RPlog:Corellian Slave Liberation

The star port of Corellia, in all its ships and cargo was still an immense and impressive sight. The traffic around here was about normal, and of course there were the customs inspectors and other CorSec units around followed by the undercover ISB agents around. One hangar in specific was given more attention by these undercover agents as earlier today a few trucks came and hauled off several crates for some destination on the planet. Otherwise they were loading up a freighter with similar crates, and that freighter was scheduled for takeoff in a few hours - destination Kessel. The rebel fighters that were on the ground only numbered 6, and all they had were concealed heavy blasters. They were in a small building across from the star port warehouse that did not attract the attention of the ISB folk, at least not yet.

A number of gizkas seem to have taken up residence in the area of the warehouse over the last day or two, setting up a colony and occasionally hoping out of one of the many nooks and crannies warehouses tend to have to bother and annoy people. The obnoxious little creatures reproduce at an alarming rate and become a nuisance in very short order. And so it is no surprise to anyone to see members of the city's animal control dressed in their uniforms entering the area, carrying the equipment they would need to subdue the infestation. The majority of the members of this team, including Shael and Galatea, enter the warehouse that the infestation seems to be centered around, and Shael smiles warmly to the three rebels as she enters, setting down the crate of 'animal control' equipment she had been carrying. "I hope your little roommates haven't been causing you any trouble," she says brightly.

Being an Imperial deserter had made Galatea reluctant to join such a mission for fear of compromising it however, it didn't take her long to dismiss that small bump in the road and focus on the possibility of making a concerted strike. Even if it was laced in subterfuge. To deal with her appearance, she has contacts that give her eyes an almost orangish appearance. Her hair carries flakes of a fiery tinge as well suggesting an addiction to Glitterstims. To top it all off, she carries the vials she found on the abandoned cruiser both as a momento and an alibi if her identity comes into question. Galatea flanks Shael, carrying a case of her own. On top, the contents appear to be animal control related: gloves, nets and various other things. Hidden inside a compartment at the very below, hollowed into the bottom structure which would normally be used for withstanding swift drops, a number of detonators, plastic-like explosive and the piece de resistance, a small sonic emitter to drive the gizka absolutely batty. She fixes the rebels with a discerning gaze.

The freighter was still being loaded, there were only 10 crates left. Yeah, it wasn't the most efficient way to transport the scum, but in their subdued state and the drugs they were given they didn't need to go through the hassle of carbonite. The nasty little creatures around them didn't bother the agents so much, but they were very careful as to exterminate any that were getting close to their 'cargo.' A few of the loading crew pick up the next crate and work around the extermination team, but there is one agent that really likes looking at Galatea. So much so that he walks up to her and starts to see something familiar about her in one of his briefing notes about those wanted by the Empire. But he sees her and wraps his arm around her, leaning in close to get familiar with her. Smoothly he comments, "Hey, I hear your job doesn't give you too much time off. I could get you a month vacation from there if you're wanting to relax..."

Galatea watches the man curiously, allowing herself to be relatively receptive to his passes. She slowly reaches into her front breast pocket and pulls out a small cylinder of some sort of tightly bound leaf. Balancing it firmly in between her two lips, she hunches over slightly and sets it alight with a swift flick of a lighter produced from her right pocket. Taking a drag, she frees it from her lips to leave it dangling between her index and middle finger. She leans forward to bring her face within an inch of his own. "Somehow," she says, letting smoke drift out of her nostrils and mouth, "I doubt some bantha herding freight loader such as yourself can afford what I need to relax."

Commander Stail, dressed in his own somewhat baggy animal control uniform, turns to frown disapprovingly at the man hanging off one of the members of his team, and heaves a heavy sigh when he sees his 'co-worker' lighting up. He turns the majority of his attention on the man hanging off of her, however, glowering convincingly at the man. "/You/ sir can wait until we're on lunch break before you start propositioning any of us. We have a bit of a problem to deal with here, and we have other calls to get to when we're done." He turns back around, giving Shael (who has naturally turned to watch the goings-on) a 'what do you think you're staring at look. "Let's get to work, folks."

The man complains a little saying, "I'm not some lowly freight hauler, I have a far more important job. Why don't you and me go take a break, or I'll be forced to pull up your entire file. Maybe I'll have a reason to arrest you, then get you to relax." His tone become threatening real fast as he tugs on her a little harder. Something wasn't adding up. These guys were supposed to be a bunch of idiots they could play with, weren't they? As for the actual loading of the freighter, two more crates were placed on, eight more to go.

"Oh, how dreadful a thought being handled by all those sharp, handsome, uniformed men at the processing station. What table scraps would possibly be left for you?" she croons, snapping her jaw in a wolfish fashion at the man before setting her eyes on the man's companion and grinning devilishly. She tosses the narcotic away in some arbitrary direction at the Commander's words, leaving it smoldering on the ground. "Now you've gotten me in trouble with my boss." She shakes her head and gestures towards his companions. "Perhaps they're more gentlemanly than you."

Commander Stail definitely doesn't like the way things are going just this moment. Gesturing with his eyes for Shael to precede him into the warehouse where their contacts should be waiting, he starts setting down his case as if he's setting up shop for their little extermination effort. "Rali, last chance. Get over here and help me with this." "I'll see how things look inside the warehouse," Shael calls back to Stail, staring in that direction as what she hopes passes for a casual pace. Things were probably going to go pear-shaped in short order, at this rate...

The ISB man really wasn't falling for her innocent guise, but lets the rest of the team do their thing. Another ISB agent comes up to the cleaning team and says, "They're all over the warehouse, we just need them away from the crates for now, then the place is all yours. Though we're going to need to see her credentials and when you hired her. Also at what location." He was official and business like, but probably also was the leader here. There were a few other CorSec guys and other heavier armed persons around, but well off on the perimeter. The guy around Galatea firmly grips her now and starts to lead her into their central office as he says, "I'm going to need your credentials and what you're doing here on planet, as I suspect you have some other addictions I don't think you're supposed to have."

