Log:That Maneuver at Taanab

A Hit and Run attack on Taanab by the Rebels.

OOC Date: April 7, 2025
Location: Taanab
Participants: Chewbacca, Braiden Solo Raan Vren, Ben Relor, Roan as Commander Kallus, Axyl Lucayon, Xrenon Riiff, Prism, Cin'cirad Rook and Hadrix Kora as GM

<"Hard and fast, like Crait for those who were there."> The drop ship was hovering and the ramp down as Hadrix was issuing the orders <"For now it's peacekeeping and army forces, but they'll scramble stormtroopers once we do enough damage.">

The U-Wing was barely fitting in the street chosen for the insertion point, at a warehouse district between the city proper and the starport, several picked out and identified as holding Imperial equipment and another as a barracks building converted from storage. People were running from the landing zone, where turret fire had churned up duracrete to put the need to be elsewhere firmly in mind,

<"Rockets and thrown ordnance, if you're throwing. Hit as many of their ground troops as you can and keep moving. Three blocks, south, that's the rendezvous. If we don't make it in time, that's our ride gone until we get another window. If we can't make pickup, we melt into the city and work guerilla until we can get another pickup."> A grunt as the massive wookiee rifle he carries is shouldered, <<"Remember. Do damage. Move. Keep mobile.">

Soldiers in the crimson uniforms and blast vests of the peacekeeper forces were already heading for the area with black BDU clad regular army hot on their heels. Little time for the insurgent forces to get clear, because the moment they're all offloaded, the transport ship is boosting to avoid potential anti-vehicle responses.

<<Copy that, Commander.>> Yeah, Ben Relor was there last time. And the time before that. Glutton for punishment. Or hero. Whichever came first. <<"You don't have to tell me twice to blow people up.">> He grins around the cigarette inevitably hanging from his lips, then flicked it away in a lazy arc before crouching to check the satchel strapped to his chest. Explosives. Lots of them. Comforting, in a way.

The U-Wing hit the street hard, wedging between crumbling warehouses and the shadow of the starport. Ben stands, tugging his gloves tighter, and gives the air a long inhale.

"Red vests, black BDUs. All lining up to die on time," he mutters. Five chirps nervously behind him. "Yeah, yeah. Minimal collateral. You might wanna stay here, buddy." Ben readies himself -- but he's already smiling. This is his idea of a good time.

Chewie is here to help. This is the kind of thing he's very good at. And he dragged Braiden along. He says it's for the kid's own good. To show him the kind of things that he and his dad used to get up to. Though it's entirely possible that Qi'ra slipped Chewbacca some credits to get the kid out of the house.

The Wookiee, as Hadrix gives his final briefing, is finishing his check on his Bowcaster, making sure everything is in working order. "Just like the old days," he rumbles as the ship lands, the ramp lowering. "C'mon, kid. Let's get to work."

Chewie rises, ducking to compensate for his height, and trots down the ramp, a huge target for the incoming soldiers.

This is what happens when one is in deep space far too long. Xrenon has decided to join a ground attack. He actually had assumed he'd have been able to pull off close ground support from the air or be the crazy one flying into the hot LZ's. Incorrect, it turns out! At least his JBL is loaded and ready to go. Or rather was ready least once he draws it from his pilot's survival holster. Xrenon is mildly hampered by his Calamarian build, and has to adjust the ill-fitting helmet to his armor to ensure his comms will at least work propertly. <<"Copy. Keep moving.">> Xrenon will do just that, but by running cover to cover. He has a large head after all.

speaker. Turning the rifle a bit to the side to check the amount of ammunition still in the magazine before righting it. Her head turning to look around at the others on the U-wing. She tucks the stock into her shoulder, and a last look at the status readout on the jetpack as she lets her knees stay loose while engaging the magnetized boots for a moment.

<"He-e-e-re we go."> The landing, the back opening, and she runs out with the boots disengaging the moment she takes the first step. A jog after the others as she looks, head checking up and about as the other seem more interested in the street. She definitely doesn't plan on sticking around, and that's what the jetpack is for anyway.

<"Any targets of note we should be keeping an eye out for?"> The repeater gets trained toward the rooftops for the moment.

"Well that's ridiculous," Imperial Garrison Commander Kassandra Kallus laughed, in response to incoming reports. "Who would attack in a single shuttle?"

Then explosions rattle the fine table settings of the Governor's Mansion and Kommander Kallus is immediately on her feet, looking shocked. "The.. The utter cheek!" The Governor babbles something asinine and Kallus cuts the portly man off. "Silence!" She touches the bud in her ear. "Report! Report! ...Deploy the Garrison, call in all reserves. And get a message out before they can jam it!"

