Log:Resistance & First Order: Bombs on Bayuir
Resistance & First Order: Bombs on Bayuir
OOC Date: June 1, 2016
Location: Bayuir
Participants: Gren Delede, Oriana, DZ-1141, Hex, and Fuze as GM
The short story: The Resistance aims to give the First Order a bloody nose on the jungle outpost world of Bayuir. Dozer rolls in some mud; Oriana is the bomb; Gren has turbolasers; Hex finds no advantage to being green. There is significant precipitation.
The long story:
First Order communication relay station C-1401. Deep in the equatorial jungles of Bayuir, its function is to provide a relay link to forces on the 'dark side' of the planet, thousands of clicks away from the main First Order base. Physically it comprises several tall masts, a collection of ground buildings that are little more than temporary huts with one concrete blockhouse in the center, all in a bulldozed few acres of jungle surrounded with an inner and an outer electrified fence topped with razor wire, the zone between the two fences mined with antipersonnel mines. Or so the sign says.
The First Order have a small contingent here - a dozen men and women who have pulled the short straw to be stationed in this shitty, hot, humid hellhole. And Dozer, who has been dropped off here to inspect the minefield and make improvements as needed.
The Resistance, of course, see this is a prime opportunity to try to give the First Order a bloody nose - although taking down the relay station is not exactly a major tactical victory, there is the opportunity to attempt to steal communications equipment intact, there's the morale boost/hit, and of course it's probing at the FO defenses to see how well they can recover losing comms over half the planet.
The clouds are low, dark, and heavy with rain. The weather forecast is appalling (which explains why Dozer's return shuttle flight has been delayed by 24 hours, and contraindicates any air support by the Resistance). As forces move about on the playing field, a few heavy drops of rain start to fall.
"Why am I back on this garbage planet?" Gren asks the trooper to his right, clearly not expecting an answer. It's been a while, but he spent a fair bit of time in the jungle here after a run-in with some TIEs...and he'd rather not repeat the lengthy stay. "I should've bloody stayed on the Phoenix. But, no. I -had- to prove that even old men can get it up when the need arises." A scowl at the sky as the rain begins to splash off of his battle armor. He reaches up to wipe at the faceplate of his helmet, and falls silent. Trudging and trudging until their destination is reached. He was super dumb to do this. He'll leave the navigating to the actual troopers. He's a little lost without a navicomputer.
Hard at work inspecting the mine field, and holding a schematic of the mine field in one hand and a device that reads the status of each mine as she works, DZ-1141 is in the middle of the field while the rest of the detachment on planet is patrolling the edges of the field and the rest of the terrain around the lovely tropical paradise known as Bayuir. Where the water is always tepid, the humidity is always insane, and the itty bitty little insects that worm their way beneath the layers of gear and armor always drive those stuck here into bruising fits of trying to smash the darned things to death while not removing their armor.
Trudge, trudge, trudge. The trooper to Gren's right is uniquely well-suited to camouflage here, given that he is green, but that's probably the only tactical advantage or actual asset Hex possesses. And everyone should probably consider the wisdom of bringing along a person whose name is literally hex if you want or expect good luck, but anyway, here they are. "Because you're incapable of choosing the easy course of action and have questionable decision-making processes? No, wait, that's why I'm on this garbage planet. I don't know why you're on this garbage planet. You'll feel better when something explodes."
The Lieutenant in charge of the detachment is a woman, young, inexperienced, and rebuffed a sexual advance from a senior officer (which is why she got posted here). Or so the rumors go. There are two patrols of two Troopers, one pair walking clockwise inside the inner fence, one pair walking anticlockwise outside the outer fence. And the LT, plus her Sergeant, are watching Dozer work. "Rather her than me," the Sergeant comments. "Are we supposed to spray the minefield or let the jungle grow back over it?" The spray, highly toxic to fauna as well as flora, is struggling to resist the inevitable encroach of the jungle.
"Its not too late to march back to Phoenix, wait for the weather to clear, bombard this hellhole, and bounce." Gren observes sourly to Hex, before sighing very slightly. The is enough of a break in the foliage to see that they are getting very near to their target. With the creak of old bones, he drops low to the jungle floor, and starts to move more slowly forward. He'll be on his belly in a few moments, won't he? "Nevermind. Too late." This is swell. And muddy. And kind of stinky.
