Log:The Circle: Chaos on Kafrene
A distress signal is sent to all the nearby ships that can help with a problem on the outpost.
OOC Date: June 5, 2022
Location: Kafrene Outpost
Participants: Vhe Tenara herself and GM, Aryn Cortess, Zandra naMuriel, Amal Jha, Syrus, Shemar Eisley, Kohnner, Zelo Parrai, Nora Frayus, Khalim, Vega, Yuun, Corto, Ban Iskender
The distress signal had gone out and has been transmitting for just over a half hour when the first of those answering its heralding call arrive in space around the outpost. The asteroids that circle near make traversing the distance a true gauntlet of talent and expertise. The docking bays are near to full, but ships are already pulling away with injured to make room for those that have arrived.
Stepping onto the Outpost blankets the responders with klaxons and red lights drenching the immediate area in a flares of red light. The exit pathways are lit by trailing white lights on the floor to indicate which direction to go. Assistant Directior Kovavin is no longer in the command pod but is boots on the ground as she calls out to those arriving. "We ran them off but many are injured and dead! We need medical personnel to help get them out of here and to proper facilities, our current medical ward is over capacity..." In fact not far down the hallway are more than a few injured that have been triaged as less serious cases. There are cries for help and more, blaster carbon cast here and there.
Just as Kovavin moves to intercept the new faces and direct them, en explosion rocks the outpost, the creak of ruptured metal and worse as steam and gas begin to poor in from ruptured pipes. Fire lances outwards, flaring to life in a second wind as there are suddenly screams from further in the mining facility.
Having been tossed to the ground, Kovavin pushes up, dazed and half out of it. "They must have planted a bomb in one of the stations mining corridors!" Desperation sounds in her voice. "We need to get these people out of here and shut down the section!"
Vhe is among those present when things go from bad to worse, having caught herself she is looking to both the familiar and unknown as she pushes forward to begin helping people up and back towards the ships.
The explosion sends Aryn from her feet and onto the ground. Thankful for armor, which absorbed much of the blow, she's left dazed and a bit confused as her perception yields ringing ears and shaking vision. She rolls from her side to her back and begins to rise up to see what they needed to do. All sounds, more or less, blend together at the moment as adrenaline triggers a brief tunnel vision known as tachypsychia.
Zandra brought the Sabacc, thinking it would have enough space to get people out. That seems to be the need, at least, and she's got some cargo space. She is just arriving as things go from bad to worse. She wobbles a bit, but manages to stay on her feet, the young pilot staring at the place. She reaches a hand to her ears though, because yeah, that was loud. Ow. It doesn't take too much to see there's fire flaring to life, and that's the direction she starts moving in. "What do we need to do to shut down that fire?" she calls out, sounding calm, at least. "Do we know how many people are this way?" Is she even waiting for answers?
Amal, who had not, as it happened, been here to answer the call of distress, had, instead, been trying to make delivery of supplies, when the call came that all ships not being used for evacuations were either to be locked down or requisitioned. Leaving her sister to handle the ship, AMal hopped down from the clearwater, heading towards the sound of the klaxons and the calls for aid and assistance. The sudden rocking of the ground beneath her feet when the explosion came caused a stutter in her step, but rather than turn back to her ship, she continued on towards where she could see able bodied, likely rescue teams moving in to assist. Might as well try to be useful. Surely.
The interests of the Sith Empire are wide and varied, their dark tentacles extending to every corner of the galaxy. Fortunately or unfortunately, they're not all that interested in Kafrene. Syrus, however, is. One of his most reliable contacts for old Galaxy relics finds his home on the Ring, and Syrus is nothing if not a good friend, the kind and generous soul that he is.
Having only barely survived the asteroid field in his overly-quick TIE Silencer, he finds himself running headlong towards the director, but quickly thrown off of his feet by the blast, a pulse of Dark Side energy emanating from his person as his pride is injured. Still, he climbs back to his feet and tugs his right glove tighter, eyes resting on the gaggle of Jedi and others who have arrived to help.
Having just arrived with Zandra on her Pure Sabacc freighter, Shemar has donned his Trooper armor and carries a rifle among other things. Though with the rifle slung over his shoulder by the carry strap, he looks like he's more focused on trying to find out where he can be of the most aid to help these people. Boots pound the deck as he runs with Zandra, then slows his stride as they arrive where other rescue crews are assembling for the quick brief and assignments.
It gives him a few seconds to catch his breath and listen up. Just in time for the explosion to rock them all.
The preassure wave isn't too bad but the deck jumps below their feet. Shemar manages to keep his footing, looking around. "Probably people trapped back there. We're gonna need a team to get back there and get them out." He starts moving again when Zan does.
It was not the first time Chon Kohnner had visited Kafrene. He also didn't make a habit of coming to the former mining outpost often. The Canine managed to steer his Rigger Freighter with the name Unusual Scurrier through the asteroid field. The landing is uneventful, the pistons whining and joining in a humm to battle out the repulsor lifts winding down from the landing cycle. Out steps a tall, and wide, Klatooinian just putting on the helmet to his Void suit. A good call, for as he stepped onto the ground and explosion rocked the bay. He remained upright, his balance steady likely thanks to the suits maglock boots. He turned his head slowly to see Aryn fall. He turned towards her and offered a gloved hand, <<"Are you alright, ma'am.">> Voice a low deep rumble, almost growling.
Navigating asteroids is growing to be a daily activity for Zelo Parrai, and he makes it look easy, even though there's a great deal of focus inside that H-visor of his; the HUD tags and helps map trajectories so he simpley slips where nothing is going to be until after the Nomad has passed. Touching down and powering down the ship in what seems to be a single action, the Mandalorian is already shrugging off his harness and rising to head aft to the ramp. Wearing that gleaming blue Beskar, he checks his belt and the weapons on his back - every tool for any situation.
It's on the decks, looking to Kovavin for direction when the explosion shakes the station, that the gravity really sets in. Zelo's legs are flexible, easy to adapt, and he catches another volunteer nearby, steadying them before looking about.. Explosions and ruptures, and things like that are bad any time. But they're worse in space. Too much smoke and fume can overburden air cyclers and purifiers, or spread in that system to anywhere else in the station. Fire, shots, all of it causes chaos. Zelo looks to Vhe with a nod and then starts running for the screams further within. <"I'm heading for the source to assess things, if I can!"> He calls out, voice sharpened by the vocoder as he picks up the pace.
