Log:Heliost Crew: It's like a spray bandage!
Heliost Crew: It's like a spray bandage!
OOC Date: March 15, 2022
Location: Thyferra
Participants: Zevin Daodhri, Teela Kloo, Amallia Madine and Fyrris Vochar as GM
It's been said by many that you don't breath the atmosphere of Thyferra, you drink it. You swim in it. The heat is oppressive, made moreso by the humidity making even crossing a room result in most species sweating. It's no wonder that most 'local' garb is little more than sheer material. Loose fitting clothes are the rule and it's not uncommon for it to be nigh transparent.
"Lose this case and we shan't have choice but to inform cousin Fyrris that he must bend his finances to the bounty that catastrophe should warrant. That is pure, uncut - six fluid ounces." Clad in flowing white robes that make his body a hinting silhouette, gently patting his own brow with a kerchief, Saturnine Vocahr, of the Zaltin Corporate Families looks on. A pair of guards in environmentally controlled armor suits watch with weapons held low - a third putting a case before the lot. Not very large either, almost akin to a document holder, four inches, by seven by four. Easy to lose, floating on a micro-repulsor screen.
"Naturally this could not happen in the city." in truth they were almost a kilometer outside of one of Thyferra's 'worker cities' where the menial labor and 'grunt work' was tended. None of the important work of the planet. Where the insectoid natives dwelled and crafted for the Cartels. "And you parking your 'craft' out here would have drawn attention. You need to get this off world as soon as possible." a look to the sight of one of the Star Destroyers visible above the world, even in the pre-dawn gloom. "Your destination will be revealed once the case is outside of the planet's gravity. Once it enters hyperspace your payment will slot. Toodleoo, good felons." and then Saturnine is walking away from the way he pointed they must trail, guards moving into escort positions around him.
Amallia Madine is standing with the rest of the Heliost crew as the mission is explained to them. These are always the riskiest sort of encounters, aren't they? Not the sanctioned, run-of-the-mill encounters you get on Nar Shaddaa or even Corellia. This is war-time smuggling. High risk, high reward, high tension, high drama, high heartrate. Mollie's eyes turn down to the case as it's set out in front of them and her head tips. "Is this some kind of joke?" she asks, motioning to the tiny little thing just before it's opened. "You can't be paying this kind of scratch for something so--"
And it's cracked open. Within it, pure and uncut. The stuff Thyferra is known for, and the stuff that those Star Destroyers are here to take. The stuff that people go to war for. Die for.
Her lips thin and the party moves off. She takes several steps towards the case and stoops over to clasp it shut, pick it up, and hold it in her right palm.
"Well... kark," Mollie says, and tips her chin up to look to those who have accompanied her. "Best get to it then. Sooner we get off this rock, the better," she murmurs.
It's times like these that Mandalorians whose suits aren't vacuum-sealed hate the most. At least the air is somewhat filtered.
Zevin Daodhri flanks Amallia in much the same way those two guards stand next to Saturnine Vocahr. He watches the dignified, robed fellow retreat, then tilts his head to regard the case itself. <"Well. 's not like we haven't run drugs before."> His tone is the only thing dry within a hundred kilometers. <"This is a mite different, though."> His helmet turns, the T-visor facing Teela. <"Least we won't stick out or nothin'.">
They're going to stick out.
<"Didn't happen to bring any sheer flowin' robes to look like a noble, didja? Bet they don't mess with nobles as much."> The fingers of his left hand stretch outward, ready near two different weapons. <"Well, here goes nothin'.">
Just along for the ride because how could anything go wrong on a planet that forces you to breath soup? Teela is very glad that her helmet filters some of this thick humidity out so she can actually breath, but it's not evo-sealed, so she's still feeling a little sluggish wading through the dense atmosphere like some kind of armored slothe. Her part in all of this is not one of spokesman, so she keeps herself back. One hand laid on the grip of her blaster laid upon her right thigh, cloak thrown off her shoulder to hang down near the small of her back.
There's a steady vigilence about her. Shifting to look over her shoulders. In a place like this, with people far more suited to the environment, it wouldn't be hard at all to get caught flat-foot.
