Log:Mandalorians: Just Need to Borrow This
Mandalorians: Just Need to Borrow This
OOC Date: January 11, 2022
Location: Deep Space Near Naboo
Participants: Valeska Jaivon, Dailo Fett, Zevin Daodhri, Hapvarnna and Hadrix Kora as GM Clan Kora
IFF transponder scramblers in place, just in case, and then unplugged unless absolutely necessary. Another glorious day in the corps. The Mandalorian Fighting Corps, at least. No Beskar today, nothing to suggest that Mandalorians are doing this little operation as the assault crew stands loaded up in the Razor crest belonging to one Hapvarnna hovering just outside of sensor ranges for the Naboo system. Maneuvering to precise coordinates in open void. From the dark side of one of Naboo's moons, the Woor'tra is keeping itself blocked from the main world; to hide from sight and to conceal the signal they'd sent out to let the Lone Zakkeg know the trajectory of the convoy several minutes ago.
"Some sort of luck must exist, since Ori'Hap got his hands on this old transport..." the Mandalmotors craft had been selected for three reasons. Enough room for the boarding crew, the docking hatch on the ventral side and it'd been purchased in Hutt Space; so it couldn't be directly linked to any of the clans despite its pre-Imperial make. "We're pirates today, but we're nice pirates." the helmet of the powered armor custom fitted to the big man's bulk was open and a cigarra was in his teeth, "Since the Republic has decided to shake hands and kiss with the First Order they've started trading too." derision thick in the big man's deep-core accented growl, "So we're using their trade routes to get what we want from Fondor. We've a little something that's going to be pulling the last of a convoy out of hyperspace, a one shot jammer, too, to keep them from alerting and we're going in on a iviin'yc jurkad" quick strike.
Outside the ship, a spherical object, painted matte black, hovers and within a timer is slowly pulsing its countdown.
"Straightforward enough." Zevin is doing one last gear check. Fire shoots from the JT-12 jetpack he has strapped on over Void Armor. He checks the power pack and safety on his SoroSuub pistol before returning it to its holster. He already disassembled, cleaned, and put the slugthrower to rest in a bandolier holster during the flight over.
"'cept for the tech 'at's makin' it possible in the firs' place. No magic, no op. But reckon that-" He fires up the riot baton, and it slides down the rail. "-ain't-" The electricity begins to arc down multiple surfaces. "-my-" He pushes his arm out and in, making the baton swing about in a circle once. "-problem."
Valeska is starting to get used to being in foreign armour. Almost like a beetle with various shells and while she is most intimate with her crimson beauty, this borrowed Republic Clone Trooper armour will have to suffice. Pity there were no times to gussy it up a bit. Khalim wouldn't mind, right? Right.
One leg rests on the knee of the other, booted foot kicking a bit as the black-haired mercenary sips hot caff from a thermos easy-as-you-please. "Nice pirates? Can't say I've ever met a nice pirate, yeah? What are they like?" Twisting the cap back on and setting it aside, Valeska leans over to dig around in the duffle at her feet. "You mean non-lethal? I got a wicked stun baton I've been itching to try."
Said baton makes its official debut in her hands, tossed half an inch above her palm and caught again to test the weight. "Not as good at it as I am the blades and blasters and whathaveyou, yeah? Your call, vod."
As music played, filling the absence of action, and Hadrix briefed, Dailo Fett stood by a view port looking outside the vessel and into the void. She had a neutral expression, thoughtful even, yet said nothing to add onto the summary of events that lay before them. She keeps her hands busy by tying up her hair, orienting it into a tail by using a tie she kept on her wrist. Her strands are pulled tight, leaving the back of her neck and space around her youthful face free from the tickle of hair.
Her attire is a common set of armor, mercenary/civilian grade duraplast painted green and other earthly tones, and she carries a small collection of weapons, to include a mid-ranged carbine. With her hands free from fixing her hair, she turns back to the group, listening to their questions while pulling on a pair of gloves, testing their tension with the soft -tcktcktck- sound pulling back on them creates.
