Log:They're coming out of the walls!

An insurgent team inserts on Cloud City

OOC Date: February 19, 2025
Location: Bespin[
Participants: Ben Relor, Cadogan West, Cin'cirad Rook, Pax Dredic, Darus Kethra, Zena Tane Zee'Roh Kora and Hadrix Kora as GM

Inserting onto Cloud City on Bespin wasn't difficult. It was a trade hub, Imperial presence or no. The team themselves, being of a variegated number of talents meant there were plenty of options for handling the first strike.

<<"Maintain closed comms unless absolutely necessary. If they cannot hear you, they can't try to anticipate...">> Hadrix noted, mingling on the edge of a crowd near their first target; an Imperial customs office. Cloud City had several and the one selected for today was closed, temporarily, for processing confiscated goods. Those apprehended with contraband already having been moved for interrogation, unfortunately, but at least not at risk of being in the line of fire.

<<"When we hit them. We move hard, fast and go to one of the service access hatches marked. The mission is not to eradicate, it's to harry. Take out, or injure, then move. Evade pursuit and be ready to double back. If we nest close by, they'll be more likely to overlook - expecting us to fan out and go to ground as far from them as possible... Questions? Suggestions?">>

The checkpoint, peopled with Imperial officers in black uniforms and several stormtroopers in red armor were mostly distracted with 'paperwork' for the moment. Those on guard waving approaching civilians away, or raising blasters towards those not wise to listen to their demands to back off initially. It walled away a portion of one of the landing zones for the city, where confiscated goods or items were kept, to be sent where appropriate. Peaceful looking, if not with a heavily sinister shadow over it.

Ben Relor and his trusty droid Five are here, the former shouldering a rucksack full of fun things. He's smoking, as per usual, and glowering at the Imperial officers and stormtroopers like they've personally, /personally/ offended him, which...they very well may have. If his eyes were explosives, these guys would definitely be dead already.

He glances over at Hadrix as he takes a drag. "You want to keep them from fanning out? We hit their comms first. Jam them, slice them, fry them -- I don't care how, but if they can't coordinate, they'll be scrambling. Even a few seconds of confusion is an opening."

He's Ben Relor so he always has questions. They keep coming. "Double-backing's a good idea, but how many service hatches are we working with? If one gets locked down, we need a contingency. And if they have reinforcements stationed close, we risk bottlenecking ourselves." A beat as he ponders more. "If we want to make them hesitate, we don't just injure. We maim. If their med teams are overwhelmed, their response time slows down. An injured officer is a liability. A dead one is a statistic." One more drag and he flicks it away. "First thoughts that go through my head. Take 'em or leave 'em, Hadrix."

The rare hired gun who wasn't a formal Rebellion member, Cadogan West put his helmet on to hear out the brief. Half a crude skull had been painted on the left side of the helm's faceplate.

He rolled his head to loosen up the neck as he listened, a heavy pistol on one side, and an array of grenades secured to the armor within east reach. "Ye worried 'bout material collateral? Cause we can make this big and messey as y'like, yeah?" Aside, he drawled to Ben, offering "Can help slice us out if the system gets locked down, yeah?"

<<"I might be able to get a good view form a bit higher up.">> Sira glances toward the target for the moment, a quick glance around using mostly the augmented reality of the helmet. <<"I got a new toy I was hoping to try out anyway...">> The sound of her chuckle is heard through the comm as she keeps moving. Pausing to look at something at a street vendor for a moment. <<"So, hit them hard, and then run, right?">>

Sira sets down the piece of fruit, her voice isn't carrying from outside her helmet as she's using the comm to talk to Hadrix and the others. Armor can be fun like that. She moves a bit further down, to another stall, looking over nicknacks for a moment before sliding down one of the alleyways not too far from where she was. Some place she could hopefully find roof access.

