Kane had been flying circles behind a CR90 high above Yetton when his datapad chirped with an urgent message.

Crewman Kane Ahriman: You are to report to the mSSD Atrus immediately for reassignment. This is non-negotiable. Your replacements in Kaph Squadron have been deployed already. Dock aboard the Lobos and meet the shuttle. Signed: Jegora Fal

Kane radioed in the message to C-3PX2, who had already been informed of the situation. There was no other details available, and aboard the Atrus there were limitless possibilities. Kane radioed his farewells to Ph’rranix and the rest of Kaph, then broke off from the CR90 Corvette he was attacking and headed back towards the Lobos.

Aboard the Lobos he was greeted by a pilot already prepared to depart. Kane grabbed his flight bag from behind the seat of his TIE and climbed about the small shuttle craft, preparing to begin another leg of his naval career.

The shuttle craft made the jump to hyperspace and in no time Kane had arrived at the Atrus. Kane had never been aboard the massive Star Destroyer, the flagship of the entire Vast Empire Navy. Looking up the craft, he was awestruck with the amount of respect the mere presence of the Atrus commanded. Kane’s gaze was locked upon the massive destroyer in front of him, and he didn’t immediately register that his datapad was chirping for him again. Not wanting to tear his gaze away from the looming goliath before him, he merely glanced at the datapad.

Kane… meet in hangar Aurek-7… Nazgul Squadron… was all Kane needed to view. Glancing back up as he approached the Executor-class Dreadnought. Executor-class… How appropriate of a name. Kane thought as the shuttle moved closer, bringing the massive scope of the Atrus into full view.

Kane stepped out of the shuttle and looked around, slightly taken aback by the massive amount of room in the hangar. There was probably enough room for at least 24 TIEs alone, not including the engineers, mechanics, security force, and all the other miscellaneous clusters that can be found around at any given moment.

Kane looked at his datapad again, reading the entire message this time. Crewman Kane: Upon arriving at mSSD Atrus, report immediately to hangar Aurek-7 for assignment to Nazgul Squadron and deployment on your first mission. Signed: Jegora Fal

Kane re-read the message many times before asking which direction Aurek-7 was. He offered his thanks to the crewman and began to walk out of the hangar, following the directions he was given. The true scope of the Atrus became apparent to him as he walked down the corridor.

The corridor was wide enough to allow entire regimens of stormtroopers to walk in formation, and this was one of the lesser used auxiliary corridors. Kane’s footfalls didn’t echo here like they normally did on smaller craft, and seeing the breadth of the corridor as well as the many lanes running perpendicular made Kane think the ship more of a city than a spacecraft. In fact, he hadn’t seen something in this grand of a scale since he last walked along the bridges of Cato Neimoidia with his father, a representative of the Galactic Empire stationed there to keep the peace after the acquisition of the planet.

Arriving in Aurek-7, Kane was taken aback once again. Lined up in perfect formation were twelve TIE fighters, and a host of crewmen buzzing around making sure that each was fully equipped. Kane noticed a few others standing around a TIE, seemingly watching someone hang half-out of the craft.

Approaching the group, Kane felt out of place. Standing before him were pilots that had been decorated, and some seemed as if they were out of place standing, instead of sitting behind the controls of their fighter. He glanced at the group, then back towards the TIE. One member of the assembled audience cleared his throat, and a few moments later the person Kane mistook for a mechanic deftly climbed on top of the TIE and addressed the men.

“Alright. I’m Jegora Fal. Call me whatever you want, except sir. This man here is G’shlecc Atrasin, my XO. He’ll be doing most of the work. Now, you were all sent briefings over your datapads. I hope you studied, because there’s no time for a formal briefing. In fact, we ship out right now. Find your fighter, strap in, and follow me.”

Kane had read his datapad on his way to the hangar, and he watched as Jegora climbed into his fighter and immediately left the hangar. Kane wasn’t sure which TIE was his, so he waited until the other assembled members of the squadron boarded theirs before moving to one of the last remaining crafts.

Kane easily got himself situated and quickly brought the craft up to operational. During the warm-up, Kane adjusted the harness carefully, still a bit bruised from the abuse he took only hours before, placed his flight bag behind his seat, and secured his helmet. He would have to paint the kills on later, he didn’t want to seem like a complete rookie with no experience.

Fresh out of the Academy, the controls inside the TIE were similar to the controls inside the simulators. Although the simulators appeared to be newer models, trying to be a hybrid of the various layouts seen among the TIE variations, the slight rattle of the craft as it broke free of the Atrus was familiar. Maybe Kane would have an advantage over the other pilots. He seemed like the newest member to the Navy, which meant the majority of the knowledge he had flying was based off of the limitations to acceleration and maneuverability of the current TIE he was sitting in.

Kane looked around as he flew away from the Atrus, trying once again to view the magnificence of the craft, and hoping this wasn’t going to be the last he’d see if it. He quickly located the pilot named G’shlecc and fell into formation beside him, radioing him once he was situated.

“Nazgul 2-6 to Nazgul 2-5. In formation and awaiting your instructions, sir.”

