After sharing the bottle of forbidden drink called “The Green Stuff” Twitch had departed when Tryk showed up. Conversing with Dunn had left her feeling unsure of her feelings. She didn’t think she hated the man as she had a few days ago, but she still didn’t like his way of commanding. Of course, he had pointed out to her that it wasn’t her place to like his commanding style that her place was to follow order regardless. She was now walking, or rather to say, stumbling, her way through the med bay once more. With a very aggravated and disapproving look, two orderlies came up behind her, grabbing her arms and dragging her back to her bed. Without so much as a word to her they would strap her wrists to the bed and close the privacy current.


30 minutes later, after a lecture about behaving, healing, the responsibilities of her new rank, and a threat that if she did not behave and take it an easy she would be put on quarters for a month to stop her from flying, Twitch was released from observation. With a glower on her face, head bowed slightly, not meeting any ones eyes, she made out way out of the med bay and smack dab into a young man. She looked up to snap at him to watch where he was standing only to bite her tongue. well….aren’t you delicious. she would blame the pain killers. Her eyes glanced over the group and she arched a brow. the middle of the hallways seems like an odd place to have a squadron meeting… she trailed off watching the approach of a rather odd, and somewhat familiar creature. Odd in the fact that Twitch never expected to meet the legendary slave driver. Familiar, only in pictures that her mother and father had drawn in her mind from stories of their time in the VE. Here, here was a commander she could come to respect. Automatically, despite the ache it caused in her ribs, she straightened up a little taller and habitually popped off a salute.

Not so much as a word was spoken as she followed after the short but intimidating Trandoshan. At Cerv’s question and his reply, she couldn’t help but give a quiet comment. “What’s left of it” It seemed to be her fate that she would always be unable to bite her tongue upon meeting new commanders for the first time, well that was fine, she'd blame it on the concussion she was stubbornly refusing she had. She shrunk at the look. Dunny may have let it slip, this one would not.

” "Vorsssk Attragal.. call me Krayt." The short Trandoshan peered up at the tallest of the squadron, before flicking his gaze back to Cervidae. All eyes were on him now - some curious, others confused, others still fearful. "Warrant Offissser Firssst Classss and Chlovi Ssquadron Commander." So she had assumed right. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or dismayed at that. Logic told her she should be thrilled. If anyone could turn them from the green fighters and green unit they were now into something to give the Saints a challenge, it was him.

Emotionally, she knew he had a reputation of being a slave driver, and that was something that had her on edge. She clutched where her shoulder had been dislocated and shifted, her mind starting to trail. Even she knew that working out this morning had been a stupid idea. She would follow behind Ferret and Quicksilver, trying to hug the back of the crowd for the moment so she could watch and study what was left of what was going to be her family, and more specifically to watch Cabby. She was sure she’d like the girl if she gave her half the chance, and she had some plans to run sim after sim with the girl if she’d agree to it. If she’d agree to it and she could get Cerv off her back. Twitch had done a remarkable job of avoiding her former wingmate and new XCO the last few days…it could only last so long though. She came back to the present when once again she found herself bumping into Elijah. sorry she muttered tuning back into the new SCO.

OOC:

word count 700

AAR: after sharing in some drink with her former commander Twitch wanders around for half an hour or so before getting strapped to her cot so she'll stop irritating her ribs and shoulder. The concussion seems to have destroyed her "i give a crap filter" that usually keeps her shy and anti social and respectful, letting her normal spitfire self shine. She is stubbornly refusing the logic that she has one, and she insists that her ribs are fine.

Still, tired of her antics, Medical staff threatens that if she doesn't take it easy her chain of command will be notified and they will make a strong recommendation she not fly for a month. this does the trick and she agrees to  take it easy for a few days.

She leaves her cot just in time to run into the rest of Chlovi. And thier new SCO. Her father has told her stories about this terrifying and legendary figure.

If she truely had taken the time to pull herself back from the situation as she normally did in times of stress, the slow ebbing in of Chlovi members that seemed to be growing in numbers in a small group around her would have actually struck Cervidae as enjoyable. Almost like what she had always pictured a family reunion to be like. In her own head, a reunion would occur after a terrible tragedy and people weren’t taking it very well. Therefore, their first instinct was to pull together and stand with eachother until the tragedy made them stronger together. There would be sadness at first, but everything would turn all right in the end. Everyone would come to love and accept one another, using the experience to accept the universe in new ways.

Although the family she had on Lotaith was neglectful (at best), it was their blurry memories that stood waiting for her at this reunion with arms wide open. And just how she pictured it, it unfolded around her with new players. There was an air of sadness, but the tinge of hope that whispered in the back of the mind that those who survived had a chance of achieving greatness. It was all there; but, the Executive Officer couldn’t see it. All she was thinking about -- silently obsessing about -- was the pain everyone was in and the ever present Medbay. She fought every memory of anything remotely similar to the three years of her life that she had no possibility of regaining, but there was too much immersion that couldn’t be avoided.

No matter how hard she tried to keep from the surges of panic, there seemed to be no real cure for this anxiety. And, if there was, it was going to be either the simple idea of removing herself from the area or crawling into that Medbay on hands and knees to plead for medication of any sort. Either option was possible at this point, but the squad kept her still. Deep down, despite the fact that she couldn’t understand it just yet, she had already connected to this squad and called it her family.  It would take her a little while to come across the realization, but it was there. Just sitting under the current wave of excitement of events kept her from noticing come of the more obvious shades of her understanding. There was no pressure on time, not as far as she knew, and there was still a breath of calm amongst the Squadrons.

Yet, always, the psychological trauma that came from medical facilities in general was obnoxiously draining on the brunette. It wasn’t crippling, by some grace of the world, but it was getting that way. The thought of submitting to the idea that perhaps she should go speak to a psychiatrist about her problems with hospital-related anything had crossed her mind once or twice as she skirtted in and out of the Medbays to perform psych evaluations or general check ups. It would have probably done her some good, especially considering the fact that while she tried to play off her nervousness with her default serious face, but the thought faded into the back of her mind. As long as she wasn’t defaulting to a full-on panic attack, there wasn’t particularlly anything to be concerned about. Besides, the less willing I am to be in there, the more I’ll fight to keep flying… An internal smile broke the storm of frenzied emotions and allowed for there to be a slight calm, allowing her to ease some anxiety off as a Trandoshan came and took control of the Chlovi Squadron.

It was true that she was aware of a change in Leadership, especially given Dunny’s physical damage, but she wasn’t entierly sure as to whom the position would be given to. From the way he carried himself and began an analysis of the green squadron. The look in his eyes were cold, hard, and familiar. She had seen them before, staring back at her somewhere. Cervidae attempted for focus on it, determined where to find the origin of the familiarity, but he ordered them to follow him. The man was her superior, regardless if he was whom she thought he was, and out of respect and common curtesy, she was obliged to follow whatever order he gave.

Yet, even under orders, entering the Medbay room caused a shortness of breath, only coming under control when a sympathetic Cabby brought her back to her senses and have her reassure the other with a small smile.  “Really, I’m fine..” Cerv had managed to say with a shrug of her shoulders. There was no purpose in letting anyone worry about her while she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. The smile grew a bit bigger, nodding to strengthen her statement. Fletcher, although a little skeptical, returned the smile and let the question fall as Cervidae trained her eyes back on the target of this trip back inside of the Medbay’s doors.

A redheaded flight member that had been pretty badly injured during the Bloodmoon battle had been lectured for at least half an hours time, listening to an orderly go on about responsibilities and her health. The woman had a nasty  habit of getting up and leaving dispite the fact that she really could use the rest. Survivors trauma or not, Anita Calfall needed rest so that her body could recover from the various amounts of drugs that were trying their very best to kick into effect while Twitch tried harder than ever to avoid sitting still for too long. Very much so like many Chlovi’s that had made it out alive of the battle, she felt like there was more that needed to be accomplished  before they were to be flight-ready, but it was no longer her choice in what was to occur. As Vorssk Attragal took control and gestured for the flight member to follow him, Twitch hesitated for a moment. She had no idea who he was or why he was giving orders, but spotting Cervidae kept her from raising questions and raised herself up to follow the small crowd.

Much to Cervidae’s silent relief, the party was taking their leave from the Medbay as they returned into the hall. The woman could feel herself taking in more air, returning back to herself as the final purpose of being in that room was acheived. She wasn’t entirely aware if anyone had picked up on her stress, but she could pretty much assume it was as obvious as it felt. They probably each had their own theories as to why she reacted the way she did, but it hardly mattered. Her only concern was recieving an answer to the most basic questions of all: was he the replacement of one Sam Dunn?  She questioned it, he answered it, and the whole squadron became frozen in time. There was no warning towards the Chlovi that there was going to be a replacement for the Squadron, especially to those who had no idea what kind of state the former Commander was in.

Cervidae shook off the shock as quickly as possible, nodding towards the Trandoshan leader of her squadron. She, unlike a handful of 50th members, hadn’t really gotten to know the former leader that well. Given his state and her surperior’s descision to replace him, there was no questioning the new man’s leadership. He looked ready enough and the look in his eyes spoke of years of fighting. He was a strong character, and the XO had to respect that. He was going to be leading and she had to listen, no matter what.

OOC:

WC: 1,285

AAR: While standing in the halls with Cabby, a mysterious Trandoshan arrives and begins beckoning the Chlovi girls to follow him. Cervidae, although aware that a new SCO was to be instated, couldn't accurately determine if this was the replacement. Yet, he was her superior and follow she did. After retrieving Twitch from the Medbay and returning to where three other Chlovi members (Kilroy, Quick Fire, and Ferret) stood waiting for the orders. Much to Cervidae's suspicion, the Trandoshan introduces himself as Vorssk 'Krayt' Attragal, the new SCO of the Chlovi Squadron.

This post is more CD while the next one will be instructional. The continuation will come later tonight with the actual debriefing and dismissal. Hopefully I will be able to accomplish it soon, time permitting, but we'll see.

Finally some action, thought Grent, as he readied himself for the fight, checking over his sytems: still green. Good. In these situations, green meant alive. The Qiiluran man had gone from being bored, to combat ready in a matter of seconds. It was all a part of their training as fighter pilots, drilled into them at the academy.

The 58th squadron, nicknamed “Strill”, was a force to be reckoned with, be their enemy computer or organic. Yet to fight together as their current squadron, Grent believed that they would still be a tough match to beat. He knew Strill had a reputation for being made of the trouble makers, which certainly explained why he had been accepted so readily. No matter what happened, this was still his squadron, and he would die, before he would betray them.

