Log:Outriders: Veil Dancer 1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_D0ZQPqeJkk

INTRODUCTION... PART ONE

In the resplendent dining hall of the YCT Highwayman, a Luxury 5000 Yacht transformed into the mobile base of The Outriders, traces of a bygone era of luxury intertwine with the urgency of rebellion. Once a vessel catering to the galaxy's elite, the ship now functions as a sanctuary for the Outriders. And yet, despite its metamorphosis, hints of elegance remain: the graceful curves of sturdy tables, fragments of delicate artwork, and a window opening onto the vastness of the cosmos.

Captain Calia, a youngish blonde woman already dressed in the garb of Rebel Covert Ops, steps up to the room's dominant holoprojector, and all chatter ceases.

"We stand on a precipice," Captain Calia declares, her voice filled with gravity. With a graceful gesture, she paints the expanse of the galaxy across the hall. Stars, constellations, and other celestial wonders gleam brilliantly.

"In this vastness," she continues, directing their attention to two significant points, "two figures rise: Lady Qi'ra, an enigma we've cautiously come to respect, and Thalia Kressh, a known slaver and the force of the Eclipse Ring."

The projection zooms, revealing a ship of imposing magnitude -- a Lucrehulk-class Battleship. Some might recognize it as the old Trade Federation's primary capital ship, a spherical command center surrounded by a C-shaped hull.

"The Veil Dancer," says Calia. "Thalia's base and, we hope, her vulnerability. Our objectives are to completely disable the Veil Dancer, to capture Thalia Kressh, and to liberate as many of their starfighters as we're able for our purposes. We'll be going in -- appropriately enough -- on the Ghost, under the command of General Dameron, and once we land, we'll break into teams. Team One will be responsible for disabling the ship and apprehending Kressh. Team Two will be responsible for securing as many starfighters as possible. For the rest, I turn the briefing over to Lady Qi'ra of the Crimson Dawn."

The atmosphere shifts subtly. A soft chime heralds an arrival, and all eyes turn as Lady Qi'ra herself enters. Her aura is magnetic, drawing every gaze. Captain Calia steps back, allowing the Crimson Dawn's leader her moment. She's accompanied by none of her own guards -- familiar figures that those used to seeing her in public would have come to expect -- and she's dressed in expensive black slacks and a beige jacket, a simple (though heavily modified) DL-54 blaster strapped to her side. Though rumors of Lady Qi'ra exploits go back sixty years or more, the woman that stands in this room could be no more than thirty-five, her long dark hair pulled back from elegant features into a tight, high ponytail.

"Outriders," Qi'ra begins, her voice both soft and penetrating, "our window is narrow, so I won't belabor the point. Thalia Kressh is a threat. She is a terrorist -- a slaver and a pirate that preys on the weak, but she should not be underestimated. This is not the first attempt I've made to stop her, but it is the best chance we've ever had. For all her prowess, she finally has a weakness."

She gestures, and the Ghost Nebula appears on the projector, a swirling, enigmatic spectacle. "Within this enigma," Qi'ra states, "lies our chance. The Veil Dancer is momentarily vulnerable while being serviced. The ship is using the nebula's sensor jamming properties to hide while its primary systems are offline, but I fully expect its starfighter complement and its security teams to be on guard."

Images flash across the display: corridors, chambers, points of entry. "Your task," Qi'ra dictates, "is clear. Penetrate, disrupt, and secure. But be wary: you're delving into shadows, into the galaxy's most treacherous territories."

She looks around, locking eyes with each Outrider, a silent challenge echoing in the room. "May fortune favor you," she murmurs, then departs with a whisper of her cloak.

Within the confines of The Ghost, streaks of starlight blur past as the ship hurtles through hyperspace towards The Ghost Nebula, but the familiar hum of the engines is almost drowned out by the buzz of activity. Everywhere, there's a palpable sense of anticipation. Shadows move swiftly through corridors, the soft clinks of weaponry and muted conversations echoing through the metallic walls. The air is thick with the scent of oiled metal and the subdued tension of upcoming battle.

Most crew members, regardless of their role, move with purpose, a dance of preparation that needs no choreography. Unspoken understandings pass between them, a shared commitment to the mission ahead.

Amid the thrum of activity, Captain Calia has found a strategic spot to station herself. With a datapad in hand, she leans against a panel, exuding an aura of calm amidst the storm. Her eyes, sharp and observant, flit across the room, ready to answer queries or provide guidance. Her rebel covert armor hugs her form, a testament to battles past and those imminent. On her right thigh, the JSP-14 pistol rests in a quickdraw holster, its sleek design promising lethal precision. Its silent counterpart, a vibroblade, is strapped to her left thigh ? a weapon for closer encounters.

Though her posture is relaxed, there's an underlying tension in her stance, a coiled readiness. While she doesn't treat it callously, this sort of mission seems to come easily to her -- as if she'd done similar things hundreds times in the past. And most of all, she stands ready to guide the mission where needed.

Clad in rather bulky armour, Rieve is certainly not attired in his usual light and agile attire. Slung against his left hip, a vibroblade is sheathed, while a clunky looking blaster pistol is slung against his right shoulder. Helm tucked beneath his right arm, Rieve pauses for a moment to watch the hustle and bustle of preparation, even offering Calia a respectful salute, deferring to her rank as he tags along to offer support.

