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ComNet > Imperial Navy > Archived Naval Story Board > Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
 
 
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Topic:  Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
ZalaVE
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ZalaVE
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 21, 2009 11:53:22 PM    View the profile of ZalaVE 
Viper Squadron Shades Of Grey Leading Crewman ZalaVE's Involvement 1.3

    Zala went back to his private quarters after having a few drinks at the tavern.  He thought to himself that one day he might be able to command a starfighter squadron of his own but he knew that he could not count his chickens until they were hatched.  So he went to go and take nice long hot sower to wash off all the swet that his body had produced due to the dogfight he was in earlier.  He was in the shower for about an hour when the hot water ran out due to him being in the shower for too long. 

    Zala then grabbed his towel from the dresser in his quarters and then dired himself off with it the towel felt as smooth as a feather going down his back after about ten minutes of drying off he finally decided to watch a pod racing game on the television which sat on a small stand a few feet from the foot of his bed.  He then laid down and got himself into a comfortable positionto enjoy the show.  The live on television pod race lasted for about an hour which Zala began to feel tired and then fell asleep.

    It was now about seven o'clock in the morning when Zala's alarm clock started going off telling him to wake up and get ready for work so he did.  He began his morning routine by first hopping in the shower which lasted about then to fifteen minutes, followed by looking at himself in the mirror poping any zits he had on his face, which was soon after followed by turning on his electric razer and shaving all the tiny little hairs off of his face,  after that he ate his breakfast and then brushed his teeth.

    Once Zala was done his morning routine he then put on his Navy uniform and went off to work.  He usually starts his owrk day off with a friendly hello to all of his fellow wingmates of Viper Squadron.  Then he goes to starbase mess hall to grab a cup of coffee with he believes allowes him to remain sane and refreshed thoughout the day.  After he has done his friendly intrduction to all of his wingmates he then goes to the pilots briefing room where he waits for his fellow wingmates to catch up with him so that they can all be debriefed on what their day will be like.
Leading Crewman ZalaVE FM/LCRW ZalaVE/Viper 4/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1W/1FL/VEN/ (=A=)
Tinker
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 25, 2009 1:03:58 PM    View the profile of Tinker 
Cadie stomped through the hallway of the Badejoz station towards Ibram’s office. The datapad still clutched in her very tight fist. She thought today was going to be just like every other day. But no, that was not the way it was turning out.

This morning she had woken up to a beep on her comm. After throwing a nice sized boot at the terminal, she got up and read the squadron’s new orders that had been sent from whoever was causing this mayhem. Nobody else in the squadron new the whole truth about the last mission, except Cadie…and maybe Rutian, since he was hiding in the shadows. Freak. 

The mission on the surface seemed completely benign, but knowing what Cadie knew she could now read between the lines. Ibram didn’t get the wrath last time they talked, but he would be getting it now.

Cadie banged on the door as she approached, then visibly jumped back realizing what she was doing. Banging on your squadron commanders door was never a good idea, unless you loathed promotions. Anyways Cadie was supposed to be setting a good example for the other pilots. Frak, frak, frak. Cadie whispered under her breath looking back and forth in the corridor to find it thankfully disserted.

Cadie was standing looking at the door, willing it to just open when she heard the quiet click. Taking a deep breath she waited a minute to see if Ibram would open the door, but when nothing happened she touched the controls and watched the door slide out of the way revealing the small dark room.

Ibram was sitting back at his desk, looking into his computer terminal. Cadie slowly approached, looking around in every dimly lit corner.

“He’s not here.” Ibram muttered before sipping his ice cold caf.

“I meant to ask before, do you often have Twi’leks hiding in your office?” Cadie smirked. Dammit She had come in the room for answers again, and again she was getting distracted. She needed to watch that, it only seemed to happen around Ibram.

Ibram scoffed and shook his head, sipping more of what must have been some pretty awful caf. “So, you got my message then.” His voice was monotone, and as dark as the room he was sitting in.

“This mission, it has not a damn thing to do with patrolling the supply route to watch out for pirates. The others are…well they don’t get it yet, but they aren’t going to like it either.” Cadie was trying to keep her emotions in check. She had been affected by the news that their last ‘patrol’ mission in the Eastern Territories had been an attack on civilians in disguise. She knew better than to go spreading that kind of information around. Like Ibram had said before, we had a lot of these missions in the near future. That just sent Cadie’s stomach in a knot all over again.

“They are not getting paid to like it, so why should I care.” He looked up at her for the first time then, quickly away as their eyes met.

“You do care.” It was more of a realization than an accusation on Cadie’s part. But looking at him it was impossible not to pick up on the fact that these missions were eating him up just as bad as they were affecting her.

Ibram took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. This was far from great news, considering they launched in one day. “Cadie, listen. There is a lot of pirate activity out here, and the Epsilon system gets a lot of that traffic. So it’s not all that unreasonable that there would be pirates attacking traders on the Keopiva Route.”

“Except there haven’t been any reported attacks in months. Growing up, we used to take that route, not often but it happened.” Cadie sighed and looked at the ground. “So are you really going to tell me we are looking for pirates?”

“I’m telling you what you are going to tell the pilots. The rest, I can’t tell you. I shouldn’t have told you about what happened before.”

Cadie walked around the desk, kneeling with her elbow firm on the top of the table and her head resting in her hand. For the first time she could really see Ibram’s face as she looked up at him. “Okay. I don’t like it, not one bit. And…I’m just not going to shoot down traders. That is not happening. I don’t care. I’ll shoot that witch that I know is the one doing this to you before I kill innocent people, especially traders.”

“I hope you have a choice.” Taking a deep breath Ibram sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. “We have to go, it’s time for the briefing.”


OOC:
Head towards the briefing people.
Chief Petty Officer Cadie "Tinker" Reese
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FL/CPO Tinker/Viper 5/Flight 2/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=A=)(=*SAE*=)[MC:1]

scorpius
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 25, 2009 6:20:15 PM    View the profile of scorpius 
Scorpius woke to the sound of his terminal alarm. He sat up slowly remembering the visit he had for Walter. "Why did he ask about the man my parents owed money?" he wondered to himself. He walked to the bathroom and started the water going on hot. When it warmed up he got in and took a shower.

Afterwards, he got dressed and made some breakfast. As he was finishing the dishes, His terminal sounded the new message beep. He went over and read it. "Crewman Scorpius Black, report to the briefing room."

Scorpius made his bed and left his small apartment. He crossed the courtyard to the building with the briefing room in it, excitedly waiting for his first mission. He was the third person to arrive, Tinker and Ibram, who he knew for the message he recieved welcoming him to Viper were sitting at the table.

Scorpius walked over to them, "Scorpius Black reporting." he said as he threw up a salute.

"Welcome Scorpius." Tinker said distractedly. "Grab some coffee and take a seat. we will beging as soon as the rest of the squad arrives."

Scorpius poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the end of the table, wondering to himself why Tinker seemed so upset.
FM/LCRW Scorpius/Viper 7/PHEONIX/SSD ATRUS/1flt/VEN/VE/(=A=)
Romanflame
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 30, 2009 6:08:10 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
Arthur woke up from his night of "fun" remembering that he lied to his squad mate when he said he was scared to go out on a mission to keep him from having the same feelings Arthur had about the last mission they were on.  Then he quickly decided never to drink again.  The whole morning he was trying to figure out why the freighter did not shot them.  Not even to save themselves from the death them took them over.

When he could not figure it out he decided to go to the gym to do his normal routine.  After he finished up he headed to the cantina for breakfast.  When he started to eat a message came up on his datapad telling him to head for the briefing room for the next mission he almost did not want to go and more likely get barked at by Ibram for disobeying an order then yelling at a superior officer for disobeying the order.  He hoped Ibram would not talk to him and he could go out on the next mission.  He also hoped that Lt. Grey did not hear about it or do anything about it if she did.

Arthur finished eating and began his journey to the briefing room.  When he got there he was one of the last in the room so far no one tried to pull him aside to talk to him.  He figured he might be safe as long as he would be able to leave the room without talking to anyone. 

Arthur sat in the back by himself and saw another Zabrak in the Squad who look like someone he saw on Iridonia before he left.  Then Arthur heard the squad talking among themselves about what he said to Zala last night.  He hoped they would all by what was said and leave him alone for awhile as he sorted out his feelings over the last mission.  So far they all bought it as far as he could tell, but he was not fully accustom to Human, and Twi’leks reactions and their signs.
FM/LCRW Arthur/Viper 6/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE
[This message has been edited by Romanflame (edited August 30, 2009 6:27:02 PM)]
ZalaVE
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 30, 2009 9:49:44 PM    View the profile of ZalaVE 
Viper Squadron Shades Of Grey Leading Crewman ZalaVE's Involvement 1.4

    Once briefed ZalaVE goes and hanges out with his fellow wingmates to see what they are doing.  After he does that he finally goes onto his daily working routine.  Zala starts his work routine off by checking the systems of his fighter to see if they are in working order but if they are not if working order he must follow standerd procedure and request that a flight engineer take a look at it and see what the problem is.  So Zala wemt to the receptionarea of the hanger and asked to speek to a mechanic reguarding the technical problems that his TIE Intercepter was having. 

    So the starfighter mechanic walked over to Zala's starfighter to see what all the racket was about.  It seemed to the mechanic that Zala'a starfighter had been through alot of recent fighting and one of the aft engines had to bereplaced due to heavy usage.  The mechanic told Zala that the repairs to his starfighter would take at least two days which ment that he could not take part in any squadron sorties until the repairs on his starfighter were done.  But Zala began to think on the bright side, at least he would be able to kck back and relax. 

    Two days had now past and the repairs to Zala's starfighter had been completed and it was tie for him to go down to the main hanger and try to test fly his starfighters new engines.  Once down in the hanger Zala walked right to his recently repaired starfighter and then ran his hand acorss the side of it and had felt the smoothness of the fresh and new paint job that the starfighter had recieved earlier that day.  Then Zala climbed into his starfighter and started it up to see weather it would explode or not but fortunatly for Zala it didn't and he felt relieved about it too. 

    After he had test flew his recently repaired starfighter Zala then decided to check on his fellow wingmates to see how ther day went and so on and he did.  Once Zala had arrived at the enlisted VE Navy officers club he was in vited by the rest of Viper Squadron to have drink on the house.  While this was happening he was being asked questions like did your test flight go okay etc.  After the the evening had ended everyone icluding Zala decided to get some shut eye due to lack of sleep from doi so many missions.
Leading Crewman ZalaVE FM/LCRW ZalaVE/Viper 4/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1W/1FL/VEN/ (=A=)
bjorkfrid
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
August 31, 2009 7:55:29 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
Cali left the briefing in silence; her drink of infused herbs remained behind placed on the dura-plastic table in the dimly lit conference room going cold from her indifference. Just like she was growing cold, she thought almost as if from another perspective, an onlooker peering into her private drama. This detached audience would have judged her an ice-hearted pawn. What could Cali do? What could any one do in such shady circumstances?

--------------------
Earlier
Badajoz Station

All active members of Viper squadron had been herded into a tiny, cluttered room that passed for their debriefing. Some of the new recruits had arrived early, no doubt to scope out the contemporaries and make that all important good first impression. Despite her rank, Cali had arrived with only seconds to spare. Her late night splicing escapades had penalized her body the following morning as she had barely been able to raise her body, heavy with fatigue, from her bunk. Upon entering the room she immediately focused upon an uncanny familiar figure.  It couldn’t be, she thought, stopping in her movements dumbfounded by her realization.

It was Rutian.

He stood with an impish gaunt, wearing a robe that was equally ridiculous as those worn by Kyrios. Did these guys really think the attire of fifty years ago was the new thing to be had? The way the Twi’lek wore his robe was without the feigned dignity of her wingman Kyrios. There was no pomposity to his gait only an unnerving aura that threatened the very atmosphere of the briefing room.  Summoning her remaining energy, Cali regained her composure. She flashed a glance towards the remaining Twi’lek, Jolinar, who hadn’t seemed to notice that she had entered the room. That was a small blessing considering that Jolinar would have no doubt caught onto Cali’s twitch of fear and stunned disbelief from her lekku.  Cloaked, Rutian stood like a member of the Crimson guard next to Ibram who frankly looked a wreck.  The man was without his usual reserve, the restraint required to lead and to inspire. Instead he was slouched in his chair with a cup of caf that he was reflectively nursing, probably to avoid making eye contact with any of his flight. He too must have been another casualty to lack of the innocence of sleep.

Cali followed her leader and refused to make eye contact with Rutian. His eyes where a constant flicker making the task in itself impossible. She slunk to rear of the room and perched next Jolinar. Several flicks of their respective brain-tails was enough to establish that neither where feeling swell. Cali placed her hastily prepared herbal infusion on the table in front of her spilling it as her eyes had yet adjusted to the dank lighting of the room. This must have been what it had been like for the rebels, she thought, hastily thrown together meetings and plotting in the most unlikeliest and unappealing of places. Accept that she or none of her fellow pilots demonstrated the belief or charisma of a Crix Madine.

“We’re all here and accounted for?” Ibram spoke with croak, clearing his throat as he stood addressing his slumped cohorts.

There was a murmured response. He guessed it was an affirmative one.

“OK, first order of business. I would like to welcome back Senior Petty Officer Rutian to Viper.”

The thing, hissed in response in a hideous display of personal elation.

“Quite. Also Tinker and Cali you've new bloods amongst you and as your squadron commander I would like to personally welcome all you new guys to Viper. If anyone has a query regarding their orientation or problems with the detail, then please direct it to your respective flight leader. They are our matrons in the wings.” He gestured towards Cadie and Cali. Tinker managed an embarrassed wave, Cali wasn’t even aware to what he was saying. The new recruits managed a short chuckle. It was needed.

Ibram stood there in silence with a hand behind his back that shook ever-so slightly. The room was stale. He seemed choked by the grime.

“Given the success of previous operation we've garnered a new light into the pirate activity in the Epsilon system,.”

This was news to Cali. Cadie practically bulked at the word. Pirates, no-one had even mentioned pirates. 

“We have been assigned as the detail to escort a small convoy in the neighboring mining colony on Espilon Beta. The colony has always retained the ethos of the Separatists even once the clones had cleansed the system.”

These where words that reminded everyone in the room the capabilities of an Empire. Efficiency spurned by a desperate insecurity of power.

“We’re going to have to keep a low a profile on this one folks. That’s why we'll be coming in on the southern hemisphere of the planet and flying low through a network of canyons until we rendezvous with the convoy. This way we’ll stay in the shadows from any radar systems they might have. Now it’s understood that the colony is employing these pirates,”

The word stuck awkwardly in his throat.

“As a temporary militia given the disputed allegiance of the system to ensure security from other pirates and the like.”

“Pirates protecting people from other pirates?” It was a new voice. It belonged to Jake Logan. The new recruit assigned to Cali’s wing. His voice rang with a thick Coruscanti accent making her lekku twitch in unconscious annoyance.

“This isn’t like the old days crewman,” Ibram paused and looked at his datapad,”Logan. With vying power play between crime syndicates within the system and what with the failure of the New Republic to get their fingers stretched out this way it's very vulnerable to the advances of even the lowliest of vagabonds.”

His response seemed to have silenced the new recruit who remained sat up straight awkwardly with quite clearly something still to add. He, however, thought against going toe to toe with his superior. That wouldn’t be a good first impression whatsoever.

“We believe they might be jamming short-range frequency in order to give the impression to the mining colony that population is being led to believe that they're being frozen out of communcation by an exteroir threat. This is puting the whole colonoy on constant alert. That way the pirates can justify their presence and their necessary employment. Once we make contact with the  convoy we are to escort it quietly and quickly to a classified evacuation point. If we can get some of the locals off planet then maybe we can get their eyes open to the reality of the situation. None of you will know the co-ordinates until we’re hot so I don’t want any unnecessary detours whilst we’re out there.  We’re to fly straight and true. Stick to what I say.”

With his final words he shot a glance towards Cadie and lingered over Arthur.  The Zabrak was still like stone statue it was hard to discern if he was even breathing.

“All detail we have, and its limited will be zapped to datapads within the rotation so until then don’t go astray and be ready to ship out once you get your info. I’ve got orders from above to keep this one close to my chest so apologies for keeping you all in the dark.”

Some members of the squadron rose assuming Ibram was finished started to rise from their respected slumped positions. Ibram stood up with a hand raised in objection; again, he cleared his throat with a rasp matching Rutian’s cackle.

“One more thing Viper, we shouldn’t be expecting any engagement but in the unlikely circumstance we should then take no prisoners. No disabling just engage to disengage the enemy. Understood?”

No-one replied. Cadie started towards the door in a blur, as she left she shot a glance back towards her superior with a short, clipped and venomous yes. Ibram mumbled a good in response and quickly made his departure angling himself in the opposite direction of the red-head who had already cleared the corridor of the rickety spacestation.

Cali stood up. Her eyes meet with him, Rutian. His lekku twitched in glee and he showed his teeth like an animal awaiting his prey. She shot her lekku straight down her back like lighting in a display of disapproval and defiance. In a rare display she displayed her teeth just like children learning to play-fight. He seemed spurred on by gesture and his skin seemed to bristle with excitement. With the combination of disgust from what Ibram had just said and the return of this excuse for a pilot Cali needed space from everything associated with this dank depressing room. Her serving crewman Jake made a motion towards, obviously keen to make his impression and get his orientation. She barely saw the stocky human in the corner of her eye and managed only to mis-project her vehemence in his direction. If he was repulsed, he his it well. He lowered his shoulders and instead walked on and fell in alongside with Jolinar who nodded in recognition. They left together. Cali mentally spat in the direction of Rutian and left the hastily constructed conference room.

Her drink of rankly mixed herb wouldn’t be required and it remained on the dusty table going cold. She already had a bitter taste in her mouth.
FL/PO2 Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited September 1, 2009 10:39:27 AM)]
Tinker
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 7, 2009 6:42:43 PM    View the profile of Tinker 
Cadie stormed out of the briefing room, causing a number of unsuspecting crewmen to jump out of her way in the hall. She secretly smirked to herself. The truth was she loved getting that reaction out of people, she preferred for them to be a little scared of her than automatically thinking they were her friend.

Cadie skidded to a halt in front of the cantina, breathing hard. She wanted to go in, and spend the rest of the night drinking herself into oblivion. With a rather nasty curse, Cadie turned and ran almost directly into Roman. The zabrak didn't look much happier than Cadie felt.

“Arthur.” Cadie growled his name and made a move to walk around him towards her quarters. He moved in front of her.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Cadie raised her eyebrow, and moved over towards the wall to lean against it. “I will assume you are taking about the briefing.” He nodded slowly. “Okay, it's simple. We are flying in through the canyons, sticking close to the dirt to avoid detection by the unfriendlies. Then we are going to escort some nice miners who can't seem to get their comms working properly, through pirate infested space to a location none of us are important enough to know.” Cadie shrugged. “What's complicated about that?”

Arthur looked extremely agitated for a zabrak. “I meant the part where Ibram wants us to shoot anything that moves., Tinker.”

“Well.” Cadie put her hands in her pockets and rolled until her back was against the wall to avoid Roman's eyes. “He said if we encounter enemies. We may not.”

With a 'pfft' sound Roman stomped off in the direction he was already facing, leaving Cadie still resting against the wall. She did her job, she did not give him any reason to suspect anything, but the whole squadron was starting to suspect things were not has they seemed. She really wasn't sure what Ibram expected her to do about that.

Cadie ran a hand through her hair. If she wasn't going to drink, she needed to do something constructive. With a long sigh, Cadie lazily pushed off the wall and headed towards the hanger. She nodded briefly at Cali who was passing her with a curious expression. The very last thing Cadie wanted to do was talk about anything at the moment. She needed some time to herself to sort out her own head.

Walking into the hanger, Cadie was greeted with hundreds of familiar smells. Nothing felt more like 'home' than being around a hanger full of ships. She walked over to her TIE and ran her fingers along the bottom of the hull. The mechanics were working on various projects, luckily none of the projects being Tinker's viper.

Grabbing a random part one of the crew had left out to repair, Cadie walked over to the workbench behind the TIE and sorted through the tools. She grimaced as she worked. It didn't matter the nature of the repair, or how much she missed her tools back on Nar Shadda. She had other things on her mind at that moment.

The mission was not going to be as easy as it sounded. Cadie remembered traveling those same ways as a child with her parents. And knowing what had just happened on the previous 'patrol' mission just made it all the more clear that something else was going on this time too.

The sound of a shuttle taking off caught Cadie's attention. She recognized some of the markings and started to grip the hydrospanner so hard Cadie was sure she drew blood. Grey. If there was one woman in the galaxy that could infuriate Tinker beyond comprehension it was Lieutenant Grey.

With a look that would scare away most children, Cadie turned back to the part which was now fixed. It wouldn't stay that way for long if she didn't step back. Cadie's fists were clinched and any relaxation she had managed from keeping her hands busy was long gone. With a huff she turned on her heels and headed back towards the dorms. If she ran into Ibram along the way she was going to talk to him, she needed to talk to someone before she punched a hole through a wall.
Chief Petty Officer Cadie "Tinker" Reese
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FL/CPO Tinker/Viper 5/Flight 2/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=A=)(=*SAE*=)[MC:1]

Romanflame
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 11, 2009 2:46:41 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
As soon as the briefing was over Arthur got out of that room as fast as he could so he did not have to talk to Ibram.  He was heading for the cantina to get some grub when he almost ran into Cadie  he need to get some info from her hoping to get it he stopped her from avoiding the question he believed she knew was coming.

Not overly excited about the response he was given he left to find something else to do, because he figured she was going to enter the cantina.  Arthur found his way to the gym to vent.  He spent the next half hour in there.  When his stomach was begging for food he headed back to the cantina hoping that no one would bother him.  He took a seat in the back and order a fine cut of steak, raw.  It only took a few minutes for it to arrive.

He got up the his table when he was finished and went to play a few rounds of Dejarik.  He was into his fourth game when a bar fight started he did care about the fight till the guy he was playing jumped into the fight.  Then all Arthur did was sit back and enjoyed the fight.  He slowly walked to the bartender and handed him the spices for his drink.  Arthur grabbed his drink and sat back at the table waiting for the other guy.

The fight went on till the guards broke it up.  There was pieces of glass and wood everywhere so they had to close that part the the cantina.  The guards came over to Arthur to take him away for being a part, the bartender told them that he was not part of it and was waiting for the other player they started to leave.  When the guy he was playing was taken away by the guards he hit the reset button and waited for another player.  He played another six games, when he decided to play a few rounds of Sabacc.

