As it happens, the "Heroes of Alrirkr" get very little time to sit back and bask in their own glory.  Only two days after returning from that mission, they find themselves summoned to another briefing.

Not all of them will be present, though.  Vekkis Lund is still considered unfit for duty, even though he is out of the infirmary.

Reldan Jalt, Captain of the Dancing Bantha, will apparently be providing transport for the time being.  He sits in the briefing room, lounging back in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, hands behind his head, and eyes closed.

R2-O0, Reldan's astromech droid, is at the back of the room, standing alongside UY-3PO.  The protocol droid gleams in the light from the ceiling panels, having been cleaned up and given a series of maintenance checks.  The two droids are talking about something in Binary, the complex series of whistles, bleeps, chirps and other noises sounding almost like birds singing to each other.

Shard meanders into the briefing room, her head pounding.  She's spent the last day and a half sequestered with quicklearning texts on emergency medical aid, all culminating with a frustrated night of Zidran brandy.  Not a wise idea, and she's relatively sure it has undone most of the exercise she did during her breaks.  Stupid.  Let down the team.  Not a good idea.

How much of the First Aid has sunk in is also open to debate.

"You-why," she mutters, passing the droids.  "Oh-Zero."  A nod to the ship captain follows.  "Jalt."  At least she knows the Dancing Bantha.  The older woman slowly lowers herself into a chair.  Waking this morning had been difficult, to say the least, but she managed and cleaned herself up nicely.  The only remnant of her bender now is a throbbing pain behind her right eye that even pills can't disperse.

Stupid, stupid woman, she curses herself.

She'll shape up this mission, Shard promises herself.  One night of drinking didn't put her back to where she was before.  But how many times, part of her mind whispers, has she thought the same?

Rhijans...stalked...into the briefing room.  He, for one, was thankful for the lack of downtime--he didn't know what to do with himself when they were 'on standby'.  The number of people around on the Rebel base made him irritable...if he'd been inclined to drink, the offers for bought drinks at the commissary would have been flattering, but as it was, they were more of an annoyance--though not as bad as the people who kept asking for details about the 'raid' and how so much damage had been done before the Headhunters even came in for their attack run.

Stupid kids, he told himself.  They didn't get it.  The mission might have been a success on paper, but they lost a man...that was nothing to drink over.  Not in celebration, anyway.  He'd had a couple of quiet drinks in the corner in Jacobs' memory, when he'd finally been surly enough long enough that people had left him alone.

The irony of being glad to be back together with the team (even the annoyingly brash Dak), just a few weeks after starting to work with them and wondering if he'd ever be able to tolerate being around so many people, never dawned on him.  He just wasn't introspective on that kind of level.  These people had fought and suffered with him...they understood...they wouldn't pester him with stupid questions about it.

And right now, he felt like that was what he needed.

He gave a nod to Jalt, feeling a little pleasure in the fact that they'd at least shaken the 'no pilot is ever willing to work with them twice' aura that he had feared the team was developing.  He gave a half-hearted wave to the droids, but he was pretty sure whatever they were beeping about back there had their attention focused far too tightly to notice.  His gaze settled on Shard.

"Rough night, huh?" he asked.  Remarkably enough, something akin to sympathy crept into his voice.  He noted the way she seemed to wince at some of the sharper whistles from the droids, how one eye squinted a little tighter, especially when facing the brighter sections of the room.  He hadn't been there, himself, but he'd seen enough others dealing with the aftermath of a drinking binge to recognize the few subtle signs that she let show.  As long as she's got it all back together by the time we go in, what she does in her off-time is her affair, he told himself.  They all had their own ways of dealing with stress, and with the let-down of that stress disappearing after a mission was done, and he wasn't going to judge hers.  If it worked for her, that was all that mattered.

He took a seat next to her, without further discussion.

Juragga shuffled in, looking tired and disheveled.  He wasn't hung over... more like still a little drunk.  But he made slow and steady progress to his seat, the scent of yeast and hops on his breath.

Far from a party, he'd been able to put himself in a good mood for a few days by self-medicating.  But now the fun was over and it was time to get back to work.

He belched lightly, a good Wookiee ale-induced burp, and sat down in the back of the room, straightening his poncho with as much dignity as he could muster, considering the food stains on the front.

Haarmon entered the room at what can best be described as a half-saunter. There was some strut in his walk, there was no doubt about that. And some swagger in his step. And his face was still set in that leering smirk that seemed to communicate the vastness of his impatience with the universe.

But all the same, he looked tired. Wrung out. Used up. Like he hadn't slept much more than a few restless fitful hours in days. His skin was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He gave the room no more than a cursory sneer before plopping himself down next to Juragga.

He looked up at his friend and snorted. And it was a genuine Dak snort. "Hey Rags. You wearing the food now? This some kind of Wookie courtship ritual? Cuz thanks but no thanks, you know what I'm saying? I respect you and all, but..."