The Kommander storms out, pulling her Imperial cap on angrily.

Prism was lingering towards the back, awaiting her orders, she had her slicer gear on her and her guns. She does pull out her pistols, just in case she has to do some fire fight instead of slicer work today. She makes she to keep her cover for the time being in her covert armor.

<"Shock and awe, hit and fade."> Axyl confirms. The Shistavanen clad in heavy Mandalorian armor may not have been on Crait, but he remains a student of each engagement he hears about; and has no shortage of exposure to -adjacent- threatening scenarios.

A heavy blaster in one armored hand, with each occupied by suspiciously armed Mandalorian bracers, Lucayon joins the deployment and takes up cover-- and an advantageous firing position-- off one flank from the boarding ramp, his helmet's scanners and the Shistamandalorian's own senses quickly surveying the situation-- and tracking targets of opportunity.

Braiden had served 3 years in CorSec as a pilot. He'd gone through all kinds of crappy training, and it made this not an entirely foreign experience to him. what WAS foreign to him, was caring about the Rebellion. In his life span, there had been a lot of attempts at rebellion, and he'd heard the stories of them all being stamped out with a ruthless efficiency. Why would this one be any different?

With a glower on his face, and a dirty look sent over to Chewbacca, Braiden pulled the collar of his jacket a little closer around his neck, and muttered something under his breath. "there's not enough credits in the galaxy to explain why I'm here..." And he wasn't lying. He wasn't here for any other reason, than Chewbacca personally asked him to be. He felt some kinship to the Wookiee, and he couldn't even explain why. He'd joked lately, that Chewie had some kind of mind control power, because everyone seemed to like him, and everyone seemed to do what he asked of them, which wasn't alot... but this might change that.

When Chewie rose, and everyone else too, Braiden grimaced, and moved to join. "I swear, if I end up in a bacta tank, I'm gonna be pretty cross with you." He called after the Wookiee, his scruffy hair whipping in the wind that came in through the ship's open hatch.

"Commander, we're not picking up more than shuttles - they have several moving. Reserves are being contacted."

"Commander, shall I hail the garrison picket?" The comms officer looking upwards as if directly to one of the cruisers in orbit.

At the impromptu landing sight the U-Wing has gone, buzzing low over the street as it heads towards the dust-off sight. Calls for hands to be raised and weapons to be thrown down come - yes there had been shots fired by the U-Wing; a moment to avoid violence despite the expressions of some knowing it was a forgone conclusion. Rifles raised but a moment of hesitation is earned to allow the Rebels a chance to act.

HUD and datapad indicators light up, to show the way the troops need to move - through the warehouse district and in the direction of a construction sight several blocks down.

<<"Move out! Iviin'yc'nyn, ba'slan shev'la"> Hadrix called over comms, left hand raising to swing two fingers over his head in a tight circle, <<"Weapons free.">>

Civilians were clearing out, at least, leaving the peacekeeper and army forces with one less thing to worry about.

As soon as the window opens? Ben doesn't wait for a second invite. Moving almost as fast as a skinny guy like him can run, he pops the pin on a frag and sends it skimming low across the street like a stone over water.

"Catch."

The explosion rocks the line -- four uniforms crumpling in the dust, one screaming, the others too quiet to tell.

Smoke. Shouts. Chaos. That was more like it.

He is already moving, ducking low and fast toward cover. "Weapons free," he mutters, half to the comm, half to himself. "Good. Let's make it expensive." And he can't help if he's grinning even wider now. Few things bring him more joy than causing Imps pain.

As soon as the window opens? Ben doesn't wait for a second invite. Moving almost as fast as a skinny guy like him can run, he pops the pin on a frag and sends it skimming low across the street like a stone over water.

"Catch."

The explosion rocks the line -- four uniforms crumpling in the dust, one screaming, the others too quiet to tell.

Smoke. Shouts. Chaos. That was more like it.

He is already moving, ducking low and fast toward cover. "Weapons free," he mutters, half to the comm, half to himself. "Good. Let's make it expensive." And he can't help if he's grinning even wider now. Few things bring him more joy than causing Imps pain.

Raan moves quick and low through the chaos, pistols still silent in his hands. No shots yet as he's watching, picking his spot. Blasterfire lights up the street behind him, but he cuts across an alley mouth, keeping tight to the side of a broken wall, boots skidding slightly on loose gravel.

