"Sure doc, no problem."

"Well, if you guys are going to be going out hunting, I think I will do my part for the empire and go to investigate the bar". Den would declare as he shoulders his pack. "Right after dumping this stuff anyway, where are the rooms?" He was hoping he wouldn't have to share, it would make a nice change from the bunkrooms he had been living in. Those and the cells.

The Inquisitor looks at the hotel staff if his face would have been visible the meanest star would have been present, ignoring the comment that he may need a facial for choosing to wear helmet he simply speaks "Show me to my room, I will drop off my things myself." It was an order and he expected it followed.

“Of courssse, Inquisssitor, right thisss way.” The concierge slithers toward a console on the east side of the platform, keeping most of his body and head upright as he does so. Just beyond, an opening reveals a hallway running north to south, which the other hangar domes likely open onto as well. (Indicating the hall) “The long hall, overlooking the garden, leadsss to the resssort complex proper.”

Pressing a button, a circle of lights on the hangar deck about three meters across, starts to blink. “Thisss lift will take you below to your sssuite. Ssseaview roomsss in the wessst wing, garden view in the eassst, with common roomsss and refressshersss in between.” Ushering the members of the task force inside the circle, another button causes the round platform to slowly descend into the rock. When it opens up again, they find themselves in a lushly appointed salon.

“Pleassse sssettle in, and I will inquire about the posssibility of a night hunt, before the sssurgery in the morning. Cliffview housssesss sssome of the sssector’sss finessst chefsss and mixologissstsss, and boassstsss ressstaurantsss to sssuit all...” (The concierge can feel the glare of the Inquisitor through the mask, and trails off momentarily) “but the mossst dissscriminating of palatesss.”

An hour passes, as the members of the task force settle into their resplendent rooms. A chime indicates a visitor, and a small screen reveals a Squamatan in nurse’s attire at the door. It is difficult to discern his age, but he is clearly one of Doctor Vos’s native assistants, the deep blue of his ridged face contrasting starkly with the crisp white scrubs.

”Welcome to Cliffview Medical Spa and Retreat. I am Nurse Jamis Mas, here to take Doctor Taltron’s vitals, and provide pre-surgery instructions.”

Once inside the suite, the nurse permits a quick inspection of his kit, which reveals nothing out of the ordinary apart from the eye itself. “As a professional courtesy, Doctor Vos has provided the enhanced cybernetic eye for your inspection, though I will need it back for sterilization overnight.”

”I regret a hunting expedition is quite out of the question, prior to surgery. Your quick recovery is expected, however, and you should be ready for the hunt soon after. No food or drink after 0700 hours, you know the drill, Doctor.”

(Seeing in the background, that Den has already performed a precision raid on the minibar) “And no alcohol this evening, of course.” Nurse Mas seems prepared to wait patiently while Doctor Taltron and the team inspect his prospective new optics.

A stormtrooper, a scout trooper, and a TIE pilot walk into a bar. The bar itself is near the entrance, crafted of dark polished wood, gleaming in the subtle lighting from above. A tall woman with short blonde hair sits there alone, while a Kubaz behind the bar pours drinks for a droid waiter.

Six round tables dot the main floor, with six smaller tables along the rounded perimeter of the establishment, overlooking the water below. Most of the tables are occupied, and many have games going. The clientele consists of diverse species, including a fair number of Squamatan, as they had been led to expect.

The scene is fairly casual, with the high stakes games taking place elsewhere. The imperials would not be participating in those games, unless they could somehow convince their newly-commissioned Lieutenant-Inspector to disburse team funds for their gambling; in other words, not bloody likely.

A protocol droid approaches, and addresses them in a bored monotone that is remarkable even for a machine. “Are you here to dine or perhaps I might assist you in joining an open Sabacc game?” The RA-7 drones on: “Or mayhaps the gentlemen would prefer a good game of Dejarik?”

Speaking of the Lieutenant-Inspector, Briar is having some difficulty in tracking down the rogue Omwati slicer; in fact, she is afraid she has tipped her hand, and that her elusive prey has been made aware of her interest.

Slowly looking around, Hawk pulls out a chair on a Sabacc table. Slapping 50 credits onto the table, he indicates to the dealer he will play in the next round.

Hawk and Ral find a small table with a few openings, and join in a Sabacc game with a Squamatan, a Sullustan, and an Aqualish. At fifty credits, the buy in is relatively tame.

The game opens right away with the quick reversals of fortune commonly associated with the game, but the lucky pilot takes the first hand with a pure sabacc. “Pot goes to the newcomer, 225 credits, 25 to the house. Buy in for the next hand is 100 credits.” The Caamasi croupier calls out in his singsong voice, shuffling the cards in preparation for the next round.

The Aqualish scoots his chair back with a little more violence than is absolutely necessary, and heads to the bar.

"Ah, man, one less bet to win. Oh well, let's see if the 'newcomer's luck' holds out." Ral smiles to the rest of the table, perhaps showing a little more enthusiasm than he should so early on.

Once again, the cards go Ral's way. He smiles as he pulls the winnings his way. "Sorry, Hawk. Can't win them all. Maybe next time?"

