Pirate Hunting

[Dakota]

THEME.​

Of all the systems and all the worlds he'd visited during his time with the Jedi, be it in the Order or serving its newly formed Army, perhaps it was the world of Agamar that perplexed him the most. This place, he thought, exemplified the very worst that war had to offer, and symbolized the utter futility of conflict; many good men, good women and innocent children had died when the Sith conquered Agamar, and many continue to die as their masters press forward into the Mid Rim and beyond. But their deaths—the myriad, disgusting forms in which they took under the watchful eye of their Sith conquerers—came to shift the power of a barren, rocky world. They know know, the Jedi, that every world is of value in the age of conquest. What Agamar could not supply in farm production, supplies or technology, it could more than make up for as an outpost for future liberation operations in the sector. That, and the people there deserved to live a life free from their conflict. Was that not the purpose of living on a barren world, to be truly free?

Following the drop out of hyperspace, Jyr'ast returned to what he'd been doing prior to setting his ships automatic control, namely tending to the shelf of data-pads he keeps behind the cockpit. While his partner had been quiet, presumably meditating, the sharpened nails that jutted out from his leathery fingers quietly rolled across the edges of the sleek metal, perusing the various labels he'd written on them, all of which are in Basic. "Bombing of Serenno," "Creation of the Grand Army of the Republic," and other archival things line his make-shift bookshelf, as well as his texts on the Jedi Code. But just as he'd begun to comfort himself in the presence of history, a noise ploddingly cracked from the control console, informing them that the ship had reached the planets atmosphere. After regretably pulling his hand away from the rows of data, the Kel Dor pressed his hands to both his mouth and his eyes, individually, assuring that both the metal goggles and rebreather were firmly attatched. By now, this was only a matter of habit; Jyr'ast never removed either his goggles or his rebreather, and as a result his skin has since healed over the metal, forming a strange bond with it that even he, in his desire to breath clean helium again, wouldn't dare to break. Adjusting his robes, he turned toward his Miralukan ally. "I hope these men come peacefully. This world has already seen far to much senseless violence." His voice, earnest and serene, came through the filters of his rebreather in a darker, muffled tone, but still easily understandable. As the ship approached the surface, Jyr'ast returned to the pilots chair and carefully guided it to the ground, not far from a pirate camp nestled in the Agamarian mountains. He kept his lightsaber close at hand, just in case his optimism failed him.

@Vinny @Vosrik

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra remained seated for much of their hyperspace voyage, listening quietly to several database entries discussing both general information on the planet Agamar as well as details on the planet's varying factions and power-bases. What she had learned in these past few hours was that there was very little that the Jedi actually knew about the barren planet save for the most general information that did not need to be regularly updated. Several more detailed drops of information had been tacked on at the end of the second datatape, hurriedly acquired information intended specifically for this mission. Nimarra let out a low breath and felt the force calm her tense mind and body, easing the emotion from her chest, to her arms, to her hands, to her fingertips before dissipating it out into space.

When Jyr'ast rose from his seat, she had already finished digesting the last of the information. She turned her pale head, bound as it was by a simple cloth. White hair like starlight fell over alabaster skin that was carefully wrapped in the folds of the robes of a Jedi Knight. Her shoulders, arms, thighs, knees and feet were all encased in armor. Gauntlets and greaves that had been granted to her by an ally, consumed with gratitude. In her minds eye she could make out the presence that was Jyr'ast move, see the flickering in the force, observe him without eyes. She returned her sightless expression to the floor, remaining cross legged and passive.

"We should hold out hope, but I sense that the conflict that has ravaged this world has too shaped the minds of those that reside here. We should be prepared for the worst, Knight Jyr'ast." The paladin said, equally serene, running a gauntleted finger along the handle of one of the two lightsabers hanging from her utility belt.

