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Topic:  Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
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  Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
June 29, 2011 5:40:16 AM    View the profile of Trykon 
“Welcome.”  Wyl Trykon stood in the center of what appeared to be the bridge of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, and he pitched his voice to be heard down the length of the command walkway, so that each of the thirty assembled students of Fleet School could hear him.  “You all want to serve on capital ships, as members of the Navy’s Fleet Command,” he continued, when he was sure he had the complete attention of every one of the beings, “and you all have gone through the same course of study, learning what the Vast Empire’s Navy demands from its officers and crewers.  Now, all of you, look around.”  Trykon paused, as the officer candidates and crewers-in-training hesitantly glanced at each other, and took in the scope of the bridge simulator room around them.  “Some of you have what it takes to become operations crewers in the Navy, and some of you do not.  Here, and now, we find out which are which.”

The students were rapt and silent; Trykon nodded slightly in approval.  “You are standing in Simulator One – the larger of the two capital ship bridge simulation rooms here on Naval Platform Cappadocious – and you are here because each one of you has been deemed ready to undergo a full Assessment.  You will each take a station in this room, working together as a bridge crew to complete a simulated mission.  Each crew section will be observed by Academy trainers, who will evaluate your individual performance during the exercise.  If you acquit yourself well, you will move on to the final stage of Fleet School, and will most likely be serving aboard a real warship in the Vast Empire’s fleet within the week.  If you fail…” he let his voice trail off, and gave an eloquent shrug.  “Well,” Trykon said finally, “the Navy cannot afford to waste personnel, no matter how disappointing.  After all, intrasystem garbage scows require crews, as much as do star destroyers.”

Some students swallowed as they contemplated the consequences of failure, while others grinned with good-natured anticipation of the trial.  Trykon took note of the varied reactions, and then continued.  “Your mission today will test your understanding of ship’s systems and operations, as well as evaluate your understanding of the Navy’s motto: Loyalty, Honor, Courage.”

Trykon raised a datapad, and keyed the sequence to begin the simulation.  The room’s viewports suddenly went dark, and the cadets realized that the panes, instead of being transparisteel windows looking out on the Vectra System, were actually huge, high-resolution holoscreens.  The simulated viewports flashed once as they initialized, and then showed a stunningly realistic holographic representation of a starscape broken by an immense asteroid field.  Trykon returned his gaze to the cadets.

“What you see is known colloquially as The Graveyard,” he intoned, “the only remains of the planet Alderaan and its people.”

There was the sound of many beings taking a breath at the same time, and then, a profound silence fell over the assemblage.  And you thought the room was quiet before, Trykon mused.

“The Vast Empire, you will find, does not retreat from hard truths,” Trykon said softly into the quiet.  “And in this case, the truth is that Imperial officers, acting under orders, annihilated an entire world.  We will not debate the necessity or morality of those officers’ actions during this exercise, but neither will we pretend they did anything other than this...”  He gestured at the simulated viewports, and the vista of incomparable destruction they showed.

“Now, today’s training mission does call into question the necessity and morality of the actions of a second group of Imperial officers: during the exercise, you will face the same situation which confronted the crew of the Imperial Star Destroyer Implacable, about seven months after the crew of the first Death Star destroyed Alderaan.”

Trykon tapped another command into his datapad, and a holographic representation of The Graveyard shimmered into existence in the middle of the false bridge.  Deep within the field of planetary fragments, the familiar wedge-shape of a Star Destroyer – color-coded blue – was centered within the projection, and just beyond the vessel’s effective weapons range were thirteen smaller vessels – colored red – ranging in size from light courier ships to a pair of bulk freighters.  Trykon took a breath, and let it out in a long sigh.

“The Implacable was assigned to The Graveyard after Alderaan’s destruction, and tasked with intercepting any ships entering the system, and with detaining and interrogating their crews.  The official story in the Imperial Navy at the time was that Alderaan had been governed by traitors, and anyone visiting the system despite an Imperial travel ban being in effect was to be treated with suspicion until such a time as they could be proven innocent of any wrongdoing.  Well, on one particular day – as luck would have it, about a year after the Battle of Yavin, during which the Death Star itself had been destroyed – a convoy of thirteen lightly-armed civilian vessels jumped into The Graveyard, carrying Alderaanians who had been off-world when their home met its end, who wished to engage in a memorial ceremony they called The Return.  The Implacable moved to carry out its mission, and then the survivors’ convoy – despite being utterly outmatched – attacked the Star Destroyer.  All thirteen civilian ships were destroyed, with no survivors.”

As Trykon spoke, the three-dimensional graphic representations of starships clashed with each other in the floating tactical hologram.  One by one, the red vessels blinked out of existence, until only the coldly blue Imperial vessel remained.

“Today, Simulator One here will stand in for the bridge of the Implacable, and you all will stand in for the Imperial officers who were confronted by thirteen small craft a decade ago, and who chose to destroy those ships.  You will work together as a bridge crew as you face the same circumstances faced by the beings who crewed the Implacable, and through your own actions will prove yourselves to be better than those officers… or worse.  Remember the Navy’s motto as you react to events: Loyalty, Honor, Courage.  You will need to exhibit all three of these ideals, as well as unimpeachable competency in your field of responsibility, in order to pass this test and move on to the final stage of Command School.”  Trykon swept his gaze over the cadets, and then barked a final order: “Take your stations!”

The cadets broke ranks and rushed to their stations of expertise, faculty members hot on their heels, datapads in hand.  The pilots and astrogators slid down the duty ladders into the port and starboard crew pits, followed by the sensors specialists, while the communications technicians withdrew to the simulator’s fully-modeled Comm foyer, and the gunners and defensive coordinators scrambled to the side rooms reserved for their use.  Trykon was pleased to note that the entire training crew was in place and ready for action in less than two minutes.

Trykon made a final note on his own datapad, and keyed the sequence to begin the simulation.

Okay, recruits, this is it: your opportunity to prove you're capable of writing/role-playing as a crew member aboard a capital ship in the Vast Empire's Navy.

Short version - Each trainee will write his/her own version of how the simulation plays out, independent of others.  Each will have to choose a bridge station to "specialize in," and will write their story post as either:
1.  a communications mate,
2.  a ship's pilot, or
3.  a gunner's mate.

Remember, you're trying to prove you can write convincingly from your chosen position: comms, helm, or weapons.  This means you're capable of researching the relevant technology and NPCs included in the scene, and writing a believable (and entertaining) story.

Also, consider the difference between IC goals and OOC goals.  It is perfectly possible for you to prove yourself as a writer, but for your character to make mistakes in-story, at the same time.  In fact, some well-placed mistakes can often make your story more plausible, and may increase your chances of "passing" to the next Chapter of Fleet School.  Resist the temptation to "god-mode," and try instead to show your character making believably flawed decisions in response to complicated circumstances.

I or another trainer may contact you during your simulation to offer advice or otherwise just comment on how things are proceeding.  Please listen to your training staff: they work hard to make sure you can have as much fun as possible, while still conforming to how we write here in the Vast Empire, so existing members can continue to have fun, too. 

Consider your choices as you write your simulator run, and remember your orders are to capture the hostile ships, rather than destroy them.  If you choose to be a Communications Operator, do you attempt to reason with the Alderaanians, or try to intimidate them, or do something else entirely?  If you're a pilot, what maneuvers will you employ to effect your commander's strategy (in this case, you'll actually be coming up with that strategy yourself, since your ship captain for this mission is an NPC): how can you protect Imperial lives while still trying to capture the Implacable's attackers (remember, you can coordinate with the starfighters aboard the ship as well).  If you write as an Operator in the Weapon section, you'll have to coordinate with the actual gun crews firing turbolaser batteries and ion cannons, with the sensors techs providing targeting information, and with the ship's engineers, to choose targets and apply appropriate levels of power to every shot.

Finally, avail yourself of all the resources you can as you write your post!  The VE wiki has plenty of information (especially the Fleet School - and even Starfighter School - pages), and there are robust third-party websites as well, including Wookiepedia and the Star Wars Technical Commentaries.  Do your research on the general tech of a Star Destroyer and on the particular NPC crew members of the Implacable (a complete list of NPCs for this exercise may be found at the bottom of the wiki page for Chapter 2 of Fleet School, for which posting to this story thread is the assignment; remember you are replacing one of the listed NPCs from either the Comms station, the Helm station, or the Weapons station, and all the remaining ones will be your fellow crewmembers for the exercise).

It is highly recommended that your story posts exceed 500 words, but you may use more than one post to tell the story of your simulator run, if you so choose (you may also tell the whole story in a single post, if you prefer to do it that way).  Please include an OOC word count at the end of your post(s); it's helpful for the trainers.

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask any of the VENA staff - via PM or over IRC.  Good luck!
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SCAP/WO2 Wyl Trykon/CR90 Defiance/TF:B/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
XNT/WO2 Wyl "Trick" Trykon/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE


[This message has been edited by Trick (edited July 21, 2012 5:54:14 PM)]
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
June 29, 2011 11:00:44 AM    View the profile of Echelon 
"Welcome," said the training officer as he stood in the center of the Bridge Simulation room. Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran had never been on a real bridge before. When he was stationed on the Dead Gun and the Halcyon Warrior, he was never allowed up there, for he was a mere star fighter pilot, but he always wanted to command a capital ship. It was his goal in life. He now had a chance for that to happen. He was sure he would pass because he received the Star of the Academy award in Flight School. He also knew the training officer Trykon who trained him when he entered the Vast Empire Navy.

Trykon continued his briefing adding some dramatic affect to his tone. It made some of the new recruits uneasy, but Echelon was fine. The TO activated a holoprojector projecting the Graveyard space and their Star Destroyer. Then several red ships entered the projected system. He continued with his story/briefing and then abruptly stopped shouting "Take your stations!"

Echelon quickly ran down into the crew pit of the bridge and took his seat in the helmsman's chair. Surrounding him were a series of buttons, switches, levers, dials, and several consoles with blank screens. Then they suddenly lit up showing Echelon where the ship was on a map along with the enemy ships, how fast the Implacable was moving, the reactor details, where the star fighters were, and several other readouts. The ship's captain turned to the communications officers in the back of the bridge and ordered, "You make contact with the ships. I don't care what you do, but if you can't get them to calm down then we'll attack." He turned to Echelon and said, "Keep us on a defensive course towards the ships slowly." He walked toward the weapon's officer and said, "Don't fire till I tell you to. We want this to be orderly." The captain then walked to the back of the bridge and stood watching the cadets scramble to comply with his orders.

Echelon turned back to his consoles and took the information in. With the tug of his finger he pulled a small lever down and set the reactor power level to 25%. It would be enough to keep the ship moving at a steady pace without wasting extra power. He then looked at the map. He was a good distance away from the ships. About 25 kilometers. He typed in coordinates for the Implacable, and the ship began on its course. Piloting a capital ship is a lot different from a star fighter. Star fighters don't have many different ways they can move. Most have two thrusters, and they’re not that complex so you can use a yoke. Capital ships have many more thrusters and ways they can move, and they are very complex. Which is why on a capital ship you have to either input coordinates for the computer to follow, or you can set the thrust for the pitch, roll, lateral movement, and forward/reverse. The latter is hard to master, but is the closest to manual control and it gives you more control over the ship.

Echelon then sat back in his chair and watched all of the cadets work on the bridge. He then remembered Trykon saying that the cadets needed to perform Loyalty, Honor, and Courage. Echelon thought about how he could perform those. I can listen to the captain, I can show honor for the Vast Empire, and I can be brave. The first will be easy to perform. The second is hard because we’re in a simulation, and the third is hard because helmsmen don’t do much. Suddenly the communications officer yelled, “They won’t back down! They’re going to attack!” The ship’s captain sprang into action and commanded, “Gunners! I want their weapons destroyed. If there weapons are destroyed we can take them prisoner. Pilots! Get this ship in a position where we can fire most effectively.”

Echelon looked at the map now. The enemy ships were coming towards them fast. Echelon had to decide how he was going to maneuver the ship. Then he realized he had the copilot at his disposal. He looked behind him to see the copilot twiddling his thumbs. Someone’s going to fail this. Echelon yelled, “Stop slacking! I need you to coordinate the star fighters. Tell them to try to lure the enemy’s gunfire away from us.” The copilot scrambled to perform the task. Echelon then resumed on his dilema. He decided he would pilot the Implacable straight forward. This would be effective, for the Star Destroyer’s guns would have the best position to fire. Echelon decided he would use the “Set thrust” method instead of typing in coordinates. He turned several dials so the ship would go straight. He looked at the map and expected to see the Star Destroyer going fast toward the enemy, but instead he saw the ship tilt slightly to starboard.


He looked over at the thrust dials and saw that the roll had been set instead of the forward/reverse. He quickly fixed the problem and set the ship going forward. After several frenetic moments on the bridge, he heard the weapon’s officer yell, “Fire!” A few seconds later he saw one of the ships disappear off of the map. What are they doing! They’re supposed to disarm the ship not destroy them! The captain began to yell at the weapons officer who looked like he was about to pee himself. Suddenly Echelon saw that the remaining ships were trying to flank the Implacable on its port side. The damage control officer yelled, “We’re taking heavy damage to our port side. That side’s shields are at 50%!” Echelon quickly pressed several buttons and maneuvered the ship so that it was head on with the enemies once again. The gunners began to barrage the enemy ships with fire like nothing before. One by one the enemy ships were left defenseless. There were now 5 remaining ships, and unfortunately they were the five biggest too.

The damage control officer once again yelled, “We’re being hit by missiles hard! If we get hit by one more wave…our shields will be down!” Echelon thought What should I do?! Something crazy. Crazy things always work for me. Aha! The Carom Shot! Echelon quickly set the reactors to maximum power and set the forward thrust to maximum as well. The ship quickly sped forward and rammed one of the enemy ships causing it to ram into another. The captain looked at Echelon and yelled, “What the hell was that?! You just wasted a good chunk of our power!” Damn it! I didn’t think of that! But now the Implacable was now in a great position to fire at the remaining ships, and the gunners began to barrage the remaining ships with full force and in no time the ships were unarmed. The Implacable pulled the 12 defenseless ships in with its tractor beam and captured the survivors.

The screens went blank and Trykon entered the room. He said, “Good work all of you. You may now go.” Echelon got up and exited out of the bridge. That went well. Hopefully I’ll be on a capital ship in no time!

Word Count: 1,209.
FM/LCW Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/B-3/S:82 "Nightshrike"/W:245 "Scimitar"/ISD Halcyon Warrior/TF:A/2Flt/SFC/VEN/VE [SoA] [=ENG=]
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
July 17, 2011 8:50:30 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail was calm at first, standing straight and tall among the other cadets, projecting an image of quiet confidence.  He listened intently to all that the Training Officer said, and felt a thrill of anticipation at the challenge to come.

The simulator room, a copy of an Imperial-Class Star Destroyer bridge, had viewports that were actually holoscreens, and as the briefing went on they changed.  The Training Officer had ceased speaking, but Zail needed no commentary to know what he was looking it.  The image of the asteroid field displayed before him was the Graveyard, the remnants of the planet Alderaan.  It was his home.

And in that terrible moment, his finely honed composure was shattered.

Instantly Zail felt his pulse quicken, and he struggled to focus on the mission briefing.  He had heard of The Return, the ritual visit his fellow Alderaanians engaged in, but he had never done it himself.  And now, for his training test, he had to assist in dealing with a flotilla of Alderaanians breaking the Imperial blockade of their devastated home.  This had to be some sort of cruel joke!  As his nerves grew, he felt his right hand twitching, itching for the feel of some calming Ryll Spice.  He clenched the traitorous limb into a fist and tried to get some control.  This was no time to go to pieces!

The briefing concluded and the cadets rushed to their positions around the bridge.  Zail forced himself to join them, but lagged noticeably and was one of the last to take his station.  He noticed a few glances from his fellow cadets and their observers, who seemed to note his mild tardiness.  What were they thinking about him?  Surely they knew the turmoil this mission would engender in him!  Every cadet and trainer here knew about the Alderaanian in their midst, he never once tried to conceal his heritage!  This was not fair!

He shook his head, already sweating under the stress, and tried to get a grip.  Life in the Vast Empire’s Navy was never meant to be fair.  He would just have to deal with this as best he could, but trying to block out thoughts of Alderaan and actually managing it were two completely different things.

Zail glanced at the weapons station before him, located on the starboard side of the bridge, and lamented that this would be his position.  Could he really fire on fellow Alderaanians, even in a simulation?

Just then he heard the captain speaking, issuing orders to the cadet crew.  “Broadcast a general call to the thirteen Alderaanian ships,” He said to the communications station.  “Order them to surrender peacefully.  Pilot, continue a steady intercept course.  Weapons and shield stations stand ready in case of trouble.”

Zail joined in the chorus of “Yes, sir!” That came from the cadets, and tended to his duties.  His hands typed furiously at the controls and diagnostics spilled before him, showing the readiness of the Star Destroyer Implacable’s weapons.  He carefully checked the firing angles of the turbolasers and ion cannons, and tried to remain patient as the awesome warship glided closer to its smaller but more numerous prey.

“No response from the Alderaanian ships!” Said the com officer, but he continued trying.

“Captain, the thirteen ships are moving to attack vectors and coming straight at us!” Reported the cadet at the scanner station, a note of disbelief in his voice.  For such small ships to take on a vessel such as the Implacable was nothing short of suicide.  Indeed, in the history on which this training was based, death was exactly their fate.

“Raise shields, adjust velocity to combat speed,” Said the Captain calmly.  “Weapons station, target their guns only.”

“Yes, sir!” Said Zail, relieved to hear the command.  One thing they had drilled into him was that the Navy believed in Loyalty, Honor and Courage.  He tried to tell himself that his reluctance to kill the Alderaanians came from that, specifically the honor part, but maybe he was lying to himself.  Perhaps his reaction to this situation was based on his heritage, his reluctance to kill his own people.  And was that right?  Was he allowing personal feelings and emotions to dictate his behavior on a mission?  Even if his gut and the Navy motto were in agreement this time, such would not always be the case, and he feared for his motivations.