Mel Krasznius was about to head out against the enemy fleet's CR90 before receiving a similar message to Kane's.

Kaph 8, you are being re-assigned, effective immediately. Please report to the Atrus, Aurek-7. his datapad read.

Kretting fecks; I live to fight another day. He said amusingly. Bacredi saw Mel's ship turn away from the fleet and setting up coordinates.

"Mel, where are you going?" Bacredi asked curiously.

"I've been re-assigned. Take care of the Crimsons while I'm gone."

Without a "goodbye" to anyone, Mel had already set up his ship to head over to the Atrus.

He arrived there after a vast amount of time and was able to see the glimmer of the modified Super Star Destroyer after shaking his head a few times, getting the picture of an empty, black void out of his head.

His COM then told him, "Please state your name."

Mel cleared his throat. "Mel Krasznius, Kaph 8."

"I'm sorry, I could not recognize that."

He rolled his eyes, then glanced at his datapad.

PLEASE ADDRESS YOURSELF AS NAZGUL 10

"Mel Krasznius, Nazgul 10."

"Welcome," then, in his own voice, "Mel Krasznius."

He arrived at the dock in a drowsy state, his legs wobbling as he moved, and his eyes were red like laserfire. his dyed hair had taken a more organic shape rather than the organized look he usually dressed himself as.

"...whatever you want, except sir. This man here is G’shlecc Atrasin, my XO. He’ll be doing most of the work." Mel heard in the distance.

I suppose I'm a bit late for the briefing. Not like it has any importance since they'll send it to my datapad anyways.

Almost as if his thoughts were planned by circumstance, his datapad was chirping.

Whaddaya know...A summary of the mission.

Mel skimmed over the datapad's instruction. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

Great. Back into space.

Mel wasn't normally in such a bad mood, but a few hours of space flight without any action can do that. He needed the adrenaline. Then he noticed that he won't be in his TIE Interceptor anymore. It was back to TIE fighters for him.

He continued to trudge across the metallic terrain, eventually reaching a few pilots.

"I assume you gentlemen are headed to," He looked back at the datapad, "the Visgoth?"

"Yeah. You coming?"

"Of course." Mel said, waking up from his drowsy, irritable mood. If there was one thing he felt that he needed, it was a group of friends to entertain him for a while. But he knew he had to get back to socializing with droids. They were more like him. A bit cold, built on logic, and could break down at anytime. After all, he was 59.

A fleet of TIE Fighters had set themselves before his eyes, and he went to his assigned one, dropping his datapad into his pocket and continuing towards his new home.

OOC:

486 words.

After spending a few days in sickbay he immediately found himself on a slightly enhanced TIE-Fighter towards Visgoth, the Border Patrol ship where his Squadron was now also heading to, he found himself one of the last ones to touch down and get out.
Opening the hatch he could see some of his Squadron mates that filled him with joy. When getting out of it, he got dizzy in mid jumping out and falls down, hitting the ground badly. Pulling himself up from the ground he smiled like a total buffoon, scratched his head and waved at the other pilots. He went towards Jegora with a wide smile on his face and stopped before him, slapped the heels of his boots together, straightened his back and greeted him to military protocols.

"Leading Crewman Girias Bomban Reporting back to duty, Sir. Oh, and sorry for the Bacta breath. After the explosion I had several severe burn wounds and a metal rod that stuck through my left shoulder."

Laughing, Jegora let him at ease but told him to stay in sight. Walking around the engineering bay, he felt at ease though he missed the woman who rejected him whom he had met in the last engineering bay. Walking around looking at the flying deathboxes the TIE-Fighters though they've been slightly enhanced. He went back to the TIE-Fighter that was asigned to him. He looked at it, kind of disappointed that it doesn't look as badass or as strong as his TIE-Interceptor, but atleast it has been enhanced. He climbed a bit bumpy into the cockpit and, when sitting down decently in the seat, he took a good look at everything. Laughing at how several things have been rerouted for no reason except powerloss he starts gently removing wires from everywhere and connected them with just one distributor, instead of 20. This gave the TIE-Fighter a bit of an increase in Shields, Engines and the power of the Laser Cannons. Smiling, he crawled out of the cockpit without falling this time and wiped some sweat off of his forehead. When he was taking a breather, one of the engineering crew threw him a new helmet since the last one was rendered beyond repairs. He immediately tossed it into the cockpit and stepped away from his TIE-Fighter.Then, all of a sudden, he saw a man just a bit older than him with silvery hair. He stepped forward when he saw the Nazgul Emblems and extended his hand towards the man. When he got closer he noticed that he has two different colour of eyes.

"Hiya Sir, I'm sure I haven't seen someone like you in Nazgul before. The name's Bomban, Girias Bomban, though everyone just calls me Lousy. So, now I gave you my name, mind if I have yours ? Oh, and if it doesn't bother you, how did you get your eyes to be two different colours? Coloured lenses? They look really cool ..."

Kane didn’t mean to be rude to Lousy upon the deck of the Atrus, but there simply wasn’t time to answer the man’s questions before Jegora had ordered them to move. So once he was situated in the room, he walked over to him and extended his hand.

