Log:Hey Wyrm? It's Not Big Enough!
Gren has called as many of the Rebel Yellers as can be gathered on short notice, to the hangar on Nar Shaddaa. He's already dressed in his flightsuit, and seems to be handling a pre-flight inspection on the Last Call. She still doesn't look like her old self, but it is clear that he's been working on her. He looks agitated, and is bouncing a bit, as he hurries around the starfighter.
Sar Yavok makes his way slowly down from his private apartment that's overlooking the hangar, his hands tucked into his pockets. A looks to his partner and he begins closing the distance, saying, "Quit all that fidgeting. You're making me nervous." A hand digs into his shirt pocket and he pulls out a pack of Corellian cigarillos, holding the container out to Gren, "Calm your nerves."
Stavros is standing on one the downswept wings tipped with sensor arrays. He drops down on his rump, slides down to the plascrete floor, and approaches the A-Wing. Gren's twitches look contagious on him, too, but he concentrates on Gren's head for a few seconds, taking deep breaths. "Relax," he says soothingly, and he's doing more than just saying it.
"I'm not fucking nervous, Yavok!" Gren snaps, as his friend offers him a smoke. He waves away the pack, and looks at Stavros shows up, and tells him to relax. He does seem to relax, a it...but..."I'm bloody pissed. That fat slug, Wyrm....he put a goddamned bounty on me...on our business. Eight measley thousand credits." He glares, seemingly offended by the small bounty. He jerks his thumb back at Last Call..."Old friend who used to fly escort tipped me off to a little convoy out in the Taanab system. They'll be meeting a buyer, and I'm going to hit the bastards." A pause, and he smiles..."I could use some help."
Sar Yavok raises an eyebrow and offers a shrug, saying, "Well, it's not like shitting in a spaceship is going to net you half a million." He plucks out his own cigarillo and lights it, tucking the pack away. "You got any idea how big this convoy is? Or what they're carrying?" Sar's mind quickly turns to profit.
"Who gets out of bed for eight thousand on a hard target?" Stavros says incredulously. He scratched the side of his head, mussing a few blue hairs. "Skyclaw's in. I'll grab someone to pilot; I've got the guns. Mostly." He glanced at Sar. "Destroy or capture?" he asks.
"Nico didn't know exactly. He's going, which means a Headhunter or two, atleast. And he saw them loading up a few Ghtrocs. That's all the info that I've got, just now." There is a pause, and Gren shrugs. "They don't tell us what we're protecting....on account of we might try to steal it." Which is honestly a pretty good policy. "If we can get some of their cargo, I suppose we'll try. But, I mostly want to send a message. With missiles. Boom." A toothy smile at Stavros, and then he looks at Sar. "You ready to take Fireband for a spin?"
Sar Yavok takes a drag from his cigarillo, the lit embers flaring to life as air wooshes over them. A squint is offered to Gren as he explains the situation and the commander asks, "So this is likely to end up costing us more money than it makes us." A bit of ash is tapped away and he says, "Fine. Yeah, I'll get her prepped."
"Stealing sends messages, too!" Stavros pipes up. "And taking out any escort, they'll have a harder time hiring more later. Less profit. But I'll fire her up."
Sabella Lockheart has been half there half not there for a bit of the conversation it seems, a hand lifting to rub at her eyes a bit. Someone is still feeling a bit out of it, perhaps hangover like honestly thanks to a few drinks from the night before. Still she is /there/. A curious glance is sent to the three, pilot types. "So...what can I do to help out?"
"We'll bring the Jawa. If we can get them to dump cargo, she can scoop it up." Gren replies, after a moment of consideration. There is a glance at Sabella, as she speaks up, and he nods. "You can fly along in the Jawa, help if she gets shot up...operate the hatch, and the like. Good?" He glances at each of those present, and goes right along. "Good. Let's get moving." He heads for the Last Call, but if they need anything else, they have a few moments to ask, while he climbs the ladder to the cockpit.
"One minute. Snatching a pilot," Stavros says, darting over to the in-progress, makeshift room past the hangar. He is a few minutes in there before he's hustling a bleary-eyed human man with terrible bedhead towards the Skyclaw. The man is still tightening his belt when another emerges, looking much more awake. Stavros pops the side hatch, herds the others in, then follows, slamming the hatch shut behind him. In a few more minutes, the repulsorlifts on the Skipray begin to whine.