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

Unlike his partner, he wore very little armor; what few plates that covered him were buried beneath his robes, and were merely for shrapnel and other environmental hazards. This was as much a rhetorical choice as it was a practical one. Despite the obvious threat, he was convinced and remains convinced that the Jedi's role is that of a peacekeeping force, not an Army. Even as he is, ostesibly, a member of an army, he continues to uphold those values as a bulwark against the possibility of the Jedi learning to love war, and revel in its splendor as the Sith do. Though he remained thoughoughly optimistic, he could not (without lying to himself) suggest that Nimarra's words were in any way untrue. Violence is a curious thing, as is war, and both have the untouchable power to bend the social landscape of a world beyond the point of repair. Through the haze of his own partial blindness, and the obstructions that are the metal goggles latched to his skin, he could see quite clearly her hand caressing the grip of the Jedi's mythic weapon. The sight unnerved him in the most uncanny of ways, but he kept these feelings to himself, locked deep within his chest. His own hilt remained strapped to his belt, beneath his robes. "Yes, I feel this too." Upon stepping down from the ship's loading ramp, and after both of them were firmly situated on the ground, the ship closed itself once again and locked tight. The Kel Dor then carefully drew his hood over his head, as they departed for the camp.

"I have prepared for all possibilities, but there remains an echo of goodness in them. I feel it, trapped beneath the bone." As they walked, he quietly turned his head toward Nimarra, inspected the blades at her sides, and returned to watching the path ahead of them. The mountains were mere minutes away. He could already sense the presence of the pirates on the plateau, slaving away doing mechanical work and drinking heartily as a celebration of that days plunder. "I would reccomend covering those with your robe," he said with a cautious but still cordial tone. He was referring to the hilts she carried, tethered to the belt. "Weapons in sight may provoke them." He appreciated her readiness—it was important, after all, to be prepared for self-defense—but he'd hoped to maintain a diplomatic relationship, even with pirates. Many Jedi would simply get rid of them wholesale if provoked, but even he saw something to redeem in the hearts of criminals. If it could be done without the loss of life, he would consider it a success.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra remained stoic as uncertainty rippled through the ship. It was a faint thing, distant and well hidden by her companion. Only her blindness and force sight allowed her to detect the faintest hint of the emotion. Her lip twitched, he was not alone, uncertainty gripped at her as well. She was a Knight of the Jedi Order, and though she had been approached to join the Jedi Army, she had chosen to remain at the direct disposal of the Jedi Council. She had been sent many times by the council, much to the chagrin of the master whom had trained her, to destroy wielders of the dark side. That task, however, was a sacred one. These were merely people, individuals protecting what they have and the lives they live.

"I certainly hope that you are correct. Would this end without bloodshed I would be quite relieved." She said, a bit of solemnity breaking through her serene demeanor as she fell into step with him outside the ship. She bore no joy or glory in the acts she committed for the good of the galaxy and at the order of the Jedi Council. In fact, the thought of killing anyone caused her heart to tighten in her chest. She was momentarily distracted from the ruminations on the nature of her oath when he pointed out the visibility of her weapons. "You are correct." She said, not tilting her head an inch as she reached down and unclipped them, sliding them into the confines of her robes. It was best that they remained unfastened anyway.

"I apologize, it shames me to admit that the subject matter of the last several missions I have been given by the council has left me with a habit of wearing my weapons for all to see. Something I must now make an effort to control." Nimarra said with a renewed serenity. She tilted her head toward the Kel Dor. "Thank you, Knight Jyr'ast."

