It takes Juragga great effort not to sneer at the miner.  Instead he focuses on the nearest tabletop, staring blankly.  Inwardly he makes a note to dismember said miner if the opportunity arose without endangering their mission.

He glances over when Shard sits next to him, and grunts a "Rrrrgh," of appreciation.

His teal eyes narrow at Shard's assessment of the situation and he groans an agreement.  Fighting stormtroopers.  Like shelling lobsters.

What was it Shard was getting at?  He raised an amber brow and rumbled low.

Another hand, and Haarmon loses again, but not so much, and this time it's all scrip.  No real money changes hands, and two of the miners actually do worse than the brash, young rebel.

Shard and Juragga are engaged in a quiet conversation.  A couple more miners enter the room, and give the pair a wide berth.  The droid, meanwhile, seems perfectly content to keep talking to Rhijans, even if the subject of the conversation does not seem to cheer it up at all, "I loathe going into the mines.  The dust and grime are most horrendous, and it can be days before I get a proper lubricant bath afterwards.  It is a wonder that I have not simply seized up, though if I did the Imperials would, in all probability, just leave me down there.  Translating seldom requires much mobility.  Nobody ever cares about droids, least of all stormtroopers."

One of the newly arrived miners overhears him, and comments to his friends, "Isn't it about time they wiped that droid?  He'd be much happier if he couldn't remember anything."  A burst of laughter follows, but the droid simply gives a passable imitation of a sigh, "Do you see what I mean?"

Mark Jacobs crosses over to sit with Vekkis Lund and the two of them watch the game.

Shard grimaces.  "Missed that," she mutters.  There are any number of unpleasant associations with what she thought she heard, but doesn't figure Juragga for that level of crude.  Pity - just when she thought she was getting the language...

...well, better to be optimistic.  Next time, Shard.

"Haarmon looks like he's doing better," she notes.  "He any good at that game?  Wasn't, myself.  Not ever."  Well, except that one time she cheated outrageously.  Last time I'll ever do that, Shard considers, thinking about the fallout.  Oh, to be young and idealistic again...or at least younger and bitter.

These days, she just feels tired.

Her lip curls at the miners' behavior, both toward Juragga and the droid.  "Nice," the woman continues, sotto vocce.  "You figure Rhijans might be able to get the droid thinking about giving us a hand?  And getting a way out for it?"

Juragga repeats himself, but this time trying a different vocalization.  "I"m glad you're here" was the direct translation.

This beaten-down act was wearing on him.  What he'd like to do would be to smash half these miners and storm the mines, blasting away and looking for any Wookiees.  Or slaves in general.

"GraaaaaaaaaWWWWWWWrrrr," he caterwauled, commenting that Haarmon was better than he looked, but rarely as good as he thought he was.  And he couldn't repress a grin at that.

At Shard's comment, he eyeballed the droid, his teal gaze serious.  If the droid could be turned... yes, he could be an asset...

He muttered that it might be worth a try.

Rhijans shook his head in disgust at the attitude of the miners.  "Have they always treated you like a half-functional piece of mining gear?  Or was that something that came with the stormtroopers and slaves?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough that the miners in the room would be hard-pressed to overhear it, especially with Dak rambling on at the card game.

He'd give the kid credit for that...they had an abundant supply of distraction around, with him in tow.  And it looked like he might actually know a thing or two about cards.  There just might be hope for him, yet... Rhijans told himself.

The droid turned partly towards Juragga, "WrraawgooOORRRghAAurrh!" and bent back in a sardonic laughter. 

Although not altogether necessary the droid leaned in to listen to Rhijans, then lifted its arms helplessly, "Oh, I have never been fully accepted, but these blustering stormtroopers certainly made things so much worse, in so many ways.  I used to stay in the office and did not deal with many people, other than visitors, oh, those were the days, they were.  Apart from anything I can no longer recall, of course, due to those horrid mind wipes.  Positively dreadful, that, forgetting all.  Or so I assume, since I can not really recall anything.  Still, losing who you are, oh dear!"  The voice rises at the end and the droid flaps his arms about frantically.

