The Upper City

The grizzled old boar puffed up his chest as he strode across the bar, steaming pouring from his snout, his eyes glazed over black like that of a predator. It was a practiced look he had perfected over the years. In his heart of hearts, Bey wasn't really a mean spirit, frankly he preferred to talk things over than to resort to violence. However, he and George had a really lousy day so far, with at least one of the two losing their livelihood for certain. He was in no mood for a bunch of little drunk furballs interrupting his peace and quiet. Looking near as savage as a rancor, the gamorrean strode up to the booth where the ewoks were seated and slammed his fist down on the table, startling all the little bear people.

Bey: Will you shut up! He squealed, the droid head translated, vocal-output unit booming. I'm having a hell of a bad day and you lot with your hooting and your hollering are making it worse. I didn't survive a horde of rakghoul just to be disturbed by a bunch of fuzzy nerfs like you.

Every head in the cantina turned towards the angry gamorrean and the table full of drunk ewoks. Bey looked back to where George was sitting, witnessing the old human hide his face and shake his head, clearly upset that Bey had drawn attention to himself. Likewise, the leader of the group of Ewoks looked equally concerned. He was a glossy brown furred ewok with a hide hood over his head and a sword belt around his waist from which hung an empty scabbard. The table had gone quiet, but the leader of the group mustered up the courage to reply, waving down the other ewoks at the table as they began to plot a violent retort. None of them needed that kind of attention.

Ewok: "Easy, friend pig. We didn't meant to spoil your peace. We have troubles of our own and simply wish to drown away our sorrows. My name's Chestnut, I'm the leader of this unruly lot. Please, join us, let me buy you a drink as way of apology."

Any residual fury quickly fled the gamorrean's mind, forgotten over the offer of a free drink. He relaxed his body somewhat, shoulders slumping and chest deflating, then took a seat at the table. The surface teetered towards Bey as he rested an arm on the table, causing a pitcher of ale the fur balls had been drinking to slide towards the old boar. He caught it in one hand and brought it to his lips, drinking from it as though it were simply a large glass. When he had drained the contents he upturned the pitcher and slapped it back on the table, letting out a loud belch. He then returned his focus on the ewoks, primarily Chestnut, the one that had addressed him.

Bey: Sigh No harm done, I suppose. Sorry for losing my temper. It had been a rough day to say the least, but my troubles are mostly over. What about yours? What brings you lot to Taris? If you're in the Upper City it can't be all that bad.

Chestnut: "So says you." His galactic basic was surprisingly concise. "We came here after our Captain retired, looking for work to keep our crew fed and our ship fueled. However, Taris isn't exactly the sort of place where non-humans thrive. No one would hire us and before we knew it, the docking fees at the port were more than we could afford to pay. Our ship was impounded and now we can't even leave. So we planned to drink ourselves into destitution and then hopefully die quickly in some gutter. And that's me being optimistic."

With the duo that had escaped the rakghoul infested streets of the Under City now working with the drunken ewoks from the bar, it hadn't taken long to formulate a plan. Chestnut had thought he himself was a cunning one, after spending years in the service of a notorious criminal like the old captain. This Bey, however, was full of surprises. Not only had the gamorrean come up with a plan to get the ship out of the impound lot, he had come up with contingencies and a strategy that seemed sure to work. Mind you, nothing was ever for certain, but now they at least had hope. After coming together the group had left the cantina and met in an apartment complex the ewoks had been "renting", minus the actual paying of rent part.

Bey Kahn stood at one end of a round table, upon which a map of the area had been placed. Standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest was George, the human bartender who had escaped the Under City with him. Across from the two was Chestnut, a wizened old ewok that had introduced himself as Graybeard, and a surprisingly muscular tynnan that said his name was Buzzsaw. An odd collection if ever there was one. In the background there were plenty more ewoks and tynnans where that came from, but none of them were directly involved with the planning. The gamorrean blacksmith leaned over the table, both hands on either side of the diagram laid out before them. He began to address the gathering.

We know there is a gate house at the entrance to the impound lot, with at least three First Order guards stationed in it. From what we could dig up, the lot itself is unoccupied other than during the occasional patrol, which the guards tend to perform routinely on the hour. You see here... He pointed at a data-pad on the table that was streaming video they had recorded earlier. Roughly every sixty minutes two of the guards leave the gate house and patrol the lot. They then return to the gate house approximately fifteen minutes later. The time between their return and their next patrol is our window of opportunity.

