Trevor was dodging red tracers from the X-wing behind him, hands nimbly working the controls to and fro. He didn’t have a plan yet, and it seemed as if most of his AI squadron mates had disappeared. Before he could get any farther in the sim though, the machine shut down and was followed by an annoyingly loud alarm and message to get active.

“Attention all pilots! Pirates have appeared in Sector 221. Report to your craft immediately and prepare for further orders!”

Trevor slumped back into his seat and sighed before pushing the door to the sim open and heading out the door. In the hallway, groups of crewmen were running about, getting to the stations that needed them the most. Picking his pace up to a jog, Trevor found his way to his quarters and got dressed in his flight suit, grabbing his helmet and emergency supply bag on his way out the door. Like the majority of pilots who had been downed once or more, he took the idea of an emergency supply container more seriously then those who had yet to meet the ground in a harsh way. The medical kits, rations, and weapon were some of the most important things he could have with him, although their effectiveness in space was a fair bit lower than in atmospheric combat.

His suit, although battered in most areas, had been freshly altered before he returned to duty. It was clean, a first, since normally the suit had some sort of oil or grease stain on it from some last minute repair or adjustment. His helmet was scratched and tarnished; the once shiny alloy had since become dull and exposed to the elements. It was still airtight though, so he hadn’t yet been forced to replace it. Trevor was quite happy with this, as the helmet’s various etchings and markings served as reminders of times once past.

It didn’t take him long to make his way to the hanger, where he found himself one of the late arrivals. Most of the other pilots were just wrapping up their pre-flight checks, if not already done and waiting to go. Wasting no time, Trevor tossed his bag up into the fighter and with well practiced movements clambered into the cockpit. Skipping the exterior check, a risk he had carefully evaluated, he quickly fired up the main systems and did an internal diagnostic, allowing the TIE to quickly check through it’s own systems. Having only been flown a few days before Trevor didn’t expect any errors, and was pleased when none showed up. It had happened on more then one occasion that a tech had adjusted something and forgotten to plug a wire back in or another small mistake, one that could take hours to find and correct. That or the pilot could opt to fly with the problem, depending on how big it was. Having a single cannon off line was not too big of a deal for the majority of pilots, but having an entire weapons system down would have been a different story completely.

Trevor was just finishing putting his harness on as they were given clearance to leave the hanger. He squeezed his helmet between his knees as he maneuvered the craft out alongside Flight 2 and took his place at the end of the formation. A second later he jammed his head into the helmet in time to here ‘roll call’ and heard Flight One begin to ramble off the regular stuff.

When his turn came along he mumbled something about being ready to go, more worried about double checking his diagnostic and packing his emergency bag under the seat, a feat that was made all the more complicated when he couldn’t lean forward due to the restraint system.

So far no one had spoken aside from the roll call and a bit of babble on the squadron channel between the rookie pilots about being excited or nervous. Trevor was a little surprised to find himself to be the one to speak.

“This is Eight. What are we looking at, One?” He asked, adjusting his course a little to keep in formation with the rest of Flight Two.

“A squadron of Preybirds. I doubt that’s all there is though, they must have some sort of backup.” Jeg said after a bit of a pause. The idea seemed fairly logical to Trevor, especially if one of their scouts had seen the VEN force and wanted to lead them into some sort of trap or ambush.

“It could be nothing more then a scout squadron.” Kane, the new Flight Three Leader, suggested. Trevor grinned. It was also a likely possibility, but his experience had told him that Nazgul’s luck always made things the worst they could possibly be, and then added on a little more for good measure.

“Let’s hope, hey? Maybe that’s all it’ll be and we can just wipe them out quick and go home and hope the Carracks show up before they come to investigate their missing scout squadron.” Trevor said, cracking his knuckles as he did so, with his neck following suit a moment later. It was for the first time in a good couple of months that the idea of a real battle excited him. Sure, if it really was only Preybirds it would be short, with a guaranteed Vast Empire victory, but if it was some sort of trap they would be given the opportunity to fight for their lives and really show these other squadrons what Nazgul was all about. It would also give the new pilots and chance to show what they really had, and give the olds ones a chance to show they still had their skill. Trevor knew perfectly well which group he would be representing if he got the chance.

He had to admit it didn’t feel any different to be flying as a regular flight member compared to flying as a squadron commander. Most of the time in the air the chain of command was out of effect anyway, at least during combat. One wasn’t going to be commanded to do something small when dog fighting with two other pilots. It was different when the order was to retreat or advance or something of that nature, but those were about the only circumstances. Trevor could remember that the idea of having little authority once in the air was part of what had influenced his decision to become a pilot in the first place, although his original post was that of a bomber, not a fighter.

“We should be nearing their last reported position now, Nazgul. Everyone keep on alert for things out of the ordinary, and keep an eye on your radar for any back up they might receive. No reason for any of us to get shot down for being lazy and not watching our backs.” Jeg cautioned as the group neared the coordinates they had been given. It only took a few seconds for everyone to give the response Jeg wanted, a solid ‘yes sir’, and radio silence resumed.

Almost time, I hope. Trevor thought, his heartbeat picking up slightly at the immediate thought of a battle.

OOC:

WC 1205, a bit short, but good enough for now. Too much to do to work on it longer.

Atrick had barely been on deck for five minutes when a familiar alarm rang throughout the ship.

"Attention all pilots! Pirates have appeared in Sector 221. Report to your craft immediately and prepare for further orders!"

At least I didn't miss the party... Atrick thought, his blood already racing at the thought of combat.

