Rhea quickly stores her new acquisitions in the galley (We'll need to examine the particulars on that eventually, perhaps; or we may just do a significant reboot once we finish adding in the new blood. We'll see.) while Vadi and Kreshell continue to fill their time . . . somehow. Zev and his lady friend emerge from the 'fresher after an . . . extended stay, and soon the young Mandalorian is perusing the mechanic's many projects in her workbay.
As the expected time draws near, Stevral emerges from his office and approaches the boarding ramp of Spice Rush, calling out that Taell and the others will be arriving soon. The bureaucrat departs quickly and quietly, feeling that he has satisfied his obligations as a helpful host.
And within a few short minutes, a cascade of comm alerts rings through Spice Rush's corridors, comlinks chirruping incessantly. The "why" becomes clear in short order -- MedStar's main docking bay is under attack. As the remainder of the crew moves to assist Le, Hayden, and ThetaZero, Kresh is forced to call out to Zev as they rush across the landing pad. Interestingly, the pilot's "girlfriend" is just as swift in joining the group headed for the turbolift, a double-holster belt appearing in her hand as though from thin air.
The main lift doors open on a scene of rampant chaos. Collapsed figures in MedStar uniforms dot the blue-white expanse, and far fewer non-uniformed beings lay prone. Damaged lighting flickers irregularly, and two areas of the dock are only dimly lit by the faint sunlight glinting off the waters beyond the port gate. From within those darker zones, repeated, intense bursts of stun bolts careen into the scant cover upon which Hayden, Le, Taell, and a few other MedStar staff have seized. The inert form of ThetaZero rests behind the clustered defenders, the decking scarred from where his "feet" skidded as he was drug to relative safety; the droid's photoreceptors are dark, and his master somewhat clumsily wields the rifle he carried. Le is also loosing awkward blasts with a rifle, newly-acquired. None of the MedStar dockworkers are armed.
The arrival of the Spice Rush crew is welcomed gladly, as Zev makes terrific use of Kreshell's blaster to enable Rhea, Vadi, and Kresh to move behind a mass of plassteel canisters not far removed from their crewmates' shelter. The young man doesn't let his burst of luck cloud his judgment, however, and quickly slides into position beside a watchful Zargro.
It takes no time at all, though, for Ossifson and the blonde mechanic to prove a significant issue for the clustered attackers. In a seamless display of "fire-and-maneuver" tactics, the pair advance on one of the darkened corners of the dock, gradually silencing some of the blaster weapons trained on them as they go. Then, from one of the perimeter freight elevators behind that knot of resistance, a stocky crimson-skinned Twi'lek in MedStar fashion sprints into the midst of the concealed attackers. In seconds, fresh supporting fire begins to beat at the other knot of marauders.
It becomes clear that Stevral and his two employees expect the ragtag band to monopolize on the suppressing fire, and with a leapfrog approach and some weaponry changing hands, soon enough the Spice Rush crew goes toe-to-toe with a cluster of Quarren and Aqualish. The shifted odds, and suddenly absent escape route, force a change in tactics, though -- the hail of fire that rises to meet the team is no longer nonlethal. Zev Ronen's luck runs out -- a bolt burns through his abdomen, and he collapses immediately. Hayden shifts his approach to draw near to the Mando youth, and quickly ensures that the wound, while severe, is not immediately fatal. With Kreshell pointing out critical opportunities, Vadi muddling thoughts and deeds, and the trio of Le, Hayden, and Rhea inundating the remaining foe in a flurry of staff strikes and unarmed blows, the docking bay soon falls silent.
In the midst of it all, the sub laden with high-grade kolto bobs untouched -- not even a blaster burn to mar its unremarkable hull.
As the cleanup effort begins, a squad of Selkath peace officers hustles onto the scene, detaining the thugs and taking statements from the groggy MedStar employees. The law enforcement team examines the security holofeed and confirms no wrongdoing on the part of any company staff nor the visiting merchants, and after taking readings on the personal weapons of the Spice Rush six, they depart to their headquarters with fully 20 amphibious sentients in custody.
Zev is quickly immersed in kolto in the company medbay, his injury grievous enough that moving him back aboard the ship is out of the question -- Spice Rush simply does not support the treatment regimen he needs for a full, speedy recovery. His new paramour offers to help pay for his care until he is able to operate on his own, and even her ulterior motives don't diminish the good of the deed. (She likes 'em young, Stevral quips. The younger, the better.)
With the use of a repulsorsled, ThetaZero's recumbent form is loaded onto the ship, and then the efforts turn toward transferring the kolto shipment to the freighter. Even with the scheduling hiccup posed by pitched battle at a jobsite, Le calculates that the team has only lost two hours' time off of his projections -- if all goes smoothly at the Kothlis rendezvous, timing will be of no concern at all . . . . Finalizing the deal on Nar Shaddaa, however, may not prove so simple . . . .
After filling a loaned footlocker with the belongings in Zev's cabin (and thoroughly cleansing the bed linens and other features), Rhea entrusts the young man's effects to his steely-eyed pistol-slinging mechanic friend, and then settles into the pilot's chair for what may prove to be a career-defining first time.
Repulsors fire, and the ion engines engage, and Spice Rush once more burns through atmosphere toward the unclear future.
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Okay. We're going to have a brief pause here just so our regulars can have a bit of in-character reflection and speculation. Next story advancement should come within 36 hours.
As he makes his way back toward his cabin, Zev replies. Yeah, she's good to go. Uh . . . the ship, I mean. A hiss-thunk sounds as the door closes once more, and shortly Kreshell hears the padded scamper of bare feet rushing back toward one of the 'fresher units aft.
Reluctantly, Le, Hayden, and ThetaZero board the now heavily-laden sub, and Taell steers them out of the depot, making sure to seal the bay behind them. Back in his own element once more, the submariner issues another torrent of language, mostly pertaining to those few moments of the attack. How his fear got the better of him, how smooth his new friends were in the fight, how little the hazard pay compensates for mortal danger.
Little do they know . . . .
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Kreshell is still on the bridge checking Le's pre-plotted hyperspace jumps when Rhea's comm ping comes through. The discussion is brief: everything seems to be in order, the retrieval is still ongoing, and it appears that Zev has made a new "friend". Rhea quickly signs off after indicating that she is heading back to Spice Rush.
The Devaronian goes back to double-checking jump calculations and gives a sudden start when Zev's cabin suddenly opens. The young pilot emerges, wearing a pillowcase to preserve a minimum of modesty, and begins to gather up the discarded clothing. Behind him, the mechanic lounges against the hatchway, draped in the drab olive sheet that matches Zev's "informalwear". Both faces are plastered with satisfied, feces-feeding grins.
As the murky waters lap at the dock quietly, Le and Hayden exchange a skeptical look: That was too easy. But, for several minutes, nothing at all happens. There is a brief disturbance as ThetaZero rolls the dead Quarren into the ocean after depriving the corpse of its rifle and vibroblade, and still more minutes tick by.
Taell finally gathers the nerve to end his cowering, and his customary logorrhea resumes. When none of his companions move from keeping a watch on the dockside, he quiets, and meekly resumes moving the tanks of kolto.
Before long, the subdued pilot interjects: Ummm . . . fellas? That was the last one. Are we ready to get moving? Putting word into action, he eases into the ship and closes the bay doors, beginning the startup sequence.
Twenty-fours hours before I push this again so we can reweave the narrative threads. *drums fingers* *crickets*
Vadi shakes the proverbial cobwebs loose and reapproaches Zev's cabin door. As she presses her ear to the cool metal, the muffled reverberations of continued delighted laughter counterpointed by vigorous motion can be heard. Vadi recognizes one of the voices as distinctly Zev's; the other is a smoky female contralto, calling out encouragement of a most intimate sort.
Head still cocked toward the hatch, the Twi'lek's eyes scan the smorgasbord of castoff clothing on the bridge decking. There's little doubt in her mind that Zev has hit it off with the resident mechanic -- little rest, but quite a bit of recreation.
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Where you at, Saashaa??
Rednal: due to timing constraints, we'll need to finish the hanky-panky interlude before Rhea's comm ping is received. To fit it into the overall timeline, Zev's getting jiggy just as Rhea is reaching the halfway point of her trip to Lady Valmay's bordello. And this means that the battle in the storage depot hasn't even started yet . . . .
As Vadi leans close to Le's bunk's door, she hears no sound at all from within. It seems odd for only a moment, however -- she suddenly remembers that the Zabrak went on the sub ride with Hayden and ThetaZero!!
An epiphany grips the entire mass of Quarren, all at once: discretion is the better part of valor. The pair before ThetaZero unceremoniously roll straightway back into the benthic haven, rather than face more laser blasts.
