Log:Black Squadron: Volcanic Descent

Black Squad return to a looming presence

OOC Date: October 26, 2020
Location: Rishi
Participants: Jessika Pava, Bors Thul, Ektor, Elrych Cometburn, Poe Dameron, Black Squadron

Black Squadron appeared in real space at a staggered interval, their approach low on the planet, just below its equator and on the side where there were not as many continents. Poe takes the lead, shoving his throttle forward to ignite the sub-light engines of dark red on his T-85 X-Wing.

When his voice crackles to life over comms, it's conveyed in a way that sounds robotic yet still distinctly Poe; this is due to the heavy encryption of their comms and the interference of the atmosphere. Sensors pick up a waypoint.

<<"Black Squad, check in for the mission log and follow me down.">>

<"Black Two, standing by."> Just what Major Jessika Pava is standing by for is anyone's guess. Part of her wonders if they're going to get obliterated as soon as they head over the lip of the volcano and try to investigate what became of the ancient ship they'd tried to destroy. There's really only one way to find out. She takes up flank on Poe's right, and glances towards her instruments for any kind of sign that anything is going to go wrong. She still considers them lucky for having made it out of that deathtrap in the first place. "Well...," Jessika mutters to herself, while Ailee remains silent. "Here goes nothing, I guess." It doesn't ease the tension of her grip around the flightstick as she guides her craft through the atmopshere.

<<"Black Six, reporting in.">> Comes the voice and music of Elrych Cometburn from his E-Wing. He moves into formation, the sublight engines blasting to full throttle in order to keep up with Black Leader. The engines stream behind him, a low rumble rocking the cockpit.

<<Black Three is here and- ha ha. ha ha ha. Ha. I really need to use this vocodor drek to prank somebody, yeah. Wait. Everyone who outranks me, forget I said that, yeah. Ahem. Black Three, following you in, yeah." Despite his babbling, the pilot of the squadron's lone Y-wing guides his light bomber on a smooth approach, lazily keeping formation.

Almost like a zwoot straining to be allowed to charge ahead at the races, the Mark II thrummed around Bors and there was a slightly more manic turn to his grin as he rolls into a full aileron to slip into flight formation.

<<"Black Seven, standing by.">> fingers flipping to ready systems on his comms board, checking sensors and hovering over the 'jam' toggle for just a moment... instinct, honest. "Mother guide my hands to be the point of light to guide, Father use me as the blade as needed..." the words almost reflexive, spoken to himself. No droid in this model of craft.

It's probably why A-Wing pilots are so chatty. <<"Ready for recon-sweep if required.">> Also any reason to go fast.

The fighters stay in formation with ease, cutting through the atmosphere and finding the pressure of gravity beyond that. When the veil of fire breaks, they see dark clouds below. <<"Intel didn't say anything about storms,">> Poe comments, the heat in the air causing a great deal of chop and turbulence. It takes roughly ten minutes, but Poe leads them below sensor range and near parallel with the sea. Poe is so close to the green sea that water spouts airborne in his wake. He sets speed to break the super-sonic range then. <<"Copy on all callsigns. Be advised, this mission is recon. We need to verify that Mean Mother is down for the count. Spread out here, we're fifty miles up wind of the volcano island.">>

Elrych groans, "Oh man... More storms..." Eggsy gives a worries whistle as well. <<"Well sometimes these things pop up. Maybe I'll perfect that Maneuver yeah?" He laughs, turning down the music some so he can properly concentrate. HE centers his breath and calls upon the force to help with his calm and focus.

Ektor nods at Poe's instructions, not that anyone can see him. "Genius: focus on sensors, yeah? Holler if you pick up any power sources on approach. Yanno.. any NON VOLCANO power sources, I mean." The Y-wing flies with a smooth whisper over the sea toward their destination, at a distance just outside the blast radius of a proton mine's blast.

A 'huh-chunk' and whine as he pedals throttle and taps a console switch to set and maintain <<"Copy that, Lead.">> A-Wing twisting to roll up and over the Y-Wing as he inverts, looking up (down) to the cockpit of the other and giving a little wave before the arch lands the recon-fighter onto the port side of Ektor. Right side up again and then boosting up alongside Poe's right side.