Pax Dredic interjects, over the comm channel, <"If we have slicer support, it would be useful to disrupt their electronic systems. Create multiple false reports of attacks. Disrupts comm systems. Like that."> His voice is clipped and terse as he goes through his gear.

And, gear the man does have. His Huntsuit is set to a dark, mottled grey, but as he moves, it becomes apparent it is reacting to the surroundings by tinting to an appropriate color. A harness is strapped over his chest, festooned with equipment, gremades, the handle of a vibroknife, and more. At his waist, a full-on vibrosword. And, over his shoulder, a long projectile rifle.

Darus stands off to one side, robed cowl drawn forward to mask most of his pale features. At his feet, a low-slung astromech chirps a short series of inquiries, to which Darus responds with hushed commands fed through a datapad clipped to his wrist. Nearby, a battered MSE-6 mouse droid waits impatiently, its tiny sensor dish shifting side to side, as though it can already sense the charge in the air. Keeping a measured eye on the Imperials tending their checkpoint, Darus quietly checks his readouts, making last-minute adjustments to a disruptive firmware he intends to deploy should he need to. Only when the tension rises around him; signaled by snippets of conversation echoing over comms; does he hazard a quick, acknowledging glance toward the others who prepare for their own parts in this strike.

He exhales slowly, running mental calculations on timing and proximity. "If we can slip the astromech into their terminal and jam their internal comm protocols, it should buy everyone those seconds we talked about," he says, voice lowered and even, trusting that the group can glean his plan through the closed channel. With a nudge of his boot, he coaxes the mouse droid into position for a backup approach, should the first ploy fail. In a place like Cloud City, subtlety is currency, and Darus prefers to use that currency wisely. A quick glance passes between him and the droids, and then he offers a curt nod, signaling readiness for the chaos soon to unfold, the hilt of his stunsaber gripped firmly in his hand.

Zena's along for the ride, minus her gun that's bigger than she is. No, this time, the gun is actually -smaller- than her. Barely. Strapped to her back, the big assault rifle is probably the most noticeable thing about her. That and her brightly colored armor, all pinks and purples.

She's milling around the stalls, minding her own business. <<"Heh,">> she says over the coms. <<"I leave the big one on my ship, and you take over my job. I see how it is, Sira,">> she jokes as she reaches out to touch this or that.

<<"Gar, buure'nynir - ba'slan shev'la">> Yes, lightning strike and strategic disappearance.

Information, at Ben's request, goes out - a number of hatches. Some old, some more newly noted, go out. To show on HUDs or on hand held sources as used by the assembled. <<"Sadly, looks like our slicers aren't on site yet... Probably why we got landed easier... But Darrus has a good point", but a droid might get us slowed down in retrieving. Your call.">>

Hadrix continues to loom at the side of the civilians moving about, <<"Sith Stormtroopers don't care about the wounded until it's done, Ben. They use First Order training methods.">> Said with a grim sort of authority on the subject in his voice, <<"As for collateral, no non-coms....">> Knees bending as he rises up on the balls of his feet.

<<"It's all good ideas.">> Head turning slightly toward Sira, <<"If you can, do it, Sira. We don't need to hit now. There's still time to position.">>

Ben has a highly skeptical look on his face, not like anyone is looking his way. If he can see Cadogan, well...that's who that skeptical look is being aimed at. Someone doesn't tend to trust hired guns. Or people he's just met. Or maybe anyone? <> He looks kind of lightly armed compared to the others, though the blaster on his hip and the vibrodagger strapped to his thigh are obvious enough. Maybe the rest is in that backpack?

What Hadrix says makes him grunt. <<"Good point. Don't know why I even questioned it.">> Having totally failed to find a terminal to slice into, he turns to his trusty Emotional Support Droid. "You see anything out there, buddy?" Five bleeps in the affirmative, and he'll start to roll over to the nearest terminal. Being a generally more cooperative creature than Relor, he'll even gladly sync up with Darus' R2 and go together. Two metallic, superior-to-sentient heads are better than one, after all.

