Drac was sitting against a wall in his quarters, head tilted back to rest on the hard surface and eyes shut. Anger and sadness had a hold on him, twisting his gut like a riptide. The sadness was easy enough to understand and get hold of: He hadn't really wanted to be part of Catachan's execution. Killing someone in cold blood like that, even if they were a traitor, didn't eniterly sit well with him. But it had been his duty to do it, and he always did his duty. What would my parents think of this, I wonder? He snorted. They would likely see it as proof of the VE's evil, rather than the justice it is.

The anger, on the other hand...that wasn't so easy to manage. If Cat were still alive it might even have been hatred. But with the Trandoshan dead, there was no focus. Still, the focus was there for a moment... Drac's mind went back to the execution day. He'd heard that another pilot was killed that day as well; a member of Viper squadron. He hadn't taken much notice at the time, except to appreciate the fact that Nazgul had killed its traitor in private where there was no spectacle...only justice.

When it came to the execution itself, he remembered being nervous as they walked into a very nondescript room after winding their way through a maze of corridors. They met two VENI officers there, one of which issued what Drac was sure must be a standard (though very serious) warning. Looking at the two stone-faced officers, he had no wish to see them again. Unsettling was too conservative a word to describe them.

A moment later they entered the room where Catachan stood, outlined by a bright light. The group approached, and one of the VENI officers spoke to Cat. He said something back, then it was Driver's turn. The SC stepped up nose to nose with the Trandoshan, and Drac hoped to whatever gods or Force might be out there that Driver never turned that tone on him. He remembered some old cliche about "if looks could kill..." Well, if tones could kill Skrat would be freefloating atoms right about now.

When the SC finished speaking, Hunter and Slasher stepped forward and broke the traitor's swords, dropping them to the ground. Then it was Drac's turn. He stepped up, and felt rage build in him as he remembered Anoat. Because of Cat, because of his treachery, Albino had almost died. There were other results, of course, but nothing hit home like a threat to your wingman. And now Albino was just barely back from an extended sick leave, recovering physically and mentally from injuries he should never have sustained. What sort of twisted, heartless individual could do such a thing? Some might blame it on the stereotype of the cold blooded reptile killer....well, that was a pile of bantha dung. I'm cold-blooded too, but I would never even contemplate doing such a thing...I do, however, feel very cold blooded right now.

Pulling a vibroblade from his belt, Drac firmly grabbed the Imperial symbol on Skrat's uniform. He doesn't deserve to wear such an honorable symbol. Good people gave up their lives for this, and he desecrates that. The Mon Cal swung the vibroblade sharply, cutting deep and clean. His swing severed the patch from the uniform and opened a deep gash in the Trandoshan's flesh. Drac let the patch fall to the floor.

He repeated the process with Catachan's naval, rank, and Nazgul insignias, leaving a half dozen deep cuts in the traitor's body and a small pile of fabric on the floor by their feet. Finished, he looked into the cold, dark eyes one last time and then stepped back.

Geordi stepped up again, and got in the traitor's face. After a moment a snap-hiss echoed through the room as the human officer's lightfoil activated. Its argent blade spiked through the Trandoshan's head, killing him instantly. Drac shuddered; not at Skrat's fate, but at the lightfoil itself. It's twin had nearly killed him on Ator, and he still found himself wondering every day why Geordi's evil uncle had not taken that opportunity. At least none of the others saw me flinch...though they might well understand why. Then the group left with hardly a word. As they made their way back through the corridors of the Atrus, Drac spotted a waste disposal chute. He opened it and tossed the vibroblade in. I can always get another, and I don't want anything to do with that blade again...

-----

Drac's datapad beeped, startling him out of his reverie. He pulled it out and opened the waiting file. It was from Hunter, "Alright Nazguls. It’s time for a new mission. Report to the Nazgul barracks immediately for briefing."

Well, then. No more time for moping. The Petty Officer activated his comlink and turned it to Three Flight's channel, "Qayla, Eaglle, did you two get that?"

"Yes, sir."

"On my way, boss."

"Sounds good. I'll meet you there." Before he left his quarters, he double checked his gear. His blaster went into a holster on his hip, two combat knives into their sheathes in his sleeve and boot, and his loadout of grenades found their place in a pouch on his belt. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

A couple minutes later he arrived in the briefing room. It didn't look like White_Lightning or Eaglle were there yet, so he made his way over to Slasher for the moment.

OOC:

Words: 926

Eaglle was contemplating on what he had heard going on. First, when he had first arrived at Nezgul, people were coming back from the mission, injured emotionally and physically, or so it appeared to him. Slasher hadn't been able to watch the simulation because of his injury, and the only people who had been able to see it were his flight mates, were he made a few rookie mistakes.

Next thing that came to his mind, he was worried that, since his flight was almost all new pilots, besides Drac, the leader, other flight's might not respect his or trust his in combat all that much. Eaglle realized how this could be a problem, and he wasn't all that sure of himself from the last sim.

Next thing he knew, there was a public execution of 1 traitor, and he had heard rumors about a private one. I certainly hope that this is not the norm here... he thought to himself, as he walked into the bar and he sat down at one of the tables, and waited for the server to come over.

