Log:Outriders: Victims of Circumstance
The Outriders are recruited to rescue a group of innocent civilians that were captured as insurrectionists about to be transported to an Imperial prison camp.
OOC Date: October 20, 2023
Location: Iridonia
Participants: Calia, Hadrix Kora, Nels Ophiran, Wroshyrook
In the dense Iridonian jungle outside of Malidris City, where the Luxury 5000 Yacht "Highwayman" rests, the sun barely penetrates the thick canopy. The Outriders are huddled around a holographic map. Hours ago, they finished a high-risk infiltration mission, and the comms crackle to life with another urgent request: innocent Iridonian families have been caught up in the Empire's martial law sweep, and now they're being transported to an unknown location by the Imperial forces.
The Highwayman's internal lighting reveals Captain Calia, her youthful face in stark contrast with her seasoned, intense eyes. She shares the received intel: a group of prisoners is temporarily held at an old, pre-Empire landing pad awaiting transportation off-world. The Outriders' mission? Extract these prisoners before they're taken to a destination from which they may never return.
The known details are sparse. The landing pad is surrounded by a tall, electro-fence and is heavily guarded. At its center sits an Imperial transport shuttle -- a Lambda-class model -- imposing in its austere design. The prisoners are believed to be held inside, but specifics on their number, location, or condition remain a mystery.
The thick jungle offers a natural cover, but the Outriders are aware it's a double-edged sword: while it provides stealth, it can also hide threats. The clock is ticking, and the team knows they have limited time to gather more intel before making their move.
They're not completely in the dark, though. A local contact, a worker from the landing pad, has promised to leave them a weak point in the perimeter security. A map is sent with the coordinates of where to enter the facility, but trust is a luxury in these times, and the Outriders are wary of potential ambushes.
The team has arrived on 'borrowed' Imperial speeders that were left in the distance and crossed the rest of the way through the jungle on foot to a point some 100 meters or so from the 'weak point' in security they were supposed to encounter. That still hadn't been very clearly explained.
From here, the distant hum of the landing pad's electrical defenses is barely audible, but the Imperial transport shuttle, the Lambda-class model, casts a dark, predatory silhouette against the horizon. Even from a distance, its design, a mark of the Empire's oppressive reach, feels threatening.
The jungle around them, while providing cover, feels alive and watchful. Strange calls of exotic creatures punctuate the silence, a reminder of the unpredictable wilds of Iridonia. The dense foliage, although offering concealment, makes every rustle and movement a potential danger, forcing the Outriders to be constantly alert.
In the midst of all this crouches Captain Calia, her blonde locks cascading past her shoulders, her face a mask of determination and concern as she looks around at her team.
"Everyone set, locked, and loaded? Any questions?"
"grarrrl."
It's all Wook says as he crouches next to Calia, slowly unsheathing his blades and staying quiet. The Wookiee hugs a nearby tree, doing his best to stay in its shadow. He isn't sure why Calia asked him to join her on this specific mission. But if he was invited, he's fairly certain he knows what she needs done.
Wook takes a deep breath in, trying to catch the parts of the jungle he hasn't seen, tasting the humidity. Soon he will taste salt. [Language: Shyriiwook]
The brief briefing gets a nod from Nels. He hops aboard one of the speeders and easily enough flies to the dropoff point. Once he's off the speeder, he tugs out his carbine and loads a fresh powerpack into it, checking the settings, before he crouches down and waits for the people who are more comfortable with land fighting to take the lead. He's a pilot, after all. More comfortable in a cockpit than in a gunfight, but he seems competent enough with the weapon he carries. He sticks to the back of the formation, watching to make sure nobody sneaks up on the group from behind.
He wasn't part of their cause. In truth there was only one cause that he had any vested interest in, but credits are credits. Tucked away in the foliage - he wasn't privy to briefings, but he was directed to coordinates and the Warlord of Dxun was capable of navigating a variety of terrains.
