It was before his time in the VEN. Before he even knew about the VEN. It was a time when he was still corrupted by New Republic propaganda, saying that all Imperials were evil scum who wanted to rule like tyrants and would corrupt everyone and everything around them. It was before he wore an enclosed helmet or a black flight suit. He was one of them, one of the people that he would come to fight until he died or retired. He was a New Republic pilot, stationed in Hussar Squadron, on the planet Tachurus.

The Squadron was large compared to those of the imperials, having three more fighters per squadron for a total of fifteen. Trevor was Hussar Three, a title he took with pride. He was third in command of the squadron, and although he was not a flight leader, he had the highest rank excluding Szar and Reaper. Szar was a commander and Reaper was an Ensign. He was never really sure what his true rank was within the squadron, but he was always told that he was third in command of it.

The other members were different than Szar, Reaper and himself. They were essentially the outcasts of other NR squadrons. Hussar Squadron was given the pilots who were insubordinate, who were hotshots, and who would one day be blown out of the sky for trying to be a hero. Hussar squadron had them all, including a criminal or two.

Razor was the leader of flight two(Hussar 6). First and last names, although required for filing purposes, were not used within the squadron. Razor was a man of about six feet, with jet black hair that was greased back. He was a handsome looking man, but his exterior was part of what had helped make him such a ruthless criminal. He was a known murderer and had received the death sentence on twelve planets, before seeking refuge from them with the NR. After being accepted he was transferred to Hussar squadron where his disposition seemed to change dramatically after he fell in love with Edge.

Edge was flight two's second member (Hussar 7). She was a strikingly beautiful lady, one whom was not thought to be of any harm. This image was even further helped along by her diminutive appearance (she stood only 5'2"), and her childlike facial features. She could fly though, and it was what most of the squadron admired her for. Razor had thought of her as a pipsqueak until she managed to pin him down and knock one of his teeth out. He, as well as the rest of the squadron, gained a respect for her that day that most people in the NR wouldn't understand until they saw why.

Hussar 4 was a man who went by the name Envelope. No one was quite sure why he did this, but some had to think that it had something to do with his slightly below-average intelligence and the fact that many of the bombers called their ordinance 'the package'. He simply put two and two together, and the rest was history. He was a skinny man, towering over Edge at 5'5". He had prematurely gray hair, but never seemed to notice it. Many of the others made fun of it, but his intelligence came into play once again and he thought their insults were complimentary.

Five was a man whose callsign fit his position in the squadron. He was Hussar's fifth pilot, and had chosen the nickname 'Five' for seemingly simple reasons. He had originally been a commander in one of the NR's other Y-wing bomber squadrons, and was disgusted with being sent to Hussar for being insubordinate to his wing commander.  He had an absolute hatred for each individual in the squadron when they were on the ground, but in the air he was able to work with them as a team. Their flying ability wasn't what irked him, but it was their respective backgrounds that made him feel 'better' than them.

Hussar 8 was another woman, this one almost standing 6 feet tall and with long red hair. She had a soft voice and was a good woman at heart, but was sent to Hussar after she punched a former commander in the face for sexually harassing her. Trevor couldn't really blame the former commander though, as Red was incredibly beautiful. She was one of those people he imagined he would have seen in an add for some fancy clothing or perfume, rather than someone out fighting the imperial menace. She could also fly though, better then a few of the men in the group.

Nine didn't have a callsign, nor did he speak. Ever. He had had his tongue removed by a pirate after he single handedly thwarted an attempt to capture a NR transport. Everyone just called him Silence, and he never objected to the name. Although the man could not speak, Trevor had complete trust in him. His piloting skills weren't the best of the squadron, but he had a shot that was impossible to beat, even from a distance that most people wouldn't expect to hit anything. He was also one of the key strategists, often assisting the mission organizers in planning bombing runs.

Tack (Hussar 11) was the tactics expert of the squadron, and Flight Three's lead. He knew more maneuvers than the flight academy's textbooks, including plenty that he had devised on his own. He lacked the skill to perform half of them though, but often was able to walk others through them during the heat of battle. He was a great asset, and when they were in battle on the ground of in the air, he was always one step ahead of the opposition. It was rumored that Red had a crush on him, but no one ever pressed the subject, fearing Tack's physical retaliation. He was a man of 6'3" and 280 lbs, mostly muscle.

Buzz was in charge of on the ground radio operations, as well as painting the targets for bombing runs. He was a painter with both his computer and his hand, tending to enjoy painting his fighter's various detailing, as well as painting his bomb casings. He had lost his left hand when he was painting a grenade and had it go off. Luckily for him that was all that he had lost. He was 29 years old, and about the same height as Trevor, making him one of the tallest in the squadron. Everyone seemed to like him, mostly because he was willing to paint stylized TIEs on their fuselages.

