The Colonel is, it seems, away from the base on pre-planned business, with security measures in place to prevent his location being discovered, and possibly leaked to the spy behind the sabotage on Defiance Base, and the compromising of several missions.

Of course, at the time he left, he had no idea that the spy was the freighter pilot, Volan Reise.  But that news can wait until he gets back, and in the meantime, the base's security team have been alerted.

Things seem to settle down, and for two days all is normal.  There are no further missions, with Kourene away, and the Alliance personnel get some much needed downtime-  Time to relax, maintain equipment, train...

Of course it doesn't last.

In the middle of the second night, security personnel are dispatched to wake a number of individuals across the base and quietly summon them to an emergency meeting in the main Briefing Room.

When they arrive, they find the room crowded.  It looks like most of the base's field operatives and fighter pilots are present...

Rhijans noticed the familiar faces in the room and drifted through the growing crowd to get close to his team.  "If I was a betting man, I'd put money down that Reise is somehow behind this..." he growled, barely audible over the murmur of voices in the room.

Haarmon nodded, eyes bleary with sleep but his mouth set in a sour line. "Behind. Around. All over. How many of these guys weren't even cleared by Kourene? I don't like any of this."

The buzz of conversation grows louder, as more people enter the room.  Mostly speculation about what might be going on...

And then the noise dwindles to total silence as two of men enter the room and move to the front.  Neither is Kourene.  They aren't even senior aides or advisors.  One is about eighth or ninth in the chain of command on the base, the other is Lieutenant Arisis, the current head of base security.

Arisis is first to speak.  "Sorry to drag you in in the middle of the night, I know some of you were still catching up on your sleep after the recent problems, but it's a real emergency."

"Two hours ago one of our comm arrays picked up a signal, very weak and heavily encoded, which got our attention immediately.  We spent some time decoding it, then verifying that we had done it correctly, and that the message was genuine.  I took the resulting message the senior officer currently on Defiance Base."  He nods towards the other man, "Major Trinoko immediately decided to call this meeting."

He activates a hidden holoprojector, and a man's face appears, about three times larger than life, in the air above him.  The face is bloody, and when he speaks, the man's voice is weak and laced with pain.  The recording itself is prone to fading in and out at random intervals.

"... Gorto Finn...  The ship has been... "  There is loud report in the background, and for a moment the hologram dissolves in static before stabilising again.  "Imperials have cap... passengers, trying to ... flight logs.  Computer is booby tra... only a few seconds left.  We are in Orakanin syst... " and the recording ends in a flare of white light...

For a few seconds Arisis and Trinoko are silent, then the Major speaks, "We have to assume, from that, that Colonel Kourene and his senior staff are now in Imperial hands.  This, of course, means that we need to evacuate the base.  While I don't believe any of them would deliberately betray the location of Defiance Base, we all know that the Imperials are a little too fond of using interrogation droids."

"While the evacuation is under way, the people in this room will have other important tasks to perform."

Juragga wailed in distress, clamping his furry paws to his head and keening in dismay.

Rhijans stood up.  "I'm assuming you're intending to send a team to Orakanin to try and locate, and rescue if possible, the Colonel.  We volunteer."  He looked around and added, "We'll need a ship to get there.  And I'm not volunteering to wave anyone else off.  But we're best used in the field."

"Void."

Shard's eyes close as Juragga's misery washes over the room.  Reaching out, she locks her fingers on his forearm and squeezes through the fur as Rhijans stands to offer the group.  No surprise there, not for Rhijans and not for their group.  And no disagreement.

"We've got this, Juragga," she states, climbing to her feet in turn to stand beside the grey-skinned hunter.  There's no need to speak up for the crowd - with his customary ice-sheet efficiency, Rhijans has covered the essentials.  "Haarmon, start thinking about what you need.  Same deal, Juragga.  I imagine we're going to get free reign to choose, but we're also going to need to do it fast."

The bottom fell out of Haarmon's chest and his heart leaped into his throat. He knew, intellectually, that this was a dangerous, dirty business, but there were some people, they just had that glow around them,  that sense of implacability. People that you met and knew, you just knew that they were always going to make it out okay. Rhijans had it. That pilot, Karja, had it. And void-curse it, Kourene had it.

Hearing he was captured, and maybe worse, put a serious dent in Haarmon's faith in a rational universe.

He took a step closer to Juragga. The big guy wasn't much for Stoicism. If he had an opinion, generally you hear about it. He put a hand on his other arm. "Yeah, Rags, like the lady says, we got this. Eye on the prize, right? And all the Imp heads you can bust."

He felt a swell of pride when Rhijans volunteered them for the mission. "Heck, yes, we volunteer."

And nodding at Shard, he ran off to acquisitions, making a list in his head. He didn't need much.

Other voices were raised around the room.  Other people standing, raising their hands to volunteer...

Trinoko spreads his own hands in a placatory gesture, "I believe we can satisfy all of you.  It is our intention to involve as many people in this operation as are prepared to volunteer.  We will need reconnaissance of Orakanin, followed by an assault on whichever ship or facility is holding the Colonel.  This will involve both field operatives and a fighter group."

"Transport pilots have already been selected  in order to ensure that we have enough ships for this, which we do.  It is our intention to send a number of teams to locate the Colonel.  Once his position is determined a smaller number of teams, perhaps even one, will stage a rescue.  The other teams will, meanwhile, conduct widespread sabotage, fighter assaults, and other diversionary operations to keep the Imperial forces distracted, and off balance while the rescue goes ahead."

"As of now, volunteers have thirty minutes to collect whatever equipment they think they'll need and report to the hangar for ship assignment."

Rhijans scowled at the announcement.  "Right," he growled under his breath.  "Thirty minutes to put together all the gear you want to carry into a totally unknown situation.  What could possibly go wrong with that?"