So as Calia's little group was assembling, Hadrix Kora's comms clicked twice on the channels shared when she was making the offer for the maandalorian. He is hunkered up in the branches of a tree - a midnight purple shadow against the foliage. Sticking out like a sore thumb for those knowing where to look.
Possibly for casual observers too.
All the while preparing weapons, including a weapon from Kashyyyk.
It was easy enough to see, given everything they went to just to get to this spot, that the reason Wook was along was the same as the others -- these people needed help, and the Outriders (the formal members) did not number many. They were spread thin as it was. Some were still busy in Maldris City, helping the rebels there. Some were still at the Highwayman, keeping the Yacht safe and hidden for their return.
The rest were here.
Calia. Calia was here.
The others were piecemeal fighters that she could get her hands on for credits -- credits that she either 'liberated' from the Sith or earned herself by smuggling (sometimes for their cause.. sometimes on jobs that she had to hold her nose to get through.. but as has been mentioned.. sometimes credits are credits).
Calia's 'day job' paid her bills and supplemented the parts they needed to keep the Highwayman flying. It was a rough operation, but they were rebels.. this was the life. And they were doing good work.
They were rescuing families from the Sith before they could get to prison camps and labelled insurrectionists and traitors.
And everyone here had a purpose. Hadrix and Wook were the muscle. Calia was a slicer. Nels was a pilot. It was the four of them trying to get the prisoners out alive by whatever means they could.
"Alright, then. We're going to try to keep this quiet, but I doubt we're making it out of here without alarms going off. We can try to take the shuttle, but we don't have codes. We can try to get them to the speeders, but we don't know how many there are. There's going to be a lot of thinking on our feet. Al'Verde Kora," Calia turns her eyes to the Mandalorian, her pronunciation of his title fluent, though there was nothing about her that otherwise suggested she had any ties to the culture, "your reputation preceeds you. I trust your judgement to support the best way you can."
There's a nod of respect, then, from the young blonde woman, who turns to Wook and Nels.
"These are Imperial guarding the transport, inside." She pauses, focusing on Wook. "The same Imperials that are doing nothing but exploiting Kashyyyk for its resources and doing nothing but leaving your people on their own to fight the Trandoshans. Help me now, and I'll help you." She looks at Nels, grinning. "You're our way out of here.. by hook or by crook. Keep an eye out for anything you can drive. Trucks, ships, whatever. I don't know what we're going to have access to."
One last look around.
"Lets move."
And then she's doing exactly that, pulling up a little holo-map on her wrist with a glowing red dot that they were headed straight towards. Sure enough, it's a mostly darkened area, though in the ambient glow, the wire fence has been cut open at the bottom.
Just beyond, there are buildings with crates stacked up beside them and patrols of Stormtroopers -- two at a time -- walking different parts of the little landing facility.
Nels Ophiran gives another nod to Calia. He stays low though. Best not to get the pilot shot, but also, he sort of needs to do some shooting. The ex-mercenary seems to know how this is done. He keeps his eyes out, and then in the distance he sees a glint of light and some movement. He shifts a little to get a better view, and yup, two stormtroopers out on patrol approaching the group, "We've got two stormies walking toward us," he says, loud enough to be heard by Calia and Hadrix, but not much else. He gives a small motion to point to where the pair are, "Getting close," he adds. He inches back a bit in the foliage to stay a bit out of the trooper's view.
By whatever means.
It might be the most dangerous instruction to give the Mandalorian.
Even if Calia was stating they were going to try to do this quietly.
<<"If you want a distraction I can distract. If you mean you wish me to be silent I can accommodate.">> For the moment opting for quiet until they needed him to go loud, the massive long gun he carries limbered onto its place on his back and the rest of his, multitude, of arms given a momentary check over. Slipping to the ground without a sound, Hadrix touches down and is moving to avoid leaf litter and brush on approach in a half-crouch.
