Log:New Republic: Hoghouse Hideout

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Hoghouse Hideout

OOC Date: December 5, 2020
Location: Taanab
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm(GM), Wahl, Rose Tico, Jax Greystorm, Sesti Greystorm, Nerys Greystorm, Tharyn, Lofty

Dusk settles over the outlying fields of Pandath, casting rich, amber hues over the rippling fields of grain. The dips and shadows are deepening with shades of purple. Somewhere in the distance, a light mist blows and that sweet smell of rain rides the breeze this'a'way. Silhouettes of drones continue to labor in far off fields while the bulkier shapes of harvesters have since slowed to a standstill. All is quiet. All is peace. Pandath, Taanab. Where nothing exciting happens, ever. Except for in the worst of ways, naturally.

Inside this hot, steamy, smelly farrowing barn, nightfall is a tad less scenic...

"Walloering in pig shavit...doesn't quite appeal to one's sense of adventure, does it?" CDF Pvt Tunis shifts his weight gingerly, crouched alongside a feed hopper. His boots squelch in a most appetizing way.

"S'what you get, when the General hears you whistle at her little girl," the trooper behind him nudges him in the flank with an elbow, casting a paranoid glance to their Military Commander of the evening. Amid other company.

"I didn't know that was--Y'think she heard that?"

His partner's silence is more expressive than words could ever be.

"Just figured it was 'cause my people'er from here," Tunis mutters under breath and raises his head for a cautious peek around the hopper, then toward the sound of a sudden squeal and disagreement among swine. Not so unlike his comrades in the mess hall when the last slices of pie are in sight.

"Your family emigrated when you were seven," Pvt Dorian hisses and slaps her visor down to study a new upload of data from their sister taskforce, thirty kilometers to the west. It contains?...nothing. Excellent. Feels like a supremely productive evening.

"Blood ties never expire..."

"Shut yer gob and c'mon. Time for another perimeter sweep. By your leave, Commander?" Dorian murmurs the latter into comms after marking time on her chronometer. They've been lying in wait for awhile and joints are getting restless.

Nerys, who had worn her good armor for a reason, seemed less worried than the two privates, perhaps, about the state of her boots. But then, it was quite likely that Nerys had placed those boots in much worse places than this. Bitty, who had released herself from her harness, was moving up amidst the rafters, her weapon held secured against her chassis by hands and legs, not quite patrolling, but more to give herself something to do. As for Nerys, she was standing by the side of one of the enclosures for the sows, watching her resting quietly while her piglets nursed. "I can't imagine so many at once." Said the woman who could not, as far as anyone who knew her could tell, imagine even one.

There among the pigs is Tharyn, apparently quite unworried about the size of the beasts - or their smell. His helmet on and optics active, the tall figure he cuts, earth-tone plates on green undersuit, squats by the pen while the porkers squeal and grunt and rut about. Old Imperial blaster rifle across his lap, pistol in his belt, a few grenade cylinders on his belt among the gear pouches and a jet unit on his back, Tharyn squats there in the way of one who's seen a great deal of soldiering - particularly shown in the way he can quietly while away the time as they wait. And there's just /so much waiting/ in a soldier's life before things explode. But he's so very, very comfortable.

His secret? Easy. The helmet's sealed. That's filtered air he's breathing, the cheating bastich. The stench doesn't exist.

Lofty the Talz got away from his job as a STAR TOURS captain for some militia work on Taanab. His previous shuttle was blown up over Gemdiver Station, so he bought a Wookiee-made shuttle with one working engine from friendly ex-slaves and landed it with a loud WHUGGA-WHUGGA-WHUGGA noise at the star port. They even threw in a case of discontinued Wroshyr Sapwater Splash Fizzade for the ride! Now he sits in a stinky barn with a bit of cotton stuffed up his proboscis to staunch the terrible smell. Taanab isn't at all like how Lando Calrissian described it in the Rebellion, always talking about the BATTLE OF TAANAB, but you can't trust scoundrel stories.