<<"Moving up the right flank,">> he calls into comms, his voice steady through his helmet. <<"Holding fire, looking for a better angle. I'll light 'em up when I've got clean lines.">> He slides behind a fallen crate near the edge of a loading dock, the elevation giving him a slightly better field of view into the warehouse line ahead. His visor tracks friendlies fanning out: Sira rising with jetpack, Axyl taking position, Ben already throwing frags.

Chewie laughs at Braiden's mutterings. "Fine, I'll call your half-brother to come heal you with the Force," the Wookiee says as he sets into an easy, loping run. It almost seems like he wants to brachiate, but there are clearly no trees here for him to do that in.

Instead, he just keeps running along the appropriate path, ducking down behind some crates for a second before he pops up to snap off a shot with his Bowcaster. The hit is hard in center mass, and the Peacekeeper goes flying from his feet in a heap.

Being on the ground is for the INSANE!! Xrenon had been on the ground for all of 0.75 seconds before that thought hit his brain with the screaming arrival of an out of control freighter. Xrenon has the time to realize this planet feels real dry and hot, or at least this is what his lungs tell him. He's not winded fully yet, but this is a lot of running for a Naval Captain. Why couldn't they be next to a canal for him to swim rapidly through?!

Focus. Xrenon needs to focus, and that involves not speaking unnecessarily on comms. Just running. He's fired twice at the army before he realizes he has done it! Revision! Focus on running and gunning!

Sira keeps here eyes open for any possible targets of opportunity as she engages the rocketpack, keeping it fairly low to the ground as she doesn't want to be popping up over the rooftops. The repeater tucked into her shoulder still as she keeps her head moving. The slight twist of her body to curl away from Relor as she sees him tossing a grenade, the curve back up the other way as she sees Raan moving.

Her targets were the ones in crimson armor, more than those in BDUs, as she seems them starting to gather up.

Turning off the jetpack for the moment, she lands on the armored shins, sliding along the ground before she comes to a stop next to what looks like supplies destined for the construction site they're headed for. Or perhaps just destined for a warehouse. Leaning to the side around it, the repeater lets out the telltale bark of noise as the slugs are sent toward one of the nearby Troopers.

The first few shots miss, but the next couple bursts as she squeeze the trigger hit the Trooper in the breastplate. The Crimson armor now leaking yet more of a similar color. <"Well, guess that's one good reason for wearing crimson I suppose."> She turns her head, checking the status of the others. <<"Call out if you need help, or see anything you need help to blow up.">>

Commander Kassandra Kallus storms out of the Governor's mansion, her black warcloak billowing with its red velvet interior revealed by the wind. "Yes contact the picket," Kallus snarls. "Warn them NOT to allow the shuttles to escape, or they *will* be explaining to the Empress Herself how the Rebels snuck in under their noses." On a different channel: "Lieutenant Commander Dalin, do we have ANY heavy equipment on hand? I don't care if you have to have a bulk hauler drop farming equipment on top of them!"

Prism was a bit distracted as she was trying to run with those who are moving into position. She however, trips due to that distraction as she is more looking around than in front of her. She really should pay more attention, otherwise she wouldn't be getting a helmet full of floor, she quickly pulls herself back up to her feet and continues to move after those, moving to take cover once she has caught up.

With a carefully, one might even say hesitantly pulsed ignition, Lucayon criss-crosses Cin'cirad's approach across the team's course cutting south.

As Axyl ascends, also careful to stay floating beneath the skyline, several Imperial army soldiers are identified and flagged by his T-visored helm's sensors, confirmed with a glance of a golden Shistavanen eye within, and fired upon with heavy crimson bolts. Sadly, these go wide. This is not the way.

With a resounding THRUMMMB the Shistamandalorian lands hard in a three-point crouch on a terrace overlooking the front of the assault, above the explosions, with a firing line to cover their onslaught and the target of opportunity represented by that cargo. This -is- the Way.

"Where are you even going?!" Briaden shouted after the lumbering hairy giant that was leading him along on this wild mission. His boots stomped on the ground, carrying the relatively tall Human along after said Wookiee, but as he tried to keep up with the thing, he shouted further up ahead at him. "Slow down, your legs are like twice as long as mine!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, when he heard Chewie's bowcaster go off, and with a determined look crossing his features, Braiden caught movement out of the corner of his eye, off to Chewie's left side. With a flash of a hand down to his right thigh holster, the Corellian drew fast, the silver barrel coming up to aim down sights at the Imperial armored soldier.

Blast, echo. Sparks everywhere! The trooper is down, shot in the head.

