Log:New Republic: Off the Rails

New Republic: Off the Rails

OOC Date: June 24, 2021
Location: Corellia
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm(GM), Jax Greystorm, Aryn Cortess, Ban Iskender, Chani Tahn, Shemar, Rune

Ever ride in a packed car hauling freight? It's not exactly designed for comfort.

Car after car glides effortlessly along mag rails, snaking through the riverlands in a southernly route over swamp and along coast, barreling on toward Coronet station. The occasional shift from one line to a parallel track occurs with jarring abruptness, causing the seemingly infinite rows of Helper Droids to rattle and sway in their racks. The contents of this train are the very embodiment of Ambrosia Greystorm's 2nd worst nightmare - robotic drones advising her on how to do her job. Helper droids are helpful, but only if you desire the 'help'. Otherwise, the astromech offshoots are vein-pulsing degrees of irritating. For now, they sleep, these hundreds of newly minted droids, dreaming of their tomorrow when they will be shipped and delivered to their respective (not all respectFUL) companies and fulfill their destinies.

One of these many cars - car number 22 in a lineup of 38 - is a very special car, as it is void of droid bodies. The inner bulkheads have been stipped away, hollowed out, filled with stacks of ammunition, colonnades of rifles, packs of medkit supplies, then placed back with an inordinate amount of ambiguous access panels, labeled "maintenance only". The bulk of the car's droidless interior space is filled with miscellaneous junk and tools, including a small break table bolted to floor and mini fridge, of all things, shoved into a corner. There are no chairs, of course. Narrow hatches aft and fore lead to adjacent cars in the train while an emergency escape hatch is highlighted in yellow tape overhead. There are no windows, just the low buzz of spastic lighting emitted from strip lights around the seams of ceiling and floor.

So cheery.

<<"Next stop, Coronet Station">> a lifeless, automated voice chimes overhead after the train slowed for an obligatory pause at an outlying station that's been wrecked to shreds by the most recent bouts of conflict. It's a bit of a bumpy ride around that portion.

Bumpy was an understatement for one used to the finer modes of transportation found throughout the extravagant lanes of life. Here? There is nothing luxurious or extravagant about it. Utilitarian, perhaps, dangerous for organics was a certainty, yet the cargo was a necessary fuel for war and its protection meant allies would have the gear they needed to keep the war going.

Aryn rehearsed in one corner as the train car bounced. Pronunciation was a tough son of a Hutt to master especially when your whole life was focused on speaking properly. "Hasnnnt..Hasn't.. Hasn't.." She shakes her head, annoyed by how it sounds paired with her coreworld accent, Aryn sighs and begins to worry if the mission might require her to do more than lift heavy things and seem busy.

Coronet City was coming up, and with it, the stress of not knowing the unknown. "Hasn't.. ..isn't..ugh, Mother save me."

Shemar is here, hunkered down in the car. He's in armor and has a rifle, but he's the FNG with Black Squadron and kind of still learning the ropes. The new transfer in from another squadron. So he's looking to follow orders from whoever's in charge on this op. He's quiet and relaxed, listening to their coms and not saying anything. Alert, watchful of the others, waiting as the train travels onwards to their destination.

He turns his head, studying the others - none of which really know who he is either, though Bors would have spoken up for him.

The car jolts again. Chani's fingers tighten around the haft of the spear settled across her lap so it doesn't go rolling off of her lap and into someone's way as a tripping hazard. There are plenty of dangerous things in the train car and a lot of jagged edges and pointy ends that aren't suitable for falling into. She sits cross-legged on the floor with her posture straightened and her eyes shut, but the last jolt leaves her sighing and opening her eyes. There will be no meditating on this trip. Dressed in non-descript armor found in every armor shop on any planet in the galaxy, the only thing that stands out about her is the spear itself. Her gloved fingers hold it in an over-handed grip and she keeps the sharp tip angled towards the wall.

The voice that resounds through the cabin has her dark-eyed gaze lifting to search for its source, but its disembodied and Chani can't locate even a speaker module jutting out from the wall. Given how heavily modified this train car is, it's a wonder it looks like a train car at all.

Jax was dressed as middle Management guy for the Happy Droid company. Which meant he wore an off the rack business suit Salmon colored and charcoal slacks. Then he wore maybe the most insulting part of his suit was a charcoal half cape slung over one shoulder and totally wrong. There was even a few stains on the cape and shirt that resembled breakfast. It's all right next to a name tag that proudly stated his name was, 'Kern.' He had done little for his hair or beard. Just added some glasses and a bit of make up to hide his scar. He was a 'techie manager' after all. He carried with him a datapad with him. He had been on 'patrol' double cheking inventory. As train that Ban and Aryn are currently opens, Jax steps in. "Hey you two, how's it hanging? Any damage in here?"

A hand reaches out to steady himself as the train shakes in it's tracks, the ride being a bit more turbulent than the novice Force user was expecting. "Why do you not just say, 'Has not'? Rune asks of Aryn, an eyebrow lifted as he pulls at his unfamiliar uniform. This isn't the first time the Ysannan has been undercover but this /is/ the first time he's been able to 'speak'. Also, he was wearing a full head to toe outfit last time, his face hidden... made things a lot easier. The young Jedi practices along with her, "Hasent. Hassent. HaseNt." He's not very good at it either, it's a good thing he won't be on of the ones speaking. Instead he goes about his business looking like he belonged, casually watching the rest of those in the train car with nods of various sorts.

<<"Kzz..owaki ch-ch-chumani">> A bit of a static-riddled voice heralds the inbound team over their preordained frequency. Either they've just been greeted or insulted. Possibly both, given the caller IS Corellian. <<"--TA Fif--n---utes">> 

Say what?

The clattering garbage heaped every so offputtingly in the middle of this car doesn't offer any assistance guessing the omitted words because unlike the Helpful droids in the other cars, this garbage is, sadly, just garbage. <<"rry 'bout that. Little interference o-o-r end. Skrag. We'll be waiting. Or y---will. Bit of a delay but uh...we're fine now.">>

<<"Final approach to Coronet Station. ETA three minutes,">> The clear and souless voice announces on high.

