Zonju V Samba [ORC-Open]

[Izak Zinch]

[member="Cato Fett"]
[member="Coren Starchaser"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2rVnRwW0h8​

The armored capsule cockpit of the Iron Maiden Sith Fury TIE was filled with the screeching whooping of a BB-8 droid docked into its computer interface port. It’d sounded off incoming attacks from an entire First Order Tie Squadron that had managed to tail and harass the TIE Fury through out its exit out of hyperspace travel. Screech and after screech and beeps rang out in noisy daggers in the pilot’s ears. The pilot was handsome devil with dark eyes, short back beard, a broad brim black hat, black trenchcoat, and an electronic vapor cigar sticking out of his bristled lips. With his black gloved hands on the controls he spun the TIE Fury into a belly roll and dived on a dime straight down avoiding a green barrage of TIE blaster fire.

Plummeting down into a black void, Izak Zinch turned to scream his own screeching back at the BB-8 droid.

“I know that Peeper!” He bellowed, his voice was deep and smooth. The BB-8 droid Peeper turned the small cylindrical head on its ball towards him as if to give him a long and disappointed look before hollering at him once more.

“Why yes, I did in fact fire on them on purpose!” Izak said whipping his back to return Peeper’s glare. “That was the point! They have our cargo and I’m not letting them fly off with it!”

The Iron Maiden shook with vibrations of a violent streak of TIE blaster fire embedding itself into its thick solar plated wings. Hologram alarms and loud claxons bubbled in and out of visual and auditory existence. Peeper’s head swirled in annoyance as he interfaced with the ship electronical repair systems.

“Just do your job you ball scrap!” Izak barked before flexing his controls and spiralling the Iron Maiden in a sharp upward ascension.

The TIEs followed but, as they ascended the Iron Maiden rolled so that its top was facing the oncoming vertical group of the TIEs. Like a mad man Izak punched the throttle and the Iron Maiden flew in a sharp over dice right into the ascending TIE fighters in a head on nose-to-nose collision course. Peeper spun in a screaming tantrum.

“They wont!” Izak said before pressing on the fire controls letting out a barrage of blaster fire that tore through the surprised first three TIE fighters. The resulting explosion engulfed the Iron Maiden before it spat out the other side of the fire ball, now scorched and its paint scuffed. It spun about strafing the remaining First Order squadron members and flew right towards the First Order frigate.

Peepers screamed again. “I don’t care about counter measures, just tell me where the feth we are!” said Izak. Peepers grumbled and then accessed the internal navcomputer’s triangulation programming. Peeper bleeped and blooped for a moment as Izak throttled the Iron Maiden’s main thrusters once more blasting the TIE Fury right at the bridge skipping past turboblaster shots.

“I need name!” Izak spat.

Peeper spat back with a holomap projection on the Iron Maiden’s front panel.

“Zonju V?” Izak mimed the closest planet’s name in silence. He shrugged and then pushed the Iron Maiden into a dive off the side of the First Order frigate’s starboard side and once again plummeted into the deep void.

“Works for me, start blasting a signal Peeper. Let’s see who shows up.” Izak laughed with a sly smirk.

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

"Intruder alert! Get ready to fly!"

"Roger, roger" Griet acknowledged.

After spending a few nights grounded in a bad hangover, because of them overindulging in alcohol, Janick and Griet were both ready to take off in another combat mission. During this entire time, they were alchemizing drill bits, as if they operated on autopilot to do so. They had their own fighters laden with eight proton rockets, but not without first modifying their transponders so that they would not be showing their affiliation to the Outer Rim Coalition. They liked the ability for ORC combat pilots to undergo piloting missions on their own, which was something only the Sith Empire or the Silver Jedi could otherwise promise. In addition, she loaded her lightsaber onboard, if it came to boarding action. She even sensed the dirty hand of rogue First Order elements. So rogue First Order elements were encroaching on Zonju V? If we can capture the enemy ship, perhaps we can know exactly what caused the crew of that ship to go rogue - otherwise it's possible we may run into a shooting war against the First Order, she thought, while chucking her lightsaber next to her in the cockpit as the two of them took off on their combat mission, making for orbit, where the intruder alert has been sighted.

[member="Izak Zinch"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Cato Fett]

~///_ . _ . _ _ . _ _ _ . \\\~​

[TIE/SF TV-TYKO 3-1-9-14+11-21-7-1]​

[Brd.Cst E-99: All Range]​

[Emergency: General Assistance Requested]​

​

A shape winked out of the light, through Zonju V’s solar terminator, shuddering from realspace translation and trailing molecular detritus off its pectoral and dorsal wings. Secondary stabilization flaps yawed, finessing the longitudinal line, tracking gamely towards the broad frigate shadow squinting with running lights. Hesitant cannon fire sliced past the frigate over the starboard lines, a squadron of square-winged twin-ion fighters chasing down an angular sprinter trying to put distance between itself, the frigate guns, and the fire scoring just past its hulling.

