Juragga stood ready to give his life protecting his friends, muscles clenched.

Haarmon gave the bins a close, squinty-eyed look. His mouth worked back and forth in thought. He might not be able to Slice these guys open, but those serial numbers were almost certainly stored somewhere reasonably accessible.

"Lemme see what I can see here, Cap."

He looked for a wall terminal and started tapping.

"And if this doesn't work out, we could always go shake down the Inventory Twins out there."

OOC: Rolled 19 for Network Investigation (figure out what the serial numbers mean). And then we'll try popping a few open via Slicing. Rolled a 29 for Network Security. If that's not possible, I'll try jimmyrigging them open. Rolled a 9 for Security.

Please, please, please let the slicing work. :p
This message was last edited by the player at 13:31, Mon 30 May 2016.

Rhijans scowled at the bins...it made sense, given the faceless, bulk approach to much of what the Empire did, that they would use generic, featureless bins for storing equipment.  It was, in fact, the same kind of mindset he was planning to exploit, using the armor to move around on the ship.

For now, however, he had to wait for the results of Haarmon's efforts, to get any idea of what was in which bins...and, hopegully, to access them.

At the moment, there's not a whole lot Shard can do.  At the moment.  So she stays with Juragga, keeping to the official story of being his 'handler', and continues to leave her senses open.

If Nimadda is aboard, it's faintly possible she might manage to feel a spiritual malaise - an eddy, a breeze, a coldness or heat.  Something different.  Powerful people make waves, and there's no doubt Nimadda is someone of strength.

If there's a wasp in the room, Shard wants to know.

Haarmon starts working on a nearby terminal.  The information he's after is all there and (relatively) easy to get at, once he's bypassed the security protocols by using the low priority sanitation control subroutines as a back door into the system.  The screen starts to fill with serial numbers and item designations. 

Shard, meanwhile, stands close to Juragga, while he stands watch over Haarmon... 

Rhijans gives Haarmon room to work, and keeps an eye on the door, just in case somebody decides they need to come in here for anything...

After a long moment, Shard shakes her head.  "Good news and bad.  Bad news is, Nimadda has been here.  Or maybe is now.  Good news is, she's not headed this way, ten feet tall and aflame.*"  Lips pressed together, she shoots a quick look 'up front' to see if the techs are on their way back or, more likely, their annoyed supervisor.

The older woman purses her lips again.  "If we keep our heads down until the last minute, we should be able to avoid her notice.  Should." Her voice drops, slightly.  "Don't...try anything, Haarmon.  Get me?" It could sound harsh.  It doesn't; her tone echoes worry, not criticism.

* Sorry GM, I couldn't bring myself to write the full quote.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:30, Mon 30 May 2016.

Rhijans listened to Shard's explanation impassively.  While he knew, intellectually, that there was a Force, of some kind, it was hard to dismiss a lifetime of culturally-enforced skepticism.  For now, he satisfied himself that she was right that Nimadda wasn't there and wasn't coming...and waited, with forced patience, for Haarmon to provide some insights on which of the multitude of storage bins held what he wanted.

As if on cue, Haarmon nodded decisively and stood up and held out a datapad with columns of numbers neatly sorted. "Got your numbers here. Armour all there at the top. But scroll down there and there's a pile of other stuff. Medkits. Ration bars. Rope. It's a Stormtrooper buffet."

Once the datapad was out of his hands he immediately, and (amazingly) quietly started applying himself to the locks.

Rhijans took the datapad, looking through the bins until he found one that matched with the armor.  "This one," he said, putting a small piece of equipment on top to mark it.  He scrolled through the list, looking for blaster power pack or demolition charges or grenades...anything along those lines...and then located a corresponding bin.

Rhijans scans through the list, noting the contents in passing - individual sections of trooper armour, undersuits, blaster power cells, demo charges, first aid supplies, spools of rappelling cable, ration bars, communicators... basically any piece of gear that a stormtrooper might need replacing in the course of his duty...

