“Pleasure, Captain.” Poe mused as he wove to avoid fire from the TYE fighters, and any potentially accidental shots from the Roci. They were communicating, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t potentially blow his ass out of the sky. Already he’d heard the beacon of target-lock and a tremolo of worried, low chirps from his droid. “Yeah yeah, buddy. It’s good, we’re good.” He hushed the droid with a little grin, greatful when the firing in his particular direction seemed to halt entirely.
“Hold on, Holden. My droid is going to send through the information my command sees–you should be able to tell the difference between Resistance ships and First Order. I don’t want to have to threaten your lives, but if you take down any of my men, I might have to–watch your eight.” He added before weaving away from his position once more to try to draw the fighters way from the Rocinante with his own light fighter.
“Transfer of information’s complete, Rocinante. Did you get it?”
As Poe asked, the stream of information BB-8 patched through became available, painting the fewer Resistance fighters as friendlies, and the First Order ships as quite the opposite. “That biiiiig gray triangular monstrosity is a Dreadnaught-” Not unlike some of the fleet-named ships of other systems, he assumed the newcomers would know what a designation like Dreadnaught meant. “-They’re liable to chew you up and spit you out–or you know, obliterate you from existence. Stay out of range of the long range canons, I already took out the surface canons so short range shouldn’t be an issue as long as-” He glanced back at the Roci’s hull before huffing a soft laugh. “Well, don’t let the little guys overwhelm you.” Didn’t seem like it would be an issue, but Poe warned them anyway.
“Anyway, I’ll see you planet side hopefully, let’s end this.”
After excusing himself, the pilot sealed up the S-foils on that X-shaped fighter and shot forward with a sharp bit of thrust, but he kept the comm-channel open as he zipped around that aerial battlefield, marking and demolishing marks–and never once letting his attention fully off of the Roci.
Minutes or maybe hours later, Poe’s X-Wing was landed and the rotund ball of a droid leaned lightly against his boot whilst the pilot waited near enough to the designated landing pad, awaiting the appearance of the Rocinante’s crew–or at the very least, it’s captain. Swiping a hand through his hair, the black glove was tucked into one of the rigging belts draped around his hips. Poe Dameron was human, as were a good many of the Resistance fighters jogging around him, but there were also a number of non-human beings running around too.
In the end, the Roci had caught one direct hit of a small Gauss round that had punched a clean hole through both hulls, but missed the reactor by two inches. It was quickly patched up by Amos, who sent some rather colourful curses towards their attackers and told Bobbie to 'shoot that fucker down'. A request she gladly and gleefully complied with.
Apart from that, they had gotten away unscathed physically, but rather confused otherwise. The ships around them were not even remotely close to anything they knew from the Sol system and, according to the Roci's systems, far more advanced than anything that Earth, Mars and the Belt could produce if they combined their efforts.
Holden immediately turned suspicious and insisted on weapons when they went planetside.
That in itself had turned into an argument, because Holden didn't want Naomi down there and frankly, she had no particular desire to step foot on a planet that had, according to the ship's systems, 1G, give or take a few points. But Holden was unwilling to pass on the sheer brute force that was Amos and Bobbie and there was 'no fuckin' way I'm gonna stay up here, Hoss.' from Alex. He would meet that pilot, annoyingly high gravity be damned.
And that way they had not taken the shuttle, but actually brought the Rocinante down to the surface. Naomi had excused herself to go and lie down for the duration of their stay or at least until she didn't feel like her joints were being ground together when standing up and the rest had suited up to leave the ship to a strange planet that held, surprisingly, a breathable atmosphere and, at least according to the Rocinante, nothing their immune systems couldn't handle.
So when they stepped out of the ship lying uselessly on her belly in the dust, Holden, Amos and Alex were dressed in the Tachi's armoured environmental suits and carrying weapons nobody even bothered to hide. Behind them, towering over them all by more than a head was Gunnery Sargent Roberta Draper in her heavy, restored and upgraded Mark III. That alone was probably enough to tip anyone off that they were not to be trifled with, even without Amos shamelessly keeping his modified shotgun at the ready.
All four of them exchanged open mouthed, baffled glances that were punctuated with a shrug from Amos that made it very clear what he thought of the situation.
'Not the weirdest shit we've seen.'
Alex himself was much more fascinated with the ball shaped droid, that wiggled back and forth by the legs of the man who must be Poe Dameron, giving off small clicks and beeps.
"Damn.", Bobbie muttered behind him and Alex nodded in agreement, even though he was pretty sure they were talking about two different things, while Holden stepped forward.
"Commander Dameron? I'm Captain James Holden. It's … good to meet you in person.", he said, but didn't hold out his hand in greeting, instead his blue eyes seemed to skip and skitter around, catching on the many non-humans walking around as if it was not the most mindblowing thing he had seen in a while.
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