<<"Moving up front, boss.">> the thrusters of the little ship blaze brighter and he begins to peel away from the lot <<"If I make friends I'll angle relative port and try to lead them off before jamming and moving to regroup.">> putting lengths between himself and the squadron behind.

As everyone takes their spot on approach, they make out the shape of the volcano in the distance and close /fast/. Sensors begin to pick up blips, but from read outs they're coming from below.. not above. There was some sort of power source below the water, twelve (12) of them to be exact. As Black squad passes over them, fighters emerge from the depths suddenly, as if triggered by proximity or something.

<<"We got company! Break off into pairs! Testor with Tion... Elrock you're with buhBors. Cover each other! These things can really move!">> The type of craft following them did not come back on the register. It was either too new, or.. too old. Green lances of laser light trail after the squadron.

<"Where the drek did they come from?"> It's fast, that quip. What's also fast is her reaction. Yanking her throttle back to a more manageable position for speed, she quickly tilts her snubfighter up onto its right wing and yanks back, so it sweeps wide and scatters around towards the craft that are on their tails. The X-Wing might not be the fastest craft, or the most nimble, but it gets the job done, and Jessika maneuvers easily into a positon where she can take a run at one of the twelve. <"Three, Two. Going for Two."> Short, succinct communication. Short, succinct squeeze of the trigger on her flightstick. A short, succinct burst of red laser cannon fire that stitches through the enemy craft's shields and nearly destroys it. It doesn't even try to evade after. No worry whatsoever what's happened to it. <"Are these drones?"> She streaks by, leaving Ektor to try to clean up her mess.

Elrych looks down into the soup of the storm, his sensors lighting up with enemies as they rocket towards them. He cycles through a couple, settling on Red Claw THree. He turns hard, pressing the chase. HE fires when his sights turn green but the Claw is faster or ready for it. <<"Stang.">> He glances out the canopy again, raising an eyebrow as he notices something within the myst of the volcano. "Oh sh-..." He keys the comms <<"Guys.. That harrower is right.. above... us... and it looks very functional!">> Damn... what went wrong. He keeps a sharp eye, keeping his turning sharp and to the point.

"What the sopping wet drek is this?" Ektor mutters at the activation of a full squadron beneath and behind them. <<A dozen unknown marks->> Jess says it first, <<Rekk me, more rekking drones? Bunch of Hutt-sucking- coming in behind you, Three,>> he follows up Jessika's punishing cannonade, finishing off the damaged fighter. Then, Elrych chines in. <<Above us. Nah, that was just Buhbors waving hello-Oh, you meant THAT Harrower. Well. Hell.>> A terse exhale as he maneuvers to avoid counterfire. <<Lead, you want a big boom up there or.. what.>>

<"Good shoots, Six, banking to get to your wing - you're lead."> voice electric as he twists and brings the little craft over hard, spraying a wall of vaporizing water into the air as the ship slews around hard.

"Shallabryay is burnin'... Shallabryay is gone. One day I'll be returnin', till then I must be strong..." sensor indicators come up with bracketed ? symbols as his sensors try to get an ID on the craft, while Bors keeps his rhythm. Eyes looking for the harrower while watching for the backside of his target,

<"Think I scraped it's shields, Six."> teeth bared a moment as he swings his craft to try and keep the enemy fixed forward without leaving himself a aquatic-avian for someone else to pop shots at.

"For now that I must journey, my foes may overwhelm... But I can't return to her, till I've crossed the seven realms..." Where in the name of the Mother did he hear this blasted catchy tune??

The Harrower can't be seen through the thick of heated black clouds, but it's there. Occasional flashes of red heat lightning reveal its looming outline above, hovering in the safety of heated air pressure, winds, and lack of visibility. Also above the squadron, black clouds. Their fight is forced to stay low, tangling with these unknown crafts or they risk going high and being caught in the turbulent air, evading death and maintaining a steady flight path.

The patterns of these fighters are a bit predictable though. Like droids, they show no fear in their mission. Much of the squadron has fighters on them, and Poe has three behind him. "I SEE EM, I SEE EM!" He screams at BB-8, spinning because that's a good trick, and cutting back to zero in on one fighter. He smashes it with two cannons but has to break off in order to preserve his craft. <<"Rekkin' drek.. they're everywhere.">> Poe calls over comms, his voice still robotic but conveying the urgency of the situation.