Approaching the closest, approaching, patrol noted by Nels and leaving any who've passed to continue on their way. The big man's right fist flexes, causing the vibrodagger contained in his vambrace to prime and ready to extend.
"Let's get closer before we set off the fireworks..."
It's a hiss of an instruction, more for Hadrix, but she glances briefly back at Nels. Then her gaze is up on the troopers that he'd pointed out walking towards them. The dark and the distance still concealed them for now, but that wouldn't last long. If they kept sitting here, the troopers would literally trip right over them.
"Ophiran, hold. Hadrix." She points to her eyes and then at the guards on the outside -- don't let them raise the alarm, if it comes to it.
And then Calia moves in through the hole in the fence, cutting through an errant shaft of light, though the darkness of her stealth suit obscures her. Now inside the little landing pad compound, she takes up a spot behind some crates, still in the dark, where she can peek over at the landing pad and get a better view of the guards around.
She waits, looks around to make sure no one is watching, and then waves both of them forward to join her.
He's quick to follow orders, so that's something. Nels moves to follow Calia, slipping through the gap in the fence, just a little behind the woman. It's not the quietest maneuver he's ever pulled off, but it gets him through, and it doesn't appear that he's attracted any attention right off the bat at the very least. He occasionally takes a peek back towards where the Stormtroopers are approaching where he's somewhat certain Hadrix is waiting for them.
Keep them quiet.
The targeting whip on his helmet drops over his visor and Hadrix's left arm flexes, the vambrace opening and a micro-launcher is exposed with a trio of darts crafted from Mandalorian Iron extend.
That Calia isn't using comms indicates for him that she won't hear him speak - so he is left to giving the barest of nods while targeting brackets begin to form on the Stormtroopers he is watching.
Just a little closer. Jaw clenching in the confines of his helmet he waits and resists the urge to nod again when the outlines of each trooper goes green.
Ready to fire.
- Click*
< "Did you hear that?" >
One of the stormtrooper's helmet modulators clicks on as he turns to face the other.
< "Let's go check it out." >
They pick up the pace, trotting towards the spot where two of them, unseen, have already slipping through the fence. They don't seem to see the big man already stalking them like a predator in the night... waiting.
.... Meanwhile, Calia's next to Nels, making sure she has his attention and then pointing up and around the compound. There's another set of two stormtroopers like the ones they'd just slipped past walking the inside of the compound, and two more at the entrance gate (one of which has a fancy 'Captain' color pauldron, for those in the know), but it's really nothing more than a guard shack that the wire fence connects to. It controls a horizontal bar to keep people from driving in until it's raised. What's the bar made out of? Who knows! It /looks/ solid.
In the middle is the raised landing platform where the lambda shuttle sits. There's one guard standing at the bottom of it talking to what must be the pilot -- a woman with sharp features and short, slicked back hair. The ramp is lowered, but they can't see inside the ship from here.
On the other side of the compound are two covered hover-trucks that are being unloaded into what appears to be a storage out building by un-armored workers that... may or may not be civilian. They're not wearing an Imperial uniform, at least.
"Can you drive a truck?" Calia hisses to Nels.
A moment later, the trooper and the pilot at the bottom of the ramp part ways, and the pilot starts walking towards where Calia and Nels are hiding. She pulls him back into hiding behind the crates, obscuring them both from view.
Nels Ophiran nods once in response to the question as he settles in next to Calia, as he's pulled backwards. He sinks a little lower to better obscure himself, and then waits. Now is not the time to go running around blasting things. It's the time to let the professionals do their job while he provides covering fire...if need be.
A pair of dart rockets surge from the darkness spinning through foliage and seeking the stormtroopers that near where the mandalorian hunkers. It's not ideal firing conditions - the one smashed into by a dart that had been knocked from its center of mass seeking trajectory and slamming into a shoulder pauldron to spin the trooper on one foot.