"Most soldiers I know speak with cavalier regard for sentence structure or proper pronunciation of words. I know of no Free Company that exudes any notion of eloquence. If I were to be 'in character', I might say boldly that eloquence is something I might buy with my next paycheck." Oh the ignorance of such a statement! This is spoken to Ban. When Jax arrives, Aryn looks to him and shrugs. "*Ahem*../I've/ seen nothing that would warrant concern as of yet." She still sounds posh, but it's dirty and Aryn recoils like she's cursed or said something she cannot take back.

Rune's words prompt Aryn to shrug. "I prefer the use of has not, but I thought it more fitting to speak as a common mercenary, alas it may be out of my reach." Aryn tucks her blonde hair back and takes a big breath, then pushes the thick-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose looking every bit the nerd she had been when she attended university.

Unlike her younger years though, Aryn favored a black uniform that looked like it had come from a surplus store that only sold Galactic Civil War relics. Her trousers are bloused to a set of weathered combat boots, and she had a medkit in the form of a satchel which concealed a blaster pistol holstered on her thigh. The uniform was form fitting, perhaps a bit more than Aryn might have thought appropriate, but it afforded more dexterity. Aryn also thought it accentuated the blonde of her hair, though she hoped it would not be a factor that drew a lot of attention. At least the scar over her eye was doing her some favor in the department of appearing distinguished as a veteran or mercenary of sorts.

The calls over the comm and local network leave Aryn feeling a bit more nervous.

The first bit he couldn't make much out of but the second spat of data is more intelligiable. Subtly, Eisley (Shemar) turns his head as Aryn speaks to Ban. At the 3 minute warning mark, he gets up and checks the blood flow through his legs and takes a moment to shift his rifle on it's tactical sling. A roll of his head pops his neck as he listens to the others. He cautiously moves to shift his position to have cover when they open the car up, and gets a hold with his off hand, boots planted so that when the car lurches to a stop, he will hopefully not be thrown like so much unsecured cargo.

His own Trooper armor has a loose tunic thrown over it and his rifle has a temporary tapejob to help conceal it's form. A splatter of dry mud also helps.

No taking part in the conversation as yet. He waits, listening and watchful.

Ban Iskender regards Jax upon the other's entry. "Naught appears amiss, as of yet," he answers before regarding Aryn with dry amusement. "The novelty of a well-spoken soldier must remain imagined, alas." The jumbled transmission pushes a brow back up. "It would appear that *someone* is estimated to arrive in fifteen minutes. Let us hope it our confederates, and that the train will keep a cooperative schedule." Ban didn't even grow stubble or muss his hair. A terrible grizzled mercenary, he.

Three minutes. Chani lifts the haft of the spear higher than her thighs and uses nothing more than her feet and her legs to rise from her position on the floor. The spear in hand adjusts itself so that its end is planted against the car's deck and the menacing tip is aimed towards the ceiling. It serves as a modcium of support while the train itself continues to rattle from the speed at which it travels along the rail. She breathes through her mouth rather than her nose and begins to stride into one of the corners of the car. Much like someone who doesn't belong aboard, Chani begins shifting into a position more suited to a stowaway than some guard. If they fail at their attempt to get through the checkpoint, she can worry about where to go from there.

Jax looks at Aryn and Ban who are somehow the most posh mercs in the galaxy. Then he says, "Riiiiiggggghhhhhttt. Let hope it stays that way. Did you recieve the new TPS Cover Sheet templete for the after action report? Make sure you use the mark 11 tps cover sheet if you want to make sure you're paid for your work." He holds out a data pad to the group, "I'm going to need each one of you to make your mark on the datapad so the home office will know I explained this to you and us at the Happy Droid Company aren't held liabel if there is a delay in your payment disbursment if you don't use the proper TPS Cover sheet."

Rune tilts his head up at the sound of the voice coming over the intercom. An eyebrow lifts and he nods, now understanding the reason for her practicing a less eloquent dialect. "I see." is all he says, stepping to the side in order to better blend in with the folk around them. It occurs to him, aside from the ugly metal tube in one of his belt pouches, he doesn't have a weapon like the other soldiers, no blaster pistol or rifle adorns his form. There could be a flaw in his appearance as a body guard, there's not many who would believe he was capable enough without a weapon to provide much support. He blinks at the datapad clasped by Jax, an eyebrow raising as he taps on the screen a couple of times in one of the boxes, a curt nod when he's finished as if he just performed some heroic task. Afterward, like Chani, he too attempts to dissolve back into the background, appearing as nonchalant as possible in the hopes that he doesn't pull any undue attention.

Outside the train, Coronet's cityscape is much more than the distant smudge over horizon it was ten minutes ago. It has risen up to dwarf the magtrain and all other like it that come and go from the nearing station. Just two kilometers from the spaceport, this train station is just as busy and just as important a hub of trade and commerce. Locally produced goods get TO port via this station, or elsewhere 'round city, and imported goods from offworld can likewise be distributed from here. Imported goods have already been vetted by the time they reach the trains, but for exported goods, this is the first stop.

Naturally, governing entities are going to be inquisitive as to the contents, but there are a great many trains to inquire about. So that's where the smaller tiers of authority come into play - minor league agents to look over manifests, manage arrivals and departures, harp on those who are late and ignore those who come early. And they're out there, these easily-riled 'officers' of the station, prowling up and down lines of arrived and idling cars on platform. Expressions upon their faces range from bored to anxious to impatient, each feeling the heat of the First Order overlords breathing down their necks, even if there's just a FEW squads of patrolling troopers keeping an eye on the whole of operations.

<<"Coronet Station.">> BLAT <<"Arrived.">> The train shudders to a standstill and then all at once the cars BRIGHTEN inside. All except for cars 22 and 14. 14 might be suffering from an incidental bout of poor wiring. 22 was most certainly tampered with to MIMIC an incidental issue with the wiring. The same low glow of emergency strip lighting remains while the ones overhead throw out the occasional sputter. If anyone took the time to watch the pattern of these sputters, they might recognize that it IS a pattern, repeating in a cycle. A decodeable cycle, as matter of fact. But who's got time to stare at faulty electrical work? Not these station officers.

