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ComNet > Imperial Navy > Archived Naval Story Board > VEN: Out of the Invisible
 
 
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Topic:  VEN: Out of the Invisible
Serpent
ComNet Member
Imperial Baronet

 
Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  328
Total Posts:  1214
Joined:  Jul 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 11, 2012 9:25:39 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:

NPC post.  I give you an Imperial Dominion droid.


The R3 line of Industrial Automation’s legendary R-series droids were a curious experiment.  Designed with the military in mind, these astromech droids were designed to serve on Republic capital ships.  There, their detailed analysis systems and extensive libraries on many types of vessels (both Republic and otherwise) led to the small mechanicals becoming adjutants to gunnery crews and bridge officers.

R3-G3 was no exception.  Like many of his model, the orange and white droid had a transparent domed head, filled with sensors that gave him a clear idea of his chaotic surroundings.  The bridge of the Star Destroyer Countenance was a flurry of activity, but he was the veteran of enough battles to recognise the coordination and purpose behind the frenetic energy of the human crew.  He knew that it was not the living beings’ fault that they grew anxious and sweaty in times of stress, it was just a result of their inferior design.

As he observed the current situation, R3-G3 took precisely 0.03 seconds to reflect on his life.  The current Battle of Abrae, though grand, was just the latest in his long history of warfare.  R3-G3 had begun his career on a Dreadnaught under the Republic Navy, only later to find himself transferred to the Countenance once the Republic had changed into the Galactic Empire.

He remembered that event clearly.  The organics had babbled about it for days, and conducted various estimations of how much better the galaxy would be with Emperor Palpatine in charge.  R3-G3 himself calculated a high 77.374% chance that the Empire would be superior to the Republic, based on observations of the decidedly rational mind of Palpatine, and the increases of efficiency of a dictatorship over a democracy.

Indeed, the little astromech found himself 12.67% annoyed, 28.02% confused, and 59.31% surprised when the Emperor died.  His following calculations, regarding the speed of the Empire’s collapse, proved to be accurate.  He even correctly predicted which faction the Countenance would end up in.

That had been an easy calculation.  He had had a long and profitable relationship with Lieutenant, later Commander, and now Captain Alexander Rauthrin.  Rauthrin was fairly competent for an organic officer, and his behaviour had set parameters that R3-G3 found elementary to predict.  When they joined the Imperial Dominion, the little astromech had continued to be of service to the Captain.

Such as now.  Rauthrin was glaring hard at the hologram of the battle, trying to divine the next move of the Vast Empire.  The Captain had set his sights on the Halycon Warrior, an Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer of the same basic design as the Countenance.  However, R3-G3 had noted several points of difference between the two warships, such as the 0.02% difference in the shades of hull paint, and the other vessel’s 0.00034% drift to starboard during its full thrust forward advance.

R3-G3 swivelled his head to take in the hologram, though there was no need.  His scomp link appendage had been deployed and tied into the tactical display, and within his advanced computer brain the droid had a complete real-time map of the battle unfolding around them.  He had executed this monitoring function in every engagement since his creation, observing the full spectrum of the battle while his organic fellows (or ‘superiors’ as they mistakenly referred to themselves as) tended to focus only on a narrow part of the combat theatre.

And now R3-G3 could see something that the humans had missed.  The warships of the Vast Empire were subtly shifting formation, trying to turn the Countenance’s positioning against it.  While his ship fired on the Halcyon Warrior, the approaching group of Strike-Class Cruisers were moving into broadside position.  This Captain Rauthrin had seen and noted, but so far the Captain had failed to detect the Victory-Class Star Destroyer slipping into a third position.  The Countenance was about to be surrounded.

R3-G3 whistled in alarm, and used his scomp link feed to the computer to bring up an urgent message on the display next to the holoprojector.  Warning!  Approaching VSD!  He flashed up in bold red aurebesh.  The Countenance is in danger!

Of the two organics at the tactical hologram, it was not Captain Rauthrin who was within sight of the text display, but his Executive Officer, Lieutenant Detus.

R3-G3 had calculated a large number of negative statistics about Detus over the year since the young bridge officer had been transferred to the Countenance.  Firstly, Detus tended to give situations some 28.34% less thought and consideration before developing a plan than did Captain Rauthrin.  The astromech, following his programming, tried his best to correct this by offering his insight, but here Detus had accumulated an ‘ignore rate’ of some 89.91%.  These and other statistical observations had led R3-G3 to conclude that the XO did not like him.

Were it within his programming, R3-G3 would have returned the feeling in the mutual form.

Detus, utterly unaware of the flurry of figures running through the droid’s brain, glanced down at the red text, and scowled.  “I see no threat,” He said to R3-G3, blithely dismissing the astormech’s warning.

“What was that?” Asked Captain Rauthrin, stood at the far side of the table and examining the defensive patterns of the Halcyon Warrior’s starfighter escorts.

R3-G3 whistled again, louder and with more urgency, flashing up a second message.  You need to warn the Captain!  Imminent danger!

Detus snorted, and did not even glance at the droid as he responded to the Captain.  “Nothing to worry about, sir.”

R3-G3 felt a surge of programming errors and inconsistencies, a feeling that was the droid equivalent of what organics called ‘frustration’.  He quickly calculated an 88.57% chance that Detus was ignoring him simply because he did not notice the problem himself, and was convincing himself that a VSD could not menace the Countenance, rather than admit that a droid had observed what the two human officers had not.

However, R3-G3 also calculated an almost-certain 98.76% chance that Captain Rauthrin would not care about the source of the warning, as long as it protected his ship.  So it was that the droid beeped and whistled again, repeating his messages in as bold a font as the tactical computer would allow.

Finally, just before posting his seventh consecutive message, the Captain was stirred from his battle analysis.  “What is wrong with you today?” He asked in his thoughtful Coruscant accent.

R3-G3 experienced another rush of programming, this one best equated to ‘elation’.  However, it was swiftly countermanded by his simultaneous observation of the Vast Imperial warships.

They were in position.

It was too late.

The enemy opened fire, and R3-G3 once again witnessed the organic bridge crew react to the chaos with a new level of anxiousness and sweat.

OOC:

1121 words.  I wanted to continue writing about the bridge of the Countenance in reply to Drac and Trick’s latest posts.  However, rather than write about Captain Rauthrin, I found info on R3 droids on Wookieepedia, and liked the idea of a droid tactical advisor as an NPC focus character.

AAR:  On board the ISD2 Countenance, Captain Rauthrin’s adjutant droid, R3-G3, has noticed Drac’s three-pronged attack in its early stages.  The loyal astromech tries to warn his organics, but the XO, Lieutenant Detus, thinks little of the droid’s tactical knowledge, and ignores R3-G3’s warning.  Drac’s attack is sprung without the Countenance being prepared.
FO/MCPO Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][MiD][=*Eng*=]

"If the crew doesn't hate the XO, then he's not doing his job." - Colonel Saul Tigh
Echelon
ComNet Member
 
Echelon
 
[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  341
Total Posts:  546
Joined:  May 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 11, 2012 4:34:34 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
Keplar, her military ponytail bouncing about, gestured towards the entrance to the Defense Control Room, attempting to usher Echelon inward. The medical robot, which stood behind Echelon’s wheelchair, stood silently waiting for instructions. Though Echelon was being forced to go back to his post, he really didn’t want to. He was afraid of the consequences of his actions, and the events that were forthcoming. Being a Defense Officer was a very stressful job, and Echelon had been psychologically unstable only an hour ago; he was nervous about returning to the room.

Echelon silently nodded, commanding the medical droid forward. It silently began to push Echelon, but when the doors of the Defense Control room opened, he immediately regretted ordering the droid. There, in front of Echelon, was Latency, the grumpy, authoritative Defense Commander, and by the expression on his wrinkled face, he was not happy. Despite the suspense and anger in the room, the medical droid kept on pushing him forward, unaware at its patient’s regret.

“Echelon!” Latency boomed outward, “what makes you think you could just leave a post like that?!”

Echelon was hesitant to respond, knowing whatever he said would only make the situation worse, but he replied none the less. “Emotion overcame me, sir,” he managed to whisper out. Latency, who was twice Echelon’s size, was intimidating at the least. His masculine jaw and firm muscle line suppressed any rebellious emotion Echelon had. The man scared Echelon.

“Dammit, Bandoran! Emotion should not stop a military officer from his job! Do you know the consequences of your actions?!”

Echelon sunk back into his wheelchair. “Yes sir.”

“Do you know what we had to do while you were gone?”

“No sir.”

“Keplar and I had to overlook your console while doing our own jobs! The mid section of the ship was damaged because we couldn’t do your job effectively!”

“I’m sorry sir,” Echelon squeaked out.

“You better be,” he said, toning his voice down a little. “Now, get over to your console now, and you can see for yourself what your selfish actions caused!”

The last comment made Echelon especially weary. The thought that he was to blame for people’s deaths, or major injuries, or the ship’s damage made him uneasy. Latency was making it seem like it was all his fault. His emotions thank as he thought more about it, and all he could do was pray that the death count wouldn’t be high. It was all because of Helen, he thought. If it hadn’t been for her death, or even her endangerment, this never would've happened. No, he took it a step further. If he had never been in love with Helen, this never would’ve happened.

It was all her fault.

Ordering the medical droid to bring him to his station, he rolled across the floor, down a ramp, to his console, beside another two Damage Control Officers. Carefully, the medical droid helped him from the wheelchair to his console seat, minding his broken bones.

There, directly in front of him, buttons, switches, dials, levers, screens, and consoles flashed and animated, duly illuminating his pale, colorless face. He looked over to the front of the room. Keplar stood silently, nodding, and Latency looked as mad as ever, his arms crossed in frustration. Echelon returned his gaze to his control station, finding a particular screen. Hesitantly at first, he leaned in to read its display. To learn of his consequences. To learn of any deaths that were his fault. Taking his time, he slowly read each letter, whispering them under his breath. Three words, and then a number, the suspense building within each microsecond.

The screen read:
Reported Death Count: 455.

And that was possibly the hundredth time Echelon’s heart sank that day. However minutely small compared to the entire ship’s crew, he felt sorrow and guilt for everyone of those people. They each had families, loved ones, hobbies, favorite comm shows. They were people, not nameless numbers on a screen. He knew of captains and officers who had no regard for anyone’s life, but Echelon wouldn’t be that way. He would find some way to make up for the lives he lost. He promised it.

However, the sadness and emotion faded away slowly, as he realized there was work to be done. If he didn’t control the damage already going on, the death count would rise, and he didn’t want that to happen.

Kicking into action, his eyes darted about, analyzing the hordes of information being blasted at him. Several hull breaches. Fires in two sectors. Loss of gravity and electricity. As the readouts entered his brain, his hands naturally flipped switches and turned dials, attempting to make the best at the situation at hand. His left hand quickly tapped a communications button, hitching him onto a frequency in his sector. Like he had been doing it for years, he relayed to the deck officers, talking with them and coordinating with them. Closing blast doors, and rerouting power, he fixed one problem, immediately moving to the next. He punched in several numbers on a keypad, selecting a certain deck, and began pumping air into it, raising the pressure and making it accessible for transportation.

So far, he was doing well, and he knew it. Before long, the overdo list of damage and problems had dwindled, and soon, he was back on schedule.

“What are you doing, Bandoran?” Latency called out, catching him stretching in his chair.

“Sir, I was just stretching,” he replied.

“Don’t you have a whole third of the ship to fix?”

“Done, sir. Every major problem.”

“What about those hull breaches in sector 34-b?”

“Fixed.”

“How? The only operating blast door was on the other side of the sector? And that would have closed off a vital transportation junction?”

“Easy, sir. I rerouted power to the sector through an auxiliary supply line, activating the damaged blast doors, and sealing it off from there.”

The Defense commander looked stunned, as if he had been thrown out of the Atrus himself. His mouth dropped, but he quickly closed it again, not wanting to show his surprise. Clearly, he thought, there must be some mistake. This crippled Damage Control officer couldn’t be that...intuitive?

“How about the fire in deck 12?” he protested.

“I put it out. Well, suppressed it really,” Echelon happily replied, realising that the commander was noticing his skill.

“How could you have put it out that quick? No fire crew operates that fast.”
“I didn’t use fire crews.” The commander looked even more stunned, and Echelon was quick to tell him how he did it. “I got the fire crew out of there and sealed the fire off. Once I did that, I closed all the ventilation shafts but one, a one that was formerly closed that led to a depressurized deck. The difference in pressure sucked all of the air out, killing the fire instantly.”

The commander looked more flabbergasted, but instead of being annoyed, he looked thoroughly impressed at the clever officer.

“Frak, Echelon,” he said, grinning. “You’re one smart bugger.”

“Well, thanks. It was noth-” He was cut off by a loud beeping noise from his control station. He immediately returned his focus to it, trying to find the source of the problem. There on his screen, it showed Deck A1, an exterior, port side of the ship. It was flashing red, alerting him that him that it was taking severe damage. Immediately, he realized what was happening. The Super Star Destroyer Loyalty was firing all of its weapons on Deck A1 for supreme damage in that sector, a tactic Echelon knew well from Command School. The Alpha Strike.

The problem wasn’t the tactic, it was where the tactic was being used. Directly under Deck A1 was one of the ship’s shield matrices. If it was destroyed, the Atrus would lose 25% of its shielding, something that couldn’t happen.

And it was up to Echelon to stop them.

OOC:
Word Count: 1,347. Kind of a cliffhanger, and the idea of this was kind of spur of the moment. This is A LOT better post that last time, hopefully I’m redeemed. I also calculated that I’m somewhere around 25,000 words total for this story; might be more, might be less. Still, what I’m doing is a huge accomplishment for (previously) “inactive Echelon”. Hope you like this post.

AAR: The Loyalty begins to use a tactic known as the Alpha Strike, directing ALL of its firepower on one spot. This spot happens to be under Echelon’s coordination and under it lays a shield generator matrix, directing shielding power to the exterior hull, a vital spot for the Atrus. Its up to Echelon to save the day! Of course, with the help of his Defense crew.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA] [NAR] [CAR] [MC2] [BWC] [HNS] [MC1] [SWC] [=*ENG*=]
{VehM} {SfrM} {HypM} {Astr} {LogS} {Shut} {Gunn}

Hades
ComNet Initiate
 
Hades
 
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class
 
Post Number:  193
Total Posts:  1245
Joined:  Nov 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 12, 2012 12:52:11 AM    View the profile of Hades 
His fighter shuddered and the Petty Officer second class searched his insturments desperately for thew source of the explosion. Bam, there it was. A Dominion bomber had gotten the urge to blow the stuffing out of himself. Hades smirked, His choice, and his fighter was largely unaffected. It was then Hades saw another fighter much closer than his - of course, it could only be one of the former Regents. Crazy folk, even crazier than Hades and almost, one might say, to the point of stupidity. But they were damned good pilots. And the one in question was a friend to Hades - Maroy, the Twi'lek Master Chief Petty Officer.  Hades growled to himself and opened a comm channel;

"Maroy! Come in!" He almost yelled across the comm.. he received a reply.. Static. All that it was, was damned static. Frustrated, he tried again "Maroy, are you there?!" Still more static blanketing the channel between them. Hades began to fear the worst, but caught himself - her fighter was still largely intact and it showed her hull was not breached.. she was damaged, not to the point of impotency, but damaged nonetheless. Static, static, more static. It was infuriating to Hades, the constant sound almost like someone placed shards of metal in a box in his brain that constantly shook itself up.. damn it.

"H--s?" Came the static-y reply "I black-d -ut for a bit. My figh--r is hi-, b-- I think I can still fl-. Bare-y"

"Copy that, Maroy," Hades responded, able to understand - albeit barely - through the static, "I think your comm unit's damaged, I'm hearing mostly static from you"

"I kn--, same h-re" the quick reply from Maroy indicated she was still wresting her fighter under control. Hades rolled left suddenly, avoiding a burst of green laser. Damnit, couldn't a fighter jock catch a break around here? Obviously not, in the midst of a massive space battle. Duh, Hades. Then he realised what he was supposed to be doing, or rather, protecting - Darkseed squadron. Where were they? He growled and checked his sensor.. luckily they were still there.. But they were about to be in a load of trouble.

The equivalent of one whole squadron seemed to be bearing down on them, obviously loaded for bear.  "Darkseed, you got a whole squadron of Interceptors incoming. Be warned, they're not wearing friendly grins. Although I doubt it would make much difference if they were"

"Cut the chatter, fighter jock." Darkseed leader said tersely "We see 'em. Are you guys going to do something or just talk?"

"On our way" Hades responded, cutting the channel off. He clicked his comm at the other Tuk'atas, to garner their attention as he broke off to cover Darkseed. "Hades, there are too many of them for you-" Ryn began, knowing what he was doing.

"Good thing I've got wingmates then, eh?" He cut her off with a cocky grin "cover me." With that Hades pulled his fighter left, into a wide turn bringing him  to face 90degrees to the left of where he had just been. It put him on a course where he would get to the incoming Interceptors before they got in range of the bombers. Only just, though, so Hades floored his throttle, shooting past debris which he had only just noticed. When did it get so bad? The pilot thought grimly, knowing that any floating carcass out there could have been him.

He was of course, focused on his objectives and those of his squadron. That was a good thing, but he hadn't taken much notice of the battle in general. Which was a bad thing - if the Atrus went down it mean the battle was lost and Hades was probably dead.. but then again, he was fairly certain even he wouldn't miss the 19kilometer-long dreadnaught blowing into pieces. Focus, Hades! He berated himself. Beep, beep, beep, went the proximity warning - what the?! Then he saw it - the squadron had broken off into two sections, one heading on the same course for Darkseed squadron, the other..

...straight for him.


-  -  -  -  -  -

Master Chief Petty Officer Roran Jax, commanding officer of the Imperial Dominion fighter squadron 'Wingmaw', was not a friendly man. He wasn't a bad man, either, but he most definitely was not friendly. His subordinates were all scared witless of him and his punishments, and his superiors were all suspicious of him and his ambition. He was a veteran, he'd flown in over twenty engagements in his career and considered himself an ace - even if the commanders didn't feel like awarding him the honour.

"Wingmaw four, take half our strength and engage the incoming TIEs. The rest of us will take out the bombers" He relayed to the Squadron XO, as he gazed at the half-dozen or so TIE fighters that had broken off. More were breaking off, he noted, but he thought little of it. He had his orders. Take out the bombers at all costs. And he intended very much to fulfill his orders to the letter. His mentality put the emphasis on 'at all costs'.

"Aye sir, breaking off" the obedient reply came from the Petty Officer First Class. An efficient man, Jax thought, but expendable. Then again, he considered the whole Imperial Dominion to be expendable, as long as it got him to the top. Ambition was in his nature, greed was in his blood.. He looked again at his sensors and saw his orders being obeyed. Excellent. Turning his gaze mostly - after all, a pilot kept his eye on everything, sensors included - to the bombers that wanted to destroy his chance at promotion.

It was this end, to Jax, that made him take it personally. Like an attack on the Wingmaw Commander himself, it was entirely unacceptable and had to be eliminated with extreme prejudice. With this, the Wingmaw SC smirked - a cold, chilling smirk - and pushed his throttle upward. No, he was going to the top, whether anyone else liked it or not.


OOC:
Wordcount: 1,033

AAR: Hades gets onto Maroy's back, finds out she's okay. He then sees TIEs incoming toward Darkseed squadron and breaks off - without permission - to engage. Ryn yells at him and Hades puts a smart retort back at her. Squadron Commander Roran Jax is looking for blood, as is his 'Wingmaw' Squadron. A cliffhanger of sorts, on Hades' part

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Petty Officer 2nd Class Demetrius "Hades" Aita, Tuk'ata Squadron
FM | PO2 "Hades" | B-3 | S:26 "Tuk'ata" | W:58 "Javelin" | mSSD Atrus | TF:A | 1Flt | SC | VEN | VE
[MC1] [CBV] (=SWC=) [CAR] [BWC]
{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}

"Life is warfare."
~Lucius Annaeus Seneca
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Echelon
ComNet Member
 
Echelon
 
[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  343
Total Posts:  546
Joined:  May 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 12, 2012 4:37:53 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
“What is that beeping noise?” Latency called over, sitting at his own control station.

The words of his commander brought Echelon back into the frenetic reality of problems he would have to fix. Before, he was dazed and slightly bewildered by the sudden turn of events. The Allegiance-class Super Star Destroyer Loyalty was performing the Alpha Strike, a tactic that would inflict full damage upon a section of the ship by locking all of its weapons on that particular part. The section the ship had chosen was one Echelon overlooked with his Damage Control duties, and under the particular section laid one of the deflector shield matrices, a system that transferred shielding to the hull of the ship. Thus, the enemy ship had a very high chance of penetrating through the deck and reaching the vital system underneath, and it was Echelon’s responsibility to make sure that didn’t happen. The pressure was on.

Before the Atrus, before the Navy, before the Vast Empire, Echelon was a simple mercenary. The tasks he performed rarely induced stress, pressure, and/or psychological meltdowns; that all began with him entering the Vast Empire. Though, he didn’t particularly mind it. The danger, stress, and emotion was all part of the job, or at least it was for him. Echelon thought it applied to all other Navy personnel, but he was wrong. Just him. Though, originally he had joined the Vast Empire to escape the huge bounty(ies) on his head, but once he experienced it, he realized he liked making a change in the galaxy. He liked the help he was doing, and he liked the organization. It was the only thing keeping him with his job.

Thinking back on Latency’s question, he mumbled, “It...uh...that Allegiance-class Super Destroyer is performing the Alpha Strike on my section.”

Suddenly, Owen, another Damage Control Officer, butted in, “That can’t be. I’m still receiving damage in my location.”

“Are there other ships around?” Keplar asked, intent on finding the root of the situation.

“No, there aren’t,” Windhelm, the Defense communications officer replied.

“Perhaps they’re firing ninety percent of their weapons in Eche’s section,” Keplar argued back.

Windhelm, really starting to get annoyed, quickly responded, “Why would they do that? It has no point?” The argument spun off from there, everyone getting their point in. Everyone except Echelon. He sat there, quietly to himself, pondering why people would argue over something of such insignificance. There was work to be done.

“Everyone! Shut up!” he finally yelled out, a the room suddenly became bare of any noise. “I don’t care if they’re shooting everything at my section or not. They’re damaging it right now, and we need to make sure they don’t get to the matrix underneath.”

“Matrix?” someone asked.

“Yeah. A shield relay matrix.”

“How would you know where that was located?” Keplar intriguingly queried.