Sar Yavok nods to Gren and slides into the open canopy of the Firebrand where he begins flipping a few switches, making sure that everything is in its place. A thumbs up is offered to Gren and he taps a button which causes the glass canony to slide closed. He clips the oxygen mask over his mouth and sits, waiting for liftoff.
Within the gravity well of a planet in the Taanab system, but away from the populated primary world, there is an underworld going down. A pair of CR90 Corellian Corvettes hang not far from one another, while four smaller freighters are manuevering to dock with another. There are two Ghtroc 720s, looking like a pair of mating sea turtles, and a couple of old YT-2000s that seem to be uncoupling. A trio of Headhunters fly in what is obviously a defensive formation around the vessels, while a matching trio of Cloakshapes assist in making sure that nothing comes between this little convoy and profit.
It is very close to this formation that Rebel Yell's small combat squadron drops out of hyperspace. Last Call leads the way, burning fast toward the criminal formation. "Kill your engines, and surrender your ships, assholes. I've got a message to send to your boss, and we can do it the easy way, or the fun way." Open channel broadcast from Gren.
Haro Lux is one Besalisk who is not meant to be taken lightly. Serving aboard one of the CR-90's lovingly christened 'The Indominable Will', he perks up as the hail comes across his channels. His waddle inflates and a sneer twists across his face. One of his four hands moves to hold down the 'RESPOND' button on his captain's chair, and throughout Rebel Yell's forces, Haro's deep, rumbling voice simply states, "Well, then. I vote for the fun way."
Stavros is not in the dome of a turret with transparent walls between him and open space. No, he is in one of the gunner seats, relying on cam feeds, sensor data, and targeting computers when shooting things up. "Weapons online," he confirms to others in his ship. Over the Yell private channel, he calls, "Skyclaw ready."
"Understood, Rebel 3." Gren replies over the comms, as the A-wing streaks across the stars. It's large engines burn red, as he slews hard to starboard, and avoids incoming laser fire, courtesy of a pair of Cloakshape fighters. The defenders seem to be breaking, and searching for targets to engage, but the A-wing pilot is dead focused. He smiles behind his helmet, and keys his comms. "Here comes the fun way..." His squeezes the trigger on his control stick, and sends a burst of laser fire into one of the decoupling YT-2000s. It seems to do some damage to the freighter's shields, but not much else. A second burst of fire is much more deadly, tearing a nice chunk out of the ship's saucer. "Engage the freighters. They're carrying the good stuff."
"Rebel-2 in system," Sar remarks over the comms before shutting the line down and asking, "How's the fit back there, Rexie? All systems green?" The little green astromech perched behind his canopy whirs its head around and chirps a quick affirmative as Sar jams the throttle forward and speeds after one of the fighters that's beginning to scramnle. He does a series of tight turns and ends up on a Cloakshape's tail, but fires veeeeery wide.
Lofty the Talz in the Muurian Transport GLACIAL FLOE drops out of hyperspace with the rest of the junker fleet. He flips off his transponder with a claw and puts both big furry paws on the flight yoke, easing it down. "Glacial Floe here," he says as the heavily armed transport's forward triple lasers power up.
He remains in formation for the moment.
The Skyclaw is slower than the others by a noticeable margin. It's no faster than the Jawa. But it is making a beeline for the the Ghtrocs. First the fire from the laser cannon turret hits, but the shields don't even flutter. Then the ion cannons start their salvo, with similar result. The Skipray outright ignores the CloakShape that gets a few shots in on it in passing. It has heavy shields for a fighter, and evading means less time on target. "Come on," Stavros mutters, as he squeezes the fire control.
Physically, Ascalon is in present in the Jawa, but some part of his consciousness is present in the code of all the Rebel Yell ships. It may be why he misses: more likely even advanced combat software does not generate guaranteed hits. The turret burst fires upon one of the freighters but succeeds only in tagging void. His pilot, a rather chubby Sullustain remarks something in his own language that Ascalon does not catch. "Rebels 1-4, present and accounted for."
