>>In the Naval Platform
Cappadocious' Simulator Room, a male Iridonian technician of approximately thirty-eight years was explaining the parameters of a simulated mission to a female Twi'lek Interceptor pilot of approximately seventeen. The latter smoothed her flightsuit as she listened to what was being said, and placed onto her head the jet-black TIE pilot's helmet, which appeared to have been slightly modified to fit the shape of a Twi'lek's head. The seal hissed, and she flicked a switch on the side of the helmet to enable in-helm speakers, so that she could continue to hear what was being said.
>>"...You'll be leading a flight of- Hey. Are you listening to me, kid?" The Zabrak had stopped talking and was watching her. With these damn helmets, it was always difficult to tell if the pilots were attentive or zoning out, and she'd looked rather spacy before she'd donned it. He proceeded, however, irritation lifted, as the black helmet nodded. "You'll be leading a flight of twelve standard Interceptors, in combat against a flight of twelve 'X-Wing' fighters. Your goal is both to win the fight, and to preserve your squad. For the purpose of this exercise, your designation will be 'Raptor Lead'. Squadmates follow numerically, as always. Example being 'Raptor Two, Three, Four, et cetera. Understand?" The helmet nodded again. She got it. "Good. Whenever you're ready." Without further ado, the technician sprung the simulator's access hatch.
>>She hung on to every word that the Zabrak said. The helmet that she had put on moments before had cut out part of what he was saying, but that was not a problem, as she missed no relevant information; And the speakers brought is voice through loudly and clearly; Effectively amplifying it into her ears. The only thing about the helmets was that they slaughtered her peripheral vision, which, in a TIE-model fighter, it didn't matter, because the front window was the only viewport. But outside, on the ground, she couldn't see anything other than that which she was facing, which both irritated her and made her considerably more uncomfortable with her surroundings.
Let's get this show on the road. She turned as the hatch popped, to stare at it momentarily through the blast-shielded eye openings of her helmet, before pulling herself effortlessly onto the cylindrical machine, and dropping into the hatch and mock-cockpit inside and pulled the hatch closed.
>>The technician watched the girl enter the simulator as he had once before, and turned to face his controls as she vanished into the machine. Instantly, he began inputting the parameters of the mission at hand, his fingers dancing on the keyboard, jotting quick code-lines to get the simulator up and running. He spoke into the microphone...
>>
"Alright, kid. Call ready, whenever," The Zabrak's voice rang over her communications relay.
She pressed the button linked to her communicator, that at the moment, was linked only to the external monitor. Were there a mission in progress, the simulated squadmates would also formulate a response to what was being said over the relay; But as there was not, there were no squadmates to respond. It was only her, and the Zabrak.
"Ready when you are." She spoke cooly into her microphone, as the viewscreen lit up.
Presently, the display was the inside of a small hangar through the cockpit window of an Interceptor prepped for launch. Flight checks, for mission purposes, had been fully completed, but the fighter at this point was powered down, as were 11 others stationed about the hangar. Through the containment field, all she saw were stars. She had no idea where the ship in question was; It was probably somewhere on patrol, in a remote area of space. Either way, there had been reports of New Republic fighters in the area.
What they could possibly be doing all the way out here... She frowned, and spoke into her microphone.
"Raptors, we're coming up on the target location. Give me a quick preflight analysis, and heat up those engines."
Her speakers buzzed instantly to life, as each of her squadmates systematically sounded off.
"Raptor Two, systems green.""Three, all good, here.""Four, ready for launch.""Five, ready."Each member of her flight sounded off in turn, and she waited for the reports to finish, taking the form of brief confirmations over the closed channel, until the final.
"Raptor Twelve, we're all set, Lead. On your mark."She breathed in once, slowly, and back out, before reaching to flick the Engine 1 ignition switch, speaking simultaneously; "Raptor Lead has Engine 1 start," which was met by a chorus of
"Confirmed, Lead. Engine 1 start," and systematic reports of first engine ignition. She paused until the reports stopped, and flicked the ignition switch directly beside the first. "Lead has Engine 2 start. Command?" This report was met in kind, as formally as the first, and followed immediately by a Coruscanti voice crackling over the flight's communications.
