Roth followed G into the shuttle, and sat down on the too small seat. He ignored the discomfort as the non padded seat dug into his hindquarters; he was to excited to start his first official mission with the Nazgul Squadron. A lot had changed with Roth’s overall attitude since joining up, of course he didn’t realize it, nor would he admit it. His tough guy act died down a bit, he didn’t feel like he had to constantly watch his back anymore, and he had started to relax.

Roth was in the hangar, talking to a tech about his Interceptor’s paint job. He had painted in black Nazgul, and underneath that, the fighter’s name, ‘Death Dealer.’ The cockpit exterior was also the rust red, and the wings stayed the same, except the frame work was painted rust as well. He smiled, walking away. That’s when he got the call from G. Looking back, he could see the techs loading the Nazgul fighters into a shuttle, and he smiled, mission time. He broke into a jog,

He looked around as the rest of the Squadron filed in; giving a nod to some of the people he was familiar with. Once everyone was seated, he could feel the Lambda shuttle lift away, breaking the artificial gravity, and soon the tug was gone, and everyone floated for a mere second, as the shuttle’s gravity kicked in, a small clump sound of everyone hitting their seats. Roth hadn’t a clue where they were going, all G had told him was to get ready, and fast. He had put his flight suit on, sans helmet, which he had hurriedly clipped to his bag which contained all items one would expect, which he had basically just thrown into the bag. He had no personal effects beside a few changes of clothes, t-shirts emblazoned with the Navy insignia on the chest, simple jeans and whatnot.

He thought of the sims, and how hard it was to merely stay alive, which he never did, but he felt this was the time to prove himself, for real, to chalk up his first kill. He suspected pirates where behind this; they usually were on the fringe worlds, either that or a Republic strike team trying to capture the world. He didn’t care, whoever they are will get a big surprise when Nazgul Squadron shows.

The squadron talked among themselves, but Roth kept silent. He reached down to his bag, and started to pull out his only personal item, something he smuggled in, a cigar and his zippo. He thought about it for a second, and put them back in the bag, deciding to celebrate when they returned back to the Atrus after the mission. Besides, he didn’t think others would appreciate it too much, and the air reticulating system couldn’t handle it he was certain.

OOC:

WC 476. Subpar I know, but I'm outta practice.

The ruby-skinned Twi’lek shed the last of her clothes and stood before Gshlecc with a heated, hungry look in her eyes.  He dropped his towel and took her in his arms. She was warm and slick with perspiration.  They fit together as a male and female should.  He kissed her as if she were the last female he’d ever have, she returned the enthusiasm.  They moved to the bed as one, lips never parting.  G lowered her to the bed, she moved to receive him.  Driver took his…

DAH DAH DAH DAH…

  He woke in a start.  It took a few moments for him to come to the realization that it was all a wonderful dream.  A dream now interrupted by the strains of the Imperial March coming from his data pad.  The sleep mode had engaged itself due to the time, and did its job.  He was now wide awake, parts of him more awake than others.

That’s one dream I’m NEVER gonna tell Yulia about

  The data pad chimed again.  This time G was able to grab it before it went to a third verse.  He thumbed the ‘RECEIVE’ button. The message was from Trevor. 

Hmmf, he must be back from leave

Your flight, shuttle bay C8, fifteen minutes

  Wonderful

  Driver hauled himself from the rack and jumped in the fresher.  Within 10 minutes he’d showered, shaved and dressed.  He grabbed his pilots pack from its place by the door and headed out the door.  He eased down the hall to collect Roth.  The kid had showed a lot of moxie during simms, and he hadn’t seen a scrap of trouble since that little hootenanny in the cantina.

  Good thing too, I’m out of duct tape

  G smiled to himself as he moved to knock on Roth’s door.  Roth’s face suddenly materialized where a door had once been.  Driver held up on his knock, since now he would have only managed to pummel his wingman in the nose.

  “Now that’s timing.” G joked as Roth joined him in the hall.

  Roth grinned back and said,”Good wingmen are supposed to anticipate their partners moves.”

  “Who said you were good?” G said, running with the joke.

  “Rusty did, last night, as we were sharing our hopes and dreams over a cold glass of blue milk and cookies.” He stated with sarcasm dripping from every word.

  “Right, the day the Wook drinks blue milk, let alone says a kind word about any of us is the day I join the ‘Committee to Re-Elect Mon Mothma’.” He said laughingly.

  The two men ambled in the direction of the prescribed hangar.  They had an easy gait about them and looked untroubled.  They both knew they should enjoy this time, a pilot never knows when his current mission will be his last mission.  They picked up more Nazguls as they went.  Girias joined them, and informed them that he now wanted to be known by the call sign “Lousy”.  Roth and G looked at him and laughed.  They nodded and continued to laugh as they acquired Dante as well. Dante laughed so hard he cried when told of Girias’ choice.  They all were in high spirits as they approached the hangar.
  A young man waited by a turbolift door as the Nazzies walked by.  He was an average looking fellow, about G’s height and a little thinner.  He was dressed in a standard pilot’s duty uniform, and had duffel at his feet.  As the Nazgul’s neared he flagged them down.