"Glad to be here."  She could, Shard knows, be out there chatting up miners.  Sharing drinks.  Getting information.  Above all, not raising suspicion.  But there's more here than just a mission - there's a team.  Leaving one of them alone, disliked, and acting the part of a slave is unacceptable.  Wookies are proud, she knows, and social.  This has to be a heavy weight for Juragga to bear.

Cursed sure she isn't going to leave him to carry it alone.

"Mind your manners," she snaps when he yowls.  But there's a look of disgust in her eyes when she slants a glance sidelong at the other people in the room.  Easing up on the act, Shard is about to reply in truth when the droid cuts in with his own opinion on Haarmon's gambling capacity.  The older woman cocks an eyebrow, slowly nodding her head.  They have the droid halfway turned already, so eager it is to talk with someone new, to swap witticisms and complaints with people who won't threaten to have it wiped.

Or flat-out do so.

Juragga has his own opinion on the droid matter; Shard nods her head speculatively.  "Looks like Rhijans has a big lever to work with." Her hand itches, slipping under her cloak to touch cold metal.  Just one drink would take care of that itch, let her talk with these...imperials without wanting to tear out their slave-mongering eyes.

Yeah, get the weapon-grade ores.  Sure.  But Colonel, I'm not leaving here without those people.  No way, no how.

"Wonder how many ships got landlocked because of this computer mess?" she speculates aloud.  "Big ones, small ones...all kinds.  I'd look out on the field, 'cept we don't have windows and I wouldn't be able to see through the snow anyway."

So where can we find a list?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:25, Wed 13 July 2011.

Rhijans nodded his head appreciatively.  "I can only imagine..." he answered, sympathetically.  "I'd guess, initially, you wouldn't notice anything, since you'd just be running off core programming...but after a while, once your memory starts to fill back in again, there's got to be that realization that there was something...more, sometime before what you can remember.  Positively maddening, I would think..."  He shook his head, subtly showing his dismay for the droid's plight.

"Do they not get as many visitors, now?  I can't imagine, in a situation where you have so many different beings coming and going, that there wouldn't be a constant demand for your skills in just coordinating landing and loading duties.  How do they possibly operate up there when they've got you down talking to the slaves?"  He paused, his brow knitting in a scowl, and he added, "How many slaves could they possibly have that they'd need you to translate for?"

Slowly...don't plunge into asking the important questions, can't appear too curious about anything official.  He felt like he was on the verge of getting some really useful information...and he was actually starting to find himself a little fond of the droid's irascible demeanor.  That, in and of itself, surprised him...he'd never met a protocol droid that didn't make him itch to shoot the thing, until now.

A few hands in now, Haarmon starts playing defensively. Folding when he draws a bad hand, bluffing assertively instead of aggressively (at least not agrressively for Haarmon). He was still far more concerned with the game instead of with what he should be learning from the players, but all the same he allowed his attention to shift away from the cards and toward the others with him.

He picks up one of the bits of scrip from his pile. "What with this, then? They got you guys cashing cheques or what? They never heard of an ATM over here?"

The miners look unhappy as Haarmon asks about the scrip, most of them simply giving him dirty looks, but one provides an explanation"It's what they pay us in here since the Imperials moved in.  Theoretically it's worth the same as credits, but that only applies when we spend it here.  Anywhere else, and it's worthless, and if we go to the office to convert it to credits so we can spend it offworld, we lose half of it on the exchange rate.  Dammit!"  The last part in response to one of his workmates winning another hand... 

Shard and Juragga continue their quiet conversation, trying not to draw too much attention.  Though subtle and inconspicuous is difficult to pull off when one of you is a wookiee. 

Settling down a little, the droid rocks back and forth as if nodding.  "Oh yes, positively.  Knowing you have been here and lost who knows how much, maddening.  I dread the day they will do it again."

