[Waste Ranger/ MU] Home Within Range

[Chairdor]

Ron Dakka looked out on the landing platform once again, he knew the security crew wasn't due to arrive for a few more hours, but sadly enough for the first time in his life, he was early for something and he all at once learned the bittersweet truth that being early was almost as bad as being late. Forced to sit as his over eager legs began to work he looked upon the caravan as it slowly assembled. Weeks he had planned this venture with his sister and now all he had to do was wait.

It hadn't been long ago that he had received the news, small holonet radio station attached to an aid group talked about how trading companies could no longer afford to move shipments through this section of Mimban. Trade had been bad everywhere in the rim for a long time since the Alliance fell, but where some doors closed a window opened, and Ron saw his window on this world.

Talk was there were villages that needed food, tools, basic necessities to continue their settlement activity and after some lengthy talks he had patched together an economical and safe route, well safe enough route, to hit three villages in a week. For the journey he tallied his goods and workers for the fifth time as once again he had little better to do. Notably there were the Nerfs pulling the repulsorlift wagons. Engines were faster but he was told they attracted the natives.

The natives

As soon as this job was done he didn't want to hear those words together for as long as he lived.

The Coway were the cause of every single trouble he had run into, or at least were a major part of every little thing. Can't blaze a trail that land is sacred to the Coway, can't fly over that mountain, Coway burned down a village last time that happened cause guess what IT'S SACRED TOO. Apparently if it exists and Coway live on it, it's pretty kriffing sacred.

Pressing his robotic hand to his temple the man moved on replacing the hot temper with the warmth of a nice cigar. A smoke trail in his wake he looked down the line noting the stores of rations, water purifiers, and generators he would be selling to the fine people he had negotiated with. Despite the economic shortness of his route, he would certainly be taking a tour of the sights, going over the map again he shook his head,

"Swamp to desert to jungle to beach, damn planet make up your mind," he said as he chewed a bit into the leathery cigar

Patting one of the more nervous nerfs he looked over the personal file,

"Rodirigues, Monta'acal, Ritta, Jarlarii..." Listing off the last names one by one as he looked for the face it belonged to, it was a lengthy process, thirty names in all had signed on to this venture excluding the so far absent security team.

Speaking of them. Ron grabbed a communicator from his pocket,

"ETA till arrival of sec?"

"You just asked me the estimated time of arrival till arrival...also what's a sec?" The communicator responded with a familiar female voice

"Security," he replied ignoring the chide

"For the fifth time Ronnie they're coming, settle down,"

"I never settle, why do you think I became a trader,"

On the other end of the communication was Tia Dakka, standing in a smart coat and shoes as unlike her brother she had no intention of living her life on the road. Organizing from the main base she set up near the landing pad she'd provide intel and avoid any sharp deadly things lurking in the jungle. Something she was supremely glad of.

"Empire sees it, your a traitor and a trader," Tia teased once more, quite aware that the warrant listed her as well.

"More the reason to keep on the move, tell me when they get here, we're ready to move out,"

"Sure thing little brother," she said with a smile, once again looking up into the crisp sky. One thing she didn't plan was the weather, but luck had her back in that department.

As the sun rose over the horizon she noticed the approach of a ship, knowing that if this was the team she called for it would only be half the full force she held back on exciting her eager little brother. She had hired two firms to handle security on the dangerous trek, she had been burned before on payment and she always figured merc companies fought harder if they had a competitor by their side. With a faint grin as the wind shifted causing her coat to billow and her hair to shimmer, she prepared to greet the newcomers, get them up to speed and have them off, she was betting a lot on the success of this trade run and speed was by far the most important part of her job,

"Clear the landing bay," she called out, standing firmly as the ship descended. With a look down at the communicator and a look up at the ship she hoped she did well picking these two, because in the end she could build a new trading company, she couldn't build a new brother. Not again at least.

 

[Livgardist]

Rowe felt the vibrations as the ship landed. He knew little about ships, even the ones Scalia had put together. He was a gunslinger, a peace officer, after all, not a pilot. As the cargo ramp opened, he was the first one to stand up, grab his pack and his Wellington Repeater, to be put through its first trial run on this mission, and moved towards the exit. He stepped down the ramp rifle hanging along his side in his right hand, and the pack slung over his left shoulder. As he stepped down, a breeze stirred up some dust. He lowered the brim of his hat to keep it out of his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his cigarillo as he did.

