Ask Tatooine Being Good... For Money

[Flynn Tabouillot]

Flynn had to say that they were an odd bunch.

There were four others in the little private room with him right now and all of them were... odd in their own ways. Some because they just weren't human (which, he knew, was only 'odd' because he WAS human) and some were just a little bit creepy (the doctor lady sent shivers all the way down and back up his spine a half dozen times). Even he, himself, was a little bit odd he had the good grace to admit.

After all, what was someone as dashing and roguishly handsome as himself doing in such a place? Well, aside from seemingly pulling in a cast of minor characters to help catapult himself to the top of the... of the... well there weren't really "ranks" for awesome smugglers but he would be the first to make it seem like there was! Like that Han Solo guy from the history holos.

Except without the "general solo" stuff.

And without the Skywalker marrying.

That family was weird in the history holos that was for damn sure.

Whatever - he was getting side tracked.

"Alright so can we all agree that we're here to do our best to see an end to the wretched slavers who so callously have treated our new friend here?" he asked the group as a whole, gesturing to the one with the big ears, "I'm sure we can so I'll skip right to the most important parts."

He smirked a little bit as he reclined in his seat.

"Where are they? How many we gotta blast to oblivion? And, of course..." his smirk showed some teeth, "How much wealth do we think they've got that we can... ah... redistribute?"

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[Renard Harlow]

Renard was trying to pay attention to what was being said, though to be honest he was getting anxious being around other people for so long. Something about others just made his fear start to spike, something his parents had tried to foster in him. The only others he'd really met had been the thugs that had led to their deaths, so the feeling was warranted in his mind. Even now he heard voices in the back of his head that whispered that he would be taken advantage of at any moment, perhaps even kidnapped and forced to work under threat of pain or death. Yet, the sheer reality of his penniless situation kept those whispers at bay. The human...What was his name? Flan? Flute? Maybe it was Flynn...In any case, that human had let him onto his ship, even take a spare set of armor with the cape that he had found on board. While useful, the Shistavanen wanted more to try to fit in, thinking it would make him feel comfortable. Every adjustment that the human made to his outfit was mimicked as best as he could. For the moment he was silent, though he nodded in agreement with the questions. They weren't things he knew at the moment, though he would ponder them to see if he could find out HOW to answer them. He wondered if any of the slavers were nearby. Perhaps he wouldn't have to tear too much flesh from their body before they started to answer. Humans seemed to be quite adverse to pain.

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[Helen Holcomb]

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Helen Holcomb, ace pilot and now interstellar castaway, looked around at the little group which had gathered around her. The young Lepi, despite her military training, was slightly overwhelmed; in the last few hours, she had fought her way out of an alien slaver camp, stolen what she believed was a pursuit rocket, made a forced landing, wandered into an alien saloon and now had apparently assembled a team that was willing to help her storm the slaver camp and rescue her people. She listened to one of them - human, she believed was his species? - outline the situation, and nodded, before he turned to her with a question.

Blinking slightly in surprise, it took her a split second to respond, but her officer's training then kicked in and she got down to business.

"Hm! Right, yes. The slaver camp."

Helen walked over to one of the tables, which still had several empty glasses on it. She began arranging them, constructing a small representation of the camp, trying to make it as accurate as possible to her recollection.

"I'm afraid I didn't see all of it, but this is what I could remember. It's not big; these tumblers represent buildings, geodesic domes that they keep the slaves in. They have a big Quonset hut here, which seems to be their slave processing center. There's a landing pad, represented by this coaster, where they keep a couple of mid-sized ships."

"They have a couple of light... we call them hovercars, I don't know what you call them. They're unarmed. I saw maybe 10 slavers, plus some... robots? But I don't think they can fight."

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She had a bad feeling about this.

It was mildly amusing to see everyone shuffling so close together; truth be told, she was simply here for the credits, and for plausible gainful employment that did not involve her being thrashed about by her other employer's muscle. She was certain she could take Renard and the bunny... Helen? Helene? in a fight.

