Log:Resistance: Mad Tionese and Pilots
Mad Tionese and Pilots
OOC Date: December 12, 2018 (Optional)
Location: Blackrock, Fighter Hangar
Participants: Ektor, Tallissan Lintra,
°°°< Fighter Hangar - YRD Blackrock Starbase >°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° This is an off-shoot hangar connected to the main landing bay of the station. The main landing bay is visible just beyond the open gates of the hangar and the decor is roughly the same experience as out there, perhaps with a bit less lighting though.
Droids are milling about as they push cargo across the floors or move on to their next repair / refurbishing job.
Ektor's legs are visible from halfway inside the wing array of a Preybird fighter. The cowling has been removed to give a technician (or apparently Ektor) access to the interior wiring, and wing frame. "So yeah, like I was saying, once this is secured, I'm gonna need you to let me know if the power spikes, yeah Tenner? Just pipe up if we got a problem, or a power surge is building in the bird's reactor, so I can shut it down before we fry the wiring. I'll take silence to be a good thing, yeah?" Unknown to Ektor, the droid is nowhere to be seen.
"Who are you talking to?" Tallie hunkers down on her haunches and twists her head to see under the cowling that the legs are poking out from. "Do you always talk to yourself, Ick?" The light catches on her honey colored hair caught back in its serious bun as she cranes her head. "Don't think this is the moment to be running those tests!" she says more loudly.
"Huh?" Ektor starts a bit as an unexpected Tallie crouches down, and peers in at him. "What you mean? I'm talking to Tenner, he's plugged into the bird, monitoring the- he left me here alone, didn't he? Of course he did." Grumbling through the latter half of his realization, he leaves the power couplings detached, and doesn't try a test run, just yet. "And sure I talk to myself, yeah? I'm at least twenty percent less likely to tell MYSELF to shut up, than anyone else, is." A wink to Tallie, as she peers under the wing. "Hang on, I'ma climb back out."
The mental eyeroll is much more exaggerated than the raised-eyebrow-eyes-shut-shake of her head she gives him. "What would make him gear off on his own like that? You could have electrocuted yourself, you know?" She rises as he gets ready to slide out, "I will always tell you to shut up so that puts me at one hundred and you at eighty. Heh. My math is impeccable today."
"Right?" Ektor snickers at her display of mathematical prowess. Sliding out from under the wing, and passing a hand over his face to clear the inevitable sweat that gathers from working inside a wing array. "I dunno, maybe Tenner saw a good looking load lifter roll by, who knows?" Shrugging lazily, he leans on the heavy fighter's wing and grins. "You ever flown a Preybird, Kill Tally?" he wonders of the Lieutenant.
"Nope. Never flew one." She eyes the bird critically. "Okay, I simmed one a few times for the fun of it but actually take one out. No. I'm not as /old/ as you are." Humor glints in her blue eyes.
Ektor flaps his lips in a dismissive "Pfff! I bet you never even flew a Y-wing, have you? No eye for a good warbird, I bet you're all 'ooh, I gotta fly fast, and enjoy starfighters that are still new, and cutting edge, and don't have parts falling off'," he snorts in affected distaste, spoiled by an easy grin that bends his lip, and the good humor glittering in his narrowed eyes. "Well!" greasy palms are clapped together, and rubbed in anticipation. "You are in luck, yeah? See, military grady birds ain't got no room for modification, yeah? They're all engineered to death with no room for improvising..." That's also called 'efficient design', Ektor. "Now, a Preybird? Got a piece of drek hyperdrive.. triple modifier, but real good sublight engines- runs almost as fast as a T-85, yeah? Two heavy laser cannons and a pair of concussion missile tubes, standard. But now- NOW, I get to start my genius plan to make this warbird even better."
Battle hardened Tally takes a step backward from the mad flapping of his enthusiasm, wariness and the mesmerized look of someone watching an animal having the zoomies warring on her face. "Think there might be a reason for no room for mods, Ick? Just maybe?" Still she takes a step in to look closer at the bird, skepticism narrowing her eyes, "What? What are you going to do?"
A reason? "There is: a sad lack of imagination," Ektor states, with confidence and a crooked grin. "See, most people who get hold of a Preybird, first thing they do is upgrade the hyperdrive. And if you use up all the extra frame space, you can manage to get one of these up to... about the same hyperdrive multiplier as your stock military grade fighter," he notes with a roll of his shoulders. "Other people, they look at this thing and they say 'I'll upgrade the hyperdrive a BIT, but if I hotwire the engines and push the red line with a thruster upgrade, it could run as fast as an interceptor'. Which is an idea.. but nah, I got an even BETTER idea.."
