Two weeks had passed since the 2nd Vast Empire Fleet took control of a new system, its shipyards and perhaps more important than either of those the ISD formerly known as the Skyhawk. The fighting wasn't exactly easy and even now plenty of ships, including the Dead Gun were still undergoing repairs. This alas meant that the Vast Empire was unable to respond to all the calls it received from the various worlds in its controlled space.

Smaller capital ships or even single squadrons were sent out on recon or pacifying missions, if enough firepower could be spared for the latter. Too bored of patrolling the same system almost day after day and too frustrated to return to a ship where constant repairs were both noisy and simply in the way, Seth Qorbin decided to accept one such mission.

He was just reading through the very brief dossier command had provided him with when the other members of his squadron showed up. A few more transfers occurred during those past couple of weeks, including a Mon Calamari high ranking enough to be given the position of squadron executive officer. Seth actually stopped to wonder a few times whether he should be concerned about the looks the Trandoshan pilot was giving the newly assigned SXO. Chances of one pilot eating another were somewhat slim though. Not entirely non-existent but definitely slim - or so at least Seth kept telling himself.

"Take a seat everyone. Also feel free to order some drinks and celebrate us leaving this system..."

He paused whilst a few members of the squadron - likely as bored and annoyed by all the repairs as he was - cheered and applauded.

"I know, i know... It's just temporary though. Still, any amount of respite should be welcome, right?"

A few hushed agreements and some nodding as well but everyone else was clearly less enthusiastic than a moment earlier.

"Right... Anyway, these are our orders..."

He paused, leaned over towards the built-in datapad conveniently placed in the large conference table and pressed a few buttons. Moments later the mission data was uploaded to all the other datapads. Now all the pilots had to do was also lean in and access the info.

"Our destination ladies and gents is the Kooda system. As you may or may not know it's one of those systems where piracy is constantly an issue. There are simply too many asteroid belts where they can hide and ambush trade ships or convoys. Local military is trying to deal with them but as you all should know by now a small enemy force that has the advantage of the terrain can and often will be able to defeat a larger and better equipped force that fails to adapt to the new surroundings quickly enough."

"The thing is... recently Kooda representatives have complained that the pirates started acting out even more aggressively than usual. Where once there were only a dozen or so attacks per month, they now reported 23 attacks in the last three weeks alone. Even more intriguing is the fact that one such attack occurred on a military ship that was transporting supplies. Although that ship was not even recovered, the squadron escorting it was found blown to bits. It is thus easy to understand why they're getting jumpy and requesting for our help."

"The brass decided to investigate these incidents by first sending in a squadron to assess the threat level. We are that squadron and we are thus supposed to figure out whom is to blame, what are they flying, how are they flying, where are they located, why the sudden aggressive spree and any other worthwhile piece of information we may find. We are then to report back and wait for the VEI to analyze our data and figure out something from there."

"Feel free to read the whole briefing as well as the attached documents the Kooda military sent us. They basically mention hot spots, describe a few incidents in further detail and most importantly perhaps they also mention a few maneuvers the opposition keeps making use of. Again, feel free to read all this but i'd urge you not to rely on it. At least not fully anyway - keep in mind our own intelligence services weren't able to verify any of this after all."

"You have two hours to familiarize yourselves with this, prep your gear and be on the flight deck ready to depart. If there are no questions then i for one intend to use this time to catch some shuteye. Probably in the locker room as that seems to be one of the few places on this whole ship where repairs aren't needed or heard. So then... questions anyone?"

OOC:

Nightshrike members you may now begin posting.

Feel free to interact with each other, myself, squadron NPCs, ship NPCs or whatever. You may even use small flashbacks explaining how you got on this ship and part of this squadron - just a suggestion.

If at any point there will be OOC questions regarding the story then ask them either in a PM or on the IRC channel.

For the most part though just relax and have fun. That is the main purpose of such a simple mission after all... Or is it as simple as that? Dun dun dun dun...

The Dead Gun's interior was bleak, lifeless, something Maysie want used to. Coming from her home planet of Kuat, things were much more full of color and vibrance, no matter the amount of Imperial influence. The recently appointed Nightshrike member finally found her quarters after what felt like hours of searching. Upon entering, the Kuati was happy to find that her roommate was also female, and human as well.

"Hey, I'm Senior Chief Petty Officer Rae," the eager and enthusiastic 'shrike member blurted.