Hussar 13 was an extremely odd fellow. His callsign was Crazy Eye, but really, he had no eyes. He was a human but could very well be called a Cyclops. He was born with a single eye in the center of his head, just above the nose, but this was lost during an accident as a young boy. It was eventually replaced with a cybernetic eye, one that allowed him to see through walls, see through people, see heat, and see sound. It was an amazing tool that really helped him in flight as he could follow the quickly dying heat signatures of enemy ships.

Hussar 14 was Lightning. He was given this callsign merely because he had a lighting-bolt shaped burn mark on his chest, caused by a run in with a criminal gang on Coruscant known as The Thunderstorm. He had double-crossed them and was burnt with their mark of being a traitor, but escaped the core world before they could do anything more to him. He had joined the NR as a way of escape, and was very quiet. No one knew what he had done to anger the gang, all that was known is that was what had happened. He was of average height, about 5'10", and had short cropped blonde hair.

15 was Thunder, a friend of Lightning's. How the two came to meet is really unknown, except that Thunder tagged along behind Lightning when they joined. The rumor of the squadron is that Thunder had been a part of the gang that attacked and burned Lightning, except he had tried to stop them and had to flee from the gang himself. No one ever bothered to directly ask him, because they knew he wouldn't tell the truth if he did. Out of  everyone in the squadron, Trevor trusted Thunder the least.

Those were the Hussars as they used to be. A group of criminals and rejects, but one who quickly became known as the best Y-wing bomber squadron in the entire NR. Their exploits became legendary, and they were role models to everyone who worked with them.


Trevor was just suiting up in the locker room. Hussar had been called into service to run a quick bombing run over the surface of Temthur, a small planet near Tachurus that was attempting to overthrow the NR government. It was simply going to be a show of force to keep the natives from becoming too unruly. Really, it was something that bothered Trevor. He knew that the old empire had constantly used shows of force simply to keep the public from revolting, and now the NR was doing something the same.

Doesn't really mater though, this is different. The Empire was a tyranny, this is a democracy. We're trying our best to be fair to everyone, and to let everyone have what they want. He thought to himself as he zipped up the flight suit, completely ignore that it was obvious that the people of Temthur didn't want the NR as their government. He made his way out of the locker room with his helmet in hand, trying to get his left foot to settle properly in the flight boot. They had always given him a problem but he found that if he walked on it for a few minutes it would all settle in properly.

The locker room was adjacent to the hanger bay, so it wasn't a long walk to find his fighter. It was the one sitting on the floor next to the only black fighter in Hussar Squadron, the one that had a white skull painted on the underside, as well as the ion cannon mounted on the side of the cockpit rather than the roof. Trevor had never really seen the reason for Reaper's adjustment, but wasn't going to tell his friend it was a stupid idea to sacrifice 180 degrees of movement just to make it look cooler. I suppose it does look pretty cool though.

Most of the squadron was hanging around their fighters, waiting for Szar to show up. Nothing ever proceeded without Szar, and the big Trandosian had shown his wrath more than once to people who had begun to work on their craft before he had shown up. Szar was ill tempered, but he was a valuable squadron leader. He could read an enemy like a book, and he did have a good sense of humor. He, like most Trandosians, referred to himself in plural, constantly saying 'we' or 'us' when referring to himself.

Trevor was just about to climb into his fighter to begin his pre-flight check when the Trandosian walked through the doors are the opposite end of the hanger, stomping across the floor as he did so until he arrived at his fighter. He tossed his helmet to the seat and made his way back to the group of pilots, flattening the scales on the back of his head down as he walked.

"Alright men, we're ready to take off and make our way to Temthur. Your shipssss are fueled up and ready to go. Letsss not messss this mission up, the Republic'sss presence in thisss area relysss on ussss. Saddle up!" He said in a slightly scaly sounding voice, holding his s's in a slightly reptilian way. Trevor had always found it someone comical, but knew that if he laughed he would probably be struck or shot down during flight. That thought scared him, so he instead ignored the slightly humorous speaking and began his pre-flight check.

It took him all of five minutes to finish over his checks. Everyone was good, just as it would have been. The NR pilots really became attached to their ships, and often they would specify which tech they wanted to work on their ship, or even do the work themselves if they knew how. Each pilot was usually able to communicate to their tech what they wanted done, and what they wanted to be left alone. The techs were usually pretty good at it too, almost always following orders unless they knew that what they did would make the ship even worse then it was when they were told to fix it. Only sometimes did they ever make the ship 'worse handling' because a pilot requested, and these were the times when the pilot proved that he or she could handle the fighter better then it should have been able to be handled.

Trevor sighed as they began the roll call. He said his name as he was supposed to, and then began to finish buckling himself in. He had a little bit of trouble with his right shoulder strap  it had gotten wedged behind the seat and he had a bit of trouble fishing it out, but other than that he had little difficulty. He threw his helmet on, followed by his gloves and a quick cracking of his knuckles, and he was ready to go.

