Log:Resistance: Let's Get DIrty

Let's Get Dirty

OOC Date: December 10, 2018
Location: Y'toub System
Participants: Ektor(GM), Poe Dameron, Elrych Cometburn, Merek, Nova Korell, Ambrosia Greystorm, Jax Greystorm, Kylo Ren, Oran Arcantael, The Resistance

Freighters come and go from the Smuggler's Moon at all hours, ranging from shuttles and light transports to the bulk freighters of the major trade syndicates and criminal cartels; all of these are dwarfed by the looming bulk of the Huttship Drooganar, the cruiser which secures Hutt control of the system. If, in the course of a normal day, a vessel makes a discreet run into the 'uninhabited' asteroid field (that we all know are home to illicit trade and nests of piracy, but shhh!), all folk of the Y'toub System are only too accustomed to looking the other way. This had started out like such a normal day...

The initial sensor signals cause optical organs to widen throughout the system: pulled out of hyperspace by the gravity well of the asteroid field, a notorious Rebel Assault Frigate has arrived in formation with a Civil War era MC40a light cruiser, a CR-90 corvette, and a squadron of T-85 X-wing starfighters. Scant instants after the craft emerge from hyperspace, the distant ruby glitter of turbolasers in the black of space can be spotted even from the orbit of Nar Shaddaa as the capital ships open fire on unseen targets within the asteroid field.

As comm chatter erupts and alarms spread via every means of communication (up to and including flailing arms), word spreads quickly: the Resistance has returned to Y'toub, and they seem very displeased with that asteroid belt. Almost as quickly, a job offer is broadcast from a Sunbelt Mining Station for the immediate and short-term service of any and all mercenary starships in the system. The job: repel the attack of the Resistance Fleet. Offered wages are negotiable but very generous, payment on completion of the job.

Within the X-wings of Black Squadron, the targeting computers come online as the fighters exit hyperspace on the very threshold of the Sunbelt, blinking with the target installation, and the specs of their objective. The Sacrifice and Renegade have begun carving a path of approach for the Thunder Forge through the asteroids toward their objective. A stern, feminine voice goes over the Resistance comms: <<All vessels, this is Renegade. We have commenced focused fire and Thunder Forge is advancing into the field toward objective Alpha-Kappa, we will monitor all targets on long-range sensors and keep you apprised. Good hunting, and may the Force be with us.>>

Brigadier General, Ambrosia Greystorm, has a front row seat to this party....from afar. She's sequestered aboard the Renegade, coloring the Bridge with her choice of language and perpetually tense, grumpy greystorm demeanor. The aging foot soldier has a fine view of the Thunderforge and its 'Messenger' cargo in dot form, appearing both on grid and in real space when they enter the Y'toub system. She's hovering behind the communication console of a Lieutenant, keeping a respectful distance from the Renegade's Captain, Capt Kross, who is addressing the rest of the fleet. At the moment, Kross has more reason to sweat than she. If fortune favors their cause, it'll remain that way, but the old vet knows better than to put faith in hope. The last time she tracked dots on a screen, the dot containing her youngest son was obliterated. One of many, that fateful retreat to Crait.

<<Boarding party, check in>> she commands via call to the Messenger. <<You ready to move, like a jakrab with a fuse up its arse?>> Ya know. Just in case. A touch of a dark smile crooks up half her mouth and crinkles her right eye while the left side remains almost as stoic as it was before. Oh, to be a 'Major' again, down there in the thick of it.

<<Renegade, this is Black Leader. Roger on mission update. Break break, all call signs check in.>> Poe has already initiated his engines and opened s foils into attack position. His craft twists catching the light of the nearest star. Red engines, defiant and bright when compared against the vast darkness of space emit a bright pulse of red contrails as he heads toward an intercept position to assume a defensive posture.

Merek had put on his camo gear, which is black in tone with the helmet upon as well which has an orange visor that shows HUD infomation that is above that beard of his. He lifts up his EL 16 rifle, while he does his checks, then he places the rifle to the strap which he uses to better wield it. He offers thumbs up towards Nova, so that she will know he's prepared with the others of the boarding team.

<<"Black Eleven, Reporting in">> Comes the voice of Elrych over the comms. Shields up, S Foils opened in attack position. He's rocketing along with the rest of Black Squadron towards the intercept position. He takes a moment to turn the volume down on the music he'd been playing. It's still their, faintly, likely heard ever so slightly when he speaks over coms.

Jax had been called in to help repay a favor to one of the Resistance's Generals. He had asked what favor, and she'd pointed out bring him into this galaxy counted as infinite favors to call in.

So Jax dressed for battle in S2 armor was sitting with the rest of the back up ground team on the Sentinel Class shuttle. His helmet in his lap. Through a viewport he watches Resistance fighters move in. He absent minded finds himself wishing to be among them. He picks up his helmet and slides it onto his head and his face is hidden. "I'm set. May the Force be with us." His gear checked and rechecked before the entered the Sentinel.

The Thunder Forge glides into the Sunbelt field, the turbolasers of Renegade and it's own freshly installed armaments combining with the skill of the helmsman to ward off any significant impacts, though minute pieces of celestial gravel do shimmer across the surface of the light cruiser's shields as it approaches the starbase.

Beginning within a minute of the Renegade battle group's arrival, sensors begin to ping with a steady trickle of various ships launching from uncharted hangars hidden among the asteroids, as pirate pilots respond quickly to the sudden attack. There must have been ships and pilots kept on stand-by within the installation, as the scramble is swift. The first wave of craft to respond against Black Squadron are seven starfighters of many makes: a Kimogila heavy, Dunelizard fighters, Scyk interceptors, even an old Cloakshape. More fighters continue to pile out of the Sunbelt hangars in scattered haste behind the first wave, while a trio of heavily armed freighters begin to power up and prep for launch from the Mining Station hangar.

