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Topic:  Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 3, 2013 7:13:36 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:

The Discussion page for this story can be found here


A Naval armada was akin to a living thing.  It gets born, it grows up, and finally it has to face challenges in order to survive.  Like a living thing it can be damaged, it can suffer wounds, but it can also heal said wounds and grow yet stronger still.

The Vast Empire’s Corellia assault armada was no different.  During the Battle of Absit the force had lost a few ships, and plenty others had been damaged.  And yet such wounds had proven temporary.  As payment for the VE’s defence of their docks, the people of Absit had provided repairs and even replacement vessels, and in just a matter of days the armada was ready to go once again.

The Second Fleet led the way as the warships of the Vast Empire Navy disentangled themselves from the docks of Nusiuu Facility and began to coalesce at the jump point beyond the nearby mine field.  At the head of that fleet was its new flagship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Paragon, from which the new Chief of Naval Warfare observed the gathering.

Stood at the front of the spacious bridge, Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail watched the Second Fleet getting into position, followed by the Fourteenth Fleet.  The bulk of the latter was comprised of all-important troop carriers and their Army contents.  Their presence made him feel ill at ease, and while he loathed the prospect of attacking an enemy while simultaneously protecting vulnerable elements of his own force, he knew that it was necessary.  Without the troops in those transports this whole invasion would be a lost cause.

Invasion.  The very word had such impact and gravitas.  Zail mulled it over in his mind, reflecting on what they were about to do.  Corellia was a prize beyond just one world, it was a system of fully five habitable planets, with populations and industry that could elevate the Vast Empire overnight into a true galactic player.  Serpent’s fear at participating in such a campaign was matched only by his excitement.

Turning his eyes from the Second and Fourteenth Fleets, he saw a separate element moving into jump position.  This smaller force was the Third Fleet, a recent addition to the armada and one that Zail was quite curious about.  Officially the Third Fleet was for skirmishing and raiding, though he suspected something more.

Heading the detachment was the Adjudicator, vessel of the Chief of Naval Operations, Rear-Admiral Wyl Trykon.  Trick was a man of such ability and influence that it was assured that whatever his plans for the fleet were they would be special indeed.  Adding to Serpent’s curiosity was the presence of the ship Unchained, commanded by Seth Qorbin.  Zail knew Seth too, the two having been in VENI together.  Serpent had since left Intelligence, but Qorbin had not, and the idea of such a dangerous operative with his own capital ship and in a brand new ill-defined fleet was... interesting.  With two such people to give character to the Third Fleet it certainly warranted keeping an eye on.

Saying that, Zail had enough issues to focus on without worrying about the Third Fleet.  He had only just taken command of the Paragon and had not had time for so much as a shakedown cruise.  He had moved over his old bridge crew from the Brilliant, including his trusted XO, Eylana Saitroni.  Aside from them, he had filled out the roster of the Paragon with the up-and-coming crewmen of the Second Fleet.  Notable among them was skilled physician Tosth ‘Fishhead’ Aaaiser, who Serpent hoped would give his ornery chief medic, Dr Padrin Praan, a run for his money.  There was also the sharp-eyed new gunner, Ross Jormund, fresh from the Academy and eager to prove himself.

Amid all the crew transfers there was also the arrival of Joint Forces Command, who had moved to the new flagship from the Adjudicator.  Joint Forces Command, they who were to lead the invasion, occupied a special place somewhere between observers and overseers, and Zail was not sure how he felt about having them on board.  At least for now they had the sense to stay off his bridge.

On top of the chaos of getting his new Star Destroyer in order, there were also the larger concerns of the Second Fleet.  As the new Chief of Naval Warfare the fleet was Serpent’s to command, and he would have felt more confident in that were there not a higher ranking officer elsewhere in the fleet, namely Dracule ‘Drac’ Mihawk.

Zail had served under Drac on the ISD Halcyon Warrior in the past, and seeing the return of it and its Captain was most welcome.  Drac had taken the role of Fleet XO and commander of the Second Fleet’s Taskforce Besh (while Zail headed Taskforce Aurek).  Serpent kept telling himself how good it was to have such an experienced officer in the fleet, but deep down he was nervous.  Drac was a legend, and Serpent wondered if his presence overshadowed Zail’s in the eyes of the other captains?  It was a disturbingly likely possibility.

He tried to keep such thoughts from his mind.  Serpent forced himself to focus instead on what a glorious time this would be, the victories that he and the Paragon were about to embark upon.  Victories made much more likely, he knew, by the presence of the famed 101st Fighter Wing, aka Blade Wing, on board.

On his previous ship, the Brilliant, Zail had enjoyed having competent, even gifted pilots at his beck and call, but even they were not on par with Blade Wing.  Many of them he had met, or at the very least heard of, and they were skilled indeed.  Makenna ‘Avalar’ Aleshire, Tzism Ramzis, Maroycae’li, Einarr ‘Norsedragoon’ Ghylthir, Grent ‘Gurlanin’ Notimo, Tycho ‘Ghastly’ Avan, Joamer Reistlin, Serpent’s old friend Demetrius ‘Hades’ Aita, and more.  They were either fine pilots or well on their way to being such.  And they were all Zail’s to command!

Yes, he had the finest ship, the finest crew, and the finest pilots.  The Corellians would not know what him them!

-----

The armada jumped to hyperspace, dozens of warships armed and prepared for war, headed straight for the galactic Core.  The time to arrival ticked by as the starlines of hyperspace shot past the bridge, and Serpent could feel the tension creeping up among those on the command deck.  They hid it well, but Zail could see the stress on the crew’s faces, and knew that it had little to do with the impending invasion, and everything to do with the prolonged uncertainty that was to come before it.

Serpent retired to his plush bridge office to sort through the countless administrative tasks that came with his new crew of 36,000 people.  The mounds of reports and reviews provided little respite from the tension of the trip, but the hours ticked by sure enough.  Eventually their time to arrival drew close, and the Alderaanian officer stepped once more out onto the command walkway.

Waiting for him at the front of the bridge was a short, slightly plump Zabrak with short horns and large eyes that seemed a little too far apart.  The strange fellow was dressed in a naval uniform, and sported a Commander’s insignia on his breast.  Zail and he were technically the same rank, but he knew that the Zabrak’s rank was more an honorary one than that of an actual officer, derived from pay-grade rather than authority.  Even if it was not, though, this was Serpent’s ship, and here Zail was most certainly the other’s superior.

“Commander Frith,” He greeted the other, “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Said Frith, large eyes full of excitement.  “And please, Doctor Frith is fine.”

“As you wish,” Zail said to the scientist, wondering at the other’s glee.  “I have read the report you prepared on the Corellian interdiction field and found it somewhat lacking.  What, exactly, do you expect us to encounter?”

The Zabrak shrugged.  “I know not, Captain Zail!” Said the other, seeming to revel in the uncertainty before them, perceiving it only as a mystery to unravel.  “Myself and my fellows at Naval R&D have been trying to figure out the power and scope of the Corellian field and are frankly at a loss.  I cannot wait until we conquer the system and have time to study the technology involved.”

“Uh-huh,” Murmured Serpent, noting how happily the scientist skipped over the actual act of conquest as if it were some minor bump in the road.  “Well, your first round of investigation shall be starting soon.  Helm!  Time to arrival?”

“Thirty seconds approximately, sir!” Came the reply from helmsman Ysanne Samasl.

“All hands, brace for impact!” Cried out Zail, the order instantly being relayed around the Paragon.  He had been wrenched from hyperspace by an interdictor once before and it had been jarring to say the least.  If the reports about Corellia were to be believed then this would be worse!

Bridge officers gripped their seats firmly, and Serpent himself grabbed the nearest railing so tight that his knuckles went white.  For a few moments nothing happened, and then it hit.