Pushing such thoughts aside, Zail quickly narrowed the weapon scanners on the nearest of the enemy vessels, a converted Trade Federation cargo-hauler.  The ship was an antique, a Clone Wars relic, and he shared the scanner officer’s disbelief that they would attack with such a thing.  Still, it opened up with a barrage of laser fire, and began eating away at the shields of the Implacable.

Activating the com to the gunnery crews, Zail said quickly, “Turbolasers, focus fire on the following weapon emplacements,” And so saying he typed numbers into the console before him.  These coordinates, based on data from the sensor station, were then relayed to the relevant gunners on the relevant decks (or would be if it was not a simulation).  “Ion cannons hold fire for now,” He declared.  The ion weapons, designed specifically to disable other ships, would prove vital later, but not until he first took down the shields of the Alderaanian ships.

He watched the barrage of fire lance out, checking readouts of accuracy and energy use.  All fine so far, all within accepted parameters.  Slowly, however, he saw the lead ship twist and roll, not exactly gracefully, but fast enough to quickly present a different and un-weakened set of shields to the Implacable.  A second set of weapons on the other side were now brought to bear, and it resumed firing on the Star Destroyer.

Scowling, Zail readjusted his crew’s target priority.  There was a momentary break in the turbolaser fire, and then his gunners resumed fire.  Again, the cargo-hauler shifted position, and so he had to change targets yet again.  Requesting more power from the ship’s engineering station, he knew he had to be quicker in penetrating the target’s shields and hitting their cannons.

“Weapons station, what’s going on?” Demanded the captain suddenly, breaking into the cadet’s thoughts.

Zail turned to face his superior, and suddenly noticed what else was going on.  While he had been shifting targets and focused exclusively on the lead cargo hauler, the other Alderaanian ships had spread out and were attacking the Star Destroyer at will, utterly unmolested by his gunners who were too focused on the sole target he had given them!

Too late he suddenly understood.  That old cargo hauler had reinforced shields, and had led the attack specifically to tie up the Imperial guns while the other Alderaanians fanned out from behind and got in position.  It was a modified A-wing Slash, and he had fallen for it!

“Weapons station!” Snapped the captain.  “We are being surrounded!  Can you handle the targeting of their weapons, or do we need to abandon that goal in favor of having our crew fire at will?”

Zail knew instantly what that meant.  The turbolasers would eat through the smaller ships shields and bring them down, but in a random firing free-for-all, there was no guarantee that the ion cannons would be brought to bear in time.  The most likely outcome of that scenario was a large number of destroyed Alderaanian vessels, and even in a simulation he abhorred that idea.  However, it was taking all his focus just to take out the weapons on one ship, let alone thirteen!  How was he to manage that?

“Weapons station, I asked you a question!” Snapped the Captain impatiently.

“I... I...” Stammered Zail, his mind racing.  Again his right hand began to twitch and he felt so nervous he could barely think straight.  Focus, he told himself!  He was better than this!  There had to be something in his training that could help him!

And suddenly, like a blaster bolt to the brain, the answer came to him!

“No sir, no need, we can continue with the original plan!” He said, looking the captain firmly in the eyes.  There was no doubt in his cool blue orbs, just the sheer determination that had seen him through training since day one.  Clearly the captain saw that steely grit too, for he nodded in acceptance of his answer.

“Very well,” Said the superior officer.  “Carry on.”

Quickly, Zail locked on to three of the surrounding vessels, targeting the smaller ones with the weaker shielding first.  Entering three sets of coordinates he relayed them to the gunners, splitting their fire.  With his confidence back and a plan in mind, his fingers just danced across the console, and smiled to see himself acting normal at last.

The larger Alderaanian craft were still hammering at the Implacable’s shields, and he could hear the panicked shouts of the cadet at the defense station issuing a warning about being down to 75% already.  Zail blocked it out and kept going.

First one, and then swiftly a second target lost it weapons, and moments later the targets suffered complete shield collapse.  “Ion cannons, fire!  Turbolasers, switch to the following targets,” He ordered firmly and rattled off more numerical commands.

The third Alderaanian ship they had focused on began to withdraw.  “Let it go for now!” He ordered, quite glad of their response, and reassigned firing priorities.  “Now, tractor beams 7 and 8, 9 and 10, lock onto those disabled ships and bring them closer to us!”

“Our shields are up, weapons station,” Warned the captain.  “This is no time to start reeling in our prisoners.”

“I understand, sir, but that is not my intention!” Replied the cadet.

Many of the tractor beam emplacements on a Star Destroyer were around the cavernous hangar bay, but it was those were not that he brought to bear now.  Zail pulled the rebels in close, using them as metal shields.  He knew that, if this simulation was programmed right, Alderaanians would not fire on other Alderaanians.  Well, himself excluded.

Almost instantly the enemy ships began to reposition themselves, unwilling to fire so close to their own.  It was irrelevant that the transports were so small compared to the massive Implacable, they still wanted to give the disabled ships a wide miss, and in so doing they lost the initiative.

As the ships passed, crossing through firing arcs in their bids to reorganize, Zail picked them off one at a time.  Almost instantly the other cadets picked up on what he was doing, and he had to hand it to the two pilots, for they knew just how to maximize their enemy’s confusion, changing the angle and rotation of the Implacable.

A sudden explosion lit the port side of the bridge, and Zail cursed under his breath.  A stray Imperial shot had caught an Alderaanian weapons’ power system.  The chain reaction had detonated the whole vessel, reducing their total possible capture count to twelve.  He pushed it from his mind, telling himself that it was only a simulation and he had not really killed a ship full of his own people.  After a moment’s struggle he reasserted his focus and kept going.

The battle wore on, and Zail pulled another Alderaanian ship in close, to continue to stir up the chaos among their ranks.  This proved to be the last straw, for there were only a handful of enemies left and they alone were no threat.  Carefully he guided the gunners into picking them off, thankfully with no further explosive accidents.

It was over at last.

As the captain signaled the end of the simulation, Zail hung his head, feeling all sorts of tension drain out of him.  Without the surge of adrenaline in his body, he suddenly felt very tired, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk and sleep for a day.

He still did not know why he had acted so hard to save those Alderaanians.  Was it truly out of the Imperial Naval edict of Loyalty, Honor and Courage, or was it something far more personal?  He did not really know, and wondered if his trainers did.  Slowly he left the simulator, wondering just what his review would be.

((OOC - 2046 words!  Sorry its a bit long, but I wanted to get it just right for my first post.  Besides, I had no idea it was to be set in the Graveyard of Alderaan, and I had to make that a factor given my character.  Hope its okay!))
TRN/CRW Pherik “Serpent” Zail / PLF Cappadocious / TF:A / 3Flt/FC/VEN/VE
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
July 19, 2011 7:44:23 PM    View the profile of TosthAaaiser 
“Welcome,” Tosth ‘Fishhead’ Aaaiser heard his Training Officer begin once the other cadets had arrived in Simulator One of the Naval Platform Cappadocious. As Trykon continued speaking, Tosth was conscious of his dreams of glory and power slowly beginning to take a more a solid form…

“What you see is known colloquially as The Graveyard,” he continued, “the only remains of the planet Alderaan and its people.”

With these words, Tosth began to lose self-control.  His knees almost gave way and his torso began paining him, almost to the extent of where he had to gasp to breathe. Alderaan. Its destruction had led to the death his entire family. Of all things for this simulation to be… It had to be centered around Alderaan, he thought to himself. I have to recompose myself. I can’t let my family’s death interfere with this moment.

With these thoughts fresh in his mind, Tosth quickly recomposed himself and resumed his natural stance, one filled with pride and integrity.

He heard Trykon yell, “Take your stations!” As everyone else rushed to claim a station, Fishhead needed a few more moments of composure. As he slowly and proudly walked towards his station, he noticed  the innumerable heads turning in his direction. Even the instructors had a mild interest in him. Surely, after his time at the academy, where he had not hidden his past or his allegiances, most people understood, especially the instructors, how much this mission would pain him? A few of the looks he was receiving seemed to show no understanding, but instead piercing, quizzical looks, suggesting that he might be a stereotypical Mon Calamari. One who sympathized with the Rebel Alliance and supported the newly founded New Republic. Oh, he thought to himself, we’ll see who seems to sympathize with the traitors after this training session is done. Yes, we shall. After today, everyone would see him as completely loyal to the Vast Empire…

He took his seat and linked into the simulator, still torn between emotions of pride and grief.

“Weapons and Shield stations at the ready.” These words snapped Tosth out of his current emotional state. He quickly assessed how far the crisis had progressed. The communications officer was trying unsuccessfully to contact the 13 Alderaanian ships. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, those 13 ships altered their course and seemed to be heading straight for the Implacable!

“Make no move yet, Weapons. Shields, go to full power now!” the Captain said in a disbelieving tone, probably wondering why these ships were making a run at a fully powered Star Destroyer. Silently agreeing, he thought he had a notion at the objective of this suicide run.

Fishhead had his fingers poised over the com controls.

Then came the first barrage of lasers. “Weapons, fire at will!”

Orders accepted, minding not to completely destroy the vessels, Tosth decided to disable engines and weapons systems. He found his first target: a transport shuttle. Activating the com to the gunnery crews, Tosth said quickly, “Turbolasers, focus fire on the following weapon emplacements,” And so saying he typed numbers into the console before him.  These coordinates, based on data from the sensor station, were then relayed to the relevant gunners on the relevant decks (or would be if it was not a simulation).  “Ion cannons at the ready,” he said.  His plan was beginning to unfold…

“Weapons, what are you playing at?” Screamed the Captain, cutting through his thoughts.

“Weapons, did you hear me or do I need to take command of the gunnery crew?” This snapped Tosth out of his reverie. He looked at the battle situation, seeing that the remaining 12 ships were concentrating their fire trying to break through to the shield generators. The shuttle that the turbolaser teams had been disabling, in that brief pocket of time, had had its shields and weapon batteries disabled.

“I… I… No sir. Ion gunners. I’ve sent you your instructions. Neutralize the shuttle that I have just sent the coordinates of.” Frantically pressing buttons to rectify the situation, he had the short-range laser battery teams focus their fire on breaking through the shields of the remaining ships. The captain backed away, but cautiously watched Tosth.

“Tractor beams!” Tosth said into the com. “Pull in that shuttle. It should be disabled, but we can never be too careful.”

He watched the scene unfold. The ships had all been disabled just moments ago… But he noticed a barrage coming in from one of the turbolaser teams. Moments later, two shuttles were lost. Tosth made a mental note, had this been a real battle, to reprimand the crew involved in this incident. They had not followed orders and their rule-breaking had allowed for two vessels full of prisoners and civilians to be lost.

The lone shuttle who he had ordered to be brought in by tractor beam had started to fight back. Its engines had not been destroyed, as instructed. He would have to have a word with all of the turbolaser battery teams, he supposed. Then he realized again that this was a simulation. As he came to this realization, the shuttle had gained enough ground to crash itself into a piece of the remains of Alderaan.

“Tractor… Tractor… Beams… haul in the remaining vessels…”

As he uttered these words, pain wrenched hold of his mind and body. It felt as though he was being tortured and burned again. The raid had just ended. He could feel the wounds on his chest opening again. His mother appeared, ghostlike…

He realized that the rest of the simulation had gone as well as it could have before he passed out. The rest of the vessels had been brought in and the prisoners apprehended.

He woke up staring at a white ceiling. He was in the medical bay. What a way to end the simulation, he thought. Passing out, for no discernable reason, save for those visions. An overall horrible performance.

The medical droid that had been attending to him allowed him to leave. He reported to his Training Officer’s office, hoping, given the circumstances, he displayed the values of the Navy: Loyalty, Honor, and Courage well enough to become closer to becoming a Fleet Command Officer.

“Sir,” he replied, as he entered Trykon’s office, “I am deeply sorry about the incident during the simulation. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t want to cause unnecessary carnage… And I suffered the consequences. My results, sir?”

((OOC: Word count: 1,079))
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
July 21, 2011 7:36:07 PM    View the profile of Ronoc 
The communication post felt like home to Ronoc. His fingers naturally went to where they were supposed to go, and the rest of the crew went to their posts. "Be ready to send a warning to the convoy. Cease all action and prepare to be boarded as they are in violation of Imperial Law. Any resistance will not be tolerated" said the External Communications Officer. "Aye aye, sir." replied Ronoc as he already began getting the proper channels up and running to send the message. "Commander, prepare your men for boarding. Pilot, prepare to move into position for our tractor beams to capture a ship."

The bridge was alive with activity. Gunners were readying co-ordinates in case their expertise was called upon, pilots were speaking amongst themselves so they may properly maneuver this massive machine of war into position. "This is a transmission from the merchant ship Justic to the Imperial Star Destroyer Implacable. We are on a peaceful mission to the remains of Alderaan. We will proceed to be searched in exchange for safe passage of our convoy." The Communications Officer looked at me, then shook his head. "These rebels never learn." With that he turned around and left the communications post. "We are approaching the convoy, Captain." said a voice from the direction of the pilots area. "Good, engage tractor beam as soon as we are in range." replied the Captain. He turned to the Second Officer. "Report down to the hanger area and supervise the boarding of the captured vessel, understood?" The Officer nodded his head and went towards the turbolift. "This is the Lustic, do you read? We repeat, we are on a peaceful mission. The convoy poses no threat. Please respond." Ronoc's heart clenched as he heard the word peaceful. He knew that this was what they said, but what would happen when the captured ship was boarded? He hoped this would all be cleared up....

The Commander had radioed the Captain that boarding was about to begin. That was five minutes ago....there had been no word since then. The Captain had begun to get visibly shaken, then he walked over to the Executive Officer and whispered something to him. The Officer, as did the first, nodded and went to the turbolift. Then...he heard it. "This is Commander TH-3346, we have taken casualties! The passengers had jammed our comms and we have just reached the bridge! Send backup, they have just sent out a dis.....ah!" He felt it, Ronoc felt the explosion. Of course, that is just figurative. The explosion through the comms was loud enough that his bones shook. At that moment, it started. All hell broke loose.

"Captain, we have hostile bombers and fighters leaving the convoy, all ships have opened fire and one is on a crash course with our aft section!" The Captain knew those ships stood no chance, but a crash course with the Implacable could cause real problems. "Scramble all TIE squadrons, fire all ion cannons at the convoy. If they continue to be a problem, destroy them. Communications, send out a signal detailing how if they cease fire they will be spared, refuse our offer and they will be destroyed." The Communications Officer nodded and fed the information to Ronoc, who began to transmit. Then, he heard it. He heard the screams, the children. "This is the Globus, we have children on-board! Cease fire! I repeat, we have children!" Ronoc heard this and his skin crawled. His hair stood on the back of his neck and he suddenly realized....the Rebels were using children as a shield. Those scum thought they could do that? "Captain! There are children on one of those ships! The Globus!" The Captain spun around and his face portrayed such gross horror it was....unreal. "Cease fire on the Globus! TIE squadrons, secure a clear route for the Marine boarding party! We are taking that ship!" The alert sounded and all hands were on station. "How are our shields doing?" said the Captain. A prompt response from the shield technician was "Strong as ever, Sir. Barely a dent being made." With that, the Captain seemed a bit calmer. He ordered concussion missiles be fired on three of the ships. He saw them fly from the ship, through space and into the convoy. It made him smile. It lit up the darkness. TIE fighters dotted the emptiness and green and red went back and forth. "This is TH-3346, we are en route to the Globus."

"Sir, the ship that was on a crash course with us has been disabled. 95% of the enemy's star fighters have been destroyed with the rest in full retreat. Orders, sir?" The Executive Officer had returned and, as usual, had returned to the Captains side. He stood there perfectly straight, uniform pressed and perfect. "Send a boarding party to the disabled ship, pursue all ships attempting to retreat. I want them all brought here and locked up. Radio the nearest Imperial patrol, I want those children taken to a local outpost for processing and protection." TH-3346 and his team had arrived aboard the ship. As he thought, the entire ship was filled with children. The adult crew attempted to fight back, using the children as shields. When they were finally cornered and tried to surrender, they were taken away from the children...and executed. The eight remaining ships had learned their lesson and stopped firing. TIE fighters darted back and forth and the Imperial Star Destroyer loomed near the convoy, a reminder to the Rebels why the Empire was just that, an Empire."Bring me the leader of this ragtag group, alive. He will have to answer for this." The Captain spoke with such disgust. He hated this man. Using children? Even savages didn't do that. As Ronoc introspected on this mission, he wondered how it would have turned out if he hadn't reported the message....they would have been destroyed. He felt proud, knowing he had served his Empire well. He had performed just as he was trained and still held his moral standards close. This....was a good exercise he thought.

