Log:Resistance: Of Speeders and Meds

The Resistance goes after med supplies

OOC Date: November 11, 2016
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Gren Delede, Sar Yavok, Sabella Lockheart, Triz Dermout, Kath Hounds

Sar's been kinda scarce around the base lately, but it's for good reason. Seems the Old Man's been concocting a scheme to help out the good folks that reside on the peaceful, idyllic Smuggler's Moon.

A few folks have been hand-picked for the operation, and have been gathered in the briefing room of Hound Base. Sar is positioned near the center holo console.

"Alright, y'all, find your seats," he begins, tapping some commands into the terminal, and bringing up a 3D representation of the Wayside Medical Clinic.

"This is the Wayside Medical Clinic located in the Corellian District. The owner, Doctor Eevy Kal, is treating it as neutral ground for the length of the Nar Shaddaa conflict. I'm not opposed to this, as long as it's true," Sar says.

"Problem is, they're runnin' out of supplies. Not enough bacta, bandages, and medicine to treat the collateral damage that this war is causin'. I've agreed to help," Sar says, tapping a button and bringing up another 3D image; this time of a mercenary band's logo.

"One of the chief suppliers of pain medicine is having their convoys routinely disrupted by a Rodian swoop gang, likely under Eebua's thumb," he explains, hands folding over his chest.

"We're going to mobilize the Mynock, escort the shipment, and make sure that it gets to where it's going." He looks between those in the room and adds, "We're gears up in ten."

With that, Sar moves to make his exit towards the Docking Section.

"Oh. Lovely. Rodians." Gren says once Sar is giving his threadbare briefing. The former Imperial's distaste for the little monsters is well known, despite his taste for their food. "I've got to go find some proper attire. It's been some time since I've had to consider combat with my feet on the ground." He wrinkles his nose, and walks out of the briefing area, following Sar.

Of course Triz is late, she rushes in, hoping to find a seat in the back where she could slip in unnoticed. But when she sees that there are not but a few here she stands out like a sore thumb. So with head held high she strolls in, "Please, continue," she says as she goes to take a seat but then everyone is leaving so she turns to follow. <fixed pose>

Sabella Lockheart is around and listening to the talktalk as it were, she titls her head a bit and lifts her head with a curious glancet owards Triz as she is running in. A brow lifting and she looks a bit amused before shaking her head and she then looks back to Sar as he continues to talk about the plan at hand. Once all is said an done sh enods and is up brushing her hands off and is following along. "Sounds like a plan to me." She would be sporting a bandage on a arm but it is covered by her jacket rather well at the moment. An amused look is sent to Triz once more. "Welcome to the fun, glad you to join."

Before they know it, the Hounds are up and away. Colonel Yavok is standing in the rear of the ship, very near the door, hand gripping tightly on a rail. He's wearing his repainted, repurposed Imperial Stormtrooper armor that still bears the sigil of the gone but not forgotten Rebel Yell. Accompanying him in the back of the ship is the good Captain Delede. Triz is in the pilot's chair, and Sabella's on the sensors. So far, so good.

The Mynock is about 45 seconds away from the drop zone.

Little does its intrepid crew know, however, the repulsorcraft carrying the shipment has already fallen under attack!

Delede's not far from Sar, and is dressed in some of the standard issue trooper armor, though he's wearing his usual Bantha hide jacket over-top of it. He's armed, as usual, with only his DL-44 and a frown. "If this is all a bunch of nonesense, and I don't get to put some holes in Rodians...I'm going to be bloody well pissed. I had a mountain of paperwork to finish." A glance toward the cockpit, and he adds..."At least we brought one of the decent ones to fly..."

Leaning her head close to Sabe "How's the arm," she asks softly. As for her showing up late "I got it good enough. We are going somewhere, doing something and then coming home. No problem." It's not long before Triz finds her self in the pilots seat, hands on the controls as she flies the ship. Bigger than she is used to but the basics are the same, right? She calls out over her shoulder "Forty five seconds for drop." Glancing over to Sabe "You getting anything?" She, of course heard Gren "I heard that," saying in return.