"AND HE DID SAY, 'Seek Dread, Orrr-rrr-rrri'Hapvarnnaaaa!' Peeking into Daark'a, to see, to listen! To find, The Song." Those upon the Lone Zakkeg are privy to the interior which has become decorated by a plethora of bones, skins, claws - a growing wall of skulls. There at the end, the gleaming Dreadfinder Armor of Mandalore with its great horns for the Togruta. Beads. Teeth. It sits, lit up by small embers of burning incense, like some Totem of War.
Ori'Hapvarnna however, is putting on freshly painted Stormtrooper Armor. Gleaming, shining WHITE. That candy cane stripe. Skulls painted on the trim. "WE BE THEY! Thieves, Rrrrapists, Marauderrrrs! Sh'ka! We who thrrrr-rrr-rrrive in Daark'a. We who leave Suun's Light!" A grinder sounds off, sparks beginning to fly and rain down on some of the others as the Togruta - yes - is modifying the helm to the Stormtrooper armor. Cutting into it to fit his lek, and montral.
"Non-lethality was agreed on by Gor and myself. These poor sots are just doing their job." Smoke wreathing Hadrix's head as he speaks, the ember of the cigarra glowing merrily. Sparks shooting against his armor turning the big man's head momentarily, "We're almost there, 'lek?" yeah?
An alert sounds within the ship, gravity well alerts and a momentary burst of static from communications before the craft lurches with sudden movement, outside a single BFF-1 Bulk Freighter hangs in space with figures on board trying to get a message out that they've fallen out of hyperspace.
<"Bringing us in now, be ready to board"> Mir's voice over comms, the Razor Crest speeding across the distance, with the old Mandalorian resisting the urge to soften it up some, no need to deal with unneeded questions later, cutting thrust and sailing over the cargo containers meant for the First Order to bring the ship down with a heavy CLANG against the surface of the bulk craft.
"We get in, knock out or stun anyone you find. Mir will undock us as soon as we have control and then we're playing convoy crew to Fondor. Don't expect much from them, but we have to be fast to keep them from finding a way past the jammers, otherwise this will get a lot less pleasant." despite the rocks and ice voice, the Coruscanti lilt of the man still manages to hit certain notes, as if he were planning for a soiree later.
Hissing and more bass thumps follow signaling the docking clamps locking in place and the floor hatch of the ship is opened to reveal the dorsal hatch of the cargo craft and Gripper descends to plug into a droid access slot, humming to herself while the clicks and whirs preempt the hiss of the way opening and Hadrix points down, cigarra spit down the hole and his armor coming to life, panels extending and the suits helmet 'assembling' itself around his head, <"In and hit them hard!">
When the port opens, Zevin jumps straight down. Just before the deck of the freighter can give an unpleasant wake up call to his feet, the nozzles of his jet pack flare brightly, and he lands with a slight weave to his step, mostly steady. Staring at him when he lands are a crewman with a tool in their hand and two marines. <"Sorry, boys and girls."> And he stabs the riot baton into one of the marines, who shakes before falling to the ground when he pulls the baton back. <"But 'is is how it's gotta be."> He pushes forward and the to side of the corridor to make room for those following him.
Another tiny toss of the baton in her hand -- even a no-frills little flip in the air for good measure -- Valeska brings the newest tool in her small arsenal to life and rises, literally, to the occassion. Grabbing the too-plain-to-be-fun helmet, the bucket clamps over her hand and clicks into place. It's a bit too big for her -- of course it is. It's not tailored to fit her, but she'll make do.
A flourish of her hand towards Zevin accompanies a: <"Lead the way, vod."> before she follows the man into the floor hatch. Forgoing the jetpack for a lower profile and a fraction more dexterity, Valeska discovers she has let gravity get ahead of her in the game.
Valeska hits the deck hard. Too hard. Her knees buckle and she drops to one with a grunt: a string of curse words in Bothese and something about 'How does she make it look easy?' among them as Valeska staggers to her feet.
