Log:Mazijik Kajidic: Bloodhounds

Qul'arr Saltwater Processing Facility recieves a visit for repairs. Really.

OOC Date: May 11, 2022
Location: Kothlis
Participants: Borgol the Hutt as GM, Caius Sentari, Fshmaw, Jundani Meru, Khalim, Mallet, Vorcassh, Zhu Yan, Mazijik Kajidic

[ Borgol the Hutt (B)]

The Qul'arr Saltwater Processing Facility can be found on a solitary island in the sea. While there is of course a mainland on Kothlis, there are also many individual islands that can be found out in the great blue expanse of the ocean.

A landing pad is available at the Qul'arr facility, which the temporarily modified YZ-775 Freighter approaches. Faux plating has been attached to the ship and equally faux sensor nodes have been fixed to the hull in order to conceal the formidable armament of the vessel commonly known as 'Sovereign'. Today that ship has been christened with a new name by a pair of talented slicers. Today the Sovereign is known simply as HMC-011 and is registered to the Haggar Maintenance Conglomerate. Following a brief exchange between the facility and the HMC-011, the staff of the supposed processing facility were lead to believe that the freighter carried a maintenance and repair team.

There's a discernable thump and rattle as the freighter lands heavily upon the otherwise vacant landing platform and as the ramp begins to lower, one can see the tarmac below.

Now it's only a matter of the team reaching the facility, gaining entry, and locating a suitable terminal for their uses.

[ Jundani Meru (Jundani)]

As was usual, for the unusually armored woman, Jundani stood near the great of the transport, working at a datapad which she had removed from a pouch on her thigh. She scrolled at random, as though she were skimming through a list of sales, or perhaps the social media feeds which were all the rage on the holonet. Her expression gave nothing away, though her head tilted now and then as her finger paused, giving one item or another more attention than the last. Once the deceleration hit, that signaled that the ship was about to put down, the datapad was slipped away and the woman straightening, shifting the travel bag of tools with her. The supply crate with the required equipment for maintenance she pushed ahead on its repulsor sled.

[ Mallet (mall)]

Mallet isn't dressed to kill. He isn't even dressed to impress. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He's dressed in a brown spacer's flightsuit, the sort of thing that is so prosaic no one would ever comment on it. He has no visible armor, no visible weapons, and honestly, doesn't stick out.

With an open scowl, Mallet strides down the ramp, adjusting his mullet with an absent motion, tying it back out of the way.

[ Fshmaw (Fsh)]

Fshmaw might indeed be wearing the nondescript coveralls of a maintenance/repair tech, but he'll have taken extra precautions and added further flourishes from experience-- all to the end of making himself *more* invisible, *further* beneath notice and less likely to stick out. Whether that means wearing a quick crease in his badge or rubbing a wear-pattern in his code cylinder or using boot-polish to grime himself up, it's what keeps him occupied while they fly.

[ Khalim (Kh)]

Stepping down that ramp, one newlyt HMC-minted mirialan operations supervisor. Khalim sports a rather utilitarian combination of light grey trousers and starkly white dress shirt. Upon his left breast, 'HMC' in corporate-approved colors. Black and slightly less black, or course. He looks to those departing with him, a couple of quick side-long glances, before that gaze is aimed squarely forward and that stride picks up. At his side? A clipboard. Because clipboards, they're somewhat magic in situations like this arent' they?

The only slightly off component of his dress is actually hidden beneath synthfiber, a couple of recently applied bandages that prompt the man to favor his left leg. There's a hint of a limp, but it's mostly just the man and his clipboard, walkin'.

[ Vorcassh (vor)]

The modified angular helmet of the Ubese shifts fractionally every few moments. Vorcassh is keeping himself busy with readouts and adjustments for the flight. Occasionally he stops to tap left fingers along the PAC-20 strapped there. His Cloak has been replaced by a technicians overcoat, and he hates it on so many levels. Yet it is very much the stereotypical technicians coat. However, it has deep pockets for keeping a few things handy. Such as his tools, most of those stay on either his wrists or the utility belt.

