Log:The Five Sabers - Atmospheric Dash
The Five Sabers - Atmospheric Dash
OOC Date: February 7, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Eebua Gnuda, Sar Yavok, Rheisa Dirleel, Kadi, Jehni'va Cihn, Nyla Forr, Rake, Tarion Tavers, Sapphira Tavers, Morth Biddemgulp
The Five Sabers... the day has finally arrived for the start of the grand race. Winners of this race are idolized by young children everywhere, many wishing to grow up and become an ace pilot of the caliper of their favorite racers and one day win the Sabers themselves. The announcement of the race taking place on Nar Shaddaa had garnered many curious second glances from those off world, many not thinking that the moon in the Hutt District the sort of place where you would find such a well known event, but with the announcement made and the paperwork signed, there was nothing to be done except accept it. Those on Nar Shaddaa had seen a heavy influx of tourists coming in for the race, many of whom have taken up residence for the proceedings in the Corellian Sector, or who have taken the bargains offered to Five Sabers enthusiasts and accepted the hospitality of Lord Eebua Gnuda in the Starport District in the deluxe hotel that was refashioned from the once Parmac executive office.
On the morning of the race, many platforms rest on the surface of the starport itself, boarding to their weight limits before launching to hover in the air. Each spectator platform is outfitted with a display screen that shows real time results of the race, as well as individual datapads that can be toggled to follow the progress of a specific racer. Gambling is offered on every corner as the final countdown strikes twelve and the Atmospheric Dash is finally at hand.
"Greetings ladies and gentlemen!" the melodic voice of Mynark Sabosen, the voice of the news on Nar Shaddaa, calls out over a P.A. system, his voice launched wide in all directions. "And welcome to the first ever offering of the Five Sabers on Nar Shaddaa!" The Chiss pauses as cheers erupt all around the starport from those taking up seats in one of the hovering spectator stands. "This is the first stage of the Five Sabers, the Atmospheric Dash. Today we will see the universe's top pilots careen through canyons made of durasteel and glass, dive down into sunless corridors so narrow that death awaits at every turn, and maneuver through dangerous obstacles all for the glory of being crowned winner... and for the purse of four hundred thousand credits, of course!" There is another pause as yet more cheers are screamed out, names chanted, and jealous eyes are cast upward. "And now, without further ado, please direct your eyes skyward toward the starting line where even now our racers are moving into position!" Up far above bright lights flash into existance, a beam of energy shooting between them to mark a glowing line for ships to assemble at.
Ra'akksi Monn was flying his ship, a Helix-class light freighter. The Sithspit, as the small name placard on the hull says, was a sleek vessel illegal in some systems, and the Shistavanen pilot had her fueled up and crewed with a pair of droids. An R2 unit and a BB-droid both operated nearby in case there was something required that couldn't be handled from the cockpit. Rake awaited the beginning of the race, for that moment when the ships would launch from the starting line in the balls-out race through the maze of Nar Shaddaa. For Rake, this was the most dangerous part of the entire race.
"Ugh, I hate that guy." Jehn drawls through ship comms as Mynark's voice cuts through the air. The Hotbox is pretty poppin: Jehn is hopped up on several pots of coffee, some bass-heavy tunes, and nerves as she jitters with the ship's controls. "Crona is strapped in, right?" She asks the mechanic in the seat behind her. "And Pickle on nav?" That she has probably asked several times by this point, but only because she's convinced that the droid hates her. The Maccrow drifts into position beside the Sithspit.
Nyla Forr nods curtly, looking over her shoulder. "All good, Pickle?" she calls out, to which their R2 unit replies positively. "She says you have a chance," Nyla explains to Jehn. It's a lie. A filthy lie. Nyla double checks the Anooba and then gives the pilot a thumbs up. "Dunno why we brought her, but she's in! We're good to go." The short human cracks her knuckles and snuggles down into her copilot chair.
The man flying the old busted U-Wing with likely more carbon scoring than paint? Sar Yavok, ladies and gentlemen. The Corellian man sits in the captain's chair of the aged troop transport, doing his pre-flight checks and humming quietly to himself. Everything accounted for, the Freedom Cry lines up next to the other vessels, swing-wings extended.
Morth Biddengulp was strapped into the pilot chair of a new ship. A Firespray by the name of Parralax owned by one frenemy Tarion Tavers. The young Mon Cal is still not quite sure how he ended up as the pilot on this odd racing team, but being fairly confident in his own abilities, and the fact that he brought a secret weapon named Kadi along with him, he was thinking they might have half of a shot... maybe. Holding tight to the controls of the vessel with suction cup capped fingers, Morth guided the ship along and moved into position beside the Hotbox. The engine roar and vibrations that run throughout the Firespray keep any chance of hearing the tunes from the Hotbox a negative one million, but that doesn't keep young Morth from peering through the side view port and offering a friendly wave at the other ship. "I hope you guys are strapped in back there... I have never flown a ship like this before."
As the other ships' names are rattled off, the announcer calls out, "And next in line we have the Parallax, crewed by Morth Biddengulp and Qadira Suuryet of the local Waywards guild, and Tarion Tavers of Defiance Barter and Acquisitions!"
"Just don't get your slime all over the controls," Tarion grumps from the copilot's seat inside the Parallax, glancing suspiciously at Morth's suction-cup-tipped fingers. What a weirdo. "I went to a lot of trouble to get this ship, we're not gonna spoil it on the first trot out of the hangar." Frowning to himself, the bounty hunter checks the ship's readouts, skimming over the screens cautiously. "Looks good, you alright down there, Suuryet?"
Kadi took time to examine the Parallax before things got started. She's a good engineer, but she also does believe in being ready where she can. So now that she's checked it out, she settles into her seat, strapping in, as requested. There is a smile on her face as she glances Morth's way more or less. "I've never been in a race before, you know." A pause. "Well, not officially." She hopefully won't have anything to do but enjoy the ride, but if there is a spare sensor station, she'll make use of it. "All lights are green, - " she pauses and then says, "Tavers. Good to go.”