Rhijans snorted softly to himself.  The kid was having a hard time adjusting to the new realities of life, it seemed, judging by the signs of sleeplessness...but he was resilient.  In spite of himself, Rhijans had to admit a grudging fondness for the brash behavior.  He'd never say it out loud, because the last thing he wanted was to encourage more of it focused his direction...but he liked the kid, just the same.

He just hoped that he'd be able to continue saying that, I like this kid, present-tense.  Part of him...a much larger part than would have been involved before Jacobs' death...feared the likelihood of having to say, I liked that kid.

Rhijans' greeting snags her attention and Shard squints up at him suspiciously for a momment.  Nope; he's not fishing, nor is he mocking.  Relaxing, she settles a little further down in her seat, the sullen student of the class.  "Yeah."  The older woman clears her throat, hoping her next words will sound a little more smooth.  "Done now, though."

As always, the professional is easy on the eyes.  Clean, sharp of features and eye, and radiating an aura of relaxed preparation.  It's good having him around, Shard reflects.  She's a little jealous of his charcoal hair, sleek and flowing; her own hasn't been that splendid in a decade, and is threaded with silver strands to boot.  "Looking good, Rhijans," she mutters.  "Someone has to."

Juragga joins the crowd, looking about how she feels.  No, Shard decides with a critical eye, worse.  She can't blame the Wookie; hope for finding more of his kind had turned to ash in the raid, and everything certainly hadn't gone as planned to boot.  But best he keeps himself in the back and doesn't draw attention, as the Colonel could be a stickler about these things.  I'll cover for him, she decides.  Her own squadmates have done the same for her in the past.

Haarmon doesn't look much better, trundling in on Juragga's heels.  Maybe he hadn't sampled the drink, but sleepless nights looked like the style, hereabouts.  Frowning, Shard purses her lips.  They're spread out over the room, all in little groups of misery (except Rhijans, with his customary cloak of cold professionalism).  It's not right.

"You up for a walk?" she mutters to the man beside her, pushing herself up.  "Better we stick together.  Maybe make a tighter knot, or the Colonel's going to figure something's wrong and split the unit."

It's not...quite...true, but it might as well be.  Things could go poorly Really Quick Now on a mission, and if the group didn't move right it could be the end of all of them.  And that'd break us up just as quick as if the Colonel did, she considers, pushing herself up and over a row of seats to sit one row down from Haarmon and Juragga.

Even if Rhijans decides not to move, they'll all be linked in a line.

Craning her neck, she eyes the mismatched pair.  "You two..."  Shard shakes her head, and with a wave indicates herself included in the observation.  "We gotta come to these briefings a little more spiffy-like, or the Colonel's going to figure we don't want to be here."

Juragga eyed Haarmon and grunted in reply, then flashed a weak Wookiee fanged grin before turning his poncho around so the food stains were on the back instead of the front.  They showed less that way.

He nodded to Shard as she settled into the row ahead of him.  He figured they'd have had more than two days off and not be summoned on (what he considered to be) short notice.  But such was life in the Rebellion.  But the Jedi was right.  It wouldn't do to be tossed out for lack of enthusiasm.  He might never find his family that way.

He might never find them at all.

"Wasn't expecting the call so soon," he muttered in a low guttural. But then he stopped.  He didn't want to go on and sound like he was making excuses.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Wed 13 June 2012.

Rhijans followed Shard's lead.  He wasn't certain, precisely, of the reason for it, but until such time as the woman gave him reason not to trust her, he'd take cues from her.  It seemed like the right thing to do, at least...this 'team' thing was still an unaccustomed challenge to him, although he was definitely gaining an appreciation of it.  He have never pulled off that last mission solo, although it was extremely unlikely that they'd send a single individual in with those kinds of objectives in mind.

He steepled his fingers, thoughtfully, as she gave the others her mild admonition.  He didn't expect the Colonel would take too much exception to the team coming in and looking a little ragged around the edges--the kinds of missions they'd been given were things that couldn't be accomplished by conventional means, and allowances were often made for those who could accomplish the unconventional.

Still, it wouldn't hurt any for the team to come in looking ready to go--and as Shard was the one who brought it up, she obviously felt some need for it.  Given the track record thus far--"Here's your mission, you leave in an hour, good luck..."--it was certainly prudent to maintain a state of readiness.  Considering the fact that they were part of a rebellion, and their base could be attacked at any given time, it seemed only prudent to him to maintain a state of good operating order, personally...never knew when you'd have to make a run for it or have to fight your way out.  But he'd also long ago resigned himself to the knowledge that the standards he held for himself wouldn't be matched by many others, and he certainly didn't feel it was his place to start dictating them to anyone.

Now, the first time he felt that someone's personal habits made them unreliable in a time of need...that would be different.

