Faction Rescue Service, Away! (Rimward Trade League + Friends/ Chiss?))

[Jhira Mereel]

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LOCATION: Csilla, or at least its remnants
Objective: Space rescue life pods and people trapped in ships.
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar’gam | Weapon load out | The Echoy’la Sun
Allies: [ Vera Tillian ] [ Tovald Kahmen’’a ]

Jhira nodded approval as the Endurance began maneuvering even before their COMM reply reached the Echoy’la Sun. Seconds mattered, in a mission like this. A tight crew, over there; she had no fear they’d let the pilot drift endlessly. As Jhira exited the bridge, [@Mia Mereel ]was already answering the Endurance’s COMM, the military protocol meticulously wiped free of Mia’s creative command of profanity. A brief ping though Jhira’s helm, and the Tac system seamlessly switched to COMMs even as the doors to the lift closed behind her. The captain’s grin flared, her gaze meeting Jhetar’s. “We just might get everyone out of there, if the support team they promised is as sharp as their bridge crew.”

“Should be; this is what they do.” yet a hint of doubt came through the electronic distortion of Jhetar’s helmet.

Before she could answer, the lift doors opened onto the hangar bay. Zir and Lin were waiting. A first aid care kit, Search rescue tools, and emergency air pods were strapped onto a float pallet tethered to Lin. Red, Green, Yellow, Blue - they made a strange appearing squad, each armor utterly unique, the colors carrying meaning beyond fashion choices.

But they all had vacuum rated gear, and were skilled with the Rising Phoenix.

As their own ship achieved a station keeping position with the derelict, the small drop-team of Mandos slipped into the unforgiving vacuum of space. Debris cluttered the sky; even her Sragivagr Control Suite struggled to track everything on trajectory to impact either the derelict, or her squad.

The glittering glory of the Echoyl’a Sun’s Shields flared crimson and red, then vanished into blackness as a gravity flux from the broken world smashed a kilometer-long splinter of the world below into the over-extended Shields. It shattered into a hundred thousand deadly shards. Around her, the Squad’s Myntor Personal Shield’s sprung to life, interlacing in a four-point weave. Even so, Jhira felt shrapnel too small for her Tac Comp to track impact along her armor — and was profoundly grateful her squad was in beskar’gam.

Lin cried out, as the mass-heavy float pallet took a heavy hit, and was shoved violently off course. Before Jhira could even give an order, a pair of grappling lines snagged the respected teacher and hauled her back on course.

“Is your armor punctured?” Jhetar demanded.

“We’d know if it was,” Zir said dryly. “All that hot air escaping…”

Jhira choked back a laugh, zeroing in on a large tear in the hull that appeared to be neatest to the life sings. “Oya! Let’s hunt.” Jet Pack’s flared to life, and they wove through debris, dancing with death. A tense minute later, the magnetic souls of their boots latched onto the derelict.

At last, the Echoy’la Sun’s shields spun back up, and Jhira breathed a little easier. She did not want to transport live cargo in that maelstrom, and at least with the extended Shields in place there was some of hope of tractor beams clearing the path home.

COMM to All: ⌁ Endurance, this is Striking Falcon Squad, Advise we have reached the derelict’s hull. Request confirm trace on our location, and ETA of your support Squad. ⌁

It took long seconds for her HUD to adapt to the Stygian darkness with in the derelict MAW craft. Horrors lay everywhere, and Jhira closed out of her mind the limbs and human debris scattered across the expanse.

There it was; an long, arcing corridor to a pool of air and life. Jhira uploaded her visuals to the TAC-Net, hoping that the Endurance had the equipment to display and react to it.

 

[Vera Tillian]

Tovald Kahmen’’a Jhira Mereel
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Hangar-
In the hangar, the deck officer whistled and moved his hand in a circle to clear the launch lane. The alien officer nodded to Tovald. "You up or interested in making another rescue run? We've got some more auxiliaries moving to make a rescue on another ship and requested some backup. We're sending over a team, but we're short on board-hands and need a few more for a safe complement. Repulsors up in three minutes if you're in."

Bridge-
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"Their boarding party is away," the sensor technician said, "Looks like jetpacks. Mandalorians." Vera nodded. She could just make out the glimpses of the jet packs-- small fireflies in the darkness, moving against the endless depths of space. Other distant lights indicated further ships as they progressed through their own search-lanes.

"Captain, they've reached the ship's hull and request confirmation and ETA."

"ETA five-minutes," Vera responded confidently. "It's a short distance. Helm, bring the ship around to adjust the tractor beam vectors. We need to make sure they have a clear route back to the ship. Adjust by 34 degrees to reach ideal target range for the debris field."

"Aye, Captain," the answer came back. It moved the hangar a bit further away, but by clearing debris, they shortened the evacuation time and prevented undue risk from extreme maneuvers. "Reroute weapon power to tractor beams. Nav, chart the quickest route to the derelict with the highest margin of safety."

There was a whirr of computers and adjustments. She couldn't see what was happening either in the ship or the hangar, but that was what it meant to be a ship captain. She could only make decisions and then delegate their execution. But her crew was the best and they knew exactly what they were doing. The view through the front viewport shifted as the vessel rotated. "Adjust viewers to focus on the derelict," Vera said, and the screens shifted and centered on the ruined ship.

"Captain, we're picking up a broadcast from the ship. Mandalorian codes and frequencies."

"On-screen, Ensign," Vera said, "I want parallel views and focus threat-vector assessment on the derelict and the charted route. Confirm location trace and try to initiate vocal contact." Her voice was crisp and almost flat, as the images on the viewers fritzed and went fuzzy before coalescing into a picture.

"This is Captain Vera Tillian of the Endurance," she added on the comm. "We are in support position and extra team is launching in thirty seconds. Estimate route time is two minutes."

 

[Tovald Kahmen’’a]

Tags: Vera Tillian Jhira Mereel

A few hours passed and he on the Medic's orders stayed put, not moving, as he didn't want to interfere with the wound. He even stopped himself scratching at it, he does that often, even he has no idea he does it himself. It is a very bad habit one that he hasn't shaken off yet. His mother used to reprimand him if she caught him doing it when he was little.

With the pain subsiding and the Bacta working Tovald felt perkier than he had been the last hour and the prospect of doing anything else to help makes him happy and gives him a positive job to do. Many thought his kind and pleasant attitude was very unusual. He didn't care, he made sure to separate himself from the less reputable reputation his brother has. Same clan different people.

<"Anything to help a just cause."> He replied already on his feet gearing to go. He had silently wondered about those he saved and if they were okay and still alive. He hoped so, he will pray for them regardless. He waited to be directed to the ship in question. He had a fair bit of his energy back.