Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 22, 2013 13:03:19 GMT -8
Chiala and Saris would find the rest of the shuttle, a short distance away, nose first, the closest point six, eight meters away in the bottom of a nearly thirty meter crevice. The tree-tops, all along their journey from where the two of them had found themselves, were battered and torn where the shuttle had crashed it's way through the canopy, littering the rainforest with chunks of debris, and now they found the end point. The wall of the crevice was battered and broken, revealing fresh rock and dirt, and the port-side wing, sheered off - or, maybe, torn off violently, like the rear chunk of the shuttle had been - was wedged awkwardly, half in the rock, half in a broken tree that hung over the shuttle's bust open rear end. Fires burnt all around, and thick smoke curled up at them.
~~~~~
Inside the shuttle, and Kythis still hung, tense, unmoving, focused ahead. He had been watching, hearing... sensing the events unfolding between the Omwati and the bundle of nerves that was Felia, and suddenly caught the sensation of another mind. Anita was waking up.
She's smart. She's smart, she might know what to do.
He twisted, trying to look over and forward to where the clever young girl sat.
=Kythis Seiro=
"Anita?"
~~~~~
The power cut, and the Omwati blinked at the crumpled panel. The girl apparently had some talent, after all.
=Captain Telen Zax=
"I think you got it..."
He swallowed, blinking deeply as he breathed a calming breath.
She might have been young, and maybe not much control, but if she could do that to a Mando's helmet, they might think twice about this whole affair and kriff off back to their dirty little hole of a world.
=Captain Telen Zax=
"Do you think you can climb down here, and help me find something to get free with?"
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Felia Reksira
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Post by Felia Reksira on Jun 22, 2013 13:58:47 GMT -8
She looked up as she heard Anita's voice in the darkness above, a sense of relief washing over her as she heard another of her friends regain consciousness. She sounded okay if a little shaken, voice strained slightly but clear and precise. Felia's thoughts went to Brakus as Kythis responded to the dark-haired girl but her attention was drawn back to the cockpit as the injured soldier spoke, weaker again and tight from the pain.
"Um... I can use the cable I think."
She reached out tentatively with her right hand towards the cable, averting her eyes from the bright flash and agonising death that her panicked mind foresaw. With a pathetic little dab she slapped her open palm against the dangling lead, turning her head to look with wide-eyes amazement to see that it had not, in fact, fried the limb upon contact. She smiled, smudged face lighting up with the expression, a beacon of hope wasted in the shadowy confines of the wreckage. Still, the flash of optimism that drifted through the Force may aid the others in exercising a bit of faith in their endeavors as they each dealt with their own horrors of the situation.
With a deep breath she reached out both hands and, as the cable swung back towards her, leaned out to grip it with both hands. She leaned too far and too fast, her bum slipping off the edge of the door frame and dumping her into midair before she had a solid grip. Her heart skipped a beat as she dropped, rough cable slipping between her hands as gravity took hold, burning her palms and fingers with the savage sting of friction. It was all she could do to tighten the grip and arrest her fall so instinctive was the desire to let go, self preservation insisting she distance herself from what was causing her pain. In this case such an act would have led to her death, or at least serious injury which, in this case, would likely mean the former anyway. With gritted teeth and a strangled gasp she hung on, her plummet slowing enough that she managed to get her legs in a position to use the back of the chair below her to further slow her momentum. She bounced off it, legs jarring slightly, and swung backwards in the silent gloom, eyes locked on the source of the tiny light, using it as a beacon.
She looked up, just about making out the hatch in the darkness as a darker shadow among the shadows, ruthlessly pushing down another stab of fear. Swinging her legs she kept the momentum of her swing going, pushing herself forward towards the light. Her hands throbbed with pain as she release a little to let herself lose a bit more altitude, bringing her level with the light. She could make out the soldier now but couldn't focus on his too much such was her concentration on her acrobatics. She tried to draw on the Force to help her but was unable to do so in such circumstances, the necessary quietness of mind lacking in her at this time, the riot of thought and fears turning any thinking into a chaotic maelstrom of consequences and calamities.
Finally she swung over and hooked her right foot around the arm of his chair, lowering herself a bit more to provide slack so she could pull herself closer. She didn't think it was a great distance to the front of the cockpit but she wasn't about to take the risk, making sure her footing was stable before she dared release the cable. The viewports had been smashed and dangerous shards of transparisteel were strewn everywhere making it a dangerous place to fall. Everything was barely visible in this gloom when the torch wasn't pointed towards it and, after a quick glance around, Felia turned her attention to the soldier.
Standing on the arm of the chair, left arm cradling the back of it, she now looked down into the pain-filled eyes of the Omwati soldier, Telen Zax.
"Oh my..."
She gasped out the words with a slight breath of air as she saw for the first time the metal shard protruding from his chest, slick with his blood. She began to tremble as the full horror of the poor mans situation hit home. Despair raised its head again as she stared in dumbfounded shock at the sorry state of the man before her. She lowered her eyes and shook her head, hair fanning back and forth across her face.
"I'm sowry..."
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Brakus Sev
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Post by Brakus Sev on Jun 25, 2013 14:50:43 GMT -8
A shuddering cough that caused wracking pain to sear through his body was not the most pleasant of ways to wake up from the distant slumber of the unconscious. He spent a moment wishing he had not woke up at all as feeling rushed back into his limbs, even the vague discomfort of pins and needles burning with searing intensity. His head throbbed, feeling about five times too heavy for his neck, lolling forward with his hair hanging down his face. His eyes blinked open but didn't really see, the darkness he was shrouded in making it hard to differentiate whether he had actually parted his eyelids or whether they remained sealed like a blastdoor in a hull breach. The disorientation he felt did not abate as he regained some measure of composure, the sensation of hanging forward confusing him for a time. It was only with an analysis of the sensations around him; the safety harness biting into each shoulder, his legs dangling straight out in front of him, arms hanging limply, that he realised he was facing down and anchored to his seat by said straps.
The numbness in his extremities started to abate as he wiggled his feet and hands carefully, attempting to get the blood flowing again. He wasn't sure how long he'd been hanging there but it obviously wasn't long enough for any damaged to be done. His head hurt badly though and he was sure he had cracked it on the metal bar to the side of his head rest. It was obvious that the ship had gone down, considering his current position and the lack of mechanical noise. He remembered the yell for evasive maneuvers from the cockpit before everything had gone dark for him and assumed he had been knocked out around that time. The side of his face was wet and sticky, not a good sign, and his vision, such as it was in the murky gloom of the passenger cabin, seemed intent of fading in and out from shadow to deep darkness.
