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Topic:  Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Drac
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Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Commander
 
Post Number:  1305
Total Posts:  2191
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  Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
May 18, 2011 12:40:09 AM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Chapter 1: To the Victor…


[Location: 2nd Fleet Headquarters, Belgaroth Shipyards]
[Time: Three Galactic Standard Weeks after the Battle of Belgaroth]

Commander Dracule Mihawk took one last inventory of his two bags, then zipped both of the soft-shelled cargo bags closed and set them aboard the hover-trolley floating beside his bed.  Then, standing, the Mon Calamari officer swept his bulbous eyes around the suite. A miniscule shake of his head betrayed his unsettled reaction as he thought to himself, ‘This is a far cry from the squadron barracks- that’s for sure. I’ve bunked in a room a quarter the size of this place with eight other pilots in there with me. There’s hardly a comparison between the two. But, then, there’s hardly any comparison between my station then and now, as strange a thought as that is.’ Tilting his head to the left, he looked down at the Commander’s rank cylinder on the left side of his chest, still unscuffed in its newness. It had arrived on a transport the week before, a tiny item amongst the vast quantities of material being brought in to furnish 2nd Fleet’s new home base. The materials’ presence, and that of the transport that brought them, was due completely to the most recent victory the Vast Empire had claimed when 2nd Fleet took the system two weeks before their arrival. Drac cast his mind back to the day…

-----
[Location: Belgaroth Shipyards (Newly captured.)]
[Time: Three hours after the end of the Battle of Belgaroth.]

The holoprojecter whirred to life and a life-sized image of Admiral Stormz appeared in a flurry of swooping holographic sparks. Drac saluted crisply, waiting until it was returned before speaking, “Lieutenant Mihawk reporting from Belgaroth, Admiral.”

The wookiee replied in his usual chorus of Shyriiwook barks and growls, “[Then I am to assume you and 2nd Fleet were successful in taking the system?]”

“Yes, Admiral. As we speak the Marines are securing the last sections of the shipyards, with the lightest of resistance. Shuttles are still pulling EV pilots in out of vacuum, while any ships with only light to moderate damage have begun patrolling the system. I am currently speaking to you from the bridge of the Halcyon Warrior.”

The shaggy mammal frowned as he replied, “[It is hardly necessary to tell me exactly where you are, Drac, unless you mean to indicate that you lost the Dead Gun…but wait. What ship is the Halcyon Warrior? The Vast Imperial Navy does not currently own any such ship.]” The wook’s voice was gruff, as if expecting bad news.

“The Dead Gun is fine, Stormz…well, I take that back. She’s a bit worse for the wear, but nothing a few weeks in the yards won’t fix.”

“[Then why are you on this mystery ship?]”

Drac fought it, but was unable to hold back the smile breaking out across his face, “I’ll be more clear, then. I am currently speaking to you from the bridge of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Halcyon Warrior, formerly the Skyhawk and just as formerly of the New Republic Navy.” The Mon Cal’s grin widened as the wookiee’s eyebrows shot up. “She was in for repairs when we arrived and, after an interesting time, we managed to tame her. She’s…a bit more roughed up than the Gun is, but I was hoping you’d let me keep her, Admiral.” He cast a hopeful glance at his superior.

The surprised wookiee was silent for a moment, still considering the news, then spoke again, laughter in his voice, “[Impertinent fish. I approve your rather risky plan to steal a few smaller craft and you decide to capture a heavyweight capital ship instead.”

“Oh, we got the little ones too, sir. No worries there.”

Stormz chuffed out another chuckle, “[You would. Yes, Drac, you may keep her. Be sure to put her to good use, Commander Mihawk.]”

Drac narrowed his eyes at the Naval Commander in Chief, “Thank you, sir, on both counts…but why is it that I get the feeling that you plan on making me engage in even more of this insanity for every pip you’re adding to my rank cylinder?”

“[That would be because you know me, Drac.]” The wookiee grinned, a rather scary sight, and continued, “[Of course, you’ve long known that the reward for work well done is more work when I’m around. No good deed goes unpunished, my friend.]”

“Don’t I know it.” Drac rolled his eyes.

“[And well you should. Also, once you’ve got things settled there, take a week or two of shore Leave.]”

“But, Stormz…”

The wookiee interrupted, holding up a paw, “[No. You’d work yourself to death if you could, and I won’t have it. Take a few weeks off, get some recreation under your belt, and be ready to continue dismantling enemy navies when you return.]”

“…Yes, Admiral.”

-----
[Back in the present]

Drac strode down the corridor, nodding to a few sailors as he walked past. Before leaving his suite he’d turned his rank cylinder so that the face was hidden- a traditional method of announcing to passers-by that he was off-duty and no salutes were necessary. Some still saluted anyway, and those he returned in kind, but for the most part he simply exchanged greetings and perhaps a few words.