"Yeah, I know who y'are. I'm Petty Officer Louisa Marie," snipped the girl. Maysie gave a quick, quizical look at the short, somewhat chubby girl before shrugging the statement away and resuming her order of business.

Almost finished with unpacking, and getting her side of the quarters setup, the comlink located on her belt buzzed. It was her Squadron Commander informing the 'Shrikes of a briefing being held in an hour. The new squadron member turned to ask Louisa where briefing room A-7 was but caught herself as the first word escaped her mouth and turned back around, afraid to upset the other girl.

if this is how she is all the time, its going to be hell in here, Maysie thought to herself.

With all her uniforms and off-duty clothes put away, the Petty Officer took a short side step to the right before leaving her quarters, intent on finding the briefing room alone and on time. She knew it'd be hard enough to fit in as the only female in the squadron, no need to give them anything else to pick on her about.

***

The briefing went as they did in the past.

Same information, different speaker, she told herself as she left the room and headed toward the hanger. It was routine for her to check out the ship she was flying before a flight to refamiliarize herself to the controls and go over her own little pre-flight checklist. Her father had instilled in her that "proper preparation prevented piss poor performance", and it'd always served her right in the past.

As she meandered to the hanger, she realized how many people were onboard the vessel with her. She'd forgotten the sheer amount of work and crewmembers it took to run a ship this size. That was just one of the many things that awed her about the Empire.

Two mechanics rushed passed Finbar "Echelon" Curtin in one of the many hallways of the Dead Gun. They were dressed in the standard Vast Imperial mechanic uniform except these uniforms were stained with oil, grease, and some blue substance Echelon couldn't recongnize. One of the mechanics said something to the other about a gas leak in the reactor level.

Damn. A gas leak. Those are never good.

He assumed that it must not be that dangerous because if it were, the whole ship would be under evacuation, and in the Vast Empire Navy, you'll definitely know when they want you to get off a ship.

He had been transfered to Nightshrike out of Raptor squad after he had graduated the academy. In the academy he recieved and award that few are fortunate enough to recieve: Star of the Academy. This really made him proud, but it didn't matter now. No Star of the Academy would keep him from being blown up. The constant repairs on the Dead Gun didn't annoy him as much as it did others. He watched the mechanics, and he learned something about repairing ships. Such as you never want to touch the tip of a fusion cutter.

I still don't think they've found all of his fingers.

Currently he was going to another repair site to see his mechanic friend. He was going to learn how to wire extremely high voltage power cables.

He put the gas leak out of his mind and continued down the dull, gray, bright hall. Then an officer in a black uniform passed him. Echelon saluted, and the officer stopped.

"You wouldn't happen to be in Nightshrike? Would you? Because they're leaving the ship soon," he said.

Echelon jumped and replied, "I forgot! The briefing was 2 hours ago, but I had my mind busy with other things...like the gas leak in the reactor level."

Then the officer jumped and said, "Flying banthas!!! A gas leak!!! Why didn't you say that earlier!" He then began to run down the hallway at full speed.

Echelon shrugged and said, "Thanks for the reminder." He turned down another dull, gray, bright hallway, entered a dull, gray, bright turbolift, and sped down to the dull, gray, bright flight deck.

Man is this ship bland!

As the doors slid open, he noticed that his squadron had assembled on the other end of the hangar. He ran over past the various TIE vehicles and stood by the group. Someone next to him whispered, "Your late, but don't worry. You haven't missed anything."

The squadron leader continued his speech to the crew saying, "...the glory the Vast Empire provides us with... Move out Shrikes!"

With that he responded, "Yes sir!" and walked over to his Interceptor. He had decided to name her/it Night Fire for no peticular reason, except that it sounded cool.

He boarded Night Fire and turned on the engines. Lights and screens flickered on and he soaked up the vast amount of information. With the comfirmation from the ever so kind flight control he sped off out into the void of space. He accelerated to the formation rendezvous point, and pulled along side the other members in Beta.

I do sure hope that that Star of the Academy award will keep me alive, he thought nevously.

Then one of the members in the squad radioed, "To all you new recruits out there, we'll keep your back. Don't be nervous because everyone's coming home."

Echelon responded, "Thanks, but anything's better than being in that dull, gray, bright ship...right?"

Someone responded, "Yea. That's true. All right Nightshrike! Lets make sure these pirates remember us!"

