Log:Rebellion: The Tightening Noose
The Tightening Noose
OOC Date: March 29, 2025
Location: Hapes Cluster
Participants: Aitax Rendon, Ben Relor, Ben Solo, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Hadrix Kora, Igoz Shaxar, Jaq'n Greayf, Prism, and Vega
...continued from: https://www.swaoa-mush.com/wiki/Log:Rebellion:_Blockade_Run:_Hapes
| Ship Type | Ship Name | Crew |
|---|---|---|
| T-65c X-Wing Starfighter | RED FIVE | Ben Solo |
| YT-1300 Freighter | ELEGANT CORSAIR | Igoz Shaxar |
| T-70 X-Wing Starfighter | RED TWO | Ben Relor |
| Delta-7 Aethersprite Interceptor | SABER TWO | Vega |
| T-70 X-Wing Starfighter | SABER SEVEN | Jaq'n Greayf |
| GS-100 Salvage Freighter | MERCY NINE | Bizz Bliptettjupp, Prism |
| Firespray-31 Patrol Craft | WRAITH SIX | Hadrix Kora |
| Hapan Nova-Class Battle Cruiser | FIREDRAKE | Ducha of Gallinore |
| Miy'til Starfighter | SCEPTER 3 | Unknown Female Pilot |
A week had passed since the bold effort to run an Imperial blockade into the Hapes Star Cluster. In the process of that attempt, while skirting the fluctuating edge of a dangerously unstable gravity well all while under heavy fire, the convoy had been divided, with a handful of ships forced to escape back the way they'd come, while others- including four freighters- had made it to Daruvvia. There, they'd made contact with a nascent resistance movement in the occupied Lorelli Reach, and taken aboard several Force-sensitive Hapan mystics before the inevitable Sith repressions could capture them. The seeds of ongoing resistance were planted.
Alas, the subsequent week had not been kind to the Hapan cause; the queen was murdered, political schisms emerged as factions vied for the throne, and the stalwart navy of the Royal Guard was divided, trapped, and defeated at Sargon II. Imperial forces swept through the cluster, occupying Hapes Prime and installing their Hapan ally as a puppet monarch. Not every system in the cluster had surrendered yet, but it was only a matter of time.
In the aftermath of the Battle at Sargon II, while the Sith fleet consolidated control of the Hapan Core worlds, the rebel-aligned smugglers and pilots made a dash for the Rynmar Trail; a hyperspace lane that represented the last stable course of escape to the Hapan Spine route that would let them escape the confines of the Transitory Mists. They had cut it close, but looked to have gotten out in front of the Imperial pickets. The navigation beacons were already broadcasting Sith signals, and the warships would not be far behind. Red 5 had gathered a squad of reinforcements on the outside of the Transitory Mists, ready to jump back into the dragon nest if the escaping smugglers found themselves in need of support, but getting out of the cluster in all haste was the wisest course of action.
That wisest course of action was complicated by a distress signal.
The Ducha of Gallinore had been the strongest rival to the new Sith-backed Queen of Hapes, a fact which made her both a symbol and a target. With the fall of Hapes Prime and the long Hapan tradition of assassination, the Ducha and her loyalists preferred exile to execution and also sought to escape the star cluster. The new regime preferred execution.
Two squadrons had caught up with the fleeing Ducha at the very brink of Rynmar Trail, and the situation was dire: the sleek and predatory profile of a Hapan Nova-class cruiser was floating dark in the void, all systems crippled by a magpulse missile, with swathes of its beautiful silvered hull scored and gashed by torpedoes and cannons. Only three Miy'til fighters remained of its once-formidable complement, trying in desperate vain to hold back six times their number from delivering a killing blow; a full squadron of 12 TIEs led by a deadly Silencer and brace of Daggers was strafing the wounded Nova, while six collaborator Miy'tils attacked their loyalist cousins.
Brother Bizz in the VISCACHA, known as MERCY-NINE by its false transponder, had unloaded his cargo of foodstuffs, chickens, torpedoes, and military equipment on Daruvvia for the resistance and picked up a gaggled of Force-sensitive mystics and others at risk from the Sith Eternal. Unfortunately one is a little Daruvvian girl who liked an Endorian chicken so much that she insisted it come with them, and named it Queen Chickie'chume because of its crown of feathers (like a Polish hen) and imperious manner. The girl is wandering around the bridge chicken-in-arms when the hyperdrive deactivation alert starts chirping. "Go and strap in please, we are exiting hyperspace!" His crewman Su'nil hurries the girl off down a corridor, and Bizz pushes forward the hyperdrive switch. He hopes the encrypted holo-message he sent about the rendezvous coordinates made it out of the transitory mists of the Hapes Cluster.