  “Do any of you guys know where I can find Nazgul Squadron?” he asked.

  Driver grinned at him and turned his shoulder to the young man, pointing at his Squadron patch.

  “What can we do for you, son?” Driver asked in a parental tone.

  The pilot looked at G and said, “I’ve just been assigned to you, and I need to report to the CO.”

  G waved for the young man’s papers and quickly perused them as he chatted up the others about his ride in. 

  “All righty then, It says here that you are one SCRW Andros Zarkheim and that you belong to me.” He said with a smile as he returned the orders to the young man with a flourish.  Zarkheim took the papers and stood staring at Driver in a daze.

  G laughed to himself. “I am your Flight Leader.” He said in a slow playful tone.

  It took Andros two full heartbeats to realize that G was his immediate superior, at which point he snapped to full attention, saluted and, in a near scream, said, “Senior Crewman Zarkheim reporting as ordered, sir.”

  G returned the salute, and said, “Very nice Zarkheim, but save it for the parade. My name is Gshlecc Atrasin; you can call me G or Driver.  This erstwhile young man is Roth Leber, my wingman.  This is Dante Devant, and Girias Bomban…he’s lousy.”

  Zarkheim shook hands with the knot of Nazzies before him and repeated all their names. 

  G continued, “You have impeccable timing Mr. Zarkheim. We have been ordered to meet at the very hangar that lies at the end of this hall in three minutes for an unknown reason.  Grab your gear and let’s get in there.  You don’t want to be late on your first day of school.”

  G waved the Nazzies forward.  As they neared the hangar they were joined by both Rogue and Jeg.  The two senior men nodded at G and the rest of the men and continued on in silence.  Jeg did a quick turn, fell out of step and counted the pack of pilots as they moved toward the bay. 

  “Where’s Lamel?” he asked.

  G shrugged.  He knew where her body was, it was on psych leave, where SHE was he had no clue.  She was an ok pilot, but her head wasn’t right, and that can get you killed.  He was glad that Shaz had switched her and Roth.  The kid was gonna be good, and his head was in the game every time they went out.  That was the kind of wingman that allowed you to grow old. 

  Well, in my case, OLDER

  He heard Rogue tell Jeg, and every other Nazzie, that she was in for a psych eval.  That would end all questions quickly.  They arrived at the hangar and found Trevor waiting for them.  He seemed to be lost in a thought, and either didn’t notice or care that his squadron had just arrived.  He snapped out of it after a quick moment and proceeded to give the group a thumbnail sketch of what was waiting for them.  He didn’t go into detail, but let them know that whatever was out there was theirs to deal with.  He grabbed his gear and boarded the nearby shuttle.  The rest of Nazgul followed.

  As the shuttle lifted off G pointed Trevor out for Andros, and said, “That’s the old man.  Go report in, and try not to scare him.”

  Andros laughed, “Will do, and call me Zark. Everyone does.”
  Driver watched as the young man mad his way across the cramped shuttle, saluted Trev, and handed him his orders.

  That was ME only a few monts back

  Gshlecc laughed to himself again.  Now was not the time to get sentimental. Now was the time to think about what he learned in the simms.  He had to make sure he didn’t make those mistakes out here in the real.  There was no ‘Reset’ button out here. 

  The shuttle ride from Atrus to Calamity didn’t take long.  Even so he heard plenty of griping about sore asses and numb legs due to hard seats.  They landed and were given their bunk assignments.  Now in his first real mission as a Flight Leader, G was given his own bunk, just like Trev, Rogue, and Jeg.  Zark was put up with Roth.

  Trevor addressed the Nazzies prior to setting off for his bunk, “OK, it’s a six day trip out. Get rest, stay sharp and stay loose we’re going to hit hard and hot when we arrive.  Until then you have full run of the ship. Roth and Rusty stay out of the cantina.  The rest of you stay out of trouble, we’ll have enough when we get there.  Senior officers will have a briefing for you in the next few days.  Nazguls, dismissed.”

  Driver slung his gear over his shoulder and headed for his bunk. 

  I need a shower and a nap…then, maybe a drink

OOC:

1420 words

After reporting to both his squadron CO and his flight leader, Zark found a seat on the shuttle and settled in for the ride to Calamity. He spent the whole time observing his new comrades, the Nazguls. Some of the pilots were talking in hushed tones during the flight but most were silent. Once the shuttle arrived everyone was rushing to get out, Zark was one of the last ones out, letting those who wanted to push ahead.

Zark took his bag and headed to the Bunk where he was assigned along with his flight mate Roth. He placed his bag on the foot of the bunk and headed to the hanger, he needed to  get acquainted with is new fighter. He headed down to the flight bay and headed over to the spot where his ship was being held. He looked up at the interceptor and thought to himself.

