Concerned they are going to be boxed in, Lalam doubles his efforts to deal with these Krogan fellows behind the truck. He muscles his way out of a bad spot, and is rewarded by a solid thrust to the groin of the Krogan in front of him. "That's right," he says, as the Krogan sinks down. "Just sit down a minute, and breathe. Breathe! There you go," he grins as the Krogan falls over completely. But the effort makes him breathe heavily himself. He shrugs and shakes some sweat out of his eyes, and waits for their next attack.

In the distance Larik spots a telltale could of dust tearing towards the battle at an alarming pace. He's paralyzed by indecision briefly but decides to throw himself into the pilot seat of the speeder truck, shouting to Lalam that he'll be right back for him, and backs it down the street, sliding into position between Naught and Queg and their assailants.

"Naught! Queg! Get in! They've got more coming! We need to go grab Lalam and get out of here!"

The truck now moving spurs the Krogan into action,bathe leader hits a button to inject some stims into his aching body, then moves out of the line of fire, bellowing in Krogan "don't let that slimy shaman get away, the rest of the squad will be here shortly"

A captive shaman is a highly valued prize and letting one get away would be a slur to their clan. They take care, listening to the direction of their leader, and time their fire well, getting a solid shot on their target before the truck slides between them. Crap, they have no visual now and are going to have to move if they want to claim their prize.

Meanwhile the Krogan further down the street give one last solid kick at Lalam, he try's blocking with his club but it's battered from his hand, satisfied they see their fellow clan racing to intercept they take the opportunity to back away down the street, it's not often an outsider bests 3 Krogan warriors all on their own.

Just as they start backing away the shots fired by their friends slam home. Screaming down the narrow street comes a land speeder, one Krogan behind the wheel while 4 more hang out the sides, blasters up and firing. A couple of blasts ping off the tough hide of the Weequay, but others find a soft spot, the burning will sting for hours.

Lalam sees the Krogan flee and he's tempted to chase them down. Bastards! He's starting to hate them. "Shoot me in the back, willya?!" But Larik is yelling to go, and he's probably right. He scoops up his club, races for the truck Queg and commandeered, and leaps aboard, cracking his knee on the frame. Hurts like the blazes, but fades quickly. At least he made it. He hopes Queg is a good driver...

Watching the Gand drop like a sack of potatoes invoked more of the current rage he was feeling, but the fact that two of his companions were pretty beat up, and he himself wasn't in the best shape cooled his feelings somewhat. With the help of the Krogan in the truck bed, he managed to haul the Gand into the bed as well. He tossed his hunting blaster in the bed as well and crammed himself into the driver's seat.

Before he could say anything else, Lalam booked it to the truck and hopped onto the side. He accelerated the vehicle as quickly as he could, swerving around to move away from the approaching speeder.

Well, this is different , thinks Lalam. Clinging to the side of the truck he palms his blaster. The weight of it gives him some reassurance. "Hold 'er steady!" he yells as he squints along the sight. The driver of the vehicle behind them slides into view. "Like my papa quay always said," he mutters, "if you want to deal with a snake..." (blam blam blam) "...you take out the head!"

the driver curses as a couple of bolts blast through the windshield and into his chest "Slow that dam truck down" he shouts to the Krogan hanging out the window. They oblige, levelling their blasters at the truck and releasing a swarm of shots, punching into the back of it, hitting the grav systems underneath. Qheg reacts instinctively, dodging and weaving, but being unused to to bulk of such a vehicle it gets the wobbles, tipping side to side and almost hitting a building. Everyone inside grabs for a hand hold, trying not to fall over or knock into something.

Larik hears the groaning from the maglift dampeners and instinctively reaches out for a tie down strap, just in time to prevent himself from tumbling around the rear of the truck. Those last bolts were too close, he thinks, and staggers toward the doors. Laying on his stomach he reaches for the internal handles and begins swinging them closed. He sees Lalam's very puzzled face pop around the side.

"If you want in just knock!," Larik shouts to Lalam, struggling to make himself heard over the roar of repulsor lifts and blaster fire. "I'll make you a new door in a second if you want!"

With that he slams the doors closed and secures the latch, while also drawing his lightsaber. With the flick of a button the dark cargo area lights up with a deep orange glow and he forces the tip of the saber through the door he just secured. With surgical precision he cuts two small portholes into the doors.

"For shooting," he says to the Krogan. "Gun. Hole. Shoot. Naught, if you're feeling up to it, Queg could probably use some cover fire."

Queg keeps his head down as much as possible as he's driving the truck away from their pursuers, but the vehicle is largely unfamiliar to him, the roads even more so. His eyes flick to the controls every few seconds to make sure nothing is amiss, then they flick back to the road. Sweat is beading on his forehead from the pressure, but he manages to retain focus, despite the situation they're in. "If you see anyone riding a six-one-zero AVA Dart," he calls back to those in the truck's bed, "Shoot them for me."