Cato had three hundred hours approximate in his supplied Alpha-class Xg-1 Star Wing. Seventy five in simulation, ninety in patrol flight, thirty spaced over a score of active pirate engagements chasing down bandaged fighter-maulers scaring freight traffic in the system, and the rest undergoing maintenance. It was a refurbished Assault Gunboat, general deployment model, nondescript save for an ancient pedigree. It was modest, the steering weighty, with a compact control assemblage placing every necessary console bank within a simple wrist-reach. Cato shunted power from aft shields to the Dual Line engines, hurrying after the dogfight.

A readout chattered: long range scanning, emitting from the frigate. Targeting lines had zeroed-in. A general wave comm-message, prerecorded, warned his presence off and threatened with action if not immediately complied to. Cato twitched port, tracking the lone TIE-Fury trying to work its way out of the fighter net. Machine jetsam, cooked, twisted things half-cooked inside compromised flightsuits, gently floated through the unfiltered sunlight. The Fury had taken kills, and wasn’t meaning to slow.

The Mandalorian pursed his lips into a narrow line, tapped across a pad-slate mounted on his seat. He hailed the Fury, hoping his reserved encryption would manage. An electronic envelope was silencing general space surrounding the frigate; jamming measures.

“This is Gunboat Challenger, ID One-Six-Zero-Zero-One-Eight-Four-One. Got your distress, hot shot, what’s the story? What am I looking at?”

[member="Izak Zinch"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Janick Beauchamp"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The explorer was working on moving more things back into the galaxy. Sure, the Dawn Treader was home, but that didn’t mean that Coren Starchaser was going to keep all his material there. He had a few things he needed. The Tachyon Rising and Shortfin were the major ones, a quick freighter and a shuttle focused on getting him from point A to B very quickly. But right now, the explorer was in his Rassilon-class fighter. Moving it through the Core was always a trip, because, well, Coren Starchaser didn’t get along with most people in the Core it seemed. All high toned, and fancy, he was the farthest thing from a Core dweller, and had been even when he was a pilot for one Imperial warlord or another.

He wasn’t used to flying without Porter, the faithful astromech that was waiting for him at Rebellion Actual. But the implants, as Coren was very heavily cybernetic to connect to his ships, were helping out a lot.

Now, the Rassilon was pulled from hyperspace to recalibrate a jump, not heading directly towards the base but taking a round-about way. The fact that he was now experiencing that pain of a distress call coming through made the pilot shake his head. Right. Time to change course. Zonju… where the feth was that?

Closing his eyes, he found it on the map, and started to plot the jump. Hyperspace wasn’t a simple thing, but for someone that touched the Force like Coren did? Many things could be done. The small fighter was soon gone from planetary radar before it was able to be tracked. The trick was, he’d be coming into the system just after the Gunboat made a call to the ship under fire.

[member="Cato Fett"]
[member="Janick Beauchamp"]
[member="Izak Zinch"]

 

[Mala]

[Aboard the First Order Frigate]

There were many bonuses to being a stowaway, especially if you were able to get yourself onto a big ship with plenty of resources to exploit and were small and crafty enough to not get caught. For the most part, the crew of the First Order frigate were unaware they had one on board, save for complaints from cooks about food going missing and an increased rise of report of personal items going missing, but the Captain, it seemed did not feel that a handful of what he would call 'isolated incidents' were worth investigating.

This meant Mala was all but free to do as she pleased, using the ships ventilation systems to get around and observe this new group of victims. She'd concluded early on that she didn't like them. They smelt too much like boot polish and starch and their noses were far too high in the air for an urchin like her to not snarl at, but she was content enough to take their shiny objects and eat their food and they were happy to utterly ignore her existence, so for her, it worked. She'd disembark the next time the frigate set down and find a new home on that planet, or grab a ride somewhere else if she didn't like it.

Her fur bristled as the Captain passed beneath into view of the grate she was laying in, watching the crew of the bridge. She'd given them all names, the comms officer she'd dubbed Squawker, because that's all he seemed to do, then there was Meat Head 1 and Meat Head 2, she didn't really know what they did but they looked like meat heads with shoulders too broad and necks too thick and their faces screwed up in a funny way when they concentrated. Then there was the Stick, skinny little techie, the Buttlicker, second in command and of course the Captain, who Mala simply called Top Bastard.

The thrum of the turbolasers made Mala's hair stand on end and she bared her teeth in a silent snarl. She did not like that noise, it reminded her of death, pirates and lots of nasty things. Nasty things were happening. Mala retreated, moving silently to another grate where she was closer to the tactical display. there were lots of blue dots. And two red dots. Unfair fight, perhaps it was time for Mala to get off this bucket and find another one to pick her up...

With a stifled giggle of excitement she shuffled away, and picked her way carefully through the vents towards the engine room. She could even the fight out for them a bit, maybe. Then get off....but not before getting her shiny's.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Janick Beauchamp"] [member="Izak Zinch"]