"Least one is," Cadogan quipped when Hadrix stated 'our' slicers weren't on site, yet. "Need someting special, just holler, yeah?" A short nod acknowledged the 'no nom-coms' rule, and the lean spacer moved into a discreet position once within the station, proper. If he noticed Ben's side-eye, the helmet gave no clue of it. A quick look about for surveillance, and locate a handy terminal. <<"I see a terminal, but it's right out in the open. Exposed. Can't do it quiet-like. Maybe once the fun kicks off, yeah?">>

<<"Hey, girl wants to try out her new toy, what's wrong with that?">> Sira says back to Zena snort of a laugh, the one in question is a rather heavy looking rifle that's slung over her shoulder. It's fairly long and looks like it'll be anything but quiet, a slugthrower, but that's hardly her only weapons on her. Even down to the gloves under the bracers look like they might not be normal gloves.

Mandos gonna Mando!

She looks around and spots a way to get up to the exterior ladder without having to use her jetpack. Start off at least a /little/ quiet after all. A glance to the left and right, without her helmet having to turn much in that direction, and she starts climbing up to get to a better vantage point above the crowds. The first couple rungs take a moment for her to jump up and grab it. But from there, it's a relatively easy climb up as quiet as she can. She flicks her eyes over the images on the augmented reality - tagging a couple spots with eye clicks for her to escape toward.

<<"It's was a good question.">> Sira says back to Ben, <<"Checking on what the enemy might do is always a plus.">> And another rung up as she makes her way to a roof overwatch.

Darus pauses near the junction, peering through the murk of Cloud City's corridors with a faint scowl; too much thermal interference crowds his infrared vision, rendering any terminal difficult to pinpoint by eye alone. After a brief, silent exchange with his astromech, he gestures for it to lead the way, allowing the droid's sensors to do what his own vision cannot. Meanwhile, the diminutive MSE-6 scurries back and forth in feigned patrol, mimicking the humdrum activity of other mouse droids as it keeps a subtle watch for stray Imperials.

Before long, the R2 unit emits a soft whistle of success, rolling to a discrete console near a dimly lit corner. Darus stands by his side, his stunsaber being held like a tool more than a weapon, by the droids side, a datapad in his other hand as if running daignosticvs. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure they remain unnoticed. Satisfied that no immediate threats loom, he signals the astromech to begin its slice, quietly bracing himself for whatever might come next.

Over coms, Pax's voice comes flat and even and terse. <"There's no way to get a good crossfire set up without hitting non-coms in the background. I'm setting up in cover to provide a base of fire. Will engage on your go.">

He slides into a spot with something like cover maybe 25 meters from the post, and loosens the cord holding a few grenades. He doesn't draw his rifle up or anything. Not yet. Externally, he looks like a guy just...standing there. But his hand waits, right next to the grip of his slugthrower.

Zena lifts a hand as Sira scuttles off to Do Things. That's usually what Zena herself would be doing. As everyone else goes to do computer things, or set up firing lines, Zena mills about. Completely and utterly innocent. She weaves through stalls and shops, generally making herself seen and heard as she goes through. Her brightly colored armor, her giant rifle on her back. These things make her easy to pick out, maybe a little suspicious.

Better they watch her than what her pals are doing!

It's not even incerting when the doors are opened for trade. Which is why Zee'Roh Kora wasn't with the team, initially. She came early, did a little snooping around, maybe even had some noodles at a noodle place that's not are Nar Shaddaa and are therefore better.

<<"There is a sharp difference between 'you can slice' and being a slicer. I am 'sure' you broke the encyrption on a factory stock datapad once. It's like me saying 'I'm a pilot' because I know how to make it take off and land.">> It's the near squeaky voice of the tiny Mandalorian. She moves between the crowds without her helmet on. Curly brown hair pulled back into a long, curly, ponytail to keep it out of her face.