The initial run into the Hapes Cluster found the Elegant Corsair laden with weapons, ammunition, and other tactical gear intended for the formation of an underground resistance against potential Imperial occupation. Unfortunately that occupation has been initiated and the need for those supplies were well-founded. Captain Igoz Shaxar certainly isn't in it for the politics, because credits are often more reliable than any politician's word. The last week he's been engaging in a number of missions and staying just ahead of the possibility of his ship being identified or captured. It's during his planned run to escape the Cluster and make for the outer rim that a distress signal is received and Igoz shares a sideward glance with his human co-pilot. "Might be a reward," he declares casually and with a mild shrug as the ship weaves its way through the wreckage of a past battle. Another battle was unfolding and it provided a good distraction for the Elegant Corsair to slip on through the various pickets and patrols that have come up since Imperial dominance in the system has been established.
A rebuttal to his comment earns another mild shrug and an equally casual smile as the Falleen lifts a hand to scoop the wide-brimmed hat from his head, just to toss it into one of the passenger seats behind his own velvety pilot's chair and plush arm rests, "Sure, there may not be a reward, but the real bounty is in the bragging rights". He pauses a moment and a grin flourishes across the Falleen's emerald hued features, "Besides it's me that'll have to rustle up the credits for a day paint job, transponder slicing, and cashing in some favors to get a new ident on the ship confirmed. You just have to be the best co-pilot a guy could want," Igoz explains to his co-pilot with a wickedly wide grin as though that will surely offer all the assurance necessary to get a buy-in on the rescue effort.
Does one bring an elite cadre of snubfighters out into the Transitory Mists to follow the path of least resistance to a smooth extraction? Well, Ben Solo doesn't.
Artoo runs down a final systems diagnostic without even being asked as the distress call illuminates the Ronin's cockpit. << "Red Flight, lock computers to my coordinates. We're counting down an intercept vector." >> Expertly, at that-- the cooordinates that Solo calculates are a precision ingress, almost right on top of the engaged Hapan convoy.
<< "Hapan Nova-- we are en route to assist. We'll make you a window, get clear as fast as you can." >> You have no authority here, Solo!!! might be one's first impulse-- but directive or polite suggestion, there aren't a lot of good options in this scenario -but- to trust the Rebel flight's goodwill.
<< "Lock s-foils in attack positions; coordinate your fire as wingman pairs." >> Red Five, in this case serving as Red Leader, does just this as its quad laser cannons align along attack configuration-- and R2's dome swirls a full, nervous three-sixty perusal of space around them.
The week had been hard...and it probably would get harder. Vega's not complaining though, because this was absolutely part of the descriptions that ran under being one of the 'good' guys. Though she hears her comms come alive with Ronin's orders and there is a bit of a curious look as she glances at Sky, "Back to work." she tells the round droid. Vega's no stranger to following in a group, <<Acknowledged, Ronin.>> the Echani states as the coordinates are input and she waits for the jump!
Jumping in with Ben Solo is the other Ben -- the Relor kind -- who's traded his ARC for a T-70 this time. Now that he's officially cleared for starfighter duty, he even looks the part: flight suit, helmet, HUD flickering green. Go fig.
<< "Copy that, Red Leader. Let's make a mess.">>
Behind him, his astromech, Five chirps a sharp bwoooop-eee-ooop that sounds both smug and anxious.
"Cool your thrusters, Five. I'm running the checks."
Another warble -- absolutely judgmental.
"I /know/ I could've brought the ARC. This keeps it simple, yeah?" He flicks weapon toggles -- lasers armed, torpedoes on standby -- as the navicomputer pings Solo's intercept vector. Right into the thick of it.
S-foils lock with a satisfying clunk.
"Now quit your yappin' and let me fly."
Prism is currently riding in one of the freighters and lingering in the cargo bays where the ships come in and out. She is wearing her covert armor in full and is leaning against the hull of the bay as she waits for the next ship that needs to be quickly repaired before flying back out to deal with the current mission.