<"People get hurt and they-"> Pointing up with her left hand at the looming shadow of a Star Destroyer blockading the planet, <"Aren't making it easy."> her visor snaps back to Zevin, shoulders cranking in a quiet laugh, <"Yeah, fit right in.">
The city looms, a fancy phrase for the sight of a duracrete hump like a gray scab soaked in neon and holo-lights advertising distraction and a place to spend those credits earned helping the Cartels continue to grow richer and richer. It's not oppressive, for the workers that is. Power is low cost, a boon when air conditioning is needed, food is decent quality, medical care is cheap and abundant. The benefit of living beneath the Bacta Cartels; minimum wage is better than in many of the core worlds due to the sheer wealth of the ruling classes.
The approach from the pick-up has several clear paths, one through the edges of a suburb becoming part of the outward sprawl of the city. A small industrial zone that looks like it constructs equipment to haul precious cargo, and the main road into the city - swallowing up the eight lane roadway within its garish depths.
There could be other paths, there could not be. But the lights of the starport are visible, like a finish line.
Mollie's feet carry her along the path and towards their ultimate destination -- those tantalizing lights of the Starport, where the Heliost waits, prepped and ready, for dust-off. It isn't long before the Heliost crew arrives at a crossroads, and the captain is sticking both of her hands into her pockets, still grasping that carrying case of pure bacta in her right hand. It isn't a -literal- fork in the road, but one that's more a branching point of choices. "We could make our way through the industrial zone... this whole thing feels scheisty, and if it goes to pot I'd like... well. I don't want anyone getting shot because of us. Still. Road through the city looks like it might be our clearest, most direct shot. The suburbs just outside might be a middle ground, but families live there," she says. And sighs. A look is given over towards Zevin and then to Teela as they chime in with their suggestions.
"Industrial zone, yeah? Some spots to hide. Off the beaten path. No one to get hurt but us," she says, and lets her right hand drop out of her pocket, zips it up, and rests her hand on the grip of her blaster pistol.
"We ready?"
Off the beaten path, sort of, a few tracks beaten down by repulsor traffic to a 'offload dump' in proximity the only roads into the industrial zone. Those dumps being basic duracrete slabs where parts, scrap or otherwise can be hauled off to the appropriate facilities. Presenting a diamond pattern wire fence at the perimeter, with large double gates with repulsor bulbs if no one is around to swing them open or closed manually - chained closed at their center.
Machinery meant for picking and moving heavy loads is visible, commercial grade rotators, cargo-speeder ports and more lit with dull red danger lighting keeping it visible for air-speeder traffic or points for direction - and what appear to be starker, brighter, lighting moving within. Night shift guards?
Zevin's answer is to start walking in the indicated direction. He rambles on their private channel, refraining from speaking aloud where others can hear. <<"Was thinkin' there might be a neighborhood watch. Best scouts've ever faced in battle. Call in enforcers lickety-split. Ever-watchin', ever-listenin'.">>
Though he's talking as they move, his attention is on his surroundings. As they approach the offload dump, he looks both ways, then through, the fence. <<"Think 'at movement may be guards. Wonder if we can hitch a ride on somebody unloadin' scrap here, get out incognito.">>
He tests the fence with both hands, then ascends it one hand and foot at a time. Rather than simply dropping down the other side, he lowers himself equally carefully. No 'thump' of hitting the ground.
With no immediate reaction to his arrival, he raises his left hand and gestures to advance. He eyes the padlock on the inside of the gate. <<"I'm shavit with locks. Teela, you got any game?">> He turns to keep a watch on the distant movement.
Teela eyeballs this chainlink fence, which shouldn't be a problem at all with all those handholds, <<"Yeah, let me just get over this fence.">> She informs Zevin and starts scrambling up the side. The obvious problem being that when she lands, it's not on the other side, it's on this side. With a loud clatter of armor janking around when one of her holsters gets caught in a link. So she's just sort of hanging there trying to dislodge herself.
<<"Just a second, we're still fine.">>
One big yank of her hip and she stumbles away from the fence, only barely catching herself from falling flat on her face. <"Another one of those nights, I see. Cool.">
Lights sweep and there is a vocal tone with a moderate up-tick, questioning, curious. The beam of a flashlight that starts to sweep in the wake of the fence rattle and the clatter of armor. A scuffing sound and then a sharper voice, a sound like synthleather striking duraplast plate and then a pair of raised voices lacking discernable words before lights swing away. Footsteps moving where the light points.
Fortune for the moment, though only one of the trio is on the right side of the fence right now.