As he waited, he wondered how so many people could be traitors, and how gruesome public murders... er... executions were. While he knew that they had probably deserved it, he was still stunned at the fact. I guess that would be why I am not a soldier, as the personal part gets to me, Eaglle thought as the waitress came.

He ordered a beer when the server came, and sat back, pondering over the dynamics of the squadron, and listening to the movement in the tavern. There didn't seem to be very many people here right now, and eaglle could guess why. It was probably because of what he was thinking about earlier, the last mission.

Eaglle took one sip of his beer, which had just arrived, when he heard the announcement calling all nazzies to the barracks. Great... just great. I take one sip of my beer, and my first mission comes along, he thought as he gave his beer to the bartender, then starting walking along towards the barracks. His datapad beeped, and he read a message from Drac asking if they got the message.

"On my way, boss," Eaglle replied, and he jogged back to his quaters to suit up. This took some time, as it was only his third or fourth time in it, and he had to make room for his blaster. He took an outside backpack and put a combat knife and some rations in there, as he did not want to get in any trouble during combat. He stuck his ammo in the toolbelt of his flightsuit, and he decided to bring along a blaster rifle, a new A280 that he recently got from the ships store. From what I heard about this last mission, I might need this, and I will rig the ejection button so that my blaster ejects with me, he thought as he slung his bag over his shoulder, and started heading towards the briefing room
He jogged down toward the briefing room, and discovered that his hurry wasn't necessary, and Drac and Hunter were the only ones there. This better be interesting, as I gave up a beer for this, he thought grimly to himself.

OOC:

Word count: 551

Albino stepped out of the bacta tank, and was passed a towel to wipe himself down with. He held his finger over one nostril and blew out of his nose spraying an azure blue liquid all over the towel. He did the same with the other nostril and held the towel out to the medic who was standing nearby.

"I don't think so, mate, just drop it down that chute there"

said the medic, gesturing to a small laundry chute door. Albino walks behind a small screen, and counts the boxes from the top left, three down, four right. He pulls out a pair of shorts, a loose t-shirt and a new pair of boxers. Albino cautiously touches the large indented scar just below the centre of his chest, and lets out a deep, angry, humming-growl. He then changes quickly and slips on a pair of socks and trainers and walks up the the man stood in front of the Bacta tank.

"I think you're nearly done here, Albinostorm. Tomorrow will be your last stint in the tank and then you can bugger off."

Albino chuckles at this then makes his thanks and turns to jog off when the doctor calls him again

"Wait! before you go, tomorrow, you promised to tell me your real name. Will you keep that promise?"

Albino looks at the floor gravely and frowns, then looks up with eyes that have nearly died and been saved from the brink.

"Of course, but you'll have to tell me yours." And he also whispered gently as he turned again to walk away: "And I suppose I owe Slasher something pretty big too..."

Albino walked down to the gym, where he picked up a pair of gloves and walked up to a reinforced punchbag. He was putting the gloves on when he frowned again, this time screwing up his face and letting out a dark moaning growl.

Albino threw the gloves aside, then focused completely on the punch bag. Tunnel vision. He threw himself at it, laying into it and nearly tearing it apart, and his knuckles apart. One of the trainers noticed this and ran up to Albino, shouting at him to stop. Albino roared like a monster and took one final swipe at the reinforced punchbag, smashing it in half and lifting the top half off the hook, so that the two halves dropped five feet away with a loud clunk.

As the sand and metal plates spilled out, Albino looked down at his bleeding knuckles then up at everyone in the gym, who quickly averted their eyes but not their attention. Albino quietly said "sorry" and paced off to the doctors room to have his hand treated.

The doctors looked at him as he walked back in, and the one standing by the large bacta tank just laughed and pointed to a nurse, who led him to a machine which held his hand in bacta and stitched him up. Albino felt like such a child again, and he winked playfully at the nurse, who smiled and looked down, blushing. This made Albino laugh quietly, and a few of the doctors turned and frowned at the young boy and the junior nurse.

Albino was back at his room, changing slowly in his pilot's uniform when the bell rang for all Nazgul Flight members to make their way to the briefing room

"Here we go again" he sighed, running off to the briefing room

OOC:

Edit: 575 on the word count

Drac was still standing near Slasher when he noticed Hunter make his way quietly into the room. Slasher saw him as well, and both flight leaders nodded to the XO as he made his way toward the front of the room.

Glancing around, it was clear that few of the other members of the squadron had noticed Hunter's arrival, if any. Goth and Albino seemed to be drifting over toward seats, but they were the exception. Qayla appeared to be saying something to her R2 unit, and was paying little attention to the front at the moment. Drac frowned, I'm going to have to talk with her. Our mission briefings are considered classified information, and if she wants to bring her droid she'll have to submit to having its coding modified so that it's incapable of leaking intel. That can wait though. The other members of the squadron seemed similarly occupied.

Looking back at Hunter, Drac could see that the human had noticed this as well. He couldn't help smiling a bit as Hunter got a mischevious gleam in his eye and began breathing deeply. A moment later the SCPO's shout rang out through the room, causing many of the pilots to jump or flinch in surprise. Driver even poked his head into the room to see what was going on.

Once everyone had settled down Hunter went over the mission briefing. It was, unlike their other missions, relatively innocuous. If only. Anyone who's ever flown with Nazgul knows that no mission we go on ends up being simple or easy. Somehow we manage to attract anything even remotely hostile no matter what we're actually doing...though I wonder: Will swords be involved yet again? It seems like every mission so far ends up with swordplay.