"Yeah, right..." Braiden said, breathing heavily, as he held his pistol aimed up, coming up beside the Wookiee again. "Call the man who murdered my dead, to heal me. Let me get right on that..." He sarcastically fired back, even though he'd never dare say that to Ben Solo's face. He grimaced again, and glanced down to the datapad in his other hand, looking at the information that was streaming to it. With blasters going off all around them, explosives detonating, the young man just shook his head. "I have a real good feeling about all of this, just so you know."

<<"Commander we will begin re-angling, but it will take time.">> Comes the response from the garrison craft in orbit - crews moving with sudden expedience when the order comes through. A Lancer class moving at flank speed with the intention of getting onto an intercept vector. Picket ships shifting to enter a blockade pattern.

The wookiee cannon carried by Hadrix belches fire as a plasma sheathed durasteel bolt punches through one of the crimson armored troops, their body reacting in a near delay - flying backwards a second after the blast tears through. Hadrix keeps moving forward, his flight bucking under the recoil of the long gun and a second shot smashing into the ground near another Imperial troop, spewing shattered duracrete into the air.

<<"I'm routing a patrol walker, it is en route.">> Another voice responding to requests for heavy assistance, from the Imperial command offices, <<"It will be there shortly.">>

Not far off the clatter and rattle of an Imperial Walker shifting its direction raises the screech of steel on stone. The steady chunk and hum of servos growing closer before the boxy, black painted, form of an Sith Scout Walker looms into view - chin guns swinging and cheek cannons swiveling into firing position as it closes distance.

Seeing the walker looming ahead of them, Ben leers. "I /hate/ these bastards," he mutters to himself. That's probably why he chucks an ion grenade with full confidence and absolutely zero caution, with the intention of somehow, somehow! Lobbing the thing through the AT-ST's viewport.

The grenade clips the edge of the viewport, bounces off the durasteel frame--

-- and bounces back.

"Oh, kriff me."

He dives just as it explodes mid-air, frying the HUD in his visor and knocking him on his ass with a sizzle of blue static. His ears ring. His everything rings.

From inside the walker: muffled yelling. Still operational.

"Well," Ben coughs, "that could've gone better." No one saw that, right? He's got a rep to protect! Yeah, that's it...

A bolt slices through the haze and slams hard into Raan's right side, just beneath the chestplate's edge. The impact spins him halfway around before he drops to a knee behind cover with a pained grunt. <<"Hit,">> he bites out, his voice sharp through the comms. <<"Armor held, but it got through. Still moving.">> The burn beneath the plates flares hot, but not enough to slow him down.

He pushes off the crate and dashes forward while ducking low and weaving through the smoke and scattered debris, boots hammering over cracked stone and ferrocrete. Just ahead he spots a low rooftop with a crumbling overhang. Elevated sightline and solid cover. Perfect. He kicks off a half-sunken pipe to boost himself up, grunting over the edge and ducking low against the wall.

From his new vantage, he scans the street below, visor sweeping across Peacekeeper and Army positions. <<"In position. Looking for targets.">> His breathing is controlled, focused, one pistol braced, the other sweeping to track movement.

Chewie slows his gait a bit as Braiden complains. "Blame your mother, Han could always keep up," he lies. Sometimes it's fun being the fuzzy old uncle who doesn't give a single kriff.

Well, maybe he gives a little kriff.

Chewie ducks down, old instincts and reflexes honed after decades of war fighting, the blaster bolts slinging his way zipping over his head as he finds another nice crate to duck behind. He mutters something uncouth, lifting a little to brace the Bowcaster on the crate. He pulls the trigger, the plasma sheathed metal rod launching from the weapon and punching through a red armored trooper in his central mass. He goes flying too.

"Maybe I am getting too old for this poodoo."

Explosions! Blaster Fire! Chaos! Bedlam! Xrenon is inventing new Mon Calamari curse words as he has to run in a random pattern so he doesn't catch a blaster bolt to that large dome of his. Join the Rebellion they said, it will be fun they said! The Naval Captain doesn't have time to think beyond barely subdued panic and wordless Mon Calamarian accented yelling from time to time.

At least Xrenon was capable reflexively firing at the army, wounding one and barely missing another. Maybe everyone is going to be safe, and they're all going to have a great time!

Suddenly. Walker.

At hearing the walker, Sira turns her head to see the AT-ST rounding the corner, <"Well... Welcoming party alright."> She pivots about where she's crouched next to the construction supplies, her knee pointed out in the direction of the walker as the augmented reality of her helmet starts marking the targets on the AT-ST. With a specific movement of her eyes, the three rockets shoot off in quick succession. One after the other, and each one of them hitting the AT-ST. <<"Anyone got some plans for that AT-ST?">>

The black marks on the black paint more or less look like it got dirt on the knee joint of one and up near where it is attached to the cab with the other two. The armor holding off all the damage from taking affect. <"Ahh hell."> She pivots again and with another burst of speed shoots off further toward where they're going to (hopefully) exfiltrate from using her jetpack to put on the speed.

