Skar watched as two or three late arrivals sprinted into the room, apologising profusely to Trevor perched high above. He didn't appear to acknowledge their arrival, he continued to scan the papers sprawled across his stand.

Skar took another sip from his mug, and tried to sweep his hair from his eyes. He wasn't surprised a few people were late, it was a ridiculous time to of been called into action. Just half an hour ago he was lying in bed, dreaming away the nothingness which accompanied far too many Nazgul days. Now he was stood in a briefing room, in a uniform which looked somewhat scruffy considering the mental state he dressed in, overlooking a ship docking just down the hallway. He had never imagined their jump back into action to be so, tiring.

His appearance was nowhere near as bad as that of many of his squadmates. Many of them appeared to be asleep where they stood. Their eyes snapped open when Trevor cleared his throat.

"Morning folks" He smiled, arranging the papers into a neat pile and smiling down at Nazgul. He winced at the unrecognisable replies.

"Well many of you got your wish, we're back into action. However, our mission seems pretty simple, so it'll be a slow start"

A ship Skar recognised as a Z-95 Headhunter flashed up on screen behind him.

"A pirate group have been causing quite a problem in some of our systems recently, and although their attacks have only been minor, they are damaging nonetheless. High Command have finally decided to do something about them, and we're the people to do it. A fake target is being set up on a planet not far from here, which our scanners have confirmed drew them into us. They number six of the Headhunter's behind me, accompanied by a Neb B escort ship. No prizes for working out our goal here"

A few laughed, but Skar called out.
"Bet it's not that simple though is it?" He smiled

"In a way, no. We will be using our tie fighters, but the problem we have is their limited shield capabilities. Whatever you do, don't get hit"

"Well duh" Skar grinned.

Trevor laughed and waved towards the door opening to his right, into the hanger of the docked ship. Skar let the squadron start through it, and caught onto Trevor's side.

"How you hanging in without an XO?" He asked

"Could be worse" Trevor shrugged, "Kind of nice to be able to formulate plans without having to run them by someone"

"Fair point"

"How's being a Flight Leader going?"

"Unfortunately I'm about to find out" Skar grimaced, as Trevor patted him on the back.

"Don't worry too much, it's a simple mission and I'll keep my eye on you just in case"

"Thanks"

Skar's shyness had begun to evaporate under the pressure of the Nazgul lifestyle. His job, particularly his new role, meant a nervous hesitation could get someone killed. Normally that sort of pressure straightens someone out. At least, he hoped it would.

Cyleaf Aehait was a Zabrak enlisted into the Imperial Navy for some time now. His career folder seemed to grow constantly, from having been poisoned by a snake and crashing to spending hard time over that incident. There was always one man that seemed to be right alongside him, he was even there after Cyleaf's stint in the brig. But with time even that changed; Than had retired and Cy missed his friend greatly.

Unfortunately with Than's departure they took the one thing that had become his legacy and Willcontq's; Kaph Squadron. With Will leaving the "Big Kaph 4" broke up and things went down from there. Demonic retired, Than tried to hold it together while the Zabrak was moving back and forth between the Academy and flying; Than had held the squad together marvelously.

Three days ago an important message had arrived, a lengthy letter from Than and new transfer orders from Shazam. With a heavy heart Aehait read the letter, tears streaked his cheeks. A friend who was always there for him, more like a brother then a wing mate or SC had left. Cyleaf didn't blame Than Sion for not talking to him in person as the man's emotions must have been running on overdrive but he did want to visit his friend sometime.

That was how the Zabrak found out about Kaph being disbanded and another squadron being formed. It felt like a fitting choice. Now Shazam had put him in the LC's former squadron under Trevor Evenson a great pilot in his own right.

What was Kaph without them?

Now sitting in uniform the Zabrak listened to Trevor give details of the new mission. Having arrived yesterday evening Cy still felt tired from the trip but he would have time to rest later. This was his new home and although the pain was still there he would have to make the best of it.

"A pirate group has been causing quite a problem in some of our systems recently, and although their attacks have only been minor, they are damaging nonetheless. High Command have finally decided to do something about them, and we're the people to do it. A fake target is being set up on a planet not far from here, which our scanners have confirmed drew them into us. They number six of the Headhunter's behind me, accompanied by a Neb B escort ship. No prizes for working out our goal here"

Shrugging to himself Cyleaf thought that this would be just another small fight, show force and watch the enemy tuck tail. They had way more firepower in the two escort ships then probly needed but some pilots here were fresh out of the academy and a little reassurance went a long way.