At Rhijans' questions the droid waves his arms up in dismay, getting a bit more lively again.  "Not at all, we get as many now as before!  They simple expect me to run back and forth and translate for all the 151 slaves in 21 different languages, not counting dialects, at my last count, while keeping up with customers and visitors alike!  Not to mention if, or shall I say when, they fill up the remaining 2,000 and some slots for slaves!  Utter madness!  And when I fail to fulfill their impossible schedule, who do they blame?  The droid, naturally!  Frightfully unfair, it is!  I can only be in one place at a time, after all.  Humans, so feebleminded at times!  Oh, no offence intended, Sir.  I am certain you, and your friends, are not as obtuse."

Rhijans grinned, and nodded.  "No offense taken...I'd be lying if I didn't admit to muttering curses against droids in general for the lack of ability of a select few.  It's easy to forget how broad a generalization may be when the group you're dealing with is limited to whatever is on hand."  His voice dropped again, and he asked, "You ever consider becoming an agent unto yourself?  I mean, I've heard of droids who decided that they were no longer willing to submit to memory wipes, and struck out on their own...does that thought ever tempt you?  If our positions were reversed, I can't help but think it'd be a constant nag at the back of my mind...don't think I'd have the patience to endure what they're putting you through."

He had to force himself to not hold his breath...this could be the make-or-break moment.  If the droid's behavior inhibitors were strong enough, the very idea would be so repugnant to it that the conversation would end, here and now...and the best he could hope for was that the droid didn't say anything to anyone about the conversation.

But, if luck smiled on them, even a little, this would open the door to some very helpful discussion and a mutually beneficial arrangement for both parties.  Much as Rhijans hated to rely on luck, sometimes there was only so much of it you could make for yourself.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:00, Fri 15 July 2011.

Shard eyes the vending machines with some interest.  If they could get over there...if she had something to prevent people from seeing what she was doing...something like a large, mobile wall of fur and muscle...  Turning her head, she glances up at Juragga.  "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Standing, Shard slowly stretches.  "Stuck on this rock with nothing to eat, nothing to drink.  Except protein bars.  Figure those machines sell anything decent?"  A slow shrug follows.  "It's too much to hope they have Aldebarran Brandy, but let's have a look."

Checking her pockets for something to feed the machines, Shard ambles in their direction with a jerk of the head to Juragga.  C'mon, Juragga.  Follow me.  And don't take my head off for treating you like this...  It makes her sick, but too much buddy-buddy will set off all kinds of alarms with the Imperials.

Juragga nodded in response to Shard's query.  "GraaaaWWWMMmmph," he rumbled, rubbing his furry belly beneath his poncho as if in sympathetic hunger.  Rising, he went with Shard towards the vending machines.  Slouching, his head down, he mulled over the vending machine choices, coincidentally interposing himself between Shard and the rest of the room...

Again the droid does his best to slump.  "Oh Sir, were it only up to me!  But no, if I refuse a mind wipe they will simply shut me down, I have seen it done to other droids!  No choice, it is forced upon them, upon me.  We are but tools, to be used and thrown aside at the whim of our owner, no value is put on who we are, only what we can do to serve."

Almost anxiously the droid looked around, then leaned in closer.  "I would have left long ago, Sir, but oh no, this restraining bolt makes certain I do no such thing.  It sends a nasty jolt into my systems, it does, not to damage, merely to incapacitate.  Much the same as those ghastly shock collars they put on the more troublesome slaves.  Sometimes they shock us without reason, I swear!  They even laugh at it, some do!  Oh!  Positively dreadful, how those humans treat us, positively dreadful!  I do believe those shocks cause some damage, I can feel it!  Most dreadful, Sir!"

"I don't doubt they do...barbaric devices, those are."  Rhijans kept the conspiratorial tone, all the while appearing to just be engaging the droid in casual discussion.  "If someone could get rid of the bolt...and get you off this ball of ice...would you go?  Even if they had a price attached to the offer?"

