Space... a sheet of black velvet strewn with a billion fiery gems.  Hanging against this background is a small, red star, long past its glory days and well into the long slow decline which will burn up all of its remaining fuel.  Desperately it seems to cling to its light and heat, in the most miserly fashion.

The few worlds which orbit it are close in, - a couple of airless, barren pebbles, and one world which shines blue and green in the dim light.  That world is a gas giant, dragging a cluster of moons around its orbit.  One of those moons is Alrirkr, glittering white in its cocoon of ice and gleaming whorls of cloud.

Suddenly there is a new object in the system, much smaller than most of the others.  Bold Gambit has arrived, dropping out of hyperspace and slowing rapidly, even as a quartet of fighters disengage themselves from the transport's hull and angle away, setting course for a much smaller moon whose highly eccentric orbit currently places it within twenty thousand kilometres of Alrirkr.

Their goal is to take up position close to the tiny, irregularly-shaped moon (which the pilots have dubbed "Junior") and wait for a signal that they are needed to bomb the mine.  If no such signal is sent, they are to wait to escort Bold Gambit away from Alrirkr, docking with the transport again just before she makes the jump to lightspeed.

The transport itself vectors towards the icy world where the Imperials have their mining operation...

Rhijans was still.  It was a deceptive stillness...his reposed exterior masked a thought process that raced over possible scenarios and the best responses to them.  He didn't like to be caught unprepared, and it was habit for him to try and anticipate hiccups in a plan.

He was still adjusting to the concept of working as part of a team, so it had surprised him, mildly, when it was his plan that was settled upon.  There were a few dozen nuances to it that he hadn't envisioned...part of that whole 'team' thing again...and he honestly didn't expect anything to go anywhere near as smoothly as the plan suggested.

But, for him, plans were really only a map to get into the situation.  Little or nothing he'd ever done in the past had gone according to plan--although the situation usually didn't depart from the plan as abruptly and precipitously as their last mission--the plan had made it to 'arrive in-system' before things started going wrong.  Improvise and carry on, he mused.  The others had proven adept enough at that process--last time around.  There were new faces in the crew this time...only time would tell how well they could do the same.

"So we're all good with the plan?  Recap time."  Shard strides into the hold.  She's tense and jittery, left hand flexing for the flask (stowed in her cloak), right hand hanging limp and loose at her side, fingers slightly curled.  "Get in there with a work order to pick up...I don't know, 'unspecified goods', like the Imperials tell their sub-contractors much.  That way they can just dump whatever off on us, and we can't complain.  They bitch and moan we're not on time or we're early, or we're the wrong ship.  We through 'bureaucracy' back in their faces."

Her eyes sweep the compartment, waiting for any corrections.  Then the older woman continues, pacing in a tight circle.

"We fake some kind of technical error.  While that's being 'repaired', we go hang at the cafeteria, rub shoulders with off-duty troopers, shoot the breeze with Impy techs.  Find out where the Nergon and the slaves are.  Figure out alternate transportation, if we need it."

Her mouth tightens to a slash in her thin features.  "That's when things get interesting."

Turning to face the crew, Shui spreads her arms wide.  "Thoughts?  Additions?  Addendums?"

Rhijans spoke up.  "If possible, I'm sure Captain Lund would prefer that we avoid drawing excessive attention to his ship in the process.  It'd be handy to not have to forge a new ship's registration as part of the follow-up on the mission."  He had no idea if that would be an option or not...too many unknowns on the ground.

But at least this time they weren't coming out of hyperspace right into an Imperial blockade.  That was a step in the right direction.

Juragga tilted his shaggy head to one side and wuffed a low warbling interrogative.  He wondered how a Wookiee would fit in with this, since most of his kind were kept as slaves by the Imperials.  He was 'muscle' for the trip, but would he remain on the ship at first?

"I'm picking up the landing beacon." Vekkis Lund announces to anybody who's listening.

"And there are a couple of dozen ships in orbit, at least as far as I can see."  He starts to fiddle with the sensor controls, recalibrating them.  "Let's check if there's anybody here that we might recognise.  Imperial star destroyers, for instance."

Vekkis frowns at the display screen.


OOC: Vekkis Lund rolled 21 using 5 dice and +2 pips with the WEG Classic system with rolls of 5,3,6,3,{Wild}2. Sensor scans.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Mon 23 May 2011.

Vekkis Lund swings Bold Gambit towards Alrirkr, then starts checking the neighbourhood for Imperial military shipping.  The latter job is made more difficult by the spectacular displays of lightning in the atmosphere of the gas giant (the charts name it Cordosin) which are playing havoc with the ships long range sensors.

And then, as they get closer to Alrirkr itself, the moons own magnetic field begins to shield them from the effects of the distant massive electrical discharges, and the sensors start to give the required information.

