"Then it's probably best for us to stay out of it, and let Nuq Clade handle it on their own.  They know these things and have some idea of how to deal with them...it's entirely possible that we could try to help and just make things much worse..."  He was, apparently, reacting to Haarmon's question and the droid's answer...but with the open commlink to the ship, his words were meant for more than the ears (or audio receptors) of those in the room with him.

"We could potentially hurt or frighten it and send it into a frenzy...and who knows what kind of destruction it could cause in that state..."

Irritation spikes in Shard; she quashes it, knowing that in her state of mind it might lead her down an uncomfortable path. ++ Copy that, ++ the older woman replies to Rhijans oblique instructions.  A flick of the finger switches off the 'send' function of her com, and she shouts to Juragga.  "Looks like we're not supposed to get into it, if possible."

Oh, it's sound reasoning all right.  The best choice.  Even so...  "Curse it," Shard murmurs, settling herself down in the seat to at least bear witness.

Then a though occurs to her.

Placing down the macrobinocs, she checks the boards, hunting for any sign that the ship has been breached during their inattention.  Even as Shard does, though, her mind begins its search for the balance point.

The discussion seems to be over, and the advisors move away to tend to whatever tasks, if any, have been assigned them.

Nuq Neq Tchoq studies the group of visitors before him.  Finally he speaks again...

"Nuq Neq Tchoq says that payment for delivering the shipment will be 75,000 Imperial Credits... Is something wrong?"

Jalt appears to be choking.  "No, no." the pilot gasps.

"Would you like a drink of water?"

"No.  I'm all right." Jalt beckons Rhijans and Haarmon over to him.  "We just need to talk."

Juragga resumes watching the (apparently) unsuccessful hunting expedition, while remaining in a state of readiness to provide covering fire to his companions, should things go shi-shok shaped...

Even Rhijans' perpetual facade nearly cracked at the sum.  He nodded when Jalt requested a conference, wondering just what in the world would be that valuable in a quantity small enough to fit on the Bantha.  He was pretty sure that was more than enough to buy a ship, much less fix up the Bantha.

When they had moved aside, he said, in a low growl, "I'd say they're making it sound suspiciously easy for that kind of payment...except we don't know what it is, or where it's going, so there's no knowing how difficult it's gonna be."  He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, pondering the situation as the others made their initial assessments.

"Exactly.  I can't think of a legal cargo that would fetch that big a payment unless it was in a lot big enough to fill the hold." Jalt says quietly.

"Now I get that he has security concerns, so he'd rather not reveal too much, but I really don't like this.  It's supposed to be legal and simple, but that's a void cursed lot of money for a blue milk run.  And the worst of it is that's only our cut of what this is supposed to be worth.  Which makes the 'legal and safe' story seem that little bit more unlikely."

"Not liking this one little bit."

Haarmon nodded.

"And, look, they could have told us 10,000 credits and we'd have nodded and smiled and been on our way. But they didn't. They knew that would waggle our wattles and they said it anyway. So. Probably however this blue milk is gonne be sour enough to stink from another system."

If it was him, he'd say walk away.

But did they have a choice?

Rhijans decided to voice a thought which the other two appeared to be thinking, but didn't say.  "However, them having told us this much means they would likely be highly reluctant to just let us say, 'Sorry, too risky for us,' and walk away."  His voice had a grim edge, which grew even darker as he continued, "They need a ship...desperately, enough to offer an insanely large payment.  We've got one.  And they know, right now, that the crew is down three bodies...they still don't know exactly how many of us there are, but a sharp-eyed observer would know there's still Shard and Juragga aboard."

He paused to glance surreptitiously at the crowd.  "If they're THAT desperate for a ship, who's to say they wouldn't try to take the ship if we reject the offer?  With this many people, there's good odds they've got at least one pilot...maybe not a good one, but again, they're desperate."

He paused to let that all sink in for a moment, before adding, "I'm not saying we should say yes...but we really need to decide, carefully, if we can afford to say no."  His end of the discussion, at least, was audible back at the ship, via the open commlink.  His voice, in the room, was low, something just above a harsh whisper.

Back on the ship, hearing Rhijans' concerns, Juragga kept the turret warmed up and ready.  He gave a low growl of foreboding to Shard.

I have a bad feeling about this.

"Agreed." Shard replies to Juragga.  "Something isn't right here.  The whole deal feels wrong."