Returning his attention to the task at hand, the Mon Cal performed a final check on his equipment. Everything seemed to be in place and in good repair. Once he finished he caught Qayla's eye, drawing her off to the side before he explained the circumstances with her droid to her.

Once everything had been handled in the briefing room, Drac made a stop at the Atrus's holo-recording bay. He gave the appropriate information to one of the techs, then stepped into one of the private booths. After a moment the status indicator on the holo-recorder flashed green and he began. The Mon Cal addressed his message to his parents, going over the standard things he said every time he made such a message, then adding in whatever details and particulars he felt were appropriate.

Stepping out of the booth again, the Petty Officer hoped that this message -like all the others before it- would never be sent. Recording a good-bye as a way of delivering a final message if he were to die on a mission was maudlin, to be sure, but he never failed to do so. Whether or not he agreed with his parents' politics, they were still his parents. It would be wrong of him to not do what he could to ease their pain if he were to die. I heard once that most pilots do not survive their first five missions. After that their survivability increases, but it never gets really high. I've still got a long way to go before I even get there, though...

Once he was satisfied that his duty to his parents had been carried out, Drac headed for the hangar. When he got there he nodded to several other members of the squadron who had entered before him, then approached a tech, "What's the status of my fighter?"

"She's completely repaired, Petty Officer. Good as new. Just try not to break her again, would you? We're already getting tired of replacing your shield generators every time you return from a mission."

Laughing, Drac replied, "I'll see what I can do. You know, I enjoy getting her damaged even less than you do repairing her. It'd suit me just fine if she never got another scratch...but that's not too likely, is it?"

"No, sir. It's not. Just keep bringing her back, though, and we'll fix her up again every time."

"Thanks," Drac waved at the man respectfully, then walked over to his Avenger. A quick visual inspection went well, with no obvious problems rearing their ugly heads. Once he was satisfied, the Mon Cal checked his chrono and looked around to see if he could spot Driver or Hunter somewhere around.

OOC:

Word Count: 746

The briefing was short and sweet, just the way Goth liked them.

'A recon...more like a seek and destroy.'

Goth thought to himself.
The new mission was what he expected.
He knew the pirates wouldn't be happy about loosing their asteroid, and would be looking for revenge.

'It would seem they found the place, one of our asteroids, poetic.
That is if it even was pirates.
Untrustworthy reports, someone must have believe them if Nazgul was going in.
You didn't send Nazgul Squadron in unless you expected big trouble.

These were Goth's thoughts as he left the briefing room.
When Goth got into the hallway he was distracted from them as a young officer gave him a funny look. Goth thought about calling him out on it. Then decided he didn't have the time at the moment.
He was used to people looking at him funny because of his appearance, but he still didn't like it.
He had a mission, which meant no time, but he marked the man in his mind for future.......discussions.

Back at his room he went through the usual equipment check: a vibro up his sleeve, and one in his boot. His trusty DL-44 in its holster, the other for behind the ejector seat. And of course his toolkit.
Goth hefted his new M5 and did a complete check of the weapon. Which would also be strapped behind the ejector seat.
Throwing it back on the bed with the other equipment, he sat down and started studying maps.
The maps covered everything on the area for the new mission, including schematics of the mining facility. While he did this he had Arch giving him statistics for the mine and the general area around the asteroid field.
When Goth was satisfied that he knew the maps like the back of his hand, he sat back and relaxed for a few moments.
Then decided he should get down to the Flight Deck.
On his way out the door he grabbed the toolbag and weapons off the bed. Slinging the M5 on his shoulder, and carrying the tool kit in one hand and the spare DL in the other.

At the Flight Deck Goth went straight to the 'Bloody Dagger'.
Once inside he strapped his extra gear in its usual place behind the seat in the cockpit.
Goth went through all the checks, and everything checked out, so he put his Avenger on stand by then climbed out to see who else was on the Flight Deck.
The first person he spotted out on the deck was the Deck Commander. He was giving final orders to the deck crews, before the Nazgul Squadron launch.
Goth waited for him to finish, then walked over and finally got a chance to thank him for the paint job. It was the first time he had seen him, since he saw it for the first time as he was climbing in for the last mission launch. And they had road home to the 'Atrus' from the last mission on a Nebulon-B, instead of flying straight back.
As Goth was talking to the commander Arch walked up saying,

'You forgot this sir.'

Handing him a datapad with all the info and maps they had been going over.
There was only one problem Goth had found in his new droid; its voice. It bothered anyone who was close enough to hear it. Goth was planning on reprogramming it, but just hadn't had the time.
After Goth thanked the droid it turned around and walked off the Flight Deck. Goth hoped it would find the data he was having trouble locating, while he was gone.

After Having a small conversation With Slasher and saw his wingmate, Stewart-power galncing at him thoughtfully. Albino hadn't gotten to know his Mon Cal wingman all that well, so he wondered what an effect that would play on his communication. He though against going up to Thel and talking to him, thinking that his antisocial tendancies might make him look unfriendly. Albino Strode off to the /Hangar to check down his fighter.