Of the two still emerging from the water near Hayden and Le, one disappears with nary a ripple nor splash. His compatriot reaches out to grasp at the rifleman's ankle and haul him back into the safety of open water.
Unable to find purchase on his trousers, the Quarren looses a burst of Huttese at the still-standing maniac, who suddenly topples backward and falls into the waiting water.
With no hesitation, ThetaZero shifts his aim to the next Quarren still clambering onto the dockside. His head tilts strangely for a brief instant, and he fires away.
At Taell's outcry, ThetaZero pivots his photoreceptors back toward the starboard sub doors and immediately unlimbers his blaster rifle. Before his targeting protocols can fully engage, he looses a blast at the Quarren.
Pleased Observation: We are finally in the right location, it seems, Master Hayden!
As Le and ThetaZero begin their labor of love, they notice that still more creatures are rising from the deeps behind their respective targets. Both to port and starboard, two more Quarren are pulling themselves out of the murky water, peering about the bay.
Tech Team Perception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
The Quarren now bracing Le across a few mere paces' distance draws his own rifle to cover his allies, and the discharge of ThetaZero's rifle brings him clarity -- he's got a target! He aims for Za-Deen's center mass, seeking to put down any resistance as quickly as possible.
ThetaZero's blaster bolt chews straight through a squid-faced skull, and his target topples to the deck near one of the raider technicians, a scorched and smoking ruin.
Though Le Za-Deen was prepared for his opponent, the Zabrak's attempt to deflect blaster fire was unsuccessful; fortunately for him, his enemy's aim is poor. . . . . For the moment.
Okay, Jedi Hayden -- I know you're out there! You're up!
Tactical Description: the floor layout is essentially a large "U", dominated by the mass of the freight sub, which breaks line of sight and line of effect from either side (unless one likes to climb things). Le is on the portside, ThetaZero to starboard; Taell has taken to cowering behind the repulsorsled.
We're about to set a trend, people, if it isn't one already. Readying a weapon can be performed as part of a move action if you have a +1 BAB or better, rules as written; I am going to expand that to include, at least, using a move action to make a Perception check (given the same +1 BAB requisite). If you have any remarks or objections, post 'em in Discussion; I don't think this breaks action economy or plausibility, but this will stand for at least this first encounter.
The work at the deep storage depot is proceeding well, and just as Le Za-Deen is emerging from the sub's port hold, an irregularity in the noise of the water lapping at the dock draws his attention -- a figure is emerging from the depths, just twenty feet away!
The creature has a complexion that reminds the Zabrak of the wind-gouged rocks of his home -- a ruddy brown color that is completely uniform. A dome-shaped head with deep-set, beady eyes is set above mouthparts that resemble the tentacles of some of the sea creatures passed on the trip. The being's hands have several individual digits that more resemble articulated flippers than Le's own humanoid hands. No matter the physiology, though -- the armor and blaster rifle the strange sentient carries hold all the meaning the Zabrak exile needs: an attack!
Quarren Thug 1 Perception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Action to you, Avacynrestored -- you get a free action and/or a standard action during this surprise round.
Not long after Rhea departs on her errand, Kreshell and Vadi hear the thunder of clattering boots and gales of laughter reverberate through the ship. Upon sharing a confused look, the two glance down the passenger hallway toward the boarding ramp. A conspicuous scattering of clothing contrasts with the deck plating -- a grimy mechanic's jumpsuit, a pair of shirts, and some undergarments. A few dull thuds echo out from the starboard side of the bridge, and the doors to Zev's cabin engage their locks.
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As Rhea steadily makes her way toward the rendezvous, she notices the transition from industrial zone to 'tourist trap' taking hold in the surroundings. A bevy of various races is represented here in the resort district -- even some species Rhea has never seen before, firsthand. Unlike other similar enterprises, this part of the city does not appear to be driven by a 'rush for more'; on the contrary, there is a great sense of cultivated comfort -- the casino masters want their patrons to savor the transition of fortunes.
As she strolls past the bright lights and vivid displays, she notes that her destination lies beyond the mainstream portions of the entertainment district. There is a subtle change in the pulse of the city . . . the lights are more dim, and farther apart; fewer purveyors solicit with eye contact and bright smiles; persons moving to and fro keep their heads down, and offer no token gestures.
Eventually, Rhea's comlink pings her arrival at the destination point, and the operative makes an incredulous double-check of the data. Even so, she finds that everything checks out -- even a bordello can serve as a good cover for an intelligence station.
Suppressing a grimace, Rhea steps up to one of the doormen and issues her codephrase: Please inform the lady of the house that her cousin has arrived. He makes no direct reply, but enters a few commands on an integrated datacom on his left bracer. Within moments, he opens the doorway to Lady Valmay's Delights and instructs Rhea to enter the second door on the left of the lengthy hallway before her.
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The sub trip to the deep storage depot turns out to be even less eventful than expected -- no firaxan sharks, no contrary currents, no other vehicles or sentients in sight. Nevertheless, their pilot takes on the role of tour guide almost reflexively -- an unceasing cascade of useless trivia, dreamy speculations, and gripes about long duty posts streams from Taell's mouth as the sub travels through Manaan's great sea. ThetaZero eventually leans toward Hayden in the adjacent seat, clearly ready to ask for permission to gag, or otherwise silence, the man, but the young Jedi forestalls him with a silent, imperious imposition of his hand before the droid's yellow-orange photoreceptors. BeShawn merely shakes his head in the negative, resigned to enduring the torrent in bemused longsuffering.
Just as Taell begins to regale his captive audience with an anecdote from his time as a short-order cook in a dive on Abregado-rae, he blurts: Oh! Here we are!! . . . . I am so glad you guys came along -- the trip just flew right by! He is all smiles as he depresses a button on his console, and then turns the submarine upward into a stately ascent.
The twilight purple of the water swirling about the ship is suddenly brightened by a bank of floodlights on the vessel's bow, and looming out of the gloom are a pair of massive chains stretched vertically from below to some point above. Taell guides the craft between the two towers of metal and decelerates to a near-stop. As the hull around them pops lightly as pressure decreases, a new source of light becomes visible directly overhead. Blue-white artificial light beckons them to rise into the bay of a superfreighter-sized orb of indeterminate composition, so covered over with barnacles, coral, and mollusks that its shape is suggested rather than observed.
They emerge into a spacious loading bay, and their driver quickly shuts down the vessel and makes ready to open the hatch. Well, let's get this done, shall we? . . . . Uh . . . do any of you know how to use a heavy repulsorjack? 'Cause I figured you'd be helping, and not just watching . . . . Save even more time, and all. Before anyone can respond, he hits another switch at the doorway, and the whole vessel shudders as its bat-wing hull hatches begin to swing open.
Taell clambers out with the others in tow, and he explains why their shipment had to be relocated. Their lot is not standard export-quality kolto -- rather, it is a rarer type of kolto that is harvested from the ocean in much smaller quantities. It must be kept at cooler temperatures during shipment, and rather than expend the batteries on the storage tanks, Ossifson chose to move them here until they were to be retrieved. Indeed, the chamber is much cooler than the surface air, almost to the point of causing discomfort. Their pilot waves a hand toward one wall, and Hayden and Za-Deen are briefly agog -- one hundred 1000-liter tanks of purple-tinged blue kolto are amassed before them, covered with light condensation.
A hundred thousand liters of kolto. 100,000!!!
Taell sets to work, showing his charges how to move the tanks properly and secure them in the freight sub's hold. The work is steady but slow, even with the additional hands.
So, the word is that I'll be botting Hayden for the foreseeable future. Hopefully his tech issues meet a speedy resolution and he can rejoin us. In any event, I have a few things upon which to elaborate.
The trio of Zabrak, Corellian, and droid are waved into Stevral's office by the receptionist. The lanky sub pilot is sprawled across a comfortable-looking nerf-hide chair, his elbows and legs prominently overhanging its mass. The CEO glances up and acknowledges his guests, a faint smile on his face.
Looking back to the surly submariner, Stevral fairly coos, There you go, Taell. Overtime and hazard pay approved for this run. Ossifson scans his thumbprint onto the display integrated into his desk surface, and the tall man leans over to impress his own thumbprint on the electronic document. So I take it, . . . uh, . . . gentlemen, that you three will be dispatched to assist with the retrieval? The murmurs of assent send the executive into a brief flurry of activity, and within moments Le and Hayden have official approval to travel on the company submarine. ThetaZero, acknowledging young BeShawn as his master, is permitted to attend, as well, being merely regarded as property.
Within minutes, Taell leads his charges to a row of lift doors, and calls a car. He beckons the other three aboard, and punches the button for the lowest level of the complex.