The Kuati girl climbed into her cockpit, anxious to get moving. As the TIE warmed up, Maysie finished hooking her helmet and life support up. As she sat patiently, she saw the deck hands scurrying about, trying to leave the docking bay before being sucked into space

"Shikes, we're clear to launch..." was heard by the Petty Officer as she eagerly ignited the twin ion engine, causing an eery howl to escape her vessel.

She felt a small jolt as the grappling hooks holding the TIE released,  allowing the fighter to leave the hanger bay. The controls felt unfamiliar to her, but she remembered enough to be dangerous. Alpha 4 pulled up on the stick, flying into position with the rest of the squadron. A few seconds later, and the new-to-Nighthshrike pilot had keyed her navicomputer to sync with the Squadron Commander's.

OOC:

I've got writers block. I'll have to finish this later tonight.

Hyperdrive jumps were always fun whenever they were made in small fighters. Regular pilots didn't after all have many chances to be on a capital's ship command deck whilst such a jump occurred. Come to think of it they didn't really have many chances to go get to the bridge at all. Most orders were relayed either directly through comm devices or through lower ranked and less important bridge officers that always seemed to be running errands to and from various officers found on various decks and parts of the ship. The Onderonian pilot pitied those poor officers. Not only was their job boring and poorly compensated but on top of it all they also had quite a lot of running around to do as well.

Now a pilot on the other hand only had to run towards the hangar and his assigned fighter. Furthermore, once inside the cockpit of said fighter that pilot was able to experience a sense of freedom that few who have never had the opportunity of flying such an agile craft could brag about having experienced. The best part was definitely outmaneuvering and shooting down as many opponents as possible but enjoying the soothing tranquility provided by the many tiny stars becoming an endless tunnel of starlines... well that wasn't too bad either. Unless it took too long that is. After a while even the best things in life slowly become boring and no longer impressive. Thankfully the jump to Kooda system would only last three or so hours - plenty of time to just kick back, relax and enjoy the ride there...

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

Two hours fifty three minutes later the hyperspace tunnel was closing and Nightshrike squadron found itself back in normal space. A rather cramped space though, given the various asteroids belts that could be seen in the distance.

And to think those are the asteroids we're supposed to check out...

Seth sighed heavily, perhaps by doing so also trying to brace himself for the no doubt boring and frustrating task at hand. His only hope was to either find those pirates fast or on the contrary find some sings to indicate that they no longer operated in the particular sector. Either way worked fine for Nightshrike's commander. He'd either end up dogfigthing using the asteroids to his advantage - something he was fairly used to doing, or on the contrary he'd jump back to the Dead Gun and report that particular sector clear. After all this was supposed to be a simple and short term recon mission. They weren't properly equipped to scan throughout the whole system - a task that would've taken them days if not weeks.

"Alright Shrikes we're here. Our job is to venture into those asteroid fields and scan for any signs of other ships and who knows, maybe even small installations. We'll need to break formation to have any chance of navigating through but i want everyone to still try and stick close together however. Watch out for the asteroids but also watch out for possible automated defenses and any powered down crafts just waiting to spring a good trap. Make sure your shields are maxed and also make sure your scanners are tuned as finely as possible. Oh and do try keeping the idle chatter to a minimum as well - t'was fine whilst it couldn't be intercepted but now things may have changed however..."

That may even have been true for all he knew. Truth was however that he was just a little cranky that he couldn't get any more rest because of everyone chatting amongst themselves. He thought about turning the comm off, but then he realized that maybe - just maybe - someone might need him for whatever reason. A poor decision as it turned out, considering he only provided his squadron with a few witty replies concerning mundane and mostly non-mission specific topics. Ah well, at least by listening in he got to know some of the new transfers a little better. He already read their files and thus knew some things about them but then again a military file would never be able to provide a reader with some proper insight regarding true personality, way of thinking, personal values and other similar things.

For that matter this would actually be the first time Seth would be able to see some of the newly assigned Shrike members' flight capabilities. And what better way to test those out than in an asteroid field, with tiny or not so tiny chunks of rock floating all over the place...

OOC:

Nothing will happen this round either. Feel free to describe the jump, any useless (at least in the greater scheme of things) chatter, traveling to the asteroid field, readying to enter it and then avoiding asteroids and scanning blindly. You're also free to do some CD of your own of course.

Ah yes, make sure to also check out the squadron topic for a post containing a few more or less important notes.

