G’shlecc arrived at his berth’s door just as Lt. Evenson was exiting.  He nodded a quick salute to him and it was returned in fashion.  “What’s he doing in here?” he thought.  “Oh well, he’s the boss.”  He thought longingly of his bunk and how good it would feel to grab some shuteye.  It had been a long day.

When he woke up this morning he was trying to find a way to stay occupied in the Reserve Pilot Quarters on Abrae.  Life is rather slow when you’ve made it through the Academy and still have no assignment.  That all changed shortly before lunch.  He received a transmission on his datapad ordering him to report to Landing Pad 4 within the next 35 minutes for deployment. Cursing under his breath, he ran to his quarters and began throwing his possessions into his carryalls.  G was never the tidiest of packers, and this was true to form.
“I hope I’m not going to have to stand inspection anytime soon, or my ass is grass.” He fretted.  Of the two carryalls he owned all of his worldly belongings went into one, and his weapons into the other.  The weapons took priority.  He made sure the rifle, flechette pistol and thermal detonator were set on “safety”. “If that went off THAT would be bad.” He chuckled darkly as he double and triple checked the detonator.  He then had stowed his extra blaster and the Rodian dagger in his Pilot Pack.  Slinging the Pack over his shoulder and grabbing the two carryalls he made his way to LP-4.
  The ride from Abrae to the Atrus was uneventful, just him, a three other men, and a Twi’lek male.  When his shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, and he caught sight of the Atrus he was blown away.  G had seen holos, and heard about SSD’s, but to see one up close was breathtaking.  He had mostly recovered his senses when they landed.  No sooner had he retrieved his bags from the shuttle’s hold, then a Personnel Officer strode up, handed him his transfer papers and directed him to the launch hangar. 
  “Do I have time to grab a bite?” he inquired hungrily. “Only if  you want to walk to your next posting.  Your squadron is in Pre-Flight as we speak.” Came the snide response.
  G quickly snatched the papers, saluted, and ran like a mynok on fire to the hanger.

Now, he was on a different ship, on his way to a different system, still hungry, but way too tired to do anything but sleep. 
  He entered the berth and saw his bunkmate, Lamel looking a little wired and reserved looking darkhaired girl.  “You OK?” he asked Lamel cautiously.  He had briefly met her when he ditched his gear.  Their initial meeting was abbreviated by his wanting to get back to the hanger and see to the repainting of his fighter. 
  “Yeah, the damn fire alarm woke me out of sound sleep.  I’m fine.” Lamel stated tersely.  G’shlecc wasn’t overwhelmingly convinced by her tone. 
  He went on, “OK, just checking.  Sorry, about cutting out earlier, wanted to get my fighter sqared away.” 
  “I understand.” She said.  “This your first time out?” she asked. 
  “Yep, you can still smell the “New Speeder Scent” on me.” He joked. 
  Lamel eyed him, and the other girl moaned. After a heartbeat Lamel said, “Yeah.” Turning to his right G streached out his hand and said,
  "Hi, G'shlecc Atrasin." "Annaliese Sandrean."she replied as she shook his hand. 
  “Well, if you don’t mind I’m gonna get back to the rack and try and grab as much sleep as I can.” she said.
  “No go ahead, I was about join you.” G said quickly.  Lamel gave him a look that screamed, “Excuse Me!”  G’shlecc realized what he said a microsecond after it left his lips.  “NO, I meant, I’m gonna go to sleep as well, not JOIN you. I mean we don’t even know each other and I’m new, and we fly together, and I’m just going to shut-up now.” He blurted.  Lamel nodded slowly, and slid into her bunk. 
  “Good night.” She stated, as she rolled over.
  G stood there for a moment looked at Annaliese and thought, “Nice job noob.  Now she thinks you’re a dumbass.”  He sighed and slid into his bunk as Sandrean did the same.  “I hope this day gets better.” He mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes. 

  He awoke sometime later. Momentarily disoriented, he checked his chrono.  “7.5 hours.  Good.” He thought.  He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Lamel securing the last fastener on her boot.
  “’Bout time you woke up. I thought I’d have to call the morgue for a pick-up.”  She quipped.  G was relieved to see her in brighter spirits.  “We’re almost to our jump-off point. Trevor is gonna have a briefing in about an hour, has suggested that we get some grub.  Care to join us?” she asked.
  He nodded an affirmative, and pulled on his boots.  “Sorry about earlier, I was dead tired.” G said. 
  Lamel quickly replied” No problem, we’ve all been there before.”  G, Annaliese and Lamel headed out the door and toward the mess.  “So, tell me all about G’shlecc Atrasin.” Annaliese chirped.  G looked at her, smiled and said “OK, you asked for it.”

Rogue woke with one hell of a headache. He started to sit up but immeadiately gave that up. It just hurt way too much.

This what I get for drinking with a Wookiee and letting him choose the booze. Ugh, I gotta fly today too.

He laid there for a few more minutes, before he risked turning his head and looking around. Rusty was snoring slightly in his bunk on the other side of the room. Since Rusty was a Wookiee, they had given him one side of the room, and Crimson had taken the bunk above Rogue's.

Good thing I'm on the bottom bunk. Probably would have fallen out and busted my head.

