THE NEW DEALS
A PART-TIME GAMER MODULE
OVERVIEW
This adventure is the sequel to “Thanks for Shopping”, and picks up just after the PCs and the Revanant make the jump to lightspeed. In this story, the PCs will have to find a new supplier for the newly founded local Rebel base. In addition, they will become further acquainted with the pilot of the Revanant, who will become a fixture in the PCs' lives, at least until he is reassigned or (hopefully not) killed. The Players will have to talk their way through encounters, learning vital RPG skills which will serve them well in future adventures.
INTRODUCTION
Depending on their actions in the previous adventure, the Players may have captured and commandeered up to four Y-Wing single-seat fighters. If they didn't, they are aboard the Revenant, a Sentinel-class dropship. Either way, the story starts with a conversation between the PCs and Flight Officer Max Syde, the pilot of the Revanant. If the PCs are in their own fighters, Winder reaches them over the comms unit. If they are riding in the passenger bay, Winder steps out of the cockpit to stretch, and strikes up a conversation.
“Holy Force, I didn't think we were gonna get out of that one. That was pretty hairy, eh?”
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“What happened back there, anyway? One second, I'm reading the flight manual for this hunk of metal, waiting for the shipment to be loaded, and the next second, you guys are shooting it out with half the Imperial Army!”
If the Players tell something reasonably close to the truth: (If they blow smoke, improvise)
“****. I knew ISB was starting to get a whiff of us, but this is getting too close. And Hadgi was our only munitions supplier in the system. I don't like the way this is going.”
If the Players ask who he is:
“Flight Officer Max Syde, callsign “Winder”, formerly of Prentiss Squadron.”
If the Players ask why he is “formerly” of Prentiss Squadron:
“Ehhh... Let's just say me and the ground have an unhealthy attraction. Crash landings are my specialty.”
If the Players ask what's going to happen now that the supply chain is cut:
“I dunno, gents. That's more Lieutenant Droll's line of work.”
If the Players ask about the Revanant:
“She's not nearly as fast as a fighter, and not even half as agile, but she's a hell of a lot more durable. We took some hits getting out of there, according to the ship's computer, but I'll bet you didn't even notice. I sure didn't.”
When the GM starts to feel like the Players are done with the conversation, Winder makes his exit:
“What's that beeping? Oh, hell, we're coming up on the RV point. That was a quick jump. I guess this girl's faster than I thought. I'd better start the landing cycle.”
As the conversation ends, the long, blurred lines of hyperspace give way to the blackness of realspace. Looking around, the PCs will see very little except stars; they're in the middle of nowhere, empty space. Dead ahead however, they see the round, turtle-like shape of the GY-17843, a Gallofree Medium Transport. As the Revanant settles into a landing pattern (as the players do, if they took the Y-Wings), a flight of Z-95s from Stryker Squadron settles into covering positions, trailing the PCs all the way in. As they get closer, the comms unit(s) crackle, then clear up:
“Sentinel Dropship Revanant (and Y-Wings), this is GY-17843. You are directed to land in the main hangar bay. Do not disembark without instruction.”
Winder will reply:
“Ah, 17843, this is Revanant. Is there a problem? We're carrying a full load of cargo.”
“Revanant, you *will* land in the main hangar bay. Do not disembark without instruction.”
“Understood, 17843. Revanant out.
The PCs bring the ship(s) in for a landing in the main hangar bay, and as they pass through the magcon field, the Z-95s peel off, taking up a picket orbit around the big Gallofree. If the PCs called in Stryker Squadron support earlier, the four hyperspace-capable ships link up with their sublight counterparts. When the PCs land, with a regular perception check, they can see a platoon of Rebel Marines taking up defensive positions surrounding the ship(s). After a moment of silence, the comms open again.
“Revanant (and Y-Wings), you and your passengers will disembark. Keep your hands away from any weapons.”
The PCs and Winder disembark. When they reach the bottom of the boarding ramp (or exit the cockpits of their fighters) a voice calls out across the hangar bay:
“Winder, is that you!?”
“Yeah, it's me, who'd you think it was?”
From behind a stack of fuel drums, a familiar looking officer appears, straightening out his uniform. It's Lieutenant Droll! He motions at one of the Marines.
“Sorry, Sergeant, looks like your boys won't be needed after all.”
Grumbling, the Marine sergeant and his men exit the hangar bay, clearly disappointed at the lack of shooting, and some of them can faintly be heard complaining about the weapons cleaning they'll have to do before checking their weapons back into the armory. Droll walks up to the PCs and Winder, looking them up and down.
“Happy landings, Winder?” Droll asks,
“Any one I can walk away from, Jakob.” Winder answers, grinning,
After a moment, the two laugh together and shake hands.
“You gotten to know these clowns at all, Max?” Droll asks, gesturing at the players.
“A little. They saved all our asses back at Kartos. A light platoon of Imperials showed up on a tip from ISB, nearly snagged us, the Revanant, and our cargo.”
“Good work, you men. I guess we can trust you to get the job done after all.”
“It's not all good news, Lieutenant. They got Hadgi.” Winder interrupts.
“Oh, hell.”
Now, it's time for the Players to enter the conversation.
If the Players ask why Hadgi was so important:
“Hadgi was our one-stop-shop in this system. Without him, or someone like him, I don't think the local base will be able to keep running. It takes too much time, and it's too costly to bring in supplies from out-system. By the time a run got in, the next shopping list would be twice as long.”
If the Players ask about the Lieutenant's association with Winder:
“What, Winder? We go way, way back.”
“Ha, yeah, way back to when you still thought you could be a snubfighter pilot.”
“I'm telling you, the lateral power converter burned out.”
“And my last crash was due to enemy ground fire.”
“The biggest gun on the ground was an E-WEB, Winder. If that knocked you out, you *deserve* to be flying the Revanant.”
If the Players ask what's going to happen now:
“I don't know what's going to happen, but I know what needs to happen.”
If the Players ask what needs to happen:
“You need to get out there and find us a new source. Actually, scratch that. Find us three. They need to be compartmentalized; none can know about the others. You'll ride with Winder again; he's a good pilot, reliable in a fight, and a source of good, if colorful, judgment. He'll keep a line of communications open to me at all times.”
If the Players ask why this base needs to keep running:
“This system is far enough out of the way that the Empire doesn't poke its nose in too often, AKA, it's ideal for a secret base, particularly one where there might be a lot of shooting and explosions. This is the training facility for most of the sector's armed forces. On the surface, you've got the gunnery and bombing ranges, plus an advanced infantry school, with facilities to house some armor if we ever get a hold of any. The sector's flight school is based there as well. Hmm, the flight school...maybe you should give them a call, eh, Winder?”