Echelon mentally facepalmed. “I’m an engineer. I find my way around the subsystems of the ship. But that doesn’t matter, the enemy is hitting hard, and we need to make sure they don’t destroy that section!”

“Well, how do you suppose we do that?” Lantency asked, still amazed at Echelon’s cleverness from only a few minutes ago.

Echelon was actually perplexed by that question. He was good at micromanagement for damage control, not the big picture. He really never needed to perform big picture tasks, which he immediately regretted. Surely, there was something they could do.

“You’re the boss,” he reminded. Lantency chuckled at the comment.

“That’s right, I am, but you see, I’m a leading officer. I became where I am today because I showed those who were higher up that I could lead. I’m commanding you to lead this task. You’ve already shown your skill at damage controlling, now show me your skill in leading. Lead, Echelon. Lead.”

Lead, Echelon. Lead.

The words spun around and around in his head, like a hurricane ready to burst out of his forehead any moment. Leading...can I lead. Am I competent enough? Do I have the skill, the prose? Sure I can. It’s not that hard...unless...unless I screw up. Then its my fault. I don’t want that kind of responsibility. Then again, a good leader doesn’t worry about screwing up. A good leader will stand up and fight. Will I fight? Fight, Echelon. Fight.

“Yes, I’ll fi- I mean, I’ll lead,” he stuttered out.

“Great, get to work or we’ll be dead in a minute.”

“Wait a second!” Keplar called out, standing up, “Why are you letting him lead this task?!”

“Keplar, does it look like we have time? He’s not even leading the entire Defense section. I’m just letting him command the defensive measures,” Latency rebutted. “Come on, I need to talk to your privately for a moment.” With that, Keplar and Latency entered the hall, leaving Echelon and his “crew” alone.

Lead, Echelon. Lead. Immediately, his brain spun into action, thinking of anything that could help them defend from the attack. After a moment or so of compiling ideas, he was ready to lead.

He turned to his right. “Owen,” he asked, his voice quick and precise, “You said you’re getting hit in your sector. How hard?”

Owen shrugged, looking at his screens. “Not hard. Actually, very little. Possibly only a few blasts per second across the entire bow.”

“Great, we can pull shields from your section and put them in mine.” Turning again, he pointed firmly towards one of the shield technicians. “Raging, cut three-quarters of shields from Sector Alpha and put them to Sector Bravo, Deck A1.”

“On it.”

“Owen, call for an evacuation of Deck A1. Macro, cut the gravity once everyone has left. We don’t want any extra strain on the hull.” The other officers nodded, quickly setting to their tasks. Echelon felt a sense of accomplishment flow through him. Seeing his orders kicking into action was a rewarding feeling. He could get used to it easily.

=====

Jaenus Felling sat calmly in her chair, intermediately clicking a trigger when she felt it was necessary. In front of her was a turbolaser cannon, two long barrels extruding out into the vacuum of space. When she did decide to click her trigger, a large green blast would immediately burst out of her cannons, barreling towards the Vast Empire Super Star Destroyer ahead of her. Her target, unlike most of the other gunners, was the bow of the enemy ship. It had been from the direct orders of the captain for her to do so. In return, she was supposed to alert the bridge when she detected a lack of shielding from her target. It was a simple task for a simple woman.

Then suddenly, she watched as her most recent blast slammed into the Vast Empire ship, but this time, it seemed to have slammed “harder”. Intrigued, she quickly fired again, and this time, the same thing happened. The green bolt hit the hull and exploded, but bigger than usual. It was the sign she had been looking for.

“This is Jaenus Felling to the bridge,” she said calmly into her headset, “Their shields are weakened in the bow.”

=====

“Captain,” a communications officer yelled, “One of your gunners has reported what you predicted.” The Imperial Dominion captain smiled, gazing about his bridge. It was the happiest thing he had heard all day, only a few moments earlier, his tactical plans had been foiled, but now he was on top.

“Excellent. Alert all the main crew gunners to switch their targets to the bow at 1434 exactly,” he ordered, his voice cheerful. “More precisely, have their targets be Deck 5b.” The communications officer set to his task immediately, fueling the glee in the captain even more. His plan was simple, make the alien loving scum draw their shields away to fortify a position, and then quickly Alpha Strike where their shields were weak, intensifying their damage. It was almost like playing cat and mouse.

And Echelon had no idea it was about to happen.

OOC:
Word Count: 1,352. Another cliff hanger. And yes, I’m giving Echelon the option to do something leaderlike and heroic (without godmodding hopefully), so that if say I get a promotion *cough* to XO *cough* to CO *cough*, I would have something IC for Echelon to receive a promotion for. Hopefully I’m not godmodding to much, but I’d be happy to change it if I am.

AAR: The Loyalty’s Captain uses deceptive tactics to try and inflict a good portion of damage on the Atrus. To be continued.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA] [NAR] [CAR] [MC2] [BWC] [HNS] [MC1] [SWC] [=*ENG*=]
{VehM} {SfrM} {HypM} {Astr} {LogS} {Shut} {Gunn}

DeepSix
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 15, 2012 9:21:25 AM    View the profile of DeepSix 
"Keep up the pressure", the words belonged to Ryac T'Lorr and were addressed to the rest of his Interceptor squadron, the Purple Talons - one of the more distinguished squadrons serving the Imperial Dominion. The veteran Squadron Commander had been ordered to provide support to a couple of corvettes and gunships guarding some of the larger capital ships and thus far the nimble fighters under his command had performed flawlessly, twice already preventing Vast Empire bombers from getting through the cracks and targeting vulnerable spots. The fighter escorts sent with them proved a tad more difficult to deal with but in the end those too fell, taken out either by Talon pilots or the ships backing them up.

"New contacts approaching fast", the squadron's XO announced after noticing the new batch of red blips appearing on his scanners. Even if the IFF wouldn't have painted those foreign crafts hostile their bearing alone would've indicated a high probability of being part of the VE, given the fact that the previous waves of VE forces approached and subsequently attacked in almost the same manner. The Talon pilot naturally assumed the other faction had failed to get their rather clear message the other two times and figured "the third time was charmed". The experienced pilot smiled thinking he would get yet another chance to prove the foolish VE forces wrong.

"Regroup and stay focused. We'll deal with them as we've dealt with the others", Ryac's confident voice rang through the ID comm channel inspiring those he was leading. This was the third large battle the Talons were called to fight - in the same roster configuration! Otherwise said this was the third large battle that the Purple Talons faced without losing anyone. This was due both to the skill of individual members but also the strong leadership of both Ryac and his loyal XO.

"This is... Something's wrong - they're approaching too fast for them to be more bombers", the XO noted and warned the rest of his squadron. A few short seconds later the man was adding his newest finds: "They're not bombers! They're Defenders!! I repeat, bogeys are TIE Defenders!!!" His voice wavered slightly and upon realizing it himself the officer tried concealing his surprise... and hesitation. It was not the first time the Purple Talons faced Avengers or Defenders, but usually there were only a few of those ships supporting other Interceptors or even Fighters. Engaging an entire squadron of superior fighters - that was something the Talons never attempted before. Given the cold science of numbers and statistics, the reasons for this were also pretty damn obvious...

"Calm down, we'll deal with them as we would any other enemy of the Dominion", Commander T'Lorr replied calmly before switching channels to communicate with the gunships and corvettes guarding their backs. Now more than ever their support would prove invaluable. If nothing else they would be able to at least limit the Defenders' superior maneuverability by controlling (shooting up) the space around them, thus robbing them of their freedom to move as they pleased.

"Sir, they're breaking formation!" the XO announced after watching the twelve TIE Defenders split up in four groups of three, each new group distancing itself from the others but somehow still coming straight for their intended targets. Groups of three? Ryac considered, the tactic slightly taking him by surprise. One of the great things about Palpatine's Navy was that pilots were trained to fight in such formations - lots and lots of these formations. During the Emperor's rule the Naval focus wasn't as much on squadrons but rather on wings, providing the Imperials with tens of cheap fighters and eager pilots - all of them eventually being able to defeat anything that stood in their wake.

Given the new state of the galaxy however those things changed and evolved somewhat, few being the powers still strong enough to allow themselves to risk tens if not hundreds of fighters in such conflicts. Neither the Vast Empire nor the Imperial Dominion were amongst those powers however, both military forces having invested greatly in the training of new pilots as well as the research and construction of better ships. Tactics were as such also changed to better take advantage of all of this. Ryac T'Lorr knew all of this yet he wasn't entirely sure what tactics he could and should use against the enemy squadron.

The man's own pilots were used to flying together, flying in individual flights, flying with a wingmate or even flying solo. Flying as a trio however - that was something they usually resorted to only upon losing a member. Needless to say the pilots did not fully appreciate the benefits of that formation, instead pondering firstly upon the likely implications of it. Besides, even if the Talons CO were to order his squadron to regroup in this manner the chances of them being able to deal with their opponents were slim at best. And who was to say that wasn't precisely what the enemy commander wished for? The good ol' fashioned "divide and conquer" tactic that had served military forces throughout ages now...

"Each flight is to engage the closest group. Hold your ground until reinforcements arrive", Ryac ordered in a firm tone. The reality was that he knew this was a real crappy situation for him and his men. He also knew that there was a good enough chance that reinforcements wouldn't get there in time to save everyone. Most importantly though he knew that none of that mattered. Not to him and not to the men and women serving under him. To all of them the duty to the Imperial Dominion was more important than their own lives. They were by no means fanatic about it and they were anything but suicidal... instead they were merely brainwashed by their faction's propaganda that "they were doing the right thing", "they would help create a safer galaxy", "the lives of their loved ones stood in the balance" and so on and so forth... Amazing how these repeated messages could end up making someone believe as much over the years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your... orders?" the unfriendly voice inquired after having finished reporting some interesting news. Seth Qorbin suppressed a smile after hearing Tuk'ata's SCO emphasize the final word. Normally he would've figured the alien female just choked on the word or something but given the current circumstances he knew that the Near Human was merely trying to annoy him. It would be a pointless attempt of course, albeit somewhat amusing at the same time. At least that's how the Onderonian would view it at any rate.

"Go for it", the blond human replied as calmly as ever, the tone of his voice still maintaining that subtle hint of casualness that seemed to emanate from him most of the time. This way my debt to the Mon Cal is also paid in full, Seth pondered as he remembered stealing Drac's personal starfighter in the previous huge battle he was a part of. He served some time in arrest for that little feat already but figured a little extra help now would be a more personal manner of atonement. The Onderonian still wasn't sure why Mihawk requested a squadron not from his own ISD or even the task force he was in charge of but then again the blond human didn't really care that much either.

"All other squadrons, are you in positions?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We've lost Beta-3", the Talon SXO reported grimly in the same manner he reported all other losses, except maybe the first. The pilot had already realized that this was not a regular dogfight, one in which both sides had a chance to destroy one another... not after what happened to the entire Gamma flight. The Talons broke off to intercept three of the four approaching groups of TIE Defenders just as Ryac ordered them to. They knew that fourth group could prove problematic and they weren't disappointed in believing so - the entire Gamma flight was taken out in less than a minute after being outflanked, outnumbered and outgunned. And now the menacing fighters were trying to repeat that performance with both Beta and Alpha flights.

Where are those reinforcements? Ryac wondered as he became more and more consumed with the idea that his death was fast approaching. He tried fighting the inevitable but everything seemed to indicate it was all just a matter of time. Each time they were ready to shoot one of the larger targets the enemy pilot just maneuvered out of sight. Occasional hits connected surely enough but they did not appear strong enough to punch through the shields guarding their nemesis. Worse yet was the fact that whilst they were trying to shoot down some of the superior fighters, the latter appeared seemingly out of nowhere - delivering both stunning ion blasts as well as deadly laser bolts.

"Sir, reinforcements are coming!" the XO's voice sounded rather enthusiastically. "Wait, enemy reinforcements are also approaching", the man's voice was next filled with dread, despair and lots and lots of frustration.

"Just hang in there, there's hope for us still", Ryac tried encouraging his second in command even though he did not fully believe that himself. "Ackno---" the XO's voice began but only static followed after. With his heart tightening at the thought Ryac still managed to glance over at his scanners and thus confirm that which he feared - Beta One's blip was no more. Sithspit!

Only a handful more seconds passed before the Talon SCO cursed again, this time as a result of getting an enemy on his tail. The man tried his best to outmaneuver and evade using every move he ever learned but no matter how good he was and how hard he tried the enemy seemed to just stick to him like glue. Sparks suddenly began spewing from his onboard systems and a moment later the whole ship felt sluggish and uncooperative. Before T'Lorr could fully realize what just happened an explosion rocked his ship, sending it turning out of control through the emptiness of space.

Ryac had just enough time to see a Defender fly past him before realizing he may end up a prisoner rather than a fatality after all. The ID officer was still considering the ramifications of that possibility when another Defender became visible through his viewport. The man watched the ship approach as if in slow motion, releasing four bolts of green energy that subsequently flew towards him... ever and ever closer with every fraction of a second. For the briefest moment time stood still for Ryac T'Lorr as his life flashed before his eyes, his senses stronger than ever before. With his final breath the man smiled sadly as he listened to the concert of yelling, screaming and pleading over the comms. His fingers felt numb and tired so Ryac let go of the yoke. He took one last look outside, taking in the canvas of endless black, small patches of grey and white as well as tiny bits of red and green - so frozen in time everything looked rather pretty actually.

Not bad... the man thought before exhaling and closing his eyes, in so doing allowing time to once more move forward. And forward it moved, the laser bolts hitting the damaged fighter straight on and ripping through transparisteel, circuits, flesh and bone alike before a small explosion consumed everything, leaving behind just pieces of scorched durasteel, bits of useless electronics and human remains charred almost beyond recognition.

OOC:
WC: 1930
AAR: NPC post for the most part. Decided to describe Razors destruction from the other side as well...

Also added a couple of paragraphs making Tuk'ata's new mission given by Drac official and implied something big would happen to the other squadrons in the wing.

WC/CWO DeepSix/A-1/S:412th Razor/W:58th Javelin/SSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/SFC/VEN/VE [=*TG*=]

TRN/JRN DeepSix/DJO/Training Sect/VEDJ
DarianRogue
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 20, 2012 10:20:05 PM    View the profile of DarianRogue 
Pain. The feelings running through his system were unbearable. It shouldn’t have been like this. He was supposed to be stronger. He was a pilot of the Vast Imperial Navy.
But it mattered not. This was a family matter. Or, rather, a matter between families, it seemed. And he was in pain. Being beaten within a few inches of your life by 4 thugs was not exactly painless. And the feeling of being lifted up by the shirt collar and held against the wall didn’t feel so good either. And when he felt the flat of a knife pressed against his neck, he, for the first time, truly realized how deep in trouble he was.
“Game over, Darian.”


------The Present, In Space------
Darian shuddered back to reality with a start. Thinking about that time frightened him. It was a miracle he had ever recovered physically; he still hadn’t fully recovered mentally. This was the second flashback to the same moment today.
But now’s not the time. There’s a battle going on, I shouldn’t be having flashbacks now!
He barely had time to complete the thought, as at the very moment, two fighters were closing in on the flight that now consisted of 3 people. Of the four members of Tuk’ata Squadron’s Gamma flight that left the Atrus to participate in the battle, one had been downed. Having lost his wingman, Gamma’s flight leader had ordered Darian and his wingman to form up with him. After all, going solo in such a dangerous battle was not favorable, unless you were someone like the Squadron Commander, whose survival was unfavorable.
“Everyone,” came the voice of the Gamma flight leader over the com, “split off. Two can only follow two. If you’re followed, take care of your pursuer first; if not, help one of us.”
Darian clicked his com in acknowledgement, though he wasn’t completely sure that was the best course of action, then immediately took the necessary procedure to perform a split-S. He rolled into whatever equivalent of upside-down there was in an environment where down doesn’t exist, and pulled back on the yoke to start the dive. After sufficiently avoiding any hostiles, he pulled to the right to level out, and looked above to see that the two fighters were following his flight mates. The flight leader is fairly skilled. He can take care of himself for a few more minutes. I’ll help my wingman.
Gamma-12, Darian’s wingman, was a man Darian barely knew; the most he knew was that he was a short, stout, bearded man named Roy. But it was enough.
He started to accelerate back toward the battle, while thinking back on how the state of affairs came about.

------Some Time Earlier, on the Atrus------
Darian awoke with a start. That… that dream… it seemed so real… just as real as when it actually… He buried his face in his pillow. The beds in the barracks weren’t the most comfortable, but at least the pillows were soft. It might not get it out of my head, but I should probably write this stuff down. Maybe turn it into a novel. So he took out his datapad from the small night table next to his bed, and wrote.
***

He stopped his penning of his life when he heard the angry footsteps of an unlikable Squadron Commander. Into the barracks stepped a female Zygerrian, one Darian knew to be Tuk’ata’s SC, after reading his briefing files. He knew enough about her not to attempt to anger her. He shoved his datapad onto the bed, jumped off the bed, stood up straight, saluted, and said, loudly and crystal clear, “Senior Crewman Darian Rogue reporting to your service, Master Chief.”
The near-human narrowed her eyes upon seeing him. “And what,” she started to ask in an icy, venomous voice, “may I ask, have you been doing this whole time while waiting for me? Not lazing about doing nothing, I should hope!”
“Negative, ma’am. Writing a few reports,” Darian lied. “Apparently even after completing my refresher course at the academy, there is still a bunch of paperwork to go through. Do I have permission to leave for the simulators, ma’am?”
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you go,” the Zygerrian responded in a gruff voice. “But you know the rules; if there are alerts, alarms, or anything else, report back immediately. And if you see any of the rest of your squadron, tell them to get the hell over here! And if I find out you’ve been somewhere you shouldn’t be, there will be swift punishment, Crewman!”
“Of course, ma’am.” With that, he left, but not before remembering to take his towel. It was a hard galaxy out there, and if you waned to survive, you always had to know where your towel was.

Darian really had intended to go to the simulators. Honestly! But he thought something was up. Of course I know the drill, and she should know that I know the drill. Why did she have to remind me now? Is something going to happen? So instead of going to the simulators immediately, he wandered to find an observation room.
When he finally found one, he saw something that only confirmed his suspicions. Ships. Ships everywhere, around the Atrus, more than he had ever seen gathered here. He took in the sights for a long time.
By the time he made his way to the floor with the simulators on it, the alarm sounded. Welp… time to go…
He rushed to the hangar, grouped up with the rest of the squadron, got into his TIE Interceptor, and launched. His flight leader had ordered them to hang back, cover the rest of the squadron, especially when Gamma-2 was downed. And that’s about where he was now.

***


So he was heading back to his flight, to help out his wingman. “Tuk’ata 12, I am on my way.” Darian got a click in response. He kept accelerating vertically, and began firing when within 250 yards of the bogey. He fired upon it with quad-linked lasers to bring about its swifter destruction. However, hadn’t started firing soon enough, and even with powerful lasers like these, he would not be able to destroy the fighter before crashing into it. “Tuk’ata 12, do me a favor. Dive. Quickly.” His wingman did so, and in the moment the enemy had to process this and follow after, Darian fired a proton missile, exploding the enemy fighter in a shower of fire and sparks. Darian spotted his flight leader being pursued close by, behind him, and continued his vertical climb.
When he got to a peak, he performed a vertical reverse, and zoomed down, firing upon the enemy fighter. This time, quad-linked lasers were enough. Within a few seconds, the shields were down, and the fighter was split in half before disappearing in a large explosion.

“Tuk’ata,” came the voice of the Squadron Commander. “You have new orders. Cover Darkseed squadron before and as it makes its run on whatever it will be running on.”

Darian formed back up into his flight and they made their way off toward Darkseed squadron, which seemed to already be having some trouble. Darian wanted to help his fellow Tuk’ata member that seemed to be in trouble, but there were other fighters to take care of; Darian had to follow orders foremost. For now.

OOC:
WC: 1,236
AAR: A flashback, followed by a bit of the present, followed by what happened up to now (including a horribly-portrayed Zygerrian), and catching up to the present. Horrible writing. I’m out of it. But I’m caught up at least. Sorry this took so long. As it turns out, preparing for an AP test sucks up a lot of free time.
FM/SCRW DarianRogue/Γ-3/S:26 "Tuk'ata"/W:52 "Javelin"/MSSD Atrus/TF:A/1 Flt/SC/VEN/VE (=*AE*=)
Serpent
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 21, 2012 4:09:13 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:

NPC post.  Part 1 of 3 about the Imperial Dominion’s Mistblade Squadron.

Part One: The Veteran


The thrill of victory, the rush of adrenaline that followed the kill, was like fire in the veins of Squadron Leader Jadris ‘Hellhawk’ Yaydor.  And yet years of combat flying had taught him not to savour the feeling too much, not to whoop and yell with joy as he had in his youth.  Instead the veteran pilot merely smiled briefly as his Vast Empire target vaporised before him, and then a split second later he was back on the trail of another foe.

Hellhawk, the commander and mentor to the Imperial Dominion’s Mistblade TIE Interceptor Squadron, was quietly excited to be part of the fast and furious Battle of Abrae.  Unlike some of his fellows, however, he had no real problem with the Vast Empire, any more than he did with the Imperial Remnant or New Republic or any other faction.  Jadris Yaydor was an officer doing his job and nothing more.  The Battle of Abrae was not a place to settle grudges or make them, it was just a day at the office.  Granted, an exceptionally busy day, but that was all.

It was an ethos and behaviour he had encouraged in the squadron he had carefully assembled since assuming its command a couple of years previous.  Based off the Star Destroyer Countenance, captained by the decorated and respected Captain Alexander Rauthrin, the Mistblades had gained a reputation for excellence.  It was a reputation that Hellhawk worked hard to maintain.  Every applicant for his unit was carefully selected, tested, and interviewed by both Yaydor and Captain Rauthrin.  Only the best for his squadron.

Hellhawk swung his fighter around, a spray of shots lancing past his wings and setting his shields to glowing bright as the energy dissipated against them.  A VE fighter, probably from the nearby Halycon Warrior, had crept up on his tail and was now firing like mad.

Yaydor dodged and weaved, taking his Interceptor through a continuous series of twists and turns as he slipped in and out of his foe’s line of fire.  Every near-hit just encouraged his pursuer more, and the Vast Imperial heightened his pursuit.  That’s it, follow me.  Closer, you fool, ever closer...

With the other TIE almost on top of him, Hellhawk made his move.  He made to swing port, then pulled his Interceptor hard to starboard, the inertial compensators of his craft unable to stop the blood rushing from one side of his skull to the other as he did so.  The move, risky in the extreme, did not cause him to pass out (as it would a lesser man), and the veteran pulled it off with enough suddenness as to take the VE pilot completely by surprise.