Kassandra Kallus looks pleased as the AT-ST strides into the battle in the distance. The black-haired, black-eyed noblewoman's personal guard finally catch up to her, and one hands her a sword while another places a blaster rifle in her other hand. A personal shield is affixed to her wrist, and lightweight battlearmor snaps onto her chest and back, under the cloak.

Commander Kallus is still walking while all of this takes place, and she soon as vambraces, greaves, and a dueling mask on, thanks to her entourage of troopers. The sword is flourished and sheathed, the rifle readied. She's...actually a little scary looking, for those old enough to remember figures such as Moff Gideon.

Prism manages to catch up to everyone and takes out her pistol. She does her best to try and aim at one of those in the imperial army, but she completely misses the mark, it ends up somewhere off in a wall not anywhere near she was aim. She takes in a slow, deep breath to the try and refocus herself as she moves back behind some cover.

With no one bogged down or cut off, and the AT-ST tromping its way through the streets? Best to keep mobile. Lucayon launches off the balcony with a smooth but sharp ignition of his suit's heavy jets, a bracer-garbed fist thrusting out, interconnected with his armor's sensors as a swift beam of crimson cleaves through an army trooper's helmet-- both sides of said helmet-- in a fiery pulse.

As the Shistamandalorian is forced to consider extreme, insane measure to deal with the walker-- or risk everyone sprinting beyond it-- Hadrix's heavy ordnance strikes truer than their prior efforts, and Axyl smiles darkly within his helm, coming down in a dust-strewn shockwave behind another of the rapidly assembling 'entrenched' positions.

With Chewbacca rushing toward cover, Braiden was right there with him. He could hear those dreadful sounds of AT ST footfalls upon the ground, and with it a sudden dread filled him. "You call this a good time?" Braiden scowled, a second before a blaster bolt sizzled against his shoulder, and dropped him back against a stone pylon that had been beaten to Hell and back by random blaster bolts. He felt the pain, having been shot previously in his days with CorSec. He grunted heavily, and spun around, his blaster coming up to fire off three quick shots, all of them going in random directions, since his vision was blurred. He dropped back down to his backside, and slid his pistol in to its holster, while his other hand reached for his belt. With a grunt, he pulled the personal deflector shield out, and brushed a thumb over its surface...

"Next time, we go to Zeltros." The young Solo said, as he turned to look back toward his combat partner in crime here.

Nearing the rendezvous, closer but still threateningly far away - the rebel strike team is cutting a swath down the street as blaster bolts fly and Imperial Armed Forces are either wounded or cut down by the deluge of fire passing back and forth. The peacekeeping forces forced to take cover or chase after the rebel forces that are charging through and past their midst.

A single missile, spiraling out after Sira's knee rockets smashes into the side of the walker, chipping paint and denting armor before drawing its attention to the flying figure, chin guns opening up in a distinct 'TEH-TOO! TEH-TOO-TEH-TOO!' of cannon fire.

<"Kriff."> Uttered as Hadrix kills his jets and drops when fire is angled his way, hitting the ground in a spark spraying roll, coming up into a dead run with smoke trailing from the missile port of his jetpack.

Ahead there is dust kicking up as the U-Wing buzzes past the location, a voice over comms coming in, <<"Strike team, we're getting ready to drop for dustoff, ramp will be down and if you're not aboard by the counter-ding, you'll be down for longer, over.">>

The AT-ST's chin cannons rake fire across the street as the strike team presss forward, but Ben has already broken off, weaving through debris like a man possessed. He doesn't look at the U-Wing overhead. Doesn't check the countdown. Doesn't karking care.

<<"Going off-script. Climbing the leg. Gonna plant a little surprise in the knee joint.">> His voice crackles over comms, low and clipped but unmistakably amused. <<"If I miss the ride, tell the pilot to circle back after the fireworks.">>

Then he was on the walker.

Fingers find purchase on the struts and ridges, boots scraping for hold as he hauls himself upward, hand over hand. The leg joint looms...he swings his satchel forward, pulls out an IED he'd wired together earlier -- three charges, one shaped, all ready to do some serious damage. His hands move fast, practiced, precise even as the walker lurchs and fires. Cables threaded, magnets set, timer synced to his datapad.

Click. Lock. Done. The charge was in place.

He slaps the metal once -- affectionate, almost. "Stay right there, sweetheart."