The Hapan takes but a moment to check a few supplies, a medpac slung snug against his back, a few ammo pouches double checked and tripple checked, and the weapon itself given a brief once over. The umpteenth once over. Blue hair all mussed, the exotic courtesan of high society cuts quite the youthful figure, even though like Qi'ra, some might well recall that Rieve has been with the Rebellion for more years than would seem possible. "Plan is sound Capitaine, good hunting to you, and to each and all." A few accented words offered to Calia as Rieve settles in for the journey, ready to support where needed.

Ever the warrior and and always making sure to be in proper fighting shape, Krutur goes over his gear again. Drawing Ryyk blade he tests the edge of the blade and its sharpness. Moving on to his bowcaster he gives a huge smile as his fingers move over the weapon deftly with precision, making sure it's in perfect working order, the giant black wookie let's out a grunt of satisfaction as he places the weapon upon his back with a nod.

Poe is at the controls of the Ghost, hands moving over the instruments, triggering several of the switches as random alarms sound. It seems routine, but there is nothing routine about space travel. Poe is not alone in the cockpit, the co-pilot seat is occupied by a massive black-furred Wookiee who glares angrily at the alarms sounding from his side. "Get ready to engage the stealth system.. that switch over.. no, the other one," Poe says, then continues, "..no, the other one. No..the /other/ one." Cue the angry yells of Krrsantan. "What do you /mean/ I'm not telling you which one? It's right rekking /there/ !" Poe yells back.

To those who have traveled with the Spicerunners before, this is pretty routine. It's when Krrsantan /isn't/ threatening to end Poe's life that one must worry.

An intercom in the personnel hold triggers, Poe's voice heard over a grumbling Wookiee's (which makes up the background.) <<"Two minutes out, guys. Get ready, this might be ugly.">>

The hood of Galen's robes are up as he relaxes in a seat for the moment as they fly towards the unknown. Eyes closed and deep even breaths coming from him would make some assume that he's asleep until one eye cracks open a bit, "Ugly? I didn't realize there was a mirror I had to look in." With a sharp exhale from his nose he sits up pulling the hood back before he looks around, "So how many pilots did we bring?"

Brother Bizz is dressed in old Jedhan robes with a suit of cheap armor underneath. He is seated on a bench in the ship, painstakingly crimping chepatite detonators into the energized arrows for his light bow. "As I remember it, this Qi'ra woman is Black Sun, and they are slavers and pirates in their own right," he mutters to himself.

Karas is dressed in a black flight suit, slightly armored, and he has his blaster pistols holstred. He had been keeping up with the information as to what was going on. He looks around at those gathered adn when Galen ask who were pilots, "Here." he says as he looks to the man and he smirks, "Been a while Galen." he says to the man having remeembered him some time ago. He then looks over at Bizz, "Hey." he smiles as he looks to him as well. He moves up a bit to look into the cockpit as he sees Poe, he doesn't go far though.

Karlie Is doing what a techie does best.. Distract herself by checking out the systems of the ghost and making sure it's working like they want it to work.. That and she's double checking her tools and armor.. as she sighs " You can do this karlie " the zeltron woman sighs " I hope the armor bar got you works " even thoughs he modded it herself

As the Ghost nears the target location, Hadrix is standing with his 'kad in hand. The silvery metal showing a quality like waves in it when the light hits. The keened point creating a dimple in the ships deck plates as the pure beskar blade vibrates with the movement of the ship, the big man's voice rumbling over his vocalizer,

<"Par'te Verde te'haat'kyr kyr'am. Te'Verde nayc'chaab kyr'am, Par'ibac takisit oya'la. Te'Verde kar'taylir val nu'liser shukalar buruk, a'par buruk'ika val'liser mav'ashie teh chaab">

Guttural, something in the words pulling something up from the man, a pit of rage that is building and billowing out from the man in waves that are almost palpable.

<"Val payt'oyayc mar'eyir vercopaanir o'r'val ijaat'kyr'am. Val'tion'ad partaylir rejorhaa'ir Be'val'mandokar, be'tion'tuur te'ca?nara olaror; val'epan ba'dinuir'an. ">

Head lowered, visor dark for the moment and the blade being turned slowly by steady motion of his palms against the haft.

<"Gehat'ike oyacyir'bat. Shi'Verde olaror lo'eyn'gev.">

Ready.

Calia looks up from her datapad, blue eyes softening as she returns the salute to Rieve and gives him a wink. Military protocol wasn't really 'her thing' -- at least, it didn't seem to be her preferred thing -- but there was apparently a time and a place for everything. "I appreciate it. Let's hope it survives first contact with the enemy," she muses.

Then Poe's voice is breaking in over the speakers and Calia's eyes are lifting to that, letting out a soft breath. With any luck, they weren't all going to explode in a giant fireball trying to make it to the Veil Dancer, but if they did, at least she wouldn't be around to catch hell about it.

It's Brother Bizz that draws Calia's attention next, offering a little shake of her head. "Black Sun and Crimson Dawn are rivals -- always have been. Make no mistake, the Crimson Dawn are full of thieves and cut-throats, but they're not slavers, and Qi'ra's done a lot to improve the Dawnrise District from when it was Parmac. We're not getting into bed with the Dawn, but I'll take intel where I can get it and cut one snake's head off at a time."

It's Galen's question about the pilots that brings her back to the moment -- not the politics of the wars they were fighting or the ethics of taking intel from one demon to slay another -- but the battle they were literally flying into.

