Log:Damned If You Duros, Damned If You Don't

Damned If You Duros, Damned If You Don't

OOC Date: February 11, 2016
Location: Nar Shaddaa, Near Corestar Spaceport
Participants: Gren Delede(also GM), Sar Yavok, Narsai Ordo, Rax Vaelus, Rebel Yell

It has been a long flight. Rebel Yell was hired to provide a fighter escort for a YT-1300 carrying unknown, but apparently valuable cargo. The employer

couldn't afford more than a pair of escorts, and it would appear that the two ranking members of the merc company drew the short straws. They are returning

from the Rim, and they're almost home...but first, they're supposed to escort Night Flyer to Corestar Spaceport.

Last Call is flying high cover, cruising above the Corellian freighter, and Gren is faithfully watching his high powered scanners. It might have been a milk

run so far, but he's being paid to do a job, so he'll continue doing it until they land. <<I'm starving. You want to grab some dinner when we land?>> He

chats conversationally over the radio, as they head for their destination.

Sar Yavok is busy reading over a systems check that Rexie has ported to his main terminal as Gren speaks. The commander reaches up and taps the 'open comm'

button resting above his head. <<Yeah. What are you feelin'? Rodan?>>> Sar smirks and continues along in the Firebrand, flying neck and neck to the

freighter. "Thanks, Rex. Looks good," he offers off-handedly to his R3.

<<Asshole. How about Ithorian? Could use a salad...>> Gren's reply comes back loud and clear, though his annoyance at the joke is audible. Furter words are

lost though, as laser fire cuts through the air. Bright red tracers burning up from below them, seemingly careless of the speeder and ship traffic that

fills the space between the freighter and pair of fighters. The attackers themselves are obscured by traffic, and prove difficult to see. But, they are

clearly targeting the Rebel Yell starfighers.

<<<Piss. Going evasive. Can't see them. Do you have a visual?>> Gren's voice is calm, as the A-wing rolls over to starboard, and avoids the barrage of laser

fire directed at it. His head is now turning, and looking in as many directions as he can manage, trying to maintain awareness, and find the attackers. He

clearly wasn't able to use his sensors effectively in all of the ground clutter.

<<<At least you'd be shitting in your own ship, this time>>> The long train of laughter is cut off as Sar depresses the button. Then the tracers happen.

<<<Yep. They're below us.>>> He jams his throttle back and angles the Firebrand down.

The skies of Nar Shaddaa are about to get a lot brighter as two starfighters running intercept for a freighter have come under fire by a trio of Z-95

Headhunters of unknown origin. What will our intrepid heroes do!?

<<<Aye. Got 'em. Thanks.>>> Last Call's pilot replies, as Sar indicates the direction from which they're being assault. The A-wing's powerful engines are

pushed to their limit, and the little starfighter is suddenly going as fast as anything else in the sector. He pulls up, and snap rolls to port, avoiding

more laser blasts. <<<Watch your fire, Sar. Collateral damage is bad.>>> Gren replies, before throwing his fighter into a steep dive, and tearing toward an

attacker in what is clearly going to be a head-on pass. A tight smile, and the pilot pushes his firing stud, sending red bolts into the Headunter, knocking

out its shields, and doing serious damage to its hull. <<<NSec. Where are you? You need to clear this area...>>> No reply. NSec, so far, seems to be taking

the day off.

Traffic is going mad, at this point. Speeders are zipping out of their lanes, and trying to find shelter. Missed laser blasts are tearing nto skyways, and

buildings. This could get messy.

Near Corestar Spaceport, there has been a sudden outbreak of violence. A YT-1300 and the pair of starfighters escorting it have come under attack by a trio

of Z-95 Headhunters. An A-wing and an old Porax-38 are in the process of fighting off the assault, but civilian casualties are almost inevitable at this

point. The sky canyons of Nar Shaddaa are not an ideal place for a starfighter battle. The YT-1300 itself has not come under attack, strangely.