In the deepening gloom one figure walks on the road, slowly taking in the sight of the farm settling down for the night. There's great interest in the posture of the person who wears a cowl and cape of Senatorial uniform. The cape and tunic under it disguise the armor she wears, and her helmet is clipped at her side, under the cloak that ripples gently in the wind. Sesti carries her ornamental cane that Jax gave her when she was commissioned by the Gath clan for her position, and she seems to be very enamored of the way the farm lands are slowly shutting down for the night.

"Patrol on, boys and girls, and get a good look around with thermals or other optics. I once saw someone on Delaya use a stealth belt.. it like.. bent light around them.. creepy," Commander Rose Tico responded to the troopers. Integrated with the troops was an easier task for Rose who had started at the bottom of the totem pole and worked her way up. She still remembered being teased for burying her face in manuals aboard the Raddus. Knowing one's job always took precedence after all.

Rose did not conceal what she was. She wore a military uniform that was intended for field use. Her trousers were bloused above her boots, and her top had its sleeves rolled with the kind of NCO precision that suggested she spent time on making it look crisp. A shoulder-harnessed holster houses a heavy DE-10 handcannon against her side, and a sling pulled tight leaves a rifle unmanaged against her back. Rose even brought along her shock-prod /just/ in case someone needed extra motivation to get a move on.

She rises up with the other privates, but keeps her position while they go to move on. She leans against a fence and looks around. The smell? It's not so bad. She grew up on a mining world and sometimes sulfur was the dominating presence in the air. /That/ was bad.

The dim blue light from a datapad illuminates Wahl's tired face. The woman has been resting quietly for the past couple of hours. She has been all conversationed out by a day of trading information with local militias. For her, it's time to be patient and wait. The Republic agent has positioned herself a good distance from the rest of the group. Close enough to be able to move to help, far enough away to discourage others from trying to shoot small talk.

"Run another scan." She orders out to her metallic companion. "Upload the results to my datapad." Her fifteenth time asking for a scan to be had. The results are only given a cursory glance before she scrolls onto something more entertaining. "Nothing." The woman states blandly, verifying her expectation. As consideration to the scenery is given. A mumbled line manages past her lips. "Just here to fly the flag..."

Sitting not far from the soldiers discussing how Pvt Tunis whistled at General Greystorm's daughter was one Jax Greystorm. The jedi was sitting crossed legged in meditation with his hood up. He was making sure that he wasn't sitting in hog muck. He'd been quiet for sometime, his meditation used to block out the uncomfortable stinch or rather to focus on something else. His voice was barely over a whisper but loud enough to maintain noise displine, "General Greystrom has cybernetic hearing. She heard. This will be a blue milk run if Commander Tico hears you breaking noise discipline."

At Roses orders about using thermals. Jax shifts and moves into positon to do just that. Though he may be touched in the head as tries to see something. "NOpe Commander, too many pigs and manure to get a good read with thermals. It's too bright."

The Roba sow that Nerys keeps company heaves a great sigh in her semi-slumbering state, twitching a hoof in response to the greedy snouts rooting around her teats. One hazy grey-blue eye rolls awake to level an apathetic stare on the stranger by her stall. A lazy grunt and waggle of tail says this isn't her first foray into motherhood. Or eighth, probably. She's a beast of a sow and the wear on those nubby tusks protruding from under flabby lips suggests she's no spring chicken. But she does her duty, this fine sow soldier, so soldiers like the two-legged variety milling around her barn can enjoy fattening breakfasts and sizzling suppers.

A spontaneous blast of warm, fetid wind from under that wagging tail speaks for her level of enthusiasm. Truly.

Indeed, there is a LOT of thermal action happening in here. Solid shapes, gaseous clouds, residual warmth in recently abandons wallows...so warm. There are a LOT of shapes to process in here, too, being as the barn spans a whopping fifty stalls from front to back and ten rows across. It's a small farm. Hence the vulnerability. Somewhere in a pen to himself in a far corner is the proud papa of all these piglets. His stall is a /tad/ more reinforced, but the occasional *THUMP* can be heard against his steel door.

