Log:Resistance: Bizarro Raid
Bizarro Raid
OOC Date: April 4, 2019
Location: Ottega System
Participants: The Resistance, Ektor, Poe Dameron, Jessika Pava, Miri Sakir, Callax Dalso, Tallissan Lintra
It is not a lengthy hyperspace flight to the Ottega System, but whenever rapid response fighters are sent in answer to a raid, the wait can be nerve-wracking. Sometimes, they arrive in time to drive off raiders and save the day for a convoy, other times a lone freighter is nothing but wreckage by the time they emerge from hyperspace, the attackers already long gone. Some pilots can't help but wonder which fate this jump will reveal.
Emerging from hyperspace, Black Squadron can view the small green ball of Ithor in the far distance, but it is the nearer signals which dominate both the canopy view and the targeting computers: the remains of a large convoy are scattered all about in the immediate vicinity; five massive bulk freighters had been ambushed promptly upon emerging from hyperspace, causing many X-wings to abruptly veer to avoid collision. The wreckage of a GR-75 Gallofree heavy transport and a pair of destroyed BFF heavy freighters are close at hand. A third BFF is presently under enemy fire, and a Xiytiar is ponderously trying to escape.
Of the attackers, there is some confusion. To be sure, there is the sleek shell of a Ton-Falk class Escort carrier perhaps twenty thousand kilometers distant, the likely source of the dozen bizarre fightercraft which are presently massacring the remaining freighters.
Of unknown classification, the eyes of the Resistance pilots will provide more information than their baffled computers: each fighter sports a single vertical hexagonal solar panel, flanked by a pair of TIE-style ball cockpits. Rather than firing the typical chin-mounted lasers, each craft spits a single large, overpowered laser from a cannon in the right-most ball.
"Damn it, we're too late. We have to stop them from destroying all the freighters. All crafts follow me in, and lock your S-Foils into attack position. These TIEs.. they're not our usual suspects, so ensure your shields are up and your heads are on a swivel here." Black Leader's engines glow bright red as the craft angles right toward the danger. If there's any hope of preserving the remaining freighters, it will be found in their assault.
In the confines of her T-85 X-Wing, Jessika Pava begins her last minute checks while periodically glancing at the seconds ticking by on the countdown chronometer. Going in blind means needing to be prepared for anything, and she's ready to both toggle her s-foils and fire the instant that she comes out of hyperspace. "Be ready for anyth--," Jessika starts to relay to her astromech as the countdown reaches zero and the snubfighter transitions from the time-bending hyperspace to the more familiar realspace. The words die on the tip of her tongue. Sensor reports and Ali's faster-than-human processing hit her before the surge of adrenaline, but it all results in the same thing: a sharp suck of breath in through her lips at the sight before her.
Jessika winces, groans deeply, and yanks back on the flightstick of her craft all in sync. Inertial dampeners in her fighter throw her hard against her crash harness. She's spared biting her tongue from the already-clenched state of her teeth. The pain might have helped quell the rapid, panic-induced hammering of her heartbeat, though. She barely squeezes by the rotating chunk of a destroyed freighter. "Evasive maneuvers on exit! Watch for debris!" As soon as she's clear, she's trying to get her head focused on what's caused all this destruction. For once in her life, though, Jessika Pava doesn't immediately know what she's looking at. "What the kriff are these things?"
Miri has to pull up hard as soon as she exits hyperspace to avoid collioding with one of the freighters, and she slips sideways through the wreckage as she gets her bearings. "I have no rekkin idea, but I hate them already, and I think I want one."
And so it is that the Empire, too good to die and rot like a proper failed artifact of past tyranny, still menaces the galaxy by extension. As Black Ten transitions into realspace and carnage reigns supreme, Callax trusts in his squadron leader's instructions and engages Ten's strike foils without hesitation. "All right, Fang darling," he murmurs to his droid via internal comms, "Let's see what we can do about sending these time travelers elsewhere. You know. To the future. Where they're dead. Prepare to tend to the systems as needed."