The panoply of hyperspace was torn apart and the Paragon was sent crashing back to realspace with enough force to knock Zail down.  Other crewmen fell from their stations as the whole Star Destroyer shook, the hull groaning in pain as inertial dampeners failed.  Alert klaxons blared and people cried out in pain as they crashed awkwardly against the deck.  Beyond the bridge viewport, Serpent could see stars but no planets, and the other warships of the armada also falling out of hyperspace close by.

Zail picked himself up and noticed instantly how the other ships were listing lazily, as if the force had thrown them back into realspace at unnatural angles.  Realising that the Paragon was also drifting, he called immediately, “Stabilising thrusters!  Now!”

A cut on her forehead did not deter Ysanne Samasl from climbing back to the helm position and quickly righting the massive warship, bringing it under control.  Serpent was pleased to note the vessels of the Second, Third and Fourteenth Fleets swiftly doing the same.  Thankfully there were no collisions.

“All hands, I want damage and injury reports!” He snapped at once, asserting control.  “And navigation, tell me where the frak we are!”

The junior bridge officer at the station consulted the star charts and gulped before answering.  He rattled off some numbers and Zail felt his face fall.

The Captain turned to the scientist at his side.  “It’s exactly as your worse case projections said, Doctor Frith,” Serpent said glumly.

The Zabrak nodded.  “Indeed.  The Corellian field extends a massive distance from the system.  With hyperspace denied to us, it will take a full month of sublight travel to reach our target.”

OOC:
1807 words.  And so it begins!

After Action Report:  Here is the disposition of our forces following the Battle of Absit:

Second Fleet:
Serpent, leading Taskforce Aurek from the Paragon
All Fleet Command players have been transferred to the Paragon
All Starfighter players have been transferred to the Paragon
Drac, leading Taskforce Besh from the Halycon Warrior

Third Fleet:
Trykon, Adjudicator
DeepSix, Unchained

Fourteenth Fleet:
NPC transport Fleet carrying the Army.

The above constitutes ‘The Armada’, which is currently headed for Corellia.  Alas, the Corellians have created an interdiction field that spans their entire system and a vast distance beyond it.  No one can use hyperdrive within this field.  So it is that the armada now faces a full one month of travel at sublight speeds to reach the outer worlds of the Corellian system.


Naval High Command
CNW|Commander Zail|NHC|VEN|VE

SCAP/CDR Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD Paragon /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][SoV][MiD][MC1][VC:E][CAR][CoB.][NC][CC:3][CNQST][PWC][2NS][LSM][WM0][AOx4][DSM](=*Eng*=)(=*BO*=)(=SWC=)
Hades
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Hades
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 3, 2013 7:56:35 PM    View the profile of Hades 
An ominous shudder trembled through the solid deck as if it were nothing more than a sheet of aluminium alloy, rippling and concerning Hades deeply as he sat at his desk with a datapad in hand. He slowly placed his caf down, gazing into it to see the ripples there too - and without further ado, he felt a sickening lurch that spilled his caf over the table and almost over the datapad as well, though Hades had been quick enough to snatch the latter from the watery death of the former. He growled, steadying himself on the desk and standing up, making a note to summon a cleaning droid later. "The frak is going on here," he murmured, moving out into the corridor. In the distance he could hear an alarm blaring, the lights flickered and went off for the briefest of seconds then suddenly, the alarm stopped and the lights flickered back on as if nothing had happened. But it had happened and Hades knew it had, he hadn't been daydreaming. He hit a key on his comm unit that was included in a small bracer, opening a channel to the bridge - Captain or not, Zail was still VENI and VENI agents had to have a way of keeping in contact.

"This is the XO," a woman's voice came across sharply, "identify yourself."

"No," Hades answered impertinently, "get me Commander Zail."

"Commander Zail is busy. Identify yourself," she re-stated, causing Hades to growl inaudibly.

"Authorisation code: N-1-1-3-0-8 mark twenty-three," Hades rattled off one of his VENI codes easily, pausing for a moment as the woman verified it, "now get me the Captain, please."

"Right away sir," she answered promptly, letting the line go quiet for a good few moments before she came back, "putting you through to his personal channel now."

"Thank you, Ensign," he murmured, though why she hadn't done that in the first place was something that would inevitably be the source of much deliberation by the Flight Leader over the next few days, perhaps even discontent if he lingered over-long on it.

"This is Commander Zail," a calm, Alderaanian voice answered brusquely, "what is it?"

"Sir, it's Hades," he identified himself, pausing before speaking again, "apologies for the unconventional means of contacting you, but I'm afraid your XO is too good at her job."

"Hades," Zail greeted, a hint of brusqueness gone from his tone, although he still sounded slightly frustrated, "I imagine you're wondering what that jolt was?"

"Yes sir," the green-eyed agent replied, going back into the unused office that he had appropriate, sealing the door behind him, "it felt like we were wrenched out of hyperspace."

"Weren't you listening to the ship-wide comm?" Zail asked irritably. Hades glanced up to the speaker in the corner of the room that, by chance, was sparking, "no matter. Yes, we were wrenched from hyperspace. We're at the edge of Centrepoint Station's effective range. Best estimates puts us in system in a month's time,"

"A month?" Hades whistled quietly, "confirmed. Thank you for your time, Commander."

"Yes, yes," Zail answered dismissively, "was there anything else?"

Demetrius did allow for a pause this time, nodding to himself, "Aye," he replied, "I mean it, old friend. Thank you for your time,"

There was a similar pause from the other end as the evidently frustrated Pherik Zail considered the response, "Anytime," he answered finally, "get your flight settled in, Commander. It's going to be a long ride."

"Aye aye, Captain," he replied, then the channel was dead. Lowering his wrist from near his mouth, Demetrius sighed softly. An entire month? That was a long time to be on a ship by any means, let alone on a ship waiting for combat. The build up to the battle would be almost lethal for morale in a lot of cases... For his part, he had to ensure Cresh were ready to go at all times and more, that they didn't become discontent. He may not have trusted Graff as a person, but he didn't want an unhappy, untrustworthy wingmate - those things were conjointly crippling, he knew. Vangelos might be an issue, but Mundi would be otherwise unfazed. Mundi always found something to do with himself - but there was the trouble, it was with himself and not anyone else, for instance his wingmate. He keyed another channel on his bracer, exiting the appropriated office and making a right turn toward the barracks, "Graff," he greeted before the other could speak, "where are you? Never mind that now. Assemble the rest of Cresh in simulator room one."

"Acknowledged, Commander."

--- --- ---

It didn't take Hades - or Cresh - long to get to the simulator bay. Graff and Vangelos were waiting for him when he arrived, suited up and ready, while Mundi arrived a few moments later in a great hurry, breathing heavily from the distance he had traveled to get here. An idle glance was shot Mundi's way, "What's happening?" Vangelos was the one who spoke, but the flight leader shot him a warning glare, "What's happening, sir?" he repeated, a mite more respectfully this time.

"We've been pulled out of hyperspace by the massive interdictor field around Corellia," he replied shortly, though took a breath and went on, "the best estimate puts our arrival time at a month from now. By the end of that month, I want Cresh - if not Jexxel entirely - to be so familiar with these simulators that they could fly them in their sleep. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" They answered in unison. A satisfied nod was given in reply as Hades started pacing.

"We have to be ready. Not just with our equipment, our physical fitness nor indeed our foreknowledge of what might await us," He shook his head and stopped pacing, "no, we need to be ready as a team. The four of us? It may well turn out that we are the only ones left out there and if that happens, we'll be the only thing each other has. We need to trust each other implicitly in the cockpit, and that takes practice... so no prizes for guessing what we're doing here."

"Practicing?" Vangelos ventured rhetorically with an undertone of sarcasm, though his small smirk disappeared as Hades stood face-to-face with the subordinate.

"Practicing," He answered coolly, "you know the drill. To your pods, gentlemen, and I'll see you in there."