He glanced around the room, making a quick assay of which transport pilots were present, and if he knew any of them.  Assignments were apparently already made, so he likely wouldn't be able to request anyone...but he liked knowing who he was going into trouble with.

As he did that, he turned to face his group.  "Time to put together a shopping list, I guess.  Anyone have suggestions?"

Juragga took comfort from his friends - Shard and Haarmon's reassurances, and Rhijan's volunteering for action.  He roared in agreement as the rest of the team signed on for the rescue.

When asked what he would need, a wicked gleam appeared in his teal eyes.  "GrrrAAAAAAAAAAhhhhr," he said.  Thermal detonators.  Lots of them.

Other than that, the Wookiee would rely on his steady bowcaster and brute strength, as always.

One other thought did occur to him.

"HUHHHHHrrrrmmmffff," he added.  Medical equipment, including drugs to counter-act interrogation drugs the Impies might have plowed the Colonel with.

Shard winces.  Twice.  Once at Juragga's roar, but not without a smile.  The second time with his first suggestion. "Our planner here -" with a jerk of the thumb toward the Wookie "- wants thermal detonators.  Plural.  Which, on reflection, is probably a good idea.  Secondly, he figures some medical drugs for the Colonel - plus stuff to counter whatever they've pumped into him - is a good idea as well."

She sucks in a breath. "I figure, go with your strengths.  If you know explosives, get them. If you're comfy in armor, get that.  If you can shoot a heavier blaster - well - grab one of those.  Don't hold back, but don't go with anything you can't use."

Her twitch of the lips might be another smile, sharp and broken as her name.  "Me?  Maybe a blaster carbine for longer range stuff - void help us if we need my contribution - and a first aid kit.  Anything else will be too much.  I'll leave that kind of thing to the professionals." That last said with a significant glance to Haarmon and Rhijans himself.

Her and Juragga?  They were the generalists of the group, along for support and firepower.

As Rhijans looks around the room he spots a group of freighter pilots near the back.  Reldan Jalt is among them, deep in conversation with two other men.

The team discuss their needs for the mission, the details of which are, as yet, unknown.  Around them, other teams are doing the same, and gradually making their way towards the exit.

A familiar golden form is making his way towards them, against the flow of the crowd...

Rhijans nodded as he located Jalt, but the discussion within the group stopped him from going over to talk to the pilot.  He looked at the Wookiee, and again, that almost-a-smile crept to his eyes.

"I like the way you think.  We should take grenades, as well, because detonators might have a little too much collateral damage, depending on the situation."  He turned to look at Shard, adding, "Think we should probably keep the armor on the light side...if we find Imperial troops, we're going to get more advantage out of mobility and flexibility than we will trying to stand and fight it out toe-to-toe."

His eyes returned to the sight of the protocol droid struggling through the crowd, and he commented, "We should also see what You-Why might have in the way of helpful information.  Not something I'd expect from a protocol droid in this situation...but he keeps turning up with all kinds of helpful surprises, lately..."  He made his way toward the droid, moving easily with the crowd, until he was close enough to converse normally.  He stopped, resisting the flow of the crowd around him, acting as a kind of breakwater for the less-agile protocol droid.

Haarmon looks a little stricken with all this talk of explosives and fighting it out toe-to-toe. He was more of a turning heel kind of guy than he was a toe-to-toe kind of guy.

"All I really need is my terminal. I get much more fancy than that and I'm likely to cause more problems than I solve. But I'll take all the armour I can."

He does nod at mention of You-Why. That driod had some moxie. He was creepy, but useful.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Mon 18 Jan 2016.

You-Why stops in front of Rhijans, and turns awkwardly to watch the flow of people leaving the room.  Then his glowing eyes meet Rhijans' obsidian ones, and the droid says, "Sir... it looks as though a lot of people are setting out to rescue the Colonel.  I was in the Quartermaster's Store translating for a pair of Trandoshans who came in to requisition a new thrust compression mani... ah, but that is, of course, irrelevant.  In any case, I came to tell you that there is little point in going there to requisition equipment, as most of these people seem to be planning on doing."

"As I understand it," he looks around and lowers his voice, "Major Trinoko has already ordered that a large amount of equipment be set aside, and has his own staff dividing it into packages tailored for specific missions.  When you, and everybody else, arrive at the hangar, the Major will assign each team a mission, and issue them with the appropriate package."

"It all appears well organised."

And then he pauses and heaves an electronic sigh.

"With the exception that the Major has not seen fit to include an individual with my obvious capability to play a role in espionage and reconnaissance.  A terrible slight on my talents. I might add."

Rhijans nodded.  "Don't take it too personally...generally, protocol droids aren't known for their expertise in espionage.  You aren't exactly the typical droid."  Again, the cryptic almost-grin touched his face for just a moment.  It faded in a mild scowl.

"Why would they tell us to put together a list if they were just going to assign us gear?" he mused aloud.  It didn't matter that much to him...he would adapt tactics to whatever he had available.  But Haarmon couldn't count on stumbling across gear for slicing an Imperial security network.  He thought for a moment.  "Might not be a bad idea to see what critical gear we can get before we head down for our assignment.  Weapons and such, I'm sure they'll distribute..."

He looked over at Haarmon.  "Not so sure they'll think of less-conventional options to equip the teams, though...if these are standard military or security people, they're never going to consider soft-options for an attack team."

"Don't worry, You-Why."  Shard reaches out to tap the droid's shoulder, pauses, and withdraws her hand.  For all she knows, he finds such contact offensive and patronizing, and it's better to be polite. "You've been cursed useful on missions, so unless Rhijans or anyone else on the team has a problem with it, I'd prefer to take you along."

