Log:Tatooine Consequences
Tatooine Water Consequences
OOC Date: December 8, 2022
Location: Tatooine
Participants: Pilha Aino, Fshmaw, Amal Jha
Attacks on water caravans have been increasing recent weeks, driving the price of water up. Some water shippers and richer moisture farmers have paid for mercenaries to protect the water caravans as they wend their way across the sands from the deep desert to the cities of Tatooine like Mos Espa and Anchorhead. The gangs roving the desert wastes have managed to overcome one such shipment, leaving the drivers and guards alike dead beneath the fierce twin suns and making off with their precious cargo.
Pilha Aino has gathered a posse together to take down the gang and get the water back before they use it or sell it on the black market. Which is why, in the early dawn just before the heat begins to rise, the small group has travelled from Mos Espa to the hideout the gang was tracked to. On the way, Pilha made their mission clear: put the gang down with extreme prejudice as an example to anyone else who considers stealing water on Tatooine and get the water back. They trekked the last kilometer in the bright moonlight to avoid detection.
The gang's hideout is in the canyon country of the Jundland Wastes. At the end of a v-shaped canyon whose floor is strewn with boulders, lies the narrow entrance to the cave in which the gang have made their base.
Pilha turns to her companions as they lie on the edge of the canyon, near a narrow trail that leads down the craggy canyon wall.
"I guess we have a choice - sneak across the boulder field and sneak in or try to draw them out," she murmurs.
"I am fine with either option, though I believe Fsh has his own preferences." Amal Jah, who had accepted the job, looked no different now than she did at any other time. Still dressed white on white, though she had taken advantage of a white scarf with which to protect her face from the blowing sand. It was the first the echani had spoken since the trek had begun, "It might be worthwhile to attack them from two quarters. The first, obvious, to get their attention, the second covertly, to flank the gang and c
Fshmaw's dialogue always comes through the translator-belt, although he does adjust the volume down for the sake of decorum in rare situations. When he's not trying to intentionally wrong-foot someone or put them on edge, that is. After some *clicking mandibles* and soft hoots comes: "If you want to make a scene as you take heads, Amal, you can trust I'll resemble a reptile sunning itself long enough to surprise the second wave?"
Pilha, wearing her Mythikar Armour, turns her helmet and gazes down on the canyon and the entrance. The low-light vision makes the boulder field as clear as day on her HUD. She nods in agreement with Amal Jha's suggestion then moves slightly to look at Fshmaw. She brings her small datpad out and searches maps of the area. "There's a side entrance." She raises her glove to point it out, a dark spot on the side of the canyon near the foot of the trail they're near. "We could hit both at the same time. I'm no good at sneaking but someone could go in, create a disturbance to flush them out. If Fsh sneaks to the mouth of the cave and hides, one of us could hit them from the front and Fsh could get them from the back or side."
Amal nodded, "I will take the front." She had worked with the Aqualish long enough to know he preferred to be the strong silent type. The sort of type that stabbed you in the back when you weren't looking. "I am going to see if I can cause one of the speeders to explode. It might bring them out, and, if we are lucky, make it more difficult for them to escape." She did not direct the other woman, but left her to her own decisions, as the wraith made her way along the sands, moving so well, even her feet did not leave traces in the sand as she headed for the speeders.
Fshmaw's desert clothes are, for good or ill, bereft of heavy plates. But by patient practice and much experience he tiptoes with enviable silence-- breaths are timed to coincide with the natural noises of the desert, steps careful and using a criminal's technique for soundless movement. Off he goes with no clinking or rattling, save perhaps a patient snake or a noisy cricket.
Pilha nods to Amal and Fshmaw, waiting for them to head off. Then she makes her way down the trail to the bottom of the canyon, relying on distance from the hideout to keep her movement undiscovered. Pilha then tries to hide behind a boulder at the end of the trail with a good view of the cave. Or at least she tried to, but she hasn't got the angle right and she can easily be seen.
Amal, who did what Amal always did, which was leave the rest of the team to do what they did best, made her way without being detected to the swoops. Rather than destroying the formerly full water transport, as that was likely to create too much shrapnel, she choose one of the swoops with what looked to be a cobbled together expanded fuel tank. Just the sort of thing for traveling into the wastes. A few tools pulled from one of the inside pockets of her duster, and a flick of the power engage on the swoop and she danced aside to use the water tank as cover for herself, drawing her rapier as she did so, lest the explosion leave the desert world with one less echani. A few seconds, and then there would be, hopefully, a large enough kaboom to get a few of the gang out to the front.