It may not be pretty, but it's mine.

Zark stood there looking up at the TIE Interceptor lost in thought, his mind still trying to catch up, a few days ago he was at the academy, now he's geting ready to fly with the Nazguls. And possibly die with the Nazguls, and that thought scared him a little.
He spent the next couple of hours looking over his ship and it's specs. He was after all trying to avoid some of the other pilots.

He had spent most of the day with his new ship, looking up its maintanance and service histories, and list of modifications. He was trying to become familiar with every aspect of his ship. He had a few interuptions every once in awhile, but for the most part he was left alone. When he finished he looked at his chrono.

"Zero one," he paused, "no wonder I'm so tired and hungry." He mumbled to himself.

He made his way back to his room, sat on his bunk and grabbed a ration bar out of his bag and started to eat it. He looked around the room, Roth was in his bunk asleep. Zark discarded the rest of his ration bar, laid down and tried to get a good night's sleep.

Day 2

Zark awoke with a start, in a cold sweat.
What was I dreaming? he thought to himself.

He looked around, Roth was still in his bunk asleep. He looked at his chrono in the darkness and it read 0445.

Might as well get an early start on the day he thought to himself.

His stomach started to growl as he put on his uniform.

I think I'll get some real food this morning

He made his way to the mess hall without encountering a lot of people on his way there. When he arrived he grabbed a tray of what some would consider 'tasteless ship food' but he enjoyed it, it reminded him of his childhood. He sat there and ate, taking his time, watching more people come in for breakfast and wondering what would be instore for him today.

OOC:

We should all be aboard the VSD-II. Do…stuff. Briefing will be Tuesday or Wednesday. Stay tuned.

Jegora was hanging into his TIE, the upper half of his body inside the cockpit, his lower half outside. From this position he was able to work on most of the control surfaces and reach most of the wiring. The only downside was the extreme head rush that would follow when he eventually pulled himself out of the TIE. Still, it was a worthy tradeoff, and the young pilot was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice the abnormal amount of blood rushing to his head.

Using a pair of wire cutters that he had taken of his utility vest, Jegora reached down behind his TIE’s power feed monitors and snipped a blue fiber optic wire that ran to the TIE’s power output controls. Next he pulled an electric socket from his vest and detached the display from the cockpit, as he had done with several other monitors. He then swung himself out of the TIE, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He reached into his bag, sitting just beside the hatch, and pulled out a new monitor, one that was custom designed and built a friend who was an electrician aboard the Atrus. He also grabbed several feet of all-purpose fiber optic wire, also taken from the same friend.

Lowering himself back into the hatch Jegora set the new display on the seat and scanned the cockpit of his ship. It was a mess. Wires were hanging from all over, wires that should have been connected to displays. Instead, they now hanging lose, waiting to be connected to the new display Jegora was about to install.

Gather all the wires, he gauged the amount of cable he would have splice to each one, then began to cut and splice. When he was done, all the cables reached to where he was going to mount the new display, just to the left of the yoke. Previously that space had been occupied by a communications display, a systems display, and an engine monitor. The new monitor would display all his ships vital functions, including power output, engine performance, damage indicators, weapon status, radar and communications status, and perhaps most importantly, his shield strength.

After he had the display hooked up to all the wires, Jegora had to mount it. For this purpose he had requisitioned a large piece of duralite pipe, special pipe that was expensive, strong, and for especially important for his purposes, extremely light. He had measured it, cut it, and made the brackets for the display in the mechanics shop an hour earlier. Now it was bolted to the floor of the TIE’s cockpit, and was ready to hold the display.

With efficient movements that spoke of his time in a mechanics shop, Jegora bolted the display into place. Now all he had to do was attach all the wires. This was easier said than done, because although Jegora had grown up in a mechanics shop, there were still a LOT of wires. The young pilot studied the wires for a minute, and the labeling on the back of the display. Finally he figured it out, and after a few minutes of tracing wires back to their sources to figure what was what he had everything plugged in and bolted down.

With a sigh Jegora swung his upper body out of the cockpit, hitting his head on the edge of the hatch in the process.

“Son of a bantha!” he sword loudly as his head hit the hard metal. Sitting up on his TIE he held his throbbing head.

From back behind him he heard a laugh. He turned, still holding his head, to see a woman standing some ten yards away, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. It took Jegora a moment to realize that she was laughing at him. With a growl he packed his tools into his bag and dropped the floor, grunting slightly.

“Something funny?” he asked, his voice hard.

The woman seemed not to notice his hard tone. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Jegora himself. She had auburn colored hair, cut to below her shoulders. It was against regulations, but Jegora figured that she didn’t much care. Her eyes were light blue, and she was slightly tanned. Jegora couldn’t help but notice her rather attractive figure: flat stomach, curves where it counted, and a perfect heart-shaped face.