Once the meeting was over Cy returned to his newly assigned quarters and changed out of the uniform and into his flight suit. Most of his belongings were still tucked away giving the room a vacant storage type appeal.

Dressing quickly he looked down at the mat black ensemble, everything was the same except for the patch on his right shoulder. The uniform was new apportioned last night but the insignia made his arm feel heavy, weighted down. For what seemed the tenth time Cyleaf would have to re-prove himself showing this new squadron what it takes to have been an elite.

Leaving the room with his helmet tucked into his side and small pack on his back holding his personnel weapon Cyleaf headed towards the hanger. For once his face looked as grim as the skull tattoo upon it.

Rogue lead his four fighters toward the planet, following the Trevor's flight. He hadn't expected to be put in a flight leader's spot right off, but he would make do. He was leading with Cyleaf off his port wing and Skar and Casca off to his starboard, slightly after. For now, he had them in typical finger shaped formation. More complicated flight manuevers could be worked on later, once they had more time flying together.

oO The pirates target is on the planet's surface, so we have to go in after them, but the z-95 handles a lot better in the atmosphere then a Tie. We'll have to watch each other.Oo

He didn't know what power settings his flight members were using, but he had altered his power settings to put as much as he could to his lasers and his excuse for shields. So he in order to stay at cruising speed he was still at max throttle.

"Five to Flight. Everyone listen up. We've got to go into the atmosphere, so remember, z-95's with their wings can handle better down there. So watch each other, and don't try to pull all the fancy stuff you might pull in zero-G." He radio to his flight.

He didn't wait for a response, Trevor's flight was already into the atmosphere, and he could see the glowing at the edges of his own shields as the fighter sank into the atmosphere. The Dreadnaught they had launched from had entered the planet's orbit from hyperspace on the opposite side of the planet from the reported position of the pirate's Neb B.  It, the Lancer, and an escort of Nazgul's Three flight, were now closing on the Neb. As the fighters in atmosphere closed on the setup target his sensors lit up the red color blips of enemy craft.

"Skar, you and Casca hang back, once we engage then split off. Go get yourselves each a kill." he ordered his second flight.

"Aye aye sir." Skar radioed back.

Splitting his flight might not be the best idea, but they had to take the Headhunters down fast and get onto that Neb-B. They only had a short ammount of time, before the frigate ran for the hyper limit. These pirates were definitely confident all right. They had brought all 6 fighters down to strafe the target. A light shuttle or transport of some type he couldn't recognize held orbit over it all watching the action.

"Skar, you and Casca go knock that transport out of the sky." he ordered, changing his plan.

Suddenly four of the Headhunters broke off their strafing as someone spotted them. In a surprise move, they came racing up to engage.

oO Well not that surprising, we're basically between them and their base ship. So they had to get by us to get to the frigate and get a ride out of this system.Oo

One Flight opened fire on the closest pair, while second angled for Rogue and Cyleaf.

"Cyleaf, your up first for us. You lead, I'll cover." Rogue radioed to his wingman.

"Yes sir" came the reply.

Rogue eased off the throttle and jinked his fighter out of formation, then back into formation on Cyleaf's wing.

Trevor felt good to be back in the seat of a TIE, even if it was what he considered to be an underpowered base model. It had shields, but they were far weaker then his regular interceptors, but he was sure of himself none-the-less. He was confident enough in his skill as a pilot to know he could handle any quirks the craft could throw at him and still be lethal, but he wasn’t going to let himself become cocky enough to think he was invincible. That was one part of him becoming an excellent pilot and living as long as he had. Another part of his skill was the unlike some pilots who would jump into their fighter and start thinking ‘look at me, I’m a fighter pilot, time to go kill things’, he was able to think clearly and analyze the situation during the heat of battle.

He double-checked one of his systems as the pair of Z-95s hurtled towards them, the drone of their engines masked by the scream of his own TIE. He made a quick throttle adjustment and checked his radar to make sure that Jegora was still with him. He was so used to Having Tokijin flying at his side that it made him really lose his focus if he thought how different it was to have her on leave again. He pushed the thought out of his mind and brought himself back to the task at hand, issuing an order to Jeg to spread apart and allow the Z-95’s to pass between them. The fighters were all close enough together now that even if they caught on to what the plan was they wouldn’t have enough time to change anything of it.

