Rhijans Thanus pulls away, and swings the truck around the first corner that complies with the instructions given by the stormtroopers.

Before long, the truck, along with its escort swoops, is skirting around the edge of the closed section of the city.  The vehicles cross an overpass, and a glance in the direction of the tall medical centre, with its strobing beacons, reveals that there are quite a few troopers down there.

Worse... they are supported by AT-STs...

"Huh..." Rhijans managed wittily, upon seeing the concentration of military force around the Med Center.  He considered calling the others, briefly, but decided against it.  A little bit of random commlink chatter expressing curiosity was one thing...a call for caution would almost certainly draw unwanted attention.  He'd just have to rely on Jacobs to show a little restraint and common sense...

For some reason, that thought didn't strike him as reassuring.  Rather than dwell on it, he thought again of the troop build-up.  "Maybe Palpatine's getting some warts removed, or something..."  He kept driving, however, without changing his course or speed.  He was just a businessman, trying to make alternate arrangements to pick up a cargo...keep driving like one and the story would be more plausible, if something went wrong and Imperials started asking questions.

Rhijans keeps driving, careful to heed traffic regulations.  At one point, a pair of Imperial Lambda class shuttles fly over the road ahead, descending towards the medcentre.

Fortunately the way ahead seems clear, for the moment, except for the usual traffic that might be expected in any city.

Finally they approach a junction where vehicles seem to be heading in the general direction that they, themselves, need to be travelling in.  More importantly, those vehicles don't appear to be getting turned back.

(NPCd)

"Two shuttles?" Neary comments, leaning forward to see out through the wind shield, "That either means a couple of Imperial VIPs who don't like each other enough to travel together... or a lot of troops."

Rhijans snorted.  "Did you SEE the Med Center?  There's already a lot of troops on the ground.  Maybe they're recalling them..."  The sheer volume of troops on the ground indicated the presence of a VIP...he could only wonder at who.  Right now, they had a mission to accomplish...but there were more than enough of them to do that.  He silently wished luck to Jacobs and the others that were doing some snooping on the ground...he'd probably rather be doing that, but he'd let himself get stuck behind the wheel, and that made him responsible for the task assigned to the transport...at least in his mind, and that was the only place it mattered, to him.

A short while later, the transport and the two escort swoops turn into a large structure which seems to be some sort of cargo handling terminal, attached to the Ker Aldas space port.

There are a lot of people and droids about, and plenty of vehicles, but several large holographic notices inform everybody in the area that the port itself is closed for both arrivals and departures.

Rhijans drives about for a few minutes, until he manages to find a parking place, and the group exit the vehicle.

R2-O0 moves towards another R2 unit.  There is a brief exchange of whistles, chirps, and bleeps... and then the two go their separate ways.

Rhijans glanced over at Jalt, then back at their R2 unit.  "First contact, I take it?  Guess we'll find out, soon enough."  He leaned casually against the transport, managing to look relatively unconcerned to the casual eye...but intense eyes scanned the cargo terminal for anyone coming their direction.

"I'd be really surprised if he found his contact so soon after getting here.  But you never know you're luck." Reldan replies, watching the droids with some interest.  "Ah, look.  They're going off in different directions.  Guess it will take a bit longer."

With a sigh, the smuggler joins Rhijans in leaning against the transport.

"So what do you think might be going on with the Imperials?"

Rhijans shrugged.  "Given their focus around the Med Center, I'm guessing one of two scenarios.  First case, some VIP had a medical emergency that required coming planet-side for treatment.  Not likely, Imperial medical facilities are generally pretty comprehensive...but there's still only room for so many options in a ship's medbay.  So it's possible."

He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  "Option Two is, someone they're looking for is inside the Med Center and they are taking NO chances on that individual getting away.  With our luck, that individual would be whoever we're supposed to be contacting...but I'm doubtful of that being the case.  AT-ST deployments aren't exactly SOP for apprehending subversives.  So I'm guessing someone's there for treatment...and it's someone that the Sector authorities want to make darn good and sure comes through the treatment without mishaps."

