Log:Array Consortium: He Who Controls The Spice...

From Star Wars: Age of Alliances MUSH
Jump to: navigation, search

He Who Controls The Spice...

Location: Corva Yag, Rseik Sector
Participants: Adhar Gann, Bar'duur, Aola Ziveri, Mandl, Dosk, Meep, Wodi Corcer

With business repeatedly threatened by a rival smuggling syndicate, Adhar marshals crew of the Bandit's Castle - along with some fellow Captains - to launch a strike against an important spice facility in the Outer Rim. But though they intend to strike a precise surgical strike against an unsuspecting - and relatively undefended - facility, things naturally go pear-shaped. Will the Consortium carry the day?

It's operations day, it's operations day, Fortune have mercy, it's operations day!

The call's gone out, not just to deck crew but to other captains and to even the pilot prospect, Aola - there's business to be done, and it's of the hostile takeover kind. Standing on the side of the flight deck with Bar'duur, Adhar wears the same interesting, dark-blue suit as the other man does; sleek life-support boxes that run down part of the left side of the chest instead of hanging like a big square on the front, reinforced fiber padding underneath the fabric, the two men wear these suits and carry dark blue helmets that completely lack visors, instead bearing a number of yellow lenses all over the helmets like tiny, recessed eyes. Bit of a cross between a blast-shielded helmet and a training remote. Either way, they're tad disturbing, held under each man's arm as they are, like the severed heads of mythical creatures.

As the lot of you file in, Adhar lifts his hand in greeting. "Right on time," he says, grinning faintly. "Fantastic. Good evening, everyone, thank you for coming. Lots of business to attend to."

Wodi Corcer wanders into the flight deck wearing his old shipsuit with added vest and life support. His isn't fancy. It's grey, and he hates it, but it gets the job down. His flight helmet hangs loosely from his hand and he moves to have a seat on a crate, looking as bored as usual.

Dosk stands there, having just arrived from off world. He says nothing from amongst the group of people but merely stands there. Perhaps a bit drowsy from his recent journey. An arm reaches back to pull out his flask and he takes a pull. His head shaking a bit as he swallows and pulls out a cigarra to chew on. He has been busy, but he is here still.

This time, if Aola was going to be flying she was bringing her own gear. Trying to stuff one's lekku into a standard human helmet wasn't just uncomfortable, it was outright impossible. Dressed in her own rather plain flightsuit with the coverall rolled down and tied off at her waist for comfort for the time being, the blue-skinned woman entered with her helmet tucked under one arm, blinking a little at the helmets before frowning up at Adhar and raising a hairless brow. "If this is one of those Empire-brainwashing relics? I might just start backing away towards the door," she half-jests, the lekku draped forward over her shoulders giving a little twitch at her statement.

Meep is hiding... sort of. The Teek's taken refuge inside a small cargo crate, lifting the lid juuust enough to peer out at the gathering crowd. It's a little inconspicuous.. a lone crate with a set of eyes blinking from under the lid... but that is the Meepster.

Bar'duur has his weight shifted to his right foot, his expression solemn but relaxed. He just upnods a little as the others arrive, meanwhile deck crew move about getting things ready, keeping things tip-top, everyone seems to know what to do by now. He smirks a bit at Aola's comment. "have you heard of the Tie's interface with the Tie suits? This is similar to that but better." He says this while hefting his helm a bit.

"Okay," says Adhar, holding up the helmet. "First thing's first. These are new flightsuits we've had designed based on technical analysis of an ancient relic that was briefly in our possession - one of those things from the Great Hyperspace War or so that, while old, is still incredibly advanced. Now for those of you who will be flying fighters regularly for the Consortium, we will be fitting you for these and you will get your own - however, they're fifteen thousand credits a piece, so we are issuing them primarily to dedicated flight personnel." He nods to Bar'duur. "The suits are armored better than most other flight suits on the market, and the life-support gear is top of the line. The helmets, however, are the real secret."

He holds his helmet out so that all can see it. "These sensor lenses allow three hundred and sixty-five degrees of vision inside the helmet," he explains, "Projected holographically. On foot, you can see what's literally behind you just by turning your face enough so that the sensor system tracks. Connected to the sensors of a fighter or a transport, you can see all around the ship itself."