“I am Senior Crewman Kane Ahriman. As for my eyes, they’re heterochromatic. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time on Cato Neimoidia and one of the vapor valves burst, the chemicals attaching themselves to the pigmentation in my iris and destroying it. But rest assured, my vision is fully functional.”

Kane turned back towards the window and couldn’t wait any longer in this “cell”. He turned to the door and opened it, only getting one foot out before his datapad chirped. Mel’s went off almost at the same time, and Kane simply glanced at the man before picking up his pad and reading the message. It was from G’shlecc.

Nazgul. Rest up. In a few short days we will begin our objective out here. Until then, get some rest. Any interested in getting a drink, meet me on C-Deck. Signed: Driver

Kane looked at Lousy and smirked just a bit. “I’m not sure about you, mate. But I could use a drink.” With that, Kane reached into his flight bag and pulled out his chip card, then stuffed it into his pocket, leaving the pad behind. Anything he would need to know would be told to him by his wingman upon arriving at the bar.

Kane entered the lift, waiting in what felt like a torpedo tube until it opened, revealing what could only be described as a recreational deck. Down at one end there was a gym, which Kane made a mental note of, and on the other end there was the mess hall and what looked like a few bars. Kane walked that way, looking for G, and spotting the man leaning against the wall, talking to a young female pilot who he seemed to be rather familiar with.

Kane smirked as he passed G, giving him a nod in greeting before ordering an ale and settling down at the other end of the bar. He wasn’t about to interfere with G trying to better utilize his rec time, but he wanted to be close enough in case there was a crash and burn. Kane turned to observe the other patrons of the bar. Most were off-duty crewmen, and a few officers sprinkled in looked like they were here simply because they were bored.

A few glanced at Kane, taking in the sight of a young man with silvery-gray hair and one gray eye. Kane turned back around, facing the back wall of the bar, not wanting to cause trouble. But in the short time Kane was looking around, he noticed the crewman he lambasted earlier talking with some other pilots from another squadron. There was some mumbling and he managed to pick out a few words, one of which being “blind”.

Kane lowered his head a bit and sighed, already able to tell what was going to happen next. Two of the pilots moved next to Kane, one on his left and one on his right. A third came up behind him and pulled him around so that Kane’s back was now against the bar. Kane stared into the eyes of the pilot who spun him around, the look an icy one. The pilot was taken aback by the gray eye, and Kane knew he already had the upper hand. He looked past the pilot to the crewman and smirked.

“Hey, Cyclops. You’re not welcome here. This bar is for real pilots, not some flyboy’s baggage handler.” The pilot spat at Kane.

Kane lifted the back of his hand and wiped the spittle away from his cheek, then looked at the unwanted wingmen he just took on. He looked back at the leader and shook his head. “I suggest you stand down before you get knocked down.” With that, Kane turned back to the bar and grabbed his ale, glancing down the bar to see if G had taken notice of the situation. Kane didn’t need the help, but he wanted a witness of his own squad in case someone got sent to sickbay.

G noticed, and instead of stepping over to break up the pissing contest, he simply ordered an ale and watched. Kane could of sworn he saw G wink at him. Of course, since G was known on this ship, a single word from him would have sent the pack scurrying back into their holes, but with almost a week of nothing to do, it seemed appropriate that the new guy should make a name for himself. Kane nodded and drew from his own ale again before the pilot spun him around a second time.

“I said get out of here!” the pilot roared at him, obviously having imbibed a few too many. Kane looked at the two wingmen who were grinning like village idiots at the prospect of showing one of the new arrivals what being on the fringes meant. Kane wasn’t in his flight suit, the pilots couldn’t see he wasn’t one of them, but that meant nothing.

Kane quickly thought of his situation. Three drunken flyboys against one sober and bored pilot. Kane sat back on his stool, positioning himself so that his feet were together but slightly to the right of center on the stool. The wingman to Kane’s left was grinning, thinking he had the advantage of being in his blind spot. Another moron making a mistake. Kane looked at the leader and spoke calmly to him.

“I suggest you rethink what you’re doing. This won’t end well for you, and when I’m finished with the three of you, I’ll drag your limp bodies back before the captain of this ship and let him see what happens when his lackeys mess with a Nazgul. Now sod off.” Kane glared at him, waiting for the reaction. As expected, it didn’t go over very well.

Kane noticed the man on his left reaching for the ale that Kane had wanted to enjoy. Maybe he was thirsty and didn’t care who’s drink he was going to take, but when he saw the mug raised up in a blatantly hostile position, Kane clenched his right hand into a tight fist and spun 90 degrees to his left, throwing a haymaker at the pilot while at the same time kicking out his feet, driving the stool that was on his right into the other waiting pilot.

The punch connected right below the cheekbone of the first pilot while the stool connected with a very, very sensitive place on the second. Kane now stood and glared down the third pilot, the leader who started this mess, waiting for him to make a move. Kane wasn’t concerned with the other two. One was on the floor clutching his crotch, and the other wasn’t knocked out by the punch but he was dazed and not ready to make another move, realizing that Kane’s left eye was perfectly functional.