"Hhhh... Hakkcha.."
The effort to vocalise made him cough and splutter again, his ribs stabbing nastily into him, whether from actual damage or from the strain he wasn't sure. His throat felt like it has been used to channel a death Stars superlaser, the burning sensation making it feel raw and abused. With an effort bordering on the heroic he tried again.
"Hak... hello?"
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jun 27, 2013 10:51:06 GMT -8
=Mace=
Break port! Break break!
With the near-instant reflexes of an ace pilot Wurk threw his own fighter on its port wing, arcing away from a head-on crash with the X-Wing that loomed out of the murky air. Nearly clipping his enemies starboard wing, he too corkscrewed away erratically, tree's flashing to his left, then overhead, as he spun around madly.
Mace's voice growled over the comm, icily calm after the initial shock of the encounter, stating intent and directions to his vod'ika.
=Mace=
Continue around and drop behind them, last know position. Keep current velocity and maintain arc come around on a reverse of our original heading. This atmosphere will make it difficult to keep line of sight so keep an eye on sensors and pay attetenion to headings.
Both fighters curved away swiftly, tearing through the hammering rain to loop around to where they first encountered the two X-Wings, their computers painting a line on their HUD's as to the projected vector of the Jedi fighters. |
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Crevan
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Post by Crevan on Jun 27, 2013 13:10:26 GMT -8
Agony.
That was the only word to describe the twisted, mangled position Crevan woke up in, his heart pounding away painfully as the realness of the world slapped him across the muzzle, jolting him awake from his stupor. His legs were twisted over a chair, his face flat down on the cold floor: a small river traveling the metal to soak his whiskers. He couldn't even pull himself up: he had already tried once, terror and embarrassment governing his actions as he realized that his right arm, smashed flush against the wall of the downed shuttle, was useless. Any attempt to move it resulted in stars dancing across his pink eyes, the pain exploding like a concussion grenade at point-blank. How did ... what happ- ...
He recalled the shuttle being hit. Starfighters screaming outside the viewports. Shaking, lots of shaking ... And him flying. He hadn't been strapped in. In fact, as far as his dazed mind could remember, he had been sitting in the rear of the craft. From what his blurry vision could take in, he was far closer to the front now. The tree tops on the way down must have catapulted him into every bulkhead as they broke the impact speed of the shuttle, until he finally landed here, stuck because his arm was ... Was ...
" Brok...en?"
His voice cracked as he tried to form the words. His tongue was unbearably dry, the least of his worries as the dawn of knowledge made his eyelids snap open in panic. Crevan attempted to force himself up, only to again feel electricity tighten his muscles to the point where he was screaming. He yiped in an animalistic way, his tail curling up behind him and remaining close to his body, whimpering and panting to try and alleviate the rabid thoughts in his head of gnawing at his elbow until the sharp throbbing went away.
His arm felt broken. His saber arm felt broken. The one thing that he was useful for, the one thing that set him apart from his class, now a horrible mess of swollen muscle. He thanked The Force that at least his fur hid most of the damage, wondering if he could at least keep the injury a secret. His teenage mind, even in a situation as bad as this, was less concerned with escaping from the shuttle crash and more on what his classmates would think if they saw bold, proud, heroic Crevan unable to even hold a blaster. The idea of being mocked, of being seen as lesser, traumatized him.
His ears pricked upwards, twitching as sound finally registered. He could hear Felia, and Anita ... Kythis [he scowled] and Brakus was there too ... And why did Chiala sound so very distant? Had she gotten away? And yet came back? He couldn't help but wonder if it was only out of her own selfish need for protection in order to find the way back to the Temple (for where else would they go?). But ... No, her voice ... His sensitive ears picked up her tone. She sounded ... Worried.
That was odd. What was odder was that there was a voice missing.
Lillia ... Need to move ... need to get up ..!
He tested his left hand upon the floor, his bruised legs slowly untying themselves from the seats and coming to rest on his knees. With a heroic effort, his stronger left-side pushed himself up off the metal ground, snarling again as his right arm moved slightly. He was crippled. Dear Force, he was crippled. Weakly, he curled his elbow up to his chest, devolving into a more primal state of mind as his tongue flicked over his fur where the pain was, trying to soothe the ache. What he didn't see was that his stark-white fur was covered in blood: the remnants of a cut that had opened up just in front of his ear, matting his fur down on the left side of his face in sticky, coppery liquid, giving him an almost feral appearance.
The torment wouldn't stop, though. He knew he'd have to swallow his pride on this one and rely on his classmates. Remembering how he had treated some of them, as inferiors, though ... He hoped that perhaps they might have learned a bit more on how to be a better Jedi than he had so far. His ears remained focused outwards of the Shuttle, despite the abundance of noise and movement coming from within. The others were slowly coming to the aid of their classmates, but they needed the rest of the group intact. They needed Chiala and Saris to help them out of this mess.
" Chiala!" he cried out, his body tensing as the strain in his chest caused his arm to tense once more, " Chiala, we're over here!"
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Ander Tagira
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Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
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Post by Ander Tagira on Jun 27, 2013 23:56:58 GMT -8
LA-AT/i outfit "Able 3-1"
100 Kilometers North-West of Mandalorian Camp
Yunteh Mountains, Yavin 4 Sergent Decklan was pissed. They'd spent five minutes with the damn ship before declaring her time of death, not even giving a chance that she likely had days of flying left in her. And now they were lost, stuck up in the mountains, if you could call them that. They were more like insanely large hills, with loose dirt and rocks everywhere you stepped, and everything was...wet.
Javir Decklan was a Corellian spice smuggler before he'd ended up in Ander Tagira's little operation on Yavin 4. Stuck on the moon for six months after his vessel had crapped out, Decklan had enlisted with the Yavin 4 Defense Force and started life anew as a Private. He'd gotten close to the guys in his outfit, in his company, and hadn't wanted to leave when Tagira jumped ship. But he hadn't had a choice. Damn near his entire company had jumped ship with him when he left, signing on for commando training after the word got around about GALSAF.
Decklan thought they were up for a whole new slew of adventures.
And where did he end up? Kriffing Yavin 4.