Flynn most definitely, but she wasn't going to dwell on that.

It was their last companion she wasn't certain about. Not the youth, but that could be partially it. It was like... meeting another person who also did not participate, but observe. In a way, the Doctor approved.

She crossed her arms, watching idly as Helen described the slaver camp, outlining the placement of everything.

All in all, it seemed wiser to be covert. Judging by the looks of this group, covert would be the last thing on their agendas. She would keep silent for the time being, eyeing the placement of all the buildings, and the possibility of amount of personnel. Until...

"Ships cannot be the only transport. How many seats do these... hovercars... have?" she crossed her arms, giving out a tired hum of bemused attention. "If there's an alternate transport, we can hijack it to access the wealth, so to speak." She stared straight at Flynn for another couple beats, then returned her attention to the makeshift map.

"And... how are we all, when it comes down to a possible fight?"

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[Wesk]

THEME​

Friend? She thought to herself with a sense of uncertainty. The teenager was only recently acquainted with the group present but it seemed like Flynn considered them all to share a bond. For now Wesk would say they were all curious acquaintances. The redhead did not feel any particular empathy for the Lepi but it seemed like going after these slaver could prove profitable.

One of Wesk's ears had a headphone in it, gently playing music while she sat through the rag-tag meeting of strangers. She was wearing a light jacket over her personal flight suit for the time being. The youth took a drink from her mostly full glass. The inside of the establishment was already a few degrees cooler than outside though she could still feel the heat well enough.

When it was Helen's chance to explain Wesk would look at the representation she made out of table-ware. As the Lepi added more and more detail the teenager did not show any sign of being bothered by the possible numbers. The hazel eyes continued to stare at the coasters trying to imagine what the place really looked like and what to do with the information.

As each moment passed questions bubbled inside Wesk's mind. She wanted to know as many details about this camp as she could. The white haired doctor made a few points and asked associating questions

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[Flynn Tabouillot]

Okay so they had some more information about the whole operation and that was good.

That was nice.

It was nice to be informed before you jumped into things, especially when you did what Flynn did so often and jumped into something with both feet first. The fact that the bunny woman had used the old drinks and coasters and such like miniatures was rather adorable but Flynn reminded himself to remain professional. And it was not, no matter what the romcoms said, professional to refer to one of your co-workers as adorable.

Friends or co-workers? He wasn't sure which would apply to them all yet since they hadn't actually done anything together yet.

Ten slavers who couldn't fight and some droids that were probably only minor battle-ready at best. Was it too early to start celebrating their flawless victory over these rapscallions? Probably but Flynn was only stopped from his preemptive celebration by a lack of any suitable champagne-like drink to top it off with.

"Depending where it is, there might be some big transport locally." he pointed out, "Perhaps a hoverail or something similar."

Lots of places had holorails, it could happen!

... okay so maybe he just wanted to hijack a train.

Whatever.

At the comment about combat he perked up slightly.

"I have dueling history." he declared grandly, "Handy with my sword and my two pistols!"

 

[Renard Harlow]

The second Helen started to move the improvised map into place, Renard's mind started to process everything just like he was trying to solve a puzzle. The location of the buildings, the approximate number of slavers, the landing pad, the speeders, the service robots, all the factors that Helen explained to them. Then, he looked between them all. He could see that the Doctor had a ruthlessness to her, so he knew she wouldn't hesitate to draw blood. Helen was shaken, but seemed to be from a military background, so her freezing seemed unlikely. The red-haired human woman was...hard to read, having perhaps a mask that made her depths quite hidden. And Renard himself...Well, these slavers were at best target practice. He'd only be upset if they shot him, which he hoped to never give them the chance to.

