Dressed down in their casual gear, the four members of the Imperial Starfighter Corps were sitting aboard the top of Steel Nine, the TIE/sa Bomber assigned to the shortest of the four pilots. One, a tanned male with a scarred face and what appeared to be a missing leg, looked with ice-cold eyes over the Sabaac cards in his hand at the other two pilots. The shorter one was human, with pale skin and long black hair. The upper part of her flight suit was resting around her hips, and her upper body was covered by a jet-black sleeveless shirt.

The corner of her lip was curled up ever so slightly in an enigmatic smile, but it didn’t quite reach her brown eyes. Her silver bomber’s ‘Wings’ badge, pinned to her shirt, glinted in the artificial light from the floodlights up above and flashed in the male pilot’s eyes for a moment, making him blink. The petite woman was Jeanne Nobel, nicknamed ‘Janissary’ after an ancient order of warriors that she had nothing to do with. She had taken pity on the crippled pilot and taken him under her wing, teaching him how to pilot bombers. Also, she was bluffing.

The other pilot, however, was a complete mystery to him. Completely hairless and so pale he imagined he could see the slightest colouration of purple veins under her skin, the Umbaran bore an expression as impassive and mysterious as the nebula that surrounded her homeworld. Her pale, delicate fingers seemed barely able to hold up her cards, but it didn’t do to underestimate the highly secretive and manipulative Umbaran people, and Aurora Leandar, one of Jeanne’s flight members, was as ambitious and ruthless as they came. He had little doubt that she was the one most likely to win today.

The last of the four pilots was only slightly shorter than the male, with light brown hair kept in dreadlocks that framed a tanned and freckled face and green eyes that seemed to him to be nothing less than a pair of SFS L-s9.3 Laser Cannons, and they were locked right onto him. Just a day before, she had been one of his subordinates, but now they were equals, and it from the determined set of her mouth and the slight, cocky grin that occasionally tugged at it, she didn’t plan to go easy on him. She was probably bluffing.

OOC:

Word Count: 400
AAR: Sam Dunn joins two members of Krakana Squadron and Cabby for a game of Sabaac in the hangar, during the period in between Chlovi's dismissal to get some rest, and the kidnapping of StOrmZ.

This is a collaborative story between Dunny and Cabby, and in it, we will both be demonstrating understanding of the Gunnery skill, and individually ensuring we reach the minimum word count of 750. The first few posts will be purely CD and setting the scene.

One scarred hand reached up to stroke at the stubble on his chin as the male pilot leaned his head back, feeling the ligaments in his neck pop as he rolled it a little, easing some of the tension there. His face was set into a calm, casual little smile, as if he didn’t really care one way or another how the game went. The truth was, that was exactly the case; Sam Dunn did not care one iota if he won or not. He was already the richest member there, sitting on 1,500,000 credits, with more on the stocks.

Given that the highest possible number you could get in Sabaac without bombing out was 23, and the male pilot was holding 21 points worth of cards in his scarred, tanned hand, it was a little bit difficult to maintain his casual indifference. The real possibility of winning quite a few credits did that to just about anyone, but the disgraced former leader of the 50th Vast Imperial Starfighter Squadron sought a prize far more valuable than mere credits. He didn’t’ bother looking at his cards again; he already knew what he had, and glancing at them wouldn’t help any.

Jeanne had folded with a dismal -12, and sighed visibly at the prospect of lost credits. Glancing at Cabby, she decided to break the silence that had descended upon the game with a question: “So Fletcher, you flew during Bloodmoon with Dunn, yes?” The former commander tried not to wince at the question, remembering how nearly comatose Elizabeth Fletcher had been but a scant few hours earlier. Her expression fell so sharply and suddenly that Dunn was expecting to hear a sonic boom. He saw her open her mouth, then close it again, and decided to bail the girl out.

“Yeah, one of the few that managed to outfly the 128th long enough to bring her Interceptor back in one piece. Outflew even me – it was bloody impressive.” He said, nudging her a little with his elbow to try and jolt her out of the memories he could just tell were starting to overwhelm her. She looked a bit jarred, then shook her head, appearing to banish the memories and sending one of her dreadlocks flying towards Sam’s face. In an attempt to break the sudden oppressive atmosphere, he overreacted in the most spectacular way possible.
“CRIKEY!” He exclaimed loudly.