The other is caught by moving brush and buries itself into the ground to spew up clods of soil and loam when it detonates - the flashes illuminating the hulking form and sending iridescent washes of shifting color over his plates.
<"You should run..."> the voice growling over his vocalizer filled with a liquid, animal, growl.
Calia nods her acknowledgement to Nels of his answer and then presses her finger to her lips. It was pointless. He was already being quiet. But, if she didn't and he got jumpy, she'd kick herself (assuming she survived long enough to).
And so the two of them wait as that pilot draws nearer and nearer, rounding the corner of their crates, completely unsuspecting of their presence...
..and by the time the woman spots them, it's too late. Calia's already slide the vibrating blade she was holding in her hand into the woman's neck. Two swift cuts stop her from making a sound and finish the job, and she guides the pilot smoothly to the ground without making a sound, pulling the body out of the way.
Meanwhile...
< "WHAT THE--" >
It was the blur of motion that had caused one the the troopers to draw up short, almost tripping over himself as he stepped backwards, but the dart was too fast for him, knocking him off balance when it hit, spinning him and sending him to the ground, but he was already getting back up, trying to get to a knee to get into firing position.
The other -- the more senior of the two -- had been missed entirely and was not nearly as staggered by the darts. He /was/ however, staggered by the giant, predatory figure of Mandalorian in the dark that was made even more ominous by the flashes that glinted on his armor and the low growl of his voice.
< "INTRUDER SOUTH WALL." > The rifle was already coming up at Hadrix, even as the trooper took a few, fearful steps backwards, fumbling the grip and just firing off a hit at random. < "Stop right there!" >
One thing that Nels has learned in his years of working in paramilitary outfits is that you don't open fire until you're told to do so by a superior. If they screw it up, it's not your fault. If you fire too early and give away the game....well...then you're liable to get chewed out or worse by an irate commander later. Nels does not seem surprised or bothered by the Imperial officer going down, but the call of an Intruder at the south wall makes him shift a little to draw a bead from his carbine on the trooper standing at the bottom of the ramp.
Approaching steadily while the fired blasterbolt quite literally bounces off his chest to smash into the ground with a screech, Hadrix's right arm comes up, pilot light igniting with a bend of his wrist and then flame is belched with a squeeze of his fist. Fire rolling over the trooper and accelerant coating their chest plate.
<"Should have run..."> growled out, his next step awkward looking when the tubes along one knee extend and a single rocket-dart hisses out to bury itself in the chest of the trooper rising to his feet, detonating with a wet thump that kicks them over onto their back.
<<"Control. Sighted. Drawing fire.">>
The trooper sergeant was actually lining up a real shot when he was suddenly engulfed in flames and started screaming, the plastoid armor probably melting.. or at least.. it felt like it was melting from the inside. He suddenly started patting himself, trying to put it out, and threw himself on the ground.
The other trooper simply died when the rocket hit him, 'thunking' into his chest. He didn't even have a chance.
Alarms. Alarms started going off on both sides of the compound, and everyone started going on alert.
The two troopers that were patrolling the inside of the compound went rushing towards the south wall, rifles already raised and firing through the fence towards a target they hadn't yet acquired.
"Yeah... you are," Calia mutters softly after Hadrix's statement about 'drawing fire,' but not into the comms. She had them. She was listening. She just wasn't on them. Maybe it was part of 'being a slicer.' That constant paranoia that someone's sliced into and is listening to your comms. Or.. at least.. that they know you're there because of the extra EM emissions. Either way, she was pretty low tech, in general, for being a slicer.
She put her hand on Nels' shoulder, steadying him until the guards were past them, racing towards Hadrix. The Captain from the guard shack was moving that way, too, but he was holding his random fire, scanning intently for the target to get a better shot. None of them looked like they were interested in shouting orders or taking another prisoner, at this point.
There was still one guard left, keeping his post at the guard shack. And there was still that guard at the end of the ramp, guarding the shuttle.
Once the other guards are past them, after Hadrix, Calia takes her hand off of Nels' shoulder.