He sat down at the table and was dealt his hand.  He looked around the table to try to read the other players.  He saw five other people at the table.  There was one drinking a Corellian whiskey, another had a Gizer ale. Two were smoking, and the third was talking to a woman at the next table not paying attention to the game the the dealer had to tell him when he was up.  By the time he left the cantina he had made 1000 credits, and the full effect of his tea was taking in so he quickly got to his room to sleep off the effects. 

An hour later Arthur woke up to a buzzing sound coming from his pad telling him he had a message.  He checked his messages to find one from an old friend of his.  Now that Arthur was awake he went to sit in his ship to make sure everything he might need was there.  He also did a last minute inspection of the ship.  When all was well he figured he hop into the simulator and get a few runs at what he figured would be useful in the near future.
FM/LCRW Arthur/Viper 6/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE
ZalaVE
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 11, 2009 9:31:53 PM    View the profile of ZalaVE 
Once Roman was done in the simulator Zala walked up to him and asked him he was finished training so he could use it.  Roman replied with a yes and allowed Zala to give it a try.  Zala then hoped right into the simulator to practice some manouvers.  After he was finished he went to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat and something to drink to refresh himself.  After lunch Zala then went to the hanger to check on the condition of his starfighter.  In the hanger Zala had noticed that there were some modifications made to his starfighter.

    Zala looked all throughout his starfighter to check out the new modifications it had recieved.  After he was done that he went back to the briefing room and looked over the mission plan over and over again.  About an hour later after studying the mission plan Zala went back to the mess hall again to grab himself a cup of coffee.  About fifteen minuutes later after finishing his cup of coffee Zala went to go check on his fellow wingmate to see how they were doing and to see what they were doing in particular.  But as it turned out they were doing just fine.

    So after checking on everyone and everything Zala went back to his quarters to have a little nap to catch up on any sleep he had missed the night before.  After about two hours of naping Zala awoke to a quiet room which felt to him like a dream.  He then hoped to his feet and went back to work on the same things he was doing before.  After finishing up the work he was doing Zala decided to take the iniiative and went to
Leading Crewman ZalaVE FM/LCRW ZalaVE/Viper 4/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1W/1FL/VEN/ (=A=)
Skorge
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Skorge
 
[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
Post Number:  19
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 13, 2009 7:50:23 PM    View the profile of Skorge 
Skorge leaves the make-shift briefing room with the others. When he enters the hall way he looks around and sees his flight leader Cali, she looks a little displeased about something, Skorge found it wise not to ask. He makes his way down the hallway nodding at the other members of Viper Squadron. He feels the need to introduce himself, but after a debriefing like that, everyone seems tense and a little upset. Not only that but another new guy in the briefing room, made a fool of himself, Skorge intended not to do the same.

Skorge goes over the debriefing in his head. Something didn’t set right with him. First, we need to be discrete and fly under the radar. Second, we have to escort transports, Skorge likes to attack targets, not fly around escorting transports and wait to be attacked. Skorge knew that what ever happened, his first mission with Viper Squadron would not be an easy one. Good he thought, there was one thing that gave Skorge some comfort, Ibram’s last orders. Kill, do not disable, engage the enemy and pulverize them. Skorge liked that idea, why disable an enemy anyway. Just kill him or her so that they can’t return the favor. One other thing made Skorge have an odd feeling, Ibram, was holding something back from the Vipers. Skorge knows that most information is given on a “need to know basis” but it still rubbed him the wrong way. Skorge shakes the thought from his mind, and reassures himself. “All I need to do is to keep my mind on the mission and my squadron, but get the job done... at all costs. Plus Ibram and those ranked above Skorge know what they are doing, that much is obvious.

As Skorge made his way down the hallway, he heard a female voice come from behind him, and whoever she was didn’t sound happy.

“Crewman…” It was Tinker, she searched her data pad for and found Skorge. ”Crewman Skorge, is something bothering you?”

The Mandalorian snaps a crisp salute, and instantly snapped to attention, “Ma’am, no ma’am, just thinking about the mission. I’m itching to get some kills.” Replied Skorge

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you will.” With that Tinker continued down the hallway. She does not look happy. 

Skorge watches her leave, and reminds himself to stay on her and for that matter, everyone else in Viper Squadron’s good side. After a few minutes, Skorge decides to head toward the bar, and see what kind of drinks they serve here on the station. Afterward he’ll head toward the simulator to focus himself and train for the mission. Maybe get some sleep, if he can, too many things are running through his head.
I hear voices in my head they council me, they understand they talk to me."
"They tell me thing that I will do, they show me things I do to you they talk to me!"
FM/LCR Skorge/Viper 12/Pheonix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/(=A=)
bjorkfrid
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bjorkfrid
 
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class
 
Post Number:  48
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 29, 2009 8:22:30 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
There was a light tap on the door. This whole spacestation was falling to pieces, Cali thought, she was sure the intercom had been working when she had first arrived. Convinced that with every rotation the Badejoz spacestation went through the more the screws loosened on its rickety hull she pressed the door release. The door did its best to slide open.

"Give it some force." She said in non-committal manner.

With a squeal of buckling hinges the door opened. In came a broad shouldered young man in an ill-fitting mechanic’s overall. The grease marks stretched across his back like the exotic markings of a rare animal hide. Logan. He bristled into the small room stepping around a stack of durasheets and a towering tangle of cables. The pile of durasheets shook precariously from the vibrations of his heavy boots.

"Welcome to my office Crewman." She gestured from behind her make-shift disk of two upturned ammunition crates which was being besieged by more datasheets. "Please take a seat."

Jake cast a sceptical look around the room to find Cali’s fabled chair. There was nowhere to sit. He shrugged in defeat and shifted awkwardly on his hangar soiled boots. In a dusty cloud, Cali swept the contents in front of her and propped herself up on her elbow. The young pilot was a long way from Coruscant now. He remained silent. She guessed his thoughts stirred a storm inside.

"What can I do for you Logan?"

"With your permission, I’d like to talk about the mission, this mining colony." He delivered the words clipped with urgency. He seemed different to the rest of the squadron. Everyone within the squadron was finding the posting difficult but most of them vented their unease in the bar or out on the training mat. Like all good squadies they kept their emotions far behind a veil of destructive behaviour. It was the correct thing for an Imperial to do.

Cali nodded. The air in her quarters was heavy with her tired energy and the ventilation unit, just as reliable as the door, meant her spirits remained bereft of refresh. Logan leant back on his heels clearly troubled by what he was about to say.

"I didn’t understand what the commander was saying back in there. Well, I understood what he said but I didn’t get it. I mean I know I’m new to the outfit but I was under the impression that the VE didn’t run that way." His voice was urgent with angered disappointment whilst he ran a half-clean hand through his hair. The act reminded Cali of a rising wave, towering ever higher threatening to smash her coastal refuge behind her desk.

"What kind of way do you think it runs Crewman?" She tried to keep her voice clean of any betraying emotion; though in honesty she was finding it difficult to retain any emotions at all.

"You’ve seen the recruitment drives haven’t you?" Cali nodded. She had seen them a result of the VE trying to acquire more bodies for the cause. The slogans read with a piercing zeal. Help stabilize what is terrorized. Correcting terror’s error. The Vast Empire Do what the Dominion Don’t. They sounded like something Kyrios would say. The naivety of core-worlders never ceased to surprise her. She was very wary of being driven by words alone, there must always be action to back them up and usually from her experience actions always went against the intentions of words.

"Then surely Ma’am you know if we are to help this colony then there are cleaner ways of doing it. I’ve still got the naval figures in my head from flight school I know the navy’s got the resources to remove an orbital blockade. Imperial class, Victory… Hell a handful of dreadnoughts would be enough to scare of some pirates." He towered over the desk. His face had gone red with the pumping blood of his disbelief. Cali stood up in order to re-balance his grievance. She straightened herself, her lekku stiffening behind her like lances.

"Please Crewman." She said sternly but below the level of shouting. Logan allowed his elbows to sink onto her desk. He wiped a hand over his face in frustration then in an instant stood back straight and snapped a nod in agreement.

"You forget your place. If are you so up to date with naval news then you should know that the Eastern Terrorities is very much up in the air. It’s not the kind of system you can just roll a couple of Star Destroyers in and expect the natives to roll out the red carpet. This place is so used to seeing white diamonds in the sky Palpatine, Thrawn, Dominion, us, let alone the Republic that half the people here wouldn’t even blink an eyelid. There is a time for visibility and pomp but we’re dealing with situation that requires tact. If we do our job right then our actions won’t go down in the annals of history." She shifted her tone with to indicate slight contempt. "If you’re looking for an outfit where you’re going to get the press then you should have signed up to the honor guard but this is Viper. We’re the furthest thing from honor in the entire navy. You can dig around but you won’t find our name glowing from the archives. I know you’ve done yourself some heroics."

"What are you talking about?" Logan voice rumbled with indignant rage and surprise.

"Jumping pirates from behind is one thing but out here they’re not city-boys playing at illegal hijacking during the off-season. No, out here they’re bigger." She would not allow her wing to bristle with any signs of protest. It was bad enough that Cadie allowed Arthur’s outburst. No, Cali had to keep her flight in check or they risked a serious case of mutiny.

"H-how did you know?" He sounded genuinely flabbergasted. He stepped back and rested his lower back against her precious stack of durasheet. It buckled in a sound clicks and scrapes. He went to collect them as they tumbled mid-air and crouched to the floor. He turned his head back to Cali. "With all due respect, ma’am, they were quite big, bigger than you at least." Cali’s eyes lit up at such open insubordination.

Logan rose to his feet and dusted himself down and stared directly at Cali in the eyes. His brown eyes where pools of a torrential storm. Her fears where confirmed with his defiant stare. She had a hero to deal with. Heroes be damned she thought with exasperation. Cali met his stare; she wasn’t responsible for the nature of the mission. She wasn’t the high priestess of ethics.

"It will do you well to remember your place Crewman." She reiterated herself picking up a durasheet she tucked it under her armpit. "I’m your superior officer not the naval high committee. If you would like to play senator then I’d be happy to point you in the direction of the proper channels." You have the accent to match she added silently. He looked away in open disgust. Fine, he can be disgusted all he wants but at least he was silent and if he could be made to remain silent during the mission all the better.

"Now, we have a mission to prepare for. I’ve just got our flight plan sent across." She flexed her arm softly crushing the durasheet. "This will require some heroic flying so you might get your Fel moment just yet, but I’ve got some specific requirements for my flight and I will not allow politics to get in the way of a smooth execution." She chose her words with deliberation.

"B-but…" He began but she wouldn’t allow him to continue.

"Is that understood crewman?" Her voice came from a place that was not familiar to her. It emanated from a place that had been carved away over the last couple of weeks. A dark cold cave she had been silently excavating out of her own numbness and apathy towards Viper’s spiralling situation. Her utterance had an effect on Logan enough for him to remain silent. It would simply not do to for both of them to be expected to lay out the moral maze of their dilemma. Neither had the rank or the responsibility to address such a grey matter.

Logan cast a weary glance down at the less than spotless floor. Cali couldn’t but help to fellow a little disappointed that his heroic spirit at been quelled so easily. Finally after a hanging eon of awkwardness he nodded is head in a slow solemn gesture. She was relieved but knew this would not be the end of it. There was not long until they had to get to the hangar for preparations and she would not allow her flight to falter under the pressure. Looking down on her sprawl of durasheets she scraped together the relevant information and began to address Jake.

"You’re dismissed crewman." She turned her attention back to the mess he had made in her quarters but he had already gone. She held a blank stare for a moment while her emotions whirled beneath the surfaces but with effort and a slight creasing of one of the durasheets she managed to find composure. Logan was furious but at least she hoped that would prove useful for their necessary requirements in the mission. She had just received a more detailed mission profile from Intelligence and it was considerable the amount of omission Tyrol had made at the brief. In the detail always lay the sour reality.

She had been detailed with information concerning the escorting of the mining colony transports. The schematics showed the miner’s where shipping their haulage using a handful of old A-A5 heavy speeder truck that would be escorted by a couple of LAVr QH-7 Chariots. Cali herself had some experience with such cumbersome creatures of the old days having done her fair turn at surface runs. They where slow but they could cover most ground if you allowed them the effort. Another omission was as to the contents to the A-A5, Cali presumed it must be the ore the miners had been extracting for the past seventy years from the planets apparently limitless supply. No doubt a gift from the Separatists it was unclear how the speeder trucks had been outfitted but Cali would not be surprised if they had undergone substantial upgrades. There could be no certainness as to what the miners where using them for now. Anyway, she would find out soon enough as her flight had been tasked with physically commandeering one the trucks by force in order to assure the convoy followed Viper’s kind gesture of rescuing them from the spectral pirates. She hoped her prior knowledge of the craft would ensure she could get her team to make a quick and swift entry. If she could get along side one she knew their side panelling was susceptible to a wielding rifle. Controlling the crew would be another mater, well Kyrios and Logan where big enough in stature to restrain any resistance. She had already decided to leave the driving to the capable hands of Jolinar. It would be crucial for them to get planet side as quick as possible. Landing would be another matter. They had been assigned two assault gunboats between them and make do what they could with the cavernous terrain. She knew such cumbersome beasts would hold up the rest of the squadron but she would need Ibram’s and Cadie’s wings to protect her lot from any hostilities they should encounter. She had her own personal Xg-1 but that was back in the VE’s home docks in the Vectra system. It was safer there anyway as there was no way of telling what shape they where going to come out of this one.

Having collected all the relevant information, Cali rose to her feet and skipped over the mess Logan had made on the floor allowing the door to her quarters to close behind her with a teeth-retching creak. Phinues’ old datapad lit up in her camouflaged flacks, it was a personal reminder she had set to head down the hangar to check the prepping of her flock of gunboats. Knowing the VE, she figured they would be in less than great shape given their tendency to scrimp on the credits. The space station was quiet, with most of the passing trade dying down as the dead of night became the early still morning of the station’s rotation around the neighbouring gas giant. There was no real sense of day and night on a space station but despite the apparent lawlessness of the Epislon system the shop proprietors where rigid about their working hours and come the strike of a certain hour the sellers and traders would shut up shop in the blink of an eye. It was very much a hang over of the Old Republic where markets and trade had been fiercely regulated to ensure there was no occurrence of black market dealings. It had not done much good however as crime syndicates at despite system’s draconian efforts had long ago got their fingers into the trade here. On the Badajoz space station there was still at least protocols to honour.

Cali rounded a corner just off from the eerily silent trading plaza and through a view-port could make out the unmistakable white glimmer of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. The Suspense dwarfed the space-station in size. For the majority of the stationing here in the Eastern Territories the Suspense would be system jumping to avoid detection apart from when it was needed to transfer supplies and armaments for Viper’s purpose. Cali was expected to shuttle across and oversee the transfer of the assault-gunboats for the upcoming mission. She had grown accustomed to the dankness of the tiny scrap that was the Badajoz space station and was not looking forward to the sterile gleam of naval efficiency. She entered her pass code to gain entry to the private hangar the squadron had absconded for their purposes. All mechanics had retired from work and the high domed room was quiet except for her seemingly insignificant footsteps. She passed down a corridor of looming docked Interceptors. The customary azure blue from the paint job glimmered like coral in the low lighting in the hanger. Cali’s reflection sunk away in twisted contortion against the segmented glass of the Interceptor’s view-ports. Her expression was sullen as she mulled over Logan’s fierce words, she walked by her own fighter unaware of the charred blood-stains she had failed to get removed; the birth marks of war. Towards the end of the hangar resting directly below the close orbital gate stood a single beat-up Zentine Ministry-class orbital shuttle. The paint work had worn away from innumerable excursions; it was not even officially part of the VE’s navy. Cadie had bargained for it upon their arrival to Badajoz, sealing the deal in one part a game of Sabacc and secondly a brawl. There was no faulting that woman’s resourcefulness, Cali thought climbing up the shaky entrance ramp.

Plumping herself down in the cockpit which smelt of something Cali was glad she couldn’t identify she in an absent minded daze keyed in the start up sequence. After a moments protestation the craft came to live in a series of clicks and whirls accompanied by the low hum of the thrusters coming online. In the co-pilots seat there laid a half dismantled head-piece of a Viper model probe droid. Maybe Tinker had got that thrown in as part of her victor’s spoils or maybe Lt. Grey had plans for it though Cali could not even begin to thing to what purpose. She gave it a light rap with her knuckles, a loud hollow reverberation bounced around the small cockpit. The droid looked like it had seen plenty of action and had been deactivated for a considerable time. For all Cali knew it could be some private joke of Ibram’s, though she had always thought it was Phineus who had a case of droid-aphelia.
Cali entered the flight clearance code and the hangar’s gate above her began the opening sequence. The claxon rang inside the empty hangar as the magnetic field depressurised allowing her to lift the craft to a gentle hover. With a final check she eased the shuttle upwards out into the empty space above. The majority of inky black sky was obscured by the gleaming white of the Suspense. She opened her com-channel to the standard VE frequency.

"This is Petty Officer second class Cali’Reharn of Viper squadron attaché of Phoenix Wing requesting permission to dock, receiving over." She slumped back into the chair as she dialled in the vector path to the Star Destroyer’s hangar bay.

"Received ma’am, we will be engaging tractor pull in approximately thirteen seconds." The shuttle rocked slightly as the docking pulse successfully grappled the crafts mass. Cali looked down along the mass array of protrusions and indents of the cavernous terrain of the Suspense. In Cali’s mind it was unnecessarily big, not ideal for maintaining a low profile.

She initiated the landing sequence and with an audible hiss the landing legs of the shuttle folded out beneath the hull. Cali grabbed her datafiles which she had rested atop of the head of probe droid. She spun round and made her way to back of the shuttle and could already make out the busy bustle of the Star Destroyer’s hangar from the opening gap caused by the landing ramp protruding down to the shinny hangar floor. She flicked the probe droid a mock salute and made her way down the ramp.

Unlike Badajoz space station the hangar of the Suspense was alive with activity. Technicians and engineers consulted with other and droids clanked nosily around the hangar their echoes ricocheting like heavy blaster fire. A large docking crane was repositioning the unmistakable shape of a Tie-Bomber to the rear of seemingly endless recesses of the hangar. Cali’s lekku bristled at the sensory information causing her to almost shrink back from the assault on her senses. As her feet clicked against the glittering floor she was met with the immaculately clean knee-high boots of Lt. Grey. The Intelligence officer was pointing towards the docking crane and giving orders to an unfortunate mechanical officer who was clearly unimpressed by her request. He walked past Cali with a grim rejected expression and she could hear his voice barking off equally volatile orders to his own engineering team behind her. Grey’s eyes focused upon the Twi’lek and she pulled a satisfied smile.

"Ah, Miss Reharn. I’m so glad to see you." Her voice dripped of over-egged warmth. Cali responded with a limp salute and stood at a strained ease in front of Grey’s insincere performance. Cali nodded to indicate her acknowledgement at the Lieutenant’s charade.

"I wanted to make sure you oversaw the transfer of the assault gunboats. Ugly things if you ask me, not very ladylike but they’ll do the job we require." Grey spoke absorbed in her own digression. Cali looked down at the floor; she wondered how they kept it so pristine.

"As was mentioned in your flight briefing we’ll be assigning you two assault gunboats. This should allow you to touch base with convoy and assure their timely evacuation." Cali focused on Grey’s lips as they contorted around the vulgar turn of phrase. How sweetly she mangled the truth.

"I’ll spare the specifications such tiresome prattle but I can assure you that they race-day fit." She added a knowing wink at the end of her sentence. The act looked unnatural on her stern, solid face. "I know you’ll be right at home, as I see you have some experience with these contraptions. Weren’t you involved in the dancer trading or something like that? The pre-capricious syndicate?"

Cali glared with annoyance and anger at such an idea. "No, it was fish for the Precopian Transport Ministry…"

"Yes, something like that I’m sure." Grey interrupted Cali with resounding nonchalance. "Well, bring them back in good order all they becoming out of your wages, as the squabbies say, right?" Cali doubted very much that she was joking.

"How is your charming squadron leader doing? Such a strapping man..." Grey’s eyes drifted over Cali’s head causing her an unsettling sensation to slide down her spine. "When you see him next, do ask that silly man to respond to correspondence; official and personal naturally. We must be allowed some repose amongst all of this." She sent a slender, bony hand like an opening fan to the cacophony of noise that emitted from the hangar.

Grey nodded in her self-approval and swung on her boot heel and strode off towards the exit. Cali stood for a moment still disturbed by Grey’s indelicate comment. Grey turned her head over her shoulder with a flick of her tightly tied hair with an unnerving whip-like precision. "Oh, I hear you have a Mandalorian in your nest. Awfully sorry to hear that but I’m sure you’ll put them to good use. Hard-headed, blood-lust and all that…" She broke off into a chuckle which despite the noise around her seemed to pierce right through Cali’s cranium. With Grey’s laughter lingering at the back of the mind Cali made her way across the hangar through countless orders and request being bandied back and forth as mechanics went about their apparently chaotic work. She had no idea where the assault gunboats where docked as she peered across a myriad of TIE bodies and strewn cabling.

A Mandalorian, she thought maybe Grey had meant Jolinar but judging by her off-comment about the dancers Cali guessed the Lieutenant saw all Twi’leks as the same. Must be another new recruit; that would require some reshuffling on her part Cali thought with frustration. Yet more orientation, another late minute change. This squadron was a much a point of passage as was the Badajoz space station. Countless faces donned the helmet sometimes for a short-time until they where promoted others simply because they had not survived. Her thoughts turned to Ferran, incapacitated from the Navy’s over-eagerness to see the poor man return to active duty. He had not been able to handle things, too soon for anyone to take given what he had gone through. The exposure to such dead vacuum, unbelievable coldness; it forced you to except death.

Cali suspected that a Mandalorian knew all about death. That was good. Death was the number one motivator as an Imperial pilot. They would get it done, they flew not for glory but to survive. Disturbing her thoughts a small man in a engineers officers uniform that at one stage in its life had been a uniform but now was tarnished with grease and burn marks walked up to her with an equally shoddy salute.

"Ma'am. Engineering officer Parskean." He extended a grubby hand which Cali reluctantly shook. "I take it you've come to pick up a couple of relics. I'm here to pass them over to you correct and off the record otherwise I'll have Intel and her majesty breathing down my back."

He gestured her to follow his portly figure down towards the pair of assault gunboats that stood ominously in front of them. They had been outfitted in a plain grey and black job without any decals or insignia; no traces.