She shrugs.  "Our mission, and you're one of the team.  So unless you have orders to the contrary, I say you're with us."

"And I'm with Rhijans," she continues. "We need to make sure we have stuff beyond the norm.  If you've got what you need, Haarmon, fantastic.  And no, I don't think the Quartermaster has a you-know-what," she quickly continues with a warning look.  "But...if anyone does have ideas, we'd better get them to someone with the oomph to make sure we get what we need, quickly."

She purses her lips.  "I don't much like the idea about being assigned work, though.  Means we might not get sent out after the colonel.  Would be crazy, given we've been running the investigation, but you never know."

Juragga growled his opinion on the idea of being sent off to do anything other than rescue the Colonel.  It was basically unprintable.

He warbled the hope that the items he'd requested would be included in their gear - explosives, and drugs for the Colonel.

And lastly, he expressed typical Wookiee impatience for all this standing around gabbing.  He wanted to be on their way, and of course, shoot something.

"Maybe he was referring to personal equipment." Reldan Jalt has finished his conversation with the other pilots, and comes up behind the group while they are talking, "I know it'll come as a shock, but not everybody wears their blasters and body armour around the base.  So people need to make sure they have theirs, then get given the rest of the stuff they need by the Major.  Like Dak there... I bet the Quartermaster's got nothing like what he's scraped together himself."

Jalt grins cheerfully.  "You need to get a move on though, or all the good missions and pilots will be gone.  You don't want to be stuck doing the paperwork for the team that's sent to rescue the Colonel."

"Me, I have an interesting job to do, but I don't know which team'll be assigned to it yet.  Bantha's never seen the inside of an Imperial hangar before, and it'll be fun shooting up the place from the inside."

"Void, Jalt, it's good to see you." Shard grabs his forearm.  "You're right, we need to run.  But you, if that's the plan you'd better keep yourself safe.  I want to see you and the Bantha again." Her eyes sharpen for a moment as her voice drops.  "Stay alive," Shard hisses.

Then she's moving for the door.  "Catch you when it's done, Jalt.  We'll grab a drink, all of us."

Rhijans shrugged.  There was more than a hint of a smile when Jalt spoke about shooting up an Imperial hangar...but whether that was anticipation for the pilot or reliving some memory of his own (since he had wrought considerable damage on an Imperial installation or two), no one could say for certain...probably not even him.

"You're right.  Let's go see about our special requests.  I can go pester them about wanting to go after Kourene, the rest of you see what you can scare up in the way of armaments and rescue gear.  Explosives with remote detonators would be a good option, as well...even better if they can be set for either timer or remote trigger."  He looked to the protocol droid.

"You-Why, your choice...you can go arm-twisting with me to see if we can land the prime mission, or you can help the others chase down gear."  He paused and looked at the rest of the group for a beat.

"That is, if everyone's okay with proceeding in that direction."  His tone made it clear that he felt it was the best way to go...but he also seemed, whether by expression or by body language, to convey that he didn't want to be a dictator on the subject.

Haarmon nods. "Yeah, yeah. That sounds like the thing. Division of labour and all that. In fact, I'll go with you and Golden Undies over there. To help with the arm-wrestling. You're a scary guy, Rhijans but this might just call for some high-pitched wheedling. And I'm fine for gear so long as I can drop by my quarters before we go. And Rags and Shard both know better then me what's needed anyway."

He looks up at Juragga and Shard, reading the weather in the faces there. He didn't want either of them to think he was bailing, or giving orders. Rags because he was his best bestie. Shard for more complicated reasons. And then to Rhjans to make sure the invincible tech ninja did't mind the punk kid inviting himself along to his party.

"That cool? You guys good chasing swag?"

Jalt nods sd he is greeted by various individuals, then says, "You might be pushed for thermal detonators and demo charges - I've got some people loading a couple of cases of each onto the Bantha.  That's why I'm over here, they got fed up with me telling them to be careful every three seconds and had an officer ask me to leave.  Whichever team gets assigned to the Bantha will be going out loaded for rancor."

Moving out in ones and twos, the team goes off to gather whatever they can for the mission...

Rhijans got a calculating look in his eye at the statement, but said nothing.  There were, as far as he could tell, two options for getting in...go in yard and fast and hope to bowl over any Imperial forces before they got a chance to fully mobilize, or sneak in on a captured Imperial vessel and THEN have the heat applied to create chaos for the retrieval team.

If the Alliance forces didn't have an old Imperial ship handy, that meant they were stuck with Option A.  But if there was a B option, he didn't want to miss being on the retrieval team.  "Let's go find out what they've got in mind for us...and make our case, if it's not what we want."

The hangar is even busier than usual.  Ships are having supplies loaded, and groups of field operatives are looking around for the transports that will carry them to Orakanin.  Some of them are involved in heated discussions with Trinoko's people regarding the missions and ships they've assigned.

"You want us to what?"

"Why can't we go after the Colonel instead of doing this?"

"You're mad if you think we'll sit by while those nerf-herders take the real objective!"

One of Trinoko's subordinates approaches Rhijans and the others, a datapad in hand.  He checks their names against a list, with a nod.  "You've been assigned to Dancing Bantha, with Redan Jalt.  Follow me please."

Jalt is leaning against the landing gear as they approach, and gives them a grin, as the officer continues, "As Captain Jalt already knows, this is going to be a diversionary mission.  The goal is to keep the imperials at Orakanin so busy that they won't realise that anybody is making a move on the Colonel until its too late."

"Captain Jalt will attempt to... fly suspiciously... " a broad smile from both Jalt and the officer, "and get his ship captured, with you concealed aboard."

"Once at an Imperial ship or other facility, your job will be to cause as much damage and general mayhem as possible, up to and including the destruction of the Imperial vessel or base, before making your escape.