Albino's Avenger had recently been granted a name. As with his tradition, Albino had chosen a name beginning with 'B'. In red paint, so that it looked like a blood splatter was the italicised name 'Bloodlust' placed on the top solar wing panel, and on the bottom, in a similar font was the phrase 'I See Everything'. One of the technicians was walking away with a bucket of red paint and a thermodryer as Albino approached the fighter, whom albino smiled and tilted his cap to, whilst simultaneously lowering his head.

Albino took another glance at the writing on the fighter and the corner of his lip turned upwards. He popped the hatch, and went over a few pre flight checks. His last mission had nearly killed him, and the man who had saved him was being forced into one of the most boring jobs a pilot can be assigned. Albino knew this from his own experience. Being forced to watch all the fun happen, and not be there where you are most needed is a strain.

Albino Athletically bounced out of the fighter grinning and waving to one of the medics who had saved him back on that hell-hole asteroid. The medic was loading up a recovery transport for emergencies, and he waved back, visibly shocked to see Albino so well so soon. To tell the truth, this was all show, ans the grin from Albino was him clenching his teeth as a shot of pain went round his chest, which had been sewn together. Albino Slipped his trusted Deathwind sniper rifle under the seat of his cockpit and let out a gasp as his scar rubbed against the rim of the cockpit. Albino would have to see a psych about this irrationality.

After Sitting patiently for a few minuites, Albino Forced himself up, And decided to look for Thel, and maybe try learn a thing or two, other than name rank and number.

Hunter was making his way towards his Avenger when he noticed a human male looking at some of Nazgul’s TIEs, unbeknownst to the pilots of those TIEs. Frowning, he stopped and walked over to man. Reaching out, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, but what are you doing?” Hunter asked quietly.

“I’m looking for Senior Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell. Do you know where I could find him? I was just placed in Nazgul Squadron and I need to find him to let him know.” the man replied.

Hunter opened him mouth, but hesitated and closed it.

I could have some fun with this . . . but no. I’m not. We need to get on with the mission and we can’t afford to wait around.

“You found me. Whats your name?” Hunter said.

“Hannibal, sir.” the man replied.

“Hannibal, eh? Alright then. Get yourself a helmet and hop into one of the TIEs. We’ll be heading out shortly, so don’t fall behind.” Hunter said, raising an eyebrow slowly and jabbing a finger at the nearby TIEs.

After Hannibal moved away, Hunter jogged over to the Avengers. Standing beside his TIE Avenger, he watched Scral, the second newest Nazgul member. The young man seemed to be a decent pilot, from what Hunter had seen while the recruit was still in the Naval Academy. Hunter was actually looking forward to flying with him, curious to see what the man could do behind the controls of the powerful TIE Avenger. As soon as Scral entered the cockpit and settled down, Hunter glanced around and saw that everybody else had entered their respective TIEs and were starting the preflight checklist. Scrambling up the side of the TIE, he deftly jumped up and swung around, slipping into the seat with practiced ease.

I really did mean what I said about blasting Scral out of the sky. There are too many new guys passing through the Naval Academy these days that think they’re hotshot pilots who, in reality, can barely get their TIE’s off the ground and have trouble in combat. Those are the ones who deserve to be shot out of the sky. If Scral can prove himself a good pilot, I’ll allow him to stay in my flight. If he doesn’t, well, he’ll be killed by the enemy long before I can reach him.

Finishing that thought, he was startled to see he had already completed the preflight.

I guess it is so ingrained into my mind that I can do it without conscious thought. Interesting.

Switching the com on, Hunter accessed the squadron channel.

“Alright guys. I assume you all are done by now, so lift off and follow me. We’re entering hyperspace at these coordinates. Transmitting now. Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Everybody say hey to Nazgul’s newest member and no it isn’t you Scral. Ladies and Gentlemen, Hannibal!”  he said quickly, knowing he probably just embarrassed the hell out of the new recruit.

Snickering, he punched a few buttons and sent the coordinates to the nine other pilots that made up Nazgul Squadron. Sighing, Hunter increased the throttle and pulled back on the control yoke, bringing the TIE up into the air. Maneuvering out of the hangar, he set the fighter on autopilot and stretched, reaching up to the top of the cockpit with outstretched hands. Reaching behind the seat, he felt the hollow he had created where he hid a few weapons that he might need in case he had to eject from a crashing fighter or had to fight the enemy outside his fighter. He felt the disassembled StA-52 SLAR, on top of which rested his Lucky Strike shotgun that he loved dearly. He swept his hand down to the pouch on the seat’s side that usually contained the standard issue DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol, but had been switched out to contain M4 Bull Stopper Semi-automatic Pistol that Hunter favored more. Soon, they had reached the coordinates for the jump and Hunter started the countdown to the jump.

“Ten, nine, eight, . . .”

If everything goes well, we’ll be back here in no time. But then again, nothing ever goes well. Ever.

“. . . Three, two, one. Go, go, go.” Hunter said, pulling back on the lever and watching the stars lengthen into lines as he entered hyperspace.

Goth and the deck commander talked for a few more minutes after Arch walked off. Then the commanders com went of, a reminder of a meeting. So after a quick good-bye and good luck, the commander headed to his office.
Goth took a look around the flight deck; he saw Stewart-Power (Nazgul 15) inspecting his Avenger, and Albino (Nazgul 14) doing the same.As he walked over to the open area to a wait final instructions, Goth noticed the newest member of the squadron Nazgul 6, what was his name? Scral or something like that. He was sitting in a chair in front of his fighter staring at it.