"Take the shot."
The tap on his shoulder is enough to get Nels firing and he squeezes off a shot at the somewhat unsuspecting guard at the base of the shuttle. But, he misses by a few inches, the bolt instead zipping past the soldier and off across the landing pad that the shuttle sits on. Nels grimaces just a little bit, but continues to hold his aim, waiting for his next opportunity to strike,
Pushing forward, the big man takes the opportunity of the stormtrooper's personal prerogative to extinguish himself to drive one metal plated fist into the heat-soften plastoid shell of the surviving trooper's chestplate. Pulling himself in close to hook his fingers into the collar of the armor and draw in with his helmet surging forward to bring his helmet in.
Hadrix never believed in the idea that no one wins a head butt. And that thing deep down in the pit of the man was cajoling him to go back to the 'good old days', punctuated by the crack of Mandalorian Iron smashing into plastoid with a crack that splits the dome, forcing the other back and drawing the big man in with a heavy step. Head ducked and shooting forward again with a crunching sound of armor and internal components being melded with flesh and bone, blood pouring from beneath and smoking body left to fall.
The Boar-Wolf of Ealor continues to walk forward, stepping over the body and looking for enemies. He needs enemies.
While Hadrix is bludgeoning the poor sergeant into a stormtrooper paste just outside of the fence and the approaching guards are getting closer, clearer shots on him, Calia is right behind Nels, watching and waiting... holding her breath... observing. Hoping.
Unfortunately, the shot goes wide, and just as the stormtrooper turns in the direction of the muzzle blast that fired at him, Calia's hand goes for the blaster still in its quick-draw holster, yanking it out and firing twice in one smooth move.
Both shots hit the trooper in the torso and he crumbles onto the ground.
"Don't sweat it, kid. Get that truck ready to go," Calia says. She's already on her feet, running for the landing platform and the ramp of the shuttle.
ALMOST everyone else was focused on Hadrix, but as Calia takes off across the yard, that gate guard gets a shot off towards her... that luckily hits the ground behind her as she's running.
Trucks are neat, but he's a pilot. And pilots like to fly things. Plus, it'll save a step instead of moving captives across an open landing field while stormtroopers open fire on civilians. So, after a moment's consideration, he's off on a sprint towards the shuttle as well. "Let's get her flying! I can get us out of here!" he calls to Calia as he chases after her, right up the ramp to the shuttle. He completely does not think of the pilot laying on the ground, probably holding the proverbial keys to the ship.
The report of blaster bolds ricocheting from the chest plate of the Mandalorian is a siren song for the old anger. That rage that boils beneath the surface.
'Nine-Oh-four! You weren't shot! YOU WERE PROVOKED' the drills voice is brought to the forefront. He knows where it's coming from. The part that howls for blood and demands he let it loose impacts with the old training, the instruction quite literally beaten into him from the day he could walk. Take the anger. Take the pain. Focus it. Make it a razor.
'What are you doing NINE-OH-FOUR!?'
His stride lengthens out into a loping run for the troopers firing on him and his hands dip cross-draw to pull a pair of pistols from his body. Both revolvers of a sort, developed by cultures with a love for things considered 'analogue'... if one liked to mix modern with archaic.
Cylinder of the Morellian revolver rolling in a series of rattling clicks along a bone lined bandolier on his chest before it crashes and the solid slug of the pistol bursts out of the back of the stormtrooper's helmet in a shower of plastoid and gore even when the cross drawn wookiee pistol goes off, hurtling a cobalt blue star into the gut of the other, punching them backwards and doubling them over to fall to the ground in a burning heap with a plasma sheathed durasteel bolt lodged in their stomach.
He keeps running, hasn't slowed, looking towards the commander in the field with both sidearms swiveling like turret mounts.
The sound he issues a short, sharp, bark sound. A threat. A challenge.
The moral of the story?