All this flashed through his mind, thoughts arising, being weighed, and sorted out, in fractions of a second.  Behind his steepled fingers, he nodded, apparently at Shard's words, though more at his own conclusion to the thought process they started.  He could guess at what the Wookiee rumbled, and commented, "Appears we can't expect any definite duration of downtime.  It also appears we're becoming one of the Colonel's go-to teams for missions with dangerous objectives.  Like it or not, we're likely to be regarded as on-call for whatever comes up...the only way that'll stop is if we totally botch a mission, which means a lot of dead bodies and likely us among them.  I wouldn't count on getting a day or two advance notice before we get sent out...the kinds of missions we've been drawing don't operate that way."  He left it at that...they could all draw their own conclusions.  They all knew what demons persecuted them...how to deal with those demons was something only the individuals could decide.

Colonel Kourene enters the room, this time accompanied by only one of his aides.  As he stalks to the fromt of the room, it is clear to everybody that the Rebel commander is not in a good mood.

He reaches the front of the room, and without preamble launches into the briefing, "Right, everybody quiet down.  This will need to be quick, I have two more teams to speak to after you.  I know that most of you have just come back from a tough mission, and were probably hoping for some downtime, but we're a bit stretched at the moment."

An image appears above the holoprojector.  The world has no oceans, no vegetation, and few clouds.  More interstingly, perhaps, considering this group's most recent mission, there is no sign of even small ice caps.

"This is Osmur.  We've recently received intelligence reports from our agents on Dor-Tennia which suggest the the Imperials are up to something on Osmur.  For a baren world with only one settlement of any significance, there seems to have been a lot of shipping bound there in the last month or so."

"We need somebody to go there and see if they can find out what's happening, avoiding any trouble with Imperial forces if possible.  That job falls to you.  Captain Jalt will take you to Dor-Tennia where you will meet with one of our operatives, Kaer Paxlo.  Paxlo will provide you with a ship which you will use to travel to Osmur, and an Imperial security code which will let you bypass the Imperial ships currently in orbit and land."

"Any questions?"

Haarmon offered Shard a strained smile at her comment that spoke volumes about how little he wanted to be there. But all the same he guessed she was right. Maybe after the briefing he'd go down to medbay, see about getting some help getting to sleep. Well, more accurately, staying asleep. He dropped off whenever he stopped moving. No problems there.

But then the dreams started....

He shook his head a couple times, as if to clear it. Listened to the Colonal's talk. He raised his hand at the request for questions.

"So what you're saying is that our mission is to go down there and find out what our mission is? Do we know what's being shipped? Civilian transports? Military? Do we have eyes on the settlement? Been any changes there? New buildings? Businesses? Even Imperial super-commando-tech-ninjas like lap dances after they wrap up Ops for the day, am I right?"

His energy level is visibly higher after this little rant. Eyes a little brighter. Posture a little straighter. Nothing like throwing around a little hostility to perk a guy up.

Shard mutters assent to Juragga's excuse. "Hey, I'm not exactly spec myself," she mumbles back, studying Haarmon.  The lines of strain around his eyes speak volumes, and as she studies them a memory spikes in her mind.

"W...WHY?"  Shard spins in a circle, nearly cutting one of her arms off with the humming tool in her hand; her youthful body is agile and light, but bile fills her throat.  Her feet squelch in something unpleasant on the ground.  The stench of burned meat fills her nose.  And everywhere her eyes fall, there are bodies - bodies in white armor, bodies in gray uniforms, bodies cloven and carved like slaughterhouse victims.

"Void...cursed void, why?" she implores.  "They were techs!  You didn't...we didn't give them a chance!"

The tall, ascetic man tucks his own, silent tool into his sleeve and studies her with placid eyes. "We could not know if one would draw a weaopn mid-fight.  Techs or not, they were imperials, and they were armed." 

His preternatural, empty calmness sends shivers up her spine.

While the first casualty of war is the truth, the second is always innocence.

Her eyes flick to Rhijans.  "That's...remarkably cynical, Rhijans.  And probably bang-on.  The screw-ups get shuffled off to rear-echelon, the ones who get things done shoulder more."  She shrugs.  "Self-pitying, maybe, but -"

Enter the Colonel.  Shard zips it.

Their boss moves to the front of the room with long, distance-eating strides.  He's in a hurry, he's stressed, and Shard does a quick shift of her internal landscape.  Better keep the comments to her inside voice for now, and she's sure to have a lot of them.  This looks like it's going to be a void-damned mess.

And the Colonel doesn't disappoint.

With mounting dismay, Shard listens.  They're flying by the seat of their pants completely on this one.  Intell?  Using that word would be an insult.  Backup?  None to speak.  Potential leverage on the mission site?  One settlement of Imperials means no locals to provide assistance or information on a barren world.  A nightmare waiting hungrily to spring.

