Rhijans nodded when Shard asked.  "We need to move out.  Orders to transfer a prisoner, which needs to happen within the next twenty minutes..."  Knowing the helmet didn't allow much for low tones of voice, he wasn't about to explain with the QM relatively close by.  He tried to put some emphasis on the time factor, but how well it translated through the voice filtering on the helmet was anybody's guess.

He let the carry-all down off his shoulder and indicated with it to Juragga.  "Going to need you to carry this, we should need it after we get the prisoner."  His inscrutable nature was amplified by the helmet and armor, but there was a tenseness in his posture that could be interpreted as impatience.  "More explanation when we're out moving.  There isn't time right now."  If he was rattled by the news about Nimadda, it was buried behind the armor and his urgency to action.

The exit from the stores goes surprisingly well-  If the Quartermaster even notices their departure, he chooses to ignore it.  The last thing any of them hear as the door hisses closed behind them is his voice, cut off in mid sentence as he complains to somebody about needing his personnel back...

In fact the complications start when they are about half way to the detention block...

There is an irregular series dull thumps from somewhere, and the artificial gravity wavers for a moment.  A siren starts to sound, and a voice echoes from a public address system.  "Attention.  Attention.  All crew to combat stations."

And what sounds like a distant explosion...

Rhijans glanced at the rest of the team.  "That wasn't mine," he said, his voice oddly flattened by the helmet's filtering.  He held up the datapad with the forged orders that Haarmon had put together.

"We need to hurry, and get Jalt before things get too far out of hand.  I'm guessing the worries that I'll be called to stand in review for inspection just went out the airlock, but the longer we wait, the more likely it is that they're going to reinforce any guards around the detention areas.  Let's get in there before they get a chance.  I'm transferring a prisoner, you're verifying gravity conditions are operational.  Let's go..."

Juragga caterwauled a warning.  I have a bad feeling about this...

"Not yours?"  And here I was about to chide him for improper timing... Shard picks up her pace.  "That means we have another problem on board.  Or outside, opening fire."  Sure, it's someone who has a bone to pick with Imperials, but it's an issue for them, not an assistance.  She claps Juragga on the arm. "I think we all do at this point," Shard agrees.

"And our gear is hidden...in our gear," she mutters, hefting the equipment box.  "Going to be a speedbump if things go worse.  Rhijans, you'll need to deal with any problems that crop up until we get set."

There's no question he's capable, but hopefully those problems won't involve thirty-odd stormtroopers against him.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Mon 20 June 2016.

There are more distant thumps, and as the group hurry towards the detention centre, the deck bucks beneath their feet, making the going a little treacherous.

The public address system still continues to blare out warnings, and orders for people to move to the combat posts.  A squad of stormtroopers go past at the double, heading in the opposite direction.

And then... they're there, the detention block.  There are a lot of troopers about, but most of the stormtroopers seem to be moving out of the area, as Naval security troops take their places.  All eyes are drawn to the ceiling, as another explosion sounds, seemingly directly over head.

The security station is directly ahead, manned by a harrassed-looking officer and a couple of nervous young ensigns...

Rhijans walked up, all business (or as 'business' as he could manage with the deck bucking around like a jittery dewback), and presented the datapad to the officer.  "I have a transfer."  His voice was kept as flat and expressionless as he could manage, while he ran through assorted response scenarios i  his head, trying to decide which response to give, depending on the reaction he got.

The one thing he was banking on was that, as a stormtrooper, he could be uninformed as to the priority of the transfer, or why it was requested.  It was, he calculated, better to say too little than too much.

"Right," Shard whispers.  "Let's keep things non-violent for now, shall we?"  Moving forward, she ducks past Rhijans and sets her case on the ground.  One hand stabs out toward the twitchy youths as their own stormtrooper commands the officer's attention.  "You two.  Have you noticed any fluctuations in the gravetics?" She keeps her tone sharp with concern rather than hard and commanding - fear is their ally, here, and fearful, inexperienced people will respond to a seeming emergency better than an attempt to control.

Flip open the lid of the case, draw out at least one sensor, clip to her belt...she leaves the murder-stick where it is for the moment, and the pistol is under the first tray - inaccessible, but impossible to see.

The two ensigns glance at Juragga, then at their own commander.  That officer seems to be occupied, so their eyes return to Shard-  "No... yes... maybe.  It's hard to tell with everything getting shaken about every few seconds."

"A transfer?  Now?" the officer accepts the datapad and scans it briefly, "Never mind, I don't suppose you know why they want it doing now.  I'll just call through to th eduty officer and check."

