The team is currently aboard a Dreadnaught the Alliance recovered from an Old Republic decommisioning facility. The vessel requires far more crew than the Alliance can currently spare, so its facilities are only partly online. Crew and maintenance droids are always running around, fixing the various problems that pop up. Loud curses frequently ring out as electronics suddenly short out, or the hot water runs out, or a bulkhead slams closed without warning. It's anyone's guess which of the turbolaser batteries actually work, and no-one wants to depend on the shields to survive a bombardment.

General Rieekan uses this currently-unnamed capital ship as a mobile base. His opinion, voiced with a wry expression, is that at least the technical crew is getting plenty of on-the-job experience.

After you landed your ship in the hanger bay, your prisoner was taken to the brig for interrogation while the cargo hold was emptied. The ample munitions you retrieved put a sparkle in the eye of the quartermaster. The medical droid was brought away to the droid bay for assembly, after which it would be sent to the medical bay to begin work for the Rebel Alliance. Your team was given quarters and instructed to get some rest.

A few days later, your team is instructed to report to a briefing room on the third deck. It's easy to find, since very few of the decks are actually occupied at this time. The briefing room is more of an audience hall, a vast presentation room designed for hundreds of people. Your tiny team is clustered together near the platform. Rieekan stands behind a lecturn, in front of a holo display of Tatooine.

Rieeken is getting his notes together, allowing you a moment to speak to one another and introduce your new team member.

"Tatooine? Where in the black is that?" Victor asks the group. Tatooine being just a slow populated planet in the middle of no where in the outerrim. Mandalore, Victor's home planet, is also on the otherside of the galaxy.

Seku strides into the mission briefing with her swagger fully restored. Her disappointment at not having procured the warheads has faded in the wake of the rest of the Dreadnaught crew's pleasure at receiving the weapons and medical supplies. She has already taken advantage of one of their best acquisitions: the side of her face has been well tended to by the new medical droid.

The pirate-esque outfit that she wore on the raid has been swapped out for a fur-lined jacket and looser, more comfortable looking pants. The heat sometimes doesn't work right on the Dreadnaught and space is already a little cold for the Twi'lek's taste so she isn't taking any chances.

Seku takes a seat next to Victor. "Tatooine? Pretty close to Ryloth actually. I've never been there because, from what I hear, there is literally no reason to ever go there." She lowers her voice to whisper conspiratorially, but it is still a volume that the entire room can hear. "But I heard from one of our fighter jocks that the guy who blew up the Death Star was from there."

Into the briefing room walks a large, furry sentient that best resembled an overgrown weasel, dressed in a loose-fitting spacer vest and trousers. The tips of dark-golden fur catch the light from the hologram of the desert planet as he walks past. He briefly looks over the others in the room, though he makes no outward gesture toward them, good or bad. Finding a seat near the end of the front row, he sits down and waits for the meeting to start. His countenance is hard to read; whether he is shy or aloof or focused on the mission is hard to tell.

F3-3T sits processing the idea of returning to Hutt Space. He lets out a series of sighing beeps and protests. "ZAPZAPBINGDRNNNGBANGABOOT!![Language unknown: Resni Lo Neceac Niil Ieto Hica Alriho!!]". He finishes recording the briefing and uploading the latest of rebellion updates to his rusty innards.

The Selonian walks into a briefing room. The little astromech rolls near the wonderful specimen as he has not viewed one in person. He begins without controlling himself to begin holo-pict recording the beings naked furry feet.

The briefing continues.

Looking no worse for wear after a few hours of bacta, Jess strolls into the briefing room and takes a seat. "There's a crime lord on Tatooine, I can't recall his name but he used to trade with..." her voice trailed off, "anyway. Anytime there's a hutt involved it's usually bad news."

A man in an ensign's uniform comes in with  a rollong tray. It has two large caf pots and drinking mugs. He pushes it to the lecturn, pours a mug, and hands it up to Rieeken. The general accepts it with a nod.

"Sorry it took so long, General," apologizes the aide. "I had to boil the water a pot at a time." He looks to you, offering mugs.

General Rieeken sips the caf, grimaces, and swallows. He clears his throat and begins speaking.

" Tatooine is a desert world the far reaches of the outer rim. Very small permanent population, no exports to speak of. The Empire maintains only a token presence there. That's very convenient for people looking to avoid official attention. Like us, and criminal kingpins like Jabba the Hutt. Tatooine is his main base of operations. Mostly, he uses it as a destination for Smugglers hauling illegal Cargoes and needing a place to lay low. He bribes the Imperials to keep their noses out of his business, and most of the locals have learned to stay out of his way.

" something's come up though. Recently, Jabba the Hutt has begun a local operation, and Rebel command has decided to intervene."

Jess sat up. "Oh my. Jess felt her pulse quicken, she swallowed a newly formed lump in her throat.  "Intervene how? General?"

Drac momentarily raises his palm vertically, politely refusing the caf. His beady eyes continue focussed on the General, not flinching at the mention of the Hutts, either from bravado or naivety.