Haarmon, who'd spent the last few seconds standing and fuming in indignation, finally managed to break his paralysis, just as the miners walked from the room. "Yeah you better go!" he called after them, his voice about medium volume. "You don't want none of this!"

Then he snorted. Turned to his team-mates. There was some shame in his face (of the 'saved by a girl' variety) but it was almost totally covered up by a smarmy grin.

"Guess we showed 'em, huh? Imps. Pfft." He looked at Shard, "That's some high quality hostility, there, Hot-Lips," he said, "And you're looking at a guy who knows it when sees it. Bit of a connoisseur, even."

Rhijans winced, closing his eyes and rubbing at them for a moment.  And just when I'm starting to think there's actually hope for him...he goes and does this.

He'd leave Shard to deal with her 'high-quality hostility'...and the unfortunate monicker of 'Hot Lips'.  He shook his head for the briefest of moments, then turned an eye to the protocol droid.

"What's your designation, anyway?  We can't very well go around referring to you as 'you'...and despite the kid's proclivity for nicknames, I'm not gonna start calling you 'Goldie'.  And 'droid' just seems insulting...I wouldn't expect anyone to run around calling me 'human'...what do they call you?  Or, perhaps better, what do you prefer to be called?"

It's not exactly how she wanted to deal with the issue, but...hostility shifted, situation defused, miners gone with the correct impression, rather than 'Rebel Saboteurs'.  Shard would love to claim the entire proceedings as her plan from the beginning, but to be honest it was more luck than anything.  Luck and the intervention of the droid.

And Juragga, who has her back.  Shard flashes the wookie a lopsided grin.

She shrugs off the miner's big talk; true or not, it isn't any serious concern.  Either he'll find a way to make something of this, or he won't.  She'll deal with it when it happens, but her concerns run more toward their mission.  Face it, Shard.  You screwed up.  It leaves her angry - more at herself than at anything the miners had to say.  Anything they said, she's heard worse.

...like Hot-lips, for example.

Rubbing her forehead, Shard eyes Haarmon from under her fingers.  He reminds her of a small, yappy dog: cute, but sometimes a headache.  If I snap at him, will he sulk?  Or whine?  "Haarmon," she mutters, "let 'em go.  Remember, we don't want trouble."  Keep him focused, Shard.  He's one of the keys to this, and he's been doing okay so far.  Walking past him, she puts a hand on his shoulder.  "Doing good.  Keep it that way and keep things low-key, and you might get us out of this alive." 

One doesn't start verbal duels with team members on the mission, and besides, how does one take the boy to task for a compliment?  Misplaced, but still...

Passing the youngster now, she smacks Juragga on the shoulder with a balled-up fist - the Wookie probably barely feels it.  "Thanks," the older woman murmurs.  "For covering me." It sure beat shooting one of the miners.

The droid points to the map as he speaks. "There are guards posted at the entrances of both the warehouse and the mine.  Also, patrols wander about the area, making quite the mess when they clomp and stomp their way around, the obtuse troopers.  Did I mention they are doubt look splendidly dimwitted underneath their helmets?   Splendidly, Sir!"  The droid taps a finger to his head.  "Oh, yes, there of course guards and patrols in the mines as well to keep an eye on the slaves."

The droid then does a remarkable impression of a double take.  "You are asking me what I want to be called, Sir?"  He flutters about excitedly.  "Oh my!  Never have anyone asked such a thing!  No one has ever cared!  It has been all manner of monickers, most of them quite unflattering!  Quite!"

The droid turns to face Rhijans and bows.  "I am UY-3PO, Human-Cyborg relations.  A pleasure to meet you, Sir.  I have positively no idea what I would like to be called.  May I think about it, Sir?"  He mumbles to himself, possible words like Lard and Muster, Roller of the University or similar phrases.