Arriving in a relatively empty area of the station, Mihawk reached behind himself and snagged the datapad from atop the hover-trolley. It had been programmed to follow along a few feet behind him, so the pad was within easy reach. Booting it up, the young officer checked the status on a few things, noting personnel Leave files, flight schedules, and a few resorts and other attractions. When he’d found all the data he wanted he nodded, switched the datapad off, and tossed it back onto the hover-trolley.

He slowed as he approached the hatch leading to his personal hangar, something he still wasn’t quite used to or comfortable with, and returned the salutes of the men standing there. “Lieutenant Gorma. Captains Ongol and Ludwig. Thank you for meeting me. I’ll be brief, since all of you have duties to attend to and I have a window to hit. Each of you has my emergency contact information should something come up. Lieutenant Gorma is nominally in command during my absence. Ensure that our patrols and scouting parties are well managed and oversee the repairs to our ships of the line and we’ll pick things back up when I return. Any questions?”

There were none, so with another exchange of salutes the officers left and Drac scanned his security card and stepped into the hangar. Once inside he strode over to the single craft currently occupying a space sized for up to a squadron of starfighters. Its lines were sleek, with the deadly aura of a predator. Two mechanics bustled about, doing last-minute checks as Drac opened a belly hatch and stowed his bags into the cargo hold of his personal and most favored starfighter: the E-wing he’d named Krakana. She was a superb craft, even for something created by the Reshies. More than equal to an Interceptor, a little past par against an Avenger, and still a threat to a Defender, the E-wing was a versatile, tough, and well-armed platform for ruining your enemies’ whole day. A year or two back when Slasher gave it to him he’d worried about getting in trouble for owning a Reshie starfighter. Now rank and reputation ensured it’d be no problem.

Drac did a thorough pre-flight checkout of the craft, nodding to himself as he became satisfied that it was in as close to new condition as it could be. Then, rather than climbing into the cockpit, he turned and stepped into the small office set aside for him in the corner of the hangar. Closing the door behind himself, the Mon Cal walked around the simple desk he’d scrounged from a squadron commander who was transferring to another duty station. He opened a wardrobe set against the wall and removed a flightsuit. He’d kept it after transferring out of Starfighter Command and now the clean, if scuffed up, flightsuit served in a less official capacity. Still, he’d attached two patches to the left shoulder: the squadron patches for Nazgul Squadron and Tuk’ata Squadron. Smiling, he fingered the patches and then suited up.

Seating himself, Drac warmed up the holoprojector sitting atop the desk and logged himself into the shipyards’ mainframe. Through that he connected to the heavily secured main Naval Database and navigated to the Personnel Leave module he’d visited briefly on his walk to the hangar. Once there he called up a report that had been sent in the last few minutes.

An older,  heavyset Gran saluted as he appeared on the holoprojector, then spoke, “This is Chief Medical Officer Yopperl reporting on scheduled Personnel Leave times beginning in the next seven day cycle…” The Gran consulted a datapad held before him, then began to rattle off the ranks, names, and lengths of Leave of those who had been given Leave beginning in that period. Toward the end Drac began to listen more carefully, and began typing on his datapad when the alien read off, “Petty Officer 1st Class Kora Weasse, two weeks Leave to begin on Abrae at Naval Headquarters.” Then the Mon Cal shut off the report with a smile, picked up the datapad, and left the office. He gave the mechanics one last nod of thanks, tucked the datapad into a pocket on his flightsuit, and began to climb the ladder into the Krakana’s cockpit.

OOC:
Word Count: 1599

And now the fun begins.
CNW/CDR Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Chief of Naval Warfare
"Think Akbar, but Imperial."
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Drac
ComNet Marshal
 
Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Commander
 
Post Number:  1347
Total Posts:  2191
Joined:  Jan 2009
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  RE: Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
May 26, 2011 8:23:20 AM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Chapter 2: You Cheated!


[Location: Abrae]

“E-Wing VEN-1483-4, this is Abrae Flight Control. Set your beacon to frequency 44A-E5Q and follow it all the way in.” A calm, professional male voice piped up on the standard Vast Imperial spaceflight control comm channel.

“Control, E-Wing. I read you. Resetting frequency now.”

Another voice broke in, this one female, in a friendly but businesslike tone, “This is Master Chief Zipper, leader of Beta Flight of Wild Krayt squadron. Welcome back to Abrae, Commander Mihawk. We’re inbound from your three o’clock, ETA thirty seconds. Wait one and we’ll take you all the way down to the surface.”

Drac smiled and replied, bringing up the four inbound TIE Interceptors on his sensors, “Much obliged, Master Chief. Lead the way.”

“My pleasure, sir. But can you keep up in that misbegotten pile of bolts the Reshies put together? We can go slow if you need to.”

Feeling his smile widen into a smirk only his friends might ever see, the Mon Cal returned the taunt, “Not at all, Krayt Five. In fact, I daresay this particular pile of bolts can run circles around your collection of solar mirrors and hull tape.”

A chuckle echoed back over the frequency, “We’ll just see about that, sir. Care for a run through the trenches?”

