OOC:

This is an excerpt from my most recent post in Fy's CD story post. I know it's chancy to post it here, but I figured I might as well (that and Trick said I could submit it here for grading in either case). Rather than an Interceptor, he flies an ETA-2 starfighter against 4 A-Wing NR pilots, part of a patrol that's trying to keep him from escaping. It features Rem, a Rodian who is also escaping from Greylands.

WC = 930

As they reached the hangar, however, Fyston opened the canopy of an X-Wing, many of which were flown by the pilots that escorted the cargo ships in to Greylands. He nearly threw Rem in and was about to give him a crash course in piloting when he was cut off. "My parents were smugglers, I know how to fly!" Sighing, Fyston shouted a command at the navicomputer, unlocking it.

With that, Fyston rushed over to his own fighter and opened the canopy, leaping into the cockpit with a sense of joy. Slipping on his headset, he opened a link to Rem. Neither of them worried about buckling up for safety, though Fyston jokingly called Rem a "mother karker."

Simultaneously, the two fighters sped out of the hangar, their engines casting a glow on the other ships as they flew by.. As soon as they were clear of the hangar, the automated guns began firing in their direction, the red spurts lighting up the space in front of them as they passed. Both began performing evasive maneuvers, though it was obvious that Fyston had been trained. His moves were clean, practiced, and he was calm. Rem, having not flown in some time, was quite panicked and Fyston guessed that he would lose his hearing if Rem didn't stop screaming. "Shut up! We know where not to put you in the Vast Empire," he said with a smile, though that quickly faded even as they left the range of the defensive guns.

In front of them, however, were four A-Wing Interceptors. Many would be nervous or even scared, though Fyston had more than enough experience to deal with the slims. His ETA-2 was one of the older models, which meant he had shields to help protect him, shields of similar strength to his normal TIE-Interceptor.

"Enter these coordinates and signal your surrender as soon as you arrive. Go willingly and tell them that you're with Chief Petty Officer Fyston Sutsgy, serving with Nightshrike Squadron aboard the SSD Atrus under Seth Qorbin. My ID number is #98-B32.8-7. Tell them the truth and let them know that I'll be there shortly," he said as he transmitted all of the information. Rem wouldn't survive the dogfight that was fast approaching. As it were, Fyston would have to rely on the complex nature of the A-Wing's controls and apply as much pressure on taxing the New Republics pilots as he could. Well, there was that and there was the fact that the freighter that carried his hyperdrive ring had yet to arrive.

Even as they streamed towards the pair, Fyston shot into action, firing his laser cannons into the tightly grouped flight of New Republic fighters. He received a notification through his display that they were requesting a comm channel. Smiling to himself, he allowed the request. "New Republic Flight Leader Fenrith to Prisoner #91839-36-4-B. Stand down and deactivate your engines." Fyston scowled before replying, allowing a guttural sound to seep into his speech. "Vast Imperial Chief Petty Officer Sutsgy to New Republic scum. Stand down and get out of my way." With the sound of indignant anger, Fenrith replied. "You dare challenge us?" "Yes. Yes, I do. I'm going back to the VE, so you can either get out of my way and go home to the New Republic or you can end up as space dust." "Prepare to die, Imperial fool."

And so they began the dance that was a dogfight. Fyston sought altitude, though pulled behind one of the A-Wings. He was sandwiched between them, which suited him fine. He swerved his craft to dodge the bolts of red energy that threatened to kill him. All the while, his blue bolts stitched the space in front of the lead A-Wing. The shields shimmered with a hit and the Zabrak jerked his craft to the side, causing a red bolt to slam into the A-Wing. The resulting explosion sent shrapnel everywhere, though the dogfight had moved away.

Fyston heard the repetitive beeps that signaled an impending missile lock, though was unable to successfully out maneuver his foe to escape it. With his headset emitting a shrill ringing noise, Fyston groaned. His display showed him the distance between his fighter and the missile, a distance that was rapidly shrinking. Flipping a switch, he deployed countermeasures. At the same time, however, he was blindsided by one of the A-Wing pilots, who came at him from the left. His shields shimmered but held as three successive bolts hit and Fyston responded by increasing power to the shields.

Of course, that's not all he did. He shot upwards, performing an Immelmann that pointed him at the other two A-Wings. He fired thrice and one slammed into the starboard stabilizer, sending the fighter into a death-spiral. It was at that time that the familiar form of a freighter entered his viewport, eliciting a smile from the Zabrak.

Leaving the A-Wings to come about, he shot forward. He was already entering the coordinates into his navicomputer, though this would certainly be a narrow escape. The A-Wings began closing the distance as the freighter released a hyperdrive ring. They were within firing distance as Fyston locked his fighter into the ring and many of the bolts went through the space between his fighter and the ring, with enough hits to break his shields.

By the time they could fire their concussion missiles, however, Fyston was gone. As he set his head back, he realized he had been holding his breath. He had done it. He had escaped. He was going home.

OOC:

P.S. Checking my bank possessions list, he actually owns an ETA-5. If I need to make up a reason he's in an ETA-2, I will.