Son of a kath hound, Decklan thought for the hundredth time. He was pulling trail for the outfit, with their squad leader, Gunnery Sergent Deck Garson running point. They group filed silently through the drizzling landscape, the crippled pilot kept closer toward the middle of the line for safety and accountability reasons. The squad was making South for the river, which most of them remembered had run for several klicks before splitting off toward the three different temples in the area. The Great Temple was the obvious goal, though it would also see the most activity, and without contact with friendly forces properly established, risking exposure had no advantages. Garson planned on making it to the Woolamander Temple at least, where they would hopefully be able to maintain a comm connection with GALCOM for longer than a second or two. It had taken five minutes of back and forth with Foreserjent Duntas before she'd even been able to decipher who Garson was claiming to be. It had taken another five just to confirm the security words for the day.
Bee's...knees? Who had even thought of that?
Decklan shook his head, hefting his rifle and actively scanning about before proceeding forward once more. So far the wildlife had given them little trouble, though he didn't expect that to last. Running into Jedi forces was their biggest worry, however, so they kept low and slow, and moved only under cover or darkness. Already they had been held up for hours by over passes of Jedi air support, or due to open fields or clearings that left them too exposed in daylight to risk traversing. The men were more than ready for a fight, but it was looking more and more as if their caution was paying off. The better shape they were in when they rejoined the main body, the better they would be for the fight.
The Sergent's train of thought was rudely interrupted by a distant curling of smoke a ways over the far canopy of the forest. The outfit was coming down from the mountain slopes, and therefore had a much better line of sight on their surroundings. Decklan brought Garson up on comms.Smoke ahead, what do you think, Gunny?Not sure, could be a crash, like ours.Baker One-One, you think?Pffft, a new voice entered the conversation, Not a chance. I saw what happened to their Larty. They're all gone.Camden, shut up or I'll put a shiv in your willy.Roger that.Garson, it could be a Jedi crash.Would that explain why they've left the thing to smoke instead of bother hiding their position?No, but them all being dead would explain that just fine.We should check it out. If anything there could be good commo left we could use to contact GALCOM.True. Estimated distance...seventeen klicks. We should be there by nightfall. I'm reassigning maneuvers now. Standby.Roger.Decklan's HUD flashed, the "revision" icon for the map overlay was blinking. He activated it silently and watched as their previous plotted path vanished and reappeared in a different direction. Seventeen klicks, and hopefully they would find commo and some better med gear for the pilot, Santana. Decklan shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck, hard to do under the armor. He turned and made his way into a deeper section of brush, making for the woodline further down the Southern slope of the mountain from where they were heading. The outfit would continue on line to the woodline before rallying for accountability and vanishing into the forest.
Decklan just hoped whoever they did find at the probable crash site was friendly, or already dead. For their sake. |
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Corr
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Post by Corr on Jun 28, 2013 14:16:49 GMT -8
~ :: Where the kriff did they come from!? ::
The element pair of Captains Jaimse and Raques tore by the Mandalorian fighters without daring to look back, their astromech companions screaming useless warnings as to the proximity of the enemy craft. The storm seemed to have dulled everyone's senses and sensors: the opposing flights didn't even realize they were on top of each other until they could have seen every nick and scar their strike craft carried from the battle before. The X-Wings were fast to respond, knowing that they were caught in an extreme disadvantage at the moment.
:: Orders? ::
:: Take my trail. Don't split up, they'll overpower us one-on-one. Set cannons to converge at two-hundred meters: let's see how they like a little up-close-and-personal gunnery. ::
:: Aff', Antilles Lead. Let's clean some house. ::
The green-and-gold-checkered fighter at the front of the dangerous duo slammed his throttle forward, propelling the fighter violently through the turbulent air of Yavin IV's thunderstorm. The deflector shields of the craft did their best to not stress the metal frame of the tiny ship from being slammed against wave after wave of air, the pressure building up at the nose of the XJ7 until a deafening *BOOM* echoed across the grey skies. Toni Raques followed close behind, her own X-Wing breaching the sonic barrier just as easily.
Most pilots didn't understand exactly how to dogfight in atmosphere. It was a completely different experience than the norm, where space could be sliced through with nary a care. Atmo resisted. Atmo fought back, oftentimes fiercely in its intent to not be parted by a piece of screaming durasteel tearing its delicate molecules apart. The pilots of Yavin's Starfighter Squadrons had run more than enough drills on many of Yavin's moons to understand how to operate in different types of air, and so knew how to compensate for the fact that now they would run the serious risk of blacking- or redding-out during high-stress maneuvers.
With this in mind, Ehrik had done the smartest thing he could think of: the two greatest assets when dogfighting in atmosphere were speed and height. Each could be substituted for the other: a climb would decelerate a fighter, but put it into a more strategic position to dive. Conversely, nosing down sacrificed height, but added considerable acceleration to allow a pilot to pounce upon his prey. The Mandos had wheeled around: a turn. Turns drew away from total speed. In doing so, they had already given up one advantage. Ehrik had plans to seize both from them in one, fell swoop.
:: Darklighter Lead, Immelman. I'll Split-Ess. Put out a call to any nearby patrols: we're going to need back up. ::
The call for aid to any fighters in the vicinity was met swiftly: one by a recent name-maker for her actions in defending the Moon during the initial invasion, and one that the Captains of Antilles and Darklighter Squadron said a silent prayer for the fact that he was available, and only a few minutes out. Lieutenant Doran, by a stroke of luck, was only one minute out, tops. The Mandos were going to be in for a big shocker.
The best way to approach an incoming attack in aerial combat was to turn into it: this served two purposes. One, it helped level the guns for what was -- usually -- a straight shot. The second was in closing speeds: forcing an overshoot, especially for the slower, weaker fighters such as the X-Wings in this engagement, allowed them to make the enemy respond to their actions. It was far harder to react whilst sky-jousting than it was to be the aggressor.
Yavin Fighter Pilots were well known for their bold, almost reckless aggression.
With this in mind, Toni pitched her fighter upwards, killing her speed a bit to climb above where the Bessies were last projected by their scanners to be, altitude-wise. Ehrik rolled over and threw his X-Wing to the ground, the duo completing their loops to bring them back around at different heights and trajectories. It was as much a defensive maneuver as it was an offensive one: The Mandos wouldn't be able to bring all of their firepower to bear on both fighters simultaneously, whilst the Yavin pilots could angle their respective climb or dive to put their targeting computers on whatever unlucky Mandalorian ace was at the front of the element pair.
That was their plan, their shielding already being set towards double-front to absorb the first pass. They were knights of the air, their lances primed and ready to kill once the distances closed. High-speed was maintained, seeking to unload as much as possible on the initial run before turning-and-burning with the deadly MandalMotors designs.