He goes through the rows of bins, marking the ones he's interested in, while Haarmon follows, using his portable console to enter the right access codes from his own list.  As if by magic the indicators on the locks switch from red to green.

From the direction of the office, the Quartermaster's voice can be heard talking loudly to somebody.  While the individual words are indistinct, his general tone of voice sounds unhappy...

Haarmon snapped up from his easy, confident crouch. His heart froze up in his chest and his eyes went wide. He barely resisted the urge to go hide behind Juragga. Not that it would be the first time. Or the last.

He looked around at the others, gauging their reaction.

"Keep going," Shard mutters to Haarmon.  "We'll deal with it if need be.  In fact...Juragga, let's go head this off.  But start quietly - for all we know, he's honked about a shipment being late."

That said, she slips forward - not sneaking, but keeping things as quiet as possible without so doing.  Cocking her head, Shard struggles to listen in on the distant nattering, hoping to catch some of the subject of the quartermaster's ire.

As Shard and Juragga move back towards the office, Rhijans starts opening the bins that Haarmon had unlocked.  As with everything else they do, it seems that the Imperials apply a certain ruthless efficiency to their  equipment storage.  All of the bins contain exactly what they're supposed to.

The Quartermaster, meanwhile seems less than pleased about something, "No, that won't do at all.  I'm working with a skeleton crew just now, since half my team was temporarily transferred.  And to make matters worse, now I have a maintenance crew working on the environmental systems in here.  That's right, somebody up in ShipOps decided that there's a fault down here that's about to trigger some kind of failure, even though my panel doesn't show anything."

Juragga rumbled a caution to Dak - "Be careful" - and then flanked The Jedi as she went towards the problem.  He had NO problem following her lead, considering her both wiser and calmer than himself.

Rhijans noticed both Shard and Juragga moving in the direction of the Quartermaster's Office...and decided to stay focused on the task at hand.  They were both highly competent...

He selected an appropriate bin, pulling it out and rapidly getting into the stormtrooper armor inside (or doing it as rapidly as could be managed, at any rate.  The stuff was not made to get into quickly...)  If he could manage to get into it before things went sideways with Shard and Juragga, he might be able to stall things a little more effectively...

Those thoughts went to the back of his mind, however, for the time being.  They needed to get stuff moving and that meant he needed to be in armor to facilitate the process.  So, that was priority one.  But it didn't stop him from keeping an ear out for the presence of any obstacles to their mission that might pop up.

Talking with a higher-up?  Maybe...or maybe someone on his level.  It doesn't sound like the sort of deference one would expect from an Impy to his superior.

...or maybe quartermasters are the same all over.

"So far, so good," she cautions quietly.  "He's honked off, but not barking about sending in the troops.  Sounds like a man irritated about scheduling and work, rather than suspicious.  But...half his team transferred?"  Her eyes narrow.  "Why?"

Shard closes her eyes for a moment, then presses her lips together.  "Right.  Time to take a chance.  Let's go, Juragga - we're going to try to make a friend."

Striding forward, the older woman waves a hand for the man's attention.  "Hey.  They don't need both of us back there, and I couldn't help but catch that last.  Listen...we can give you a hand with something." One thumb jerks back toward Juragga.  "He's pretty good with the heavy lifting."

OOC - If I need to make a persuade roll, I'll go for that.

Haarmon watched Shard and Rags go to work with both pride and anxiety. She had guts to walk out there like that and start in with the guy. And he watched Rhijans do his thing. It was odd and awkward to be the room alone with the grey-skinned man. He felt like maybe he should say something. But he didn't want to distract him. Or look like an idiot.

So he stayed on the terminal and took the moment to get into as many subsystems as he could. Never know when you might need to shut off some lights. Or lock a door. Or blow up some toilets.

The Quartermaster looks up at Shard, then further up, at Juragga.  And his face suddenly breaks into a small, tight-lipped smile.  "Thank you.  That's very helpful.  There's no heavy lifting to be done, but if you could each take three or four of these datapads and start to work your way through the lists of requests they contain, as quickly as possible, that would be very useful."

