“Oh, crap.” Ferran spun his ship out of the way just in time. Blaster fire tore through the space he’d been occupying less than a second before.  Warning lights were flashing all over the place, signifying target locks on his craft, or nearby ships, or for a million other reasons Ferran didn’t have the time nor patience to ponder. He spun his ship again as the first of the Interceptors opened fire. Green lasers a few meters from his hull.

“Not good,” Korant said a bit worriedly. A salvo from one of the Carracks nearly ripped his ship in half. As it was, one of his stabalizers was grazed and his ship veered off course wildly.

Ferran looked through his scanners hurriedly, trying to formulate a plan that didn’t end with them getting shot.

“Anyone know if the station is armed?” Ferran asked. There was some general mumbling over the comms as Ferran’s wingmates tried to answer and fly and the same time. Finally Arthur spoke up, a bit sheepishly. Understandable considering he was barely a day out of the academy, Ferran thought.

“Not...not that I know of,” Arthur said. “At least, none of the instructions mentioned it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Ferran grinned and hit the throttle. At the same moment, an enemy interceptor scored a hit on his right wing and the back of his cockpit. Ferran began a dizzying spin in the exact opposite direction of where he wanted to be.

“That...that line would’ve been a bit more dramatic without all these damn TIEs,” Ferran conceded. A few other pilots chuckled and shot off toward the station.  Ferran took up the rear, a good four hundred meters behind his squadron mates and probably under half a mile from the incoming Interceptors. They continued to take potshots at him as he hurried to catch up. Some of the lasers came quite close, but none scored a hit.

After a moment, Ferran finally realized that his squadron mates were pulling away from him. A quick skim of his controls told him that he damaged his ion engine...somehow. The simulations weren’t very helpful when it came to realistic damage tracking. All the machine told him was that his left engine was running at fifty percent and falling. The normal Interceptors behind him, who, on any given day would be no match for Viper’s modified TIEs in terms of speed, were actually gaining on Ferran. He did a rough calculation in his head and figured he’d probably get to the station before they came within kill range.

“Guys, my engine’s shot. I don’t mean to get all sappy, but I think you’re going to have to continue on without me. I’ll hold them off and then follow you out.”

“You sure?” Korant asked.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” There was a tense somber moment, everyone contemplating the enormity of what Ferran was about to do. There were few people who could take on an entire squadron of TIE Interceptors, even in a modified stealth TIE. And that wasn’t even counting the fact that the second squadron and the Carracks could catch up to Ferran before he’d made his escape. He had a very high chance of not surviving, and they knew it.

Then they remembered that the whole thing was just a simulation and sped forward, leaving Ferran far behind.

Ferran sucked in his breath. He was alone, entirely cut off. There was a soft beep as his short-range communicators lost the rest of the squadron’s signal. Entirely alone.

A few stray shots just a few meters away reminded him that he had a job to do. No time to contemplate his virtual isolation and possible demise now. It was time for killing.

He studied the station intently. It was a pretty standard hab station, based on one, long, center section comprising the bulk of the construct. From that, numerous bridges, in the shape of spokes, shot off connecting the center section to many auxiliary buildings. The whole thing spun lazily, a giant dancer twirling in space. Ferran laughed quietly at the notion. That was one very fat and ugly dancer.

True to Arthur’s word, there didn’t seem to be any weapons emplacements. The rest of his squadron, passing under the different bridge-spokes certainly took no fire as they shot past. Ferran, at least, wouldn’t have to worry about being shot out of the sky by the station when he was fighting the forty-eight other fighters and two capital ships. Boy, was that a relief.

He leaned back in the simulator and waited the long minutes it took to get to the station. One thing he had to hand to the simulators, despite their occasional glitches: they were certainly a hell of a lot more spacious than the TIE cockpits.

More lasers flew by closer as the Interceptors closed the gap between them and the Viper pilot. Ferran saw that his original rough calculations had been a little off, and the Interceptors would actually reach him a bit past the station. He slowed his speed, letting them catch up sooner and adding to the whole ‘limping fighter’ look that he was trying to go for. Let them feel confident. Let them feel safe. He’d show them.

He took a hit to the right stabilizer, again, and then another to the top of the cockpit, before he finally decided it was time. He pulled up and then spun sharply into a dive that took his parallel to the station’s mains spire. The Interceptors reacted a bit too slow, and shot overhead before spinning around to follow him. They were nimble, he had to give them that. But his craft had been made to do this stuff. He was on top of them before they realized that he was no longer diving. By the time they scattered, he’d already popped the cockpits of two TIE Interceptors like over-ripen fruit. Their remains shot past, trailing flecks of metal debris.

“Scratch two,” Ferran smiled, speeding up and shooting into the twisted metal giant that was the space station. The shadow of its bulk draped over his craft, and he was engulfed in darkness. That’s when the TIEs struck.

It was random at first. He’d ruffled their feathers quite considerably with the ferocity of his first attack. They were still scattered, separated, and they attacked with little coordination. Ferran dodged the first strafe, going under a spoke–bridge as his pursuer went over. A second later, the pursuer was on a  collision course with the station, wing venting debris. Ferran didn’t watch him die.

The next two attackers came out of nowhere. Ferran pulled up at the last second, narrowly avoiding crashing into them, before he came down behind them. He grinned as they died. He was getting pretty good at this; flipping up and over the TIEs seemed to be the thing to do. They never seemed to see it coming. Four down, twenty or so to go.

The bulk of the TIEs were coming now. Ferran dodged two more groups before finally targeting a duo of pilots detached from the rest of the squadron. They came straight at him, just like the two before. Ferran knew what to do. As they let loose their volley, he lightly flipped his ship up, ending up above and behind his attackers. With a deliberate gentleness, he turned his fighter one-eighty, ready to take his shot. That’s when the third Interceptor hit his cockpit head on and the world went white.