As the ship wanders its way into orbit, Haarmon perks up at Shard's plan, "That's a great idea! Listen. If it's delays and confusion you want, why don't we just screw the whole day's operation down there? I hit the Nets and rip the whole back end of the data-trail, yeah? Make sure nothing anywhere matches anything else. Switch manifests, times, schedules, ship makes and models, erase shipment numbers and purchase orders."

He pauses. Looks around, as though wondering if anyone was even listening.

"It's always easier to wreck something on the nets than it is to build. Give me two hours and I can have the whole moon chasing its tail. And we can set down, just one more piece of trash in the heap, and have our wander while the Imp's try to work it all out. Maybe the best way to look like we belong is to make sure no one else belongs either? Am I right?"

He pauses again.

"Also, Rags wants to make sure we don't leave him on the ship. He knows he's a little conspicuous, but he wants to come too. Maybe he can pretend like he's carrying our bags or something, yeah? And then, when it gets hairy, he can be all RRrRRrRaAAAAwwwrrrwwwrrwAAAAA," Haarmon busts out a surprisingly effective Wookie imitation, "With the Bowcaster, like. Am I right Rags?"

"All civilian transports." reports Vekkis Lund, "Not so much as a TIE in orbit, at least not that I can find."

He laughs, and when he speaks again, he sounds distinctly optimistic, "I do believe this is going to be a nice straight forward job.  Oops!  Might have spoke too soon there.  The beacon's broadcasting a standard 'welcome to Alrirkr' recorded message, but part of it says we have to report in before we land.  They want a ship name, manifest number for the shipment we're collecting, and the shipping destination."

Rhijans took in Dak's suggestion, followed by Lund's observation about the demand for landing info.  "How much time do you need to shuffle their whole operation?  And can you do it from the ship, or do you need access to an actual data station planet-side?"

He had the inklings of a plan, at least for getting to the planet, but it all hinged on how fast Dak could completely overgrow the paper trails in their manifest system...

Haarmon gives Rhijans' an uncustomary amount of thought. His lips move as he makes a few mental calculations and nods to himself. "I can do it from here. As for time? I can get it done in a rush by the time we hit dry dock. Or if you all can think of a reason to slow down a little without looking like Rebels troops or whatever, I can take my time and get it done right."

He looks around, his face filling up with a very excited grin.

"Shall I?"

And with that he heads to the cockpit to hook his portable computer unit into the ship's comms.

Rhijans followed Dak forward.  "First off, make sure there's a departure order for us...but no arrival orders...then, several of the ships that are down there?  Make sure there's no departures to go with their arrivals.  Shuffle some names...basically, just give 'em a lot of contradictory and incomplete information."

He turned to Lund.  "Got a favorite alias for this can?"  He gave a tight-lipped, not-quite-humorless grin.  "I'd offer a name, but a lot of the captains I've worked with are kind of superstitious about stuff like that."  He nodded at Dak, and explained, "Superslicer here needs a name to insert into the system, though, so if you don't have one, we'll make one up real quick."  The nickname was said without derision...almost like the use of a military call-sign, maybe with just a hint of joking to it, though the joke never made it into his expression.

It didn't appear to even dawn on him that he might be stepping on toes.  He saw action that needed taking, and he was accustomed to being the only one available to take it...
This message was last edited by the player at 15:22, Wed 25 May 2011.

Shard leans against a wall of the ship, frowning her way through Haarmon's ideas.  Thoughtfully.  She nods once or twice, content to let the man finish, though one corner of her mouth quirks up in a lop-sided smile at his shockingly realistic Wookie 'battlecry'.

"Leaving Juragga behind isn't on the menu," she notes.  "Agreed on that."  They can find some kind of story the imperials will buy.  Pursing her lips, she considers the rest of the idea as Haarmon finishes and Rhijans adds his own question.

It's good.  It's actually really good.  Instead of being 'something wrong', they're just one more symptom of a larger problem that will have the imperials cursing, tired, and frustrated.  A symptom they are far more likely to shuffle out of the way than scrutinize.   "It's carabondium solid," she finally says.  "I say do it."

Rhijans jumps in with specifics and Shard slips back, content to allow the planners to plot.  They're far better at it than she, to be sure.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Wed 25 May 2011.

Juragga hooted his appreciation of Haarmon's translation, impression, and support.  Then he beamed a Wookiee grin as Shard endorsed it.  He knew on sight he'd liked the human woman.  There was something about her that resonated.

His grin turned feral as they proceeded with their plans and Haarmon hooked his magic slicer to the ship.  For all his bluster, the Wookiee knew the kid was REALLY good.

"GuuuuhhHRRRRRuuuuhn," he commented, inquiring how people were doing in their Wookiee language studies.

Reaching into his duffle, he produced a golden, somewhat battered translator disc and turned it on.  He warbled another comment, and this time the disc lit up and translated for him.

Sort of.

"Is neatly translator wheel, yes?  For when Haarmon not here.  Still best to live Wookiee speak in case lost or break.  Yes?"

Juragga looked at the disc and frowned.