SPECTATOR - Some come for the spectacle, the pagentry, the betting or even to just catch a glimpse of a celebrity. That's most people, Meep is not most people. Meep came for the food. The little Teek wears a giant orange foamy hat on his head, tall enough that he can be spotted in a crowd by the top tip of the hat bobbing and weaving through the crowd. Balanced in one hand is about a dinner dish-sized platter of foods. The other hand has a giant foam pointy-finger, same color as his hat. Trying not to spill, he weaves his way through the stands until he finds a seat in a section more reserved for the shorter species, so he can see properly but even so.. it's a long shot but hey, the food is good! Sitting, he picks up what looks like a cotton candy stick and begins to munch.
SPECTATOR - Someone in the hanger had mentioned the name. Tarion Tavers was flying in the Five Sabers. That couldn't be true. The mere thought of it was idiocy. And yet as Sapphira Tavers came closer and closer to the stadium seating at the starport, she heard the name more and more until finally as she jogged up the steps and came out onto one of the seating decks, she heard it announced. She stands there, staring up at the line of ships above, her mouth slightly agape. The redhead is dressed much the same as earlier; cargo pants, boots, a tank top, and a jacket. And she looks amazed. "What?" She shouts in disbelief, as if the announcer himself could hear her and would explain how Tarion Tavers, of all people, is in this race.
SPECTATOR - "E'hahm!" Exclaims one of many, many persons seated on a spectator platform as it suddenly begins to rise up, up, up and away from the tarmac below. It's Rheisa Dirleel, huddled between bodies with her son, Umak, and Raim. She's dressed to endure the heat and grime, swaddled by a desert shawl and durable leggings. The shawl drapes like a tent o'er her montrals and swoops across over a shoulder, shrouding much of her face from view, save for the eyes. As the racers are announced, she nervously fidgets with the datapad, selectin which ships in particular she'd like to follow while trying to keep an eye also on the big screen AND on little Umak. Umak could care less about the proceedings. He's busy gnawing on a fried chuba and is contently squashed between her and Raim's shoulder. The Chiss sits pensively, silently. A man from hips-up. Machine from hips-down.
SPECTATOR - GR'vesh finds a seat in the stands, more interested in the ships themsleves rather than the crew inside them, his eyes scan over the screens before them and looks down to the ships still sitting there. He nods to Rheisa nearby, a smile on the shadowed lips reveals mostly pearly fangs. IT was always god to get a glimpse of potential customers, and see what the compitition had out there also. He keys into his datapad a few that look promising and reads over the states more than any skills the crews have, though that will play in as well and he knows that.
SPECTATOR - Taking a seat in the stands as while listening to the pre-race blather and accompanying announcements, Mae took the detour through the food concessions and vendors and has acquired a rather unhealthy selection of fried food and accompanying fizzy drinks and the like. At at least one pennant with which to wave and in general make merry with. Race day!
After all of the ships have assembled at the starting line, Mynark Sabosen calls out, "Everyone, please turn your heads to regard the person that made all of this possible, LLLLOOOORRRRDDDD EEEEBBBUUUAAAA GNUUUUDAAA!" As his voice echoes all around the area, a large hover platform for the Hutt and many notable Senators from other systems flies up into a premium viewing area. The large crimson hutt glistens with a thin sheen of slime as he lifts an arm to respond to mixed reviews, some positive and some negative, that are yelled out. At least in this district, many civilians have prospered from the Hutt's efforts after the terrorist attack cause a rebuilding and beautification effort in the district, so many clap and cheer.
High up above, a signal droid flies into view before the racers. It is inset with many different lights, and as the notice is given for the race's start, the droid begins to light up one bulb at a time. The top four are orange as they blink into life, culminating in a bright emerald blaze at the bottom to mark "GO" made all the louder by the sudden roar of cheers as the ships' engines flare into life and launch forward. The track is lit with floating markers that show the course of the race, rocketing away from Lord Eebua Gnuda's Starport and winding a weaving course through the topmost reaches of skyscrapers before finally diving down a steep canyon where the district meets that of the Gearhead District. Swooping low, the criss-crossing ventilation pipes and large exhaust vents mark Ko Hentota.
SPECTATOR - Meep hardly looks up as the ships take off and the crowd roars. He finishes off the cotton candy, leaving a bit of staining around his mouth before he takes out the much messier items. It's greasy, gooey, cheesey food and he shovels it in like he hadn't eaten in days. And he makes a terrible mess of it, really ought to be wearing a bib for this. He pauses only long enough to take a loooooong, loud, obnoxious slurp of his sugary, carbonated beverage through a swirly straw.
Rake barely qualified for the race, but his skills laid in navigation more than sheer piloting. Few could maneuver through the dark unknowns with as much skill. As the race actually begins, the Shistavanen is slow off the line, hesitation and a near miss with another ship and he's behind the main force. Beeps from the droids warn the pilot to take it easier on the throttle, likely out of fear he'd crash them.
SPECTATOR - As the ships start off, Sapphira rotates her body to watch them fly off from the line, until they're quickly out of easy sight. But there's a monitor nearby, and a few quick steps crosses the place between where she stands and where it stands. She nudges a few people and aliens aside until she can finally get to the screen she wants: the Parallax. And she can see the pilot and copilot within. And she swears, loud and foul. Her look is one of disbelief, confusion, and concern.
"She's fam." Is the only explanation Jehni'va Cihn offers regarding the Anooba's inexplicable prescence in the cockpit. "Do you have that j- is that Morth flying Tarion's ship?" Blink. Blink. Slow, confused wave. "Got shot in the ass for that shit." She grumbles, reaching behind her to give the copilot's knee a quick, soft squeeze, distractions dropping away. "Alright. Okay. Right - here we go, I guess." She takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut and then... ZOOM SHE'S AWESOME. The Hotbox is makin' her two mommies proud as the ship lurches into that early lead.
