The Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turning (Open)

[Gorba the Hutt]

"How exotic, but nothing you couldn't peel from his corpse."

Gorba's tongue played with the scar crevasse at the corner of his wide lips.

"I know the location of your grand daughter."

[member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Popo"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Popo"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

SPACE
CRS LIKE HELL

The bridge and the transmission went dead quiet, except for a series of gentle pops that might have been knuckles. One thing was for sure: Ember was no longer leaning back in his chair. For all his children and all his age, he'd only ever had two granddaughters. One was Clan Rekali's leader, safe and strong. The other had vanished during the Mandalorian Empire's depredations the better part of a year ago. And clearly Gorba knew that.

"You make a compelling point, Mighty Gorba," he said. "Possibly as many as two. Can you offer any...substantiation of your claim, and how you came by this information?"

There weren't many polite ways to ask a Hutt crime lord to prove he wasn't just making crap up.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Hangar Bay - A

Return fire had Sal pinned down pretty well. The crate he hid behind rattled with impacts, steadily being chewed away by combined small arms fire. He managed to get off a few well-placed shots with his pistols and burned some thumb-width holes into a pair of security guards, but there was about thirty more where they came from and Sal wasn't a one-man army.

Fortunately, a few shots from someplace else seemed to distract a bunch of them, including the Hutts. Sal couldn't spot where the shots were coming from, but the weapon utilized was about as loud as a bull rancor, even over the din of blaster fire.

Katarn looked for another bit of cover to hide behind. When would those blasted Kajidic fellows get the security systems down?

[member="Popo"] | [member="The Slave"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

SPACE

VERY, VERY FAR AWAY


Safe aboard his yacht, Gorba indulged in a smug, self-satisfied smile. He did abhor Mandalorians, despite their occasional usefulness. Disgusting culture. Making one with Ember's reputation squirm left a warm glow in his belly, which he suddenly realized was empty.

He turned to an attendant slave. "E'nachu, ateema."

The harried Twi'lek hurried to find his meal. Gorba returned his attention to the seven cruisers that could spoil all his well-laid plans and the Mandalorian who commanded them.

"Hmph. Wata," the Hutt reluctantly picked up a data pad, scrolled for a handful of seconds, then held up the data pad to the screen. It showed [member="Mira Rekali"]'s face and a time stamp that put it within the last month. He certainly could have forged all of this.

But he had not.

[member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Popo"]

 

[Azimuth Industries]

MASTER-COM SYSTEMS

​

​

"That's it! I did it!" exclaimed Jiimi, leaping to his feet and throwing both small hands into the air.

LeFrange frowned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

​One by one, the turbo laser systems on the Wheel shut down as the virus infecting Master-Com caused it to undergo a reboot. The defense systems likewise rebooted. Blast doors lifted, air cars resumed their flow, and vented sections of the station repressurized.

"We don't have control of the station yet. I'm uploading that Helix A.I. Once that finishes, we'll have control of the guns, the blast doors. Pretty stanging much everything."

"Wow," said Zatax.

[member="Nadir"] | [member="Popo"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Smeg"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"]

It wasn't as if the Hutt could have known Clan Rekali would show up. A prepared fraud would likely have been more impressive. And Ember's Huttese might be rusty, but Gorba had said something about food, not 'go fake me a holo of Mira Rekali.' No, on balance, this was probably genuine.

"For clarity, Mighty Gorba...which ships here in the Besh Gorgon system are your allies?"

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

SOMEWHERE IN THE ALIGNMENT
REMOTE OBSERVATION OUTPOST

"...So that's when I decided to cut off contact, y'know? She was a sleech. A sleech through and through." Said Kentmere, a bald and pallid human male. His feet were kicked up on the command console. One hand was tucked behind his head as he reclined, the other held his cigarra - which he dabbed lightly, depositing ash to the floor. "That's why I broke up with her."

On the other side of the small observation post's interior was Groener, an Abyssin who (against all possible odds), received his bachelor's in information technology and now worked a lucrative gig as one of the Helix Syndicate's communications technicians. He was also seated at his workstation, though it was a lot cleaner than Kentmere's. A newspaper was gripped in one clawed hand, a mug of caf in the other. Having one eye did not necessarily help with the reading process, so occasionally Groener would appear to squint and then adjust the distance at which his newspaper was held.

