3-16 WHEREHOUSE

“I… I think we should continue,” you finally say.

Master Lasah tilts her head, gesturing for you to go on. “Why so?”

“Like you said, we don’t have much else to do. Now, it’s CorSec’s responsibility. However, it would be good to show our support for them. We can follow behind them, letting them take lead, and help them when needed. With our Sight, we can give them a lot of good information.”

“Very good.” Master Lasah pats you on the shoulder, her hand brushing against the side of your mask. “Understanding when you can and should hand off responsibility is a skill, and one that I believe you are learning well. Pushing ahead without understanding — essentially making things up as you go — can lead to many mistakes. This is why you bring in subject matter experts whenever possible. We are Jedi. We have many hats to wear, becoming administrators, peacekeepers, diplomats, warriors, and more when necessary. However, to know when you do not have the skill or the knowledge is to be humble. To be humble is to follow the ways of the Jedi.”

She gives you another pat before moving off, heading toward the CorSec officers. You follow close behind, eager to see what comes next.

As the two of you approach, one of the officers steps forward — a human this time. She wears a slightly fancier uniform with sharper edges and heavier shoulder guards. She greets Master Lasah, who bows in return.

“Master Jedi.”

“Captain Sparo. We have an offer for you.”

“Really now? Let’s hear it,” she says, her tone halfway cynical, halfway cheerful.

You look up into her, wondering what’s with her attitude. It seems she does indeed appreciate the help of the Jedi at times, but has been somewhat annoyed by the intercession of the Temple in what she had initially deemed CorSec business. It was only her respect for your Order that has kept her from becoming more disgruntled.

Now that you and Master Lasah have gotten what you’ve come for, she should be much happier as you get out of her way. Happier still when offered your services.

And, indeed she is.

Master Lasah informs her of what you have found regarding the cartel. While she frowns at the mention of the warehouse, she is still internally overjoyed at having a good portion of her work done for her. After all, at some point, she would have had to deal with this herself, and by then it likely would have been much worse. Now, she has a one and a quarter Jedi to help her, as well as two significant leads — one toward the warehouse, and one toward the Coruscant Highline Bank.

“Well, now,” she says once Master Lasah has given her the story. “Seems like you’re twisting my arm here! I’m happy to be an attack dog when I get my treats, though.”

Master Lasah frowns, too mature to be flustered by what you’re half-sure of is simple teasing. “I assure you, we do not presume—”

“Joking. Just joking. But, we do have to follow protocol. We can’t just assault a building because we heard people were carrying narcotics into it. We need more evidence.”

“You can’t just take our word for it,” Master Lasah says, nodding in understanding.

“Exactly.”

“But…?”

The captain smiles as she puts her hands on her hips. “Easy enough to get some. I can send some of my lads to take a look, and you two just help ‘em out. We go in all sneaky-like, and we get no trouble; only information. Once we have it, and hopefully it’s some solid evidence, we book ‘em.”

“That is agreeable to me.”

“How ‘bout you kid? Sounds good? Wait, you are a kid, right?”

Captain Sparo leans down, eyeing you dead-center of the mask. You give a small nod, saying, “Yes, ma’am.”

She pulls back, laughing hard. “Ha! ‘Ma’am!’ How old is she? Can I keep ‘er?”

“No, you—” Master Lasah suddenly cuts off, turning to look at you. You look back, nervous at the schemes building up within her whirling mind.

“Uh, Master?”

“I’m joking again!” the captain says, still laughing. She spins, gesturing at the other CorSec officers around her. “I ain’t got time to care for another kid. Just look at all the children I already have to take care of!”

A chorus of boos and good-natured chuckles meets her statement and you sigh in relief as Master Lasah’s devious plans die before they leave her lips.

“Ah, well. It may have been a good experience for you, Xena. It is always good to take learning opportunities when they present themselves.”

“Uh, I’ll just keep this in mind.”

“You do that!” says the captain. She turns on her heel, pointing to a group of four other officers. “Eggl, Robin, Bendak, Tressk. You four go check out that warehouse with the Jedi.”

She spins back around, turning toward Master Lasah. “You’re sure you don’t want to lead this?”

“We will leave it to the experts.”

Captain Sparo nods, satisfaction behind her now stony face. “Wonderful. Alrighty, Bendak, you’re in charge of this operation. You know what to do.”

As the CorSec officers gather up their gear, making ready for the investigation, Master Lasah likewise performs her own preparation. Where many other Jedi would calm their minds via meditation, Master Lasah instead stirs up her own, doing some sort of planning as she scans her holographic map once again.

You, on the other hand, don’t really have much to do. You don’t have any kinds of rituals to do.

…Right?

You look down at your hip, then pull out your saber. You don’t dare ignite it here, but you calm yourself with the feeling of its reassuring weight in your hand. It may not have been useful in your first violent engagement ever, but you know it may soon become necessary for you to wield it in defense.