"Yeah, alright. Let's go ahead and split into two teams. Each team will have a team leader that takes orders from me and passes them on. If you are on TEAM ONE, your team will move to, as effectively as possible, permanently disable critical ship systems by whatever means necessary. Slice 'em, over-load 'em, find something that explodes to throw into 'em, I don't care. You're also tasked with finding Thalia Kressh, if possible, and bringing her in. We're rebels, not assassins, but we /do/ defend ourselves... with deadly force of necessary. Once that's done, you exfil back to The Ghost, and we get out of here. If you are on TEAM TWO, your team will secure access to the fighter bays and gain access to as many of their starfighters as you can. We NEED these starfighters for the battles that are coming, and we need them intact. We're not here to get into dogfights. Once you have the fighters, your job is to get out of the nebula as quickly as possible and rendezvous back with the Highwayman."

There's a pause, then.

"I need volunteers, people, but I'll assign if I have to. I need anyone with demo experience, slicers, anyone that can't confidently fly a fighter on Team One. I need PILOTS on Team Two -- good pilots that can get the ships out of there. If you're on Team Two, your primary ex-fil is a fighter you've stolen. "

One more pause.

"Show of hands. Who's on TEAM ONE? Where are my demo people? To be clear, if you're not raising your hand, you are on Team Two by default. These are your only options."

It is with a rather laissez-faire raising of his hand that Rieve notions his intent towards Team One, for one? His armour speaks of a certain skill in demolitions, and rumours certainly swirl about his ability with various explosives. "I suppose I should..." The Hapan takes a moment to brace himself, leaning in against a bulkhead having finally stowed all his weapons and such. "... volunteer for demo duty, I have a way with explosives if so needed... I'm sure there's some aboard that can be made use of oui?"

The Hapan smiles a delightfully gap-toothed smile, relaxed, at ease, content even. "I do love an explosion 'ere and there, they drive home a message, and we've certainly a message to drive home." A nonchalant shrug soon follows as he rests a gloved hand against the hilt of his vibrosword, the other soon resting lazily against his armoured midriff, thumb tucked against an armoured plate.

Krutur shakes his head and keeps his hand down. "rwarrl rwarrl woeieowl rwowoal rwarrl wrall, rwowoal rwowoal rwoarl rwowoal rwarrl rwarrl grarrrl wrall rwarrl." He says simply as he pats both his traditional weapons. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "I'm a pilot and a warrior, demo and slicing not my wheel house of skills."

Poe pulls back on the hyperdrive lever and their perspective changes from the spiraling blue to real space in the span of a heartbeat. Engines on the Ghost come to life in that instant, roaring and rattling the decking and interior of the vessel as Poe puts the old girl through her paces. "Shields up, we're close. That stealth devices stays on too long, they'll pick up on the heat signature!"

For once, the big guy isn't yelling at Poe. He's flipped the correct switch, which is a miracle, and the Ghost appears in space as a subspace-anomaly. Signals jammed, it wouldn't be long before someone noticed /something/ was amiss.

Galen nods, "I'll be going with Team 2 then. I'm no ace pilot but I'm good enough to get the job done." An absent minded tap on some objects on his belt before he stands to pace just a little bit, "So big one there and myself so far for Team 2."

Bizz grunts at Calia. "Well I don't trust these criminal organizations. And I don't like ships that might be full of DROIDS." He listens to the options and his bushy eyebrows perk up. "I have some boomas! And I might have a datapad for slicing." He takes a Clone Wars-era Versafunction88 datapad from his satchel.

Karas checks his weapons and instructions are given, Karas smirks a little, "I will be on Team 2." he says as he looks to Calia, "I can also fly cover if needed to make sure all the pilots get out and jump." he says as he looks to Calia. He ndos his head as he hears Poe's voice and informing them about the stealth systems. "I'm ready." he smiles a bit and he looks to Krutur and Galen and he nods to the two who've said they will pilot.

Karlie Looks up " I'm just a techie so I need some cover but I'll be team one " she smiles ' i think I can help best with that " seh looks around " but i will need dfense i'm not that good a fighter "

"I'll go where you need me. That's what I'm paid for. I can't guarantee this slaver Thalia will make it back... But she'll be tended to."> There's blood on his mind and The Old Anger is being riled up by the warrior who, if people were to really know much about him might consider the overblown concept of his 'legend' as the foolish would call it.

Stormtrooper for more than 7 years.

Mercenary and Mandalorian for hire for more than twice that.

Granted there was as much synthetic in him that some jested he was retroactively an HRD. The genetic tampering on him by the Arkanians only compounded things. Faster healing, stronger immune system. A lifespan that may surpass a normal human's. All for War.

War within. War without. War never ending.

The bes'kad is hefted in his right hand, the heavy Mandalorian Iron glimmering and from his left hip a wookiee pistol big enough to be mistaken for a boat anchor for a fishing skimmer - the bolt cylinder rotating and ratcheting in place. A crimson pin prick glows to life in the right hand branch of his visor before his head turns towards Calia, silently expecting her to give directive. It's her decicred, after all.

Calia's doing mental tallies, raising a hand and pointing at each hand she sees. Her gaze lingers for a moment on Hadrix, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "That's the best any of us can ask for, Commander."

Then she's looking around at the others.

"Okay -- Team ONE, Captain Selki is team leader, joining him is Brother Bizz, Sergeant Karlie, and Al'Verde Kora," the blonde Captain of The Outriders says.