"We have provided a supply of demolition charges and thermal detonators to aid in this objective.  As a secondary objective, you are to access the local computer network and obtain whatever data you can on Imperial deployment at Orakanin and, if possible, the Colonel's whereabouts."

"Captain Jalt knows what needs to be done with that data, and his astromech unit will assist you in completing your mission objectives."

The Wookiee complains.  Loudly.

Rhijans' face darkened for a moment...but he didn't know many of the other operatives that were available.  And he also knew his team.  Chaos and destruction, they were good at.  Information retrieval?  One of their strong points.

And Jalt was just crazy enough that, if they found the information and were in the right position, he'd potentially fly them in to help with the extraction.

He understood Juragga's tone, if not the specifics of the complaints, but he put a hand on the Wookiee's arm.  "We'd hoped for the retrieval mission, of course."  He was speaking to their escort, but he turned to face the rest of the group.  "But this is what we do best."  His voice was firm, confident.

He turned back to the security officer giving them their assignment.  "Don't suppose you thought to include anything to help us blend in when we get into whatever Imperial location?  Trooper armor, officers' uniforms, maintenance crew outfits?  Anything?  Running around and blowing stuff up was one thing...but it was so much easier if the enemy couldn't recognize you on first sight.  Even better if you could hide right in the middle of them and use their movements to mask your own.

It wasn't as if they hadn't brought such gear back from previous missions, after all...

Shard, having agreed with Haarmon and Rhijans, has headed off to see what she can dig up at the Quartermaster's.  Arriving, she puts in a request for demolition charges, time-delay and remote fuses, First Aid gear, basic armor...blaster carbines...

OOC - It's a short post, but I'm running late here and I'm not sure what I'll find.  The original plan was for Shard (and possibly Juragga, though not necessary) to go to the Quartermaster's.

I'm pretty sure I'll find lineups around the block, so I'm waiting for GM comment on it.  :)

Basically looking for helmets (+1 Armor with no penalty?  I'll take it!), basic armor (if possible) for those who want it, blaster carbines for everyone but Juragga, the demo charges, first aid kits...well, it's mostly up there, right?  :D
This message was last edited by the player at 13:22, Mon 11 Jan 2016.

The security officer nods, smiling.  "We've included Imperial Fleet uniforms, techs mostly, with the other supplies, though we don't have anything that'll fit him." and he nods in Juragga's direction.  "Then agaim, I'm not sure that putting a Wook in an Imperial uniform would be that good a disguise."

In the Quartermaster's Stores, there are a lot of people shouting.  Mostly at the two clerks trying to run the place, though a few seem to be threatening each other.  Behind the clerks, the shelves are, very obviously, mostly empty.

When Shard finally makes it to the desk, the clerk looks at her and shakes his head.  "Can't help you.  Some security types came in and requisitioned everything worth having for this big mission.  They're handing it all out themselves, over in the hangar, and only to people who need it for whatever task they've been assigned."

"E...everything?"  Somehow Shard holds in a volley of expletives; it's hardly this man's fault, and she's absolutely certain he's been hollered at all morning. "Thanks.  Appreciate the information." She manages a strained smile.  "Keep your head down."

Then she's on her way back toward the hanger, flicking her team comm as she walks.

+ Everyone, I sure hope that you're getting something at the ship, because the Stores are empty.  This place is the Void, now. +

Rhijans nodded.  "We've had to find our ways of making him fit in with the group when we're operating behind the lines...we'll manage."  He paused, and then added, totally deadpan, "Besides, I'm not sure anyone would survive trying to put Imperial clothing on him."

His commlink chirped, with Shard's message, and he was quick to respond.

+  All good.  Jalt's our ride...it's not the mission we wanted, but it's a good alternative.  Meet us at the Dancing Bantha and we'll bring you up to speed.

Juragga quieted, but looked surly.  Basically, he was sulking.

"You'll also find spare power cells for your weapons, and we want you to use this, if you get a chance."  The officer holds out a roughly fist sized cube, with a number of different connectors and adapters attached to one side.

"Basically, if you plug this into an Imperial computer after you've got what you want out of it, it will disrupt the entire network, and leave traces that will point to Hutt involvement."

At that, Rhijans did break into a smile...an unpleasant one that hinted at being pleased for a variety of dark reasons.  "Oh, you can bet we'll make sure we get a chance to use that," he said.  Even if it ended up being a last gesture of defiance if everything went wrong...

The smile faded as he turned to Dak.  "Good enough for you?" he asked.  He knew Juragga wasn't thrilled with the mission...he wasn't, himself, but it did seem to fit pretty well with their typical operating style.  Shard, he figured, would also be dismayed, or annoyed, or otherwise upset that they weren't the team going after the Colonel...but he also figured that she, like he, would figure that if they carried out their primary mission in a timely fashion, they could maybe get in on the action in the actual rescue.

So, that left Haarmon.  And, in a lot of ways, their success all hinged on him.  Rhijans could wreak all kinds of chaos...Juragga, as well...but when it came down to information retrieval, Dak was The Man.  And Rhijans would do whatever he could to make sure The Man was happy with his materials for the job.

+ I...Okay.  Will do.  Out. +

It's a struggle, but somehow she manages to keep her words from matching her name: broken and sharp-edged.  Flicking off her comm, Shard breaks into a jog, uncaring of her dignity.  At least these days she won't show up gasping, sweating, and smelling like a distillery; her recent exercising (some quite recent, in fact) means her stamina has improved.

Not a great deal, mind, but it's a start.

All the while, her mind follows the drumbeat of her feet with its own, alternating rhythm: Wrong-mis-sion-wrong-mis-sion-wrong-mis-sion.