Senior Crewman Sage Kalas, more commonly and affectionately known as Speed, had only just been transferred to Nightshrike Squadron, stationed aboard the Dead Gun. Almost immediately after reporting in the squadron was called into the briefing for their current objectives. She'd listened quietly from the back of the group. What she didn't see or hear she reviewed on her data pad.

For the two hours before they made the jump to this gods forsaken rock field, she'd been in the hangar re-familiarizing herself with the controls of one of her favorite fighters in the galaxy. The controls had responded to her touch filling her with a sense of being welcomed home by an old friend.

On the jump to their current position, Speed had let the beautiful backdrop of light-speed lull her into a calm that she'd very rarely ever felt in her life. Not for the first time had she found it comforting to be back in the structure of a squadron and not running from the price on her head. A price she had her father to thank for. A father she had every right in the galaxy to loathe, but she could not deny that he was her father.

The reversion to real space was what had shaken her out of her thoughts. In time for her to take in the asteroid field before her, and for her to quickly quash the fear rising in her gullet. Speed had barely escaped that last bounty hunter through an asteroid field, and had nearly lost her life doing it. She wasn't by any means afraid of death, she was Corellian. Sage was more afraid of leaving this life having not accomplished anything worthy of showing that she had lived.

She closed her eyes for a moment before, "Beta four here, all systems go."

She was confirmed by the flight leader and she took a few deep breaths before turning her attention to the fields. She maxed out her shields and tuned her sensors as finely as possible as ordered by the squadron commander. Then she returned her attention to the fields again.

"Doesn't look so bad." She said quietly to herself. Although she'd flown at break neck speeds through asteroid fields didn't mean she wanted to be doing it again anytime soon. Perhaps it was the unknown elements that frightened her. She hated flying under such circumstances, but there was little she could do about it now. She throttled forward with the rest of Beta Flight and eased into the asteroid field nearest them.

She focused on her sensors and her gut, her breathing calm and steady for the time being. Keeping a steady pace completely out of her normal character, Speed kept her mind on the task at hand. Slow was not something she did well, but she understood why slow was needed now. Sage did not want to miss something in her hurry to get out of the field and she was aware that this was going to be one of the more tedious things she'd ever done. She longed for a fight in open space where she could truly shine, where she could be free. Right now she felt more than just trapped in a durasteel cage. It was not a feeling she enjoyed.

Just breath, Sage. You know you're a good pilot. Just take it easy. Speed thought to herself as she continued forward.

OOC:

Whew first post in awhile and shorter than what I was expecting at 546 words.

Fyston sighed slightly as he felt the rumble of the hyperdrive as it propelled him into the long tunnel that he was still slightly unfamiliar with. Although he knew he was safe within the confines of his fighter, the thought of technological breakdowns and catastrophic failure that would kill him or the rest of the squadron kept him from moving an inch the first half hour. When his chrono reached thirty one minutes and twenty seven seconds, Fyston decided that his boredom was worse than any explosion.

He unhooked his crash webbing, keeping it over his shoulders for faster access when they reached the system and stretched out, resting his head on the seat back. He was looking forward to his first actual mission, though thoughts of failure and brilliant explosions kept forcing themselves into his mind, and a vast multitude of scenarios played right in front of his eyes. Although he didn't know anyone in the squadron on any level other than squadron mates, and wasn't particularly caring what happened to the others, he knew he would feel responsible should one of them be injured or killed.

Stop. Now. Don't be thinking those thoughts, lest they happen. Remember what happened on Iridonia?

Fyston had to search for the memory through many years of unrelated nonsense, including a stupid cliff scaling for the sake of then-treasured loyalty and friendship. Fyston felt a small pang of homesickness, though closed his eyes to allow the memory to be brought in the focus. In order to prevent sleep, he jammed a ration pack into his leg.

_______________________________________________________________

The pair of boys ran along, their feet pounding hard on the ground as they played, imagining themselves as warriors rushing to defend a checkpoint. They had stick weapons and used hollow out rocks for helmets. Their vestigal horns had not begun to grow, as they were only six or seven. They pretended like they had a number of troops behind them while they ran, trying to make it as realistic as possible. They reached a trench that had been dug by years of erosion. They jumped in and slammed their backs into the front of the trench, keeping their heads down.

"Sergeant Fyston!"

"Yes, captain?"

"They're flanking us on the right, and the squad's falling back! Go reinforce the right with gamma squad."

