Log:Black Squadron: Storming the Castle

Black Squadron: Storming the Castle

OOC Date: September 02, 2021
Location: Kuat
Participants: Ulani Kalgaav (GM), Poe Dameron, Bors Thul, Ektor, Shemar, Jessika Pava, Black Squadron

NRI has been aware of the weapons research facility on Kuat since the civil war. Made up on a collection of industrial buildings and residential estates, it houses some of the greatest engineering minds since the early days of the Empire. Now it is a First Order hive mind where machines of war are made reality by the contractors and builders who live permanently on the premises.

Black Squadron knew she would be taken here. On top of the intel Bors had managed to get through New Alderaan security and his brief correspondence with the man responsible, Havelock Kalgaav, Poe had discovered a detailed map of the entire compound. It was one of the many things Ulani had downloaded into Comm-It soon after being recruited. Though there are several areas of the map incomplete, there is one section that is intimately detailed and will prove invaluable: the Kalgaav estate. Not only does it show floor plans, but also security codes for many of the doors.

It is just before dusk. The sky is just starting to turn from blue to orange and the shadows cast grow longer. Having successfully slipped the patrolling guards along the perimeter fence, Black Squadron are gathered at a back entrance of the estate. It is a large building that consists of three stories: the first two are dedicated to research and development while the third is residential.

"I wish this were as easy as bringing in a Y-Wing and blowing it up," Poe laments as he studies the back entrance with a dark gaze. Adjusting his coat a moment, he looks back over the team and shrugs. "We can go in quiet, I guess, but that really isn't our style. I guess let's go off the cuff here.. we have a map of the place, at least." Poe pulls out a DL-44 handcannon and primes it by switching the selector to FIRE. "Alright.. let's do this.." And.. toward the entrance he goes..BB-8 following behind him.

Of all things to be worn alongside the old carbine on Bors's person is the eloquently designed dueling blade. Custom made in old Alderaanian court styles with emphasis of the Thul emphasis of sphere trios and the center piece of the house sigil in gold filigree, and ruby forming the ring and the central 'shield' ornamentation. Normally not brought on operations - but this could potentially be a special occasion.

"Nay, no detonation till after, Ser Tion - I'll be having a most special request of thee later." grim faced, anger lined, the nods to Poe's choice of weapon while still picking and choosing for his own, mentally, "M'lord Pretty-Boy, those unmarked portions on the estate," moving to walk at the man's side, "Thinketh may yet be the obvious choice? Or the obvious place to avoid as of yet?" still having not selected his choice of mayhem creator.

Ektor has favored a void rated armored flightsuit for the operation, rather than the open faced trooper kit of his squadmates. The faceplate of the helmet- when he bothers to wear it- is painted with a crude skull pattern. He certainly looks more like a civilian spacer than a black ops agent. As easy as bringing in a Y-wing? "No lie, yeah? But what if- hear me out- what if... we brought *two* Y-wings?" the Tionese bomber cracks, as he draws his own favored sidearm, and cracks his neck with a tilt. A nod to Bors. "Hey, just say the word, Buh-Bors. I got you back, yeah?" He twirls the Civil War era pistol, and- though he fumbles it a bit- doesn't drop it, a d ends up holding the correct end. "See that? Good omen, right there. Let's do this."

Shemar is all ready to do the quiet entrance thing - in so far as his skills are up to it. /Somebody/ else would have to see to by passing doors they don't have the codes to. Moving quietly and hiding though? He could do that, but he's not the one calling the shots. The pilot is wearing his Trooper armor and has brought his BIG gun, the A280, which is obviously far less stealthy.

Hanging near the back of their little rescue group, Shemar listens up. For his own part he'll stick to what cover he may, watching out for surveillance cameras. Nope, not seeing any yet. Odd, maybe.

Inside the estate is a wide expanse of warehouse floor. Rows of crates stacked high and kept in organized lines. Machines run from floor to ceiling: cranes, conveyor belts, and guards. Several guards. They are the average hired guards in average armour doing their average patrols. Yet once in a while, helmeted heads turn curiously towards the Stormtrooper presence who are also patrolling. It would seem the Stormies are a recent and unnerving addition.

The facility, clearly, was expecting company. Doubtful they were expecting Black Squadron, though. If they were, they would have been more alert to the back door opening and the figures slipping inside. But as luck would have it, none of the guards are nearby to catch any odd noises that need to be investigated.

The map in their possession show at least three ways up to the third floor which is your goal. Two open-air, metal staircases: one on either side of the large room. And a turbolift in the back. Both provide their own risks and rewards.