Dailo Fett follows the other Mando'ade, jumping and landing with practiced grace. She bends at the knees, suddenly more aware of how much lighter this armor was compared to the beskar'gam. It leaves a smirk on her face as she turns, firing haphazardly down the corridor with a hammered-pair of stun rings. They do not find their mark, but the idea was to press the crew and Marines back, or at least encourage them to keep their heads down until the Mandos find cover, or take the crew's cover after incapacitating them. Dailo stays silent through this process, and staying back to operate as a mid-ranged combatant.
While the rest jump, and leap, and rocket, and hop off the Razor Crest -- Hapvarnna sets that transformed Stormtrooper helm on his head. <"Oh! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!"> It is. The edges are. They're still orange from the cutting-wheel, and the smell of sizzling skin enters the air for a moment - before he whips up the Stun Net and watches the others.
<"Tsk! Tsk. Tsk. No, no. We do not jump today, no. Nay. Kings of Pirates do not jump. No."> Instead, Hapvarnna marches from the Lone Zakkeg, rifle leaning on his shoulder, and looking around, a tug on the Sandpanther Bandolier around his torso to ensure all the grenades are tinkling lightly - like warning bells.
Hitting the deck with a sonorous boom in the wake of Hapvarnna clearing, the motion assist servos in the big man's armor hum and whine as he stands, hand lifting and pointing a -curious- looking weapon. The ships crew, hefting an adjustable spanner calls out, shocked with the fall of one of the naval marines being battered down by Zevin's shock paddle - but instinct takes him towards the one shooting - swinging wildly and forcing the aim of the other with him still standing to fire wildly to one side to avoid striking a crewer.
Just in time for a syringe like dart to FFWIIT across a short distance to sink into his neck, putting a dozy sort of expression on their features that forms from initial surprise and Hadrix draws a slide on the weapon to chamber another.
<"We may need to split up, crew area and bridge."> blinking through his HUD commands and muttering at how much more simple it is compared to all the niceties of his usual equipment. No other enemies appear yet, but yellow alarm lights begin to flash and a klaxon starts to sound. No <"We won't have comms."> the jammer is still active.
The front line is supposed to prevent the back line from being reached. That is the whole point. So when a crewer hauls off at Dailo with a tool, <"'ey! 'EY!"> A one-handed downwards chop sends the crewman down. There's a whirring vmmmm sound as he disengages the handle-lock and sends baton whirling about to hit the side of the remaining marine in this corridor. <"Supposed to hit at me, and be distracted."> His words are a mutter as he turns and starts walking away from the front of the ship. <"Headin' to crew quarters. Good luck on the bridge, y'all."> He's not running, but he's power-walking. Time is limited for this radio blackout.
Valeska is still rubbing at a kneecap while the remaining crew is granted some downtime: effective immediately. <"Argh... seriously? I think this place is using to gravity generators or something, yeah?"> Of course Hadrix's prefect, effortless landing next to her is not missed and the Clone Trooper helmet tilts in his direction. <"Show off.">
Adjusting the grip on her stun baton, Valeska clicks a button with her thumb to disengage the furious, sparking blue crackles that evenlope the whoopin' end. A quick scan of the immediate area is given a silent 'all clear' in her head and she gestures to the others. <"Heading to the bridge."> And off she goes as a steady, quickened pace.
Dailo is forced to avoid certain pain from a wrench which clangs against the bulkhead, making her ears ring. Before she can even retaliate, Zevin has reclaimed dominance through a bit of violence of action. His effort ensures Dailo has to do nothing, and she smiles after witnessing the efficiency of his strike. A subtle nod, and an accented voice says, "Thanks, warrior."
Looking to Commander Hadrix, Dailo makes a subtle head-nod in the direction of Val as if to convey she was going with her. She turns to follow, informing Valeska, "I am with you," and if observed, Fett would be walking briskly after Kora, EE-3 still held with both hands and oriented at a low-ready as to not flag Val with the muzzle.