Everyone has a ritual before a mission.'

Goth thought to himself.
Then taking inventory of his equipment in his mind and remembering something he forgot. So he quickly ran back to his room to get it.
When he got there the room was empty. Goth figured Arch was out going through data somewhere.
After grabbing his custom blaster and putting it into his usual place, Goth went back to the flight deck.
On the way he ran into his wingman looking to get a quick inspection of his Avenger before mission launch.
As they walked they discussed flight strategies and made sure they were on the same page.
Back on the flight deck Nazgul 4 went to do his preflight check and Goth walked over to the briefing area again and noticed that Scral was still in the chair. Goth wondered if he had fallen asleep.
Goth thought about walking over and striking up a conversation with him, then decided not too. He didn't want to chance disturbing the new pilot, and so many had come and gone he wasn't sure if he would still be here tomorrow. Plus he was still stinging from the traitor.
Thinking about that dead pilot was not good for his train of thought just before a mission, so he went back to his fighter.
Once he climbed in he did a quick check of the maps, then did another preflight check. Then he did a visual inspection of everything in the cockpit. Finishing with an inspection of the outside of the Avenger.
Comfortable that all was in order, Goth met up with the other members of Nazgul Squadron for the final briefing.
When he saw his wing man,

'Good to go?'

'Everything is A OK.'

Came the reply.
After the briefing, as the squadron were going to their fighters, they came upon Scral still sitting in his chair. He jumped up knocking the chair over in his haste then saluted.
The XO introduced him, but there was no time for pleasantries, mission time was now.
When Goth climbed into his fighter he strapped in and did one final check of all systems. Everything looked good, then he keyed his com,

'All systems check.'

And then heard the other members com in with a go.
The XO commed in and introduced yet another new pilot to the squadron, one Hannibal.

"I wonder how long this guy will last."

Then jump coordinates came in.
After launch as the squadron hit open space they formed a tight formation then hypered out as one.

Drac glanced at his ship's status lights as an alarm buzzed through his cockpit. The alarm was set to go off at five minutes until re-entry. Satisfied that all was in working order, he returned his gaze to the main screen of his fighter and started going over the mission one last time. The rundown of the operation was thus:

[Briefing Begins]
Mission Type: Reconaissance
Mission Terrain: Open space/Asteroid field
VE Unit: Nazgul Squadron
Start Point: mSSD Atrus
Mission Location: VE Mining Installation VEM-027 & surrounding space
End Point: mSSD Atrus

Known VE Forces (In Area): None
Known Enemy Forces (In Area): N/A
Current Threat Assessment: Green Yellow Orange Red
[Briefing Ends]

Well, there's no guarantee we'll see any action. Then again, there was no guarantee we'd see action on the way to a funeral either. We'll just have to wait and see. Looking at the countdown timer again, the Mon Cal saw that it was now down to three minutes. Activating his comm unit, he sent a text to the rest of three flight, "Nazgul Nine to Nazguls Ten and Eleven: Double check your systems one last time and get ready. We don't know what we'll run into here, if anything. Stay on my wing and keep an ear open for your callsign and you'll do just fine."

Drac followed his own advice, doing one last check of his personal equipment and weapons. Satisfied that everything was as controlled as he could make it, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He'd done this before, of course, but the element of the unknown just before you exited hyperspace still unnerved him. It probably did that even to the most experienced pilots. Starfighters weren't the most durable ships in the galaxy, after all, and most jumps were pretty much blind.

A moment later a second alarm rang out, this one for thirty seconds to reversion. Drac rested his hands on his control unit, letting his fingers brush the various dials and buttons. He twisted his head sharply, cracking his neck vertebrae, then took a firmer grip on the control yoke.

Seconds later Nazgul reverted to real space. As soon as he confirmed that there was nothing in visual range, the Mon Cal glanced at his active scanners...all quiet there too. He nodded, satisfied that there were no threats in the immediate area.

A moment later Hunter's voice crackled over the comm,"Nazguls: Break by flights and spread out, triangle formation. Put ten klicks between each flight and turn your active scanners up to full power. One Flight goes top left, Two goes top right, and Three goes bottom."

Drac waited a beat, then thumbed his own mike and replied, "This is Nine. I copy. Three Flight breaking off." He glanced at his monitor, then switched to Three Flight's channel, "You heard him, Nazzies. Come to heading 045 and turn active scanner up to full. Better yet, do this: Ten, aim yours starboard and below. Eleven: Aim your scanners to port and below. I'll aim mine forward and below."

Three flight banked in good order and began to get some distance between it and the rest of the squadron. After a moment Drac's comm crackled, "Nine, why point our scanners in a specific direction?"

"They've got better range that way. Scanning in all directions at once limits their range. This way we cover all of our vectors, but with better range and detail."

Before they could reply, Hunter came over the comm again, "Here's our route: Once we've gotten out to range, we turn to heading 315 and proceed, scanning as we go. Thirty minutes should put us in range of the asteroid field, and another two will get us close enough to the mining installation to sense it. We do our flyby, then continue for another thirty minutes to get the other side of the system. Report anything suspicious you pick up."

