The trip to Dor-Tennia, and the transfer from the shuttle to the Dancing Bantha both go smoothly.  Reldan jalt actually sighs in relief as he drops into the YT-2400's pilot seat.  Long familiarity and the gradual permanent compression of some of the springs have moulded it to fit him exactly.  If asked he would declare, and he'd only be half joking, that he could even with his eyes covered and the lights off he could tell if he was on the Dancing Bantha or not by the way it feels when he sits down...

An uneventful flight (with the pilot taking every opportunity to tell his ship that it's much better than any others, all of which are garbage scows compared to it) and they're dropping into the atmosphere of Mothessh.

Dense green jungle stretches endlessly below the ship as it swoops across the landscape, only a little above tree height, to stay below the equally dense cloud cover.  A low mountain range rears ahead, all smoothly rounded crests and no towering jagged peaks.  Old.

The ship flies into a valley that snakes through the mountains, and a sharp turn sees it flying into a side valley and through a curtain of falling water and into a large cavern.

Defiance Base.  Home, for the moment.

Techs hurry forward to service the Dancing Bantha, accompanied by a woman who has occasionally been in the background at some of the mission briefings.  "The Colonel sends his regards, and instructions to get yourselves cleaned up and grab a bite to eat.  Debriefing will be in one hour, in his office."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:25, Mon 20 May 2013.

Shard's fingertips itch.

It's habitual; she arrives back from a mission, and it's time to take a break from responsibility, to take a leave from the fear of failure, to 'celebrate' everyone making it home and try to forget those who haven't, this time and every time before.  To drown herself, wash away past losses, past sins.

But this time, she grits her teeth and struggle to hang on to her resolve.  She made decisions, and it's high time she tried to keep them.  The team made it back this time, the whole cursed team; isn't that a good omen for a change?  Not that she should need such things to make a difference, but.  If excuses have worked against her in the past, perhaps this one can work for her.

And there's no time, none at all.

"An hour is too long," she replies to the woman, brushing down her uniform.  There hasn't been time or reason to change, and she's still stuck in the thing.  "If the Colonel is free, we should debrief now."  A shrug follows.  "If he isn't, we'll have to wait, but I'm playing the 'vital to the survival of the Rebellion' card." She fixes the woman with her gaze.  "It's a first, and hopefully the last.  If you can, I ask - I beg - that you get him to see us now."

Juragga was about to hoot in protest at only having an hour, and then Shard blew that off and wanted the debriefing right away.  His teal eyes bugged and he almost choked as he swallowed a retort; if had been anyone else, he would have given them what for.  But he had too much respect for the Jedi to do so.

Instead, he let out a "mmmmhhhhhhrrrr" of disappointment and then chuffed a query: maybe the could have a food tray brought to the meeting?

Rhijans had been prepared to shrug and roll with the schedule as announced, until Shard's insistence on an immediate debrief reminded him of the urgency of what they'd collected.  He didn't say anything...but he stepped over behind her, looking at the poor woman who was stuck being the messenger in the situation, and crossed his arms over his chest.  The move wasn't overtly menacing...but it did have a sense of finality to it.

"It will have to be an hour." the aide replies, a little coldly.  Her own gaze meets Shard's unflinchingly, "Yours is not the only team which has been performing a mission 'vital to the survival of the Rebellion'.  Another team is currently being debriefed.  The Colonel has been informed of your return, and when he has finished with them, he will see you.  For now you have an opportunity to get changed, eat something, and get your reports straight.  I strongly... "

Her voice is drowned out by the roar of a freighter, possibly Vekkis Lund's Bold Gambit, heading out of the hangar.

"I strongly suggest that you take that opportunity.  Not everybody has a chance to do that today."

"Void," Shard snaps, "our mission wasn't supposed to be that vital, it's the cursed information we received and the bloody timeframe we're all working in."  Struggling, she manages to calm down.  There's no sense in shooting the messenger, and the woman isn't going to change her tune. "All right, then.  An hour."

Turning back to the group, she raises both hands.  "An hour, but let's get everything settled, right?  Hardcopy of whatever you dragged off the system, Haarmon, or at least a summation.  We have the Admiral's report, as well.  Give me that, I'll start going over it for us.  Get relevant information.  Like the Admiral's cursed name."

Juragga murred in horrible disappointment that he had to go groom and eat before briefing the Colonel.  Really, it broke his Wookiee heart.

"See ya in an hour!" was the enthusiastic hoot as he ambled off.  His stomach spoke, and when it called, the wise vacated his path.

Rhijans picked up a pocket data unit and started outlining a tactical assessment, as best he could, of the location...the massive risk of sending ships into the system at all, with all the Imperial craft in orbit...the layout of what little part of the base they'd actually been through, with notes on personnel--technicians, standard Imperial Army or Navy troops, stormtroopers, etc--with their numbers extrapolated to reflect the likely amount of personnel in the whole base...the indigenous risks to trying a surface assault...

He wasn't a military man...more of a semi-professional troublemaker, at this point...but in his estimation, the only hope of defusing the situation was to erode the extremities of the Imperial program, rather than trying to strike at the heart of it again.  Anyone else going in there for the next several months would get a microscopic examination of their credentials and orders, so trying the same trick again was pretty much a non-starter, for plans...

After making his initial notes, he decided some food might be a good idea...it'd help keep him focused, mentally, and while that shouldn't have been much of a consideration here, it was a habitual concern for him.  "I'm gonna hit the commissary and get something to eat and drink...want me to bring anything back for you?" he asked, to those still aboard.  On board the ship seemed the most likely place to have a relatively quiet place to think and polish his notes in preparation for the debrief.

It's closer to an hour and a half.  The team are at the Colonel's office on time, but the officer isn't there.  Reldan Jalt is missing though, having apparently been ordered to ferry another group of Rebels on an urgent mission.  During the ninety minute wait, a number of ships have left the base, and talking to the few personnel still about, there seems to be "something big happening."

When Colonel Kourene eventually arrives, the same woman they spoke to in the hangar is with him, carrying a thick sheaf of documents.  The Colonel walks into the office, and starts speaking before he even reaches his desk, "Good morning everybody.  Sorry I'm running a bit late, but I was off-site and couldn't get back any earlier."

The aide puts a recorder on the desk in front of Kourene, and finds herself a place to sit, where she starts reading the documents, while still obviously listening to what's bein said.

"So... who wants to tell me what's going on at Osmur?  Do the Imperials have a facility there?" the Colonel asks.

Rhijans gave a snort that came out as a soft huff of air.  "That's stating it mildly..."  He did his best to keep irritation from the extra half hour of waiting out of his voice, and the annoyance in his eyes seemed to vanish behind a mask of imposed professionalism.

"The entire system is being patrolled by more Imperial ships than I think I've seen in my entire life, prior to going in there.  The base--and the fleet, for that matter--are secondary concerns to the project they're working on...I think Shard or Haarmon can tell you more about that.  All I know for sure about it is that if they ever get a chance to finish it, it's a monstrosity that will be fatal to entire planetary populations, and the base and fleet are designed to make it impossible for someone to attack it while it's being assembled there.  We managed a few surprises that will set them back for a while...but you're not likely to get another infiltration team in there unless you can get them iron-clad IDs and orders.  I think this is bigger than we're geared to handle...the only way to stop this thing will be to prevent stuff from arriving at Osmur, because trying to do anything about it once they've got it there will be massively costly, in a best-case scenario.  It will be outright suicide, in anything other than a best-case scenario."  His tone was flat, devoid of any sort of emotional urgency that might make his assessment sound like hyperbole.  Whether or not anyone else in the room might believe him, he was pretty sure that a return visit to Osmur would result in a lot of dead Rebels.

Shard waits while the experienced Rhijans gives his assessment.  It's a bit of a back-to-front debriefing, with the defenses being laid out before they talk about the situation, but sometimes it's better to make that point first.  "Agreed," she states when Rhijans finishes.  "We have a great deal of information, Colonel, both from personal observation and information we garnered from their computers.  Some of that was actually handed to us as a report."

She offers a thin smile. "Admiral Brishin got the idea in his head that I was Nimadda.  Given Nimadda showed up while we were leaving, he - or his successor - won't make that mistake again."

"From the look of it, it's basically another version of that superweapon everyone has been talking about recently.  Some kind of huge station, with planet-killing weaponry."  The idea sickens her.  "We've got specs, tech information...and full information on its defenses, though they're probably going through changes."

Her lips tighten and she leans forward.  "Admiral...if the rumors about that other superweapon are true, and we did manage to destroy it, the Empire won't make the same mistake twice.  Thanks to some really inspired sabotage on the part of Haarmon and Rhijans, their schedule will be set back and their defenses are weak right now.  But in a few weeks they'll be able to get that fixed, their defenses will become effectively impregnable, and they'll finish that thing."

About half way through Rhijan's statement Kourene lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  He stays like that until Shard finishes.  And for about ten seconds after.

Finally he looks up, "We'll have to send another team in, I suppose.  Obviously you can't go back there - too much chance that you'll be recognised.  I'll need hard copies of all the information you have on the layout of the base.  And your best estimates of manpower and equipment."

"Collas... " he looks at the female aide, "I'll put you in charge of getting a cover story together.  Take your time - I'd rather have a story that takes a month to work up and stands up to scrutiny than a quick one that's full of holes."

When he looks back to the group, he looks like a man who's just bitten into something sour, "Thank you for bringing this intel.  I'll act on it as soon as possible."

Rhijans nodded at the Colonel's request.  He'd expected...and prepared for...as much.  He held out the datapad where he'd put his notes together, sorted in order of encounter--fleet picket ships, the core of the fleet (as he remembered it), planetary defenses, compound layout and estimated garrison strength, and a final section on the natural threats that were mentioned.  "We didn't get to see very much of the compound, so I can't vouch for the accuracy of the estimates on the ground forces or the identification of some of the compound buildings.  The stuff we did see and are positive of, I've noted.  It's likely they'll make some changes as a result of this, possibly increasing troop strength and the base layout might shift a bit, but I can't imagine any of these core buildings will shift.  We didn't do THAT much damage...I think..."

He realized, as he made the statement, that he had no idea what a shield generator, even one that might be on standby or powered down, might do when it blew up--much less several of them in close proximity.  They may have just blown all the internal components on one...or several...they may have fried the interior of the building...they may have taken the top off the place and toppled the dish.  If the blast was big enough to feed back into the energy channels, they may have left a massive crater where the shield generator used to be.  They hadn't exactly been in a position to closely scrutinize the damage when the blast went off.

At any rate, confirmation of all that information would be someone else's job.  And he didn't envy them a minute of it.  Being a saboteur was risky enough...following up a sabotage mission, when the enemy was already on edge and angry, rather than complacent in their sense of security, was standing on tiptoe on the razor's edge.  While he was sure there were situations in which he'd be willing to do that, he couldn't envision any of them right now.

Shard drums her fingers on her thigh, only half-listening to Rhijans.  Not through boredom.  Nor through relief.  Nor, even, due to anticipation of a bottle of Zidran Brandy; there's likely a half-full one somewhere in her quarters, despite her last whirlwind attempt to throw them all away before she changed her mind.

No, this is worry.

She studies the Colonel for a long moment, her lips pursed.  The older woman blinks several times, and her gaze rises to stare at the wall behind him.  Through the wall behind him.  Slowly she breathes out, nodding to herself.  There, the void, the empty calm.  There, her nervousness, frustration, hunger.  And there, between them, the balance.

Her breath escapes her in a hiss.

"Colonel," she finally begins, "is there something else?" Her gaze returns to his face.  "Something you're not telling us?"

For his part, Juragga sat quietly.  But as the report was given and the Colonel reacted, he went from feeling like they had done amazingly well... to feeling that they'd failed somehow, missed a key opportunity.  Wouldn't it have been worth their lives to destroy that thing?  Could they have managed even if they'd tried?  SHOULD they have tried?

The Wookiee had nothing but questions, now, in place of a smug sense of triumph.

The Colonel seems... not displeased by the report, though he is concerned by its implications.  He also appears to be a little distracted as Rhijans fills in more details (or explains the lack thereof).

Still not displeased.  Just concerned.

That changes when Shard asks him if there's anything he isn't trlling them.

"How... ?" he demands angrily, then, "Ah... damned Jedi.  Always snooping."

He calms down again almost immediately, stands, and turns his back.  After a brief interval Collas, the aide, coughs and says, "Forgive me Colonel, but you told me that it's my job to advise you, and to tell you if I feel you've made a mistake."

"I believe that you should tell them what's happened."

Kourene turns back, glaring at the aide, his face flushing red, and he opens his mouth to speak, then bites down on his words.  Closing his eyes, he stands in silence for a moment, before quietly starting again.

"We sent out three other teams, shortly after you departed for Osmur.  All of them have suffered heavy casualties.  Only one member of Echo Team came back, and he's currently in a bacta tank aboard a medical frigate.  It appears that the Imperials are starting a major push back against us."

"To make matters worse, we've heard from Vekkis Lund, who was sent to Oomba's base to negotiate a price for power couplings, that the Hutt has, very recently, taken possession of a batch of slaves, delivered to him by an Ubese smuggler, who apparently had a ship full of them."

At the news of the casualties, Juragga's eyes widened, but they narrowed sharply and his fangs were bared at the mention of the Urbese smuggler handing slaves over to the Hutt.  He snarled in wordless indignation and outrage.

Rhijans' face would have shown a scowl, if it had been that expressive.  His eyes went icy hard at the mention of what the Ubese had done.  Yes, they'd used him as a prop, of sorts, turned him into the phantom the stormtroopers had been chasing around the base, but that didn't excuse the action at all in Rhijans' mind.

He wasn't sure what to say...he'd lived too long in a world where the commentary on such actions was the report of blaster fire, and struggled to find words.  "Should've just left him on that ice ball," he muttered.  They couldn't have, really, though, because they'd needed another ship to get the slaves away, and the Ubese had been the only other pilot.

He seemed about to speak, to explain or comment or something...and then closed his mouth.  His jaws clenched as he considered the dilemma they'd been in, and the only way out of it they'd seen at the time...but it didn't comfort him any, just nursed a seed of annoyed resentment for the Ubese.

Shard snorts.  "Not...Jedi," she mutters, though there's no sense in denying she had felt something.  But one doesn't need to be a Jedi for that much.

Her frustration, however, transforms quickly to first concern, then flat-eyed fury.  There's a faint grinding sound from the vicinity of her jaw, though nothing appears to move for a long moment.  Then, with surprising rapidity, Shard relaxes, but it's into a slump. "Void.  Hot, cursed, void," she mutters, running fingers through her hair. "That little worm. Yeah, we should have, Rhijans."  She glances at the man, sees something that's as close to an open wound as the man has shown.  And she can't help but understand.

From the Imperials to the Hutts; it's not an improvement for the slaves.

"All right," she sighs.  "What are we doing about the slaves?  Anything?  We can't, can we, not with the Imperials pushing hard.  And now we know why." One finger jabs at the hardcopy they've left on the Colonel's desk. "That.  They want us off-balance, uncertain, and not snooping around and finding out about their plans."

Her tone hardens.  "Too late."

"We've paid for this information with the dead of Echo team.  And those slaves haven't any reason to thank us, either.  But if we're ever going to have a chance to help people get out from under those Hutts, we have to do something about this first, curse it all."

She closes her eyes. "That would be the tactically sound way to think...but we can't just abandon those slaves.  Colonel..."  Her lips peel back from her teeth in something that remarkably resembles Juragga's expression.  "We can't just leave them."

Juragga rose, shaking his head.  "WaaaAAAhhhhrruuuuhhhhNN," he rumbled.  He would not leave those slaves to their fate; could not.  To him, it was a matter of honor.  Wookiee honor.

"As far as I'm concerned, I'm responsible for the people on this base." Kourene looks tired as he adds, "And their actions."

"That means I need to find out how the other teams' missions were so severely compromised.  But it also means that I have to get those people off Carodol.  As far as I'm concerned one of my teams handed them to Oomba - and I'm not blaming you, you thought you were taking the best option to free the slaves - but it's my job to make sure that it gets rectified."

He takes a seat at the desk again, "The problem is that the two things have happened at the same time.  With the losses on the other teams I can't afford to send as many people as I'd like to Carodol.  And I need to keep  enough back to hunt for a spy, here on Mothessh."

"If anybody has a brilliant and unorthodox plan, for dealing with either of those things, I'd like to hear it."

Rhijans contemplated the problem a moment.  Part of him...a small part, that occasionally cried out and was generally promptly ignored...wanted to rush off and deal with the issue of the slaves and the Ubese.  The more rational part of him, the part he'd learned to listen to early on for the sake of his own survival, pointed out the many flaws with that plan...making a 'message' out of the Ubese would mean confirming to Imperial spies that the events on Alrirkr were, in fact, the work of Rebel agents--something he'd gone to great pains to obscure, even though odds were good the Empire would assume it had been Alliance operatives.  So they couldn't very well make an example of the Ubese.

And there was the question of the security breach.  He'd never worked with an organization this size before, so operational security, in his experience, had always been a matter of 'don't tell anyone else what you're doing' and the problem took care of itself.  He started thinking about the whole matter.  "I don't really have enough information to start building a plan, unorthodox or not.  How many and which people knew about the other missions, but didn't know about ours?  That seems the obvious direction to start looking..."

The problem with hunting spies was that they were really good at not being noticed, but they had to start narrowing the field of possible suspects somewhere.  Even if nobody on the initial list proved to be a spy, the behavior of people around them while they were being investigated could give a clue...

"Your guess is as good as mine.  We've had people in and out of here, and a lot of them, in theory, didn't know about your trip to Osmur." the Colonel responds, "The big question then is how many of them knew about the other teams.  In theory, none of them, because I try not to tell people about missions that they aren't involved in, at least until people are safely home."

He shrugs, and spreads his hands, "So, in theory, again, that points to the senior people on this base, because only we know about all missions.  And, by the way, we have no proof that word of your trip wasn't leaked.  After all, Ghea Nimadda did show up at Osmur.  Maybe you only got away with going there because it was all arranged at the last minute, and the Imperials didn't have time to set up a proper reception committee for you.  For all we know, they got word about your visit, and the Moff sent his pet assassin to deal with you, but she arrived just as you were leaving."

"Cursed good thing, too," Shard mutters.  The lean woman paces back and forth in the office, frustration filling her.  "I see the problem, Colonel.  I could...try to help with ferreting out a spy, but given your comment earlier, I don't think you'd like my methods.  Frankly, I don't particularly like them, and would rather not."

Pursing her lips, she blows out a slow whistle, then nods.  "We could handle getting the slaves out ourselves.  Would that leave you with enough people?"  One eyebrow cocks.  "It just means no frontal assault against the Hutts, and this group seems pretty good at improvisation." 

Rhijans gave a sniff...on a more demonstrative person, it might have been a snort.  "Given the way we operate in this sector, a frontal assault on the Hutts would be a bad approach to start with.  Even if we got in and out intact, you don't slap the Hutt Syndicate in the face and walk away.  We'd be hiding from the Empire AND the Hutts, at that point.  And the Hutts are willing to devote resources to chasing us down that the Empire deems as beneath their dignity..."  He shrugged.

"Whatever we do against the Hutts is going to have to be subtle, fast, and as anonymous as we can possibly make it.  The best-case scenario would be to pin the blame on the Ubese and then we'd take care of two problems in one shot, but that could be a lot trickier than it sounds."  His lips pursed for a moment, and then he shook his head.

"Tactically, it's more important to locate the spy.  Any and every operation that takes place with any support from this base becomes a potential death-trap as long as the potential for it to be leaked is still present.  I know that means that the slaves could potentially be sold and dispersed and we'd lose the chance to free them all in one shot...possibly even lose the chance to ever find all of them...but a lot more than fifty lives might be lost if we send personnel into a meat-grinder where they're not only trying to infiltrate a Hutt operation, but they're also going in there with Imperial knowledge of the operation."  The notion of the slaves being stuck in slavery, under the 'tender ministrations' of the Hutts, was visibly repulsive to him, but his own reasons for wanting to go after them were strongly personal...and he'd learned a long time ago that things went very wrong when you took such situations too personally.  Mathematically, the spy was the bigger risk, to him.

He turned to the Colonel.  "That said, if you decide the slaves have to be the top priority, I'm in."  He paused, and added, "If we could just figure out some way to turn the operation into a bait-and-switch...feed different personnel here in the base misinformation about it, that would lead to Imperial action that was actually in no way related to our mission...it would at least help us narrow the search a bit."

"It should be easy enough to feed misinformation to people." Kourene replies with a nod, "There are people I know I can trust to handle that, Collas here," he waves a hand towards the aide, "is one of them."

"I believe I'll send you to visit Oomba, but it won't be today.  You'll need a pilot and, unfortunately they're all out right now on damage limitation duty.  That's why Jalt isn't here, I had to send him to move some equipment to make it harder for the Imperials to find it, even if they've been told exactly where it is."

He leans back in the chair, steepling his fingers before him, "With luck, I should have somebody available tomorrow.  In the mean time I'd recommend getting some rest.  I also want you to run any plan past me before you leave."

"Is there anything any of you want to add?"

Down-time... The thought should have been something to celebrate, even if it was only a day or so.  Rhijans didn't do inactivity well, however...and the thought of being stuck on a base with an Imperial spy made the notion even less appealing.

He almost completely suppressed the snicker that came when mention was made of plans, and what escaped was a barely-audible sniff, combined with a vague flicker of amusement that crossed his features.  Their 'plans' as far as he could recall, fit the term in only the loosest sense...although that may have worked in their favor, in the most recent activity.  Hard to give anyone counter-intel about the group's activities when the plan consisted of 'get there and figure it out on the ground'.

The amusement faded quickly, however, as he contemplated the prospect of a day or two spent waiting for a free pilot.  He was tempted to volunteer himself as pilot, but he wasn't certain his largely-theoretical knowledge would translate well into practical use.  They weren't THAT desperate, yet...

No.  Time to rest...and snoop, perhaps.  See if an ear closer to the ground heard something that escaped the Colonel and his staff...

Shard studies Rhijans with one eyebrow raised.  The man is getting positively talkative these days.  Not surprisingly, he goes for the big, tactical picture.  Shard isn't much of a big picture person, herself.  Oh, she'd like to be.  But the moment someone pushes a small picture - usually of a bunch of people - in front of her face, the big one goes out the airlock.

Fortunately, the commander is fine sending them after the slaves.  She's not going to complain about that.

"Tomorrow," she whispers. "We should pick up some stuff at requisitions.  Maybe a few choices of clothing of different sorts if we want to make some kind of impression.  That's working for us...so far."

I should put in some time exercising, to boot.  And not thinking about the bottle, don't think about the bottle...

Now, thinking about what to add?  That's easy.  Stepping forward, she taps the hard-copy they got from the Imperials. "This.  We can't ignore this, Colonel.  It's too big.  And I mean that; it's huge as death, and we're running out of time.  Take it seriously - we were there, we saw everything.  It exists, and it's everything this information says, and more."

A shrug follows.  "Nothing more."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Mon 17 June 2013.

"Oh, I intend to take it very seriously." the Colonel assures Shard.  He reaches for the hard-copy and pulls it across the desk towards him.  "I'll read it through, and once I know, for certain, that we've dealt with any Imperial agent on the base, then I'll run up a plan for dealing with this thing.  But only after I'm sure the Imperials won't know all the details as soon as we do."