Once she's found what she's looking forward, the shadow-plates engage when she levers around a corner entrance of a tap-caf to position herself near a small access port back in the recesses corner of the wall. The illuminate plasty screen on her wrist computer flicks up and she extends out a wire from the top that spools out and plugs into the circular port.

Listening to the others, the big man watches. A hand moving to flick a snap on the hilt of a blade hung in cross draw sheath behind his back at waist height. Resisting the urge to hunker, though his shoulders are beginning to rise and fall with more rapidity.

At the checkpoint, a trio of stormtroopers come to relieve a set of the current number. The red armored troopers exchanging positions while more can be spotted within and among them still Imperial customs officers who are alternating between working intently, chuckling about some in-joke or another, or barking orders to their subordinates.

The civilians continue to mill about their day, being directed to the appropriate points to get registered as a guest or returning resident. Near the closed down checkpoint, a speeder passes with Imperial Army aboard, their immediate destination unknown as of yet. But at least things feel relaxed, despite their presence. Most sentients simply trying to go about their day on the tibana mining station city.

Poor Five. The local computer network is doing the droid equivalent of the dozens right now, which is definitely irritating the astromech quite a bit. But hey, he was just a backup plan. There's a real slicer here now!

Meanwhile, Ben mutters into his comms: <<"Gonna set up a panic window here. A couple of 'get-their-attention' charges to rattle 'em. If they think they're under a bigger attack, they'll split their forces, giving us gaps to slip through...ideally.">>

He peers around for some weak spots. Power junctions, supply crates, structural weak points that won't make it all come down. And once he finds them, he scampers over, opens that backpack of his, and starts to go to. It's absolutely loaded up with homemade explosive charges and extra materials to make 'em. Sticky ones, in this case, that he gets into position, making sure to leave enough room so the civvies won't be blasted to bits...and then, scampering away in search of his poor droid.

readied a grenade, let it pass, and absolutely *pegged* some unfortunate trooper with the handheld charge, immediately before it exploded. He ducked around a pillar and cracked a grin as the first explossion ripped through Cloud City's corridors.

Sira pulls her way up the last few rungs and stays low to the rooftop. Grabbing some of the detritus and garbage, she starts pushing it toward one of the corners where she intends to set up on overwatch. She hums a little tune to herself as she tilts her head a bit to the left and right. <<"I'll be ready in-">> And then Cadogan mentions that he's going, and she lets out a little sigh - though not over the comms.

<"Always in a hurry."> She mumbles to herself as she pulls the rifle off her back, then rolls over onto her back. Holding it in her arms, she shuffles on her back till she's just about in position. Rolling over and popping the bi-pod up she hears the explosion thunder not far away. <"Al-l-lways in a hurry."> Shuffling a bit farther forward, the rifle barrel in line with some of the debris and not overhanging the building's top, she looks down the sight. Right hand on the grip, with the left hand tucked just in front of her right elbow.

<"Oh hello..."> She mumbles as she starts shifting her aim while looking through the scope, adjusting the magnification so it isn't too strong. She's finally set up in position and on overwatch.

Pax Dredic steps out from his concealment as the massive explosion rattles the entire area with concussive force. Before the sound has even faded, he's already pressing the advantage created by the sudden switch from peace to violence.

Violence of action. That principle has been the key to assaults throughout history, and it is no different here. Over the suit's comms, he flatly intones, <"Pax. Engaging troopers from cover."> And as he says it, he does it. His right hand whirs to the drop holster on his right hip, snapping the massive advanced slugthrower out. In one smooth motion, he tracks the weapon to a trooper -- the nearest, as chance has it -- lines up the pipper, and designates it in his HUD.

A very un-blasterlike concussive *BOOOOOOM* roils the are, and a hole appears center mass low on the armored troops. Blood leaks from the hole. Without hesitation, Pax yanks a cylinder marked with blue lightning bolts from his harness asnd lines up his next shot.