Gunfire up above and her freighter up and running? Narsai is in the pilot seat of her baby, the Thunderheart's engines roaring to life and power flowing

into the sheild systems, the weapons heating up. She's not done all that work on her own ship and several others down below just for some strangers to go

blasting chunks down of ship down onto the landing pad. The silver custom freighter zips into the air at a speed that would make a TIE interceptor pilot

weep, the mandalorian pilot flicking the switches for the vessels laser cannons. It's probably a good thing she'd seen that A-Wing before, but even then

targeting the fighters that almost shot her ship would be an easy choice.

The Firebrand, a Clone War-era Porax-38 starfighter, isn't nearly as nimble as the aforementioned A-Wing, but its pilot is no slouch, and he manages to

deftly manuever the wide ship around the frantic traffic that has cropped up due to the firefight. <<<Firebrand to Night Flyer, stay on course. We've got

this handled.>>> The old Corellian jams his throttle forward and positions himself behind one of the attacking Z-95s, sending a burst into its shields,

which lightly flicker under the barrage.

Swiveling around into place, the massive weapons array of the Thunderheart is brought to bear, and Rax is sitting in the command couch, trying not to fight

the chair. "Damn...bloody...poodoo controls..." He mutters and furrows his brow, wearing a leather jacket along with his explorer's garb. He'd just been

hosting a party too. In Mandalorian, he comms to Narsai, "Ready. Confirming targets. Clear to fire?" He really hopes he got that right. That could be badly

mistranslated...

The Thunderheart's guns roar to life as Narsai jams down on the triggers of her custom tailored controls. "Light 'em up!" she calls back towards Rax. Either

his words were right or she got the gist of it. The heavy cannons pummel down the shields of the fighter with ease and she sweeps, turning in to tail.

"Suprise shutta...I'm as fast as you and my guns are bigger..." she grins under her breath.

There is a groan from Gren, as he is forced into a steep climb. He's sticking with his own target easily enough, and as he chases the lead Headhunter past

the YT-1300, he finds himself getting a rather nasty surprise. The freighter that they were hired to escort? It's turbolasers swivel to target the Last Call

as it blazes past, and stitches the small starfighter with fire. Shields are down, and an alarm is going off in his cockpit. <<<Firebrand. Weapons free on

the the package. It just fucking shot me.>>> A little thing like losing his shields doesn't keep him from firing a burst from his own cannons, and the

result is a Z-95 rolling over, and slamming into one of Nar Shaddaa's numerous skyways. That can't be good for its structural integrity. <<<Got one.>>>

Thunderheart has made itself a target, and one of the surviving Headhunters is moving to intercept the fast freighter, while the other continues to focus on

Sar. Gren finds himself having to deal with Night Flyer....while those with sharp eyes might spot another pair of fast movers entering the mix. A pair of

R41 Starchasers. They're ugly, but they're tough and mean, and they are clearly there to support the Headhunters, as missile lock warnings start to erupt in

the cockpits of the Porax-38 and A-wing. Meanwhile, a number of speeders have been caught by stray bursts of enemy fire, and it is carnage.

<<<Yeah, well this was looking a little too easy, wasn't it, Last Call?>>> Sar remarks, just after dodging a turbolaser barrage from the Night Flyer's

cannons, causing his second burst on the Z-95 to fly wide. <<<Goddamn it, Gren. What did I tell you about taking a contract from a Duros? You don't trust a

a damn Duros.>>>

The heavy blasters of the Thunderheart's turret just -barely- miss the Headhunter Rax had been aiming for. Muttering to himself, he repeats, "Don't fight

the chair... Don't fight the chair..." Rocking back and forth a bit as he works the controls, trying to smooth them out, Rax slowly floats the crosshairs

over the Headhunter, following it patiently for the next attack...