Shard arrives at the Dancing Bantha to find Rhijans, Haarmon and Juragga in conversation with Reldan Jalt, while You-Why is discussing something with R2-O0 in Binary.

Jalt is explaining, "It should be easy enough for me to get us stopped by an Imperial patrol.  There's a few things that everybody knows you shouldn't do anywhere near an Impy ship."

"The tricky part will be judging it just right, so that they try to arrest us, instead of just blasting us out of space.  I think I have an idea for that though."

"Captain Jalt." You-Why interrupts, "Artoo says that your ship is in danger of suffering a massive coolant leak from its main power core, and that you have refused to allow him to repair it."

"Take it easy.  That's part of my plan."

"Sir, are you aware that the odds of surviving a... "

"Three hundred to one.  Yes, I know.  I've gambled on worse odds than that, and won."  Jalt grins at the droid.  "In a Hutt casino."

Haarmon was dismayed and angry that they'd drawn some chump errand while some other bantha-herders got the plum assignment. Not that they couldn't do it. No. In fact, if Haarmon had to name four people capable of wreaking more havoc than the four of them, well.... he couldn't name four such people.

We wreak like bosses when we're not even supposed to! Imagine us trying!

He was still angry. But he had to admit that this was, in fact, right smack-dab in the middle of their collective bailiwick.

He inspected the cube. He'd used a few of these in his time and he knew a solid piece of work when he saw one.

He nodded at Rhijans. "Yeah. Good enough and then some. Let's so sow some chaos. I just need ten minutes to get my stuff."

I'm not sure what the time frame looks like here, but if I've got a few minutes I want to go grab my terminal, and if I have a few MORE minutes, I want to make sure my terminal is loaded with all the programs and viruses and things I'll need for accessing and destroying an Imperial network.

Rhijans nodded.  "Get what you need.  We do this right, we'll have time to help someone else with their mission, too."  He didn't offer more explanation than that...but the almost-grin that followed the statement actually showed teeth, for a few moments.

He glanced over at Jalt.  "Good to have your excuses in proper order before you go waving them in front of the Empire, isn't it?" he quipped, in what passed for a light tone, coming from him.

Okay, so she's a touch winded.  But nothing more, and that's an improvement.  Breathing a touch heavily, Shard slows to a walk and ambles up to the group, currently knotted together beneath the looming ship.  "Nothing worth speaking of at the Quartermasters - at all.  Hope we have all of the armor, carbines, and what-not here, because my hands are empty."

Aaaaaand...there's the pain in her knees, right on schedule.  Void.  Now I remember why I stopped running up and down stairs.

"Jalt, seems we are working with you again." That with a smile; then she grows more serious, turning to Rhijans.  "I'm curious to hear what you consider a good alternative." There's no challenge in her voice, though; she's probing for information.

Rhijans turned to her, his whole body assuming the all-too-familiar mode of total pragmatism...everything from his face to his body language.  "The quick-and-dirty of it is, Jalt flies in, does something to get taken by the Imperials...he's got something in mind already.  We're concealed aboard the Bantha, they've left us a pretty good selection of explosives, grenades, and other chaos-makers, along with some Imperial uniforms...mostly maintenance stuff.  We cause whatever disturbance we can, to buy Dak time to slice into the Imperial 'net, find the information about the Colonel's location and status, and then dumps a spike into their system to further amplify the mess we've been making.  We pass the info along to the rescue team and get out however we can."

There was the slightest pause, followed by a ghost of a smile that only really settled around his eyes and never made it to his lips.  "If we're really lucky, whoever takes us in is also holding the Colonel...or we get in, get the info, and get out with enough time to go help get him.  Regardless, our part is crucial...even if we can't locate info on Kourene's whereabouts, the spike they gave Haarmon is the best bet for getting any of our command personnel out of there safely.  If they can't coordinate their response, they'll have all kinds of trouble cutting us off."

He gave a small hint of a shrug, concluding, "So, yeah.  I think our part of the operation is pretty important."

Haarmon goes off to collect his gear, while Rhijans explains their mission to Shard.  At the end, Jalt nods, "Yep, that's about the size of it.  Chaos, disruption, and a better than even chance of leaving the Imperials with ganza egg on their faces.  What more could anyone asks?"

He turns and starts up the ramp, calling back over his shoulder, "Looks like the loading's finished.  I'll go warm up the Bantha.  Come aboard when you're ready."

As he disappears into the ship, another freighter lifts, retracts its landing gear, and starts to edge towards the hangar exit...

Shard listens in silence, taking in the information Rhijans proffers.  Efficient, structured...cold, but that's his way.  It behooves her to answer efficiency with its equal.  She does catch the smile, or almost-smile; time spent observing has finally allowed her to pick up on these nascent expressions he adopts.

"Concur," she finally replies when he finishes. "It'll do, anyway.  So I'm up for it."  Turning after Jalt, she offers a fast wave. "There soon, Jalt, once Haarmon gets back!"  Rocking back and forth on her feet, she surveys the bounty-hunter and Wookie with a steady stare.  "I just hope it's not Nimadda," Shard finally blurts out.  "Seems to be right up her alley, from what I know of her."

With a sigh and a flick of the hand, she banishes that concern. "Nothing we can do if it is," the older woman whispers. "Just try to deal with it."

Two more ships take off in quick succession, followed by the base's compliment of Z-95s.  The freighters bear the unmistakable superstructure frames, designed for transporting Headhunters.  They will rendezvous in orbit, and make the jump to Orakanin.

All around the hangar, transport ships  are starting their engines and preparing to move out.  Some are going on the mission, others will be evacuating Defiance Base...  So far, at least, it seems fairly orderly.  That, of course, might change if the Imperials show up and start attacking the base.