There was a lot of "hmm'ing" and "haw'ing" coming from the rest of the beings at the table. Buzzsaw, the tynnan at the meeting, brought a broken chair leg to his bucktoothed mouth. He gnawed on the piece of wood, whittling it down until there was little left save a skinny toothpick, which he then used to pick between his two large front teeth. Chestnut stared from the diagrams to the gamorrean, almost entranced. The glossy furred ewok felt like he was reliving his early days, taking part in one of crazy ol'cap'n Tarfang's schemes. Only this plan was a lot more straight forwards. Bey continued.

We'll gain access to the impound lot through an old set of maintenance ducts that run under the lot. It's doubtful that the First Order knows the ducts are there since they haven't been used in at least two centuries, but we'll have to be careful all the same. We then cut our way in with a plasma torch and take a skeleton crew to the ship. Now comes the tricky part. The gate house has a live feed to several cameras overseeing the lot. Even if they don't see us sneak in, there is no way they'll miss a ship that size taking off. We'll need a distraction at the gate house, something to occupy the guards and take their eyes off the cameras long enough for us to get it airborne. I'm not going to lie, this will probably be the most dangerous job.

"Not a problem." Said Buzzkill, cutting in. "My squad of crack Tynnan commandos can handle that. They don't call us the Angry Beavers for nothing."

Location: Upper City - Back Alleyway

The general routine went as such: a hover-truck or van would depart from an industrial warehouse using a set of rear loading dock doors that led to an alley connected to the main street. The dock doors would open, the hover-truck would pull out, drive down the alley and make a left or right turn onto the more busy laneway. This happened all throughout the day, unbidden to set intervals but running on some form of schedule the Angry Beavers didn't have access to. That was alright. They could wait until the next departure; their real window of opportunity was when one such hover-truck left the warehouse loading docks and before it reached the very public street beyond it. Buzzsaw remembered the old adage that was important in times like these where you only got one shot. Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.

After waiting the better part of an hour, the loading dock doors began to rise. The Angry Beaver team got into position. Jackhammer hid behind a dumpster that shared the alley, closer to the warehouse than to the street. Meanwhile Screwdriver waited inside the dumpster, as Buzzsaw and Pickaxe ascended a fire-escape ladder and flattened themselves against the second story landing. As the hover-truck began to pull out of the warehouse and turn down the alleyway, Buzzsaw gave the 'go' signal to Jackhammer.

!

From behind the dumpster, Jackhammer staggered out, holding an empty bottle he had found in the alley. He stumbled out into view, blocking the path the hover-truck would need to take to access the main road. For his part the tynnan looked drunk, and homeless, muttering under his breath and taking a few swings at someone who clearly wasn't present. The hover-truck slowed to a stop and the driver rolled down his window.

Driver: "Oye, you scruffy looking nerf herder, get out of the way! I got deliveries to make."

Thump! Thump!

There were two audible thumps as Buzzsaw and Pickaxe leapt over the fire escape railing and dropped onto the roof of the hover-truck. The driver looked up in time to see two furry paws grab him by either side of the head and pull him out the cabin window. The dumpster lid flew open and out popped Screwdriver, who slid over the side and dropped to the alley floor.

Pickaxe: "Sorry, old chum. You won't be making any deliveries today."

Buzzsaw: "Enjoy the break." Waving.

And with that the two tynnans tossed the poor driver into the dumpster. Screwdriver dropped the lid, which came down on the driver's head as he tried to stand, knocking him senseless and closing the dumpster. Pickaxe grimaced and looked at Buzzsaw.

Pickaxe: "I hope you didn't meant that literally."

Buzzsaw: "Uh, I'm sure he's fine. Probably. Now let's get going."

The four tynnans clambered aboard the hover-truck, with Jackhammer sliding into the driver's seat. Buzzsaw sat in the passenger seat, while Screwdriver and Pickaxe got into the back. Within a minute the hover-truck pulled out onto the street and blended in with the rest of traffic. From his seat, Buzzsaw reached into his pocket and withdrew a comlink. He sent Bey Kahn and the rest of the party a signal.