Mollie turns to look at Teela as the woman starts to climb the fence in all that armor. She bites her bottom lip and even lifts her right hand as if to say 'oh, but are you sure?' It doesn't last, however. Surely the Mandalorian knows what she's doing. Sand Viper of Mandalore, after all. Wouldn't have gotten this far in life if she couldn't climb a fen--
Mollie's head snaps to the side when she hears Teela fall, eyes wide. She's half-squirming between that gap in the fence when it happens.
"Shhhhh!" she hisses. Helpfully.
The sound of those voices beginning to raise alarm makes Mollie push the rest of the way through that gap in the fence and she slides over to the lock, attempting to just open it. Nope. It's locked. "It's locked," she says to Zevin. Helpfully.
Whilst the others make their way through and over the fence, respectively, the Mandalorian in purple-black creeps forward on little cat feet. Such is the intention, at least. Avoiding the flashlights as best he can and minimizing the noise as he moves over the duracrete and dodges the waste metals, he is patient. When the guards seem too close, he goes still. When they seem to look elsewhere, he advances.
This particular game of hide and seek will continue until they reach the far fence, or until he is spotted or heard.
<"I know, I'm sorry..."> Teela says quietly to Mollie's shhhhhing her, hands up, waving over at the fence defensively. Then Mollie wiggles through the gap rather effortlessly, leaving the Mandalorian over on the wrong side by herself... with a lock still standing between her and a seemless entrance. Seeing as the blonde couldn't crack it, Teela takes a step back and scampers over the side of the fence. It's not as graceful as a majestic bird, but she lands with neigh a sound on the other side.
The lock remains untouched. Hanging there on the fence like the unmolested villain of some grand adventure with an optional boss that everyone agrees is too hard for the meager reward for slaying it.
Their path is pretty clear. get to the other side and try to get out of here... over another fence probably.. without being spotted by guards. So the Mandalorian Scout ducks behind some machinary to hide. Following the guards path by the beam of light that's directing them.
Another raised voice and a swing of a light followed soon after by a hiss of someone shushing. The red glow of the industrial sites lights is washed pink by the sweep of the beams and erased entirely. Another trailing on the wake of Zevin's movements, catching a flicker of a leg plate, a graze across a pauldron.
Another wordless mutter and a hushed response soon after. Some of the main yard lights glare to life casting daylight glare onto offline binary lifters and a repulsor crane while hurling inky black over a pyramid of durasteel tubes next to what looks like a laser cutter for tomorrows barrel crafting.
"Hey!" a voice calls out - in a thoughtless turn, the voice's source easily identified in a figure in helmet and chest armor - his radio still hooked over his left breast. The figure to the side more obscured but both with flashlights lifted and their blasters held low, rather than forward.
Civilian security.
"Hey come out! This is off limits!" further announcing their position.
Mollie is hugging the fence a bit behind the two Mandalorians who have pushed up and towards the far side of the compound -- their ultimate destination. She's watching in the dark, feeling her heart thumping against her chest at a quickened pace. It feels as if though it wants to climb up and into her throat, adrenaline pumping out and making the tips of her fingers tingle. Making her pupils widen, hungry for information. Hungry for stimulus. She catches the sudden turning of those flashlights and bites down on her bottom lip.
When that voice calls out, Amallia doesn't hesitate. Idiot that she is, she kicks off of that chain link fence and pushes both hands up into the air. "Alright! Alright!" she yells out, likely drawing a swivel of flashlights in her direction as she steps out of the dark and towards where the civilian guards have gathered.
"We don't want any trouble, and we'll be out of your hair in just a moment. My Mandalorian associates and I just want to get to the other end of your little compound and then we'll be on our way. Neat and tidy, mate. You've got my word."
She's doing it. She's really trying to talk their way through without lying or scaring them.
<<"Guess we're not murderin', eh?">> comes over the comms. Zevin's voice, still dry.
He moves his way towards where those guards are, through shadows (mostly) and quietly (also mostly). He hasn't gathered much attention, though he's not been a complete ninja.
From ten feet away, in a direction they aren't pointing their flashlight, the voice distorted slightly by the vocoder is flat. <"Yew should do what she says."> When the flashlights invariably turn to shine on him, he's got his hand next to, but not on, his revolver, and he's perfectly still. <"This ain't the kind a' action y'want tonight, son. Trust me.">
Well, they're focusing on Mollie. So Teela, who was already hidden anyways, slinks off around the back side of the machinary she was crouching behind. She's careful to keep herself out of view of the pair of guards, tracking him with her targetting augmentation in her helmet. Until she's in a position to his left and behind him.
RIGHT behind him.