If you're walking into a fight, always bring a Mandalorian with you. The Captain, obviously confident in his own abilities, was steadily advancing on Hadrix, rifle held against his shoulder as he bore down.
The inside of the Lambda-class shuttle had obviously been set up as a prisoner transport. There were energy cages full of people that, as soon as Calia and Nels rushed up the ramp, all rushed to the edges and pointed at the controls.
There was screaming and begging, a cacophony of voices as everyone pleaded to be let out. Of course, letting them out meant freeing them to go run into an on-going fire-fight or, possibly worse, Iridonia's jungles on foot at night.
Despite the sympathy that Calia felt for them, she didn't rush for the controls to open the containment fields. She turned back to look at Nels, grinning at him.
"/This/ thing?! You're a maniac.. and you have /way/ more confidence in my ability to get this bird flying than I do.. but you know what? Why not.. it'd save us a drek-load of work.."
She shoved the blaster back into its holster, re-sheathed her vibro-blade.
"See if you can get them calmed down? I'll let you know in a minute..."
And then she's headed into the cockpit, pulling a datapad out of a mesh pocket of her uniform as she went.
Nels Ophiran stays at the top of the ramp, looking down it as he waits for confirmation from Calia that she's got the ship at least open to the possibility of flight. He calls to the people in the cages, "Quiet! Calm down! We are here to rescue you. We're going to fly you out of here." He kneels to get a better view outside, to determine just how many stormtroopers are charging at them right this instant. As it looks clear, he calls back, "We ready to get out of here?" to where Calia has run off to to slice into the ship.
Bearing down on the command captain, Hadrix's fingers squeeze the firing stud of the G8 putting another bright blue bolt downrange with a Morellian slug chasing it in the same instant that the trooper's blaster bolt strikes his forehead, forcing his advance to a sudden arrest and rocking his head back.
The second shot from the revolver hitting a wall while the durasteel bolt and its initial traveling companion strike one side of the chest and then the other. The red clad commander halted in his advance as something breaks.
'He shot us in the face.'
Head coming back down slowly before it sinks into hunching shoulders, something snaps and the big man's arms are thrown wide, the sound coming from the vocalizer speakers in his helmet distorting and warbling it. Breaking as the pitch grows too much for them.
And he begins sprinting directly for the stormtrooper.
Looooook... slicing takes time. This isn't one of those 'you just plug it in and you're in' kinda deals. This is reality. In reality, getting through the complex layers of security that the IMPERIALS put on their shuttlecraft to keep them from just walking off of the landing pads requires effort. It requires an /expert/ , top-notch slicer, who even still could take hours or days or even....
"We're in!"
There's beeping and a sudden illumination of controls all around the cockpit.
Calia yanks connection back out of the data port and tucks it back into her vest.
"This was /your/ idea. Get up here and fly this thing. Leave the ramp down until Hadrix decides whether not he's joining."
And finally.. FINALLY... Calia actually reaches up to her earpiece and taps it.
<< "Al'Verde Kora, we're prepping the shuttle. You coming with us?" >>
Of course, she didn't realize that at that /very/ moment, Al'Verde Kora was, in fact, hunched over and charging at one /very/ hurt-looking Stormtrooper Captain while the singular gate guard that was left watched in horror.
"I'd hop in a turret if I were you, it's gonna get interesting if I know anything about the Imperials." Nels says as he brushes past Calia, running into the cockpit. He slides into the seat at the controls and starts flicking switches and pushing buttons to get the ship to run through it's warmup and startup operations. "Bout thirty seconds to liftoff if I've got this right...." It would seem that he's pretty good at this 'flying a ship' thing as whatever process he goes through gets the ship humming quickly.
Blade extending from his bracer, the big man smashes into the stormtrooper like a repulsor truck, blade slamming into their chest and hefting them off of their feet and carrying them along, his other arm wrapping around the captain's waist to hold them close while the Mandalorian's roar continues to rise.