"Team TWO, Major Darkwing is team leader, joining him is Sergeant Krutur and Gal--"

Even as she's speaking, The Ghost shifts out of hyperspace back into real-space. She reaches up to grab a handhold nearby to steady herself, catching her datapad just before it falls out of her hand.

"--Galen. I'll join Team Two and see if we can get another fighter home with us. General Dameron will provide as much cover as he can from The Ghost, but they're going to need our help making sure we get as many of the battleship's defenses as we can offline. It'll help get the starfighters out, too."

She's still holding on to that hand-hold with one hand, just in case, and lifts her datapad.

"All of you have access to the standard plans of a Lucrehulk-class battleship. Team Leaders, do the best you can and bring your people back alive -- that really is the best any of us can ask for. We're not stormtroopers. We're not overwhelming them with numbers. Do what you can do, and fall back if it gets to be too much. I'll be on comms to coordinate, but Karas, I'll be following your lead as part of your team."

One last look around.

"I'd hold on to something. The landing may be... rough."

She reaches up to tap her earpiece.

<< "Poe, we're set and ready for insertion on your signal." >>

Poe's a psychopath pilot, and this isn't any attempt at lifting that fact up. At any point during the maneuver they could have died. Krrsantan is aware of this because he can see it, and is screaming at Poe. Poe, on the other hand, is managing speed with one hand, with his other on the yoke, angling the Ghost right for an open docking bay. To reach it, they have to get beneath the shields of the battleship.

They manage to hit the shield just right, and just as Calia is informing Poe they're ready to disembark, the Ghost pokes her head inside the docking bay, every single reverse repulsor thruster firing at once.

The technique requires Poe to transition from one engine lever to the other, yanking one back and the other forward in a sudden transition and switch that prompts him to cry out against the sudden jerking gravity that takes hold.

From outside in the hangar, the Ghost arrives in an instant and has to stop suddenly, fighting physics. Poe /barely/ avoids smashing the bulkhead.

Landing struts come down, and the personnel hold goes from RED LIGHT to GREEN LIGHT, indicating it's time to disembark and get after it. <<"You're clear, Captain. Go, go, go!">> Poe is flipping about a hundred switches and trying to resolve every internal alarm in the cockpit, sparks popping off from overhead consoles.

Captain Selki, a title and rank that the Hapan has almost gotten used to even after all these year. Standing ready to board the enemy, Rieve draws his vibroblade with his left hand and readis his JSP pistol with his right. Both hands occupied, blade held low and likewise the pistol itself. The heavily armoured Hapan having donned his helm, and finally braced himself for the inevitable boarding action and race to the heart of the enemy ship.

The blade thrums for a brief moment, the Hapan's thumb grazing the switch that sets a good many oh so sharp teeth into whirring motion before being silenced again. "Well comrades, lets see if we can't haul this pirate queen out alive? Put down the enemy quick and hard and we'll make short work of this oui? Lets see what damage we can cause along the way." A heavy-booted foot stomps forward, bracing himself, readying for the swift charge into the heart of the enemy. And then it's the green light! And Rieve is hurtling forward, boarding that enemy ship, pistol raised, sword readied, breath muffled within his helm! "Onwards!" Valuable seconds are spent claiming ground, the debriefing visualised, directions pondered for a split second... Team One is a go!

Krutur smiles in anticipation standing up his whole body flooded with adrenaline and eagerness. Nothing like a mission to him he pulls his bowcaster off his back and moves to Karas and the rest of his team. "rwarrl rwarrl woeieowl rwarrl wrall." Krutur says as he waits for his team Leader to lead the way. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "I'm right behind you Major."

Galen nods a bit, "Got it Major Darkwing is the team lead for team 2." He glances over towards Karas, "I'm ready to go." Then he stands near the ramp to exit with team two a cylindrical object removed from his belt as he spins it once in his hand before letting the wooden grip settle into his palm before closing his fingers around it.

Bizz hastily secures his booma balls and datapad in his kod'yok-hide satchel, bracing for impact. The rotund ugnaught is jerked around by the inertia of a hasty dustoff landing. "Oh no!" Finally the belly ramp opens with hissing hydraulics. Bizz tugs his robe and waddles out into the hostile docking bay. He takes out his data pad to examine the schematics. "Uh. It's a circle. What system were we hitting first?"

Karas who's flown with Poe on numerous times and this is nothing new, he does make sure he's strapped in for this. "This is where the fun begins." he says with a smirk on his face. Grunting as they land, and quickly unbuckling from the seat, as the landing ramp goes down, "Team 2 let's go!" he calls and draws his blaster pistol and starts running down the ramp, "Here we go again." he says to Galen and is going.

A curt nod of his head as he's put under Rieve's command for organization. T-Visor turning towards the hapan and one could almost feel the lopsided half-grin at the irony of that assignment.

<"Gripper.">

"I'm distributing he scramble comm codes."

The big man turns then towards the ramp with the sensation of the ship maneuvering and artificial gravity fields meshing with the passage of the craft through the Luchrehulk's mag-con shields.

<"Selki. I'm the Van... Call and mark priorities.">

When the Go-ahead is given by the general Hadrix is moving with a speed that defies a man of his bulk or in his mid forties. Haul this slaver queen out alive. Maybe. But she's a slaver and the Mandalorian was running with hobnailed boots crashing down the plates with blade held in low guard and pistol raised, ready to be swung towards the first foeman to draw his attention.

