Suspect Chase Pew Pew Pew! (SGT Vega & CPT Calestorm)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place on the 3^rd day of our 72 Hour TBS and directly after the events of “Knock Knock”…

 

Planet Goram

14:54 Hours

Planetary Grid 3

 

“This is Cycle 15, Vega and Calestorm in pursuit of suspect. Request assistance from available Security and Marine patrols…”

 

They had crashed - no pun intended - someone’s party after busting into the way station storage shed; Jo-Jo and Crash had surprised a male pirate, sporting the colors of the Lunatic Jester Posse. That was all she’d been able to take in before diving for her life under a hail of plasma discharge.

 

Wind whipped the hover cycle as the pursuit speed continued to pick up. They got air off a hill and came down with a soft whumpf as the sensors detected the ground and the hover blades compensated for the forward motion.

 

The pirate swerved into a copse of trees and 15 followed. Crash swore as tree branches whipped them and snapped against the velocity of the cycle. They shot out the other side of the woods and dropped down into a valley.

 

The pew pew pew sound lancing across the air was reminiscent of a child’s toy blaster gun and belied the actuality of the deadly energy blasts screaming towards them. Crash ducked and several shots tore through where her head had been. Helmets were wonderful but she preferred not taking a direct shot to the face, thank you very much.

 

Hunkering down behind Sergeant Vega - who used the windshield for what little cover it provided - she flipped the safety setting of her Diatron blaster from plasma stun to disc launch out the lower secondary barrel.

 

She spoke into the helmet to helmet mic pick up. “This Jester’s good! I’m not messing around anymore! Pull up as close as you can and I’m going to EC the little so and so!”

 

Vega nodded and complied, the bike lurching forward to close the gap. It was easier for him to drive and control the hover cycle as Crash handled the pew pew pew duties. Even with the stability assist activated, she’d have been hard pressed to keep the cycle steady with Vega firing; he was a big boy.

 

Shifting her center of gravity, Crash stayed seated as she leaned out to fire. With a growl she mercilessly let loose with all four of the electronic countermeasure discs, the blaster recoiling in her grip. One disc got caught in a wind gust and went wide but the other three attached to the bike. With the combined jolt the EC’s fried the cycle and it dumped, all systems shut down.

 

The pirate flew off his ride and a panicked cry was cut off in mid-yelp as he impacted with the grassy slope and rolled to a gangly stop.

 

The hover bike made a single sweep as the enlisted and commissioned officer assessed the downed man and the vehicle; Cycle 15 landed and powered down to standby mode.

 

The captain kept her weapon trained on the motionless form in the distance while Vega slid easily off the seat and moved forward cautiously, kneeling down to check for a pulse. Crash hopped off the cycle and stood nearby, head on a swivel as she covered Jo-Jo and visually assessed the grasslands for any incoming threats.

 

“He still breathing?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

She spoke into her helmet mic. “This is Crash. Suspect unconscious, in custody. Medical team requested on site….”