And Haarmon, understandably, starts to fall apart.

"Hey."  Twisting in her seat, Shard waves a finger to get his attention.  "Good questions, and I'm sure the Colonel has some answers." She hopes.  Twisting back, she raises her voice with the intent of focusing any ire on herself.  "Right, Colonel?  There has to be something there, and we have to have some knowledge?  From those agents?  Plans, maps, personnel lists.  Something?"

C'mon, Juragga.  Help him out.  The Wookie knows his friend best; maybe he can talk him down without triggering an explosion.

Haarmon, who thought he was being remarkably calm, given the circumstances, sees the concern in Shard's face and checks himself. Quick breath. Relax. Quick look at Juragga, see if maybe he had some time-honoured Wookie wisdom to add.

"I'm cool, Shard," he says, in a voice that says that's only half a lie. "I'm calm. If the Colonal doesn't have answers, then we'll go get some. That's how we do it, am I right?"

Juragga's first insane thought was to ask the Colonel if there was any beer on the planet.  He thought better of it.

Catching Haarmon's reaction, he smiled, but then saw Shard's concern.  He knew Haarmon was just winding himself up and expressing his voodoo that he do so well.  He wasn't worried, but he did give the kid a mild cuff on the shoulder and laughed to let him know it was all good.

"GrrrrrrrAAAAuuuuwwwrrr," he warbled aloud, asking the Colonel: So this is a 'recon in force', then?

Rhijans had a half-smile start forming when Dak went on his little tirade.  It finished forming when Shard called the kid on it, and with Dak's response.

"Can't say that anything I've done with the Alliance has suffered an overabundance of available intel.  Really, what we've been given isn't all that much less to go on than we did our first round out.  At least this time, we know we're going out to get Imperial intel...that's a more concrete target than meeting a droid who will take us to who we're supposed to pick up."

He shrugged, fatalistically.  They'd likely stand out, being non-Imperials on an Imperial world with a single settlement...the trick was to make people believe they were either legitimate independent spacers, or that they were connected to some kind of crime ring...the Hutts, or something similar.  Pirates and Rebels would get a decidedly unfriendly welcome.

"Do we have any information available on what kind of ship is being provided for us to make the final leg of the trip into the Osmur settlement?" he directed to the Colonel.  If they had to come up with some kind of cover story, it would be best to start now, so they could work it out before any demands to keep it all straight came up.

"Your mission is, as I said, one of reconnaissance.  Pure and simple.  For all we know, everybody in the settlement might know exactly what the Imperials are up to, but we haven't had a chance to find out as yet." Kourene pauses, gathering his thoughts, or possibly remembering the days when a commanding officer didn't have to9 justify orders to those under his command, "Every mission starts like this.  Somebody hears a rumour and passes it on to us.  Before we can send a team to deal with situation, we need to confirm that is a situation.  Sometimes we trawl for information on comm channels or the HoloNet, other times we send somebody to take a look.  In this case we've decided on the latter course, because Osmur isn't really a communications hub.  That job has fallen to you."

"All we really have is a rumour about a lot of traffic from Dor-Tennia to Osmur.  You might get to Osmur and find that they've simply had a natural disaster of some kind, and that the extra ships are bringing in emergency supplies and equipment." he shrugs, "Or it could be a new stormtrooper training garrison.  Or a secret weapons research facility.  We really won't know until we have eyes on the ground, and you are those eyes."

"What we do know is that the shipping, so far, has been a mix of military transports, which makes me disinclined to believe that it'll turn out to be a natural disaster.  No combat ships as far as we know.  There has always been some civilian traffic, so a freighter coming in wouldn't raise any alarms.  However, to be on the safe side, you will be using an Imperial Lambda class shuttle."

Rhijans gave a tight-lipped grin.  "We have Imperial uniforms that we can requisition from the quartermaster, right?  Or stormtrooper armor?  Because I'm pretty sure nobody's going to buy me as 'standard Imperial issue.'  Unless we go with the notion of a few 'sub-human' attendants of some sort..."  He didn't want to get too far into the subject...that was something they could iron out specifics on while en route.  But they needed to define what their cover story would be on arrival so they could get any appropriate supplies here, where they were available.

Juragga nodded at Rhijans' words and waved a shaggy paw.  "Gruuuuh!" he commented.  Nobody was going to mistake him for an Imperial.

Perhaps if there were wilderness areas near the encampment to scout; but the planet was basically a rock.  He was going to end up sitting on the ship or skulking the desert wastes.  He could imagine one of Haarmon's holocomix now: Wookiee By Night.

Now when it came time to dismember stormtroopers and blow stuff up, he's be fine...

"All right," Shard breathes.  Recon, find out what's going on.  Confirm something is up.  Then either bug out...