The prologue to this dogfight was going to be one hell of a display of laser fire and missile trails.~
=Mace=
Straighten out and prepare to fire at will.
This was said two seconds into the horizontal circle they were attempting to complete just as they passed the halfway mark. A double click sounded over their comm unit as Wurk acknowledged the order, forging through his own turn, mirroring Maces fighter as they both sought to come in behind the Jedi. The air around them was infused with the cloud-strewn air of the storm, making visibility nil and forcing them to resort to their scanners. Even they were vague at best, electrical interference from the static discharges in the roiling clouds around them, coupled with the interference from the fleet battle the previous day, making their sensors unreliable as they faded and hiccuped madly. The red dots of the Jedi ships blurred and jumped across the displays in their visors making it difficult to predict where their enemies would appear.
=Mace=
Coming around... Stand by...
Forward laser cannons primed, torpedo's ready, the Bes'uliik dropped its left wing tip, leveling out from its heavy lean and assuming a horizontal profile again. Likewise Wurk dropped his own fighter onto Maces port wing, roughly three fighter lengths apart to avoid resenting one profile. They cut speed by a third and prepared to settle into the kill zone should they have outwitted their Jedi counterparts.
They assumed nothing however and with that in mind...
=Mace=
Be prepared to break should this not go our way.
They could have done the same, Mace thought to himself as his thumb hovered over the trigger, the tension building steadily, demanding a release. he thought was fleeting but noted, only a half dozen second having passed since they had begun their loop around. It was impossible to think quickly enough to anticipate every eventuality but his mind did note that they could be coming around on a head-to-head, something that made him smile, his faith in his ships superiority over the Jedi's making him rather smug.
Another click over the comm as the man with few words again signaled his readiness.
They scanned their sensors, willing the red blips to resolve themselves into a more accurate reading... |
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Post by Chiala Yvarro on Jun 30, 2013 12:01:19 GMT -8
*Medkit. At his words, Chiala glanced briefly, only briefly, at the Sakiyan before directing her gaze forward again as they pushed through the blinding storm and jungle foliage. Even though she was certain dawn had broken the sky, the clouds above were black. She could see glimpses of them, now that they had stumbled onto the broken path of the shuttle crash and the thick canopy above their heads had been sheared away. But it was nearly too dark to see much of anything else. She could not make out Saris's injuries in this lighting. But she could hear them. She could hear everything his body was fighting against.
Her antennapalps twitched and rotated between her soaked dreadlocks, rainwater dripping down them and over her pale brow to run into her eyes. She did her best to rub the moisture away in irritation to clear her vision, not that it mattered. She was moving almost entirely based on what she could hear and what plantlife she could sense around her. She didn't know how Saris was moving, but he navigated as easily as though he were walking a paved path on a clear sunny day.
There were more voices now. The recognizably youthful pitch of students, in pain, full of fear...moans, pleas for help, pleas for someone to be there to respond. She started to move faster, her heart pounding, the aches and pains of her own body suffering from spice withdrawal momentarily forgotten as adrenaline rushed through her at the sounds of those traumatized voices. The other students. Classmates. Teammates. Survivors.*
"It's okay, it's okay, I can hear you-"
*In a blind rush of speed, Chiala broke through the tall palm leaves and choked off an uncharacteristic squeal of fear, waving her arms in circles to keep herself from tumbling off of the precipice she had just nearly plunged herself headlong over. She managed to stumble back a step and fall to her knees, gripping the broken edge of the wall nearly overhanging the chasm in which the shuttle was lodged nose-down into, heavy rain, broken rock and debris falling down into the abyss and backlit by the small fires that the storm had not yet managed to extinguish.
The sounds of the Balosar's cursing echoed eerily off of the battered walls. If the acrid smoke that choked the air around them impeded her lung capacity in any way, there was no sign of it from the vehemence in which she swore. But then, she could probably take a lungful of exhaust and still call it cleaner than what her home planet had to offer.
The only thing that stopped her was catching the sound of her own name. Her antennapalps immediately rotated forward, and she leaned more fully over the edge.*
"Hold on, Crevan, tell everyone to just hold on!"
*Her magenta eyes fixed on Saris, looking as sober and focused as they ever had since her arrival on the jungle moon.*
"We have to get down there, pull them out..."
*She searched the surrounding area, but almost all of the surrounding plantlife had been ripped or burned away.
Above ground, that is. She stared down at her hands, where her slender fingers were digging into the freshly turned soil. Roots. Plenty of deep, ancient roots coiled inertly beneath them. But just the idea of using the Force again after having been drained made her want to vomit. She panted for air.*
"Last resort. Last resort, Chiala."
*She was not in this alone, she had learned from this mission that the others could be relied upon, too. Free the survivors first, worry about getting them out of the ravine after.*
"Can you get us down into the shuttle, Saris?"
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Saris
Member
Posts: 74
Affiliation: Jedi Praxuem of Yavin IV
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Post by Saris on Jun 30, 2013 13:24:24 GMT -8
His keen eyes studied the edges of the ravine from within the depths of his calm, and foot and handholds seemed to jump out of the rock face at him. He had learned the hunting technique years ago and used it on many occasions, but the things it allowed him to do as if by instinct were still sometimes unbelievable to him. It won't be easy. The rock will be slick and dangerous, but maybe... "Yes, I think I can."
He could clearly hear the voices and moans and struggles of all those beneath them, and the thought occurred to him that even if they got down to them, there was no way to get them all back up and out of the ravine. It skirted along the edge of his calm and battered at it with panic and worry, clashing against the need to survive as it tried to claw its way into his mind. He knew he could not carry all of them back up the ravine, he wasn't even certain he could manage the climb alone, and that need to survive was the only reason his calm had not shattered.
There were scents rising out of the ravine as well, aromas of blood and death and fear, but also those of the students themselves. He could smell the rodent, Crevan, almost immediately, water mixing with fur and creating that unmistakable aroma canine species were so well known for. The scents of the others were less pronounced, the normally soft and cautious scent of Felia had turned to one of desperation and anger while that of Brakus had become laced with worry and pain. Kythis was there too, and as it always had the scent of him made Saris' lip want to curl up in a snarl. He had always smelled wrong, like death before the corpse begins to decompose, and his lack of body heat and a heartbeat only increased Saris' uncomfortable wariness. It wasn't that he disliked the other student, but all his senses told him the other boy should be lying on a cold slab somewhere instead of walking around in perfect health. He had very nearly tried to put him on that slab the day they'd met, though now he was beginning to be glad that he hadn't.