Punching forward at maximum interception velocity, Callax eyes the sensor display and the image of the raiders in question. "Odd. Looks like something you'd put through a nipple. Ah, well." Then, over the squadron frequency, he cheerily says, " Roger, Black Leader. Guns are hot and we are on our way! "
The flash out of hyper seems to always leave her a bit breathless, white lines resolve into the black and the chatter on com. Fiver whistles and beeps their position relative to the others. Immediately Tallie is sent hard against her restraints as they reorient and avoid wreckage from the ongoing fight. The spectral wash of the hologram showing where the freighters are colors her face and reflects off her helmet. "Black Leader, Black 5, targets? Bogeys at my 3." Behind her the droid is having something akin to a conniption fit at the strange signals emanating from the fighters strafing the convoy.
"Uh- what the Hutt-sucking drips is this?" Ektor wonders crudely " Is that- ah, wreck me-" an abrupt curse as his fighter swerves around a portion of Gallofree hull plating, "Genius, gimme auxiliary power to the guns, I wanna see how quick these backwards bastards blow up, yeah?"
Encrypted transmissions from the distant Ton-Falk carrier are sent rapidly to the bizarre TIEs, but none are transmitted back as the dozen craft wheel in eerie unison to turn their fire from the wounded bulk freighters to the Resistance vessels.
Observing the crafts turn at the same time unnerves Poe, but he doesn't stop his assault. Leading into the attack first, he blasts Delta 2, landing two of his cannons' shots and nearly collapsing their shields. Black Leader banks then, adjusting course. BB-8 mentions an encrypted signal coming from the Ton-Falk carrier and Poe wonders if the craft are tied to the transmissions coming from that craft. "BB-8, prep micro-jump coordinates to that craft.. I have an idea."
Jessika orients back towards the rest of the Squadron so she's not so far out of position after her evasive arrival. Glancing at the data presented to her on her instrument panel, Jessika commits the part of her brain that's trying to run through her memory of various fighters to something she's not even focused on. It's this intense scrutiny of these fighters that has her eyes set on them when they all, with astounding uniformity, turn to engage the arriving X-Wings. There's a sense of urgency in her voice. "Black Leader, Black Two. I don't know what those things are, but that was way too smooth to not be robotic. Those fighters shouldn't have been able to destroy all these freighters, either. Recommend caution on those guns."
There's not much time for anything else. The fighters are coming, and Jessika, like her Squadron leader, opens up at the target closest to her sights. The red beams spit from her laser cannons play as flashes of light across her yellow visor and as powerful hits against her target's shields, which leave them strained and close to failure. She's suddenly very worried that they're outnumbered.
"Okay, you are never going anywhere near my nipples, Fancy," Miri quips, flipping over and locking her s-foils into attack position. One of the horrible nipple-ring TIE fighters dives for her, and she starts to tangle with him, cannons blazing.
"Wasn't aware there my comms were on, " Callax says in his calm way as he opens up on another of the strange ships - all cannons find purchase on the ship, giving it a Mandalorian funeral by converting it into blazing flinders. " Black Leader, I'm certan that these ships are remotes. Permission to range ahead and put a torpedo in that carrier to see how they react. "
The chorus dance turn has Tallie leaning forward and blinking as she double checks her hologram display of the maneuver on the projection. "What the trek did they just do?" The X-Wing rolls to the port sighting number six in the formation. At the last minute a jink to avoid plate blown out by the attack has her dropping under the strange eyeballs. A perfect position for a triple laser punch into the aligned fighters and delta six adds more wreckage to the flotsam they are flying through. "Black Five, splash Delta Six" "Woooo,"she screams and then climbs back into the same plane of attack as Black Leader.
Ektor swerves through the wreckage of the destroyed Gallofree, cannons taking one of the unidentified TIE-ish fighters, coming through volleys of return fire unscathed.
The Xiytiar freighter has slooowly won clear of the wreckage and begins preparing for a hyperjump.
Meanwhile, Alpha Squadron (12x TIE/fo) has launched from the distant Ton-Falk, setting an intercept course for the fighters of Black Squadron.
"Copy, Black 2." Poe has banked about, avoiding fire from two fighters. Callie's transmission comes across just as Poe obliterates a fighter from Delta. "Splash Delta Two; Black 10.. our objective is here for now. Let's ensure our people can make it out first before we jump. Do prep micro-jumps though."
Angling away from the explosion as the second half of Delta 2 goes up, Poe increases his engine speed. "Black 2, BB-8 says there's no life signs on those weird fighters, and they're fit with light turbolasers. Must be some kind of prototype or something."
