Sliding down from his fighter Joamer broke into a run as he nearly collided with other pilots standing around in the hangar. Taking the gangway steps two at a time, he opened Bright's hatch and looked down inside. Fearing to see blood or worse he only saw his wife slowly removing her helmet and placing it on the floor by her feet. A moment later she looked up at him and smiled for only a single instant before removing her straps and climbing out of the fighter and into his arms.

"They all left me, just suddenly it was me and a lot of very angry ships trying their best to kill me." She said slowly and softly. He said nothing but only held her as he felt her heartbeat beginning to come down slowly.

"She alright?" Maroy said as she walked up. Joamer nodded once, and began looking over the unorganized hangar bay. Signs of explosive decompression were everywhere, most of the fighter racks stood empty now. The few fighters that remained were in no shape to fly anytime soon, he doubted they could put together a full squadron anymore regardless. In the span of three hyperspace jumps they had lost or left behind a full squadron worth of pilots. To him it was beyond wasteful, and he knew things needed to change. He was just happy his wife had not been one of the ones left behind.

"You going to be alright?" He asked softly as he looked into her eyes for a long moment.

After a few seconds she nodded slightly and breathed deeply. Looking at him for a second she shook her head and said, "You are already planning to go back aren't you?" He did not answer her but only looked around the hangar again then back at her. "Count me in then." He went to object but saw her eyebrows raise in question so he shut his mouth. Arguing with a red head was one thing, arguing with a red head that was your wife was a good way to get hurt. "I'll be in our quarters, wake me when we are ready to go."

Watching her slide down the ladder he looked out over the hangar as everyone milled around, trying to understand what had happened and looking for friends that were no longer going to be there. He knew the feeling well, pretty soon most of them would find their way to the bar to begin drinking and celebrating they were alive. Maybe dead tomorrow, but alive... gloriously alive today. When the hang overs wore off they would begin mourning their friends, but for now they were too numb to do anything but stand around and wonder what was next.

Sliding down from the fighter he walked over to where the remains of Tuk'ata were standing or sitting on crates of supplies. Looking at Maroy he said, "What's the butcher bill this time?"

Looking up from her datapad she said, "One from Aurek, two from Besh, two from Cresh are here. Out of the others, either shot down, captured or dead. High price for next to no good intelligence."

"The cost is always too high, what about our sister squadron? How did they fare?"

"Four, out of twelve only four are here. No sensor data on whether any others went down to the moon, but I doubt it. Av'vast is, visibly shaken it was his first command." Maroy said as she clicked off her datapad and tucked it behind her belt. "What they did deserves the highest honor we can give. They were trapped in the hangar when the ship started making her run to clear the system, instead of sitting here safe they got out and went full bore into the attackers as we made our escape. They covered our escape with their lives, a squadron that hated us gave their lives so we could be here."

Looking at her he could see her nerves were frayed now, everything that had happened in the past hour had simply overwhelmed the young woman. He did not look at the squadron but instead he turned slightly so he could speak to Maroy and only she would hear him, "I know this is overwhelming, but your squadron needs you. You are acting squadron commander now, pull it together and show them strength so they don't fall apart."

"You are higher rank, you should assume the roll." She said softly as she looked at her scorched fighter for a moment.

"Not for long I won't be, what I plan will probably be my last act in the Navy." Joamer said as he turned around and faced the remains of the squadron. "Something the Army taught me a long time ago, we don't leave our people behind. At least two of our pilots made it to the surface, sensor scans confirm it. The moment we get back into Empire controlled space I plan to lead a rescue mission with anyone who wishes to join me. This will be a mission that goes against orders, and will most likely lead to court marshaling for most of us. If you want in, there is a club on Abrae. The 602 club is rundown nowadays, but it will be our starting point. Be there the day after we reach Abrae and you can join the operation."

Walking out he left the squadron in silence as he made his way to the briefing room that would be his beginning planning location. Plus, it would allow him time to think over what had just happened. He considered going to his wife, but she needed time to find her center again before she joined the mission fully.

Stepping inside one of the cargo rooms he went to the back to where his crates were stored. He knew the inventory by heart, but he needed to double check before picking up what he would need before he went to Abrae.

And hour later he found himself walking into the empty briefing room, he did not stop but stepped quietly to the center platform and sat down behind the desk to rest his head on his hands. These were always the worst moment about being on charge, this was the calm after the storm.  He had lead men and woman to their deaths many times, but this set of missions had to be one of the worst. Either it was horribly planned out, or they all had very bad luck. The squadron was now shattered, he doubted more than half of the surviving members would stay in the Navy long after this. They had simply lost too many people too quickly to keep any of the pilots in the cockpit.

"Is this what commanders do after a mission? Hide from their squadrons so the pilots don't see them weak?" Joamer looked up and found the young Bothan commander sitting in a seat in the front row. The younger man was sitting with his body slouched and his eyes starring straight ahead. Joamer recognized the look he had, it was one he had worn many times in the past. "Guess I picked the right spot to where you would be planning something crazy. How do you keep going on, after something like that?"

"You just do, when you have people counting on you you just find a way to keep going." Joamer said slowly as he leaned back in his chair. He felt the ship shudder for a moment, after only a few seconds it jumped back into hyperspace again. "My first mission as squad leader was during the Thyveck campaign. My squad was left behind for six months without supplies or help."