<<"Xer, if we break off into those clouds, we'll get ripped apart. Best to worry about these clowns and see if an opportunity presents itself!">>

<"Hey, I don't know if anyone noticed, but I don't think we got rid of that thing."> It's unsettling. The ominous shadow of the ancient craft lurks behind the storm clouds like a predator gliding silent through an ocean. She pretty much hates it. There's not as much maneuverability down here, but she manages, skirting along the surface of the water so close sometimes that her shields threaten to skim against it. <"Three, going for Four."> She vectors in on a new craft, working to get a reticle lead on the craft. Acquiring one doesn't mean anything in this instance, because she can line it up all she wants, but if the thing changes plane at the last second, there's nothing she can do but watch her shots go by. <"Overshooting!"> She clears the way for Ektor behind her, leaving him to take his shot at the craft.

Surprisingly none of the enemy craft come at them, <<"Dunno... they sure act like it!">> In responce to whether or not they're droids. He sticks with his Wingman, poor Buhbors, as he maneuvers artfuly through the skys. He chases down Claw Three, just barely angling in for a green tone on his retical. It's almost like it was luck as he depresses the trigger and sends scarlet death its way. One of the heavy canons hit, exploding against the canopy and causing the craft to list to the side. Eventually it finds its way into the rough seas bellow. <<"Black Six, Splash One.">> HE announces, preparing for any coutner attack.

Ektor follows Jessika's lead through the chaotic dogfight, easily avoiding the first blast sent at his Y-wing. He starts to laughingly argue back at Poe, <<Torn apart? You kidding me? These dreks couldn't hit->> His bomber rocks with a heavy hit to the shields. <<...Okay, you might have a point. Thanks for setting the table, Three,>> he adds to Jess, before annihilating the fighter as it dodges out of her path and squarely into his crosshairs. <<Boom, baby.>>

<<"Lead, we could shoot by eye if I engage jammers.">> Bors's voice crackles over the comms distortion. Green energy darts register heat near his shields or strike the seas while the jaunty little wedge craft breaking hard and banking hard to get himself clear.

Holding to Elrych's seven o'clock, a snapshot at one of the craft as they pass. <<"Things have some zip...">> looking up again at the silhouette in the clouds above. <<"They have any more of those things under the surface, headed our way, we're going to be caught between a rancor and a wampa, lead."> focusing everywhere and nowhere at once - watching his and Six's back simultaneously even.

<<"We don't want to jam yet. We'll use it to lose them when we push for orbit. We don't have the punch needed to hit that Harrower.">> Poe says, his voice still urgent. He blasts one of the fighters he's after and immediately has to break off. He avoids being hit once, but a glancing shot makes his shields shimmer. Poe levels out above the water and kicks up the speed, moving quick and over the waves as if dancing over the surface with his craft.

The fighters Black squad is squaring off with have no qualms going under water and back up. In fact, a few do it to throw off the aim of the experienced pilots, making it difficult to slag anything not properly in the air. <<"Have your droids do idle scans when they're able.. maybe we can pick something up while we're fighting.">>

<"Should have brought the Pantheon,"> Jessika offers over the net, trying to add a moment of brevity to an otherwise not funny situation. They're in a bad spot, just like when her team came across the ancient ship in the first place. <"Could have just hit that thing from orbit. Only way to be sure."> She might have missed the last target, but she doesn't miss this next one. She lands two solid smacks against its shielding and watches as it shimmers in response to the powerful strikes from her laser cannons. <"If it was asleep, it's awake now, Three."> In short terms: be prepared for the thing to go evasive and try to adjust for that. Jessika's not sure how to adjust for the randomness of a drone system, yet, but it's good information all the same.

<<"We could always just slip the shilds like we did the strike cruiser.">> Elrych suggests, <<"Then again...">> They did have 3 force sensatives doing that and there was just one of him... and he almost hit on the shields the first pass. <<"Alright bad idea.">> He maneuvers behind the lead, attempting to smash lasers into it but they go wide as the ship moves.