Fingers tap rapidly, making use of his natural ambidexterity during the last approach. There is a turn towards the pilot, a job Vorcassh had turned over for a change. The Ubese stands, and joins the rest of the Hutt-Hired group. Time to prove why he is a Semi-Trusted Minion. Perhaps someday to be Trusted Lieutenant and then Indisposable Captain to the Hutt Overlord. As long as the water and supplies flow, at least.

There is a slight twitch of excitement in his fingers and shoulders. He shakes it off often enough, but he gets to engage in his passion today. Aside from Speed. Speed can wait. Especially since this group is so. Well. Varied.

[ Caius Sentari (Cai)]

In stark contrast to Fsh and his near-flawless disguise, Caius is stepping off the ship fully helmeted bedecked in shining crimson armour, if unarmed for now. He made /some/ effort to hide his identity, though - the usual CSF decals have been replaced with HMC insignia. It seems he's passing himself off as a corp-sec minder. Time will tell if it will hold. He stays near Jundani at all times - her being the 'information specialist' in the group and therefore worth more, definitely more than him - following at her flank as they proceed.

[ Zhu Yan (Yan)]

"So dere I was buck-deep in a pile of Arkanian gutter trash," was the downright /painful/ Agamarian drawl emerging from the unshaven mess with the giant moustache clad in worn technician clothes and a jaunty coax-station cap, "when she says to me, she says, 'I ain't never seen one dat big before!'"

What followed was an absolute swathe of guffawing that sounded like someone was choking a large bird of prey.

"So basically I says, ain't nobody got da money for sometin' like dat, y'know? But yeah dat was a hell of a Satunda. What's da jawb? Cooling systems on the fritz again?" The portly looking tech was making big overtures towards staring over the Mirialan's shoulder to his clipboard as they all descended from their point of entry. AUTHENTICITY. "Gotta be, da way dey run dose big-ass PRAHSESSUS."

For those of you thinking the accent helps, I assure you, it does. Because when it comes to infiltrating, sometimes being the loudest noisemaker caused people to ignore you out of spite. And it had worked pretty well for Zhu Yan so far.

[ Borgol the Hutt (B)]

The crew begins to descend the boarding ramp and make their way toward the facility's service entrance, with their hoversled bearing the crate of tools and other maintenance gear. The doors soon open and a pair of equally drably dressed individuals stride through that open doorway as the one in the lead lifts an arm to wave toward the approaching group as the human male calls out in Basic, "Hey, hi, so we," and then the employee seems to catch Zhu Yan's accent and remarks. He looks toward the rest of the maintenance crew with a degree of concern, likely hoping that his visual sweep will uncover the one with at least some sort of primary school diploma among them.

He collects himself quickly, much to his credit. At which point the man casually gestures toward his shoulder and the facility behind him, "We weren't expecting a maintenance team for another week or two though. You sure you've hit the right facility?" He asks with a chuckle.

[ Fshmaw (Fsh)]

Fshmaw *screams incoherently,* drool flying just-- that kind of projection takes *practice,* or *intent.* He may be spraying the nearest petitioner with spittle. He gestures _fervently_ to the clipboard, afterward making the 'throat-cut' gesture that-- does that need translating? The belt-unit, when it flips audibly on, crackles: "We've got three facilities to do in eighteen hours, here, so maybe step aside, bud or *my* boss will..."

[ Jundani Meru (Jundani)]

Jundani, pushing the cart of equipment ahead of her, made her way down towards the receiving team, picking up a slim pad from the top of the crate which she handed over, blithely ignoring the fat human, as she offered the pad over, "I'm afraid I don't know what your schedule is, I only know what orders we received when we all clocked in for work. Here's the work order and the credentials for the team, which you're free to review. We'd like to be able to start work as soon as possible." The blubbering Aqualish picked up where Jundani left off.

[ Mallet (mall)]

Mallet's eyes go sort of wide as the group is interacted with. Instead of talking, a weird, plastic smile appears on his face. He begins nodding his head, slowly, up and down. He moves to Jundani's side, sort of pointing at the data pad, the watches Fshmaw scream incoherently.

The plastic smile grows. In his eyes? Vague panic.