"Sir," "Ma'am" the two Privates address Rose simultaneously. CDF...emphasis on the 'C'. They're trying, though. As ordered/excused, they vacate the barn promptly and begin a steady, searching march around the barn's exterior. It isn't long before one of them spots Sesti's form walking along the road and an alert is sent over Comms. <<Body on approach from the East.>>

Nerys, who, to outward appearances, seemed entirely content to watch the miracle of life playing itself out, was, nevertheless intent on awareness of the bar and the area in which they were waiting. Something brought her attention up, her helmeted head angled a few stalls over from where her new piggy friend was doing her duty. Her voice came across the comms, "Commander, movement, a few rows over my current location. Shapes coming out of the flooring. I wasn't aware there was basement in this facility. Voices, hushed." Nerys was already in motion, lifting her weapon as Bitty hovered down moving to try to flank the position Nerys was heading for. Her own weapon was brought up, held shotgun style, braced by her smol droid legs. "Bitty makes two figures, coming out from the floorboards."

"C" can stand for courage, too - especially what with buddy over there whistling at the General's daughter. Tharyn can't help but chuckle to himself inside his sealed sallet helmet - that woman looked like she could eat that poor militiaman, use his bones for hairpins and his sack for a changepurse. And now they were guarding her bacon. Well. Not /her/ bacon, but she damned likely gets a share after this little favor for the folks down here. It's a well-geared little unit down here, even a proper ground officer in attendance. Tharyn feels rather like a fifth wheel.

But on the other hand, the Senator asked him to come and show off his doin's, so his doin's he will show. One last check over the rifle before it is slung, and Tharyn gets to his feet - just in time to hear a bump behind him along the barn wall. A panel slides open. Outlined in computer-boosted gloom, a small face peering in from the gap there. << Better come around the front and explain yourself, kid. >> His tone is calm, accent plantation genteel but with the faint internal sigh that spells out 'you damn kids'. Then over the comms: << Possible tango entering the barn by sliding panel, south wall, looks like a child. >>

Out on the road, Sesti pauses in her perusal of the harvesters that have slowed and stopped. The dust has almost fully settled, now, except... Swinging her can over the back of one shoulder like a dancer about to lead the Chorus Line, she peers at some dust being kicked up down the road. She takes a small communicator from her belt, and says quietly, "Some dust rising in the distance..." she pauses and glances about for her bearings "...south." Then she clips the comm back on her belt, and then walks across the field, swinging her cane lightly like a dandy out for an evening stroll through the fields, her path heading towards a point in between the approaching dust and barns.

Rose's datapad vibrates and she unclips it from her belt to look at the dimmed screen. Her eyes widen and she orients herself to the correct direction of the incoming issue. Triggering her encrypted comm-link by pressing a finger to her ear, she broadcasts to all the callsigns in the area,

<<"Everyone.. we have two fast moving speeder trucks approaching from the south. They are /not/ on an unimproved road, they're going cross-country. One appears to have a mounted technical on the back-- a big gun; the other is hauling a trailer! Find cover and orient yourself to the South if you can. This could get ugly.">>

Rose has not drawn her weapon yet. Perhaps this is a misunderstanding and it's a pair of farmer joyriding across country.. with a trailer, and a heavy repeating mounted weapon? These are hopeful thoughts, but they are weighing more and more toward the weary side of caution.. that /maybe/ she ought be ready for combat.

She holds out against her better judgement wanting to believe in the better side of people. Leia taught her that. Rose moves out into the open prepared to stop them /should/ they reach this point, and negotiate..

When Nerys' transmission comes over the line, Rose pivots in place to look in the direction, but she does not falter from her place. <<"Be careful. We are in an area that is frequented by civilians. Establish positive identification before you use deadly force.">> Which meant asking: Do they have the means to harm you, do they have the intent to harm you, are there no other options available but violence?

Then there's a call about a potential tango that resembles a child?! Rose's hands come together nervously as everything seems to be popping off at once. She keys her comm: <<"I repeat my last for guidance. Establish positive I. D.">>

Rose looks south again and waits. Nervously.