Moving slowly and carefully, he eased his way up and then out of his bunk. He stumbled and staggered his way across the room to the refresher. Once inside, he got a glass of water from the sink, and poured it down his throat. He filled a second glass and sipped it slower this time. After he had that one down, he slowly moved over to the shower and turned it on, cranking the temperature up high. He stripped out of his flight suit and climbed into the shower.

After soaking under the hot water for like thirty minutes, he started to feel somewhat human again. He climbed out, wrinkly skin and all. He dried off and returned to his bunk where he had another flightsuit stored. He pulled on yet another flightsuit, this one was one of the squadron ones modified with the patches on the shoulders. Still moving carefull and slowly, he sat back down on his bunk and pulled on his flight boots. He heard Crimson and Rusty waking up around him as he started looking for his guns.

He found them hanging from the chair he had been sitting in the night before. He grabbed both, slung them over a shoulder and headed for the door. Despite the hangover, he felt hungry. He grabbed his datapad on his way out and headed for the mess hall.

I hope the food aboard this tub is at least decent. Cause there's at least a couple of decent messes aboard the Atrus.

He made his way through the short line of people and filled a tray with breakfast foods and two mugs of caf. It took most of his concentration and skill as a pilot to get the tray to a table without spilling it. Then he deposited his blasters and datapad on the table and settled into a chair. He picked up his fork and started picking at his food.

While he ate and drank, he picked up his datapad and started checking for any messages. To his surprise, there was only one, and that was from Trevor. It was news telling him the squadron had gotten a new pilot, a transfer from Devil Squadron there aboard the Thanatos. The transfer pilot was to be in his flight as Nazgul 8. And he would need to be issued weapons from the spares the squadron had brought.

Well this is good and bad news. Good that I have a full flight, but bad that we're going into a possibly really hostile mission with a brand new wingman. At least I brought plenty of guns to issue to him

Turning the pad off, he turned full attention to getting the caf and breakfast down so he would be in some shape to fly.

Trevor woke up with a mild pounding in his head. He hadn’t been drinking the night before, so he quickly eliminated the option of a hangover. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes then ran a hand through his hair as he glanced around the darkened room. None of his roommates had woken up yet, although he didn’t blame them. A quick glance at the dim display of his chrono told him it was still fairly early, and they probably hadn’t gotten out of hyperspace yet. Scratch that, we definitely haven’t. If we had, they would have had someone here pounding on the door to get us all out there. Guess I’d better check how long it is till we show up. Trevor thought to himself with a yawn as he slid down from the top bunk.

Without bothering to put his boots or jacket back on, he opened the door to the cabin and quickly shielded his eyes from the bright lights of the hallway. He took a minute to straighten his shirt out before grabbing the nearest crewman by the sleeve, getting quite an odd look as he did so. “S’cuse me, do you know when we’re supposed to revert back to real space?” Trevor asked, waking up a little faster as he spoke. The crewman looked at his own chrono and did a few mental calculations before looking back up at Trevor and replying.

“We should be out in about two hours. Is that all?” Trevor nodded and released the sleeve of the crewman, then turned back into the cabin and quietly tiptoed across the floor and into the bathroom. When he had finished cleaning himself up and managed to grab a clean flight suit out of the drawer beneath his bunk, he slipped into it and grabbed his boots off the floor. He again hit the access to open the door and again raised a hand to block the light from his eyes, blinking them a few times in an attempt to make them stop hurting. He set the boots down on the floor and stepped into them, quickly kneeling to do each one up. When he had finished he glanced off in both directions of the hallway, doing his best to remember where the mess was.

He shrugged to himself and stood up, walking down the hallway in a random direction. Luck was with him this morning though, as he quickly found it not too far from their own cabin. The line-ups were still short, so he was able to quickly get a bottle of water and a plate of food. For some reason he didn’t feel too tempted to devour the food though, as he normally would have before a mission.

He was feeling uneasy, and despite what Darkhawk had told him the night before, he still had to contend with the fact that Tokijin wouldn’t be under his wing during this, and it’d be the first time she’d seen combat since she had taken her leave of absence from Nazgul. I’m just not sure how to feel about this one. She’ll be out there..but not out there with me. Sure, a few people will be doing their best to make sure she’s all right, but it’s not the same as in a fighter squadron. In Nazgul it’s a one-on-one ‘I’ve got your back’. Not a group of people who have to pay attention to everything onboard their own ship and hope they can help out those fighting with them. Oh well, Naval High Council knows best. Trevor thought to himself grumpily as he downed the last of his water bottle and dumped the rest of the food in a disposal unit. He hadn’t noticed Rogue sitting not too far off, obviously coping with a hangover.

Still got myself a while to kill. Maybe I should go over a few pre-checks of the fighter, make sure those Devil bastards haven’t messed around with them. Trevor thought to himself as he started towards the cramped primary hanger on board the Thanatos. It didn’t take him too long to find his way back there, and only took a moment to find his primary tech.

“Hey, Jones! C’mere a sec.” Trevor shouted to an average height man who was standing part way across the hanger and cleaning a tool off with a dirty rag. Despite his earnest attempt, he seemed only to be smudging the tool worse. At the sound of his name he tilted his head upwards slightly, then began slowly walking in the direction of Trevor, obviously in no rush.