Only when they had disappeared did he key his comm again, "Commander, I'm not sure when you will receive this. When you do, however, I'd urge you to begin running simulations like your life depended on it," it was MAkenna's channel, which she hadn't answered. He took a deep breath and glanced to his own simulation pod, designated Cresh 1 for this run, "chances are, it will depend on it."

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,156

AAR: Hades' POV when the interdiction hits. He uses a VENI 'backdoor code' to speak to Zail, whom sounds rather unimpressed that Hades had gone around the XO. After a conversation, Hades tries to smooth things over with his old friend and is partially successful, before then summoning his flight to the simulators to brief them and take them on a practice run.

Lieutenant Commander Demetrius 'Hades' Aita

FL | LCDR Hades | Silver 9 | S:46 "Jexxel" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

MS | LCDR Hades | LCR Duty | TF:T | ?Flt | VENA | VEN | VE

[*IG*][LoM] [DSM] [NSR] [VC:B] [VC:S] [MC:1] [MC:2] [CBV] [CAR] [MiD]
[HNS] [1NS] [BRC] [BWC] [SWC] [GWC] [CNQST] [CC:4]
[*SWC*] [*FOCE*] [^TG^]
Gurlanin
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 4, 2013 6:28:07 AM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
“Yes, sir, I understand, but with all due respect-..”
“If you understand, Chief, then you will know that there is nothing more I can do.”

Grent sighed. He had been having this holocall with Commander Zail for a long while now, trying to get a notion on what to prepare for in the upcoming fight. If there was a standard month before the battle, then that gave more time to prepare. Even as a new Squadron Commanding Officer, Grent knew that getting a call from the Captain of any ship was hardly ever a sign of good news.

“Aye, sir. The squadron aren’t going to like this. They had gotten fired up after our previous engagement.”
“Dissatisfaction is one of the last things I need aboard my ship. I know how important this is to you, and your squadron, which is why I am talking directly to you personally, rather than leaving a message on your desk.”
“I appreciate it, sir, but-..”
“... but you feel as though Command is still holding Strill back?” asked Zail.
Grent sighed again, and replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Chief, listen: I know what your squadron is capable of. That’s what matters. Command is still …” Zail picked his words carefully before continuing, “… unsure, on the matter of the 58th. They don’t want to tick off the Marines by letting you commence boarding action or the sort, and they don’t want to interfere with VENI’s operations by sending you to … well, you get the idea.”
“I do, sir,” said Grent, “And I know that we are pilots first, and commandos second. But these men and women have trained hard for fighting outside of the cockpit. Their training regime is far beyond that of any other squadron. How can that be let to go to waste?”
“Chief, there really is nothing more to say. I need you as pilots for this battle. That’s it.”

Grent watched as the holo turned off, and mumbled an “aye aye, sir” to the empty space. As he leaned back in his chair, he reflected on all that had happened since his promotion to the Squadron Commander. It was not as easy as it had seemed, even when he had seen the sheer mountain of files and documents that required his signature. It was all politics, at the top. Everything he wanted to do to improve the squadron always had something in the way. There were a few things Grent could change, to do with the inner workings of the squadron. The details of training programs were also up to him, but he had left that to Joamer, his Executive Officer. The man had done a good job before, before their positions were switched, and Grent remembered the old philosophy: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

The Mandalorian turned his attention to the file in the centre of his desk, and opened it. Inside were detailed personnel documents, all relating to one man. That man had only just arrived on board the Paragon, but Grent knew him. In fact, he was the reason for the other man’s application to the Navy.

The other man’s name was Tycho Avan, a former shockboxer from the heavily polluted, and crime ridden planet of Reuss VIII. Grent had gone there on his latest leave. Why he had gone there was still a mystery to anyone who knew. The few that asked were greeted with the answer of “to get some fresh air”. In truth, he had gone there to disappear off the grid for as long as he could, and meet an old contact in the process: a mechanic, of sorts, who had acquired the majority of the parts required to build the Hunter-Killer droid that stood in the Strill SCO office. Whilst there, Grent had gotten into a nasty bar brawl with some of the locals, after refusing to be shaken down for credits like a commoner. During this brawl, a local shockboxing champion came to the Mandalorian’s aid. Grent later returned the debt by saving the man’s life, and recruiting him into the Vast Empire’s Navy. He might have been more suited to Army life, but judging by the records Grent had been given, ‘Ghastly’ was prime for being a pilot, having scored highly in the Academy.

But now was not the time to reminisce. Now, Grent had to inform his pilots that all they would be doing was flying in the upcoming battle. There were to be no heroics. There were to be no commando behaviour. Just plain flying.

He was not looking forward to it.

OOC:
WC:766

AAR: A short 'setting the scene' type post for Strill. Grent has been informed by Zail that Strill are to be only pilots for the next battle. Gur also thinks about the newest member of their squadron.
SCO | SCPO Gurlanin | Iron One | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

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(=*TG*=)
{GrAt}{AFM}{Infl}{SFT}{Gunn}{Shut}{Slice}{0Gee}{XenMA}

TO|CPO Gurlanin|PLF "Cappadocious"|VENA|VEN|VE
Tzism
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 4, 2013 12:39:03 AM    View the profile of Tzism 
After receiving orders for the transfer to the Paragon, and upon arriving on the destroyer itself, Tzism made some time for himself to get acquainted with the ship itself as well as understanding what he was working with. At the time he was in his quarters, Tzism took a moment to get washed up, and drying himself off, found some imperial uniform, and got them pressed, and dried then put them on for use. He walked towards one of the mirrors in the bathroom facilities to get a close look at how he appeared before tidying his arrangement inside his quarters and proceeding outside onto the deck floor. He was feeling like it was time for some practice, simulator practice was the main purpose first and foremost. Walking through the hallway he could see other personnel walking alongside him, busy with there work, and keeping to themselves. He felt like talking to them, but also getting a better fit in the training simulators was the top priority. Arriving at the door of the room, Tzism pulled out his data key and slipped it inside the slot to open the door, the room was brightly lit on the other side of the coin the training pods were not the same in that they were dark inside and could simulate any kind of shuttle, ship or vehicle craft the pilot undertook to procure a mission detail before the actual mission was to take place.

Stepping next to one of the empty training pods, he pressed the top of the hatch to watch it open slowly before showing the inside. Tzism analyzed the inside for a bit before jumping in. After getting himself tidy, he pressed a few of the switches to allow the hatch to close and the room to be completely dark except for the computer that was in front of him. Pressing a few more switches the computer began to speak back, “Hello pilot, please designate operation perimeters and ship designation.” Tzism nodded then replied “Computer carry out a flight simulated operation including several battle ships, along with several tie and x-wing components. Make the difficulty at medium for now, later on increase it a few notches. My ship of choice will be a tie interceptor. Proceed with order.” Tzism replied, then watched as the room went from completely black to illuminating a battlefield with several battles concurrent with the objective. Grabbing the joystick with his hand he began to move the ship as it made its sounds of the fighter moving through space. There was a whish and zoom noise heard in the background, while on the other side, he could hear explosions simulated by the computer.

Joining his compatriots, Tzism watched as his fighter compliment was in ship shape. They were moving with timeless coordination. Some of the fighters motioned for attack posture while others performed scans for hostile activity. For Tzism, his fighter was performing scans, watching as the green dots appeared on his target screen, then the red ones would appear as the hostile targets. Motioning to his flight lead and squadron commanders, he requested that his group proceed toward the targets. The flight lead nodded but was also cautious so gave the request to the squadron commander to approve. Moments later there was silence in communication, but a few minutes later the commander agreed and allowed for attack posture. Tzism followed with the group while maintaining speed, and balance between the other fighters. The group was moving through space in a coordinated attack allowing them to be like a swarm of bees. The hissing from the tie's were heard in the background, and there was many pilots anxious to fire there laser cannons. A few minutes passed by before the hostile targets took notice and grouped themselves to provide defense.

