=====Just after Driver leaves=====

Stewart-Power saw them leave. He didn't exactly know how to react. Usually in one his few past bar-fights he was just dragged to the nearest swamp and thrown in (The locals didn't now much about Mon Cal's). Of course it was convenient that his "cottage" (more like a hut) was usually in the middle of said swamp.

But instead, here he was in briefing room of an Imperial Flagship after getting a verbal beating from an Imperial Officer, after getting a physical beating from Imperial Crewmen.
And I thought I was going to be the worst off, physically. He said to himself.
He had seen Van on the ground, and although he couldn't see much of it, at least he could still move on his own.

He examined himself again, after all the rest of Nazgul were milling around, doing whatever they could to stall from returning to their quarters. There were even some pilots who congratulated each other on a particularly tough knock-out, but for most part the pilots simply looked at their feet. Thel had many bruises, but luckily no cuts, and only a little bleeding on his equivalent of a chin.
Last time I headbutt somebody that hard, who am I kidding, I ought to practice that.

Thel desperately wanted to make a joke in order cheer everyone up, but nothing at least partially witty came to mind. Darian beat Thel to it. He wasn't exactly sure what Darian said, but it evoked a few smirks on the other side of the room.

As if cued, Nazgul started filtering out of the room. Thel headed straight to his quarters. He thought for a moment about striking up a conversation with Arturo, but decided against it.
Not unless I see him on the way there, and recognize him.

He got to his room and immediately sat down. His blaster carbine lay dissembled on his bed, as it usually was, but other then that his room was fairly clean, except the work shelf by his bed. A pile of half sorted tools lay on one side, and a pile of spare parts on the other side. In the middle were the remains of some half forgotten project. Thel dissembled it, and put the spare parts back into the pile.

He then proceeded to put on his flight gear, and went to the hanger. Thel got into his TIE and did what he liked to call, the Pre-Pre-Flight check. Some days, depending on the people in the hanger, it annoyed the heck out the techs. This, fortunately, was not one of those days.
Aw, I almost miss them, but not really.

Thel dropped out of his TIE, and exited the hanger. He started head towards the Cantina, but thought that was probably a bad idea, considering what he just went through.
Instead, he headed to where was sure Arturo's quarters were.

He went up to were his quarters should be and knocked. He waited a few seconds, but didn't hear anything.
Either he's out, or this just isn't occupied.
He looked around but didn't see anyone.
Guess I'll just go back to my quarters then.

Thel had just positioned the the harness he had made for his carbine on his flight suit, when realized he had forgotten his helmet in the hanger. He started towards the hanger, all other thoughts momentarilly forgotten.

OOC:

Word Count: 565 Words. Just my opinion of what happened afterwords (if anyone else wants to take credit for the joke that's fine with me, just remind me and I'll change it).

Arturo had literally just walked in the door to his quarters when the two Security goons that had shuttled him around earlier entered, and ordered him to come with them once again.

“Sir, please come with us. You’re needed again in the holding room, to be present with the rest of your unit. Do not resist.” Arturo sighed. It’s not like I really have any sort of say in the matter, now do I? I bet that idiot Flagg waited until he knew I’d just get back here before sending the hounds for me again. This is really getting old…

“Alright, let’s go then.” With another resigned sigh, Arturo turned around and was marched right back to the holding room, whence he came.

--------------------

Ensign Atrasin, or “Driver”, as Arturo had been strongly advised to call him, was probably not in a good mood before he caught wind of Nazgul’s recent debauchery in the bar. Needless to say, upon learning that his entire squadron was in the brig for a bar fight, his mood didn’t appear to have improved much at all. In fact, most likely it only got worse, based on the venom and sheer calm creepiness that Driver’s voice possessed as it penetrated into the skulls of the Nazgul pilots, whether they wanted it to or not.

Arturo had been told by some of the others by whispered words before the confrontation began that if Driver dressed you down in public then it was a really, really bad thing. Arturo wondered how many of those incidents had involved Driver taking on  his whole outfit before…

As the grilling intensified, Arturo’s attention began to shift away from the eerily calm Ensign to the two men standing quietly behind him, as if waiting for Driver to finish so that they could move on to bigger and better things. They calmly gazed out over the group of Nazgul pilots, making eye contact here and there, at least with those few who weren’t staring at the deck, a spot on the wall, or off into space. The one on the right, the man who had the biggest rank bar and the most medals and decorations, turned his silent gaze towards Arturo, and held it there for a few moments. Arturo returned the stare, and gave a very slight nod, as if to say “Hello, and I wish we were elsewhere.” They held eye contact for another second, then the mystery man looked away, towards the direction of Hunter and Drac, who had just entered the holding room from the side, interrupting Driver in mid-sentence.

That guy seems friendly enough, but there was something… different about those eyes of his…

Driver, with a very noticeable scowl on his face, turned to the two Nazgul officers and asked, in a disturbingly quiet tone, “Would you mind telling me just what happened? I've already . . . 'chatted' with the rest of them, but I want to hear it from my two Senior men.”

Arturo took note as Hunter approached Driver, held his gaze for a brief moment, contending with his stare that he was unafraid, then lowered his head and conversed quietly with Driver for a moment. Drac stepped forward after several seconds, and Driver mulled something over before giving them both a slight nod towards the doorway, and following them out. As Driver’s two accomplices, whose identities remained a mystery to everyone present, followed as well, the one who had been to the right of Driver turned his head back towards Arturo, and gave him one last look, before he turned and strode out of the holding room. Arturo wasn’t sure what to make of the man or his behavior, but he dismissed both of the two unknowns as Security brass who just wanted to get their own personal pleasure out of seeing a bunch of miscreants chewed out by their commanding officer, as well as to salve their department’s wounded pride over the affair.

That’s it, nothing to see here. Move on, time to go. Now what will happen? Will the NCC show up and skewer us as well? And I still don’t know why I’m even in here, again! I had nothing to do with any of the questionable conduct and decisions of my squadronmates…

And with that thought, Arturo did know why he was here, and he understood, as well. He was now part of a unit, and what that unit did reflected upon every one of its members, whether they went with it or not. That didn’t mean he liked the concept, however. At least the group-punishment part of it, anyhow.

To his pleasant surprise, Nazgul was finally dismissed, hopefully for good, from the holding room. Arturo wouldn’t hold his breath, however; this lot was likely going to end up here more than once in the future. Slasher and Dairy has landed themselves in the brig for a month, and Arturo was in no hurry to see himself or any of his new comrades follow suit any time soon. He shook his head one last time, still terribly annoyed and confused over the events that had transpired since his graduation from the Academy. A horrible flight aboard a horrible shuttle with a horrible pilot, a run-in with Hunter right off the bat, being sent to Security twice, being stared at by a sort-of creepy officer, and of course, being thoroughly reamed by a slightly psychotic squadron commander he had yet to formally meet.

Whenever this mission happens, it may just be a breeze compared to simply living here for a day… but probably not. Whatever happens, I’ve got plenty to think about between now and when we fly outta the hangar...

Arturo followed his now very quiet squadronmates as they shuffled out the door of the holding room, dispersing in different directions towards wherever their quarters were. He, too, turned down the hallway and went, not to his quarters, but to (believe it or not) the bar. The very same one that Nazgul had trashed only a short while earlier. The bartender, who apparently still had fried nerves from the affair, cried out in anguish as he saw the uniform of a Nazgul pilot sit down at the bar and order another Commenorian brandy. He composed himself after sobbing and begging him to not harm his establishment any further for a few minutes, and eventually served the drink after realizing that Arturo apparently wasn’t a harbinger of doom and destruction for his bar after all. Arturo merely smiled, and enjoyed his drink.

OOC:

Word Count: 1110
Enjoy; I hope my limited knowledge of Driver is thusfar correct...

OOC:

edited for continuity - Driver

Drac stifled a sigh as he sat beside Hunter in the interrogation room. The Captain, seated across from the two Nazzies, seemed to be getting into his “bad cop” mood quite efficiently, and Drac saw little point in doing anything to egg him on at this point. He knew that, while all the Nazzies had done a lot of damage, he’d done a lot more than most of them. With any luck he’d be able to get Hunter out of this, but he didn’t hold out any such hopes for himself. His mind, regardless of his attempts to turn his thoughts away, insisted on playing and replaying a scene he’d prefer to forget. A dark room inhabited by four dark figures and one chained in a beam of light flashed before his mind’s eye. His memory replayed the ripping of cloth and flesh, the slow drip-drip of blood running off the end of the vibroblade in his hand. The final image, the most bleak of them all, was of a argent blade springing into existence in the darkness, its snap-hiss filling the room as it drove up through Catachan’s head and killed him instantly. The corpse hung, limp, in its chains as Nazgul’s officers left the room and Drac turned back to look one last time…and saw his own body where Catachan’s had hung. Shuddering ever so slightly, the Chief Petty Officer finally forced his mind to the present. There was no knowing whether that fate awaited him, so there was no point in scaring himself.

An elbow from Hunter pointed out that the Captain wanted them to give an accounting of themselves. Drac frowned and launched into the story once again, making sure to give every detail as he remembered it.  When he finished the Captain scoffed at the story and insisted that they’d been in the wrong. When Hunter stood up to the man’s accusation’s Drac saw his chance, “Sir, I claim all responsibility for my actions. Like he said, there was just no avoiding a fight. I didn't start the fight though. I kept my temper down and remained calm despite that pilot verbally assaulting me. It was all I could do, sir.” Hopefully that would be the ejection handle that got Hunter out of this.

The Captain rubbed his forehead, still looking angry, and then said, “Ok. You two are free to go back to the holding chamber.” What? That’s not normal, not normal at all. A deeper look at the man’s expression revealed considerable frustration. Could it be that he already had orders to release us and was trying to fish for anything incriminating so he could nail us to the wall? I know we’ve got the reputation of being a bunch of show-offs and scofflaws, but that’s a bit excessive.

Drac heard Ensign Atrasin long before he saw him. The pair entered the holding room as Driver stopped speaking and turned to face them. Two men flanked him, and the Mon Cal couldn’t help but blink at the sight of them. One was a 2nd Lieutenant, and obviously a veteran. He might even be described as a hardcase. The other seemed amused and affable, but the Commodore’s rank insignia and the plethora of ribbons and medals on his chest indicated he could be deadly serious. From the looks of these two, one might guess that they’re Nazzies…but that couldn’t be, could it?

Returning his attention to Atrasin, he heard his squadron commander addressing Hunter, “You mind telling me just what happened? I've already . . . talked to the rest of them, but I want to hear from you two.”

Jumping in before Hunter could form a reply, Drac said, “Hunter wasn't involved in the fight sir. All he did was end it, without using more force than he needed to I might add. If you want to blame somebody, look no further.”

The pair stared at each other for a few long moments, and the Chief Petty Officer suddenly thought he caught a slight gleam of amusement in Driver’s eyes. If it was there, though, it in no way overrode the anger and irritation lining the Ensign’s face. After a moment Driver’s face smoothed somewhat and he nodded, and then turned and left the room. Glancing over to Hunter, Drac saw the Executive Officer looking back at him. Something didn’t quite add up here. Even a mission didn’t excuse such odd behavior. They both, or at least Drac, should be staring a long stay in the brig in the face or even demotion. Instead they were free to go and Driver, not known for his kindliness, had neglected to pounce on Drac after he’d jumped under the proverbial hoverbus. Yes, something decidedly strange was going on here.

The squadron, sans Slasher and Dairy, followed Driver out of the holding room. Hunter and Drac were near the front, silently following the still-silent officers who flanked the Ensign as he moved through the corridors. They arrived, relatively quickly, at the squadron’s briefing room. Everyone assembled within and Driver got up at the front to begin the briefing.