The immense Veil Dancer, with its colossal hull and bristling armaments, hangs against the backdrop of the starlit void. This Lucrehulk-class battleship, notorious for housing pirates and slavers, is a monolithic fortress. With shields humming and energy pulsating across its expanse, the ship stands as a formidable challenge even undergoing maintenance in the middle of the Ghost Nebula.

But of course Poe is unfazed. His reputation as a psychopath pilot is not unfounded. The shield's shimmering barrier is the only obstacle standing between the Ghost and its precarious entry point. Inside the Ghost, the sudden change in forces is palpable. As Poe transitions from one engine lever to the other, the entire ship shudders violently. Calia can't help but shout, a visceral reaction to the gravitational whiplash that grips the vessel.

As the team disembarks from the Ghost, a vast expanse of the Veil Dancer's docking bay unfolds before them. Their immediate surroundings are bathed in the cold, mechanical glow of overhead lights, reflecting off the polished durasteel floor. The sheer size of the hangar is overwhelming, capable of housing a multitude of ships and equipment, indicative of the vast operations of this pirate organization.

Directly ahead, colossal blast doors stand sentinel, likely leading to the main body of the battleship. To the left, maintenance pits and platforms are scattered throughout, with various tools, equipment, and starship parts meticulously organized around them.

To the right, a series of control rooms and observation decks are visible, encased in transparisteel, with personnel moving about, some already alerted to the unexpected arrival of the Ghost. Suspended walkways crisscross overhead, linking different parts of the hangar and providing access to the higher levels of the battleship.

This bay isn't used for housing starfighters, but there are crates of all shapes and sizes stacked in piles.

But what truly stands out are the holding areas interspersed throughout the hangar. Enclosed by force fields, they contain groups of beings, about five or six per shielded cell -- prisoners, judging by their ragged appearances and downcast expressions. These individuals, representative of various species from across the galaxy, are a somber reminder of the Veil Dancer's secondary function as a slaver ship.

The hum of activity gradually crescendos as personnel within the hangar become acutely aware of the team's presence. Droids halt their tasks, turning their optical sensors toward the newcomers. Crew members exchange hurried whispers, some reaching for comlinks, while others, caught flat-footed, begin to wrestle blaster pistols out of their holsters... and it soon becomes obvious that for some of them, they may never have had to draw their sidearm in their lives.

Calia goes down the ramp with Team Two, drawing her vibroblade into her left hand and her JSP-14 pistol into her right, flicking the setting over to stun. "Let's clear it out! Stay on mission! We're not here to set up camp! Get cover and clear it out!"

There's a series of beeps, and out from some cubby somewhere within the Ghost rolls a black-and-orange BB droid after her, helpfully keeping her between itself and the excitement that was happening but sticking close by, regardless.

Rieve charges. Heavy boots hit the ground hard! And Rieve fires off a shot that thumps into one of the ground crew, that fiery red bolt slamming hard as another shot flies off to scorch the wall of the hangar. "Get those doors open!" And the Hapan pauses for all of a second. People. Cages. Okay, so the Hapan might be slightly off mission as he veers towards those very cages, weapon held aloft, ready to fire again as he closes the distance between him and those poor slaves. "Not leaving these people behind!"

And perhaps with a slightly less technically adept manner, the vibrosword is put to good use severing power, shorting wires, and causing all manner of smokey and sparky mayhem as he weaves towards his actual goal... the door. "Come on now, friend!" Rieve exclaims, patting his chest and gesturing towards the Ghost. "Get yourselves aboard! Be free! Or fight... just know we aren't leaving you behind!" Aaaaw. The blade whirrrrrs. Teeth grind. Metal is wrecked. Sparks fly. The Hapan takes a tiny detour.

Krutur growls and howls seeing the slaves kept in those cages. His heavy foot falls coming down the ramp. "woeieowl, woeieowl!!! rwowoal rwarrl grarrrl rwowoal rwarrl wrall!!!" He growls charging forward and taking a shot, in his haste and anger though the bolt from his bowcaster misses its mark by a little. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "Slaves, slaves!!! No one should live in chains!!!"

As the ramp is opened and Team 2 is sent out Galen heads out of the ramp and into the hangar before he looks around... And ignites his saber, "Two ways this can go. First I don't think ya'll will like. You fight and you get hurt or die." A breath and then he continues, "The second might be more a bit more to your liking. You surrender and you live. Relatively pain free I'm sure."

Having seen the schematics and making sure to burn it into his mind. As the others begin running down, "On me!" he calls to his team breaking to nearest hangar bay, this one didn't have any fighters. Using cargo crates as cover as he takes off towards that hangar, "Move, move!" he calls to his team as he lets off two shots at a nearby Hanger Crew member. Two gold bolts leap from his blaster, one missing and another hitting one of the crew members as he's running by.

Karlie Tries to stay being the bigger men with the bigger guns and basicly keeps herself nice and low .. only pointing her very large pistol to unlease some very big nasty bolts out.. The first she hits but the second well blaster fire scares her!

Brother Bizz gets himself behind a crate at the earliest opportunity. "Captain Blue, we gotta move fast, by the FORCE. Or their security will deploy and pin us down!" He activates a booma ball from his satchel and hurls it at a group of guards. It explodes in a sizzling purple mess.

<<"Can't blow it.">> Gripper's cultured and synthesized voice on comms, answered by an absolutely feral growl, an animal sound, from Al'Verde Kora as the pair speed towards pirate crew caught with their mouths open at the sight of the transport disgorging warriors into their midst. Stride lengthening out and his left hand points as if admonishing the first to come under his immediate purview.