Tzism received the order to attack, like the other fighters had, watching and waiting, he saw some of the hostiles break formation. Just like that, Tzism fired some the first shots from the tie interceptor, they flashed through space afterward knocking one of the targets to the side, giving them a good jolt and some of there shielding was taken down, leaving the other allied tie's to complete the work and obliterate the enemy, sending a shock wave in space. It was now a heated exchange of firepower, tie and x-wing alike were chasing after one another. Tzism had kept his eye on the target screen before noticing he was being chased by a hostile. Grabbing his joystick he pushed it to the side allowing for the tie interceptor to do a quick three hundred and sixty degree spin, the hostile passed Tzism, but now Tzism was aiming his target reticule at the x-wing. Laughing he replied “Man do these pilots not know how to fly or what” Pressing on the joystick firing switch, there launched a few laser shots from his tie interceptor, sending the fire straight at the x-wing. The fighter was jolted but not long after destroyed. Tzism replied to himself “That is one down, about one hundred or more to go” The x-wing pilots were more on the defensive rather than the attack posture that the tie fighter group had on them. Several of the fighters were continuing the chase while some remained in tight formation to study the other side. Tzism watched his targeting screen for a moment before regrouping with the formation. Keeping his flight steady he watched as some other tie's picked off there hostile targets.

To Tzism this was fun and exhilarating. The speed and versatility of the tie fighter was matched to that of the x-wing. Although they weren’t heavily equipped with shielding, the thing that outmatched the x-wing targets was the weapon carry out and the ability to move through space quickly. While remaining in big tie groups was a menace to a group of x-wings. Tzism was interested in studying the hostiles, as well as understanding the computer's motives. Sometimes the battle was different in that it wasn't always performing in real life scenario and allowed for some quick reaction by the pilot itself. He was interested in this and kept an eye on the enemy.

OOC:
WC: 1036

AAR: Part 1 of the simulated attack mission on xwing and battleship targets, Tzism would allow himself time to understand an enemy motive and gain knowledge on how to perform in real battle
FM | SCRW Tzism | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [MC2][MiD][SoA]
DeepSix
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 4, 2013 3:13:48 PM    View the profile of DeepSix 
Amongst the very first lessons that VENA trainers taught the eager cadets were "Don't crash this expensive piece of equipment", "Don't go flying straight into a missile or laser bolt", "Don't smash against allied military installations, ships, other fighters or asteroids". After a couple dozen such rules came the most important one of them all though: "In general, don't do anything stupid whilst flying for the Navy".

Seth Qorbin ended up remembering those nostalgic anecdotes even as he found himself flying across the bridge, an opportunity with which he realized two more things: 1. Humans were really not designed for flight and 2. something went terribly, terribly wrong with their hyperspace journey...

Unlike most other members found on the Carrack-class cruiser's bridge, Qorbin managed to actually land on his feet - a somewhat impressive feat of its own given the awkward position from which he found himself contending against the ship's mercilessly cut off momentum.

"Everyone still alive?" the blond Captain inquired after taking a look around and trying to determine exactly what went wrong and just how much so as well. His question was at first answered by moans, groans and an impressive array of swear words ranging from Basic to Durese to Sullustese to Huttese to a few others that Seth couldn't readily distinguish. Only afterwards came the more official sounding confirmations.

"Adjudicator's stern!" Reeza Hayek shrieked a tad louder than the others and Seth turned to face her - rather intrigued as to the origin of this original sounding curse. "Pull up! Or down or any other direction", Qorbin shouted after taking in the sight from the other side of the viewport: a few escorts and the huge ISD-II only a short distance straight ahead... and the Unchained was on a collision course with the latter's humongous engines.

For the second time in his career Seth Qorbin felt somewhat useless, the knowledge of having no power to change things really eating away at his consciousness. Were he in the cockpit of a fast and agile fighter, he would've easily skimmed the larger ship's surface and effortlessly avoided any danger of collision. On the 350m long ship however the Commander no longer had that luxury though. On the medium sized vessel DeepSix was forced to rely on others as well, and in this particular case these were Reeza Hayek, the ship's main pilot and Tyrann Norran, her copilot.

To her credit, the ship's pilot managed to skillfully - almost elegantly so - avoid the other ships and pull up above and eventually beside the Adjudicator. "Right so... what just happened?" Qorbin asked once they were finally in the clear. "We seem to have been pulled out of hyperspace", the ship's XO calmly intoned the rather obvious answer.

"Sensors?" Seth asked Gann Tryhek, the man in charge of the Primary shift's sensors. "No enemy ships, sir. Also no planets, moons, stars or other celestial bodies. Electromagnetic readings... also detect no black hole in the immediate vicinity."

"Any other explanation?" the Captain asked dubiously. As far as he knew those were indeed the main causes that could cause a hyperjump failure... aside from the more obvious issues that may plague the ship's hyperdrive unit. Seeing how the rest of the fleet was also plucked from hyperspace though, that meant that either this wasn't a mechanical failure... or that it was the result of some major sabotaging effort. Given the scale however that felt even less likely though.

"Captain, Fleet wide message from the Paragon", Karlena Noron announced and the entire Bridge grew silent in expectation. Seth watched the woman press the same combination of buttons a few times before she turned and with an apologetic expression on her face further announced that she was unable to patch it through. "Assuming inner ship communications are still functional, ask some techs to verify and fix this issue. Come to think of it ask for a ship wide sitrep too while you're at it..." Qorbin replied in a neutral tone, not happy that his new ship wasn't working 100% the way it was supposed to but obviously not feeling too distraught about it either.

Hell of a start for such a large scale operation... the man mused to himself but was smart enough not to share that opinion with the other members of the crew.

OOC:
WC: 722
AAR: Intro post. First of a short series meant to introduce some of the NPCs and the initial interaction between/with them.
SCAP/CDR Seth DeepSix Qorbin/Carrack Unchained/TF:A/3Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[=*TG*=] [=*VIM*=] [=*SWC*=] [=NDr=]

CNT/CDR Seth DeepSix Qorbin/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

TRN/AD Seth DeepSix Qorbin/DJO/Training Sect/VEDJ
Tzism
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 7, 2013 1:02:54 AM    View the profile of Tzism 
The simulated battle continued, there was explosions on both sides either it be the allied forces or the enemy. Tzism staying in formation with his group watched, as well as kept his eyes peered on the scanner for hostile activity. Some of the frigates and heavy destroyers on the enemy side decided to give the allied forces a understanding of why they were present. The first of them a capital ship, primed it laser cannons, and fired a heaping full of shots towards the other destroyers on the other side. There was some heavy tensions ensuing in the battle, and Tzism needed to stay on guard. Massive bombardments of fire could be heard outside his tie interceptor, simulated ones. The pilots of both allied, and enemy alike needed a chance to understand each other. Tzism took the moment to follow the group of ties on there way to encounter the enemy x-wing group. It was good that they were able to take down some enemy fighters, but there was also a sizable amount still remaining to be dealt with. And there was no mercy to that notion as well, the enemy x-wing and ship component groups were evenly matched to that of the vast empire navy's capability in firepower and strength, this was merely a chess game as it were, who would play the better position.