(Word Count: 1,017.)
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 13, 2011 11:39:56 AM    View the profile of Bernie 
As the remains of a once proud planet flashed onto the screen, Bernard " Bernie" Simpson grimaced. Alderran's destruction was a pet peeve for him, and the one event that lost Palpatine the civil war.  At that period, Alderran could have so many purposes, from hostages to ransom the rebels out, military traps for Ackbar, or even just desperately needed late-war industrial capacity.  Continuing the briefing, Wyl pointed out the formations of civvies approaching the ISD I. Deep within the graveyard, the simulation begun. As the masses of trainees pushed for the best spots of gunnery and starfighter command, Bernie managed to snag a seat at communications, his comrade Delak right next to him. Bernard familiarized himself with the primitive controls of a ISD - I. While beginning systems power up, he realized the first Neutron-star class bulk cruiser has sped up, making a beeline for the Implacable, while the helmsman already began accelerating to intercept.
    The captain, in an agitated state, grabbed Bernie's shoulder and said," Aren't you going to hail them? Get on with it."
Bernie, flustered, immediately began the pre-arranged statement," This is Imperial destroyer Implaceable, you have entered restricted space, please match velocity and prepare to be boarded. If you are not guilty of any wrongdoing or affiliation to the Rebel terrorists, you have nothing to worry. " He nodded to Delak, who prepared a Tie boarding craft.  The captain commented, " Ah. No tractoring to avoid intimidation. Not what I would do, but I see the idea. " Bernie swore under his breath, unsure of the implications of that statement.
      The air was tense as the Tie launched with agonizing slowness. A hologram of an elderly Alderranian man fizzled onto the holoscreen. In a high voice, the civilian pleaded, " This is a civilian convoy. Don't kill us! We have children on board! " and fizzled out. He then appeared again, in what seemed to be a infinite loop. Bernard sighed and spoke again into the com terminal, " We're not going to kill you if you are who you say you are. Please slow down and open a bay up for the shuttle, just think of us as a well armed customs frigate. " A different civvie, a young woman argued, " Look. This is our homeworld. We're on a tight schedule, keep your empire out of this. If it wasn't for Tarkin, we wouldn't even have to do this." As if on cue, the tie shuttle exploded in the hanger bay of a bulk freighter.
    Pandemonium erupted throughout the bridge as nervous cadets rushed to general quarters. The helmsman slowly arced the ship around, with the artificial gravity striving to compensate. A few shots from gunnery opened up in the general direction of the convoy. About half the ships were accelerating toward the Alderranian ruins, while the others moved into what seemed to be attack formation. Surprisingly, the image of a marine appeared or Delak's screen. Bernard swiveled over to watch the contingent on the shuttle engage in blaster firefights in the main hanger of the freighter! He screamed, " They hit the tie with a Plex! These are no civilians, this is a rebel taskforce! " With that, a disruptor round hit his helmet, and he fell to the ground with a thud. Delak tried to reply, but the troopers went down. Bernard yet again swore for getting personnel killed.
    Starfighter command begun launching ties, as gunnery targeted a CR80 corvette that exploded with a brilliant starburst. They were managing the ion cannons excellently, causing two rebel light freighters to crash into each other, while others lied inert in space. Bernard thanked the simulation for the mass shadows of the asteroids, preventing a hyperspace ram on the destroyer. Despite being still at the com station, he shouted toward the helmsman," I suggest an Ackbar slash! Go between the attackers and the civvies. " . The helmsman replied, " Already on it. " Suddenly, from asteroids around the destroyer, multiple diverse snubfighters decoupled in a reverse of a technique developed by Lord Vader himself, and began torpedo runs on the bridge. The irony was not lost on the cadets assembled on the bridge due to the imperials using rebel tactics, and vice-versa. The shields were holding at 87 %, but more Y-wing bombers were soaring out of a quasar- fire class bulk cruiser.
        As the first heavy turbolasers flashed toward the attacking ships, Bernie swallowed his pride and began calling Sector command. He uttered, " This is the Implacable. Requesting reinforcements from sector command. Multiple rebel terrorist ships in Alderran system. Requesting anti-fighter reinforcements, package 4 ( One Nebulon -B , 2 strike cruisers, , and 2 lancer class patrol cruisers, with their respective Tie complements ). The admiral replied," Aren't you getting a little worried. You can take that meager convoy. " Bernard exasperatingly said, " Yes, but we don't want anyone to get away. Those fighters could do some damage at a later time. " Bernie was unsure about the call, but he hoped it would reflect positively on his report. The simulation programming was good. He'd expected that the model couldn't render the AI of ships not in the original mission.
    By now, firefights had erupted in the hangar when armed men rushed out of a captured liner. He furiously juggled calls from stormtroopers in the bay reporting casualties, kills, and captures.
    The captain ordered the escaping convoy boarded, just as the last y-wing was speared by a concussion missile from the Conviction, a strike cruiser that just jumped in from Kuat. Hull integrity remained perfect, but the shields were drained. The captain commended Bernard for the call for reinforcements, but Bernard had a feeling that it may have had negative implications on his courage score. This feeling was compounded by the presence of Wyl, who had been standing right behind him at the time of the incident.  The simulation ended as the rebels on the convoy were put on shuttles destined to the Kessel glitterstim mines. Bernie, almost forgetting the fact that this was a wargame, was sweating gallons over the console. Wyl shouted, " Good work cadets, Dismissed! " Bernard,among the mob of cadets filed out, confident that he did reasonably well. ( Word count: 1046 )
[This message has been edited by Bernie (edited August 13, 2011 11:41:26 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Bernie (edited August 13, 2011 8:53:22 PM)]
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 24, 2011 2:02:40 AM    View the profile of jebluap 
Jay rubbed his temple.  He'd been studying xeno-linguistics, something he'd always wanted to do.  But so far as that was concerned, it would mean nothing in the fray to come.  He also wondered why the directors had chosen this particular scenario.  Perhaps it was a ploy to see what sort of men they were dealing with?  Maybe they didn't think that deeply, though...

Many of the assumptions Jay had about the Imperial Navy, up to this point, had undergone a bit of a metamorphosis.  He'd assumed them insipid, insidious...  Stupid.  But they weren't.  Most of them had legitimate reasons, or atleast beliefs, for why they behaved as they did.  Why they put on the uniforms that billions saw as dark and evil.  What Jay saw now was irony...

In Jay's view of the universe, there was freedom and there was oppression.  The idea of a supra-structure, all-encompassing Empire at the help for the greater good of the galaxy just didn't equate with his beliefs of self-determination...  Twenty-one, good-looking, no-degree...  That was Jay on paper.  But he listened to people, and he observed, and he felt like he heard truth amid a lot of other silly things.  One thing he knew was economics...

The Empire was a vast bureaucracy, filled with waste and, worst of all...  Unintended consequences.  As he listened to his fellow Imperials, he heard them talk about themselves as liberators.  He had bite his tongue the entire time; in the minds of the liberated, he suspected, the imperials were foreign dominators.  Evil tyrants.  Not crusaders.

The communications officer was a little relieved to know that he lived in a different era.  A different Imperial remnant.  If word leaked out that he held opposing ideas about the imperial-way, in another time, he may have been executed.  But here, he thought, he might just be dropped off on another world or court-marshaled.  Probably not killed...  He hoped.

The bridge was a mock assembly of an otherwise real star destroyer's.  Most of the systems had automated operators, which, otherwise, would have been at the command of a small army of technicians.  Jay sat alone in a short row of comm stations.  The pilot, or helmsman (Jay was sketchy on his terms) sat about five meters north at a separate array.  Four or five other trainees sat in various other positions; weapons officer, another guy to watch the energy levels in the engine compartment...  Stuff that Jay didn't really know a whole lot about.

From what he'd heard from some of the other recruits, his position was really not that big of a deal for the mock exercise.  He was just supposed to make the appropriate communications requests for the mock bridge commanders.  Just like everyone else in the exercise, the bridge commanders were students at an advanced stage looking to pass on into the next step in their military careers.  Jay would try to keep his head down.

"Exercise commencing in three...  two..."

There was no "one," but the lights on the arrays and the hum of machines whirred to life.  The various viewports filled with a gallery of images.  The blasted remains of Alderaan hung like an asteroid belt in front of them, and the distant glint of enemy ships could be seen inter-dispersed within...

"Report: enemy ships."

A man at a station nearby chirped off a list of ships and specs.  Again, things Jay had only learned long enough to pass some preliminary tests.  The officer who asked the question nodded and keyed something into his data-screen.  He must have been playing the part of the tactical officer, Jay thought.

"Weapons report." Another litany of diagnostics and technical information.  He found the report hypnotizing.  It had a certain organization and flow that mimicked a poem's phrases and verses.  "Rear-guns, downward scape, 75% energy reserve potential...  Rear-guns, upper scape, 50% energy reserve..."

Foot-steps behind him had gone mostly unnoticed until a voice queried: "Communications.  Hail the enemy forces."  Jay was surprised by the voice and stammered to formulate a response, taking a moment to wonder whether he was the one being addressed.

"Y-yes, Sir.  Umm..."  Jay froze for a moment.  What was he supposed to be doing?  The lights in front of him, even though they had labels, seemed like a maze.  This was supposed to be simple...

"I'm waiting," the student officer's voice rang.  Jay laughed a little under his breath; they were probably taught to talk like that to subordinates, he thought humorously.  The lighter note made something click; he had his bearings again.  Flipping some switches and closing in on the signal that his read-out was showing on his monitor for the biggest ship, he clicked in the com.

"Enemy Ship, this is the Imperial Star Destroyer..." he had to think...

"Implacable..." the bridge officer whispered impatiently.

"...Implacable.  Prepare to surrender your force and be searched, pursuant to Galactic Imperial Regulation Gamma-R22m, ICS.  Awaiting your response."

The com went silent.  Jay was surprisingly relaxed now that he'd broken the psychological barrier of actually speaking.  The silence hung in the air a bit longer than was comfortable...  He found himself glancing over his shoulder at the officer, almost shrugging as if to say "sorry for the wait..."

"Captain, APS Hope and Faith.  We are not, at this time, prepared to be boarded.  We will not be entering your direct space, and no search or seizure will be required.  We are here only for a short ceremony."

Jay glanced back at the officer.  "Tell them we don't wish to force them into surrender, but if they do not do as they're told, we will disable their craft and have them boarded by force."  Jay wasn't really thinking then; he felt like he was watching a holo-film more than actually being a part of the action.  The mission goal to was to keep the enemy ships from being destroyed, so this was one approach, he surmised...

He relayed the directive.

There was another short silence.  A tech at the array behind him was saying something to the weapons officer...  "They're turning about...  Increasing speed and approaching..."

The voice of the officer on the Hope and Faith came back with a more terse tone than before.  "Repeat, we are on a memorial mission.  We will not be entering your direct space and no search is required..."

"Then why," the student officer had reached passed Jay and set the comm to 'open' on his own.  He looked back at the weapons officer to hear him say something before continuing on...  "Why are you accelerating with 75% of your force?  Clearly, you are not interested in complying and you are not here on a memorial mission..."

The weapons officer's voice listed off a series of pre-arranged defensive orders.  The tactical officer in the upper-deck sent an order to scramble fighters.  Jay watched the scene ensue, more impressed than he had expected he would be...

"In fact," the officer to his left continued...  "The investigation into the circumstances that brought about Alderaan's demise is still under investigation.  If you are indeed, as you say, a group seeking to say some words in memorial of this planet...  Surrender yourselves, allow us to search you, and you will be allowed to go along your way..." The edge in the officer's voice made Jay tense up.

As Jay's mind began to whir, he thought that the officer to his left had no intention of ending things peacefully.  No, he thought...  This guy wanted to show someone who was boss...  They might not kill anybody, he thought, but they were very prepared to disable them by force...  He was also surprised that the officer had chosen to play the party-line and tell the bogus story about a supposed "on-going investigation."

"Implacable...  You have given us no choice.  Prepare to be destroyed."

"Now wait a minute," the bridge officer said, "We're scrambling fighters that will tear your ships to pieces.  You don't want this heat, do you hear me?  I've been plenty fair.  If you don't want to die, you'll stand down and allow us to search you.  Do you hear me?"  For a simulation, the junior officer seemed very irritated.  He wasn't quite yelling, and he hadn't necessarily raised his voice, but the edge and derision, out of assumed authority and superior weaponry, was obvious.  These people were flies and could be easily swatted.  The imperials, in the student officer's eyes, were being merciful.  As the silence continued, the look in the officer's eyes said it all: how dare they...  His eyes were wide, his mouth grimaced.

"Tell those fighters to engage with full ions!" he shouted up to the tactical officer.  "The same to you, Mr. Dorr."  The weapons officer nodded his head and relayed the directives.

Another officer, one Jay hadn't seen, was directing the positions of the helmsman.  The ion batteries would only be able to safely disable the enemy ships if they were positioned in a place where they could effectively attack.  Otherwise, if they slipped into a separate weapons sphere, the ship would be forced to attack with regular turbolaser batteries.

"Enemy fighters, coming in low...  Thirty-two in all..."  The viewport filled with vessels, large and small.  Streaks swept across, fighters...  And then lancing blue lights, ions from the imperial fighters...

"Okay- with any luck, we can disable their main carrier and show them that they don't stand a chance," the bridge officer to his left thought aloud.

"Ions fully charged and ready to fire," came the weapons' officer.

"We are in firing position, mid-breast," came the helms officer.

"Fire all ion batteries!" the tactical officer shouted from above.  The bridge actually shook as the order was followed.  The simulator was doing an amazing job of giving the real feel of the battle.  Even the officers seemed to be passionate...  but they also didn't want to fail their test.

"Direct impact!  Shields at 24%!"

"Enemy fighters are being disabled, sir!"

"Okay, let's go on ahead..."

The tactical officer was walking down the stairs as he was cut-off mid-sentence-

"Gun-boats!  Firing missiles!"  The shout from one of the techs was met by a quick order from the tactical officer:

"Tell those fighters to mix!  Evasive maneuvers!  Shields at full!"

"Two fighters...  Five fighters down!"


There was an eerie pause.

Jay wasn't sure of the implications of what had just happened, or precisely why it had just had the impact it had...  But- he could tell by the way the tactical officer was looking at the weapons officer...  Something had just went very wrong.

And then Jay understood...  It was unacceptable to spare all of the enemy's ships but sacrifice those of the Imperial's...

"You son of a bitch," the officer to Jay's left comm'd in.  "I told you to stand down!  What the hell do you think you're doin?  Stand down!"

The tactical officer was shouting commands to the weapon's officer now.  "We may not get perfect marks, but take out those gun-ships.  Where the hell did they come from?  I didn't know they were in this scenario!"

The idea occurred to Jay that the organizers had manipulated the scenario for surprises...

"What do you not understand?" Jay felt flecks of spit spatter the side of his face...

Something about how this man was yelling into the com shifted Jay's mind as well...

"We were trying to save you miserable low-lifes, but I guess you want to play the hard way." A burning was building in Jay's chest...

"You mindless idiots.  Do you want to end up like your brothers and sisters?  You guys are from Alderaan, right?  Thanks to your stubbornness, millions are dead.  You'll be doing the exact same- no different- to your own men.  Who are the murderers?  Not us, you miserable neoliths...  You brought this on yourself, just like those bastards on the planet."

"You killed billions of people!" The voice on the other end of the line was the same as before...  But it was different now.  True anger rang out.  Again, Jay was amazed by the sincerity behind the enemy commanders' voice.  Weren't these just actors?  But he didn't have much time to think- the sensation in his own body was becoming difficult to keep down.  Jay was tapping his foot quickly, his leg almost hopping from his anxiousness...

"And they got what was coming to them!"  Before Jay knew what he was doing, and anger lept up inside of him.  Standing up, he turned to look straight at the student officer.  Jay was shaking his head about something, but he couldn't put it into words.  All the people who lost their entire lives...  families...  somehow were channeling something into his body...  Suddenly, the words and action flowed like water from Jay.

"You're a disgrace." Jay said.  The student officer looked taken aback, but then started saying something with a sneer on his face.  Before he could utter another word, Jay's body, primed somehow in anticipation of what he would do, reeled his arm back and then propelled it forward, his fist cleanly crossing the jaw of the officer. "AAH!" He shouted.  How the rage of all those families and dead entered him...  Only God knew.

But, Jay did remember something.  He had only been listening to the officer idly, sure, as if watching a holo-film, but that didn't keep him from feeling on an unconscious level.  Jay had studied the destruction of Alderaan; all the conspiracy theories.  He hadn't believed it himself at the time, that the empire could have destroyed an entire planet...  It was a little far-fetched, even for him...  But now he knew.  It was a fact.  Even among the imperials, it was well-known and accepted.  Most wrote it of as a different generation of Imperial, but still...  Some had denied it, and even gave it credibility.  Jay had always assumed these people to be belligerent, and he was right...  But- he couldn't believe how angry had just become.  Something had taken him over.

He was surprised with how hard he had hit the officer.  He was clearly unconscious before he hit the ground.

Suddenly, the simulation ended.  Officers entered from both sides, weapons withdrawn.

"Get down on the ground!  NOW!"

When he swung his fist, he knew he was making a point...  But Jay also knew he would likely spend the night in a detention cell.  His chest still heaved from the adrenaline...

He slumped to the floor.
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 24, 2011 10:00:56 AM    View the profile of jebluap 
Jay tried not to think about the look on his father's face when he told him that he'd been kicked out of the imperial navy.  "There goes your chances of getting a real job- no one hires people like this!  You've ruined your life!"  Jay didn't happen to think that was the case, but he knew that's how his dad would read the situation.

The detention cell door hissed and slid open.  A tall man in a captain's uniform had to duck to get inside the cramped space of the cabin.  Jay didn't want to look at him, already confident of the proceedings ahead.  The officer cleared his throat.

"Relax.  I'm not here to have you executed..."  Jay shook his head, laughing a little. 

"Yea, but- you're here to kick me out."

The officer smirked, oddly, and then opened up his arms as if wrongly convicted.  "You jump to a lot of conclusions, trainee.  You think that what occurred between you and the junior officer in that scenario is the worst thing I've ever seen?" He laughed.  Jay furrowed his brows; he looked at the officer from the corner of his eye, suspicious still.

"I struck a superior officer in a fit of rage.  That doesn't violate some kind of capital penal code in the imperial navy?"  Jay wondered if he was asking to be convicted.  Maybe he was...  The whole idea of joining the Navy was a sad affair from the start.  He had been conflicted from the beginning...  Maybe this would be the final emotional release.  Perhaps, this was necessary...

"Kid." The word caught Jay off-guard.  Was this an officer or some guy teaching him how to check the energy levels in his speeder's power supply?  "Listen, you knocked a guy to the ground for a good reason, and you were driven by emotion.  Striking officers isn't usually the way we like to keep people from getting too hot, but..."  The officer scratched his head.  "The guy had it comin to him." At these words, a weight began to lift from Jay's chest. 

"I've been an officer for a while, and most folks in this faction readily admit to the evil that was done under the galactic empire.  We have a lot of similarities obviously, but- don't expect to read about us blowing up a planet for no good reason in the morning news.  To be real honest, it's a good think you hit the junior officer..."

Jay shook his head in disbelief, still surprised by how the events were unfolding.  "I punched an officer and you're telling me 'good job?"

The officer pursed his lips, as if thinking for a moment.  Then he said," sometimes, the best thing you can do is to kill your commanding officer..."

The words shocked Jay, and the officer could see it clearly, because he started laughing.

"Alright, already- get up, ya bum.  You're not in trouble this time, but let's not go making a habit of this.  Y'know, you broke that guy's jaw.  He's going to be in and out for treatmeants for atleast a week thanks to you.  I might try to steer clear of him for a while, if you can..." The officer started walking out of the room.  Jay, relieved at his good fortune, but still shocked, followed. 