“You should see the crap they give us to work with. I ask for a clean rag and they give me this. Looks like it just got dunked in a tank of oil waiting to be recycled.” Jones muttered, tossing the useless rag on the deck and staring down angrily at his smeared wrench. Trevor just grinned and looked up at the TIE.

“Is she in top shape?” Trevor asked, reaching up and touching a spot that looked as if it had been recently welded.

“Yes sir. That there though, we – well - I, installed a little extra something for you. Nothing major, just a system to overcharge either the weapons or engine systems. I know you can do that already, but this will give a boost of power beyond the maximum levels you can reach. Slightly dangerous if overused, but perfect for a quick escape.” Jones said, glancing up once more and noting the look of surprise on Trevor’s face. He shrugged again and glanced around at the rest of the fighters. “We had some pilots in here earlier today requesting to look at their TIE’s, but I guess they weren’t expecting you to bring your own tech crew. None of us recognized any of them and wouldn’t let them anywhere near the fighters.”

Trevor nodded his approval. Go figure, their commander tries to start a fight with me, then tries to sabotage our fighters. I’ll have to have a word with Darkhawk about this later. Trevor thought to himself quickly before replying to Jones. “Smart move. The other squadron in here doesn’t seem to be too fond of us. Thinks we’re stealing their mission or something along those lines. So I’m correct in assuming that everything will be good to go come an hour and fifteen minutes from now?”

Jones snapped a salute, despite the fact that most techs never would. Despite their respect to the pilots they worked for, and the respect they received in turn from their pilots, the relationships between techs and pilots were usually incredibly casual, often joking and never bothering with formalities. Jones was an exception, one that Trevor appreciated. He returned the salute and Jones spoke. “You can be sure of that. Every single one is in top shape, and no problems are anticipated. We’ve been running the computers over everything to make sure there are no system faults. If anything fails on them now, it’ll be mechanical or caused by use and abuse out in the field.”

Trevor nodded and slapped Jones on the shoulder with a grin, thanking him silently for a job well done. Jones had been Trevor’s personal technician almost his entire time in the navy. The two had developed a close friendship, and when Trevor wasn’t spending time with Toks or the squadron he was usually helping Jones with his ship or sharing a drink with the man. The trust they had built was fairly solid, and Trevor appreciated having a tech that knew exactly how to set up his fighter for anything.

He left the tech to cleaning his tools up and climbed one of the flimsy ladders into his fighter. It still smelled fresh, despite having the top open to the oily scent of the hanger for the past few hours. He quickly began taking the protective plastic off the monitors, a task he hadn’t bothered with earlier and one that Jones hadn’t worried too much about. When he had finished the he booted up everything and began going through the self diagnostics, triple checking everything that Jones had already been through twice. When his tests came up nothing but green lights, he smiled to himself. Jones, you know-it-all bastard. Of course nothing’s going to be wrong with my fighter. Trevor thought to himself with a smirk as he leaned back into the seat and let himself relax slightly.

He pulled his data pad out of his flight suit pocket and turned it on. After a moment to load, he quickly began typing out a message before checking off all the people in his squadron and hitting send. They weren’t scheduled to leave for another hour, but he wanted to give them a quick rundown of the plan once more, and then get everyone to go over their fighters real quick. I imagine by the time we’re done all that; It’ll be just about time to leave. He thought as he stretched out inside the cockpit, letting his eyes shut and allowing himself a short nap.

*** 20 Minutes Later ***

Trevor awoke to the sound of something being thrown against the transperisteel of his cockpit’s view port. He opened his eyes in time to see a wrench clatter to the floor and Rogue standing not too far away, waving at him. Trevor glanced around and noticed that the entire squadron was there, although most were already looking around at their fighters. He rubbed his face with his hand and pulled himself out of the fighter, almost slipping down the ladder as his foot missed a rung. He decided it would be safer to jump the rest of the way, making a graceful landing next to Rogue.

“Good to see that everyone decided to show up.” Trevor said loudly, attracting the attention of his pilots. They slowly began to gather around, and he waited until everyone had arrived in front of him before he continued. “As you all know by now, we’ll be reverting back to real space soon, and at the point It’ll be pretty much time to scramble. Viper is going to be headed to the surface and we’re going to be doing our best up here. Some of you missed our original planning session, but that’s not a big deal. We’ll make you fit in somehow. All I can say about that is that I hope you can handle a blaster.”

None of the new arrivals looked very shaken by this, and Trevor had to feel pretty confident about that. They were briefed well, I suppose. He thought to himself as he eyed each face, looking for signs of fear or overconfidence. Few were to be found. “I don’t have much more to say, aside from have a chat with your personal tech and get everything sorted out with your fighters. I want everyone strapped in within five minutes of us reverting to real space. The sooner we get into the sky, the less bad guys we have to fight on our way to the corvette.” Trevor said, dismissing the group with a wave and heading back to his own fighter. Time for a little more naptime.. He thought to himself as he climbed the ladder, setting his personal comm. unit to an extra high volume to make sure he’d wake up if anyone said anything to him.