"Climb on." He turned his back to Chiala as he spoke, and once she obliged he turned it to the canyon wall and bent down, gripping a root as he lowered himself over the edge. Normally, he might have simply dropped off the side like he had earlier with the tree, but there was no vine to break his fall this time and he could feel his energy beginning to drain.
He'd had to start the descent a good six meters to the right of the shuttle itself, and more than once his hand or foot found a loose outcropping that threatened to plunge them into the ravine below, but it wasn't long before they reached the relative safety of the rocky outcroppings four meters above where the shuttle rested. The rock was smooth from there on down, so there was no choice but to push out and drop down the remaining distance to land heavily on the back of one of the seats. Saris' feet hit first and his legs nearly gave way as he dropped to hands and knees and absorbed the rest of the impact with his arms, an involuntary snarl escaping his lips as his body threatened to give up on him. Had he not been maintaining calm, he knew he would have likely collapsed right then and there, but the fatigue and pain were not his when he was wrapped in the void, and they could be ignored.
"I need the medkit." His speech was still eerily calm, not even the slightest hint of alarm or urgency had entered it, but he knew that if he kept his heart slowed for much longer the chances of being able to recover would begin to plummet. He would have gotten it himself, but he was now entirely focused on maintaining his calm and he doubted he could even stand up without losing that focus and bleeding out.
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Post by Adria Doran on Jul 1, 2013 15:29:58 GMT -8
There was a big difference between space and atmospheric combat. In atmosphere there was air resistance, wind sheer, planetary gravity, environmental hazards, obstacles; in space, that void between planets, there was minimal gravity unless near a large body, the obstacles were few and very far between -- unless vast fleets were being deployed -- and there was nothing to impede movement. Mastering one did not mean that you had mastered the other. But there were two things that stayed constant in both arenas of combat: first and foremost, danger was all around, waiting around every bend, every turn, every maneuver; secondly, and always in the back of the blonde pilot's mind, was that nothing could hold her down.
She belonged in the air.
Lieutenant Adria Doran had always been known for her uncanny foresight, even while working as a junior agent in CorSec, long before her Force Sensitivity had been realized. Her Jedi training had only served to enhance that particular skill; as such, she often knew where and when she was needed before she was actually called. It wasn't the first time her talent had come in handy for her allies, and she knew for a fact that it wouldn't be the last time. So it was that she had already sensed the request coming, had oriented her XJ9 in the direction of the suddenly-beleaguered allied fighters, fifteen seconds before the call came in. She had felt uneasy for the past few minutes, and had been veering off her designated flight path; now, she once again realized that, while her abilities didn't always take her where she wanted to go, they always took her where she needed to go.
She was thirty-five seconds out at standard top speed. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.. Yes. She could make it in time. This was her fighter, not just standard-issue, and she had modified it months ago to operate outside of standard parameters. She just hadn't had occasion to use the modified systems, and never in atmosphere. Her allies needed her, though, and her senses had never failed her before.
Well... almost never.
She put that thought aside, though. Right now, in this moment, she knew that her experimental systems would work. The blonde pilot closed her eyes again and flicked open a small cover she had built into her flight stick with the little finger of her left hand, placing her right hand upon the throttle. Her little finger pressed down on the button underneath the cover and pulled back on the throttle before pushing it all the way forward again. The move pushed the fighter past its initial estimated speeds, drawing power from other systems: in this case, the rear shields. It also dialed up the inertial compensator to 100%, just for the time while the button was pressed, in order to keep her from suffering any ill effects from the added acceleration.
Her ETA counted down faster than it should have, going from thirty-five to thirty in the blink of an eye, and twenty-five just two blinks later. The air was turbulent, but she kept the fighter pushing forward, slowly pulling back on the increased throttle, which itself was now tied into the compensator, allowing her to feel the fighter's stress and motion more fully while still maintaining a safe level that her Jedi body could handle. When she was less than twenty seconds out at her current speed, she pulled back on the throttle all the way, let go of the button, and pushed the throttle forward to maximum, then cycled the excess energy still flowing in the engines back into the shields.
She trusted the pilots to be able to handle themselves long enough for her to get there. Her maneuver needed another two seconds in order to get everything back to full standard power; while that was more than enough time in basic flight and maneuvering, it was still very risky in dogfighting, and thus she rarely used it. Fifteen seconds out.. Ten...
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 2, 2013 9:13:57 GMT -8
=Captain Telen Zax=
"It's alright. I'll be alright - really, it looks a lot worse than it is."
To his ears, he sounded convincing - so much so that he almost convinced himself. Almost.
Now, he needed to get out of his little situation. The Omwati searched his mind, trying to think of something, anything that he would be able to use. What was usually in these shuttle cabins? What would work?
The emergency maintenance kit? It's worth a try...
The kit was usually stored in a panel behind the co-pilot's seat, set into the side wall, which meant it was somewhere behind him. He knew he couldn't reach it, but Anita - perhaps she could reach it?
=Captain Telen Zax=
"Right, there's a..." He stopped for a moment, swallowing back some pain that suddenly swelled up from inside him. His eyes pressed closed, and he felt, for a moment, like he might throw up - the idea of retching, and tearing against the shard of metal in doing so, was horrifying to him, so he was thankful that it didn't play out that way. After a deep breath, he continued, a strain in his voice. "...there's a engineer's kit about a meter and a half behind my seat. There should be a small fusion cutter in there."
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Felia Reksira
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Post by Felia Reksira on Jul 2, 2013 16:13:52 GMT -8
She wasn't convinced as her massive brown orbs roved around over his injuries, lip jutting a bit as if holding back more tears. Forehead marred with a heavy frown, she seemed to get a hold of herself as she arched an eyebrow questioningly, beginning to move sideways a little in order to make her way around the chair so she could access the toolbox behind it.
"Well that's good because it looks really bad..."
She said the words followed by a high pitched giggle before freezing in place, her forced levity giving way to a look of abject horror at her insensitivity. She looked sideways at the injured man as she hung on to the edges of the chair to the right of his head, preparing to pull herself around to the back. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment she lowered her eyes in shame at her comment, hoping that the man didn't take offence at her foolishness.
"I'm sowwy, sir. That was... I'm sowwy."