Looking over at the comm channel, Tzism heard voices from both the allied and enemy forces alike “Pilot get your head out of the gutter, make sure you keep that x-wing on your six, they are going to pull all sorts of moves, and you could get killed, I should recommend a reprimand to command for this insubordination, but if you prove well in battle I will reconsider that offer.” on the enemy comms Tzism heard differently “the vast empire has no chance against the rebel might, we will take down there imperial scum before they have a change in thought, these pilots of there's only perform with there orders as we do differently, we actually have brains and brawn. If you notice an enemy pilot that sub verges from there designation point, then I would conclude there brains are in tact. Keep your eyes open, and your weapons charged, that is all” Tzism laughed a little then responded to the computer “believe it or not imperial pilots do well against the Rebel adversaries, its quite the opposite for them, we just go through constant ridicule on both sides.” the computer took a moment to understand his response then replied “Sir, I am not able to make an accurate response as I am not a physical embodiment or take human shape or form, I can determine certain wave patterns as well as study the movements of the enemy, however I cannot say how one would react in real life, I merely take orders as supplied by your military department. Shall I continue our simulation” the computer replied to Tzism, “Why yes, keep going, just thought it was interesting, wanted to see what you might think about this endeavor”

The simulation was again put in motion. Tzism with his group flew through space as well as analyzed the enemy targets, and weapons reticules on standby were ready to fire, and destroy any targets deemed hostile. The movement through the groups was in unison, and at the same time, were each coordinating efficiently. Noticing some of the x-wing groups proceed there direction, Tzism grabbed onto the joystick and got his fingers near the firing switch, ready to fire, but also staying vigilant. The x-wings were going slow, none of them broke formation, these ones however were bearing marks on the ship itself and were not close to any rebel marking. Tzism thought to himself, “Are these pirate markings or are they special forces sent to do the rebel dirty work, never mind, the battle is on the rebels, we must destroy them at all costs” his tie interceptor moved with the group of other ties, however this time the group of x-wings with the markings decided to fire but with a different approach, the first of them shot a couple shield displacement beams there way, sending some of the ties into disarray. Tzism got to work quickly noticing his group how now been displaced. Some of the ties were being followed while the others had gotten back into formation. The ones who were being followed had moments to respond before the x-wings made easy fodder of them. Tzism was angry at these x-wing marked group, he motioned to the command of his group to stay in formation and apply warning shots to the enemy group.

This turned out to be a good move, the laser shots from the tie interceptor group caught the x-wings off guard. They pulled back but only momentarily, there group leader studied there attempt of the tie group then motioned for his group to pull into formation again to attack head on. This was not a time to let ego or might get the better of him, Tzism thought, more of quick thinking as well as smart tactician work would win this battle. Staying steady in formation, the group of tie interceptors flew through space a bit more before sending a barrage of laser shots towards the x-wing group. Several of them were blown into pieces, with others moving fast to evade warning shots. Tzism had kept an eye on the group leader but at the same time he was keeping with the group waiting for another time to strike. Noticing on the side, the enemy x-wing group decided to pull back for another run, this time it was like they had cloak on there ships, they simply disappeared from the battle, Tzism replied to the tie group lead “Those are not rebel ships, or they got new technology, I hope that is not the case for the other enemy groups” the group lead replied back “I will have our pilots scan for other x-wing incursions, remain steady pilot and eyes peeled, your indication is noted, and appreciated, follow with scans, and stay at the ready”

OOC:
WC: 1032

AAR: part 2 of the simulated training exercise aboard the Paragon, with Tzism in the simulator room practicing his tie fighter skills and understand an enemy motive, as well getting a hold of how to respond and become versatile in the pilot seat
FM | SCRW Tzism | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [MC2][MiD][SoA]
Drac
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 7, 2013 2:42:29 AM    View the profile of Drac 
The siren signalling all hands to battle stations warbled through the air as Captain Mihawk settled himself into his command chair. Many among the crew didn't understand why he'd issued the order but supposed it might be one of the short notice drills that he'd become notorious for since the Battle of Absit. Though there were grumbles, most of the crew understood that the training drills would be essential to keeping their ship and lives intact in the battles to come and rode out the inconvenience with good humor.

This time, however, it wasn't necessarily a drill. Before the jump Drac had met with Serpent in order to get familiarized with his new commander's plans for the arrival stage of the invasion. As part of that discussion Serpent had mentioned the likelihood that Centerpoint Station's effects might force the fleet out of hyperspace early and had even given a general idea of when he thought it might happen- thus the order for battle stations. Drac figured that was safest for the crew- the medical staff would be in position and waiting were the jolt of impacting the gravity field to cause any injuries. Plus it would minimize the number of people standing or moving about at the moment of reversion. As a special precaution for such instances, he’d long ago had crash harnesses installed in his pilots’ seats so that such reversions wouldn’t interrupt their efforts.

Staring out at the whirling bands of light that formed visible hyperspace, Drac mused on his current situation. It was relatively unique in his experience. There had been others of high rank that weren’t in the direct line of command over the years, but almost always in advisory capacities rather than combat roles. Thus his current position as Fleet XO to Commander Serpent was something rarely seen. It had the potential to cause problems, he knew, but he had no intention of causing them himself. It was only natural that there be consequences for his absence from the fleet. Trick’s and Serpent’s ascendancy was perfectly natural and reasonable- and what’s more, they were well suited to their roles. There were no openings or weak points in the Naval High Council right now, and that was just fine with Drac. He’d serve where and how he could, as he always had.

That said, he could not afford to ignore the impact his presence was having and would continue to have in the fleet. Many of the ship captains and officers currently serving had served under Drac himself during his tenure as Chief of Naval Warfare and later as Chief of Naval Operations. Given that and given the fact that he still held rank above Serpent’s own, it was inevitable that some officers were going to take issue with Serpent or attempt to follow Drac’s lead above Serpent’s orders. It gave Drac a not inconsiderable amount of political power within the fleet, he realized, whether he wanted it or not. And he didn’t- he’d always detested politicking within the military itself and wasn’t about to change that now.