A third voice, a gravelly bass, interrupted, “Zip, this is Leader. What are you doing? We’re here to patrol a sector, not mess with superior officers!”

Drac spoke up, “No worries, Krayt Leader. I’ll only distract your pilots for a few minutes while I teach them how to fly. If anything comes into the system, well, I guess you’ll have a thirteenth Krayt for a while.”

A chuckle preceded the man’s reply and Drac could almost hear him shrug, “You do that, sir. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Pushing his stick forward, Drac nosed the Krakana into a steeper re-entry, heading for a five kilometer canyon that sprawled across the moon a dozen kilometers from the edge of Naval Headquarters. He briefly considered sending the flight of Interceptors back anyway, ‘I should…after all, they’re on duty and I’m just doing this for the joy of flying. But...it shouldn’t be that big a deal. This’s Abrae, after all. You’d be nuts to attack it without preliminary battles.

Thirty seconds later the re-entry flames died off and his shields cleared. Two seconds later the dark skinned amphibian grinned, rubbed the Nazgul insignia on his shoulder, and punched the throttle, sending his craft hurtling toward the entrance to the canyon. Startled exclamations rang out over the comm channel and he overheard Krayt Five’s complaint, “Hey, that’s cheating! Get after him!” The Interceptors ran up to speed a moment later in hot pursuit.

Smiling again, Drac spoke into the comm., “Krayt Five, you going to tell the guy who shoots you down that he cheated?”

“…No, sir.” She replied, her voice still resentful.

“I thought not. Remember: Don’t be cruel or without honor, but if there’s a dirty tactic to be used be kriffing sure you use it first. Otherwise you’ll be dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Engines roaring, the E-wing flashed into the mouth of the canyon with all four Interceptors hot on its tail and only thirty meters behind. The first half kilometer of the canyon was pretty much a straight shot, the steep walls ranging from forty to eighty meters high and around thirty meters apart. Quickly adjusting some dials, Drac dialed down the power going to his guns and shields, poured everything into the engines, and began to extend his lead considerably. The Krayts mirrored his tactics a moment later, but even then the modified TIEs couldn’t keep themselves from slowly falling behind and the Mon Cal’s lead had extended to a hundred meters by the time the straight-shot ended.

The next kilometer of the canyon was all twists and turns and switchbacks, forcing Drac to ease off the engines and put some power to the repulsor lifts. It was a dangerous if shrewd tactic. If he came at a wall too fast or got bounced off something unexpectedly, he could easily smash against the canyon wall. So long as he didn’t do that, however, he could use the repulsors to bounce off the canyon walls at each turn. It’d allow him to retain a crucial bit of speed. Only once did it fail him, and that at a point where a tributary joined the main canyon and created a Y-intersection. An extra pump on the throttle goosed him on past that with a spare meter or less separating his wing from the jagged wall.

That wasn’t quite enough, though. The Interceptors took advantage of their renowned agility and whipped through the turns and breaks in quick succession. Drac was banking hard into a turn to starboard, his repulsors keeping him off the wall, when movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Looking up he beheld the lead Interceptor as it surged past him. When they straightened out for a brief moment before heading into the next turn the pilot waggled their wings at him in a jaunty, if mocking, salute. The fish’s only reply was a low growl and an extra tap on the throttle as he sped in pursuit.

All four Interceptors passed Drac in quick succession during that section, disappearing completely from his sight by the time he’d come to the turn before the next straightaway. When he came around it, though, he poured on the power. This stretch was at least a kilometer long and straight as a laser, all to his advantage. Even better, the Interceptors’ lead was only fifty meters, though the twisted section had made it appear longer.

It took him almost eighty percent of the straightaway, but Drac passed the TIEs and built himself a new lead. Three times he had to swerve and dodge around thick pillars of rock that thrust up from the canyon floor. Several rock shelves and ledges also menaced the path and were avoided in their turn. As he came up on the next section of breaks his eyes narrowed at the challenge the first turn presented. Slightly sharper than ninety degrees, the top half of the turn was blocked by a bridge of rock, forming a wide tunnel for the duration of the turn. It’d take some fancy flying to keep his E-wing off the jagged rocks of the canyon floor and walls. ‘This I can handle,’ Drac thought to himself as he slowed on his approach.

Moments later he was braking hard and slewing his aft around to starboard as the Krakana rolled onto its port wing to make the hard turn to port. He shot through the gap, bouncing hard off the corner and almost slamming into the opposite wall. Then the canyon blew up and Drac’s chest slammed into the stick as damage alarms began to wail and acrid smoke swirled through his cockpit. In the instant before the explosion he’d noted the clear airspace above his craft and the relatively low walls of the canyon in that spot. Acting on instinct, the Mon Cal whipped his starfighter into a double vertical roll that brought him up and over the lip of the canyon at an angle to his previous course. Silencing the alarms, he sputtered, “What happened? Did someone hit the wall?”