Szar made the final words over the comm., letting the tower know that they were ready for liftoff. The hanger doors were opened and Trevor could see out into the warm atmosphere of Tachurus. He could see the trees 2 kilometers away, and knew that momentarily he would be flying over them. Upon Szar's order, he lifted off the ground and closed his cockpit hatch before slowly accelerating out of the hanger. Once he had reached the correct altitude, he retracted the landing gear and continued increasing both his speed and his altitude. Only a second later he blew over the treetops, his engines lighting the tips on fire before they were snuffed out by the breeze created by the rest of the squadron. He was ready to go, and happy to be in the air once more.

OOC: What i'm doing is I'm going to give some background information into Hussar Squadron.
 
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SC/ESN/Trevor Evenson/Nazgul 1(1-1)/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/DEF/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[VC:B][LSM][BRC][SWC][GWC]

The VEN`s #1 writer as of ESC `06

Clearly Canadian!

It felt good to him to be flying once more. He was leaving Tachurus behind to shoot towards the starts, only half literally. Really, he was on his way to Temthur. A barren planet as he recalled, run solely off its mining industry. It had few cities of notable size, and he presumed that they were going to be blowing up a couple of mining facilities to cripple the economy and set the citizens in their places. Hyperspace was unnecessary, as the planet was within the same system, orbiting on the same path as Tachurus. The two planets orbited at the same speed, so a collision would never be possible. One of the plus-sides was that if you flew towards Temthur, the flight time was cut in half by the fact that is was traveling towards you, while you flew towards it. Occasionally, Temthur was mistaken as a moon of Tachurus by those who visited the planet and did not know that it had a twin.

"So does anyone know what we're supposed to be destroying?" Reaper asked. This confirmed Trevor's suspicions that only Szar and Buzz knew the exact targets, and that they would probably be being secretive just to annoy the rest of the squadron.

"Nope, not at all." Trevor replied, and his assumptions were correct when Szar and Buzz were called upon but gave no replies. Half the squadron chuckled to themselves, and Trevor waited for the joking to start. No one ever picked on the same person two missions in a row, and last mission he had been the target.

"Sooo&." Yawned Reaper, and everyone immediately realized the bugging was about to begin. "I hear that Razor and Edge shard a bunk the other night. Heard the sound coming down the hall all the way to my quarters." He said, keeping a solid voice as he did so. Trevor knew that Razor's face had gone livid in his fighter, and he could tell just by the man's voice.

"Shut up, fool. What would you know." Razor replied, most of the squadron just shaking their heads. Everyone waited for Edge to reply, and Trevor winced when a red bolt flew overtop of his fighter and glanced off the shields of Reaper's fighter.

"Whoa now! That's not called for, Edge." Reaper said calmly, and Trevor watched the ion cannon mounted on the starboard side of his fighter rotate until Edge's fighter was lined up in his sights. Trevor chuckled as did anyone else who could see it, and Trevor noted that Edge descended until she was out of the rotational range of his cannon. Reaper never would have fired back, but the threat was enough to keep Edge in line.

"Well, that's enough joking for now..." Trevor said sarcastically, pushing his throttles forward a little bit to keep up with the rest of the first Flight. The comm. remained fairly silent the rest of the journey, and Trevor was sort of pleased. He was sure that most of the chatter was happening on private channels, but that was fine with him. He didn't care if they decided to insult him in private; as long as they worked well with him during flight he was fine.

It didn't take too long before a small blue dot appeared in their view ports, one that slowly grew until it filled their forward view. Temthur was a beautiful planet from the air, and what made it odd was that what appeared to be oceans was really the blue soil on the planet's surface. The darker areas that represented continents were really deep excavations, where the walls of the man-made canyons caused the insides to be shrouded in shadow almost all the time.

"Alright men and women, prepare yourselfssss for atmospheric entry. Be ready to apply airbrakesssss and reverse thrust." Szar ordered over the comm., his trademark reptilian voice being shrouded by the electronics. He sounded almost normal, minus his held s's. Trevor acknowledged the order, as did the rest of the squadron, and began preparing his airbrakes to be applied. The process in a Y-wing was more time-consuming than in other craft, because the brakes could only be applied if they were manually unlocked. Trevor disengaged his locks just in time and had his airbrakes out by the time the bottom of his craft was red-hot from the friction of the atmosphere. The craft's large surface area helped in slowing it down without the use of airbrakes, but they wanted to be fully under control and at a working atmospheric speed before they arrived at the target zone.

After everyone had slowed down to the correct speed and had returned the airbrakes back to their storage positions, as well re-locked them, they fell into a single file order line behind Buzz, who was follow directly by Szar. It was a little trick to fool radar that was pointed in their direction, but Trevor highly doubted they would encounter too much of that. The cities on the planet relied on NR bases for protection, and the last he had heard these based had not been taken over. They reached cruising speed and once they were within 50 kilometers Buzz began to paint targets. It was then that Trevor realized something he didn't want to know. They were bombing a city.