"Yeah."

Groener was half-listening as usual. The same could not be said for Metchosin, the Anomid technician. He half turned in his seat to stare at Kentmere, then there was a buzzing sound as his vocalizer unit powered up. "Maybe I missed something. What's a sleech?"

Kentmere shrugged, as if this were common knowledge. "Oh, you know. A cross between a slag and a leech."

There was a considerable pause, then another buzz as Metchosin spoke again. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh, it's simple." Kentmere took his feet off the console and swiveled his chair around to face Metchosin. "It's a lady who uses her - how can I say this politely? Her sexual appeal - to leech resources off of a man. See? A slag and a leech. It's textbook."

"That's..." Metchosin trailed off, shook his head, and turned his chair back around.

"That's what?"

Buzz. "Nothing," said Metchosin, returning his attention to the console. That was weird, they had a signal coming in from Besh Gorgon. Weren't they told to wait for that?

"No, no," Kentmere pressed. "What were you going to say?"

Groener put his mug down with a clunk. "Didn't you call your last girlfriend a sleech or something?"

"No, she was a settler. See, a settler-"

Groener cut him off. "What about the one before that?"

"Who, the trampire?"

Buzz. Metchosin speaking. "The what?"

"The nothing," Groener said, "Take care of that signal, Metchosin."

The Anomid might have grumbled something if his vocalizer had that capacity. Unfortunately, it did not. If they were receiving a signal from Besh Gorgon, it was coming from the Wheel. If it was coming from the Wheel, that meant that - against all conceivable odds - those goofy Kajidic goons had succeeded in plugging in the AI prototype. If that was the case, they were about to have direct access. There would probably be a host of issues to deal with once the connection solidified. Issues that were far above their paygrade.

They were going to have to reroute the connection to a larger facility. Probably Fort Amaranth, maybe someplace else. There'd be a lot of Processors huddled around a mainframe wherever it ended up, that was for sure. Metchosin flipped some switches and dialed in some information, punched in a clearance code or too. Who knew what kind of carnage was going on over there? Maybe he'd read about it in the news once his station here was done. Or maybe not. Who really knew what would and wouldn't be reported on?

Meanwhile, Kentmere and Groener was still speaking. "What's my other girlfriends got to do with this?"

"I don't much know what goes on in your love circles, Kentmere, but it could be when you come up with all these crazy archetypes for the women you've had issues with," Groener reclaimed his mug, "It might just be a you thing. Y'know?"

Kentmere looked positively contemplative for a few moments. He slowly swiveled his chair back around, put out his cigarra, and very softly whispered: "Nuh-uh."

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"]​

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Gorba squinted at the screen, then shrugged mentally.

"The Technicolor Beat and her escorts, the Corsairs of Cato, and hm- the Red Ravens. If they ever arrive. Hmph."

[member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Popo"]

That left the mesen'loras, both wild and tame; assorted civilian traffic fleeing in various directions; and the Wheel itself, whose guns were petering out. And, of course, seven Clan Rekali battleships, each comparable to the Corsairs' flagship.

"Gentlemen," said Ember, doing his level best to display no emotion, "you both make a compelling offer. Alas, my people need to be paid, so I need to make a decision. The simplest solution is greed. Consider the current round of bids a tie."

 

[Lysle of the Hydian Way]

| Time to Meet the Devil |​

A single vessel tore through subspace and manifested in the system, The Wheel in its sight. It was a small freighter armed to the teeth and painted in a thick blood red. Along its hull it bore bold black writing that spelt out 'The Red Raven.' Alone, but not for long. Another hammerhead-like freighter appeared, then a mining cargo hauler. In seconds many dozens of vessels from crude starfighters to stolen escort ships had dropped out of hyperspace and into the local system. A flock of Ravens had arrived.

The tide of vessels surged forwards, the larger escort vessels dominated the vanguard and led the charge towards The Wheel while freighters, starfighters, asteroid hoppers, gunships and armed yachts hid in their shadows. While the Red Raven fleet had never truly been an organised force of elite and large vessels, it had been a hive of annoying wasps. Disturb their nest and a thousand little stingers would come your way. Such was the case now as tens of dozens of smaller vessels made a run for the pirate blockade.