Kane had certainly gotten the attention of most of the other patrons, who seemed in no hurry to run to anyone’s aid. “Now… If you’re still feeling froggy, jump” Kane challenged the leader as he clenched both fists, wondering if this was going to become even more entertaining.

“’Scuse me Thria, gotta go put out a fire, “sighed G as he put down his drink.

  Atrasin strode across the bar and into the middle of the fray.  Being one of the most senior ranked men in the room, and bar far the oldest, gave G all the authority he needed.

  “Aten-hut!!”

  Groggily, the drunken, battered, agitated crewman snapped to.  Kane and Lousy stood side by side looking rather pleased with themselves, while the thee Visigoth men looked like eight klicks of bad road.

Ignoring the Nazguls Driver turned to the wounded.

  “Damnit, Dryran, why do you always have to be in the middle of this kinda stuff,” asked G in an exasperated tone.

  The humbled man looked up and winced as he cradled his still aching privates, “You know me Driver, I love makin’ new friends.”

  G’shlecc helped the man up on a barstool, and turned to the more wounded of the three. 

  “Fain, how’s your nose?”

  “I tink e brote it,” he mumbled as he clutched his face.

  G pulled his hands away and observed the proboscis making a rather unnatural left turn.  Driver reached out and quickly reset the damaged appendage.  Fain howled and reached for his face again, only to have his hands slapped away by G.

  “Leave it be and it’ll be ok, play with it and you look like a Chevin.”

  Next he turned to Sosiri, the man Kane had clocked with the haymaker.  He’d regained his composure, and had a somewhat murderous look in his eye.

  “Stand down, Sosiri.  That’ll teach you to underestimate your opponent. “

  He turned to the three Visigoth men, now clumped together, and the roomful of agitated locals.  The crowd looked like they wanted Kane and Lousy’s blood, and G didn’t blame them.

  In a voice loud enough for all to here G announced, “OK, settle down.  Kane defended himself from an unprovoked attack from Dryran, Fain, and Sosiri.  He didn’t press the attack and let it be.  I’m sure you all agree he did the right and honorable thing.”

  The crowd murmured their begrudging agreement. G turned and looked to a somewhat smirking Kane.

  “That being said, I’m quite sure SCRW Kane would be more than happy to buy a round of drinks for the house to show theirs no hard feelings.”

  Kane’s smirk evaporated as a gruff cheer went up from the group, G’s look let him know that he would do this and like it. 

  “Now, SCRW Lousy’s attack on Fain was somewhat unprovoked.  Fain had done nothing to him, but how many of you would rush to the aid of a squadron mate in a jam?”

  The crowd once again agreed none too happily.

  “Now I’m QUITE sure that SCRW Lousy would also be HAPPY to buy a second round for the house and allow Fain a return shot as a way of ‘evening’ the score.”

  Lousy began to object when G leaned in close.

“It’s either this or I let them throw what’s left of you in the brig.”

  Lousy quickly looked over G’s shoulder at the seething crowd and nodded. 

  “Good, now Fain you got one return shot, make it good. You can’t hit him in the eyes he’s gotta fly tomorrow.”

  Fain began to protest, but Driver’s look cut it off.  The Visigoth crewman walked over to Lousy, now steeled for the blow, and looked him over.  He feinted with his left and caught Lousy with a solid right to the jaw.  Lousy dropped to the bar floor amid howls and cheers from the crowd.  Fain was mobbed with well wishers and received like a hero.  His basking was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by G, who motioned toward Lousy.  Fain understood, and reached out to help Girias off the floor.

  “No har feelgins,” he asked, hand extended?

  Girias rubbed his throbbing jaw, and took his hand, “No hard feelings.”

“Good,” announced G, slapping the men on the back, “Where’s our drinks?  Kane?”

  Kane sagged and turned his Cred chip over to the barkeep, whose assistants were now doling out the beverages.  Driver caught two and headed back to Thria.

  “Look at it this way, now instead of being known as the ‘one-eyed guy who beat the hell out of two poor Visi’s’, you’re known as the ‘one-eyed guy who bought his enemies a round’.  Make nice, it’ll pay off,” whispered Driver as he passed Kane.

  G snaked his way back to Thria who was still sitting where he left her.  Her drink almost gone, he replaced it with one of Kane’s freebies. 

  “So, where were we?”

  “You were telling me how nice it was to be back home in Nazgul,” she stated dryly.

  “Oh yeah, it is nice.  Different, but nice.  That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my time here. It’s just that Nazgul is the cutting edge and I like to be where the action is.”

  He noticed his former wingman’s sag and slightly sorrowful look, “Don’t worry Thria, you’ll be up here someday.  You’ve got all the skills for it, cept one – confidence.  You need to start believing in yourself as much as I believed in you.”

  Thria paused and cocked her head at G, “YOU believed in me?”

  Driver chuckled as he took a long drag on his drink, “Of course I did, why you think I CHOSE you to be my wing.  You’ve got the talent to be a top pilot; you just need to start believing it.”

