Juragga howled in frustration and gestured to Haarmon, hoping his partner would translate for him.

Haarmon's face pulls up into the guilty expression of a boy caught sleeping in class. But he catches himself and it morphs into a scowl. "What?" he says to the wookie, "It's not enough I gotta watch your back now I gotta be your secretary too?"

And then the scowl softens and he shrugs. "Sorry." He looks up to the Colonal. "Rags says that we should to do both. Slaves and Nergon. And he's asking about who can pilot a transport."

He takes a moment to consider. "As much as I hate agreeing with the walking toupee over there, I think he's got the right of it. We slice a transport and sneak our way in. Once we're in, how hard can it be to wire the Nets so we're picking up the Nergon and the slaves? A slice is a slice. And once you grab the Empire by the balls you might as well keep squeezing. Am I right, Rags?"

His voice is a little over-friendly, trying to make amends perhaps for his failure to be there for what just might be his only friend.

Juragga hooted his agreement.  The kid might be a pain, and write checks with his mouth that required Juragga to cash with his fists - but he was a true friend, and 'Ragga owed him.

Rhijans was trying not to roll his eyes, when suddenly, something the kid said actually made sense...kind of.  "Y'know...maybe we're going about this the hard way," he cut in.  "I mean, if we're going to do all this slicing..." he paused and looked at Haarmon, and added, "and I assume, since you brought it up, you're at least passing familiar with computers, because I couldn't slice my way into a forgery charge..."

He turned his attention back to the group and continued, "We've already got a transport.  Granted, it's only a YT-1300.  But we can theoretically slice a clearance for it to land with some kind of cargo they'd need, and then once we're on the ground, we can take care of the rest on the fly."  He shot Dak another look, and said, "Somehow, I don't think we'd fool anyone there with sliced orders to ship the slaves out to somewhere else...if they just barely sent them in there, turning around and shipping them out again is likely to get someone calling to verify the order, and that's the supernova in our flight path all over again.  Routine and innocuous...until we're ready to turn out the lights on the place, and then we send everything off the rails in one shot.  Just need to time our departure to the arrival of a larger transport...preferably, one that's primarily automated.

AND, we need a pilot for the second transport.  I might be able to fake it, as long as nothing goes wrong...but I'd hate to be betting all our lives on my ability to fly a transport ship."

Haarmon makes a kind of a one-shoulder shrug at Rijanis' comment. "Computers I got. No problems there." He considers the rest for a moment or two. "See, I figure guys on the ground, they do what they're told. And almost everyone believes what the computer says is so, no matter if it don't make sense and no matter if they know it ain't right. You're the guy in charge of checking transport manifests, right? And the datapad says some guy with a title bigger than your pension wants the slaves? And you know they just got there? What do you do? Call him up and ask what the hell he's thinking? Or do you load the ship and go home and watch Twi'leck dancing-girl holos before bedtime? You think they send the smart ones to watch landing pads on gas mines? Am I right?"

He shurgs again, both shoulders this time.

"But you guys been at this thing longer'n me. Maybe you got it right. But whichever, I can get us in."

Rhijans nodded.  "True, ninety percent of the time.  I'm just trying to come up with something as close to foolproof as possible.  There's always an occasional officer out there who has a little initiative and thinks to question his orders if they disagree with everything he's been getting for the past several weeks...not to mention the projected long-term plans of the assignment.  We're already planning on making trouble once we hit the ground...no need to broadcast those intentions any further than necessary."

If the kid was half as good as he seemed to think he was, the computer part of the problem was covered.  If the Imperials hadn't gotten around to putting a full garrison in place yet, he wasn't too worried about handling stuff on the ground.  He looked over at the Colonel again, and repeated, "What's the status of security forces on the ground there?"

Maybe it's the booze - that Wookie wine held quite a kick.  Maybe it's the different people, all talking.  Maybe it's just her relief that people haven't shouted down her idea that the slaves were a high priority.