"I assume that you are both fully trained and certified on the IMCR-756 management system, know how to process requisitions and make inventory adjustments, and can each handle the work of a half dozen qualified operators?  Because that's what I need right now, since half my team were pulled away to work at the main stores."

He pushes himself to his feet and points at one wall of his office.  "And to make matters worse, the stormtrooper commander is expecting his troops to be inspected in about fifteen minutes, by Ghea Nimadda herself.  Knowing my luck, she'll decide that these stores are part of the stormtrooper force, and decide to take a look in here as well."

Out in the stores, Rhijans finally gets the armour on, all except the helmet, which he leaves off while he listens to what's happening with Shard and Juragga.  The Imperial seems to have some major problems brewing.  It would probably be really bad if somebody made them worse...

Haarmon, meanwhile, has catalogued any number of ways that he, personally, could make the Quartermaster's problems worse...

Rhijans reached into the toolbox they'd brought in, pulling out one of the demolition charges.  He considered options...and decided on a timer.  There were chances...several chances...that a remore trigger could be blocked or scrambled...or that a stray signal amidst all the traffic on the Star Destroyer might trigger the charge early.

He did some mental math...inspection in fifteen...add a few minutes for looking at the troops, and possibly walking in here...he set the timer for 22 minutes, quietly lifted enough blaster power packs out of their bin into the one he'd just emptied to create space for the charge, and nestled it in the bin, making sure that bin had a spot next to a bin of grenades.  The Quartermaster was going to have a VERY bad day...and if they were lucky, so was Nimadda.  He didn't start the timer, just yet...

"Can we whip up prisoner transfer orders for Jalt?" he asked Haarmon, quietly.  If it was an option, he'd try and grab another armor suit for the pilot.  They'd need some kind of duffel or crate to transport it innocuously...he was quite certain walking around with a QM bin would raise eyebrows.

Haarmon nodded and immediately started into a second set of subroutines, leaving as many of the first batch active as he could. Prisoner transfers were harder, but by no means impossible. Often enough, it was faster, easier, and more effective to tart up something that LOOKED like a transfer order, rather than dig into the heavily defended data and create one. Especially when you were on a countdown.

And for Imperial orders, that was mainly a matter of getting all the designation serials right enough so as not to arouse suspicion on a cursory glance. Maybe stick something into a few easily accessible timetables.

"Yeah, I think I can," he said, his voice tight with concentration. "Might not stand up to serious scrutiny, but..."

He handed Rhijans a datapad. "With a little fast-talk and some soft-shoe? Should be close enough for government work. So to speak."

Forgery(Networks): 15:01, Today: Haarmon Dak rolled 28 using 6 dice with the WEG Classic system ((1,5,2,4,2,{Wild}6(+6+2))).
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Sat 11 June 2016.

Rhijans looked over the datapad briefly...he wasn't familiar with all the protocols used on internal Imperial orders, but it certainly had an appropriate amount of Imperial officiousness.  He nodded, with a grim smile.

"This should get us Jalt...means we should luberate another set of armor and something to carry it in..."  He looked atthe first datapad Dak had given him, scrolling through the list until he found some kind of personal duffel or heavy gear bag...Something with the capacity to hold an entire stormtrooper kit.

"While I load this up, I need you to create some excuse for us to get into Kourene's detention area...or something to get you, Shard, and Juragga in there...Jalt and I can be passed off as extra personnel sent to make sure high-priority prisoners weren't at risk."  He spoke in a low, terse voice, which shouldn't have carried beyond the room.  He found the apprpriate bins for the bag, armor, and a few extra grenades and a pair of standard-issue Imperial heavy blasters.

"Open these first, then you can set that up while I load up the armor.  Juragga will need to carry it...it would be too bulky and attract too much attention on anyone else."  He gave the closest thing to a genuine smile that he'd mustered in ages, still tinged with a grim edge, and nodded at Haarmon.

