"Not picking up any chatter about this mess.  Just some random reports from other areas." Mark assures Rhijans, "But that doesn't mean there wasn't anything before I got dressed up.  It might also mean that this bunch are expected to report in some time soon as well."

He keeps the helmet on, just for now.  For one thing, it lets him listen in.  For another, it hides the way he's looking at Shard.

There's no jedi. They've been wiped out.  No one knows what a lightsaber even sounds like these days.

Haarmon is in his element.  This is what he does, and he is damned good at it.

He reaches into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a small, rectangular box which unfolds to become a slightly larger three section computer pad.  He lays it next to the terminal, which lights up without even being touched.  A couple of deft touches on the terminal keypad calls up a menu and Haarmon murmurs, "That's the one." as he switches to using his own keypad.

His fingers seem to blur, as does the display on the terminal.  Red warning messages appear and vanish too quickly to read, and finally a screen displaying the Imperial seal and a request for a pass code is displayed.

"This will just take a second.  Watch and learn."

In fact, he doesn't seem to do anything, but the screen clears almost immediately, showing a new menu.  Haarmon favours Shard with a wink, then starts selecting items from the menu.  "Okay.  This isn't all good, but it's not all bad either.  As far as I can tell the troopers don't know anything about what happened here, but they do know that this squad was on their way up here.  They called in just before we met them to say that they were coming here to investigate a report of somebody trying to steal a droid."

"Oh, and there is an alert out concerning an armed Ubese who has threatened mine staff."

Rhijans glanced over at Jacobs.  "What're the odds you can sound official enough to report the droid issue as a false alarm and that you're searching elsewhere for the Ubese?" he asked.  The reaction of the troopers when they realized the Ubese was in the room was a good indicator that the threat of an armed individual confronting mine personnel was a much higher priority than a potential droid theft...they could use that, maybe get the Imperials scattered and open up a route to carry out their real mission.  Maybe.  If Jacobs knew enough Imperial protocol to sound convincing, and nobody actually saw the Ubese somewhere other than where he'd been reported.

It was a long shot...but for all his skepticism about luck, long shots had an odd way of coming through for Rhijans.

The droid looks from Juragga to Shard.  "He wonders how you survived the purge, Madam Jedi.  He also thanked you and says that he will protect you.  I say you need little of that, being a Jedi and all.  My pleasure to meet you, Madam Jedi."

The Ubese speaks again, as UY-3PO listens to it, "Yatoyach yokho hokaykach khotocho hoteeka chayokh Oomba kot Hutt ghutokho dattacho hota ey yotoh."

"All he wants is his load of dergha crystals so he can give them to... oh, my goodness... to Oomba the Hutt, or he will do something to him that makes being blown up by a thermal detonator look like a good career move.  In other words, he will not get involved one way or the other.  I suppose at the moment, apart from this troop, no one actually know what happened yet.  Perhaps he thinks you will take the blame, even, no doubt taking their mind off him for the time being.  Would not surprise me at all."

The droid looks a few times between Rhijans and Mark before scuttling over to where the commander's helmet is, kicking at it.  "Do use this one.  It is the commanders, after all, and transmissions from it will be flagged with his identification.  You do need to scoop out that particularly feebleminded looking thing from it first, though.  And if I may offer an idea, in a no doubt vain attempt to salvage the situation, make our friend here talk." he points at the now helmet-less survivor with all the accusation a metallic finger can muster, "They all sound alike, just as they no doubt all look equally feebleminded, then I can synthesis the voice and perhaps fool the others, for a while.  The maker knows what I will say, though.  Stuck in the elevator?  Oh, we are all doomed!  They will send us to the deepest mine where we shall suffer without end until the end comes, if not longer!"

Rhijans nodded.  So, neutral, then...and not likely to give a bantha's whisker about helping evacuate slaves.  Still, the fact that the Ubese had already made threats against the facility personnel could be useful, if they could pull this off without too much evidence being left behind.

He looked over at Haarmon.  "Hey, kid...how hard will it be to gum up the security system here?  Take surveillance off-line and make sure there's nothing salvageable after our departure from the administrator's office?"  He didn't really care if they were seen getting here...they'd come in under plausible circumstances, the fact that the administrator had pretty much dismissed them out of hand underscored that.  But it would be good if they just up and disappeared after that.