Quickly getting back into the TIE fighter, he began to run self-diagnostics, even though he knew all systems were green. The Navy had taught him in a short time that taking things for granted was just asking for trouble. However, as he expected, the green light blinked for all systems go.

He looked out the glass of his cockpit at the several fighters and pilots around him. He recognized no faces, even without their helmets on. He felt a slight knot of sadness in his gut.

Am I the only one left? What happened to them? His thoughts turned to unknown battles where his friends could have died or been injured to the point of being discharged. The knot tightened.

No time for that now. I'll just have to get acquainted on the fly.

As he strapped on his helmet, he caught the snippet of com chatter coming through.

"...you are clear for launch, good luck out there." Atrick was reminded of his earlier days, fighting rebels in an Interceptor. He quickly brushed those thoughts aside as he threw forward the accelerator and gunned out of the hanger and into the cold claws of space.

As Atrick pulled alongside the rest of Nazgul, he noticed that they were forming into smaller flights and a small ding went off inside his head. I forgot to check what flight I'm in... He felt slightly embarrassed at the thought. However, he swallowed his pride and opened a channel through to all the Nazgul TIE's.

"Senior Crewman Atrick25 here, fresh outta civilian life. Where am I supposed to be flying?" He heard a few snickers out of the rookies, who were probably not used to his non military dialect. He didn't think much of it. Prison can do that to some people.

"Atrick? Is that really you?" He heard over the com. He recognized it almost instantly. It was his old friend, Trevor Evenson. He almost cried.

"Trevor! It has been too long! How have you..." He was cut short by a much rougher sounding voice.

"Now is not the time for small talk. Atrick, you are in Flight Three. Petty Officer Second Class Kane is your flight leader. Now form up and maintain radio silence until we engage the enemy."

Atrick felt humbled by the man's gruff nature, but shrugged it off almost instantly. He grabbed the yoke of his TIE and turned towards two others, flying in on the leader's left. He did not recognize them both, but he was not bothered by that now. What he was bothered by was the sitrep scrolling across his computer.

Preybirds. He thought, turning his thoughts back to his smuggling days. They were weak compared to the TIE's and victory seemed almost inevitable. And yet...

Why would they attack us first in Preybirds? The thought troubled him.

Kane left the hangar of the Visigoth with Mel to his right, and soon he noticed that a new pilot formed to his left. Kane heard the chatter on the comms and shook his head, punching out a message to Gshlecc on his datapad, regarding his thoughts of this being a sick joke, giving the rookie flight leader someone who doesn’t even do his homework beforehand. Kane shook his head and continued to view the pirates on his radar.

Kane opened a comm to his flight, wanting them to remain together and not go off on their merry little ways.

“Flight 3, this is Kane. Not a small force out here, however we need to be on our toes. Mel, since you’re my primary wing, I want you on offense with me. Atrick, since you arrived late to this party, you get to watch our backsides. If you notice a strange ship drop out of hyperspace near here, I want you immediately to let me know”

Kane felt Mel’s nervousness at the situation, sharing the thoughts of every member of Nazgul at the moment, knowing that the pirates had something planned. There would be no reason they would put out puddle-jumpers like these out here without significant backup within reach.

Kane opened a comm to the Visigoth, wanting them to keep the squadrons out here up to date on any information they get.

“Nazgul 3-1 to Visigoth. Keep your sensors active. Something tells me we’re not alone out here.”

Kane saw Mel begin to fire off at the Preybirds, and Kane shook his head. Kane would have been more than happy to sit in the back on defense in case the rest of the pirate force showed itself, however Mel took it upon himself to basically paint their TIEs bright white as the hostile force.

“Atrick, cover Mel. I’m going to break and flank.”

Kane rolled hard to his right, swinging around the pirate force wide. Kane didn’t want to be out here all by himself, however if there were pirate reserves out here, he didn’t want to be thought of as an easy target. Kane lined up his target, and although he got a missile lock, Kane decided to use his blasters and clip the wings of Preybird and see what would come to it’s rescue.

The pirate broke off from it’s formation and double-backed the way it had come, which wasn’t surprising. Kane didn’t follow, which probably threw off whatever plans the pirates had for them. Kane broke back to rejoin his flight, smirking a bit.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked jokingly to Mel, reforming as the point in the wedge. Kane ordered Mel to stand down, wanting to see what the wounded pirate would do, and what the other Preybirds would attempt. They still appeared to be moving forward, intent on attacking the Visigoth. Kane shook his head before opening up a comm to the rest of Nazgul.

“These birds look like they’re either stupid or suicidal, so I say let’s give them what they want.”

Kane dialed in the leading Preybird and unleashed his cannons on it, watching as it didn’t even attempt to break away to avoid the fire. It seemed to accept the fate it was dealt. Kane still couldn’t understand it when his helmet crackled with a communication from the Visigoth.

“Visigoth to Nazgul 3-1. There are no life signs from the pirate fighters. It appears they are droids.”

“BLOODY HELL!” Kane slammed his fist against the wall of his cockpit, flipping a switch to the rest of the fighters out here.

“The pirates have put out droids. Save your missiles and use your blasters. The rest of the pirates want to run us out of ammo. There’s no other reason for this.”

Kane growled and shut off his comm, dialing in the next droid pirate and reducing it to stardust rather quickly.

This wasn’t going to be good. Not good at all.

Kane heard the orders to mop up the droids. While he wasn’t really looking forward to painting more springs on his helmet, an order was an order. Kane relayed the message to Mel and Atrick, still wanting Atrick to watch their backs and provide cover fire should they be in a situation they couldn’t escape from.