Darus barely flinches at the thunderous detonation echoing through the corridor; his attention remains fixed on the R2 unit as it inserts its data probe into the console. He keeps one hand steady on the droid's chassis, maintaining just enough contact to steady himself and the droid while it slices through the Imperial security layers. The MSE-6, meanwhile, dashes for cover behind his boots, giving off panicked little chirps that do nothing to diminish Darus's focus.

With a measured inhalation, Darus thumbs the activation switch on his stunsaber, the blade humming to life as it crackles a white in the low light, though it remains silent. He holds it at a low guard, barely off the ground, positioning himself between the console and any wandering troopers who might decide to investigate. His gaze sweeps the hallway, ensuring that neither stray blaster fire nor frenzied stormtrooper squads can interrupt the astromech's work. Here, in the roaring aftermath of an already chaotic skirmish, his role is clear-protect the droids and their delicate hacking efforts with every ounce of vigilance he can muster.

Things start to happen. Explosions, blaster fire. It's time to move. As people assuredly begin to flee, Zena throws herself down to the ground, rolling to the side and disappearing under a stall table, the cloth drape over the front fluttering as she passes under it. Inside the stall, she unstraps her big rifle, slamming a power pack into the slot.

<"First run. Do great,"> she says to her gun. Shimmying along the floor, she braces herself as she looks for a clear shot on, well, anyone she doesn't like!

The explosion in the speeder is a short fuse for a panic bomb.

Pole-axing back out of their seat when the grenade cracks into the faceplate of their helmet and then launched when it goes off in the middle of the passenger bed. Bodies and shattered plasteel armor are sent flying as the speeder careens out of control when the blast shoves the driver into their control stick. Swinging wide and then going sideways to kick itself over to slam down on its side.

Civilians scream. Some run, more stand in a more common 'panic response' for those uninitiated to sudden violence in their midst. That being standing with their eyes and mouths as wide as their relative species are capable of. The panic washes through like a wildfire in dry grass.

Gunshots only fan the flames.

Hadrix melts back into a patch of shadow that is enhanced by the smoke, targeting whip dropping over his visor and a launch system on his right vambrace extending with a quintet of small missiles locking into position as targeting brackets begin locking into place on his HUD.

<<"So it begins.">>

The troopers, moreso than the customs officers, at least have training and discipline. Their weapons coming up and they begin training towards the only member of the assault team that they can see. The ones with the big damned revolver and the,

<"SABER! JEDI!">

<"BLAST 'EM!">

With access to the system through the tap-caf data terminal, Zee'Roh begins searching the database for what she's looking for. Root access, the aurebesh symbols on her small monitor shift rapidly. Almost as rapidly as her brown eyes, ticking side to side mechanically with the black pitch of her iris' circling in alternating directions as each segment of the code-sequencer aligns.

A half turn to look around the edge of the wall she's braced against, but only when all hell breaks loose in the corridors before the customs office. Explosions and gunfire. A Mandalorian birthday party.

They return back to her work, just as the last symbol snaps into place... all through the sector, doors are sliding closed and locking. Red-lights appearing over the entry point to block off reenforcements... at least until someone gets in the system and tries to make her stop being a problem. <<"I bought you some time to get real familiar with the bucket-heads.">>

Ben didn't do the best job placing those charges, but the load is gonna work out in his favor. He and Five (still reeling from being called 'Worst Flavor Astromech' by the city's computers) get a safe distance away -- and let's hope none of the company are near them, because Ben's not ruining the element of surprise here. It's all about catching these karking Imps off guard. Stars, does Ben ever hate Imps.

He pulls out his remote detonator, stroking it a little, and grins to himself, muttering. Not screaming at the top of his lungs like he'd prefer. "Eat det, you kriffing bucketheads..." KA-BOOM! The explosions go off, blasting a half meter crater in the wall with the heat and light of a thousand suns...okay, maybe just one sun. Still, it's absolute chaos. Smoke, dust and debris are everywhere, lights flickering overhead, ground shaking, and the civvies are screaming and running around like they're all under attack.