Ektor weaves through the lances of enemy cannonfire, cackling at Jess's dry humor. <<You get me the nicest drek, yeah?>> as Black Two drives a damaged drone into his path again, where the Wishbone's nose cannons tear the sea and sky fighter apart in a satisfying atmospheric fireball. <<Annnd we put it right back to bed.>> A dumb chuckle. "See what I did there, Genius? It's awake, we put it back to bed?" An unamused honk is his answer. "Hey, what got in your gears? You used to date that drone or something? Hell.. Listen if you ain't gonna laugh, get to scanning the thing, yeah?"

<<"Copy lead, primed and ready. On your leave.">> shots all around him, no droid to run scans, Bors attempts to focus on firing for now while working on visual checks. Unlucky for him he's not able to multi-task, scout...

<<"Lead, let Elrock on your wing - I can use this beast for what it's made to do.">> He doesn't break away though, he keeps his position on Six's wing. Stitching bursts of steam as missed shots cut across the water surface. Moving in line and waiting for Poe's command decision.

<<"Alright, you want to push that thing to the limit, go for it, Bors. But those skies are rough, pal. Get us some good scans.">>

BB-8 warbles happy beeps about just getting the shields back up only for them to take another hit. The BB-series astromech dips back below 'grumbling'. "I know, I know! Trust me, I hate these guys too." Poe says to BB-8. <<"Elrock, you're with me now. Black Squad, let's clear the way here so we can get the hell out.">> It was time for some fancy flying, so Poe flips down his visor and squints.

Jess was right, they should just bomb it from orbit. It is the only way to be sure.

Jessika has half a mind to tell Bors he may want to rethink his plan to fight the currents and try to scan the big, scary ship through the interference of the storm around it, but this isn't Jessika's show. It's Poe's, and Poe clears him for it. "Fly boys and their craziness.." She mutters it to herself. The third target of opportunity presents itself and Jessika lines up on it. The X-Wing bears down in the space it has available to it, and although it's not the ballet of flying she can force her ship through in zero gravity, she nonetheless knows what she's doing in the more fluid atmosphere. Which means the drone is easy to line up on, and easy to squeeze off a salvo towards. She's not flagged a single kill in this, but she doesn't care.

<"Three, Six. Can you pull off the triple? I don't think you can do it."> But she gives him all the opportunity he needs for it by battering the shields of the craft so mercilessly that it's a wonder it has anything left to work with.

Elrych pushes the throttle hard, flying up to catch Poe on his wing. Luckily Red Claw one comes back around. <<"'Excuse me one second...">> He says to his new wingmate, turning hard to chase after the attacker. He angles just right, getting a green tone, pressing the trigger. His heavy canons smash into the craft and send it back to the watery depths. He pulls hard back to come back to Black Leader's wing. <<"Alright... back...">>

<< I hear you, Pretty Boy: rekking their drek up and getting the Hell out,>> he draws in robotically distorted profanity. A crooked grin bends his lip at Jessika's playful challenge. <<Ooh, you know just what to say. It is ON.>> Bombers aren't meant to maneuver in the way Ektor flies, but the cannons drain power in a torrent of ruby energy that chews through the last of Jessika's crippled mark, and continues on to slam into the shields of a second. But he can't land the second killing shot, let alone a third. <<Damn. Arright you win, what was the bet, again?>>

<<"Alderaanian quality, I assure you, lead.">> Again the engines flare to nearly white before the A-wing leaps forward, angling up with a waggle of its non-existent wings to salute the others while Bors pushes the throttle lever all the way to the point he's personally notched and etched at '11' - much to the irritation of his ship tech.

Bors has a need. You see. For gratuitous acceleration. Again - A-Wing pilots... Skimming through the clouds at top speed, unable to not imagine the winds blowing back face and hair, and it sounds in his voice, <<"Lot of electrical interference on reads... scanning...">> Sensors alert of ionization in the air as his systems get through. <<"Solid read, third sweep!">>

He twists the stick and leans into his bank, electricity sparking across shields and over the hull, striking away paint and making the smell of ozone fill the cockpit, "Come now, lady. He have this." Another jolt "Now now, don't be cross." the ship then kicks over and he lets directional thrusters drop him into a hard dive.