Individually, the fighters aren't responding like pilots engaged in battle. Jessika squeezes the trigger on her flightstick a second time and chews through what remains of her target's shields, and then it's hull. It erupts in a violent chain of explosions, but that's gone almost as soon as it starts because of the void's lack of oxygen and the extreme cold. "Black Two, Delta Three destroyed." Poe's order to prepare micro-jumps is not something she needs to actively take care of. Ali is already working on plotting what she needs. "Black Leader, Black Two. I copy. We've got another squadron incoming. Could probably handle Delta by itself no problem, but if we're trying to worry about trained pilots and their support.."
"All right, darling," Callax instructs Fang, "Get me a microjump and prepare to put us on top of the big bastard. I want to dump torpedoes right in its hold if need be." As he says this, and the droid whisles its acknowledgement, Callax lances Black Ten through the tumbling fragments of the Gallofree's corpse and now those of the many drone ships being torn apart. Now there's a lot of fire coming his way, and banking and rolling through the field of broken durasteel his expression is hard as yet more of the drones open fire upon his ship.
In the end, though, Callax is not the ace that the rest of his squadronmates are - and when the drones open up on the fighter with their turbolasers, Black Ten does not survive it. " Ejecting, " Callax calls over the link as he engages the seat, sounding more disgusted than anything else. " Get those people safe, darlings! "
And then there is no more Black Ten. Or perhaps no more Fang. Just Callax, thrown clear, bashing his pretty head against the canopy as his helmet seals and he shoots far away from the fighter as it is given its own Mandalorian funeral.
Black 6 wheels through the chaotic skirmish with an erratic unpredictability. Whether for luck, or for the fact that droids find Ektor's flying even more senseless than living pilots, no bolts have yet come close. Detonating one of the oddball prototypes, he notes, "One more scrapped bizarro bird, yeah?"
The fall of Black 10 has an unexpected effect on the evacuation: it delays it. Choosing to put off its immediate escape, the big Xiytiar freighter, with precision on a tractor beam that could either tend durasteel or bring in a crystal moth unharmed, draws the drifting form of a stranded Resistance pilot into its hold. A brave choice, as a fresh squadron of inbound TIEs scream closer.
"Looks like Black 10 is down. Black 10 is down. We need to clear the path of these remaining fighters and get the hell out of here." Poe says, adjusting his course at a breakneck speed to blast one of the fighters numbered 1, out of space. He had to train his motions with the craft, requiring a degree of mastery over his own fighter to land the shots he did. Immediately after One's destruction, Poe has engaged another, sinking a hit of a single red bolt against its shields and chasing after it.
Jessika regrets mentioning the odds almost immediately after bringing them up. She's not even aware it's happening until a sad warble from Ali and a double-check of her sensors confirms that Black Ten's X-Wing has been destroyed. "Hutt-sucking robots.." Under her breath, so quiet that it barely registers in echo through her own ears, she curses the experimental fighters that are swarming around them. Ali, understanding this is not the time for hyperbolic moments of offense, says nothing about the quip. Jessika wouldn't have heard her even if she did. She's busy honing in on another one of the targets as Black Leader chews through one and part of another. Rapid acquisition, a practiced squeeze, and four lances later, it goes.
"Black Two, Delta Four destroyed."
Miri grits her teeth as she keeps tangling with her target. She can't think about the ejecting Callax right now. "Slippery rekkers..."
Concentrating on her exhales to calm herself, Tallie brings Black Five back into the fight barely missing a piece of shattered freighter, proximity alarms are deafening till she orders Fiver to shut it down. Soulless they might be but the double Eyes nearly took one of their own and she wants their wreakage to join the dust of the stars. "Splash Eight, Black Five" she announces fiercely then does a barrel roll to come back around.
Ektor has gotten tired of his astromech's proximity alerts as the X-wing weaves all too close to the wreckage in the course of annihilating one 'Bizarro' TIE, and scoring a light hit on another. Flipping a 'mute' switch with one gloved hand, grinning behind his visor, the Tionese pilot drawls, "And here comes the party, yeah?" as a phalanx of Alpha Squadron TIE/fo open fire.
They have no time to do worse than splash ineffective fire against the Xiytiar, before that looming bulk freighter streaks off into the safety of hyperspace. The damaged BFF-1 has taken advantage of Black Squadron's cover to restore most of its lost shield strength, and has turned to follow its fellow, but still requires more time.