As the droid ponders its possible nickname, there is a sudden laugh from the other side of the room, harsh and mechanical sounding, reminding everybody that the Ubese is still sitting there.  The alien tilts its head to one side, though its expression is, of course, unreadable behind its breathmask, and says, "Yayt yikeeko yotah teh'kho."

Juragga does his best not to glower at the receding miners.  He nods once to Shard, and then favors her with a Wookiee grin when she punches his arm.

"GuuuHHRRRAAAwwwwwn," he caterwauled, the Wookiee equivalent to 'You're welcome'.  He liked Shard.  Aside from Haarmon, she was the member of the team he found himself bonding with.  And Haarmon... he owed the kid a life-debt, and would always honor it... but he was so painfully young.  Reminded Juragga of his own son, in a way.

Turning to the nattering droid, he said in his own language (which the droid would understand)...

"Welcome to your newfound freedom.  I hope you know what to do with it."

The Ubese...Rhijans had known there would be something to be dealt with from that quarter, at some point.  What it was, and how to deal with it, were the tricky questions at the moment.

"Okay," he said, in a low voice, to the droid.  "Who is he, and what is he here after?"  With some luck--and he grimaced as he thought it, because he despised relying on luck--the Ubese was as fed up with the Imperial operation as they were, and might even prove to be an ally...at least, for long enough to ransack the mine and get out of here alive.

There was, however, the chance that things could go the other direction, entirely.  And, with that thought, Rhijans found his hand itching for the feel of a blaster.

The Ubese hadn't sounded an alarm, however.  And judging by the confrontation that took place in the administrator's office when they arrived, he was hardly a big fan of the operation here.  So Rhijans was willing to hope for the best...for the moment, at least.

Haarmon was used to disapproval. Had, in fact, practically bathed in it for as long as could remember. First his parents and siblings. And then later from teachers, psychologists, tutors, employers. Disapproval was nothing new. But, as Haarmon felt the impact of his team-mates' (mostly) unspoken disapproval like a slap across the face, what was new was the shame.

Normally, he'd just snort, snark off that no one appreciates true genius and go on with his day. But this time he actually felt bad. Like he'd let them down. Like he'd betrayed their confidence in him. Rhijans. Shard. Even Rags.

And somewhere in the endlessly roiling whirl of Haarmon's thoughts came a new thought: maybe it's time to grow up.

"Sorry," he muttered, and then again, "Sorry. I'm a total nerf-herder. I'll reign it in."

Shard grimaces, turning on a heel to retrace her path.  She pauses a moment, struggling to work her way through Juragga's statement, and fails utterly.  Mind's somewhere else.  With a grimace, she moves over to where Haarmon stands.  "Listen," she mutters, glancing around.  "You've been doing good, and I'm not blowing smoke on that.  Hot void, everyone's been doing so cursed good I'm starting to get nervous."

She jerks a thumb at the vanished miners.  "If anyone screwed up there, it was me."  The older woman shakes her head.  "Almost started a fight.  Just...keep it together, Dak.  We're not out of the asteroids yet..."

On that matter...her eyes rise over Haarmon's shoulder, focusing on the Ubese.  Shard breathes out slowly, relaxing a touch.  Focusing.  Order, chaos.  The storm and the void.  Find the balance between them.  It takes a moment's concentration and focus to settle her thoughts into the proper pattern, then the woman opens her mind, hoping to catch an echo from the Ubese trader.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:31, Wed 10 Aug 2011.

Turning to the Ubese the droid tilts its whole upper body, since its neck is incapable of such a feat.  "Yah ikya yotoh!  Nyaya yeth'kho yaasyc!" 

The Ubese replies, "Yato yatokho hotayach kho'kek.", its voice a distorted jumble of sounds which the droid seems to have no difficulty understanding. 

Next he looks at Juragga briefly before telling Shard, "He says you are welcome, Ma'am."  Thereafter he faces the wookie and tilted from one side to another.  "GrrowRRRroor hrruRRF!  AAAaaauurrh raurahHrrrg UrRr mmmmRRRRmm hrrHRR GrrRRRrm!"