"I'm trained and capable of repairing anything from pistols to rifles and scatterguns, as well as creating grenades and other explosives. I'm also versed in tactics and strategy. I can hold my own." His scattergun wasn't looking quite right, so he would have to disassemble it later to find the problem. He had his stun pistol, though, and his grenades. He looked back at the diagram, mind racing again as he started to contemplate different avenues of attack. Hopefully there was a strategy that would maximize their chances of victory with minimal danger. Sure, it wouldn't be fair, but neither was life.

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[Helen Holcomb]

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Helen, at the Doctor's question, turned to the alien - being, she mentally reminded herself, she was just as alien to them as they were to her - who had asked her a question, nodding in acknowledgement. Thinking back, she tried to remember more details of her escape; after stealing the pursuit ship, the tiny hovercars had seemed fairly inconsequential. Still, she was trained for situations like this.

"They were a mix." She admitted. "I think there were a couple of 5-seaters, 1 driver and 4 passengers, and at least one that looked like what my culture would call a pickup truck; flat cargo bed, room for a driver and maybe 2 passengers."

At the next question, Helen smiled, crossing her arms.

"I may be a prop jockey - er, a pilot - but I'm Navy Air Corps. Passed marine infantry training with flying colors, not that the sergeants running the tests were particularly happy with that. Did advanced air-crew survival training, too; never know where you're gonna have to hit the hemp."

As one of the first females to successfully enroll in her nation's armed forces, Helen hadn't had an easy time of it during training, but she had tackled every obstacle the brass had put in front of her, both bureaucratic and physical. Even on an alien planet, she could still fight; her earlier escape had proven that.

Or at least it's proven I can get myself out of trouble. She thought to herself. Now, will I have the same luck going back in?

She would find out.

She turned to Flynn.

"Actually, you make a good point. We'll need transportation for something like this." She rubbed her chin. "There were about 2 dozen of my people being held in the domes when I left the camp. Even if we can neutralize all the slavers..."

Neutralize. She thought to herself What a nice, sanitary little euphemism.

"...I don't think it would be wise to keep the hostages at the facility afterward. We need a plan to get them home, or at least transport them to safety."

Helen rubbed at the base of one of her ears thoughtfully.

"They do have transport ships." She continued. "If we can catch at least one of them on the ground, we can use them to move the hostages afterward."

Turning back to Flynn, she pursed her lips.

"It should be noted that for every one of my people we can return, the governments I represent will be extremely grateful. They may even be amenable to some form of material reward. I don't know if any of my planet's currencies have an exchange rate with yours, but... I'm sure they can work something out. Maybe base metal reserves or something."

 

[Wesk]

Wesk had never seen a hover-rail in person. She had come across mentions of them in an article and was curious about their construction and functionality. Other than that possibility, Flynn seemed to just as speculative as the rest of them. The timid canine male voiced his own strengths. "Can you make concussion grenades?" She inquired since she only had a few. Once they were used there was no reusing them.

"You don't know where you're going to hit this hemp? I think we should know where we are hitting before doing anything" If there was an additional factors, Wesk wanted to know. The redhead said her words more as a passing comment. More often than not she found herself at a loss with references or sayings though that was because she did not recognize them for what they were to begin with and took things literally instead.

"So the intention is to feiry these slaves off planet and there are hostages now too? I have my ship as well but it is not meant for personnel transport." Her ship was fast and while it had seen better days Wesk had a degree of confidence with her level of skill. Any passengers would likely get stuffed into the cargo hold. At least it was empty for the time being though that was also partially why Wesk was even here. Work was not consistent or not well paying enough.

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[Dr Ilana Morata]

There it was again.

That bad feeling... she was pretty certain if they seemed to be so isolated from the rest of the galaxy, and be so far behind in technology that theirs was practically ancient in regards to theirs... she was fairly certain Helen's planet wouldn't be too thrilled with a group of aliens bringing back their people.

And judging from her earlier reactions to the mixed races here, it was probably the same slavers that took her people away. And if she was a fighter... she'd bet her medical holovids that they were actively keeping themselves alienated. Their technology and mindset would not agree... though she was so sorely tempted to test such an isolationist species with stimulus... she kept those thoughts to herself, however.