"Whoa whoa whoa. You're kidding me here, right Szar? We're not seriously going to bomb a city, not one that contains millions of New Republic citizens!" Trevor objected, veering his bomber out of the lineup. Szar growled into his microphone and let out a sigh before he began to explain.

"That'sss exactly what we're doing. We've been given ordersss and we will follow them to the letter." Szar replied, pushing this throttles to their stops and clicking his comm. unit off. Trevor had a deep respect for his commander, but he found it hard to believe that even Szar could be heartless enough to be willing to drop bombs on millions of people.

"Look Ace, it's different killing people up here. You don't think about it, you don't know them. They are just there. I have to agree with you though, the amount that will die in this bugs even me." Reaper told him, trying to sound sympathetic. Trevor found it hard to believe that his best friend was even going to go through with it. Reaper too pushed his throttles forward to keep up with Szar and Buzz, and began preparing his targeting computer as he did so. Trevor nodded his head silently inside his cockpit and fell back into line, pushing his throttles forward until he reached bombing run speed.

He chose not to use a computer, knowing that whether he had a direct hit or not didn't matter. The bombs that they were using had such force that he could hit 300 meters away from his target and still level it completely. As they approached the city, Trevor began to feel sick. He could see houses on the outskirts, and if he was flying any lower, he felt he would have been able to see the young children playing in the yards. Then Szar lobbed his first bomb and managed to decimate over five hundred homes. The Y-wings fell out into a staggered-v formation, each about 500 meters apart from the last. Their bombs fell, raining destruction across the city.

Trevor felt as if he was going to be sick with every bomb that hit the ground. He felt as if he could hear the voices of the dying, crying out to him to stop the rampage. By now they were out of the outskirts and into the more populated area, small apartment towers dotting the landscape, as well as businesses and what Trevor made out to be schools. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drop yet another barrage on the defenseless city below, the city that was already confused and shocked as to why the faction that claimed to be so peaceful was bombing citizens that had really done nothing more than file petitions to be removed from the Republic.

The reports that had been fed to the Hussars were lies. They told of how armed revolt was what was happening. They told of how the citizens were forming mobs and attacking all NR funded buildings, how they were attacking the NR bases. Although this had happened once, the majority of the citizens preferred to simply file petitions in the hopes that their demands for independence could be met without violence. Now they knew, in their last minutes of life, that a peaceful resolution was impossible. Bombs rained down around the city, now making their way into the downtown. Skyscrapers that stretched kilometers into the atmosphere were shattered as bombs stuck them at their bases. Trevor now felt that every bomb that was striking the walls of the buildings in the city was pounding inside his head.

He began to feel lightheaded, and almost didn't notice that his craft was slipping dangerously into the blast zone of his wing mate. He found that he was losing control, and it was not until he regained his full sense of himself later that he would realize that his arm had been knocked out of place by the reverberations of an explosion. He had to will himself to correct his Y-wing's path; he had to use every ounce of strength in his body to continue his rain of destruction on the buildings below. He had become immune to the sound of bombs by now, but the sound of buildings that were up to ten kilometers tall crashing to the ground far below, it was something he had not built a tolerance to yet.

And then it was over. They had crossed the city, leaving nothing but a smoldering, rubble-strewn hellhole. It would later be officially documented that of the 24,900,000 people living in the Temthurian city of Addison, only 11,483 would have survived the blast. It was a staggering blow to Temthur, one that would force them to remain within the New Republic.

Trevor would have been thankful to know that he would never learn these statistics. If he had known that he was responsible for the loss of almost twenty-five million lives, he probably would have ended his own life.

"Good work ladiessss and gentlemen." Szar said over the comm. as they flew across the landscape of Temthur. Trevor was glad he couldn't look behind him. "We've crushed a menace to the New Republic today. You should all be very proud of yourselvesssss."

"Yeah, proud for killing millions." Trevor said sarcastically, cutting in on Szar's speech. The comm. units went silent. No one had ever done that before, and if anyone ever had, no one from this squadron remembered it happening. Szar had been known to bite the fingers off of pilots who had interrupted him, and he was never court marshaled because the NR could really care less about the pilots of Hussar Squadron. Finally, Szar replied.

"You're right, Ace. We're not proud of ourselvessss either. None of you should be. We've done a grave thing today, and us was the leaderssss." Szar said. It was the first time Trevor had ever heard the commander actually agree with insubordination, and he was genuinely shocked to the point of not being able to speak. Apparently the rest of the squadron was feeling the same way, as no one spoke for a solid three minutes. "Itssss a disgrace. The NR is about freedom, not crushing those who want to be free." Szar continued.

"Shall we head home, sir?" Reaper asked, completely unsure of what to expect from his commander at this moment in time.

"Yessss&" Szar said, trailing off. He slowly began his decent into the sky, a sky that was tinted red from the setting sun. To Trevor, it felt as if the blood of those who had been killed that day was rising into the air, as if to haunt them one last time before they returned to base and did their best to drink the memory away. It was all the majority of bomber pilots could do to help keep their conscience even a little bit clean.

