Rebel Dawn [Dorn Force]

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander followed several paces behind, his mind split between two distinct thoughts. One of those thoughts was that Glayde was a lot heavier than he looked. From the feel of him it was mostly muscle; and possibly all that combat gear he was wearing. For a moment, Xander wondered if they should stop and strip him down a bit; or maybe transfer some of his gear and equipment to Xander. After all, they were likely to get shot at, and military gear was generally quite useful when that sort of thing went down.

Mind you; it didn't help him much.

The other thought surfaced whenever he watched his sister, so at home and in her element here. The Charlotte he'd known had left in order to take up this life; he'd always seen the at home side, rebelling against the wishes of their parents, and pining to return to the lifestyle she'd chosen, rather than actually seeing the part of her that relished in her choice. To witness the comfort at which she moved down these halls; the strangely relaxed air that radiated only from those who felt at home and natural in their surroundings; it was a side of Charlotte that Alexander hadn't seen since before he'd become old enough to even take notice of it. There you are, he thought with a smile. There's my Lottie.

Suddenly overcome with the uncontrollable urge to reconnect with something that had been missing from his life for far too many years, he quickened his pace slightly, not quite drawing alongside, but close enough. He shifted awkwardly, partly from the dead weight on his shoulder, and partly from sheer panic at not knowing what to say. He settled for the first - and unfortunately, lamest - thing that popped into his mind.

"You seeing anyone?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

His question had been asked as she had brought them to a halt at a corner. There was a guard that had been patrolling this area on the way in and she was rather determined that, well, since Glayde couldn't tell her no and they were on their way out, to make sure the guard wouldn't be a problem for anyone any longer. ...Or at least for a few hours. Stunning the guy would suffice for now. He was only a civilian.

Charles rolled her eyes. Was he kidding? She had half a mind to tell him that Oh yes, didn't you know? The last name's Glayde now. You're carrying my husband. But the thought was... not pleasant. And caused enough of an uncomfortable cringe up her spine it never got much past the initial idea.

"No. Been a bit busy with the whole, oh, I don't know... killing Imperials thing."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander nodded sagely, as if her answer had been of some deep philosophical elloquence. He'd hoped for something a little more substantial; maybe a reciprocation - Not anymore; my fiancée left me for another guy, so I figured I'd go for another guy too; and another; and, well, ad infinitum - but no such thing was forthcoming. The options of hanging a decent conversation starter on her response were slim as well; it had been somewhat dismissive.

Instead, he settled back into the reflex reaction to pretty much anything that Charlotte had ever said when they were children: blessed, wonderous sarcasm.

"Figures," he said calmly, continuing his sanguine nodding. "Guessed you hadn't got any in a while, what with you being so uptight and tense and all."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

The fact he was her brother meant far less than the fact that he was the reason they were there. He was the reason her CO was currently injured and getting him to saftey was their damn mission objective. Otherwise, Charles would have probably given right in to the desire to turn the blaster on the man that she'd once considered her closest confidante. Should have stunned him too and had Glayde carry him out. Of course that would have put her in a bit of a jam right now.

Though there was the voice of reason that tended to speak up during assignments. And right now it was telling her that her brother had no way of knowing why his comment would go above and beyond the normal sibling rivalry prodding they caused each other to endure.

She half thought to threaten him with a simple You know they didn't say I had to bring you back in once piece...just alive. But Xander was quicker with mind like she was quicker with fist and already she knew he would just counter with some stupid comment about if he was disabled who the hell would carry the Major.

"Yeah, well, shit happens, war is hell, and all those other clichés."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Black bones, Lottie; lighten up, will you? It's not like we're - The thought hesitated in its tracks. - walking through a high-security military facility. Okay, yeah. May not have been the best question to go with.

He followed in silence for a few paces, but the presentation of bitter metaphors that Charlotte had presented offered too much of a temptation to ignore. "Life is what you make of it," he offered back, struggling a little under the weight of the Major, who seemed to be growing heavier with every step. "Good things come to those who wait. Never judge a book by its cover." A hesitation came before the next. "Never swim after a meal?"

