Haarmon's stomach drops. He was not in a position to fight off that many of anything. And he wasn't such a hotshot pilot. And the Bantha could barely fly anyway.

So what did that leave?

Hey, can you figure out what they want from here? Are they like, coming in here to kill? To steal?

He made sure his blaster was near to hand. He checked the entrance ramp to make sure it was closed. He then made sure it was locked and couldn't be opened from the outside.

He looked over the Bantha's controls. What options did he have to discourage unwanted guests?

OOC: What do we have? electrified hull? Cute little drop-guns? Smoke bombs? Oil slicks?

Kiran finishes his drink, and scratches at his cheek as he eyes Rhijans with narrowed eyes.  Then...  "Well, when you put it like that... "  His eyes flick towards the Rodian, again, and his expression grows thoughtful.

Then it clears, and he grins as he looks into his empty glass.  "Who wants another drink?"

Haarmon looks out across the landing field.  The group outside don't seem to be making any hostile movements.  A quick check confirms that the ramp is closed and locked, requiring an access code to open from outside.

Haarmon smacked himself on the forehead. They're stopping people from coming ON the ship, not off. Void, what a dummy.

How's it feel to be smarter than a grown man, huh?

He keyed the commlink.

+So, uh, how you guys doing in there? What's your return ETA look like? You think you could give me a few minutes' notice?+

He really didn't want to start a fight. But he for sure for sure didn't want to start one early enough that the whole place would come running just as the others wanted to get in.

"Not me," Shard confesses, "though I like your offer."  She grimaces. "I'm off the stuff right now; wasn't doing me any good, and probably wouldn't."  That said with a heavy sigh that is not in the least feigned; it's taking all of her willpower to not accept.  So many reasons to take him up on it...and one that holds her back.

The team.

Then she twitches when Haarmon links in. "Eh, ship's calling anyway.  I'll get this, everyone." That said with a flick of the hand toward Jalt, Juragga, and Rhijans.  They seem to have everything proceeding nicely here, and nothing in Haarmon's voice screams emergency.

Yet.

Moving a step away, she triggers the comm.  "We're still working on parts," Shard replies.  "But no problem about the notice.  Anything to report?"

How to answer that?

+Sure, sure, yeah. Just, uh, not anything I'd necessarily want everyone in a seedy bar, or audience chamber, or, like, dirty throne room to overhear.+

Rhijans shrugged, looking down at his glass.  As alcohol went, Corellian Ale wasn't particularly strong, but he was nursing it, anyway, so he had plenty left.  "Appreciate the offer, but I think I'm good for now."  He gave the room another slow look...it was easy to play the part of 'crew security specialist', as he kind of saw himself in that role, anyway...or, at least, the one best-suited to recognize and either intercept or deflect trouble before it got to someone mission-critical.

Juragga, of course, was happy to take another, and he let that be known with a Wookiee caterwaul of glee.

The conversation was boring, but the drinks were halfway decent.

Jalt also accepts another.  Kiran orders the drinks, then says, "I'll be back in a bit." before making his way back to the table where the two men that Jalt had identified as members of his team are still seated.  He leans over the table, an appears to be engaged in conversation with them.

By the time the drinks are served, he is heading back to the group at the bar.

His two team members, meanwhile, leave the table and move away in different directions...

"Sorry about that.  Had something I needed to attend to."  Kiran picks up his fresh drink...

Rhijans shrugged.  His eyes had followed Kiran, even though his face had been pointed at a slightly different angle, so from a small distance, he had appeared to just be checking over the bar.  "No problem...some projects just can't wait." He sipped his drink again.

Shard makes a quick nod to Haarmon -- even if he isn't here -- when he answers.  ++ Got it.  We'll catch up with you later, Haarmon. ++ It's all she has right now, not wanting to reply any other way in a seedy bar.  "Just some small stuff, nothing pressing," she states to the others, turning her back again on the bar and leaning against it.

The older woman is rather certain they'll get the idea; they're not on a shipping run, and Haarmon has absolutely zero reason to contact them for small stuff.