[ Khalim (Kh)]

Yan receives a dubious glance, side-long and lingering for longer than a moment. "Biggest she ever saw?" His own accent is decidedly mirialan, regionally influenced even beyond that, something seldom heard out of the man in its unadulterated natural state. "Might want that looked at, no? Use some of that corpo coverage once in your life?" He appears to be on the verge of saying more, perhaps advisement to have that mustache medically examined as well, when those new arrivals pipe up.

The field supervisor, recognizable by that official black upon slightly less black corpo logo, upon a freshly starched bargain bin dress shirt, crosses to the welcoming committee.

Jundani displays their work order, to which Khalim adds with an authoritative clip to his voice, "We don't ask questions, we receive our work orders the same as you. And ours tells us to be here, because..." That clip-board is reviewed. "You're sucking down eight percent more fuel on a weekly basis than you should be. That costs credits that don't come out of your pocket, or mine. So we fix them, and you don't get docked for not maintaining your hardware."

[ Vorcassh (vor)]

Others are far more better at talking than Vorcassh. Likely the Mustachioed one for certain, even for an Agamarian. For the man keeping them from their timetable? There is simply a 'look' from the double tinted eyeshields of the Ubese helmet. Complete with the head hung to the right in exaggerated 'you are kidding us with this, right?' annoyance gesture. The head raises and shakes side to side, as if to roll eyes behind those eyeshields.

Another exaggerated headshake from Vorcassh and he turns his back on thisother group. Both hands lay fingers on his opposite wrists, and while reading his inner HUD, fingers flicker in rapid and subtle motions. There is a bleep for the man on his coms. A recall notice, go do your job elsewhere and leave them alone.

[ Caius Sentari (Cai)]

Caius had remained silent as he strode behind Jundani, his helmet swivelling there and yonder to sweep the room in his HUD-augmented gaze, scanning for threats and faces and what have you. He's insisted on remaining quiet even as questions are asked, almost eerily so - a stoic prop to contrast Jundani and Khalim's corpo-greasing, and he stands there at the former's flank statuesque as he regards the sentient who dared question them.

[ Zhu Yan (Yan)] "I ain't sayin' a bunch'a lothelephantitis ain't da most helpful thing. You try gettin' you's pants on of a mornin' with it stickin' out dat way." Surely there's something innocent going on here. There has to be.

With all the subtlety of a thrown brick, Zhu Yan's mechanic alias butted in to the conversation. "What'cha got is the prahcessah emitters firin' on a rotation o' twelve times per GalStandard minute, but'cha need them only firin' at ten, eleven on a rough day, so you's is overcookin' your supply." This was of course complete(ly believable) codswallop, coming from the mouth of a man who considered telling the truth to be something you do to priests and priests only. "Could take an hour. Could take a week. Won't know till we gets a looksee."

[ Borgol the Hutt (B)]

The information that is presented by Jundani results in an inward lean, squint, and cursory inspection by the apparent deck officer. He seems suitably prepared to accept her credentials and wave them on. Then he's further assailed by what seems to be an angry Aqualish, then some black-and-lesser-black managerial sort starts rattling at him. Then his comm begins to chirp at him, some nondescript signal that results in a heaved sigh escaping the deck officer. He likely hadn't even had lunch yet. He definitely wasn't prepared to face a mechanic such as the guise as Zhu Yan. An early retirement is looking more and more appealing.

Ultimately the deck officer gives a nod and fixes the vacant stare that had overtaken him in response to Zhu Yan's mechanic personality. After a beat he stands aside to permit the maintenance crew to pass, waving through with a faux officially stated, "Move along, move along," as though he were purposefully mimicing some soldier of a bygone era.

As the maintenance crew passes by, the deck officer glances aside to ask his partner, "You seen that new TH-X14? My wife wants one. If I get my scheduled raise, I may spring for it". Soon after he and his partner depart the landing platform, bound to return to their post as their signal bid they do.

This in turn permits the supposed maintenance crew to enter with their maintenance equipment on their maintenance hoversled. They move through the facility with little in the way of opposition. After a short delay the team is able to locate an unsecured terminal in a section of the facility that, officially, doesn't exist. Jundani and Vorcassh set themselves to the task of accessing the system and promptly after that establishing identities for themselves within that system. As such an out-of-the-way facility the information which the terminals have access to aren't tied directly to the Bothan's Spynet in its entirely. Instead it is akin to a single cell within a larger cluster. Jundani and Vorcassh may note that this particular facility seems to specialize in the acquisition, retainment, and control of information relating to the use of public interstellar transit across the galaxy. From the core to the outer rim, if passage is garnered from one system to another? The Bothan's appear to compile that information.