Trevor finished up the preflight rah-rah and everyone scrambled.  G dropped into his newly painted TIE and scanned the instrument panel.  All the readings posted 5x5.  He reached back for his Pilot Pack.  Opening it he saw his Flechette pistol, his D-18, A280 and the Thermal Detonator.  The Flechette and the D-18 would definitely come in handy. The A280 Armor Piercing might be a little too much for this trip, but you never know. The Detonator would only be used as a last resort.

  Hopefully, I won’t have to use this as a suicide weapon.  It sure would suck to get killed on my first mission.

  He closed the pack, and turned to his final checklists.  Over his com G could hear the others calling off their readiness. 

  “Nazgul 2 here.” reported Jeg.

  “Grrroowwwwllbarrrk!” roared Rusty (or something like that.)

  It finally reached him, and the first thing he thought popped out, “Nazgul 11, holla, holla.”

  Holla, holla. What the Crimson Hells was that.  Damn nerves.

  Embarrassed he prepared for launch.  He saw the Status Lights indicate the return to normal space.  Seconds later the launch bay door started to slide open.

  Trevor waited for the minimum clearance and launched.  One by one the fighters slid out of the Strike Cruiser.  Flight 1 took the lead, forming the head of the spear. Then Flight 2 dropped in and finally Flight 3.  G’shlecc took his position as the starboard wing of the Flight’s diamond.  G checked his scope, and saw Nazgul’s formation heading away from the maneuvering Task Force.  He saw the oncoming Enemy, and behind them the objective: the Commodore’s Corvette.  Then he saw them.  The reason he joined the Navy.  The reason he gave up his soft desk job to come out here:  Pirate fighters.

  "Five to Squadron, Got a lot on our target." Reported Rogue.  "Be advised. Pirate fighters are launching."

No Shit!
  They were coming in hot and fast. G slammed his throttle forward to match the rest of the Flight.  The distance was closing fast.  The cockpit became eerily quiet and space seemed to slow outside the plaz.  His focus sharpened, his breathing slowed and he smiled. 

  “TALLY HO!” he exclaimed as the first Bogey dived at him.  It was on.

“Be advised. Pirate fighters are launching,” Rogue said over the radio. Jegora checked his radar and saw multiple fast moving blips. Great, he thought, I knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as command said.

Throttling up to attack speed with the rest of his squadron, Jeg tried to get a visual on the enemies. They were still a few kilometers off, but they would soon be in visual range. He checked his radar again. Now that the enemy fighters were closer, his radar could make out the profiles.

Flipping on his comm. unit he radioed the rest of the squadron. “Squadron, be advised. We have approximately five Headhunter-type profiles, and four Cloakshape-type profiles.”

“Roger that, two,” Trevor responded. “Alright boys and girls, spread out the formation. Let’s punch a hole through these antiques.”

The squadron kept its relative formation, but the pilots spread out slightly. This would make the individual TIE’s harder to hit, and would provide them a wider fire lane. Jeg easily manipulated his controls, causing his Interceptor to move off Trevor’s wing. When that was done, he checked his radar again.

The hostile fighters were closing fast now. Jeg had to grin. His radar only showed nine old fighters. It would be relatively simple for Nazgul to punch through the ragtag squadron and board the target. Flipping a switch, Jegora brought his weapons online. He then picked a target, a Headhunter near the front of the pack.

A few more seconds and Trevor broke in over the radio. “Bogeys in range. Open fire.”

Jeg immediately depressed his fire button, along with the rest of his squadron. Green lasers lanced out from the TIE’s. All of the Imperial pilots had their lasers set to single fire mode, which meant the space between the TIE’s and the pirate ships was quickly filled with lasers. Jeg tried to keep track of the enemy fighters that went down. He saw Trevor blow up a headhunter, and the fighter Jegora himself had been shooting at spun off, one of its wings missing.

That was all he saw before he was through the enemy fighters. He slowed down, maintaining formation, while the rest of the squadron broke through the hostile fighters. He took a count of red blips, and saw only 4 remaining.  Three had Headhunter profiles, and one was a Cloakshape.

“Keep moving. We have to reach that freighter,” Trevor said.

Jeg hit his throttle to keep pace with Trevor. All of a sudden he heard a giant roar. It took him a minute to realize it was the wookie....Rusty, Jeg though his name was. He saw one of the Interceptors break formation and pull a sharp turn back towards the remaining enemy fighters.

Suddenly Rogue’s voice broke in over the comm. “Rusty, get back in formation!”

It was no use. Either the wookie was ignoring him, or he had simply turned his comm. unit off. Either way, he was still heading for the pirates. The pirates themselves were slow to react to a lone fighter, but soon they were moving in for the kill. Jegora had no doubt that in the four-on-one situation, Rusty would be in trouble.

Jegora didn’t know what to do. His instincts were to go help his squadron mate, but the mission hinged on the squadron reaching Riel’s ship, and now was the best chance they were going to get. It wasn’t Jeg’s decision, though, and all he could do was wait for Trevor to make a move.

After a few second of torn silence, Trevor’s voice rang out. “Nazguls, on me,” he said. With that he pulled a tight loop, the squadron following him. They were now flying towards the four remaining pirate fighters, and Rusty.

