Open A Haven for the Wayward: Spice Girls

[Drastus Drahr]

SPICE TERMINUS, P-18
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Drast had a deep seated disdain for spice, not as a healing supplement, but as a narcotic. He had seen hundreds of peoples lives ruined or destroyed by the addictive substance and back on Corellia, he had little choice but to work for an arm of the Pykes. This was practically a holy crusade for the young man. Clad in his armor, and equipped with his Preef Callo blaster, beskad, and lightsaber, he was feeling pretty sporty. Not to mention, three people was far more comfortable on Max's ship than four. Though, he couldn't help but hope Carlyn was adjusting well without Max and Drastus to help her out. For this op, however, Drast was tagging along with Padawan Rishe, a young woman he hadn't met yet.

Most of the flight, he would keep conversation to whatever she was comfortable with, not wanting to draw on her nerves. Max, however, would be able to feel the tinge of exhaustion pulling at the young mans body. It had been no secret that he had been burning at both ends for his injured friends and the Order. It was unclear if it was just a chip that he felt he needed to carry, or something more.

"Alright, Master, so what are the rules of engagement for this op? Standard don't fire unless fired upon? Or.. is this secretly some enemy stronghold and I miraculously dressed for the right occasion?" He'd look over to Buddy, a droid he thought he was starting to understand more, unless he was just slowly drifting into madness, which was always a possibility. "Buddy, you're looking sporty, Pal. Max give you some upgrades?"

@Nefieslab @Stick

 

[Maxims Tionson]

Max focused on flying the ship for the moment, their current crew of people enough that they all had some space rather than being pressed up against one another like sardines in a tin can. Buddy beeped a little bit at Max as he routed the docking permissions to Max so he could accept and make a heading for the hanger he was cleared to dock in. As he did so, he ran his half-flesh hand through his hair as he kept the ship steady with his robotic left arm.

“Well Drast, it looks like it might be a bit of both.” He admitted at length with a tired sigh, having come straight to this mission from yet another sleepless night doing political research and busywork, “Spice Terminus is in a weird place; a lot of the business that goes on here supplies medical spice-based products to half the Galaxy. However, a lot more refine the spice into the narcotic street drug side of things.”

He gestured absently at the space around them.

“Which isn’t illegal here because very little IS illegal here – this is so far from even the Outer Rim that laws are seen more as polite suggestions here. Freely ignored whenever someone wants.” He grumbled, “That said, we’re here to speak to a legitimate company here who shares the station with a drug operation… they’re ready to make a move against the gang here so they can use the supply of spice for their own bottom line. We’re here because they’re open to the idea of letting some areas of the station work as a hospital again rather than a drug lab.”

Sometimes that was the mission though, where even the people they were supporting weren’t the ‘good’ guys so much as they were the better option. The medical company that produced the medical painkillers from spice aboard the station weren’t evil – they were just a company. They existed to make credits and they were not above getting their hands dirty to make more.

That they were doing the ‘right’ thing was a by-product but Max wasn’t above taking advantage of that himself, even if it did make him feel like a political animal rather than a Jedi.

“So we meet up with the medical company’s people and we go from there; they say they have some security droids that might be useful too.”

@Rhogar @Stick

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe had no initial complaints with the mission, and she was fond of Master Tionson, even if all of his missions had some political objective or another.

Well, it made sense. He was a politician. The Jedi Politician. And even in a mission where they were ousting a gang, there was politics involved. Helping the (probably just as seedy) medical corporation push out their rivals, knowing that even if they were vanquishing something 'illegal' and 'evil', it was only at the whims of another evil.

Rishe was quiet and politely responsive to Drastus' smalltalk. His own fatigue was mirrored on the older padawan even if she made attempts at disguising it, her abilities spread thin between the Ossus restoration and the various objectives with the Haven stations. She rarely slept well usually, but someone had to do things, and make sure they were done right. She could admit how arrogant it sounded coming from a Padawan, but thankfully, her direct thoughts were usually safe.

The other padawan asked Tionson a question, and was talking with the droid amicably. She never understood that - she couldn't feel a Droid in the Force, know that they were actually living, breathing, thinking creatures. How could you connect with something that had no presence like that, or even care? They were machines. Yet, the comment was enough for her to ask something she'd been meaning to for the trip. "If we're speaking of dressing for the occasion... how does a Padawan even get all of that, Drastus?" Rishe says, motioning with a circling finger to indicate his entire getup, armor, blaster, and all. "You look like an Honest-to-the-Force bounty hunter." Regardless of the reason, when blasters were fired, she'd be keeping behind Drastus. She only had Jedi robes, after all.

As Tionson explained their mission, Rishe listened, turning her attention away from the datapad on her lap. As he finished, she raised one of her hands at the elbow, a modest sign to ask a question. "Master Tionson, if the legitimate and the illegitimate business are so closely tied, why don't we clear out the gang, and then clear out the company afterwards?" She suggests, "With how the virus is spreading, maybe we could see the station used entirely as a hospital for the area, and we would only have to sacrifice... psychotherapy drugs, cigarra additives, and some painkillers."

She motioned to her datapad as she said this. Rishe often did some research before a Jedi mission. Political backgrounds, planet histories, anything that might be relevant and helpful. Of course, the padawan was also more merciless in her approach. She valued diplomacy, sure, but she knew better than to trust these kinds of groups when they worked with the Order. Especially here in the outer rim, a Jedi's good will and cooperation seems a very easy thing to abuse.