"Nothing special here Ma'am. We've packed them with some assault concussions, your Novaldex should keep you out of harms way and Mira will make you fly straight and true." Cali smiled as he referred to the on-board flight computer by its informal name. Mira, to mean Miradyne. She and Mira had relied on each other back long ago. It was not that long ago but it was before all this. Before Grey, before the cramped confines of a Tie.

"When was the last time the Cygnus was tested our?" Parskean posssessed a pair of shrunken eyes like dried fruit but Cali could make a satisfied glimmer has she fell into tech talk. The secret language. "I had a bad experience trying to manually boot a jump and I was waylaid for two days before I was picked up as derelict."

"Yes, not much good at long-range if they die on you like that. Guess that’s why they still prefer capital deployments; give them a nest to return to. Can't leave an Imperial out in the brink for more than a couple of hours not like those Republic pilots. They call us robotic but if y'er ask me it takes more of a machine mind to be able to stick out in the dark for more than a day. Not right. Does things to the mind." Cali cleared her throat to bring the man's digressions to an end.

"Oh, do excuse me Ma'am. Well if you need to go into stream then we had these fishes do a five-point system jump last season. We separated that underperformers leave them to do the garbage run." He laughed deep in his throat making his chin quiver like a Hutt.

"Good to hear. How we getting these other to Badajoz?" Her bones ached from all this conferring. Too much systematized nonsense, wasting resources for their own sake.

"Oh we'll take one each, if you think you can handle them?" Cali nodded.

"I'll tell you about what happens when you get yourself stuck out in a Theta T-2c when you're meant to making a planetary parade." He continued with energy but Cali's mind was unsure that she would follow all these old worlds of an ancient dead time.

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

When she awoke Cali could her the faint clatter of boots on a hard surface. She cursed herself in her mother tongue as the dim outline of the cockpit of assault gunboat came into recognition. Lulled to sleep by the words of an old man she thought gathering herself to her feet she smoothed down her fatigues and peered through the cockpit visor. In the middle of the hangar several people where gathered, her eyes picked up the red hair of Cadie. Cadie was engaged with talking to an unfamiliar face, a largish Zabrack and word a stern expression. They where due to depart for the mining colony. Cali had been too weary to return to her quarters and had passed out once she had landed her gunboat. There had only been a few hours before disembarking anyway and the familiarity of the cockpit outlay had provided the safety for her dreamless sleep.

She made her way down to the rest of the pilots. Some where already in their flightsuits whilst others where half-suited up like they where being swalloed by jet black serpents. Ibram stood in a pristine flightsuit at the front of the group, calm he allowed his pilots their time to get ready. The more relaxed they could pretend to be would be better for the outcome of the mission. The creature, Rutian, stood like a beast ready to strike his eyes racing over the outlay of the hangar. Cali flicked a greeting to Jolinar who was stood silent at the back, her helmet resting on a cargo box. Jolinar flicked back in reply and looked down at her flightleader to indicate that she was somewhat out of place given her lack of flightsuit. Cali silently cursed herself again. She tried to make herself small to avoid the attentions of Ibram and slink to rear of the hangar where the squadron's flight attire was stored.

"Checking to make sure everything is prim and proper Ma'am." The voice was like high a courtly flute. Kyrios galloped towards her. He wore his flightsuit like his robe, stupendously proud. Stupendously stupid.

"O-h, ye-s..." She began.

"Excellent. We can't have those pirates catching us short but we're earlier to rise than they are. Miserable things. We'll show them." His voice continued his own self-important melody.

"Excuse me, crewman." She cut him short for once making her way to the flight locker.

"Oh, I wouldn't go back there Ma'am. Ghastly fool. It would seem our newest breten, Sk-sk-skorge? Skirge. Ghastly name. Seems to have his own idea of what passes for uniform." Cali continued holding her hand up to Kyrios' solo performance.

She had set a single foot inside the locker when she was met with an unreal and monstrous sight. Decked out in what first Cali mistook to be a metal tomb was her newest recruit in the infamous armour of the Mandalorians. She could discern no eyes behind the grim curtain of the helmet's visor.

"Finally we meet Ma'am."
FL/PO2 Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited September 29, 2009 8:29:32 AM)]
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited September 29, 2009 8:39:40 AM)]
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited October 4, 2009 8:55:38 AM)]
Skorge
ComNet n00b
 
Skorge
 
[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
Post Number:  23
Total Posts:  39
Joined:  Sep 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
September 29, 2009 3:02:30 PM    View the profile of Skorge 
Skorge wakes up, and stares at the ceiling, and says to himself “Game time”.  He puts on his fatigues, and is about to make his way to the hangar, when he spots his Gold Mandalorian armor in the corner. Skorge stops and thinks to himself, my flight suit protects me from the vacuum of space, along with other smaller things. But my armor is made of Beskar (Mandalorian iron) it can protect me from basically anything, it can also seal itself, plus in any combat situation I’d rather have my armor than the flight suit. He adorns his armor and moves towards the hangar.

“How am I going to explain this to my flight leader?” Skorge thinks to himself

The doors open up in front of Skorge helmet in under one arm, when Skorge steps into the hangar he stops to take in the sight.

“The space station is ghost town compared to the Star destroyer,” Skorge thought.

He makes his way to the locker-room, when he spots most of his squadron, including a pair of gun boats.

“I guess this fight is going to be more intense than I thought if we are using two gun boats… good.” He thought

Skorge makes his way towards the locker-room, engineers, along with other mechanics get out of his way with a puzzled looks on their faces. It’s probably the first time they’ve seen a Mandalorian, let alone one on the flight deck of a Star Destroyer. He grins, and makes his way towards the locker-room, he sees Ibram with other squadron members. Skorge enters the locker-room, and heads towards the weapons locker. He pulls out a standard issue DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol, four double edged combat knives, and one vibro-sword. Skorge holsters the blaster pistol, and begins sliding the knives into place; one under the left wrist, one in each ankle, and the other he placed into an ejector assembly on top of his right wrist. Skorge tests the blade by ejecting and retracting the blade from his gauntlet. He places the vibro-sword in its heath, puts it on the bench next to him. He then holsters his own personal DC-15s Blaster Pistol. It doesn’t pack much of a punch but it doesn’t run out of ammo, which has to count for something. Skorge puts his helmet on, and boots up the systems on it. Different vision modes, a motion tracker, way-point marking system, and those are just some of the perks.

Skorge hears someone approach from behind him, its fellow squadron member Kyrios.
Kyrios puts on his flight suit starring at Skorge the whole time, he goes to leave, but takes one last look, shakes his head, and leaves. Skorge shrugged and went back to check his helmet’s systems, when he hears someone take one step in and stop, he turns and meets his flight leader’s gaze, she looks stunned.

“Finally we meet ma’am,” Said Skorge with a salute.

Cali eyes the two blaster pistols, and the sword next to Skorge. She gathers herself and tries to think about what her newest crewman is trying to, pull.
“Crewman Skorge where is your flight suit, and what is all of this?” asked Cali trying not to sound angry.

“Ma’am this is my armor it’s…” cut of by his flight leader

“I know what you’re wearing, but that’s not what I asked. Where is your flight suit?”

“I wanted to ask you if, I could wear this, instead of the flight suit?”

“You want to wear that…” she moves her finger from Skorge’s head to toe. “…instead of your standard issue flight suit that, everyone wears. You better have good reasons as to why I should even consider such a request.”

“Ma’am, my armor can seal its self from the vacuum of space, but not only that it’s made of Beskar, which can block nearly everything the enemy throws at me. Think about it, if we get caught having to board another vessel or fight on the ground, this rig would be perfect for that sort of fight. Not only that ma’am but, should I lose my weapons at any point in time, I can do things in my armor that, and with all due respect ma’am, no one could do in a regular flight suit. Have you ever seen what happens to a persons face when their punched with a Beskar gauntlet? It makes a bloody mess of things.” Said Skorge in a noticeable laughing tone. 

“Ok, you have a good point there, but you stand at nearly seven feet tall in that armor, could you even fit inside the cockpit of your TIE?”

“Yes ma’am it’s a snug fit, but I can fit inside of my fighter with this on and if need be I can jump out of it just as fast. Ma’am I understand this is an odd request but, I would not have asked if I hadn’t thought it would give us a tactical advantage over our enemies, but ultimately the choice is yours to make.”
Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur. - "Today is a good day for someone else to die."
FM/LCR Skorge/Viper 12/Pheonix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/(=A=)
Romanflame
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
October 15, 2009 5:35:39 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
Arthur took a shuttle to the Suspense to get the package that his friend made of the spices for his tea.  When he landed in the hanger he saw Cali looking over some assault-gunboats.  He got passed whit out being seen by her.  He didn't want to tell her why he was there eventhough it was legal he didn't want anyone that did not need to know what the spices were and at the time she did not need to know.  He was took to the cargo hold to get the boxes and went back to the station to store them in his lock box in his room being the only safe place he knew of on the whole station besides his tie.

He mixed up a few bags he put them in his pouch as he was doing this his datapad started to buzz telling him to get to the hanger and suit up.  When he got there he started to laugh to himself at the Mandalorian in his full suit of armor thinking this is the navy not the army. There is no need for a full suit of armor. he quickly put him self together when Tinker and Ibram entered he moved as far from them as possible but could still be considered part of the squad he refused to talk to anyone with his ploy working they were thinking he was afraid of this mission they were about to go on.
FM/LCRW Arthur/Viper 6/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE
bjorkfrid
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
October 18, 2009 8:25:40 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
Cali’s lekku shimmered in a mixture of fear and frustration. A gold glad Mandalorian armoured warrior stood before her. The situation looked ridiculous given the small confines of Viper squadron’s changing locker. Other members of the squadron had begun to gather round the low hung entrance behind her as she stood up next to this dwarfing and imposing figure. The Mandalorian brought his arm up to his helmet and muttered something unfamiliar into it causing his armour to send a sharp crackling sound around its frame in a second.

“Anti-electric shielding, ma’am.” His voice was metallically distorted by the helmets casing.

“Quite indeed.” Kyrios jeered from the back of the crowd his face screwed up in disgust as if he was reluctantly accepting an incorrect ordered meal at a fine Coruscanti restaurant.

Cali snapped a look of contempt at Kyrios relieved for a second to not to have to look at the surreal sight before her. She needed to do something and quick. She could not loose face and command in this situation. With a distracted flick of her wrist she brought her hand to rest on her hip and turned back to address the newest member of her flight.

“You do realize that there is an element of surprise and anonymity required for our mission crewman?” Her voice lacked the authority she had wanted project.

“Yes, ma’am but this helmet is my anonymity.” He raced his gloved hands to his immaculate helmet and rapped it softly on the left side.

“Oh, I no doubt that it hides you, but it doesn’t hide our actions.” A new voice addressed the mythical being before Cali. It was one full of the authority she had desperately sought. It belonged to her squadron leader, Ibram Tyrol. He was leaned against the steel frame of the threshold in a casual manner but his eyes possessed a stern resolve.

“Now, I don’t doubt the excellence of the equipment.” He strolled forward, his boots resounding in the stunned silence as the rest of the squadron held their respective breath. “But,” He tapped Skorge’s boot toe with his own immaculately shined heel of his own pair. “The colour will simply not do.” His voice assumed the sing-song quality of Kyrios. Kyrios himself turned a frustrated glance around the rest of the crew and quietly left the cramped room in a hurry.

Skorge, for the whole exchange, remained silent. It was impossible for anyone but himself to be certain what his emotions betrayed. Behind that helmet, that cold mask he was an iron-clad vessel of violence and destruction. The tension lingered and Cali noticed Jolinar had gently rested a palm over the holster of her blaster. We could do without losing bodies before they had even got out into flight she thought. Ibram stood relaxed his eyes constantly burning into the dark ravine cut by the cross of Skorge’s visor.

Tyrol shuffled a hand inside his flight suit breast pocket and pulled out a small container. Unscrewing the lid he dipped two finger into the mysterious contents and flashed his fingers out and across Skorge's helmet leaving a distinct black smear on the gleaming gold. The Mandalorian's arm shot up from his relaxed position and pulled Tyrol's hand towards his hip leaning into a roll that sent the squadron commander across the room onto the locker bench with an echoing thud. Jolinar, who until then had been perched absent mindededly on the edge of the adjacent bench shot forward in a silent leap like a larger predator leaping out from its hidden pit. She grappled Skorge to the ground she pushed her legs down pinning him to the spot. Silently he moved his left wrist and his armour down his arm split revealing a twin-bladed vibro knife. Jolinar snarled in response and pushed her full body weight down onto his arm. Cali could tell that despite the protection of his armour Jolinar had Skorge's arm precariously at breaking point. Tyrol had managed to get back to his feet, his face was blank but his eyes glistened with anger. To Cali's disbelief he was now brandishing a DC-15s blaster pistol, the escalation of chaos stunned her spot. Cadie started to motion towards her commander but he held up his hand to her face bleached with anguish. There was a high piercing sound; the single blaster shot resounded throughout the room and each member of the squadron. The nozzle of the gun smoldered from the energy discharge, Ibram addressed the tangle of Skorge and Jolinar.

"Ke'sush! Enough!" His voice pierced Cali's skull more than the blaster shot had. Cadie was now at her commander’s side, her eyes displayed a nervousness Cali had not seen in her co-officer before. The situation of Viper had sunk that low.

The heap of Skorge and Jolinar's bodies sagged at his voice. The rutian Twi'lek flipped herself off the clattering mound of Skorge, he likewise mechanically rose to his feet and in a surprisingly swift movement removed his now spoilt helmet.

"I will not, repeat will not tolerate this behaviour from anyone! Jolinar, if you so much throw daggers from your eyes towards any of co-pilot I shall ship you off to furthest rock from civilisation!" Jolinar looked stun that he should address and dress her down over the Mandalorian who had thrown him across the room. Cali suspected this was part of his diplomacy, a chance to a send a message to the new recruits.

He turned his body, blaster still in hand, its chamber aimed casually at Skorge's feet. "You! Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my friend Rutian here..." The male Twi'lek had remained unnervingly still during the whole confrontation smiled a toothy-grin that made Cali's stomach churn, "to conduct immediate military disciplinary measures and hang your ass? I command here, ke'gyce! Now black out your stuff and we're shipping out immediately!"

*As Ibram's voice rang out across the hangar, the doors open in the uneasy silence that had frozen the squadron with the unexpected scene that had just played out. Through the doors came two pilots dressed in full flight gear, helmets held at their sides. The smiles faded from their faces as they two took in the scene, becoming statues like the rest of the squadron.

“...I told you we picked a good time to come back.” One of the Pilots, Phineus Gage, whispered not very quietly leaning over to the other, Anden Beliam.

Everyone still had their eyes on Ibram's blaster which had not been holstered yet. Finally Ibram caught on that the two pilots had entered, and replied, “We are having some last minute additions for the Mission. Chief Petty Officers Gage and Beliam, returning to active duty.”

Although it looked like he wanted to say more on the pilots return his words were short, sharp and still ringing through the whole of the hangar.* He walked over to the Mandalorian and looked him up and down. He said something low beneath his breath. Cali could not make out what he said but for once Skorge's face cracked from his stone-dead visage into a stunned expression.


Jolinar grabbed her flight helmet and spat to the ground. "N'jurkad."

"Nar dralshy'a..." Skorge replied. The exchange between Jolinar and Skorge remained gibberish to Cali's non-Mando'a brain.

She finally made her way to her locker and pulled out her flight-suit. Dusting down the jet black material she plunged her legs into the fabric pulling it up to her waist. Skorge was still stood where Tyrol had addressed him and picked up the commander's container and dipped his gloved fingers into it and started to massage it over his hands. After a couple of minutes his entire upper torso was a greasy black colour stood atop of his remaining golden feet. Rutian hissed as he left the room. Suited up Cali silently passed Skorge, his face was blank.

After seating herself behind the familiar cockpit of the assault-boat Cali felt a wave of calm cool her nerves from the earlier scuffle. She heard the sounds behind her of Jolinar scrambling into the tiny cockpit. The vessel had been modified to take two occupants meaning that Viper could double up on their assault crew. Cali had assigned Jolinar to take control of the convoy once they had made contact. Cali hoped that Jolinar's experience in the navy's special squadron, The Raiders would give her the skills to cope with the task. She greeted her with a friendly flick of her lekku, the movement of which made her modified flight suit squeak from the constricting material. Jolinar return the greeting and hunkered down quietly behind her placing a blaster rifle down into the storage compartment below her seat. Kyrios and Skorge would be manning the other Xg-1 as she had decided given their disagreement the other day that it would better to have Logan up in the sky with the rest of Viper and far away from any conflicting moral behaviour. The control pannel bleeped a response to the start-up test she had programmed to run and beneath her and Jolinar's feet the hull rumbled as the engine began the warm up procedure.

"Ok Vipers. This Viper one, are we good to go?" Ibram's voice came through her system speakers echoing inside her flight helmet.

"Viper five here. My flight is secured, yeah guys?" Cadie sounded off; her voice to Cali seemed to lack its usual feistiness.

“Six here.” Arthur answered.
“Pick up your messages next time six. I had a time trying to get hold of you earlier.” Tinker was obviously not happy with Arthur’s actions of late.

“Understood five.” He answered in a non-affected manner.
Cali flicked on her own com-unit, “Nine and ten here. Do you copy xg-2?”

“Xg-2 here, twelve and… What’s your number? Hmm, ok. And thirteen coming in.” Kyrios answered is voice betraying his displeasure at his onboard accomplice. A fitting number for Skorge Cali thought.

“This is eleven I’ll be hooked up to you wing ok one?” Logan’s voice came in assured and focused.

“As outlined in the brief we’ll be flying pentangle eleven. Ok Vipers keep your thoughts to yourself. It should take us about three and half to reach atmosphere, once we penetrate keep it on the down low until I get a lock on the convoy. Eyes peeled at all time ok? We’ve got to protect those outdate xg’s.” Ibram signed off into a buzz of static.

Cali turned to Jolinar; “Ok Li’ary let’s get this rescue underway.”

“Hmm… whose going to rescue us?” Jolinar’s voice was distant and settled tensely in Cali’s stomach. During the whole time en-route she failed to shake that feeling.
FL/PO2 Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited October 30, 2009 3:47:07 PM)]
Skorge
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
October 19, 2009 12:38:17 AM    View the profile of Skorge 
"...What's your number?" asked Kyrios

"Thirteen." growled Skorge

Skorge sat inside of an old Xg class gun boat, and stared at his now blackened gauntlets. He went over in his head about what had happened in the looker room. The anger inside of him is at a boiling point, and being in a Xg with Kyrios was not helping. He was impressed that Jolinar was able to bring him down, being in full armor, but the instant Skorge grabbed his Squadron Leader's arm to throw him across the room, everything went red. The more Skorge thought the angrier he became. It got to the point where he shook, finally he took a deep breathe and said to himself... "Save it for the enemy di'kut." Skorge couldn't wait to get his hands on his enemy. His thoughts were interrupted by the Squadron Leader's voice.


“As outlined in the brief we’ll be flying pentangle eleven. Ok Vipers keep your thoughts to yourself. It should take us about three and half to reach atmosphere, once we penetrate keep it on the down low until I get a lock on the convoy. Eyes peeled at all time ok? We’ve got to protect those outdate xg’s.” Ibram signed off into a buzz of static.

This mission would test Skorge in more ways than he thought. Not only did he have to look out for those in his Squadron, he would have to depend on others to cover him.

The hull rumbled as the Xg-1 entered the planet’s atmosphere; Viper Squadron immediately dove straight for narrow canyons. The two Xg-1s were centered in the middle of the squadron, one behind the other, with the TIEs in the front and rear. They were low enough that no enemy radar could see them, but navigating the canyons was very difficult, especially for the Xg-1s.

In the forward Xg was Cali, and Jolinar, the one behind it was piloted by Kyrios and Skorge. Kyrios was piloting, Skorge was monitoring the ships sensors, mainly the proximity sensor. Skorge looked out the view-port and saw jagged edges of the canyon walls. Then he saw the Cali’s Xg in front of him, and then realized how much clearance they really had. The Xg-1’s wings barely fit in side of the canyon, Skorge usually didn’t get nervous but seeing the sight of his flight leader’s Xg, made his heart beat’s pace quicken. Skorge cycled through his suits sensors and activated the heart beat monitor. He looks at Kyrios and saw that his heart was racing at 150 beats per minute.

Cali looks towards the TIEs in front of her, the two lead TIEs are flying side by side, and even they are close to the canyon wall, with just a little more than a meter or two to spare. Since Squadron Commander Ibram Tyrol ordered the coms black-out everyone has to rely on each other, for course corrections. Which makes the mission even harder, every pilot in the flight will only have seconds to make a course correction, and avoid collision with either another ship or the canyon wall. Cali looked at one of the monitors in her cockpit; it said there would be a bend in the canyon coming up. Cali looked up and saw that her flight had already arrived at the bend, and had begun to adjust her course and speed, just in time. Her Xg barely had a millimeter of space for the maneuver.

Kyrios had seen the Xg in front of him to avoid a bend in the canyon wall, he did his best to do the same, but it was too late. The right wing started to scrape against the wall, the grinding noise inside the cockpit made Skorge’s stomach turn end over end. Kyrios inched the Xg over and the noise stopped, he breathed a sigh of relief, and then became quickly annoyed by Skorge chuckling, behind him.
"Your words are as empty as your future, I am the vanguard of your destruction"
FM/LCR Skorge/Viper 12/Pheonix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/(=A=)
[This message has been edited by Skorge (edited October 19, 2009 12:51:16 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Skorge (edited October 23, 2009 9:34:34 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Skorge (edited October 23, 2009 9:35:19 AM)]
Anden Beliam
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 1, 2009 9:08:30 AM    View the profile of Anden Beliam 
“Request granted….proceed to docking bay three.” The female voice of the traffic control officer came back over the comm.

“Thank you.” Anden replied and smiled as he guided the Eloquence out of its current flight path parallel to the Suspense and towards hangar bay, guiding his shuttle towards the flashing lights the docking officer was waving and set his ship down easily.

Letting out a sigh, Anden sat in the pilots seat for a moment until he heard the familiar clapping noise of his  BLX labor droid, Bex, feet on the metal floor and the whir of his motor joints. The footsteps faded to silence at the entrance of the cockpit. Anden closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.

It feels good to be back he thought to himself.

It seemed to be forever ago that he had first arrived on the Star Destroyer for his mission in Viper Squadron- fresh out of Flight School. He knew it had not been years since he had been away…but it sure as hell felt like it. He opened his eyes when Bex finally spoke in his slower and low metallic voice.

“Everything all right, Sir?”