The guard turns towards the sound of Zevin's voice along with his companion and Teela steps out to point he rblaster right up against the back of his head. The whine of the charging DL-44 power cylinder is pretty loud at point blank range.
<"That blaster whining is what this isn't a difficult decision sounds like.">
While it does spare some outward embarrassment for one, dark clothes and encased armor keeping the results of the pistol to the back of the one poor sot's head a secret - the other's reaction is particular noisome when the sight of the big revolver and the whine of the blaster cell are mixed for the sensory overload the guards are now experiencing.
"Look. We're just..." "I'm just..." "Hey we're just..." "Got kids to feed and..." "Don't get paid enough to..." "We just have stun bolts..."
Stumbling over each other as they try to talk their way through all this - flashlights dropped and one sparking before going out - the hands of the guards raised, palms up, shoulder height.
"Take what you want... we-" "We didn't see a thing."
Mollie's eyes turn to Teela as the woman lifts the weapon to the back of the terrified guard's head. The woman's lips briefly thin, but she turns those eyes back to the guards that stammer and explain, and the young pilot simply shakes her head and lowers both of her hands down, palms pointed towards the ground. "Shhhhh, shhhhh. You saw nothin', we saw nothin', everyone goes about their days. Sees their kids, yeah? It's okay. No one's takin' anything. We are leaving," she says. Her voice is hushed and quiet, and she's got her eyes turning out now towards the rest of the compound. Surely these aren't the only guards, and she'd like to make their retreat as snappy as possible.
She lifts her left hand to point towards the far side of the compound and then gestures with her right for the guards to scatter. "Get movin'," she says. When they do, Mollie Madine will make her way with the others towards the opposite end of the compound to make their way out and, hopefully soon enough, to the Starport.
Past the industrial yard and into the city, crossing a street and into the city proper - for those not used to this sort of world it's... uncomfortable at its most polite. Clothes are sticking, sweat is running, hair is matted down. Armor plating may look normal, but inside of coveralls are swampy, muggy, the sort of humidity that makes it feel like one has rainwater pooling in their boots.
It's just soggy clothes.
But maybe there might be enough sweat and airborne moisture to make it a half truth.
But the quickest route runs down alleys, where an errant pipe happens to be sticking out at the worst possible angle for Teela as they slog through the thick atmosphere.
"Kark, it feels like I've gone for a swim," Mollie laments. She's in good shape. Pilots ought to be. The run out of the industrial zone hasn't even winded her, even with her extra bit of durasteel from that CNG armor she wears. She does take some time to adjust the padding on her shoulders before slowly starting to step out onto the street. Some speeder cars move past, but for the most part, things seem pretty quiet. Pretty quiet, and pretty damn wet. Mollie pushes her hand into her jacket to make sure that their cargo is still secured. It is, and she lets out a soft sigh of relief at that.
"I think you made that guy wet himself. Not that anyone can tell out here, I suppose," Mollie says. She reaches up to slick some hair back out of her face.
"I think we just walk it the rest of the way, yeah? Don't need to run if there's nobody chasing us. Might make us -look- like we're carrying hyper-refined bacta to disseminate to the hungry and the needy," she says. She turns to look up and over here shoulders to the sky above. Somewhere out there is a Star Destroyer. The sith warfleet. The New Republic hasn't even shown up to help this place. Only Mollie Madine, and the only help she's done is make sure a few innocent guards didn't end up with their skulls caved in or singed to coal.
Too much private security. Zevin hoofs it on through the industrial district. Past idle workshops, locked lots, manufactories that currently are closed. It's hard to sustain this kind of pace, though, to say nothing of the armor and sweat in all kinds of terrible places, and he has to slow, catching his foot in a fence for his trouble. Yanking it free, he continues, though his pace is no longer a dash, more of a jog.
Close alleys, bad lighting, dampness everywhere. Getting further by speed is just too much - but the starport is close. Coming out into open air, where the wet slap of the night breeze can help cool one off. Traffic moves slow and the sound of security speeders headed for the industrial district can be heard.
The clearest paths stand as the road directly towards the starport proper, or more spaces between buildings.
Nope. Teela is all out of run. It didn't even take long either. About the time they hit the street she was huffing and puffing with all this armor, weapons, ammunition, and that helmet that really wasn't helping as much anymore. <"I can't farking breath..."> She's had enough. With a growl, hidden behind her durasteel lid, she turns towards one of the parked vehicles on the side of the road and stalks towards it.