You roll your saber in your hand, feeling the ridges through your thin gloves. The little skulls grin, flashing their eyes at the nearby officers.

What are you supposed to do? You could meditate, but it just doesn’t feel right at the moment. You could plan, but unlike Master Lasah, you have no map.

You suppose you could pray. Who to, though?

Pius Dea?

You aren’t very familiar with the Goddess, and it just doesn’t feel right either.

The God-Emperor, perhaps. But, how does one pray to a corpse seen only in your dreams? You close your eyes. Might as well do your best.

Please… um, Mister God-Emperor. Uh… let this go smoothly? Don’t let anyone get injured, at least not too badly that we can’t patch them up. Er, have a good day now.

Nobody responds. Well, you suppose you didn’t really expect much. Such a halfhearted orison wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention, let alone Him on Terra.

You spend the next half hour standing around thinking, unsure of what else to do. You reflect on the past two days, still trying to understand how exactly Justinia Ryker died. The droid is definitely the clue, given that Master Lasah seemed so sure of her own theories after her last questions to Doctor Neen.

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Did it kill her? Maybe, but she was found collapsed in the middle of the intersection. There is no way it murdered her and then threw her out there with no one seeing. And, there still is no evidence as to how she died besides the symptoms of her allergic reaction. Maybe she truly did die of such a reaction, but how did she come across oranges?

The other clue. The bank. Oranges at the bank. Vials at the bank. The oranges got there somehow, and the vials came back. Once you understand how the oranges got there and why they were disposed of uneaten, you might have a better idea.

You glance at the CorSec officers, but they still seem busy. Master Lasah is likewise still staring at her map, laser focused on routes in and out, planning for the worst of cases.

How… how are you doing?

Master Lasah indeed gave you more responsibility, but you still haven’t come up with the solution to the case. Does that mean you’re failing?

But, she has been praising you, and you certainly have pulled your weight at times. So, perhaps what you’ve done is good enough?

Is this even what you want to be doing?

The alternative was to stay at the Temple, helping out Master Corr — a guaranteed to be worthwhile endeavor. Relieving the suffering of others is always good. Yet, being out here is also nice. The Temple is still covered in a cloud of grief which you doubt will dissipate for a long while. So many Jedi dead, and the Galaxy is now at war. How… typical. A return to the status quo, upset for so long by do-gooders everywhere. The peace is shattered; though it certainly was nice while it lasted.

Those clones too… Something greatly disturbs you about them. It’s not them that is the problem — not the people themselves — but the existence of replicae that worries you. Your instincts scream that something is wrong, but you just don’t know what can be done about it!

Questions hang over them. Why do they even exist? Who benefits from this besides the obvious? However, you have no answers, not until you investigate it properly.

Hmm. Investigation…

You have no power at the moment, and you still know so little about intrigue and investigation. Sticking with Master Lasah may really help with this.

Do you really want to keep pushing though? Does it really matter, other than to silence the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind?

Questions for another time, for the CorSec officers finally march over to Master Lasah to inform her of their status. She beckons you over and soon all six of you are on your way.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

The industrial sector is a network of various hubs, each one hosting manufactorums that stretch from the “ground floor” — i.e. the lowest part of Coruscant’s upper layer — high up through the layers of smog above. Throughout the quadrant are massive pillars, holding up millions, or possibly billions, of tons of material above the heads of the menials laboring here.

This area is not small. Not at all.

Much open space is needed here to transport raw material in and out. Some of the manufactories build droids. Some put together consumables. All, however, produce some sort of good that is moved in and out via the loading docks just next door.

You’re not entirely sure why these two areas are separated considering how closely linked they are. Perhaps the loading docks are just meant for some of the items used or made here. There must be several around purely built for this quadrant.

You follow the CorSec officers as they patrol through the sector. This isn’t the first time they’ve been here, but it is so big and dense that it’s no wonder why they could have missed the cartel’s warehouse. It is, however, a boon that the officers are recognizable to the resident laborers here. There are yet to be hostilities, and from the sweeps you do through the minds and psyches of the people around, you have yet to see any really negative reactions. Mostly, you see indifference. Sometimes agitation, but when you look closer, it’s typically nothing to do with why you’re here.

The officers do not hurry, nor do they tarry. They simply stride along, seemingly on an aimless patrol. However, the paths you follow, no matter how winding, are somehow still taking you toward your goal.

They really do seem to know what they’re doing. Perhaps you should take notes?

Despite the apparent lack of hurry, you’re soon approaching the objective, and now the officers begin to put on their professional faces. They look around, ensuring that nobody is near to see you all, then move off into a gap between a two-story tall mobile crane and an office-like structure.