There is an explosion somewhere overhead, and the deck seems to tilt about twenty degrees, and doesn't fully level off again.  The commander looks up at the ceiling, muttering something about the duty officer having his hands full.  "Straight along the corrider, tenth door on the left, cell number twenty, is the prisoner, eleventh is his droids."  He points back into the depths of the detention centre...

"Yessir," Rhijans replied crisply.  He'd tensed for a moment at mention of calling the duty officer...he didn't know how thorough Haarmon was in making the fake transfers, but he was guessing it hadn't gone that far.  He was relieved that it hadn't come down to shooting the detention area crew...not that he felt any reluctance for it, but there were still other troops in the area and weapons firing had a distinctive sound that could bring them running, battle-stations call or no.

He proceede down the corridor, still alert as the armor would allow him to be...there could be other guards on duty and he didn't need them hearing him call Jalt or the droids by name.  In his head, he counted off doors as he passed, until he came to the tenth door on his left.  He triggered the release, wordlessly...he wasn't saying anything until he was sure it was clear to speak.

About to reply, Shard finds herself fighting for balance.  She doesn't try hard, instead searching for something to grab - realism first, and a tech might not be all that physically apt. "Well, that's it," she growls.  "We're losing gravity here, as well.  Take hold, you two."  That fired at Haarmon and Juragga.

Hooking a foot around the tool case, she draws it close.  "Has it been this bad before?" the older woman shoots at the recruits.  Then her voice lowers, and she leans forward slightly.  "And...what's going on?  Have either of you heard anything?" Her lips twist in a grimace. "They have me running all over this ship, and...it's a big ship."

The commander braces himself against the edge of a console and watches as Rhijans moves deeper into the cell block.  Behind the officer, Shard is talking to the ensigns.

"We're under attack, of course.  The commander put in a call a little while before you got here.  Was told that there are Rebel ships swarming around us, shooting at whatever they think they can hit."

Rhijans opens the cell door, and sees Reldan Jalt sitting on the floor.  "Have you come to take me to talk to someone again?  I told the last officer, I wasn't up to anything.  I was flying erratically because my ship's a mess, guidance is shot to hell and back, astrogation computer's fouling up course plots, and the autobar won't serve anything stronger than water."

"That's all."

"And what's all that noise?"

Rhijans said, with an edge of something suspiciously close to humor in his voice (although who knows how well it filtered through the helmet), "If you think the Bantha was a mess before, you REALLY don't want to know what Haarmon did with it to get us out safely.  We've got a mission to finish, the fleet is attacking and they've got the Colonel aboard.  I've got another suit of armor slung over Juragga's back in a carry-all for you,...unless you want to wait here and answer more inane Imperial questions, that is."  He paused just a moment, then added, "If you do, I hope you don't mind if we take the droids.  They could really be helpful."

All of this was said at a conversational level, standing at the doorway, without removing the helmet or in any way adjusting his body language...even if there wasn't audio surveillance (and there likely was, Rhijans was sure), there would almost definitely be video, and quite possibly someone watching it.  He didn't want to give them away too soon.

Haarmon followed the merry crew, keeping to himself, trying to keep an eye everywhere, painfully aware that, disconnected from a terminal, he was pretty much glorified 'trooper bait. He didn't even HAVE a blaster close enough to make use of.

He stood outside the cell, trying to look impassive. He really wanted to plug in and find out what was happening out there. But first Jalt.

"Rebels?" Shard snaps.  "What do they have out there, cruisers?  Heavy cruisers?" She waves a hand at the walls.  "This is a Star Destroyer, how could they be doing this much damage?"  She shakes her head.  "Never mind.  We all have our jobs, so best you get back to yours.  I'll get the information my commander wants me to get, when he wants me to get it.  I'll get out of your hair and start checking around."

She offers both...youths, nearly, a tight smile and a short salute.  "Good luck, sirs."

Poor bastards.  Probably fed propaganda all their lives and don't know a thing about the truth.

"Juragga.  With me." Shard moves to the door - along whatever handholds she can find - and begins rooting around in the top of the equipment case, where one cannot see anything that looks like a blaster.  Oh, there's her scuffed and scratched tool, but to the uninitiated it like nothing more than that.

Certainly not an antique weapon of a fallen, 'noble' order.

Jalt's face cracks into a grin.  "Ah, that old ploy, is it?  Do you have a spare blaster on you?  There should be some Impies at the control desk that need to be taken out so I can walk out of...  Wait...  Kourene is here.  Oh, that's not good."

"I heard somebody mention Ghea Nimadda a while ago.  I don't think we want her and the Colonel in the same place."