Galatea casts a glance towards where her companions had gone and resigns herself to being a sacrificial lamb for the moment. At the very least, she may have the opportunity to subdue him in more-- personal quarters. "Alright, let's do that. Not very gentle, are you flyboy?" mocks Galatea, strolling alongside him in a half-jittery pace. "Your mum was a wookie, wasn't she?" She nods, sagely, and grins to suppress the urge to bite her lip.

Shael enters the warehouse where they were meant to meet the rebels, hoping that they had not been likewise stopped and harassed by the vigilant ISB agents outside. "Things are about to get ugly outside, I think," she says in a low and urgent voice. "We have a sight complication." "We don't tend to carry that sort've thing out into the field," Stail informs the ISB agent that approaches him, looking up at him from a crouched position, a frown crossing his features. "She is a fairly recent hire. What exactly do you suspect the problem is?" He glances briefly towards Galatea, not liking it one bit as she begins to be led off. They may have to start the fireworks a little bit sooner than planned.

The lead ISB agent says to the other man, "We don't need a reason to investigate anyone. The fact that you are even allowed here is a privilege, and not one that you should be worrying about. Get back to work now before I throw you all into the slammer." Waving a hand at the other man the ISB lead figures that the other guy could have some fun, but more importantly it appeared as if she was receiving drugs on their planet. Not something they were willing to let continue. And if drugs were getting in, they wanted to stop the leak as soon as possible. For the guy taking in Galatea he pulls out his blaster, but only so much as to poke it in her back as he walks away with her. Nobody else can see that fact though, and he makes it clear to her who's in charge. "That's enough lip. Keep that up and I'll take your head off here and now."

Galatea continues to step in a haphazard moment at the man's lead. Her mind races as she considers her possibilities but it seems that her current course of action is the best one for her colleagues. She doesn't rush the adventure, even managing to resist the urge to attack when the blaster is jabbed into her back. "Getting frisky are we?" she grins and chuckles having it trail off into a wheeze and a cough as she forces the last of her air out of her lungs. She feigns recovery and fans her face with her left hand. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

"All right, guys, time to get to work then!" Commander Stail calls out to the other 3 members of his team (which includes Shael and Galatea). His words are picked up by a com hidden in the folds of his shirt, carrying them to the two team-mates not currently in sight. He starts unbuckling the case he carries with him. The other marine under his command starts following suit, and in short order the two have pulled out two items that are almost guaranteed to get them notice in short-order. Gasmasks and gas-canisters. The pair activate the canisters, setting out a smoke that will make it far more difficult for those in the area to see and breathe with ease, and slip on the masks which include goggles giving them heat-readings that help them determine the locations of others in the smoke. Inside the warehouse, Shael hears the man's command and starts retrieving her own mask, as well as pulling her blaster out of the case she had been carrying. "Yeah, things just went south. Masks on and lets get out there."

Jabbing the blaster into Galatea's back the agent smiles and just adds, "Keep that up and I'll permanently fix the cough. Keep moving you piece of filth. Soon they're at the main ISB office, and he pushes her in through the doorway. Once inside it seems luck does not favor her as there are another 3 agents at the table playing of game of sabacc. Pushing her over to a chair that seemed worthy of torturing people he commands her, "Sit." Meanwhile, there are four containers left to be loaded onto the freighter, and a few of the loading crew were already leaving as it would only be a matter of moments before they were aboard. Still, if the rebels were paying attention 8 of these crates were shipped off to somewhere else on the planet. For now, the freighter was starting to get the final preparations in order, the two rebels there infiltrated going and staying aboard with the last of the crates. Three more lay in wait for the NR signal. Commander Stail was now free to conduct his operation, though one of his people lay in the hands of the ISB. A slight kink in their plan. Though they set off the gas it is a sure sign that something is amiss to the ISB and guards.

A cry of panic rings out from one of the guards as they try to figure out what is going on, but start coughing incessantly as their eyes start to water. A sure fire sign of the age old tear gas. The three rebels in the warehouse don their masks and draw their weapons, ready to go with Shael on her command.

"So these are your friends?" Galatea chimes in, eyeing the occupants with the aim to appraise for a brief moment before complying with the order given. "Scruffy looking bunch," she says, crossing one leg over another and weaving her hands across her chest. With the sound of the erupting chaos outside, Galatea's heartbeat races, bringing a soft flush to the exposed skin around her collar. Still, she continues to wear the face of smug resistance - much like a disciplined teenager.

Vengan offers Stail a tight grin, reaching into his 'toolchest' and producing a nocked-down EXK-10 blaster rifle.  His fingers flicker in a complicated gesturing at the other Marine, who nods and assumes a ready position next to Stail to support Shael's operation. Loosening the front of his jumpsuit to provide access to the web gear and armor beneath, Vengan peers around the corner and begins trotting towards where he last saw Galatea being taken off towards, keeping his profile low and his weapon vaguely out of sight. In the smoke and gas, it would take a keen eye to notice anything more than a coughing, gagging technician fleeing the smog.

Shael has her mask on and weapon out in short order, and offers the rest of the supplies in her case to the rebels inside the warehouse. She knows her limits, and using things like explosives are well beyond them. If they're better able to use the supplies, than they're welcome to them. Opening the door to the warehouse again, Shael makes her way towards Stail who has taken cover behind a convenient crate, and opened fire on the ISB agents. The trick here is going to be not accidentally shooting the two rebels who have infiltrated the loading operation.

In the small room where Galatea is being kept the man holding her (Marx) rudely remarks, "Yeah, they're my comrades." Not strapping her down yet but keeping an eye on her he waves to one of the other men who picks up a heavy blaster pistol and trains it on her saying, "One wrong move and you're dead." He gruffly says, "Marx, I'll keep an eye on her, might as well go check out what the frack is going on outside." Marx nods, and waves to the other two men to get up as he starts transmitting a code to the local garrison for backup. Something was really not right here. The other two men grab blaster rifles from within the room and check their armor - breastplates and helmets, then prepare to thwart the oncoming assault. They're not leaving the room quite yet, but soon enough they'd go to investigate further.

Outside the few ISB agents that are coherent enough from saying out of the gas begin shooting the rebels that were trying to take their freighter, no doubt for the live human cargo within the crates that were being loaded aboard. Even they are calling for support, and it would come in due time. Last they knew there were Five on the cleaning team, one was now inside. And out of the warehouse another three more were coming to support them. Where they were all coming from is the only thing the ISB and COMPNOR agents could think of. Still, that left seven to deal with outside - for now.

