[hr] 
[b]Outside the Briefing Room[/b]
[sub][i]aka. Jedi-wannabe ambush site[/i][/sub]

[hr]
"That's Captain Alpha-32 to you [i]Commander[/i] or is that [i]General?[/i]" invoking the Clone Wars-era title for padawans and knights respectively. It didn't take the Force to detect Besk's immediate antipathy for what the universe saw fit to fob off on him. Fett had a great draw, and his clones, particularly the ARC's and little Bob'ika inherited that and he was on the edge of getting that DL-44 out; it was in a fitted holster, designed to keep the weapon tightly wedged in there until pulled, but not too tightly so as to make the draw easy. Bantha-leather, softened up.

Of all the men on the ship to be sent to, Command saw fit to assign a would-be sabre-jockey to the command of the one man aboard the ship that'd killed a Jedi. 

He'd come away minus a leg, but he'd carried out the mission that had been envisioned when Jango cloned them. That much was apparent; Jango killed Jedi. They cloned an army of men capable of the same, at their basis. And, in the case of the ARCs, then had that man train them. He was old, but cunning replaced age, and the reflexes hadn't gone that far from their sublime peak. Battles, bounties, battles. He'd lived the life as designed and imagined, even if he'd taken twists and turns to get there. 

He took suspicion-slitted eyes off the woman, off the wrappings around the eyes, off the sabre, and down to the slate, which he scrolled over quickly, "No military experience, assigned to SpecForces. Not even drop camp." He had the accent still, the imprint of a clone's contact with their instructor and progenitor strong after all these years. Concord Dawn Mando boy. Fett meant 'farmer' but he'd never done a day of that in his life. She couldn't help but read him, he knew that much because he knew plenty about the Jedi. Too much. She probably was putting more than he would have liked together, but he wasn't of a mood to hide any of it from her. 

"Hope you realize that you're going to have to earn your creds around here. So, do you know the old mind trick?" 

[hr] 
[b]SpecForces Ready Room[/b]
[sub][i]aka. a very small space packed with gear and a shady array of the universe's scummier denizens who are the good guys but certainly don't comport themselves like it[/i][/sub]

[hr]
The plan was multi-layered, and hinged on one of the leakiest vessels Besk could ever imagine, but he took anything in his desperation to save his detachment from annihilation from a superior force in a hangar. Getting that spike into a comp terminal was not a job he wanted to trust to an astromech droid or even to a squad of men, knowing that they'd have to somehow slip off and do the job. One of his men might be able to do it, but there was no guarantees and he was loathe to send anyone out on their own to do it by themselves, unless that someone was himself. He couldn't necessarily pull that off for obvious reasons.

He was used to tough choices, but in this situation the roles were reversed. The Jedi used the clones as a tool and most of them, particularly that Yoda, looked upon them as a convenience rather than a slave army. They were expendable. He wasn't necessarily giving the woman more of a job than she could do, but he assigned her a task that he didn't want to delegate to others. The entire Republic, then the Empire, used clones for all kinds of dirty details. He almost wound up as a medical experiment at the end of his career as cannon fodder. His world was a place of moral ambiguities and sacrifices, dark pacts and unpleasant loose ends.

Now the Jedi, or close enough to it, was a tool under his command. She was there, along with the rest of Chakaar in the ready room, the Venator's plans displayed. They were also uploaded to slates for the rest of them to study in greater detail. The detailed operations orders were there, the briefing was broad strokes. The finalized version would pass through the hands of what were, after all, primarily NCO's with experience who would add touches to the plan. 

"As you know, the job is to grab an entire Venator. We insert by Laarty and create a diversion to slip the spike into the weapons system to disable them so the reinforcements can arrive. That is Specialist Tariim's job," word had already gotten around as to who she was in a tight-knit SpecForces community. It was specialists, death dealers and slicers, explosives gurus, sharpshooters, all around. 

"We're using the pretext of selling Clone Wars era tech to the Moff. I will be doing much of the talking," a fan of the era wouldn't be able to pass up the chance to discourse with an ARC, they were only getting rarer as they were getting older. 

"Our job is to keep the Moff going nice and calmly as long as possible but to take down the forces in the hangar and hold it until relieved. The longer we can keep up the charade of selling them the Laarties and some clankers we scraped up from the Admiral, the less time we spend under fire. Make no mistake, one of those can carry seven thousand troops. They say the complement is reduced and not Imperial, fringer types. Well, we're kriffing fringers and we know what that can be like and we have no idea what the numbers are. So we prepare to be outnumbered and outgunned."

The ARC's pointer moved around, illuminating elements of the plan as the data slates automatically followed the briefing, bringing up the pertinent technical data; Besk was essentially highlighting the most important poitns, the rest was outlining on the devises, "Once the weapons are down, the rest of Rancor moves in. We are playing it off as a delivery of a Juggernaut, but if they suspect at any time, we start firing from the Laarties; our techs are already modifying them for a quick-start so you should have only a few seconds until weapons are hot," He didn't add that he more or less, along with his Lieutenants, made it very clear to the Tech officer that they could replace the reactors on the Laarties afterward. It wasn't good for the lifespans of the power systems but Besk really didn't care.

"So that will help us to clear the hangar with the onboard weapons. Take them out fast, all costs, just don't do any structural damage."

A schematic of the hangar, its entrances and its control points were there for the men to envision the area they were going to fight in.

"Once we get the Keep docked and get the rest of Rancor on, our job will be to assist in taking the bridge and capturing high value targets.  We have also secured disruptor weapons. You're welcome." That, of course, would make the Alderaanians uncomfortable, but disruptors were nasty at close range, or at long if optimized for it. 

"Fast, hard, but don't damage the goods, especially the power plants. Limited explosives, for breaching. Use sonic grenades when you get the doors open. Unless it's an HVT with intel value, leave prisoners stunned for the infantry to pick up and keep moving."