"As for what kind of excuse...I'll leave it to you to find something accessible and appropriate.  Just, probably...not another sewage backup."  His voice sounded suspiciously like a chuckle as he added the last comment.

Shard holds up her hands.  "All right.  Point made.  I apologize for the mess, and I know it's coming at the worst possible time.  We just get our orders.  Just like you with your team getting yanked out from under you."

She rubs her forehead.  "My people are working their tails off back there to get things done as quickly as possible.  We'll try to get things shipshape so that you can make a good showing of things if herself comes down here.  I doubt she has a lot of experience with this kind of work, so as long as people are looking busy and everything appears tidy...but a thermal regulator issue might end up being really obvious."

Her voice lowers, taking on a worried tone.  "Like...coolant escape into some officer's face during inspection sort of obvious.  I don't think anyone wants that."

Inside, she's quietly gibbering in terror, so it's not difficult to put that concern into her words. She's here.  She's here, and going to be here.  Maybe.

We need to move.

Hot void, but her throat is parched...and yet, the idea of getting a drink doesn't dance anywhere near her mind.  For one, weaning herself off the stuff has had an effect.  For another...sometimes there's just too much edge for cheap liquor to dull, and the brain knows it.

Rhijans and haarmon continue working, while Shard tries to keep the Quartermaster calm, and out of the way.

The 'trooper armour goes into a large carryall, and a demolition charge goes into a bin with a sizeable quantity of new "playmates".

Haarmon's prisoner transfer for Jalt looks official, with long strings of authorisation codes.  Detailed movement orders, expected time of the move and personnel assigned.  It even mentions the droids, which are to be moved at the same time.  All very precise, and just dull enough that nobody would look to closely, with any luck.

Which just leaves the matter of getting to Kourene...

The Quarternmaster seems about to respond.  Then Shard's mention of a potential coolant leak percolates through his conciousness, and he glances in the direction of Haarmon and Rhijans (who, fortunately, cannot be seen from his office).  "Very well.  Just do the job as quickly and thoroughly as possible.  And try not to leave the area looking as if there's been an explosion."

Once Rhijans had the additional armor packed up, he closed up the bins, pausing long enough to start the timer on the demolition charge before sealing that one back up.  "Okay...twenty-two minutes and counting.  Let's hope we've at least got Jalt back with us by then, otherwise I suspect getting him is going to get a LOT trickier..."  He raised the helmet, pausing just before he put it on his head.

"Button everything up, good as new...let's give them no reason to think there's any need to clean up after us, until there really is a need..."  He settled the helmet in place, made sure the blaster was riding securely in its holster, and shouldered the carry-all, moving toward the door.  With a little luck, he could slip out of the room and up behind Shard and Juragga without the QM noticing him, and act like he had been dispatched to retrieve the team to handle some other pressing issue.  And, hopefully, the QM wouldn't notice that the team of four that had come in was a team of three, leaving.

If he did...well, there were ways to deal with that, too.

"Understood.  And leaving the place in one piece is the point," Shard agrees as she slowly moves back.  "Come on, you," the older woman mutters, poking Juragga (harmlessly) with one finger.  It's likely the Wookie barely feels the assault.

Marching back, she pauses, studying the trooper.  Well, Haarmon is here, Rhijans is not, therefore..."Rhijans?" she inquires carefully, straightening somewhat.  One never knows; Rhijans could have ducked out, this one could have walked in...somehow....

Assuming she gets an affirmative, Shard slips closer, abandoning her casual stance.  "Nimadda is here," she hisses.  "And better yet, she's conducting a Stormtrooper inspection in a quarter hour or so.  That means a whole bunch of things, the first of which being that she might actually come here, that is RIGHT void-cursed here, to look at the stores!"

Pausing to avoid hyperventilation, the older woman continues.  "Good news: that means a lot of the troopers might be off-post and standing in the bay all ranked up looking to put on a nice show.  Bad news: people might wonder what you're doing walking around.  Cursed bad news: Nimadda might bump into you and decide you're up for inspection, so I cursed well hope you are!" 

All this said sotto voce.