Jaq'n Greayf takes a deep breath as hyperspace peels away, and the cockpit lights up with warning signals and overlapping transponder chatter. Jaq?n leans into the view, eyes flicking across the mess ahead, the drifting Nova-class cruiser, scattered fighters, and TIEs already swarming like a kicked nest. He whistles low under his breath, fingers adjusting on the controls with a mix of anticipation and unease. << "Looks like we?re right on time," >> he says over comms, voice steady but quick. His S-foils lock into attack position with a mechanical clunk, and his astromech lets out a short, sharp trill. "Yeah, I see it," he mutters, half to himself. << "Dropping in behind Red Leader. Let?s see how this shakes out." >>
The Hapan Nova cruiser continued to drift dark and silent, the only flashes of light resulting when a trio of TIE fighters strafe its battered bulk. The remainder of the TIE squadron had peeled off after their leader to engage the incoming rebellion craft. The Miy'til dogfight grinds on, with another of the remaining loyalist craft destroyed.
Bizz pulls his plodding salvage freighter up alongside the disabled Nova-class cruiser. Mag-grapplers shoot out and attach the freighter's ventral airlock to the cruiser's airlock. He taps into the internal comms. "<<This is Brother Bizz of Mercy-Nine! We are friendly! Do not shoot me when I board you!>>" The squat Ugnaught grabs his engineering toolkit on the way to the airlock. "Where is that rebel girl? Tell her to meet me at the airlock with tools!" He leaves his twin Zabrak crewmen and droid to keep the ship docked and shooting.
An agreement is reached aboard the Elegant Corsair between its captain and designated co-pilot. The pair of gunners slumbering in their wells? They didn't care either way. They got paid to hold down the triggers or they didn't. Once the agreement is reached though the freighter banks hard to alters its course. No longer is it escape from the Cluster that the Elegant Corsair seeks, but the possibility of reward and reputation. The YT-1300 freighter ponderously dips and weaves its way through the long debris field and around a portion of what was once a Battle Dragon's hull; now torn asunder by some absent assailants unfathomably heavy turbolasers. Across the tactical comms of his ship Igoz speaks, addressing both the co-pilot at his side, the gunners in the turret wells, and even the pair of droids going about their duties, "We'll be engaging hard and fast. Viscacha's out there if my sensors are right and others emerging from hyperspace, so be ready to offer support fire and keep them off the people we're trying to get to reward us," he says of the stricken Nova cruiser.
The ship breaks from the thickest part of the debris field with its shields withstanding the smaller bits of mechanical corpses that the battlefield consists. The Elegant Corsair arrives just as the Viscacha itself is heading in for docking maneuvers. It's that sight that causes Igoz to fire a broadcast at the Viscacha, though he's smart enough to maintain some semblance of communications security, "Mercy, this is Outlandish. Advise if their hangar bay is available for retrieval operations. We'll engage with fighters outside until advised."
The communication between the Elegant Corsair and Viscacha cuts off. This leaves the freighter's pilot, Captain Igoz Shaxar, to focus his efforts to dancing throughout the swirling chaos that is a starship battle. The screech of the turrets can be heard within the ship as the pair of quad lasers begin opening up, peppering Imperial fighters with their deadly lances. All the while Igoz himself is laying into the fire control of the ion cannon that's available to him. It spits and spats its thick beams of blue energy at the TIEs at each opportunity an Imperial fighter fills the forward viewport of the freighter's cockpit.
As the fighters drop out of hyperspace and the battle escalates... bad goes swiftly to worse as ionisation crackles over the hull of the Hapan battlecruiser-- and it languishes, listing in space. Bizz's repair and evacuation service is already on the job-- and Solo's initial target is to draw the attention of the strike leader in the Silencer. A familiar, formidable fighter indeed.
Weaving onto and across the TIE's aft, Ronin bursts his X-Wing's lasers in a sudden, nigh-simultaneous surge, hammering into the opposing shields in a moment of crossover before rolling off into a sharp climb as the wingleader seeks to return the favor, emerald lasers answering crimson as the infamous X-Wing all but floats a pirhouette through the danger.
<< "Keep them off that cruiser; make them dance our steps." >> Ronin encourages, engines burning brilliant red as his X-Wing accelerates out of a figure-eight and back in at the strikecraft.
"Straight to the fighting. Just what we're good at." Vega's tells Sky as she drops out of the jump and locks onto one of the TIE fighters that are trying to punch through the hull of the Hapan ship. She takes a shot at one, but misses and in the process two of them fire on her, but she manages to maneuver the Aethersprite out of the way of the shots. That ship was going to need a mechanic...and sadly she couldn't help in the middle of space. But there was hope yet out there!
<<"Copy that, Red Leader. Dance lessons it is." >> Relor mutters, banking hard to cut off one of the Daggers.
The HUD in his T-70 flashes: Dagger-class Interceptor locked. That's the target while Solo and Vega run their own chaos. He narrows in -- eyes narrowing too -- and squeezes the trigger. Quad lasers cut loose, searing through space.
