Log:First Order: Rain and Wind

Rhona rescues Fuze!

OOC Date: October 30, 2016 (Optional)
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Fuze, FN-4126, First Order

Rain and wind. The elemental forces lash at Rhona as she crouches on a walkway above one of the concrete canyons in the underbelly of the city. She's leading a squad of five other Stormtroopers, most of whom seem somewhat unhappy at being here as the microclimate wind roars through the city and the rain seeps into the chinks in their armor.

The mission orders were terse, to say the least. A Resistance cell had been identified in a residential building, seventy-four floors up. Rhona's the backup; another squad was to breach and eliminate the Resistance scum, while a couple of TIEs provided air support. Now Rhona's team are a hundred yards from the target apartment, down the walkway, and the other fire team are stacking up by the doorway while the two TIEs bob unsteadily in the howling winds, one barely visible through the driving rain, the other near Rhona. FZ-4792 is one of the pilots, she was at the briefing and gave her friend/lover an impish smile as they filed out towards the muster area, but is she the pilot nearby? Certainly the black-clad figure in the cockpit lifted a hand in grave greeting. All they're waiting for now is the Squad Leader of the strike team to give the word.

Damp and distracted, Rhona isn't so blind as to miss the wave from the pilot of the bobbing TIE. She has her few troopers scattered along the rails of the walkway, taking what little cover is available. She's farthest forward, crouched behind a lamp post, watching the first team prepare to proverbially kick in the door and go in howling. The macroscope on her blaster is tool enough for a good look at the action, her quadnoculars being too bulky for fighting in such quarters.

The uncomfortable troopers, growing impatient, sneak pulls at their armor to get damp undersuit fabric away from their skin, even for just a moment. Rhona can't, of course, trying to set an example for her troops. So she ignores the misery and waits for the call.

That's not to say that she's not trying to cover bases, though. "Tango Two-Six to Hawkbat Actual: Any sign of movement inside? All's quiet down here."

The voice in Rhona's ear crackles, "Tango..." That's as far as it gets, because at that moment there's a brilliant flash ahead, blossoming into yellow and crimson flame. The walkway that the strike team are on erupts up, a section thirty yards long buckling and fragmenting, flinging Stormtroopers up, limbs flailing, to fall screaming into the abyss below amongst the fragments of concrete walkway. A moment later, even as Rhona's team is registering that, blaster bolts sear from the opposite sides of the concrete canyon, and from the same side higher up; heavy guns targetting the two hovering TIEs. The far TIE simply explodes, caught square on by three blasts near-simultaneously, but the near TIE is already pulling away from the first explosion. Nevertheless, the damage is severe; one of the 'wings' is ripped off and the fighter goes into a spin, nearly vertically down. In Rhona's earpiece comes Fuze's voice, stressed beyond belief, "Aurek One going down..." And then there's an obscenity, very unlike Fuze. Far below the TIE bounces off the canyon wall, losing the other wing, and then tangles in a skein of cabling strung across between buildings. ANd there it dangles, some of the severed cables sparking and sputtering, twenty floors below Rhona and at least fifty floors above the hard ground below. Fuze's voice comes faint, "Aurek One..." And then just static. There is no more heavy blaster fire, though, maybe the guns can't depress enough to fire down that far.

Rhona, closest, flings up an arm to protect her vision, though the optics in her helmet are already compensating. She quickly gestures her own troops to cover, out of the scarlet rain of blaster fire. The only place is back the way they came, and they head that way. "Tango Actual, Tango Two-Six: Ambush ambush ambush! Tango Actual, Tango Two-Six repeating: Ambush ambush ambush! Aurek Two is KIA, Aurek One down and dark! Tango One is down, likely KIA! Two-Six is pulling back; we won't take three entire buildings with only five of us!"

Finally pausing inside the lobby of an evacuated apartment building they'd been considering using as a staging point once this mission was over. Thankfully, there's no one here to shoot at them. Three of the troopers collapse to the floor, looking back the way they came. One stays near the door to keep watch.

Rhona, on the other hand, is considering the problem of a fallen TIE tangled in cabling, fifty stories above the concrete canyon floor. "Judd, Frag, come with me," she says at last, speaking to JD-2266 and FG-7823. "Bring your line-throwers and liquid cable dispensers. We've got a pilot to rescue."

The two Stormtroopers move quickly with "Yes m'ams" apiece, not envying the fifty-story stairwell descent in front of them (but better than an ascent, right?) Rhona's earpiece crackles faintly, it sounds like Fuze's voice but the words are indistinguishable from the static. Inside the building it is grim; mould grows and glows faintly luminescently on the walls, light-tubes flicker fitfully, puddles of unidentifiable liquid ripple as the Stormtroopers' boots splash through them, and there is a rich stench in the air only barely mitigated by the armor's filters. Then Rhona's earpiece erupts with traffic from the base: "Tango Two-Six, Tango Actual. You are to pull back." The order is crisp and unemotional, uncaring. "Report back to Ziro base as soon as possible."