“Piss off! Uh, I mean, piss off, sir.”
If the Players ask what system they're in:
“That's compartmentalized information, and you don't need to know. That said, you'll probably find out as soon as you make an approach on the first planet you visit.”
If the Players ask about acquiring new gear:
“I'll be honest, you boys have done a **** fine job, **** fine. The only reason we sent you on that trip was because we couldn't find anything better for you to do. Now that we know better, we'll treat you better too. Give the armorer a visit, he'll help you out. It won't be free; since you're with Intel and not one of our integrated units, you won't be able to draw supplies or be issued weapons, but it's better than nothing. Oh, and your paychecks came in on the last gunship; you can withdraw the funds from the recreational computer in the crew quarters.”
If the Players captured Y-Wings:
“Good work, by the way, grabbing those fighters. I'm afraid, due to the needs of the Fleet, you can't keep them, but I'll put a good word in for you with Sector Intelligence. Maybe they'll drop a bonus on your next paycheck.”
If the players ask any questions that they should've asked last time they met Droll, reference the previous module, “Thanks for Shopping”.
If the Players don't ask enough questions:
“Men of few words, huh. Well, don't get too settled. You and Winder are going right back out there as soon as you get yourselves patched up and the mechanics give the Revanant a twice-over. You're gonna have to find us some new suppliers...trustworthy ones, y'hear? Three of them. One for munitions and surplus, one for mechanical gear, and one for medical supplies and foodstuffs. Get going; we're all counting on you.”
When the Players are about done with the conversation:
“Don't get too settled. You and Winder are going right back out there as soon as you get yourselves patched up and the mechanics give the Revanant a twice-over. You're gonna have to find us some new suppliers...trustworthy ones, y'hear? Three of them. One for munitions and surplus, one for mechanical gear, and one for medical supplies and foodstuffs. Get going; we're all counting on you.”
With the end of the conversation, the Players have free run of the ship. For the moment, potential destinations include the medbay/infirmary, the armory, the creq quarters/computer, and the mess hall. The first two are fairly straightforward; they can get medical attention at the infirmary, and buy weapons, armor, and gear at the armory. The latter two are slightly more interesting, and either one can be the root to any number of sidequest seeds. In addition, they can buy food in the mess hall, should you as a GM decide to integrate nutrition/hydration into your campaign. The players will draw their pay once every two weeks from the computer in the crew quarters, though I'm sure they'll find other ways to make some money. For the purposes of this campaign, there are three possible non-combat encounters that can occur on the GY-17843: one each in the infirmary, mess hall, and armory.
When the players enter the mess hall, the GM should mention that they see the ship's quartermaster eating alone at a table. He has the look of an experienced spacer about him, though not one who's seen a lot of combat, which suggests some skill in talking and negotiating. Maybe he has some connections in the area that could help the Players find a new source of foodstuffs.
If the Players introduce themselves:
“Ah, you must be the special Intel team we received. Welcome aboard. I'm Marcus Dreyfus, ship's quartermaster.”
If the Players ask about his background:
“I've bounced around quite a bit. Did a lot of smuggling a while back, working for one of the larger Mandalorian clans. Not gunrunning, mind you; getting caught bringing a shipment of blasters to Mandalore warrants immediate execution. No, I brought in food; the Empire goes to great lengths to keep the Mandalorians in the hole, and probably for good reason. Legend has it they nearly took control of the galaxy once.”
If the Players ask about connections in the area:
“I'm sure you know I can't tell you where we are. Opsec and all that. That said, I will say I used to work with a charitable organization which used to operate around here. Last I checked, they'd shut down, but one of the local crime syndicates picked up most of the leftover infrastructure. Ask around about the old Peacable Galaxy Initiative, and you might get lucky.”
When the Players exhaust the useful points of the conversation:
“Well, that's about it for my lunch break. I've got to get back to work, but maybe I'll see you around.”
When the players enter the armory, the GM should mention that there is a holograph behind the check-in/out window of the armorer with a Twi'lek in front of a building. The business sign on the building reads “Red Rac'chek's Military Surplus”.
If the Players introduce themselves:
“Intel, right? Thought so. I'm Master Gunnery Sergeant Larson, ship's armorer.”
If the Players ask about the picture:
“What, that? Just a memento of the good old days. Back before the Rebellion...before the Empire burned my world...I was a mercenary, with one of the independent private security firms. That Twi'lek there was my best friend through it all; we went through Basic together, made our first drops together, boarded our first ship together. After the Empire started cracking down on the merc companies, though, we decided to get out. He opened a surplus store, and I worked it with him for a while. It was pretty successful too, made him enough money to let him open a whole chain. Last I heard, he'd moved his headquarters to...well, somewhere near here.”
If the Players ask about a possible connection:
“Rac'chek wasn't really interested in joining the Rebellion, even after Alderaan. That said...yeah, he might help us, if we kept it quiet. Look him up in the combook when you get dirtside.”
When the Players exhaust the conversation:
“Listen, motivators, I'd love to chat. Intel teams don't just drop out of the sky every day. But I've got a platoon's worth of firepower to check back in, thanks to that cluster with Kartos and the Revanant. Move along, or buy something.”
When the Players enter the infirmary, the GM should mention that they recognize the doctor from a prevalent series of advertisements, but they can't quite remember what the advertisements were for.
If the Players introduce themselves:
“Yeah, one of these malingerers mentioned some spooks came aboard. I'm Doctor Tevil Razzan.”
If the Players ask why they recognize him:
“I filmed a series of commercials for Intergalactic Medical, a fairly unsuccessful medical corporation. The commercials were supposed to boost their name recognition and bring them legitimacy and business, but it didn't really. They're pretty much relegated to supplying disaster relief groups who can't afford to pay that much for medical gear.”
If the Players ask about a possible connecton:
“Ha! They sure would. We buy enough medical supplies that we could probably boost their quarterly income by twenty percent. It would have to be off the books, but corporations are all the same; money is money. I think there's a local branch around here. If you can find it, ask to speak to the marketing manager.”
When the Players exhaust the conversation:
“Look, I'd love to sit and chat, but I've got to get these fakers back on the up-and-up. If you need medical attention, fine, but if you don't, you need to leave.”
When the Players are done exploring the Gallofree, they may return to the Revanant, and depart, for destinations unbeknownst to them, but knownst to us, the GMs. As they reenter the hangar bay, the Players see Winder talking with the chief mechanic. After a moment, the two separate, and Winder spots the Players, waving them up the ramp.