<"Copy. Ships intercoms should be hardwired, use 'em if you have to while the jammng field is up."> Nodding to Dailo in agreement with her direction choice, Hadrix's movement speaks of the trust he has with leaving Valeska alone with Fett, his own stun baton pulled with his left hand and swung to life before being tucked back en route to wandering aft and letting Ladies Night forward begin.
Passing into crew country it's clear that -someone- is likely using the Commander's advice, because the small lounge has been reinforced with tumbled over shelves and boxes providing impromptu cover. Cover enough that it's not immediately clear where the blaster bolts come from when they lance out in a short range fusillade for Hapvarnna and Zevin. Several voices call out, jeers and challenges as they open up.
In the corridor just outside the bridge, Dailo's awareness catches sight of a shadow from around a corner, a shifting that is enough to tip her off shortly before the sounds of blasterfire being turned on the other to abaft of their present location. So a party has already started our back and now there is soon to be another when Dailo or Valeska decide to kick it off.
Some of those blaster shots are far too close for comfort, but Zevin didn't expect this to be comfortable. He dashes towards the first bit of cover he saw a blaster bolt come from, jetpack roaring, nozzles sending him up just a bit as his steps proceed off the floor, wallrunning just over the top of the shelf hiding the marine, gravity and weight behind the stun baton as he stabs it downwards rather than swinging it. He keeps moving forward, even though the room isn't cleared, swinging baton up to knock the blaster out of the hand of one of the crew members before spinning to give momentum and blasting the crew-woman off her feet with a sound of staticky electricity.
<"Won't give 'em time to set up more,"> he announces to Hadrix and Hapvarnna as he heads out further past the crew ounge.
There could be any number of reasons why Valeska is off her game today. Could be the odd-fitting armour. It could be the unfamiliar ship. It could even be the subconscious knowledge that she is attacking New Republic people. Regardless of the reason, it didn't matter because if it wasn't for Dailo, Valeska was about to walk right into a quartet of targets and that simply won't do.
<"Thanks,"> she says quietly to Dailo soon after being signaled to stop because... you know... there are /people/ right there. Trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head, Valeska grips the stun baton tighter and takes in what she thinks is a calming breath before literally rolling around the corner and swinging for the nearest Republic private's head.
To her shock -- shock! -- the Private is no slouch and his instincts catch her in mid-swing; his own arm coming up to block the arc with the crackling electricity inches from his precious noggin. In this suspended moment in time, Valeska is wide open and halted.
Dailo does catch sight of trouble lurking ahead, and a subtle signal, and another pair of shots, render two stunned soldiers to the deck with a loud clatter. Valeska's thanks is met with a succinct nod, and Dailo raises her carbine up as if to signal she was ready to proceed further. She stays close to the Kora member, watching her back like she expected in return; this is the way.
Shouldering the carbine, Dailo pies slowly, eyes immersed with her optics and ahead so she might make quick adjustments if they spring to action!
Hadrix may have made the mistaken of dictating they were to play the role of Pirates, to the Togruta, who shows no kind of mercy to those they come across. The blaster bolt strikes him in the upper-torso, and it sears his skin, but instead of raging or crying out? The Horned-One just turns that head towards the crew, and without a word, pulls free one of the Cryoban grenades. He twists the pop-cap, and despite the cries of the men inside?
Throws it.
The detonation is almost immediate, so the heat-sucking explosion of chemicals occurs in mid-air. Drinks shatter, Fizzlepop machines erupt and circuitry sparks as the heat is - quite literally - sucked away. The terror-weapon deployed leaves skin frostbitten in places, eyes sealed.
Because Hapvarnna has seen real pirates before, and what is he to do, save be the best pirate he can be For Family. The stun-net rifle is held at his shoulder again, a tap to his wounded chest and a 'brushing' gesture.
