G slid under the hot, needle-like jets of the refresher shower.  The semi-scalding water stabbed into his scalp and down his back. The sensations emanating from the contact did little to loosen his tired, taut muscles.  He doubted severely that 1000 showers could loosen him up.

  Less than 24 hours before he was sitting in a Reserves Barracks at the Academy, now he was a blooded combat veteran with a half dozen kills and a dead CO.  Not, a good day.

  This is not why I joined the Navy.

  He understood the combat.  There were bad people in the galaxy.  People who didn’t understand the concepts of order, and law.  Teaching them the meaning of theses sacred concepts was WHY he joined the Navy: not to get his SC killed on his first mission.  Two killed out of the eleven that went in.  18% casualty rate.  Well within accepted Imperial doctrines, but too damn many to him.  G’shlecc stepped from the shower, and toweled off.  He shaved and threw on a fresh uniform.  He looked Human; he wondered how long it would be before he felt that way again.

  Lams was not in the bunker.  She had quickly dumped her gear and raced out.  She didn’t have a good mission either.  Hers, however, was a more personal thing.  G had watched her cycle from confident pilot, to barely coherent basket case, to semi-psychotic warrior and around again all within the space of a few hours.  He hoped she was getting some help. That kind of meltdown could cost people their lives, hell; it could cost him HIS life.

  He went about the process of unpacking and cleaning his gear.  He had his A280, his D-18 and his DL-44 laid out on the bunk.  The 18 was fine, hadn’t fired it once.  The 44 could stand a quick polish but was otherwise ok.  The rifle needed a serious cleaning.  Carbon residue had built up on the muzzle from all the firing it had done.  He spent the next 45 minutes stripping, cleaning and reassembling the powerful rifle till it shined like new.  He pulled out his Rodian knife and threw it on the bed.  Looked pretty, but not entirely useful, and it had chaffed his leg the whole time.  He vowed to leave it behind next mission.  The last item he unpacked was his vibroblade.  The hilt still had pirate blood on it.  He thought for a moment about leaving it there as a memento of his first hand to hand kill, but then thought better.  A clean knife is a deadly knife.  The memory would be enough for him.

  After he repacked his gear he sat for a moment to collect his thoughts.

  Now what

  He thought about grabbing some chow, but that would be too social.  He thought about doing a post-flight check of the ‘Equus’, but the techs would be doing that now.  He sat and ran through several ideas before his data pad interrupted his thoughts.  Thumbing the message box, he saw a note from Rogue.  “Post-mission meeting, Room 5492-SD, Deck 4, 5 minutes”.

Great

  He headed for the meeting; passing Stormies and other naval personnel as he made his way through the busy ship.  He reached the room in no time, and was greeted by his fellow Nazguls.  Jeg, Rusty, Max, Mel, and Nell were already there.  Crimson was in Sick Bay, and Lams was...somewhere.  he grabbed a seat by Max as Rogue entered the room.

  Walking resolutely to the front of the room Rogue addressed them, “If any of you didn't know already, we lost Iron and Trevor. Trevor went back to make sure the charges would go off as planned. I don't know if anyone saw anything of his Interceptor, but no survival beacon or beacon on any kind has been located or heard from.”

  G remembered seeing a faint glimpse of Trev’s TIE moments before the corvette went up, but decided that bringing it up did no one any good.  The room remained silent for several more heartbeats as each pilot processed the information.  Some of them took it hard.  Atrasin could see the look of pain and loss forming in Jeg’s eyes.  Trevor was his wingman.  It was obvious he meant more than that to the young man.

  G’shlecc watched as the man collected himself and asked, “Is there going to be any sort of rescue mission?”

  “According to the Commodore, there will not be. Other than that, all I know is we are in hyperspace heading to meet up with the Atrus. Once there I'm sure there will be enough debriefings to annoy us all.” Rogue intoned with only the slightest quaver of emotion eking through.

  The room was again silent.  This time the look in the pilot’s eyes was not one of loss, but one of betrayal.

  How could they not even attempt a rescue?

  Rouge interrupted their thoughts again, “I would like to make one suggestion through.  I think we should honor Trevor's memory. Therefore, I will be buying the first round, on the condition, that we all toast it to his memory.”

  G nodded.  A drink sounded pretty good right now.