Trevor shook his head to himself as Rusty launched off in the direction they had just come from. The decision took him a few minutes to get completely sorted out in his head, but once it was made, he knew it was what they had to do. Can’t leave a squad mate behind, even if it means risking more lives. Which is a stupid philosophy but whatever. Trevor thought to himself with a frown as he gave the order for everyone to follow him back into battle. The original plan was to get aboard the corvette as soon as possible and avoid any hostile fighters outside the safety of the hanger, but the galaxy never seemed to want to coordinate with Trevor.

Luckily, it wasn’t working on the side of the pirates either. Four against a whole squadron was not good odds at all. Although Nazgul has pulled it off, in a sim..This is real life, and these guys know they can die. Trevor thought as they got a little closer. His thinking proved right on as two of the fighters broke off, heading back towards the safety of some of their own ships. The final two were brave, but this was one of the times that bravery was just another word for stupid.

Rusty fired off the first shots at the two fighters, who returned his actions with a barrage of their own. The front shields of the Nazgul fighters were peppered, but no serious damage was the result. With most of the pilots taking this as an invitation to kill, the space between Trevor’s pilots and those of the pirate forces was quickly filled with green once more, a curtain that was lifted when two explosions had appeared and quickly faded.

“Everyone, get on board that corvette now! No more of this stupidity, got that, Rusty?” Trevor asked, the annoyance in his voice evident. The pilot had taken his opportunity to be flashy and had caused himself and the rest of the squadron to be put in danger. A quick roar by Rusty, one that Trevor couldn’t identify as angry or annoyed followed his last comm. message. Trevor shook his head, “I can’t have my pilots being risked like that. I don’t care what your reasons were; we would have made it to the corvette just fine. Now everyone, back in formation. Let’s get this done.”

The words made enough of an impression on the pilots that he didn’t even get any objective roars from Rusty. The pilots formed back into their flights and headed back in the direction of Riel’s corvette, an object that seemed to be so close yet so far all at the same time. The space around them was now beginning to be filled with blasts from the other corvette’s anti-fighter guns, but they were at a range where it was pretty ineffective. A few would glance off the shields, but by the time they did that the energy carried by them had weakened and they merely knocked the shields down a percentage point or two.

“Ok, here’s the deal. The bay has the same type of magnetic fielding that the Star Destroyers use to hold air and pressure in. It’s nothing more then simply slipping through the field with your fighter. Once you’re through, touch down as far from the door as possible and grab your weapons. We’re going in and they know we’re on our way.” Rogue warned, shifting in his seat slightly so he could access his weaponry that much easier. Trevor nodded to himself as he undid a few of the belts that held him to the seat. They’d be entering fast which meant tons of danger from being hit from the back or plowing into the hanger wall, but he wasn’t planning on getting hit.

“I’m going in first, hopefully some of them go down as I fly in. Feel free to aim for people as you land, they’re going to be firing at us as we enter.” Trevor mentioned as he approached the hanger and cut his speed slightly. He could see a group of pirate standing beyond the magnetic screen, weapons ready. He didn’t bat an eye as he burst through the fielding and applied the airbrakes hard, his shields lighting up with fire from the pirate’s small arms.

A few of them dove out of the way as Trevor’s ship came howling through the field, but one wasn’t fast enough, getting speared by a laser cannon. Trevor’s TIE made a slight crunching noise as the wingtips contacted the durasteel hanger bulkhead, and heard a slightly sickening scream as he cut his engines and repulsors and the TIE dropped hard to the floor, crushing another pirate under one of the wings. Trevor shook his head as he twisted in his seat and grabbed for the weapons, preferring his own blaster pistol at the moment. His shields were still up and all the rector’s energy was being directed to them, so now it was just a matter of waiting until the rest of his pilots had landed. He began to prepare himself, ignoring the cries of pain from the pirate who had been impaled by his wingtip cannon.

“It’s going to be a tight squeeze for everyone, and no one leave your fighter until we’re all here. They’ve got some four men left in here, so we’ll have to all show up at once and pray they are terrible shots.” Trevor explained as he shoved a grenade into his pocket and placed the two satchel charges in a large backpack, alongside a few ammunition clips and some of their other supplies. He got a few verbal confirmations of his orders and sat back, staring through his rear view port and praying that the other fighters could stop faster then he could.

He noticed that Jeg was through next, who pulled off a near perfect high-speed landing, the only thing stopping him from scoring a ten out of ten was the fact that he crashed lightly into through a series of work benches with one wing. IronWeasle was next, his fighter dropping to the floor far too early and skidding sideways across the hanger, slamming loudly into the wall not too far from where Trevor was. Trevor winced as he saw a few of the solar panels fall to the floor, but knew that it was mostly cosmetic damage.

The next few landings went off decently, until it was Rogue’s turn. Trevor knew that of all the pilots there, Rogue was probably one of the most experienced, but he was soon reminded that all pilots could make mistakes. Rogue entered the hanger and slowed down to a respectable speed, but didn’t slow down quite far enough. When he cut power to everything, his ship dropped to the floor and skidded right at the back of Trevor’s. Trevor realized in the split second that what was going to happen probably wouldn’t end well, and threw himself back into the seat. He was frantically trying to get his seatbelts done up when he realized that he should have already been hit.

Slowly turning around, he looked through his rear view port and breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed Rogue’s wingtips a few inches away from his own wings. He threw an arm up in the air and Rogue shrugged back.