She could always afford a lab later, but she was fairly certain Helen would not take kindly to the Doctor taking a few... specimens... of her own.

Pity.

"I do not have a ship yet," she agreed with Wesk, head inclined slightly. "So as for transport... I have nothing at the moment." She looked bitterly chagrined at this thought. "But I can treat wounded, and am fairly certain combat is something I shall not have an issue with. So long as it is not against a patient of mine."

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[Flynn Tabouillot]

Well well well it looked like it was all coming together!

They had enough transports between the lot of them to get the slaves and themselves out and that was all that really mattered in the end. Getting there was something that could be worked out fairly easily. Either there was a rail there or they rode in on their ships - did it really matter how they got there?

Well... maybe.

"I've got a ship myself so I can ferry some and some of you without ships can hitch a ride with me." he encouraged them before adding, "Now how do we want to approach the camp?"

He shrugged.

"If we go in guns blazing, we'll end up killing some of the slaves or they will. I say we try and get to the base itself without raising any kind of alarms. I mean it's not likely that they'll have people here listening to us right?"

The door to the private room opened and seven armed figures entered, trying their best to look menacing.

Flynn blinked.

"... I mean it's not like naked twi'leks will just fall into our laps!" he called out before scowling as he reached for his sword, "Oh shut up, it was worth a shot."

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[Renard Harlow]

Renard was just pulling out one of the grenades to go into a scientific discourse on just exactly HOW he could make the grenades if he had the right parts when he noticed the thugs enter the room. He didn't even know who they were with, he just saw that they were looking at them in a menacing way. Oh HELL no, he wouldn't let them get even close, let alone threaten them or even speak. He hadn't survived this long by letting his aggressors have a chance. With a flick of his thumb he activated the grenade and with a seemingly lazy toss, actually calculated to not overthrow the explosive, he threw it into the midst of the thugs.

It took them a moment to realize that the fight had already begun and none of them had made the first move. The reversal in initiative was shocking, though five of their number reacted fast enough to dive away from the concussive blast. The other two, however, were caught right in the blast zone, hurling them back and knocking them out. Drawing his stun pistol, Renard kicked over the table to provide them with some cover, kneeling almost like a professional soldier would. For being quiet and almost neurotic, his trained reflexes were the real deal.

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[Wesk]

Wesk was contemplating the odds. Finally, and quite selfishly, she decided to stick with the group and go to this slaver camp. Chances are that if things make a turn for the worse I won't be the first to suffer the consequences. These strangers were a buffer and it made Wesk feel safe in a way.

"Unclothed twi'leks does not sound appealing." She commented. It could only end in confusion and most likely injury. "I wonder if headtails are heavy..." She stared down at the center of the table as she tried recalling any interaction with a twi'lek she had ever had. But those thoughts would fade away as she caught something amiss in the establishment.

Looking up she spotted the figures but also an object was flying towards them. Wesk's eyes flicked towards Renard who's posture was in a follow through pose to the toss. The freckle faced girl turned in her seat and bolted for the bar before leaping over it. The table was thrown and thankfully covered her movement. Fate, the Force, or whatever it was called must have been on her side since no harm came to her as she slid behind the bar causing napkins, glasses and other counter top items to fall to the ground. No blaster bolts or obvious signs of aggression seemed to follow the redheaded pilot though. Whomever Renard had grenaded was more occupied with a more obvious threat.

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[Helen Holcomb]

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Helen looked over at Wesk, blinking in slight confusion at the human's reply.

"Er, I don't think parachutes will be involved here. I only meant-"

Things happened very quickly.

First, the cantina door opened, and Helen watched a series of thugs file inside. The Lepi was still getting used to alien facial expressions, but she could tell they most likely meant bad news. She turned to look at them, tensing slightly...

...and then a grenade arced through the intervening space and landed in their midst.

Strictly speaking, Helen had never participated in live ground combat, but she knew an iron pineapple when she saw one. With a colorful curse, the Lepi vaulted Renard's overturned table...