Slender fingers slide to rub the back of her neck as she considers the crazed man who will be flying formation next to her, much less in the same quadrant. "I don't know where you are going with this. Tenner probably knew better than stick around for this." She takes a deep breath before against her better judgment asking, "What better idea?"
"You want to look away, but you can't, yeah?" Ektor observes with clear amusement. "Here's my genius idea- and bear with me: ....rockets." Holding up a finger to appeal for patience, "Hang on, hang on.. I got it all worked out. There's room on the wing frame to mount another missile hardpoint with a magazine for four concussion missiles, and if I re-arrange the nose configuration, I can fit another tube and magazine in the body, to bring this killer up to FIVE concussion missile tubes. If I fire-link five missile tubes? That's more firepower than a super-heavy bomber, in a body that runs like an X-wing." He looks at Tallie intently to gauge her response.
Tallie does want to look away. Who wouldn't want to look away? But it is the human thing to watch an accident unfold, flinching, looking away and then looking back ready to yell. "Oooooh! Noooo!" When she is finally able to articulate, "What are you thinking? You ever here of a Mon Calamari squid? You shoot off a missile and they will find you orbiting the nearest high mass object next you will shoot back so far. I mean what? And why? Just why?"
"Nah, never have," Ektor answers to hearing of a Calamari squid. It doesn't seem to dissuade him, though. "Arright, okay, so maye instead of a hard fire-link, it's a chained series of shots linked to the same target lock, bust STILL, idea can work," the Tionese insists. As for why? "...What you mean 'why'? ...Five missile tubes," he repeats as if self-explanatory. "Firepower of a super-heavy bomber. I mean, no bird I ever seen has teeth like that. Not a B-wing, not a Y-wing. That's even more than the old TIE bombers, and it's still fast. Just.. just imagine what a few volleys from that baby would do!" he grins like a man in the desert, spotting water. "Four volleys could kill a corvette- BY ITSELF."
"Why do you think this kind of thing has never been done before, O great Genius of the Ages? What is the shielding like on this baby? Like a TIE?" Real worry creases her brows as she considers him.
Ektor shakes his head, "Nah, the shielding is alright. Ain't as good as a Y-wing, sure, but pretty good for civilian grade." As for why no one has tried it before.. "Yanno, I ask myself that a lot. I guess just scared of new ideas. Same reason nobody ever went for my idea of a bacta hot tub. Really though, given the choice wouldn't you rather heal up in a bacta hot tub, rather than one of them tubes with the breath masks?"
Bright white teeth bite her bottom lip hard, this time it is not to contain her laughter. She looks down considering her words, mouth opening as she starts to frame a question, a quick look up at him followed by a shake of her head. At the last she is able to formulate a question without her fists clenching in a desire to shake some sense into him. "Ick. Ektor. Have you talked to any engineers about this? Is it structurally able to take the kick of that kind of missile launch?
"Yeah, they told me hot bacta would smell terrible, and wouldn't actually heal anybody," Ektor returns, cracking a chuckle after he deliberately answers the wrong question. "No lie, yeah I talked to the Chief about the missiles. And she usually just throws wrenches and drek at me, and yells about how I let my fighters get shot up too much, and she thought it could work. So yeah, I ain't a total lunatic," he quips, adding with a wink, "Only about eight percent crazy. That was your math, yeah?"
It's that same mesmerized look again that slackens her jaw and brings a baffled smile to her face. "Hot bacta. Phooey. Eigh-ty percent. Not eight. Those are just bad odds. Really? The Chief is giving you the go-ahead on this? You guys are /friends/, right?"
Ektor chuckles quietly. "Relax, Kill Tally," he drawls, letting his head tilt to a lazy angle. "I'm eighty percent crazy, not stupid. Chief can definitely make it work. Hundred percent. I was half kidding with the bacta hot tub. Like, I KNOW that would be better, but nobody can figure out how to make it work. The rocket thing I know is legit." Still leaning on the Preybird wing, he prompts, "What is your real name, yeah?"
The flip from maniac to someone masquerading as sane makes Tallie blink and then purse her lips. "I asked if she was your friend. But still," she gives the Preybird a doubtful look, "if the Chief can do it, I believe in it. But what I don't understand is why this damned crate and others like it weren't already modded that way. Must be a reason." Her face buttons up on him, the expression reserved for young out of place recruits needing to be put back in their place. "What is your full name then, Apollyon? I'll trade you."
"Yeah, suppose she is," Ektor muses on the subject of Chief West. "She won't DELIBERATELY get me killed, anyway," he muses with a shrug. "Well.. For starters, probably because one black market missile rig, magazine, and hardpoint set up costs more that another Preybird. And I'm talking about rigging up THREE, so," a lazy roll of his head, drawing a pop from the pilot's neck. Still leaning back, he holds both arms out to the sides. "Ektor-Xer Apollyon, Tionese Third-Worlder, and best bomber jockey left alive," he drawls plainly.