Nora Frayus is able, through blind luck and quick reflexes, to slip behind sturdier cover just before the secondary explosion triggers and rocks the foundatioon of the mining facility. The screams from further within draw a troubled expression to Nora's face, and she moves towards where Aryn has helped herself up back onto her feet. A quick check for superficial injuries is hardly medically sound, but there doesn't seem to be any visible blood or wounds, and Aryn's eyes are only a -little- bit far away. "There you are, Your Grace. A bit rattled, but seaworthy. We'll need that head of yours to aid the wounded which," Nora tips her head over her shoulder towards the source of the desperate-sounding screams further within.
"It seems there will be plenty."
The hard part of shepherding the Blur into this mess hadn't actually been the asteroids between the station and jump-friendly space, but rather - for Khalim at least - squeezing the medium transport into that tiny bit of space it currently occupies. A foot separates the port curve of its hull from the angular plating of a Ghtroc to one side, even less than that distance to a rather dilapidated and quiet ancient Corellian-manufactured 1210 to the other. No scrapes. That's all that mattered really, and that is exactly the thought that works its way through the Mirialan's mind as the ship rapidly powers down.
Just off the ramp as that explosion sounds down one of the station's mining corridors, Khalim braces himself against a ramp strut. In an enviro-sealed suit, helmet on, he pays enough attention to Kovanin's call for help to understand that corridor is likely where he'd be the most useful. The assistant director receives a curt nod as he passes, along with a lightly vocoded, <"If there are survivors down that corridor, we'll bring them in.">
Vega was in her own ship today, wonder of wonders. That meant her Aethersprite was back on the ship. The ebony robed Jedi had landed and there was a bit of a whistle. A lot of people had come to help. "Stay close, Roundy." she tells her droid as she opens the ramp to the Charybdis and heads down.
This is the first time that Yuun has been to Kafrene, he was flying in his Raven Courier the Phoenix Rising. Getting through the asteroids worried him as he's not the best pilot but he's been training and working on those skills for a bit now. He transmit his details to be permitted to land, and once he was admitted, he lands his craft. As he moves down the landing ramp to his ship, Yuun feels the explosion rock the outpost and he stumbles the ramp but he doesn't fall.
Trouble has a weird way of findin' folk. Take for example the Drifter, who had made a centuries-long habit of getting himself into all sorts of messes. Like right now. A giant explosion had caused the Feeorin to stumble backwards, poncho flapping in the shockwave and his hat flying off his tentacled head. Only the whipcord snatch from dinner plate hands kept it from being lost to the chaos. "Let's clear a path, folk!" Corto's rumbledrawl as calm as could be amongst the chaos. Experience was, after all, a hell of a teacher. Where the shellshocked man indicated, the mining corridor, the huge Feeorin was already on his way.
The few able bodied that were near the blast but not close enough to earn an injury pour out of the corridor and towards the docking ring, coughing as the heavy presence of smoke starts to creep across the curved ceiling, billowing as it starts to fill the upper half of the passageways and starts to spill towards the infirmary. Kovavin starts to instruct. "Get the injured out of our infirmary, we need to address their needs on the ships!"
Vhe is busy trying to clear the corridors of injured figures, watching as Zelo and a few others head towards the immediate danger. The automated klaxon for fire is sounding as a clear and calm female voice announces:
"Mine integrity is compromised. All personnel to your closest evacuation stations immediately. Mine integrity is compromised. All personnel to your closest evacuation stations immediately."
There is a brief pause before the woman's voice carries again, filling and echoing across the durasteel as panicked figures beging to clog the passageways even after the call for them to clear has been made. General chaos is unfolding as screams of the injured can be heard echoing back towards the group who had only just arrived.
"HELP! The drill struts are giving way!" That much can be heard further down the hall towards the lifts that lower down to the other levels of the mining operation.
Aryn accepts the gloved palm of Kohnner, pulling on the larger being to get her meager self back to her booted feet. She emits a pitiful grunt, but just as she's straight and up-right, Lady Nora has arrived to survey her. She relies on the more focused Nora to alert her of any concerns, as the ground and surroundings still toss and turn in Aryn's perception. It takes a few steadying breaths, focusing on the sounds of the voices near her. Kohnner asking if she's alright, then Nora informing her there were no injuries upon herself, but there may be others who have them. Aryn squeezes Kohnner's hand before releasing it. "My thanks, sir."
Then to Nora, "If there are those who require aid, let us be about it then." Aryn shakes her head in the way one does to rattle their senses back in place. The effort sees her hair freed from its bun to fall about her face. Her expression becomes a bit more serious and her eyes focus ahead.
Zandra takes off down the corridor, passing people. "Don't stop, keep moving. Help each other!" She calls as she heads in. As she goes, she finds a computer terminal, and that is a good spot to catch her attention. "Oh, now look at you," she says. She pauses there, fingers flying across it, and then she frowns. "No, that's not - the display is fritzing." She scowls at it, but it's more thoughtful than angry, the emotions behind still calm. "But if I do this - " she says, as a thought occurs. A nod of her violet haired head, and the young pilot flashes a grin at those here with her. "Got it." There are some of the doors that start to close, shutting sections of the station that are burning uncontrollably from the rest of the station. But ... there's one that doesn't make it. "One of the section doors is stuck," she calls urgently. "We may have to go clear it."
Amal, sadly, has no skill in treating the injured, but, perhaps the real trouble was getting out as many bodies as possible. Treatment could happen later if they were alive, but never if they were dead. So. So, the Echani left those who were already either already getting out, to descend deeper into the corridors, towards where, she assumed the lifts were that were being used to get people out. Was it like breasting a wave that was intent on bowling you over? Yes. Perhaps it was equal parts luck and tragedy that Amal managed to find one of the lifts. It had halted between levels, and people were attempting to pull themselves out, but the brakes were not likely to hold. And so, Amal moved there, tugging at the control access panel to try to get to the computer system to engage the secondary braking system, if there was one.
The Kiffar Sith takes a moment to brush some collected rubble and dust from his jacket and moves to approach Kovavin. "Hoga Nobimi, have you seen him?" he asks. "A Nautolan antiquities dealer. About this tall," he informs, hand hovering about level with with his shoulder. It would seem that he's not overly concerned with the survival of the mines as a whole. Not yet, at least.