Simulation over...

Korant flew steadily closer to the station as he looked at his display and saw that Ferran was being swarmed by enemy ships.  Good luck thought Korant as his ship began to get closer.  His heart sank when his saw Ferran’s ship blink out from his display.  Korant knew it was only a simulation but he still felt saddened at the loss of a fellow Viper pilot.  Suddenly the station opened fire on Korant.

“Frack!” yelled Korant as he grabbed his control stick and veered his ship sharply away from the stations batteries.  That was too close thought Korant as his ship flew away from the station’s batteries.  His computer started beeping and Korant realised that although he was no longer in range of the station, he was flying towards the enemy ships.

Oh damn thought Korant as he realised he was caught between the enemy ships and the station.  He knew that he couldn’t endure the firepower of either one so he angled the ship away from both dangers.  His computer emitted another beep.

“What now?” asked Korant to his ship.

He was about to look at his display console but didn’t need to as he saw it in front of him.  There was a comet, streaking through space and he was on an intercept course.  This could work to my advantage thought Korant as he throttled his ship more and headed towards the front of the comet.

His display indicated that the enemy ships were in pursuit of him but he continued heading towards the comet.  The comet filled his view port as he got closer and closer to it.  His ship flew directly in front of the comet, barely missing it.  The enemy ships in pursuit suddenly found themselves having to veer away from the comet as their approach vector was wrong.  One ship thought he could make it and ended up slamming into the comet itself.

Korant breathed a sigh of relief as he knew that he was free from the enemy ships and set a course back to the rendezvous point.  He was glad that the simulation was over and wondered how difficult the next one would be.

Korant stretched and yawned.  It felt like he had been in the simulator for hours, in fact he wasn’t sure just how long it actually was.  He wanted to see what the next simulation was but he also could feel how tired he was and he knew he needed a break.

Korant slid out of the simulator and stretched fully.  He wandered over to the bar and grabbed a bar stool and sat down.  He waited patiently for the bartender to come over to him.  Eventually he approached Korant.

“Corellian whiskey, make it a double” said Korant.

The bartender nodded and grabbed a bottle of corellian whiskey and poured out a double shot into a glass and placed it in front of Korant.

“Thanks” said Korant.

Grasping the glass in his hands, he lifted it to his lips and took a small sip.  Immediately the liquid slid down his throat and warmed his insides.  He smiled as the liquid felt good as it warmed him and gave him a nice buzz.

Korant finished off the glass and wondered whether he should have another but he wasn’t overly sure when the mission was going to commence and he didn’t want to be overly intoxicated it began.

He slid the glass over to the bartender and shook his head as the bartender queried if he wanted a refill.  Korant hopped off the stool and decided to return to his room, he wondered when they would be called for the mission to begin and after such an intense simulation experience, he wanted to get some rest.

Strolling through the decks of the ship, Korant soon found his room and strolled in.  He grabbed his datapad and began to leaf through the mission details as he lay down on the bed.  He took in as much information as he could.

Ouch! Cadie didn't really know Ferran that well, but nobody deserves a beating like he was getting.

She had been in the cafeteria, finishing up her meal when the whole thing started. An accidental brush followed by some words and now here they were in the training room.

Cadie and many of the other Viper's followed the two of them down here from the cafeteria. As Cadie walked briskly through the hall, she ran into Korant who was peeking his head out of his room to see what all the commotion was about.

“Hey Flyboy!” she grabbed his shoulder and used it to slow her momentum, which dragged him a few inches.

“Umm hey Cadie, whats going on?” His eyebrows were down looking at the majority of his squadron passing the two of them by.

“This guy from another squadron, Starlight. Well he started something with Ferran so they are going to solve their differences in an aggressively diplomatic fashion.” He looked at her as if she spoke in Gunganese. “In other words they are going to have a fight, wanna come?” She said the last part almost a bit too excitedly.

Korant looked down at his datapad for a second, then shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

The two men were holding combat poles taking turns thrashing each others skulls in. Ferran looked like he was going down, then he suddenly swept the pole through Gorn's legs and down he went.

Cadie and Karant cheered, as did the rest of the Viper's who had assembled. It looked like Ferran was going to get him in the end.

Then from the other side of the ring, Cadie could hear one of the pilots from the Starlight Squadron say “Dirty, stinking, son-of-a...” Then the whole of the squadron jumped into the ring and went after Ferran.

“Aw Hell no!” Cadie turned around, grabbed an unused combat pole and went to jump in the ring. She only stopped for a second when she felt Korant's hand on her shoulder. “Cadie we probably shouldn't be doing this.” Shrugging the hand off Cadie winked then turned and charged into the fray.

She got quite a few good hits in, only suffering a pretty bad black eye that would sting in the morning. Korant was nice enough to make sure she made it back to her bunk, even though she insisted she could make it there just fine on her own.

Jolinar was on her way to get some food, after enjoying a long shower that would have been scalding to many humans.  She passed Cadie and one of the newer members of the squadron coming from the opposite direction.  Cadie had a black eye, and was trying to suppress a grin if the twitching corners of her mouth were any indication.  Jolinar paused and arched an eyebrow at them.

"I hope you aren't already picking fights with your squadmates."  Jolinar said in a tone that was only a little serious.  Being the elder of the two of them, and senior by a rank, Jolinar had to at least appear to chastise her wingmate for such things.  She didn't think real chastisement was in order, since the black eye didn't look bad enough to have an impact on Cadie's flying ability.

Korant was happy to have dropped off Cadie safe and sound.  His room seemed very empty when he returned.  He wasn't sure what to do with himself.  He thought about reading through his pad again but he had read and re-read everything there was to know about the mission.