He turned back to the droid.  "Do you just need to hear his voice?  Or are you suggesting we try to make him pass on the misinformation?  Because I don't trust him to not say something that would give us away."  He nodded at Jacobs, and added, "My cohort here is not without some military background.  If there's enough of it, in the right places, he should be able to pull off the misdirection easily enough.  After all, what kind of idiot starts broadcasting on a secured Imperial channel?"  He grinned, mirthlessly.

That got him thinking.  He looked at the downed troopers.  Jacobs was about the right size to pass as one.  So was he.  And if they were going to plant the charges, they needed some way to get around the mine without attracting too much attention.

Part of his mind refused to even acknowledge that the droid had even uttered the word 'Jedi'.  They didn't exist...just a myth that the rest of the galaxy chose to follow.  Never mind the fact that Shard had just whipped out the lightsabers that he'd always been taught were just a figment of imagination and cut her way quite effectively through the stormtroopers.  There was no time to worry about that right now.

"I just need to hear his voice, Sir.  After that I will doubtless be able to imitate his tone and timbre quite well enough to fool his imbecilic comrades." the droid explains to Rhijans.  "If I try to use only monosyllabic words, the mimicry should be sufficient to fool them."

Arrrrgh.  Of course the Droid stepped in.  Shard somehow manages to hold in a wince at his choice of words.  That one is going to be a problem...

But Juragga's support almost undoes her.  For the first time in ten years, Shard finds herself close to tears.  Reaching up, she clumsily pats the huge, furry paw on her shoulder, unsurprised at its light, gentle touch, for she has dealt with Wookies before.  "Thanks," she replies in a hoarse whisper, her lips tight as she nods.

There doesn't seem to be more she should - or can - say.

Blinking beneath the hanging shield of her bangs, the woman slowly appraises the room.  Like a pro, Jacobs reports in regarding the comm traffic from beneath the helmet, and she can't tell what he's thinking.  Haarmon is focused - completely - on his own work, his fingers dancing like a concert pianist's. "He's...really something," she mutters to Juragga.  "Just don't tell him I said that; it'll go to his head."  Rhijans is - somehow - managing to get useful information out of the Droid and the Ubese.  The ship captain seems surprisingly sensible about the whole affair, but the bigger surprise comes in the bloated shape of his employer.  Shard sniffs once, and grimaces; just what they needed, a Hutt getting involved.

These ones, Shard figures, these people with whom she finds herself, they know what they're doing.  Juragga included, the big warrior picking the perfect time to wade into the troopers.  They're going places, they're helping people.

So she has to help them.

"How much you want to bet if I ask the Droid to put a cap on the Madame... -" she stumbles over the word, gives up "- he fires back the same thing with an apology and an 'of course'?"  A shrug follows, and a weak smile up at Juragga.  Weak, but real.

The older woman raises her voice.  "UY-Threepio - a pleasure indeed.  Please call me Shard." And not...  Turning, she gives Juragga a small tug and drops to a crouch in front of the surrendered trooper.  "Say 'I'm not telling you anything'," she whispers.  "Say it clear for the translator.  Then, if any of this gets back to you after, they can run the transmission through a 'voder and find out it was artificial, and you have deniability.  Worst case, you get a demotion.  The alternative?"

She rolls her eyes up meaningfully, toward the looming Juragga.

The trooper just looks at Shard briefly, before replying, curtly, "TS-4325, sergeant." then clamping his mouth shut again, after which he simply glares at the woman.  But only for a couple of seconds, right up until the droid says, "I do believe that is enough. Does this sound correct?"

That gets the sergeant's attention...

The massive Wookiee nodded to Shard as she expressed her appreciation of the kid.  Growling something along the lines of 'I know' and 'you're right, his head wouldn't fit in the room', he moved his hand from her shoulder with one final, light squeeze.

He'd come along on this mission to help, but mainly to stick by Haarmon and hopefully find clues as to his family.  And maybe even free some Wookiees.  Now he was finding his circle of concern expanding.  First, to Shard... and then to the others.

It had been a while since his concerns had been more than just himself, Haarmon, and revenge.

Juragga glowered down at the trooper convincingly.  He let out a "Uuuummmf" of satisfaction when the man spoke.  Nodding to UY-3PO, the Wookiee favored Shard with a Wookiee grin, the equivalent to a light smirk, and then stepped back and kept watch on the fallen troops.

Mark removes the helmet and says, "A call just came through asking for a progress report."