The Raven spearhead slipped through the pirate blockade, signalling their side with Gorba, then exploded in a firework display of pure carnage. The Wheels defences had opened fire upon the Raven swarm. The affected ships, now columns of fire and smoke, barrelled through space, some dangerously spiralling out of control towards the Wheel, others harmlessly away. The flock surged forward like a sudden evening tide.

Lysle of the Hydian Way sat at the helm of his vessel, flanked by DD-S1 droids. He witnessed the fury of Popo's defences from his viewport and frowned. He had never liked the Hutt. Holier-than-thou with a narcissism that bordered on annoyingly toxic. Lysle didn't mind siding with another likely traitorous slimey slug if it mean't toppling Popo and gaining some wealth. Yet Lysle was not wholly invested in this course, the moment he saw hesitation or distress from his allies he would leave with haste.

"Escape pods, now," Lysle spoke over the Raven communication channel. Suddenly the mass of Raven ships shuffled and exploded with activity. Escape pods were bursting from nigh every single Raven ship, spearheaded by a volley of fire that struck at targeted positions of the Wheel, the pods shooting towards the great structure and intending to slam through portholes, viewports and extravagant windows that the Raven vessels had just shot at, weakening their structural integrity and in some cases blasting through.

Each escape pod had been loaded with a fireteam of DD-S1 droids and rabbles of criminals. The mob of thugs was made up from smugglers, spice pushers and thieves to mercenaries, bounty hunters and your basic hired muscle. Somewhere in the thick of it all Lysle took comfort in knowing Julian Valentine was leading the charge along with Svel Droma. He only wondered when Jen would be joining him. He could use her to shut down some of the Wheels critical electronic systems.

 

[Zesiro]

Being way out of her element here, Zesiro stood around almost as dumbly as normal until she heard Muad speak to her. It brought her out of her daze and she went into action. It wasn't that Zesiro was really dumb so much as she lacked common sense. What a normal person would think of as large and out of their ability to move, she did without issue. Something that needed finer detail was where she was weak.

He asked her to move a transport and she was on it. There was a crowd around them now and they needed to kept separate from them. They were attempting to stop them from accomplishing whatever task they were here for. It was a detail she wasn't informed and didn't ask. When it came to the wild schemes of the mad Muad, it was better not to ask.

That was one of the first things she had learned around him. Don't ask.

So reaching out with the Force, Zesiro grabbed that transport and hurled it in the direction of the crowd trying to move in on them. It happened to also have that detonator he had tossed into the roof. As it landed, there was going to be a large explosion from the transport itself and the additional boost from the detonator.

[member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Naast'ika Laaran]

[member="The Slave"]

Naast'ika was under the belly of the Star Destroyer and off to the ship's port when he entered the range of it's tractor beams. He had spotted two of the small turrets before they had begun to move, and spotted a further three as they spun towards him. Naast'ika felt proud of himself for spotting them, the four or five turrets that could actually track him on his current trajectory, and for knowing that they were going to be the next threat he faced. As soon as he had spotted the first two, Naast'ika brought his own weapons to bare on the targets and began to fire at the various mounts at about the time time they attempted to project entrapping shields around him. Naast'ika knew his weapons could normally blast off the annoying turrets... But not always with the really big ships. Sometimes they had specialized shields over their turrets. The ones without that shielding had to make their weapons vulnerable in order to fire through their own shields... Either way, Naast'ika fired and hoped for the best.

There were other strategies though. Two of which Naast'ika employed at the same time as opening fire upon the turrets themselves. The first was to 'eyeball' the locations of the tractor beam emitters upon the enemy ship's hull and compare that to his relative location from the enemy ship. Spotting a point where two beams would be projected over adjacent areas of space, Naast'ika swing the quad singularity projected by his Neuroengines between the two beams and watched the swirling vortex of energy that formed as the shields emitted by those two enemy tractor beams were gobbled up. His defensive dovin basal projected a fifth singularity between himself and the beam emitted by a third turret. For any remaining tractor beam turrets not destroyed by weapons fire, Naast'ika sprayed concentrated point defense flak in the direction of the turret, along with continuing to focus the fire of his primary weapons upon those turrets.

