Aurelia gives Dutch an even stare as he attempts to chew her out, and he realizes that he's hit something hard. Harder than what should probably be beneath the skin of this particular mechanic.
"Are you threatening me?" She shakes her head in disbelief.
"Let me make one thing very, very clear to you Dutch. Do not *ever* threaten someone while you are living on the ship they built. Now get out of my face." Dutch doesn't get the impression this is negotiable.
"Now, if you must know, money has never actually changed hands. They're not a purchase, they're a rescue. And if the droid doesn't pan out, we need another way into the Imperial part supplies...and I think a turned Imperial officer is a fairly decent start on that. Unless you'd rather continue with the manly chestbeating and try a frontal assault?"
----
Aurelia looks over the parts the droid lays out with a somewhat critical eye. They're passably good, and could get used, but even an outpost like this should have better.
It seems that the old droid hasn't had a memory wipe in quite some time, because it stops at Jorm's question and places its rickety hands on its bronze hip joints in a very human manner.
"That's right, the Imperials often purchase parts from this establishment," Birdie responds. "But why don't ya tell me what you are really askin?"
Jorm chuckles, amused by Birdie's straightforward approach. He puts down the converter he was inspecting and looks the droid straight in the photoreceptors. "I want to talk to someone at the outpost about purchasing some of their high-end equipment. I thought you might be able to give me an in or at least a name."
"I'm sorry, but seeing as how you're not even a customer" - the droid's attempt at subtlety is laughable - "it ain't in my best interest to send you to Chief Brogan when my power converters are more than adequate for your needs." Birdie stops short, then continues. "No matter. The chief will likely send you back to me. The outpost doesn't buy parts they don't plan on usin'."
Jorm puts down the power converter, acting severely chastized, and continues looking around the shop. He spots a pair of fairly high quality hyperdrive transfer circuits within his "mad money" budget and purchases them.
While paying the droid, he says "I apologize if I offended you earlier. I don't know your feelings regarding the Empire, but I do have some business with them and would appreciate an introduction."
Birdie lightens up as he takes Jorm's credits. "Well in that case, Chief Brogan should be able to help you if yer business is of the mechanical type. You must be lookin' for something special if it's not here." The droid packages the hyperdrive circuits in a sealed baggie and hands them over. "Chief Brogan. You tell him you got his name from me."
Meanwhile, back at the ship...
Arnae, somewhat bored, is fiddling about with the comm circuits, and finally succeeds in what he thinks is an encrypted transmission to his comrades in the B-Wing.
"Come in, guys. Cat, Eritram, you there? What's your status?"
Upon hearing his comrades breaking radio silence Eritram quickly keys the Comm-System. He nods to Cat, signaling her that she can talk securely. Or so he hopes.
Calsera's voice fairly purrs across the link. "We had a bit of excitement, but we seem to have put it behind us. Just waiting for further instructions. How's it going down there?"
"Excitement?" Well, if details were important, they'd have mentioned them. Better keep things nonspecific, just in case someone's listening in.
"Nothing too exciting down here. My favorite mechanic's already managed to save a few hearts and livelihoods among the locals, believe it or not. Anyway, we're investigating more roundabout, low-key ways of procuring our intended cargo, so you might want to settle in for a nap or something. Stay available, though. Knowing our luck and our track record, we might need a little help getting our package skyward."
Much less imposing than the main gate, the loading bay is actually a landing pad enclosed by a physical fence, jutting out from the complex wall and connected by a heavy blast door - no budget for the standard force fields is a thought that crosses many of your minds. Four stormtroopers stand guard, 2 walking the outside perimeter while the other 2 alternate between sitting on some crates and standing and looking intimidating when an officer walks by, which is infrequent. Maintenence droids and equipment containers are arrayed in an orderly fashion around the pad.
The real deterrent for any possible mischief comes from the AT-ST which makes frequent patrols past the area. Dutch estimate it passes every three minutes.
"What's your business here?" asks one of the stormtroopers. He and his partner stop pacing and approach.
Jorm steps up to the guard, keeping his hands in plain sight and acting respectful, though not fearful. "We're here to see Chief Brogan about a business matter. Please inform him that Birdie Six sent me. "
Quote: from Infested Paladin on 2:33 am on Sep. 15, 2005 "Nothing too exciting down here. My favorite mechanic's already managed to save a few hearts and livelihoods among the locals, believe it or not. Anyway, we're investigating more roundabout, low-key ways of procuring our intended cargo, so you might want to settle in for a nap or something. Stay available, though. Knowing our luck and our track record, we might need a little help getting our package skyward."