Jalt frowns.  "Too many unknowns for me.  Without knowing where we're going I'm not sure I want to take the job.  The Bantha needs repairs before she can go anywhere, and depending on how easy it is to find what she needs, and how far we need to go qith this load, we could end up going over his time limit."

"On the other hand, turning the job down might upset them."

There is a dull thump, and something small and spherical lands in the dust in the middle of the room, right in front of Nuq Neq Tchoq.  There is a whining sound, rising rapidly in pitch...

"My goodness!  A thermal detonator!" exclaims F-2P0...

"Agreed." Shard replies to Juragga.  "Something isn't right here.  The whole deal feels wrong."

Pursing her lips, the older woman considers Rhijans' point...and Juragga's opinion.  "You're right, Juragga...and so is Rhinjas.  We're caught, here.  I'm good with the team's idea of what's up with what's going on, and we need to..."

There comes a pause.

"On that note," Shard states, "we should get ready for people to try to take the ship.  Stay in the guns, Juragga.  I can keep this ship in the air, if we really need it."

Rhijans turned, without a moment's debate or hesitation, and grabbed both Haarmon and Jalt, pushing them down behind cover, with himself between them and the blast just in case the cover wasn't enough.  After they were down, he allowed himself the luxury of debating whether it was smarter to duck and cover, or if he should have gone for the detonator to see if he could deactivate it...

But detonators were notoriously temperamental...it was one of the reasons they weren't military issue--too unpredictable.  And that meant that there was no way of knowing if he'd have had time to switch it off before it spread pieces of him all over Nuq Neq Tchoq's throne room (or whatever he called this space....)

The detonator explodes, filling the room with dust and smoke, and the area immediately around it with fragments of flying debris.  Fortunately Rhijans trained reflexes had managed to reduce the effect of the latter on the party, though the crate they had ducked behind will likely never be useable again.  Hard to be certain though, because visibility is so poor...

The room seems oddly quiet.  You'd expect there to be some cries of pain from the injured... 

Jalt is looking about, slowly clambering to his feet, and shaking his head.  And he appears to be coughing.  Silently...

Shard and Juragga, meanwhile, are still unable to detect any threats to the Bantha...

Rhijans instinctively reached for his blaster as he looked around the room.  There were only a handful of reasons anyone would throw a detonator in the room...and in his mind, the primary reason was to take down as many people as possible and disorient the rest, before coming in to attack.  It's what he would have done...

With his other hand, he first cupped his ear, trying to notice any change in the sound, then rubbed at it.  It wasn't likely to hasten recovery of his hearing, but it seemed to provide some relief from the discomfort.  All the while, his eyes searched the room, lookingfor another attack and making a tactical assessment of the situation.

The room is still thick with smoke, though it is starting to clear, which is more than can be said for the acrid, eye stinging stench.  Flames are faintly visible in the smoky gloom.

Noise is still deadened - muffled and flat sounding. 

Somebody is screaming.  At least two or three people.

Tactically, the situation was terrible.  Too many potential access points, too many unfamiliar people and shapes.  "Go!" Rhijans directed, pushing Jalt and Haarmon toward a doorway...he thought it was the way out, but he was still somewhat disoriented from the blast.  He kept his eyes moving, his blaster ready to draw and fire at any perceived threat.  He could barely hear his own voice, even through the resonance in his own head.

This was, presumably, not their fight, and he had no interest in getting sucked into it.  They hadn't felt good about the offer...this gave them a good way to get clear of the deal with minimal additional risk.  Once they were out, they could re-evaluate.  But right now, he needed to get the other two out...or at least to a more defensible position.

Haarmon kept shaking his head to try and clear the blockage in his ears. And every shake was accompanied by sickening vertigo and his stomach roiling and rumbling. His head felt heavy. It felt like he was thinking through mud. But when Rhijans pushed him, he got the message.

He didn't question. Out in the field, Rhijans (and Shard) were the boss.

He grabbed Jalt and push-pulled him in the direction Rhijans pointed. He hoped it was the way all-the-way-out, but right now he'd even take out-of-this-room.

On the way he kept an eye out for the droid. If he was near-enough to hand, maybe he'd grab him up too. He liked the little guy.

As it turns out, Rhijans is partly right.

Disorientation means that the trio find themselves standing on the edge of a blast crater.  On the plus side, the ramp that they descended to get into this room is close by, and still looks to be intact.

Noises are becoming more distinct now.  The down side of that is that the groans and screams of pain are clearer.