Blaster fire lights up the street below as the U-Wing screams overhead, dust and smoke kicking up in its wake. Raan doesn't hesitate. He drops from the rooftop in a practiced roll that jars his bruised ribs, then breaks into a sprint the second his boots hit the pavement. <<"Moving to the ramp,">> he clips over comms, voice short with exertion. The armor's biting at the wound beneath, but he keeps pushing forward, head low and strides wide.

Chewie grumbles, ducking back before he makes his next sprint. Just in time to see Braiden get pegged. "Yeah. Zeltros. They'll shove me in a pool, then the Falcon will smell like wet Wookiee for months," he grumbles.

He doesn't say no, though.

He hefts his Bowcaster, ready to take a shot, popping up, taking aim. Getting shot. In the shoulder, almost the neck. He roars in pain, dropping back, slinging the Bowcaster back. "Alright. Time to go. Run Junior, I'll cover you."

Except he doesn't. Not really. When he goes to sprint, the pick up zone in sight, he spots Ben clinging to the walker, setting up some Device. "Kriffing kids," he growls. He breaks into a run, loping across the ground, ducking the scattered blaster fire. "You should have just run, what part of hit and run involves setting charges?!"

With seemingly effortless ease, he reaches up as he runs by, grabbing Ben by the arm and pulling him down onto his back, resuming his run to the dropzone.

"Getting too old for this poodoo."

There is way too much going on, even with someone that has massive eyeballs to keep up with. Xrenon is just focused on breathing, running, and not collapsing. Additionally not getting shot or stepped on. His sole focus in that ramp, the glorious ramp ahead that means his Naval self can stop running! More of the Army appears in his sight, and they are a distraction from safety! So one is shot, the other is missed so badly Xrenon does not even register where the shot is. He's too busy trying to breathe, he practically finishes like a marathon runner, leaning in for a ribbon not there so he can belly flop into safety on the deck of the ship.

<<"Don't die doing the dumb.">> Sira says flatly as Relor says he's going to do a surprise with an IED into the kneejoint of the AT-ST. <<"I do not want to fill out that paperwork.">> She lands, turning back to look at Relor for a moment. She takes the second to watch what he's up to and then the walking carpet grabs Relor by the arm and hoists him up and then puts him on his back.

<"Well.. Small favors on that one."> She sighs and turns, shooting off again on the jetpack when one of the Troopers below shoots a flurry of bolts at her. One of them catching hard in the breast plate before being deflect off and grazing her shoulder. But it was enough to foul up her flight, causing her to veer and scrape across one of the duracrete buildings. Righting herself back down the way, she doesn't have a chance to take any shots.

<<"How's the LZ look, Raan?">>

"Run kid, I'll cover you." That's what Chewie was saying as a smiling Kassandra Kallus watched him through the scope of her Dragonslayer 01. "Well, well, well..." the Garrison Commander says to herself as she allows the droid mind inside the scope to work. "Goodbye, Chewbacca. You will make a fantastic rug..."

• TEE-TOH*

The same heavy green bolts that emerged from the AT-ST's chin mount now launch from the long barrel of Kassandra's rifle... And miss. "What?!" she exclaims, wide-eyed as she rips the scope down from her sight. She is practically shaking with rage, "That's... That's impossible!!" She turns to the dumbfounded troopers. "KILL THEM! KILL ALL OF THEM!"

Prism goes to start running but instead of actually trying to get free and keep running, decides she rather try and shoot one of them again. She aims and manages to hit this time, quickly ducking behind some cover one the hit is visually confirmed. She gets ready to try and catch up with the others.

From out of the dust-storm of his landing, Lucayon surges into the nearest trooper as a razor-edged vibro-dagger extends from his vambrace, carving through a gap in the man's armor in sure, short order. A glance is spared for Relor's ascent-- and furred escape-- and then the Shistavanen twists fully into the clinch.

One of the trooper's arms is locked to the Shistamandalorian, twined forcibly with his own, and the dagger /twisted/ sharply free along a horizontal trajectory as both beings rocket into the airspace above the street. A crimson rain spreading out along the path towards their exfil transport precedes rather unusual weather conditions, as that army trooper is abruptly dropped, screaming, to the duracrete below.

<"They're everywhere!"> Unlike a screaming Grunt from another 'verse, Axyl's assessment of the situation is a growled interplay of exultation and wrath.

"Jeesh!" Braiden uttered, when he saw Chewbacca's shoulder tagged from over the cover. "Alright, we've had enoughh fun for today. this isn't my damn rebellion, I didn't sign up for this!" He grouses, as he pushes himself up to his feet, and thumbs the personal shield deflector, knowing full well he could trigger it at any second, but then he'd be locked out of any return fire...

