Open Terrain

Droids Vs Bugs - War on Geonosis

*A respectable force to crush the bugs was being fashioned, but not quite ready. A few more-*

*Suddenly, a secondary console noisily demanded attention. Jarypt accessed it quickly, tapping into the cameras, and cycled through several to track the guard's movements. Curses. Jarypt thought, as he scanned the soldier's weaponry. Sonic rifles? Jarypt did not know how damaging those would be against droids, but even he balked at odds like these.*

*He pulled up a droid management screen, and swiped his hand across the icons of 275 droids, a mixture of basic, super, and a fair amount of droidekas. He set them to patrol the areas the guards' were searching, and shoot on sight.*

*Then he scanned the cameras of the 50 guards moving through the control rooms. They were getting close, and the droids would take far too long to get here. Jarypt would have to thin them out himself. Very well.*

*Before he left the main control room, he cut the lights in the entire factory. The droids would fare well enough with their sensors. He could always fall back on the force. He exited through the door he had entered into the darkened hallways for a game of cat and mouse. It was times like this that he was glad he had since abandoned his excess billowing cloaks. His lightsaber slid into his hand.*

the GI war SL - A02 - upper floors
*seeing the already dim lights go out, the guards knew that someone was about to happen, if not exactly what. deciding the spilt the search party even farther, the 50 guards broke off into groups of 10, each one to search one of the 5 main control chambers. keeping comlink lines open in case of an ambush, the groups head toward their targets. the guards knew that any living for they would meet would be at a disadvantage against sonic bolts, not even jedi could knock away those types of shots.*

the GI war SL - A02 - factory floor
*seeing the lights go out, the guards paused for a moment. then the first group of guards ran into one of the patrolling droid teams. it was 10 guards against 15 basic droids and a super. quickly overcoming their surprise, the guard launched the first volly, and immediately began to duck into side passage to try and fall back. the guards knew that the sonic bolts would be as effect against the droids as blast bolts, but that was little comfort when they were outnumbered two-to-one.*

*Droid breakdown as follows:
50 Droidekas
80 Supers
145 Basic
275 Total*

*Factory Floor:

The droids took cover under the first Geonosian volley, and returned fire. Super battle droids strode forward with confidence, basics crowded around them as covering fire. The two droidekas of the group accessed blueprints and began on a flanking maneuver, rolling through the corridors.

Two other patrols engaged Geonosian groups of their own, adopting much the same tactics, those that had droidekas anyway.*

*Upper floors.

Jarypt had his Force Sight activated, and was using it to track the patrols of ten moving through the area. He had to ambush them, he didn't have the energy to fry all 50 of them. Jarypt climbed up the wall of the corridor to the ceiling and fitted himself into a crevasse. He called the Force to sweep a light breeze through the area, scramble his scent trail. A patrol would move below him soon, assuming they kept to their path. He had enough energy to sustain his position until then.*

the GI war SL - A02 - upper floors
*one of the groups pauses, the intruder's scent is strong here, but muddled as if the intruder had messed with it, or ran around in in circles or something. readying their weapons, the guards begin to peeking into all the surrounding halls and crawlspaces. five groups of one guard checking, one guard watching the first guard.*

*50 guards active (groups of 10)*

the GI war SL - A02 - factory floor
*the geonosians hear the *thumpthumpthump* of the droidekas coming around. unfortunately, for the droids at least, they were at a massive disadvantage while in the factory. the floors were too rough for then to pick up much speed and they couldn't fire at more than a 45 degree angle, which would quickly doom them in the crawl space riddled factory. the super would be far more of a threat.

hearing the droidekas coming, the guards began to scuttle up into the access paths above the main lines. at best the droidekas would be playing a frustrating game of wack-a-mole. as long as the guards kept out from right above the super or the basics, they should be fine. a quick call warns the other patrols, some of which only get the message a beat too late.*

*420 guards active (groups of 10)
30 guards dead*

*The droidekas indeed proved woefully ineffective, but with Jarypt at the main console, their orders remained unchanged and they threw themselves to suicidal odds time and again. Supers and basics were what this battle would really ride on. Basics were fragile as usual, though, and Supers were hard to miss. The Geonosians were agile opponents, and targeting computers could only barely keep up.