On the streets of Nar Shaddaa, a rush of pilots toward the starports breaks out, as many captains hasten to launch. Most seem eager to get out of the system for fear that this unexpected battle will spread and swallow them up. Shuttles and light freighters begin to buzz through the moon's atmosphere rising from Parmac's and the Corellian launch zones.

In the cockpit of <<Black Sevennnn,>> Ektor sounds off lazily as he flicks the shields live, locks S-foils into namesake position, and guides the nimble starfighter toward the brigands' ship-spewing hideout. <<Huh, they in the black pretty quick. We good to start shooting, yeah Lead?>>

<<This is boarding party... General. We're... just about ready to... launch on command,>> replies Nova, working with her own gear. Her armored tunic has been patched, but the pants had to be replaced after her last mission, and the fit doesn't seem quite right. It might just be the newer material, or a change in the standard pattern. She nods to Merek and Jax, then at Private Yelsik, the demo specialist. <<Oorah to ashes, Resistance.>>

<<Copy that. Make Momma proud, boys and girls.>> Stepping back from the console, Ambrosia finds a seat and waits for the fireworks to begin.

Poe's voice over comms is slightly robotic sounding. <<"Roger Black squadron. Stick together on this one and follow me in. We are authorized to use deadly force.">> Poe accelerates forward engaging a dunelizard fire in the initial trade off. All four cannons hit the ship well before they have time to do anything more than set an intercept course. The ship is transformed into a heap of flaming twisted metal. <<"That's one down. Here comes the parade.">>

Merek looks to the others, then he nods a bit as he stands up and moves to where the others are, as he takes a moment to activate the HUD with new information after the arrival in the sector. He then speaks to Nova, "Hmm... I am going to put my HUD into demolitions, name's Frost," he tells to those that don't know much about him. Would seem that is what to call him with the mission as well.

<<"This is where things get murky... but I like that. Roger, lead.">> Elrych isn't having as much luck with the flight of Dunelizzards as he engages along side Poe and Ektor. "Off my game today, Kid..." He mentions to his droid as the fighter narrowly escapes his quad linked cannon fire.

Jax was watching the fight going on out in space. "This is going to get messy." He sighs as his head turns to look at Nova, "She's being a mother hen cause she's upset she's not here leading the charge." He says of General Greystrom. "Worried about her children, but she'll never admit it."

"I know how she must feel. It's not easy to sit and wait, even when you know you'll get in. Doing that when you /can't/," Nova agrees quietly, the words harshened by her not-from-around-here accent. She's been in that boat. She offers Jax a gloved hand. "We haven't been introduced, I'm afraid. Sergeant Nova Korell." She nods to Frost. "Hopefully we won't need it, and they won't need us."

Amidst the unfolding chaos of a dogfight between asteroids, few could hope to notice the short-lived flash of explosives on the surface of the large asteroid housing the brigand starbase. <<This is Thunder Forge. Surface detonation is negative, repeat: negative. Black Squadron, prepare to escort our boarding party to the target.>> Captain Kross looks aside to Amber. "Brigadier, your team is up. Give the order."

Of course, the building swarm of pirate fighters (6 more hodge-podge fighters have spewed out to join the chaotic fight) and trio of armed freighters could complicate that assignment. The three freighter gunships register by name as previous contacts on the Resistance targeting computers: the Fallen Despot, Scimitar, and Barada's Sword.

In Black 7, Ektor answers the warble of his astromech, "What? The 'Fallen Despot'? Come on, how is that guy not dead?" Switching the comm live, he grouses to the Squadron, <<Did we or did we not already blow these guys up, yeah?>> Muttering his further annoyances off comm, the Tionese pilot weaves between the blue lances of ion cannon fire to annihilate the Cloakshape fighter in a salvo of quad cannons. <<Okay, the worst fighter in the galaxy is blown up.>>

Poe glances port and starboard, trying to maintain a feel of the battlefield. As they weave between crafts, Poe is pursued. He banks port smoothly, rolling slightly and retaliates with a flurry of his own. The pilots here seem to posture, avoiding Poe's shots in return. "We'll revisit that, pal." Poe mumbles as he flips a switch and adjusts course at the beckoning of Thunderforge. <<"Roger Thunderforge. Black Squadron, lead these thugs into the turret fire of the Renegade. We need to reach our boarding shuttle and guide them in.">>

"Sonfbitch..." Greystorm grumbles with a sigh from her seat and pushes up to her feet with all the rigidity that stereotype expects from polished brass. Pacing forward to stare out the double-decker viewport at the chaos unfolding in the distance beyond that asteroid field, she reaches two fingers to the comm. <<Launch the Messenger. Reset those timers and get the hell outta there quick as you can. Don't muck around with entertaining the opposition anymore'n you have to. Sgt Korell....this is your show. You know what needs doin. Good kriffin luck.>> For Jax, there are no special words of wisdom or motherly love. We all know how well that worked out the last time.