The other overshot, and in the blink of an eye, the hunter had become the hunted.  Yaydor pulled the trigger, raining bright emerald death upon his foe, and watching as a rapidly expanding fireball filled space before him.

That’s two so far, He mentally counted.  I wonder how the others are doing?

“First Flight, report in!” He snapped into his helmet microphone.

Mistblade Two, Three and Four all chimed in, present and alive.  The first of them, Hellhawk’s wingman, had gotten separated from his commander a few minutes previous, during the hasty deployment from the Countenance, and they took this chance to form up once again.

“Sloppy, Two,” Chided Yaydor.

“Sorry, sir,” Replied the other.

Hellhawk did not take time to pursue the matter further.  Two was a good man, and though leaving one’s wingman was a serious error in combat, Yaydor knew that the other would fight extra hard now to make up for it.

“Second Flight, report in!” Barked the Squadron Leader, moving on.

“Five here, sir,” Came the Flight Leader’s reply.  “All present and alive.  We have formed up with a bomber squadron and are continuing to escort them in runs against the Halycon Warrior’s shield generator.  So far we have downed three hostiles between us.”

“Satisfactory,” Said Yaydor, as moderate with his praise as he was with his chiding.  He was not a man given to extremes.  “Continue with the escort mission until told otherwise.  Third Flight, report in!”

“Nine here, sir!” Came a slightly strained reply.  “We are having trouble!”

“Be specific,” Ordered Hellhawk, an edge to his voice.

“We are trying to intercept some VE Bombers, but their escorts are holding us off.  No losses yet, but Eleven is damaged though still able to fight.”

Yaydor did not like the sound of that, and at times like this he wished he had a clearer picture of the battle.  It was all very well for bridge officers, sitting on their command deck complete with holograms and status readouts, they could see at a glance exactly how the battle was going.  In the cockpit, however, a Squadron Leader like Hellhawk had to rely on vague descriptions from subordinates.

“Can you handle it?” Asked Mistblade One.

“Yes, sir,” Came the answer, Nine’s voice holding a slight waver, indicating that he was trying to sound more confident than he actually felt.

“Then proceed,” Ordered Yaydor.  It was a simple judgement call, to put faith in his pilots or not, and he had not assembled such an elite squadron only to second-guess them when it counted.  “You all have your orders.  Good hunting, Mistblades!”

And with that order, the veteran lead his people back onto the offensive.  He took a few moments to glare at the nearby Vast Empire warship, the Halycon Warrior.  The attack had been going well so far, though no side had yet achieved any clear dominance in the battle for starfighter superiority.  Hellhawk took this analysis and mentally weighed up the good and the bad.

With had surprise and initiative, He mused.  We should have used it better. Still, with an enemy this skilled, we had to expect that they would not easily be caught flat-footed.  As long as we are fighting them to an inconclusive standstill, Captain Rauthrin has the breathing room he needs to eliminate the Warrior.  We are effectively winning.

It was early in the battle yet, and Yaydor’s squadron had a lot to do, but the stoic commander was, for the time being, an optimist.

The Squadron fought on.

OOC:

1036 words.  Part one of three planned posts about a squadron of Imperial Dominion TIEs.  Tentatively named The Veteran, The Fool, and The Rookie, they will analyse the attack on the Halycon Warrior from different angles.

AAR:  The elite TIE Interceptor Squadron of the ISD2 Countenance, the Mistblades, are on the offensive.  Their leader, Jadris ‘Hellhawk’ Yaydor, considers his team, and the attack on the Halycon Warrior.  Each Flight of the squadron has a different role, and he trusts his pilots to do their jobs.
FO/MCPO Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][MiD][=*Eng*=]

"If the crew doesn't hate the XO, then he's not doing his job." - Colonel Saul Tigh
StOrMz
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 21, 2012 8:33:58 AM    View the profile of StOrMz 
Ph'rranix remained motionless in his command chair aboard the Atrus, his face cold and emotionless. With the command deck flustering around him, the Wookiee continued to gaze at his holo screens, trying to figure out what the ID captain was planning next. Instantly, his enemy changed tactics, focusing on a single area of the ship for his barrage. Interesting, the Admiral told himself. Punching in some numbers, calculating what it would take to subdue this new onslaught, Stormz quickly came up with an answer.

[Shield Operratorr, send fourrteen perrcent morre shield to forrwarrd deck 5B,] growled the Wookiee. He wanted to keep his ship safe, his entire ship, just in case they decided to try a crazy move. [Damage contrrol, what's the status on ourr forrwarrd hull?]

"Holding steady at 98%, Admiral," replied one of the many DC Officers. A ship this size couldn't be monitored by a single individual in any station, it took several, sometimes dozens to keep this fortress active.

Suddenly, a massive blast shook the command deck, causing Ph'rranix to grab his arm rests. The lights went dark momentarily, then flickered back on. Alarms began going off as damage reports came in. [I want a status rreporrt now!] Snarled the enraged Wookiee. He'd been led straight into the trap like a mouse with cheese. [In the meantime, I want every bomberr, every TIE, and everry damn turrrret on this vessel to concentrrate on their command brride. Take out theirr communications, theirr shields, I want them obliterrated!] As Stormz glanced about the room, he noticed the crews face. They looked terrified, some of them turned ghostly white. [NOW! Get to it orr I'm going to use you as the ammunition!] Immediately, everyone hopped to. The command room became clustered with conversations.

OOC:
Alright, I posted. Now, it's time for you to all buy me a drink so I'll post again! Actually, it was rather relaxing so you all may have to suffer through more of these.
Naval High Command
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(=A=)(=^SA^=)(=ME=)(=*MAE*=)(=FOCE=)(=*TG*=)(=*ENG*=)(=*BO*=)(=AFM=)(=VM=)(=COM=)

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Echelon
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 21, 2012 1:06:22 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
In a defiant, explosive moment, all of the gunners of the Allegiance-class Destroyer switched their targets to a minorly shielded portion of the ship. The hordes of turbolaser batteries blasted away menacingly at the Atrus. Green figures of energy rocketed toward the ship, exploding violently upon impact. Though Captain Stormz had ordered shielding at the last moment, he had never expected anything of that magnitude. The oppressive amount of cannon fire overwhelmed the shields, breaking through to the hull underneath. Laser bolt after laser bolt tore through the thick metal of the Atrus, shredding the weakened structure to pieces. Though a very small and insignificant portion of the ship, one kilometer in length, it was vital to the Loyalty. Any piece of the ship they could destroy was necessary. And they were doing it quickly. Nevertheless, Deck 5b was being utterly decimated by its enemy, and it only took a few moments for the Imperial Dominion to completely destroy Deck 5b, leaving a nasty chunk out of the Atrus.

The trap was sprung, and the crew of the Atrus was about to find out.

=====

“We’re taking heavy damage in Deck 5b!” Owen, a Damage Control Officer, called out. His face was drained of any color as he watched his readouts. Echelon, who was leading the defensive, could clearly see that this wasn’t simply “heavy damage”; this was “extreme damage.” Of course, the red lights and loud beeping reinforced his hypothesis.

“What’s happening?” Echelon asked, alarmed at Owen’s dismay.

“Echelon,” Macro alerted, “We’re not taking any hits in Sector A1!”

“What the hell?!” Echelon yelled, watching Owen’s console. “They completely changed their targets to Owen’s sector, sector 5b!” Then suddenly it hit Echelon like a brick in the face. He had ordered the shielding to be taken away from that sector and placed in the sector originally under attack. Now they were attacking the partially shielded sector and inflicting ultimate damage. He had fallen into their trap. “It’s a trap! They’ve led us to take our shields away from that sector! Now they’re destroying it!”

“Actually, Echelon,” Raging calmly added, “The captain ordered me to put a bit more shielding in that sector before it happened.”

Owen exasperatedly interrupted, “That doesn’t matter! The sector is taking extreme damage and they’re already destroyed sixty percent of the hull! Do something, Eche!” Innocently, he turned to the Tatooinian man, looking for leadership and guidance. Soon, the others did too, awaiting orders. Echelon met the gazes and found a little bit of hopelessness. He was in charge, and he had no idea what to do. If he moved the shielding over to Deck 5b, they would simply move to another deck. If he distributed the shielding evenly throughout the ship, they would simply break through with enough time. There was only one thing that came to mind: the Atrus can’t go on the defensive any longer. And luckily, the Captain was thinking that as well.

“Echelon,” Stormcloak, the Defensive communications officer, relayed, “You have a message from Admiral Stormz.” Echelon’s heart sank. He knew Stormz was going to be enraged at him for letting Deck 5b be destroyed. Echelon didn’t like enraged wookies.

Feebly, he replied, “Put him on.” A short moment later, the Admiral and his translator droid’s voice were on the line.

“[Echelon,]” the Admiral began, calm as ever, “[Wherre is Latency? Why arre you incharrge?]”

Echelon stood silent for a moment. Despite the casual question, Echelon was feeling very intimidated by the powerful wookie. Somehow, he managed to mutter, “He wanted me to lead the defensive. He said he wanted me to show him I could be a leader.”

The other end was silent for a moment as the Admiral took it in. “[I see. Anyway, I wanted Latency’s opinion on something, but I guess yourrs will do. Orriginally, I thought the Atrrus was going to lay low for this conflict, just stall the Loyalty and not use up many rresources. But now I see that is not an option. They are playing rrough, so we will have too also. My plan is to destrroy theirr brridge with the Alpha Strrike, but in orrderr to do so, we need to take shielding powerr and rrelay it to our guns. This is what I want yourr opinion on: how much shielding can we take?]”

Relieved that he wasn’t being scolded, Echelon chuckled. Then he realized that the Admiral was asking his opinion on something. Something very important. If he gave Stormz the wrong amount of power, the Atrus could be destroyed. He thought about it for a moment. The Loyalty would continue Alpha Striking, and thus they would be damaged if he gave Stormz a good portion of the shielding power. However, the gunners would have more power and would be able to cripple the Loyalty easily. It would be a tough decision.

Finally, after consulting with the rest of his crew, he called the Admiral back with his recommendation. “We can give you half of our shielding power, Admiral,” he began, “But you will have to act quick. If we give them too much time to exploit our lack of shielding, we will be damaged. Cripple them quick and fast.”

Echelon heard what seemed to be a chuckle-growl from the wookie. “[A Chief? Giving me instrructions? You’rre a funny man, Echelon. I know we must act quick, and we will. Thank you, Echelon. Also, they will be trrying harrd to damage us, and it is up to you to stop them. I have faith in you, Echelon. Good luck.]” With that, the Admiral left the frequency, leaving Echelon to his orders. A sudden new surge of nervousness came over him. It was his task to stop Loyalty from damaging the Atrus. The responsibility of the task was overwhelming, and apprehension flooded his conscious. Nevertheless, he would have to perform it. And he would have to perform it well.

=====

“Sir,” a Imperial Dominion communications officer yelled, “We have completely destroyed Deck 5b.”

The captain, a tall man with a head of silvery hair, chuckled happily. His plan was working and a boost of confidence rushed through him and his crew. Pacing gracefully, he travelled to the front of the bridge, looking out of the main viewport and gazing upon the Super Star Destroyer below.

“Do you have orders?” the communications officer asked.

Scratching his wrinkly chin, the Captain replied, “Yes. I do. Direct fire upon-”

“Sir! The Atrus has targeted the bridge! And we’re being hit heavily!” a bridge officer yelled out, interrupting the captain. Stunned, he walked over to the bridge officer’s console, reading the displays.

“Frak! Why are we being hit harder than before?” he asked loudly. His Executive Officer quickly rushed over, trying to get in on the conversation.

“Perhaps,” the First Officer began, “they weren’t firing at their maximum potential.”

“Why would they be doing...unless. They were stalling us! Keeping us from attacking other ships! Frak, why didn’t I see it earlier! They’ve just been saving their power for later conflicts!” the Captain yelled out in frustration. The Executive Officer placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. It wasn’t the first fit of rage the Captain had.

“We shouldn’t worry about that now, they are directing all of their fire at out bridge, and we need to stop them!”

“You’re right. What do you suggest?”

The First Officer was quiet for a moment, thinking of possible tactics. “Well, these readouts report that they’re hitting us with bigger, stronger blasts. They must have siphoned some energy from somewhere, most likely the shields. If their shields are weak, we can destroy them before they destroy us!”

As if someone had pulled the anger right out of the captain, he smiled. The plan was beautiful except for one thing: the Atrus was trying it too. It would be a race to see which ship would cripple the other one first. A race that may decide the fate of the battle. It was a tense moment for the Captain, but he reluctantly nodded to the plan, ordering his gunners to Alpha Strike the bridge.

It was a race he couldn’t afford to lose.

OOC:
Word Count: 1,395. A post continuing Stormz and my story arc. The first part is okay, but the second part is a bit...bleh. Hope it’ll do. Also: 25th post of mine in the story.

AAR: With Deck 5b destroyed, the Atrus begins to fire all of its cannons at the Loyalty’s bridge, and the Loyalty does the same to the Atrus. It will be a race to see which ship destroy’s the other’s bridge first.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA] [NAR] [CAR] [MC2] [BWC] [HNS] [MC1] [SWC] [=*ENG*=]
{VehM} {SfrM} {HypM} {Astr} {LogS} {Shut} {Gunn}

[This message has been edited by Echelon (edited April 22, 2012 10:32:06 AM)]
Ryn
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Ryn
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 21, 2012 4:03:06 PM    View the profile of Ryn 
Nine bombers flew in perfect academy grade formation just off Ryn's starboard wing. They had maintained their grouping and reigned in their nerves as TIE interceptors from the Imperial Dominion wreaked their havoc on the Tuk'ata fighters struggling to maintain their own flight patterns. She didn't know even one of their names, yet they all were risking their necks to keep them alive so they could do some serious damage to the Countenance.

"Ryn! Break port now!"

She didn't bother checking the navigaton computer when she heard Hades urgent voice crackle over the comm. Ryn felt her body slam into the restraints as the TIE went into a barrel roll to avoid the missile lock the Dominion fighter had on her. Hades performs a fly by then opened fire as soon as he had cleared her wing. The first volley knocked out the fighters shields, the second sent debris raining on the last members of the bomber squadron.

"Thanks Hades, I owe you one."

"Just one?"

They both laughed which got a grunt in response from the Zygerrian Squadron Commander. She had been waging her own personally battle against the Imperial Dominion since they arrived. Ryn had watched the Master Chief twist their orders until the objective was unrecognizable.

Now Tuk'ata was lacking in an XO, which Ryn had to acknowledge was mostly the man's own fault for flying intoxicated. Every other mistake and screw up so far though she placed squarely on the impersonal Squadron commander.

"Kazhos, we are getting shredded out here, we need to increase our speed." Ryn knew that she would be getting a snarky reply, if she got one at all from the Zygerrian, but the point was valid. If the bombers insisted on maintaining their formation for these attack runs the squadron either needed more reinforcements or an alternate plan so they weren't sitting ducks on the battlefield. "They will break through our line and take out these bombers if we don't do something."

"That's enough chatter crewman. Enjoy the thrill of battle and stay off my comm." With a click the line was severed and Ryn could feel her anger rise.

"Of all the stupid..."

"Kathryn, keep it to yourself." Hades was speaking through gritted teeth, he had another interceptor in his sights. "She may be an intolerable bitch but she's our commander, save it for the cantina after we get back to the Atrus."

Ryn took a deep breath then pushed the throttle to get back in the fight. Time to reflect on matters was a luxury she couldn't afford in the heat of battle. She formed up on Hades wing and covered him until the TIE was a memory.

"Ryuno, what's your status?"

The targeting computer showed three green blips on the other side of the Darkseed squadron of bombers. They were still three klicks from their target, the shield generator on top of the control tower of the Countenance. It would be less than two minutes and they would be sweeping around away from the battle as they prepared for another run on the gigantic spaceship. The Halcyon Warrior was holding its own against the Imperial Dominion ship, but she knew that was survival and they needed an edge to bring victory.

"I've got sights on Maroy and to my aft is Scral, we are getting pelted pretty bad here by fighters and debris from the battle."

"Aye the debris will only get worse the closer we get to the target."

It was time to make a decision. They could do nothing and blindly follow their orders, stay in close to the bombers and act as targets for the enemy fighters to play with or they could try something else. Since Ryn already knew Sayree Kazhos was fighting her own personal demons which made her a damn dangerous person to follow into a battlefield, it was time for a change.

"Don't forget about me." An interceptor showing 'friendly' on the targeting computer screamed past Ryn's viewport at top speed then slammed to a halt near the front of the Darkseed bombers.

"Good god man, what was that?"

Hades and Ryn had to break formation to avoid running into the newcomer on the battlefield.

"That would be me, DarianRogue, any idea why our SC isn't answering her comm?"

Ryn considered several answers to the question but remembering Hades advice from earlier. "She's concentrating, you stick close to Hades and I. Maroy, Scral and Ryuno are on the starboard flank of the bombers. We are making sure enough of them survive to take out the shield generators on that big ass ship in front of us."

"Sounds fun."

Ryn rolled her eyes and clicked open the Wing comm. "Darkseed one do you copy?"

"Aye, who is this?"

"Tuk'ata three, Petty Officer 2nd Class Kerdi sir. We need you to increase speed to the target. We can throttle down some on the approach for the second run."

Time was running out, she could see that the starboard group of Tuk'ata's were engaging two Dominion TIEs that decided to make a full speed run at a the bombers.

"If we increase any more we will lose our formation and our lock on the target, Officer Kerdi."

"And if you don't your escort is going to be half disintegrated space garbage before you reach the target, your choice Darkseed one." With that she closed the open comm and switched back to the squadron channel.

"You're kinda scary when you're angry."

Ryn could feel Hades smile through the distance between them. She was about to reply when her targeting computer lit up with red dots. "Mark! We have four bogey's coming in hot."

"Yea I've got them, ready for some action there DR?"

The new member was already releasing a battle cry from his lips and speeding towards the fighters.

Hades and Ryn took on a pair of fighters that broke off from the main group towards Darkseed lead. The other two stayed on DarianRogue's tail but he seemed to be evading them for now, nor did he seem to mind based on his comm chatter.

The Dominion fighters were experienced, they matched Hades and Ryn maneuver for maneuver as the four of them zig-zagged through the battlefield coming dangerously close to the squadron.

"We need to hold them off for another forty-five seconds and Darkseed will have met their target." Hades tense voice commented.

Ryn checked her instruments and confirmed his words then yanked her controls to avoid a volley of fire from the wingman of the pair. "The bombers did increase speed, go to a strafing pattern and get closer to the capital ships use some of their crossfire to our advantage."

"Copy." Both DarianRogue and Hades spoke at the same time. Some part of Ryn had forgotten about their new pilot, but at least he hadn't forgotten to stay on the channel while he took on the two ships.

The Zygerrian was still dark on the channel but Ryn could see her green blip surrounded by enemy fighters within the engagement zone. The first fighter fell victim to the crossfire quickly as he neglected to adjust for the new threat. The second was more tricky. Ryn pushed down on her throttle and came in close to the Countenance hull. Hades, on the other hand, reduced his speed and let the enemy fighter get a missile lock on Ryn before he opened fire.

"Cutting it a tad close there, aren't we?"

"I'd save you, eventually."

She smiled then squinted as the bombers released their volley on the shield generators. They were coming about to begin the second attack run when DarianRogue's voice broke through the comm. "Got one, the other one is heading right for you."

"Aw hell." Ryn quickly adjusted her trajectory, as did the group with Ryuno, but it was all too late. The interceptor opened fire on a strafing patten and took out two of the bombers shields and destroyed another. "Shit. Maroy, Scral shoot down that bastard."

The squadron came around the other side of the Halcyon Warrior. The damage to her hull showed the toll the battle had already taken on her. Ryn didn't even want  to think about the status of the Atrus, she could only hope they would still have a functional hanger to come home to when this was all over with.

"Okay everyone lets clear the flight vector for Darkseed, then we will be coming around for another attack run. Keep things fast and hot until we get new orders. And nobody better get dead."

OOC:

WC: 1590

AAR: Tuk'ata squadron is escorting the Darkseed bomber squadron as they take care of a pest problem bothering the Halycon Warrior. They come under heavy fire and struggle to maintain their objective and their SC is not helping matters at all.

Objectives for the immediate future: escort those bombers you're supposed to and mention a few skirmishes, a few enemies taken out, maybe some damage on your side, some bomber casualties and maybe some success in their bombing run, s soon as the bombers (however many survive) finish their attack runs your SC will call you to the rest of the wing, learning that the other peops are preparing something bigger there. she'll be doing this on her own, without orders and in the process will leave the bombers unprotected as they would attempt to retreat/regroup.

got it Tuk's? get er done.

FM/PO2 Kathryn 'Ryn' Kerdi/A-3/S:26 "Tuk'ata"/W:58 "Javelin"/SSD Atrus/TF:Aurek/1FLT/SFC/VEN/VE
{VM} [MC2] [MiD] [MC1] [CBV]
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[This message has been edited by Ryn (edited April 21, 2012 9:03:46 PM)]
Echelon
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Echelon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 22, 2012 1:53:30 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
Dr. Alan Orell hesitantly looked over his shoulder to see a caravan of nurses and technicians rush into the medical hallway. With great urgency, they pushed a gurney down the hall, its wheels clicking and squeaking on the shiny, waxed floor. Stretched on the gurney lay a woman. Her eyes bleakly looked up at the ceiling, and they were pale of any color or activity. Dried blood covered the side of her face, and a nurse held a bloody rag on her forehead. It was a gruesome sight to the average person, but Dr. Orell thought nothing of it. Suddenly, a nurse broke off from the gurney and hustled to the doctor. Her green scrubs were stained with a multitude of bodily fluids.

“Doctor,” she began, her voice breaking through the heavy breaths and pants, “This new patient we believe has a concussion. She also has a small laceration on her forehead. Nothing major though. However, she’s unresponsive.”

“Do you know what happened?” Orell calmly asked.

“She’s a shuttle pilot, and witnesses say she crashed her shuttle into a hangar wall upon entry. They found her inside unconscious and with a cut on her head. She seems to be breathing normally, though. What do you want us to do, doctor?”

Silence flooded into the conversation as Orell thought. Clearly, this patient wasn’t under anything life threatening; she was just unconscious. However, she could be internally bleeding, but it could just be a bad concussion. Could he risk it? He would have to save his manpower and resources for other more unstable patients. Her vital signs were good at the moment. Still, even if she was internally bleeding, he would still have more life endangered patients.

