Iron Curtains Cost Money

[Livgardist]

Jaron listened in silence to the other two conversing, having said his piece on the matter. As a decision was made on the course of action they would take, he stood up, and made a gesture towards the exit. "Lead on." He told the duo, leaving it up to them to decide who he was talking to. "Let's hope the Administrator can keep the reporters distracted long enough for us to conduct our business unseen."

 

[Stormthroe]

"I have no doubt in her ability to keep anyone busy," Rymann muttered, before following Khalen into the station corridor. The towering figure moved like a ship's bow through the crowds of the station, the throng of workers and the station's inhabitants breaking before him and moving to either side like the ancient ships of the Old Mandalorians, leaving plenty of space for Jaron and Rymann to follow.

Thanks to Khalen, the walk to the Residential District was a relatively quick one. Rymann spent most of the trip scanning the crowd; it was clear that talk of their presence on the shipyard had quickly been passed around between the builders and scientists, as suspicious glances happened to meet his eye every once in a while before being hidden. It was amusing to the young Mandalorian; rarely did he see such timidity among his own people, and he'd become so accustomed to the militaristic behavior among the Protectors, Border Alliance, and House members that it struck him as strange.

"These Abheans act as if we are some sort of scandal," he leaned in, muttering to Jaron. If Khalen's senses were as good as the other creatures sharing his features, then he was sure to hear as well.

The three Defiant soldiers continued to move uninterrupted, and eventually they came into an area of the district that seemed to be more minimal than the others; it wasn't dirty, but compared to some of the polished durasteel corridors they'd past through, refuse was more common and there was an almost dingy smell coming from the air ducts. Khalen's datapad bleeped twice, before displaying an apartment number for the hab-stack it'd led them to, supposedly the home of Beema Karada.

"Not exactly the type of place I'd see a top researcher living in," mused Rymann, looking around with a bit of a scrunched nose. The area around them was significantly less populated than the corridor's they'd taken to get there, seeing as most of the workers were on-shift. "Guess we let ourselves in?"

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Administrator Adara bit back a response as the white-haired man misspoke her name and had his crew begin to move into her station. She quickly regained her poise, gesturing for her security detail to follow behind the crew to make sure none of them wandered off, then took the lead, matching stride with the reporting team and guiding them into the busy corridor outside the hangar bays.

"Of course, Mr...," she began, before waving away the man as he had not provided his name. "Allow me to lead you to the dry-dock. The vista-port overlooking our assembly areas will perhaps allow for the best shot of our industries, and would make for an excellent interview location. It is a bit of a walk, though, so please feel free to question me as we move."

The Administrator broke the crowd as she moved, leaving little room for the camera crew behind her as they began to move through the station. She was sure they had had practice moving their bulky equipment regardless of their surroundings.

"The Abhean stations are rather expansive, with nearly the entire staff living on-station; each is a self-operating city in addition to an industrial factory, with all the amenities you'd find within a surface-bound facility. Our residential districts allow for housing of most of our employees, and an entire commercial center to allow for recreational activities and purchase of consumer goods just as if we were a functioning city. Unlike many other companies, our commercial district is operated independently of the Abhean government's interests, and we do not have any return aside from the rental prices and operating costs of the merchants who operate on station. We will pass through this district on our way to the dry-docks, before moving through our research facilities, where dozens of projects are in various states of completion for contracts from across the galaxy."

The Administrator smiled politely, before continuing on, leading the crew from the corridor of the hangar bays into the cargo yard.

"This district is one of two districts entirely devoted to cargo and shipping; most of these crates contain the raw materials required to keep our shipyards running, in addition to the supplies necessary for the station's upkeep and the day-to-day needs of our employees," Administrator Adara gestured to the flux of shipping containers, loading droids, and various bodies that swarmed around them, moving cargo from each of the independent docks in both directions.

"In an effort to maintain security, our customs are kept rather strict; every order is tracked and monitored by a rigorous check system along with inspection by a team of highly skilled members of my station security. This is due to both the risks associated with operating a facility with ties to several militaries, and to prevent as much illegal activity on station as possible. This is standard practice among stations similar to ours across much of the galaxy, of course, so of no interest to you I'm sure. Let us be on our way."

 

[Krajin]

"Well, to be fair.. judging by the way you two are walking, carrying what you are and basically you positively scream Soldiers. Its no wonder they treat you as a scandal. No subtley. No.. like me! I feel like I am being escorted to a Mandalorian Wedding by the Father and the oldest Brother here! Making sure I don't do a runner." He'd grin as he overheard their conversation. "All rigid and professional. There's no relaxed demeanour." He adds. Upon entering the Residential Hub for the personnel that lived on station. It was a spartan thing, lacking in allot of decoration and vibrancy, the emotional level in this place was just a little on the dead side of things.

Hunting for the door after checking his Datapad on the door number Khalen grabbed the card and walked on up to the electronic key, gave a swipe and headed inside. The room was rather nicely decorated in comparison to the spartan exterior, it had a very family orientated feel to it that made the apartment feel like there was actual personality to it rather than dull cream to white of the halls outside. It was a little on the small side but what more could you need for an apartment on a massive station like this? Off to the left, back there was the kitchenette with what could be a bar for dining at and to the right lead into the Wash room and latrine and beyond that was the Bedroom. "Alrighty! I think we should start here! Look around, be gentle and don't break anything or mess it up to much? Don't want a nasty scandal coming in or seeing one of you running around with traditional Rodian woman clothes now." He said with a smile, the Trianii loved to create an air of entertainment than one with enough tension in it that you could cut it with a vibro blade. There were pictures on the walls, paintings of a family in different stages of life from young children to adults. One figure becoming starkly absent as well.

Khalen went for the terminal she had in her room and settled down infront of it. Opening it up and began to go through various logs, personal and professional. His Datapad was plugged into the side with a search program running, allowing him to hunt for hidden files, entries that contained particular phrases, key words and the like to help find and root out any information he could get!

 

[Sangga]

He allowed himself a half smirk as the Administrator moved ahead of his team, he absent-mindedly twirled a finger as his arms were crossed. They'd broadcast everything if need be, the Ithorian moved a little less agile than most, but it 'clumsily' fumbled with the camera and set it back in position. The footage would lack the charisma of Miss Olan for a while, but he'd get her back. For now the administrator would be the star. He nodded at her plans to take them to the dry dock, not wishing to be recorded saying anything. he only went out on film or audio when it benefited the company.

As they began to move through the crowd, he began to see an opportunity. Even on this remote, self-sufficient station they'd seen or heard Ghista Olan and her celebrity status was certainly attracting attention. He winked at Ghista, then nodded to the crowd of on-lookers. She stroked her right lekku and then tugged the Administrator's arm. "Adara, could we just stop for a moment? I'd like to sign a few autographs and talk to the people of this station. As much as your work is what we're here to see, the unsung heroes are of course the workforce here!"

"Make sure you keep the camera on this exchange." This would be a tell-tale moment, the stress of the situation, the relationship of the management and their staff. How popular Miss Olan was with the public was self-evident. A lot of them were scrabbling for pieces of paper. When Ghista pulled out a few copies of her photo and began signing and talking the usual hearts and minds questions, they almost scrambled over one another.

He sunk back into the rabble and caught the glare of a woman, she seemed to be from the Core Worlds. What was her story, the glare then traversed to the Administrator and it intensified. He slipped his way through the crowd and made it to the woman. "Rix Paige, Czerka News Network" Her glare dissipated, as if the introduction calmed a hatred, but her glance back to the Administrator showed it was not ousted. She didn't appear to be with anyone.