Hearing the sudden [ansi(#AFFFD7,HWOHP) and prolonged hiss down the corridor, Hadrix shakes his head; hoping he doesn't find corpses. Plodding onward, headed for the engineering area and tapping an intercom button to lean in briefly, broadcasting to the ship,
<<"If you throw down your weapons, lay on the deck and put your hands behinds your heads it'll go much more pleasantly for you.">> pausing long enough to listen for a grizzled woman's voice from the bridge answer over the same PA,
<<"Go farkle yourself, you stanging nerf-rekker. This is a Republic ship! You're going to Kessel if you're lucky! I hope they break it off up your--">> another button press from Hadrix sending a feedback loop to cut off the last of that with his head jerked back slightly.
"Huh..." speaking with his externals keyed off for the moment, "Little unnecessary..." shrugging as he continues on his way, affecting a 'swashbuckling swagger' as he goes.
In the crew section of the craft, the main lounge cleared it leaves only the collective bunk room; there are more - though these fail to get the jump as those in the lounge had before. They call out, shocked, at the sight of invaders and the one in crew covers actually has the guts to call out to them,
"Throw down your weapons and we'll have you taken to Naboo for arrest!" theoretically a really lovely offer. For imprisonment in a lovely jail, on a lovely planet. Absolutely lovely.
In the forward section with two Republic troopers back pedaling to get out of range of Valeska's strike and potential room to dodge the Blue Rings of Sleep when they're expected to come; right in time for a grizzled looking bothan in NCO stripes to step out into the corridor and issue a muzzled sneer for Dailo, sharp teeth bared and eyes narrowed.
<"Y'got this all wrong. Ship's ours now."> The crew member gets an electric shock to the face in addition to the force of a punch. These side-grips are really useful for maintaining that kind of momentum. Then he blurs past one marine, driving him back and into the far wall with some precision propulsion from the jet nozzles.
As the marine sinks down, he gets a perfunctory smash in the chest with the Z6 baton to ensure he's really down for the count. <"You already lost, you know,"> he tells the remaining marine, doing his best to keep the man's attention here at the back of the room as he drops behind a bed for cover. <"Your best was never gonna be good enough.">
That moment in time -- that frozen slice of now -- pops like a combustion tank and the world is all shifting in a blur of motion again. Valeska and her impromptu dance partner jump back from each other in unison, a blaster shot burning the air for a flash then making purchase deep, deep into Valeska's left shoulder.
The force of the hit spins her a quarter turn, and she tries to use the momentum to swing the baton in her right hand around again in simultaneous retaliation. The sound of an electrified WHIFF swipes horizontally through the air as Hadrix's familiar voice crackles overhead.
And also the retort of the ship's captain. Staggering in pain, Valeska grunts. <"Well, she sounds like fun.">
Dailo holds her ground as the snarling, hair flairing Bothan comes into view. She's unnerved by the appearance and releases another pair of stun waves. She manages to hit the Sergeant in the process, but he's /quick/ and she has to side step to advance, rather than retreat. She could hear her father's voice in her head, coaching on never giving up ground. So she didn't.
The Stun-Net Rifle is held like some kind of extension of himself, but the Horned-One has mostly been quiet. He's not charging ahead, but rather moving slowly, carefully, at the sight of the Crew being taken down by his comrade, that Marine nearby is fired at - the net whistling outwards before striking a wall, where the micro-servos rapidly activate and crunch drywall. Breath, after breath is taken, loudly even, with comms active so it can be heard. Vader-like. Quickly, Hapvarnna begins to reload the rifle after his miss.
The lone standing member of the crew is scuttling away from where the net barely passed and is now damaging the ships interior, pistol raised and opening fire on Zevin, the closest foe standing over the bodies of the fallen. Eyes wide, the Rodian's snout a wide, floppy, O while he scoots backwards, trying to find cover and put distance between himself and the invaders.
"Rekk you! REKK YOU!" defiant, at least, in these moments.
The firefight in the corridor outside the bridge continues, close quarters where nerves and cortisol is surging - making hands shake and point blank ranges become kilometers. But they keep firing, even the wounded NCO whose fur crackles with ionized particles and jumps like blue lightning between his teeth and whiskers.
"Captain!?"
"WE'RE STILL JAMMED!" the answer from the cockpit while the ship continues to drift.