"HELPER DROID mag---" 'Anxious' face looks to their datapad with a brief note of confusion furrowed into their brow, then back up at the head car and its scrolling ID number over the nose. "8217. You are here to replace Mag-274? That'd be the second time this month it's broken down." Hard to say if he's annoyed by the incongruity or feeling a touch of pity for the company's handlers. The Helper Droid Factory's production ratings had fallen, of late. One more casualty of wartime...

And there they wait, clearly expecting someone to step off and get the paperwork portion over with so they can move along to their next target.

Jax hears the Helper Droid name called out and he steps out to look at 'Anxious' face. He gives the man his best smile, "THat's us right here, Helper Droid. Got the datafiles all in order." He holds out the datapad to 'Anxious' Face. " The Corellian seeming to stands there nonchalant and there was nothing about him that had a hint of military more of a business guy with his 'gelin inserts' for maximum comfort in his shoes. "I'm Kern Sooliven, Happy Droid. We're replacing Mag-274 please check the 641-576AS as attached. The required 619Cert is also attached showing creditials."

There were no words to convey the look of confusion that manifested itself in Aryn's features when Jax had offered a datapad for her to make a mark. What mark?! Alas, the train stopped, and duty called the Corellian to the exterior to treat with the anxious officers suffering the pressure of an overbearing and micro-managing occupation of a tyrannical force of nature!

Meanwhile, Aryn waited patiently inside under pressure of her own making. Silent questions bounced around idly as she considered what could happen, and what their appropriate response would be. A cautious glance finds the occupants of their train car attached with silent scrutiny. Were they ready?!

Eisley gave Jax the 'You got to be jerking me' look at the whole mark the datapad thing. But Shemar grinned anyway, understanding he was acting his cover roll. His gloves adjust his grip and he hunkers down once more to stay out of sight. Wait and see what happens. Things rarely go as smoothly as a baby's oiled bottom but you can hope. The Black Squadron commando otherwise looks like he's staying frosty and patient, listening.

Ban Iskender affixes the helm in place as the mag train nears its stop, and rises to follow Jax out of the disguised car. <<"I am commencing an external inspection,">> he voices over the comm to his fellow 'mercenaries'. <<"I will notify if anything untoward is discovered.">> A gauntleted hand rests idly on the grip of his holstered pistol as the armored gentleman does what he imagines hired security would do at stopovers: make a token effort at being seen and visually verifying that no stereotypical mustachioed miscreants wearing masks load a cart of bombs onto a car, before he returns to raid the mini fridge.

Chani grunts. The stopped motion of the train means she jostles into the wall and almost hits herself in the face with the haft of her spear, but a reflexive tucking of the weapon in towards her side and shoulder means she avoids the wood cracking into her teeth and lips. She maintains an uncomfortable position of being hunched down rather than sitting. Her muscles are coiled like whipcord, wound up tight and ready to snap forward with intent should the need arise. Chani murmurs a quiet prayer in the flickering, dark ambience of the car that such a thing won't be necessary. Maybe Shiraya is listening. Both hands on the spear's shaft, Chani uses it to help alleviate some of the weight off her legs whenever the ache gets a little too much.

Rune shifts from one foot to the other when the train slows to a stop, his eyes immediately moving to the door of the car, waiting for the official to come in. An overworked eyebrow lifts at the droid that comes in, Jax immediately presenting the official with the datapad complete with his fake identity. The young Jedi can't help but smile at the get-up, the salmon shirt and charcoal pants looking great and 'business like' Still, he shifts back into the shadows, staying quiet and unobtrustive.

The suit.

The 'anxious' member of Coronet Station's austere welcoming committee wrinkles his nose at the unfortunate business suit that emerges from train to meet him. Differing opinion on fashion aside, he DOES take hold of that datapad and scrolls through to note the 641-576AS, squints his way through skimming it, then hastens along to the 619Cert. It checks out. Jax's suit, on the other hand...

"You've got some..." like the stain could be contagious if talked about, the officer motions a finger to his own shoulder, indicating Jax's cape.

A shout from across the way turns his attention just for a sec, then back on Jax. "Whereabouts this batch heading?" It's spoken /almost/ casually enough to be construed as idle chatter, but his eyes are focused squarely on the paperwork to compare notes.

Meanwhile, the click-clack tell of plastisteel armor marches into view. Seven Stormtroopers approach the train with a professional level of interest and at the behest of their Sergeant, divide their ranks to split the workload. Two circle around the nose of the train to board its lead car, two make for the middle, and two head off toward the rear cars.

Jax's new friend makes no mention of them - excuses or warnings or permissions - and continues to look through the paperwork as if this is the new norm.

Jax looks down at the stain on his cape there's a frown there as if he noticing it for the first time. He reaches down to flick away the offening spec of food, "Oh I see. Thank you. I shouldn't have had my morning breakfast and caf on the train this morning. Got breakfast wrap and sauce ever..." Then the voice calls out for the destination of the droids. "CorSec HQ, Tyrena, and Kuat." He says to the voice and turns to look at the approaching troopers. Then glances at the customs offical and decides to read the room shutting up.

Aryn has a moment of indecision and tries to hide AND follow Ban. Deciding at the last minute to play a dutiful mercenary leads to a tragic fall out the side of the car and into the open. She hits the ground in a clatter and looks genuinely displeased with what just occurred. "OW!" She landed on her wrist a little too hard, and looks every bit the distressed and in pain young lady she was. Rising up to her feet, she cradled her arm and declared, "Under what protocol does it state that handrails are absent?! It is just impractical, what if it had been moving?!"

Aryn shakes her hand out and glares at the stormtroopers approaching from the aft section and storms right toward them. "Move aside, soldiers.. I have a job to do!" And she tries to sound diplomatic and urgent all the same whilst looking over the OPPOSITE end of the train like Ban. MOTHER ABOVE, her wrist hurt..