An eddy in the smoke reveals the broken and charred body of Nuq Neq Tchoq slumped on his throne.  Oddly, he appears to still be moving feebly and, presumably, alive.  His condition is hard to assess in more detail, swathed as he is in burnt rags.

The fact that he is moving means that he is probably in better condition than F-2P0.  The droid's shattered torso is in the crater.  Unlike his limbs, his head is still attached...

From somewhere above comes the sound of another explosion, and burning debris falls, casting a lurid reddish light through the smoke...

From the ship, Shard and Juragga see a moderately large explosion suddenly blow out a wall on one of the upper levels of the structure where their companions are currently supposed to be attending a meeting...

"GROWWWWWWWWWRRRR!!!" Juragga cried, alarmed, his teal eyes wide.

Rhijans' expression hardened in an inscrutable mask as he saw what was left of their would-be employer...and his interpreter.  He looked for a moment longer than was strictly necessary...then turned away.

"Well, so much for the job..." The words were barely more than a muddled series of sounds...but at least he could tell it was his own voice.  That much was an improvement.

He turned Jalt and Dak to face him.  "Time to go," he said, speaking slowly and clearly (and hopefully, not too loudly, but he wasn't sure--although he was making a conscious effort to not speak loudly...which could have meant that he was barely making any noise at all, and not realizing it).  He gestured in the direction he thought was the exit.  "Back to the ship!"  He had no idea if his commlink was still operable...considering his hearing, there was likely some kind of overload to it, a burned-out audio sensor or something...but if it was working, his words would give Shard and Juragga a heads-up that they were coming out.

As the trio make their way back up to the exit, the dust in the air gets thicker.  At the same time the air itself gets warmer and brighter.  The cause ot this is easy to find... something is burning down below, so it's probably a good idea that they're heading for what Rhijans thinks is the way out...

But from somewhere ahead there is an ongoing series of bangs - quieter than a thermal detonator, but louder than a firecracker.  Almost like somebody using a hammer to lock down self-sealing stem bolts.  A series of bright flashes can be seen through the dust and smoke... 

Before Shard and Juragga's eyes, a dense plume of dirty grey smoke, streaked with brownish-yellow, is rising from the top of the distant building.  It looks like something is burning up there...

"ROOOOOWWWRRRR!!"  Juragga commented, alarmed. Should we lift off?  Go to the rescue? He asked Shard.  He stayed at his turret, keeping the sights trained on the area, just in case...

Rhijans reached out, recognizing the flashes...even the distinctive 'crack' was recognizalbe through the haze of his hearing.  He grabbed both Jalt and Haarmon by the back of the shirt, pulling on them to slow them down.  "Exit's blocked...they're having some kind of firefight with slugthrowers.  Odds are really good anyone who tries to go through there is going to end up with a few extra holes in them, and probably not anywhere useful."  He scowled, in a rare, genuine show of emotion, as he looked around what he could see of the building.

"We need another exit..."  He looked around, hoping to find an exterior wall that didn't have someone huddled against it...given their unstable nature, he'd been lucky that the blast from the thermal detonator hadn't triggered his...one he carried as a weapon of last resort, more to make sure he didn't end up an Imperial prisoner than anything else.  But right now, it looked like a good way to make an uncontested exit, if they could find an appropriate wall...

Shard's mouth drops open.  Not silently, however; what issues forth is a string of expletives.  "Juragga, if you know any pre-flight checks, better get up here and start 'em!"  After a moment, she reconsiders.  "No, stay in the guns!"

Gritting her teeth, she struggles with a decision.  Go try to help?  Far away, and it would leave the ship unprotected.  Trust the people on the ground; that's her normal watch-word.  Her job, Juragga's job, is to hold the ship.But her mind still wars; if she holds the ship and they die, what use is that?

She triggers the com-link.

++ Rhijans, Harmon, Jalt?  Anyone? ++

Juragga stands up in a rush and bangs his head.  Then turns and smacks himself with the chair as the order to preflight is countermanded.  He sits back in the gunner's chair and jams his toe.

Some days, it sucks to be a Wookiee in a human ship...

Haarmon took the moment that Rhijans was spending looking for another exit to close his eyes and concentrate, to try to find that balancing point Shard was always on about. To reach out through the, well not through the air, but through the thing behind the air. The thing that <i>was </i>the air.

Kinda.

Alive. Not hurt. Coming to you.

And then he started looking for the best exterior wall too.