So! First time on Manaan, fellas? Good, good. At least you'll get some sightseeing done -- maybe even get to see a firaxan shark on the way! And free of charge, no less! I'll be glad of the company, for sure. The boat computer isn't much for talking, I'm afraid.
The lift doors open onto a cavernous chamber, and the faint tang of salt in the air mingles with that of seaweed and fish. The dock is occupied by six watercraft -- four of them thrice the size of Spice Rush. The other two are much smaller, but could challenge the freighter in terms of mass and volume. Several crewfolk mill about the area, some maneuvering refueling lines, others inspecting vessel hulls, but the majority laboring with heavy loadlifters, ferrying large tanks filled with translucent blue kolto to various freight elevators. Taell's extra hands garner some double-takes, but none of the workers breaks his or her rhythm. The rail-thin pilot leads Za-Deen, BeShawn, and ThetaZero to one of the smaller subs, leading the way up a ladder to an access hatch.
The bobbing motion of the craft at its mooring proves somewhat unsettling for Le Za-Deen -- travel upon a body of water, or beneath it, was a thing unknown on his home planet. The lakes and streams that were scattered about its rocky surface were typically small enough, or shallow enough, to be either circumnavigated or forded on foot. The newness of this experience was met with a quiet eagerness, the Zabrak looking forward to something fresh, and different.
Hayden settles into the water-buoyed craft with ease, memories of trips on pleasurecraft back on Corellia gliding through his mind. It had been some years since he was last on a sub, and his interest was mildly piqued, but he was pleased to be away from the freighter for a time.
ThetaZero secures the hatch with silent efficiency as Taell fires up the engines and thrusters while simultaneously going through his pre-dive checks. Okay, guys. Gonna be near to three hours to get to deep storage, and maybe . . . thirty minutes' work to load up the goods. Then, three hours back, and we'll have you on your way! Once all the diagnostics read in the green, Taell eases the craft farther into the water, and then begins the long dive to their goal.
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If any of you have anything to add, whether questions, interactions, or what-have-you, seize the opportunity! I'm especially interested in Rhea's reaction to the communique; regardless, we're about to set a few series of things in motion. Read y'all soon!
For but a moment, Hayden BeShawn's demeanor falters, and then resumes its general calm. He turns back into the ship and shortly reemerges with ThetaZero close behind. Together, they follow after Le Za-Deen, also intent upon escorting the goods back to Spice Rush.
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Zev eventually emerges from the boarding ramp, laden with kits and hardware. He clambers atop the vessel and begins effecting the minor repairs necessary. It isn't long after that he is approached by the blonde mechanic, and soon the two are engaged in animated conversation while the Mandalorian orphan does his work.
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Rhea's comm ping goes unanswered for nearly an hour, but when the response does arrive, it is emphatic. She is provided an address and a time, and instructed to arrive alone. The command code attached at the terminus of the message is of high enough priority that the Hapan knows she must go. And, in all likelihood, she will be going to receive a bit of a dressing-down from the planet section chief.
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Kresh and Vadi settle in for their wait aboard Spice Rush, little but pazaak and the ship's galley to serve the passage of time.
Yes, these events are scattered across our timeline, and more fleshing-out is needed. I will be posting again soon to fill in the blanks.
Stevral takes Kreshell's outburst in stride, and seems mollified by Rhea's calmer reaction. He straightens a bit -- difficult, considering his already rigorous presentation --, and then hands the group a decision point.
So, since it appears you have a rather longer wait ahead of you than anticipated, I'd like to make a few suggestions for your activities over the next several hours. First, and most obvious, you could seek entertainment in one of the resorts nearby -- we'll assign a driver with a passenger speeder to you, free of charge. Second, if you'd rather not see the sights, we have a staff lounge in the main building on the second floor -- you're free to make use of its dining and gaming options, but the rest of the facility is off-limits. Third, and last -- there is room enough on the freight sub for four of you to go along on the retrieval; I can easily handle all the necessary documentation while approving his overtime and such. At this, he finally notices the dented and scored hull plating on the ship before him. Or, you could stay here and see to your vessel. . . . . An interesting color scheme you have, there. A grin sweeps over his face as he reckons the reasons for the camouflage paint job, but it passes as swiftly as it appears.
I will leave you to the choice then, gentlebeings. Do know, though, that if you elect to go on the sub ride, that you have only . . . , he check his chrono, eleven minutes to confirm that. Afterward, he'll already be on his way. The receptionist's desk can be clearly seen from the end of the hallway. She can direct you to my office should you need to see me. Stevral dips his head and turns on his heel, quickly going back the way he came.
Ossifson chuckles a bit at Vadi's display, but then sobers swiftly. He was complaining about having to go on another run in the freight sub -- the "brick with propellers". Because I do have some slightly unfortunate news: the shipment you're scheduled to retrieve has been rotated back to storage, off-site. Another shipment was bumped to an earlier pickup, necessitating the cargo shift. And due to the nature of your intended cargo, we had to move it to one of our deeper storage sites. And that's where the sub figures in -- it's about a six-hour run to retrieve, load, and ferry back here to the loading zone. Stevral pauses here, and takes a steeling breath before continuing. Honestly, after we received the communique from Nar Shaddaa, I expected to not see that specific shipment code come across my screen . . . . It sounded as though there might have been some . . . intense conflict surrounding the beginning of your journey. In the past, similar events have resulted in lost shipments -- hurt feelings do so interfere with business operations, do they not?
Stevral's smile becomes a bit rigid and nervous. He's obviously awaiting a reaction from the people gathered before him.
As the ship sweeps in over Ahto City, the crew crane their necks to take in the view of the pearly-white city. An ocean liner is pulling away from the dockside of the northern tourism district, its sister ships still taking on passengers. Even in the midday glare, the bright lights of the resorts and casinos are clearly visible. For Vadi, especially, all the sentients roaming the walkways and plazas strike her as very well-dressed. Spice Rush begins passing over the more industrial portions of the city, and the decrease in activity is noticeable. Yet, there is a constant flow of waterborne vessels going to and fro on and beneath the surface, and freighters are steadily arriving and departing from the landing pads throughout the area.
Ahead, a red beacon strobes in synch with the pulses of the guidance system, and Zev engages the landing cycle. The ship eases into a high-walled ring-shaped landing bay which could easily accommodate a vessel twice the size of Spice Rush. It is one of five such docks spread in a ring around a central structure emblazoned with the MedStar Distributors logo on its roof. A cluster of plastiform crates is nestled against the curve of the wall, a heavy-duty repulsorsled perched adjacent. To the left of the descending ship, a broad hatch is open, leading into what is obviously a mechanics bay. A hallway that bends in toward the main building opens onto the pad to the right of the pile of crates. The remainder of the dock wall is bare, apart from a single freight hatch, aft of the ship.
With a slight jounce of the landing struts, Spice Rush comes to rest. Zev puts the engines into standby mode, drops the ramp, and then heads straightaway to the "garage" to prepare his repair work. With a still-distracted air about him, Hayden peers down the ramp from the hallway, telling ThetaZero to assist Zev with the hull plates when he begins the task. Le, still grumbling about his "stolen" rock leeches, hefts his rucksack and prepares to debark.
As the five crewers descend to the duracrete pad, a blonde-haired woman emerges from the mechanical bay. Despite the grit and grime on her jumpsuit, it is no trouble at all to see that she is . . . statuesque. She casts an appraising gaze over the Spice Rush team, and then turns back to a nearby computer terminal and activates its comm function. They're here, Stevral. What's taking you so long?! Then she looks back to the gathered visitors and offers a conciliatory nod before returning to her work.
Shortly, the echo of voices comes ringing out of the hallway opposite the mechbay. . . . and I know you're supposed to be off-duty, but Akkar isn't going to be back for two days! So get your posterior below and prep the sub for the run! Now!! The answering voice is a high tenor, strained with frustration, as opposed to the cultured baritone issuing orders. This'll be an eighteen-hour shift, Stevral. You gotta confirm the overtime and the hazard pay for this before I even look at that brick with propellers. Two more humans sweep into view, one trailing the other. The leader is done up in a grey uniform that evokes comparisons to military garb, the MedStar logo embroidered over a name -- Stevral. Behind him, a lanky middle-aged man with more gray than brown in his hair (and nearly as tall as Jebber) is clothed in a jumpsuit that matches the mechanic's, just free of the stains that denote her dirtier work. With a dismissive, backhanded gesture, Stevral reassures his sub pilot: Yes, yes -- I'll process the docs with you in a minute then, Brictan. Let me at least greet our guests, first!