The reinforced shell of the crimson actually sparking from the durasteel fibers that impregnate the mid-layers of thermokinetic dampening material before the tip goes up, between neck and rim of the helm to sink into the soft flesh behind the chin - the sudden dead weight dragging Hadrix's arm down and then pulling the big man to the ground in a rag-doll roll when his feet go out from under him and the pair tangle like lovers in the dirt.
<<"Take off. Keep the ramp open. I'll be along.">> gritted out, the voice utterly inhuman. It's Hadrix. But it's not. It's something else but the man in the same.
"/Now/ who's giving orders," Calia quips, grinning and following after him. Instead of going /to/ a turret, she slides down into the co-pilot's seat and starts flipping some controls of her own -- namely, pulling firing control of the turrets into her purview from the front-seat controls. Fancy Imperial stuff instead of sitting in a ball-turret like the lower-tech tramp freighters.
"On it. But look, I know what I said about slicing, but I mean it this time.. turret control is /not/ my favorite pastime."
It had been a few seconds before Hadrix had responded to her question, and since they hadn't been able to see up the ramp of the ship from their position, she reasoned that she /should/ be able to see Hadrix out the cockpit.
So, while Nels was giving everything cranked up, Calia leaned up to crane her head over the dash and search for...
Oh, God.
That's... so brutal.
And now she can't unsee it.
She sits back down in her chair, and purses her lips.
<< "Copy." >>
"At your discretion," she says, nodding over at Nels.
"Will do," Nels replies, though he makes no comment about not going to go hang out in the actual turret versus using the shoot by wire system. He's a pilot, he undoubtedly has Opinions on it. But, he's got the ship lifting off and on a heading pointed almost straight up into the atmosphere, "Tell our Mandalorian friend he's got twenty seconds before the booster is warmed enough that I can punch us up to the upper atmosphere in an instant. Don't think his suit is rated for that altitude." The launch isn't the smoothest ever, but he's also a bit distracted as he starts to boot up the astrogator, and is trying to get the shield system charging.
Forcing himself up, blade still embedded in the trooper's head when he stands - the ship making for atmosphere is watched - systems calculating and he lifts off on wings of fire. Hurled into the air and towards the escaping craft.
This suit of armor wasn't rated for the upper atmosphere. And the shuttle was rapidly reaching for 'breath held' distances. Why was he dragging. Part of him forgot about the body he was pulling, refused to let go of. Continued to hold onto and when frost began to form over the metal of his helm, he squeezed with his other hand to put the emergency thrust online. Holstering his wookiee pistol while the morellian was in a death grip and his bracer knife remained hooked in.
Carried up and forward to walk onto the ramp, dragging his prize who was held onto long enough to withdraw the dagger before it was swiped with a shriek of hypersonic vibrating metal through bone... and all but the head was set to tumble into open air. The prize gripped tight.
<<"Aboard...">> slapping the ramp close button as he passes it.
Nels wasn't wrong. He /did/ know the Empire.
The Lambda-shuttle was barely off the ground before proximity alerts started flashing and alarms started sounding.
Three ships incoming. Fast.
"Looks like you were right," Calia says, reaching out to adjust the sensors, bringing up the targets one-by-one while Nels was working on getting them space-bound. They were all regular TIE/fos, left over from the First Order supply, no doubt. "Three contacts coming in hot..."
<< "Hadrix, not to rush you..." >>
But her voice had barely trailed off before she'd gotten his confirmation that he was aboard. The light on the console that indicated the ramp was closing changed from red to yellow to green. The pressure in the shuttle changed as it sealed.
Then the comms came to life.
<< "Imperial Shuttle Jay-Six-Three-Seven, an incident was reported at your pad. You have new orders. Transmit pilot credentials and follow us." >>
Even as, presumably, one of the TIEs is issuing that order, one of them takes the lead just in front of the nose of the Lambda-class shuttle while the other two circle around, trying to get behind.