"Of course, I'll likely give it another team to handle, since your face is probably known to everybody from the lowest trooper to Ghea Nimadda herself by now."  A rueful smile, as he adds, "That's why I'm sending you to deal with Oomba.  Less likelihood of some Imperial recognising you from the latest bulletin.  As far as I know, even they know better than to tangle with a Hutt on his own territory."

Kourene stands and stretches, before picking up the report.  "As for the rest... get some sleep and something to eat.  I won't order you to search for spies, because I think you deserve a short break, at least.  But I won't stop you if you get bored and want to wander around the base in your free time."

"Now, go and take some R and R.  I'll talk to you about the Hutt tomorrow."

Food and sleep...  It would be advisable to get those taken care of before he gave in to the sense of boredom that always hit him when confronted with enforced inactivity.  It was not altogether impossible that he'd wind up sleeping straight through to the briefing tomorrow.

But he doubted it.  He only ever slept that much when he was ill, and he felt no indication of that right now.  "Tomorrow, then," he commented as he rose and filtered out with the rest of the team.

"Well, like the man said, I'm going to get something to eat.  Maybe I'll get lucky and notice someone acting strangely in the Commissary..."  A vague hint of a grin slipped to his features.  Already, he was starting to calculate...twenty-some-odd hours, give or take, to tomorrow's briefing...he'd feel a lot more comfortable going into Hutt space with the knowledge that there was NOT an Imperial spy leaking information about possible intersect coordinates.  An hour to eat, five or six hours of sleep...that would leave him with a few hours to snoop.

He'd figure out where, later.  First order of business was food.  Without waiting to see if anyone was coming with him, he turned in the direction of the cafeteria and started walking.  They'd set their own priorities, given the time frame available.

While others move out to handle their free time in their own way, Rhijans heads directly to the cafeteria.  The food may not exactly be the sort of cuisine that they serve in some of the Galaxy's better restaurants, but it's better than what's available in many places - nutricious, moderately tasty, and with a good likelihood of staying swallowed.

The place is oddly quiet - in fact, now that he thinks about it, the whole base seems quieter than usual.  Perhaps most people are out, dealing with the logistics of picking up equipment and personnel before the Imperials do.

The only other perso in the cafetaria, apart from one bored looking server, is Shisskurr, the big Trandoshan that Rhijans has worked with on occasion.  The alien is sitting the furthest corner of the room, shovelling food into his mouth while he reads something from a datapad.

He notices Rhijan's entry, and gives a nod of recognition, before going back to his reading...

Dismissed, Juragga rose and ambled back to his quarters.  He was hungry, and he needed a drink.  But the desire to knock back a few was offset by his thoughts of the slaves they'd let fall into Hutt hands.  Determined to free them, somehow, he mulled that over on his way to his quarters.

Food.  That seems like a good idea at present.  Shard ambles down the hallways of the base in search of the cafeteria, lost in her thoughts.  It actually takes her several minutes to realize that the back in front of her is the same one the whole way, and another minute to understand it belongs to Rhijans.

Well, she'll let the man walk with his own thoughts, for the moment; Shard has her own things to consider.

Once in the caf, she offers a small wave to Shisskurr and snags a tray from the dispenser, falling in behind Rhijans.  It's a short lineup.  "Not exactly a hotspot," the older woman murmurs.  "At least the food's decent."  Better than foraging, and she's done that in her time as well.

Lost ten pounds in a week.

"So.  What's on the menu for you, Rhijans," she inquires, one eyebrow arched.  Obviously, Shard isn't referring to the lunch; selection is limited, in any case.

Rhijans shrugged.  On top of everything else, he found himself mildly annoyed that Shard had apparently followed him...not because it was her, but because he was so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed it.  Granted, they were supposed to be on friendly terrain...but the Colonel's briefing had made it clear that this terrain wasn't necessarily completely friendly.

Live and learn, he told himself.  And be thankful that it was a friend this time...  He indicated Shisskurr with a curt nod of his head.  "I was thinking about comparing notes with a familiar face while I eat, and then maybe doing a little snooping around on my own.  Not sure how well I'll sleep knowing that someone might be reporting on our upcoming trip to people I'd rather never heard my name..."

Sitting down with Shisskurr would hardly be unobtrusive...Trandoshan weren't exactly regarded as sociable, especially with races not their own.  But some visible collaboration, even if it proved futile in terms of actual intelligence gathered, might get someone nervous.  And nervous people tended to do things that made them easier to spot.

He started off in that direction, then.  It wasn't much of a plan...but there were too many unknowns to really plan much of anything.  It was even remotely possible that Shisskurr was the agent, although Rhijans was pretty sure that the Trandoshan didn't have the connections to get all the intel the Empire had apparently received on recent Rebel actions.  With the exception of his own team, this seemed like a relatively safe place to start asking questions.

Juragga heads back in his quarters, with his mind focussed on slaves, and ways to rescue them.  As a Wookiee, on an instinctive level he knows that the easiest plan would be to walk into Oomba's compound and start knocking heads together until there are no more left.  On a practical level, though, it's probable that Shard and Rhijans would object for some reason.

Haarmon would probably be okay with it though, he's a decent kid...

Still, it might be good to have a backup plan.  Something subtle and devious, because Wookiees are famed for their subtlety and deviousness...

Rhijans and Shard make their way closer to Shisskurr, and the big Trandoshan watches them warily.  He lays his datapad down carefully on the table, face-down.  "Thanus.  Shard." he growls, before shoving another load of what looks like raw meat soaked in some sort of sauce into his mouth and swallowing without chewing.  "Just got back?  Any trouble?"

The questions seem friendly enough, but even the friendliest question, asked by a Trandoshan, sounds like a challenge...

Rhijans shrugged.  "Nothing we couldn't handle, in some ways easier than flying through a swoop gang and in some ways harder."  He wasn't sure how to read the Trandoshan, but figured it certainly wouldn't hurt to reference their earlier misadventure.  "Better luck than most, apparently, because we left just as the Empire was preparing to scoop us up and got out intact.  You?"

It dawned on him, as he explained in terms he deemed general enough to be safe, that someone else as suspicious as he himself tended to be might look on their successful return...apparently the ONLY successful return of an intact Rebel team in recent action...as grounds for wariness.  If the Empire apparently knew about EVERY action except one, it would raise alarms in his own mind.  It didn't matter that a large part of the Empire failing to intercept them was likely due to the fact that they, themselves, didn't even know for sure what they were going to do when they left Mothessh...they just had a destination and a general outline of a mission.

But he couldn't explain that.  He could only hope that the brief time they'd been together on a team made enough of an impression that the Trandoshan wouldn't be as suspicious of him as he would be if the positions were replaced.

It was a longshot.  But so was trying to blow up an Imperial shield projector with a few grenades.

Clearly... clearly this would call for the height of Wookiee deviousness.  Instead of charge in and bust heads... they would have to SNEAK in and bust heads.  Yes... Juragga could imagine it now.  Once inside, there could be freedom to howl and bash and blast at will, making as much ruckus as a tornado.  What could possibly go wrong?

Perhaps Haarmon would have some input.  He would have to have a chat with the kid... right after he had a couple good swigs of Wookiee rotgut.

"Rrrrrmpph?" he rumbled, turning at a perhaps-imagined sound behind him.

Haarmon entered the cafeteria, looking a little tired. He'd just spent a few fruitless hours with the base techs trying to see if he could help ferret out how the theoretical spy might be getting his information to his masters. He tried. But thousands and thousands of lines of log code later, he had to admit there were just too many ways to do and not enough ways to find out.

And so he went looking for Juragga. Juragga was really good at commiserating. His solutions always involved breaking stuff. And that's just what Haarmon felt like doing.

But he didn't see his Wookie friend. He saw Shard and Rhijans talking to some Trandoshan chump over in the corner. So he grabbed some Meat Stew Surprise and sauntered on over.

He flopped himself down at the table and started shoveling food into his mouth. "Hey guys," he sort of mumbled. "What's the haps?"

"Bad times." Shisskurr agrees, "Lots hurt.  Not me, not this time.  When we come back from Dateen and gets split, I sent to Cepraz with other team.  Got shot bad in leg.  Cepraz not nice place... hot and wet.  Jungle planet.  Leg gets sick.  No work for me after that.  Gets better, much slowly."

"Happy I stay here now.  Lot trouble out there."

Haarmon drops down at the table, and the Trandoshan nods to him, "Bad haps all ways."

Juragga turns, growling... and a maintenance tech jumps about a metre in the air and drops a stack of datapads that she's carrying in one hand, with a loud clatter that causes people to stick their heads out of a room further back along the corridor.

"S-sorry... " stammers the tech, "I wasn't paying attention, and you startled me."  She crouches down and starts to pick up the pads, most of which, Juragga can see, are displaying various diagrams and blueprints.

She stops and looks up at the Wookiee - way up - "Hey, I'm new here.  I'm trying to get to the reactor chamber, only I'm lost."  She holds up one of the pads to show Juragga, "That's why you surprised me.  I was trying to follow this, but must've taken a wrong turn.  You wouldn't know how to get there from here, would you?"

"Shisskurr, this is Haarmon Dak; Haarmon, Shisskurr.  Maybe you know each other.  We worked with Shisskurr a few times before," she continues. "Been on a couple of missions with Haarmon now, Shisskurr, and he's easily been pulling his weight."  She takes a bite of the food, grimaces.  "This always tastes better with a drink," the older woman mumbles around the mouthful, chewing gingerly.

Seems she's going to have to adjust to a different world, now, a shocking realization.

"Leg is taking a while to heal up?  What's up with it?  Get shot by a repeating blaster?"  One eyebrow rises.  Shisskurr is a pretty tough customer, she recalls.

Shisskurr inclines his head in Haarmon's direction, "Not met, no.  Seen around, maybe.  hard to tell, most Humans look the same."

The Trandoshan shakes his head, "Not repeating blaster.  Stormtrooper rifle.  Only little wound, but got sick.... "  He pauses, and closes his eyes, lips moving silently for a moment, until he suddenly opens his eyes again, "In-fectioned.  Muck in wound.  Or bug gets in and makes sickness.  Cepraz not good place for wounds.  Good place to hide things.  Enemy smart enough to find what you hid is too smart to go Cepraz."

"What next for you?"

Rhijans shrugged in response to Shisskurr's question.  "We don't know yet.  The Colonel's got a couple of ideas, but he's been pretty close-mouthed about what they are, thus far.  We're supposed to find out in a day or two."  Technically, it was true...they hadn't been given an assignment, although it had been broadly hinted that they'd next be going to do something about the slaves delivered to the Hutts.  Rhijans wasn't sure he wanted that spread around, however.

"The Empire found you on Cepraz?  Any idea why they even went there looking?" he asked, before taking a bite of his food.  It was bland...but the commissary food generally was, he ate it out of necessity and not because he liked the flavor.

"If they're poking around Cepraz, as bad as it sounds, they could very easily start checking out some of the other less-pleasant corners of the sector...including Mothessh."  He scowled a bit at the thought...not that it was new, but it was still unpleasant.  And he was annoyed that he'd resorted to what was, to him, a painfully transparent ploy at fishing for information.

But the Trandoshan was unusually talkative, from what Rhijans remembered of him, so giving him an excuse to keep talking might be worth it, even if it was a flimsy attempt at luring him into a discussion.

Haarmon, perhaps predictably, blushed just a little at Shard's praise. And then he looked up at Rhijans' next bit of conversation. He tried his best not to look either interested or suspicious. But truth be told, interested and suspicious were what his face did best, so he probably didn't do a very good job.

Why's Rhijans jobbing this guy? Haarmon asked himself. It was some clear-cut jobbing. First the lying, then the leading questions? Jobbing.

But why? Is this guy a bad guy? Or is this all one more piece of Rhijans' invincible mystical tech ninja schtick?

Well. Maybe Haarmon had no idea what the heck was going on, but way he saw it, that was no reason he couldn't jump right in and get involved.

"Hey, uh, Rhijans. That's not totally accurate anymore. S'Why I'm here. Our orders cam down just now. Colonal sent me. Said that he wanted to keep this all on the hush-hush on account of the... you know... Anyway. Got 'em all right here." He pulled out one of the datapads he had in his pocket.

"Whenever you're ready to read 'em."

He resisted (just barely) the urge to drop Rhijans and/or Shard a wink(s).

Rhijans' face remained inscrutable, the only indicator of any surprise at Haarmon's interjection being a momentary pause as he was raising food to his mouth.  Had this happened in the not-so-distant past, he would have been annoyed...but Dak's maneuvering back at the Imperial base had bought the kid some slack.  Rhijans wasn't sure what his play might be...or even if he actually had one...but he wasn't about to ruin it with some kind of outburst.

"Later...unless it's something so important that it can't wait for me to eat," he commented in response, before popping another bite of food in his mouth.

"Not know why Empire was there." Shisskurr replies, then pauses to stuff more food into his mouth and swallow without chewing. "Nothing on Cepraz for them I think.  Or maybe is... they were there, so must have reason."  he gives a low rumbling laugh, "Maybe they like qormots, and want to mark territory all time."

And then he grows serious again, "Big planet, Cepraz.  And they find us in jungle.  Something not taste right."

Haarmon interrupts, and the Trandoshan falls silent, staring at his plate as the young Human offers the datapad to Rhijans...

In the corridor the tech studies her own datapad, then turns it through 180° to look at it from a different angle.  "Nope," she says to Juragga with a sigh, "it's no good.  I'm good and lost.  I guess I'll have to go back to where I started, if I can find it again, and begin all over."

"Weird that they found you so quickly," Shard muses.  "Say, Shisskerr, you remember that woman? Gia Nimadda?  Was she there, or did you hear of her?"  That might explain a great deal.

One eyebrow cocks toward Haarmon.  Orders?  Or is this another of Rhijans and Dak's gambits?  They keep cooking these things up behind my back...  Well, she'd better back their play.  "I'll have a look at those orders, Haarmon," she replies.  "Someone has to make sure we get to the ship on time...gimme."  A wave for the datapad follows.

"Not see her." Shisskurr replies to Shard, after a brief pause for thought. "Busy day.  Much fighting.  No time for look and ask questions.  Just shoot and move."

Then he goes back to his meal.

Juragga frowns as he looms over the stammering tech. "Mhhrmmmrr," he rumbles noncommitally.  Then, he reaches out for one of her datapads.

Rhijans swallowed his food, with a soft snort.  "Shoot and move.  Sounds kinda familiar..."  They actually hadn't done all that much shooting on their last foray...that would have attracted far too much attention.  But it had ended up being much the same...attack and then get away.

"That's beyond odd," he said.  "I mean, I'm not all that familiar with Cepraz, really, but there's not really anything there to hold Imperial interest, is there?"  Best to go for it, he told himself.  Trandoshan were not sociable enough for Shisskurr to have been much of a spy...he'd be too noteworthy to be snooping around.

"Was there anyone here that knew where you were going?" he asked, his voice dropping as he leaned in slightly.  "With all the high-priority systems in this sector, the only reason I can think of for the Empire to have troops on Cepraz would be if they knew we were going to be there..."

Spy, no...but Shisskurr was a Trandoshan, and the race had hunting instincts in their genes.  Maybe he'd noticed something that wasn't quite right...something that would give them a hint of where to look further.

Shisskurr freezes with the next mouthful of food half way to his lips.  He cocks his head to one side and regards Rhijans intently, then looks at Shard and Haarmon.

"You think there is spy in base.  You think maybe Trandoshan spy."  He shakes his head and grins, displaying a disconcerting array of teeth.  "I thought of this too.  Spy tells Imperials where we go.  Imperials wait and ambush.  Now I think maybe not right.  If Imperials know we here... " and a clawed finger taps on the table, then lifts to point straight up, "... why no star destroyers up there?  Imperials not so quiet and sneaky.  Use straight attack if they know target.  Not risk letting us start mission... better for them if stop us before mission start.  Better to destroy base."

And again the grin, "No base means no Rebels and that means no missions.  Easy for them fix problem that way."

The tech hands Juragga the pad and waits while he studies it, "It's just the jobs I'm supposed to be working on.  See?  Got to adjust a thermal regulator in the reactor core.  And then I need to change a power transfer coil in that corridor, and for the next one... I need to check some control interfaces."

Rhijans smiled drily.  "I suspect a spy, yes.  And I won't deny, the prospect of it being you did cross my mind...of course, part of me suspects everyone here, except myself.  The more I thought about it, the less plausible you became as a spy...I'm not that familiar with your race, but spycraft doesn't seem to fit well with what I do know of the Trandoshan.  Or of you, in particular."

With that out in the air, Rhijans began chewing on another mouthful of food, thinking as he chewed.  "And I still suspect someone's leaking information..." he said, after swallowing what he'd been chewing.  "Just, perhaps, someone who has a reason to not let the base be compromised, or someone who's dribbling out information to the Empire because they're getting paid...if the base is wiped out and the Rebels are gone, there's nothing more to report and no reason for the Empire to pay."  He punctuated the point with his utensil, stabbing into empty space for finality.

He shook his head.  "There has to be some kind of leak, somewhere...too many teams got hit at basically the same time, across too many different systems where the Empire doesn't have a heavy presence.  I refuse to accept the possibility that they somehow miraculously managed to be that lucky."  His voice was low, but still reasoned and calculating...it was an argument of logic, not passion.

"Sorry, Shisskurr," Shard mutters, feeling poorly about the whole affair.  "Rhijans was running this, so I backed him."  The corner of her mouth twitches downward.  "For what it's worth, I don't buy you as a spy either."  The older woman takes a mouthful of food. As punishment.  "You're too smart for that," she notes around the food, and despite his appearance, Shisskurr is.  She chews slowly and deliberately as she listens, savouring every bit of the vile flavour before swallowing.

Absolution.

"Hutts," she decides - maybe it's the bad taste that made her think of them. "Look, we're in an area lousy with them.  They're a major power in this district.  You can BET they're not happy with the Rebellion or the Imperials.  More rebels means more Imperial rule here, with more pickiness about crime, because it's easier for rebels to operate where things are lax.  More Imperials means more fights between rebels and them, which isn't good for business either.  If they back the Imperials fully, they risk them moving in and taking over completely.  If they back us completely, they know we won't be terribly good for business if we come out on top."

A shrug.  "They keep us fighting, keep us working hard, both sides, while they go along accumulating information, power, whatever...I don't like Hutts.  Never have, never will.  And this just reeks of them.  Maybe it's all just a theory, but whatever is going on, I'm sure there's a pair of fatty, greasy hands in the pot."

Haarmon was about to hand over the datapad, the one that he had planned to lace with a keylogger before he 'left' it at the table for 'someone' to find, when the Trandoshan figured out what they were getting at and basically shot the whole thing into the void.

Are you allowed to be smart AND big and strong? Somehow that doesn't seem... balanced... Haarmon shook his head at the thought. This was the really-real world, and not everything was gonna fit into neat little categories.

So he shook his head and put the pad away. "Yeah sorry," he mumbles. He listens to Shard and nods. "Yeah. That could be it. It's a bugger if so. Hard to track Hutts on the Nets. So much of what they do is off the grid."

Juragga wuffed a reply, eying her schematics.  Nodding, he jerked his head towards the corridor and then set off an an ambling gait, the meaning clear: follow me.

The tech starts to follow Juragga, while studying her map of the base.  After the first half dozen paces she gives up on the latter and focuses on following the Wookiee instead.  After all he's leading her somewhere, unlike the map...

"I'm glad I ran into you.  Everybody else is too busy to show me where to go.  They just tell me to follow the useless map.  Don't they realise I have a lot to do, and only a limited time to do it in?  Would it kill them to give me a little more help?  I mean, it might even actually kill them if I don't get the reactor working properly, but do they care about that?  Oh, no... their job is more important than..."  The tech pauses and laughs nervously, "Sorry, when I get stressed I can't shut up.  People tell me that all the time.  My name's Kedra, by the way."

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

"Hutts!"  Shisskurr spits the word angrily.  "Fingers in all things."  he thinks for a moment.  A long moment.  Then continues, "Might be Hutt and spy.  Spy say to Hutt that base here.  Hutt feed story to Imperials, one bite at time.  Imperials leave Hutt alone because he passes news regular.  Imperials not know that Hutt has whole story now.  Only know what Hutt say he know."

To demonstrate his meaning, the Trandoshan breaks off a miniscule crumb from his meal and peers at it before making a big show of popping it into his mouth and swallowing hard.  "Food last long time this way."  Another tiny crumb of food disappears into his mouth...

Rhijans nodded, grim appreciation for Shisskurr's insight showing in a half-smile on his face that turned to something cold and hard in his eyes.  "That makes perfect sense...and the Hutts would have an easier time getting someone they chose to be in a position where they'd have access to important information.  An Imperial agent?  Likely be be caught in the vetting process, depending on how many ex-Imperials are up the chain of command and looking at personnel files."

He speared a morsel of food viciously.  "But a Hutt plant?  So many people in this organization are already criminals of one stripe or another, who would know what to look for?  Even if you traced them back to the Hutts, there's still another layer of cover to remove them from the Empire."  He popped the food in his mouth, chewing slowly as he shook his head.

This could be much harder than he'd thought it was going to be...

Making his way into the cafeteria not unlike a freight train, Juragga headed for the food line even as his techie follower was no doubt surprised at their destination.  Pleased to see his comrades in attendance, he hooted a greeting, then added some in depth Wookiee for those in the know:

"New techie here, says she's looking for the reactor room.  Say hi, don't let her blow up the place."

Shisskurr nods, "Yes, hard for Imperial spy fit in.  Not so hard for Hutt spy.  Hutt spies not wear perfect neat clothes.  Not salute everybody in case they ISB."  He laughs, something between a growl and a hiss...

Kedra looks around the nearly empty cafeteria and sighs, her face falling into a pit of despair and gloom, "Just my luck.  I think you're as lost as I am."  Juragga calls across to Rhijans, Shard and Haarmon, and the tech's expression brightens up again, "Are they friends of yours?  perhaps they know how to get to where I'm going?  Is that why you brought me in here?  To meet them?  I must admit, you're a little difficult to understand.  No offence.  I'm sure that, to people who know your language, at least, you speak very clearly.  Unfortunately that doesn't include me."

Juragga moves through the line quickly, though this time it isn't because people get out of his way (oddly, few people seem to want to get between a hungry Wookiee and his meal for some reason), but simply because he and kedra are the only two people in the queue, and she isn't really interested in anything to eat.  The odd couple move towards the table.

The Trandoshan grimaces, "There goes chance for peace and quiet.  Lucky has finished anyway."  He stands up and prepares to leave, picking up his tray and his datapad...

Juragga's hoots, growls, and soft roars elicited nothing but a blank stare from Rhijans, who glanced to the side to see if Shard or Haarmon understood what was going on.  For all Rhijans knew, the Wookiee was telling them that he'd found the maybe-Imperial-but-likely-Hutt spy that the Colonel had told them about...

Either that, or some bizarre inter-species attraction for the technician on his heels.  Either one seemed equally plausible at the moment.  He might even be introducing the tech as someone who had a plan for getting the slaves back from the Hutt.

The options were endless...but all most likely inaccurate.  He'd wait to see what others, better versed in Wookiee, could make of it.

