Mama Rael and Vreem pulled up to her ship just as Maro Rael, her husband, also known as Papa Rael, jumped down the ramp, a blaster in hand. Papa was a rough looking man with an artificial left arm. On his head he wore a bandanna. Peeking from underneath it, Vreem caught a glimpse of metal. "This the kid?" He asked his wife as she switched off her Rayzer. "Yes. Meet Vreem Zarell. Vreem? Meet my husband Maro Rael." Then she glanced overhead. "And meet the Scandalous Wench." "She might not look like much." Maro said when he saw Vreem staring at the ship. "But once we get that 444 in her, she'll be one of the fastest freighters of her size. She's already got a class 1.0 hyperdrive, and we're hoping to take it to 0.9." "Sounds like she's going to get you in and out in a hurry." "What do you mean by that?" Maro asked, instantly wary. "Your wife was coming out of a warehouse owned by the Dessillijic clan when I saved her. I heard the Vernou mention the name Zakaria Cronda. My master and I got a tip from him last year, just before the war started, about a small Mind Blow operation on Tenato's third moon. It's not hard to figure out what you do for a living." "You sound like it doesn't bother you." Mama cut in. "That's rather odd for a Jedi. Usually you guys are down on those of us who live on the fringes of society." "The way I look at it is, if you don't transport stuff like Mind Blow, or slaves, I don't have a problem with you." "And of course, if you're familiar with Resha Torvul, you know she refuses to deal with such things." "Yes." "Okay then." The man said. "Let's get those swoops on board, and get moving." "Oh!" Mama stopped Vreem with a hand on his shoulder. "Two bits of advice. One: be careful around our pilot. She's a bit screwy. She dresses like a cheap Coruscanti prostitute. Yet she gets all worked up when men hit on her." "That's not true!" A woman's voice said over Papa'a comlink. "I don't mind if I get compliments. I just don't like being groped. And I dress like a cheap Dorouban prostitute!" With a laugh, she switched off. "And the other word of advice is don't touch our daughter." The redhead finished. "That is if you want to reach Corellia in one piece. She's only sixteen." "Understood." The boy said. "Besides." He said as he pushed his swoop onto the lift that had just dropped. "She's too old for me. I'm only fourteen." The couple glanced at one another quickly. "Are you serious?" Maro asked. "Yes. I was abandoned at a hospital in Corell by my father fourteen years ago. He had the hospital do a test for midichlorians. When I tested high, he had them call the jedi." "What do you know about your father?" Lizbeth asked Vreem. "Just his name. I was able to find it out last year." "What is it?" Maro asked. "If you don't mind my asking, that is." With a shrug, the boy told them. "Are you kidding?" The pair said in unison, now staring at the boy who stared back. "No. Do you know him?" "Mk3 was the best damned smuggler pilot ever." Maro said excitedly. "He knew no fear. He still holds the record for the Kessel Run. Vanished about fifteen years ago." "Why do you call him Mk3?" Vreem asked Maro. "Because he hated his real name. Insisted everyone call him Mk3, due to the fact that he was the third person to hold that name." Sorry for being late. My sister is in the hospital (nothing serious) and guess who got stuck with the job of taking care of her bratty boy?