  He watched as she drew herself up a little more, a smile crossed her face as she took a drink.  He looked across the bar at Kane and Lousy, now mobbed by smiles and good natured backslaps.  The whole of the bar was in a much better mood.

  Well, free drinks’ll do that to a place

  He quickly drained his pint and placed the empty on the table.  Thria placed her ‘dead soldier’ next to his and grinned.  It was one of the few times G’d ever seen her smile.  He found Lousy near the end of the bar.

  “Hey Lousy, where’s my drink,” he shouted!

  Girias looked, nodded and a beverage was soon on its way.

  Yep, free drinks’ll do that

OOC:

No more fights, unless you too want to buy the house a round.  We are here to fight pirates, not each other.  My mothering speech is over, return to your fun.

Kane finished his business in the bar and left, wishing G’shlecc hadn’t interfered and let the fight run it’s course. Of course, Lousy had to step into the fray as well, which wasn’t necessary. Kane had his fair share of fights under his belt, and he knew how to handle himself when he was outnumbered.

He collected his chip from the bartender and passed G on the way out, nodding to him again as he was still conversing with the pilot. Kane looked towards the gym, but decided to head back to the room to check his datapad. He wanted to see if his message to home had been received, and if there was anything new to be known about out here. Surprisingly absent from the bar was their commander, and that didn’t sit well with Kane.

He stepped back into his room and picked up his pad, seeing a new message on the screen. It wasn’t from home, it was from Jegora, addressing the Nazgul.

Nazgul. We have been ordered to assist the Visigoth in repelling a surge in pirate activity here in the Fringes. Activity has been increasing, and we are to prepare for the assault upon the pirates within the next week. Be prepared to board your fighters at any moment. Our plan is to bait the pirates, but if we arrive and they are here, we will engage immediately. Our intelligence on the situation reports at least four squadrons of fighters, at least one Nebulon-B frigate, and an Acclamator frigate as well. Signed: Jegoral Fal

Kane looked over the briefing once again and shook his head. He penned a quick note to his wingman letting him know where he could be found.

G: Headed to the sims to find out about these ships. Don’t wait up. Kane

Kane walked back out of his room, pocketing his datapad as he went, then looking for the simulators. On a ship like this, they couldn’t be far. But of course, nothing was too far from anything else on this ship, and after a bit of roaming around he found them. Kane loaded a custom scenario to include a worst-case scenario of what they were going to be facing. He loaded up two Neb-B class frigates, an Acclamator, and four squadrons of various pirate and rebel fighters. He also entered in a squadron of Imperial Navy TIE Interceptor class fighters.

Kane used the TIE/Ins because they were more maneuverable than the standard TIEs, and this wasn’t so much a training session as it was a learning experiment. Kane wanted to see how well the enemy fleet could maneuver against a superior Imperial force, and even though regular TIEs would be superior, he wanted to see the pirates’ best. Kane still programmed himself using the TIE he flew over here. No sense getting used to a ship he wasn’t flying.

Kane climbed into the simulator and strapped himself in, closing the door and waiting for the program to load. The lights in the simulator dimmed down to complete black, and soon the console before him came to life. The panoramic screen mimicked that of Kane’s TIE, complete with crossbars adding blind spots to the view port and the edges of his wings being seen on the sides.

Kane scanned his radar and noticed the pirate squadrons and frigates. Kane checked his status, confirming that he was a spectator only. Kane would be unable to shoot at the pirates in the sim, and they’d also be unable to shoot at him. It would be as if he didn’t exist to the programming, and that was fine for him.

Kane pushed the accelerator down and felt the jerk of the machine as it tried to mimic the grace of the TIE. He smirked a bit, still preferring the real thing over the sim. He navigated towards the gathering and soon found the assembled forces. Kane first noticed the Acclamator, then the two Nebs. These were fairly large ships, and it would be interesting to see how they’d handle the single squadron of Imperial Navy fighters headed this way.

Kane moved closer to the Acclamator, flying dangerously close to the ship. If this was a true battle, or even a real simulator, Kane would have been toast hundreds of meters ago. Kane flew over, around, and underneath the Acclamator, counting the weapons as he saw them. He shook his head, seeing the laser cannons and heavy turrets. There were no glaring weak points in the starship, which didn’t give Kane much hope. At least the CR90s he had flew against with Kaph couldn’t shoot behind themselves.

He then moved to the Neb frigates, wanting to see if they had similar fire power. While not as heavily armed as the Acclamator, Kane still saw more then enough turrets and cannons on the ships to give his mates a hard time. However, the bright spot was that due to the distinct shape of the ship, the middle looked like a twig ready to be snapped.

As Kane continued his circuits, he noticed a few odd-looking appendages on the ship. Kane brought up the control panel for the simulation, enhancing the view of the appendages. Still unable to determine what they were, he highlighted them for the computer to identify. Kane was not very happy when it was revealed that one variation of the Neb-Bs was equipped with tractor beams.