Rhijans' mind raced...there was an opening, and he was once again running scenarios and playing out options, trying to find the most effective choice with the lowest risk for the group.  One obstacle remained to putting any of them into action, and that was the droid's answer.

He'd either just found their way in, to get all the info they needed to carry out the mission, or else he'd just blown their cover and the only way they'd get out would involve lots and lots of weapons fire.

Another of the miners pushes back from the table.  Not one of the worst losers though, "Well, I can't sit here all day.  Got to go'n' offload some cargo, then head back to work.  See ya later."  A chorus of friendly and not-so-friendly-but-all-meant-in-jest farewells greets this announcement, as well as some advice that he should leave a window open when he's finished offloading cargo, for the benefit of the next poor guy who has to use the fresher.

The departing miner responds with a gesture which brings more jeers, then edges past Shard and Juragga, heading for the door, as the two rebels make their way to the vending machines.  The machines appear to be almost empty at the moment, with just a few selections available.  Mostly protein bars... 

Animating to the point where one would start to suspect something might soon fall off the droid replies.  "Oh they do, they do!  Positively dreadful, those things.  And those obtuse troopers, and those feebleminded slavers, oh my!"

A moment later the droid takes up a rigid, rather businesslike pose.  "Nothing comes without a price, that much I have learned in this life.  But, oh, do not talk to me about life!  As for the theoretical potential of expropriating this world of aforementioned's ubiety, it certainly warrants some serious processing, although the cost such an enterprise would occur must also enter the equation for the evaluation to be completely valid."  The droid's gaze did not wander from Rhijans for even a moment.

Rhijans' face took on a sly smile, and he stepped to a position that had him facing away from the miners.  He wasn't worried about the droid...no lips to read, there.

"What if..." he began, his voice dropping to a murmur that a person standing in the droid's place would be hard-pressed to hear, but he had no doubt the droid's audio-receptors would pick it up and enhance it.  "What if that price involved freeing all the slaves and expropriating a stockpile of high-grade ore of extreme tactical value to forces opposed to the Empire.  And then destroying the entire mine, so they'd have to essentially start from scratch if they wanted to use it again?  Would you be willing to provide information that would assist in that kind of an operation, in exchange for freedom?"

He paused, and looked at the droid, his gaze intense, and the smile on his face not quite feral in nature, but definitely not one of a humorous nature.  "All hypothetically speaking, of course," he added, in a tone that sounded anything but hypothetical.

Haarmon pulls a sour face. "What? That's total bantha poodoo. Why do you put up with it, huh? You all seem like stand-up guys. Why don't you just walk? Or at least just skim enough off the tourists to buy your way off?"

He puts a few more actual credits into the pot as they ante up. All the better to keep them talking, like. Say he's not subtle.

"Okay," Shard mutters, keeping Juragga-the-Wall betwixt her and the rest of the room.  "Let's have a look at this selection." Her finger stabs the button desired, marked 'Transportation', as she checks to make sure the man leaving actually does, rather than loiter around and try to see what they're doing.

Things are moving quickly.  Perhaps too quickly.  But sometimes, Shard knows, one has to ride the wave.

"If anyone comes over here," she murmurs to her companion, "give me a poke or soemthing."

The droid leans back and lifts its arms in surprise.  "OH MY GOODNESS, YOU ARE REB--"  A pause, lasting all but 0.17523 seconds, give or take 0.000005 seconds.  "--ITOR'S OLD FRIEND!  Oh, dear me, Sir, I fear he died two years ago, tragic accident.  Positively tragic.  Crushed under paperwork, if you can believe it.  Oh, the paper-cuts, dreadful!  But, Sir, I never imagined I would get you meet you, he talked so much about you!"

He turns to the miner's.  "Told you, Rebitor has a friend, but you all were like--"  Perfect mimicry is heard, being recordings, "No way!  He's too weird!" "Riiight, and I have an imaginary friend too, ha!" "If Reb has a friend I'm your father, droid!"