Abaft, a young woman with a screwdriver in one hand and a service blaster in the other pokes her head out, only to take a dart dead center of her chest, pinning her coverall inward and making it a formfitting garb while she drops to the deck, eyes rolling back as she passes out,
"Space, Had..." <"What?"> "Right there?" <"I was aiming for her stomach, I've never used this before."> "You don't shoot a lady -there-..."
Everyone's a critic.
'Rekk you'? Zevin does not dignify the Rodian's defiance with a response. He starts walking towards the front exit, unlocking the baton to gain some force with a side to side wobble before smacking into the Rodian's chest in passing, electricity passing out and into the poor marine as he hits the deck. He doesn't change his pace.
Not until he starts hearing the blaster fire better, now that their own battles are over. He looks at Hapvarnna. <"Doesn't sound good, does it? Double-time it."> He starts jogging back through the battlefields they've already won - past the bunks, through the crew lounge- and hangs a right to be heading bridgeward, slowing down to watch for errant blaster fire.
Oh, she's going to have words for a Mr. Khalim Nell when she gets back to Nar Shaddaa. DUCK! Lending her armour that's a size too big. DODGE! And very clearly cursed by some forsaken ugnaught or something. SIDESTEP!
The mental chewing-out continues as Valeska moves with as much speed and flexibility she can muster in the haunted armour, slipping past the two Privates who are operating way, way beyond their paygrade. A jerk of her wrist cranks the stun baton to full blast as Valeska storms up to the Sergeant guarding the hatch leading to the bridge; pain and rage burning in her eyes. A pity he can't see it beyond the visor.
But the Sergeant can definitely /feel/ it as Valeska's hooks her foot around the back of his knee, forcing it to buckle and teetering him off-balance. As he staggers forward, the stun baton SLAMS down across the back of his shoulders right where the neck meets the torso. The rest is darkness for him.
Well, there's a dynamic switch as the Sergeant is taken out and Dailo has to adjust her aim. Drawing in a sharp breath, she jerks to aim toward the privates attacking them. Both shots miss, they were too close to engage and each movement they made required an extra effort from Dailo to track them.
She resolves herself to fight in close quarters at that point and slings the weapon to her side, raising her fists instead. They wanted to fight, She'd show them how to fight. Maybe. They were proving pretty formidable so far!!
Hapvarnna watches as Zevin leaves, but his eyes are turning upon those they pass. Men, left frozen in their tracks by lightning and force - or chemical ice. The colored Stormtrooper moves with that same, exagerrated gait favoring his leg (and not his actual false leg), but when he moves close enough to Zevin there comes that voice again. <"Inform them their men have been put down by a WW-41 Cryoban Grenade, and that t'ey very likely have only a little time left."> A pause, <"You're good with t'em humans, hm? Make t'em believe you."> Because Ori'Hapvarnna slides the net gun back at on its rear-holster, and pulls free two more of those terrible grenades. There's even a little 'giggle' sent over the comms, as Happy Pirate reaches the end of his tactical argument with himself.
<"Gripper."> "On it." the little droid is moving, still muttering about where people were shot when her droid probe extends and the whirring and clicks ensue with the rotation of panels. Hadrix at least pulling the dart out so that won't be a pain for the waking hours.
Passage from the crew region is, thankfully, unobstructed; though blaster fire continues - the sarge is down and the way to the bridge is, unfortunately, clear for Valeska when the hatch itself opens and the iron haired woman who stands in the doorway looks shocked and furious to find no protection there to shield her. Blaster raised, but not fast enough to pull the trigger. Just a twitch of still lively green eyes and a sneer twisting a face that likely would have been the target of spacer-bar cat calls in years past.
<"How long?"> "Almost there, shush. I'm working." the top half of her body turning and shooting a glare with the primary red optic that sends Hadrix stepping back and raising a hand before leaning against the bulkhead, helmet opening and a fresh cigarra put in his lips, lit, and watching the hatch, humming with a snatch of words escaping, "Touch me not, come back tomorrow... Oh my heart, oh my heart" quieting as he inhales to blow a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, humming still.
