Bright stayed with the kid as he formed up on her wing. She couldn't be sure when she'd lost her own wingman, Dawn had just seemed to disappear, though she was sure that he was still alive. It was a miracle that Iron Six was even still alive. She gritted her teeth  and let out a slow semi calming breath.  While Bright loved to fly, Fighters were not her choice of craft to pilot. They were flying durasteel deathtraps and admittedly to herself, she had a very healthy, and perhaps irrational, fear of the things. Yet, she coninuously found herself getting in the sims, and even in the real deal for CAP missions. She wondered if by now she should be getting over this fear of hers. Looking to her right at Tavrus' fighter, she shook her head. No, she would not be getting over her fear anytime soon.

She looked at her monitor and grimaced. They were heading back into it.  Seeings how her own wingman had left her and found another to go and save, Bright was determined to keep at least on man alive, even if she didn't know him that well. "Six, stay on my wing." She said. She could hear the strain in her own voice and winced slightly. "We'll keep each other out of trouble."

"Yes, Ma'am." The leading crewman replied.

"I'm no ma'am." She replied automatically. She could practically hear Joamer laughing at her statement, but she couldn't find a reason to care at the moment. What she really wanted was to be either on solid ground or at the very least back in the open hangar of the Adjudicator.

It wasn't long though before her thoughts were once more focused on the task at hand. She and Iron Six had  come back to a hell of a mess and it was all she could do to keep herself from flying head long into that mess to save the ones that she could see needed her help. But flying in half-cocked wasn't going to save anyone, and it might even get her or Tavrus killed. She looked over at the man's interceptor to judge his readiness. Not that she could tell much, but he did look to be flying a bit stiff.

"Stay with me, can't promise you'll live, but you'll have a better chance with me than alone." Bright said as calmly as she could manage over her comm. She received an affirmative click in response.  Taking that for a ready, Bright  banked over so that Tavrus was on her left.  She sighed, this really was so much better when Joa was her wingman, he knew her penchant for shadow flying.

"Okay kid listen up. When I bank left you lead me, I know this is going to sound insane, especially since I just saved you back there, but this is how I fly. I need you to trust that I'm not going to let any Dominion asshole  blow you out of the sky." She took a breath. "I'll keep your tail clear, but I do better when they can't see me. Effectively I'll be your shadow, you draw their fire and keep them distracted and I'll make sure they go boom. If you feel like you have a clean shot then take it."

It was a long moment before Six answered with an affirmative. With that the two of them were off.  True to her word Bright stayed in the shadow of Tik's fighter taking out those that locked onto him and keeping his tail clear. He was stiff, but she could follow him with only minimal direction. 

"Red, where the hell are you." She heard one of the Nugget's say. She pursed her lips and promised herself that she would be setting up the next obsticle course, that would discourage anymore nuggets calling her 'Red'.

"Eight, if you survive I will personally be handling your training, now get your ass back in formation and worry about your wingmate, not about where I am."  Bright kept her voice calm but allowed a note of irritation to seep through. She recieved no reply.

Without warning a Dominion fighter streaked across her view port landing a glancing blow across her shields.  Tavrus' interceptor lost momentary control and spun out, revealing her position. "Six, watch yourself we've been found out." Bright dialed up her inertial dampner to ninety percent banked hard right looping around in a barrel roll that brought her around to target the first fighter that had straffed her. She tightened her jaw and fired, not taking time to watch the following explosion.

She heard Tik mutter something unintelligable before he peformed a hasty  spin dive. Though it would not have been her first choice of actions, it id bring his pursuer into her sights.

Waisting no time she made a quick aim adjustment and watched
as another explosion bloomed before her eyes. She didn't have long to celebrate before another had locked onto her.

"Frak!" She hissed yanking on her yoked hard enough to take her into a steep climb.

"Bright, you're going to stall, break off." That voice she knew well enough. Edge had seen her plight, but she ignored him. She knew how far she could push this fighter, and she was tired of being shot at. 

Without warning she cut her thrusters and powered her aft shields to maximum. She could feel her interceptor hang in the atmosphere for a minute second before gravity locked in and started to drag her fighter back toward the ground. After another moment her pursuer shot past her. The moment she saw the enemy fighter in her periphrial, she kicked her thrusters and locked on with her weapons. The lancing green lasers hit their mark squarely igniting another blooming explosion.  With thrusters back online she righted her fighter and returned her shields to normal  bringing herself back around to continue the fight.

"Damn, Joamer, I thought you were the only one insane enough to pull crazy stunts like that." Edge muttered.

"You thought I was actually sane, Edge?" Bright asked her annoyance, still fading, put a sharper tone to her voice than what she had intended.  Looking around she attempted to find her wayward wingmate once more.

OOC:

Word Count: No fraking clue

EDIT: 1,045 words. 

AAR: Bright works with Rikky to take out a few Dominion fighters before her their postition is discovered and acted upon. In the resulting chase, Bright and Tavrus are separated and Bright proves that she is just as insane as her husband, possibly even more so.

The battle raged across the space surrounding the Bloodmoon, dozens of colossal warships pummelling each other mercilessly.  A poet or philosopher could wax eloquent about the dances of light and explosions, about the noble and tragic sacrifice of those involved.  Some might even note that, as brutal and destructive this battle was, it was but one of many being played out across the galaxy.  For it went on, and on, across the stars, the rise and fall of empires and republics, living and dying in flames.

Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail cared nothing of that.  He was purely focused on the here and now, determined to resolve his own part of the battle.  Close by, the Nebulon-B Frigate Howling Hydra withered under the combined fire of Zail’s Brilliant and its escort, the Strike-Class Cruiser Vengeful.  Not that the Imperial Dominion warship was going down without a fight.  It fought back with every weapon at its disposal, reinforced by the firepower of the Victory II Star Destroyer Ravisher.

Serpent was not concerned about a mere Frigate, it was the VSD Ravisher that he wanted, but he had to go through the Howling Hydra to do it.  Zail could see the dagger-shaped Star Destroyer hanging in space nearby, and vowed to destroy it.  Its demise would be a blow to the enemy fleet, and Serpent fully intended to be the one to deliver it.  He was the Executive Officer of the Second Fleet now, captain of a mighty warship.  It was about time he showed his fellow commanders just how effective in battle he could be.

“Port shields down to fifty six percent!” Came a call from a bridge officer, interrupting Zail’s thoughts.

“Redistribute shields,” Ordered Serpent smoothly, “Draw power from the engines if need be,” He added, knowing that they were pretty much stationary in this slugging match.

“Yes, sir!” Replied the shield operator and made it happen.

“It’s the Ravisher,” Said Vagen Eosel, the XO at the Captain’s side.  “That VSD is determined to stop us.”

Zail allowed himself a tight smile.  “Let them try,” He said, seeing how the battle was going.  The Brilliant and the Vengeful had the position and initiative, and would not let the Ravisher distract them from the Howling Hydra.

Suddenly his eyes lit up, as through the wide viewport of the Brilliant’s bridge he saw a mighty explosion.  The shields of the Howling Hydra were pieced by a turbolaser blast from the Brilliant, striking the main superstructure with a brilliant plume of igniting gases.  Seeing the sight only widened Serpent’s wolfish grin.

“She’s going down!” Enthused Eosel at his side, the Kel Dor once again proving his reputation for stating the obvious.

“Redouble our efforts, fire everything!” Barked Zail, sensing weakness.  “Take that Nebulon-B down quickly!”  Once it fell, they could focus on that irksome VSD Ravisher.

Renewed fire lanced out at the dying Howling Hydra, and the frigate began to turn as its shields failed and more shots punctured the hull.

“They are running,” Said Vagen Eosel, watching the Imperial Dominion warship power its engines.

Serpent followed the movement of the vessel and frowned.  “No, they are turning towards us!” He realised suddenly!

The Howling Hydra angled itself at the Brilliant, throwing all its remaining power into its thrusters and forward shields.  It defences reinforced, it was now holding against the constant barrage of fire directed against it, and the frigate accelerated towards Zail’s warship while escape pods spewed from its sides.

“Turn!”  Thundered Serpent, trying to get his ship out of the way of the suicidal ramming manoeuvre.  “TURN!”

“Reverse thrusters engaged,” Said the Helmsman, Ysanne Samasl, “Turning as fast as we can!”

“Faster please!” Urged Zail, watching the Howling Hydra draw closer.  He had spent a good portion of his Vast Empire Navy career on the bridge of the Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Halcyon Warrior, and knew well the manoeuvrability of that ship.  The Warrior would never have made it clear in time, but while smaller, the Brilliant was still massive, and he knew not if it could get clear in time.

“Send in Awe Squadron,” Said Serpent, suddenly remembering the Brilliant’s TIE bomber group.  Bypassing his own XO, he rushed to Dev Mishima, the Com Officer, to relay the order all the quicker.  “Have them hit the Howling Hydra at the rear while they focus all their shields on the front.”

Mishima nodded and hailed Awe’s Squadron Leader, speaking quickly and clearly.  Zail’s gaze darted to the nearby tactical hologram, and he saw the fighters swinging into position.  TIE Bombers were hardly fast, but they were already harrying the frigate and did not have far to manoeuvre to get into the ordered striking position.

Meanwhile the Brilliant was pulling back, ever so slowly, and pulling to the side as it did so.  Serpent’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the Howling Hydra loomed ever closer, only now it had shifted to the left in his vision as his Star Destroyer turned away.  The Nebulon-B was close now, so painfully close that he doubted that even the intervention of the Bombers would save them.

“Are we going to get clear?” He asked of the Helsman.

Ysanne Samasl shook her head slightly, her face a grimace.  “Sorry, sir!” She said, and the pain in her voice was nothing to do with their impending demise and everything to do with letting her Captain down.  “Time to impact twenty seconds!”

Zail took the news stoically, and a last farewell to his crew was just coming to his lips when Vagen Eosel spoke up.  “There!” He exclaimed suddenly, pointing.

Serpent followed the indicated gesture, and saw a series of explosions along the rear section of the Howling Hydra.  The Awe Bombers struck hard, blowing the exposed engines while they were unshielded.  That whole part of the ship blew instantly and brilliantly, the sudden flash in the dark of space forcing Zail to close his eyes.

When he opened them, blinking away the red splotches in his vision, he saw that the Frigate was now off-course.  The momentum of its ram was undiminished thanks to the frictionless nature of space, but the explosions had knocked it off its heading.

It passed the Brilliant by harmlessly, if only by a few dozen meters, and plunged dying clear of the battle.

Serpent felt a wave of relief wash over him, and put on a brave face for his bridge crew.  “Never had a doubt,” Pherik said, giving them a smile.

It was meant to be confident, but instead it was nervously cheeky, and the rest of his people picked up on it.  They laughed lightly, and Zail was happy that he had dispelled the tension and fear.

Turning back to the viewport, Serpent focused his vision on the nearby VSD Ravisher.

You’re next, he thought.

OOC:

1134 words.  A little scare to disrupt Serpent’s plans, but now he can move on to the VSD Ravisher.

After Action Report:  Serpent continues his battle with the Ravisher and the Howling Hydra, and the smaller of those two, the Frigate Howling Hydra, is going down.  As a last act of defiance, the captain of the ID Frigate sets a course to ram Zail’s Brilliant, but is turned aside at the last moment.  Now Serpent turns to the Ravisher.

He had not been in a true dog fight in decades, small skirmishes between himself and a fighter or two sure. Something on this scale though, not for a very long time. His training had kicked in, so he knew during the first few minutes nothing could be done till the pulse of the battle showed itself for him. He was the conductor, but he needed his orchestra warmed up and ready. For now chaos reigned supreme, people died, fighters exploded. The Galaxy turned on without notice or care.

Looking over at one of his monitors he adjusted the inertial dampeners down another three percent. He shut off the warning klazon as it moved below eighty percent, he knew the risks but he had to feel this. He had to know the battle to conduct his symphony. If he pulled any true insane maneuvers he could red out at this level. It was a risk he had to take though, his squadron was counting on his leadership. Sometimes that meant doing something truly insane to see them safe, what he was doing was a measured risk though.

Following one of the enemy Interceptors through a shallow dive he got a lead on him then fired, but he was a second too slow in making the kill. Swearing softly to himself he continued to follow the TIE through a series of sharp S-turns, he did not know if Iron 2 was still with him but somehow he doubted it. He felt lonely now, no one to watch his back as he cut his throttle and dove after the Dominion fighter ace. Judging by the twin silver lines running the length of the Interceptor's solar panels he guessed this would be their commander, if it was not then he was falling into a very nice trap.