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

"There's no need to apologize to me," he said, comfortingly. In truth, he didn't mean to chastise. But, given his various experiences with diplomacy in unstable systems, pirates could be an especially volitile group. Her admission of previous martial action succeeds in throwing him off, if only just a little. His own master had been a Miralukan, and to his knowledge, it seemed as though their kind were more like him; students of the Force. Despite his rigid, often fundamentalist interpretation of the Jedi Code, he understands that there are eventually times in which a Jedi must call forth their blade for the defense of both themselves and the innocent, but this seemed to be something more. The implication seemed to be that the Council has been ordering more and more of these attacks, which confused him. Those were things he associated with the Jedi Lord, not the wisdom of the Council. "It is quite a hectic world we live in, young one. Far stranger a world than I've ever seen. The blade is important, but we cannot let it consume us. Or we risk becoming the very thing we have sworn to defend against." He doesn't intend his words to be patronising; he's an older Jedi, but it's likely that she's seen far more tragedy than he. All Jedi have a responsibility to bind one another back to their sacred oaths, and he hopes she would do the same for him.

As he finishes speaking, the land before them became increasingly elevated, as they've finally reached the mountains. Thankfully, after consulting a holographic map of the area, only a short trek through the teeth of the mountain range was necessary before they reached the plateau. There, in a rather large makeshift camp, sat a band of twelve pirates of no discernable allegience. A motley band at first sight, they all looked as though death had, at least once, touched them. They were laborious men, strong men, each burdened with a mark about their features of some kind. For one, an injured man laying at the aft of the plateau near the ship, his wounds were fresh; blaster fire had tore through his shoulder, leaving him groaning as the ships attendant tried to gather the necessary bacta to recall him to life. Others still, like the world-weary captain wore his wounds on his sleeve, like a scar that marked his lower jaw. All in all there were three injured men on the cold ground in the uncaring sun that day; the aforementioned man, and two more with injuries to the abdomen that to a layman appeared incurable. Transmitting his thoughts telepathically, Jyr'ast theorized to Nimarra that they were likely back from an expedition into a neighboring town, or perhaps a raid in the atmosphere. In order to appear as non-threatening as he could, the Kel Dor slowly removed his hood, and made himself visible to the band at the bottom. He made it clear that he was unarmed, but given their volitile nature, that didn't stop two of them from training the sights of their blasters on the two strangers. For now, their fingers did not touch the triggers.

 

[Vinny]

The miralukan jedi nodded, remaining silent as they made their way up the path. Despite her silence, she expanded her senses, taking in a wider array of information on the world around them. As a Miralukan she had a nearly three hundred and sixty degree conceptualization of her world and while it allowed her to be aware of everything around her, it also made it difficult to focus on one particular thing. It was a delicate balance that she chose to maintain by remaining silent when Jyr'ast reached out to her telepathically. She also chose to ignore the gazes that fell upon her, she was aware of her appearance, an 'unearthly-beauty' or 'angelic' glow that hung around her. It was a stark contrast to the simple brown robes that she preferred to any other dress. Though their eyes also fell on the gauntlets that crept up to her elbows and the greaves that accentuated her legs up to her knees. For the moment, she would assume the role of guardian, standing by Jyr'ast as he spoke and keeping her senses on the surroundings.

There was a brief argument in the rear, Nimarra counted three men bickering amongst themselves about what to do in regards to the two visitors. One insisted on "blast'n 'em" while another more powerful voice muttered something about "talking" while the third argued that they should "send 'em away". The exchange was enough to stir a reaction from Nimarra, whom wanted to ensure Jyr'ast's safety, he was a far better diplomat than she was and if she could diffuse the situation he could have the opportunity to lay the groundwork of an accord. Nimarra's expression did not change, nor did the tilt of her head, but she opened her mouth just enough to speak and said;

"I am Jedi Knight Nimarra Skai, this is Jedi Knight Jyr'ast." She began, gesturing blindly to Jyr'ast. "We are here to talk to you, and perhaps see to your wounds if you would allow it, both of us have experience in medicine, though Jyr'ast is my senior in such things."