Haarmon reappears across the room, moving at something between a fast walk and a trot...

Juragga moved to greet Haarmon.  This deal sucked, but the sooner they got started, the better.

Haarmon continues to faster-than-fast walk over to the group. He had been running, but his legs felt like water and his lungs like they were filled with hot glass. BY the time he reached them his face had a sheen of sweat and he was breathing really hard.

"I'm ready.... I got.... what I need.... sorry I.... took so... long."

Couple of Deep breaths. Eyes dart to Shard.

"I can't decide if the stair runs are what's killing me or what's keeping me alive."

Big smile for Juragga. "Hey Rags. You hear? We're on harass and recon. So Impy skull cracking is, like, a vital part of the mission. It's not a bug, it's a feature, like."

Rhijans' face got what passed for amusement in the hint of a smile.  "Looks like we're ready, then, Captain.  Let's button this thing up and get moving..."

He glanced around at the group...and, for just a moment, uncertaintly flickered in his eyes.  His detachment would pass, in certain circles, for a cavalier mindset...but he knew what they were about to do was dangerous, in the extreme.  And he hoped they were ready for it...

And then he compared it to what they'd already done...breaking the entire contingent of slave labor out of an Imperial mining facility...destroying the shield generator for an orbital construction project...buying off all the slaves they'd freed from Oomba.

Yes, they were ready for it.  The uncertainty cleared and his jaw took a determined set.  If anyone in the Alliance force was ready for this particular mission, it was them.  And he'd do his damnedest to make sure they'd be ready for the next one, as well.  All of them.

"Time to go make a mess, people."

"It's killing you now," Shard mutters, faint amusement flickering in her eyes.  "It'll keep you alive later."  She leans a little closer.  "Training is over for the duration of this mission - don't do any while we're out there, in case it needs to be said."  Last thing any of them need is Haarmon pulling a muscle or running out of juice at a critical point.

She lances a quick smile at Juragga. "He's right.  No holding back on this one, Juragga.  You ready for that?" It's a most rhetorical question. Just...please.  No beating them with their own limbs. She keeps that to herself, though, not wishing to rain on any growing ebullience.

Reflexively, she flicks a look toward Rhijans, and an odd expression for the bounty-hunter's face catches her attention.  For an instant, his stony visage seems almost open.  Even vulnerable, in a curious fashion.  Then the granite returns, whetted to a sharp edge, and Shard's lips twist in a lop-sided smile as he speaks.  One last check, hands slipping under her robe.

Blaster.

Murder-stick.

If they need her to use the former, void help them.  The latter...void help her, but she'll do it.

"Bet on it."

Cursed right.

Reldan Jalt calls in for clearance, and there is a two minute wait while already mobile ships  get out of the hangar.  Then Dancing Bantha lifts smoothly, showing no sign of mechanical issues.  The ship edges out into the open, and the oppressive steaming heat of the jungle seems to have even penetrated the hull.

Jalt wastes no time in aiming the ship skyward, engaging the main engines and grabbing altitude.

As soon as they're clear of the atmosphere he starts entering their course into the Navcomputer.

And the ship jumps to lightspeed...

With the ship in hyperspace, Jalt comes out into the passenger lounge.  "I think I should warn you all," he announces, "dropping into the Orakanin system is going to be bumpy.  Deliberately so.  We'll look like we're out of control, bleeding coolant, and about to suffer a catastrophic core breach.  That should draw some attention."

Rhijans nodded, his face impassive.  "Better to come out rough and sell the story from the start than opt for a comfortable drop and then hope you can sell the story before they atomize you," he quipped, drily.  He wasn't thrilled with the prospect...but he'd long ago lost count of situations he didn't like that had been necessary for the task at hand.

"Where do you want us?  Figure once we get there, you'll be too busy trying to convince them they shouldn't shoot you to take time to hide us away...so, let's get familiar with it now and then we don't have to worry."

"Glad you asked.  This way." Jalt leads the way out of the room and along a curved corridor,

A short distance along  he reaches down and twists a small knob at the base of one wall.  A panel on the floor pops up a couple of centimetres, and Jalt hinges it up to reveal a small compartment underneath.  "There's another one of these just along there, and I'm sure you could get a Wookiee or three Humans into one of them, though the Humans would be cramped.  They're shielded, to conceal that they're there, and there's a latch just there that'll pop the lid from the inside."

He nods, "I think they'll do.  Should get you past scans and manual searches."

"As soon as we get to Orakanin you should conceal yourselves in here and wait until I signal you to come out.  I'll send my Artoo unit to knock on the lid when it's safe."

Juragga leaned in close to Shard, and muffled something low in Wookiee.

Rhijans nodded.  "Just in case something goes wrong after we get aboard...about how long do Imperials typically take in searching a craft this size?  We can wait that long plus half that again...if we don't hear anything from your droid by then, we can pop the hatch from inside, provided the ship sounds quiet."

He looked around at the group.  "We should figure out who's holing up in which compartment...and are you planning on You-Why hiding with us?  Or is he going to be out in the open?  Because his lack of flexibility will eat up a little comfort-room in whichever compartment he may be stashed in...but it also seems a little out of character for a minor independent spacer to be running with a high-end protocol droid, too."

He did another visual once-over of the group.  "Probably not advisable to have me alone with Juragga.  I don't speak Wookiee, if he had anything to say, it'd take a long time to get it communicated...unless You-Why was in there, but I think having a droid and a Wookiee in one of those compartments would be a little TOO snug..."  There was a quick twitch on his face, that could have been a flicker of a smile...but it was gone before it could be clearly recognized.

With a hoot, Juragga dug under his poncho and produced a large disc.  The translator he'd used earlier in their adventures.  It didn't always render a perfect translation - but it did work.