But the Dagger jukes hard, slipping the shot.
"Kriff," he mutters. "Fly straight, you coward!"
Then Five screeches a warning as the proximity alert blares. Relor yanks the stick, throwing the ship into a barrel roll as red streaks of enemy fire tear past -- from the same Dagger.
His jaw clenches, hands white-knuckled on the controls -- then he laughs, dry and slightly unhinged. "You missed too? What is this, amateur hour?"
Five bweeeeee-ooops in a tone that could only be called smug.
"Don't start with me, Five," Relor snaps. "I need all the help I can get."
Prism jumps a bit as she feels the whole ship shake, thankfully her helmet hides the apparent fear echoing on her face and she does her best to try and remain as calm as possivle as she hears from pressure seals being enacted. She runs towards where the airlock is to handle the repairs, better to keep mind busy so she can ignore her fear right now.
Jaq'n Greayf bears down on one of the Daggers, lining up the shot as he races toward it. He fires, just wide. A sharp breath escapes as he banks hard to the right, adjusting too late to land the hit. The Dagger isn?t so forgiving. A burst of return fire streaks past, close, too close. His instincts flare and he jerks the controls just in time, the shot skimming where his fighter had been only a heartbeat before.
Surging into the area from the mists, the old Firespray-31 kicks the nebular dust around it into wild corkscrews in its wake. Having been dealing with the locals, the sith, who knows - but the patrol craft was nearing where TIEs were attacking. Panels sliding open to allow for weapons to extend, the veritable bouquet of rotary cannons beginning to spin up as the craft approaches.
<<"Wraith Six, on site. Engaging. Call if you require a wing.">>
Gauntleted hands moving over controls, adjusting throttle and tapping a display read to make sure that the power to weapons is displaying correctly.
<"Lets hope those repairs hold, Gripper...">
The interior of the Nova cruiser is dark in a way wholly unnatural for the Hapan species. The emergency lighting was blue in hue, and a finished crew was overwhelmed with the myriad repairs needed. Life support, engines, hyperdrive, shields, and weapons were all ionized. The dark corridors smelled of burnt circuitry, ozone, and spilled blood.
Brother Bizz hustles into the Hapan cruiser as fast as his short legs can carry him. He points Prism down toward engineering. "Get the engines back on-line, then the hyperdrive motivator!" The Ugnaught holy man grabs a random Hapan technician. "You! Get in contact with the Ducha of Gallynor! Tell her we are with the Rebel Alliance. If we cannot get the engines up, she must evacuate! Patch her through to my unit." While hustling up to the life support substation he activates a salvaged Fabritech PAC20 Visual Wrist Comm unit on his bracer, filtering the communication back through his ship's functional communication array. Anyone with a secure visual communicator in their ship gets an eye-full of his left nostril as he struggles to get the life support back on-line. Lucky ones just get the verbal comm. "<<Fleet, keep the TIEs off the Hapan cruiser, we are working on the engines!>>"
The air starts to smell less like burnt ozone in the Hapan ship, so maybe he succeeded. "Whoever invented Magpulse..."
Jaq'n Greayf makes a sharp turn, looping back to pursue the Dagger again. He lines up another shot and fires, missing again. Frustration flickers, but he stays with it, adjusting his angle and staying on the fighter?s tail, determined not to let it slip away a second time.
The Elegant Corsair sweeps around with its quad turrets shrieking and spitting at the TIEs pursuing it. The broad turn brings the freighter back around the Nova cruiser in order to make an attack run on the three fighters harrying the larger cruiser. "Keep up the fire, we want to draw them away from that cruiser," he calls into his headset. The broadcast from Brother Bizz results in a frown from Igoz, but he answers it with an acknowledgment, "Trying to get the fighter's attention now, Mercy".
Igoz's focus turns back to the engagement and the freighter begins to twist about, rolling and juking to avoid incoming fire as the Elegant Corsair wheels around for another pass on those TIEs continuing to harass the Nova cruiser.
In this case, Solo means less 'ballroom' and more 'violent, psychosexual tango'. Flowing back into the wake of the Silencer as its skilled pilot executes a roll and angled vertical climb of their own, Ronin stays inexorably in pursuit for a moment-- then another-- then a flash of crimson laser cannons sever one of the interceptor's panel arrays from its hull, spiralling off in a flash of light and igniting atmosphere.