Walking down the ramp out onto the desert, he looked around as he approached the approximately thirty men and women gathered there by the repulsor lift carts today. They were a ragtag mix of farmers, survivalists, mechanics and simple traders, it seemed. While many of them knew their way around a gun, none of them were professional gunfighters. Rowe and his companions today were. They were the security. They were responsible for keeping these people alive throughout a very dangerous journey. It would not be an easy job, not easy at all, from what he had heard. But that was why they were paid a large chunk of money if they succeeded.

Rowe was a simple man, though. He didn't care about money, never had. He wasn't a true gunslinger, not the mercenary kind that sold itself out to the highest bidder. He was a lawman, and a Waste Ranger now it seemed. He had already made plans for what to do with his share of money. It was simple; Donate it to the Rangers, to keep the organization going. The galaxy needed waste rangers. The galaxy needed men like him to keep peace now that the Alliance had fallen.

He tossed his pack in one of the wagons, a nerf strapped to it to pull it when they moved out. Then he looked around for the leader. He nodded to one of the nerf herders, and asked who was in charge, and the man pointed him at a woman in a coat. Most of the women here seemed to wear coats, come to think of it. It was a durable piece of clothing on Zonju. Kept the dirt away.

He approached her, removing his hat with his left hand.
"Ma'am." He said. "Name's Rowe Scarrett, of the Waste Rangers. This here's Mirdala. She's a Ranger like myself. I can't speak for the mercenaries. Never worked with them, never knew them, don't care to." He gave a wry smile, unusual for the gunslinger. "Where do you want us?"

 

[Grimlock]

They were late and he knew it. Being late was something Dex hated almost as much as Force Users or wasting liquor, causing his mood to sour a bit. Finally the ship touched down on the landing pad with Dex halfway down the ramp before the ship even settled on it's dampeners, dropping the remaining few feet onto the duracrete surface with a heavy thud accompanying his landing thanks to his full beskar'gam. Staring across the pad from behind the faceless visor of his buy'ce before his gaze narrowed on a woman who looked to prim and proper to be undertaking the trek with them all. Not bothering to wait for Cain to exit the ship before closing the distance between them, catching the tail end of the greeting that was being exchanged by a duo identifying themselves as Waste Rangers.

"Su'cuy, Ma'am. I'm Dex with the Mercenaries United. Cain should be joining us shortly." greeted the man while he motioned behind him at the ship.

 

[Tank]

Cain was right on time, which in his line of work meant they were about an hour late. Mercs needed time to get acquainted with the group, the plan, the path, everything regarding the mission. Getting to the landing site just before everyone else wasn’t enough time to get adequately prepared. Cain had been attempting to purchase three tanks for an upcoming mission and the negotiations had gone on far longer than expected. Ultimately Cain had to back out of the deal so he could come to Mimban and run this mission. Needless to say he was already irritated and being late to the party only exacerbated that frustration.

As Cain maneuvered The War Chaser onto the landing pad he had Dex Skirata go ahead and make contact with Ron and Tia Dakka while he powered down the vessel and finished getting his equipment together for the mission. He’d repainted his Aliit’gam armor in a variation of green and tan jungle pattern. Hopefully it would help him blend in slightly with various landscapes they would be traveling through.

He removed his helmet and clipped it to his belt. Cain went to the cargo bay of the ship and activated the repulsor sled that contained all of Cain and Dex’s equipment. It was loaded down with weapons, explosives, deployable barriers, and various other items that would come in hand during their week long mission. He pushed the sled down the boarding ramp and was greeted with an impressive view of the convoy and its constituents.

Dex was already speaking with a woman whom Cain assumed was Tia so Cain approached the two and introduced himself.

“I’m Freylyon Cain, but you may call me whatever you like, you are paying me after all.” Cain said with a chuckle. He might be irritated but it was bad for business if he seemed unapproachable by his employers. Cain would put on a brave face and do his best to represent the MU in a light that would hopefully get the rehired one day.

“So only two security personel for all this? The Conway must not be that much of a threat if you only need two guys to do your security for you.” Unbeknownst to Cain there was another security team; and when he found out he wouldn't be able to keep his happy face on much longer.

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Mirdala was in a rare position.

By chance, she was a member of both hired security teams. When she'd accepted the contract--and later heard about it through her mercenaries' contacts later from another source--she briefly toyed with the idea of being paid twice for the same job, but perished the thought. Best to keep the associations to myself, she thought as she walked beside Rowe. She would be paid either way and that was enough for her. That the mission was to provide much needed essentials to those in need would be a bonus; there was honor in the slaying of those who would assail the convoy.

