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ComNet > Imperial Navy > Archived Naval Story Board > VEN:Into the Invisible
 
 
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Topic:  VEN:Into the Invisible
Drac
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Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] 2nd Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  1188
Total Posts:  2191
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 10, 2011 10:20:59 PM    View the profile of Drac 
“Are those fracking attitude controls back up yet?” Drac’s irritation rang out in his voice, underscoring the intensity of the battle.

Petty Officer Marril leaned closer to his display, “Almost there, sir…almost…got it! We’re able to maneuver again, Captain.”

“Thank you, Mr. Marril,” Drac answered, relief in his tone. They’d been moments away from re-entering the battle when a power converter failed in the engines, knocking out the attitude controls. Without them the Cerulean would fly as straight as a laser just fine, but couldn’t turn. Re-seating himself  in his command chair, he looked through the viewport and spoke, “Mr. Groenveld, where are we?”

The dark skinned human double-checked his console, then turned back to the Mon Cal, “We’ve been drifting, Captain. As you know, due to our previous maneuvers and speed, we’ve been traveling away from our own fleet while facing them. We’re now behind the enemy forces and are being ignored for the most part. A couple of snubfighters checked us out, but left in search of more lively game.”

Drac nodded, “Good. It’s time we change their opinion of the dangers we represent, though. Sensors- do you show any weak points in the enemy formation? Weapons- what have we got?”

“Weapons here, sir. We still have all four concussion missiles prepped and ready to go. Both turbolasers operating at 95% or better of normal capacity.”

“Sensors here, Captain Mihawk.  I’m showing two opportunities: the first is a DP-20 Gunship currently dueling the Amaranth. The Amaranth appears to be having trouble, though. Intervening there could save her. The second is the Freelance, a Dauntless-class Heavy Cruiser. She’s been trading shots with the Dead Gun and the Daring. From what I’m reading, she’s just come about to protect her stern after they eliminated the rear shields. Also- the Pioneer has successfully made the jump. The Reps won’t get their free bacta today.”

“I see…light them up on the display for me.” Two red blips on the tactical map lit up, drawing Drac’s attention. The Mon Cal examined the Cerulean’s position relative to them, then smiled. Looking up, he found his bridge crew watching him with eager eyes. His earlier maneuver had won their trust and respect- now they were counting on something equally impressive. Well. It wouldn’t do to disappoint them, now would it?

The Chief Warrant Officer used a stylus  to trace a curved course from the Cerulean’s current position, past the stern of the Freelance, over to a point directly intersecting the DP-20. “Can you fly that course for me, Chief Pilot?” he said, looking up at the human.

Frett’s eyes widened as he examined the display, then he flashed a white smile, “No problem, sir.”

“Excellent,” Drac hit the ship’s intercom, “This is the Captain. I want everyone at full readiness- we’re going back into combat. Report damage and injuries as they come. If you’ve got a deity- pray to them now.” He flicked the intercom off again, examined the course a final time, and spoke a single word, “Go.”

-----

The Warden-class warship came up to speed quickly, driving in at the stern of the much larger Freelance. It went unnoticed for two crucial minutes as the enemy sensors officers focused on the main battle. Then a particularly attentive bridge officer on one of the remaining CR-90s noticed the out-of-place blip. He called it in to the Freelance, “Freelance, this is [i]Sorrow’s Way. I’m reading an Imp light cruiser about to engage you from behind and below. Please confirm.”

There was a pause lasting just a few moments, then a reply, “Sorrow’s Way, Freelance. Thanks for the heads up. We’ll deal with them.”

“Do you want us to divert some starfighter support?”

“Don’t bother. They’ve already got their hands full with the Squints coming out of those Star Destroyers. Besides, we read significant damage to the light cruiser. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Roger that. Sorrow’s Way out.”

-----

“ETA to missile targeting range?”

“[Tee minus twenty seconds, Captain Mihawk.]” Came the Rodian gunner’s reply.

“Excellent. Fire all remaining missiles in pairs as soon as you have a solid lock. Don’t waste your shots. I want the first pair into the portside engines and the second pair on their bridge.”

“[Aye, Captain. We will strike them down.]”

The Freelance began firing turbolasers almost the same moment the Cerulean shot off her concussion missiles. On the bridge of his ship, Drac began to call out orders, “Chief Pilot, evasive pattern, but get us on course for the DP-20 stat. Someone get me an update on our shields. Weapons- fire both turrets at the Freelance until she stops firing or the DP-20 comes into range, whichever comes first.”

The first pair of missiles flashed through space and detonated on the Freelance’s unprotected portside engines. Those engines went dark, safeties shutting them down before they could explode. Still, secondary explosions rippled down the belly of the warship and those aboard who weren’t killed by the initial blast were thrown from their feet.

Before the ship’s captain could implement a reaction, the second pair of concussion missiles neared their target. A veteran gunnery officer saw them coming in and managed an almost heroic feat- he shot down one of the missiles. The other concussion missile, though, shot out of the debris cloud created by its partner’s destruction and flew true on its course. It impacted at the base of the bridge tower, punching into the armor before detonating. Lines of fire crept up the sides of the tower as chain explosions ripped through it. Moments later it drifted free, a shattered hulk, leaving the rest of the ship behind. Escape pods began to jettison from the wreckage as atmosphere vented.

Again, though, the Cerulean did not come away unscathed. Turbolaser blasts angling in from the forward section of the Freelance struck her amidships and knocked out the rear shield. Drac lurched in his chair as the bridge shuddered and detonations rang through the hull. “Status?”

Someone coughed as smoke entered the bridge, then Tlig Marril replied, “Hull breach near the engines, sir. We’re getting multiple reports of injuries- and at least two dead. The escape pod took a hit too.” The Quarren turned to look back at Drac, “But that’s not the worst part.”

“Cut the poodoo and tell me,” Drac snapped, cradling the arm he’d twisted on his console.

The Quarren sighed, “A secondary blast effected other systems connected to the engines- the attitude controls are a lost cause and we can’t change the thrust level of the engines except to shut them down.”

Drac’s skin lightened visibly as he thought through the ramifications of the damage report, So we’re on a ballistic course on our last heading- which was straight at the DP-20 gunboat the Amaranth is engaging. Steadying himself so his voice remained even, he nodded, “Even so. Go ahead and shut the engines down, power diverted to shields and guns. Guns, concentrate fire on that DP-20 gunboat for as long as you can. We may be down, but we’re not out. We’re going to bail the Amaranth out if it takes everything we have.”

Everyone got back into position except for Crewman Karuma Romp, the second Weapons officer on duty. When the ship was struck by the Freelance she’d been standing up. Unbalanced by the shuddering deck, the female bothan had fallen and struck her head on the corner of her console. Unconscious, she was carried from the bridge by Crewman Weasse while Crewman Obena Grush, a male Gran, took her place at the console.

A minute later the two Gunners opened up, both turrets still firing at near-optimal levels of strength. The DP-20 was blindsided, its crew’s attention focused on the other Warden-class ship they faced. It took them a moment to return fire on Drac’s crippled craft. He requested status reports as the first few shots lit up the Cerulean’s  shields, “Get me some updates- shields and injuries?”

“Shields are holding, sir, at about 70% currently. Diverting power from thrust brought them up from 30%.”

Kora appeared through the hatch leading to the bridge turbolift, shoulders slumped with fatigue and stress, “Three more injuries, including Crewman Romp. Crewman Treece was doing damage control on the engines- he’s dead. Also…Senior Chief Orfloum was directing damage control down there. She sealed the section before it lost pressure. She saved the ship, or most of it, but died in doing so.”

Drac bowed his head for a moment, “Her sacrifice will be remembered.”

A stronger shudder ran through the ship, drawing the Mon Cal’s attention back to the situation at hand. He watched as the shield indicator around the DP-20 flickered and disappeared. The next sets of shots from the two Wardens impacted on the hull, bringing armor plating to a boil wherever they landed. “Excellent.” Looking over at his Chief Pilot, Drac continued, “Mister Groenveld. What’s our ETA?”

The human’s trademark smile was still cheerful, if all too grim, “Tee minus one minute, sir.”

Kora looked over, confusion evident on her face, “What? ETA to where?”