Stevral strides up to the clustered travelers confidently, and offers a swift, polite bow. Welcome to Manaan, sentients! My name is Stevral Ossifson, CEO of MedStar Distributors. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?
Spice Rush makes its languorous way through the swirl of traffic in Manaan's orbit and soon enters hailing range of Ahto City. Kreshell provides the comm frequency to Vadi, who quickly opens a channel and broadcasts a greeting. At first, no reply is made, but after a few minutes of slight unease, the comm crackles to life.
Ummmm . . . . Roger that, Spice Rush. We've got you on our scope now. Confirm that Dock Five is clear for landing. Uhhhh . . . , please retransmit that access code, though -- our system's acting a little wonky, and I want to make sure we've got the correct lot queued up for you.
Vadi glances over to Kresh, who bustles over with his datapad aglow, Lofkte's provided information prominently displayed. The Devaronian hovers just a bit as their freshly-appointed comms officer rekeys the code. That's exactly what I sent them the first time, the Twi'lek breathes. For a brief moment, Zargro's perpetual grin fades as he wonders whether this is the first sign of his worst suspicions being realized. Have some of Fliina's allies beaten them to the pickup with violence on their schedule? Or was the whole job nixed completely? As the ship continues its descent into atmosphere, the still-untested captain is somewhat preoccupied with such questions.
A burst of static: Okay, Spice Rush. Everything checks out. Stay on your approach vector, and we'll see you in about fifteen minutes. MedStar, out. The channel closes abruptly, and though the tension is somewhat abated, the crew is still anxious. It seems the job is still on, for now.
Zev releases the controls, letting Rhea take over, and he spins his seat to face Kreshell. Once we land, I'll start getting set to repair that bit of hull damage we got from that airspeeder collision. I'll wait till you check in and give the go-ahead, 'cause we don't want to be in the middle of that if we need to fly out fast. . . . . I'm hoping it's all still good to go -- I really wanna get paid for all this!
Alrighty, folks! Make any preparations you think prudent! Or just plain fun, for that matter! :D
Ecksol's poorly-veiled bluff is read clearly by a few of the Spice Rush crew, but they cannot seem to find the right bit of leverage to advance it more quickly. Rhea is especially disconcerted, as she knows full well that it was part of her briefing regimen on Republic procedure, but the point eludes her. Nonetheless, it makes itself clear, in time.
The lieutenant disdains to spar any further with Zargro, and contents himself with meandering through the ship independently of the scanning team. The tightly-packed garage is of particular interest to him, as he reveals a passion for speeder bikes. He proceeds to regale his attendant marine with a bevy of trivia concerning how one could turn that particular model into a genuine racing machine, rather than just a utility vehicle. After a time, Ecksol makes his way through the passenger cabins, and finds the empty "brig" of particular note. He diverts the scansled to the room, much to their discomfiture, and learns that its most recent occupant was a Wookiee. He presses Zev for more information, and the pilot grates out the story of transporting a grief-stricken Wookiee back to Kashyyyk at his family's behest -- something about a mistaken case of failing to honor a life debt, and the ensuing frenzy causing a great deal of property damage. Since there is no evidence of foul play, and the nav log supports Zev's assertions of the timetable and its ultimate outcome, Ecksol lets the matter drop.
However, in the fifth hour of the inspection, a "hiccup" emerges. Whilst scanning Le Za-Deen's personal effects, a biological signature is registered -- one not found in their database. Forced to empty his kit onto the floors and shelves of his bunk, the Zabrak explains that he has a few "rock leeches" in his survival gear -- their secretions are surprisingly effective at ridding most organic beings of any toxins. Le protests vehemently at their seizure, but is assured that he will be able to reclaim them from Austerity's secure holding upon departing Manaan. The explanation he is provided concerns the introduction of foreign, potentially invasive species to Manaan's ecosystem. When questioned as to their planet of origin, all he is willing to divulge is that his homeworld is far to the galactic south of Ryloth. That revelation evokes several shocked reactions, as there is little beyond Ryloth apart from the galactic rim. Their Zabrak is obviously not Iridonian, after all -- if he is telling the truth.
Somewhat huffily, Ecksol finally checks his chrono and tells his team to board the shuttle. Rhea finally recalls that Republic regs specify that no customs inspection is to take more than six standard hours -- and Ecksol has observed that protocol with exacting specificity. The lieutenant makes a few backhanded insults in Kreshell's direction, noting the surprising lack of concealed compartments or the presence of contraband materials. He supplies Za-Deen with a claims chit for his "rock leeches" and then follows his crew into the shuttle.
Austerity relays comms to Manaan ATC, and the crew is provided an authorized flight path to their destination. With a trace of sarcasm, Zev remarks that it matches their own pre-plotted pattern in its totality.
Rhea, give me a Profession (Hapan Intelligence) check on that question! :)
Ecksol looks even more miffed than before, and double-quips: Been nearly ten standard years since we saw each other, and you still won't say my name right . . . . Some things never change. . . . . And somebody made you captain of this boat, Zargro?! Hmph. He stalks past Kreshell into the galley, giving ThetaZero an odd double-take as the droid stares back at him (almost placidly, if a droid could do so . . . .). With a satisfied, self-important inhale, the lieutenant finally responds to Rhea's question: Our protocols here on the Manaan border are a bit more exacting than they would be entering . . . "standard" Republic territory. Since the Selkath demand their neutrality, but don't exactly have a space fleet of their own, one of the terms of the economic agreement we have with them is to add an additional layer of security -- we inspect ships according to Republic law and Selkath law, too. It's tough to say exactly how long it'll take. Ecksol looks back to Kreshell, remarking: I don't think I'll take you up on that offer of a meal, cadet. You'd probably lace it with laxative. Again. . . . . Besides -- we're on duty: not gonna happen.
I know exactly how long I can detain you. (Bluff):1d20 + 0 ⇒ (4) + 0 = 4
----------
As Vadi follows along in the scanning crew's wake, everything seems to be going much slower than instinct tells her it should. Even so, the marine accompanying them makes no secret at all that he's enjoying having to keep an eye, or both, or more if he had them, on the comely Twi'lek. The entourage makes its way to the bridge and begins its operation, and Zev grudgingly opens his cabin for them to proceed. The going is slow.
----------
Za-Deen ducks his head into the galley and scans for Kreshell. That nav update -- now, or later?? The Zabrak offers Ecksol a guarded look, as though sizing up a potential threat, while he waits for Zargro to make a decision.
Kreshell pivots back toward the access ladder, and history (ancient, at that) meets his gaze. It takes the space of a few breaths for him to remember the human before him, but it comes back in a tumble of images. He never had the guts to sit at the table and hazard his credits, but Ecksol was a steadfast hanger-on to one of the commandant's star pupils on Carida. Lickspittle gopher is a phrase that springs to mind. He was at the game the night Kresh cleaned house -- the game that was so good it effectively ran the Devaronian out of the Academy. And just from the tone of Ecksol's greeting, Zargro was certain the lieutenant nursed a vicarious grudge for his old buddies.
After Ecksol notices that Kreshell finally recognizes him, he turns his head toward the scanning crew without breaking eye contact. Ensign, make sure you do a thorough job on this one. Check it twice, if you must -- our cadet here has a history of . . . disciplinary issues. The technician salutes smartly and moves the scansled onto the promenade, headed forward and glad, it seems, to be getting away from the Republic officer.
So, who's the captain of this boat? And how much contraband are you carrying? I bet this crate is riddled with those troublesome nooks . . . . We might even find some the crew doesn't yet know about! What do you think, Zargro? Gonna be a good day for search and seizure?
The other tech and one of the marines follow the scansled out of the engine room, leaving Vadi/Meda, Kreshell, a not-so-bored marine, and Lieutenant Ecksol behind.
Ecksol is a strangely-built individual: a too-large squarish head with an almost skeletal mien (deep-set cloudy blue eyes over broad cheekbones and a narrow jaw) mounted atop a short frame that is all bony shoulders and rail-thin limbs. He seems quite at ease, though, except for the unwavering grip on his holstered blaster. He flicks his eyes at Vadi just long enough to categorize her as another ruffian, and then resumes his staredown with Kreshell.
The freight access hatch hisses open as ThetaZero manipulates the controls from a nearby panel. Kresh and "Meda" look up into the docking collar to see a pair of Republic marines, weapons close to hand, leading a cluster of beings onto Spice Rush. Behind the troopers, a pair of technicians haul the bulk of a scansled between them. A uniformed figure behind them has a lieutenant's bars on his chest.