Still, it called for him to examine his actions and their consequences before running off in his own direction as he was wont to do. It was one thing to buck Stormz’s orders at the Battle of Absit where he was effectively outside the normal chain of command. It would be something entirely different if he hared off in his own direction while serving as executive officer of the fleet. Pulling a stunt similar to his unauthorized charge at Absit would very directly undermine Serpent’s authority as commander of the fleet and could result in a schism in the ranks that the VE could not afford. Such an internal conflict on the eve of an invasion – or worse, once it was underway – could doom the entire effort and seriously harm the Vast Empire as a whole. He absolutely must not allow that to happen. Unfortunately, he knew full well that there might be elements within the fleet that would make that difficult. It might not be enough to simply cause no conflict himself. In all likelihood he would also have to actively assist Serpent in maintaining the stability and cohesiveness of the fleet.

~~~~~

His new executive officer was in the act of approaching to report what Drac already knew -that all hands were at battle stations- when the expected jolt hit. Much of the crew had already experienced the jarring result of an involuntary reversion to realspace in the recent battle, and given his tactics Drac had experienced it himself many times. However, this time wasn’t quite like the others. This wasn’t a planetary gravity well or a simple ship-based interdictor field. The field put out by the Centerpoint station was something else altogether- something noticeably stronger.

If previous gravity field reversions had caused the Warrior to shudder, this one nearly seemed to bring her to a crashing halt. Drac heard his XO, a female Twi’lek by the name of Lyna’tri, let slip a quick shriek of surprise as they were jerked forward. For his part Drac took advantage of the fact that he’d been seated and leaned back while straightening his legs. Twisting slightly, he let his weight come down on one buttock first as he laid out into an impact diffusing slide. The slightly textured deck plating wasn’t a perfect surface for sliding on, but it sufficed for his purpose. Drac slid for perhaps half a meter before coming to a stop, noted that he'd have bruises, and then promptly stood and assessed the condition of his bridge crew, “Everyone! Report your status!”

Much like on the other ships, a chorus of curses in various languages was the primary response he got. He knelt and gave Lyna a hand up from where she lay beside him. The green-skinned twi’lek’s headtails were thrashing violently with her species’ own imprecations and she held one sharp-nailed hand to her face in an attempt to stem the flow of blood from her nose. She pulled a piece of cloth from a pocket after a moment and pressed it to her face, nodding her thanks, and Drac looked up to examine the rest of the bridge. Ensign Gaian was nursing a bruised eye that was already swelling and blackening and a few other officers sported various scrapes and bruises but there were no serious injuries. The Mon Calamari was gratified to see his pilots calmly continuing their work, held secure by their crash harnesses. Out the viewport he could see other ships of the armada drifting at various trajectories or beginning to correct. He watched with concern as the Unchained barely avoided a nasty collision with the Adjudicator’s stern, then nodded as the Carrack-class ship managed to pull up alongside the ImpStar Deuce instead.

Turning back to his command chair, Drac resumed his seat and triggered the built in communication unit, “Medical staff, this is Captain Mihawk. Please spread first aid personnel throughout the ship according to contingency plan Cresh. Gather a summary of all injuries that occurred as a result of our reversion to realspace and forward the report to me.”

After receiving confirmation from the medical dispatcher Drac turned to address his Flight Control Officer and Wing Commander of the ship’s newly arrived starfighter complement, “Lieutenant, please alert the hangar staff to prep my E-wing for departure.”

The man nodded, “Aye, Captain. We should have her ready in about twenty standard minutes.”

Lieutenant Lyna stepped up beside him, rag stilled pressed to her nose, “Captain, may I ask why?”

“We’re still very far out from the Corellian system, Lieutenant. And a lot of our ships likely weren’t yet at battle stations when we hit the gravity field. I’d imagine there are a lot of unhappy ship captains that Commander Serpent will need to appease and many adjustments to make to plans. All that is best done in person.”

“Very well, sir. We should have things in hand quickly here.”

“Thank you. The bridge is yours, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, Captain.”

OOC:
Word Count: 1337

AAR: Drac and his crew man battle stations and react to the abrupt return to realspace. Drac muses over the impact of his presence in the fleet and how he’ll need to go about his duties in order to maintain the stability of the fleet and support Serpent’s authority. He orders medical staff to attend the injured and arranges for his E-wing to be prepped in preparation to attend the face-to-face meeting of SCAPs he anticipates Serpent hosting aboard the Paragon
TFC/CAPT Drac/ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE
Captain of the ISD II Halcyon Warrior
[SoA][MC1][MC2x2][NSR1][NT1][SoV][CBV][SoL][SWC][NSR][GCR][GWC][*AO*](=*A*=)(=*SA*=)
"Think Ackbar, but Imperial."

TRN/INI Drac/VEDJ
[This message has been edited by Drac (edited November 7, 2013 2:54:13 PM)]
Zena
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 7, 2013 11:46:49 PM    View the profile of Zena 
Leading Crewman Zena had been absorbed, like many other recruits, into the new Imperial II class star destroyer, Paragon. The young Farghul was a new helmsman under the chief Helmsman, Petty Officer 2nd Class Ysanne Samasl. Zena wasn't new to the idea of the ship as she had lived most of her life on one so she was easily accepting of the ship. The only part Zena didn't like was the Uniform it was tight on her fur and she had to constantly tear a hole in the trousers to get her tail loose.

Zena walked onto the bridge her tail wrapped gently around her like a tawny colored belt. She quickly found the helmsman chief and went directly to her.

"Leading crewman Zena reporting." Zena sad as she snapped into a salute.

"Hello Crewman Zena, today I want you on that monitor over there. Dismissed." The Petty Officer said.

Zena nodded and took to her orders quickly as she waked quickly to the monitor. She sat softly into the chair and began studying the display on the screen. Zena's ears flexed as she picked up the captain's words but all she heard was brace for impact. At once she grabbed the chair she sat in. She let her tail loose and wrapped it around an arm as an extra brace. The ship erupted from hyper space and with it's end, the whole world around Zena shook. The ship shook from tip to engines and a few  of the men and women aboard the ship were thrown to the floor. Zena was among them although her impact wasn't as hard since she had braced herself. Zena looked up her ember eyes locked on the viewport as the ships of the three adjacent fleets slowly drifted about.

"Stabilizing thrusters! Now!" Serpent ordered. Without delay Zena watched as the helmsman chief rose and hit the thrusters. Zena looked about at her fellow helmsman looking at what had been done to those who had fell. She could see a few gashes and some were bleeding slightly but nothing very serious as far as Zena could tell. Zena walked to the chief who stood catching her breath since it had been knocked out of her during her fall. Zena looked at the chief helmsman. She now noticed the small cut on her forehead.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Zena asked not really knowing what to do next.

"I'll be fine Crewman, See if you can help some of the others." Said the Petty Officer.

"Yes, Sir." Zena replied as she spun on her heels and began walking about until she found one of the other helmsman unconscious.

Zena looked around noticing a few medical staff moving about the helmsmen.

"I got one unconscious over here." Zena said hoping to catch one of the medics.

She got one's attention who had just checked on her fellow Leading Crewman Stefen Stralzback. The medic came over and inspected the unconscious helmsman.

"He's stable but we might want to get him out of this so another Helmsman can take over his position." said the medic as he signaled another medic to help move him.

Zena nodded as she returned to looking about the Crew pit for anyone else she could help out or alert the medic too. Zena found none so she returned to the monitor and sat in the seat. Her tail wrapped gently around her waist as she pulled the collar of her uniform slightly trying to loosen it sightly around her neck.

OOC:
WC:582

AAC: A simple introductory post to introduce my character into the story. So far the colective fleets have just exited hyperspace in a interdictor. Most of the ships were a bit shaken but thanks to the grand crews aboard handled the situation and were moving about making sure all personel were okay and that the damage t the hips wasn't to bad and if it was repairable with what the ships had on hand.
TRN/CRW Zenadra "Zena" Flurdilee //TF:/Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[This message has been edited by Zena (edited November 7, 2013 11:55:26 PM)]
TosthAaaiser
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 8, 2013 1:24:36 AM    View the profile of TosthAaaiser 
Abrae, Medical Offices

What the kriff is going on? The Ithorian was livid. Without hesitation, he put a holocall through to the Paragon. Kriff. No response. He knew the next stage of the fighting had not yet begun. He had seen the reports... So why was there no acknowledgment of his call?

A few minutes later, another holocall in his office. He promptly answered. The figure of the Paragon's Commanding Officer, Commander Pherik 'Serpent' Zail. He appeared to be very tense and stressed...

“Ah. Admiral. What can I do for you?” The holofigure seemed very serious and calculating, just as the Ithorian knew the man to be in life.

