Log:First Order/Rebel Yell: Routine Patrol
A routine patrol of the Bayuir skies turns up gun-runners
OOC Date: February 25, 2016
Location: Bayuir
Participants: Gren Delede, Kelnas, Fuze, FL-5114, HM-8668, First Order
Bayuir is a planet under occupation, and despite it's insurgency made up of Trandoshans...Rebel Yell has accepted a contract to supply them with weapons, and other material. A small formation of ships flickers out of hyperspac into the edge of the system. It consists of an A-wing painted blue and white, and showing plenty of signs of long service, a pair of Z-95 Headhunters, and a light freighter apparently under this escort. The A-wing appears to be taking point.
<<<Kel, just keep in in close, and keep your peepers peeled. And, don't forget...if you tell that Wook buddy of yours that we're helping the lizards...you're fired.>>> The Coruscanti's Imperial accent filters over the comm, as he guides the Last Call into formation. He scans the ship's powerful sensors, and shifts his head to and fro, checking his angles in the bubble canopy. Gren Delede's smiling behind his old Rebel flight helmet...<<<We'll grab a Trando gal for Sar, if there seems to be one willing, too.>>> He throttles back a hair, allowing the slower ships to remain close.
Relaxing in the cockpit of the Corvid, Kelnas listens to gren and chuckles <<Yeah...not telling Low that i took my ship from him for this. It's not you firing me that I'd be worried about.>> Watching his screens, the Wroonian humms to himself as he rolls a cigarette and checks over the diagnostics
FZ-4792, squadron leader of 'Aurek' flight and callsign 'Fuze', is leading a patrol of four TIEs, herself included. Their mission is simple - locate and exterminate any Trandoshan camps they might encounter. To say that there is bad blood between the Trandoshan and the First Order is an understatement; a recent training exercise gone bad resulted in the deaths of seven First Order Stormtroopers, five of them hanged from a tree by a Trand hunting party. Fuze's voice is all business as she sweeps the TIEs in an asymmetric chevron formation, herself at the apex, hugging the ground to try to catch the lizardfolk in a hunting camp and then to circle and destroy it. "Keep your eyes peeled for the little buggers," her voice warns over comms. "Sing out if you see anything, don't just go charging off."
Aurek 3, callsign Slice, stays behind and echelon right to Fuze and her wingman. "Copy that, Aurek Lead."
<<<Once we break atmo, we'll have to dodge Imp Jr flights, more than like. So stay sharp, folks.>>> Gren says conversationally over the private tacnet. It isn't a terribly long flight that has them doing just that, moving as fast as they can as a unit. Which isn't nearly as fast as Delede would like to keep Last Call moving. <<<Or we'll just engage them if we spot any. I haven't decided yet.>>> The engines thrum, and the hull glows hot as they break into the upper atmosphere not far from Fuze's flight.
Dropping into formation with Gren, Kelnas grins as he dumps his throttle doing his best to stay on the much faster ship's tail. <<Yeah. That's a plan...you with your fighter...and me with my TRANSPORT. that being said. I'm always up for suicidally stupid ideas...They tend to work for me.>>
The sensors displays in her TIE light up like Christmas trees, and inside her helmet, Fuze's eyes widen as she takes in the screens on her HUD and inside the cockpit. "Three...no, four contacts, fifty clicks out, bearing one eight zero high. No IFF beacons. Stay on me. Aurek Two, stick to me like glue." Aurek Two is piloted by the unfortunately designated QT-4400 and thus immediately given the callsign 'Cutie', a rookie pilot with just a few hours in this particular model of TIE. "Bayuir FOB, Aurek Flight. Four contacts, grid ZA14, investigating." Then she switches to the hailing frequency, broadcasting unencrypted: "This is Aurek One to unidentified craft over Bayuir. Identify yourselves and land immediately, this is a no-fly zone. Comply or you will be shot down." She's already sweeping the flight round, the characteristic whine of the twin ion engines like so many demented wasps as they move on an interception course.
Standing on a hill on the ground, FL-5114 watches the aerial battle with mild interest. Of more interest are the hot dogs and marshmallows his cooking over an open fire. He's sitting on a log, freshly knocked over by the AT-ST looming next to him. Sliding some hot dogs into a plate, he takes one of the gooey marshmallows and...pauses. Helmet. Right. This is awkward.
Slice has only slightly more expierence that the rookie that is Aurek 2. Aurek 4, better known as Trach for getting too close to targets in training, is another rookie. "Sensors confirmed, Aurek Lead. I make four targets. Trach, stay on my right. Aurek Lead, do you wish me to support you or move to cut off retreat?" Slice manipulates controls, while breathing to calm nerves beneath his flight helmet.