That fury is boiling to see the people rendered as they are and a voice creeps into the back of the big man's mind,

'If ever there was a good time...'

'Not. Now.'

'Come out... They're slavers. They don't count.'

'St<<"op...">> the word carrying over onto comms as Hadrix does, as some have called, 'talks to ghosts'.

He and Rieve's path were aligning it seemed, the Mandalorian leaning into his run and dragging the razor edge of the sword across the hip of the first before squeezing the firing stud and hurling a blue comet at one of the other hangar crew. The wookiee pistol threatening to punch his arm out of its socket. Cylinder rotating and chambering another durasteel slug into the pressurizing chamber and releasing another cobalt blast.

One body was falling - blood geysering from the stump of a dismembered leg, tumbling over as their compatriot is flung backwards, their ribs burst open in what might be called An Umbrella of Agony.

<<"Team One - We can only shut down ships weapons. There are civilians in play.">>

And he wanted to do so much more.

The transition from the eerie silence of the initial moment to chaos is swift and ruthless. The moment the team from the Ghost emerges, blaster bolts paint the hangar with their erratic light, illuminating the scene in sporadic flashes of red and blue. The Veil Dancer's crew, taken off-guard by the ferocity and precision of the assault, scramble for cover, shouting urgent warnings into their comlinks.

As Team One spreads out and their blasters bark out short, controlled bursts, Rieve breaks away from the main group, sprinting toward the prisoner cages, his intention is clear -- use the chaos to free as many captives as possible. The force fields around the cages flicker and die under the assault of Rieve's blade, and the prisoners, despite their initial shock, quickly understand the situation, running towards the ramp of the Ghost.

Meanwhile, the majority of Team Two dashes toward the adjacent hangar. They weave through maintenance pits, dodging fire from the occasional brave crew member attempting to mount a defense. Their objective is the next hangar down -- hoping beyond hope that it will be the one that contains the fighters they're after.

The hangar floor becomes a fierce battleground. Blaster bolts ricochet off the durasteel walls, the smell of ozone mixing with the more acrid scent of burnt flesh. Bizz's booma ball takes out two of them, bursting and splattering to shrieks of agony.

Calia's running after Karas, her blaster pistol held firmly in her right hand, and lifted to fire at a couple of the deck crew that already had their blasters out of their holsters. Two stun bolts. Two targets on the ground. Her BB-droid still rolling along right on her heels as they head towards that adjoining hangar door.

The orders had been straight-forward. Team one was /supposed/ to be disabling critical ship systems (like defenses, power grid, comms, sensors, and anything else that might render the ship useless for as long as possible and help them escape)... at no point during the briefing was detouring to rescue prisoners on the list.

Then comes Calia's voice over the comms. She'd obviously seen what Rieve was up to, and she wasn't thrilled with it.

<< "Rieve, we're on the Ghost, not a frekkin' Botajef AA-9. Stop making friends and get those turrets offline!" >>

The two remaining Veil Dancer crew members, perhaps emboldened by desperation or loyalty, unleash a hail of return fire from behind an overturned maintenance cart. Blaster fire streaks out towards the big, armored form of Hadrix and the lightsaber-wielding Galen, no doubt shooting out of raw fear more than any sense of tactics.

The advantage lies with the team from the Ghost. With nearly a dozen of the battleship's crew already incapacitated, their numbers and momentum are overwhelming. Captain Calia's voice can be heard over the din, shouting directives, ensuring that the objectives remain clear amidst the tumult: disable the ship's weapons, secure valuable assets, and, above all, capture Thalia Kressh.

And then the klaxons begin to wail overhead. The entire ship was finally alerted to the incursion.

Heavy footfalls announce the arrival of a peculiar looking red-and-blue battledroid adorned in rattling bones. Holding an unprimed shotgun in one mechanical hand, the droid makes an up-down motion cocking the action and priming the weapon in one go. It arrives at the foot of the ramp and stations itself there, beak-like head turning from side to side as a nasally voice is heard over comms.

<<"THIS UNITS PREJUDICE PROTOCOL AT MAX SETTING. ITS PROGRAMMING INDICATES THAT TODAY IS A GOOD DAY FOR MURDER!">>

Poe is heard directly after that, <<"BONES.. STOP SCREAMING IN THE COMMS!">>

<<"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRETTY GIRL!">>

Prisoners herded, Rieve tips a lazy salute to the last few and swirls about to fire off two rather accurate shots, twin red bolts slamming into the flailing ground crew as the armoured Hapan moves off away from the Ghost and its new complement of passengers. <"Think of it as standing room only, at least for a short time oui? We'll be fine! We've an awesome pilot, now lets get out of here... try the doors!"> Rieve calls out over comms, noting the closed nature of the doors as he puts down the last two hangar crew with a certain aplomb.

Pistol lowered, Rieve moves adjacent to Jadrix, fluidly, gracefully, a definite dancer's grace even encumbered by all the armour he is presently prtected within. <"... besides, they looked forlorn! You should see the hope etched upon their faces now Capitaine... truly a sight to behold!"> That warm Hapan accent drifts freely, easily, oh the Hapan is proud as he moves to finally get back on track with his current task and mission.

Galen just sighs as the fighting continues one of the crew firing a blaster at him and he just steps away from where the blaster bolt should have gone, "Now now." Then he takes off with the rest of team 2 towards the side hangar disengaging his saber as he moves, "They chose poorly." As he looks at the door he just motions with his hands as he focuses on opening the door forcing it open, "After you boss." He motions towards the door so that Team 2 can head into the side hangar.