Jax was staring at three hogs at him or rather behind him. "I really wished I had leraned to communicate with animals." Is that a thing maybe it is. "The hogs are staring at me. This weird." Then Sesti and Rose are telling him about incoming dust clouds. 'Alright, becareful and may the force be with you.' He says to Sesti on his com. The jedi reaches out to force to gather around himself as his hand slips to his lightsaber. He moves with the group preparing.

BA-HD's menacing red eyes scan the horizon another time. The droid lets out a chirp before engaging its distorted vocoder. "There is a suspect. North. They are moving behind the farming equipment." It rises from its crouched position with its integrated stun rifle at the ready, waiting for the agent to join it. "I will investigate."

The red-headed agent quickly kills the screen on her datapad. Her facial expression widens with surprise. She pops up alongside her metal companion. "We need to get them before any of these goons kill them first." Wahl draws out a golden blaster pistol from her duty belt. "Come on." The agent orders, figuring that the droid will fall in behind.

"Hey! You!" The loud woman calls, unaware of any other threats on account of a muted comlink. The blaster is waved about in display, making it apparent that she is armed. "You by the wall, there! You're tresspassing, halt!" She ambles forward. "Republic Agent! We need to have a quick word!"

The dust cloud on that horizon remains thin but continuous, maintaining present course northward, toward this roba breeding facility. The height of surrounding grain fields obscures any visual reference from ground level of what's /causing/ the dust cloud, but it doesn't seem to be the whim of the wind, which is gently blowing in a contrary direction. Safe to assume it's those offroading vehicles that Rose alerts personnel to. Surveillance readings will pinpoint them to be 2.2 kilometers to the south-southwest and closing. They don't seem to be in a supreme hurry, but aren't tooling around, either. It's a steady, casual, confident approach.

Rooftop weaponry tends to instill a sense of confidence. Naturally.

Inside the barn, activity's become a little closer to home. There are, in fact, two bodies emerging from the floor in a conveniently empty - nope wait, there's a smallish, unbred sow in there - stall. Basement? If only it was that roomy, under there. The two scraggly forms don't bother to swipe the dirty hay from their heads, just sneak on down the line, seemingly unaware that they are being tracked but obviously aware enough of the interlopers that they themselves are /trying/ to be quiet.

"Shh" one such whisper goes from the smaller of the two miscreants. Followed by a quiet "ow" when that pinch lands home. Not the voices of hardened pirates, perhaps. There's a little more commotion among the stalls now though, as the livestock suddenly decide that something or someone is worthy of their attention.

"LIKE HELL, old man!" The face from the barn wall rejects Tharyn's invitation and retracts from its would-be point of ingress, only to find themselves cornered from the backside by Wahl's shouts and approach. The whites of their eyes betray their urge to run but the moment of hesitation is there to exploit while options are weighed in an unfocused hurry. Are they gonna run? They might run.

Meanwhile, CDF Privates Dorian and Tunis have concluded that the figure they saw on the road is, in fact, ally and not one they've been tasked with stopping. So their circling of the barn resumes, eventually bringing them up along the southern face with their Commander to track the suspicious vehicles.

Nerys and Bitty did not stop their advance, moving to bracket the two who were inside the barn, "I'd think about making use of your mouths for something other than throwing insults," offered the armored woman, her tone entirely casual, quite unlike the bowcaster, which she had leveled at the pair. Bitty, as well, kept her blast aimed at the two who had come from the floor, "So this is what I suggest you do. First, tell us who you are, and second, tell us why you're sneaking into this barn in the middle of the night." Beat, "I also suggest you do it as quickly as possible. There is a time limit on these...negotiations."

With the kids duly intercepted and technicals on the road, Tharyn does the thing. << I'm going to set up an ambush, >> he instructs the rest. << Gonna get on the side of the road and gum up that turret. They'll have to get out and clear it, so be ready to hose them down when they do. >> And with that he's running, charging out of the barn - and up, a burst of blue alcohol flames helping him make a parabolic jump high over the fields; then he lands, he lands hard, but the descent is more than controlled enough that he can deal with the shock. It only takes a few seconds, but then he's in the deep wheat, pulling a cylindrical grenade from his belt and preparing to twist its plunger. Staying low, watching the technicals approach through low-light sensors.