"Hutts," Shard grumbles again.  It all fits.  Maybe it isn't correct, but it fits.  If that's the case, they're heading in the wrong direction, looking in the wrong places.  It could be a planted spy.  It could also be a paid spy.  After years in the rebellion, the enthusiasm could wane, the altruism get a little tarnished.  She knows this.  And some people would sell out, if offered enough.  Sufficient funds went a long way toward assuaging guilt; failing that, they could buy whatever chemical cocktails one needs to forget.

She knows about that, too, though her own choice of bottled fog never broke the bank.

"Stay safe, Shisskurr," she shoots back at her former teammate.  "Catch you later." The blank expression on Rhijans' face isn't hard to translate; it matches in the incomprehension in the tech's eyes.  "Apparently Juragga has found someone looking for the reactor core," she notes, motioning the curious pair over. "Juragga -" with a motion toward the Wookie, by way of introduction "- informs me that you're new here, and you're looking for the reactor core.  You'll understand if someone who can't find her way around going to work on the core makes me a little twitchy.  What's up?"       

Juragga nods to Kedra as he piles his plate with enough food for three humans and warbles a response.  "GrrraaaaWWWWW," he said.  Yep, of course.  That, and well, making sure she's not the spy and looking for the reactor to blow them all up.  Seemed less and less likely.  No spy could jabber that much.

He ambled over, food and techie in tow, to sit with Shard and the others.

The young tech sits down about as far from Shard as its possible to get and still be at the same table.  She carefully places her stack of datapads in front of her, and her tool box on the floor beneath her chair. 

"His name's Juragga?  He might have told me that, but I didn't understand him.  I'm Kedra.  I'm new here."  She smiles nervously as she picks one of the pads up.  "I know my way around a reactor, but they gave me this map of the base, and I must have taken a wrong turn, because it doesn't match what I've been seeing as I walked about, and everybody's too busy to help me.  Except Juragga.  He's the first one who stopped to talk to me."

"So I've been walking about for nearly an hour, and every time I go into a stupid corridor on the stupid map it turns the wrong way, or ends in a wall, or just leads to a storage bay.  And this room, see?  This room should be primary environmental control, according to the map." she holds the pad out, showing that it is, indeed, a map, "See?  It shows that we're sitting in the main ventilation pump.  I don't know about you, but I always thought it would be draughtier than this."

"So I'm lost, and I have all this work to do, and some of it has to be done in a certain order, and it all has to be finished by the end of my shift and... and I'm sorry, when I'm nervous or upset or worried I just can't stop talking.  Sorry."

Rhijans scowled a bit...not that it was immediately apparent on his face, as his neutral expression tended to look like a scowl, anyway.  But the brows pulled a little closer, the eyes got a little tighter, his jaw clenched slightly.  "You can read a reactor schematic and you can't read a base map?" he asked.  His tone could have been construed as mocking, slightly...or suspicious.

"Where'd they send you here from?" he asked.  He scooped up more of the food, popping it in his mouth to eat, slowly chewing it as he waited for an answer.

"Hand it over," Shard says with a sigh as Rhijans begins.  Snagging the map from Kedra, she studies it.  "I'm Shard," she mumbles, an absent reply to the introduction.  "That one's Rhijans, this one's Haarmon.  Juragga you know.  Sort of." 

Well, it LOOKS like the main ventilation pump room for her, and Shard doesn't have the computer know-how to figure out what's wrong.

"Maybe you've got maps mixed up or something," she offers.  "Haarmon, can you figure that out?"

Aside to Haarmon, Juragga warbles a low chipper in Wookiee to explain things.  Anyone who was fluent in Wookiee would understand, but he wasn't making any effort to speak clearly for the sake of the barely-initiated.

"With everything that's going on, a 'new' techie lost and looking for the main reactor core made me suspicious.  But, either she's really good, or I was being paranoid - she seems harmless enough."

He lifted a shaggy brow over one of his teal eyes before woofing, "Then again, so do you," to Haarmon, with a sly grin.

Haarmon reached out to the proffered databad with barely suppressed eagerness, his head filled with vague overheated thoughts at the implications of impressing two girls at the same time.

He took it and started messing with it. When Juragga started up he cocked his head to the side, listened and scowled. "What are you rawring about? I'm a fierce outlaw, you know? A wanted man! I've got fines pending in 12 systems! But. Point taken. Lemme run a li'l diagnostic here."

Haarmon takes out his PBD and hooks it up to the datapad and starts pressing buttons.

"I was at at a training camp on Priler for a few months, before I came here.  And before that at home, on Ral-Exun, my whole life." Kedra explains, her expression glum, "I joined the Alliance through a friend, and ended up here, and now I can't seem to do anything right.  I'm going to end up sent somewhere else, or home."

The mere thought of being sent home looks as though it will reduce her to tears...

"Reactor schematics are easy.  They make sense.  This place doesn't.  Parts of it are natural caves, and other parts are constructed, and the natural parts double back on themselves and cross over, and I keep ending up lost."

Shard coughs.  Delicately.  "Your map.  That...that isn't actually this area of the base," she points out. "Who gave that to you?  And who said it was?  Because nothing on that map resembles this area in the slightest."

Not to mention the utter lack of a place named 'Cafeteria.'

One eyebrow rises. "No offense, but...does this sort of thing happen often to you, outside of this base?"  She's known a few people with outrageously poor senses of direction.  On the other hand, it might not be her fault, if someone else gave the maps to her.

Rhijans said nothing, still watching and listening with a calculating eye.  She could be as new as inexperienced as she claimed...or it could be a front.

Or she could be a decoy, unwittingly sent in to distract anyone who might be watching over the reactor or any of the adjacent areas.  He scowled, internally, the emotion barely registering on his impassive face.  Too many unknowns, still, he thought.  Shard's question might help clear that up a bit...knowing who'd sent the tech to this part of the base looking for the reactor could be helpful.

Haarmon's fingers patter across the keys as he digs into the datapad. He mutters a few indistinct curses, some of which sound vaguely Wookie. He does, however, notice the tensions among his teammates. He was still smarting somewhat from the Trandoshian seeing through their clever ruse. But maybe this one was the spy?

One could always hope.

He looks up at the tech. Shrugs. "Best I can tell your pad's just broken. Let's get it sent over to the quartermaster and get you a new one, huh? Or I could lend you mine."

"My shift supervisor gave it to me, along with all the others."/<Aqua>  One hand reaches out and pats the stack of pads in front of the tech, and several of them slide off, clattering on the tabletop.  One even makes it all the way to the floor.

<Aqua>"I have a terrible sense of direction." Kedra admits with a sigh, "Makes me glad I'm a tech and probbably will never be trusted to go on field missions.  My brother says I could get lost in my own room...  Well he used to.  Before he... "  Now, if anything, she looks even more depressed.

Haarmon's mention that the pad is broken, brings a brief smile, tinged with sadness, "Broken?  That's probably my doing.  I bet it happened when I...  Well... I was lost and the map was useless, so I threw it at the wall.  Only it bounced back and nearly hit me in the face.  So I kicked it.  Twice.  Then a third time, for good measure."

Another sigh... "I'll take it to the Quartermaster.  He'll probably get annoyed at me, like most other people.  Can anybody tell me how to get there?  Or, better still, take me to him?  Because if I go on my own I'll just end up lost again."

Rhijans' suspicions ratcheted up another notch.  While it was not totally implausible that someone with such an incredibly poor sense of direction actually got enough training to be an effective technician, he was skeptical.  In his experience, people who couldn't find their way to some of the key points in a base like this usually didn't survive long enough to become proficient at much of anything.

He didn't say anything, however, just continued to eat, wordlessly, watching Kedra carefully for any flicker of emotion that didn't fit, any indication of competence at odds with the flustered exterior she presented.  He wasn't sure if Shard was buying the story, but it certainly appeared that Haarmon was...

Shard's face screws up slightly.  "You kicked it?" And she's a technician?  "I'd hazard the Quartermaster won't be happy, no."  Leaning back, she studies the young woman for a long moment, taking the chance to check out the reactions of her team.

Juragga?  Nothing as yet.

Haarmon?  If he's playing, this time, she can't tell.

Rhijans?  Nothing.  And she knows him well enough now to say it's not a good sign.

"I think taking you to the Quartermaster would be quickest," Shard decides, standing.  Then they can get some better idea of what's up.  "If you get lost that easily, that is."  She studies her food.  "It'll save me having to eat...this," the older woman confesses.  "C'mon."

There's a small pause as she stares blindly at the wall, her gaze seeing through it, and space, and time. "I'm sorry about your brother," Shard finally states, a parade of faces dancing before her mind's eye.  none of her relatives, and it's hard enough just like that.

Juragga had started out very suspicious of the young techie, which was why he'd led her here instead of to the reactor room.  Then, as he had listened to her interact, he'd become more and more convinced she was harmless.  Inept even, maybe, in an endearing sort of way.

"RuuuUmmmmfff?" he woofed, raising a shaggy brow as he addressed Shard.  Maybe check her orders with a supervisor?

"Well, of course I kicked it... I don't have a blaster on me."  Shard's commiserations regarding her brother bring a nod, mumbled thanks, and a flush of red to her cheeks.  Standing, Kedra reaches under the chair to retrieve her tool box, then puts her hand out to Haarmon for the pad.  "I'll probably have to show that to the Quartermaster to get a new one."  She adds it to the stack of other pads, almost knocking them over again.

"Thank you for your help, Juragga.  You were very kind.  The rest of you too.  It was nice to meet somebody who could spare a little time to try and help me out."

"So, which way to the Quartermaster? she asks, smiling at Shard.  Her mood seems to be gravitating towards "cheerful" again.  Though "less gloomy" might be a better description.

She follows Shard out of the room, leaving Rhijans, Juragga and Haarmon to wonder what might happen if she actually finds the reactor...

Out in the corridor, Kedra stops, looking about, "I don't think I've ever been in this hallway before."  Which is odd, considering that Juragga brought her into the cafeteria from this direction.  "Before today, I mean."

Rhijans watched as Shard led Kedra out of the cafeteria.  Under different circumstances, he probably would have just let them go and not worried about it.  As it was...

He set his fork down on the tray and stood up.  "I'll be right back," he said.  If he didn't say anything, the other two would probably want to come with him...and while he trusted Juragga to be relatively unobtrusive in following someone, he had no reason to think Haarmon would be any good at it.  Walking at a casual pace, he left in the same direction as the two women, trying to keep enough distance between them to not be noticed.

How successful he would be at that, he could only begin to guess.  It'd all depend on how many others were roaming the base at the moment, to help mask his presence.  But if his suspicions were correct, Shard wasn't safe being alone with the other woman, and part of his ego was still smarting from having lost Jacobs.  He wasn't going to sit back and risk it happening again.

And then everyone got up and started walking away! Haarmon was just getting into this. He grumbled a bit and put away his PBD and stood up and ran after Shard and whasserface. Whatever it was that was happening he wanted to be a part of it.

"Rags! You coming?" He called back behind him. And then he saw Rhijans walk away when he assumed everyone was going to the quartermaster's as well. "Hey Rhijans! Where are you going? Supplies is over this way!"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:01, Thu 08 Aug 2013.

"Good plan, Juragga," Shard replies with a slow nod.  The tech likely doesn't understand Wookie, so she sees no problem with the response, and if she does and is lying?  Well...then they're into 'She's A Spy' territory one way or the other.  "Yes, it's this way.  Follow me."

She cocks an eyebrow at the woman's question.  "Consider it your second time, then.  Keep following me, I can see it wouldn't be a good idea for us to get separated."  One way or another, she silently considers.  There's some shouting going on behind them; it could have to do with some plan to ferret out the woman's true intent, so Shard doesn't call attention to it.

Instead, "So who is your supervisor?" she questions.  "Shouldn't be sending you out like this." 

"My supervisor?  Voso Shood." Shard knows the name.  She's seen it on notices fixed to malfunctioning equipment.  They usually read something like, "Out of order.  Do not use.  Voso Shood", or words to that effect.  "I don't really like him.  He gives me the worst jobs because I'm new here."

"I suppose he didn't think I could get lost if he gave me a map."

Behind them, Haarmon is shouting something.  Shard may have noticed, but Kedra seems fairly oblivious to background noises as she focusses her attention on  following the same route as Shard, and studying the various signs and notices that they pass

Ahead of him, Rhijans can see Shard and the tech, Kedra, walking along and engaged in conversation.  Whatever they're talking about, distance and Haarmon conspire to drown it out...

Rhijans paused just long enough to look back at Haarmon with an unmistakably annoyed expression, and give him a 'get over here' gesture, hoping in the brief moment that took that he didn't manage to lose contact with Shard and Kedra.

Just when I start to think there's actually hope for the guy... he thought impatiently.  Might be time to explain a little something or other to Haarmon, for their own safety.  Something like, when people in your group decide to go their own way, there's usually a good reason for it...

"We'll have a chat with Voso, I guess."  Shard shrugs.  "Maybe we can get him to lay off you.  Nothing bad; maybe tell him you're a good person."  She grimaces. "Leaning on him would be awfully Imperial, and likely to backfire to boot.  No, just chat with him, drop a hint or two that you just need help getting the idea around here."

So they trundle along, headed for the Quartermaster.

Juragga shook his head in embarrassed pain, winced, and gobbled down another mouthful of food.  Then he ambled after Dak and shrugged helplessly at Rhijans, a universal expression that said 'Whaddayagonnado'.

It's not a long walk to the QM's stores, only a few minutes, and Shard manages to make it all the way there without Kedra suddenly revealing that she's an Imperial  assassin, or some sort of Force sensitive agent working for Nimadda.

The tech still seems to have missed the shouting from behind them, or if she did hear it then she's really good at hiding that fact...  It is, though, probably just another sign that she wouldn't make a good field agent - anybody shadowing her would literally have to walk into her before she noticed them.  Or if she did notice them before that it would probably be because she stopped to ask them for directions.

Take now, for example, if she were being followed by an entire group of stalkers (possibly even including somebody as large as a Wookiee) in all likelihood she would be completely unaware of their presence.

The Quartermaster's clerk gives Shard a slightly sour-faced nod as the two women enter.  Then he catches sight of Kedra, and his frown suddenly turns into a broad smile, "Hello Kedra!  I don't know how you did it without any parts, but that field demodulator you fixed is working better than ever.  What can I do for you and your friend today?"

"Hi Barsh.  I told you, it didn't need anything replacing, it just needed the inversion coil adjusting." Kedra replies, then looks at Shard, "Barsh is from Ral-Exun too.  From a different raft though.  Barsh, this is Shard.  She's helping me."

She holds out a datapad to him, and says quietly, "My map's defective."

Barsh takes the map and studies it for a moment, "Defective, or brutally murdered?"

Shard offers a toothy smile for the Quartermaster, knowing she's on his list.  Heaven forbid that she bring back some of her equipment used, diry, or not at all.  It's not there to be used after all, only stacked neatly on a shelf and tagged to be coded into a database.  Lovingly itemized and assessed on occasion, perhaps, and audited with the care it deserves.  All part of the deep Philosophy of Supply.

Quartermasters.  The same everywhere.

But it does seem that Kedra isn't the person they're looking for, or if she is, she's so amazingly skilled they'll never find out.  "Yeah, giving her a hand," Shard notes.  "She's having some problems getting around, so I figured I'd help.  We're between missions, but we'll be going out again soon."  That'll put him in a GRAND mood.

"Sooo," she continues.  "Rafts?  What's that about?"

"I... dropped it.  By accident." Kedra explains, her voice brimming over with sincerity.  The Quatermaster's only response is a disbelieving, "Uh huh." and a sad smile as he turns away to find a replacement for the broken pad.  Over his shoulder he calls out, "When you have time, perhaps you can fix it for me?"

The broken datapad sits on the counter, fixing Kedra with an accusatory (and wholly imaginary) glare.

"Ral-Exun is mostly water.  And swamps.  No real towns, just community rafts.  Maybe a thousand families living on some of the bigger ones."

The clerk returns with a datapad, and connects it to a dataport.  "I'll just download you a new map."  He gives Shard a smile which is slightly less warm than the ones he has bestowed upon Kedra, "When you know where you're you're going, and what you need, come and see me."

He looks past the two women, and scowls, "What can I do for you?"

Haarmon and Juragga are standing in the entrance to the store room.

Just up the hall, where he'd stopped...he was just trying to keep contact with Shard and Kedra, which didn't necessarily mean actual eyes-on position, after all--he could hear every word of their conversation with the Quartermaster...Rhijans heard the question the Quartermaster asked and looked up in surprise, knowing he was out of sight and wondering who the man was talking to.

Should've known, he thought, as he immediately saw Haarmon and Juragga framed in the doorway.  For just a moment, he considered withdrawing from the situation completely.  It would keep his presence hidden, making it easier for him to pick up the tail again.

But that would mean leaving team-mates swinging in the breeze, as the saying goes, and that didn't sit well with him.  "Did you get them?" he asked aloud...loud enough to be heard in the Quartermaster office beyond them, without sounding like he was trying to make himself heard there.  He stepped up behind them, managing the 'coolly impatient' look because it was already on his face for a different reason.  He looked past them at Shard and Kedra and gave a soft snort.

"I guess not.  Well, we can try the target practice and see how long we go before the power-cells are actually depleted, no need to get new ones just yet."

The moment Haarmon called out after Rhijans he saw the look the man gave him and then heard the scorn in Juragga's voice and he realized he was being a total dimwit. His face reddened and he muttered a curse to himself and he resigned himself to following along silently.

So when Rhijans came up behind them talking about power cells, he shut his mouth and looked around, afraid to say the wrong thing again.

"Lovely world from which you hail," Shard dryly notes. "Not saying anything about the people, but the world itself...that could drive someone to drink." More.  "Then again, I'm from Zidra, land of skin-flaying blizzards and domes, so I can't really talk."

She offers the quartermaster a small salute.  "I'll put in for your reccomendations, as well.  Might work better that way."  It's not only a compliment, but true.  Quartermasters often have things that field operatives can't imagine would do any good, but prove incredibly useful in a bind.

She glances over her shoulder at the knot of people in the door.  For a moment, Shard feels a surge of pleasure that her team would follow like this.  Keeping her out of harm, keeping watch in case of trouble, all of that.

Only a moment, mind.

"You lot going to shoot something?" she inquires.  Not this girl...I figure her for the real thing.

Haarmon, she notes, looks mopey.  What now?  Rhijans barking at him again?

Seeing the complete cluster-jam, Juragga shook his head and warbled loudly in Wookiee.  Mostly people wouldn't understand; it was just a general expression of embarrassment.  Then he added, "GuuuRRRAaaaar" - I'm always looking to shoot something - with a fanged grin.

Rhijans shrugged.  "We've got some downtime, we've been out several times and jostled our gear around, and I want to make sure this thing still shoots straight."  He laid a hand briefly on the butt of his blaster, in its holster.

"Figured now was as good a time as any, although it's been a while since I put a fresh power-pack in it.  Wouldn't do me much good to get two shots off and have to walk back up here if I did manage to knock my sights out of alignment."

He glanced at Haarmon and added, "And I'm curious to see if this kid's half as good with his blaster as he claims to be.  He's been full of surprises, kinda hoping he's got at least one more in there."  He didn't smile...his tone barely even changed, in fact, but by comparison to his normal degree of stoicism, a perceptive soul who'd known him for a while might almost take the comment to be good-natured teasing on his part.

Haarmon's eyes brightened at the mention of shooting. His downtrodden face lit up in his biggest, brightest. smarmiest smile. He looked for all the world like a little, little (little, little) kid on Life Day Morning who just got that scale model of the Executor he'd been wanting all year.

"Claims to be?" he scoffed, "Claims to be? If anything, I've been remarkably recalcitrant up till now. I can take the hair of a wookie's ear at a hundred paces. Rags? Am I right?"

Then he realized that his metaphor was, perhaps, poorly chosen.

"Not that I would, you understand. Just that I, you know, I could. You know?"

Rhijans glanced up at Juragga, wondering, for just a moment, whether Wookiees actually had ears under all that fur or not.  With a mental shrug, he moved on.  "That's good, because if they send us where I think they're planning on sending us, we may need another sharpshooter."  He actually had no idea where they might be going...at least, no more clear an idea than the rest of the team.

But it wouldn't hurt to get an objective tactical analysis of the kid's (yes, he'd started thinking of Dak as 'the kid' again) marksmanship.

Barsh watches the datapad for a moment, and nods at Shard's comments, "My recommendation?  Don't mistreat the gear you're issued with.  It might be the last one in stock."  Once he's satisfied that the map is downloading correctly, he asks the group in the doorway, "How many cells do you need?"

Kedra gives Juragga a smile and a wave.  It looks like the fact that the Wookiee actually had time to stop and listen to the tech might have earned him a new friend.  Then she sighs and looks at the datapad, "Is it ready yet?"

"Almost." Barsh replies, though he's no longer watching the pad, because he's behind a shelf a little way from counter.  Kedra moves closer to the pad to take a look, and Barsh demonstrates that he has some sort of Jedi mind trick at his disposal... without looking out from behind the shelf he calls, "Don't touch that.  It's still processing data, and you haven't signed for it yet."

Barsh comes back around the shelves with an open carton, which he drops on the counter.  "Power cells." he announces.

Rhijans stepped up.  "Just one for me.  Odds are, wherever we get sent next, I'll have to make another visit here, I can pick up more, then.  The same for these two, unless they've got some stashed somewhere or some burning need for additional ones."

While he still didn't necessarily trust Kedra, it was becoming pretty apparent that Shard did...and knowing his own natural inclination to be overly suspicious of people, he had to give her opinion some extra weight in deciding how to proceed.

Which meant, basically, that Kedra was a dead-end in their spy-hunt, and they had no one else as potential suspects.  So, going to make sure the weapons were in good repair and still accurate was at least a constructive thing to do while trying to figure out where to look next.  And maybe they'd get lucky...if he kept up enough noise about knowing they needed good weapons where they were getting sent next, he might lure someone into sniffing around to try and get some news to throw out there to the Empire.

"None of these have a full charge, because I'm not going to hand out the full ones for target practice without authorisation from Kourene himself.  Need to keep them for real operations.  They're all at at least half charge though.  Take your pick"

Barsh takes a quick look at the pad, then disconnects it and hands it to Kedra, and his voice seems to soften again, "Here you go Kedra.  Try not to break this one."

The tech accepts the pad with a quiet, "Thank you Barsh." and starts to operate the controls, "This map doesn't look the same as the one I had."

"That would be because the one you had was broken."

"Anybody need anything else, or can I get on with my work now?"

Juragga gave a friendly wave at Kedra, then chuffed and rolled his eyes at Dak.  A Wookiee's ears indeed.

He was glad Kedra didn't seem to be the spy, because he liked her in a paternal sort of way.  But of course, that left them back at square one.  It could be anyone, and they had no leads.

Rhijans stepped up, reaching out to grab the appropriate power-cell for his blaster without even deliberating.  "If all goes well, I may even actually bring it back in the same condition I got it," he said to Barsh.

Given his naturally dry tone of voice, it was impossible to say, for sure, if he was commenting on the limited use he intended for it, or if he was joking about the standard declaration of quartermasters everywhere on handing out equipment that was expected to be returned.  To the casual listener, at least.

Those who'd known him for a while would realize that, while his tone wasn't much different, the fact that he was even commenting on it was 'funny', for him...

