Frowning, Shard relaxes somewhat.  They're just scavangers, opportunistic and ready to defend what they've found.  They'd probably run if she pushed the issue.  Even so, she's not willing to take the chance...

...but a question arises as to what, exactly, they're struggling to defend so arduously.

It's a trash bin, she reasons.  In a spacedock, not outside a pub or restaurant.  What enormous largesse might be found within it that would attract a trio of scavangers, to the point where they're willing to defend it against encroachment?  There must be bins all over this place.

"Yeah," she sighs, focusing her thoughts.  "Gonna need to find out, I guess."

There's a place in between ice and fire, between rage and serenity, between the heart of stars and the void between them.  A place Shard seeks, leery of the cold, emotionless teachings of her mentor and certainly unwilling to chance the slippery slope of the other side of the coin.  Better to no flip and catch the coin; instead, take the hard route of standing it upon its edge.

Find balance.

She thinks she has it - maybe, almost, perhaps, scuttling around within her mental fingers, almost in her grip.  The woman reaches with her mind.  She doesn't try to send words, only ideas.  Concepts.  Feelings.

It's not hard to recall such emotions, when in the past you've spent time running from a Silverslith on a hellworld.

*FEAR.  PREDATOR TOO BIG TO FIGHT.  AN EATING THING COMES*
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Wed 07 Nov 2012.

Haarmon shoves aside a toppled chair and finds a dataport behind it, close to the floor.  It's at a nice convenient height for small droid, which means Haarmon will need to squat, or sit on the floor.

Reldan Jalt looks around the room, without touching anything, "Do you suppose that woman did all this?  She did seem a bit edgy when she was talking to us. Maybe she had help, the place looks like it's been well turned over.  I wonder if they were looking for something, or just trying to make a point to somebody."

The open container suddenly gets very quiet, and then there is some quiet chirping from inside.  Three sets of eyes appear over the top edge, looking in different directions... and then the container almost seems to explode as the three animals burst out of it, scattering trash as they do so, and run for a floor level ventilation duct with a broken grille in front of it.  They disappear inside, and all is quiet.

And a moment later there are three sets of eyes gleaming in the darkness of the duct interior...

Rhijans shrugged.  "I'm guessing she wasn't alone...she most likely wouldn't have come to the door when we stopped before, if she was.  I couldn't make out enough of what was being said on the other side of the door to really hazard a guess at whether they were tossing the place in a search, or whether this is a message-killing.  Either way, as soon as Dak gets done, I wanna get out of here.  We may not be racing a deadline to get back to the ship, but the longer we're here, the higher the odds that we've gotta start answering questions...and that could put us in the 'racing a deadline' state in a big hurry."

If it doesn't leave us in the 'held under observation and background check' state, he thought.  He wouldn't say it aloud, however.  He was just superstitious enough to believe one shouldn't tempt Fate with bad suggestions.

He shot a look back in the room.  "Make it quick, kid.  I'd like to be out of here completely before anyone else gets a chance to stumble across this mess..."

Juragga gave a long slow rumble, which roughly translated into "I have a bad feeling about this" and "Let's get out of here", both at once.

Then, glancing to Haarmon, the powerful Wookiee warbled, "GrrRRAAAAAwwwwhhh," asking if Dak had a chance to burst-send that info to the Colonel now...

Haarmon gave Juragga a look and a nod. And then shook  his head. It said that he was, indeed, okay, thanks for asking. And that he didn't trust any uplink he was going to get in this place to send anything too sensitive to Rebel High Command.

And he nodded at Rhijans. "Gotcha skip," he said and plugged in. His entry into the nets was quick and dirty. If anyone decided to, they'd be able to trace it back to this port without a ton of trouble. But unless someone was watching it right this very moment, he figured he had time to peek and skoot.

Less than a minute.  Considerably less.  And Haarmon has information scrolling across the display on his portable terminal. 

You-Why shuffles around the room, studiously avoiding the corpse.  Suddenly he stops and howls softly at Juragga. 

Rhijans and Reldan keep watch on the door, and the corridor beyond.  Reldan shakes his head, "Not liking this one bit."  And at that precise moment, the door at the far end of the corridor, the one leading out into the street, starts to open...

Shard risks another look into the container.  It's about three quarters full, and nothing seems to be moving in there now...

Haarmon shakes his head and hoots a couple of Wookie-curses. Wookies have the best curses. He stood up and unplugged his terminal. "I got nothing. Except that that guy," he points to the body without looking at it, "Ain't the guy who lives here. So there's some serious chicanery going on here. But I don't think we got time to untangle it."