...or, depending on how dire the circumstances happen to be, try to deal with it.  But she's not going to mention that out loud.  "Sounds like a plan, Rhijans.  We're going to have to do the old 'part of you', again."  She grimaces.  "That's...going to be tricky.  We don't have the luxury of being part of a group shipping stuff in, and we can't put half the group in irons."  She glances around. "If they talk to me, they'll know something's wrong.  No female stormtroopers."

She frowns.  "Could be a tech, but again, the moment I open my mouth that'll kill any thought of me handling mechanical stuff."  Steepling her fingers, she considers further. "Imperial shuttles will get attention, and that's a problem.  There'll be questions as to why we're there, requests for our orders, etc.  Any way of inserting us under their sensor net?"

Haarmon was trying to stay out of the way. The last time he'd opened his mouth he managed to piss off Shard and the Colonal. But Shard was right. How were the four of them going to manage to walk around without looking like the rag-tag band they were?

And hey! Maybe that was it.

Haarmon raised his hand. "Colonal? Can we get some BII uniforms and badges and such? If Rhijans and Shard were, like, agents, right?" His voice went up a register and sped up as he started to get worked up about the idea. "And Rags'n'Me were, like, informers, or whatever? Looking for some subversives? Or whatever they call them? They we can poke our faces wherever we want, yeah? And look as confused as we need to, yeah? And anyone can talk Agent talk. Way easier than tech-talk, am I right?"

Truth be told, Haarmon wanted to be the agent. Was almost ready to explode at the thought of wearing the badass black suit and flashing the badge around and looking awesome. And, perhaps more importantly, looking awesome with Rhijans. But he resigned himself that Shard was probably the better choice.

He was still plenty excited, though.

Rhijans quietly cursed himself.  It was a point that needed to be discussed, sure, but they could work out details later.  "The important thing we need to know is, do we have anything along those lines available as a resource?  We'll work out the specifics of who's what and how we all fit together later.  But having some credentials would give us options to move around and gather intel...as well as keep us from being gunned down for being obviously non-Imperial when we disembark from an Imperial ship."  He shrugged.

"Unless someone other than the Empire is using the Lambda shuttle..."  To the best of his knowledge, it was a vessel designed by and built for the Imperial Navy...but his knowledge on the subject was hardly encyclopedic.

He tried to get things back on course.  "At any rate...we've got our approach and landing covered, we just need to figure out a way to get around unnoticed once we're on the ground.  We've apparently got quite a few ideas on that one, we can figure it out before we take off.  Are there any other relevant points that we need to know, Colonel?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 23:18, Wed 20 June 2012.

"The main purpose of the shuttle is to get you past whatever the Imperials have in orbit.  It also has the advantage of being better armed than anything else we have available just now." the Colonel explains.  "You'll be given a security code by Paxlo which will get you down to the ground.  As I mentioned, we don't have much in the way of intel about the situation on Osmur, so we don't know how pervasive their sensor net is, so getting in under it is something we can't guarantee."

"How you handle things once you're on the ground is up to you.  You'll need to play it by ear to a large extent."

"We can provide you with Imperial uniforms and we have some suits of stormtrooper armour.  I realise disguises aren't going to work for Juragga, but to be honest, a Wookiee is useful to have with you in case something goes wrong."  He thinks for a moment, "If you need to move around planetside, you might do well to borrow a vehicle.  You might be able to find something that will let Juragga travel with you, out of sight.  Otherwise you'll have to come up with a reason to have a Wookiee with you.  Haarmon's suggestion might work there."

"Just bear in mind that your primary objective is to get home with whatever information you can find.  Combat should definitely be a last resort on this one, if you can manage to avoid it."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:50, Mon 25 June 2012.

"I'm liking that plan," Shard mutters as Haarmon chimes in.  It's bold, somewhat crazy, and...it just might work, she mentally finishes.  "And Rhijans is correct.  We need enough to get in and land.  And move out.  After that, we can work around obstacles in whatever way seems to fit, and find our own route off-planet if necessary, assuming things go south."  They will, she knows.

They always do; but when one walks in with one's eyes open, it makes it easier to adapt.

"As for Juragga...yeah, Haarmon's right.  If we're 'intelligence', we can present him as a Wookie who has sold out."  She snorts.  "It's silly for us to consider, but to the Imperials, who suspect people of selling out everywhere...well, that kind of people assumes there will always be traitors.  He makes for good muscle, to boot." Another shrug. "The big lie.  Sometimes it fails, but if everything else looks good, people tend to buy it."

Sitting up straighter, she nods to the Colonel.  "Sir, we can get this done.  We just need a short time to discuss and pick up whatever equipment this calls for.  I assume we have...well, carte almost blanche for the purpose of requisitioning?  Not a cruiser, but most personal things?"

A humorless smile creases her lips.  "No heavy firepower this time.  Like you say, combat is a last resort, and if we need the heavy stuff on this mission, we're in it deep."

