Log:Rebels of the Sacred Heart

Rebels of the Sacred Heart

OOC Date: February 16, 2016
Location: Y'Toub System
Participants: Sinya, Gren Delede, Snap Wexley, Jax Greystorm, Maeve Zavir

The mission was simple, get bacta safely to the Waywards and Mae's Wayside clinic, to get bacta to the denzens of the planet and Mae's reduced price clinic. That and there was some intel traded. So Sinya had a load of bacta to fill a tank and was jumping in from a smuggler route she knew that had brought her from Thyfferia. No sooner than she did a pair of Y-wings two seaters with ion Canons and a pair of T-65 X-wings white with black trim begin to fly toward her freighter. Their markings were that of a pirate group that's been operating in the shadow of smugglers moon called the 'Null Pirates.' The S-foils of the X-wings locking into attack position. The lead X-wing hailing Sinya, " Freighter Firith, Power down and prepare to be boarded. You have jumped into Null Pirate territory and must pay a tribute before continuing into system. Any signs of resistance and you will be destoryed."

Blue 1 and Blue 2 had took a roundable trip from D'Qar. Though some hotshot Astrogation they had arrived with 30 seconds of the Firith. Jax coms to Snap, "Blue 2 reporting in. Everything seems green on systems. That was some fancy math Blue 1. Never came in this close to all the junk." He calls back to his R2 unit. "Exine you got Firith on scope?" The droid wobbles at him.

The simple missions are always the ones where things go wrong; Sinya knows that, and so she isn't -too- surprised when she's hailed. "Fracking pirates." she mutters under her breath before she keys open the radio. Gotta buy time until her escort arrives, "Null Pirates? Huh...haven't heard of you boys before." the twi'lek offers in her friendliest, and purposely minorly flirty, tone. She opens her mouth to add more time-killer when her sensos tell her the cavalry is here. A grin is flashed at her controls, and she continues, "I'm afraid my dance cards full, gents, but I -do- have a gift for you. But it's not tribute."

"Blue 2, I am pretty certain you could have gotten us here just as well as I did, and with a few more years you'll be calling all the shots." Snap calls over the comm unit to his second. "Im reporting no problems as yet, Blue 2." Snap checks over all the controls and monitors on his x-wing and then calls to his own r2 unit. "Anything showing up on the radar?" Snap awaits the response. "Blue 2, it appears that perhaps Firith has some guests, are you reading that?"

Last Call is en route to the Smuggler's Moon, returning from an escort mission of its own. Gren Delede is in the cramped cockpit of the vintage blue and white A-wing, with his legs asleep, and in desperate need of a squirt. The radio crackling, and military style callsigns has him quirking his brow, and staring at the speaker. A quick check of the channel being used, and there is a blink. He doesn't speak up, or interrupt, but the old Rebel starts to scan his sensors, and vector in one what appears to be a nice little cluster of starfighter sized sensor blips. A roll of his shoulders to loosen them up, and he punches the throttle, sending the small hot-rod of a starfighter burning toward whatever has piqued his interest.

Stim addicts, the lot of 'em, makes for grossly colorful humour and channel chatter ripe with obscene invective and foul tempers at the most random of moments. The four pirates loitering in this part of 'known space' are loosely referred to as the Null Pirates (also known as BO Quartet - That's short or Body Odor, of course. And for their BO to actually be NOTICED and remarked upon, and equally for these four miscreants to have decided to embrace this as the name of their happy little gang, says something rather alarming about the general odor emanating from these four.) The Null Pirates, as pungent as they are, have connections in all the worst and wrong places, ties to the most inopportune of locations and a collective ear to the ground where no one ought to be listening. As likely as they are to be seen in a drunken heap in the corner of some fifth rate dive as they are to be found jockeying about and raiding random shipments, the pilots (if they can be called pilots) never do anything unless it might net them a fast dirty profit, spoil someones day or see something go up in a fiery cough of flame in space. HOW they found out that something was incoming to the smugglers moon is as much as mystery as not, though considering how they're as likely to raid EACH OTHER as they are anyone else, the comm response to Sinya's reply was full of coarse laughter and propositions as the quartet continue to arrow closer, sliding through the cold vacuum of space and homing in on the sweet target that Sinya's cargo promises to be.

Jax chuckles, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Blue 1." He checks his sensors, "My R2 is reporting two y-wings and a couple of T-65. Damn shame a couple of those old birds ended up in pirate hands. My old man would be puking his guts out seeing this. You heard the lady, guess it time to say suprise. I got your wing boss." He says pulling the leaver on his S-foil, his T-70 wings snapping into a X. "I'll keep the X-wings off you and we give her a chance to run." Jax brings his X-wing in for a shot at the T-65 designated Scum 2. His laser canons annoucning his presence as he starts to strip shields off the X-wing. Though the Pirate pilot was better than Jax would and dances out of the way. The fight was on.