"Copy, Actual," Rhona replies. "Aurek One is within reach. Will be en route after retrieving Lieutenant FZ-4792."

She steps into the stairwell, committed to leading since this whole jaunt is her own idea. "Check your corners. Our last stop can't be the only place the Resistance is hiding on this miserable moon." Weapon ready, she begins the descent.

"Negative, <crackle>-Six. Return...<crackle>...base" Here in the cavernous building, though, the orders come through indistinct, and Judd and Frag glance uncertainly at each other and at Rhona for clarification. And then there's another voice, clearer: "FN-4126, FN-9980." Her communications officer, left up in the muster area; she advises, "Better listen out on 1173.98." One of the public channels. Should Rhona tune in to that frequency, she'll hear a voice with a broad Corellian accent: "...north stairwell. Somewhere around floor 22. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel." The north stairwell. Rhona and her men are in the south stairwell, most likely.

"Actual, your signal is breaking up," Rhona calls, knowing it's unlikely to get through intact. Which only backs up her own alibi of signal issues.

"Copy, Fan," she replies to her friend, nodding habitually though Fan can't see it. "Dry out yourselves and your armor while you can. We'll try to hurry."

She glances back at Frag and Judd. "Stay sharp. We just got into a race against time. Resistance coming from the other way. Triple-time it!" She breaks into a quick jog, wincing at the rattling of armor. The Resistance will likely hear them coming half the building away!

As they run down the stairwell, staying fast is tricky. The concrete steps are slick, greasy, crumbling, and it will only take a misstep to crash down one of the intermediate flights. They pass some of the miserable residents; a Chiss, watching them impassively with glowing red eyes, turning to a comm as they pass; a couple of Gamorreans, snuffling an interrogative question that may or may not be aimed at Rhona; a human female, her face covered in sores, begging pitifully in a corner, averting her eyes as they hustle past. The floors are decreasing steadily; 60. 55. 50. They pass a spraypainted logo indicating in colorful obscenities what the First Order can do with themselves.

"Take your own advice, palsie," Rhona mutters, noticing the graffiti and ignoring the local population. Her heartstrings are stretching, but there's still the mission to consider. Even aliens shouldn't have to live in filth like this.

Pausing at the door to the proper floor, she gestures a halt, then carefully cracks it to peek inside, weapon ready. If she doesn't see anything, she'll dash for the site of the tangled TIE.

It was a tossup as to which floor she arrived on. She picked just about right, and as she emerges onto the balcony she spots the TIE, half a floor below. The wings are gone, and one of the wing struts has tangled in the high-voltage cabling that still sparks fitfully. It's about thirty feet off the building, swaying in the wind, plastered with rain. The cockpit is shattered, but there are two figures inside, moving about. But then come shouts from the balcony below, out of sight from Rhona's balcony: "There it is!" A triumphant whoop, and a blaster bolt sears out, hitting the TIE relatively harmlessly. Someone on the Resistance side is premature, for Fuze and her gunner return fire with their sidearms, pewpewpew, and there are shouts of anger from the balcony below. "Aim for the cables!" comes a shout. The intent is clear; the TIE will turn into a pendulum which will smash against the far wall of the concrete canyon.

That thought has occurred to Rhona as well. She leans over the edge of the balcony, catching sight of the source of all that firing. It's not easy to see, but with a little luck and a lot of English...

She pulls out a grenade and arms it with a triple-press of its toggle. "See you in Hell, Resistance scum," she mutters, cooking the grenade, and expertly flips it onto the balcony below.

After all, what are they going to do? Jump off?

A woman's voice shrills from below, "Grenade!" And then flame billows out, a couple of bodies hurled over the parapet to fall, one screaming shrilly, into the abyss below. There's no more firing from the balcony below, just someone screaming pitifully, over and over again. Then Fuze's voice, still broken but loud, "Tango Two-Six, Aurek One, if that's you you're a sight for sore eyes." No sooner has the transmission ceased but Fan is speaking: "Be advised, traffic suggests you're going to have more unfriendlies imminently, something about an X-wing..."

"This is Tango Two-Six, Aurek One, here to get you to stop hanging around and get out of here," Rhona replies wryly... and her blood freezes at the sound of Fan's voice. "Copy, Fan," she adds quickly. "Will expedite."

She pulls out her own line-thrower, gesturing to Judd to get her own. "Land yours about three feet below mine, Judd. We'll make a half-bridge," she directs, mounting the magnetic harpoon head and triggering the thrower, sending a line flying out to latch onto the dark gray hull of the wrecked fighter, near the hatch. "Aurek One, we're about to get very popular again. Sitrep on condition of yourself and crew. Will be over to assist," she says, anchoring the line to the side of the building next to the balcony.