Offering a small smile, Drac nodded toward the enemy ship, “We’re stuck on a collision course with that DP-20.  I don’t know what they’re doing, but they haven’t moved out of the way. If they continue to do nothing, we’ll drive our nose into their port midships less than a minute from now.” Standing, he set his uninjured hand on her shoulder, “We’ll just have to trust to luck and hope we make it through.” Then he intentionally twisted his arm, swinging the smaller Mon Cal around, then pushed her down into his seat. Leaning over, he buckled the safety straps. When she began to protest, he interrupted, “No. If anyone survives, they’ll need your help more than they’ll need me.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be right here….ETA, Frett?”

Thirty seconds, sir.”

“Right.” He activated the intercom, “All crewmembers are to leave the front half of the ship immediately. Barricade yourselves inside the armory and galleys and strap yourself to something. Collision imminent. Repeat, collision imminent.” Turning it off, he looked back to his Chief Pilot, noting that behind the man he could still see the DP-20, hanging in place, Why don’t they move???. He watched as fires flared across the ship’s surface where laser bolts were cutting into it. Both of his ship’s turrets still fired, disregarding the imminent collision.

Mr. Groenveld started the countdown, “Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…Five…”

“Brace yourselves!”

“…Three…Two…One…”

-----

Those aboard the Amaranth could only watch in shock as the Cerulean smashed into the DP-20 at better than half of its top speed. An explosion instantly eclipsed the point where the two warships met, disguising the true damage being done. Then the DP-20 was swung around violently, a huge gash appearing at the point of impact. It seemed to stagger to the side as atmosphere explosively decompressed. Meanwhile, the Cerulean bounced away from its victim and began to slowly somersault backwards as it drifted. The front half of the light cruiser was a mangled mess of twisted and broken armor, wiring, and other debris. It was completely unrecognizable as the sharp, pointed bow that had graced the craft until a moment before.

-----

Muffled sounds. Vague shapes half seen in the murky green surroundings. A warm fluid surrounding him, caressing his skin. These were the first impressions Drac had. He had no clue how long he’d felt them before his scattered wits came together enough to realize one simple fact: he was still alive. At first all he felt was relief. Then worry intruded. What about my crew? He forced himself to clamp down on his alarm. There’s nothing I can do about that now. For one, it’s in the past. Secondly, I’m kind of in a bacta tank at the moment. He took a deep breath to calm himself, wincing as pain shot through his ribs. Then something tickled through his veins and all went black again.

Sometime later he awoke again, this time to a tugging. Looking up, the Mon Cal saw the fuzzy outline of a med tech pulling gently at the rebreather attached to his face. He kicked experimentally and rose to the surface. The tech, a female human, helped him out of the bacta tank and gently sprayed the excess bacta from his body before handing him a towel. Then she led him to a small sitting room and left, saying only, “Someone will be with you shortly, Lieutenant.”

Huh? Drac thought to himself. Does she have me confused with another patient? That hardly seems possible. Perhaps some mistake in the file in regard to my rank?

Before he could puzzle further on the subject, he heard a door open behind him. He started to rise when a familiar hand fell on his shoulder and a gruff voice interrupted him, “No need to stand, Drac. We’ve known each other long enough to not stand on ceremony.” Geordi Atrasin stepped around the Mon Cal, heading to the other side of the table before seating himself. The half-cyborg regarded the young Mon Cal silently.

Unsure what was happening, Drac ventured a question, “It’s good to see you, sir- but why do I rate a visit by the Chief of Naval Operations?” I wonder…

The Commodore nodded slowly, “Which first: Good news or Bad news?”

“Which one pertains to my crew?”

A grim smile was his first reply, “The same as ever, I see. Well. As you wish:

“Your crew is the bad news, I’m afraid. The good part is that your 1st Officer, a Comms mate, and a Gunner’s mate made it out without injury.” Drac grimaced. “On the other hand, two of your gunners, an engineer, a comms mate, two pilots, and your 2nd Officer are all dead. Data shows that about half died due to weapons damage and the other half died on impact with that DP-20. Everyone else is wounded, to varying degrees, but survived. By the same token, Cerulean was towed to a repair dock after the battle. She’ll be out of commission for a few weeks, but will be repaired- not, however, that her fate is your concern.”

Drac tried not to show his nervousness at that, “I apologize, sir. I know what I did was reckless…”

“Stop.” Mihawk snapped his mouth shut. “Your actions were aggressive, yes. That’s not to say they were bad. For a Warden-class light cruiser to score credit for killing a CR-90 and a Dauntless-class heavy cruiser, as well as ensuring the subsequent demise of a DP-20 at your sister ship’s hands,  is almost unprecedented.”

The human broke off for a moment, then spoke again, “You remember the incident with Line Captain Khaar.” It was more statement than question. “What do you think of his actions- what consequences should he face?”

Now Drac found himself hiding surprise and confusion. When he replied after a few moments, it was carefully, “I hadn’t thought on it, sir. It’s not my responsibility, nor my place.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Lieutenant.”

“Sir?”

“Due to Captain Khaar’s actions, the Vast Imperial Navy finds itself in need of a Chief of Naval Warfare. Due to the prowess you displayed, the Naval High Command has chosen you. Congratulations, 2nd Lieutenant Mihawk.” Numb, Drac returned his former SC’s salute. Then Driver continued, “You’re currently aboard your new command- the Victory Star Destroyer Dead Gun. You will also be responsible for the day to day operation and combat command of 2nd Fleet. When you’re ready, a new uniform is waiting in the next room. You’re expected on the bridge presently to conference with your Ship Captains and plan our next action. There is still vengeance to be extracted, Lieutenant. We’re counting on you to make a lot of it happen.” Then the Chief of Naval Operations stood, saluted once more, and left the room the way he entered it. Drac sat in his chair, silently staring ahead as his mind raced. Chief of Naval Warfare?....Sithspit.

OOC:
Word Count: 2664

Okay, gentlebeings. Here’s what’s on the agenda for 2nd Fleet: Over the next few weeks I’ll be putting together our next mission. In the meantime, primarily the next week and a half, everyone is to finish up their parts of the skirmish. I’d also like to see at least one ancillary skill mission out of each of you . Work on CD stories is also great. I’ll be handing out awards and promos for 2nd Fleet at the opening of our next mission, but everything you do leading up to that will count toward those awards/promos- so, by all means, impress me.

Remember: Slash’s in charge until I return from vacation (11th thru 20th), since C-4’s late in returning from Leave. Send your reports to Slasher, as well as to C-4 and myself.
CNW|2LT Drac|LCR Cerulean|TF: Resh|2Flt|VEN|VE
Chief of Naval Warfare
Captain of the LCR Cerulean
Blades
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Blades
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 11, 2011 12:59:43 AM    View the profile of Blades 
Econd moved forward towards the escape pod they were going to use to bring the prisoners to the planet surface.  The group pushed the NR troopers back from the breach point, and they stopped right in front of the escape pod that the VENI agents were going to jump in.  They held their location and the VENI agents were having a hard time to get them to move.

“We need to get to that escape pod, Corporal.” The leading agent said.

“We’re trying they are really dug in and they are getting reinforced from the starboard side.  We need more soldiers here to knock them back far enough for you to get in and leave without being seen, Sir.”  The Corporal responded.

“I’ll try to get some back up guys.” Econd said to his leading agent.

“Do it we need to get to that pod.” He told Econd.

Econd grabbed his blaster and made his way back to the starboard side where they were first stopped.  He was lucky that the NR agents have not been able to get past the soldiers so Stess was able to make it all the way there unhindered.  When he got to the hall he saw the NR soldiers were able to get past the location they were stopped just minutes after the agents left.  Holy crap how did they get to this location so fast, Econd thought.  Econd started to run down the hall when he ran into a group of soldiers heading for the starboard side.

“Wait I need you to come with me.”  Econd said.

“Who are you?”  The Sergeant asked.

“I’m Econd Stess with the VENI we need your assistants getting to the aft port-side escape pods.  We are moving the prisoners off this ship.”  Econd answered.

“We were ordered to hold off the other side and try to push them back, but there is another group up the hallway they are currently getting their equipment to help hold off this side of the ship so they are your best option.”  The Sergeant told Econd.

Econd moved up the hall towards the armory where he found the troopers that the last group told him about.

“So I hear you are the group that is to help defend this side of the ship.”  Econd said.

“Yes, we are to reinforce this side of the ship.  Why do you want to know?” the Gunnery Sergeant asked.

“I need your help to get us to the escape pods.” Econd responded.

“And who are you to request this?” the Gunnery Sergeant asked.