“Firstly, I wanted to congratulate you on the promotion, Commander. I've been very busy as of late and have not had time to formally congratulate you.”

The figure chuckled. “Thank you, Admiral. Now that we have finished with the formalities, what was the true purpose of this call? I can tell something is on your mind.:

The Ithorian paused for a moment, not quite accustomed to the Commander's personality. “Yes. This is very, very troubling in my eyes... I have just now only heard mention of a major change in medical staffing between the Fleets. It has been nearly a month since the change. Why have I only just now been informed of this, and not even through a formal report or request?”

“And how exactly did you become aware of this, Admiral?”

“One of my assistants mentioned it in passing. I question him after the incident. What I don't quite understand is why I was not consulted in any of this. I am head of the Navy's medical staffing. I do believe I should have some influence in matters such as this.”

“I see. I did order my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Praan to compile and send a report to you.” The holofigure shook his head in disbelief. “Praan's been becoming more and more of a problem every day. I don't understand it.” The Commander paused for a moment. “And as for not consulting you... The matter of you not being consulted... That matter lies in my views of the department from your predecessor's days. I had grown accustomed to having the power of these types of decisions lying in only the ship or the Fleet.”

“Completely justifiable, Commander. I've known many a man who has fallen over time with power. My predecessor, for instance. There are very few men who can avoid falling when given power of any sort... And I am conversing with one of those rare men.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” The holofigure paused for another moment. “I'm trusting we will begin to observe major changes in our medical wings. I know of your reputation during your assignment with Admiral Trykon.”

“I am indeed hoping to push major reforms through the department... I do feel that this meeting has reached its conclusion.”

“Indeed it has. And, Admiral: if I do indeed need your counsel, rest assured, I will be contacting you.” The holofigure disappeared and the meeting was over.

***

Quote:Appearance
Grey skinned and dour faced, Doctor Praan has the look of someone who is eternally depressed. The harsh lines and wrinkles on his face, brought on by too much frowning, combined with his white hair, give humans the impression that the Arkanian is a lot older than he actually is. Thus his surly attitude is put down to age.

Personality
Doctor Praan used to hate the stern and joyless attitude of other medical officers, and vowed not to be one of them. And then, over time, a constant string of bad assignments wore away at him. Finally, he became what he hated, and now he takes his frustrations and general annoyance out on everyone around him. Deep down some part of him still cares about the people who would be his patients, but he grumbles too much for anyone to see that.

History
Doctor Praan began his career in science, a field popular with many Arkanians. Specialising in biology, he enjoyed the quiet life of a research assistant on an Outer Rim scientific survey vessel. For ten years he was content.

Then came the Galactic Civil War, and science had to take a back seat. Instead the galaxy needed his skills for medicine, and he reluctantly retrained as first a field medic, and then as a full doctor. Praan was then drafted by the Galactic Empire (who overlooked his near-human status due his talents) and forced him to serve on the front lines, tending Stormtroopers and the Imperial Army.

After the Battle of Endor and the unravelling of the Empire, Doctor Praan saw his chance to defect. He chose the Vast Empire because he figured that the fledging regime would be more appreciative of his skills than the likes of the New Republic. He was wrong. Praan was stationed to a small outpost on the edge of VE space and promptly forgotten about.

When he finally got transferred to serving on a Naval vessel, it came as both relief and further frustration. He had wanted to be Chief Medical Officer of a Star Destroyer. Still, he is working with what he was dealt, and now is working his way up.


Odd. This biography seems a bit incomplete... Still, such a shame. I hate to see doctors and scientists fall to bureaucracy and politics like this. The Ithorian shook his head. With his recent behavior and actions, it may be better to pull him back to Abrae...

OOC:
WC: 920

AAR: The Surgeon-General learns of the crew rearrangement between the Adj and Paragon. He contacts Serpent and attempts to convince the Commander that a new medical division is on the rise. After the meeting, Habend researches Serpent's CMO.
JC |MCPO Tosth “Fishhead” Aaaiser |ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt |FC |VEN | VE
TO | MCPO "Fishhead" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

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Avalar
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 9, 2013 12:49:46 AM    View the profile of Avalar 
Jexxel had survived. That was all that Makenna could think about. It made her happy that after the events of almost annihilation, gaining an inexperienced SC, and witnessing a mur… er death, Jexxel had just gone through a mission and done well. No, nothing they did had been that groundbreaking. Their kill rate was average, but they hadn’t lost a single member to the cold hands of death. One member had ejected, but he was alive and well. The ejected pilot’s replacement, Tzism, had proved to be a great replacement during the fight, and Makenna had made sure to talk him up so as to keep him from returning to reserves.

But, as was typical of the VE, there was no rest for the victor. As soon as they landed this victory, they were bound and determined to head right into the next one. And in that time Jexxel, among hundreds of others, had been moved from the Adjudicator to the Paragon. The setup was rushed, and Makenna’s squadron had been less tidy than usual, but she had temporarily ignored the cleanliness issue in lieu of the post-battle paperwork.

If I didn’t feel so obligated to sign all of these myself, I would probably just send them off to Maroy. She thought to herself as she set aside the datapad. Her mind was numb from all the information she had to remember and go through. The action aspect of being a Squadron Commander was great, but the annoying politics and the duller points of military protocol were just that, dull and annoying. While she had been a good student in the academy, reading and filling out papers, she had only done so in order to get through it all. She didn’t want it to be her life even after the fact.

The familiar voice of Captain Zail cut through her thoughts as she had stood up to leave the desk of headache-inducing bright screens. “All hands, brace for impact!”

Makenna cursed, remembering the rumors from on high about a possible harmful break in hyperspace. Having walked more than halfway to the metal door of her office, she turned on her heel, ran to her desk, and grasped it first before making her way to the chair.

Just as she began to sit down, it hit. Her right hand grasped the metal desk as hard as possible, but all it caused her was severe pain and a shriek escaped her mouth as she plunged sideways. Makenna grasped for the desk to keep her from hitting the floor, but instead nicked her head on the corner and then collapsed onto the floor.

“Son of a kath hound! Mother of-” ‘Kenna cried out as waves of pain emanated from her body. A small trickle of blood that dribbled into her eye gave evidence to the state of her head injury. The pins and needles in her right hand spoke of old wounds trying their hardest to feel but having no luck with the damaged nerves. However the part of her hand that could still feel pulsed with ache at her stupid move to keep herself from falling. Remember how you decided to do paperwork so that you would be sitting when we exited hyperspace? Good job ‘Kenna. Good job.

Slowly she sat herself up, wiping blood off of her face and onto her uniform. Her head swam with dizziness as she righted herself partially. Her side was most definitely bruised to some degree. And her eye stung fiercely as more blood oozed from the head wound onto her face.

“How the hell did I become Squadron Commander again? If I’m the only wounded in this squadron, I swear…” but even as she said it, she didn’t mean that she hoped the rest of Jexxel had been thrown about because of the sudden jolt. She was just not looking forward to the teasing that would come with being injured after having been warned of the oncoming upset.

Once she felt her head had calmed itself, she grabbed the desk and pulled herself up carefully. Some spots impeded her vision but she ignored it and managed to get herself upright. Turning to the door as she had been doing before all this, Makenna paced forward and keyed it open. She looked around the Jexxel barracks and noted that the unkempt nature of it was even more unkempt. Objects that weren’t packed down had rolled, bounced, and slid around to find new homes within the barracks. Scanning the room, Makenna saw that a couple Jexxel members had also been caught unawares by the impact.

“Jexxel! Status! Who’s injured?” Makenna called out as she padded into the room, one arm wrapped around her stomach, feeling for new bruises.

“Not really any serious injuries. I predict many bruises in all of our near futures though,” replied Tamran who seemed to be ever present to report the state of things.

“Who is injured?”

“Kenth landed on his leg,” called a female voice which Makenna recognized as Lindi, “Drax cut himself on a rather sharp bit of metal. And my nose is bleeding.”

“So most of the Jexxel veterans are injured…” Makenna sighed though found the situation humorous in another sense.

“And what the hell happened to you Commander?” It was Van Mundi’s voice. Makenna wiped more blood onto her sleeve.

“I made friends with a desk, but it rejected me,” the Squadron Commander said simply, not wanting to reveal her stupidity, “Let’s get all the injured seen by medical staff. I’m sure they’re going around the ship as we speak. Graff, go out in the hall and call any you can find and give them a report on our injured,” the relatively new Jexxel member saluted and made his way out of the Jexxel barracks quickly.