“Yes… just memories.” Anden replied, getting up from his seat feeling his muscles screaming at him and pushing them from his minds, “Everything taken care of?”

“Yes, Sir… will you require any help with your belongings?”

“No Bex, thanks.” Anden said, patting his hand on the droids shoulder as he shuffled past him grabbing his gear as the ramp opened, “Help R7 with whatever tasks there are left. I’m not sure how long this mission will be, so until I return- you are in charge of protocol.”

“R7 will be thrilled, Sir.” The droid said in a bemused tone.

If his mouth could have formed it, Anden knew bex would have smiled. Since acquiring him he had not wiped the Bex’s memory, or R7’s for that matter. As a result both droids had taken on their own personalities. Anden had grown to prefer it that way. R7 was Anden’s astromech droid, obstinate yet highly effective.  Bex had not been Anden as along but had become a close friend, steadfast and always there. He was not sure if that was because the driod had come to understand that if it had not been for Anden- he would have been used long ago for spare parts.

He nodded to the droid with a grin and set off down the ramp, the crisp recycled air filling his lungs in a way that was exhilarating. The hangar was alive and active, chaos to the untrained or unfamiliar eye, order to those who were. And even though he looked out of place, dressed looking more like a smuggler than an officer, he felt like he was home again.


:::On the Way To The Hangar:::


The corridor was quiet, providing Anden yet another chance to flick through his datapad on the mission information that Viper was assigned to. If it could be called information, it was sketchy at best, which surprised Anden even more with the final note to “take no prisoners”.  Even though he had killed in action before didn’t mean he enjoyed it. If he had to- he would. The thing was that orders were orders. If High Command said “Take No Prisoners”, he wouldn’t be taking any.

Still getting that uneasy feeling in my gut, he thought to himself. Since arriving on the Suspense he had not been able to get the questions out of his mind. Perhaps he had been away too long, or wasn’t ready to really start taking orders again. For so long, it seemed, he had operated as he saw fit. Acted as he deemed he needed to for whatever situation he was in and had always come out on top. Now- he had to find it in him to take orders again. And he would.

“Anden?” A voice came from behind him.

Phin?, He thought almost immediately- and knew it was true before he turned around.

“Ha! It is you!” Phin exclaimed and slugged Anden in the shoulder. He was dressed in full flight gear too.

He slugged his old wing man back. Then laughed along with him, “Still with the Squadron are you?, Thought you had left after we got back from Zeltros?”

“ I did.” Phin smiled, “You just got back too then, I take it.”

Anden rolled his eyes as the Hangar doors came into view, “Sharp as always, you odd quack.”

Phin chuckled and accepted the comment. It wasn’t the first time Anden had called him that. Phin was like a brother to Anden, the brother he had never had. They different in so many ways- yet working together in near perfect precision from the very first time they had flown together. He felt more confident knowing had would have Phin there on the mission. Perhaps it would even help to quiet the uneasiness he had really begun to feel about the mission.

“Seems like we picked a good time to get back on with Viper. It was time to come back” Phin said, which made Anden wonder if Phin had really even read all the way through the mission brief.

“Yeah…” Anden said, drawing himself back into his mind, the questions resurfacing.

All the questions went away when the doors to the hangar opened showing would seemed to be a very cinematic scene being acted out. Ibram had his pistol out, with signs that he had just fired it, it being pointed at the feet of one of the Vipers. Ibram looked as though he was about to explode. An eerie, almost threatening silence hung in the air, everyone frozen on the spot. Anden could help but feel that all his questions, all his concerns about this mission he knew so little about- had just been confirmed.

“…I told you we picked a good time to come back.” Phin half whispered, leaning over to him.


:::Flying Through the Canyons:::


Ever since Ibram had given orders to keep communications closed, the gnawing sensation had been growing in the pit of Anden’s stomach. Phin’s words of this being a good time to come back to the squadron reverberated in his head, clanging around like a loose stabilizer. It wasn’t helping. The turns of the canyon did. It helped to keep his mind on the task at hand and off what he might have to do.

He kept his Tie in tight formation, rolling in unison with the other Tie fighters streaming low through the canyon. With every turn he wished that they were not as in the dark as they were on the mission. He was almost beginning to feel like a flying assassin posing as a convoy escort, waiting for his next target to come into sight rather than coming to some one’s rescue. His read-outs coming up on screen showed that they were nearing the end of the canyon. If his visual scanning had been on high alert before they were now operating on a super sensory level, which made what came into view once they reached the mouth of canyon even more shocking.

“What the frak…” Anden said, the words leaving his mouth in a hushed voice. He found himself wishing that this was one of the times that what you were feeling was going to happen- didn't.

|| Phoenix Wing || Viper Squadron ||
FL/CPO Beliam/Viper 3-1/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[MC][MC:2]

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[This message has been edited by Anden Beliam (edited November 4, 2009 10:21:21 AM)]
Sicario
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 2, 2009 11:41:47 PM    View the profile of Sicario 
An Imperial shuttle’s engines hummed through the still and quiet space. The shuttle itself was some beat up heap of scrap metal left over from fallen debris collected over some extensive time period. Barely suitable for transporting third-class recruits- the ones who joined because of poor education and any hope for a decent future- any man who found his way in such a junkyard cruiser wouldn’t feel too pleased with himself; especially if that man was once an accomplished pilot with the Navy.

The passengers inside the cruiser weren’t any more impressive, for the most part, and fit the theme of the cruiser well. Two of the rawest recruits- one of which was throwing up his lunch over the other- sat in the front of the five-rowed seating shuttle. One Imperial Navy guard paced up and down and in between as apathetically as one could walk. The last man sat in the back row, thumbing through a V-book on his data-pad. He was young, but one could easily overestimate his age solely on his current appearance. His long, messy black hair hung down past his eyes; matching the rough, messy beard that clung across his face. His clothes bore the memories of a once majestic style, before fire and knives and lasers wearing them down to what would suite a Coruscant street-liver quite nicely. Not many would be able to tell by looking at this man; but he had more experience and talent in piloting than all of the three men in front of him combined. Far more.

The guard slowed his pace even more as he began walking down the aisle towards the rear of the shuttle. His face steadily twisted as if his confused, unsure thoughts procured themselves into a physical form and burrowed into his skin. He stopped a row ahead of the bearded pilot, and murmured something to himself. The pilot looked up from his data-pad with a blank expression.

“You look like shit,” said the guard between small, to-himself chuckles. He was a lanky, blonde haired human who appeared unfit for the security position. His uniform loosely hung to his body, and his belt barely kept everything up even on it’s tightest setting.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re Phineus Gage, yeah?” The guard placed his hands on the buckle of his belt, easing into a more comfortable position. “You look like bantha shit.”

“Thank you,” Phineus sarcastically and yet apathetically replied.

“Yeah,” the guard said proudly, more at the fact that he was able to spot the silent rider. “My name’s Dak Nybin, I used to work on your TIE fighter back when you were a new guy. That was before I was reprimanded to this crap hole.”

Phin’s stare remained as blank as he can possibly get it, “Interesting.”

“Yup, so are you coming back?” Dak asked enthusiastically.

Phineus gently rubbed his forehead and let out a simple, tired sigh, “If they’ll have me.”

Dak bounced back and forth on his heels, “Yeah, of course. So where’s your big ship and your crew?”

“Vacation,” Phineus retorted.

“Ah, but aren’t you the captain? I mean, must be pretty lousy taking this old transport shut-”

The old shuttle trembled, not enough to cause one to spare a second thought about it, but enough to make a tall, skinny, uncoordinated man nearly fall to the deck. Dak’s knees buckled, his arms threw themselves upward, and his hips did some sort of unbridled shimmy. His jaw clenched and he poorly but successfully braced himself to prevent from falling flat onto his face.

Phineus couldn’t prevent the smile from springing onto his face, nor the small repetition of laughter that followed. Dak managed himself back to a more appropriate position and even stiffened his face as if to hide his embarrassment, which probably meant he was unaware of his face blushing like a ruby.

“You okay there, Dak?”

Dak wouldn’t be able to answer, as a second, more severe tremble vibrated through the hull; throwing him to his knees. This tremble felt different, and more violent closer to the stern.

“Frakking turbulence!” Dak exclaimed from his the floor.

“That wasn’t just turbulence,” Phin quickly stood to his feet and made his way to the cock pit.

He past the two recruits, who were cowering and clinging onto their seats. Inside the cockpit, the two navigational droids piloting the ship transferred readouts and system analytics back and forth. Phineus stopped in between the two.

“We have an engine out,” Phineus announced.

The droids replied in unison, “We know.”

“It’s the right one,” Phin said, dangerously enthusiastically.

“We know,” the droids repeated.

Phineus read the readouts himself, and drew the conclusion that at this rate of speed, at this angle, they would soon end up as scrap metal smeared across the back of the Suspense. He rolled his eyes at just how cheap the Empire was getting.

“But what you don’t know,” Phineus began calmly, “is how to fly. I’m Chief Petty Officer Phineus Gage and I’ll be taking over from here.”

Phineus took the pilot seat and disabled the auto flight path, and re-worked the shuttle’s sensitivity settings. He could now see the Suspense out of the viewport, and it was closer than what he would have liked. Just a mere two-hundred yards.

Dak steadied himself long enough to fumble his way into the cockpit. His blushed face was now steadily glistening with sweat.

“What’s the plan,” he asked faithfully.

“There’s good news,” Phineus said, eyes locked on the Suspense, “for people who love bad news.”

The shuttle bucked, and Dak stumbled forward before allowing himself to fall into the co-pilot droid’s lap. Dak turned back to the droid, his was twisted by annoyance.

“The shuttle is losing speed, but it’s losing maneuverability faster,” Phineus announced. He ran his left hand through his hair, let out a deep sigh, and continued. “Losing speed in this situation is bad since we can’t manipulate it fast enough to turn.”

Dak darted his eyes over Phineus, nervously,  “Then what do we do?”

Phineus chuckled under his breath then said, “Hold on. Tightly.”

A comm channel opened up on the communications panel, “Shuttle zero-one-three-zero, you’re wondering off your pre-determined route. Please report.”

“Uh, yeah this is Sicario,” Phineus paused, scratched the back of his neck, and carried on with a sense of unsure nature, “we lost an engine and I took over the yoke.”

“Sicario?” The male Naval officer repeated. “I wasn’t aware you were coming back.”

“Well, then I won’t blame you for this welcoming party,” Phineus said back.

The shuttle closed in on one-hundred and fifty yards from crashing into the Suspense, and Phineus still struggled to maneuver the poorly agile shuttle. He began transferring all of the ships energy into the remaining engine. The cabin lights flickered, the cooling units slowly stuttered to a stop, and the auto-nav system slowly faded to a smooth static.

“You turned of the auto-nav?” Dak asked more nervously than he had been. “You’re the only thing that can get this shuttle to safety now. You even disabled the emergency fire protocols!”

Phineus shrugged, “If anything, this should be fun.”

As the shuttle reached seventy-five yards, enough energy managed to be shifted into the remaining engine to donate seventeen percent more efficiency to the craft. Phineus aimed the nose as far right as it would go, closing in on the Suspense. He knew he had the ability, the confidence, the raw talent to steer the shuttle down into the hangar, going slow enough to skid across the Dura steel panels, crash into a few TIE fighters, and come to a safe and successful landing. He’d get chewed out and reprimanded, but what else was new?

“We’re not gonna make it,” Dak screamed as the shuttle was fifty yards away.

The shuttle turned as much as it could, the ion engine pushing to its limit. Beads of sweat ran down Phin’s face; his palms moist, barely clutching onto the yoke. Twenty yards, fifteen, ten.

It was at five yards when Phineus himself realized that they were in fact doomed. Soon after, the nose touched against the hull of the Suspense, buckled, and flattened. The rest of the shuttle quickly followed, became swallowed up by fire, and had it’s bits and pieces drift away into space. He had failed. His mother would soon see him as a failure.

“…Officer Gage? Officer Gage?” Dak attempted to wake up the Chief Petty Officer, who was in the deepest of slumbers.

Dak stretched out his arm and gave a gentle shake to Phin’s right shoulder before taking a step back and calling his name again. Phin’s eyes slowly opened, bloodshot but somehow beautiful, his pupils quickly shrinking as the lights from the Suspense’s hangar bays shone through the open exit chamber.

“You were out for the whole trip,” Dak said, “don’t know how you did it on this cramped heap of garbage.”

Phineus stood, slung his pack’s straps across his shoulders, “A little method you learn over the years.”

Dak looked unsure but smiled, nodded, and extended his hand out to the exit hatch, “Put in a good name for me.”

Phineus smirked and strolled down the exit ramp into the hangar bay. Chaotic as always; or possibly peaceful, depending on how one looked at it.

At least the Navy was still up and running, still doing what needed to be done.

Phineus ran his hand over his beard, took in a deep, overdrawn breath, and made his first steps as an Imperial pilot. Again. Again. He nodded at a few of the technicians he had remembered from the past, but made a subtle, albeit conscience effort to avoid any contact with anyone he didn’t want to see just yet. He made a sharp right out of the hanger, down corridor alpha-six, lit with a calming white-blue, down towards the squadron’s personal quarters. From within his inner breast pocket, he retrieved his papers informing him of his room number and key code. He rounded another corner, then another, finally bringing him to his shared quarters. Open entering the code and entering the small, stuffy room, he had made sure that he was alone. Once that was a surety in his mind, he entered the privacy lock code and took a seat in front of the cold, dura steel work table. He reached inside of his pack, dug around for a bit, and pulled out a small, mahogany wooden case, about eighteen inches wide, ten inches deep. It’s contents were a variety of assorted herbs and spices in individual tubes, all marked with their respective names were, along with which planet they were from. Phin’s pride and joy of his mini-take-along collection was the most rare- so rare in fact, no one in the galaxy was known to own any, aside from Phineus, and getting it wasn’t a necessarily easy task- was the Savorium herb.

Phin had ground up the herb prior to leaving on the Imperial shuttle, and had rolled a small handful of personal cigarras with papers made from the leaves of rashallo plants from Haruun Kal. Phineus plugged in his C3POD, turned on his favorite aubade-genre of music as he sat back, and drifted into the moment.

-Later-

The welcoming party consisted of meeting up with an old partner, Anden; and an old boss shooting things. The latter was part scary, part hilarious to Phineus. The former was part rejuvenating, part confidence restoring. Now, in the hanger bay, the two had a few more moments to catch up while they awaited to depart.

“…spent the rest of the month on Rishi,” Phineus told Anden.

“Get out of here,” Anden snickered, “better than still being held captive I suppose.”

Phineus nodded, quickly replaying the last few months of his life over in his head, “You have no idea.”

“I still don’t think that’s a good enough reason for that terrible excuse for facial hair you’re sporting,” Anden joked.

“You don’t think so,” Phin asked, rubbing his beard, “I kinda like it. Makes me look mature.”

“Or like a wookie’s backside,” Anden said as he climbed up into his TIE.

“Now that was low,” Phineus joked back, “be careful in the canyons.”

Anden nodded before he disappeared into the cockpit. Phineus gently tapped the hull of the TIE with his human hand, smiled, and walked over to his own TIE fighter.

“She looks good,” Phin commented to the engineer who made some adjustments to the fighter. The engineer smiled and thanked Phineus as Phin climbed up into the TIE.

Before he strapped in the crash webbing, Phineus reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a sticker and a picture. The picture was of his mother; it was the same picture he had always taken with him on flights, taping it to the cockpit prior to departure. He felt safe that way. The sticker? The sticker was of a cute little kitten. It was an inside joke between him and some old pilots of an prank that was once pulled on him. It didn’t make him feel safe or secure, but it did make him smile; and when you’re alone in a cramped cockpit in the middle of space, sometimes that’s all you need. That, and the calming sense of happiness, peace, and joy the savorium herb created. By now, Phineus had learned to control himself from constantly smiling or giggling from the effects, and had been able to focus more on his piece of mind, and seeing what was around him more clearly. Not to mention he always mixed the herb with a calming spice to keep him alert, focused, and in a continuous state of peace and mellowness.

Phineus glided his TIE fighter above Anden’s as he swooped in and out, up and down, left and right through the canyons. He felt as in the zone as ever; owning complete concentration on his piloting. Since communication hadn’t been open as of yet, there was nothing to enter his mind to disturb him from his flying; that appeared to have been more refined since he last flew for the Navy. He wasn’t as jumpy or sporadic; instead he replaced those traits with precision and efficiency. His mind was at a total ease, and he had never felt more sure of himself. The canyon walls bended and curved at various points, causing for heads-up awareness on turns and speed shifts. Nothing the esteemed Viper pilots couldn’t handle. Not yet, at least.


_______________________________________________________

Words- 2,418
“Phin…you are one odd quack."
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bjorkfrid
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bjorkfrid
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 9, 2009 11:51:59 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
“Ok Li'ary, Kyrios and Skorge are coming into docking range.” Cali's voice was dry from her the regulated air of her flightsuit.

Jolinar nodded a robotic confirmation. She was brandishing a blaster rifle and stood crouched in front of her seat. The butt of the rifle shook against the floor as Cali swooped the Xg-1 alongside the hulking convoy that rumbled through the barren wasteland. The landscape was bleached by the Epsilon system's sun, engulfing the dull planet with its fierce ray reducing all that Cali could see to a pale fiery haze. The cockpit was like heat conductor and both Cali and Jolinar where sweltering under the intense light. The Xg-1 lacked the modern technology of view port light sensitivity sensors meaning whatever the conditions the cockpit screen remained the same muddy grey. Cali tried to keep the craft stable and its velocity matched with leading A-A5 transport. Its hull was rusted by the unrelenting heat of the desert, the whole vehicle looked as if it would disintegrate if tapped too hard. It shook and rumbled loudly like an irritable beast on its slow inevitable journey to death.

The two assault-gun boats where lined up beside the two leading transports jostling against the harsh dessert wind. Conditions would only get worse. In a silent chanting prey Cali flicked the console control to open the cockpit screen. For a second there was no sound followed suddenly by an almighty gush of wind. Jolinar bucked against the lip of her seat bringing her arm up in reflex to shelter her from the constant torrent. Cali instinctively squinted her eyes despite the protection avoided to her by her flight helmet, she turned to signal to Jolinar that they where ready to begin their ad-hoc docking procedures. The craft strained from the back draft of wind and Cali yanked hard on the control yoke to prevent them from skimming the fatal rocky surface. With a rifle blaster in one hand and a wielding rifle in another Jolinar crouched next to right side of assault-gun boat. At their current speed any minor slip could be disastrous but Cali would have to trust Jolinar and her experience. Her sister in arms was re-known in the squadron for her past exploits as part of the Navy's raiders unit which is why Cali had chosen her for this particular task. Cali raised a fist to signal Jolinar to engage. As the wind sliced back her slight black figure Jolinar leapt from the Xg-1 with an audible snarl. She hung in the air for a brief second more Mandalorian then the Twi'lek. An eternal warrior frozen in the coursing dessert gust.

The wielder rifle emitted a gleaming white flame as Jolinar's body slammed against the side panelling of the ancient convoy. She clung to embarking rivets with her blaster hand and scrambled her heels against the eroded hull. Cali immediately banked away from the convoy to avoid crushing her co-pilot. With the cockpit still open the craft lurched lethargically and several lose bits of scrap flew out of the rear of the compartment glittering in the blistering light. She pulled the craft free from the thundering progression of the convoy preying that Jolinar had not been blown off to her death. There was no time for much thought as the cockpit screen splintered into a thousand shards. Laser fire sprayed across the top of her craft as below her a QH-7 Chariot continued to volley shots. The broken shards became caught up in the wind eddying violently around her. She yelped in pain as several darts of glass slashed her left arm slicing through her flightsuit as if where delicate cotton. She let go of the yoke in response to the striking laceration sending the assault-boat into a lazy barrel-roll. Her legs flew up into body as the gravity pulled her down towards the planets surface. The right boot became stuck in the skeletal framework of the broken cockpit lid. As the craft righted itself her leg remained lodged upright stretching her body as it flailed in the torrent of wind, glass and laser fire.

Cali could barely get her hands back onto the control yoke and has she leant forward to get her arms around the her immobilized leg sending a jolt of pain throughout her body.  She managed to turn the underside of her hull towards the barrage of laser fire to soak the onslaught of the QH-7 Chariot. The Xg-1 console was berserk with error warnings and read-outs indicating system failure. Her sense where overloaded with pain and terror. She could not breath and her leg was becoming numb. Through all the chaos, a panel on the console blipped to signal that the A-A5 hull had been breached. Somewhere beneath Cali's failing ship at least something was going to plan.

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

Hasen Hiklok pulse was racing. It had been ordinary shift, no surprises a slight downturn in the amount of ore they had shifted since last rotation but that was to be expected given the dwindling resources of this blasted rock. He had not anticipated this however. The old A-A5 growled in protest as the pilot Hasen's forth cousin removed, Alesasha Grishen tried to a coax a little more power outer of the aged engines. Hasen wiped his brow with a dirty hand, smearing the dust from the mine across his crossed eyes brows as he tried to study the barely operating read-outs from the console. The transport groaned and shuddered as Alesasha replotted its course across less than flat terrain.

“Will it even hold if you take it over the teeth?” His voice was desperate.

“What other options,” The hull creaked and Alesasha gripped the control panel his arms a blur from the bone shattering vibrations. “What other options,” He began again. “Do we have? I can't even get this hulk to give me a clear identification on these guys.” He turned his head up to face Hasen who was leant over the back of his chair. “I can't see anything in this wind storm. It could be a group undead Mandalorian's for all we can tell.” Hasen placed his hand on Alesasha in an attempt to reassure him.

“We've just got to cover the corridor and then we'll be in range of the colony's response signal...” Alesasha cursing interputed Hasen as the transport leered out of his control.

“That's a fair number of clicks away Has. We need to get our Chariots up the line.” Alesasha thumped his fist against the console as a third of the lights dimmed as the engine drew more power to cope with rapidly uneven gradient of the planet's surface below them.

“I already got them coming up. They should buy us some time. I just wish we knew what we're dealing with.” Hasen peered on the rear monitor and could make the ungainly silhouette of one such Chariot slowly making its way up alongside one of the transports in the middle.

“Do think the union bosses want to send us a message over our last meeting when we asked a raise.” Alesasha cocked an eyebrow and gritted grin as the sweat ran down his face.

Hasen managed a laugh. “Oh I wouldn't be surprised. This'll be part of their negotiations I'm sure I'm going to check on cargo and the men. If we get a leak I don't want us sleeping for our funeral.” Hasen made his way to the rear of the compartment. He held tightly to the top of the door frame as the transport buckled from vibration after vibration. Flicking his head back to Alesasha who sat hunched double over the control like a man begging for forgiveness at a sovereign's knees Hasen said; “Steer us home friend.”