With cheeks burning she pulled herself around the chair and alighted on the back, kneeling and pulling open the compartment there. It was only now she realised that the metal shard had pieced the chair and the soldier both, shearing right through the hard plastiod. It had stabbed right through where the toolkit had been stowed, shearing the fusion cutter in half. In growing dismay she rummaged through the debris, fining tool after tool damaged or otherwise useless in getting the injured man free.
She reared back on her knee's, rocking over onto her haunches and nearly tumbling off her precarious perch for her troubles. With tears in her eyes she wrung her hands in dismay at the situation, hearing the desperate calls from above. The fact that her friends were okay was overshadowed by her fear as well as her failure to get the man free, seeing these little setbacks as everything being against them in this time of strife. The fact that nothing had been heard from Lilia also concerned her. She knew that the confident teen would be the first to voice a plan, her natural leadership qualities always coming to the fore in such times of adversity. Her silence meant that she was incapacitated or... worse.
She shied away from such thoughts and physically flinched as she recalled the dead Bothan, the image slamming home to her that death was a very close threat for them all at the moment.
"The fusion cutters broken..."
Something clattered passed him as she began throwing tool around in a frenzy.
"There's nothing her I can use!"
He voice cried out in a strangled wail, the last words seeming to snarl out from between clenched teeth. She was getting frustrated now, her annoyance overriding her fear and despair. She looked up from where she crouched, making out the slightly darker shape of the hatch above. She paused as she stared upwards, mind wandering a little as she thought what a fully trained Jedi would do. If only she were trained. She could ease his suffering. Tear the restraints from him with the Force. Prevent him bleeding somehow. Cut him free with her lightsa...
She froze suddenly as she recalled the Jedi that had been travelling with them. Nuna had a lightsaber! Her eyes continued to look up through the hatch, her face becoming a scowl as she realised that she'd have to climb back up unless...
"Jedi Neena had a lightsaber..."
Her voice was soft and sad as she mourned the young female Jedi, the tone a stark contrast to the angry snarl of earlier.
"Maybe I could use it to cut you free?"
She said it hesitantly as she wasn't sure she could handle the energy weapon with enough skill and dexterity to accompish the task. She also wasn't sure she had the strength to climb back up the cable and get the lightsaber from the dead Jedi's belt. The task looked monumental from where she was, an insurmountable challenge that had her trembling all over just thinking about it. Soaked to the skin and tired beyond words, ankle and knee hurting, she reached out to her friends desperately seeking help in her trials.
Help me...
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 4, 2013 16:06:22 GMT -8
====== Anita ========
"Kythis?" Anita asked, breathing a coughy sigh of relief. If Kythis was alive, surely the others must have survived the crash as well.
As if on cue, she thought she heard Brakus's, followed shortly by Crevan's call for help. Hesitently she reached out through the force, almost flinching with the pain that she felt coming from them.
. . . and then there was Felia's voice in her head. So that was at least four other students still alive inside the ship. Somehow, she figured she shouldn't be surprised it was those four - not after all they had been through.
Slowly, wincing a bit from the pain in her head, Anita looked over to her side and peered into the dim of the cabin. On one end of the room, above her and a steep angle, an emergency light had come on, with the words "Exit" in red letters flashing in the dim.
Too bad that exit is straight up, Anita thought grimly. That does make things a bit more difficult. Especially since physical fitness is not particularly one of my strong points.
So that exit was illogical. Of course there was always the exit at the back of the cabin, somewhere behind and below her. Although Anita didn't find herself particularly enthused about the idea of climbing down there with only the dim emergency lighting and the risk of falling through the open cabin door into one of the other rooms - although that was most likely where the other students were located.
Best figure out the situation first though, before she did anything.
"How's everyone?" she called down into the cabins behind her. "Any injuries? I seem to have had a bit of a knock on the head, but I'm otherwise fine."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jul 9, 2013 13:38:05 GMT -8
~ The X-Wing duo rocketed through the stormy skies into unremitting battle, the closure rates ticking away in a seamless drum roll as Ehrik Jaimse made a few, last adjustments to his fighter. His HUD was going haywire: the enemy fighters' readings kept flickering and disappearing, much to his frustration. Even using visual scanning was nigh-impossible: high-speed combined with shite weather made any sort of scope practically useless. This would be a battle of instincts. He who dared, won.
Ehrik received a confirmation click over his commo that Toni was ready, high-above him now from their earlier maneuvers. He flicked a switch near his weapon readings, arming a proton torpedo inside its ordnance tube. He doubted he could get a clear lock-on, but if he had the chance, well ... Not even a "Bessie" would enjoy being struck by a miniature fusion explosive.
:: Quad Fire. Give 'em hell. ::
The order was brief, both pilots carrying it out and setting their powerful laser cannons to all fire simultaneously. They lost the ability to fire rapidly, but from their combat in space beforehand, Ehrik knew that rapid fire was not necessarily the best method of attack against a Mando strike craft. No, they needed to become almost animalistic in their assault. Complete, brute force and power, meant to slam the beskar-clad fighters around until the pilots inside were jelly. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it was about their only means of even damaging the armored snubfighters.
Just as they had made the calibration to their guns, there they were: Two Bes'uliiks, flying horizontal to each other, with Darklighter Lead above and Antilles Lead below them. Ehrik nosed his fighter up as Toni made the slight adjustment to dip her X-Wing down, angling their attack to hit from both sides. Silently, Ehrik set his gunsights over the fighter to his left, knowing the computer wouldn't adjust fast enough to get a solid lock on it. He gave the advancing aggressor a healthy bit of lead to account for their incredible speeds, his mind going through a lightning streak of calculations to account for distance, pitch, his velocity, their velocity, and eventually leaving him with a firing solution no better than just eyeballing it to gauge, and then let loose just as the computer registered a distance of 200 meters: a distance they had closed in the blink of an eye from the moment they spied their targets.
The tips of the laser cannons at his wings pulled back their mechanical drawstrings and then let fly four, scarlet arrows, the plasma bolts converging quickly towards each other to maximize damage on one point of impact. Darklighter Leader had followed suit, targeting the same fighter as he with the same amount of firepower, cursing the fact that her guns were still recycling their energy until they could unleash hell once again. From above and below, they struck like cobras, appearing out of the grey skies with the intent to slay their foes in this, the most dangerous dance of death, thousands of meters above the jungle canopy.