Bright lasers flashed by in reply, one scoring the port side of his fuselage and blackening a streak on the canopy. Cursing, he broke hard to that side and was pleased to see the next brace of ardent bolts flash past harmlessly. Drac’s left hand flashed out and diverted power to his shields, concentrating them in the rear. Then a voice came over the comms and he tentatively identified the speaker as a Human male, though the voice was contorted in anger, “Hold still and die, vermin, if you have any honor at all. This is your just reward for believing yourself worthy to command humans!”

A missile lock warning tone stuttered through the cockpit and Drac ardently wished he’d had an astromech tag along rather than just rely on a preprogrammed course for the hyperspace jump. It would have been handy. Breaking in the opposite direction of his last dodge, he threw his damaged ship into a hard immelman and hoped the assassin in the Interceptor was as bad a shot with a seeking missile as he was with the dumb fired one he’d used first.

The evasion maneuver did its job and Drac watched the missile arc past him and begin to come around, its speed extending the loop. Then another explosion sounded behind him and he glanced at his sensors. Three Interceptor silhouettes stuttered on the screen. ‘Did he kill one of the others?’ Then Krayt Five’s voice came over the comms, warped by a harsh mixture of grief and anger, “One cheater vaped, Commander Mihawk. Sorry I didn’t get the bastard sooner.”

Drac’s eyes still tracked the final missile as he kept his ship low to the surface of Abrae. When it came into proximity, he turned his repulsors on again at full power and suddenly bounced fifty meters into the air. The missile passed below his smoking craft and detonated as it slammed into the moon. Only then did he reply, “Don’t worry about it, Five. You learned my lesson well and got him- that’s what counts. And thanks, by the way, I couldn’t have dodged him much longer.”

Alarm entered the mixture, “Sir? What do you mean?” Her voice was fading…

Sighing, Drac replied, “That first missile put a beating on my starboard engines and,” he paused to listen to the hiss, “one of his lasers breached my canopy. I’m not wounded, but my engines are failing…as are my repulsors, comms, and life support. Call Abrae control for me and get a shuttle out here. She won’t make it another kilometer…looks like I’m going down.” As if to match his words, Krakana shuddered hard and a constant vibration introduced itself to the stick. Pushing the stick forward with both hands, the Mon Cal eased the dying E-wing toward the desolate surface of the moon. He listened and a brief burst of static made him think Krayt Five had replied, but then comms died completely and the only sounds that remained to Drac were his own heavy breathing and the hiss of air escaping from the crack in his canopy.

Alright, then,’ Drac thought to himself, ‘I can do this. Maybe I didn’t get to show the Krayt’s how to fly, but I can certainly show them how to crash-land.’ Taking his hands from the still-vibrating stick for a moment, he flexed them then settled the right one back into a solid grip. Nosing the ship a little further forward, he increased the rate of descent. It wasn’t the greatest thing to do in order to survive, but his engines were threatening to go at any moment, which might be fatal at this altitude.

Meanwhile the Mon Calamari kept his left hand busy too. He began jettisoning fuel from his tanks with a flick of a switch, then moved on to lock down the systems that were already gone. Some of those still posed a threat during a hard landing. First he drained everything from his weapons systems, all of which had been knocked out by a power surge when his engine was breached and the anti-surge equipment destroyed. Next he toggled off the repulsor jets that would have propelled his pilot’s chair in the ejection had that system not been fried as well. He deactivated half a dozen other systems as his altitude steadily declined and then, finally, set his engines to standby. Their stuttering glow dimmed as they ceased propelling the wounded starfighter and remained on only to power the repulsor lift coils.

Drac watched the pale, rocky surface of Abrae get closer through the front of his canopy and pulled back hard on the stick a few moments before impact. The Krakana leveled out, her repulsors flaring…and then, ten meters from the surface, they flickered thrice and died. A veteran pilot, Drac felt it the moment the stick died. He toggled one last switch, killing the engines, and then relaxed into his harness. ‘No more I can do. Just have to wait for the impact…kriffing vacation’s going to be the death of me.

The E-wing, now dark and completely without power, nosed over once again in the last moment before impact. When it hit the bow gored a deepening trench in the loose, gravelly soil of the barren moon before sticking as it buried itself almost to the canopy. Drac was thrown forward against his restraints as the craft shuddered to a halt with a soft shriek of metallic stress. The hiss of escaping atmosphere got louder suddenly, the crack in the port side of the canopy spidering out another inch or so.

Once he’d assured himself that the ship wasn’t going to detonate and that he remained unhurt, Drac reached under the seat and tugged out a small case. He opened it quickly and removed a roll of thick tape that sat inside amongst other small items. Grunting with the effort, he unrolled a length of it about ten centimeters longer than the crack. Another grunt of effort and he succeeded in ripping the section off. Then, careful not to snag the highly adhesive material on itself, he lined it up with the crack and smoothed it down with a single swift motion. The hissing stopped. ‘Good. Now I won’t die of cold once all the air’s gone and, with any luck, asphyxiation will have to await another day as well.’ Only then did he noticed how his hands shook from the aftereffects of released adrenaline.