“As I told the other soldiers, I’m Econd Stess with the VENI.  We need your assistants getting to the aft port-side escape pods, because we are moving the prisoners off this ship.”  Econd answered.

“Ok guys we are going with Econd, guys.”  The Gunnery Sergeant said.

Econd turned around left the room, and led them down the hall to where the rest of Blades group was.  They took their places in the hall.  With the reinforcements Econd brought they were able to push the NR soldiers farther down the hall, but not far enough for the agents to board the pod and leave.

The blaster fire from the NR injured two of the VE soldiers but they quickly patched the wounds, and returned to fighting the NR boarding party.  For every NR soldier hit it seemed like they just replaced them and tried to push the VE back.  They were at a standstill right at the escape pods there was no way to cover their trail.

“We are going to have to risk it guys.”  One of the VENI agents said.

“Right we need to go we will take the risk.”  The leader said.

Everyone filed in with the prisoners going first.  When the pod was filled they launched, and landed on the planets surface.

OOC:
643 words
Trykon
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Trykon
 
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 12, 2011 11:57:53 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
Verdant spikes of energy lanced out from Wyl's wingtip canons and disappeared about a meter aft of the wildly jinking New Republic X-Wing, absorbed by the snubfighter's shields.  Undaunted, Trykon sent two more green bolts at the enemy craft.  And another two.  And two more.  Finally, the enemy's deflectors collapsed, and Wyl's fifth volley drove past the vanishing-point of its predecessors unhindered and found its mark: the X-Wing's engine assembly.  A series of tiny explosions flashed, and the rebel pilot ejected, his doomed craft breaking into pieces a heartbeat later.  That's six, Wyl thought to himself, as he banked his Interceptor around.  Who's not-so-lucky number seven?

But as he lined up for another pursuit course, the flight of Y-Wings framed in his viewport flickered in pseudo-motion, and vanished, followed moments later by the few surviving rebel capital ships: the New Republic fleet had escaped to hyperspace.  Suddenly, his tactical board was clear of active threats; there were rescue beacons and Imperial ships aplenty, but no remaining enemy signals.

"That's it," an excited but unidentified voice said over the fleet channel.  "We won!"  Wyl felt a wave of jubilation wash over him, and he spun his TIE through a victory roll.

"Well done, pilots, but there's still work to be done," another voice broke in, crackling with static.  "Daggerlip Squadron, and Boar-Wolf, you're flying CAP for recovery operations.  All other squadrons will return to their home ships immediately for debriefing."

Under his flight helmet, Wyl smiled, steering a course toward the Iron Duke.  Technically, the Interceptor he was flying was attached to the Devastator, and they'd probably want the starfighter back, but the control officer had said all "squadrons" should go to their homes, not all individual starfighters, and Wyl was more than happy to take the order literally, and report to the Duke as a member of Nightshrike.  What's the worst they could do to me? he thought gleefully.  I doubt they'll court-martial a brand-new ace!  Six kills, my first time out!  He snapped off another celebratory barrel roll.  Besides, if they really want this particular Interceptor on the Devastator, I'll fly it right back to them myself... after I tell DeepSix how many rebels I got!

He joined up with a group of three Interceptors bound for the Iron Duke, his anticipation building as he went through the routine of landing.  By the time his boots hit the Destroyer's deck and he got his helmet off, Wyl's facial muscles had started to ache, so unaccustomed were they to the broad smile he now wore.

Glancing around the chaotic hangar, Wyl saw a knot of eleven pilots gathered to one side, and he hurried off in that direction.  When he got a little closer, he recognized the voice of Seth "DeepSix" Qorbin, squadron leader of Nightshrike: "--ty nice flying, 'shrikes," the chief pilot was saying.  Wyl took another step, and waited for the man to finish.  "Report to the debrief room, and we'll see just how nice it really was.  And," he raised a gloved index finger, "whether we out-scored the Daggers, Cats, and Boars!"  Laughter and cheers, and the pilots dispersed, though a human female wearing the stripes of a Petty Officer 1st Class directed DeepSix's attention to Wyl before she turned to leave with the others.  The auburn-haired Squadron Commander turned and regarded Trykon with familiar amber eyes.  "Can I help you, Mister..."

"Trykon, Wyl Trykon, sir.  Senior Crewman."

The senior pilot's eyes flashed with sudden recognition.  "Oh, sure.  'Trick,' right?  I remember you from the Academy."

Trykon's smile got even bigger.  "Yessir.  I've been trying to put those lessons of yours to good use."

Qorbin raised an eyebrow and grinned.  "Well, good to hear, Crewman.  What can I do for you?"

"I've been assigned to the 82nd, sir.  I'm here to report in."

"Huh," Qorbin grunted.  "First I'm hearing of it."  Wyl's smile vanished.  "Let me check my datapad... I'm sorry, Trick, but I don't have any notification here of a transfer order with your name on it."

"But--I came all the way from Vectra..." Wyl started.  Then he remembered his own datapad.  "I have the orders here, sir."

DeepSix looked at Wyl's pad and frowned.  "Well, somebody fouled up, somewhere.  Deck Officer!"  One of the hangar coordinators jogged over.  "We have a pilot here with unconfirmed transfer orders."

The officer looked Wyl over.  "Name and rank?"

"Trykon, Wyl.  Senior Crewman."

The man consulted his own pad.  "According to the roster, you were supposed to report to the 82nd Squadron, but those orders have since been rescinded."

"Rescinded?" Trykon asked, his tone incredulous.

Qorbin put a reassuring hand on Wyl's shoulder.  "So if he's not with the 'shrikes anymore, where is he supposed to be?"

"New orders from command: Trykon, Wyl is slated for a Helmsman position on Atrus."

Suddenly, the lights of the hangar were too bright, and Wyl felt short of breath.  "Say that again, please," he whispered.

The man looked at him askance.  "You're going to the Atrus, pilot.  Are we done here, Qorbin?"

"Sure, Geffin.  Thanks for the help," DeepSix said.  The Deck Officer hurried off.  "You alright?" he asked Trykon.

"Sure.  Yes.  I just... Everytime I get used to the idea of one posting I seem to get transferred."

Qorbin smiled sympathetically.  "That's the Navy.  Sorry we didn't get to fly together, but you could do worse than bridge duty on the flagship."

"Yes sir," Wyl said.  "Thank you for saying so, sir.  I guess I'd better let you go to the debriefing."

Qorbin nodded, and they exchanged salutes.  "Good luck with capital ships, Mister Trykon."  He turned to leave.

"Oh, sir!  Technically, I was flying as a 'shrike out there today, and I managed to get six kills - you should count them towards the Nightshrike total for the inter-squad competition."

Qorbin's eyes crinkled at the edges in a smile.  "Okay, Crewman," he chuckled.  "If you insist."

"Thank you, sir."  Trykon snapped off another salute, and Qorbin reciprocated with an informal half-wave, and walked away.

"Well," Wyl muttered, "So much for my Starfighter Corps rotation."  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror-finish of the hangar's bulkhead: sweaty and bedraggled in his crinkled pilot's jumpsuit.  I need a shower, a uniform, and a seat on the next shuttle to the flagship, he thought to himself.  He looked across the deck: "Excuse me?  Deck Officer Geffin..." he called out.

OOC:
Word Count: 1,070
"Don't look for the difficulty in every opportunity; find the opportunity in every difficulty." -- Wyl Trykon

Imperial Network Star Wars Image

FM/PO2 Wyl "Trick" Trykon/A-2/S:82 Nightshrike/W:245 Scimitar/ISD Iron Duke/TF:A/1FL/SFC/VEN/VE/[SoA]/(=*AE*=)(=^TG^=)
FM/PO2 Wyl "Trick" Trykon/A-2/S:82 Nightshrike/W:245 Scimitar/ISD Iron Duke/TF:A/1FL/SFC/VEN/VE/[SoA]/(=*AE*=)(=^TG^=)

TO/PO2 Wyl Trykon/PLT Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE/[SoA]/(=*AE*=)(=^TG^=)
TO
/PO2 Wyl Trykon/PLT Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE/[SoA]/(=*AE*=)(=^TG^=)
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited March 13, 2011 12:03:35 AM)]
Atrasin
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Atrasin
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 13, 2011 9:10:42 PM    View the profile of Atrasin 
The stars were closer than usual.  They flickered, flared; nova’d and died mere kilometers from his viewport.  These stars, however, didn’t take planets or moons with them when they died, they took sentient beings.  The mini-stars were the remnants of the New Republic fleet that had attempted to hijack the Pioneer’s cargo of bacta.  They had failed miserably and paid a heavy price.  At least one Mon Cal cruiser, a Dauntless Class Heavy Cruiser, a CR-90, and a DP-20 had died.  The rest of the Bowlheads fleet had skedaddled as soon as it could; they knew the day was lost.  Geordi’s last target, a Nebulon-B was floating crippled off his starboard bow, boarding crews taking the ship, and its crew, into Vast Empire custody. 