OOC:

863 words. Nazzies, feel free to post here til we start the new story. This can be a great decompression area.  New guys, if you were not on the last mission, hold off posting here. You'll get your chance soon.

Jegora looked up from his table when his datapad went off. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Iron and Trevor kept haunting him. Every time he lost focus he could see his commanders face. Every time he blinked, he saw Iron staring at him accusingly.

On some level Jegora knew that such thoughts were the norm after suffering loss. But that level of thought was buried underneath mountains of grief and confusion. He understood that Iron had died because of a freak equipment malfunction, and that Trevor’s death was in no way his fault, but he couldn’t get the accusing thoughts out of his head.

He kept thinking that if he had just kept the flame carbine, Iron would still be alive. It never occurred to Jeg that then he himself would be dead. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if maybe he had set the charges wrong, if Trevor had had to go back because of some error he had made. He knew it was foolish. None of the charges went off, meaning it had nothing to do with Jeg, but he couldn’t get the wicked thoughts out of his head.

Jegora hadn’t slept at all in the last 36 hours. He was tired, exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. The nightmares that he knew would haunt him if he closed his eyes kept him awake through the ‘early’ hours of the next morning.

When Jeg’s datapad showed 0600 Galactic Standard Time, Jegora decided that enough people would be up that he wouldn’t look out of place. Putting on running shorts and a VEN tee-shirt, he went for a run. It was still early, so few people were up and about, which was how Jegora preferred it. He turned right out of his room, towards the front of the ship. He jogged swiftly through the observation deck, then through a mess hall, through an empty recreation hall, and back to the hangars near the rear of the ship. He had run an almost complete circle of the ship, and had worked up a good sweat in the process.

When he reached the hangar he stopped running and switched to a walk in order to ‘warm down’ his body after the long run. He was walking through the hangar, planning on inspecting his TIE, when he heard a female voice come from behind him.

“Hey killer, whatcha doin’?” the high-pitched voice asked.

Jegora immediately tensed, but kept his face empty of any emotion. Inside he was welling with anger. He remembered this voice.

“Can I help you, Crewman?” he said coldly as he turned and came face to face with Nell.

The woman sniffed, obviously displeased at the lack of a reaction to her provocations. She tried a different route. “So, I suppose you’re my new FL with Trevor gone,” she said casually, messing around with her datapad as she spoke. “He never was to smart. Running back into a ship filled with bombs? Please.”

Jegora just managed to keep his rage under control. A slight quiver in his shoulders was the only sign of his anger, apart from his eyes. His face was empty, but his eyes were cold and gray. Nell looked up from her datapad, met his eye, and froze.

The young woman noticed his eyes, but shook it off as her imagination. She was mad herself, distraught with the death of her wingman. She blamed Jegora for his death. She could care less about Trevor, but Iron was her closest friend in the Navy. They had gone through basic together, had been assigned to Nazgul together, and now he was gone. She needed someone to blame, and Jeg was the most convenient person around.

They stared at each other, measuring each other up. Jegora didn’t want a fight with her, but even through the fog of his grief he realized that she was too angry and scared to be settled down. Suddenly the grim smile on her face turned into a snarl.

“You cold, unfeeling bastard!” she shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby techs. She didn’t seem to mind. “You killed Iron, your wingman is dead, and you don’t even care. Look at you. Out for a run? You disgust me!”

Jegora didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He kept his cold, hard eyes locked on hers. Inside he was distraught. He could think of nothing to say. She was as grief-stricken as he. It was only fair that she would be upset with him, he reasoned. After all, he had killed Iron.

NO!, he thought to himself. I didn’t kill Iron! I didn’t kill Trevor! Fate, chance, killed them both. There deaths aren’t my fault!

Nell laughed. “If that’s what you want to believe,” she sneered. Jegora started. He hadn’t realized that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

Spinning on a dime, Jegora turned and started to walk away. He had to get back to his room, back to the isolation that his cabin provided. He had taken several steps when he heard a screech from behind him. He then felt something his back with tremendous force, almost knocking him over.

Jegora didn’t have to wait long to find out what had hit him. The sharp nails digging into his back and the repeated cries of “Bastard!” told him that Nell had launched herself at him. Suddenly Jegora’s rage welled up. He snapped.