In the main section of the A-A5 was housed the storage containers that the miners used to haul the precious ore back to the refinery plant. The planet produced the much sorted Porisium formed by the clustering of tightly compacted chemical compounds. Under the intense heat of the Epislon system's heat these compounds remained liquefied and could be extracted for refinement. The final product, Porsium was used for the construction of tractor beam crystals. Effectively the liquid could be crystallized with the trapped compounds in a constant state of reaction the result of which replicated the pulling force required for a tractor beam. Intensified, Porsium could exert a gravity pull of up to seven thousands times its size.  Hasen had worked with the substance all his adult life, to him it represented the steady roll of credits into his account, the stability of such a life though not glamorous was reliable.

As the hull shook in desperation Hasen held onto the frail piping system that ran like a skeletal snake throughout the vehicle. Most of the miners usually used the haul back as a chance to catch up on lost sleep given the exertion their bodies had suffered in the mines. Sprawled out on the makeshift benches a group of dishevelled men lay in various states of discomfort and slumber. They all emitted their own unique frequency of snoring like a group of sub-aquatic animals vying for the attention of a far off mate.  His knees buckled as he passed the men, some where cousins, distant and removed. Others though not related felt as close as kin, the whole colony had grown stronger as family. They where an insulated bubble that had turned its back to the upheaval of the wider galaxy.  There was piercing noise like a demonic wail of a mythical harpy; Hasen fell into the side panel his arms grazed against the rusty piping. The metal of the wall grew hot under his bleeding arm baking his blood. He reeled in pain as to his disbelief a blinding white spark began to pierce through the old beast’s hull. The line of light cut down directly barely missing his body. Several of the men nearby awoke casting out curses and exclaiming at Alesasha’s driving ability. Hasen crawled forward as the room descending into chaos the grumbling voices of discontent giving way to panic. The metal panel dropped onto the dirty ground with a crash that echoed around the the central hull. The flame cutting the metal had caused the room to fill with a sickly smelling smoke, Hasen cupped his mouth as he heard nearby the uncontrollable spluttering of one his fellow miners. Through the foul haze he could discern a black silhouette, a figure with what to him to appeared to posses two large protruding pincers where hands where usually found.

“Stay down! You belong to me now.” The voice burst through the smoke, each word decaying into a metallic fuzz.

Despite his usual common sense Hasen began to skulk to his feet but was cut short of his attempts as red laced blaster fire sprayed several inches in front of his clunky boots. The sound of the blaster rifle alone caused him to fall back into a crumbled heap.

“I mean it.” The figure came into a discernible view. Covered in a sooty black flight suit a slight figure brandishing a blaster rifle and what appeared to be a wielding rifle.

A large hulk of a miner howled and came at the mysterious figure with a hydro-wrench. The black apparition allowed the man to approach with his full and considerable weight. As the he brought the wrench down the intruder flicked the miner onto their hips using the force of the rotund man's weight and sent him hurling out of the freshly cut gap they had just cut. The man screamed in disbelief, Hasen knew at their current speed the miner, Franzi Dals, would now be smeared across the bleached desert floor. He made a lunge towards the callous murderer. His body hit the deck hard. The blaster fire had caught him in his right arm, the smell of burnt flesh almost caused him to pass out in shock. Before he could recover a black boot stroke him at full force in his bent-doubled gut. His body wretched and Hasen's face connected with floor and pool of his own vomit. All around him he heard gasps of disbelief and yelling followed by the steady monotone thud of blaster fire. Darkness followed shortly thereafter.

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

Amongst Cali's tangled frame emitted a distant sounding voice;

“Nine, have made contact with the leading transport. Receiving over.”

Jolinar voice sounded as equally tangled in chaos as Cali's precarious situation. The chariot continued to tag her Xg-1 with fire and her leg had grown completely numb from its painful suspension. Her hands slipped from the steering yoke causing her to exclaim in hurt as her whole weight pulled on the dead leg. The sand air  whistled through her cockpit, the tiny particles flew by in abrasion against her cut arm, working their deeper into the wound becoming one with her bloodstream. She threw a hand up to yoke and dragged the ship downwards, her sensors warned her of the proximity of the A-A5 below her. Continuing to pull the assault-gunboat down she used her free foot and brought it up onto to the console and using the heel of her boot brought her missiles online. The beeping sound of her console was submerged by the intense howl of the desert. A long continuous hum signalled the missiles had required a positive lock. With another bang of her leg she let loose a single missile into the top hull of the A-A5 below her.

There was hardly a gap from release before the entire of her vision was engulfed in smoke as a ball of fire exploded below her. The belly of her craft bounced from the thermal up-draft. She toggled her engine power to insignificance. The ship began an ungraceful somersault, Cali felt her body change with the direction of gravity. She closed her eyes as her she fell from her seat into the remains of cockpit cover. Her leg finally gave way from tangled frame and she accelerated through the cloud of smoke. The assault-gunboat sailed over her like a cloud of metal and began descent to the desert floor, its final place of obliteration.

The missile impact had not penetrated the transports hull. There could not be any time to brace for the impact. She slammed against the top side of the transport and screamed in agony. Immediately the velocity of the transport caused her bruised body to roll towards the rear of the vehicle. Cali reached her gloved hand out for some kind of hold to prevent her from slipping off to her death. Her clenched fist smashed into satellite receiver unit that draw in her spinning in a tight circle around its spindle design. Her eyes opened. All around her was the opaque curtain of whirling sand, her breath was shallow.

To Jolinar, who could not hear, she mouthed the words, “Copy, Li'ary.”
FL/PO2 Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
Sicario
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 12, 2009 3:40:47 AM    View the profile of Sicario 
One thing that droids or computers could never understand was why many starfighter pilots would sometimes prefer manual flight on extended travels as opposed to sitting back and letting the navigational computer to take control. The reason was simple; a pilot was a pilot. Often with many pent up emotions laying not too under the surface; and sometimes they just want to fly, and feel that control and that constant threat of death, from many an enemy.

It was just that style of personally flying through the canyons that Phineus kept engaged for the entire flight. Relaxing into every turn, every minute motion he made, subtle yet noticeable enough. Enough to make one have a fun flight. Enough to make one feel in control.

As if the comm channel chatter beeing all but existent wasn’t bad enough, his TIE fighter’s targeting and scanning computers had been knocked out as well. Phin wondered whether or not he was the only one with this problem- which would be a much larger problem- but had no way of knowing, and had to play it as though every other Viper’s TIE was sending and receiving its read outs with each passing nanosecond, perfectly on point to give the pilots exactly what they needed to know, and exactly when they needed to know it; and heavily rely on them. He gently let back on the thrusters, slowing down and easing back behind Anden’s own fighter. Beneath his black flight mask, his skin slowly and steadily leaked out cold sweat; it slowly matriculated from the top of his hairline, softly rolling, until the beads all came to their eventual stop, collecting in Phineus’ scruffy beard. It had been awhile since he last flew in the anticipation-driven pre-mission cruise on his way to the rally location. It’s not so much that he was nervous for the mission; as it was the build up over dramatizing his current emotional patterns. Luckily, the herbs he had partaken in pre-flight had leveled his head; gave his brainwaves a chance to calm down- to sit on the couch and relax for a moment. Thinking decreased; there was too much concentration to think. Flying was truly, above all else, a major battle between concentrating and thinking. If you think, you die. That’s all there was to it. Good job, but you failed. You gave it your best, but you were bested. If you concentrate, and go deaf to your thoughts and let your body take over; well, you are what’s known as “in the zone.” And completely untouchable. And that was the truth, there was no in-between. You either think or you concentrate. You either die, or live. Kill, or get killed. Flying wasn’t the marines; pilots weren’t the storm troopers. This was a game of lack of strategy, lack of thinking, lack of too much planning, if any at all. It was purely, one-hundred percent instinct. It was chess, where you forget every move after it you make it. Phineus was always good with instinct.

The fighters drew over the canyons, and came to the clearing. The sunlight sliced into the viewports, creating a pretty picture, but ultimately ineffective to upsetting the pilots view, thanks to the flight mask. Before Phineus expected it- quite some time before- shots were fired, explosions were set off, noise was everywhere. Viper glided over the desert ground that was so dry- coupled with the immaculate brightness of the sun- even looked hot. There were vehicles and minor defenses and vehicles that looked like minor defenses. It was clear, thanks to the ensuing violence, that these were the pirates. This was the moment Phineus flew for, even lived for. The moment were the enemy is spotted; where the enemy attacks. Where innocent lives are in danger, and the Imperial Pilots come jetting through the atmosphere, here to save the day. The heroic men and woman who are earning their hero-making medals at these upcoming moments. It was the moment where Phineus could protect, to defend, to win, to be seen as a hero. This part of the mission was simple. Get in, take out the pirates before they get to the miners, every single one. The less miner casualties, the higher the acclaim for each member of the operation. And a shiny new hero named Phineus Gage.

He placed his index finger on the yoke’s trigger.

Missiles were fired from the ground below; Phineus peered through his peripherals and thought he saw a number of pilots get nicked, or even full on target hit. His scanning signals were still offline, still to his belief that it was only happening to him. These were the pirates that had come to terrorize the mining colony; and the mining militia was most likely far to weak to stop them. A perfect interception by the Viper pilots, yet again. Phineus flew by the ground forces, and began to round his way back to make another pass. This was when total concentration showcased its one and only flaw- not being able to focus on much around you if it isn’t directly ahead of you. The herb did that to you. In that split second of faulty vision, a laser missile blasted off and bit off the entire left wing of Phin’s TIE. It began shaking uncontrollably, and then took off into a rapid end-over-end trip for the ground. There was fire, there was smoke, there was red earth. There was a bloody pilot, with blood shot eyes, out of consciousness. 

-Ten minutes later-

Phineus finally came to, his consciousness being born into a world that was a cacophony of gunfire and explosions, though he wouldn’t know it. His hearing was gone, replaced by a high pitched shriek that seemed to last forever and if anything, only intensify. His eyesight was still there, although everything seemed ten times brighter than it should’ve been. He struggled lifting his arms, they felt as though each one weighed five-hundred pounds and were made of Dura steel. Though, one of his arms sort of was. When the correct amount of strength was able to be exerted, Phineus did just that, and lifted the flight mask clear off. The herb had made him feel extremely paranoid, and his current hearing predicament and him witnessing several explosions far too close to his on-fire-enough-as-it-was TIE fighter didn’t help the matter at all. It was at that moment when Phin’s hearing went from that suicide-thought inducing shriek to absolute nothingness. Not even the sound of space; which, in part, -was- the sound of space. There was quite literally, in this violent circumstance, absolutely nothing. Time had slowed down as Phineus noticed that it had to have taken a full minute to blink; fires were rising as though they had just woken up the morning after a drunken, late night adventure. The laser fire, raining from the skies, slowly and rhythmatically  hit the ground, causing mini-flare explosions as they made contact.

“Waaaaaaa!” The utter silence was terrifyingly brought to its demise by the shriek of a woman on fire, from head to toe, and the sound of her fists punching the cockpit’s viewport.

Phineus, to put it simply, freaked.

“Gah!” He screamed, “What the frak?!”

Before even disengaging the crash webbing, Phineus shot his right arm down his body, to his right thigh where he subsequently un-latched his blaster pistol holster. In the next half of a mili-second, Phineus concentrated. His mind ceased working, his body just moved in a natural rhythm all its own. He grasped the handle on his M-70, personally custom, semi-automatic pistol. He withdrew it, aimed between the burning woman’s eyes, and pulled the trigger. Three times. Blood ran down the viewport, trailing the woman’s head as she slumped to the desert floor.

Phineus finally took the short amount of time needed to blink. Although that short time felt like an hour in his dazed state. He un-latched his crash webbing, yanked the lever in front of his left shoulder, which blew off the cockpit’s viewport, allowing him to step out into the bright orange-red atmosphere, pistol in hand. His eyes squinted from the light of the sun, and his face twisted in optical and physical discomfort. Laser blasts ran past him, small arms fire it seemed, and that’s when his eyes made contact with another pirate. This one a man, about six feet tall, shooting what sounded like a regular slug thrower- albeit -everything- sounded like the thud of bantha marching at the moment. Phineus lifted his arm, roughly guesstimated his aim, and fired two more times. He hit the pirate in the right arm, then the right eye. The pirate fell to his knees and then to his face; creating the very pool of blood he would die in. Phineus turned back to the TIE, ducked back inside and withdrew his spare comm unit. He put it to his bloody lips.

“Hello? Can anybody hear me? Does anybody copy?”

He asked, pleaded, begged. There was nothing but static on the other end.

“Hello?! This is Sicario, I’ve made contact with the Pirates. Repeat; made contact, two kills. Do you copy?”

The static agreed in its own, cruel way. His mind was in a complete absent state; there was no thinking, just instinctual concentration. He backed out of the TIE once more, and turned around to the sight of three pirates, standing side by side, with vibro-swords in one of each of the pirates hands. They were three feet away, not allowing Phin enough time to aim and shoot before he was hacked into bits of bite-sized pieces. Instead, he holstered the pistol, and made his move. He quick stepped over to the man to his far right, who swung his sword from twelve o’clock down to six; Phineus hoisted his right hand out in front of his body, catching the blade on the way down. Now, since his mechanical hand and forearm was connected to his nerves, he had some feeling still. However. Only tiny amounts of stinging could be felt, not enough to prevent him from using it as a shield. The metals clanged together, as Phineus lifted a swift right kick into the pirate’s rib cage, crumpling him in half. Phin brought his left fist up over the pirate’s head and came down violently, knocking the man down to the ground. The middle pirate lunged at Phin’s ankles, which he countered merely by leaping over the sweeping blade. He then threw an uppercut, landing so hard that the metallic right hand of his rung out against the man’s jaw. The pirate’s neck snapped back, violently breaking with a crunch. As the man went down, Phineus caught his sword, and blocked the oncoming swing of the last pirate. Phineus shoved away the pirate’s blade with his own, then brought it back across himself from left to right, slicing open the pirate’s stomach. His eyes popped as wide open as they could go, his jaw dropped in shock, and his body caved in and dropped. Phineus dropped the blade, turned to his left, and noticed a small defense hut with another pirate waiting inside, loading his blaster rifle. Amidst the chaos, Phineus managed to creep his way some twelve yards, avoiding laser fire from all sides, and snuck up to the hut’s opening. He reached behind his back, and withdrew his FSK-7 combat knife. He slowly crouched closer to the pirate, knife held tight in his right hand, reverse gripped and the edge facing out. In one fluid motion he shot up from his knees, wrapped his arms around the pirate’s neck, and positioned the blade to his jugular.

“There’s a mis-” the pirate muttered from his choked throat, as Phineus sliced open his neck.

This was it; Phineus thought, fueled by adrenaline. This is for the miners. This is my moment to play the hero.

Phineus holstered the knife, and reequipped his M-70. He stepped outside the hut, and caught one pirate in the throat as the man ran up with a Dura steel rod in his hand. Another one dropped. With his left hand he reached across to his right shoulder holster and withdrew his DL-44, and pressed on through the barren land.

Directly overhead, enough so to make Phin flinch and duck down for a moment, flew TIE’s chasing headhunter’s, and headhunter’s chasing TIE’s. There was as much chaos in the air as there was on the ground. Without any form of warning, Phin’s left should rapidly began burning. He looked down to assess the situation, and noticed he had been shot from close range. His head swiveled upwards and to the right, he raised his two pistols, and opened fire, shredding into two more pirate’s. One was even armed with a piece of shrapnel.

Makes sense, he thought, pirate’s would resort to that sort of thing.

He sprinted ahead, towards two defense turrets, and kneeled behind two wooden crates not twenty yards behind.  He stood, aimed for the pirate on the left turret first, fired twice and took out his target. The pirate from the right turret jumped off, and before Phineus saw much else, his face began to burn as debris and shrapnel ripped into his face from an explosion that shook the ground he stood on. He felt something heavy hit his left hand; he dropped his DL-44. The same feeling on his right hand, the same result with his M-70. His eyes opened again, blood streaming down the right, and he was met with the pirate lunging at him with a flashlight held tightly in his left hand. Phineus lunged back, sprung into the air and punched the pirate on his way down, the popping sound his nose made on impact was unmistakable. The pirate dropped, Phineus picked up his M-70. Two more pirates ran, but not at Phineus, instead to the aid of the knocked out, broken nosed attacker. Phineus’ body acted before his eyes made sense of it all, and he aimed, and he pulled the trigger. The first target shrieked at the top of her lungs, Phineus blinked. His arm shifted down and to the left, to a young pirate who had tears screaming louder than him, down his cheeks. Phineus acted, pulled the trigger, the young pirate dropped. Immediately after, no time for Phineus to move, he was struck in the spine, and dropped to his knees. He fell and hit the ground hard on his elbows, quickly turned over, and witnessed his attacker strike him in the ribs with some chrome blunt object. Phineus leg swept and knocked the attacker on his back. Phineus jumped on top of the man, middle aged with stressful features, and held the pistol to his forehead.

Phineus blinked; he kept the barrel of the pistol against the pirate’s head, and looked up at the chaos. A TIE fighter and crash landed, the pilot didn’t make it at all, the fiery blaze consumed everything inside. Phineus looked back down at the pirate.

“I hate you,” he pulled the trigger.

-In the air-

Louli dove in and out of the oncoming fire from the two headhunters chasing at top speed. The Navy pilot’s skill was far outmatched, and the headhunters made contact. Lasers ripped into the TIE’s hull, sparking flames, and even drew a small explosion before hitting the ground. Louli was burning, her crash webbing even melted away as the pilot stumbled out of the fighter, burning on the hot desert floor. As Louli rolled over and over, trying to kill the flames, succeeding at cause sand to enter into her burnt flesh. Four pirates, all looking like a classic, brawling pirates, ran up to Louli. The pirates beat her with their hands, quickly withdrew, then hit again, over and over.

“C’mon,” one exclaimed, “get everywhere!”

Phineus looked up from fifteen yards away, at his blurry vision made out the scene of pirates setting fire and killing the young pilot. The screams could be heard for miles away it seemed, and the yelling of the pirates was mixing in nicely.

“No,” Phineus whispered.

He was appalled, disgusted by the sight. He had never felt such a mix of sadness and hatred since he killed his father, years ago. One of his own, one of his friends, one of his partners was getting savagely murdered right in front of his eyes. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Noo!” He yelled in fierce anger.

He stood, holstered the pistol, and grabbed the blunt object from his attacker’s dead hands. His sprint was powerful, and quick, moving into range of the pirates within seconds. He came up to the first, cocked his arm back, and delivered a fatal blow to the back of his head, crushing his skull, and dropping him to the ground. Phineus strafed over a foot or two to his second target, swung back and struck the victim’s stomach, then another blow on the back on his neck. Phineus threw down the rod, and struck the third with his bare hands. Phineus made the pirate stumble enough for him to turn around and attack the fourth pirate. This pirate was prepared however, and ducked from Phin’s right hook. He then stood, dove at, and tackled Phineus to the ground. In his left hand, he took a  palm full of Phin’s hair to hold him to the ground. In his right hand, a fist, that he began to continuously bring down upon Phin’s face like a hammer. Phineus reached for his knife, gripped it, and brought it into the pirate’s chest, and proceeded to kick him off. Bloody and bruised, Phineus stood, and narrowed his brow at the remaining pirate.

“This territory will soon be the Navys, and the minors will be safe. You failed. ” Phin Phin gloated over the roar of the violence.

“You fool,” the pirate said back, “you don’t know what your up against.”

Phineus took out his pistol, aimed, and muttered, “Today, the Navy were heroes.” With that, he pulled the trigger, and the pirate fell.

The sudden rush of adrenaline and fear and deep desire for survival began to slow, giving Phineus his coordination back. He single handedly took out a handful of pirates, risking his life for the civilian miners. He was one of the heroes.

He wiped the blood from off his mouth on his sleeve and withdrew his com.

“Can anyone copy? I’m on the ground and need transport. Over.”

_____________________________________________

Words- 3,079

OOC:
I'm really going all out on the moral thing, hence why I made it so that he killed all those people without really stopping to think, rushing into it. So he's completely unaware at what he just did.
“Phin…you are one odd quack."

Viper Squadron Stay active, and we won't kill you
Skorge
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Skorge
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 12, 2009 9:28:01 AM    View the profile of Skorge 
Kyrios piloted the Xg-1 just over the transport, Skorge took out a welding rifle, primed it and then started to ready himself for battle. Weapons... check
suit systems... check

Skorge looked at Kyrios and said, "Do it."

The canopy over the cock pit flew open, Skorge leaped for the transport, landed with a thud and then started to slide off. Skorge knowing that in a few feet he'd fall to his death, pressed a button on his right gauntlet. A long serrated bladed came out the side of his arm, Skorge smashed it into the side of the hull, he slide for a few feet and stopped, his feet were hanging off the edge. Skorge rolled over on his belly and started climbing towards the top part of the ship's hull. The wind was intense, if it weren't for his armor he would have been sand blasted by now.

He took the welding gun and began cutting through, within a few minutes he breached the hull. Skorge stood up looking down in the hole, wind and sand blew across his armor. He took a step and dropped into the hole, Skorge landed with a metallic clang. His heartbeat monitor showed that there was two people in front of him and and behind him. Skorge stood up slowly and made sure he was at his full height. The group in front of him trembled, at the sight.

The two people behind Skorge charged forward, Skorge pulled a vibro-dagger from his ankle and drove it through one of the miner's skull. The other one was met with the iron gauntlet, Skorge could feel his nose break, the man fell back wards and held his nose. The other two miners raced towards Skorge. Skorge met one with a kick sending him down the hall a few feet. The other one was met with a more gruesome fate. The second man tackled Skorge and the two fell towards the floor. Skorge rolled on top of him, while grabbing the welding gun, Skorge took the welding gun and ignited it on top of the man's face. The miner screamed for a second but was soon dead.

The miner with the broken nose got on his feet, Skorge drew his DC-15 and shoot him between the eyes. Skorge turned to see the miner he had kicked earlier. The man just witnessed the mandalorian's wrath, and now he was walking towards him. Skorge grabbed the man and asked in a metallic voice asked, were is the your command center. The miner point down the hall, Skorge look in the direction the man was pointing, dropped him, and with out looking shot him twice in the chest.