Fuze and her gunner start kicking out the cockpit windows, heavy boots thudding into the already-shattered perspex until it levers out, fragments of the windows sprinkling down into the chasm. Judd's harpoon impacts in the indicated area, holding fast. And then the whole ship lurches, because one of the cables, stressed by the weight of the TIE, parts, snaking away down below. Now there are only two cables supporting it, way beyond their design. Fuze's voice crackles, "We're good. Banged up but good."

"Frell!" Rhona doesn't hesitate: She's on the lines and making her way across to the fighter to assist the two fliers. She offers her hand to one of them, unable to tell which is which in the flight gear and the poor lighting. "Hurry! Just set your feet on the lower one and hold the upper, and slide-step across!"

The first, a woman, struggles onto the lines. On inspection it's not Fuze, skinnier; her gunner. She slithers across without incident, Judd pulling her up and over the concrete parapet without ceremony, like she was just a sack of tubers. And then there's Fuze. She rips off her bulbous helmet to reveal Fuze's brown face, stressed but relieved, the rain plastering her hair down. "Thanks," she smiles, a flash of white teeth. From where Rhona is braced on the satellite, she can see the lower balcony, scattered with limp and still-twitching forms. No sign of the X-wing yet, though, but it can't be far.

Rhona steadies the gunner, drawing back just a little so her passage will be a little easier. There's an awkward moment when one has to climb past the other, but it's over quickly.

And then Fuze is climbing up. "It's nothing," Rhona replies, her own smile hidden behind her helmet. "Hurry up. You /really/ don't want to know how disgusting wet armor feels," she adds, steadying the smaller woman as she gets set.

Again they're pressed together, and then she's shuffling past. There's one terrible moment when the penultimate power cable snaps, disappearing away in a shower of sparks, and the TIE lurches and Fuze looses her footing; she dangles, but with Rhona's help scrambles up again onto the line. She's almost there, reaching for Judd's outstretched arm, when the X-wing appears, S-foils in attack position, positioning for a strafing run.

Rhona, still a little shaken by the close call, doesn't see the X-wing immediately. But she does see it. "Go!" she shouts, catching hold of Fuze's belt and heaving up and forward (for Fuze) to get her clear of the rapidly-developing Bad Scene.

Now there's the question of whether or not /she'll/ get over the rail in time. She reaches for the balcony railing, having a distinctly bad feeling about the X-Wing's first target. Another second and there are likely to be no lines underneath her...

Fuze lunges out, both hands grabbing for Rhona's wrists, hauling. After it's all over, it will emerge that both Judd and Frag both had to grab for Fuze's legs to stop her falling head first over the parapet, but for a moment there it seemed like they were both falling. Then Rhona is heaved up and over the concrete, and a moment later the TIE explodes with a thunderous roar as the first bolts from the X-wing hit it. An electrical cable recoils, the tension released, and whips across the balcony to strike Frag in the chest, slamming him into the wall. Judd's on him: "We need to get off this balcony," he yells. But right now Rhona's atop Fuze, Fuze's arms around Rhona, her eyes wide as she looks up into the helmet of her savior.

A lunge, a grab, a heave and a frantic scramble later, Rhona is on the floor of the balcony. On top of Fuze. In Fuze's arms.

The whole mess just became totally worth it. She gives the pilot's shoulder a quick, affectionate squeeze, the only gesture she can afford under so many eyes, and scrambles to her feet, helping Fuze up. "Frag's right. Judd, lead off for the stairwell. I'll cover the rear," she says quickly, not sure there aren't more Resistance in this building. "I doubt that X-Wing will keep us waiting long for its next pass!"

Judd and the gunner are helping Frag into the stairwell, Judd's blaster firing as a figure appears in the stairwell; maybe the man was Resistance, maybe he was just an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time, but nobody is really innocent on Nar Shaddaa, right? Fuze turns, maybe trying for a last look at the X-wing, but then Rhona is hustling her back off the balcony as the X-wing turns out of sight behind a corner of the building. No time for affection, no time for words, just hustling down to an extraction point so many floors below. And not before time; Fan is keeping her appraised in short, terse updates of increased Resistance radio traffic. But they make the extraction location without further bloodshed, and soon they're climbing into a shuttle to return to base, the shuttle under close TIE escort. Fuze has a few words with her gunner, sitting beside her with her arm around the young woman's shoulders; the gunner's being checked out by a medic. But Fuze's brown eyes are on Rhona virtually the entire flight back to base.

No time for anything but a quick trip down to street level, more than twice as many floors as they covered just to get here the first time. Everyone is feeling the strain as they reach the dustoff site. But it's only a few steps to get onto the shuttle and get out of here.

Rhona collapses into a seat, exhausted. "Tango Actual, this is Two-Six. Aurek One's crew is secure. Repeat, Aurek One is safe, sans fighter. Returning to base as ordered."

She leans back, pulling off her helmet and holding it limply by her side. But she catches sight of Fuze's eyes on her. She manages a faint, tired, but triumphant smile, full of warmth. It only lasts a second, but that's long enough.