The first thing on the agenda was the two officers, now seated quietly at the front. Atrasin waved for them to stand up, then looked at the Nazzies, “These two will be joining us on this mission. Both are former Nazgul pilots, and we could all stand to learn a few things from them. The first is 2nd Lieutenant Willtconq. Hunter, he will be flying in Second Flight as Nazgul Eight.” Drac could barely hold in a laugh in as he glanced over at Hunter and saw the other Flight Leader staring, gape-mouthed, at the Squadron Commander. Driver continued, “The second is Commodore Shazam, who will be filling the position of Nazgul Twelve in Third Flight.” Drac stopped laughing. He stopped breathing. He even stopped thinking for a moment as he stared, dumbfounded, at the Commodore sitting there so silently. Then his mind re-engaged, This has to be some sort of cruel joke, payback for the bar fight…something. Driver can’t seriously mean to put me in charge of a Commodore, can he? Looking at the Ensign’s face, calmly turned up to regard the two Flight Leaders, Drac got his answer. Of course he can, he’s Driver. Now I know why they let us out of the brig: they knew he had something worse in store for us. Tearing his gaze from the front of the room, the Mon Calamari looked at Hunter once more. The other pilot was looking back, his expression a curious mix of shock, amusement, and pity.

The briefing continued, and Driver outlined their mission. They were to travel to the planet Sarek and keep guard while Shazam carried out negotiations. He stressed that they were all too likely to run into rebels or, worse, New Republic troops. And in atmosphere at that. This, Drac thought to himself afterward, making his way down to greet Shazam, is going to be a very interesting mission.

OOC:

Word Count: 1169

The smell of old sweat, leather and recycled air caressed G’s nostrils like an old lover.  The familiar scents of his fighter’s cockpit momentarily released him from the still seething anger and embarrassment at having to spring not one, not three, hells, not even half…but his entire squadron out of the hoosegow. 

Fully conveying the basic fact that no one - save for him - can make him or Nazgul look bad took a lot out of him.  His overwhelming desire to grab several of his men and spit them like a holiday shank had passed, but the event still gnawed at him. 

  Undisciplined little bastards

And whose fault was that: his.  He was the one responsible for setting the tone and tenor of discipline within the squadron.  Obviously he’d not done a good enough job.  Obviously, he’d need to reign in some of the more free-spirited flyboys. Obviously, he needed to do something…the only problem was that what exactly to do was not obvious.

He could take away their drinking privileges, but a pilot that couldn’t blow off the accumulated stress of a dogfight or melee was one that was a vapor cloud waiting to happen.  He could strap them into Sims for the rest of their foreseeable free time, but while they’d hone their skills – the returns would diminish and be ultimately futile.  He could flog them with the antique cat-o-nine he kept mounted over his desk, but eventually he’d get a cramp…and that would hurt.  Driver sighed.  He knew the only thing he could do was express his deep disappointment and hope that carried more weight than all the punishments in the Imperial Code of Justice.

He ran through his pre-launch check one last time and commed the squadron, “Nazgul 1 locked and loaded.  Sound off like you got a pair.”

He grinned to himself as he listened to them roll through their pre-flight sound off.  The bravado they projected masked the latent fear that every pilot carried into battle.  The fear that this would be the one.  The one where your ticket got punched and that was that.  G still had those thoughts from time to time.  Hells, he still wondered what possessed a middle-aged desk jockey to strap his ass onto a flying turbo-cannon and get chased by a bunch of children bent on turning him into hot space gas.

  Shoulda took a vacation instead

  “Nazgul launch and form up at Staging Point Aurek and prep for hyperspace,” he commed his men, and turning to the Shooter,”Nazgul One ready to launch.”

  “Nazgul One, this is Shooter, you are cleared to lau…hold position Nazgul One.” Came the reply.

  What the Hells

  The tin-toned voice of the Shooter echoed through the ball again, “Nazgul, stand down…repeat, stand down.  Return to docking clamps and await further instruction.”

  What the Frak

He nosed his TIE back to his usual clamp, secured the ship and shut her down.  Popping the hatch he was greeted by the Deck Chief.

  “Sorry G, this just came in from Denethor.” Apologized the TIE tinkerer.

Atrasin took the pad from the non-com and read quickly.  Nothing but a launch override and orders for himself, Hunter, Shazam and Willtconq to report ASAP to Den’s office.

  “This had better be damned important.”

He hit the deck in full stride.  The annoyance seeped from every pore.  Twice in the same day he was put into ‘Sunshine Mode’.  He popped an antacid as he walked.  The other pilots fell in behind him. No one bothered to remove their flight suits, the helmets stayed in the TIE’s. 

Nazgul blew past the NXO’s secretary and burst into the office, “What’s so damned important that you pulled me out of the middle of a launch?”

Denethor didn’t miss a beat, “Japheth has been…’retired’”

Momentarily not sure if the words that Den uttered were in Basic he stammered, “WH-what?”

  “High Admiral Japheth Capadocious has been ‘retired’.” He calmly repeated.

  Still at a loss, he was cut off by Shazam, “Who or what exactly ‘retired’ Japh, sir?”

  “It seems that an upstart ‘Committee’ of officers decided the Old Man wasn’t doing his job up to specs.  He’s been put on a rather comfortable shuttle bound for Zeltos, with Arturus to boot.”

Hunter spoke now, “That’s mutiny, sir. Who do they think they are?”

Denethor grimly smirked, “Well, WE think we’re looking out for the best interests of the Navy,” looking to the three most senior men standing before him, “correct gentlemen?”

The demeanor of G, Shaz and Will changed, as if the need for their righteous indignation had passed.  They turned to Hunter, and Driver said, “Correct, Hunter…the Old Man had not been on his game for a while, for that matter neither had Art…we had to do something, or lose the Navy.”

The swirl of thoughts in Hunter’s head produced a cacophony that was dissipated by the snap in G’s voice.

  “Hunter, look at me…have I EVER lied or deceived you in any way?”

Hunter paused a heartbeat, “No.”

  “Then believe me when I say that this is no lie.  We, and others, did what we KNEW was right.”

Hunter nodded, still shaken, but trusting the one man that had only ever told him the strait truth every time.

“So, where do we stand,” asked Will?

  “I stand at a crossroads.  I’m awaiting full approval from the VEHC to take command as the new NCC.  YOU, however, are to immediately take up your new positions.  Shaz, you’re my new NXO and I would normally keep you here, but I need your diplomacy on Sarek.  Atrasin, as much as a pain in MY ass as you are, I need your skills as a manager, and a bit of your luck…you’re the new Wing Commander…and you’re staying behind.”

  “Now wait a minute, those are MY men out there…”

  “Correction, those are the VAST EMPIRE’S men…and they are now under the command of Hunter, “snapped the newly minted NCC.

  “But…”

Denethor cut him off, “No buts, Mister.  You are staying.  Your TIE has been locked down, and the Deck Chief has been given explicit instructions to shoot you if you so much as try to take ANY craft out of that hangar.  Am I clear, Lt. Commander?”

  “Crystal, “he spat, paused as the revelation dawned on him, “Lt. Commander?”

  Denethor nodded, “I can’t just put a smart ass Ensign in charge of all my fighters, no can I?”

Hunter clapped his former SC on the shoulder and smiled, until the NCC’s gaze fixed on him, “Hunter, you are now officially the SC of Nazgul Squadron, and you will have to be fully briefed on the fly.  Commodore Shazam will do so en-route to Sarek.  You have been elevated to Warrant Officer, 2nd Class.  Do you have anyone in mind for your XO?”

  Atrasin turned and silently mouthed his choice, which was exactly the one that Hunter had thought of first as well, “Drac, sir.”

  Denethor thumbed the info into his pad, “Done and done, he’s now the Nazgul XO, and I’ve bumped him to CPO.

  Hunter nodded, “Thank you, sir.” G gave thumbs up and smiled.

Morrell snapped a quick salute, as Den nodded a reply,”…and you two…you stay the same.  Oh, cept you Will, you’re going to take the Flight 2 slot recently vacated by young Mr. Morrell.  Keep him from killing himself and the rest of Nazgul…they haven’t paid their bar tab yet.”

  “Wonderful, this morning I was an officer and a gentleman, now I’m a babysitter, “he threw up his arms in mock disgust.

Denethor walked around his desk and became very, very serious, “I don’t know how all of THIS will be received on Tadath.  It may get approved, it may not. All I know is this mission must go forward, and it must succeed.  Make sure it does, and come home.  If I’m here to greet you, you’ll know it worked out.  If you’re greeted by a squad of Stormies, then you’ll know it didn’t.  Go on, we’re through here.” he waved them out of the office, motioning for Driver to stay.  The three pilots heeled about and left, and for the first time in his life G felt a pang.

  “I know, I felt the same the first time Kaph flew off without me.  I’d like to say you’ll get used to it, but you never do,” Mused the Admiral, “Now, I want you out of that flight suit and into a proper uniform immediately.  We’ve got a lot of work to do, this thing is worse than we first suspected.  The Starfighter Corps is a shambles, recruiting is falling, the Capital Ship Service is almost non-existent, and the Academy is a wreck.  Seems the only thing running right is the Ferum Umbra.”

Driver nodded and turned to leave, stopped, and turned to Denethor, “Sir? Is the [b]Umbra[/b] your PERSONAL ship?”

Shaking his head no, Denethor said, “No, she comes with the office of Wing Commander.  She’s all yours now.”

“Really, hmm, “he saluted one final time and strode off to his quarters.

As he ambled down the corridor he pulled his personal comm off his belt, “Quartermaster, this is LCM Atrasin, would you please send a new duty uniform to my cabin, with the appropriate rank and station.”

The voice replied, “Yes sir, anything else?”

Driver grinned, “Yeah, have the Deck Chief to get a crew over to the Ferum Umbra and striker her name.”

Once again the voice replied, “Yes sir, what would you like in its place?”

“Taskmaster”

“Yes sir, right away, “the transmission ended. 

Driver just kept on grinning and ambling.

OOC:

OK, gentlemen.  That’s it.  I’m now officially no longer a Nazgul in name.  I’ll always be one in spirit, and my door is always open if you need me. Drop by #drivers_office if you need to chat in private or just PM me.  Hunter is now the Old Man, and deserves your respect, he has mine.  Hunter, if you break my squadron, I’ll Catachan you… /me winks and disappears in a plume of green-plum smoke and the smell of brimstone….

Hunter was leaning against the wall of the hangar as he waited for the rest of Nazgul to arrive. He had already been in there when the order to report to the hangar and get ready for liftoff had come through. With a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest.

At last, it’s about time to leave. It’s about time we got in our TIEs and piloted ourselves. I wonder if this mission is going to go as good as my first.

Hunter smirked as he remembered his first mission with Nazgul. It hadn’t been too long before, not recently, but not really that long ago since that mission had taken place. He had been a part of Kaph not long before he embarked on that mission. In fact, the only reason he was in Nazgul was because of the closing down of Kaph. With a grin on his face, he reminisced about his time in Kaph and his time in Nazgul.

Hell, I was even in Viper for a short time.

He continued to grin as the doors opened and the rest of Nazgul filed in, chatting amongst themselves. With a quick movement, Hunter pushed himself up off the wall and walked over the group. Nodding to the few who saw him coming, he came up beside Driver, who was bringing up the rear.

“Ok Nazgul. Hop in your TIEs and get ready to go. We need to be out of here shortly so make it quick.” Driver yelled as they neared the waiting TIEs.

With a few nods and grumbles, Nazgul dispersed and headed towards their respective TIEs. Grinning, Hunter clapped the Nazgul Squadron Commander on the back as he walked by. He jogged over to his TIE and clambered up the side, slipping in through the half opened hatch. Quickly, he started up his TIE and went through a pre-flight checklist, almost unconsciously. Finishing up, he sat back and waited for the order to leave, only moving to sound off.

Shortly afterward, his comm crackled and Driver’s voice rang out, telling them to ready for launch, but was interrupted by the voice of a Flight Control person.

“Nazgul, stand down…repeat, stand down.  Return to docking clamps and await further instruction.”

What? Why? We were just about to go.

Muttering, Hunter climbed back out of his TIE and jumped off, onto the ground. He started walking towards Driver when he was headed off by a technician. Shooting a quick glance at Driver, he saw that the same had happened to the SC as well.

“Sir, you are to report to Captain Denethor’s office immediately. You are to be joined by Atrasin, Willtconq, and Shazam.” the technician said.

Nodding slowly, the now thoroughly confused Hunter followed Driver out of the hangar, he himself being followed by Willtconq and Shazam. They made their way to Denethor’s office in a quiet, single file line. He could tell that Driver was pissed, it was practically radiating off of him. When they reached the office, Driver just slammed into the door and continued on to where the NXO was, not even acknowledging the secretary. With an apologetic shrug to the secretary, Hunter followed in the destructive wake of Driver. When Hunter entered Denethor's office, the two were already in a heated discussion.