"So, we're just gonna have a history lesson about helmets, now? I thought we had a job," Wodi quips, pretending to doze off as Bar'duur and Addy ramble on. He raises his hand and taps his chronometer. "Time is credits."

Dosk just watches and chews on his cigarra as Adhar speaks. Looking to Wodi and smiling to himself.

"Ancient relic?" Aola repeats, crossing her arms over her chest before frowning a little. "Not to point out the obvious, but is it 'ancient' because it was fazed out for a reason? Noone wants a helmet that's going to make them 'fill the bowl' or melt their brains." Another little twitch of her lekku and she glances at the other pilots. "Walking around in one sounds like a good way to make yourself dizzy."

Bar'duur just grunts a bit as the group make their opinions known. "Well there havnt been any issues with them yet but that's what we have you all for." He says with a faint smirk, before his attention turns to Wodi. "Are we keeping you from a hot date? Dont worry Hutts dont move far."

Meep is no pilot... unless you count his scooter. So he's quite content to hunker down in his crate-bunker and wait out the storm. He is well stocked with snacks and refreshments, using his teeth to tear off a wrapper to begin munching.

"And Wodi gets fitted for his last," Adhar says blithely, giving the guy a bit of a grin. "And go change out of that. I've got a TX-3 for you to use in the meantime. It's blue, and there's even a scarf in there for you." Sure enough, there will be - cream-colored, silk, and fairly expensive. Well then.

"All kidding aside, we'll go over the technical briefing later for those who will be wearing them. Like Wodi says, time is credits, and we have a relatively small window." He nods to Aola. "A very good point! But this is one of those rare situations where 'ancient' just means old, and not outdated. Technology has risen and fallen in the last twenty-five thousand years. It's superior to Imperial technology by a good margin, and can connected to the sensor systems of any starfighter or transport currently in service. Suffice it to say that wearing these, it will be much more difficult to miss fighters coming in from behind, or assailants on the ground for that matter. Peripheral vision is expanded to the point that while it's not /impossible/ to sneak up on someone wearing these, it /is/ much less likely. You can see the benefit, I'm sure."

That said, today we are going to be mounting a raid on a spice storage facility currently operated by the Mathall Syndicate. As most of you already know, the Mathalls run a spice mining and refining operation in the Rim beyond Utapau, where they can ferry and utilize slave labor without interference from Republic or other planetary interference. We are going to put a severe dent in that operation today."

"It's actually with Mama Bar'duur. She's not too quick, either, but I like to take my time," Wodi says, blowing a kiss at Bar'duur. "Keep sassing me and I'll be your new step-daddy, horndog."

At Adhar's comment, Wodi slumps down off his crate and moves to get changed into his new suit.

Dosk nods "It will be nice to end a slave operation. Will we be attempting to obtain any of that spice?" The Codru Ji asks while standing amongst the participants. "Not that its a big deal, but would be nice, after we have freed the slaves, to get some cargo."

Aola frowns, but she's in no hurry to volunteer. She was technically only a hire-on for the moment, and it might just be a matter of pride for the Twi'lek pilot. She'd gotten this far without some sort of 'mirror goggle' helmet and always came out on top. Such a gizmo felt somewhere between wasteful and distracting to her thoughts. Was it really such a suprising attitude from someone who still prefered the T-70 X-wings over some of the more modern craft?

Bar'duur just smirks at Wodi. "Oh, my mother, good luck with that." He replies with a shake of his head. His attention turns to Dosk, before back to Adhar to hear the response. If one has an aversion or resistance to new stuff, these high tech looking ones would do the trick, they definately look like they would cost as much as they do.

Meep is still in his box, don't mind him, newp, nothing to see here!

"That's the plan, yes," Adhar says with a nod to Dosk. "Based on the information we got from the last batch of slaves we saved from the Mathalls, this facility is located on the planet of Corva Yag, in the Rseik Sector. Rseik lies to the galactic south of Utapau and the Tarabba sector, and Corva Yag may be known to some of you as the site of the Corva Yag Massacre that took place during the Civil War. That's all gone, however, and the only people who live on the planet aren't dead colonists or sabotaged, psychotic droids but the Mathall facility.

