Post by nabi on Aug 3, 2007 1:31:15 GMT -5
Prisons are rarely fun places. With galactic opinion currently favoring punishment over attempts at reform, most planetary governments had decided that the places they built were going to be tough. They were going to be fearful. They were going to look just a little bit unhygienic. And they were going to be big. All the better to scare the inmates into compliance for their stay if they were petty offenders, or keep them under control until they were transported to the larger planetary penal colonies. Such facilities were often in physically remote or dangerous areas, such as deep underwater, inside of planetary lava flows, or held over oceans via suspensor fields.
So when Ilal told his students that they were going to do one last exercise with sick prisoners, they were a little surprised when they saw the Galactic Republic’s first prison dedicated to processing Seperatist prisoners.
It looked like a shopping mall.
A very secure shopping mall, to be sure. The transparisteel exteriors had been replaced with blocks of duracrete, the grounds were layered with sensor installations and the odd blaster turret, and there was no longer the little holo-map proclaiming “You are here.” But the outside was mainly pink and purple plasteel girders, and Ilal knew from previous experience that the guards barracks was still known under the name Bothan Bargain Bin.
He met his guide, a Wookie with short, graying hair and a permanently peevish look in his eyes, at the entrance. Ilal wondered how he could function as a guard since, being a Wookie, it would be almost impossible for him to speak Basic. He stopped wondering, as a small, pink-colored Rodian came forward and spoke, in an unusually gentle hiss “Passes, please.”
The students fumbled around in their robes and brought out their passes, while the Rodian compared them to the holographic images provided by the Order. The students were exhausted, and were looking forward to getting this last test over with, so they could accompany Ilal on actual missions. After brushing a quick look over their passes, the Wookie let them through. Ilal thanked him warmly. He knew Bilad Al-Sham personally and also knew it wasn’t easy for him working here. Eating with his colleagues, he was often ribbed about working at a mall; many kept asking him if they had anyone locked up in Women’s Shoes.
After a brief scan with a handheld device at the front desk, the tired looking group was let in and given their assignments.
The Republic had just fought a relatively significant battle with the Seperatist forces, and had managed to take a number of the enemy captive. All these prisoners were wounded, of low to middling rank in the field, and were in possibly possession of low-level tactical information that might be useful to the Republic. The really important ones had been sequestered elsewhere on-world, but Ilal had garnered the right to use these lower-level detainees as practice for his pupils. Republic Intelligence had gone along with it. The Seperatists had as of yet rarely told their low-level people anything at all until the last minute, so the risk of vital intelligence being lost was quite low. All the same, holocams would record each session for review by Ilal and Republic Intelligence, for evaluation and follow-up. If things went wrong, a Debriefer would be sent to work with the offending student, to maintain a sense of continuity.
The Master Healer saw the need for this, but was still a bit hesitant about Republic Intelligence. He had called in one of their best recruiters to watch the students and give suggestions about how you could recruit a prospect, break down resistance, or cultivate those close to them. The being was a Sullustan, and while he had been more than happy to “professionalize” Ilal’s band of Healers, Ilal had only been able to keep him happy by promising to place his family crest in the unit’s insignia.
The fact of the matter was that the Grandmaster of the Order was basically running the program on a probationary basis while the Council debated the whole concept of Jedi Commando teams. Being a new leader, Hanaac was wary of alienating Council members too early in the process, and was taking his time to warm the members up to the idea. The Council had acquiesced to a “tentative trial testing” of Hanaac’s operational concept, but support was still fragile, and the debate intense by Jedi standards. The “testing” as it was called, was all ran out of Hanaac’s office, given the funding and personal seal of the Grandmaster, but not the support personnel or endorsement of the whole of the Order. Hanaac had promised that it would go well, and that Ilal himself, “the greatest Healer our Order knows” would be in charge of the Medics Section. Ilal had blushed more than a little at hearing that, and even more when Hanaac had put his arm around him in a gesture of camaraderie after the meeting.
The good part of all this was that Ilal was able to run the program himself, with a large training budget and access to virtually any Republic facility needed. The bad part was that to convince the Order of the viability of the Commando Concept (as it was becoming known), Ilal would only be allowed a small intake of students, decreased training time, and a minimum of staff. What was supposed to be a course lasting a total of seven standard months was shortened to four. Four classes of fifty students each turned into one group of twenty-five. Ilal was forced to work them day and night, with only an hour or two of sleep per day. The Human was able to bear the burden relatively easily, but his colleagues were not as strong in the Force as he was and he had to watch them for any signs of passing out. Ali had learned this the hard way, after Damascene, one of his more gifted pupils, fell asleep mid-sentence during an interrogation.
It was with her, a small, dark-skinned Trasdoshan that Ilal had decided to work with during this last exercise. Damascene was enthusiastic, bright….and annoyingly peppy, despite (or perhaps because of) her lack of sleep.