Elrych gets that oh so familiar feeling. One he's getting far to used to these days. The one where imminent doom coursed through your body and told you to krifin' run. Except he was confined in a starfighter, with no escape except to embrace the unrelenting cold and dark of space with whatever comforts his flight suit allowed him in the limited air it held. Perhaps that's why he was too late on the yoak of his X-wing when the two Ion blasts smashed into his shields ripping away most of the invisible bubble. The shudder through him off course. Alarm bells rang, lanky arms reaching out to shut them off... they were overpowering his Jizz. He needed that to think straight. "Son of a... Kid, get working on it. Now..." He looks up and around through the canopy of his fighter and sends the ship into an upward dive back into the fight. Sorry, dark mistress, not yet. Maybe soon, but not yet. He was still in this. He notices Poe heading after Kimogila One and having a bit of trouble. one of his strikes hits on the pass by. He looks to the targeting system, <<"No Kriffin' Drek... Freaky.">> Then there's Poe's orders, <<"Copy that, lead">>

Merek looks at his display with some thought as the notification of the demolitions comes to state that it still requires detonation. He looks over to Nova while he shifts his rifle up with both hands, nodding to show that he is prepared to board.

Jax lets out a whistle, "Like a precision timed chronometer, Nothing ever goes right for the Resistance." He extends his hand to shake Nova's hand, "Jax...." There's a sigh as if a pause before he continues, "Greystorm. It's a pleasure Sarge. Old Call sign was Cosair but call me what you." He says to Frost. "Looks like it's game time."

"An old friend called me Moonbeam. I guess that's still me," Nova replies, nodding quietly. "Looks like we're up, after all." She turns to the cockpit. <<Messenger to General, we are launching. Black, we're stepping onto your playground now. We'll try to stay out of your way.>>

Aboard the Renegade, Kross receives a report from the Sensors officer with a curt nod. "The Hutt cruiser isn't breaking orbit of Nar Shaddaa. Looks like the Cartel decided to sit this one out." A short nod to her own thoughts. She doesn't dare give the lucky break voice. "Fire control: target the gunships taking off from Sunbelt Base." It's a hard shot on a small target at long range through asteroids. Little was expected of the shot, and little is delivered.

The Messenger launches, already at the doorstep of the pirate holdfast, its engines already prepped and humming live in its place on the hangar deck. Out into the black, they go, as a hostile fighter roars past, an X-wing in close pursuit.

Black 7 continues an erratic path through the stony, spaceborne melee, avoiding the fire of a pair of ion-spitting interceptors, and landing a hit on one that had previously been aimed at Black 11. <<Light hit on this guy. Hey, somebody tell Moonbeam good luck, yeah?>>

Greystorm Sr. casts a sidelong look to the younger Captain Kross, but says nothing. This isn't her turf.

Poe's craft takes a good hit to the shields while he is angling toward the Renegade. He's turned vertical, negotiating the terrain of the ship's exterior hull up close. When he rounds the bow, blasting away from the ship itself, his engines emit red circles of after burner energy. Poe takes a shot at a passing Dunelizard and surgically misses with a laugh. That's when he has caught up to the Messenger. <<"Roger that, Moonbeam. Good luck, we're counting on your team.">>

That tingle again. He had a sinking feeling all day. Something was off. He forgot to tie his laces this morning, Nia used his toothbrush by accident. It was all just a bad day for this scrawny force sensitive. Try as he may to avoid, all he could do is brace for impact when the two laser blasts hit, the first ripping through the last of his shields Kid wasn't even half way to repairing and the second smashing into the Hull. He could really feel that one. It rattles his very soul, as if the black mistress grew hands and tightened her grib around his little cocoon of durosteel. A fitting casket for a foolish child. <<"Ant much of a play ground... Xer says Good Luck Moonbeam. You don't want any of mine today.">> He looks to his read outs, nothing busted yet but he was no good without his shield. He brings it back in close towards the Res main line, hoping that'll discourage fighters from moving in on him. <<"Lead, shields are down. Got some light Hull Damage... going to sit it out a bit and try to get things back on line.">> He looks out over the playground and frowns. "Alright Kid, let's get to work..." It's not long before they get some shields back, "Good... good, let's keep working at it. We aren't fixing that scratch until we're back on the Renegade..." He opens up a panel and sticks a finger in. A spark shoots out and he removes his hand quickly shaking it. Kid whistles at him, "Oh shut your trap."

Merek looks to the others a moment, and looks from the visor which has that display on. "I can fix the charges, though I'm not sure how well, with the fact we're likely to meet resistance. I also have some C22 to put on them if that doesn't work, and well... That's the manual way, which would mean that we'd have to work pretty fast," he explains, as he shifts his rifle, and settles with his position to wait while Messenger is piloted. A nod to the two, "Sergeant, Cosair, I'm on you."

"I'm quite sure Sargent Moonbeam and I can handle any opposition. " Jax says, "I am not a demolitions expert. Besides I figure the General wants a quick operation." As the shuttle draws close to the lz, Jax makes his way to his feet. The crystal sword drawn and ready. "Lets get home safely, No heroes today, unless the Sarge needs them."

"I'd suggest explaining the idea to Private Yelsik, and have him set the charges," Nova replies. "We'll keep you covered while you both work, as Jax said. We want this sure, quick, and done, in that order." She levers herself to her feet, claiming her carbine from the clamp next to her seat. "We'll be on deck in thirty seconds, squad. Get set to come out swinging! We missed yelling 'surprise', but I'm sure they'll have quite a party for us guests of honor!"

The shuttle Messenger glides serenely through the chaos and destruction of the void, as it slips in behind the outgoing rush or pirate starcraft and settles to the asteroid hangar's deck. Its belly turret ion repeater opens fire to cover the deployment of the troopers, while the shuttle co-pilot reports, "Hangar atmosphere is positive and locked, Clear to deploy, go!" they call over the shuttle comms to the troopers. Outside, the once-chaotic hangar is largely abandoned after the rush of so many ships. There are a scattered few pirates on foot dashing for cover, but the ground team's required course to the underside of the Acolyte Cannon's superstructure is clear: up one level (stairs or lift, troopers choice), and along the central corridor.