The cave/tunnel is quiet, dark. But, thanks to Amal's sabotage, the fuel tank explodes with a jet of flame and rolling black greasy cloud, sending a shower of sparks and flame-egulfed speeder parts flying through the air and landing on the sandy floor of the dawn-lit canyon whether they burn until the fuel is exhausted. The light flickers across the boulder field, the Aquilish, Echani, human in her armour casting dancing light and shadows. The explosion echoes around the canyon. As it fades, all is silent. Then, voices can be heard coming closer to the cave entrance. Cursing, exclamation. Two figures (the cheap mercenaries) cautiously emerge and take cover behind some boulders near the entrance, sweeping their pistols over the firey scene.
Fshmaw waits until his appointed time, seizing on the silence and confusion to drill each guard once, before they know what's happened! *fzzap,* *fzzap,* two precision bolts fly from his weapon, aimed center-mass. If he can put down as many of the gang's fighters as he's able, the water's as good as safe...
There was a reason Lord Borgol kept Amal Jha in his employ. And it was not her scintillating wit, nor her dazzling good looks. What did a Hutt care for either of those things. Lord Borgol employed his Wraith because she was entirely efficient in exacting his will in the most efficient, most brutal way possible.
Having waiting until the thieves had exited the cave mouth, Amal took off on an intercept course, the rapier slashing out at the two who seemed the least prepared. Still drawing their weapons. But it would do them no good as the echani drove into the fray, the crimson plasma of her blade an echo of the red which soon splattered the ground as she cut down the two who had chosen, poorly as it turned out, to allow their lessers to face the danger first.
Fshmaw's weapon may become incidentally lighter when it's low on gas, or perhaps he was at the wrong angle, but his shot goes wide! Fortunately for us all we are spared knowing the exact syntax for genitalia in Aqualish? The belt disgorges, still on low power: "Profanity detected. Seeking alternative translations. One moment, please!"
Pilha, seeing the orchestrated attack unfurl, grabs her M-434 and brings it to bear, checking the charge level as she does so. She fires at the easiest target, the gang member scrabbling around on the desert floor for his pistol. Unfortunately he ducks for it just as she fires so her shots go wide. The slicer curses. Computers are so much easier!
The gang member (11139), a Rodian dressed in scruffy coveralls, falls on the ground with a howl. Fshmaw's shot burns into his chest. He rolls on his hip and brings his pistol to bear, firing off a quick shot at Fshmaw. It sails over the Aquilish's head.
The other gang member, a Devaronian (25449), yells as he is hit in the arm and drops his blaster. He dives for it, Pilha's shot missing him. Picking it up, he stands again...
There were times when mercenaries wanted to draw out the dance of death. This...was not one of those times. Not on a world where the sun could kill you, and where those who needed the stolen water were suffering. Amal, watching the firefight play out, moved to finish the two remaining that she could see, cutting down one, and then, the other, who should have, quite likely simply stayed on the ground and played dead. Now he was truly, most sincerely dead. "We need to clear out any that are left and retrieve the water shipment."
Fshmaw's roar is aggressive, triumphant, a furious bull challenging a terrified Rodian at a critical flashpoint! (Perhaps he is merely attempting to spoil his aim via noise, or vent some frustration on the poor slobs?) Whatever terror he can sow is moot, however, as Amal beheads the last two water-hoarders like petulant dandelions. He brushes his vest clean, *pure professional.* "As you say," he admits. "... shall we start a fire? Smoke them out?"
Pilha holsters her blaster and stands from where she crouches behind the boulder. She heads over to Amal and Fshmaw, the boots of her armour crunching on the pebble-strewn sand. She looks up at the sky. The suns are rising and casting firey fingers into the night. The heat is rising, but in the sheltered canyon it is still cool. But not for long. She looks at the remaining speeders and the damaged speeder-truck. "If you guys look for any survivors, I'll check on the status of the speeder-truck. We'll need it to take the water back if it's still here."
"Fsh, I will clear the rest of the stragglers. See if you can locate the water, we will need to take back everything we can find." Amal, still with her rapier in hand, moved on into the cool darkness of the cave, set on her task. She would take care of any remaining thieves, and once she was certain no one would be left alive to endanger he mission, she would assist with the water.
Fshmaw emerges from the cave loaded-for-bear with jugs, waddling proudly under the weight of as many jerry-cans as he can heft. Galump-galump-galump. "We wash tonight!" he proclaims, which might just be the Tatooinian version of 'smoke 'em if you got 'em!'
Amal, searching thoroughly, finds no more gang members. She finds nothing apart from water, belongings, rubbish, and some food. The caves are a mess, it must be said. Fshmaw finds the canisters and carries them out. Pilha finds a tool box in the truck and, after a few minutes work, manages to fix the speeder-truck. With that, the trio are away, speeding over the desert sands back to Mos Espa.