"Understood, sir." Drac replied. "Got that, Three Flight?"

"Yep."

"No problem, chief."

Once the squadron made its formation it proceeded on course. Drac kept his attention mostly on his scanners, but broke off every minute or so to look around and make a visual confirmation of his readings, such as he could. For once it actually looked like this might be a milkrun. It was hard to resist the temptation of boredom.

After quite a while the comm unit beeped once more, "Five, this is Three. I've got something."

Instantly Drac straightened in his chair and triple checked his systems, listening intently to the comm as Hunter answered, "Go ahead, three."

"It's in our foreward arc, high and to port...just a moment, focusing my scanners on it...Sithspit!"

"What?!?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It's a rogue asteroid. Must have been knocked out of the asteroid field. False alarm." Drac could hear Goth sounding a bit sheepish. He could also imagine the groans all around. The Mon Cal shrugged. Those things happened to everyone. Goth'd be getting a good bit of ribbing about it, but there wasn't any real harm done.

-----

After some time the squadron frequency beeped another message, this one from Hunter, "We're five minutes out from the asteroid belt. Seven out from the installation."

"Roger that, sir." Well, at least it was almost half over. Though it looked like the last half of this run was going to drag on even longer than the first.

Two minutes later Drac had his thinking radically changed. Space boiled for a moment at a point nearly at the center of the Nazzie formation as several ships jumped in from hyperspace. Two large transports appeared in formation, heading toward the asteroid field.

Hunter came over the comm, "Unidentified transports, this is SCPO Hunter-Morrell of Nazgul Squadron, Vast Empire. State your business in this system."

A dry, raspy laugh echoed through the channel a moment later, "Our business, Imperial scum? Our business is none of your concern. Leave us to it."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain...?"

"My name doesn't matter, Imp. Like I said, get your snotty noses out of our business."

"And I don't particularly care. State your business in this system, and your cargo, or leave it."

"We leave when we want to, you snot-nosed little nerfherder...But if you insist on seeing our cargo..." The comm unit emitted the rasping static of the man's laugh for a moment, then click off. A few seconds later hangars on each ship opened up, spitting out six Headhunter snubfighters each.

Drac resisted the urge to curse, instead bringing his weapons online and thumbing his comm switch, "Three flight: Collapse in toward Two flight; we'll try to meet up with them for some coordinated torpedo strikes. Use the enemy snubbies for cover: They won't fire their transports' armaments at their own ships."

Matching actions to words, the Petty Officer pulled up into a vector that would meet up with Two Flight while still allowing him to turn toward the enemy snubfighters. It was a good idea, since four of the Headhunters turned toward Three Flight and accelerated.

Two of the oncoming fighters jumped out ahead of the rest, gaining considerably on the Imperial craft. They must have diverted power from another system to boost their speed. There're two systems they could've drawn power from: Shields or Weapons...hmm.

Deciding to take a chance, Drac thumbed his weapons control over to proton torpedos and settled the crosshairs on one of the enemy craft. To do so he had to swerve out of line for a moment. He got a lock tone quickly, though, and loosed a missile at his enemy before swinging back on course. The enemy fighter seemed to hesitate for a moment, then jerked sharply out of its line of flight. It wasn't enough, though, and the proton torpedo impacted on the ship. The explosive easily pushed through the fighter's reduced shielding, going on to slam into the craft's port engines. It detonated there, basically vaporizing the back half of the ship as the engines blew in multiple sympathetic detonations. The Headhunter's threat index dropped to zero.

Toggling his comm over to the squadron channel, Drac called out his observation, "They didn't realize we have missiles, Nazzies. If you see any of them moving faster than they should, pump a torpedo into them. Better do it quick, though, cause they'll catch on soon if they haven't already.

OOC:

Enemies:
12 Headhunter starfighters (-1 now)
2 Transports

For referece, the scanning formation and opening battle positions were this: 1=1 Flight, 2=2 Flight, 3=3 Flight, T=Transports

1----2
\  T  /
  \  /
    3

OOC:

I'm not going to include Stewart in any more posts as he is on extended leave till the end of summer so consider 2 Flight full with albino filling the last spot temporarily till the end of the mission.

At least two fighters are gone, but those fighters aren't our most pressing problem. Why hasn't the outpost said anything yet? With their scanners, they should of picked up these pirates and sent a force out to deal with them . . . unless they're occupied with something at the moment.

It took a moment for that observation to sink in and it hit Hunter like a starved rancor. The reason that these fighters were able to get this close without the outpost responding is because they're scouts. But they aren't scouting out the outpost, they're making sure nobody gets close enough to find out what they're doing.

Oh no. They've come for the mining company.

"New orders guys. Two Flight break off from me and continue on without me, I repeat break off. I'm going to check something out. All of you, keep those fighters off my tails, but slowly move towards the outpost because I might need some backup if my hunch is correct." Hunter said into the comm quickly, already
swinging his Avenger around and heading for the distant outpost.