Reaching around, he pulled Nell off his back and grabbed her by the shoulders, standing her up in front of him. Now she was silent, the look of hate that had been on her face earlier replaced by a look of fear.

Jegora had no idea, but his gray/blue eyes had suddenly turned as hard and cold as steel. He said nothing, simply stared into her fearful eyes for a moment, and then tossed her aside. Out of the corner off his eye he saw a tech move to restrain her, or perhaps console her. He couldn’t tell. He didn’t wait around to find out. He had to get back to his cabin. He broke into a jog, then a sprint. Soon he found himself in the hall designated to Nazgul squadron. The only problem was he wasn’t alone. The wookie, Rusty, was holding a man by the collar of his shirt and roaring.

Jegora didn’t know what was going on but he was still running on adrenaline from earlier. He couldn’t stop himself. “Rusty, put him down!” he commanded.

The wookie turned his head slowly, looking at Jegora with black eyes. Jegora knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The wookie obviously wasn’t sober, and from what Jegora knew of the large creature he was extremely violent as it was. Jegora automatically reached to his side, groping for his blaster. It wasn’t there. Jegora’s rage was replaced with fear as the wookie dropped the man and moved towards Jegora.

Jegora had no doubt that Rusty would have attacked him if not for Rogue opening his door and stepping into the hallway at that very moment.

“What is going on here?” The executive officer asked quietly. He had a blaster pistol in one hand.

Jegora spoke slowly, his voice devoid of emotion. He control was very thin, though. Inside he was shaking with fear. “I happened upon Rusty threatening this man here,” he said. Rusty growled, and Jeg took an involuntary step backwards.

Rogue nodded and turned to Rusty. “Sleep, now,” he said simply. The wookie only glanced at Rogue, then nodded and retreated to his quarters. Jegora sighed in relief. Rogue noticed and spoke.

“Jegora, join me for a minute. We need to have a talk,” the older man said.

Jegora put on his best face. “If it is about Rusty, I don’t know what came over me,” he said honestly.

Rogue shook his head. “I do, and I need you to explain what happened in the hangar just now,” he said, retreating back into his rooms.

Jegora winced. There was nothing for it. Steeling himself for what was most likely going to be an ass-chewing, Jegora followed Rogue back into his cabin.

OOC:

1360 Words. For the moment, this is a planned storyline between Rusty and myself, and Rogue

Leaving the Mess Hall, Driver proceeded down the corridor to his bunk.  The hall was filled with activity.  Techs going over schematics as they walked, pilots arriving and departing for patrols, Stormies doing whatever Stormies do on a Naval Vessel.  The walk helped clear his head.  The thought of losing a SC so early in his career was a little daunting.
 
  He arrived at his bunk door and entered.  Lamel was still out.  He had the bunker to himself.  He slid out of his duty uniform and slid into bed. Sleep claimed him within minutes.

**Eight Hours Later**

  G’shlecc was roused out of his slumber by the persistant chirping of his comm.  He groggily gropped for the device in the darkened room.  Upon finding it he thumbed the ‘Accept’ pad.  It was his brother, Bedav.

  “Hey.” He answered, fighting off a yawn.

  “Hey  yourself, is this what my tax credits go to, rack time for cocky flyboys?” he teased.

  G and Bedav had always had a close, fun relationship.  While growing up. they often had only themselves to play with.  This, coupled with the trauma of their parents split and placement in various boarding schools, created a tight bond between the brothers. 

  “Sorry, just got back from a mission, and I’m trying to catch up on my sleep.  How’ve you been?” he inquired.

  “Good, just wanted to see how my big brother was doing in his mid-life crisis.”he quipped, the playful tone oozing through every word.

  “Just fine and dandy thank you, in fact, I’ve been promoted to Grand Moff, and I signed your Death Warrant right before I went to sleep.  I’ surprised the Stormies haven’t come for you yet.” G joked.

  “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just have to join up with the Rebel’s and ‘Fight for Freedom’.” He needleed.  Bedav could always find G’s weak point, and exploit it unmercifully.

  “OK, but if you make me shoot you down, you’re telling dad.” G retorted.  He didn’t always have the last word, but he usually had the best.