Shard can't figure out what the heck 'Rags' is trying to say.

At least she has worked her way through the nickname issue, and no longer considers wreaking horrible vengeance on the young hotshot.  Approval grows as he goes through his own feelings on the matter - the back and forth between he and Rhijans indicates some pretty honed minds at work.  Shard settles back and tries to mentally pick holes in the proposed plan.  So far, it's not happening - most of the time, they come up with the same questions as she does and answer them quite astutely.

If they can get in without trekking along under the radar, through ice and snow....

"Need uniforms," she mutters.  "Or do they contract out for their 'supply runs'?"

Admittedly, the plan was crazy.  But then, so was the whole thing to begin with.

"We have no details of their supply schedule." Kourene says, with a shake of his head, "The mining operation is in the process of being upgraded, and they don't have a regular schedule for incoming supplies at the moment."

"They have, however, used civilian contractors in the past to ship out ore and crystals which were never considered valuable enough to warrant military transportation."

On the map, an area near the west of the facility blinks red, "There is a landing field here, just outside the mining complexes perimeter fence, close to the gate which gives access to the warehouses.  The fact that they've used civilian transports in the past, for non-priority cargoes, should give Captain Lund an opening to land there."

The Colonel listens to the comments being made regarding slaves, and nods, "Releasing any slaves would be good.  However, you will need to obtain transport for them from the facility."

"I'll put 'obtaining transport' on my list, then," Shard notes.  If she has to go full guerilla and stay behind, that's her primary concern.  I really should have gotten off the sauce, the woman dolefully considers.  Maybe if she stops now and starts working out...

...tomorrow.  Definitely tomorrow.

"How about requisitioning equipment?" she asks.  "We got through the last mission with the bare minimum - understandable, given it was supposed to be a milk run.  But if we're going on this one, could we at least pick up some appropriate gear?"

Rhijans nodded.  "Yeah, if this is going to turn into a potential guerilla assault, we're definitely going to need better firepower.  Blaster carbines, for most of us...they'd be a toy, for the Wookie, but a full-on blaster rifle wouldn't hurt him any."  Transportation, they could secure...unless the place was crawling with white armor.  Then it would be more problematic.  A problem to be solved when they were on the ground, there, though...and he was good with that.  While he liked accurate intel, he'd learned that the best plans usually ended up being the ones made on the fly.

"And explosives...or at least grenades.  Something that can easily do a lot of collateral property damage."  Thermal detonators would be ideal, but the suckers were temperamental beasts and he wasn't sure everyone else wanted to risk on cooking off before its time.  "Unless we've got a demolitions expert available, something that will make a big enough bang to take down buildings or make them structurally compromised, without needing pinpoint placement.  And the more foolproof, the better."  It was another skill he'd told himself he wanted to pick up...some day.  Hadn't had much need for it, yet...he'd always needed more precision and less damage.  But life was changing.

"You'll be able to requisition demolition charges, thermal detonators and blaster carbines from the Quartermaster." Kourene confirms, "I'd recommend not taking too much though.  If there is a heavy Imperial presence there, then the success of this mission may depend on looking more like the crew of a civilian transport than a squad of heavily-armed rebels."

"We don't have a demolition expert who can go with you on this mission, which is why Blue Squadron are being assigned to perform a bombing run, if necessary."

One of the fighter pilots interrupts, "Colonel, the Z-95 doesn't have a hyperdrive... how are we going to get a squadron of them to Alrirkr?"

"You'll use landing claws to secure yourselves to the hull of the Captain Lund's ship, and ride with it through hyperspace.  We know this will slow things a little, but it can't be helped."

Rhijans had started making a mental list of requisitions, which was interrupted when he heard the plan for delivering the Headhunters to the right system.  Well, now...THAT'S a solution I'd have never thought of...  It was dangerous, ill-advised, and totally outside any design specs for either ship model involved, as far as he knew.  In other words, it had all the hallmarks of classic Rebel strategy.  Which meant that it just might work...