/They're/ not...but they might not wanna be near the Imps, who are certain to think this is a way, way bigger ambush than it actually is. That's the idea.

Sira takes another slow breath, as she lines up on one of the Sithtroopers. Adjusting her left hand to help pull the riflestock into her shoulder as she stays on target, letting her gaze soften every so often before bringing it back around into focus on one of those red helmets. She draws in her breath one more times, lets it out most of the way, squee- KA-BOOM! Right as Sira squeezed the trigger, the Sithtrooper did the last thing that she had been anticipating...

... He just went straight onto his stomach as the explosion went off. The buck of her rifle into her shoulder armor, <"Sith spit!"> She says partly annoyed at herself, she had that guy lined up perfectly for a centermass shot and then he goes and does that?! Hells! The sound of the rifle was definitely one hell of a boom, though hopefully covered over by Ben's explosives. Her right hand releasing the grip while her left kept the rifle in, quickly cycling the bolt.

Sira's hand returns to the grip once, more finger poised as she waits for the guy to stand back up. Maybe he didn't realize that he was just shot at?

HAH! Yeah right Sira, this is your luck you're talking about.

Pax Dredic tsks as shots zing wildly past. He doesn't even flinch, but that's mostly because he's busy fighting. He breaks cover by necessity, because, well, getting within 20 meters means getting to an open area where he can be seen. All part of the plan. Calculated risks and all.

It is rapidly apparent that Pax had a plan moving out here, and already thought matter through. The ion grenade in his left hand is considered with a glance, then that idea is discarded. He brings his pistol up to the marked target, eyes narrowed behind his visor.

• BOOOOOM!!!*

• BOOOOOM!!!*

• BOOOOOM!!!*

The shots are not panic fire. They aren't event stressed. Just three quick, well-aimed shots.

The first trooper, the one already with a hole in his chest, reaches up and numbly covers the leaking hole in his abdomen. His face isn't visible, but he moves in slow-motion disbelief. That costs him his life. A second round smashes into his faceplate. As he falls, blood and brains and bone go everywhere.

Pax is already back-pedaling at a slow tactical walk, back towards his cover as the massive explosion rips through the building. It causes him to twitch, and his second shot goes wide of one of the troopers. The third, though? It hits center mass, too. A large hole appears. Blood starts pumping out in bright red arterial spurts.

Pax slips back into his cover, a wall of displays offering marginal cover at best.

Darus braces himself as chaos erupts around him, the crash of metal and the roar of panicked cries blending into a single disorienting hum. A blaster bolt streaks toward him through the haze; he shifts his footing with a fluid twist, bringing his stunsaber around in a precise arc that deflects the shot into a nearby pillar. Smoke drifts in lazy curls while bodies scramble for cover, and his astromech lets out a shrill warning beep at the rising threat, unable to get passed the current set of codes. Undeterred, Darus attempts to channel the Force, aiming to pry the rifle from the trooper's grip with a subtle, outstretched hand. He squints his eyes, pulling with all of his might, but he just simply can't connect. The effort dissipates like a breath on cold air, leaving Darus to grit his teeth and pivot back into a defensive stance.

Zena lines up, prone on the floor in proper aiming position.

Then the charges go off, throwing debris and smoke through the air. This does not help. She squeezes the trigger, a three round burst of blaster bolts barking from the weapon. They don't really hit anything, but she can't really tell!

<<"Kriffing....Explosives are for the escape!">>

She swears a ot, letting the weapon cycle.

There's often a subtly to a slicer's work. A back and forth with the system to coax out results for the given job. In Zee'Roh's line of work, however, it's all about brute force. She is the Sith in the Machines. The aurebesh symbols continue to alternate as her brown iris' spin in unison with the shifting code sequence.

First the doors malfunction, which causes chaos ontop of the explosions from the team.