After that the droid turns to Rhijans.  "A transport pilot, stranded here waiting for cargo.  Not happy about it either."  Then he adds, "Oh, and it understands Basic perfectly fine, as I always suspected.  I am quite certain it still looks quite feebleminded behind its helmet, however."  He stretches up defiantly, looking over at the Ubese.

Juragga frowned at Shard's words, and drifted a bit closer to his new friend.  But he grinned and let out a hoot of laughter at the droid's reply.

More quietly, he let out of string of grunts and rumbles directed at the droid in a conspiratoral tone.

Rhijans grinned, faintly.  "You want to be careful, judging beings by their looks.  Probably thought we all looked feeble-minded, when we walked in...possibly, you still do.  But I'll bet you didn't think we looked like someone that would try to get you off this iceball."

He looked over at the Ubese.  "Well, have they screwed up your business schedule enough that you might consider making life interesting for them, in exchange?" he asked.  At this point, the Ubese, like the droid, either had to be won over or dealt with, and without the miners in the room, there was absolutely no chance whatsoever that the thing wouldn't overhear their discussion.  If it was an ally, it gave them extra resources.  If neutral, then they'd all go their merry ways.

If, however slim the chance might be, it was pro-Imperial, it had to be neutralized or eliminated.  So he waited for the answer, because a lot of what would happen next all hinged on what the Ubese said.

Mark decided to move and stand next to the door. It gave him an opportunity to view outside for any signs of people, especially stormtroopers that might be makign their way to the room.

The droid looks over at the Ubese.  "Yah hay kehohoy."  He shrugs and turns to bow slightly to Juragga.  "RRRroor hrruRRF.  Aarrrurrh HHRRrufrg."

The droid then shakes his head at Rhijans, stretching up poignantly.  "Sir, I never did judge anyone by their looks.  It is the fact that they hide they looks that leads to such a conjecture.  Especially humans who have no reason to wear breathing masks.  But even those who need such devices could be make them less... feeble-minded-inspiring."

He proceeds to mumble something under his still non-existent breath, potentially something about some people not wearing masks.

Stepping back from his position near the door, Mark Jacobs suddenly calls out, "Looks like the miners got annoyed at somebody.  We've got company coming.  Troopers."

Rhijans didn't bother hiding the annoyed look on his face.  "Everyone play it cool until it becomes apparent that they aren't having any...if we can do this without extra bother and trouble, then let's do it.  In the off-chance that the balloon's going up at this point, though, be ready to have it out as quick and quiet as possible.  If we have to take 'em down, let's try and get it done before anyone gets a chance to call for help."

He checked his blaster quickly, making sure the safety was off and the power-pack was secure, and that it was loose enough in the holster to draw quickly, if need be.  This wasn't his typical operating style, he realized...he didn't often try and talk himself through trouble.  His typical methods would have involved lots of people shot, already, and stuff blowing up behind him as he went, but that would also involve a massive response from the troopers, and it was a lot easier for one man to slip under the radar on something like that than it was for a whole group.

Especially when that group still didn't know each other very well.  He looked over at Dak, hoping the warning he was about to give was unnecessary.  But he was going to give it, anyway.  "Keep it frosty, kid...they're just coming in to ask a few questions.  Let's not give them any reason to think they need to do more than that."  The rest of the team, he was pretty sure of...he hadn't seen the Wookiee in action, but they had a reputation that he was willing to gamble on.  Shard and Jacobs would take care of themselves...Shard wasn't a great shot, but she held her own on the last trip out.

The 3PO unit and the Ubese...they were total wildcards in the situation.  The droid might be able to say something that would have the whole situation defused in a matter of seconds...and the Ubese could be a potential chemical accelerant on an open flame.  He shook his head, to himself, trying to keep casual.  They just had to adjust and adapt...