In either case, he was feeling antsy.  It was one thing to be patient while doing something slowly, like getting information from a stranger in a bar.  It was another thing to be stuck just waiting.  Forced inactivity had never been his strong suit...

R2-O0 trundles about the area, chirping a greeting to any droid he encounters - everything from astromechs to protocol units, and even accosting Wheely - twice.  It seems that the droid is being very thorough.

After what seems like an unbearably long period of time, a red R2, retrofitted with the head of an R5, wanders into the area.  R2-O0 speaks to it, receives a response, and replies to that.  Then he seems to become quite agitated, whistling and spinning on the spot.

It looks as though the little droid has found his contact.  Either that, or he's picked up a girlfriend.  The other droid starts to move away, and R2-O0 follows it.  Both are moving, quite quickly, towards a ramp which leads down below ground level.

Rhijans noticed the exchange between the two droids, trying to split his attention between watching their R2 unit, seeing which droids it was contacting, looking for anyone else that was paying inordinate attention to the exchange, and watching for anyone that was paying unusual attention to them.

So he almost missed it when the two astromechs started rolling away.

"So, ah...do you think that's our cue to follow?" he asked.  He really hated this whole 'only the droid will know' secrecy...he could understand it, but he still hated it.

The group follow the two droids down the ramp, hurrying a little to try and keep up, hopefully without drawing too much attention.  Fortunately, nobody really seems to be paying to much heed to them.  Most of the other people in the area seem to be involved in negotiations of their own (some of them quite heated).

The ramp leads down into a long, straight, well-lit tunnel with alcoves staggered along each side of it.  Each alcove contains a set of numbered blast doors, and they stretch out as far as the eye can see.  Every so often, a smaller corridor crosses the main one.

The two droids are a short distance ahead, just passing an alcove where a group of men are using a repulsorlift sled to bring several cargo containers out from beyond that set of doors.

Further away, more people can be seen, some taking items out of various alcoves, others putting items in to alcoves, and still more simply moving along the corridor, with or without cargo of different sorts.

It looks to be some kind of storage depot.

Reldan Jalt sets off in pursuit of the droids.  An astromech droid represents a fairly major investment for an independent pilot, both in terms of credits spent, and in terms of credits saved on ship repairs and maintenance.

So there is plenty of incentive to keep the droids in sight.

"Makes sense, I think.  Hide a supply cache in the spaceport's storage warehouses.  I bet there are people coming and going here all the time.  Stuff being transferred to, and from, ships.  Good cover."

"Yeah, an ewok among other ewoks is much harder to find than an ewok among wookies."

As they move she does her best to look inconspicious, even if she is more like a wookie hiding among ewoks, simply due to her race.  Hence her cloak with a nice hood to conceal this fact most of the time - it is after all a time honoured tradition to walk around in such a fashion.

Rhijans merely nodded.  Hiding in plain sight was an often-used, very effective method of avoiding attention, as people tended to avoid questioning someone who looked like they actually belonged in a location.

The thought left him wondering just how inconspicuous they looked.  Neary's cloak wasn't exactly commonplace here, although it didn't really stand out, either.  Jalt looked very much in his element.  He couldn't really judge himself, but he tried to assume a posture of casual indifference.  At the same time, he kept his eyes open, watching for anyone who seemed to be paying more attention to them than seemed normal...or for anyone who seemed to keep turning up in his field of vision too often.  He was sure Jalt would keep track of the droids.

The group continue to follow the droids, turning into a side tunnel after a short distance.  There are less people here, but not so few that anybody walking along would be as obvious as an angry rancor.

Finally, the droids come to a halt in one of the alcoves, and the strange droid  plugs itself into a socket in the wall.  The heavy blast doors start to open with a loud rumble.  Beyond the doors is a room, perhaps twenty metres square, containing numerous cargo containers.