He nods. Ready to leave now.

Rhijans nodded at Dak's report of his results.  "Good to know.  Everybody pack up and be ready to put on your best panic-stricken look...we got company coming."  He nodded and stepped into the hall.

If they were lucky, it was nobody important, just another local who would walk past the door and feel inclined to mind their own business.  If they weren't lucky, it would be Imperials.  No matter who it was, it would be a lot easier to pass off surprise if it looked like they, themselves, had just stumbled across the room and were going in, rather than coming out.

He kept an eye down the hall, waiting to see who was coming through the door, mentally preparing for a few different options in terms of his response and how to sell it to different people.  Without looking down, he made sure his blaster was in its holster...but ready to be drawn, in case this went horribly wrong.

"Right," Shard whispers, rubbing her forehead.  There's a nascent headache floating somewhere around in her brain, but she ignores that for the moment.  Snagging a length of broken pipe, she commences rooting around in the trash, all the while keeping an eye on the trio cowering in the darkness.

"Hadn't actually figured that would work," she mutters to herself, amazed that she managed that much.  "Maybe...maybe being with this group is helping me pull myself together...what were you three looking for in here?  If it's old food, I'm going to be some embarassed."

Shard pokes around in the container, using some of the nearby junk to avoid having to touch anything.  What she finds probably isn't too surprising.  A yellow and red carton, the partly open lid displaying an image of an improbably colourful Whiphid holding a similar carton, is laying among the other trash.  It still contains most of a meal, which probably hadn't looked much more appetising when it hadn't been laying about in a trash container.  Some sort of omelette with a greenish sauce.  The maggots probably weren't part of it originally.  Or maybe they were.  Who knows what Whiphids actually eat?

Agitated chittering sounds come from the air vent...

The group make their way out into the corridor just as a woman comes in from the street, walking backwards and dragging a large box.  She stops to mop her brow and turns toward the elevator, at which point she sees the Rebels standing there.  She's well past elderly, and into ancient, with skin that looks as if it's spent a lot of time exposed to harsh weather.  Her eyes, bleary and half-closed though they are, seem to brighten up as she spots the group.

In a cracked, hoarse voice, she says (between gasping breaths), "Say... you young fellas... look good and strong.  Wanna... help me get this... new cooler up to... my place?  No good driver... just dumped me out... in the street with it.  Useless... nerf herding son... of a gundark."

Perfect, Rhijans thought, bitterly.  And then reconsidered all the factors.

"Hey, Juragga, Dak...there's a lady out here that needs some help carrying something.  Right up your alley.  Just make sure you close the door on the way out of the place, okay?"  That would, hopefully, prevent idle passersby from looking in the room and noticing anything amiss.  He made a mental note of the address...they could send in an anonymous report once they were out of the area.  He was pretty sure the neighbors wouldn't appreciate a dead body laying around unattended for an extended period of time.

He turned and started down the hall toward her.  "I'm sure we can help.  If you think we look strong, wait until you see my friend.  He might be able to move this on his own, even..."  He didn't often engage in friendly banter...but it did come in handy from time to time and this seemed like one of those times, to him.  He never quite made it to flashing a winning smile, however.  That much was just too foreign to him.

Juragga was more than ready to leave, but perhaps this would be a decent cover.  And besides, it WAS right up his alley.

Rumbling under his breath, he padded forward and glanced at the cooler, intent on picking it up, shouldering it, and lugging it up the steps.

"Thank you, Sonny.  My, your friend's a big one, isn't he?" the woman chuckles as she sees Juragga, "My apartment's on the fourth floor, Longshanks.  This thing," she slaps the carton, "is too heavy for me to get into the elevator, 'specially as it probably needs to be stood up to fit in there.  And there's no way I could drag it along the corridor and in through my door."

"Course, none of the neighbours would help, except maybe that nice Mister Chirok, but he's not very strong.  Still, he's always friendly, and he offers to help if he can."  She gestures towards the now closed door to the room with the body, "Maybe I should ask him as well, just in case we need more help."

Artoo warbles, and You-Why helpfully translates, "I'm afraid he... "  The rest of the explanation is muffled as Reldan slaps a hand over the droid's mouth.

"You're right, I suppose.  He's probably busy.  Here, I'll get the elevator."

She reaches past Rhijans to push the call signal, and the door opens immediately.