“C'mon, guys. It's time we got off this junk hauler.”
The Players board the dropship, and Winder takes his usual position in the cockpit. The Players try to sit in the troop bay, but Winder pokes his head back in and looks at them oddly.
“What are you doing? This isn't a bus, and I'm not your chauffeur. Besides, I get bored easily. Get up here, take a load off.”
From here on out, the Players will ride in the cockpit with Winder. Once settled, Winder takes the Revanant out of the hangar bay, and once past the picket line, makes the jump to lightspeed. This can be an ideal time for characters to converse amongst themselves, talk to Winder, or play a friendly game of sabaac (or pazaak!).
IMPERIAL ENTANGLEMENTS
After an in-game hour, the ship drops out of hyperspace, roughly an hour out of orbit. Ahead of them, the globular shape of a planet grows in the cockpit viewscreen. It is blue and green, with swirls of white cloud cover. As they get closer, the greens develop into different shades, from dark, verdant green forests, to the creamy, light green of the plains. Seeing the Players' interest, Winder kicks in his two cents.
“It's the only habitable planet in the system, and an agriworld. It's so far out of the way, the Empire has almost no presence aside from a short company of infantry, and whatever military personnel decide to visit on leave. No moons, but there's a small space station in orbit. Usually an Imperial patrol ship, IPV1-class, is docked there or patrols in the immediate vicinity.”
Immediately following his monologue, the comms unit kicks on.
“Unidentified Sentinel-class landing craft, this is Imperial Patrol Ship Kendry. You are entering Imperial space. You will shut down your engines, and prepare to be boarded.”
“Oh, hell!” Winder snarls. Calming himself, he keys the mic. “Understood, Kendry. Shutting down now.”
This is an important moment for the Players. For the first time, they are entering a conversation where their very words could have negative consequences. It is important that they understand the gravity of the situation, and as a GM, you should impress it upon them. For example, Winder's attitude shift is one detail. Gone is the cocky, wiseasss pilot the Players had been getting to know. As the communication ends, his skin cools to a pasty white, and a line of sweat drips down his brow. He spins his chair around to face the Players and leans forward.
“Okay, I guess the IPV's out and about today. Now, we need to be careful. There's nothing aboard this ship that implicates us as being members of the Alliance. Our codes check out as a cargo hauler for an independent import/export firm. This ship was in fact, unlike just about every other old Imperial ship in the Fleet, actually acquired legally. All we have to do is keep calm, answer their questions, and we'll be okay.”
Outside the cockpit viewscreen, the prow of the Imperial patrol ship eases into view, paralleling the Revanant. The ship shakes slightly as a tractor beam takes hold, and a series of thuds resound through the hull as a docking clamp locks down its magnetic grip. Finally, a beeping from the console indicates that an airlock link has been formed. The comms crackle again, and the same voice as before comes through, very clearly.
“Unidentified Sentinel-class landing craft, you will assemble your entire crew at the starboard airlock and stand by for boarding. You will keep the airlock unlocked. You will be on your knees, with your hands on your head.”
“Understod, Kendry.” Winder flicks off the comms unit, and stands up. “Okay, boys and girls, it's showtime.”
Winder leads the Players into the troop bay, and gets on his knees before the starboard airlock. When the PCs are also in position, the airlock groans open, revealing an Imperial officer and four Fleet Troopers. The Fleet Troopers fan out, two of them covering the PCs and Winder, and two of them beginning to search the ship. The officer steps forward. If the PCs ask more about him, have them roll an easy Perception check. If they pass, they notice a distinctive scar running down the left side of his face, and that his nametag reads “Jarvis”. If they fail the check with any threats, the beginning of the following conversation may be different.
If the Players passed the check without threat, failed it without threat, or didn't make it:
“State your business on Orron III.”
If the Players received threat on the previous check:
“What are you looking at, hmm? See something you like? State your business on Orron III.”
Winder glances over at the Players. If it takes them too long to reply, he'll answer instead, making an average Charm check with one Setback, to represent taking too long to answer, drawing suspicion. If the Players answer, with a believable story, they make an average Charm check with one Boost, to represent a bored Imperial officer hearing yet another simple story. If the Players answer with something clearly out of the ordinary, they make an average Charm check with one Setback, to represent a bored Imperial officer hearing something that makes him start paying attention.
If they pass the check:
“Hmm. Yes, that fits what we have on record for this vessel. We'll conduct a search, and if you're carrying no contraband, you'll be on your way.”
If they fail the check, due to an unusual excuse:
“That doesn't match what we have on record at all. We'll be conducting a thorough search, and if we find anything unusual, your interrogations will be...extensive.”
If they simply fail the check, or Winder fails the check:
“Hmph. Your story matches our records, but my men and I are bored, and frankly, they could use some practice. They'll conduct a thorough search, but I doubt they'll find anything. Afterwards, you'll be on your way.”
If the Players or Winder pass the check, the Fleet Troopers conduct a fairly loose search of the ship, essentially checking for illegal weapons, stowaways, or other contraband. After thirty minutes, they signal to the officer that the ship is clear.
“Everything seems to check out, sir.”
“Hmph. Very well, Captain. You and your crew may proceed. I...apologize...for the delay.”
If the Players fail the check, the Fleet Troopers take their time, investigating every nook and cranny, checking technical specifications, and opening cargo boxes at random, though they find nothing unusual. After two hours, they signal to the officer that the ship is clear.
“Everything seems to check out, sir.”
“Hmph. Get back to the Kendry. Listen, Captain. You and your crew are free to go, but bear this in mind: I'll be watching you. If you behave yourselves, there won't be any need for further issue. If you run astray of the law on Orron III, I'll take a personal interest in your prosecution. Are we clear?”
Once the conversation is over, the Imperial patrol ship detaches and moves off. The Players feel relieved, and anxious to get to the surface before any further problems arise. Winder, however, is back to his usual self, and bounces back into the cockpit.
“Thank the Force that's over. C'mon, guys, let's get down there.”
Winder punches the engine startup button, and the six military-grade engines whine to life. The ship accelerates quickly; the pilot's eagerness to get to ground is evident. The orbital spacedock is passed quickly; with a hard Perception check the Players can note that there is an Imperial troopship docked there. The transition from space to atmosphere is quick, but Winder begins easing up on the engines as the ground comes into clearer view. The ground below is separated in a grid pattern, forming squares of farmland. Here and there, large forests can be seen. With a daunting Perception check, the Players can see a satellite dish and comms towers poking out of one forest off in the distance. Directly ahead of the Revanant, a settlement comes into view. As they get closer, it becomes more defined, and the Players make out what appears to be a fairly rural city, with wide streets, and short, flat buildings. It's not a small town by any means; on the contrary, it looks closer to an industrial district. The spaceport itself is extensive. Huge freighters take on loads of grain and other foodstuffs. Smaller cargo ships bring in loads of machinery and higher technology. As they close in, Winder makes a call on the comm unit.