"The Mathalls are roosting in what appears to be an old Imperial facility that they've converted into a storage and packing center for the Yrva spice their mining in the far end of the adjoining Airam sector. The facility is protected by automated laser guns on watchtowers, as well as a small fighter squadron. We will jump the Bandit's Castle into high orbit, sortie fighters from there, and destroy the fighters while the Castle annihilates planetary defenses with a turbolaser salvo. Then, Dosk and the rest of us will land and engage any ground forces with the Castle providing cover. Once the ground forces are routed or depleted, we will secure the slaves, transfer them back to the Castle, and do our level best to load as much of the spice into our holds before destroying the rest of the complex via orbital bombardment." He looks around. "Questions?"

Wodi Corcer returns with his fancy new flightsuit. Though it's not quite as fancy or new as Adhar and Bar'duur's of course.

Once the briefing is concluded (i.e. the boring stuff) Wodi wanders over to the Sabacc 1 and says, "This is me." patting the ugly starfighter's hull.

Dosk nods "Sounds like a plan. Will follow your lead" saying as he looks about and catches Meep peeping from his box, the Codru meanders that way and waits for him to pop up again. If/when he does he will get close and ask "And who might you be?"

Meep does indeed pop up, more to sate his sense of curiousity. It is then that he comes face to.. face... ish.. with Dosk! "taehaegaje!" he squeals in surprise, quickly ducking back down inside his box, keeping the lid closed... sticking his proverbial head in the sand as it were.

It was going to feel strange flying another mission without her faithful droid backing her up, but Aola was going have to roll with it. Listening to the plan she frowns and pats the small folded rifle strapped to her leg. It was for emergency landings, she wasn't exactly a ground trooper even if she'd deliberately sought some additional training in case her luck ever ran out, but even so? She turns to make a beeline towards the Reaper. Unless she's stopped, it was certainly her preference of craft when she couldn't fly her own. Otherwise? She'd need to take a walk back to another hanger to pick up her fighter."

"I'm not done." Adhar grunts. "Bar'duur and Aola till fly the Avengers, since apparently there's no power in the Galaxy that will keep her from it." No annoyance - on the contrary, he sounds quite amused. "Wodi, you'll indeed take Sabaac 1 to also intercept those fighters. I will follow in the Blackguard to provide heavy support for you three and against ground targets, escorting Dosk in."

He looks at Aola for a moment, considering. "All right," he says, "Get your fighters prepped and familiarize yourself with the controls. We'll make for hyperspace and be there in five hours."

Wodi Corcer climbs up the attached ladder into the cockpit of the Sabacc 1, sliding his flight helmet on and settling into his new home. He lays his head back and closes his eyes, tuning everything and everybody out until it's time to party.

Bar'duur listens while Adhar talks, shifting his weight at least once in the process. "All of us landing in our fighters, if there's room right?" The Zabrak asks, briefly tracking the room's contents. "We dont expect any capitals right?"

Adhar shakes his head. "No," he says to Bar'duur. "And if there is, we'll take care of it. Shouldn't be more than a corvette if so."

Dosk bops one of his hands on Meeps box once more, a bit amused. "Lets Go!" He says as he moves to load up and prepare for departure. "Hopefully I will see you all afterwards, good luck all!" he shouts while making his way up the ramp, waving with all 4 arms before prepping a cigarra.

Tucking her helmet over her head, Aola pulls her suit properly into place and opens up the oxygen flow. These crazy TIEs and their lack of concern for the pilot was...concerning, but it was the better option. Catching the comment about the fighter, she looks back over her head. "Its your ship, if someone else needs it? I'll RV with you in the air." A shrug of her shoulders, if she's not stopped then the Twi'lek was going to climb into the fighter. The flight the other day was fun, but actual combat? That was where she'd really get to see what the ship could do.

Bar'duur emits a little grunt and nod to Adhar. "There should still be torpedos loaded, dont usually need missiles in the Avengers, you know about the tractor beam? Probably wont need that, either." He shrugs, his expression fairly serious and buisness like now. He upnods to Dosk a bit and smiles mildly. "Good luck!" He says before he makes his way toward his personal fighter, Deep Hunter.

Adhar does not prep his fighter - it's already prepped, he just needs to get in and go. Meanwhile, he takes to the bridge to oversee the action.