Kane restarted the simulation and flew away from the ships and what would become the battlefield, finding a nice perch to watch the ships interact. His attention was half on the large frigates, wanting to see the accuracy of those weapons, and the other half was on the mix and match fighters the pirates brought to the table. Kane chuckled a bit when he saw a few X-Wing class fighters in there.

What the hell he thought. I told the sim to give me pirates and rebels. It gave me pirates and rebels. Kane laughed a bit, watching the show and taking mental notes, even pulling out his datapad to scribe a few when the situation seemed appropriate.

The battle raged on, and Kane lost all track of time in the simulator. He had devoted his entire attention to the scenes playing out before him, and the different scenarios that could happen to him made him all the more engaged. While he knew it was going to be nothing like this when it was him versus these ships, it was still valuable to see what could happen. He was going to go up against pilots able to think on the fly, not some ingenuous droid army programmed for maneuvers.

Kane wanted to learn all he could, and share that knowledge with G and the others.

At this time, Mel had found his equipment throughout his side of the room: A few notebooks, an Aviator's Manual, a pencil, and his clothes.

He had snaked his hand through the stack of notebooks and took one out that looked particularly organized compared to the others, which had loose paper angled throughout them.

With a pencil, he began titling the first page. War and Human Preternity He shifted to the next line and wrote smaller, as if his next words made a subtitle. The Place of Kraszniust Philosophy and Violence.

He began scribing a paper which, with each word more formal than the last, seemed like an essay or a textbook.

Kraszniust Philosophy states that as humans, our Preternity is to make ourselves superior throughout the shortcomings we are born with...

He could not finish the next sentence; the metal door which led to the room had opened, and a pilot stumbled in. Quickly, Mel slipped his notebook under his sheet along with his pencil, but his attempts were not enough.

Fecks.

A drunk pilot tripped over himself and into the bed next to Mel's.

"Y-you know, y'almost killed me today!" The pilot said.
"Almost? I believe you were dead for around two seconds."
"How you figure that?"
"You had no pulse until I dropped with you one hand."

The pilot rolled over, trying to sleep with his casual clothes on. Mel had brought an azure robe from Eriadu; it was almost fit for a noble. The pilot looked as if he was asleep, yet the light on Mel's headboard was still on. He continued to write.

This superiority travelled from the seeds of the nomadic tribesmen to the ancient man separated by government, and finally to ourselves...

A cough from the bed on the other side of the room, then a snort.

We have survived by acting on our Preterni-...

"What you doing? I-is that paper? Shouldn't you be usin' a blank datapad or somethin'? That stuff is old!" The pilot commented.

"What I act upon is none of your concern. I prefer paper and pencil to electronic media. I grew up with paper and pencils."

"Must be hard to find."

"Not on Eriadu. Archive buildings supply them to those to ask. Important information is stored manually for security purposes. Just in case someone wishes to tamper with information and delete something important."

The drunk pilot had already fallen asleep. Mel shrugged and continued writing.

-ty. However, this is not to say that the politicians of the Galaxy have...

Kretting fecks! Not again.

The metal door opened, and Mel saw a shining figure walk before him.

In a metallic voice, he heard, "Sir, you are being re-assigned to a different area by request."

"Whose request, if I may ask?"

"Your superior. He mentioned that you and this gentleman here are not on good enough terms for this environment to be peaceful."

Thank you, G.

"Very well, I shall gather my things and be on my way."

"You will be given a room by yourself with a desk on 2405."

"Why such an upgrade?" Mel asked curiously.

"It seems that Impericare's Housing branch has insured you enough for you to be able to afford the upgrade."

Hah! I knew those extra expenses would be worth it.

"Shall I take your equipment, sir?"

Mel nodded and dismissed the droid. It seemed the night kept getting better by the minute, and his scar began to vanish a bit.

OOC:

Word Count: 577

After his late night session of a great quantity of beers together with Jake, one of the gunners from the Visigoth, he had returned to his quarters to get some shuteye in before he may possibly commence with the mission they were given. Although it were only a few hours, he spent his hours of shuteye in a very fun way. He dreamed about being surrounded by several women wearing very little and a rather huge waterfall collapsing in a river of beer. Waking up, he noticed that he had his arms around his pillow and had found his lips kissing it. A few moments of awkwardness and hoping that Kane, his roommate, hadn't noticed he threw the pillow back on his bed and stepped in the refresher. A quick shower, a shave and some yawning later he found himself in front of the mirror looking like a the perfect private. Putting on the pilot suit he sat back on his bed and yawned a bit more and almost fell asleep again if it wasn't for the grumbling noise his stomach made. He waved at Kane and invited him for breakfast, but the serious Kane was nose deep in some holograms and mumbled some words Girias could barely understand.

"Ah, come on Silvery, you can't study All the time?"

"No, but I'm trying to, now shush. You're breaking my concentration."