“Put her in Tier B. Keep her where she is, and hook her up to the machines,” he finally broke out, “Have a medical droid just keep an eye on her vital signs; make sure she isn’t internally bleeding.” The nurse nodded, quickly turning about and setting off for her task.

The medical bay of the Loyalty, an Imperial Dominion Star Destroyer, was a frenetic hive of nurses rushing to and fro, patients needing immediate care, and medical droids performing the tasks the doctors couldn’t. Grey lights bleakly illuminated the blood splattered floors. The cries and yells of patients and nurses alike echoed down the metal hallways, and an atmosphere of despair and hopelessness hung amidst the patients as they realized their probable doom. However, the crew that inhabited the hallways of sorrow and pain were there to help. The nurses and doctors would try their best to save as many lives as they could. However, despite performing at the best of their abilities, they wouldn’t always be able to save lives. And doctor Orell was about to find that out.

=====

Keedo Getk’a, a rodian, casually walked down the hall, on his way to fix a starfighter. His green, bubbly skin stood out next to the dull, metal walls, and his squeaky voice was something to be heard. Nice, kind, and funny, the rodian was loved by all of his coworkers, and he knew how to please them with jokes or kindness, but after this day, there would be no more of that, and sadly enough, he didn’t know it was coming.

Suddenly, as soon as his boot hit the floor, a huge blast smashed through the ceiling above him, sending fire and debris in all directions. The shock wave blew him backwards, crushing his lungs, followed next by an immense tsunami of heat. His green skin curdled and blistered at the burns, sending whips of pain through his nerves. Metal fragments came last, digging deep into his skin and severing any arteries they could find. However, all three waves were within a millisecond, and he couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

There he lay, barely conscious, his skin rippled with burns and scars, and metal fragments pierced deep into his flesh. Trying to breath, he found it difficult. The initial shock wave had decimated the air inside of his lungs, causing them to collapse. Then, a new pain entered the ocean of discomfort: his leg had been blown off. Just the thought of it made him finally go completely unconscious. He was going to die, and he knew it.

Suddenly, the echoing of footsteps filled the hallways, and a team of three people were rushing to Keedo. They quickly picked up his mangled body and carefully placed it on a gurney before rolling it down the hall. As they did so, the nurses began tourniquet his leg, trying to stop the heavy bleeding. His right femoral artery had been ripped off, and it was continuing to squirt litter after litter of blood. If it wasn’t blocked, he would bleed to death. Quickly after finishing the tourniquet, the nurse pulled out a datapad and quickly aimed it around Keedo’s body. After a moment or two of doing this, she handed it to another nurse who looked surprised at the results. It was a handheld X-ray, and they were examining the pieces of metal scattered about his body. There were a lot. Nevertheless, he could be saved, or so the nurses though. Finally, after a moment or two of rushing down the various hallways of the ship, they made it to the medical bay.

=====

Frak. Those were the first thoughts of Doctor Orell as he viewed the new patient, Keedo. Blood drenched the gurney, especially where his leg lay, and his burns were as repulsive as they were painful. His breathing was shallow, and he often coughed, spitting up blood and other fluids onto his chest. In short, Keedo was far from the happy, joyful man he once was.

“Doctor,” the nurse stated as she came up to him, “He’s lost his right leg, but we have a tourniquet on it now. He’s suffered 2nd degree burns, and his left lung is collapsed. There are about ten pieces of shrapnel scattered about his torso, some more in his limbs, and his blood pressure is dropping dramatically as we speak.”

“Alright. Get him to the operating room now, we’re going to amputate that leg,” the doctor ordered, heading off to the OR. Quickly washing his hands, he passed through double doors and entered the operating room, which was as corybantic as the medical bay outside of it. Anesthesiologists rushed about carrying tubes and operating technical equipment, nurses sterilized Keedo, and X-rays were put up on the walls.

Orell strode towards the patient, observing his mangled leg. “Alright. Let’s begin. Scapel,” he demanded, grabbing at the tool that was handed to him. Slowly, he began to cut the skin of the leg, a few inches above where the wound was at the knee. As his utensil severed the green flesh, blood pooled up only to be quickly sucked away by the assistant surgeon. Orell worked cautiously, but fast. He knew that if he was too slow, Keedo would die of blood loss. Soon, he had finished cutting the skin, saving a little for wrapping around stub later, and he began to slice at the muscle. It was almost like a hot knife slicing through butter; the surgical tool was extremely sharp and had no problem severing the muscle. Only a moment later, he was at the rodian’s femur, harshly cutting at the bone with a saw. White dust began to accumulate at the slice, mixing with blood. Suddenly, Orell finally broke through the bone, finishing the amputation. Quickly, the nurse handed him an electric cauterizer, for closing off the open veins. The doctor skillfully used the tool, rubbing it on the red stub and causing the capillaries and vessels to turn black for the immense heat.

“Someone fix his lung,” Orell ordered, “I’ll finish sewing up this artery.” Grabbing at a needle and thread, he flicked down some goggles, allowing him to see microscopically. Leaning in for a better view, he began to gently sew at the blood gushing tube. Stitch by stitch, he slowly closed off the vital bloodline, keeping the blood inside of Keedo. Confidently, he closed off the last stitch, and congratulated himself for saving this man’s life. But he was far from wrong.

“How’s that lung coming?” Orell asked.

“Fine, we’re regained pressure, and Phillip is already working on getting the metal fragments out,” a male nurse replied.

“Excellent. How’s his blood pressure?”

“Low, but it’s gaining. I think he’s going to make it.” The doctor smiled. It was the reason he loved being in the medical industry: saving peoples lives.

“Here, let me help with those metal fra-” Suddenly, he was cut off by a loud beeping noise. “What’s wrong?”

One of the nurses rushed over to his heart monitor, touching and manipulating the screen. “His heart rate is dropping...ah, shit. It stopped!” Confused and dazed, Orell rushed over to the machine, observing the strange readouts.

“What the hell? He’s going into cardiac arrest! I thought his blood pressure was gaining?”

“I don’t know, doc. Unless...” The nurse's voice trailed off, realizing what had happened.

“...unless,” Orell replied, quietly, “a fat emboli broke off, blocking his heart...” A fat emboli was essentially a piece of marrow from the bone. Often times after severe trauma, embolisms would break off, resulting in cardiac arrest or strokes. There was nothing Orell in his team could do. Only let Keedo die.

“Alright,” Orell solemnly stated, “Let’s return to other patients...this one had no hope...” Disappointed that he didn’t save someone’s life, he left the OR, returning to other patients.

It would just prove how quick something disastrous could happen. There they were: absolutely certain that they had saved this man’s life, but yet, a small piece of fat blocked his heart, killing him. It was sad and ironic. But sadness and irony would always be in the medical profession. Despite Keedo’s tragic end, Orell and his team would save other lives that day.

Keedo would just be another nameless patient...

OOC:
Word Count: 1,670. Meh. Started good, but kind of gets bad towards the end. I kind of rushed the end too, so blarg. I wanted to do something “sciency” and “medically”, so I tried. Didn’t work out as well as I thought it would, but oh well. At least I tried! I thank my mom for help on this. She gave me medical ideas and facts (she’s a nurse), and I couldn’t have done it without her.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA] [NAR] [CAR] [MC2] [BWC] [HNS] [MC1] [SWC] [=*ENG*=]
{VehM} {SfrM} {HypM} {Astr} {LogS} {Shut} {Gunn}

Trykon
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Trykon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
April 23, 2012 4:41:07 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
"Signal the Trenchant: abort attack, and withdraw.  Acrimonious and all fighters are to support them."  Trykon tried to keep his tone even and his facial expression neutral as he relayed the orders, but he suspected that his disappointment was not so easily hidden.  "We'll have to keep up the pressure on the Countenance alone."

As the other cruisers turned away, still on course to land boarding parties on the Loyalty, but now with their vulnerable bows protected from the Countenance's punishing retaliatory fire, Trykon had to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from cursing aloud.  Even without Surprise's sister ships, the Dominion Star Destroyer was under a withering barrage, but Trykon knew that even the combined firepower of three Vast Imperial capital ships would not be enough to completely destroy Countenance.  As frequently happened in large fleet actions, the situation had changed before the killing blow could be administered.

Still, the intervention of Trykon's task force had undoubtedly helped even the odds between the Countenance and the Vast Empire's Halcyon Warrior, even if it had not summarily decided the contest.  That's some comfort, anyway, Trykon thought to himself, as the Countenance began to roll away along an escape vector.  Now, to my mission.

"All ahead flank!" Trykon barked, turning from the viewport to sweep his grey-green eyes across the crew pits.  His people were busily attending to their duties, but in a measured, professional way.  Trykon nodded in subconscious approval.  "Ms. Blondeau?"

His Executive Officer looked up from over the shoulder of one of the gunnery coordinators and nodded.  She exchanged a final brief exchange with the officer, and then paced quickly over to Trykon.  "Sir?"

"I want Surprise out ahead of the task force, and I want us to draw as much fire from Loyalty as possible.  Try to put us on the same plane as the leading edge of their superstructure: we'll be in range of their topside guns and their ventral batteries, all at once, with direct line-of-sight to their bridge... too tempting a target to pass up.  We'll maintain that orientation for as long as we can, and roll the ship to present them with different facets of our shields.  Hopefully, it'll be enough time for Acrimonious to storm the main hangar, and for Trenchant to land troops in the forward hangar."

"Aye, sir!" she said, her slight smile betraying her excitement.  Trykon couldn't help but smile too, as she left to relay his orders.  He nodded again, and turned back to the viewport.

The Loyalty loomed ahead, nearly filling the view.  Behind her, the vast bulk of the Atrus could be seen, maneuvering sluggishly.  Between the two ships, space was filled with energy blasts and projectile weapons, as the Super Star Destroyers dueled to the death.  But the terrible display of firepower only underlined the importance of Trykon's mission.  For, if the Loyalty were destroyed, all those guns would be silenced, sure enough.  But if Trykon could successfully escort Trenchant and Acrimonious until they dispatched boarders - if the Vast Empire could actually wrest control of Loyalty from its Dominion crew - then all those guns could be turned on the enemy.  Destroying the ship would help win the current battle, but capturing it could help the Vast Empire win every battle to come.

"These are the moments from which History is made," Trykon murmured, and as he watched from the bridge of Surprise, the three tiny Strike-class Medium Cruisers of his task force knifed through space towards the Loyalty's underbelly, to rendezvous with their collective destiny.

OOC:
593 words.  Saved the Countenance from destruction for further play, Serpent/Drac.  At least for now.

AAR: My cruiser task force breaks off after shields are brought dangerously low.  The Countenance therefore survives, but is still forced to withdraw a bit.  We push forward, about to land troops on the Loyalty, the ID's SSD.
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SCAP/LTJG Wyl Trykon/SMC Surprise/TF:B/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
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[SoA][SoV][BWC][NSM][E][NAR][HNS][DSM][SWC][1NS][VC:B][LoM][VC:S][NC]/(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)

TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
Echelon
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Echelon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 1, 2012 6:33:11 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
It was almost as if hell had poured into the Vectra system itself, and if it had, no one could tell the difference. The previous statement was proven even further if one looked at the raging conflict between the Atrus and the Loyalty, both Super Star Destroyers. The massive ships were side by side, each slowly coasting next to the other. Their massive display of pure size and ferocity sparked a sense of fear and apprehension from the littlest TIE pilots, to the most experienced ship captains. The two ships were avoided at all costs.

With guns blazing, and engines roaring, the battle ground was filled with flashes and pulses of light, which contrasted the ever present dark and dull aurora casted from the machines of war. However, with each burst of light came the destructive consequence from the omnipresent cannons. Each blast slammed into the ship in front of it, either tearing through the hull or dissipating against the shields, sometimes a mix of both. These blasts were aimed at the ships’ bridges, vital command positions, and it was a race to see which bridge would give out first. A race that could change the face of the galaxy, for the better, or for the worst. The crews of such ships knew it. If the Atrus was defeated, the Battle for Vectra would be most likely be lost, allowing the Imperial Dominion to destroy the Vast Empire, effectively changing the galaxy. If the Loyalty was defeated, the Vast Empire would win the battle, eliminating the Imperial Dominion threat once and for all. And it all came down to this petty, miniscule race. It came down to every individual turbolaser blast. It came down to the crew, their choices, their mistakes, and most importantly, their desire to win.

And that was what the Atrus led in: the desire to win. It was present in each and every one of the crewmembers. Whether or not the Vast Empire was their birth territory, it was their home; it was what they believed in. It was the drive that led them forward - the drive to win. There was no greater power played in this battle. The drive to defend the Vast Empire was what kept the crew members going, and surely, it would win the battle...

Despite this underlying message, the crew members would still have to be skillful in their tasks. One of which, a certain Damage Control Officer, was faced with a tremendous task before him. His commander had ordered that he lead the defensive, despite his squeaky protests. It was up to him to command the defense crew and keep the Atrus’s bridge intact, even though the entire armament of the Loyalty was targeting it. Surely, it would be a difficult task, but he had the skill and knowledge to do it, or so he hoped.

As the ship’s crew knew, the Atrus had thousands more guns than the Loyalty, and in this race to destroy the bridge, it would win easily. But, the Loyalty’s Captain was clever. His ship, much more nimble than the larger one, had skillfully positioned itself behind the Atrus, allowing only a fraction of its guns to aim. The Atrus also didn’t have the power to turn itself around, for it was directing almost all of its energy to its weaponry. The sides were even for now. And the aforementioned Damage Control Officer realized it. His name was Finbar ‘Echelon’ Bandoran, and he was beginning to feel nervous about the new news.

Though slightly exaggerating, he realized that the fate of the Vast Empire laid on his shoulders. If he failed, the bridge failed, leaving the Atrus operable, but disoriented. In turn, that would possibly lead to the loss of the battle, which meant the loss of the Vast Empire. And it would all be Echelon’s fault - or so he thought. In reality, though, there were plenty of situations just like this. In short, the fate of the Vast Empire lay on the shoulders of every crewmember. War is a team sport.

Echelon stood nervously in the center of the Defense Control Room, quickly analyzing the problem and looking for a viable solution. Around him, the room was in a craze. The other officers and operators rushed around viciously, jabbering, praying, and thinking to themselves, doing so very loudly. Echelon, who was feeling more stressed than all of them, tried to block it all out. He needed to think. However, the noise was creeping in, and soon, he wasn’t able to think.

“Everyone, quiet!” he suddenly burst out, frightening them all. “I’m trying to think! I’ve got a few hundred guns aimed at our bridge! Aimed at us!” The room fell quiet as the crew looked at Echelon. “Now, if you have any ideas on how we can stop this offensive, by all means say something!”

He looked around, hoping to find someone who had an answer to this problem. Suddenly, Owen, another Damage Control Officer, shot his hand up. “Well, we need to come up with the shielding, right?” he asked.

“That is correct, Owen. They will eventually knock our shields down at this level. We need something else to stop them.”

“Perhaps take some of the ray shielding? After all, they aren’t firing missiles,” another officer stated.

“Good idea, that’ll work, but still. We need all that we can get. Where the hell is Latency anyway? He hasn’t come out of the hall?”

“Actually,” Keplar, the lead Damage Control Officer began, “When he brought me privately out into the hall, he told me that he wasn’t feeling well at all. That whole thing about leadership: a cover up. I guess he didn’t want to look weak in front of you.”

“So that whole thing he said about me being a leader...?”

“Fake.” The words slammed into Echelon’s heart, cutting away at his morale like a bantha with grain.

It was all fake? Just a cover up because he wasn’t feeling well? I thought...I thought he saw something in me...I thought he saw leadership in me...but no? Keplar must have seen Echelon’s facial expression because she immediately said something to make him feel better.

“Well, he left because he wasn’t feeling well, but he chose ‘you’ to be in charge! Not me! He must have seen leadership in you.”

“Would you like to lead this defensive, Keplar,” Echelon muttered out, knowing that she probably should be the leader.

“Of course not, Echelon! By Coruscant, you’ve already impressed the hell out of me! Now, you’re wasting time! Get to work!” That bit made Echelon feel a little better, but he realized that he shouldn't be worrying about himself, and that it was time to get to work.

“Alright! I want a status report now!” he called out, feeling an extra burst of confidence.

“Shields holding at seventy three percent. Dropping at a rate of one percent per minute.”

“Damage?” he asked again.

“None so far, just some heat abrasions.”

But suddenly, a small thought entered his conscience, sparked by the word “heat”. At first, it was disregarded. Nothing more than rubbish, but soon, he realized that it was a great idea. No. A brilliant idea.

It was simple. The bridge was a very small portion of the ship. The amount of blasts that slammed into it would generate a huge amount of heat, which would weaken the hull, causing further damage. To prevent this, there was one thing he could do and it would only buy time: partially vent the hallways, turbolift shafts, and unnecessary rooms in the bridge tower. That would in turn cause a strong wind to sweep through the bridge tower, hopefully shifting the heat around enough to cool the hull. It was an insane plan that was born out of necessity, and he hoped it would work...

OOC:
Word Count: 1,348. I said I would post today, and I have. Continues the story arc while allowing Stormz to play with the story however he like. I have Crest to thank for helping me with the last part. Together, we brainstormed and figured out a plausible plan for cooling the bridge (hope it is plausible).

AAR: The Loyalty has positioned itself behind the Atrus and is Alpha Striking its bridge. With its power directed towards weaponry, the Atrus can’t turn around to perform a full on attack.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

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Trykon
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Trykon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 2, 2012 5:37:04 AM    View the profile of Trykon 
Meerak Laroy wasn't eager to die for the Imperial Dominion, but then again he wasn't exactly bashful about killing for his faction, either.  And so, when he drew a deep cover assignment aboard a Vast Imperial warship - the Strike-class Medium Cruiser Trenchant - he knew immediately that he wanted to be a saboteur much more than a suicide bomber.  And so, for almost a year, he had carefully prepared for this day.

His cover identity was Meer Loy, a dim-witted Outer Rim yokel who was surprisingly talented as a cook.  He'd slipped into the character's persona easily enough, and quickly endeared himself to the crew.  Playing on their sympathies and their stomachs, he soon had them proverbially eating out of the palm of his hand, and none of them objected to his frequent off-duty walks through the ship.  Eventually, he began to ask politely to see the stars through the hangar, feigning a childlike wonder and an ignorance of how magcon fields worked.  The idiots granted him access.

And to repay their kindness, Meerak had slowly but surely smuggled Detonite plastic explosive aboard, one tiny shaving at a time.  And eventually, after multiple cruises and patrols with leaves in between, he'd amassed enough of the deadly substance to craft twenty individual three-gram charges.  When he received word that the Dominion was coming, he placed these bombs in strategic locations around the Trenchant's main hangar, over the course of two standard weeks.  They were all simply constucted and well-hidden, and finally, at the climax of the Battle for Abrae, they were all ready, waiting only for him to press a single button on his comm unit before they would detonate, ripping the hangar to shreds.

The only tricky part would be timing the blast to do the most damage.  If he blew the charges early, he would still destroy the hangar and shuttles, and prevent boarding operations, but many of the Vast Imperial troops might not be in the killing zone yet, and Laroy didn't want to leave any of the fearsome enemy combatants alive for future aggression against the Imperial Dominion.  Worse yet would be if he waited too long, and most of the boarding craft had launched when the explosions went off.

That thought was enough to trigger action.  Meerak surreptitiously glanced down the hall, at the other guard posted to the deck.  Like "Meer Loy," the other man had been deemed incapable of any but the most basic tasks, and so, like Meerak, he was guarding the crew quarters in case the Trenchant was boarded.  In theory, the pair of them could respond to any incursion, anywhere aboard ship, but in practice their assignment was just a way to keep them out the way of more competent personnel during crises.  Predictably, the other man was leaning against a bulkhead, looking thoroughly bored.  But critically, he wasn't looking in Meerak's direction.

And so, with one final breath, the Imperial Dominion saboteur pressed a button, and in an instant several hundred Vast Imperial troopers, officers, and crewman were immolated.

But Meerak Laroy, for all his planning, had miscalculated.  The fireball that engulfed the hangar was accompanied by twenty powerful shockwaves, the combined force of which proved to be too much for the modular cruiser to withstand.  The Trenchant's bow literally ripped itself apart, and in a spectacular chain reaction of explosions, every individual module that made up the ship was severed from all the others.  Ten seconds after his successful sabotage, Meerak Laroy became a suicide bomber after all.

OOC:
590 words.  About time we started playing with the idea of the enemy among us, no? 

AAR: An ID saboteur blows up the main hangar on the Trenchant, one of our Strike-class ships being used as a troop transport.  But the explosions are too powerful, and end up destroying the entire ship, including the Dominion agent.
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CNT/LTJG Wyl "Trick" Trykon/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

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TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
Drac
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Drac
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 4, 2012 9:16:31 PM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac watched calmly as fire washed across the outer deck of his ship. The Countenance, though almost hidden by the torrent of fury and fire being poured out on it by his command, was giving back all it could. And considering that it was an ImpStar Deuce, it could give quite a lot. ‘No battle plan succeeds without cost,’ Drac thought to himself, ‘But in a moment we will ensure that most of the cost is paid by our enemies..’

Moments into the attack the Mon Calamari noted the shields failing on the Trenchant, and then its swerve away from the Countenance’s fire. He nodded ever so slightly. It was a good decision. He regretted the loss of the Trenchant’s firepower, but the ship was no use to him as a burned out hulk- and a burned out hulk it would become if it’s delicate structure was too long exposed to the ImpStar Deuce.

Then the hammerblow fell. The Captain watched as the TIE Bombers swept in and unleashed a tide of fury against the Imperial Dominion ship’s flank before banking away. The last four projectiles swept through the weakened shield and gouged gaping holes in the ship’s hull, blackening its paint for dozens of square meters. The ship seemed to stutter for a moment, then the next incoming shots to hit the affected area lit up a renewed energy shield.

Dead Gun unleashed her fury on the unsuspecting enemy.

Drac smiled, a small and fierce grin.

Countenance’s stern lit up with light and fire as warhead after warhead slammed home.

Silence reigned for a moment on the bridge of the Halcyon Warrior as the crew watched the immolation of the stern half of the enemy ship. The weakened and redistributed shields failed almost instantly, allowing arcs of raging fire to surge up and enshroud the command tower from behind. Chain explosions crackled across the massive ship’s hull, and secondary interior detonations spewed debris into the void from a dozen different points of her bulk.

The enemy capital ship’s engines were awash in an inferno of violent energy, wreathed in electrical discharge and spewing plasma. Durasteel glowed bright orange and ran like water. Onboard more than one out of every eight crew members died within a span of fifteen seconds. Most never knew what hit them, and none had time for more than a quick pulse of terror and a mercifully short but fatal agony.