Still, her friendly mood and gorgeous looks were not enough to lift Jegora’s dark mood. No guy took well to being laughed at, and Jegora now had a throbbing headache along with his troubled mind and bruised ego.

“Well, except for the fact that a hotshot fighter pilot such as yourself just hit his head on his ship…no, not really,” she said, stifling another laugh.

Jegora grimaced, subconsciously raising a hand to where his head had struck the TIE. Even though his head hurt like hell, the woman’s cheerful mood was infecting Jegora. “Yah, well,” he said, his voice slightly less rough, “it kinda snuck up on me there.”

The woman gave another laugh and moved a few steps closer. “You’re with Nazgul, right?” she asked, clearly genuinely interested.

“That’s right,” Jegora said. “My name’s Jegora. And you are…?”

“Elizabeth Itleau. You can call me Liz,” she said, smiling again. “I’m a pilot too, although I admit that I don’t get to fly one of these. I’m with Ronin Squadron; standard TIE Fighters for us.”

Jegora smiled back, rather surprised at himself. “And you can call me Jeg,” he said. “And don’t feel bad about the TIE Fighters…this is actually my first mission with this ship. I’m looking forward to it.”

The woman nodded and turned to his fighter. “So what exactly were you doing in there? I watched you for some time, and that couldn’t have been comfortable,” she said.

Jegora shrugged his large shoulders and walked over to his TIE’s rack. Motioning up the ladder, he said, “Come on up and I’ll show you,” he said.

Liz threw a curious look at Jeg, then scrambled up the ladder. Once at the top she dropped herself into the TIE with ease. Jegora was rather impressed; he wished he himself could get in and out of his TIE that easily.

“Oh…” she said once she was in the ship. “You…er…where is everything?” she asked.

Jegora gave a small laugh and dropped his upper body into the ship. He pointed at the display. “I replaced the multiple monitors with that display I had a friend build for me. As you can see, he does good work.”

The woman studied the display, then pushed Jegora’s shoulders out of the way and leaned over the display. Jegora was rather uncomfortable now. The inside of a TIE Interceptor wasn’t big to begin with, and the woman sitting inside along with Jegora’s upper body made it even smaller. Still, he waited patiently for the girl to inspect his work. He was rather proud of it.

And so it was that he was rather surprised when the girl boldly announced, “This isn’t right.”

Jegora blinked, then pulled his upper body out of the cockpit. “What do you mean it isn’t right?” he asked, somewhat taken aback.

The girl was still leaning over the display, studying the man wires plugged into the back. “You have your engine and reactor wires crossed up. It will never work,” she said, clarifying. “Here, let me switch em…” she trailed off.

Jegora grimaced, not liking the idea of the woman messing with his ship. Still, there was little he could do aside from pulling her out of the cockpit, and from her graceful movements climbing up the ladder Jegora figured she was stronger than she looked.

Suddenly her head popped out of the hatch, nearly colliding with Jegora’s. “Well come on,” she said, “Take a look.”

Jegora sighed and lowered his head back into the hatch. Then, before he could do anything to stop her, the girl powered up the TIE. With a grimace he waited for the whole thing to go up in a mess of sparks and fire, but to his surprise the display flickered to life and began to list off his ships’ systems status. A huge grin split his face as the girl gave a slight laugh in triumph.

Pulling himself out of the TIE as Liz shut the fighter down, Jegora checked the chrono on his writs. By his estimation he had spent four hours rewiring the entire inside of his ship, and it apparently worked. He would continue to test it and make modifications to the system over the next couple of days, but for now he was quite pleased.
The young flight leader reached over and helped the young woman out of the cockpit before dropping to the floor, Liz right behind him. “So,” he said slowly, “what are you doing?”

The girl blushed slightly. “Well, to be honest, I wanted to check out the TIE Interceptor I heard was parked here…” she said, trailing off.

Jegora grinned. “Good,” he said, “then you have time to come eat with me. I’ve been working for a while, and I’m starving.”

Liz looked around, blushing again, then gave a slight nod. As the two walked together out of the repair bay, Jegora had to wonder at his complete change of mood. Somehow this woman he had just met managed to make him feel better than he had in weeks, and all in the space of twenty minutes.

With a light smile, Jegora walked next to the woman to the mess hall. Perhaps the Navy wasn’t so bad after all.

OOC:

1623

Roth immediately went to his bunk and crashed, the bumpy flight had taken a lot out of him, and he wasn’t going to waste anytime getting to his bunk. He mostly ignored his new flight member, shouldering past him as he made his way to the barracks. He hoped the new man was competent, but didn’t care one way or another as long as Roth didn’t have to answer to him.

He made it to his bunk, ignoring the other inhabitants in the hallway, and without even changing, collapsed on his bed. He slept soundly, no dreams plagued his conscious, rarely ever did, and all was blackness to the pilot until his chrono went off. He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes. He grabbed his duffel and pulled out an extra set of clothes, and hit the fresher. He came out five minutes later with the clean clothes on. He had one objective in mind for the day, to get some extra practice in, and with that in mind, he made his way to the simulators, using his card to gain access.