Black 7 continues its chaotic dash through the dogfight, landing a splattering of cannon fire that detonates one of the swarming Scyk interceptors. <<Arright, one more down.>> A hard evasion keeps him out of the line of fire of another trailing interceptor. <<Numbers is balancing out, we got the edge now, yeah? No dying, kid,>> he adds, dryly after noting Elrych's masterful feat of flying. "Tenner," he orders his astromech, "Do NOT tell the kid this? But that was real good, yeah?"

Poe adjusts his craft again, watching the boarding shuttle make its way into the hangar. <<"Messenger is at target location. Breaking off to engage hostile forces.">> Black Leader dives after another passing dunelizard. Sallying up behind the craft, Poe glances at his targeting computer briefly to see the shots line up and then squeezes the trigger, blasting it out of space. <<"Another down, Ektor. First to five buys drinks.">>

"Okay, okay... let's..." Elrych start to Kid who's busy working and complaining about their shield situation. That's the third time, this time though that feeling is overwhelmingly powerful. Like he had just done a line of spice with that Hutt Cartel chick. His hands intantly go to the yoke and he pushes down on the rudder which sends the bolts flying from Dunelizzar one who's bearing right down on him, dead ahead, under his keel and out into the blackness of space. "Why you kriffin..." Elrych attempts to line a shot up while throtteling the engines hard. Yeah, that was good Xer. Your God-Damn-Right, I'm the one who knocks. This Jedi is done playing games for the day. <<"Thanks, lead">> As Poe takes care of his arch nemesis for the day. He would make another one, but Dunelizard 3 coms under all his bolts and becomes one with the dark mistress.

"Roger," Merek says, while he uploads the data about his plan for Yelsik to read up on, "I also added a few specifications of the charges which I handled, it should assist you." He takes two of his C22 frags from his belt to hand to the man, "Use those if you need to, in case we can not manually work the demos." He then walks with his rifle up while the doors open for the transport.

The Private moves from it and takes up position next to those that are coming from the ship, while he lifts his rifle and takes a shot at one of the men moving to a position which hits him.

As the shuttle ramp goes down, Jax leads the charge down the ramp, as one of the pirates chooses not to take cover and fires upon the group of Resistance operatives. The blaster bolt missing Jax as the Corellian spawn of Amber makes his way to the pirate, his crystal sword slashing through the villian in two quick strokes and leaving the man dead. He looks doesn't look at Moonbeam for orders as he goes to provide a vanguard for Frost and Private 9 Fingers (Amber.)

The ramp is down almost before Nova realizes, and rather than try to run past Jax, she braces her rifle and opens fire from the top of the ramp, nailing down a pirate marine with a quick shot. "Watch for more of those!" she calls, dashing after Jax. Down a short corridor, then to a hatch labeled 'STAIRS'. "It's this or the 'lift. The one with the 'ding', like the autokitchen, which lets the pirates know we're inside, ready-to-eat. So we're walking. We can take the 'lift back down, if it still works," Moonbeam says, stacking up and toggling the hatch open. "Mind your corners."

"Righto," Pvt Yelsik cues up the additional data while clipping the extra boombooms to his own laden belt. The squad's original 'demo guy' falls into line behind his comrades and soon spills out of the Messenger, rifle brought to bear. A quick shot follows after the wounded pirate initially struck by Merek, but breezes on by, no harm done. "Eh, blast." Fortunately, his squad leader's there to pick up the slack! "Copy, Sarge," and he's following along, keeping a cautious eye on their rears.

Aboard the Renegade, the turbolaser batteries finally land a chance hit on one of the fleeing pirate gunships; it seems the freighters the Barada's Sword finds its aft section disintegrated by the direct hit of a capital scale turbolaser, and is dead in space for a long moment, before system failures spread, and the armed freighter detonates. It seems that tangling with a handful of capital ships isn't in the pirate agenda, today, and they seek cover from the Renegade's guns behind the largest asteroids. The pirate starfighters are badly outmatched by the T-85s of the Resistance, but they are stubbornly hanging on. Perhaps the hyperdrives aren't operational and they have nowhere to run, or perhaps they are simply very, very committed to defending their headquarters.

Perhaps they're waiting.

Rationally, the pirate base should be heaviest defended in approaching the control room. Going up a level should bypass the strongest defenses, as the underside of a massive surface cannon is singularly uninteresting; nothing but duracrete slabs and titanic magnetic locks on the ceiling. And yet, as the Resistance team rushes up the zig-zagging stairwell which was carved into the rock with a crude plasma cutter, halfway up the length of the corridor is a fortified barricade line protecting the last anchor point for the Acolyte Cannon. The barricade directly faces the mag lift.

Good call on those stairs.

A line of brigands with blasters- Weequay, Nikto, and Humans of varied gender are crouched half behind cover (the angle of the ground team's approach comes at them from the side) are gathered around the long, bizarrely lean form of a skinny, scarred wyrmlike creature in a shell of upper torso blasteel armor. A skinny Hutt, who snarls aloud in his own language, drawing a uniform shout from the pirates.

Fired at again, Poe twists away to avoid sustaining any damage. When his craft levels out, it's yo engage another fighter, but he misses. "How's that shield coming, pal?" BB-8 warbles back. "Alright alright, I was /just/ asking." Poe grins. <<"How are we holding up, Black Squadron?">>

The fabric of spacetime outside the asteroid belt abruptly expands as a trio of distinctive triangular sillhouettes appear as Resurgent-class star destroyers wink into existence between the belt and Nal Hutta, IFF transponders identifying them as the Finalizer, Harbinger, and the Fallcrest. As the Destroyers begin to pivot to face the Sunbelt, swarms of TIE fighters begin to issue from their bellies, forming into flights to begin their approach on the Resistance vessels.