"Thinking back," Jay said," I don't know if it was my anger that made me hit him."

"Oh?" The officer replied, genuinely interested.

"It felt more righteous than that, y'know...  Like I was avenging millions of people, or something."  The officer chuckled.

"Like the great equalizer or something? Is that so...  Well," they started walking down the corridor," you may not have noticed this, but the actors playing the enemy crew weren't selected from just any bunch of troopers.  The testing board likes to make things as realistic as possible...  Emotions and everything, not just the set." Jay nodded his head.  "The fella playing the part of the lead enemy captain was a native of Alderaan.  His whole family was killed in the attack."

Jay felt something in his chest.  He didn't understand it then, but maybe it was a feeling of twistedness...  How twisted, he thought, of the testing board.  But, clearly, they had accomplished their goal.

"I suspect the anger and frustration in the commander's voice may have had a hand in the anger you felt..." The commander patted Jay on the back of the shoulder.  "If nothing else, you might have thrown a punch at an Imperial that he'll never get to.  I guess that's the justice part you were talking about, right?"

"Yea...  I guess you're probably right." Jay shrugged and laughed, too.  "I hope it helps him, then."

"I suspect it made him feel pretty good..."  Jay thought the officer had completed his thought, but then he added "For what it's worth... I would have hit him too."
[This message has been edited by jebluap (edited August 27, 2011 1:17:08 AM)]
[This message has been edited by jebluap (edited August 27, 2011 1:37:42 AM)]
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  RE: Command School Cadets: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
September 1, 2011 12:58:59 AM    View the profile of Locksmith 
Looking through the large windows of the bridge he starred at the many chunks of Alderaan passing by. Ratan hadn't payed attention to his terminal for a little bit when suddenly he heard small amounts of static and chatter. Wondering what is was he turned a knob slowly until the sound became clearer. It had been the chatter of a crew and by the sound of it an Alliance vessel. they had been trying to catch the Imperials off guard and attack from behind. They had currently been in the debris field drifting lazily. It had been directly to the right of them. He quickly muted his sound and called off as he looked to his commanding officer, "I found something! There's someone on our channel, probably listening in to our communications. I've spotted them to be to the right of us, just drifting along the debris."

"Good job," The Commanding Officer commented. And with that shots had begun to rattle the Star Destroyer coming directly from where Ratan had said. Only a slight hesitation had happened as the crew had got their minds focused on what had been happening. The Star destroyer retaliated as it had begun to turn so that all weapons could focus on the target. The opposing ship had just been firing all their weapons that had been on their right side while still floating about the debris.

The bridge had been full of noise and and rattling. The enemies turbolasers had been sweeping by the outer shell of the SD with one in every four shots hitting a random spot. The Star Destroyer opened up full force upon the enemy taking out their Engines as they had been gradually turning on. Ratan turned his comm on and started sifting through channels until he had finally been heard to the opposing forces, a lone comm officer . Ratan began speaking cutting off the captains own yelling, "This is Ratan Sara of the Imperial Vessel that you are firing upon. Cease your fire and we will cease ours, we are willing to negotiate!"

"Who is this? How did you get this frequency?" Questioned the voice on the other side, "What negotiations are you talking about? You imperial pigs killed a whole planet, and for what? There are no negotiating with one-sided zealots like yourselves!" The man yelled in anger, and continued to spew insult until Ratan had successfully cut him off.

"You're right, it was a cruel and evil thing to do, though we had no choice in what to do. We're soldiers, we follow orders or we die! There's no arguing about that, if it was up to me, it would of been different. I'm no emperor though." Ratan sighed as he took a break.

"I don't know how different it would have been, but we are soldiers. Though it's still no excuse! The people living there were innocent! My family died there, and now I hope we send all of you to hell!" The man responded in rage.

Ratans Commanding officer intruded as he figured out what had been going on, "This is Lt. first class Deril Haz, I command you to stop firing upon this Imperial vessel, and are hereby under arrest-" Ratan looked to his commanding officer and slammed his right hand upon his terminal turning off his broadcast. Deril looked over with a red face, "Leave this to me!"

"No, sir." Ratan kept shacking his head slowly, "I have this under control."

"You aliens are imbeciles, never know how to do the right thing!" Deril taunted, "But proceed, I want to see you shuffled off of this bridge for your failure."

One of the SD's turbolasers had gone out along with the shields, but the whole right side of the opposing vessel had been blown off and disabled, and the SD simply halted firing for the time being

Ratan nodded his head, "Keep your fingers crossed." He went back to his console to negotiate with the man on the other side, and sighed. "Stop this... this madness. Let's settle this engagement calmly and without the death of anymore people." The other side stayed silent, ratan had begun to get worried they had ignored his plea. A different voice had begun to reply, a woman's voice, "This is Commander Dori Jakal, I have taken all of this into consideration and will decline it. I would rather die, then be prisoners to imperials scum like you."

The opposing ships engines turned on and had been heading towards a crash course with the SD, just as a lucky shot had blown the engines out completely of the opposing vessel.

Shit!, Ratan thought and quickly picked through his head, "Not all of us are as evil as some others in the Empire, I joined to save people; not let them fall down and die!" Ratan flipped a couple switches and turned a knob and talked again, his voice echoed throughout the the opposing vessels bridge, "Stay with your ship commander, but for gods sake let your men choose which way they would have it! Let them choose to live as prisoners, or die like cowards!"

Ratan impatiently tapped the side of his terminal as he heard a small rabble go about the crew. a few opposing to be prisoners but the rest declaring that they would rather live. A small fight had erupted before a single shot had been heard and a dead silence had struck the comm. A single pattern of footsteps had been heard and then a small poof as someone took a seat. A mans voice had talked back and calmly, with sadness in his voice, "This is acting captain Seminal. We've decided that life is more important than dieing for a lost cause."

Ratan laid back into his seat and sighed in relief as he looked over at Deril and nodded, confirming that the situation is under control. He sat back forward and listened attentively.

"We'll surrender, but please, promise me... promise me I'll be able to see my children again." A very low sound of sobbing had been heard, "PROMISE ME!"

Ratan bit his lower lip, let go, and sighed, "I...I'll try."

"It... it's better than nothing, I.... I'll trust you on this." The man slowly said and began to talk to his crew. Ratan hadn't heard much, but he knew a silent cheer had been going through most of their minds, knowing they would live. Ratan sat back in the chair and looked around, glancing only slightly at his C. O. He heard the foot steps of the captain approach and stand behind him.

"Lt. what happened here? Why from all the stations, I heard the most chatter from here, what's going on?" Questioned the Captain tapping his left foot impatiently.

"I had contact with the enemy vessel, and they have agreed to stop their shenanigans and surrender as prisoners of War." Ratan said  turning in his seat and looking up at the captain.

"Bring them up on main comm channel, I want to hear it to confirm," Demanded the Captain, Ratan imply flicked a switch and pressed a button bringing up the opposing vessel's.

"Please repeat last statement," Ratan said politely into his mic.

"This is acting Captain Seminal," The man began in slow and low tone,"of the Glacial Fury, we hereby surrender and hand ourselves over."

The captain smirked, "Excellent, hold fire, and send boarding party. Good work, I'll make sure to commend you."

((OOC: WORD COUNT 1249))
TRN/CRW/Ratan "Locksmith" Sara/3Flt/VENA/VEN
[This message has been edited by Locksmith (edited September 2, 2011 3:02:28 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Locksmith (edited September 12, 2011 10:35:03 PM)]
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 7, 2012 9:43:58 PM    View the profile of Dunny 
The room in which the throng of trainees stood was a perfect simulacrum of the command bridge of an Imperial-I Star Destroyer, second only to the Executor-Class Star Dreadnaught as the largest, most powerful and feared warship in the known galaxy. Over a kilometre in length, the Star Destroyer was an icon of Imperial power, a dagger-shaped behemoth that loomed threateningly over any foolish enough to defy the Galactic Empire’s might. Every single person in the room hoped someday to serve aboard, and the most ambitious amongst them desired to someday even command, such a deadly war machine as this.

The bridge was superb, as close to the real thing as possible. Every single measurement was exact, right down to the smallest millimetre. The materials were exactly the same as those used on a real Imperial Star Destroyer, and even the weight of the buttons and the resistance the levers gave were the same as the real thing. The fact that this bridge, under the surface, was nothing like that of an Imperial Star Destroyer, but an elaborate simulation with holoprojector viewports and a computer controlling it all was even more impressive. The simulator was undoubtedly a work of art.

Unfortunately, this was entirely lost on most of the people standing in the room, as with the exception of the training officers, none of them had ever seen the bridge of a Star Destroyer from the inside before. Even Sam Dunn, already an ace pilot and veteran Stormtrooper, the most veteran trainee in the room, had never stepped foot inside the bridge of a ship larger than a Strike Medium Cruiser. Just like the rest of the trainees, the young man stood in awe at being in the presence of the controls of one of the deadliest ships in space.

His ice-blue eyes drifted from detail to detail of the room as he took it all in, a small smile on his scarred face as he looked at the desk from which a single individual controlled the six heavy double turbolaser turrets, two heavy double ion turrets, and enough point defence weaponry to make all but the most suicidal of fighter pilots soil their flight-suits. That, he thought to himself with no small amount of anticipation, was where he was going to be sitting. The corner of his lip tugged a little, and his smile broadened. This would be interesting.

Sam Dunn had destroyed dozens of starfighters in his service with the Imperial Starfighter Corps, and he had killed a Wookiee with its own E-Web Heavy Repeating blaster as an Imperial Stormtrooper. On a mission that he was never, ever allowed to reveal, he had eliminated a member of the only military force that gave even the Mandalorians pause before the man had even realized he was there. Even his impressive kill-count was nothing nothing compared to the amount of destruction he could unleash from that seat with a single word. It was, Sam Dunn reflected, a very humbling thought.

The gunnery console was located on the starboard side of the bridge, with the starfighter controller’s position right behind it, and a viewport with a breathtaking view just to the starboard of it. He was glad that it wasn’t located in the crew pit, a recessed area in the bridge where the helmsman was located. He liked the thought of having a view. Right now, he was standing next to the unoccupied scanners console. He turned to face Chief Petty Officer Rolan Marr, a male human whom was going to be in control of Starfighter Operations, and grinned good-naturedly.

The man smiled back. Sam Dunn, as a fighter pilot himself, truly appreciated the work that the flight controllers did for the Starfighter Corps. As a Star Destroyer had far more impressive sensors and scanning equipment than the TIE Interceptors the Vast Empire Navy used, it was the flight controllers who kept pilots updated on enemy positions, movements and dispositions, co-ordinating the actions of the individual squadrons into a cohesive force that was able to swiftly react to and overwhelm opposition. A clever and imaginative Flight Control officer was a great asset to the SFC. A stupid one was a liability.

CPO Marr was definitely a member of the former category, innovative, quick to react and able to communicate important details very quickly. Dunn wished that such a man had been on the Fearless during the Battle of Coveway. It would have made the mission far easier, and he might have broken a few less ribs. The two had quickly become friends, building on the common ground they shared in Starfighters. The oil stains on Dunn’s uniform were from volunteer work the two had done repairing damaged fighters. Life, Sam reflected, always seemed much simpler when fixing things. Or killing them.

His thoughts were cut off as he heard a pair of Imperial jackboots clicking against the polished floor of the bridge, and turned his gaze from the gunnery station (and its impressive view) to the main bridge itself. His smile only widened as his good friend and mentor, Lieutenant Wyl Trykon, stepped onto the bridge, his uniform immaculate as ever. His expression was disciplined, and Sam knew that the man had his serious face on. His own smile faded to a small, lopsided grin – he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a disciplined expression just yet. He wasn’t ‘civilized’ enough.

As the man stepped onto the centre of the bridge, the level of chatter on the bridge quietened, and then fell silent. Sam knew that Wyl could command silence without using words – the two had worked together before, and Sam was pleased to see his old friend again. He folded his hands behind his back in an attempt at a proper stance, but the fact he was leaning against the wall with a small smile on his face rather ruined the gesture. No-one seemed to notice, fortunately, and there was a distinct lack of anyone shouting ‘Stand at attention, Dunn’.

“Welcome” Wyl Trykon said, projecting his voice in order to ensure that everyone could hear him. Every eye, lens and other ocular organ in the room turned to face him, as the man began the briefing for what was going to be their final exam as Imperial Fleet Cadets. They all listened up, knowing that they couldn’t afford to miss a single word of what was about to be said. The low whispering that had persisted finally stopped. Waiting until he was satisfied that he had their undivided attention, Wyl Trykon spoke up again, for all the class to hear.

“You all want to serve on capital ships, as members of the Navy’s Fleet Command.” Many of the cadets nodded, but Sam couldn’t help but think Nah, I just came here for the free meals.. His internal monologue was the sarcastic sort, but he had just enough good sense to not say what he was thinking aloud. Not even Marr would appreciate a joke at this vital stage of play.
“And you have all gone through the same course of study, what the Vast Empire’s Navy demands from its officers and crewers. Now, all of you, look around.” Wyl commanded.

No-one was about to disobey, and Sam Dunn was glad for another reason to check out that sweet view. The rest of Cappadocious Platform, and Abrae’s orbit looked out. He kept staring out there as Trykon spoke again, enraptured by the view. When it changed in an instant to an asteroid field, Sam Dunn raised an eyebrow, before remembering that this entire room was a simulator. The realization, which he had forgotten, took him aback for a moment, and he turned his attention back to Trykon, a little embarrassed at having allowed himself to get distracted. It wasn’t particularly wise.

“What you see is known colloquially as The Graveyard,” Wyl Trykon said, his voice deadly serious, almost reverential, “the only remains of the planet Alderaan and its people.” That got a reaction out of most of the crew, but Sam simply stared past Trykon and at the rubble that had once been a planet, his expression never once changing. Better a quick death, he thought to himself, than being eaten alive. The realization that he felt absolutely nothing when confronted with the greatest mass-graveyard in the entire galaxy bothered him a little. He knew that he was supposed to care.

But he didn’t.

“The Vast Empire, you will find, does not retreat from hard truths,” Trykon spoke softly, as if he was speaking at a funeral. In a way, Sam reflected, he was. He had heard accounts of the destruction of Alderaan. Some said that the planet had defected to the Rebellion. Some said it had attacked first. Sam doubted these things. The man in charge of the greatest weapon of the galaxy had simply not been able to resist exerting its power. The strong killed the weak. That had been the way of things long before Grand Moff Tarkin.

“And in this case, the truth is that Imperial Officers, acting under orders, annihilated an entire world. We will not debate the necessity or morality of those officer’s actions during this exercise, but neither will we pretend that they did anything other than this…” There was something in Trykon’s voice that Sam could not place. Envy? Regret? Disgust? Sam couldn’t quite be sure, but he had a feeling Trykon did not approve of the destruction of an entire world. Sam, on the other hand, had a different opinion. If opposition presented itself, you destroyed it, and the next would reconsider.

He was pretty sure that was what Grand Moff Tarkin was thinking, when he had ordered the planet destroyed. Or, perhaps, the man had simply wanted to know what it was like to be responsible for the death of a world. He snapped himself from that train of thought just in time to hear Trykon speak again.
“The Implacable was assigned to The Graveyard after Alderaan’s destruction, and tasked with intercepting any ships entering the system, and with detaining and interrogating their crews. The official story at the time was that Alderaan had been governed by traitors.” Trykon paused, exhaling.

“And anyone visiting the system despite an Imperial travel ban being in effect was to be treated with suspicion until such a time as they could be proven innocent of any wrongdoing. Well, on that particular day – as luck would have it, about a year after the Battle of Yavin, during which the Death Star itself had been destroyed – a voncoy of thirteen lightly-armed civilian vessels jumped into The Graveyard, carrying Alderaanians who had been off-world when their home met its end who wished to engage in a memorial ceremony they called The Return.” Well, that certainly sounded reasonable enough.

“The Implacable moved to carry out its mission, and then the survivor’s convoy – despite being utterly outmatched – attacked the Star Destroyer. All thirteen civilian ships were destroyed, with no survivors.” Sam Dunn had to admit, to attack an Imperial Star Destroyer with nothing but transports must have taken some serious guts. Those Alderaanians must have had probe droids of Mandalorian Iron. Not much of a threat, admittedly, but Sam privately agreed with the Implacable’s crew. They fired on an Imperial warship – did they expect to be rewarded with blue milk and biscuits? Apparently, the Empire should have done just that.

As Sam continued to listen to Trykon give the briefing, he quickly figured out that for today, he and the rest of the cadets were going to relive the situation, to see if they would do things any differently. He found himself wondering that self-same question, before he realized that it wasn’t really in his hands. If the Captain ordered him to fire, then he’d fire. If he was ordered to hold fire, he’d hold fire. It wasn’t like they were just going to let him shoot willy-nilly with a Star Destroyer’s turbolaser cannons. That could get someone seriously hurt.

“Now take your stations.” Trykon ordered, and Sam hauled himself off of the wall and ambled towards the Gunner’s station, sitting himself down in the chair and making himself comfortable. Within 10 seconds, he looked like he’d been sitting there for an hour, his headset resting at a jaunty angle and he was leaning well back in the chair. Behind him, Marr was a model Imperial Officer, straight-backed and attentive. Sam Dunn was not the model Imperial Officer, and he didn’t pretend to be. As long as he did his job well, he doubted that the instructors would mind overmuch.

“Sit up straight, Dunn, this isn’t Sabaac.” MCPO Quors, the female Zeltron chief of gunnery, berated him, and with an aggrieved sigh Sam Dunn straightened up a little. He felt a lot less comfortable now, but at least it looked a little better.
“Sorry ma’am.” He apologized, injecting the very slightest hint of a smile into his voice. She was right, this was a serious moment for him, but he couldn’t help but be a little friendly. He wondered if they’d put an attractive female near him in order to distract him. He doubted the Empire was above such tactics.

So, hiding another sigh, he removed that distraction from his mind, and familiarized himself with the control station, at the same time fishing a pocket calculus from his breast pocket and placing it on the station in front of him. His formal education had come a little late in life, and for calculating things like range and trajectory, he was going to need a little bit of help. Sam Dunn may have been cocky, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t acknowledge his own weaknesses. As the simulation started, he felt a slight bit of confidence. He was good at killing.