Rhijans managed to stifle the sigh of relief that wanted to burst forth after Jalt managed to stop the protocol droid from saying anything.  Chirok, huh?  Maybe that bears some looking into, once we're clear and out of this mess...  He hadn't quite been able to stifle the annoyed look that sprang to his face when he realized what UY was about to say...he could only hope that their new, aging friend hadn't noticed the reaction, or hadn't associated anything with the timing.

"I'd be very surprised if we needed any further assistance.  My friend and I," and he gestured at Jalt, "are both very able-bodied individuals...and Fuzzy, here, is worth two or three of either one of us.  The kid's no slouch, either.  We've had tougher deliveries to make, and got it done without extra help."  He actually had no idea what Dak's relative physical strength was...but for the sake of preventing any further inquiries that might make someone open the door here, he was willing to talk them all up.

He did dislike the fact that someone had seen them coming out of the room...and that the same person knew who was supposed to be living there.  They needed an excuse...something to lead suspicions aside if someone started asking the old woman.  "I don't think Mr. Chirok's home, anyway.  We were supposed to drop off some hardware there, but when we arrived, the door was unlocked and nobody was home.  He knew someone was coming, so I guess he left the door open in case we arrived while he was out."  Light on the details and heavy on the half-truths...let her make her own connections... he told himself.  When they happened along, the door WAS unlocked--wide open, actually--and nobody was home--since you couldn't really consider a corpse to be someone living there.  He could only hope the story was plausible enough that she'd cease to notice them as anything noteworthy.  If people started asking around about anything that happened there, he was pretty sure that a group including a Wookiee and a gray-skinned human would stand out, unless there was a good reason for them to be there.

Figures, Shard considers.  And here she thought someone might have dumped a dead body in the trash.  But nope.  "Sorry, you," she murmurs to the trio of eyes and gingerly shifts back from the dumpster.

Best leave them to calm down and return to their meal.

"Curse it, Rhijans," she mutters, stalking away from the trash.  "Call in." It occurs to her to make the call herself, but Shard doesn't want to interrupt any operations currently in-session.  Better to just continue on with her own check of the area.

Striding to the hanger door, she leans in the frame and takes a long look hither and yon, searching for any points of interest within sight, hopefully a crew member taking a breather to any potential watchers.

The old woman nods absently as Rhijans explains why they're there, her attention focussed on the way her new cooler unit is being handled.  Or possibly on all the firm young muscle doing the handling.  "That's right, stand it on end... no, no... the other end.  It should fit in the elevator easier now."

Reldan removes his hand from You-Why's mouth, "You two wait here.  If anybody asks, you're waiting for us, we're helping an old lady move a cooler into her apartment.  Understand?"

"Yes.  I understand."  The droid sounds positively sulky.

Finally the elevator door closes, and it starts its journey up to the fourth floor...

There is an old saying that goes, "As one door closes, another opens."  As if to prove a point, at that very moment Shard opens the door of the docking bay and looks out into the street.  It's crowded out there.  Lots of people, droids and vehicles moving by.  Nobody is paying much attention to her.  Behind her she can hear her new friends emerging from the vent and heading back to their bounty,

She can see a door to another docking bay, a couple of stores, some sort of metal obelisk.  And a cantina, with a sign cycling through a list of attractions, "Drinks, Food, Music, Pazaak, Sabacc, Dancing, Drinks... "

The elevator door opens to reveal a poorly lit corridor, littered with trash.  Most of it looks to have been there for a while...

For his part, the giant Wookiee just did his best to lever the fridge into the elevator as quickly and gently as possible.  The old lady knew the dead guy - that could be bad.

"RaaauUUUURR," he commented to You-Why.  "The trick is, breathing through your mouth," he answered the droid's earlier query of how he stood the smell.

The woman's absent-minded response to his story was as much reassurance as Rhijans felt he was likely to get.  For the moment, all he could do was sit tight and wait for the lift to reach their stop.  He did his best impression of casual boredom, trying to make himself as un-noteworthy as a gray-skinned humanoid could manage, and leaned against the wall of the elevator as it rose.

So far, so good.  Shard shoots a glance at the cantina for a long moment, then shakes her head.  "Not now," she mutters.  "Later."  That settles down any stresses over its presence (and her lack of a drink), and she breathes out a chunk of her stress, letting her shoulders relax.

"All right," the older woman mutters.  "Let's start with that."  She can't go too far from the ship, given everyone expects her to be there, but certainly she can have a look at the obelisk.