He fell back into silence again, leaving Captain Optimism, or Lieutenant Optimism, Major Optimism - what the hell was Charlotte's rank, anyway? Major sounded the most amusing, so he decided to go with that for now - to trudge along ahead. Despite his efforts however, he couldn't keep his mouth closed for long. "Got your eye on anyone?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

With every word that left Xander's mouth, Charles was forcing herself more and more to exercise the small amount of control she had and not break his jaw. Though with the way he was, she wondered if he'd still manage to squeak out his annoying little tidbits between whatever bellyaching he'd do over the pain.

The next question came horribly close to setting her off, but thankfully before she could actually start planning on doing something she might actually regret later the guard came into view, she moved back behind the corner and her hand raised in a signal she hoped her brother would understand as Shut. The. Frink. Up.

Her breathing became the only thing aside from the approaching guard's footsteps, thankfully. The blaster was shifted in her hands... and it was probably the fact only a few seconds had passed from her brother's question before the guard came close enough...

The blaster rifle was slung over her shoulder once more and the blade she'd used on the Storm Trooper came into her hand all too quickly. Can't take your frustration out on your brother, well...

She moved at the exact precise moment, left hand clamping over the guard's mouth as the right drew the blade across his throat. So much for just stunning the guy. Sadly the satisfaction that came with it wasn't nearly on the level that the Storm Trooper had been and she was sure that was because, while the man had been an Imperial employee...technically... he wasn't military. Just another casualty.

As she tucked the blade away and let the guard's body fall heavily to the floor, Charles glanced over at her brother. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't. Let's get moving."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander remained, frozen in place and stunned to silence as crimson began to seep from the guard's sundered throat and across the polished durasteel floor. It wasn't his first dead body by any stretch; but it was the first time he'd witnessed a corpse that was still warm enough for you to not have noticed. Well, aside from the whole gaping hole in the throat thing.

Grim fascination gripped him, wondering if it would be too much to ask to remain for rigamortis to ensue, so that he could witness that first-hand as well. Probably was too much to ask. Probably was damn creepy, too. He decided it best to push such questions and urges far into the back of his mind, and never, ever allow himself to remember he'd even thought them.

Switching his mind to an alternative thought, he glanced briefly towards the body draped over his shoulder. "Yeah," he muttered, stepping over the pool of blood to follow in Charlotte's wake. "My sister is frinking awesome."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

If she hadn't felt cold and determined to get this all over as soon as possible, his absolutely brainless nitwit comment might have actually made her smile. Though some part of her couldn't shake the feeling he meant it in condescending manner.

The rest of the way passed in silence, and without incident. Her handiwork with the blast doors earlier still seemed to be holding out. Too easy... too easy... Her unease only became greater as the last door, the way out was spotted and the door opened...

And suddenly the eyes of far too many troopers and guards were on them. "Nine hells..."

Xander was shoved faster than her mind could process, pushing him (and subsequently Glayde) behind a large set up of shipping containers. A volley of fire followed from the rifle, managing to drop two of the guards before she ducked down next to her brother. "Well this whole thing just got a whole drukload more complicated."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Nine hells? There were nine of them?

Xander cringed, struggling and failing to keep Glayde aloft in the face of Charlotte's shove. He staggered, somehow managing to position himself between the Major and the ground as they stumbled towards it. With a heave he extracted himself from beneath Glayde, propping him up against a convenient crate. A groan issued from him; Xander offered him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Yeah," he muttered. "You and me both, buddy."

Xander felt the blaster from earlier shoved back into his hands, retrieved from Charlotte's shoulder. He nodded grimly, not protesting this time. He probably couldn't hit the broad side of a Battlecruiser with it, but he'd pot-shot at the guys shooting at them none the less. If he missed enough, surely that'd soak up the statistics and improve the odds of Lottie landing a shot, right?

You're a Corellian, his mind protested. You don't care about odds.

I'm a scientist, he countered. Go to hell.