"You could have done better than that," Shard grumbles.  The 'reccomendation' didn't help much at all.  "We're all on the same side here, and you've a better idea of what you have - and what it does - than I do."

Suddenly irked by the neverending animosity between supply and field, she lays her forearms down on the table and leans forward.  "Look, I know you have responsibility for all this stuff, and you have to keep it ready for whoever needs it.  Because more people than just me and my group need it.  I get that.  I try to bring things back in good shape.  I want to bring things back in good shape.  Your goods are what we have to work with.  The Rebellion needs it, and it needs it functional."

She waves a hand over her shoulder at the small knot of people behind her. "But sometimes the blaster bolts start flying, and I've got a hole in me, or one of them does, or maybe someone tosses a concussion grenade at us and it lands on someone's pack.  Or maybe it's one of my friends dead.  Void, it's a dirty business out there with a lot of people dying.  So sometimes the gear comes back dinged up.  And I know, that's something you're going to have to take time trying to fix for the next person what needs it, or maybe write off and struggle to scrounge up a replacement.  Which stinks."

Drawing in a deep breath, Shard straightens.  "And I'm sorry about that.  I really am.  And I'll do it again, because that's what me and my group do.  We take that equipment you give us and we put it to cursed good use out there, trying to shut down that Empire we're all fighting.  Without it, we'd be in deep."  She draws a deep breath.  "When I ask for a reccomendation, I'm hoping you'll give me something I can cursed well use, maybe something new, something that might come in handy on any mission.  If you can't, fair enough.  And I'm sorry for getting a little hot under the collar here, as well."

"Now, I'm going to go keep getting myself in shape."  Irritated with her irritation, Shard flicks a two-fingered salute at Kedra.  "Good luck, Kedra.  Comm me sometime, or maybe we'll bump into each other." Clapping Rhijans on the shoulder, firing a nod at the dynamic duo of Juragga and Haarmon, she strides off down the hall.

Rhijans actually showed an expression as Shard launched into her diatribe.  Surprise.  By the time she was done, he'd wiped it away again, but when she clapped him on the shoulder and began walking, it returned for a moment, as he looked at Barsh and shrugged...Don't ask me, I'm as surprised as you are, he seemed to say.

He made an educated guess at the power packs the others would need, grabbed them, and followed Shard.

Kedra frowns at the map, adjusts the controls again, and as Rhijans and the others follow after Shard the last thing they hear is her saying, "Oh... I see.  I went wrong here, I think.  Should have turned left.  No, no...  Right, then left."

Barsh says nothing.  He just picks up the carton of power cells and takes tham back to the shelf.

Shard stalks angrily through the corridors of the base, with people seeming to instinctively knowing they should move out of her way.

Rhijans and the others head up to the hangar, where they can get easy access to the outside world and the makeshift shooting range hidden in the jungle.  When they get there, the place is deserted...

With nobody else about, and only the assorted howls, screeches and hoots from the jungle to disturb them, the rebel heroes can be moderately certain that nobody could overhear any discussion that they might have as they send bolt after bolt of blaster fire down-range...

Rhijans slid out his own powerpack--fully charged--and put in the one he'd grabbed from Barsh.  No sense wasting a full charge on target practice, after all...

His aim was off, a bit, however, after sending four shots downrange and none of them hit the target.  Well...at least, didn't hit the part of the target he'd been aiming for.  He stopped, looked down at the weapon, and sighed.

"Well...anyone else have ideas on some way to lure a spy out into the open?" he asked.  He didn't really expect an answer, but he realized that his frustration level was interfering with his shooting, and the best way he knew to deal with that was to get it out in the open.  Address it, acknowledge it, get used to whatever was frustrating him and learn to accept it as normal, and then it wouldn't bug him so much and he could aim again.

Haarmon was, quite frankly, afraid to say much of anything. Between Rhijans giving him the hairy eyeball earlier and Shard going all Dark Side Anger-leads-to-Suffering on the poor Quartermaster, his little cadre suddenly felt like he was back in public school again, with a minefield around every conversational corner.

So he concentrated on his shooting. He stood in his lane like a holo-vid gunslinger, hips cocked, hand on blaster, eyes narrowed, mouth all in a smarmy twist. And then he drew and fired once, twice, three times, with lighting speed. Gun was away, and he had three perfectly respectable holes in his target. He smiled. More of a smirk actually.

And so, afraid to talk or not, Rhijans' question was, at heart, a simple one.

"We need a Honey Pot," he said, deliberately trying to keep his voice calm and even. "That's what you catch spies with. Honey Pots. Trouble is, we just need a really, really good one."

Juragga watched the kid shoot perfectly, as usual - on the range, anyway.  And then he glanced over to Rhijans.

"WaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHrrrrrrgh," he commented.  If a 'honey pot' was a trap, then that was their best bet - lay some bait for the spy and see who bit.

For a moment, Rhijans just stood there, looking down the range at the trio of hits that Dak had just scored.  "That's actually half-decent shooting, kid," he said.  He raised his blaster, fired off a shot that hit the same target, but nowhere close to the trio of scorched perforations, and then turned halfway to Dak.

"Okay, kid, there's your 'Wookiee ear'...show me how you burn the hair off of it."  While on the surface, he apparently either hadn't heard or chose to ignore Dak's suggestion about a honey pot, his mind was churning on the notion.  But he usually came up with his best ideas while doing something other than focusing on the problem, so testing the kid's claims seemed like a productive idea to him at the moment.

Haarmon let his hand rest on the hilt of his blaster in a way far too casual to be anything other a deliberate attempt to be casual.

"Yeah, Rags, a Honey Pot," he said, slightly distracted. "Look. Funny thing about Spying is that the economics of scale on info is all cocked sideways. You think that, the more important the info, the more useful and valuable, no? But it ain't always the case. The more important the info, the fewer people know it, and so once it gets out, the fewer suspects. So the more valuable the spy, the less stuff they can actually share."

After Rhijans' shot, Haarmon gave the blaster scorch the ole high-noon stare. Again, the flexing of the hands on the hilt, the cocked-hip stance. And then the blazing-fast draw and the streak of blaster bolt down the lane. It didn't hit Rhijans' target close enough to burn its hair off, but had it been a Wookie's ear, it'd have felt the heat passing by.

Haarmon nodded, smiled to himself, holstered his piece.

"So, same with the Honey Pot. The better it is, the less likely the spy's gonna take the bait, because they know it'll get 'em nabbed. But if it's not good enough, it's not worth the risk. And if it's too good and too easy, they'll know it's a trap. You gotta lay this kinda thing out so, so careful like."

Rhijans looked down-range at the shots arrayed around the arbitrary target he'd made, his mouth pursed thoughtfully, again apparently ignoring Dak's explanation.

Without any preface, he turned to Dak, with the closest thing to a smile on his face that Dak had seen, except when Rhijans had been 'playing nice' to people while they were out on assignments.  "There's hope for you yet, kid," he said.

He holstered his blaster.  "Okay, we need a plausible lead to dangle, something valuable enough to draw out a spy without being so obviously a trap that they hide and wait for the interest to blow over."  He paused for a moment, and added, "Which they might be doing right now...they've got to know that a LOT of people are looking, right now, after so many missions going sideways at the same time."  He folded his arms across his chest, one hand reaching up to cradle his chin as he scowled at the ground.

"Any ideas?  Something we can run with, ourselves...it'll take too long to clear it through the Colonel and there's always a chance that the spy could be someone on his staff and if we run it through him, we end up with everyone that handles his paperwork as spies, too."

Haarmon shook his head. "Not quite. We have to assume they know we know. So they're gonna suspect anything that gets dangled anywhere. So. We dangle. And then we go do something else entirely. And they see the feint and double back. And we're waiting. Yeah? A Honey Pot for the Honey Pot."

He took a breath. Smiled and shrugged. "Now what that looks like outside my head? I have no fracking idea."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

Rhijans nodded.  He was a pragmatist, and while he had an ego, he knew there were times to not have it get in the way.  "You're going to be better at this than I am.  You're a slicer, you work with information and figuring out what's valuable enough to people to be worth some risk."  He shrugged, and then gave a predatory grin.

"I'm just the guy people call when they decide they're tired of someone else running around and eluding the law.  These days, I'm not even that.  But this kind of thing is outside of any training I've had, any skills I've had to develop."

He paused, and looked up at Juragga.  "What about you?  You got any ideas?"

Juragga looked down at Rhijans thoughtfully.  He was well-used to the complicated web that Dak's brain formed, swimming in and out through a maze of technical problems with ease.  It was only when the kid tried to deal with social interactions that he got all entangled.

Now? He was in his element.  But people didn't usually ask Juragga for ideas - they asked him to break something, lift something, or shoot something.  Was that really all he was good for?

Turning to Dak, so that Haarmon could translate - he knew Rhijans hadn't yet picked up fluent Wookiee - he rumbled, "One way might be to offer up a tempting contact - a Rebel losing morale, going to seed... disgruntled.  One with info and clearances.  And then see if the spy makes contact in any way." He glanced at Rhijans, indicating to Dak to translate if he would.

The trio continue their target practice for a little while, alone in the jungle.  The cave that serves as a hangar isn't even visible from here, though the mountain range that sits atop the base is occasionally visible above the tree-tops.

By the looks of those peaks, shrouded in cloud, there will be rain later in the day.  Lightning flickers up there, in the heights, as if to confirm that rain is on the way.

The rumblig which suddenly rolls down from above is not thunder though.  A transport ship, a Ghtroc Industries class 720 freighter, passes overhead, slowing and descending towards the hangar.  Perhaps worryingly, the freighter seems to have suffered some damage.  A pair of Z-95s are escorting it.  As the larger ship drops out of sight beyond the jungle canopy the two fighters peel away and streak skyward again...

Haarmon craned his neck and watched the ships pass overhead. After they'd passed he turned to Juragga and nodded. "Rags says maybe we make it look like someone wants out. Bad mnorale. Axe to grind. See if maybe someone makes contact? S'a good idea."

Rhijans nodded.  "Yeah, it IS a good idea.  Question then becomes, who gets dangled as bait?"  While he thought he could pull it off, in terms of conveying the role, he didn't see himself being connected enough to be very appealing.

He watched the freighter coming in...between boredom and curiosity, he wanted to know what was going on with it.  Three options came to mind--it was someone returning, from yet another mission-gone-wrong; it was someone new coming to the Rebellion; or it was someone who'd been snooping around and they were being forced down to the hangar by the patrolling fighters.  If it was the first or the last, it could be someone with additional information.

He swapped power cells in his blaster, replacing the partially-spent one from the Quartermaster with the fully charged one he'd had in the first place, and holstered it.

"Let's go see what's going on with the incoming ship.  We won't get there in time to see who's coming off, but we might pick up some chatter about it...and maybe get some new insights on the whole situation."

"Wait up a sec," Haarmon said, his voice a little impatient, "What if, an dI'm spitballin' here. But what if I picked a fight. With you guys, and with the whole Alliance? And what if, more specifically, I picked a fight over not getting the respect I deserved, and even more specifically, because maybe I'm mad because this whole place has lousy security and I know how to fix it and no one will listen to me because I'm just some smarmy little punk?"

He nodded. Clearly excited. "Yeah. A fight. A loud one. Somewhere super public. And even Rags could be all don't be like that lets calm down and eat some ribs and I'll be all like are you sidin' with them?"

"You see it? Yelling. Screaming. About my place in the Alliance. About SECURITY, dig? And I stalk off. And maybe? You know?"

Rhijans gave it a moment's thought.  "Only two possible flaws I see with it...if they've already penetrated security here, will a possible highlight of security flaws attract them as a contact?  Or scare them into wanting to take you out in case someone DOES listen to you and fixes things (and thus makes their life more dangerous)?  And, second, it's kind of a luck-of-the-draw thing as to whether you attract the attention of the spy, or attract the attention of a double-agent who's hunting potential spies."

He thought for a moment more, and added, "If you can figure out how to take care of the first one, I'm sold...no matter what route we take, the only way to avoid the second is to share news on the operation, which kind of defeats the purpose.  And not to steal your thunder, because you ARE a good option for this, but what about Shard?  She doesn't have to present any information that might seem like a threat to the spy, she just needs to sound disgusted with the way things are going...and let it be known that she's got some Force training."

Did I REALLY just say that? he asked himself.  He hadn't even heard of Jedi for most of his childhood, and from the time it had first been mentioned to him until his first mission with Shard, when they'd retrieved Tfalta Dawl, all references to Jedi or The Force had been made with utter skepticism.  But his own eyes had seen stuff happen that he couldn't just blindly wave aside as exceptional luck.

"A could-be Jedi, fed up with the Alliance?  Even if the spy isn't Imperial, that's some pretty hefty bait to be ignored..."

Juragga fell in to check out the returning ship, but paused to listen to Haarmon's plan.  He nodded, but then woofed in protest when Haarmon suggested that even he would side against the kid.  "GuuuhhHHRRRNNN!" he protested. Where you go, I go, was the message.  Perhaps they could BOTH pretend to defect.  He wasn't going to let Dak run off unsupervised, that was for sure.

But when Rhijans suggested Shard, Juragga wasn't sure he liked that much better.  Oh, he had faith in the Jedi's abilities, and trusted Shard implicitly.  But she was a rare gem... something almost sacred, in his mind.  While he didn't owe her as extensive an honor-debt as he did Dak - the kid had saved him from slavery, after all - the thought of something happening to the weary Jedi was troubling.  "GhhHRRRRnnn?" he chuffed.  Maybe he should back her up, if that was the case?  It just seemed less... believable... unless, of course, their was liquor involved.  Mmmm... maybe THAT was the ticket...

The trio of target shooters leave the range and head back to the hangar.

The freighter sits just inside the entrance, leaving barely enough clearance to drop the blast doors in an emergency.  The ship is a mess.  Smoke still seeps from buckled plates and there is a sizeable hole in the hull.  Techs are swarming over the craft, using fire suppression gear to spray anything that looks like it might even be thinking of bursting into flames.

The pilot, a familiar face around the base, though none of the team have worked with him, is screaming instructions at the tech crews, and there is a sudden loud "crack" and sparks shower from the hull breach.  "Damn it!  There go the damper coils!  I told you!"

Much of the hull bears signs of weapons fire.

Kourene's aide, Collas, is trying to calm the pilot down and get some information out of him, and suddenly he turns and yells at her, "No, we never completed the mission!  They were waiting for us.  Knew we were coming, and jumped us when we got there!  Now, if you don't mind, I have to go the infirmary to see how my partner's doing."  And he starts to walk away, leaving Collas standing alone...

Rhijans' jaw clenched.  Dammit...we've gotta do something about this.  NOW...  He was sick of being stuck in a reactive state...that put someone else behind the controls of the situation, and usually ended up with you dead or in a lot of trouble.

He debated with himself for just a moment, and then turned to Dak and Juragga, speaking quietly.  "Just how sure are you about wanting to do this thing, kid?" he asked Dak, urgently.  "Because if you're going to do it, this is the perfect time to start the act...we're in public, tensions are already high...it's a natural time for someone to break ranks.  But you damn well better be convincing.  I mean, this has gotta make that Imperial tech specialist routine look like you were just foolin' around, it's gotta be that good.  You up for it?"  His eyes searched Dak's face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt...any reason to tell him to scrub the operation before it got started.

You didn't need to be a professional super-spy to see Haarmon's eyes widen with fear. But it was fear laced with both excitement and resolve. As though, perhaps, it wasn't the idea of doing the thing that scared him, but rather the immensity making such a decision all on his own.

A lot of questions went through Haarmon's mind: did they think he could do it, wouldn't they rather Shard do it, what would be say, how would it play, what should he do? But all of it was silenced by the fact that Rhijans even asked him the question in the first place. He wasn't the type to mince words. If he was saying 'are you up for it?' then in his mind the decision was already made.

And the fear faded from Haarmon, replaced by the jumpy, anxious, almost giddy desire to get moving, get going, to get up and stand up and get it done.

"Yeah," he said, "Yeah. Let's do it. Just. There won't be time later. So make sure someone gets to the Colonal and tells him. I don't want anyone to, you know, think I need to be... dealt with. You know?"

Juragga chuffed a quick protest.  If Haarmon was going, he intended to go with him.

Rhijans gave a quick shake of his head at Haarmon's request, and shot a look at Juragga when the Wookiee made some kind of sound that he could only guess was disagreement.  With what, exactly, he didn't know, he was barely getting to the point where he could sort of put a context to some of the more common sounds the Wookiee made--the finer nuances of them were still well beyond his grasp.

"We can't let anyone in on this until it's wrapped, or we compromise the effectiveness.  I'll tell the Colonel that we'll keep you in hand...and if necessary, I'll take care of you myself...but we can't let him in on it.  The spy could be someone on his staff, if we tell him we run the risk of the spy finding out and then you'll REALLY be in danger.  But I'll do my damnedest to make sure nothing happens to you."  He figured it wouldn't look too out of place if he ended up shadowing the kid around the base...and if anyone approached Haarmon, an occasional confrontation between the two would give Dak a chance to pass word along without blowing his cover.

"Just make sure your argument is about being frustrated with the Rebellion, and not about patching security here...we want the spy to feel safe approaching you, not feeling like you're a potential liability."

For a moment it looks as though Collas will go after the piot, but then she is distracted as something inside the ship makes a loud crashing sound, and more smoke starts pouring from from the battered and broken hull.

Instead she settles for yelling at the techs, "Get that under control!" before stalking away, her face a grim mask of determination.

As she passes Rhijans, Juragga and Haarmon she snaps, without even looking in their direction, "If you three don't have anything to do, you could always try helping them."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:21, Wed 11 Sept 2013.

She apparently hasn't read the file about me, especially the Alrikr mission, Rhijans mused, a tight-lipped smirk flickering to his face.  Anyone who'd read that file would not likely suggest Rhijans to help extinguish a fire or do damage control.  His personnel file likely suggested that he was antithetical to those tasks.

He half-turned toward the ship, however...but looked at Haarmon.  If they were gonna run this thing, it was wheels-up time.  If they weren't...well, there were options, he wasn't too worried.

But it was all up to the kid...

Haarmon felt that specific mixture of edgy excitement and fear that he felt back at the mine. His bowels felt watery and loose. His head was buzzing with a pressure that wasn't quote a headache. His mouth was dry. His eyes were dry. His throat was dry.  And my armpits are soaked, what's that all about?

He was too off-kilter to even smile at his own cleverness.

Instead he took a breath and tried to summon any anger inside of him. Truth be told, it wasn't very hard. As small and as young and as useless as he often felt, as ignored and as dismissed and as patronized, he was always at least a little angry. And watching rebels get tagged again and again because some dimwit hose-beast didn't know what side was the right side (and watching the misery it caused his team-mates) had sink something deep and festering inside of him already.

All he had to do was pull it up from his belly and put it in his mouth.

"Help them? Help them?" he wasn't yelling, but he was projecting, his voice was edgy, but perfectly audible to anyone near him, "You want us to help them? Where was the help when they were out there following your orders? Huh? Answer me that!"

He took a peek to see if he had an audience, but only a peek. This tirade was, at least in theory, for Collas alone. He took a step toward her. And then another. Allowed his voice to rise another level. Or two.

"Maybe you should be the one helping! Huh? Maybe you should be the one out there in the void, hanging on nothing but hope and trust! And then this! All this! And this aint't the first time! Or the second! I thought it was gonna be different here. But it's the same old nerf race. You got the fat cats all safe and cozy up behind their desks while the people who get things done go out on your say so and get fragged."

Another step toward her. And now he allowed himself to aim some of his ire at whoever was watching.

"And I'm sick of it. Why do we do this if it's the same old-old. Here comes the new boss, same as the old boss. Am I right? Am I right? To the void with this! With all of it!"

And he slammed his datapad down onto the ground to illustrate just how done he was.

"Done!"

Pause for effect...

Rhijans' shocked look was completely unfeigned.  He'd been utterly uncertain what Dak would do to start the ball rolling on this...but going after the ranking officer in the room was the last thing he'd expected.

And it was good and venomous, too...part of Rhijans wanted to step up and proclaim, "HELL YEAH!!!!" to the tirade, but that would lose the effect.  Stay on task... he reminded himself.  Dak's outburst would look even stronger if it was in total contrast to his teammates.

When Dak took his third step forward, Rhijans thought, for a sickened moment, that the kid might actually physically go after Collas, and stepped forward, putting an arm up to put his hand on Dak's shoulder just after the datapad hit the ground.

I hope I haven't just created a monster... he thought.  The anger sure sounded real to him...

Here we go, Haarmon thought, when Rhijans put hands on him, and had a single moment of utter disbelief at what he was about to do. A piece of him thought it might be too much, too fast, too far, and might tip the trick. But as he did it, it felt natural. If this was what I was doing, for real, then this is what I would do.

"Stay out of this!" he screamed at Rhijans, letting the anger fill him and his voice turned ragged around edges. "I'm no kid! You hear that! No kid! I dig the same trenches you do! And I'm sick of being treated like preschool!"

And he reached out both hands and, with all his weight behind it, pushed the invincible-tech-ninja-badass-superspy as hard and as suddenly as he could.

He hoped someone(s) would hold Rhijans back afterward. He didn't want to die here. But if anything would be more convincing that this was serious business, he couldn't think of it.

For just a moment, as Dak came at him, there was a glint of something in Rhijans' eye...those who didn't know him well might have read it as anger, or rising to a challenge.

Dak wasn't an experienced brawler, though, and he telegraphed his intention with the big wind-up...Rhijans moved with the push, not trying to resist it, focusing on keeping his legs underneath him and moving until he ran out of momentum.

He ran out of floor, first, and came up hard against the wall of the hangar cavern, with an audible thud.  His head smacked hard against the stone, and pain flared his vision with red for a moment.

The look returned, unplanned, and he could only hope in retrospect that nobody had a chance to notice it.  Dangerous approval...Damn, this kid really IS good at this, he told himself.

But they couldn't escalate it too far.  That would get base security involved, and that could sour the whole thing.  They needed a plausible way to extricate from the moment, get some distance...give the rumor mill time to get word to the spy, if that person wasn't already in the hangar and seeing the events personally.

"Juragga," he said, coldly, holding the back of his head.  He checked his hand...he was fairly certain he wasn't actually bleeding, but it still hurt enough up there that blood could be trickling down his head and he wouldn't feel it.  No blood...good...

"You better take your buddy somewhere and let him cool down, before I decide to show him the color of his own innards."  He checked his hand again, this time leaving it hovering near the holstered blaster at his side.

With a powerful roar, Juragga interposed himself between Dak and Rhijans, hooting in fury and baring fangs as Rhijans' hand dipped near his gun.  Then, over his shoulder, he gobbled something along the lines of "Calm down," to Dak, still (apparently) hoping to preserve the peace.  But his presence near the kid was unmistakeably defensive.  Wrong or right, Dak held his honor-debt... and that was something a Wookiee would die for.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:32, Sat 14 Sept 2013.

Collas doesn't look even slightly phased by Haarmon's outburst.  She turns to watch as the situation devolves into a mostly one-sided brawl in the middle of the hangar.  Everybody else in the place too.  It seems that if Haarmon was looking for a large audience, he couldn't have picked a better place to get one.

Even the angry pilot stops to watch.

Juragga manages to break it up easily enough, of course.  There looks to be some disappointment at that.  Wookiees in a brawl make for good entertainment.