"She volunteered for this particular task," comes DZ-1141's voice over the group channel, "and no, we are not supposed to spray the terrain around the mine field. And this is because killing the flora and fauna would ruin the point of disguising the mines in the first place. Which is one one of us gets to volunteer to inspect the mine field to make sure that the local flora and fauna haven't disrupted the mines or any of the connection wires which could potentially make this unstable." This said, still on the group channel, as she pauses and straightens, carefully, away from the last mine in this sector of the field. "That and there's only so many days I can take being cooped up without getting my hands dirty before I start thinking that I can dismantle something and put it back together and make it work better."
Hex drops along with Gren. Mud. Yay. Mud. He seems resigned; he's a low ranking trooper, it's his lot in life. "We can't hit it from the air, they want intact communication things from inside, or.... something," Hex was clearly paying a lot of attention to the briefing for this mission. Crawling forward, he eyes the scene ahead of them. "Soon as demo starts lighting up that minefield, the fun starts. Guess it'd make sense to shoot the outward patrol, but I dunno, the one all by itself in the no-man's land... looks lonely."
Lonely, perhaps. And about to be wet, definitely, for now a flash of lightning splits the clouds and a bolt of thunder rents the air, echoing round the hills, startling the shit out of the young Lieutenant who visibly jumps. "I'll be in my office," she mutters, embarrassed at both Dozer being on what she thought was a private channel, and the jumping at the thunder, and turns to head towards the blockhouse. And that's when the heavens open and it...well, rains is too mild a term. Buckets. Torrents. Sheets. Suddenly it's impossible to see the far side of the compound, the ground is being churned to mud, rivulets are turning to streams, and water is being driven into the cracks between the armor segments. It's drumming on the tin roofs of the temporary buildings.
"Might as well have demo girl blow a hole in this damn fence, maybe see if she can clear a path in the process. I don't bloody fancy crawling around to the other side...." There is a brief pause, and Gren glances at Hex, to see what he thinks. "You can pop that loner, and I'll see what I can do about the others that we can see. Maybe supress them a bit." He's already pulling out of DL-44, and looking down the scope. He chooses not to shoot, though. "Once they're down, we'll move in."
Why didn't they design these helmets with wipers," DZ-1141 mutters, carefully keeping her voice quiet as she listens to the near deafening sound of the rain hammering on her armor and helmet. "That's the least they could have done. Piped AC through the armor or actual climate controls, that would've been a huge hit," she is moving now, with almost mincing steps, winding her way through the mud back to the central point of the mine field, pausing there as the hand held scanning unit fitzes a bit because of the rain. "Oh bloody perfect," she mutters as she reaches the 'safe' avenue and begins working her way back toward the rally point, stowing the device in one of the pouches at her waist, not wanting to have to explain to requisitions why she destroyed the device by allowing water to seep into the casing and damage the fragile electronics. "Sure, we can build a giant weapon in space that looks like a moon, but we can't water proof the mine detection device, that makes total sense."
Whatever kept Oriana behind it's dealt with now. She'd of comed up to join Hex and Gren. In her normal attire - bandolier of grenades her vibrosword and rifle a hand idly runs across the grenades, fingers eager to use them.
"Akei ka schutta," Hex curses in Ryl, as the heavens suddenly open forth. "It had to start pissing down?" Lekku slack with self pity, he sinks slowly into the floor of the jungle soup while he listens to Gren. "Sure," he agrees, because a plate of noodles can make better tactics than Hex, and he is amenable to Gren's idea. "Sergeant Verrni, make us a door in that fence where there's not a door, and a clear path with it if you can?" he relays to Oriana. "Keep down, too, there's gonna be fireworks. Sorry in advance if I shoot your perky ass at some point today. Can't see shit out here in this rain." That's super reassuring. He aims, fires...
The Sergeant, standing there near to where Dozer is standing (albeit with a fence between them), sees the blaster bolt and yells a warning... The blaster bolt burns through the outer fence in a pyromanic shower of electrical sparks and slams into the ground near Dozer - and Dozer, and others, might wonder how lucky or unlucky you have to be to start exploding mines with those missed shots. Then the Sergeant is running towards the main double gates, starting to swing the outer gates closed, and to hell with the patrol on the far side of the compound stranded out there. Dozer will have to evac between the fences at the main gate. The inner patrol take cover, and then a wailing, ululating banshee wail of a siren starts up from one of the huts, competing with the rain and now more thunder (and lightning). That can't be good.