At least that Reshie captain won’t be alone in the brig

He thought ever so briefly about the former Chief of Naval Warfare now cooling his heels in the Atrus’ brig.  He’d already volunteered to execute him, just like he’d taken out Catachan.  The wicked smile that crossed his face was noticed by Mallou, but was not enquired after…sometimes she didn’t want to know what went on in her commander’s mind.

“Status, Mallou.”

The Duke’s XO quickly and expertly handed over the summary of the ships damages.  Light to medium, not bad considering they’d jumped cold into a very, very hot theatre.  The Duke would be adding a kill to her wall, and hopefully once the analysis was finished a battle star as well.

“Very well. Hold here until I say otherwise. Have the hangar ready the Hawkbat; I’m going to see the Admiral.”

Mallou nodded silently and watched as the commodore made for the turbo lift.  She relayed the order to Kazack who’d been absent-mindedly picking padd shrapnel out of his no longer bleeding arm.  Her look spoke volumes on the appropriate time and place for that sort of thing.  The orders arrived well before Geordi did.

He strapped himself into his personal fighter and eased her out of the bay.  Debris and bits of former starships floated to and fro.  A battlefield after the battle is almost as dangerous as during the battle.  He did a fly-by of the wreckage of the Cerulean.  How anyone had survived he still couldn’t believe, but Drac had, and it would win him his spurs.  For a ship of that size, it was one of the singularly most impressive bits of combat he’d ever seen.  Drac was now skirting the boundaries of death in a bacta tank deep within the Iron Duke.  The Cerulean was under tow, awaiting transport by the Atrus…it might still be salvageable.

He juked and danced around the larger bits of Mon Cal Cruiser as he finally arrived at the Atrus.  He’d been cleared for the Admiral’s personal bay high on the bridge superstructure.  He lightly touched down and was on the flagship’s bridge in a matter of moments.  The Wookiee NCC stood pensively surveying the field.

“Commodore Atrasin reporting, sir.”

“[Oh, now you take my calls?]” He wurfed a small laugh at his Executive Officer’s petty insubordination.  He understood battle and wasn’t going to penalize the man…he’d gotten results.

“Well, I figured with all the Bowlheads gone, there was nothing to stop you from shooting at me.  Besides, I’m feeling generous today.”

Stormz chortled low, “[Walk with me.]”

The two senior officers strolled the catwalks of the bridge silently for a few moments.  The cacophony of battle had died, but now the chatter of repair, triage and resupply had come to life.

Finally, the Wookiee spoke, “[Thoughts?]”

“Flush the body out an airlock after I run my foil through his brainpan.”

Sighing audibly, “[Not that, his fate is sealed. I’m talking about our situation.  What now?]”

Geordi paused, turned to the viewports and sighed as well, “Not too bad for rookies.  Drac was phenomenal.  Slasher and Arthur did well.  On the whole, they acquitted themselves nicely.  Several times they looked like fighter jocks in the way they handled their ships, but they did very well indeed.”

“[You’re one to talk, I’ve never seen a Star Destroyer do a barrel roll, nor manage four full broadsides in a shade over five minutes.  Your commendation is already on file, as is Drac’s.  I’ve decided to make him Jaden’s replacement and give him the Dead Gun.  He should do nicely.  Thoughts on where we go from here],” he barked.

“Most of the Warden’s will require some heavy repair.  Atrus and I are good to go.  I’d put in for some replacements and a resupply ASAP and get back to finding out who did this.  Requesting permission to head back to Sedratis. “

“[Granted.  I’m sorry I pulled you here Driver, but you’re help was necessary.  Go, find out who managed to piggyback on ‘LIMEY’; take Rocketman with you, there’s not a lot he can do with just one CR-90.  I’m heading back to Abrae, this is no place for the NCC, I see that now.  Bacredi is going to brief me later as to what he and his merry band are up to.  C-4RX has command of the Chrome Fox and the remainder of Second Fleet until Drac is back on his fins.  The Dead Gun will tag along with the Fox until they can figure out what to do,]” his words trailed off as he watched the Cerulean being guided into one of the Atrus’ larger bays for transport back to the repair yards of headquarters. 

“Understood, I’ll let Drac know as soon as he’s out of sickbay, “he paused briefly, “You know we needed this.  We needed to get back on our feet and show, not only the Galaxy, but the rest of the VE that the Navy still MATTERED.”

Nodding slowly, “[I’d say we did and then some.  Our comrades are gone, but the Navy perseveres.  Get back to the Duke and finish your repairs.  We’ll be jumping within the hour.  Let me know when you’re ready to head back to Sedratis.]”

“Aye aye, sir.  Safe travels my friend.”

“[And you as well, Geordi.  I think we’ve just scratched the surface of what’s really going on, and something tells me as we get nearer to the truth…it will not be pretty.”

The cyborg nodded his salute, turned and was off the bridge and into his craft again in moments.  The return trip was quick and uneventful.  Once on board the Iron Duke again, he called Mallou to his office.

“How are repairs coming?”

From memory she quoted, “We should have all major repairs done within the next twelve hours and we should be battle ready within 24.”

“Excellent, we’re heading back to Sedratis, we have some loose ends to tie up, and I have a feeling that Moff Caerbellak is not going to be in a generous mood.”

Mallou nodded, truer words had never been spoken before.


OOC:
OK, kids the Duke is done. Excellent work to Kaz, Deep, and Trick (You will be missed).  We will have a couple of days of downtime while I figure out how exactly we’re going to handle the beloved Moff.  Stay tuned and rest up, the next ride will be even bumpier.
CNO|COMD Atrasin|ISD Iron Duke|TF:A|1Flt|VEN|VE [=A=][=^SA^=][=^ME^=][=*MA*=][=FOCE=][=*TG*=][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][MC1]{BWC}[NSR:1]{SAS}{SWC}(SOL)[LSM][VC:B][DSM]
Vacuus Ordo, Nex  -Without Order, Death
All a man can betray is his conscience. - Joseph Conrad
We few, we happy few. We band of brothers. - Henry V
May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't. - General George S. Patton Jr.
Kazack
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Kazack
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 14, 2011 12:27:11 AM    View the profile of Kazack 
Kazack sat silently in his chair, watching the drifting debris from the battle in Epsilon. The Duke had jumped their following the retreat of the Rebel Capital Ships from Rruliin. With the victories in both systems the VE had now turned it’s attention to the cleanup operations after the battle. Kazack barely noticed Commodore Atrasin talking to his XO. Kazack, for his part, began absent-mindedly picking shrapnel from his arm. Suddenly, the commodore left the bridge for the Atrus and the stare Mallou gave him spoke volumes about the dangers of picking shrapnel from his arm. Kazack instead turned and focused on his screen and relayed the order to the Atrus that they should expect the Commodore shortly. Then, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes gently. He imagined what they would do now. “Probably go back to Abrae for a while then go to Sedratis again” He murmured to himself. Suddenly Kazack opened his eyes to see Mallou beckoning him to a secluded corner of the bridge, away from prying eyes.


“You did well Crewman Talla” Captain Mallou said.
“I merely followed my orders and did my duty ma’am.” Kazack replied, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.
“You did so well that your promotion has come through, Congratulations Petty Officer Talla” Mallou replied saluting him.


Petty Officer, Kazack thought Wow. I must have done really well. Kazack thought as he retook his place at his station.


For the next hour, Kazack, at Mallou’s request, oversaw the repairing and resupplying the Duke as the VE ship’s moved from wrecked ship to wrecked ship, emergency beacon to emergency beacon, mopping up after the battle.. Kazack, for his part, gazed over the remmants of the battle. So much had happened in the past few days. Kazack had a moment, where he decided something pivotal.

This is where I’m meant to be. He told himself. Then, he yawned, stretched and headed for his quarters. The next fight would undoubtedly come. I’d best be ready. Kazack thought.