Galatea continues to bide her time, waiting for the four inside of the building to act to the chaos or otherwise engage in some sort of activity involving her in a negative way. There was no way she could take them all on, she was no Jedi, and all of her equipment was in the cases so that they could get by the various checks to allow them entrance to the hanger area. Posturing up the back of the chair, her foot bobs up and down, and her knee pivoting on her other one in a seeming arbitrary way. She still wears a savage grin, portraying a certain level of mindlessness.

Once the blaster fire starts, Commander Stail (a veteran of the Naval Special Operations) grins at Gunny Sergeant Handon, another tried and true warrior.  he says through his gas mask. The Commander loosens a grenade, popping the top and arming it with his thumb. Handon chuckles, imitating the action with his own frag.  The two rise as one and hurl their twin grenades towards the emerging ISB agents, immediately ducking for cover again. They begin popping around and above the cargo crates they've taken cover behind, shooting in quick, controlled bursts at the Imperials approaching their position. The action is a practiced drill for the two veterans, skilled in the use of their weapons and used to such close-order fire.

Meanwhile, Vengan slips in through the outer doors of the security building where Galatea is being held and starts jogging down the corridor with surprisingly quiet strides, blaster in one hand. He slows, then stops when he's outside the holding room, chancing a brief eye blink of a peek through a window to gauge the situation. The Marine unhooks a flash grenade from his chest gear, priming the device for a half-second detonation timer and prepares to make his move into the room.

Shael makes a quick double-check to make sure that her blaster is, for once, not set on stun after she takes cover near the Commander, and pops her head over the top of her crate for a peek at the chaos on the other side. Her heart pounds loudly in her chest as it picks up speed. Really, Shael could probably count on one hand still the number of combat situations she had been directly involved in. She takes a deep, slow breath, before finally training her blaster towards the ISB agents and opening fire herself.

As Stail and his other trooper start lobbing grenades at the ISB agents, they dive for cover. The COMPNOR troopers around do the same thing, and the situation was getting out of hand in a hurry. One of them doesn't make it to cover as the grenades go off, and is blown back into a crate with less than the optimal number of appendages. The troopers with heavier rifles and weapons are able to come in now, though there are not that many of them and they'd have a tough time dealing with this sort of threat, not to mention it was hard to see through a lot of the smoke that was starting to fade. The four last crates to go aboard were still sitting outside, and it wasn't likely they would be moving anytime soon.

On the inside the two COMPNOR troops with the rifles see Vengan peeking around the glass and take no chances, opening up a volley that blasts out the window, turning a lot of the glass to molton slag. Shouting one keeps an eye on the door ad the other rushes out, "We have targets! Rebels are here!" Marx is quickly following the other trooper out into the hall to apprehend the rebel sighted, while the one guarding Galatea grabs her by the collar and shouts at her with the blaster at her head, "Get out of the chair and up against the far wall, on your knees, now!" Appearantly they had no qualms taking her out if it meant they all were going to die.

The assault shuttle Gamma-3 settles down on the tarmac. Repulsolift engines are still spooled up with a low pitched whine as the boarding hatches pop open. Two armored figures, one in white Stormtrooper armor and another in black Scout Trooper looking armor, disembark from the shuttle. They are followed immediately thereafter by nine Stormtroopers. The armored shock troopers advance towards their target building as Gamma-3's engines spool up to a high pitched whine and lifts off to loiter above the star port.  crackles over the comlink as Sig asks for the latest update.

TK-4463 moves off of the assault shuttle with the rest of his detachment. His blaster rifle is in his arms as he looks towards the black armored trooper. He nods briefly before turning his attention back towards the warehouse adjusting his coms and sending his armor through a final set of check outs waiting for the senior trooper to give the detachment orders.

Galatea straightens from her seated position and peers into the gun toting COMPNOR troop's eyes with sympathy, regardless of the position they had put her in. She was intimately involved with the fear that they were experiencing and understood how helpless it made them feel. Even more disconcerting is how erratic she knew it would make their decisions. Having to rely on Vengan to put her into a more advantageous position sent a twinge of panic rippling through her nervous system manifesting itself in a way that made Galatea feel distant and disjointed from the events around her. Discarding her wound up junky visage, she calmly sets the palms of her hands against her ears, strolls over to the wall and drops to her knees with her rear settled on the heels of her boots pressing her weight into her toes. Squeezing her eyes as tightly as she possibly can, she waits for the screech of a flash grenade or for events to play out for ill or better.

Vengan shifts sideways and, lunging from the ground, slams his boot into the door, kicking it open with a powerful thrusting motion.  he shouts out, in a language that only Galatea would likely recognize. His words are followed a moment later by a cylindrical object, flying through the air in an arc. The flash grenade soars majestically for all of half a second, before exploding in a thunderous concussive blast that sends anything not glued down- and chained to boot- flying. There's barely a breath and Vengan comes flying into the room in a low crouch, his blaster rifle tucked into his shoulder in a motion he's doubtlessly practiced a thousand times. The weapon *crack crack cracks* rapidly, sweeping the ISB agents nearest Galatea's location and traversing the room quickly. Vengan moves laterally opposite the motion of his blaster, looking for cover behind the first object that's available to him.  his respirator crackles urgently.  He maintains that disciplined, precise fire that is so much evidence of his Marine training, conservation and efficiency in operation.

"Copy, Commander," Shael replies through the com imbedded in the gasmask she wears. Trusting the marines to cover her, she gestures for the rebels to follow her, hoping the gas is still thick enough to obscure the view of the ISB agents. She moves towards the crates that still sit in the middle of the combat zone, inspecting how they're secured so she can hopefully get them open, and get the captives out.