A ladder descends to the engine room's deck plates, and one marine warily climbs down as the other keeps an eye open from his perch in the docking collar. The two techs begin their own transition, but the leader bungles a step and slides to the floor, the scansled teetering precariously for a moment. Those on the engine deck shie away hurriedly, bolting toward the compartment bulkheads. The strained whine of the sled's repulsors asserts itself amid quiet outbursts of surprise, and the unwieldy bulk falls to the horizontal with nary a collision. Close! calls out the technician, Sorry about that. . . . . We're clear! His partner eases himself to the deck with a concerned expression, but offers only silence.
ThetaZero turns away from the burgeoning cluster of personnel and strides into the galley. Turning to look after the droid quizzically, Kreshell hears the lieutenant clamber downward behind him. Choosing not to press the droid for its erratic behavior, the Devaronian recomposes his satin grin and spins back to greet his final guest.
A voice full of loathing beats him to the opening pleasantries.
Taking Hayden's silence as another eruption of his Jedi training, ThetaZero strides back to the engine compartment with no further comment. The rest of the bridge crew trade surprised expressions at his silence, but continue their preparations for the arrival of the scanning team.
Soon enough, the Republic shuttle takes position above Spice Rush and extends its docking collar. Once the connection is established and air pressures stabilized, three loud bangs resonate off the access hatch.
EDIT: 'Cause I dunno if anyone does want to prepare something . . . .
Rhea's murmured words are all but swallowed up in the resonant whine of the hyperdrive disengaging. The ship shudders as it emerges into realspace, and the view ahead is filled with a panorama of stars. Brightest among them is the massive yellow-white sun of the Manaan system. The easy part is finished.
Za-Deen's trajectory was artfully plotted -- even at this distance from the azure orb of the watery world, sunlight glints off the surfaces of hundreds of transports, liners, stations, and small craft flitting to and fro. The reflected light seems to redouble the star-strewn view -- both natural and artificial in equal measure. The sight is beautiful in a way that the ashen image of Nar Shaddaa could never be.
Engaging the sublight drives, Zev and Rhea begin guiding their ship nearer their destination. Zargro double-checks their prearranged landing, and confirms that Dock Five of MedStar Distributors is their goal. A projected flight pattern comes up on the display for the piloting team, and the pair effortlessly move into a gentle course.
Within a few minutes, Spice Rush has drawn close enough for the passive sensors to begin identifying transponder data from nearer vessels. As the computer adjusts their flight path and Rhea moves to coordinate, the comm relay bursts into sound.
Unidentified transport, this is the cruiser Austerity of the Galactic Republic First Fleet. Please transmit your transponder tag and flight path request, and then disengage your engines for customs inspection. Respond, please.
A large orange-and-cream warship, just becoming visible several kilometers distant, begins to accelerate toward the inbound Spice Rush.
Zev (finally) engages the hyperdrive, and as though taking a breath before a dive, Spice Rush leaps forward into the blurry tunnel of hyperspace.
Over the next few days, the crew settles into a slightly disjointed routine. Zev and Rhea swap turns in the pilot's chair, having little to do, technically, except report that their course is holding. Vadi questions Hayden periodically about the Force and its movements, and Hayden coaches her on meditative techniques. Za-Deen continues to keep to himself, but is often found in the galley sampling the range of fare available. Kreshell uses his computer skills to run a diagnostic on the shield generators at Rhea's insistence, and it is confirmed that they are performing as well as can be. ThetaZero begins drawing up plans for potential modifications for the ship, and urges Hayden to begin constructing an assortment of grenades.
There is a faint tension which hums in the background, though -- everyone aboard is anticipating new complications will emerge as they draw nearer to their goal. Rhea and Zargro pore over the data available to them concerning Manaan, and eventually conclude that the likeliest point of conflict will come from the organization holding the shipment Spice Rush is to retrieve; there is no way to know what has been relayed to them by Fliina and her associates, if anything. Even so, Le plots a trio of "emergency jumps" to get them away from the watery world quickly if things do go awry; when pressed to do the same concerning the Kothlis rendezvous, the Zabrak insists upon waiting until they can renew their nav data again -- just to be on the safe side.
At this point, we have some downtime that can be filled with some assorted efforts. I'll run down a brief list of them once more: 1) reintegration of the droid brain, 2) workbench work to modify weaponry/armor, 3) medstation work for pharmaceuticals, 4) dual station work for explosives/miscellaneous, 5) refining established crew roles (possibility: let Vadi serve as comms officer -- it fits right in with her background, and also frees up Zargro to handle sensors/shields in a pinch), 6) whatever else you can think up. If we get no takers on any of these elements, I'll complete the push to Manaan tomorrow -- I just want to make sure everybody has a chance to be proactive. If you have questions, the Discussion board will serve!
Zev turns back to his console in total disgust, muttering something about not being so dense as to handing off one's only weapon and ridiculous expectations. He hollers to Za-Deen over the ongoing conversation: So, anyway! Got that next jump plotted yet? Let's get this over with!
Le, still fumbling for words at the nature of Vadi's admission, and moreso for the unexpected tenor of Hayden's contributions, snaps back to the moment with a visible shake. Yeah, almost finished, actually. He resecures his weapons and turns on his heel to go back to the navicomputer. Just as he begins to stride out, he looks back to BeShawn and gives him a nod of acknowledgement. Not at all what I expected, though. There's a chance you might be alright, Hayden. . . . . We'll see. In a matter of seconds, he calls back to Zev: Course is laid in!
The young pilot turns back to the crew. Last chance, people -- if you're not getting off here, we'll be at Manaan in a few days. Everybody ready to go?
The Mandalorian flyboy looks dumbstruck. I will?! Go space yourself, . . . captain. You don't want to fight? Fine. But maybe *you* oughta help tone this down.
----------
As Vadi prepares to defend herself, Le's face becomes somewhat a mirror of Zev's. Brow wrinkling with confusion, he looks over to Hayden. You felt that, too, right? How can she not know?! His focus snaps back to the Twi'lek. You just used the Force on me, to manipulate my thoughts. Everywhere else in the galaxy, that amounts to an attack. Warning you is the only good path I have -- I'd rather not need to fight everybody here because they felt I was "victimizing" you. So figure it out, and keep it to yourself.
----------
ThetaZero leans toward Hayden, vocabulator turned low: Irritated Request: Which one do I blast first, Master?
A clatter erupts from the navicomputer bay, followed closely by Le's furious entrance onto the bridge. His left hand is wrapped around a strange metal ring that appears to have sharpened edges, and in his right rests a small device nearly identical to the one just collapsed by Hayden. Here's your friendly warning, Blue: don't do that again. Ever. I will respond in kind, next time. Though his eyes are set on Vadi, it's clear that Le is watching everyone . . . .
Finally. That should get some more things rolling!!
Le's growly reply: Only if you aren't listening. . . . . And "getting the drop on you" in front of five witnesses would be wasted effort. Watching quietly, though -- that's never wasted, if you know how.
Poser.
We'll retcon that into the flow of dialogue before Kreshell answers Zev's question.
----------
The young pilot's eyebrows scale his forehead in an impressive display. Uhhhhh . . . yeah. You've got . . . a style. I've never seen one like it before. So there's that. Zev pauses a moment before continuing. And it seems we'll have the chance to see if we can be as profitable as you say, soon enough. 'Cause kolto's the only thing worth moving off Manaan . . . . I doubt we're gonna be hauling one their hotel/casino luxury packages. He chuckles at his own joke.
So -- two pilots, an exiled Jedi, a guard droid, an Exchange runaway, a guide, and a banker. . . . . We're an odd lot!
So, are we all in on this job? Seems a couple of us haven't said one way or the other . . . .
The Zabrak meets Hayden's gaze evenly, and an expression of distaste spreads across his face. With an affected sniff, Le remarks, Knew you were one of them. Didn't expect you to tell it that easily. Disdaining any further word, the "pathfinder" returns to his task.
From his position in the pilot's seat, Zev cuts his eyes from Hayden to the navbay door (now empty), to the others in the cockpit, and back to Hayden. Ooooookayyyyy . . . . That seems fun. I'm sure we'll have a nice candle-lit dinner with lace doilies and firewine in cut-crystal glasses sorting through . . . whatever that is . . . . The young transport jockey uses that light-hearted quip to segue back to the ongoing discussion, looking to Zargro. And what do you bring to the table, Kresh? Other than miraculously talking Lofkte into giving you a ship, I mean.
The rhythmic clank of ThetaZero's droid feet grows steadily louder as he moves into the bridge doorway, just in time to hear Hayden's quiet admission. As the conversation continues, the droid's eerie gaze focuses on each of the other beings present -- but, pointedly, not at BeShawn.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 = 9
If anyone (*cough*, *cough* Vadi!) wants to make a retroactive Bluff check, go right ahead. GM Freebie -- violence is NOT imminent; just adding the studied target bonus as a narrative device to denote how *keen* the droid's attention is . . . . }:>
EDIT: Not that such a roll will be needed, or anything . . . .