"Ah! the world itself? Not the industrial moons? Must be a lot of fishing down there. I never hear anyone use the last part of your name - Xer. Does it mean something?" Tallie measures him, tapping her foot. "My name for a good bottle of wine, did you say?" She grins, not entirely with good intentions behind it, and then shrugs, "Tallissan."
Ektor snickers, "Yeah, I come from the uninhabited water planet. Nah, blondie, I'm a Third-Worlder as in I come from Tion Three; the third moon." He admits with raised brows and a lazy nod, "By coincidence though, the fishing on Tion Three is pretty good." The latter half of his given name gets a flat chuckle. "Yeah, we get a second name to honor an ancestor, and the Tionese are epic liars. See, way back when Tion was important, there was this King, Xer the Eighth. He had one kid, Xim the Conqueror. But see, it's common knowledge that Xim died with no kids, and still half the boys born back home still get called Xim or Xer. This great big stupid lie we all just... go along with," he drawls with another snicker. "And girl, there is a bottle of whatever you want, whenever you want it, yeah?"
"I'm not inviting you to drink it with me Xer the 120th. Boy. Oh, so my impression that you did not come from some civilized place was wrong? Wonder how I made that mistake? Will wonders never cease!" Her one-sided smile makes a dimple beside her mouth as she shakes her head at him. "So where did you get enough credits to buy three of these missile arrays if they cost so much, Sir Xer?"
Ektor cracks a knowing smile, eyes narrowed with amusement. "More the fool you, yeah? My world was civilized way back when the first two Senators looked at each other and said 'maybe we oughta make some kinda Republic, yeah?'. If we happen to look like a bunch of ignorant, backwater halfwits now, that's just on account of the rest a you not knowing what kriffing sophistication looks like." A cackle follows. The missile arrays draw a slow exhale. "Tallie.. I got half a squadron stashed in the ruins, back home. I'm a kriffing pirate, who half the Resistance would've hunted down like the piece of drek that I am, if it weren't for the First Order being such colossal Hutt-suckers. And kriff, we can't take credits with us, yeah?"
Tallie assumes the look of someone for whom the heavens have opened up and shone a light on. "You mean that your people have been on Tion so long that you had time to go back to the dark ages and totally forget the light of civilization after a brief turn with bronze axes and /then/ became pirates? Pirate. I believe it. Though it's not a good practice to call oneself names. You might start to believe it." She returns the narrow eyed look. "Are you sharing your squadron with the Resistance then?"
"That's right!" Ektor hollers back. "We have forgotten more about being worth anything than most planets ever will," he boasts, as if this were a good thing. As for sharing his squadron, "We tried that, once; the whole Resistance thing. Didn't turn out too good. Now, most of them was smart and said 'maybe we just lie low for awhile, and try not to get conquered, yeah?' But me, I was all 'nah, kriff everything, I'm gonna blow up as much of the Same Old Order as I can, first. And as for names.. Well, you got good pirates.." he looks at one hand. "And you got bad pirates," he looks at the other, clapping them abruptly together. "Then you got me: I'm a kriffing GREAT pirate."
A little giggle erupts, Tallie covers her mouth which just makes it worse as she snickers through her nose. "There has to be more to this though," she says more soberly, almost recovered from the little fits of laughter. "Why risk yourself? The other aren't."
Ektor cocks his head to a curious angle. "For real? Outta everybody, I figured you'd get it without asking, yeah? What with you coming back from the dead to keep fighting, and all." A dry sniff. "Because there ain't no 'after'. There's just the fight, now. Back home, we got this big-ass fish called a vulnok. Only way it can breathe is if it keeps swimming. If it ever stops, it dies." A crooked grin and a lazy shrug. "I'm a fighter. Been a fighter all my life, and that's how I'll die."
The young woman's laughter departs as quickly as a solar wind. A nod, a look away before she steels herself to look him in the eye. She gives him a curious canted nod of her head acknowledging someone who understands what it is like to continue, no matter what. "You laugh louder than anyone and are as reckless as they come without putting the rest of us in jeopardy. I..." she shrugs unhappily. "I should have known."
Ektor cracks another easy smile and laughs a bit. "No other way to be yeah? Enjoy it while it lasts." A wink seals the sentiment. "Come on, I think I remember something about a good drink, yeah?" Stepping off his lean against the wing, the Tionese strolls toward the open cockpit and rummages around, drawing out a bottle. "Now it ain't wine.. but this is a start."