The tarmac begins to turn into a hotbed of activity. On one side next to the hangar is the freighter in question with the firefight between the ISB agents and the rebels. Next to the hangar is the security building where the call for help came from, and where Galatea is being held as a hostage. Though across the tarmac lands the Imperial assault shuttle, and that no doubt brought reinforcements for the Imperials, and a new round of problems for the rebels. With the new troops on the ground and the commanding ISB down and out from the grenade blast, Marx is the next one in line and speaks up from within the building. "Situation is that there is a rebel, possibly more inside the security building trying to free a captive we are holding." In between shots there is another report from outside, "We have about 7 men out here we're in a firefight with. They're trying to take the ship!"

Somewhere in the middle of the fight there were two men trying desperately to get the final four crates loaded aboard the ship, and quite possibly were working for the other side and not the Imperials. Even aboard the vessel there is a report from the man on the inside, "There are four of us, armed with heavy blasters sir. Situation is calm aboard the ship, attempting to secure the hatches." All the agents aboard the ship could hope for was that the rebels didn't try to assault them, as they were not equipped for such an action. As Shael gets to meet up with the two loaders they try to find a way to crack open the crates, but it would take a bit of time to accomplish that.

In the security room the situation was tense, though the man guarding Galatea was rewarded with her compliance, and now was facing away from the doorway and at the back wall, with his blaster at her back. Marx was taking one of the troopers out to the hallway when Vengan throws in the grenade, it goes off - blowing out the eardrums of all the folks in the room, including Galatea's ears. In his rapid fire he's able to take down Marx and the one trooper going out, but the last trooper pauses with the man entering, not being able to get a good shot due to going blind, but he still fires in that general direction. The man guarding Galatea goes to the ground and as he shoots out of instinct, Galatea is able to get out of the way. Though the problem for her now is that there still are two very capable and armed men in the room with her and Vengan, and no weapon was within reach - the man that was guarding her still could see too.

A burst of encrypted data floods the Imperial forces' helmets as the latest intelligence updates their HUDs. As they advance towards the freighter and security building, the troopers split into two groups. Five advance on the freighter, the other five and the black armored trooper advance towards the security building. The influx of data does not include a hurled projectile that lands near the group of six troopers and detonates. The concussion wave and shrapnel send the group tumbling towards the ground.  is blared over com as Sig impacts hard against the duracrete. While their armor may have kept the troopers from sustaining any life threatening damage, the dozen have lost precious time to assault the building.

TK-4463 proceeds with his squad, blaster cradled in his arms, as he looks from side to side. The glint of light off of the inbound grenade sets off the proximity alarm on his HUD. The Corpsman jumps to his side, landing in a crouch and raising his blaster. He takes aim in the direction the grenade came from, moving back to his feet to advance as his squad gets itself back together, flicking the selector off of stun on his blaster, We are under fire, call targets as you see them and engage.

The metallic chink of the of the grenade and its successive explosion are the last things Galatea hears as she shifts her weight to the side and springs with all the desperate force her legs can muster. Silence consumes her senses leaving her in the grip of blissful serenity that leaves her completely oblivious to the blaster fire that nearly ends her short career as a member of the New Republic military. Her asylum's tenure is short lived however, as she connects ungracefully with the hard plasteel floor. Shaken, but not completely disoriented, Galatea lets her anger for the Imperials twist her pain into reserves of energy that she fixates on her captors. Acting as accurately as she can within the confines of the yellow and white dots that marr her vision, she vaults off of the ground from a crouched position, driving towards the man with the bestial intent to end his life with her bare hands.

Vengan turns his blaster towards the man towering over Galatea, blaster muzzle tracking ominously. He stays his finger at the last moment before Galatea lunges, swearing under his breath at the Private. He pivots his hips awkwardly and instead fires at the remaining ISB agent, blaster rifle crackling with three quick shots as Vengan continues to strafe laterally towards Galatea and the ISB agent she's grappling with.

Outside, Handon shifts upright and fires off three shots at the Stormtroopers while the grenade is thrown. Stail tosses the grenade and ducks, just in time to see Handon go down hard from a hard impact high on his chest. The grizzled Marine growls in pain and hits the tarmac, struggling upright and putting his back to the cargo crates. "I'm hit! It's not good!" he says through gritted teeth. The Marine waves off Stail and reaches for his emergency medikit, administering self-aid while Stail continues to fire.  He makes a sharp gesture at Shael.  he declares, while Handon slings his weapon and draws his sidearm with his good arm. The Marine struggles to a seated position, but is unable to shoot from his current location.

When they finally get the first of the crates open... Shael lets out a faint curse as she gently shakes the shoulders of the girl inside: a girl about her own age. "Com'on... wake up, buddy. Wake up." The others continue working at the other crates only to find similar results: the man, woman and boy in the other crates are not waking up either. Shael is just about to speak into her own com when Stail's orders crackle out across them. Yeah, that's what she was going to say. Turning her attention towards the rebels standing near her, Shael tilts her head towards the shuttle that rested not far from them. They would indeed be attempting to take the shuttle rather than evacuate it. Leaving the four captives where they are for the moment, since she can't very well carry them and fight to take over the craft at the same time, she starts towards the shuttle's boarding ramp.

The brawl inside the small room was really heating up, and after that last blast in the room Galatea's captor was in dire pain, and now unaware of many of the sounds happening around him. As Galatea falls and lunges at him there really isn't anyplace for him to go, much less try to get a good defense up to stop her. Crumpling under her lunge the guard falls to the floor, rather ineffective and out of the way of combat for now. The other man in the room was still blindly pulling the trigger at the doorway, or at least what he thought was the doorway. With Vengan still coming the blinded man can't really do much to hit him, and ends up taking three to the chest, crumpling back in the room. With the last guard down for the count at the moment, it leaves a precious opportunity for Galatea and Vengan to get out of dodge.

The freighter was under assault still, though the entry ramps were closed and thus the reason the last four crates were not able to make it aboard. But with the help of Shael and the other two corellian rebels they are open them, and free the incapacitated prisoners. However, as Shael makes her way up the ramp she quickly is going to find that the door is closed, but seemingly not locked. With the new wave of reinforcements here, the ISB and COMPNOR troops rally and get a new rush of adrenaline, thinking they can take on anything. Two of them with basic chest plates, helmet, and rifles get up and storm the position where Stail and a few of the other rebels were at, hoping to overrun it.