Skorge made his way down the hall, and with in seconds was in the the transport's command center. He looked around the dimly lit hallway to see if there were anymore minners who felt like getting in his way, there were none. Skorge drew his second pistol and was now akimbo styling two blasters. He moved through the doors and entered a room full of decripit monitors, and sensors, the he saw a man who stood out from the rest, "the captain" Skorge thought. He shot in the ship captain's direction, and growled, "You and your ship belong to me!"

"12 this is 13, I'm in." said Skorge
"I hear voices in my head, they talk to me, they understand, they talk to me."
"They tell me things that I will do, they show me things I do to you, they talk to me."
FM/LCR Skorge/Viper 12/Pheonix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/(=A=)
[This message has been edited by Skorge (edited November 12, 2009 9:30:53 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Skorge (edited November 12, 2009 9:41:47 AM)]
bjorkfrid
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bjorkfrid
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 16, 2009 8:59:15 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
“Joles!” Cali's voice burned with the smouldering concoction of dust and fumes from the leaking Porsium containers. “Jole! What's our current status?!”

There was no answer. The main hull of the A-A5 was filled with smoke; Cali stumbled through the murk tripping over piping, debris, limbs... She shuddered at the thought. Her vomit had been shed much earlier once she had managed to crawl through the roof lid to the transport. In front of her hazy vision she could discern the entrance to driver's cabin. A bundle of wires hung down like the vines of a parasitical plant, adorned to the trunk of the A-A5. Elbowing the hanging mass of electronic fauna Cali staggered into a wall of sirens and whirls indicating an ever failing engine system. The view-visor was covered in a thick immovable layer of compacted sand. Her eyes flickered over the scene, scarcely believing what she saw.

A man, a boy even, laid bent double over the co-pilots chair. His head was lulled full tilt backwards with eyes blearily staring at a godless sky. A dark figure, shadowed in dirty white dust was hunched at the controls. Above the wailing backdrop of sounds, Cali could clearly discern the sound of sobbing. Short inhales of hurt in between a sound indicating a decompression in their repulsion lift. The unmistakable face of a Naval flight helmet store vacantly up at Cali's stunned expression. It lay discarded on the rumbling floor, the left eye sock was shattered and the upper cranium looked like it had been scorched by fire. With uneven steps she made her way across the scene of death coming to rest next to her fellow crewman.

Together they re-routed the transport to the encrypted coordinates that Naval Intelligence had provided Viper. The rest of the squadron must be taking care of things as the Chariot's appeared to be no longer riding parallel with convoy. A small unit on the console glimmered a dull green indicating successful signal had been made with the home colony. Cali moved her hand towards the light but a scuffed butt of a blaster rifled splintered the emerald bulb into a myriad of crystal shards.
Jolinar threw the carbine behind her and wiped her wet face with her other equally scuffled arm. She looked a wreck, her brow was knitted in fierce concentration but Cali suspected it was more in aid of fighting back her emotion then it was concerned with the piloting.

For the first time since Cali had sat beside her, Jolinar spoke. Her voice was barely a whisper. In her native language she chanted a simple phrase several times. The words did not possess any particular meaning. They were the nonsense words from childhood, rhymes of word playing with sounds of her and Cali's mother tongue. Although the dialect was different to Cali's the rising incantation played on a familiar idea that Cali had learned from her own mother. The intensity of such an intimate recollection seemed surreal in their current situation surrounded as they where with chaos and death. Cali, however, found herself mouthing the syllables along with Jolinar joining her whisper with her own faltering melody. Alesasha showed no signs of joining in on the Twi’lek’s duet.

A faint sound emitted from the discarded flight-helmet as if it had gained its own voice.

“Thirteen confirming we have control. Repeat we have control.” It was Skorge’s unmistakable voice, bleach of all emotional attachment.

Cali picked up the helmet and placed it awkwardly on the console in front of her. The helmet starred back blankly as Skorge’s decapitated voice continued on.

“Thirteen confirming, this vessel belongs to m…us.” She reached underneath the neck piece and removed the small inbuilt voice unit.

“Confirm thirteen. This is nine, bring up the mid-section of the convoy, we don’t want any going wayward, roger.” She glanced at Jolinar who still under her breathe chanted to herself. Jolinar’s eyes seemed clouded by her own internal storm, the intense sun-light reducing her pupils to thin slits of blackness.

“Orders received nine.” The black skull-like helmet went dead. The cabin vibrated with a continuous hum. Jolinar flicked her fingers across the panel to route further power into the repulsor drive. They fell silent as the blank canvas of endless sand before them rolled onwards towards an endless horizon.

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

“Congratulations Viper. I shall make sure this day get’s the recognition in deserves at high-command.” Lieutenant Grey, in the screen-crawling flesh stood before what remained of Viper squadron.

In the dimly lit hangar of the Badajoz spacestation, they stood at attention as the woman, mounted on a make-shift podium of ammunition crates addressed their fatigued bodies. Cali’s body ached in every possible location; the Vast Empire in all their magnanimity had not given Viper a full bacta supply and their where others in the squadron in where far more need of the healing substance than herself. Even with what she had self-diagnosed as dislocated knee she had by no means suffered the worse from their little exercise in the sun.

“Myself and chief-petty officer Rutian will be escorting the remaining evacuees personally back to Abrae where their intelligence will prove vital for our next phase.” Cali shuddered despite the throbbing pain as the thing that passed for her fellow species hissed in elation. To her side, Jolinar gently touched her on the shoulder, her hands cooling the mixture of rage and exasperation boiling within. It was the first sign of emotion and contact, her li’ary had shown since Cali had staggered into that A-A5 cabin. The first flicker of compassion since Cali had staggered over all that chaos all those unidentified bodies. Cali’s right lekku brushed over her co-pilots light-blue skin. Joles hadn’t said a word to no-body upon their arrival back to the spinning bucket of bolts that passed for a space station.

“Though I’m pleased with your success I do hope you will be more efficient in the future Viper. Four write-off craft is simply not acceptable but luckily for you I have been instructed to use those statistics in our favour. Always helps to have a little strewn in with the natives adds to the sympathy vote.” Her voice relished the words as the crew stood in silent mixtures of agony and stress.

Cali stood and watched the creature carry on at the political but she was focused solely on her own internal malady. She had met the objectives required of her position. She had gotten the remainders, the remaining evacuees, the hostages, the prisoners, those not butchered by her friends, under her orders; she had handed them over into the jaws of Grey and all the toys of the Intelligence department. Of greater importance, she had survived and she clung to the quickening of her heart, the intensity that came with the realization of her own rushing blood. That was the only sensation that spoke to her. In the absorption of her own haggard vitality she failed to notice the blood-red hair of her fellow flight-leader storm out in the middle of Grey’s sardonic ceremony.


OOC:
I wanted to leave the carnage off the page so we could more time to reflect on the emotional damage this as done those in Viper. Post your post-mission stress/relish/thoughts and get ready for phase three of this ever twisted moral maze
FL/PO2 Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited November 17, 2009 8:26:22 AM)]
Ibram Tyrol
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Ibram Tyrol
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 16, 2009 10:15:25 AM    View the profile of Ibram Tyrol 
The next day
Badajoz Space Station


Sitting on the chair in his office, Ibram realised he hadn't had any sleep for two days now. Even after the first skirmish over Epsilon Beta, which had gone so smoothly it had made him sick, he had managed to sleep at least... but now? He stared bleary eyed at the reports on his front desk from his pilots. Louli dead, Zala in a coma, Phin crashing and taking several "pirates" with him whilst on the ground...

The colony itself had been hit, the convoy was destroyed with Cali and Cadie both reporting kills... the list went on.  All so that Intelligence could have their little PR victory. Ibram shuddered to think of the lives Viper had taken today.... He didn't know how much more of this he could take, or how long he could keep things a secret.

And then there were those poor souls we had to give over to Grey, all for this damned-able pretext, he thought.

He stood up and walked over to the wall display, which was currently displaying a top-down view of the local star system. With any luck, this little 'dark' chapter in Naval history would come to end... surely Grey could see that you couldn't put pilots who actually possessed a moral compass through situations like these? As much as he hoped she would 'see the light', he had a feeling that Viper's 'Gray' days were only just beginning.

Perhaps I should take up drinking... people in frakked-up situations drink, right? Or maybe smoking...

Ibram was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear Lt. Grey and a Bothan walk in the door, meaning he didn't get a chance to throw them both out.

"Thinking, are we?" Said a well-spoken sultry voice from behind him. At this point however, Ibram was really too tired to care about much, and so he merely sighed and continued staring at the map. His concentration, however, was on his visitors.

"Can I do something for you Lieutenant?"

"So formal Ibram! I thought we could at least be on first-name basis by now."

"I don't want to know your first name, so again, what to you need?"

Even though Ibram couldn't see it, Lieutenant Grey was displaying one of her trademark grins, he could hear it in her voice, however.

"I have a new pilot for you. What with your losses recently and the fact that your squadron doesn't seem to be taking to their new role quite well, I thought you could use some reinforcements."

Ibram turned to stare at Grey's companion, who he had assumed was the other Lt. Grey until just now. Standing beside her was what Ibram thought was a young Bothan male, although he couldn't really tell. He was shorter than Ibram with creamy brown skin and fur, red eyes, and a deep scar along his nose.

"One of your lackeys?" he asked without even greeting the new pilot.

"No," Grey replied, "But he'd showed promise during his training and knows how to keep a secret. He's been fully briefed on what's going on and I'm sure he will prove a valuable addition to your team."

Ibram stared at the Bothan for a minute, before asking, "What is your name, Crewman?"

"Leading Crewman San'Jiro, reporting for duty sir!" The bothan replied, pulling off a crisp salute in the process.

"And what are your thoughts on what our current assignment is Crewman?" Ibram asked without letting the man stand at ease.

"Sir! Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures."

Ibram paused for a moment, before asking, "and the... moral implications?"

San'jiro seemed to hesitate before replying.

"It's hard to take the moral high ground when we're all standing in the mud... sir."

Ibram snorted, a small grin playing over his face as he mulled over what the new pilot had just said.

"Heh... well said Crewman. You may stand at ease." He turned his attention back to Lt. Grey, who had been observing the exchange with her trade mark levity.

"I'll take him," he said. "Anything else?"

"Nothing that can't until your next briefing, which will be in two hours," Lt. Grey replied as she made her way towards the door.

"Oh, and Ibram?" she said whilst standing in the doorway, "I suggest you be there when your squadron watches the news today."

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

Ibram and Sanjiro silently wondered into the squadron's rec room. To say the atmosphere was 'subdued' would have been an understatement. People like Cali, and Stormrider, where just off in a corner and off in their own thoughts. Anden and Phineas were getting reacquainted with each other, but even they couldn't help be affected by the poisonous atmosphere that seemed to permeate the place.

Cali, who was reading through some reports, noticed Ibram's entrance.

"Officer on Deck!" she shouted and stood to attention. Everyone else quickly followed suit.

"At ease," Ibram said with a wave of his hand. "I just wanted to come in and say good job on another successful mission. Louli's death and Zala's condition are going to be tough on all of us, but losing people is part of the job. So is gaining new faces."

He turned slightly and motioned San'jiro forward.

"This is Leading Crewman San'Jiro, fresh from the academy. Make him feel welcome and bring him up to speed."

"I don't know when our next mission is, but I've got another briefing in a couple of hours, so i'll let you know. In the mean time, get some rest. Hopefully-"

Ibram was interrupted by the wall mounted screen coming to life. The screen showed the opening sequence to the hourly VE News bulletin. He was about to ask who had turned it on before he realised what he was seeing. It took all of his self control to stop his jaw from dropping.

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

"This broadcast is brought to you by the VE News Service, giving you up to date news no matter where you are."

[Logo is replaced by the image of human female sitting at a desk. To the left of her is another screen that shows images to highlight the news.]

"Hello, I'm Tanya Whiteheart. Our top story today: Crisis In the East."

[An image of an explosion with the words "Crisis in the East" appears.]

"Top Vast Empire officials have confirmed today that the Eastern territories have suffered a series of attacks by ruthless pirate factions looking to take advantage of the fragile nature of the area. A supply convoy heading towards Epsilon Beta was destroyed two days ago, leaving the colonists there stranded and desperate for supplies.

Also within the last few hours, another supply convoy heading for a Mining outpost in the Bannth system was also destroyed, leaving no survivors, and the colony itself damaged.

Here's a testimony from a newly widowed resident of that colony:"

[The screen then cuts to the footage of bedraggled and weary women speaking to an unseen interviewer. The debris from the recent battle, along with body bags, can be seen behind her.]

"*Sniffs* my husband he... he went outside with a bunch of the other diggers to man the defensive shelters. I remember seeing one of the Pirate fighters, it looked like a TIE, crash near it. Apparently one poor woman was caught in the blast and burnt alive! *sobs for a few seconds*

Anyway *sniff* my husband and his mates went out to see if they could capture, you know, see if they could get any information out of him, but this was a demon! He killed them all, my husband, Jim... *sobs*... all dead... *breaks down into tears*..."


[Cuts back to presenter.]

"Navy Intelligence has confirmed that the Pirates utilise stolen TIE fighters, as well as an assortment of other vessels. They especially like using ships that are recognisable to the people they tend to attack, in order to lure them in to a false sense of security.

When asked what the military plans to do about the situation, this spokeswomen had only this to say:"

[Screen then fades to an image of Lieutenant Grey standing on a podium at a press conference.]

"Whilst I'm not at liberty to discuss military operations, rest assured we will get these bastards and get them good. For too long now the good people of the Eastern Territories have had to suffer at the hands of outside forces looking to score points. This stops. Now. Not another soul in that sector will be harmed as long as I and the rest of my division live and breathe."

[Cuts back to presenter.]

"We'll bring you more on this story as it develops. In other news..."

[The screen goes dark.]


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

Ibram looked around the room as he stepped away from the screen controls. He could already see the affect that news bulletin was having on them, so he had felt it best to shut the program off before it was too late.

He stood solemnly in front of his pilots, as they slowly shifted their wide-eyed gaze from the screen to him. Cali and Cadie, sensing the tension, came to stand by his side.

Stormrider was the first to speak. "Sir... are those reports... accurate?"

Ibram, face impassive, knew he had to tread carefully. "'Accurate', Crewman?"

Stormrider swallowed, trying to compose himself while he processed the implications.

"What I mean to say is... sir... were there pirate attacks?"

Ibram closed his eyes and sighed. The moment of truth.

"Officially... no. Whilst there have been pirates operating in this sector, Epsilon Beta and the mining colony near Bannth have not been hit recently."

There was a sharp intake of breath from most people in the room. Even Cadie, who had had suspicions all this time, found it hard to hear the cold truth.

Stormrider spoke up again, "So... those attacks that were mentioned... they were fake?" His voice couldn't help betray the tiniest bit of hope that they were not, in fact, monsters.

"No."

Ibram looked around the room again, checking faces. Dagger looked stricken, Cadie was trying to remain composed even with the tear running down her eyes, Cali and Skorge were strangely composed, seemingly accepting the situation. Phineas looked like he'd just stared death in the face.

I suppose he has, Ibram realised. The testimony given by the women on the screen matched Phineas' account of his ground engagements with what he thought were pirates. He decided the time to play word games was over, time for the truth.

"I know all of you have had a bad feeling about our last couple of missions. Ever since we got here in fact there's been this over hanging cloud of... deceit, of evil purpose. I'm afraid to say your instincts were correct. Almost immediately after the execution of Crewman Borshan I was approached by Lieutenant Grey and issued a Special Disposition Order. From that moment on, we were seconded to Naval Intelligence."

Ibram could tell his words weren't really having any effect, but he had to press on.

"What I told you in our first briefing is true - morale has been low in the area since the Epsilon Incident and the war with the Dominion. What I didn't tell you is that the more seditious elements in the area have become bolder, and open revolt was a real possibility once more."

"Our... mission, was to engineer a situation where the locals needed us far more then they needed to hate us, and so the 'pirate' threat was created. As far as I can gather, several other operations have also been carried out similar to our own, all to give the... impression, that there is a serious pirate threat out there."

That seemed to shake Phineas out of wherever it is he was. His face suddenly turned ugly and he rounded on Ibram, finger pointed.

"Ok, so we've done the dirty work, we've killed... we've killed some civvies. Now what? Huh? Now frakking what!?" He was getting so agitated that Anden had to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Now," said that sultry voice that Ibram knew only too well. "You get your revenge."

The whole squadron turned to see Lt. Grey and two stormtroopers standing in the doorway to the rec room. She had a slight smile on her face, as usual, but her eyes spoke of seriousness. Dead seriousness.

"I was going to wait to brief Ensign Tyrol about this in a few hours," she said as she slowly walked into the room. "However it seems that a more unilateral approach is required here."

The squadron was silent, no one knowing quite what to say. Ibram cleared his throat to get Grey's attention.

"You have something to add, sir?"

Grey's smile widened for a second at Ibram's formal tone. "Yes Ensign, yes I do. Our listening post at Yetton detected a medium sized flotilla of ships penetrating the inner systems.  Their IFF beacons have been scrambled, but imaging has identified some of the ships, leading us to indicate the flotilla belongs to one of the coreward crime syndicates."

Ibram frowned at this, "How did they get past Ios? Even in its weakened state it should have been able to detect and fend off these intruders?"

"Well that's easy Ensign," replied Grey.  "They got through because Ios was instructed to let them through."

Cadie tsked and shook her head, "I knew it, more games."

"Don't worry Petty Officer, everything is under control. We know exactly who they are and where they're headed."

Ibram suddenly got a strange feeling in his gut that told him something wasn't right. He didn't know what it was, but something about the way Grey stood, the way she was smiling... (that damned smile!)... told him there was more to this than the spook was telling them.

"And where might that be?" He asked.

Grey looked him straight in the eyes, "Here."

Then, as if right on cue, the Incoming Attack alarms blared.

OOC:
Act III has officially begun. All posts now should take place either just before, or during the meeting. I'll post up the second part of this in a couple of days, which will have us all in the air. In the mean time, feel free to scramble to your fighters.
"Determining the appropiate level of influence in somebody elses war is never a simple matter."
  - Special Circumstances

1st Lieutenant Ibram Tyrol
Imperial Network Star Wars Image

VEN
SC/1LT Ibram Tyrol/Viper 1/mSSD Atrus/1W/1FL/VEN/{=*A*=}{=*SA*=}{=*ME*=}{=*MAE*=}{=*FOCE*=}/[NER]
Romanflame
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Romanflame
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 16, 2009 7:37:05 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
Arthur was sitting in the back of the room alone and when some one tried to sit next to him he snarled at them to get them to leave and it worked.  Some of the squad was talking amongst themselves trying to figure out what was up with Arthur because they felt a dark cloud over him.  There were people talking about what just happened and what they were doing before they returned.  Some were mourning the lost and injury of fellow squad mates.  Arthur was felling down and was glad at not getting to know them too well because getting too close was a bad thing and he might never come to face the fact that people die in this job.  So he figured if he didn't get to know them it would be easier to do the job.  He went to drown his sorrow with the strongest spice tea he had ever made.  He also got the rest of the squad to drink a weaker one than his normal because most could not handle it other wise.  He remembered the last group to take it passed out after the second glass.  After they all finished the tea he got those who wanted something stronger the drink of their choice.  After they all had their drinks and went bad to what they were doing. 

Cali shouted "Officer on Deck!"

"At ease," Ibram said and kept speaking but was soon interrupted by the wall mounted screen coming to life.

After he explained what was going on and Gray added to it the Incoming Attack alarms blared.  The two let the squad go to their stations to fight off the incoming attacks.  We all ran to the hanger where our Ties were waiting.  Arthur got in his strapped in and was thinking he might as well stay here and let them court martial him if they survived but a small voice in his head told him that he need to go out in a bang and not rotting in prison or executed for all to see.  The same voice told him not to hold back because if he went out too soon he puts others at risk.  The other more quieter voice told him he killed two freighters full of civvies which was more than the others and it was all on him all of those death will kill him slowly through the years if he lived though the battle.  That other voice told him he was only following orders, while the quiet one was telling him he stilled pulled the trigger and someone who was only following orders is still to blame if not more for not questioning them.  He was sitting in his fighter for a while all of the other had started them up and were leaving him before he started his.  He was thinking only the better pilot will come out alive and hoping there was one out there that for this fight so he could get the kind of death he chose.  The deck officer came in his private channel asking him why he wasn't leaving yet Arthur told him quickly he was having some technical difficulty and he just fixed it and was heading out.  The officer came back over his head set and told Arthur good luck out there.
FM/LCRW Arthur/Viper 6/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE
Sicario
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Sicario
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 17, 2009 3:36:47 AM    View the profile of Sicario 
Phineus was picked up from the ground and flown back to the Viper’s current headquarters at the Badajoz Space Station. From the docking bay he gave his thanks to the pilot; slowly made his way from Viper to Viper, trying to get a read on how everyone was doing mentally. As well as to see if he couldn’t get a clue on just how many pilots were lost. Phineus himself, overall, was feeling pretty oka kala. He always took the loss of fellow pilots very difficultly; but the good news was that the Viper’s were successful, much to the help of Phineus himself. And he was able to shower, which helped make him feel much more optimistic.

It’s not like I enjoy killing people, he thought as he walked from the docking bay towards his personal quarters; I don’t. But these cowards were going to attack, even murder the lives of innocent miners. I prevented that. I’m a hero. Here’s your promotion, here’s your medal. Pat on the back. Phineus helps win the battle yet again. I get looked up to, maybe even get assigned to lead a flight; poster boy for the Imperial Navy.

He rounded the corner- dressed in his worn, black pilot jumper- towards the briefing room. The air around the station was still, almost annoyingly so, keeping the noise level to a minimum. For a moment, Phineus stopped walking, and turned to look behind him. He saw the long, straight, narrow hallway down through the space station’s corridors. Dimly lit a blue and yellow, stretching down as far as the eye could see. No one was there, nor were there any droids, or any cameras, or any viewports. There was quite in fact, nothing. He shot his eyes downward, stared at his shoes for a moment; he swallowed, turned straight around, and continued walking.

That wonderfully creepy feeling as though you were being followed by someone you couldn’t hear or see; but could only feel. You know how frakking scary it is to feel? Have you ever been in love?

-The Next day-

Phineus smirked at himself; while walking around the station he had gradually shifted into a pace it seemed, then finally into a march. When his arms were once at his waist, swinging freely, they were now behind his back, hand clenching wrist.

Maybe I feel I should look the part; professional, Chief Petty Officer, who earned his rank with each and every mission. I need to fix my reputation here as an abandoner, or someone who just always seems to get out before things get real bad; then the bastard comes back to help out, before leaving again. No, I need to show these guys that I’m different now. I can act the role.