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

Despite the blasters aimed in their direction, he did little but reveal his hands to the pirates beneath him, ensuring them that he had nothing to harm them with. "She is right. We've only come to talk, and to offer our assistance." Incredulous, two of the weapons remained trained on the Jedi, but one has fallen. An exhausted quartermaster, with a sigh of defeat, dropped his weapon on the ground to continue eating a small ration in the shadow of his ship. The Kel Dor turned his vision to the man who seemed to be their leader, an older pirate whose dress seemed to indicate that this wasn't always his line of work. He could faintly make out the markings of the Mandalorians on his shoulder, though he couldn't discern his clan from that distance, nor would he attempt to read his mind to find out. His head turned once more to the various wounded men laying on the ground, and he raised his arm to point in their general direction. "Vi liser gaa'taylir gar," he said; we can help them. He motioned toward Nimarra and, nodding, repeated himself in Mando'a; "Ruusaan." Reliable one. The other members of the captain's party remained deeply confused, themselves being neither Mandalorians or scholarly enough to have learned the Mandalorian language.

After a moment of contemplation, the captain lowered his rifle, using his free arm to instruct his subordinate to do the same. "Work quickly, Jedi. And don't double cross me." The captain's voice was rough and seasoned, as if it had itself seen hundreds of systems and thousands of conflicts in its all too brief existence. Motioning for Nimarra to follow, the Kel Dor quietly descended the rocky cliff into the heart of the pirate's camp, moving off to the left to one of the most grevious injuries, and motioning for Nimarra to do the same with the second. These two were, without the Force, beyond help; the pirates had a ready stache of bacta in their ship, so they whispered about, but bacta alone couldn't fix these wounds. Kneeling down next to the man—he called him a man, but in reality he couldn't have been more than twenty years old—Jyr'ast held his hands over the wound and closed both eyes beneath his metal goggles. In his concentration, he began to call forth the Living Force through the core of his being before letting it exit his body through the palms of his hands. The healing process for any lifeform is slow, and so it was; the wound was carefully stabalized before, with minutes of concentration, the cells within began to knit themselves back together.

During the process, he looked back at the captain, who had since moved closer to the ship with a hand on his blaster to make sure the Jedi hadn't swindled him. "What caused this?" The answer was obvious, a blaster bolt, but that's not what he meant. The captain, biding his time, scaled the ramp leading to the cargo hold of his ship to make sure everything had been secure. "Just a normal run on a village nearby," he said loudly, his voice echoing throughout the metal halls of his ship. "We'd been there a couple times before. But this time, Sith agents heard about us and ran us out with blaster fire." Jyr'ast nodded slowly, turning back to his patient, before an idea stuck him. He looked over toward his partner and managed a telepathic message; these men are working for food and profit. If we push them, perhaps we can get them to join the Republic so they can fight the Sith back themselves.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra remained serene despite her surprise at Jyr'ast's mastery of the mando'a tongue. She had become used to maintaining an outward appearance of calm in situations like this. When the pirate gave them leave to assist in treating the injured, Nimarra reached to her utility belt and drew out a pair of bacta patches. She knew the healing arts as Jyr'ast did, but she still required bacta to support her. She tried not to feel frustration at her inexperience and instead focused on giving the soldiers the medical treatment they needed. She cut the patches, applying them carefully to the injuries on one particular soul. With that, she held her hands over his injuries. He stared up at her, his eyes wide and his face flush and pink. She could make out the heat in his chest and... elsewhere... that arose from her presence through her force sight.

She ignored it.

When Jyr'ast reached out to her, his telepathy was astoundingly articulate, she did not move her head an inch, seemingly focused on her patient. He was right, but it would have to be something attempted with the appropriate amount of care and patience. They have to be made to believe that it is their idea, and want to make the change from pirate to privateer. She pursed her lips, if the republic will even accept further help from the Jedi. It was beginning to grow obvious that the Republic was waning on its friendship with the Jedi Order. If further issues came up it would be impossible to control the situation. The angelic Miralukan's lips parted to speak, then shut again. Was it really necessary to have them sacrifice their freedom and join the Republic? She dismissed the thought, she and Jyr'ast had to be of one mind on this, and he was her senior.