The droids move forward into the storeroom, and there is a brief exchange between them.  They change direction, heading over to one side of the room, where there is a stack of five containers, each of them just about the right size to contain an R2.  Stencilled on the side of every one of them is the legend, "CF-247 ION CONDENSORS - FRAGILE - HANDLE WITH CARE"

Rhijans looked at his companions.  "Our cargo, I take it?"  He didn't know enough about starship repair work to know if an 'ion condenser' was a more specific version of 'power converter' or if was just some kind of water-purification equipment.  But the droid seemed to be going along with everything, so he really had no reason to question.

"Don't suppose anyone saw a repulsor-sled for rent, did they?  Something we could use to move these back to the transport?"  The one thing he was absolutely certain about, at the moment, was that he didn't want to be the one trying to get the transport down to this particular door.

"We passed some who used one, they may perhaps be able to tell us where to find one, if not lend us theirs."

Neary node in the direction they had come from and begins to walk in that direction. A somewhat warped smile appears briefly on her face.

"Nothing odd about that, this being a storage and all. Shouldn't take long."

Rhijans chuckled darkly.  Given the normal treatment Neary seemed to attract, he wouldn't be surprised to see her return, very shortly, with something.  And, quite possibly, with a crew to run it, as well.

In the meantime, he stepped in closer to the crates, giving them a careful visual once-over.  It was not unthinkable that someone had set up some kind of security alarm system on them, if not some kind of booby trap...their very innocuous nature was a great reason for them to be left alone, but it was also no guarantee that all was as it seemed.

Neary heads off to find some sort of transport for their cargo, while the others study the containers themselves.

A quick examination reveals nothing immediately suspicious about them, no sign that they are rigged with any kind of alarms or traps.  R2-O0's new friend stands watch, allowing the visitors to examine the cargo.

Their droid has, after all, provided the correct sign and countersign to gain access to this room, and its contents.

Still, it watches them, carefully, just to be sure.

Starship components were not the kind of cargo Rhijans was accustomed to transporting, and as he looked at the boxes, he fought the sensations of his eyes trying to cross as every side of each container looked the same.  When he realized he was examining the same side of a container for a third time, he shook his head in mild disgust.

"I feel like a damned Dewback," he muttered, as he stepped back to the entrance of their little cargo niche.  "They could train a Bantha to do this."

For all the grumbling in his tone, there was a part of him that was intensely grateful that, thus far, everything seemed to be running very routine and by the numbers.  There was another part of him that was almost screaming that something had to go wrong at any second.

He tried his best to ignore that second voice.  Things had already gone off the rails, after all...they should have been here hours ago, and would have been, had it not been for the Imperial closure of the spaceport.  That's plenty of stuff gone wrong, he told himself.  The Fates should be satisfied.

Somehow, though, he had a strong suspicion that they weren't done being Fate's playthings just yet.

Walking back while looking around Neary ransacked her memory as to where the nearest sled had been.  It was quite interesting to watch people, but she did not have time to sit down and gawk at the and make up little stories in her head, stories no doubt far from the truth but quite entertaining sometimes nevertheless.

A little bit up ahead she spots a man leaning up against a repulsor sled, to the extent you can lean against them.  Her guess would be that he was partway through a load of large containers from his way as glaring at them.

"Hey there.  Work never stops, eh?"

She greeted him with a smile and struck a pose nearby where he could see her face.

"Say, could I borrow the sled for a while?  I've got five containers to move and, well, I am running a little late...  You'd get it right back and you'd make my day."

Hopefully he did like girls, and taking breaks.

The man, possibly ship's crew, judging by the coveralls with the name Lady Tarsus emblazonned on them, front and back, regards Neary suspiciously as she approaches.  Then, as she draws closer, he seems to relax a little.

He even smiles.  "Sure.  Why not.  It's not like I'm in a real hurry, with the port being locked down, and all.  And my so-called team has all decided to go for a break.  So maybe I'm due for one too."

He steps back from the sled, and waves Neary towards the control yoke, "Knock yourself out.  It belongs to the depot anyway.  I'll find another after my break."


Back in the storage room, Rhijans is getting... edgy.  As he steps away from the containers, the two droids swivel their heads to watch him.  R2-O0's contact chirps nervously, but Reldan Jalt's astromech  gives a more reassuring whistle.