The Galaxy can stand the sacrifice of a single mining station.
A hand is laid upon Zandra's shoulder when she stops at the comp terminal and Shemar realizes she'll be busy for a few moments. "I'm heading to the infirmary, see who I can help get out to the ships." he taps his helmet, "Call me on coms if you need me." A quick pat and he's off, running down the corridor and watching for signs to help direct him towards the infirmary section.
The combat pilot skids through a T section, double checks his direction and then keeps going. Careful not to collide with people.
Once he gets there, Shemar calls out to the orderlies and other medical personnel, "Where can I assist? Moving people out to the ships!" He is directed to assist someone who can't walk and who isn't on a gurney, wheel chair or other mechanical aid. A nice warm smile, "I got you. It's going to be all right. I'll help you walk." Shemar helps them put an arm over his shoulders and then starts to head back out into the corridor, going as fast as the man can manage with a bad leg and a head wound.
The Klatooinian space ronin gives a slight nod to Aryn, turning his head as Nora arrives. He makes note that he keeps running into the same people. He adjusts the white hooded cloak he wears over his armored suit and starts along just behind Aryn and Nora.
Another familiar face catches his augmented reality system, the Echani who preferred to use the electro-whip. He turned in her direction, noticing the lift and the struggle she is having with the computer. While not at all computer savvy, he knew just about enough to run his ship and troubleshoot a few things. However, the Kltaooinians were known for their strength and dexterity, which of course is why the Hutts enslaved them for labor and as conscripts to their armed forces. He jumped up on the scaffolding and reached in, pulling out one, and then two of the four trapped on the lift to safety. <<"Keep trying.">> He said to Amal as he prepared to get the other two off.
Zelo hits the controls and is met by the satisfying FWOOMP of igniting rockets, instead of the rattle and click that so often greets his attempts to fly sans ship. It's no easy feat, dodging gouts of steam, fire, angling under smoke in a suit of armor definitely not sealed against such things, but he manages. Right until the end. A half-fallen strut comes out of NOWHERE and cuts his flight short just before he would have landed. HUD scanning, the Nautolan's black-pool eyes search for danger and those in it as he picks himself up off the offending debris. The heat pulls sweat from his cobalt skin, slicking the bodysuit onto which his armor is fixed.
One of the struts failing that oh-so-vital drill has been pushed outward, bowing and buckling. Fire creeps closer to what must be a well-fueled implement. Zelo's about to radio when he notices the clanging sound. <<"This is Zelo Parrai, I've got eyes on a buckling support strut, and also a whole pile of durasteel debris blocking this door from sealing off.">> He looks from the fire to the unsealed door. <<"I'm going to need another couple sets of hands at least. If we have an engineer, they'd be extremely helpful right now,">> He adds on the emergency response frequency.
"Indeed," Nora says to Aryn, and begins to move down the corridor towards the source of the screaming. Chaos is erupting all around, but Nora Frayus is able to keep her mind centered and her focus clear. When streams of confused and panicked workers and families begin to surge outwards and away from the flames, they are met with a rather severe looking young woman with... pink hair. But by god, she looks like she knows what she's doing. And, to top it off, she's got a sword. It's drawn from her hip and pointing down the direction of the hallway where the exit is.
"Keep your heads. You have walked this path hundreds of times. It is straight down this corridor to safety, and if you make your way to the exit calmly, you will save lives. Please. Go," she says. It might be a bit rough to be told 'get your drek together' by an eighteen year old, but she's got the privilege of clarity and, y'know, not having just seen a bunch of friends and loved ones get ravaged by an explosion.
"I do not see any wounded!" she calls out to Nora, tucking her blade back into the sheath at her hip. But she does see Syrus. Something about him draws her eyes and keeps them there for a moment or two longer, but they do not linger. Nor does Nora. She pushes forward through the chaos and towards where the sounds of screaming grow louder and louder.
"This way. Mind your feet. In a line, and calmly. You will be fine."
Mine fires were bad news. Khalim had never personally been within one, but he'd seen a handful of reports on the holo over the years and the one thing they seemed to have in common were terrifying outcomes for those involved. That's very much on the Mirialan's mind as he spots and then secures a handheld fire extinguisher, a pressurized cannister holding a large volume of fire retardant gas. Held in one arm he's a half dozen rushed paces past when a body, quite dead, catches his eye. A circle, in gold, is afixed to his lapel. There's a sense of familiarity, though in the moment he isn't certain as to why, or how. Khalim bends down and plucks that ornament away from the dead man's clothing, tucking it away.
What follows is a mad dash down that smoke-obscured mine corridor. Perhaps its actually a mine shaft, the smoke makes it difficult to know exactly. If there's a glow, that's where he heads.
Mine fires were bad news. Khalim had never personally been within one, but he'd seen a handful of reports on the holo over the years and the one thing they seemed to have in common were terrifying outcomes for those involved. That's very much on the Mirialan's mind as he spots and then secures a handheld fire extinguisher, a pressurized cannister holding a large volume of fire retardant gas. Held in one arm he's a half dozen rushed paces past when a body, quite dead, catches his eye. A circle, in gold, is afixed to his lapel. There's a sense of familiarity, though in the moment he isn't certain as to why, or how. Khalim bends down and plucks that ornament away from the dead man's clothing, tucking it away.
What follows is a mad dash down that smoke-obscured mine corridor. Perhaps its actually a mine shaft, the smoke makes it difficult to know exactly. If there's a glow, that's where he heads.
Vega rushes to where there is the call for an engineer. She is cleverly masquerading as one as it happens! Ahem! She yanks the panel top off and starts to go through the wiring, "Come on..." she whispers as she finds the right things. She focuses on them, trying to remember what wire colors mean. Thank the gods she's not color blind! That would be bad. Soon enough, the clamps lock and she breathes out.
Seeing what is going on, "Please send people to my ship. Over here." he calls and points to his ship. The landing ramp is still down and feeling a pull, Yuun turns to the direction of where the people are coming from. Moving quickly, his cloak is billowing behind him. Yuun looks up, concern on his face as he gets to the doorway, he moves as people are coming through, but his attention is directed towards the drill that is slowly starting to come down.
"Kriff.." taking a breath, Yuun stretches out his hand and as he does he feels the force flowing through him, but as he tries to reach out for the drill he couldn't. Yuun isn't discouraged but he knows that he has to focus. Sweat builds up on his brow as he feels the weight of the drill pressing down on him.