“Mel, it’s Kane. You go low, I’ll go high. We’ll angle our blasters to pinch them. This way we avoid each other’s fire and we don’t give these gear-heads nowhere to run.”

“Roger.”

Kane watched as Mel broke formation and dipped low, beneath the oncoming droids. Kane pitched upwards a slight bit, bringing his TIE just above the flight plane of the droid fighters. Kane dialed his cannons down and fired, watching as Mel followed suit. The angles of attack were near perfect taking out the first fighter before the others even knew what hit them.

Kane opened the comm channel to Jeg and G, letting them know what he thought. “This is odd… They’re not even trying to evade. They’re not like the droid fleet I fought a few weeks ago, these seem to be piloted by half-retarded protocol droids…”

Kane could hear the sound of Gshlecc shaking his head back and forth, the slight sound of the helmet clicking and echoing into the electronics inside. Kane smirked, wondering what was going through G’s mind before lining up the next shot with Mel, taking out another droid. The Preybirds were fast becoming fewer and fewer, and the tingle in the back of Kane’s mind was growing stronger and stronger.

Something just wasn’t right.

Flight 3 made quick work of the remaining Preybirds. There wasn’t much to them, a few quick blasts and they were gone. It was like a test, a poor pathetic excuse for a pilots exam. That’s when he heard the crackle of his comm and a voice in his helmet.

Kane knew what was about to be told to him before it was even spoken. Kane watched as what seemed like a massive fleet of ships appeared out of nowhere. The voice in his helmet sounded as if it were straining to be stoic, with just a slight tinge of fear. The bridge commander spoke to all of the fighters through the open communications line.

“Attention all pilots. Two Nebulon-B class frigates have dropped out of hyperspace, accompanied by at least three full squadrons of smaller craft. Identification on the smaller craft incomplete.”

Kane quickly radioed Mel, telling him to break back to the rest of the squadron. Atrick’s voice was ringing in Kane’s ear, telling him the same thing he already heard from the Visigoth. Kane’s adrenaline surged and he replied harshly to Atrick.

“Two Neb-Bs? You think? For the love of the Empire, they dropped out right in front of me. I also heard the first warning from the Visigoth. Between my eyes and my ears, you’d think I’d realize what happened!”

Kane checked his sensors and saw Mel lagging behind a bit as Kane was pushing his TIE to the brink of self-destruction in his attempt to rejoin the other forces and not be a sitting duck out here.

“Mel, now’s not the time for caution. Rejoin the rest of Nazgul immediately! Push your ship as hard as it can go!”

Kane rejoined Nazgul and sharply turned his craft around, wanting to face what could be his doom head-on. Mel wasn’t too far behind, the slight ion trail coming off the wings showing he knew the danger as well as Kane did. Checking his sensors, Kane saw Atrick forming to his left.

“Flight Three to Nazgul 1. All accounted for. Requesting orders.”

Kane waited nervously for Jeg’s reply. This wasn’t going to be a pretty battle. The two Neb-Bs and the accompanying pirates looked like two giant nests and a bunch of pissed off hornets looking for who stirred them up.

“Jeg, the droids more than likely were taking readings of everything and relaying the information back to their handlers. I should have seen it sooner, we could have jammed their comms.”

There was still silence on the other end of the comm to the squadron commander. Kane’s nervousness continued to grow as the pirate fleet loomed ahead. Kane shook his head and pulled out his datapad, punching in a quick message to his squad mates, keeping a hold on the message unless his vital signs ceased.

Kane had a very, very bad feeling about this. A cold shudder ran up his spine. Short breaths were taken as he believed his hour had finally arrived.

Kane sat in his TIE, flanked on either side by men who would die for him. Or at least he hoped, because it very well might come to that in a few short moments. Kane counted the pirates across the empty void of space. His count came to thirty-two. He looked at the assembled forces of the Empire on his sensors, and wasn’t overly impressed with the show. Twenty Imperial fighter pilots against 32 pirate scum wasn’t bad odds, however this didn’t appear to be normal pirate scum. Something in the back of Kane’s mind gnawed at him.

“Lieutenant, where are those carracks you promised me?” Kane spoke as he thumbed his comm to Jeg’s TIE. He made it private, he didn’t want anyone else to hear the uncertainty in his voice. Mel’s eagerness to rush out and engage them didn’t sit well either, which made Kane think there was even more to this than a simple pirate raiding party.

The more Kane thought of it, the more Kane refused to believe that the Empire would send a squadron that recently was shredded back into the fray against a force of pirates, when the Visigoth and those Carracks could easily do the job. Kane shook his head, trying to push those thoughts into the back of his mind.

The Neb-Bs seemed to stop in their tracks, and the pirate force was an advancing line-in-the-sand that sooner or later would need to be crossed. Kane gripped the yoke, twisting his hands slightly as the stitching in the gloves protested to the treatment. A quick glance at his status read out showed Kane was fully stocked on every, his life support was operational, and that the Visigoth had been positioned to intercept any hostile fire. It wasn’t the blasters on the fighters Kane worried about, it was those frecking heavy turret cannons on the Nebs.

Well, at least the Acclamator isn’t here. That’s a bonus. Kane thought as he watched the first squadron of pirates advance. As the pointman of the formation fired at them, Kane issued the order to stand down to Mel an Atrick. He also opened the comm to the rest of Nazgul.

“They’re testing range, nothing more. They’d be foolish to engage us going as slow as they are. We’d mow them down and they know it.”

Sounds of agreement echoed in his helmet as others thought about it and nodded. Kane was just as anxious to get this going as everyone else was, even if it meant some of them wouldn’t return. Kane cracked his knuckles, hoping the order to engage would be given.