The cadet in charge of sensors, Ral Manni, spoke up from his station behind the main bridge.
“Sir, 13 contacts emerging from hyperspace. We have six medium bulk transports, one YT-1300’, two Action Freighters, three…old Ghtroc freighters, by the looks of it, and…wow, where did they find one of those?” He sounded a little surprised, almost in awe. Whatever the ship was, Sam noted, it had to be an antique indeed. He also noted that the man had paused mid-report. The Captain noticed it too.
“Tell me what it is, Crewman, and I’ll give my best guess.” The Captain scolded.

Manni sounded apologetic when he spoke. “Sorry sir. It’s an old Dynamic-Class Freighter, in excellent condition, too.” Definitely a hodge-podge of civilian craft, and some of them quite fast, too. Sam was especially intrigued by the Dynamic – it was a light freighter from a time when the Republic was relatively new, a fast smuggler’s vessel. An old muscle ship, they called them. It would be a shame to destroy it, he mused quietly to himself as he checked on the status of the weapons systems. Turbolasers were good, Ions were good, point-defence batteries were good. Tractor Beams were good, too.

He keyed in the comm to the weapons crews – better tell them to get ready.
“Turbolaser and Ion batteries, prepare to receive targeting solutions. Tractor beams on stand-by. Point-defence batteries, fire on anything that gets within five kilometres under its own power.” Sam gave his orders with a casual air, as if he was ordering a glass of blue milk at a diner’s, but everything he said had a reason behind it. Quors, standing behind him, coughed quietly. Evidently, she had a question.
“Why the point-defence batteries? They only just left hyperspace.” The question was a valid one, for sure.

“Ma’am, the YT-1300 and the Dynamic are obnoxiously fast. They might actually be able to get within point-blank range before our main guns can get a lock.” Sam knew he was being over-cautious, but there was the simple fact that the two smuggler’s vessels were likely to be modified with extra weaponry, and even if not, an impact would be disastrous. He blinked, a little distracted. The fact that her voice sounded as sultry as a siren’s and that she was resting her gloved hand on his shoulder didn’t distract the young man at all. Nothing to do with it.

She nodded and noted something down in her datapad, as the cadet manning the Communications station, at the Captain’s request, sent the pre-programmed challenge to the hodge-podge convoy, telling them to power down and prepare for boarding crews. So far, it was all pretty standard fare, and Sam was too busy calculating their positions and trajectories on his datapad to follow too closely what was going on in the communication’s room – which was even farther from his seat than the sensors station. Eventually, after what he knew was entirely too long, he had the solutions. There was a problem, though.

With the ship facing an entirely different direction, and the nose above the convoy, he could only present one half of the ship’s weapons. He keyed the comm – he might as well give what targeting solutions he could to the crews.
“Turbolaser 1, target YT-1300 freighter. Turbolaser 2, target nearest Action-Class freighter. Ion Cannon 1, target Dynamic-Class freighter. Do not fire without my command. Solutions are being sent to you…” He pressed a button on the gunnery console, sending the firing solutions he had plotted to the targeting computers of each cannon. “Now.” He added, as he sent the co-ordinates.

They didn’t need to be precise – each gun’s crew would constantly make corrections as the freighters moved, but with general distance and direction, they would know where to look, and it would make their job far easier. The Tractor Beams were still well and truly out of range, but a target lock from the big guns of an Imperial Star Destroyer ought to put just a little more weight into the communications officer’s words. It was one thing to say ‘no’ to an Imperial Star Destroyer. It was another to say ‘no’ when staring down the barrel of a Turbolaser.

“Captain, request we turn to face the convoy and dip our nose – I can’t get a target for the starboard broadside from this angle.” Sam spoke up as the crew awaited a response from the convoy. The Captain turned from the port-side viewport for a moment to glance at the young gunner’s mate who was lounging in his seat, and raised an eyebrow slightly. Making a suggestion to the Captain, apparently, wasn’t the done thing. Sam remembered too late that he had forgotten to say ‘sir’, and mentally kicked himself. This ‘respect for the rank’ stuff was hard to remember.

“Helmsman, make it happen.” The Captain said, turning from Sam to regard the cadet who was actually flying this gigantic flying space triangle, and got an acknowledgement as the massive Star Destroyer started to ever so slowly yaw to port and pitch its nose a few degrees downward.
“Turbolaser 3, target next nearest Action-Class freighter. Turbolaser 4, target the nearest Ghtroc. Ion Cannon 2, target the next nearest Ghtroc. Co-ordinates are being sent now.” Each of the eight ‘big guns’ of the Imperial Star Destroyer would be more than enough to deal with the small freighters. Easily more than enough.

Any more than one cannon per ship would be overkill, and the big guns were the only things that had range to the ships at this point. Still, he remembered how quickly the YT-1300 and Dynamic could move, and keyed the comm again. “Tractor crew 1, target YT-1300. Tractor crew 2, target Dynamic freighter. If they pounce, stop them dead in their tracks.” Again, he received acknowledgements, and noticed with satisfaction that Turbolaser 3 now had a lock. There was a chance that the comms crew would be able to talk the convoy into surrendering, but Sam wasn’t taking chances.

“Sir, getting a response from the Dynamic. They refuse to acknowledge Imperial authority, and claim that they have every right to visit their homeworld’s grave.” The comms officer reported, and the ships certainly did not appear to be changing course – they were heading straight for the asteroid field, in fact.
The Captain let out a long, heartfelt sigh – he was certainly doing an excellent job of acting the part of the tired officer near the end of his shift. Sam silently raised an eyebrow from his console, but didn’t comment, awaiting further orders. All six turbolaser batteries had target lock.

The pilots had certainly managed to get the Implacable into position quickly; Dunn had to admit, as he double-checked the ranges and the positions of the targets. He was looking straight at the Dynamic-Class freighter when, without warning, it and the YT-1300 sharply performed a snap roll and reversed direction – they were now heading straight towards the Implacable!
“Freighters moving into attack position, sir!” Manni called out from the sensors station, sounding as shocked as Sam Dunn felt. It was out of nowhere – one moment, they had been retreating, but now they were pouring all power into the sublight engines.

“Shields up, Gunner, target those ships – I want them neutralized.” The Captain spoke quickly, energized by the prospect of a battle. Sam Dunn nodded and acknowledged his orders immediately. “Yes sir.” He said, before activating a comm line to the Ion and Tractor Beam crews.
“Ion crews, you have your targets, you may fire when ready. Tractor crews, activate tractor beam the moment those freighters come within five kilometres.” He ordered quickly, and received acknowledgements from the crews. The turbolasers did nothing, waiting for orders. The two freighters screamed in closer…and the Implacable did not fire a single turbolaser blast.

“Gunner, are you asleep at the console?” The Captain snapped, but Sam Dunn simply smiled as the two freighters angled power into their forward shields and screamed within ten kilometres, beginning their high-speed attack run. A pair of surprisingly powerful turbolaser blasts from each slammed into the forward shields of the Star Destroyer. They didn’t do much damage, but they did succeed in draining the shields of some of their energy.
“Watch this, sir.” Sam Dunn said softly to the Captain, his smile widening as the two freighters screamed across the five kilometre line, all blistering speed and murderous intent…

…and stopped dead in space, the Tractor Beams yanking them out from their trajectories and killing their momentum, the crews having had plenty of time to get a target lock. A moment later, four brilliant blue Ion blasts fired from the two rear-most turrets in the Star Destroyer’s two broadsides. Two blasts raced towards each freighter and impacted solidly, the freighters helpless to evade them. Their shields flickered, and overpowered by the sheer force of a Star Destroyer’s main guns, died without any real struggle. Dead in space without shields, the two freighters were vulnerable for a single, precious moment.

Sam Dunn reminded himself to congratulate the Ion crews for choosing their moment perfectly. Sometimes, he thought, granting autonomy to one’s subordinates gave surprisingly good results. Sam contacted the point defence batteries, sparing one last look towards the Dynamic before he spoke a single, fateful sentence.
“Blow them away.”
Dozens of beams of green death speared out from various points on the Star Destroyer, most of them from along the point-defence battery along the central spine, and converted the two freighters in an instant from speedy smuggler’s vessels to two significant piles of scrap metal. The targets were definitely neutralized.

* * *

It was over in seconds. Captain Ruyal Vorhez had blinked, and he had missed it. One second, the two freighters were performing a blistering surprise attack, and the next, they were nothing but space dust. He knew for a fact that not a single one of the turbolasers had fired. In fact, from what he could see, they were still squarely pointed at the main convoy. The Gunner’s Mate, whom was lounging in his seat as if nothing had happened, had just coldly trapped the two freighters, neutralized them, and THEN destroyed them. Well, they weren’t going to be interrogated.

There had, the Captain mused, simply been no call to murder the crews. They had been helpless. Now, they had joined their brothers and sisters as space dust.
“Gunner, does ‘neutralize’ always translate into ‘murder’ for you?” He asked, a little outraged. Had the man not heard Trykon’s words about being better than their predecessors. The young man turned to meet his gaze, eyes as cold as the space outside their viewports.
“Yes sir. They were legitimate military targets the moment they opened fire. If they wanted mercy, they should not have attacked an Imperial Star Destroyer.” He replied casually.

As if the lives of the men aboard that ship had meant nothing at all. The man obviously did not feel an ounce of remorse for what he had done. Captain Vorhez sighed and shook his head, turning to face the viewport. Some of the group had opened fire, so now the whole lot had to be taken in for interrogation. With a bloodthirsty gunner’s mate, this was not going to be easy.
“Sir, all freighters are now within the asteroid field. Should we pursue?” That was Senior Crewman Lyle Marks, the Falleen. Captain Vorhez nodded to himself, and answered.

“Pursue to the edge of the field, and stay there. Do not under any circumstances enter the asteroid field. I’ll not have us lured into a trap by pilgrims. Communications, repeat message: they are to exit the field, power down, and prepare to receive a boarding party.” Unlike certain members of his crew, Vorhez intended to at least give the crews of those freighters a chance to surrender peacefully – especially now that their two fastest vehicles were out of commission. He didn’t expect them to comply, but at least he had made an attempt. That was what mattered, after all.

“Sir, flotilla says they will never give themselves up to a bunch of…thugs and murderers. Their words, sir,” the Comms officer said, sounding a little nervous, and perhaps a little guilty. Vorhez sighed. That stunt with the point defence guns had ruined any chance that the Implacable had of taking in the convoy peacefully. He ran a hand through his greying hair, and turned to face the gunner’s mate, who appeared to be giving new orders to his gunnery crews. He just hoped the man could exercise some restraint.
“Gunner, disable the other ships. Disable, not destroy. No war crimes.”


Sam Jack Dunn was honestly surprised that the Captain had not approved of his actions. A quick, clean death was the best that anyone who opened fire on the Empire should be able to hope for. They had made themselves a clear threat, and they had been dealt with accordingly. The idea that he was meant to take attackers in a live was completely alien to the man. If they proved a threat, you killed them before they killed you. It was as plain as day. Why couldn’t the captain? He sighed, and let it go.

“Turbolaser gunners, Ion gunners, you have new co-ordinates. Tractor crews, target any ships that attempt to leave the asteroid field. Hold fire until my command.” He sent the co-ordinates that he had calculated to the crews, and smiled to himself as he looked at the ships, clustered within the rubble that had once been their home. They thought it would protect them, he mused to himself, enjoying the irony for a moment. The thought that the Empire would turn the fragments of their broken home against them, he doubted they had considered. If they wanted to join the corpses, fine.

“Ion gunners, fire on my mark…mark.”
The two Action-Class Freighters were slow, but they were well armoured and well shielded. Often converted into pirate vessels they were the greatest remaining threat. If they had been upgraded with extra weapons, and the Star Destroyer overloaded its shields on the asteroids, they might actually have been a threat to it. So, Sam targeted them first. Two pairs of brilliant blue Ion bolts streaked from their cannons, and smashed into the shields of the freighters, which sputtered, but didn’t completely die. They had obviously been upgraded.
“Maintain fire.” Sam Dunn gave the order.

The freighters even managed to absorb the second Ion hit on their shields, an impressive feat in itself, but the third was finally too much for them, and they shorted out.
“Cease fire.” He ordered, and the Ion turrets fell silent. The Star Destroyer had a greater range than the freighters, and was not yet in theirs. At the moment, they were no real threat to the battleship. Once it neared the field, however, that would change. So, Sam had to make sure they weren’t a threat when it got there.
“All turbolaser batteries, you may fire on my mark…mark.”

The Captain evidently heard this, and sharply turned to face the Gunner’s Mate, then turned to look out the viewport, realizing it was too late, as twelve brilliant streaks of green speared into the asteroid field that had once been a world…
…and shot straight past the freighters, into the largest chunks of asteroid that resided nearby. The rocks exploded, sending shrapnel into all directions. Those bits of shrapnel then impacted onto other asteroids, which sent shrapnel spinning off of those. Soon, millions of small rocks were flying everywhere. Millions of them flew straight into the shields of the freighters.

And, overburdened by trying to disintegrate countless solid impacts, the shields overloaded, and flickered out. Though they robbed enough momentum from the rocks and rubble to prevent any hull breaches, the ships were now helpless before the guns of the Imperial Star Destroyer. So, they attacked. The ships threw all available power into their engines and raced towards the star destroyer, the Action freighters guarding the more vulnerable bulk freighters, with the Ghtrocs moving towards the flank. Sam Dunn watched the brave, suicidal charge. He knew some in the bridge would be moved. He wasn’t.
“Turbolasers, fire a second volley.”

Again, the main guns of the Star Destroyer roared. Again, the brilliant green bolts streaked past the ships, and again, they smashed into the nearest, largest pieces of rock they could find, obliterating yet another chunk of The Graveyard. Again, a cloud of shrapnel spread out from the impacts, streaking straight towards the freighter’s afts. This time, however, there were no shields to stall the momentum, and the rear-most ships, the lightly armoured medium bulk freighters, were the worst hit. The shrapnel shredded their sublights, rending metal and igniting fuel, causing multiple hull breaches. The ships stopped dead in space.

It was possible that the crews of those ships were alive – if blast doors had been installed, or had the sublights stopped the worst of the shrapnel, or if one of a million possible factors worked in the Alderaanian’s favour…but it wasn’t particularly likely. Listing badly the shredded sublight engines failed, sending the ships floating hopelessly in the asteroid field. One of the ships floated directly into the rear of the one in front of it, which sent it careering straight into the sublights of the Action freighter that was guarding it. The entirely unintentional ramming proved to be devastating.

The nose of the bulk freighter was scorched by the sublights as if it had taken a turbolaser blast, and melted away, propelled backwards by the heat and force of the exhaust back into the ship that had first nudged it. Both ships simply crumpled under the second impact, their superstructures buckling as they slammed into each other, and stayed together. The Action freighter, for its own part, was now limping on damaged sublights. It was not about to escape any time soon. The other freighter was shielded from the shrapnel by the two that it was attempting to guard.

How ironic.

The Ghtroc freighters were about to slip out of the asteroid field, however. Sam hoped that the tractor crews had remembered their orders. As two of the freighters slipped free from the field, and stopped dead in their tracks, Sam smiled to himself. Of course they had. The crews had followed his orders to the letter, as any good Imperial crew should.
“Ion cannon 1, target the port-side Ghtroc. Ion 2, target the starboard-side Ghtroc. Fire at will.”
The two ion cannons had been tracking the Ghtroc freighters anyway, though no thanks to him, and fired almost immediately.

Sam noted to himself that once again, the Ion crews were showing remarkable initiative. The two cannons spat out their blue light again, and caught the small, poorly-shielded Ghtroc freighters in the open. Blue lightning crackled along their hulls as their systems were overpowered and shut down by the blast. They were, to use the phrase, dead in the water.
“Now the last one. First to score a hit gets a recommendation for promotion.” A little incentive should make this interesting, Sam thought to himself. He was still surprised at how quickly the Ghtroc was taken down. By turret 02.

Well, he was going to have to see if he could get that crew a promotion, or at least something shiny to pin to their uniform, he thought to himself, before he remembered that there was, in fact, an Action freighter bearing down on them.
“Multiple Proton Torpedo launchs detected!” Manni alerted the crew. Sam Dunn cursed himself for getting so easily distracted. The damn thing was a missile boat!
“Turbolasers, take that ship out! Tractor crews, try to slow those missiles down. Point-Defence crews, take them out quick!” Sam Dunn was already kicking himself for his lack of attention.

The Turbolaser crews reacted quickly, and twelve brilliant green bolts turned the freighter to slag by the time it had fired its fourth Proton Torpedo. Sam Dunn knew his orders were to capture, not kill, but with ordnance like that, the ship might actually be able to do some serious damage to the destroyer. Better, he decided, to take it out as quickly as possible, to prevent it getting off another volley. The tractor crews, their beams still locked onto the two Ghtroc freighters, were not able to re-align in time. The Proton Torpedoes streaked even closer, fast. Too fast.

To their credit, the point-defence crews actually managed to shoot one of the small but deadly torpedoes before it was even close, and the explosion blossomed harmlessly into space. The other one, they hit right before it would have struck the shields. The thermonuclear explosion from the torpedo still managed to punch a hole in the shields – a small one, but the hole was definitely there.
“All shields to front!” The Captain barked out, and the shield technician complied immediately. The extra kick of power closed the hole in the shield, and another blossom of fire impacted against the shield.

This time, considerably boosted, the shields held. A sigh of relief passed through the bridge crew. It was Sam who first realized that the freighter had fired four torpedoes…and only three had been stopped.
The Captain realized it a heartbeat afterwards. He leaned against the wall, and spoke calmly.
“Brace for impact. Notify damage control.” Sam braced himself in his seat, as the Torpedo, invisible to him from his position, streaked towards the bridge of the Star Destroyer. Apparently, the gunners in the freighter knew their craft quite well. This, Sam Dunn thought to himself, was gonna hurt quite badly.

The Torpedo didn’t hit the bridge. It struck the Star Destroyer about a hundred meters below it. The viewscreen turned white as a bright blossom of thermonuclear fire, blindingly bright, flashed outside of the ship. The Proton Torpedo was a nuclear device, designed to cause maximum damage, and it certainly did that. Sam Dunn sighed as the screens went blank. At that range, the bridge would have been rendered inoperable, either by the explosion or the nuclear EMP. Though not destroyed, the Star Destroyer was crippled. It was a mission failure, and it was entirely his fault. He had failed.