Neither waited for the confirmation of a hit. Throttles were pounded forward and the X-Wings made to use the closing speeds to shoot past their foes unscathed, Toni now inverted and diving as Ehrik climbed. Their maneuver sought to put them behind the Mando aces and criss-cross their own flight paths, setting them up to perform yet another pair of vertical loops to bring them back behind their enemies.~
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Corr
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Post by Corr on Jul 10, 2013 13:31:08 GMT -8
Like the ancient knights of old did the pilots ride their technological steeds at each other, angling onto a head-to-head pass as they prepared their lances of coherent light to inflict catastrophic wounds upon each other. The two Bes'uliik swung around to form up alongside each other once again, their scanners struggling mightily to make sense of the erratic signals that were being received, forced upon them by interference from the foul weather. Their helmets helped somewhat, each pilots visor enhancing their visual scanning. The myriad options the classic Mando'ade buy'ce possessed would likely be a hindrance to any but the Mando'ade themselves. They near-lived in these helms and were well versed and used to their idiosyncrasies, able to flick between thermal imaging, night vision, as well as a host of others at will. Still, thinking time was a factor in starfighter combat and the more information one had prior to engagement the better ones chances.
As the two Mandalorian fighter arced around they leveled and we blinded by the murky air. Likewise their scanners told them very little as to the position of the Jedi fighters. They knew they were on roughly the right vector but weren't sure as to their opponents elevation. It was Wurk, flicking to his thermal view, that saw one of their targets streaking in from an elevated position. He barked out a vector and pulled back on the stick just as the fighter spat hot light at him in a single quad burst. Twitching his stick to the side he attempted to slip past the attack only to be hit in the belly with a full quad burst from the second X-Wing. The fully power shot super heated the beskar armour making his feet uncomfortably hot and causing a wail of alarm to shriek out from the sensors. The armour held but another hit like that would cause the tough fighter problems. As he wobbled from the impact, the stick trying to yank itself free of his grip, he had no time to align his shot, instead doing his best to steer directly into the descending X-Wings path. There was little he could do about the fighter approaching from below so he ignored it for now and busied himself with either ramming the Jedi craft in front of him or making it twitch and enable Mace to settle in behind it perhaps. His hand tightened on the trigger in an attempt to get his craft under better control while he prepared to juke into the path of the X-Wing or force it to turn away and shed speed and initiative.
Mace meanwhile was a split second behind Wurk in orienting towards the descending Jedi fighter, having had to register and react to Wurks called out coordinates. Still, she got herself in line and managed to fire her dual linked cannons towards the nose of the offending craft, being sure to lead the rapidly approaching fighter by a considerable distance due to its speed. Her eye twitched as she fired, thinking that the lead of her shot looked like it would miss by quite a ways, but knowing she was in the right area. Unfortunately her ship was moving too quick for her to confirm whether it would hit or not. Seeing an understanding what Wurk was abut with a single glance, the empathy they shared as wingmates helping to foster a near-telepathic link between them, she barrel rolled away from him to the right (Starboard) then began a quick, looping bank back around towards his position. She hoped to e able to pick up the direction the Jedi fighter broke in and drop behind it...
Both Bessies ignored the lower of the two fighters, trusting in their armoured hides to stave off any such counter by it. Both sought to crush the first they had spotted, either ramming it out of the skies or making it flinch so as to leave it vulnerable to the Mace's attacking run...
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 10, 2013 18:24:02 GMT -8
====== Anita ========"Kythis?" Anita asked, breathing a coughy sigh of relief. If Kythis was alive, surely the others must have survived the crash as well.As if on cue, she thought she heard Brakus's, followed shortly by Crevan's call for help. Hesitently she reached out through the force, almost flinching with the pain that she felt coming from them.
. . . and then there was Felia's voice in her head. So that was at least four other students still alive inside the ship. Somehow, she figured she shouldn't be surprised it was those four - not after all they had been through.
Slowly, wincing a bit from the pain in her head, Anita looked over to her side and peered into the dim of the cabin. On one end of the room, above her and a steep angle, an emergency light had come on, with the words "Exit" in red letters flashing in the dim.
Too bad that exit is straight up, Anita thought grimly. That does make things a bit more difficult. Especially since physical fitness is not particularly one of my strong points.
So that exit was illogical. Of course there was always the exit at the back of the cabin, somewhere behind and below her. Although Anita didn't find herself particularly enthused about the idea of climbing down there with only the dim emergency lighting and the risk of falling through the open cabin door into one of the other rooms - although that was most likely where the other students were located.
Best figure out the situation first though, before she did anything.
"How's everyone?" she called down into the cabins behind her. "Any injuries? I seem to have had a bit of a knock on the head, but I'm otherwise fine."
Could be worse.
He was aware that there were others hurt, though. Lilia - the rush of worry bubbled up in him again - seemed still out of it, Brakus too, and Crevan... Kythis could sense pain from the young pup.
=Kythis Seiro=
"I'm alright. Brakus and Lilia are hurt, I think, and Crevan too. But, Felia... she's down in the cockpit with the soldier, and... he needs help. And she needs help to help him. I don't think I can get out of these restraints without... help..." You're saying 'help' too much. You sound like an idiot. "But she needs it more. Can you get to her? Can you get to the cockpit door?" |
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 10, 2013 19:41:52 GMT -8
Anita glanced behind her again. "I can try" she called out, thankful at least she had chosen a seat that resulted her being almost flat on her back as opposed to hanging above the floor. It definitely made extracting herself from the restraints a bit easier. Peaking over the edge of her seat, she surveyed the room to try and calculate the safest route down. Maybe using the seats as a very large ladder? It was maybe fifteen feet to the door, and the seats covered half that distance. If she hung off the last seat, she could easily drop to the wall on the other side - maybe only actually falling five feet.
Slowly, she began sliding herself over the edge of her seat, attempting to ignore her brain's calculations, detailing all the ways she could injure herself in a fall, especially if she miscalculated and fell through the door and into the other room. Instead, she tried to not look down too much, inching her way slowly, over the side of the chair, then over another (that was empty), then one more.
She tried not to look too closely at the occupent of the last seat. She almost passed the body completely, except her eyes caught the flash of the weapon at the body's side.
Well, I suppose she won't be needing it anymore, the girl reasoned, reaching out and grabbing the lightsaber, and clasping it to her belt. And we may need it if we want to get out of here.
Then came the drop. The part she had been dreading. Anita was fairly certain she didn't care for heights, especially when they involved heights not originally accounted for in the architectural design for a ship. Such as a ship being almost entirely on it's nose. And who knew what sort of horrible situation the ship was in to result in that sort of landing position.
Think about that later, Anita, she told herself. When it is time to deal with that. For now get yourself to Felia.