I'm going to go stir crazy if I just sit here thought Korant.  He knew he really should get some rest as his body still ached slightly from the simulation exercise but he didn't feel like sleeping just now.

Korant slipped off the bed and left his quarters.  He could hear the door slide closed behind him.  He decided to return to the bar and area.  He couldn't decide on whether to just simply have a drink or go behind the simulator again.

The bar area was very quiet.  Korant assumed that most of the pilots were either resting or he assumed some were in the medical bay getting tended to after the fight.  He glanced at the pilots that were here and hoped none were from that other squad.

When is this mission going to get going thought Korant.  He felt like he had been on this ship for days now, he was starting to get irritable.  He always felt that way when waiting.  For him, waiting was the hardest part of any mission.

The bartender glanced up at Korant but Korant shook his head.  He knew where he wanted to be and it wasn't here.  Leaving the bar behind him, Korant began strolling down the corridors of the ship.

He soon found himself in the hangar bay.  It didn' take him long to find his TIE Interceptor.  None of the deck hands were about and Korant figured that all the modifications had been done to the fighter.  Korant ran his hand along the sleek hull of his fighter.  He still couldn't believe that soon he would be flying her.

"Soon" he whispered to the Interceptor as he patted the hull of the fighter.

Arthur didn't know why he followed them it could be he wanted to fit in with the rest of the squad or he really wanted to see a good brawl he couldn't decided.  He saw what was a good fight turn into a full on beat down of a fellow squad mate, and he could not just stand by idly watching.  He figured he jump in when the rest of the Starlight Squadron jumped Ferran after a great move.  He grabbed the first pole he could and jumped in after one of the first one to attack Ferran from behind.  The guy hit Arthur so hard it broke skin.  Arthur fell to the ground in pain and bleeding, but was not out of the fight, with a few hits of Arthur's pole he disarmed the guy and took him down to his knees.  Then the guy started to swing at Arthur and incidentally hit his horns.  That caused the guy to bleed, and by that time Arthur was close to passing out.  They both threw a bunch of good hits when Arthur knocked the other guy out cold.  Arthur soon found the same fate as he took a hit from a pole to the back of his head knocking him forward then soon after knocked out.

Arthur awoke in med bay a hour later wounds attended to and found himself being tested to see if he could still fly in the mission.  Soon after the test was finished he was cleared to fly in his mission.  Happy about that news he went to the bar to eat.  On his way he stopped in the other guys room to see how he was doing.  The doctor told Arthur that the guy broke 3 of his fingers.  The dude asked "What did I hit?" as he looked at his hand.

"You grazed one of my horns," Arthur said.

As Arthur left the med bay he decided that he really needed to get some sleep and went right for his room.

ISD Suspense
Typhus System

“Exiting hyperspace in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... Now.”

Commander Shoden sat in his command chair on the bridge of the Suspense as the white/blac/blue vista in front of him changed into the deep black of normal space. He never quite got used to Hyperspace travel, and every time they jumped in/out of that mysterious place he got a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

“All systems are green sir, jump was successful.”

Shoden took the datapad his watch officer handed to him and flicked through the report summary. He liked it when a trip went off without a hitch for a change.

“Good work everyone. Helm, plot a course for the Starbase, have them prepare our supplies. Comms, contact the Typhus HQ, get a route update, along with any extra information that we need.”

He leaned in close to his second in command. “And tell our guests,” He said quietly, “that the door is open.”

------------------------------------------------------

Ibram was sitting on the rim of his cockpit hatch when his comlink beeped. Taking it out of his flightsuit he did a quick check to see if the hanger was still empty.

As per orders, he spoke quietly and briefly. “Go.”

“The Door’s open. They’re waiting for you.”

Ibram still wasn’t sure if he was cut out for stealth duties. It required a certain degree of control that he just never managed to achieve. He took one last look around before donning his helmet. It seemed weird having an empty hangar bay. Even during dry-dock there was always something going on. Personally he suspected it would simply draw more attention to their departure sealing off the entire hangar. Ibram would have to just trust their judgement.

Bringing his fighter online, he opened the squadron frequency.
“Sound off, numbers only.”

“2, go”

“3, go”

“4 is green”

“5 is a go.”

“6, go.”

In order to add extra secrecy to the mission, the roster had been shaken up a bit and everyone was given a number between 1 and 6. Ibram sometimes had trouble remembering who was who.

“Mission is a go.” Ibram said. “Everyone out, single file, form up on the lights.”

Easing his fighter forward, Ibram slowly glided off the hangar deck, and down through the open bay doors. Ibram felt that little rush of excitement whenever he saw space up close like this. He would always feel at home amongst space’s vast expanse, no matter what happened.

He made sure his stealth measures were all in place, and switched on the rear lights. These low power illuminates wouldn’t be bright enough to give away the fighter’s position, unless the enemy was in close. But then if they were in that close, they were all doomed anyway. However, when you’re flying a ship that’s not meant to be seen or heard, you’ve still got to find some way of keeping up with everyone else.

“Radio silence from here on out. Only break if there’s a problem with your gear.”

The high command were very direct with Ibram about the consequences should Viper Squadron’s mission be found out, either by the Dominion or by anyone who doesn’t “need to know”. Their destination was the Typhus’ other moon, where the Indigo was waiting in the shadow under black out. As soon as the squadron entered the shadow, Ibram was to switch on his short range beacon, thus alerting the ship to their presence.
Everything was going fine until his comms beeped. It wasn’t supposed to do that... no if they were as hidden if they thought they were. He tried ignoring it.

Beep.

Oh frak, he thought. He could almost smell his demotion.
Beep.

Ibram clicked on the communicator, thinking he could talk his way out of this.

“..hello?”

“Thought you’d try ignoring me eh? That’s no way to treat an old friend,” the voice crackled back at him. It only took Ibram a moment to realise who it was.