“Jaynesville Tower, this is Sentinel-class landing craft Revanant, requesting permission to land.”
“Revanant, this is Tower. You are cleared to land in hangar bay two-four-six, your heading plus thirty-two degrees.”
“Understood, Tower. Revanant out.”
Winder brings the ship in for a smooth landing, settling it down first on the repulsorlifts, and then onto the landing gear. With two final button taps, he kills the engines and opens the boarding ramp, then turns to the Players.
“So, welcome to Orron III. This is one of the few major settlements on the planet, and the only one with an Imperial garrison. It's a pretty quiet town. People here generally stay in line, and there's no pirate presence whatsoever, which is a nice change in pace for us, eh? You guys got a plan?”
The Players will freestyle this conversation, and regardless of what they say, Winder responds in this manner.
“Sounds okay to me. Just stay in touch, yeah? Let me know what you're up to before you do it. Here: take a datapad each. You can use it to send me messages, or contact me directly via live holograph. Or, just call me on the comlink. Your choice.”
After this exchange, the Players are free to leave the Revanant and begin their quest! The entirety of Jaynesville is open to exploration, though I leave the actual design of the city up to each individual GM. The Players themselves are responsible for finding their way from here. A note for GMs: Players can be extraordinarily crafty, but they can also be extraordinarily stupid. Either extreme can bring an adventure to a halt. Work around their issues, but try to avoid giving the impression that you're helping them directly. You don't want to let them think they can rely on you.
The Players can get their first lead by several means. They can approach someone on the street and ask for directions, using Charm. Using Streetwise, they might approach a seedy-looking individual and pay him a token fee for information. Otherwise, they might wander around for an amount of time determined by the GM, and then stumble across the objective, whichever one the GM deems appropriate. They might download maps to their datapad, using a Computers check. If they think of anything else, within a reasonable limit, accommodate them with an appropriate check.
BARGAINING 101
The following section entails the various connections that may be made. Surprise! There's actually four of them. In the course of negotiations, one of these deals will go sour. Spoiler alert, it's the medical company. Betcha thought it would be the crime syndicate, didn't you? Ah, well, that's how things go sometimes.
ARMS FOR AN ARMY
If the Players decide to pay a visit to Red Rac'chek, it's time for some aggressive negotiations. Red is a rough member of society. He spent years with the Shrieking Silvers mercenary company, and saw combat in insurgent fronts across the galaxy. His tenacity and survival instincts have transferred well over to business, and his chain of military surplus stores has expanded from a shack on Dantooine to fifteen superstores and millions of credits in profit, with over a billion credits anually in business. In other words, Red is not someone to fool around with, physically or financially.
When the Players enter the store, they find themselves in a huge warehouse-like shop. If your Players are confused, mention Wal-Mart, and everything should clear up. Anyway, the aisles are filled with surplus gear. In one section, communications gear, headsets, comlinks, backpack comms units. In another section, camoflage gear and uniforms, in dozens of different cuts, styles, and patterns. Web gear, rucksacks, utility belts abound. Boots, from cheap, government issue combat boots to private purchase, personally fitted battle dress boots, line one aisle all by themselves. At the back of the store, the wall is filled with security cases; specifically designed to contain and protect firearms, while still being able to show off the contents, thanks to their thick transparisteel design. There is a group of checkout lanes at the front of the store, but there is also an office in the far corner, and a counter in the back near the weaponry.
If the Players want to buy product, they may choose items at will from the shelves. This does not include firearms. Firearms may only be purchased at the counter in the back, and the Players will find that there are other issues with purchasing them.
If the Players have issues deciding how to find Red, a heavily muscled, rough looking Trandoshan approaches them. A heavy blaster pistol is holstered at his hip. His chest and thighs are armored in dull, scratched red battle armor.
“Can thissss one help you find something? The door, perhapssssss. Red Rac'chek does not take kindly to thievesssss sssssscoping out his esssssstablishment.”
The Players may (quite rightly) be a little worried by this. However, they'll find that things go much better if they stay cool.
If the Players ask if the Trandoshan is Red Rac'chek:
“Do I look red to you, ssssssentient?”
If the Players ask to see Red Rac'chek, they make a charm check against the Trandoshan's Vigilance.
If they pass:
“Hmm...perhapssss you ssssspeak truth. Perhapssss I should take you to see Misssssster Rac'chek. Follow me.”
If they fail:
“Foolish sssssentients, Rac'chek will deal with you himssssself. You're coming with me!”
The Players may panic when presented with the Trandoshan's wrath. If they make like they're gonna run, they feel a slight stabbing in their lower back, followed by the paralyzing pain of several thousand volts of electricity. They will pass out, and will awaken in Red Rac'chek's office, tied to chairs. If they succeed with the check, and go with the Trandoshan, the Trandoshan makes a short, whispered comlink call, before leading them into the corner office. Whether the check passes or fails, the Trandoshan leaves them alone in the office with Red Rac'chek.
Red Rac'chek's office is more akin to a security suite than a corporate management office. The back wall, behind his blocky, metal desk, is made up entirely of security camera feeds on any number of 2D holograph screens. Red Rac'chek himself sits in the tall, sturdy looking chair behind the desk. True to his nickname, he is in fact red. A hideous burn scar run froms the left side of his face down across his left shoulder. The left side of his mouth doesn't move when he talks, creating a noticable slur.
“So. I hear you wanted to see me.”
Regardless of what the Players say, he immediately cuts them off:
“But first, I want to know exactly who you are. You don't look like anybody who would want to do business with me. You look more like...defeated soldiers...than successful mercs looking to make a supply deal.”
If the Players tell the truth, Red Rac'chek leans way back in his chair. (Note: there is no reason for the Players to lie. After all, their whole purpose in being here is to make a bargain for the Alliance. If they lie, Red will see through their deception, and while he doesn't know who they work for, will ask them to leave, though they may return when they're ready to tell the truth.)
“Rebels, huh? Tell me, what made you come to me? Why do you think you can trust me?”
The Players should mention the Armorer of the GY-17843, Master Gunnery Sergeant Larson.