Naast'ika's body dramatically shifted trajectories as he maneuvered his dovin basals to block the emissions of the tractor beam turrets, but still he raced towards the three kilometer warship's belly. That was, until a pair of smaller Star Destroyers decloaked in escort formation around the massive ship. An alarmed beep escaped Naast'ika as his senses flooded with new information about the craft.

The void around Naast'ika was suddenly filled with snap-fired point defense lasers and larger, odder energy blasts. Fighting against the urge to turn and run from the sudden surprise change in opposition, Naast'ika had no choice but to hold his current course or risk getting incapacitated by the heavy star destroyer's tractor beams. And as anti-starfighter laser blasts whipped past Naast'ika, ricochetted against his shields, and began to batter his Beskar hull, Naast'ika knew that to stop meant death.

Had he KNOWN about the pair of escorts, Naast'ika would have kept his distance and approached from the rear. Sensing them now, he knew that he should have spotted them. He must have just been distracted by the primary ship's unusual gravity signature...

Naast'ika, knowing the danger he was in and that his options were limited, began firing with his one remaining point defense cannon, spreading flak towards the closest escort and observing a number of the laser blasts detonate prematurely when they collided with innumerable shards of metal. Still, shots continued to collide with Naast'ika and he couldn't spare any Dovin basals to defending himself from the assault. His only option was to get as close to the larger ship as possible and attempt to use it's hull as cover. But when a pair of the strange energy weapons hit Naast'ika and the bio-corvette lost all sensation in his body, panic set in. Several of his senses were blinded and several internal systems shorted out. He couldn't feel his body, or even the scattered blasts that were impacting against his hull. More shots of the strange weapons were hitting Naast'ika and he could feel himself beginning to black out.

Adrenaline pumped through his arteries, his muscles and organs strained beyond their limits, and his mind... panicked. There was nowhere to go, no safe escape, nowhere to hide! Except... In his panic, with his numb body overloaded by adrenaline, Naast'ika raced forward even faster. To the only shelter his overwhelmed mind could perceive of.

Within the Dreadnought.

And so Naast'ika rammed face first into the ventral plating of the Star Destroyer at well beyond his typical top speed.

 

[Simone]

Location: Inside a hangar somewhere, inside this
Allies: Popo and company
Enemies: Everyone else.
Counter-slicing: [member="Helix Syndicate"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
Nimble fingers snatched the voidstone from the air as it was tossed towards her, a smile creeping across her features. Oh yes, this would do nicely. It disappeared into a pocket. This was probably the most casual way she’d entered a contract, with things heating up all over the station [member="Popo"] was completely calm. Confident in his systems and the ability of those around him...but not so overconfident that he didn’t ask for help.

Even if the words, ‘get into the systems and deal with whatever they’ve done’ didn’t come out of his mouth, Simone knew her role. With a small bow of her head she was gone, darting away from the firefight into the hangar adjacent. The M1-01 stood, almost half a tonne of armour at her disposal. Simone let out a low whistle, dropping what remain of her cigarette to be crushed under her boot before snatching up the body suit.

Less the two minutes later, the heads up display flickered to life inside and Simone grinned like a cheshire cat. “Alright, let’s see what we’re up against.”

She ignored her surroundings, using the broadband antenna to hook up to the Wheel’s systems. Trust was a dangerous thing, from within the suit, she had full access to the security, she could defend or attack as she saw fit all from the comfort of a phrik shell. Luckily for Popo, Simone was not easily bought. It didn’t take long to route through the systems to find the problem. A virus, damn good one too by the looks of it, had eaten its way into the system.

Simone set a trace up, searching for the source, it wouldn’t take long. Then she shifted her gaze towards the core systems firewalls, The virus would have to find a hole, and that would be made all the more difficult and she began to make the holes move. Rewriting them to deal with the incoming assault.


“Sorry, Sunshine,” she muttered under her breath. “But you’re not getting through me.”