"Raptor Flight, engine starts confirmed. Cleared for launch, whenever you're ready.">>On the other side of the barrier, the technician smiled slightly and, watching the monitor, punched a command which would release the hangar's docking clamps, so that each interceptor in turn would be released; Starting with the Twi'lek's.
>>She eased the throttle as she felt her stomach lurch as the docking clamp released and she started towards the flight deck. Upon giving more power to the engines, the starfighter would be held aloft and propelled out of the hangar's containment field. She spoke as she soared from the ship and into the blackness of space.
"Lead has clamp release, and is away."
"Roger, Lead. Two, right behind you." The calm voice of Raptor Two, a male Human could be heard, followed subsequently by systematic reports from the squad, saying basically the same.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and pitched her starfighter to orbit the frigate, speaking into the microphone. "Form on me, Raptors. Keep it tight." Each pilot fell in, until they were all circling the frigate like durasteel vultures. As she pulled her starfighter level under the belly of the larger ship, so to did they, levelling behind her in a standard "arrowhead" formation. She smiled. The satisfaction given to her by the coordination of her simulated squadmates was short lived, however, as her communicator crackled to life. It was Raptor Three.
"Uhh, Lead. I have twelve unidentified craft showing up on the scanner. Say again, one-two unidentified craft. Can you confirm?"She glanced at her display for a moment before replying, "I see the same, Three, and they're heading this way. It looks like a formation of fighters. Let's go on ahead, see if we can't cut them off."
The communcator clicked once by way of confirmation, and she increased throttle. Her squad did the same, keeping perfect formation. They sped ahead of the now-stalling frigate and towards the blips on the scanners. She saw the formation, then, outside of her viewport, and she knew that they had done the same. Her hand tensed on the control yoke, and she spoke a quick order.
"Raptor Flight, break formation, on my mark. Those are, without a doubt, Republic fighters, and we're going to take them out. Alright?" She didn't wait for confirmation. "Three..Two..
Mark!" The squadron split evenly, five to each side, while she stayed down the middle, and Raptor Two remained at her six o'clock. Quickly, she twin-linked her blasters; One to four, and three to two, and fired four shots, being two pulses of cannon, at the lead fighter. Their formation broke as the lead swept down, and the others moved to meet the oncoming Interceptors. Keedra pitched her own Interceptor into a dive to tail the lead, simultaneously ordering Two to keep their leader's wingman off of her tail.
>>The simulated pilot currently at the head of 1st New Republic Navy fleet, squadron Sidewinder had been focusing just as intently on the formation of Interceptors, as Keedra had on the formation of X-Wings, though the thought was immediately confirmed as four green blasts; In succession of two each strobed from the Lead's cannons. Surprised, he shouted for the formation to break and engage the flankers as he pitched his own craft into a dive to avoid the boiling shots, though they did glance off of his wingman's shields, who broke formation instantly to race towards the Imperial lead and her wingman, and was quickly caught and entangled by the latter. Now, the sensors were detecting that an Interceptor was tailing him, and what was worse? Its weapons were locked. He boosted power to rear shields and tried to buck the ship off of his tail, launching into a quick barrel-roll, and gunning his engines. For the most part, it worked, as he snapped back just in time to see four bright-green blasts blaze past his craft.
>>Keedra quad-linked her cannons, in acknowledgement of the fact that she would need to do this in one shot. She smiled inwardly, murmuring, "Got'cha," as her targetting computer lit, indicating weapons lock. She squeezed the trigger, and all four of her wing-mounted cannons strobed once, but the fighter had moved aside. She missed. She swore under her breath, and bucked onto the X-Wing's tail again, firing without waiting for a lock, this time.
Die, damn you. She smiled at the thought, which wasn't induced by irritation, so much as amusing herself as she was locked in this engagement. The blasts found home, and, all four having struck at once, the rear shield shimmered, and boiled away. She watched as he seemed to slow, and he pitched his craft around and into a turn that she should easily be able to keep up with. She smirked. For a squadron leader, he wasn't very smart; If even she, fresh out of the academy, could vaporize him. Meanwhile, Two had already dispensed with his target, and was zooming off to aid the other members of Raptor Squadron in the ongoing dogfight, some five-hundred (and counting) metres to her six. Keedra, however, wasn't finished. She knew that this was a fight she could win, so she allowed herself to overshoot, simultaneously speaking into her microphone. "All Raptors, report status?"