“Ha! So, that's what Banger's up to these days, eh? I haven't heard from him since just after Alderaan, when he bailed on me overnight. Well, if Banger sent you, I guess I can't say no, can I? Man saved my ass more times than I can count! Don't get me wrong, I covered him more than a few times myself, but, that's not the point. Come with me.”
Red will get up from behind his desk and breezes out the heavy door of his office, throwing it wide open. Nodding towards the Trandoshan standing guard outside, he leads the Players towards the back of the store. Once they reach the counter in front of the guns, Red pushes open the door, heading behind the counter, and punches a code into a keypad on the wall, opening a blast door, which leads to the backstock room. Once everyone is through the door, Red punches a second keypad, closing the blast door...and sending the floor panel everybody's standing on groaning downwards. For a moment, there is nothing but inky blackness, and then, suddenly, there is light. A huge underground warehouse extends before the Players. Crates have labels like “FRAG GRENADES”, “E-WEB”, and “ASSAULT MISSILES”. Racks of heavy ordnance are scattered about, and with an easy Knowledge: Warfare check, the Players will recognize proton torpedoes and concussion missiles. Drums of tibanna gas sit here and there. With an average perception check, the Players notice that not a speck of dust is to be seen anywhere. Either the product is well maintained, or it's moved in and out extremely quickly. Red waves his arms.
“My Rebel friends! Take a look around! See what I can do for your cause. You must know, I have no love for the Empire. In fact, they did this to me.”
He gestures at his face.
“An Imperial inspection team was overzealous in searching one of my vessels just off Corellia. They paid for their dedication to duty, but not before giving me a little parting gift. A stun grenade went off right next to my head, the heat set me aflame. I barely survived. And of course, the events surrounding Alderaan are tragic, to say the least. If I didn't have my company, I would have followed Banger. Give me his contact information, and I'll touch base with him, set up a pickup schedule and payment contract.”
As the monologue concludes, the Players hear the lift groan into motion behind them. The Trandoshan is headed back upstairs. The Players spin around, but a burst of blaster fire keeps them back. Red curses.
“****! I should have known! Trassk is going to tell the Empire!
If the Players ask why Trassk is going to snitch:
“C'mon, we'll talk as we run. There's a cargo lift just over there; I'll bet my life that Trassk locked down his lift. Trassk used to work for Black Sun, and Black Sun is close to the Emperor. This sort of information could make him a lot of money, and make the Emperor very happy. Quickly, now!”
The cargo lift Red Rac'chek leads the Players to is fairly speedy, and when they reach the backstock room, they see that the blast door leading to the storefront is wide open, and Trassk is making a sprint for the front doors. The Players chase after him, and they reach the front door just in time to see Trassk race off on a speeder bike. Red points to a set of surplus speeder bikes with “SALE” signs on them.
“Take the bikes, go!”
The Players now conduct a high speed chase on speeder bikes. The most combat oriented Player, or whoever doesn't have a pistol, has a speeder with a light repeating blaster built in, a product of its surplus origins, which uses Gunnery. Otherwise, the Players use their blaster pistols, at a setback to Ranged (Light). Trassk is not afraid to fire back, however, and if the players take too long to kill him or otherwise disable his speeder bike, a pair of Scout Troopers give chase as well. After all, shooting in the streets is frowned upon in most communities. “Too long”, in this case, is determined as three rounds of combat.
After the Players are done with Trassk, and possibly the Scout Troopers, they return to the surplus store and Red. On the way there, they make an average Skulduggery check to try and shake pursuit or avoid notice. Whether they pass or fail, the GM notes the result, and says something along the lines of “doubling back, you try to keep incognito and avoid recognition”.
When the Players get back to Red, he's pacing nervously outside.
“You got him, right? He's down?”
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“Good. I had my security boys round up the witnesses from inside and pay them off, and they got as many of the pedestrians from outside too, but I think you should clear out for now. Be seeing you.”
Red then walks back inside, leaving the Players in the street.
DRUG PROBLEMS
If the Players decide to give Intergalactic Medical a visit, they're going to have a wild time. They don't know it yet, but this visit is going to end in a double-cross.
The local Intergalactic Medical offices are a dingy, unimpressing affair. The Players step into a room with bad carpeting, peeling wallpaper, and about six unbroken chairs. In the far wall, there is an inset window, behind which there is a bored looking Devaronian secretary reading a magazine. When the Players decide to approach the window, their comlinks start ringing all at once. It's Winder.
“Hey, guys. What's going on?”
If the Players say they're visiting Intergalactic Medical:
“Hoo, boy. So, we're working with a corporation? Okay. This is fine, it'll work, but be vague. Keep your exact allegiances off the table until we're sure we can trust these people. Copy?”
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“Good deal. Revanant out.”
If the Players ask why they have to be so vague:
“Look, guys, corporations aren't the most trustworthy folks. Honestly, I'd rather leave my money in a Hutt bank than trust a corporation with my spare change.”
When Winder signs off, the Players may proceed to the window. The secretary will barely look up from her magazine.
“Do you have an appointment?”
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“I'll need your name, time slash date of appointment, and PIN number. Thanks.”
If the Players answer in the negative:
“Well, the doctor is busy at the moment, but on the bright side, there's no patients ahead of you. Have a seat. Shouldn't be too long.
If the Players threaten the secretary, they make an average Coercion check.
If they pass:
“Oh, oh, okay, okay, I'll get the doctor!”
If they fail:
“Ha, ha. Nice try, kids, but that happens about once a day here. This window is solid transparisteel. Have a seat and wait for the doctor. Thanks.”
If the Players claimed to have an appointment, and then don't have any info:
“Yeah, I didn't think I recognized you. Have a seat and wait like every other walk-in.”
If the players try to talk their way past the secretary, they make an average Charm check.
If they pass:
“Well...I guess just this once. I'll get the doctor right away.”
If they fail:
“Yeah, if I let every mook who didn't want to wait in, I'd be out of a job. Have a seat.”
If the Players have to sit and wait, they stay there for three hours, bored out of their minds, with only a staticky Holonet projector to entertain them. If they successfully threaten or scam their way through the secretary, the doctor comes out immediately.
“Yes, can I help you?”
If the Players start to spill their guts:
“Maybe we'd best go somewhere more private. Grella, please tell any more walk-ins that we're closed.”
The doctor then leads them into his back office and closes the door with a loud squeak. He settles into his worn, but luxurious, chair and peers at them over the top of his spectacles.
“Very well, then. Carry on.”
Once the Players have laid out what they're hoping to acquire, the doctor leans forward.
