The noises had been muffled as Xolarin’s mind came to. The last thing he remembered was being on a planet: Corellia maybe, or no it was after that. But the sounds of one familiar voice and one new voice echoed in his head.

The smells were different as he breathed in the stale air where he was. Last his mind could recall he was open and free. The smog of Corellia or the open scents of forest and tundra had recently filled his nostrils and his memories.

The sights were nothing as Xolarin opened his eyes. Before now, he had been in front of some people, Laren Uscott included. But now, the blurred vision that slowly melded into clarity was showing the dank basement-like structure he was in. Sure it was durasteel, but it felt and smelled and looked like an old stone castle.

“Uhnnn,” was all he could manage as he started to lift his body up off the floor. This could not be good, especially with what he found when he searched around, coming to his knees. He had no lightsaber, no all-temperature cloak, no utility belt, and not even a vibrodagger he normally kept in his boot.

As Xolarin got up to his feet, the scene became familiar to a degree. It wasn’t an old castle but was a durasteel room. And something was indeed familiar about it, but he could not quite place it. The smells, the hum of distant engines or machinery, and the walls were something that had been in his recent past, likely before he ended up in the room.

The knight went to the door and tried it - locked. He looked at the control panel and punched in some commands - access denied. He looked around for other panels or access hatches and - nothing. He was trapped, and he had no idea who had put him here.

He tried to remember back to the day before, Corellia or perhaps somewhere else. And who had him… he had trusted Laren for quite some time, but could it have been the mercenary? Could the new friend, who was finally helping Xolarin find his father’s truths, have taken Xol capture? If so, where would he be taking him?

Xolarin sighed and pounded his hand on the wall near the door, at the same time kneeing the control panel. And suddenly with the knock of his knee the door slid open. Xolarin raised his head from where it rested on his arm, still a pounding headache, and looked out into the corridor. It smelled the same as his room, everything sounded the same, and it was still not quite but slightly familiar.

The man crept out of the room and looked around. No security cameras were mounted in sight and yet there was nothing for him to grab as a weapon - not even a blunt object. Nonetheless, Xolarin went down the hall and tried to use his affinity with the Force to sense what was going on and who might be near. It hurt with his headache, but there was someone up and around the corner.

Xolarin slowly and as silently as he could approached the room and tried to listen. There was some rustling coming from the room, someone definitely active. But the door was open and he poked his head around the corner. Sure enough, Laren was there, sitting in a cockpit, fiddling with something in his hand.

“I KNEW I couldn’t trust you,” Xolarin said as he rounded the corner, facing his captor and grimacing at the merc.

Laren shuddered in surprise and turned to face Xolarin. “Man, you scared the crap outta me.”

“What have you done? What am I doing here?” Xolarin was angry, an emotion with which he battled recently, and yet had used successfully to help his cause.

Laren furled his brow as his head shot back. “Seriously? You don’t remember?”

Xolarin shook his head. “No… not a thing. Why was I locked in there, and where are my belongings?”

Laren chuckled and then sighed. “Wow.” The man stood and went to Xolarin and they were standing face to face. Laren matched Xolarin’s gaze and even grimaced back at him. And then he put his hand on Xolarin’s shoulder and patted him. “You drank so much Gamorean Moonshine that I had to carry you back.”

Xolarin’s internal guard and adrenaline went down a notch. “What? Back where?” He looked around the ship.

“Your ship. You managed a new boat recently.” Laren shook his head and went over to one of the seats in the cockpit. He grabbed a bundle and handed it to Xolarin. “It’s dank and old, but it will work. I’d say it was a good deal.”

Xolarin accepted the bundle - his robes, lightsaber, and other gear. “Um, I bought a ship?”

Laren then walked past Xolarin, chuckling again. “Yeah… and a couple jugs of Gamorean Moonshine which have apparently disappeared. Mystery solved on where those went.” The man continued out into the corridor and began down the way. “Get some coffee,” he harkened back. “We probably need to leave soon.”

Xolarin’s grimaced look was now that of shock, as he stood there holding his clothes and weapon… and evidently more hungover than most men could possibly be. Suddenly he felt nauseous. This would not be a fun day.