Quote:OOC: 340 words, Really short, But I wanted to get up a closing post
BO/PO2 Fremen Talla/ISD Iron Duke/Aurek/1st Flt/VEN/VE
Amacuse
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Amacuse
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 14, 2011 1:36:54 AM    View the profile of Amacuse 
Cayden woke up laying on an exam table.  The nurse next to him smiled and said "I've never seen a file that expliciably requests 'no bacta treatments for any wounds'.  You're lucky they still teach us the older methods in Med-school."

Cayden grinned and said "I cannot afford bacta treatments.  Never had any back home on Onderon.  Never had any while serving Onderon, or my new home of Bimmiel.  I refuse them because I want to be like the rest of my people on Bimmiel.  We have no bacta at all on the planet, so... naturally, I refuse bacta treatments here in Vast Imperial medical facilities.  Plus... the doctors on Asteriod 19 didn't set this leg right, so... consider this my way of getting it fixed."

"Wow... you are insane.  Your file says so, but I didn't believe it," she said, sitting down.

"Yeah, well... it's the insane ones that make incredibly courageous commanders... stupid pilots... and, well... people with a can-do attitude," he said, sitting himself up.  He grabbed her hand off of the console next to his bed and held it tightly.

The nurse blushed and said "You do know that the cameras can see us, right?"

"Nope... the video feed is recycled every fourty-seven minutes, to ensure it isn't tampered with.  The recycling process takes about two minutes, then the feed re-establishes itself in four.  That gives us six minutes before the security forces onboard the ship can see what we are doing."

"Yeah, well... I can see, Cayden, and... well, I'm worse than security forces.  I'm always in your head, Cayden.  Don't do anything you'll regret," Cayla said, watching from the table across from his bed.

Cayden glared at her, then reached up and kissed the nurse.  She fell onto his bed, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back feverishly.

The lock on the med-bay door disengaged, and the nurse sprang off of Cayden as a security officer entered, followed by a senior crewman.

"Senior Chief Petty Officer Cayden Tavers?" the senior crewman asked.

"Yes, crewman.  Can I help you?" he asked, blushing a bit.

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but I have orders for you from the Commander of the Second Fleet."

Cayden stared at him for a moment, then asked "Well?  What are they, Crewman?"

"Oh, right... 'Senior Chief Petty Officer Cayden Tavers, Squadron Commander of the 153rd Regents Squadron.  You, and your squadron, are to report from Victory II-class Star Destroyer Dead Gun to Imperial class-II Frigate Chrome Fox, effective immediately.  Signed, 2nd Lieutenant Dracule Mihawk, Commander of the Vast Imperial Second Fleet.'" the senior crewman said, handing the datapad to Cayden.

Cayden looked it over and said "Well... how fortunate that I am actually where I'm supposed to be.  Lucky me.  Crewman, have the comm officer on the bridge transmit these orders to the remainder of my squadron.  I want them here within the hour, debriefed, and in the pilot-readiness room by... 1745.  Is that understood, crewman?"

The crewman snapped to attention, saluted, and said "Yes sir!"

Cayden returned the salute and said "Very well, crewman.  Carry on."

The senior crewman left the med-bay, as well as the escort, the door closing promptly behind them.

"Well, nurse...?" Cayden started.

"Oh, right... my name... I'm Petty Officer 2nd Class Sarah Goldwater, Vast Empire Navy Medical Corps," Sarah said, smiling at Cayden.

"Alright Sarah... report to the readiness room by 1745 as well.  I'm going to talk to 2nd Lieutenant Drac and have you re-assigned as the squadron's resident field medic.  I have plans for this squadron, Sarah... big plans... and we'll be needing your services a lot in the future, of that I am sure of," he said, taking out his datapad.

He began filling out transfer papers when Sarah took it away from him and kissed him lightly on the mouth.  "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling.

Cayden smiled back, and continued filling out the forms as Sarah finished checking his vitals.  Once he finished filling out everything, he sent it to Drac, and began talking to Sarah about his life before joining the Vast Empire.

OOC:
WC: 687

Alright Regents, get onto the Chrome Fox on the double!  We have a briefing to take care of...

Oh, and Drac?  If I can get an okay on those transfer papers, that'd be awesome! 

For the record... not my last post here.  My next one will be.  PO2 Sarah Goldwater will be in the briefing, for the other record.  And for the last one... Cayden will be admitting he has a problem, and will start seeing a psychologist... the details of that will be detailed in my next post.

Well... here's to a very interesting future in Regents Squadron.  Cheers!
Senior Chief Petty Officer Cayden "Amacuse" Tavers

Squadron Commander of 153rd Vast Imp. Fighter Squadron Regents

SC/SCPO Amacuse/A-1/S:153 Regents/W:58 Javelin/ICF-II Chrome Fox/TF:R/2FL/SFC/VEN/VE (=AE=) (=*SAE*=) [MC:2] [LSM] [GCM]
Maroy
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Maroy
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 14, 2011 3:56:22 PM    View the profile of Maroy 
For some inexplicable reason, her ship's comm receiver and shields remained functional despite failures throughout the rest of the ship. She tried to call for help, but the transmitter was too severely damaged. Amacuse went flying by her, oblivious to her predicament. What he also failed to notice was the three X-Wings coming in from his right.

Unable to assist him, Maroy watched helplessly as her squadron commander's interceptor went spinning out of control. Dammit, that brings us down to only five fighters. Not good. Regent Two slipped in behind the three murderous rebel fighters and took them down with a single missile fire.

"[All Regents, Lead is out of commission. Form up on me.]"

If only there was something I could do...

The battle raged around her, with fighters taking a few shots at her and draining what was left of her shields. An enemy warship, which her sensors identified as the Freelance, took considerable damage from behind and lost her bridge completely. The Cerulean came speeding alongside it, heading towards the Amaranth.

Suddenly a huge explosion flared up. A simple scan revealed that the Ceruleanhad collided with one of the New Republic's DP-20s at cruising speed, wrecking both ships. A wave of Vast Empire bombers took out a second cruiser, leaving the Republic forces considerably smaller than when the battle began.

Quickly realizing the battle was lost, the remaining hostile ships formed up and went to hyperspace, leaving a huge field of debris and damaged Imperial ships.

Shuttles appeared, picking up EV pilots and salvageable wrecks. A shuttle moved in near her fighter and locked on with a tractor beam.

"Regent Three, this is Chrome Fox One. Do you read?"

She tried to reply, but her comm systems were still malfunctioning.

"Come in, Regent Three."

I can't, my comm's broken!

The shuttle set off to pick up more personnel, towing her fighter along.

Looks like I'm going to be stuck in here for a while...

-----

Maroy climbed out of her TIE, shooting an irritated glare at the shuttle pilot. So, this is the Chrome Fox... I guess I better get used to it.

She stumbled around the numerous, congruent corridors, had to ask at least a dozen crewmen for directions, and finally located the squadron's new barracks. She changed into a fresh uniform and plopped down on her bunk. I'm just going to rest for a few minutes...

Her datapad beeped, forcing her to shift out of her comfortable position and pick it up. The message contained the statuses of the squadron members.

--Regent Squadron Duty Roster--
1: Minor Injury
2: Fit for Duty
3: Fit for Duty
4: Away Without Leave
5: Fit for Duty
6: Minor Injury
7: Critical Injury
8: Killed in Action
9: Killed in Action
10: Critical Injury
11: Killed in Action
12: Missing in Action

Eight, Nine, and Eleven are dead. Amacuse, Six, Seven, and Ten are injured. Fear is still gone, and Twelve is missing... not sure what the means exactly. Doesn't look like the Regents will be seeing action for a while.

She set down the datapad and rolled over. We have a debriefing in a little while... don't get too comfor...

OOC:
501 Words
FM/PO1 Maroy/A-3/S:153 Rhegent's Reign/W:58 Javelin/ICF-II Chrome Fox/TF:R/2FL/SFC/VEN/VE (=*A*=) [GCM]

Imperial Network Star Wars Image
Romanflame
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 14, 2011 8:58:37 PM    View the profile of Romanflame 
The Amaranth kept hammering the DP-20, when they saw a shift in power as the Cerulean came into range of its lasers.  With both ships firing on it helped Levite some of the damage from the AmaranthWhy is the Cerulean still moving closer to the DP-20?  Arthur thought as he saw them get closer.

“Sir, the Cerulean is on a collusion course with the DP-20.”  Elither said.

“Lets hope the DP-20 sees that and moves out of the way.”  Arthur responded a slight hint of worry could have been heard in his voice.