The TIE/DG pursuing Relor is the next in line, and the Ronin comes into this craft's space inverted, pulsing the quartet of X-Wing lasers once, then twice in quick succession as Artoo shifts power from rear deflectors to the s-foils cooling the weapons, pushing more juice to the swift, tenacious barrage.
It leaves the heavier interceptor in a perfect position for That Other Ben, Our Own Hapan to finish off even as the pilot attempts to disengage... and Solo breaks to surge in towards the listing Nova-class and its dwindling escort as the status of allied craft scrolls down his computer display across the cockpit's HUD.
"Hey watch the paint job!" Vega shouts as she manages to spin the Aethersprite out of a much bigger collision with the explosives. "Sky, we're just flirting with these guys, we gotta tighten it up." she tells the BB unit that is with her. If a droid could roll it's eyes, Sky was doing /exactly/ that at the moment.
The Dagger on his tail gets lit up before Relor can shake it -- Solo's X-wing streaking in from above like a damn holodrama hero, tearing through the interceptor's shields.
"Of course," Relor mutters, deadpan. "Ben Solo to the rescue. Again."
The Dagger veers off, sparking and wobbling. Relor's already on its ass. <<"I had it handled, Red Leader. Red Two--">> That's him, grateful for the chance to not have to use his hated callsign, 'Hapan,' today. <<"Re-engaging." >>
Throttle forward. Laser cannons hot. No flair, no hesitation -- he blows the thing out of the sky. It bursts into flame and scrap, spiraling into the void.
He lets out a sharp exhale. "/My/ kill," he says, glaring through the canopy like someone's keeping score.
Five chirps a snarky comment.
"Don't start. He wingmans me one time and now it's going in the memoirs." A pause. "No, I'm not gonna thank him. I finished it."
Another chirp.
"Fine. I'll send him a fruit basket."
Prism runs towards the engineering room as Bizz directs her and slides on the floor to the engine, she begins to work diligently to try and repair the engine, getting a good start but she accidentally drops her wrench, "Grok... just my luck..." she grumbles as she has to somewhat climb down in to grab her wrench from the bottom of the engine's hull and slowly is drawing herself back out to make sure she doesn't undo the repairs she was able to manage to make so far.
Jaq'n Greayf pushes after the Dagger, sticking close, maybe too close. The enemy fighter suddenly cuts upward in a tight climb, flipping into a sharp loop. Jaq?n tries to follow, but the maneuver puts the Dagger behind him just long enough to take the shot. His X-wing jolts violently as the blast connects, warning lights flaring across the console. <<I'm hit, shields at 20.>> He grits his teeth and pulls hard into a roll, trying to shake the tail.
"I thought you said you fixed the power relays!"
Cannon barrels glowing bright and gears complaining, sending a wailing sound through the control cabin, Heiyuu wailing and warbling a response that gets Hadrix leaning to look down at the droid through the visor of his helmet before slapping the side of a console that is, inaccurately, reading weapon systems still in the green.
All had worked well to start, the cannons had chewed into the solar wing of a TIE chasing one of the freighters, causing it to deform and break free before the ball fuselage itself erupted in the detonation of one of its ion engines.
"Don't give me excuses, just kriffing FIX. IT. this time!"
Al'Verde Kora continues to try and give chase, for now at least, to give the impression he is still hunting and not trying to get his blasted cannons operating.
Through comms, the Ducha of Gallinore begins to insist that she will not abandon her ship and the last of her loyal household. She will, however, immediately order her daughter and heir to board the mystery freighter flown by the strange little alien who can't manage to speak correctly. Several bodyguards hasten the young noble toward the Gallofree salvage craft as another vicious pass of emerald cannons wrack the cruiser's battered frame. A dangerous metallic groan lingers in the air for several seconds after the strafing run. Life support is back online, for however long it may matter.
Bizz mutters to himself at the Ducha of Gallinore's response. "An heir?" The ship rocks with impacts from laser cannons. He picks up his tool box and runs to the engine room, pointing at the Hapans milling about. "Get to work on the engines! Where is the hyperdrive?!" He goes to where they point and proceeds to de-polarize the Thorsen field driver. Using his Fabritech PAC20 Visual Wrist Comm he broadcasts again to the smuggler fleet, "<<The Hapan ship is taking fire! What's going on out there?! The hyperdrive is almost back up, we need more time! Tell that Solo kid to get off his arse!>>"
The YT-1300 continues to roll and angle itself for loops around the Hapan's Nova cruiser. He's leading at least one remaining TIE on a merry chase around the ship, while the quad turrets and at rather particular moments the forward-facing ion cannon spits at a potential target. For the moment the ship continues to spew lancets of death from the quad laser cannons, but unfortunately they fail to offer any notable impact on the attacking Imperial fasters. "Tighten it up and let's get paid. We need the Hapan ship intact if we want a reward people," he calmly remarks to those aboard the Elegant Corsair and tapped into the tactical comm headsets.