And slay she would. Her armor, freshly cared for, was repainted in greens and blacks, considering how badly the arctic white it normally was would stand out like a Wampa on Tattooine. She did keep the sigil of the wolf upon her left shoulder, however, its blood-red a striking contrast to the coloration of the rest of her gear. Two blaster pistols upon either thigh, a pair of stun grenades upon her belt, her concealed blade, a mid-range blaster rifle cradled loosely but at the ready in her gloved hands and a trio of spare clips--one each for the pistol and one for the blaster rifle--completed her arsenal for this job. She turned her helmeted gaze left and right, drinking in detail as she let Rowe do the talking.

She allowed herself a small smirk when Rowe mentioned the mercenaries.

"I'd like to be near the rear, if that's possible," she said, interrupting her partner. "I expect to see an attempt to pick off stragglers or even an attempted boxing." She peered at the Nerfs then turned that opaque visor onto the woman Rowe spoke with. "Strike the rear, strike the front and kill all that lies between in the chaos," she offered the explanation. A slight nod at Rowe and she continued. "We hit the attackers hard and fast and let the mercs handle the forward defense." She cocked her head to include her fellow Ranger in the helmet's visage. "Unless, of course, you already have plans for deployment."

Either way, she fully expected to be assaulted. What intel there was to be had for the job left no confusion or doubt as to the tenacious nature of their enemy, the Coway. Might be their land, might not, she reasoned, but if they're standing between supplies and those that desperately need them...her hands tightened around the stock and barrel of her rifle. What's a few more corpses in the name of those in need? She glanced up at a corner of her helmet where an indicator was blipping to her eyes only; new comm frequencies detected by her QC backpack. Another ship...Ah, she allowed herself a small little smirk, the rest of the party is here.

She resumed her pack's scan of frequencies on all bands and waited for orders.

 

[Chairdor]

Tia felt the intense winds of the powerful craft settle down upon the landing pad. It seemed to be a hodge podge of a ship with multiple patchings and quite a bit of maintenance work before it would be combat ready, silently the Caravan organizer hoped that the one on board did not share the same characteristics. As the ship opened she saw a scruffy sort of man with a wide brimmed hat smoking an almost hand spun looking cigarette of some nature. Covering her mouth lest the smoke waft towards her she watched as he casually walked off to set his belongings with the caravan with a well armored woman in tow,

Odd pair she thought as she turned to spy a more professional looking ship begin to land, undoubtedly this would be the pair she had gotten from the accredited company Mercenaries United. She had heard about their work over the years, intel gathering, tracking down debtors, defense, they seemed to have a penchant for discretion something the woman had calculated would most likely cross over to how and when they used their guns. As the MU ship landed, the odd pair from before returned and Tia looked upon them, sizing them up in an instant. Both seemed to have seen fire fights in their time so she was certainly getting her credits worth, though they weren't yet. Don't pay them till the job is done, that's what her mother taught her when she was in the caravan business.

Tia nodded at the mentioning of the Waste Rangers, she had heard of their little group on a somewhat off chance, their intelligence division, which consisted on one somewhat drunken man had met her in a bar in Cloud City, she can't remember much of that night, something to do with dancing and quite a few blue drinks, but apparently she had signed half the security deal away too. While she had been afraid she might have been swindled of the contract or worse these Rangers didn't exist at all, she was pleasantly surprised to see them here now.

The man was as gruff as he looked, but had a pleasant side behind the edge and the woman seemed quite professional with a plan in mind. Nodding to them both she addressed them as a pair,

"Thank you both for your timely arrival, I'm Serena Myra and I'll be coordinating the scouting efforts feeding you intel on route changes. the Coway are nomadic thus we have to insure we don't happen upon one of their hunting parties or end up in front of one of their camps, those encounters seldom end well. We shall be heading out very soon so I'll have to give you the short version of what intel we've gathered so far when the rest of the security team arrives, for now you should head down and meet my associate Telkar Detan,"

So used to these false identities, Tia didn't even so much as facially twitch for a moment on using them. There were warrants out for their arrest and these were mercenaries, mercenaries always seemed to put money first so their explanation for why the Empire wanted them in a cell so badly would probably do little to persuade them otherwise if push came to shove and they desired the bounty on both their heads. The security team were no different from the rest, none of the crew knew their true identities. It was fairly easy to gather people together who failed to have a sense of curiosity about their employers so long as the promised money was a high enough number.