Peering cautiously, his eyes picked out the ice-white figures in the distance. By his guess, the compound had broken out the rest of it's white-clad Stormtroopers, on loan from the Empire to protect their interests here at Frohad. That was potentially an advantage - unlike the regular Security Troops, the Stormtroopers lacked the grey jumpsuits that would blend themselves into the background, and were instead brightly coloured and easy to spot. Plus, given the utter redundancy of this assignment, the odds of the Imperials sending their best was pretty much zero. Two Tur'enne's against two Platoons of Stormtroopers? he thought to himself, popping up from cover to snap off a few shots towards the nearest flash of white, feeling distinctly awesome for doing so. Piece of Ryshcate.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

He wasn't the best shot, but Xander never had been. That had always been her thing, ever since the one time their uncle had taken them hunting when they were kids. Xander had gone along but been rubbish at it, but the feel of the sporting blaster in her hands had just been natural to Charles and after the trip their uncle had simply given it to her. Best kriffing gift ever.

While accuracy was definetly out the window, at least her brother wasn't afraid to shoot the silly thing. And he provided, maybe unknowingly, a decent amount of cover fire so she could get a full count on just how many of the damn plastic men there were. Well... at least the ones still standing. And that magic number was... 30. No, wait, 29. "Lucky shot. You might actually be better than they are."

Regardless of the fact the boys in white couldn't seem to hit the chunky side of a Hutt, it still remained they were horribly outnumbered. Not that Charles didn't like those odds, but it did make getting out from behind the metal crates rather difficult.

She waited until Xander let off another few rounds before she looked at him gravely, her hands moving a dial on the blaster carbine, taking it from a multiple shot to single. "We'll need to thin their numbers out some. Don't keep popping up like that though, they'll figure that out real quick and just wait for you. The cover is big enough, move around, use the sides as well, make the movements random. Don't give them any sort of pattern to try and interpret. You're doing good, may not hit anything but you're keeping the ones you're firing at from being able to get a clear shot every time you do that. Try and spread your shots out more, though, don't focus so much on just one of them... I'll handle that."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander couldn't fight the subconscious urge to flinch as yet another blaster bolt collided with the crate he was using for cover, sending up another brief plume of melted duraplast to add to the fumes circling about his head. He hated himself for the involuntary display of how inept he was, particularly in front of his little sister - who by rights he should be protecting, not the other way around. Damn it, Xander, he cursed at himself. Why couldn't you be the cool older brother for once?

He drank in the instructions she suggested, and though he appreciated the token compliment she threw in, he focused most on the negatives; the obvious advice that she was giving which he should have been able to work out himself. He was supposed to be smart: of course he knew not to be so predictable; he knew to take shots of opportunity, rather than trying to concentrate and focus. Hell, that was the only small cluster of pride he'd been able to cling onto in his youth: his understanding of the mechanics of things was how he'd beaten Lottie time and time again in hologames, only to go outside and have her beat him at the real thing in pretty much every instance. Doing things live was different somehow: and that difference was apparently something he wasn't coping with particularly well.

"Okay." He blew out a breath to calm himself. "Be unpredictable. Keep it varied. Be random. Be random. Be -" He bit his jaw hard closed, fighting back the urge to wince. Random? Seriously? No neat little patterns, handy little sequences? Total chaos? His mind protested furiously, threatening to mutiny and drag him into subconscious repetition whether he liked it or not. There was no way he could ever get away with something truely ra-

Doesn't have to be random. Just unpredictable. Those Stormtroopers don't look too smart...

With a wordless nod to himself, he readied his blaster, ducked behind cover. "One!" he muttered, before rising to his knee and sending a spray of bolts towards the first cluster of white he spotted. He dropped back down, safe behind cover, all those years of converting everything into numerical code: A was One; L was -

"Twelve!" he hissed under his breath, the mental clock reaching it's next target, again rising, firing at the first group that his eyes - intentionally aimed somewhere new - spotted. He shuffled a first prime number of paces to the left, moving to his next point of cover as he zeroed the count. A deep breath drew in, and blew out at the same speed, words managing to sneak out along with it.

"Three, Four, Five!"