The sprawled troopers scramble back to their feet, except for one. A piece of shrapnel found the one in a million mark between the armored plates. Hamstrung, the trooper hobbles up and collapses onto his knee. The squad leader, TK-4470 radios in on comlink . Sig, along with the other four troopers advances towards the building, leaving the wounded trooper behind. Another trooper gets winged in the arm by Handon.  the squad leader remarks casually. Another squad member jokes over com   TK-4470 barks. Having pulled ahead a couple meters from the other troopers, Sig pulls out a string a detcord and readies it. He begins affixing the explosive on the door to make a breach for the squad to enter.

Galatea quite literally snarls as her blow connects with her captor sending a rush of pleasure rippling through her muscles followed by the wave of relief that follows the realization that, for the moment, she and Vengan had the upper hand. The effect of fighting while deafened is strangely surreal, making her acutely aware of the emotions she is experiencing as she carries her momentum onward towards the door. She desires to kill the man so badly, to tear out the man's intestinal tract and strangle him with it, the only thing that stops her is the revulsion of how similar she really is to that which she ran away from and how right that smooth talking agent really was. Visibly shaken, she taps Vengan on the shoulder and darts out of the doorway into the hallway.

TK-4463 stays quiet and makes no outside motions that would give any signal as to what he were doing. He is giving orders though, through the MFTAS system in his armor, pointing out targets and marking objectives, a pair of troopers form up on him and the three begin to lay down suppressing fire on the Rebels trying to board the shuttle, as long as members were left behind, it would not take off. He flicks the selector on his blaster rifle to burst and starts to discharge volleys of heated red blaster gaaag bursts

Vengan stops just long enough to put his boot into the downed ISB agent's jaw before grabbing Galatea's shoulder with his free hand. His fingers waggle in her face rapidly. ~Strap up.~ His fingers spin and he presents his sidearm to the private. Armed and armored, the Marine Captain advances towards the doorway with rifle raised and starts jogging back towards the firefight outside, moving as quickly as he can.

Outside, Handon turns awkwardly and tries to fire off a shot with his blaster pistol, but the effect is more to lay fire down than anything else. Stail, on the other hand, maintains that firing discipline so instilled in the Naval Special Operations group. He switches his rifle to fully automatic and starts chugging at the Stormtroopers, determined to suppress the fire coming in at Shael's intrepid band.

Inside the security building Vengan and Galatea were able to get out of the small room from the agents, but their exit took them to the main door which Sig was breaching right about... now. With a loud bang the door blows inward, creating a wide path for the troopers to file into and apprehend the rebels and potentially rescue their own forces, which have grown strangely quiet. Outside, the fight continues and the troops on board keep their vigil about securing the ship, even though they only had blasters on two of them. The pilot was a corellian rebel as well, but was still laying low and waiting for the right time.

Shael reaches the control panel for the shuttle's boarding ramp and punches the buttons without feeling much hope. I mean, obviously they would lock up, right? Wrong. She feels (short lived) elation as the ramp starts to open. The next thing she feels is a searing pain as blaster fire slams into her side and burns through the light armor she wears. She lets out a cry as her knees crumple underneath from the shock of the sudden and unexpected pain. One of the rebels is soon at her side, but she shakes her head, nodding her head towards the inside of the shuttle. "I'm fine. I'll hold things here." Right. Sure Shael. Somehow she doubts she's in much shape to hold anything. She'll try, though.

 Sig announces over com as the detcord placed and the detonator attached. He rotates to the right side of the rectangle of explosives and hunkers down in to a crouch position and withdraws a flash bang that is held close to his chest plate.  There's a few moments of silence over the com channel as the troopers take cover against the building, then a deafening explosion. The armor's baffles and suppression systems keep the noise from deafening the stormtroopers, but the pressure wave causes their ears to pop nonetheless. The flash bang is tossed into the impromptu doorway as sound returns to their audio pickups Go go go. With that the white armored troopers flood into the room.

Squad 446 forms into a more secure firing line, one trooper goes down and the Medic, TK-4463 steps back to tend tot eh wounded trooper. His backpack is off before he hits the ground, he pulls out a small air hypo and slip it under the cowl of the troopers helmet, injecting him with a dose of painkiller. His attention turns down range once more as he gives orders to his squad, Keep it up, don't let them get away. The troopers continue to fire, bursts turning to volleys of fully automatic fire.

The explosion and the flash bang are enough to knock Vengan flat on his ass, eyes wide and rolling in several directions. The Marine has been around enough flash bangs to know their effects when he is hit by them and, despite their effects, manages to get his reflexes moving in more or less the right direction. <Guh!> he gets out, incoherently. The Marine Captain sprays automatic fire indiscriminately down the hallway, kicking and struggling backwards as he scrabbles for purchase. Still dazed, he has the presence of mind to follow the volley of fire up with a hastily rolled fragmentation grenade, skipping and clattering down the hallway. <Go! Go!> he shouts, his respirator crackling with a sense of dire urgency. <Stail! Get out of here, we're pinned down! We'll find our own evac!> Still dazed and just shy of incoherent, Vengan continues to fire indiscriminately as he tries to push Galatea back down the hallway.

Outside, Hadon and Stail start pushing towards Shael's position, firing a tremendous amount of blaster fire at the stormtroopers with their advance. "Go! Go!" Stail shouts at Shael. "Bandit will catch up!" The two operators push towards Shael and the escape crew as fast as they can, trying to evade the blaster fire as one of the other Rebel members goes down with a strangled cry.

Galatea's heart beat steadily rises refusing to be shown up by the heaving of her chest as her body struggles to provide her muscles with enough oxygen to maintain its output. Pivoting to gauge Vengan's progress, she grabs the proffered firearm and plants her back on the opposing wall to give herself the opportunity to catch her breath. Besides, Vengan was far better armored making him suited for taking point. Unable to hear the impending blast, Galatea's informed of the implosion by the soft reverberation through her bones and the peppering of her face by bits of mortar and plasteel small enough to be propelled without obstruction down the hallway. She twists her head, towards the settling debris, her eyes widening slightly in shock. "Bith spit," she whispers under her breath, taking Vengan's cue to heart. Her feet pound against the plasteel floor, propelling her as fast as she possibly can.