<<"Seven, Lead. Have scans - can still employ jamming on your mark.">> Good thing no one is close enough for his grin to be seen. It's undignified.

Poe moves his fighter with a practiced grace of an ace pilot. Using each shot to cripple and slag. By the end of his fancy loop, two boiling fiery ships splash into the sea and Black Leader has leveled out above the waves and 'punched it' to move forward. Poe's mind wasn't on Bors who had volunteered for a dangerous side mission in order to get scans. That was Bors' problem. Poe was focused on the fighters they needed to clear in order to get out. The engagement to shore up fighters leaves, and Poe's grinning.

<<"Good to hear, you're back. Bad news is, I'm picking up more contacts. They appear to be coming from above. Jess, find us an exit vector and everyone form up on her. I'll bring up the rear. Clear atmo and punch it.-- Bors, flip that jammer, buddy!">>

There's a long silence from Black Two when Ektor announces that she has won the challenge, and for the actual life of her, Jessika Pava recounts in her head. Target six was number three, the triple, and Ektor blew it out of the sky before landing a solid hit on seven. She's sure of it. It's going over in her head, now. They killed Two, then Four, and then Six. Three targets. She'd challenged him to kill Six, the third target. He'd killed the target. Number three. Triple kill. And then, he'd said, 'You win, what was the bet, again?' It'd be impossible for anyone to see her face in the cockpit given the speed at which they're flying and the constant flicker of light reflecting off the transparisteel viewports.... but Jessika Pava is assuredly giving The Look. The seconds tick by and she doesn't even know what to say.

Before she can come up with any prize to claim, Black Leader calls for her to find an exit vector. Yanking her craft into a quick spiral and nosing it up towards the atmosphere, both she an Ailee put their proverbial heads together and pull up a white hot image of the sky in front of them. Plagued by ash, she can see the hot sections as black streaks against the grey imagery. <"Roger, Lead! Follow me, boys."> Closing her s-foils into cruise position, Jessika forces her throttle back full and cuts a path through the atmosphere to try and get them out safely to space and beyond the gravity well to escape.

Elrych clicks his comms to acknowledge the order from Poe. He sticks tight to the Squadron leader, pushing the throttle as far as he can as he rides into the atmo. Getting chased all the way to the jump point was a wild ride. <<"Ready to jump when you are lead!">>

Ektor instructs his long-suffering astromech, "Don't bother restoring shields, kick auxiliary power to engines, we gotta keep up, yeah?" The Wishbone's nacelles glow orange as the Tionese pirate races along after the pathfinding Pava. His remaining shields are thrown double strong to the rear. <<Clearing atmo, now- hey Pretty Boy, you arright back there?>>

Click... Click click click... "What the..." click... SMACK. A fist thumps down hard on top of his console, <<"Lead, I think systems got a little ionized by the storm. Better keep up the evasive flying.">> Grimacing deep and slapping his hand against the console to pop a panel, flying one handed while he twists a screw and begins adjusting wires.

"This is unbecoming..." brows knitting together before he's forced to take the stick again, to line up his flight angle, trying to get into formation again. <<"Working on it.">> Then suddenly he goes cold. So cold. He wonders if this is what it felt like when his world died. Numbness to the core of him.

<<"By the Mother - is she...?">> he doesn't confirm it. Not aloud. If he says it out loud it becomes real and it may suddenly be turned to him. All the agony and all the fear of a thousand star systems weighs above him, around him. The stuff of nightmares and now he considers if the enemy behind might be more palpable than the terror at his twelve.

Space is warmer.

"God damn it, how are these guys still following us.." Poe laments, weaving as they pass through the heavy heated clouds and smoke and into space. The moment he begins to hit the resistance of the atmosphere, he closes his s-foils to adopt a cruise pace, which plants him back against his seat. His ship rocks with a solid hit, and BB-8 warns. "I know, pal.. hang on." He growls. <<"Don't wait on me, punch it!">> Poe watches his team jump to lightspeed before he's pulling the lever back too. His view meshes into an elongated lightshow that promptly turns to blue swirls. He made it. <<"All good here, Tion. That got a few good licks before we jumped out.">>