“And who exactly do you work for, so I know who I'm dealing with?”
If the Players deflect the question:
“Hmph. Well, I guess I can't have everything in life. Why should I help you?”
If the Players (for some reason) tell the truth:
“What's this, now? Rebels, in broad daylight? You've got guts, I'll give you that. Why should I help you?”
The Players now have a choice of Charm, Streetwise, or Coercion. Charm tries to convince the doctor that the Empire is evil, and the Rebellion is going to win anyway, so why not be on the winning side? Streetwise attempts to lure the doctor with promises of money and financial rewards. Coercion threatens the doctor with negative consequences if he doesn't help the Rebellion. Regardless of what choice the Players make, it's an average check.
If the Players successfully charm the doctor:
“You make a good argument, and honestly, I agree.”
If the Players successfully coerce the doctor:
“Look, now, there's no need for threats, okay?”
If the Players successfully bribe the doctor:
“That's quite a lot of money you're offering. My wallet could use an infusion of cash.”
If the Players fail to charm the doctor:
“I'm sorry, I'm just not seeing it yet.”
If the Players fail to coerce the doctor:
“I've been on the Rim a long, long time. Threats won't work on me.”
If the Players fail to bribe the doctor:
“What do you think I am, that you try to bribe me this way?”
Regardless of the result of the check, once the doctor answers, the Players' comlinks start ringing. If they go to answer, the doctor interrupts.
“You, know, it's considered rude on most planets to answer your comlink in the middle of a business deal.”
If the Players don't answer the call, the conversation continues. GMs may improvise additional dialogue for the doctor, but at every break in conversation, the comlinks ring again. When the Players finally pick up the phone, it's Winder.
“Listen, and listen good. I'm tapped into the local law enforcement frequencies, and what I'm hearing ain't great. There's a couple squads of beat cops headed for Intergalactic, and they might be bringing Imperial Army troops with them. Get out, now!”
When the call ends, the Players see that the doctor has pulled a holdout blaster from somewhere, and is holding it on them.
“Sorry. I'm in talks with the local Imperial garrison for exclusive medical rights, and turning you in might be just the thing to tip negotiations in my favor.”
He then opens fire, but should be easily gunned down by the Players. The Players, when they move to leave the office, are confronted immediately in the hallway by a minion group of five Jaynesville Police officers, armed with blaster pistols. Moving back into the waiting room, they bump into a squad of four Imperial Army troopers, at engaged range. A vicious fight ensues. When the Players are done with them, and move back onto the street, they're surrounded. Three minion groups of five JPD officers and one group of four Imperial Army troopers are holding their blasters on the Players. A loud voice booms out over a loudspeaker.
“Attention, criminals, this is the Jaynesville Police Department. Lay down your weapons, and you will not be harmed.”
If the Players lay down their weapons, they are taken into custody. If they attempt to shoot it out with the JPD, they roll initiative at one setback to Vigilance, and the JPD and Imperials engage them with stun weapons. If taken into custody or stunned, the Players are unceremoniously tossed into the back of a speeder truck, under the gun of a nervous, angry looking young police officer. Their weapons, having been bagged and tagged, are stuffed into a duffel bag and locked in a trunk towards the front of the truck. With an easy Perception check, they will hear other officers talking about the fate of the Players; they're to be taken to headquarters, interrogated, and booked.
As the speeder truck moves off, the young police officer glowers at them angrily.
“I bet you think you're such tough guys, don't you? You come into our town, shoot our people. You're scum. The Imperials are right. Scum deserve to die.”
The Players may take a number of actions within reason here. They are not tied down, but they are cuffed. With an average Skulduggery check, they can wriggle their hands free of their cuffs. With a difficult Charm check (and convincing roleplay), they might convince the police officer to let them go. With an average Coercion check (and again, good roleplay), they might goad the officer into a fight on the back of the truck. With a difficult Streetwise check, they could bribe the officer into letting them go. With a difficult Athletics check, they could bring their hands up around their legs, thus giving them better range of motion, and somewhat free hands, though the police officer will likely attack at that point. They might come up with alternate solutions, within reason, and the GM may approve them with an appropriate check. With an average Computers, Mechanics, or Athletics check, they Players may force the trunk open and recover their weapons.
Once free, by whatever means, the only way off the truck is to jump. On landing, they take fall damage, as per the CRB, and make a difficult Skulduggery check. Whether they pass or fail, the GM notes the result.
The players then trudge through the city streets to the Revanant, where Winder is anxiously awaiting them.
“Oh, thank the maker, you're alright. Get in here. Tell me what happened, everything that happened.”
When the Players do so:
“Okay, it's not too bad. Word of your escape is all over the law enforcement nets, but there's only vague descriptions; they might not've got you on holocam. Downside is, we're gonna need a new supplier, 'cause obviousely Intergalactic isn't gonna do anything for us. Hang out for a bit if you need to, recover a little bit of your stamina, but then put a hustle on. With all this uproar, it's only gonna be a matter of time before someone connects the dots.”
If the Players didn't recover their weapons:
“Force, where are your blasters? Man, what a mess. There's some light blaster pistols in the emergency kit that you can use for now. But I want them back, y'hear?”
QUID PRO QUO
When the Players decide to go look into the Peacable Galaxy Initiative, through whatever means, they find that the business, despite what the Quartermaster said, still seems to be up and running. One of the few true office buildings the Players have seen, once they step inside, they find themselves in a beautiful, well maintained lobby. A fountain inset on the far wall provides terrific ambience, and calming music is piped through the speakers. A circular kiosk in the center of the room has three young women, human, Twi'lek, and Zabrak manning it, all with huge smiles on their faces. The Zabrak excuses herself through a lift gate, and walks to meet the Players.
“Hi, welcome to the Peacable Galaxy Initiative. I'm Tal. Is there something I can help you with?”
If the Players mention that they thought the Initiative had been shut down:
“We did go out of business for a short period, but a private party picked up our assets, and actually brought most of us back on board and put us back to work.”
If the Players ask what the Initiative does:
“The Peacable Galaxy Initiative seeks to foster peace and understanding by means of grain. This simple substance, which is so plentiful here, is disturbingly hard to find in some corners of the galaxy, and even in some parts of the Orron system itself, and the the Corporate Sector on the whole. Planets which lack in food frequently lash out, trying to achieve by conquest which they have not been able to by farming. We provide such impoverished places with a stable source of grain and processed foof products.”
If the Players ask who's in charge:
“Triton Tann is our current head, as he should be, given that he funded our return to business.”