Sabella Lockheart wiggles her fingers a bit at Triz. "It's fine." Though she doesn't look at Triz while saying that as she moves on by and is taking over a seat she is use to having in the ship. She sends a curious glance towards Gren and smirks a bit. "Right..." Is said with a soft chuckle. She glances back to the sensors humming lightly to herself. "Looks good to me."

"Don't take Doctor Kal for a liar," Sar says, looking over to Gren. He points to the man's chest pocket and says, "Don't forget to zip that up before he touch down. You'll lose your flask."

He slides one of the durasteel viewports open and looks around outside. "Moon's gone to shit, that's for sure. More so, I mean."

Things do not look fine. In fact, one of the swoop bikers has just hoisted a small rocket launcher from the back of his bike and is aiming at the already decommissioned repulsorcraft, that the Mynock crew will soon find crashed over a concrete divider, the engines smoking.

"It's snug in there....."Gren begins to protest, before looking out of the viewport that Sar's just opened. "Girlie. Follow that fucked up sky-buggy." He's already drawn his heavy blaster, and is eyeing the rear door's control panel. "Yavok. Hold onto something!" Delede takes two steps, grabs the Mynock's cargo winch, and clamps it to his belt. "Cabin pressure is going to be fucked!" The control handle is yanked, and with a loud *HISS*, the door pops open. And then the SFC Captain is leaping out of the Mynock, and falling/swinging through the air. There's what is likely going to be a -very- inaccurate spraying of blaster fire toward the Rodian with a rocket launcher. Best get his attention now, right?

"Roger that, Boss," Triz replies to Gren. She waits for the count of three before she begins to back the craft. She never saw it, the missile, till it was flashing in a roar past the viewport "Bloody hell! Where did that come from?" as she looks back forward and not at the missile that goes on past them. Wide eyes look over to Sabe, blinking, then looks back forward. "Do you see anything, Sabe? Cause I sure don't." When the pressure drops she opens her mouth so that her ears clear and she can hear.

"Yeah, alright," Sar says as Delede jumps out of the ship.

"Can't have no SFC bitch one-uppin' me. Never live it down," he adds, snuffing a cigarillo out on the bulkhead and tossing it out of the open hatch, before he places the trooper helmet on his head.

Following in the footsteps of his cigar, Sar Yavok dives out of the hole in the wall, glove of his ST gear gripping the winch cable and sliding down after the Captain. His EE-3 is brought to bear as he hefts it and attempts a shot at the rocketeer. It goes wide, but the Resistance gang is successful in drawing his ire.

<<Dermout, bring us down, and pick these fuckers off. We're gettin' this hunk o' junk out of here.>>

The aforementioned 'hunk o' junk' is the repulsorcraft, manned entirely by dead men, slumped over their seats, smoldering holes in their bodies. The shipment of medical supplies is still in tact, however, and securely tucked into the back of the vehicle.

Two Rodians are trying to change this.

Once his freefall has ended with a bit of an unpleasant jerk... "What in the world was I thinking...." Gren mutters under his breath, as he's able to stabilize, and wrap his left arm around the cable. <<<Once you've got us stable, we'll attach this fucking winch to the supply crate.>>> Until then? His DL-44 is up, and leveled at the approaching swoopers. The first shot is close, but zips under the quickly closing swoop bike's repulsors. A muttered curse, and he closes one eye, because that is basically marksmanship one oh one. The second shot tears a hole in the second bike's fuselage, causing it to wobble and smoke, but leaving a pretty pissed off Rodian at its controls. The third shot? It's pretty perfect for a pilot dangling from a cable on a smog-filled moon. The red bolt punches through the swoop bike's control yolk, and leaves a pilot holding the steering mechanism up, and frantically trying to pilot a very quick bike that's control surfaces have lost all responsiveness. It takes less than a second for him to impact a skywalk and explode into little green bits.

Triz scans the area as she gets used to the headset as well as the controls of the almost fighter. "It's ok, Sabe. It was my bad for missing it. Just not used to this damn headthingy." She reaches up and adjust the VR headset and once it's right "Ahh, there we go. Much better." Hearing Sar she dives the ship "Sabe, target those SOBs," she says as she still gets used to the ship, one hand on the stick the other flipping switches. "You have control of the weapon," she tells her. "Let me get us lined up a bit better. Hopefully I won't sling Sar and Gren off the cables." Which causes her a snerk. She expertly moves the ship to be as stable as possible but still helping as she can with the line up for Sabe to shoot the weapon.