SPECTATOR - 'Hotbox' appears upon the screen held so tightly in hand on Rheisa's lap. The shrouded montrals uplift in response to the sudden change of lights and roar of thrusters. The living shadow nearby gets an upnod of acknowledgement. Umak gnaws contently away on his snack, wedged in his seat by the protective weight on either side. Raim glance over to Rheisa with a little smile, appreciative in the very least of this opportunity to 'get out of the house', so to speak. Make a public show of being a family unity with his questionable-love, Rheisa, and the little boy raised between them.
Nyla Forr tugs on her belt, check. She snaps her datapad into it's holder and fires up communications with their on board R2 unit. "Ready!" Nyla leans back into the chair, glancing out of the side ports. "Morth must have owed Tay Tay a life debt," she snorts, voice bouncing as the ship takes off. "Damn, J!" she approves with a shout.
"Alright, Kicker," Sar says, jamming the throttle forward, "Let's win some money." The U-Wing lurches forward, the immense weight of the hull and systems meaning a late start in the competition. The BB unit rolls around in the troop compartment, beeping affirmatively in response to the Corellian. "Hey, it's the Mynock, Kicker," Sar says of the ship that's first off the line. "Good ship," he adds.
Morth nods his head toward Tarion as the signal droid moves into view. He waves a hand dismissively of Tarion's speciesist comments, figuring by now that the man simply can't help himself. The young Mon Cal turns large eyes onto the droid and watches as the lights begin to flash one after another, and nerves climb steadily with each light. As the final light flashes green, Morth twists the throttle and shoves the flight yoke forward as hard as he can, leaning forward at the waist to compensate for his short stature. He stares with jaw shuddering intensity straight forward, mouth bared in a terrified silent scream as the ships all rocket forward and Morth tries desperately to outdistance or outmaneuver the other ships and keep them all alive at breakneck speed. "Tarion!" he bellows, even though the man is sitting right beside him. "How are we doing?! I am scared to look around!"
Finally, an inferior species that understands him. When Morth waves off his comments, Tarion knows, deep down in the pit of his absent soul, that this is going to be a wild ride. In a good way. "We're doing great, keep the throttle forward," the bounty hunter replies blithely, shrugging as the Hotbox starts to pull ahead. "Damn them and that souped-up murderboat. That thing's eight different kinds of illegal, I've got some serious catching up to do." Flipping some switches to keep things regulated, the man peers around the large viewport. That's a nice feature of the Firespray, after all. "Just keep your googly eyes on the path, I'll keep an eye out for the other ships."
Kadi is relaxing at this point, enjoying the ride. Oh, she's paying attention to the ship readouts, certainly. And she glances over at the vid screen set up so she can see the competition as well, occasionally. She listens to the sounds of the ship, wincing at Morth's bellow. "I can hear you back here without the comm, Morth. How are your vocal chords going to survive?" Good humoured teasing, at least that's how it's meant. She watches the results on the ship of Tarion's switches, keeping track of how his work is impacting the systems she cares about - all of them.
As the ships begin to develop small gaps between them as the race launches forward, there is a little more maneuverability in between the ranks. The course makes a rising upward and downward bobble as it rises and twists between both vertical and horizontal steam pipes of equal or greater size than these ships that are currently threading their way through. Ahead, the pilots can see the lit markers floating before all at once they disappear, marking the path of a straight vertical dive that is aiming for a tight squeeze for any ship between the remains of two buildings, razor sharp shards of steel sticking up toward the descending ships like a hungry set of fangs. Through the hole, ships are plunged into a lightless Duros Sector, vacant and crumbling buildings forming the walls of the canyon while streets far below serve as the floor.
Rake's not doing so well. He lost his advantage at the start, and tried making up for it by taking the shorter route. Of course, trying to calculate the best path cost him a few seconds and didn't end up with any advance, hell he almost collides with a damned building this time, but manages to avoid it at the last moment. Again, screems from the droids can be heard. "Awww shuddup," he mutters, falling even further behind.
The souped-up murderboat is only two kinds of illegal, thankyouverymuch. Jehn's eyes light up at the steep dip of death looming beneath them... And then in front of them. "Babe? Any way through this that doesn't kill us both?" She asks conversationally - trusting that Nyla is a magical wizard of ice and electronics more than she trusts her own powers of observation. No one should ever really trust Jehn's powers of anything. But that computer use delivers! "S'gonna be tight!" The pilot warns, yanking up on the yolk and barrel rolling the Hotbox toward a hole in the dilapidated structure. "Hope you're -" But before she can say 'right' or 'sure about this', they have burst loose - still in the lead!
SPECTATOR - Meep steadily makes his way through his food. It isn't long before he's done, rubbing his belly a little, his lips and mouth and... well.. most of his face and upper body are covered in bits of food detrius. He slides from his seat, his wobbly foamy hat swaying from side to side as he turns and slowly waddles his way up the stands and back towards the refreshment stands. Even as he walks, he bends down to pick up fallen bits of food, snacking on his way to get more snacks.
"Yup yup, you got this!" Nyla hums as she indicates the path with some frantic schematic-ing at the computer. There is beeping from Pickle, the green R2, and Nyla snorts. "C'mon, Pick. She's got this!" Nyla nudges a foot at the pilot chair to the side and in front of her. "Bangin', Jehn!" Nyla whoops, not seeming nearly as concerned with the loop that they pass through.
"Ooops," Sar remarks to himself as his swing-wings scrape against one of the buildings. "Should probably bring those in, huh?" he asks nobody in particular, before he pulls a lever back and the long wings whip themselves back around to run parallel with the ship, jutting out of the front like a pair of tusks. "Should've brought the Sunslinger, Kicker. Would've been at the finish line by now. Or in the side of the building.”