They had better not need much, as the Ton-Falk carrier launches a Beta squadron of twelve more TIE/fo fightercraft.
"The parade is here, everyone prep to jump. We're not going after the carrier. Do what you can to draw fire from the remaining freighter.." Poe isn't sure if the Xiytiar succeeded in retrieving their downed pilot, and he cannot focus on that now. He blasts the fighter he pursues, and banks away from the explosion, angling high up as BB-8 begins to map their route back to the Naboo system. "Let's go, buddy."
Relieved that their downed pilot is taken care of, Jessika can turn the full focus of her attention on the fight at hand. She realizes it for what it is before the Major brings up the plan. Right now, Black Squadron is nothing but a deadly distraction, and one that can't go on forever. The friendlies need to bug out, and Black needs to go with them. "Black Leader, Black Two acknolwedges." Simple. To the point. Much like her juke and nose deviation, all with the goal of setting the Alpha Two TIE/fo in her sights. It's a good picture, and a solid hit, even if the pilot's response keeps most of the damage at bay. "Prepare for break and jump, Ali. On Major Dameron's mark." She says it no louder than if she was speaking to someone right beside her.
"Black Eight copies," Miri sings out tersely, and Henibi beeps that she acknowledges, starting to plot the jump.
The psyche evaluators might love to get hold of Tallie right now. Fury, tightly controlled, makes her breathing ragged and her flying just on the edge of reckless. She knows better, buttons it down for the squadron's sake and flies at the oncoming TIE fighter designated number 7 with cannons painting its shields red. They connect three times taking down shields. Right rudder changes her angle of attack, grinning fiercely, she finishes the TIE in a rain of lasers then pulls off, not remaining long enough to watch the pieces desenigrate. Another TIE is on her vector and fires ineffectually, targeting solutions give her that shot that she wished she had every time and the TIE breaks up into two. "Copy that Black Leader. Splash 7, splash 9. Bye bye"
As his flight mates mop up the last of the unidentified TIE drones, Ektor cackles back to the jump orders, " I hear you, just.. gonna punch that Alpha lead in the nose on our way out, yeah?" He doesn't charge the TIEs alone, others of Black Squad do the same, and Ektor does land a minor hit on the lead Alpha ace, spiralling out of the enemy's counterfire.
Just over half of Alpha flight swarms past the screening X-wings to strafe the wounded BFF-1 freighter, chewing through its restored shields and carving with vivid green scalpels into its thick hull. Yet they cannot kill it before the big hauler escapes into hyperspace, with a last signal of "Thanks, Resistance. Drinks are on us, some day."
"Alright, punch it guys!" S-Foils close and without any further warning, Poe reaches out and engages his hyperdrive, pulling his craft into hyperspace and placing him firmly back against his seat. A breath of relief is released and Poe tips his head back, closing his eyes for the trip back. Things had gone from bad to worst. Jess had called it; her numbers rarely lied.
The half of the squadron that breaks past them can't quite impose enough damage to eliminate the target they were trying to protect. It'll need some repairs, and they'll be costly, but that price is more than worth the life of the crew on board. Jessika spares one last glance for the surrounding debris littering the void. "You captured footage of some of the experimentals, right?" A confirmative bleep is all she needs to be completely happy. "Let's get out of here." Disengaging from the fight, Jessika toggles the s-foils on her snubfighter and angles towards the vector necessary for the jump to hyperspace. A few moments later and the craft lurches. It's there, and then it's not, like some vanishing trick that turns the space outside a bright blue.
Fiver ups the volume on incoming bogeys and the cockpit sings with alarms, targeting solutions paint the young woman's face orange and green. Unconsciously, a finger touches her white synth scarf before she rolls to starboard trying to avoid. They are buffeted when they are painted by lasers but systems hold. And the order to leave still stands. "Acknowledged Black Leader" She folds her wings into position in preparation to hyper out.
Where others spare a moment for reflection, or to assure some critical piece of intelligence, Ektor spends his last moment in the Ottega System switching to an open band and transmitting, "Kill ya next time, Hutt-suckers!" Exhaling lazily as he pulls the hyperjump levers and the X-wing follows its fellows back toward Naboo, he muses aloud, "It's the little things in life, ain't it?" A pause at the silence. Remembering he'd muted Genius, the Tionese grins, leans back in his flight seat and forgets again.