He looks at Rhijans, then at the droid, "If we're going to do this, it has to be now.  He should tell them that it was a false alarm and everything is all clear in here.  Or something.  Then we should get out of here."  Then he pulls his blaster and points it at the back of the trooper's head, "And we need to tie up some loose ends."

Shard giggles - Yes, that was a giggle, she thinks to herself, appalled - at the Wookie's assessment of Haarmon's hat size.  The laugh holds a slight edge to it, a few shades closer to hysteria than she'd like to admit.  But
her returning grin is no longer shaky, and her fingers have stopped trembling.  Juragga, she reflects, is one heck of a column to help prop her up.

He beats drinking all to void, she muses.

The pleasure fades when Jacobs draws his pistol, and Shard steps up.  "I don't kill prisoners," she flatly states.  Without any sudden movements, she delicately slides her hand along the back of the Trooper's head, interposing it between the blaster barrel and the man's skull.  With that tenuous barrier in place, she follows her hand, releasing the man's head as she steps around to put her own body in the line of fire, blocking Jacobs' aim completely.  "I also don't stand there and watch them die."

Her hands remain in sight.  Empty.

She doesn't bother mentioning that she'd already accepted the man's surrender, that she had assured him he'd live.  That's just fluff, explanation, and this stance has nothing to do with keeping her word; Shard simply doesn't kill prisoners.

"Some of these carry cuffs as part of standard equipment; we can lock them up, hide them away, whatever."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:05, Tue 20 Sept 2011.

Rhijans shakes out the... contents... of the commander's helmet into a trash bin, then gives the droid instructions to do what Mark Jacobs said.  The droid replies, "Yes, Sir.  I do hope that simply donning the helmet is not enough to make me as feebleminded as the original owner."

Then he falls silent, at least to everybody outside the helmet, as the grey human slides it over his head.

Haarmon Dak continues monitoring the terminal...

Rhijans quirked an eye at Shard's minor stand-off with Jacobs.  Shooting the stormtrooper would be the practical move...no witnesses to identify who was involved in the events.  That was why he'd hoped Dak could mess up the surveillance memory modules in the computer system...covering their tracks.

But, an argument within the team would be an even bigger problem than a witness or two.  If it took leaving someone behind to ensure that they were able to work smoothly, he was good with that.

Besides, when they called in the Y-wings for the bombing strike on the mine, there was a good chance that someone who was bound and tucked in a back corner would die, anyway.  He turned from the droid.

"Do it her way...we don't have time to argue about it right now."  He looked at Jacobs, in particular, and continued, "How are you with the notion of playing stormtrooper for a while?  Give us our best chance to hide in plain sight..."

"The problem as I see it is that if we leave him alive he can describe us to his friends, and tell them about the droid being able to compromise their communications.  Both of which could present us with problems down the line." Mark shrugs, "But if that's the way you want to play it, I guess that's the way it will be."

Juragga rumbled uncomfortably.

He'd killed more than his share of Imperials in battle.  He didn't usually stop when they threw up their hands, unless they had the good sense to get out of his range.  They had no honor; they had enslaved thousands of his people; they had taken his children.

On the other hand, he'd never shot one in the back of the head whilst helpless before.

In any event, he would back Shard's play.  The Jedi would know the right path.  And these were, at least, her people... humans.

Like Haarmon.

The Wookiee raised a shaggy brow and wuffed an interrogative at his friend.

Relief floods through Shard as the concensus rolls in.  She's neither deaf nor blind - Rhijans' cocked eyebrow and emphasis on 'her' and 'we' don't escape her.  But for the moment, this issue is tabled and there won't be any murdering going on.  "Lucky you," she mutters to the prisoner as Jacobs gives his assent.  The older woman shifts behind the trooper, searching for cuffs to secure him.

I should have figured that from Jacobs, she considers, given his reaction to the padawan.  Rhijans, though...then again, the man was a bounty hunter.  Not that it made him a raging psychopath, but going after men and women for money must de-'peoplize' his targets to some extent.  We're just trying to do the best we can, she reminds herself.

No saints here, except maybe Juragga.

"Find another way." Haarmon says from where he works at the terminal, "Somewhere to lock them all up, strip them of all their gear, and with any luck they won't be found until we're off this ball of snow."

"By that time they can say what they like about us.  I mean, it makes sense, we've got some bodies to hide anyway, so live or dead we might as well hide them all."

He nods at Juragga, in total agreement with the Wookiee.

Juragga nodded back, then had a sudden flicker in his teal eyes.