Punching the throttle again he grunted as the g-forces pushed him back into his seat as he pulled hard on the yoke. He managed to follow the man through the tight loop but he was still too slow in making the kill. The pulse of the battle was still eluding him, it was causing him to be a step too slow, a moment too late in finishing the man off.

When he was on the ground it was easy to get a feel for the situation, even in small squad on squad battles the pulse was there. Here though, locked into this coffin with wings he did not feel it. He felt nothing but the armor surrounded him, not even the sound of the thin atmosphere whipping by his cockpit. I've lost the edge, I'm not a fighter pilot. Not one skilled enough to lead a squadron like this. I was crazy to think I could do this again, it's been too long. He thought to himself. He knew it was true even as another voice tried to tell him he was wrong. That they would of never put him in command if they did not know he could do it. His army record was impressive, but full of black marks. He got the job done, but those higher in the food chain disliked how he did it.

Making sure the commlink was off he said, "I know why they made me the commander, I was simply the best pilot they currently had. This squadron was meant to fail, they used us as a means to get rid of the bad seeds in the Navy." For some reason it did not bother him once this revelation happened. Maybe it was because deep down he simply did not care for the Empire anymore, he was only here due to the friends he had made. The Empires ideals were not his, their methods were not his, their voice was not his. Being in command of something let him have his own ideas, his own methods, and his own voice. He might die doing this, but it would not be for them.

The only way to thumb his nose at them was to have this squadron survive and shine bright. If you want it, find the pulse. Become the leader again, you found it for the first time during Thyveck because you were forced to be something new. This fighter is not the problem, you don't believe anymore. The voice said quietly.

He followed the Interceptor again through a series of tight dives and s-turns, the man was goading him trying to shake him loose. Joamer was having none of it though, even without the pulse of the battle he still followed the man. He knew his squadron needed him, the chaos was winding down and the symphony was about to begin.

"Find it, burn you." He swore to himself. "Blood and bloody ashes, she will die!" Blinking suddenly he felt it, he felt the first note of the symphony begin playing. The pulse of the battle like a twin to his heartbeat beat inside him.

Chopping his throttle he put a good lead on the Interceptor as the other commander began a turn. At the last instant he reversed direction, directly into Joamer's lasers. Breathing slowly out, he banked his Interceptor as he got a good look at the maelstrom playing out around him. He could feel the ebb and flow of the battle now.

Dovie'andi se tovya sagain. The voice in his head said, it was something he had not voiced in a long time. It was true though, the simple saying his father had said over and over again during his childhood.

"Iron two, eleven, and twelve. Form up on my wing. Time for our first act to begin." Joamer said over the squadron's commlink. Turning off the commlink he said, "Dovie'andi se tovya sagain. It's time to toss the dice."

Pulling hard on the yoke he punched the throttle and shot back into the spinning maelstrom where his squadron fought for their lives. They were out numbered, but they would put up a fight that the ages might just remember.

OOC:

WC-1011 Joamer deals with things, and finds his center again. 

Hades had never survived by simply wagering that someone else would pull him through. If he was anything, he was a survivor, and through the drowsiness and the pain, his animal instincts were working overtime. What he knew was that he was on a Tartan Patrol cruiser, probably modified for intelligence purposes. But how would he get out? There was no back up to help him that he knew of, no second chance. It was all on him. The key to focus was somewhere between serenity and anger, and Hades had to master it quickly in this small space. What else did he know? Other than that brute in the corridor outside.. Of course.. Hades almost laughed when it came to him. Now all he had to do was execute it.

The young SCO paced across to the heavy door and banged on it three times, before  looking directly ahead and waiting. There was a grumble from outside and the door slid open - rookie mistake - and Hades was out. He slammed into the big man, tackling him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and somehow managed to remain on top as he showered the big bully with blows to his head and ribs. A fist came rushing up but Hades leant back and caught ti at an uncomfortable angle, twisting it with a ghastly crack and a horrid cry from the man below him. Another sharp blow to the nose saw the man cease his struggling. Hades stood slowly, shaking out his fists. It'd had been a while since he'd killed someone that brutally.. The young SCO almost shuddered. Something on his captor's belt caught his eyes - a blaster pistol, comlink and code cylinders. Not usual on grunts like this fellow, but Hades supposed if there were enough locked doors he needed to access, it was not unheard of. He leant down and pocketed the comlink and code cylinders, but kept the blaster in his hand after he'd checked the power cells.

The guard would change soon - without a doubt, although at battle stations guards might have alternate duties. The corridor he was in was bleak; sterile white with few seams and only two exits, minus the cell he'd been in. But it wasn't as bad as  it seemed, Hades knew. His eyes trailed upward to where he could see one of the few square shaped outlines on the ceiling - a ventilation shaft of some kind, not too high either. Hades used the barrel of the blaster to push it up and inwards, before tucking the blaster into his belt and jumping up to pull his body into the vent, before sliding the hatch into place.

The shaft was cramped, so Hades couldn't even crouch. Nonetheless, the young piliot set off in an army crawl down the shaft. Before long he had covered quite a distance, and the shaft led downward from here. If he lowered himself down, he'd probably manage to get down safely. He did exactly that, letting himself drop the last few inches with a soft clang. He found himself in an enviornment that smelt almost like.. the engine room! The loud hum was obvious here, it had to be the engine room. Engine rooms meant engineers, though. Engineers meant enemies. Taking a good look around him, Hades decided on going deeper into the room. Soon enough he heard voices muttering about the ill temper of their superior officer. Peeking around the corner, Hades saw two engineers at their consoles..both had blasters strapped to their hip. Extra precautions, perhaps? Regardless, they were in his way.

He had to risk a shot - he had no idea if he'd manage to overpower both before they set off the alarm, so he had little to lose. Two shots later, the engineers slumped forward over their consoles. Hades shoved one body aside roughly, letting it tumble onto the  hard floor as he pressed a few keys on the console - it wasn't locked, as the man had just been using it. Hades tapped a few keys, firstly turning off the temperature control and secondly maxing the power to the engines - a recipe for disaster if he'd ever concocted one before.  As beeping began to howl at him, Hades frowned. He raised the blaster and fired two crimson bolts into the thing, at which point it stopped beeping, but Hades felt a significant rise in temperature. "Time to get off this thing.." He muttered to himself as he pocketed the first Engineer's blaster. It was then his comlink squawked.

"We have an escaped prisoner aboard; find him! Alive!" It was Vrail. Hades smirked. He really knew how to piss the guy off.. But this presented another difficulty. Kill Vrail and risk his escape, or escape and risk losing this opportunity? It was a hard one, as his desire for vengeance was matched only by his survival instinct. With that in mind, Hades set off at a run, thanking himself for the hours spent training his form for just this type of situation.. Before long, he'd reached a stair well - sometimes elevators were not used on such small ships, to keep costs down. Taking the stairs two at a time, Hades was forced to dive and roll, coming up firing, as there were three men jogging toward him. The first two dropped in three shots, while Hades' fourth shot only got the third man in the arm, who promptly fell back into a door way and fired blindly at Hades. The shot went wide, but Hades himself ducked back into an alcove. The laboured breathing of the man was obvious; he evidently wasn't used to combat wounds as he fired erraticly again. Hades now made a move.

Sprinting forward and taking a dive, Hades slid past the doorway with his blaster pointed backwards and up, with his stomach upward. Two shots in quick succession got the man in the ribs and stomach respectively. There was not time to celebrate, though, as alamrs of all sorts were blaring. "--Engine levels critical--"  Hades heard vaguely over the loudspeaker. He had to move, and he had to move fast. This ship was not going to last. Hades nearly toppled over as an explosion shuddered the decks. "--Engine failure in sections three and four! We are venting atmosphere, flames threatening main reactor!--" Hades smirked. His work was done... He'd taken the time out to study Tartan Patrol Cruisers after Tuk'atas failure to apprehend or destroy Vrail, so he knew his way around one conveniently. Ahead, around 10 meters, should be the door to the escape pods. His green eyes easily found it and, with the help of the stolen code cylinders, he entered the bay from one of two entrances.. He thanked his lucky stars as he saw who'd just entered from the other end.

Lieutenant Okyr Vrail. Neither man panicked, but Hades had his blasters up quicker, firing off four shots to Okyr's one. Hades' first three went wide before the fourth singed Okyr's arm, but the single shot gave Hades a similar injury. He gasped in pain, but managed to strafe until he was in the cover of an airlock. Okyr slammed the  panel that opened the door behind him, and several of the crew came through with guns up. Hadesgrowled - it was now or never. He raised, breathed, fired. The shot struck home, piercing Okyr's abdomen and sending him tumbling to the floor. A few shots came in return, and Hades dived into the escape pod, hitting the big red button. An unsettling feeling came through his stomach as the pod detached from the main source of gravity and its own small generators kicked in. IN an instant, Hades was at the controls, ignoring the pain in his arm to direct himself toward..the space battle. That was when he saw it.

It was beautiful, you might say. Lattices of crimson and emerald beams criss-crossed space in a continuous exchange of highly modernised warfare, something more akin to a Mon-Calamari Opera than the deaths of thousands.. Carcasses of fighters were everywhere, like discarded toys left broken and unwanted, while dead ships of a larger size weren't much different. Hades could see men floating through space, complexion blue from their death by suffocation. A horrible way to go.. This was warfare at its finest,and it appeared the VE was winning. That was generally a good sign. Hades checked the pod - it had a comm. "This is Senior Chief Petty Officer Aita of Tuk'ata requesting immediate pickup! Coordinates are transmitting now - sector 1-1-3-8-T. Does anybody read me, over."

Now he had to wait and hope, hope that the fleet didn't vaporise him by mistake or indeed by intent.. Now there was a disturbing thought. He thought he could see VE-marked interceptors hovering around the ghastly bloodmoon, and wondered if some of them were the remnants of Tuk'ata.. The dysfunctional yet inspirational squadron he had been asked to command. He wondered how many of them were dead, now, thanks to him. "Come on, come on!" He growled impatiently. Someone out there had to be listening. "This is Senior Chief Petty Officer Aita of Tuk'ata, requesting immediate pickup! Coordinates are transmitting now - sector 1-1-3-8-T. Does anybody read me, over!" Hades repeated the simple line, in hopes they'd hear - and, further to that, that they'd care.

Somebody had to be out there looking for him. They had to... Or did they?

---

Ziel growled impatiently to himself. It was hard to keep a levvel head when you're surrounded by fools and half-wits. "Re-route the systems, damn it! Do I have to do your job?!" The Lieutenant snapped at the computer expert. "And 'I'm trying' isn't good enough! I want my cameras and I want them yesterday you incompetent jawas! Until then resort to comms, find out which teams are down and use the other teams as our cameras as they proceed to shut down each floor."

As he spoke, Ziel got calmer. When he'd laid out his plans was always when he managed to calm down. A few mutters of 'aye sir' reverberated around the otherwise-silent room, and Ziel fixed his steely gaze on the static-y screen. "Teams 7 through 9 have been eliminated." Varys' silky smoothe voice almost made Ziel jump. "Team 11 reports gunfire at the backup computer core, and are locked out. They're about to breach the door."

"By frak man are you mad? You want to blow up our own facility? Their breaching charges would damage the computers irreversibly.. Tell them to wait for Team 12. Send Team 13 to my quarters." Ziel was in control now, as he paced away from the command center.

:"What are you planning, sir?" Varys asked, as inconspicuous as he ever was.

"If you want something done right.. Stay here, Varys. Tell me when the computers are back up." Varys eyed his CO doubtfully, but nodded his understanding as Ziel stormed off toward his quarters. Turning back to the screens, Varys licked his lips.

"Get me-" A static-y yet audible transmission burst onto their speakers.

"This is Senior Chief Petty Officer Aita of.." Varys snarled - it was interference from the battle above.

"Get this channel cleared up!" He snapped at the nearest subordinate, his usual docile manner overridden by his frustration. This was his opportunity to shine, both to his superiors in intelligence and others.. He'd not have it ruined by some interference and an enemy intelligence team. No, he was far too smart for that. Or so he assumed.

Sometimes Varys understood why Ziel didn't gamble.