Off goes Kiran.  She wants to comment, holds back; if someone is eavesdropping, it won't look good. "Friendly guy," she instead fires to Jalt with a faint smile. "Glad you two know each other; you had me worried at the start, void curse it all."

Aaaaaand, back he comes.

"You people often get this kind of mess around here?" she inquires, circling a finger pointed upward.  "Star destroyers...their little winged devils flying around firing at everything?  'Cause where I come from, everyone would be chattering about it, even the people with something to hide.  Here?"  The finger flicks to indicate the bar.  "Nothing.  Like it's happenstance."

"Funny that.  If you go an hang around the tables, you'll find that quite a few people are talking about the Impies.  But nobody knows what's going on.  At least not the ones who are talking."  Kiran laughs.  "And the ones who aren't talking about the situation are keeping quiet so they won't look stupid if the truth comes out.  That, or they're trying to avoid looking like they know too much."

A shriek of pain echoes across the crowded room.  One of Kiran's companions has the Rodian, Jaradda Brinn, pinned flat across the table with one arm twisted painfully and held behind him.  The other, meanwhile is holding Jaradda Brinn's drinking friends at bay with a blaster...

Rhijans gave an inward nod of satisfaction.  Even if the Rodian managed to convince the local heavies that he was innocent of what they were asking him about, there were seeds of mistrust sown.  Shouldn't take long for word of suspicions to reach Dargo, which would slow down anything Brinn was trying to accomplish as far as taking someone else's job.

That was IF he convinced them.  And, frankly, Rhijans suspected there was about as good a chance the plot he'd suggested might exist actually did, as there was that Brinn was just trying to get in Dargo's good graces.  It could turn out that the Rodian's plan was exposed by sheer dumb luck.  Either way, their particular errand was effectively taken care of...Brinn wasn't taking anyone's job anytime soon.

Rhijans, however, studiously avoided looking directly at what happened.  "I'm sure most here don't know...and a lot of those who suspect are afraid that suggesting they know something could come back to paint them as collaborators."  He shrugged.  "That kind of suspicion and paranoia is one of the reasons I never wanted to join an organization like this...I have enough of that in my life already."  He kept his voice in the low, barely audible mutter that he'd been using, keeping his words almost totally private to the group immediately around him by letting them get overwhelmed by the background noise in the place.

Shard can't help but chuckle. "Well, just like everywhere I have been, then."  Her eyes flick to the Rodian, and a brief pang of sorrow cuts through her.  Regardless of his own place in this organization, they've possibly framed an innocent person.  At least the enforcers didn't simply shoot their target, choosing instead a path of greater danger and lower collateral.

One has to respect that, if nothing else.

Rhijans' plan has, as usual, borne fruit.  Extricating themselves now would be a tad early; besides, Jalt likely has some catching up to do with his friend.  She glances up at Juragga, elbows his arm (the only place she can reach).  "You would have been good to have around in a place like this ten, fifteen years ago," Shard quips.  "Keep everyone from bugging me."

Well. That wasn't... at all how he'd thought that would go.

Now what?

The bad guys didn't seem to be itching to come in the ship, anyway. That was something.

He'd really rather be getting some advice on this, though.

+ Well, just let me know when you have a quiet second, yeah? +

Juragga nodded and grinned a fierce Wookiee grin.  "GWaaaaaaUUUUUHhHHhRrrr," he commented.  It's what I'm here for.

It seemed their plan was working. And they'd hopefully spared the Rodian from a quick execution, as well.

Kiran smiles a satisfied smile, and downs the remainder of his drink, as his associates escort Jaradda Brinn forcibly out of the cantina.  "That's my cue to leave too.  I'm going to have a quiet word with Jaradda, somewhere private."

Before he can go, though, Jalt lays a hand on his arm, "I'm glad you weren't involved in what happened to Harlon.  But tell me, before you leave... I know Dargo ordered him killed, but who actually did it?"

Kiran's face falls, and he looks down at his feet for a moment.  Then he raises his head.  "It was the Drogazi.  One of them, or maybe both.  Who knows with those two?"

"Thank you."

The enforcer nods his head and claps Jalt on the shoulder, before turning away and heading towards the same exit as his associates...