Phineus felt an embracing squeeze on his right shoulder, then turned to his left to see Anden, dressed impressively in his white ensemble.

“Heard you had a rough time down there,” Anden said carefully, but enthusiastically.

Phin smiled, if for a moment, before he turned his head forward again, and pressed on side by side with his old wingman, “You could say that.”

Anden withdrew his arm from around Phin’s shoulder, and lowered his head a bit, “It’s never fun to be in that situation.”

“I know,” Phineus abruptly interjected.

“We’ve both been there,” Anden continued, mindlessly.

“I know.”

“Whether on an Imperial ground assault mission or on our own extremely dangerous and sometimes frivolous adventures,” Anden insisted. “It’s not a good situation, you have to react instead of think. But luckily, you did well. You took out a handful of the ground pirates, which majorly helped out our ground forces and even gave us pilots a bigger window.”

Phineus couldn’t blame Anden.

He’s trying to make me feel better. He knows me so well, that all he can expect from me is to turn into an emotional wreck for a few hard hours, before going off on some crazy, suicidal mission, get a new hair cut, and retire from the navy. Again. But that’s not me anymore. I can control that better now.

Anden stopped in front of Phineus, and saluted, “You did good, kid.”

Phineus saluted back, if almost reluctantly.

“I’m proud of you,” Anden finished. “Hey look, I gotta go take a course in the refresher; but how about after the briefing, you and I get something to eat? Get a bit more caught up on what’s been up these past months away, yeah?”

Phineus kept calm, and professional; but inside, he was quite enthused by this idea. Phineus had left the Navy again. So did Anden. Once again they had gone their separate ways. Once again because of some daring escapade dealing with some form of family. With Anden and Phineus, there was unlimited potential, but without the time to fully blossom. Personal matters drew them to and from the Navy ever since their storied careers began, some time ago.

And even that, the knowledge that it in fact has been quite some time since I joined. That time does a lot to a person.

No matter what the case was, they were always separated, and never did quite grow into the element they were once thought to become. Phineus wondered if they ever would. Anden was back, for now, but had plans to leave in some time. Where would that leave Phineus? Someone who thoroughly relies on a brother figure to survive. Phin remembered back to the first time he was in the Navy without Anden, without any contact to him. It was scary, like not having your wingman with you in the heat of battle. Quite literally. The thought brought a tear down Phin’s left cheek, he had hoped it wasn’t too apparent.

“Yeah,” Phineus, through his beard, smiled that smile he was well known for. “That sounds pretty damn good actually.”

Because who knows? How many more times will we get to sit down at the mess hall, have a bite to eat and joke around, maybe get in a fight with a few stormies, just like old times. I long for those old times. I am so frakking afraid of never having that good of a time here again. It eats at me. Damn it, Anden, we were dead before the ship even sank.

Anden nodded, perhaps somewhere in his locked, emotionless face, was a sense of worry that he did not want his old friend to catch hold of. And, perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that his old friend, in fact, did catch hold of. Anden turned, walked away towards the refreshers, and left Phineus standing in the middle of the corridor.

I think it’s a pretty good time to take a smoke break.

-An hour later-

Phineus couldn’t help keep the smile off his face- a result of his recent smoking session- as he waltzed down towards the briefing room, where all the Vipers had recently been called to over the intercom. He walked into the room, a bit cramped- a true signature of the Navy, squadron uncomfort- but kept nicely air conditioned. Possibly a bit too conditioned, as some of the pilots kept their hands in their pockets for warmth. Phineus weaved in and out of a few fellow squadron members, still smiling like a fool, in the poorly lit space. He came up to Anden, threw his arm around him and embraced him, and turned towards the viewing monitor which had just turned on. Anden smirked at the first sight of Phin; but then quickly shifted into a face of concern.

“Your eyes are bloodshot, did you know that?” Anden asked.

Phineus chuckled, or more so ‘huffed’, “How would I know that?” Phineus stopped to think. He continued, “I took a shower.”

“Odd,” Anden called his bluff, “because I was the one who took the shower. And I didn’t see you in the refresher line. And didn’t you take one as soon as we arrived?”

Phineus turned to Anden, “Look, I am ecstatic for this final part of the mission. We saved the day again, Andy, we stopped the bad guys like a couple of holo-fic heroes.”

Anden dead panned, “And how exactly does that make your eyes bloodshot?”

Phineus stood silent, and was saved by the dimming of the even already dull lighting, and the news broadcast began on the view screen, large enough for the entire room to have good spots.

-Soon after the broadcast-


The witness described her account of the day’s events. She spoke of a woman being burnt alive, a demon, a slaughter. The witness described a hellish scene of cruel, unbridled murder carried out only by someone who could enter into a complete state of withdrawal, and become such an evil, such a sick twisted individual. The witness rightfully described the exact doing of the acclaimed Imperial Pilot, Chief Petty Officer Phineus ‘Sicario’ Gage; whom stood in shame. His jaw was nearly on the floor, his eyes lost somewhere in the middle of the view screen; almost in the same form of withdrawal as he was when he savagely murdered those miners. Those innocent miners. Not pirates.

No thoughts. Just images. Images of what he had done, first person view. Images of blurs, of screams, of blood, of sand, of sun, of fear. He had no thoughts, just images.

Ibram’s voice cut through the air,  "Our... mission, was to engineer a situation where the locals needed us far more then they needed to hate us, and so the 'pirate' threat was created. As far as I can gather, several other operations have also been carried out similar to our own, all to give the... impression, that there is a serious pirate threat out there."

The words made sense through the images, somehow, Phin wasn’t sure how. But he heard them, he knew what they meant. And he snapped.

"Ok, so we've done the dirty work, we've killed... we've killed some civilians. Now what? Huh? Now frakking what!?" He was getting so agitated that Anden had to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Ibram said something, and another voice, a female voice, entered the current orchestra. But Phineus didn’t hear anything else. He hit Anden’s hand off, turned, and stormed out of the briefing room. Once he was out of clear sight of the other pilots, he broke out into a full on sprint, racing towards his room. His thoughts, perhaps, racing even faster.

They were pirates. I saw them. I saw it in their eyes. I saw my guys fire on them before I was shot down. They were enemies. They had to be enemies. I slit one’s throat. On the Empire’s name, I beat them to death. I shot a woman. I killed the lives of the very people I was sent in to protect. Or was I? It’s all so confusing. I murdered. I stole away the lives of innocent people.

He stumbled up to his quarters, keyed in the entry code, stepped inside and locked the mechanism behind him. He collapsed onto the floor in a cold sweat, quickly soaking his jumper. He lunged across the room, reached beneath his bed, and pulled out his pack. In it, he reached around for a few moments, before pulling out one of his personal ciggerra’s. He lit it. He inhaled. Several times over.

This isn’t enough, frak, why isn’t this enough? The images won’t go away.

Phineus panicked, he shuffled around more in his pack, ciggera in his mouth, the smell of herb quickly spreading through the room. He pulled out a bottle of Giagorex, a muscle relaxer.  One after another.

-Meanwhile-

“Hey, uh, what was it? Sage hero?” Anden stumbled around his words.

The newest recruit of the Viper squadron stood, not too amused, and stroked his beard, “Sanjiro.”

“Yeah, right, have you seen Chief Petty Officer Gage?” Anden poorly attempted at catching his breath.

“I have not,” Sanjiro replied.

Anden gave the Bothan an off-putting look, gave a nod of half-hearted thanks, and continued his search. Sanjiro lowered his head down toward his data pad, and began clicking away.

Anden passed by Ibram, who currently appeared quite annoyed, “Beliam! Where’s Gage? We’re taking off in two minutes!”

“I, I know, sir,” Anden responded, “I’m looking for him now. I’m sure he’s just getting ready.”

“If he isn’t in his Interceptor by launch, he’s not flying,” Ibram sort of apathetically announced, “he better not be pulling something and leaving again.”

Anden nodded quickly, trying to get Ibram quiet and out of the way, “I’m getting him now.” He exerted under his breath as he moved past Ibram.

Anden ran from one corridor to another, eventually working his way to Phin’s quarters. He inputted a code, then another, and then another, failing each time at trying to figure out Phin’s passcode. He looked to his left, then to his right, saw that he was surely alone and then withdrew his blaster, blew a hole in the lock, and the door lifted right up. He took a few cautious steps and noticed Phineus sprawled out up against the back corner of his bed, conscience and alert, but barely.

“What the hell, man?” Anden exclaimed, crouching down next to his comrade.

“I killed them,” Phineus spoke a whisper, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Phin, we all killed them,” Anden sympathized. “But we were unaware of what exactly was happening, to be honest, I still am. Now is our time to get back at the bastards.”

Phineus shook his head, “No, there’s no revenge for the slaying of innocent lives. There’s nothing I can do to make up for that.”

Anden took to a more serious tone, something he had never done with Phineus. It shocked them both a bit; “There is a way. Do not let their deaths be in vain. Defend the space station and fight for the right cause.”

Phineus chuckled, and mumbled on, “I deserve to die.”

“Look, you stubborn quack,” Anden fired back, “you can whine and cry about the handful of innocent people you killed; but that will just lead to even more innocent people on this space station to die as well. You have your chance, now.”

“I wanted to be a hero,” Phineus whispered.

He was broken down, completely destroyed. This was the worst shape Anden had ever seen him in; he didn’t enjoy it one bit. Phineus resembled a zombie more so than a skilled pilot. He looked that a drunk, hanging around behind the cafes, waiting to pick off the scraps.

“And now, you can be,” Anden said reassuringly. He opened a comm channel, “We’re gonna need an emergency med-droid to report to room four-dash-two-zero.”

Phineus waited. He didn’t know for what. His eyesight began to grow ever more blurry, and now lights began to glow much brighter than what Phineus had remembered. There was a bright light, the outline of a medical droid, and a harsh sting in his left arm. Phineus felt light headed, as if his brain simply was gone. He rapidly came down from his pill induced, deadly overdose. The needle was filled with the right sort of medicine for the job; one that immediately restored the brain and cardiovascular activity back to their normal rates, and began destroying any toxins in the body. Phineus, the physical side of him, was back to health.

Anden smiled as Phineus stood, “There we are,” Anden said. “C’mon, we need to get to the hangar bay before they take off.”

Phineus stared blankly, and apathetically replied, “No.”

Anden was completely caught off guard, and almost had a slight laugh out of confusion, “What? Phin, let’s go.”

Phineus remained steadfast, “I will not.”

Anden tried again, “Phineus, we have to.”

“I do not!” Phineus exclaimed, standing to his feet. “I will not allow myself to be subjected to any more of Lt. Grey’s set-ups,” Phineus spat out the words as though they had left quite the bad taste on his tongue. “I’m leaving before more innocent people die.”

“Phin, no,” Anden pleaded as Phineus shoved passed.

There was no stopping him, he marched away from Anden, in the opposite direction of the squadron’s hangar bay, and soon out of sight after a turn. Anden hung his head, sighed, and walked towards the hangar bay. Phineus was off, and he wasn’t showing signs of coming back. Even as Anden walked away too, he couldn’t help but hope that something, or someone, could pull Phineus back into the right mindset. Because without him, defending the space station would be an extremely challenging task.

_________________________________________________________

Words; 2,774
“Phin…you are one odd quack."

Viper Squadron Stay active, and we won't kill you
[This message has been edited by Sicario (edited November 18, 2009 4:13:59 PM)]
Ibram Tyrol
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Ibram Tyrol
 
[VE-NAVY] 1st Lieutenant
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 20, 2009 2:41:11 PM    View the profile of Ibram Tyrol 
"If the enemy are here now, what was all that bull about us meeting in a couple of hours!?"

It had been 5 minutes since the alarm had sounded and Ibram and Lt. Grey were in a command and control room just below the hangar whilst everyone rushed to their action stations.

"There may have been a slight... miscalculation." Grey said through pursed lips. It was the first time Ibram had seen her do anything but smile, and for some reason that was heartening.

"Some miscalculation. They've bypassed Ios, Yetton even the sector patrols..." He turned to a nearby operations officer. "Petty Officer, what's the situation?"

"Two Strike-class Cruisers and one old Escort Carrier jumped into the gravity well about 5 minutes ago, near the second moon."

"That's on the far side of the planet from us," Lt. Grey said with increased irritation. "Why aren't they attacking the station!?"

"They're Pirates Lieutenant, not idiots," Ibram retorted whilst checking the latest reports. "Sure, knocking us out would make piracy in this system easier, hell it could shift the balance of power in the whole sector, but imagine the risk they would have to take. This approach still sees them gain by preying on shipping with immunity because our defences our elsewhere." He shot the Lieutenant a dirty look as he said that, although he knew that speaking too much about it in the open wouldn't do anyone any good.

Lieutenant Grey narrowed her eyes, stood up straight and adjusted her uniform.

"Just get out there and do your job Ensign, we will defeat this threat, just like we do all threats to the empire." She spun on her heel and left the operations room just as the station commander, Commodore Bryant, strolled in.

"Report!" he barked, wasting no times on pleasantries.

"Two Strike-class cruisers and an old model Escort Carrier have just jumped in sir. The carrier launched over half a dozen fighter squadrons and small gunboats, and they've been tearing up the shipping lanes. Some have even gone down to Typhus itself."

"Frak! Where the hell is the fleet?" The Commodore barked as he went over to the tactical display. Ibram waited with the other squadron commanders as the Commodore assessed the situation. He wore his uniform loose and was smoking a cigar, of all things.

Not really doing much for the stereotype is he? Ibram mused.

"Unknown sir," The operations liaison replied, "they left about an hour ago on another routine patrol."

"Sir! The Anaconda, has just engaged the two strike cruisers. Taking heavy damage!"

"Damn it, how many times have I told Jones to cut out the heroics," Bryant took a puff of his cigar, and turned to face the waiting officers.

"Right ladies and gentlemen, seems we have a situation."

That's putting it mildly, Ibram thought.

"Until we find the fleet and get them back here, you're all we got. The Anaconda isn't going to last long against those strikes and we can't scramble in time to save her, so we'll have to write Captain Jones off for now. The Hyperion and the Estonia are our last remaining ships in system: they will join you. You are to start clearing local space of pirate fighters and gunboats, try and get the civilians to safety. No one is go near their main ships until help arrives, am I clear?"

There was a chorus of 'Yes sir's.

"Right, get to your people, and good luck."

The squadron leaders quick timed it out of the control room and made their way towards their respective hangers. As Ibram was jogging down the corridor to the turbolift, he opened a com channel to Cadie.

"Cadie? I'm on my way, we launch in ten minutes."

"Aye sir," Cadie's voice came back. "Anden and Phineas still aren't here though."

Ibram frowned. Just what is with those two?

"If I see them on the way, I'll bring them along. Otherwise we launch without them. Ibram out."

By this point he was in the turbo lift with several of the other squadron commanders. Sincehe'd only been there a few days, he hadn't really gotten to know anyone, so few words were exchanged. Coming out of the turbolift, he sped off towards Viper's hanger, bumping into Anden and San'jiro along the way.

“Beliam! Where’s Gage? We’re taking off in two minutes!”

“I, I know, sir,” Anden responded, “I’m looking for him now. I’m sure he’s just getting ready.”

“If he isn’t in his Interceptor by launch, he’s not flying,” Ibram responded, “he better not be pulling something and leaving again.”

Anden nodded quickly and started running back towards Viper's quarters, “I’m getting him now.”

Ibram turned to look at San'jiro, who was glancing about the place slightly wide-eyed.

"Crewman! You should be in your fighter already. Get going and begin launch prep. We leave in 5."

The bothan's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Five? But you just said-"

"I know what I said Crewman!" Ibram barked. "Report to your station!"

Ibram watched San'jiro break into a run towards the hanger deck before making one last call.

"Tyrol to Lt. Grey - so what happens now?"

"Same thing as what was going to happen before. We can adapt to this situation, but it will take time to recall the fleets. Just go and do what you do best, Ensign."

Ibram sighed, "Yes ma'am."

He was just about to head to the hangar bay himself when he caught site of Phineas... heading towards the wrong hanger. It took him a minute more before he realised what Phin was about to do.

Oh no you don't, he thought as he ran after the pilot. Not again.

He almost knocked Anden over as he sped down the corridor, but before the pilot could say anything Ibram ordered him to his fighter.  He eventually caught up with Phineas and grabbed his shoulder.

"Where the hell do you think you're going Petty Officer?"

Phin tried to shrug him off, "Leave me alone Ibram, I didn't come back to be a part of some twisted mind games. I'm leaving before that bitch manipulates us into hurting someone else."

Ibram used some mild force to push Phin back against the corridor wall, before looking at him straight in the eyes.

"Petty Officer Gage, Unless you haven't noticed the planet is under attack. This isn't a game, this isn't some subtle mind-frak... This is a fact. As a pilot in the corps it is your sworn duty to protect this place and its inhabitants."

Phin was still looking defiant, still enraged, and was still trying to get past Ibram to his personal ship. "Let me-"

Which is when Ibram's fist smacked into his jaw, sending him flying back into the wall and then onto the floor.

"You will address me as SIR when you speak Mr. Gage! God damn it man, we don't have time for personal dilemmas! Do you think you're the only one who finds what we've been doing abhorrent? Get your absent ass back in to the hangar and into your ship, or by the emperor I WILL have you shot you dead right here... And beleive me, after what we've done over the past few days this will frakking pale in comparison."

Phin stared at Ibram wide-eyed for a moment, having never seen Ibram quite so angry or fired up before. Then again, Ibram hadn't slept for two days and hadn't been forced to commit murder and subversion before either.

"That's an order!" Ibram barked.

Phin nodded and stood up slowly, before pulling off a salute and running back to the Viper hanger.

Watching him go, Ibram took a minute to rest against the side, suddenly weary of the world. People, both pilots and others, were still running up and down the corridor in order to get to their stations. Even in and amongst all this chaos however, the weary squadron leader almost felt at peace.

One that was short lived however.

"Attention all squadrons, this is the Commodore. Hurry up and get your fighters space side, the pirates have sent some heavy bombers to try and intercept you before you launch. Move it!"

Here we go again...

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

By the time Ibram got into the hangar, everyone was in place and ready to go. Breaking several safety regulations as he went, Ibram leapt over a stack of crates, ran across the boarding ramp situated high across the hanger, and then slid down the ladder that lead to his fighter. Viper Squadron had been docked in the more traditional fashion using the ceiling docking clamps this time, which was just typical.

"Took your time," Cadie said over the coms as Ibram brought his fighter to life.

"I had to use the little boys room," Ibram replied, whilst also opening a channel to Cali.

"Ok guys, we have a squadron of heavy bombers being escorted by a squadron of fighters heading this way. They're most likely going to try and bomb the launch tubers and hangers before our fighter's scramble. We already have a squadron of Bombers and some TIE Fighters in the air already, but those need to stick together and probably won't be able to intercept in time."

"What's your plan sir?" asked Cali, ever the pragmatic soul.

"We're going to push the engines to do a lightening pass, taking out as many bombers as we can, we'll then bring ourselves about and do another one, before moving on to the fighters."

"Pretty risky sir, attacking at such high speeds."

"Too much blood is already on our hands Cadie, it's time we started making up for it. Tell the Vipers to launch. I'll be out once I've commenced pre flight."

Ibram started to concentrate on brining his fighter up to speed as fast as regulations would allow as the rest of the squadron launched around him. Hopefully his allusion to redemption might spur the squadron, or at least take their minds off the atrocities of the past few days.

Reality, after all, would be too much for them at this point: A reality which Ibram summed up into a phrase one of his father's more shadier friends said once:

Some blood never washes off.

OOC:
Report to the main topic for a more in-depth OOC briefing. Any questions, just PM me.
"Determining the appropiate level of influence in somebody elses war is never a simple matter."
  - Special Circumstances

1st Lieutenant Ibram Tyrol
Imperial Network Star Wars Image

VEN
SC/1LT Ibram Tyrol/Viper 1/mSSD Atrus/1W/1FL/VEN/{=*A*=}{=*SA*=}{=*ME*=}{=*MAE*=}{=*FOCE*=}/[NER]
bjorkfrid
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bjorkfrid
 
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 21, 2009 9:20:11 AM    View the profile of bjorkfrid 
The klaxon to the clear the hangar rang. The sound of the Imperial hangar was a change from the eerily silent cave that had passed for Viper's hangar back on the Badejoz space station. If they failed to defend that floating mass of junk and sin there would be nothing to return to. Even the backwaters of this world needed saviours and by the twisted machinations of the Vast Empire war machine Badejoz's saviours had been it's bane as well.

For once, properly since it's inaugural day of operation, the traders of Badejoz had settled up and closed shop early. Even the presence of a mock-Imperial squadron on “leave” had not caused these eternal spinners of credits to bat an eye-lid or change their habits. Now their very lives had been placed at stake by a bunch of pirates; poachers on the make looking for a quick kill. The space station was the perfect prize for such lowly predators, a launching pad to suck the live out of Typhus like a persistent parasite. Similar comparisons could be drawn with the actions of Viper over the recent weeks. Slopping through the system like a slow-burning virus, their actions had blotched the dark skinned fabric of Epsilon's space. Bloodsucking was too weak a word, the holo-net broadcasts had made these unnamed attackers out to be berserkers of rage, bathing in floods of the innocent’s tears and blood.

The mining colony, as untouched as a relic that it had been, was now being eaten away. Amid the current crisis caused by the inconvenience of the pirate raid and out sight the Vast Empire had dispatched a ground force to take over the mining facility in the covert name of a dead Emperor who himself had never much time for something mundane and childish as tractor beam technology.
The ambitious desires of the Vast Empire had extended a crooked hand towards higher aspirations at an expense of life and cruelty; the expense paid to be an Empire.

The pirates they acted as mere opportunists who preyed on the weak and vulnerable. Dashing in for quick fix of credits and resources that could be shift quickly on the black market. Cali'reharn, unfortunately, knew too much then she cared for when it came to the ease and slickness of the well-oiled black market. Such a reckless system that strove for that efficiency had cost her dearly and now the Navy, albeit through extremely murky had an engineered an opportunity for revenge. It would now be her turn to relish the occasion when opportunity came knocking.