Twisting his head awkwardly against the angle his cockpit rested at, Drac looked into Abrae’s sky. Two Interceptors circled by swiftly, shields glowing and sparking when they came in contact with the small dust cloud he’d kicked up. The third descended slowly in front of him using repulsor lifts only. He watched as it jetted forward gently and came to a stop mere meters from the place where his ship rested. The viewport depolarized and he could make out the pilot sitting in the craft’s command chair. From her physiology, he guessed it to be Krayt Five. She held out a hand, thumb out, and pointed it first down and then up.

“Ah. Sign language. That works, I guess,” Drac muttered to himself. He held out a hand, thumb up. Five nodded and matched the motion. Then she gestured toward Naval Headquarters, telling him to look. He did, and was gratified to see the small, faint silhouette of a shuttle rising above the city and beginning to grow larger. Around it he noticed many smaller dots swarming. It took a moment for him to realize they were starfighters rushing toward him and then his mouth opened in surprise, “Wow. There’s got to be three or four squadrons there. Makes me feel better in case Human-centrist Bigot back there was working with someone else…if he was, they’re going to be fifteen different kinds of sorry before I’m done with them.” Drac chuckled quietly, “And at least thirty different kinds once Stormz has finished expressing his displeasure.”

Minutes later the shuttle arrived. Drac unstrapped himself, activated his personal MagCon field, and triggered the manual release on the canopy. Then he shoved it open, using the seat for leverage in the low-G environment, and jumped free of the ship. He reached the apex of his jump two meters later and began to fall back, then stopped. The shuttle had locked on with its tractor beam. It began to pull him in and the Mon Cal faced the nearing airlock gratefully. MagCon fields might keep air trapped around your body, but they didn’t do much for heat. The cold was already eating at him.

It took the shuttle only seconds to pull him into the airlock. The doors closed and it cycled quickly. Then interior doors whooshed open as Drac disengaged the MagCon field. The moment the way was clear several medical officers rushed in. The first two immediately began asking questions and looking him over, but Drac ignored them for a moment and smiled at the third as he removed his helmet, “Ms. Weasse. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Amusement overrode the other Mon Cal’s concern for a moment and she shook her head, “Do death and destruction always follow in your wake, Commander? I’ve yet to see anything else happen around you.”

OOC:
Word Count: 2,768
FC/CDR Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Chief of Naval Warfare
CNW|Commander Drac|NHC|VEN|VE
"Think Akbar, but Imperial."
Drac
ComNet Marshal
 
Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Commander
 
Post Number:  1351
Total Posts:  2191
Joined:  Jan 2009
Status:  Offline
  RE: Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
May 26, 2011 5:05:55 PM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Chapter 3: Grounded


Drac eventually let the medical officers check him over, knowing that even though he was fine they’d never let him alone until they were sure of it too. As they scanned his body, he glanced out the viewport. The shuttle was moving back toward the city, its escort surrounding it. Every few seconds another wing pair of Interceptors or even pairs of Avengers would whip by at a different angle. Drac whistled to himself, ‘Attacking an NHC member sure stirs up one hell of a hornet’s nest.

Once the docs were sure he was in fine health, Kora escorted Drac to the small holo-projector the shuttle was equipped with. It activated and Admiral Krazanr’s face appeared. Drac was unsurprised to see the wookiee’s teeth slightly bared and his manner agitated. For all of that, the wookiee’s voice was strictly moderated when he spoke, “[You arrre unharmed?]”

“I am.”

“[Yourr attacker?]”

“Free-floating atoms.”

“[Did he have compatrriots?]”

“I don’t think so. It’s worth investigating, but I got the impression he was just another old-school-Imp bigot. Human supremacist. You know the type.”

“[Indeed…I’m glad you’re unhurrt. We’ve lost too many good officerrrs of late to be losing another. Is therre anything else you feel must be done about this?]”

Drac thought for a moment, then nodded and replied, “Yes. The investigation needs to happen, of course, but I’d also like to get the Krakana recovered and repaired. Crash landing though it was, I set her down pretty easy all things considered. She should be able to fly again.”

“[I’ll have someone see to her repairs.]”

“Thank you, sir. One more question?”

“[Go ahead.]”

“Can I go back on duty? This kriffing vacation has already almost killed me and it hasn’t even been a full day yet.”

The wookiee chuffed with laughter and cut the transmission.

“Yeah. I didn’t think so.” Shaking his head ruefully, Drac turned around and came face to face with Kora and the other two medical officers. “Yes?”

Kora was looking sheepish, “Um, sir. When we get to headquarters they want to take you in…”

“No,” Drac interrupted, “I’ll not be undergoing a full battery of tests to tell me something I already know.”