Remaining!
35 Droidekas
75 Supers
120 Basics
230 Total*

Top Floors

*A group of five passed below Jarypt. Clever bugs, splitting their groups like this. Jarypt had little interest in hanging up here any longer, the bugs moved too cautiously, slowly. He couldn't maintain his grip forever. So he let go, and activated his lightsaber on the way down.*

*A Geonosian was skittering under him, so Jarypt landed on it. In the same motion, his right hand threw his saber into a second Geonosian while his left seized the head of a third and snapped its head back abruptly. Two were left, and likely preparing to fire, so Jarypt darted to the left of the corridor and called his lightsaber back to him. He ran toward the wall and kicked off it to quickly change direction and hopefully throw off the Geonosian's aim for a few more precious seconds. He fired a Force Push at one and targeted the second with two quick slices, one to disable its weapon and the other a direct stab to the heart. He made two steps to get around the Geonosian, putting it between himself and the incoming fire.*

the GI war SL - A02 - upper floors
*the guards were suddenly surprised by the figure falling from the ceiling, the first five went down quickly. but appreantly the figure had failed to notice the other five in the group. shocked for a moment at the sudeden death of half of the squad, their return fire is ill aimed and mostly strikes the wall around the figure. however, the other squads hear the fire and begin converging on the halfway.*

*45 guards active (4 groups of 10, 1 group of 5)
5 guards dead*

the GI war SL - A02 - factory floor
*even so, the guards weren't able to take them out without loses. expecially due to the b1s and b2s providing cover fire to the droidekas.*

*348 guards active (mainly groups of 10)
102 guards dead*

(NOT part of the SL)
== MMine MMP ==
*The Miners continue to haul ore from the mine and process it in the MMP, oblivious to raging droid revolt and sandstorms alike. Shuttles periodically haul the processed ingots into orbit for storage in the Mark of Justice. Old shafts are filled, as new tunnels are dug so that every last bit of ore in this vein is mined before the MMP moves on.*

Top floors!

*Jarypt still has the last Geonosian's corpse between himself, and the corpse still had the blast vest on. Jarypt used his right hand to call a sonic rifle from one of the corpses. Crouched on the ground, Jarypt used his left hand to hold the corpse between himself and the incoming fire, and set the acquired rifle on its shoulder to steady it. He fired it with his right hand, his Force Vision picking out the large Geonosian forms. His shots were accurate, but the bugs were agile and more were closing in.

Jarypt dropped the rifle and the corpse and darted for a cramped nook in the side of the hallway, once again sweeping a breeze through the air behind him to scramble the scent.*

Factory floor!
*Droidekas made good bait for the dumb bugs, but the smarter ones knew the Droidekas were just noisy paperweights in this fight and focused their fire on B1's and B2's. Droids continued their routines, cycles, programs, etc. to consistent results.

Unfortunately, none were equipped with a state of the art bug-swatter attachment. Dang.

Remaining:
28 Droidekas
71 Supers
114 Basics
213 Total*

*Malice falls back. Enough was enough.*

:: All units, fall back. We can not take this plant down. We will have to seal the entrance as best we can. Make a coordinated fall back starting in 5 minutes! ::

*With that Malice began firing while moving backwards, covering as many geonosians as he could.*

A soft sigh broke the silence of the quiet morning, the only other sound being that of the engines humming. Artificial lights brightened ever so slightly to reveal the source of the intrusion. Sitting cross-legged upon the floor of her sleeping quarters, a young female of perhaps 19 stared nonsensically with yellow-green oculars at the ceiling above her. A pretty thing, though still dressed for sleep in shorts and a halter top, her light olive-peach complexion was framed with dark, shimmering locks that caused the odd color of her optics to stand out all the more. Slim as well, though with well toned muscles flexing gently beneath the skin of her biceps and calves.

With a resigned groan, Y laid her legs out straight before her and began to stretch in an attempt to work out the kinks her early morning meditation, on the cold, hard floor nonetheless, had left in her muscles. Once limber enough, she lifted herself up and stripped down before stepping into her own refresher unit. Contented, the girl stood beneath the warm flow for only a few minutes before finishing her wash quickly and stepping out. A shiver coursed through her form as she quickly toweled off before dressing.

Clothed once more, she examined herself in the mirror. Her typical attire of course: a black skirt cut to be just above mid-thigh length with matching shorts beneath (so as to avoid unwanted viewers). Her top was a simple band of cloth that covered her well endowed chest, leaving little to the imagination as well as revealing the three tattoos that adorned her body. Y's attire was complimented by mid-shin length leather boots, fit to her feet alone with steel enforcers in the toes and soles. Staring at her reflection a moment longer, Y decided it would be best to avoid the bright colors of her scarf and ribbons, and stick to the dark, sultry look that she had going on for her at the moment.

After a moment longer, she lifted a hand with slender digits to touch a scar that ran from just above her right brow, down, then across the bridge of her nose.

No use in thinking about it now; they're all dead and nothing can change that, she thought with a grimace followed by another sigh. Turning without a second glance, she slid one of her many pistols into its holder at her hip and exited the room.