"ZT-557 to base; Some people here to see the Chief. Yes sir, they say they're from BRD-6. Should I let them in?"
The other stormtrooper holds his blaster anxiously as his partner cocks his head, listening to an inaudible reply. Then:
"All right, you're cleared." The blast doors open with a loud whirring and four more stormtroopers march out onto the landing pad. "Take these people into see Brogan. If they try anything funny, blast 'em and put the bodies in the compactor."
The stormtroopers lead the Vandals across the landing pad and into the complex. The hums and clanking of maintenance droids grows louder once inside the blast doors, which close with a punctuating slam. One thing is apparent; this is the shoddiest, most piecemeal Imperial base you have ever seen. It looks like a Rebel base on the inside, all scavenged components and secondhand systems. The Lambda shuttle sits partially out of view behind a massive construction gantry. It looks fairly well maintained, with no outward sign of why it's in drydock.
A thick man in a dull gray technician's uniform struts over. "I'm Chief Brogan, whaddya want?"
"Well, Mr. Brogan, my associates and I were under the impression that you might be able to provide us with some parts we currently need for one of our ships. Birdie Six said that anything we couldn't find in his shop would probably be here."
Jorm pauses, looks at the Stormtroopers and continues, "Is there some place a bit more private that we could talk?"
"If you can't say it in front of these idiots, I don't wanna hear it, 'cause it's likely something that'll get my ass in trouble, and I've got enough of it as it is. That pile of bantha crap behind me" - Brogan waves to the Imperial shuttle - "needs to be spaceworthy in two hours or it's my ass. So speak your piece and let's deal."
"Well, as I've already stated, we need some high quality equipment for one of our ships. I'm really in the market for power converters, but right now there's a whole list of components we could use. "
Jorm takes a deep breath. "Originally, I was going to try and barter and haggle my way to a deal with you since I know life on an Imperial Outpost lacks certain luxuries that I might be able to provide. However, after hearing your situation with that shuttle I think we might be able to reach another deal."
"I happen to have the best mechanic within 10 sectors here with me and I myself am no slouch when it comes to ship repairs. You let me choose a part or two after we fix that shuttle, and we'll call it a deal."
(Edited by Aihal the Silent at 10:27 am on Sep. 21, 2005)
Brogan thinks over Jorm's offer and quickly replies, "Yeah? What's the best way to get a Taim & Bak C-class compression coil to work with a Seinar 8900?"
Jorm starts his answer: "Those shouldn't work in the first place, but if I had to do it I'd dump the excess engine power you're getting with the 8900 to weapons or deflectors before you burn out the coil-"
Aurelia interrupts him. "No need to lose engine power, you just strip the damper rings off the compression coil and wire it straight into the socket. The current won't burn it out 'cause it's not getting the dangerous juice."
Brogan looks impressed. "All right, follow me. You must be in a bad way to come to me for parts. Clear outta here," he adds, barking at the stormtroopers.
---
Meanwhile, Mandall has left the Dagger after a short nap has left him bored and with too much energy. Deciding to preemptively provide a plan B, he dons some nondescript clothing and heads towards the Imperial outpost.
Mandall's not explicitly trained in infiltration, but his senses and situation awareness are tuned so high that he can keep the relative positions of people in his mind and simply make sure he's not where he can be seen. A well-timed hurdle onto a covered speeder transport gets him into the complex, and as Aurelia, Jorm, Ganet, and the others help Brogan with the repairs (of which there are many), Mandall soon finds himself crouched behind some exposed power conduits within spitting distance of the "brig", which is actually a row of eight locked boxes, each a little longer than your standard portable waste disposal unit. Two stormtroopers are guarding the general area, if my "guarding" you mean "sitting on some crates and talking about last night's game".
As they head toward the shuttle, Jorm continues talking with Brogan "Is the compression coil actually your problem, or was that just a test? Either way, I think the best way to go about his would be for you and 'Relia to focus on repairing the problem. Between her and I she is the better mechanic and you probably know the ship better. I can monitor from command, run systems tests and give you status updates."
CrazyIvan