Rise again. More random shots. No hits; doesn't matter. A blast from Lottie, too; one guy goes down. He wasn't sure how many are left, and didn't bother to count; one less than a lot was still a lot, after all. Back down behind cover; back to zero again, longer to wait this time. Another prime number shuffle, left again; he'd change direction once he hit a square number.

He risked a glance across at Charlotte, but she was too busy to look back. He considered her for a moment, back in her element again as she expertly picked off the Stormtroopers as casually as if they were that fully complete and priceless collection of Republic Rangers action figures that she'd trashed with the sporting blaster their uncle had given her back home. Even so; no matter how good she was, and how passable he was, -

We're going to die here. His stomach crunched, a wave of regret slamming into him for all the things he wished he'd changed; wished he'd remedied. He thought of his - their - parents. He thought of his work: the dead-end job that had become his life; he'd always hoped he'd be able to squeeze something noteworthy somehow, so that his name would be remembered for something. He thought of her; he'd always hoped they could patch things up, someday. Thought maybe she'd come to her senses. Not that he hadn't tried everything. Maybe his funeral would be enough to remember; to regret.

Aww, hell, his mind muttered, determination drawn out from his resignation. At least the family is back together. His eyes narrowed for focus, another calming breath to steady his nerves, and his hands. "Twenty-four," he said aloud, not much of a whisper that time; with an added growl for effect, he shifted his poise, levelled the blaster, and sprayed the Stormies with red.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

As Xander had managed to completely nail one of the troopers and apparently incapacitate two others with his last spray of fire, Charles had looked over to him, expecting to see a difference in his stance, the way he was holding the blaster, the way he was looking down the sights, something! But all she saw was a look she hadn't seen since their argument when they are parted ways. Note to self... Xan is far more affective when angry.

With their numbers thinned out a bit, Charles' attention was quickly returning to getting the kriff out of there. A speeder was spotted, almost too conveniently, a few yards off. It probably belonged to someone who worked at the facility...

"Alex." She gently shoved an elbow into his ribs to catch his attention. What the frak was up with the speaking of numbers... "Speeder." It was motioned to with the blaster in her hands. "We're making a run for it. You get the Major, I'll lay down suppressing fire until we get to it. Dump Glayde into the back seat. At that point we'll swap, you fire, I'll get the damn thing up and running... unless you can hot wire it?"

Overall a risky plan, very risky. Some part of her mind reminded her that she loved that.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Sure, sure. I'll just pick up the damn heavy Major, run through the kill zone of those Stormtroopers with him slung over my shoulder - making us both a damn big and easy target to hit - shall I?

He let out a growl, eyeing the speeder she indicated - "Five!" he muttered, popping back up and spraying fire at the Stormtroopers before ducking down and shuffling back to where the Major was lying - and wondering just how likely it was they'd actually get out of here in one piece. Any plan seemed like a pipe dream at this point, and the odds were stacked against them. Lottie would hate that: she was a proper Corellian, who didn't care for odds, or statistics, or... you know. Logic. Common sense. That sort of thing.

He glanced at the Major, contemplating her plan; imagining himself going through the motions in his head. Pick. Carry. Run like hell. Drop. Don't die. Simple plan. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to die anyway; getting gunned down by Stormtroopers was infinately preferable to the torture followed by execution option. "Fine," he muttered, glancing back towards Charlotte; though in defiance he popped back up with a grunt of "Eighteen," to spray the Stormtroopers one last time and at least finish the damn number sequence.

Dropping down for the last time, he swung the blaster carbine over his shoulder, and knelt beside the Major, carefully inspecting his dressings. He groaned in protest, half-conscious again; pressing down firmly on him to stop him from moving, Xander insisted softly: "Don't move. It's okay, we have everything under control."

Glayde muttered something, but Xander wasn't paying attention to that. His eyes were settled instead on the crate that Glayde leaned against, eyes skimming across the reference number stensiled on a corner. It was sideways - the meatheads that Frohad employed in their shipping department clearly incapable of interpreting the "This Way Up" arrow emblazoned on the side - but with a slightly cocked head his mind was able to identify the contents. Were he not ellated at the discovery, he'd probably have been busy berrating himself internally for not thinking: We're at a weapons factory. I wonder what's in these boxes.