Five hours later, the ship yanks into position as realspace reasserts itself, and...it's a goddamned mess. Instantly, combat alarms fill the ship, and the bay fills with the distant mammoth whine of the ship's turbolasers.

"ALL SHIPS," calls a woman's voice, the deck officer of the hours. "STARFIGHTERS ON ASSAULT APPROACH. SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE!"

Well, you heard the lady! Avengers: assemble!

Wodi snorts to life, starting up his fighter as the alarm blares in his ears. Beauty sleep: ruined.

His helmet afixed Bar'duur powers on the craft with which he's become so familiar, a lot of the parts arent actually from a Tie but considering the fact he learned how to fly a fighter in this one, or for it specificly, he's adjusted just fine. The Deep hunter screams out of the bay, increasing speed once it's clear of the atmosphere field.

Mandl waits for Dosk to be off before powering engines, not-quite-swooping out of the bay. A graceful glide. "Well, here we go. All digital citizens to their stations, we are on full combat-alert." Mandl's crew complies, and off they *whoosh!* after Dosk.

The Avengers, followed by Wodi, emerge to find the Castle engaged in deadly combat with another capital, just as Bar'duur feared. The space over the rocky, windswept globe of Corva Yag is flooded with light as the Marauder corvette pours fire into the broadside of a heavily modified Corellian CR90! The ship's hull is distended, its sides swollen up with two large pods that run the length of the ship to the drives - the side facing the Marauder is set with a long hangar aperture, from which stream a quartet of ancient Imperial TIE fighters and a pair of TIE bombers. The blue furies scream toward the ship, spewing electric death from their cannons, while the bomber contacts are far to the rear...but they are coming.

Bandit's Castle pounds the corvette with fusillades of green light from its octet of dual turbolasers, while taking a lesser flood of red bolts from the enemy corvette. Deflectors flash like curtains made of lightning flickering lightning.

Bar'duur, Aola, and Wodi streak through this carnage, ready to meet the TIEs as they swarm in - death is here, and it will not stop until it succeeds or is bested.

Meanwhile, messages flash across the displays of the freighters - DO NOT LAUNCH: REPEAT, DO NOT LAUNCH. INSTRUCTIONS UPDATING.


Dosk remains at the helm of the transport, almost ready to go until he sees the alert and pauses..His hands remaining on the controls in anticipation as one of his arms hits the intercom. "We've been told to hold, I will alert when we are launching" he states as the ship hums alive.

Aola actually gives a little noise of excitement before she opens her mouth to give orders...and then closes it again. She wasn't the one leading the wing today. Biting her lip after a moment, she shrugs her shoulders and speaks up anyway. "Deep Hunter, you and I can handle these TIEs. Sabacc 1? Go chase some bombers. We've got your back." Hopefully, she hadn't just massively stepped on toes, but she was already moving to engage some of the TIEs.

Bar'duur frowns a little bit, first at the command not to launch and then other things, he's quickly changing his original trajectory switching fire patterns to depress on the trigger. Green blasts of light erupt from the Hunter one laser at a time, short burts of rapid succession.

Mandl's droids, quicker than Mandl to process digital warnings, cut the launch-sequence short. "Ah, yes, heavy TIE activity. 70% chance of fireballs. We wait." Still, like Dosh, Mandl waits poised to act at a second's notice... (re)

And it's a furrball, as they say! The first two of the five incoming fighters are converted into rolling fireballs by the combined guns of Aola and Wodi, with the Fabulous One getting his target square through the cockpit thanks to Bar'durr's missed shot herding it into position as it evades him. "Yeah, on it," Wodi sighs as he punches past the fighters, heading toward the bombers in his insolent way.

Meanwhile, the remaining TIEs open fire in a flood of green light - however, the fighters aren't nearly the combatants their Imperial forebears were, and their shots are wasted against the Castle's deflector shields. They press on, preparing to break and try to wheel around and get you all from behind.

As for the two angry giants (relatively speaking), the Castle's shields are stronger than that of its opponent, but the fore deflectors are weakening regardless; the turrets shear through the Corellian ship's deflectors first, however, and as its starboard shields fail a fusillade of turbolaser fire shears through the hull, sending up fireballs wherever they land. A pair of missiles streak through the shield bubble just as the Castle's fore shields fail, and though the turbolasers on the Corellian corvette hammer at the Castle now, its armor holds strong. Not so the engines on the Corellian, for they take two solid hits from the concussion missiles, blasting multiple drive tubes. They go dark, streaming vapor, and the enemy's escape is crippled.