<<<Yeah. We're not running, Kel.>>> Not that the freighter would likely be able to do so, mind. The A-wing slews around, and Delede punches the throttle. The big engines burn bright, and he eyes his own scanners for a moment. <<<Looks like four of Eyeballs...well, new Eyeballs. Bert and Elchao stay with the freighter. I'll do my own thing.>>> A flick of a switch on his panel, and weapons go hot. A button is pressed, and he's on the open frequency. <<<This is Last Call, Diet Imps. And, we're not stopping. So, shoot us down, or die trying.>>> The Coruscanti accent disappears as the channel is cut. He's ready to go, clearly.
Hearing Gren, Kelnas grins wide and flips the switch locking his turret mounts to the forward position. <<10-4 Gren. Bert, Elchao...I got a gram of Prime Cheeba for the first on of you to down an eyeball.>>
Following Fuze's orders to stay together, Slice moves to engage the lead target. The A-wing lives up to its reputation and manages to work behind all the TIEs before they can get off a clear shot. But this why the new models have gunners. And Slice's gunner takes a shot at the A-wing, scoring a minor hit on the fleet ship.
Down on the planet, FL-5114 thrusts a fist into the air, "Yeah! Get 'em!" Chewing on his hot dog, complete with lightly roasted and seasoned bun, some local ketchup, and designer mustard from Serenno, FL-5114 watches the fireworks above, occasionally lifting his binoculars to his eyes as he sits on the shade of the AT-ST.
"Did he just call us Diet Imps?" mutters Fuze's gunner, swivelling his turrent around. But Fuze is concentrating on the fight, her targetting computer dancing all around the A-wing without quite getting lock. As it comes screaming down behind her, she lets loose a blast in frustration, the laser cannons searing past the A-wing without ever standing a chance to hit. A rookie mistake, never fire until you have lock, and Fuze curses herself internally for it.
<<<Shit. Already?!>>> Gren curses over the Rebel Yell channel as Last Call shudders under the TIE gunner's nice shooting. Shields are still up, but they are much weaker, for sure. He hits his rudder pedal hard, and his engines flash as he hauls around to try to get a firing angle on the TIE that managed the hit. The red laser fire narrowly missing the target, and the former TIE Pilot is doing a bit more than cursing internally. <<<Watch out, Kel. Fuckers have gunners, now!>>>
Yanking back on his throttle, Kelnas pulls a bootlegger's drift in atmo with the Corvid as Gren calls his warning across the channel. hull plating groaning as the Wroonian swings around, he punches the throttle once more as he lines up on Fuze and touches off his cannons. <<Bit of Chin music to even the Score Gren. Got your back.>>
"Get ready for a Fel Flip," warns Slice to his gunner. And then the pilot does one of those dickbrained manuevers that takes advantage of the tricky TIE atmospheric handling. He pulls up sharply on the controls while cutting most of his throttle. A slight cut to the left uses the solar panel like an air brake. The sudden loss of speed has him suddenly behind the fast A-wing while the gunner swears. Ramming the throttle forward, Slice switches the turn to a barrel roll and takes aim at the A-swing with both barrels. Not one for taunting,he asks, "Aurek Leader, are you well?"
Fuze's TIE is rocked under the assault from the freighter, and underneath the helmet she's reddening in shame. Panels are lighting up in blinking red, and her gunner is fighting a small fire with a portable extinguisher as she spins the TIE on a dime and sents it darting after the A-wing as well, matching maneuver for maneuver. Her wingman, poor Cutie, doesn't take the braking turn so well and slides wide, losing contact with her leader. "Aurek Two, Aurek Leader, I'm fine," Fuze mutters, taking another shot at the fleeing A-wing.
Lining up on Fuze once again, Kelnas sets the cross hairs and reaches to touch off the cannons once more. hittign a pocket of turbulence at just the wrong time, his hand slips as he lurches forward and kills the engines. Plummeting like a stone, the Wroonian giggles as he ignites the engines once more his opportunity completely missed "Smooooth."
"Copy, Fuze. Trach, you ok?" asks Slice over the radio, taking a moment to scan for his wingman. And that moment is all that the A-wing needs. Twistingand turning, the A-wing scissors left and then flips in a twisting high speed yo-yo that the TIE cannot match. "I lost him," says Slice to the gunner as he cranes his head around frantically. "I found him," replies Razor, the gunner. He takes aim, leading the juking and jiving A-wing. And fires, scoring a direct hit on the middle of the fuselage. "That got him."