And still the ship did not die. The fire from Countenance slackened, then picked back up to about eighty percent of its previous quantity. Her shields fluttered faintly, re-establishing themselves in patches that spread slowly. Even her engines, still spewing fire and molten metal, continued to propel her- albeit at a much reduced pace.

Mihawk grunted in surprise, aware that Serpent would hear but knowing the rest of the crew was too far away to notice, and muttered, “A tsunami’s first wave is not always the one that kills you. Still, I had expected that maneuver to finish Countenance outright.”

Zail’s mouth quirked, “Sir- perhaps you expect too much. It was not a killing stroke, true, but the maneuver was still brilliant.”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” Drac stroked at his barbells for a moment, then turned and spoke in his usual command tone, “Sensors! Give me an update on Countenance.”

Pherik’s startled oath was not the response the Mon Cal had expected to get, and he turned quickly to see what had caused the man’s consternation. His eyes narrowed in anger at the sight that greeted them. Trenchant, now shielded by her sister ships, was nonetheless flying apart. Chain explosions ripped whole modules off, pushing them out to spin wildly into oblivion as the ship literally came apart at the seams. “What happened? Which ship hit her?”

Serpent frowned in reply, replaying the scene in his head as if something didn’t add up, “Captain…none of them did. Trenchant wasn’t under fire when she blew.”

“What killed her, then?”

“Perhaps catastrophic failure of the energy conduits supplying her guns? I’m not sure, sir. Whatever it was, she blew up on her own.”

“Kriff. That’s just what we need,” Drac cursed quietly. Then he hit the comms button that was still queued to the Surprise, “Trick. Forget the Countenance. Get your ships over there and board the Loyalty before we lose every Marine in the fleet! We can’t afford to lose another transport.”

Drac wasn’t facing the holoprojector, so he didn’t know whether Trykon had addressed it or not- nor did he care. The man’s voice conveyed his surprise and consternation quite well enough. “Aye, sir.  Coming about.” He paused, “Sir…my Sensors officer picked up something strange about the detonation. I’ll pursue the matter and report to you once I’ve found something.”

“Please do. Carry on.”

“Captain!” The voice belonged to one of the Sensors officers, and the man called out loudly above the noise of the bridge, “Sir, the Countenance is launching escape pods.”

“Is she?” Drac turned to examine his ship’s foil in this dance. Indeed, tiny craft were jettisoning from her hull at irregular intervals. He winced as one pod, blasting out of a damaged section of the ship, glanced off a twisted plate of hull armor and was spun to a spectacular death against another large chunk of debris nearby. “What happened?”

“One moment, sir…”

A minute or so passed before the man called for Drac’s attention again, drawing him away from a report about supplies of missiles to reload the fighter craft, “Captain Mihawk. It appears the Dead Gun actually did kill Countenance.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. We’re reading an escalation of energy output from her engines due to containment breaches. It appears they couldn’t contain the damage and it began to cascade. Various systems and subsystems appear to be experiencing total system failures- including a failure in their Environmental Control system that’s dropping the interior temperature to match that of the ship’s exterior. Readings show most of the ship is no warmer than negative five degrees Celsius and dropping.”

Drac thanked the man, then regarded his tactical screen for a moment, “Fleet orders: press the gap. Let’s try and cut Loyalty’s escorts away from her. If we can cut them off from her and manage to take the ship we’ll be perfectly positioned to prevent a counter-boarding.” He notably didn’t mention that if they failed to take the ship they’d be sticking themselves directly between two very well armed hostile forces.

When he looked out the viewport, Serpent again at his side after running off to check something, time seemed to slow for Drac. It was curious, but he somehow felt that this moment was the crucial point- the tipping point of the entire battle. Tryk’s group was literally seconds from boarding, having managed to carve holes in the SSD’s shields. Atrus and Loyalty were both doing their best to kill each other off, Alpha Striking each others’ bridges with everything they had. The remainder of the enemy forces were either heavily engaged or still attempting to cope with the loss of Countenance.

In that moment of clarity Drac had an insight, “Serpent. Locate the Loyalty’s auxiliary bridge and transmit its location to the boarding parties. They’re to make it their primary objective.”

“Aye, sir. But why?”

Drac pointed, “Unless I miss my guess, Atrus will win the race to see who turns whose bridge into a crater. When that happens, the auxiliary bridge will automatically take over all functions of running the ship- and it’s both closer to our boarders and less heavily guarded. If they can take it and then lower the atmospheric pressure in the rest of the ship, they can force its entire crew to fall unconscious. Without the Trenchant’s Marines we don’t have enough boarders to hold the auxiliary bridge against a counter attack- Loyalty carries far too many stormtroopers. But if they’re asleep, they can’t exactly argue with our possession of their ship. They might still have to worry about some pilots and anyone who can grab an oxygen source and MagCon field, but it’ll be a lot less suicidal for our boys.”

OOC:
Word Count: 1,355

AAR: Countenance is struck by Drac’s trap and begins to die slowly due to cascading system failures, with her engines in danger of going critical and detonating. Drac reacts to that and to the death of Trenchant, then orders Trick’s group to board immediately and head for the Loyalty’s auxiliary bridge.

Orders:
Starfighter Pilots: Engage enemy starfighters- it’s safe to assume someone’s going to take offense to our attempt to board their flagship. I need you guys to discourage them from expressing their displeasure.
CapShips: Maneuver to form a screen between Loyalty and her escorts. Continue firing at both. And remember- that won’t be an easy feat. They’re called escorts for a reason.
Atrus: You guys keep on keepin’ on as you’ve planned in regard to smashing up Loyalty a bit.

If you have questions, hit the discussion thread or shoot me a PM.
TFC/CAPT Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Chief of Naval Warfare
CNW|Captain Drac|NHC|VEN|VE
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."
Echelon
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 6, 2012 5:25:39 PM    View the profile of Echelon 
Three hundred. The number of turbolasers that the Atrus could fire at the Loyalty, the rest were out of sight of the massive ship. Three hundred. Perhaps a large number of weapons for a corvette, but this ship was no corvette. It was an Allegiance-class Star Destroyer, the Imperial Dominion’s muscle for its fleet. Could three hundred turbolasers destroy this ship’s bridge? Could they defy all odds and save the Atrus’s own bridge? Could they save the day for the Vast Empire?

Such thoughts were common with Tactical Officer, Jasuph Henry, in charge of the Atrus’s offensive tactics. His posture was ever changing, constantly moving and tweaking his arm and leg positions, the sign of someone who was nervous. Indeed he was nervous, but that was not the reason for his unstoppable movement. That was simply his normal posture. Jasuph acted this way on the bridge, talking over the battle with Captain Stormz, suggesting tactical measures. The Captain thought oddly of his Tactical Officer, and he noticed his strange movements, but he didn’t interfere. Jasuph was brilliant at his job, and the Admiral wanted to keep it that way.

“As you can see here,” Jasuph pointed out, showing the captain a diagram on a screen, “Deck 31c has a better sight on the Loyalty’s primary communications. If we increase power for them, we can impact more damage.” The Captain stared at the screen, considering what Jasuph was offering.

“[No,]” the Admiral replied. “[We must destrroy theirr brrdge firrst! No theirr subsystems!”

“As you say Captain. But please consider my other suggestion.”

“[Which was?]” the wookie grunted, his translator droid making it easier for the human to understand the unintelligible roars and growls.

“To have our primary armament switch off their targeting computers. We could then transfer the extra power to our cannon fire,” Jasuph replied, crossing his arms, uncrossing them, then putting them in his pockets.

“[Will they be able to hit theirr tarrget?]”

“Our skilled gunners should have no problem. It is the less experienced ones I’m worrying about. It might be worth the risk.” The wookie thought again, scratching his hairy chest.

“[Leave it to the Deck Commanderrs to decide. They’ll know which gunnerrs are best suited and which arren’t.]”

Jasuph nodded, saluting. “Thank you Captain.” Then, just as the Admiral was about to walk away, Jasuph stopped him, asking, “Captain, what do you feel about the defensive part of this conflict?” The Captain turned back toward him, standing tall and intimidating. “Because I hear our Defensive Commander is out ill.”

“[Yes, he is,]” the wookie replied, “[The fate of ourr brridge is in the hands of a Chief Petty Officerr.]” Jasuph’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened.

“You must be kidding? A Chief Petty Officer is in charge?”

“[A cerrtain Echelon, Jasuph, but don’t let his rrank deceive you. He is strrong willed and cleverr. ]”

Jasuph nodded, still unsure about the sudden change in events. A Chief Petty Officer could be so inexperienced, so unfit for such a position. “Captain,” he muttered, “do you think he can save our bridge?”

“[No,]” Stormz replied, staring Jasuph straight in the eye. “[I know it.]”

=====

Whereas Stormz knew it, Echelon only thought it. And he thought it with doubt.

The Defense Control Room swirled with activity, not unlike a hurricane. Its inhabitants yelled back and forth, their voices joining in with the rest of the loud noises that accompanied the room. Echelon stood in the middle, calling orders and requesting reports. His brain glided through all of the madness, and he seemed barely conscious. It was almost like he was doing everything automatically without thinking, much like instinct.

“Alright!” he yelled, trying to surpass the barrier of other voices that kept his from being heard. “Let’s put this plan into action!” Turning to his right, he pointed to Keplar. “Hallways evacuated?”

“Yes sir,” she relayed, “Completely barren and all entrances are locked.”

“Brilliant. How about auxilliary air pumps?”

“Ready to go,” Owen replied, “Standing by and ready to send in more air.”

“Great.” Turning again, he pointed to Macro. “What about our vents?”

“Primary seal disengaged, and ready to open.”

Smiling, Echelon clapped his hands together. At least one thing was working perfectly. “Let’s do this. Keplar, open up our first vent.” Tapping away at her console, she followed Echelon’s instructions. With the flick of a switch, she opened up the vent, causing a wind to pass through the hallways of the bridge, exiting into the vacuum of space. Echelon hoped it would cool the bridge, otherwise, its inhabitants would be cooked alive.

The fate of the bridge rested upon the tiny, miniscule plan. If it did not work, the bridge would be destroyed and the Vast Empire would crumble. He had exhausted his resources, his plans, and his hope. If this did not work, there was nothing he could do. Which was why his heart was vigorously pumping, even though he was standing still with fear.

“Temperature reading?” he mumbled, his voice squeaking with apprehension.

“2,000 degrees and holding,” Keplar stated, operating her complex control station. The room became quiet with suspense, the first time it was quiet in hours. It would have been pleasant if everyone wasn’t so nervous. A moment later, she muttered, “2,300 degrees...” In that moment, Echelon’s morale sank worse than a stone through water. He realized that his plan was not working, he was going to die, and the Vast Empire was going to be lost. His hands trembled and he sat down in his seat, his face moist with sweat.

“Well, my friends, it was an honor doing service with y-”

“Hold on! The temperature just went down!” Keplar yelled with excitement. Echelon’s head perked up, and he rushed over to her console, wondering if it was really true. It was. Echelon jumped on top of Keplar, hugging, laughing, and crying at the same time. He may have been exaggerating, but his day had been tough. The others did the same too, and for once in this room of despair, there was happiness and glee. Echelon’s plan was working and the bridge would be saved. It was a glorious feeling.

But that was only one part of the puzzle, the three hundred turbolaser cannons would still need to destroy the Loyalty’s bridge, and it would be a tough task.

Cannon after cannon blasted away at the Imperial Dominion ship in front of it, spewing out insanely hot plasma fire. Each shot tumbled away to the Allegiance-class Destroyer, pummeling into its bridge, spraying sparks and metal upon impact. Each impacting blast made the captain of the Loyalty more and more nervous. He was finally realizing that his shots were no good against the Atrus, and his enemies shots were becoming more and more dangerous. It was a losing battle, and soon the bridge would be destroyed. It was a conflict he couldn’t pull himself out of. Normally, there would be some last ditch effort, but not this time. He was out of ideas, out of hope, out of energy. Could a battle be this exhausting? He pondered whether he should continue, or whether he should retreat to the auxiliary bridge. Commanding from the secondary bridge wouldn’t be as efficient though, and if he did make it to the secondary bridge, what would be the point? He couldn’t possibly fight against the Atrus now, it was too powerful. Plus, boarding ships were on their way. There was no way out of it this time. All he could do was retreat to his bridge and damage the other ships as much as possible before being taken. His plans had been foiled, not by his stupidity or lack of prose, but because of the might of the enemy. They were powerful foes. Too powerful.

“Executive Officer,” he called forth, “Order and evacuation of the bridge tower and make our way to the auxiliary bridge.”

“Are you sure Captain? We may still be able to win.” The Captain shook his head at the Executive Officer’s ignorance.

“Do it! Or stay here and die! It doesn’t make a difference! I don’t need you to command this ship!” Saying that, the Captain stomped off to the turbolift where he rode in silence to the secondary bridge. Anger coursed through his veins. Anger at his Executive Officer, anger at the Vast Empire, anger at himself. The conflict had been lost, and he was beat...

=====

If there was ever an explosion that made a crew more happy, it was this one. In a single second, a round of blazing green turbolaser blasts rushed forward, meeting at the Loyalty’s bridge. Meeting no resistance by the lack of shielding, they easily passed through the hull, eliminating anything in their paths. The bridge tower blasted into pieces, debris flying in every direction. Another wave of cannon fire hit the bridge, this time, causing the explosion that ended it all. The bridge tower’s base let out at violent burst of fire, shattering upward and crippling the bridge even further. The orange and red tinge of the explosion flashed in the faces of the gunners as they cried out in victory. The blast headed upward, splitting the tower in half, and ending it once and for all.

It was a glorious moment for the Atrus and for the Vast Empire. They beat the odds, and won the race, showing the Galaxy what the Vast Empire was made of. The day was historic, and everyone would remember it for years to come...

OOC:
Word Count: 1,611. Kind of made it a bit more dramatic than what it needed to be, but oh well! The writing quality differs, but overall, I think I did well with this story arc.

AAR: The Loyalty’s bridge is destroyed and the crew of the Atrus cheers madly!

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Trykon
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 7, 2012 9:24:33 AM    View the profile of Trykon 
OOC:
If you'll all kindly indulge me, I'm going to experiment with a different voice.  I present to you an excerpt from Poison, Politics, and Proton Torpedoes: A History of the War between the Vast Empire and the Imperial Dominion, an in-universe non-fiction account, written decades after our story takes place.


Chapter 3: Dybbuk's Raid

In reaction to that dreadful intelligence, Captain Mihawk formulated a bold and inspiring plan.  To defend the Vectra System - the headquarters of the Vast Empire's Navy - the Mon Calamari Chief of Naval Warfare issued some of the most memorable orders of his storied career to Lieutenant Trykon, who would command the Surprise, and to Lieutenant Sheol Dybbuk, who would command the heavily-modified Acrimonious.  Admiral Gial Ackbar, at that time the Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Forces and by any measure a greater-than-average judge of aero-space martial talent, would much later characterize their mission as "one of the most daring acts of the age."

Mihawk ordered Dybbuk to refit the Acrimonious completely, subtracting many of the cruiser's turbolaser batteries and removing the two main starfighter hangers, in order to support more shielding units and internal structural supports.  In addition, the interior was optimized for short-term personnel transportation.  In short, Dybbuk was to turn the 450-meter-long warship into an impossibly large (and tough) boarding shuttle, capable of supporting 3,000 troops (naval infantry, marines, and stormtrooper contingents).  He was to complete the overhaul in less than two weeks, and then be ready to guide his transport directly into the main hangar of the enemy's flagship, an Allegiance-class Super Star Dreadnought named Loyalty, during the battle itself.  "On boarding the Destroyer," Mihawk's order read, "you will no doubt encounter resistance; you must drive hard and fast to secure the bridge, secondary bridge, and reactor control room with all possible haste."  He wanted to take the prize if at all possible, but at heart Mihawk was a pragmatist.  If complete capture seemed impossible, the boarders had orders to "blow her bottom out" by compromising the main reactor.  Whatever happened, the Loyalty was to be taken out of the fight.

This was an insanely daring plan.  The Vast Imperials had to fight their way through a major fleet action, pound a Super Star Destroyer hard enough to batter down her ventral shields, and then, while the larger ship was moving and shooting at them, they had to maneuver into the SSD's main hangar.  And then, the 3,000 boarders would blast their way aboard, to face 40,000 crewers, officers, and marines of the Imperial Dominion's Navy.  Mihawk granted Dybbuk his regular bridge crew from the Acrimonious's earlier tour, and told him to see whether any of the crew from the other ships of the fleet would volunteer.  The mission was strictly optional, and Mihawk promised he would make up any shortfall in the complement of marines.  Instead, Dybbuk was flooded with requests to serve on the boarding team.  Too many volunteered.  A Petty Officer named Myla Neer, for one, sent a note to Mihawk begging the favor "to let no opportunity escape whereby I can render my Empire any service."

Certainly, patriotic fervor cannot be discounted, and after months of much anticipation and little action, the chance for danger might have been appealing for some, but in addition, something about twenty-seven-year-old Sheol Dybbuk inspired confidence and swept other beings along.  Tall, athletic, and handsome with wavy hair, he was a strong, warm commander who maintained discipline not through fear of punishment but via fairness and justice.  Dybbuk, as a young man, was credited with several daring rescues, including a legendary space-walk to save a crewman who'd been blown into space when a hatch seal failed.

OOC:
566 words.  Not much new information; more a new perspective (that of the distant future, looking back).  Named Acrimonious's captain (Sheol Dybbuk).  Since Echelon's already written the destruction of Loyalty's bridge, I'll hurry up with a follow-up post describing the boarding action getting underway.

After Action Report: Far in the future, in-universe, a historian recalls the importance of the daring mission to commandeer the SSD Loyalty, during the Battle of Abrae.

EDIT. Oh, and credit where due: the idea for this, as well as much of the cadence and "tone of voice" comes from a book I'm reading right now called The Pirate Coast: Thomas Jefferson, the First Marines, and the Secret Mission of 1805.  I recommend it!
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SCAP/LTJG Wyl Trykon/SMC Surprise/TF:B/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
CNT/LTJG Wyl "Trick" Trykon/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA][SoV][BWC][NSM][E][NAR][HNS][DSM][SWC][1NS][VC:B][LoM][VC:S][NC]/(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)

TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
[This message has been edited by Trick (edited May 7, 2012 9:28:27 AM)]
Hades
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Hades
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 12, 2012 10:05:08 AM    View the profile of Hades 
"Troops.." Hades heard vaguely over his comm as he broke and dived, pulling into a reverse immelman. The TIE Interceptor on his tail tried to follow him through the maneuver, but either by luck or by skill Hades was too fast for him and came out on his tail. A flash of green lasers illuminated the unfortunate interceptor, and an explosion soon followed. Shrapnel was flung out in all directions by the force of the fuselage exploding, and again Hades broke to avoid getting taken out by a high-speed wing panel that was so characteristic of the TIE fighters.

"Please repeat, Ryn." Hades said over his comm. It had taken him a while to recognise the scrambled transmission, but he had and he knew her voice.

"I said they're sending troops in!" She snapped back, obviously in a tight situation. Scanning his sensors he saw she was right; boarding craft had been detaching from the Surprise and were headed toward the gargantuan ship that had jumped in-system with the Imperial Dominion strike force. Hades gritted his teeth as he saw several flights of ID fighters heading on an intercept vector. I guess that's our job as-well.. He thought bitterly, interrupted through a buzz.

"Tuk'ata squadron, troop transports moving toward the Countenance need cover. Assist if available, over" It was the voice of one of the various Squadron Commanders from the Surprise. Hades barely hesitated as he threw his fighter left, opening the throttle as far as it would go and shooting off recklessly. How very characteristic of him. He looked to his sensors and saw that Ryn had suddenly fallen in on his tail. He grinned slightly and waited for the inevitable smart remark.

"Well, someone has to stop you from killing yourself." Ryn uttered over the comm. Hades could hear the grin in her tone, infectious as it was. It spread to his face, and made him all the more confident in their task. An inaudible tune played in Hades' head, the theme-song to his life supposedly. It was a fast drum-beat, very inspiring. Hades' eyes blazed happily as he prepared to go to work - and not for the first time today.

"Time to earn our pay," he retorted to Ryn, "for the eight-hundredth time today" Hades smirked at his exaggeration but said no more; he didn't want to clutter the comm with unnecessary chatter. Ryn had thought the same thing obviously, as she came back with just a click of her comm. The boarding craft were moving ponderously toward the countenance, heavily encumbered beasts compared to the TIE-Interceptors. Like gargantuan beasts versus swarms of insects, they were. Not quite huge, but big enough to be far larger and slower than the TIEs. They had their own armaments, but they were no match for a Squadron of TIE Interceptors. Not alone anyway. That was where Tuk'ata came in.

A sudden heat ripped him back into the here and now; it was a green laser blast that had oh-so-narrowly missed his delicate Interceptor. "Son of a nexu-female!" He cursed openly, thinking up as many expletives or insults as he could while still focusing on the fighter that had so nearly ended his career. "Your father was a Kushiban and your mother smelt of Hutt, you son of a silly person, you empty-headed reek-trough-wiper!" By this time he had rolled left, slowing himself down enough that the next burst was way ahead of him. The fighter had been coming from his starboard side, and now shot past him, almost but not quite clipping his wing. Hades quickly pulled onto the tail of the pilot, who had by now realised his error and was trying every trick in the book to get Hades off his tail. With a reassuring beep, his targeting system locked on. Four blasts of green-death in quick succession saw the ID pilot to his end..

"Now go away, before I taunt you a second time!" He muttered with a smirk, the ID fighter's wing had been blown off and was now in an uncontrollable spin. Hades refocused and was caught off-guard by a remark from Ryn.

"I heard that, you know" she said with barely stifled giggles. Hades simply growled and switched his comm off 'transmit'. They were much closer now, and could see that all sides had presumably taken considerable damage. This battle had progressed far faster than Hades had noticed. But then again, time flew when you were having fun. Or when you were high on adrenaline. Either worked for Hades. He rolled left and right to avoid the carcasses of a fighter and a light cruiser respectively - both reminders that death was a big part of warfare.