“Sorry boss.” He laughed over the comm., visually relaxing in his seat for a second. “Damn near crappy myself too, so don’t worry. Almost everyone is in now, by the way.” Rogue said, and Trevor glanced around. According to his visual inspection, all the fighters were now sitting in the hanger, pretty closely packed together. He could only see one more pirate left standing, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more.

“Everyone do a quick visual, and confirm that the only pirate left is the one having a little bit of a freak out between Nazgul Five and Nazgul Eight.” Trevor said over the comm. as he took his helmet off and set it aside, drawing his blaster and making sure the safety was off.

“That’s the only one I can see.”

“I’ve got no one else, although I think I crushed one when I landed.” Someone else said over the comm., a voice Trevor didn’t place in time.

“I nailed two of them. The bastards were diving out of Mel’s way and I got both of them.” Crimson said, a slight tone of disgust in his voice.

“Sounds good to me. That means he’s the only one left standing. On three, everyone pop the hatches and aim at him. We might be able to get him to surrender.” Trevor said, knowing the idea probably wouldn’t work, but also knowing someone faced with four or five people would be more likely to shoot out of panic and miss completely. As Trevor began counting, he saw Rogue lift his hand to the top hatch and undo it. Trevor did the same to his own, and when he reached three he slammed it open and stood up on his seat, blaster pistol pointed at the pirate. Six of the other Nazgul pilots who were in positions to shoot at him did the same thing, and Trevor grinned when the pilot jumped and almost dropped his weapon.

“We’re Nazgul squadron, from the VEN.” Trevor announced, glaring down at the pirate. “Surrender an-“ He started, but was cut off by a blaster bolt. The pirate crumpled to the floor and Trevor quickly looked around for the source. Rusty was holding his bowcaster to his shoulder and when he realized Trevor had spotted him, merely shrugged and let out a soft roar. Trevor shook his head but smiled, then grabbed his helmet off his seat. Sticking it near his face so that the comm. could pick up his voice, he gave some more orders. “All right, everyone. Out of your fighters, lets get our bearings and go.”

“TALLY HO!” he exclaimed as the first Bogey dived at him.  It was on.

  The Bogeys consisted of 5 ancient Headhunters and 4 Cloakshapes.  Nine against 12 would normally be decent odds, but their 9 were old when the Death Star was built, and Nazgul’s 12 were TIE Interceptors.  In other words, game over.  If he had been sitting outside his ship and above the battle, G would have seen 12 very deadly -motley-looking-  ships knifing toward 9 flying antiques.  He almost felt sorry for the pirates, almost. 

“Bogeys in range. Open fire.” Trevor’s voice rang out from the com.

  Twelve TIE’s opened up at once.  The void was cut by ribbons of green energy. For some this was the last thing they’d ever see, for G’shlecc it was prettiest sight he’d ever seen.  The shots laced out and caught 5 of the incoming pirates – giving them a one-way ticket to the Crimson Hells.  Jeg and Trevor each racked up a Z. Lams and Mel each got a Cloakshape.  G watched as his turbolasers reached out and turned a museum-quality Cloakshape into salvage yard-quality debris. 
                  Like a hot knife thru Blue Milk Butter!
  The remaining Bogeys turned tail.  Their bravado became as antiquated as their ships.

“Keep moving. We have to reach that freighter,” Trevor said.

  Suddenly, the unmistakable roar of a Wookiee filled his cockpit.  G looked out the viewport and saw Nazgul 7 break formation and pursue the remaining pirates. 
                    What is that damn Wookiee doing?
  “Rusty, get back in formation!” the pilot known as Rogue snapped.

  It was useless.  G knew that once a Wook got his blood up you couldn’t stop him, you could only hope to contain him.  The Wookies TIE grew smaller as it continued to chase the fleeing bandits. 

  “Nazguls, on me,” barked Trevor. 

  The anger in his voice was easily discernible.  Nazgul 1 broke hard right and laid in a pursuit angle.  The rest of the squadron followed suit.  Two of the four fighters turned to face the oncoming TIE’s.  The smarter ones kept going.  They opened up with a barrage of laser fire that, for the most part, bounced harmlessly off the Wookiees shields.  This seemed to be an unspoken signal for shortly thereafter Nazgul opened up.  No one could tell who got the two, but got they were.  Trevor’s voice ripped across the Com.  G had never actually heard someone bitch out a Wookiee before, but there are firsts for everything.  The squadron didn’t respond to Trevs’ blast – it didn’t need to.  Nazgul turned and headed for the corvette. 

  G didn’t see the shot that nailed Lams, but he heard it. 

"Son of a bitch!” Lams exclaimed.  G turned and saw the damage to her starboard solar panel.

"Are you alright Nazgul 10?  I see a hole in your wing.  Stay beside me.  Over.” Said G’shlecc.