The computer piloted craft swooped down on the squadron, lasers firing. Grent saw a stream of fire coming towards him, and swore as the cockpit vibrated to simulate being hit. Warning lights flashed on, as the TIEs roared past behind them. The order to break formation came, and Grent immediately executed a sharp turn, coming face-to-face with more TIEs. Where did these guys come from?, Grent thought, as he performed evasive manoeuvres to prevent becoming space dust. He let off a torrent of laser fire, and started scanning around for more enemy craft, calling them out on the comm as he counted.

“It’s Trick!”

Dread filled Grent as he heard those words, and looked about to see a Defender wipe out two of his wingmates. The Captain was famous at the academy, which was still very fresh in his mind, as the man from Kuat wreaked havoc upon the battlefield. Grent was scared. He had settled into the simulator enough that he no longer saw the difference between real life and the game. It was a problem when he was younger, but in simulators, it gave him a slight edge. Adrenaline pumped through his system, as he saw what Trykon had brought with him: Avengers.

“We’ve got Avengers, guys,” he called out on the comm, to whoever was listening.

The comm itself was full of combat chatter:

“I’ve got one on my six.”
“I can’t shake him!”
“Score one for the Empire!”

Grent found himself selecting some classical orchestral battle music from his mental repertoire: a good piece, with loud bass. It helped set the mood for the battle to say the least.

More laser fire scorched his cockpit, as he took out a TIE that was tailing another of his wingmen. Grent pulled back on the control column, causing the Interceptor to fly. He could out manoeuvre these TIEs any day. It was, however, the Avengers he was worried about. They outclassed the Interceptor in everyway. The only difference was that it was an AI piloting them. If Grent had said it once, he had said it a thousand times: organics were better that computer pilots. That was the hope that Grent clutched to.

As an Avenger decided that Grent was to be its first catch of the day, he thought about the AI, and if it had been programmed to expect the unexpected. Grent certainly hoped not, as he suddenly reversed thrusters, sending the Avenger shooting past him. Now he was behind, and the Avenger was the target: the hunter had become the hunted. Laser after laser went streaking from the cannons, each simulated section of high intensity light filled with deadly intentions. But the Avenger was too agile, and Grent only scored light hits. He realized that Strill as a whole weren’t going to do this with each pilot fighting on his, or her, own.

“Work together, guys. Be unexpected.”
“What an original thought,” came a sarcastic reply, “Well done genius.”
“Well I don’t hear anyone else contributing!”
“Silence, both of you!” That was Joamer’s voice, “Contribute to shooting as many bandits as you can. Leave the tactics to me.”
“Aye, sir,” said Grent grudgingly.

He continued dodging fighters, letting off shots as and when he could. Suddenly, he found he had a TIE … no, TWO TIEs on his tail! Grent let out a breath, and started thinking through tactics rapidly. Before he could act on any of them, an Interceptor came out of the darkness, blasting one of the TIEs, and sending the other into an uncontrollable spin.

“I owe you, whoever my guardian angel is.”
“Buy me a drink later.” Starlight. Of course.

Grent, though grateful at having his hide saved, wasn’t particularly happy about it being saved by a girl. Still, he had respect for her. He also was gaining respect for the famous Captain, who was still causing mayhem. Trykon seemed to be in complete control, though it must be easier in the advanced fighter that was the Defender. Grent briefly considered attempting to attack, but just as quickly dismissed the thought as being suicide. He resumed the fighting.

OOC:

WC: 824

AAR: Grent gets into the sim, and is shocked at the entrance od Trykon, a man who he'd heard about at the academy. Grent then kills a TIE, then picks up two on his six. He is saved by Starlight. Grent then gains respect for her, and Tryk, who's flying has impressed him. He considers attacking Trykon, but decides it would be suicide, and starts attacking again.

Elijah’s strides matched Ferret’s almost perfectly. They had fallen into synchronization long ago, and even if they hadn’t been wingmates for a while, the harmony between them was strong. It was obvious how much they trusted each other. Ferret would take a bullet for his friend and he knew that Elijah would do the same for him. It had taken a while sure, but Ferret was comfortable with the other man, something that was not at all common for Sebastian Raidro. In school it as like he had an infectious illness; kids avoided him like the plague, which was alright by him since he wasn’t too keen on socializing. But Sebastian could have done without the insults. He was constantly teased for the stutter that laced his words, as well as the way his hands shook. Ferret had outgrown the stutter but his shaking had not stilled. When Ferret had first been introduced to Elijah he was shaking so hard he thought his bones might rattle free. He was so overwhelmingly afraid that this new person would be just like the kids at school: harsh and uncaring. However he wasn’t, and eventually he gained Ferret’s trust and Ferret made his first friend in nearly 25 years of life.
  Ferret was the oldest of three – his brother 17 and sister 15. He had always envied how easily the two made friends. A simple smile from either of them and they had you wrapped around their finger. Ferret supposed it was the Zeltron colouring like his siblings had inherited from their mother Luxa. Ferret’s mother was a very beautiful Zeltron woman with light pink skin and deep purple hair. In her age Luxa had not lost her looks, and people fawned over her where ever she went. Sebastian looked nearly nothing like his mother, he had the same dark hair and pale skin his father had. He had her eyes though, warm and blue. Though he did not have the physical features of a Zeltron Sebastian had gotten a limited telepathic ability and the ability to produce potent pheromones. Ferret reflected that if he did not have the extreme chemical imbalance in his brain that caused his crippling anxiety, he’d have no trouble at all.

    Sebastian glanced over at Quickfire as he answered his pervious question. Ferret had had the pleasure of flying with the man several times, and he knew his skill, though Ferret also knew Eli preferred the hangers than the sky. He was a brilliant pilot, and an even better mechanic. The times that Eli helped out in the hangers were the times that Ferret was not by his side. Ferret subjected himself to the stress of such a hectic place only when absolutely necessary. Over the years Sebastian had figured out his limit, and the hanger pushed it. One on one conversations and crowds got him the worst for some reason. Both evoked the same feeling: like someone had their hands around his neck, and pressing into his chest, like he was drowning on the words he was trying to speak. Ferret only had one thing on his mind when the attacks hit: get the heck out of there and fast. Get out and hid.

    The walk to the medbay was short when both partners had such long legs. They were coming around the corner Ferret’s mood darkened slightly. “Couldn’t they have picked another place to hold a briefing?” He disliked medbays because people in the medical profession always got after him about his mental condition. Ferret visited the physiologist frequently for checkups as well as re-fills. In his pocket Ferret smoothed out a bent edge of the picture.

    “She went to them, I ‘spose,” Elijah responded absently and Ferret shrugged, not entirely pacified with the answer, but Elijah was saved from his complaining as they turned the corner and came upon the group of Chlovi pilots. Ferret hadn’t read much about his new squadmates, but he had skimmed their files briefly after prompting from Quickfire. However he did not recognize the Trandoshan and his hands began to shake in his pockets. Sebastian had met a few Trandoshans (his father’s job as a merchant brought in many colourful costumers) though he had never flown with one.  Ferret had stopped paying attention to the group and was focused on a speck of dust that floated around the light above the head of one Elizabeth Fletcher. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rung them together as Elijah’s hand pressed against his shoulder, shaking him out of the trance. Elijah introduced the two of them, and Sebastian was grateful that he didn’t have to speak. The Trandoshan signaled for the small group to follow and Ferret placed Elijah’s shoulder and waited until they were the last to follow. Quickfire patiently waited for the group to pass before they fell back into their synchronized pace.

      “You alright?” Elijah muttered two his friend and Ferret nodded slowly before looking over at the other.

    “Yeah, Yeah I’m cool,” Sebastian mumbled, his voice rumbling from his chest. “How dangerous is it for me to take another dose?” he asked, only half joking and Quickfire chuckled, pushing against his shoulder lightly.

    “You’ll be fine.”

    “Sure, sure,” Ferret shoved his hands back into his pockets and began to play with the photo again. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Out of the corner of his eye Ferret saw his friend smirk. Ferret very much doubted that he would survive the entire briefing. Trandoshans went after the weakest link, and in social situations that that title fell to Sebastian. He shuddered and, bit his lip lightly. The new SCO likely already knew that he was part Zeltron, and Ferret couldn’t quite remember what the Trandoshan’s position on Zeltron’s where… which added to Ferret’s anxiety. As they walked Ferret’s mind went wild, finding the smallest details to freak out over. He was starting to feel pressure on his chest and he gripped Quickfire’s fore arm.

    “Calm down… you’ve over thinking things,” Elijah responded instantly in a hushed town as the group came to a stop.

OOC:

Chlovi NPC post

wc: 1,020

aar: mostly just character development, reflecting on ferret's and Eli's friend ship, his anxiety, and a bit on his family. They arrive at the medbay and Ferret begins to feel anxious as per usual, and he works himself up as the group follows their new SCO. 

The young Ensign was scared. He had been working the comm centre, when a classified above top secret priority message had come through, from the VSD Brilliant. He hadn’t looked at the message that he now clutched in his hands, but his supervisor had nearly fainted when he read it. He was being attended to by medics right now. Scuttlebutt had it that the NCC himself was paying a surprise visit to the Brilliant, and the Ensign wasn’t a fool. He could put two and two together, but what he got from it, didn’t bear thinking about. Whatever had happened on the other ship involved the NCC, and it probably meant that the Adjudicator would soon be at action stations.

The man practically ran through the numerous corridors, trying to find the Captain. He found his way to the Captain’s cabin, and knocked on the door, waiting patiently outside. A passing crew member stopped to talk to the comm officer.

“Are you looking for the Captain, sir?”
“Yes,” he said, hurriedly, nodding his head, “Do you know where he is?”
“Last I saw he was heading to the sims …” but that was as far as he got. The officer pushed past the crew member, and literally sprinted down the hallway, breaking most of the ship etiquette he could remember.

Eventually, after a couple wrong turns, he found himself in front of the closed door that led to the simulator room. The Marine on duty refused to move.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in whilst the sims are in use.”
“Look, I’m not asking, I’m telling you: if the Captain’s in there, then I need t-…”
“The Captain’s in here, yes. But he’s asked to not be disturbed unless absolutely necessary.”
The Ensign seethed, “Marine!” he shouted, holding the priority message up in front of the guard’s face, “This is a priority message that needs to be delivered to the captain A-SAP! Now you will move aside, or, god help me, I will have you thrown out this Navy before you can say ‘yessir’! Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir! Yes sir!” said the Marine, snapping to attention at the unexpected outburst. He turned and opened the door, the Ensign storming in, and walking straight up to the simulator operator.
“Get me the Captain. Now!” he barked. There was no time for politeness. Not after he’d been running around the entire ship.