<< Corlas here, >> he reports. << In position. Will give the word once the target is ID'd and the turret gummed. >>

Seeing the commander and two privates forming up to intercept and angles her path more towards them, coming to stand with them. She has a grim smile and nod to Rose, "Commander, good to see you." Her tone is as light as her posture, with only the tightness of her smile to give away any tension as she takes a step forward and plants her cane, stacking her hands on top like Willy Wonka as she watches the cloud of smoke coming closer. Then there's a slight commotion behind her, and she looks back, then up, as Tharyn vaults over them, so to speak, and lands up forward in the wheat. She cocks her head slightly to the side with interest, but remains still, waiting, gaze returning to the incoming dust cloud.

"Come on? What're you doing back here?!" Wahl continues to shout at the young trespasser. "Just hold it right there." She orders with a lower volume, dropping the muzzle of her blaster to the ground in a show of good faith. "It's just a goofy kid." The woman whispers over to her LE-VO partner. "Boy, just keep those hands where we can see them and there won't be a problem!"

"I'm going to get him in binders before we have a conversation." The agent says to her companion. "Watch my back. Shoot him if he gets testy with us." She adds with a smirk, assuming that the child is going to continue to stand still and comply.

The woman starts to stall out as she gets closer. Her eyes linger over the figure. She spots a toolbelt and instantly becomes cautious. The loud and confident respose rapidly disappears. "Kid. Put those hands up and face away from us."

Jax looks to watch Wahl arresting kids and shakes his head under his hood. "Poor kids. They picked a hell of a night to pull a prank." Though he falls silent. He reaches into the force preparing himself for what comes next. His hood falling back and he nods to his wife as she join the group.

"Tarsi, no, wait!!!"

Tarsi, third generation roba wrangler, will not be cowed by threats from these outsiders! She is small, perhaps eight or nine years old, but she has nerves bigger than the eldest sprout in her clan who's currently being apprehended out of sight. And for sure bigger than her middle brother, who's frozen on the spot, presumably in the crosshairs of Nerys' bowcaster. At least, her choice to bolt /seems/ bold. Might be she's just running sca---scared, but not stupid.

Latches are knocked in her passing, opening several stalls of nursing swine which begin to trickle out and clog the corridors with their large, lumpy ambling. And chaotic scurrying. Piglets. Everywhere. Underfoot. "RUN, JAFAN!" she cries out to her brother who's just advised her against such a tactic. She's making a beeline for the boar's pen, far in the back.

One day she'll be a great strategist.

The maaaybe teen facing down Wahl and her LE-VO finally gets wise and complies with the order to put his hands up and turns around to face the wall. He looks up to the sky - the darkening shade of twilight - and then to his chronometer. It's a big, chunky, fancy device for a kid of his stature and status to be wearing.

Right on schedule, the trucks are lumbering nearer to their desired destination. The armored and armed truck is in the lead, plowing down previous food crop as it goes, making a road for the truck'n'trailer speeding along behind it. It's closing in faster now, favoring speed over caution. Half a kilometer out. Forty seconds, tops, before the wheat will part to reveal a robed diplomat and her dapper cane. Or a hidden ambush of GOO.

"And //that// is how you end up with one less kid in your crew," offered Nerys, as she saw the girl take off running. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back. And if you think I won't shoot you, or her, you are sadly mistaken." Nerys, while she was no lawman, that was true, had not married a bounty hunter for nothing, and she reached into a pocket of her armor for a pair of zip-binders, which, unless the kid forced her to shoot him, would apply the binder to him. "Bitty, get the girl. If she resists, shoot her. We have a medic on hand." The droid, who was already zipping after the girl, was not at all encumbered by the pigs who were being let out of their pens. She darted forward, single eye glowing its usual angry red as she zipped around, catching the girl and pushing forward to jab the blaster in her direction. The message was clear. 'That was far enough'.