Blaster carbines...he figured two, maybe three.  He'd take one, for sure, and he didn't see Jacobs saying no to one.  The Wookiee would probably prefer his bowcaster, and Rhijans wasn't sure whether Shard or the kid, Dak, would want one.  He was pretty sure K'thar wouldn't want one, and truth be told, he didn't know if he'd trust K'thar with one.

A couple of thermal detonators, maybe ten kilos of detonite, with countdown timers...and a remote detonator, just in case...they should be able to conceal that much in an innocuous-looking cargo box that wouldn't attract any attention, tucked in a stray corner of the engine room among the spare parts.

They might just be able to pull this off, after all...

Lund had been sitting quietly through the briefing, letting others ask the questions while keeping a mental note of what hadn't been asked so that he could ask it himself at the end of the meeting.  So far he's been pretty relaxed, just listening to what Kourene has to say.

Now though, he's suddenly got something that really needs to be asked.

"Wait now.  You're talking about clamping fighters on to the my ship, like she was some sort of tug?  How many fighters are we looking at, Colonel?"

Rhijans looks ready to turn this infiltration into a full-blown assault.  Shard hopes it doesn't come to that, but she keeps her mouth shut for now - the Colonel seems to have made the point for her.  Blaster pistol...check.  That'll do for her, and she doubts anyone will look twice at it or the modifications she plans for the weapon.

Then their pilot speaks up, with understandable concerns for his ship.  Cocking an eyebrow, Shard waits for a reply.

There really isn't much more for her to do at the moment.

Juragga nodded and leaned back in his seat with a satisfied growl.  He folded his arms behind his head and let the others talk about the ship issues.  He had his bowcaster; while they were offering up laser carbines, he preferred his tribal weapon.  He was a better shot with it, anyway, even if the more 'modern' weapon did have longer range, and he yoweled as much to Haarmon.

"RRrraaaaWWWWWGH!" he commented, asking about the possibility of a protocol droid being assigned to them.

Mark looked over at the Wookiee. He nodded his head as if he understood. "Right, I think he wants to know when we eat."

Mark shook his head. He was guessing the intent of what Juragga said, but he would never be sure.


rolled 7 using 3 dice with the WEG Classic system with rolls of 2,{Wild}4,1. Alien Species to understand Wookiee.

Juragga let out a pitiful "WaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHRRRRuuuuuhhhhlll!", shook his head in exasperation and buried his face in his hands.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Wed 27 Apr 2011.

Shard rubs her head.  Either the alcohol was lubricating the right brain cells, or she was remembering more of her Wookie than she previously thought.  "Actually...I think he was saying something about wanting to stick with his bowcaster.  More experience with it.  And maybe...  Hatrack swings from vines?  No, wait!  ...getting a protocol droid?"

That phrase was an odd one in Wookie, but she had heard it often enough in the past to be able to recognize it.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:43, Wed 27 Apr 2011.

Haarmon raises one eyebrow at Shard's efficient translation. "So you're not just a dynamite set of lips, eh? Nice." He turns to the rest of the room. "So, why doesn't someone point me at a nice computer terminal, huh? Something hooked into the Feeds and the Nets and such. Let me see what I can dig up so far as schedules and shipping lanes and garrison rotations and all that. You could all make some better plans if you had some better info. You can only shoot the bad guys if you know where they are, am I right? Rags? Back me up on this one."

As if to demonstrate, Haarmon pulls another lightning fast draw, does another fancy spin, holsters his weapon and sits back, and offers Shard a wink, looking rather pleased with himself the whole time.

Rhijans watched the quick-draw demonstration again, once again avoiding rolling his eyes.  It dawned on him that he just might have to take the blaster away from the kid, for his own sake...if he pulled that thing like that in the wrong company, he'd be ventilated eight or nine different ways.  It was a holo-vid draw...fast, flashy...and almost guaranteed to totally screw up any accurate shooting, whatsoever.