Then there's a sound. It's not quite like an explosion, but more of nails on chalkboard, that comes from the interior walls of every turbolift as the mag-clamps start releasing in unison. The carriage drops from upper levels with a screaching howl as they go in rapid descent through the passage tubes. Until the emergency repulsor cushions catch them with a groan, if only because SO MANY hit at once.

<"Oops.">

Smoke and dust wash through, Ben's explosion and the open side of the customs check pushing as well as pulling it across like a curtain that suffers momentary, healing, holes when rifle and pistol fire cut through. Troopers not downed by the slug weapons, or the barrage of energy darts hurled by Zena, are fighting the concussion of the massive blast.

Seeking cover. Seeking enemies.

The ones still outside the custom's offer move as though speaking - but combat discipline has shifted them purely to comms. Even hand gestures are vague, hardly anything like 'common' signaling. They move to firing lines when a series of musical whines streak through the smoke filled open area, where civilians have cleared away from - crowding into stores and into what cover they can find.

Three of those out front and two of the troopers past the checkpoint gate all stop, moving as if punched in their chests before a series of POPs send them hurtling back to skid along the ground.

<<"Start moving. Hit who you can. Good job, Relor. Scatter. Targets of opportunity. Get to the hatches and signal when in. Gripper will forward the rendevou relative to positions.">>

Hadrix's growl on comms, the big man simply walking now, another shadow in the smoke.

Sometimes, Ben's a little too good at his job. Good enough that there's so much damn smoke and debris and all the other shavit that as he's making his way forward, heading for the hatches while the rest of the team add their own particular fine brands of chaos to the mix -- the smoke and the chaos and the everything else, not to mention the general rage he feels when he's anywhere in the vicinity of Imperials, is just too much...for his aim, apparently. Yelling out something unintelligible, he raises his red Mandaltech pistol, going for the customs officer...and going way wide. Once, twice. His voice goes hoarse from all the profanity, Five bleeping at him as he rolls along, probably trying to keep him on track. Before he just loses his shit completely.

corner. Nothing. He starts toward the nearest maintenance hatch, reporting in, <<"South passage is still clear. Filing an appeal on the way out,">> he quipped with a snicker. Crossing the smoke choked floor, he sees darts of illumination from the embattled customs post, gauges the distance and decides, "What the hell," and hurls a grenade at long range. It's one of those throws that feels good straight out of the hand, and Cado starts running for the hatch without waiting to see it land.

He hears the detonation and a jagged trilling scream as he slips into the escape route. <<"This is West, I'm clear.">>

Sira is still lined up on that one, when the whistling bird hits him square in the face and she lets out the rest of her breath. The slow drawn in breath as she shifts in her position while moving about to track another target, the helmet helping her find it amidst the smoke, overlaying it on the augmented reality. She lets the breath back out, pausing most of the way out but not fully as she moves her finger to the trigger.

And a squeeze.

The Sithtrooper doesn't seem to have any idea what hit him. The buck of the rifle into her shoulder, and she waits only a moment to make sure she was on target. The round hitting him center mass cleanly through the armor with the /boom/ of her rifle still fading. Sliding the rifle back, her left hand moves forward to pull the bi-pod next to the barrel and begins to wiggle backward.

A bit back from the edge and she rolls over and starts moving back up into a crouch. It was time for her to get the hells out of here.

Situations dictate tactics, not the other way around. With that guiding princple firmly in mind, the lithe mercenary moves back out of cover as smoke and debris and chaos fill the senses of, well...everyone.

The handcannon is slid into its holster, locked in place. The ion grenade is stowed and safed. And then he reaches back, unlimbering the long cycler on his back, bringing it up and ready.

The Huntsuit he wears flickers as the adaptive camo changes, helping him disappear into the background of the general chaos. Hunched down, he moves out of the main engagement area, back towards his assigned exit.