The senior medical officer aboard, an officious looking Chief Warrant Officer, replied in a slightly nasal voice, “Sir, you need to be fully examined. I don’t wish to, but if you insist on being unreasonable I will be forced, as your primary physician, to order your hospitalization until such time as we’re sure that no injury befell you.”

“Is that so?” Drac’s voice was cold, irritation pouring off of him as he turned his head slightly to regard the Warrant Officer with his right eye. He saw Kora wince at that, though he was sure neither of the human medical officers had any idea what the Mon Calamarian body language meant.

“It is so.” The man seemed quite satisfied with himself, smug at the prospect of forcing his will on a superior officer.

“No. It isn’t.” Drac’s calm reply replaced the man’s smirk with a mask of neutrality, “Petty Officer Weasse. I hereby reassign you as my personal physician effective immediately and for indefinite duration.” Her eyes widened and she glanced worriedly at the humans standing beside her as he continued, “In your professional opinion, am I in good health and fit to travel?”

“Umm…” she looked at her now glaring colleagues and back to him, “Yes, sir, you are.”

“You see then, gentlemen?” Drac returned, smiling magnanimously, “All is well. Ms. Weasse will accompany me for a day or two to ensure my good health and that will be the end of this. Understood?”

The Chief Warrant Officer sighed and gave a grudging nod, “It is, Commander. Permission to go, then?”

“You’re dismissed.” The two men turned and walked out rather stiffly.

“You don’t need to be quite so hard on him,” Kora observed, “He’s had a busy and stressful couple of weeks in the aftermath of the poisonings. Dr. Warnstadt is a good man.”

Dismissing the topic with a shrug, the dark Mon Cal replied, “Then he ought to have saved himself the effort of trying to bully a superior officer, patient or not.”

“Aye, sir.” She agreed, though he could tell she didn’t in truth. Kora continued, “Sir? About me accompanying you for a few days?”

“Yes?”

“I was about to head out on Leave, sir, when we got the call about the attack on you. What’ll I do now?”

Gesturing to some nearby chairs, Drac said, “Sit.” When they were seated he continued, choosing his words, “Actually, I know about that- though of course I had no idea I’d be attacked and they’d tap you to come help. I’m here on Leave myself and had hoped –if you were amenable- to ask you to come along with me. If you’d rather not, I’ll release you to your Leave, of course, and probably end up suffering Warrant Officer Warnstadt’s tender mercies.” He let a note of entreaty enter his voice toward the end, changing back to normal as he added an afterthought, “Though I’ll need to arrange alternate transportation…”

Kora was surprised, though she did laugh at his quip about the officious doctor, “Wow. I’m not sure…can I think about it for a while?”

“Of course. Let me know if you have any questions or anything. I’ll be right here, but I want to make arrangements for the Krakana.”

“Thank you. You care that much for your ship?”

“I defend and maintain anything that is mine.” Drac left her to her thoughts and activated a holopad set into the wall nearby. He called up a directory and chose the spaceport’s Emergency Response & Recovery unit. Moments later the head and shoulders of a uniformed Gran appeared. Drac returned her salute and spoke, “I am Commander Dracule Mihawk.”

“The one who crash landed near the canyon a few minutes ago,” she confirmed. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Please send a crew out to recover my starfighter and bring it back to Naval Headquarters for repairs.”

“Are you sure, sir? The reports we received indicated the craft was rather badly damaged. Do you truly believe she can be repaired?”

“I do. There’re also a couple of bags within her cargo hold that I’d like to get back. I’m here on Leave, so the clothes and uniforms within are the only clothes I have with me, along with my toiletries and other possessions.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll send the team out now. We should have her recovered within the next hour or two. Would you like her stored in the High Command hangar temporarily so you can recover your belongings and inspect her?”

“You know your pilots.”

She smiled, “Yeah, I’ve been down this particular spacelane a time or two. We’ll get it done, sir.”

“Thank you.”

They’d arrived at one of the general use hangars servicing the High Command complex several minutes before, so Drac turned the holoprojector off, stood, and waved toward the hatch while speaking to Kora, “We’ve both got a report or two to fill out, I daresay, so let’s head over to my office. I’ve got an extra station you can use, then you can give me your answer if you like.”

“That sounds good, sir.”

A squadron of Naval Marines met Drac as he stepped off the ship, led by a burly Senior Chief Petty Officer. Drac returned the man’s salute, then spoke before he could, “Is this really necessary? We are standing in Naval Headquarters, after all.”

The man’s reply, given in a surprisingly light and even tenor, brought a rueful chuckle from Drac, “It would seem so, sir. You just got shot down over Abrae, after all.”

“Even so. Lead on, then, Senior Chief. You and your men can escort us to the High Command offices.”

“My pleasure, Commander.”

-----

[Two hours later in the private NHC hangar.]

Drac stepped through the hatch into the hangar, Kora a pace or two behind. They’d finished their reports and, having received word that the Krakana had been recovered successfully, made his way to the hangar to check her over and recover his gear.