“Gage?”

“The one and only.”

Phineas Gage, sometimes referred to as ‘Sicario’ whenever he was browsing the holonet, was a long standing member of Viper Squadron, and a good friend of Ibrams. After having to spend a few months in hospital after the squadrons more ‘rough’ missions, Phineas was loaned over to the Special Forces division because of his background. It hadn’t even occurred to Ibram that he might be on the Indigo.

“What the Frak are you doing man!?,” he said. “We’re supposed to be in coms silence.”

“Hey, who’s meant to be the escort here? Don’t worry; someone would have to be between us in order to catch our conversation, which is unlikely.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m right above you.”

Ibram looked up to see a TIE Phantom materialise right in front of his eyes. He almost jumped out of his seat.

“Frak me! Not so close!”

“Heh, easy there skipper, I’m a deft hand at this thing.”

“I didn’t think there were any of those left? Didn’t the rebels destroy the tech?”

“Most of it. It’s not as easy to make them anymore, and there is only a handful. These ones were liberated from Thrawn’s arsenal. You know he would have just gotten them blown up anyway...”

Ibram didn’t reply. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

If only Anden were here... then it would almost be a reunion.

--------------------------------------------------------------
Strike-class Cruiser Indigo
Main Hangar Bay

Phineas was already waiting at the bottom of his ladder, grinning like he always did. Ibram smiled back at him as he slid down the ladder. The estranged pilot saluted.

“Sir! May I be the first to welcome you aboard the Indigo sir!”

Ibram grinned again and saluted back before shaking his hand.
“It’s good to see you again Phin, how’ve you been?”

“Never better sir, never better. I’m looking forward to coming home again.”

“Home? You’re transferring back to us?” That was good news. Ibram was running short of veterans to help keep the new people in line.

“Yes indeed sir. Me and my partner are going to be accompanying you on this mission, then we’re becoming Vipers. Come on, I’ll introduce you to her.”

Ibram and Phinease walked over to where the rest of the squadron had gathered. Everyone seemed to be in good cheer, which was always good when starting out on a dangerous mission.

It also meant that when the un-expected happened, it could very well tear their hearts out.

Meanwhile, the Indigo silently slipped into hyperspace, leaving nothing behind to suggest that it even existed...

OOC:

Instructions in the main topic

Holy frak it’s been awhile, Phineus mused, I can’t wait to see the squadron again.

Phineus Gage paced through the dark, eye wincing corridors of the Indigo. The carrier, specializing in stealth, was operating under the radar. Its interior lighting was restricted to yellow glow rods on each side of every corridor’s floor panels, lighting the way to every single location on the ship. Occasionally, a red, green, and blue glow rod system could be found, which lead the way to certain locales such as the mess hall, medical facilities, and refresher rooms. Even though the ship’s lighting system was quite clear and understandable, Phineus tended to get lost quite often.

As Phin awkwardly made his way from corridor to corridor, he eventually found himself standing directly in front of the matte black door to his cramped cabin. To the right of the door, shoulder high, was a security terminal which scanned the user’s thumbprint and awaited a key code before allowing itself to open. Phineus constantly mused over how overdone it was, how much overkill was put into such tedious adventures such as opening one’s cabin door. However, Phineus was also quite lazy, and the fact that all this work had to put in just to be able to lie down on his bunk was enough to get him quite annoyed. Even though it pained him to do so, Phin pressed his thumb against the dark pad, which suddenly blinked to life in a fluorescent flash of greens and blues. Once the scan was complete, he entered his six digit security code, and the door rose open with a silent swoosh.

“It’s about time,” a light voice flowed smoothly from inside the cabin, which was as small as two, possibly three containment cells and featured a bunk-bed, a small mahogany night table, and two chairs barely suitable for young Rodian children as its only décor.

Phineus smirked his trademark smile, “I-“

“Got lost again?” The female voice spoke once again, half sarcastically.

The door swooshed close behind Phineus as he placed the tray of mediocre food onto the night table with both tiny chairs placed on either end, and let out a small chuckle, “I didn’t say that.”


“You didn’t have to,” the voice said.

The soft voice belonged to Cali’reharn, Phin’s naval partner for the current mission. She was a Twi’lek, with stunning green eyes that could pierce through the thickest of durasteel; a trait that the two of them shared.

As Phineus took his seat, he pulled out a data pad and began thumbing through the various folders it featured just for this mission.

“I hate how much filler there is,” Cali said, referring to the files, “which is mine?” She asked as her eyes danced around the tray.

“I figured we could share,” Phin replied, “there’s a lot here as it is and it looks like it’s going to be a long night,” Phineus indicted the multitude of encrypted files he would have to work through to make an attempt to sort the information received from their reconnaissance missions.

“So what do we have so far?” Cali inquired.
Phineus shrugged, “Not a lot. We’ll need to make another run in the morning.”

Cali took a healthy bite of her banthaloaf, chewed and swallowed the tough meat, and said, “I take it we won’t be getting much sleep tonight?”

Phin thumbed off the data pad, swallowed a sip of caf, and shook his head, “Not much at all.”

The hours slowly passed as Phineus and Cali scanned over countless reports that they gathered over their recon activity. As Phineus glanced through his files, he couldn’t help but question the coordinates to which they were assigned to fly over and scout. His face slowly but steadily fell into a confused gaze or non-understanding and questioning.

“Something the matter, sir?” Cali asked shyly.

Phineus let a few moments pass as he tried to remain focused on his thoughts, while attempting to formulate a responsive statement, “Something just seems out of place.”

Cali half-stood from her chair and inched a bit closer to Phineus and his data pad. Phineus turned his chair ninety degrees so that the two were shoulder to shoulder and could both fully see and understand the map his eyes were dancing around.