Collas shakes her head.  "Go back to your quarters and calm down." she orders Haarmon, "Once you're in control of yourself, report to my office."

Shard's tired.

It's a good tired, though, for a change.  An hour spent running through some serious isometrics...well, serious might be a stretch, as her body simply can't handle what it used to, but exercise either way.  An attempt at meditation that failed, miserably, but a try nonetheless.  And five minutes of going through her old combat training in her head.  She should have done more, but for starter's she's lacking an actual training partner.

Plus, igniting and waving around the murder-stick is a good way to attract the kind of attention she doesn't want.

As she moves back through the base, on the way to her quarters to clean up, she catches the distant howl of strikefighters, accompanied by the basso thrum of a transport.  It sounds off, somehow.  Frowning, the rebel heads toward the hanger.  More bad news?

Then it goes from bad to worse as she walks in just in time to see Rhijans picking himself up and Juragga inserting himself between Haarmon and the bounty-hunter.  "Ooooo, void," the woman mutters, brushing her sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead.

Just for a second, for a half-a-second, Haarmon thought maybe he'd gone too far. He saw Rhijans' hand go to his blaster and then the mighty shadow of Juragga came between them and he heard the Wookie roar out his disapproval. And he didn't even want to think about a fight between the two of them. And the anger he was projecting boiled and roiled in his belly and all he could hope was that everyone was still just playing along.

But whether or no, he saw the opening that Rhjans and Juragga gave him, hopefully on purpose, and it was a good one.

So he took it.

He blinked a couple of times, took a breath. Stepped away. And another step.

"Calm down," he said, sort of toward Collas, voice a little hoarse from the yelling, "Yeah. That's aces. Calm down."

And another step back. He kept his gaze on the ground, mostly to look like he was ashamed of himself.

"I'll go. And calm down. But I don't think I'll be reporting to anyone's office. Not now. Maybe not ever."

He started walking down the corridor toward his quarters. Stopped. Looked back.

"You comin', Rags? Or you stayin' with the whitecoats?"

Whichever way Juragga chose had its advantages. And it was all for show anyway. But secretly, he was hoping the Wookie would come with him. Jokes about preschool aside, he was feeling a little unhinged, and didn't want to be alone.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Mon 23 Sept 2013.

Juragga watched Haarmon walk away with a tilted head and a sad, almost puzzled expression.  But when the kid asked if he was coming, he hooted back belligerantly, "Of course I'm coming!" as if there had never been any doubt.

The wookiee ambled after the slicer.

Collas watches as Haarmon and Juragga walk away from the confrontation with Rhijans.  She looks at the latter, shakes her head  and simply says, "You too." and starts to walk of, slowly.

After about three or four paces, she stops and gives Rhijans a curious look before adding, "Go to the infirmary first and get checked over, you hit that wall pretty hard."

Haarmon, meanwhile exits the hangar, heading for his quarters, with most, if not all, eyes watching him, and Juragga in tow.  Whether he realises that Shard witnessed the whole thing, and is unaware of the plan, is not clear.

Rhijans glared at Collas for a moment...the moment demanded some kind of show of defiance, and he felt like Dak had shouldered his fair share.  Disgruntled Alliance operative, waiting to be enticed into a compromising situation...the only thing that could have made it more perfect would have been if Juragga had walked away, as well, leaving Dak isolated.

And even in that, it still turned out well...Dak, alone, would have looked too appealing, suspiciously so.

"I'm fine..." he growled in response to the order to get checked over.  Yes, he'd hit the wall hard...but he'd taken worse and walked away.  And even if he hadn't, it would be unlike him to so easily be directed after a confrontation such as this...though he was likely the only one present to know himself that well.

Still...best to play it true to form, rather than try to play out what would make the most appealing outcome for whoever their spy was.

Without waiting to hear whether Collas wanted to argue with him about the infirmary visit, he turned and left, in another direction.  He managed to camoflage his satisfaction with a feral grimace.  The predatory expression was natural...he was hunting now, and Dak had just set himself up as bait, on the move.  Give the kid about four or five hours, then start shadowing him, and see who starts paying too much attention to him...

He preferred going after someone who was clearly known as being a problem, rather than having to flush the problem out...but it had been a long time since he'd had a hunt.  Having to set the wheels in motion to find out who his target was?  It was just a little extra prep work, this time...

Shard glances after Haarmon and Juragga, her jaw set.  In the end, things have come to naught, but that doesn't mean it's over.  Should she follow Haarmon, or Rhijans?  In the end, it comes down to numbers, plain and simple.  Haarmon has Juragga with him; Rhijans is alone.  Picking up her feet, the still-sweaty woman hurries after the dusky-skinned man.

"Rhijans!  Hang on!"  Jogging is taking it out of her after the recent exercise.  Hopefully she can get some kind of explanation about what just happened, and not the customary stony silence.

Curse it all, I'd just gotten on a team I'd liked, to boot...

The shakes hit about two minutes after Haarmon started walking away. The adrenaline faded and he hit the wall, hard. Just like on the moon. Or in the mine. Heck, just like Senior School. More things change... he thought miserably.

"Nerve of that nerf-lover," he said, not at all displeased with how much his voice was shaking, "Thinking he's got all the answers. To the Void with him, and the rest of them too. You hear what I'm sayin' Rags?"

A pause.

"And you see Shard there? Huh? At the end?" A slightly different tremble hit his voice at the thought. "Just watched. Probably thinks I'm a grade-A chump now. And no one to tell her different." That last was probably more truth than con.

He looked up at Juragga. The Wookie's large, lumbering shape was reassuring.

"Glad you came, though. Woulda been a long, hard dramatic flounce all by my lone. You know what I'm sayin?"

That was truth too.

Well, this will take care of finding Shard to explain what's going on...  He was pretty sure she wasn't going to be pleased, especially if he mentioned that his initial idea was to have her play the bait, but there'd been no time to track her down and sell the idea.

He paused, waiting for her to catch up without turning to look back at her.  As she got close enough to hear, he asked in a low voice, "Is there anyone walking after Dak?"  His tone was wary, concerned...and utterly devoid of the hostility one would expect after such a confrontation.

His plan...if anything happened to Dak for being a part of it, he would never forgive himself.

The response brings her up short.  Whoop.  Something's up.  Shard fires a glance over her shoulder - not an unexpected thing, if anyone could be watching, and from the question and Rhijans' tone, that might be the case.  "Didn't see anyone," she mutters, turning back and spreading her palms wide in a 'what the void gives?' posture.

"You mind telling me just what's going on?" she continues, still reasonably quietly, her body language just a touch at-odds with her calm tone.  Forced calm; she's still stressed, but with something going on, it doesn't make sense to pressure Rhijans.

Plus, there's always the possibility that what she saw was real, in which case...it still doesn't make sense to pressure Rhijans.

Following after Dak, Juragga saw the kid was still deep into 'the part'.  Without knowing exactly who or what was listening in, that was probably smart.  Juragga was savvy enough to play along.

"RRRROooooWWWRRrrrrhhhH," he commented mildly, easily keeping pace with the frenetic Dak.  Of course he'd come along.  Didn't Dak know that by now? And as for the others, who cared what they thought?  This entire thing was turning into a bad deal.

"GrrrRRRRuuuuhHHHHnNN," he added.  He'd only joined in to try to find and free his family, and any other Wookiees he could.  So far?  He'd found exactly ZERO.

"AWWWWwwwwhhhhhrr," he amended.  That wasn't exactly true.  He'd also joined because Dak had, and he owed the kid a Wookiee honor-debt. He hadn't forgotten. He never would.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:19, Mon 23 Sept 2013.

"C'mon...can't talk about it here," Rhijans said in a low mutter.  His lips barely moved as he spoke...a deliberate choice, just in case...

He began walking, waiting a few paces to make sure Shard was coming along before he began to explain.  "We realized that we could spend forever and a day chasing after every individual around here who had some kind of suspicious look or incident or behavior pattern...many of us here have been under suspicion for so long that it's inherent in us to look suspicious to someone who's looking for that.

So I came up with the idea of baiting our spy...give them a disgruntled Alliance operative, someone they could hit up for information or try to persuade to help them.  My original notion was to use you...but there was no time, and Dak had a notion that he could make himself an attractive target for such approaches."

By this time, they were clear of the hangar area, and Rhijans turned more to face Shard as he explained the situation to her.  "He's put himself out there...the frustrated kid who doesn't get enough respect from command or even from his own team.  If this spy is as good as they seem to be, details about stuff he's done in the last couple of operations will show he's resourceful and inventive...probably under-utilized and definitely under-appreciated, generally speaking.  Someone wanting to dismantle our operations here would see him as really tempting fruit, waiting to be picked."

He sighed...and a hint of the concern that he had carefully been masking shone through for just a moment.  "We just have to make sure that whoever picks him doesn't get a chance to squeeze him dry.  So, we watch, carefully, from a distance...or, at least, I watch, because now my eyes on him will look like me waiting for a chance to get even.  You become the wild-card, at this point...nobody's quite sure what to make of you, but if you're seen appearing too concerned for too long, nobody's going to buy that he's really turned against us.  If you're too callous too soon, it'll become suspicious.  You've got to figure out how to look like you're trying to get him to come back without compromising what he's already done."  His voice stayed low and terse, and if anyone approached too nearly, he stopped talking until they were out of earshot again.

"We can't let the Colonel know about this...for all we know, the spy is part of his personal staff and any word will blow the whole operation.  If anyone approaches us about it, all we can do is tell them that we'll handle it...and sound like that means that we'll step in and eliminate him if he turns against the Alliance.  Otherwise, if Kourene gets nervous about him, our watching him may be for nothing."

"All right," Shard replies, shaking her head.  It helps clear away some of the cobwebs of amazement, as well as possibly presenting the proper picture to people's perceptions.  Pacing after Rhijans, she ponders his plans.

The picture he paints positively petrifies*.

"I should probably say something witty and grumpy about you wanting to use me for this situation, but I'm too busy trying to stuff my heart back into my chest."  Her lips thin.  "Haarmon showed some good material back at that base, though.  Chips are down, he has come through every time.  And it suits him." Her face scrunches up as if Shard has bitten into a lemon.  Or perhaps a hot pepper.  "Cursed balancing act is what it is, from what you're saying, and you're right.  I'll have to go talk to HIM next, I guess."  This said with a wave of both arms, one hand almost clouting Rhijans in the head.

It's only partly an act.

"Hopefully the colonel won't do something...precipitous**.  Like break up the team."  Her fist clenches.  "Hot void, if I hadn't gone and gotten all steamed, we could have all chatted about this together.  But just to be in on it.  It's a good plan, Rhijans.  A good one, if a little risky."  She purses her lips in a thoughtful moue.  "Knew there was a reason I was glad to be on this team."

* Okay, finished.

** No, seriously.  Don't worry.  :)

Haarmon gave his friend a relieved look. He figured that, if anyone was watching, relieved would be a reasonable thing for him to be feeling. He did feel alone, though. He wished he had Rhijans nearby to help him through how to act and what to say and what to do now. Having Juragga was wonderful, but the big Wookie wasn't exactly your A-one go-to-guy when it comes to subtle manipulations and deceptions. His answer was pretty much always 'rip someone's arm off and quaff a brew.'

Which sounded like a pretty sweet idea right about now.

"So what do we do now, huh? Rags?" His voice was still pretty ragged from yelling, and it sounded pretty good to him, "Can't go back there. Pack of Void-cursed bastards. not one of them got the sense to come in out of a meteor shower. Maybe it's time we cast off?"

Haarmon and Juragga continue through the corridors of the base, and realise that the place seems oddly empty now.  The few people they see are heading towards the hangar, most of them hurrying.  The ones who aren't hurrying towards the hangar mainly seem to be busy with their own tasks.

Nobody seems to be standing about doing nothing, or acting suspicious.

Shard and Rhijans are discovering the same thing on their own travels through the base.  A lot of activity which could probably be described as a sort of "controlled panic".

"Coming through!"  Footsteps run up behind the slicer and his Wookiee, companion, and they turn just in time to see a pair of medics go past with an injured woman on a repulsorlift pallet, pulled in to do service as a makeshift gurney.  Headed towards the infirmary.  There seems to be a lot of blood, and the woman looks badly burned.

Crossing one of the wider corridors, intended to provide external cargo access to the hanger, Shard and Rhijans find that their discussion is drowned out by the grating of metal from a little way down the tunnel.  The blast doors, normally left sting open to allow easy passage to and from the base, are being closed, and are noisilly objecting to the process...

Juragga chuffs uncertainly in reply to Haarmon, but then steps aside to make way for the injured woman.  He watched her go with sad teal eyes, then turned back to his friend.

"RrRRRRRrrrfffmmmmfff," he warbled.  He didn't like to quit things, but he wasn't stupid.  If this wasn't working, if they were just being used as cannon fodder against a hopeless cause...

Rhijans' face twitched.  "Well, I'd say that's a bad sign," he growled in a low voice.  He searched the hurrying bodies for someone who seemed to perhaps be in charge, settling on someone who appeared to have just concluded some kind of commlink call as they glanced at a datapad.

"What's going on?" he asked.  It was almost a demand...but toned down enough to show some degree of consideration for the person he'd just side-tracked from whatever they were doing.

Void.

Shard's hands slide over her over-cloak, checking and testing.  She has - thank goodness - divested herself of all of the paraphenalia she wore in her time as 'Nimadda', but the quick search indicates that, yes, out of habit she hung the murder-stick from its usual loop.  Her pistol?  No, not when exercising.

"Either something bad happened elsewhere and the fallout is just arriving," she mutters as Rhijans questions a passerby, "or the bad is coming here.  Now." Up comes her comlink, set to her group's channel.  "Jalt.  You around?"  It's always possible he's still on the base, and still has his comm with him.  Active.

It's a cursed shame her mentor-in-killing never saw fit to teach her anything about grabbing visions from the future, because that would have come in really handy right about now.

"There's a ship... " the man indicates the closing blast door, "... down in the hangar.  It got shot up by Imperials, but made it home with a load of medical supplies and blaster cells and explosives.  They got it into the hangar before the drive died, and then they found out that something is burning inside it.  They're trying to get it unloaded before the fire reaches the cargo hold.  If they don't then this base will just be a crater."

"We don't even have any ships home for an evacuation."


Meanwhile, elsewhere in the base, Haarmon and Juragga finally reach the slicer's quarters.  They step inside and continue their discussion.  Or they try to - they're barely in there for a minute before somebody pounds on the door.  Hard...

Juragga responds with a snarl through the door that is a mix of "What do you want" and "Go away".

There was no good translation for the expletive Rhijans muttered, but the sound of it left little doubt.  Would have been nice for someone to mention there was a fire to be put out, instead of just saying, 'Hey, go help them...' he grumbled to himself.  He shot a glance back toward the hangar, to see if the doors were still open enough for him to get back in there.

If his life was going to be hanging by a tenuous thread, dependent on efforts to extinguish a fire, he wanted at least some of those efforts to be his own.

Haarmon starts at the sudden pounding. And maybe he made a scared little squeak at the same time. Maybe. It was hard to tell with all the knocking. Surely not, though, surely tough Alliance undercover agents didn't squeal like little Kowakian monkey lizards when someone just knocked on the door.

But he did sort of jerk up in his chair. Perfectly natural reaction, after all. Not that he was startled. No. He was just ready for action. Yeah. totally ready.

He smirked at Juragga and gave him the thumbs up. He was constantly amazed at how many different shades of meaning the big guy could cram into a single warble. Maybe he should be the undercover agent.

"You heard the Wookie," he called out, not at all kindly, "We're not receiving any guests at the moment. Tea trolly's all put away. Drawing room's closed up. Go sell crazy some place else. We're all stocked up here."

Shard's thin eyebrows ratchet higher and higher.  "Seriously?" she finally chokes out, almost comically.  The woman struggles against an irrational desire to beat herself over the head with the short stick of metal she carries beneath her cloak, and a simultaneous - and less irrational - craving to pound back a few ounces of Zidran Ice Brandy.

Fortunately rationality wins the former, and she no longer carries what she requires for the latter.

"Hot void," the older woman hisses.  "We've got to get in there...or do something to help, because I'm not going to sit here waiting to die," she snaps, eyeing the closing door.  Making a decision, Shard breaks into a run for the portal.  "Gotta make it through now!"

If it should close, the killing tool she carries could cut through it...eventually.  "But that would leave a cursed big hole in the blast door," Shard mutters.  Any explosion inside would turn the door into a cannon, with the blast channelled straight out the hole.  Unacceptable.

The voice that comes back through the door is male, and a bit muffled by the sturdy panel, "Hey, sorry to bother you.  I heard you know about computers.  I need a bit of help with one that's been giving me problems.  If I don't get it fixed then I'm going to be in serious trouble.  Can you at least take a quick look at it, tell me what might be wrong, and then I'll leave you alone."

The blast door has stopped closing, with a gap which is somewhat less than a metre wide, to allow a few more firefighters through.  There are people lined up to get through the narrow opening, and a tech is standing nearby with an access panel open and his hand inside, apparently keeping the door from closing any further.

Of course, being a tech, and not terminally stupid, he's made sure that when he releases the door to finish closing, he will be on the safe side of it...

As soon as Rhijans noticed the door stopped, he took off running toward it.  It was at about the same time Shard started running in the same direction.  Another person might have been tempted to try and reason with her, convince her to stay on this side of the doors, in some degree of relative safety...

But there was no safety, not really.  If that ship blew, with all the additional explosives and power-packs aboard, it would likely take out every other ship still in the hangar...and all of the fuel and munitions stockpiled to keep them operating.  Blast doors wouldn't stop that.  The mountain itself probably wouldn't stop that.

If it did, there would be no communications gear left.  There would be no ships left, and likely very little food left.  The next ship to visit the planet would most likely be Imperial, to investigate the blast--assuming it wasn't engineered by an Imperial agent.  Anyone who managed to survive the blast, and stay alive with very little shelter or food available, would end up in an Imperial cell.

All of that flashed through his head, quickly, as they ran.  Really, there was no good reason for anyone to be anywhere other than in the hangar, fighting the fire.  Certainly no good reason to be hoping the blast doors would hold.  "Move!  Get out of the way!" he yelled as they approached the door.

Haarmon cocks a wary eye at Juragga. The look was equal parts confusion and query. Is this guy for real? It said. And you think this is it? There was no way this guy showed up just up looking for the IT department right now. And no way he persists after Juragga gave him the patented Wookie go-away.

So. Either he was a total laser-brain. Or he was the guy. And the answer was the same either way.

"Sorry, pal," he called out, not at all kindly, "We're outsourcing all that shit to Rigel 4 now. Take your misery and jump system. We've got all we need."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:10, Tue 08 Oct 2013.

Apparently she and Rhijans both are joining the ranks of the terminally stupid.  Shard shakes her head as she sprints, persperation already beginning thanks to her earlier workout.  At least she's limbered up for this.

There's a lineup; Rhijans seems intent on jumping to the head of the queue, and she follows his lead, running in his wake.  Shard isn't certain what good she'll do on the other side, not being a trained firefighter, but any assistance is better than nothing.  Plus, there's always the possibility she might have skills that others don't possess, and an all-purpose key to assist in getting through any barriers.

This...isn't going to be good, is it?

Well, at least she has tried to put things back together in her life.  And, the older woman decides, it's a cursed sight better dying trying to save lives than taking them.  Two fools, she silently considers, keeping focused on following Rhijans.  Course, it'll make for good company if the whole place goes.

Void, I hope Haarmon and Juragga make it through.

Rhijans and Shard make their way into the hangar, where the first thing they see is what looks a lot like organised chaos.

But at least it does seem organised.

Human crew and techs are busy moving cargo containers away from the damaged ship, assisting injured colleagues, and directing droids into the interior of the ship to fight the fire.  One group of men and women, their clothing blackened by soot and smoke, with breath masks dangling around their necks are getting instructions from a senior officer.

Somebody spots Rhijans and Shard, and calls out to them, "You two...  If you know how to deal with a fire, grab a mask and an extinguisher,  Otherwise, help move the cargo, or tend the injured, if you can."

There is a sudden dull thump, and the smoke coming from the ship thickens.  A moment later, several droids come hurrying out of the burning vessel...

Whoever is outside Haarmon's door is quiet for a moment or three.  then the voice comes again.  Quieter.  "Listen.  I need to talk to you about what happened.  In the hangar.  I mean, I wasn't there, but I heard about it."

Juragga hooted through the door a low warble.  "Do they have beer?" he asked in Wookiee.

Haarmon's heart did a double-thump in his chest and started racing along like it was trying to win a pod race. He took a breath and tried to calm down. But words like Haarmon and calm usually didn't show up in the same room (heck, the same sector) so it was some pretty hard going.

Juragga's comment made him smile and utter a short laugh. He shook his head and gave the Wookie a smile as he walked over to the door.

He pulled it open. Just a little. "If you're here to summon me to whassername's room for my official chastising, forget it."

Rhijans lacked any real training in fighting fires...but that didn't stop him from grabbing a mask and a couple of extinguishers.  If he had to throw himself into the blaze to get himself in a position where he could do something about it, he would...wounded in a fire was still recoverable.  Atomized inside an artificial volcanic eruption was pretty final.

Without a word or much in the way of second thoughts, he moved into the ship, looking for the fire they needed help fighting.  That--fighting--was something he knew how to do...

Rhijans follows the first group into the ship.  She must still have power - lights are functioning, though with the thick smoke that fills the hull, the lamps seem to provide more shadow than illumination.

The colour of the smoke, in the places where cones of light shine through it, speaks of chemical fumes and burning plastics.  Just the thing to make the firefighters grateful for their masks.  In the gloom, Rhijans manages to stay right behind the man directly in front of him who, fortunately, seems to know where he's going.

In the bowels of the ship, a room filled with hulking dark shapes which loom out of the smoke and seem to dance and gyrate in the flickering light of the flames the team start using extinguishers on the fires.  The heat is intense, even by Mothessh's standards, and Rhijans soon finds himself sweating profusely...

Shard, meanwhile, is still considering where she could do the most good...

Through the open door, Barsh, the quartermaster's assistant grins at Haarmon and Juragga.  "I'm not here to summon you anywhere.  I'm just here to talk to you, just for a bit."

In his hands he holds a portable data terminal, clearly his excuse for coming here, and he looks up and down the corridor, before nodding towards the interior of the room, "So... are you going to let me in?"

"Close enough," Shard mutters, grabbing the provided equipment and hurrying after Rhijans and the other 'firefighters'.  Reaching the ship, she winces at the heat and pauses a moment.  There are a few things she can do to keep herself alive in this mess, possibly handling things a little longer than other people might.

It's the work of a moment - a moment might be too much here, but there are others already in the ship.  If she can set things up so she can function in there longer, that might help more than getting in quickly.

The woman concentrates, struggling to find that perfect balance between ice and fire within her spirit, then using that balance to assist her body in enduring the vicious heat.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:08, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

Haarmon frowned at the guy behind the door. He was trying to remember that the pretend Haarmon that he was pretending to be wasn't trying to make contact with an enemy spy, he was just mad as hell and not gonna take it any more. Or whatever.

So what would THAT Haarmon do? Say something really clever and go home and have a nap.

True enough. But not very constructive.

So he shrugged and walked away from the door like he didn't much care one way or the other. He gave Juragga a long, significant be ready look on his way back across the room.

He was really, really happy the Wookie was here.