They make it inside and aren't shot to death. Ektor was right, this is going well. Poe puts his back to a wall and pies the corner a bit, to see what they're working with. When he has a good lay of the land, he turns back and waves at BB-8. "Psst... Hey.. Bee-Bee-Eight.." The droid didn't hear him. Poe makes a face. "PSSSSSSSST.. BEE-BEE-EIGHT.." A whisper with intensity. The droid looks his way, and Poe motions about eleven times for him to come closer.

"We need you at the console, buddy. Cause a distraction then code lock it. Make it loud or something.. we can't sneak for drek and we need to slip by."

BB-8 makes a raspberry noise then warbles. "What do you mean.. 'which console'? /That/ one!" BB-8 seems reluctant but he rolls over and plugs in. Thank the maker they didn't bring Bones.

He has never been known to be able to be 'silent' - something he'll need to work on. He does try to keep -quiet-, but his boot, or an elbow, or an entire Bors bumps or scrapes against something and he can't quite duck into the shadows. Even the ones big enough to hide all of him. Even when he's looking dour the man is an Adonis.

So pretty. Who could hide that?

But hunkering down, resting on the balls of his feet the Lord of Thul draws his blade for the moment, resting it over his knees, "Troopers aren't leaving the lift area... other than to peep corners. Regular guards are bored, strolling, keeping near the machinery. The crate stacks are our avenue. But much of the machine works - well if Ser Tion were to be given his head, he might make a considerable racket to distract from the direction we are headed..."

Ektor swagger-limps right through the door once it slides open, only belatedly noticing his fellows being much more discreet. He seeks to duck behind a crate for cover, but knocks over a chair that had been placed there, with a clatter. He promptly hastens a short distance further away, so none of Black Squadron see him when they look toward the clatter (they all still see you, Ektor).

The door is opened and in they go. Shemar moves fairly quietly for a man carrying a big arse A280. He moves quickly and lightly to cover, probably using one of those crates and manages not to knock over any vases or step on any cats - yet. He turns his head at Poe trying to get BB-8 to do things and that distracts him a little, trying not to grin. The Ensign manages to get his attention on watching the guards to watch his team's back while the others sort out a distraction or best path to get up to the next floors.

Maybe they should have checked out things on the outside better. But too late now.

Attempting to maneuver in confined spaces in any kind of clandestine way is a challenge. Within the walls of the manor, things are a little easier because of the numerous crates and hiding spots afforded them by machinery, but roving patrols make that even harder. Sidearm drawn and kept at the low ready, Jessika observes the other members of Black Squadron chewing on the puzzle that is this room. Poe sends BB-8 to create a distraction and Jessika decides to scope out the turbolift. Of the three methods of reaching their destination, the turbolift is the best. The stairs are open and have little to no cover, and transitioning them could easily trap them between two floors. With the turbolift, there's a degree of concealment and they can lock it when they get to the third floor, ensuring that's one less route they have to deal with when the time comes to leave. She picks her way from spot to spot, staying low and waiting for the most opportune moments when a gaze has already swept over where she wants to be or where she'll be moving.

Things are running smoothly on the factory level of the Kalgaav premises. As they have been for nearly a week since the Stormtroopers showed up. One lifts his helmet up enough to yawn while another takes his completely off to put a cig into his mouth.

"You shouldn't smoke in here," says his partner, helmet jerking towards a conveyor belt that is slowly, steadily moving a shiny material from the loading dock and further into the facility. "My brother told me that drek is explosive." Said with all the confidence of a Corellian bumpkin.

"What the frak? Seriously? Then why in the---"

The conversation is interrupted as said conveyor suddenly grinds to a loud, metal-gnashing halt. Several guards turn towards the ruckus in time to see the belt start rolling backwards at double-speed, sending the materials flying in all directions. Nothing explodes but several aguards (8) panic and rush over to try to stop the machine. Such a pity they find the console as malfucntioned and completely locked them out. It's pandemonium on the factory floor.

"Good work, buddy. -- Hey.." Poe addresses the others. "We got the distraction. Book it after Jess, let's go." Poe motions the others on before taking to a run, himself. He closes the distance quickly and puts his back to something to try to hide himself behind cover until everyone is settled on the lift. BB-8 casually rolls in behind him.

Well, that -would- be the signal to go. Bors makes one fool mistake on this venture; he starts his run on his right leg.

The right leg.

The one that has been repeatedly shot, had plastoid armor melt into the muscles, been broken at least once at the femur, bitten by a manka cat, twice, in the same damned day.