SPECTATOR - Sapphira remains gathered with a little group around some screens, watching the Parallax with interest. But some movement away from the little crowd catches her eye. A little creature plucking discarded food off the ground. Disgusting! But wait. "Meep?" the girl asks, having only met the teek earlier that day, but recognizing him. At least, she hopes. How different do teeks look from each other anyway?
With another glance to the screens she moves away, walking to the smaller creature but pausing in front of him. She wrinkles her nose. "How much did you spill on yourself, Meep?"
Morth still holds that teeth clenching look of silent terror, his google eyes wide as he follows the course into a steep dive. He is eyeing the Hotbox's rear exhaust ports with curiously as they dive through the maw into complete darkness and he pulls the ship up in effort to careen along the forgotten street. "Kadi, do you see anything on the sensors?" he calls out. There is a brief interlude, to be described in Kadi's pose, upon which they seem to spot the same shortcut that Nyla did. He follows the Hotbox step for step and the Parallax only gets slightly scuffed as it jumps through a hole in the dilapidated duracrete. "I wish they hadn't seen that!" Morth wails, his voice rising in pitch in his fear/excitement.
SPECATOR - Angling her head to get a good look at a bank of monitors that show several camera angles on the race, Mae takes a drink from the fizzy she's holding. A look between the different monitors is enough to help her figure out what position the different racers are in, while not even beginning to have a guess as to what sort of ship anyone is flying. She just enjoys the race, and the crowd. SPECTATOR - Meep looks up rather sheepishly.... or.. Teekishly? At Sapphira. He holds up a hand, giving the signal of 'Just a little bit' with two fingers but.. there's a sticky bit of ropey-candy linking those two fingers together sooooo. Plus he has a lot of stuff stuck in his fur. Meep seems to have been caught red, blue, orange, yellow and green-handed. Not wanting to waste any, he sticks his sticky fingers in his mouth and sucks on them, as if teeks needed a sugar rush.
"Well, they did, the beady-eyed bastards." In comparison to Morth, /everyone/ is beady-eyed. Look, solidarity, Morth. Tarion is trying here, okay. "Just keep the throttle-" and then they scrape the side of the hole. "Dammit, Fishman, I told you not to spoil it on the first outing!" the hunter grouches, swiveling his chair forward to try to peer out the viewport and eyeball the damage, which is, of course, a useless gesture and the thing isn't unduly harmed anyway. "Be careful /and/ go as fast as possible."
SPECTATOR - Rheisa takes a healthy swallow of the drink sitting by her foot. Then promptly spits it out, back into cup. Her throat is on fire and eyes frantically flit aside in search of HER cup. This /is/ the only cup. Someone has accidentally made off with her cup and left this one in its place. Oh dear. Thirsty? She is. Grimacing with the knowledge that she is going to pay for this in some form or another later, the Togruta takes a timid sip of the grownup beverage and forces the swallow down, down, down. Then another.
Kadi starts moving her fingers on the screen as she spies the upcoming building. "I'm on it, Morth," she replies immediately, as she jerks her attention off the ship in front of them and back to her own ship. "Nice route," she murmurs with some admiration for whoever came up with the idea. She finds a match, zooming in and letting the computers plot the trajectory. That's then shunted forward to both the pilot and copilot. "That'll work," she calls. "If you are quick about it." She has a moment to breathe before she's holding on as the ship rocks and rolls through the building and escapes out the other side. Then she leans to her station, making sure she can check the hull and the rest of the systems. "Cosmetic damage only, it looks. Hull integrity is solid."
The course continues onward for those piloting the racing vessels. The course markers glowing a bright yellow that seems all the brighter given the complete darkness. Ship interiors are lit only by the glow of their instrumentation contained in mechanical panels. They will soon note a sloping rise to the grade of the track, climbing steadily as the course itself seems to grow more well lit. As they round the sharp corner of a building, causing the ships rocketing along below to fly at a steep sideways bank, to the terror of anyone not strapped in, they see the opening far ahead. The sloping incline continues until it spits out the ships into the heart of the Corellian Sector beneath the flow of heavy air-speeder traffic visible above. Speeders flash their lights and raise their hands, pumping their fists at the racers far below as the course winds them through the Corellian District, darting through the Entertainment District to the high class neighborhood where ships are made to perform a tight cork-screw maneuver around and up Dacon Tower from base to peak.
SPECTATOR - "Just a little, huh?" Sapphira asks Meep with a look of amusement on her face. But then the crowd lets out a gentle 'Oh!' at the damage taken to the Parallax, and it causes Sapphira to swing around again, and to look at the screen for that particular ship. She watches a replay, and tightens her jaw. "Dammit, Tare," she groans, but that groan is once again laced in concern, too.
Then the ships start to swerve into the districts below, and Sapphira goes so far as to bite on the knuckle of her forefinger, nervously.
Rake is doing horribly. He knew he was going to have problems in this stage of the race, and it wasn't because of his ship. "Damn, I'm getting old," the Shistavanen says with a sigh as he has another near collision. "I wonder if there's a gag trophy for last place in each heat, if so, we're gonna be doing great." He mutters, backing off the throttle. "We'll make it up in the endurance portion," he snarls, providing that he actually survives this heat of the race, or his ship does. Again, he tries the shortest route to attempt to make up some time. The sleek ship banks too hard, the pilot used to flying in space, not in atmosphere. "Dammit!" he exclaims as he has to pull off at the last moment to keep from flying through a building. "Yep, let's just focus on finishing this heat in one piece." His droid at least gives him the heads up that he's not actually in LAST place, at least one other ship, a battered U-wing was behind him.