"You got them home though, right? That's what the invincible Reistlin does, he gets his people home." Av'vast said suddenly and with a strength that half surprised Joamer.

"Not all of them, sometimes you can't save all of them."

"Dire-cat will probably be closed after this, I can't speak for my other pilots but I want in. Sign me up for your crazy mission, I want my vengeance on those bastards that killed my friends."

"That's good to hear." Another voice said as footsteps were heard coming down the walkway. After a moment Trykon came out from the shadows of the dimly lit room and stood a few steps from the raised platform. Neither pilot stood and saluted him, something that amused the younger man.

"Sorry, bossman. Old army habit, last person I saluted had his head turned into a canoe by a sniper." Joamer said with a half smile.

"So, about this rescue op I keep hearing about. I bring good news to try to hold back the darkness. Kamlott has become a protectorate, and roughly half their Dominion delegation is now allied to our cause. You don't need to ask what happened to the other half." Trykon said as he walked up on stage and looked at both pilots in turn for a moment. "I have a plan, and I need pilots to carry it out.

Joamer leaned back in his chair and gave the man the floor. A few minutes into the explanation he found himself smiling and rubbing his hands together slowly. Oh yes, He thought to himself. Vengeance would be theirs very soon.

OOC:

WC-1494. What remains of Tuk'ata and Dire-cat are home safe, Trykon rejoined us and brought good news, and a new plan of action.

And thus ends the first story in the planned trilogy. Stay tuned for the second installment boys and girls. War is coming.

“Yes sir,” Wyl Trykon said into the holocam with a nod, “I tend to agree.  Given our successes so far, it’s reasonable to assume our estimates of the Dominion’s remaining strength were over-cautious.  When the Brilliant gets back, I’ll know more, but I think you’re right: we should press the advantage, and attack.”

The shimmering holograghic likeness of Vice Admiral Ph’rranix “Stormz” Krazanr, the Wookiee Commander in Chief of the Vast Empire’s Navy, stuttered momentarily as the long-distance link to Abrae wavered.  The furry being growled an enthusiastic interrogative.

“I think so,” Trykon replied, nodding again.  “They’re bound to be holding whatever naval assets they have left in reserve in a tight perimeter around their home worlds, and once I can compare the after action reports of the Brilliant and Zail’s task force… well, we’ll be able to guess at their strength and position, at that point.  But, sir, I think we have them.”

The wookiee chortled.  It might have been endearing, if not for his wicked, unsettling smile.  He barked another question, and eyed the human steadily.

Trykon hesitated, frowning in thought as he considered his answer.  “I… I would be honored to serve as CNW, Admiral,” he said at last.  “When Brilliant gets back, I’ll return to the Vectra System, and formally take over command of Second Fleet.”  He nodded, as if convincing himself.  “With your permission, I’ll transfer my flag to the Adjudicator, sir.  The Warrior needs further repairs, anyway, and this way she’ll be free when Drac gets back.”

Stormz seemed to darken at the mention of the former Chief of Naval Warfare, but he said nothing.  He growled one final time – a curt command that translated to, “Finish this fight, Commander” – and then signed off.

Trykon stood for a moment, staring at the shuttle’s bulkhead.  The events of the past weeks seemed impossible – Drac’s departure, having to take over Second Fleet, discovering Kamlott, negotiating for the world’s allegiance against the Dominion, and now, promotion to Commander and to Chief of Naval Warfare – but they had all happened.  “So, what comes next?” he whispered aloud.

A beeping at the cockpit console seemed to answer.  Wyl flipped a switch, and the familiar voice of his favorite Communications Officer, Master Chief Petty Officer Evir Norith, flooded into the confined space: “Lieutenant Trykon, please come in.”

“I’m here, Mr. Norith.  Go ahead.”

“Palpatine’s bones, it’s good to hear your voice, sir!  We weren’t sure... that is, we haven’t heard from you, and the Dominion jumped into the last system along the route, in force, and we had to withdraw, and––”

“Mr. Norith!” Trykon interrupted, forcefully but not unkindly.  “All is well.  Kamlott has agreed to become a protectorate of the Vast Empire, in exchange for some minor trade concessions… they will slow down whatever ships the Dominion has sent to pursue the Brilliant.  Meanwhile, the bulk of Second Fleet is already awaiting us at Abrae.  If you will kindly organize a sufficiently showy escort for me, for the benefit of our easily-impressed Kamlotti allies, I’ll be aboard in minutes, and we can jump back to meet the rest of the fleet.  And, Mr. Norith, spread the word: I’ve been appointed the new Chief of Naval Warfare, and I intend to prove worthy of the title.  Trykon, out.”

OOC:

550 words.

A little lackluster, but I wanted to move on.  It's a little two-dimensional, but it gets the point across.

After Action Report: Trick speaks to Stormz over long-range comms.  He has convinced Kamlott to become a protectorate of the VE (a story for another time), and agrees that the Dominion appears ripe for conquest.  Stormz promotes Trick to Commander, and appoints him CNW.  Trick accepts, and says he will command the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Adjudicator, leaving the Halcyon Warrior in the repair yard, awaiting Drac's return.  Brilliant returns, fleeing the Dominion fleet that intervened at Bloodmoon, and Trick tells them not to worry: it's all part of a larger plan that will end with VE victory, and ID defeat.