Yeah, the sound of the fleeing livestock behind him and the speeders ahead make it clear tht these fools aren't here for maintenance. << Corlas here, >> he calls over comms, a bit louder in anticipation of the impending bedlam behind him. << Trucks inbound, and they don't look friendly. Glopping the technical! >> And like that he's up and thumbing the grenade's plunger, hurling the dull metal cylinder at the speeder; it barely makes contact with the windscreen before internal pressures burst its casing, throwing a puke-tan cloud of foam across its surface, a foam that instantly hardens into a solid mass on contact with the air. Tharyn's already on his feet and reaching for his belt as the truck plunges past, ready to intercept the transport with either another grenade or the stun pistol on his belt. Depends on if they try him. Whoever 'they' may be, naturally.

A speeder bearing down on her with a top mounted heavy artillery doesn't make the Zabrak flinch, but her husband suddenly stepping up to her side without warning makes her shoulder jerk ever so slightly. "Did you dance on the piglet's backs?" she asks him in droll recovery tone, then nods as the truck is clomped. "Stun only," she suggests/questions Rose before she takes one more step forward and raises her voice. "In the name of the Senate of the New Republic, dismount from your vehicle with your hands raised. You are trespassing, if you do not turn your other vehicle around and leave there will be consequences."

As the agent approaches the child, her weapon is holstered and a set of binders are drawn out. "On your knees. Keep your hands in the air." She orders, grabbing his left arm as they fall. The woman aggressively yanks the arm of the boy whilst simultaneously throwing a cuff over his wrist. "You are being detained." The young man is almost knocked to the ground after Wahl grabs the other arm and brings it behind his back. "Do you have any weapons?"

Her hands reach down and systematically pull each tool from the kid's belt, tossing the potential weapons on the ground. "What's this all about, bud?" The expensive chronometer is stripped from his wrist with a haphazard pull. "Explain this?"

The clatter from upfront grows.

"BA-HD." The redhead calls after the sound of vehicles and shouting wrap back behind the barn. "Cover this kid. I'm going to check all of that out."

Jax looks back at the stables, "No but it sounds like somebody relased a whole herd of the swine." Jax says as his hand reaches for his saber then and takes it up. Then there's the flick of the switch extending his blue saber blade. Sure it lit up the battle field and made Jax a target but it also gave him a bit of his own authority. "I would recommend doing as the Represenative asks, respectfully. It seems like a prudent decision. We all wish to go home safe tonight."

The armored speeder truck explodes forth from the wheat at breakneck speed! Or so it might seem to those are eye-level with the thing, in danger of becoming road kill. Fortunately, it is blindsided by a very sticky situation and the adhesive grenade rapidly consumes its front end. The vehicle swerves violently and comes to a grinding halt, as two heads and two blasters emerge. The turret up top is having....difficulties. Muffled sounds of frustration are definitely audible from within.

The truck behind comes to an immediate halt, turned sideways to provide cover when the bodies inside come piling out. Two, is all. And one of them....

One of them might be disappearing into the wheat. Change of heart? Change of tactic? Change of ---

  • PEW*

Change of status. With the weak link in their crew no longer threatening the chain, one among the rustlers shouts back. "Consequences if we DO leave, too. I suggest y'make it worth our while, gilded tongue. What's a half ton of fat back worth to ya?"


The speeder trucks don't suddenly pull a reverse and peel out of there, but there's definitely a deafening pause of action behind/inside those trucks. You can almost hear the gears turning in their brains. "Y'think it's worth /that/ much to /us?/" Questions a voice from up on that turret, aimed down and inward. He isn't immediately shot, so there's a possibility that the driver is considering their situation and reconsidering their evening plans.

Meanwhile INSIDE the barn, the roba are having a ponderous mutiny of sorts. Without the kids' prods and shouts, they aren't exiting the compound in as orderly or swiftly a fashion as the plan called for, but they do start to emerge and generally be 'in the way'. A few disappear into the wheat, one ignorantly toward the very truck that meant to thieve it, so might be the rustlers aren't going away completely empty handed. The Boar is listening to the unfamiliar voices and shouting and commotion of his ladies making their escape and he is NOT PLEASED. The thumps against his door become more persistent. More violent. The latch has a hook through it to semi-lock it in place, but with every THUMP of his battering-ram head it jiggles ominously.