---

Ziel was a powerfully built man and, even as an officer he'd kept up his fitness. Thanks to that, he still fit in his amour - with which he'd taken the liberty to add a red stripe down the side. It was only fitting he was distinguished. A sharp rap on the door announced team 13's arrival, and, grabbing his helmet as he went, Ziel exited into the corridor. Team 13 was one of his favourites - all with a similar background to him, and all business. Just like him, then. "Alright," Ziel began as he sealed his helmet, tones becoming muffled by the inbuilt breath mast. "We're going to coordinate with teams 12 and 11 to eliminate these frakkers. We don't want to damage the facility and we want at least one of them alive. It's your asses on the line if you fail to follow these orders."

No reply. A simple nod satisfied the Lieutenant. "Move out!" He barked as they set off at a quick jog towards the lower levels of the facility. "Teams 14 through 18, standby for assist." Ry spoke into his comlink as they jogged. At the top of the stairs, Ry raised his hand to signal a halt, and the others did the same as he raised his blaster rifle. The Lieutenant motioned the team forward, and they moved with the speed and grace of a predatory bird. He could not help but smirk as he followed them, blaster up, descending to the floor the VENI team was last seen.. Caution was never imprudent as a stormtrooper, Ziel had found. He was almost certain that the VENI team had set a few surprises for him along the way..

But that was why he didn't gamble on anything. Coming around the corner, Ry and 13th team found 11th and 12th stacked up against a wall, positioned so they'd have great arcs of fire when the VENI team emerged. 13th took position, too, and waited. Now it was a game of chance. Which little Kushiban would pop their head out first?

---

"Objective complete!" The sharp voice reminded Grey that the other memmbers of the team had done their part.

"Alright, map shows that the bio labs are three levels below us and only accessible through a central secure turbolift. We can't afford to waste anymore time - Hayek, get the door!" Grey let the situation run through her mind as the door hissed open. Hayek emerged, confident and-

-all of a sudden, the world turned to hell. Blaster fire erupted in a cacophony of malicious energy. Hayek collapsed back into the door, and at first Grey thought she'd just stumbled, but upon closer inspection found she'd  been his in the stomach. She was alive, but in pain. "Elsek, seal the door!" Grey snapped, angry more at herself for not being more cautious than at anyone else. "First aid if you please, Elsek, find us another route or you're walking home!"

The team snapped back into action. Things were going sour - fast.

OOC:

Wordcount: 2,458. A mix!

AAR: Hades has escaped after sabotaging the Scythe and shooting Vrail. He's now stranded in space, in a pod with a few minor maneuvring jets... Not enough to power him to the VEN fleet.

VENI: Ziel has successfully shut down the VENI team, and is guarding the door to the computer core as Cerberus to the gates of Hades! Hayek's been injured in a momentary lapse of caution, which Grey is kicking herself for, and Elsek's looking for another way out!

OOC:

VENI NPC Post

"Frayne and Pael, check the files and see what is important. Take however much your pads and data crystals can carry", Ensign Grey asked and the Human scientist spent not a moment to hesitate, question or further consider exactly what the team leader was asking them to do.

Irya Pael on the other hand was hardly as prompt to respond to that request. It wasn't that she did not understand that which was asked of her - she had surmised as much from that very first briefing made by the Ensign... It was just that she did not really feel that the data itself was as valuable as a few actual samples of the virus, or any other project being undertaken in the no longer secret facility.

Still, checking out that which other scientists did their best to work on in secrecy mildly intrigued her as an individual working in fairly similar conditions... if not necessarily for the same similar reasons however. The Arkanian specimen slowly made her way to a terminal found a little further in the back - an action that most team members did not really think much about... except for the Ensign, who could not help but feel uneasy thinking that Irya may try something whilst unsupervised.

A valid concern indeed, for the first thing the alien female did once she had access to the facility's databanks was to search for an memorize any maps she could find - both of the facility itself, but also regarding their position in space, nearby trade lanes, shipping schedules, trading manifests and also locations and name of suppliers from which their gear was being sent from.

Once the woman finished with that, she next tried getting into the facility's control systems, thinking of playing with the lights, the alarms and even the ventilation systems - only not necessarily as a means to fend off the ID defenders. Not them alone at any rate...

The woman tried this for roughly a couple of minutes before dejectedly being forced to give up by a combination of the system's high encryption, many layers of firewalls as well as their own virus which made interaction with the other systems all the more erratic and illogical.

"I think I found it..." the Human doctor stammered from the other side of the room. The military types didn't seem all that impressed but Ensign Grey immediately made her way there to check things out. Even the perky pilot followed - though Irya questioned the latter two's ability to actually comprehend the delicate intricacies involved in pretty much any form of genetic research and virology.

Rather than seeking the same projects that Frayne no doubt already went over and likely also backed up on his rising stack of datapads found near him, Irya Pael once more decided to instead seek out something else. This time around she decided to hack the private messages that the science team sent to and from one another.

From experience she knew that brilliant men and women still managed to find ways to communicate various things - work related or not - even if already knowing or at least suspecting that their correspondence was in fact being scanned and possibly intercepted by third parties, such as the military component of the installation.

It wasn't like Irya expected to find any buried secrets that the science team may have wished to keep off the official reports - though that certainly would've been nice. No, the Arkanian scientist merely wanted to see what sort of people were involved in the creation of this virus and whatever else this facility was producing on the side. What better way to find the answer to that question than to rummage through their convos? Especially given the fact that she couldn't very well just get an ID scientist to ask in person... preferably whilst the unfortunate sod was securely strapped to a cold metal table and shaking in terror, no doubt half expecting another round of torture. Oh, how she missed the VENI tower at times such as these...

"Objective complete!" Frayne once more announced, a hint of pride sensible in his tone of voice. Grey gave him a quick look over, followed by a simple nod, and next ordered the pilot to open the door so that the team may make their way over to the next objective. Drazin and Elsek both covered the sides of the door, with Grey and Trathras standing a bit closer to the middle and in the back. Frayne was also somewhere behind the lot... only Pael still stood alone in the back of the room, making it seem as if she was just waiting for the others to lead the way out.

"Hayek, get the door!" Ensign Grey finally ordered and the pilot moved to do just that. The youngest member of the team keyed in the previously hacked access code and the metallic doors slid wide open as a result. Reeza Hayek took a single step out of the room and into the well lit corridor before movement in both sides of her peripheral vision made her step back a single instant later. An instant though was all the time it took to catch a green bolt of heated Tibanna gas right in the gut, further sending her inside the room.

More shots were fired afterward, both by the Dominion forces outside the room as well as by Drazin and Elsek from inside the room. The few stray shots that made their way inside ended up hitting either the walls or in a couple of cases some unused computer terminals.

"Elsek, seal the door!" Grey ordered, her voice still clear enough even despite all the chaos surrounding them. The Corporal though was way ahead of the VENI agent. She gave a quizzical look over to her comrade, who merely answered it with an equally non-verbal nod of approval. Elsek quickly lowered her gun and instead began keying in buttons over the door access panel. In her place Trathras quickly appeared and began firing back at the few troopers he had a barely visible line of sight.

As the doors began to slide back closed, Sergeant Drazin pulled out a thermal detonator which he swiftly threw through the ever closing doors and out into the trapped corridor beyond. The sound of an explosion was heard a couple of seconds later followed by screams, cursing and even more fire blasts impacting the door frame.

"First aid if you please~" Ensign Grey began an order but stopped herself after looking around and seeing Frayne already on that task. When the firefight - brief as it may have been - first began and Hayek fell back inside the room, the Human doctor wasted no time in dragging her limp form back inside the room and laying her against one of the larger computer data servers. He shuffled through his backpack for a bacta pack, which he soon enough found and readily applied to the pilot who was thankfully (?) still lucid.

"See, I just knew this would happen if I were to come with you... Shouldda' stayed with the shuttle no matter what... Hey what's that? Is that my gut spilling over like that?" she asked wide eyed as she reached over with her shaky hand to touch the strange textured thing that she was staring at. "Nope, just padded leather turned bloody, icky and eugh... gross!" she found her own answer.

As she tried wiping her bloody hand using doctor Frayne's clean jacket, the pilot's tone changed. "Ooh, I think I see little stars around. Aah, they're dancing and jumping and twirling around. Hey! Hey, doc, did'ya see that one? Think she just did a barrel roll to escape from the other two pursuing her. I'm telling you doc, that star's got potential..."

The pilot continued to mumble about all sort of other things that Frayne merely assumed was some side effect of the bacta and administered pain killers. Noticing Ensign Grey's look, the Human male just shrugged and replied relieved "She'll be okay." The man gave the pilot another look before he quickly added "...Eventually."

The VENI team leader just nodded her understanding before ordering Corporal Elsek to find them another route out. As Drazin and Trathras kept watch over the door, doctor Frayne looked over the mumbling pilot and Elsek busy playing around with her datapad a question suddenly popped in the Ensign's mind - just where exactly was the Arkanian anyway?

The woman turned around and looked around the room but noticed no visible clue as to the mad scientist's whereabouts. Her eyes suddenly widened as she raised her heavy pistol higher before slowly making her way to the back of the room. She used the computer servers as cover, making her way around them and checking everywhere a humanoid could hide.

When she finally reached the very end of the room... that's when she noticed it! A maintenance panel removed from its socket and carefully placed a few feet away from the hole now produced in the wall. The Ensign immediately squatted and stared in the dark tunnel, all the while also trying to pick up any sounds coming from that darkness. There was nothing however - neither movement nor sounds.

The experienced agent cursed herself inwardly for allowing this to happen. She knew that the Arkanian could not be trusted. She knew the alien likely had ulterior motives to come here. She knew that the woman was a potential risk from the very first time she entered her lab and briefed her on this mission. She knew all these things yet still she allowed herself to make such a blunder...

But this was not the time to deal with such things. It was not the time to feel sorry for herself, but rather to try and fix yet one more problem on a list that wasn't all that short on such things from the start actually.

Returning to the other members of the team, Ensign Grey quickly informed them that the Arkanian had left them and that her actions henceforth could no longer be considered those of an ally. She gave orders to the remaining military members of the team to try and apprehend her if possible, but otherwise neutralize her should she resist or attempt to use force against them.

The Ensign also informed everyone of the maintenance tunnel in the back of the room. She paused though as she looked Drazin and Trathras over. "You two may not fit through it however..." she added as she pondered on a new plan of action.

"Hey doc... I think the fat star over there is going to go nova!" Reeza Hayek broke the silence only to add an unhelpful piece of incoherent information. The Ensign sighed as she returned to her thoughts once more...

OOC:

WC: 1816
AAR: Frayne finds intel regarding the virus files whilst Pael is apparently preoccupied by different things. The pilot's shot in the gut, but Frayne sees to her treatment by applying both a bacta pack as well as some pain killers that apparently are making the injured team member a tad more... loony? Before the doors are closed by Elsek, Drazin manages to throw a grenade in the corridor - which likely deals a few more enemy casualties.

Upon checking their situation in the aftermath, EG realizes that the Arkanian scientist is nowhere to be found. She looks around the room more carefully only to find a maintenance tunnel showing signs of recent entry. The VENI agent informs the rest of the team of this new development as well as tries thinking of a solution given the fact that at least some members of the team may be able to fit through the same tunnel. Less so of a chance in Drazin and Trathras' cases though...

All in all this post adds more problems and intrigue to the mix.

"Sir, they're coming around for another run - not sure our shields will hold!" the Anvil's XO hurried to deliver the not at all enticing news. "What's the status on our fighters?" inquired the CR90's captain in a voice that despite sounding calm and collected, one could still pick up the half hidden traces of uncertainty and anxiety.

"They're putting on a good fight sir but they've also begun incurring casualties", was the second in command's response. A response that the trained officer prepared in advance as he instinctively knew such a question was bound to be asked. "Open a fleet channel and request more fighters in this sector. Next open a channel and get the Chief Engineer on the line. We need more power to the shields..."

"Yes sir", was the first officer's prompt reply as he made his way over to the comm station.

Let's hope they make it in time... the ship's captain prayed as he stared at the fierce battle raging outside.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Acknowledged Control", the experienced Hard Nails SCO replied before switching channels and addressing the rest of his squadron "Nails, we're needed elsewhere. Deal with any loose ends and promptly make your way to the coordinates sent along with this message. We're going to strengthen our fighter screen in that sector..."

A bunch of clicks, as well as a few verbal confirmations, came in response and the SCO smiled in satisfaction. He had been with this squadron for the last year or so and together they had flown through hell and back half a dozen times over. They would merely have to do it once more today...