The start went off perfectly, with the Z-95’s splitting between them. Trevor threw his fighter into a loop followed closely by Jeg, inverting as he went and pulling out of the loop early to put himself behind his prey. The fighters had reacted faster then he had anticipated though, and he found himself once again playing chicken with his opponent. Jeg opened up first, letting off a series of green blasts that shook and destroyed his opponent’s fighter. Trevor waited a moment too long and his front shields glowed red as an energy bolt hit them, but his retaliation was swift and strong. A fury of blasts erupted from his cannons and pierced through the shields of the enemy Z-95. It exploded into a huge fireball before shrinking into nothing but carbon and debris. Trevor swerved to the right and had to chuckle as he caught Jeg slide through the field of debris on his way to follow Trevor. His shields glowed a dull pink but it was nothing too serious.

"Splash one" Jegora said dutifully over his comm. unit.

"Lead reports one bogey down also. Good flying kid...but watch out for the debris field eh?" Trevor replied, chuckling not only at what the rookie pilot had just done, but also at his own choice of words. He rarely liked to use military lingo to communicate with his squad mates. It bugged him even to be called ‘sir’.

“Alright, we’re not done here yet. Let’s go.” Trevor said, turning his mind back to the problem at hand. Nazgul 3 and 4 didn’t seem to be having any trouble with their fighters, and flight two had their opponents outnumbered two to one. He turned his fighter towards the rest of his flight and pushed his throttle to full.  Just as he was approaching his pilots, a massive explosion appeared ahead of him, followed by a shockwave that jolted his Tie. It appeared as if part of the whole sky had just exploded. The smoke slowly cleared and Trevor thankfully counted a pair of TIEs, but only a single remaining Z-95.

“Three and Four, did your other Z get caught up in that explosion?” Trevor asked, but the idea hit him before either of them could answer and he began to do a quick atmospheric gas check.

“Nope, he was the explosion.” Nazgul Three replied. “I think there’s some explosive gas pockets throughout the atmosphere, and when he flew through one the heat from his engines caught it on fire and it just exploded.”

Trevor didn’t even bother replying, his gas check proved the idea correctly. The air that had caused the explosion was ninety-eight percent hydrogen, and had probably ignited from the flame produced by the Z-95’s engines. “This is Nazgul One to all Nazguls. Make sure to keep your atmospheric scanner operating and giving you a constant readout. If you get into a hydrogen pocket, get out of there ASAP. Our engines won’t set it off, we’re just ion driven, but if you lead a Z-95 into there or try firing, you’re toast.”

“Roger that.” Was the response that came over his comm. unit a couple of times.

“Alright, lets get back to work on these Z’s.”

OOC: So far so good everyone. Apparently we’re supposed to wrap this story up soon, so lets get moving. I like what I’ve seen so far though!

Max acknowledged Trevor's order, and swooped away with Atrick towards the final Headhunter.

    "Atrick?" called Max into the intercom, looking out the rear window of his fighter. "You around?"

    "Behind you Max don't worry. How'll we take this guy out?" replied Atrick, as they closed in on the last Headhunter.

    "I think a normal sandwich should suffice."

    "Copy, Max. You wanna go ahead, or will I ?"

    "Whatever makes you happy," called Max disgruntledly into his Comm. He was too preocupied with the recent change from Kaph, and the Nazgul base seemed so new to him. He was the only former Kaph in Nazgul now, and one of the few left in the Navy, the only other he really knew was C-3. He was still a "Kaphie" to the Nazgul pilots, and he knew it would take a lot of convincing to get them to accept him in. he became aware of a crackling in his ear, and re-tuned his comm-link to the same wavelength as Atrick.

    "Say again Kaph 4?"

    "Get him off me Max! He's on my tail! Do your job!"

    "Right," answered Max, powering up his engines to full, and speeding after the pirate. It was dangerous with the gas bubbles in the atmosphere, but he had to get that Headhunter.

    "Max..." wavered Atrick, as a bolt flew dangerously close to his right side.