 

[Arken Lussk]

Jacked In
Allies: [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Helix Syndicate"]
Foes: [member="Popo"] | [member="Simone"]

Jeremy the battle-bot hovered quite contently through the Wheel's elongated corridors. Many of the beings here merely regarded the hovering droid with little more than a glance. He was one of them. At least, he had been accepted by the galaxy's seemingly downtrodden and depressed populace. Given from what he'd seen before, many of them seemed to indulge in the act of either poisoning themselves with alcohol until motor functions were lost, or smoked something rather peculiar.

Strange things, organics were. All he needed was a good charge and he was set for days.

The worst of his weekdays typically occurred when he was 30% and below. Dad always charged him only when he neared 15% - hence the disgruntled son leaving home. At least he'd do something important before he scurried back to him to finally leave this station.

As he hurriedly hovered past an open hangar bay, something caught his eye. A flurry of motion as someone donned a huge suit of battle armor, flamethrower and all. Then came the wireless signals from it, obviously hastened by specialized equipment that Jeremy knew all too well. While the flamethrower and cannon-arm scared him, the creature inside of it did not.

Happy with the new target, Jeremy zoomed towards it. The droid gave it a few cursory glances to assess its threat level before landing up its back and latching on with magnetic grips. However, the instant he did that he emitted an electric shock with over enough voltage to deep fry an average humanoid. The several second electric shock hopefully disabled, or even fried much of the equipment held inside.

If he could smile at his own work, Jeremy would've, but he wasn't finished yet. That power generator located near the suit's bottom looked ever so enticing. He ejected his extender legs and fusioncutter, ever ready to set himself to a new task.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

With the unusual gravity signatures of The Technicolor Beat actively being spread by the GAM, detecting the other vessels was nigh impossible with the inclusion of their Hibridium based cloaking devices. Despite whatever battle premonition this destroyer carried with it, it had taken every turn the AI aboard the battlecruiser had predicted thus far;

So much for an unpredictable flight pattern, she thought idly as she compartmentalized a few Jaeger invoices related to sales happening in another portion of Hutt Space. With the arrival of the Red Ravens, Cybele didn’t expect to be required to shoot the main weapons of her main form; though she kept them charged in case one of the wild cards decided to act up. She did afterall have the firepower to take on ships far larger than herself, and a fleet at this distance would be no issue.

Still, there was the issue of the Corvette that threatened to ram the underside of the ship; and another processor was dedicated to processing just what it would do. With its movement taking it to the ventral side, one of the still cloaked escorts found itself out of sight of the would be assault ship; though it put it only more in sight of the other.

The first ship, now unable to fire on it, instead continued to dedicate Shadow Droid squadrons to run interception missions with the assistance of the joint command of Cybele. Perfect formations allowed shots to reign in and narrowly miss the now strafing ships, almost 24 in total. Each launched a varied mix of medium ranged proton torpedos and concussions missiles, while others still offered more close range assaults through various laser, ion, and repeating cannons. The overall result was a serious assault that it’s current weaponry would have to decide on shooting them down likely poor results, or otherwise continue dedication to stopping the assault.

The other ship continued its null projectors assault, multiple firing off every second; meaning that even slamming into the vessel would only result in a stationary target to hit. Their lack of damage meant almost not collateral on the main vessel, so the only thing that would cease was the HELIX missiles and the point defense weapons that fired minimally.

Simply put, there was a number of strategies already put in place to stop this exact type of assault. The Technicolor Beat knew its weaknesses, and built itself to hold them off; taking many cues from the Fortress Doctrines of naval officers of old; though how many couldn’t truly be determined without searching her various databases. Despite all this however, Naast’ika Laaran was as durable as ever considering its beskar plating, and its organic structures were something even The Slave could likely look up to.

The ram the vehicle produced sent quakes down the ferrocarbon frame of The Technicolor Beat, though it only partially crumpled some of the exterior frame systems. Between that and the reactive skin plates aboard the vessel, the ship would be met with short range explosive plates that would help to compensate some of the kinetic energy it had pent up in its charge; reducing it just enough to only partially press into the ships underbelly; though the damage had been done, and the ship had smacked itself against the hull.

With the specially designed frame still holding, and the heavy laden Matrix Armor on the exterior partially destroyed by the assault, all eyes were on the corvette. His attempt at breaching the extreme defenses of the battlecruiser had failed, but he had a chance to do something, though time was against him.