At Rhea's question, the HK unit goes stock-still -- even to the point that the whir of his processors is muted. Confused Query: Special orders? Regarding Master Hayden?! Of course not!! But in a gesture unsettlingly out of place, not just because of the contradiction it indicates, but also due to its source, the droid bobs his head vigorously in the affirmative even as his vocabulator disagrees.
Stealthy Zabrak!:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Hayden, as Le is behind your seated orientation, feel free to roll opposed Perception.
Le interrupts his computations and returns to the navbay/bridge door, quietly. Rather than leaning in as he did before, the Zabrak navigator peers cautiously into the cockpit, keeping himself pressed close to the bulkhead. His attention is focused solely on the Corellian as he does so, and his eyes are filled with suspicion.
Sensing the lull in the group's conversation, Zev addresses the bridge crew. I'm in until we finish this job, at least. If it turns out well enough, maybe we can make a go of being a real team. We barely know each other, though -- tough to be ready for any surprises when we have more questions than answers. He pans his gaze around the room, making eye contact with everyone before continuing. I've already said why I'm sticking with this job, and here's the how: I'm clearly practiced at piloting this rust-bucket; I'm a fair hand with a pistol; I'm good at noticing details that can make all the difference when things go wrong. I can kinda "mechanic", when I have to, but I'm not very experienced with it. . . . . So I can fly, fight, and watch, with a little spanner-turning thrown in. What about you, Le? I saw your eyes light up when we started talking credits -- how are you gonna earn your cut?
Boots scrape on deckplates briefly, and the Zabrak leans into the cockpit by holding the doorframe in his left hand. His posture is rather nonchalant, but his words are confident. I'm a . . . "pathfinder", if you will. Between stars, or planetside landmarks, or sprawling stations, I can help you get where you're going. My homeworld's a pretty hardscrabble place, so I'm better on the dirt than I am on a ship, really, just by experience . . . . And I've done plenty of fighting. . . . . I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, too. Le flashes a brief grin before going back to the nav station. So we can get there from here -- what else can we do?
Well . . . . Maybe this will force the issue . . . .
Kreshell slots his credstick into the dataport at the starboard terminal and finalizes the transaction. As the computer processes the incoming data, a few members of the crew hear their freshly-synched comlinks chime with incoming messages.
Hayden:
My dear boy --
I'm sorry I wasn't able to see you off before you had to leave Coruscant. You know I've been busy with the Onderonian embassy, and I couldn't get out of that meeting. I hope you're well, and that your "exile" isn't too terrible for you.
I was able to speak with a handful of the Masters, though, and those curmudgeons were completely unapologetic. To think!! A sitting Senator's son booted from Republic space because of a fashionably scandalous dalliance!! There'll come a time when they ask for something from the Appropriations Committee, though . . . . They'll get theirs soon enough, don't worry.
I met her, too. She seems wonderful, if a bit brow-beaten. But, then, being stuck in that sprawling building with that pack of crusty ascetics would crimp my style, too, you know . . . . I'm not certain, but I think she's being sent to Dantooine -- that's the cue I picked up on, anyway. And she's been saddled with a "watcher" that looks older than your grandfather. The poor dear. I made sure she has your comm data, though -- maybe you'll hear from her soon.
It would be nice to see you soon! And we may just have a chance, too! In a month's time, I'll be part of the diplomatic envoy to Onderon. The negotiations shouldn't take long to finalize, but it wouldn't technically be Republic territory until after the accords were signed. Maybe you could drop by for a quick visit? I'll keep you updated.
Oh, yes! One thing more: being a Senator has its privileges. I have your weapon in my keeping -- just in case you needed extra incentive to come see me.
Love, my darling!
Vadi:
Vadi --
Things have gotten even *more* tense here since you and that motley bunch blasted out of the Chaser. Vogga and Caandra are nearly in an open war, now; bad enough for us here, but it may mean you have less to worry with till that settles down. Most of Caandra's people are too tied up dealing with things here to go chasing your ship.
But the news isn't all "good", either.
Horeadash's group have pinned you as his killer, and they've put a 300,000-credit bounty on your head. Dead or alive. If the word in the wind is right, a pair of Defel have won the contract -- and the word is that they're good. Keep the lights on!
Stay safe out there -- I can't win all your credits if you don't make it back here!
I'll keep feeding you all the info I can, but I may not be able to stick around here too much longer -- I need a quieter place to work my game than Breaker's, right now.
-- Ayyep
Rhea:
Rhea,
Thanks for sending me that cute little knick-knack! It's wonderful!
I finally got paid earlier today, so I went ahead and transferred the 3k I owed back to your account.
Now, the package said it was sent from Nar Shaddaa, but I haven't been able to find you there. Where are you? Mom is having a fit, and is screaming for you to let her know where you are.
Anyway, I hope you're having fun out there! I need to get back to the office -- my break is almost over.
See you!
Your sister,
Bea
Le wastes no time in beginning the new set of nav calculations, and as he busies himself in the astrogation bay, Zargro sees an alert for a high-priority comm flash across his display. Having too clear an idea of what to expect, he opens the message.
A grainy image of Fliina fills his screen, the telltale greyscale of a handheld holorecorder showing a woman in a tough spot. The fatigue in her eyes is obvious, and blood trickles from a cut across her right cheekbone. The repeating carbine in her right hand smokes from its barrel, and the glow of its emitter aperture is visible. Little of her surroundings can be discerned, but the whine of blasterfire and the thump of concussion grenades can be heard as a constant din in the background. Her eyes are just as intense and resolute as they were in the tapcaf, though, and the steel in her carriage and tone are filled with menace.
I should have known you were a plant, Zargro. I told Jebber to skip that meet, but he wouldn't listen. He seems to like you; probably changed his mind now, if he's still alive.
Caandra's frothing from every orifice. Even if you and Zev finish the job we gave you, I don't know what to expect from her. I hope she gives you to me, you smug bastard -- because you can rest assured that we'll catch up to you. And there'll be hell to pay for all this.
That stunt with the fuel freighter was all the excuse Vogga needed to start horning in on our turf. What the blazes was Zev thinking, trying that?! . . . . Doesn't matter. Once we're done cauterizing these Trandoshans to death, we're coming for you, one way or another.
And wipe that poodoo-eating grin off your face, you lousy red devil. You know good and well that there are enough of us to make this galaxy really small, really fast. So if this is what I think it is, then you and Zev both get to die slow. And if it's what Jebber thought, . . . well, maybe you can figure a way to make this right, and save your skins. I dare you to.
Don't die till I get to look you in the eyes again, Devaronian.
We can fill in any desired conversational lines later, perhaps with the use of spoilered text. We're going to move ahead a bit more.
Eventually, Le and Kresh make their way to the bridge as the moment approaches for the ship to drop out of hyperspace. Zev takes the time to ensure everyone's comlinks are synched to the ship, and then powers down the hyperdrive motivator at Le's instruction.
The stars snap back into view as the organics aboard feel their innards lurch with the realspace reversion. Kreshell performs a quick scan to link with the nearest hyperspace beacon, and learns that the cost of getting a fresh nav data download is 50 credits -- more than three times the price of the same service in Republic space: but, then, this is Hutt-controlled territory -- the only things that are cheap here are those that do you little good.
A tiny decision point here, Zargro -- pony up the cash as a "cost of being the boss", while also leaving a trail for any pursuers to find? You'll also certainly receive those enraged comms from Nar Shaddaa, and any personal comms meant for individuals. There's also the "free" bonus of getting the latest HoloNet News Network datafeed, too -- standard with any nav download, effected by an agreement between the Hyperspace Navigators' Guild and the HNN.
Since we have a couple of things "in play" here, I'll hold off on anything further until we read some feedback. I'm ready when y'all are!
Since we seem to be in a lull, I'm going to gloss over some things and get us to Toydaria. And we may even hit "fast forward" even more to get to Manaan . . . . I'm still trying to find the "angle of attack" to truly launch this campaign . . . . I seriously considered Synchro's recommendation of a Gargantuan 'hyperspace mynock' . . . .
This will probably take a series of posts, so hang on . . . .
The hours fall away swiftly as Spice Rush tunnels through hyperspace. Kreshell eventually wearies of engaging Rhea in conversation; Vadi decides that claiming a bunk is better than irritated solitaire pazaak; ThetaZero continues his exploration of the ship's systems while awaiting Hayden's awakening.
Eventually, Zev comes to relieve Rhea on the bridge, just about the same time Hayden emerges from his own dorm.