Putting thoughts of the ship's condition in the back of her mind, Anita, hanging down from the edge of the final seat glanced down - attempting to make sure she timed her fall perfectly. Cautiously, she readjusted her position, from where she hung, inching further towards where the floor would have been, so as to avoid any obstacles in her fall. Her arms shook, burning from the strain of the physical activity - a bit much for the bookworm.
I swear, if I live through this, I'm going to start doing pushups every day.
Finally, her arms could take it no longer, and she let go, letting out a muffled yelp as she hit the wall turned floor, less than a foot from the open cabin door. Gripping the side of the door firmly, she looked over the edge into the rest of the ship, where the emergency lights leading to the cockpit glowed - maybe 15 feet down. "Felia, I'm coming!" she called out into the pit below.
Somehow.
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Felia Reksira
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Post by Felia Reksira on Jul 11, 2013 15:19:02 GMT -8
Perched on the back of the injured soldiers chair Felia flinched as she hear a dull clang from above her, a jarring crash that set her imagination to dreaming up all kinds of dooms that would befall them all. She hunkered down on the small platform the chair back provided like a rabbit caught in some headlights, whimpering softly as she peered fearfully up at the bulkhead and the rectangle of darker shadow that represented the door to the passenger bay. She blinked as a pale face appeared, looking down at her through the open doorway, soft voice drifting down through the darkness.[/span] Finally, her arms could take it no longer, and she let go, letting out a muffled yelp as she hit the wall turned floor, less than a foot from the open cabin door. Gripping the side of the door firmly, she looked over the edge into the rest of the ship, where the emergency lights leading to the cockpit glowed - maybe 15 feet down. "Felia, I'm coming!" she called out into the pit below.
Somehow.
The small girl gasped as she heard her friend call out, a wave of relief washing over her at Anita's nearness, only now realising how alone and vulnerable she actually felt. Shuffling around a little she got herself oriented towards where the cable sill dangled before looking back up to Anita.
"The soldiers injured..."
Her voise was business-like in an attempt to stave off the tremor of fear that laced everything she said, did, or even thought. She figured that if she kept busy she wouldn't have time to be afraid. The logic of a child... You can't beat it.
"We need something to cut him free. He's strapped in and..."
Her mind blanched at the horrible position the man was in. The jagged metal shard driven through him, the blood...
Her voice dropped to a whisper, the meaning transmitted through the Force clearer than it could be heard by the ears.
Its bad...
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Brakus Sev
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Post by Brakus Sev on Jul 11, 2013 15:44:29 GMT -8
Brakus' head swam as he heard his friends call out all around him. At least, he thought they were al around him. He was having some serious trouble concentrating at the moment through all the pain he felt. A robust and active lad, he wasn't a stranger to taking knocks and blows, but this was something else. His head lolled lazily on his right shoulder and no matter what he did he couldn't keep it straight. His stomach leaped and twirled, threatening to send vomit issuing forth at any moment. His chest burned with every breath and there was a rust-like taste in his mouth.
He coughed, feeling warm liquid dribble down his chin as his eyes flickered in and out of focus. He couldn't tell if it was actually dork or whether his eyes, suddenly so unreliable, were playing tricks on him. Nothing seemed to be functioning as it should as another failed attempt to wipe the liquid from his mouth flopped down to hand loosely at his side.
He drew in another deep breath, sending dagger of pain racing along his left-hand side before forcing out some words.
"Crevan? Chiala?"
He had heard them both earlier he was sure and could vaguely sense them nearby along with another morose presence, probably Kythis. He tried to reach out for Felia but couldn't locate the usually bubble of eccentricity. That produced a worry in him but, like all emotions in the heavily injured Brakus, it was vague and fleeting.
"Mmm'thirsty..."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jul 11, 2013 15:48:51 GMT -8
~ Ehrik had no problem blitzing past the Mandalorian fighters, but it seemed that the enemy pilots had gotten it in their heads to do the same exact thing that the Yavinites did: focus fire and annihilate one of their targets first. Toni was in trouble at high-speeds: a dangerous game they played in the skies above Yavin IV. Antilles Leader continued to pull back on his stick, the blurry sensor readings alerting him that his wingmate was in trouble. He needed to wheel around, fast, but doing so would compromise his position. Danger came hand in hand with flying starfighters, and he ignored his own survival instincts to instead Immelman his craft backwards to bring it facing the Mandalorians once again.
Toni, meanwhile, had no time to react at all. The Bessie came at her, an iron spear intent on piercing her flying cuirass and impaling her heart upon the clouds. Her eyes widened, the world slowing to a crawl as her right foot kicked at the pedal beneath it, her hands bringing the stick to follow suit. Her X-Wing pitched to the side, the rudder and tilt throwing her fighter to the right and down: her shields flashed a brief impact warning as Yavinite and Concordian slid right past one another, the air between their wings becoming pressurized as it was forced to fit into such a thin pocket.
Just as she thought she was home free, though, her snubfighter shook violently, crimson splashing over the side of her nose and sounding alarms inside the tiny cockpit. Her maneuver had positioned her nearly perfectly to receive the laser fire of the Mando Leader's wingmate. In the grand scheme of things, she rathered shield damage over immediate death, any day of the week. Her throttle was punched when she could finally even her flight path out, angling her deflectors back to full coverage, Ehrik doing the same as he came up over her.
:: Got a little cooked, but I'm okay, :: Darklighter Lead informed her partner, ignoring the fact that the double blast was powerful enough to strip just over a quarter of her shields away. A few more blasts like that, and she'd be done for, the only solace being that apparently the X-Wings outgunned the Mando strike craft by two lasers. Toni banished the thoughts from her mind, instead leveling out her horizontal path and burning back around the sky to her left, seeking to once again strike at the Mandos from two angles of attack: her on even ground, Ehrik from above.
Her turn wasn't fast enough, however, and Ehrik knew it.
:: On my Wing. ::
Wordlessly, Captain Raques followed order and abandoned her turn, pitching into a climb instead to join Ehrik at his starboard side.
The first pass had gone by violently, both groups taking a hefty amount of damage: an X-Wing without shields was a lightly armored interceptor, and Ehrik was praying that maybe his shot had at least compromised that Bes'uliiks armor some. Hopefully.
The clouds interfered with the hunt once more, Ehrik and Toni knowing that the Mandos had the be below them. They followed their flickering scanners towards the red dots that had shot past them, banking on the idea that they were behind their enemies' six o'clock, this time. ~
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter"..... 