Walking up to the starfighter, and then around it, Drac growled in anger at the mess the traitor had made of his beautiful ship. The Krakana rested on her engines, her landing gear having never been extended. She tilted to starboard slightly, reflecting the twisted and charred lump that was all that remained of the engine on that wing. Several long, black scores marked her port fuselage where lasers had dug troughs in her armor. He was sobered to note that the astromech’s compartment just behind the cockpit had been holed by one of the bolts. A meter further forward and it would have been his head that got holed. The canopy still stood slightly ajar, having never been shut after he’d left the cockpit.

The worst damage, aside from the crippled engine and twisted wing, was definitely the nose of the ship. On the scale of vehicles, starfighters are not very physically tough, and the impact had reflected that. The craft’s formerly sharp, predatory bow had been crumpled and twisted down, the sides ripped open by the force as it had taken the brunt of the landing.

Shaking his head, the Commander stepped up to the wrecked starfighter and popped open the belly hatch. His bags were still within, and intact at that. He grunted, pleased, and pulled them out. Setting them on the ground, he secured the hatch again. Before he could turn around he became aware of metallic clanks and a man spoke up from behind him, “You never do manage to stay out of trouble, do you? Maybe fish shouldn’t fly.”

Drac turned around and eyed the half-cyborged human standing behind him, “You’re one to talk, Geordi. I walked away- figuratively, anyway.”

Driver’s permanent scowl deepened, “Don’t push it, Mihawk, or you may be leaving medical treatment every time we speak- not just these past few instances.”

Drac nodded, “Apologies, sir.”

Atrasin swept his gaze over the crumpled fighter, “This is the one Slasher gave you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmph. Know if the attacker was working alone?”

“Not yet. I’m sure we’ll nail everything down pretty soon, though…”

“…and then nail down anyone else involved.” Driver finished.

Drac nodded, renewed anger glittering in his eyes, “Yeah. You don’t try this sort of poodoo and not get made an example of.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stay frosty.” The human Commodore replied with a nod of his own, then turned and walked away, his prosthetic foot tapping on the hangar floor.

Kora walked up, looking uncertain. Drac offered a small smile, “It’s okay. Yeah, we’ve got a history.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. Have you made your decision yet?”

The female Mon Calamari nodded, smiling now, “Yes, sir. I couldn’t go leaving you alone with only Dr. Warnstadt for company. His life’s stressful enough as it is.”

Drac laughed, “Ha! Excellent, then. We’ll hop a ride to the commercial spaceport and pick up the tickets I’ve got reserved there.”

“Where’re we going, sir?”

Drac shook his head, “None of that. We’re on Leave- civvie address only. You can call me Drac.”

She smiled, looking down, “Okay…Drac. Please call me Kora, then. But why not Dracule?”

Gesturing toward the door, the dark skinned male guided his companion from the hangar, “Because my friends call me Drac. Others call me Commander Mihawk. Only my parents and cousins call me Dracule.

“As for where we’re going- I’ll pull out my datapad and show you what I’ve got planned on the way over to the spaceport. I think you’ll like it.”

OOC:
Word Count: 1,972

Coming up next: Chapter 4: Ready. Set. Vacation.
FC/CDR Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Chief of Naval Warfare
CNW|Commander Drac|NHC|VEN|VE
"Think Akbar, but Imperial."
Drac
ComNet Marshal
 
Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Vice Captain (VCAP)
 
Post Number:  1600
Total Posts:  2191
Joined:  Jan 2009
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  RE: Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
October 3, 2011 5:55:35 PM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Chapter 4: Ready. Set. Vacation.


A personnel speeder swung by as Kora followed Drac out a side door of the Naval Headquarters main building. Gliding to a stop, it settled to the ground in front of them. A moment later the back door opened and the droid pilot spoke through exterior speakers, “Welcome, Commander Mihawk and guest. I am TD-64A, Personal Speeder Pilot Droid. If you will please enter the vehicle and seat yourself, I will convey you wherever you wish.

Drac waved for Kora to precede him into the vehicle, then settled in beside her on the seat. TeeDee turned its head to look at the Mon Cals, “Destination, sir?”

Glancing at Kora, Drac asked, “I assume you need to pick up your luggage from somewhere?”

“Um, yes. From my apartment. I packed this morning and was about to head home to get my things when the call came in about you.”

“To your apartment, then.”

-----

Drac remained in the speeder when they arrived, allowing Kora a few minutes to change and gather her things. When the speeder’s door shut behind her, he pulled out his comlink and set it to one of his private frequencies, “This is Drac. Status?”

His cousin’s voice crackled back a moment later, “Good to hear from you, Dracule. We’re in position and ready to receive you.”

“Excellent.”

“Hey, what was that radio chatter a few hours ago? Most of the stuff around here’s on encrypted military bands, of course, but the civilian bands said something about an E-wing crashing. That wasn’t Krakana, was it?”