As well as trash, the corridor has its fair share of vermin.  Some of those vermin are wearing clothes.  Fortunately the clothed ones seem too tired, or drunk, or both, to cause any trouble.  The group make their way along the corridor, half-carrying and half-dragging the cooler unit.

The woman stops at a door and starts to tap in a code on a brand new keypad, "Here we are.  This will just take a moment."

The door opens and their nostrils are instantly assaulted by an odd melange of smells.  The lights come on to reveal a large amount of laboratory glassware, heating mantles, fractional distillation columns, and other expensive looking equipment, all set up on several benches, and all clearly in use.

"Just put the cooler there." she gestures, "My son will be home in a little while, and he can set it up where he wants it.  It's for his work, you see.  He does Important Pharma... Pharmacup... ah... Important Pharmacuticle Research.  Thank you all for your help.  You're all good boys, your mothers must be so proud of you."  She glances at Juragga and lowers her voice, "Does he have a mother?"

Shard studies the obelisk.  It's hexagonal, about five metres tall and something under a metre in diameter at the base, half that at the top.  It is heavily corroded and looks old, and is covered with pictograms, very stylised images of people walking into a building... no a starship.  There seems to be a Hutt too, outside the ship, in a cage of some sort.  There is writing as well, which looks like an older form of Huttese...

Rhijans smiled, almost grimly.  "We assume he does...I don't ask many questions about parentage, though, as a general rule.  Some people get real touchy about that.  I'm glad we could help."  While his words were friendly enough, his tone was...distracted.  He jerked his head toward the door, and turned to Jalt and Dak.

"We should get back.  The boss is gonna get grumpy if we're too far overdue."  At this point, coming back down in the elevator, they should be able to retrieve the droids and proceed directly to the ship, no questions asked and as innocuous as any bystander could appear.

But Shard had sounded frustrated on her last comm call, and the time was stretching out.  Not everyone in the group was well-suited to waiting patiently for a situation to unfold...and if she ran into the wrong people when she got impatient, things could get really complicated...

Haarmon was breathing heavily and coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Walking around the corridors was about as much physical exercise as he'd gotten in years. Actually lifting something was so foreign to his experience that he was shocked he hadn't broken something. Namely, himself.

"Gotcha.... Bosss...." he heaved in between deep breaths. He was just happy it was over.

Hutt in a cage?

Frowning, Shard leans closer for another look, trying to decipher the language.  No dice; she recognizes it, but figuring out the content is a little beyond her faulty skill. "Void," she mutters, glancing around briefly.

Plenty of choices of passersby...

Searching the crowd for a likely candidate - someone with an open face and an unhurried walk - she picks a citizen out and (politely) accosts them.  "Excuse me."  The older woman tries a smile.  "This statue...what does it represent?"

The man looks from Shard to the obelisk and back again.  "How long's that been there?"  He scratches his head, then lowers his hand and waves a finger at the obelisk, "Yeah, right, I know what this is.  Let's think now... it's been a while since I heard the story."

"The people who live here came from... from somewhere else.  They used to be slaves to the Hutts, and then they were taken to another world to work a mine, or something.  Then they rose up and imprisoned their masters and stole a ship and flew it here."

He snorts, "Which would be stupid, because there's no way Dor-Tennia is far enough away from the Hutts for escaped slaves to be safe from them.  So I think it's just a story.  Anyway, it's supposed to have happened about a thousand years ago."

The group of rebels descend in the elevator, some of them exhausted from the work, others (like Juragga) not so much.

"Well look at that." Reldan says as the doors open, surprised to find the droids exactly where they were left.  At the end of the corridor a Bothan is examining the door, a concerned look on his face.  With barely a glance at the group, he reaches out and pushes the door opem, before stepping in nervously...

Rhijans nodded as the Bothan looked away.  "C'mon...we've got a deadline to beat, no time to stand around here."  The Bothan could report the crime, and if he did, they were safely seen exiting the elevator and therefore wouldn't be implicated.  Hopefully, nobody would think to ask the old lady upstairs before they got a chance to clear out and leave Dor-Tennia in their wake.  This was going to get complicated, very quickly, and he liked to keep things simple, when he could.

"Thanks for waiting for us," he said to UY.  "Didn't seem to make much sense to have you following us around while we were doing some grunt labor for someone else...you would almost certainly have been bored by the whole experience."  He wasn't going to add that the droid's propensity for vocalization could also have led to a slipped comment that would have left them facing some very awkward questions.  Nobody, even droids, liked having flaws or weaknesses discussed in public...most often, not in private, either.  So it made little sense to bring it up.