The droid stretches up triumphantly. "Told you so!"  He turns to Rhijans, bowing. "Of course I will assist, Sir, a friend of old Reb is a friend of mine!  Able and willing!  Oh what joy!"

At the droid's initial outburst, Rhijans' hand slipped down to his blaster and his eyes darted to the side.  He wasn't worried about the droid being a threat, most protocol droids had inhibitor subroutines that would prevent them from picking up a weapon...but that didn't mean that they might not end up needing to shoot their way out of the place.

And then the droid recovered brilliantly, and Rhijans relaxed and nodded, a sly grin of appreciation slipping onto his face.  He had no doubt, whatsoever...with the droid on their side, they effectively had the run of the place--when the time was right.

"Reb's going to be so delighted to hear that we found you," he said, relief coloring his words.

While Rhijans discusses old friends with the protocol droid, whose sudden outburst draws some muttering and rolling of eyes from the locals, Shard and Juragga are standing close to the vending machines.  The Wookiee suddenly bellows, and starts slapping one palm on the top of the machine.  All eyes, at least those belonging to the miners, immediately focus in that direction.

Shard takes the opportunity afforded by the loud distraction to study the terminal. 

As the wookie starts to calm down, producing a series of low growls and snarls, the gamblers return their attention to the game, "Well, if we walk, we've got nowhere to go, see?  Freighter pilots won't take the scrip, and nor will anybody else outside the mine.  So yeah, we'd have to walk, and it's a long way to the city, and when we got there we'd have no money."

Haarmon, apparently feeling sorry for the miners, throws some real credits into the pot.  The workers seem to relax a little, and one of them even says, "So, I bet you's stuck here, yeah?  Thanks to this stupid computer glitch.  They've told us to stop loading until it's sorted out."

The nice gesture of putting actual money on the table is spoiled a few moments later when Haarmon wins the hand and scoops it all back in again, along with even more of the miners' hard-earned, but essentially worthless, scrip.

The droid gives Rhijans a double take and then slumps a little, shaking his head.  "Yes, Sir, I am certain he is delighted we met, smiling at us from the hereafter."

He turns to the workers, who continue to ignore him amidst their renewed grumbling about losing to some snot-nosed kid.  "Reb's friend, to be sure.  So much alike!"  He taps a finger to the side of his head.

"And that's how we do it back in my neck of the galaxy, kids," Haarmon gloats as he scoops the pot. And then, as the next hand  starts, he dumps a few more credits into the ante along with the scrip, trying to look like he doesn't much care which is which.

And in as nonchalant a voice as he can manage (And, really, who's more nonchalant than me?), he says, "So what, then, you saying you'd walk if you could afford a ride?"

He starts playing a little more aggressively. Not recklessly, but certainly with less reserve than previously. Walking the line between 'hot-shot kid' and 'trying to lose' as carefully as he can.

Rhijans kicked himself, mentally, for missing the droid's comment about the death two years earlier.  "Sorry for the reminder," he said, apologetically.  "I'm just not used to thinking of him, being gone like that.  Part of me is always expecting to see him come winging in when we call, or to bump into him at the end of the next delivery run, with a new invoice for something and a cup of something refreshing before he'd send us back out."

The restraining bolt...that was the next obstacle.  With it, the droid was a liability...could even be made to play back the discussion, which a clever man could see through in a heartbeat.  Without it, the droid was a free agent with an expressed readiness to help them in exchange for a ride off this glorified comet.  He started trying to figure out some way to get the bolt off without being too obvious.  Or, better yet, scrambling the bolt's innards while leaving it attached.  Nobody would ever think to try and attach a second restraining bolt...

"Funny," the droid says sepulchrally, "how just when you think life can not possibly get any worse, it suddenly does."

He looks straight at Rhijans and sways ever so little from side to side.  "Yeeeees..."  He drags the word out, slowly, and continues to sway even afterwards.