Flanked by a complement of TIE/sf fighters, a shuttle lowers from the bowels of the Finalizer, batlike wings unfolding. Rather than heading for the capital ships, the black ship heads directly for the asteroid hangar and the Acolyte Cannon.

Fresh off his kill, Elrych moves in on the last of the Dunelizards. His first shot goes wide though as Kid gives him an update on his shields, "Copy that... Keep working on it." Though, the pilots heart sinks as the new contacts appear on sensors. <<"You seeing this, Lead?">> What were they going to do in this situation. <<"Hate to be that guy, Moonbeam. But the party poopers just jumped in system." He looks towards the the Res fleet, wondering what they'll do.

Merek moves forward as Jax and Nova seem to handle theirs, then he looks to Yelsik, "Watch the back?" he asks, while he moves with the others then looks to Jax, nodding to him, while he lifts his weapon towards those that are further towards the place they are working towards. He takes up a clean shot which manages to kill one of the mercs, he seems to be skilled with the rifle, as he shifts to a target while updating that display.

At the sight of the hutt, "I got the hutt." Jax says running down the cooridor, his whole plan seeming to make people confused why would a merc bring a sword to a gun fight and leave species confused. He makes his way to the hutt and slashing at the wyrmling and as the creature evades his second strike, "You're more agile than I thought."

<<Copy, El, and thanks. We're working on our end," the Sergeant replies, peeking around the corner. A Hutt? Well, this /is/ Y'toub. And as per Hutt policy, he's got plenty of help. And they're all in the way. Well, only one thing to do about that... "Take 'em!" Nova shouts, opening fire from the stairwell. Her shots take down two of the Hutt's goons, effectively keeping Jax's back clear. "Make it quick! We've got party poopers coming onto the scene! We need those charges set ASAP!"

"This feels like a warmer welcome!" Pvt Yelsik ducks down to a knee and pops off another shot at the living barricade between them and their target.

The bridge of the Renegade chills noticeably at the First Order contacts. "Well, that explains why we hadn't seen any ships on intercept from Nar Shaddaa," Kross notes aloud, tersely. Assessing the readouts sharply, she notes further, "The Star Destroyers are spread out, most of them thousands of units out of range. We have the Sunbelt asteroid field between us and the Supremacy, we can use that." Switching a comm on, she orders, <<Renegade to Sacrifice, move out of the gravity well directly opposite the Supremacy, and stand by for hyperspace jump. Remain in system unntil one of those picket ships comes into weapons range, and no longer. Thunder Forge, commence hyperspace calculations. Renegade to Ground Team, we have multiple hostile capital ships in system and on intercept.>> Exhaling sharply, she looks to Amber, voicing quietly. "They knew. Somehow, they knew." With a shake of her head, the prepared signal is sent to the distant Resistance Fleet. "Now we need to hold on long enough to get our people back."

<<Hey, at least I don't gotta worry about going home without firing any torpedoes, yeah?>> Ektor notes with a crooked grin. <<Civvie fighters is making space. Don't think they wanna get between us and the Same Old Order,>> The Tionese snickers, chewing his lower lip, and eyeing the targeting computer with a wince.

The skinny Hutt reels with the blow of the Greystorm's crystal sword, retaliating with a shockingly swift blow of his tail across Jax's ribs to knock the man back far enough to let loose a blast from a heavy pistol into the warrior. "Cower before the mighty Tartarus, Lord of Pirates, you weaklings!" he roars in Huttese.

The Supremacy? Coming in after the Star Destroyers, the massive flagship of the First Order blasts into being, its immense size dwarfing the other ships from where it hangs in space. TIEs begin to launch from various exits all over the gigantic ship, filling the air with more fighters than are immediately possible to count.

The shuttle continues its approach to the asteroid hangar, its TIE escort opening fire on anyone brave or stupid enough to look at it the wrong way. As the black ship arrives in the hangar, the wings fold above its body, panels sliding over each other like tectonic plates, condensing into a smaller size as the landing ramp descends in a cloud of steam, off-venting gases into the air. A black-robed figure strides out of the smoke, the mottled chrome of his helmet gleaming dully in the light of the hangar, heading towards the stairs that lead up to the Acolyte Cannon without much more than a cursory glance around the area, wordless beneath his frayed hood.

Striding in along with Kylo is a shorter dark-clad figure in the type of hooded robes that never bode well in this type of situation. He has brown skin, dark hair, and features shadowed by the hood, though no mask or helmet in place. As he walks, he draws a sword the twin of Jax's interesting blade, silent as they approach the cannon, and those who await there. At least one Resistance soldier on the ground here on the asteroid will no doubt recognize him well.

The fine lines over Ambrosia's graying brow twitch oh so slightly. Weathered knuckles tense over the arms of her chair, and a long, quiet exhale measures out every bit of breath from her lungs. These are the signs of concern at the sight of the arriving company. Wisps of silver and gold dance in the still air as she nods her understanding to Kross. "If you're the praying sort, now might be the time, Captain." As for her, she's not bending a knee. Not yet.

Poe takes the comms. <<"Root yourselves where you stand, and give this fight everything you have. Black Squadron-- All squadrons, on my wing. Not another craft gets by! Renegade, recommend you broadside and make yourself a barrier. Show them our teeth!">> Poe sets up the head of a starfighter line and opens fire. "Woooo!" Poe yells moving after his intended target. Fights like these are what he lived for.