"All ships," comes Adhar's voice over the comms, "Those bombers are carrying heavy space bombs! Take them out and ignore the fighters. I'm coming down to join you."

Meanwhile, Dosk and Mandl still get the same message - hold fast until further orders....

Dosk continues to hold firm, transmitting on the intercom once again "We are still standing by, I will keep you updated" Announcing as he signals the crew on the ground to move his ship up close to the force field before radioing to Mandl "I'm moving in close to launch faster, if you want to position beside me, its your call" shouting as the ship gets rocked by fire.

The TIEs really were just outclassed, technology and talent wise. Aola herself would probably brag as much after the fight, but right now? She was right in the rush. Sweeping past the fighter she'd just destroyed, the Twi'lek brings the Reaper screaming towards the bombers, fingers squeezing the trigger of the blaster controls. "Only two bombers?" she muses. "C'mon Deep Hunter, lets see who can get there first." Some people do truely act a little odd in combat, don't they?

Mandl nods agreement, sliding the 'Liquid Diet' into a faster... eventual trajectory... as the ship shoots sparks and rocks boat-wise. "Override the full sequence, J9, use the accelerated program. Burn the circuits if you must."

Bar'duur misses his first shots, following the tie he had targeted with part of his attention while keeping an eye out around him for more. As he's told to concentrait on the Bombers he peels back around and finds that Aola's already ahead of him somewhat, gunning it, he's no faster than the Reaper of course. Finding his new target he takes a bit more care, I mean it's a tie bomber, it shouldnt be that hard to take out right?

Aola's torpedo lights up the starscape as it plunges into the magazine pod of one of the two bombers, setting it off in a vast explosion - torpedo and heavy bombs alike go up in a monstrous detonation, throwing Bar'duur off just as he's about to take his shot, sending his shot slightly wide. Wodi, too, opens fire on the last bomber, but whoever's in that thing is either very good or has the luck of the Sith on his side. It keeps on, blowing past the fighters and heading on its slow and deadly course toward the Castle like inevitability.

Meanwhile, the Corellian corvette is losing, and badly. Though its turbolasers scar the Castle's hull, the larger corvette pounds the enemy's hull with its heavier guns and sends another pair of missiles plowing toward the smaller capital. One goes wide, clipped by an errant turbolaser shot, where it explodes just past the CR90. The other plunges straight into the ship's hammerhead bridge section, and it erupts like an overipe fruit. Now without a bridge - or much of an aft section - the ship begins to list, guns and drives silenced, lights flickering in the windows and across its exposed bay module.

Down in the hangar, Adhar sprints across the flight deck to the Blackguard, leaping into the Star Wing as he's preparing to launch; he bellows into the comms to the pilots of the microfreighters. "Go! Go! Mandl, Dosk! Get to that corvette, the slaves and spice are on board!"


At the order, One of Dosk's arms shove the throttle forward as two others hold the controls, his fourth arm hits the intercom "Engage!" he bellows out as the Codru Dream lurches from the hangar and arcs through space, setting up a B line towards the target ship at full speed.

Mandl likewise kicks out the stops, blasts the engines, and tells the 'droids: "R5, keep us steady. Set course for the corvette and go. J9, give Mandl the turret. Also cross your manipulators."

Aola's blasters miss their mark, but she's not done. Twisting the Avenger around she simply 'drops' the torpedo onto the bomber, barely banking away in time from the chain-reaction explosion. She's grinning, but she's already hunting the second bomber as she brings the agile yet noisy TIE towards the bomber and jams down on the triggers, blasting away at the second bomber with the green bolts of the TIE's laser cannons.

Mandl likewise kicks out the stops, blasts the engines, and tells the 'droids: "R5, keep us steady. Set course for the corvette and go. J9, give Mandl the turret. Also cross your manipulators." (re) The 'Liquid Diet' shoots from the bay, and Mandl says: "... did Mandl spend too much time on languages and not in the flight simulator? Let us see."