He slid into the cockpit, and closed the door, a little bit of private practice excited him to no end. He set up the sim to be in outer space, against a flight of X wings, above the planet Corellia. The blackness of space soon enveloped the Interceptor, and Roth spotted his enemies, coming in high and fast.

Roth fired a couple of shots, one a dead miss, and another bounced off the shields of the lead X wing. Roth picked up the speed and barrel rolled past them, and pulled a hard g-break to bring his sights to their rear. He was gaining a lock on the lead fighter, when the whole flight pulled apart, now Roth had two enemy fighters behind him. Klaxons blared as two target locks were confirmed. He swore as they fired proton torpedoes at him, and though he juked, they followed him closely, getting nearer by the second.

Roth pushed the throttle, the engine whined in protest, and he barely managed to avoid the two torpedoes. The lock was broken, and he pulled a hard G-turn to bring his sights to all three fighters, who were once again in formation. He immediately targeted the center fighter, the flight leader, and almost immediately got a lock. He fired his own missile as the distance between Roth and the flight was about fifty meters. The enemy had no where to go, as the flight’s formation was too tight. The torpedo hit its target, throwing the wing men away from one another. Roth flew through the debris, a triumphant yell escaping his lips. Two down, one to go.

He spotted the other two enemies recuperating from the blast, one had a damaged wing, the other was still spiraling away. Targeting the damaged ship, Roth charged full speed and fired his lasers at the enemy. He smiled as he watched the shields disintegrate, and he fired another couple of shots at the enemy. A brilliant explosion sent a shockwave through space, rocking Roth’s Interceptor slightly. He looked for the final X wing, and found it charging at high velocity. Roth pulled a quick turn and dumb fired another missile, then fired a laser blast at the projectile. The laser hit the missile, causing a massive explosion, with caught the enemy in a fire storm of death. It sat crippled, and Roth fired more laser blasts, igniting the last X wing into nothingness.

Roth stepped out of the sim cockpit just in time to see the door open, and the new wing mate enter the simulation room. Roth leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his face. He always forgot how intense these battles were, simulation or not.

OOC:

WC 631. Sorry about leaving that placer for so long, but I slipped and fell yesterday, and wasn't capable of typing. I might have a hairline fracture in my right shin...

Trip must’ve taken more outta me than I thought

  G threw his legs over the side of the bunk and sat up.  He checked his chrono.  Thirteen hours had elapsed since he threw his gear on the chair in his bunk.  He had skipped the drink and hit the hay straight away.  Now he sat in a dark room in a rumpled duty uni reeking like a wet Wookiee.  He stripped off his kit and hopped in the ‘fresher shower.  The near-scalding water felt good.  He could feel life surge back into his body.  He could feel his pores open up with every minute he spent under the steaming jets.  He grabbed his razor and shaved in the shower.  When finished he lathered up and washed away the last remnants of the shuttle flight over. 

  He dried off and put on a fresh uniform.  The chrono read 06:30 – breakfast time.  He grabbed his data pad and headed out to the mess.  He wanted to get caught up on Flight paperwork while he ate.  No on had told him that with power come bureaucrats.

  Might not have taken the job if I had known how many trees I’d be killing

  He laughed to himself.  He knew he would have taken the Flight Leader’s slot if it had required twice the forms, and a weekly visit to dentist.  It wasn’t that he craved power; he’d had a good amount of that back on Kuat.  It was the chance to lead his pilots into battle, teach them how to survive it, and maybe be better than he’d ever be.  That was what command meant to him.

  That and a private bunk

  He passed Roth in the hall on the way to the mess.  His wing was headed somewhere with purpose, but pulled up as Driver approached. 

  “Morning Sunshine how’d you and the noob sleep?” He inquired to the earnest young man.

  “I slept like a rock, I don’t know about Zark, he didn’t crash till after 01:30.” Roth intoned, a touch of annoyance tingeing his tone.

  “Hmm, wonder why so late, oh well, I’ll ask him if I see him.  What sort of mischief are you up to this fine morning?” he said in a purposely chipper voice.

  The upbeat tone had its desired effect.  Roth’s face contorted into a mask of abject disgust, the kind of look teenagers give their parents when they are asking too many questions.

  He replied, “I’m off to the simms to get in some practice.”

  He moved to pass Gshlecc and was soon on his way.  Driver shouted a parting comment that elicited only an exasperated sigh and a headshake.

  Roth Leber may be a good pilot, but the kid still can’t take a joke

  G vowed to work on that in the future, but right now all he wanted to work on was chow.  Smells from the Mess guided him in like a TIE coming in for a landing.  He grabbed his tray and loaded up with eggs, nerf bacon, toast, flapjacks, juice, and a very large cuppa Kaf.  He looked around the Mess and saw Zarkheim sitting by himself.  He moseyed over to the table and set down his tray.