"Yes sir! Follow me gamma, we're getting the job done."

Fyston took off down the trench, keeping his head down as he pointed his "blaster" in front of him, as if readying himself for battle. The pair pretended that they were under a storm of blasterfire and were pinned down, only able to fire over their cover. They were facing a much tougher, larger, and better equipped enemy. Fyston turned around as he pretended that one of his men dropped.

"CORPORAL!"

"I'm good Sarge. They may have gotten me, but gamma squad will take 'em down."

"MEDIC! MEDIC! You're gonna be okay, stay with me. STAY WITH ME!"

"Sarge, give my son this."

Fyston had been sucked fully into his imagination and imagined the dying Zabrak handed him a holorecording. Blasterfire was raining down upon them, and Fyston somberly closed the dead man's eyes. The enemy were attacking from a higher cliff, rappelling down using durable rope, relying on a heavy volume of fire to prevent casualties. Fyston raised his comlink and opened a channel to his friend.

"Captain! We've got to scale that cliff! If we don't we'll be overrun before tonight."

"Alright, I'm sending Frag squad and Vega squad to your position with climbing equipment. I'm coming as well."

"Alright, we'll secure a landing position. Gamma squad, COVERING FIRE."

"YES SIR! YOU HEARD THE SARGE!"

The squad of troops raised their heads slightly above the trench line and opened fire with their blasters, aiming at the enemy on the cliffs to cut down their suppressive fire ability. A couple of his men dropped, but Fyston continued to pour fire at the visible machine gun nests. The guns stopped, though Fyston knew they were still active.

"Alright, sergeant, let's climb this cliff!"

"Sir, those machine guns are still active!"

"You got them, we're going up."

"WE'RE GOING TO DIE IF WE CLIMB NOW!"

"Disobeying a direct order?"

"No sir."

They arranged their climbing equipment: blaster fired grappling hooks. In reality it was simple rope, woven like any other. It was old, and so it was slightly frayed in parts. They had two, one for each boy. They rushed up to the cliff and fired up their blaster cables. Before they began playing, they had tied up two ropes to help them remain in their playful world. Both leaders began climbing in front of their men, inspiring them to climb faster.

"Sir, I'm telling you. We need to take out those guns first. We're going to die!"

"Forget it, sergeant. They're done, you can sit back in the trench if you'd like, but expect harsh consequences later."

Halfway up the tall cliff, Fyston was too ingrained in the scenario to realize their frayed ropes had too much stress on them. Fyston saw blaster fire from the guns that had silenced themselves earlier. A lucky shot cleaved the captain's climbing equipment, and his eyes went wide. He tried to grab onto Fyston, who had swung over to help him. It was too late, and his fall began to accelerate. He hit the ground with a thud, and Fyston loosened his rope and began to slide down, stopping only when he hit the ground with bent knees.

"Axon! Axon!"

Fyston noticed the blood coming from his friend's nose and removed his helmet. There was some form of goo on the back of the helmet, and Axon's eyes had a glazed, blank stare. Fyston noticed blood pooling under his head, and lifted his friend's head to try to staunch the bleeding.

Come on Axon. Wait, what's this goo? This is the same stuff that was on his helmet.

Fyston felt a sharp pain in his finger and rolled his friend over. He noticed a portion of skull protruding from the open skin, and his eyes went wide. He slipped the rock helmet back over his friend's head and wrapped his arms under his friend's shoulders. He began dragging his friend back to his home, where his mother was a nurse.

Maybe if I hadn't said we'd die from the blasters, he'd be alright. Mom can take care of him.

_______________________________________________________________

Fyston was snapped back to reality as his chrono beeped that they were exiting hyperspace. He hurriedly hooked his crash webbing back together, removed the ration pack from it's area near his leg, and sat up completely straight. The blue tunnel of hyperspace collapsed back into pinpricks of light from distant stars. Fyston knew he was supposed to keep idle chatter to a minimum, so he thought what he wanted to say, and then some.

We'll all be fine, we're trained. The only thing they've got on us is the asteroids. Granted I've never flown in asteroids before, we're going to be fine. Drinks are on me after this.

Fyston heard his CO proclaim that checkpoint one was clear, and proceeded with them to checkpoint two. When he began closing the distance and was close, his sensors began detecting faint blips. Fyston announced to the onboard computer to rerun the scan, which produced the same results.

I'll do it manually, maybe it's the computer's fault.