...she didn't quite make it.

Helen was a beat too late in her reaction, and as she was vaulting over the table, she was caught by the concussion of the blast, which caused her to botch the landing. She tumbled into cover, cursing even more, and drew her blaster, making to peek up over the table and see what had happened to the thugs.

A few of them had been caught by the blast, it looked like, but the rest were getting up again. Helen crouched behind the table, aiming her weapon, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Ducking back down, the Lepi stared at the blaster, which had only just been repaired. In her fall, she had knocked it on something, changing the position of some of the controls. Muttering to herself, she fumbled to figure out which of the various levers and buttons was the safety catch...

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She had moved to get out of the way, but there was a small problem.

As the others managed to duck out of the way, Ilana was unfortunate enough to have had her back to the thugs... and when noting others' reactions, began to move herself.

Albeit whether it was the drinking, the all-nighters for surgery, or just plain exhaustion was anybody's guess. As she moved forward to find cover with the table and all the others, she staggered a step.

With the concussive blast, however, she stumbled, pitched over the knocked-over table, and felt her world black out.

At least for the moment, she was out for the count thanks to the surprise blast. She was a little done with being thrashed about... she was still nursing the wounds from earlier. But at least she wasn't conscious enough to question the wisdom of being in this merry little band.

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Spoiler: Doc's Roll

Doc's Blunder

 

[Flynn Tabouillot]

Well everything had decided to go to hell in a hand basket in the space of a few seconds and nothing seemed to be going right so far for his allies. Renard's grenade was effective in the way that it was so effective that it caught two of the damned thugs but it had also managed to tag their medical professional as well.

Two bad guys and one friendly doctor... was that still a net win? Flynn wasn't sure but he wasn't going to worry about that. Even as he was moving to present a harder target to hit, his mind was going a mile a minute with only one thought. That this was his first real taste of deadly combat with his new allies.

He needed to make an impression.

With two of the thugs downed by Renard and the other five still recovering their footing, Flynn drew his sword mid-charge as he surged forwards, thrusting the point of his blade forwards.

"Bit of a Point-less interruption gentlemen!"

... okay so maybe the quip wasn't so memorable but his blade pierced straight through the gap in the man's armor between torso and helmet, the blade stabbing straight through to his spine through his throat. Before anyone could take advantage of his bad quip (and extended stance), he wiped the blade to his right, tearing it free of the throat in a bright spray of arterial blood even as he slashed into the skull of a second thug who had decided to forgo a helmet.

"I'll work on the quips - I promise!"

Spoiler: Dice - Happy now green one?

Mediocre Quip, Strong Stab

 

[Renard Harlow]

By this point, Renard was completely in his head in regards to the battle. Everyone, including himself, was just a piece on a tactical game board updated in real time. He saw what his grenade did to his other two companions, lowering the values he had set for them as assets, though for some odd reason something deep inside told him he would have to apologize later. He'd never apologized before, war was war. These people were just tools for him to use, stepping stones to get to where he wanted to go...right? Though to be fair, the human male's strike with a sword was efficient and effective. His own score had increased, further intriguing the Shistavanen.

That was when he detected movement in his peripheral vision. One of the thugs had tried to flank them, keeping low to avoid detection before rushing at them where they were vulnerable. Renard's mental reflexes were far more than what this man could contend with, though. Even if he only had seconds, he still had enough presence of mind to lay a minor trap, seemingly keeping his attention on the other targets. Perhaps in his hubris, this supposedly surprise enemy was only using a vibrosword to attack. He could even see the confident smirk on the human's face as he eyed the Doctor's unconscious form as an easy kill. Then he crossed into Renard's kill zone.