So he initially appears to be tumbling forward when he shifts to catch himself on a crate, ~lightly~ whacking his face before using the shift in momentum to hobble run after Poe in a fashion that is most dashing and, dare say, canny? No it's not very pretty. It's like watching a newborn tauntaun gallop-stumble around. Just without the smell. Or the horns. Also it's Bors and not a Tauntaun.

Ektor gives a dumb chuckle as the machine malfunctions, spitting possibly explosive packages back the way they came. <<"No lie, I could watch shellheads chase around boxes and bump into each other all day. That's like.. art or some drek. Or at least funny as hell ">> That insight offered, the reformed (?) pirate sees the same chance and sprints unevenly after Jessika, narrowly avoiding Bors as the non-taun stumbles in front of him.

Well, there's a distraction for ye! Everyone starts scrambling for the conveyor belt and there goes Poe, dashing off between crates and using what cover he may. "This is crazy." Shemar whispers to himself, then he's off trying to run through the warehouse, use what cover he may, and trying not to bang a big rifle against anything. Good thing there is a lot of noise in here because any moment now he's expecting to be seen and shot at!

Breathing hard, a few moments later he arrives and slips into the lift, "Going up?"

It's all about timing. With the distraction set by BB-8 and Poe and the rest of Black Squadron starting to follow her to the turbolift, Jessika slips farther past the white-armored stormtroopers to the control panel for the lift itself. A simple brush of her hand against the panel ushers the door open and provides a waiting escape from the current room within the confines of the tube ready to carry them up. She takes the smallest of glances past the edge of the doors and into the lift itself, where she can spot a camera trained at the interior. Moving back and stowing her sidearm, she very quickly motions at the lift with a knife-hand and then motions her fingers to her eyes to indicate that there's a camera inside. Shemar breezes right by her into the lift right after.

Mayhem. The conveyor belt continues to backtrack at twice the speed it is meant to go and no matter their efforts, the hapless guards can't get it to stop. An argument breaks out amongst them about how to resolve the issue.

"Just break the damn thing!" "You want to explain that to the Doctor? No way." "Well, I ain't cleaning this up." "Where's the damn techs?!" "My shift's almost over." "I'm only two days from retirement!" "Focus! We have to solve this before---"

Friction is causing ribbons of smoke to rise along the length of the conveyor belt. A noxious smell of burning rubber fills the high-ceiling room. Then a SNAP! CLUNK! PANG! The belt frays, shredding into smaller pieces of rubber-shrapnel that go flying at full momentum at the guards gathered at the console! All eight guards get pelted and knocked down, rendered prone and disoriented!

The lift doors are opened and the Black Squad pile in quick-as-you-please. With a slam of the button, the doors start to close, drawing the attention of the Stormtroopers who were far, far too distracted by what was going on to notice. They turn around just in time to see the doors closing completely.

"Intruders! Stop right---" Ding. Going up.

As the doors shut, Poe shrugs. "Sorry, boys.. wrong floor.." Ding. Going up. Poe glances aside to BB-8 and gestures, "See if you can't run that jam signal and keep them from communicating.. at least. And when we get up here.. shut off those surveillance cameras.." Like the one Jess pointed out when HE filed into the lift. "Maybe they didn't see us?" Poe says convincingly enough that maybe he believes it. A glance around to see if he convinced the others; probably not though.

With a mighty, throaty, noise that might have been the gronking whine of the noble Hoth reptomammal, but held in check lest he draw attention, Bors makes his way into the lift in a fashion most befitting his urgency. Rebounding off one of the sides of the hatch and half-spinning in to thunk against the far wall,

"Meant to do that."

Liar, Bors. For shame.

"Really. Hey it smells like plastoid, nightmares, and a man who has his own daughter kidnapped to make up for his personal masculine shortcomings." all pretense of his high-born speech gone. His leg hurts.

His face hurts.

His pride is laying on the ground gripping its tenders and whimpering.

Oh drek, did he stab himself in the leg? Tug. No just through his trousers. Right leg. Cursed. But not completely today.

Ektor cackles at the unfolding disaster as stormtroopers are pelted with burned rubber and fall over like so many ten-pins. He adds a jaunty wave to Poe's 'wrong floor' quip as the doors slide shut. "Haha! Ah, drek- already the best mission all month. Rekking *rich*, yeah? Heh. But nah, for true? The saw the hell out of us. Especially Jess." Jess, the only capably stealthy one among them.

Shemar looks at the security camera pointed right at them, "Why does this feel like a sitcom? Why is there no muzak?" He lifts his big ass rifle and uses it to whack the security camera, "Oops. I'm so clumbsy." Then he shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he needs to pee. Floor 2...