"GrrrAAAhhhnnnh.  UhhhhRRRRaaaauwwwwlll," he yodeled.

A sufficient electrical charge to the noggin would wipe out recent events from memory, without killing... if done properly, he told Haarmon.

Mark Jacobs shakes his head, "There's just two small flaws with your plan to lock them all in a store room or something.  First: it involves us walking through this complex with stormtroopers at gunpoint and hoping that nobody notices.  Second: it involves us walking through this complex with stormtroopers at gunpoint and hoping that nobody notices."

He smiles grimly, "Yes, I know that technically that's only one flaw, but it's such a major one I thought it was worth mentioning twice."

The discussion about what to do with the troopers, both living and dead, continues.  Haarmon meanwhile works on the terminal, trying to find as much information as he can.  He even manages to locate a storage bay not far from the break room, just a ride down on the elevators and about a fifty metre walk...

UY-3PO starts waving his arms about, and his voice, though audible is muffled by the helmet.  "Mmfff mff mmmfff mfffmff mfff... "

Vekkis Lund, who has been very quiet right through the current crisis, goes over to help the droid.  "You know, we could just stun him, then wreck all their comms and steal their weapons." he says, as he lifts the helmet off the protocol unit.

"... and now they say that we are to go and search the warehouses for the Ubese!" UY-3PO says loudly as the helmet comes off.  Frankly, he sounds quite pleased with himself.

Rhijans shrugged at Lund's suggestion.  Stunning them wasn't a bad idea, he fully intended to truss them up before leaving them behind, and removing any comm gear they had seemed elementary to him.  "So, sergeant, do they have any Wookiee slaves here?" he asked the trooper that was under guard.  He only half-expected an answer, and only because the question had no significant tactical value.  If they did, however, he had some ideas how to get their captives to the storage room.

He looked back at the 3PO unit.  "Could you please repeat the first of that, again?  With the helmet on, it made no sense whatsoever."  And a disturbing thought occurred to him at that moment, as he added, "And please tell me you shut off transmission before you commented on their directives..."

"Stunning works for me," Shard mutters.  "'Course, we'd still have to leave them here.  Probably close the door and 'seal' it."  With blaster-fire to the electronics, or something.  "They'd get maintenance to try to open it up, but right now we're on a pretty tight clock, I figure." 

Time is running out.  This little problem has pushed them along, and they have to move quickly.

She turns and raises an eyebrow at the injured Ubese.  "You're in trouble.  Can you make it back to your ship all right?  I don't think you'll be getting your shipment."

"I said; 'Those obtuse stormtroopers fell for the ruse, and now they say that we are to go and search the warehouses for the Ubese!'" the droid explains to Rhijans, sounding distinctly exasparated, "Do try to pay attention.  Sir."

Then the Ubese answers Shard's question, a long stream of seeming gibberish, which brings an "Oh dear!" from the protocol droid.

"He says that he is not badly hurt, and can return to his ship easily.  But if he does so without his cargo, then he is... something which I would really rather not translate, except to say that it would approximate to 'dead, several times over.'  Hutt syndicates are not known for being forgiving."

Vekkis Lund ahakes his head, "Stupid to get involved with the Hutt.  Real bad move." he mutters.

Juragga growls an irritated growl in the direction of UY-3PO, but it's intended for the Urbese, not the droid.

"GRRRRRRRRROooooOWWWRRR!" he snarls:  You'll be just as dead if the Imperials get their hands on you.

Rhijans glanced over at the Ubese.  Too many unresolved variables here, he thought, keeping his annoyance off his face.  "How big is this shipment you were supposed to pick up?  Maybe we can help you get it if you can help us with our project here..."  If the shipment didn't take too much space, maybe some or most of the slaves could ship out with the Ubese...if they could trust him to not sell them to someone else again.  He didn't want anything more than that to do with a Hutt...the Syndicate's reputation left him with no doubts about that.

He turned back to the droid.  "The warehouses, huh?  Sounds like a good excuse to find out where everything we're looking for might be located...at least for a couple of us.  We can sneak a pair of us in there, the rest can take advantage of any chaos that Dak can stir up and sneak in to bust out our other target..."  Their only hope, he was realizing, was likely to be getting the Imperials going in so many different directions at the same time that they were tripping over each other...but they needed to move quickly, if it was going to happen.

He dragged the trooper that he'd skewered through the brainstem into the room and started peeling the armor off, no apparent regard being given to the sergeant in front of whom this was all happening.