Ilal walked into the room, with Damascene behind him. Little data had been available on it’s occupant, a grayish skinned, cranky looking Barabel who was cradling his hand. He peered lightly into the being’s mind, just enough to see the name.
“Nahi Munkar, I presume?”
So when Ilal told his students that they were going to do one last exercise with sick prisoners, they were a little surprised when they saw the Galactic Republic’s first prison dedicated to processing Seperatist prisoners.
It looked like a shopping mall.
A very secure shopping mall, to be sure. The transparisteel exteriors had been replaced with blocks of duracrete, the grounds were layered with sensor installations and the odd blaster turret, and there was no longer the little holo-map proclaiming “You are here.” But the outside was mainly pink and purple plasteel girders, and Ilal knew from previous experience that the guards barracks was still known under the name Bothan Bargain Bin.
He met his guide, a Wookie with short, graying hair and a permanently peevish look in his eyes, at the entrance. Ilal wondered how he could function as a guard since, being a Wookie, it would be almost impossible for him to speak Basic. He stopped wondering, as a small, pink-colored Rodian came forward and spoke, in an unusually gentle hiss “Passes, please.”
The students fumbled around in their robes and brought out their passes, while the Rodian compared them to the holographic images provided by the Order. The students were exhausted, and were looking forward to getting this last test over with, so they could accompany Ilal on actual missions. After brushing a quick look over their passes, the Wookie let them through. Ilal thanked him warmly. He knew Bilad Al-Sham personally and also knew it wasn’t easy for him working here. Eating with his colleagues, he was often ribbed about working at a mall; many kept asking him if they had anyone locked up in Women’s Shoes.
After a brief scan with a handheld device at the front desk, the tired looking group was let in and given their assignments.
The Republic had just fought a relatively significant battle with the Seperatist forces, and had managed to take a number of the enemy captive. All these prisoners were wounded, of low to middling rank in the field, and were in possibly possession of low-level tactical information that might be useful to the Republic. The really important ones had been sequestered elsewhere on-world, but Ilal had garnered the right to use these lower-level detainees as practice for his pupils. Republic Intelligence had gone along with it. The Seperatists had as of yet rarely told their low-level people anything at all until the last minute, so the risk of vital intelligence being lost was quite low. All the same, holocams would record each session for review by Ilal and Republic Intelligence, for evaluation and follow-up. If things went wrong, a Debriefer would be sent to work with the offending student, to maintain a sense of continuity.
The Master Healer saw the need for this, but was still a bit hesitant about Republic Intelligence. He had called in one of their best recruiters to watch the students and give suggestions about how you could recruit a prospect, break down resistance, or cultivate those close to them. The being was a Sullustan, and while he had been more than happy to “professionalize” Ilal’s band of Healers, Ilal had only been able to keep him happy by promising to place his family crest in the unit’s insignia.
The fact of the matter was that the Grandmaster of the Order was basically running the program on a probationary basis while the Council debated the whole concept of Jedi Commando teams. Being a new leader, Hanaac was wary of alienating Council members too early in the process, and was taking his time to warm the members up to the idea. The Council had acquiesced to a “tentative trial testing” of Hanaac’s operational concept, but support was still fragile, and the debate intense by Jedi standards. The “testing” as it was called, was all ran out of Hanaac’s office, given the funding and personal seal of the Grandmaster, but not the support personnel or endorsement of the whole of the Order. Hanaac had promised that it would go well, and that Ilal himself, “the greatest Healer our Order knows” would be in charge of the Medics Section. Ilal had blushed more than a little at hearing that, and even more when Hanaac had put his arm around him in a gesture of camaraderie after the meeting.
The good part of all this was that Ilal was able to run the program himself, with a large training budget and access to virtually any Republic facility needed. The bad part was that to convince the Order of the viability of the Commando Concept (as it was becoming known), Ilal would only be allowed a small intake of students, decreased training time, and a minimum of staff. What was supposed to be a course lasting a total of seven standard months was shortened to four. Four classes of fifty students each turned into one group of twenty-five. Ilal was forced to work them day and night, with only an hour or two of sleep per day. The Human was able to bear the burden relatively easily, but his colleagues were not as strong in the Force as he was and he had to watch them for any signs of passing out. Ali had learned this the hard way, after Damascene, one of his more gifted pupils, fell asleep mid-sentence during an interrogation.
It was with her, a small, dark-skinned Trasdoshan that Ilal had decided to work with during this last exercise. Damascene was enthusiastic, bright….and annoyingly peppy, despite (or perhaps because of) her lack of sleep.
Ilal walked into the room, with Damascene behind him. Little data had been available on it’s occupant, a grayish skinned, cranky looking Barabel who was cradling his hand. He peered lightly into the being’s mind, just enough to see the name.
“Nahi Munkar, I presume?”