Summary: Tyr'en and Zebulon meet after to discuss supplies and frequencies.
Date: 14/03/2011
Related Logs: Arrays and Dates
Tyren Zebulon 
Iron Aegis Lounge - Dantooine
Filled with couches and sunken sitting areas for those of IA to gather and relax.
21 (last few months)

Sitting on one of the circular couches in the corner with a table pulled up close, Eirian has shucked her shoes and is dressed down into her sweat pants and a side fastening high necked tank. A fan of datapads spreads out around her and she is going over the different comsys and their needed upgrades, stylist to her lip as she taps it against the corner. Eirian, now once more Tyr'en back on the base stretches and arm up with a sigh and yawn, the caf on the table growing cold.

"Frel its chilly.." She mutters and rubs at her right lekku a moment before she scrolls down on the right base com array readouts.

Zebulon has a headset on as he enters the common room. Expression drawn into a studious frown, he inputs commands into his own datapad, mouth moving soundlessly along with whatever is playing into his headset. His attire-minus the jacket, is the same as he tends to wear. You can tell he's relaxed because the jacket is off. Brown eyes scan the room as he walks in, noting the sitting twi'lek, his eye returns to the datapad. "Lieutenant," he greets, voice just a touch louder than it needs to be, in the habit of people with headphones in.

She's not deaf, actually quite good hearing so as he heightens his voice to be heard over his own music, she lifts a brow. "Agent.." She scoots a little, pulling her stuff to give him more room and she makes a motion with her hand for him to take a seat. Seeing as he can't quite hear her, she's not about to get loud and obnoxious for his attention. She tries to talk to him, "Got some caf, haven't touched it." she offers, motioning then to glass during her continued mime.

Zebulon draws off the headset, after his greeting is given, inputting a command into the datapad which ends the playback. In that brief moment, a few words of Huttese might catch a keen ear. The talk of caf draws a deadpan, "Then how can I be sure it's safe?" from the human, before he sets down datapad and headset on a vacant seat cushion, and moves to pick up a cup.

Resting one arm on the back of the couch and placing her hand to her cheek, Tyr lifts a brow and says dryly back, "You don't. Guess you will just have to trust me…" She holds a datapad in one hand and with a practiced air, uses her thumb to span down the screen with the same hand. She gets comfortable on her knees, the side of her body settled against the back cushions in her odd way of enjoyment. She had yet to reveal the results of the wager with the Shistavanen. "So, lets get everything you need written down..alright? Or are you going to take the time to run a toxicology test on the caf?" She says, violet eyes watching him.

"Not necessarily," Zebulon returns to her statement that he'll have to trust her. By the time Tyr makes her joke about the toxicology tests, he's actually drawn out the same sensor pack he'd used before. Useless in scanning for toxins, he goes through the show of running a scan, anyway. Replacing the scanner, he pours a cup of caf and voices, "New item, related: base security. Investigate possibility of inverted cloaking device. Exterior scans of this position should be blocked if able.

She gives a rueful smirk at his show and then is about to say something when he gives his additive to the list. Eirian begins to input the correct code for it and details, drawing her arm off the back of the couch to use both sets of fingers to accomplish the task. "Copy." she says. "Sienar Design Systems will need to be contacted for that or will be looking black market for such a thing." She advises him. "And what was with speaking that dirty Hutt tongue just a moment ago?" She asks wryly.

"Subspace communications out of Nar Shaddaa- which would be an alternative market, if Sienar Systems is not a viable option," Zebulon answers, taking a first taste of the caf. "The first stage of any successful operation is surveillance. The objectives I've been given require that certain subjects in the Hutt sector be monitored." Regarding the twi'lek, he adds, "Is your Huttese fluent? Because analyzing comm chatter is terribly time consuming." There's a faint hint of irony beneath his even tone.

"It's like a sad requirement for twi'lek that we know it. Sort of a way of being prepared." The bounties would prove that. She shifts closer then, setting down her datapad and extending her hand for his own that is hooked up to the headphones, she curls her fingers a little to instruct him to hand it over. "Time consuming? Try realigning a capships sensor array! You better know binary and the codeline to boot." She ughs.

"Re-aligning sensor arrays.." Zebulon echoes, thoughtfully. "Yes, I think there was a section of the comm traffic which discussed that very subject. You see, the mercenary fleet of the Hutt Cartel was not up to the same sensor standards the Hutts wished, which required realignment to the arrays of seven ships." The datapad is provided and access opened for Eirian to listen in as desired, and the conversation is audible. "Sriluur system docking control. Although half the declared transponder codes are likely counterfeit, it does reflect the system traffic, and the ports they set into," is a brief summary of what she will hear.