"We're leaving!" He called out, as he looked back behind him to see Chewbacca immediately distracted. "Chewie! Let them go! This is their fight, not ours!" He called out, even though he knew the Wookiee had some hard-to-explain connection to the Rebel fight, one that he did not share with his late father, why would he? He had his own problems in life.

When someone took a shot at Chewie, though, even through the blurr of the seering pain he felt in his right arm, Braiden quickly drew his blaster and capped off three more shots, nearly draining the six-shooter pistol, and sadly missing all three to cover and just poor aim through pain.

"Forget it..." He growled, as he slid his blaster away, thumbed the shield on, and began to make his departure.

<"No time to get left behind."> Hadrix's voice rumbles through the helmet vocalizer as he charges up behind Prism with a heavy, repeating 'thud Thud THud THUd THUD' of iron shod boots and the whine of blaster fire bouncing off of armor, drawing a grunt from him, when the big man gets an arm around the smaller woman and then lifts off with her in tow, tucked in one arm like he was carrying a child, hurled for the dustoff on wings of fire.

Ahead, the U-Wing practically drops out of the sky, held aloft on its repulsors before it can slam into the duracrete, ramp shooting out sparks on its own impact and door gunners begin firing, trying to provide covering fire for the team as they approach. Another figure, deeper in to keep from blocking the ramp waving their arm and shouting,

"Hurry up! Hurry up! Get aboard!"

Fire from the AT-ST, its leg joint having small issues with the foreign objects jammed into it - one leg dragging as it tries to get a firing solution on the rebels - main guns firing on the U-Wing itself, blackening durasteel and slagging armor plates. Fire chases after the rebels as they run or fly, with the way home in clear view.

Relor didn't run from the AT-ST...he climbed it, kissed it, and left a gift in its knee. But before he could even think about jumping clear, he was yanked! Suddenly, Chewbacca had him under one arm like a sack of volatile potatoes.

"Hey--! This is karkin' undignified!" Ben protests, voice half-choked by wind and smoke as the Wookiee sprints toward the U-Wing, bolts shrieking overhead. His datapad buzzes in his palm. The charge was armed. Still synced.

Ben grins like a man who just remembered what kind of bastard he is. <<"Package delivered. Lighting the candle.">>

He thumbs the detonator.

Behind them, the AT-ST's right leg detonates at the joint with a screaming WHUUMP, the shaped charge punching through armor like it owes him money. The walker staggers, one leg half-dragging, guns firing wildly as it tries and fails to compensate.

Ben whoops, upside down in Chewbacca's arm. "That's what you get, you fascist trash can!"

If they live through this, he's buying the Wookiee a drink. Or a whole bar.

<<"LZ is hot but clear enough,">> Raan clips into comms as he rounds the final corner, half-limping from the earlier shot but still moving fast. <<"Ramp's coming down now. We've got cover fire.">> His tone's tight, breath controlled, pushing through the ache under his armor. Dust kicks up around him as the U-Wing's repulsors blast the street, the ramp metal screeching into place like a lifeline slamming down.

A crimson-armored soldier steps into view near the edge of the landing zone and Raan doesn't break stride. One of his pistols snaps up mid-run, squeezing off a shot that sears the air just over the soldier's shoulder. <"Kriff,"> he mutters under his breath as the bolt punches into a wall behind. No time to fix it. He vaults over a downed barricade and skids up the ramp, shoulder slamming into the bulkhead as he turns and braces to cover the next in.

Chewie doesn't shoot. He's got his uninjured armful of Ben. He's tall and rangy, so his loping strides across the ground are, honestly, smoother than you'd think. It's still a bumpy ride though. Especially when he sees the U-Wing drop low, and he bursts into a sprint to get there, looking over his shoulder for Braiden, making sure he's keeping up. He's already hurt, but he knows who to call for this. Faster than Bacta, cheaper too.

And maybe Qi'ra won't find out.

Chewie makes the last bound into the transport, leaping aboard, landing on the ramp and ducking inside before he sets Ben down onto his feet.

"I think I am getting to old for this."

Already having flopped inside for safety. Xrenon forces himself to get up. He's in shape, it's just Mon Calamari Naval Officer Shape. His amber eyes are rolling around wildly as he tries to shake off the exertion. Clambering forwards he's throwing himself into the available ship support seats and running through the checklist. Slapping toggles, flicking switches and tapping buttons in rapid sequence. His last focus is the most important, shields. He's preparing to keep them angled properly the second they launch.