It's all Poe's fault. Bors gets a funny look for dropping his posh accent. Oh wait, Shemar is pressed up against the Major. Jess gets a sheepish smile.

"They saw us." There's not a breath's hesitation between Poe suggesting maybe they weren't seen and Jessika clarifying, in no uncertain terms, that they'd been seen. "There's a camera in the lift, too." She motions with her hand upwards to indicate where she'd spotted it in the turbolift proper. "Looks like we're going loud." She's already drawing her sidearm again and getting it ready. Oh, and wiggling towards the back of the group. She's not wearing armor. Everyone else can be the ones getting shot at. She checks the usual things: safety off, power pack good. Rechecks where the one is in her pocket. Now all that's left to do is wait. Thankfully there's no music playing in this lift while they rise towards being shot at.

Ding. The turbolift doors slide open.

The third floor is starkly different from the facility below. The first room is a greeting hall of lush couches, fine paintings, and freshly vacuumed carpets. A small room off to the side houses an array of various liquors and wines from all over the galaxy and on the opposite wall, several screens currently dark. This is a place where bigwigs meet to speak of bigwig things, no doubt.

Directly across from the turbolift is a door that, according to the map, leads into the living space of the Kalgaav's. But where to go?

Inside the turbolift, the speak above crackles on. "They're coming." A familiar voice: soft and quiet but keeping steady. "I'll try to hold off the ones remaining from below."

The comm crackles off just as the door across opens up and five (5) Stormtroopers and three (3) Estate Guards raise their weapons.

Poe's head cants up at hearing the familiar voice. Not sure she can hear them, Poe comments about their confirmation of being seen: "Well, it was worth a shot..--DOWN!" The doors opened and they were faced with stormtroopers and estate guards. Poe takes a knee and fires two, very loud, blaster discharges taking a stormtrooper down with a loud clatter.

Poe reaches down to unhook a personal shield generator, tossing it to Jess AFTER calling out her callsign. "Testor, catch!"

He killed him MAL-2216, he killed him with a sword.

How weird is that?

The blade swept first at the shoulder joint, Bors's lunge carried him in the wake of Poe's pistol shots, sweeping past the target of Dameron's ire to make his first cut. The attack leaving the inner thigh unguarded when the razor-thin blade severs tendons at the inner thigh that forces the stormtrooper down.

"Sorry." the Lord offers as his steps carry him past - far enough for his blade to sink down between joints of the cowling armor to pierce the heart and send the trooper down before the blade is lifted in salute to the next.

Ektor passes the lift ride in silence. At least for a few seconds. He starts humming. Then half singing (poorly) under his breath. Then it begins and Xer stands upright behind the kneeling Poe, extending his hand and the old pistol it hold out the lift door as it opens. He opens fire with great enthusiasm (the first shot hits the lift door- he fired a split second too soon), but the second blasts a stormtrooper dead, and the third spins another around with a dire injury. 

The moment the elevator slows, Shemar stacks up to one side of the doors for what little cover it'll give him and has his huge rifle pointed upwards, ready to drop it and fire. Poe orders them to drop down and he drops his rifle muzzle down first, then slides down in a squat. The huge A280 fires one magnificent glowing bolt that leaps down the passage and nails one of the guards, throwing the poor fellow against the wall even as he's blown apart. "Drek!" Maybe he was aiming for a Stormie and hit the guard by mistake.

His knee sticking out, Shemar starts to lean back behind the lift's door when his leg is hit! The bolt catches him soundly in the gap just under his armor's thigh plate. It causes the pilot to hit the sidewall of the lift, "KRIFF!"

The door to the turbolift opens and, to absolutely no one's surprise, there are stormtroopers and estate guards waiting for them. Jessika doesn't wait. Raising her blaster pistol, she squeezes off a round into the chaos of everyone else opening fire and an already-injured guard drops dead onto the floor. It's difficult to equate the specific sensation surging through her as the fire is returned, but there's nothing for it but shoot until no one is shooting back. The expensive decor of the floor they're exiting onto doesn't look like a place on expects to have a firefight, but the galaxy is a strange place and she's seen far weirder things happen in much nicer places. Being in a firefight with an unexplainable creature in the picturesque city of Theed for one.

The guards give the obligatory "There they are!" before a rain of blaster bolts is offered in return. Amidst the laser show, a blade slices through the chaos; catching the red beams of light from several different directions.

The remaining guards hold in front of the door, returning a volley towards the intruders at the turbolift. But their numbers are meek at beast. "Where the hell is the back up?! They should've been here by now!" "Comms are jammed!" "They'll be here! Pin them down!"