The operator could sense that the young officer in front of him was not to be trifled with, steam practically billowing out of his ears. He led the comm officer to the pod that the Captain had been assigned to, carfully avoiding the strill that was curled up outside one of the flight member’s pods, and knocked on the hatch before opening it, revealing the flightsuited Captain, head covered by a flight helmet. Even though his features were cloaked, the man in the pod was obviously not impressed about being interrupted.

“There better be a good reason for this interruption, Ensign.” He said. The man composed himself quickly, before climbing up the steps to the simulator cockpit, and the powerful man that it contained.
“Sir, this just from the Brilliant.” he said, voice quaking, and extending the communiqué. The Captain removed his flight helmet, and took the message. His eyes danced back and forth, as he absorbed the information written on it.

Trykon felt his heart skip a beat. This couldn’t be right, could it? No, it must be a mistake. But in his gut, Trykon knew that it was true. That the NCC had been … kidnapped. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. How could this have happened, in his fleet? That was a question to be answered another time. The Captain sighed, and looked at the man who had given him the worst news he’d had in a long time.

Without a word, Trykon lifted himself up, out of the cockpit, and clambered over the side to the sim room floor.  The Crewman stumbled backwards, giving his captain room.  “Sir?” he asked uncertainly.

“Thank you, Ensign. You’re dismissed.” The comm officer, clearly relieved that he was no longer in charge of such important information, but very concerned about the message, and its effect on his supervisor, turned around and left. As Trykon jogged out of the room, bound for the Adjudicator’s bridge, he called over his shoulder: “Get ‘em out of the sim and send ‘em to the hangar deck!  All hands to battlestations!”
"Aye aye, Cap'n," the simulator operator said quietly, as he went off to perform his orders, sending a message to each of the screens in the sims.

OOC:

WC: 793

AAR: The message being delivered from the pov of the ensign.

Asteroid Gwodd LK Nale
The Sollamens Asteroids
Dorn Day, Herf Hour minus one


Deep within the hunk of rock the Verpine slaves called Gwodd LK Nale, Colonel Mern of Imperial Dominion Intelligence found himself in the company of two very distinguished subhumans.

Sprawled out on an interrogation table was the Wookiee leader of the invading Vast Imperial Navy, flanked on either side by two of Mern’s most talented “interview specialists.”  And the second of his special guests stood close at hand: the venerable Vark’it Zrii, the hermaphroditic monarch of the Verpine Colony indigenous to Gwodd LK Nale.  As usual, the insectoid alien leader was sedate and docile, unwilling to test Mern’s temper.  The furry beast in an Admiral’s uniform, on the other hand, had not yet learned that lesson.

Bellows and howls and brutal snaps of his powerful jaws were all Ph'rranix Krazanr could do, though.  The restraints which held him down were too strong to yield, even to a Wookiee’s strength.  After a particularly violent – but still fruitless – bout of struggling, Colonel Mern began to laugh.  The angrier Vice Admiral StOrMz became, the louder Mern’s laughter became, until eventually, the Wookiee growled one final time, and went silent.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to keep yodeling,” Mern asked sweetly, his purpose-built facial features betraying his underlying distaste at the idea of conversing with an alien.  “Because it is such a pleasant sound.”

From behind him, the Verpine chittered and chirped in its disgusting bug-speak.  Mern waited impatiently for the translation.  “Um, yes,” the translator droid sputtered nervously, before relaying the Verpine’s words: “It asks if it may leave.”

“No, you can’t leave,” Mern said dispassionately to the insect-thing.  “I want you to watch.  This is what happens to alien scum that dares to give orders to men.”

The Verpine’s bulbous eyes betrayed no emotion, but the being did seem to sag a bit as it realized what was about to happen.

“Now, Vice Admiral,” Mern said, turning to the Wookiee, “I’m going to hurt you, quite a little bit.  Don’t worry.  Eventually I’ll ask you some questions.”

Krazanr growled a long, vicious-sounding phrase.  The translator droid interjected sheepishly: “Well, yes.  Um.  The Wookiee calls you a, um, a fool.  He says his fleet will come here, and, well…  He says they'll kill you. A lot.”

Mern chuckled at the translation, and grinned evilly.  “I’m counting on your vaunted fleet coming here, Vice Admiral,” the IDI chief said quietly, leaning over StOrMz.  “And when they do, they’ll find the Sollamens almost empty.  They’ll capture our hastily-built hangar, with minimal losses, and then they’ll find the shuttle from that ship you were on.  You know, before you let prisoners break out of detention, then incapacitate and kidnap you.”  Krazanr growled, but Mern was undaunted.  “And then, puzzled by the mystery, their own uncertainty will send them off into the asteroid field, searching for answers.  Just in time for the pulsar to enter its active phase.”

Mern shrugged.  “The ships which go hunting will be destroyed by Captain Raizo,” he said confidently.  “For you see, the Verpine will not risk the safety of their Queen, here,” he said, indicating Vark’it Zrii with a tilt of his head, “and so they are effectively our puppets.  And Verpine… well, it turns out that Verpine can communicate with each other using electromagnetic signals, even when they are separated by extreme distances.”  Mern grinned again.  “And their creepy, unnatural telepathy is the only method of communication we've found that is not affected by the Sollamens pulsar.  Say what you will about subhumans; occasionally they have talents worth exploiting.”  One of the torturers snickered.

Mern continued: “After your fleet is dead in space, Captain Raizo will escort our relief force of Army troopers here, to retake Gwodd LK Nale.  And they’ll have plenty of help, my dear Admiral Fuzzy Face.  I have an entire legion of special forces personnel concealed here in these tunnels.  The Verpine vermin dug them all over this god-forsaken rock, before we came.  They twist through this asteroid for kilometers, and they’re the perfect place to stash my trump card.”  He looked at his foe for a long moment.  “Welcome to Dominion space,” he said without emotion.

As the pain-inducers went to work, StOrMz reflected: the Second Fleet was jumping into a well-prepared trap.  With the Verpine coerced into helping the Dominion, the Vast Imperials would be at a huge disadvantage during the pulsar’s active periods.  And if Trick was forced to withdraw after the active-phase battle – or worse, if he was killed, as Mern seemed to think would happen – that would leave the initial VE landing party cut off and alone on Gwodd LK Nale, to face a legion of hidden spec ops troops and the inevitable relief force launched from Tilsec Prime.  The Wookiee exhaled a little mournful wail, that soon turned into a roar of anguish.

OOC:

817 words.

AAR: StOrMz undergoes torture at the hands of Colonel Mern, the chief of Imperial Dominion Intelligence.  We also learn that Gwodd LK Nale was actually a peaceful Verpine colony, before the Dominion came.  Mern, in classic villain style, relates his plan to his captive enemy: by exploiting the innate ability of the Verpine to communicate with each other remotely, the ID is going to coordinate an attack on the VEN forces when the systems pulsar enters its "active" phase (which makes the electromagnetic radiation in the System much, much worse).  With the Second Fleet crippled or destroyed, Mern and Raizo will then destroy the VE landing forces left stranded on Gwodd LK Nale with a counter-invasion of their own, which will be assisted by Mern's trump card: a legion of spec ops, hiding in the Verpine-dug tunnel network that goes all over Gwodd LK Nale.

Orders:

Strill: you can post about the initial invasion (how it was a milk run, with no excitement), and then you need to get yourselves into the newly-occupied-by-the-VE hangar.  Remember, this is based on Henderson Field, on the historical Guadalcanal.  Use that as your inspiration.  Depending on how things play out, you'll likely get combat duty in and out of the cockpit.

Chlovi: again, feel free to cover arrival and the disappointing/boring invasion.  But eventually, you'll be flying CAP for the Fleet when the sith hits the fan.  Be ready for a bloodbath.

VENI: You have a lot going on already, but hopefully I've given you even more angles now for you to work on.

The look in his eyes...

Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail tried to shrug off the memory and focus.  He stood on the bridge of the VSD Brilliant, his pride and joy that had turned to living nightmare in the blink of an eye.  Not a day previous the Naval Commander in Chief was standing right where Pherik was, lauding Zail and his crew for their exemplary skill and devotion to duty.

That same man, Vice-Admiral Krazanr, had now been kidnapped off this very ship, in a fiasco that had cost the lives of some twenty seven of Serpent’s crew, including his First Officer, Vagen Eosel.

I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before.  At least not directed at me...

Zail shoved the thought aside, stirred from his memories by the sound of his Second Officer and temporary XO, Farish Quinn, approaching.  “Sir?” Said the man, wary of intruding.  “We are about to reach Sollamens.”

“Very good,” Said Serpent, his voice sounding gruff and strained for some reason.  “The moment we leave hyperspace, raise shields and deploy TIEs.  We have no idea what will be waiting for us here.”

“Yes, sir,” Said the man, marching off.  His boots rang out loud on the deck plates, echoing across the eerily silent bridge.  A Star Destroyer bridge was never noisy, but today it seemed that there was an ominous edge to the silence, an all-pervading subdued mood in the crew.  Even witty Dev Mishima, recently restored to the position of Com Chief, was not himself.

Zail could not blame them.  He was feeling just as bad, if not worse.  This was his ship and everything that happened on it was his responsibility.  Up until now the Brilliant had thrived under his leadership, and he had eagerly taken the praise heaped upon it.  He would not shirk the blame now that failure had come.

Looking into those eyes had been the hardest of all, he mused.

The holocall to the Chief of Naval Warfare, Wyl Trykon, had been agony for Serpent.  In the wake of the kidnapping, the Second Fleet had hurriedly reformed at the Bloodmoon system, and once he arrived the Captain of the Adjudicator had wasted no time in calling Zail for an update.

Serpent told his friend exactly what had happened.  It had spilled out of him, part report and part babbled confession and apology.  Trick just listened through it all, patiently getting all the details.  When at last Zail had finished, the fleet commander simply said, “This is a debacle.  I expected better of you, Pherik.”

The words were flat, dead, devoid for the friendly tone that Trykon usually used with Serpent, but it was more than that.  It was his eyes.  His grey-green eyes were filled with such disappointment.  Zail would have preferred anything to that.  Would that Trick had been angry or raging, that he could have handled.

But Pherik could not deal with the thought of letting his friend down – at letting the entire fleet down.  That was what really broke Serpent.

Zail had come close, in those terrible few moments, to offering his immediate resignation.  He probably would have done, had he not just then received a priority message on a secure channel he knew well.

It was VENI.  The priority text-only message was routed from the Tower on Abrae direct to him as the Fleet Liaison for Vast Empire Naval Intelligence.  They knew exactly where the Vice-Admiral was being held, and it was where the fleet was headed anyway.  Sollamens.