    "I'm coming, don't worry." Max gripped the control yoke with his hands as tightly as he could, his finger resting on the fire button. Was he close enough... almost. Just a bit more.

    "Damn Max!" It was Trevor. "Shoot now!" Max squeezed the fire button, the green tongues of flame flickering from his wingboard cannon, burying deep in the hull of the enemy. The Headhunter pulled away, diving down and to the left. Max followed him down, matching his every move.

    "Sorry Buddy..." whispered Max to himself. "No pirating for you anymore." Max fired two missiles at the crippled craft, both finding their mark. The pirate exploded in a ball of flame, the remains faliing to the ground below. Max zoomed through the remainder of the explosion, catching up with Atrick.

    "Right At..." said Max into the Comm. "Let's get back to that Flight."

Two Flight had joined up, and now the four of them streaked after One Flight in the race to get to the Neb-B. Of the two Headhunters that had come after Cyleaf and him, each of them had gotten one, with a little help from those hydrogen pockets. The transport that he had sent Skar and Casca had been short work for the two experience pilots.  In fact, Rogue's flight had four of the squadron's five experienced pilots, himself included. Trevor had three newer pilots with him in his flight.

The eight Tie were out of the atmosphere now and closing in on the frigate from one side. Being back in space would reverse the advantage the Headhunters had in the atmosphere. But so far no more fighters had been detected, and the Neb-B was between Nazgul and the closing Lancer frigate, Norse, and the Dreadnaught, Viceroy.  It was an old fashioned squeeze play. Trevor lead the squadron in a screaming pass over the frigate from port to starboard, and as soon as they clear of its line of fire, the Viceroy opened fire with her forward weaponry. The squadron came around again on the frigate's port side, but this time, the frigate's guns came after them. The squadron broke apart like an explosion, each fighter trying to get out of the sights of the frigate's anti-starfighter guns.

Rogue threw his fighter around and dumped all power to his engines to get beyond a half klick from the frigate. Once he was clear, he threw all power back to recharging the lasers and the shields. Once the switches were set, he started looking for Cyleaf. As he did so, Trevor's voice rang out the message that more pirate starfighters had appeard. He brought his Tie around and started for the Y-wings. The Headhunters were more manueverable but the Y-wings had more firepower. That made them the greater threat at the moment. He also heard the request for the Norse to help them.
With her joining in, it was about to get confusing.

"Rogue to Two Flight. Everyone make sure your transponder is on. I don't want anyone getting hit by the Norse." he radioed to his flight. He then repeated the call out to the entire squadron.

He switched the power settings back to normal to give him more speed, and closed on the Y-wings. The three of them were in a single flight and set to pass right by him. Either these guys were newbies or they were just very, very brave. 3 Y-wings didn't have a chance against a Lancer frigate, but these guys were on course to attempt it. The other thing about the Y-wing over the Headhunter was the Y-wing had a hyperdrive, which meant even if they stopped the frigate, the Y-wings could hyper out with a message. And that couldn't be allowed.

Now he was good, but in regular Tie even he wasn't good enough to take on 3 Y-wings alone. He needed help from his wingmen. That or missles.

"Rogue to Two Flight. Need a little help here." He radio.

"Skar to Rogue, be there in a second." came the reply.

Rogue rolled on the rear Y-wing and opened up with his lasers. They started picking apart the Y-wing's rear shields, it took several hits before thw Y-wing broke off. But Rogue didn't follow, he kept after the leaders. He only had a few more seconds before he hit the range limit of the Norse's guns and they opened up. It was now a race against the clock. Who would get the Y-wings first, him or those goofs on the Norse.

Trevor almost couldn’t believe what he was doing. He knew completely that the move they were planning to make could be suicide for Nazgul’s Flight One, but he was going to go through with it anyway. It probably wouldn’t work well enough either, even with the shields down he’d have loved for missiles or bombs rather than the puny lasers he was going to be forced to use. The effect they would have would be nowhere near devastating, and they’d need pinpoint accuracy to pull this off in a single pass.

“Alright, Flight Two, you guys are up. Go in top speed and make an opening for us, we’re going to be a second behind you and hoping that we can get in and out while the turrets on the Neb are still trying to properly locate us. May the force be with you.” He told flight two, and watched as they sped past him and began strafing the Neb B. The cannons on board the ship went ablaze, red tracers filling the space between the cruiser and flight two. Soon a sea of green was added as Flight Two added to the chaos. Trevor spotted small streams of flame burst from various areas of the engine casing, but not enough to cause any serious damage.