At Shael's urging, the three rebels prepare to board the freighter. One pulls out his own flash bang grenade and they take cover behind the lowering ramp with Shael, while he tosses it into the ship. After it has gone off, the two remaining rebels hop up onto the ramp, boarding the ship but afraid to open fire in the hold indiscriminately, for fear of striking any of the crates. Luckily, one of the remaining men was one of those who'd been helping to load the crates, and knew where to find cover inside the hold. Ducking behind one of the crates, the scan the inside of the hold for the sign of any Imperials. Shael, meanwhile, fires a few random shots in the direction of the stormtroopers that had succeeded in shooting her, as she struggles to catch her breath. Somehow she suspects damage was done to her lungs. Frell, this would mean a trip to bacta tank, wouldn't it?

The situation in the security building was one of chaos, the situation now of STs lead by Sig assaulting the building. Vengan and Galatea no longer can exit my the front entrance, and they are left to scurry down the hall that they were just at - the last ISB man getting his wits back and rearming himself, preparing to move out and see if he can't stop those that assaulted him.

The freighter outside was taking fire, but within the corellian pilot who happened to be a rebel pulls out his blaster and shoots the ISB man square in the back, a move he had been calculating for some time and one that was really a treat for him. Though he didn't have much time as the other two would be soon turning their blasters on him so he too takes cover behind a crate.

The trio of Stormtroopers pours in behind the flash bang, their polarized lenses compensating for the stunning blast of light. Slightly hunched to present a smaller target, they advance into the building. When several blaster bolts zing by them, they return fire blindly shooting ahead. Meanwhile, Sig remains next to the doorway he created. He stands upright and casually strolls along the side of the building, scanning his HUD display. <Gamma-3, we need a aerial recce.> <<Grenade!>> comes the warning over com as another explosion rocks the interior of the building. Inside, the frag grenade detonates. The hallway absorbs the stray shrapnel, but sends a column of shrapnel traveling down both lengths of the corridor. Troopers dive to the side as bits of debris fly around and over them. They weren't knocked out of commission, but it gives their prey extra time to formulate an escape.

Another trooper in squad 446 takes a hit, TK-4462, moves over towards him, again the air hypo is used to administer a dose of pain killer, Inquisitor command, TK-4463 requesting a dust off at grid Alpha Zed Zed. It would take the evac shuttle a bit of time to get there but the wounds were not life threatening, at least not yet. He hefts the pack back on his shoulder, grabbing his blaster rifle one more before giving a new set of orders to his squad, TK-4465, Toss a flash bang, Six and Seven set for stun and give me a suppressive burst on those rebels, if we can't blow them out, knock them out.

Being perceptive has never been used as a descriptor of Galatea as an individual whose focus is far too internal to draw in the details around her. The chaos of the situation hardly gives her the opportunity to will herself to relax and systematically work her way along each corridor so all she does is run as hard and as a fast as she can. Her teeth grind as she steels herself against the pain of the acid building in her muscles. Vengan, as far as she was concerned, was on her own. A faint twinge of dread wells up at the bottom of her soul on that declaration, sapping her stamina momentarily as she once again buries the extremities of her emotions within layer upon layer of logic and training. With any luck, the hallway will reach a doorway out or, at the very least, make a turn that will shield her from any stray blaster fire.

Vengan kicks down the hallway as fast as he can, scrambling to his feet finally and struggling towards the doorway at the other end. He turns and scrambles his fingers along the access pad, then slaps his hand on the emergency locking function. Gasping for air, Vengan pulls away and puts his back to the wall alongside the door, ripping his respirator mask from his face. "You hit?" he pants, glancing Galatea over. "We gotta keep moving, or else they're gonna be all over us." Vengan grabs a heavily laden computer trolley and starts dragging it over in front of the door, then gives it a firm push so it leans against the door. He kicks a chair in front of the trolley just for good measure- and a bit of spite- and moves towards Galatea, gesturing at another doorway with his blaster rifle. "Into the rabbit warren," he grimaces, not looking happy about the situation.

Outside, the two operators get into the shuttle, laying down heavy suppressive fire as Shael and the NRI operatives finish clearing the vessel. <Get out of here now!> Stail bellows, hammering at the ramp-retract button. <Or we're banthameat! The Imperials will scramble air support posthaste, and we need to evacuate now!>

Still taking cover behind two of the crates, the remaining rebels peak out and spot the two COMPNOR agents clearly feeling the affects of the flashbang. They open fire on them, yelling out to the pilot they had managed to get onboard the shuttle, "Anyone else onboard we need to worry about?" Only two agents just didn't seem like a lot. Shael, outside, is finding herself going south a lot faster than she had expected. She must have been hurt worse than she expected. Her fire is almost at random, as continues to struggle for breath and feels her vision beginning to swim. As Stail storms past her she barely manages to stop firing long enough to allow him past.

Initially the flashbang that goes off in the hold distracts and damages the ears of the COMPNOR troopers in the hold, though the rebel pilot and the ISB agent are farther forward. The pilot was in good shape, and as he moves out of the way it is just in time to avoid the blasts of the other two rebels taking out the COMPNOR troops in the main cargo hold, now that they were able to accurately spot their targets. The COMPNOR men fall to the ground as a few stray blasts come from their weapons, but soon all is quiet within the hold. The ship is secure, and it was able to fly still - the troopers on the ground lacking any real heavy firepower to down the vessel - until the air support that's being called in arrives.

The unmistakable sound of TIE fighters screaming past can be heard over the chaos, two TIE MkIIs that had been on patrol as the call for air support came in. With Squadron Leader Molokai in the lead, the pair streaks past, preparing for combat with shields on full and weapons at maximum power. "Command, this is Molokai. We've broke atmo and are ready to take on any enemy aircraft. Will notify if we become engaged." They overshoot the area with the purpose of getting the NR ground troops' attention but are soon banking, turning as they ready themselves for another pass.