Corto was not a wealthy man by any means, so the one thing he could buy was time.
The stride of a seven-foot-five alien in motion was a thing to behold, simply barging straight past the fleeing screaming natives and heading straight towards the danger, with only a hand lifted to hold his hat in place. That strut was a problem. A very large one.
The silence screamed as the Feeorin strained, holding a huge hand out to grasp it by the mind. His grip latched, held, but have you ever tried to grab a falling ball from the top? Momentum was a nasty thing, and he did nothing to arrest its momentum. "Could use a hand here!"
Ban Iskender arrives amid the smoke, shortly following the latest blast. Making a silent survey of the chaos, the cloaked soldier hastens to lend what aid he may. The ominous sight of the collapsing strut descending with terrible inevitability seizes his attention. His empty left hand is thrust out, and raised up, through will and power arresting the colossal girder's fall. The effort drives him to one knee, as if a great weight had landed on him, but with eyes closed and jaw muscles standing out under his skin in exertion, the young nobleman fights back up to his feet, upraised arm visibly shaking. Breathing is labored rather than serene, and he is not able to dispose of the metallic menace, nor even articulate what help he needs with words. His whole mind is fixed upon holding it up, that those beneath can get clear.
The station is making creaking noses and shudders that draw particles of the asteroid it is part of to break through and come through like clouds of dust from between the dursteel plating. It adds to the dusty, unfiltered air filled with smoke, causing a few to duck and gasp, the very foundations of this portion of the outpost is slowly coming undone. The fires continue to spread slowly, the heat gathering in the enclosed environment as it is amplified by the artificial structures. There is a crackling down, warped metal from the explosion starts to give and the drill itself drops, not fully as several of its supports catch it but it starts to teeter in the shaft. But its initial descent draws another shuddering uneasy turmoil through the entire section, causing many to lose their footing and a few to tip and fall over the walkways downwards in the artificial gravity.
Lights shudder, guttering out as Vhe appears beside Ban but her connection with the Force is broken, not focused and she ends up coughing, covering her mouth as it fails her. "You have it," she encourages the other Jedi.
"Life support systems are critical. Personnel please make your way to evactuation stations immediately."
[[Aryn Cortess]
Catching sight of a miner struggling to help an injured person, Aryn takes the initiative to wade forward into the chaos and danger. Arriving at the pair in question, Aryn uses her armored shoulder to hoist up their other side and pull them from the immediate danger. When they arrive some place where they can rest, she urges the injured person to sit on a bench, and she begins to tend their wound.
Zan is done with the computer, since she can't get that silly door to close. Frown. She looks up, just as things shudder and shake, and the pilot/jedi manages to stay on her feet, perhaps unsurprisingly. She catches sight of Amal having issues. "Cripes!" she exclaims, whatever that means, and a hand reaches out, as she reaches for the Force, and tugs the swoop racer back to the platform they're on. "Enough folks in danger," she breathes softly. "You okay there?" That to Amal, as Zan looks at her hand as though not sure what it's doing out there. Pause. Zan's hand is placed back behind her, and she takes a breath. On comms to whoever can hear her. << Got a few of the doors closed to slow down the fire, but there's one door stuck and I'm not sure it'll work as well as I'd hope. We need to evacuate." She steps out, intending to head back to help shepherd folks to the ships. Which means she'll soon be back where she can see that falling strut. Her eyes widen, and she stretches out a hand again, reaching to help. There's a sweat drop, and a bit of a headache, but ... Zan's telekinesis doesn't seem to do much of anything this time. "Relax, Zan, you can do this."
"Thank you." That was to Kohnner as he came over to assist with pulling still living bodies. "Just get them out. I'll be fine." Amal kept working, not knowing that there was someone much more skilled working the same problem. But, in the end, it was entirely serendipitous, as Vega managed to secure the lift just as another rocking of the elevator shaft pushed Amal completely off of the platform she was working on, and sent her tumbling down towards the level below. Except not, as she found herself being invisible hand space magic lifted back up onto mostly stable ground. There was a sharpness in AMal's expression, as she turned, unconsciously looking for that long-missed figure in white. But that one was nowhere to be seen. It was the voice that brought Amal's head around and not the one she had expected, "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She did not say 'I don't know what happened.' Because well, she did. The mining station was coming down around their ears. But there was still work to be done. A shake of her head cleared the echani's mind, and she paused, catching sight of something, she though. And then, like a crazy person, which, perhaps she was, she moved to start climbing down one of the maintenance ladders.
Since the director is ignoring his question, Syrus frowns deeply, but decides that the second-best way to retrieve his Nautolan friend is by...waiting to see what happens.
For a time, he does lock eyes with the young Jedi, Nora, who looks his way, a soft 'hmph' uttering forward from him before he's growling under his breath and turning to march towards Ban, eyes closing for a time. He comes to a stop and looks around. "Jedi! There are survivors across the crumbling walkway!" he informs them. It doesn't look like he's in a mindset to jump to their aid.
Shemar is busy helping people to get from the infirmary to the ships. He's not the only one helping to guide and assist, so when he sees what /else/ is going on, and Amal descending deeper down where there's a fire, the pilot hands off the guy he's been helping and moves to the edge. He also catches a glimpse of Zandra.
"Need a hand?" He totally thought he heard someone asking for help over here but there is a lot of Chaos. The pilot wearing his Resistance Trooper gear slips over the edge and starts to lower himself down with care. Despite there being some urgency, there's also a fire raging below and the former Spec Ops Lieutenant is not keen to be rash and get himself into a position where /he/ needs to be rescued. So Shemar makes certain of his own descent and safety and within moments he's on the same level with Amal.
An arm is raised to flip his helmet's blast shield down, his eyes squinty from the smoke and tearing against the pain.
"Did I hear someone calling for help?" Mindful of the heat, the pilot moves to assist the Echani in looking around...
This rumbling caught Kohnner a bit more by surprise as he helped the last people off the lift. He had to hold onto some scaffolding as his maglock boots started to whir as the twisted gravity of the station pulled him every which way during this sections violent collapse. The Canine turns his head sharply as Amal takes a dive, instinct wanting to jump to her aid. However, the Jedi's invisible hand catches the Echani. Instead Kohnner nods to Amal who comes up to help him and they bot get the last two off the lift.