Placing the headphones up to her earnubs, they fit awkwardly but do the trick. She settles in, clicking it to start to the feed back. As she listens a moment, she reaches over to her side and pulls up her sensor base line code and then uploads cross checks for transponders. "Half of these don't even match the code for creating valid transponder codes. It was done by someone who wasn't clean…and wanted in and out fast with no commitment to a good crew. Smugglers…pirates most likely." She frowns again and presses her hand to the headphone and then narrows her gaze further, "I have a valid transponder code paired with an invalid…" That confuses her a moment as she pauses the sound and picks up her pad, starting to ravage through it with a flurry of her green fingers.

"As I said," Zebulon notes after taking a good gulp of the hot caf, "Time consuming." A drawn breath, "However, the well constructed codes- rather, the seemingly valid ones-" because really- who goes through Hutt space with their real transponder broadcasting? "Give a good indication of where the higher priority vessels are bound. Also, over the course of several days, some vessels land, but no matching transponder is given by any vessel leaving the atmosphere for hyperspace clearance."

"Okay yeah, this is going to take hours just getting the transponders sorted out and timestamped, not to mention destinations needing to be confirmed…." Her head is already spinning. "Okay…so you want help with this?" She says to him. Eirian shuts off the feed back and lets her violet eyes settle on him for a very long moment. "What am I getting in return?" Perhaps trade and wagers were sinking into her blood.

"Apart from contributing to the operational efficiency of the organization?" Zebulon asks, deadpan. "What sort of 'return' are you negotiating for?" the agents wonders, regarding the twi'lek with affected suspicion narrowing his eyes. It doesnt linger long, before drawing a second gulp of the caf. Apparently he drinks it faster than he drinks spiced ales.

"You wire me for this supposed date? I would like to see what else I can find out about this agent of the Republic.." Tyr'en says and then smirks at him. "You are supposed to be good at that stuff. If you do, this.." She pats the datapad. "Is taken care of. And stop staring at me like I have two heads. You need to get over your built in reactions." Sighing, the twi'lek keeps his readouts and will work on them, "Alright, back to your list. What else did you want?"

"They're called 'conditioned responses' for good reason, Eirion," Zeb returns, dryly at her scolding. "Besides, I am staring as if you have three heads. There is a difference." A breath is drawn in thought on the more important issue. "A wire can be arranged. However, if the Shistavenan brings a second white-noise generator, a recording may be compromised. I'll consider the problem, but our present resources are limited in regards to espionage."

"I have any case." She points out. "Eirian is my code name while outside this base. But if that is what you choose to be it." Tyr'en does not care either way, it may be better if he chooses to continue to call her Eirian for safeties sake. "Sorry I didn't win that bet." She frowns some, "Thought I was going to get you that encryption bit you wanted." She laments and then picks up her growing list of goods the base needs.

"The nature of wagering with unknown quantities lends itself to uncertain results," Zebulon notes on the subject of the wager. "Coincidentally, the same rule applies to the nature of battles, and contests of any other sort. Still," he adds, "It was a good thought." A drawn breath as he drains the last of the caf, before addressing the twi'lek. "Eirion is the name I am familuar with. Do you prefer being called something else?"

"Yeah, well…I knew my quantity in tha wager and I could have sworn I was going to win…" She says thoughtfully and then shakes her head at his next question and gives a wave of her green fingers. "No, Eirian is just fine. Quite fine." She says to him, giving him a toss of one of her datapads. "Here" She intones, "Fill out what you need…I gotta report for sensor relay sweeps soon and need to get changed." Up all night and continuing on.

Zebulon nods once. "Hmm," he voices to the subject of names, before catching the tossed datapad, and eyeing it, leaving Tyr holding the one he had brought. Glancing back up to the twi'lek he nods once in parting. "Will bring this by the sensor staion when the additons are complete."

There is a slow nod from Eirian as she gathers up her other pads with his. The green female catches them up in a satchel and slides it over her shoulder and across her chest. Sliding on her shoes, she wiggles her feet to get them them to enter fully and then lifts her chin to watch him a moment. "Alright, should be there for five hours. See you then, and remember, there is a budget." She gives him a faint smirk and then as she steps past him to get out of the circular area, pats his knee lightly.

“Only if we pay for it," Zebulon returns in that manner of his which makes the line between dead serious and deadpan jest so blurry at times. It's hard not to stare at the lekku.