Instead, he merely turned back to face Charlotte. "Hey, sis: you got anything I can use to pry one of these crates open? I think Life Day just came early."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Now is NOT the time to try and take some of the goods from you- ...wait... Kriffing... Yes! The combat knife was quickly plucked from where it was strapped to her leg and held out. "Better be worth the time, Xander. We're running short on it as is."

A few more of the Stormtroopers had the unlucky pleasure of being at the end of her sights while Alexander pried open the crate. Three more down and she ducked back behind the crates again, hoping that she would see her brother with something more handy than some fancy ceremonial pistols. What she saw... well at first she wasn't sure what the hell it was. Bits and pieces were being pulled out and being assembled by Alexander. Right... weapons designer... obviously he knows what the hell it is...

"That thing better be capable of pulling some right fine miracles out of its mechanical ass. We're sitting ducks here while you put that thing together." The frustration in her voice was present, but being held in check. As much as she wanted to get out as quickly as possible, having the option of getting them all back to base was a better idea. Though part of her wasn't exactly happy with her brother completely reworking her plan. Frinking civilians...

As Alexander set about piecing the weapon together, Charles took the time to thin the crowd a bit more as they steadily were advancing. "Kriff... think they've finally figured out that there's only two of us over here."

Charles turned to Alexander again and couldn't help but actually smile at what he has assembled. She was no heavy weapons expert, but it certainly looked like Xander had himself a heavy rotary blaster cannon. "Ha... that thing better have a tripod, or you better have some serious skills I don't know about."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"Tripod?" Xander blasted out a snort between his lips, shaking his head at his sister's complete lack of faith. Attatching the last component - a fibreweave strap - an hooking it over his shoulders, he rose from his knees and began to stand. "I don't need -"

As soon as the weight of the repeater bit on the strap, Xander ground to a halt; it took all the effort he could muster to avoid tumbling backwards and falling on his ass. Slipping the strap off his shoulder, he shot a scowl at the weapon, and another towards his sister to forestall any sarcasm she might be preparing to unleash.

Returning to the crate, he extracted the last few components, assembling the rudimentary weapons stand and attatching it to the base of the repeater. It was difficult enough to flip the weapon from horizontal to standing, but after a great deal of heaving and leverage, the trio of feet dropped to the duracrete with a thud. Determination resolved on his face as he reached forwards, grabbing the locking mechanism that prevented the rotating barrel from moving and pulling it back with an immensely satisfying clunk.

A few clicks and flips later and the sights were in place, power pack connected, and firing servos primed. "Alrighty then," he muttered, beginning the warm-up process, the barrel spinning into motion with a whirr that slowly built up. He pointed the barrel roughly in the direction of the nearest Stormtrooper and, hands grabbing the twin deadman triggers at the back end of the weapon, unleashed hell.

A rain of crimson spat forth, leaping across the distance between the weapon and its targets in a mere instant or two. Shots flew wide, biting into the ferracrete walls, chewing chunks off everything in its path. Those that landed on target tore into the Stormtroopers, melting their way through their armour as if it was paper. The gun bucked violently as the barrels span, Xander's aim bouncing up and down in an undulating wave more violent than a sea storm on Kamino.

It did the job though: as his fingers released the controls, and the barrels slowly whirred to a standstill, nothing was moving on the far side of the courtyard. Xander slumped back onto his heels, eyes surveying the dozen bodies with their heavily cratered armour. He blinked, numbness creeping into his mind. I just killed twelve people.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Affective. Sloppy... but affective. And it would have to work for the moment. Another glance at Glayde case a sense of urgency upon the entire situation once more. The remaining handful of troopers now seemed to be either looking for a way to get away, or at least dazed in a sense of hesitation. Charles had a very hard time, for a second or two, trying to tell herself to continue with her original plan rather than just wipe the remaining men out. There's more whitehats in the galaxy, Charles... A small nod of her head accompanied her decision.