After a moment he studies Amal as she looks down to a lower level, <<"What is it you see?">> He asks, chancing a look himself but the shrill cries of the Kiffar (Syrus) for someone to save the poor souls across the way has his attention redirected. He struggles a moment to follow Amal, clearly having a 'bad feeling' about it. Instead he leaps over onto the next bit of scaffolding, his maglocks gripping tightly onto the metal.
Before him he sees a young woman and a middle aged one who seems injured. <<"Ah Greetings...">> He stands there, towering over them a moment. <<"Here, hop on.">> He kneels down and scoops up the older injured woman and places her piggy back behind him. Standing back up, he grunts. He didn't realize she was that heavy. His knees start to wobble a bit and he has to take a couple breaths to steady himself. Maybe he should have carbo loaded before this little workout.
The heat continues to climb, and Zelo's ducking down to stay under the smoke as he sizes up . One gloved hand still rubs at his abdomen, which had taken the majority of the brunt from his rough landing not long ago. The durasteel needs to move. Containing the spread of the fire is the best way to keep as many safe as possible. The durasteel ties and connectors are not insubstantial, but Zelo tests the lot of it anyway. Maybe he can- Nope. Far too heavy to flick. <"Smarter, not harder..."> An idea arises, and Zelo pulls out a flat sheet of durasteel, placing it in front of the bonded, bundled mess and sticking his shoulder to it. Now...
CLICKfwoomp
The force of the jetpack presses Zelo forward as he controls his body as much as possible to keep all pushing power going forward, pushing the durasteel back through the door... Until... It starts to give. It starts to give a little too well. The Nautolan kills the rocket, trying to leap himself backward while the durasteel cascade in, but... The rocket burns a little too long, and now there's some Mandalorian Beskar - and a very unhappy Zelo - keeping the door from closing.
<<"The durasteel's out of the way, but if you could stop the door closing for a moment... I would appreciate it. Obstruction has... Changed.">>
The call of 'jedi' rings out through the tunnels and Nora's chin lifts. There's a motion of a hand towards a collapsing pathway across from Syrus, but it seems as if Kohnner is already leaping across to aid them. Aryn has found a wounded miner and is doing what she does best, leaving Nora to... what. What are you going to do, Lady Frayus. The sound of a collapsing drill catches her attention, alongside the high-pitched scream of a young man that has been blown over a railing. Nora is quick -- too quick, it would seem. Her connection with the Force, and how it matches her movements, is still new. That first step is awkward, but the subsequent steps see her close the distance rapidly to the man who has fallen.
Quick reflexes see her snatch his falling body with one hand and adrenaline, stubbornness, muscle pull him up and across the railing, where he collapses to safety.
"An angel...!" he calls out, "You are an angel."
"Go... go," she encourages him through gritted teeth. Her left hand reaches for her pectoral that is -definitely- feeling that man-weight fly in the morning.
Lugging an extinguisher, Khalim begins more carefully making his way down that increasingly smoke-choked corridor when the station is shaken by post-detonation aftershocks. Debris filters down, between durasteel panels, creating a haze equal parts grit and smoke. 'Nope', he thinks, and that extinguisher is tossed aside, the mirialan trotting back in the direction of the hangar bay and all the vessels currently being loaded by station survivors, some carried, some - the walking wounded - carrying themselves.
Re-entering that bay, Khalim's retraced steps once again bring him near that fallen form that had given up the golden lapel symbol a few long minutes earlier. Less obscured by smoke, he can clearly see for the first time that the dead man is wroonian. The mirialan pauses long enough to slip his 'pad out for a rather unappealing holostill.
Then it's long strides towards the Blur, and an ushering of nearby wounded up its ramp.
Vega gives a look to the doors and then realizes Zelo is trapped. Oh no! "Hey, hang on just a sec no one squishes that one but us!" she calls out as she tries to find which door it is. Aha, it's that one! She's not one hundred percent sure, but they'd never know that! She realizes that the controls are failing and she frowns deeply, "Oh that's not good..." she whispers.
His mind may have been on the fritz, but Corto's arms were as strong as ever. When you're as big and burly as the Feeorin cowboy, lifting heavy weights ain't no thing.
This was heavy, though. The giant slab of durasteel made the Drifter's muscles pop in pain, but age was a help rather than a hindrance here. A bit older, and he'd be lifting it with one hand.
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" was the mighty cry as he flung, slamming the new durasteel bridge in place.
Ban Iskender's green eyes crack open as Vhe offers that encouragement. He swallows against a dry throat, even as sweat begins to bead and drip down his face. "I know not... how long," the soldier mutters through clenched teeth. "Get.. them clear." He holds out with every scrap of will, until at last one of his fellows is able to spare him a measure of the weight. A great rush of air is breathed in and a mute nod of thanks given aside to Yuun. Drawing in a deep breath, he seeks to move the collapsing drill aside, but the shattered machinery remains unpredictable, and the brief respite ends abruptly as his grasp through the Force falters.
The work being done on Kafrene is nothing short of a miracle. People are flooding ships and Aryn sees more than her fair share of injured as they flood past her. The severely injured woman is still with Aryn, still trying to catch her breath. "The Circle..that is what they called themselves. Fervent believers...maybe...not sure. But they wanted..." She grits her teeth and clutches at her stomach. "They came in...demanding.." she starts to pass out, the blood loss enough to be done with her.
Back to the drill and all that is unfolding in the mining corridors. The Jedi are doing all they can to keep the drill and its attahced strut from cleaving through the main walkway that leads to safety. They manage that, but as they let it go and direct it the collective grip falters as Ban and Yuun struggle. Most of the main walk is saved but the strut falls, descends and connects with the main walk further back. It starts to give and with it the walkway.
Kohnner and group only has so much they can do. Only so much time before everything gives way.
Corto is unlucky and Vhe, caught off guard while she directs people through the smoke steps back into open air, her heel slipping as she falls back into the open heated air that rises from the fires below.
The emergency warnings chime out.
"Life support failing. Immediate evacuation required. Proceed to the nearest docking bay. Life support failing...."
In treating the person, Aryn realizes that the woman is pregnant, but from what she can tell the pregnancy is okay. Better when Aryn puts her talents in healing to use to ward off elements of internal bleeding. She talks the woman through some calming breathes, encouraging her to breathe in deep and release slowly, meanwhile, Aryn is running a small investigation over the chemical burns she's found. She's only able to determine that the substance is synthetic, perhaps corrosive, so she uses a base powder to remove the immediate threat and stop the burn. More tests would be required if Aryn was to discover the source of this anomaly.