Along the wall, one of the blank videos flickers on and Ulani appears on the screen against a backdrop of dark wooden panels. "I managed to stop a few, but the rest are heading up behind you. There are more inside. Roughly--" The screen cuts to black.

Poe doesn't have time to see where he tossed the shield generator, he just knows it was tossed in the general vicinity of Jess. Poe's attention shifts to Shemar, who just took a shot, then Poe looks back and avoids being shot himself by.. /inches/. "WOAH!" He cried out, blasting two loud shots toward the culprit and catching the trooper once in the side. It's an injury, not death.

BB-8 Warbles about his jamming signal being reverted, warning that they have company coming, and they can communicate.

"Pretty Boy, the estate maps. She's in the study." Bors's look to the screen was brief - but enough to work from memory of previous views from prior contacts. "Post haste." the Stormtrooper battered by the hand-cannon in Poe's possession is approached. Durasteel scores a shoulder pauldron, then skids across the chest piece.

There is a -look- given to the stormtrooper for the sheer audacity of being able to move despite injury to keep the blade from finding purchase. An ABSOLUTE look before the blade tip is flicked across the throat and the pommel smashed across the faceplate of the helmet. All pretense of displeasure in violence absent today.

"That's where we shall find her."

"No lie, this place is *nice*, yeah? Yanno-" Blam, Blam, "Other than all the dead guys," Ektor comments, off handedly. Talk of backup from their does, prompts a shout, "Ya want backup? Then BACK YOUR ASSES UP, yeah?" A crooked grin and the barrage of blaster bolts is kept up, dropping one guard, and somehow hitting the ceiling with his final shot. He cocks his head to an angle and chuckles. "Hey, look: Techie's on the wall." A shrug. "What you say, Pretty Boy? Want me to cook up a little surprise for the boys on the stairs, or we gotta all move now?"

There's plenty of shooting. Bolts arc back and forth up and down the length of the corridor. Guards, Stormtroopers, /and/ paintings get shot up. The carpet is splattered copiously with gallons of blood and pieces of blasted armor. It smells like cooked meat, human excretement as the bodies void themselves, and burnt plastic. Perfect for the decor.

Shemar has managed to get another shot off around the door of the lift, nailing the last estate guard standing. He uses the A280 rifle to force himself back to his feet, favoring his injured leg with a grimace.

Out of the lift. Shemar starts moving, "Which way is the study?"

"We can't barricade and hope to last. We need to start thinking about exfil, and fast." Poe doesn't need Jessika to tell him this, but Jessika says it all the same after collecting the shield generator he'd tossed towards her in the lift and had been dropped.. They have one injured, their objective has yet to be accomplished, and with the communications jam no longer lasting, there's no telling how long it'll be before they're swarmed. Black Squadron does not need to be in this situation when the real reinforcements arrive. "I think we blast out a window, hotwire something, and get out of here fast." She checks the power pack on her sidearm again before casting a look at Shemar. "You good?" It's a glance she passes around to the others, just in case they missed someone taking a shot.

With a goal in mind, Black Squadron push forward as quickly as their slowest member. Leave no one behind. The map lays out the plans rather well. Afterall, the one who drew them up roamed these halls from birth. They make quick work of navigating the foreign estate, utilizing the precious seconds saved with the comms jammed to gain ground.

Rounding the corner, the corridor opens up into another receiving room. This one is larger than the first with even nicer couches, more expensive paintings, hanging plants, and a few nude yet classy statues.

And a lot more guards. They've mustered to this location in wait, guarding a singular door behind them. A good indication this is exactly where the Black Squadron need to be. The eight (6) Stormtroopers and six (4) Estate guards are all aimed at the only entrance and exit to the space.

"We don't have time. Let's move to the next area. I'll get on the horn with Javos to get our ride ready and warmed up. We can't leave our objective behind. Tion, we might need some boom to get out of here unconventionally though, so if you find something we can use to blow a hole in the wall.. grab it. Let's go.."

Poe moves then, pointing to BB-8. "Hey buddy, I need you to start closing doors behind us and encrypting them. Slow down our tail."

If only fate had worked that way. BB-8 not only failed at this task, he failed at slowing their tail down too! So Black Squad is chasing toward the objective while being chased by a blabbering BB-8, who is being chased by a tail of reinforcements; and to make matters better.. they have contacts up front. Poe misses his shots sliding for cover, doing his best to make something from nothing, but Jess was the numbers gal, and she said it was a bad idea, and Jess is never wrong. This was a bad idea.

The zipping sound of canvas parting in the wake of the second swing of Bors's sword missing the stormtrooper, reeling with the sting of durasteel making its way narrowly through plastoid armor, is the sound of several hundred thousand credits worth of painting being destroyed before the shining metal comes back around to stain more white crimson with more spilled blood.