Rhijans gave a tight-lipped grin.  "If there's an Imperial presence there that's worthy of worrying about, any heavy firepower we need, we can probably acquire from them.  They won't know it, of course...but it can be done."  He shrugged and added, "I'm all for holding off on the shooting until no other options are available...gathering intel in a firefight is useless, unless you want intel about how well the enemy fights."

The Colonel confirms that the team can requisition uniforms, stormtrooper armour and various items of small equipment.  He also confirms that they can take some time to prepare for the mission.  "Captain Jalt's ship is prepped and ready to leave when you are.  He will fly you to Dor-Tennia where Kaer Paxlo will arrange access to the shuttle... "

Reldan Jalt interrupts, "Excuse me Colonel.  I take it you want me to fly the shuttle for them?"

"That would be up to the rest of the team.  If they need you to do it, then yes."

"I'll leave you to make your plans.  I've spoken to the quatermaster about providing you with anything you requisition."  A smile, the first one since he entered the room, "Short of a cruiser."

He starts towards the door, clearly in a hurry, "May the Force be with you."

Rhijans sat back slightly, a mild look of surprise on his face.  The Colonel's last words were, to those who listened for it, an astonishing vote of confidence--practically throwing open the Rebels' supply chain to the team.  It would be important to use the resource optimally...

Belatedly, he rose in acknowledgment of the Colonel's departure.  It was a formality that he hadn't observed before...but given what had just been offered to the team, it seemed to him to be reasonable to return the respect.  He'd likely never get to the point of saluting...but this much, he could do.

"Well, at least they aren't asking us to do the impossible with nothing at all," he commented, drily, after the Colonel left.  The undercurrent of appreciation in his voice could be heard, however...a chink in the emotionless armor he presented to the world around him.

He looked over at Jalt.  "Provided our last outing wasn't too traumatic for you, we'd appreciate you at the controls.  None of us has had the chance to become proficient at piloting, even if a couple of us may have a grasp of the basics, and if we go with a cover story of being some kind of Imperial operative visiting with an entourage, a better-than-basic landing will help promote the image."

Anything they want?  This obviously has the upper brass on a hot plate, Shard decides, so disturbed over the idea that she doesn't even grimace at the Colonel's parting words, instead giving them a polite nod and a small salute.  "Thank you, sir."

At least Rhijans sounds pleased.  It's a new thing, but not surprising; if the mission is important, getting given carte blanche would just make sense to a professional of his calibre.  She shoots him a quick look, one eyebrow quirked, then also turns her attention to the pilot.  "Yeah, I'm good with you flying, Jalt," she muses, then shakes her head and offers a crooked smile.  "Nice to have you aboard this one, though I figure you'll regret it halfway through."

Leaning back in her chair, she stares owlishly at the ceiling for a moment, then snaps back forward and completes the motion by standing.  Her back twinges as she does, but Shard needs to move; she's getting jittery sitting there, and sitting around in itself won't do her spine any good.

"I'm liking your ideas about going in as imperials.  As long as  we can make a convincing go of it, and don't shake the ship too much, they'll quite possibly buy it." A grimace twists her mouth. "And we don't come face to face with the Moff's headhunter, of course." 

Seeing Shard and Rhijans rise, Juragga does the same, though it takes a minute for it to sink through the fog into his noggin as to WHY.  They were being given the keys to the kingdom, or at least the requisition room.  A huge vote of confidence, and it sobered the Wookiee considerably.

He still wasn't sure how useful he'd be on this mission; but Juragga could admit to himself he wasn't a thinker, a planner, in any event.  He was a Wook of Action, and he'd stand (or sit) ready to leap to his comrades' aid if they needed him.

"Guuhhhhhrrr," he rumbled.  They'd want You-Why on this one too, he said.  He wasn't sure why, other than to avoid using the wonky translator disc; but his gut told him they'd need the uppity 'droid.

Then he glanced to Haarmon.  He figured the kid's shopping list would be larger.

Haarmon caught the look and shrugged. "All I need is a terminal, really, and I'll take the best one I can find. Someone needs some uniforms. What else is there?"

"If there's a spare suit of armour, I can use it." Reldan interjects, "An extra pair of eyes, not to mention another blaster, can't do any harm.  And I'm damn sure I can pilot one of those Lambdas at least as well as an Imperial pilot."

"I think this is going to work.  Especially if they've got some sort of base we need to look at.  With disguises we can land close to it and get a good look, then get out again without any trouble."

He nods, grinning, "Yep, blue milk run."

At the back of the room, UY-3PO turns as Juragga mentions his name, "Colonel Kourene has already asked me to assist with this mission.  That is why I am present.  It is my belief that he was concerned about your ability to complete the mission without me."

Reldan's astromech droid, R2-O0 responds with a series of noises which don't sound at all complimentary.