Kane radioed to Atrick, telling his second wingman about the plan. “Look… I’m not sure what these fools have in mind, but when we go, we’ll go hard. If I break hard, you break hard, but in the opposite direction. Let’s give these scumbags a thing or two to think about.”

He swallowed hard as the pirates got closer. Glancing down at his console he noticed that they’d soon be in missile range. Kane shuddered to think about whether or not this was another wave of droids, hell-bent on getting the Empire to dump their munitions.

Kane fought the urge to adjust for a guidance lock, instead he thumbed his comm back to Jeg, looking for orders, guidance, prayers, anything at this point.

“Look… Boss… I know you’re all for suspense, but these jackals are getting a little too close for my liking. Permission to engage.”

Kane heard the response coming from Jeg, a deep breath in to steady his emotions before he began to speak. However, before Jeg had the chance, the pirate brigade suddenly broke into their separate flight formations and charged the Nazguls hard and fast. The sudden change startled Kane, who slammed his fingers down on the triggers of the blasters in hopes of scattering any who had plans of a head-on charge.

Warnings blared in his cockpit, missile locks from the front. Kane didn’t wait for a response from Jeg or a missile to get close and personal. Kane forced his TIE into a dive, slamming back against the seat with the g-force he created. The alarms got louder and louder, giving Kane no choice but to deploy his chaff.

Once deployed, Kane broke hard port, wanting to shake off the pursuit he was sure he picked up. A quick glance at his console showed that all of the Imperials had evaded the initial surprise attack. Now it was on even terms, and Kane was determined to grit his teeth and drive his TIE up the ass of a sucker-punching pirate.

Mel and Atrick radioed Kane, letting them know they both picked up company and were working on shaking them. Kane dialed in Mel’s position, then pushed his TIE as hard as he could to meet up with his wingman. Soon he found Mel, juking and turning and juking some more. Kane smirked a bit, wondering if Mel was in control or if he was having a seizure behind the controls. The pirate, however, was staying with Mel as best he could, even managing to fire a few shots now and then. Luckily, the shots went wide, the erratic maneuvers frustrating the pirate.

Kane closed the distance between himself and the pirate, still with his own extra baggage with him. Kane turned wide and circled back around, bringing the starboard side of the pirate pursuing Mel into his sights.

“Die! Die die die die die!” Kane shouted as he unleashed hell in the form of laser blasts, shredding the pirate fighter in a heartbeat. Kane sighed in relief for a moment, glad to save his wing’s backside in hopes Mel would return the favor.

OOC:

29 pirates remaining.

In this moment in time, Mel had shook away the deep meditation he was used to being in and began firing up his thrusters. Soon after they kicked on, the space dust up to 5 meters away had melted into a liquid. Two pirates had since rode his tail, and helping Kane became out of the question.

"Kane, I cannot help at the moment. Two kretting pirates behind me!"

Mel swooped below a third Pirate, who decided to follow closely behind.

Fecks. He thought with a frown.

Mel's ship had sped faster, but the pirates still followed close behind. He then pulled the ship forward, into an upward curve, and found himself behind the pirates. Now was his chance. He shot away at the center ship, which then became a cloud of fire and bits of shrapnel.

There's one.

Mel then turned his attention to the ship on the left. Letting loose laserfire, the crazed aim of Mel's craft had found its target.

There's two.

He imagined the last Pirate to be either scared or angry. However, Mel lacked the knowledge to know who was in the cockpit of the third ship, now accelerating and turning to get behind Mel. Somehow, with a mixture of turning, rapid rolling, and other rare techniques for a pirate to use, the third ship found itself behind Mel.

However, instead of being killed, Mel had merely heard the small cut-off of his COM.

Feck, it's him.

"Good day, Krasznius."

Mel responded by aggressively moving his ship upwards, then to the left as Narcolus followed, then shooting at the pilot before he could say anything else.

"This is one of the only times I would like to see you, Narcolus. With me behind, shooting you to pieces."

Narcolus laughed bitterly. "Remember Krasznius, this isn't the Imperial Academy."

The ship had rolled to the right while stopping, causing Mel's craft to find itself in front.

Fecks.

"Using those old tricks, are you Narcolus?" Mel said sarcastically, seemingly bluffing out his nervousness.

"I believe it is these old tricks which will determine your death, Krasznius." said the old pilot to the other one.

The pilots spoke to eachother as angry gentlemen would. Both were philosophers, and both hated the other.

This will be our final competition.

The two ships braided around eachother in a vicious display of the old Imperial tactics under Palpatine.

"Narcolus, you realize I could kill you with the new tactics I learned with VEN?"

"We'll see." Narcolus said while smiling.

Kane sat in his own ship, tending to his own problems. In the corner of his eye, he saw the turmoil Mel was dealing with.

"Mel, come in."

No answer.

"Mel, come in, please."

Not a word.

This was not to say Mel was not responding, for he had each time. He was too deep in meditation, feeling where he should shoot by the chips dug in his brain and in the external equipment.

Narcolus had roughly the same mechanical makeup as Mel; being able to read another's thoughts through glorious Cybernetics along with other nearly unique powers of technology. They could have been exact twins.

The stalemate dragged on, amazingly without much interruption. Finally, one made a mistake. The other had taken advantage of the weakness, being a bad turn, and killed the other with laserfire.

Mel was nearly mortally wounded, but Narcolus was no more; he was incinerated, and Mel never felt so complete before.

Just returning the favor, old fellow.

"Kane, this is Mel. I can cover you now without Nar- that ship behind me."

"Good to hear. There's two behind me, and I could use your help."