Pulling up his shoulders, he let out a sigh and walked outside and headed in the elevator. A small elevator ride later, which still upsets his stomach, and he finds himself on the mess deck. He stumbled inside and smelled the odour the food was making. He walked to the counter, grabbed a platter and a plate and filled it to the brim with food. Or atleast that was what he hoped he was going to eat. He sat down on the nearest table, empty by coincidence and started eating. Although it wasn't exactly 4 star cooking, it was edible and killing pirates has always been easier when you're not being distracted by your own stomach. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice yelling from at the counter.

"Hiya Lousy, I've finished my shift. Mind if I sit there, I hate sitting alone and most people I know are now sleeping."

He waved at Jake and signaled him to come over to have a seat, although speaking was out of oder since his mouth was completely filled with some goo that should resemble meat. The two had immediately started speaking, even in between mouthfuls, and shared some more stories and talked a lot more. When all of a sudden Girias got a Comm Message he was scared by the buzzing noise that he jumped up and hit the table with his knee. Cursing, he took out the CommLink and looked at the message. It had surprised him, it was Marianne from last mission.

Dear Girias, I'm writing to you since I've heard from the medical officers that you were, in fact, not dead. Just heavily damaged.
I ... I don't know what to say. I was so scared when I heard about the explosion. My first thought was that I couldn't work on those TIE-Interceptors anymore but then I remembered that you were in one of those. I cried. I cried for all the time that you were in the MedBay without me knowing ...

I really don't like to see you get hurt. But, I'd better shut up now, I'm writing on my lunch break and you probably got another suicide mission to go on. So ... Take care of yourself and come visit me again, the greasemonkey.

Signed, Marianne.

He smiled after reading but he knew he couldn't respond just yet, it wouldn't be fair to her if he answered that he'd be coming back and then get shot and die on the mission. He just smiled again and put the CommLink away again, sighing a bit out of the good mood the message had gotten him into.

"So ... Good news from your girl, Lousy? Don't even speak about it, I know those kind of things are private and I won't prie, just curious."

Girias could do no more than smile at Jake, the good friend he made after breaking the nose of a pilot and continued eating, with his right hand on the CommLink, almost caressing the message.

Senior Crewman Kane Ahriman: Congratulations on your promotion to Petty Officer Second Class, and your reassignment as Flight Leader of Nazgul Flight 3, effective immediately. Signed: 2LT Jegora Fal

Kane looked from Jegora to G’shlecc and back to Jegora, then tried to hand the letter back to Jeg.

“This can’t be right.” Kane was stumped. He had been in the Navy for less than a week, and he was already moving up the ranks. There had to have been some mistake. There were no tests Kane had taken, no pop quizzes, no improvisational oral exams. The only thing of notice that had happened was the fight in the bar, and if that was the basis for promotions in Nazgul, then Kane figured he’d have to get into a few more.

G stood up and shook Kane’s hand. Kane returned the shake, then saluted the senior members of the staff before taking his leave. He looked at the letter again and smiled a bit, moving to his room to change for the briefing.

Kane’s datapad was stuck on stupid when he entered the room, and for a moment he thought Lousy had somehow snuck in and managed to not only unlock the pad but to also mess with it somehow. Lousy was a good enough guy, even for sucker-punching a drunken pilot.

Kane glanced at the datapad and shook his head again before stepping into the refresher. In a short while he stepped out, and from looking at him you couldn’t tell he spent most of the night in a simulator and then reading specifications from a drowsy engineer who was slightly perturbed that Kane had roused him from his nap in the hangar.

In his flight suit, complete with the new insignia marking his promotion, and made his way to the briefing room. Kane checked his chrono, and seeing that he had approximately fifteen minutes until the briefing, he began to prepare the information to disperse to the squadron. Loading up as much as he could about the mission ahead onto the holodisc, he inserted it into the table and nodded as their position in the Fringes appeared. Kane left it as it was and waited for the parties to assemble.

Kane wasn’t sure if he was going to be giving the briefing all by himself, so he remained at the head of the table as he watched the members of the squadrons file in. Mel was one of the first, nodding in greeting to Kane as he took a seat, and then Lousy came in next. Lousy smirked at his roommate, walking up to him and clasping him on the shoulder before sitting down near Mel.

G’shlecc came in next, and Kane saluted him. This caused G to smirk as he returned the salute before seating himself towards the back of the room, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed content to watch Kane, and Kane simply returned the smile.

That wookie booger is here to watch me crash and burn. Bastard.

Jegora was one of the last few to enter the room, and Kane once again saluted the commanding officer of his squadron. Jeg returned the salute and found a seat next to G, getting nice and comfortable to watch the show.

Great. Another spectator to my demise. Well, I’m not going to give them what they want.

At exactly 16:00 Kane cleared his throat and addressed the assembled pilots, including those who he had brawled with the other night. They were smirking and pointing at him until he began to speak.

“Good afternoon Nazgul, Raptor and Typhoon Squadrons. I am Kane Ahriman of Nazgul, and I have information to give you concerning the condition we are facing.

“As you can tell, we have dropped out of hyperspace. We are here because there have been reports of increased pirate activity in the area.” Kane pointed to the map on the holo, enlarging it to show their current location. Pressing a button on the table caused red dots to appear in a scattering, and a single blue dot.