"Your call," Calia says. She might have known what she was doing on the ground, but this was different. She wasn't a fighter pilot.
<<Roger that, thanks for getting here so quick. Rebels hit the landing pad, we only just got out with our lives. Transmitting credentials, one moment.>> Nels says into the comm. While he does so, he lets the ship drift just a bit, letting the forward guns line up a shot. Once it's there, he pulls the trigger on the guns. They fire a pair of green bolts at the TIE, which skitter just wide, before he slams the throttle to full and zooms into the space his shots have made as the TIE rolls out of the way. "Your turn to shoot at them, I'm going to start calculating our jump out of here." Of course, as he says this the two TIEs who he DIDN'T shoot at open fire. But they seem startled and their return fire does not connect with the suddenly very speedy shuttle.
Fortunately or unfortunately, after Nels' feigned innocence held up long enough to get a shot lined up, there was suddenly /lots/ of shooting and /not/ a lot of hitting on anyone's part. On the bright side of things, everyone was still alive, and they were /that/ much closer to hitting hyperspace...
... which might or might not be what these people /wanted/ , being taken away from their homes and their families, but at the moment, it was the only choice they had.
Calia's suddenly focused on the controls, trying to track the outline of one of the TIE fighters on her display and line up the shot, squeezing the trigger /just/ too soon and missing by a /lot/ less than she expected.
"Working on it," she sighs.
Moving to one of the jump seats, unless called on to work a turret, Hadrix settles in. The battered, bloody, crimson helmet peeled off of the head and thrown to one side like a discarded warra nut shell. The trophy casually inspected, lifted and studied for any damage done during the 'removal' and the moments before.
<<"Pheegus.">>
<<"Al'Verde?">> the mechanical, synthesized voice of an ithorian translator collar blending with the lowing, groaning, sounds of its speech coming through in response on Hadrix's comm circuit.
<<"Lambda shuttle. Woor'tra ba'slan shev'la.">> strategic disappearance.
<<"Elek, Al'Verde.">>
Somewhere, a VCX turned into a blockade runner takes off, angling away from the signal source of where Hadrix is.
"Give them a little more lead..." Nels says to Calia as he fiddles with the astrogation computer, "Uh, Nar Shaddaa ok?" he asks, before he punches in the coordinates anyways. Maybe they have to fight off another ambush when they get there, but right now 3 v 1 TIE Fighters vs shuttles is not his preferred game. He turns back to the stick just in time to see a TIE turning in on him. He cuts around to the side, just barely ducking a spray of shots headed their way, before he rolls back inside, dodging the other fighter's attack. "Jumping as soon as I get confirmation," he says, glancing down at the computer.
"I'm... trying," Calia growls, the frustration evident in her voice. She was SO CLOSE to blowing one of those DREKKING EYEBALLS (not too unlike the one she had parked back in their hangar...)
"Yeah. Fine. Just don't take us in to Dawnrise. Take us in to Gearhead. We'll... figure it out when we get there."
The TIEs were swarming them, laser fire lancing past the forward viewport like colors dancing across the ever-blackening sky as they got farther and farther out of the atmosphere... into space.. and away from the pull of the planet's gravity.
And yet.. in all of that.. not a single blast hit them -- even flying a /shuttle/ .
Calia glances up from her turret controls for a moment, smiling.
"Nice flying, Ace... keep this up and I might see if we can get our hands on an X-Wing for you to zoom around in.."
A moment later, the light illuminated on the console. The hyper-space jump was calculated and ready.
"Eh, these guys aren't that good. Backwater garrison pilots. Probably fifty year olds who are just doing this for the cool uniforms and free drinks." Nels says as the light comes on and he reaches forward to pull the lever for the hyperdrive. In a moment the shuttle shudders, and then the stars streak towards them, and they are shot into hyperspace. Nels leans back in his seat and exhales, "We'll be to Nar Shaddaa in about thirty minutes. Nothing to it."