The first thing he heard was from Denethor, saying,“Japheth has been…’retired’”

He heard Driver reply, but didn't take it in. He was in partial shock from the news. Even though he had never actually met Japheth, he had heard a lot about him and had saw him at certain meetings and the like. Plus, he was the Naval Commander-in-Chief, which was why Hunter was shocked. Recovering, he heard Denethor speak.

“It seems that an upstart ‘Committee’ of officers decided the Old Man wasn’t doing his job up to specs.  He’s been put on a rather comfortable shuttle bound for Zeltos, with Arturus to boot.”

Hunter spoke now, “That’s mutiny, sir. Who do they think they are?”

Denethor grimly smirked, “Well, WE think we’re looking out for the best interests of the Navy,” looking to the three most senior men standing before him, “correct gentlemen?”

Even though Hunter was looking at Denethor in utter confusion, he felt a change in the air. Looking at Driver, he saw that his SC was looking at him with a small twinkle in his eye. Hunter listened as Driver explained why they did what they did and despite himself, Hunter felt himself silently agreeing. Lately, he actually been feeling along the same lines, that the Navy was going nowhere and that it was about to crash and burn unless something drastically changed.


“So, where do we stand,” asked Will?

“I stand at a crossroads. I’m awaiting full approval from the VEHC to take command as the new NCC. YOU, however, are to immediately take up your new positions. Shaz, you’re my new NXO and I would normally keep you here, but I need your diplomacy on Sarek. Atrasin, as much as a pain in MY ass as you are, I need your skills as a manager, and a bit of your luck…you’re the new Wing Commander…and you’re staying behind.”

“Now wait a minute, those are MY men out there…”

“Correction, those are the VAST EMPIRE’S men…and they are now under the command of Hunter, “snapped the newly minted NCC.

That was when Hunter blanked out. This was happening too fast, all too fast. He had just been made XO of Nazgul not too long ago and now he was being made SC of Nazgul? It was almost too much to handle, but he knew he had to stand strong and not shirk his duty to Nazgul. Snapping his head up, he listened as Driver was promoted, causing him to clap the former SC on the back in congratulations.

“Hunter, you are now officially the SC of Nazgul Squadron, and you will have to be fully briefed on the fly. Commodore Shazam will do so en-route to Sarek. You have been elevated to Warrant Officer, 2nd Class. Do you have anyone in mind for your XO?”

He really didn't even have to think. It was a no-brainer. His choice was out of his mouth before his brain had even began to work.

“Drac, sir.” he said, noting that Driver had turned to him and mouthed the same thing just as he said it.

“Done and done, he’s now the Nazgul XO, and I’ve bumped him to CPO.” Den said, making a small movement with his hand, doing something that Hunter couldn't quite catch.

Nodding and saluting Denethor, Hunter spat out the usual thanks, operating solely on reflex now that it had all finally sunk in deep. Before, he had been reacting to the news just as it was given to him. Now, he actually thought about it and realized something that scared him. He wasn't ready for this. Being an XO was all fine and dandy. He took care of the little stuff while Driver took care of everything else. Now that he was SC, that would all change. He would very possibly have to make life-threatening decisions that would put himself and his men in harm's way.

This is crazy. They really can't expect me to lead Nazgul, can they? Its unthinkable. They wouldn't dare trust me with this . . . but they did. Driver knew I was ready for this kind of responsibility, so why don't I?

Grappling with his own self-doubt, Hunter made his way back to the hangar, alone, Willtconq and Shazam staying behind in Denethor's office. Absorbed deep in his own thoughts, Hunter thought long and hard about what was to happen next and in the future. He was so deep in his thoughts, that he hardly noticed when he reached the hangar, stepping through the open doors without even realizing it. Reaching the group of Nazgul's, he was stopped by Drac, who looked a bit worried at the look on Hunter's face.

“You ok, Hunter? You look like you're going to be sick. Just what went on? And where is Driver? Oh, here come Willtconq and Shazam.” Drac said, frowning.

“Can I talk to you over there for a minute?” Hunter said, motioning towards a far corner.

Nodding, Drac followed Hunter over to the corner. When they were far from the group of Nazguls, Hunter told Drac.

“Listen. There has been a shake-up in the Navy. Denethor vacated the Wing Commander position and it was taken by Driver. That leaves me as the Squadron Commander of Nazgul.” Hunter paused a moment to let that sink in before he gave the part that pertained to Drac, “and I'm making you my XO.”

With a small gasp, Drac's mouth moved, but no other sounds came out. He looked at the floor for a few seconds before looking Hunter in the eyes.

“Thank you. It'll be a honor to serve as your XO.” Drac said.

“Oh yeah, I'm now a Warrant Officer 2nd Class and you are a Chief Petty Officer. Congratulations.”

Drac saluted solemnly, which Hunter returned. Turning, the pair walked back over to the muttering group of Nazguls. Standing still for a few moments, he waited for them to quieten down before talking.

“Ok guys. Change of plans. Driver is now Wing Commander, I'm now Squadron Commander of Nazgul, Drac is now Executive Officer of Nazgul, and Willtconq is now Flight Leader of 2 Flight. Hop into your TIEs. You can discuss on the way to Sarek. Go, go go.”

OOC:

WC: 1613

Arturo, perched on the top rung of the ladder that led to the cockpit of his TIE Avenger, had a pretty good view of the hangar in which the pilots of Nazgul Squadron loafed, waiting for their officers to return from wherever they had gone. And, quite frankly, he was bored. He had started up the engines on his fighter once already, and was still primed and itching to get going, despite the lingering apprehension he felt at flying into actual combat for the first time.

What in the name of the Sith is taking Driver and the others so long? We probably could have gotten to Sarek by now, if certain parties weren’t so slow. I wonder if that’s what will happen to me if I ever become an officer… As he thought, he slowly picked at a spot where the grey paint was peeling; it was forming at a joint on the metal ladder he sat on. As the tiny flecks of paint fell down through the mesh decking of the catwalk he was perched upon, his thoughts wandered to how he had felt when he had gotten into that cockpit for the first time, minutes ago.

That was quite something, actually… I really felt as though I had some sort of… limitless power at my fingertips. Flying a piece of machinery such as this, he mused, glancing at the TIE behind him, I guess I can understand where that feeling comes from. It’s hard to describe, too. Something like before you got on one of those repulsorcoasters at the thrill park back home, I guess… His thoughts quickly silenced themselves as he noticed the group of Nazgul officers making their way back towards his end of the hangar. They returned even stronger after a moment, though, when Arturo realized that Driver was now conspicuously absent from the group. He swiftly descended the stairs to the main hangar deck and found a spot to stand in the knot of Nazgul pilots that was forming around Hunter and the rest. He strained to listen to what was being said, over the warning siren of a hoverlift backing up to his left.

“…is now Wing Commander, I'm now Squadron Commander of Nazgul, Drac is now Executive Officer of Nazgul, and Willtconq is now Flight Leader of 2 Flight. Hop into your TIEs. You can discuss on the way to Sarek. Go, go go.” Arturo jogged back over to the stairs, all the way up them, and down the catwalk to the ladder. He climbed up, tossed his helmet down onto the pilot’s couch, and after a second of maneuvering, his body followed suit. He didn’t pause, didn’t think, just went through his preflight sequence almost automatically, hands working independently from his reeling brain, as if he had been employed for the past decade warming up TIE Avengers. A small part of him noted two things: that he had done everything flawlessly this time, and that the sensation of being the master of his own fate; owner, at least for this mission, of a starfighter with which he could destroy those who had caused him torment and injury in the past…

Arturo shook his head, as if to empty it of thoughts, much like a child would gently rattle a piggybank in hopes of coaxing a few more coins out of it. He needed to focus. As he flipped the cover for the ignition button, and depressed it, he started to hear the squadron’s roll call once more. The engines thrummed to life with a resounding roar, then settled into their powerful whine after a moment. All of his systems, once again, read green across the board. He listened to his comm intently, waiting for his turn to announce to his squadronmates that he was here, ready to fly, and most importantly, ready to succeed.

As Nine and Ten, the pair of Mon Cals, Drac and Stewart-Power, announced their readiness, Arturo keyed his comm and spoke, calmly but with an edge. “Eleven is ready.” He then listened as Twelve, Shazam, spoke: “Twelve here- ready when you are, guys.” His voice came out strong and with a commanding presence. Also, it carried with it real weight and purpose this time, unlike the jovial Shazam he had encountered in the bar before the mission briefing. Arturo chalked it up to Shazam focusing on the mission at hand. Or perhaps he’s that way normally, and not the aloof guy I met earlier…

Hunter launched first, followed by all of 1 Flight. Arturo watched as four TIE Avengers glided out of the hangar on repulsorlifts, then punched their engines as soon as they cleared the magcon field, hard enough to possibly peel the paint or leave scorch marks on the hull of the Atrus outside it’s main hangar bay. I hope Denethor isn’t pissed about that… but I won’t hold my breath. Maybe when we get back, he’ll trot out Driver from his office to berate us, for old times’ sake?

2 Flight, led by Will, followed suit, blasting out from the SSD as soon as its pilots could do so. Arturo could feel his palms starting to sweat a little bit, could feel his heart thumping in his head, could feel the odd mixture of butterflies and adrenaline running its course in his gut. He waited, as Drac detached his TIE from the clamps holding it in place, the ship hovering in place as it dipped down slightly. Arturo, Shazam, and Stewart’s ships all followed suit, their fighters coming free with a dull metallic clank echoing across the hangar bay as each fighter detached itself from the restraints that held them in place. Drac swiftly exited the hangar, Stewart too, and then it was Arturo’s turn. He eased the yoke forward, gently urging the Avenger forward, until its prow, then the cockpit, then its engines, were suddenly in the vacuum of space. He increased the throttle, and settled back in his pilot’s couch, satisfied with the slight kick he felt. The inertial compensator kicked in, though, and the momentary sensation passed.

Arturo edged into formation behind Drac, and he noted Shazam’s presence as the Commodore took his place on his wing, behind him. This must be pretty surreal for him… He checked the navicomputer again, and was satisfied with the coordinates that had been preloaded into the computer before he took off. In that short amount of time, 1 Flight had vanished into hyperspace, and 2 Flight was revving up. Then, they too shot forwards, and disappeared among the stars. Arturo was sweating more, now, but as he got the green light from Drac to engage his hyperdrive, Arturo’s nervousness somehow dissolved, disappearing, as did his Avenger from the Vectra System.

Well, that part’s over with… now for a two-hour flight before we drop out at Sarek, into who-knows-what. However, I’d best be productive. And with that thought, Arturo switched his primary comm to his own private channel, and began to dictate to the ship’s computer, which logged his words into a file he could retrieve later, after the mission. If he came back.

OOC:

Word Count: 1190
I'll have another up tomorrow, maybe...

Drac smiled to himself, thrilling at the vibrations moving through his cockpit as he powered up the TIE Avenger. He patted the armrest absently, thinking about the missions this ship had seen him through and all the dangers they’d faced together. Who knew? Maybe someday, when all this was over and done with, he’d see if the VEN might sell him the ship for personal use…that is, if either he or ship survived up to that point.

Moments later everyone was ready to go.  Drac had a hand on the docking clamp release, listening as Driver began to speak. The Squadron Commander had barely begun his orders when another voice broke over the line, “Nazgul, stand down…repeat, stand down.  Return to docking clamps and await further instruction.” Frowning, the Mon Calamari released the lever and flicked several switches, his mood cycling lower and sputtering out along with the Avenger’s engines. They hadn’t even left the Atrus and they’d already hit a snag. This did not bode well.

Climbing out of his TIE, Drac saw people intercepting Driver, Hunter, and the two new officers, beckoning the four through a hatch. Reaching the deck Drac started forward after them but stopped when the Ensign turned ever so lightly and shook his head no. Wheeling around, the Mon Cal retraced his steps and headed back toward the rest of Nazgul.