Even if DZ-1141 hadn't heard the banshee wail of the sire starting up, the sound of the blaster bolt impact the mud near where she is standing is enough to alert the trooper that this is no longer a lovely day at the park. Instead of bolting for the fence, DZ-1141 secures the scematic where she'll be able to see it and hits the deck without delay, mud splattering upward and coating her armor at the same time. She has absolutely no issue with using the mud to help conceal her position and promptly rolls left then right again, coating more of her HERE I AM SHOOT ME NOW white armor with more of the mud and muck, only swiping one gloved hand over the eyes of her helmet to retain her field of vision. "Enemies in the treeline, just beyond the outer fence, not quite within the scope of the anti-personnel mines," she advises those on channel. "Remaining in the field, over," as she cues up the commands linking the device she takes back OUT of the pouch at her waist and waits it out.
After Hex takes the opening shot(and whiffs..c'mon)....Gren decides that he'd best do his part to make the galaxy a safer place. By lifting up a bit onto his elbows, placing the DL-44 out in front of him, and unloading half a clip at the nearest stormtroopers. There are a few solid hits in there, but mostly..the red blaster bolts just do a nice job of high-lighting their firing position. "I have fucking turbolasers. Command knows that...right?" Bitching and moaning, and waiting to get shot in the mud.
"Only because you're jealous of my ass." Oriana says this with a quick smirk as she replies to Hex. Looking to Gren briefly she turns away from them. With ease she hurls a grenade through the air. It hits it's mark causing on hell of an explosion. Mines go off thundering smoke hits the air and one of the inner femces falls.
"Don't ask me things like I know things," Hex replies to Gren, regarding Command, and turbolasers. "There have literally been entire committee proceedings regarding the fact that it's best when I don't make too many decisions." Gren seems to be having better luck with a pistol than he had with the rifle, and who doesn't want to be like Gren, so he takes a moment to switch as well, yelling at Oriana over the sound of her explosions, "EVERYONE IS JEALOUS OF YOUR ASS." This is a professional team, here. Raising the EL-718, he takes a good squint at the mud, and fires.
The inner patrol come slipping and stumbling through the mud towards the gate where the Sergeant is busy sacrificing his other patrol. One, a lanky woman, slithers beside a general purpose wheeled vehicle and starts firing up into the treeline - she probably can't see any targets, but she can see where the blaster shots were coming from, and she unleashes a volley into the treeline. The other, a bulky fellow squeezed into his suit of armor, takes a blaster round in the shoulder, spins round, and takes a second in the back, falling face down into the mud and becoming still, the rain washing the blood from the entrance wound near the base of his spine.
The Sergeant gets the outer doors closed, as four more troopers spill from the blockhouse, firing into the trees as they start taking up positions beside the temporary buildings, at the foot of the masts, and in a crude sandbagged revetment near the blockhouse.
At the foot of the masts. In a lightning storm. That surely is a mistake that one of the troopers doesn't live long enough to tell his grandchildren; a bolt cracks sharply, hitting the mast and hurtling down to the ground, flinging the trooper at the base of the mast off his feet and onto his face where he twitches spasmodically, his white armor cracked and charred with dark electrical scorch marks as a stark warning that Mother Nature can still kick ass.
More Stormtroopers?! Gren doesn't get up, he doesn't charge forward, and he doesn't get shot. All in all, this is going well. Except for the rain. And lightning, and Imperial Juniors everywhere. He merely empties the remainder of his heavy blaster at what is becoming a target rich enviroment. The Sergeant receives all of his accurate fire, while a smattering of misses manage to miss one of the approaching privates. "You're too hard on yourself, Corporal. I've been serving with the Colonel Yavok for years...and your bad decisions don't hold a candle! Keep on striving, though!" He does not comment on Oriana's arse. That would be inappropriate.