"I have heard similar stories, Knight Jyr'ast, from a privateer crew out of Taris." Nimarra said, and rose to her feet moving to the next patient. "Though as they tell it, they tried to find work with the Sith, and were rebuffed violently." Nimarra added casually, checking this new wound for infection before applying a patch.

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

The plan he concocted was done so with hesitation. A better life for these people would require more secure access to food and supplies, and the Jedi had no need for privateers. But as the war between the Sith and the rest of existence has seemingly dragged on with no sign of stopping on the horizon, the Jedi's tenuous relationship with the Republic was beginning to wear thin. Believe as he may in his abilities as a negotiator, that may be a gap that mere words alone could not bridge. He knew however, just as Nimarra did, that the Republic was always in need of men and women willing to combat the Sith. While healing one of the more severe cases among the group, he contemplated his options carefully. The goal was for the pirates to leave the innocents alone, and restore order. Order, after all, is the natural enemy of the Sith; their power derives from chaos and bloodshed. But something within him also wished for these men to live just as the villagers had before they arrived to plunder them; free lives.

"This is true," he added, reaching for a small packet of bacta provided by the captain. "The Sith are not productive landowners, so it seems, nor are they cooperative hosts. They believe most sentients are beneath them, unworthy of equality." This was partially true; anyone could join the Sith, but only those whose craving for power outlasted the others would be granted true equality. The subjects of Sith rule, so he learned throughout his travels, were not so lucky. Food shortages and deaths from exhaustion were common under Sith controlled worlds, all in an effort to produce food to sustain the war machine. The captain nodded, none of this was news to him. "Doing this wasn't a first choice for us. Combat is in my blood, it always has been. That's just how we are. Mandalorians view combat as a way to better the self. That's what being mando'ade meant; being a verd, a warrior. But that's not what this is about. Everyone needs to eat, everyone needs water. That's what we do. They needed me to teach them how to survive, I needed them to help me get food. Right now, we're all we've got." The Mandalorians who find themselves in the far reaches of the galaxy, far from Mandalore, have particular words for the Sith. They're usually called demagolka or dinii; war criminals, lunatics, unless said Mandalorian sympathises with the Kyr'tsad, or Death Watch. Jyr'ast nodded. While he didn't necessarily agree with the Mandalorian philosophy, their dedication to betterment was something he could at the very least respect.

"I see," said the Kel Dor, his voice rasping through the rebreather. He'd already begun moving over to the third wounded man, with the one he'd previously been working on well on his way to recovery. All he needs is regular bacta treatment, of which the Captain has plenty to provide. All that remained was to give the man the three things he and his men needed; steady income, food, and a more productive enemy to fight. He relayed this basic thought to Nimarra with a brief telepathic message and a nod as he looked over toward her before proceeding to work on stabalizing the injured man beneath him. He's already realized that she may be more persuasive a personality in an environment like this than he would.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra rose to her feet after taking another moment to run her hand over the last man needing treatment's injury. It appeared that the bacta patch was secure and he would heal fine. She turned, resting her palms upon her own abdomen and strode toward the Mandalorian. She considered the Kel Dor's suggestion. How would she encourage this? It had been some time since she had tried to recruit anyone into anything. Most of her peacekeeping tasks had been destroying darksiders or encouraging a peaceful middleground. This was so very... different. Nimarra stepped alongside him and turned, appearing to look down at the injured men and women.

"Even if they make a full recovery, their injuries do not go only skin deep." She said in a quiet voice and reached out, touching his arm. "I have seen the effect fighting the weak has on the strong. It withers them, injures their fighting spirit." She was speaking of the sith, of course, the Dark side corrupted at such a deep level those who used it, those who killed so wantonly. "Warriors..." she said, gesturing to those laying on the ground. "...need a cause. Not just survival. If a man only survives, all he does is exist." She said, and returned her hand to her waist. The blind jedi let out a breath.