Whispering conspiratorially to Rhea, Zev says: I'll level with you: I'd rather not share that cabin with Zargro. I cleared Bharal's stuff out of the way, and the second bunk is yours, if you like. If the "captain" makes any fuss, we can just sell it as being better to have both pilots closer to where they're needed. Just a thought. He brings his voice back to a normal volume. Go get some rest, miss. I'll handle the transition at Toydaria -- it's just a few hours from now. If anything happens, we'll wake you.
Zev kept the double-cabin locked for the duration of his sleep cycle, so *if* Kresh chose to sleep (which I reckoned was likely), he'd be in one of the four unclaimed bunks in the central passage . . . or maybe in one of the holds -- wherever! I'd like to see Rhea's response to this line of play, and any feedback from Saashaa, as soon as may be.
Oh, yeah! Lemme see your comlink for a second, before you go. We never really had a . . . "crew meeting", or whatever, but we should get everybody's comms synched to the ship relay. That way we can keep everyone in the loop if we split up while planetside, or something. It'll route long-distance comms through the ship's transponder once we get a nav update, too. As Zev reaches for Rhea's proffered device, he sees a yawning Hayden down the hallway, and beckons him nearer. Thanks again for that drink. It helped! Might as well get your comlink synched up, too, while I'm getting Rhea's done. . . . . And, if you like, pull up a seat for a while -- we can talk while we wait for that reroute at Toydaria.
As Hayden's Force-enhanced senses reach beyond his dormitory room, he finds that he can see into his shipmates to a small degree. His focus continues to deepen, and he becomes aware of several aspects of the crew members, just below the veneer of the physical.
I'm going to break this down by character and category just to streamline it a bit. It may seem too brief, but note my addendum at the end of the spoiler.
Zev:
-- Aura: none (roll a Perception check!)
-- Shapechanger: nothing at all
-- Loyalties: His conflicted sense of Family looms large in the young man's heart, but it overwhelms his dedication to Self by an order of magnitude. A distant third loyalty resonates along Zev's perspective of the Crew -- perhaps denoting uncertainty.
-- Alignment: His place on the 'spectrum of the Force' carries the sense of being firmly neutral, yet touched lightly by the power of the Light. (Neutral-Light)
Le Za-Deen:
-- Aura: It is quickly clear that the Zabrak possesses the Force in a disciplined, focused way. (Roll a Sense Motive check!)
-- Shapechanger: nothing at all
-- Loyalties: Za-Deen appears to be loyal to only one thing -- Self. All else is of no concern to him.
-- Alignment: For the first time in what seems forever, Hayden senses someone upon whom the crackling, burning-ember taint of the Dark side rests like a welcome blanket. Za-Deen's past deeds have drawn him deeply toward the shadows. (Heavily Dark-Neutral, nearly full Dark)
Kreshell:
-- Aura: not a blip
-- Shapechanger: still nothing
-- Loyalties: Kresh's first commitment is to Self, with Crew coming in a respectable distance behind that. There is a vague sense of Family being a consideration, but its position is almost too weak to count.
-- Alignment: The Devaronian captain reads as being firmly neutral, swayed toward neither the Light nor the Dark.
Vadi:
-- Aura: The Force is with her, but it is an intuitive, untrained employment of its strengths.
-- Shapechanger: a blank scan
-- Loyalties: Self is first, and a fading dedication to the Exchange is dying away in her mind.
-- Alignment: The Twi'lek is hazed about by the cloudy power of the Dark side, but its grasp on her is tenuous. (Faintly Neutral Dark)
Rhea:
-- Aura: The Force is with her, and its power for her is one gained through intense self-discipline and focus.
-- Shapechanger: not present
-- Loyalties: Rhea's top two loyalties exist in a rather tangled snarl -- Country and Family both vie for first place in her mind, but subject to both of those is her Self-interest.
-- Alignment: Firmly Neutral
I'm going to run with the notion that everyone will read this. I have made this exposition based upon the discussions carried on during our character creation efforts. I have *not* followed up on those conversations simply to avoid metagaming too much -- divination is a touchy, tricksy thing sometimes. If my understanding is amiss, folks, redirect your revisionary comments to Discussion, and we'll retcon as needed. If needed.
While Kreshell rustles up some food in the galley, Hayden and ThetaZero convert the bunk room opposite the improvised brig into a medbay. The portable medstation fits conveniently into the corner next to the bed, and the shelving holds the assortment of kits and packs with ample room to spare. Improving the available inventory shouldn't be too difficult, Hayden reckons; and, given that Manaan is on the itinerary, acquiring raw materials to implement that should be *quite* cost-effective.
ThetaZero retires to the engine compartment to enter his diagnostic "sleep" mode. Hayden elects to take the bunk next to the new medbay, and spends much time in meditation, focusing on relaxing away his frustrations and tension.
Le Za-Deen also chooses a room, the one nearest the navicomputer bay. He breaks down his stuffed rucksack, distributing his handful of possessions about the tiny dorm. He fusses over exactly how much of his equipment to keep in the rucksack for quite some time -- some would call it a mild paranoia, but he prefers to consider it 'constant preparation'. Eventually, every item is returned to the bag -- he cannot bear to be found without one of his tools at hand . . . .
Zev finds Rhea soon after the workbench's installation. You want to take the first turn on the bridge, or should I? Seems we're the only two able to fly this thing, so one of us should always be awake, I figure . . . .
Revolted Objection: Oh, do please stop trying to 'humanize' me, Master Hayden. Purposeful function is quite sufficient. Such existential musings are needless . . . . At least, until the very last target has been eliminated. The droid looks over to Rhea, commenting: Surprised Observation: Oh. Now we're concerned with cautious practice? Wouldn't attempting the droid brain conversion now be more likely to bring about more of your lauded "insanity-induced innovation"? Astonishing!
Even so, the droid turns to the task at hand, plugging into the ship's computer and guiding Hayden through the steps to access a suitable power conduit. As Hayden cuts away portions of the bulkhead, Theta-Zero uses the other plasma torch to weld a cowling into existence, meant to protect the power lines that will supply the workbench.
Then, processing unit abuzz with activity, the Corellian's guardian consults the power grid telemetry to isolate how best to splice the workbench into the ship.
Patient Instruction: I have disengaged the energy feed to the wiring cluster fourth from the top, Master. No, fourth from the top. . . . . Yes, that one. Since the workbench requires little power to operate, a simple splicing there will make it operational, and will not put any undue strain on the grid.
And, within a few more minutes, the garage workbench is energized and fully operational.
After about ten minutes' effort, the workbench is finally nestled against the interior wall of Spice Rush's "garage". Vadi quickly yielded room for Zev and Le to gain better leverage on the metallic heap, though, as the work went on, following along as the flat grey finish of the promenade deck gained several more shiny scratch marks.
As soon as he was satisfied with the workbench's position, Theta-Zero retrieves both plasma torches and turns to his master. Polite Entreaty: Master Hayden, as the forthcoming work on the droid brain will be greatly facilitated by making this workbench operational, I request your assistance in integrating it with the ship's power grid. The droid continues as he passes one torch to the young Corellian. Veiled Threat: And do be careful -- we wouldn't want you to suffer any . . . dismemberment before we made your medbay ready.
Zev and Le Za-Deen move to assist with moving the workbench to the other side of the ship, both grousing genially about the absence of a repulsorsled to do the heavy lifting.
Rhea's sifting of the datacards and datapads yields something of light interest: five of the ten datacards are all labeled in numerical order, and have a color scheme that corresponds to one of the datapads. Upon trying to access the first datacard, though, she finds that the datapad itself is password-locked.
Theta-Zero stalks up next to Hayden just as Kreshell announces the workbench project. His vocabulator is pitched low, and he offers the young man a report. Mystified Summary: I have completed my analysis of the computer system, master. It appears that the erratic performance of the computers during our departure is directly connected to the . . . ah . . . slipshod integration of that spare droid brain in to the mainframe. That accessory is quite old, and its programming language is occasionally at odds with that of the ship's computer. The communication errors only become obvious when the systems are adjusted via outside agency. It has, in a way, though, infected the ship with errant bits of data; any extemporaneous corrections must be performed continuously in order for them to take hold. Recommendation: Removing that droid brain from its current function, wiping its programming and subroutines, and then reintegrating it with the mainframe proper would be the best possible solution. That would, unfortunately, limit it to a dedicated functionality -- whether targeting, or sensors, or another category of necessary function. Cautionary Statement: This conversion could be performed during our hyperspace journey, but any errors made in the attempt may put you at unnecessary risk. I would suggest making that effort once the ship is docked with a station, or landed on a habitable planet. The droid watches Zev and Le keenly as they stroll past, headed for the port beam cargo bay. Interrogative: Do you intend for us to assist with the workbench relocation?