Word Count: 6,000. Sam Dunn, after easily picking apart most of the convoy (and committing one or two war crimes in the process – I’m pretty sure shooting a mass grave counts as desecration), under-estimates one of the last freighters and ignores it for a more obvious target. He pays dearly for his inattention.

Trn/PO1 Sam "Dunny" Dunn
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
November 27, 2012 10:34:35 AM    View the profile of Fyston 
For a man of his experience, nothing really fazed him anymore. Nothing shocked him. Heck, not even whatever 'surprise' they had in mind could possibly rattle him. He'd been in more simulations than he cared to admit, and the only difference here was that he would be a member of the bridge rather than a fighter pilot facing insurmountable odds against a superior enemy while equipped with horridly maintained equipment. Basically, what he did every day.

Nobody knew he was here, nobody from the starfighter corps. He told everyone, including any commanding officers who asked, that he was taking a few sick days to get over some horrid flu that somehow worked its way into his system. Coupled with the fatigue everyone had been facing, the idea that one of them caught something and was going to sick bay wasn't unheard of. He even placed a notice dictating that he was under quarantine and, thus, unable to be seen or talked to for the duration of his stay.

And so here he was, leaning back in his chair, which was near the rear wall, while the instructor spoke. Most, if not all, of the others in the room were rookies and had absolutely no idea what they were getting into. Sure, they were learned in terms of book knowledge, but Fyston wouldn't bet his life on the trainees having any form of experience. Sure, he didn't have much bridge experience aside from a number of books he had scavenged in the few weeks since he decided to go for Fleet School. His near-photographic memory had helped him study. Near-photographic meaning that, while he couldn't recall every sentence, important definitions, diagrams, and other bits of information could be embedded into his mind with a little focus and recalled with a little more focus.

The Zabrak stretched out, reclining his head further and closing his eyes, opening them only when the next trainee group walked into the simulator. He even thought he saw an old Nightshrike by the name of Dunn, though it had been so long since he had seen the man that it was unlikely to be the veteran pilot. Besides, why would Dunny be making the transition, thought Fyston, though he soon stopped worrying about it and returned to his rest.

"Last group, let's go," said the same instructor who had been talking when they were first in the room, causing Fyston to stir and causing the other newbies to nervously stand. While they made their way into the simulator, one even puked, eliciting a devilish smile from the fighter pilot. As the unofficial squadron medic, he was used to such a reaction from new blood. Normally, it was before an actual engagement, though everyone had different stomach strength.

The pilot had originally had quite the challenge with picking a duty station, given his medical training. He'd have to ask for a transfer to the medical section if he passed, but he had decided on being a helmsman. First, it was pretty good for a backup plan in case a transfer was unavailable. Second, the change from a starfighter cockpit to a helm was relatively quick and simple, and allowed him to gain some experience even if the transfer did go through.

With a deep inhale following shortly before, he allowed any sense of worry or apprehension to flow out in the form of a controlled exhale. There wasn't much to begin with, but it was always nice to start with a clean slate. Fyston lowered himself into his chair and brought the diagram of the helm station to the forefront of his mind. It wasn't as clean as it was in the book. He'd forgotten some details, some words, and it showed in the form of a blurry spot on his mind. It was what he was dreading, as he hadn't had much time to study due to the nature of his current career. After all, pilots might have free time, but there wasn't enough time to sneak away from the squadron to study. They tended to inhabit most of the traditional R&R locations onboard, locations such as the gym. When he needed to study, the Zabrak would simply pack his books into his aid bag and slip down to one of the medical bays. He'd lock himself in one of the many storage areas and read.

When all of the trainees had strapped themselves in to their stations and gave the ready signal, the simulation started. The Captain, who Fyston didn't know, began issuing orders almost immediately, particularly to the communications personnel. With his attention on the task at hand, Fyston couldn't be bothered with listening in to anything else happening on the bridge. It wasn't any of his business what the Communications station was doing, as the Captain would relay anything to those who needed it.

Only a couple of minutes into the simulation, the helmsmen had their first orders. The convoy refused to stop and were being given one final warning in the form of a show of force by the Imperial Star Destroyer. The command was to bring the Implacable into a firing position. "I say we maneuver it into a broadside position, sir," said the other helmsman, looking over at Fyston. With a silent shake of his head, the Zabrak spoke. "That'd be fine if it was a larger vessel, as the space and time needed to maneuver into a broadside from this angle would allow them too much time to maneuver or flee. Let's put it in a downward angle, allowing us to bring all of our guns to bear. This'd work with both smaller vessels and larger ones, so keep it in mind." In the time since his return, Fyston had gotten slightly less abrasive. He was still very much the type to hang out in corners and not talk to people and didn't take threats very well. The Zabrak kept most of the behaviors learned in prison, such as keeping his head down but noticing quite a lot, as well as not saying anything. Much of his communication, unless it required verbal input, was nonverbal. He'd come back from prison with a hundred new gestures and looks, one for every occasion. He didn't have a look for explanations and for giving suggestions, though, and so words filled in where gestures and body language could not.

Working in tandem, Fyston and the Leading Crewman next to him worked to bring the Star Destroyer into position, making various adjustments at their stations and communicating their plan to the CWO in charge of the pilots, who was sitting behind them. He was fairly laid back and agreed with Fyston's plan. Together, the pilots angled the Implacable downwards, the ship lumbering into position while the pilots monitored for any problems.

Halfway through the maneuver, the ship began to list to starboard, away from the Alderaanian ships. "25% starboard list and increasing at an impressive rate, working to correct," said Fyston, decreasing the power to the port engines and increasing the power to the starboard ones, stopping the list and slowly reversing it while the pilots manipulated the maneuvering flaps, which brought the Star Destroyer back to a correct angle...

And then some. The Zabrak wondered why the ship was continuing to list when he realized that, in his hurry, he had overcorrected and that he had messed up the maneuvering flaps. "Sir, we're continuing to list," announced the Crewman while Fyston worked wordlessly beside him to correct his mistake. Perhaps they'd attribute it, if he corrected it in time, to some error in the engines, which Fyston had also forgotten to fix. A number of taps and the issuing of commands to the maneuvering flaps fixed the problem permanently. The CWO was looking at him, eliciting a shrug from Fyston. "Can't be good all the time, learn from experience, it won't happen again, etcetera." This caused the CWO to laugh, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. "You're funny, flyboy. Don't worry, it happens. You'll learn."

Minutes later, after repeated warnings to the Alderaanian vessels, Fyston heard the order to open fire on the civilian vessels. Despite being in the bridge, he could feel the slight shudder beneath him as the weapon crews fired simultaneously, the green bolts of energy flying away from the Implacable with impressive speed. The pilots worked to bring the ship closer to the civilian vessels, though the Alderaanians returned fire. Their fire, particularly accurate for multiple bursts, struck near the bridge, damage the shield due to the large number of blasts in a short time. Rubble from the civilian ships was indicative of three kills.

Fyston worked to rotate the ship counterclockwise, exposing the weapons that had yet to fire and bringing stronger shields to bear. He glanced over at the Leading Crewman, smiled, and nodded his head. "Wouldn't it be best," began the Crewman. "If we listed slightly, allowing more weapons to fire?" Both the CWO and Fyston nodded in agreement, Fyston making a mental note of the maneuver and working with the rest of the crew to list the ship slightly to starboard, this time toward the Alderaanians.

The second barrage destroyed 6 vessels, leaving a measly four of thirteen. They were close this time, and missile crews had been able to get a lock on each of the vessels. Fyston watched, eyes on both the screen and the viewport, as the missiles streaked towards their targets. The vessels were able to fend off one or two, though there were more missiles than the lightly-armed ships could handle.

The bridge was deathly silent as the crew relaxed, no collective sigh of relief or victory cry. As the simulation ended, people began getting up and leaving, though the noise gradually began to grow. Just as he put a foot on the ladder, Fyston looked over at the other two pilots. "Good work, you guys. I'll see you in the field."

WC = 1,657

Fy decides to go for FC and shows up in his nice uniform at the simulation. He takes helm and his non-douche side makes itself known, with some recounts on how he prepared for the sim.
FM/PO1 Fy/1-3/S:82 Tuk'Ata/W:245 Scimitar/mSSD Atrus/TF:A 1Flt/SFC/VEN/VE [SoA] [=^SUR^=] (CAR)
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
March 20, 2013 3:48:36 AM    View the profile of Raigen 
Loyalty Honor Courage

Crewman IIan Trask Cand...everything about it made him sick to the stomach.  Even within the Black Hand and the RDO he had never been anything less than a Non-Commissioned Officer, a leader of men.  Now he was in some training room with twenty-odd, wet-behind-the-ears, green arse rookies who wouldn't know a stock freighter from a Andrulian trash hauler if they could smell the decay.  He had been a spacer since he was a child, and these simulations and training sorties were all second nature to him.  He wondered if any of the younger recruits had even seen an MC-80 in their lifetime, felt their ship ripple like a wave as turbolasers bore down on their shields.  IIan had survived boarding parties, Imperial inquisitions, rival pirate assaults.  He couldn't see how this assessment could even scratch the hell he had been through.  Trask...He hated that name, but it was on his "official" documents he had Admiral Challon doctor up before he left the RDO...for the last time he hoped.  It was his grandfather's name, or at least that is what he was told as a young boy.  He had little use for a family name, a family that deserted him...left him to be raised by pirates.

The Cappadocius was not the largest platform he had ventured on to, but it was impressive and the food wasn't half bad.  'Better than the bantha fodder they fed us on the PLF Apolla' he thought.  Apolla was the asteroid base converted to command center for the Black Hand.  It was well equipped as far as munitions went but that was where the amenities ended.  The food was bantha, the beds were bantha, even the uniforms were bantha(literally...bantha leather utility vests were standard wear.)  At least the bunks here were comfortable, and let's not forget the pay.  Standard Operating Procedure for new recruits of the Vast Imperial Remnant Group: A hefty signing bonus, some forgiven debts, and a moderate salary.  IIan Cand had never done anything but raid ships and plunder the outer rim.  When it came time to get a real job, the military was the only thing he was trained for.

The men around him were younger, less experienced at the delicate diplomacy that the frontier of space required.  Some were afraid, fearing failure as many of them would experience.  Some were anxious, ready to serve on a vessel with a similar bridge that the Cappadocius had hoped to emulate, some even hoping to command one.  An Imperial Star Destroyer was not something to be commanded on a whim.  It was a symbol of power and fear, something that commanded respect.  IIan had been aboard one before, even stood upon an actual bridge, but none the recruits had any idea of the power that an Imperial Star Destroyer possessed.  The physical power an Imperial capital ship paled in comparison to its raw psychological intimidation.  A single star destroyer had the power to make a coward out of a warrior, or a hero out of a coward...depending on the situation.  When facing a power of that magnitude, it is hard to predict how an enemy will respond.  Mere intimidation or diplomacy is hard to accomplish when the only alternative is sure and imminent death.  One would be surprised at how many would choose the later under such conditions.

As a peacekeeper, an Imperial star destroyer was a lousy vessel, more suited as an iron fist than a shield.  IIan understood the concept of this test; he felt it gave him an advantage.  Loyalty, Honor, and Courage...They had tried to drill these values into him over the past few months, but he held his own code of conduct...his own set of values.  'Loyalty' he thought, Loyalty is to the empire in this situation.  He recognized the need to prioritize Imperial interests.  'Honor' this one was simple, don't do anything stupid, anything that would look bad on a news report.  'Courage'...This one was tricky, it didn't mean courage in the face of the enemy, but courage to do what needed to be done...regardless of the consequences.  The simulation was a trick question.  The outcome was irrelevant, even if you were to capture the opposing ships without a single fatality, how you did it would be the determining factor of whether you passed or failed.  Firing upon a retreating vessel would be a disqualifying factor.  Overuse of threats or intimidation would be unacceptable, but acting too weak or allowing the enemy to escape would not be allowed either.

As the simulation began, IIan Cand reached his fingers out onto the touchscreen display in front of him.  He closed his eyes and imagined the environment, the dangerous array of asteroids, the enemy vessels coming into view.  As he opened his eyes the faux viewports became real to him and he became fixated on the supposed situation.  Captain Rayul Vorhez called to the comm officer to hail the enemy group.  There were words exchanged and he could recognized the increased agitation in his commanding officers voice but paid no mind to what was said as he kept the ships speed and course steady.  He adjusted for gravitational fluctuations from the asteroid field with steady, calculated movements of his right hand which controlled the pitch, yaw, and roll of the nearly mile long behemoth he was "controlling." 

"Helmsman Cand, bear in on the enemy fleet.  Three quarters speed and maintain course."  The Captain seemed unsure of himself.  IIan wondered if he was a recruit at all, or merely placed there to make the rest of the bridge question his decisions.  Although he was completely immersed in his control panel, the thought that the entire simulation was designed to fail loomed in the darkest corner of his mind.  His left hand gracefully(gracefully is an understatement considering the size of his hands)...gracefully slid the throttle control to two-thirds max sublight.  The simulation room's grav generator kicked in, rocking the crew back and to the left ever slightly, but enough to jerk some of the daydreamers back into reality.  Quick snaps and slide of his fingers rolled an turned the ship toward the fleet of respectably armed civilian transports.

"Gunny, target their weapon systems.  Start by locking onto the largest ships, I don't want any casualties aboard."  IIan scoffed in disapproval; if there was one thing he learned in his years in space(something he knew that the Imperial Navy was well aware of) it was better to be unpredictable than to go by the book.  There was more chatter in the background.  IIan ignored it as he brought the ship to even keel with the fast-approaching fleet.  Weapons salvos flashed brilliantly from their bows.  Captain Vorhez barked a command at him, but he was already beginning the maneuver.  He pitched the ship upward slightly, protecting the bridge and communications array as the shields came online.  A few moments later, as the baby blue sheen of the shields flushed over the forward viewport, IIan brought the ship back on a path toward the bearing fleet.

"Gunney, full salvo on their shields, spread them evenly I want them alive.  Helm, turn us around...slowly..." The Captain seemed cool, IIan had no time to decipher whether or not he was planning something as he reversed the sublight drives and yawed the star destroyer at an extreme thirty degree angle.  It was a harsh turn, but it allowed him to get the ship above the firing axis of the enemy fleet.  They had approached at full speed, overshooting the simulated destroyer and putting them at an awkward angle for another shot at the Implacable's shields.  Meanwhile IIan had already brought the starboard side halfway to broad.

"Hail the enemy ships, tell them to leave the sector at once and we won't follow."  The Captain had a smirk on his face, not that IIan noticed, too enticed in the perfect turnaround he was trying to accomplish.

Warren Officer Marr Yuur opposed, "Sir, we can'naughta let them escape. We will fail the mission."

"Do as you're told sir.  That's an order." The captain seemed so sure of himself.  It was reassuring.  Moments later the sensors technician, who's name escaped the still concentrating Crewman Cand, chimed in.

"Sir, enemy shields went down with the last salvo.  They're...they're retreating sir."  It was then that IIan realized the tactic and retreat reversed.  He slid the throttle forward abruptly while rolling the already banked ship into a full broadside.

"Divert engine power to starb'rd shields, fire all starboard Ion arrays at will.  Helm, apply initial dampeners and maintain drift course."  A full salvo of Ion charges blasted out of the right "viewport."  The enemy ships flickered into darkness as the ionic charges disabled their electrical systems.

"Deploy starfighters to patrol the rest of the system, make sure we didn't miss any.  Gunney, start reeling them in."  IIan sighed, he was no longer sure whether or not the test was a farce...but he was glad that it was over...'Finally...Now I can start collecting that Active Duty pay!'

WC: 1503
TRN/CRM IIan Trask Cand/S:137 Raptor/W:46 Shield/PLF Cappadocious/TF:TH/3Flt/VENA/SC/VEN/VE[BRC]

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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 9, 2013 6:02:24 PM    View the profile of elricshadowheart 
Elric aptly stood at attention. He drank in every word the training officer uttered. As officer talked, Elric plotted. He was already planning in his mind how he wanted the simulation to go. He filtered through each and every possible scenario he could think of. Finally, the TO barked, “Take your stations!”

In clean, crisp movements, the crewmen hustled to their assigned areas within the simulation. Elric took his place at the communications console near the security foyer. He would be taking the role of external communications coordinator. Elric waited… and he mused.

He remembered his days on Carida. Things were so much different there. He had been training to be a stormtrooper. Things had been stringent, tough. Every day had been a fight for survival and improvement. Elric imagined it functioned exactly like a prison. Now, he was training to be a communications officer. While training was no walk in the park, it was nice to be able to sit while he worked.

A voice cackled on the comm, interrupting Elrc’s thoughts. “Thirteen civilian ships have entered the sector. Head ship is identified as the Mariana. Awaiting orders.”

Another voice answered, “Hail the Mariana. Tell the captain they have ten minutes to leave, or we will fire.” That was Elric’s cue.

Elric did as he was ordered. “Mariana, this is Petty Officer Elric Shadowheart of the Vast Empire Imperial Navy. You are ordered to change course. If you do not comply, you will be terminated.”

An alien voice replied. It sounded amphibious. “This is Captain Bakar of the Mariana. We are peaceful. These are merely refugees seeking to hold a memorial service in honor of their loved ones. Please, let us through. We wish no harm.”

Elric felt a wave of remorse pass through him. He wanted nothing more than to let the people pass. He understood what it was like to lose someone you truly loved. Though, he couldn’t imagine losing on such a grand scale. He let out a snort of laughter. Some Imperial he was. Then again, the Vast Empire was a different breed of Imperial. Little did he expect to be working alongside so many aliens. He didn’t mind, of course. He just hadn’t expected it. “Request, denied, Mariana. You must turn back now. You have less than five minutes or we open fire.” Elric swallowed a lump of guilt. This wasn’t right. They should be allowed to go through. What was so wrong with them having a memorial? What was so important about the Graveyard? It was just a bunch of dust. What about it needed guarding? It’s just a simulation, he had to remind himself.