Rhijans leaned over to Jalt.  "Does that mean we aren't done here yet?" he asked in a low murmur.  He managed to sound neither excited nor daunted about the prospect of hunting down a pair of individuals in the bar...it was, as was so often the case, little more than just business to him, aside from the fact that he understood Jalt's personal investment in the matter.

"No, we aren't done here.  Not by a long shot." Jalt growls.  Then he shakes his head.  "But we have other priorities.  First we need to get the Bantha back in shape, and then we can get rid of our Imperial passenger, before taking Kourene back to base."

"The Drogazi, and Dargo, can wait a little while.  Dargo ordered Harlon's death, so he'll get some payback on that.  But the Drogazi probably enjoyed doing it way too much, so they'll get their share too."

"They'll just need to wait until we've cleared our priorities.  By the time we get back here, they'll have built up some interest on the debt."

"Works fine for me," Shard replies quietly, touching Jalt on the shoulder.  "This has been pretty hard going for you," she continues in the same tone.  "Must be rough, holding it all together with this kind of news hitting you from all angles."

The older woman sighs, turning back to leaning against the bar. "But we'll get 'em for you, Jalt.  And the cursed galaxy will be a bit better after they're gone."  And then more of the same will move in, she silently considers, but there's no point saying that.  This isn't about cleaning up the universe.  This is about what Jalt wants to do, for his brother and -- mostly -- himself.

"We'd better head back and 'report in'," she continues.  "Also, I'd like to check in with Haarmon while we walk.  Something is clearly wrong, although it's not pressing  I'll ping him while we walk...everyone finished their drinks?" It comes as a mild surprise to Shard that she hadn't even touched her own.  "And you can fill us in on these Drogazi."

Haarmon, meanwhile, ran a check on the defense systems. The underbelly blaster. The door. He wanted to make sure that, when it was time to get things done, the things that would be getting things done were working.

Hey, he thought to the child, You sensing anything I ought to be concerned about?

Juragga rumbled uneasily.  He sympathized with Jalt's plight.  His own family missing, enslaved by the Imperials... he itched to do more.  And, short of actually DOING something to find his family... only two things scratched that itch.

Since 'mayhem' wasn't an option at the moment... he ordered another drink.

Rhijans nodded assent to Shard's rundown of the situation.  He'd been nursing the same drink the entire time, and Corellian Ale was one of the options known better for its flavor than for its ability to alter the consciousness of the drinker...there wasn't much left and even if he'd been needing to drink it all in a hurry, it wouldn't have had that much effect on him.

"We need to go pick up our parts...and report on our method of payment.  And, potentially, provide some other payment or incentive, depending on how reliable Barse is..."  It wouldn't surprise him if Barse was somehow less than eager to deliver on his end of the deal.

The group head out of the cantina, Juragga carrying a fresh drink.

Jalt scowls, "The Drogazi are two Gran.  Brothers maybe - it's hard to tell with Gran.  In any case, the Drogazi are always together.  Nobody has ever seen one of them alone.  At least nobody who ever realised what they were looking at."

"They're nasty, vindictive and cruel.  Dargo puts a lot of work their way, and they've never let him down."

"Nasty, vindictive, and cruel..." Rhijans mused aloud.  It sounded like a lot of people in his former career field.

"How professional are they?" he asked.  That was the true test.  Vindictive could easily be turned into a weakness to exploit...with the right personality associated with it.  Usually, it was the right personality...vindictive implied some personal investment in the situation, usually to the point of being overly connected to the events...professional detachment went right out the window.

It was the vindictive professionals that were really scary...they took it personally, like the others...but they kept such a careful rein on things that it was really hard to get them exposed and vulnerable in any way.

"Oh, they're professional enough.  They just really enjoy their work." Jalt says as they walk back towards the stores.  "And if there's any doubt, they always err on the side of overkill."

He turns into the store, calling out, "Barse!  We're back!  Where's my stuff?"

Barse grins, "One of my boys just told me that Kiran took in Jaradda Brinn.  Good work.  Say, you people wouldn't be interested in a bit more work would you?"