Now that he was concentrating on it, he could see a firefight had started in the distance, evidenced by the flashes of light erupting from out of nowhere and disappearing in a small explosion. He pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go and sped off towards the outpost. As they approached, the flashes of light got bigger and Hunter could barely make out what looked to be ships zipping through space around the outpost. Then they got close enough to see the outpost clearly for the first time. It was ragged, with pockmarked walls where shots had hit it and opened up the inside to the cold vacuum of space and its contents were still floating out. That angered Hunter for he knew those were troops and pilots loyal to the Vast Empire. Shaking his head in disgust, he slowed to a stop before they got too close to the battle and were identified as VE starfighters.

"Drac, report." Hunter barked into the comm.

"Uh . . . three, no two now. We're just about finished up here." Drac said slowly.

"Alright. One Flight and Two Flight, break off and join us over here. Be careful and don't get too close to the battle. Three Flight, continue on with the fighters and join us when you're done."

Sighing, Hunter closed the channel and settled back into the seat, watching the battle.

OOC:

Alright guys. This is a twist in the story. We weren't originally supposed to meet the actual pirate fighters, but its ok. It actually worked out for the best. All of you, just write about the dogfighting and all that, maybe have some thinking about where I'm going and why. Just some good ol' fighting and possibly some CD. MOst of all, have fun.

Drac rolled out to the left to avoid incoming fire from one of the remaining headhunters, then banked around in a long loop designed to bring him back into the engagement zone from a distance. As he came back in he looked out the side and was happy to see Eaglle was still with him and had gotten a kill of his own. Furthermore, One Flight, from the quick glance he was able to give it, appeared to be giving their opponents hell as well.

Turning his attention back to Three Flight's opponents, Drac saw that the two remaining headhunters had formed up as wingmen and were coming in for a head-to-head pass. Do they really think they can pull that off in those antiques? Our shielding is worlds better than theirs. Not to mention we've got more firepower. More fools, they.

Centering his brackets on the left headhunter, the Mon Cal began to wait for the range to scroll down. With his other hand he flicked the comm switch, "Eleven, target the right headhunter with your lasers. When I tell you to, switch to proton torpedos. Fire if you get a lock. Hopefully we'll get them, but even if we don't they'll have to break off and give us a chance to come in on their sixes."

"Will do, Nine," came the reply.

Drac waited another five seconds, then said, "Now!" following his own instructions, he switched to proton torpedos. Within ten seconds or so he had a lock on his target and fired. By that time it was getting down to pretty close range for a missile, but the enemy pilot did manage to react in time. The headhunter broke sharply from its line of flight, going into energetic evasive maneuvers as it sought to shake the torpedo.

Smiling now, Drac pulled the nose of his craft up and to the right, following the enemy craft as it bugged out. He fired as soon as he settled into the enemy fighter's aft arc, and watched the Z-95's shields flash and fail as his bolts hit the mark. Suddenly his opponnt decelarated sharply, trying to get behind him. Drac pulled up sharply, beginning a loop to eat up some distance.

Completing his loop, the Mon Cal took in the situation. It looked like Eaglle was going after his opponent with abandon. The Headhunter he'd chased, though, was coming back around...or trying to. His turn rate and speed seemed badly reduced, and as the enemy ship finally finished its maneuver Drac could see why. Its left wing was missing the outer meter and a half completely, and much of the rest of the wing appeared half melted and warped. Time to put him out of his misery.

Accelerating hard, Drac drove in on his target. The headhunter, for his part, was trying to go back to the freighters. The pirate obviously had had enough...but he was still a pirate. Mon Calamaris were famous for their dislike of pirates, smugglers, and other forms of the fringe, and Drac did tend to fit that stereotype. For him though, it was because they disrupted the lives of innocent people and harmed them for their own gain and pleasure. His opponent was done, but Drac wanted him dead. He fired as soon as he came into range and was surprised to see all four bolts converge on the pirate's cockpit with astonishing precision. For the briefest second there was the dark outline of a human form, then it dissolved in the light of the explosion. The headhunter continued for a momen, its course now merely ballistic, then disintegrated.

OOC:

Enemy fighters left: 7 (-5)

Word count: 604

Drac allowed himself a satisfied smile when Eaglle rejoined him on his wing. The four enemies they'd faced hadn't stood much of a chance, and now the brigands were dead because of their false courage. Glancing around, he spotted a Z-95 fleeing from One Flight, doing everything it could to put some distance between itself and the Nazguls' hungry lasers. One flight, meanwhile, was busy with the coward's remaining wingman, who seemed to be quite skilled.

Banking, the Mon Cal turned and started on an intercept course for the enemy ship. He'd deal with the cowardly pirate. Vectoring in, he measured the time-to-range. It was at thirty seconds. He used the time to take a good look at his sensors and to scan the area visually. It looked like the enemy was down to a hanful of fighters, while the Nazzies hadn't lost anyone. They must have might quite an impression, because the two transports were currently taking advantage of a gap between his flight and Two flight to bug out.

At five seconds to range, Drac re-settled his hands on the controls and set his lasers to fire single shots. A quad burst would kill the Headhunter in one or two shots, most likely, but that wasn't what Drac wanted. No, this pirate was going to regret drawing Drac's attention for a while before he died. Moments later Drac's croos hairs glowed with a good lock and he fired twice. The two bolts screamed in at the nose of the Z-95, which didn't react. A moment later first one, then the other, impacted on the ship's nose. The fool had all shields aft, when there were still enemy fighters ahead. I can't believe that.