He flopped down into the chair at his terminal and looked up at the guy.

You expected fighting a fire to be comfortable? Rhijans asked himself.  He didn't bother answering, he'd already known and resigned himself to his possible fate the moment he chose to run for the blast door.  He grit his teeth and pushed onward.  Even if they couldn't kill the fire, they could buy time to get the cargo cleared out and minimize the blast damage if anything too important caught fire.

He'd have to gauge just how aggressively he could keep pushing once they actually got to the fire itself...

Rhijans pushes himself forward, and between the smoke and the sweat poring down his face he can barely see.  Forced to slow down, he is soon overtaken by Shard, who looks surprisingly cool and comfortable.  The two step into a chamber where the light is brighter, not because there is less of the thick black smoke, but simply because of the intense flames dancing over the equipment.

"You two!" the figure is almost the same colour as the smoke, which is perhaps an indication of how long it's been in here, "Go around that side, see if you can work your way back across."  The voice might be female, but muffled as it is by the breathing apparatus and hoarse from yelling over the sound of the fire, it isn't really possible to tell with any certainty.

Then she(?) moves on, wih instructions for others...

Barsh steps into the room and closes the door behind him.  He looks up (and up, and up) at Juragga, nods at the Wookiee, and turns his attention to Haarmon as he sets the terminal down on a table.  "So, I hear you had a run in with Collas in the hangar?  In front of everybody.  Man, nobody stands up to her.  Even on her best days she's like a rancor in a bad mood.  What was it about?" he asks, eagerly...

Rhijans resisted the urge to try and wipe sweat away...it would only come pouring back out of his skin again, and might knock his filter mask ajar...and who knew what kind of fumes were coming off the fire.  Following the directions given, he moved off to one side, locating what he thought was a likely spot to douse some of the flames, and activated the extinguisher.

Floating in a balance between light and dark, Shard considers her problem.

She has, most certainly, caught up.  At present, the difficulty of 'heat' has been dealt with - she knows it's extreme from how Rhijans looks, but can't feel it herself.  The issue, however, is that to maintain her current resistence, she'll need to divide her concentration.  In this kind of situation, that will seriously degrade her effectiveness at dealing with the flames.

The older woman thins her lips, nodding slowly.  "Right," she whispers.  This...this is going to hurt.

It feels like stepping into a blast furnace.

Snarling an oath under her breath, she moves to assist Rhijans, keeping their efforts coordinated in an attempt to cover the most area.

Juragga frowned at the newcomer.  He warbled a mild protest that consisted basically of "No beer?" and a pout.

Sighing, he rose his titanic form from the couch and stretched, muscles like steel cables under his shaggy pelt, before ambling to the fridge to scrounge up some brew.  He acted as disinterested as possible, but of course, was trying to hear every word.

Rhijans and Shard push forward, directing their extinguishers anywhere that looks like a source of flames.  The extinguishers seem pretty efficient, and soon the pair have made themselves some space to advance.  The equipment around them is still hot, casings buckled by the heat, and the area is less than comfortable.  Next to Shard, flames suddenly burst out of the machinery as something collapses inside, and the area she had just cleared reignites.

An R2 droid rolls up behind Rhijans and starts prying one of the newly extinguished casings open.  Oily black smoke pours out of the equipment inside, but that doesn't stop the droid reaching into the interior to start working on it...

Barsh watches the Wookiee head for the fridge.  But his attention is divided between looking to see if there is anything to drink, and trying to coax the full story out of Haarmon. 

"Is it true you were fighting?  I'll tell you, you're probably better off out of there.  I heard there's a fire in one of the ships."

Haarmon's response is a non-committal grunt, but then he sits for a moment, and looks like he might be about to add to it...

Haarmon was no longer really sure that this guy was their guy. Maybe he was their guy, But maybe he was just nosy. Plenty of that going on at the best of times.

"Yeah we had a fight. More like I had a fight and she kind of stood there doing the mouth-breathing routine. What's it to you, anyway? You the It Girl round here or something?"

He watched Juragga out of the corner of his eye, grateful for the Wookie's display.

"Rags? You wanna get Mr. E-Talk Daily here a beer? Keeping up on your gossip is thirsty work. Am I right?"

Rhijans paused his advance, momentarily, to be certain that whatever the droid was doing wasn't interrupted by another burst of flames.  He figured the droid's errand must be somehow important...it wasn't like R2 units were rolling in on the heels of all the other firefighters and working on freshly-extinguished areas.  He spared a glance in Shard's direction, to make sure she was still clear of the flames, and to make sure they still had a path of retreat...not that he had any plans to use it, but if one of them went down, a clear path was the only way someone could get to them.  If they got cut off by flames coming back up behind them, there was pretty much only one way for that to end...

Shard doesn't even curse - it's too hot for that now, and she needs to spare her breath.  She shoots a glance at Rhijans, considering asking him to combine their efforts, then abandons that idea; in the past, she hasn't exactly shown aptitude for that sort of thing.  Regardless, she needs to get this fire out - now - so they can continue.

Sweat plasters her hair to her forehead as the heat jacks up higher, thanks to the reignited machinery.  Do your job, curse it!  Sipping her air, she directs her extinguisher and attempts to snuff the flames.

She grits her teeth.  They're not doing so well, here, and failure potentially means hundreds of deaths.

OOC - An awesome 9!  As a firefighter, I am terrible.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:04, Tue 22 Oct 2013.

Juragga returned to the front room with a pair of Kashyyk beers, one in each shaggy paw.  Without comment, he offered one to the newcomer.  Then he flopped into a huge air-cushion chair with a heavy FLOMPH.

Using his climbing claw, he popped the lid off the beer with a hiss.

Barsh accepts the bottle with thanks, and, as if to demonstrate that people who work in the Quartermaster's store have everything, he fishes an adjustable torque applicator out of his pocket and uses it to pop the cap.  Raising the now open bottle in salute to Juragga, he takes a long pull at it before grimacing.  "Wookiee brew, eh?  Got a lot of flavour to it." he comments, a little hoarsely.

Clearing his throat he turns to Haarmon.  "Look... I know it's not easy here.  We're at the wrong end of the Galaxy for R&R.  Apart from this... " he gestures with the beer bottle, "... the nearest alcohol must be a couple of parsecs away.  We've got no sabbac girls, and the only entertainment is going outside to blast tree stumps.  Equipment is scarce most of the time, and Collas is always riding everybody.  Something has to snap."

He pauses, seeming to appraise Haarmon before continuing, "I think we can work together to make life here a bit more comfortable for us both.  I can see to it that you get a share in the best stuff from the supply shipments.  Better equipment, a few more luxuries, that sort of thing."

In the inferno that used to be an engine room, Shard is making progress.  The fire in the nearest piece of equipment is out again, and this time it isn't coming back.  With the flames extinguished, the R2 unit hurries across to start work as soon as the former Jedi moves clear.

Rhijans seems to be having the worst of the luck this time.  The smoke and flames don't seem to be clearing as he applies the extinguisher...

Barsh looks expectantly at Haarmon, then at Juragga, and back to Haarmon.  "So... what do you think?  Do we have a deal?  You help me with what I want, and I help you get whatever you need, up to and including Hennarian brandy frome Kourene's own stock.  The smooth stuff."

The fire fighting is going reasonably well.  At least nothing has exploded yet, and Shard and Rhijans seem to be making steady (if slow) progress.  Every time they manage to extinguish the flames in one of the equipment cabinets the droid m9oves up behind them to make sure that everything is secure.

The R2 is almost black now, with soot from the fires, and Shard and Rhijans start to realise that they probably don't look that different...

"Outstanding," Shard croaks into her mask.  Her throat burns from the hot air; it's about all she can manage.  Sweat has long since ceased to be a problem, and she's probably suffering from dehydration.  But they're pulling this off, slowly but surely.

It's working.

She should laugh at the R2 Unit, laugh at Rhijans, laugh at herself, but the situation remains dire.  This fire has to be contained.  Her mentor probably could have shown her some more easy way to do it - draw the heat out of the area and disperse it elsewhere, or something along those lines - but Shard never got to that point with him, thanks to their vast differences in opinion (first) and a stray imperial blaster bolt (second).

But, she considers, </i>I can hold a fire extinguisher.  And use it.</i>

*pfft*

In her hands, the extinguisher puts forth only a puff of air.  Oh, for the love of...  Snarling under her breath, Shard frantically shakes the cylinder.

OOC - The dice hate me.  3d6+1 first gives me a 9, then a 7.

Rhijans kept his worries in check...some part of his mind observed, with dry irony, that these ships were designed to keep their occupants warm out in the ultimate cold of space...so they would do an excellent job of holding the heat from the fire inside.  He was seeing that first-hand.

But there was nothing to be done for it.  It was either put out the fire, or die...and while he was not necessarily afraid of dying, he was certainly in no hurry to try it out and see what might follow.  And he was definitely opposed to the idea of letting it happen to someone else--someone he felt responsible for, in some degree, when there was anything he could do about it.

So, he forced himself to continue, slowly, methodically, doing what he could to make sure each area was completely extinguished before he moved onward, trying to avoid having to back-track, keeping a path moving ahead for the R2 unit to come in and presumably shut stuff down to contain the vulnerabilities and reduce the risks for the ship--and, thus, the whole base.

But, damn, it was hot...

Juragga took a deep pull of the Wookiee beer - he hadn't bothered to tell Barsh it was home made; it's not like you could import the stuff - and then glanced at Haarmon as the man made his pitch.

To prompt his friend, he let out a low "UuuUUUUhhhRRR?" which basically translated to - "What's our end of the deal? What do YOU get?" - if Barsh understands Wookiee.

Barsh looks from Juragga to Haarmon, "What did he say?  Wait, never mind, I can guess.  He wants to know what I want you to do, right?"

He leans back in the chair and smiles, "I want you to do a little undercover work for me."

In the hold of the ship, Shard rattles the extinguisher and bangs it with her free hand.  Something gets knocked loose in the nozzle, and foam spurts out to drown out the fire.

Alongside her, Rhijans continues to work his way forward, slowly but surely.  Ahead of them they can see other figures moving.  More fire fighters working their way into the heart of the blaze.  Shockingly, they realise that there is now less of the room on fire than not.  One last effort, and the remaining fires are out, save for a few spots that are still burning.

At the centre of the room, at what had been the heart of the fire, there is a large piece of equipment, melted beyond recognition, and still popping and clicking as it starts to cool...

Another swig of the beer, and Barsh looks worried, "It's Kedra, see?  You know her, right?  I really like her, but I don't know much about her.  So I want you to find out if she likes me, and maybe you could put in a good word for me.  Like I said, if you're not happy here, I can make your life a bit more bearable."

Rhijans spared himself a moment to take a deep breath...for the first time since they'd charged into the blaze, he didn't feel like doing so was a risk for broiling his lungs inside his own body.  "What the blazes was this thing?  And do we need to worry that it might still explode on us?"

The fact that it appeared to be the heart...and thus, potentially the source...of the blaze left him suspicious.  And while he knew there was probably little logical reason for it, healthy doses of suspicion had kept him alive and intact in a lot of situations.  So he didn't feel inclined to fight those suspicious instincts at the moment.

"Gah!" Jumping a moment, Shard swallows curses and directs her extinguisher at the next hot-spot, spraying it liberally.  It's heartening to see that they've managed to deal with most of the issues, and she continues alongside Rhijans, putting out a few more stray flames with the sputtering extinguisher.  But her eyes narrow when the last bit comes in sight, along with more people; the latter is a positive sign, but that machine could undo all of their work.

"Good question.  And yes, to the second. If it explodes," she rasps through a hoarse throat, "we're back to the whole place going up.  It's already wrecked; I figure it might be a good idea to cool it down a little quicker."  That said, she directs the final few gasps her extinguisher holds toward the machine.

*glug, blurp*

"Accursed device," Shard mutters.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:35, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

"Probably a power distribution node."  The voice might be the same one that gave Shard and Rhijans instructions when they first came to fight the fire, but a little hoarser.  "Hard to be sure without getting confirmation from the pilot or engineer, it's pretty badly melted.  Something probably blew when they were taking fire on the mission.  Maybe caused an overload here."

The R2 pulls an access panel open, and dense smoke pours out, stinking of burning insulation and plastic and overheated metal.  No more flames though.

"Good job, you two.  I'll make sure Kourene hears about it.  Go and get yourselves cleaned up."

"Outstanding," Shard croaks out, leaning against a bulkhead then hopping away from it with a curse, rubbing her burned shoulder.  "Glad to assist."  She means it.  But right now, she also means to find a shower.  "C'mon, Rhijans.  Time to collapse."

Limping slightly, she turns and heads toward the exit, checking to see if the bounty hunter is following.  "Didn't look like sabotage," she mutters to him.  "Doesn't mean it wasn't, mind."

Haarmon let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He fought down the urge to laugh. He wanted to laugh at this guy, and at his own totally idiotic belief that he struck the jackpot that fast. But at the same, time, he felt for the guy.

"Seriously? Are you kidding me? You want advice on how to handle a female and you come talk to me? Me? That, all by itself, is a bigger cry for help than any of this creeper-stalker business. I think you're better off talking to Rags, here. He's got a way with the ladies. but to do it his way you gotta love em au naturel, you know what I'm saying?"

He paused. Shook his head.

"Look, man. Only advice I got is go talk to her. I hear anything worth hearing, I'll pass it along. But I'm not into the baby-school stuff. I got enough problems."

He looked up. "You with me on this one, Rags? You want to take the deal? If you want, just say it. I'll back your play."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Thu 07 Nov 2013.

Rhijans nodded.  His clothes showed, more than his skin, the effects of the fire-fighting...the sooty residue blended with his natural coloring, making him look a little darker gray than usual, but his clothing was close to the same tone.

"The timing on it is a little suspicious...and if I was looking for an innocuous place to create a crisis, overloading part of the power system on a ship full of fuel and arms would be a great place to start.  I don't know enough about what to look for to tell if it was an accident or if someone set it up, however...that's gonna have to fall to better-trained eyes."

His expression quirked unpleasantly, and he added, "Let's just hope those eyes don't have a vested interest in feeding us all inaccurate information."

Juragga had to laugh, slapping his furry knee. "RAHRrahrrahr," he guffawed, then leaned back in his padded chair.

Holding up a finger as if to pontificate, he waxed philosophical for a moment.  "RggNNNNaaaaaaaahhr," he commented.  "GhhhhRn!"  It's all about the hair.  Chicks dig the hair, was a loose translation.

He nodded assent, though, at Haarmon's query.  Sure, they could help the guy.  Why not.

With the fire under control, the blast doors are opening in the corridor.  Access from the hangar to the base itself is being restored.  There are a lot of relieved faces around. and quite a few that look to exhausted to be relieved.  One man is walking around the ship, studying the hull carefully.  His left arm is strapped across his body, the sleeve of his jacket hangs empty.

A droid is following him about, whistling and chirping as he gives it long strings of technical specs...

Barsh looks stunned, "What?  You won't help?  Can you at least try to find out what she's interested in?  See, it's not as easy as just talking to her myself.  I talk to her every time she comes into the stores.  But that's different.  It's work."

He struggles for words for a moment, then says, "Look, we're both from Ral-Exun, and there are... rules.  We aren't from the same raft, so that means I can talk to her about anything except... you know... romance.  If I want to talk about that I have to either get somebody else to approach her first on my behalf, or give her a gift.  But I can't get anybody to talk to her for me, and I don't know what she likes."

Haarmon sighed and shook his head in a resigned fashion. "Personally, I think you're crazy. And I know a thing or two about crazy. But Juragga says he wants to help. And I don't never cross Rags when it comes to romance. So we'll pass her a note in study hall and see what we can do."

He paused. "So. A gift or an intermediary? Why don't you just get someone to introduce you? Heck. We'll, do it if that's all it takes. Or do they have to be High Master Raftsmen or something?"

"And who says you need to give her something she likes? The gift is just an excuse to talk, no? I mean, how can you even take the rules seriously off-planet?"

"I have to take the rules seriously.  It's the way good people do things on Ral-Exun." Barsh explains.  Then he seems to suddenly remember the beer, and takes another swig from it.

"If she believes in the rules, and I don't follow them, then I won't stand a chance.  If she doesn't believe in the rules, and I don't follow them, then it's like I'm saying that I know she isn't a good girl, and I still won't stand a chance."

"But... " he waves a finger to emphasise his point, "But if I follow the rules, then it doesn't matter bantha poodoo whether she believes in them or not... I'm showing that I believe she's a good girl.  Which I do.  Which means I need some help.  See?"

In the hangar, the injured man breaks off from his damage assessment, and struggles to roll a flight of access stairs across to the ship, one handed.  "Arthree... I'm going to try and take a look at the top of the hull."

Rhijans peeled away from Shard and crossed to the man with a few quick steps, helping guide the steps into position.  "Follow up checks are good...make sure we didn't get the fire put out inside just in time to have some new hazard pop up after everyone's left the area..."

Yes, he was tired, and wanted to clean up...but his natural sense of caution over-ruled all of that.

Shaking his shaggy head at the star-crossed, convoluted mating rituals of these hairless monkeys, Juragga took a hefty swig of beer and belched before replying, "GRAAAAAAHHHhuuuuuuhhhhr."  I'll do it.  I'll talk to her for you.

"WaaaAArrrghhh," he added.  After all, I made friends with her already.

He knew Haarmon could translate for him if Barsh didn't understand.  That, or he would have to dig out that faulty translator disc again...

Haarmon squints a bit at the guy's over-wrought ranting. Haarmon, being prone to over-complex ranting himself, sympathized. But still. "Or maybe she'll decide you're a hopeless social conservative who can't make decisions for himself. But whatever. It's your funeral."

He listened to Juragga. Nodded. Smiled.

"Rags says he'll do it. He'll talk to her. She already likes him and everything."

Another pause. Another smile.

"Soooo. Assuming this things hits orbit. What do we get out of it?"

The injured man smiles at Rhijan's, "Thanks friend.  I need to get up there to give my baby a good check over.  I mean, she's Jal's baby really, but I keep her running for him."  He starts up the steps as Rhijans holds them steady for him, and from the top he scrambles clumsily onto the ship's dorsal surface.

"Void!  We were lucky to make it back." he yells back down, presumably to the astromech droid which warbles and chirps a reply, "There's more holes than hull up here."  There is the sound of scraping metal and the man leans out holding a piece of metal roughly a half metre square in his one good hand.

"This wasn't even really trying to hang on.  I just twisted it right off."  A pause as he looks behind him, "And the field grid underneath it is shot to pieces."

Barsh beams in delight, "Thank you!"

The bottle is raised in a toast, and drained (albeit with a wince), "What you get, my friends is, 'Preferred Customer Status'.  You two... you need anything special you speak to me, and I'll do my best to get it for you, and I'll try to do it without you having to fill in all those annoying requisition forms.  Anything that isn't special, I'll see that you get the pick of the batch, if you want it.  Good food, good drink, good gear... "

The quartermaster's clerk looks from Haarmon to Juragga and back again, guaging reactions.

"How soon can you start?"

Shard closes her eyes for a moment.  She can't - honestly - get angry at the man for wanting to continue.  She also can't leave him there, and certainly won't leave Rhijans, either.  Angry, no.  A little frustrated with the situation?

Perhaps.

Her eyes spring open.  "Right." Turning around on her heel, she marches after Rhijans, intent on lending a hand to the injured technician.  "Let's do this - make certain everything is safe before hitting the showers."

Rhijans looked up.  While he didn't know a lot about ships, he knew enough to know that you weren't supposed to be able to remove hull-plating with one good arm and no tools.  "Who'd you tangle with on the way back?  Imperials?  Pirates?"  The answer could reveal more about just who it was that had been selling out the Alliance troops.

Juragga rolls his teal eyes, but sets his nearly-empty beer aside and rises to his full height.  "RrrrrrAAAWWWLllll," he commented.  I'll see what I can do.  Then, raising a shaggy brow, he added in Wookiee, "If you really want to impress her, get her a working map reader.  That girl has NO sense of direction."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Thu 14 Nov 2013.

"Imperials." the tech replies glumly, "We had to go to Cireddalbryrlir to grab some equipment from a cache there, then to Fand to trade for food.  Only the Impies were waiting for us at Fand.  A star destroyer and a bunch of those new TIEs, the fast ones.  Chewed us up good."

Something behind him flashes and showers sparks across the top of the ship, "The old girl won't be going anywhere for a while.  Hope we don't have to evacuate the base or anything.  Something has the Impies all stirred up."

Barsh looks blankly at Juragga, until Haarmon provides a translation.  "I'm hoping that the one I gave her a little while ago will work for a couple of days.  Trouble is she tends to treat them badly.  She gets lost, and the map gets the blame, and suffers for it."

"I really hope she treats men better than she treats datapads."  The laugh that follows trails off into uncertainty...

Rhijans nodded.  For a moment, he wondered if this was all in retribution for the damage they'd done on their last mission...but the timing didn't make sense.  The increased Imperial presence would have taken time to ramp up and disperse throughout the Sector...the Alliance losses were happening at the same time or immediately on the heels of the mission that turned up the new 'Death Star' project underway.

"Who all knew the details of your mission?" he asked.  The subtle approach hadn't been getting them much...an obvious question, at the right time to a frustrated survivor, might turn up more information.

Somewhere, there was a common thread.  It was all a question of sorting through them to find it.

Haarmon laughed at Juragga's suggestion before translating. A map. Yeah. That's some good stuff. "So she's got a temper too, huh? You like 'em spicy like that? Well. To each their own, I suppose."

Haarmon's voice managed an aloof, word-weary tone that was at sharp and immediate odds with the his level of real experience.

"Well, we got our marching orders, I suppose. Rags is gonna play matchmaker. And we'll get you your little rafter quick-quick. Anything else we need from this guy?" he asked the wookie.

"Huh."  Shard winces as something overloads past the tech, reflexively ducking her head.  But it's nothing...not this time, anyway.  "Does sound like they knew you were coming.  'Waiting'?  With the better ships?  You're lucky you got out alive."

And he is.

Void, I hope I don't get any more paranoid. If she does, Shard knows she'll be looking at survivors like this man, wondering how he managed to deal with those odds and escape.  We've done as much.

Her brow furrows.  "And just one ship.  One.  To blockade a system, that's not going to work.  But if they know someone is coming, they can cover the planned arrival area and just be there when the person pops out of hyperspace.  Makes sense."  Her lips twist into a grimace.  "Hope they get your ship mobile.  And soon."

She's getting a bad feeling.  Not 'about this', but in general.

"Exactly my thought.  They knew where we would be, and when.  Blasted TIEs were already in flight as we dropped out of hyperspace."  The tech shakes his head, "Who didn't know about the mission?  The briefing was for four or five groups at the same time.  My guess would be that Kourene wanted to make sure everybody knew what part they were playing in the big picture, so everybody got to see the whole thing."

"So I'd be thinking that somebody in the room had put the word out, so that'd be Kourene, his aides, and the people going on the missions.  But none of the teams, as far as I know, got back unscathed."  A sigh, and then, "So if there was a leak from the briefing, it's either at the top, or somebody didn't care how badly they might get hurt themselves."

Barsh's laugh matches Haarmon's, "Thank you.  You've saved my life, and put an end to my misery."  He stands to leave and shakes Haarmon's hand enthusiatically, then Jurgga's.  Surprisingly enough, the Wookiee's reaction suggests that the handshake might have been a little too enthusiastic, even for him...