“Here we go, boys.” He said, pushing his own throttle to its stops and following the same path that Flight Two had used. He didn’t keep an eye on his radar to see who was with him, he’d check that afterwards. As he neared the target he instinctively placed his hand where he would have found the missile aim controls on an Interceptor but was reminded harshly that the TIE didn’t have such a weapons system. Cursing under his breath and wondering why command would bother sending them out in such ‘outdated’ fighters, he shifted his hand to the cannon control box and began spinning the control knobs to get a lock on the target.

He heard a loud and fast paced beeping coming from behind him and swore louder, something that was as common to him during flight as breathing. On the ground he wasn’t much for swearing until he got into a combat situation, but in the air it was a completely different story. He swung his head back for a second to check the rear view port, wincing when he saw red tracers filling it and occasionally blocking out the view of the fighters behind him. Whoever was manning the turret shooting at him must have had a four-leaf clover in his pocket, because seconds later Trevor’s craft shook and the small amount of shields he had dropped to zero percent.

“Are you alright, sir?” Jeg asked quickly, and Trevor nodded before remembering that such a motion wouldn’t be seen.

“Yeah, it was just my shie-“ He started, but got cut off before he could finish. Another lucky shot clipped the top of his wing and damage indicators all around the TIE started blinking. A quick look at the damage readouts showed that the upper portion of his port wing was missing. “Never mind, spoke to soon. Lets keep going.” Trevor ordered fearlessly, pressing slightly on his starboard nozzle control pedal to help correct the pull that had began happening on his fighter.

“I don’t think your ship is going to make it sir. . .” Jeg mentioned, but Trevor shrugged it off and kept flying towards his target. The craft felt as if it was falling apart around him, it had began to shudder and he really began to doubt whether or not he was going to make it out of this one. He was a pilot who could put up with more than most, having once flown with a fighter that had overheated him beyond the point of heat shock, and this was only somewhat different from that occasion. This time it wasn’t him who would get him killed, but his fighter flying apart at any given moment that would do the job.

He jerked his controls to the right to straighten out a little bit and began firing early. The fighter rocked far more then it should have with each cannon shot, but he could tell that having most of the power in the lasers was helping. Even from a distance, each shot was causing visible and internal damage to the freighter. He was no longer concerned about getting hit by the guns on the Neb B; he had passed their firing angle and was clear of that problem. His only concern now was losing another piece of his fighter and veering into the side of the Neb.

“Alright, I’m going to cut my pass short, There’s no way I’m going to make it out of this one and make it for a second. I’ve got to get back to the Dreadnaught if I’m going to continue to help out. I’ll either find some backup fighter, or I’ll try to command from inside.” He explained as he pulled away from the port side of the Neb B. Rogue knew that as one of the more experienced pilots he’d be in charge, Trevor didn’t even need to mention that.

He didn’t look back as he skillfully maneuvered the damaged fighter back toward the Dreadnaught. About thirty seconds later he heard a few whoops over the comm. and assumed that his skilled group of pilots had managed to disable the target. He still didn’t look back though, instead switching his comm. to the frequency that the dreadnaught’s air control was on and began to broadcast.

“This is Nazgul Leader, I’m fighting to fly a damaged fighter back into the hanger. I suggest you have a fire control crew and possibly a medic standing by when I show up, this isn’t going to be a graceful landing.” He said with a grim smile to himself as the message was acknowledged. He had found that he was pressing harder and harder on the right control pedal to keep himself flying straight, and that his readouts showed he was losing more and more of his left wing.

Finally, as if he had been waiting a year to get there, he was staring directly into the hanger bay of the dreadnaught. His power systems in the fighter had begun to flicker on and off and he was cursing as his display monitors went fuzzy. A few seconds before he slipped through the hanger opening, his ship shut down entirely. He lost all control and engine power. Bracing for impact, he covered his face with his arms and let the fighter drift into the hanger bay. It dipped low enough to catch the bottoms of the wings on the floor and tipped forward, sliding across the hanger at over 800 km/h. Tools and machinery went flying; Techs pressed themselves against walls to avoid being smashed by the freight train.