A few seconds the whole bridge crew watched as the two ships smashed into each other.  The DP-20 was still operational if only slightly, but it didn’t seem like anyone on the Cerulean would still be alive unless their were a few escape pods that slipped by both his eye and the sensors.

“Blow that DP-20 into as many pieces as possible!” Arthur shouted with everyone hearing the anger in his voice.

“Yes Sir.” the whole crew quickly replied.

Green bolts battered the floating husk of the DP-20 until the whole ship was completely dead.  With no energy signals coming from the husk Arthur ordered the crew to stop firing not wanting the ship to blow up and take them with it.  The crew halted and waited for orders.  When Elither spoke up.

“Sir, all remaining NR ships just jumped to hyperspace.”

“Good we are going to wait here for farther orders.” Arthur said. “Ariyn you have control, when we get the message send it to my office.”

“Yes Sir , I will.” she said as he left the bridge and went down to his office.

Five minutes later he was told to report to one of the repair yards.  Arthur sent the orders to he bridge, and left to find out what kind of damage the took.  His first stop was the medical bay.  He was only able to take one step in before he realized how many people were hurt and killed under his command.  They are all here because I decided to go against the DP-20 alone.  How could anyone in the high command think that a fighter jockey could handle a capital ship in battle.

He turned and left and went to the engineering bay.  The door opened and he saw how hectic it was in there and realized that they were probably the only reason they are still here.  Arthur decided he did not want to continue his trip and went to his quarters.  He made it inside when he felt the ship jump to hyperspace.

Thrity Minutes later.

They dropped out of hyperspace in the repair station system and flew into one of the docking ports After all the repair requests, and the second gunner console was sent.  When they docked he gave everyone leave until the ship was repaired which would be about four days.  He gave his first half the first two days and the second half the last two.  The Gunner was able to get all four off because Arthur really had no doubt in his mind that he would be needed here.

OOC:
526 words
SCAP/WO1 Arthur 'Romanflame' Dragon/LCR Amaranth/TF:Resh/2nd FLT/VEN/VE
[MC2] [MC:1] [CBV][SoL][CO][IG]
Slasher
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Slasher
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 15, 2011 11:21:32 AM    View the profile of Slasher 
Slasher turns back to face the main viewport and begins to issue orders.

“Helm, plot us a course to intercept the DP-20 Jocasta which has been designated in purple on the sensor display,”

“Aye Captain,” responds Helin,

“Take us out, one third sublight capability until I order otherwise.”

“Aye Captain,”

“Chimo, what is the status of our little surprise for the Jocasta?”

“Chief Engineer Fams reports that he is almost done, the droids have been successfully programmed, and they are currently moving the remaining missiles from the racks to the airlock as we speak.”

“Very good, have them inform me when preparations are complete. Sensors, range to the Jocasta?”

“Range is currently 1000 klicks and closing,”

“Time to firing range?”

“5 seconds for them, 20 for us.”

“Helm, best speed, bring us in as close as possible. Gunners may fire when we are in range.”

“Aye Captain.”

===Airlock 1===

Leading Crewman Turruo checks that the last missile has been successfully armed, and turns to report to Chief Engineer Fams, “Master Chief, the missiles are armed and set, I've set them to remotely detonate from the missile control station.”

“Very well Crewman, get back to your station and await further orders.”

“Aye Master Chief.”

===Bridge===

“Captain, Master Chief Fams reports that the packages are ready to be delivered, and Missile Control is also standing by.

“Good, let's go return the favor the sent to us. Helm, take us in as close as you can to their hull. Chimo, inform Fams that he may engage as soon as he is ready.”

“Aye Captain.” come the responses,

===Airlock 1===

Battle Droid BD985-4b comes online as Fams taps in the commands on his control unit, finishing the upload of the layout of the DP-20 Jocasta into its onboard computer and then activating the airlock as the Onyx moves dangerously close to the hull of the Jocasta, the two ships almost touching, and quickly the droids run out of the airlock, 2 to a missile, and use their momentum to carry them to the hull of the Jocasta and begin to carry out their mission.

Corporal BD985-4b motions to Pvts BD972-9c, BD982-3c, BD498-2a, BD409-3b, and BD314-5h to move out with their “packages” and begins to carry his own with BD982-3c.

===Bridge===

“Captain” Chimo says, “Master Chief Fams reports that the droids are successfully inserted onto the hull of the Jocasta, they are moving to targets now”

“Very well, Helm, keep us close for the moment, but be ready to pull out of here on my mark.”

“Aye Captain.”

Slasher pulls up the sensor feed on his console, showing the locations of the droids as they carry out their assignments, he watches as they plug three of the launchers on the Jocasta with the missiles which have been rigged to blow by remote signal from the Onyx, sliding them down the tubes to rest against the missiles loaded in her own launchers, at which point the battle droids, obeying a pre-loaded program deactivated themselves, holding the missiles in place. Seeing the confirmation that everything is in place, Slasher yells out orders,

“Helm, Get us out of here, full speed, Missile Control, detonate explosive in T-minus 20.”

“Captain,” exclaims Chimo, “Orders coming through to withdraw from this system, and return to Naval Station Daishi for refit and rearming.”

“As ordered, Mr. Leekin, set course and engage when ready, Missile Control, detonate weapons now.”

===Space===
The Onyx pulls away from the Jocasta as the missiles they had put in detonate, causing a chain reaction through the magazines of the vessel, and the Jocasta breaks in half from the force of the explosion, at the same moment that the Onyx disappears into hyperspace.

OOC:
641 Words, this ends the participation of the Onyx in this story, My interim story will start with the refit/rearming of the Onyx, which will bring her to the new deck plan being designed by Trykon and myself
XNT/CWO Rorran "Slasher" Gorma/PLT Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE
XO/CWO Rorran "Slasher" Gorma/S:137 "Raptor"/PLT Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE
SCAP/CWO Rorran "Slasher" Gorma/LCR Onyx/TF:R/2nd FLT/VEN/VE
[CBV.][MC:1][MC:2][SoL][SWC][BWC][NS-1][=*IM*=][=*SWC*=](=*A*=)(=*SA*=)(=^ME^=)
Amacuse
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Amacuse
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 17, 2011 1:05:23 AM    View the profile of Amacuse 
Cayden limped into the readiness room and placed a folder onto the desk in front.  He looked at his squadron... what was left of it... smiled, and sat down.  "Ladies and Gentlemen... first off, let's have a moment of silence for our fallen comrades who gave their lives in service to the Vast Empire."

Every sentient in the room hung their heads low, thinking of their fellow wingmen who fell in battle that day.

Cayden looked over the squadron, sighed, and said "Alright... We all did our best today.  However... some of us cold have done better."  He choked on his words for a second, took a deep breath, and said "I haven't been myself these past months, ever since I found out my fiancee was killed in action on Csilla.  She was murdered... by our own people... I was denied the chance to save her..."  He fought back tears, trying not to choke on his words.  "I'm not stable... I'm not capable of flying a ship in combat... so, as of right now, I'm having Petty Officer 2nd Class Sarah Goldwater transferred to our squadron as our resident medic... and psychologist.  She is going to be helping me keep a level head while under stressful situations.  Only when she firmly believes that I can handle combat, will I enter the cockpit of a TIE Interceptor again."

He watched the faces of his squadron, noticing shock and disgust on some faces.  "Now, for more squadron-oriented news.  In one stadard week, we will be participating in a training exercise over the planet of Bimmiel.  I know the government of the planet quite well, and they have graciously agreed to allow us to use their star system as a training ground for our squadron.  Details of the training exercise shall be released in due time.  But, for right now... I want every single one of you to rest up.  Rest good, take a vacation or something.  You all deserve it after today," he said, smiling.  He stood up, and began to limp out of the room.  Sarah ran over and helped Cayden out of the readiness room and back into the Med-Bay.

"Well, sir... that was a really interesting briefing..." she said, helping Cayden back into the bed.

"Yes... yes it was..." he said, looking out the nearby window.  He placed his hand onto Sarah's, and smiled.  "It was indeed interesting..."

OOC:
WC: 399

... 

A short post to wrap up Regents Squadron's role in Into the Invisible.  Also mentions our next squadron story, Regents... hint hint  So... be prepared either tomorrow or Friday for that story.

Cayden's therapeutic sessions with Sarah shall be detailed in a personal story starting Friday.  It will be a very interesting story-line... that is for sure...