<<Can I use the thermal now?>> comes the smart ass comment from TK-4472. <<Yah, that's really smart with a building all around us, Two>> replies TK-4478. The troopers pick themselves back up, firing blaster rounds down the corridor for cover. <Remind me to deck the MILINT boy that neglected to send down the plans for this joint> Sig remarks over channel as he continues circling around the building. <TK-4470, you guys make visual contact yet?> he asks before clicking his tongue to activate his enhanced optics. It was gonna be a bit longer before the coded stream updates the troopers HUDs with the new intel. <<Negative. They should just be down the corridor.>>

Galatea's rubber soles squeal in protest as she slides into doorway off of the main hallway, stiff-arming the wall to bring herself to an abrupt halt. Swiftly, she presses her back up against the wall with an audible thud and arms her sidearm with its grip securely held with both hands and pointed towards the floor. After a moment's hesitation, her head peers around the corner to gauge Vengan's progress in barricading the door as she recovers her breath. Galatea is incapable of reading Vengan's lips and his words fail to pierce the constant swan song of her eardrum in its death throes. ~I can't hear you.~ Galatea replies with her dominant hand in their military finger language, her eyes betraying the despair that she is unable to express through her words. At his gesture though, she sets it aside and returns to the task at hand. Nodding in acknowledgement she urges her body into motion again, tromping off into the unknown.

TK-4463, this is Inquisitor command, dust off is inbound and will be feet dry in 5 minutes. The trooper nods to himself as he moves to a crouch, the Chief Petty Officer looking towards his troopers, Stop them from getting on that shuttle. He hefts his rifle, thumb flicking the selector switch to stun round, He pulls the trigger several times sending bolts towards the vessel, intent on trying to stop as many rebels as possible from fleeing the scene.

<Squadron Lead, this is Zulu Four,> the pilot operative announces into the communication net, as calmly as if he were requesting standard takeoff. The picture of Imperial reserve and comportment. The turncoat pilot drops into the seat and straps in, activating the liftoff sequence while the rest of the NRI operatives secure the ship. <Be advised we're anticipating Rebel dustoff imminently approaching from the southeast. Zulu Four is prepping immediate dustoff, we've got rebels all over us down here.> The pilot 'accidentally' squelches the channel with the transmitter and amps up the power gain enough to jam most of the ground-based transmissions coming from the stormtroopers as he waits for the word from Stail or Handon to take off into the atmosphere.

Stail, in point of fact, is trying to hurry things along as best he can. "GET UP HERE!" he bellows at Shael, still taking partial cover in the port side hatch. The Commander is laying down heavy fire, just trying to keep those blasters off of the poor girl. "We need to get out of here yesterday! Get those engines running!" he shouts towards the pilot's hatch. The shuttle hums and whines, angry at the cold-start and takeoff.

Meanwhile, Vengan's fingers waggle at Galatea. ~We need to move. Keep going as fast as you can and cover our rear- I'll take point.~ The Marine locks a fresh charge into his rifle and moves towards the only available exit point, trusting to luck and a bit of inspiration to keep him and the Private alive. ...for now.

Only when Stail repeats his bellowed command does it break through the fuzz engulfing the injured pilot who had continued firing almost blindly towards the stormtroopers. Lowering her blaster and pushing herself to her feet, she climbs up onto the ramp and attempts to scramble up it and into the hold. She only makes it about halfway, however, before she's hit in the side once again, getting knocked clear off the ramp and into a heap just to the side of the freighter. Once down, this time, the young pilot does not get up again.

Stail almost jumps for Shael, but backs away at a crackling blast of fire. "Damn! Take off! Take off!" he shouts, slamming the hatch shut. "She's down! We have to get going!" The shuttle roars to life with sudden urgency and leaps skywards, dust and debris flying everywhere.

As the shuttle was secured and leaps into the air the pilot knows quickly that it would have to muscle its way out of here, or be forced down by the air cover. Either way they were still going to make a run for it, and that was just going to have to be the way this went down. Though on the tarmac Shael was down and four slaves still laid out. Vengan and Galatea had their own troubles, but now the ISB and COMPNOR folks were coming out from their cover to secure the area and those that were left behind.

TK-4463's comm stays jammed just long enough for it to hop spectrums and re-synch with the loitering assault ships. As he sees the rebel go down, the Navy Chief orders his squad to move forward. He moves back into the lead, fingers wrapped around the grips of his weapons, ~Check for survivors. We will need prisoners.~ ~

Above Coronet City Spaceport
With the freighter in the air, Liza finds herself having to multi-task heavily, now. Information's being fed to the troopers - enemy position as well as any possible powering of weapons (if possible) - even as they prepare to attack the enemy's ship while keeping Command in the loop as well as the pilot fo their shuttle which has been airborne since they arrived. "Command, this is Molokai. We're looking at having to enter combat. Are we to disable or destroy?" The shuttle comes in and around from the front while the TIEs sweep in from the aft, trying to force the NR ship into landing for now until they're given a definite answer one way or another.

"Don't think they bought it," the Corellian pilot mutters, eyeing the sensor-readings on the ship that is hassling them. "To the rendezvous point as planned?" he asks Stail, who has rushed up to the cockpit to join him. At the Commander's confirmation, he puts his attention to getting them there alive. "Who wants to man the gun turrents for me?" he calls over his shoulders as he powers up the ship's shields.

As the space battle starts to unfold into a real fight, command comes back with the answer to Molokai's request. "Razor 1 you are cleared to disable. Should that not be possible destruction is authorized. Advise further status." There are more orders that could be given, but for now they have the upper hand and want to get the YT-2400 back. For the crew aboard the YT-2400 they can get a gunner up and running and the fire control up, but it will be one major fight if they were even going to think about getting out of here. And not shaking the fighters would be a very bad thing for them at this point. They may have to make a run for space if they even want to dream of getting away.

"Roger. Will try to disable," the lead answers, the communications between the command and the two fighters done on a frequency that is unencrypted but closed to public 'ears'. "Razor 2, Gamma 3, this is Razor one. Intercept and disable. Target their secondary systems and their engines, if possible." Liza's wingman and the other ship start trying to move in to strafe the freighter from the top while she attempts to move in and shoot from its aft section.