Leaning swiftly backwards and out of the way, he appeared to ‘accidentally’ lose his grip on his cards, which fluttered to the floor at his feet. Fletcher’s slight, pained smile grew more solid and real as the Timbra Ottian looked at the cards at his feet, a good half of them face-up, and realized that technically, he had just folded a near-perfect hand. He crossed his hands in exaggerated grumpiness and huffed.
“Well, I guess that’s me out too.” He grumbled, leaving the game between only Cabby and Aurora, the mysterious Umbaran bomber pilot. Really, it was anyone’s game now.

“So what happened?” The question came from the Aurora, and Sam had a nasty suspicion that she was attempting to actually make Fletcher so depressed that she lost the will to win the game. His eyes narrowed a little at the thought of such an underhanded tactic, and he decided to answer that one himself. It wasn’t fair to ask the kid what had gone wrong – it had been her first battle, for crikey’s sake. If anyone was going to have to relieve the events, it should at least be the one whom was mostly responsible for the disastrous defeat.

“We lost before we even went out there. It was my stupid decision to hold the nonhuman members of our team in reserve – because of the damn anti-human plague and all. If any of our team was forced to bang out and end up on the planet, better that they were someone who wouldn’t choke and die instantly. At least…that’s what I thought.”
He paused for a moment, shaking his head as he remembered his ‘life saving’ decision. Stupid bloody idiot, he thought to himself.
“We weren’t ready. Too few veterans and not enough time to prepare the new recruits…”

“We just weren’t ready. The 128th ripped into us like a ripe pekka fruit. Jammed our sensors and comms to make sure we didn’t see them coming, then ambushed us from out of the sun. They were just…better. Better trained, better seasoned, and probably better equipped too – their Interceptors were definitely faster and more agile than ours. We were a green unit, an we came up against aces. Doesn’t take Admiral Ackbar to figure out how that fight was gonna go.”
As he said it, as he sorted through the battle in his mind, he felt the slightest bit better.

OOC:

WC: 800 Words
AAR: Sam Dunn helps Cabby get back on her feet a little, before telling the members of Krakana Team what happened at the Battle of Belgaroth, and why the 50th lost so badly. One thing is for sure – he won’t allow himself to make those mistakes again.

Sam Dunn’s only reaction to the pathetic hand that Fletcher had just put in front of them was to raise an eyebrow slightly, then wink slyly at the hairless Umbaran that his former subordinate had just completely outplayed. A scarred hand pushed up against his forehead as he started to chuckle softly, amused at Aurora’s defeat. It was always good to see the smug taken down a peg, and the rebellious side of Sam couldn’t help but smile.
“Addiction’s a powerful thing.” He uttered softly in between chuckles, and through his fingers he could see that although Aurora’s face was totally impassive, she was blushing on the inside.

“Sounds like you two really went through hell out there.” Jeanne said softly as she reached out to shake Fletcher’s hand, smiling warmly. After a moment’s hesitation, the younger pilot took the hand and shook it. Good, Sam Dunn thought to himself as he watched. The more friendships this lot had, the better. He leaned back a little and nodded to himself.
“Yeah, we got mauled. They were able to jam our sensors and catch us napping. I don’t think they missed a shot, either. We were able to evade pretty well, but they easily outshot us.” Sam said softly, almost as if to himself. He was surprised when it was Aurora that responded next.

The enigmatic bomber pilot simply fixed both him and Cabby with her impenetrable gaze and posed the question that he should have asked days ago.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
He already knew the answer to that question. He’d told Jeanne as much in the TIE/sa bomber simulator, although he still wasn’t quite happy with his ability to control the slower craft. He knew what /he/ was going to do about it, but he knew the question wasn’t really directed at him. He was already set on his course, his personal crusade planned.

What the shell-shocked pilot sitting to his immediate right was going to do about her brush with defeat and death, on the other hand, was an entirely different question – and that was what he had organized this whole game to find out.
“I’m gonna improve, so that next time I face those bastards, or anyone else, I stomp their faces into the mud.”
He turned to face Cabby, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across his face. “And what about you?”

OOC:

Word Count: 400

So, Cabby, what /are/ you gonna do?