[member="Naast'ika Laaran"]

 

[Naast'ika Laaran]

[member="The Slave"]


Naast'ika regained consciousness with a jolt. Even with the numbing, his whole body hurt, particularly his nose. Secondary mechanical sensors throughout his body confirmed what his overloaded nerves we're reporting. He was badly damaged, everywhere. The Beskar plating on his prow was crumpled and torn in areas, the carapace under it was entirely shattered, the durasteel strength bones under that were fractured in numerous places, and blood oozed out through the cracks in his hull as well as filled several of his forward compartments.

A groggy beep escaped Naast'ika. He had never broken his nose before, and it bloody well hurt. All he wanted to do was lay in the void and bemoan his pain, but numerous flashing red alerts demanded his attention. Weapons fire battered his aft section and Naast'ika remembered that he was still in battle as fresh pain flooded his senses.

Once again, panic filled Naast'ika. He was in serious trouble and had to escape! With no other options and no time to question the instinct, Naast'ika strained his organs once again and activated his dovin basals directly to his fore. Ahead of himself, behind the armored hull of the star destroyer and within the superstructure that supported it, a quartet of singularities formed. Naast'ika could feel and hear the metal strain under the pressure. His aft section continued to take damage and Naast'ika blindly flailed his fifth Dovin basal singularity in the space behind himself, hoping that it would help. Ahead of him though, Naast'ika heard and felt a loud 'pop' as the inner most armor plating of the star destroyer gave way to the pull of the singularities and crumpled into ball no larger than a hard candy. With the structural support being ripped away beneath it, the layers of already compromised armor gave way and Naast'ika's body lurched forward. Tucking his nacelle as close to his hull as he could, Naast'ika kept the four singularities a constant distance away from himself and slowly slid into the hull of the much larger warship as section after section of internal structure gave way to the intense effects of barely controlled singularities.

 

[Darth Athora]

The Wheel
Allies: [member="Coratanni Cartel"]
Enemies: [member="Popo"]

Smoke filled the air like a flood. Blood dripped from Xristana's hands. Death was in abundance here, but there was much more to be had.

As she stepped out, she was met with a large squad of The Wheel's security force. Their blasters were locked onto her. One of the clearly more senior guards stepped forth to speak. "Make this easy, lady. Put your hands in the air and come with us peacefully or we will put you down." Hircine was in a bit of a pickle. But, she has gotten out of situations of even worse odds before. This was easy.

"Final warning, lady."

Hircine stepped forward and one of the guards accidently pulled the trigger and fired at her. The bolt flew at her but dissipated right before it could touch her. The guards had a look of serious confusion on each of their faces as Hircine emeged unharmed. Hircine stepped forward again. The senior officer signaled the rest of the guards to fire their blasters as well. Each officer followed the order and fired on Hircine. Each blaster bolt dissipated before they could hit Hircine. She could feel the energy being pulled into her talisman as it held onto it like a child holds their blanket at night as the shadows begin to morph into the crazy beasts the child imagines. As they continued their fire despite no effect on her, Hircine grabbed each of the guards by their throats with the Force and instantaneously snapped their necks and dropped them to the floor, their lifeless bodies landing with a rough thud.

Hircine grabbed one of their blasters and continued on her massacre through The Wheel. At this rate, there'd be no one to spend their money at this place.

 

[Julian Valentine]

The escape pod shot through space towards the Wheel, blasted through transparisteel, exploding tiny fragmented shards of glass-like material throughout the diner. The escape pod-turned-missile slammed through tables and chairs, sliding across the tiled floor and came to rest inside the kitchen. There was silence in the cafeteria, any possible customers had long since been ordered to their rooms for their own safety. Valentine remained quiet and listened. Footsteps were coming.

The Wheel Security Forces busted into the canteen, rifles raised. "Move, secure the pod!" the sergeant of the fireteam called, the small crew of security surrounded the pod and someone young of age shouted, "It's an escape pod, what if its civies?" A debate begun and Valentine held his breath, it continued for only a few seconds until the sergeant chimed in again. "Good call private - crack it open, check if the civies are alright," the sergeant ushered his men to lower their weapons. The hatch opened and Valentine came face to face with a lad no older than nineteen.