Weaving, with a mild miss-step causing his foot to slide out of cadence with the dueling steps he is taking - aimed for the doors beyond. "Techie!" maybe she'll hear him? Code names, in her own house. Haw.

We have fun.

The man may be no daring pirate, but he does have the steps to wend his way among the melee.

"No lie, this one time we grabbed a Santhe royal yacht, yeah? This is like.. almost Santhe fancy," Ektor rambles. Poe's instructions on boom earn a snicker. "If I find something, he says. Come on, it's me you're talking to, I got just the thing.." During their trek, he had shifted what appeared to be the warhead of a disassembled micro-concussion missile into his hands, fiddling with it until an amber light started blinking, then shifting it to his back, with a shoulder strap crossing his torso. As is his habit with a hand blaster, the pilot's firing form is sloppy, and his results erratic, but effective. One shot blows the head off a statue, the next blows the head off a stormtrooper, and the last doubles a trooper over with a blast to the armored abdomen.

Jess gets a nod from Shemar, "I can keep up." Unless he gets shot again. He's limping and hurting but he's still on his feet for now. They move through the corridor and through other passages, their wounded pilot indeed slowing them down a bit. Grim faced, Shemar looks determined though.

Soon as they open into the next chamber full of guards and Stormtroopers, Shemar is moving for cover. He fires off a quick blast as he does so, ducking down behind a couch. ugh, very dubious cover - more like concealment, at best.

His shot hits! A lovely nude sculpture of a woman is blown apart, throwing chunks of shrapnel. Man, who knew Shemar was an art critic?!

Their next encounter is just a preview of what's to come. Jessika has the foresight to slip on the shield generator passed to her by Poe, which means that when the next engagement starts, the blaster bolt that hits her instead pings the shield and forces a blue ripple around her. Is it the same enemy she puts down onto the floor, face first? Difficult to say. Whatever the case, those attacking them find themselves losing the battle in a hail of blaster fire as Poe leads the way and they all follow. "What's a Santhe?" Jessika asks Ektor, having never heard of the term. If she thought about it more, she'd probably not trust Ektor to have any real gauge of what is or isn't fancy or expensive. For all she knows, Santhe royalty could very well be the worst kind.

Today's forecast calls for violence with a chance of unlucky happenstance. The two sides collide almost immediately. Black Squadron is a split second faster on the triggers, but the collective aim only manages to take one of the Stormtroopers down. The defending forces are equally unlucky; only managing to make a single shot that is immediately soaked up by an energy shield.

Instead of ducking for cover, the guards hold their positions as if that door was to be protected at all costs. Wonder what -- or who -- is beyond it. No answer is returned from the other side.

In the labyrinth of corridors behind the invading team, the reinforcements from the factory level are making their way towards their location. They'll likely be there in a few more seconds unless something deters them. There are four (4) Estate Guards and four (4) Stormtroopers left.

"Bee-Bee-Eight.. if you're going to work your magic, now's the time, buddy--" Poe is knocked to his back by a mantling stormtrooper that lands over him. BB-8 rolls away and promptly hooks into another terminal and begins twisting it with his hacking-tool. Poe throws his pistol at the trooper's head, knocking them to the ground in a clatter. He pulls his E-11 to bear, making use of the sling, but the shots are erratic and taken whilst he scrambles back from this guy to put distance between them.

BB-8 manages to close the door, lock it, and turn on the fire suppression system causing water to cascade in a downpour from above. "I didn't say-- WHAT are you doing over there, buddy?!"

Things are going great. Special forces at its finest.

Special Forces.

Black Squad puts the Special in Special Forces - that's for absolutely space damned sure. Taking opportunity in Poe's cast pistol when the trooper is struck and knocked for a loop. Bors makes a cut etched at one elbow and then a return strike at the hip joint between the plates. A stuttering kick-step and a pirouette around the forces arrayed to stop them with sword singing (and whistling past one of the troopers ineffectually).

"Best make your retreat now, we're not in the mood for mercy this day."

"Huh?" Ektor voices eloquently aside to Jessika. "What's a Santhe? They're the Hutt-suckers what own Sienar Corp. And Lianna. And most of the Tion Cluster. They're rich as rekk, is what I'm saying, yeah?" While keeping up the conversation, he is blasting away merrily at the white armored troopers, before ducking back behind a statue for a bit of cover. "No lie, instead of a deck? Their ship had rekking velvet on the ground, yeah? Gold plated gold, plated with some drek more expensive than gold, yeah? What the drek- WHY'S IT RAINING? Hey, Poe!" Blam. "Poe! POE. It's raining, now!" Another trooper is gunned down while the finest pilots in the galaxy try not to fall on their asses on wet marble. It's in the course of sharing his keen tactical insight with his commanding officer that Ektor gets shot in the arm. "OW. I was using that!" Blam blam.