Rhijans gave something suspiciously close to a chuckle.  "Okay, that problem's resolved.  I still think we should plan to keep You-Why in the other compartment, if we need to hide him at all."

He looked at Jalt.  "You've had more experience dealing with Imperials asking questions about your ship than I have.  Do we need to hide him?  If he's not going to raise any flags by being out here, I'm sure he'd appreciate not being crammed into a metal box with a couple of other people."

Shard studies the small smuggling compartments with something akin to panicked distaste.  Trapped in there, breathing the same air as one, maybe two other people, dark and...it brings back the mines, the confinement, the heaviness of the recirculated atmosphere, thick with the scent of dull despair.  She starts slightly when Juragga leans close, her eyes shutting as his breath stirs her hair.  Reaching out, she grips his arm, taking hold as tightly as her weak human fingers can.

"Not that last, Juragga.  Never that," she whispers.  "We're all important."

And I'm no Jedi.  But she keeps that to herself, for now.

Hypocrite, her mind whispers.  She would do the same as he suggests for him, or any others here.

Swallowing heavily, Shard shrugs her shoulders as Juragga gleefully produces his translator.  "Could go with anyone, then.  I'm fine in there with Juragga, or Haarmon, or you," she notes to Rhijans, a slight hint of hesitation in her voice.  Juragga wouldn't be a problem.  Haarmon would likely become agitated, if she guesses correctly.  Rhijans...small talk might be a tad more than 'interesting'.  "And I'm smallest."  It's not perfectly accurate; Haarmon and her aren't that much different in size, when factoring in her voluminous over-robe.  Come to think of it...she needs to do some work on that piece of apparel.  Her recent exercising with Haarmon has made it clear how encumbering its concealing folds can be.

"But space." She grimaces.  "You say we have two compartments, Jalt.  By my reckoning, that's all three of us and one Wookie, at most.  Unless I squish in with Juragga -" leaving her outer robe outside "- or something like that, I don't think we'll manage to get everyone in.  You-Why might need to stay outside."

"I can always claim that Gold Britches there is cargo.  Claim that somebody is paying me to transport him.  I have a burned out restraining bolt somewhere,  I can slap that on him and tell the Impies that he belongs to a client." Jalt says, a smile spreading across his features.

"You could probably use him to do a little reconnaissance.  Imperials never pay any attention to droids.  Especially ones with restraining bolts in place."

You-Why adds his own opinion to the discussion, "I would, in fact, much rather stay outside than be crammed into a noisome hole with a group of organics.  I am sorry to say this, but many, if not most, organics do have shockingly poor standards of hygiene and cleanliness."

Rhijans nodded at Jalt...and again, the ghost-of-a-smile flickered on his face at You-Why's declaration.  "No need to be sorry, we go nose-deaf to it after a little while unless someone's really sloppy.  Much as you don't want to smell us, we'd prefer to cut down on the bruises from thumping into your metal hide, so we're even on that point."  His voice sounded suspiciously close to a chuckle...but never quite broke out of whatever dry wit might have driven it.

"Let's get the dummy restraining bolt in place, and get whatever we need to keep us holed up securely tucked away now.  That way we can be ready to hide as soon as we're ready to drop out of hyperspace."

Haarmon took a look at the compartments. The thought didn't thrill him,  that's for sure, but he noted the edges of distress on Shard's face and figured he'd keep his reservations to himself. This was hard enough on everyone. Griping about things  you can't control wasn't going to help.

"Hey, You-Why. If you trust me, I think the best thing to do is for me to break you. We attach the bolt. Take him down to storage and I'll work a pile of purely cosmetic damage on him. Make it look like some piece of unusable junk Jalt found or bought somewhere. The only thing an organic ignores more than a droid with a bolt is a turned-off droid. But I'll leave all your sensors active. In case they say anything awesome around you."

He looks around.

"If we're taking votes, then I should be with Rags. I understand him best. And we've been in cramped-er quarters before."

Another pause.

"Do we know what ship is going to intercept us? Should I be on the Nets looking it up?"

"Damage would make them overlook him during the initial inspection, but it would be a liability when we start working on the second phase of the mission.  Damaged droids wouldn't be likely to be roaming an Imperial base or ship. "  He looked over at Jalt.

"Undamaged, he's just another droid, almost as anonymous as a stormtrooper.  He can scout ahead, locate vulnerable points or at least an open terminal, save us a lot of blundering around."  He looked back to You-Why.  "If he's willing, he can even start scouting while we're waiting out the inspection on the ship."

He turned back to Dax.  "Visible damage becomes a marker.  People would wonder why he was walking around, instead of going to maintenance, or even worse, question how he got damaged in the first place.  We'd be trading away one of his best operating assets for the mission, in exchange for a momentary advantage of plausibility.  I don't think it's a good trade."  His voice wasn't hard or emphatic...while it could come  across as a flat refusal, a careful scrutiny of his manner would probably indicate that he was trying to explain and educate, not shut down the notion.

But, given his typical detachment, that could easily be misunderstood.

"Plus, if he looks damaged, it makes it harder to pass him off as a cargo that somebody might think was worth shipping somewhere."

Jalt shrugs.  "But that's up to you.  Just let me know what you decide, so I can adjust my story if necessary."

You-Why also considers Haarmon's proposal.  "That might be exciting.  A disguise of sorts.  Yes, very exciting indeed."

Jalt rolls his eyes, out of sight of You-Why, and gives a slight shake of his head before replying to Haarmon, "I have no idea which ship is going to pick us up.  I've heard that Orakanin is swarming with them, so we stand a good chance of being grabbed quickly.  But as for which ship... or even what type... well, that's anybody's guess.  I'd be hoping for something big.  Less likely that new faces will stand out."