If the Players ask to see Triton:
“I'm afraid Mr. Triton is a busy man, and I don't know his day to day schedule, but I can inquire-”
Tal's comlink headset beeps, and the Players can just barely detect the whisper of a voice being passed directly into her ear.
“Understood, sir. I'm sorry, gentles. Mr. Triton is in fact not busy, and would like to see you right away. I must admit, I've never seen him take a personal interest in anybody quite like this. If you'll please follow me.”
Tal leads the Players over to the fountain, which, at the tap of a finger on her datapad, splits in two, and slides outwards to the sides. Behind it, a young human man, in elegant but practical clothing, sits behind a desk in a small, simple office. Tal nods politely at the Players, motions them inside, and then closes the fountain behind them. Behind the desk, there is a single, small, metal door. The man behind the desk looks at the Players coolly.
“I understand you came in on the Revanant.” he says.
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“Got a little bit of attention on the way in, huh? The Kendry didn't treat you too roughly, I hope. Don't look so surprised, of course I've been watching you.”
If the Players answer in the negative:
“There's not much point in lying to me. I've been watching you ever since you made the reversion from hyperspace.”
If the Players ask why Triton's been watching them:
“One of my contacts told me an interesting story this morning, about a dropship that blasted its way out of Kartos with a hold full of military-grade munitions. A few hours later, you show up, your hull streaked with carbon scoring, and a completely empty hold. Of course I'm going to be curious. So. Tell me. Who are you, really?”
Before the Players can answer, a speaker on Triton's desk squawks.
“That's enough, Triton. Send them in.”
“Yes, Miss Lyria.” He taps a button on his datapad, opening the door behind him. “Well? Get in there.”
When the Players enter, they find themselves in a larger, more luxuriously appointed office. An animal floor rug sits before a large, hardwood desk. Pieces of art adorn the walls, both in florid landscapes and dark portraits. Behind the desk there is a tall chair, facing a window.
“I'm sorry about Mr. Triton, but in this line of work, it's sometimes necessary to have a front. For protection, you understand.”
The chair spins around, and the Players find themselves looking at a teenage human girl. Her red hair is shorn short, and while Triton wore business attire, she seems more comfortable in a cut down suit of battle armor. The chestpiece and shoulder pauldrons are red with grey trim, and there are no sleeves, though she does wear bracers and gloves. She wears a pair of black combat pants and combat boots, with a heavy blaster pistol holstered at her thigh and red plates protecting her knees.
“And besides, not everyone is willing to work with The Kid. So. I haven't told Triton what I think about you, other than that you're interesting. Since you're here, though, I'll share.”
She leans forward and lowers her voice to a menacing growl.
“I think you're Rebels. Or Alliance, whatever lifts your ship. The Imps around here aren't too bright, but me, I'm something else. What are you doing on Orron III, and what are you doing in my headquarters?”
The Players may start to answer, but before they do, she cuts them off:
“Wait, no, let me guess. With Hadgi dead, you need a new source in the system. Am I close?”
This conversation is extremely reliant on the GM, and I'm not going to flesh it out much. Key points, though, should the GM need guidance: her name is Lyria Desilla AKA The Kid, and she's a crime lord on Orron III, with connections throughout the sector. Hadgi worked for her. She's got no shortage of food to supply the Rebellion.
However, when the Players ask if she'll help them:
“See, now, that's the fun bit. Personally, I hate the Empire. They run around, ruining lives, taxing communities to death, and causing no end of personal conflict with the nonhuman communities. That said, I don't see much reason to aid the Rebellion, either. You claim to have destroyed some “superweapon” near Yavin, and yes, Alderaan was destroyed, but you still haven't done much. Specifically, you've done nothing for me.”
If the Players ask what they can do for her:
“That's more like it. I've got an Imperial problem, in the form of the new commander of the Kendry. He's got a bad habit of poking his nose where it doesn't belong, and if he stumbles across the true extent of my activities on the planet, my problem is going to graduate into a crisis. Digging like this would be as bad for you as it would be for me, especially since I know there's a Rebel cell on the planet, so I propose a trade. You handle Captain Jarvis, and I'll divert a few shipments of food to your cause every now and then. Do we have a deal?”
If the Players agree:
“Good. I think you know the way out. My man in the Jaynesville Police Department tells me that Jarvis should be stopping by today to dig through their records. I'm uploading the location to your datapads now. Find him, and deal with him as you see fit. Good day.”
If the Players refuse:
“Well, I doubt that's your final decision. Feel free to give me a call if you change your mind.”
Lyria taps a button on her computer console, opening the door back into the front office.
When the Players reach the JPD headquarters, they find themselves in front of an old but well-maintained building. There is a regular flow in and out, both of civilians and JPD officers. If they take too long to decide what to do, a police officer approaches them, and speaks in a casual tone.
“Miss Lyria told me you were coming. Jarvis is here already. Fourth floor, records room. Do me a favor and take him quietly; if the other cops engage you on your way out, I can't help you. Here, take these visitors' badges. They'll scan you in to the fourth floor. Good luck.”
The police officer then moves off, leaving the Players to their work. When they enter the station, they find themselves in the usual hustle and bustle of a police station. To their left and right, police officers scan the newcomers for threats, though they let the Players in without a problem. Ahead to the right, officers check in and book new prisoners, and ahead and to the left there seems to be a small but comfortable waiting room for visitors. Directly ahead is the turbolift, and the Players see another visitor hold up his badge to a scanner. After a few blinks of light, the lift opens, and the man steps in.
If the Players already ran through Drug Problems and were captured by the JPD, they must make Cool and Sneak checks to avoid being caught. One failed check creates suspicion. Two failed checks mean they're recognized, and regardless of their actions, must fight their way out of the building.
When the Players reach the fourth floor, they find themselves in a quiet, library-like area, with two small offices at the end. One office has been converted into a sort of lounge, with a caf machine and a small refrigerator. The other office is clearly a reading room...though two Imperial Army troopers stand guard. After a moment, the office door opens, and an Imperial officer (Jarvis!) leans out and speaks to one of the troopers in hushed tones. The trooper then steps next door, fills a cup with caf, and brings it back to Jarvis.
The Players can handle this situation in any manner they see fit, though if they choose to enter the lounge, they immediately roll an average Perception check. If they pass, they see a box of pesticide on the floor in the corner, and if they pass with advantage, the GM may mention that perhaps they could poison Jarvis's caf.
If they poison the caf, they wait for a while, ostensibly reading, and wait for the officer to need more caf. When he does, after five minutes, there is a horrific choking sound from the reading room, and Jarvis stumbles out, clutching at his throat and chest. He dies, with the Army troopers doing their best to tend to him.