Jafan is doing his best to hold back tears as he's apprehended and zip-bound by the mean lady Nerys. His eyes are on his sister and her halted progress. SO CLOSE to the boar's pen. So close. When her flight it intercepted, Tarsi wields the only weapon she has. TEARS. It's an exceptional pout face and might be more believable/endearing if there wasn't so much HATE shining through those little blue eyes. "You have to let me go!" she commands the droid, staring down its blaster. "OR ELSE."

The kid outside, presently watched by droid, isn't talking. There's a similarly spiteful glaze to the moisture in his eyes as is reflected in his baby sister's.

<Prepared to engage fire on your mark, Commander> Pvt Tunis says as she and Pvt Dorian kneel at the ready, weapons drawn.

So what's it going to be? A battle of words and will? Or Blaster Bolts.

Nerys, having secured the kid hand and foot, propped him up against the wall, "If they start trampling you, well, sorry about it. Bad night to be a rustler, kid." Nerys rose, calling on the comms, "One secured, going to get the other." She frowned, considering her options, what with the mess and the sows and the piglets everywhere, and she jumped, stepping up onto the top of one of the pens and making her way from pen to pen as she headed towards the girl who was now sobbing. Bitty, of course, did not seem at all phased. If anything, the smol droid's finger tightened on the trigger, red eye flashing. "I don't have to do //anything//" Nerys offered, as she came up behind the girl, "But you, are going to put your hands up, or I'm going to start losing my temper."

Tharyn, not remotely believing that the other truck's going to stay in place, rises from the grass - and chucks another grenade, underhanded, toward the floating transport. But what /should/ be an easy shot is made tricky by the repulsorlift carpet beneath the transport...and the grenade goes careening away, into the vicinity of the fleeing pigs off to the right of the transport. Suddenly, there is pork. In dubious aspic.

<< Well, frassic, >> Tharyn mutters to himself. Hope the boss wasn't watching.

"It appears you were not listening very closely," Sesti calls back, her voice unruffled. "I said New Republic Senate, not First Order. That means we are not for sale. We will protect the interests of this farm, and you would be wise not to test how well we will do that. There are more of us than you can see, and your inside cohorts have been apprehended." She shifts her position a little, standing up straighter and lifting her cane to point at them. "Go back where you came from. Leave the pigs..." she pauses for the briefest moment as Tharyn succeeds in apprehending the fleeing piglets, "...here"

Wahl wanders around the side of the barn with a slow and cautious pace. The woman leans around the corner to spot the confrontation and associated mess. She listens carefully to the noise coming from inside of the barn. Her gaze looks back behind her as she makes a decision.

The agent doubles back towards her droid and the captured child. "We need to get out of here with him. You and I can't take what's out there and that militia is wanting to have a bloody chat with them." A sigh is given as she thinks it over one last time. "Let's go. Back that way." A gloved finger points towards the horizon.

"Drag the kid. It's a long jaunt to the shuttle."

"You speak of Consequences of leaving. What are they? Perhaps there is something that can be done. The one that just shot another man, will be remaining unfortantely. I'm afraid we must all answer for our actions and there is a New Republic Agent will like to speak with him. Also please drop your blaster to the ground and any other weapons." He's trying to ignore the fact there is not a pig squawling bloody murder cause it's now stuck to ground.

"Name's Sham," not-Sham offers a bogus name in futile attempt to thwart this Republic agent's efforts to get to the bottom of why he was mixed up in this foiled roba thievery. He's twelve years old, so might be he's dumb enough yet to believe that will really prevent her from getting to the details later. It's just prolonged the process!

Jafan and Tarsi aren't being much more helpful inside the barn, but they aren't running(anymore), at least. Rather than useful words, they are producing sniffles and tears, with Jafan having a little more composure now to at least ask "What's going on out there?" He'd heard the blaster shot and he's old enough to recognize it for what it is. For the first time, there's a sheen of fear in his sister's eyes.

"GRENADE!" one of the rustlers in the lead truck shouts as it goes sailing by, towards her comrade in the truck. But then it falls short and a bark of nervous yet derisive laughter can be heard. Patience is wearing thin on all sides - the commandos are getting restless and itching to fire and the pirates just wanna get paid. Ultimately, their best odds of that are to cut losses here and make them up elsewhere! So they do.