Drac’s grimace carried over into his voice, “I’m afraid it was. Humano-centrist tried to create some opportunity up the rank ladder by removing the convenient alien officer. Almost got me, too. The traitor’s Flight Leader vaped him before he could make it stick, though.”

“Sithspit. You okay, Dracule?”

“Yeah, yeah. It takes more than one upstart idiot to sink me. The Krakana’ll be undergoing repairs for quite a while, though. If you can send down a shuttle, I’ll get you clearance to our auxiliary areas at the civvie spaceport.”

“You’ve got it, boss.”

“Thanks, Tekare. See you soon.” Drac cut off the transmission, then settled in to arrange clearance for the shuttle. Kora came back out a few minutes later and he helped her stow her luggage before directing TeeDee to the spaceport.

-----

“Military surplus, I’m guessing?” Kora asked as she followed Drac into a private hangar and saw the shuttle awaiting them- a Lambda class ship.

Drac grinned, “Military spec, actually. No civilian modifications.”

Kora’s eyes widened a bit, in surprise, “Wow. I knew you’ve got some reach, but I didn’t think it extended that far. But…” she frowned, “this ship doesn’t have Vast Imperial markings.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“Well…sort of. I’ll explain in detail once we’re aboard.” He glanced around, keeping the motion subdued, and Kora’s frown deepened as she noticed it. But she followed him aboard and seated herself as he spoke to the pilot. They took off after a few moments and Drac came back to settle into a nearby chair and strap in. She let him finish, the asked again, her voice firm, “So. How exactly did you come to illegally owning a military spec vessel for private use?”

Drac nodded and replied calmly, “Because it’s not technically private use. The Vast Empire is technically not the only government I fight for.”

“What!?!”

“I also serve as the commander of a fleet of small vessels dedicated to opposing piracy, under the auspices of an organization that serves the interests of Dac.”

Kora’s eyes widened further and her voice held undercurrents of alarm and uncertainty, “But then…you’re a traitor?”

Drac snorted, “Hardly. Though I acknowledge that it could appear that way from certain perspectives. No, my first duty is always to the Vast Empire. That’s clearly understood by both employers. However, in my free time, I perform missions on behalf of the other organization as well. Since we’ll be using the resources I have through them to travel, I wanted to clarify the situation for you before we arrive on my ship.”

“I see…”

“I know you’re unsure, Kora, and that’s fine. Rest assured that this is exactly what I said before: a vacation. There are no plans to subvert you, I’m afraid.” He winked at her. “And I don’t anticipate getting shot. Again.”

The salmon skinned Mon Cal laughed at his tone, but caught the last sentence all the same, “Again?”

Touching his left shoulder briefly, Drac indicated the scar it bore- one he knew she’d seen while checking him, “You’ve seen the starburst pattern on my shoulder. Automated mounted blaster in a hutt stronghold. It was…rather nasty, actually.”

She grimaced, “I can imagine. A hutt fortress, huh? Cartel?” He nodded. “What happened with the hutt?”

“Quite dead, and most of his pirates along with him.”

Shaking her head, Kora smiled ruefully, “I stand by what I said about death and destruction following in your wake, Drac.”

Shrugging, the dark skinned Mon Cal smiled back, “What can I say? I don’t let people shoot me without me shooting them back.”

-----

The hatch hissed open and Drac stepped forward into the Whaladon, Kora following closely behind him. Another male Mon Calamari, dressed in a smart but simple officer’s tunic, traded salutes with Drac and then welcomed them aboard, “Welcome back, Admiral.”

Drac’s barbells quivered as he smiled, “Captain. Please, let me introduce you to my guest. Kora? This is Tekare Mihawk, Captain of the Whaladon…and my cousin. Tekare, this is Kora Weasse. A friend and my former medical officer when I was aboard the Cerulean.”

Executing a short bow, Tekare gave the medical officer a smile, “Welcome aboard, Ms. Weasse. I take it you’ve patched Dracule up once or twice, then?”

Set at ease, Kora answered with a chuckle and nod, “One or twice. Yes. Thank you, Captain Mihawk.”

Turning back to Drac, Tekare tipped his head toward the bridge, “So, where’re we headed, Dracule? What’s the mission?”

“No mission this time.”

“No? Then what’re you out here doing?”

“Vacation.”

“Vacation.” Tekare’s voice was skeptical and completely dry. “Well, that’s a new euphemism for it. But, really. Who’re we assaulting this time?”

The right side of Drac’s mouth quirked up in a smirk, “No one, cousin. We’re going on vacation.”

“Riiight…where to, then?”

Drac turned to Kora, “What do you think? Someplace familiar, yet challenging?” She nodded, expression confused. Drac nodded again and winked, then turned back to Tekare, “Captain, set course for Dac.” Then, still smiling, he beckoned Kora to follow as he stepped out of the antechamber and left Tekare spluttering about galactic borders and arrest warrants.

OOC:
Word Count: 1125
FC/VCAP Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Chief of Naval Warfare
CNW|Vice Captain Drac|NHC|VEN|VE
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."
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