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir, shields are down to 39 percent. Suggest we pull back and recuperate more", the Anvil's XO suggested matter of factly. The man was merely doing that which he was trained to do - provide status updates as well as propose different courses of action, in case the captain had not previously considered them himself.

"Negative. If we pull back now, our larger support ships in this sector will become vulnerable to these very same bombers that so harass us now. As Vast Imperial officers, it is our duty to at all times try and minimize losses... even at our own expense", the captain spoke softly yet the words uttered were firm and filled with devotion. It was obvious the man fully believed in the Vast Empire, its ideals and its goals.

"Understood sir", was the only thing the XO could reply after straightening up and resuming his regular duties.

~~~~~~~~~~

"There! Bomber flights at two o'clock. They're readying for renewed attacks against our ships. Move to intercept!" the Hard Nails commander ordered his squadron as he took the lead and planned an intercept course using every ounce of power that his Interceptor's engines were able to produce. He knew without having to check his scanners that the rest of his squadron would follow close behind. The man trusted them with his life and they in turned had the same trust of him. It was as things should be in a fighter squadron...

"Target the ones leading the strike - launch missiles as soon as we're in range. Take the opportunity to pick them off individually once they scramble for cover!"

Once more clicks of acknowledgement could be heard through the comm channel. It was now only a matter of time before the pesky bombers would be returned to a baser state of existence - one mostly consisting of atoms, molecules and really large chunks of durasteel and charred electronics.

"Fire! Fire now!!!" the SCO ordered and a mere couple of seconds later the man was able to watch a dozen or more concussive missiles streaking through the dark, empty space and straight towards the enemy bombers.

The wait only lasted a few more seconds as the first projectiles struck true and deadly, eliciting bright explosions as a result. The squadron commander smiled. He was still smiling when he was able to get a visual confirmation of something bright and shiny moving at high speeds from the previous blasts. A lot of shiny somethings...

"Frak! Some of them managed to shoot before getting hit by us", the SCO bit his lower lip in frustration as he watched the enemy projectiles likewise moving fast and deadly towards one of their own ships - a small CR90 corvette.

Mere seconds later the Anvil was surrounded by bright flashes of red and yellow. One, two, three, five, seven... But then after the larger ones subsided, even more began to appear on the ship's hulls. We were too late, the experienced squadron commander sighed dejectedly as he continued watching - knowing full well that the corvette was now living its final moments. There was nothing else he could do for the men and women stationed aboard it other than pray for their deaths to be as quick and painless as possible.

Once a larger and stronger explosion finally ripped the small capital apart apart, the SCO opened a channel to the Star Destroyed on which his squadron was stationed "This is Nails Actual reporting in. We didn't make it in time to save the Anvil. Nails Squadron will stick around and reinforce the current position however - try and get some payback while we're at it. Nails Actual out!"

~~~~~~~~~~

"DeepSix, can you hear me?" a familiar voice resounded in Golden One's helmet. A single glance over to the comm unit immediately informed the latter that the message was coming from the Adjudicator. The voice, as well as the fact that he was referred to by his callsign as opposed to his position - something he'd expect from other pilots on the field rather than the ship's comm operators - made Seth Qorbin wonder.

"Trick?" the blond officer inquired tentatively. He had a fairly good relationship with the ship's captain as well as prior history with him so interactions between the two weren't as official and stuck up as with most of the other officers. Seth actually wondered whether a wooden stick was provided as part of an officer's uniform. The purpose of said stick? Well that should've been fairly evident in all honesty...

"Indeed... Listen DeepSix, Dominion bombers are causing a bit of trouble on our defense perimeter. Any chance you can do something about it?" the other man questioned in a clear and steady tone of voice.

Seth grinned upon hearing that question - that is if it could even be called a question in the first place. The truth of the matter was that Trykon knew full well what the VEN officer could do in the field. The man suspected that was at least part of the reason he was requested to join the Commander's crew as WC. The fact that he was now informed of bombers being a nuisance was less of a courtesy and more of an invitation. An invitation to get out there and fix a problem that was well in his power to fix.

"Was starting to get bored taking out fighters anyway..." Qorbin jokingly replied. He did not wait for any further confirmation from the Adjudicator but instead decided to go ahead and address his squadron "Mission parameters have changed. Sweep through the battlefield and take out any and all enemy bombers you find. Request aid if encountering larger formations. Good hunting!"

OOC:

WC: 1230
AAR: VE CR90 Anvil takes some damage from enemy bombers. Hard Nails squadron is sent in to supplement the existing starfighter presence in the area. The latter manage to take out some bombers but not before losing the Anvil. Trykon subsequently asks your truly to wreak some havoc on the enemy bombers found flying about.

Reason for the last request - 1. fact that Ellie is apparently keeping tabs of who gets destroyed and where, so Trick could realistically find out about it; 2. I wasn't sure whether the loss of a cap ship warranted any sort of reaction, but if it did I left that bit fairly open; 3. figured I'd add some more CD and interpersonal stuff to the mix and in so doing clear out and/or complicate some things

Fletcher felt that if she were to take her hands from the controls she would probably shake violently. A mixture of purely elated excitement and complete and utter anxiety was running through her. But she swallowed the feeling and kept her grip tight. This was nothing like the piloting she had done back on Bespin, but it did remind her of the forced calm before the start of a race. The uneasy silence within the cockpit, as everyone waited for the gun shot. Makenna broke through the thick silence, and Fletcher grinned to herself.

“Ready to take down some dogs?”

“More than ready.” She had been training for this for longer than she could stand. Sure, she was patient - as a prosperous gambler you really need to be- but sometimes her patience wore a bit too thin. Especially when adrenaline pounded in her ears.

“Dunn to team – check your scanners, we’ve got TIE’s incoming. They ain’t got missiles or shields, so let’s make this quick. Give ‘em a missile volley, then go for the kill.”

Fletcher’s eyes flitted down to the sensor screen, quickly counting how many they were up against. “24…” she muttered to herself. “This’ll be interesting.” A Cheshire cat grin fixed itself upon her lips as she waited for a target. Once she locked on it was only a matter of waiting from for the word. Fletcher’s trigger finger’s hovered above their respective starts. Dunny’s voice was loud, but welcome in her ears. The word left his lips, and she followed through not a moment after. Fletcher watch as her missiles joined those of her squads, dropping from the under bellies of their fighters.

Fletch knew you had to be a complete idiot to not know to get out of the way when 24 missiles came your way, so what happened next didn’t surprise her in the least. She had hoped that maybe it would be as easy as sending an arsenal towards them, and watching the smoke afterwards. Though It was clear that it wasn’t going to turn out like that as Fletcher watched the Dominion’s TIE Fighters scatter like a flock of startled Orokeet. Her eyes few down to her sensor screen to see that a few of the enemy lights had been snuffed out by the missiles they had sent their way.
“Dunn to 50th. Wipe them out.”

Fletcher nearly mock-saluted the space in front of her as she watch her new SC shoot forward towards their opponents, but her hands stayed firmly in place, ready to follow in his lead. “I’m right behind you, Cobalt 11,” her wingmate’s voice came through their channel.

“Right. Let’s go,” Fletcher responded with a sharp nod and she shot out into space. Conscious of Makenna behind her, Fletcher caught on the tail of a TIE Fighter that had been on the verge of getting locking onto one of the squad member. Fletcher sent a shot towards them, not looking to shoot them down, but merely to push them form their target. Her plan worked, and Fletcher pulled forward closer towards them. They were jittery in their flying pattern, and she couldn’t get a lock on.

She was quickly becoming more frustrated by the moment, when suddenly Makenna’s ‘blip’ – which sat directly behind her- on her sensor was replaced by that of another, and this blip was not the friendly kind. Fletcher hadn’t expected the fighter tailing her to lock on so suddenly and Fletcher was forced to dodge it sharply, swearing to herself. The dominion dog she had been tailing had also been taken by surprise, and Fletcher found herself much closer to their tail end than she had been before. It took her a moment to register the distance and she realized that they were close enough to collide, but also close enough that if she shot him, he was down for the count, no questions asked. But that also meant that Fletcher would get the aftershock. Gritting her teeth, Fletcher locked onto the back of the TIE. She didn’t wait around to make sure she connected, the moment she pulled the trigger; Fletcher yanked the yoke and shot upwards away from the TIE she had just shot down.

“Cobalt 11! How are you doing?”

Fletcher let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.  “I’m right as rain,” Fletcher responded with an almost giddy laugh. “You alright?” she asked as she found Makenna’s TIE on her senor screen. Fletch turned her fighter around to catch up with her wingmate. Soon she was alongside the other woman, flying close to her.

“I’m good,” Makenna responded.

“Still in tack I hope.” Fletcher studied the screen, trying to count the number of dominion TIE’s were still flying. “How many left do you reckon?” she asked the other over their channel. 

“Not too sure,” came the answer. Fletcher nodded and grazed her finger over the triggers again, itching to shoot again.

OOC:

word count: 825 (not as long as I'd have liked but exam's are fast approaching.)

ARR: Fletch fire's her missiles with the rest of the squad and quickly enters the fight. She takes down one ID TIE. And then flies off to meet with Makenna again.

Michele wanted a drink badly, the battle ensuing in front of her very eyes both reassured and concerned her at the same time. A rather large battle was going on outside this hulking durasteel object called a ship. Though she knew it could take one hell of a beating, she also knew it wasn’t indestructible and that they were taking a decent beating.

Taking her eyes away from the viewscreen, she carefully scanned the rest of the bridge and had a good look at everyone else on deck. Tension could be read on everyone’s faces – at least the ones she could see. She knew hers was as tense and stony-looking as the rest of them.

Glancing at the constantly changing data fields in front of her, she paid close attention to every single report rolling in from all the other stations. Things seem to be going well, considering… She didn’t have time to mull over things too much, as her Commander Trykon materialized beside her and she dutifully rattled off the latest report she could come up with. Things were changing so rapidly that she had become accustomed to reporting on-the-fly with almost up-to-the-second updates. She wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad thing…Either way she found it to be her most effective method of reporting, and so she kept to it.
”They’re delaying” Trykon said after she had finished her report. She was just alittle frustrated, and he tuned into that.
After he calmly told her to not fret and seemed to like the term she had used; “kill shots” she wondered whether or not he was suffering from exhaustion or if he was improving in the “must hide my feelings” department.

With him, she studied the holo and together they tried to determine which targets to take out next. What was also on her mind however, was the increasing number of escape pods she was picking up.

We need to get some of these guys out…We can’t save them all, which is unfortunate. And then there’s these nuisances we must take care of as well… Her brow furrowed in frustration as well as concentration and she rubbed the side of her face hard – the one thing which she thought gave her feelings away. Well, some of them anyway…

“Sir, we have an increasing number of escape pods in my sights – a rescue mission must be attempted to save at least some of these men while we keep hammering away at the enemy!”

“Agreed, get on it!”

“Yessir”

                                 


Shortly after their departure from the Adjudicator, the first wave of evac shuttles started to encounter heavy traffic along with even heavier enemy fire. We’ll be hard-pressed to make this evac a quick one… The pilot was white-knuckling it to the nearest escape pod, shields were holding up fairly well and his co-pilot, recently graduated from the Academy started to have a green-ish tinge about his skin. “If you’re gonna toss your cookies make sure to use one of the bags provided, miss and you’re cleaning this thing from top to bottom with a toothbrush!” The pilot snapped, frustrated with the fact he was stuck with the new guy along with being in a real tight spot.

“Control, a little help over here would be nice!” He roared into his comm. before executing a perfect barrel-roll, thus avoiding a few bolts of energy that had been headed his way.

“Roger that” came a female voice he didn’t recognize.
He didn’t have time to ponder who the mystery woman was, a few seconds after his request was acknowledged a few more bolts of energy appeared in front of his viewscreen save for these weren’t headed for him! Finally…A request someone grants with no problem on either end!

Their problems having tapered a bit for the time being, the shuttle dutifully kept on its seemingly suicidal mission. There were pilots to be saved and time was very tight. Just as they started to breathe a little easier, the pilots stumbled upon their first two pods. Which one would they haul back to safety?