Shemar is hunkered down behind the crates of arms. He's not moving, he's relaxed and listening, rifle in his hands. If this car should be opened up and inspected, he's ready to defend their shipment. Otherwise the Black Squadron commando is keep his mouth shut and letting the Jedi handle the brains part of the mission.

Ban Iskender moves at an unhurried pace, periodically looking from the train cars that the station. Upon noting the First Order patrol, he notes over comms, <"A squad of seven troopers splitting to board. Two to fore, two to center, two to aft, with the seventh observing."> See, Ban: if you'd just said 'hide' your pals would have time to conceal themselves instead of listening to you drone on for so long. And then, there is a clattering Aryn. A slow sigh and a quiet lament, "Damnation, she was right: no soldier speaks so."

The silence in the car is thunderous. Chani can hear her own breathing in the confined space she's in, wedged between two racks and the various things piled up around them. Enduring holding the same position as the minutes draw out is becoming torturous. The lactic build up from the strain of her muscles being flexed eventually necessitates that she shift her foot, but in doing so she nudges against one of the cases and causes it to rattle against a few of the other things around it. It's not a loud noise, but it sounds that way in the quiet. It might not even penetrate the shell of the wall, but Chani freezes up once it echoes out through the car and her fingers tighten on the haft of the spear that she's using for balance.

With all the happenings, Rune thinks it may be best that he's hidden for now. Without anything but a lightsaber to defend himself, and not being the best wordsmith one would hope for, getting out of a situation with either would be a bit noticeable. Still, it looks like Jax has things under control for now... and then Aryn falls off the train and Chani announces her position. His eyes widen when the woman stalks toward some Stormtroopers, finding his hand slip closer and closer to the pouch with the hilt inside. Hopefuly, /hopefully/ the Stormtroopers buy all of that, are deaf, and leave them alone.

"Eh...good luck. Tyrena's docks are backed up twice as long." The officer passes Jax his datapad back and offers a little upnod to the train and presumed contents. "They'll be quick about it, won't hold you up too long. Word is a delivery truck was found earlier in the week, loaded with enough Nuclear Fusion cores to melt the entire southeast sector. Nasty business, that, so security's seen a small...." a pained look goes over yonder to the young woman tumbling out of a distant car and stomping her way by a pair of the boarding troopers. "...upgrade."

Meanwhile, about eighteen minutes from the well-intended 15 minute heads-up transmitted during their ride, a rather bulky cargo truck is nosing its way out of line to expedite (initiate) the offloading process. Just another impatient driver in a backed up station, yeah?

"What the...HALT!" The Stormtrooper Sergeant starts trotting in its direction to intercept. It's snugged up perpendicular to cars 20 and 21, back end eeeeasing toward the gap between the cars and ramp that exists there. The driver, wearing a nondescript jumpsuit with nametag and company logo, leans out the window to exchange pleasantries.

Aryn gets a sideways look from the troopers she marches on by, one going as far as continuing their head swivel till it can't anymore, but neither moves to assist or interrupt her present course. The two troopers in the lead cars have since boarded and are methodically making their way through one car after the next. Likewise, the pair assigned the middle section have progressed through 18, 19, 20....and emerge into that wide gap in time to see their Sgt get into a verbal altercation with the driver of the prematurely-linked truck. Ho boy. It's there that they hesitate, unsure if they ought to lend a little muscle to the showdown or....

"Hey," one of the two tips their helmet into the 21st car. Did you hear..." Fifteen rows of Helper Droids stare silently back at them. "..Nevermind."

There's still nothing for him to do, which is good! Because the only reason he's really along for the ride is if all hell breaks loose and they have to make things messy. Shemar at least doesn't seem to mind being squat down and leaning against a crate in a tight spot. His muscles aren't happy about it but so far he's not getting cramped and wiggly. Yet.

He does turn his head when he hears Chani move. No interest in changing position to another location. His distraction keeps him from being able to over hear what's going on outside other than the sound of a truck and muffled voices.

Jax aka Kern accepts the datapad back, "No such thing as an easy break these days. See you next time we come through with a run." THen he turns to see Aryn and the driver of the delivery truck arguing with the stormtrooper Sergeant situations. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Mom said there would be days like this." Then he leaves Aryn figuring his fellow knight had some plan or ploy going on, he makes his way to the Ranger and the Stormtrooper. "Ekins! Are you hassling this poor Stormtrooper? He just trying to do his job. If you keep hassling him, we can't unload for Corsec HQ. We got a deadline to meet!" He stands to the side, "I'm sorry trooper, I'm Kern Soolivan with the Helper Droid Company. These men were just following orders to get their cargo to CorSec HQ in a timely manner. Is there something I can do to rectify the situation and ensure that we happily comply?"

Aryn is thankful to be away from the troopers and immediate danger, and it seems her accident paid off in seeming genuine. The medic makes it to the end of the train before rounding the back and starting up the other end. With any luck, she'll meet back with Ban, and he could give her instructions on what to do next.. otherwise she might appear clueless, but that seems pretty 'in character' too, she reasons. Unaware of the oogling eyes training her stern, Aryn moves out of view and storms up the other end of the train, hopeful eyes expecting to see the tall, highborn companion on his way to raid the mini-fridge.

Nothing comes of the rattling from the case and the other things it bumps into, but Chani doesn't relax. Her breathing is quiet, but shallow, and the way she's wedged into her position helps her feel the throb of her heartbeat as it sends blood rushing to all the areas that are starting to become numb. The train has been stopped for awhile and her muscles are starting to scream at her because of the fatigue setting into them. Her fingers grip the haft of the spear tightly enough that her knuckles are blanched a brighter color than the rest of her skin. Her jaw muscles stand out against the angles of her face because of the way her teeth are clenched. This is far too much discomfort to try and tackle controlling the sensation.