“I’ll find him, Trick!” He had promised immediately.  “He is on a base called Gwodd LK Nale.  I have a thousand Stormtroopers on board the Brilliant and I shall lead the assault myself!”

“No.”  The answer had been short, firm, and devastating.  “I need you to help fight the Dominion fleet.  I have... others in mind for Stormz’ rescue.  That is all,” And with that he had ended the transmission, and with it all of Serpent’s hopes for redemption.

In the hours since, Zail had replayed that conversation a hundred times in his mind.  The words were not important, the only thing he focused on was the disappointment in Trykon’s eyes.

“Emerging from hyperspace now!” Called a voice from the crew pits.

“All hands stand by for battle stations,” Ordered Zail, and though the words had volume they had no strength, no feeling.

The Sollamens Asteroid Field grew large in the forward viewport, an endless scene of rocks of all sizes and shapes.  In the distance, the Sollamens Pulsar gave light to the unremarkable system, but most important of all were the small Dominion picket ships that were visible at the field’s edge.

Almost immediately the small corvettes, faced with a Vast Empire Navy armada of thirty warships, turned to run.  At Serpent’s side, Farish Quinn gave needless commentary by saying, “They are withdrawing.”

Pherik heard the words and a pang of pain shot through him.  Standing beside me and stating the obvious, he thought, he’s just like Vagen was a XO. Oh Vagen, how could I have let you die?

“Do not pursue,” Said Serpent.  “Captain Trykon wants us to push on to the Gwodd LK Nale base.  It’s deep within the field and will take a while.  Inform me when we get there,” He said, and to the amazement of his bridge crew departed the command deck for the solitude of his office.

There was a battle about to happen, and Zail’s place was on the bridge, but until shots were fired, he just wanted to be alone.

OOC:

924 words.  A short one, but I didn’t want to drag the misery out too long.  You all get the message: Zail is broken.

After Action Report:  Serpent and the Brilliant arrive at Sollamens, but Zail is haunted by his meeting with Captain Trykon.  The CNW is deeply disappointed in Serpent for allowing Stormz’ kidnapping, and Serpent feels terrible for letting his friend down.  Worse, Trick has other plans for the Admiral’s rescue, denying Zail a chance to atone for his mistake.  Serpent is now at an all time low.

Dorn Day, Herf Hour minus one

A pair of tired yet still unwavering amber eyes stared at the similarly colored beverage seated on top of the simplistic desk found within the Wing Commander's office. The eyes, much like the drink itself, belonged to none other than the man himself. For the past two hours the senior pilot had retreated to the comfort of his own office where he was able to stop everything else and instead do nothing but think.

There was a lot to think about too. For starters there was the request Ensign Grey made of him prior to her departure to the Bloodmoon system and the Brilliant VSD waiting for her there. The man already made preparations to accommodate for that request but knew there was still quite some time  till he'd learn whether his help would actually be still required or not as far as the VENI operatives would be concerned.

Then there was the matter regarding all the transferred pilots aboard the Adjudicator. Given the short amount of time he had available as well as the quality and quantity of replacements he managed to woo to his own wing, the man couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. He took a sip of the clear liquor whilst he recalled his meeting with Trykon just the other day...

~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, mister Qorbin!" Wyl shouted from across the hall and in so doing drawing a few odd looks - Seth Qorbin's included. The blond Onderonian fully turned to face the approaching man and when he was close enough offered a half felt salute. "Cap'n!" he acknowledged the other's presence.

Upon hearing the word the other man that was following Seth - a fellow still dressed in a flight suit lacking any squadron patch - also straightened up and offered a salute. A proper salute which Wyl Trykon responded to with one of his own. "Who's this?" the ship's captain inquired not recognizing the new face.

Unlike most capital ship captains in charge of over seventy pilots under their indirect command, Trykon was the sort that actually went out of his way to know most of them. Even if he could not recall all their names or the squadrons they individually belonged to, the Kuati could at least recognize them for what they were. The man standing by his Wing Commander's side however was new however, the two of them never having met face to face before.

"Vornskr's newest member, filling in the spot left vacant after Bloodmoon", Qorbin began before properly introducing the other individual. Greetings and a few pleasantries were exchanged by the new pilot and ship captain - exchanges that may have looked strange to passerby crewemen, at least given the positions of the two men.

"I learned you also solved Chlovi's leadership issue as well?" Trick asked even though he already knew the answer to that question. "Indeed, I've finally managed to convince Krayt into joining the Blades - a position I assured him would provide him with both a worthy challenge as well as an opportunity too."

"What about the squadron's XO?" the Adjudicator's captain asked another question he already knew the answer of. "I left the call up to Krayt. His squadron, his calls - it was part of the arrangement we had before he agreed transferring. I did however suggest he keep the current one though... or at least exchange it with someone else that's already fought and survived Bloodmoon. That should help smoothen the transition..."

"Indeed, that would be for the best", Trykon nodded but remained silent for a few moments after that as if his mind drifted off to some other related aspect of their current discussion. "Anyway, I'm on my way right now to intrude on Strill's sim run. Would you care to accompany me?" the ship's captain asked with a smile that Seth could describe as no other way save mischievous.

A similar grin next spread across Seth's features. Part of it was due to learning that Trykon would re-enter a fighter's cockpit - even if merely a simulated one. Then again part of it was also because Strill would get such a surprise visit. A visit that was unlikely to end well on their behalf... "Sorry cap but I still have some issues I must deal with", the Onderonian began and considered excusing himself and turning away to go about his business.