Haarmon pulls a sour face. "I suspect you got a whole lot of misery left in you, yet. But we'll do what we can." He looked even more dubious after he shook the Wookie's hand and left. "Rags? You okay? What was that all about?"

Juragga almost commented about "the end of misery" merely being the beginning - but he was too taken aback by the crushing grip to say so.

"Rmmmph," he commented.  Strong for a little guy.

Rhijans' frown deepened.  The man's assessment of the situation fit uncomfortably well with suspicions that had been brewing in his own mind...the fact that so many missions had gone awry so quickly, combined with the fact that there were only a few individuals who could have known enough about ALL the compromised missions, left a lingering cloud of suspicion over Kourene and his staff.

And the Colonel doesn't make any sense...if he was going to sell us out, he could just sell out the base, or assign people missions that took them directly into the line of fire, instead of having unexpected Imperial forces turn up...

He glanced over at Shard, and his expression was dour as he tried to catch her eye.  They needed to talk...and it would have to be someplace secluded, where they didn't have to worry about someone eavesdropping, either personally or by accessing the surveillance gear on the base.  He had some vague notions of a plan...but, like the one with Haarmon, it was a plan that couldn't be run solo.  At least, not effectively.

This is sounding worse and worse.  Either it's the Colonel himself - always possible - or it's someone on his staff, and he's going to have a hard time accepting that.  His people are, no doubt, hand-picked and fully trusted.  That one of them might betray him would be nigh-impossible to consider.

Alternately, it was a sleeper on the mission...but then that runs into the issue of timing - how would they get the word out so quickly - and the risks for the sleeper, themselves.  Would the Imperials kill a valuable sleeper just to damage one raid?

Maybe, Shard admits, if the commander were incompetent.

Rhijan's glance doesn't go unnoticed.  She gives a slow nod in reply.  "Listen, anything else you need a hand with here?" Shard inquires of the crewman.  "If not, we should check and see if there are other problems."  She grimaces.  "Seems we're up to our eyeballs in them right now..."

With Barsh out of the room, Haarmon and Juragga are left to consider the apparent failure of their plan to draw out the traitor, instead getting themselves involved in a plot from some sort of romance novel... 

The tech shakes his head, "I think I'm going to be up here for a while, there's a fair bit of damage to check over.  If you've got other things to do, Arthree and me can probably manage.  If I need help getting down, there's plenty of other people about."

He raises his hand in salute to Rhijans, "Thanks for the help."

Haarmon thought a moment. "What was with that handshake, huh? You think maybe he's got a robot hand? Or maybe he's secretly a droid or something? Either way, you wanna go find whasserface? Or should we hang out here and see if maybe anyone else comes by?"

Rhijans waved back in response to the salute.  He had no formal rank, therefore the salute was a courtesy that made little difference to him, aside from being an acknowledgement of his efforts.  Looking at Shard, he jerked his head in the direction of the blast-doors they'd come through, which were finally open again.

As they walked, he said, casually, "The more we dig, the higher this infiltrator seems to be posted here.  Starting to think we're looking for someone close to the top...."  His voice was low, and his lips moved just enough to enunciate the words.

"Not all the way to Kourene...that doesn't make any more sense than it being some no-name grunt.  But someone who's been in on all the mission planning.  Beginning to think the only reason we got in and out as cleanly as we did is because we don't settle on formalized plans beyond about three steps into the mission...so there was nothing concrete to report on us.  But too many others got hit too strongly for it all to be accidental."

"Why do you get the thanks?" Shard grumbles, following Rhijans.  It's half-hearted, though, more reflexive than anything else, and she listens intently as the bounty-hunter outlines his suspicions.  She can't help but laugh at his conclusions; not that they're incorrect, mind, but the picture they paint is an amusing one.

"So, our lack of serious planning actually has an upside?"  Shard shakes her head.  "Another benefit to 'flexibility', I suppose.  But I agree.  We're dealing with someone high up, but not so high as the colonel." She purses her lips in distaste.  "I hope.  There's always the possibility it is the colonel, and he's playing a long game.  Maybe hoping to attract all the Rebels in the sector, to more easily break the Rebellion's back hereabouts."

She rubbed her temples.  "It's at times like this I wish I'd learned more.  But that's out, so we have to do this the hard way.  I suppose our first choice is to break into people's records.  Comm records will be the obvious things - Haarmon can check those, but I'm betting he won't find anything.  Anyone doing this is going to have a separate system or method for dropping the information to the Empire.  Someone in our top group, with a secondary transmitter hidden somewhere?  Or a second person, our level, who gets the information from the high-level traitor and then takes it out to a drop when they go on missions?  That might be hard to coordinate, and might account for some missions being successful while others aren't."

Juragga shook his head.  Warbling, he added, no, he wasn't that strong; just overly enthusiastic.  He didn't suspect high-gravity upbringing or bionics.  Just taken aback.

"Graaauuurrrrh," he added.  I said I'd go talk to her; so I better do that.

In a quiet corner, just outside the hangar, Shard and Rhijans pause for a  discussion regarding the current situation and the apparent leak of information to the Imperials.  They draw a few curious glances from passers-by, but npbody seems inclined to stop and interrupt their obviously important conversation...

Meanwhile Juragga and Haarmon set off in search of Kedra.  It doesn't take them long to find her, she's still working in the reactor chamber.  They can see her lower half sticking out from under a control panel, and hear her muffled voice as they approach nearer to her.

"... stupid, nerf herding farkled sleemo.  There's always one kriffing piece of dwang that's got to krong everything up... "  Her words are drowned out by a sudden pounding sound, metal on metal, from somewhere around the same location as her head...

"My guess would be either a concealed transmitter or someone with enough clout to arrange some time in the Comm section, alone."  There was a very real possibility that it was two people, but that would be twice as many people to sneak in, and the more people involved in a secret, the harder it became to keep.

"Another option might be to have Dak look for any information about relatives of any of the command staff having recently run afoul of Imperial officials.  I'm not sure how deep he'd have to dig for that, though, and I'm not even sure he could do the necessary digging from here."  He shrugged.

"If we're gonna do any looking, you're going to have to ask him.  If I ask, and we're seen talking to each other, it compromises his 'fed up with the Alliance' gambit and puts him in some really iffy terrain."

Shard purses her lips.  "Anyone using the comm would leave records.  They might wipe them, but I'm betting that would show as well, unless they're better experts than Haarmon."  Given the kind of things Haarmon has pulled off, she figures no.  Hopefully.

And, as always, Rhijans' analysis of the situation makes perfect sense.  "Relatives, right.  That leaves me to go talk to Haarmon about this," she muses.  "I haven't spoken to him yet, and it'd be a little strange if I didn't anyway.  Maybe we can have a good old-fashioned yelling bout at the end of it."

She rubs her forehead. "People seem to expect that of me, anyway."

Rhijans quirked an eyebrow in response.  "Really?  You haven't struck me as the 'shouting match' type..."  He wasn't sure what to call her personality.  Fatalistic?  Resigned?  Something along those lines, but they didn't quite catch the nuances...

"I do think people would expect you to talk to him, though, especially after talking this much with me out in public."  Rhijans was well aware of his tight-lipped image...  "You haven't had to play peacemaker with any of us, yet, but you've got that kind of presence about you."

"No, I'm not the shouting match type." Shard sighs. "While I appreciate the effort, if you go by reptuation I'm more of the 'drunken bitch'."  There's been precious little of the former in her life of late, a fact for which she feels a small modicum of pride.  However, it does bring out the latter a little more; pride, certainly, but crankiness comes with it as well.  And after all that heat, I could sure use a drink.

Shard's head droops for a moment in disappointment, her sweat-stringy black hair hainging around her face.  Water it is.

Hot.  Void.

She shoots a sidelong glance at Rhijans.  "You people are my team."  There's a hint of possessiveness in her tone. "Cursed straight I'll be a peacemaker if there needs to be one, and people ought to get that much at least."  She glances away as they walk, her jaw tight.  "I've been on a lot of teams over the years."  It's probably very different for Rhijans, and she wonders just how long he has worked alone.  "They're all gone.  This is a good one, good people.  Not just at getting the job done, but you all...I'm not letting any cursed traitor bring us down."

She'll use the murder-stick on whoever it is, if need be.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:25, Mon 09 Dec 2013.

"Rhijans Thanus!" the junior officer spots them from the far end of the corridor and calls out to Rhijans as he hurries towards the pair.  "Rhijan's Thanus.  And Shard too.  Glad I found the two of you.  Colonel Kourene wants to see you and the rest of your team in his office as soon as possible."

He stops close to Rhijans and Shard and adds, in a voice that's several hundred decibels quieter, "He said to tell you there is a ship on its way in right now that will be able to take you on your next mission.  The one he discussed with you, in private, earlier."

Haarmon kind of stands and looks from Kedra to Juragga. "So. How you wanna play this? Just step up with some smooth Wookie gosh you're hairy wanna come hang out in my tree fort kinda thing? Or maybe the direct route?"

"WuuUUUHHHrrrr!" Juragga replied.

Few beings understand subtlety like a Wookiee.

He hooted at Kedra and waved as they approached.

Rhijans nodded.  "I'll go talk to the Colonel...he's probably not going to tell us much of anything further until we're all there, but I can let him know the rest of the team is on its way.  Can you round up Haarmon and Juragga...and ask Haarmon about the stuff we discussed?"  Best to keep playing up the whole 'Shard as the peacemaker in the party' thing, for now...if the Colonel doesn't have his spy hunted down by the time we get back, we can leave the door open for the kid to keep his ploy running and see if anyone rises to the bait...

"I can bring Kourene up to speed on the other stuff..."

Shard shoots a quick look at Rhijans as the JO jogs up.  Void.  Perfect timing, of course.  Another mission, now?

"Fair enough," she replies to Rhijans.  "I don't know if I can get Haarmon to come, but we'll see.  Maybe he's not quite that honked off as he looks, or maybe I can appeal to his patriotism.  Or something." Play it up, Shard.  This one could be the traitor.

Ugly, ugly thoughts.  Now she's suspecting everyone and anyone but her own group. "Tell the colonel we'll be there," she tosses over shoulder, walking quickly away. And watch your back, Rhijans.

He doesn't need the advice, but she thinks it anyway.

Rhijans nodded an acknowledgement with a thin, barely-there smile...one that Shard would have seen in situations where there was nothing humorous to be smiling at...more of a 'smile in the face of danger' expression.

He turned to the officer that had brought them the message.  "Colonel in his office?" he asked.  It was possible that Kourene had taken the whole 'we've got a mole in our midst' thing seriously enough that he wanted to meet somewhere other than his office--just in case the spy had managed to place surveillance gear to monitor what was said there.

Kedra slides out from under the panel and sits up, smiling, as she sees Juragga and Haarmon.  "Hello.  What are you two doing here?" she asks cheerfully, all the anger which had been in her voice a moment ago faded to nothing.  "Did they send you down to help or something?"

She pushes herself to her feet and leans back against the edge of the panel, careful to avoid sitting on the controls, "Not that it isn't good to see you, but not many people come down here, so I'm curious."

"Yes, Colonel's office, as soon as possible." the office replies, then raises a datapad.  He taps at it once, producing a quite chirp, then checks the next entry on what looks to be an extensive list before turning to leave.  He nods to Shard and moves off.

Rhijans sets off for the Colonel's office, close to the briefing room, leaving Shard to find Haarmon and Juragga...

Off marches Shard, in search of Juragga and Haarmon.  The obvious choice is, of course, their quarters.  Which puts her at least close enough to her OWN quarters to change, possibly shower...

...no.  There's no time, of course there's no time, why would there be now, there never has been before, void, it's always the case...

Grumbling under her breath, the soot-smeared, char-scented, and sweaty Shard strides down the hall with a determined expression on her sharp-planed features.  May the Force help anyone who gets in her way; it sure hasn't done her a lot of good.

Rhijans was getting familiar with the path leading to Kourene's office, and it didn't take him long to get there.  He paused outside the door, taking a moment to knock.

Even if the door was open, one does not barge in on the commanding officer.  Rhijans had never been part of a regular military unit...his time in the Alliance was the extent of his military history.  But he understood, a CO deserved a certain amount of respect...even if you didn't respect the man, you had to respect the position.  In this case, he had some degree of respect for the man, as well...

Haarmon stood off to the side as Kedra pulled herself up from what she was doing. "Uh, no. Um. We didn't come down here to see you."

No. That wasn't right.

"I mean. We came to see you, but we didn't come down because we wanted to."

No. No. That wasn't right either.

He took a breath. "We came down to ask what kind of present you want."

That was even worse somehow...

He looked up at Juragga, his eyes pleading.

Juragga opened his mouth to talk and then shut it again as Haarmon jumped in.

Shaking his head, the Wookiee gently interceded before his friend completely ruined things.  In a low warble, he spoke eloquently in his own language, slipping into a formal clan-speak, knowing that Haarmon could at least translate it for him.

For those of us who have lost our families, who are far from home, who have no one else... we have become like family unto one another.  And as new friends, and future packmates, we have come on behalf of one who vies for the honor of your companionship.  He only need know what your heart desires as a gift, that he may provide it.  This we ask for him, and for you.

Kedra nods slowly as Haarmon tries to explain the reason for their visit.  As he finishes speaking, she looks as if she can't make up her mind whether to laugh, cry, or ask "What?"  In the end she settles for the latter, and then her attention is drawn by Juragga's uncharacteristically long speech,  She has no idea what it means, but it sounds important.

Haarmon translates for her.  "I see.  That was really nice Juragga."  She frowns, before saying, "It's Barsh, isn't it?  He would know the old traditions.  So he sent you to find out what it would take for him to make an acceptable, formal approach?"

The tech starts to pace, muttering and shaking her head, "It's hard.  Most of the things I'd like are too expensive for a first gift."  Then she stops, "Nlorna flower perfume!  That's what I want.  But he has to get it himself.  No sending somebody else to do it.  I mean it's easy enough to find, but he needs to make the effort himself."

Shard finds her way to Haarmon's quarters, but finds nobody home.  So next stop is probably Juragga's place...

Rhijans finds Kourene's door is actually open.  The Colonel beckons him into the office.  "Can I assume that the rest of your team are on their way?  We can wait until they get here, save me repeating myself."

Rhijans stepped inside, with a curt nod.  "Shard and I were discussing our current...situation...when we got the message.  She's trying to round up Haarmon and Juragga."

Their absence gave him time to touch on another situation.  "Any progress on isolating our information leak?" he asked, moving closer to Kourene's desk.  "So far, I've got nothing but a set of probably false leads."

He glanced down at the desk, looking for some kind of writing stylus and something to use it on.  The possibility that Kourene's office was compromised still weighed on his mind...he didn't want to address his suspicions aloud.

"For the love of..."

Voidvoidvoidvoidvoidvoidvoid...

Growling under her breath, Shard stalks away from Haarmon's quarters.  Off to Juragga's, then.  Hopefully they're actually in residence at the moment, because if they aren't....

Fumbling in her over-robe, she locates her communicator and slips it on, thumbing it to her team's frequency.  After waiting a beat to check if anyone else is on the line, she activates the radio.  + Juragga, Haarmon, where are you? +
This message was last edited by the player at 14:45, Mon 16 Dec 2013.

Shard tries to contact Juragga and Haarmon, but there is no answer.  Which means one of three things.  Four if she counts their both being dead.  The other three being they're out of range, don't have their comms with them, or are in a heavily shielded location.

Kedra nods and reiterates, "Yes, perfume.  That'd be nice."

In his office, Kourene gestures towards a chair, "Sit down.  Might as well get comfortable while you wait."

"No progress yet, no.  But I have a question for you.  What can you tell me about this incident I've heard about?  The one in the hangar when a team member and yourself apparently came to blows."

He watches Rhijans carefully as he adds, "Is this a problem?  Is it going to compromise the efficiency of your team?"

Haarmon was blissfully unaware that there were stormclouds a-brewing all around him. And if he had, he probably wouldn't have had the focus to deal with it. He was still pretty floored by Juragga's sudden descent into full-fledged romantic poet.

He managed the translation okay. But after that he was pretty lost. More so.

"Um. Yeah. Perfume. This is a thing we can do. Err. That he can do. We'll pass it along. Rags? Shall we go find the man and tell him what's what?"

And maybe score some sweet tech while we're down there.

Rhijans shook his head.  "We're professionals...even Haarmon, in his own quirky way.  We'll get the job done.  It's the down-time periods that will be tough to get through."  As he stepped to the chair, he indicated the writing gear on the desk, with a 'May I?' expression.

Without waiting for a response, he reached down and grabbed a stylus and notepad.  Poking around, the universal nature of compromised missions indicates someone high up in the chain of command...someone who has access to most mission details.  He thought about adding an explanation of the situation with Haarmon...but his inherent suspicious nature held back.

There was no knowing who might walk in and see the rest of the note.  And, slim though it was, there was a chance that the leak was actually sitting across the desk from him.  Haarmon's ruse could stay active for a while longer...

He slipped the note to Kourene, watching the Colonel carefully to judge his reaction.

Kourene reads the note, and scowls, before nodding to Rhijans.  "Well, if you believe that, I'm not going to argue with you."  He carefully folds the note, and tears it into tiny pieces, some of which he drops into the waste bin, and the rest he pockets.  For disposal elsewhere?  It seems that he's being careful too.  "I need to stretch my legs, I think.  When the rest arrive, we'll talk about your next job while we take a walk."

There is no answer at Juragga's place either.  The Wookiee and the slicer are obviously off somewhere together.  Given that they're supposed to be hunting for a spy, that gives Shard lots of unpleasant possibilities to think about...

The two missing comrades are, in fact, just leaving the reactor chamber and heading for the Quartermaster Stores again.  Behind them, Kedra suppresses a chuckle, then crawls back under the panel to continue working...

Juragga gave a courtly nod to Kedra and then woofed to Haarmon.  "Let's go find Barsh," he said in his own language.

Haarmon nods. "Yeah. Totally. Let's do this."

As they walked away Haarmon looked up at his friend, his face thoughtful. "You think this is gonna be that simple? Seems like a long trip through hypedrive ride for a short day at the space station. You know what I'm saying?"

Rhijans nodded.  "Considering Shard and I were both just involved in the firefighting effort down in the hangar, you may not want all of us cooped up together in your office, anyway.  Not unless you want to clean up the soot we'll be leaving behind..."

It occurred to him, randomly, that he was rather thirsty at the moment.  Considering the events of the last hour or so, it was logical...he'd spent most of that time in the heart of a starship that was engulfed in flames and threatening to explode.  The heat and the tension of the situation were, individually, enough to induce a dehydrating sweat.  Together...

"You got anything to drink, while we're waiting?  I'm parched...need to rehydrate a bit."  Besides, it gave him a good excuse to look around Kourene's office a bit and see if he recognized any surveillance gear.  He suspected the Colonel had already done as much...but a fresh set of eyes couldn't hurt.

"Of course.  I should have thought of that sooner."  Kourene stands and turns to a table behind his desk to pick up a carafe and a glass, which he places in front of Rhijans.  "Help yourself.  It's just water, I'm afraid, I don't touch anything stronger while I'm working."

He seats himself again, "I heard that you did good work with the fire.  Always a worry when a ship comes in shot up like that, and worse still at the moment - most of them are reporting trouble out there.  I mean, it always used to happen, it's the nature of the work we're asking them to do, but nothing like it's been recently."

Juragga and Haarmon are about half way to the Quartermater's store when they actually run into Barsh, casually loitering in the corridor.  He smiles nervously at the pair as he steps out to intercept them.  "Did you speak to her?  Was she all right about it?  She doesn't hate me does she?"

Shard, meanwhile, stands outside Juragga's quarters, pondering her next destination...

Rhijans gave a thin-lipped grin that presented a rare sign of genuine humor lurking behind the stoic front he maintained.  "Water's great," he responded.  While he did imbibe, it was only occasionally, and sparingly.

"And, as for the firefighting...from what was said to us when we found out what was going on, it was a choice of either getting involved, or sitting back and waiting for someone else to determine our fate."  He paused for a moment, holding the carafe in the air, poised to begin poouring, and looked Kourene in the eyes.

"I've never been comfortable leaving my fate up to others.  If I'm going down, I'd rather it be fighting for my life than cowering in some corner, hoping someone manages to save me."

"This will probably only end in tears," Juragga warbled aside in response to Haarmon, as the duo set out to find Barsh.

But upon finding Barsh, the sardonic Wookiee said, "RaAAAAAAAAAAuuuurrrmmmf.  Frrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaa.  GrrrrrrrrRRRuuuuUUnnnnh!"

Which was to say, We spoke with her.  She finds her FirstGift acceptable to be Nlorna flower perfume, but you must gather it yourself - no proxies.

Haarmon snorts at Juragga's specific little speech. "First you're a romance poet and now you're a lawyer? A Wookie with layers, huh?"

He translates for Barsh. And then sits and waits for things to go start going south. He agreed with Juragga on that one. This could only end in tears.

Shard stops.  She has no idea where Haarmon and Juragga are, and can't raise them with her communicator.  She steps into an alcove, off the corridor, lit only by the flickering lights of instrument panels mounted on the walls, and lets the sofy susurrus of cooling fans in the equipment modules calm her.  She closes her eyes, and reaches out... 

Then the woman emerges from the alcove, walking through the base, her step sure and filled with purpose...

Barsh nods eagerly, then stops, and the burgeoning smile on his face crashes like a cheap program.  "Nlorna flower perfume?"  A datapad appears from his pocket, and he taps in the information.  His smile falls further, possibly not stopping until it hits his boots.  "Well... looks like the only place I'm going to get any of that is on Carodol.  Far side of the sector, and pretty much owned by Hutts.  Not a nice place to visit."

"But Kedra's worth it.  Isn't she?"

Kourene helps himself to some of the water, and sits while Rhijans talks about letting others decide his fate.  "Yes, I understand that.  I was always very active in deciding my own fate when I was younger.  Of course, now, the best I can do is try to pick the people that I think will shift my fate in the direction I'd like it to go.  Can't really get stuck in and do things for myself...  Too many other people depending on me."

"Have you ever thought about being in charge of a base or a station somewhere?"

Haarmon shrugs. "Yeah, she's pretty swell, all right. Can you, like, just get some shipped via Galactic Express or whatever? I'm sure the Hutts would make you an offer you can't believe, or whatever it is they do."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:12, Sat 04 Jan 2014.

Rhijans grimaced at the thought.  "No, I haven't ever thought about it, and the thought of it now isn't terribly appealing.  I'm still adjusting to the thought of a team relying on my actions and abilities...the last thing I'm ready to get saddled with is a whole base.  No offense, Colonel--but I lack the bureaucratic know-how to manage a base.  I'm a field man...it's how I think and it's what I know.  Putting me anywhere else is putting people in danger because of my lack of ability.  I'm willing to do that to myself...reluctantly willing to let a team agree to do it with me."  He shook his head with an unpleasant look on his face.

"Vehemently opposed to making people take that risk without any say in the arrangement."  He sipped the water...a sip, that turned into several long swallows as instinct took over and his body insisted on some immediate relief for the dehydration.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:57, Tue 31 Dec 2013.

Who knew that the training would prove of worth, even if her skill has deteriorated?  And it has, Shard has to admit.  It could be age, she muses as she paces the corridors, her destination firmly in mind.  But in all honesty, no.