Sabella Lockheart hears Sar and Gren and shakes her head slightly at the thought of them hanging from the cables. "Cause that is a great idea..." She blinks hearing Triz and ahs faintly. "You remember I'm just a mechanic right?" Though reall at this point what choice does she have? She takes over the weapon controls working on lining up a shot, which missing but manages to hit a few things at least and the process causes debris to go flying and hitting Rodain's in the process and perhaps sending a few falling backwards in the process, or who knows!

<<Disembarking, now," Sar Yavok says, releasing his grip on the cable and dropping to the ground at high speed. The EE-3 remains raised and lets off a trio of bolts, two of them smacking into the back of the Rodian who had just managed to pry open the rear cargo bay of the repulsorcraft. He topples over undramatically.

The only opposition left alive, crawls his way along the ground, commlink raising to his gross mouth. He barks a cry for help into it that is answered in the affirmative. Moments later, a chunk of duracrete set in action by Sabella's poorly(?) aimed heavy turret blast lands on his head, smushing it real good.

However, anybody monitoring a sensor array would become very aware of the incoming duo of Z-95s, responding to the request for assisstance.

"Fucking Rodians." Gren says, unhooking the wench from his belt, and moving over toward the repulsortruck's cargo compartment. He does spit on the alien corpses as he passes, of course. For good measure. <<<Give us a minute to get this hooked up, Triz. Tell Sabella that she smushed him real nice...>>> He sort of sideeyes Sar, and takes up one of the containers, as he tugs it clear of the wreck. "Give me a hand, damnit. Damn oaf, hauling and lifting is all grunts are good for." The two intact speeder bikes idling nearby get a glance.

Triz brings the very agile Mynock over the target letting the hooks come with in feet of the target load. Now much more confident flying the strange craft. <<There we go, Bosses, lowering...BREAK BREAK, hostiles incoming!>> She doesn't even question Sabella, full trust in her co-pilot and new found friend. Triz swings the ship so that it is facing the two approadhing fighters, trying to give it as small a target as possible. She then throws the throttles full forward, angles the thrust modules so that the ship will run back the path that the two headhunters are coming from, to fly under them. Laser blast bracket the ship but miss from the two fighters. "Ok, my turn," Triz mutters as she tries to get a good firing angle on the bad guys.

"You just hate that I'm your commanding officer, now, don't you? We were sorta on an even keel in Rebel Yell, but now you actually have to listen to what I say. That's fuckin' with you real bad, ain't it?" Sar says with a grin as he twirls the EE-3 on his finger and slips it into his holster.

"Shit!" he shouts, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the head with a heavy cargo hook. His helmeted face turns to the skies as he watches the Mynock's engines flare to life and speed the fighter away.

"Alright, Captain. Remember that remnant bitch we gutted on Kuat. With the ganger bodyguards?" He jerks his helmet towards the swoop bikes and moves to grab one of the crates from the bay of the repulsorcraft.

"You're just in charge 'cause you have like two days seniority." Gren replies, giving Sar the finger, before sighing at the announcement that they have incoming. "You wouldn't know what to without me." Delede holsters his blaster, hefts his own crate in both hands, and starts toward the swoop bikes with a little bit of a pained expression. His face says that he isn't really pleased by this particular turn of events. It also says he might have a hernia. "Kaut? Maybe. I was -really- fucking drunk that year. I remember stealing some...fuck. Those weren't fuckup Rodians, at least."

Triz lets the two Headhunters get on past them as she talks to Sabella "Got, uh, you might want to hold on for this one," She throws the right engine reverse thrusters to full and keeps the left going forward to pivot the ship so that the two fighters swing onto her nose. As soon as the first one enters the targeting display on her VR goggles she lets loose with a volley from the big cannons. The thump from the firing is more felt than heard and one Headhunter goes up in a ball of flame and debris. "Great job, Sabe!" No sooner than that she is putting the right engine back to forward thrust as she begins to chase the second ship.