Most of the squadron was milling about on the deck by this time, obviously puzzled. Questioning looks were flying thicker than lasers in a furball, and now most of them were coming his way. Raising a hand, he called them together, “Before you ask: No, I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. Sitting around here picking our brains isn’t going to do us much good, though.” Pulling a datapad from his pocket, the Flight Leader held it before him, “You all have the mission specs and planetary maps on your datapads. I suggest you sit tight and study them until we do receive further orders. Also, stay in the hangar. I don’t want anyone returning to quarters or running off somewhere we can’t find you.”

DarianRogue sighed, muttering, “We’ve been through that so many times my eyes are going to bleed if I read it again.”

“Then get a napkin to mop ‘em up.” Okay, yeah, I maybe shouldn’t be that hard on him. Fortunately, reading it again won’t do him any harm. This sudden emergency or whatever it is certainly has me in an off mood, though, the Mon Cal thought to himself.

He followed his own advice, settling himself on a nearby crate and opening the file containing the mission information. He ran through it quickly, knowing most of it by heart already. After a quick scan through the data he narrowed his attention to the planet itself and the system it inhabited, studying the number and layout of the system’s planets as well as the locations of its major cities and the most common terrain types and atmospheric conditions. No matter what they ran into on Sarek, knowing the area would be a priceless asset- one he intended to have a full use of.

Only about ten minutes had passed when the hatch opened again, admitting Hunter, Shazam, and Will. Drac stood, pocketing the datapad, and frowned as he realized Driver was absent from the group now walking toward him across the deck. In Driver’s absence he focused his attention on Hunter, and noted that the other pilot looked quite disturbed- even sick to his stomach. If someone blew up Driver’s brother or something, I’m going to…to…I don’t know. Cry in frustration. Laugh at the fact that they’ve doomed themselves. Something. That had better not be the case. When Hunter got closer, the Mon Calamari pulled him off to the side, “You ok, Hunter? You look like you're going to be sick. Just what went on? And where is Driver? Oh, here come Willtconq and Shazam.”

“Can I talk to you over there for a minute?” Hunter said, motioning towards a far corner.

Nodding, Drac followed Hunter over to the corner. When they got there Hunter turned and spoke, looking uneasy, “Listen. There has been a shake-up in the Navy. Denethor vacated the Wing Commander position and it was taken by Driver. That leaves me as the Squadron Commander of Nazgul.” Hunter paused a moment to let that sink in before he gave the part that pertained to Drac, “and I'm making you my XO.”

Drac was unable to stifle a gasp, but lowered his head as he considered what he’d just heard. He was turned away slightly, enough that he doubted Hunter saw his right eye swivel toward the Nazzies as he thought. This is…complicated. I know there’s been a lot of grumbling about the Naval High Command, so it isn’t unwelcome or even totally unexpected. But if this backfires, anyone who gained from it is going to end up chewing a firing squad’s blaster bolts…in which case, I’d likely end up in that group anyway. What it really comes down to is Nazgul. Do I feel that I can perform as their XO? I don’t know…but I do know that I’d do anything for them and that I’ve always wanted to go as far as I can in the Navy. Well, if one plans to brush a whirlpool it is best to do so at full speed- with no reservations.

Looking up at Hunter, Nazgul’s new Executive Officer nodded, “Thank you. It'll be an honor to serve as your XO.”

When their conversation concluded Drac threw the SC a solemn salute, which was returned. The pair then turned back toward the rest of the squadron and made their way over. When they got there Drac raised his voice, “Nazzies! Quiet down and pay attention…this is important.” He then nodded at Hunter, who began to speak.

“Ok guys. Change of plans. Driver is now Wing Commander, I'm now Squadron Commander of Nazgul, Drac is now Executive Officer of Nazgul, and Willtconq is now Flight Leader of 2 Flight. Hop into your TIEs. You can discuss on the way to Sarek. Go, go go.”

Drac scrambled along with the rest of the squadron and found himself back in his TIE in short order. Re-engaging the engines, he did a quick but thorough pre-flight check. As he finished his com unit crackled and Stewart’s voice came through, “Just wanted to say congrats, Nine. I have to admit that I’m still confused, though. What’s really going on?”

“I don’t know much more than you do, Ten, if any. Stow that for later, though. We’ve got a mission to carry out.”

The chorus of launch announcements began, and Drac called out in his turn, “Nine has two lit and green. Shields are good, too. Launching- three flight, follow me out.” Pulling the lever that released the Avenger’s docking claw, the Mon Calamari engaged the engines and roared out of the hangar. The rest of three flight joined him in short order, arraying themselves in a diamond formation as the squadron pulled up into a climb and rolled out to cross over the Atrus’s nose. Glancing at the colossal ship, Drac felt a sudden pang. Driver was down there, and would be staying there. It felt oddly like the death of a friend, even though the old pilot had definitely gotten a good break. It was just that in his time in the VEN, Drac had never served under anyone else. It was strange.  So as he flew over the ship the Chief Petty Officer waggled his wings, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Driver was watching and would catch the small tribute.

Nazgul came about and onto their hyperspace heading. Hunter confirmed that everyone’s navicomps were set, and then gave the order. One flight stretched with pseudo motion and disappeared. Then two flight followed. As the second diamond of fighters disappeared Drac ordered three flight out, “Engage hyperdrives.” The stars turned instantly from pinpricks to beams of light that twirled into a bright, effervescent white blur. Here we go.

OOC:

Word Count: 1349

Arturo sighed, and stretched his legs in what little space he had in the TIE cockpit he sat in.  He was bored, and his computer told him he had almost a half-hour until he and the rest of Nazgul Squadron arrived at Sarek.  He grunted as his calves protested initially at the sudden tension, and then gave way to that nice feeling one gets immediately after stretching his legs.  His letter had been written and edited already; he had done that for the past almost hour, before taking a short catnap.  He had dictated to the computer, played around with it until he got what he wanted, and saved it, to be uploaded from his fighter when he returned from this mission.

If I get that chance, that is…

The nervousness he had first encountered at takeoff returned as soon as that thought trailed off, a lump of ice suddenly solidifying in his gut.  His palms began to sweat.  His heart rate went up; he could feel his pulse throb in the veins on his temples.  His vision blurred for a moment, before he forced himself to calm down and breathe deeper, rather than the short, shallow breaths he had found himself gasping for.  Sweat beaded on his brow as he realized he had never experienced that particular sensation before: panic.

Sure, I was worried when I got ambushed by those damned criminals, when I had to fly in training for the first time, when I found out I would be going on a mission right off the bat, but those sensations paled in comparison to…this.  I find this… most interesting.

He pondered what had just happened, and why he had reacted so… powerfully to the thought of death, specifically, his death.  Then, suddenly, as if to give the impression that he was one who simply liked to play with the cockpit controls and push buttons, he nonchalantly keyed his comm  and called up a list of squadron frequencies.  He scrolled down the list until he found the private channel that Commodore Shazam purportedly used.  He selected it, and spoke.  “Twelve, this is Eleven.”

A bit of static was the only response he got for a moment; then, a reply: “Eleven, I copy.  This is Twelve, go ahead.”  Is it just me, or does he sound… almost irritated?  Much different than when I met him for the first time.

Arturo spoke again.  “Twelve, do you ever get the fear?  I mean, not the usual lingering doubt that every pilot flies with, or the worry that some have when the shooting starts, but that cold dread kind of fear?”

Silence was, again, the only thing emanating from his earpiece.  Arturo waited for nearly a full minute before Shazam said anything.  When he did finally speak again, it was not what Arturo expected, a very flat and very definite, “No.”

That’s it?  Just ‘no’?  Not very talkative right now, is he?  I guess I can’t blame him, he’s probably focused on his objectives and what he needs to do.  As I should be, myself.  He hit the comm again, and said to Shazam, “Thank you, Twelve.”  Static.

--------------------

Arturo switched back to the squadron channel, and proceeded to spend the last ten minutes of Nazgul’s hyperspace flight, and perhaps the last ten minutes of his life, quiet and alone in his thoughts.

The chrono on his display slowly ticked seconds off, slower and slower it seemed with each passing moment.  His hands were very sweaty by now, and he would have no grip on any of the controls or switches were it not for the gloves he wore.  His breathing had become more rapid again, but this time, he wasn’t nervous, scared, panicked, or any of those.  He was determined, collected, and only slightly anxious as the chrono neared zero.  He tensed slightly, gripped the yoke, and tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever might lay in front of him, both literally and figuratively.  The swirl of hyperspace receded, then resolved itself into the millions of pinpricks of light that made up the galaxy.  Nazgul was in formation around him, and dead ahead, was…

Nothing.  No battle, no dogfight, no capital ships duking it out blow for blow.  No explosions, nobody dying.  Arturo thanked his luck for that last one.  All that occupied his viewport was the brownish, hazy atmosphere of the planet Sarek, hanging peacefully in the sky, undisturbed.  Drac’s Avenger drifted into the corner of the panoramic vista presented to him, and Arturo snapped back to the present as he realized that he, and not Drac, was drifting off-course.  Frowning to himself under his helmet, he edged back to port slightly and corrected the minor flaw in the formation he had caused by his inattention.  He resolved to himself to not let any more mistakes on his part happen again during this mission, as even the smallest miscue could prove to be his undoing in a dogfight.

Hunter’s voice filtered through his helmet, giving orders to Nazgul Squadron.  “Alright.  Everything looks to be okay for the moment, so here’s the gameplan:  One and Two Flights, stay up in high orbit with me.  We’ll keep an eye out for whatever comes into the system.  Nine, take Three Flight and escort twelve down to the surface do he can do his thing.  Eleven will land with him and make sure everything is okay before we let Twelve go in by himself.  Nine and Ten will fly Combat Air Patrol while Twelve and Eleven land, then the rest of Three Flight will get back up here, pronto.  Questions?  Good.  Lead out.”

Arturo forced himself to relax a little at the prospect of landing in front of a bunch of foreign dignitaries; he fervently hoped he didn’t crack up and wreck an expensive fighter, making Nazgul a laughingstock and Shazam look like he represented a bunch of incompetents, rather than the Naval High Command.  Drac came on the comm and ordered Three Flight to ease down into the atmosphere.  Arturo nosed his yoke down and pushed his Avenger into a shallow dive, down towards Sarek.  Three Flight maintained its diamond formation throughout the descent, and until it broke through the upper cloud layers, when Drac and Stewart split off and stayed high, keeping a vigil over Arturo and Shazam.  The pair continued their slow dive towards what appeared to be a sprawling metropolis; not built upwards too much, but rather outwards, over a vast area of what appeared to be dozens of kilometers.

Arturo, despite an increasing sensation of nervousness, kept a relatively steady hand as he followed Shazam down to what the computer designated as their landing zone, a large ferrocrete pad that had several other smaller ships parked on it.  As the pair neared the pad, they both kicked in their repulsorlifts and cut their engines; Shazam did so first, then Arturo following his lead.  Shazam set his Avenger down with practiced skill, barely noticing the slight bump he felt as his fighter made contact with the ferrocrete.  Arturo’s landing wasn’t bad either, though he hit the deck slightly harder than he intended to. Breathing a small sigh of both relief and triumph, he proceeded to shut down his fighter’s systems, powering it down.  He popped the egress hatch, and prepared to face the delegation that had assembled at the edge of the landing pad, apparently waiting for Shazam and Arturo to exit their craft and join them.  Taking a deep breath, he swung the hatch open, and climbed out of the cockpit.  He scaled his way down to his port wing pylon, and jumped the rest of the way down, his boots hitting the deck with a slight thud.  He looked up and saw Shazam, already out of his flight suit and decked out in his dress uniform, complete with Commodore’s insignia and many medals, waiting for him.  He removed his helmet, returned the nod that Shazam gave him, and the two pilots, one a seasoned veteran and one a nervous rookie, turned and started towards the Sarekian delegation, unsure of what to expect…

OOC:

Word Count: 1352
Okay, we're at Sarek now... This would be a good spot for Shazam to post, maybe?

Rocket finishes explaining all of the details about the bar fight. After a few seconds Chief Warrant Officer Grizzly gets up and starts to pace around the interrogation room thinking about all of the information that he has just heard. After lighting up a smoke he sits back down and says “So you did not start that fight that had just happened?”
“I did not sir.”
“Okay so you’re saying that one of the higher ranking people in your squadron told you to fight them.”
“Yes that’s what I said.”
“Okay than let’s talk about you time in the Vast Empire.”
“What does that have to do with this sir?”
“I just don’t believe what your saying is true or not.”
“Well I graduated from the Academy and then got assigned to Viper Squadron after a while with them I went to Kaph because of things information I found out on my father so I had to investagate that when I got back I was in Kaph.”
“I see so this is not your first bar fight that you have been in is it.”
“No it’s not sir.”
“So why do you just use your callsign instead of your name?”

