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.