Elric waited for an answer.  But there was none. “They’re not altering course,” he heard someone from behind say.

He slammed the edge of the console with his fist. “Dammit!” Elric shouted. “Change course! Don’t throw your lives away for nothing!” He was breathing hard and Elric noticed he was standing. People stared. He looked around and sank back into his chair.

Elric stared stoically at his lap. He tried to ignore the blaster cannons blaring; the explosions of a baker’s dozen ships. Over and over in his head, like a mantra, he chanted, It’s just a simulation.

Quote:OOC: Word count 540
TRN|CRW Elric Shadowheart|Cappadocious |VEN |VE
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 12, 2013 3:27:56 AM    View the profile of Yoshii 
"Welcome," said the training officer as he stood in the centre of the Bridge Simulation room. Joshua “Yoshi” Wetere, stood in awe looking at the bridge. It had been a long time since that horrible masacre aboard the HMAS Salvager, and standing on the bridge, remembering all that happened on the Salvager.
It made him doubt full of his ability,  When he was stationed on the Salvager he was just a crewman and crewman were seldom allowed on the bridge. But now it was different now, Now he had the chance to learn and to make his lost mates proud.

Trykon continued his briefing, you could hear the authority in his voice and you could see the batles he had fought in his eyes. It made some of the new recruits very nervous and unsettled, but Wetere was fine, he had been in more nerve racking situations. The TO activated a projected image of the Graveyard space of alderaan and of their Star Destroyer. Then several enemy ships were sighted and marked red were also shown on the projected system. He continued with his briefing and then stopped alerting the crew to Take their stations.

Wetere raced down into the crew pit of the bridge and sat down in the pilots chair, it was quite comfortable. Looking around he could see a lot of buttons, switches, levers, dials, and several consoles with screens showing the Vast Empires ensign and the name and designation of the ship he was piloting. All of a sudden a small chirp sounded and the screens shot into life showing Wetere a space map indicating the location of his ship in relation to the enemy forces, how fast his ship was moving, vital details of the ship (Shield, Reactor, Hull Integrity and Life Support. The status of his fighter squadrons and several other readouts. The captain turned and looked over to the communications officers in the back of the bridge and ordered, "Keep channels open, if you cant establish communication we will fire a warning shot across their hull." He turned to Wetere and said, "move slowly towards the enemy ship, maintain a defensive stance." He then turned and walked toward the weapon's officer saying to him, "Remember the rules of engagement, there is to be no action unless I advise so.." The captain then walked to the back of the bridge and stood watching intently as the cadets hurried to comply with captain orders. They didn’t want to mess this up, other wise there wont be a second chance.

Wetere turned and began to look over his console screens, trying to take all the information in. He moved his hand and pulled a red lever down slowly until the reactor reached 30%. This was an ideal speed to propel the mammoth ship forward and not use any excess power. He then looked at the screen displaying the space map. He figured he was about 30 to 40km's away, He entered the co ordinates and the ship began adjusting and moved slowly towards the enemy. It was the first time Wetere had piloted any kind of ship, and piloting something a mammoth as a Capitol Class Ship was quite daunting. Capital ships have many more ways they can move, and they are very complex to pilot. Especially if you have never flown before. Wetere thanked god he was on a capital ship you you just input coordinates for the computer to follow and your set, or if you have the confidence you can set the thrust for the pitch, roll, lateral movement, and forward/reverse. It is a hell of a lot harder but shows greater skill and grants much more control over the ship. Wetere chose to use the Com-Nav for this exercise.

Wetere then sat back in his chair and watched all of the cadets work on the bridge. He then recalled Trykon saying that the cadets needed to perform the three tennants of the VE Naval Fleet; Loyalty, Honor, and Courage. Wetere thought about how best he could show those tennants.

 I can obey the captain and his orders to the letter showing my loyalty, I can show honor for the Vast Empire by completing this simulation and if I loose I will be gracious and show honor in victory or defeat, and I can show my bravery by surpressing the memories of the HMAS Salvager and fighting for not only myself but the members of the VE and the civilians.

Suddenly the communications officer yelled “they aren't accepting our hails captain!” The ship’s weapons officer shouted  “They are charging weapons, captain”  a young ensign manning one of the radar screens yelled out “ they have weapons locked captain” The captain then got out of his chair and ordered the weapons on the enemy ship be destroyed. He then turned to Wetere and his co pilot and yelled “Get this ship into position for the most affective weapons barrage” Wetere looked back to him and replied “Eye Captain, setting new co ordinates now”

Wetere looked at the map studying it quickly. The enemy ships were moving at  them fast, with weapons armed and locked. Wetere had only a few seconds to decide the best course of action to manoeuvre the ship. Then he remembered the co pilot seated behind him, he felt stupid for not using her sooner. He looked behind him to see the copilot tapping her arm rest like a piano. Wetere told the co pilot to stop screwing around. She perked up and asked for orders, Wetere ordered her to launch our fighters and assume a defensive area around our ship, then on my when we are ready they are to draw fire from the enemy so we can assault them. Wetere decided the answer to his problem was to fly straight and at the last moment bank and go side on to the enemy ship, allowing a larger array of weaponry to be used. He then set manual thrust at a forward moment at 50% and advised the computer to bank to port when we reached ideal firing position.

“Oh F**k” wetere said as he looked down on his display screens, he had accidentally told the computer to dive instead of forward, his co pilot picked up the mistake and Wetere corrected it.

The bridge was quiet, but suddenly he heard the weapon’s officer requesting permission to fire, The captain ordered the weapons officer to target the weapons of the enemy ship. A few seconds later he saw several beams leaving our turrets and striking the enemies weapons then quickly firing again to disable their thrusters, the ship was dead in the water. “one down 4 more to go” Wetere said. The remaining ships began to flank us, one in the front and one on either side and one more to the ships rear. The damage control officer yelled, “they have opened fire, shields are down to 70%” Wetere quickly pressed several buttons and the ship began to dive out of the range flanking enemy ships. He then banked hard to port and began to move out of range of the enemy ships.

Moving on a hard bank he then entered the range of the other enemy ships targeting and assaulting their weapons, The damage control officer shouted “shields down to 60%” the weapons officer then disabling their thrusters shouted “captain, two more ships have lost weapons.

The damage control officer once again yelled, “Shields are down to 50% we have lost port side batteries” Wetere thought crap, what do I do now? There are two more ships and we are at 50% weapons and 50% shield..?! Wetere turned to his co pilot and ordered her to launch all available fighters, She quickly sent the order to fighter command on the ship and fighters began to pour out of the hangers like bee's out of a hive. He then moved his ship forward to wards the two remaining ships, set all spare power to the weapons array. The fighters began to engage the enemy fighters and draw their fire-power away from the implacable. A sixth enemy ship popped out of hyperspace and began firing on the implacable.

The damage control officer yelled “we have lost our main thrusters, sub light engines are at 65%”
the captain acknowledged, the implacable then banked to starboard and fired all batteries on the first two ships taking out their thrusters, leaving the fighters to handle the weapons. Two flights began to dive towards one of the ships and another two flights dived at the other ship. There were four flights
flying around the ships to draw fire, 6 fighters were destroyed in the assault but the other fighters battled on and managed to disable the weapons.. “One more remaining, you will be mine” Wetere said in a whisper. The co pilot ordered the fighters to disperse and cover the disabled ships and to prevent escape.

Wetere pointed the implacable in a direct path to collide with the last enemy, playing a game of chicken with another capital class ship was not the best way to start your career, in fact it was a good way to end it. He ordered the weapons officer to divert all available power, from the shields, coms, misc other ship power to the weapons array, the weapons officer thought this was odd but complied. Wetere ordered the weapons officer to charge the weapons and fire on his command, the two ships were close enough that destruction was assured, Wetere pushed the ship into a dive and ordered the weapons to be fired.

All the available weapons were fired and just before the implacable was clear the last ship exploded, it was that powerful the implacable shook from the force of the explosion.

Wetere ordered the communications officer to launch shuttles to take prisoner the enemy combatants,
the communications officer wasting no time organised the shuttles, just as the shuttles left the ship
wetere turned to the damage control officer and asked for a report

The damage control officer stood up and shouted “Shields are down, Starboard weapons 25%, Port weapons down, life support is 100%, hull integrity is at 80%, Sub-light engines at 80%, main thrusters down”

Wetere turned towards the damage control officer and thanked him for the report. Just as wetere turned back to view his screens they went blank for a few seconds and then began to show the VE ensign and ship name and designation and then Trykon entered the room. He said, “Good work all of you. You are all dismissed” Wetere walked out of the simulation room relieved that he made it and hoping for the best.

“Only time will tell” Wetere said in a breath of relief

OOC: 1796 Words
[This message has been edited by Yoshii (edited August 12, 2013 3:30:20 AM)]
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
August 24, 2013 8:22:47 AM    View the profile of Zena 
"Welcome" boomed the voice of Wyl Trykon. Zenadra Flurdilee payed her attention to the TO who spoke with authority. Much like the captain of the ship she had lived on for so many years. The bridge's main walk way was filled with recruits like zena who were just beginning their life in the vast empire's mighty armada. Although their were those who chose to not obey and instead of listening to the training officer they were quietly talking to each other. sadly a pair of such recruits stood next to Zena which was a sad damper on her attention. Zena tapped the recruit next to her with her tawny colored tail which made him turn away from his friend.

“Some of you have what it takes to become operations crewers in the Navy, and some of you do not.  Here, and now, we find out which are which.” boomed the training officer which caught the mans attention and then they went to a deathly silence.

zena watched the commander closely waiting for his briefing of the large simulator. Zena toyed with naval uniform's collar it irritated her fur although she could deal with it. Soon enough The TO barked one singular order  “Take your stations", and with that the collective group of men and women  broke off and got to their stations. Zena sprinted to the latter that lead down into the crewpit. within moments she was in the chair her tail wrapped gently around her waist like a belt. She looked around at the others within the simulated bridge. The naval trainees performed precisely what their commander had ordered now to see how the rest of the mission went.

"Sir, 5 ships have just entered the Graveyard." Said one of the communications officers.

"Okay here's where it gets fun" Zena quietly said to herself.

The captain acknowledged what the man had said and walked down the command walkway towards the primary view ports.

"Pilot's take us closer to them, Communications open a frequency try to make contact with these ships." The captain said as he watched the holoscreens.

Zena took the orders and applied it to the power relays. She upped the power from the reactors to turn the engines to thirty percent power. It wasn't a very strong rate of movement but it was enough to move the mammoth simulated Star Destroyer. It made the approach seem slightly more peaceful than if they had boosted to a high rating.

"Sir they're not responding." Said the Comm officer.

"Then I want all weapons systems ready to fire at my command. " the commander said as the ships got closer.

"Captain seven more ships just entered our range of fire. Their lead ship it appears to be a larger scale ship then the others." Said the comms officer.

"Okay you who what to do." the captain said as he headed towards the back of the simulator.

Zena nodded and continued their cruise until the ships were almost in attack range. At that point Zena began punching in the co ordinance and the ship began to dive.

"All weapons open fire." the captain ordered and within seconds the weapons systems erupted to life.

The first ship went down in a fiery explosion. that was like a que for the others cause the moment that ship went down the left over ships began accelerating to reach the other ships within the grave yard.

"Pilot, follow them but be prepared to take evasive maneuvers." The captain said.

Zena nodded making a bit of her bangs fall in front of her ember  cat like eyes.  She quickly input the code and the coordinates and amplified the power going to the engine. The ship kicked in a bit faster finally giving way and Charging after the enemy with new enthusiasm. After she had done s she brushed her bangs away and tucked the behind her ears.

"Evasion and precision make a great pilot. Caution and quick reflexes makes for a good Captain." Zena said quietly to herself.

The ships were tailed by the larger less maneuverable Star destroyer slowly but steadily closed the Gap between where they had met towards the other ships that had entered the Grave yard.

"A tactical analysis shows that this may be a trap Captain." Said a Communications officer.

"I see, Pilots if it turns out that way take us behind the large asteroid. Comms tell the star fighters to get prepped fro launch." said the Captain.

Zena grinned as her tail untangles itself and went to the buttons of the terminal she sat at. Her hands fell to the controls and she was prepared to move quicker then some since she had 3 appendages to use to her advantage. The opposing ships retreated and the comms officer turned out to be correct. Zena quickly lowered the power on the Starboard side engine. Her tawny tail typed up the code and amplified the port side engine. the Star destroyer began turning and the Captian spoke up.

"All port side cannons prepare to fire." The captain said.

The communications officer relayed the order as the enemy ships opened fire on the Star Destroyer.

"Begin firing!" cmae the captains orders.

Within moments of the order the port side guns that had the enemy in sight opened fire. the ship came to a Starboard turn and that's when Zena balanced out the power and the engines. Which began diving for the Asteroid the captain had pointed out. The star destroyer had to buy it's time so the cannons continued their salvos targeting the weapon systems if at all possible.

Slowly but surely the Star destroyer made it's way  behind the Asteroid. Zena's assistant brought them to a stop while Zena payed attention to the Captain.

"Launch the fighters, ut have them stick to the cover of the asteroids for now. Were going to try a new gambit. We as the capital ship we are will lead the attack on the enemy. What they won't be expecting is what surrounds them. So if we mask our fighters and have them come from the shadows we might be able to fool them into thinking our small task force is lager than what we really are. Pilots when all fighters are in position bring us to port and lead us into the fray. Communications use another channel and while in the combat send out fake transmissions to Our star destroyers. That'll work as a cover for the underlying message that you'll send to the fighters. That'll give us the advantage." The Captain explained.

Zena turned to the terminal and began working on her console to turn the ship around as the star fighters began dropping out of the large ship. When the Star destroyer was facing the right way all the quicker fighters were in position waiting for their next orders. Zena amplified the engine power feeds to 70 percent which got the ship rolling. It erupted from it's cover and as it did the star board weapons opened fire on the enemy. As the battle began Zena began turning the ship so that it would pint towards the enemy lead ship. That's when the final plan began. Star fighters poured in from all around the enemy ships and the battle began.

The battle raged although it was cut short when Zena accidentally forgot to shot off power to the engines. The lead ship and the star destroyer would have smashed into each other had the the enemy ship not have blown up in front of the impending juggernaut of a ship. That was when the simulation ended and Zena's terminal turned out. Zena turned and went to attention as the TO entered the simulated bridge again.

"Well done" He said.
WC: 1285
TRN/CRW Zenadra "Zena" Flurdilee //TF:/Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[This message has been edited by Zena (edited November 5, 2013 2:18:55 AM)]
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
September 12, 2013 12:55:32 AM    View the profile of Ryukuzed 
As the training officer said, “Welcome!” all Ryukuzed could do was feel nervous as can be.  Normally in situations under stress Yuk is able to stay cool and relaxed; it’s the other moments when he makes a complete fool of himself.  Right now, though, he was shaking with complete anxiety and most of all FEAR!  It had only been about a week since he stowed away on that imperial ship pretending to be the slave of a criminal wanted for crimes against the Empire.  He had gotten so lucky this past week.

Now it was time to realize odds were in his favor and buck up the courage to complete the next requirement of his Fleet School Basic Training.  Training Officer Trykon had just finished giving the run down on the training mission when he shouted out, “Take your stations!”  Yuk was blindsided by this but immediately down the stairs in front of them and took his place at the communications console eager to begin.  After everybody else had manned their stations Yuk heard a loud overhead noise signaling to the trainees that the simulation was beginning.  Simulation One was a top of the line simulator and as it began thirteen enemy ships appeared on his personal radar and he knew the simulation was already in full speed.

“Thirteen enemy ships approaching captain,” Yuk heard one of the sensor technicians say to Captain Vorhez.  Yuk knew exactly what the first order was going to be from the captain.  “Communications, tell them to stand down or they will be fired upon!”  Yuk opened his communication to the enemy fleet, “Captain Ruyal Vorhez, of the ISD Implacable has ordered your fleet to stand down and return to your point of origin or you will be fired upon.”  There was no immediate response from the enemy fleet. “You have thirty seconds to respond to this communication or we will open fire,” Ryukuzed reiterated.  “We are just passing through we aren’t looking for any trouble,” a response finally came through.  Yuk waited for further orders from the captain.  “Tell them this area is deemed hostile by the Galactic Empire and any non-Imperial ships in the area are also considered hostile, NO EXCEPTIONS!”  Yuk opened the communication back up and repeated the captain’s warning. 

The ships attempted to change course and the captain told Yuk, “Send word to the weapons station, tell them to ready turbolasers.  We are going to fire a warning shot and if they don’t hail we will open fire.”  Doing as he was instructed he awaited more information from the captain and the weapons station to report back to the proper individual.  “Lasers ready, Captain!” Yuk opened communications back up, “Stand down or we are going to open fire.”  He awaited another response when the captain instructed him to tell the gunner to fire a warning shot.

The shot fired and the thirteen enemy ships immediately halted their escape and opened fire onto the Implacable.  The captain immediate gave Ryukuzed the order to instruct weapons to open fire on the enemy ships.  “CHARGE ALL CANNONS AND LASERS AND OPEN FIRE, CAPTAINS ORDERS!!!” 

There was immediately a loud banging noise as the friendly guns were landing upon the enemy ships.  Both the enemy ships as well as their Imperial Star Destroyer were taking massive amounts of damage.  The sensor tech called out that the shield were dropping dramatically and if this continued on there was a possibility they wouldn’t see through this fight.  The captain alerted Yuk to tell the gunners to focus fire on the same ships one-by-one.  Yuk opened communications and repeated the message when all of a sudden the words “Charge shields to max!” came over the communications channel.  Yuk had accidentally opened communications with the enemy ships finally showing that clumsy nature about him that he hasn’t been able to avoid his entire life.  He didn’t know what to do he was fluttering around couldn’t even remember how to close a channel at this point.  At that point he heard Senior Crewman Evra Linx repeat the captain’s message to the weapons station and shut down the channel to the enemy ships.  Yuk kept thinking “THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” out loud instead of keeping it to himself.  At that point he heard the shield tech come over the communicator, “Shields are recharged Captain we are good to keep pushing.”