As Trevor ascended his craft, his looked over his shoulder as best as he could and mumbled "I'm sorry" to the unhearing ears of the dead, those who rested far below him, those who would never see their futures, loved ones, or friends again.

 
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SC/ESN/Trevor Evenson/Nazgul 1(1-1)/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/DEF/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[VC:B][LSM][BRC][SWC][GWC]

The VEN`s #1 writer as of ESC `06

Clearly Canadian!

Le tally!
 
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SCAP, WADJ/1LT Corran "Arturus" Hargraves/STCR Doashim/VE/VEN/(=A=)(=SA=)(=*MA*=)(=JCPA=)(=SCPA=)[MC:1](x2)[SV][BRC][VC:B][CBV][LSM][LoC][BWC][SWC][GWC][LoC-DD][CM-PL]

Tally tally un autre tally!
 
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SCAP, WADJ/1LT Corran "Arturus" Hargraves/STCR Doashim/VE/VEN/(=A=)(=SA=)(=*MA*=)(=JCPA=)(=SCPA=)[MC:1](x2)[SV][BRC][VC:B][CBV][LSM][LoC][BWC][SWC][GWC][LoC-DD][CM-PL]

I hate you so much

I mean... TALLY!
 
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SCAP, WADJ/1LT Corran "Arturus" Hargraves/STCR Doashim/1Flt/VE/VEN/(=A=)(=SA=)(=*MA*=)(=JCPA=)(=SCPA=)[MC:1](x2)[SV][BRC][VC:B][CBV][LSM][LoR][BWC][SWC][GWC][LoC-DD][CM-PL]

BAH!

Tally!
 
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SCAP, WADJ/1LT Corran "Arturus" Hargraves/STCR Doashim/1Flt/VE/VEN/(=A=)(=SA=)(=*MA*=)(=JCPA=)(=SCPA=)[MC:1](x2)[SV][BRC][VC:B][CBV][LSM][LoR][BWC][SWC][GWC][LoC-DD][CM-PL]

He scanned the room slowly, trying to pick out where the scent could be coming from. He couldn't place the name, but he had smelled it before and it matched the scent of the girl in his dream. It scared him that a dream could be so real and then continue into real life. After ensuring that there was no one hiding in his room and alerting Zap to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Trevor rolled over and allowed himself to fall back asleep. This time his sleep was dreamless, something he'd be thankful for the following morning.

*** Next Morning ***

Trevor woke up slowly, seeming like he was more tired then he should have been. He lay in bed for a few minutes after he woke up before sliding the blanket off of himself and setting his feet down on the cold metal floor. He immediately pulled them back up and glared down at the floor. How dare you! So early in the morning too! &I'm going to have to get some carpet or something for in here. He thought to himself as he leaned over the bed and pulled his boots towards him. He dropped his feet inside and safely walked across the floor to the refresher room.

He allowed himself to relax in the refresher, taking a longer time then he normally would have. He was happy to no longer be under the time constraints of the NR. No more having to run on a sharp timetable, not for the time being anyways. He was sure that after a little while he would be back on a schedule with Hussar Squadron, having to work away at keeping the corvettes running and in good order.

He stepped out of the 'fresher and dried his hair off as best as he could before letting it hang limp and drying the rest of himself off. After he was done he got dressed in some casual clothes and gave Zap a pat on the dome before starting out the door and down the hallway. He guessed where the mess hall was and happened to find the majority of his half of the Squadron sitting and enjoying breakfast. He took a seat next to them and shoveled some food from a large central dish onto a plate he had grabbed from one end of the table.

"What's the plan for today?" He asked, looking around the group. Most of the group was too absorbed into their food to really pay attention to his question, but Reaper had heard him. He downed the last of his water before setting the glass on the table and turning to Trevor.

"Not a lot. We have some bodies to get rid of, but aside from that we can't do a whole lot. We jumped into hyperspace yesterday sometime after you went to sleep, and we're bound for some system in the outer rim. The one thing that we could be doing today is repainting the emblems on our fighters." Reaper suggested as he finished off the eggs on his plate and pushed it away from himself. Trevor nodded and looked around for Buzz.

"Where is our artist?" He asked, not finding the one-handed bandit among the crowd. His question went unanswered, but that was fine with him. He had to assume that Buzz was still on the bridge, sprinting from machine to machine while making very minuet adjustments to the course to keep them from straying slightly and edging too close to a star or planet.  Trevor sat quietly the rest of his time as he finished eating his breakfast, going for seconds and then hanging around once everyone else was finished and debating whether to go and start working or not.

Finally the teams seemed to split up and go to begin their work for the day. Reaper and Tack went to drag the two bodies out of the engine room, while Trevor, Razor and Edge went to remove the ones from the hanger bay. Inside, Trevor was glad to see that their Y-wings were still there and intact, something that would prove to be important later on during their new lives as pirates.

