Rhijans didn't speak Wookiee...but he could make an educated guess at the intent of the soft growl.  He gave a jerk of his head, indicating Juragga should come with him...there wasn't much to be accomplished out in the yard, if shooting was going to break out then Karja's ship would lay down a lot more firepower than both he and the Wookiee could manage to do.  And, frankly, the thought of walking back into Oomba's throne room with no cover, whatsoever, was only slightly less unappealing than the Hutt, himself.

He didn't wait to see if Juragga walked all the way to the throne with him, though...they'd tried to establish some degree of separation when they'd gone in before, and if he stopped and started looking around now, that would all be for naught.  It could also create some doubt about the rest of what they'd said...and that was something that Rhijans desperately wanted to avoid.  They had, thus far, apparently sold their story well...but he was quite sure that it wouldn't take much looking for someone to find some significant holes in it, if they were so motivated.

He didn't care if they looked later...but he wanted to at least be breaking orbit before they got a chance to find out.

"Payment, as agreed," he said, doing his best to maintain his bravado as he approached the throne, and set the bag down for Oomba...or one of his trusted lackeys...to examine.

Shard grimaces, shaking her head.  She has to head this off quickly.  "That's why we're here," she states, hurrying forward to that cage.  "Keep it down!  We're here to get you out." Her lips thin, compressing down to a razor-sharp line.  "We screwed up - shouldn't have trusted that void-cursed Ubese, and if I catch him it'll be the last time he pulls something like that.  But we figured it out, and that's why I'm standing here right now."

She waves up at the roof.  "Look, my partner just dropped a ton of credits to take you off the Hutt's hands.  If we'd wanted you for slaves, we wouldn't have had to go through all of this, right?  We just want to get you out of here, so please, please trust me on this!"

Straightening, she slowly turns in a circle.  "Everyone.  Everyone here," Shard breathes, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "We just...we just have to do this right, so there aren't any more cursed mistakes." 

Juragga nodded and fell in behind Rhijans, covering him as needed.  He kept his bowcaster under his poncho but his finger was on the trigger, his teal eyes sweeping the crowd.  He was as close to twitchy as he ever got.

You-Why falls in behind Rhijans as he re-enters the hall, ready to translate anything the Hutt says.

Rhijans sets the money down, and Oomba fixes it with his one eyed gaze.  He says nothing at first, then calls out, "Vodich!"  A couple of seconds later, a tall, thin, vaguely humanoid alien steps forward.  It's long, narrow face is gloomy, and it clothes sombre shades of grey and brown.  It speaks, and it's voice is deep, and slow, and sounds as if it is filled with sadness.

Oomba simply gestures to the bag, "Webdah bu moulee-rah."

The alien bows to Oomba, then again to Rhijans (though that bow is not as deep).  "Oomba wants the Muun to count the money."  It carefully picks up the bag and places it on a table, pushing aside trash and empty beakers, before folding itself into a seat.  Then it opens the bag and starts pulling out bundles of bills.

The result is instant.  All eyes in the room seem to fixate on the cash, and a large proportion of the talk simply... stops...

A similar effect happens in the slave pens.  The angry muttering falls silent, for the most part, and a human male shuffles up to the bars, "You're here to rescue us again?  Please... hurry!"

And as if to reinforce his request, there is a scream from the far end of the room, muffled somewhat by the closed door...

Rhijans' first reaction, when hearing that Oomba wanted the money counted, was a nod, with a slight bow (to Oomba...the Muun was just a hired hand and didn't warrant such courtesies.)

Then the cash came out, and the room went still...and Rhijans fought hard to suppress the itch of having dozens of eyes shifting from the cash to him.  When he left, one of two reactions would sweep along in his wake, and he couldn't be sure how many would go which way...some would think of him, the pile of cash, and conclude that anyone who piled that much cash idly in a bag to hand over to a Hutt had some major connections and should be left alone.  Others would think of the cash, and envision that he had some further reserve of it on his person.  He did...but nowhere close to the kinds of quantities that they'd be imagining.

The one thing, at this point, that was likely to prevent him from some kind of fatal confrontation on his way out was the amount of talk Oomba had spouted earlier about now being friends.  If they were currently hanging out in Oomba's court, they'd be extremely reluctant to compromise their welcome by confronting one of the Hutt's friends.

Still, reassuring as that thought was, it didn't totally ease his discomfort at having so much attention focused on him.  It was enough to keep him from actively reaching for his blaster...but not enough to keep him from resting his hand on top of it, as a visual reminder that he was armed.  He'd have to rely on the visible wear on the blaster and holster to underscore the fact that he knew how to use it.  And rather than rubbernecking to see who might be looking at him, he focused his attention on the Muun, watching as the money was counted out.