"These Rebels seem to have a good idea of the layout of this ship.  From the way they're knocking us about, they know exactly where to hit."  The two ensigns go back to work as the officer in charge of the detention block wheels around to glare at them.  Then he turns his attention to Shard, Juragga and Haarmon, and gives them a get on with your job look.

And at that point there is another explosion, the loudest yet, somewhere not too far away.  The deck cants sharply, and multiple alarms start sounding...

Rhijans reached out to stabilize himself against the doorframe.  "Shouldn't need to shoot your way out.  We have a prisoner transfer for you and the droids...thanks to the chaos, it barely got a second look.  We can get clear and gear you up and then see about retrieving the Colonel."

He paused, and added, "And, yes...Nimadda is here.  The longer we take, the better chances are that she realizes someone's aboard and counters us.  So, whenever you're ready, we should go...

"Sure." Jalt says with a nod, "Just give me twenty minutes, thirty tops, to pack a few things."  He looks around the cell, snatches up a jacket that lays on the bunk, and starts to pull it on.  "No, I'm good.  Let's go."

The pilot starts towards the door, as Rhijans falls in behind him.

"Hot void," Shard snaps. "Juragga - c'mere and grab the gear, we're not going to be able to get anything done here!  The grav systems are going completely - we need to get to G-34!"  She shoots a look at the Imperials in the room, including the commander.  "I strong suggest not straying too far from any kind of take-hold.  Sirs."

Rhijans, come on.  Get Jalt OUT of there!

Leaning over, she speaks to Haarmon; there's no real point in dropping her voice, what with the alarms going off everywhere, and it would look suspicious besides.  "Haarmon, did we get word on where to find You-Why?"  For starters, he's a member of the team.  For another....

If there's one person I don't want swearing eternal vengeance upon me for being betrayed - other than Rhijans - it's You-Why.

Void, he scares me sometimes.

Hoping he wouldn't have to repeat all the explanations, Rhijans stopped at the next cell, where the droids were supposed to be, and triggered the door, again waiting to see who was actually in the cell before saying anything.

R2-O0 whistles franticly and charges at Rhijans, before stopping short and swerving towards Reldan.

"Hey R2, how'vw they been treating you?"  The droid replies with a long string of electronic sounds, and You-Why provides more information in a clearer manner, "Oh Sir, it was terrible.  He has been fitted with a restraining bolt.  Although, in all honesty, they only did it because he kept ramming into their legs."

"Well done R2.  As soon as I can find a tool kit, we'll get rid of that bolt."

You-Why glances at Rhijans, then says to Reldan, "Sir... is it wise to speak like that in our present company?"

Outside, Shard, Juragga and Haarmon move away from the control desk, as a series of explosions vibrate the deck plates.  The air now contains acrid traces of smoke, and the detention centre seems to be growing warm.

There's a fire, and not too far away...

Inside the helmet, Rhijans permitted himself a rare grin.  "We have a mission to complete.  Apparently, word got to the Fleet that the Colonel is aboard...so that part of our orders is moot.  But we need to get him out of detention, back to the Bantha, and away from here."

He angled his head down, and to the side, so he could see Jalt's R2 unit.  "Now, if you can fight down the impulse to try and run over anything in an Imperial uniform, we have work to do."

"There's a fire," Shard laconically states.  "Outstanding."  Her observation is heavy with irony; were this any other situation, she'd be rejoicing at the destruction of an Imperial Star Destroyer, but right now is the worst possible time for the Rebellion to gain a major victory by annihilating one of its enemy's capital ships.

The cursed murderstick now hangs at her belt.  The blasters are within easy reach.  None of this things well help with a fire, and Shard glances around in search of a portable emergency extinguisher.  It's an Imperial vessel, they'll have one somewhere.

OOC - Yes, looking around for a fire extinguisher.  :)

The Artoo unit gives a noncommittal whistle, and starts towards the door...

Shard, meanwhile, is looking around.  She spots a wall panel with various emergency markings, and a stylised image of a fire being suppressed.  Opening it reveals two small fire extinguishers, and a quick inspection shows that the seals are intact - they haven't been used, so they should be full.

Looking along the passageway, it can be seen that there are now two open cells...

Rhijans jerked his helmeted head in the direction of the detention control center, and his voice dropped into a reasonable approximation of the detached tone stormtroopers seemed to favor..."All right, let's go..." he said.

The thought dawned on him...it just might be far enough out of the ordinary that a lone trooper would be assigned to escort a trio of prisoners.  He wasn't familiar with the exact protocols...but the logical thing would be one to lead, and one to bring up the rear.

He nodded quickly to himself, settling almost immediately on a course of action if the question came up, and started back toward the trio of Imperial officers.  If none of them said anything, he wouldn't address the issue...but he was ready, if they did.

Ready-ish, at least...