Evon glances at the medical kit and probes the nurse a bit: ,,You are exceptionally well equipped, I hope it's not just for the show! Doctor Vos must have some well funded clientele." He examines the cybernetic with not much result. He hands it over to Hale: ,,I don't see anything out of ordinary. Unfortunately cybernetics is not my speciality" He turns back to the nurse and quickly assures him that he understand the instructions. ,,One more thing! Please don't forget that hiding the cybernetic behind synthskin is not neccessary. Leave the scar too. Only restore my eyesight."

The Caamasi croupier smiles, mostly with his eyes, as the beaked mouth reveals little. “Would the gentlemen care to up the ante? Say 500 credits?”

“I’m out.” The raised stakes scare off the Squamatan, leaving only the Sullustan with the two imperials. He seems to be considering the proposal.

Drogos having dropped off his things in the hotel room decides to head back to the ship to make some necessary edits to his helm. To make it fit in with Imperial Attire.

"Why not? I'm happy as long as I break even."

Hawk slowly pushes his chair out from the table, and goes looking for the hunting party, his credits drained.

The game continues for many hands, and Ral's pile of credits continue to grow, as well as the hangers-on and the offers of drinks.

The nurse accepts the cybernetic eye back and places it into a small case. “Of course, sir. Just the cyber implant, no cosmetic remediation. For an additional fee, your visage can be made into something truly grotesque, but I don’t think that’s quite what you’re going for?”

At the gambling table, Ral is enjoying a good run, but has effectively chased off the more casual players in this room of the casino.

”I can’t keep throwing good credits after bad, I’m out.” The Sullustan slides his seat out and excuses himself. “Quite a run you’re having. You should head up to the next level, if you think your luck will hold. Course everyone up there thinks they’re lucky, until they aren’t.”

Hawk is disappointed to learn that the hunt must wait for after the surgery.

Luks enjoys a drink, and even fancies he catches the tall blonde woman at the bar eyeing his medal.

Briar explores the resort, hoping to gain a better feel for the place. For when it all goes to frek, which it surely will...

Ral finally catches up to Den and Hawk in the resort.

"Guys. My luck is really on target. I got an invite to a higher table. I need you to form up on me. It couldn't hurt to have a little extra influence behind me.", he states as he reaches in and adjusts and dusts their dress uniforms.

Exploring the resort Briar noted the various rooms entrances and exits, the pathways between them, and which areas had larger gatherings of people. While also keeping on the lookout for anything out of place.

Den takes his time dumping his bags in his room. Enjoying the view from the window for a moment he turns back to unpack his pistol and knife. He may be on holiday (regardless of what the higher ups said), but he still didn't want to be completely unarmed in this place. Tucking the weapons into his jacket he makes his way down to join the others at the gambling table.

Sitting down alongside the others he places his credits on the table to be dealed in. Looking up at Ral he lets out a slight snort. "What, can't you look after yourself? It's just dejarik players". As he says this Den glances back down to see that his credits have been taken thanks to his losing hand. "Oh" he says, rather despondently. "It's sabacc, not dejarik. Well anyway, do you really need us?"

After the nurse leaves, Evon turns to the Sergeant, hitting a more personal tone: ,,I'm sorry Hale, it seems we have to take a raincheck on the hunting. Sorry for taking your evening, I'm sure the boys are already working hard down there. Join them if you wish, I think I rest before the operation." His eyes suddenly gleams with mischief as he comes up with the idea to compensate the soldier. ,,You know, I have a lot of things that aid me in an interrogation. Concoctions and medical cocktails that enhance my perception and awareness against lies and deception. I can imagine it can also come in handy at the sabacc tables..." He winks at Hale as he shows him some vials and syringes.

"Ah, that's fine Doc. I'm not much of one for carousing anyway. Mother's influence I suppose." He grins a bit sheepishly, "Oh what the kriff. Shoot me up and I'll go blow all my credits. Let's see if I know when to stop. Two vices in one evening... I wonder if any others will present themselves?" He laughs, "If all goes well, we might have a brawl. I wouldn't start one, but I'd be happy to finish it. If I don't get stuck scrubbing floors to pay off my debts, I'll be glad to go on a hunt with you sometime. Somebody's got to keep the doc from getting eaten."

,,Here you go!" Evon carefully removes the syringe and quickly tends the puncture. ,,You should feel the effects gradually. It regulates blood pressure, rewires some emergency reflexes and blocks some nervepaths, so your face won't rat your cards out! Also - he winks - it helps you repress that hungry rancor look that males usually get after some month on mission! - He adds laughing.

,,Good luck Hale! Have fun!"

Dramatically flexing his arm where Evon stabbed him, Hale stands up and winks at the doc, "Thanks, I'll let you know how it works. If I get kicked out for using steroids, I'm blaming you!"

He makes his way down to the gambling table and comes up behind Luks, slapping the Duros on the shoulder, "How's your luck? I'm thinking of joining in..."

First hand goes okay, until his card suddenly flips, changing a winning hand into a losing hand. The doc was right though, that shot really did help. In fact, the initial headache was receding.

Next hand, he grins in satisfaction as he wins back what he lost on the previous hand, but his heart skipped a beat or three when one of his cards flipped unexpectedly.

His frustration grows a bit in the next hand as he gets just a flat out lousy hand. And then it flips and gets worse. That stuff from the doc was still working though, he was doing a pretty good job keeping a straight face. He plunks down the requisite amount of credits to play the next hand. Surely this time they'll flip in his favor.