Now the enemy ship reacted, jerking violently away as the pilot desperately tried to escape this new threat. As the ship's nose turned, though, Drac spotted several small dots falling from the scorched holes his lasers had punched in the craft's bow. Concussion missiles...I shot a hole in his magazine. An interesting hit, for sure. And it means he can't hit me with a missile.

Drac swung around to get back on the headhunter's tail, following it through an immelman and a low speed yo-yo in quick successin. The pilot, coward though he was, was no slouch. His skills, however, were not saving him. Three grazing blows and a solid hit from Drac's lasers took down the enemy ship's rear deflector shields and burned a long black streak on one of the engines.

The pirate tried one last, desperate move. He shut his engines off and didn't maneuver at all, attempting to cause a collision. The Petty Officer ignored the clamoring collision alarms in his cockpit, fired twice, and rolled out to avoid the enemy craft. A louf bang resounded through his hull, and his shields fell to twenty five percent. As they began recovering, he realized what had happened: He'd hit the enemy ship, but only barely. Even a slightly more direct strike would have likely destroyed both craft. As it was, Drac's two shots hit the enemy ship and cored deep into its aft, melting portions of the internal structural support. The collision, happening moments later, sheared off the supports that hadn't been melted. Welds broke and wires snapped as the headhunter came apart, disintegrating silently and without fanfare.

As he made his way back toward the main part of the action, Drac checked his scanners again. As he looked one of the four remaining headhunters, one flight's last opponent, blew apart. The other enemies seemed not much better off. Just then Hunter's voice came over the comm unit, "Drac, report."

Splitting his attention between the conversation and the enemy blips on his screen, Drac replied, "Uh...three, no two now. We're just about finished up here." One of the enemy blips disappeared even as he spoke.

Hunter replied, "Alright. One Flight and Two Flight, break off and join us over here. Be careful and don't get too close to the battle. Three Flight, continue on with the fighters and join us when you're done."

"Understood, Five. We'll be with you shortly." Finding the nearest opponent, Drac switched to Three Flight's channel, "Guys, this one's yours. Get him, we'll get the last one, and then we join up with the others."

OOC:

Okay, guys. The story's moving up. Eaglle, me, and Qayla can post about killing the last two enemies. Everyone else form up on Hunter. Maybe throw in some observations of the battle or flashbacks to kills that haven't been written out yet. We'll get into the main fight shortly.

Albino Joined up With Scral and Hannibal as he had been ordered by Slasher, He took a quick look at his scanner and a visual confirmation proved that after he had broken up with Stewart in the dogfight, he had not rejoined. Albino checked on his temporary wing mates, who wouldn't yet have much of a clue who he was.

Hunter had realised something and had gone off to the base early, and Albino was the highest ranking member of the flight. Albino decided to introduce himself.

"Hey! 6 and 7, The name is Albinostorm, but Albino'll do. Since my FL is on medical, I'm gonna be sticking with you guys. for a While 'till he gets back, so any questions, tell me later."

Albino, satisfied with this introduction, took his chance to take up a lead position within the 3 of them. He was aware of his being a bit overzealous, but he ignored that. He wouldn't let anything happen to these rooks on his watch.

His mind flashed back to his last kill, a real challenge, despite the fact that it was a headhunter, the pilot made up for that. Albino nearly sympathised for him. Albino had been forced into piracy at an early age, as a pilot himself. He knew that many pirates did not have any choice over their actions. Despite this, Albino was very aware that hit was him or the pirate.

They both charged head-on, causing Albino to underestimate the pilot, and as the pilot broke off to the left, he twisted and prepared to come in behind Albino. The avenger was a lot more maneuverable than the pilot expected however, and Albino shot round in a tight circle and came on up behind the enemy pilot. And that, recruits is an offset head-on pass he chucked to himself at how easily he had performed the manoeuvre.

His Attack was cut short, however, as he banked down, and tried to pull up on the Pirate's tail, but the Pirate had banked upwards and pulled down and and around, so that his turn had inverted him and he was lined up on Albino's underbelly. Albino quickly cut all his thrusters, but being in space he continued moving forwards. He then spun the craft over, lining a shot up on the pirate, and as the two passed, they tore each other's shields to shreds. now it was a real dogfight. The next shot on either of them would be a killing blow.

Albino accelerated out of the turn, so that he was above and behind the headhunter, which preceded to roll rapidly around Albino's turning circle.Albino countered this by doing the same to the Pirate, and at the end of the intricate dance they were back where they started, save for the fact that Albino was no longer in a position to get a shot off.

"why wont you frakkin' Die!"

Came the scream from Albino as his sinewy arms tightened around the flight controlls and his face contorted into a grimacing sneer. It is always said that the worst thing a pilot can do is lose his composure, but the opposite applied for Albino, whose bloodlust now overtook his compassion for the man he was about to kill. Albino pulled up and the Pirate baked into him, a bad mistake, and now Albino pulled down, and bored hot laser into the enemy fighter, completely vapourising it. This was followed Closely by a string of extreme vulgar obscenities.

Albino chuckled to himself at how close that dogfight had gotten, but now shields were back up from 3% to 100%, as Albino had switched all weapons power to shields to recover, missing out on the rest of the action.

OOC:

I think that leaves 6 more bandits for you guys to take down