>>The X-Wing pilot in question, a male Human, snapped his craft, which had always been fairly slow to respond, into the tightest turn that he could manage. He knew that his opponent should have no problem snapping onto his tail, and was extremely surprised when the Interceptor overshot by such a distance as it did. He turned as best he could to look behind him, and hopefully see just what the hell it was that the girl thought she was doing, as he held true to his current bearing.
>>Outside of the simulation, the technician palmed his forehead.
She was doing so well, too. And she just..Blows it off? He shook his head and returned to the monitor. He needed to pay attention.
>>Her communicator buzzed with reports. Two was rushing to get back into the action, Raptors Three, Four, and Five had linked up to take out a pair of X-Wings, and were now going about their way, Raptor Six was wounded, and barely limping away from the engagement, though noone seemed to persue, Seven had been shot down and gone EVA, Eight was vaporized, and the others were still fighting strongly. Of what she summarized from the status reports, at least four Republic fighters had been destroyed, with no sign of eject. She spoke calmly into the microphone,
"Alright. I'm wrapping up my little game, over here. Two, break off. Escort Six, and get him back to
Arbiter. I don't want to lose any more than is absolutely necessary."
She brought her fighter around, to face the X-Wing lead, who was by now coming around to face her, as well. It all came down to reflex, and she shot first. He had not yet boosted forward shields; Which was a mistake on his part, as under the force of four turbolaser bolts, his craft exploded in a silent blossom of flame. The four yellow-and-white painted wings went spiralling in random directions, as she flew through the cloud of superheated gas and whipped her fighter into a quick snap-roll, to bring her about and streaking towards the ongoing fight, in time to observe her orders being carried out. As she rejoined the battle, she spoke.
"Well, I'm back, Raptors."
"Glad to have you back, Lead. And, that's seven.." The responding voice was Raptor Three, a female Chiss, spoken as she dispatched an X-Wing that was breaking off to tail Six and his escort. The sleek Interceptor streaked through the cloud and came about, dropping onto Keedra's wing as both joined the fray.
"Yeah, including their lead," She responded. "Raptors, disengage and form on me, but maintain evasive maneuvers, if necessary. I want a head count. Now." She brought her fighter into a dive to put her below the fray as the surviving members of her squadron did the same, spiraling out of combat and rejoining on her tail.
Six fighters now formed to persue eight, as Two was once again joining the formation. The situation report called Two, Three, Four, Five, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve at ready. She spoke into the microphone. "They're right on top of us. On my mark, break formation and reengage, but try to preserve yourselves." The enemy formation drew ever nearer, and blasters strobed as a few shots were launched towards Raptor's pilots. They overshot completely, as the formation broke instantly on the call "
Mark." They split, half shot upwards towards the assaulting X-Wings, and half broke downwards to swing around and pincer from above. Three of the remaining six X-Wings were vaporized in the first exchange of fire, as the charging three TIEs and Keedra's cannons strobed and they broke off.
All in all, a damn successful maneuver. She smiled to herself as the remaining three X-Wings were being engaged, now by six TIEs, as one additional had been killed.
In silent exchanges of fire, then, the remaining three were mopped up and reduced to clouds of superheated gas and chunks of durasteel. She addressed the remainder of her squadron. "Nice work, Raptors. Reform on me. We're done, here."
It was with that that she eased her Interceptor into a turn as the remaining Raptor squadron, leaving formation spaces in reverence of those that could not otherwise be present, pulled onto her tail, as they decelerated and moved at a light cruising speed towards the ship. The screen blacked, and statistics written in bright blue Galactic Basic lettering scrawled across the viewscreens.
Quote:"Squadron Command"
End Result: Mission Success
==Simulation Statistics==
Personal Kills:
1
Squadron Kills:
12
Casualties (Dead/Wounded):
2/2
Grinning inside of her helmet, she climbed out as the hatch had sprung when the simulation ended, and gracefully dismounted the machine, landing with the clunk of Imperial Navy boots against durasteel bulkhead. The airtight seal of her helmet disengaged with a pop, and she removed the helmet, taking care to wipe her grin before doing so. The technician gave her a single nod, and she turned to exit the simulator room without further ado.
- OOC:
- Wordcount: 2484.