Meandering (but only slightly) she made her way to the cockpit, running her eyes of the smooth walls and beauty of the Silver Arrow!, never remembering a time when she had been on such a fine creation. Thinking back to the previous owner, she shook her head with only the slightest of smirks. His loss. How someone could be such an idiot as to leave a ship such as this unattended, I will never know.

Without a further thought, she entered the cockpit. "Sim," she stated simply, velvety voice low as she settled herself into the copilots seat. Propping her feet on the edge of the dash before her, she glanced side-long towards the commander, oculars hidden beneath long lashes. Despite her time amongst the stars, she still had yet to understand how someone could live covered in fur.

"What's the plan for today?" She questioned lightly, already knowing the basics behind what was to happen, and turned her eyes to look up at the ceiling, just as she had when she came out of her meditation.

Brow quirked, Y turned her yellow-green eyes towards the Commander. "And how do you think we're going to accomplish such an "easy" task?" She retorted, mocking him slightly as she repeated the word easy. "Easy my choobies, Sim. Word travels fast, even in a galaxy this size. This is no walk in a field of flowers," her eyes hardened slightly. "I am no simple minded fool, as many have believed in the past."

Turning her oculars away and back towards the ceiling, Y lifted a single digit and traced the scar across her nose, a habit of her's when she began to lose herself in thought. Not an easy task indeed.

"I'll be able to scout ahead and get an idea of the security we'll be facing at the entrance," she spoke absentmindedly, as if talking to no one as she mentally ran through the process needed to infiltrate the security. "However, there will be the issue of the guards. The missiles themselves won't really be too much of an issue if there is a shuttle or fighter near that we can load them on until we can land elsewhere and secure them aboard the Arrow."

Running digits through her dark locks, she let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Even though she had meditated upon the situation before them, Y couldn't really decide upon a solution as to how to deal with the guards until she could see for herself how they were positioned.

"Do you have an schematics on Arakyd? Such as how many guards there are, blueprints, ect." She opened her eyes again, voice had gone flat, though she never ceased to stare at that single, somehow interesting spot on the ceiling.

Turning her gaze on Sim, her expression remained rather blank. Around other people, including those who had come to know her (though very few knew her; Sim knowing her better than most had since she left her home world), she showed no emotion. He had silenced her, nothing out of the ordinary since she always seemed to become lost in thought when it came to a heist of some sort.

"Security will be no problem then. If that "friend" owes you a favor, then he or she could try to minimize the security present." Y had simply stated what was on her mind at the moment; it was not an outrageous thought either. She decided it would be better to allow Sim to continue than to begin rambling again.

She began fingering her scar once more, letting her mind wonder from the task at hand back to her previous heists and tasks. Sim would let her know his plan when he was ready, and as always when it came to an event that she was not in command of, she would leave it to the person who was to direct.

Y's gaze flickered towards the feline-like man before she gave a brief nod and stood. Her mind was already deciding what she could take and what she couldn't. Still in thought, she retreated from her room and back to her sleeping quarters. Keying in the unlock for her door, she leaned her forehead against the wall. "I hope he knows what he's doing," she murmured softly to herself. Too many heists went wrong without the proper planning or tools needed. Most required a true inside man (or woman, in her case once or twice), a member of the team that had managed to infiltrate months beforehand. Now? She simply had the word of a man she barely knew and the prospect of an unnamed individual being tasked with their safety to get in.

With a sigh, Y finished keying in the code and entered her room, listening to the whisper of the door as it shut and locked behind her. Oculars traced the array of weapons that lay neatly in their places about her room. Her beloved sniper and assault rifles were the only ones that had stands of their own on the wall. Walking over to them, she wished dearly that she could take one or both with her; she always did feel invincible with them strapped to her back. With a yearning final look towards the two, she turned towards her collection of pistols and revolvers fashioned after the days of old, each made to be undetectable when hidden by certain confines of her on her person. Running deft hands over the weapons, she picked up two, small enough to conceal within the tops of her boots in custom made holders.
An Air Pistol, old fashioned but powerful (though not reliable at times) would be her close- to mid-range fall back weapon. Not one of her personal favorites, but based on the restrictions placed, she couldn't be picky.
The .48 Enforcer was next, a weapon she had helped herself to that had been on the corpse of an unlucky victim of her's. Now this...Unlike the Air Pistol, this beauty was accurate, durable, and powerful. More times than she could care to count, the .48 had saved her skin with its ability to pierce heavy armor with ease, uncommon in Slugthrowers.

Having decided upon her firearms, she moved next to the ammo, she didn't attach her typical leg pouch but instead placed the ammo in her hip pouch, which bore a medical label on it. Within a holder made on the inside of the pouch, she double checked to ensure her saber was tucked in securely. She hated having to hide her Force use, but she had heard, and seen once or twice, what happens to users when it came to Sim.