Decisions, decisions…

OOC:

WC: 689
AAR: A bit of an insight into Ellie's thoughts as well as a bit of a start for anyone wanting to do NPC posts pertaining to rescuing anyone stranded in a pod

Hades had given up trying to contact anyone around a half hour ago. Nobody seemed to respond in the heat of battle and he was frankly wasting precious breath. It was a surprise, then, when his eyes snapped open to the sound of a scraping against the hull. Interesting..  Hades' green eyes could just make out the markings of the VE painted on the underside of the otherwise bleak hull. He found it strange they were using these kinds of shuttles for search and rescue, as he'd thought they'd dispatch small vessels with hangar bays. With a clang, something latched onto the hull - a magnetised form of a towing cable, for want of a better word - and Hades sighed. The shuttle was a sitting duck like this. "Get moving, you toad.." The Squadron Commander muttered exasperatedly.

With a vibration through the deck, the movement commenced and Hades could see the beautiful rainbow effect of the vicious but silent clash between titans. It was a fierce battle from the look of it, but it was always destined to be one sided. The Imperial Dominion simply could not match the ardour, excellence and strike power of the VE - true enough, they would take lives by the tens of thousand and they'd put up a damn good fight.. But they were a dying tiger, fighting even though it knows its irreparably wounded. Perhaps that made them more dangerous; the fact that they had nothing to lose was not an encouraging thought to go into battle with -- they could be the most stubborn of fighters. It did not bode well for the VE, even if the ID was significantly weakened, that they were almost suicidal -- they'd do anything to keep their hearts beating, to sustain their way of life. But on the flipside, if the VE was beaten here.. They might not recover.

A few minutes later, Hades was snapped out of his musings by another clang and an uneasy feeling in his stomach as the escape pod's gravity was replaced by that of a larger ship. Judging from the hangar bay, Hades would have said an Imperial-class to say the least - it certainly wasn't the Brilliant, though, where he was last stationed. Too spacious for that. It looked somewhat similar to the Warrior, though. It was not until Hades saw the word Adjudicator printed on the Hangar bay's back wall that he recognised the name. By all rights it was an impressive ship. But who was commanding it? He knew the Task Force XO would be Serpent, but who would have such a powerful ship? Trykon, perhaps, but he was stationed on the Brilliant when last Hades had seen him.

Hades shook his musings off and hit the release button for the escape pod's hatch, but knew before he did anything else that he was in for a bad day. The rapid hum of energy weapons powering up cut through his thoughts like ice in his veins. His green eyes caught on three Naval troopers pointing their DL-44s at the hatch and by consequence, at him. "You've got to be kidding me.." He murmured.

"Hands on your head, buddy!" Their leader barked. Hades did not move, just evaluating his situation. "I said hands on your head!"

"I heard you the first time." Hades muttered in response, but still did not move. Seeing Hades was supposedly unarmed, the man moved forward confidently and made to manhandle the young squadron commander. Big mistake. As he reached out with his off hand, Hades smacked it aside and pulled his gun hand forward and past him, wedging it between his arm and his ribs before twisting suddenly to sprain, if not break the man's wrist and allow the blaster into his hands. In the same fluid movement, Hades continued spinning until he came full circle, blaster leveled evenly between the offending man's eyes and a deadly spark in his emeral gaze."Contact the Task Force XO. Authorisation code Aurek-Cresh-17-Abrae-Abrae-12."

The trooper's companion's hesitated, their line of fire blocked by the overconfident one among them. Noticing the hesitation, the leader growled at them. "Just do as he says!" Without delay now, the second trooper spoke rapidly into his comm.

"Demetrius Aita..?" The second trooper ventured after he'd received a response. Hades lowered the blaster, nodding and returning it butt first to the man he'd snatched it from.

"Aye." The first trooper looked hurt, more in pride than in body, but he did not comment.

"You're wanted on the bridge. The Chief of Naval Warfare wishes to speak with you briefly." Hades nodded slowly.

"So Captain Mihawk has moved his flag.. Interesting." They had begun to walk by now, and the second trooper cast him a strange look.

"No.."

"Then he's visiting this ship?" Hades queried, confused.

"No.. Captain Mihawk is no longer the Chief of Naval Warfare." Seeing Hades' frown deepen, the man continued. "Wyl Trykon is."

---

Hades walked onto the bridge, escorted by the two troopers - the first had gone to the medbay - amid a few curious glances from the bridge crew. But Hades had his gaze fixated on one place - The commanding officer. Stony faced as ever, Trykon split an emotionless smile. "Still causing trouble, Mr. Aita?"

"I do my best, Li-" Hades' gaze caught on his rank bars and he corrected himself. "-Commander Trykon, sir."

"Good to hear. Your captivity was a most inconvenient affair, Hades. But it's good that you're back." Trykon's eyes portrayed just how knowledgeable he was, his cunning mind and sharp insight. "You're to be debriefed after we're done here. Until then, you have quarters assigned to you."

"With all due respect, sir, I'd like to pilot a TIE Interceptor for the remaining duration of the battle. WIth Tuk'ata, if possible." Hades gauged Trykon's reaction, but got nothing from the man's features.

"Request denied. You will be debriefed and tested before you're allowed back into a fighter." Hades opened h is mouth to speak, but the Commander raised a hand to silence him. "And Tuk'ata as you know it is dissolved.. Return to your quarters, Mr. Aita. You are dismissed."

"But sir-"

"You are dismissed, Mr. Aita. I have a battle to run."

Hades meekly saluted and turned, leading the two troopers off the bridge in a brooding silence. He was unsure what to do with himself, now that he'd been denied permission to join the battle. Undeniably one of the largest counterstrikes in recent times, not to mention a chance to make sure Vrail was finished, and Hades was ordered to sit it out. He'd probably get a medal or two for his efforts on the Bloodmoon, but he doubted he'd get his wings back... Then again, he could always steal them back..

But that was a last-ditch scenario.

---

Vrail was not, in fact, dead as Hades would have hoped. He was wounded critically, but not dead.. Not yet. Himself and his senior officers - as well as their med officer - had fit into one of the escape pods and were now aboard a lesser known CR-90, the Spiked Fist. Vrail's wounds had been dealt with as far as they could  - he'd not get a fully healed stomach until they reached proper medical facilities with proper experts, but it was enough to see him back onto his feet. The pain only added to his frustration. They'd had a VENI agent right there,  and just like that he'd disappeared. Blast him! Vrail thought sourly.

"Something on your mind, Lieutenant?" Asked the commanding officer, a Lieutenant Juntru.

"Indeed. Quite the different case to yours, I'd venture." Vrail retorted scathingly. They were in a pitched space battle and the Commanding officer had time to ask Vrail what was on his mind? He obviously was not doing his job.

"I was simply asking out of curiousity, Vrail."

"And I was responding, Juntru. Do me a favour and look up section 11.3.8, subsection T."
Vrail remarked coldly.

"I already know it. It means if a ship's captain is doing an inadequate job, an intelligence agent may assume command of the vessel in his stead-"

"-and therefore the crew. Thank you, Lieutenant. The security personnel will see you to your quarters." The now shipless Captain suddenly had a ship again. While Juntru did not respond, gaping, Vrail continued. "Sergeants Yaler and Imrazyl, please remove Lieutenantt Juntru from the bridge."

"You can't do this!" Juntru spluttered. Vrail did not respond as the two sergeants complied with the infinitely more dangerous lieutenant. Turning his gaze to the read outs, Vrail began to plan.

"Comms!" Vrail barked. "Inform Fleet Command of the change in hierarchy and tell them I am reevaluating our combat situation, suggesting wide scouting run to hit them from the side. Helm, plot us a course to the safest edge of the system and then a jump for the nearest Naval Depot. On the double if you please."

The plan began to form in his h ead like crystal; yes, it would work perfectly. As he'd been addressing the Helmsman, the Comm. Officer had contacted fleet command and by now was listening to their response. "You have fleet approval, sir."

"Very good. Helmsman, make good on that course. Immediately." Vrail, Vrail, run away.. Live to fight another day. Idiots, idiots, decide to stay..Never see the end of day. A small smirk crept across the Lieutenant's features. He'd get a medal for this.

---

Varys' featureless eyes surveyed the now ameliorated holo-display. Flutters of static flickered through it as the last strands of the virus were found and purged by the electronic warfare specialist. "System's back up, sir." His smoothe, silky tone purred into his chin microphone. He waited a few moments, but got only static, causing a small frown to flicker over his unremarkable facial features. A few moments later, a reply came back that was riddled with static.

"Where ar- t--y? Tak--g casualties from shrap--l, headpiece dama--d. Do y-- re--?" Varys didn't even bother to respond. There was no way that he would get his point through, so instead he delved into the security systems. As a state of the art security system, a whole variety of sensors and cameras had been installed on the lower levels to protect the bio-weapons lab and their occupants. It was now Varys chose to activate them, because if his assertions were correct, the intruders were heading downward. Bingo. There was a heat signature nearing the lab, with three others not far behind. Varys licked his lips casually as his eyes darted over the displays. There was a team in the lab. Varys smiled slightly.

"Team 23, remove your armour and pose as scientists. I want you to pretend to defect then take as many of them as you can with you. If all else fails, destroy the lab and the scientists" Team 23 was - unbeknown to Ziel - Varys' personal squad, leant to him by ID intelligence.. They were undoubtedly the best this station had to offer.. He was interested to seee what they would make of this quaint VENI team..

"Understood, Sir." Came back the gruff voice of Team 23's leader. Strangely enough, a lot of Team 23 did not look military, a fact which had constantly perplexed the ever insightful head of security. But Varys had had them maintain such appearances for this precise reason. Now that his ulterior motives had been satisfied to an extent, Varys reactivated his channel with Ziel, boosting the signal through the security system.

"Sir, they're heading toward the labs... Proceed with caution."

"Understood, Varys." Ziel was clearer now.

"Wait, how many were they?" Varys asked. Ziel hesitated.

"Six. Seven at the most."

"There are three still in the computer core." Varys deduced easily.

"I read you." Ziel returned before cutting the channel into silence. Varys' eyes continually darted from display to display in excitement, a sort of blood lust brought on by the violence both here and above in space. This would be fun to watch.

---

It did not take Team 23 long to get changed, nor indeed did it take them long to plant explosives inside several control panels and rigged them like booby-traps. This would be an ambush to remember. Sergeant Yuri, their leader, eased the last panel into place and stepped back, admiring his work.. It was perfectly done, and team 23 now blended in without adoubt. Even Yuri, at five foot seven, was not out of place in this motley group of so-called scientists. Some of them had tried to bluster their way around Yuri's military authority, but the veteran knew his job and he knew it well. He would not allow civilian oversight in any aspect of his job.. Ever. He was military through and through, raised by a family with generations of military history.

Military was his thing. That was why he'd been handpicked to lead this elite team of commandos. With the heavy weaponry such as repeaters hidden throughout the room in strategic locations and hold-out blasters for all the members of the team, he was sure that the VENI team would have absolutely no idea what hit them. Another key to team 23 was that they always adapted. They never stopped learning and, though they considered themselves the best of the best, creme de la creme, the top dogs.. They had to adapt to stay on top.

It was no excuse to simply stay at one level of greatness. Higher levels of greatness had to be acheived, in Yuri's mind and the improvements never stopped. Yuri's eyes once again scanned the room, trying to pick out any inconsistencies. He failed, however; there were none. His work was done, for now. "Sir. This is Yuri. We're ready for them."

"Excellent, Sergeant. This is where the fun part starts.." Came back Varys' unpleasantly tuneful voice. Nobody really liked the spooky Lieutenant, but then again nobody disputed his raw efficiency - and danger - so he was always treated with an air of respect.. When he wasn't? Well, that was another tale entirely.. Sergeant Yuri snapped his thoughts back into the present and cut the comm line with Varys, refocusing his gaze on the stations that had been so quickly yet perfectly put into place. This was excellent work

Satisfied with his deadly preparations, Sergeant Yuri called out. "Team, to your stations. Back to work!" With the simple order, people jumped into action and returned to their stations, with military members working along side civilians at randomly interspersed places along the way. Even Yuri's trained eye could barely pick out the military from the civilians, and he knew his men. That spoke volumes as to their effectiveness. Making sure everyone was seated as per his plan, Yuri nodded to himself and sat down at one of the stations, beginning to do what he termed quite simply 'science stuff'. Let the games begin..

OOC:

Wordcount: 2,516

AAR: Hades has an encounter with Trykon and is banned from joining the battle at this stage pending psych analysis and debriefing. He is not pleased about this. Vrail, on the other hand, has survived and is back on his feet, displaying true will to live. He assumes command of the CR-90 'Spiked Fist' and begins to withdraw it without the knowledge of his superiors.. He means to save his own behind and get a medal for it.