  "You settling in alright, Roth says you didn’t rack out until 01:30 last night?" Driver asked, sipping the scalding Kaf.

Zark jumped slightly. He turned to G and said, “I’m settling in alright, I was just going over the specs for my fighter and making sure that there aren't any issues."

  "Alright, I'm glad to see you have your head in the game. You know if you have any questions or need anything you can come to me right?" offered Driver as he began to shovel food into his mouth.

"Rodger," Zark nodded. "If you don’t mind, I think I'm going to go. I have to catch up on a few things I didn't get around to last night."

  Atrasin nodded at him and waved.  The chow on board was pretty good, and he was starving.  It was good to see the new kid taking his job seriously; he just hoped he wouldn’t burn out.  In a matter of minutes he’d finished everything on his plate, and poured a second cuppa.  Between the hot shower and the double shot of Kaf, he felt pretty good.  That bounce got a little bigger when he answered the chirp of his data pad.

From: LT2 Denethor, Phoenix Wing XO
To: Nazgul Squadron
Re: A well earned reward

  At the request of your command staff, every member of Nazgul has been promoted.  Job well done, and keep up the good work.

Chief Petty Officer Jegora Fal to Master Chief Petty Officer
Petty Officer 2nd Class Rustichituk to Petty Officer 1st Class
Senior Crewman Gshlecc to Petty Officer 1st Class
Senior Crewman Lamel_Evas to Petty Officer 2nd Class
Leading Crewman Lousy to Senior Crewman
Leading Crewman DanteDevant to Senior Crewman
Leading Crewman Roth to Senior Crewman

  “Whooopity-doo!” hooted Gshlecc.

  He figured his rank would catch up with his position, but he never thought he’d get a double promotion.  He was also happy, because he was seriously tired of being the lowest ranked, oldest Flight Leader in the Navy.  Now, at least, he didn’t have to follow any orders that Rusty gave him.  He continued scanning the list and came to Lams’ name.  He wondered if she knew she’d been promoted, and whether she’d ever be back in the cockpit again.  He wished her well, and hoped that what ever help she was getting would stick.

  He thumbed through his personal messages and found a note from the Calamity’s Air Boss.

From: MCPO Pelle, Chief of Maintenance
To: All Nazgul Pilots
Re: Fighters

  This is to inform you that your fighters have been offloaded and are available for maintenance or other work as you see fit.

  Might as well go see if they put any dings in my baby

  He threw back the final slug of Kaf and headed toward the Maintenance Bay.  As he waked he pulled up the ships’ library and found the Supply Room.  He was lucky in the fact that it was on his way, and he had no particular place to be.  He found the room and showed the Quartermaster the promotion notice.  The QM pulled a couple of new sets of rank insignia for him and switched them out on the spot.  G tucked the other set in his jumpsuit, and continued on to the ‘Equus”.  He thought about how he’d named the ship in hopes of instilling fear and awe in the hearts of his opponents.  Now, several months later, he knew that a paint job wouldn’t do that.  He also mused on the bone white paint job it had.

  What the hells was I thinking

  He arrived to a scene of glorious chaos.  Nazgul ships were everywhere. He could see Trev’s, Rusty’s and Roth’s.  He saw Jeg sitting in his talking to a very attractive young lady.

  You go Jeg

Driver smiled as he found his ship.  The paint job was dirty and made the old horse look like it was on its last legs.  He looked around for a tech and saw the MCPO that he got the message from standing under Rusty’s TIE cursing with gusto.

  “Tell me how in the hell you get fur in the external blaster mounts?”

  Chuckling to himself Driver shouted, “Chief, might I have a word?”

  The mechanic broke away from the fighter and came over to G.

  “What can I do for you son?” he said in an easy tone.  The man carried himself with the easy gait of a man in charge.  His uniform sleeve was covered in lubricant and scorch marks, but Atrasin could make out service hatches for at least 20 years.  In this bay, HE was the man. 

  “How busy is your crew right now?” he inquired.

  The Chief smiled and said, “Not very, you’re the only show in town, and you boys seem to like tinkering with your craft all by your lonesome, ‘cept for the big fella up there.  He’s been jawing with Liz for a while now.”

  Driver noticed that Jeg was indeed still engrossed in some sort of conversation with the young lady he’d seen earlier.

  Turning back to the Chief he said, “Would it be possible to get a new paint job on my TIE?”

  “I don’t see why not. Whatta ya got in mind. “He asked.

  “Nothing fancy, just put her into a basic Interceptor Grey.  Make her look like she just came off the factory floor.  If you could, on her nose paint an old style pin-up of this girl.” Stating as he showed the Chief a holo of Yulia.

  “Uff, she’s yours?  You lucky SOB.  Anything else?” he asked.

  G nodded, “if you please paint the word ‘Stunner” under it in script, that would be great.”