Splattered with mud from the attempt at muddy camouflage and then even more mud as the blaster bolts both slam into her armor or go zipping by to slam into the mud, DZ-1141's best plan for staying down in the mud to set a mine off are blown to smithereens when enough of the bolts zip into her armor itself. The demo expert may be an expert at demolitions, hence the captain obvious 'demo expert' title but it doesn't do much good when she's down and out for the count.
"As they should be!" Oriana bellows back around the soubnd of gunfire grenades mines and rain. Grabbing one more grenade there is a fleeting look over her shoulder. "One mre throw I think!" Then she hurls it into the air, which lands true and blows up the rest of the fencing and stuff.
"Yavok's bad decisions are the stuff of leg-- Lightning. Oh... oh," Hex says profoundly, wincing away from the flare of light at the masts, as sparks fly and a stormtrooper ends up wilhelm-wailing and charred off the base of the lightning-struck equipment. "I'm half robot parts, I don't like all this goddamn electricity in the air," he states for the record, before firing and dropping poor Dozer. He doesn't know she's only unconscious, or if he does, eh, that's close enough for now, right? Better to focus on the ones up and actively firing, which he does, sending off three more shots.
The Sergeant takes two of Gren's bolts to the back and goes down, falling onto an anti-personnel mine; he has barely hit the ground when there's a dull crump and fragments of flesh and armor splatter across the minefield, some speckling Dozer's muddy armor with crimson, although the torrential rain is already sluicing it off. Another Trooper, a diminutive female, takes one of Hex's bolts in the gut, sits down hard, and slowly topples sideways into the mud clutching her belly.
Two of the Troopers break cover, slithering and sliding around the open inner door, slowing instinctively as they hit the minefield. One, an anonymous-looking fellow, grabs Dozer's left arm; the other, the lanky woman from the gate, grabs Dozer's right arm, and together they drag the unconscious explosives tech back towards safety, aided by their compatriots' covering fire - some of which is aimed with more luck than skill at where Hex is. The rain is, if anything, increasing in severity; it's hard to walk or run or even sit still without slithering in the slick mud, and the electric fence, those bits of it still standing after Oriana's grenades, is crackling and hissing and spitting sparks alarmingly. Indeed, a small outbuilding marked 'Danger! High Voltage!' looks to have smoke oozing from under the doorway, although the rain makes it hard to be sure.
They're going to have to move up. Well, those able to move up. The fire sent their way doesn't come close to him...at all. But the smell of burning might indicate that his comrade is hit. Gren is just a little busy rolling to the right in the mud as he reloads, and firing another flurry of bolts at the some of the troopers still in cover, and firing at the Resistance position. Hopefully he got the bugger who blasted poor Hex with that first bit of sweet shot. "About time to move up, Demo!" A shout over the sound of battle and rain.
"Already on it!" Oriana bellows back to Gren as she brings out her vibrosword and rushes into battle. Her aim is for the only who shot Hex. Nobody can kick his ass but her. The first misses but the next two swings hit true as she fearlessly stabs him in the chest then spins bringing the sword up to decapitate him. His head rolling away as his body falls into the muck.
Burning flesh, indeed! The shots fired towards Hex are lucky indeed... well, lucky for the stormtrooper; profoundly unlucky for the Twi'lek. He aaaaaalmost just got head-shot there, as one bolt streaks past his pretty face (burning, searing, roasting his pretty face) and sinks into his collar bone; he jerks instinctively away from the pain and gets hit solidly in the chest by the next. "Chod!" he gasps a curse in Ryl, hand pressed to the searing, bleeding hole he seems to have developed. "Ryma'at! Kasia is going to be so fucking pissed!" He'd better die here, cause otherwise he's in trouble. "I'm not in good shape, but I'll do what I can," he offers wheezily to his teammates, then switches back to the rifle and fires at the long-distance troopers... and misses.
The helmet comes off Oriana's victim, revealing a clean-cut fellow with a surprised and shocked look etched into his dead face; his torso drops to its knees, blood spraying everywhere (although, as has been mentioned, rain) and topples over. The gut-shot girl is still groaning; she, too, has pulled off her helmet, revealing a gaunt face etched with agony, stringy brown hair pulled back into a bun, wide pain-filled brown eyes. She turns her gaze up at the approaching Oriana in horror, trying to lift her head out of the deep glutinous mud.