Rune too doesn't move from his position, he's comfortable enough behind his boxes and crates of goods, hazel eyes dancing over the multiple goings on around them. He does lean his head to press against the side of the train, eyes narrowing while he tries to get an earful of what's happening on the other side of the wall. "A Huttsucker?" the young Ysannan whispers, "That doesn't sound too pleasant." A shake of his head accompanies the yelling of the Holler he hears outside, thinking some people are just too uptight for their job. Seemingly out of danger for now, his hand pulls away from the pouch containing high lightsaber. Rune vows that, the next time he's on an undercover mission, he'll bring along appropriate everything, including weaponry... even if he doesn't know how to use them.

"Yeah," The Sergeant grunts, turning around with carbine stayed at half mast but gesturing to the truck with it. "Tell CorSec to keep their hounds on a tighter leash. Next one to bark might lose some teeth." Followed by a mutter of not havin' time for this sort of shavit. They continue to loiter nearby, though, passing inscrutible stares(from behind their visor) between this truck and another that's making slow progress toward the rear car.

Wait.

"HAIL ALL PICKUPS NOW" The Sgt points a meaningful finger with vocoded bellow at the civilian 'officer' who'd been checking credentials. "NOBODY approaches until we've given the all clear." And then they are setting off to accost the other, soon-to-arrive driver with a bit more vigor than the first, most likely.

Ambling through from car 33 to 32, the rear pair of troopers continue to scan between rows of droid bodies - so far, so good, so boring. Likewise in the fore cars, as that pair passes from car 8 to 9. Here in the middle, though...

<<"..."> There's a moment of silence when the first of two troopers files into car 22 from 21, ignoring the sounds of lowering ramp and clanking machinery behind them from said car 21. The sudden change in scenery is worth taking a moment to process. Their head visibly goes on a swivel, angling from one barren wall to the heap of junk, to the table, to the...fridge?

<<"And /you/ thought the Mess was bad...">> their comrade enters in from behind, quicker to judge what appears to be a makeshift break room for --

<<"HEY!">> The shape of somebody lurking materializes out of the dim and the first trooper's rifle motions meaningfully in that direction. <<"All personnel are required to disembark. Name and assignment.">> It's more of a demand than question, really.

The grudgingly approved truck deploys two people out its back end with remote to the truck's cargo loader. One person goes inside of car '21' and hits a button on the wall that awakens the track and sends those Helper Droids into the awaiting arms of loader, one by one. So. Much. Noise.

Jax nods, "Yes sir." Jax says as he steps back and gives the trooper some room. The the sarget is giving the order not to approach. This causes Jax to apparently lose his shivat. "Sir! SIR! What's wrong! I have hired Mercs that are on an approved list of security specalist put out by the First Order. I have thier TPS cover letters. I was assured that would get me through secruity without a problem and expressly. I've follow all the requirements and have my papers in order. If my next set of droids don't make it to the spaceport for the Kaut flight. I've been told by First Order Officals that the fault will fall on my company. That General Gurding is expecting them on a deadline. I'm going to have to explain why a sargent held us up. I need your identification."

Aryn makes it back to the originating car and takes to climbing back up to get inside. This time, she accomplishes a task competently, and emerges back where her companions wait in the shadows. Her wrist has swollen up a bit, but by Aryn's observation, it is only a strain and not a break. Thankfully, it was the hand she uses less, but she cradles it all the same.

There had been a lot of movement outside, and troopers had been scanning the interior of the train cars. She wondered if they had made it to this point yet.

When he realizes he's somehow been seen and hears the 'HEY' directed at himself followed by the rest, Shemar moves to stand slowly. He yawns and rubs one eye, "Are we there yet? Wish'd they give us some caf on these trips." Try to to keep the Trooper distracted for Rune or Chani to knock this jerk out or something.

"Oh, yeah. My ID's right here." Shemar stays where he is behind the crate so his gloved hand can 'fumble' in his pocket for his ID, then hold it out - but see if he can get the trooper to come closer and lean in to take what he's holding. It's actually a credit chit mostly covered by his gloved fingers so it's hard to see in the dim, flickering lighting.

As much as he can, Shemar's keeping his rifle down and hidden behind the crate but if he has to step out, it will suddenly be obvious that he's excited to see you!

'Oh kriff....' Rune whispers, having picked up a few choice words from his time around the more colorful characters of the Jedi Order. His hand delves into his pouch, fingers clenching around the lightsaber hilt, and he... pauses to think for a moment. Rey would approve thought and use of the Force before use of their weapons, perhaps he should try something different, perhaps he should... what? The native Ossusian remembered a time where one of the Jedi convinced a Stormtrooper to leave them alone, just by manipulating the Force to sway their mind. Maybe he could do that?

His hand extends from his hiding spot to wave two fingers, concentrating on the white plated man pointing the blaster at their compatriot at the other end of the car. Rune commands him, "You do not need him to go outside, you and your companion need to leave the train, this car is fine as is."

The gig almost goes up. Stormtroopers board the car that she, Shemar, and Rune are on, and Chani prepares to leap up out of her spot if things start to go south. She doesn't see the motion Rune makes with his hand, but in the otherwise quiet car, she can hear the man talking, and she recognizes the words that he's saying. It works out for Ensign Eisley, because the troopers no longer have a reason to stick around thanks to the influence of the Force. She hopes, anyway. It's always a tricky thing hoping that the subtle machinations of one mind are going to work against another, and there's no telling how strong-willed either of the two plasteel armored individuals are. She waits with baited breath, still hunched down into her spot.

The plasteel hand guard halts just shy of Shemar's hand, prepared to take the offered 'ID' for inspection when suddenly...

Why are they even wasting another second in this car? It's fine, nothing out of sorts in here!

<<"C'mon,">> they say gruffly to their compatriot, who is already putting one boot in front of the other to continue their interrupted course. It's a tense ten seconds or so as they flank that pile of junk and march toward the rear of the car and the hatchway there that leads into '23'. Both figures pause within poking distance of the woman and her spear, but neither seem to take notice. <<"Four more to go, keep sharp">>

Sharp, indeed.

They file out and leave the car in peace.