The fighter came to a crashing stop against the far wall of the hanger, the fuel tanks immediately bursting into flames below the cockpit, which had been thrown onto its side with the front view port facing out into the hanger. Trevor coughed from the smoke and could feel as he did so that he had plenty of broken ribs. He tore at his harness but couldn’t get it undone. One of the techs came rushing over with a pair of cutters in his hand and began snipping the harness belts. Trevor was dragged from the fighter and laid on the floor a distance away.

He could feel two people tearing at his suit and helmet, his face stinging as it was pulled off and hit with a blast of warm air from the burning fighter.

“Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding up? Can you hear me?” A frantic looking medic was rattling off to him, but he raised a hand up and put it over her mouth to quiet her.

“Wouldn’t it have been smarter to ask me if I could hear you first, before asking me those other questions?” He asked. She didn’t reply, just looked at him dumbfounded as her partner checked his various injuries. Trevor flinched as the man touched one of his ribs, and without thinking about it Trevor looked downward at his chest. He could see various bruises already forming and a couple of places already swelling where he had broken ribs. “Can we get me taped up really well? I need to get back into the fight.” Trevor said, this time both medics staring at him as if he was crazy.

“Sorry sir, but there’s no way you’re going back out there in this condition, you wouldn’t make it five minutes.” The male medic told him this time, and Trevor waved him off.

“I’ve had worse, and five minutes would be all that I need.” Trevor explained, but the medics refused to let him move at all until they had finished giving him a look over and had taped his chest tightly. Trevor spotted an officer standing a few feet away, looking down at him and shifting his weight from leg to leg as if he were nervous about something. “Do you have something to say, buddy?” Trevor asked.

“Your squadron has accomplished their task and will be returning to the hanger within a few minutes. The Norse has cleaned up all enemy fighters, and the Viceroy is going to be moving in to send in a boarding party within fifteen minutes. . .Er. . .Congratulations on the mission, and on surviving the landing.” The officer said before saluting and hurrying off towards the bridge.

OOC: All right, everyone is allowed to keep making posts; I want someone to show me how you guys ended up finishing off the engines. Lets think a little bit out of the box for that, people. Aside from that, I’ll be wrapping this story up for good on Saturday, if I have time. (or tomorrow night, or Sunday.)

Trevor stood up roughly and tossed his flight jacket back onto his body, leaving it unzipped and exposing the bandages below. He ran a hand through his blonde hair as he glanced at the wreckage of his fighter, amazed that he came out of it as decently as he did. Toks will kill me when she hears about this one.. He thought to himself as the first of his squadron began to re-enter the hanger. Most of them docked gracefully with the landing claws, although some of the newer pilots took a minute or two longer than those who had more experience with the devices.

Rogue was one of the first pilots out and dashing down the stairs from the catwalks to the hanger floor, his head directed at the wreckage of Trevor’s fighter against the far wall. The smell of burnt fuel was in the air and it was plain to see that the fighter had slid across a good portion of the floor; the scratch marks were an inch deep leading up to the wreckage.

“Rogue, everyone make it?” Trevor called, causing Rogue to pull his eyes away from the decimated fighter. Already clean up droids were working to cut apart the wreck and dispose of it.

“Yeah, we’re all good. How about you?” He queried, nodding at the bandages and various cuts and bruises Trevor had. Trevor looked himself up and down as best as he could and simple shrugged.

“I’m still walking, can’t be that bad. I’ve got a horrible feeling that after you wreck your 5th TIE they start charging you.. That one might come out of my paycheque.” He laughed, his chest hurting slightly as he did so. By now the rest of the squadron had shown up, some of the new pilots couldn’t help but stare at the wreckage, others were glancing back and forth between the smashed fighter and their commander. Those who’d seen Trevor in action, like Skar, knew that it was nothing short of luck that kept the commander alive half the time. Trevor felt he’d been blessed enough to inherit the incredible luck that all Nazgul commanders seemed to posses.

Before Trevor could even bother explaining what had happened, another bridge assistant had shown up at his side and was pressing a small folder into his hands.

“You’re wanting in the briefing room, you’re going to be debriefed shortly. We’ll be jumping back to Abrae soon as well, your work in this sector is finished.” The assistant told Trevor, who nodded in reply and turned to his pilots.