"This is going far better than I thought it would be!" Jehn whoops back at her copilot, the R2 unit, and the slobbery 'noob - who is somehow sleeping through this whole thing. Whatever, the pilot made the canine wear goggles that match her own so that moral support is really doing its job. The Hotbox weaves perilously through the undercity, dark and debris enveloping them until they're back above ground and making a hasty run for Dacon Tower. The Maccrow banks hard with a roar, rocketing past spectators before Jehn throws her weight behind the controls and pulls it into that corkscrew. "Shi - are we still winning?" There's no way they've succeeded that many rolls in a row.
Nyla Forr grabs the oh shit hold that she's found in their new ship. "Just pay attention!" she barks at the pilot of the Hotbox. "Who cares! Just /go/." And yet Nyla cranes her head around, tyring to peek out of the limited vision behind them. She turns back, punching at the computer with a furrowed brown.
Kickers breakdown of the area flicker across Sar's computer panel and the man nods, saying, "That'll do." He grumbles a little bit as he attempts to squeeze more speed out of the Freedom Cry, but the old bird's not offering much and he's not doing so hot. "Just gonna have to give it all she's got, Kicker."
Morth nods his head toward Tarion, without even really hearing what the man said. "Yes, yes... the winnings. I just want to keep us alive!" he squeals as he holds the throttle forward. As they begin to climb and rocket into the lit district, Morth breaths a sigh of relief. "At least we can see..." he says, before those large blue eyes peer up at the heavy speeder traffic. "Barnacle," he curses, "I hope we aren't flying through that!" As they continue on through the district, he calls out, "Kadi, just keep your eyes on the computers. If you see anything call it out!" And on and on he flies them, turning the Firespray on its side as they begin to spiral the skyscraper.
"To hell with living! We need the money!" Tarion yells back, flipping switches and tossing levers like he actually knows what he's doing. In effect, he's actually boosting power to the engines while cutting the power to the shields. Kadi may find this alarming, if she notices, and Morth would too, if he knew, but that doesn't stop the maverick in the grey armor with the overriding greed and a sidearm of avarice. "We gotta /win./"
As soon as she can, Kadi doesn't wait for Morth this time. Or for Tavers. She's on the computer, working out the next bit of the course, fingers flying over the screen and nose wrinkling with concentration. She doesn't immediately notice what Tarion is doing, due to her concentration on the course they're on, and using the computer to help Morth's piloting. "Whatever happened to having fun?" she asks whimsically.
SPECTATOR - Sapphira is watching, bright green eyes locked to the screen. At least until she starts getting wacked in the chest with a foamy hat and can hear Meep's speech, such as it is, at her feet. "Hmm? Oh no, Meep," she says, shaking her head. She'll take the candy from him and toss it away. "That's dirty. You can't eat that. I'll get you some fresh. And you're filthy too..." she sighs, stepping aside to grab some napkins from a dispenser, and start to try to clean the teek up as best she can. Her eyes flit between him and the screen. She bites hard on her lower lip as the Parallax, not Phalanx like I keep trying to type, dips into the deep, curvaceous portion of the race. "Come on, Tare..." she mutters, mostly to herself and Meep.
SPECTATOR - A sudden WHOOP dislodges part of Rheisa's 'protective' gear and she fusses with tugging the shawl back over her awkwardly shaped skull before sitting back down. Three sips in and the alcohol's gone to her coordination? Fantastic. *Sip* It doesn't burn so bad the fourth time around. "You see!?" She all but shoves the datapad into Raim's face, in case he wasn't watching the GIANT screens that the platform is angled to face. "Jenni-va is to win!" Or at least is ahead of Tavers, so far, though she doesn't hold the association against Kadi or Morth. The other pilots? She hasn't a clue who they are. Umak echoes his mother, because that's just what you do, except instead of manhandling a datapad, he's shoving the mangled remains of some amphibious creature in poor Raim's face.
The race's course continues to spiral to the peek of Dacon Tower until the landing platforms and swimming pools of the high rise penthouses can be seen below the ships. The course then flattens out high above all buildings remaining in the Corellian District and darting back in the general direction of Lord Eebua's Starport. The course takes them at a slight downward grade so that when they pass by the Starport, the ships are low enough for the spectators to feel the wind off of them blowing across their faces and hair, to feel the exhaust heat blowing down on them.
Mynark Sabosen calls out joyously over the loudspeaker, "And in the lead we have the Hotbox, with the Parallax right on it's heels! Who will win!?"
Backing off the throttle a little bit, Rake actually manages to not look like a complete tool while circling Dacon towers, flying close enough to blow out a few windows on the upper floors. "We made it!" he exclaims, banking hard and maneuvering down the course, having succeeded in taking the shortest route.
SPECTATOR - Little Meep does the standard scrunchy-face and squirm as he is cleaned up. At least Sapphira isn't licking the napkins before she dabs at his fur. "Ni!" he exclaims, fussing as he gets cleaned up. He was a little upset that she threw away his candy but... he should be getting fresh stuff so that doesn't terribly bother him.
"SUCK A DICK, MYNARK!" Jehn hollers, adrenaline coursing through the pilot as she throttles their debaucherous murdership on the galaxy's most surprising plot twist. Star Wars: The Rolls Awaken. Even with a computer hiccup, they aren't doing too shabby and the gangly, awkward, failure of a woman laughs uproariously as they careen through the sky. "So /did/ you roll something for this?" It's the Hotbox, what did you expect? Nyla Forr heaves a groan of a sigh. "No! You know I can't roll for shit. And you can't... we're in a /race/," she attempts to explain logically to Jehn but... alas. She's distracted and the computer flickers and beeps, coupling Pickle the R2's annoyed chirping in the back. "I /know/, Pickle!" Nyla snaps and then focuses. "C'mon, Jehn. Just get to the damn finish line. I'm starting to feel sick.”