In the car on opposite end, about half the droids are cleared out, then the process halts. A face peeps into car 22, scoping it out, and offers a little click of teeth. "Oy, chumanis, let's go, hey? The /actual/ delivery truck's due to show in...sooner than we'd like. So." Giving their bogus name tag a flick, they stare at the seemingly spartan car. "Where's the goods?"

A shock of mussed, auburn hair spills out over his forehead from under an ill-fitting safety helmet, labeled 'Panther Freight and Haul'. Hazel eyes turn expectantly around the dimly lit room, seeking into the shadows just a minute before they wave in a coworker - TWO coworkers - and a crate hauled between them. It's dropped in the center near the junk pile, lid opened, and foot thumps the bottom right corner to pop the false bottom. "Got seven more of these and a few hollow Helper chassis to fill."

Rune watches the two Stormtroopers walk by and out of the car with a surprised expression on his face. "That worked, I cannot believe that worked." He remarks, looking at his hand in wonder. The Force truly does work in mysterious ways. Anyhow, back to the matter at hand... once the smugglers arrive and show how the crate works, with the false bottom being activated by a thump at the bottom right corner, the young Ysannan moves to help. He goes from one of the crates to another, removing the lid and thumping, with his foot, the bottom right corner of the cargo crate. He works as quickly as he can, trying to expedite the process to get them out before the real unloaders arrive.

Jax aka Kern Soolivun was standing there in off the rack business suit complete with half cape. He's trying to present all his credentials and manifests to the storm trooper sargent. "Sir, I've got a schedule to meet and I assure you everything is by the datapad. I spent the last week ensuring that we meet every First Order regulation and hiring only certified mercs. We've not ran into any issues. I even have my 619-002 completed from the time we left the station."

Aryn arrived in the car /just/ as the stormtroopers were /prompted/ to move to the next, and wave of stress left her shoulders as she came to realize how this must have been possible. Looking to Rune, Aryn nodded her head with approval. "Well done, sir."

Now for the matter at hand; they needed to facilitate the smuggling of the goods and do it quickly. The Noble, who normally had a retainer of her own to see matters like these dispensed was not beyond getting her hands dirty. Figuratively speaking, that is, she still wore gloves. She focused on moving things to the locations it needed to go, staying quiet and following instructions. At times, she had to squat down, testing the tension of the tight-fitting military gear with which she wore. "..do not lift with your back.." She chided herself, straining to do so with her legs but accomplishing just that, for now. Exhaustion began to manifest with sweat, and the redness in her cheeks. Aryn was even breathing hard before too long.

"It's true about the 619!!" The presiding dock master of this platform call out with half a care over shoulder. He's not much concerned if Mr Kern Soolivun takes some flack from the local infantry, if it keeps them off his shadow for a little while. The anxious agent paces his way back to the front of the train, giving a wide berth to the truck being loaded midway. Another train is due to arrive...very soon.

<<"Everyone's got a schedule and the best way to /keep/ on that schedule is to obey protocol.">> The trooper points a finger at his fancy little cape slung over shoulder. <<"If everything's above table, you'll be fine." And if it's not...well, that 'if' remains unspoken but surely mutually understood.

The team is HUSTLING. Breaking sweat. Rifles get tossed down lines of hands, cases of power packs, grenade cartridges, medkits following suit. The rifles are laid down into the bottoms of all the crates first, then gaps filled with emptied kit contents until the ridge marking those false bottoms are met. The falsies are snapped back into place, then bits and pieces of all that /junk/ heaped on the floor is tossed halphazardly on top. Filled almost to brim.

And repeat.

When the last two crates are being loaded, the lead Ranger disappears for a hot minute, comes back with a droid rolled manually along. All of its compartment doors are popped open to reveal emptiness within. It's just a shell. Detonation cartridges," he pats it on the head and helps a team member lug the second-to-last full crate out.

Meanwhile, the mid-car troopers have finished their search and file out off car number 26 where they are soon met by the pair scoping the rear cars. <<"Clear?">> <<"All's clear back there. Nothin but droids. And one cranky driver.">> <<"Same.">> A gloved thumb gestures over shoulder to the current smuggling operation underway.

The young Jedi beams at Aryn's compliment, feeling rather pleased with himself at resolving the issue through non-violent means... their teacher would be pleased as well. This is the first time since his training began that he was able to complete a task without resorting to assistance from someone else or use of his lightsaber and it gives the Ysannan hope that he's progressing in becoming more of what he hopes to be.

His mind wanders as he continues with the manual effort of helping the smugglers, though the advice was to herself, Rune takes note and lifts with his legs instead of his back a nod of appreciation given to his fellow Jedi. Once all the labor is complete, he steps back to await further instructions, an eyebrow lifting at the droid that had been wheeled onto the train cart. "We are blowing the cart up?" He asks, looking to Aryn and Chani for the answer.

Jax nods, "That's what I'm trying to say sir. Everything IS above board. I'm trying to make this as efficent as possible." He looks over his shoulder for a second trying to decide if he should plant that seed in the Sargents mind or trust the team. Welp no one is shooting yet. So he lets out a exhale. " Speaking of schedules, You by chance didn't see the Anti-Grav ball scores did you? The Coruscant Cavliers were playing the Kaut Eopies and it should be half time. I didn't have signal on the train. "

"I know little of such aspirations, truth be told. Is someone in charge here?" Aryn asks, wanting clarification too. Because if this thing was scheduled to blow up, that was not in the travel brochure. The last effort is made to complete the offload, and by the end of it, Aryn is wiped. She has to wipe her face, and fan with her hand to interject some cooler air to help her cool off. In the back of her mind, she was already imagining a nice shower.. or a bath. Or a bath shower. Something deep cleansing and relaxing; maybe some soft tunes, a glass of wine or chilled brandy, oooh, or a sherry.

Aryn licks her lips, looking absent amidst such thoughts and staring a hole into one of the bulkheads for a moment longer than she should.

"NO!" One of the delivery loaders - a woman with ashen curls heaped atop her head under a too-big safety hat - halts Rune's train of thought before it can get too far down the tracks. "These.." she picks up two hands full of the cartridges "go inside," and packs them accordingly. It's not possible for her eyes to get much wider, probably.