Just then the man realized the two of them were not alone after all however. "If it's an ace you're looking for then I happen to have one right here however. And he happens to already be all geared up and ready to go!" Seth smiled as he looked at his newest squadron member. Turning to face the man once more Trykon smiled once more before nodding his approval and taking the man to the sim room.

~~~~~~~~~~

A shame the new fellow did not have a chance to prove himself, Seth thought as he took another sip of the drink he was still enjoying. Then again that was to be expected given the news of Stormz's abduction from right under their noses.

Granted they were indeed on the very front lines of war but to have the most important member of the Navy so exposed as to allow a mere handful of captured pilots to subdue him and make off with him from a humongous capital ship that was supposed to be the very symbol of Imperial might and strength... words alone were insufficient to describe the epic proportions of such a fiasco.

The Onderonian had served with Stormz in the past too and personally knew the Wookiee. Although his howling and constant need to have either a datapad with proper translation software installed or at least a protocol droid or some organic translator maybe was rather annoying... the alien himself was a fairly decent fellow as far as Seth was concerned.

That's what made their reality all the more grim however. Qorbin knew that Trick would try to rescue the Admiral. He also knew that the Dominion would in the mean time try and break him. Whilst he hoped that rescue would be possible the veteran pilot couldn't help but wonder what if we're too late? If that was the case then they would all need to be prepared to do that which needed to be done. In the interest of preserving Vast Imperial secrets, they could in turn be forced to turn their blasters and laser cannons unto the very man they were expected to ordinarily serve...

The blond officer took downed the whole glass upon thinking that, the taste helping him relax and at least to some extent help diminish the implications of such a course of action.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dorn Day, Herf Hour plus seven thirty

"Scanners are acting up. I think it m... ...ause of the pul...r." Similar communications were exchanged both by starfighter wingmates as well as the larger ships following close behind them. More than a full hour had gone by since Trykon gave the order to search the asteroid field and they found nothing suspicious yet - other than the lack of enemies, which was in itself rather suspicious actually.

I have a bad feeling about this, DeepSix's eyes narrowed as he maneuvered his fighter deeper into the asteroid field...

OOC:

WC: 1223
AAR: Short post to catch up with most events that had transpired thus far. Most of the post is a flashback detailing some interactions between the WC and SCAP as well as vaguely revealing the identity of the never mentioned Phantom pilot in Strill's sim arc. Will have more in a day or two...

OOC:

VENI NPC post

The trip to the warehouse felt rather stuffy given so many individuals were forced to fit in a craft comfortably design for maybe only half their numbers. For those not further encumbered by armors and the like things felt maybe a tad more bearable though; for those not having that luxury... QuaD did not even want to think about it.

"Now get out", the Resistance contact instructed and following the flow agent QuaD too left the confines of the landspeeder behind him... only to instead step into a more spacious area with a bunch of fellows aiming their weapons at his group - and himself personally. His hands subconsciously moved for his gun and a small yield thermal detonator. If a fight would break out anytime soon then he intended to make it a short one, taking out as many opponents as he could with as few wasted movements as possible.

His specially modified sniper rifle was still dismantled and safely kept within the small backpack he was carrying so he could only realistically rely on his .48 caliber slugthrower pistol strapped to his hip and assuming he'd have time to reach it the 22T4 hold-out blaster inside his left boot. The man knew that in their current state they were at a disadvantage but then again also knew that their superior skill sets and equipment could easily change that...

'Orders ma’am?" the veteran agent inquired just to be on the safe side. He did not want to be the first one to start shooting after all. Political fallout was often more of a pain to deal with than the simpler and more elegant repercussions employed by the military. Ensign Grey appeared to be of a similar mind as she likewise instructed the man not to start anything but instead just stay prepared.

"I am Premier Donnel Zaqarian", one of the men spoke as he stepped forward. QuaD's piercing glare instantly falling upon the man, measuring him from top to bottom, looking not as much for physical traits - which did not appear to be all that impressive to begin with - but instead checking for non-verbal tells. The politician stood straight, confident and unwavering. His expression similarly reflected his body language as well.

It was only when the two men's eyes met that QuaD could see a hint of fear and anxiety laying dormant underneath. Unlike most crooked politicians he had been sent to dispose of in the past the one now standing before him did not feel as rotten or dangerous however. Still, a time may yet come when Zaqarian's ambitions would prove a liability as far as the Vast Empire will be concerned. If and when that time would ever come QuaD wanted to be prepared...

Following the brief introductions that followed as well as the Premier's invitation to change locations, QuaD found himself part of Grey's entourage, along with Strings and Blade. The latter two were to be expected - Strings would come in handy during the negotiations that were bound to follow and Blade's knowledge of the local situation would help provide Grey with more insight into whatever propositions Zaqarian would make her and the organization she represented.

Now his presence there on the other hand... The man was not the best speaker and also knew next to nothing about the locals other than what he had read in the briefing and what he had seen on his way over. His role was thus immediately made apparent - Grey needed him around as leverage should things turn sour. In a smaller room with fewer guards his chances of pacifying everyone stood increased as a result.

The VENI agent waited for the group to split up, following Grey and the two other men at a short distance behind. He would've preferred to go out on his own and gain more first hand intel about his surroundings and the way the locals operated but then again meeting more key members of the Resistance wouldn't be all that bad either. After all he'd have a chance to assess their strengths, weaknesses and motives. He'd also be able to connect actual faces to foreign names... just in case some of those names would have to be erased in the future.

The side office the politician led them to looked more like a tiny bunker built inside the warehouse. The doors were reinforced, an electronic keypad with handprint detection stood by the door's frame and large DO NOT CROSS and AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY messages could be seen plastered around the entrance.

Zaqarian approached the keypad and after inputting a seven digit code, the man also placed his hand on the sensor area. A light buzz could be heard from the apparatus as it analyzed the handprint - a buzz that only lasted for a few moments as immediately afterward the doors sprang open and the politician stepped inside, followed by only two of his guards. Grey, Strings and Blade followed, with QuaD once more bringing up the rear - and from that position the final VENI agent couldn't help but notice how the few guards that had followed close behind him till then broke formation and instead took positions by the office's exterior.

Once inside the small room the experienced operative understood why as well. A few individuals were seated at a long table in the center of the room and all around them, hugging the walls and keeping their guns trained on the new arrivals, stood more security guards. The politician walked around the room and took the empty seat opposite them, inviting the VENI team to occupy the four prepared seats closest to the door.

Both Ensign Grey and agent Strings accepted the invitation - the first with masked apprehension and the latter with practiced ease. QuaD and Blade however remained standing, instead leaning against the wall, each agent on either side of the sole entrance to the office. If Blade did it because his armor would've made seating uncomfortable, QuaD instead decided on that course of action simply because he had more options standing up rather than seating down...

So this is the Resistance, the man thought as he checked each individual seated at the large table.

OOC:

WC: 1040
AAR: Just moving VENI plot forward a bit, providing a new location and a few descriptions of the surroundings. I know Serpent wants to deal with the discussions next so I'm stopping here for now.

OOC:

VENI NPC Post

“Please,” Said Premier Zaqarian, “Be seated.”  So saying he gestured to the large table that dominated the small office.  He had taken his place among the half dozen other Resistance leaders sat there, at their centre, symbolising that he was as close to a leader as the conspiracy got.

Grey and Strings sat down opposite the inner circle.  Behind them, eyeing the plethora of guards present, Blade and QuaD remained standing.  After a slight pause Zaqarian introduced his fellows.  Three were minor figures, a local politician, an Army officer, and a representative of the planetary police.

Then he reached the true leaders of the Resistance.  “This is Mottl Barristan,” He said, gesturing to a gaunt man, who seemed much older than he was.  Time in prison for his political beliefs (freedom and labour rights) had taken its toll on the man.

“And this,” Zaqarian continued, “Is Director Yavala of the Yavala Consortium”.  The indicated individual was a sharp contrast to Barristan.  Yavala was a rotund man with a red face, dressed in rich robes that seemed greatly at odds with a Resistance trying to keep a low profile.

Grey nodded to those present and introduced her people.

“A pleasure,” Said the Premier.  “So let’s get to it.  We are all here because we want rid of the Governor-General, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Said Grey.  “And we of VENI are ready to assist you.  The question is, how?”

It was Barristan who raised a hand to interject.  “Not so fast, Miss Grey,” He said, his strong voice at odd with frail body.  “Before we accept the help of the Vast Empire, we need to know the price of it.”

Director Yavala was nodding in agreement.  “Indeed.  While I am all for focusing on the here and now, I can’t help but ponder the future too.  Suppose we kill Karstok, what will the Vast Empire do then?”

Grey nodded.  She and her people had expected these questions, and so she turned to Agent Strings the political expert for an answer.

“Well,” Said the green-eyed near-human, “Obviously we are an expansion-minded regime, and the conquest of Dominion space is clearly on the minds of High Command.  I confess frankly that there is little that Naval Intelligence can do to dissuade them otherwise.  Is that a problem?”

Grey resisted a tight smile at the other’s words, and the reaction of the Resistance leaders.  They hid it well, but she could see the surprise in their eyes.  Obviously they had expected VENI to deny their ambitions.  Now that Strings had offered them the truth, he had the initiative in the conversation.

“It most certainly is,” Said Barristan, recovering the quickest of the three.  “We are not planning to be rid of one dictator merely to put another in his place.”

“Moff Kadann is not a dictator!” Protested Blade, on cue.  The man had learned his lines well, interjecting at just the right time.

“Quiet, Agent!” Snapped Grey, continuing the facade.  Strings had advised them to put on a show of in-fighting.  The idea was that the Resistance would see this and believe that the VENI team was less than united, and thus easier to manipulate and control.  When all the while, of course, it would be VENI that controlled them.

“What my colleagues mean to say,” Said Strings, putting on a show of being perturbed their outbursts, “Is that there is room to negotiate here.  The Vast Empire has the manpower and the desire to take the Dominion, but such an action need not be a bloody one.  Were Karstok to be... removed, and a new, more reasonable military leader to be installed, then the inevitable conquest of these worlds could be much smoother.  Perhaps even a peaceful absorption of your realm could be arranged.”

Exactly as they expected, Director Yavala’s eyes lit up.  “You would forgo a military invasion?” He asked, fat cheeks shaking as he spoke.

“Of course,” Said Strings with a shrug.  “The VE is currently in conflict with the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant, as well as the Dominion.  The less resources we expand on defeating you, the better.”

“And what of those of us who actively aided the Dominion?” Pressed the industrialist.  “How would you deal with them?”

Again Strings feigned a casual nonchalance that was not really there.  He had no more authority to speak for High Command than Grey did, but the experienced negotiator knew better than to tell the Resistance that.  “We can tell the difference between those who actively seek our demise, and those simply bowing to a dangerous totalitarian leader.  If you wish to continue your business empire under the VE then you will be most welcome.”

Yavala nodded, clearly pleased with this news but wary of accepting it at face value.  Grey knew that the businessman would have his doubts, but ultimately he would side with the VE.  He had no choice, after all.  One way or the other, the Dominion would fall, and he had to believe in an option where his factories were not reduced to rubble in the process.

Yavala went on to ask many more questions, and Strings proceeded to calmly answer them all.  He cited examples of other worlds conquered by the VE, which had seen its business leaders well rewarded for changed loyalty, and this pushed Yavala even further into trusting VENI.

“Would that tolerance extend to the politicians too?” Asked Premier Zaqarian after a while, making no effort to disguise his own self-interest in the answer.  The other politician, the leader of Tilsecara city council, was also interested.