Stage one, complete.

The next thing Chestnut knew he was being pushed out of the maintenance duct. Beneath him Bey Kahn ascended the rusty iron rungs, desperate to get out from the enclosed space. His time spent in the sewers of the wasteland fighting rakghoul had left him with a deep dislike for dark tight spaces. He climbed out onto the lot floor and was quickly joined by the rest of the ewoks on the team. The leader of the ewoks looked around the lot until he spotted their prize. Chestnut lifted a furry paw and pointed one stubby digit towards an old Fairwind style vessel, the ship he and the rest of the crew affectionately called the Lack of Faith II.

"There she is. That's our home!" He said excitedly, before running in the direction of the ship.

Bey looked around cautiously as ewoks scrambled past him and raced after Chestnut. The old boar fixed his attention in the direction of the gate house. He couldn't see it from where he stood but he had to hope that Buzzsaw and the rest of the Angry Beavers were doing their job. They were counting on them. The gamorrean blacksmith turned and chased after the ewoks heading to the ship. Chestnut had already sliced his way into the ship and dropped the boarding ramp. They headed inside.

---

At the gatehouse things were a little more dangerous. The three guards, each holding a blaster rifle, circled the hover-truck that had nearly slammed into their station. The senior guard, Jon Oliver, motioned with his blaster to his two companions, removing a hand from the trigger to display a finger gesture that told them to go around the back. They nodded and moved towards the rear of the hover-truck, blasters raised. One guard took aim at the back of the truck while the other stepped forwards and grabbed the latch at the base of the rear cabin. He turned the latch and threw open the door, taking a step back and raising his blaster as well.



From out of the back came a flying thruster assembly for a landspeeder, which slammed into the nearer guard and sent him sprawling onto the ground, throwing his blaster wide. Fortunately for the team of tynnan commandos, the truck they had stole had been full of spare landspeeder parts, leaving them with lots of heavy makeshift ammunition. The second guard fired a blaster bolt into the dark exterior, briefly glimpsing the outline of a sharp fanged monster. He didn't have long to consider that implication, however, as a second thruster assembly was tossed out and took him in the gut. The guard crashed to the floor and let out a gasp, the breath escaping him as the piece of equipment pinned him to the floor. Jon, still near the front cabin, raised his wrist communicator and called for backup.

This is acting Sergeant Oliver, shots fired at the impound lot. Officer down, requesting backup!

He raised his blaster and began to walk towards the rear of the truck. Before he got there, he heard a loud thud from the top of the vehicle. He looked up and saw what he could only describe as a rabid otter. Above him standing on the top of the truck was Jackhammer, a thick armed tynnan with a feral grin.

"I wish you hadn't done that." Chittered Jackhammer.

The tynnan leaped off the truck as the Jon Oliver raised his blaster and fired an energy bolt into the now empty space. Jackhammer spun end over end as he performed a front flip, bringing his heavy tail down on the guard's helmet covered head. Jon clattered to the floor, knocked unconscious by the blow.

It wouldn't be long before backup arrived. Time was almost up.

The sound of blaster fire in the distance served to motivate Bey Kahn to speed up as he continued sheering through the magnetic locks with a plasma torch. He was already on the last lock, sweat beading on his brow from a combination of exertion, stress, and the heat of the torch itself. Finally the last of the metal was burned through and the Lack of Faith II lurched, lifting off the ground another six feet. Bey Kahn was nearly knocked over by one of the landing struts, leaping out of the way to land on the ground with a heavy thud. He rolled over onto his back and pushed himself back to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes. He scowled as he looked at the ship hovering higher than he could reasonably be expected to jump to climb back in.

Oye, lower a kriffing gangplank or something! He shouted to no avail.

Just when he thought he was being betrayed, a thick rope of wookiee hair dropped to the ground beside him. He followed the rope up to the open deck at the top of the ship and saw an ewok leaning over the railing, pointing at the rope with one furry finger. Bey took the hint and grabbed the rope, pulling himself up slowly with one thick muscular arm after the other. It was hard work and the rest of the crew seemed too busy to help pull, but eventually he climbed up over the railing and let his feet touch down on the wooden deck.

Time to go.