Now that the corvette has been beheaded, its listing, dying corpse is no threat; fires break out across its hull, waves of yellow-blue fire lick over its hull as the flames reach microgravity, washing rather than raging, scorching hull plating everywhere they spread. Clouds of smoke and waste vapor coil from the rents in the hull, and the drives are silent - and yet the are lights on in the ship, sputtering fitfully, but the power core isn't dead yet.

Meanwhile, the trio of interceptors buzzing around the Castle have made butchery of the slaver fighters. After unceremoniously dumping a torpedo practically into the lap of one of the bombers, Aola kicks a mean loop around to blast the remaining - and previously lucky - survivor through the back of its double hull, setting off the bombs that it even then had begun to prep for drop. It explodes, pinwheeling into the Castle's just-renewed shield bubble, where its remains are scattered to the cosmic winds. Bar'duur's guns remain out of alignment, but even then he has no problem herding the skittish slaver pilots with near misses.

Wodi, for his part, fails to turn his Preybird around in time to get a shot off on the remaining pair of TIEs with his lasers; it just doesn't move like the Avengers do, even with his skilled hands. However, it isn't too late for him to fire a missile, and his quick hands send the warhead streaking after one of the surviving TIEs. It cannot dodge in time, and it is reduced to an expanding globe of superheated metal as the last fighter struggles to keep control.

Finally, the freighters launch. Like oversized fighters themselves in design, the two rocket out of the bay, taking potshots at the last fighter as they go. While Dosk's shot goes wide, it is Mandl who inexplicably tires a shot through the engine cluster of the last TIE, sending it spiralling away from the Castle and its defenders before turning into a briefly-burning comet.

There are no more fighters now, just the swiftly dying corvette. Boarding actions, lives to save. Let's get it on.

Dosk misses his shot but continues on his course towards the incapacitated corvette none the less. His course does not deviate as he heads into the landing bay, dodging minor debris here and there. "I'm in" an extra arm reaches out to radio, another hitting the intercom to announce they are in process of landing.

Mandl, flush with success, perhaps comes in at a quirky angle -- in a shower of sparks the pilot winces as the Bith makes it into the bay, minus one... or two... semi-critical parts.

In the landing bay, it's chaos. Dead beigns litter the decks, crushed by fallen structural beams or smashed to paste by flying cargo boxes. As the two transports land, their cargo areas - the hatch of the Liquid Diet and the modified, pressurized cargo box of the Codru Dream - open up disgorge not only unarmed cargo techs but a small group of heavily armed troopers. Dressed in their blue jumpsuits under black armor plating, the troops are few in number, only four per group of spacemen - but they are hard as nails. The moment they hit the deck they begin to open fire on whomever dares raise a hand against them, blasting away slavers who stand, slump or fall across the decks upon whom they tread.

Over the comms, Adhar's voice sounds, apparently back on the bridge with all the fighters gone. "Gamblers, this is Dealer," he calls across the comms. "Fighters, keep combat air patrol while the boarding party proceeds. Boarding party, prioritize any slaves over cargo - we're here to save lives first, and make money second."

Odd thing to hear from a smuggler, but there we are. As the freighter pilots await their charges' return, the sounds of battle fade as the boarders make their way into the corvette's innards.

Another bomber down, Aola brings the TIE around after her latest kill and returns to formation, a smile on her lips. "Roger that, Reaper in position. We'll keep the fighters off your backs.""

Mandl grabs a pistol, for safety, and ushers the still-living into the expansive hold. "Come, come! This way to... not a sinking ship!"

Minutes pass, and somewhere in the depths of the corvette, the occasioal explosion sounds and makes life even more interesting. Five minutes pass, and something really terrible rocks the ship. "Boarders," roars Adhar over the links, "This is Dealer, what's happening down there? We just saw an explosion in the engineering section!"

"We're taking fire, Dealer," calls a woman's voice over the link, the sound of blasters in the background. "We've lost two troopers and a couple of crew, but we're getting out of here."

"And the slaves?"

"Yeah, we got 'em! But sir, what about the spice?"

"Damn the spice," Adhar roars over the link. "Get out of there!"

And so, they come. Fewer troopers, their dead left behind, and a few of the technicians emerge with blaster wounds. They lead a small horde of downtrodden, terrified and starved-looking sentients, all of them wearing simple coveralls, many of which have signs of whip-tears or worse as they shuffled past the transport cockpits and into their cargo spaces. A few minutes more, and the hatches seal, giving the red light of confirmation on the instrument panels of both ships.