What is with this guy why is he prying so much into my  past what is he out to get from me I told everything about the bar fight and he still wants more oh well might as well answer his questions so I won’t get into trouble for not giving information on a order.

“”Well because I have not earned the right to use It.?
“I see did you know that your grandfather was a senator.”
“I did sir.”
“Did you also know that your father and grandfather got into fights because of the fact that your father did not want to continue the family tradition.”
“I did sir.”

Where is this guy getting all of his information from that’s not in my file I wonder what he is going to ask next.

“Well crewman thank you for your time you can go back to the cell now.”
A MP walks in and nudges Rocket to step out of the room and go back to the cell. When Rocket gets back to the cell he finds that most of the squadron is up and moving around wondering where they were at, and how they got there.  Rocket decides since he knows what is going on that he explains everybody what is going on after he does he goes and sits down on one of the chairs that is vacant in the cell.

That was not a fun interrogation that Chief Warrant Officer really wanted to know my life story he should think better than to ask that. Bad things happen to people that want to know about my life for some reason I have bad luck when it comes to my past about my life and my family.

After thinking this Rocket notices two more MP’s come into the cell and call for Carpet, so Rocket decides that it would be a good time to get some sleep for the upcoming mission.


---Thirty minutes later---

Rocket wakes up and notices everyone just board out of their mind, so he decides to do something useful and look up information on something that he loaded into his pad. The door opens and the SC walks into the room.

Here we go time for a butt chewing.

---After the chewing---

Rocket decides that it would be a good time to go to his room to make sure that he has everything for the mission. When he gets to his room he finds that he has everything that he needs for the mission. He hears a buzzing noise and realizes that it is his comlink and its saying that the meeting is taking place, so Rocket heads to the briefing room once he gets their he takes his usual seat in the back, than Atrasin starts the meeting by introducing two offices that one Rocket recognized as the Training Officer at the Academy when he was going though BCT and found out that the other ones name was Willtconq, so we have new faces in Nazgul again well that’s not too bad at least recruiting is up again, but then again these two are vet’s so really can’t add them to the recruiting count. Rocket listens to the briefing and pays close attention to every detail so that he can’t get any part of the mission wrong. Once the briefing is over Rocket hurries to the hanger.


---In the hanger---

Finally we are gonna gets this mission done feels like forever since I have had one. Rocket gets to his fighter and hops in and starts to do his pre-flight checks and turns the engines, lasers, and shields on after a few seconds Driver comes on the comm’s and asks for checks to see if everyone is in the green.“This is 1-2 everything is in the green boss.” Rocket than waits for everyone else to say that they are green, after everyone does their check in a voice comes over the comm’s “Nazgul, stand down…repeat, stand down.  Return to docking clamps and await further instruction.”

Confused Rocket powers downs and hops out of his tie and starts to walk towards Drac and hears “Before you ask: No, I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. Sitting around here picking our brains isn’t going to do us much good, though.” Pulling a datapad from his pocket, the Flight Leader held it before him, “You all have the mission specs and planetary maps on your datapads. I suggest you sit tight and study them until we do receive further orders. Also, stay in the hangar. I don’t want anyone returning to quarters or running off somewhere we can’t find you.”

DarianRogue sighed, muttering, “We’ve been through that so many times my eyes are going to bleed if I read it again.”

“Then get a napkin to mop ‘em up.”

Rocket pulls out his datapad and starts to study it after a while he hears voices and looks up, and sees that Hunter, Shazam, and Willtconq have come back but not Driver. This is weird if we have a mission than why is he not here? Rocket sees Hunter call Drac over and talk to him about something after that both of them walked over and say Nazzies! Quiet down and pay attention…this is important.” He then nodded at Hunter, who began to speak.

“Ok guys. Change of plans. Driver is now Wing Commander, I'm now Squadron Commander of Nazgul, Drac is now Executive Officer of Nazgul, and Willtconq is now Flight Leader of 2 Flight. Hop into your TIEs. You can discuss on the way to Sarek. Go, go go.”

Rocket hops up and sprints towards his fighter and gets inside of it and starts it up and get ready to leave after Hunter gives the okay he declamps and gets outside of the ship and waits for the Hunter to give the okay to go to hyperspace once he does Rocket engages hyperspace.

OOC:

1,192 words just wanted to get caught up.

Shazam was thankful for his jacket; the jackets provided for most naval pilots were enough to keep a guy alive, sure, but another thing entirely if a pilot wanted to keep warm.  Having entered the atmosphere already, though, the pilot's jacket was becoming less of a necessity and more of a designer element, so as he and Arturo made landfall, the wing-tips resting with as little agitation as possible on the durasteel landing platform, he quickly unstrapped and removed the jacket in favor of the military uniform he kept packed in the storage space of the avenger.  Running his hands through his hair, he tried to relax again, taking deep breathes and clearing his mind as best he could.  Alright then, he thought as he maneuvered around his pilot's chair and hit the access on the exit hatch.  As the hatch opened, gossamer threads of the planet's evening sun played along the floor and sides of the cabin, growing wider until the hatch was fully opened.  Wiping away some of the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, the pilot braced himself, then jumped, pulling himself up to the exterior hull of the craft.  Feeling the wind on his face, he pulled the rest of his body through and swung his legs from the opening onto the sides of the craft; he was confronted immediately by the brightness of the planet's twilight, though.  And, he realized, the surprising chill accompanying it.  Maybe I'll need that jacket after all, he thought as he glanced around.  A wind was picking up.

Taking in his surroundings, Shazam realized that the building he and Arturo had landed on was one of many similar buildings, most of them cylindrical and with sheened windows that mirrored their surroundings with a greenish tint.  The building that stood nearest, and slightly taller than the one Shazam was sitting on, appeared as if had been washed only minutes ago.  In the reflection, however, Shazam could see Arturo's fighter, and beyond him...  My dignitaries...  Swinging back around, he surveyed the slab of durasteel that stood between him and about five people on the far end of the roof.  They'd come from an elevated area with two, highly decorated doors, and were now walking down a long staircase to come and meet them.

"Here!  Here!" A high, but harsh voice yelled over the sound of aircraft and wind.  Shazam momentarily forgot about the delegates as he looked on instinct for the source of the growling tenor.  What he found was four beings, all no taller than three and a half feet, and with red beards and scrunched faces, pushing a bright yellow service ladder.  Each wore goggles and bibs that appeared as if they'd been soaked in oil, and, even with their combined strength, they struggled to push the ladder to the avenger craft waiting at the end of the platform. 

"No need!" Shazam shouted to them as he slipped off the side of the ship, feeling a slight shock run through his body as his feet met the ground.  Gotta remember not to do that, he thought as he straightened up and shook it out.  Shazam nodded to the service crew, who were now thoroughly exhausted and gasping for air as they clung to the ladder for support.  He strode past them, then, slapping the pylon of Arturo's avenger as he slipped underneath it, he quickened his pace across the roof.  He heard the hatch release behind him a moment later, but he'd already made eye contact with the delegate in front of him.  "Commodore!" The man yelled excitedly, waving him over as the rest of his gang caught up.  He must be one of our more loyal customers, Shazam thought as he quickly bounded toward the bottom of the stairs.  Then he realized who it was.

"Lord Creel?" Shazam said with a kind tone and a grin that reached from ear-to-ear.  The older man, his short white hair glowing like a halo as the sun settled behind him, looked pleasantly surprised and he stopped.  Though Shazam didn't hardly acknowledge it, the baron was wearing some of the most impressive blue robes he'd ever seen, and a sharp cologne that always seemed to accompany head statesmen.  Instead, the commodore nodded slightly, the unofficial "bow" of a diplomat to the high authority of an allied regime.

"Am I so easy to spot?" the baron said with mock disappointment, meeting Shazam's eyes with a seemingly genuine humility.  Shazam decided right there that he liked the old man, his tan skin showing the years of grins and inside jokes, of constant amusement and charm.  Where are these people in my life, he thought privately, saying only:

"It's an honor to meet you."  Creel smiled and slapped the commodore on the shoulder warmly, then reached out with his other arm to redirect Shazam's attention.  Filing down the stairs, one by one, in equally elaborate dress, were Lord Creel's diplomats, or aids, or...  Who knew.  "Lady Trillian, my colleague in Sarek's high council," Creel said, indicating an older woman with neat lines for eyebrows and a fast trot for a walk.  As she moved out of the way, quick to escape the spotlight, Creel announced a girl that could have been no more than eighteen; she was pretty, but clearly still a girl, her hair tightly braided so that it formed a single pony-tail down her back.  Her manner of dress was also less reserved and aimed, seemingly, at drawing attention to how skillfully the robe had been put together, with it's doile-like patterns and other delicate touches. With the manner of a princess, though, she curtsied and smiled in a way that Shazam couldn't help but find endearing, so he chuckled somewhat sheepishly and returned a slight bow.  "Nallia Triss, junior aid to the high council, and," Creel winked to the girl," my grand-daughter."  The girl placed her hands quaintly behind her back and promptly joined Lady Trillion, the older woman seemingly less impressed.

"Commodore, it's a pleasure," a gentlemen with slicked black hair said, his build heavy but trim, and his demeanor sharp; he reminded Shazam of an underground syndicate leader he'd met once when trading spice- he had a similar smile, too, Shazam thought to himself.  The commodore replied- "And to you." 

"Lieutenant Zutu is the correspondent between planetary forces and your Imperial Garrison here on Sarek, Commodore.  He'll be assisting us when it comes to numbers," Creel said, adding- "You'll have to forgive me- the exactitudes of data often leave me, Commodore."  He, again, mocked disappointment before announcing-"Lastly, Commodore, but certainly not least, is Vell Jette, our newest and youngest member of the Sarek High Council."  Shazam couldn't help but be recognize that, to most women, Jette was probably a very handsome man; he appeared to be bred for public approval, too.  He had strong features, silver eyes and long silver hair that, like Creel's grand-daughter, was knotted into a pony-tail.  The two men seemed to size eachother before eventaully nodding without words to one another.  Hmph Shazam thought, not sure what to make of the man.

"And now, Commodore, that I've introduced you to my fold, I'd appreciate it if we could meet your companion here," Creel said, nodding past Shazam to the single pilot who'd been listening quietly near a banister for some time now.  "You there!  Pilot!  Identify yourself."  Arturo looked as if someone had suddenly punched the wall he'd been leaning against to eavesdrop.  Surprised, he mumbled something of an excuse, but Creel decided to save him the trouble:  "Actually, we'll get to know you a little better inside.  Come with us!"  Now Arturo seemed to find his voice:

"I appreciate the offer, Sir, but I'm afraid my orders are to re-join my flight as soon as the Commodore is set."  Arturo glanced at Shazam for his reaction to the diplomat; Shazam gave him an almost imperceptable nod as if to say "Good."  Creel didn't take it too hard, nodding unabashed as he said-

"I understand; unfortunate, but perhaps another time."  Unfortunate, indeed, Shazam chuckled, thinking of the pampering Arturo would have received had he stuck around "assisting" in diplomacy.  It was likely that what was to follow would be a series of extravagant gestures, like an invitation to a dinner or ball: everybody, even if they hated the imperials, seemed to pull out all the stops to show that they weren't cheap.  For that reason, Shazam had to admit that there were some perks to being a diplomat.  Arturo was still waiting, so Shazam gave him a nod and said- "Thank you, Arturo."  Turning away, the commodore proceeded to say- "You now have my full attention, Lord Creel.  I'll follow you..."  Creel appeared satisfied with this and was smiling.  Then...  It faded as his eyes faded to something in the distance.