While Rhijans watched the Munn, Juragga watched Rhijan's back, tracking motion and any itchy trigger fingers.

"Void," Shard whispers. "What's going on there?" Her jaw sets. "We've 'bought' you - cost a lot, so we'd rather walk you out of here nice and safely, without having to lose some if there's a running gun battle.  If it comes to it we'll start shooting, but what would be perfect is for everyone to march onto our ship looking all sad-eyed, and once we're aboard we'll spring those cursed shackles.  Everyone got that?"

She starts moving toward the far door.  "But that...anyone know what's behind that door?"  Her fingers open and close for a long moment, indecisive, then close around cold metal.  "There's a woman.  We need to break her out as well.  Anyone seen a woman come in just recently?"  Her eyes narrow. "Haarmon, I'm not leaving whoever's in there behind."

The Munn's nimble fingers move quickly, counting the bills and dividing them into perfect stacks, while the morose expression on it's face never changes.  Oomba watches in silence as it recounts the final stack.

And then it speaks, enunciating the words slowly and carefully...

"Dre chubassi."

"Oh dear.  The Munn says there is an error in the count." You-Why announces, "I do hope that Oomba knows I was not responsible for any of this."

"Fierfek!" Oomba rumbles angrily, and swings his head, bringing his eye to bear on Rhijans.

"Aja chubassi.  Dre akto dergandi-chiballi forn shibilit."  One long finger pushes the final stack to one side.

"Oh thank goodness!  There is too much money.  Twenty-seven credits too much, to be exact."

In the pen, there is a certain amount of panic among the prisoners, who are all moving away from the sinister door, at least as far as the cages will permit.  "They know you're here!" a voice yells, and the cry is taken up by others...

"We don't know for certain what happens in there.  Nobody from this side ever went through the door.  There must be another way in though, because we hear screams.  Terrible screams!" the captive explains.  "And there's a droid!" a woman adds, "I saw it once.  Black and silver it is."

Haarmon nods his head, in agreement with Shard's statement, though he looks less than happy about the thought of facing a droid that everybody seems to be afraid of...

When You-Why said the count was off, Rhijans felt a chill go through him, but held it to nothing more than arching an eyebrow in surprise that he didn't have to feign at all, though his body stiffened.

When the error was explained as an overage, he relaxed minutely, and gave a little scowl.  "I will have to have some words with my pilot about the importance of mathematics.  I guess it's a good thing the hyperspace jumps aren't being calculated manually," he quipped.  He consciously avoided mentioning Karja's name, or even identifying her specifically enough as one gender or the other...odds were good that Oomba already had some notion of who was flying the ship, because it did have a fairly distinctive look to it, but that didn't mean he had to go flagging her as the pilot.  Not everyone here was friendly to Oomba...his own presence was proof of that, and anything he could do, someone else could likely manage, as well.

"We're good, then, I presume?" he asked, managing to make it very nearly a statement, putting a confidence that he didn't necessarily feel behind his voice.  "I can begin loading my purchase?"  With the amount of credits being exchanged, he didn't feel it would fit the extravagant high-roller persona he was trying to portray to make a fuss over a handful of credits.

Besides, over-paying would actually leave the Hutt mildly indebted to him...he was gambling a bit, as the thought settled in his mind, but he could see it...paying just a little too much was a way of saying, Our organization is enough bigger than yours that we can afford to throw you a few extra scraps.  Oomba could either ignore the gesture, not recognize it as such, make a fuss out of returning the extra credits as a counter-move that said My organization is big enough that I can afford to part with a few extra credits that slipped into your payment...or take offense.

Thus far, the Hutt had been very magnanimous.  For a Hutt.  Rhijans was willing to gamble on a continued display, especially given that he'd presented himself as representing a galaxy-wide organization.  For all the space they did control, the Hutts still weren't that far-spread.

"Keep it down!" Shard snaps, motioning with her free hand.  She rubs her forehead.  All the shouting, the screaming...  "Haarmon, let's take this nice and careful."  Another motion to the crowd of slaves.  "You've got to keep it down, or they'll know something's up.  Just a little longer."

With that, she paces up to the door.  "Can you get this thing open, Haarmon?"  Letting out a breath, Shard struggles to find the place between light and dark, between fire and ice, between calm and fury, that place she has come to think of as the fulcrum on which the two extremes balance.

It's not easy, not with the stress and the noise.

"Jee-jee stuka grancha." Oomba says, with a smirk, and a quivering of flesh that might be a nod.  Then, louder, "Vano!  Moova bu shaga tah jah nek teesaw!"  A burly human stands and replies, "Yes, Oomba, right away." before turning towards the exit.  As he moves across the room, a number of armed men fall in behind him.

You-Why sounds happy as he translates, "He has just given the command to transfer the slaves to your ship."