VENI: Lieutenant Varys reveals his secret weapon - Team 23, a cross trained commando unit on loan from intelligence. Team 23 and their hardened leader, Sergeant Yuri, are in the lab with the scientists - posing as scientists - and await the VENI team in earnest. They plan to gain their trust (or try) before shooting them in the back and blowing up the lab. If it does not go to plan, they'll try and destroy everything - including the scientists and themselves. Not only are they top-notch commandos.. They're also willing to do anything to achieve the mission. Including kamikaze tactics.

Flying low over the scrubby semblances of trees he watched as Yvaine Thorne waved to her squadron from the ground. It was nice to see someone who had the survival instinct to still be alive after ejecting in the middle of a dog fight. Rocking his craft back and forth he flew over her and gained altitude as his squadron flew in slow circles keeping a look out for enemy fighters or ground troops.

"Rescue and recovery, this is Iron lead. Got one downed pilot at coordinates my location." He said into the rescue and recovery channel. He knew marines would be landing once air superiority had been accomplished, he hoped they would not tell him to relay to his downed pilot to group up with them. It would most likely lead to her death if she had to trek across the moon's surface to a waiting shuttle.

"Locked your position Iron Lead, rescue shuttle coming down now. Skies are currently clear, but it is being escorted. Relaying orders from the Adjudicator for you." The voice of an older female said over the comm a few seconds later. "Sensors found a new contact of some type about twenty klicks from your present location. Using data collected last time, it's something new. Scout it, and await further orders."

"Roger rescue, relay to home base we're on the job." Joamer said as he switched back to his squadron's frequency.

Looking down he locked in the coordinates that had been sent to him. Flying low over the downed pilot again he rocked his wings back and forth and said, "Shuttle is coming down for you Starlight, stay save till they get here. Keep the light burning for us, we're following you home soon."

"Roger Lead, I'll try my best." The voice of the younger girl said as Joamer flew over her slowly.

"Strill, form up on me. New objective, new sensor data picked up something interesting about twenty klicks from here. Full throttle, skim the surface the whole approach. We don't want them to know we are coming, once we get there Besh and Cresh will head left and right respectively. We'll come at them from three sides, and take out any resistance we find. If we are lucky any fighter cover they put down here will be around the facility and will not be flying over this new target." He said as the squadron formed up behind him slowly.

Lowering his fighter even closer to the ground he pushed the throttle to full and turned off the collision alert system that had begun screaming at him. He knew the squadron was thinking about Maidig Trallin that held the designation of Iron eight for a short time, he was the first official death in the squadron and he would not be the last. Joamer knew he could not show too much emotion at one pilots death, he had to stay strong to keep everyone else in the correct mindset. Some said he seemed cold and callous about who died under his command, but they would be wrong. Every death dug a part of him away, and after years of doing this the list he carried for the dead was long. One day he would have to answer to them for why they died and he lived, he knew some of them waited for him across the river.

"Nugget was a pilot first and foremost. Not many of you had the clearance to pull his records but he loved flying, even if he was a bit new at the job. I can tell you he died doing what he enjoyed first and foremost, he was here to prove to himself he could do it and no one else. I would let any of you who wished it to create a message to his family in remembrance, but he had none. He was the only child, and his parents both died in a fire almost a decade ago. One of the first things he said to me, was that he hoped this would become his family. If you want to honor his memory then work together, and pull through this mission. Once this is over we'll toast to the memories of the fallen, and keep them alive in our hearts."

Glancing at a screen he saw a frequency request from Iron three, switching over to her channel he said, "Yes my Rain, have you tamed your coffin yet?"

The silence stretched on for a few long moments before she said, "Not quite yet, this thing is slower than a bantha on a date. Anyways, was that true about Nugget?"

Smiling at the thought of a bantha on a date, he said "Yes it was, something he wanted kept secret till he told everyone himself but it was true."

"Don't let it eat at you too much, I know of the list you carry but you can't save everyone." She said softly.

"Sensor contact, massive energy build up detected. Scans pick up ionized plasma, why would they..." The voice of Iron four said slowly.

"Frak me, ion cannon. All fighters land now, emergency procedure find a spot and park it." Joamer said as he cut the throttle and shoved his fighter almost into the ground with his controlling of the repulsorlifts. Cutting power to everything but the repulsorlifts he unhooked himself from the seat and grabbed his equipment. "Pilots, we have to go on foot from here. Do a last check of your weapons, and get out of your fighters. Four, any other lifeforms detected near here?"

The moments ticked by as Joamer hooked the egg container to his back and grabbed his pulse rifle before opening the hatch above him. Pulling himself up he leaned against the hatch and scanned the area in front of him slowly as he readied his rifle. "Can't be sure, too much interference from the energy buildup."

"Would they have really put an planetary based cannon here since we left?" Bright said as he saw her jump down from her fighter and take cover behind one of her solar panels.

Sliding down his cockpit himself he hit the ground and bent his knees, bringing up his rifle he breathed slowly as he waited for everyone else to remove themselves from their cockpits. The squadron was slow, but he knew this would be their first time leaving a fighter in the middle of a battle.

"I doubt it, those can be assembled in a few hours but why risk it when the chances are you are not holding this space for long. Probably used a ship based one, with a few capacitors you could build up to maybe three or five shots before you had to recharge." Edge said slowly.

"Most likely a surprise for the Adjudicator, take down our command ship with a surprise shot like that. If they had ships waiting for that moment they could disable her quickly without her shields up." Bright said as he quickly ran towards the nearest rock out cropping.

"No time to hide the fighters, let's just hope they did not notice us approach. Target is three klicks out, Rain edge you have scouting duties. We'll be a few hundred yards behind you, standard signal if you find something. If you find a scout take them out if need be, but no killing just yet. Tried to do a radio chaser back to home base, but the interference is making communication spotty. Once they begun a buildup I think the fleet was just waiting for the shots to go off, no way for them to communicate when they would be ready from down here." Joamer said as he waited for the rest of the squadron to join up around him. He did not know how much time they had before the buildup was complete, but judging by the energy readings they did not have long. If they could gain control of the facility fast enough the Adjudicator would be save for now.

OOC:

WC-1341. With the reinforcements having finally arrived the enemy fighters make a break for space. Our two squadron's chasing them to hopefully join up with Chlovi or Gundark and hit the facility again. Strill is sent orders to investigate a new sensor contact but makes a troubling discovery.

Cervidae could feel a smile break out from underneath her helmet as her wingmate started going on and on about her family’s little dictums. It was innocent, light hearted, and just a great first-look into her new partner.  And, even better, it seemed to answer the question of who she was closest to. The woman was a clear Daddy’s Girl if there ever was one. “Expect the expected, eh? I think I can live with that. How ‘bout we expect the expected to be a victory today, hm? Tear apart these traitors and introduce them to the true power of the Empire… And the Chlovi.”

The Senior Crewman’s hands tightened around the yoke, keeping her grip as steady as possible as the fighting broke out all around them. The glow of lasers dancing around the fleet of ships as friend and foe began a waltz of battle that called her into it. Even her sensor screen seemed to become alive as yellow blips danced like proud stars around red ones that seemed to vanish from the screen as quickly as they appeard on it. This battle was one for the Empire; it was transparently clear for that. Incredible strength and power went into such poetic forms of slaughter that the woman felt herself adjusting in her seat, the excitement making her restless. There would be no mercy; it wasn’t their style.

Just as predicted over the true bloodlust the pack and their unique leader, Sam Dunn’s voice echoed in her ears over the community comm. TIE’s, completely exposed to the munitions of highly capible Interceptors due to their lack of shields and missiles, were incoming. And, starting the fun, the man issued a missle volley from the squad.  Cervidae felt herself chewing on her lower lip, mirroring the pensive thoughts that raced through her head. Sitting ducks? The Fighter’s are playing distraction. Pose just a smidge of a threat and, yet, still know that they aren’t going to win anything. So, are we that much of a challenge to these traitors? So much so that they need to throw a distraction at us? The woman’s grey eyes landed on the Cobalt 1, her lips twisting into a smile. If the enemy thought them serious threats, then it was up to him to prove them right. And it was up to the rest of the pack to follow his orders until the very end. 

The grin on her face was shining behind her helmet, especially as her hands moved to the two smooth buttons on her yoke that suddenly felt very needy. With a deep breath, Cerv pulled her Interceptor towards the growing cluster of Chlovi members – each of them proudly bearing the distinctive cyan stripe – and in no time, she found herself settling right next to her wingmate as her targeting computer choose the best possible duck.  Coming together as if they had flown together much longer than was true, the 50th assumed their positions, locked onto their targets, and fired the missles the moment the heavy accent of their leader’s “Fire” rung like music in their ears. 

The volley fired – twenty four glowing missiles flying straing to the formation of TIE Fighters. A familiar tone of bloodlust echoed in her ears as Dunny demonstrated just how serious he was about an absolute victory and the moment he slammed foward on his accelerator, flying himself into the masterpiece of exploding Fighters and broken assults, Cervidae turned her attention back to Twitch. Her fingers moved the comm, switching back to the private link between them as she took to her wingmate’s side. To Cerv’s delight, the woman already had a little plan forming. She nodded to herself, grinning as she allowed her partner’s suggestion to take hold as she moved her thumbs to the triggers of her munitions.

"A Corellian Slip? Haha! Are we smugglers?" The smile blended with obvious excitement could be heard over the comm, her tone agreeing to the maneuver before her words did. The fact that her wingmate suggested that trick so early on was kind of amusing for the woman. Back when a good majority of her time was spent on a hospital bed – staring at the painfully white floors, ceiling, walls, beds – the stories of smugglers and pirates kept her from loosing her mind. Especially the Corellian smugglers, since their serious dedication to working together sounded incredible to a girl who needed a support team the longer she did nothing… Cerv shook her head quickly, dismissing the thoughts as she focused on the task at hand. Twitch wanted to use the Slip and she needed to give an answer. In all honesty, the trick was a little tricky but incredibly effective in taking out the enemy in a short period of time. Yes, something as quick as a Slip would do perfectly well. Besides, amongst this panic and confusion, a maneuver as speedy as the Corellian Slip would work out just fine... "Just pick a target, Twitch, and we can get this party started..."

Adrenline was pumping through the woman’s veins, reminding her heart just how much she craved this fighting. Cervidae’s eyes wandered off the silent explosions just for a moment to look over at the Cobalt 1, entirely curious as to the man’s fighting style. He was quick, vicious, and effective. Yet he led his team on the basis of trust, regardless of how long they had known eachother, and worked very hard to see that the pack prevailed, just as the motto said. And, even still, despite the fact he seemed to act as lone flyer, his every action still revolved around hunting with his squad. If the interest to learn more about him wasn’t strong before, it had certainly become a new priority of hers to study.

The brunette grinned behind her helmet, her mind already moving off the SCPO and was very much ahead in planning what to do. It was too easy to predict that there would be plenty of Fighters that would break formation the moment missiles started to hit. Self preservation was a very strong desire in any creature that was classified as 'living', especially those with no shields. They may have been commissioned as suicide flyers (only good for a decent distraction), but even they had to flinch at the glowing missiles that labeled their certain deaths. Those who couldn’t escape fast enough had already met their fates and it was time for the scattering Flyers to join them in oblivion. The 50th wasn't going to allow for anything less than total annihilation.

Yes… it’s obvious, isn’t it? Just like the Chlovi cat, we’ve obtained the taste for blood. ..

A slow, concentrated exhale pushed out of her lips, pushing off any idle thoughts for that of absolute focus. The Fighters were perfect targets to take out, especially with the obvious superiority of the TIE Interceptors. Yet, obvious distraction or not, the enemy was a threat until it was dead – just like the Fighter that the Cobalt 8 was dead-set on taking down. Cervidae’s mouth opened to question her partner’s choice on targetting, especially since none of her shots actually hit the fleeing foe, but the Fighter’s wingmate decided to turn their guns on Twitch. Cerv was fast to thrust her ship towards him, closing the distance between the Fighter and Interceptor.