"Fuckup bucketheads. Not much difference. He was the one with the thing for younger women. Really younger women," Sar says, returning to grab another crate and load it on the back of the bike. "He had that estate, remember? We swoop-crashed the gate? Left him bleeding out on the wampa fur rug?" A pause. "Tacky as shit, if you ask me." Another pause. "The rug. Not the killing him part."

Seemingly done with trying to remind Gren of just one of their many revenge kills that happened over two decades ago, Sar ties the crates down to the cargo rack on the back of the bike and moves to throw a leg over it, foot coming down hard on the starter. The engine roars to life and he looks over to Gren. "Hope you're a better driver than you used to be, Delede. Right one's the accelerator."

With that, Sar twists the right handle of the swoop bike and speeds off down the street.

In the air, things are looking pretty good, until one realizes that where's there's two Headhunters, there's often more. Three more have joined the fracas, having heard the earlier call and scrambled. Triz and Sabella have their work cut out for them.

"Aye. I remember, vaguely. I still wish we'd just taken the rug. It was really nice." There is a glance up, toward the sky. That's where he belongs. Gren frowns, as it appears the the traffic is increasing up there. <<<Don't need to kill 'em all, Girlie. Get clear, and clean. Don't die.>>> Four to one is long odds. Once his own crates are secure, he hops onto the speeder, and glares at Sar. "I remember when one makes it go, damnit." And then Yavok is zooming off. The pilot sets his jaw, hunkers down to make sure wind resistance isn't an issue, and yanks back on the right handle. The speeder shoots forward. It all goes great for about 1.5 seconds. Then the control surfaces on the front of the bike get tangled up in a corpse, and the whole vehicle yaws around. The back ends hits a barrier, metal shrieks and sparks fly. He manages to yank his left leg up just before it is torn off by a piece of rebar. Still in his seat, he takes a deep breath. He's got this. Really.

Sabella Lockheart huh's faintly as she hears Triz and glances to her friend before a faint yelp is heard at the sudden reverse is felt and she is slammed back in her seat. "Dammit.. Who taught you how to fly, Gren?" She grumbles a bit before blinking as they are turned about and a ship is shot down. A slight wave of her hand is seen. "Welcome..." Though she eyes the screen. "Don't tanke me yet, Triz... There is a a handfull of 'em coming." She pauses as she leans forward. "Well at least three. Can we just keep 'em off Sar and GRen for a bit?" She knows the odds and the math, four to one is not good odds. "Maybe they would follow us."

The Mynock handles like a dream "I like this ship!" Triz exclaims grinning from ear to ear. "Does Gren fly like this? Huh, who'd 'ave thunk it," she continues on till Sabe speaks of more incoming. "I guess that would be a good thing, to protect them." Just then the ship rocks as she shields flash and one goes down "I lost a shield, Sabe, can you get it back for me?" She lines up the Headhunter as it twist and turns, allowing the incredible ship she flies to match in. Once in position she fires the cannon, but dives away from the other two before she can tell if they hit. She won't fly straight, twisting and turning "This is getting interesting," she comments as she works the controls. "Let me know where they are," ships, bosses, either or.

<<Gotta be gentle with it, Delede. Can't just close your eyes and jab at it, like it's one of your Academy girlfriends>> Sar says into the comms, hunkering down and throttling up.

<<Dermout, Lockheart, what's the->> Incoming fire cuts Sar's question short as he has to whip the swoop bike quickly to the side to avoid it.

A duo of Rodian swoopers zoom in behind him, ready to get back what they rightfully stole.

Sar's helmeted head swivels in an attempt to clock both of them and he says, <<Gren, get up here. I've got company.>>

The EE-3 is far too unwieldy to use in a situation like this, weighing in somewhere in the ballpark of about fifteen pounds or so, so the Old Man reaches down for the ankle holster that's affixed to the outside of his left durasteel greave. He slides the compact EC-17 blaster, used most famously by the Imperial scout troopers and draws a bead on one of the bikers. His first shot is a narrow miss, but the second one finds its mark, the blaster bolt burrowing into the skull of the driver to his left, sending the speeder spiraling out of control and into a wall with a satisfying ball of fire.