  Bedav fired back,“Fine, be that way, no birthday present for you this year.  You don’t wanna be hauled in by Imperial Intellegence, and questioned about receiving aid and comfort from the enemy.”

  “No, no I don’t.  Did you call for a reason, or just to bust my chops?” G’shlecc asked rubbing his head as he sat up in bed.

  “I have a reason. Yulia commed me to see if you were OK.  It seems you missed your regular call to her, and she was worried.”he said,”I told her I didn’t know what was up, but not to worry, and you’d call her soon.  It’s soon.”

  “Damn, I completely forgot. Thanks for the call, I’ll buzz her up right away. “

  He threw himself out of the bunk, and into his duty pants. Still talking as he headed to the refresher,”I’ll let you go, now. “

  “No problem, you take care, and try not to get killed.  I love you.” He stated

  “I love you too, give my best to Da.” G killed the line and put down the comm.

He ran some hot water in the ‘fresher sink and washed his face.  The warm suds were enough to wake him fully.  He toweled himself, grabbed the comm, and dialed Yulia.

  Yulia Acola, was the best damn woman he’d ever met in his 39 years in this galaxy.  She was a smart, sassy brunette who could speak 5 languages, design a mean stardrive, drink like a Stormie on leave, and shag like a Lepi.  They’d met six years back while working at the Yards.  Atrasin was the project manger on the new Star Destroyer Engines being built after Yavin.  She was a hotshot desinger fresh out of University.  Within weeks of meeting, they were a couple.  Since then they’d been inserperable.  She was his other half, and sometimes knew him better than he knew himself.  She had immediately understood his need to join the Navy. While, she did not like the idea of his life being on the line every day, she did not stand in his way when he left.  He didn’t know if he loved her more then or now, that he’d been separated for these last long months.

  He started to input her comm number when Lams stepped in the bunker.  She looked a little worn, but more steady than when she left the landing bay.

  “Hey, Rogue wants us to meet for a debriefing in 5 min.” she said.

  Driver killed the comm before he made the connection.  She’d have to wait a little longer for him, he hoped she’d wait forever if necessary.  Lams was on her way out the bunker door.  He followed.  Lamel  walked with a quick purpose. They didn’t talk.  Reaching the briefing room he saw Rogue seated at the front with Line Captain Shazam.  He hadn’t seen the Line Captain since his graduation from the Academy two months back.  He felt a sense of dread wash over him.

  Leaning in to Lams he said,”I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  She whispered back,”Me too.”

  Mel was the last to arrive, and when he took his seat Rogue stepped to the podium and spoke.

“Our first order of business is to congratulate you on a job well done.” He continued on for several more minutes.  Rogue outlined the mission and showed some gun camera footage.  The image of the exploding corvette filled the screen.  Every eye in the room searched for Trevor’s TIE.  G knew he made it out of the hangar, and beyond that nothing.  Rogue handed the debrief off to Shazam, who started to speak of Trev.  The emotion of the moment got to him and he stepped away to collect himself.  He returned and was about to speak when he was interupted. 

  “I don’t see what everyone is getting so worked up about.”

  Shazam and Rogue’ s eyes turned to platters.  G turned to see what had brought the men to silence only to be greeted by the sight of a very much alive Lt. Trevor Evenson standing in the doorway.  The next few minutes were lost to questions and tales of narrow escapes and harrowing rescues.

  The happy reunion was interrupted by Shazam calling for attention and stating, “I hate to throw you guys right back into the loop again, so, for your pleasure we’re going to give you something a bit nicer. Report tomorrow to Training room B for your new assignment. You won’t even need to leave the Atrus.”

  En masse Nazgul moved to embrace their resurrected leader, only to have him whisked away by Shazam.  They quickly left the room, and the stunned pilots.  Not knowing what to do, G’shlecc stood there with the rest of his squadron mates slightly dumbfounded. 

  Rogue, now beaming like a kid in a candy store, gleefully prodded them, “C’mon you lazy bums, haven’t you ever seen a man come back from the dead before?  Move it, you’ve got your orders.”

  The assembled pilots snapped out of their dreamworld  at the sound of his voice, and moved to comply.

  Maybe, this ain’t such a bad day after all.

OOC:

1198 words, Rusty and Jeg you are welcome to finish up however you feel

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