"I can see my house from here," Sar says, owning one of of the penthouses. The Old Man laughs for way longer than he probably should and Kicker flashes a new readout for Sar to look over. "Huh. Gonna have to use this one for my commute," he remarks, jerking back on a lever and swinging the wings back out. The added manueverability of the control surfaces allows Sar to make up some much-needed ground.
Morth can't resist. As the course takes them along and down low over Lord Eebua's Starport and the thousands of people gathered there in the hover-stands, the young Mon Cal sends the Parallax into a barrel roll as he sweeps overhead. "WWWHHHOOOOO!!!" he squeals as the ship turns ass-over-tea-kettle and fans far below point and cheer for them. "Looks like we are heading on the same course for this lap. Everyone just keep their eyes open and yell if you see anything that will help us or hurt us!”
"Just go faster!" Tarion yells back, in the seat next to Morth. They're pushing the Firespray for all it's got, really, and the twin thrusters in the back bleed a trail of fire across the sky. "Sirrup, is there anything you can do to make this thing put out any more thrust?" he shouts down to Kadi. Uh. Suuryet, he means.
SPECTATOR - Sapphira finally gets Meep to a point where she's willing to pick him up. And she does so just in time to feel the kick of the exhaust as the ships swoop by. The redhead gasps, staring agape at the Parallax hanging so close behind the leader, flipping for the fans. She can't contain herself. "Go Tare, Go!" she cheers, grinning enthusiastically. Not that Tarion is actually flying the ship, but that's neither here nor there.
And then the ships are past her. She looks to Meep beside her and smiles. "Let's get you that candy," she assures him, plucking up one of the datapads availble for spectators, setting it to the Parallax screen and walking, Meep still in one arm, to a concessions seller.
Kadi totally makes herself useful, as much as she can, even if she's not fixing things. Course assistance computed and shunted over to Morth, as she can. That's' just how she rolls. As Morth barrel rolls, she yelps, grabbing on to the grip bar with startled cussing under her breath. "Hey, you could warn me when you're going to do that," she grumbles. Of course, Tarion asks his question and she spares a glance and a listen to the ship, finally catching on to Tarion's little tricks. "More than you've already done?" she retorts, ignoring the sugary sound to her name. "Probably."
The course continues on in the same path as before, though in the time it took the ships to rocket between districts, new obstacles have been flown into position along the course. Huge rectangles of some mechanical nature are hovering left to right along the way, a sparkling field of energy filling the space in between. Computer readouts will flash errors of non lethal energy, though certainly detrimental to ship engines, and advise to steer clear of the energy panes if possible. Other than the added dangers, the course continues on the same path, weaving between huge ventilation pipes on the way through Ko Hentota, and then back toward the depths of the Duros Sector.
SPECTATOR - Meep gets hoisted up again, settling into his usual perch on Sapphira. "Oooooohh, chip chip?" he inquires at the prospect of candy. He hardly pays too too much attention to the ships, like most technology it's far beyond his understanding. The datapad does draw his attention, stubby little arms reaching for it, “Nnngh!!”
Maybe Rake had finally gotten the hang of this atmospheric flight thing, or maybe he had someone piloting remotely, but he was finally doing better. He weaves through the next part of the course with a bit of grace. "Take that, Yavok, you Corellian hack." he calls out over comms.
SPECTATOR - "Nah, Taverrrs..." Rheisa softly growls in response to the cheer she hears in the tightly packed crowd of the air-lifted stands. Her jeering is shortlived, though, because Umak's become full and is now thrusting a chuba leg into HER face. Obligingly, she chomps and downs the thing in three crunches of the jaw. Mmmm. *Sip*
"Damn you." Why they gotta be responsible, huh? Jehn is visibly pouting about the lack of mind altering substances as they hurtle ahead of Tarion's ship - but it's hard to be too down, because they're beating Tarion (and Morth and Kadi, but she likes those two a lot more than the one who owns the Firespray). "Okay, Pickle - gimme nav data, is there a quicker way through this? No, no - I don't speak beeboop - okay, would you - can I just -?" And this is why Nyla is the one who deals with the droids. "Yes, on the screens, /thank/ you." Pipes it is! The Hotbox zooms off the hard way, painfully aware of the encroaching Firespray at their rear. "Shoot Tarion in the ass when we get done with this, babe." She grumbles to her copilot, obviously still bitter about that damage her player keeps forgetting to code heal. "A cheek for a cheek - BACK OFF ASSHOLES!" Now that winning seems to be an actual reality, she's getting bitter about the proximity.
SPECTATOR - "Oh yes, thank you, do hold this," Sapphira says to Meep, letting him hold the data pad while she fishes for her chip in her pockets. It's the third pocket before she finds anything, buying Meep a fresh box of the candy of his choosing. She'll tear it open with her teeth, and hold the box open for the teek to take fistfulls from. She herself doesn't eat any now. Instead, she just finds the nearest seat and perches Meep on her lap, staring at the datapad in front of them. "Come on, kick it up a knotch will you?" the redhead grumbles, most likely in Meep's ear, as they watch.
SPECTATOR - "Oh yes, thank you, do hold this," Sapphira says to Meep, letting him hold the data pad while she fishes for her chip in her pockets. It's the third pocket before she finds anything, buying Meep a fresh box of the candy of his choosing. She'll tear it open with her teeth, and hold the box open for the teek to take fistfulls from. She herself doesn't eat any now. Instead, she just finds the nearest seat and perches Meep on her lap, staring at the datapad in front of them. "Come on, kick it up a knotch will you?" the redhead grumbles, most likely in Meep's ear, as they watch.
"Rude," Sar remarks to a dirty NPC pilot who cuts him off. He responds in kind with hand gestures of the unkind nature. The width of the ship continues to be an issue as the track begins to narrow. "Hold it together, Yavok.”