The surprise on the boys face was palpable, he was staring at a bounty hunter armed to the teeth. He looked like a walking armoury. It didn't last long before a slug turned the kids face into bolognese. Flesh, blood and brain matter erupted into a shower of gore. The body slumped to the ground and the security forces screamed in rage. It was too late, DD-S1 droids surged from the drop pod and quickly gunned down the small fireteam. The crimson Raven-made droids secured the room and vanished through the entrance and seemed to move down into the hallways of the Wheel on their own accord. Perhaps Lysle had a special mission for them.

Valentine smiled, climbed out of the pod and rested his cycler rifle over his shoulder, "It's good to be back." Mechanical legs and feet stepped over the corpses of the security team, looked around and knelt down for any tags and access cards. Security were bound to have their own access ways, it would be too inconvenient of them to only use civilian paths. It would also be teeming with security right now. Sometimes the best ways were also the hardest. He cleaned their pockets and opened his wrist-mounted datapad. Valentine gave only one request to the slicers currently making mayhem of the Wheels digital security, "Find me Popo."

 

[Nadir]

Mobius D'ikhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/91872-mobius-dik/ & the Myrmidons

It’s a bit disappointing to get only halfway to your goal and receive news that it’d gotten conquered already. Much less so, however, when your good self learns that new, fleshly targets are just a jump and a messy landing away.

With the control now wrenched from one Hutt’s tiny arms to the other, the odds continued to stack in their favor.

That, at least, was D’ik’s sage opinion of the situation. Wise to listen to the mercenary who’s lived to tell the tale of a thousand battles.

Without ado, the Myrmidons and their fearless leader unloaded their ponderous beskar and blubber unto the Wheel security forces. The Fireworms in the firm grasp of their flippers were made for this – scorching corridors free of enemy scum.

And the cleaners were here.

[member="Muad Dib"]​

Captain Chym-el Ad al-Balhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/123707-captain-chym-el-ad-al-bal/ & the Corsairs

The heated party outside had seen quite a few gatecrashers appear. While al-Bal was more of an ambush-and-scram kinda guy, he’d play the hand he was dealt. Weren’t two ways about it.

A number of his ships had burned to orbiting durasteel skeletons by then; others still were racing torches in space, snuffed as quickly as they caught fire (weren’t too much fuel to feed the flame in the void).

The Captain watched the fireworks unfold from the relatively safe confines of his impervium Diamond, stroking the feathers of his parrot all the while. A stationary station… he shook his head and adjusted their position some more.

Ah, blessed blind spots. “Howfur ur we daein’ oan crippling thair defenses, Gunnar?”

“Seein’ some real progress now, Cap’n. Can’t be much longer.”

“Guid, guid. Send in th’ skirmishers, then.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

[member="Popo"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Whatever automated security they encountered inside was quickly neutralized by the contingent of the Lowraiders at her side. Not that they were needed for long – about a click in, and Gorba’s mercs kicked the station’s AI in the nuts.

Couldn’t have come at a nicer time, too. With the defenses changing hands, there was nothing left stopping her from letting the Thousand off their leash. Nothing says ‘business’ like a band of fearless, raving berserkers cutting through enemy lines like slugs through paper.

Once she’d sicced them on the Wheel security further inside, the mercenary and her merry band of armored jawas set on the trail of Mando forces. Those same Bareesh mercs had reported a bunch of them converging on their asses down at the casino section.

And boy, did the knuckleheads ever love their gadgets. An EMP squad’d put the fear of god into a Mando faster than any Forcer ever could.

True enough, she found a bunch halfway to the entertainment district. Nothing battlefield worthy, but nothing to scoff at either. Aver slowed her pace and gauged the situation. Her overlay helpfully informed her the armor colors belonged to Clan Shysa.

“Hey, Shysa! If your boss’s here, let’s have us a few words before we start takin’ lives.” She held up her fist for the Lowraiders to hold fire. “Way I hear it, you folks ain’t in a great place right now, number-wise. Fighting with better odds, now… that’d sure help keep your losses low, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, a good businessman always looks to make deals that have a future, and this here Hutt…” Aver grinned behind her helmet – force of habit, “...he got his grave dug out already.”

[member="Entye Shysa"] | [member="Popo"]​