Larik hears Queg through the comm system saying something involving numbers and letters.

"I don't know what that is," he says, partly to himself, partly to Naught and the Krogan. "Does anyone know that is?"

He can tell Naught is reaching out to the force. And the Krogan, well, they're clearly beyond their grasp of Basic.

"We don't know what that is," he shouts into the comm. "How about we just shoot at all of them? Does that work?"

Lalam's arm is getting tired, and the way Queg is driving he wonders how long it will be before he's a skid mark on one of the buildings. "Going up top!" he yells. He swings up to the roof of the truck, banging and scraping his elbows as he does, but rolls over, and takes a pot shot at the speeder behind. It's no good, he can't get a clear shot and sparks just fly. This gun just won't penetrate that armour. But...another plan begins to form in his mind...it's crazy, but...it just might work!

He comms back to Larik. "It's a speeder that should look smaller than the others. No weapons on it either. It...I have a Nightsister Energy Bow in the storage compartment. It's very valuable to me."

Queg manages to successfully maneuver the truck through the streets, but despite what evasion he can muster out of the clunker, he neither gains nor loses ground. He is focusing on the road, smug in his piloting skills, when a hail of blaster fire from the pursuing Krogan pours into the truck's hull. The entire vehicle shudders from repeated impacts. Queg's grip tightens on the wheel as he attempts to maintain control over the craft. Suddenly, sparks pour from the dilapidated navcomputer on the console as it catastrophically fails. Smoke from the device's failure fills the driver compartment and spills into the back of the truck, making visibility temporarily more difficult.

And so the chase continues. The pilot of the land speeder races through the narrow streets, dodging piles of rubble and the occasional wrecked vehicle. But that truck just keeps on staying ahead, it may be slow but somehow the dam pilot always picks the perfect route. Yurni thinks to herself "dam whoever is driving that donkey of a truck sure knows what they are doing" Either way the prize of a shaman would be worth the effort, if only they could catch up.

"Boys get a move on and stop that bloody thing, it may be tough but you know where all the delicate bits are, shoot the thing." The 4 Krogan relax for a moment, and take time limit up their next shot, timing it perfectly. They wait for the truck to be taking a corner, then unleash a storm of fire on the cab of the vehicle, sparks fly, and a grin crosses the drivers face... "But what's that lunatic on the roof doing?"

Queg coughs heavily from all the smoke in the cabin. His large eyes stream tears to stay clear, however and he manages to keep his concentration on the road. Feeling more confident and less strained mentally, he smirks and swerves around a sharp curve, allowing his companions a possible pseudo "ambush" attack when the Krogan round the same corner.

This is intense, buildings fly past the windows, rubble piles ltter the road. Trying to remain vigilant Yurni focuses, but all the distractions keep getting her attention, she is reacting late to obstacles and spends as much time slowing down as she does speeding up. But finally an opportunity opens up, a shortcut... Over a perfectly placed pile of rock, what could go wrong! "Get a hold of something, things are about to get crazy!"

Behind her the Krogan on bikes get a good read of the dangers, between the truck and speeder dodging and weaving they do a bang up job of always picking the quickest path, shaving a second here, half a second there.

The ride finally smoothes back out a bit and helps Larik think more clearly. He suddenly remembers Lama handing him a couple of grenades. He takes a second to calm his breathing and to gauge the distance between them and their pursuers, quickly doing some mental calculations to figure out approximately when the Krogan's truck will be where he needs it for maximum damage.

He briefly closes his eyes again to visualize the attack, then he's flipping the grenade out the porthole he made.

"Gotcha," he whispers, watching it arc perfectly onto the truck and exploding exactly when he hoped.

He's a little disturbed by how satisfying the explosion is, how the initial energy burst rocks the truck, followed up by a secondary blast that sends a couple of the Krogan flying from the sides and by the looks of it, does some additional damage to a couple more.

He'd done everything he could to avoid harming them, but circumstances and their actions left him no choice. His parents taught him sometimes you have to defend yourself. Being repeatedly shot at by bloodthirsty warmongers seemed like it would qualify.

Naught shook herself for what seemed like the hundredth time today. That vision...whatever it meant, it had thoroughly unsettled the Gand, but there were pressing matters to attend to. She looked out the door hole at the speeder pursuing them, still rocking from Larik's thrown grenade. The vision seemed to her to be an indication that continuing to draw upon the Force would be unwise, and at any rate, it only seemed to encourage the Krogan in their pursuit. But without the Force, her options were quite limited.

Then her eyes widened as she was struck with inspiration.