Sira rights herself with a bit of a mid-air twist, glancing to her shoulderplate where some of the paint was scraped off of it. A /SIGH/ before she reorients herself toward the ship. Coming in a bit hot, she cuts the jets and kills the forward momentum as she sees the shot that went for Chewie and missed. The skid of her feet along the ground till she comes to a stop. The repeater back into the pocket of her arm as she pulls it tight.

The repeater barks as it shoots out the four rounds. The shots chipping the duracrete near her position as she keeps backing her way along and into the ship. Keeping the repeater aimed out toward the any of the other troopers that might be following.

WABOOM!SHRI-I-IEK! Sira immediately tracks toward the explosion to see the walker stumble as the one leg has been damn near sheered off. Hearing Ben's call about fascists waste receptacle as he rides in on the Chewie Express. She glances toward him, giving a little shake of her head, <"I have no idea what you said, but thanks for grabbing him."> She keeps backing up into the ship, waiting to make sure everyone got aboard before taking the last few steps inside herself.

Kallus growls as she takes aim once more... Not for any particular Rebel, but at the interior of one of the flaring sublight engines. The flames are cool at the moment, the sheering angle too high to deflect a plasma packet.

Especially a really, really large plasma packet.

The droid-scope zeroes in and Kassandra shows her teeth as she takes the shot. You aren't getting away that easy...

• TEE-TOH!*

Prism squeaks in surprise as she is scooped up by Hadrix but this isn't going to stop her determination. She awkward aims and manages to ingure another of the Imperial Army. A proud smirk curls her lips beneath her covert ops helmet as she readies to attempt another shot as she is carried off and away.

The downside to dropping a comrade from above: as he lands near the transport, Imperials are already firing on Lucayon's position. The Shistavanen's armor takes a chunk of the blaster impact, but the burn and force carries through nonetheless. For a moment, the Mandalorian staggers, and tries to ascend-- directly into the U-Wing's hull above him, back to the ground.

Then into a jet-accelerated scramble up into the hold, scarcely clearing other boarding allies in the instant of out-of-control agony and mis-aligned flight. It's not the most dramatic, impressive way to end his own sprint of slaughter this fine eve-- but there was, at least, an impressive sprint indeed to stagger away from.

One benefit of having a mother who ran a considerable portion of the galactic underground, was that she was not privvy to not giving Braiden presents to help him succeed. It got to the point, in his late teens, where he had to yell at her to stop smothering him, stop over protecting him. It had been the fight that had lead to him leaving, and joining the CorSec military. Sure, CorSec wasn't what it used to be, under the boot heel of the Sith empire, but it still was a far cry from the protective cover that his mother was prone to place over him, since he was her only child.

That being said, the young man wasn't an idiot, and when he knew he had enemies behind him, he activated the shield, and moved toward the transport. Once at its ramp, he waited for Chewbacca, and deactivated the shield again, before he swept himself inside, the wound on his shoulder still smouldering from the super heated gas that hit his unarmored arm. He sat down near to Chewie, and dropped his head back against the bulkhead, wondering if they'd get blown out of the sky now.

Eventually, he turned his leaned-back head over to look at the Wookiee. "Take the Han Solo Reality Tour, you said. Benefit from it, you said." He chided his furry friend, good naturedly, even if he--

Braiden winced as the wound seemed to be on fire with a demonic presence. "By the Force..." He muttered.

The craft is lifting under fire, when the last of them is aboard - Hadrix with Prism in one arm landing with a skidding scrape of Mandalorian Iron on durasteel deck while the U-Wing is already meters above the ground. Ramp swinging upwards and the old transport craft angling to fly low through the city streets. Swinging wide and clipping the side of a warehouse that shakes the entire ship and threatens to put everyone off their feet even with the protection of inertial dampeners.

The shriek of TIEs closing in on the area comes as the shuttle banks and swings its prow upwards before engines fire at full power, melting duracrete and blasting debris with tornado force winds in its wake - screaming skyward while the Imperial picket continues their maneuvering - unable to get into a proper interdiction course before the ship breaks atmosphere.

"This is your captain speaking, there are no in-flight meals. If you can't reach a seat to strap in, you'd best find something to brace on." The sullustan pilot's tone jovial in spite of the chaos going all around.

On the ground, the Imperial forces are left to begin policing bodies and triage for the wounded while those in the command center continue to try and find what it was the attack was meant for in all of this.

<<"Commander Kallus, we have no reports of slicing, nothing stolen. We don't know why they struck. I am sending a flash to Imperial Command, in case this is some prelude...">>