Sinya ignores the invitations (Who in their wrong mind would even consider saying yes to any of those!?) and promptly offers her gift. She opens fire - seems the twi'lek is more than just a decent pilot, she's a pretty damn good shot as well. Hitting her target and scattering it into a bajillion pieces in space, accompanied by the necessary belt of flame and sparks as the ship explodes, she chirps over the radio, "Happy life day, fellows!" Shot given, she pulls hard to the side - she probably -should- run, but for now, she'll stay and fight...and run if she has to.

Getting his own x-wing into attack mode, Snap targets in on the first ship to pass over his radar, it just so happens to be some foul-smelling Y-wing pilot. Snap, because he can and wants to, patches into the comm activity with the thugs. "Knock knock." Snap calls over the comm before suddenly lighting up the idiot of a Y-wing pilot without really much trouble. "Blue 2, one Y-wing is out..." And then alarm bells begin to go off in his ship. "I have an X-wing on my tail, evasive maneuvers." Blue 1 immediately goes into a barrel roll and coming out of it he pulls hard on the throttle, speeding up to top speed and shooting straight up, but the X-wing on his tail seems to be doing well enough to keep on his tail, his ship shudders violently. "Im hit, shields are down."

Oh look. Fan, meet shit. Last Call's pilot pushes his little bird just a bit hard, drawing every drop of engine power out of the oversized set that she carries. "Friendly A-wing incoming, Blue Flight...." A very Imperial sounding voice crackles over the old Rebel channel that they've been using. A very brief moment later, and the equally old Rebel starfighter zips into the furball, lasers announcing his presence with a little more oomph. The lasers impact the shields on the X-wing chasing down Blue 1, doing a fair bit of damage. A moment later, and a pair of concussion missiles enter the fray...and then leave it, along with the Null Pirate that's doing such a fine job making Snap's shields crackle and pop. Shrapnel, and a cloud of expanding gas replace body odor and adult language. "You're clear unknown X-wing." Delede slows just a hair, checking his own tail.

Apparently, she didn't fly fast enough, "Some shield damage, some minor hull damage...I'm gonna make this quick, gents - and let's get home." she murmurs after a brief moment of creative twi'lek curses. Keying off the radio, she comes round and dispatches the last lonely pirate. Ka-blooey! Tribute that!

Numero Uno Null or Scum 3 was giving Blue two a devil of a time and caused him to break off support of Blue 1 as the Last Call shows up. His shields melting away as he jukes and trades shots with the enemy T-65. " Thanks Last Call. I get the feeling the next time I'm in town the drinks are on me." He says as he pulls a tight talon roll lining up a shot only to see space dust. He sighs, "This close Exine. This close." Then he calls on channel to Sinya, "Fancy shooting. Looks like your path is clear."

"Who's in the A-wing?" Snap calls over to Jax on their comm units. Regardless of whoever it is, the snap piloting, get it, snap? piloting of the A-wing has saved their asses a bit as both of the x-wings take damage and it would've been a closer call on the whole combat situation in the long run. "Thanks, Last Call, but you didnt see us." Blue 1 calls over his comm to the A-wing. He begins plugging in some calculations into the astrogate module and calls back to Jax. "Blue 2, ready for jump?" Snap slows out of combat speed and there's a moment of hesitation in case Jax calls over with a sudden 'wait!' call. "Drinks are on me, Last call." Blue 1 suddenly almost appears to come to a stop before it blips off into a hyperspace jump.

"Gren Delede. I never buy drinks." And, that seems to be the extent of what Gren has to say. The A-wing, with the pirates destroyed, turns toward Nar Shaddaa, taking it nice and slow. Last Call shows signs of old combat damage, but seems to have taken none in the brief encounter. And, as the X-wings disappear into hyperspace, there is a smile behind his helmet's visor. "Just like old bloody times. Those were the days." He begins to whistle, as h heads for home.

Blue 2 pulls his s-foils into a locked position. "I'll let the man introduce himself, Blue 1. And it looks like the transport is free and clear. So lets get out of here." Jax's X-wing enters into hyper space leaving Sinya to make contact on the Smugglers moon and trade out the bacta.