"I can arrange for safe passage core-ward, you can find work and live there, but will you be satisfied with that?" It was plain to her that if these men and women went to the core, they would be comfortable for a time, but they would soon find themselves anxious, seeking thrills and dangers like the ones they had felt before. They could turn once more to crime and piracy. Even so, it was best if the Mandalorian made the choice to bring his people into the fold.

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

The captain considered his options briefly. Nimarra's assumption was correct, in that their lust for combat would likely outstrip their essential desire for food and sustenance. Piracy is many things, but even those who steal only to stay alive will testify to the excitement it brings. Before he could openly discuss his stance on her suggestion, Jyr'ast quietly stood from his position next to the last wounded man and turned to him. His calm demeanor made him perfect for moments such as this, when delicate touches could mean the difference between a mission accomplished and a mission wasted. He nodded toward his partner, before turning his blackened gaze upon the captain. "The Sith demagolka and their allies have already attacked Mandalore, and it is likely they will try again at some point in the future. If you take her offer, they will give you your food and shelter, but they will also offer you an enduring test of the self. A fight against the Sith and their Sacred Band." Some of the men surrounding the ship sat up as the last two words were spoken. The myths of the Sacred Band and their cruelty, as well as their prowess, became widespread after the Brotherhood began claiming more and more territory. The thought visibly intrigued them.

The captain, placing both elbows upon his legs and leaning forward in his seat, quietly contemplated the suggestion. Jyr'ast looked at the men that surrounded them and made a few gestures with his hands. "The Sith bands plunder countless worlds for themselves. Their riches are immesurable. Their defeat would mean that their posessions, their relics and treasures, would default to those who had defeated them." Perhaps the thought of material loot would further incentivize a change in their way of life. Two of the men, one of whom being the formerly injured boy he'd just finished healing, began chattering about the idea. The captain remained stoically silent, before standing up and lifting his rifle into the air. He fired one bolt into the sky, gathering the attention of both his men and the Jedi immediately. Once he finished, he set the blaster back down on the ground and crossed his arms. "I can't go flying around the galaxy by myself. Without a crew, I don't eat. So, we either all go, or none of us do." His men nodded. As despicable as villagers find pirates, their bonds as second familes is admirable. Soon enough, the captain was gone, searching through the cargo hold of the ship for something to write on, and something to write with. Upon dispensing one piece to each member of his crew, he gave the following instructions. "Yes or no. It's that simple." The crew began to think to themselves, individually. It was a big choice, abandoning their ways, but the promise was enticing. Jyr'ast turned back toward Nimarra, wondering if she had anything to add before the final vote commenced.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra did not turn her head, but she felt the gaze of Jyr'ast on her. She knew that it would have been easy to add more and tilt the scales in favor of them joining the Republic. That was the easy path though. These individuals had been given all the information they needed to make an educated choice. They had been given the opportunity to do as they pleased and to choose for themselves. Any more input from her and it would be as if she were standing next to a voting booth on Coruscant, demanding that they vote as she saw fit. That is something she refused to take part in. Instead she smiled gently at the Mandalorian and stepped away. "I will give you and yours space to decide freely." She said to her fellow warrior, and bowed with respect.

The Paladin strode over to sit next to Jyr'ast. "It is up to them now, if they are to join the republic, let them have a taste of Democracy." Nimarra said serenely, she smiled blindly forward, the brown blindfold growing darker with perspiration. Above she could feel that there were other presences coming and going. Other operations across the world as the Jedi sought to liberate it from its Sith captors. She slid her armored hands into her lap, leaning her head forward and took a few breaths, deepening into a trance. She would meditate on their actions for a time, it felt good to solve a situation like this diplomatically rather than with strength of arms.

It was times like these, she thought, that reminded her of why the Jedi Council had discouraged her from joining the army. Nevertheless, the Dark Side was a threat that had to be extinguished, and if she could be of use in protecting the galaxy, she would be.