“The blue dot represents our current position. The red dots are known strikes by the band of pirates. We are here to lend a hand in stopping the pirates from further actions against the Fringes and the Vast Empire. Here is what we know so far.

“In four days time, we will be joined by two Carrack-cruisers. The Visigoth as well as these two additional ships are charged with combating the pirates’ capital ship fleet, consisting of at least two Nebulon-B class frigates. There are also reports that this particular band of pirates also possesses an Acclamator, however this has not been confirmed.

“The pirate numbers have been estimated to be at least three full squadrons worth, if not more. As you can tell by the pilots we have assembled here, we are slightly outnumbered. I know that doesn’t bother Nazgul, but I cannot speak for Typhoon or Raptor.”

Kane looked to G and smirked, noticing G’s grin grew even wider at the mention of Nazgul not being bothered by being outnumbered.

“We are expecting the pirates to have Headhunters, Y-Wings, and possibly even Scyks at their disposal.” Kane brought up images of each fighter on the holo so the assembled crews could make notes of what they were up against.

“These pirates are skilled, and these ships are old but light and maneuverable. These pirates have been at this for months, so expect them to be able to see through simple tricks. They are however still pirates, and they are prone to thinking in the moment rather than calculating their attacks.

“We are not to engage any of the pirate capital ships. We are to engage the pirate fighters only if they attack the Visigoth or the other Carracks once they arrive. We are in a defensive position here, not offensive. We will allow the pirates to make the first move, and when they do we will ensure it is their last.”

Kane looked around the room, letting each of the assembled pilots digest the information he had given them. Kane then decided to kick up the briefing a notch, changing the holo to display one of the Neb-B frigates.

“Pilots, this is one of the Neb-Bs that we were informed that the pirates have. I show you this simply to warn you…” Kane pressed a button and a series of green dots lined the frigate. “These green dots are the Neb-Bs laser turrets. They are everywhere, and they are accurate. If you wish to make it home, I highly suggest you steer clear of these. I am anticipating that they will train the turrets on the Visigoth upon sight, however we cannot rule out an overzealous gunner wanting to add a few Imperial TIEs to his kill count.”

Kane allowed himself a moment of pride at his late-night studies, seeing that some of the newer pilots hadn’t expected such an odd-shaped frigate to have the firepower it did. Now Kane decided to pull out the big guns, both figuratively and literally speaking. With another press of a button, the image wavered and displayed the spearhead-shaped Acclamator-class frigate. Green dots lined the image, double what was on the Neb-Bs.

“This is the Acclamator that we believe the pirates to have. Again, this information is not confirmed, but if we do not prepare for it, we will be taken by surprise if it makes an appearance. Note the positions of the turrets. Against a TIE, this ship is practically invincible. Now you understand why our orders are to engage the pirate fighters as a defensive force only.”

Kane looked towards G and Jeg. Since neither of them had stepped up to speak, Kane assumed he was doing fine and decided to wrap up the briefing.

“I will personally forward the gathered information to your datapads. If there are no questions, we will conclude this briefing. Remember pilots… We are currently in a hot-zone. We must be ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Make sure your fighters are as you want them, and you have your preparations made. Unless Second Lieutenant Jegora Fal or Senior Chief Petty Officer G’shlecc Atrasin have anything to add, you are dismissed.”

Kane shut off the holos on the table and collected his disc, watching as the members of the assembled squadrons depart. Kane had noticed a few of the pilots he had encountered the other night had been good little school boys during the briefing, and one even seemed impressed with the information presented. Kane assumed they were just as eager to get to work as he was, and he didn’t want to raise any hackles by announcing his promotion at the briefing. Kane wasn’t one to flaunt his rank unless the situation called for it, and in a briefing it really wasn’t necessary. He simply mentioned Jeg’s and G’s ranks to let the pilots know that there were commanders here.

Kane saw Mel and walked to his side, stepping slightly in front of him. “Mel, can I have a word with you?”

Mel looked at him suspiciously and nodded once.

“I’ll make this quick, as I’m sure you have preparations to make. I have been assigned Flight Leader of Flight 3, and I want you as my wingman.” Kane extended his hand to Mel, not sure if he’d have to tell him it was an order more than a request, and after the stories of the pilot that nearly got choked to death by Mel, Kane wasn't sure he really wanted to tell him it was an order.

There was a moment’s pause before Mel grasped Kane’s hand and nodded, then walked out of the room.

A man of few words. I like that.

Kane looked over at Jeg and G, noticing G still wore that grin from ear-to-ear, and his arms were still crossed over his chest. Kane glanced down at his flight suit, thinking for a moment he had given the entire briefing with his fly down from the expression on the XO’s face. Seeing everything zipped and buttoned as needed, he walked over to the pair of commanders and stood at-ease before them, awaiting their critique.

OOC:

Here's the deal... At least 3 full squadrons of pirates against 20-ish Navy. Carracks are coming, but not here yet. Pirates have toys they know how to use. Remember... Do not engage the capital ships. Leave that for the Visigoth and the Carracks. They need some fun too.