<<<He paid upfront!>>> Gren complains over the comms, as he tries to line up a shot on the Night Flyer. He's just about to pull the trigger when the missile

alarms start to go off...and then BOOM. There is an explosion behind Last Call, and the A-wing's hull takes significant damage as a missile detonates

nearby. The paint job is wrecked, hull plates have buckled, and are falling off. The starfighter plummets down into the traffic, and Delede is frantically

adjusting dials, and flipping switches as he shunts power to shields, trying to get them back online. <<<Sar. Help Sabella if I can't...>>> An ominious, and

out of character transmission. His shields do return, and in decent shape...but his hull is still trashed. And he's still got a Starchaser trying to kill

him.

A blast from the freighter, but this time Narsai's guns don't find their mark. Broadcasting the comms as she gives chase the female Ace Pilot tries to make

contact with the Rebel Yell. <<Rebel Yell fighters this is Thunderheart. Looks like you could use a little help here!>> Of course, her interuption to the

channel might have come a little late when Gren takes that hard hit and she gives a grunt, angling her ship. "Rax, stay on that Headhunter, I'm going after

the Starchaser."

<<<Shut up and fly, you->>> His insult is cut short as a blast from the Z-95 behind him cuts through his shields and patters all along his hull. "Goddamn,

sonava bit-" You get the picture. "Rexie, get those shields back up, or I'll eject you quicker than look atcha!" The little green astromech beeps

frantically and begins working away, making quick work of the repair. Confident that he's not going to die, Sar throws his throttle back all the way,

sending the Z-95 shooting past him at max speed. The Commander draws a quick bead. Bam. The Headhunter goes up in a fireball as the Firebrand's concussion

missile rips through it.

<<<Good to see you, Thunderheart. Can't say we don't appreciate your help."

The heavy blasters of the Thunderheart rip into the Headhunter off in the distance, slamming into its shields. "Got'cha covered." comes the voice of Rax

Vaelus as the turret array continues to follow the swift vessel. Muttering to himself, he comments more quietly, "Don't... fight... the chair..." Then he

jerks aside. "Who designs these things?!"

Delede isn't one to stay out of a fight. His hull is wrecked, but his shields are back, and that is enough for him. Last Call zips back into the fight,

stitching a smattering of laser fire into the shields of the R41 that is chasing Sar, apparently trusting in Thunderheart to keep his own tail sort of

clean. As it stands, he corkscrews around the incoming fire, and maintains a slightly shaky lock on the Starchaser. <<<We'll buy you a round, Thunderchild.

Two rounds, if we win.>>>

The Night Flyer continues to try and fire on the Rebel Yell fighters, while one of the R41's is after Sar, and the other has decided to try and get a lock

on the Thunderchild...having thought the A-wing vaped, rather than badly damaged, when it plummeted into the canyons, moments before.

It's a smooth approach, Narsai knocking shields down hard for Rax to try and finish with the turret guns. Neither is lacking in firepower after all. Seeing

the fighter break after her and leave the A-Wing she actually grins. Last time she'd been in a fight like this? It had practically been an all-out war.

This? This was fun. "C'mon then..." she murmers at the fighter coming towards her, knocking down its shields in a flurry of heavy blaster bolts.

<<<Don't let him lie to you. I'll be paying, more than likely. Gren's never paid for a drink in his life>>> The Old Man grins. Though, his chipper attitude

is soon to be rewarded with a kick in the ass in the form of a concussion missile the slams into his rightside engine, sending the unit spinning off to

smash into a nearby office building. <<<Fuck! Firebrand going d->>> The comms go down, as an enemy fighters adds insult to injury, sending another burst

into the freshly-unshielded Porax-38.

But Sar's not gonna go down like this. No no no. He's gonna die at the ripe old age of 125 sandwiched between two Trandoshan honies, like he'd always dreamt

about. The Rebel Yell commander fights the yoke as hard as he can in an attempt to keep the ship from getting consumed into a tight spin. He's pretty

successful, too.