“See here,” he asked as he tapped his metallic right index finger against the bottom left of the glowing screen; sprinkling a frosted blue into the dim room. “This is the area where most reports have flown in from.”

Cali nodded, “Right.”

“Now, watch this.”

With a quickened tap of his left, human thumb, the screen blinked a reddish hue, indicating various locales of which recon would be most necessary.

“I managed to splice a few systems here and there, and gathered up this information, strictly confidential,” Phineus said with a face still centered on confusion, yet determination. “This information is intricate to our operation, yet it’s been withheld from us.”

“And this information is?” Cali asked.

“The hot spots of activity. So far, we’ve been given coordinates and objectives to scout and report back.”

“Correct,” Cali replied.

“Now, take a look at this.”

Another thumbed motion onto the screen garnered a fluorescent green line weaving through various locales of the map.

“The green represents the path of the coordinates we’ve been instructed to do work over,” Phineus said, as he glanced into Cali’s eyes to gauge her reaction.

“It doesn’t even touch the red areas,” Cali stated as she blinked a confused look.

“Exactly,” Phineus whispered softly, his voice a soft, albeit rough tone as though he had just awoken in the middle of a cold night. “I just can’t understand why we’re being sent to the outskirts, far from the hot zones.”

Cali looked up and to her right, as her eyes scanned Phineus’ face. A thick shadow of stubble lingered rather neatly on his face; and his hair, which had grown past the Mohawk he shortly sported and into a lengthened, smooth yet simultaneously scruffy rag of thick hair which came to a stop just in front of his deep brown eyes, which could be mistaken for a hazel base in the right lighting.

“Maybe there’s a reason, possibly to scout out more hot zones, just to check our boundaries,” she attempted.

Phineus smirked and nodded as though he were proud of his new underling, “That’s actually a pretty damn good point, Crewman, I didn’t think of that.”

Phineus thumbed past a few tabs of various documents on his data pad, and ended up at the green text, black background of the home page. He read the time and realized he had to be awake and energized in five hours to welcome in new arrivals on the Indigo, to which he was exceedingly ecstatic about.

“Take a few hours of rest, the new squadron will be here tomorrow morning,” Phineus proclaimed.

Cali stood from her chair not a second after Phineus did, and thumbed off her own data pad, “Which squadron is that?” She asked.

Phineus smiled and exuberated a soft chuckle, “Just a rag-tag group of old buddies I used to fly with, like to call themselves Viper Squadron.”

-4 hours and 20 minutes later-

He prepared himself so well that one would think he’d been awake for hours on end perfecting his appearance; and have guessed that he’d been up for a few hours before that just to have gained enough energy to put that much effort into his look. He was excited, a bit nervous and shaky, but most of all felt an awkward sense of safety in the fact that within ten or so standard minutes, his name would be called over the intercom, being told to report to his TIE Phantom in order to welcome in and escort Viper squadron. He straightened out his flight suit as much as possible, fixed his hair one last time, and exited the refresher, back into his cabin.

Cali had caught a glimpse of Phineus, and almost didn’t recognize him. His face was clean shaven, his skin as smooth as a child’s. His hair was hanging down and tightly combed down to his left eye; an elegant, albeit boyish look. His suit, from head to toe, was perfectly creased; quite the oddity for the usually more casual Gage. He had even taken the time to spray a little bit of cologne on.

“You seem pretty anxious to see your old friends,” Cali acknowledged.

“I guess I am,” Phineus said with one-hundred percent surety that he was. “My former commanding officer, especially. I used to be his XO, prior to my health problems and reassigning.”

Cali raised her brow, “I’ve heard a few brief tales on those health problems. I heard you fell through a vent?”

Phineus chuckled, checked his appearance one last time, and pivoted to exit the cabin, “That’s a matter of confidentiality. Now c’mon, we need to heat up the engines before we depart.”

“Aye.”

-Later-

“Yes indeed, sir,” Phineus remarked to Ibram, “Me and my partner are going to be accompanying you on this mission, then we’re becoming Vipers. Come on, I’ll introduce you to her.”

Phineus swelled with happiness upon seeing some of his old comrades. The transition was seamless; he and Ibram had conversed just as easily as they once did; if not easier, now that Phineus and Mira weren’t causing any trouble like they did back during Phin’s XO days.

Phineus and Ibram walked steadily through the crowd of pilots who were all in high spirits, “So you’ve been doing recon work in this sector? How’s the Phantom fly?” Ibram asked.

“Yeah, extremely detail-less covert-ops; everything’s on an understandably ‘need to know’ basis,” Phin replied. “The Phantom holds up pretty well; you start to feel a steady shutter when you push her to its limits, but she keeps things nice and quiet.”

“I’m sure your shoddy piloting has made the techies and brass a bit nervous,” Ibram joked, “you’re not exactly what I would call a stealthy pilot.”

Phineus and Ibram shared a short chuckle, followed by a sharp clearing of the throat by Phin, “Well, luckily I fly with just Cali, so they don’t see all the unnecessary maneuvers I make.” Ibram glanced downward at the floor, shaking his head with a wide grin being bred on across his face.

“How’s the Fortis doing?”

“I left it under control of Xerxes and the gang, they’re doing fine, keeping operations under control and what have you,” Phin replied.

As Ibram nodded in understanding, the two of them arrived in front of Cali, who was making some adjustments to her TIE with a couple of techies.

“Ibram, I’d like you to meet my partner in arms, Cali'reharn. Cali, this is my former commander, Ibram Tyrol,” Phin introduced.

The two shook hands, and Ibram muttered, “Sorry you had to get stuck with him.”

Cali smirked after flashing a glance towards Phineus, “The stories I’ve been told are much worse than his behavior.”

“Yeah,” Ibram snickered, “just wait until he feels comfortable enough around you to act like the bantha’s ass he is.”