Shazam's entire body stiffened suddenly as the sound of something all too familiar cut through the wind and reached his ears.  Turning, he caught site of emerald bolts streaking through the sky and meeting what appeared to be an unoccupied office building.  Did he just fire into a civilian building!? Shazam thought, catching sight of a lone avenger as it quickly arced away from it's firing path.  Before he or Arturo, who was now running back to the fighters, could truly react, the scene suddenly shook with such ferocity and heat, that Shazam thought he was certainly dead.  What he did know, as he suddenly felt his back slam against the durasteel, was that things were now going very, very wrong.

My first mission and I've already possibly lost a few of my pilots. What a Squadron Commander I'm turning out to be.

His mind whirling, Hunter twisted and turned, deftly evading each and every shot that was aimed at him. His skill was the only thing that he could count on at the moment, as most of his pilots seem to have been grounded and his luck wasn't the best. It was quite possibly, the scariest thing in his life. Basically, it was him against however many squadrons the enemy – whoever they were – had in the air. Cursing, he dodged another extremely close shot, and barrel rolled right into the line of fire of another fighter. Despite his uncanny skill, the numbers game was starting to catch up with Hunter and it wouldn't be long until he was caught.

I can't keep this up. I have to bang out now before they shoot me out of the sky. But if I bang out now, they'll shoot me to pieces. I might as well take as many with me as I can. I have no other options . . . or do I?

Thoughtfully, in spite of the danger hurtling towards him, Hunter realized he had one more option left. To purposefully crash and eject before landing, hoping for the best. With one final yell of frustration, Hunter climbed as high as he could. When he had gained so much altitude that a slight frost appeared on the very edge of his viewport, he turned it into a sharp dive, aimed straight down at the ground. Spiraling, he let loose with a volley of fire, clipping a few fighters to his immense satisfaction. Like a dagger, Hunter sheared through the crowd of enemy fighters and continued on to the ground, followed only by a few daring pilots. As the group neared the ground, one by one, fighters pulled up, until only Hunter was left and even then, he increased his speed. At the last possible second, he pulled up and flew parallel to the ground. So close was it, that he literally heard scraping echoing up through the wings and into the cockpit. Slowly, he oriented himself downwards, until his Avenger's wingtips caught in the ground and flipped it, tearing part of each wing off. As the Avenger rolled over and over, Hunter curled up into a ball to protect himself. When, at last, it stopped moving, Hunter detached himself from the seat and crawled out the broken viewport, scratching up his arms and legs on the broken transparisteel. Clenching his teeth, he ignored the stabbing pain and stood up, stumbling away from the smoking wreckage. Beat up as he was, he still could manage to get as far away from the wreckage before the enemy fighters came to investigate. The area was relatively flat, though he could see some buildings in the far distance.

There are a few rocks here and there that I can hide behind. I just need to get to them. As soon as I'm safe, I'll assess myself. I'm no use to anyone if I'm dead.

Quickly as he could, he stumbled his way over to the nearest rock, a tannish-gray boulder that came up to his chest. Crouching down behind it, he leaned back against it and closed his eyes, biting his cheek as a wave of pain overtook him.

It seems I have broken a bone or bruised something. The tenderness of my right side leads me to believe I may have broken some ribs and the way my vision keeps swimming and I'm slightly dizzy must mean I have some kind of head injury, hopefully one that is not fatal.

A slight whine began that slowly changed into a high pitched scream, announcing the presence of the enemy. Shrinking down as low as he could, Hunter tried not to move as to not attract unwanted attention. A short time later, the sound ceased and Hunter peeked over the top of the rock to see that no fighters were in sight. Standing up gingerly, Hunter began the long trek towards the distant buildings.

---Unknown Amount of Time Later---

The buildings were definitely closer, but Hunter seemed to be making slow progress. The hard clay had long since turned to soft, red sand. That made it harder for Hunter to walk as every time he moved, his feet shifted farther down into the sand and it took more energy to move his feet. Slowly, his strength was being sapped by the relentless sand. What seemed to be hours later, the inches deep sand had turned to meters deep sand dunes and the buildings frequently were out of sight for a little bit while he descended and ascended various dunes. Eventually, he began to make out small details of the buildings like the fact that they seemed to be newly constructed, the wear and tear of being in the desert had not began to appear on the seemingly smooth surfaces. He had about what seemed to be eleven dunes left to go when he stumbled upon something – or rather someone – that he hadn't expected to see. As he came over the dune, he lost his footing and fell down the front of it, sliding the last few feet on his back, eyes closed to keep the sand out. Coming to a rest, he opened his eyes . . . to see the barrel of a rifle pointed at the space between his eyes.

“[Who are you and what are you doing?]” a rough, guttural voice rang out in Shyriiwook.

Raising an eyebrow, Hunter's mouth gaped open as the familiar voice registered in his mind. It had been a long time since he had heard it, but he wouldn't forget that voice for a while. The aforementioned voice belonged to an old pilot, one that had mysteriously disappeared back when Hunter had still been a Flight Leader for Nazgul. That pilot was Ruwacca, also known to most as Ruwe.

OOC:

WC: 1008. I needed, scratch that, WANTED a good ending so this is what I chose to end it with And besides, its 12:10 AM and I need to get my arse to bed.

This was perhaps the loneliest mission Will had ever been on. And he didn’t even know it until he hopped into his fighter. As he was going through the system checks in the hanger absent mindedly, still thinking about the whole shake down thing that he just devised with the other commanders, a message was sent to his datapad, marked “urgent”. Will opened the message, looked it over, and then went back to his checks. A few seconds later, it hit him. The message had said “Nazgul three Carpet, six Vermin, and seven Valkyrie are ordered off the mission by commander Atrasin.” That’s freaking my whole flight! So much for becoming a flight leader again with no one to lead. Was the first thing that popped into Will’s mind when the concept finally came to realization. How the hell am I supposed to fly out there all by myself?

Quickly opening a secure channel to Hunter, Will said, “Hunter, you getting this? Carpet and the rest of my flight have been ordered off the mission? Man, I thought one hiccup was bad enough, but two?!”

“It’s what I got too. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it. Once we’re at the location, after the hyperspace jump, why don’t you link up with Flight one?”

“Yeah, guess I’ll have to. I’ll check in after the jump.”

“Copy that.”

___________________________________________


The numerous stars streaked past the viewport, then formed into a tunnel like vortex around the ship as it hurled toward the destination. Will closed his eyes and laid back in the seat, almost slouching a bit. It was a force of habit. To him, the hyperspace was nothing special as many others thought so. It was just a continuous blue stream of light that swarmed past, never-ending, repeating for hours on end. And sitting in a stationary position, relatively speaking, while doing nothing, is not something Will was fond of. So instead of gazing out the viewport in wonder, Will had found it was much easier to pass time inside his own mind as thoughts and dreams took him to places beyond the tunnel.

As he napped in the darkness of the cabin, the mind wandered through his recent experiences. The rodian he stared to death in the cantina; the smell of bantha fodder; the appearance of unknown men at his secluded home; the first time he saw the Atrus in two years; the inside of an Imperial hanger bay; the office of his past CO, Den; the hours spent hunched over the desk drawing up the necessary documents and plans for the “mutiny”; the looks of Hunter’s face as the news was revealed to him; the back end of the Avenger as it hung from the hook on the walk way; the realization that he was once again, alone. The memories played out in front of him as he slumped there, motionless, half real, half dream, things that were, things that are, things that could have been, things that should have been, things that were not, things that are not.

A beep went off in the cabin, notifying him that they were about to reach the end of their jump. Straightening up, Will went through a pre-exiting-hyperspace-check. It was a practice not many did, but he believed should be done just in case. There were more than a few times when pilots were blown out of existence no more than five seconds after exiting hyperspace. Accidents happen, but most of those were due to unpreparedness, and being caught off guard. You never know what might be going on on the other end of the tunnel until you actually exit the tunnel. Then it’s too late.

No sooner than he finished the checks, the blue walls of the tunnel pulled back into white steaks of lights, before shortening into dashes, then finally settling on dots in the distance as Will completely exited hyperspace. A barrel roll later, Will listened. Calmness. There was no battle going on. A good sign. They’re not being shot at, which is always a good sign until things change.

“Alright, Hunter, linking up with Flight one.” Will said calmly as he engaged the diamond formation and took up the back end position with Flight one. It was normally DR’s position, but he guessed Hunter had already instructed DR to cover Three’s position. “Nazgul Five to Four, I’ll be stepping in as Nazgul Three for now, so I’ll be acting as your wingman. I got your six.”

“Thanks, Sir.”

“Alright. Everything looks to be okay for the moment, so here’s the game plan:…”

Will listened to Hunter’s orders without complaint. Well, not out loud anyway. Deep down, he thought it was stupid, worst idea ever, best recipe for disaster. Sending Flight three down there all by themselves. The squadron was already fairly short on personnel, and he’s going to split the group up even more, and not just in two, but in three. Flights one and two, now just one, is going to remain in orbit, while Nine and Ten fly cover, and Eleven and Twelve land. No contingency for anything at all. Plans like these are what make everyone die if just one thing goes wrong. If Eleven and Twelve were attacked, there’s no way for Nine and Ten to find a place to land without getting shot at and get to them in time; if Nine and Ten were attacked, there is no time for Eleven and Twelve to get airborne again without getting shot at too and get to the other pair. Not to mention half of the squadron that have been ordered to remain away from everything that’s happening, and everything that might happen, remain in orbit… bah. What’s Hunter thinking anyway? If anything goes wrong, there’s no way for them to get through the atmosphere and assist anyone in flight three. Is he expecting an attack from outside the planetary system? If that’s the case, does he expect to hold any attackers off with just one flight? Regardless how “elite” Nazgul might be, we’re not invincible. First mission as the SC, he’s already giving me reasons to doubt his leadership abilities. Maybe it was a bad idea recommending him for the position of SC of Nazgul after all. In Will’s opinion, the safest plan would’ve been to send in Eleven and Twelve, maybe even the entire flight three to land, and act as body guard to the Commodore, while the rest of the squadron flew cover in low atmosphere. Should anything happen, and the worst case scenario being flight three compromised and captured, they could still attempt a search and rescue mission. But now with flight three separated into two, a rescue mission would be nearly impossible if things don’t go as planned, which they never do.

Roughly ten minutes after flight three entered atmosphere, things started going wrong. In less than two minutes, both Eleven and Twelve’s signals were lost, then Ten went down as well, then Nine, even though he had managed to take a few bogies before becoming a stain in the ground. Upon entering lower atmosphere, Will checked his scanners, and his insides sank a bit. It was a lost cause. There were dozens of unknown fighters already adjusting their approach to engage this newly entered flight of TIEs. The rest of Flight three was already nowhere to be seen, if ever again. There was a good amount of smoking wreckage on a small clearing next to the giant building that Will took to be the processing plant. He guessed that was where Eleven and Twelve had landed, but were somehow destroyed after they landed. Their bodies were obviously nowhere in sight. If they landed, then there’s a good chance whoever attacked them had taken them hostage before blowing up the ships, rather than blowing them up with the pilots still inside. After all, a Commodore is worth quite a ransom, in any military. There were also a couple smaller wreckages, which Will guessed to be where Nine and Ten had crashed landed. As long as they were not shot straight out of the sky, there’s still hope. But rescuing them as well as the Commodore, as the same time saving ourselves, is a long shot at best.

But the depressing thought was short lived. Will sensed a tap of fear and panic in the corner of his mind. Some welcome back from retirement gift. Hunter had already broken away from formation, with Rocket close on his heels, visibly having a hard time trying to keep up with his more experienced SC. And from the comm silence, he guessed there was no communication going on between the two at all. Mistake number two. The last Will saw of them, they were headed way up into the upper atmosphere, with no less than half a dozen enemy fighters on their tails.

“DR, evasive maneuvers. We gotta get out of this somehow.”

“I know! But where to?”

“Well..” Will thought for a second. There’s gotta be at least three squadrons of fighters up here, bad odds on the best of days. Flight three’s already “on the ground” dead or otherwise. But there’s still a chance Shaz and Arty are still alive, although probably captured. So in order to get to them, we gotta get on the ground too. One way or another. “Alright, listen up, we have to land. The odds are too great against us in the air, we’ll be blown to dust soon up here. Help me find a good landing spot.”

“Are you kidding me? Land with this much enemy fire going around us? We’ll get shot to pieces in the process.” Bolts flew past from behind as the message came through the comm, as if mocking Will’s thought process.