Shemar pops up from behind the couch and just as he lays the big ass rifle on the back of it to take a shot, the fire suppression system engages and starts soaking him! Surprised, he misses his shot and decides to crawl around the couch and fire from a prone position around the end of it. His left leg is kriffing hurting and if they need to bang out fast, he's not going to be fast.

"Great job, BB-8! Maybe they'll drown to death!" This isn't going as well as it should. Poor Ulani. At this rate, Black Squardon is going to need a rescue. This isn't what Shemar imagined Special Forces would be like. Tanks and tunnels was the worst!

Fire. Receive fire. Return fire. A cacophony of blaster whines fills the expensive halls of this compound and turns pristine marble, too-expensive wall paint, and ceramic busts into a battlefield of carbon scorches and flickering little flames. Chunks and tinier pebbles from the statues crunch under foot. White dust smears where pieces have been turned into little more than atoms and ash. "OH. THAT Santhe." To be honest, a firefight is not the best of places to stroll down one's extensive halls of information. And, sometimes, smart people can be dumb. She chalks it up to Ektor's pronounciation. Yeah, that's the thing at fault here. As the sprinkler systems erupt in sprays of water to deal with dozens of small little fires, the shield around Jessika oscillates in quick little flickers.

The remaining guards hold their fire for a brief moment as one of the Stormtroopers puts a hand to his helmet. The door behind them opens up and two more Stormtroopers join them to stand at either side of the door. Then a man walks out with rust-brown hair and wire-frame classes. He wear an expression of stonecold disinterest. As if all the carnage and violence were just a pest buzzing around his head.

Shielded by the bodies in front of him and to the sides, the man known as Havelock Kalgaav look across the way towards the members of Black Squadron with a rise of his brow. His gaze lingers on each member before resting on Poe. "Ah. There's a face that is easy to pick from a crowd. General Dameron."

He removes his glasses and wipes at the lenses with the edge of his jacket as the reinforcements -- soaked to the fiberweave suits underneath -- bring up the rear. "You are surrounded. You are out-numbered. I suggest you lay down your arms and surrender yourself to the First Order. We will be lenient." Blue eyes slide to Bors. "For most of you."

Poe is heroically standing beneath the downpour amidst the incoming fire when Ektor calls his name over and over until finally, Poe answers. "What?" Poe's look is both confused and dumbstruck as Ektor points out the obvious and a shot intended for Poe misses, sparking off something beside him.

Before Poe can answer, the fire stops and they're left looking at the entourage with this old guy with glasses.

"We came here to fight, pal. Hope you got a blaster beneath that dress." Poe says, before turning. "Bee-Bee-Eight, close the hatch behind him!" There's some garbled warbles drowned out by the spraying water. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN.." BLAMBLAM, "There's bad TOADS?"

Bad toads? What in the varied hells of all the planets of all the worlds of all space? Bad toads??? Bors has no time for this - he has a target being zeroed in on that had only shared words via holonet not too long ago.

Right before a Mandalorian lady beat the tar out of him.

He hired Mandalorians. Rude.

But the positioning of the guards is not one to interdict for the Lord Thul when he ducks and drives forward, twisting around the defenses to close distance on Lord Kalgaav. "I told you I'd come for you." the tip of the steel meeting bicep, with the rasp of metal against flesh and cloth that rings at the very end of the thrust.

"I told you you'd upset me if you did this." the dueling sword is caught between them, cleaving through tunic and skin to the bone as they lock up, unable to move to make the wound deeper. Bors's face impractically and tactically foolhardily close to Havelock's.

"I recall I told you I'd rekking kill you, you exhaust kriffing, hutt-wart, son of a gamorean's nether-fungus."

Surrounded and outnumbered? "Anyone ever told you the ring around the planet makes Kuat look like a giant grey turd getting flushed? No? Well, now ya have." Ektor's contribution to the renewed firefight is predictably low brow. Aside, he resumes to Jessika, "Yeah, *those* Santhes." Blam. "Say, Jess- you think maybe you and me oughta cause some more trouble after this? I ain't used to the Hutt-suckers recognizing everybody else, first." Blam blam.