“Alright, alright,” Phin cut in, out stretching his mechanical right arm out in front of the two, “no scaring away my partner.”

Cali smiled, quickly thanked the two techies that had been modifying her TIE, and returned her gaze to the two gentlemen in front of her, “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to digging through recon info.”

Ibram and Phineus returned the sharp salute Cali gave them prior to her turning and leaving. Ibram took a few steps before turning his body around in front of Phineus’, “Phineus, as much as I hate to admit this, you’re one of the few veteran’s I’ve got. And for some naïve reason, I trust you. I was wondering if you’d return to your executive officer position once this mission is through and you return home with us.”

Phineus tried his best to hold back his feelings of pride and sense of accomplishment from showing on his soft features, but couldn’t prevent them from dictating just how short of a time it would take from responding, “I’d be honored.”

The air looming and poorly circulating around the hangar stunk of sweaty pilots who were in dire need of a wash and new clothes; coupled with the stinging scent of fuel and the overwhelming smell of space, which would remain a poor bedfellow with its sweet and bitter effect on the nose. However, Phineus was sure that there was nowhere he’d rather be; and he looked forward to taking to the skies with his comrades once again.

“It’s good to have you on the team, again, pilot,” Ibram said with a clap on Phin’s left shoulder.

Phineus’ face portrayed a proud grin as Ibram walked past him, leaving Phin staring out of the hangar’s view port.

This is going to be fun.

__________________________________________________

Words- 2,158

Korant was still in a state of exhilaration when he felt someone running into him.  What the hell he thought to himself as he turned round.  He saw her and he realised he should have figured out who it was as she had run into him once before.

“Hey there, Flyboy” said Cadie

“Hi Cadie, where are you headed?” asked Korant.

They chatted amongst each other and decided to head down to the cafeteria.  Korant glanced around at the various food options and wasn’t overly impressed.  He ended up picking something light and they sat down.  Several other pilots were in their own small huddles.

Korant looked at Cadie and she seemed very restless.  She started talking about finding the bar area and going for a drink.  A drink right about now sounded like the most wonderful thing Korant could think of.  Then his sensible side kicked in.  They were in the part where they could be called into action in a moment’s notice.  He reminded Cadie of such a thing as she agreed although Korant could tell that she wasn’t very happy about it.

“Don’t get used to being right around me, cause usually I’m the one that’s right” stated Cadie.

Korant couldn’t help but let out a small smirk.  He thought that there would be many more times during there spell in Viper squadron where he would be right but he decided not to say anything as he was sure that Cadie would not agree.

“A gym then?” queried Cadie

Korant shook his head as he couldn’t believe how fidgety this woman was. “You really don’t like sitting still do you.”

Cadie smiled. “No I really don’t”.

“Let’s go” said Korant.

Together they wandered through the halls of the ship.  It wasn’t a very large ship but it still took them some time before they finally got to the gym.  Korant glanced around and it was impressively kitted out.  He also noticed the sticks that they had been using in the fight earlier and he hoped never to see anything like that here.

Korant was looking to see what he was going to make use of.  He saw some heavy weights and thought that it was a good place to start but Cadie tapped his shoulder.  He glanced over at her and from the glint in her eyes.  He knew that she had something else in mind.

“You want to do some wrestling?” asked Cadie.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt you” replied Korant.

Cadie stifled a laugh and replied “in your dreams Flyboy, come on”.

With that Korant slipped his jacket off his shoulders and joined Cadie on the training mat.

Strike-class Cruiser Indigo

A pile of datapads and datacards stacked haphazardly on atop of one another teetered on the edge of the chair. Turning her back to world, her eyes screwed up like the implosions of stars as the inevitable crash of the classified information toppled to the sticky floor in a cacophony of naval intelligence. Cali could not even push out a sigh in the stale air of her shared cabin.

She had always preferred the less technologically innovative method of keeping all her information stored on reams of durasheet. After a time what was recorded on its glossy surface would fade away, neither to be remembered or corrupted. Data was too susceptible to corruption and error. People would slice and dice encryption, distorting the galaxies communication, changing the words, variables and values of people's deepest thoughts. Though she had often tinkered with machines as a youth she was not at ease with the idea that this concept of Cali'rehan as a mass of data existed. She did not like to think that was a record and archive of information and figures which was increasingly open to will of others and their manipulation. Maybe she could convince her X/O to adopt a durasheet friendly office.

And maybe the destruction of the galaxy isn't going to happen she thought sardonically. The Imperial system was all for having files on you, keeping you on their system. She had heard many rumors of citizens of the Empire disappearing in a blip. At what point, she wondered, was the act one of a political removal or just a genuine malfunction of the system.

She should really clear the mess up. It was easier than trying to figure it 'all out' she reasoned as she awkwardly swung her legs from the top alcoved bunk. As her legs flashed round they knocked another equally impressive pile of datacards over. Down came the obelisk from the sway of feminine hips.

The convenient and often unappreciated etymology of her language meant that there was always a specific phrase on hand for expressing her sentiments towards a situation. Cursing as she slid off the mattress, her hand groveled along the steely black floor brushing the pads and cards into loose pilings according to what she thought was the correct allocation of data. Having reassembled her empire she deposited herself without the grace afforded to her figure upon the lower bunk and stared blankly at the seductive mid-point vision of nothingness.

-----------------------
5 Hours before

'...not anymore ok?'

'Well I suppose it's not like we need anymore techies kicking around the place.' His eyes are always so full and we've been at this for hours she thought in her mixture of envy and admiration.

'We're just tin-men and I would rather face a blaster any day than an overenthusiastic techie with a macrofuser.' Her words where soft but rang out hollow and unsure.