If anyone else wants to partake in the training exercise on Bimmiel, feel free to send me a message and ask.
Senior Chief Petty Officer Cayden "Amacuse" Tavers

Squadron Commander of 153rd Vast Imp. Fighter Squadron Regents

SC/SCPO Amacuse/A-1/S:153 Regents/W:58 Javelin/ICF-II Chrome Fox/TF:R/2FL/SFC/VEN/VE (=AE=) (=*SAE*=) [MC:2] [LSM] [GCM]
DeepSix
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DeepSix
 
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  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 18, 2011 11:51:38 AM    View the profile of DeepSix 
The fighting was nearing its conclusion - as Seth could see for himself by sneaking a glance at his ship's scanners. More and more red blips would vanish from it, leaving green ones behind. Of course each disappearing red blip implied the destruction of a ship. For regular fighters and bombers that meant one or two casualties a piece. For the larger capital ships however, well the number went up to dozens and even hundreds. Most would say the loss of sentient life was tragic if albeit necessary... Seth on the other hand couldn't really care less about that particular aspect. What the Onderonian pilot was more interested in was the actual power held by sharships... their destructive potential in particular. This was after all part of the reason he chose to learn how to fly in the first place. This and the fact space was the absolute best place one could hide in should he get into trouble...

"Bogey on your six, boss."

Alpha-4 was no doubt trying to be helpful, but it was really unnecessary as the Nightshrike's CO was already well aware of that fact. It would've after all been rather hard to miss the laser bolts that kept passing him by. Luckily an Interceptor was more maneuverable than an X-wing. Especially if the latter had its foils opened and prepped for combat. If the Empire had upgraded its Navy sooner then maybe they never would've lost to the Republic in the first place. Then again the Empire should've also realized that it was foolish to fight guerrilla tactics with conventional methods. And that it was quite a blunder to have two important assets at the same location, at the same time. The latter was a mistake however that apparently even the Vast Empire's brass made - getting together for a meeting and instead getting killed like vermin.

Maybe this time they'll learn though...

The petty officer wasn't unsympathetic to Vast Empire's current crisis, but at the same time he couldn't really bring himself to feel sorry for their situation either. It was after all a situation that should've been foreseen and guarded against. They were soldiers after all, not some merchant's guild or similar. Not that the latter shouldn't expect similar attacks as well - lots of rivals and cutthroats in that line of business as well...

"Looks like reinforcements arrived, sir. Better late than never, right?"

"They're still useful Quicksilver. Their arrival will serve to strike another deep blow against enemy morale. The extra firepower though sure comes in handy as well. Like with credits, one can never have too much firepower..."

"Truer words have never been spoken i guess."

The XO's comment made Seth smile as he just finished an Immelman turn, bringing his pursuer right where he was destined to end up eventually - first in the Interceptor's sights and then splattered all over the place.

How many was it with this one?

The Onderonian gritted his teeth in frustration upon realizing that he just forgot his exact kill count. It wasn't really a problem since he planned to download the ship's battle data afterward and analyze it on his own anyway... Still, it was rather frustrating needing to wait until then. Oh well...

"This is lead Dagger, enemy is retreating!"

Indeed, all across the battlefield capital ships as well as fighters with hyperdrive cores were disappearing in a flicker of light and bluish gas emission. The few fighters that remained and couldn't make the jump scurried towards the remaining capital ships, even as the latter received more and more punishment from the Imperial destroyers. The fighting was essentially over now and all that remained was either wait for the Republic's ships to be destroyed or wait for orders to stand down if they should surrender themselves. Had he been in their shoes then Seth would've chosen to fight till the end knowing that the alternative was in fact still death, only after a lot of torture and possibly some time in an agonizing prison. Now that just wasn't any way to live...

"Alright everyone, take out any stragglers and then reenter formation."

"Sir, is that necessary? They are retreating after all..."

The Onderonian recognized the voice as belonging to Gamma-4, the fellow that gave the impression of a pacifist. The man's comment made Seth raise an eyebrow - not that anyone would be able to notice it anyway. He thought to himself that this was precisely the kind of thinking that made military organizations weak. So what if an enemy surrenders or retreats? Who cares about such things? The only good enemy is an annihilated one and surely not one that could at a later date rise again and cause more mayhem. That at least was Seth's philosophy on the matter. Sure it may not have been pretty or perhaps even deemed civilized, but one thing it could not be denied - it was damned effective.

"Till further orders come these are still our enemies and will thus be treated as such. Take out the stragglers and then reenter formation as instructed."

"Acknowledged sir."

Only a dozen or so other Republic fighters were turned to scrap metal before the brass finally called them off and sent in boarding parties to take the survivors into custody. The members of Nightshrike squadron acted as escorts for a while, before finally being ordered to return to the Duke. Their job was by the looks of it... over.

"Kay everyone, let's get back. Allow others to shuffle through this mess..."

The Navy would try and gather the more valuable parts lying floating about and once they would leave the scavengers would come and pick the whole battlefield dry. By the looks of things there would be quite a bit of coin to be had too. Plenty of metal, electronics and other specific parts that may have survived intact. Merchants on the Outer Worlds would pay especially well for those...

Once back on the Iron Duke the petty officer waited for the rest of his squadron to gather round him. He knew that right then they most likely only wished to get drunk, frolic like mad or less likely just do nothing and rest up. Alas since this was a military ship not all of the above choices were really possible for the crew. At least not officially at any rate. Seth after all knew better than to assume that all the Navy's boring rules and regulations were followed precisely to the letter. Besides, he himself was probably a bad example anyway. Unless others were looking at him for ways that cold help them better hide their activities from the more strict and annoying superiors. If so then he was in fact a great example. Then again chances of that being the case were rather slim alas.

"Report to the debrief room, and we'll see just how nice it really was."

Remembering his little contest Seth then quickly added:

"And whether we out-scored the Daggers, Cats, and Boars!"

He didn't particularly care whether they had or not. What mattered to him personally was that they won and without any casualties of their own. This was that which truly mattered. Anything else was just a welcome bonus for the most part. Besides, it was one thing to stand on the winning side - somewhere in the crowd, alongside other faceless and nameless individuals - and it was an entirely different thing to stand in the blasted spotlights for all to see. The Onderonian never really liked being at the center of attention. He was always most comfortable in the shadows where he had a much broader freedom in regards to what he could do and perhaps more importantly what he could get away with safely. Doing something and getting away with it were after all two distinct things. Sometimes the latter was even more important than the former for that matter...

Seth was about to depart along with the others when the XO motioned towards someone standing a short distance away. Turning, the petty officer looked at the fellow that just stood there. Judging by the flight suit he was a pilot, one that no doubt just took part in the battle outside. Why though was he looking at the Onderonian as if needing something from him? For a few moments Seth tried figuring out the answer to that question.

He's not one of my guys, i currently don't owe anyone anything and the ones that owe me anything know better than to repay me so publicly. Damn, he looks somewhat familiar too though i can't quite recall if and where i've seen him before. Maybe in a cantina on Abrae? If so what would he want now though?

"Can I help you, crewman?"

"Trykon, Wyl Trykon, sir.  Senior Crewman."

Trykon? Where'd i hear that name before? Think... Think... Oh!

"Oh, sure. 'Trick' right? I remember you from the Academy."

Obviously the Onderonian didn't remember him too well, but from what he could still recall the fellow showed some promise. At least somewhat more than the other dozens of recruits that were joining each week. One thing the petty officer recalled not particularly liking about Wyl - he seemed to take things, including fighting, a tad too personal. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but as far as Seth was concerned however a clear head was much better than a fierce heart. His Trandoshan colleague was probably the exception - the reptile thinking quite clearly about brutally killing any enemies it was presented with. Then again that sort of behavior had its own problems...

"Yes sir. I've been trying to put those lessons of yours to good use."

Well, they weren't just his lessons no doubt and they weren't really that great either as far as Seth himself was concerned. In order to truly discover and shape one's potential one would need a lot greater freedom and resources. If things were up to him then recruits would spend more time in actual fighters rather than simulators. They'd also be taught less orthodox maneuvers and tactics in order to better prepare them for encounters with pirates, raiders and slavers that would themselves use similar methods. Alas, military bureaucracy would never really go for those things unless things were really, really dire. To the bigwigs running things pride and appearances would likely always be more important than actual efficiency. A shame really...

"I've been assigned to the 82nd, sir. I'm here to report in."