Flying away from the last Pirate chasing his rear was proving to be rather tricky. He couldn't think of anything to do, most manouvers would either create an opening in his defenses for the one behind him to take him down, or create an opening for other Pirates who are all too eager too shoot down an Vast Imperial TIE-Fighter. Thinking to himself that he won't be just an addition to someones kill count he looked around and tried to find something to provide him with a good chance at fighting back. And after a good minute he finally though of something. He decreased his velocity with just a tiny bit, allowing the pirate to come closer to him. When he was nearly in point blank range his little plan took into action. They were flying straight in the wreckage of a shot Pirate Fighter and the two of them headed straight into it. The Pirate noticed it and flew over the wreckage ready to take down Girias, but unlike what he thought, Girias had flown under the wreckage and had killed his speed by pulling the throttle back to the very beginning. The sudden shock of stopping kicked Girias forward, almost hitting the window with his face. When he recuperated from the huge forces hitting him, he pulled his TIE-Fighter up slightly and made quick work of the dazzled and confused enemy Pirate. As the lasers kept flying at it at a very face pace, the deflectors shields had to give up before the pilot could do something. The last bolts pierced the shields only to then hit the generators, causing an overload and destruction of the enemy Pirate Fighter. Girias pushed the throttle forward and made a u-turn, eager to rejoin the fight. He said some words to his Flight Commandor.

"This is Nazgul 2-3, I've got another one and my rear is safe again. I'll be heading back in the fight now."

He flew straight back into the major combat zone, only to see that most of his fellow Nazguls were doing very good and were slowly killing off the Pirates, one at a time. He flew over some major combat and did a barrel roll to dodge some stray fire and move him away from the danger. After some fancy flying, he found himself at a decent range behind an enemy and was prepared to open fire, when suddenly a torpedo found itself a way beneath Girias' feet and shoved itself straight into the enemy, detonating and causing a shockwave and a lot of shrapnel around in the vacuum of space. He didn't have much time but he managed to dodge the explosion by ducking and decelerating very rapidly only to speed up after the big boom and started back at chasing a pirate.

It took him a fair bit of flying to get himself in the range of one of the better Pirate Fighters, and it looked like he wasn't going to give Girias an easy kill, getting a clean shot was near impossible so the use of his Torpedoes was very tempting, but the moment he wanted to press the button he thought of the Nebulon-B Freighters and decided to spare his Torpedoes. With a simple click he changed the targeting computer back to Lasers and decided to shoot this bastard into oblivion even if it took him hours of chasing and aiming. But lady luck was on his side, after only a minute or two the Pirate had to dodge some stray fire, causing it to fly straight into the targeting system of Girias. He managed to squeeze off a few rounds before the Pirate could start dodging again. It was only a few rounds but those few rounds were enough to completely take down his deflector shields.

The pirate was going to die, and he knew it. But like any good pilot he thought to himself that if he had to die he's going to take the one who shoots him down with him, straight to the afterlife. With Girias on his tail, following him very closely, his options were limited. He couldn't call for back-up since every other pilot was already engaged with someone, and calling them away would mean certain death for them. So, he decided to try and lose Girias to save his rear end. He tried to do a big loop to get away, but Girias followed him through the entire loop, same went for the screwdriver and any other techniques he could pull out of his trick bag. Meanwhile, Girias was getting tired of this chase game and wase firing round after round at his enemy, only he shot to the left or to the right of the Fighter, hoping to cut off his dodging. The Pirate noticed it too late and took another hit, this one hit him in the engines, crippling them to maybe 80% functionality. The sudden decrease in speed caused for his dodging to become slower as well and since his movement has been slowed down, he can barely fly out of harms way to a regular pilot. But to a Nazgul pilot, his slim chance of winning had disappeared. Girias used his Speed Advantage to close the gap and fly very close to the enemy Pirate, shooting two lasers straight into him as he pulled up to escape. The two last lasers were enough to completely destroy his engines, leaving him dead in the water, and easy picking for Girias. When he turned around and pushed the buttons just a few times, the resulting lasers pierced the Pirate and destroyed it, taking down one of the smarter and better pilots.

Kane broke away from assisting G’shlecc, moving to reform his flight with Mel and Atrick. Kane picked up an overzealous fighter on his six, and was more focused on Atrick’s predicament than his own. He radioed Mel, asking for his assistance with the pirate on his Six, and once Mel replied in the affirmative Kane was off.

He piloted his ship past Mel, letting the old man do whatever made him happiest. At this point he didn’t care if it were blowing the wings off the fighter or taking the pirate out for dinner. Atrick looked to be in a bad way, and that was Kane’s priority.

With the pirate behind him taken care of, Kane opened a channel to Atrick and let him know he had support. Kane flew hin behind the two pirates trying to make short work of his wingman, and decided that if he were lucky he could get two for the price of one. However, he didn’t want to get three, because Atrick was too close for a missile blast, and the pirates weren’t going to be fooled by some hot-shot laser fire.

Kane told Atrick of the plan, and gave his wingman the instructions. Kane then broke hard to the side, swinging around in a wide loop. This brought him in line with Atrick’s port side. However, he was far enough back from the pursuit so neither Atrick nor the pirates knew he was there. Kane dialed in his blasters and fired a few test shots, making sure they were angled perfectly. One angled to the left, one angled to the right. Instead of criss-crossing to hit the target, these were dialed away.

Kane let Atrick know he was ready, and began flying towards the pursuit. Atrick still asked, repeatedly, if Kane was sure about this. Kane didn’t answer, not wanting to either scare nor encourage his mate. He needed Atrick to follow the plan, and if there was anyone else out there who knew what he was up to, the plan would fail.