'What are you trying to imply crewman 'reharn?' Her cabin-mate and superior raised his right hand and flexed his fingers slowly in a roll as if fanning himself from the heat of the cabin.

'Oh s-sor, I didn't mean for you to think – was it a marco...? I mean techies are, y'know, often given to eccentricities when it comes to their utensils.' Perhaps it was time to fall back on her native tongue as barring her from the correct words and sense of them. It always seemed to throw the other person off.

'Shall we return to our briefs?' He was equally awkward as herself in this naval ritual. His bunched shoulders seemed emphatic to her fidgety 'braintails' as they snapped back and forth.

With a nod they returned to their readings in silence. The failing ventilation unit whirled unconvincingly in the near distance. Its monologue was that of an old man trying to remember a song from his past, every time it started up it would have to stop mid-lyric to claw the next phrase from the recesses of his memory.

She noticed that Phinues was using his own personal datapad, a Karoutsu or Charoshi, something like that. Either way it was more impressive than her standard issue. She had already managed to scratch parts of its casing and had jammed the interface several times whilst she had been in studious preparation during her time in flight school. Wasn't his the model that was linked to illegal distribution of higher-resolution versions of virtual Twi'lek dancer feeds she thought.

She remembered the story from a couple of years back, apparently illicit venues with Black Sun backing would set up viewing cubicles for their clientèle to jack in or off, she wasn't up to date with all the concurrent holonet slang, linking up to virtual streams of extremely personal and candid performances from her enslaved brethren. The Karoushi model was favoured due to its open encryption sourcing that allowed such theaters of vice to tap into an unlimited amount of databanks to create the perfect fantasy to the specifications of their customers. The theory being the organization could utilize existing information of female Twi'leks and encode that data into the modeling program to create a hyper-real dancing slave. She shuddered to think if the Sun had ever got their scaly fingers into her private files – not that she supposed many people, even the scrots of the galaxy, would have a fetish for scarred leku.

'You into hi-res?' She motioned towards the pad his thumbs where furiously caressing.

'Huh? Oh it's good for the realism of the news-feed' He hadn't even looked up from his screen, his eyes just as full as before had an intent captivated look almost like that of possession.

She tried not to be someone who judged, especially not her X/O.
But still...

-------------------------

Realizing that her tongue was clicking in time with the rhythm of old man's melody, Cali thought it was overdue for her to get refreshed and escape the encroaching onset of cabin fever. With her little finger she etched the outline of her old wound. She lazily trailed down her hand to her temples in an attempt to evade all the 'whys' her mind would concoct in a bubbling bantha stew of mental punishment. In an effort to stop baiting herself she leaped up from the lower bunk.

The next sound terrified her more than the blaring alarms of a ship going critical.

Gathering her limited courage she glanced down at the floor. Applying the correct Twi'lek phrase she bent down and scooped up the cracked datapad. It lay limply in her palm. She had never been overly knowledgeable in the micro-component side of mechanics preferring things that required a vibro-wrench. Fortunately during her previous mishap, her kick had dislodge the inserted data-pad. So the mission was still intact at least.

Maybe dancing the Nar Shadda bars would have been less stressful.

---------------

Cali idly ran her hand against the side of the walkway corridor. Her nail ran up and down the gray paneling like a lazy comet spiraling off on its own mystical and incomprehensible orbit. Her thoughts where not on the mission at hand. All the information had been reviewed, the operation field did not seem like it was going to be hot. The Dominion where too rigid in their ideology to pose any real threat to the anyone except maybe the clerks – all those manifestos and polemic journals it was the regurgitation of toy soldiers. The Phantoms would handle the space and all the hidden wraiths within its black robe.

The ship was running on a skeleton crew and as a result the gangways where desolate and deserted. She stopped by one of the power inlet substation and listened through the wall to its muted storm of energy. She could feel it  fluxing and ebbing through out the ship. Ignoring the plethora of warning signs plastered over the door she ducked her head inside and stooped into the empty but cramped engineering console compartment. She ran her hands over the interface only to be greeted by a request for an authorization code.

Clicking her fingers against her chin she tried to imagine what the code would be trying to place herself in the mindset of the technician. She assumed they where a male-human, seeing that was still the main livestock of all Imperial outfits. A lonely small man, possibly taken to memorizing his section's modus operandi as if he where to address the Core senate on matters of war and peace. This little man would no doubt invest all his pride into his daily tasks of checking the energy output of his beloved substation, TE-12. She hunched her shoulders together and buried her chin into her braintails that twitched nervously as if attuning themselves to magnetically current that surrounded her. The Loronar logo circled the screen, mischievously it spurred her childish role play on. Our engineer, she thought, he was hopeless but genuine. He'd probably never been to the inner core systems, just a jumped up farmboy with ideas above his station. She dangled her fingers over the alpha-numeric pad and plunged her digits onto the keys.

The rock is not of this planet but a gift from above.

She pressed the confirmation symbol in a stroke.
The doors shut gently but as the screen reflected a crimson veil over her tan skin, Cali knew she was in trouble.

Korant couldn’t believe just how good Cadie was at the wrestling and that she didn’t have any brothers.  She had already put Korant into a hold that he couldn’t get out of and know that she had released him he was even more determined to get her into a hold.  Suddenly a voice disturbed both of them.

“Unless the two are ready to perform all your combat manoeuvres without getting me killed, I suggest you find a more productive use of your time”.

Both Korant and Cadie glanced up to see who had said that and they saw it was Jolinar.  They immediately stopped their wrestling and watched as Jolinar spun on her heels and walk away.  Korant glanced over at Cadie.

“Whoops” said Cadie.

Korant couldn’t contain himself and started laughing.  Cadie joined in and soon both of them were having a good laugh at it.

“Well I guess we should get some rest before the mission kicks off” said Cadie.

“Yeah, we should.  How about a drink after the missions over?” queried Korant.