Rhijans nodded.  "And more likely to have fast access to the data we need."  He glanced over at You-Why.

"We'll test your skills with disguise later, sometime.  Right now, our best disguises will be the 'hide in plain sight' variety, and that means you need to look as innocuous as possible.  It's the difference between an Imperial tech dismissing you as just another droid on the ship, versus watching you to try and puzzle out why you're not going to maintenance.  We don't want them watching you."

He looked at the others.  "That goes for the rest of us, as well.  Juragga's going to have to play the Wookiee slave role again, the rest of us will have to see what they managed to put together for us out of the Imperial gear they brought aboard.  But I'd suggest getting dressed in it now, because trying to change clothes in a crowded storage compartment isn't going to be easy, especially if we don't have any lights in there."

He gave the group a quick once-over and added, "Besides, once we know what kind of a cover they've provided for us, we can start working out which ways to most effectively use it.  We won't have time for brainstorming after we get out of the compartments, and trying to do it while we're in there and the Imperials are searching the ship is just asking for trouble.  So, let's do it now."

Juragga looked from person to person as each spoke.  He huffed.  This was a lot of talking.  But it was how things always went.

To Shard, he added, "GrrrRRRRummmmf." My life means little if I fail my friends, or my family.

He yodeled approval of teaming up with Haarmon.  He and the kid went way back.  His approval, though, failed at Rhijans' announcement he'd again have to play slave.

The Wookiee complained.  Not loudly, and he knew there was nothing to be done about it... but nonetheless.

Looks like it's Rhijans and her.  Not that it's a problem, necessarily...

"Agreed with Rhijans...and Haarmon," she puts in.  "You-Why banged up maybe not such a good idea.  Fake restraining bolt?  Definitely a plan.  Then if people see him somewhere he shouldn't be, the assumption is that it actually is somewhere he should be."  She eyes the droid speculatively.  "So long as wearing a fake one isn't a problem for you, You-Why."

He probably finds it ironic.

"As for getting changed, good plan."  Shard grimaces, an annoying thought occurring. That cursed murder-stick. She might have to hide it in Juragga's harness.  "Let's get in there and get moving on this." But she pauses beside Juragga.  "Failure can be fixed," she murmurs.  "Your loss?"  The older woman offers him a small smile.  "Nothing fixes that for us."  That last comes with a pat on his shoulder, though Shard needs to stretch herself to manage. "C'mon.  I know this slave thing really burns.  I'm curious to see what they have for me."

Women are not well-represented in the Empire, Ghea Nimadda notwithstanding.

There seems little choice in the disguises.  The uniforms are basic technician issue coveralls, nicely shapeless and nondescript, plus caps, belts with technical equipment, plus assorted tool boxes and tech scanners.  The caps, if worn in typical Imperial fashion, pulled down low over the face, should work to partially conceal the wearer's features.

Jalt laughs quietly, "It's not much, but nobody pays much attention to techs going about their duty.  If you want something more concealing, you'll need to mug a couple of troopers."

He pulls open one of the crates, "Thermal detonators here, and demo charges with timers,"  Another crate, "Power cells and... oh... this is nice."  He stands back so the others can see what he's found - a case of proton mines.

"Ugh." Shard prods the uniforms with dubious caution.  "Well, at least I'll have room to stash things," she finally decides, snagging one that looks about her size. "I guess we'll need to hide the blasters in the boxes."

Though what they'll do with Juragga's bowcaster, she has no idea; and now Shard considers that it's a good thing they never received any blaster carbines.

"I'm fine with this," she continues.  "No need for me to waste time hunting for trooper outfits."  Also, Shard is well aware that she doesn't walk correctly for that.  Despite her spare figure, she's still a woman and a woman's hips move differently.  Just what I'd need, she morosely considers. Giving everyone away like that. 

"The boys might need something, though.  I suppose we'll make that decision on arrival."

Peering over Jalt's shoulder, she examines the contents of the crates.  "Right.  Outside my experience and expertise.  I'll keep watch while the explosive people make use of these thing.  And carry some for you in a toolbox."  Toting her uniform, she heads for the fresher, firing a final comment over her shoulder. "I'll get changed; don't wait."

Rhijans raised an eyebrow.  "Really?" he asked.  It was hard to tell whether his tone was disbelief, or gratification.

"They really ARE serious about us making a mess in there, then."  The thermal detonators were good...noisy and destructive.  But they were unpredictable, a best-guess-at-dead-reckoning measure for demolition.  The explosive charges,were better...maybe not as violent, in terms of sheer destructive force, but the level of control far surpassed anything you could hope to accomplish with a detonator.

He'd never worked with proton mines before...but they were rumored to be destructive on a magnitude beyond anything achievable with the other two.

"We'd best stash most of that in these compartments, too...the proton mines, for sure.  You might be able to fast-talk your way around some thermal detonators, and even some regular charges...but those mines are definitely military-grade stuff...they'd never buy a low-grade smuggler hauling something like that."  Unconcerned with who was in the room, he peeled down to his underwear, re-dressing in the Imperial clothes.  His clothing items were folded precisely and stacked, creating a tiny bundle that was ready to be stashed with everything else, away from Imperial searchers.

Haarmon busied himself with changing into his coveralls. All in all, he preferred this to the Stormtrooper armour. More air. Less visibility. The enormity of what was about to happen here was starting to sink in and he was quiet and thoughtful as he changed.

He was game for whatever. No doubt about that. But aside from the fact that the were intentionally leaping into the belly of the beast, but the entire mission rested on his scrawny little shoulders.

Heavy stuff.

He was interested in the mines, but only in the most academic of senses. Whatever good he did, it (hopfully) wasn't going to involve explosions.