At that point they had destroyed seven enemy ships and had just recharged their shields.  Yuk was given the order to open the channel back up with the enemy ships.  “Captain Vorhez has stated if you hail now we will cease fire and take you as prisoners of the Empire.”  At that point the fire stopped without stall and the Implacable followed suit.  “Activate tractor beams, immediately.”  Yuk switched channels and repeated the captain’s orders.  At that point all of the enemy ships were being captured by the Imperial Star Destroyer they successfully defended in the simulation. 

“End simulation please!” was the next thing Yuk heard as he turned around and stood at attention.  Training Officer Trykon was back on the bridge ready to critique the final results of the simulation.  “Excellent job these are the kinds of simulations we liked to see here in the Vast Empire Navy.  Everyone did a well enough job to continue on with their Fleet School Basic Training.  Take particular note of the things you need to work on and make sure to understand what your fellow crewmembers did, as well.  You never know what station you will be posted at when you are crewing a real star destroyer.  Everyone is dismissed!”

Yuk followed the rest of the trainees off the simulation bridge back to the barracks in which he was staying at.  He couldn’t help but feel he almost blew it today and knew exactly what he needed to work on.  Only hard work and perseverance will do the job and he had it no matter how clumsy he was.  “Good job, Yuk, good job! Keep it up and you will be a full-fledged member of the Navy soon.”

Word Count: 1016
TRN/CRW Ryukuzed/PLF Cappadocious/TF:TH/3Flt/VENA/VE
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
September 25, 2013 4:54:18 PM    View the profile of Gorog 
Ruterra stood at ease with his fellow trainees.  His shoulders were pushed back, his feet spread apart, back straight and his hands clapped behind his back.  He looked straight ahead at Trykon who was addressing the trainees.  He tried to clear his mind and listen to Trykon.  However, his mind wandered off to that cute girl; Connie Keithel who was three people to his left.  No time for that, he though as he cleared him mind again only to begin thinking back to his training.  He went over the steps for the ship’s targeting computer.  As a gunner’s mate he would be the one responsible for targeting the objective given by the captain.  Months of math and physics equations raced through his head. What if the computer malfunctions? Step one: run diagnostics.  Step two: identify problem.  Step three: fix problem.  Step four: if problem not fixable in 30 seconds switch to manual targeting. Step five: as….

“Take your stations!”   

His mind snapped back as trainees moved to their stations.  He spotted his battle station on the starboard bridge wing at the Weapons station.  He took his seat next to the good looking Master Chief Petty Officer Orryna Quors.  Wow Zeltrons are better looking in person. 

“Hey kid…are you ok?” Said Quors

Ruterra snapped back and found himself staring at Quors.

“Yeah I’m good, I just got a little dizzy.” Well I guess this isn’t the time to be checking out the crew.

“Well get your act together trainee.” Quors shot back.

Ruterra then began powering up the targeting computer in front of him. Quors would call out targets and he had to set their 3 dimensional coordinates for the turbo lasers and ion cannons.  When the computer was powered up he looked up to see Captain Ruyal Vorhez walk across the command walkway to his left.  The holoscreen view ports showed “The graveyard” in such detail that it seemed like he was actually there. 

“Captain, I am picking up the signatures of 13 unknown vessels entering the system.” Said Connie Keithel from the sensor station. 

“Very well.  Communications send a signal to the lead ship asking for their identity and purpose of being here.” replied Captain Vorhez.

This is it. You just have to target the weapons systems. You know these ships; you built models of them at the age of 8 and memorized all their specs.  As soon as Guors gives me the coordinates I can just lock it into the computer and watch the fire works begin.

“Captain, the vessels will not respond.” Says one of the communications trainees.

“Captain, sensors indicate that the ships are moving into an offensive formation.  They are beginning to accelerate to attack speed.” 

Captain Vorhez pauses for a moment and thinks quietly to himself.  “Very well then.  Weapons station, target the leading ship’s weapons and then proceed to systematically eliminate weapons on the enemy vessels.”

This was it, time to show them what you learned in training.  “ I’m ready for your command Quors.”

Quors identified a target for him. The target was an old CR70 corvette.  Ruterra couldn’t believe that such an old vessel was advancing on their position.  It didn’t have the firepower of the newer CR90’s.  Behind it was a modified XS-800 light freighter that had a very similar look as the CR70.  Hey get your head back in the game, this in no time to think about the Corellian ships that your dad helped build.  He moved his hands over the console, quickly plugging in the coordinates of the lead ship’s weapons.  This information would be relayed to the gun decks were the turbo lasers would track the target coordinates.  “Captain.  Targets are acquired and we are ready to fire with 12 turbo lasers.”

“Very well trainee, commence firing.” Said the Captain.

A second after he issued his command 4 ion and 12 turbolasers opened fire on the CR70 that had pulled to the starboard side.  The huge bolts headed straight for the ship’s two light turbo laser mounts just aft of the corvette’s bridge.  Ruterra’s looked on as the bolts slammed into the gun area.  The ion bolts hit first, taking out the shields.  The laser bolts hit the guns positions but most of the energy was lost when the lasers ran into the CR70’s weakened shields.  As a result the guns were barely damaged. Crap I should have had more guns fire. “Alright Ruterra, another bust should burn through those shields.” Said Quors.  He feed in new coordinates into the computer and again the guns fired. This time the bolts burned through the weakened shields and destroyed the top and bottom turrets. Hit, alright!

As Ruterra looked at his neutralized target he jumped as he saw a blaster bolt hit the bridge shielding right in front of him.  “Hey trainee lets go, did you hear me give your the new coordinates?” Ruterra looked to his right to see Quors staring at him.  “Yeah I got them I will punch them in.”  Crap I didn’t, well you know the general area to fire. He plugged in the coordinates and then told the gunners to fire 30 lasers since 12 hadn’t burned through last time.  The ion cannons fired bringing down the shields.  Then  30 bolts were fired directly at the XS-800 light freighter’s twin turbolaser mounts.  He watched to see if his coordinates were right.  The bolts hit just forward of the turrets and burned right through the weak shields.  However the additional firepower was too much and the result was catastrophic.  The bolts hit right behind the bridge, destroying the hull where the bridge was held on.  The freighter’s bridge went tumbling off into space and the rest of the hull went off on a crazy course.  The ship sped forward at full attack speed and rammed into the engines of a B-7 light freighter off its port bow.  The B-7’s engines overloaded and exploded, destroying both ships.  Whoa!  The whole bridge went quiet as the room was showered in a yellow hue from the explosion.  “Hey, pay attention!” Quors half yelled. “That was unnecessary.  Now they won’t give up without a fight after seeing what we did to their ships! Alright target the CR70 approaching us, coordinates 25.7 65.3 17.9, use ion cannons to disable the shields and then fire with 15 turbo lasers.”

As Ruterra input the numbers the computer froze. Crap, ok step 1 run diagnostics.  The computer ran a diagnostic but the diagnostic failed to start and the computer shut down.  “Quors the computer just shutdown.” Was this part of the test? “Here let me try to get it working, you use manual targeting.” She said as she pushed him out of the way to get to the console.  Ruterra ran over to the range finder and began to set up a firing solution by hand. 

“Weapons station we have 2 CR70’s that will be on top of us any minute and can do some serious damage.  You have permission to destroy those ships since they are illegally modified if it is necessary.” Said the captain.

Ruterra finished his equations and then went to Quors’ console to enter the coordinates to the gunners.  He added that all guns should continue fire at will at the ships.  The 4 starboard ion cannon turrets fired on the lead CR70 partially damaging its shields.  Then the 32 starboard side turbo lasers opened fire at the lead CR90 Corvette the bolts impacted the hull damaging the ship but only damaging 1 turret.  The other CR70 changed course and was attempting to lead 4 other light vessels to the port side of ship to try and flank the star destroyer.  Now things got harder.  With enemies on two sides Ruterra had to work twice as hard while Quors fixed the computer.  He entered in the new coordinates for the starboard CR70 and then began calculating the coordinates of the port CR70. The 32 starboard turbo lasers hit their mark, the weapons were destroyed and the CR70 was sucked into the tracker beam of the star destroyer.

The other CR70 opened fire with their modified turbo lasers.  Their fire was not strong enough to break through the tough imperial shields but they were being reduced at a staggering rate.  The ship shock violently after each attack.

“It’s all fixed, enough with trying to disable the weapons and just fire.” Said Quors after she crawled from underneath the console.  Ruterra took is seat at the console again and quickly input the coordinates into the computer. 

“Weapons station, target an alpha strike on that CR70’s reactor.” Yelled the captain from across the bridge.

“Yes sir!” replied Ruterra while he input the coordinates into the computer. His mind raced as he felt the adrenaline kick in and his actions seemed to slow down.  In less than 15 second after the captain gave the order, the 32 port turbo lasers fired at the location of the reactor.  KABOOM the entire CR70 disappeared in massive explosion caused by the reactor going haywire.  There was no hope for the crew on board to survive.  The other 4 vessels on the port were quickly dealt with since they were slower and their shields were much weaker than the CR70’s.  Finally the last ship was disabled and the whole crew took a big breath.  That’s the last of them. 

“Captain sensors show no more enemy forces are in the area.  We have five vessels that are trapped in our tractor beam.” Said Connie Keithel from the sensor station.

“Well done crew, prepare boarding parties in the hangers.  You all did a fine job you are dismissed.”

Ruterra let out a sign of relief as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.  Looking at holoscreens was a real drainer on the eyes.  After 5 seconds Quors spoke up.  “You did pretty good trainee, if you are able to target like that without a computer then you will be a good weapons officer.”

“Thank you Quors.” Ruterra said as he stood up, and smoothed the creases out of his shirt.  Now it’s time to relax and maybe talk to Connie.

Word count is 1687. I hope i did good.
[This message has been edited by Gorog (edited September 25, 2013 4:55:55 PM)]
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  RE: Fleet School Trainees: Loyalty, Honor, Courage
November 3, 2013 3:04:56 AM    View the profile of Ross 
The simulation room was dimly lit, a single line of lights spanning the length of the ceiling. The large screens acting as the main viewports glowed faintly with the image of a distant nebula against a spray of stars that made up the Vectra System. The lighting was enough for Ross Jormund to look around and study the faces of his fellow students in Fleet Command School.

Worry was painted on a few of them, while others held a more confident gaze in their eyes, knowing their studies and practice would serve them well in their final test. Anticipation hung heavy in the air, like a curtain waiting to be drawn apart, revealing the men standing in the room like actors of a final show. This was their grand finale, the event that would launch them into their careers as operators or even commanders aboard some of the most powerful vessels in the Navy, arguably even the galaxy.

This particular room was an accurate representation of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. Ross and the other students stood just outside of the hallway that led to the bridge. The floors gleamed of polished metal, reflecting the lights shining down on them as glowing orbs against the otherwise murky surface.

Ahead of them the path divided in three directions. The left and right walkway surrounded the crew pits with consoles, sensors and displays lined against the walls. The middle walkway passed between the pits, leading to the far end of the room, where the infinite expense of space lay behind the viewports.

Standing at the end of the bridge, feet planted firmly apart with hands clasped behind his back was Wyl Trykon. His wiry frame stood silhouetted against the soft light of the view behind him. Pale green eyes gazed from beneath his officers cap at the thirty men standing in uniform before him. Trykon strode forward until he stood in the center of the bridge before he spoke.

He started with a short preamble, meant to impress upon the students the importance of this test. "Your mission today will test your understanding of ship’s systems and operations, as well as evaluate your understanding of the Navy’s motto: Loyalty, Honor, Courage." At this Ross raised a questioning eyebrow. He wondered about the last bit. Was this to be more than just a stimulated battle meant only to test their skill and knowledge?

With a quick stroke on his datapad, Trykon turned and and glanced at the viewport. The screens flickered and dimmed. In its place appeared a vast asteroid field, unremarkable except for its size.

Trykon returned to face the cadets. "What you see is known colloquially as The Graveyard, the only remains of the planet Alderaan and its people."

Gasps rose from the crowd at they realized what lay before them. Ross had heard of The Graveyard. Who hadn't? It was somewhat of a mystery to the general populace as to why the Empire had done such a thing. Whatever the reason, the destruction of Alderaan was regarded as the most atrocious act in Imperial history, worse even than Palpatine'S Order 66.

Loyalty. Honor. Courage. Suddenly these values held a lot more meaning in a situation like this.

The mission, Trykon explained, would be a reenactment of a scenario that happened seven months later to the crew of the Implacable. While stationed at The Graveyard, a civilian fleet of ships jumped into space nearby. The passengers aboard the ships had come for The Return, a memorial service for the victims of the tragedy.

A hidden holoprojector displayed a miniature representation of The Graveyard with a blue triangle as the Imperial-class Star Destroyer and the small fleet of thirteen civilian vessels shown in red. Ross watched the battle play out on the holoimage, listening distractedly as Trykon explained what happened. The red outlines of the civilian ships buzzed around the Star Destroyer, flashing as they fired on their target. The blue ship maneuvered between the red flies, retaliating against any ship that came to close. Slowly and methodically, each of the civilian ships winked out as they were destroyed. Despite being outnumbered, the Implacable had clearly held the advantage with superior fire power. Why attack then? The civilians couldn't have believed they could take on the Star Destroyer and live to tell about it. So why did they attack? Something seemed odd about what happened, but Ross couldn't figure out whatever it was.

With that, Trykon made some closing remarks, summarizing the mission and once more reminding them of the Naval motto.

Loyalty. Honor. Courage. Ross scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. May our actions prove more honourable than our predecessors.

"Take your stations!"

The cadets dispersed, quickly making their way to their respective stations. A grin crept up his face as Ross made his way to the gunners area off to the right. He felt a little giddy with anticipation. He was ready.

Master Chief Petty Officer Orryna Quors stood in front of the console before Ross arrived. She rested her weight on one foot, resting a hand on her hip. Her deep red hair pulled back tight on her head, pinned up by two sticks. The simple gray uniform she wore fit smartly over her curves. She turned and quickly caught his eyes glancing up at her.

Ross's grin broke into a guilty smile. The female Zeltron sniffed and turned back to the display.

"Ho, Orryna!" Ross said cheerfully as he approached.

"I guess they really do let anyone in Fleet School these days," Orryna said, loud enough for him to hear.

"You look absolutely stunning today," he replied, pretending not to have heard her. She rolled her head in his direction and raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am," he added. As the Chief Gunner, she technically was his superior.

That didn't stop him from antagonizing her.

"Yes, there's definitely something different about you today. It's the hair, isn't it. No? No, it's the lipstick, it must be. That's a new color. It matches your skin."

She stared flatly at him, but her expression was betrayed by the smile she tried to hide. Of course, she wore no lipstick. Her skin was the same light shade of pink as her lips, not an uncommon color for her race.

Flirting with Zeltrons was a favorite indulgence of his. Like Falleens, her species could produce special pheromones that would enhance their attractiveness. Not as if they weren't attractive already. Indeed, even simple banter with one could be quite an arousing experience.

Orryna kept her pheromone levels to a minimum however. She didn't want to cause any unnecessary distractions, especially on the bridge. Besides that, she didn't seem to be in the mood to indulge him anyway.

Before she could respond though, Captain Vorhez started issuing commands. "Bring or shields online and begin prepping our weapons system. Yuur, start hailing all of the ships. Let's see if we can't get a response out of them."

While Yuur started signaling, Orryna and Ross initialized and loaded the ships armaments.

"Maayn, what have we got?" Captain Vorhez asked.

The sensors technician paused, reading his console. "There are four transport ships being escorted by four Nebulon-B frigate's, two CR90 corvettes, a Consular-class cruiser and two Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers."

"Fourty seconds till the closest cruiser is within firing range, sir." One of the sensor technicians spoke; a Zabrak with deep brown skin and large horns crowning his head.

"I want those two dreadnaughts marked as primary targets," Vorhez said. "The frigates will be secondary targets. Any response yet, Yuur?"

"No, sir," the communications coordinator responded.

"Captain," Maayn said. "The cruisers have locked onto us. Nebulon-B frigates advancing position."

"Twenty seconds within range."

"Deploy two squadrons of fighters to intercept them. Do not engage until my command, though."

"Ten seconds."

Ross checked the display before him, flipping the switches for the forward turrets to track whatever came in range but keeping the system from firing until instructed.

"Dreadnaught cruisers within range," the Zabrak said.

"Weapons hot and ready," Ross said. "Waiting on you now." Ross paused. If the captain heard the slightly petulant tone Ross had let slip, he didn't show it. "Sir," he added sheepishly.

Vorhez gazed intently through the viewport, watching as the small fleet positioned themselves.

The two Dreadnaught-class cruisers slowly drifted closer, their paths splitting to approach the Implacable from both sides. The Consular-class cruiser sank below, moving as if to strike at the ships belly, from which the hanger was releasing its swarm of fighters on an intercept course with the smaller frigates leading the direct assault on the capital ship.

"Captain?" Ross said quietly.

A few tense seconds passed by before Captain Vorhez returned from whatever thoughts distracted him. "Yuur, put me on an open broadcast to the ships."

Nodding, Yuur punched in a command into his console and flipped a switch. He glanced back to the captain and held a thumbs up.

Captain Vorhez raised his chin proudly, eyes raised to the hidden holocam above the middle of the bridge. "This is Captain Ruyal Vorhez of the Star Destroyer Implacable. You have entered into Imperial-ruled space and are subject to its laws. Stand down or suffer the consequences. This is your only warning."

The bridge grew quite as they waited on a response from any of the thirteen ships.

Vorhez let out a breath, accepting the silence as an answer. He turned and faced Ross' direction. "Fire up the ion cannons," he ordered. "On my mark, fire on the dreadnoughts. Have the fighters—"

"Sir, signal coming through." Yuur brought up a hologram from the midpoint of the bridge. The blue shape of an older human male appeared, his flowing blue uniform with silver embroidery distinctly Alderaanian.

"We acknowledge no authority from the tyranny of those who destroyed our home world. Nor will we allow you to disgrace their resting place with your presence."

The man speaking made no attempt to conceal the disdain and contempt from his voice. His next words, however, were surprisingly calm.

"You will answer now to the injustice of the two billion deaths of the people of Alderaan."

The ships fired on the Implacable.

Word Count: 1699

Kind of a lengthy prelude. I will finish it later.
TRN | CRW Ross Jormund
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