“Sure, but you’re buying the first round” replied Cadie.

“Me, how do you work that one out” said Korant.

“Want to wrestle for it?” asked Cadie with a glint in her eyes.

Korant thought about it and remembered just how good she was at the wrestling and decided that it wasn’t worth it and besides which, she would probably win.

“Alright” replied Korant, chuckling softly, “first rounds on me”.

Cadie laughed and Korant walked down the corridors of the ship until they got to her quarters.  Korant watched her enter her quarters before carrying on to his own quarters.  Arriving, he decided to get some well deserved rest. 

Going over to his wash basin, he gave himself a quick wash before he lay down on his bed.  It didn’t take very long before his eyes closed and he dropped into a deep sleep.  It had been a long day and Korant was looking forward to when the mission would begin.

Rutian had arrived about the same time as Sic, his personal Phantom gliding into the hangar completely undetected. He flew without flight suit or helmet, relying on skill of himself and his craft to keep him alive. Alive, now that was a fine joke, Rutian thought to himself; or was it himselves? Rutian sighed as he lept quickly from his vessel in the private hangar. Phantoms were very rare and as a member of Special Forces they were always given priority for secrecy and security. Rutian flashed an evil scowl towards a technician that move towards his ship as if intent on refueling it. Rutian strolled out of the hangar, fingering the metal case that was in his hands.

After making short contact with Sic he headed around the station. Everywhere he went he was followed by the stench of unclean bodies and oils. Every now and again he would pass a female and his fingers would start to twitch and he would roll back his lip to snarl before restraining himself and moving on.

Rutian strolled into the bar and went to sit down. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sic talk with an old friend of his, and chuckled to himself.

Kill

The voice echoed in his head and Rutian immediately he began to open his case before his left hand caught his right in a death grip. The man sitting next to him on a bar stool barely took notice before turning back to his drink. Rutian slowly lowered his hand and sat back down on his stool.

The bartender turned to him from washing a glass with a neutral expression.

"Heya, bud, gimme a whiskey, straight." Rutian said toggling on and off the lock on his case.

"Sorry Ru, I was told not to serve you anymore. You don't pay your bills." The bartender said, little compassion in his voice.

"What.." Rutian said as he began to feel something inside him building up. A chill filled his skin and his whole body as a cold fury began to rise.

"But, he promised! That was Deal! He told me it was taken care of!"

The bartender simply told him he could not put him on tab, regardless of if he had been promised otherwise.

KILL!

The voice roared in his head and everything started to shift a bit. The next thing he knew Sic was there at his side, talking him and the bartender down. Something inside him seemed to drag back down into the depths of his soul. The reason he was usually posted with Sic was his strange ability to bring him back to reality.

Rutian slowly took his whiskey when it was offered to him and drank it down very quickly. It was then that Rutian went to leave from the bar, his face giving off a mild twitch. When he came to eyes with Ibram he stopped dead in his tracks, seeing something there that nobody else probably did. He shook his head and swiftly left the bar.

From the bar he headed towards his quarters, but found himself in some sort of low tech gym, quiet and alone. Rutian set his case across his knees as he bowed and began a long cycle of meditation to control himself.

Holo Log Day 14,
I've been moved into operation Indigo none of these members have really noticed me. I'm eager for the mission to start for now I'm just going to have to keep the simulations up and training until the day comes. END OF HOLOLOG.

fwoom the door slide opened Power-County walked up to his bed and sat down thinking over the tactics of hand to hand combat he had just practiced he lay ed down onto the mattress, head rested on pillow then dozed off.

(Flash back)

boom! Power-County ran around the corner and saw the new Republic soldiers standing in front of the entrance to his Masters home he heard blaster rifles being shot. He ran in with hand on sword and easily took the Enemies with ease he ran into the room and saw 10 soldiers standing around in a circle around his master with a commander in the middle with him he shot Power-County’s friend and master dead.
"Humph that’s all the x-general had in him pathetic piece of crap". The commander gloated.
“You bastard I'm going to kill you"! Power-county screamed in rage.
"ARGGG uhhh grahh" the soldiers screamed in pain as each one of them fell. the commander shot at him, he dodged and charged the commander ran out the back door power-county stopped at the corpse and screamed.

"Huff huff it was a dream" Power-county cried it looked at the clock it was time to go eat break fest then to the simulators.

The briefing was over and Korant walked quietly down to the hangar bay.  Clambering up the ladder he got himself strapped in and slid his helmet over his head.  It wasn’t long before the Vipers were taking off and they were launching.

Korant gazed out through his view port.  The space was so black, so dense that you could almost get lost in it.  He thought back to the briefing room and reprimanded himself.  Sure he was still quite green but why did he not ask anything.  He knew that if he wanted to further his career within the Navy then he would have to be noticed more as well as being a great pilot and he already knew he was a damn fine pilot.

He followed Ibram through a series of turns and knew that they were starting their approach to Rokh.  He had never even heard of Rokh before and he was wondering what was so special about it that it needed a fly past by the Vipers.

Time to get these recorders started thought Korant as he flicked a switch.  Whilst they hadn’t reached Rokh yet, Korant decided that now was as good a time as any to get the recorders started just in case they got into trouble and he became too busy to activate them.

The display console in front of him came to life showing Korant that they had now begun their recording.  Korant flicked the ship onto autopilot, even though he hated those things and gave the equipment a quick run through.  He angled the scanners in on one of the Vipers and zoomed in.  He was startle by the clarity and was able to clearly make out Tinker.  Nice thought Korant as he switched the scanners back to automatic setting.

Korant took the stick of his fighter and turned off the autopilot.  He preferred to fly manually even though right now they were just flying in a straight pattern.  Rokh here we come thought Korant as he looked forward to getting a closer look at it.