Without even taking the time to look over her knives, in exception of the edge on the four she did pick, she placed them in their hiding. One hung from a chain around her neck and tucked into her top, appearing to be a token from a lover. Another went into a sheath designed to attach to her breastband right beneath the chained one, tucked within the hollow of her shirt and bosom. A third went into a sheath secured on the inside of her thigh, hidden away by her skirt. The final was tucked into the hollow of lower back, just below the band of her skirt. All were thin and sharp, unable to be seen despite how tight the clothes she wore were.

In final prep, Y tied her hair up with a black band, but left her bangs to hang over the right side of her face. She had learned early that her scar made her all to easy to remember. Deciding to leave her bright colored scarf and ribbons behind, and one last glance at her appearance and to ensure no weapon could be seen, she exited her room and headed back to the cockpit to await Sim and begin the ever so "easy" task ahead.

Y shook her head slightly as she eyed Sim taking his drinks. She wasn't a fan of liquor, only allowing herself a drink every now and then for she disliked how loose it made her tongue and she feared that it would make her slip when it came to topics she dared not speak of. She had her secrets and she thoroughly intended to keep them. For now, however, she kept her comments to herself and followed the man as they headed down to exit the ship.

Feeling the heat from the Geonosis surface, the young female let out a huff and brushed a speck of dust off from her nose, frowning slightly as her scar began to ache. It tended to when it came to extreme heat and cold. She never understood why it did such things, but had accepted it as a part of her.

Before walking down the platform after Sim, she knocked the heels of her boots together, activating the retroactive material that was much the same as what was in Sim's Duster. The activation carried to the rest of her outfit, concealing the rest of her weapons as well. This was something she had spent good money on, not trusting to steal something of such worth.

Y had yet to speak a word to Sim, distrustful and apprehensive of the situation before them. Fixing her bangs so they partially covered her face once more, she followed after the feline-man, thumb of her left hand tucked into the pouch at waist.

And off they went. Sim hadn't landed the stolen Freighter very far from the intended goal, the hive like building that served as Arakyd's headquarters on Geonosis. A short brief walk, roughly twenty minutes total, from start to finish, was all the travel time the pair endured in complete silence. The only noise either one made was from the crunch of rock and earth beneath their feet as the soles of the boots they wore pummeled loose soil into nothingness. The silence of their pilgrimage gave the gray-furred Zygerrian a chance to think. His mind wandered, like always, back to his homeworld and his upbringing. Zygerrians were a feared race, a proud one to boot, but he had been born -- different. There was something about the way his mind had worked that separated him from the rest of his family, his clan, his people in general. Something about the way the Zygerrians trampled on anything not capable of defending themselves sickened him to his core. He hated the ways his culture had formed, and for that very reason he had left. Long before any of his older siblings had flown the coop so to speak, Sim (as he had started calling himself from that point on) had embarked on his own life long journey to the stars. Rejecting the notion of his people he had forged a new name for himself. A new image for his people, or so he had hoped, until he picked up flying. Oh flying, he smiled at the thought. The feline loved to be in the skies. In space. Anywhere not with stable footing. He had some basic instruction from a passing Imperial pilot once upon a time, the know hows and how do's, but most of it had been self taught. Strap yourself in behind the yoke of a Fighter pilot and attack a roving group of transports and anyone can learn a thing or two about flying. He learned cunning, agility, using brains over a number of weapons. Flying had taught him to grow up, how to be a man so to speak. It also taught him the most hateful lesson of life, loneliness. Not many people found the life of a Freighter pilot so enjoyable, even less so when the Captain considered himself a Privateer, lawless, abiding to no one but himself. Sim sought solace in the stars, in the emptiness of Suns and Moons and planets and anything else inbetween. Sim found a place to belong.

Nearing the entrance, which was guarded by a pair of automated turrets siting on tall pillars and a squad of surprisingly human guards, Sim held up for a moment to speak to his comrade. Gesturing towards the obvious defenses, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Act natural, let me do the talking, okay sweetheart?" His tone was serious, which was a rare moment for the Zygerrian who normally drank away his qualms and chose to laugh instead of worry. Moments like this were few and far between, for they boded bad for someone in the picture.

With the two of them on the same page, he continued forward and held his fur lined hand up in peace to the guards who had just spotted them. Sporting basic suits of armor that provided maximum flexibility and minor protection, the guards held their rifles awkwardly, obvious signs of new positions or new soldiers. Green horns literally. A good sign for us, Sim thought, as they screeched for him to halt a mere meter away from the Post and doorway into the Hive.