The pair of army troopers still firing, still trying to keep distance between them and Dailo, one looking over his shoulder towards the far access passage, potentially looking for an escape route. "Fine! Kark you shavit-suckin' hutt spawn!" the shake of their hands giving proof of just how much they're scraping for courage to keep from just turning to run.
Zevin nods once to Hapvarnna before he sprints and leans forward, jetpack blazing. Around the bend without even bouncing off the wall and onward to arrive to the sight of downed marines and crew, but the sight of Dailo squaring off with her armored fists with two marines with Valeska on the far side. The shifts of the battlefield. His stun baton was stowed for flight, so as he tilts back vertical and even further to slow his momentum, his hand falls to his side. His feet hit the deck, his left hand rises with a blaster pistol in it, and he shoots, downing one of the soldiers.
He takes two shots at the other, but there's a reason he's still standing: he's a dancer. Also, better to be cautious and /not/ shoot a comrade, when he knows she's perfectly capable of handling this herself. He starts to say, <"Captain-"> But he is out of time.
Sandwiched between the Captain and a Private, Valeska takes all of two seconds to pick a direction and swings. A swift hit to the Captain's chest knocks the breath out of her and seizes up the lungs, a gasp of air only taken when her unconscious body crumbles to the floor. The convergence of the rest of the team to their location allows Valeska to relax a little.
And by relax, she takes several steps back and turns off her riot baton so that she can grip at the very nasty wound on her shoulder. <"Kriff...">
One soldier is blasted down, making the odds for the final unfair, at least. Dailo laughs at the dumbfounded look on her opponents face before she punches him square in the kisser. The hit surprises and shocks him off his feet where he lands on his back and Dailo dives for the full mount, straddling him without a second thought.
They lock arms for a moment until Dailo takes hold of his scalp by his hair, propping his head up. Instinctively, his hands go to her wrist to try to dislodge her hand, and that's when the final strike comes. She uses her body weight to deliver it, the connection forcing his face to one side to spew teeth and blood. "Hahaha.. nighty night." She kisses her fingers and delivers her touch to the side of his unconscious face, making a goofy face. "Maybe next time.."
Zevin is given a look and nod, a quiet thanks for his assistance, and she rises up slowly, shaking the blood from her hand and looking ahead to see who was next.
Hapvarnna's appearance in engineering silences Hadrix's musical foray and Gripper disengages from the droid socket, "All done, system logs wiped, it'll splice back into hyperspace travel as soon as we're back in."
<"Good job."> a nod from the big man who turns to the togrutta with scoring on his chest and makes to approach with his medkit coming out, <"Only a stingwing bite this time, you getting careful on me?">
"Y'sgritti, not averse... to burn of fire." metal leg thunking with each step until he is seated and being patched by the big man who keeps puffing while patching, opting to not try to figure out how to answer that. Other than to give something of a shrug and a 'I get it' sort of shift in expression. Once a flametrooper, always a flametrooper.
It's quiet at last, at least forward, the bridge empty and the shooting done. Moments before the jammer floating in space burns out and the gravity well system with it, bringing Mir's voice.
<<"Assuming you haf not been all killed, I'm going to disengage the airlock connection and move towards the rendezvous post asset pickup.">> the Lone Zakkeg closing hatches on it and the bulk freighter side before drifting away - holding just in case.
<<"Copy, Bridge group - get us back on course for Fondor, we're almost done.">> Hadrix's gruff response now that comms are back.
Zevin leaves his helmet on, despite being relatively 'in the clear.' <"I'll go start gettin' the guests comfy. Wouldn't do not to be hospitable."> He grabs the sergeant and starts dragging her towards the bunk room. This part is easier, but it's still going to be heavy moving the whole crew. <"'ll feel this in my back tomorrow."> He's not even grousing, just a statement of fact.
Wouldn't this be faster with a jetpack? Yes! But if he messes up even a little bit, odds of seriously injuring or killing someone are pretty high. So he's hoofing it.