There was a chance...a slim chance, but a chance...the kid had actually practiced drawing AND firing.  At a target.  If that was the case, he might be okay.  There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out for sure, and that was to see how the kid did under fire.  He must've done something right, somewhere along the line, to win the Wookiee over, so there could be more there than what was seen on the surface.

"Lack of intel is the biggest obstacle to any operation, kid," he stated.  "Anything you can dig up before we have to leave will be an improvement...just be damn sure it can't be traced back here."  He waited to see if the Colonel countermanded that, and wondered, for a moment, what a YT-1300 would look like with a squadron of Z-95s clamped onto its hull.  Contemplating Lund's reluctant expression, he tried to figure out just where on the spectrum the 'captain' fell, between 'unwilling participant' and 'rebel zealot'.

"We're talking about four Z-95s." Kourene explains, "According to our tech experts, a YT-1300 should be able to handle them.  They'll attach themselves once you're out of the atmosphere, so there'll be no drag.  They'll also be running their drives while you're in hyperspace, which will counteract the extra mass."

He regards the wookiee for a moment, "If we get access to a protocol droid at some point, we'll certainly consider an assignment to this group, at least on a part-time basis."

"It will take some time to make final preparations for the mission." the Colonel responds to Haarmon Dak, "Probably at least an hour for your team-mates to requisition gear, and for us to load supplies and equipment onto Captain Lund's ship.  We can arrange for you to have access to a terminal."

Kourene looks around the room in the silence which follows.  Finally he says, "If there are no further questions, let's get to work on this."

With some amusement, Shard pulls herself to her feet. "Absolutely, Colonel."  A small smile twitches the corners of her mouth as she paces toward the door, pausing beside Haarmon's chair.  One of her hands falls on his shoulder - the shoulder of his gun arm.

"I haven't been a dynamite set of lips in years," she quietly notes.  The smile grows slightly, and her hand rises to touch his cheek. "But...thank you.  Let us know what you snag about the base."  One of her eyebrows cocks.  "And keep your pistol holstered, sport."

With that, she strides from the room, intent on finding the quartermaster.  There's a blaster to pick up, at the least; probably some cold weather clothing, just in case, along with ropes and climbing gear.  It just makes sense.  With all of that bouncing around her aching mind, it's a surprise to Shard that her amusement remains.

That boy...

It has been years since anyone bothered flirting with her so outrageously. Is it serious or is this is manner with everyone?  Could be both, even.  But by heaven, she can't help but take it as a compliment.

Possibly without realizing it, Haarmon has just made Shard's day.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:44, Mon 02 May 2011.

Four fighters.  Four fighters clamped onto the hull of the Gambit.

Vekkis does the calculations in his head.  He THINKS "Bold Gambit" can take it, as long as he doesn't have to fly her into combat with the things attached.

Which gives him pause for thought.  He looks at the self-proclaimed hotshot computer wizaed, where he stands talking to the weather-beaten woman, and calls out to him, "See if you can find out anything about Imperial fleet deployment in the system.  I don't want to be flying my ship into a war with a bunch of snub fighters slowing her down."

When the Colonel announced that the briefing was over, Rhijans sat down and finalized his list...a carbine, extra power packs, an extra pack for his pistol, a pair of thermal detonators, and ten kilos of detonite, with a pair of detonators so he had options for either a timer or a remote.  Until they knew more about how they were going in, he had cold-weather gear on a 'maybe' list.

Then he followed in Shard's tracks, down to the QM, to requisition what he needed.  While he was there, he gave them a heads-up that he might be back for the arctic gear, but he'd be back, for sure, to pick up the explosives before they left.  He was pretty sure nobody wanted him walking around the base with a bunch of bombs in hand...it went way beyond 'unsafe' into the realm of 'pure stupidity.'  He took a trip past the hangars and grabbed an empty parts box to store the explosives in, then swung back to the briefing room with the empty box, until he heard the final details on how they were going in, and whether or not he'd need the extreme climate gear.