Kane closed the gap, reading his console with short glances stolen down at it while he flew as fast as his TIE could go. Closer and closer to the rendezvous point both Kane and Atrick came. Kane watched as Atrick flew past, followed closely by the two pirates.

As soon as Atrick passed Kane’s left wing, Kane opened fire. The laser blasts were intended to spook the pirates by seeing that they were being attacked in from the front and from the behind. What Kane didn’t expect was the irrational actions of a “seasoned” pirate.

The pirate closest to Atrick suddenly rolled away from the pursuit. The pirate also managed to roll over his wingman, causing a few bumps to happen between the crafts, and the wingman to dive down. Kane took to the diving pirate, holding the yoke with his elbows as he dialed in his blasters back to their optimal positions.

Kane quickly took up the pursuit, getting a guidance lock on his missile system. Kane fell back a slight bit and fired off his second missile, watching the tiny streak quickly close the gap between source and destination. Moments before the missile was to impact, Kane saw a bright flash and then the explosion. However, he noticed the pirate ship was not destroyed.
The pirate deployed chaff and flares at the last possible instant, letting the missile get confused and detonate against nothing. Now Kane was pissed. He wasted a perfectly good missile on a useless pirate out here in the middle of nowhere. Kane felt his pulse quicken as the muscles in his neck tighten. After a few moments he realized he was grinding his teeth.

Kane quickly accelerated to catch the pirate, closing the gap and firing quick bursts with his blasters. He knew the pirate wasn’t the average smuggler or other scum out here, however he wasn’t going to waste another missile to confirm a kill, considering there was still a fair amount of them out here and it wasn’t close to being finished yet. Not until the Carracks arrived and Kane was safely back aboard the Visigoth.

Kane kept firing, and each time he did he barely missed the pirate. Wide shots kept the fighter from breaking away and regrouping with friends, so this remained a one-on-one battle. A quick bursts of blasts again his nothing but empty space as the pirate swung like a pendulum to avoid the attack.

Kane didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to think it, but he felt as if this pirate could either read his thoughts or had some kind of surveillance device on Kane’s TIE. There was no other way that this scumbag could know what was going on. Kane fell into a yo-yo with the pirate, firing from both his high and low positions, trying to throw off the pilot and force him to make an error.

Up and down, down and up, and still nothing to show for it. Not even the simulators could have prepared Kane for the ingenuity of this pirate, and if it wasn’t for the fact that one of them would have to die before this was over, Kane would recommend him for the Imperial Navy. This pilot was good, however Kane wasn’t about to let this one get the better of him.

The dogfight seemed to drag on, Kane heard the other squadrons radioing each other on the open channel of flight formations and pirate attacks. A small flight of pirates even had the fortitude to attack the Visigoth, managing to slightly damage one turret before a barrage of heavy fire pushed them back. A status report from the Visigoth stated that the turret was damaged about 20 percent, but the droids were fast to repair it.

Kane decided to use the pirate’s trick against him, firing a sustained burst of laser fire, he quickly began to swing back and forth like a pendulum, hands and feet working in unison, having the fight the craft against a complete roll. The pirate dipped low to avoid the barrage, which brought Kane into a dive behind him. This wasn’t going to end any time soon, and Kane had a squadron to get back to.

Kane dialed in his guidance system, extremely hesitant to launch another missile at this crafty pilot. However, there was no choice, and as the system read a lock Kane slid his thumb over the launch control. Hesitating just another moment, Kane pressed the button and launched his second missile of the encounter at the pirate. This one hit home as Kane watched the craft shatter like a piece of glass. The explosion seemed dull to Kane, more upset on the spent munitions than excited about the scorched goon.

Mel had heard the sigh from Kane's ship, knowing that he did not want to use that missile.

"Don't worry about it. We'll get more later."

As Mel finished his sentence, Mel's ship began to vibrate vigorously; he had been the victim of a direct hit. The pirates were getting craftier by the second, and it seemed that they were adapting to each of the crewman's movements. Mel was about to request help from Kane, but he had problems of his own.

Fecks again.

Mel then lit up.

That's it!

"Kane, I know that there's  a ship behind both of us, and I have an idea."

"What is it?" was the only response Kane could come up with, retaliating from another set of shots.

"Charge at me, and when I say 'now,' pull your ship down."

"Mel, I know what you're-" more fire, "thinking, but-"

It was too late. Mel began charging his craft towards Kane's. His eyes were wide open, Mel's as well. The pirates, not being able to see past their opponents' crafts, followed them.

"Now!"

Kane made a sharp turn downwards, nearly scraping the paint off of one of his TIE's wings. Mel accelerated upwards, making a much smoother transition than Kane's ship. The pirates, for the brief nanosecond they had left, regretted messing with the Vast Imperial Navy. By the next nanosecond, they had crashed into the other's ship.

Kane smiled and cheered, and Mel followed suit with a whoop.

The two other pilots were easily replaced by a few more, and Kane decided to let Atrick take care of them.

Farther away, one of the Nebulon B Class Frigates was making an advance. Apparently, its commander thought that they had taken enough losses.

"Kane and G, one of those Frigates is headed towards us. Any orders?"

“Awwww, Crap!!!”

The Neb-B’s didn’t help things, well not from G’s viewpoint.  The battle was already not what you would call textbook.  Kane and Mel were finishing up with the droid ships when the rest of the pirate fleet dropped in.  Jeg, Paradox, Trevor, Lousy, Rogue, Atrick and the new fish Hex immediately dove into the fray.  Nazgul looked to have a fight on their hands. 