Waiting at the hangar and keeping almost all of her attention focused on the ships sensors that are feeding intel to the datapad that she's holding, Mae is pacing the perimeter of the landing space while anxiously watching the traffic that's angling to and from the spaceport itself. Without any manner of piloting skills, she listens with half an ear as the protocol droid that's waiting patiently at the far side of the path she is pacing translates the action into the most rudimentary of terms. "It would appear, doctor, that a single ship is making a final approach to this hangar." Mae turns toward Jane (Protocol droid extraordinare) and hurries over, "Really? You're sure?" to which Jane replies, "Affirmative. If the plotted trajectory holds true, of course. Plus or minus three percent for variables and probability."

And the ship in question -does- maintain its course and, moments later, appears in view before settling down in the landing space. The ship's hull has some fresh, albeit minor, marks on it from its brief interruption in space. It's a simple task, landing, and shortly there after the ship is powering down and the ramp opening to reveal the purple skinned twi'lek.

Waiting until the ship powers down and the ramp opens, Mae hurries over, a wide smile on her face as she approaches, "Hello the ship and welcome, most welcome, to Nar Shaddaa." She offers one hand extended toward the purple skinned twi'lek, "Fancy bit of flying there. Did everyone make it ok?"

"Just me," Sinya offers, flashing a smile as she steps down the ramp onto the ground. "Got a delivery here for a Mae?" she asks, as if she were simply a delivery person on a normal run. "You, I'm hoping?"

With a laugh, Mae nods, "Yeah, that's me. Maeve Zavir," she supplies, "I run the clinic here on Nar Shaddaa. I can't thank you enough for doing this. I know it was a team effort sort of thing, but it means a lot to me."

Sinya shrugs slightly as she tilts her head slightly to the left. "No idea what kind of effort - I was hired to make a run. Creds were right, so...i took the job." She motions behind her to the bowels of her ship and continues; "You'll need help unloading."

"But of course," Mae replies with a mild nod and schools her expression away from the one of absolute delight and relief to one of a more serious, somber, business like look. Mostly. She turns and signals for her droid and several other porter droids to approach the ship. "If you'll direct us where, we'll get that sorted promptly."

Sinya isn't exactly dour herself; she is, however, wanting to make it clear that she's just the intermediary here. "I'm sure whoever sent this knows...they paid handsomely to get it here, and quickly. In my experience, people don't pay that kinda cred unless they are happy to do whatever it is." She gives a quick explaination of where the bacta is located to the droids. "So a clinic huh? Always good to know where one of these are.

One of the droids guides a top notch hover sled into position and unspools a number of tie downs, cables and tarps, revealing a sign marked 'Biohazard Waste Removal' with several shields displaying hazardous materials. Mae observes for a scrutinizing moment before she exhales a sigh of relief as Jane takes over the material management. "Most people don't pay handsomely unless they really want the thing they're paying for, or they really want something NOT to happen," said with a wry tone of humor in her voice before she nods. "Yeah. My clinic is in the Corellian district, can't miss it. We're the only establishment open all day and night that doesn't serve booze or food."

Sinya ahs softly, and flashes another bright grin. "I'll have to look for it next time a deal goes bad," she teases as she quickly steps to the side to be away from the path of the unloading. "The Corellian district? Interesting choice...and I understand that the payment includes my silence.."

"Well, I considered a place in the Hutt district. But then I'd have to build a tank large enough to lower a Hutt into. Can you IMAGINE the mental image of a corpulent Hutt in a giant bath tub, just for starters? Now imagine one coated in bacta," Mae shakes her head subtly, her hands tucking into her front pockets as she rocks subtly heel to toe and back. "That just wouldn't be cost effective. Plus the 'protection racket' would eat me out of house, home, and every single square ounce of medical supplies I'd ever get to planet in the first place." She rolls her eyes slightly, "So. Corellian district was the best, logical choice. Plus, spacers and adventurers and pilots and mercenaries of all types tend to amble on through. It's a good location."

Sinya shudders and, with a disgusted blech look on her face, she shakes her hands and head to free herself of the mental image. "Thanks for that." she mutters, tone dry. And then she nods, stepping back and beginning up the ramp. "I hope you put it to good use...and not too often!" she calls in parting.

"If you ever have need of the help, just come on by, first one is on the house!" Mae calls in return with a wave, a sudden grin on her face as she observes the digusted blech look on the pilots face. "And if you think that one is a bad image, imagine how baby Hutt's are conceived," she teases with a wink before stepping clear as the droids load the cargo and secure everything place. The tie downs are fastened, the cinches tightened, clasps checks, the tarp draped over top and roped into place before the biohazard signs are rigged around and the whole thing dusted with a layer of fine sand followed by a spray down of aerosol mist that layers everything with a fine stench of waste and decay. "There, now we're ready," she says and signals the droids to begin maneuvering the sled away from the landing pad itself.