"You will need to share this information with the law enforcement. Perhaps they can launch an investigation into this odd cult. For now, let's get you up and some place safe, okay? Wrap your arm over my shoulders.. and on the count of three.." Aryn counted then lifted the woman up, easing her away from the danger the alarms heralded.
Zandra's eyes widen as that strut goes falling down. Her breath catches for a moment, and as she looks over, she catches sight of folks trying to fall. "Hey, not today," she calls, her hand flying out towards Corto, and pulling him up with those invisible TK hands. She holds until he gets his footing and then releases him, with a nod, assuming she can catch his attention. "Run, everyone run," she calls, suiting her actions to words. She heads for the Sabacc, and promptly starts directing folks aboard the Sabacc until her cargo hold is full. "Let's go!" She'll wait for Shem, her co-pilot today.
Amal, who had made it down to the lower level in one pieces, looked over at the armored figure whom she did not know. But a helping hand was not one to be throw aside. "I thought I heard something down here." But it was hell trying to see, and she did not have the luxury of anything to block out the smoke. So, she began as she meant to go on, beginning a search of the level until she was stopped by a body as she kicked it and a groan. Not from the same body. "Looks like we might have found the instigators." Two of the bodies did not look at all like miners. They looked like, well, robed figures in a place where robes should not be. Imagine the updraft. Well, as Amal took a knee, she looked over the two dead bodies and the one living one. "Strip those two, bring back those things on their neck and anything else you think might identify them. I'll get this one moving." She moved to do just that. The minder who was blaster shot, she heaved up, tossing him over her shoulder fireman style, before she started back towards the ladder to begin the climb up. If she managed to make it up, it was going to be a hell of a run under weight to get clear to the docking bays and the ship waiting there.
"You seem to have it in hand, Yuun," Syrus responds to his erstwhile companion. "Feel the rolling waves of the Force crash against you. Become one with it, Yuun," he says, before guffawing and moving to walk away.
He's marching towards the exit, the sudden feeling that all is pretty much lost overwhelming him. Approaching one of the tunnels out, a gas line bursts and shoots a wall of flame out in front of him. He lifts his hand to protect his eyes from the intense heat for a moment before he's stepping closer to the spout of flame and reaching his hand out towards it.
The leather of his glove singes and begins to melt away, revealing the half-flesh half-robo hand beneath. The flames lick up his arm and begin to engulf his body, his jacket also twisting and crinkling as it, too, starts to burn away under the deluge of fiercely hot temperatures. He screams a bit in defiance and the flames on his person whip about, sinking into his flesh and disappearing with a whoosh, his hand now stemming the tide of the rolling fire. He turns to look at a group of evacuees behind him and jerks his head towards the exit.
"Go on, then."
Kohnner was not worried about life support failing. He had oxygen. The lack of would help put out the flames and his suit was designed for space walks if needed. Where the problem was was that the two women he was helping didn't have any oxygen and he wasn't prepared to siphon them some. The Feeorin caught his attention as he chucked a beam across the gap so he didn't have to make another jump with the extra weight. Good, a make shift bridge. He started down it, watching to move faster but with all the rocking from the collapsing drill area, he needed to concentrate on his balance. He was so involved he didn't even notice Corto take a spill and have to get yanked to saftey by one of his fellow Jedi. <<"We're going to be okay... I promise. I have ah... how you say... Iced Blue Milk Cream on my ship. Yes. AHAHA. Is good.">>Perhaps all this was making him hungry.
When he got down onto 'level' ground his speed picked up. Then of course a cramp happened, slowing him down and causing him to limp <<"Ouch... oh... why now? I even stretched this morning.">> He glanced back at his charge to apologize but instead noticed a the ceiling starting to come down on them. Wide eyed, that's when he and the two women were yanked towards the more stable day, slamming and skidding against the ground. It took Kohnner a moment before he tilted his head back and looked to Nora, <<"Ahhah...">> He then started to get up and help people to his ship.
Stuck. STUCK. Not only is it a little humiliating, it's also dangerous as temperatures reach critical levels. Or maybe it's the fire continuing to spread. Zelo wiggles, shimmies, shakes, PULLS, and... No luck. There's a shock running through all the station and the heat, the hazard, all of it, inspires the Nautolan to take even more risks. Like igniting his rocket pack while he's stuck with it in a door. There's some maneuvering, a back-arch and clickFWOOMP, the Mandalorian is free, watching the door pause, hesitate for a moment and then slam shut with enough force to make a Halfalorian. There's a moment to take a deep breath and appreciate the fact that he's intact when a piece of his heart falls. Well, all of one of them. Beyond the walkway, over the railing, wild hair plummets and before he even thinks, Zelo leaps over the railing, angled like a dart and speeding to Vhe as she falls.
<"VHE!">
Wind whips as it pushes past his visor, the durasteel basket behind him protecting his tendrils and keeping them in line. She is already two stories down, speeding toward the landing far, far below, but he makes up the time, lining up with her before he clicks the rocket's controls, igniting, burning up the feet between them, his arms out and catching the Jedi, pulling her close. There's only a split second to relish in the reunion as the rocket is still burning, speeding them both straight down toward impending death. <"I have you."> It's all he can say before he's guiding the controls around and bringing himself around to be the more 'under' of the pair. <"Exhale in three. Two. One.">
There's a blinding rush of gravity as Zelo banks 'forward' in his frame, pulling them parallel to the ground and U'ing straight up in the same maneuver. Over such a short window, no more than a dozen meters, the gravity is enough that his black-pool eyes white out and he temporarily loses vision. But they're moving up and with a shake of his head, his hearts start the circulation moving again and he can see enough to JUST DODGE another strut, weave around the drill and with a corkscrew spin alight in a tumbling, haphazard manner that leaves the two barreling over each other into the corridor in a tumble of gleaming beskar, durasteel, wild brown hair, and feathers. Through all of this, he doesn't ever let go though, lying for just a moment with a hand on hers, before the shake of the station has him rising, sitting up and looking to Vhe.
<"Vhe, are you alright?"> Zelo wonders if HE's alright. Slowly, he starts to get a boot under him, then turns and gets a knee under instead as he tries to help the both of them get back to their feet.