OOC:
Wordcount: 783

AAR: Hades blasts a fighter and eagerly takes up the mission of assisting the boarding craft as enemy fighters are incoming. Ryn follows him, as the good friend would

*EDIT: 200th post on the Comnet

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Petty Officer 2nd Class Demetrius "Hades" Aita, Tuk'ata Squadron
FM | PO2 "Hades" | B-3 | S:26 "Tuk'ata" | W:58 "Javelin" | mSSD Atrus | TF:A | 1Flt | SC | VEN | VE
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{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}

"Life is warfare."
~Lucius Annaeus Seneca
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited May 18, 2012 12:24:02 AM)]
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 13, 2012 10:57:40 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
Captain Alexander Rauthrin picked himself up off the floor of the command deck, feeling more than a little stupid.  In all his years serving in the Empire and then the Imperial Dominion, the career officer had never lost his footing.  However, so fierce was the impact of the Vast Empire’s attack that the shudder of the Star Destroyer Countenance’s hull had thrown him to the ground.

“Damage report!” He called as he used the nearby tactical display to pull himself up.

“Massive damage, sir,” Came a strained voice from a nearby crew pit ensign who had somehow managed to remain seated.  “Warhead impacts on the stern!  Multiple hull breaches!  Chain reaction and secondary explosions across the central superstructure!  Shields down and weapons seriously compromised!”

“Casualties?” Demanded Rauthrin, more concerned with the loss of life than the damage to his ship.  The Captain knew that vessels could be rebuilt, but a talented crew was unique and irreplaceable.

“Heavy, sir,” The ensign answered, his voice suddenly subdued.  “Death toll in the hundreds easily, perhaps thousands.”

Rauthrin cursed under his breath.  What did I expect?  Captain ‘Drac’ Mihawk is no fool.  I challenged the best that the Vast Empire had to offer, and my crew paid the price.

As he struggled with his next move, the Captain heard his XO, Lieutenant Detus, barking orders.

“Restore shield power and weapons!  They are our top priorities to get us back in the fight!” Commanded the First Officer of the Countenance, who was younger and quicker back to his feet than his commander.

As orders rang back and forth across the bridge, Rauthrin felt something bump into his leg.  He looked down, and saw his faithful astromech droid, R3-G3, approaching to offer his peculiar breed of comfort.  The orange and white droid spun its transparent domed head and beeped in a tone that sounded almost genuine in its concern.  The Captain had no idea if the machine’s feelings were as ‘real’ as those of a living member of his crew, or if it was just a programme the droid was running.  Still, he always felt comforted by G3’s presence.

“You tried to warn me, didn’t you?” Asked the Captain.

The droid tweetled an affirmative.

“Detus didn’t listen,” Mused Rauthrin, the anger building within him.  Pushing it aside, he asked the astromech another question.  “How bad is the ship?  What’s your tactical analysis?”

Like all of the R3 line, G3 contained a library of warship schematics, battle plans, tactics, and had the programming to analyse them all.  Some officers detested having a machine advise them, but Rauthrin had learned to trust his diminutive assistant.  When the droid made a low wailing sound, he had all the information he needed to make a decision.

“Then it is over,” Said the Captain sadly, and turned his attention back to the ongoing conversation between the XO and the bridge officers.

“Bad news, sir!” An old and bearded non-com at the engineering station was saying.  “The ship’s central power systems are a mess.  Shields are flickering back to life and the cannons are firing again, but the strain is too much!  We can’t keep this up!”

“We can and will!” Retorted Detus.  “The Countenance is not beaten yet!  We are not beaten yet!”

“Yes we are!” Declared Rauthrin, clearly and firmly, his voice cutting through the chatter on the bridge.  With everyone's attention on him, he announced, “My crew!  You have fought well and valiantly, and while the Imperial Dominion may yet win this day, it will do so without us.  We have done our part, and now it is time we left.  Lieutenant Detus, give the order to evacuate!”

The bridge officers stared at him for a few moments, surprised, until the reality of their situation dawned in their eyes.  Several nodded in agreement, and the order was swiftly relayed to what remained of the rest of the ship.

Detus reacted by crossing to the Captain’s side and instantly saying, “Sir!  You cannot be serious!”

“I am, Lieutenant,” Said Rauthrin sadly.  “I do not doubt that we can fight on, but it would be the death of everyone on board, and there are enough deaths on my conscience today already.  And yours,” He added, glaring at the other man.  “Yes, I know, Detus.  You were warned about the attack, and did not heed the warning.”

“Captain, it came from a droid...” The XO began.

“A droid with more tactical sense than you, it seems,” Said Rauthrin coldly.  Then he took a deep breath, dispensing with the image of the distant Captain, and adopting a more fatherly demeanour.  Laying a hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder, he said.  “Some Imperials would execute a subordinate for a blunder like that, but not I.  You are a good man, Detus, but you need to learn from your mistakes in order to grow.  The Admiralty will judge you for your mistake here today, and I pray that they look upon you favourably.  You have a good career ahead of you.”

“I... er...” The other man fumbled for words.  “Thank you, sir.  I am sure that with you speaking for me at the hearing I...”

Rauthrin cut him off.  “I shall not be attending.  A Captain goes down with the ship,” He said simply.

“No!  My Captain, you cannot...”

“This is how it is,” Said Rauthrin.  “Now go.  The command deck escape pods are waiting.”

Already the crew were leaving their posts for the pods, and the sounds of the evacuation alarm were blaring throughout the ship.  Detus took one glance around the bridge, saw the chaos, and gave up any further protests.  “I understand, sir.”  Stepping back, he gave his best salute, and held it until the Captain returned the gesture.  “It was an honour to serve under you, sir!”

“It was an honour to command,” Said Rauthrin, and then watched as the other turned and left with the other bridge officers.  Detus stopped at the exit, taking one last look around the bridge.  Their eyes met, the young Lieutenant nodded once, and then was gone.

The Captain then turned to the command deck’s only other occupant.  “And now it’s your turn to go, my friend.”

R3-G3 beeped back at him defiantly, and Rauthrin smiled.  “Such loyalty.  However did I become worthy of such subordinates?”

The astromech rattled off a series of bleeps and whistles that the human had no chance of understanding the details of, but the Captain liked to think he had the gist of it.

“Well, whatever your reasons, thank you.  Now, get to an escape pod.  With luck, our side will collect you, and you can serve another captain as faithfully as you have me.”

G3 tweetled, the noise going up at the end and clearly indicating a question.

“You’ll be fine.  Remember, Imperials never fire at escape pods with no life signs.  Now get out of here.”

The droid turned and made it way quickly and obediently from the bridge.  Like Detus before him, R3-G3 turned to look at Rauthrin one last time before leaving, and then was gone.

The Captain was alone.

The Countenance died around him.  Alarms and automated updates echoed from the abandoned bridge stations, and he could hear warnings about containment breeches in the main engines.  It was only a matter of time until it blew.

For several long minutes he ignored the sounds and just stood at the viewport, watching the continuing Battle of Abrae.  Rauthrin had been in so many battles, yet he had never just watched one before.  Every combat had been so frantic, so many decisions to be made and his attention had always been on a thousand other things.  Now that he watched the dancing warships before him, he felt like he finally understood just what this war was all about.

“It’s beautiful,” Said Alexander Rauthrin with his last breath, and then the ship exploded around him.

OOC:

1316 words.  My final post about the Countenance, which has finally blown.  A bittersweet one, and a fine end to an NPC I actually liked.  (And I trust you all got the line about firing at escape pods with no life signs?)

AAR:  After Drac’s brilliant attack, the ISD Countenance withers and dies.  The remaining crew evacuate, but Captain Rauthrin stays behind.  He has some final words for his XO, Lieutenant Detus, and his faithful droid R3-G3.  Then he just sits back and watches the battle until the ship detonates.
FO/MCPO Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][MiD][=*Eng*=]

"If the crew doesn't hate the XO, then he's not doing his job." - Colonel Saul Tigh
DarianRogue
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DarianRogue
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 17, 2012 9:19:29 PM    View the profile of DarianRogue 
Had the bombing strike been successful? Darian didn’t know. All he knew is that he defended the bombers on the way to their run from various starfighters (and even couple protruding laser cannons from capital ships) when all of a sudden, it was no longer the bombers being fired upon; it was Darian himself. Big mistake, Darian thought, preparing to retaliate.
No. Not yet. First, cover your bases. He clicked the comm, “Tuk’ata 11 here, a pair of Interceptors on my six. Can probably take care of them myself, but if any help could be spared for a second it would be awesome.”
Now, it was time to get to work. Deal with the most immediate threat first. They’re about on my 4 and my 8, but the one on my 8 is closer. Turn left towards him. Could temporarily put me in a vulnerable position to him, but the one on my 4 won’t be too pleased. Direct 60% of shielding towards my left side temporarily. It was working, soon Darian would be facing the enemy, or the the enemy would just overshoot… WHAT’S THIS?!
8’s wings were level, and the nose was pulling hard up, and he was rolling in the opposite direction of Darian’s turn. A barrel roll attack? Well then, don’t think I don’t know the counter for that.
The barrel roll attack, Darian knew, is a maneuver that uses the basic concept of the barrel roll that alters the angle of approach and corrects for the possibility of overshooting a turning target, with the difference between it and a regular offensive barrel roll being that a barrel roll attack didn’t sacrifice speed. But it has one major flaw.
Darian pushed hard on the yoke, and rolled just a little, to flip into a high-speed Split-S dive, making the enemy’s barrel roll attack useless. A regular dive would have been enough if it was just the one bogey, but since there was a wingman to worry about, the Split-S was necessary. Besides, it’s not like it could hurt or hinder his attempts to avoid any long-range missiles that come his way…
Damn! He quickly rolled out of the way of the incoming concussion missile, throwing him off-maneuver… since he was already rolling, he started to spin out of control. “Erk…” I haven’t even been hit and I’m already out of control!
He pulled hard to compensate, and eventually got back to a steady level. The bright bursts of green light continued to follow him the whole way. Back to square one.

Darian just had to keep turning. Dodging. Spiraling. Diving. Finally, he got behind one of the Imperial Dominion fighters, with the other still following close behind. “Hmmm…” The fighter in front of him still had most of its shields. Not destroying that any time soon. But if only… “There!” The craft was turning… and Darian was outside the turn circle, but he was still close enough that… Only one shot… Direct 50% of power to front shields, other 50% to back. Only a minimal amount for engine. This will preserve me long enough. The fighter was coming in thick, and firing quad-linked lasers, as was the one behind him. Shield power was going down by the second. Almoooost theeerrre. An act of desperation? No, just an act of insanity and cynicism. NOW! He dove to the side. It would cause another spinning-out-of-control sequence, he knew, but at least he wouldn’t be at risk of crashing into one of them on the way down. As he was spinning, he heard, despite being in the vacuum of space, because apparently sound travels through a vacuum in this galaxy, the loud crunch of metal upon metal, followed by an explosion caused by the sudden release of pressurized gasses and fuels. And finally, silence.

Darian redistributed energy back to equilibrium, and sped off back towards the thick of the battle. As he was speeding through space, he commed, “Never mind, I got ‘em.”

OOC:
WC: 651. Not the longest post ever, but I wanted to get off something.

AAR: Darian dogfights with a couple of ID Interceptors, using a very dangerous tactic to kill them both at the same time. Probably not something he’ll be doing again any time soon.
FM/SCRW DarianRogue/Γ-3/S:26 "Tuk'ata"/W:52 "Javelin"/MSSD Atrus/TF:A/1 Flt/SC/VEN/VE (=*AE*=)
Eli13778
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Eli13778
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 19, 2012 3:24:45 PM    View the profile of Eli13778 
Eli flew side by side with Delta 3, Dawn. His squadmate was cocky, but had the skill to back it up. Eli in the other hand, was modest about his skill and was rightfully so. It wasn't that much. 

"Hey Dawn, you seen Delta 1 or Delta 4?" Eli asked over the comm. "Or for that matter, do you see anyone?"

"Negative, Delta 2. Not since our last skirmish with those ID Bombers," Dawn said.

Suddenly, five ID TIE Interceptors flew right in front of them. Upon noticing Eli and Dawn, who were right in the middle of the formation, they dropped into chaos. Eli peeled away from Dawn's starboard side, in order to engage two of the Interceptors. They split and Eli chose to follow the one on the right. Moments later, shots hit his back deflectors.

"Frak!" yelled Eli. He was so naïve. The two ID Interceptors had pulled the sandwich on him. He rolled to the right. Three more volleys whizzed by his left wing. Then, another hit his back shields again. The tail had lined up. Ok, let's do a little tactic I learned in the sims. Eli did a full backflip, soaring over the tail, and coming back in behind the fighter. Two missiles later, the thing was shrapnel. And the other Interceptor was gone. 

"Hey, Eli! A little help here!" shouted Dawn over the comm. Eli spun around, just in time to see the fighter he had tried to tail, settle in behind Dawn. Eli threw the throttle all the way open and jetted behind Dawn's new tail. Eli was going to overshoot, and he knew it too. So, he angled his fighter above the tail, and fired his remaining four missiles, without really aiming. Three of them hit, dead on. Eli overshot Dawn's tail not even a half second before it exploded. Then, Eli began firing his quad linked lasers as fast as they could shoot. 

This better work. It did. Moments later, the explosion's shockwave threw Eli forward at an angle with enough speed to dive over Dawn, and down behind the ID Interceptor Dawn had been tailing. As he passed, Eli's shots tore a wing off of the fighter. Then, to his luck, Eli's came face to face with the last incoming ID Interceptor, in what Eli knew would be the worst game of 'chicken' of all time. Immediately after Eli had personally accepted his fate, a concussion missile soared over him, and struck the opposing Interceptor in the viewport. The shockwave of the explosion threw Eli out of the way of the fighter's debris, and right in front of Dawn, who had to swerve to miss him. 

"Even?" Eli called over the comm.

"Even. So, lets just watch each other's backs next time. So something like that doesn't happen again," Dawn suggested.

"Probably a good idea. No more solo heroics. By the way what happened to the fifth Interceptor?" Eli asked, curious. He hadn't seen it's debris.

"There were five?"

Then, right on cue, shots tore apart what remained of Eli's rear deflectors. "Frak! He's right behind me!" yelled Eli to no one in particular. "Sandwich?" 

"Sandwich," agreed Dawn who proceeded to peel away from Eli's port side. Seconds later, the shots stopped. 

Eli grinned. It's always nice knowing someone has your back.


OOC:
Word count: 553 Yeah it's kind of sad.

AAR: Delta 2, Eli and Delta 3, Dawn, take apart five ID TIE Interceptors. Eli saves Dawn's life once, and Dawn does the same for Eli twice.

Dawn, if there's any part of this you'd like to edit on your PC's behalf do so. However, try to keep the dogfighting sequence untouched.
FM/LCW/Eli "Lucky Bolts" Long/B-3/S:137 "Raptor"/W:52"Javelin"/PLF Cappadocious/TF:TH/3Flt/SC/VEN/VE

When you strike your opponent do not bruise or even bloody them. Hit them so hard you take away their capacity to fight back.
[This message has been edited by Eli13778 (edited May 19, 2012 6:32:34 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Eli13778 (edited May 20, 2012 10:40:51 AM)]
Maroy
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Maroy
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 20, 2012 5:39:05 PM    View the profile of Maroy 
A stray bolt tore through the top of Maroy's port wing, severing the power to the blaster mounted there. Sparks flew, lights flashed, and consoles screeched as she hurried to reroute the damaged section. Frak! They really need to make these things easier to repair. Without shields and maneuverability I'm a sitting mynock.

She fed a bit more of her fighter's auxiliary power into the damaged engines, attempting to catch up with her attacker. The Dominion pilot mockingly lowered his thrust, still easily outpacing her. She squeezed the trigger several times, but the lack of a fourth cannon caused random fluctuations in the aim of the other three and she missed every shot. They flew right through the middle of the fighter cloud, rolling and dodging friend and foe alike with varying degrees of success. Proximity sensors blared in the Twi'lek's ears constantly. Another enemy interceptor flew through the remains of a Vast Empire TIE and fell in behind her, forming a rapidly shrinking sandwich. The rear pilot fired a single quad burst, which brushed her rolling fighter and blew up something off to her right. The lead fighter took the opportunity to accelerate, going into a tight roll that brought Maroy back into its firing arc. She quickly dove, but not before one fired a quad burst. It narrowly missed, instead hitting his partner and punching through his shields. The Dominion fighter spun wildly through the swarm of dogfighters before exploding in a shower of glinting shrapnel. The surviving pursuer dove after her, firing in rapid succession. One bolt hit her, shredding armor but missing her critical components. He lined up a killing shot, and Maroy mentally prepared for the worst. Her shields were down, her reflexes were slowing, and her engines were practically stopped. She was going to die here, after all she'd been through. She wondered how long it would take for her fiancee to find out what happened to her. At least she was dying in defense of Abrae, the closest thing she'd had to a home for a long time...

Suddenly, a VE fighter flew right across her would-be killer's flight path. Just like that, two people vanished in a fireball that scattered debris across the battlefield and left a shocked green Twi'lek behind.

I almost died. The phrase seemed almost alien to her. She'd been through hundreds of near-death moments in her time as a pilot, but somehow this time had rattled her more than any others had. Maybe it was because she really had no chance of survival, or because she was so alone.

Or maybe it was because at some point she'd found something worth living for.

She took advantage of the momentary lack of hostiles to fiddle with the damaged comm system and try to figure out what was going on. The bombers Tuk'ata had been escorting were returning back to their carrier after a very successful bombing run. If her squadron had received new orders, they were lost in the constant static emitting from the communications system. Her squadronmates were mostly engaged in individual dogfights scattered throughout the huge battlefield. As she scanned the tactical screen she noticed a few lightly defended ID bombers preparing to make a run on the Surprise. The VE cruiser was designated as a troopship transport, and while she didn't know Captain Trykon personally, she'd heard plenty about him. She flew her Interceptor out of the dogfight and accelerated toward the pair of bombers.

OOC:
WC:585. I'll follow this post up ASAP, but I wanted to get something up.
AAR: Maroy deals with her damaged fighter, barely escapes death from two enemy interceptors, who both die in accidents, and flies off to save the Surprise from two bombers.
SC/MCPO Maroy/B-4/S:26 Tuk'ata/W:58 Javelin/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1FL/SFC/VEN/VE (=*A*=) [GCM] [CBV] [IG] [MC2] [MC1]
Trykon
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Trykon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 21, 2012 3:58:56 AM    View the profile of Trykon 
Sixty years have passed, and Dybbuk’s Raid is still taught at war colleges throughout the Galaxy, presented as a textbook example of how to conduct a large-scale boarding operation.  Why the continued interest?  The basic tactics used to capture the Imperial Dominion’s Loyalty during the Battle of Abrae had been around for centuries.  And while the raid was incredibly dramatic, and makes for a compelling war story, that alone is not enough to keep martial theorists interested.

Academics love discussing Dybbuk’s Raid for a different reason, and a simple one: it was successful.  Boarding actions are notoriously dangerous, and incredibly difficult to pull off when the target is as large as a Star Dreadnought.  Commandeering such a vessel, in the middle of a pitched battle, requires planning, daring, and an almost supernatural level of coordination between dizzying numbers of personnel.  But even when all these elements are present, as they were in the Vectra System on that day some sixty years ago (Mihawk’s plans, Dybbuk’s élan, and Trykon’s guidance of the multiple elements of the assault task force), most boarding actions fail.  Dybbuk’s, in stark contrast, did not; in point of fact, it succeeded far beyond even the hopes of the Vast Empire’s commanders.  Figuring out Dybbuk’s “secret” – the mysterious element that led to the Raid’s overwhelming success – is what drives historians and theorists to keep returning to this example.  Over the years, some superstitious types have credited mystical energy fields and favorite deities for the victory, and perhaps they are not too far off: in this author’s opinion, after studying the holographic records of the battle, the bridge transcripts from the relevant warships, and the wealth of primary-source documents written by the hundreds of thousands of crewman on both sides, the fourth necessary element to successfully commandeer an enemy vessel in the middle of a battle – after planning, daring, and coordination – is sheer dumb luck.

OOC:
320 words.  I'm allowing myself to post under the word limit, just this once... I lost this file, and had to start again from a half-finished draft.  I promise, the actual end of the raid is coming.

AAR: A future historian writes that the VEN's takeover of the ID's Loyalty was only possible because of Drac's planning, Dybbuk's daring, Trykon's leadership, and a healthy dose of good luck.
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SCAP/LTJG Wyl Trykon/SMC Surprise/TF:B/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
CNT/LTJG Wyl "Trick" Trykon/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA][SoV][BWC][NSM][E][NAR][HNS][DSM][SWC][1NS][VC:B][LoM][VC:S][NC][GWC]/(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)

TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
May 31, 2012 9:22:43 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:

NPC post.  Part 2 of 3 about the Imperial Dominion’s Mistblade Squadron.

Part Two: The Fool


The close-range flyby of the Halcyon Warrior really brought home the size of the massive warship.  Its grey-white hull, rough with protruding weapon emplacements, shot past in a blur as Mistblade Eight rolled his TIE Interceptor around and accelerated across the bow.  A hail of bright green turbolaser erupted in the wake of him and his wing commander, but each one reached out a split-second too late, and failed to ensnare the passing fighters in their deadly grasp.

“Getting a visual now!” Shouted the young pilot, the eagerness in his voice coming clear to Mistblade Seven even across the static-tinged com channel.

“I see them, Eight,” Replied his superior.  Unlike Eight, Mistblade Seven was a level-headed individual, calm and controlled even during the frenzy of starfighter combat.  For six months now the two had been paired, in the vain hopes that Seven’s patience would rub-off on the younger pilot.  So far it had not.

Up ahead of the two TIE Interceptors loomed their target.  Not a target to attack, but to escort.  The commander of the Mistblades, Hellhawk, had been quite clear in his orders, and it was the duty of Seven and Eight (along with Five and Six) to protected four of the bombers from the Countenance’s Silooth Squadron.

Named for the legendary Sith warbeasts, Eight figured that the name ‘Silooth’ was apt.  The TIE Bombers were as slow and graceless as lumbering beasts, and he knew that most of their pilots were about as bright.  Frakkin’ escort duty, he mused, this just flies in the face of logic.  My fighter was designed for speed, to strike hard and fast.  Why would Hellhawk waste us with babysitting detail?

“Form up with the Silooths,” Commanded Seven, already guiding his fighter into position.  “They are about to make their third run at the Halcyon Warrior’s shield generators.”

Yes, thought Eight, I know this.  I the plan, I know our orders, and I can plainly see the direction that the Silooths are slowly travelling in.  You don’t need to keep stating the obvious.

Eight glanced about, and saw below him the capital ship battle being waged nearby.  His own ISD, the Countenance, was continuing to trade fire with Halcyon Warrior, relentlessly pounding each other’s shields in a grinding conflict that the hotshot found, frankly, dull.

A fight should be quick and decisive.  You strike, you win, you move on.  I hope I never have to trade a fighter cockpit for a bridge.

