Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Improbable Cause

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Maiden Mead. It sounded like a drink. Yet it was actually a space station in between the stars.
It catered to just about anything and everything, really, functioning as a waystation for others.
A port to park a starship in, take to rest, for shopping, lodging, before guests go and embark.
Whether their venture was close or far, or even if they’re a resident, it was a place to transfer.

Even if the exchange was merely in spirit, and the spirit was in spirits, like at a bar for drinks.
That’s where one visitor was. She wasn’t a resident. She was just passing through this place.
Maiden Mead. She pursed her lips at it as she sipped on whiskey, neat, gave the bar her gaze.
An establishment beside the port, mainly for patrons coming or going, or whatever the need.

Plenty came through like other space stations too. Maiden. Mead. The name's a bit fancy.
The lady liked it, naturally. A name for a starship, really. She licked her lips at the counter.
Dressed in a tan leather jacket, blue jeans, white sneakers; hand on glass, other on knee.
It was bouncing up and down but she wasn’t nervous. Twitch more than tic as she turned.

A shout from behind. Great. Space racers. A rowdy bunch, maybe in a club, from their race.
One had taken place in this sector, less lethal than a game of Huttball, but death did play.
It was easy to crash if you weren’t paying attention. Then again, the woman lost interest.
Dr. Jayrenel Metrum. She turned her head back to the counter and she craned her neck.

There was no need to check the weather on Maiden Mead, but the news showed misery.
She clicked her teeth. Pirates had raided a nearby cruiser, sparing no one. Kriffing beasts.
“Want another one?” The bartender asked her. “Sure.” She tapped her glass with a finger.
It was half-empty. Or is it half-full? That was a mystery of which she did not care to linger.

Again, Jay turned, first to the left. There’s a Bothan on the stool beside her, watching sports.
To her right was an empty stool, made vacant by an Ithorian who’d left it for another setting.
Folks were always moving to and fro amid a space station. Yonder, gamblers were betting.
Arms raised. Winner. Some won the game. But too many lose. Jay turned toward the door.

Her gaze was roving, searching without purpose, exploring, like a lost fish in a vast ocean.
She had time to kill. She was a doctor on duty as much as off, wasting her time at the bar.
Her ship, Hawthorn, was docked for a short walk. She had arrived just this night—in part.
Day, night, time was much the same in space. Her eyes went wide toward an explosion.

Alarms blared in an instant, yet the boom had not rocked this cantina.
The cacophony was close; sounded like the roar of war or an arena.
An accident, perhaps, but Jay was too busy leaping off of her seat.
An attack? Her breath was a test as her heart leapt, taking to feet.

Moments later and reports flew in about the sudden commotion..
If a bomb had gone off it was at least limited to one compartment.
A room, a tailor’s shop, whose occupants were wounded or dead.
On purpose or an accident, Jay had another concern. “I’m a medic.”

She told the bartender. “A doctor. Let security know I am on the way.”
She didn’t wait for his response as she paid her tab and walked away.
The tailor’s wasn’t far. Jay always came with her purse with its gadgets.
Lipstick, medical equipment. She would flash her badge at the entrance.

Iris Arani Iris Arani
 

Iris_Sig.png

Something went wrong.

Iris was just passing by on her usual shopping endeavors when she heard it. A crash of some kind, just down the path she wasn't on. A speeder launching into oncoming traffic or such. She wasn't too sure, but what she was? She ran right for the problem, leaping across the road to the other side just so she could find the people who were currently in some sort of precarious position. She was a doctor, after all.

There was no hesitating to help people.

Jayrenel Metrum Jayrenel Metrum
 
The local network was already filled with alerts about the explosion that occurred.
The alarm system was turned off, though people were still on the march to observe.
For her part, ‘close’ was relative in a space station, yet the doctor needed no speeder.
The clothing store that had been announced was down the hall and around the corner.

The promenade is what served as a corridor that wound around multiple station floors.
The commercial and service hub had facilities of all kinds, ranging from banks to stores.
It was therefore already busy; foot traffic to rival the grandest shopping mall, even more.
Natural curiosity saw plenty of people heading in the same direction—toward that roar.

Jay was moving quickly, hastening in between the crowds until she found the tailor’s.
Wow. It was all she could think as she took in the scene reminiscent of street activity.
Maiden Mead’s security were quickly responding via guards and ‘do not cross’ barriers.
An audience surrounded them. As Jay hurried closer, things were clearer for her to see.

Whatever had happened in the department store had spilled out into the public walkway.
Station medics were half the height of guards with blasters, given they were crouching.
Blast impact beyond the shop. Attending to the wounded; some were moaning in pain.
Burns on her face. Jay stood just outside a barrier as she observed, started counting.

It was a small handful of victims, two of which were being zipped up in bags. Damn…
Either they were caught in the blast radius or injuries were a result of a vehicle crash.
It was a small speeder, more of a scooter, but was wrecked, its operator lying dead.
Jay gathered all of her details in a matter of seconds. “Ma’am, please stand back.”

The guard suddenly turned toward her from the other side of the ‘no cross’ line.
Jay finally faced the tailor’s shop. It was dark save for flashlights, lamps and sparks.
Streaks of purple electricity could be seen crackling across the ceiling. More medics.
Made sense. That store was where the explosion started. More dead. More wounded.

The woman could do nothing for the former, if help the latter. She’s a doctor, after all.
“Dr. Jayrenel Metrum,” she spoke while holding up an ID; a trained and certified medic.
She didn’t need to be a registered member of their team to answer an emergency call.
“I’m here to help however I can.” Her words were firm, determined; no less empathetic.

The guard turned to his commander who paused, then nodded at both.
The ‘no cross’ line vanished for a moment before again glowing yellow.
Now Jay was on the other side. “Where do you need me?” She asked.
“Outside is covered. Inside is worse.” Jay didn’t wait and walked past.

Iris Arani Iris Arani
 

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