“Well, just hug then ground for now then.” Will said as he pushed the fighter into a steep dive, pulling even no more than ten meters off the ground, DR not far behind him, five bogies not far behind DR. This is bad, this is bad, this is bad. “DR, we need more time to figure this out. On my count, engage your repulsors, but maintain your velocity. With luck, the force will push up some dust for some brief cover for our asses in this forsaken land. On three, one, two, three.” On the count, Will flipped on his repulsors, he felt his fighter become slightly lighter. Tipping the yoke forward just a bit, the fighter went into a slight dive, lowering into its previous position. The inability to push the fighter away from the surface forced the affects into the loose ground, kicking up a storm of dust in their wake. But it wasn’t as great a plan as Will had hoped. Immediately a beeping noise started to sound, and a number of lights started flashing, the power generators were overheating, and numerous other functions were beginning to fail due to the heat and energy failure.

“Alright, bad idea.” Will acknowledged his failure to come up with a viable solution for their current situation.

Off in the distance, the dunes of the wasteland seemed unending. But upon closer inspection, he noticed that a number of rises were unlike the immediate surrounding ones. They were taller, sides were more steep, unnatural. Then few objects on the mound gleamed as they reflected the sunlight in his direction. Things are finally looking up. it was a junk yard. Probably where they dumped useless material or unprocessed materials as they were shipped in. With the closing of other processing plants in the galaxy, things are bound to get backed up with everything coming into one place now.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing, DR?”

“What? A junkyard? What so great about that? If we don’t come up with something soon, guess what we’re about to become? That!”

“Exactly. That is exactly what we’re going to become. Find a good stretch for a hard landing, and try your best to blend in after you get out of your pod.”

“Alri…” DR’s reply was cut short as there was a small explosion. Then, “I’m hit!” Luck had finally caught up with the pair. They were so close to getting out alive, yet so far.

As soon as Will cleared the wasteland, into the general area of the yard, he killed his engine, and dropped to the ground. It wasn’t as fun as he remembered it to be. Well, in some respect. Large pieces of metal slammed into the front of his fighter, cracking the viewport panes, then smashing them into shards. He would’ve been blinded if it wasn’t for the helmet. Guess these things do their jobs after all. more pieces continued to impact the ship and bounce in a different direction from impact as the ship skid across the ground. The two side solar panels had long snapped off, it was just he and his pod now. A utility droid formed itself on the edge of Will’s vision. As will approached, it just stood there, in the middle of a road, as if a pedestrian was caught j-walking, but frozen in fright at the sight of a bus coming right at it. Slamming on the reverse thrusters, not knowing nothing functioned anymore, Will willed the pod to stop skidding. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t see the droid as another piece of junk. Who knows, an alarm might go off somewhere if that particular piece of metal became inoperable. Will pulled the yoke in one direction, then the other, willing the pod to at least turn, he even leaned his body into the turn. The pod was finally slowing down, but it was a bit late, not too late, just a bit. A slight thud just before coming to stop.

Will wanted to remain in that position, just sit there, for a while. His body was aching all over, no doubt from the constant jarring of the body as the pot skid, skipped, bounced, slid over the rough ground of the junkyard. The strenuous exertion in will power to turn and stop the pod also took a part; his head hurt as if he got hit in the head. But then, he did get hit in the head. Looking around, Will noted that overall, he was still fairly intact. No swirling visions with black borders closing in toward the center as if he had circular eyelids that closed from all sides; no broken bones except perhaps a cracked rib from a stubborn piece of unwelcomed object that flew into the cabin after the plasteel viewport gave away; no joints popped out of their sockets from the all too common jarrings and intense pressure exerted on the yoke after touchdown; and, thankfully, no profuse leakage of red bodily fluids, although the flight suit had been ripped at places from shards of the shattered viewport.

Unstrapping himself from the seat, will opened the hatch. At least the stupid thing is still facing up. Could’ve swear I flipped over at one point. But it was stuck. And the manual override had somehow been damaged in the little endeavor. Will looked over at the now open viewport. Well, not the purpose it was built for, and definitely not the way I prefer to exit my craft… But I guess I don’t have a choice. With the panes gone, the viewport was nothing more than a metal net, and surprisingly, had held together after the continuous bombardment from pieces of debris. However, they have been hammered into now bending toward the inside, and cracking at a number of joints. A few bars were also missing, probably from some direct hits.

The yard was strangely quiet, except from the constant scream of fighters as they passed overhead. At least they’re not shooting at me or anything in the vicinity. Probably think I’m dead. Well, I hope they remain thinking like that. Good thing this place around, with all this debris around they probably won’t even be able to spot this piece of junk. Good news for me.

“Help.” The sudden sound caused an instinctual reaction of his head turning toward the sound. What he saw caused him to drop his hold on the bar of the viewport that he was using to pull himself out of the pod. A head, lying on its side, facing him, dented on one side. Sith spit. Will thought. “Help.” It said again.

Will pushed and pulled against the hull of the pod. After finally escaping from its hold, he went around to examine his immediate surroundings. The talking head was just a droid head. And it belonged to the droid that he so feverishly attempted to avoid hitting earlier. And the rest of it body remained standing not five feet in the direction the pod had came, stuck. In the place where its head should be was the pylon that used to hold the port solar panel. Well, so we know what that last thud was. And I probably shouldn’t just leave him like this, certainly not his body. It being stuck there is a dead giveaway that it wasn’t there before, and probably shouldn’t be there.

Picking up the head, Will walked over to where the body is, and tried to pull it out from under the pylon, unsuccessfully. “Ow, that hurt.” The head that now lay next to its body on the ground said.

“Shut up. I’m trying to help you.” Will said with annoyance, even though technically it was his fault. But he kicked the head anyway, lightly.

“Violence is not going to help.” The droid said as if it possessed wisdom.

“Tell that to those bastards that shot at me.” Will replied, and then had a second thought. It’s worth a try. And he kicked the droid, twice, behind each knee. The body caved slightly at the sudden loss of ability to hold itself up efficiently. “Yeah, violence never solves anything.” Will said sarcastically, after kicking the droid again, further lowering it, and then pushed the droid from under the pylon. “Okay, let’s go buddy. Can you walk?”

“Negative. With my head no longer attached to the body, my body no longer has a sense of direction, thus it will not be able to move in the correct direction.”

“That’s too bad.” Will said, he placed the head on top of the body where it belonged, and then shot the droid with a stun blast. The droid twitched a few times then fell to the floor. “Sorry bud. I like you, but can’t have you going around and get discovered and reveal my position. Hope we can still be friends someday.”

Will grabbed his E-11 from under the seat, thankfully still undamaged, and moved on. His first priority was to find DR. It was his wingman, his responsibility.

The junkyard turned out to be quite busy. Power droids, protocol droids, pit droids moved about their everyday preprogrammed duties, few paid him any mind. The damage Will had done is his little trip down was actually more apparent than he first realized. The ground looked no different than if a meteor, an object from beyond the planetary system, crashed into the ground, creating a streak in the ground, marking the object’s path as it hit the ground, pushing aside everything in its path before it finally came to rest. The only discernable difference was that this path was far from a straight one a normal meteor would have created.

Some places must’ve had more objects in the path, and thus caused the pod to turn slightly before they were pushed out of the way and the pod was allowed to continue in its new path. Farther down the “landing strip,” one of the solar panels stood straight up in the air, one end stuck in the ground. These pointed ends make perfect grappling hooks. I’ll remember that. The other panel, or what Will assumed to be the other panel, lay farther back, not far from where Will guessed where he first touched down. The panel had been bent almost ninety degrees before snapping apart from the body of the fighter.

Will turned around, no sign of any other craft that crashed in the vicinity, not smoke either, which is both a good sign and a bad sign. The bad thing being it will take a while for him for find, if ever; the good thing being nothing exploded or was burning, so there’s a higher likely hood that DR was still alive. My best bet would be to attempt to trace his steps and see if I can see where he crashed from the edge of the junkyard.

Sure enough, walking along the fence that surrounded the yard landed Will at an area where roughly twenty yards of the fence were missing from their place, and a slight gouge in the ground staring Will in the face, saying, “this is where he landed.” Following the wide mark on the face of the ground, Will walked back into the yard. But not far into the area, a giant mound of scrap covered the ground. More accurately, the mark ended abruptly. The fighter was nowhere in sight.

“DR, do you copy?” Will said into his personal comm. No reply.

There are only two places for the fighter to end up at. One, inside the pile, which is highly unlikely, it’s not easy for a craft to crash into a pile of near solid metal. Or, the pile served as a ramp, and projected the craft over to the other side or somehow landed on the side of the pile. Which was exactly where Will expected it to be, on the opposite side. Except, no sign of DR.

OOC:

WC: 3628. I talked to Drac before hand, we agreed it's better to make him unfound for now, until he comes back and will be able to participate.

Shazam felt the pain first, but within seconds was also accutely aware of the fact that the wind had been knocked out of him.  Rolling to face the duracrete, he crouched and tried to breath-in with no success.  Feeling the panic set in, a glint of orange light caught his eye and made him turn his head.  Suddenly, the air entered his lungs and the world became sharper; as relief flooded through him, he surveyed the damage.  The ships were twisted and wrecked at the end of the landing platform and a fire was blazing around the end of the platform; he spotted Arturo only meters from the flames.  Ignoring the groans that he was now hearing from the delegates, he managed to stand, albeit with difficulty, and hobble over to Arturo.  As he did so, he heard the flop and then hiss of exhaust from the rockets now pouring skyward.  Again, he couldn't see the rocketeers themselves, but it was evident that they were being launched from the ground; the rockets sprawled like fingers toward the heavens, and Shazam couldn't help but feel sorry for his comrades: the element of surprise was a powerful one...  He didn't have time to wait around though- We gotta get outta here...  Standing over Arturo, he shouted: "Arturo!  Are you alright?"  Shazam realized now the blood that was soaking the pilots flight jacket.  He needs a medic, he thought as he began pulling Arturo along.  As he looked up to find his way back to the staircase, he noticed Creel jogging over.

"Quickly!  We need to get inside!"  He looked exasperated, and his robes were now slightly grubbier with the oils from the landing pad; his hair was tuffed to the side and he was breathing heavily. 

"No...  The building might be a target too- we're probably not safe here..." Shazam heard himself saying.  He wanted to run up that stairs, though, so he didn't know why he'd just said what he said.  They could take the lift down to the lobby, he imagined- maybe there'd be some medics...

"AHH!" He heard someone yell as the doors at the top of the staircase evaporated into a fireball.  Shazam picked up his pace, though he couldn't see any of the rocketeers yet.  A spiral of smoke formed above the burning structure at the top of the stairs as Shazam began to look for different options.  We gotta get to the ground...  Climb?  His thoughts raced.  Then, as he reached the edge of the landing platform, Arturo still dragging slightly behind him, he spotted the platform of another building, this one much lower.  It's too far... He thought at first, but then bolts from blasters began to appear everywhere, and Shazam knew there was no time.  Dropping Arturo, he gave himself a slight birth from the edge, and without explanation, ran with everything he could muster and propelled himself off the side of the roof.  As he suddenly became airborne, Shazam continued to pedal through the air, hoping that it would propel him further.  Sailing perilously through the air, Shazam's concious mind was awakened by the sound of another explosion in the distance, and he couldn't help but think that he might not make it out of this one. 

Then, he began to fall quickly, and the sides of buildings on his left and right rushed past as he searched for the surface of the landing platform.  Spotting the platform some five feet directly in front of him, but only two feet below him, he realized that he still hadn't cleared the distance to land solidly with his feet.,.  This is ganna hurt.  The edge of the platform went from under him, then to his waist, and finally to his head before he finally reached out with both hands, clamping suddenly on the edge of a narrow window pane.  The timing was perfect, so he didn't break his hands, but rather, his arms extended and stretched as his body weight tried to fling him toward the ground.  But he managed to grip the narrow windowpane without releasing.  He became aware that his body has also struck the side of the building when he'd hit as well...  There was no telling how much damage he'd just done to himself.  His body in shock, Shazam began to pull himself, somehow, from the side of the building, over the glass barricade, and finally onto the duracrete platform below.  As he touched the ground, he wanted to lay there and die, the pain coming with every breath.  Instead, however, he began to crawl toward the speeder only a meter away. 