One of the officers launches a small spy droid — spherical thing almost like the droids used for bolt-blocking practice. It flies off toward the warehouse while the leader, Bendak, turns to Master Lasah and speaks in a hushed voice. “Er, Master Jedi? I believe it is your turn, yes?”

“Indeed,” Master Lasah intones with a nod. “Xena? You sweep from west to east. Report on anything you find. I will do the same.”

“Yes, Master.”

Time to get to work.

“I see… some people. Um, the warehouse is broken into four sections. West-most section has two people. Next section has one,” you report.

Master Lasah likewise reports on the side of the warehouse she started with. Another ten people, all of which are in the east-most section. She goes on to describe the “terrain.” High ceilings, nearly ten stories tall, accommodating thousands of interior containers. Hovering droids float throughout the rooms, carrying items up and down, wherever needed. The warehouse is nicely organized though, so it’s easy enough to understand the layout — simply a series of aisles, six per section.

“Hmm, I believe I have found our friends from before,” Master Lasah remarks. “Ah, and the vials too. Opposite side of the warehouse from us; that is, far on the southside. Eastmost section. Xena, do you see it?”

“...I think so. Ground floor?”

“Yes, that is them.”

“Master, I can try reading their minds.”

“Your telepathy? Hmm. Go ahead, but be careful not to alert them to our presence.”

…

Kett can barely breathe, so caught up in laughter that he is. He falls to the floor, struggling for breath, shaking.

His stomach hurts! This might even be the first time he’ll piss himself from the hilarity!

He’s not the only one incapacitated either. Andrez and Purnell are both downed too, convulsing like him. The others have only slightly better self-possession, still standing but also caught up in Arnot’s story of idiocy.

The only one not enjoying himself is obviously Arnot himself, constantly repeating, “It’s not that funny!”

It’s minutes before Kett can stand back up, using the edge of the nearby crate of drudnée as a support. He suddenly feels a sharp pain, then clicks his tongue when he sees a splinter in his hand.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to the others. “Gotta use the ‘fresher.”

…

Arnot sits in shamed silence, still waiting for everyone to stop pointing and laughing at him. How was he supposed to know Tei was already married? How was he supposed to know she had one hell of a nasty sense of humor?

He shifts in his seat, still extremely uncomfortable down there. He’s never doing that again.

…

Purnell is still on the floor, hoping that the world will stop spinning. He’d done far too much last night, then had to get up much too early. Now, his migraine just won’t end, and laughing for fifteen minutes straight has really taken it out of him.

Some water would be very nice right now.

Purnell turns to the side and heaves quietly, spewing out the remains of his breakfast. He then sighs and rolls over, feeling much better. Now, if only they would all stop laughing, he could get some rest.

…

Adleta tilts over backwards, then collapses much like Purnell. Unlike him, however, she’s still laughing. Arnot at the moment is making a high pitched keening noise, staring at his newly discolored boots in horror.

Her humor is only helped by the drudnée which is really kicking in now. The world spins around her and she can only exhale in delight. Oh the wonder! The lights and laughter!

And the look on Arnot’s face! How would it change if she puked on his boots as well?

…

You break away, blinking blindly behind your mask. That was… odd. Was that it? The drug at work on that woman?

Master Lasah looks at you expectantly, so you give your report. “They’re distracted right now. One of them left for the ‘fresher, but he’ll be back soon. The others are either drugged or too busy making fun of each other to pay attention to anything. Actually, one of them was Arnot — the friend of Ioaniis Tlin. He’s the one the others were making fun of.”

“They’re drugged?” Bendak asks.

He towers above you, his armor scraping against the wall as he leans over. “Yeah. They have the crates of vials we saw earlier, and it looks like they’ve been using some of it. One of them, a woman named Adleta, was feeling dizzy because of the drugs. She was… euphoric. Happy. She called the drug, ‘drudnée.’”

He looks to the others who nod at him in return. Turning back to you, he smiles. “Seems to confirm what the droid sees. Haven’t heard of this ‘drudnée’ before, but this is good enough evidence for me. Do you think we could take them all in right now? You said they were distracted, right?”

“Yeah. they’re distracted. And, um, I didn’t see any with weapons. Nothing obvious, at least.”

“No,” Master Lasah cuts in. “They do have some. Six of the thirteen have blasters on them, though five others have knives. There are plenty of blunt instruments laying around though, which they could wield if alerted. All the weapons are concealed, so you may not have known what to look for, Xena.”

You nod as officer Bendak takes notes. He asks for clarification of the positions of the armed members. All three on the western half of the warehouse have blasters, while the other ten in the eastmost section have the mixed arrangement of weapons. Checking again, you see that Kett, the one with the splinter, has returned and is once again chatting with the others.

“Alrighty, Master Jedi — and little Jedi — you got a plan? Otherwise, I’ll think of something. Might want to back out and call in backup, but it does also seem like we could take ‘em if we’re super duper careful. Whaddya think?”