The rest of the team is hard at work providing cover to those tasked with the technical aspects of the objective. At some point a random employee of the facility crosses paths with Caius, dangerously close to the terminals which Jundani and Vorcassh have huddled themselves around. Questions are asked and then Fshmaw steps in to offer an explanation, which only serves to garner additional skepticism. In true team effort though, Khalim soon steps in to assuage any concerns and once again present the work order that Jundani had previously presented. This seems to be enough to cause the curious employee to wander off and return to their duties.

Zhu Yan? He's getting paid. At least that's what one would think whenever Mallet informs him that someone was in fact approaching and Zhu Yan gets to work, attempting to repair the broken filtration system which the maintenance crew was brought in to repair. Sure, no one can really understand a damn word he says, but he's at least making progress in making those essential repairs a reality.

[ Jundani Meru (Jundani)]

Once the team was in place, Jundani got to work, trading off duties with Vorcassh, slicing and doing the data entry as was necessary. She left the keeping the cover to the rest of the team, though she did look up once, towards Yan, who was, for a wonder, actually working. Who cared it if turned out he broke more than he fixed. He did it with style. What she was most concerned with, was slicing into the system and prepping the way for the subroutines they'd been impressed to slot into the system.

[ Mallet (mall)]

The platinum-blonde, tanned humanish man seems to be quite good at acting like a sentient who is NOT doing his job. If ever there was a being that could pull off 'lazy, shiftless loafer,' it is, apparently, Mallet. As the rest of the team does its work farther down the hallway, he stands there, flipping through what looks suspiciously like scantily or not-at-all clad Twi'leks on his datapad.

And then a couple of workers are coming. His hand slips into his pocket, gripping something there, lips ina thin line....but he seems to fight off some urge, and instead drops his datapad on the floor with a VERY loud clatter. "Ahhhh....FARK! Guys, you didn't see that, right? Right? I can't get caught again, if my wife finds out about this...." He drops to his knees, flicking off the images of two naked twi'leks in an loving embrace. He is quite loud about all of this.

[ Fshmaw (Fsh)]

Fshmaw drops offensively bright pop-up cones in a line he judges will protect, and starts mopping. Nothing like a slick floor to "encourage" looky-loos to find an alternate, not-walking-past-my-slicers-route. o/~ He whistles, off-key, whether via a blowhole or his luscious walrus lips. o/~

[ Khalim (Kh)]

Part lookout and interceptor, part field supervisor, ALL CORPORATE. Khalim's got that clipboard. It's held aloft, in review, repeatedly. It's a passport and a shield, and it has that big 'HMT' logo emblazoned upon its underside. When that stray facility employee ventures a bit too near, and shows a bit too much interest in the happenings surrounding that data terminal, the mirialan engages in 'Operation Show and Tell'. Show that clipboard. Tell the guy everything's cool. Get lost, in corp speak.

It works.

There's a look back to Jundani and Vorcassh, attempting to ascertain degree of mission by, what, body language? He looks, sees them hard at work, and that dark brown gaze shifts to...

/CLATTER/

Those nakek twi'leks stare up at the mirialan, but rather than stare back, Khalim's attention shoots to suddenly mechanically inclined Yan. That's right Yan, Khalim has seen the inside of the Redline. It's a hatchet job! How could this ruse be going so well?! But mostly, he's not one hundred percent certain that lothelephantitis is a plot. "Don't let him see that."

[ Vorcassh (vor)]

The eyeshields have turned themselves upon Zhu Yan. As if just. Staring. Next the helmet tilts up to look at the ceiling for a few moments, as if questioning the universe about now. He has work to do in the meantime, the collective efforts have paid off. It is time to tend to the needs of The Hutt, maybe there will be a nice bonus in it. Unlikely.