There was absolutely no chance that she was going to allow some Rebel’s TIE Fighter to take out her partner, regardless of the fact that Twitch was wasting a bit of precious time by playing chicken with someone she should have been able to take out quickly. Interceptors were faster, stronger than any Fighter dreamed to be, so why was she having trouble locking on? Cerv chewed on her lower lip and let her eyebrows knit together. She had to have some sort of reason as to why she was taking so long… Ooor maybe I’m going to have to improve her shooting abilities with  a little sim training…

“Hey, 8,  you’ve got his wingmate tailing you. Heads up, I’ll deal with him.” The woman reached for a small screen on her left, moving power from her own shields and pushed them to her engines and weapons. Speed was everything she needed right now, just for a moment, and Cerv took no time in speeding into the vast abyss of space. Her ship dodged past stray munitions from other fights, taking quickly to the smoothness of her TIE’s new handling of her beast. The woman let out a quick exhale, emptying the breath from her lungs before focusing her sights and sensors on the rebel fighter that  picked the wrong Interceptor to mess with. She sent a few warning shots the rebel’s way, sending him to pull up to attempt to survive. The action itself merely signed his fate on a death wish.

A smirk pulled at the edges of the brunette’s lips as she followed the Fighter’s pathetic attempt at escape before opening fire on him. He wasn’t entirely sitting in her targeting systems center, making the first few shots fly dangerously close to his wings and cockpit, but ultimately failed at making contact. Still, within moments after the failed shots, another round of munitions made silent contact with the TIE and it exploded into a beautiful scene of falling ship. With a nod to her beast, Cerv lowered her engine’s power to a steady 75% while her weapons got another boost. The shields were still not important, especially since they were far more technologically advanced in this fight. Speed was serving her well at the moment and there was always the ‘panic button’ if she absolutely needed it. The only thing that the traitors had to their name was willpower – yet, even that seemed in the favor of the Chlovi.

“He was getting too close.” Cervidae pulled on her yoke, watching the Fighter fall into flames before turning her attention back to the original target and her wingmate. Twitch had managed to pull back, letting the other Fighter fly off a little bit. The action was a little strange and, yet, she could understand the woman’s caution. Sometimes it  was better to stay close to your wingmate than chase after a threat. “I agree with your plan. Let’s pull a Slip. Tell me what you had in mind in terms of a trap.”

OOC:

WC: 1731 (Haaaaah. And here I was, thinking that I wasn't going to break 1,000... xD)

AAR: Cervidae is flying strong in the Cobalt 7. She and Twitch begin a bit of discussion over plans to take out traitors, seeming to mutually agree on attempting a Corellian Slip to take out a troublesome Fighter that survived the missile volley that Dunny had issued and the Chlovi had executed. However, to remove a threat from becoming an issue later on, Cervidae managed to take down a TIE Fighter that flew as the current target's wingmate quickly before taking back to Twitch's side. Now it's time for the women of Besh Flight to set a trap.

If one thing is certain for this flyer, she's incredibly pleased with the absolute methods that the 50th Squadron uses to wipe out traitors. 

OOC:

VENI NPC Post

A mischievous smile was sprayed all over the Arkanian female's face as she trotted through the dark maintenance tunnel. She'd been waiting for an opportunity to make herself scarce ever since she accepted joining the mission. It was the very reason she was so enthusiastic about coming in the first place.

No matter how safely Grey kept her hidden - and no matter how much she ended up using his resources in exchange - Irya Pael still grew rather tired of being cooked up inside. She longed for the freedom she once had. She wanted to once more travel the galaxy, to once more discover new scientific venues to pursue, to once more advance her own visions rather than the limited ones of those she currently served.

Now at long last, after years of waiting and planning, a chance to do just that presented itself to her. A chance to leave the VENI tower. A chance to go on a mission with only a handful of nuisances to get in her way. A chance to disappear in the midst of it all and once more slip off the radar as far as everyone was concerned.

The white haired woman continued to smile as she kicked out a grate blocking her way further. The forcibly removed panel clinked loudly as it hit the floor but the scientist couldn't care less about it. It was true that she lacked both military discipline as well as combat hardness, but as far as Irya was concerned... she did not need any of those in the first place. Her senses were already better than those of lesser species. Her self inflicted genetic alterations further improved those very senses to levels that she was smart enough not to fully reveal to anyone else. In addition to it all she was also cybernetically enhanced - though nothing major and distasteful.

"Moving to investigate", the woman heard a faint voice coming from somewhere further ahead. Pulling out her simple blaster, Irya hugged the wall on the opposite side and continued her progress towards that voice, not at all bothered by the knowledge that any second an armored Stormtrooper may pop out from around the corner.

As luck would have it, less than ten full seconds passed by before such a Stormtrooper appeared in the hallway. The faceless individual stood tall, fearless and no doubt quite surprised to find himself staring down the barrel of a small handheld blaster. The surprise lasted for but a single moment after which the man began moving, raising his carbine and thinking of shooting down the intruder.

The individual never got a chance to fire though. Before he could complete his move, the Arkanian female standing before him squeezed her own blaster's trigger - in so doing sending a beam of crimson fire straight through the other's visor and skull. The Dominion guard tensed up and buckled over, hitting the cold floor with a hard thud! sound.

The visionary scientist however did not stop to admire her work or even consider the feelings ordinarily attached to such an act. To her the fallen Stormtrooper was just another in a very, very long list of deaths she had caused over the course of time. Granted she had not been forced to kill many of those at point blank range using conventional weaponry but the fact still remained that the deeper meaning of such deaths was entirely wasted on her.

Stepping over the man's sprawled corpse as if it was nothing but a yucky thing in which nobody would really want to step in, Irya Pael pushed forward and deeper through the facility's corridors which she had previously memorized. First there was the matter of securing a way off that rock and secondly was getting some virus samples for herself. She'd pull them apart and tape them back together until she would gain the knowledge of how they were completed - what was their likely efficiency rating and whether there would be any more side effects as a result of their usage.

The scientist next planned on working on a sort of customized vaccine against that virus - merging the deadly concoction with some immunosuppressants and then further adding her own genetic profile to the mix so as to ensure that should this strain of virus ever be used in the future then at least she'll survive it intact. Irya's face again formed a wide smile as she just imagined Frayne's reaction should he be faced with the same set of circumstances. The Arkanian almost envisioned the man deciding to destroy all traces of the virus and if the military opposed such course of action, the Human instead working on creating an universal vaccine that would work for any and every individual of every single species ever discovered - a task that Pael questioned whether would even be possible in the first place.

"Echo Bravo Nine, what's your status?" a barely audible distorted sound reached the woman's ears and she turned back to face the corpse that she just stepped over earlier. "I repeat, Echo Bravo Nine what is your status?" the same voice inquired and ignoring the message itself Irya knelt near the body and uncorked the white helmet from the bloody skull whose face was hardly recognizable any more.

The scientist tilted the helmet so as to see inside and after finding what she sought, reached in to pull a small comm unit attached within. She didn't really care what the Dominion would do to her former team but figured it would not be such a bad idea to stay in the loop either.

Wasted too much time - must push on, the Arkanian thought as she got back to her feet and began moving once more, her steps confident, her gaze merciless.

OOC:

WC: 970
AAR: A fairly short piece explaining Pael's reasons for disappearing, her set of priorities and also the fact she now has access to the ID communications.

“Frak!”

Tik unstrapped himself from the seat and double-checked the integrity of his helmet before opening his hatch, the vacuum of the cockpit tugging on him urgently as it depressurized. What are we doing outside of our ships? he thought to himself, grabbing the rifle he’d been given before leaving the Interceptor.  After finally getting the rifle’s strap across his shoulders right, he nearly ate moondirt as he jumped out of the cockpit, the lower gravity setting him off balance and higher into the air than he had expected.

“Stick with your crew, Strill,” Joamer said through the com, already on the ground and waiting for the squadron to unload.

  It was probably Joamer’s idea from the start. He’d been a stormtrooper, and Tik couldn’t shake the feeling that Strill was on the ground now pretty much because he wanted to be. It must have been premeditated, he thought to himself as he formed up behind what he figured were Xanin and Negom. After some thought, he realized he was actually with Cresh and moved to join his own crew, abashedly trying to make it seem he had actually come from his ship instead of behind Cresh.

“Keep low, and if you hear ships in the air, you get lower and keep still.”

“This is crazy,” He muttered to himself, keeping just behind Negom as they walked across the craggy and uneven terrain. “6 weeks of flight school for this. To end up walking up to a gorram enemy facility like it was nothing! ‘Knock knock, VE here!’ ‘Oh yes, quite normal and expected to have a group of pilots trek across the surface of a moon.’ Nevermind orbital strikes; gungho we go, guns a-blazing like some action holovid.”

A dull whistle pierced the air, audible even in the thin atmosphere of Bloodmoon. Joamer gave the signal to halt and lie low, and everyone complied. The whistle grew to a shriek as several fighters passed overhead. The sound echoed dully and ebbed away, ending in a dull and muted baritone as the ships disappeared into the horizon. Did they see us? Tik thought as a sudden wave of panic washed over him. Oh gosh, they know we’re coming, they know, and they’ll circle around and blast us into little more than moondust… But for a full minute they never circled around. Joamer rose, and waited a few more moments before signaling for the squadron to follow. With the moment now in the past, Tik allowed himself to be annoyed with the situation again. The armor was hot even in the cold weather, and it was much clunkier than a regular jumpsuit.

“…I suppose at the end of this we’ll blow up the facility and find someone to kiss as the rescue ships swoop down from the sky just before we’re all engulfed in the explosion…”

The squadron stopped in a small crater closer to the ion cannon than they were before. Joamer turned to his squadron. He locked eyes with each of them a moment through the dark lens of the visor, seeming to assess them as he thought of what to do next. His shadowed eyes skimmed Tik’s, and he glared back. You planned on this, O Squadron Commander, he thought to himself as Joamer looked at him and then past him to Nogem. I hope you can get us out.

“Alright,” Joamer began. “Together we’re more of a target than we would be spread out more. It’ll give us a wider range of vision, and it’ll let us be more flexible besides. Aurek will stay center, Cresh takes rear. Besh, you’ll take point.”

His eyes looked over everyone again, and Tik felt heat creep up his neck. Well now, I suppose it would be best for the small crew with the inexperienced member to take the lead. What a fine thing to do. Joamer met his glare, and his eyes seemed to grow colder.

“Any questions?”

The tone of voice, it was familiar. And it outraged him all the more. He was in school again, his datapad on the floor and his cred chip in plump, sausagey fingers belonging to a plump, sausagey man-boy with the penchant for schadenfreude. “What’s on your mind, Tik ol’ pal? the man-boy asked him, already pocketing his chip…

“Well, sir, I’d like to know why we are out here like this when we have perfectly good ships. Gorrammit, we are pilots, not recon scouts.”

Joamer’s lips pursed ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. He took a step toward him. Tik was suddenly very aware of how small he was compared to his SC. He took another step toward Tik. The heat wasn’t gone, though; he could still feel the rage inside, the humility of being in the situation, so far away from what he’d expected the Navy to hold for him. It gave him fuel to look into Joamer’s eyes, and gaze at the cold fire in them without flinching. Instead, he gave a thin smile.

“No offense meant though, Warrant Officer.”

He didn’t even get his arm halfway up to his forehead for his satirical salute before a gloved hand clamped firmly around his wrist, squeezing just enough to display more strength than was being used. Surprise shocked him out of his fervor, and he looked from the hand to Joamer’s face, and all he saw was stern disapproval, a nonverbal and motionless look of warning. Suddenly, he realized he wasn’t in school, he was on a rock flying through space with a battle raging on in the sky for the very one they were standing on.

“You’re both now, Crewman Tavrus. You’re pilot and scout, and soldier and mechanic and whatever you need to be to accomplish the mission.”

Tik could no longer keep his gaze. And the moment he dropped his eyes, the moment was over. Joamer turned around and gave the signal to move.

“Into positions everyone. We’re moving out.”

OOC:

WC: 995
AAR: Strill squadron lands, forms up, and heads toward the ion cannon, careful wary of enemy fighters flying past. Tik is bemused and annoyed by their trek, and he attampts to take it out on Joamer. Besh in front, Aurek in the center, and Cresh in the rear.

OOC:

VENI NPC Post

“So we are going for the labs, right?” Asked Argolo Frayne, jogging alongside Ensign Grey and Corporal Elsek.  They were hurrying along a corridor, following a route that neither had divulged to the scientist, taking out surveillance cameras as they went.

“Eventually,” Said the lead VENI Agent.  “First, we need to hamper our enemy.”