"We're in, Dealer," calls the trooper over the link. "Let's get out of here!"

"Roger that," bellows Adhar. "Dosk, Mandl, all fighters, back to the ship! Go, go, go!"

As his ship fills up, dosk moves back into the cockpit, yelling along the way for everybody to board as he was taking off immediately." The cargo hold secured, he lurches the ship forward while strapping himself in at the same time with his extra arms. "Codru Dream is departing" He shouts into the com getting thrown back into the seat just as he clicks himself in, an arm reaching to hit the intercom 'We've launched, hold on!"

Mandl hurry, hurry, hurr-- barks into the intercom: "Mandl is full of slaves. Lost a stabilizer on way in. Adhar, please have that tractor-beam operational!" Klick-klick go switches and with a sick-making lurch, the 'Diet' clears the explosion by something less tthan a hair. Vomiting can be heard over the radio along with cries of "Mandl is sorry!"

All the cluckbirds come to roost, just as the remnants of the tortured corvette finally give way. While the transports enter, a series of explosions go off through the other ship, causing it to snap in half, barely kept together by the twisted ruins of the bay pod; one of the turbolasers go up, spouting a fountain of sparks and flame, and as the last fighter clears the docking bay they might well get a glimpse of capital ship's final death as the reactor and the fuel cells go up, converting it into a great cloud of flame and shrapnel whose death-flash lights up the hangar through the launching aperture.

After that, it's all up to the techs and medics. A flood of jumpsuited crew pour into the bay, seeking the wounded who are even now being helped out by the boarding crews and their fellow slaves. The swarm of activity here is just a condition of victory - its aftermath comes from the cries of some of the slaves as they are informed that they are going home, the whoops from the technical crew as they find their ships and pilots have new marks for the killboard without losses. It's a grand thing, this fight. You've all done very well.

And then there is the captain, who enters the bay and pushes past the knot of activity to head toward the ships. Adhar's expression is grim.

As the Codru dream lands, Dosk unbuckles himself and yells back to the troopers that loaded up in front with him to disembark, he follows slowly, the nub of a cigarra in his mouth, which he spits out on his own deck before heading down the ramp, taking a swig from his flask and putting it away as he hits the bottom, and moves around to punch in the combo to release the slaves loaded on the container his ship carries. Peeking in and ushering people out.

The fighters pull away from the exploding ships as the slaves are loaded up, Aola's borrowed TIE keeping tight formation as she smiles to herself. Good to see things still blew up just as much around other people as they did her. It was almost reassuring. "Reaper here, I'm clear. Heading back now."

Mandl exchanges back-pats and apologies with the freed slaves, until catching sight of the rear half of the 'Diet.' Then it rushes over with a fire-extinguisher! *FSSHHT, FSSHHT! FSSS-SSS!* A piteous groan escapes the ecologist as it eyes the 'overdone' engine-housing and ruined stabilizers, still belching sulfurous smoke into the bay. The R5 beeps a query? Mandl responds: "Yes, LR5H, I'm... absolutely certain... the festive 'confirmed kill' mark will paint over that. Not a being will notice." J9, ever the diplomat, suggests: "Perhaps a nice coat of dull grey primer, sir?" Mandl's wattles flatten.

And so, once you are all on - with Aola at the last - and on the deck, Adhar looks around at you all, nodding to himself, and then begins to applaud you. He just...claps. For what feels like minutes, though it's less than one. "Outstanding," he calls to you all over the hubbub going on behind you all. "Outstanding. Absolutely outstanding. We saved a lot of lives, and while we didn't necessarily make as much money as we want, we'll be able to still get a good amount from salvage. We'll start as soon as we get these people down into the assembly bay. Out/standing!/" Adhar just shakes his head, grinning widely now.

Well, there's a lot of cheer from the senior captain - you saved lives, killed the bad guys, and likely made no small amount of money at the same time. And hardly anyone died. "Well," he says, looking to Aola, "What do you think of us now?" He grins at her, confident, and doesn't need to hear her answer. He knows what she's going to say.

Damned fine day of work, indeed.