Weaving across the wake of Igoz's YT-1300, Red Five surges into an afterburning strike.
The TIE fighter tries to hold to its objective, but downed shields become a split hull as crimson bolts lance from the X-Wing. The Ronin comes up off the Nova's starboard side as its engines begin to show signs of life, daring a half a smile across his intensely focused visage.
<< "Roger that-- keep the remaining TIEs occupied while that ship calculates a vector out of this mess. The Miy'til's are about to become another problem." >> And so it is that the pair of TIE/LNs and the swarm of Hapans reducing the battlecruiser's own escort to so much spaceborne shrapnel become Solo's top priorities-- at least so long as the rest of their squadron's shields hold in turn.
<<I'm just keeping these guys distracted so we've got one less firing on the Hapan ship.>> Vega states over the comms. Was she upset that she wasn't hitting? Nah. Was she going to have a strong word with herself after this? YES. She can't really call on the Force to help with this. They don't do combat pilot training on the fly.
Jaq'n Greayf switches his focus to the Ties that are strafing the ship. Hoping the Dagger doesn't chase him down, he zeros in on the nearest one, his shot going wild.. "Karking. asdf #$@" he shouts many explitives but manages to keep his frustration in check.
Relor catches the second Dagger lining up on Jaq and cuts in fast -- cannons flaring as he burns its shields down to near nothing. << "Red Two, Dagger's on the run. Shields at ten." >>
He banks to loop around -- only to catch a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.
"Sh--!"
The Dagger swings back hard and tags him -- his X-wing rattling as shields flare and drop.
Five screams a warbling alarm.
"I /know/ it hit us, thank you!" Relor snaps, wrenching the stick to stabilize. "Guess that one's still got teeth."
Prism ends up hitting her head as she is coming out and winces, mildly hissing as she feels that throbbing on the back of her head. She will take a moment before she is able to try and refocus on what she needs to do to fix the engine. Her wrench rested down on her lap for a moment as she rubs her eyes to stop seeing double for the moment before picking up her wrench once more to assess what she needs to fix to get this engine fully operational again.
The chugging and grinding becomes the hum of power distribution coils engaging properly and the patrol craft's fusillade of cannons open up anew, smashing against another TIE's shields, keeping up a continuous stream that hammers away until they become almost opaque,
<"Anyone else, priority should be the craft attacking the escort target...">
Hadrix's craft banks port to keep from smashing into the beleaguered TIE, cannons punching craters into armor plating as he swings around to make another pass, eyes narrowing while he surveys the damage done to the enemy fighter.
"Bloody hell..."
A pair of TIEs are still in pursuit of the elusive Aethersprite, the remaining Dagger has turned about and laid a pair of heavy cannons into Relor's shields, and the remaining trio of Line TIE fighters are focusing their cannons on the badly stricken Nova, seeking to make the cruiser's wounds mortal. A single loyalist Miy'til remains of the outmatched trio that had heroically engaged the half dozen Collaborators that otherwise surely would have finished off the Ducha's cruiser. The Ducha's heir has been escorted aboard the Gallofree salvager by her guards, as the prolonged pummeling continues to hammer the durable- but dying- Nova. Time is running out.
Bizz moves from the hyperdrive motivator to the engine room to assist Prism. "The problem is these Hapans stole hyperdrives from KDY and engines from Sorosuub! Nothing matches! Hapan industrial espionage is the worst! If they join the Rebellion, we can get them Mon Calamari shields, and..." The fat monk is busy re-initializing the turbonic venturi power assimilator on the engines. "This is Republic Era crap!" Finally, the engines flicker on. He speaks into his Fabritech wrist comm. "<<Princess Gallynore, get to hyperspace now!>>"
Bizz jerks his thumb toward the corridor, saying to Prism, "We gotta get out here!" The Ugnaught picks up his tools and it is a sweaty sprint to the airlock. To the smuggler fleet he broadcasts as he runs, "<<We got *HUFF* the engines *HUFF* back on-line! Clear us a hyperspace *WHEEZE* vector!>>"
The Elegant Corsair suddenly levels off after performing a series if weaving lists to the left and right, attempting to disrupt the accuracy of pursuit tucked into the rear of the freighter. The pursuing TIE having broken away, Igoz commits to a new path. He continues in a wide loop around the Nova while the quad turrets continuing fire, screeching and sputtering death at those Imperial fighters nimbly dancing along the surface of the disabled Hapan cruiser. Meanwhile the cockpit of the YT-1300 settles onto the more distant dance playing out by the remaining Miy'til fighters. One of those fighters may very well find their cockpit alighting with a lock indicator and an annoyingly screeching lock tone. Igoz comments aside to his co-pilot at that point, "We'll either force one to break off out of fear or his bravery will result in something jamming hard into his engines".