Rhijans grimaced at Jalt's reference to the mission as a milk run...he wasn't much given to superstition, overall, but declaring a mission's simplicity before they'd even picked up their first requisitions of gear seemed like a reckless method of tempting Fate.

Still, he said nothing about it.  Not everyone shared his beliefs, just as he didn't share theirs.  The protocol droid's commentary about being included in the mission amused him...but he kept it to himself.  He figured the droid probably wouldn't appreciate a human finding his logic amusing, based on the 3PO unit's complaints about the people at the mine.  No sense antagonizing anyone...he was sure there'd be occasion for that later, and for now, it was best to keep things running as smoothly as possible.

"All right," Shard muses.  "Uniforms.  Armor.  You're lucky, Juragga.  Don't have to put on some secondhand threads for this one.  Secondhand Imperial threads, to boot."

She purses her lips. "That means standardized weaponry, as well.  Imperial stuff.  We can take the heavy pistols with us, but not cart 'em around when we're on the job.  Obviously Juragga gets to keep his bowcaster, but we might be able to swing you somethng even bigger as well.  Makes the point."

A frown of concentration puts lines on her forehead. "Does ISB even have standardized uniforms?  I guess so.  Most of the time they wander around undercover, making everyone nervous.  But they must have something they can pull on when they want to show up and present facts."  The frown transforms itself into a dry smile.  "Wearing it all the time would probably be hazardous to their health."

Even in the Imperial Army, nobody likes a rat.

"ISB aren't as secretive as Imperial Intelligence, so yes, they have uniforms for those times when they want people to know they're being watched.  They also have their own stormtroopers, but they dress just the same as the regular ones.  So a uniformed ISB agent being followed about by a couple of 'troopers shouldn't attract too much attention." Reldan replies.  "Well... it will attract attention, but not the wrong sort.  If you see what I mean."

He stands and stretches, "I'm not so sure we can plan much more.  Better to leave things flexible until we know what the situation is on Osmur.  Unless anybody can think of a good reason why ISB would be paying a visit.  Not that they need one, of course."

It's obvious from his tone that, now the plan is coming together, he wants to get going.

Rhijans grinned wolfishly.  "I don't think we need a cover story for why ISB would be showing up...we just need the people there to BELIEVE we have a reason for turning up.  The less that gets said, the better...especially if there's anything at all that's not square and above-board.  If they're innocent, they shouldn't be worried about why we're there, and if they're guilty, they will want to stay away from us and hope to stay beneath notice."

He shrugged.  "So, do we requisition two or three sets of trooper armor?  Might be best to keep Dak in regular uniforms...a stormtrooper sitting down at a data terminal might be a little unusual, an officer or a tech doing the same should be far less noteworthy."  He turned and looked at Shard, appraisingly.

"I think you need to be the ISB agent, though.  An otherwise innocuous-looking woman in command of her own entourage?  There will be an implied threat of ruthlessness there that should serve our purpose.  Especially if you have your own 'pet' Wookiee hovering over your shoulder, at your beck and call..."

Juragga grinned at that part.  He liked the idea of being Shard's Wookiee enforcer more than he liked the thought of being holed up in a vehicle, waiting for something to happen.

Reldan Jalt considers theit options briefly, then, "Yeah... ISB for Shard, regular tech uniform for Haarmon, nothing for the droids and Juragga.  White suits for me and you, Rhijans.  That should do it, I think.  Imperial issue weapons for the 'troopers and the tech, of course.  Shard can, naturally, carry anything she wants because nobody is going to question an ISB officer about personal gear.  Juragga as her tame Wookiee enforcer can probably get away with carrying a non-standard weapon, like a bowcaster, too."

The pilot chuckles, "This is going to work, I think.  Anything else we might want, and can get away with, or shall we go and wake the Quartermaster?"

"Great," Shard mutters, but Rhijans, as usual, has a solid point.  She would work as an ISB agent, better than he or Haarmon, and the men are needed to fill out stormtrooper uniforms.  She almost makes a mental comment on how well they could pull off the 'filling out', but it would be pointless; thermoplast armor doesn't actually give away any detail.

But the plan itself...  "Gonna have acquaint myself with some Imperial etiquette," she murmurs thoughtfully.  But then, there was that time back on Gravitas III, where she posed as Garvin's slave girl during the 'visit' to the Imperial governor.  Void, was that twenty years ago?

Poor Garvin.

"Stuff..."  Rising, she paces back and forth along her row, studiously avoiding tripping over Rhijans' feet.  "Haarmon should have the latest and best interface gear and personal comps.  The 'stormtroopers' with me should be decked out in the heaviest stuff we can find - that is, top-end military weaponry troopers can carry and you guys can use.  And Juragga..."  She eyes him speculatively.  "Maybe a repeating blaster."