Despite the slight headache she has coming on, Shard can't help but smile and roll her eyes at the back and forth between the Wookiee and the droid.  It's too quick, too colloquial for her to catch it, sadly.  She rubs her forehead, grimacing, and throws a more friendly nod toward the Ubese.  Rhijans seems about to give a shot at bringing the man into their confidence - to some extent or another - but Jacobs' disturbing news puts a halt to that.  Immediately.

Shard curses under her breath.  My fault.  Should have just let it go.

"One thing," she mutters, keeping her voice low.  "If they're here for me, just me, let it go."  It's not likely, but possible.  Her eyes sweep the group.  "I'm not kidding," she assures them.  "If they just want to grab me, that's fine - they're not pirates.  I've got experience with this kind of situation -" in a way "- and it'll get me where I can get a look at the slaves, in any case." 

Flexing her fingers, Shard grimaces again.  The cold is in her joints, now, and she might need them limber.  Hopefully the troopers are just coming to inform them of something or, better yet, for something hot to drink.  But it doesn't seem likely.  Rhijans is doing a fantastic job keeping everything together; the best thing she can do here is back his play and, if necessary, take a hit for the team.

Not a lethal one, mind.  It wouldn't be the first time she's had a slave collar around her neck, nor the first time she has escaped from one.

"RRUuuuuHHHRMMPH!" Juragga protests at Shard's comment, the Wookiee equivalent of 'Like hell!'.  The thought of the white armored stormtroopers dragging Shard away in shackles while he stood there like a furry lump was unfathomable to the Wookiee.

He'd keep cool and not start bashing heads the moment they showed up, but he didn't like the idea of letting them take the beleagered woman.

UY-3PO moves away from the rebels, though it's impossible to tell just who he thinks this action will protect.  Mark Jacobs steps back from the door and quickly sits at the nearest table, trying to look casual and bored.

Moments later the door opens and a six Imperial snowtroopers enter the room.  The door doesn't close behind them, and two more troopers can be seen taking up guard positions outside.

The ones inside the room fan out a little, and appear to be studying the rooms other occupants.  Finally one of them speaks, "Which of you has been tampering with the droid?"

"Sir, I assure you I have not been... "

"According to our information, you have." the trooper interrupts.

The miners... Rhijans thought, irritated.  That was their information.  "My fault," he said.  "Some of the responses the droid was making had me thinking he had some kind of system glitch, and I figured it could only speed things up around here if we got it straightened out.  Since it didn't look like anyone else around here knew what to do about it, I did what I could."  He snorted, and added, "If it was a problem, maybe those slack-jawed mouth-breathing miners that were hanging out in here should have done something about it, instead of focusing on trying to fleece the kid in a sabacc game."

He figured he was the safest one to take the fall for it...to the best of his knowledge, his IPKC license was still valid, which meant the stormtroopers would probably give him a hard time, but not do anything too extreme.  Besides, it WAS his idea, in the first place.  "Is there a problem with that?  I'm trying to salvage a shipping schedule, here..."

Oh, hot void.

This has gone a little beyond getting in a dust-up with miners, straight into 'sabotage'.  The Imperials wouldn't be interested in an explanation - Stormtroopers don't make decisions or judgements, they carried out orders.  If their orders are 'Get the person who was messing with the Droid', they'd do just that, rationalizations be hanged.

And if they sent eight Stormtroopers, it meant they suspected something serious and wanted to quell any possiblity of resistance.

Eight troopers.

Shard breathes in slowly, her fingers clamped tight around her flask.  She relaxes them knuckle by knuckle, her arms drooping to hang within her cloak.  Focusing on the trooper, she struggles to find the center, the balance point between cold emptiness and burning emotion.  She has to know what the troopers orders are, preferably before the guns come into play.

If they suspect rebels...she has to know.

For his part, Juragga did his best to look meek and subdued... cowed.  Inwardly, though, he was watching the Impies with his peripheral vision and tracking their movements.

At the right time, he'd pounce.