  The newness of the reconstituted squadron was about to be rubbed off with a blast furnace.  The noobs were gonna be vets when they got back.

  If they got back

  Everyone performed up to the levels Driver expected.  Kane dispatched pirates left and right, Lousy had improved in his time away.  The others were weaving to and fro taking out bogeys when able, avoiding death when not dealing it.

  The tide seemed to be turning in the Nazzies favor when the Acclamator showed up. 

  “That’s just freaking lovely.  Where the hell’s did they get that?”

  Jeg cut in, “I don’t know and I don’t care. Stay clear and take out the fighters, the cavalry should be showing up soon.”

  The mere mention of the inbound Carracks made G wince.  With his luck they’d show up just in time to retrieve his body.  He slammed the TIE into a hard port turn and found himself the proud recipient of a pirate target.  Not wanting to be rude, he took it out.  The craft flared into a ball of flame and gasses, quickly extinguished in the vacuum of space.

  Nazgul had finally turned the tables and was starting to clean out the rest of the pirate fighter craft.  They may be good enough to raid outposts, but not good enough to take on the best of the Vast Empire.  Even though that plaque hung on Kaph’s wall right now, G knew Nazgul was the best.  He knew because he’d helped mold this unit.  He knew what they were capable of and these pirates were nothing more than a few more kills stamped on the side of his cockpit.

  The ten pilots of Nazgul swept away the last of the pirate fighters in no time.  Jeg got a kill, as did Trevor.  The rest of the squadron divvied up the renegades.  All that was left were the big boys. 

  “Well, now what?”

  Jeg waited a bit before answering, “I’m still debating our options.”

  G nodded to himself, taking on three capital ships was not on his ‘To Do’ list today.  However, taking on ten winded TIE’s seemed to be on the pirate’s agenda, for at that moment the Neb-B’s opened up at long range.  Nazgul didn’t have much problem avoiding the shots, the problem arose when the Acclamator gunned its engines and was suddenly in the middle of the formation.

  The vintage ship wasted no time opening up it’s batteries on the fighters.  The whole of space seemed to be alive with bolts of energy. 

  “Scatter if you want to live!” screamed Jeg as the first rounds lit up the space around him.

  Scatter they did.  Each individual flight broke into its elements and ran for the deck.  The closer to the big ship they got the harder it would be to get a good shot.  The TIE’s streaked across the pocked and worn surface of the Clone Wars Era craft, occasionally taking pot-shots at whatever got in their way.  They were aiming to get aft of the ship, and get away alive.

  The Neb-B’s had a different plan.  One each had drawn up both for and aft of the Acclamator, essentially crossing the T on their own ship.  The Nazzies flew headlong into a full broadside from the aft Nebulon. 

  The blast came as somewhat of a surprise to G.  He hadn’t thought of pirates as much in the way of tacticians, but here they’d done gone and got the Nazzies good.    The wall of energy tore through their ranks.  Hex and Trevor each lost a wing and spun out of control.  They slammed into Rogue causing enough damage to knock out his engines.  Kane and Mel had somehow avoided damage, but were now left to fly protection over their wounded comrades. 

  G’s vision slowly returned.  The blast had been close enough that it overloaded his helmets filters, and temporarily blinded him.  He never even saw Jeg get hit.  He heard it though.  The sudden nothingness of his voice as he was cut off mid orders.  The screams of his squadron mates as they reacted to the fireball.  The ping of his radar as Jegora Fal’s TIE ceased to exist.

  His eyesight returned, but not his wits.  This was not happening.  Jeg could not be gone.  It just couldn’t happen, he was the best pilot in the Navy and one of the best that G had ever seen anywhere in the galaxy.  He remembered when Trevor had been ‘killed’ on his first mission.  He knew that somehow Jeg had escaped and was somehow floating in his cockpit waiting to be picked up.  He punched up his radar and narrowed the search.  Nothing.  Not even debris was left.  He was gone.

  The pirates didn’t care if they’d just killed one of the finest pilots ever to put on a flight suit, they wanted to kill some more.  G now had the responsibility to bring what was left of Nazgul home.  He located Kane and Mel flying cover for the three damaged TIES.  He pulled Atrick and Lousy back to help run interference, as he tried to figure out a way to get them out of here. 

  “Rogue, how’s your ship?”

  “Dead in space, “he answered. Frustration dripped from every word.

  “OK, Trev, Hex and Rogue I want you to activate your flight suits emergency survival system and pop the hatches.  Mel, Kane and I will do the same.  We’re gonna move in and pick you up.  It’s gonna be a tight fit, but we’re gonna get you outta here.”

  “Uh, bossman, have you ever tried this, “asked Kane

  “No, and I hope to hells it works, if not we’re all dead.  On my mark, execute.  Mark!”

  The three wounded TIE’s hatches blew off into the void.  Their pilots gingerly floated up and out.  G and his makeshift rescue team listened as the atmosphere in their cockpits hissed away.  They jockeyed the fighters around and into position over their disabled brethren.  G popped his top over Rogue and waited for the senior pilot to float up and in.  To say the fit was tight was and understatement.  Rogue had to shoehorn himself in.  His helmet scraping against the exposed conduits and bulkheads that made up the shell of the craft. 

  “Better hurry up folks, company’s coming again, “commed Atrick.

  Trev was the last to cram himself in.  The hatches sealed and the now overloaded ships dove strait down.  Capital ships seemed to only deal with two dimensions when it came to pursuit, fore and aft.  Down didn’t sit well with them, but it was fine and dandy with G.