Merek had taken his time to pull his helmet on proper after they came from the transport, but the mission takes precedence. If the two can make do between him and also Yelsik, it would be quite nice. They just have to complete the mission, though it seems like he recognizes at least one presence, one person that is coming their direction. He does his best as he motions to his partner with the demolitions, he quietly says, "Come on, we can manage it." He looks also to Jax as he then shifts his gaze to Nova.

Jax stumpbles back as his armor takes a good bit off the damage to the chest or he'd be other wise he'd be dead. There's the whiff of ozone and burnt. He grunts from under the helmet. "Yeah yeah that was impressive but I don't understand huttese." He says moving in to attack the now very agile hutt. He focuses at the sight of the hooded man, "I got a bad feeling about this."

Elrych isn't taking too much glory in this battle. Perhaps it was all the death, which he could feel. He certainly didn't want it happening to him. This was bigger then him though and what they did now could save others later on. It was all about choosing the less crappy of two really crappy options. Such was his life and where a lot of his morals stemed from. Hearing Poe over coms, the young Jedi throttles in at the wave of fighters, picking out one and chasing it down. Two of his bolts connect, hammering the shields.

Nova keeps firing, trying to back up Jax. And not doing very well at that. Perhaps it's a good thing she doesn't believe in omens. "Yelsik, get that charge planted..." she orders, hoping to keep the monstrous creature busy.

"Much obliged if you'd watch my tail, boss!" Pvt Yelsik chirps before hopping around battered Jax and charging headlong toward Merek togive the man a hand with the 'dud' explosive. He's humming some nervous tune jauntily underbreath as he works, until the little light blinks AWAKE on the sleeping charge and quietly counts down its minutes to glory. "OKAY MOVE!!!" he advises and starts running.

Tartarus, the Pirate Lord gives a curiously high pitched laugh as he deflects the sword blows of the wounded Greystorm on the durasteel of his blaster barrel, ducking behind cover in a bid to avoid the incoming blaster fire, before lifting and hurling the dead body of a Weequay pirate at Jax. "Tartarus prevails!" the skinny armored Hutt bellows, shrill. In the corridor, no sooner do the ominous, black clad bootfalls ascend the crudely carved stone steps than the placed charges blink rapidly, erupting in a cascade of sparks and smoke that makes ruin of the last magnetic lock binding the acolyte cannon to the asteroids surface. Unseen to those inside, the colossal weapon drifts loose of the stony surface, to sudden cheers aboard the Thunder Forge. "Get tractor beams locked on, NOW," the captain demands, reporting over the comms, <<Thunder Forge to Fleet: we are locked on- I need another few minutes to get the target secured->> The bridge rocks slightly as laser blasts from a strafing TIE impact their shields.

The saving grace for Black Squadron against the first dozen TIE/sf escorts is the asteroid field which forces the myriad vessels to break formation and refuses them a clear field of fire with which to drown the X-wings in emerald lasers. It turns what would have been a joust into a back alley knife fight. The special forces Order pilots are sharp and fresh, making the duel among the detritus of Hutt Mining operations an ugly one.

The other saving grace for the Resistance is long experience with terrible luck, and ready preparation for it. The Sacrifice, holding the extraction point of the Renegade and Thunder Forge, comes under fire by the very first wave of TIEs from the distant Resurgent class.. Fighters against a corvette is a bad match, but winking out of a micro-jump in the space surrounding the Sacrifice are the third of the Resistance's saving graces. <<Rogue Leader to Rogue Squadron: go to work. This isn't the day the spark goes out.>>

Striding through the corridor without the slightest reservation, the black-robed figure of the Supreme Leader remains stolid beneath the mask as explosions rock the facility, the bloom of fire reflected harshly in the chrome lines of his masked helmet. The gloved hands at his sides are balled into fists, and as he enters the room, the seemingly implacable advance is not slowed as he slams one of those fists forward. The private demolitions expert is tossed like a rag doll, slammed against the far wall with a sick crunch, and the masked face turns toward its next victim, a silent wraith of rage intent on destroying everyone in his path.

"Bloody ungovernable sinkpissers," Oran remarks at the sight of the chaos currently surrounding the ground forces, though it's unclear whether he means the Resistance soldiers, the mercenaries who failed to stop them, or all of the above. A gloved black hand reaches out toward a random target, a man perhaps on his way to help a comrade, and an unseen Force grabs hold of Merek, whipping him upwards, hard, like a puppet with an unkind operator at the strings. It slams him into the intersection of wall and ceiling, and it seems like a good thing that he's wearing armor, because the result is just slightly left of fatal.

Brig Gen Greystorm's voice is not among those cheering, but while she hadn't bent a knee, she had bent an arm, just to reach into the folds of her charismatic outerwear and pull out small flask of 'medicine' for a small sip. For the nerves...damaged and all. And second, for the small step toward success as that canon floats free of its pirate base, hopefully to be embraced by the Thunderforge's beam.