The call out from Brother Bizz causes Igoz to lean forward and crane his neck, attempting to get a visual look at the Nova cruiser as its systems are coming online and it's propulsion is reportedly restored. "We need to clear out these TIEs fast," the Falleen comments to the human woman seated in the co-pilots chair.
Clear them out fast: an excellent idea. Unfortunately, someone needs to let the desperately agile remaining TIEs know about that optimal trajectory.
As the shields on one TIE take a hit from the YT-1300, Solo is swift to capitalize, a quartet of crimson removing those deflectors and carving an angry char into the craft's solar-paneled hull. << "We'll cover you as long as we can, Nova." >>
It won't prompt astrogation to go faster-- but every promise of assurance, every pinprick of hope can make all the difference at a moment like this. A swift spiral swings Ronin around said battlecruiser and back up along its vertical approach, realigning to pursue the TIE/LNs still determinedly plinking away at the beleaguered Hapan vessel.
At this point Vega is just trying her best not to get the Hapan's blown to smithereens and she is hoping that the TIE doesn't blow up her Aethersprite. It was a vicious cycle. The Echani is tired of the skirting past each other in some sort of weird dance and wants to shoot a hole in something!
<< "Red Two taking a shot at one of the LNs -- hold your applause." >>
Relor fires -- a clean burst, dead-on -- and the TIE pirouettes out of the way like it's got something to prove.
<< "Alright, who gave this one dance lessons?" >>
Five lets out a skeptical beep.
<< "No, I /was/ leading the target, thanks. Maybe it's just allergic to dying." >>
Before he can loop around for another pass, the damaged Dagger from earlier comes screaming back into the fray -- and hits. Hard. Shields collapse in a single brutal burst, and hull integrity alarms flare.
"Son of a mudscuffer!"
Five screeches something shrill and panicked.
<< "Yeah, I noticed! Light hull damage, no shields, and we're still dancing. Great day!" >>
A beat.<< "Fantastic. A TIE with flair. Just what I needed today." >>
Prism was still dealing with the pain of hitting her head, she moves her hand to glance at it before she quickly digs into her pocked and grabs a hankerchief to place on the back to stop the bleeding she did, seems she did more damage than she realized and scoots back to like Bizz take over for the engine fixing, her eyes studying his movements as he brings the engine back to life.
Jaq'n Greayf 's focus remains on the TIEs strafing the crippled Nova. Lining up the shot, correcting for movement, and squeezes the trigger, this time the shot lands clean across the TIE?s wing assembly. The fighter shudders and veers off course, but it doesn?t go down. "Come on..." he mutters, adjusting his angle to stay on it. Still flying, but not for long, he hopes.
Rotating on axis as he comes about, Hadrix's visor is turned towards one of the TIEs being bracketed and focused in the compressed three-sixty sensor read in his HUD. <<"Brother Bizz, I suggest you hurry, yes?">> Cannons still spinning and then spitting fire in a spiraling stream to box in the fighter being targeted by Jaq'n.
Heiyuu's wailings continue, voicing the readouts being provided to the Boar-Wolf of Ealor, earning a grunt and a bitten out, <"Yes, I'm aware."> another trilling and warble of bleats being answered with, <"No, the job is get them out or avenge them...">
The TIE's shields drop and then armor plates shift from the black paint the Empire prefers to shining metal under the extreme heat of coherent energy fire, pushing concave here the impacts land and ripping at the corners where the cold vacuum can assert its wishes on the weakened structure. Leveling out focuses the fire and a rent is gouged along the forward viewscreen, vaporizing the pilot with it and sending the fighter whirling out of control into the void of eternity.
Much of the Ducha of Gallinore's ship remains dark, though now it is for damage to the hull rather than ionization. Shields and weapons remain offline, but the blue glow of several engines flaring to life (many others were shot out before the magpulse impact) suggests there is life still remaining in the crippled cruiser. It begins to rotate in place, weathering more fire while waiting for the salvage freight on its belly to detach before jumping out. The sight of glowing engines on the cruiser had an immediate effect on the half dozen Collaborator Miy'tils swarming around their last wounded rival, as the Modan fighters- seeing their target about to escape- race to intercept it, cannons spewing.