The reward here for Vorcassh is their end game. He has a chance to help pull off one of the most difficult slicer jobs possible. Someday, he will pick a new slicer ID for the nets. For now, he's just some faceless technician adding code that will do no harm. Honest. He's not openly trying to compete with Jundani. But he moves with a purpose, professional prides are at stake here.

The mission itself is more important, but this particular slicing job is almost an art. He plugs in his interface attaching a lead from it directly to the modified helmet. There is a combination of entering directly into the system with his left hand, and using his right upon his own datapad and PAC-20. Working with another is. Well. Different. Not unpleasant, just different and strange. He will likely never admit it out loud, but the other slicer is another master artist in this particular craft.

It annoys the Ubese, just a little.

[ Caius Sentari (Cai)]

Caius had kept an eye on Jundani and Khalim as they worked, apparently deciding for himself that they were the VIPs of this op. He watched them /too much/ though, as he failed to spot the random employee striding towards them. He was just about to step up and likely grunt out an attempt at intimidation, but Fshmaw intervened with his line of cones. It failed, even from Caius' point of view, as the employee just stepped around the damn things. He was just about to grunt something at the poor sentient again until Khalim takes over and tells them to get lost. At this, he simply steps behind the pair and stares, resuming his former (and formal, anyway) role as a watchful statue. Any reactions to his colleagues' antics are unseen, hidden behind his helmet. But he would've very likely meant those grunts.

[ Zhu Yan (Yan)]

"FOR A HIP AND A HOO AND A HAH HOORAY, THE MAN WENT DOWN TO SEEEEEEEEAAAAA!" was the sound of a feline being strangled coming from the moustachioed Zhu Yan doing some actual bonafire repair work on the processor vent pipes. Or at least what he thought it was. There was a leak and Yan couldn't stand leaks. So what if it helped him fit the role? He was *annoyed* by it and that gave him a lot more motivation. It was clearly an extremely effective but crappy looking patch job, only giving merit to the idea of the Redline being held together with duct tape, cooking oil, and prayer. And yet that ship still outran NR border patrol on the regular.

At the clatter, Yan paused and made sure his moustache hadn't fallen off. It hadn't, so, buoyed by this revelation, he continued to murder everyone in the building with his godawful screeching. "AND WHEN WE SAILED THE CANDIED LAKE, AND ALL WE SAW WERE KNEES, FOR SOMETHING SOMETHING HOO RAH RAH, FORGOT ALL THE WORDS AND SEEEEEEEEAAAAA!"

Listen, or, try to now that your eardrums have been blown out, substituting talent for volume does not make you a good singer. Nor does forgetting half the words of a sea shanty you heard in a glitter den about five years ago while space-coked out of your mind on the /bad/ stuff. It was that kind of day for Zhu Yan and he was loving every minute of it.

[ Borgol the Hutt (B)]

It's like a well-oiled machine as the members of the infiltration team begin to work as an absolute unit. One could very well call it a well-oiled machine, if it wasn't for the significant amount of screeching that arises from a singular member of it. Where one may begin to slip, another is there to support them. Except Zhu Yan. There's really no helping that, probably.

There are no further surprises, because at every opportunity some prying eyes or curious mind begins to wander too close, another of the team moves to intercept and redirect. Hazardous working conditions, need to stay focus, please avoid the area, and so on. It works like a charm, really. Impressively so.

The paired feat which is soon accomplished by both Jundani and Vorcassh is something worth of note as well. If such a thing ever became officially known. Which is likely wouldn't. Or else an element of the Hutt Cartel would very likely grow very sour.

Together the pair carve out their own comfortable, metaphorical cubby within the small segment of the overall - albeit unconnected - Spynet. It's enough to bring even the canniest slicer to sweat as they avoid detection in both the physical realm, but also the technological. They sidestep security, bypass notice, and altogether prove themselves precisely the sort of talents - both individually and as a team - that the Bothan Spynet would likely begin to breathe heavily at the prospect of their recruitment.

Eventually the assignment is completed and, once Jundani and Vorcassh signal their completion, the finishing touches are provided to the filtration system to get it operation. Sure, it may very well suffer a catastrophic explosion in a matter of weeks, but Haggar Maintenance Consortium stands by its work. Surely they'll send another maintenance crew out to provide additional maintenance support any time between 21 and 32,816 galactic standard business days.