A second 'droid' is rolled in.

Outside the car, the trooper pair that was searching the first fifteen emerges and waves an arm at those down the line. All clear!

As for Jax's new friend, the Sergeant just STARES at him, long and hard, mask an emotionless void. The helmet rocks back and forth just once, dismissing his question before he pivots on heel and begins to march briskly toward the waving pair. <<"Copy, contents cleared.">> The other four are walking in line with one another to catch up...eventually.

The first droid is wheeled out and tucked into line with a couple others that've just come off the rack and onto their truck's loader. It isn't hooked up, but it manages to stay wedged where it's at and stealthily lowers into its new home. Just in time.

At the 'all clear' command from the Sgt over comms, a small parade of delivery trucks are advancing on the train in orderly, single-file line. If they don't hurry, there's going to be some splainin to do!

Kern aka Jax frowns as the Sargent doesn't answer him but doesn't take the Sargents time up anymore. He tucks away the datapad and turns to start walking towards the train. His shoulders lowered a bit, "Must Not be an anti-grav ball fan." He says quietly as he goes. He wasn't trying to look rushed about the job but looked rushed enough as he was complaining about keeping a schedule up.

"I sense the time for urgency is upon us. This crushing weight from stress, the need to move faster.. it is exhilarating. To think.." Aryn says, winded, moving something else heavy to alleviate the task at hand, "..there are those who make a living from such adventure, under such pressure." It's hard to tell if Aryn sounds envious, or respectful, of those who do this day in and out. "Have we more to complete ere we move on to the next task? What is the next task?" Suddenly the briefing they had wasn't ringing any bells for Aryn. If there were a definition for 'Lost in the Sauce', Aryn's likeness might be conveyed as its meaning. When she got nervous, she talked.

Chani walks her hands up the haft of the spear and uses it to hoist herself up to her feet. She does so with a hiss and an unadulerated expression of pain reflective of the ache that throbs through her thighs and legs. Her back presses against the side of the car to alleviate some of the pressure on her muscles, but she doesn't have long to get it together. The group they're delivering these supplies to is here and needs help making sure the equipment is loaded into the hidden compartments so the delivery can complete itself. Squeezing out from behind the place that she's hidden, Chani leaves the spear leaned up against a rack and pitches in to help them complete the last of what's at hand.

Rune blinks at the quick correction by the second delivery loader, watching as she takes the cartridges and places them inside the droid. "Aaaaaah, ok. That is a much better plan." He agrees, packing the rest of the droid's empty compartments with the cartridges as shown. Once complete, he moves to the second droid and packs it likewise full. He nods and steps back as the droids are wheeled out of the cart, watching as their handiwork is shifted on to the truck to begin its next journey.

The novice Jedi shrugs at Aryn's wonderings, certainly not sure himself of what the plan is. "I am only here to help, being in control of the plan was not my personal mission." Maybe he should have made it such since the group of them stands around looking confused, uncertain of what to do next in the smuggling operation.

"Good, good, good..." the auburn-haired man is back, whilst curly-haired woman wheels the second droid out. "You pass our gratitude on up the chain, yeah? We've about stocked our little hub in Tyrena, so that'll be two vantage points, here in the south. Won't be long before we've got useful tips to send your way." He has barely broken a sweat under the strain thus far and pats the last hatch shut in their third mule droid. A long stretch is luxuriated in, just for a second, before an impatient voice buzzes into the comm tucked in his ear. He tabs a toggle on shoulder and says "Yeah yeah...got it. We're transferring the last load now, then out. Can you move to stall?"

<<"Can a tailring spit venom?">>

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back there, around car number 37 of 38, that 2nd almost-stopped delivery truck abruptly reverses its course and becomes a most inconsiderate obstacle for the inbound convoy of legitimate trucks seeking droids. "SORRY!" is waved out the window, then it's lurched into forward gear again, except loses its back half. Messily. Tips over and everything.

"What an nerfbrain," said mostly affectionately when the man re enters the car after a brief peek out at the carnage down yonder. "That's it, then. Hang tight here, soon as the other drivers pickup their actual deliveries, you'll be on return route to Bindreg Hills."

And then....then there's a terrible sound.

The second droid had become jostled loose while loading onto truck and tipped over...out...onto platform. Not one, but two compartments have popped open and spilled assorted reloads for glop grenades.

Curly-hair remains frozen atop the train's ledge. Maybe....maybe they didn't notice?

The Sgt turns around.

No, they noticed.

Rune was just about to congratulate the group on a job well done, the notice of the First Order passed them by, and they managed to escape all notice when the droid falls back to spill some of its contents onto the ground. "Kriff..." He says for the second time in nearly as many minutes, hazel eyes snapping down the gangway toward the gathered Stormtroopers who regrettably turn and look.

It worked once before, let's see if it does again... one hand slips into his pouch to feel for the lightsaber hilt, in case things go poorly, the other hand extends toward the lead bucket head and he waves two fingers. "Nothing is amiss, gather your men and leave." Rune commands the leader, putting all the power of the Force behind his words in an attempt to get them to go.

Jax nearly stops and uses the force to affect the Sargent's mind but he sees Rune interceed and do what he had planned and can feel the force stir around Rune and the storm trooper. He turns and moves to the droid knocked over. "Kriff, This is valuable product. You guys are careless." He says moving to grab glop grenade ammo and goes to shoving them back into the droid. Get this thing packed up and out of here before this blows up our schedule."

The color left Aryn's face completely when the droid crashed and 'product' went everywhere. Rather than comment, her reaction was to step back into the train car, out of immediate view, and raise her hand, halting the grenades from going all over kingdom come prior to Jax picking them up. Having them reorganized in a single, orderly place allowed the Corellian to do his part quickly, and stuff those explosives back in there. "Mayhaps a strap ought be used to hold the droids in place to prevent further exposure.." Said in that 'common sense' tone to the red head soldier, but all it accomplished was conveying a posh condescending tone that did not match the innocent expression on Aryn's face. Oh, maybe it was a genuine suggestion, then!