There's a lot of blame going out tonight. First, Ektor's pronounciation. Now the shield flickering as water hits it. Jessika misses two of her shots just close enough that it pisses her off. At least the third hits and manages to punch a hole through the plasteel of one trooper's armor. "Ektor, we're not supposed to be recognized! That's half the business of being in special operations! Even if they already know what we look like!" She'd been caught once. Ektor'd been caught once. ..Poe'd been caught once. Jessika starts going through her head trying to discern the number of people she knows that have been caught and still serve in this community and it's a startlingly high number. Even Ulani's name is on that list now. She's sure it'll happen to Bors and Nugget, soon. It's almost a requisite to be in the club at this point.

Black Squad answer loud. It would seem no odds are too great to push forward with a 'bad idea'. It's what turns bad ideas into 'meant to do it' situations!

Havelock's eyes widen in surprise, definitely not expecting the Aleraanian to get to him so quickly. Or at all. The blade cuts into him, causing the enginee to stagger back against the wall and finding himself face-to-face with a very, very angry Bors. Yet that stonecold expression returns though twinged in pain. "And I said bring your fury, Mr. Thul. You will not escape this place."

To the side, a hidden panel opens up revealing an escape route. And among the eruption of action in this room, there is a faint buzzing sound barely heard. A whizzing. A zigging and zagging. Just as the study doors are about to close, a red-haird figure runs out with a ball droid following behind. T3 finds the helmet'd forehead of an Estate Guard and knocks him off his feet with a PLANG!

"Hurry! This way!" She shouts but then pauses when the scope of the situation washes over her.

"OH.. the CODES are bad. Don't worry about it.. just find us a way out of here.." Poe calls back to BB-8 while blasting down another stormtrooper. The situation here isn't dire, but it's not good either. They do need to exfil soon. Thinking this, Poe misses a second shot, but he spots Techie. "Eyyyy, there she is. Tion, Testor.. Nugget.. let's go. I'll cover you guys. Move!" Poe couldn't see Bors through the maze of bodies, but he was going to wait for the errant Lord. BB-8 is the first to reach Ulani, warbling something of a greeting as he passed.

"You're not worth fury. You're a relic and my hate dies with you." Bors's retort is calmly delivered. The sword turned suddenly with a quarter step back to bring his fighting blade up and across his torso to spill blood. "You should have listened. Cad." another swift turn of his wrist and Bors spins away to start for the door opened by Ulani. Leaving Havelock without further word; and throat opened before his weapon is away from flesh.

Jogging away, expecting just... so much blaster fire to hailstorm around him. Hopefully he'll get out, it would be most ironic that Jess had been pondering captures for the club - if he joined up so soon as they'd rescued Techie... Well he'd expect a good slap in the face if he survived.

Ektor ducks back behind the (rapidly shrinking) statue as a storm of blaster fire answers his insolence. The idiot is cackling merrily as bolts sizzle past or blast into the stone. The conversation continues. "You kidding me, Jess? We ain't supposed to be recognized? Nah, that's-" Blam. "Then how come we paint all our fighters up like Black Squad? And they.. Huh.." Deep in thought, blam blam blam. "Say, I think a LOT of us have been captured before, Jess." Blam. "I think.. we might not be very good at this special forces thing." While coming to this realization, the pirate has gunned down a pair of elite stormtroopers. "Drek, time to go!" No more time for reflection, he nods to Jess at Poe's order and starts for the door.

"That's--," Jessika will never admit to anyone, ever, that Ektor has a good point regarding their fighters being painted up like Black Squadron, but she also knows the reason they do it. The man has a point. There's an answer, but he still has a point. Then he's talking about how lots of them have been captured before. Jessika doesn't really get a chance to respond, because Poe has the right of it: they need to get the hell out of there. Quickly, Jessika is up and moving, attention focused on their next objective and intent on wrapping this up so that none of them does what she's thinking about and gets caught. They're here to rescue someone, not get themselves into a spot they need rescuing from. ...Though they almost do that every time they go somewhere.

"My sons will--" Havelock is silenced, the final blow leaving him sliding down the wall into a slump on the floor.

It cannot be processed fast enough. There's too much going on. Blaster fire, statues exploding, droids rolling and flying around. Orders are being shouted. Behind the Squad, the remaining guards open fire in desperation: one already calling for more back-up. Everyone is shooting and running. And her father...

It doesn't register yet. It likely will later, but right now there's just shock and an intense pull to leave. /Right now./ Ulani forces herself to turn away from the sight and runs after BB-8 as the droid passes. T3 isn't far behind, whizzing on his blurry synthetic wings.

As she is running, a foreign pain rips through Ulani's back and she's pushed forward, stumbling in pain. Poor girl has never had a blaster hit her before and she's quickly figuring out that she doesn't like it. It's feels... terrible!