Poe had a special place in his heart for TIEs. The part of the heart that didn't care for them at all. Having piloted one gave Poe insight over the TIE capabilities, but the newer ones seemed to move brilliantly smooth. The one he dove after was moving just as Black leader was, and Poe had to twist and fire simultaneously to score a hit. <<"Stick with it, Resistance. We're not backing down until the mission is accomplished!">>

<<"Come on...">> This was pretty intense for old Elrych, sweat streaming down his face as he maneuvers around the very experianced pilots of the First Order. He's doing his best chasing down the one he managed to scare a hit on just a few moments earlier. He's caught on though and manages to evade sucessfully, his skill outmatching the Jedi's in that moment. He keeps and eye on his sensors, looking for the Messenger. Nothing yet. It wasn't time to focus on how they let that large, very large, black, compensating for something shuttle get through their screen. THey did and people were likely going to die horribly because of it. He could beat himself up later. The intense chase and the overwhelming numbers leave him dancing and watching one at his tail as well. He manges to get a hit on him, knocking his shields down to a pervious level... all the work baby had just done being thrown out the window. <<"Krif lead... these guys are... out of my price range.">> He grumbles. <<"And before you ask, no it's just a saying. I'm happy with my stipant.">>

Between the two, it seems that Merek with Yelsik seem to have completed task, though it also looks like Jax has taken too many hits with the blasters. He moves towards the man and reaches about to pull him upon his shoulder only to be struck back with the Force with so much power that he cracks his bones up and even manages to cut him with the sheer force of hitting metal. The man does do all he can to stand up, and moves then to Jax again, noticing that he does not have a leg, and picks him up, and also if he manages upwards a bit more while he shifts him upon his shoulder. He then shifts the man's sword to belt to protect it. His own rifle is not even held any more at this point, seeming to relax at the nice sling.

The man looks to Nova, and a nod to say he is following, while he looks to make for the exit, as best that he can. Fortunately, he can walk even if he has so many broken bones, he isn't going to leave a man behind, as he looks to the one he's following, and makes to the lift.

Years of training as a soldier, being a jedi, Kriff being a Greystrom means being too tough to die or to do it looking good. The Weequay's jagged armor had cut deep into his left leg and left it useless. The man was bleeding out but he was moving and then he felt Merek go flying outfrom beneath him. There's a painful thud as he hits the ground and it brings a moment of clarity as he drags himself onto the lift. He calls out with a cough, "Moonbeam, no heroes." He did leave behind Oran a second crystal sword.

"Well, looks like we've officially worn out our welcome..." Nova says, wincing in sympathy for the poor, dead pudding that used to be Yelsik, and the staggering Merek. And it falls to her so secure the way out. Which she does. The veteran Sergeant dashes for the lift, kicking part of the makeshift barricade away and getting the door open for Merek to get in. Once he's there, she ducks in after him and slaps the button, shutting the doors and sending the 'lift down. Destination: Hangar. And hopefully a quick escape.

Meanwhile, Pvt Yelsik is no longer running and ne'er again will his squadmates laugh at his jokes or marvel at his stories of late night conquests. Instead, they'll probably just reallocate his nicosticks, disappear the bottle of booze from his footlocker, and makeup some wonderfully heroic, BS story of how he met his untimely end. Caory's limp form is sprawled on the duracrete floor, slowly leaking fluid from gaps in his armor's seal. Those bright, baby blues stare outward, permanently fixed into a look of surprise from when his next step took quite a liftoff.

The corridor of death very nearly becomes the end for more than just Caory Yelsik; as the survivors pile into the lift, Tartarus the Hutt lunges after them, trying in vain to force himself onto the lift with the fleeing troopers, just chance finally breaks against him, and grasping hands are unable to obstruct the swift-shutting doors of the lift. Slamming a thin armored fist against the durasteel and tossing aside the heavy blaster that Jaxs sword had cut into, the skinny Hutt draws his shoulders back and turns to face the, "Supreme Leader.." For once, the self proclaimed Pirate Lord isn't sure what to say.

In the void, a duel of aces continues, as Black Squadron wheels and trades shots with the escort fighters of Kylo Ren. <<Thunder Forge to Fleet: we have it! Objective is being locked into place, we are underway toward the extraction point. Ground team, what is your status??>>

At the extraction point, the legendary X-wings of Rogue Squadron slice ruthlessly into the first wave of TIE/fo fighters on approach from the Resurgent. Multiple kills are called out over the comms. <<Hold strong, Resistance, we have the door.>>

The masked figure takes a moment to stare back at the skinny Hutt, answering in a vocoded voice that is deep and artificially processed. "Say nothing. Your failure is still up in the air," he states as he turns on the hovering cannon, adrift of its moorings, and both hands lift towards it, his helmeted head tilting backwards as he calls upon the Force, feeding on the anger inside of him. Invisible lines wind around the base of the weapon, twining around it with tenuous energy, and the dark warrior gathers them in his fists. To the onlooker, he appears to quake under terrible strain, his sleeves tightening as he pulls down with all of his power, and the cannon itself begins to echo that strain, resisting the pull of the beams, metal groaning under the conflicting stress.

Darksiders in the full power of their wrath are not happy prospect to tangle with -- as evidenced by the way Merek is being held together by his armor, and the way the Demolitions private is leaking blood out of his. Fortunately for the escaping ground team, however, the Supreme Leader and his minion are presently preoccupied by the cannon and its ascent. Oran reaches out and lends his strength to Kylo's. It seems a difficult task, judging by the way he's forgotten completely about the lift, the Hutt, every scrap of power funneled into the strain of holding onto a large object presently being tugged by a monstrous spaceship in full power. A terrible creak roars through the vicinity, a groan of tortured metal. A *snap*, as footing from the base and a power regulation unit snap off and crumble. Oran grasps like he's trying to catch something that dropped, and then 'holds' again, teeth gritted. Sweaty. Hair not on fleek. It's an unglamorous business, when you're trying not to share your toys with the other kids.

Ambrosia waits to hear a response - if any - from the Messenger's team to Thunderforge's call. She's gotten up from her seat to shadow that same console again, as if her glare is going to transmit her will through the device, space, and time to magically make everything okay. It won't, but it will make the Lieutenant manning that station just a little more nervous. The temper of old 'Ice Queen Aderanne' mightn't fuel any supernatural Force, but it, too, is not a breeze to tangle with. There are stories.