The trooper watches Rhijans the whole time while the rebel gives his explanation.  At least his helmet gives the impression that his attention doesn't waver from the man.  The others do look about, scanning the room constantly.  All of them look towards Haarmon when Rhijans mentions him, then they go back to watching everybody else.

As Rhijans finishes speaking, the trooper nods his head slightly, "Show me your identification."

Suddenly a lot more of the accompanying troopers seem to be watching Rhijans...

Rhijans gives a shrug, and produces his IPKC ident.  "We're in the middle of something here, I hope this isn't going to take too long," he says, with the same mildly exasperated tone of voice that he was using in explaining about the droid.  With a little luck...Dammit...there's that 'luck' thing, again, he told himself...he might be able to play off the rest of the group as being either a support team, or an operation he's infiltrated to get to a target.

Haarmon winced inside. Rhijans might be an invincible rebel tech-ninja, but he clearly didn't know jack-squat about wheedling his way out of tight spots. Like all life-long wheedlers, Haarmon knew that rule #1 was never admit anything to anyone. Ever.

Still, this was the real thing right here. This was no planetary constable or some give-a-poodoo bureaucrat. These were the dudes in white. And that made this a heavier situation than Haarmon had ever found himself in. his mouth was dry. His heart was jack-hammering in his chest. His hands were clenched so hard his knuckles were sore but he couldn't seem to unclench them.

But all the same, he was going to do this. No way was he going to let Rhijans take it all alone. He stepped forward, in front of the rebel, face all lit up from end to end with the biggest, brightest smile he could manage. Hands up, palms out, all shamefaced and humble-like.

"Alright, hey, hey. Lookit here fellas. Listen. What the man here's trying to tell you is that it was me messed with the droid to cut those miners out of their little scam. They tweaked the thing to give them signals in the Sabacc game, yeah? Like it wasn't bad enough they're dirt sucking clodhoppers, they gotta be cheats too? And bad ones, am I right? To look at them you'd think they wouldn't even know which way to hold the cards. But you sit down and all of a sudden it's a Rankor feeding frenzy, you dig that?"

He paused. Just long enough to pull the scrip he won out of his pocket in a big wadded up ball and show them, but not long enough for them to say anything.

"So I play along, they fleece me some, I get a little hot under the collar, you would too, am I right? I see Shiny Pants here signalling them. I storm out. Say a few bad words. And way I see it I'm owed some satisfaction. I considered getting the walking shag-rug over there to rattle them some but 'tween you and me he's got the brain of a retarded Gamorrian and the backbone of a drunk Jawa, you dig? Useless for anything but carrying stuff and smelling bad. And so as they're on their way out I fix their little gold wagon so that they'd lose next time they try it. Give it a shot. Show it a Sabacc card, see what it says. So. Yeah. I messed the thing up. But I only unmessed the mess those other guys made in the first place. So no harm done, am I right?"

He paused again. Took a breath.

"You want I should put it back like it was? Take me two seconds."

Shard touches Juragga's hip.  A gentle pressure, nothing more, but not a tap.  Something pushing down, playing at holding him in place.  Wait.  Relief spikes through her; the commander doesn't think they're rebels.  Yet.  He has other ideas in his mind about what sparked this, and Haarmon, possibly unknowingly, is headed in just the right direction to allay his suspicions and perhaps - just perhaps - get them out of this mess.

"We're bored," she mutters, glancing down at the ground as if afraid to meet the gazes of the stormtroopers.  "Bored and losing money.  But he didn't mean harm; we know there's some real mess happening and we're not looking for trouble, sir.  But those miners, they..."  She shrugs, glancing around uncomfortably.

She takes the moment to focus.  To put a little extra into her words, to give them something to take back to their boss.

"We'll sit here quietly, sir.  Just wait for admin to get around to us, and we won't say a word to any more miners who come in here.  Even if they badmouth us.  Again," she finishes, in a quite-audible mutter.