“Who your planet elects is not the concern of the Vast Empire,” Said Strings firmly.  “If your voters forgive you for your support of Karstok, then so shall we.”

This was then followed by a barrage of questions by Zaqarian and the councilman, and again Strings used carefully selected examples to assure the Premier that his political career would be safe under VE occupation.

After half an hour both Zaqarian and Yavala, plus a few of the others, were listening intently to the VENI agent, and it was then that Barristan realised how out-manoeuvred he was.  His compatriots seemed to be going along with the Vast Empire’s plans, so he re-iterated his early protest.  “We do not need them,” He declared suddenly.  “We can be rid of Karstok and then put our own ruler in place.  We can find a fair and honest leader to fix our problems.  We will take your help, VENI, and then pledge ourselves to a non-aggression pact with you.  You have my word that we shall trouble your boarders no more, we’ll be neutral, but kowtow to you?  No, not interested.”

Grey watched the reaction of the other men, and they seemed immediately interested in the words of the philosopher and activist.

“There is no neutral!” Thundered Agent Blade.  “Don’t you get it?  Every regime in the galaxy is out to demolish every other regime, and it won’t stop until one reigns supreme over all others.”  He glanced around to make sure that everyone was paying attention, and then continued.  “The Dominion had its chance, and failed.  Now, we will take you in, peacefully, and give you a place in the Vast Empire.  And if you don’t join us voluntarily, some other regime will force you to join, and I doubt they’ll offer as generous terms as we will.  You cannot be neutral, get it?”

Silence followed his outburst, and Grey found herself surprised.  Blade’s entry into the conversation was meant to be another ‘uncontrolled’ sign of VENI’s supposed division, but to her delight the man had made quite a good point.

“We will work with you to depose Karstok,” Said Zaqarian at last.  “And when we are done, we will talk about formally ceding our worlds to the Vast Empire.”

Yavala nodded in agreement, and though Barristan did not, it was a done deal.

And with that issue provisionally settled for now, they got on with talking about Karstok.  And how to be rid of him.

OOC:

1342 words.  A talky post, settling the political angle of the upcoming assassination.

After Action Report:  Grey and her VENI team negotiate with the Restistance leadership.  The leaders of the group want to know what the VE plans to do after Karstok is dead, and Agent Strings confesses that the Vast Empire wants control of the Dominion worlds.  After a few assurances of tolerance, Premier Zaqarian and Director Yavala agree in general principle, though the third major leader, Mottl Barristan, is still not convinced.  The issue is now shelved and true planning of the downfall of Governor-General Karstok can now begin.

The battle for Gwodd LK Nale had been unsettling. From the news after the sim run was shut down to flying to meet the resistance and eventually securing the base, Makenna had felt herself get more and more frustrated. In the air they had met some TIEs but they had been nothing special. Any trained squadron could have taken them out, especially when it was obvious that the TIEs deployed were not the best of their crop. No. As most of the veterans had already been feeling, this was a trap. And if they knew it was a trap, then why the hell had they been left stranded on this asteroid?

In her mind she pictured the battle they had had in the air. Somehow Strill had managed to come together and fly somewhat like a unit despite all of the interesting new personalities. If there was anything she could at least feel optimistic about, it was the fact that the TIEs had acted as a real life training run. The people were still not completely settled with each other as a whole, but it was obvious that they were beginning to form that bond that they so desperately needed right now.

However, Makenna couldn’t push the optimism to the forefront of her mind. Usually, she made a habit of looking at the brighter parts of life despite knowing better. This time she couldn’t because everything here felt like a past she had not forgotten, and if this battle turned out anything like that one had, she knew that all of these people around her were as good as dead.

She wandered over to the technicians after talking to Joamer, telling them about his orders to paint Jexxel and Gundark. As she watched them get to work, she noticed Thatcher approaching her.

“I thought you were training with the troopers,” she stated simply.

“Break time. Can’t be trainin’ forever. You know you should come join us. You could scare a few of them off with your knife throwin’ skills,” he said in typical Thatcher style.

“Even if I wanted to, I left my knife back in that table on the Adjudicator. The chaos was so sudden after that sim that I completely forgot about it.”

“I did too,” Thatcher said, shrugging, “That Trykon guy sure got us movin’ fast.”

“No surprise. When the NCC gets kidnapped, it’s not exactly something you leave unanswered,” she scanned the area around her, watching as people milled around, carrying out different orders. This was not something she was used to, and she wondered how she had even held up in Joamer’s eyes. Her only experience so far had been in space with Chlovi.

At the thought of the squadron that was long gone by now, she whispered a silent prayer to them, hoping that they could come back from the heavy losses they had suffered at Bloodmoon.

“Well, if there’s anythin’ I’ve ever learned in life, it’s that you don’t jump into anythin’ without knowin’ what you’re in for. Our communications are bad now, and the fleet isn’t even here for us. Why does this feel like a huge oversight in command? If I had my mind with them...” but Thatcher trailed off, as if he suddenly noticed what he was saying. Makenna looked back at him, a bit surprised in his seriousness when the man had always been so want for attention.

“I don’t disagree with you,” she said finally. There was some tension emanating from him, “That story I told about my pirate band being massacred? It happened somewhat like this. We broke in easily and we all thought that we had it in the bag. Then, well as we had always said...”

“When darkness came and fires fell...” Thatcher whispered. Makenna’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him. If only she could see through to see his face, then she could know how to read him.

“And the pirates flew to hell. But how would you know that?” a hint of warning in her voice.

“It’s not the first time you’ve mentioned it. I heard you whisper it over the comm earlier,” Thatcher replied without hesitation, “Sounds like a part of a poem.”

“One left unfinished. No one exactly survived that battle,” Makenna stated, trying her best to remember if she indeed had whispered it over the comm.

“Or rather, you don’t know if they did,” Thatcher placed a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t see her dwell on it; not when they had a battle to fight soon, “Never give up hope and never give up searchin’. You know as well as I do that dwellin’ on those matters is a bad omen.”

She was struck with silence. Those words. They were almost the exact same words a friend of hers used to tell her. Tamran... If there’s anyone who I dearly miss more than Vanity, it is you.

“Now, as much as I would love to chat, I think you’d be mad at me for keeping me from some drills. After all, a criminal like me must be tamed or else I might shoot all y’all!” he laughed. ‘Kenna punched his arm lightly.

“Oh shut it,” she said and then noticed a man approaching her. He seemed to have recognized her with Joamer earlier.

“Ma’am,” he said being a bit more formal than necessary, “I wanted to speak to you in regards to the flux vortex,” he seemed to wait for her to give him permission to talk. Sighing to herself she told him to ‘go ahead’, “There are several mouse droids here. I think we can use them as comm relays.”

“That will help. How will that affect our range?”

“For the ground troops we can probably get another three or four klicks,” he replied. She glanced up to spot Cresh flight again, wishing there was something she could do for the pilots, but she knew that unless they had some way to get around a pulsar, nothing was going to work.

“Something is better than nothing,” she said, “If you think you can do it, get to it,” the young tech nodded and ran off.

Thatcher stood by watching, his mind somewhere else. Sure the tension of Gwodd LK Nale was thick, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. His mind was on more personal matters that he was trying to suppress but the longer he was around Makenna, the more he couldn’t help thinking about it. I can only do this for so long before it becomes obvious. I didn’t think hidin’ like this was goin’ to be hard.

“I’m going to go tell Joamer and then join Besh for some training,” Thatcher snapped out of his mind and focused on ‘Kenna, “And you’re right, if you don’t get over there right now, I will get mad at you. So get going.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess!” he chuckled and began to saunter away. Though his outlook was cheery, his mind was far from it, but he didn’t want to reveal it.

And little did he know that as he walked away Makenna was standing there watching him, her own thoughts on her mind. He’s just like him...

OOC:

WC: 1,204

AAR: Makenna reflects on how the battle for Gwodd LK Nale was way too easy. She tells some of the techs to paint Jexxel and Gundark's fighters to help prevent friendly fire. Thatcher then approaches Makenna and they talk. Eventually a tech comes to Makenna saying he found some mouse droids they can use to try to help with communications. She tells him to go ahead and then tells Thatcher to get back to training. As he leaves, Makenna feels more and more like Thatcher is someone she has known for a long time.

The time for “rest” was shortlived, faltering to only a little less than eight hours.  Yet, in the span of twenty minutes, the true colors of the battle that was to come were presently laid out on the long meeting table. The Commander in Chief of the Navy had been taken…

Taken.

Actually removed from the Brilliant.

The reaction of the Squadron was slow, reflecting how close to heart they took the “rest” order , but it sunk in shortly. Panic surged through their veins as the seriosness of what the Trandoshan had announced. However, the chance of actualy voicing their terrors was cut very short. The Chlovi commander would not have for them to react at any time, immediately continuing with his briefing and mission statement. The sheer anger that gleamed in his eyes was enough to keep the 50th silent as they took to the words and set themselves into a flight state of mind. Already prepared as instructed, the XO took to Krayt’s side as the squad dismissed to change.

--- --- ---

For the second time in two days, Cervidae Sandor found herself back inside of the hangars. The purpose of the first had been to establish a connection between herself and her new wingmate; the purpose of this trip there was to engage into a battle after a very short recovery break. Two days to rest, recover, and re-evaluate the war before the Sollamens… And this new situation wasn’t helping for a solid, reassuring report. Not only did what was to come in the upcoming days of battle define the outcome of what was to come against the Dominion, but the life of  Ph'rranix Krazanr, the Naval Commander in Chief, was at stake.

Had there been any time between the briefing and the quick walk to the hangars, the possibility for a swarm of questions about how the supposed Admiral’s Own Brilliant had allowed for such an abduction to occur. Cervidae was completely alarmed with the idea, but there was no time to press for questions that had no answers. If she managed to return from the asteroid field, the XO would certainly be one of the first to question such a tragedy. Especially before an already important mission against the ID…

…- If? Her own thoughts had caught her offguard, sending a chill through her blood as the brunette began pulling her hair into a low-laying bun during her own determined walk down alarm-sounding halls that flashed with the threat of destruction on the horizon. C’mon, Cerv, get over yourself. All the questions that can be answered when you get back. Good? Good. She was hardly the type to panic – typically very good at maintaining her own emotions during heated situations – and she could control herself very well when others surrounded her, but the idea that even the NCC could be taken as prisoner had the Chlovi’s XO feeling a bit anxious about facing the ID again.

The moment – however – that the pair had reached the hangars, the sight of crewmen and mechanics running to get freshly improved TIE Interceptors ready for their new assignment. The atmosphere was alive with pressure, soon recieving battle-ready Chlovi members that fell into line to their commanders. Yet, very early on, Krayt picked on a problem that he wasn’t going to deal with for much longer.

As the Interceptors underwent their final mechanical checks, the Chlovi flyers recieved a quick taste of what was to become a regular commanding style of the Trandoshan – even the commands for a straight line formation felt authoritarian. The XO shifted uncomfortably as the man who stood infront of her reminded the squadron exactly what type of discipline he was to expect from everyone, especially the green pilots. Krayt hissed at them, demanding their attention to his rules as Cervidae watched the squadron comply to his requests.

A small – very small – part of her had the vague whisper of doubt coloring her views. She saw faces, recognized names, but there was a small undercurrent of regret with every person she identified. The squadron, now repleneshed with reserve pilots, had seemed to shuffle well enough that the scars of 50% casualties didn’t reflect on in everything about them. But, that’s what had her doubting this flight. A new pair in Leadership positions didn’t assure any sort of safety net for this squadron. If life wasn’t fair, what made them think war was any different?

Silently sighing, Cervidae’s gray eyes focused on those of her wingmate. Like their SCO, his eyes shone green in the lights of the hangars, but much softer. He caught her gaze on him, moving his attention off their alien commander to hold the staring contest between them. The light in his eyes reflected a reassurance, as if to say that things couldn’t be predicted but this wouldn’t be the same as before. A small smile cracked at the XO’s lips as a way of saying thanks before Quick Fire moved his eyes back to Krayt.