Krutur charges towards the door that Galen opened and he fires another shot missing broadly again he glares at his bowcaster. "rwal, rwarrl rwowoal roarrl wrall wrall woeieowl?" He shakes his head but continues moving forward. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "Kriff, is there something off with it?"

Bizz hears the pleas from Calia and Poe aboard the Ghost on his comm unit. He runs toward the big door that leads toward the center of this donut ship, his belly bouncing, and smacks the control panel. It opens with a mechanical HMMMMMM. "To the control center! That's where the controls are! I hear DROIDS."

Seeing the hangar doors closed, he is about to say something when Galen comes up and he watches and smiles, "Alright, come on." he says as he looks to his team. Gesturing for his team to follow him, quickly pointing out cargo boxes for them to take cover behind, "We need to move fast. Keep each other covered!" he calls back as he pushes forward, firing two shots, and again one shot misses and another hits.

Karlie Runs over and quickly puts her gun away.. bigger people with more armor and guns thank here are dong thier thing.. she grabs her pad and quickly plugs it into a port behind a crate.. and starts to type away quickly.. The big doors don't need to open and let those driods murder no thanks

<<"Hope... is the first step on the road to disappointment...">> muttered by the Mandalorian as he proceeds, the matter of the slaves being ushered for the Ghost. Casting his glare through the shadows of his visor for the room at large. Unable to not be a giant, scarred, foul mooded wet blanket.

Such a churl.

<<"Captain">> head turning fractionally towards Rieve while jogging towards the primary lifts, attentions raised for potential figures to get between he and the targe, <<"I can go to engineering... or I can go for the control center.">> the implication being he requires no backup if directed to go alone.

Already making plans mentally, however he is directed. Ordnance of a variety was set out on his webbing. Grenades. Det-Tape. Demo-Charges.

A pair of thermo-nuclear spheres.

Calia's response to Rieve's antics, however well-placed they might have been, was to groan into her comlink. Now wasn't the time for an argument, and as long everyone that needed a ride would still FIT on the Ghost (even if it was like cattle), it made sense to bring them.

Just... maybe as a lower priority.

Whatever.

Bizz and Galen managed to get their doors open at about the same time to MUCH different results. Whereas Brother Bizz found his door unlocked and only heard the impending doom of synchronized droid footfalls, Galen used THE FORCE to open his and was rewarded with a small mass of armed soldiers running towards him.

Blaster fire erupts again with Krutur, Karas, and Calia all firing into the gap. Several of the hangar crew fall, but most of their return fire goes wide... except for the one that catches Calia in her left leg just as she's going through the door.

There's a sudden scream of pain from her, and she drops to that knee, crawling up behind the wall to get out of the way of future shots while she checks it. Her dark and orange little BB-droid rolls up beside her going 'DWOO-DWOO' in a worried tone.

Calia winces, tugging at her pants leg. "I'm fine, Bee." And then she reaches up to tap her comlink.

<< "This is Cali. I've been hit." >> Her voice sounds harder, more strained. It wasn't as simple as a glancing graze. << "I.. I can still move. I think." >>

Climbing up into a starfighter might be another question, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

As for Team One, they were having much more success. The sound of marching droids was cut off abruptly by Karlie slicing a nearby terminal and shutting a blast door in their faces. That wouldn't hold them forever, but it absolutely cut off their quickest path to the team and it seemingly opened up the rest of the corridor for them to explore farther into the ship.

The thing about the Lucrehulk-class battleships is that they're HUGE and they take a TON of people (or droids) to be fully outfitted. And even though these pirates obviously had resources, they weren't the Trade Federation. It was like the battleship was running on a skeleton crew -- a show of force to intimidate their foes that no one outside of their organization was ever allowed to see into.

As Team One ventures farther in, they do in fact run across a bank of lifts and a choice -- to go up to the command center together or to split up and go both to the command center and engineering at the same time to sabotage the Veil Dancer's engines, too.

It is with a nod to Hadrix that Rieve ponders his offer. <"Go for it, shut down everything. Weapons. Engines. Shields. Wreak havoc there. I'll see if I can't get our Pirate Queen to come quietly and peacefully... who knows, she might see sense."> The Hapan's words drift over comms as he offers a very hidden grin to Hadrix, the Hapan's helm obscuring the Hapan's features. But the grin can likely be heard in those words. <"Happy hunting my friend! I might well need your help, so go quick and do what you do best... and Karlie, you can come with me or go with our friend 'ere, your skills are useful both ways I should imagine... though before we part ways... give us control of the elevators if you will, lets deny our eenemy the freedom of movement they have enjoyed for too long."> The guidance offered to both Karlie and Hadrix, with Rieve taking a moment to reload his pistol and lean against the entryway for a second.

Krutur growls as the fire fight continues, he takes aim and fires again to no avail this shot at least just barely misses its mark. "rwarrl rwarrl?" He calls to Calia glancing her way before returning his focus to the battle. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "You Ok?"

Rieve points at Bizz, head-tilts, grins brightly. "What say you and I head into the heart of this beast."

Bizz waddles quickly to the turbolift, not wanting to wait around for any battle droids to open that door across the way. Anticipating close quarters fighting, the monk takes a small baton from his belt and pries it apart, causing it to end up in three pieces connected by cords of energy.