Pulling her backpack from her back, she began frantically rummaging through it. She carried a wilderness survival kit in case she found herself stranded on a sparsely inhabited world. And inside the survival kit...she chuckled with triumph as she pulled the emergency flare gun case from her pack, snapped it open, and popped a flare into the gun. Turning back to the hole, she took careful aim and fired, but the recoil from the gun was greater than she expected, and the flare flew wide into a pile of rubble. I suppose this is probably intended to fire up , she thought, but anything that makes us more unpredictable will confuse the Krogan. She was already starting to breath a little easier.

Queg's too good a driver, and Lalam's plan fades away. He's almost glad, it would have been pretty risky. "Shoot! Somebody shoot!" he hears Queg yell, so instead Lalam tumbles down to the truck's box, grabs the rifle and slides it into the peephole carved by Larik. "I hope I don't break this one too, Queg will never forgive me", he mutters. It's a pretty sweet piece of equipment, Lalam has to admire how steadily the Krogan driver behind them slides into view. He breathes out calmly, like his daddy used to do, and...bam! A solid hit.

Having discussed a plan to retrieve the group's speeder bikes, Queg looks desperately for a place to set up the "clothesline". "Ah! Success!" he exclaims to no one in particular, but in his excitement, he pulls too close to the building, clipping one of the potential anchor points for the wire, making it slightly more difficult to set up the trap. "We're here," he calls back, "Everyone out and get set up for the ambush."

As the truck shuddered to a halt, Naught sprang into action, quickly grabbing the multitool from her survival kit and looping the coils of microfiber over her shoulder. She tosses her survival knife to Larik, who throws open the doors at the back of the truck as they prepare to exit, and she pauses. She turns and looks into the back at the Krogan huddling in the truck. Slowly, she reaches a hand up and removes the scanner goggles from face, revealing her compound eyes. "We must seem so strange to you," she says, "our motives inscrutable. Know this," she continues, turning to face them fully, hoping that they can fully understand her tone if not her words, "we intervened for no one's sake but your own. To help you. That may strike you as foolish, even insane," Naught does not have to look to know the reaction Larik is struggling to suppress, "but it is a foolishness that you cannot afford to reject. Help us stop those slavers," she says, pointing behind her out the truck, then at their feet, "and this truck will carry you home instead of to bondage. You will be able to relocate or re-secure your home against the next attack instead of running with your enemies nipping at your heels or succumbing to their power. Help us, and take back control of your destinies." Without waiting to see their reactions, she turns and leaps from the cab of the truck onto the ground.

Once everyone disembarks from the truck to set up the trap, Queg attempts to throttle up and move the truck further down the road and possibly into an alley or alcove. Unfortunately for him and the rest of the group, the truck's engine dies instead, coughing out a breath of near-finality. Queg swears under his breath. There wasn't time to restart the unfamiliar vehicle without drawing suspicion from the rapidly approaching speeder bikes. He jogs down to the ambush point, retrieving his hunting rifle from Lalam along the way. "Bad news, everyone," he admits, "Truck won't start."

Naught tries to set up a tripline with the assistance of the Krogan, but they just can't seem to get it anchored. Every time it looks like they have it in place, the rubble shifts and the whole thing collapses. Hearing the whine of the speeder bikes grow closer, she quickly improvises, telling the Krogan, "Okay, half of you on this side, half on the other side. Keep the line down on the ground where they won't see it, and pull it up just before they hit it to knock them off the speeders. You'll have to hold tight to keep the line from getting pulled away from you." She begins running out into the middle of the road well past the trap, shouting "This Gand will draw them in!"

As the last of you dive into cover the sound of speeder bikes fills your ears. Your own bikes scream around the corner, sparks flying as they brush the ground. The riders look up the road to see the truck parked and much closer than expected. Between them and the truck is Lalam standing in the middle of the road "wha..." Is all that escapes the lead riders mouth before he is liberated of his head, his bike slows quickly and with a little crunch ends sideways against a crumbling building.

The others following fare much better, if by better you mean loosing control trying to avoid their recently deceased friend. They all manage to duck the temporary clothes line, but not being expert riders the two pilots loose control, swinging wide on the turn and crash almost side by side through one of the still standing walls. This feat normally reserved for daredevils is unsettling to say the least with all three being thrown from the saddle on impact. They do come to rest quickly, laying on the ground and partly covered in rubble, the bikes now scratched and slightly dented next to them.

As the pursuing Krogan collect their senses, Naught rushes to the dead one and grabs his stun grenade, tossing it through the hole in the wall in the hopes of knocking them out completely. Unfortunately, when the flash and smoke clears, the Krogan have regained their feet and drawn their rifles. Persistent, aren't they? Naught thinks ruefully to herself.