So inattentive was he to the fighting of his mammoth carrier that it came as a total surprise when it fell.  Eight’s eyes widened in horror as Vast Imperial vessels executed a lethal and cunningly timed assault, leaving the Countenance wracked with secondary explosions.  Suddenly the ISD was spewing escape pods, and the com lines of Mistblade Squadron were filled with chaos from the dying vessel.

“Captain Rauthrin has given the evac order!”

“All fighters get clear of the impending blast.  The engines are going critical!”

“All Countenance fighters!  You are hereby transferred to the command of the Loyalty

There was a barrage of orders and counter-orders, as the fleet’s chain of command rushed to fill the void left by the demise of one the armada’s key ships.  Eight, however, was barely listening.  He was too angry!

“No!” He sputtered in defiance of the reality of the situation.  “No!  The Vast Imperial frakwits have destroyed our ship!”

“Stay calm,” Urged Seven, his voice tight with emotion but somehow managing to remain focused despite the situation.  “We have our orders.  We must continue to escort the Silooths.  Taking out the Halcyon Warrior is the only way to avenge the loss of...”

“No!” Barked the younger pilot.  “These fools are not worth the effort!  I’ll going to take the fight to the enemy myself!” He bellowed, and with a jerk of the joystick, he pulled his fighter out of formation and rushed at the Warrior.

“Come back!” Called Seven, but the other was deaf to his cries.

Eight banked and dived, heading at the VE Star Destroyer’s engines.  Weaving through the streams of turbolaser fire that rushed out at him, the hotshot pilot homed in on his target.

Opening up with fire of his own, the blasts splashed harmlessly against the thick hull of the warship.  On one level, Eight knew that his attack was akin to a gnat attacking rancor, but on another level he knew that miracles did occasionally happen.  There were several documented instances of capital ships being destroyed by a lucky starfighter.  A single well-placed shot could undo a major system and cause a critical chain reaction, and that was just what Eight was trying to provoke.

Swinging around for another approach, his sensors suddenly alerted him to two enemy vessels in close proximity.  Two VE Interceptors, their design exact copies of his own vessel, swooped in.  Quickly, Eight abandoned his futile assault on the capital ship and angled instead at the two snubfighters.

At last!  Some foes I can engage in a real fight!  I’ll take my frustrations out on them!

The other TIEs were opening fire already, before Eight had a chance to bring his weapons to bear.  Diving and rolling, the Mistblade twisted his ship on an escape vector, sweeping out wide in an attempt to come around on his foes.  As he brought himself about, he saw one of his foes break from the other.

This old routine, he mused.  One will distract me by dancing in my sights, and the other will try to come around behind me.  Do these VE fools know nothing new?

He snapped off a few shots the one close-by, the designated ‘bait’.  As it broke into its series of evasive manoeuvres, however, Eight quickly switched direction and moved to intercept his partner.

Suddenly, over the com, Eight heard Seven’s voice.  “Eight!  Get back here now!  The Silooths are under fire!  I order you to help!”

“I am busy here!” He snapped back, focused on the two rival Interceptors.  This is stupid!  The second I leave the Silooths, they see some actual combat!  He suddenly felt bad for leaving them, but he vowed to rectify his momentary mistake soon enough.  He would just take care of these idiots and then return to Seven.

Eight rushed in to the attack, hurrying to finish his foes quickly.  Alas, they were not about to oblige.  The Vast Imperial pilots stuck to their plan, one engaging him while the other tried to slip around behind him.  Much as Eight mentally derided their stunning lack of originality, the two hostiles had obviously worked on the timing and skill of their routine, and were highly effective.

Snarling, Eight twisted around, squeezing a few shots at the one playing decoy before coming around to evade the approach of the other.  Just one of you hold still so I can waste you!  He thought.  This is taking forever!

A full forty seconds had now elapsed since Seven’s demand for help, which in a dog fight was an eternity.  Eight knew that he had to finish this now.

Growing impatient, he threw caution to the wind and just homed in on one of the VE TIEs, firing like crazy.  He knew that this was playing into their hands, allowing the other to get around behind him, but Eight had to take the chance.  If he could take out the one in front fast enough, the other would not have time to get in position.

“Just one good hit and you’re dead...” He roared, and then trailed off.

He would never find out if his all-or-nothing gambit would actually pay off or not.  For at that moment, a third and forth enemy fighter came into view.

“No... That’s not fair...” He protested meekly, as the new arrivals opened fire.

And just like that, Mistblade Eight was gone instantly.  Battle has no place for a fool.


OOC:

1316 words.  Part two of the ‘The Veteran, The Fool, and The Rookie’.

AAR:  Despite the elite screening process of the Imperial Dominion’s Mistblade Squadron, a headstrong pilot, Mistblade Eight, lurks among their ranks.  Growing impatient with Bomber escort duty, he is spurred into action by the destruction of the Countenance. He flies into a trap and is swiftly overwhelmed.  He will not be missed.
FO/MCPO Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][MiD][=*Eng*=]

"If the crew doesn't hate the XO, then he's not doing his job." - Colonel Saul Tigh
Trykon
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Trykon
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 6, 2012 3:19:58 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
The bridge of the Surprise fell silent, as Captain Wyl Trykon and his crew waited for the commander of the boarding action to respond.  “I say again, this is Surprise Actual for Major Haring: have you secured the Loyalty’s secondary bridge?” Trykon repeated.  The silence seemed to drag on for minutes.

“Affirmative, Surprise,” a tired-sounding but unmistakably exultant voice finally answered, and several crewers released muffled yelps of celebration.

Trykon held up his hand for silence, and leaned in closer to the speakers at the communications station.  “Major Haring?” he said dubiously.

There was a crackle of static.  “I regret to report that Major Haring is KIA,” the voice responded at length.  “He was right beside me when we breached.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Trykon said carefully, if not convincingly, “but if that’s the case I want to know who in the hell I’m speaking to!”

There was another pause.  The members of the bridge crew shared concerned glances: the speaker on the comm wasn’t following standard procedures, and their captain was clearly concerned.  And when Wyl Trykon had a bad feeling about something, his crew had learned to pay heed.  “Report!” Trykon yelled.

“This is Acrimonious Actual,” the almost-sheepish reply came at last.

“Dybbuk!” Trykon barked, on top of the surprised and relieved murmuring of everyone listening in.  “What in the hell are you doing on the Loyalty?!”

“I led the assault, sir,” Sheol Dybbuk said evenly.  “I left Raymius in charge of Acrimonious.  The ship wasn’t going anywhere once we crash-landed in the main hangar, and I felt that having a flag officer leading the boarders would be good for morale.  So,” he concluded, “I led the assault.”

Trykon looked at the faces all around him, and saw the admiration evident upon them.  He frowned, and nodded.  “We’ll talk about it later, Sheol.  For now, good work.  You know the plan, so get to it: get that big, beautiful death machine closer to Abrae, and our orbital stations will give you some cover.  Once the Dominion realizes we have control, it’s going to get rough.  And don’t forget about the ID crewers who are still alive!  Isolate any remaining cells of resistance and offer them terms.  If they refuse, vent them into space.”  Trykon noted the few of his subordinates who shuddered at that last.  Oh, what do you expect? he thought bitterly.  If they don’t surrender, we can’t allow them to roam the corridors of our new prize sabotaging equipment, or let them jury-rig a turbolaser battery so they can manually target our fleet.  I said he should offer them quarter first.  His frown deepened.  I’m not a monster, he told himself yet again.

Dybbuk’s response intruded on Trykon’s thoughts: “Aye sir.  You can count on us.  This is Loyalty Actual, over and out,” he signed off jauntily.  The transmission cut out, and another ragged cheer went up from the Surprise’s bridge crew.

“You’re an insufferable showoff, Sheol,” Trykon muttered, “but you do get the job done.”  Then, louder: “Okay, team, with our help they’ve done it!  But now they need us more than ever.  We have to keep them alive long enough to reach the protection of the Golan Weapons Platforms!  Let’s get to it!”

OOC:
540 words.

AAR: Sheol Dybbuk leads his boarding teams to the secondary bridge of the Loyalty, and wrests control from the defenders.  The Loyalty is under VE control!  Now, we have to get the big Star Dreadnought closer to Abrae itself, where it will have the protection of the orbital defense stations, because once the ID forces realize their flagship has been commandeered, they'll likely prefer to see it destroyed, rather than to see it fall into our hands.
Imperial Network Star Wars Image

SCAP/LTJG Wyl Trykon/SMC Surprise/TF:B/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
CNT/LTJG Wyl "Trick" Trykon/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA][SoV][BWC][NSM][E][NAR][HNS][DSM][SWC][1NS][VC:B][LoM][VC:S][NC][GWC]/(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)

TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
Drac
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Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Captain
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 8, 2012 9:03:50 AM    View the profile of Drac 
“Captain Mihawk! Priority signal from the Surprise!”

Drac looked up from his tactical screens and nodded, “Put Captain Trykon up on holoprojector three, please.” Then, turning, he regarded said holoprojector as the cruiser’s captain appeared, “What do you have for me, Mr. Trykon?”

Wyl gave his superior a short nod, “Sir. The boarding team reports the successful seizure of the Loyalty’s auxiliary bridge.”

The Mon Calamari smiled, consciously choosing the human mannerism, “Excellent. Have you informed the Admiral?”

“I did so just prior to informing you, sir. Atrus is maintaining fire for now to extend the guise that the ID still command Loyalty, but is moving to a fire pattern that should minimize actual damage.”

“Very good.Did the Major report on his casualties?”

Trick frowned, “I’m afraid he’s dead, sir. Captain Dybukk of the Acrimonious took his place and led the assault, having judged his ship too damaged to lift again after crash landing in the Loyalty’s main hangar.”

“I see. What’s the word on the remaining resistance within the Loyalty?”

“I haven’t heard much yet. Crew in a few areas have surrendered already and are locked down until we can board enough marines to police them. Other areas are refusing to respond to our attempts to communicate…and reports of attempts to sabotage critical systems are beginning to trickle in. Other crewmembers have jumped into escape pods- some of those escaped, others were locked in their pods when we shut them down.”

“I see,” Drac nodded, frowning, “Trick, we can’t afford to lose the Loyalty after what we’ve gone through to take her. What are you doing to curb the sabotage attempts?”

Wyl’s expression might…might…have flickered for a moment just before he replied, “We’ve tracked the locations of those attempting sabotage. In response, we’ve removed all atmosphere from those compartments, sometimes explosively.”

The Captain felt his expression harden just a bit, “Lieutenant, I’d prefer not to kill anyone we don’t have to.” He held up a hand to forestall the human’s reply, “Not only due to what we’ve discussed on the subject before, but due to practical consideration. There are tens of thousands of crewmembers still aboard that ship, including a good portion of her officer corps and many others who could well be valuable intelligence resources. It’s alarming enough the Imperial Dominion has…had…one of these Star Dreadnoughts. We need to know if they’re building more.”

“How do you suggest I not kill them and keep the ship, sir?”

Drac allowed himself a small, neutral smile. Regardless of how he felt about the man, Trick was a very sharp officer. Noting an option the human had missed was a relatively rare occurrence, and something to take a small measure of pleasure from, “Captain Dybukk has control of the life support atmosphere control units, correct? That’s how you’re decompressing the trouble compartments?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Simple, then. Remove only enough atmosphere to ensure that all crewmembers in that area fall unconscious, but not enough to completely asphyxiate them. They sleep out the battle without causing us fits, and live to have conversations with your…friends…over in VENI.”

Trick looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded, “Aye, sir. I’ll pass that on to Dybukk.”

“Excellent. Now, does he have navigational control?”

Wyl paused for a moment, his holographic representation looking to one side as he received a report from one of his bridge crew, “Yes, Captain. Loyalty awaits your orders.”

A moment later a second hologram shimmered into place beside Tryk, grainy and indistinct by comparison- entirely to be expected, since it was from a portable unit the boarders had brought with them on their mission. Drac returned the man’s salute, noting a burn on the man’s sleeve and recognizing it as a graze from a blaster bolt, “Captain Dybukk. Boldly done. What is your status?”

“Thank you, sir. We’ve got almost all bridge operations up and running for the Loyalty, and are in the process of implementing your orders regarding life support.”

“Good. Please begin the maneuvers I discussed with yourself and Mr. Trykon before the battle.”

“Aye, Captain Mihawk. Loyalty will be underway within a minute or so.”

“Very good. Gentlemen, I’ll let you return to your respective tasks. Please keep me updated as you progress.” Drac returned the officers’ salutes, then watched their holograms fade out.

Serpent, who had been standing to the side so as to remain out of view of the holocamera that broadcast Drac’s image back to the other ships, stepped back in, “Sir?” His expression was a mixture of eagerness, satisfaction, and pleading.

Eh, why not?’ Drac thought to himself. Running the fingers of his left hand through his barbells, he nodded, “Announce it- to the bridge only. And then monitor communications for the next few minutes. Word of this is NOT to be broadcast without my permission.”

The young man saluted, “Aye, sir. I understand.” Then he turned and took a step or two away before raising his voice, “Loyalty is ours!”

The bridge rang with cheers.

The dark skinned amphibian let it go on for a moment, then stood and spoke, “Back to your tasks, everyone. The battle is not yet over.” A shudder ran through the Halcyon Warrior a moment later, almost as a punctuation to his statement.

Drac checked a status report and growled under his breath. A flight of TIE Bombers had made it through the fighter screen and had struck at the main communications nodule in front of the bridge tower. The first several bombs had merely struck the shield, but the last pair got through. Fortunately, the bomber in question was performing an evasive maneuver as it released its ordinance, which had thrown off its aim. The proton bombs missed to port, leaving the communications nodule undamaged but impacted on the hull nearby and detonated. The resulting crater was eleven meters wide and nearly that deep. Emergency lockdown doors in the area had activated, but that hadn’t saved the crewmembers within the three compartments that were exposed to vacuum.

Then a wing pair of Interceptors flashed past, firing as they came. The offending TIE Bomber erupted into a golden fireball as verdant green lasers punched into its engines. The two Interceptors swirled up and back, reversing their course with a neat immelman, and waggled their solar panels as they flashed past the bridge. Drac silently nodded his thanks as they ran back out to their places in the fighter screen.

He was silent, though, as he looked at the gaping wound in his ship. His Warrior had outlived her main opponent thus far, and the remains of the Countenance drifted in half a dozen large chunks and hundreds or thousands of smaller pieces forming a debris field that would orbit Abrae for years to come. They’d burned for a short while, lit by fires set by the chain explosions that tore the once-mighty warship asunder. But the atmosphere within the shattered hulk fled quickly, and without air the fires had soon died out. It drifted now, a cold and silent tomb.

Though his ship had survived, it was far from unharmed. Drac knew that the crater he was staring at was only one of nearly twenty hull breaches of similar size that dotted his Star Destroyer. Weapons were reported that, of the original armament, only 80% of the Warrior’s guns were still capable of firing on the enemy. Shields were low also, and the TIE squadrons the ship carried had been cut down by almost 30% of their original number. The Halcyon Warrior and her crew were battered indeed, but they’d given better than they got, and even a score of ten-meter craters weren’t enough to actually cripple a ship over a kilometer long.

And that was good, because the job wasn’t done yet.

Outside, the Loyalty began to accelerate. It kept firing at the Atrus as it did, in an intentional ploy to make whoever was now commanding the ID forces assume that someone had survived to command from the auxiliary bridge- someone who was now attempting a different tactic against the more massive Vast Imperial Star Dreadnought.