But no cannons can outrun hyperspace. Ship to ship comms remain offline as the Nova cruiser streaks out of real space, leaving a glittering dust of silver hull fragments in its wake. The last Hapan ship in system- the solitary Miy'til transmits to the rebel craft in a weary, raw feminine voice, <<"Whoever you are.. thank you.">>
At 10,000 kilometers, a Nebulon K frigate has arrived.
Bizz makes it back to his cockpit where his crew of former orphans and a droid are disconnecting their ship from the Hapan cruiser. "Get the princess to a jump seat! She's not a princess? Then what is she?" Bizz flips a switch and the mag-grapplers disconnect with cable snapping sounds. "<<Miy'til fighter, I am sending you our hyperspace coordinates. The Rebellion will protect you. The Hapans will need help defeating the Siths.>>" His unwieldy ship rumbles as engines engage, moving toward the hyperspace route to the Perlemian and beyond. The quad turret still fires, providing cover.
He's a smuggler, not a fighter pilot or revolutionary. Which means the moment that the Hapan ships are rescued and building up to hyperspeed, the Elegant Corsair begins doing the same. The cannons continue firing and the concussion missile let loose a moment ago continues to chase after its target. "Easy money," Igoz comments to his co-pilot with a grin cast from the right side of his face. Then Igoz turns his attention to the comms shared among the disparate smuggler and rebel ships, "Cargo's secure and Hapans are saved. We're withdrawing and will relay details for cargo pick-up".
Did he just call refugees cargo?
The Elegant Corsair disappears a moment later.
<< "Squadron, transfer power to shields and get clear-- I'm going to make a window for our Hapan friend." >> That last, poor, solitary Miy'til.
In towards the Imperial-aligned Hapan fighters the Ronin spins, carving a path of laser-fire more through the space than any particular craft, recklessly drawing fire at himself. << "You'll want to hit that rendevous now, Hapan fighter-- we'll keep egress open as long as possible." >> Which is probably longer than the snubfighter's armor is going to hold up under any other choice but retreat, granted.
Solo doesn't quite form up around the damaged friendly, but he does fly a skillful, sharp circuit around her, intent on drawing as much of their ire as possible in the passing moments it will take for the Hapan's navicomp to parse the data being transmitted to it. Only in the wake of other hyperdrives spinning up, once his allies begin to burn sky and see lines, does Ronin turn his own attention from evasive action to escape.
"Alright Artoo-- line us up, it's time to go home." This prompts much mechanized fanfare.
Vega's been trying to keep the TIE at bay and it worked. And thankfully there were other pilots around because she'd apparently lost the ability to shoot like one. Though her ears perk when Solo is on the comms, <<We'll stay and cover then jump out.>> she tells Saber Leader. And when it is time to go...she goes!
<< "Red Two staying in. Someone's gotta keep Red Leader from turning this into a funeral." >> A beat. <<"Granted, it might just end up being mine.">> Ben Relor grits his teeth as they dive in again. "You know the drill, Five. Guns hot, no heroic speeches."
Five beeps something along the lines of: /I wouldn't dare around you./
<<"We came in loud, Red Leader. May as well go out the same way.">>
And when it's time, he'll make the jump.
Prism lets the others handle getting the Hapan Ducha to safe and whoever else, she is heading over to the medics to get her mild headwound looked at to make sure she doesn't need stitches or staples. It is probably a small scratch that one doesn't really need to even have looked at but its her first time hitting her head that hard and rather be safe than sorry. Her helmet held in her hand as she disappears to the med bay.
With the Hapan ship getting out, the need to stick around longer has diminished considerably. Watching as the Outsiders all compete to play 'hero' the Mandalorian behind the controls of the Firespray turns to spin out and away from the furball - tapping keys to have the guns retract and dump the power saved by their disarming into shields and engine power.
<<"Wraith Six, mission complete. Jumping for lightspeed. Hapan, this was a Starfighter op - will be looking to see your report hit desks at base...">> Giving a little reminder of the younger man's new duties as a member of the SFC.
Quite pleased this wasn't a special ops job.
And then he is moving, pushing the hyperdrive lever as the calculations finish processing, Hadrix's patrol craft elongating in a flicker of pseudo-motion before disappearing into Hyperspace.
Jaq'n Greayf does his best to keep up with Solo, assisting where he can. <<Got your back Red Leader.>> he comms as he navigates his x-wing near the pack.