A small file, a little jimmy, and she disengages the lock. Then slides up beneath the console, cracks it, and hooks it to her datapad to run a diagnostic scan on the ignition mechanism. Bing, pow, boom. Her helmet comes off, the A/C is cranked all the way the gonk up, and she pulls up on the sidewalk beside Mollie and Zevin.
"Come with me if you want to breath."
Mollie continues to move through the city streets until Teela decides that she wants to steal a car. The young woman tips her head to the side and watches the situation unfold while glancing towards where the distant lights of the Starport look close, but just out of reach. "Do we have to?" Mollie complains, but steps up and into the front passenger seat without much further complaining. If she must, after all. She slips one foot onto the ground and kicks the other up onto the dash, hands slicking more of that sweaty blonde hair up and back, feeling the air conditioning pour out onto her face.
"Ahhhhh karkkkk that's good. Gonna shower when we're in Hyper, yeah? Get all this sweat off me."
No alarms, no looking like they'd been sprinting - sweet cooled air an enclosed cab all the way to the starport entrances where local police watch the craft moving through - a small scanner waved but seemingly finding nothing, people on foot being scanned and some even being frisked before being moved along.
But there it is, the Heliost. Home free with the cargo tucked carefully away with Mollie and security behind them. Profit ahead. Security craft kept towards the entrance and exits and a sweep crew just moving down the ramp making notes on a datapad and sending a 'all clear' to turn up on the Captain's dossier and manifest when in proximity.
Thyferra... Karking Thyferra.
This is so much better. Zevin even takes off his helmet to get maximum air in his face, and to maybe air out everything under the armor. "This place. Man, nobody wants to fight a war here. What're the Sith even thinkin'?" He mops his brow. "Other 'an all the money, an' all the power, an' all the enemies dyin' a' lack of treatment. Karkin' Sith."
When the speeder stops in front of their ship, he opens the door, puts boots on the ground, and slams his door closed. He even hops to open Mollie's. "Keepin' up escort appearances. Don't get ideas 'bout havin' a perm'nent footman." He's still holding his helmet rather than putting it on. Off he strides.
By the ramp he waits until everyone else is aboard, steps on himself, and slaps the button to close the hatch. He crouches as it rises, until Thyferra is no longer seeping into his face. "We're closed up, let's get the hell out of here."
Mollie offers a wink towards the security member who gives the Heliost a clean bill of health and an 'all clear'. The man, old enough to be her father, looks horrified at the prospect and simply turns to walk away. She shrugs and moves up the entrance ramp and into the Heliost. <<"Sela. We need air conditioning on... absolute full blast," >> she says into comms, and mercifully, the sound of that HVAC kicking on is felt as well as a rush of cool air. She hops up the entrance ramp and moves all the way towards the fore side of the ship to begin flipping switches and kicking on repulsorlifts. The Heliost starts to whine as she dials a heading. Plots a jump, taxis the bird out of the hangar and begins to engage those thrusters from partial burn to full.
<<"A lovely planet, that. I was a big fan of the humidity. Quite tropical, you know? Good for my bones.">>
She pulls that package out of her pocket and sets it on the console in front of her, squinting at coordinates as repulsorlifts engage and guide the Heliost towards, and eventually out of, the atmosphere of Thyferra.
"We're looking at about a four hour trip back to Nar Shaddaa, everyone. Smooth sailing once we leave atmosphere, and about twenty minutes until we jump. Kicking on dampeners. Shower up, and someone get me a beer.">>
It's night and day what a difference a little A/C can make. There is no question whether Teela was in a miserable mood back in the before times, but now there's air conditioning and she's even managed to find a radio station that's not a bunch of Thyferrians chortling in 'wet'. She drives them through the security checks, drumming her fingers on the steering controls and angles them right over towards the Heliost where they can depart in relative comfort to the waiting bosum of security that is their home.
After retrieving her helmet, she walks up the ramp, and flings sweat from her brow off the tips of her fingers after sliding them back over her scalp. "There are a hundreds of thousands of worlds in this galaxy that I would love to see, visit regularly.. This is not one of them. If they grew pure beskar on vines that you could walk up and pluck like apples in an orchard, I'd still send someone else to harvest it for me."
She barely makes it past the hangar befores she's peeling off the suffocating armor segments. It's all well and good to die inside a durasteel shell, but it's quite another entirely to die BECAUSE of it.
This is NOT the way.