Fyston pressed a number of buttons and reran the results three times, all of which produced the same results. Unaware of what it could be, he tried to keep the anxiety from his voice.

"This is 6, and I've either got weird beeps or mechanical failure. Requesting permission to investigate."

OOC:

Sorry for the delay, wanted to include a bit of CD but couldn't post this for some reason. If this works, I apologize for the delay. If not, you won't be seeing this. WC=1290

Seth kept silent as he maneuvered through some more asteroids, making sure to keep an eye out for his scanning equipment all the while. He also kept track of the blip representing his own Interceptor getting closer and closer to the second waypoint that intel classified as another likely hot spot.

He must've still had two minutes or so before reaching that waypoint when a foreign faint blip briefly showed up and disappeared almost immediately after somewhere ahead. The Master Chief was still wondering if it could've just been his imagination when chatter over the comm confirmed he had not in fact been the only one witnessing that.

"Alright... Gamma flight will stay behind and await further instructions. Aria, be ready to fly in, cover our exit or retreat and report our disappearance - no way of knowing what's out there."

"Roger that, chief."

"Stewart, i want you to take Beta flight and plot a course straight towards the anomaly, bearing 32 degrees."

"Acknowledged."

"Alright, then Alpha flight and myself will flank from the side in case there'll be trouble. Move out people!"

A series of confirmations was heard over the comm and eight of the twelve Interceptors began moving once again...

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

"Krayt Three to Krayt Leader - pirate ships are 80% wiped out. Pirate station personnel has also surrendered. We lost two fighters and one member of the boarding party. Operation estimated to finish within acceptable parameters. Over."

"Copy that. Finish off the remaining nuisances, retrieve the data we came for and overload the station's reactor. Over."

"Krayt Six to Krayt Leader. I have approaching contacts on radar. Over."

"Reinforcements?"

"Negative. Transponder codes match Vast Empire signatures. Sir, they're Remnant forces. Please advise, over."

"Our mission was to retrieve pirate databanks so that the client may analyze them. We were told to leave no witnesses but at the same time were told to also engage only pirates and local military should they interfere. Involvement of a third party was unexpected. Damn..."

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

"This is Stewart, I'm getting multiple contacts on my scanner. Sir, looks like they're fighting each other..."

Fighting each other?

"Mayday! Mayday! To all incoming ships - help us and you'll be amply rewa-"

The transmission suddenly cut off as yet another fighter blew up. Instinctively Seth tried getting a missile lock on its attacker. He was about done too when another voice came over teh comm:

"Attention Remnant forces! This is a privately funded operation targeted against these pirates. Should you attempt to interfere in any way we will have no choice but to consider you pirates yourselves and as a result shoot you all down."

As much as the Onderonian hated to be looked down upon and even threatened a quick survey of the area told him his chances were indeed not great. For one thing the enemy force was using StarVipers, which were fairly good fighters. Then there were also the durasteel remains floating about - a testament to the destruction of quite a few pirates already. Fighting skilled pilots - mercenaries by the sound of it - in such circumstances wasn't exactly a smart move. Even if he could win it was unlikely he'd do so without taking a few casualties on the way.

"Stand down Shrikes..."

"But sir, we can take them", said one of the newer transfers. Seth smiled hearing this. It was nice to have such enthusiastic fellows around but he knew that such enthusiasm without being backed by realism could prove quite dangerous - to everyone involved.

"Our mission was to conduct recon and we have done that. Copy the codes of these fighters and have VEI analyze them when we return."

Who knows, maybe we'll get a chance to meet these guys again someday and maybe that time the tables will be reversed.

Transferring most of the power to shields Seth slowly turned around and began heading back to where Gamma flight was still stationed at. On his way he made sure to save as many transponder codes as he could get, including that of the shuttle that was at the time still docked with the station. No telling whether VEI would find this information useful or not however...

OOC:

Right so i'm ending this a little quicker than anticipated given the fact we have another story in which we can post and the fact many of our members have taken sudden leaves of absence. As mentioned in my previous post you're free to also RP as dying pirates or mysterious StarViper pilots killing off those pirates. Feel free to also describe small skirmishes where you try and shoot down enemies or they're trying to shoot you down. Just remember that the mysterious guys are fairly skilled, their fighters fairly decent and the fact you'd need to stop after being ordered so. I'll likely make a final post in a few days to properly finish the story and tie off any loose ends.