The console and cockpit of the Interceptor was a snug, tight contrast to the xg-1 she had written off in Viper's previous massacre. The crash-webbing despite Cali being apprehensive about it's tendency to entangle her after flight runs was a comfort; a blanket or second skin that entwined her. Becoming an extension of her movements, nuances and emotions the TIE was symbiotic in its design. The pilot the beating heart of the dagger-teethed beast. The closeness of the environment was growing on Cali, soaking into her skin beneath the coarse material of her flight-suit. Despite the fraught emotional situation she and the rest of the squadron had gone through she felt distant from the repercussions, from those “ot-her's” pain. The mechanic interplay of her starfighter seduced her sense, dimmed her emotions, which had retreated further and further over the past events until it had become a dying flame of sense, logic or outward compassion. The executioner is fulfilling a profession like the clerk, the politician, the teacher. In their profession they leave their personal feelings as tighten the noose, each action is a reassuring part of their daily routine. The act a meticulous demonstration of their craft, some might say, a necessary service just as required as that of education, health and finance. It was social insurance, an important guarantor, an office that was a pillar, the first foundation of a Courscanti sky-scraper.

These where considerations, in parts of the wide spiralling galaxy, such notions where honoured, respected. In other realms played down, quelled but still acknowledge and called upon in hours of darkness. There could only be a certain amount of valour to go around for the idea of the pilot. Not every person who had served behind the Imperial yoke could expect the adulation of the 181st squadron. That prestigious flight renowned throughout the Imperium as the elite and pinnacle of the pilot's function was in itself more a symbol then representation of acts of valour. Cali had only ever understood the terms in relation to her community, respect to her elders, kinship and blood. The core-worlders and in particular the humans placed, to her mind, an unfathomable amount of stock on valour beyond the close-net cast of your fellows. She did feel part of the squadron, it helped that she had Li'ary. Though Jolinar had not had the most conventional of Twi'lek upbringings, their blood understood its shared heritage. They were not close in the sense of conventional comradeship to be found amongst pilots but on that hellish rescue and Cali had witness Jolinar's silent sorrow she saw within that frail figure the young girl she had once known. The girl of her own childhood full of a melancholy for events that had not happened, a sadness misunderstood by her elders as grumpiness. Perhaps that feelings was a foreshadowing of the events that Cali had been subjected to. Time unfurling the answer to the questions that had been full of sadness from her youth.

Behind the viewport of Interceptor Cali was part soulless passivity, part inquisitive child full of an unexplainable sadness. The hand that tightly wrestled against the shakes was of warring entity that had used up all her capacity to mourn for others in her youth. The residual remains, her self, certainly were not that befitting the title of pilot.

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

The space before Viper squadron was a tapestry of flashing colours, an unsynchronized performance of light and shapes. The enemy fighters, a mish-mash of various star-fighter scraps conducted a raw command of the field of battle. Their movements random to the point there was an element of tactical genius in their reckless sweeping vectors. A gaggle of what had once been Y-wings swung a wide arc of ion-fire over Viper's course. The combined act was a braggish slap in the face to the tightly packed order of Viper's formation. Upon Tyrol's orders the Interceptor seared through the cold vacuum at maximum capacity easily overtaking the Y-uglies, who had yet to complete their inelegant arc. Several hundreds of klicks beyond these abortions of technology what looked like Strike-class Cruiser was pummelling the fading Anaconda. Dancing with these pirate fighters would seriously impede any chance Viper had of providing assistance to the Carrack-class cruiser. Viper only had chances left to play.

“Five, split and cut off these bombers.” Ibram commanded through the com as his own fighter pirouetted upon a tight axis upward.

“Confirmed One,” Cadie sounded tight chested like the pull of her fighter was constricting her breathing. At such speed the fighter's computer often struggled to prevent the cockpit's levelling from calibrating the severe pressures both craft and pilot where under.

“Let’s go take these beasts for walk. Form on my wing.”

“Nine bring take your wing below mine, we can’t allow any of these miscreants to get through.”

Cali clicked a confirmation of receiving Ibram’s orders pushing her yoke forward she placed the Interceptor into a gradual dive. The rest of her wing followed her lead creating an inviting corridor between Cali’s and Ibram’s respective flights. Her sensors where picking up several blips to starboard approaching steadily to Viper’s ravine of punishment. The flight computer tagged them as a handful of Assault-gunboats. Their sluggishness would prove an easy match for the superior manoeuvrability of the squadron’s Interceptors. The approaching formation of gunboats seemed honed in on Viper’s position; the squadron was all that stood between the enemy’s salvos of missile and floating target that was the Badejoz space station.

“Hyperion to Viper flight, Hyperion to Viper flight respond over.” Cali’s com-unit buzzed, the signal was obviously being affected by the multiple wave frequency of such a massing of different ships.

“Viper flight here, we’re literally on the knives’ edge of engagement here.” Ibram’s voice leaked a bitter sarcasm. Cali imagined that out of all of them Ibram was struggling with the binding being placed upon him by the Intelligence corps.

“Then you’d better slice and dice Ensign.” Velvet like a planet enveloped in an eternal night-cycle, Grey’s voice met Ibram’s repartee. “Do take out those ghastly things, we don’t want the holo-recorders wasting footage on such inelegant designs.”

“Five is about to make short work of them and please save the soliloquy until we’re back at base. I’m no doubt you’ll be practising it in the mirror whilst we struggling to save away.” Ibram’s voice was fraught as he failed to hold back his contempt for the woman.

“I had no idea you where such the comedian, you simply must attend the next officer’s ball, I’ll put in a good word and see if they won’t make you master of ceremonies for the night. The admirals would be delighted by your razor wit.” To Cali’s disbelief the invitation sounded genuine, the klicks counted down on her scanner as the assault-boat’s finally hulked into her targeting range.

“Light up the sky, Viper. Would you two take this to a private channel? Five out.” Cadie’s voice cut into the surreal exchange, even in her typical way her voice lacked the assurance Cali had come to rely upon for direction.

Cali’s targeting system moaned a steady bleeped tone confirming a positive lock. In an instant response she passed her thumb over the trigger. The absurdity of Grey was beyond her, understanding was useless. Her mind became blank, not for the first time in the cockpit, Cali simply disengaged to engage to the enemy.
FL/SCPO Cali'reharn/Viper Squadron Viper 9 /Phoenix Wing/Personal: Alphaclass Xg-1 Star Wing/1Flt/VEN/VE/ (=*A*=) [MC:2]

We fly
you die
[This message has been edited by bjorkfrid (edited November 23, 2009 3:52:38 AM)]
Anden Beliam
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 22, 2009 10:04:05 PM    View the profile of Anden Beliam 
No

Phin's words resounded in Anden's mind as he ran quickly through the hangar to his Interceptor. He had barely felt Ibram practically barrel him over. Running through a quick yet thorough preflight check Anden knew that he would have to get his mind focused before launching, and all he could think about was the shadow that had dwelt on his friend's face, in his eyes. There was a defeat there that Anden had never seen before. Phin had never come out and gone against him. It had always been them- the deadly duo. Friends to the death. Of one thing Anden wasn't sure any longer if Phin would pull through this one.

Come on, Phin. You can make it through this. He thought to himself as if trying to project his thoughts out to first wingmate, as if doing just that act would be the nudge to create enough inertia to pull his friend in the right frame of mind.  He hoped Phin it would, even if it was a small hope.

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and cleared his mind. When the blue of his eyes showed again against the eye visors of his helmet they were as focused as a laser. It was the look that had urged his Father to say, “...I feel sorry for the pilot set in your sights”

Anden didn't feel sorry, and the realization of that used to startle him. The way he saw it was that if some ignorant fool got into the cockpit of a starfighter and didn't know that having your seat blasted out from under you was a possibility... they didn't belong in a starfighter in the first place.

You either flew to live and win- or you didn't fly long. That was the fact of it.

“What's your plan, Sir?” Cali's voice interjected his thoughts.

"We're going to push the engines to do a lightening pass, taking out as many bombers as we can, we'll then bring ourselves about and do another one, before moving on to the fighters."

“Pretty risky, sir, attacking at such high speeds.”

This whole ordeal has been risky. Anden couldn't help but think. Not just from their point of view, but from intelligence as well. It was risky sending pilots like those in Viper to do the dirty and ugly work that they had done. And chucking it up as work all done for the greater good. If they, specifically Lt. Grey, expected them all to blindly follow orders they were wrong in judging Anden. Once this was all said and done he was going to have some choice words for the grinning Grey.

He checked his flight systems and saw that his wingman's, Arthur, systems were still down. He keyed into Arthur's comm channel, “Arthur?...you there?”

After what they had seen about their last mission- he could only imagine the kind of things any one of the other Vipers could be thinking. He wished he had had more time to really talk with his new wingman and see how he was holding up.

“Yes...” Arthur replied back after a few moments, “Firing up my systems now.”

There was a far off tone to his voice as was expected. This, however, was not a time to be far off.

“I don't like what happened either mate, but it happened- and this is a way, small as it is, to make amends...and I'm all up for that.” he said, his voice was calm and assertive at the same time, “You with me?”

“Let's do this.”

“Couldn't have said  it any better myself.” He said grinning, then keyed into all of flight one's comm, “Viper Three and Four- ready to go, Ibram.”

“Good to hear Beliam.” Ibram replied, and said something under his breath about at least one of them is.

Flight One of Viper squadron shot out from the Badejoz Space Station and formed up immediately on Ibram's TIE. Sanjiro on his left and Arthur and Anden on his right in arrow formation. Anden cycled through the ships that came up on his long range scanner- locking the bombers into keystrokes so he could bring them at at his own will.

“Adjust all power to your engines, with your weapons at minimum. We are going to be coming in at them fast so use what fire power you have accurately.”

“They won't know what hit them.” Arthur said, his voice already more focused than it had been moments before.

The klicks disappeared as the four of them raced towards the bombers heading towards the base. Anden knew they would already be locking onto the base and getting ready to fire torpedoes. Blasted bombers. Ibram had them set on a direct collision course with the bombers, right in the way the bombers torpedoes would be coming. Upon Ibram orders, Anden locked onto the second ship in the group. When he got the signal that they had fired he let out a few bursts, as did the other three. Their volley of cannon fire collided with the torpedoes which brightened the black of space in a burst of red and yellow and blue-green before being swallowed up in the cold vacuum of space.

“Well done gents! But that was only the easy part, time to make these guys turn tail before they can fire again! Sanjiro- stay with me. Anden, you and Arthur do your thing.”

“Copy that.” Anden and Arthur said simultaneously.

This was what Anden had lived on for so long now, it was a part of him. Eliminating the target. Whether it was during his time with the VEN or working with his Father- this was it. One shot at a time, one ship at a time. The feel of the ship, feeling it become one with his thoughts and move with them. It was why he was and always would be a pilot.

He smiled.

The four interceptors let out a barrage of cannon fire that pelted against the attacking bombers shields, while some made contact on the ships hulls. One the bombers held its course... and ended up as a ball of fire and shrapnel. The four other broke away into two groups. This is where the fun begins. Anden thought to himself still grinning.

|| Phoenix Wing || Viper Squadron ||
FM/SCPO Beliam/Viper 3/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[MC][MC:2]

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Romanflame
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 23, 2009 4:48:42 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
When Arthur saw the Y's break off he steered his tie to the first group hoping that his new wing mate went for the other group.  The Y's were trying everything they could to get Arthur off them.  Arthur had a lock on the ships 6 times and he could not make himself pull the trigger. Then Ibram came on his com.

"Why are you not engaging them?"

All there was on the other side was static.

"Arthur you will shoot these guys down!" Ibram ordered him, and once again all he heard was static.  He then opened a link to Andens' com.

"What is going on why is he not responding?"

"I have no idea sir, but I'll try to reach him."

Arthur was trying to pull the trigger, but he could not help but to think that this might be another one of Lt. Grey's ploy to get us to do her dirty work.  He was trying to figure out how this news broadcast would go when his new wing man came on over his com.  This just in a group militia pilots who were trying to help to remove the pirate scum from the system were shot down, and killed by the people who said they would help.

"Arthur what are you doing out there why don't you shoot them down?"

The com was full of static for a few moments when Arthur finally came on.

"What if this is another false pirate attack?  How can i risk it I've killed too many civvies, and cant do it again."

"We can't know, but all we can do is to live and fight another day.  If this is another one of her games then we can only hope that she gets what coming for her."

The com went dead for another few moments as Arthur was trying to decide if he can pull the trigger.  If this is another one of her games then she best hope that I die out here, because if not then there will be no place she will be safe.

Arthur ship locked on and he fired at the first ship it took the hit full on and spun out of control till it blew up, and went on to the next with out a second thought.

"Lets do this Anden, see you in the hanger bay when this is all over."

Then he went back to the fight.  The last bomber took him in an head on collision with the last one of Andens' group.  It was coming close to hitting his ship but at the last second Arthur shot his rockets seeing that Anden broke off this one and took over his target.  Ibram came back on his and Andens' com.

"Ok now I want you to try to pull the fire off the Anaconda."

"Yes sir."
FM/LCRW Arthur/Viper 6/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE
Sanjiro
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 25, 2009 10:57:48 PM    View the profile of Sanjiro 
Sanjiro strutted through down through the corridor as others jogged or even sprinted. It was a scene that appeared as though everyone around him was working at super speeds, and he was stuck in slow motion. He reached his furry hands into his left breast pocket of his black pilot’s suit; inside of which was a long, dirty-gray, dura-steel tube. Encased within was a cigar from some far off planet, rare indeed, which Burukt had been eagerly been looking forward to once the mission was over; once he returned back to the station.

He hadn’t particularly been impressed with the Imperial Navy, not the squadron he had been assigned to anyway.

I believe these people are quite emotionally crippled, Burukt pondered as he drew closer to the hangar bay.

Burukt felt a thud on his left shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, and spinning him around. He turned his shoulders back around, and noticed a sweaty human, much taller than himself, with silky black hair that hung messily past his eyes, and as scruffy a beard as an Imperial pilot has ever had. The pilot look down at Burukt with his glazed, blood shot eyes.

“Excuse me,” The pilot said, his voice slightly cracking.

Burukt examined the man; his eyes, his expression, his dark overtone of defeat coursing within his body. “Officer Gage? Phineus Gage?”

“Yes,” Phineus said, a low tone grumble. A soft one, at that.

“You don’t look like the Captain of a droid militia,” said Burukt.

Phineus’ face contorted into confusion, “How did you…?”

“Nor like someone born on Mustafar,” Burukt spat out subtly, “though I can see the impression Coruscant had on you; and not a vestige one at that.”

“Who are you? How do you know me?”

“Ah, my apologies,” Burukt bowed, half-enthused, and continued, “where are my manners? I am Burukt Sanjiro’sutarr, or you can abridge that to Sanjiro if you wish.”

“You’re a baker,” Phineus said back, apathetically albeit with a tone of subtly, beneath the air, showing off how much he knew about Bothan culture, “and a scout.”

“I must say I am impressed, Officer Gage, what your files failed to mention was your knowledge in Bothese.”

“Why were you looking through my files, Crewman?” Phineus asked sharply.

Pulling rank? Not like I was thinking this human was above something like that.

“A smart man gathers the information of the people he’ll be spending the majority of his time with as soon and as effectively as possible. I know what there is to know about you, Anden Beliam, Ibram Tyrol, all of you. Since the information is in your unrestricted, un-confidential,” Sanjiro emphasized those last two words with more of a bite, “Naval files, there was no invasion of privacy.”

Phineus narrowed his brow, “You shouldn’t poke your nose in other people’s business, no matter how smart you are.”

You just don’t want others to know about your past, or with the state you’re in now, your present.

“I am sorry, sir,” the Bothan lied, “it won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“Get to the hangar bay now, Sanjiro, they’re taking off soon.”

However, will you be joining us?

“Aye, aye, Officer, right away,” as Sanjiro began to turn back around, he stopped himself, and faced Phineus again. “It’d be wise if you sprayed some cologne after using illegal narcotics, sir, so as to not alert any suspicion.”

Phineus stood, facing minor embarrassment, major appreciation of self choices, and swallowed, “I wouldn’t assume, Crewman.”

Sanjiro stood firmly, grabbing his right wrist behind his back with his left hand, “Is it not true? Have you not used spices and herbs to level your mind? I would imagine witnessing the death of your mother and murdering your own father to be unimaginably difficult to bare, even now.”

Phineus had an instinctive, hateful red rage grow deep inside of him. His fists clenched, along with his jaw, but did nothing. Almost immediately he was overcome with sadness, and within his mind, images of his previous actions during the mission.

The slaying of innocent people. Not so easy to bare. If I have to trust this man to fly with me, to essentially protect me, I have to make sure he can handle it. I know just how to accomplish that.

“Get to the hangar bay, Crewman, before you‘re demoted,” Phineus said, in a still soft tone.

“For what, sir? I have done nothing; just making sure you are mentally clear to fly.”

“That’s not your job, pilot. I suggest you get to that damn hangar bay,” Phineus’ voice grew with more anger with each spitting syllable.

“Yes, sir,” Sanjiro nodded in compliance, “I trust you will not end up getting any of us killed?”

Phineus snapped. Within moments, Sanjiro’s small stature was up against the white wall of the space station, his collar was gripped tightly in Phin’s sweaty hands. Prior to rejoining the Navy- again- Phineus was on a personal mission in Coruscant. One where a very close friend of his was murdered. Something that Phineus kept very private.

“That was not in my files, Crewman,” Phineus said, with a hint of despise on his breath.

“I know more than you think,” Sanjiro found it difficult to speak clearly in his current condition, but managed out the words as best he could.

“Where did you learn this?” Phin’s grip grew tighter.

“I have my ways, sir,” Sanji said, “I see you are rather easy to enrage.”

Phineus narrowed his brow, “I want answers immediately after the mission, Bothan.”

“So you will be with us, I presume?”

“Only to keep a very close eye on you,” Phineus lowered the Bothan. “One wrong move against one of my pilots and I will not hesitate to shoot you down.”

Sanjiro smoothed out his collar, “I believe we’ll get along just fine, Senior Officer.”

Sanjiro turned and left for the hangar bay. Once inside, he could nearly taste the salty, unconditioned air of the hangar. Technicians and mechanics made final checks and alterations to the TIE Interceptors, the pilots secured themselves inside, and the countdown to take off was imminent. In the distance, at the front of the bay, he noticed Ibram Tyrol salute from within his TIE. Sanjiro returned the salute, and managed into his own star craft. He strapped in the crash webbing, tightened his helmet, and was ready to depart. He had also noticed, as the TIE’s began to take flight, that Phineus Gage was not with them.

In the air, Sanjiro was apart of a team with Ibram, Anden, and Gunnay. They were assigned to handle some of the oncoming gunboats that were hell bent on destroying Badejoz space station, one way or another. They seemed chaotically organized, attacking from all sides and giving it all they had. The palette of colors was quite breath taking; if one were oblivious to what they meant, that is. It was the sign of battle, the colors of violence, graceful and beautiful albeit fatal. Viper squadron was the face of stability and heroic nature with their likeness of matte gray and black TIE Interceptors; which could also be seen as the face of conformity brought on by the Empire. The pirates bore the face of relaxed unison, all flying various star fighters- possibly each with their own personal craft- without any sense of likeness apart from their attacking of the Imperial Navy pilots.

“Careful,” Ibram said over the com, “gunboat dead ahead surrounded by three fighters.”

“Aye,” Sanjiro replied, “Gunnay and I will break off and take on the fighters.”

“Careful,” Anden said, “may the Empire be with you.”

Sanjiro and Gunnay split off from the formation, and began accelerating, “Alright, mate, I’m going to fire off a few shots to draw the fighter’s attention, that should put the heat on us and give Beliam and Tyrol a clear chance at the gunboat.”

Sanjiro did just that as him and Gunnay dove down below the targets; aptly followed by the three fighters.

Gunnay spoke in a worried tone, “Three against two? This won’t be easy.”

“You’re right,” a familiar voice came over the com, “so I think I’ll even the fight.”

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

Word count; 1,362
Who says I can't get stoned
Turn off the lights and the telephone
Me in my house alone
Who says I can't get stoned?

Who says I can't get stoned
Call up a girl that I used to know
Fake love for an hour or so
Who says I can't get stoned?
SiriSu
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  RE: Viper Squadron: Shades of Grey
November 29, 2009 9:28:51 PM    View the profile of SiriSu 
The first thing Tessa Fenn noticed when she arrived at the Badajoz Space Station was a sea of Imperial black. Everywhere she looked she saw personnel properly dressed in their uniforms. Unlike the slovenly New Republic military, the Empire maintained a strict code. 

Tessa’s family had died aboard a space station, the Death Star II, and she felt a pang of loss for her family as she began walking the hallways in search of her quarters. She had done well to suppress her grief and anger for as long as she possibly could; but her simmering hatred for the Rebel Alliance that had killed her family and toppled the Empire had finally overwhelmed her to the point that she gave up her easy lifestyle to attend the Imperial Academy so she could have her shot at killing as many rebel scum as possible.

Reaching her quarters she quickly unloaded what few possessions and non military issue clothing she had brought with her. Then looking at her watch she realized she didn’t have much time before she was expected to report for duty.      Duty to a squadron she didn’t want to be a part of.      Despite how well she had done at the Imperial Academy, some fool had still decided to place her in the most junior of all the squadrons – Cobra Squadron; and they would probably spend most of their time on patrol or providing escort. She sighed and thought, all in good time.  Still, Tessa wanted to continue to excel and prove herself to her superiors so she could move through the ranks as quickly as possible. The itch to fight was so overwhelming it was almost suffocating. 

Checking her uniform in the mirror to be sure it was absolutely perfect; she exited her quarters in search of her squadron leader. Walking through the station, she noticed a look of loss and downright confusion on some faces. If you didn’t like battle and death you should have applied for a desk job or stayed out of the military.

All of a sudden, warning sirens sounded and she felt the jolt of unmistakable cannon fire. Everyone began running through the halls, and while some seemed a bit chaotic, most still maintained the appearance of a well trained navy sprinting to their stations.  Tessa broke into a jog toward the hanger bay to receive her orders.
 
Reaching the flight bay, she scanned the area to find someone who was not busy jumping into a ship. She noticed a thin lipped, pale faced petty officer who was directing traffic as it were:
“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Cobra Squadron Leader.”
 
“Too late, he’s already in flight. Can I help you?”

“I’m Tessa Fenn, a new pilot in his squadron. If you have a ship for me, I’d love to fly it.”

“Well the rest of your squadron is over there in bay 7.” He pointed to it dismissively.

She ignored the slight. “Okay, thanks” and Tessa was sprinting again. Reaching the Cobra area, she checked in and had a helmet thrown at her and was inside the cockpit in less than two minutes.  Her group was next to take off and someone, she had no idea who but he was obviously in charge, said, “okay, keep it tight out there until we see what we’re up against.”

Tessa watched the other pilots take off and then heard “Cobra 7, you’re cleared for flight.” 

And with that, Tessa was off to join the fight.
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