Lanky girl and Anonymous Boy drag Dozer back into the blockhouse; the door is opened to receive them and the Lieutenant, ducking out of cover a moment, opens fire on Oriana but misses by a mile. Then the heavy steel door is clanged shut, securing - or entombing - the Stormtroopers inside. Although there are plenty of gunports.
Hex's shot towards the two advancing far patrol Troopers sends them diving for cover, scurrying back into the treeline out of sight.
The outlying patrol are far out of Gren's blaster's range...and he's more focused on moving up at this rate. He stands into a crouch, groaning with the effort, and with knees popping like mad. A look is given to the wounded Hex, and a sigh. "You're green. You're supposed to bloody blend in. Hang tight. We'll blow this, see about getting a lift out of here." And then's he jogging as best he can out of the jungle and into the mud. As he nears Oriana, he shouts..."Heads' up!" Because that is an awesome pun, at the moment, and tosses her a small satchel filled with goodies. "Open up that bloody door!" A gesture with his wet blaster, and he eyes the apparently dying gutshot stormtrooper. A shrug. He won't just murder her, but he'll let her die.
Breathing heavily Oriana turns and laughs at the pun, it was great. Easily catching the bag she peers inside. It's like Christmas! Grabbing one out with a childish grin she turns takes a few steps and hurls the thermal grenade at the door with good aim.
"Yeah, the hell is with that? All you pink sons'abitches /don't/ get shot?" Hex protests to the massive unfairness of the green skin thing, when Gren points it out. "It's because I'm alien, isn't it!" he yells at the stormtroopers that have vanished into the treeline. "THAT'S RACIST!" They probably can't hear him over the rain, but he's stuck. Too much rain for an air evac any time soon. Too much wound to go tromping up with the cool kids until the area is more secure. So he hangs back to be cover fire, tracking the progress with the door, and debating the moral complexities over whether it would be right to try to shoot that gut-shot trooper because it would be merciful death, or wrong because the real reason is now he's bored and could use the target practice. "Don't get electrocuted!" he calls helpfully after Gren and Ori.
Gunports drop down from the blockhouse, and blaster bolts rapidly start turning the area around it into a killing ground. Oriana's grenade is burning hard up against the door, molten metal spitting, but even as the door sags more bolts come out from within - it's more than just the two Stormtroopers inside, clearly. One of the shots hits the gut-shot girl in the side of the head, sending her twitching into death, eyes staring emptily into the sky, the rain running down her cheeks like tears. No prisoners. None of the shots hit Gren or Oriana, but it's only a matter of time before they do.
As the Stormtroopers murder one of their own, there is a disgusted shake of his head. "They're even bigger dicks than old school Imps." Gren drops into a kneeling position, and glances at Oriana, before making a decision, and giving orders. "Start placing charges. We'll frag this place. I'll keep watch, and pop those assholes in the jungle if they show their head." The Naval Captain looks at the sky, and frowns. "Really wish we could catch a ride out of here."
Looking up to where Hex is she frowns. "Poor Hex it ain't easy being green. Hang tight Hex!" Shaking her head some she looks to Gren and nods. "On it." Giving a brief look around figures where to lay the charges, it's her thing after all. Looking to the sky too she sighs some too knowing they need out and that medical attention is needed. Moving away, keeping low and quick she would place the charges.
Hex is also keeping watch for the troopers in the jungle! Sort of. The mud is turning disconcertingly, disproportionately red around him, even with the rain. His breathing sounds wet, like blood (or who knows, there's enough rain, could be that) is getting where it shouldn't. "Son of a bitch," he grumbles disconsolately, watching as Oriana and Gren evade fire and begin to plant bombs. That, at least, is a sight that sparks a smile. "Nothing like a bonfire on a gray day... make some fireworks," he encourages them, though they're out of hearing range. "And we'll go home." A pause, a squint upwards at the unrelenting weather. "...Eventually."
Oriana can plant the charges around the various outbuildings, generator rooms and the like. And up they go, satisfying explosions making the rain hiss and sizzle. The explosions make the blockhouse inhabitants fall silent for a while, but any exploratory or unwise moves will receive a fusillade in reply from the Stormtrooper survivors, not to mention that the rain is easing off and TIE patrols will surely be first on the scene. So, fin. Our heroes (on both sides) (mostly) live to fight another day.