'Wreck havoc'

Alor'Kora might have suggested that the Hapan just let a rancor out of it's cage. Head turning towards Karlie when she's directed, the big man says, <<"Go with the rest, they might need you in the command center...">>

The big man keeps pace with the rest until they get to the lifts. <<"Tell me when you have her.">> bite tabbing to go to comms with the Ghost, <<"General, let me know if the civilians are all aboard.">>

Waiting for the command center crew to pile in and move on their way - waiting with the open 'outer' lift door for them to pass before he steps out to plummet, a wireframe on his HUD showing him the levels he is passing, waiting to fire jets.

And wreck havoc.

Karas hears over the comm that Calia has been hit, "ALright, copy that!" he calls out to Galen. He quickly brings his right hand up in a circular motion as he points at Calia and indicating that they need to surround her as they move, "COme one move!" he calls as he fires once, and quickly pops the empty battery pack and quickly puts in another and fires another shot, both shots strike their targets as he's moving his team towards the opposite hangar bay door.

"I--I'm fine."

In some ways, Calia looked distinctly /less/ fine than she had a moment ago. That blaster wound she took to her leg was no joke. The BB-droid beside her made another sad "DWOO" sound.

She wasn't about to leave her people to fight without her, though, and she was already sheathing her vibroknife and pulling her blaster pistol up so she could look around the corner when both Galen and Karas charged through the doorway -- one with a lightsaber, one with a blaster, both of them absolutely decimating the crew on the other side. She could hear it, even if she was still leaning up against that wall, the rapid-fire of the blaster and the VWOOO-VWOOO-VWOOO of the lightsaber cutting through the air.. and other things.

She was... kind of sorry she missed that, actually.

Meanwhile, TEAM ONE is advancing. The lift ride up to the command center is uneventful (significantly less adrenaline-educing, in any case, than Hadrix's free-fall into the lift-shaft afterwards.. though it's an admittedly quick way to get where he's going).

It's when the lift doors open that things get interesting.

Standing right outside the lift, in the short corridor whose sole purpose is to provide another layer of blast-door level protection between the lift and the command center, are four old B1 Battle Droids, their narrow faces showing definite signs of age and very faded blue paint.

"HEY!" one of them announces in his high-pitched whine -- the one with the pauldron on his shoulder. "You're not supposed to be here!"

All four of the battle droids lower their rifles at the occupants of the lift.

What this lift needed was music. Tinkly music. Instead it has a droid greeting him with a voice that just grates. So the hapan steps out of the lift, and just rams that thrumming vibrosword up through the droidfs chassis, sparks flying as the poor droid shudders and twitches and shakes and makes a most crumply noise. Rieve turns using the droid for cover as he saws the poor thing in half, blade cutting up through the most necessary parts, separating gizmos and gyros, wires and circuits, things and oojamabobs! And Rieve levels his pistol at one of the others and fires off a shot, slamming that red bolt home into the next droid along.

Finally Rieve pulls his blade free of the twitching and leaking and quite non-functional droid, before shouldering it over and advancing still. <"Onwards, we take the Queen alive... the others? Optional. But given a distinct lack of room aboard the Ghost, probably best not to arrest anyone, Calia will have my hide several times over."> The armoured Hapan stalks forward, putting a whole lot of faith in his armour to protect himself, and those behind him.

Bizz was mistreated terribly by droids during the Clone Wars, so seeing four battle droids at the top of the lift sets him ill at-ease. "No! Droidekas!" They aren't droidekas but sometimes he gets them confused. He sends one end of his dragonsnake staff through the first B1 battle droid's torso, then yanks it out and slashes the head off the second. The droids crackle with the white BZZZZZ ZZZZZZ ZZZZZT energy from his weapon before falling to the durasteel floor. Then Brother Bizz collects his staff and waddles toward the control room door.

All that frustration building in the nine foot tall wookie. He's angry, he's been missing every shot, one of his friends has been shot. He moves to join up with Galen and Karas to surround Calia. As he does so he raises his bowcaster again. "wrall rwarrl grarrrl wrall rwarrl rwowoal rwarrl rwal woeieowl rwal, wrall rwarrl grarrrl!" He snarls as he lines up his shot and fires! That powerful bolt flies out towards the poor hangar guard and poor is right the bolt hits the guard in the head taking it out leaving nothing but a very messy stump as the body crumbles to the floor. [Language: Shyriiwook]

Mini-Translator Droid - 5079 repeats after Krutur, "I'll get him if it's the last thing I do, I'll get him!"

As teh last enemy drops, Karas looks back to his team, "I'm going to move forward and see if it's clear and if our prize is there, make sure she's good, if someone has a medkit use it." he says as he moves quickly towards the door. He didn't want them getting jumped, they're in enemy territory and they have limited time. He goes up to the door and tries to get the doors open.

Firing his jets to hover should he need, or simply letting his anti-grav systems cushion the fall enough to only cause a distinctly severe rattling of his real and synthetic bones, Hadrix comes through the hatch with his hands forcing the doors open in a brazen disregard for if he is seen and fired upon.

He didn't need blasters.

Striding into engineering with all of the aplomb of a lordly magistrate moving through his demesne, head lowered, shoulders hunched and moving with a deadly purpose. Looking for the telltale shapes of power systems. That which looks like it shunts engine power for weapon systems specifically.

He didn't need blades or slug throwers.

One metal plated fist is struck into the palm of the other as he proceeds. Seeking enemies. Seeking targets to bring destruction.

He was the weapon.