SPECTATOR - Meep is rather impatient, biting on the corner of the datapad in his hands until the candy is purchased and opened for him. He holds the datapad with one little hand, the other reaching into the packet for a handful of the little candies. He stuffs his mouth, chewing noisily. "Gunda." he says, stuffing in another handful before peering down at the datapad. He seems more interested in the flashing lights and sounds than the gritty details of the race.
Morth growls and then his voice chokes as he sees those looming walls of energy. "Uhmmm... Kadi?" he calls out uncertainly as they rapidly draw closer. He flips the Parallax back up on it's side and weaves through the walls of energy as tightly and quickly as he can, determined to not let the Hotbox get too far ahead of them. So intent is he on his goal, that he almost misses the huge exhaust pipe looming above and has to jerk the ship down quickly, narrowly avoiding an outright crash. He screams.
"We can do it, Fishman, just relax and focus," Tarion mutters, hands tight on the secondary yoke in case he has to take over. "Push it to the limit, we got this." Glancing over his shoulder at wherever Kadi's stationed in this topsy-turvy spacecraft, he calls, "Give her all she's got, Sirrup, we're running out of time. Four hundred /thousand,/ let's do this!”
SPECTATOR - "No no, don't eat that. Eat this," Sapphira encourages Meep, shaking the box of candy to draw the teek's attention to that instead of the data pad. And then her eyes return to the datapad. The Parallax draws closer to the exhaust pipe. Closer, closer, closer. "Get out of there!" the Tavers girl shouts at the datapad, squeezing and wrinkling the box of candy. Don't worry, Meep, you can still get your tiny hand in there. And then the ship misses the collision that was, to Sapphira's eyes, all but certain. She sighs heavily, closing her eyes in a calming moment. She swears beneath her breath. "I'm going to kill him myself," she growls.
SPECTATOR - The embroidered shawl whips about Rheisa's face as the ships swoop past and rocket back into the clouds for the next pass. Umak shrieks, lifted right off his seat...by Raim. The Chiss mounts the mini 'gruta on his shoulders to give the boy an added edge over other viewers. His adoptive mother almost spills her drink, startled by the sudden shift in bodies. Rheisa's on her way to making lightweights look like tough shit. And she knows it. Eyeing the liquid remaining in her cup with a low whine of trepidation, she swallows back the cottony feeling on her tongue. "Where is water?" she laments, but helps herself to another gulp anyway. Is not so disgusting now in flavor, after her tastebuds have all gone numb. The datapad almost slips out of hand, but she catches it between knees and readjusts her grip. Her eyes are sluggish in tracking the motion on screen, distracted by the delayed relay of mov't all 'round her.
Kadi's eyes widen as she spies the new obstacles that have been added. "Oh for - That's sneaky!" She glares at Tavers, and then says, "Whatever, Tripper." She might not be entirely happy with his missing her name again. There's a hint of growl to her voice, as she shunts the path through to Morth, heart in her throat as he manages to get them through, but not without a bit of a scare. Her hands fly along for a moment, taking a bit to try to shunt power to the engines. She has a couple tricks up her sleeves that Tripper might not know. Hopefully he doesn't learn them from Kadi. Don't try this at home, Kids.
SPECTATOR - Meep focuses on the candy more, datapad less. The shaking of the box certainly helps. He takes a few more mouthfuls, chews, swallows and then sort of just relaxes against Sapphira. He's somewhat slumped, patting what must be an achingly-full tummy. "Mmmphhh.... nnnh..." he groans happily, chin resting on his chest, idly looking at the screen but more or less just resting comfortably.
The course continues along on the same pitch black course lit by the glowing yellow markers as they sprint along at breakneck speed through the dark alleyways. The course should be familiar by now, and with that familiarity, they know when to expect the brightening and the sudden plunge back into the lit world of the Corellian Sector and the crowded traffic. More of the energy fields have been put into place here as they rocket along toward Dacon Tower, and all crews know one thing. There is a corkscrew spiral to the top of that tower, and then an all out sprint to the finish. It is now or never.
"What are we seeing on the screens?" Jehn hollers back at her makeshift little family unit. "Gimme numbers, guys." The pilot is hunched forward over her console, those pointless goggles she wears reflecting the flashes of lights as they speed by. Okay, she's got numbers, she's doing some math in her head and then... "Hold onto your tits, girls!" Three switches are flipped, awarding the Hotbox with a low, steady thrumming - she punches down on a lever, diverting engine power to flood them with an extra, final boost of speed. "YOOOOOOOOOOO!" The pilot whoops excitedly as Nyla, Crona, Pickle, Jehn, and the Hotbox race toward the finish, weaving dramatically through the obstacles with the single minded determination of a total fuckup tasting victory.
SPECTATOR - "He can still win, Meep," Sapphira says, not seeming to realize that Meep doesn't give a flying fortress about the race compared to the box of candy that the creature is gorging himself on. In a natural gesture, Sapphira rubs the hand wrapped around Meep up and down the creature's belly while she watches. She chews hard on her lower lip thoughtfully as she watches the screen still in Meep's hand.
Morth is trying. SO. HARD. His hands are wrapped tightly around the flight yokes, the pressure building in the poor teen as he swerves between the force fields and the sight of Dacon Tower looms above. It is all crushing in on the poor Mon Cal, and try as he might, the Hotbox is just so fast and its pilot either damn good or damn lucky and there is nothing he can do to keep the ship from pulling away.
Kadi doesn't spend much time on Tarion's request, instead focusing on the piloting help she's providing. "C'mon, Morth, you can do it," she mutters. "Hang in there, and remember to breathe." She pauses briefly, numbers flying in front of her. "And keep your eyes open. I'm sure that's gotta be important in piloting, just like in shooting a blaster."
The ships spiral around Dacon Tower in much the same manner as before and as they reach the peak, a brilliant sunset is seen in the direction of Lord Eebua's Starport. The way is completely open, and the ending a flat out sprint to the finish with the Hotbox in the lead.