---

Elsewhere the Angry Beaver's squad were leading local law enforcement on a chase through the city. Blaster bolts were exchanged between the hover-truck and pursuing landspeeders, while all vehicles involved raced by at breakneck speeds. Jackhammer could be heard laughing maniacally from the driver's seat, sliding the truck left and then right to block any of the pursuit vehicles from getting in front of them. Buzzsaw sighted the nearest cruiser's engine block and trained his blaster on the target, taking aim and pulling the trigger. A single bolt struck the hood of the speeder and burnt through the thin durasteel plating, fusing the metal underneath. A rough expulsion of black smoke erupted from the pursuing vehicle's repulsors and it slowed to a stop. The tynnan commando laughed and shouted.

"I got one!"

Blaster shots continued to be traded between the hover-truck carrying the Angry Beaver squad and the pursuing police landspeeders, disrupting traffic and leaving pot holes in the duracrete surface of the highway. A maniacal laugh could be heard coming from the front cabin of the truck as Jackhammer spun the wheel from left to right, taking up the whole roadway and preventing any of the pursuing crafts from slipping ahead and blocking their path. Smoke wafted from the rear of the truck, the canopy tarp over the rear cabin was on fire in places, choking the two tynnans in the back and obscuring their shots. The positive was that they were obscured as well.

Meanwhile the Lack of Faith II zipped around skyscrapers as it homed in on the Angry Beavers signal. It bullied its way through traffic, causing airspeeders and other low altitude cruising vessels to veer out of the way. There was no fancy flying here, just a bull in a china-shop set to rampage, laser turrets firing warning shots off the nose of anyone stupid enough not to get out of the way.

It was reckless and it would no doubt get them noticed by the authorities, but dammit, they had an obligation to the crew who had helped make retaking the ship a reality. They wouldn't leave the team of tynnan commandos to their fate. Not if Bey had anything to say about it, which he fortunately did.

In fact, the gamorrean had taken over the flight controls after entering the bridge, jerking and janking the vessel every which way as he tried to follow the blip on the radar. He stared between the open view panel and the screen in front of him, relying less on his own eyes and more on the data being presented. He didn't have the best eye sight to begin with. Eventually the Lack of Faith II found a clear patch of highway to fly over, lowering their altitude so that they were sailing a dozen feet over the roadway. They came up behind the police presence pursuing the truck, low enough that some of the riding officers turned around and took a couple shots at the hull. Bey's tusks twisted up into a sneer and he swivelled several of the laser turrets towards the landspeeders.

Wait. Think about this, piggy. You do not want their blood on your hands. They are just doing their job.

The turrets swivelled a few degrees higher, then fired, blowing chunks out of the roadway between the truck and pursuit craft. The highway surface was blasted apart and left a vacant patch of road between the vehicles playing cat and mouse. As the hover-truck continued forwards, the pursuit vehicles dropped down through the hole, their repulsors stopping them from slamming into the road beneath the one they had been on, yet being unable to allow them to follow further. Bey let out a 'whoop' and pushed the accelerator fowards, moving the Lack of Faith II over the truck and out in front of it. The boarding ramp at the rear of the vessel lowered and slammed into the roadway, eliciting sparks where the metal met the duracrete. Jackhammer didn't need to be led by the hand, he was already racing the truck up the ramp and into the ship's belly. Once they were aboard Bey veered the ship off to the side and began to head away from the vicinity, flying haphazardly through the Upper City.

Location: Upper City East Side - Fairwind Style Vessel "Lack of Faith II"

After all the crew had gathered aboard, which now included the bartender George from the Drunken Rancor Cantina, they began to prepare for takeoff. Inside the wooden hull of the ship, ewoks and tynnans could be seen scrambling around as they battened down the hatches and manned their stations. Bey Kahn was seated on the bridge with Chestnut and George, overseeing things from his new chair. Well, maybe new wasn't the right word. They had actually found the cushy seat in an alley next to a dumpster, but once they had sprayed it down for roaches it was pretty much fit for use. As far as the techs that had installed the chair had been concerned, it was for a gamorrean, so cleanliness wasn't a necessity. Frankly Bey hadn't even noticed. He just ran a fat hand behind his rump and scratched, wondering why his butt was so itchy.