Watching through his binoculars, FL-5114 watches the TIEs take some bad hits, wincing sympathetically each time. Then the A-Wing is in trouble, and the freighter wobbles, missing terribly. Chewing on a gooey marshmallow, FL-5114 raises an eyebrow as one of the TIEs scores a big hit on the A-Wing. "YEAH!" Pumping his fist, he lowers the binocs briefly, trying to get a wider view of the action.
Seeing Slice is all over the crippled A-wing, Fuze jinks sideways and slips in a shot towards the freighter. She doesn't watch the laser bolts sizzle towards the presumed Resistance ship, shot-admiring is a good way to get yourself killed, but instead zigs and zags towards the two Z95s, as they pose the greatest threat right now. She's twisting and craning her neck all the time, looking for Cutie, trying to keep a lock on the enemy ships, her damaged TIE trailing a skein of oily gray smoke.
There is a huge shudder, and then explosions in Last Call's backend as one of the engines sputters, and shrieks. The A-wing becomes less fast, and much more rock-like. It was once the fastest thing on the planet, but now? It's falling toward its surface. Gren's hand hovers near the ejection lever, but he can't bring himself to punch out. "Oh, beautiful. You haven't failed me yet..." His voice is soft, and he is fighing the stick, trying to keep air under the control surfaces as he tears toward the jungle. <<<Kelnas. I'm going down. Going to try to find insurgents. Get out of here. Get help. Be safe.>>> And then he's disappearing into the canopy, hopefully to something less than a disastrously terrible landing. Maybe a nice bog to put the fires out. If he's lucky.
His eyes slowly widening within the helmet, FL-5114 can hardly believe what he's seeing. Watching the A-Wing streak out of the atmosphere, FL-5114 looks around in rapid-fire panic. Fire, supplies, food, radio... No time, radio! Picking it up, he scrambles up the ladder of the AT-ST, "Bayuir command, we've got a downed A-Wing in sector NC-7! FL-5114 moving to pursuit in armored cavalry." Climb climb climb! Ugh, all those hot dogs, left behind...
Still grinning for the moment, Kelnas takes aim on Fuze once more before the explosion distracts him. Eyes shifting to Gren Going down, the Wroonian sighs and his own ship is rocked by a blast. There's a moment of silence as Kelnas' lips move silently before he replies. <<Sorry Gren. Can't do it. Bert, Elchao...Run like Hell...make it home." with that, Kelnas shoves his controls forward and starts a long fast dive towards the planet. <<I'll try to clear you a path through the thicker foliage.>> Humor gone from his voice, the Wroonian reaches over and flips his comms off.
Slice's wingman cannot respond as he is now a rapidly expanding ball of debris and flame. While the other Z-95 and TIE are still mixing it up, the victorious Z-95 heads towards Slice, trying to keep him from finishing off either the A-wing or YT. "I cannot assist, Fuze. Engaged by Bandit," radios Slice as he twists and turns, seeking to get behind and beneath the Z-95 and firing, both himself and his gunner... The Freightorous Scum will get away!
Slamming the lid of the AT-ST shut, there's a brief pause of silence as nothing happens and FL-5114 is not seen... And then the servos begin to whirr and the turret head swivels about, followed shortly by the long, spindly legs. Stomping off across the terrain, the Scout Transport smashes debris and foliage under its feet as it heads in the direction of where the A-Wing broke through the canopy in the canyon down below. It'll be a long march, relatively speaking, even for the scout walker.
Fuze is getting into her zone. She whips the TIE into a nauseatingly high-G turn, her suit doing its business to keep her from blacking out or redding out, and her thumbs slide over the firing stud. There! "Got it!" she crows to her gunner as the bolts satisfyingly hit the Z-95. But then comes Cutie, trying her best to keep up with her Squadron Leader, taking the 'stick to me like glue' instruction to heart. The rookie slides nearer even as Fuze tries to settle the freighter once and for all, but as she lines up for another shot her gunner yells, "Friendly on your six, skipper, she's too close!" and Fuze has to break sharp right to avoid being rear-ended by the overenthusiastic youngster.
Slice takes a chunk out of the Z-95 but not enough to disable it as it makes for space. He stands no chance of catching it or the freighter. Instead, he cuts his craft over to form up on the damaged craft Fuze is flying. "At least we got the moutny one, Fuze."
"OK, circle round, drop a beacon, and let's head back," Fuze advises regretfully, "We're running low on fuel. Good work, all of you." She means it, she's proud of them, even if QT's piloting leaves a lot to be desired.