  The Chief nodded and told Gshlecc to come back in about an hour or so, and they’d be done.  He thanked the man again and wandered out.  He spent the better part of the next hour strolling around the Calamity and getting to know her.  It was a good ship, and he could tell the crew took care of her.  He reentered the maintenance shed over an hour later to find his fighter gleaming like it had just been waxed.  He saw the Chief and motioned a question.

  “Hey if she’s gonna be a stunner, she’s gotta look stunning.” He quipped.

  G rolled his eyes and walked around to the nose. There he saw a near perfect holo-like pinup of Yulia looking forward and grinning impishly.

“Chief, you have caught her essence perfectly.  Thank you very much.” He chimed as he pulled out and presented the Chief with a handful of his favorite cigars.
  Taking them from him the noncom intoned, “You know you’re good people for a pilot.”

  Driver smiled and stared at his ship, “Hello sweetie, good to see you again.”

OOC:

1666 words

The first thing Zark did once he got back to the room was to head the the 'fresher and take a shower. He changed into his uniform for the day, sat down on his bunk, and kicked his feet up. He grabbed his datapad and brought up the message from Ali'shrae and started to read.

Hey Zarky-poo! I hope you're doing alright. Your parents told me they haven't heard from you you since you left. He cringed slightly at the use of her personal nickname for him. He was somewhat relieved to hear that she was still in touch with his parents. He continued to read. I'm going to assume they haven't talked to you yet to tell you I left about a month after you did. They're thinking about selling the ship. Zark's heart sank, as much as he disagreed with his parents, he couldn't beliee they were willing to sell their home. After a moment he continued to read Ali'shrae's message. When I left, I really didn't know where to go, I refused to go home, I  ended up signing up to be a stormtrooper. I'm actually in the spaceport waiting for the shuttle while I'm writing this. Maybe we'll see each other again, and maybe we can pick up where we left off, only time will tell. Good luck Zarky, and remember not all you battles can be won with fancy flying and a tricked out fighter. Signed Private Ali'shrae Quillia

Zark threw the datapad across the room, he heard it hit the wall, and watched it fall into Roth's stuff. He stormed out the door, punching the wall on the way out.

I need to blow off some steam, I guess I'll skip lunch and head to the simulators early, he thought to himself.

He stopped and looked around, realizing he was lost. He saw an off duty ship's crewman walking down the hallway towards him.

"Excuse me, can you direct me to the flight simulators please?" Zark asked.

"Um, they're that way, just keep going straight until you see the sign, can't miss it." the crewman replied.

"Thanks," Zark said as he headed on down the pasage. After a few more minutes walking he found the room with the simulators.

"And I thought today was going to be a bad day," he half joked to himself as he entered the room. He noticed someone else in one of simulators, but decided not to bother them. He walked over to one of the empty simulators and started it up. He picked a scenario that he hadn't heard of before, and was unoccupied, he wanted to vent his frustration without bothering anyone else. His only goal right now was familiarzation with the interceptor. The program loaded and the screens and controls sprang to life. Zark had forgotten over the past few weeks how realistic simulators looked. He started off easy running through some basic moves and worked up towards more advanced manuvers. He fiddled with the simulated ships power settings, trying to find the right power setting for engines, weapons and shields. Once he got settled he found his targets, a convoy of six freighter escorted by four corvettes and eight X-wings.

Let's see what this thing can really do, he thought pushing the throttle all the way up, on approch to strafe the rearmost freighter from its 9 o' clock. He strafed the freighter scoring hits on its shields and pulling two of the escorting X-wings to chase him.

He pulled his throttle back to two thirds letting the X-wings catch up to him. He then pushed down and left on the yoke, so he was now flying towards the X-wings. He put his sights on the father back fighter and held down the trigger. He watched as the X-wing's shields sputtered and died. Zark's green bolts scored hits on the fighter's engines, disabling it. The lead X-wing overshot Zark. Before the lead X-wing could turn around, Zark was heading full speed at the freighters again. He prepared his torpedoes and lined up the shot.

Perfect., he thought to himself.

After Liz had joined Jegora in the weight room they had worked out for a little while longer before going to get something to eat. After breakfast the two, who were fast becoming a couple, inspected Liz’s fighter, and Jegora assisted with some basic tune ups and modifications. By 1100 hours the two had been together for six hours. Neither cared, and both were enjoying themselves.

Lunch rolled around and the couple ate together once again. As they were eating lunch Jegora remembered his promise to Zark.

In between mouthfuls of food, Jeg asked, “Liz, do you want to go do some simulations? I have a rookie who wants some practice,” he said, his proposition sounding lame even to him.

Liz chewed thoughtfully. As she did, Jegora had to admire that even while doing something as mundane as eating, she looked unbelievably pretty. After a long moment, she answered his question.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Jegora was stumped. Here was a beautiful woman who could be doing a thousand other things, and she was choosing to go run simulation exercises with Jegora and a rookie. He was in genuine shock.