It had been a bitter debate between George and Bey prior to the departure. George had wanted off this rock as soon as possible, but Bey had wanted to stay so that they could return to the Under City and get a few things from his shop. The main problem? Rakghoul still infested the Under City. The duo had barely escaped with their hides intact, let alone their lives, and the grouchy old bartender was in no mood to risk it all over again. Eventually Bey relented and agreed to depart without his things, though begrudgingly.

Repulsors raised the ship that shared so much in appearance with an ancient sailing vessel, lifting it out of its current mooring until it hovered in the air, appearing almost weightless. Then the engines kicked in and the ship moved forwards with a slight lurch, then a more gentle glide, sailing towards the atmosphere. The old boar reclined in his command chair, finally at ease after all they had gone through. It seemed like things were looking up for Bey and the crew of the Lack of Faith II.



The ship shook as something struck its port side. Bey almost fell out of his chair while sparks erupted from several of the bridge consoles, causing ewoks to fall away from their stations as they dived for cover. The gamorrean rose out of his seat and looked to Chestnut, who was frantically trying to operate the flight controls.

What the hell was that? Groaned Bey, letting loose a hacking cough as smoke filled the bridge room.

Chesnut looked over his shoulder at Bey, a look of desperate concern on his furry little features. He pointed with one small paw digit towards the sensor station, which displayed a radar screen that was flashing with warning.

"The City's AA guns, Cap'n." Said Chestnut. "They opened fire as soon as we exited the laneway and started heading towards the atmosphere. Technically we still haven't paid our fees. We should have known it wouldn't be that easy."



Another shudder as the ship was struck again, this time to even more detrimental effect. The Lack of Faith II began to descend, rapidly losing altitude as the crew desperately struggled to keep her afloat. Chestnut angled the ship around incoming roadways and skyscrapers, but it wasn't looking good. Everything he dodged was just another reminder of what they were falling towards.

Hang on! Shouted Bey, as the ship plummeted down towards the Under City.

Seven days in bacta, Stars knows how many times sleeping, decent meals, exercises to regain good motion to his wounded arm, and plenty more was what he met at an Imperial hospital on Taris. Doctor found a few factures around his shoulders though that were likely from being tossed about on the bridge from the few days of fighting between Axxila and Mygeeto before it was ended. Imperial forces of the First Order came to his aid and saw these mutineers defeated... but the loss was what really hit him.

Admiral Saren's crew had been with him for many many years now. What remained of the loyalists was a shadow, the mutineers were shipped off to work camps or were dead. Decorated officers, deceased. Good and loyal crewmen, wounded or dead. Skilled starfighters, tough Stormtroopers... missing, dead, or wounded. All under his command. He should have seen it coming! Damn it! The Imperial cursed for his inabilities that led to his own son being wounded by the stab of a mutineer. Maxir and his cadre did a good job of protecting the Andras though, the losses there weren't as heavy as the rest of the fleet. His flag, the Hercules, was no more though. Crashed into one of the Ardent frigates and sent its captain and rebel crew into hell. Saren's fleet was totaled... it would require a lot of work to rebuild now.

For the first time, in days, Vidarr was standing with a bacta cast over his left arm. It was mainly focused in the area between his hand and elbow where one of the two blaster shots had been worse than the one at the shoulder. The Imperial looked out at the cityscape of Taris, one of the mini Coruscants of the galaxy. A beep went off as a nurse came into his room. He had sent her to ask about his son, Gil Berend, and his condition.

Well??

The Admiral asks without waiting as the nurse speaks.

=Nurse=
His condition is stable, Admiral. The wound barely missed his vitals, but he will recover in time. He is sleeping now though. Your son lost a lot of blood from the stab wound of that vibro knife. You can see him in a few days.

Saren exhales a deep sigh of relief. Val Cardas, Arsus Bravanc, and now Gil Berend were all well. He would have felt that he had lost a limb or more if any one of these three were missing or confirmed dead. The Imperial noticed though that the nurse remained. His eyebrow goes up slightly which makes her speak once more.

=Nurse=
You have a visitor though. And it-

Vidarr cuts her off.

If it's Maxir, tell him I am busy.

The Admiral didn't need the Dark Jedi to come and talk to him about the next plan.

=Nurse=
It isn't Maxir, sir. It's a female. She said she was a Grand Inquisitor.

......

Huh?