  The six remaining Nazgul fighters hauled ass as quickly as they could.  Where they were headed they didn’t know.  Three of the ships were straining to keep up as they were vastly overloaded with rescued pilots, and the other three were worried about covering the retreat.

  “Keep whatever comes off our tails, “G commed to Paradox, Lousy and Atrick. 

  *For all the good it’ll do, we’ve got nowhere to go

  As if on cue from a bad Holo, the space around the fleeing fighters became instantaneously fuller.  The cavalry had arrived.  The Carracks winked into existence and almost immediately opened fire.  Behind them, came more.  A brand, spanking new ISD leading a whole taskforce.

  “Daaaammmnn.”

  G’s comm crackled to life, “This is the Cloudwalker to Squadron. Come in Squadron.”

  “Nazgul 2-1 to Cloudwalker, this is SCPO Atrasin, XO of Nazgul requesting emergency landing. We’ve got wounded and are coming in.”

  “Roger that Nazgul, bring em in.  The fleet’ll take care of our little friends.”

  Driver guided his fighter into the massive launch bay of the ISD.  The rest of the battered squadron followed suit.  In a matter of minutes they were all on board and safe.  Driver didn’t even care about the rest of the battle.  His was over.  The medics came and collected Trev, Hex and Rogue.  The others gravitated to G.  They all had that questioning look on their faces.  The same look a child gets when they lose a parent…who’ll take care of me now.

  G knew who would. He would.  They were his boys and girls now.  He had to answer their questions, calm their fears and make them want to go back out into harms way.  As he looked into their faces he knew he would do this, but who would answer his questions and fears and make him want to risk their lives.  The only man he trusted to answer that question wasn’t here anymore and never would be again.

“Damn you Jeg, “he muttered to himself.

***Two Days Later***

Nazgul was again in the main launch bay of the ISD Cloudwalker.  This time, however, it was for a different reason.  The nine surviving members of the squadron stood ramrod strait as the dirge began.  They were in their best dress uniforms, borrowed form the ships stores, and stared vacantly at nothing in particular.  The symbolic, empty, black coffin of Lieutenant Jegora Fal sat perched on the magnetic field holding the vacuum of space at bay.  The vast majority of the ships company had also gathered to pay their respects to the fallen Squadron Commander that only a few knew, and a handful knew by reputation.  The captain said the traditional spacer’s funeral and the sarcophagus slid into the void as the dirge ended.  Nazgul snapped to attention and saluted their fallen leader.  The crew quietly exited the hangar leaving the nine behind. 

  The newly minted Squadron Commander surveyed them all.  They were some of the finest pilots in all of the Empire.  Veteran and pup, old and young, who was he to lead them. 

  You are the man who Jeg trained to take ‘em out and bring ‘em back

  Kane reached into his tunic and pulled out a flask and small, collapsible shot glasses.  He passed out one to each of the members and filled their cups with the strong Corellian whiskey.  They turned as one to G.  He toed the floor momentarily, trying to think of a way to memorialize his fallen friend.  He sighed, raised his glass and looked to his squadron.

  “The only way Jeg would want to be remembered is as the best damn pilot in the best damn squadron.  Gentlemen, charge your glasses.  To Jegora Fal and Nazgul.”

  The drink was hot, bracing, and soon faded; as G knew they to would all fade away.  He turned and headed back to his quarters, he needed sleep, he had a squadron to run.


***Three Days Later***

  “Will he live, “questioned the hooded figure?

  The healer paused, and removed his hands, “He will.”

  “Good, this one has great promise; he will be needed in the future.”

  The hooded figure turned and left the healer with his charge, a battered young man with flowing hair and a hardened look.

OOC:

ok kids, this story is for all intents an purposes done. you may, however, post remberences of Jeg, or post battle thoughts, or anything else, it's free and open.  Do not post on the last portion of my post. We all think that Jeg is dead, so keep it that way.

The last part of the battle was a haze to Girias. He remembered flying over to G as he was planning to save the wounded pilots. He remembered seeing our Big Ship bombard the big ship of the Space Pirates as well as flying back to the Imperial Star Destroyer Cloudwalker and touching down in the hangar bays. After that, it was a mass of hurrying people to care for wounded pilots, pilots and gunners running for their posts, droids running around for no apparent reason and Girias getting pulled to the Medic Bay for check ups. As he was struggling to remain with his squadron someone drugged him, making Girias collaps to the floor.

Waking up several few hours later he grabbed one of the nearest person that was to him as he had just woken up and pulled him towards him. With a still sleeping face he started speaking at the man without showing emotions.

"If you want to live to have children, I suggest you either drug me some more Or give me an update on the Nazgul mission and the fight going on. Your choice, but make it the right one."

With a squeeking voice the man told him that the battle was over by pummeling the enemy ships into non existence. But there were pilots lost, good pilots. Especially the man that had accompagnied Nazgul from before Girias joined, a man that had got to be the best pilot he had ever seen. The shock of hearing that Jegora had died, caused his breath to stock and his brain to not register the shock. He could barely believe it.

Two days later and a lot of time spent in the bars drinking to Jegoras memory he was clean shaven, spent some quality time in the refresher, had put on a fresh uniform and was now standing in the Launch Bay fighting to keep the curse words in himself.
The ceremony was short, a regular funeral for a not so regular Space Pilot. When they snapped to attention and saluted the coffin, a small tear ran out of the corner of his eye for his fallen superior, his fallen Squadron Leader, and his fallen comerad. He received his glass and drank the warm yet short amount of Whiskey, to the memory of Jegora. Before heading off, he kissed his glove and put it on the coffin.

"Have a good voyage, Jegora, you deserve it."