The lead truck suddenly revs its repulsors back to life and does an abrupt about-face to hightail it outta there! But not without a parting shot at the trailer-towing truck, which hits its mark neatly in the engine. In order to facilitate their own escape, they've sacrificed one of their own. Another one, that is. The remaining driver of that trailer is forced to flee on foot, having no desire to rot in a Republic prison for purging a fellow thief. The truck plows at full speed in the direction whence it came, two heads poked out the window with armored arms upheld to ward off wicked lashings of wheat. The stranded rustler launches in a different course, abandoning the wounded vehicle to be a temporary shield between self and the farm defenders.

Nerys and Bitty, neither of whom let the girl out of their sights, literally, lead her back to join the other one, "Out there? Sounds like the friends you were working with are having a harder time than they expected. But that's not what you need to be worrying about." She indicated the rear entrance to the barn, "You're going to walk out to the back door and you're going to pretend that you're happy to do it. I don't think I need to elaborate on what happens if you decide not to comply. You really don't want to make the droid angry." Whatever else //was// actually going on outside, well, someone else would have to deal with that. As for Nerys, she spoke into the comms, "I have two that need to be secured. We're coming out the back way."

Having put a pig in aspic and Jax running like a force-driven juggernaut for the truck, Tharyn decides to make up for his momentarily weak throwing arm. << I'm on him, >> he announces, pointing at the fleeing rustler; taking a run he leaps off the side of the road, his armored jetpack spitting blue flames again as he soars off toward and over the man. He draws the stunner on his belt in one smooth movement, and spitting a cone of bright blue light drills him in the lower back to one side. Immediately collapsing, he begins crawling, where Tharyn - still airborne - activates his helmet lamp to illumination his quarry.

<< Stop right there, >> he bellows from his helmet speakers. << Or I'll shoot you again. >> I mean. No point in lying, right?

As the lead truck spins around to escape, Jax takes off on foot at a full run. The force flowing through him as he moves faster than any human had a right to move. He leaps on the back of the speeder truck coming into a crouch. His saber extended behind him as he holds on, "Hello there. I was not joking about earlier. Now I recommend stopping the speeder and surrendering or I will disable the speeder myself. We will crash and I cannot garentee that you will not be injured. This is the way of things. The force is my ally and I will be fine, will you?"

Who's ready to make a deal? This guy. The pirate crawling through the wheat as waves of energy numb the frak out of his nerves along the left side of his body finally stops his futile efforts at escape and rolls belly up to stare at the rocket demon hovering above him. Maybe he can rat on his friends? Revisit negotiations? Yeah, maybe.

Jax's quarry is not so amicable to a surrender. There's a great deal of commotion happening inside, some shuffling around of bodies, before one set of hands keeps drive half blind through the field and another is leaning out as far as they dare into the abusive lashings of wheat to fire toward the pest attached to their rear. They've got nerve yeah, but definitely less brains. "For your Republic!" she shouts and after three half-ducks back inside from consecutive WHACKS of stalks to the back of the head and shoulders, she manages to get off a shot with decent aim. Amazing aim, considering.

"Get us OUT of here!" she roars at the driver.

"I'm ff--can't SEE!" the driver roars back.

And then, true to their fortune in this night's affair, there's a problem. A harvester-sized problem, to be precise. The sleepy hulk of equipment is peacefully idling there for a night's recharge and does not give way to the out of control vehicle OR its visually-obstructed driver.

Suffice to say, the chase is at end. A very mangled, messy one. The shriek of rent metal-on-metal rises high enough in pitch to compete with the squealing, glue-gooped roba.

The children are escorted under arms by Nerys out the back of the farrowing barn, where Tarsi eyeballs the boar's jiggling latch, but a touch from her brother's hand stays her impulse. Like he knew. Might be because he'd had the same thought. But in spite of the immediate threat that this woman and her droid seem to impose over them, they are being rescued from a worse situation, possibly. The sun will come up tomorrow and maybe things can be okay again.