Trevor was having difficulty dragging one of the techs, and Edge came to give him a hand by pulling on the other arm. He nodded his thanks before thinking for a moment. Maybe that perfume I smelled was hers, that would be a pretty logical explanation. He considered as they dragged the limp body of the tech over the threshold of the hanger door.

"Hey Edge, do you wear perfume?" He asked, receiving an odd look from the short pilot. She opened her mouth to answer but stopped for a moment to pull extra hard on her arm of the body. One of the feet had gotten lodged behind the doorframe and as she pulled harder it became loose again.

"Yeah, I wear perfume. How come?" She asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. He shrugged and continued to pull the body down the hall, somewhat amused that there was no trail of blood for them to clean up afterwards.

"Well, I smelled perfume last night and wondered who it was. Obvious signs point to you though." He said, grinning. He was glad he had gotten that mystery out of the way. If it had been Edge's perfume, then it was possible that it had manipulated his dream, and afterwards it had manipulated his reality.

"Well, unless it smelled like fruit, it wasn't mine. I haven't used mine in almost a week." She said, cutting deeply into his thoughts of closing the case on a minor mystery. He visibly flinched when she told him this and he sighed.

"Ah. The stuff I smelled was scented like rain." He said slowly, trying to figure out why he would have smelled a rain scented perfume in the middle of space, away from rain and away from girls who wore perfume. He considered for a moment that the room might have previously belonged to a woman who wore perfume, but dismissed the idea. He would have smelled it as soon as he entered, not after dreaming about the same scent prior to waking up in the middle of the night and smelling it then. He looked over to Edge who just shrugged. The rest of their trip to the garbage dump was uneventful and silent.

Once they reached the dumping area Trevor and Edge dropped the body into the metal container along with the other 3 that had been transported there already. He felt a bit of regret, feeling that the men who had been killed fighting to save their ship should have at least been given a proper burial. No such luck for them though. It bothered him, and it would be determined later that this was one of the experiences that brought around the morals he would have as a future pilot.

They walked away from the trash jettison. They'd be unable to dump the bodies until they reverted back to real-space, and Trevor had a small feeling that the bodies might begin to stink by then. He would solve that problem by just ignoring the trash disposal area until the bodies could be dumped away.

Edge and Trevor made their way back to the cafeteria after they had finished their job, and Trevor was pleased to see Buzz enjoying a late breakfast. He made his way over to the table and sat down next to him, giving him a pat on the back as he did so.

"Good work the other day, my friend. You did well with the stuff we asked." Trevor said, and Buzz nodded thanks rather then spoke because his mouth was full of bacon. He swallowed and washed the food down with a drink of an amber substance that Trevor didn't recognize.

"Thanks. We're heading to the outer rim, Szar thinks it's best we hide out there for a while before we begin to make attacks on the N.R. run ports. I think he's right, the heat's going to be pretty high once they figure out what happened, if they haven't already." He explained as he wiped the edges of his mouth with a napkin and crumpled it into a ball. He stood up and took his tray over to the garbage, then returning a moment later and sat down next to Trevor. "So what can I do for you?"

"Well, I was thinkin' that we need new emblems for our fighters. Was wondering if you had any ideas on what we could do." Trevor said, pulling a napkin over to him and taking a pen up off the table that someone had left behind. He clicked it and draw an odd looking emblem, somewhat lop-sided and not too great looking. He showed it to Buzz and produced a laugh. Buzz took the napkin and flipped it over, setting a few salt and pepper shakers on it to help keep it from moving. He took the pen and began to lightly draw out the design of a stylized 'H'. The bottoms of the 'H' resembled snake-like fangs, while the top left and right edges resembled a reptilian tail and the tail end of a Y-wing's engines.

Trevor nodded at the design; it defiantly looked good to him. Either way, he wanted one of those painted on the fuselage of his fighter. He suggested the idea to Buzz who nodded and stood up. He explained he needed to grab his painting supplies and that he'd meet Trevor in the hanger in about five minutes. Trevor nodded and walked out of the cafeteria on the side opposite of Buzz, making his way to the hanger. It didn't take him long to reach the hanger, he had begun to get used to the hallways of the corvette. Ahead of him were the main hanger doors, and before them he could see eight Y-wings lined up in a neat row. Already the pilots had started to go over certain things of their ships.

He spotted Reaper's down at the end, the black fighter being able to spot among the gray. Trevor's was seated next to it, looking like an overweight bird resting on a cool gray sidewalk. Many other pilots of the New Republic, and factions everywhere else often frowned upon the pudgy and slow fighters, but he and all the other Hussar pilots enjoyed flying the machines. They were given far less credit then they deserved as fighter-bombers, and when flown by a skilled pilot they could be as deadly as the fastest fighter out there. Hussar Squadron had proven this many times, having not lost a single battle since their re-birth sometime after the Battle of Endor.