Nora Frayus gives that man another push towards the exit and groans at the feeling of that tugged and strained muscle across her chest. It's then that she notices the uneven ground of that floating bridge giving Kohnner some trouble. He's nearly there, but he slips once. Slips twice. Nora groans and tips her head to the side, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempts to reach out to the Force. To listen to it and understanding. Syrus may have laughed at his metaphor -- crashing waves. But for Nora, it's apt. Waves crashing, the sound of them oppressive, loud, and powerful. She doesn't need to control it or understand it. She just needs to...
Kohnner stumbles again, but this time, he'll feel something subtle right his path. Something so small and so simple. A little lift. A little pull. And, on the other side of it, Lady Frayus with her hand extending. She brings it over her chest with a soft exhale of air. Nora gives Kohnner a soft nod and then pushes off the railing to head towards where the last few members of the rescue party are ascending from the bottom floor.
Across the bay, across a sea of injury and fear, the Blur's ramp remains lowered. Khalim can see it, a beacon of comparative safety, yet that distance is an obstacle compounded by time. They have so very little left before this station, or this deck at least, collapses around them.
The body of that wroonian left behind, the mirialan attempts to round up a crowd as he proceeds across thruster-blackened deck plating. Four walking wounded are successfully directed, falling in around Khalim as they begin to make their way towards the waiting ship.
Movement at the periphery of his vision prompts a glance up, and that's when he sees it. An enormous pipe, an easy meter in diameter and trailing flames, twists free of its suspension and begins to swing down. Other points of suspension fail as its twisting weight becomes unbearable, and it begins dropping right for that little cluster of survivors surrounding Khalim.
The yell that escapes contains nothing in the way of recognizable words, just an expression of alarm. Danger. Two see as he does, darting out of the way of their own accord, but two simply stare up, mouths agape at the doom that falls upon them. Khalim bodily impacts both, shoving them away at the very last moment. Though he is not crushed, he ends up sprawled, flames lapping at his side from that crash of twisted, burning station infrastructure. Fortunately that aged suit of armor he wears, a remnant of the once-proud Army of the Republic, is enough of a shield against the heat that it results in singes to plasteel but little more.
He rises, one of those walking wounded having turned around to offer a hand, and together they begin herding yet more survivors aboard the Blur. As many as can possibly fit, and then some.
Vega's one of those weirdos that shouldn't be left unattended since she finds herself in the strangest of situations. The ebony robed jedi with the white hair goes towards all the debris, finding a bit a pile up that seems to be making noise. She frowns and then leans towards it, a little shuffling of her feet as she crouches down a little to peer through a hole and then she sneaks her way in between the rails and blocks of duracrete that had fallen. It's like a small goblin getting into a vent or something horrifying. It's sort of weird to watch especially since it's not natural. She skitters around for a moment until she finds what she heard, "Help is here, just stay calm." the Echani whispers to the frail woman that she finds. She gathers her up and then contorts her way out of the debris pile again and heads towards one of the medics with her. Once the woman is deposited at the medics she makes a dash to see if she can find anyone else in need of help.
Yuun strains as he feels the pressure of the strut press on him as he feels the weight of the strut fully on him. He then hears Syrus words, 'Be like water, my friend.' some old holo he remembers comes to his mind. A small smile shows on his face that Syrus wouldn't see but with that, Yuun moves forward and keeping his focus on the hears and now, he's able to move the strut away safely with the help of Ban. He pants and drops to a knee as he takes a moment to catch his breath, "Are you ok?" he asks as he looks to his friend and he feels the force pull his attention to his surroundings. He notices Amal and Shem, one carrying someone with them but that wasn't what was calling his attention, it was something wobbling. Seeing a sheet of durasteel looking to fall.
Yuun rushes down the corridor, using that Jedi speed and as he does he skids behind the two and teh ones they're helping. "GO! We're about to be closed off!" he calls as he runs with them, keeping behind them and as he runs with them, he pushes them and the being that Amal is carrying as the durasteel comes falling, Yuun rolls past. "That was close!"
Welp, here I am.
Falling to his doom, the Drifter had an eternity to contemplate life, all compressed into the span of a second. How had he gotten here? How many villages, towns, cities had he visited in the past two hundred years? How many saved? How many lost? A lot of rumination lay ahead of him, but as we already know, Corto had an eternity.
Another second passed.
That was strange, the Feeorin hadn't yet flung to his fiery doom. Why? Oh, that's why, there was an invisible hand protruding from a purple haired woman hoisting him back into the sky. Or maybe it was pink haired, he couldn't really tell in the chaos. "Yer alright, ma'am," Corto complimented once he hit the deck, taking a moment to tip his hat in gratitude.
Then, he scrambled to his feet and started running. Huge tree-trunk legs carried his stride forward at blistering pace, allowing him to scoop up a fallen younger man in one arm.
Twist. Rotate. Pivot. /Yeet/.
The young man was bodily flung through the door, hurled like a huttball for the game-winning play. He hit the ground and rolled, picking up scrapes and bruises and maybe a fracture, but at least he was definitely alive. Wait, where was the Feeorin? There he was, bursting through right behind him, delayed only slightly by saving a life.
"Well, bit of a hairy one, there!"
Ban Iskender staggers as the platform he stands on shudders with the crashing drill mechanism. His gait is uneven, both for unsteady footing and unstable ground, but the gentleman keeps his feet, gives a curt nod to Yuun, and moves after the rest toward their intended escape.
As he passes, there is a telltale hiss of escaping gas from a ruptured conduit, and in the instant the smoke and sparks ignite the deadly fuel, Ban's gloved hand reaches out, robbing the eruption of its power with no more harm than a brief flash of light, an acrid smell, a d wisps of spent smoke.
The air is an empty embrace for the Ysanna as Vhe falls. Her eyes see the failing ceiling as it gives, as the drill twists further but the panic in her chest only registers the fact she has nothing solid beneath her. The heat like a sickening presence and a reminder what lies far down the shaft waiting for her as her hands reach out, attempting to find anything as her wild mane blinds her moments later, smoke searing her lungs as the wise leave with the last warning from the systems that are failing, torn apart at its heart as the drill begins to twist and screech in complaint, twisted metal giving finally beneath the weight of its load. It crashed downwards, fire flaring where its systems are pulled free and more durasteel is wrenched free and showered down upon those escaping.