  Lams reported back that she’d been somewhat injured.  G settled his TIE in on her starboard wing and nursed her to the corvette.  By the time he and Lams arrived Trevor, Rogue, the Wookiee, and the new guy had already landed.  He throttled back and angled his ship into the launch bay.  He could already see the others tucked in the cramped space.  A few bodies littered the floor, and one hung precariously from one of Evenson’s port lasers.  Everyone still had their shields up so the remaining defenders shot ricocheted harmlessly.  Atrasin jockeyed his craft into a space on the port side of the hanger, and set down.  As soon as he heard the clang of metal on metal he slid off his helm and watched Lams coax her punctured ship next to his.  Her landing was ragged. 
                  Not gonna win any awards for that.
  One by one the rest of Nazgul landed and filled the hanger.  G looked out at Lams and gave thumbs up in question.  She answered it, slowly.  Seeing the affirmative he turned in his seat and grabbed his pilot pack.  He quickly pulled out the blaster, Flechette pistol, and rifle.  He stripped off his flying harness and gloves, grabbed his double shoulder holsters, and strapped’em on.  He squirmed a bit for comfort.  The arms adjusted themselves and felt comfortable.  He snatched up the Blaster Rifle and flipped the safety. 
                              Locked and loaded.
Trevor’s voice crackled over the com. “Everyone do a quick visual, and confirm that the only pirate left is the one having a little bit of a freak out between Nazgul Five and Nazgul Eight.”

  G eyed the landing bay and said, “That’s the only one I can see.”

  Two more reports dropped in, and Evenson came back with a plan.  As he began counting G reached up for the hatch release with his left hand as he held the rifle in his right.  On three he popped up with the rest of Nazgul, and leveled his rifle at the lone surviving pirate.  The man twitched and G could swear he saw a patch of wetness forming between his legs as a half dozen barrels pointed at the man. 

    “We’re Nazgul squadron, from the VEN.” Trevor announced.  “Surrender an-“

  Trevor was cut short by the report of a Wookiee Bowcaster.  The pirate crumpled to the deck.  Evenson looked at the Wookiee, the Wookie looked back.  G could swear he saw a wry smile cross his Lieutenant’s face for the briefest of moments.

“All right, everyone. Out of your fighters, lets get our bearings and go.”

  Atrasin slid down from his fighter and ran over to Lams’.  She hit the floor as he arrived.  He immediately noticed that she was cradling her right arm. 

  “Are you OK?” he asked. 

  “Yeah, it’s just a flesh wound.  I feel kinda stupid.  Sorry for freaking out.”  She said as she toed the deck plates sheepishly.

  “Don’t sweat it. It happens to all of us. Hell, if I ever get shot I’ll probably cry like a baby.” he said in a reassuring tone.  “Let’s get going.”

They ran over to Max’s ship as he was pulling out another Blaster rifle. 

  “OK, here’s the situation, Flight’s 1 and 3 are going to go get the Commodore, we are staying put to make sure the back door remains open.” stated Max.  “Lams, I want you and…what the hell is your name?” he asked with a confused look on his face. 

  “Atrasin, G’shlecc Atrasin” he replied.

  “OK, you and Atrasin here to set up some of those cargo pods as cover and get a good bead on that entrance.  I’m gonna set up over here and establish a crossfire. Got it?” he barked

  Lams nodded.  G nodded as well and they headed to their position.  G noticed the wince of pain that crossed Lams’ face as she strode across the deck.  He reached into one of his flight suit pockets and pulled out a couple of doses of Fir-Queline, to speed healing, and Helosine for pain.  He handed them to her. She initially declined, but a spike of pain made her reconsider.  The Helosine worked fast, and she was able to move her arm in a somewhat normal fashion.  The pods were set up, and the ammo laid out for ease of reload.  The rest of the Squad headed out.  Max looked over and gave a thumbs up.  G returned it and they began to wait. 

  Lams looked over at him and said, “Thanks for sticking on my wing.” The gratitude and fear mixed easily on her face.

  “Hey, that’s what wingmen do.” He replied. He smiled at her, turned his attention back to the entrance, and hoped aginst hope that this would be as exciting as it got all day.

Mel Krasznius walked as his knees were bent. He held his blaster near his face, and lined up with his eyes.

Where are those kriffing pirates? Mel asked himself in his mind as he turned the corner. Watch out! yelled Rogue. A few feet away, a bright light bursted on the metal wall. Fecks! Mel cursed as he returned at the pirate, who revealed himself after jumping from the recoil of the blaster. Rogue returned fire with his weapon, but both Mel and him failed in getting a shot on the running pirate.

They lost sight of him as he retreated into a small corridor leading from the bridge.

Mel whispered, I'm starting to get annoyed by this fodder. The two men inched towards the entrance, but remained cautious in each step. However, they stopped a few feet away. Wait a minute. Where's Rusty? Mel asked, not taking his view away from the corridor entrance. Rogue shrugged and said We should go back for him. However, as if it was a sign for him to show up, Rusty's roar was heard throughout the room. Mel laughed. What's so funny? Rogue questioned. That roar came from the corridor that pirate just ran into. It looks like our friend got there before us.

How did a wookiee manage to be so quiet and get over there? Rogue asked curiously. Don't underestimate a wookiee, my friend. I've seen plenty a skilled one. The men walked towards the corridor. As sure as the death of Palpatine, there was Rusty, standing over the ripped remnants of what used to be a pirate. Rusty ignored the gore and walked towards the two VEN members with what appeared to be a grin. Well, I'm guessing there isn't too many of these left. Rogue remarked. Let's hope not, Mel said, These guys aren't deserving of the cheap shots they've made.