Sabella Lockheart has joined up with Stavros for this bit of fun, though she is only along to help with repairing his ship as she isn't sure how to use the guns. She shifts slightly in her seat to peer out and a faint ah escapes her before a slight cough escapes her. "Can... I do something to help?" Other then her hanging on for dear life at the moment.
The damaged YT-2000 seems to be limping out of the fight, but it is moving very slowly, and the two of the Headhunters slash in toward the Last Call, in an effort to protect the crippled freighter.
The CR90s' guns have opened up, and they seem to be spinning up their engines, but at the moment, they aren't maneuvering.
A pair of Cloakshape fighters are harassing the Skyclaw, buzzing about the slower gunboat, trying to maintain a missile lock long enough to do some real damage.
The two Ghtrocs have managed to uncouple, and their turrets begin to send ranging shots at the Jawa, as the engagement nears.
Fireband has picked up a Headhunter in pursuit, and Glacia Foe is also the target of a lone Cloakshape, as the defenders attempt to cope with the number of attacking Rebel Yellers.
Haro Lux adjusts in his captain's chair, propping his head up on one of his four meaty hands and sniff of derision is offered as the Yellers descend on his convoy. Boredly he states, "Cut the engines. Divert all power to shields and rain fire on these bastards. We'll wrap this up in no time."
Just as he commanded, the Indomitable Will comes to a halt and the turrets begin whirring into position, firing hefty bolts of plasma towards all and sundry.
Last Call is dancing through the engagement, spinning and rolling between the larger vessels, Gren is doing a fair job of avoiding the Corvettes' defensive fire, while focusing on the pair of Headhunters that are chasing him. He flips his little A-wing around in a tight figure-eight, and slashes in toward the nearest Headhunter. There is a wince, as he pulls the trigger, and his burst punctures the Z-95's shields, and turns most of the cockpit into a crater.
"Sorry, Nico. You really shouldn't've taken this job..." He might've just fragged the friend he got the info on the convoy from. Static fills his cockpit, and light flares on Delede's shields, as Nico's wingman manages to find a bead for a moment. "Splash One."
"Who knew this wouldn't be easy?" Sar remarks over comms, continuing to trail his target. He easily manages to avoid the incoming turret fire from the CR-90, but he can't get any shots on target.
"The shields look funny," calls the Skipray's pilot. That's always welcome news. "Shifting power to rear deflectors."
Stavros calls back, "Are you kidding me?" That was barely a graze! The beeping from his sensor readout indicates the threat: "Missile locking, go evasive! Sabella, we need more shield power, we need it _yesterday._" He swivels the turret back towards one of the CloakShapes as it makes its approach and fires, splashing across the shields again. He squeezes the fire-control yoke, sending lasers lancing in the pursuers' general direction, to no effect. The Blastboat makes an awkward-looking drunkard's walk, swerving back and forth.
Lofty the Talz steers his Muurian transport directly toward the cloakshape that has taken an interest in him. As they close the distance, the cloakshape fires and scalds his shields with laser fire. Lofty brings his own forward-facing triple lasers, which are awkwardly placed across the transport's front end, to bear on the cloakshape and fires multiple bursts. The enemy fighter explodes in a spout of gases and metal. "Got one!" he warbles triumphantly over the comms.
Ascalon seems to ignore the chatter, the droid abstaining from shooting in order to crank out more efficient firing solutions. Pathing the various ships of the enemy fleet, the droid brain feverishly calculating and processing the data the enemy unwittinly provides with every dodge and counter manuever. Their quarry is good...the data is not perfect, but it does supply some advantage. "Fleet requires additional networking capability. Must be able to transmit findings in real time."
Sabella Lockheart blinks hearing Stavros and is unbuckling the belt before she is off and looking oer the engineering console and is well a bit busy for a few moments to say the least. "Keep us in one piece for the moment please!" She calls out to Stavros while she is well busy to say the least while she works onthe shields to try and get the power up on them. Though yes it isn't an ease thing, and does take a few moments which with a worry ofa missle hitting them seems to take forever hoenstly. "Alright, that should work!" Hey she can hope...