It must have showed on his face, because she suddenly let out a giggle. Jegora instantly blushed, and she only laughed harder. Standing up in a rush, Jegora grabbed her hand and dragged her away.

“Come on woman, lets go see how good of a pilot you really are,” he said, his voice dark and menacing.

It only made her laugh harder.


**********


A few minutes later Jegora and Liz were strapped into simulators, the cockpits dark. A voice came on over his radio. It sound official, and Jegora thought it was probably a controller.

“What can I do for you today sir?” the voice asked.

Jegora depressed the communicate button and spoke, the mic near his mouth picking up the sound in place of his helmet mics. “I have a pilot in here...last name is Zarkheim. Load us into his sim, hostile,” he said.

On a different frequency he heard Liz let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s mean,” she giggled.

Jegora didn’t laugh. Instead he flipped frequencies and said, “It may be mean, but the rest of the squadron had a whole series of simulations to kill their egos. I plan to do it one session,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and hard.

There was silence over the radio for a few seconds. Liz didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t seen this side of Jegora, the hard side that allowed him to focus 100% on his job and nothing else, including emotions. She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply said nothing. This was fine with Jegora; he was past the point of no return, now, his emotions cut off, his analytical mind taking over, getting ready for the upcoming fight.

The silence continued for a few moments until the controller responded back. “Roger that, sir; Senior Crewman Zarkheim has just began his simulation. Loading you in now,” the male voice said, probably for the last time.

Jegora didn’t respond. Instead he waited for his interior to light up, indicating the simulation was starting. He quickly checked all his major systems as the view screens that simulated the outside world came online. Finally the simulation started, and Jegora immediately scanned his radar.

What he saw surprised him slightly, even through his hard focus. Zark was flying a particularly interesting simulation in which he was strafing a convoy guarded by a good amount of firepower. At the moment he was a ways off, engaging two X-Wings. Jegora thought the difficulty settings must have been set to the lowest possible setting; there was no way Zark had decimated an entire squadron by himself. Kicking his TIE up to full speed, Jegora took off. Glancing back, he saw Liz in a TIE Interceptor as well, still trying to get the hang of it. She seemed to be having no problems, and was a few hundred meters behind Jegora.

With blazing speed Jegora raced towards Zark, the signature Twin Ion Engines giving off a loud and powerful whine. Within thirty seconds, Jegora had closed the gap to almost half the distance it had been previously. He now had a slight visual on the remaining X-Wings, and a small dot signaled the presence of Zark’s ship. Even as Jegora watched Zark somehow avoided fire from a pincer movement and destroyed one of the X-Wings. Jegora gritted his teeth. New pilots had a bad enough ego. One that had been practicing like this would be even worse.

As Jegora neared Zark he flipped his radio to a general frequency and spoke into his mic, his voice hard and cold. “Crewman Zarkheim. Enjoying your simulation?”

Zark didn’t immediately pick up on the threat coming his way. He did realize, however, the difference in Jegora’s voice. “Yes sir, care to-”

The newest Nazgul was cut off by green lasers lancing over his fighter. “Frak!” he shouted. “What was that!?”

Jegora didn’t reply, just soared over the top of Zark’s fighter as he destroyed the last X-Wing. Pulling a large loop the flight leader came around, this time drawing a bead on Zark’s fighter. The newer pilot didn’t know what to do. Throwing his ship into a downward spiral that was easy for Jegora to follow, Zark tried to save himself. It didn’t work. With practiced ease Jegora manipulated his targeting dials, resulting in a lock on the other man’s TIE. When the beep sounded Jegora depressed the trigger, brutally ending the simulation.

Pushing up on the cockpit of the simulator even before it went dark, Jegora sprang out of his simulator and crossed to where Zark was exiting his own cockpit, obviously angry. As Jegora neared the young man turned, his face red with anger and frustration.

“What was that?” he said. “I was doing fine until you-”

“You were playing games,” Jegora said, cutting him off. His voice was ice cold, his steel-colored eyes drilling holes in the younger man’s head. “This isn’t a game. Remember that. Out here, if you die, you don’t exit a simulator. Out here, X-Wings aren’t slow. Out here, one mistake can cost you your life and the life of your wing mates,” he spat out.

Zark was taken aback by the sheer ferocity of Jegora’s words, and his stance. Jegora towered over Zark, and his muscular build made him all that much more intimidating. Jegora opened his mouth to say something else when Liz came running over.

“That’s quite enough,” she said, clearly upset.

Jegora turned his eyes on her, and she took an involuntary step backwards. Her voice remained strong though. “I said that’s quite enough,” she repeated, moving between Zark and Jegora. “He’s learned his lesson.”

Before Jegora could say anything she grabbed Zark’s hand and dragged him away. As they retreated, Jegora spoke to their backs. “Zark: briefing at 1800 hours. Don’t be late.”

Deep down, Jegora realized he made a mistake with the new pilot, and with Liz. On the surface, though, he was as cold and imposing as ever.

OOC:

1186 words