Jegora passed of the rifle to Nell. Hoisting his flame carbine he checked all the dials and gauges. Everything seemed to be working properly. His fuel tanks still held full pressure, his nozzles were unclogged, and all the lights were green. That had to be good.

Trying not to think to hard about what his weapon would do to the pirates, Jegora advanced forward behind Rogue and Trevor. Both had blaster rifles to their shoulders, sweeping the halls for any threats. They had been moving forward steadily for last five minutes or so when they suddenly reached an intersection.

Without waiting for a command the squad pulled up short. No one wanted to walk into a cross fire. Jeg motioned to Trevor. Trevor looked at him questioningly, but Jegora just pulled out his knife. Standing up against the wall he slowly stuck is knife out past the corner. He then angled the knife until he could see the hall around the corner reflected in the steel of the knife. There was nothing there. On the other side of the hall Rogue was doing the same to the other corner. When he waved the all-clear, the squad let out a collective breath.

Trevor nodded to both Jegora and Rogue. “Neat trick. Where did you guys learn that?”

Rogue responded first. “You pick up a lot of useful skills when you’ve been around the galaxy a few times.”

Jeg’s answer was less mysterious. “I watched a holo-film once,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion, and not even a hint of a smile on his face.

Shaking his head, Trevor continued on. Rogue grinned at Jeg, and then moved back down the hall. The two flights continued on down the hall. Jeg took up a position near the front of the group where he was able to cover the squads advance with the flame rifle. Crimson was doing much the same in the rear, covering the groups six with the other flamer. Jeg almost felt sorry for any pirates that tried to sneak up on them, or that the Nazgul pilots happened to run across. Almost. Then he remembered that they would shoot him, and he didn’t feel so bad.

The squad was moving steadily down the halls when they ran into the pirates. The pirates pulled out of an intersection just ahead of the Nazgul pilots. They never had a chance.

In an instant Rogue and Trevor had their rifles up and were firing. Two of the pirates fell right away. By that time, Jegora had muscled his way through Nell and Iron. He now had a clear shot with the flame carbine. Flipping the safety switch and depressing the heavy trigger, Jegora let the devastating weapon unload.

At first only a gel-like substance shot from the flamer. After a quick second, it ignited. The pirates were covered in the gel, and soon they were all ablaze. Jegora kept the flamer working though, even through the screams. Every two-three seconds he would fire off an eight-ten second burst. After about thirty seconds, the pirates had stopped screaming. The hall was blackened and charred, and all that was left of the pirates were bone fragments and dust.

“Well,” Jegora said, his voice ice. “Guess we know the flamer was a good idea.”

Nell was white in the face, Iron was looking a tad gray, Rusty looked angry, Rogue was calm, Trevor looked thoughtful, Crimson was staring at the weapon he was carrying in disbelief, and Mel simply looked surprised.

Inside, Jegora thought that he might have all these emotions running around in his head, but he suppressed them. It had had to be done, and so he had done it. There was nothing he could do about it. He refused to let himself ponder and brood over the deaths of his enemies, men who had attacked the Vast Empire, and indirectly his home.

No, he was not sorry.

The squadron continued on reluctantly. Rogue stepped calmly over the remains, as did Trevor. Jegora grimaced slightly as he picked his way through the remains, but he quickly wiped it off his face. The rest of the squadron looked a bit queasy, except for Rusty, who just looked angry. Jegora wasn’t sure, but it seemed the Wookie was always angry.

After a few more minutes of slow progress, Trevor halted the group and consulted over a map with Rogue. Jegora waited patiently, and once again checked his weapon. He had two fuel tanks, and one was at 90%. All the lights were still green. The weapon had functioned perfectly, and was still ready to go.

Idly Jegora touched his DC-15. Eventually he would have to use that; he couldn’t fire the flame rifle or the Flechette while his squadron mates were in the way. Both were meant for clearing hallways, and clear hallways they would. Such weapons did not distinguish between friend and foe.

After a moment’s deliberation, Rogue pointed up ahead to another intersection. Jegora knew they had to be getting close to the lifts they would have to take up to the next deck. And he knew that with taking the lift came increased danger. They were helpless in the lift, and they had no idea what was waiting for them at the top.

Jegora shook his head, clearing his thoughts. What would come would come. There was nothing he could about it.

OOC:

900 words, on the spot.

G continued to set up the hanger defenses. He grabbed more of the cargo pods, and arranged them in a semi-circle. Max was hard at work on a mirrored set of works on the opposite side of the bay. Lams sat with her knees to her chin. The Helosine had kicked in and she was no longer in obvious pain. The look on her face showed an inner turmoil. He began to wonder if that turmoil would get him or anyone else killed. He decided to leave her be for a while and concentrate on the task at hand. The cargo pods were not overly large or of a heavy-duty nature.
          Hope it’s enough to stop a blaster bolt.
  Max had set up about 8-10 on his side and was actively laying out his ordinance. From the look of things he had a couple of Blasters, a Flechette, and two Rifles. G was similarly armed, and all he saw on Lams was her sidearm. He had set up about 15 pods reaching around to within 10 feet of Max. This would afford them good cover, and the ability to move to better angles without exposing themselves to fire. The gap would all