Behind him, new screams told him that the danger was anything but gone, and his co-pilot and diplomats were in a precarious position.  Stopping for a moment, he tried to turn and glance back, but could only see where some of the blaster bolts were raining down from.  Slipping his hand into his own jacket, he felt for the butt of one of his duel pistols.  Gripping it, he lifted it meagerly; his vision blurry, he fired quickly into the smoke, hoping that his bolts would atleast serve as a detriment to their assailants. Instead, a bolt sizzled past his head and scorched the ground nearby.  With new motivation, he rolled, unbearably, and then pushed himself to crawl behind the speeder.  Oh my gosh... he thought as his vision became blurrier than ever.  He wasn't sure he could make it...  If only he could get into the speeder, then maybe...

OOC:

Lol.

Rocket hears the alarm go off in the cockpit and starts the procedures to go out off hyperspace he makes sure that the shields are working, and does another systems check just in case he missed something that would impair him from fighting at his full potential. After that he brings up the scanners on the screen to see if anything is going on. That’s a first no enemy no other ships around they were right when they said that this planet is just a dump, well time to get into the swing of things again. After that thought went though Rocket head he heard herd the comm’s go off.

Hunter’s voice crackled through the com when the squadron reached stationary orbit over Sarek’s capitol city, Luqacoo. “Alright.  Everything looks to be okay for the moment, so here’s the gameplan:  One and Two Flights, stay up in high orbit with me.  We’ll keep an eye out for whatever comes into the system.  Nine, take Three Flight and escort twelve down to the surface do he can do his thing.  Eleven will land with him and make sure everything is okay before we let Twelve go in by himself.  Nine and Ten will fly Combat Air Patrol while Twelve and Eleven land, then the rest of Three Flight will get back up here, pronto.  Questions?  Good.  Lead out.”

With that Rocket took his usual place as the SC wingmate, and begins the process to get into position in high orbit. Once in high orbit Rocket takes a look around the sky to see if he notices anything usual, upon taking a look he notices a small projectile heading towards the squadron. Rocket hits his com to open to all of the squadron and says “We got incoming evasive action.” 

With that being said Rocket starts to dive to avoid being hit by the now many rockets that have appeared out of nowhere. Rocket looks at his sensor screen to see what is going on and finds that the sky has gotten pretty busy with squadrons from the planet getting into the fry also. What the hell is going on here command didn’t say that they had this kind of firepower or that they had any at all. Okay get it together how many squadrons are their three is what my sensor says there is probably more out there first things first need to get to the ground because that’s what everyone will probably do. With that thought Rocket speeds up his dive and heads towards the desert at full speed dodging enemy fire along the way.

He quickly puts the avenger level to the ground continuing to dodge all of the fire that he can, but was not able to dodge all of it that came at him, as he look to see what the damage is he hears the alarm that his engines have been hit and that they have shut off because of the damage and notices that the thrusters are still working.

Well at least this isn’t my first crash that I have been in, need to get to the ground though before I can’t. Rocket puts the forward thrusters to full to slow down his speed to try to attempt to land and gets to half speed when his missile alarm goes off saying that there is a missile following him. Well I kind of hopped that this would not happen screw it if I can crash now the missile might overshot me and keep going if I am lucky. Rocket dives the last hundred feet into the ground he prepares himself for the crash.


---Unknown Time Later---

Rocket wakes up to find that he is still in one piece and that the Tie is trashed. Rocket unbuckles his belt and tries to open the exit hatch and finds that it is still working; he grabs all of his gun and his backpack with all of his emergency items in it. Well let’s see where I am at.

He climbs out of the Tie and finds that he is in a desert and that he can see structures that could be a city way off in the distance. He also sees the crash had caused. I got to get out of here before someone decides to check this area out, let’s just hope that that self detonation still works cause the sand storm will cover the tracks up all I have to do is get rid of the tie.

Rocket goes to the side of his fighter and looks for the button that would activate the detention sequence so that he can blow it up using his comlink. To his disappointment he finds out that there is not enough power to set the self detonation. This is not good it’s gonna be hard to not get them to not know where I am, well on to plan B. So Rocket pulls out his comlink that is in his backpack and turns it to Nazgul channel and listens to see if there is anybody talking on it, after a few moments he puts it on his belt and starts to walk to the buildings way off in the distance.

OOC:

Sorry this took so long to get up been busy with stuff anyway I am about in the middle of the desert is where I crashed. 872 words

The RTT made quick and easy maneuvering over the dunes and Ruwe found himself at his little shelter within no time. Pulling up as close as he could without completely knocking it over he set the engines to hover. Ruwe wasn’t worried much about anyone seeing them, seeing as his shelter was well below the tops of the dunes. He was however in a slight rush though. A small stream of smoke in the desert was starting to become visible as he made his way closer to the town. Could very well be another from Nazgul. If so we have got to get them out of here as quickly as possible. Nazgul never did so well when we were left to our own devices. Ruwe chuckled slightly at the thought, as he hopped out of the RTT.

He made his way quickly over to his shelter. Pulling aside the flap he walked into what had been his home for the last two months. Sure ain’t going to miss this place. Letting his eyes adjust he made a quick list in his head of what was necessary and what could stay behind on this planet. As soon as his eyes adjusted he grabbed the most important items. His Ryyk Ceremonial blade from a shelf still in it’s sheath; his Ryyk Kerarthorr blades on their own separate hooks; his standard issue DL-44; and his flight suit which he had with him everywhere he went. Equipping all three blades in places where they were easy to grab and use, he also shouldered his rucksack again with his pistol and flight suit now in it as well.

Scanning once more for anything else he might need, he gave himself a quick nod of confirmation and headed back out to the RTT. The ramp still was open for him to quickly hop in and get moving. He was no more than just inside the doorway and Hunter powered the transport forward towards the smoke in the distance. Hitting the button, Ruwe heard the ramp hiss shut and make a nice click sound as it locked in place. Dropping his rucksack behind his chair he sat down at the controls.

No more than just getting seated, and Hunter was down to business. “We’re heading towards the smoke right now. ETA is ten minutes. I assume you know these dunes a lot better than I do, so I’m asking you. What’s our plan of attack?”

Ruwe thought for a minute. He’s actually asking someone else for a change. Maybe he’s been through enough finally to understand you don’t know everything. “[Well the dunes over there are quite a lot bigger. I don’t see anything at the top of a dune so I would have to assume it’s at the bottom. Now if the pilot is alive which most likely is the case, I would also have to assume they’ll head for the processing plant. So here’s what I think we should do.]” Ruwe paused for a quick second in case Hunter wanted to say something. When he said nothing Ruwe continued.

“[When we get about a click away we stop and scan the area. By then we should at least have a visual on the crash site. Whatever it may be. Then if no visual on the pilot we head four clicks north and get in the most likely path and wait for the pilot to come to us. Like I said I can only assume they’ll head for the processing plant as it is the most visual object amongst these dunes. If the pilot is friendly we pick them up and head on towards the plant. If hostile we detain them and bring with us to see if we can get any info out of them.]”

“Sounds good enough to me. One more thing though. Just so you know, just because I asked for your insight this time doesn’t mean anything at all. I will still be your superior and I still call the shots.” Hunter gave him a slight grin, but his eyes left no question at all that he was in charge and would brook no questions about it.

“[I am well aware Hunter. Now let’s just hurry up and get off this rock.]”

- - -Twenty Minutes Later- - -

Ruwe lowered the binoculars that he had. They were a small set. So small actually he had problems using them. To a human they would have been normal sized but to him they were super tiny. They had already been to the crash site to find it abandoned like Ruwe had said it would. There was only but a few foot prints leading away from the crashed TIE fighter before wind had whipped up sand and covered the rest. Also like he had said, the few foot prints there were lead toward the processing plant. From what Ruwe had judged, the pilot had been gone only within the hour from the craft.

Ruwe sighed as he looked out over the dunes. They had went straight towards the plant hoping to find the pilot. According to Hunter he said it was probably Rocket. Ruwe didn’t remember much about him from when he was in Nazgul but knew of him all the same. At one point Ruwe had thought he might’ve seen him but it turned out to be only an animal judging by the tracks it had left. After their slight detour they had rushed out four clicks further north toward the plant in hopes to be in front of the pilot.

Raising the binoculars again he did another sweep over the dunes. Starting from his three o’clock he panned over left very slowly so he wouldn’t miss anything that should happen to crest over a dune. At about his eleven o’clock he found what they had been searching for. The pilot was running up and over the dune as fast as he could. He probably has seen us as well. He might try and ambush us and take us by surprise. Looking down the dune at Hunter at the bottom he shouted, “[Eh Hunter. Does your comm still send on Nazgul frequencies? I think I found Rocket but I don’t know if he knows who we are.]”

“No it doesn’t. The damn thing broke when I crashed. It’s only sending on local frequencies. How close is he and how did he look?”

Damnit that’s going to make the reunion a little bit more hectic then it needs to be. Jogging down to the bottom he stood in front of Hunter who was sitting on the ramp. “[ETA is five minutes. He looks in good shape, seeing how he was running over the dune so he would be out of eyesight as quickly as possible. I think we should get you on top of this craft here so that he can clearly see who we are.]”

It looked like Hunter was going to protest with some pretty harsh words, but then visibly shook himself and just nodded in acceptance. “I’m going to need a bit of help though you great big hairball. With this bummed leg there’s no way I’m climbing up on top without help.”

“[Yeah I know Hunter. Here I’ll climb on top and then pull you up.]” Following his own words he hopped on top of the RTT and pulled Hunter up with ease. “[Now I suspect he’s going to come in with guns blazing if he’s anything like what Nazgul is known for.]”

Hunter raised an eyebrow at that. “Ruwe you have no idea just how accurate you are about that statement. When we get out of here I’ll explain what happened before we got here. But let’s focus on what we’re here for first. Rocket will probably not recognize you at first so I want you to lay down on top of this with your hands behind your head. That way he’ll see me and might not be as inclined to shoot.” Hunter chuckled slightly at the thought of being shot at.

Sometimes I truly wonder how he likes being shot at. Laying down on the top of the craft he put his hands behind his head. He no more had got comfortable and they were being hailed from the top of the nearest dune that had the sun behind it.

“Petty Officer Second Class Rocket of the Vast Empire. Don’t move, as you will be shot and taken under custody of the Vast Empire and detained as a Galactic War Criminal.” Little bit overboard there Rocket but I suppose it does get your point across at least. Ruwe tilted his head slightly to watch as Rocket started his way down the dune towards Hunter and himself. He had a blaster pointed quite levelly at Hunter in particular, seeing as how he wasn’t laying down with his hands on his head.

Hunter cleared his throat before he spoke. “Warrant Officer Second Class Hunter-Morrell of the Vast Empire. Stand down Rocket. It’s just me and an old friend. It’s about damn time you got here though. We’ve been waiting a good five minutes here for you.” Hunter smiled and chuckled at his own small joke. Ruwe himself chuckled a bit himself at the small comment. Sitting up he looked at the pilot still coming down the hill. His blaster was no longer raised at shoulder height but it was still pointed in their general direction. It wasn’t until he clearly recognized Hunter’s face that he fully lowered the pistol to his side.

“Thank the Force it’s you and not some of these upstart Sarekians. Whose the Wookiee?”

“[I am Senior Crewman Ruwacca of the Vast Empire. You probably don’t remember me as I was only with Nazgul for a short time. Anyways we’ll have more time later to share stories and what not.]” Ruwe nodded to Rocket before he looked at Hunter. “[Hunter? What’s our plan of action?]”

Rocket looked a bit taken aback as he registered who Ruwe was. Hunter gave him a small look before continuing on with their next plan of action. “What we need to do is get to that plant first. I’m not one hundred percent sure but I think I saw two TIE’s crash land over in that general direction as well. What we need to do is regroup with them and get as many of Nazgul back together as we can. From there we can figure out what we can do.”Ruwe and Rocket both nodded their heads in confirmation. “So? What are you two waiting for? Get in the transport already and let’s get out of here!”

Helping Hunter down they climbed into the RTT and set off for the processing plant just a few more clicks north. Not much was said as they all knew that things were definitely not going the way they should. Things haven’t even started to get screwy yet.

OOC:

1829...another new PB lol.