The Porax bounces roughly against the side of a building, into the side of an automated delivery ship, and through a neon sign before he pulls the throttle

back hard and slams into the ground, sparks shooting out liberally as the old fighter lazily spin along the duracrete ground of the Gearhead District.

The Old Man exhales a slow breath and lays his head back against the headrest, reaching up to wipe some sweat from his face before he angles his feet to

kick the canopy open and moves to spill out onto the ground, looking up at the sky. "Fuck...I bet that looked pretty cool."

The quad cannons of the Thunderheart punch through the Z-95 at last, and the fighter spirals out of control. "Contact going down," Rax comments to the

pilot, in Mandalorian. Not slain, but certainly out of the fight, the Headhunter descends into the city below, and the heavy cannons track about, searching

for new prey... Then, noticing the loss of one of the friendlies, Rax adds, more subdued and in Basic, "Friendly down." Watching the battle head, he doesn't

see where the old fighter ends up.

The quad laser fire from the YT-1300 doesn't come close to Last Call, as she dances around the traffic, and laser bursts, and basic chaos...but, her pilot's

concern is evident in his voice, as comms crackle. <<<Sar? Do you read? I repeat, do you read?>>> Gren hauls back on the flight stick, and throws the speedy

ship into a roll, and then a dive toward the R41 that shot down his old friend. A short burst from long range causes the ugly fighter's shields to flicker,

but that merely serves to warn the target that he is being hunted. He's focused on revenge, leaving the Thunderchild to deal with her own attacker...and

allowing Night Flyer to focus on the other freighter, as well. <<<Rebel Yell Control. Dispatch medical support to the Gearhead district. And a goddamn

salvage team.>>>

Taking the hit, Narsai's console flashes up with bright warnings and she mutters several curses under her breath before banking the craft. She's not giving

up her prey just yet. "Rax, get that fighter off our tail..." she calls over the comm as she flicks a switch on her weapons, the words 'Missile Armed'

lighting up red.

<<<Yeah, I'm good>>> resonates over the Last Call's comm system. <<<Think I scraped my knee a little bit, though>>> Sar rolls over to stand up from the cold

floor and brushes himself off, taking a moment to rub at his sore...everything. He rolls his neck and holds his comm up <<<I'm...well, I'm just down the

street from Moe's, I think. I might go see about my new fighter. Looks like I'm gonna need it.>>>

"On it." Rax slowly floats the targeting reticule around, watching the R41, then glancing down at the two red checkerboard fields framing an oval between

them. It drifts in, it drifts out, it drifts in again, and...

As the small icon flashes yellow, both triggers are mashed down, sending a flurry of heavy cannon fire into pursuing vessels shields and hull. A blistering

hail of high-powered fire, Rax growls quietly, his voice thick with rage, "Getting tired... Of seeing people go down..." Then Sar's voice comes over the

comms, and Rax's eyebrows lift, his voice going back to normal. "Oh, huh. He made it. ...What a nerf herder."

<<<Asshole. I thought you died, and I inherited it all for myself.>>> Gren replies, trying to sound conversational. Thre is a smile behind his old Alliance

helmet...he's hearing a solid tone, now. His reticle lights up red, and he squeezes the trigger. A pair of concussion missiles streak out from their

launchers, and merge with the R-41 that was attempting to retreat after being damaged by Thunderchild. The two missiles exploding merges with the

starfighter evaporating into an expanding cloud of burning fuel, exploding munitions, and melting metal. Last Call zips through the mess, shields glowing

and pinging. <<<Sar. Fucker who shot you down is dead. Bet it was a Rodian.>>> And then he's climbing toward Night Flyer. <<<Thunderchild...you still good

over there?>>>

Narsai's concussion missile cripples the target, but the second shot blasts it to hell and she watches it explode. Two targets remaining, one half-dead.