The pair of Ghtrocs and the not-crippled YT-2000 are, at this point, heading for the metaphorical hills. They aren't that fast, but they could escape, if they remain unengaged.
One of the Headhunters remains in its dogfight with Last Call, while the other continues to hunt Firebrand.
Profit, the as of yet unnamed CR90, has followed the example of its peer, and focuses fire on the approaching ships, especially the Skipray and Dusty Jawa, as they are the larger targets.
The pair of Cloakshapes have turned their attention toward the deadly Talz and his Muurian Transport.
"Hit them!" Haro barks, slamming his heavy fist down on the arm of his captain's chair. The large Besalisk's waddler inflates and deflates as his eyes fill with rage. "Blow those junkers out of the sky or I'll rip off your goddamn arms!"
Re-charged by their captain's rage bellowing through their ship, the turret gunners on the Indomitable Will continue firing those huge plasma bolts through the vacuum of space with much vigor!
Delede, for his part, isn't terribly concerned by the scrub that is trying to latch onto his tail, at this point. His shields have taken a little bit of damage, but it is minimal. And the fighter isn't nearly as important as the bloody cargo carrying freighters. He whips Last Call around, avoiding the Incom starfigher making an attack run, and swings the nose of his A-wing over, settling on the undamaged YT-2000. He squeezes off a bright red concussion missile, and the warhead zips through space, and impacts the light freighter's engines, causing a relatively pretty explosion. "Scratch one ugly Corellian piece of shit..." is reported over the comm, as he banks hard to try and get a good shot on a sea-turtle looking Ghtroc. That warhead is so far off course.
"Fuck this. Rebel-2 to all, disengage current targets, and divert to attack these haulers. You want to send a message for Delede? Space their cash," Sar states, just before his shields flicker under the assault of the Headhunter! "Goddamnit. Rexie, get to work. I don't want to lose this ship on her maiden voyage." He speeds up behind the YT-2000 and sends burst towards it, missing his mark.
The Skipray is in worse shape. Still pursued by fighters, it is nevertheless moving as fast as it can in the direction of the Ghtrocs. They're out of range of the ions, for the moment, but the Skyclaw has other teeth: a proton torpedo flares forward, a bit slower than the missile that fires at the same time. The missile loses its lock and passes straight between the freighters, but the torpedo donates against one's hull, knocking out its shields and armament. But too many turbolasers find their mark, and with a flash of white, the Skipray loses its shields. "Sabella!" He doesn't really have to say what he's shouting about, as the warning beeps out and shields go down. Stavros finally finds the first Cloakshape with a few direct shots, and its cockpit is just gone. "One down! We can't take more than a few more hits like that, people?" Over the com, he says curtly, "Copy, Rebel-2."
Lofty centers the GLACIAL FLOE's forward cannons on the next cloakshape coming after him, blowing it to smithereens. "Fighter need to give fighter cover. Do your job." He says this over the communications array to scold Sar Yavok, then wheels his Muurian transport around to pursue the fleeing freighters.
The Jawa takes a few hits and its shiels flicker, but the shots it takes are not in vain. Spying the headhunter on Gren's tail, the battle droid swings the turret and lays a fusillade along its flight path, freeing up the A Wing. "Interceptor superiority restored." The droid calls out over channel.
Sabella Lockheart doesn't need to be told, nope everything around her is flashing warning lights and yelling at her. A half meep of a sound escapes her as she is left pressing at keys and buttons to make it work. "Oh come on!" This said with a huff and actually smacks the conscole, which seems to be enogh to make the shields flash back on... For now..
And, just like that....the fighter support for the Hutt ships is gone. No more Headhunters. No more Cloakshapes. And most of the freighters are dead, or dying. The Ghtroc that Skyclaw put a torpedo into is in the process of tearing itself apart, and the crippled Yt-2000 is still very slowly limping away from the fight.
The Corvettes have finally decided it might be time to get going, while the getting is good. They are slowly starting to head for the edge of the gravity well, but they were quite deep in the shadow of the large planet, and is going to take a bit of time. Their turbolasers continue to pump away, focusing fire on the smaller, more nimble military grade craft, at this point.