@Nefieslab @Rhogar

 

[Drastus Drahr]

Drast would nod in understanding as Max spoke. "Gotcha, seedy company in exchange for gang." This was going to be half political-half bar room brawl and Drast wanted to be prepared. This was shaping up to be a potentially fun mission, although he couldn't wait to see how Max juggled the politics with the combat.

When Rishe spoke up, he'd look her way and offer a smile. "Well, uh.. I'm Mandalorian." that was the truth of it. "I forged this to honor my forefathers. It's pretty much duraplast. It doubles as protection for a heavy fight or... a disguise if I need to go somewhere Jedi aren't exactly wanted. People seldom expect a Mandalorian to be a Jedi. The blaster I found off of a Preef Callo look-alike."

After her idea for the op, Drastus would speak up. "Master, it's.. a good plan. The medical company can always find some way to get relocation costs, they won't even feel a hit like this. This station would be better suited serving those it could actually help, not housing those looking only to line their pockets."

@Nefieslab @Stick

 

[Maxims Tionson]

As bad as it was to support the shady medical company, Max was still happier to see them in control of the station than the criminal gang. Did he agree with medical corporations making profit off of healing? Not at all. But the alternative was far worse so he would see them remain the controllers of the station for so long as they provided good quality products to those who would actually do the healing.

Rishe had a point about pushing the company out and Drastus backed her up on it as well – he could sympathize, he really could. He wanted the station to be used entirely for it’s intended purpose as well but there was some practicalities that needed to be observed.

“I’m with you on that one kids.” He admitted as he pulled the ship into the hanger, “But we have to be practical about it; Spice Terminus is the back-end of beyond as far as known space is concerned and both the Syndicates and the Sith own the routes back to the Galactic centre from here. We need locals to be able to keep this place secure and the medical corp has its own droid security forces and no reason to want anyone else to edge into their territory.”

He began locking down the ship and made sure he had both his lightsaber and his stun baton as he made his way to the rear of the ship.

“The corp keeps half the station as an active hospital because it’s an easy market to sell to – and the rest of the Galaxy doesn’t need to pay bribe to Sith and Syndicate or run blockades every time they want to get some use out of it.” He explained before frowning, “If they push it too far? We’ll push them out later, when we have someone else in place to watch over it all.”

Stepping out into the hanger space, Max was glad they’d had the conversation back on the ship as it was clear that they were expected. A grouping of over a dozen battle-droids of different makes were waiting for them with a rather large Zabrak waiting for them.

“Jedi?” he called out to them, “Jedi Max, Rishe and Drastus?”

Well he was happy that they remembered the Padawans – too often people neglected to mention them and it always annoyed him. Remembering their names didn’t change the fact that they were prepared for a fight.

“I’m Max.”

The Zabrak held his hand out and Max shook briefly.

“Omic Itec, head of security here. I’ve been told to answer any questions you have about the attack – myself, my team and my droids are at your service.”

Max turned to the Padawans and raised an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Teaching moment guys… ask the right questions and start drawing up a battle-plan.”

@Stick @Rhogar

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe was akin to an artist's friend. She could see that skill and effort went into the armor's creation, and she could tell good craftsmanship apart from the bad, even if the intricacies were lost on her. Her eyebrows shot up, and she studied the armor with a new kind appreciation, "I'd be shocked if they weren't honored. Good, custom-made armor, and carrying on Vizsla's legacy all in one."

Vizsla was a shared character between the Mandalorians and the Order - if one that caused a lot of later strife between the two. But, it would be better for her to keep the references to those that inspired unity. The first Mandalorian who had joined the Order, bridging generations of conflict. A figure to aspire to, in many ways.

Max's explanation satisfied the padawan, especially at the mention of keeping an eye on the medical company. It was reassuring that the Jedi wouldn't blindly trust the motivations of others, especially if she knew that their retribution would be swift on the company if it did anything heinous. "That is reasonable, Master." She admitted.

She was lightly equipped compared to the others, robes and clothes instead of armor, a single lightsaber and datapad hidden on her person instead of stun weaponry and blasters. Of course, they'd have the most motley bunch of battle droids to assist them, but she knew nothing about any of them, other than the fact one of them looked like a B2.

Tionson's usual teaching style made itself apparent, he was letting the Padawans take the lead. Nothing like learning by doing. So, she cleared her throat, bowed towards the zabrak, and said, "A pleasure, Mister Itec. I think to start off, maybe we should discuss bribing them out, or making sure they can't destroy the station out of spite if we do fight. I've recently found that criminals realize they can't win against the Jedi, but instead of folding their hand, they decide to flip the proverbial Pazaak table. Often with explosives."

She looked over to Drast, "Though, I'm sure Padawan Drastus would have a better idea for actual tactics and strategy." She may very well be deferring those things to her fellow padawan because of her recent knowledge of his heritage. She'd only met one Mandalorian, but he didn't live up to the genius warrior stereotype she'd often heard, so she wanted to see what kind of plan Drast would come up with.

Because of course the gangs wouldn't take a bribe. If the Jedi were being called down at this point, the company might have already tried and failed. She still had to try to maintain appearances.

@Rhogar @Nefieslab