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?"