The young woman stood at full attention now as her smile droppe to reflect what three years of staring at the ceiling: a pokerface to rival that of vetran flyers. It held through the dismissal of flyers and through the Trandoshan’s final bit of commands – much to her own surprise. The commander held her higher than she was expecting and it warmed her blood. She would not disappoint him on this mission; it was absolutely out of the question to fail. If she could manage to bring herself back after their first encounters with the Saints, the chance of doing it again was stronger. Satisfied with her response, Krayt made his way to the painted Cobalt one and she scurried off to revisit her new TIE.

Cervidae placed on her helmet before quickly decending into the limited space of the cockpit of her Cobalt as she sprung it into life. Button flips and nob turns while her eyes danced over the healthy vitals of her purring beast. Besh Flight’s Cobalt 5 filled the young human’s blood with a euphoria that was becoming a sedative to her nerves. Whatever was going to happen, would happen. There was nothing more that she or the SCO could do except help the others respond to whatever would happen. Even the interference didn’t bother her as much as she expected it to. As long as she could still see her wingmate and squadron, there shouldn’t be too much of an issue. If they flew together, the chances of having any problems limited greatly. And in the asteroids, how much could really be hiding?

The chatter on the comms cut for the Captain’s voice rung in their ears, announcing Gwodd LK Nale’s capture and his request for them to comb through the asteroids. Krayt took to responding and establishing Chlovi’s understanding. Interference would make it difficult, but they could handle it. As long as they flew together…

Cobalt One took a moment to finalize his craft before leading the way into the darkness of space. With only a line of sight and a squadron formation to lead the way, the 50th Starfighter Squadron took itself into the vastness of ID domain of the Sollamens. The silence took them in and crept around the squadron as they tested the profound emptiness of the asteroids. 

OOC:

WC: 1222
AAR: Cervidae reacts to the surprise of the kidnapping and prep for battle fairly professionally; She is still too green to be the "ideal" XO of a Squadron, but she is certainly learning quickly on how to help improve the entire team. The new Commander already sees some promise in her which is a reassurance to the brunette that she could -- perhaps -- survive in the upcoming battle... All while avoiding a repeat of last flight's 50% Casualty rate. Following Krayt's lead, the 50th flies their cleared TIE's into the silence of the Sollamens.

Took me longer to write this than I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting a visitor so they've managed to take up a LOT of my time. Anywhosims, Chlovi's in SPACE, GAIS. ENJOY. <3 

It's your fault.

Shut up.

The Saints ripped through your squadron like a gundark through human flesh.

There was nothing I could do!

Karl, John, and Zorne are all dead. Tony's in a coma. Justy's been court martialled. You failed them.

Shut up!

Even your squadron commander lost a leg and resigned. Remember the last time that happened?

Cayden... She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. No! Just... go the frak away...

It's all your fault. If you'd been a better pilot, a better officer, none of this would have happened. They would all still be alive and well. Why did you think you could make things better?

"I said shut up!"

Maroy's agonized shout echoed throughout the sterile, brightly lit room. The echoes assaulted her from both sides of her senses, and as she turned toward the glass wall to her left. Her bloodshot, sleepless eyes widened as her passive-faced observer tapped away at his datapad.

She ran up and pounded the glass, hoping, somehow, that he would listen. "Stop! What are you... No!" She screamed. "I'm not... I'm not insane! I can fly, I swear! Please, listen to me! I can fly!" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I'm... I'm not... insane..." She broke down into tears and slumped to the floor.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Trust me, I'm not going away any time soon.

-----

Lunei let out a long sigh as she remembered her latest visit to the Adjudicator's Psychological Care ward. She'd realized Maroy was on edge before the battle over Bloodmoon, but she'd never expected that her friend would actually snap. The Twi'lek had been a deranged mess when Lunei had dragged her out of the damaged Interceptor. At first the deck medic had insisted to the squadron that it was just a concussion, but after a few hours it became apparent that something, somewhere, in the Twi'lek's three-part brain had broken. She'd been led off to the psychologists and Cervidae Sandor, one of the pilots Maroy had hand-picked for Chlovi, had been appointed XO in her place.

None of the other pilots had known the former XO that well, so the loss was blended together with the rest of the casualties in the eyes of most of the squadron members. But not for Lunei. She had never really seen a need to have friends, but Maroy had roused up some of the woman's pity, and eventually, her friendship. Now that the Twi'lek was gone, Lunei was alone. And the loneliness bit into her soul, much more than it ever had over the course of her career. Her only other real friend in the Navy, one Jak Harkiss, had been downed over Bloodmoon and was officially pronounced dead after the moon's base exploded. Without his charisma and mischievous personality, the Chlovi barracks felt so empty. Now, deep into Dominion territory, Lunei was surrounded by strangers.

The three alien pilots that had been taken off the roster for the Bloodmoon mission were brought back to help cover the losses. Talen Robavu, the Duros storyteller, had perfected a wonderful but sombre retelling of the VE-Dominion war that left a few of them in tears ever time. Three-Eyes, the outgoing Gran, provided some measure of relief with his constant, friendly, unforced smile. Finally Kaitlyn Batnac, the hot-headed but rational Cerean, had been training non-stop in the simulators bringing the other reserve pilots up to combat standards and was nearly considered an ace herself. With the transfer of two more reserve pilots, and one of Dunn's old army squadmates, the squadron was back to a full twelve pilots. Only the replacement Squadron Commander had a rank higher than Petty Officer; all of the pilots were still very, very green. Lunei herself had more battlefield experience than most of them combined, but a lackluster performance during the Bloodmoon engagement had left even her doubting her ability with an Interceptor.

The sudden arrival, and subsequent capture, of the Naval Commander in Chief took everyone by complete surprise. The fleet had been scrambled, abandoning whatever plans the fleet commanders had hatched in favor of a mad dash to rescue the Wookiee captive. Chlovi's new Trandoshan SC, Krayt, had quickly imposed his way of doing things, and Lunei had complied as quickly as she could without question. She had gotten used to obeying quickly and without question during her time with the efficient but occasionally abusive Blackguard bomber squadron, and Krayt's tone evoked the same response. An old saying which had become part of the core of her personality came to mind: 'a reed before the wind lives on, while mighty wroshyr trees do fall'. The strong learn to bend, while the weak simply break. The phrase seemed to sum up Krayt's philosophy in a nutshell.

Chlovi squadron glided through the asteroid field in patrol formation, relying on line of sight and each other to keep from getting lost in the intense solar radiation and unfamiliar landscape. The Dominion had laid a trap for them... the only question was when they would spring it.

OOC:

WC: 875
AAR: Maroy has been in the psych ward since the Bloodmoon battle and has been declared unfit for duty. Lunei Taneg is still on active duty in Chlovi, visiting Maroy and hanging out with the three reinstated alien Chlovi pilots. Chlovi's scouting run is underway as ordered.

Anita watched the Trandosha, silent as she followed behind the two men. She did her best to school her features into the blank mask she usually wore so well. Making sure no one was watching, least they take it for a show of weakness, she brought her hand up to the tender spot on the back of her head. She would poke at it for a few seconds before shaking her head and turning her attention to the reptilian as Cerv said something. “Sir. As the Executive Officer of the 50th Vast Imperial Starfighter Squadron, it is my honor to welcome you to the Squadron. We’re ready to follow you when we fly. We expect you will help us achieve great things.” Her lips twitched ever so slightly. She hadn’t gotten much of a chance to give her congratulations to her wing mate, former wing mate. She’d been doing her best to staying out of the way, having a feeling that Cerv would probably start worrying about her, and possibly order her to bed. She would have hated it, but that order coming from Cerv would have been one she had to follow. Not to give the woman some peace of mind, not because the woman had earned some level of respect, although she had, but because the woman was in her chain of command. Still, the woman had been too busy the past two days to act as her mother hen, for which Twitch was thankful.

“And achieve you will.” Twitch was tempted to cover her ears. The reptilian was a great man, and a legend amongst commanders, but that hiss was going to grate on every nerve she had. She remained motionless in her at attention posture. The way the other members of the squadron were shifting, her mind started over thinking, over analyzing. How many others had any sense of military discipline in their families? You would think they would all know better at least, just from being in the academy. So far, the only one that she could tell that was doing any pride to the level of discipline this creature would expect from them was the silver haired morsel she’d bumped into. Poor fools were gonna have a nasty wake up call.

“But, there isss a difference between you in here and the Greensss out there: you are Chlovi. The Chlovi Cat isss a blood-thirsssty killer on Nyriaan, to which you will be their equivolent in your TIEsss. Lassser cannonsss will be your teeth and clawssss asss you prove to me in the Sssollamensss that you will work assss a pack. Insssubordination of any kind isss not looked upon kindly and I will not tollerate it. I will not asssk twice for sssomething; and. when I sssay ‘Jump’ you willl asssk me ‘How high?’ I have been asssssigned to create model flyersss out of you and I will ssssucceed. Dissscipline and efficiency will become sssynonymoussss with ‘Chlovi’, men, when I am finissshed with you.” She was tempted to add an “and women” but wisely bit her tongue this time. She was far to tired to even open her mouth at this point. As the order for rest came, she sighed. If only she could. It really hadn’t been like she hadn’t been trying, but the only time she ever felt rested was when she was flying or sparring, and her body couldn’t handle either right now.

As they were dismissed, she felt her stomach growl. Food. When was the last time she had eaten actual food, not ivs? Hey Fletcher? she called to her new wingmate as she passed. You want any food before we head back to the med bay? I’d like to discuss a few things before we fly. part of her hoped the girl would say no. Instead, the girl stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. Great. Twitched gave a strained smile and offered a hand. let me formally introduce myself then. I’m Anita Cafall…I’m your new wing man.

Fletcher took the offered hand with a nod. Fletcher. She fell into step with Twitch’s slow gate, taking notice of the way she was nursing her shoulder, trying to keep it from moving to much as they walked. By all rights, it should be in a sling to do just that, keep it immobile. But Twitch had thrown up one hell of a racket when she’d been dragged in by their now XO, and Fletcher was not going to say anything to the red head “So…what did you want to talk about?”

Twitch lead the way to the chow area as she tried to formulate her thoughts. It took her a moment to register the question. “Oh. Um, well…I think it’d be a good idea if we set up a way to communicate with out communication. The way that the saints jammed our sensors, they could have easily jammed our communications as well. Between that, the nebula we did only a few days ago to graduate, and the reading that I’ve done on the Sollamens, well…it’s possible that we might not be able to communicate well so…” she trailed off.  Stick with it Cafall, do not say never mind. You’ve started this little inquiry, time to see it through with confidence. It is not a bad plan. If she says no, so what? Her eyes did not betray the thoughts, the set of her shoulder gave away the opposite, that in fact, that she was confident in this plan.

Cabby gave her a contemplative look before smile. “you mean like gambler tales a tilt of the head to the left means you’ve got a few aces or so where as a tilt to the right means you got nothing?

Twitch relaxed and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and nodded. Yea, exactly. Only you know, using our craft. Was also thinking some sing language and motions that we can spot from each other’s cock pit windows or something. I just don’t relish the idea of going into those asteroids without assurance that we can stay in touch you know? I don’t know how you did in the nebula simulator, but, me, well I didn’t do as well as I would have liked.” She was being overly modest, as usual. She did fine, better than 75% of her fellow students, but that was the thing with her, she was always afraid that her best wasn’t good enough in the eyes of those who were looking at her, and so, she was never satisfied.

I like your idea, but there’s one problem. The way that the cock pit windows are, we’d have to be flying right at each other. While you don’t seem to have a problem with that, I don’t relish the idea of constantly playing chicken with you, just to try to communicate.

Twitched frowned. Damn, she hadn’t thought about that. She’d be so pleased in her idea she had totally forgotten about the inefficacy when it came to the actual interceptor. “true. I forgot about that.” she didn’t take the chicken comment to heart. She didn’t much relish playing chicken with her wingmate either. It was one thing playing the game with the enemy, but she wanted to bring Cabby back alive, not dead. She grabbed some food and followed the girl to a table. what about using the lights?