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

Upon seeing her come his way, the Kel Dor gave a respectful bow. It seemed to him a wise use of restraint, and a lesson well learned. While the men pondered their choices, with permission from the captain, Jyr'ast began re-filling various vials of bacta that had been stored in the cargo hold of the ship. One by one, the sheets of paper were folded over with their markings etched in, and placed on a pile in front of the captain. Upon turning to face the men, he could sense clearly that the captain's mind was more or less made up. He figured that an appeal to his nature as a warrior of Mandalore, and that planet's recent efforts in combatting a Sith frontal assault would at the very least sway him. But the other members of his crew, who were neither Mandalorian nor, as he assumed, men of honor as their captain was concerned him. Before the votes were cast, the various men that had been recalled to life through the intervention of the Jedi had brief arguments with their comrades. The Jedi, at least on Agamar, were seen with a neutral view; not entirely bad, nor a force of good either. But their efforts, to talk rather than coerce, appears to have had an effect on them.

After a few minutes of silence, the captain collected every scrap that had fallen on the cold stone floor and carefully looked them over. Every now and again, he blinked, making sure he'd read the notes correctly. In the meantime, Jyr'ast was busy helping to organize the medical supplies in their ship, and also using the time to search for what the pirates may have taken in their last raid. He could see the outlines of various food boxes, jars containing liquids of unknown origins, and a small container full of what he could only assume to be valuable property taken from villagers. He made a mental note of that, hoping to return to said village after they had finished here in order to help re-establish lines of trust with the villagers. As the counting ceased, the captain stood from his seat and cleared his throat, indicating that the choice had been made. Stuffing the papers into a small pocket in his jacket, he put his hand on his jaw, watching the Kel Dor exit his ship with a curious eye. Jyr'ast hadn't taken the valuables back, at least not yet. To do so now would be a blatant abuse of trust, and may undo everything they'd done up to that point.

The Mandalorian turned to Nimarra, who had offered him the safe passage earlier. "Get us to Mandalore, and we'll fight with them as long as they can feed us." The answer wasn't definitive. It was clear that the man had no intention of becoming an officer in an Army, or turning his men into soldiers. But with the Republic, it wasn't necessary. If given the designation of agents, they could work as both smugglers and freelancers, paid by the Republic to disrupt the Sith's imperial expansion. "You needn't be soldiers there full time, if you don't want to be. The Republic, especially those on Mandalore have a large demand for good smugglers." That comment only seemed to embolden the captain and his men. They all stood, the injured with the help of their comrades, and nodded. Jyr'ast turned to his partner, and nodded happily, both eyebrows raised in surprised. He couldn't show a smile, given the obstruction of his rebreather, but had he the power to he would have. "If you could begin preperations for their safe passage to Mandalore, I believe we should be almost done." There was still the issue of the stolen valuables lodged in the cargo hold, which he would hope to return in due time. But for now, at least until Nimarra had instructed the crew on what their next move would be, he would let it go for now.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

The paladin tilted her head toward Jyr'ast, they had worked well together it seemed. Though she could not show emotion with her eyes, she did have lips to smile. She let the smile linger on her Jedi companion for just a moment longer before the Mandalorian offered his services. That was all she needed to hear, she rose to her feet and slipped a holocommunicator from her belt. She ran her fingers over it, using the force to augment her sense of sight and touch until she could make out the different functions of the device's buttons by sensation alone. After a moment the device sprung to life, and a sphere of light flickered over it. Though she could not see the hologram that was taking shape, the person on the other end could see her. The form of Captain Gessin of the Tymar saluted her before clearing his throat.

"Hello Captain Gessin. I have good news." Nimarra said, "We will need a shuttle to transport a crew of new hires and their ship to the Tymar before transit to Mandalore." There was a pause, to the rest of the world the Captain was stroking his chin before he turned to an officer to his right. He nodded a few times.

"Thank you Paladin, there is a repair shuttle that is in the area that can assist you. Does that conclude that mission?" Nimarra remained serene despite the tension in her stomach from being called by that bloodsoaked title. She simply inclined her head.