Turning lightly she noted an approaching Mandolorian in extremely fine armor. She liked Mandos, always ready for a fight and that honor meant they fought well, she had had too many mercenaries run off in a crucial fire fight, but this group so far looked like they would be capable. Nodding at his remark she awaited this Cain while adjusting her communications devices, giving them another light stress test to ensure they would continue to work as the caravan moved further away from the main base. Satisfied she turned to note the older man with a smile at his light joke. Gesturing to the other pair near her as he questioned the use of only two security personnel she began her small intel report,

"Actually there will be four of you in all, two in the front, two in the back,"

Producing a small hollow she displayed a map of the surrounding country side, a geographical survey from a month ago when they began to plan the route, using her finger as a cursor she slowly drew the route in a lingering red in the projection as she began to explain,

"We are transporting vital foodstuffs and supplies to cut off settlements along this route, the Red Trail, it's called that due to the amount of blood shed there and the people that do the shedding, the coway,"

Slidng her hand over the projection the map moved to the side as a large muscular red Coway appeared bedecked in war paint looking fierce,

"Despite the menacing look, Coway don't seem to actively attack people outside of 'their' lands and engage in trade and diplomacy at times themselves, therefore it is imperative that you only fire upon them as a last resort, by last resort I mean any options beyond giving them any food or credits, we aren't a charity, we are a business. If it does come down to brass tacks, Coway main have stone and iron weapons, though a few have taken blaster rifles scavenged from the brush, though they are god awful shots,"

Sliding the Coway away causing it to instantly fade, she pulled the map back and circled out three distinct circles,

"Three tribes control this area, here in the jungle, here in the desert, and here in the swamp," she said pointing to each area respectively, "We know little of their customs and frankly I don't care, ensure they don't mess with the job,"

Pressing on the maps three locations she explained,

"Were delivering weapons food and generators to the Hocaw Outpost here, a small fort, then further on we are delivering food and fresh water to Tikal a small desert town, finally we will be delivering water purification equipment and food to Oktal the swamp town, the business has been arranged, the prices are final. No negotiation."

Allowing the map to fade she looked at the group and said,

"Any questions?"

Down by the caravan Ron was growing more impatient, as the ships landed he noted that at last it was time,

"Let's moooooove out!" he cried giving a sharp whistle to get the nerfs in motion

As the caravan began to make its progress towards the jungle Tia noted the whistle and sighed,

"No questions, good, best head out now or you'll get left behind, good luck," she said swiftly as she moved to begin feeding information to the crew. Here it was, months of work, now to see if it paid off.

 

[Livgardist]

"No questions here." Rowe said as they prepared to get going. He pushed down the lever of his rifle, opening the chamber, and pushed eight rounds into the weapon's tubular magazine with experienced hands. Afterwards, he pulled the lever closed again, chambering a round. He pulled the rifle up, leaning it upside down barrel against his shoulder, as he put his hat on, and walked towards the caravan. "I'm taking front." He said to Mirdala. "I'm not letting one of those gun thugs get us all killed." He was of course referring to the MU mercs, though he didn't have the self-awareness to realize that his own brusque personality was as likely to get them killed as the mercs were.

He exhaled some smoke from the cigar as he walked through the caravan up to its front. There, he stopped for a moment, looking around at the ragged mountainous wasteland of desert and sand rock laying ahead of them. Then, he started walking, taking his place next to the man who had shouted for them to move out, supposing that this was indeed the man that their female employer had referred to as Telkar Detan. Behind him the caravan's repulsorlift carts began to move as well, pulled by the nerfs. It was rudimentary, but like his Wellington Repeater, rudimentary was better than fancy in the harsh climate of Zonju V.

"Cigar?" He asked, offering the man next to him one.

 

[Grimlock]

Listening closely to the briefing, the Mandalorian made a few blinks against his HUD as he connected into the security teams open comms channel. "No questions. I've also taken the liberty." replied Dex as he tapped the side of his buy'ce where his communication unit was stored to indicate he had patched into the comm channels. Turning his gaze to observe the two Waste Rangers that had been assigned to the detail, he noticed a smaller individual in beskar'gam with the man in the trench coat and hat. He would guess the person was a woman, though beskar'gam gave little indication of such other than height. Shrugging it off, he turned to Cain as he hefted his BigRipper in one hand, slapping a fresh drum magazine into the magazine well before letting the weapon hang across the front of his armor. I'll take the front with the cowboy." spoke the Mando before making his way toward the front of the caravan.

He could that those in armor had repainted their color schemes to match the impending terrain they would be undertaking. This no doubt caused Dex to look rather flamboyant given the red paint that made up most of his armor's coloring minus the black stripe running down his left arm and across his helmet. He reached the front in time to find the trench coat wearing gunmen offering a cigar to a man with a cybernetic arm.