“I don’t see how. Again, there’s the same problem. You can’t really see out to the side. One of us could fly slightly in front, but the person in front wouldn’t be able to see the person in back, and our new commander seems like the type who would roast us alive if we broke formation just to get in front. Unless we told him about our little communication project but I would hold off on that one for a while till he trust us a little more…Here’s a crazy idea what about our lasers?”

Twitch nodded. Again, Cabby had a point she took a bit of her food. well…we should still come up with our own little body language…for the hell of it…call it a bonding experiment. she smiled hopefully. At the mention of a crazy idea, Twitch arched a brow then laughed. [b “I like it. how will we tell during combat though?[/b]

Eight hours later found Twitch hurrying into the briefing room. She had actually gotten a little bit of sleep this time, the discussion between her and Cabby having helped to ease her mind somewhat. As she stood against a wall, arms folded, she couldn’t bring herself to care about their dead end with figuring out how to use the interceptor as a way to communicate. It was a dead end for now, but she was sure given enough time, they would figure it out. For now they were stuck at the beginning, and that was with no way to communicate when communications went down. She closed her eyes, wishing she was still asleep. Her mind had finally shut down enough, back into that calm state of meditative silence that she usually only achieved when flying or sparring, and she hadn’t had any nightmares. It had left her numb to any feelings. Or maybe she was just tired enough and the brain could only maintain a high level of adrenalin for so long before it said enough. Either way when reptilian green eyes meet her multi colored ones, she didn’t even flinch just returned it with an apathetic look of her own. Her head tilted to the side as he addressed them. She listened, and traded a glance with Cabby.

Twitch had been tempted to flying a few simulator rounds with her, not any actual missions, just open space so they could practice flying with each other, but Cabby had things she had needed to do after they were done eating, and Twitch had realized just how badly she needed sleep. So although they had spent an hour or so talking about tells and how to transitions those tells into their craft they had yet to put theory to any real test. She turned her attention back to the reptilian, hoping her wingman didn’t see the worrying that was starting to slip back out of the numb abyss and back into her thoughts.

A few minutes later, Twitch was the first to appear by her interceptor. She had been afraid that the new commander would have heard about her rebellion of the last few days, or that, despite her best behavior since the threat, the medical orderlies had followed through with the threat and told him she wasn’t healthy enough to fly. She had a relieved look in her eyes that he had not order her to stay behind. Whether or not that was because he hadn’t heard, didn’t care enough to punish her by denying her her wings, or just thought that he was going to need everybody he could get even if they were close to broken, the latter being the most likely, she didn’t care. She made herself a silent promise to not throw this gift in his face, whatever his reasons for it were.

She watched with disapproval and disgust as they moved with laziness, un hurried. Sweet hell, it was almost like they’d never gone through the academy, or if they had, they had completely missed the classes about Naval discipline.  She was embarrassed to find that she was the only one to actually voice understanding with a yes sir when he asked if he was understood. She didn’t give it a second thought however as he order them to their fighters. “hello beautiful” she actually petted the interceptor before starting it up. She ran through the preflight check list with the instinct of a seasoned flyer, second guessed herself, and checked it again. Anxiety made her do it a third time before she was satisfied that she had not missed anything. She was about to run it again when the order to finalize the preflight checks came through.  She hesitated a moment, hand hovering over one of the switches before she pulled it away. She was being ridiculous. If she didn’t find anything with three full checks, she wouldn’t find anything on the third. “cobalt eight reads you loud and clear sir”

Something was poking at her instincts with a sharp stick, making her, well, twitchy. It could be that someone had actually managed to kidnapped one of their superiors from his own ship, it could be the imagined fate she was trying to not imagine, of said superior, that if any of them went down, they would meet the same fate. Tortured for information, and even possibly for their captors own sadistic fun. She shuddered as she lunched. If she went down, she would go down fighting. But she didn’t think those were it. rather, she chalked it up to the asteroids themselves, and the expected inability to communicate with Cabby. It was going to be the nebula all over again. The calm of space, the smooth lunch of her fighter soothed her own whirling brain.

Sensors weren’t picking anything up, but that didn’t mean diddly squat. The natural radiation from the asteroids was running interference. Okay, nothing to worry about, she knew that was going to happen. She made sure to keep her eyes open and scanning around her and Cabby. As the formation came around an asteroid, she paled. Right there in front of them was the enemy fleet. Right, crazy ideas…she looked to the side that she knew cabby was flying on and shook her head. ” ready? no reply came. Damn, she had really been hoping she was wrong with that one.

OOC:

word: 2311

AAR: Twitch and Cabby meet and talk about way to communicate with each other when shit hits the fan. they agree on teaching each other body language and sign language, for the heck of it as it would be impractical in flight, due to the way the cock pit windows don't allow wing men to look at each other.

After several idea, Cabby gives the crazy idea of using their lasers in a mores code sort of way.

Krayt had been expecting something bad the moment comms went dark. He had been talking with the XO before the sudden surge of static that cut him and Chlovi off from each other.. Krayt snarled a few curse words in Dosh, believing it to be his communications' systems that messed up. However, he soon realised - after two diagnostic checks coming up green - that it was not his comms. To the left he could see his wingman, Lunei, flying perfectly in formation. Something wasn't right here.. His green eyes dashed over his controls and sensor screens, trying to figure out just what was wrong. It was then that the squadron rounded the asteroid. There were not many things that could surprise the reptilian Squadron Commander - not even the sight of the fleet inexorably advancing through the asteroid field toward the VE's fleet. Even so, it was not what he had been expecting. There was certainly a fair distance between the squadron and the ID fleet, but at the rate they were going Chlovi would reach the enemy formation long before anyone else - never a favourable idea. Even given his arrogance, the Trandoshan SCO would never lead their squadron into certain death.

With that in mind, the experienced Squadron Commander checked his readouts - they told him that there was some sort of electromagnetic interference preventing him from using most of his sensors. He'd figured that out on his own, but what he was looking for was a map of where they'd been when the sensors went dark in relation to everything else. He pulled it up on screen, showing their location now and then, judging by flight trajectory and speed. Baring his teeth, the Trandoshan SCO took a short, 25 degree turn, leading Chlovi off on such an angle that they would enter a more treacherous asteroid formation ahead and to the left of the incoming Imperial Dominion armada. This would shield them from the fire of the capital ships and hide them from the Imperial Dominion, even if they had found a way to overcome  the sensor interference. The problem with this manoeuvre was that it left Chlovi blind - literally and figuratively. They had no way of knowing where the armada was or where any incoming hostiles were, thanks to the fact that the asteroids were so thick where Krayt was heading..

He had another, darker fear that he did not wish to express - such tight manoeuvring meant that they may be blind, but also forced into advanced formations, stuff he knew the majority of Chlovi was not trained for. The Trandoshan clenched his razor-sharp teeth. Better to lose one or two from collisions than all of them from a head on attack on the enemy fleet. The problem with 'flying blind' was that TIE Interceptors could not see backwards. The only way they could see what was behind them was through sensor technology - now jammed thanks to this dastardly asteroid field - or through what was known as a Crazy Iyven, where the ship in question did a full three hundred and sixty degree turn. Given the usage of sensors, the Crazy Iyven was generally made obsolete.. but maybe, just maybe it was what was needed here. For the moment, Krayt could see that Lunei was still on his wing, which meant that, more likely than not, the rest of the squadron was still following, unsure of what else they could do.

Beyond Lunei, Krayt still caught glimpses of the approaching armada - the intervals between which where getting longer as the asteroids thickened. Finally, at full speed, his TIE Interceptor - cyan stripes and all - made it into the portion of the asteroid field that had a significantly larger number of asteroids in a significantly smaller area. From the first few seconds into this tighter location, Krayt was forced to hurl his TIE Fighter into a dive to avoid a cockpit-sized rock, subsequent asteroids necessitating a barrel roll. As he sped through the treacherous maze of asteroids, Krayt thought he heard an explosion - but that was impossible, even idiots knew that there was no sound in space. Perhaps he thought his TIE vibrated.. possible, but if it was from outside sources again, vibrations didn't exactly carry through space. The Trandoshan Squadron commander dodged asteroids left and right, slowly angling to the port side, leading the squadron toward where the ID fleet would be.

Thinking he saw something, Krayt narrowed his eyes - a flash of grey here and there told him something was up seconds before two TIE interceptors appeared out of nowhere, spitting green death from their wingtips. An ambush! Krayt snarled as he narrowly missed two blasts from the incoming TIE fighters, lighting them up with his own laser cannons. While he had no way of locking on, he didn't need to - every TIE Pilot should know how to fire manually. It was difficult but before long his blasts were rewarded with a fireball of orange and yellow, marking one down. More bolts of green energy streaked past him as Lunei fired, her blasts impacting the second TIE's wingtip, sending it into a deadly spin which resulted in an asteroid collision. Krayt wove left and right to avoid the debris, coming around another asteroid to see at least an entire flight of standard TIE fighters - not interceptors this time. He would have engaged his communications to order Chlovi into action, but he had no idea how that would work given the interference. Instead, he rocketed toward the enemy TIEs, their flat solar panels making them far less agile and versatile than the Interceptors that Chlovi flew.

One was struck by Lunei on the head-to-head pass, as VE and ID forces alike passed each other, before Krayt and Chlovi came around and broke formation, each picking their own targets as they began a dogfight in this small gap in the asteroids.. He could see out of the corner of his eye that some of the Chlovi members had 'ganged up' against ID fighters, given that there was no way to indicate ownership of any fighter through comms.. He growled at this inefficiency - one for one should see them to victory easily against stock standard TIE fighters. Then again, he saw only four TIE fighters, compared to Chlovi's 12. Wait, no.. 6.. 7.. 8.. 12! Krayt noticed each of the standard TIEs appearing out of the asteroid field. Sure enough, Chlovi was facing a full squadron - a rare thing given that the ID fleet lost a lot of their TIE fighters in the battle and probably had little time to restock - and Krayt was determined to lead them into the fray.

Picking his own target, Krayt opened his throttle wide and shot toward it, only slowing down as the less manoeuvrable variant threw itself into a turn. Krayt tracked it easily, getting a lead on it as he turned ahead of it and firing half a dozen or so blasts of superheated emerald energy that ripped into the unshielded cockpit. He was rewarded with another fireball. No emotions flickered across his scaly features now, just efficiency as he picked his next target - it looked like Lunei needed help.

OOC:

Wordcount: 1,215. So it begins!

AAR: Krayt's comms and sensors go dark and he soon realises it isn't a failure in his fighter. Coming around a large asteroid, he catches a glimpse of the ID armada heading their way - while Chlovi is still a significant distance from the main VEN fleet. Flying head on into the guns of their Capital ships would be suicide.. Krayt chooses to head for a tighter asteroid formation, forcing Chlovi to adapt to the rapid twists and turns required to not only keep up with him, but avoid the asteroids and stay alive. To top it all off, they're ambushed by two TIE interceptors - easily destroyed - and subsequently, an entire squadron of standard TIE fighters. Krayt's marked and destroyed his target and now, like a typical predator, is searching for more.

ORDERS: Chlovi, you are currently locked in a battle with 12 TIE fighters. They're completely standard, without shields and without ace status. Easy pickings, huh? Not really. They've trained day in and day out to coordinate amongst themselves without communications and sensors, whereas Chlovi is quite blind. You'll be able to out fly them, but will definitely have trouble adapting.. though I hear we're good with non-verbal communications

In any case, engage and destroy the 12 TIE fighters within this gap in the asteroid field. Protect your wingman, and make sure to note just how difficult you're finding being put to the test this harshly after such a sudden transition from a lazy recon flight

POSTING!