And so the ID forces tried to follow their massive flagship, forcing their way through the screen the Vast Imperial fleet had interposed- and accepting the casualties and damage that came with that. The Loyalty itself pushed ahead, firing as it went and accepting Atrus’s fire in return. It accelerated past the mSSD in a maneuver that most would interpret as an attempt to cross the other ship’s “T”- an absolutely ancient, and absolutely effective, naval tactic.

~~~~~

Captain Genalla of the Imperial-II Class Star Destroyer Visage frowned in confusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the officers aboard the Loyalty- whoever was in command now that the bridge was gone. He just couldn’t figure out why they were choosing to cross the T where they were. Even if they outmaneuvered Atrus, their starboard side would face a quartet of Golan Space Defense platforms in position in a nearby orbit. The platforms were immobile, but each commanded as much firepower as a Star Destroyer- not something even the Loyalty should be messing with while also playing tag with the larger Super Star Destroyer.

What was worse, it appeared that the communications systems aboard the Loyalty had been disrupted by the destruction of the bridge. His Comms officers had yet to succeed in contacting whoever was commanding the dreadnought now.

Then the Golans opened fire…and Captain Genalla felt a cold knot of fear settle deep in his belly. Every shot from the defensive emplacements missed the Loyalty, instead sweeping past it and menacing his Visage and the other ships remaining to the Dominion’s fleet. And there was absolutely no possible way they could legitimately miss with every shot. Not against a ship that size.

Over the next few moments shouted reports and his own observations confirmed for Genalla that something was terribly, hideously wrong. The Atrus, rather than turning to present its port flank to the Loyalty and its starboard flank to the rest of the ID fleet, had begun to slide backward on a shallow arc that would leave it between the Golans…and facing his forces with its starboard flank. What was worse, it had stopped firing on the Loyalty…which had stopped firing on it also. In fact, the Loyalty hadn’t even turned to cross the T. Instead it continued straight, plunging toward Abrae between the Golans that still refused to fire on it.

That cold lump of fear crystallized into a nauseating ball of ice in his core as the Star Destroyer captain realized his position. In front, the Atrus, one of the most powerful warships in the galaxy, with four Golan platforms bracketing it. Behind it, the Loyalty…now settling down, while his sensors reported its only active weapons were point-defense canons meant to fire upon attacking starfighters. And behind…a concave disk of Vast Imperial warships, centered on the blackened and pitted Halcyon Warrior. Even damaged as it was it could still present quite a threat. He could almost see that kriffing fish smirking at him from its bridge.

Just behind and above the Warrior hung the small interdictor the counter-attackers had brought with them. Genalla realized that to get out of this increasingly bleak situation, he’d need to either destroy it or get out of its cone of gravity. The best way to do either was to assault it…it and the flagship that fracking alien commanded.

At his request the Comms officers put him through on the fleet-wide encrypted channel, “All ships, this is Captain Genalla of the Visage speaking. As of now I am taking command of all remaining Dominion forces in the system. Loyalty is lost to us…and there’s no chance of punching through to at least deny her to the enemy. We’ve lost this round. But we will remove that interdictor and kill the Halcyon Warrior before punching out through the very center of their arrogant formation. Then we will leave this system…but someday we shall return, and then WE will carry the day…all ships come about on the following heading…”

OOC:
Word Count: 2,016

AAR: Drac receives reports regarding the successful boarding of the Loyalty, then issues orders concerning the next steps to be taken with the newly captured ship. It fakes an assault on the Atrus and pushes forward to hide behind four Golan Space Defense stations and the Atrus while the Imperial Dominion forces that followed it are trapped between those forces and Drac’s fleet behind them. One of the remaining Impstar Deuce captains takes command of the ID fleet when he recognizes the situation and orders all of their ships to punch through Drac’s fleet…by way of destroying the Halcyon Warrior and the Binder, our interdictor.

Orders:
-Starfighters: Some fighter craft will be trying to sneak through to take out the Loyalty so we can’t have it. Don’t let them. Also, most of their remaining fighters will be coming in at the two ships I mentioned at the end of the AAR there. I need you to break up bomber formations and eliminate as many fighters as possible as well.
-Ships: Aside from the Atrus and the Surprise (which is still with the Loyalty, I believe), we’re all in a bowl shaped formation with the Halcyon Warrior and the Binder at the center. We need to make sure those two ships survive and to do as much damage as possible to the Dominion fleet as they punch through.

Remaining Imperial Dominion capital ships:
ISD-IIs: 2, Visage and Aspect
ISD-Is: 2
VSD-IIs: 2
VSD-Is: 3
Imp. Frigates: 1
Dreadnoughts: 2
Lancers: 1
Strikes: 1
Various smaller ships. Use as many CR-90s, DP-20s, etc as you like.

Definite free-fire zone. Let’s see what you guys can do! Just keep it reasonable, no godmodding, etc. Also: Do not destroy the Visage. Destroy the other Star Destroyers only with my approval. PM me and describe how you’d like to write it to get approval.
TFC/CAPT Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
Chief of Naval Warfare
CNW|Captain Drac|NHC|VEN|VE
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."
Serpent
ComNet Member
Imperial Baronet

 
Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 12, 2012 8:27:41 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail staggered slightly as he hurried across the bridge, another impact against the command tower of the Halcyon Warrior sending a shudder through those bridge officers currently on their feet.  A few stumbled and cursed, but Pherik stayed upright.

Zail wondered for a half second just what had hit them this time, and glanced towards the Cerean woman at the Defence Officer’s station.  The alien caught the First Officer’s eye, and confirmed “Torpedo impact!  No hull breach though!”

Serpent breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded on his way to his destination.  All around him the bridge was a frenzy of activity.  The noise of battle, hull impacts, shouted orders, curses and more, provided a mad cacophony that he had rarely heard on the bridge of the Star Destroyer.  The crew were skilled and dedicated, but the Battle of Abrae was starting to fray the nerves of even the Halcyon Warrior’s elite bridge personnel.

Reaching the Engineering station, Serpent looked down at the lanky human seated there.  Petty Officer Connells was not the Chief of the ISD’s massive Engineering department, but, with Chief Marril occupied elsewhere, Connells was the appointed bridge liaison.

“What’s happened?” Asked Zail.  “Why did you call me over?”

“It’s bad, sir,” Said Connells, running a sweaty hand through a thick mop of sandy-coloured hair.  “The central power grid of the Warrior is under heavy strain.  Our main guns are firing almost continually, and the shields are only holding because masses of our reserve power is being channelled into them.”

Serpent did not like where this exchange was headed.  Apparently the battle with the rival Star Destroyer Countenance had taken more of a toll than he feared.  “How much longer can we hold it together?”

“Hard to say, sir,” Came Connells’ rather unhelpful reply.  “We can handle simple starfighter assaults, but if we get entangled in another major capital ship engagement, I fear the grid will fail...”

“And we’ll be without shields, guns, or a chance for survival,” Serpent finished the thought.  “Keep liaising with the Chief, and have every engineer on the ship redouble their efforts.  We are depending on you,” He told Connells, and turned and marched back across the bridge to the Captain.

He rejoined Drac at the tactical hologram, and for a moment marvelled at the sight he saw rendered in red and green light.  The amusingly named Allegiance-Class Super Star Destroyer Loyalty had changed sides, and its colouring on the display had changed as well.

The Loyalty had been stormed and taken by Vast Imperial forces, and was now under their command.  The audacity of swiping the behemoth from the Imperial Dominion in the midst of a battle deeply impressed Zail.  It was the sort of event that naval historians spoke of in awe, and he was honoured to be part of it.

“What news from Engineering, Pherik?” Asked Captain Mihawk, his large Mon Cal eyes locked firmly on the disposition of forces laid out on the image before him, barely glancing at his XO.

“In a word, bad,” Replied Serpent without preamble.  “The power grid is on the verge of total collapse.  Sir, we have the Loyalty and the Imperial Dominion fleet is surrounded.  The battle is won.”

Drac slowly turned his alien head to regard his XO.  “What are you saying, Serpent?” He asked carefully.

“We are exhausted, sir,” Said Zail bluntly.  “The rest of the fleet can take it from here.  There is no shame if we withdraw now.”

The Mon Cal’s face hardened.  “Is running away something that they teach you at VENI, Pherik?” He asked in a low voice.  Neither of them wanted the crew to overhear this conversation.

Mention of Serpent’s divided loyalties came as a slap to the human’s face, but he recovered quickly.  “I am merely pointing out, sir, that after the Battle of Belgaroth this ship spent weeks undergoing repairs.  We cannot have that happen again.  The Imperial Dominion will come after us again soon, either to reclaim the Loyalty or avenge its loss.  We will need powerful ships like the Halcyon Warrior to repel them.  My recommendation is not born from cowardice but from prudence.”

Drac seemed to consider this for a moment.  If he regretted accusing Zail of wanting to run away he did not show it, and nor did Serpent expect his commanding officer to give an apology.  Eventually, the other said, “I understand your concerns, Pherik.  However, the trick of command is to project confidence, even when you don’t feel it yourself.  This ship will not back down.  We will serve as a model to every other vessel in the Vast Empire fleet.  As long as we fight, so shall they.”

Zail considered Drac’s words, and was about to point out that the rest of the fleet was probably taking its lead from the Atrus, rather than the Warrior, but no.  His superior was the Chief of Naval Warfare.  It would not serve morale for him to run from anything.

“I understand, sir,” Said Serpent at last.  “I was just voicing my concerns.  Thank you for hearing me out.”

Drac nodded.  “Now, the final battle begins,” He said, and gestured to the hologram.

Only now did Zail see what his superior had been staring at.  The Imperial Dominion fleet was forming up around a Star Destroyer called the Visage, forming an arrow of firepower hell-bent on breaking through the Vast Imperial fleet to freedom.

The tip of that arrow was aimed at the Halcyon Warrior.

Serpent had a bad feeling about this, but he braced himself for the coming struggle.

“Your orders, sir?” He asked, and then dedicated himself to his superior’s reply.


OOC:

946 words.  A ‘deleted scene’ of the above post would have had Drac echo Tarkin and say “Withdraw?  In our moment of triumph?  I think you overestimate their chances.”  However, I scrapped it in favour of something a little more tense and playing into the small but growing rift between Zail and Drac.  It worked out okay!


AAR:  The Halcyon Warrior is in bad shape from the battle so far, and First Officer Serpent is worried about the damage.  Seeing the battle as all but over, he suggests to Captain Drac to withdraw and leave the fighting to others, but the Chief of Naval Warfare is having none of it.  The slight edge in their exchange is a further sign of the sudden distrust between them, brought on by the revelation of Zail’s VENI ties.
FO/MCPO Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][MiD][=*Eng*=]

"If the crew doesn't hate the XO, then he's not doing his job." - Colonel Saul Tigh
Scral
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Scral
 
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class
 
Post Number:  56
Total Posts:  71
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 13, 2012 2:14:48 PM    View the profile of Scral 
The room was brightly lit, if a bit on the noisy side of things. He could feel the Atrus ripple slightly as the turbo lasers continued to fire. Laying on the hard cot Trimic starred at the ceiling as the guard continued his patrol. The fleets psychiatrist flipped another paper from his file and muttered very softly.

Stretching his legs he ignored the younger woman, a part of him welcomed what was coming. He knew the Navy was only looking for one more piece of evidence to kick him out. To them he was unstable, volatile, insecure, and no doubt insane. Having the executive officer of your own squadron shot down by your own laser blasts was just the icing on the cake.

After that moment hours ago he had been ordered back aboard, it did not take long before she had arrived with his file. He knew what was written on those pages, it was not the first time a psychiatrist had talked to him. He was a former member of Regents squadron, they had a full time psychiatrist assigned to them at all times.

Scratching a bare shoulder he adjusted the black sleeveless undershirt where his flight suit should covering up. Instead the top half was folded around his waist, the life support part was laying in a pile on the floor. His comlink was clipped to the outside of his shirt, every few minutes he could hear snippets of the battle.

"Dyr'Jin, tell me about what happened on Naboo." The psychiatrist's soft voice carried into his small cell after nearly a minute of silence.

He ignored the jibe to pull something out of him, there was only one person he would even consider talking to about that day. Right now she was out there showing the enemy why Regents had earned the silver and black time and again. Part of him always worried about Maroy, but he knew she would fly out of any really sticky situation. Tuk'ata was not Regents, but they were capable pilots in their own right. Besides, she had been through worse than this simple chicken shoot.

After a few moments of silence he heard the static from the squadron's frequency clear for a few moments. A voice he would recognize in an instant came over the line, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for this." Squinting at the ceiling he unclipped the comm link and pressed it to his ear as the static started to fill in the silence again. "This ... eight... won't .. back. Maybe ... take ... frakkers with me."

Removing the piece from his ear slowly as the static took over again he sat up slowly as his mind worked over what he had just heard. He noticed the psychiatrist look up to stare at him but he ignored her. "Ship's damaged, no support. Saying goodbye, knowing no one will hear her. Saying good bye to him. One final message before she enters the void."

"Who are you talking about?" The young woman asked as she walked up to the bars of his cage.

"No wing support, no one to watch her back." He said quietly again. "Who was with her? Hades, the XO." Looking up to stare at the psychiatrist he finished the sentence. "I'm six, without the XO I had operational command. She's flying solo."

Dropping his arms he pulled up his flight suit and began sealing himself inside. Stepping over to his life support equipment and helmet he leaned down and began strapping it into place.

"You do know you are still in a cage right?" The woman asked as she watched him.

Continuing the process of fitting the life support gear into place he looked up at her for a moment before looking down and saying, "When she died in front of me, my reason for living was gone. Why do you think I went to Regents in the first place? The one squadron that barely walked the line, we pulled those things off not because we were damn good pilots. We did those things because we all had a want to meet Death, I don't know if I'm going to die today. I do know a very good friend of mine is about to, she needs my help." Finishing strapping everything into place over his black suit he starred into the woman's eyes before saying, "Now, you have two choices. Either tell that guard to take out his sidearm and put a bullet through my brain pan, or open this door so I can go save my friend. I am unstable, insecure, emotionally traumatized, everyone is to some extent. I did not shoot the XO, that was an accident as the flight log has not doubt told you by now. I am useless on the ground, I was born to be in a cockpit though. Let me prove myself for once, let me go save her."

He watched her as she mulled everything over, he knew he could not break out of the cell by himself. If they did not open this door he would end his life today if he had to listen to another one die as he stood by helpless. Maroy had been the one to pull him back from the brink, he needed to start paying off that debt.

Motioning to the guard she stepped back as the door was opened slowly. "Happy hunting, Dyr'Jin."

Sprinting out of the cell he clipped his helmet into place as he changed frequencies to the ship's hangar bay where his Interceptor should hopefully still be sitting. "Flight deck, this is Tuk six. Emergency pre-flight for Interceptor 36-7-46. In route, ETA two minutes."

Running through the passageways of what he still considered a very ugly ship gave him purpose for once in so long. He could feel the blood pumping through his body as he dodged around crew members running around performing damage control, and their duties. His duty was to be with his squadron, helping them, watching over them. He was one of the best the Navy had, it was his job to mentor the younger ones so they stayed alive.

Skidding around the hangar bay door he climbed the gangway quickly as he dropped into his Interceptor, finishing the pre-flight someone had been doing he strapped himself into the seat and eased power into the repulsorlifts as he brought his craft around away from the maintenance sector. Punching the throttle he shot out of the forcefield, grunting slightly he felt the inertial dampners trying to catch up as he brought his fighter up and over the Atrus.

Looking down as his scanner he picked up her fighter with more none friendly contacts around her than he felt good about. "Tuk flight, this is six. Rendezvous at eight's location. Emergency protocol six six zero." He knew a tongue lashing was coming his way, but as the next in line in Besh flight he was technically acting XO. If him taking this roll saved someone's life he would welcome the aftermath.

"Tuk eight, can you read?" He said as he closed the distance towards her location. "I repeat, Tuk eight this is six, can you read?"


"Frak me, just a complete frak me." He said mostly to himself. Feeling a soft rumble behind him he looked over at a monitor as he watched the overload gauge on the engines move closer to the redline. "Hold together you bastard, just a few more moments. Death, I know you are watching this I'll welcome you with open arms if you give me just a few more moments."

Dropping in behind an enemy fighter that had Maroy bracketed, he squeezed the trigger as crimson light began streaming across the other ship. "That's right, no easy kills for you." Diving up and over as the fighter exploded he dropped in beside Maroy's rather damaged looking Interceptor.

"You know, this does not pay off my debt to you but I think it helps just a bit." He said softly, looking up at the gauge he watched the engines dip slowly back towards the safe zone.


OOC:
WC-1364. Scral is back, he was sent to the brig after the XO's death. This explains his absence. Deciding to step into a roll he has ignored for a long time he entered the fight again, this time with a slightly better sense of duty. Still unstable, but now he's a bit more under control.
Trimik Dyr'Jin
Callsign Scral, Petty Officer Second Class,
Beta Flight, Beta Two, Tuk'ata Squadron

FM|PO2 Trimik "Scral" Dyr'Jin|B-2|26th Vast Imp. Fighter Squadron "Tuk'ata" |W:58 "Javelin"|mSSD Atrus|TF:A|1FL|SFC|VEN|VE
[MC1] [MC2] {=A=} (=^TG^=)
"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."
Maroy
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Maroy
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  476
Total Posts:  718
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 13, 2012 11:03:06 PM    View the profile of Maroy 
Maroy's damaged fighter shook as the fragments of her would-be murderer splattered against her unshielded aft. She slowly opened her eyes, She took one look at the ID of the fighter who saved her and immediately grinned. She tuned the comm for tight beam signals, hoping to cut through the interference.

[[You know ... this does not pay off ... debt to you ... it helps just a bit.]]

She chuckled. "Nice to see you too, Scral."

Apparently remembering protocol, her rescuer opened the squadron channel. [[Tuk'ata Lead, permission to regroup?]] There was a long pause, but no reply came.

[[Lead?]]

Hades' voice came back. [[She's here, but she's not responding to anyone.]]

[[Tuk'ata, this is Six. In light of the XO's death and SC's effective absence, I'm assuming the role of acting XO. Regroup at my position.]]

"While we're waiting for that, Scral... Those bombers?"

He waggled his TIE's solar panels in response and accelerated out toward the Dominion fighters. She strained her own Interceptor's sparking engines to keep up, hoping the machine wouldn't somehow spontaneously explode. The two bombers spotted them and split off in opposite directions.

[[I call the one on the right.]]

She clicked her comm in response and rolled to the left, tracking the portside bomber as it came into targeting range. The massive profile of the Surprise occupied the space behind it, making the enemy ship seem much less significant than its payload would suggest. It began jinking to get out of her sights, but kept moving in the Surprise's general direction. Must be getting close to bombing range. This can't take too long. She fired a couple times, but the blasters had fallen out of alignment from all the debris collisions. Her engines strained some more in an attempt to close the gap. The Dominion pilot began evading in earnest, going through a wide rolling turn that put it back on its initial trajectory. Maroy attempted to follow, but her Interceptor wasn't up for it and she ended up turning too slowly.

The bomber closed with the Surprise and launched a torpedo. It sped toward the larger ship, an insignificant speck of light next to the cold grey behemoth. It impacted the shields, creating a fireball that scorched the hull and caused a small hull breach. Maroy winced in sympathy with the crewmen caught in the blast and began spewing bright green blaster bolts at the bomber. Trapped in the fury, it tried to launch another torpedo before it was destroyed. Rolling into pursuit behind it, Maroy fired indiscriminately. The bomber fired a few shots of its own, but she accelerated and jinked to avoid the majority of it. One of her bolts finally scored a hit, destroying the projectile harmlessly. She pulled back on the flight controls, rolling into a sharp half-loop that brought her back into line with the upper half of the bomber. A few more shots and the Dominion pilot was just another statistic.

Glancing at the display she noted that Scral had already annihilated his own target, and the majority of the surviving Tuk'atans had arrived. They formed back up, and Maroy ran a quick diagnostic of her ship's systems.

"Ryuno, you still with us?"

[[I'm here.]]

"We won't last much longer out here with our fighters trashed. We need to get back to the Atrus as soon as possible. Six, can you call in?"

The comm was silent for a moment before Scral responded. [[They said there's too many turbolasers and enemy fighters concentrating around the hangar to land safely.]]

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

[[... playing chicken with turbolaser fire? Fact is, those gunners can't hit the broadside of a womprat. However, they don't have to hit us to make us into shiny atoms. Yea, why not... sounds like fun. Tuk'ata, we need to get these pilots through and clear out the enemy fighter screen. Stick together.]]

Maroy transferred all the ship's power from weapons to engines and pushed her fighter to stay in formation. As they neared the Atrus, Maroy could see why the officer had been concerned. Aware of their imminent defeat, the Dominion seemed to be intent on doing as much damage as possible and were swarming the capital ships with any fighter on hand.

Well, this should be interesting...

OOC:
WC: 713
AAR: Tuk'ata's commander is off in a blood rage, so Scral takes temporary command of the squadron. The bombers threatening the Surprise are finished off, and the squadron regroups in order to escort the two damaged interceptors before they can land in the hangar for repairs.
SC/MCPO Maroy/B-4/S:26 Tuk'ata/W:58 Javelin/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1FL/SFC/VEN/VE (=*A*=) [GCM] [CBV] [IG] [MC2] [MC1]
Echelon
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Echelon
 
[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer
 
Post Number:  391
Total Posts:  546
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  RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible
June 14, 2012 10:33:54 AM    View the profile of Echelon 
“Attention to 1st Fleet. Attention. Are there any ships who are currently unoccupied in battle at the moment?” The crackly audio was flung into communications officer Jaeus Stenard’s headset. Immediately, he stopped his current task, which he deemed minor and unimportant, and sent a quick reply over the frequency.

“This is the Merrimack,” he began, “We’re currently unoccupied in combat and patrolling above the fleet.” He ended as quickly and briefly as he began; no time could be wasted in this decisive battle. The radio was silent for a moment, only the crackling static breaking through to Stenard’s ears. Then, a reply.

“Sending the details now. We have another Strike-class cruiser, the Monitor, coming in on our port flank. Destroy, disable, or fight off the ship. Do not let her get behind the fleet. Use whatever tactics necessary. Over, and out.” A moment after the transmission ended, a short little piece of paper was printed out, the detailed orders printed on it.

Raising the paper high, Stenard yelled across the noisy bridge, “New orders for the Merrimack.” The Executive Officer of the ship, Lieutenant Orwell, snatched the paper, glancing at it briefly before handing it over to the captain who stood firmly at the front of the bridge.

“New orders for the Merrimack, sir,” Orwell stated. Captain Buchanan skimmed the orders, his eyes darting back and forth, before sticking it in his front pocket.

Raising an eyebrow and grinning slightly, Buchanan spoke, “So the Dominion is trying to out maneuver us, eh? We’ll stop ‘em.” Turning around, so he faced the rest of the bridge, he yelled, “Alright crew. We seem to have a Strike-class cruiser that broke out of our bowl formation. We’re to keep them from coming and flanking the fleet. Helms, bring us to the extreme port side of the fleet. Weaponry, prepare for battle. Defense, get our shields up. All o’ you other youngin’s, just do what you normally do.” Hearing that, the crew of the bridge kicked into action, typing away on their consoles, and relaying sub-orders to each other.

Meanwhile, Orwell, who was intently pondering the forthcoming battle, was having some afterthoughts. “Captain,” he started, “You do realize that the Monitor has the exact same armament as us?”

The cheerful Captain nodded. “That is correct, my boy.”

“Well sir, then they have just as much of a chance as we do. In the end, it will all fall down to tactics.”

“And yer point?”

The First Officer frowned. His point wasn’t getting across. “I’m afraid we’re going to make a mistake tactically, and it will cost us the battle.”

Buchanan nodded slightly, understanding what Orwell had said. “Well, think of it this way. They have just as much o’ a chance as we do to make a mistake. Right?”

“Well sir, I’m just afraid their captain is going to be much more clever than you...” His voice trailed off as he realized that it may have not had been the most respectful thing to say.

“Alright, listen here, my boy. Stop worrying. We have to live in the moment. We will fight out best, right?” He nodded. “Alright, then we have nothing to worry about. I’ve got twenty years o’ experience under my belt. Just leave it to me.” With that, Buchanan slapped his officer on the back, but in the end, Orwell didn’t feel any better.

With that, the Merrimack set off, trailed by her brightly glowing engines.

Space was a funny thing. You can look at it, but you can never know how far away it is. In space, there is nothing to judge your distance by, except another object. But even then, you can’t tell the size of the ship, for you have nothing to compare it to. In short, navigating by visuals is very difficult in space, even without throwing in the three dimensional element. Luckily, Captain Buchanan has his sensors team, but he liked to try and stare out the viewport, trying to scale things correctly. In the distance, he spotted a tiny fleck of light. Bigger than a star, but still very small. As they continued forward, the speck began to grow. Larger and larger, until he could fully make the outline of it. It was clearly the Monitor, and she was coming in fast.

“Sir!” a sensors officer yelled, “She’s heading straight towards us!.”

Buchanan immediately realized what was happening; the Dominion captain couldn’t fool him. The Monitor was on a direct collision course in hopes of causing the Merrimack to slow down. Then, the Monitor would use its speed and the moment to hit the Merrimack hard with fire, and since the Merrimack had slowed down, it couldn’t out maneuver the cannon fire. Thankfully, Buchanan wasn’t going to let it happen.

“Keep on goin’! Full speed ahead!” the captain ordered.

“But sir,” his Executive Officer exclaimed, “They’re trying to ram us!”

“No they’re not. Just trust me, I pulled this maneuver a long time ago as well. I know what he is trying to do.” Straight out the viewport, the bow of the ship could be seen, its metallic surface shining from the Vectrian sun. It appeared larger, and larger, and larger, until it seemed within grabbing distance.

The bridge crew looked on in terror. They thought it was really going to hit them. Then, when the ship was within 500 meters, it broke off to the Merrimack’s left.

Then, the captain screamed, “Fire!”

As the two ships passed side by side, each let out a firery array of cannon fire, each blast slamming into the side of the other ship. The shields absorbed most of the blasts, but every now and then, one would break through, sending fire and debris in all directions. It lasted for a few seconds before they completely passed each other, only their stern cannons firing.

“Damage report!” Orwell called out. Soon, a printed slip of paper was in his hands: the damage report.

“Let’s see it here, my boy.” Buchanan grabbed the slip, gazing over it briefly. Only minor hull breaches, all of which had been sealed off, and an estimated twenty casualties. So far, so good. “Helms, bring us out two kilometers away. I want to get us some time to position ourselves.”

After a few quiet, but suspenseful moments, the ship made it two kilometers away, but Buchanan sensed something was wrong.

“Sensors! Where is the Monitor?”

“She’s holding position where we engaged her.”

“She’s just sitting there...I wonder what she is waiting for-” In a confusing moment, the doors of the bridge exploded, the shockwave flinging Buchanan on his back. The room was filled was smoke, and he couldn’t see a thing. Then, the room flashed with light as he heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire.

What in the galaxy is going on?!

Then, a hoarse, raspy voice yelled, “Everyone! Get on the ground!” As the smoke began to dissipate, Buchanan could make out a few figures at the center of the bridge. Then, he noticed they were security guards. His security guards.

“What are you doing?!” he yelled, “Stand down now, or-”

“Shut up old man! Or your captain gets it!”

Captain?

Then, to his utter surprise, the rogue security guards had grabbed Orwell, his Executive Officer.

Frak! They must think he’s the captain! His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the situation. The bridge door was blown off, and the bridge security guards were on the ground, a pool of dark blood underneath them. There were six rogue security guards, and one had a pistol up to Orwell’s head.

“In the name of the Imperial Dominion!” the leader began, “We declare this ship ours!”

“Why did you betray-” A blaster bolt interrupted Buchanan, slamming into the wall beside him.

“I thought I told you to shut up, Gramps. Yeah, the Imperial Dominion paid us big bucks for this job. What are you, the Executive Officer?” Buchanan exchanged a glance at Orwell. He was dead pale, and there was a bloody cut on his cheek.

“Yes. I am.”

“Alright. That means we might just spare you in the end. Now, someone get me a communications link with the rest of the Vast Empire fleet! I need to tell them something.”

It was a selfish move, but he had more experience than Orwell, and it was up to him to get the ship out of this mess.

Raspy, as Buchanan decided to call him, strode over to the communications console where he began a transmission with the rest of the fleet.

“Dear Vast Imperials! I’m here, on the bridge of the Merrimack, with your captain and bridge crew hostage! Don’t try anything because I’ll kill them all! Now, this is what I want, cease your fire on the Dominion fleet! If you do not comply, I will kill all! Also, we will be attacking your rear if you do not comply!” He then let out an evil chuckle, and a wide grin. Buchanan knew this man was crazy.

Buchanan also knew he was about to die. The Vast Empire would never let a few hostages get in their way of victory, which would mean that the crew would be killed. The Monitor was also about to attack the Vast Empire’s backside, which could prove disastrous. It was now up to him to stop them.

OOC:
Word Count: 1,605. I hadn’t posted in awhile, so here I go! Not the best post in the world, but I think it presents an interesting storyline.

AAR: The Merrimack travels to attack the Monitor (get the reference?), but then an internal Dominion rebellion stops them, allowing the Monitor to attack the Vast Empire’s rear. Stay tuned for the next episode of: Out of the Invisible.

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DMG-CTRL Officer/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/mSSD Atrus/TF:A/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE

TO/CPO Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

[SoA] [NAR] [CAR] [MC2] [BWC] [HNS] [MC1] [SWC] [1NS] [=*ENG*=]
{VehM} {SfrM} {HypM} {Astr} {LogS} {Shut} {Gunn}

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