"For fuck's sake!" Gren shouts, as he's finally able to get the speeder bike started again. He manages to get going in a straight line, and as Sar calls for help...well, he's got to help. Otherwise, he'd end up in charge of this shitshow. He has to lean over the front of the bike, and try to steady his re-drawn DL-44 with one-hand. He's even peering down the scope. The hand cannon barks once, and the shot is more or less good. The heavy bolt clips the second swoopers arm, despite the shot being a really bloody long one. His whoop turns into whoopsie daisy. The speeder bike hits a really big clump of debris, and rockets upward. He's waaaaaay too airborne. Just careening through the air, repulsors finding nothing to float on, and he leans a little hard to the left. The entire contraption starts to spin. He ends upside down for a moment, clinging on with his legs, and right hand for dear life. It is a really near-run thing. Hopefully he gets it righted before the swoop bike finds the ground. <<I'M DYING>>

"Gren and Sar fly like things could fall apart at any moment. Why do you think they need me along?" Sabela questions while there is a pause and a fant ah escapes her while she is busy working on the shields, which involves a kick to the panel in the process. A glance is sent towards the panel. "Crap! One is circling around, watch out on the side there Triz.." Though she is trying to get the shield up and then with a bit more rock that has her using a few choice words the shields is buzzng back up at least. She hears the ords from Sar and Gren and a faint ah escapes her. "Triz, we gotta do something.."

"I got this! Just handle your own end." Triz snaps over the coms to both of them. "That's why you are so good, lots of practice. Ready to do some real flying, Sabe? Just let me know where those fighters are at," She is all business now, working out what to do in a split second each move. She then dives the ship down between the buildings. The awesome maneuverability of the Mynock lets Triz weave in very tight confines. Turning here, then up an alley, all the while taking in the position data from Sabe. "If I can get at least one more then we stand a much better chance," she says as beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. An idea springs up in her head "Hold on," and there in the narrow confines of the canyons that is Nar Shaddaa she turns down an alley that causes her to keep the ship on it's side. Once clear she pops up and there, the Headhunter is, now blown to bits. At the last minute she pulls back on the stick, climbing for altitude. "Lets take them up for a change, shall we?"

<<Good shot, Captain. Next time, aim for something important, though,>> Sar says, throttling the bike up and ramping (on purpose) off of a parked repulsorcab. He manuevers the bike in the air, so that it comes slamming down very near the opposing swoop ganger. "Hey, how's it goin?" he asks of the surprised Rodian, before he pulls a hand back and lets his armored fist sail into the unprotected maw of the bug-eyed alien.

The gang-member grunts and jerks away, sending his bike into a duracrete divider, and himself into the wall just a few feet behind it.

Gren, after much effort, and coming a bit closer to actually dying than he has in quite some time, manages to get the bike rightside up. It slams into the ground, and slews around a bit. Debris sprays all about, and there's some cursing. But, he maintains course, and his seat. <<<I'm not dead. And, I've fixed the broken...crackle...hisssss...that was keeping it from working.>>> His sound effects were baller, and totally believable. <<<I'll meet you at the closest bar. Get this shit, take it to the clinic.>>> And, he's going to slowputt it to safety. <<<Girlie. Get Sabella back in one damn piece. Delede out.>>>

"I swear..." Sabella mutters softly as Triz takes of and the ship is zipping one way and then another and sheshakes her head slightly while sending af aint glance towards her friend. "Just make sure to avoid the building's yeah?" Another ship goes byebye at least. She smirks a bit as she hears Sar and Gren over the comms and chuckles a bit. << Why wouldn't I get back in one piece? Geezs. >> "There out, let's go before they send more unfriendlies are way... maybe?"

Triz is all work now. <<No problem, Boss,>> Triz replies. It's been some hard flying that Triz has done. The sweat is running down her face, she has to wipe the palms of her hands now and then. Going vertical causes at least one of the fighter's to follow and at the right time Triz noses the ship over, and that's when the shields light up again. Another hit, more lost shields "Damnit!" She snaps off a shot, doing about the same to the Headhunter as what was done to her. But the Headhunter is heading up, she is heading down and so she dives, down into the lowest part of the durasteel canyons as she dares <<Not gonna push it, returning to base>> she croaks out. Live to fight another day and all that stuff.