SPECTATOR - Meep peers down at the datapad resting atop his tummy. He turns it from side to side, unsure of whether he's holding it upside down or right side up. He lets out a biiiiig yawn, showing off those large buckteeth of his before he re-settles, peering down at the flashing screen.
SPECTATOR - "No Meep, like this," Sapphira encourages, showing the small creature how to hold it so that they can watch the end of the race. The redhead sinks her teeth into her lower lip again, allowing Meep to eat himself sick on candy if he likes. So close, so close. Not as close as before, and as the Parallax starts to draw back, Sapphira sighs in displeasure. "Thrust, damn you!"
Up, up, up, twirl, twirl... The Hotbox is earning her keep, occupants shouting, howling, and beeping with the pressure and excitement of this taste of success. "C'mon, baby." Jehn is growling into the yokes, hunched over them with her arms stuck straight out, leaning all the power into the ship she can muster. "/C'mon./" They're ahead - she can see the Firespray losing ground (sky?) behind them, gaining it back, and then... "W- holy /shit/." The stoner ship piloted by the formerly homeless, a grubby mechanic, a grumpy R2 unit, and a canine wearing goggles just surpassed all expectations. "Holy shit." Jehn repeats.
SPECTATOR - Green-flecked, purple irises are GLUED to the datapad now, instead of the big screen, as the pilots race for the finish. Rheisa chants something monotonously quiet under her breath as they near the finish, hands clutching the little machine like it's a lifeline. Does Rheisa really give a hoot about starships and the breathtaking speeds at which they can soar? No. Absolutely not. She does, however, believe that those too cocky for their own good need to be humbled a notch or so, so watching Taver's ship get stuck at least a /little/ bit behind the current lead - Hotbox - is a touch gratifying. Also, the booze is talking.
The tension builds, up and up and up and up and up...until Hotbox crosses the 'line', fractions of a second ahead of the rest. A note of victory erupts from her chest like a warcry. Maybe it is? Raim is even jostled out of his relative quiet by the noise and responds in turn with an appropriately aimed frown. Not that she's alone in the drunken stupor. The majority of this hovering stadium-seated crowd is ripped beyond believe and shouting their own cheers/jeers.
SPECTATOR - Meep has at least eaten himself sleepy. The datapad rises and falls in time with his chest as he breathes. He does seem to appreciate that the datapad is helping to warm him up a little, like a cat sitting on a charger machine, the teek may have found a new body warming device!
Morth nods his head, forcing himself to breath, but it is a rapid inhale and exhale of short rapid breaths as he guides the ship up and up and higher, peaking at the top of Dacon Tower and jamming the flight yokes forward as hard as he can so as to force the ship to dive. The engines roar, the ship shuddering from the power being diverted from other vital systems to the engines. He is gaining on the Hotbox, or rather it isn't getting any further away from him, as the ship responds to his wishes. It is just too little too late and as Jehn'iva rockets across the finish line, Morth is a touch behind her. He exhales slowly, falling back into his seat and staring glumy through the view port. "Sorry guys," he says, voice choking.
SPECTATOR - Sapphira sighs, letting out a held breath. "Damn," she sighs. "What an amazing race," she has to admit, speaking to Meep; until she realizes that the creature is asleep. And she can't help but smile to him then, looking fondly at the adorable creature. "Meep," Sapphira whispers, shaking the small creature. "Meep. Where do you live? I'll take you home." Since he's drunk on sugar, by all appearances. "I'll carry you home," she promises.
"Krif," Tarion breathes as they come in... second. The hunter leans back in the copilot seat, relaxing visibly and flicking a few switches, pressing a few buttons, taking control of the craft from Morth. "It's alright, Fishman, we'll get 'em next time," he promises, spiraling the ship back around the head for the post-race landing pad where they'll be feted with wine, women, and song. And a man for Kadi.
Kadi has a man, thank you! She's a married woman. She too has to get her breathing back to normal, and she also helps reset systems to normal as the race is over. "Morth, nice flying," she says. "That - wow. Well done. And yes - I know, but dang, you did good. And this is only the beginning, isn't it? Hang in there - I think we can definitely get them next time." Did she just agree with Tavers? Wonders will never cease.
SPECTATOR - Meep stirs, one foot twitching and then the other as his eyes open. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, then he's being asked questions! Reaching into a pocket, he takes out a little card, showing it to Sapphira. The card displays the name of the Park in the Entertainment district... seems Meep lives in the park.
SPECTATOR - The park? Well that won't do. "Nevermind," Sapphira says, tucking the card back into Meep's vest pocket. "You'll stay with me and my family tonight," she assures the teek. "I'm not leaving you in a park drunk on sugar." Assuming that Meep doesn't spend every night in a park like this. She moves to stand, setting the datapad aside. Meep is held against Sapphira's shoulder, and she pauses to look over at where the ships are landing. She sighs gently. "I'm sure they won't want us bothering them for their party anyway," she mutters to Meep, turning then to try to find the way out.
SPECTATOR - And Meep's dozing against Sapphira's shoulder, all tuckered out from the excitement of the day and the large amount of candy he's ingested, like carrying a rather large teddy bear around by now.
SPECTATOR - It's not sugar that's done Rheisa in. She's a touch unsteady in standing when Raim does to to lead the charge out of the stands...slowly behind at least 132 other people after it touches back to ground level. The 'not hers' cup is empty now, but still held loosely between fingers, carted along like a souvenier. Or maybe she just doesn't want to join the rest of the horde in littering. The contents more than doubled her typical yearly intake, for sure. Fermented milk just isn't that potent...or commonly served. Anyway, Raim's got TWO bodies to look after now, as they make their exit. The little boy perched atop his shoulders and the young woman leaning at unnatural angles as she walks. Or stands. Or anything. One pupil's more dilated than the other - that alone spells trouble. Or good fortune! If he were still an in-tact male.