So saying, the lithe woman ran ahead towards a turn in the corridor, dropping and sliding as she did so.  A barrage of laser fire promptly emerged from the turn, firing over Grey’s head as she skidded across the shining metal floor.  Doctor Frayne had no idea how she knew that the assailants were there, but even as he came to a hurried stop, Grey was firing back at the duo of Stormtroopers.  At the end of her slide she leapt up into the cover of a doorway, laser fire following her.

As the Stormtroopers fired at Grey, Elsek followed up to the corner, downing the distracted soldiers with a few well-placed shots.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two could take on this entire base alone?” Commented Argolo, as Grey got back to her feet.

Some military folks would have laughed, some would have responded with showy boastfulness.  Ensign Grey, however, was deadly serious when she replied.  Her eyes burned with intensity, her face was the very image of determination.  “If I have to kill everyone in this base alone, then I will,” She said simply.

It was at that moment that Doctor Argolo Frayne realised, truly realised, how dangerous this woman was.  How Grey would go to any lengths, risk it all, for the sake of her mission.  And he also realised that she was just skilled and determined enough to pull it off.

And for the first time he was scared of her.

The scientist gulped, saying nothing, and just waited for her next order.

“This way,” Said the Ensign, and they broke into a run and headed off round the bend.

-----

They proceeded on for another two minutes, continuing to take out security cameras as they moved.  Frayne thought that this was most odd.  Even if the enemy could not see the three VENI agents, they could chart the course of the destroyed cameras and figure out exactly where the trio was headed.  Surely Grey’s team was walking into an ambush?

Eventually they came to a long hallway bathed in red lighting.  Barely ten meters long, it lacked any side passages or convenient cover, and terminated in a single large door.  Emblazoned on the door was aurebesh writing spelling out the word SECURITY, and it was guarded by no less than four Stormtroopers.

As soon as Argolo saw the guards he raised his sidearm and clumsily took aim.  He was far from a marksman, and had rarely held a weapon before this undertaking this mission.  In fact, Frayne had yet to fire his heavy Merr-Sonn DD6 blaster pistol on this mission, but he fired now.

He gripped it with two hands, braced for the kickback, squeezed the trigger, and fired in the general direction of the white-armoured guards.

Either side of Frayne, Grey and Elsek were firing as well.  The Stormtroopers shot back, and soon bright red laser fire was criss-crossing the corridor.  One enemy went down, then a second.  Argolo fired again and again, and one of his shots connected!  The third Stormtrooper fell under his hit, and elation surged through him!  He had done it!  He had been useful!

And then all thoughts left his body as return fire by the fourth and final guard hit him.

The blast caught the scientist in the arm, spinning him around as agony blazed through every nerve.  Frayne dropped his gun as he crashed awkwardly to the floor, eyes blurring with tears as the pain devoured every thought in his mind.

Time lost all meaning, and he was unsure for how long he lay there.  Seconds?  Hours?  Argolo could not tell, but eventually he felt himself slipping towards unconsciousness.  And then, suddenly, a new sensation lanced through him.  It blew the pain away, diminishing it to a mere background throb, and gave him a surge of energy to wake him up too.

He blinked away the tears, focused his eyes, and looked at the figure he now realised was standing over him.

“On your feet, Doctor,” Said Ensign Grey, putting the pain-killers and stims back into her survival kit.

Frayne tried to raise his right arm to enable her to pull him up, but found that limb utterly un-responsive.  He frowned, and glanced down at his shoulder, seeing a mess of burned flesh and blood.  “Ah,” Was all he managed by way of comment.

Grey took his left arm instead, pulled him to his feet, and gave him not a second glance as she turned to what she deemed more important matters.  “How are you coming with the door, Corporal?”  The Ensign asked the third member of the team.

“Just a few seconds more, ma’am!” Tiny Corporal Elsek answered quickly.  She was tinkering with the lock on the security room door, and Argolo stared in horror at her activities.

“You mean to attack their C&C?” He asked Ensign Grey, openly scared by the prospect.  “However many people they have in there, surely it’s too much for us to handle alone?”

Grey did not answer.  Instead, she drew a grenade and moved to Elsek’s side to help out.

-----

“Steady men, steady!” Called Varys to the dozen or so personnel in the main Security Command and Control Centre.  His men, mostly data-analysts and techs, but a few Stormtroopers too, all crouched behind computers consoles or other cover, guns aimed at the doors.  Any second now, the three VENI agents outside would come through, and would be cut down almost instantly in a hail of fire.

Any second now.

He waited.  A minute passed.  Then two.  The tension in the C&C was thick, everyone was ready to pounce.  Expecting a grenade or something first, they were all well back from the door, watching it warily for the attack that they knew was imminent.

A third minute passed.  One hundred eighty seconds since the firing outside that told of their attack.  For VENI agents that was a long time indeed.  Could they really be having that much trouble with the door lock?

Eventually Varys’s curiosity got the better of him.  “Sacris!” Called to the Stormtrooper nearest the entrance.  “Check the door.  But be careful.”

A nod of acknowledged, and the white-armoured warrior rose and stalked past the computer terminals to the entrance.  Carefully, he released one of his two hands on his rifle and tapped the door release, jumping back as he did so.

The doors opened, revealing an empty corridor.

Varys frowned.  “Where are they?” He asked aloud.  “Find them!” He snapped, gesturing for Sacris and another to go out into the corridor to check.

The Stormtroopers moved out slowly, carefully, and advanced down the corridor.  As they reached the T-junction at the end, they stopped a looked about.  And that was when they heard the bleep of a proximity motion detector.

The trap laid went off, and the grenade detonated.  The two white-armoured soldiers had no chance of survival as they were caught in the blast, and Varys watched from afar as he lost two more to the cursed Vast Empire infiltrators.

And yet, even with their trap sprung, the three attackers did not emerge.  Where were they?

-----

“So it was never your plan to enter the C&C at all?” Asked Frayne, still trying to figure out Grey’s plan as they ran onwards through the Bloodmoon facility.

“I figure they wasted a lot of time waiting for an attack that never came,” Said Grey.  “Time that we can now use.”

They ran on, passed another surveillance camera.  Argolo noticed that neither Grey nor Elsek made a move to take it out.  Suddenly he understood!

“You uploaded another virus!” The scientist realised.

Grey nodded.  “Exactly.  While they were all watching the door, none would have been monitoring their computers.  Elsek uploaded a new virus.  Pretty simple really, it just loops the cameras, showing images of empty corridors.”

“And when they don’t see us in the cameras that are active,” Frayne noted, “They will assume that we are still in the area where we’ve already shot out all the cameras.”

“You catch on quick, doctor,” Said the Ensign with a note of approval in her voice.  “However, this trick won’t last long.  As soon as one of their people fail to show up on a camera they will realise they have been duped.  That gives us a narrow window of time in which to act as we wish.”

“The labs?” Asked Argolo.

“The labs,” The lead VENI agent confirmed.

OOC:

1467 words.  Closing in on the goal now!

After Action Report:  Ensign Grey and her team attack the Security Centre of the Bloodmoon, but only to cause a distraction.  While the occupants of the Centre prepare to repel an attack that never comes, Corporal Elsek slyly disables the base’s security cameras.  The Dominion personnel will soon realise they have been tricked, so now Grey and her people hurry towards the base’s labs, and the true goal of their mission.

A warehouse on Tilsec Prime
The Tilsec System
The Imperial Dominion

“We have to kill Karstok,” Mottl Barristan said, his expression grave.  Heads nodded around the table, as the other conspirators echoed the sentiment.

Premier Zaqarian shared their feelings, but he also knew the realities of the situation much better than most: the Governor-General was a formidable, well-protected man under normal circumstances, and since the loss of the Imperial Dominion’s invasion fleet weeks before, Karstok had increased his personal security precautions tenfold.  His palace was a fortress, and he still commanded the absolute loyalty of the military’s officer corps.  His cunning and ruthlessness were legendary; it was a miracle he hadn’t yet discovered the existence of The Resistance.

“My friends,” Zaqarian said, holding up his hands until all eyes were on him, “it isn’t that simple.  Killing the Governor-General would be nearly impossible, and even if we could do such a thing, I’m not entirely sure it would be the best thing for the Dominion’s people.  Personally, I can think of nothing I’d like to see more than that man dead, but the Vast Imperials are out there, coming for Tilsec Prime… the military needs a leader, now more than ever.”

The conspirators were a diverse group.  The Resistance movement was made up of university professors, big business leaders, and prominent citizens of all stripes.  But besides Premier Zaqarian himself, the man whose opinion was the most widely respected by the others was Mottl Barristan, the outspoken labor rights activist and frequently-imprisoned philosopher, who had won many admirers with his autobiographical writings about non-violent resistance of conscience in the face of totalitarianism.  Which only made his words more powerful, when he said again, “We have to kill him.”

Barristan looked around the table at the other conspirators, and shook his head sadly before continuing.  “Most of you have read my words, and I like to think that in these past few weeks, we have grown to know one another intimately indeed.  You know that I abhor violence, from a moral and practical standpoint.  But I say to you now that Vasilov Karstok is the single greatest threat to the people of the Dominion, and I can see no other way to offer us any hope of freedom other than to eliminate him... immediately.”

Again, heads nodded.  Zaqarian was astonished at the level of consensus being displayed.  The Resistance was a tenuous alliance of disparate groups, united only by their discontent with the current regime.  Getting those groups to agree on anything was… challenging.  “Even if that’s true,” the Premier said softly, “which I’m not convinced it is, how do we do it?”

The question hung in the air.  The conspirators shuffled their feet.  Mottl Barristan held his silence, and looked sad.

In his head, Donnel Zaqarian asked again: How do we kill Governor-General Karstok?

***

Bridge of the Vast Empire’s Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Adjudicator
The Bloodmoon System
The Imperial Dominion

“It looks like they’re withdrawing, sir,” Michele “Ellesmere” Blondeau said, turning over her shoulder to flash a surprised look at her commanding officer, Commander Wyl “Trick” Trykon.

Trykon quirked an eyebrow, and turned his attention to the tactical hologram of the battle.  Sure enough, the Dominion fleet was beginning to reform.  Their ships were coalescing into a formation that would be mutually-reinforcing, allowing them to protect each other more effectively, and they had started to move slowly away from the moon’s mass signature, no doubt preparing to escape to hyperspace.  “I see it, Ms. Blondeau,” Trykon assured his Second Officer.  “Send out a bulletin to all our people, to make sure they see it, too.  If they stay together – which they seem to want to do – they’ll be in position to jump away in how long?”

“Just over thirteen minutes, sir, if they keep their fleet together and withdraw in order,” Ellie responded promptly, having already crunched the numbers at her station.

“And if they don’t, it means some will escape sooner, but the rest will be destroyed,” Trykon murmured to himself.  He could hope that the Dominion ships would panic and scatter, but based on their performance so far during the battle, it wasn’t very likely.

Okay, he thought to himself.  The endgame has begun.  The Battle of Bloodmoon looked like it was going to be a victory for the Vast Empire, but the next few minutes would determine the course of history.  Best case scenario, Dominion resistance could be crushed, and the war all but won.  Worst case, the cost of taking Bloodmoon could be so high that the Vast Imperial thrust would be blunted, or perhaps stopped cold.  And that was before Trykon thought of the weapons lab on the surface of the moon… “Here’s hoping,” he whispered to himself, staring at the image of the moon slowly rotating in the center of the tactical hologram.

OOC:

811 words.  Quickie post, but important.

AAR: On Tilsec Prime, Premier Zaqarian and other civilian leaders plot to kill Karstok.  It's unclear how The Resistance movement can pull off such a daring idea, and uncertain what such plans would mean for the VE (since the coalition of interest groups are divided in their opinion of the VE).  Meanwhile, the Battle of Bloodmoon is drawing to a close.  The Dominion forces have done as much as they can: their mission was to buy time for the weapons lab folks, and they've done their best.  Most important, for them, is preserving the meager fleet strength they have left, so they are preparing to jump away to the Sollamens Asteroids, where they have a reinforced strong point waiting to repel the VEN.

Orders: Fight!!!  Every ship we stop here at Bloodmoon is one we won't have to face in the hellscape that awaits us in the Sollamens (which will be the main setting of Counterpunch: Death).  The PHAB Comp is done in about a week: I'll go ahead and call that the projected end of Counterpunch: War.  Post to this story, often and well, for OOC shinies and IC self-preservation!    And in about a week we'll wrap this one up, accommodate transfer requests and reconcile IC PC status with OOC status (like retirements and the like), and recognize the truly awesome contributions you all have made with awards and promos.