"That'll do nicely. Now, time to go." A point was given to Glayde and then to the speeder before she placed a hand on Xander's shoulder and gave a small shove for emphasis.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

The contact jerked him reluctantly out of his reverie; with an effort, he mustered a nod. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, peeling his eyes away from the carnage he'd wrought. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the repeater, wondering if they should somehow try to bring it with them; mount it to the back of the speeder they planned to steal, just in case? Xander certainly remembered seeing the necessary parts in the crate for doing that. But then, the weapon weighed more than Glayde did; carrying the Major to the speeder would be tiring enough, without having to dismantle the weapon into carryable chunks and making several trips. With a reluctant sigh, he disconnected the main power cell and, with the combat knife that Charlotte had given him earlier, sliced off the main connector. At least no one would be able to do to them what he'd done to the Stormtroopers; not with this particular unit, anyhow.

Ducking down next to Glayde, he rolled him stiffly into position atop his shoulder and, keeping as low as he could without compromising his balance, jogged in pursuit of his sister, heading towards the speeder.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Charles had to avoid the silly urge to slide across the hood of the speeder to reach the other side of it. While it may have been fun, and probably looked pretty damn badass with a blaster carbine in hand, it did tend to put you in a rather unguarded position when there still were some of the Stormtroopers left. But the thought was enough to draw out a small smirk from her as she wondered just how many others in SpecForce would have even thought of that and if it only went to prove just how much she really, honestly, didn't seem to mesh with the majority of the members of Dorn.

She looked up long enough to make sure Xander had made it across the courtyard, her eyes narrowing as one of the troopers seemed to get his nerve back and attempted to pick a bead on him. Nah uh, wagyxhole... if anyone's going to shoot Xan its gonna be me when this is all said and done. The shot was simple and the toy solider crumpled to the ground.

Her eyes remained scanning the remaining troopers, praying those that retreated weren't going to be bringing in backup. As Xander got Glayde into the backseat of the speeder she let a quick glance be cast at him. "You never answered my question, you think you can get this thing running or am I going to have to put some more trust in your random number yelling if they bring in reinforcements?"

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Oh, sure, sis. Let me just get right to splicing my way into the locking mechanism, bypassing the various immobiliser subroutines on both the repulsorlifts and the thrusters; all one handed, because my other one is busy stopping this frelling friend of yours from toppling off my shoulder.

He refrained from voicing that particular string of thoughts aloud as he trudged over, but couldn't help a brief comment under his breath. "You're the one with the juvenile record for joyriding," he muttered with a scowl. "You get the damn thing running."

With a heave, he shifted Glayde on his shoulder again, settling him so that he perched, almost seated, on the speeder's edge; with considerable care that was made more difficult by the Major's completely dead weight, he lowered him down until he lay more or less flat across the rear seats, feet hooked casually over the edge. "That'll do," he decided to himself, sweeping the blaster off his shoulder and bringing it into position, ready to fire.

Eyes narrowing as he surveyed the eerily still and silent courtyard, he wondered just how patiently the Empire would wait for them to make their next play; and how long it would take before the inevitably summoned reinforcements arrived. He guessed, from the somewhat sloppy reaction that he an Lottie had mustered at the last minute, that this overt escape hadn't been part of the original plan. But then, the man with the plan was lying unconscious; that generally hampered even the bet laid plans.

"Sis," he muttered softly, fighting hard to keep any insistance or impatience from his words. "How's it coming?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Almost there..." The hint of annoyance in her voice wasn't even remotely attempted to be kept back.

The first speeder she had 'stolen' for their cause had been a fun sort of thing to acquire, but having to do it a second time in one day made the entire effort lose its charm. Not to mention, it seemed the designers of this particular model had caught on to the faults in the other and had 'improved' its security. All in all, with the addition of a bit of stress knowing an entire extra platoon of Stormtroopers could appear at any moment, it was a right pain in the ass.

A sigh left her as the speeder's engine came to life, feeling as if a weight was taken off of her. The panel she had removed under the passenger side of the dashboard was left undone as she moved into the driver's seat. She hadn't let Glayde drive earlier and like hell she was going to let Xander do it now.

"I'd ask if you're coming or staying, but you don't get a frinking choice. Take a seat and let's get out of here."