"Rebel Lead. Shields are down." Gren states relatively calmly, as Last Call flies into a turbolaser barrage. It isn't a direct hit, but the flashing of warning lights do seem to indicate a certain lack of protection. He had been in the process of manuevering to attack Indomitable Will's hammerhead of a Bridge, and despite the damage, it seems to have paid off. The starfighter sideslips another barrage, and fires a pair of concussion missiles that seem to be well-timed, and even more well-aimed. The first tears a hole in the forward shields of the CR-90, while the second opens most of the forward compartment to vaccuum, causing a rather rapid decompression of the Bridge. The Indomitable Will isn't going to be doing much of anything.
Firebrand, under the control Sar Yavok manages to put a missile of its own into the last of the Ghtroc 720s, and sends it careening off into space, clearly venting plasma and atmosphere.
Stavros insists, "Yes, the corvette that pegged us. The Abominable or whatever. Oops, wait- the one that's left." The pilot turns the Skyclaw from the freighters to drop to a ninety degree angle away from the freighters, avoiding fire from the turbolasers, until it's directly aft of the second corvette. Stavros persists in firing at the laser batteries with his dual laser cannon, trying to reduce the fire the Rebel Yell faces. It doesn't seem to work. But as the Skipray turns, it releases another missile and torpedo at the corvette. The missile hits the shield, but there's no discernible effect. With the torpedo, however, there is a flash and boom. Over the open com, "Your rear shields are down. Now would be a great time to abandon ship, don't you think? You'll make better messengers if you're alive." Stavros's voice is cheerful. Back on the Yell channel, he asks, "Gren, you've got a rapt audience."
Lofty pursues the limping freighter in his Muurian transport, firing several shots across its bow. "Drop cargo! Or die!" he says over the open comm channel. Unfortunately they keep running.
Ascalon fires a few more shots at the freighter, aiming for the engines but the turrets either can't punch through or just can't get the right angle so its shots ping harmless off the freighter's armor. "Jawa requires better ordnance." He notes dispassionately. "Whole idea of junk fleet to surprise with potency, not to actually fight with scrap." Clearly the tactical programs vexation is showing.
Sabella Lockheart is busy working on those shields, for not having them would be a reason issue a this point. She hears the talk over the comms, though lets them talk away seeing ow things are a bit more pressing for her. Shechecks a panel, and after getting nowhere finds what she is looking for. "About time."
Is murmured out softly and she connects a few wires and flips the switch. "Back at full Stavros!"
There is an explosion, as that last out of control Ghtroc explodes, sending debris and pieces of crew and metal all over the Taanab system...but, there is an even bigger explosion to come. Gren Delede flips his A-wing up, and over the first dying corvette, evading a handful of escape pods that litter his path.
The speedy starfigher whips under the last CR90, as it blazes away, and cuts his engines, and pulls up on the stick, skidding out from 'beneath' the capital ship. His weapons systems are all pointed directly at the large ship's unshielded engines. "Right. Thanks, Stav." He replies over the Rebel Yell channel. "This is Gren Delede. And I'm just here to show Wyrm what I thought of the paltry bounty he put on me. Someone give him the message, yeah?" And *Whomp* *whomp*, as the trigger is pulled twice. A pair of advanced concussion missiles streak out of their launchers, and right into the unprotected engines of the Profit. A series of secondary explosions ripple throughout the aft end of the ship, and hull plates begin to buckle. It isn't long for the world.
Sar Yavok has Rex transmit a series of images depicting what will be done to the crew of the fleeing YT-2000. It begins to slow, and the aft hatch opens up. A few crates fall out of the ship's back end. Who knows what's in them.
The Skyclaw has a grand view of the second corvette's secondary explosions, from its location aft of the engines. It speeds back up, aiming for a point equidistant from the Glacial Floe and the Dusty Jawa. "Well said," Stavros says on the private channel. "You guys brave enough to pick that up?" He pauses. "Are you going to shoot them anyway?" he asks curiously.
Ascalon brings the Jawa alongside the jettisoned cargo, utilizing a combination of tractor beams and his unnammed pilot's skill to bring on as mcuh as possible. Meanwhile he keeps the guns pointed at the fleeing ships, just in case. "