"Boozing it up," the woman mutters to herself with some disgust.

Closer now, as she marches down the halls, the scent of smoke heavy in her wake.  Closer...she's heading for the quartermaster's.  Lovely.  Walking in all filthy and dusty isn't going to endear her to him, but then she's already in his bad books for some reason.  How much worse could it get?

There's the door.  She can feel Juragga beyond it, easy to spot amidst the flickering thoughts of the other species.  His own ponderings carry weight; not 'slow' precisely, but with mass, and a flavour to them distinct from the other beings on the base.

She passes the door.  No Wookie in there.  But up ahead?  "There you are," she mutters, and yes, poor luck, they're with Barsh.  "Lovely.  Haarmon!  Juragga!"

Barsh frowns, "I should be able to get some shipped here, yes.  Just need to work out the quickest way - we don't often have ships coming in from Carodol.  Tricky...  Hopefully Kedra won't think that's not playing by her rules."

He glances towards the Shard and murmurs quietly to Haarmon and Juragga, "Oh, here's your friend.  I'll leave you to deal with her, I don't think she likes me." then louder, "Look, thanks for finding this out for me.  I've got to get going, but I won't forget our deal."

"No offense taken.  I used to be a field man myself, during the Clone Wars.  I know what you mean about not wanting people to have to rely on your decisions." Kourene replies.  Then, with a laugh, "In fact, back when I was about your age, I'd have said exactly the same thing as you just did.  I remember when I got my first team command I lay awake the whole night before the first duty assignment worrying about all the things I might do wrong.  Came very close to walking into my commander's office and resigning my commission, because I was so worried about making a mistake and losing my commission."

Rhijans gave a narrow smile of understanding.  "I'm a long way from being ready to command anyone.  I'm still getting used to working as a team...overcoming a lifetime of running on my own."  It wasn't necessarily true...he wasn't an orphan, after all.  But most of his adult life had consisted of him being responsible only for himself, and it was a hard instinct to overcome.

The smile turned into a dry chuckle..."And I think my approach to most things is a little too unorthodox to fit well in a command structure.  I work better as a loosely-attached appendage than as part of the main body."  He took another drink of water.

"I guess you could think of me as a prehensile tail..." he quipped in a rare display of self-deprecating humor, as he refilled his glass.

Juragga glanced over as Shard announced herself, approaching.  He hooted a greeting, noting Barsh's comment about Shard not liking him.

Maybe there's a reason, he mused, suspicion awakened.  Having a traitor aboard could make anyone suspicious, but these were tough times.

Haarmon saw Shard come in and his face broke into a wide grin. It was only there for a moment, but it was certainly there, bright and shiny and real. And then he remembered himself and swallowed up all that happy and brought out the Scowl and made it work for a living.

Watch it there, cool guy, he told himself, You're a badass Agent now. Watch what you do.

He nodded at Barsh once his scowl was in place. "Well. I'm not feeling like I like them too much right at the moment neither. But, you know, good luck with that thing. Let us know if we can help."

He turned and watched Shard as she approached. He tapped Juragga and pointed. And then, in a voice loud enough to carry, "Looks like High Lord Tech Ninja sent over the morale patrol. Looking to herd us back into line, I spose."

He really, really, really hoped that Shard knew what was happening. Aside from the fact that he didn't want to go tangling with a Jedi if he could help it, there were... personal reasons... for him not wanting things to get muddy between them.

But all that same, in his own way, he knew there was a job needed doing, and to the Void with everything else.

"Hey, Juragga."  Her face brightens into a smile.  It slips as Harmon's own grin freezes and shatters, then she remembers Rhijans' explanation.  Right.  So Shard finds herself not unprepared for the coldness of his greeting.  But then...Deal?  What deal?  What's up with Barsh.

"Haarmon, look, I know things didn't go well last mission," she begins.  "But we're all on the same side, here, aren't we?" It's hard playing peacemaker this way; Haarmon is pretty good with that scowl, and she just wants to slap it off his face.  That wouldn't be good for the plan, she suspects.

All the same, there's something to be said for staying in character...

"You have a grievance?"  Her voice sharpens as her hands land on her hips.  "Kourene wants to see us - you can air it to him, if you figure he'll take the time."  The robed woman shoots a sidelong glance at Juragga. "Talk to him, Juragga, he'll listen to you.  We have a job to do, here, and I'm not going to let a load of bantha crap get in the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:41, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Still more than a little worried that they weren't playing any more, that this would all dip into serious and never come out the far end quite right, Haarmon made a dismissive hissing noise through his teeth.

"Yeah. Sure. All for one, right. But answer me this, what do we do when the job is the Bantha crap? Huh? What then? Do I still have to choke it down and call it Corellian Ice Wine? No. No. Kourene can keep his summons. And you can too. You comin, Rags?"

He gave Juragga a significant look. This situation needed the voice of reason to get them all to Kourene. And if the voice of reason was going to come from somewhere, it had to come from the Wookie Wordsworth.

Haarmon looks at Juragga, his eyes begging for the Wookiee to save him.  For a moment Juragga briefly considers reminding his friend that this is all a ruse, intended to flush out spies...  He opens his mouth to speak, stops, and closes it again.

There's no telling if anybody else within earshot can understand what he says.

A little more thought, and then he lets out a long ululation, the tone rising and falling, shifting into a series of grunts, and finally dropping into a profound bass growl.  "Haarmon, you should at least talk to Kourene.  Maybe he hasn't been kept informed about what's going on outside his office, and will listen to you and do something to improve things.  And if he says he won't, you at least need to be in the same room as him to land a punch."

The Colonel himself laughs at Rhijan's "prehensile tail" comment, then grows a little more serious.  "I wouldn't refer to any of my people in quite that way.  I like to think they all have something more than blasters and brawn.  Brains are important too."

"I also tend not to care how unorthodox somebody's methods are, as long as what they're doing works."

Shard rubs her forehead as Haarmon puts on his act.  She hopes it an act, in any case.  If not...  Doesn't bear thinking about, Shard.  Let that go.  "Sometimes you have to take Bantha crap to get to the Corellian Ice Wine," she begins, a touch hot, but fortunately Juragga steps in before it turns into a shouting match.

He would have simply rolled over their cries, anyway, with his usual basso rumble.

Juragga, of course, comes equipped with logic and forebearance plug-ins.  His addendum is cause for some concern, but Shard lets it pass in the interest of keeping the act up...hopefully Juragga is simply concerned about eavesdroppers who speak his language, though it's a stretch.

"At this point," Shard mutters, "I could do with some of that ice wine.  Or whatever."

More likely 'whatever' around here.

Juragga looked sadly from Shard to Haarmon, looking forlorn.  "Uuurrrrf," he commented mildly to Haarmon, an entreaty but not a hopeful one.  He'd made his case the best he could, but the circumstances were difficult.  He obviously wanted to go with Shard, but wasn't going to leave Haarmon.

Rhijans nodded.  "Unorthodox, I do very well.  The whole group does.  I just want to make sure that success in the field isn't mistaken for superior leadership.  We do well because we complement each other...where one or two of us are lacking, another one makes up for it, most of the time...and if not, then we've got several very different minds looking for a way to either salvage the situation or wreak as much havoc as possible."  He took another drink, this time not quite as long or urgent.

"You can take hyperdrive conduit and use it to get a damaged gun working...but that leaves you with a gun that isn't as effective as it should be, and a hyperdrive that doesn't work at all.  Usually best if components are left where they are most functional, rather than trying to jury-rig some kind of compromised option."

The talk of making him...or any of them, for that matter...a commanding officer left him feeling very uncomfortable.  He knew there were people in the Alliance--just like in the Empire, or the Hutt Syndicate, or any one of a dozen mercenary organizations--who'd joined up specifically to try and win their way to a position of power, to land some kind of perceived honor from having hundreds or even thousands of people jump at your command.  He was not one of those people.  He'd joined to make the Empire pay for what they'd done to his family...his people...and he found it much easier to extract that payment when he was out in the field and on the move.  Tucked behind a desk, or in some combat-information-center, he was too removed from it...his situational awareness didn't work when he wasn't in the situation, after all...

And, frankly, the thought that dozens or hundreds of beings could die because his instincts didn't alert him to something scared him.  A lot.  He'd rather be a low-ranking, high-efficiency operative than a high-ranking, low-efficiency officer.

Haarmon shot Juragga a look that tried to be long-suffering, but was probably mostly gratitude. Came through for us again, big guy, he thought, never doubted you for a second.

To Shard he offered a dramatic, over-done shrug. He figured that dramatic and over-done was about how he did things even when he wasn't being a giant drama-queen.

"Fine. Rags says we go see him. So we go see him. Lead the way. But I'm not taking any lookit-here-son-back-in-my-day poodoo from anyone. And not from him."

"And there we go," Shard pronounces, looking satisfied.  She is, really, but not for having 'won' the argument (thanks to Juragga); she's quite pleased that the plan remains a plan, and not escalated into full-blown dissatisfaction.  Having Haarmon and Juragga leave the team would prove disastrous, for a variety of reasons.

"We'll see what he says, Haarmon."  Shard grimaces.  "Can't promise anything...see you later, Quartermaster."  This with a small wave for the man.

"Wuuurrf," Juragga rumbled, relieved.  He fell in with Shard and Haarmon, glad the immediate crisis was over.

All this duplicity was making him hungry.

The mismatched trio make their way quickly to Colonel Kourene's office, where they find Rhijans and the Alliance officer engaged in conversation.  A conversation that is interrupted as they arrive, and Kourene stands, "Ah... glad you're here.  Walk with me, please."

All five of them head out of the base, taking a somewhat indirect route, and out into the hot, humid jungle.

Finally Kourene explains why he has asked to speak to them, "Sorry to bring you out here, but it seems that if there is a spy in the base, and I'm starting to think there is, they'll find it harder to eavesdrop on a conversation if we keep moving.  I don't want anybody in the base, outside the five of us, knowing anything about this."

I'll get straight to the heart of the matter.  There's a ship on its way in.  The captain is a smuggler who isn't directly tied to the Alliance, but has proved reliable enough in the past, transferring personnel and materiel, that I feel I can trust her to take you to Carodol to negotiate with the Hutt for the release of the slaves that you rescued from Alrirkr."

They continue moving, as the temperature continues to rise, "You'll be issued with enough currency that you should be able to purchase the slaves, should Oomba prove disinclined to simply release them out of the goodness of his hearts."

"Oomba has hearts?" Rhijans quipped drily.  "I thought the race had evolved out of them several centuries ago."

He gave Kourene a steady look, and added, "Any chance that we might also have enough munitions to help discourage any other interested bidders?" he asked.  There was an edge to his voice...and a glint in his eye...that hinted that he might have some other, unstated purpose in mind for those munitions, but he said nothing further on the subject.

Shard remains silent through the explanation.  That the Colonel has dragged them all the way out here speaks volumes to his lack of trust in...well, everyone.  Not a good situation.  But her heart lifts as he explains their purpose.  It's what she has wanted, to free the slaves, and for once it looks like she might just achieve her desires.

You're not there yet, you idiot.

She breathes out a chuckle at Rhijan's dry humor, but it's only half-hearted.  Instead, her thoughts speed elsewhere, his words triggering some considerations of her own, and her right hand rises to rub her left wrist. "Or sellers."  Shard turns away, ambling a few steps.  "Oh, I know we don't want a war with the Hutts at the same time," she clarifies, waving off her earlier comment.  Her tone is light, airy, and somehow more toxic than dioxin.  "I just had a thought of how nice it would be to see Oomba go down in flames."

Shard glances over her shoulder with the hopeful smile of a young girl. "Literally."

Turning back to stare into the jungle's depths, she gives herself a small shake, relaxing into her habitual stance.  "How much time do we have to prep?"

Kourene smiles at Rhijans' comment about Hutts and their hearts, but the smile fades as he turns to the more serious  parts of the discussion.  "You will, of course, be issued with power cells for your weapons.  Though I'd rather you didn't get into a shooting war with Oomba's own people, especially on his home ground.  He has a lot of resources at his disposal, and if he were to decide to make life difficult for us... well... while he might not stage a direct assault on Mothessh, things could become uncomfortable."

"Having said that, he's a businessman."  The Colonel's gaze sweeps over the nearby foliage, as he continues, "For a decent price he'll likely turn his blind eye towards any trouble that doesn't directly affect him or his operation."

"You probably have about five hours to get ready.  The ship is still on its way in, and Karja will want to get her offloaded and resupplied before she goes anywhere."

Haarmon wasn't sure what his role in all this was. It was just Kourene here, and if he was the rat they were all screwed, so maybe he wasn't supposed to keep up the act. But then, no one told him he could drop it. Or said anything about it. Or told him what to do. So maybe there was some super-secret spy-agent super-soldier reason to keep it up and he'd just missed that part in basic training because he was chatting up hotties on the nets? Who can listen to all that crap without drifting off anyway?

Sigh. It was hard being him sometimes.

In the end, practicality reigned. They had to trust someone. It might as well be the colonal.

"So this is just a buy-bust? Like a snatch-and-grab? Are we supposed to be paying fair market price for them, or whatever?"

Juragga perked up at the details of the mission.  At last!  He'd been wracked with angst about the slaves, and had vowed to find a way to free them.  There just didn't seem to be a chance to do so quickly.  He was glad that had changed.

"UhhHHHRR!" he hooted in enthusiasm.

"Outstanding."

She's not being sarcastic, either.  Even if they can't take out the Hutt as well - and that might be a tad problematic - getting the slaves back is the main thing.  Sure, it rankles that they need to play the Hutt's game, paying him off to release them.  But still - better that than leaving them in his clutches.

"Five hours gives us enough time," Shard mutters.  "Maybe I can actually get a shower in."  She still stinks of 'burn'.  "Don't need any specialized equipment.  This is a negotiation; beyond a thermal detonantor, I can't think of anything that might make a difference.  So power cells it is.  The quartermaster will be pleased."  She frowns.  "Maybe."

Reaching up - waaaaay up - she claps Juragga on the shoulder.  "Let's go get those people freed."

Rhijans grinned darkly at Haarmon's question.  "At a guess, I'd wager there's not much that's fair about the market price for them.  And I'd also wager that if we go in sounding too eager to get them all, Oomba will inflate his asking price.  We need to figure out a way to ask to purchase them all without sounding like we're terribly fussed one way or the other about whether or not we get them.  Possibly playing ourselves off as purchasing agents for an illicit mining interest that's looking to set up operations somewhere in the sector...gives us a plausible reason for asking about slaves taken from a mining post, but also leaves us with a very plausible out if Oomba wants to try and make negotiations too steep...we can always tell him that our employers aren't interested in paying THAT much and they'd rather start fresh with slaves from someone else..."

He shrugged.  "Sound workable?"

Kourene leans back against a tree, arms folded, and listens as the team starts to plan.  He stays quiet unless asked directly for clarification of details, and inrtead studies the dynamics of the team.  Rhijans, for all his protests, seems to have assumed the lead, a role which the rest of the team readily accept.  But the others seem happy enough to make comments and suggestions, some of which are folded into the plan.

He had thought to mention Oomba's reputation, but it seems likely that nobody would be too surprised to hear that a Hutt is considered to be a shrewd businessman with a penchant for using hired thugs to back up negotiations.  Very good hired thugs.

Haarmon scowled. This was his real scowl, which wasn't so much the slap-inducing y'all so dumb I can't even see you from here scowl that he gave Shard earlier (that scowl he'd learned and perfected as a skinny abrasive unpopular kid in school), this was the something 'bout this just ain't right scowl that meant he was thinking.

"Any way we could somehow make those slaves more trouble than they're worth? And then maybe he'd offer them to us if we went looking for any old slaves you got  lying around, Oomba my Good Slug, just make sure they're cheap. Yeah?"

Rhijans gave the closest thing to a real grin that passed his face, in general.  "Only problem I see with that approach is, Oomba might just try and give us any old slaves he has lying about.  The fact that these slaves all have experience in mines gives us a way to fish for that specific group without making it apparent that we're hunting for them."

His grin faded, and his brow knit briefly in a fleeting scowl.  "Of course, this will all become academic if that Ubese is lurking about Oomba's court.  The moment he sees us, he KNOWS our connection to the slaves.  If he says something to Oomba, it then becomes a game of whether Oomba is more interested in gouging us to capitalize on our guilty conscience or in handing over a bunch of potential Rebels to stick it to the Empire."

He gave a microscopic shake of his head.  "And that's assuming that our intel leak here is Imperial, and isn't Oomba selectively selling out the Alliance in order to appease the Empire.  But we could paralyze ourselves worrying about all the potential things that could go wrong, going in.  But we definitely need to maintain some degree of indifference to whether or not we end up with the slaves, or we're definitely going to have a whole new class of trouble from the Hutts."

He turned and looked at Shard and Juragga, his head inclining slightly.  "That means that we may be stuck having to play it cool if any of them are being abused in front of us.  For some of us, that may be harder than others.  But we need to keep the long view and the greater good in mind...play it cool over the possible suffering of one or two in order to secure the freedom of the whole lot.  Yes?"  While he was asking, his tone was clear...it was more of a warning than a request.

"I'm not very good with long views," Shard notes, shifting away to pace. "I can't promise anything, Rhijans.  I won't stand by and let something terrible happen to someone.  There's always another way, and if that means changing plans on the fly...." She shrugs.  "I didn't pick this job because it wouldn't be risky.  Buuut...that's also putting everyone else in danger."  Her teeth grind for an instant.  She truly understands Rhijans point, and wishes she could see things that way; the good of the many, and all that, it makes perfect sense.

But when someone is screaming in front of her, the nebulous future of the many loses its importance.

"Maybe there's a way we can get around that.  Something new."  She rubs her forehead to stave off the incipient headache.  "Cards on table.  Tell Oomba we want these specific slaves.  Tell him what we have to pay for them.  That's it, that's all - that's the limit of our creds.  He wants more?  We don't have it, and maybe we'll have to end up doing something stupid everyone will regret, with no profit for anyone.  Cash on delivery."

She snorts.  "Anyone ever try to play it straight with Hutts?  Probably not, but why even bother getting all tricky and so forth?  They're better at it."

Rhijans gave another thin smile.  "Only problem I see with laying all the cards on the table is, it doesn't leave us with much of a contingency if that plan doesn't work.  The less we tell him, the better...chances that he'll tie us back to the Alliance go down, the less he knows about who we are and where we're from and all that."

He looked at Shard...it was true that people didn't often play things straight with the Hutts.  The notion was just outrageous enough that it might work...except...

"Hutts aren't generally known for their morality.  They're also not known for settling on a first offer.  We have no way of knowing if we're the only parties interested in this group, and if we're not...and we walk in and make a one-time, take-it-or-leave-it offer, all the other group has to do is top it and we've got nothing left to play, except trying to find some way to dissuade them from being interested.  And Hutts are also notorious for discouraging that particular kind of negotiation in their courts.  I'd like to try and do this in a way that doesn't leave us with violent action as our primary contingency plan...I think we need to keep that as an option, yes, but I'd like it to be at least the third or fourth option."

While he was used to solving many of his problems with violence, he'd always had the good sense to realize that there were sometimes easier options.

The discussion continues.  The main thing that is becoming clear is that this whole business will have to be approached very carefully.

There is growing rumble from overhead, and Kourene lifts his head skyward, where a transport is dropping down towards the base.  "That's Karja now.  I need to go and speak with her.  I'll give her the credits, because it will look less suspicious for me to be paying off a smuggler captain, should anybody see me.  If you need any extra equipment let me know, and I'll authorize it."

He walks away, but after about four or five paces, he stops and turns back, "Oh yes, you can trust Karja.  She's hated the Empire since before I joined the Alliance.  But just watch out for her, she's got a bit of a temper.  She won't betray you to the Hutt, or anybody else, but she might throw you off the ship in vacuum if you upset her."

Juragga smirked at that, then rumbled uneasily as he turned his attention back to Rhijans, and Shard.

"Rfaaaaaahhhhrrrr," he commented darkly.  I'd like to have a few words with the Urbese. By words, he meant ripping his arms off.

"GggGGGuuuuhhhhn," he added.  I'll try to play cool, but I can't stomach slaves being abused. "rrRRRRAAaaaa," he commented.  And I'm always looking for my family.  Or any other Wookiee slaves.

Again, the thin smile flickered across his features.  "Sounds like she and I speak the same language, then.  Good to know she's someone we can trust."  Not that I plan on it any more than is absolutely necessary... he told himself.

But it WAS good to know that if they needed to, they could.

Shard accept Rhijans' greater knowledge of the Hutts without question.  He's probably right, and going in straightforward would just cause more problems than it would solve.  Mind, she's not sure how they can actually expect to out-bargain or fool the Hutt.

Maybe Rhijans has some solid experience dealing with them that'll come in handy.

"Karja sounds like a treat," she grumbles. "I'll probably end up getting thrown out of the airlock." Reaching over, she pats Juragga's arm.  "Don't worry.  If we bump into that little sleaze, I won't be holding you back."

Her lips thin. "And I agree about the rest.  We'll wait and see what we find."  Her voice drops, low and grim.  "And take whatever steps are necessary."

Haarmon laughed at Juragga. He knew his old friend only too well. "In case y'all are wondering, few words is a Wookie euphemism for make you eat your own pancreas. Which suits Mr. Opportunist Urbese just fine, in my humble opinion."

He paused. Thought a moment.

"Is there any way we could make the slaves, those slaves, have an actual cost to the Hutts? Like, I don't know, make it known that someone would explode anyone with them, or something? If Hutt-boy thought that he might actually be better off without them, and then we say we want some..."

He shrugged.

Rhijans considered the idea, and slowly shook his head.  "I don't see an effective way to plant the story.  If we had agents inside Oomba's organization, close to him, that could plant the rumor, then maybe...but I don't see a way to make the idea credible, otherwise."

He thought again, and added, "That's assuming that Oomba wouldn't just choose to not deal with the threat at all and have them shot outright to eliminate the potential problem."

He glanced around the group briefly before focusing on Haarmon again.  "If you can come up with a credible method of planting the story...and can work out some wrinkle to it that would make it worthwhile for the Hutts to risk one or more of the slaves blowing up in order to wait for a payment of some kind...then I say go for it."  He smiled thinly and added, "Actually...what might work best would be to start a rumor that Oomba had one or more of them implanted with some kind of explosive device in order to make sure they weren't stolen and didn't try to escape...might serve to quench some enthusiasm from anyone else who's looking to buy them if it's believed that there's a safety risk.  And if there's only one enthusiastic buyer...well, Oomba's a business-being.  He's not going to try and gouge the only guy who's interested in buying, especially if we manage to convey a willingness to turn around and walk away if the price is too far out of range."

The plan seems to be taking place rapidly, but takes a brief pause as the transport, much larger than the Dancing Bantha or Bold gambit, drops out of sight behind the intervening jungle.  As the sound of the drives fade, the discussion picks up again.

Like all the best plans, the current incarnation of this one seems to be simple. persuade other buyers that the slaves are, in some manner, more trouble than they're worth.  Then convince Oomba that he has only one group interested in buying them.

Simple.  There's probably only a million things that could go wrong, and that has to be better than the last mission.  Right?

Just as long as they don't end up trying to persuade Ghea Nimadda that she should be looking elsewhere for slaves...