“I think you all did well out there, but now we get to go see how the command brass thought we did. Lets all get to the briefing room, then the drinks will be on me.” Trevor said, drawing a few grins from those in the group. They turned and headed towards the hanger doors, down the hall, and ended up a few minutes later in the sparsely furnished briefing room.

Trevor took a seat in one of the rickety chairs along side the rest of his squadron and waited for the captain to enter the room and debrief them. His small folder included most of the details of the debriefing, and Trevor was somewhat shocked as to how the crew of such a small cruiser that seemed understaffed could come up with a debriefing speech so quickly. Had Trevor not read the folder, he would have assumed that a bridge assistant or tactical officer would be giving them the debriefing. His thoughts were cut short as the captain walked onto the stage, appearing somewhat overdressed in a room full of sweaty, tired pilots. His uniform wasn’t in perfect shape, but Trevor assumed he had been pacing the bridge during the battle, not sitting in his quarters ironing and preparing his uniform for their debriefing.

“Let me start by saying ‘congratulations’ to the pilots of Nazgul Squadron. You performed admirably; facing dangers we hadn’t anticipated yet pulling through without a single living casualty to our side. Impressive flying in slightly outdated craft, and excellent coordination by your command staff. Lt. Evenson can’t take the credit all by himself for this one, his flight leads showed excellent leadership capabilities during his absence after being struck by a turret shot.

“Now, into the details of how things proceeded. You successfully destroyed the squadron of Headhunters, as well as another flight of them plus a flight of Y-wings. We noted some excellent tactical strategies that we hadn’t seen before, as well as some strategies that would have made your training instructors flinch, yet pure luck seemed to help you pull out.“ The captain continued, taking a quick breath before launching back into the debriefing. “The attack on the Neb-B went almost flawlessly, with the exception of Lt. Evenson having the entire left side of his fighter get destroyed. Although returning to the dreadnaught’s hanger bay after such an incident was very unorthodox, it seemed to work well and allowed him to continue broadcasting orders to his squadron.”

Unorthodox? Did they want me to stay out there and die? Trevor thought to himself with a frown, glaring up at the captain. Probably some cocky navy brat who has never set foot in a fighter in his life and followed his father around the bridge of the ship until he was old enough to go to the academy himself. Thinking that it’d be more logical for me to stay out there and die rather then at least attempt to maneuver myself back to the hanger. Trevor crossed his arms, anger burning behind his eyes. He had to exercise extreme control not to stand up and begin yelling at the captain about how flying wasn’t as easy as it seemed from the bridge of a ship.

“…The Neb-B was very recently brought into the possession of the Vast Empire Navy, a boarding crew stepped aboard a few moments ago and explained that the life support systems had been disabled when the engines went out, causing any crew that had survived the explosion in the engine compartments to die from lack of oxygen. We will be jumping back to Abrae within the hour if everything stays on schedule. We thank you for your assistance, men. You performed better then any of us could of hoped, and for that I congratulate you again.” With this, the captain nodded and stepped back from the podium. A small amount of scattered applause could be heard through the room, but not quite enough for the captain. He straightened his back uncomfortably and about-faced, stepping swiftly out of the door with a look of anger on his face.

“Apparently we can fly well enough, but no one knows how to clap?” Trevor asked, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the squadron, most of which shrugged.

“I didn’t necessarily agree with him that returning to the hanger was a dumb decision.” Skar said quickly, most of the squadron nodding to the comment. Trevor shrugged and stood up, stretching but stopping after a sliver of pain shot through his ribcage. He still had not done up his jacket, and ran a hand over the bandages.

“Well, that’s enough stupidity for one day. Let’s all go get a little smarter in the cantina, eh?” He asked, grinning as his squadron let out a series of whoops at the thought. They begin piling out of the briefing room and heading off down the hall. Trevor looked up at the ceiling tiles and couldn’t help but smirk. If only the captain had been around to hear that cheering, it would have totally destroyed his day.

*** MISSION SUCCESS ***

OOC: good job everyone. While I would have liked too see a little more participation and a longer story, I’m not going to complain because the squadron is full of people who are not yet comfortable writing with each other having just come from various places. Some are new, some are from different squadrons, some are coming out of retirement, and it’s all a big mess. But hey, it’s a mess that can write a half decent story. Let’s keep up the good work.