Trevor approached his fighter and lay a hand on the cool metal that formed its protective exterior. Nothing could easily break through, and Trevor felt as if he could feel the power of the fighter flowing up his arm as he rested his hand on surface. The fighters were things of beauty in his eyes, things that he knew how to use. His feelings of regret and remorse for those he had killed both on the corvette and on Temthur faded a little bit as he was drawn back into the mindset he had become so used to.

The regret was going away, as was the remorse. He had killed those people, ruined families, destroyed lives. He was making up for it now, and that was what he was fine with. He felt himself slipping into a cold, unfeeling mindset. He felt like taking on the N.R. in a face-to-face fight. He didn't feel like stealthily ruining their training academies or capturing supply convoys. He didn't feel like blockading planets and turning the squadron into a pirate fleet. He felt like directly and opening attacking everything that belonged to the N.R. He felt no fear anymore

And why wouldn't he feel this way? He was a Hussar.

Word Count: 2008
 
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SC/ESN/Trevor Evenson/Nazgul 1(1-1)/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/DEF/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[VC:B][LSM][BRC][SWC][GWC]

The VEN`s #1 writer as of ESC `06

Clearly Canadian!

Buzz showed up a few minutes after Trevor had arrived in the hanger. He had with him a large toolbox full of painting supplies, as well as a small canvas bag filled with brushes and other utensils. He approached Trevor's fighter and nodded to Reaper, who was beside them rebuilding part of his craft that he had taken apart. He set his toolbox down, canvas bag beside it, and began to look around for the proper paints and brushes. Once he had laid everything out on the edge of the fuselage, he looked at Trevor.

"So where exactly are we going to paint this new logo? Got any ideas yet for colours?" He asked, nodding to the array of colours that rested on the edge of his craft. Trevor pointed to a deep red colour, and then set his hand down in the large space on the nose of the craft, ahead of the cockpit.

"We've got a large spot right here, and I figure that this way there will be enough room for the emblem to be large enough for people to tell what it is. No point in having a logo only a few inches wide." He explained. Buzz nodded and grabbed a small grease pencil that he was going to use to draw the 'H'. He took his time, making sure to go slow and sketch the letter out properly. The emblem seemed to look a lot more ferocious when it was larger. Once he had finished off the outline, he grabbed one of his containers of paint. He selected a wide tipped brush and began to smoothly fill in the emblem with the deep red colour.

It didn't take him long, and once he had finished with the main colours, he took a new brush and a container of off-white paint. Dipping the brush in, he used it to fill in the teeth, except for the tips. The tips he once again painted red, to symbolize blood stains. As soon as he finished they both stood back and admired his handiwork.

"It looks pretty good Buzz, but it almost feels as if it's missing something." Trevor said, rubbing his chin as he looked at the image. Reaper came up behind him and peered around his shoulder, wiping his dirty hands on an oily rag.

"It needs an outline in a contrasting colour. Maybe in a white or a black." He suggested before walking away and beginning to put the reassembled part back into his fighter. Buzz nodded, realizing what he had forgotten. He walked around the cockpit of the craft and grabbed a container with black paint in it, and after selecting a moderately thin brush he began to outline his work. It didn't take him too much time, and when he was finished they booth stood back and once again admired the amount of time and effort that he had put into the small graphic.

"Now it looks good." Trevor said, patting Buzz on the back. Soon they had gathered all of the pilots in the hanger around Trevor's craft and the vote was unanimous that the emblem would be the squadron's new logo. If Szar Ok'd it that was. They didn't bother waiting for their commander to confirm the new logo though, and soon all the pilots on the first corvette had requested for Buzz to detail their ships with the design as well. Reaper had put in a special request to have his end up in all white to match the colour scheme of his fighter, but other then that no one objected to the colouring.

Trevor borrowed a can of clear coat paint from one of the tech booths and quickly gave his detailing a few coats of paint. He didn't want the paint to peel during the high speed flying or be affected by the weather. He tossed the can onto the bench as he left the hanger, not wishing to do too much work on his fighter today. He headed off down the hallway, trying to think of something he could waste the next couple of hours doing. Sleep was an option, but he felt a little bit afraid that he might end up dreaming of the mystery girl once again. The dreams didn't really scare him, in the full meaning of the word. He had a bit of anxiety that he would continue to have these odd dreams for no reason at all though.

The fact that he had been unable to figure out why he was dreaming what he was, and why the dreams contained images of him fighting his own friends bugged him. He let out a sigh as he walked down the hall, staring at his feet. He almost ran into the wall at the end of the hallway, hitting his front foot on it and managing to catch himself before falling face first into it. He stopped and looked at the door next to where he almost face planted and was shocked to see a sign on a door that said "room supplies". He shrugged to himself before pushing the button that allowed the door to slide open and stepped inside.