The Muun walks up to Rhijans, maintaining a respectable distance as he passes Juragga, and hands twenty-seven credits to the grey-skinned man.  "Jinka vokto.  Dergandi-chiballi forn."

In the pit, Haarmon checks the door controls.  The panel looks standard enough, so it should be easy enough to deal with.  The trick is finding a way that will make him look good in front of Shard.

There is another scream from beyond the door, ending abruptly. 

Haarmon makes a decision.  Stepping forward he raises his arm and slams his elbow into the plastic cover on the panel. shattering it.  Quickly he starts switching components about inside.

The door slides open to reveal a darkened space beyond...
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Thu 21 Aug 2014.

Rhijans took the credits with a nod that was almost a bow, and raised his commlink, looking at Oomba, as he triggered it to broadcast to the whole team.  "Prepare to load the cargo and standby for departure," he said, smoothly.

Then he turned back to the protocol droid.  "I'm afraid my Muun is pretty scant.  What did he say?" he asked You-Why, in a low voice.

Haarmon was pretty freaked. Like, really freaked. This whole set-up was sketchy enough as it was. And the nagging sensation that something, something was going to go horribly wrong wouldn't leave him. And then there were the creepy guards. And the screams. And the slaves themselves (he found them just as unsettling as he had he first time he saw them).

But one thing was certain: he was Shard's teammate, and what she wanted, he wanted.

And so, upon opening the door, he stepped back and looked around (again!) for some kind of terminal. If he could switch in, he could really do some good. Right now he was feeling pretty useless.

"He simply said," You-Why explains, "'Your change.  Twenty-seven credits.'"

Oomba's men exit the chamber, heading for the ramp back to the outside.

"Ap-xmasi uba naga stuka shaga koona teesaw?" Oomba's deep voice rumbles. "Oto vopa do pa."  "He wonders if you would like to watch the slaves boarding your ship?  He would want to, in your position."

In the darkness beyond the door, something moves, and a single glowing red optic swings to see who has opened the door.  A gleaming black metal orb moves into the light, hovering almost two metres above the floor.

A number of instruments and implements project from it, mounted on flexible arms, some of them dripping a dark liquid.  The droid chitters, twitters and whirs interrogatively as it advances.  Behind it a shape which was once  human is strapped to a metal framework, the gloom thankfully hiding most of the details.

And beyond that, Haarmon can see the glow of a terminal...

"Why, hello there," Shard whispers, her blood running cold at the sight.  Not of the droid - no, at the sight of what lies beyond it.  Her lips thin, and she nods.  "We're here to inspect our merchandise." Slowly, she breathes out and steps toward the droid.  It's harder than she expected - like reaching out toward a hand-sized spider - but after the first step, the following ones come more easily.

"That wouldn't happen to be one of ours behind you, would it?" the older woman inquires, almost breathlessly, both hands hidden beneath her cloak.  "We've paid good money for these."

Fury meets cold purpose within her.  This isn't revenge; for starters, you can't take 'revenge' on a droid fulfilling its programming.  You can only put it down.  No, she needs to save the people here - save them all, including Wakuda.

Including the tormented being in the torture chamber, if anything is left of it.

As Shard steps forward, Haarmon takes as step back. The scene before him was so completely alien to him, so completely outside of anything he'd ever seen or imagined, his brain was having trouble even processing everything. It came at him in fragments, as though his brain were trying to protect him from the full horror of what was in front of him. A small keening moan escaped his mouth and he noticed, distantly, that he was shaking his head as though to deny it.

As Shard stepped into the room and started talking to the droid, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He imagined what Juragga would say. Never mind the droid, he'd say in his deep rumbling growl, that's not important. Shard is important. The slaves are important.

And Rhijans would just say, Do the job, protect the team. Nothing else matters.

And between the two he managed to open his eyes and start into the room. Not running, but far from walking, aiming to go right past Shard and the (hopefully) distracted droid, toward the terminal.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:50, Mon 25 Aug 2014.

Falling in behind Rhijans, Juragga rumbled a soft query.  Nothing specific, basically a Wookie "What's up?" as he screened their path for trouble.

He hoped Haarmon was okay.  But he was a lot better than he thought he was.  And, he had the Jedi with him.  What could go wrong?

Rhijans turned, with a nod and a (hopefully) gracious bow to Oomba.  "Thank you, yes, I would like to keep an eye on the loading.  There are some very important individuals with high expectations of this delivery, I'd hate for a last minute oversight on my part to complicate the whole business."

He nodded to Juragga as the Wookiee approached, and gesture for You-Why to follow him.  "Let's just hope we don't have any mynocks on the power couplings for this one," he muttered, darkly, as he moved back toward the courtyard.

A nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that Shard and Haarmon hadn't answered his commlink message.  He could only hope it was because they were constructively busy.  The alternatives to that played out into mostly fatal scenarios, in his head, and he wasn't ready to start predicting his own death, just yet...

The droid comes to a halt, the red glowing optic fixed directly on Shard.  Her question produces a string of clicks, whirs and buzzes in answer to her question.  Nothing intelligible.  Which probably means it has simply been torturing the man, not questioning him.

As she steps into the room, off to one side, and previously out of sight, Shard can see Wakuda strapped to another table, and apparently unconscious.  Or dead...

The droid turns slightly as Haarmon moves up behind Shard.  There is an angry-sounding buzz, and a brilliant, actinic spark flares briefly on the tip of one of its appendages. 

Rhijans, Juragga and You-Why do a passable impression of a casual stroll as the three of them exit the room.

"Mynocks?  Where?" the droid asks nervously, "Loathsome creatures.  I despise them."  He pauses to look up at the ceiling as he enters the sloping corridor, then moves quickly to keep up with the other two.

And then he asks two questions that they probably don't want to hear just now...

"Where are our two companions?  Have they been killed?  I have heard that Hutts are sometimes untrustworthy."

Rhijans shook his head minutely, trying to keep his communications to the other two as inscrutable as possible for anyone more than a couple of feet away from the trio.  "Damned if I know...but I doubt they're dead.  Or dead yet, anyway.  If they had done something that would have had Oomba ready to kill them, I don't think he would have been so agreeable about the whole transaction.  Look at how he opted to treat Wakuda, and all she did was back out of bidding and say something disagreeable to him."

That didn't mean that the two weren't currently in the middle of doing something that would rouse Oomba's abundant ire.  But Shard had identified herself as pretty closely connected to Rhijans...he was sure that anything she did that caused trouble here, he'd be assumed to have been part of.  The fact that nobody was trying to shoot him, yet, told him that whatever she was doing was either apparently harmless, or she hadn't been caught at it yet.

"And there she is."  Shard releases one hand from her sleeve and points toward Wakuda.  A line appears between her brows as the droid 'threatens' Haarmon.  "Do not," she flatly states, "even think about touching him."

Her focus has finally settled and she reaches for balance.

The droid apparently doesn't like taking orders from organics.  It swings back towards Shard again, and there is another flash of light.  This one, though, does not come from the droid...

Rhijans, Juragga and You-Why arrive in the yard, close to the ship, just in time to see Vano and the others who were sent out by Oomba, gathering a few more hands to help them wrangle the slaves.  Then they start to head somewhere around the side of the building, presumably to collect Rhijan's purchases...

Rhijans grimaced, inwardly, as he watched Oomba's men...People?  Maybe...  Troops?  He gave a minute shake of his head as he dismissed that one.  Definitely not.  Lackeys?  His lips thinned slightly as he concealed a satisfied grin at that one...

...Oomba's lackeys rounding the corner, heading who-knew-exactly-where.  The silence at the other end of his commlink calls wasn't doing anything to settle the subtle gnawing of anxiety, but he knew that it was sometimes not conducive to answer commlink calls.  Or to receive them...

But the situation was getting disturbing.  "Hope you've got everything in hand on your end," he said into his commlink.  "Our host is sending personnel to help you escort our purchase out to the ship."

If they were in an awkward situation, hopefully that would be innocuous enough.  It would certainly attract less hostile attention that if he'd said, "Hey, hurry up, the bad guys are on their way..."

This was all assuming, of course, that the pair had a live commlink on to receive the message.  He could be providing veiled warnings to empty air, for all he knew...

IT-24 lays on the floor, two perfectly equal hemispheres with fading red edges.  Shard stands over it, a bar of brilliant incandescence crackling and humming in her right hand.  Then it's gone, and the room is dark again.

The only sound is Haarmon's sudden intake of breath, as he reacts, too late, to the flash of light.  And then their commlinks chirp...

Karja appears on the ship's ramp and gives Rhijans a look, and a shrugging, hands-spread gesture which clearly asks, "What's happening?"

Up on the walls, and the roof of the main building the gun turrets sit, weapons still trained idly on the sky.  No alarms yet, so everything must be going according to plan...

Right?

Rhijans glanced up at Karja.  "They're going down to retrieve our new inventory," he said, by way of explanation.  There was a tension in his tone, however, that was at odds with the utterly neutral expression that he was trying to maintain.

No news was still good news, as far as he was concerned.  The problem was, when they finally got bad news--IF they got bad news--it would all come at once.  While he prided himself on his lack of superstition...at least, of any superstition he would admit to, publicly...he decided to try and stay focused on what was going right for them, thus far.  If things were going to go wrong, he wouldn't be any better prepared for them if he started worrying about it now...