This operation has been on the cusp of failure since they arrived at the station and Chani, like all the others, can only stare with some semblance of surprise as the droid tips over and spills its contents. The speed that the others leap in to deal with the situation means her mouth is still slightly agape and she's still staring by the time it's all said and done. Tightening her lips, Chani begins moving towards the delivery trucks in the hope that they'll soon simply board them and leave. It's clear the longer they're here, the more opportunities are going to arise for things to go wrong, and given the amount of them that have already headed that route.. Chani is not confident that much more time spent here will end well.

The ST Sgt's rifle is already at half mast by the time his thought process gets interrupted. There's a very tense moment's pause - for both him and likely those involved in the operation. What was...huh.

The obnoxious suit bent over the spilled droid, collecting its pieces is an irritant under his skin, sure, but was he really about to SHOOT him? It may be time for a break.

<<"Move on,">> the Sgt commands his troops with an untranslated tone of annoyance behind that mask. <<"Next arrival in five.">>

Could it REALLY be that simple? It...it might be.

For all her good intentions, Aryn gets an unfriendly scowl from the one she'd offered construction criticism to. There's a flash of heat in his eye - a fleeting glimpse of the dangerous personality lurking under this cordial enough exterior - with a side of Corellian swagger. "I dunno what the hell's happenin' out there, but I'm not about t'look stupid in the mouth. Get that heap'o'scrap back on the damn truck. NOW!"

The order's barked to one and all, his head turning to fix a steady glare on the woman who'd been in the process of loading. There'll be words later, for sure.

Slowly, slowly, slowly and a /little/ surely, the tipped backend of their second, decoy delivery truck is being jacked into an upright position and fitted back to its cab. Five minutes more maybe and that increasingly angry line of backed up traffic is gonna get through.

His shaking hand lowers and he watches as the Sergeant drops the tip of his blaster to turn to his crew and ferret them away from the team. A line of sweat had broken out on Rune's brow and he takes this time to dab it away with the sleeve of his borrowed uniform. A deep breath later and he's looking to the rest of the crew, a wide smile that betrays the nervousness felt being given to them all. "T..that was a little too close." Rune remarks, another deep and centering breath taken before he leans against he train wall to slide down it in exhaustion.

Jax knows better than to look at gift eopie in the mouth especially on a mission. He stands up and moves to adjust his dishelved cape back into position and find himself taking just the briefest of moments to adjust his clothing and his dishevled hair. His expression rest to somebody middle management and apearing to poorly ape the bearing, nature, and confidence that comes so naturally to Aryn and other members of the noblity class. He turns his nosie up in the air and begins to walk away like he owns the train station and towards the extraction point. Though he does glance to Rune with the expression of, 'Get the Kriff Out.' It's fleeting as he goes and he makes his salmon colored business suit work.

"I believe it is our time to depart," Aryn says aside to Chani, before climbing off the car to make for the extraction zone. She waits for Chani, then orients toward the exit and strides that way with a proper, not in a hurry, walk. Without the cape, and in formfitting para-military attire, Aryn's confidence manifests in a natural sway of her hips. Her medical satchel marked her for the mercenary medic, and she had little else to linger at the station for unless there was to be combat. Mother above, let there be no combat, she prayed, hands locking at her lower back to keep them from fidgeting nervously.

"Let's hope." Unlike the posh noble, Chani has no such trouble with contractions or sounding like a commoner. Her family might have been well off, but born in the lap of luxury she was not. She joins the blonde in her trip towards the exit, hoping that the presence of her armor and spear don't really draw so much attention and only go so far as to generate the perception that she is the guard that she is. She uses the edge of the haft as a makeshift walking staff, and it donks against the duracrete with every step. Chani casts a glance back at the paltform, hoping that the next time that she sees it, it won't be under such circumstances and with such company waiting to greet them. The shipment hopefully helps towards that goal.

<<"Helpers are loaded">> the Ranger's driver climbs back into the truck while his two comrades close themselves up inside with the goods. <<"Panther Freight's on the move.">> And not a moment too soon, because the REAL Panther Freight is on approach now.

Oh snap.

Time slows for that driver as one passes by the other, getting a good look at the man he was impersonating. If ever there was a chance for the freight company to get justice for the theft they're on the verge of discovering, now would be the time...

And it passes. The real Cal Dakken is too steamed over the delay and has his stare fixed forward with zero cares for anything else in the moment. It is his loss.

Just a few minutes more and the small batch of Corellian Rangers have disappeared into plain sight, merging with the rest of speeder traffic and driving away to freedom...

As for the Republic's shipment of bodies, they are now on their own to get to the extraction point, located in the backroom of Mogen's Meats. Because that's where the floor grate is that leads to the understreet drainage.

At least Aryn will get to rinse away her sweat...?

To his credit, Rune notes Jax's look and hightails it from the train on the salmon wonder's heels. He takes a second to peer behind him at the organizing chaos while the truck they just helped to load begins moving away. "That was too close at many different times. A job well done though, I would say." the Ysannan remarks with a widening smile, his hands tucked into this most unusual things on his trousers that someone called 'pockets'. They're extra-ordinary really, he needs to have more of these sewn into his voluminous pants. He double times to catch up with Aryn and Chani, falling into stride with his fellow Jedi while they make their way to the extraction point, not quite out of the woods yet but definitely in view of the clearing.

Jax looks at Rune as they move along, "Uh-huh and we don't talk about things till we're safely at home." He says quietly as he walks along and reaches up to undo the half cape leaving it drapped over a the back of a chair and grabbing man's jacket left on a seat unattended. The reason it was left behind is it smelt horrible not the sewer horrible. It was also three sizes to big for Jax. So by the time he meets people at the meat place, he's let his long hair down out of it's pony tail. Pulled out a pair of cheap tinted glasses and an oversized bomber jacket. Jax looks like the worst Zhu Yan cosplayer in the galaxy wearing a salmon colored dress shirt. He looks down at himself. "I'm beginning to regreat my life decision. Into the sewer we go."