Inside the room he found a treasure trove of interior supplies, as well as the basic necessities. Lining the walls were rolls of toilet paper, toothbrushes, soap, hair supplies, shower supplies, pretty much everything one could want. Farther back in the room he managed to find stacks upon stacks of carpet chunks. He smiled to himself as he loaded his arms with them and made his way to his room. Zap was awake and was rolling around on the floor pointlessly, leaving smile wheel marks all along the polished flooring. Trevor shook his head and gave the droid a loving kick. It quickly stopped and turned its 'eye' to him, before rolling back to its corner and making angry beeping noises at him. He shrugged and began to toss the carpet pieces out onto the floor of his room.

It took him about half an hour but when he was finished eh was left with a colourful mosaic of carpet chunks, each seeming to fit perfectly to the one next to it. There were only a few spots of bare polished floor left, but Trevor could care less. He now had a path round his room that he could use to avoid touching his feet to the icy cold floor in the mornings. Following his completion of the carpet art, he lowered himself onto the bed and tried to take a moment to relax.

I just don't get it. Everything has been so weird lately. How home these dreams have only started now.He thought to himself as he stretched his arms about above his head and yawned. He let his arms drop to his sides and rolled his shoulders before trying once more to relax his body. Everything is just so&different. I enjoy being out of the N.R., but the way it had changed how I feel and even how I dream...it bugs me. And this girl with the blue hair...that really bothers me. What does she have to do with my life? Obviously she cares about me and I know these dream must men something&Maybe I'll meet her in this outer rim system we're headed to. But that doesn't explain the Imperial uniform she had been wearing the first time. I highly doubt I'd be dumb enough to fall for an Imperial girl while I'm known as a wanted pirate, even if we are only known to the N.R.

I suppose that me shooting at my friends bugs me the most though. I don't think I'll ever have to raise a weapon against Tachurus, I mean, from what I remember they are going to be joining us shortly. Their plan is to just directly steal their fighters and flee to where we are. We'll be a good pirate group, that's for sure. He finished his thought with another yawn and leaned back on his bed, allowing himself to fall into a light sleep.

*** Shortly After ***

He woke up slowly; pleased to realize that he had no memory of any dreams he may have had during the night. He shrugged his shoulders and wiped the sleep away from his eyes with a hand before standing up and giving his droid a small boot to wake it up. It whirred to life before extending the central 'third foot' and rolling out the door behind him. Zap was a lively little beast, as Trevor called him, painted bright yellow with white detailing. Trevor had deviated from the 'standard' white with coloured detailing, thinking it gave the droid a bit more of a uniqueness.  The droid also seemed to posses a personality that amused Trevor. It seemed to have some sort of attention disorder, except during combat. Whenever they were in a relaxed time, the droid lost its ability to concentrate and would do some pretty random things, as shown before when it ended up rolling around in circles on the floor.

He admired the droid though. It had been hit more then once on its painted dome head and still it never seemed to have problems with accompanying him into combat. Sure, it was a droid and was programmed that way, but with the way it complained about getting cold or warm or having to go 'to far' to get somewhere, Trevor was sure that one of these days it was going to start refusing to work with him.

Trevor was looking for a droid room, hoping to find something to entertain Zap with while he did a couple of minor repairs. There's another thing, you dumb droid. You refuse to let me fix you, unless I power you off. Then you complain to me afterwards that things feel different and you don't know why. He grinned to himself. The droid really was a piece of uniqueness.

Trevor managed to scout out the droid repair room and opened the door, allowing Zap to roll inside first. Inside the room he was surprised to find about fifteen other astromech droids sitting around, waiting to be activated and used. Maybe we could use these things to help us run the ship&I mean; it'd give us an extra fifteen hands on deck. He thought to himself as he walked over to the nearest droid, a pink one, and activated it. It took a few moments for the power supply to kick in, but soon enough the droid beeped an acknowledgment and swiveled the dome on top of itself as if to examine its surroundings.

Zap let out a short series of beeps and the pink droid turns its electronic eye in his direction. He retracted the third foot and straightened up, walking over towards the pink droid. It beeped back at him and he stopped, before it beeped again and he wobbled a little bit closer. Trevor couldn't help but laugh at this, wishing he had a droid translator nearby.

"Oh Zap, you little hotshot. I knew you were a player, but I didn't know you could get a girl that was so new to the world." Trevor joked, stopping Zap in his tracks. He turned to look at Trevor, whistled a raspberry at him and began wobbling again. He came to a stop next to the pink droid and stopped, waiting for her to do something. When she remained quite, Zap let off a string off beeps only to be met a second later by another set. The pink droid extended her retractable wheeled mechanism as Zap did the same, and both of them rolled out the door, one after another.

Trevor watched this and sighed, throwing down the tool he had been holding in his hand in preparation to do some work on Zap. "Damn it! You need minor fixes and you go off and flirt around with some pink droid. Hell&" He said, flopping onto the seat that sat in front of the workbench.

Word count: 2014

 
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SC/ESN/Trevor Evenson/Nazgul 1(1-1)/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/DEF/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)(=*SA*=)[VC:B][LSM][BRC][SWC][GWC]

The VEN`s #1 writer as of ESC `06

Clearly Canadian!