"We have a few final details to cover, please inform the crew of the repair shuttle that there are a few injured among the company that will be riding with them." Nimarra added, her non-directional gaze falling on the men laying on the ground behind her.

"I'll take care of it. Thank you Paladin." Nimarra bowed again and cut the connection. She turned to Jyr'ast.

"Our friends have transport out of the system." Nimarra said, and bowed to Jyr'ast. "Thank you for permitting me to come with you on this mission, it feels quite good to do peace work for a change." She said with a dazzling smile.

@Dakota

 

[Dakota]

As Nimarra and Captain Gessin began finishing up, the crew began preparing their injured for transport on the upcoming vessel. They'd agreed beforehand that the captain would take the able-bodied men on his ship and follow behind the repair shuttle across the hyperways to Mandalore, which seemed the safest option for all involved. But as the Mandalorian began getting everything ready, the Kel Dor met him half way and walked at his side to the docking area of the ship. "There is still one matter I'd like to address before you leave," he said, motioning with one hand toward the cargo hold. The captain raised an eyebrow, but their work in healing his men had at the very least earned his momentary respect. "As I was refilling the bacta vials in your ship, I noticed a crate of valuables I assume were stolen from villagers. I will guess that you meant to sell them, but with your change in circumstances, I would like to humbly request that we return these to their true owners."

He'd already noted that the captain didn't want to wish harm on his victims. These items would fetch a pretty penny on the black market, especially in space not controlled by the Sith. That money would likely be filtered back to the crew in the form of payments for food, fuel and weapons. But with the repair vessel already on its way to their location to help ferry them to Mandalore, the theft seems to him at least superfulous. The captain hesitantly agreed, but only after the Kel Dor gave him a few portions of his own food as a means of persuasion. "Fine, Jedi." He nodded, and turned away from them as not to trouble the crew further. Following Nimarra's request to Captain Gessin, the repair ship came to land slowly on the plateau. Gessin emerged shortly after, instructing the two men he'd brought with him to load the wounded onto the ship. "Captain Gessin. These men have been healed to the best of our ability, but still require more intensive treatment." The captain nodded, bringing them back into the ship. The loading ramp slowly lifted up and closed, with a loud hissing noise.

Turning back to the Mandalorian, the Jedi walked over to his ship one last time, removing the crate of valuables so that they could be redistributed to those that they had been stolen from. "We will wait here until you leave, and have Captain Gessin inform us of your safe passage to Mandalore." The old man nodded, as did his crew. Jyr'ast could only give them a curteous bow, pressing his leathery hands together. As quickly as they came, the reformed "pirates" fell in line into their large ship. The old captain, with the coordinates readily placed into his computer, only needed to wait for his comrades to get inside safely. Gessin's repair vessel took off first, followed by the bulky pirate ship. The pair slowly drifted up into Agamar's atmosphere, before disappearing in the blink of an eye. "You needn't thank me. All this violence demands kindness every now and again to balance the scales of the Force."

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

Nimarra nodded serenely, a smile crossing her lips as she turned to regard the departing vessel. The boxes of stolen goods would have to be sorted through and claimed by those that lost them. Fortunately that would not take very long as most of this was from a single location. She walked past the boxes of goods to stand in the sunlight. It beat down on her skin and she felt a distinct sense of relaxation wash over her. This was the work that a Jedi should be doing, the acts of violence she had been sent to take part in were not what she had chosen. Yet, the mandate that the Council had laid upon her shoulders weighed heavy, she turned to look back at her new friend and cave a sad smile.

"How much kindness will I have to give, before I too am balanced?" She asked before gesturing to the boxes. They would be aiding the locals in organizing these for the next few hours. "We should get started, there is still much for us to do." She tapped her comm and opened a channel to the operations center back on the cruiser they had arrived on.

"This is Jedi Knight Nimarra Skai with Jedi Knight Jyr'ast. Mission complete."

@Dakota