A grimace follows.  "This is for appearances.  ISB agents, when they show up in full uniform, like to make a splash, remind everyone that they have to be wary of stepping on the agent's toes, no matter what their rank is.  ISB can't get away with anything, mind - I won't be sassing off to an Imperial Commander - but it's helpful to present the right image."  An ironic grin twists her lips.  "Hiding in plain sight while playing horns, so to speak."

"For me?" Shard rolls her eyes.  "Vibroblade, some needles, holdout blaster, a standard blaster for the holster, maybe a wire with grips.  They'll scan me, see all kinds of weird stuff, and figure I'm dreaming I'm the Emperor's Knife."

And the cursed murder-stick will fit right in with that.

Rhijans nodded.  "Yeah, we want to keep in mind that, even with our cover story, we still wouldn't be invulnerable.  People would be slow to cause trouble, because there's no telling when, down the line, the repercussions would catch up to them...but if we make ourselves troublesome enough, they WILL do something about it."

He thought for a moment.  "Might be a good idea to take some of the standard-issue firepower for me and Jalt, as well.  I like the notion of making a show of our arrival, but if all we've got is the top-end gear, then we're wasting the potential anonymity of the armor...anywhere we go, people would recognize us because of the weaponry.  It'd be nice to be able to stash the rifles on the shuttle and opt for a more standardized load-out for a little recon work."

He turned and looked at the others, thinking.  "Cameras.  Everyone should have a couple of them, and we need the smallest, most easily concealed ones that we've got available.  Never know when a strategically timed image will make the difference between a major discovery and a puzzling footnote in a report."

He focused on UY.  "Would you be opposed to having a recording device wired onto your optics?  Something that you could access and store still images and short clips of footage from?  When it comes to anonymity, you've got the best cover out of all of us...you could probably wander through areas of the base freely that would get the rest of us interrogated heavily for even trying to enter."

UY-3PO turns to face Rhijans, "I beg your pardon.  For a moment it almost sounded as if you... " he pauses, possibly to gather his thoughts, before continuing, "Perhaps you would like somebody to interfere with some of your more delicate components?"

Reldan grins and shakes his head, "Calm down 3PO.  It's a good idea, and we'll get a qualified tech to do it.  And it will only happen if we can find somebody who can do the work without damaging you."

"Sir, respectfully, I disagree with your statement that this is a good idea.  Would you, might I ask, suggest that a human should have a foreign object connected to his sensory system before a mission?  Or is this good idea only applicable to droids?"

"I would like to offer a better suggestion."  He taps R2-O0 on top of his dome, eliciting a whistle of protest, "R2 units are fitted, as standard, with the necessary apparatus to record and project holographic images."

Rhijans grinned...it started out as a grimace, as the protocol droid voiced his protest, but changed to a grin as he offered an extremely viable option.  "Sorry, I don't work with droids often and didn't realize that we already had access to a recording device already."  He nodded and focused on the R2 unit.

"You might even be a better option for that.  Astromech droids are, if anything, even more safely anonymous than protocol droids.  Plus, on a psychological level, you're below eye-level to most folks...they automatically tend to assume 'small' means 'harmless'."  And I already know that you're quite capable of handling independent orders, he thought, but didn't say aloud.  Based on the touchy responses from UY, he didn't want to run the risk of bruising the taller droid's ego--but he remembered their first mission as a team, and being left with the only option being to follow the R2 unit and hope he was leading them correctly to their rendezvous.  That had gone off without a hitch.

Yeah, he had a lot of faith in Jalt's astromech droid.

He looked back up at the protocol droid.  "And I didn't realize you were so protective of your components, though I can understand that.  I'll keep it in mind."

"A cover story is a cover, nothing more.  We don't want to have to stand up to scrutiny," Shard agrees.  "We want to not be scrutinized.  Much.  I'll leave most of the weapons up to you fellows - you know better than I what you'll need - and just pick up my Assassin of the Month garbage."

She listens to the back-and-forth regarding droid modifications, stifling a snort of amusement when You-Why points out the issues.  "Yeah...I can agree with that."  Then comes the surprise, that R2 units are already set up for such.  Well, that saves us some time and effort. Of course, people will be watching out for cameras on an R2, but as ISB, it really wouldn't come as a surprise if they are found to be recording.

"Works for me," she mumurs, with a small nod to Rhijans.  "Good suggestion, You-Why.  If you have any others, the floor is open."

Her smile falters slightly.  "Just...nobody say anything like 'we might just pull this off without a hitch', right?" 

Juragga smirked as the droid went indignant, then chimed in with "My bowcaster is all I need.  A few grenades might be handy to cover an escape, but a heavy blaster isn't my style."

Not to mention he never had gotten the knack of aiming the things.

Decisions have been made regarding equipment.  It only remains now to see what the Quartermaster has available...