You manage to find yourselves in a rather neglected part of the station, near the vicinity of deep storage bay V14. Many of the lights have been burned out, and blaster marks and carbon scoring mar the walls, ceiling and floor. The area reeks of ozone and electrical fires, and pools of coolant litter the hallways at regular intervals. After winding your way through a near-labyrinth of decrepit corridors, you eventually reach the entrance to the bay of V14, which is guarded by a pair of Gamorreans wielding vibro-axes. They don't seem to have noticed you yet.

Jarin couldn't shake the feeling of unreality. Was he really working with three Jedi? And now they were asking him to conduct investigations? Weren't Jedi supposed to be trained in this sort of work?

They were young, though, perhaps even younger than himself. Padawans? Whose masters had been killed in the Purge? That might explain how they escaped notice...

Jarin took a deep breath and strode forward. "Do you see?" he says to the others, theatrically. "Everything is safe and sound. These guards have done an excellent job! Excuse us, please, gentlemen," he says, moving to enter the bay.


Jarin Regaelo

Schlon quickly straightens to his full height and follows Jarin down the hallway. He remarks in a steady cadence. "Yes, these guards are obviously adequate for this entrance. Still, we must be certain that the interior is also secure."

Persuasion:

The Gamorreans puff out their chests in pride and don't say anything as they let you pass into the storage bay, seemingly convinced that you must somehow belong there.

The deep storage bay is as run-down as the hallways leading up to it, with entire metal plates missing from the floor and a huge, open exhaust shaft near the back of the room. Large crates litter the area, creating the appearance of a haphazard mess, and the air has a distinct smell of sweat and fumes that makes the entire area unpleasant. Flickering lights provide modest illumination, and a burst pipe along the ceiling leaks blue fluid down one wall.

Near the center of the room is an item that seems very out of place - a large, finely crafted desk made of Japor ivory wood, which means the desk is both priceless and rare. Sitting peacefully behind the desk is a protocol droid with shiny, ebony coverings that seem to soak up the light and offer only the slightest reflection. The droid's eyes flicker slightly, as though imitating a person blinking rapidly.

Next to him, a blue-and-red astromech droid beeps and burbles quietly, seemingly lost in its own world.

Droids.... Are these Maya's contacts? Or are they cargo?

Not knowing how this situation might proceed, Schlon maintains as regal a presence as he can to maintain the pretense that got them through the door. He casts his senses wide to try and determine what unseen threats may be lurking in the chaotic storage bay.



EDIT: Oops. Her name's Maya...

Schlon notices that a rather tough-looking Twi'lek is standing quietly off to the side, near the droid's desk.



"Greetings... humanoids!" says the droid, rather cheerfully. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Jarin listens carefully to the astromech's mutterings. Sometimes they let slip important information when they don't realize that a biological being can understand them.



"You must be Switch?" Jarin says to the protocol droid. "We're here to pick up some cargo for a woman named Maya."


Jarin Regaelo

Jarin realizes that the astromech is simply running through a list of numbers - likely it is doing some kind of book-keeping.

"I am!" says Switch, cheerily. "May I offer you something to drink? I have some Corellian brandy if you would enjoy that? I am a firm believer that negotiations should only proceed when all parties are adequately made comfortable - wouldn't you agree?"

"Normally," the bureaucrat replies, "I would. But I'm afraid we're on an extremely tight schedule. We'll be most comfortable completing the transaction quickly. Our apologies."


Jarin Regaelo

"Right to business," says Switch, with a tone that might have indicated he was smiling - if he wasn't a droid. "I like that. Very well then - the cargo will be handed over to you once the payment of 1000 credits have been made."

Schlon hums a reverberation deep in his throats, briefly giving away his surprise and consternation. He would be willing to contribute his meager funds, but they would barely cover 10% of the requested amount.

Raena, who until this point had been silent, said, "I've barely got more than two hundred creds on me. If one of you Jedi have a nifty mind trick to get us out of this..?" She trailed off, her tone indicating that she didn't put much hope in that prospect.

"Droids can be difficult to influence through the force without specialized training," Schlon responds. "Also, there are many guards in here. We are in a bit of a lion's den. Even if we fool our host, his companions may see through the trick."

"I have just over a hundred credits, but I suggest we request to see the merchandise before we make an exchange."

"I'm afraid I have virtually no cash on hand," Jarin reports. "I agree we should at least see what we're buying before handing anything over. I'm certain we can get reimbursement for the fee."

Jarin turns to Switch. "Can we see the merchandise first? We need to make sure it's in good condition."


Jarin Regaelo

Not for the first time, Schlon is grateful for the diplomat's willingness. It was blind chance that led the man into this mess, and he shouldered it admirably. If I had been less rash, perhaps these good beings would have carried on their way and remained uninvolved in this mess.

And then he thought, Was it blind chance? Or the will of the force? I must ponder this during my next meditation. Mayhaps there are greater deeds the Universe has in store for he and for the rest of us.

At the very least, the Ithorian resolved to thank Jarin profusely when they had a free moment.