Now the team must exfiltrate, return to their transport, and carry on to their next work order.

[ Jundani Meru (Jundani)]

Whatever it was that the team was doing, from admiring twi'lek assets, to actual repairs, to providing visual distraction, it worked, and Jundani was able to focus on the task at hand. She worked well with the Ubese, showing little need to uptake learning to work in tandem. But then, after well over a century of working for the Corporate Sector, one learned the ability to engage teamwork on the fly. With the mission completed, and the system repairs and partially optimized. Not fully, of course, or else they'd never need to hire services again, and that wasn't good business for HMC Maintenance. But they were done, and with a nod and a hand lifted to indicate they should make their way out, Jundani made to do just that.

[ Mallet (mall)]

No one, and I mean /no one/ can provide fine Twi'lek porn like Mallet, man with the mullet. Alas, sooner or later, the end was going to come, and with the actual workers on the team finished, he slips his datapad away. Regretfully. With one last lingering look at naked twi'lek flesh.

[ Fshmaw (Fsh)]

Fshmaw, having laid a treacherous river of dirty water over most of the "choke-points," collects his cones one-by-one and returns the mop-bucket to the trolley, humming brightly to himself as he does so. Discouragement done, trap laid, knees-and-ankles-beware, he exfiltrates with the rest of the team, the very picture of the oafish janitor working on that GED for the fifth year running...

[ Khalim (Kh)]

That exfil begins. Khalim offers complimentary nods to those facility employees they happen to cross as they work their way back outside. That clipboard is displayed one, two... eight times in total. A passport. A magical warrant for escape. At one point they pass what looks to be a genuine administrator, notable for the gloss to his finely stitched nerf-hide shoes. That clipboard is again wielded, a thinking man's weapon. "Don't forget to give us five stars on our work order review. Our bonuses depend upon it." Selling the lie, with every step.

[ Vorcassh (vor)]

Almost everything else no longer exists for the Smuggler-Slicer. Almost. His shoulders visibly flinch at the Singing FatMan(tm). He forces himself to drown it out and lower some receptors in his helmet. He'll console himself later with daydreams of stunning uncomfortable places on the man. Actually, those thoughts are instantly regretted. There is a deep inhale, and then exhale.

Bothan Spynet! The dream and goal for so many to pull this off, and so far so good. Few will know his name, this is not a bad thing. Though it briefly causes him to consider how many loose ends will need trimming later. He lets Jundani address her slicing niche`, he'll cover other aspects in the process. Everything is going so smoothly it is almost alarming.

Still. Silently begrudging respect for the other slicer. He finishes up his half of this particular work load, and starts to withdraw from the system slowly and deliberately. If they are discovered now, while a displeased Hutt is very concerning, being surrounded by security first would be the more immediate and painful concern. Thankfully, no one could possibly be neglectful enough to start improvising right now. Right?

[ Caius Sentari (Cai)]

Caius had spent the interim watching the backs of his colleagues, and he almost succeeds in his task of being a quiet, unnoticeable statue... until finally lets out an actual grunt at Yan's singing. It is exasperated in totality, and his shoulder-plates even visibly drop a bit. The fact that it's been tense here and there doesn't help... well, at least it would be a grunt, if his helmet didn't have an in-built vox-scramble. Indeed, Caius just looks like the corpsec minder he was posing as voxing an affirmative as Jundani made her hand-signal. He follows behind her then, his helmet gesturing to the others behind to follow.

[ Zhu Yan (Yan)]

Zhu Yan was neglectful enough to start improvising right now. "Awright so ya leaky duct valves have been all patched up, ya leave da sealant there for like a week or so den ya take off da top layer of da tape here," Yan's greasy fingers rapped the connecting ring of a pipe which was held together precariously by duct tape under which sealant was doing its work. Yan's problem was that he kept forgetting to remove the tape.

"Just remember, Haggar Maintenance Consortium is here for all youse fine maintenance needs." That wasn't the slogan, but Yan was playing an idiot, so it fit that he didn't know it. "So you's gotta make sure ya log a work order, den da work gets all done nice and good. Tawk to da supervisor if your PRAHCESSAH starts jumpin' again!" was his parting shot.