With reflexes born from the paranoid teachings of his parents, Renard spun and lashed out with a hand to strike the thug square in the throat. A moment after he lashed out with the opposite foot, slamming down on the human's boot to break what bones he could. Still moving with momentum but out of control and stunned, the Shistavanen dropped his weapon and ducked slightly, letting the man come to him before grabbing his belt on both sides of his hips. Lifting and spinning, Renard used a surprising amount of strength to hold the thug up as high as he could before throwing him down onto the nearby bar. There was a loud crashing sound, wood splintering and metal shearing from the force, though the thug would never move again from the shattered spine and body. Without a word Renard spun, picking up his gun to keep covering his allies. Just another enemy down.

[Roll: 81 out of 100]

 

[Wesk]

Glasses shattered, sprinkling her with splattering beverages and turning containers into scraps showering over the covered teenager. Her eyes flinched with each smashed mug and glass. But she still managed to pull out her DC-17 blaster pistol.

There was a lull in the amount of weapon fire being directed towards her area. Now seems good. Her body rose from behind the bar and leveled the pistol towards the door. She fired several times. Ultimately it resulted in one man dropping to the ground with a new bolt impact marked on his chest.

Having dropped back into cover Wesk did not know much of what else was going on. Her heart was racing. Both hands were tight around her blaster pistol. Her eyes not able to look over the bar without risking injury. For now she remained behind the bar, with her pistol tightly held in her grasp.

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[Helen Holcomb]

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Helen flipped a lever on the side of her weapon, and grinned as it made a promising, energetic hum. The Lepi had seen rayguns - blasters - in action before, but had only ever been on the receiving end. Even escaping from the slaver camp, Helen had only ever brandished the weapon she had stolen, and this would be her first chance at firing one.

Training kicked in. Taking the pistol in both hand, she popped up from behind cover, aimed...

On Helen's home-world, the lessons of the last great global conflict were still very much part of military training. It was a war which had seen the introduction of aircraft, armored vehicles, automatic weapons, poison gas and - perhaps most important in Helen's situation - trenches. Though she had received the best infantry training her country could provide, it had drilled certain responses into her that were not ideal for the situation she found herself in. She was, in effect, poised to go "over the top," storming the enemy position while the other supported her from their own cover.

A Lepi, standing upright and aiming a pistol as she prepared to vault out of cover, made a fairly good target, even for a thug with a blaster.

Before Helen could clear the table, she felt a searing pain in her abdomen, dimly accompanied by a blaster's report. She tumbled backward, giving a cry of surprise and pain, landing hard on her back, her head bouncing off the permacrete floor and causing her to see stars. Struggling to raise herself up, she saw ragged, scorched hole in her flight suit on one side of her midriff, exposing a smoking, cauterized crater in her flesh. Oddly, it didn't seem to hurt much, but that was probably shock, some dim, logical part of her brain reminded her.

Helen's swearing was drowned out by more blaster fire.

Spoiler: Helen's Roll

My first 1!

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

The smells of seared flesh, burnt fur and blood were the first to trickle in, followed by blaster fire's hum... shattering glass... swearing.

She grimaced, feeling the thick coppery tang coat her tongue. Groggily, she managed to feel around as blurry images began to focus, and then there were other smells. The bite of spirits and their glasses smashed into the floor... when she managed to wobble sitting upright, she could feel the trickle of blood rolling down her chin, and pain radiating down her spine in red-lanced pulses. Compounded with a difficulty to breathe... and tinnitus.

Renard had lobbed something, and she got caught in it.

But it looked like she wasn't the only one. She saw the Lepi, Helen, leap into action, only to tumble back. She blinked owlishly as Flynn seemed to leap to action, and their young companion Wesk also seemed as active. Renard was...

Well. They had a couple left to go. But first...

She had to get to Helen. She began to drag herself over, and winced as the movement brought another shard of agony down her spine and wrapping into her chest.

The credits had better be good with this Flynn character, or else she'd have to abandon this reckless cause and find something slower. Like jumping out of an airlock. That sounded damned tempting right now.

"Hang on..." she rasped, and began to inch closer from their limited cover. At least she always had a few handy things on hand.

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Spoiler: Doc's Dice

Recovery