That statement made the Onderonian once more raise an eyebrow. He expected someone would eventually be assigned to fill in the missing spot in the squadron but he never really expected someone would be assigned so soon. Rather, the assignment would make sense to happen really soon but the time for the assigned candidate to travel to his new ship or base... well that usually took a few days if not weeks, depending on the exact circumstances involved with the transfer. To have someone just pop out from a fight taking place in the middle of nowhere really - well that was certainly unexpected.

"Huh? First I'm hearing of it."

As he said that, the Onderonian was already reaching for his datapad to verify this information. The petty officer checked his squadron's roster and noticed no changes. He then checked the Duke's personnel list as well - something his squadron commander status apparently gave him enough clearance to do. Only a dozen or so individuals having a surname starting with 'Tr'. Trykon wasn't one of those though.

"Sorry Trick but I don't have any notification here of a transfer order with your name on it."

Wyl's face seemed to lose some more color upon hearing the news. Luckily for him he was able to produce a datapad indeed having orders the likes of which he spoke of. They also appeared legit too. This made Seth frown a bit, not really understanding what was happening. That is to say he knew somebody, somewhere screwed up. He just wasn't sure who, when, where and/or why. Fortunately it wasn't his job to either investigate or fix this mess...

"Deck Officer!"

There were a few of them scattered throughout the hangars and taking notes related to the previous battle. The one Seth called for was one of the nicer fellows. Well maybe nice wasn't the best word to describe the man. Helpful would be better, except for the fact he was only really helpful to a handful of other individuals. DeepSix however counted himself amongst those individuals.

"We have a pilot here with unconfirmed transfer orders."

He mentioned this and then kept silent as the two exchanged information. From the looks of things Wyl had indeed been ordered to join Nightshrike. Before that order ever really came in effect however another one placed Trick aboard the Atrus. Not a bad gig, being assigned to one of the largest crafts in the whole Vast Empire's Navy. Then again being stuck aboard it wasn't something Seth for one would've enjoyed. He liked the freedom simple piloting brought him too much. Besides, it was one thing to do a job in a small cockpit where you could pretty much do anything the small space allowed for... and it was a whole different matter to do a job in a big room filled with people. Privacy and secrecy were just impossible to be had in such conditions...

"Are we done here, Qorbin?"

"Sure Geffin. Thanks for the help. Hey are we still on for tomorrow's night?"

The following night was actually involving a friendly game of sabacc where a handful of officers and enlisted personnel were supposed to blow some steam in a relaxed and enjoyable manner. Enjoyable for the winners at any rate...

"Sure are. This time i'll make sure to wipe that damn smirk off your face."

Seth smiled and watched as the man strolled off and back to his duty.

"You alright?"

""Sure. Yes. I just... Everytime I get used to the idea of one posting I seem to get transferred."

This is probably the one and only thing the military has always excelled at and chances are will continue to excel at...

The petty officer exchanged a few more words with the crewman before he prepped to leave.

"Oh, sir! Technically, I was flying as a 'shrike out there today, and I managed to get six kills - you should count them towards the Nightshrike total for the inter-squad competition."

Seth half smiled upon hearing this. He nodded and gave a friendly wave as he made his way to his cabin. He would get out of his flight suit, waste some time going over the events that had transpired and then after a hour or so he'd call for the rest of the squadron to get to the briefing room for a light debriefing. One thing his squadron needed to appreciate about him was that he tended to give short debriefings so as not to waste their time needlessly.

He was about ready to finish up that meeting when another pilot entered the room, saluted and announced that the Shrikes had the highest kill count - nine kills ahead of the Boars who came in second. Having reported this the Ice Cat pilot congratulated everyone, again saluted and got out.

"Nicely done Nightshrike... Since results are in though i suggest we make our way there and find out our individual stats as well. You have my permission to strut across the Duke's corridors. Dismissed!"
SC/PO2 DeepSix/A-1/S:82 Nightshrike/W:245 Scimitar/ISD Iron Duke/TF:A/1Flt/SFC/VEN/VE [MC2] [IG] [=^TG^=]
Atrasin
ComNet Marshal
 
Atrasin
 
[VE-NAVY] Commodore
 
Post Number:  1513
Total Posts:  1957
Joined:  Jan 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN:Into the Invisible
March 24, 2011 8:50:56 AM    View the profile of Atrasin 
The blue-black glow of Ator filled the bridge’s windows as the glow of the vast city-world below seemed to welcome its Duke home.  Geordi sat quietly in his command chair gazing out over his world.  It was good to be home.  It was good to be home and in one piece.  The actions at Rrulinn had taken some of the shine off the Iron Duke.  Repairs and resupply would be in order before he returned to Sedratis and Moff Caerbellak. Huur Station hung in the distance, below her, the Hoff.  It would be good to be home again for a bit, but not too long…there was still a matter of atonement. 

“Status Mallou.”

The ships Number One deftly pulled up her ever present padd, “We shall dock with Huur Station in approximately three minutes. Resupply crews are on stand-by as we speak as are replacements for fallen and injured crew members.  The repair crews estimate it will take seven to nine days to repair all current damage to previous condition and an additional three to perform the requested updates. That window is solid. I have the crew on rotating 48 hour liberties and all will be concluded within a five day period in case we’re needed.  The Hoff’s staff has also been alerted to your arrival and been instructed to hold off on any non-essential issues for at least the next 48.  You are on officially on liberty”, she paused as a lightly audible clang reverberated throughout the ship as it was tethered to the space station, “now.’

“I don’t take liberties.”

She smirked lightly, “you do now M’lord, Admiral’s orders.”

“Damn fuzzball...”

“Yes sir.  Before you leave you do have one encrypted message from the admiral.  Shall I patch it through to your ready room, “she queried?

“No, I have a feeling I know what it is already, patch it through.”

A curt nod to the Commodore followed by one to the Comm Officer produced the desired holo of the Wook, “[Commodore, before you go off on your Wild Moff chase I want to meet with you and the rest of the Naval High Council.  0900 Tomorrow, via Holo.  We’ll map out our next moves then.  The transfer you requested has been approved.  Stormz out.]”

Driver sighed, “Mallou I will be leaving the Duke in approximately one hour for the Hoff.  You will be leaving the Duke in approximately 30 minutes.”

Taken momentarily aback the captain stammered, “I-I’m sorry M’lord. Have I done something to displease you?”

“Quite the contrary, you have exceeded my every expectation of you for the last four years, but it is now time for you to leave the Duke.”

Nearing tears the formerly composed officer sniffed audibly and fought to regain her composure, “If that’s the case sir, why am I being transferred?”

“Because a ship cannot have two captains, and I am the Duke’s…you, now belong to the Atlas.  You are to report to the Abrae Repair yards and oversee her refit and repair. It would seem that Captain Bacredi has allowed most of the 7th Fleet to be destroyed.  The Atlas and a few others straggled out of the meat grinder and made it back to Abrae.  You are nominally in command of the 7th until she’s fit for service.  Do NOT disappoint me Line Captain.”

The mention of the rank promotion within the notice of command slapped the reeling officer back to reality.  She stiffened and saluted the Chief of Naval Warfare, “Sir, yes Sir.  If I may ask sir, who will be my replacement here?”

“You may ask, however I have no answer.  I don’t think I’ll need one for the next nine to 12 days.  When we’re ready to shove off again, I may have an answer, I may not.  We shall see, “descending from his command chair he passed the still quivering officer, “That is not your concern as of now.  A shuttle for Abrae will be leaving as soon as you board her.  Good luck Line Captain, you will need it.”

“Yes sir.”

Atrasin paused once more to view Ator from above, sighed again, and exited the bridge.


OOC:
Ok, Into the Invisible is done.  Congrats to all who made it an inspiring comeback for the Navy.  You are all to be congratulated, and many of you have been rewarded.  Now, let’s make sure we keep the energy flowing as we enter Phase II of our story…
CNO|COMD Atrasin|ISD Iron Duke|TF:A|1Flt|VEN|VE [=A=][=^SA^=][=^ME^=][=*MA*=][=FOCE=][=*TG*=][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][MC1]{BWC}[NSR:1]{SAS}{SWC}(SOL)[LSM][VC:B][DSM][VC:S]
Vacuus Ordo, Nex  -Without Order, Death
All a man can betray is his conscience. - Joseph Conrad
We few, we happy few. We band of brothers. - Henry V
May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't. - General George S. Patton Jr.
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