If the Players decide to open fire, the Army troopers count as a minion group, and Jarvis will join them in engaging the Players. When the firefight ends, alarms and klaxons sound, and when the Players reach the lobby again, they must fight their way out past two five-man minion groups of police officers.
If the Players decide to attack with melee weapons, they do so with a boost to both their cool check for initiative, and a boost to their melee check, to represent the surprise of the Army troopers. They may then close in on Jarvis himself. If they accomplish this without much noise (at the GMs discretion) they may make a clean getaway. If not, they fight their way out as above.
Either way, once clear of the station and any pursuit, their comlinks ring. It's Lyria.
“I see our man Jarvis has met an unfortunate end. Tragic. There's no need for you to come back here; it might draw undue attention. I'll make the arrangements with your ship myself.”
LUCKY FIND
Once the Players finish Drug Problems, they are left without an obvious source of medical supplies. This is a serious problem for them, and they may go about finding a new source by whatever means they see fit. However, all clues should point to one destination: Heavy Heart Medical Systems. These clues may include seeing medics helping the homeless in the street, wearing HHMS uniforms. They may hear passersby talking about the new medical company. They may see the company mentioned in a local Holonet news feed, or advertised on a wall. Either way, GMS, direct them to Heavy Heart.
When the Players reach Heavy Heart, they should find themselves in front of a newly placed prefab buildings, the edges still sharp and unsmoothed by erosion. Behind the building, there is a small tent city. Walking through the front doors, the Players should see wall posters and holoscreens with pictures of HHMS personnel helping sick people, bringing crates of medical supplies into ravaged communities, or searching rubble for the injured. Off to the right, there is a desk, behind which sits a green Rodian male. He greets them warmly, forming the Galactic Basic words with difficulty.
“Greetings, sentients. Is there something I may help you with? You don't seem as down on your luck as most people we get in here.”
If the Players ask what the facility does:
“Simply put, this is a field hospital. The homeless of this city are too weak to work, even though there are many jobs to be found on the farms and here in town. We nurse them back to health, provide them a place to sleep in safety.”
If the Players ask who's in charge:
“Doctor Khyjeet is the chief medical officer for this facility. I believe he just got back from his shift in the medical tent. Would you like to speak to him?”
If the Players answer in the affirmative:
“Just a moment. Can I get your names, and your business?”
If the Players refuse:
“I don't think the doctor will see you without at least your names.”
If the Players tell the receptionist:
“Thank you. Okay, I've let him know you're here. Should only be a minute.”
After a few minutes, Doctor Khyjeet walks in. He's an extremely tall Duros, his blue skin and red eyes clashing with his white coat. He nods his head in greeting.
“Welcome, sentients. I am Doctor Khyjeet. Please, follow me, so we may discuss your business.”
Khyjeet leads them to his office, actually just through a set of double doors near the receptionist's desk. He sits in his chair, and motions at the Players to do the same.
“So, Akhis tells me you have a business proposition for me. Please, tell me what you have in mind.”
If the Players reveal their allegiance:
“Ah, this explains much. I deplore violence, but I understand better than most the atrocities committed by the Empire. Your Rebellion acts in the best interests of many galactic minorities.”
If the Players are vague:
“I understand the need for some privacy, though I trust you don't represent a pirate band; most of them would just hijack one of our supply ships.
Regardless of the Players' answer:
“However, I'm afraid I cannot help you at the moment. There is so much going wrong with our mission here, I don't imagine we'll last another week. Issues with the food processors could cripple our efforts to feed the homeless. A drug dealer is selling tainted stims to the people we have managed to rescue from the streets. And on top of that, some of the locals are actively sabotaging our generator; without power, we can't operate, and electrical surges could electrocute the occupants of our bacta tanks, so we've had to take them offline as well.”
If the Players offer to help:
“If you managed to solve all those problems for us, I think I could increase the flow of supplies to this facility. Certainly enough to help cover shipload or two a month 'stolen by pirates'. Come see me again when things are better.”
With the Players having been given their next workload, they find themselves with quite a bit to do. They may prioritize the objectives as they wish, or even split the party to accomplish more in less time. Whatever they choose, the different encounters play out as follows.
The food processors are old, probably older than the Players, in fact. A quick lookover finds that the main processor is leaking its product, wasting food and contaminating the machine. A detailed inspection by a mechanic finds that a few basic parts are damaged. A difficult Mechanics check will allow the Players to cobble together a patch, bringing the processor back up to operating condition. Otherwise, the Players will have to find replacement parts. The GM may name specific parts, or “handwave” a grocery list into being. The parts may be found in local stores with a successful easy Streetwise roll, which can be repeated in different stores. If the Players decide to call Winder, he will say that the Revanant's processor, broken anyways, might have the parts the Players need. After a quick inspection and easy Mechanics check, the broken processor will yield the required parts.
The drug dealer is a bit harder to find, and the Players will need to use Streetwise to blend in to the homeless population or Stealth to hide in the shadows and observe. When twilight falls, one of the homeless starts moving from group to group, and with an average Perception check, the players will see money and plastic baggies changing hands. If the Players pursue the purported drug dealer, and take him into custody, the dealer confesses to selling to the homeless, but begs the Players to let him live, offering them his supplier. The dealer proposes a plan under which he is allowed free; he will arrange a meet with the supplier, and the Players may deal with him as they wish. If the Players simply gun down the dealer, the objective is considered achieved, though they miss out on an opportunity to get some money.
The vandals are sneaking in through a concealed hole in the fence. If the Players do a sweep of the fencing, they will stumble across a few weak points, and with a hard Perception check, will even notice that one section flickers periodically: a hologram. Once the Players are set up on the weak points, the GM fast-forwards to nightfall. As the moon passes behind a cloud, the Players, with an average Perception check, will see the vandals enter the encampment, at which point the Players may handle them as necessary. The GM should warn them, however, that the good doctor might not appreciate the spilling of blood in his encampment.
Once the Players achieve their goals, and return to Doctor Khyjeet:
“Thank you, my new friends. The success of our mission rests on your shoulders, and the Rebellion has shown its good will to the less fortunate. Leave the contact details for your ship with me, and I will be happy to assist your cause.”
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
Once the Players have completed their objectives, it's time to head back home, to the 17843. They may return to the Revanant themselves, or if they hesitate, will receive a call from Winder calling them back.
On return to the Revanant:
“Good work, guys. Time to get out of here. Droll will be wondering about our progress, and progress has been good.”