The remaining Corellian rebels take the turrets and are strapping themselves in just as the ship is rocked by the hit to the shields. "We're fine!" Cherlin, the pilot, calls into the ship's internal com. "This thing has pretty good shields. But take those TIEs down!" "Got no shot!" the man in the lower turret calls out, while the one in the upper turret opens fire on the lead TIE. Commander Stail, meanwhile, has himself strapped into the co-pilot's seat and attempts to coax the best they have out of the shields, angling their effectiveness towards the rear, where there attackers remain.

"Gamma 3. Try to hit them with your tractor beam..." The Two TIEs peel off to either side as they try to give the shuttle a clear shot without having additional ships to fire around. The shuttle falls back to where Liza had been mere seconds before and it's pilot takes the shot. Whether the enemy ship is trapped or not depends on the skills of the one piloting, of course. If they're lucky, they'll be able to keep from being caught. And if not....it's anyone's guess as to what will happen to them, then.

The ship rocks once again, though this time it's the effects of the tractor beam trying to lock on. "Tractor beam!" Cherlin calls into the com. "Guys, shoot down that shuttle. I don't think we can shake all three of these guys, I'm gonna burn for hyperspace." Pulling up abruptly on stick, he has them aimed for a burn to escape the atmosphere, and twists them so their side is facing the shuttle, giving both turrets a shot at the shuttle.

The shuttle bounces as its jarred slightly, the shields more than holding as it was designed to take quite a beating. The TIEs keep out of the way but do try to bottleneck the freighter, hopefully slowing it down before it can make it to where it can get to safety while the shuttle tries yet again with the tractor beam.

Cherlin somehow manages to make his way around the TIEs, but they have both greater maneuverability and greater speed than the freighter he's stuck piloting. Their escape was not looking promising, by a long shot. "That shuttle doesn't even look phased by that hit, I'm going back to firing on the TIEs," the gunner calls out over the com before he suits his words to action, choosing one of the two to fire on.

The first attack on the shuttle had Liza wincing for a moment despite the fact that she knew the assault shuttle was made of hardier stock than the TIEs but the wince soon turns into a more wide-eyed expression as she finds herself being shot at. The shots are deftly maneuvered around, the freighter's weapons fire sailing over the fighter's hull. The freighter pilot doesn't allow for himself to be distracted for long and he's quick to fire upon the ship again, this time with all the weapons it can muster at once.

"Shields still holding," Commander Stail reports grimly from the co-pilot's chair. Controlling shields is really not his forte, but he seems to be managing for now. They're currently evened out, since they are virtually surrounded by the three craft harrying them. "Down to 50 capacity now. They won't hold too much longer." Cherlin nods in response as he concentrates on his flying, shooting to get out of the planet's gravity well as quickly as possible, but knowing he can't simply fly in a straight line if he wants to keep them in one piece. Whether he's concerned for his own life, or the lives of those drugged in the hold, he's been doing an admirable job so far. The gunner, meanwhile, opens fire on one of the TIEs once again, hoping desperately to lessen the number of ships against them.

"Come on, Gamma 3.." Liza mutters under her breath as she has to snap her fighter into a roll to miss another onslaught from the freighter, the Sarian starting to sweat as is the other TIE pilot, undoubtedly. "Razor 2, stay with me. Do not break off under any circumstance." She puts her shields on full aft as she's still in front of the other ship and doesn't currently need to have the shields powered up in the front and her wingman does the same, following his commander's example by doing so. In the meantime, the shuttle fires as it did just moments before, four lasers and the tractor beam heading towards the ship's aft end.

"Shields down!" Stail calls out, his fingers flying over the controls as he tries to coax a little more life out of them. "Anyone have the technical skills to throw together a quick fix for us?" Unfortunately, no one did. Those shields were down and, as it looked for the moment they were going to stay down. "We're taking light damage... But it looks like nothing that majorly impacts vital systems right now. How long until lightspeed?" "Less than a minute. We're almost there. Just keep those ships off of us for a little bit!" Cherlin calls desperately. Already they had left the atmosphere of Corellia behind, and the sky had darkened to the blackness of space. But they remained in the planet's gravity well. "Doing what I can, Cherlin!" the gunnery replies, as he opens fire on one of the TIEs once again. Why the TIEs weren't firing on them, he didn't really know, but he didn't want to give them the opportunity to open fire if he could help it.

Another shot, another miss. Still, it is not time to relax and the Sarian knew it as did the other fighter pilot. They keep weaving and bobbing, looking almost like a pair of brawlers, their strange flying patterns meant to make it difficult for the turrets to be locked in on them. With the gunners on the freighter seemingly distracted as per the hopes of the Imperial pilots, that of the shuttle as well as the fighters, the Gamma-class assault craft fires another volley towards the hapless YT-2400, four lasers and the tractor.

"Tractor beam!" Cherlin shouts, a tinge of alarm coloring his voice. That would stop their run for hyperspace right quick if he doesn't do something. The ship starts to decelerate a little as soon as the lock grabs them, but he drops the ship into a quick spin, turning it down and almost directly towards the shuttle briefly, before breaking sharply and managing to cut the hold the tractor beam had had on them. "Back in the clear! You got the jump programmed in?" he asks Stail, as he concentrates on avoiding the weapons fire from the three ships. "I have a microjump programmed," Stail confirms. The gunner, predictably, fires on one of the TIEs one more time, muttering softly to himself, "Com'on, you bastard... Explode!"

"Oh for the love of the Maker..." Molokai exclaims as she looks up in time to watch laser fire shooting over head, her eyes wide under her flight helmet's visor. "Come on.." She doesn't have to say it as the shuttle's already on it, firing upon the target it's held in its sights for the entire time it has been behind it.

The ship rocks one more time under a last impact against the hull just as Cherlin calls out, "Clear of the gravity well!" Stail pushes the lever forward and two TIEs and one shuttle are left with nothing to fire at, as stars morph into starlines when the freighter enters hyperspace. "In hyperspace, people!" Cherlin calls out excitedly, and is answered by whoops of joy from the few others onboard. "Start busting the crates open and check on everyone," he advises. "I'll stay up here to calc our next jump."

Liza can't help but to grunt a bit, disappointed as she was hoping to get a capture on her record. "Let's head back," she says to her wingman and the shuttle, her voice tight out of annoyance. They re alive, which is something to be thankful for, undoubtedly. They get to live to fight another day.