At the mention of the Selkath and Bothans, Vadi and Rhea compare their past experiences, seeking helpful insight.
Vadi has never encountered a Selkath before, and all Rhea recalls is that they are an amphibious race with strong isolationist tendencies. Their control of the kolto industry gave them enough economic clout to remain neutral during the Jedi Civil War, and they sold the medicinal agent to the Republic and the Empire -- until Revan uncovered a Sith plot to commandeer the planet's productivity. Over the last several years, the Republic has enjoyed near-exclusive access to the substance's distribution, but enough independent distributors yet remain on Manaan that the group's mission should be straightforwardly handled. As a race, the Selkath also have a powerful inclination toward maintaining order -- any illegal or destructive activity is usually met with overwhelming force by law officers. Run a "tight ship", the Selkath do.
So far as the Bothans are concerned, though, there is somewhat more information at their disposal. While working as an Exchange envoy, Vadi dealt with a handful of Bothan agents; Rhea's professional experience is rife with anecdotes of Bothan activities. The furred, bipedal Bothans are not known as a hardy race, per se, but are known as masters of intrigue and political maneuverings. Whether internally or in the galaxy at large, Bothans are always seeking ways to expand the influence and reputation of their various clans, and indeed their race as a whole. Though it's difficult to prove some of the tales, their rumored ability to turn quiet scandals into full-blown character assassinations is the stuff of legend.
Using these few bits of data, and the known quantities of the Spice Rush crew's situation, Rhea is able build a theory about this job's purpose, while still dodging any open declarations of her employment. So, no, Rhea hasn't blown her cover. It seems likely that some grouping of Bothans has contracted with a known Exchange boss to acquire a kolto shipment, and in so doing, avoid the Republic bureaucracy from learning of it at all. Considering that the Bothans are Republic members, it suggests that something is afoot.
Rhea's theory gains some corroboration when the Zabrak seeks out Kreshell. Looks like the full trip should take us about 300 hours of flight time, so we should be able to finish this up with a few days to spare on that 3-week timetable. I've adjusted our jump to drop out of hyperspace at Toydaria, about 15 hours from now. A simple recalculation after we get that update, and we're on track! Here Za-Deen hesitates a moment, but then presses on. Funny thing, though, is the jump to Kothlis. The rendezvous coordinates aren't anywhere close to Kothlis itself. The system's got two asteroid fields, and we're supposed to make our drop on the verge of the outer ring. Behind a pair of gas giants. Whoever it is we're meeting out there, they don't want us seen.
Theta-Zero levels his lambent gaze upon Rhea for a brief moment. Vindicated Observation: Repair, but do not upgrade . . . . Certainly. I wonder what innovations will be prompted by this decision. Then the droid turns toward the portside promenade and clanks off to do . . . something.
Zev hoists the bottle and gulps down three huge swallows before plopping it down on the table. Manaan?! Wow. Hmph. Republic space, after all. Thanks for the drink, Hayden; I may ask for more later. Zev's eyes trickle a bit as he stands up, but that is simply from the steeling burn of the alcohol; he's mastered his feelings, for the moment.
Za-Deen reacquires his fork and wolfs down the last of his food, somewhat noisily. Ah! That was good! As he begins moving toward the nav bay, he addresses Zargro. I'll find us a decent spot to end this jump so we can readjust and jump again, but, if I remember correctly, there aren't any reliable hyperlanes to Manaan from where we are. We'll need to access a hyperspace beacon to update our data -- otherwise, we may have too much trouble getting there . . . . I'll keep you posted on what I can plot. He ducks down the central passage, and the ship resonates with his hearty belch for a few seconds.
It is quickly determined that consolidating the odds and ends scattered about the ship into the starboard beam hold makes the most sense. With some ergonomic and logistical finagling, the airspeeder, speeder bike, workbench, and majority of other gear can be snugged into that one bay, and still allow room to move and work. There is a bit of a catch, though -- the workbench is awkwardly heavy, and as there is no repulsorsled aboard, relocating it from the other side of the vessel will take muscle and sweat, and won't be kind to the finish on the deck plates . . . .
Even so, over the course of a couple of hours, each canister is investigated, its contents sorted, and the lot tabulated.
5x Medpac
2x Antidote kit
10x Chempacks (Just called 'chemicals' in KotOR II)
1x Rebreather mask
5x Rebreather filters
2x Plasma torch
10x Energy cell
5x Power cell
1x Power pack
25x Components
4x Computer spike
1x Macrobinoculars
16x Miscellaneous datapads
10x Miscellaneous datacards
Will get another post up soon, regarding the questions of Selkath and Bothan dealings. Need to do a little more adulting first. Read y'all again soon!
Vadi's words and Hayden's nudging break through Zev's reticence. And the floodgates open.
When you get down to it, the debt ain't mine -- it's Bharal's. But since he's dead now, Caandra's holding it over my head. The message Jebber left for me told me where most of my foster-father's income went: to support his family. A wife and three younglings! I didn't even know about 'em till just now!! But Bharal was taking more than his cut out of our jobs, and Jebber kept quiet about it as long as he could. Caandra's factor started auditing her accounts a few weeks back, though, and Jebber couldn't cover it up any longer. Once we got back from dropping that Wookiee off on Kashyyyk, we went into her audience chamber, business as usual. The questions got ugly really quick, . . . and they just shot him dead, right then and there!! . . . . I didn't really know my biological father, but I know Bharal raised me up because he owed my father for something. Spent so much time with that Klatooinian I never woulda thought he had time for a family life . . . . And he had shorted Caandra about 200k over the last couple years . . . . So now their lives are forfeit if I don't make good on what he owed. I figure another fifty thousand might get me the whole way clear. . . . . I doubt we'll settle it all at one go, but if I don't manage to start throwing money at 'em, my father's . . . my friend's folks are gonna die! It is with difficulty that Zev doesn't break into tears, but it's obvious that they are near to flowing. Twice-orphaned and pinned by the worst kind of leverage, the young man shows that he has a heart and a spine . . . . Perhaps he will find a path through this trial.
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Back in the cockpit, Kreshell uploads the content of the two datacards to the panel display at the starboard station. At once, Kreshell laughs aloud as he thinks back to Zev's remark about a job in Republic space being unlikely. For though the job doesn't take Spice Rush and crew to the Core, it does lead them to one of the Republic's most prized locations . . . the watery world of Manaan.
And that, most likely, means only one thing -- kolto -- the lifeblood of medical efforts throughout the galaxy. It is Manaan's only *true* trade commodity -- and the price is rising as production has slowed in recent years.
The job calls for a pickup at a hangar bay on the northern edge of Ahto City, followed by a delivery to the fringes of the Kothlis system in Bothan space, and finalized with a payment delivery back on Nar Shaddaa. All the relevant coordinates and contact protocols have been provided, so, on its face, it appears a simple enough task. Though dealings with the Selkath and the Bothans are known to be . . . intriguing.
Zev stops chewing altogether, and he blinks a few times . . . slowly. With a strained gulp he downs the mouthful, and then exclaims, Share??! I just did!! A sheen of sweat begins to form across his forehead as he continues: This is what I know: one -- I don't know what the job is; two -- Jebber gave you the datacard with that information on it back at the tapcaf; and three -- I need two hundred and fifty thousand credits to get clear of Caandra. Other than that, I have no idea what you're asking about, Kresh. Zev props his elbows on the table, left arm resting atop his right, and his jaw sets in a stubborn line as he waits . . . .
With a squelching thump, Zev's utensil drops into his bowl as he shoots a shocked expression at Zargro's back. Kreshell, I'm not trying to overstep, but the odds that the job actually is in the Lantillies system is close to zero. That's Republic space! Jebber said we had three weeks to finish the gig, and a Class Three can only do so much . . . . You do know this ship isn't hypercomm-equipped, right? You won't get the foaming-at-the-mouth, "You're all dead!" message till we drop out of hyperspace and update our nav data. He snatches up his fork and stabs another bite of food. . . . and I've got to make sure this job gets done. . . . . So I need to know where we need to go -- unless you've got a quarter-mil worth of credits you're just giving away. Zev begins chewing the mouthful so hard that his teeth can be heard grinding together.
Le Za-Deen fumbles his own fork into his nearly-empty dish at the mention of a quarter-million's worth of credits. He peers wide-eyed at Zev, and then at Kreshell. You could buy two ships fresh from the shipyard for that much! That's . . . that's . . . . Fierfek. The Zabrak's expression takes on a savage cast as he waits for the tension to be broken. The talk of credits in such numbers has seized his interest, in the most mercenary of fashions.