As the drill collapses, Zelo manages to capture Vhe without colliding too heavily with the draw of gravity. As their forms rise and rush forward through the peppering of mine ceiling and walls they end up in the wide corridor much like they had entered in. Vhe is still trying to orient herself as the two are suddenly rocketing upwards and over that walkway that is giving way. As they hurdle forward the landing is inevitable but beskar and Zelo's form keeps her from too much undo harm but the awkwardness of the termination is clear as the Ysanna catches her breath finally, wild eyed and still in shock. She merely nods and stares up at the visor covered face. "Yes...I think so..." she remarks.
Just then the heavy doors to the corridor are screeching against debris to close. Meant to seal off the living areas from the destruction of the asteroid's mining facilities.
The klaxons continue to sound as the tomb like rumbling THUMMMMM as they meet and lock with a hiss is followed by a massive explosion as the facility is rocked once again.
The Assistant Director is watching all of this and over her loudspeaker she yells. "This will not hold forever. Everyone to the ships!" She starts waving people towards the direction, lights starting to flicker and go out as even here the life support is failing. They go out. DARKNESS. Emergency generators for the living quarters rumble to life and the whine of them is a backdrop to the continued explosions and decimation of the sixth quadrant mining shaft. Loss has happened, terror is felt, but there are many more alive due to the efforts made.
With her charge safely to local medical and law enforcement, Aryn abandons further effort to help in favor of putting some distance between herself and the disaster. She boards her ship and prepares to depart, awaiting emergency staff to grant her permission to leave the hangar bay.
Corto gets a big smile for his acknowledgement, more that he figured it out than anything. Clever. Zan helps the director, getting folks loaded on ships. More people. More ships. And then Zan waits at the foot of the ramp of the Sabacc. She helps people board, filling the cargo hold to full and overfull, as she waits. When Shemar makes it, he gets perhaps the warmest smile Zan has shown thus far. "C'mon, let's get out of here," she calls. "I saved you a seat." A pause. "You might have to share with Frost."
Amal, who was still carrying the man - there was no time, now, to pass him off to medical staff, charged past the robed figure she also did not know (Yuun), making it just in time to avoid being trapped inside the dying station. She had kept apace with the man (Shemar) in republic armor (Sadly, she did not know *him* either. "The Clearwater, this way!" That would be the one with another echani waiting at the ramp, and the hold filled with evacuees. Ignore the fact that the female waiting looked identical to the one who was running under weight. Or not. In any regard, that was the direction in which Amal was headed. Whether the armored man or anyone else chose to come with her was his choice.
Releasing his hold on the gas line as he passes it, Syrus pries himself out of his half-melted jacket and tosses it to the side as he approaches the Silencer. His antique dealer friend is likely lost to the be-damned mines, but at least Syrus is alive and that's really what matters most.
Peeling his melted glove away from his skin with a hiss, Syrus eventually scampers his way up to the top of the Ranger and slides into place behind the yoke, flipping switches and preparing for launch. After completing a Zhu Yan-style pre-flight check (read: none whatsoever), the Ranger is whipping around and rocketing into the void before any Jedi get any bright ideas.
Trying to make it before the durasteel pieces fall and block the way to the ships, Shemar smacks Yuun a quick slap on his shoulder in passing, "Thanks! Appreciate it!" No clue /who/ Yuun is but hey, he likes being alive!
The Lieutenant gets through into the hangar with Amal who's lugging their injured guy. He keeps moving to assist her first, then as soon as they are loading up, he gives her a nod and breaks away to run to the Pure Sabac - where Zandra's waiting.
"I sure am glad to see you waited, thanks! Kind of give me a bad hair day if I got stuck here. Hard vacuum's kind of bad for my complextion!" Says the brown skinned pilot.
With a wink to Zandra, Shemar moves his arse to get on the ship and assist with any last refugees Zandra wants to load up before they GTFO.
There is a beaming smile when Vhe answers. Zelo's banged up, bruised, and definitely going to need some time to recover, but he's all in one piece, and so is she. Of course, outside, there's only the reflection off of the Mandalorian's H-visor. Rising to his feet, he pulls the Jedi to her feet, one hand reaching out to lift from her back as for a moment he hugs her. Then the loudspeaker kicks in and there is no time to actually experience the moment. <"We need to get out of here."> He pulls away, glove lingering on her hand, then squeezes. The crush of bodies, the crowds pushing for last seats and last rides away from the disaster separates them.
<"I'll have the engines going,"> he calls behind, and then the crowd moves Zelo toward the ships, where the Nomad awaits.
The rest of the party us up from the bottom floors and Nora Frayus takes one last look over her shoulder to make sure none remain who need aid. She begins to move down the very same hallway she ushered people (erotically, it's canon, look up my roll) when the chaos first broke out. In a few more moments, she's back to the very ship that she arrived on. Though a touch late, she's able to scramble onto the loading ramp before takeoff. "I'm here!" she announces. She isn't, however, able to strap herself in properly. Ignition thrusters push the ship up and away, and there goes Nora. Stumbling forward and planting on her hands first, then knees.
"Ahahaha, yes, ow."
Leaving wasn't quite as scrape free as arriving. That aged Corellian tramp, the YT-1210 off to starboard, is shifted into the Void Blur by yet another rapidly departing starship upon ITS other side. "Kriffing amateur," he grates out, voice conveying threads of anxiety and anger. His dark brown gaze settles into a hard stare through transparisteel at that feel, which reverberates, however slightly, through the ship.
But his window has arrived and to not take it invites more dire impacts upon the Blur's durasteel skin. The ship's hypermatter reactor had been run at idle this entire time, and so it's simply a matter of driving the throttle forward, other hand upon the flight controls, and Khalim directs the Clearwater back out into the asteroid-strewn space surrounding the mining station.
Safe. Something itches at a sixth sense, however, and that golden spoked circle, once worn as a lapel ornament, is pulled back out and considered.
Safe, for now.
Yuun looks back behind him and he takes his cloak off as half was sheered off. "Whoa!" he says his eyes wide, "No problem." he says to Amal as he too begins racing towards his ship. Yuun double checks to make sure there is no other stragglers. Not seeing anyone, "MOVE! MOVE!" he calls out as he rushes towards his ship, "I have room if anyone need a ride." he calls. As he nears Vhe and Zelo, "Vhe you good?" he asks as nears his ship.