"How quickly can the 'forge suck that thing up?" she softly inquires, voice even and low.

<<"All call signs, break contact. Focus on escorting our shuttle back. Prep jump coordinates to evacuate.">> Poe adjusts in his seat and makes the proper input with his navcomputer while drawing closer to the station. <<"Thanks for the back up, Wedge.">> Poe looks out the starboard portion of his craft. <<Renegade, break contact and get out while you can.">>

Once Merek, Nova, and Jax have all made it into the lift, he notices that it seems that Yelsik isn't with him. That is as he saw him when the lift escaped with them, and he looks from beneath the helmet towards Jax as he stands up towards the side with a hand shifted towards one side of the man as he takes some medical hypospray from the belt and places that to him, and uses that to assist in keeping him well enough to bring to the ship. He then he looks to Nova, "I... If we work together we can manage to get him to the ship between us." The man looks like he is kept together with his armor, only willpower keeping him up with Nova, with blood upon his armor also. He shifts so he can put his shoulder to Jax and waits so that Nova can pick up what he can't manage him self. He makes his way to the ship with them both, "Hey man, we got you, you just keep on with it man," he knows he was able to make his way in with them after his assistance became assistance to the roof. He is able to assist but it's obvious from the look of his that he isn't quite in the same place all the others are.

Elrych breaks off contract as the order comes and starts punching in information into his navcomputer. He forms up on Poe's wing to help protect the shuttle as the boarding crew loads up and presumably takes off.

"One foot in front of the other, guys," Nova says, putting a burst of rifle fire into the 'lift's control panel as they exit. It should keep anyone from following them /that/ way, anyway. She slings the weapon and ducks under Jax's arm, bearing as much of the man's weight as she can. "Almost... there..." she grates, half hauling the wounded men up the ramp. She bangs on the control panel, getting the hatch shut behind them. "Pilot, get us out of here!" The job's nearly done. Helping Merek deposit Jax into a seat, she turns to the comm panel. <<Boarding party to General, we're leaving. We ran into Kylo Ren and another one of his creepy sorcerers. We have casualties incoming. Private Yelsik is... is now a hero of the cause of freedom,>> she says wearily. <<We're on our way home. Don't let the house leave without us, okay?>>

As the tractor beams slowly but surely haul the cannon up and away, Kylo continues to pull against the base of the cannon, but eventually it becomes clear that the slip to the void is inevitable, and his arms drop, shaking, to his sides. A long moment of silence passes while he stares down at the battered floor of the chamber, and then with a whirring of actuators, the helmet is removed and dropped with a clang. Beads of sweat stand out on his pale forehead, the scar etched into his face an angry red.

Matched by the blade of the lightsaber that comes ripping forth from the handle that is suddenly in his hand, the stench of scorched ozone quickly followed by sizzling Hutt as the Supreme Leader cleaves the thin example of the species' head from his wormy body with a wordless shout. A second chop sends a chunk flying against the wall, a third splitting the remaining tail portion in twain, the blade beaten down a few more times against what remains as the shouting continues. Standing over the smoking pieces of Hutt, eyes downcast, he deactivates the saber, collecting his helmet from the floor, and turns to head back down the corridor without a word.

Oran manages to break a magnetic flashback suppressor and pull a whole series of external housing plates off the ascending cannon, all of which fall down on top of and around him. He's hit by a couple pieces of debris and plating, ow. But it's in vain, the Acolyte Cannon is gone, up and away -- his arms drop too, breathing heavily, looking over just in time to see Kylo avenge Jax (sort of) by chopping that Hutt into a number of smaller Hutt pieces. There's now Hutt goo leaking all over the floor from where cauterization isn't complete, and mingling with dead Resistance goo. Gross. Brows lifted, smart enough not to actually comment, Oran glances toward the lift as though wondering whether those Res boys left yet and if they got room, but you know, that could be awkward. So he turns and walks silently after Kylo, disappearing after the galaxy's powerful, unstable, extraordinarily pissed off - But still Supreme - leader.

Yelsik. Yelsik. Short fellow, big mouth? Yelsik. <<Understood, Sergeant>> Greystorm looks to Capt Kross, then utters a single, totally uneccesary but fairly cautionary suggestion of <<Hurry.>> While Kross deals with getting the Renegade prepared, she assigns a task to the next available uniform to "The moment we blip back into the Ichren system, send word to Blackrock to make ready their medbay. And find me a pilot...unless she plans to dock up." She's already strapping back into her seat, ready to be cast into the dizzying array of hyperspace.

The fight in space turns increasingly into flight, as ever increasing numbers of TIE fighters weave their way through the Sunbelt to flood space with malevolent cannon fire. The occasional flash of a lost TIE happens now more rarely, and not for Resistance shots, but for the pure attrition of forcing hundreds of fighters through an asteroid field at speed. The Thunder Forge rocks with the strafing runs of massed TIE squadrons, but makes steady progress through the Sunbelt and toward the extraction point. Rogue Squadron and the besieged Sacrifice fire into an increasing swarm of First Order snubfighters, as the Renegade rotates on its axis to add barraged of turbolasers; effective more for keeping lanes of space clear of enemy fighters than actually hitting anything. Black Squadron fights to keep the First Order tide from swallowing the little Calamari cruiser as the Messenger comes aboard and it clears the Subnbelt, and soon the space behind them is filled with Orderly aggression.

Aboard the wrecked station of the now dismembered and oozing Tartarus, there is uneasy silence, as the bad news must ultimately be reported to their master: <<Supreme Leader. My Lord- The.. Resistance ships have escaped into hyperspace.>>