Those are decent odds. Hearing Sar's voice over the comms does make her smile, but she's on her way towards the bugger that shot at her shields now,

sweeping the suprisingly fast and nimble freighter around on the ship chasing her. <<This is Thunderheart, just cleaning up. Be with you shortly.>>

<<<Probably must be>>> Sar remarks, moving to climb onto the top of the smoldering wreckage that half-way resembles the Firebrand. He gives the shaken

Rexie a pat on the head and hefts the heavy droid out of the socket. "Quit lazing around, Rexie. Get to work on this hunk of junk, already!" He shouts

with a grin. The droid simple exclaims something that could easily be intepreted as 'WHAT!?'

As the freighter whips about, Rax's target lock is broken and the quad cannons roar impotently into the atmosphere. Zipping past an open cockpit aircruiser,

an elderly Dug inside leans over and shakes a fist at the ships fighting down below, "Mercenary poodoo!" Grumbling to himself, Rax swings the cannons back

around, attempting to re-acquire.

<<<Fucking double-cross me....>>> Gren Delede transmits into his comm, as Last Call's engines are once again red-lined. They thrum, as he manuevers around a

skyway, and settles his crosshairs over the Night Flyer. He's not even going to try to ask who they work for. Defensive fire splashes off of his shields,

and shorts them out, again. But at this point, it is moot. The awkward freighter can't evade him, or the pair of concussion missiles that leave their tubes.

Another pair of explosions, and the YT-1300 is gutted...the disc snaps in half, and bits and pieces of hull, crew, and whatever passed for cargo begin to

rain down onto Nar Shaddaa's populace. Atleast one more speeder finds a nasty end as the cockpit, complete with Duros pilot, collides with an Air Taxi that

was in too much of a hurry to find proper shelter. <<<Scratch one double-crossing Duros.>>>

The chase is on, the fighter and the Thunderheart trying to outmaneuver each other to draw that fatal line. Then Narsai gets tricky. Banking upwards, the

freighter climbs and climbs before the pilot suddenly throws the ship's engines into a reverse and flicks on the retro-thrusters, effectively and violently

throwing the craft into a dive at the likely startled R41 chasing their tail. She jams on her guns, battering the ships shield as she blows past...and puts

the fighter right into perfect pan for the turret gunner trying to regain his lock.

<<<Well, at least there's that.>>> Sar stands with Rexie over looking the wreckage as a Rebel Yell salvage crew shows up and begins loading the Porax onto

hoverlift. The Old Mand nods to them and gives his astromech a kick in the ass as he begins limping down the street to catch a taxi to the nearest bar. Wheeling about in his command chair, Rax pivots and inclines as Narsai whips the ship about, following the R41 as it jukes and weaves to follow.

Unfortunately, Rax narrows his eyes and...waits. And waits. And waits. And then--there it is. The R41 weaves left just like before, and the Quad Cannon

blasts are there waiting for it. They slam directly into the nose of the vehicle, right through the weakened shields, and detonate the vehicle in a

fireball. Flipping his comm to the local channel, he comments, "Clear skies."

<<<Thanks again for the help, Thunderchild.>>> Is he purposefully mis-naming the ship, or his Gren's memory that bad? It is a mystery. <<<Shame that NSec

wasn't -anywhere- to be seen isn't it?>>> Bribery at play? Likely. <<<If you need any help making repairs, let us know.>>> Last Call's traveling low and

slow, as if searching for wreckage. <<<I'm going to see if I can kick emergency services in the ass, get them out here. Sar, let me know where you'll be

drinking. I'll need a few.>>> He knows his friend is looking for a bar. He's not stupid.

<<I'll collect on that drink and you can tell me what the hell all this was about Last Call,>> Narsai comms back, apparently ignoring the misnaming of her

ship as the craft starts the flight back to the landing pad, a smile still plastered across the pilot's face. The thrill of a dogfight, there's nothing

quite like it. Closing her eyes for a moment she exhales, calming her breath and swearing she could feel every last goosebump on her skin before she opens

them again. "Rax, power down those guns. We're coming in for a landing, I need to check my girl and make sure she wasn't scratched up too bad."