<"This is Pax. Breaking contact. Exfilling at Point Rancor.">

Darus turns away from the chaos long enough to place a hand against the battered console, eyes narrowing in focused determination. Smoke swirls around him in thick, choking plumes, and for a few tense heartbeats, he attempts to commune with the system via the Force---an effort quickly thwarted by the onslaught of disarray. "Frick... this is way harder under pressure.." he mutters under his breath, dropping his hand in frustration and momentary exhaustion as the astromech at his feet emits a nervous series of beeps. Without a second thought, Darus straightens, reaching beneath his cloak to retrieve a vibroblade. His grip on the weapon is notably surer, each angle and shift of his stance suggesting a comfort born of habit. While the lightsaber-lite may have tested his finesse earlier, the lethal hum of the vibroblade feels like an extension of his own resolve in this moment, ready to carve through any threat that dares draw closer, "Ok.. new strategy.."

The order to get the kriff out comes over the comms. <<"Roger. Withdrawing,">> Zena says, rolling back out of her hiding spot. She spots motion and a flash of red through the smoke, and she pulls the trigger on her rifle. It barks and hurls a trio of red bolts down at the Sithtrooper. This time one of them hits! Already injured from a grenade earlier, the center mass hit is enough to drop the soldier.

She doesn't sling the rifle, instead carrying it as she starts to run through the smoke and chaos to the extraction point.

<"Away we go.">

Zee'Roh was already in the turbolift controls so it's just a matter of forcing the doors open with some creative code work. The doors open, even though the lift sits at the bottom of the shaft, and the Slicer disengages her wrist computers access. The cord spools back into the side while her helmet slides on with a hiss. 

Shimmering shadow-plates as the tiny Mandalorian whips herself around the corner at a run. Rapid movement bending light around her as she goes in and out of the dense dust, but the combination of her HUD and augmented vision has enemy signatures highlighted in red against the distortion of smoke and debris.

The Rocket-pack fires a short burst, sending Zee sliding on a knee, along the side of a Sith Trooper who is still mostly caught up in the confusion. Back onto her feet in a sprint with her wrist flamer kicking off a long plume behind her, igniting a troopers feet.

Another rocket burst as she nears the open turbolift shaft. Airborne. With only a trooper standing betwixt herself and escape. That is, at least, until she kicks them into the open turbolift shaft. Gravity and the sudden stop at the bottom will do the heavy lifting on this one. She peers over the side, one hand out holding the door open with the pilot-light on her flamer still flickering. <"Oof.. I meant for him to hit the wall..."> Technically he probably did.. all the way down that shaft.

<<"Acknowledged. Moving to fade. Gripper.">>

<<"Once everyone's out of sight, I'll send the meet-point via scramble code.">> The ID-10 units voice on comms now, a woman's with a similarly 'posh' accent much like Hadrix's Coruscanti aristocratic.

Those troopers pulling themselves up in the wake of Cadogan's explosives, and not wiped out by Zena or Sira's fire, moving for full defilade as the smoke and dust from Ben's explosives -finally- starts to clear enough for them to try and give quick leans around corners trying to spy their assailants.

Those not wreathed in flames, or battered down a turbolift shaft, with a strike from opportunity hunkering back, trying to get a better angle on the situation, let alone get through the communications blocks.

Hadrix simply moves with the smoke as air currents move it, walking directly to the edge of the landing and stepping off. Anti-grav belt engaging once he is out of sight to reduce his fall speed as his hand catches the edge to direct his float towards one of the hatches to be found below.

The civilians who had been trapped by the access hatches being locked have quieted, most in shock. None hurt though. Alarms start to go off, klaxons to alert all of Cloud City of trouble coming.

Pax Dredic moves to his designated escape point with no further action. There is a brief look over his shoulder as he rips the access panel off, and trips the concealed explosives to blow it off. Slap charges make a neat little hole for Pax

And, with no further trouble...he slips away, into the dark tunnel.