White spots began to wash over Makenna’s vision again and she quickly found a bunk to rest on. Tamran walked over to her, “I never knew paperwork could be so life threatening.”

“Don’t even go there. I even told myself not to stand up so I wouldn’t be the injured Squadron Commander.”

“Hope you didn’t get a concussion. That’s not going to bode well for our next battle.”

“I’ve already got a hand that is weakened and scars from past pirate skirmishes. I think I can handle a simple concussion,” Makenna stated as the door to the barracks opened revealing Graff and a couple medical staff. One approached Makenna but she shook her head, “Go see my pilots first.”

“Apologies Miss Aleshire, but your own subordinate said your injuries were possibly the worst,” replied the female human. Makenna blinked and wanted to fight back, but she knew the sooner she got done, the sooner the others could be seen to so Makenna obeyed as the medic checked her eyes, patched up her head wound, and looked her over for any more possible wounds. Once she was approved, the female left for the next Jexxel pilot.

“Head wounds always look worse than they are,” she muttered as she watched the nurses tend to the others. Tamran opened his mouth to speak, but Makenna continued, “But I suppose it was kind of Graff to have concern,” the blond male blinked at ‘Kenna in surprise, having expected more of a stubborn reply. The Squadron Commander met his eyes as he stared at her. “What the heck is that look for?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” he chuckled, “Just a side of you that doesn’t always surface.”

“It’s probably the lack of blood in my brain right now. Ugh, I have to change uniforms and get this one clean. Don’t think the higher ups would appreciate a blood-stained uniform at meetings…”

“Nah. I think it gives you a very edgy look. Very fashion forward,” Tamran grinned as Makenna reached out to smack him.

“Miss! I would appreciate if further injuries could be avoided by rough play,” Makenna flinched at the female medic’s voice, not expecting her to be there, “Your pilots will be fine. None of them are hurt badly enough, however I suggest taking it easy to keep from possibly damaging anything,” with that the woman left. Makenna blinked as she walked away.

“She’s an odd one,” Tamran stated. Makenna nodded and then noticed that Graff and Mundi were packing up to go.

“And where are you two off to in such a hurry?”

“Commander Aita called Cresh Flight for a sim run,” Graff replied, saluting again. Mundi saluted sharply as well. Not something you’d see in Strill. At least my squadron has ranks.

“Only Mr. Aita would ask for a sim run when the ship is in chaos,” Makenna said, not wanting to refer to the Lieutenant Commander by rank. Their relationship within the squadron was weird enough as it was. She hated recognizing that he was a much higher rank yet somehow her subordinate, “Well off you go. It’s good practice,” the two pilots nodded and exited the barracks.

“Well, gonna have us do the same?”

“Soon. First I need to check up on the hundreds of messages I’m sure I just received in light of this. That exit from hyperspace was a lot rougher than any normal gravitational pull I’ve ever felt, and I’d like to know what in the world our orders are. Also, I really need to not wear a bloodstained uniform…”

“The red really adds a nice accent-” but Makenna flicked his nose before he could continue.

“Ouch. Geez,” Tamran whined as he touched the area Makenna had flicked. She chuckled and walked over to her office. She keyed open the door and let it stay open behind her as she grabbed her datapad.

“You’re so mean sometimes! You don’t even follow doctor’s orders!” Tamran yelled loud enough for her to hear. The SC just shook her head as she scrolled through messages. One of them was info regarding what had just occurred but more specifically, the timeline they were now under. Reading it over she sucked in a breath.

“What?” Tamran was suddenly behind her, but she didn’t flinch.

“Oh nothing. Just that we’re going to be on this ship for a very, very long time,” she said, pointing to a part of the message. The blond squinted as he looked over her shoulder then whistled.

“A month? Wow.”

“It’s going to be a tense few weeks. But through weakness, we are strong. Or so the new Jexxel saying goes.”

“The saying mentions nothing about boredom.”

Makenna dropped her shoulders letting out a sigh of exasperation, “Sometimes, Tamran… just sometimes…”

“What?”

OOC:
WC: 1759
AAR: Makenna thinks about how Jexxel is finally on a good path as well as how annoying paperwork is. She gets up right when Serpent calls for everyone to brace themselves thus causing Makenna to fall and hit her head on her desk. She checks on the rest of her squadron which thankfully are mainly unharmed save for some wounds. Some medical staff patch what is needed and give them the clear. Makenna exchanges some words with Tamran and then finds out that they're going to have a very long trip before the invasion.
SCO | SCPO Avalar | Silver 1 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

[SoA]  [MC1]  [CC: W]  [DSM] x2  [CBV]  [CC: D]  [CNQST]  [WM1]

TRN | INI Zarya | VEDJ | VE
Trykon
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Trykon
 
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
[VE-NAVY] Rear Admiral
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 9, 2013 11:37:32 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
OOC:
Half an hour before the reversion to realspace at the barrier caused by Centerpoint Station.

Content advisory: suggested adult situation.


“I’m endangering your position,” Damon Woods said, his voice tight with worry.  “I shouldn’t have come.”

Wyl Trykon turned around still half-dressed, ready with a suggestive pun, but he stopped himself from making the light joke when he saw his apprentice - and new lover - shaking his head, the young man’s fair features lined with concern.  Instead, he asked gently: “You’re serious?”

Damon met his stare.  “You know I am, Wyl.”  He paused, and bit his lip.  “What am I doing here?” he asked suddenly.  Fiercely.  His green eyes flashed with insistence, and utter vulnerability.

Wyl dropped his uniform jacket back onto his desk, and strode back to Damon’s side.  He rested both hands on the redhead’s shoulders, and drew him in for a kiss.  After a long moment, he pulled away.  “That,” Wyl answered, staring into Damon’s eyes with a knowing smile, “among other things,” he added slyly.

The redhead shook his head, scowling more intently than before.  “Emperor’s bones, Wyl, is that all you can think about?” he snapped, pushing Trykon’s hands away peevishly.

Anger stabbed through Wyl’s gut, and it took all his self-control to prevent himself from lashing out physically... or through the Force.  Most former telbun-slaves had longstanding issues with the feeling of being abandoned, and Wyl Trykon was no different: his rage always came, in a futile attempt to cover the shame of being given to the trade by his parents, and to avoid thinking about the many personal slights he’d been forced to endure since.

Suddenly, Damon froze, his eyes wide with fear.

Apparently, your self-control could use some work, Wyl thought to himself.  He smiled wanly, dropping his mental barriers so Damon could feel his bemusement, just as the young man had felt his anger a moment before.  “I’m not going to hit you, Damon,” Wyl said quietly.  “I’m not that kind of Master.  And I’m not that kind of man,” he added soberly.  “In answer to your question, Knight: I think about a great deal more than just that.”

He deliberately used Damon’s rank, instead of his name.  And the other man noticed: he sat up straighter on the bed, and bowed his head automatically.  It was the posture one adopted whenever one was in the presence of a senior darksider of the Imperial Jedi Order.

Wyl continued: “I think about your training schedule, for one thing.  I want you close to me, for convenience.”  He raised an eyebrow, and seemed to appraise his apprentice’s naked chest.  “We have more work to do, if you want to be ready for what’s coming.”

Damon nodded, mute.  His sense in the Force bristled at the reminder that he hadn’t yet mastered the techniques Wyl could teach.  And then he seemed to notice that his mental barriers weren’t properly reinforced: he glanced up at Wyl, and then quickly back down at the floor, and his emotions abruptly faded from Wyl’s sense.

Trykon nodded, his point made.  “I think about how dangerous the other Jedi can be, for another thing.  I want you close to me, for your own safety.”

He waited, but Damon made no reply, and the younger man’s sense in the Force did not change.  Good, Wyl thought.

“And for yet another thing, I think about what Raziel is trying to do for the Empire,” Wyl said, thinking about the Headmaster’s vision of a publicly-acknowledged Imperial Jedi Order, fighting openly on the front lines.  “I want you close to me, to make a point.  The Navy’s rank and file have to get used to seeing Jedi around, and they’ll eventually have to learn to follow orders given by... by civilians like you.”  His tone kept the term from being an insult, but not by much.

Damon lowered his head a fraction of a centimeter more.  A micro-bow of acknowledgment.

Wyl took a breath, and then sighed theatrically.  “And yes, I think about kissing you, and I want you close to me for my own selfish reasons, too.”  He sniggered, and threw his arms out wide in a gesture that was equal parts shrug and offer to embrace.

Damon looked back up, and launched himself off the mattress to accept the hug.  “So… I’m not endangering your position?” he asked as he pulled away after, his expression still serious, but no longer peeved nor scared.

“Even if you are, it’s by design,” Wyl reassured him, with another quick kiss to the forehead.  “Put another way, you are my position.  If people have a problem with having a Dark Jedi aboard, I need to know.  If they dislike that a civvie has so much pull with the Chief of Naval Operations, I need to know.  And if anyone’s still clinging to outmoded notions about sexuality, well, I want to know that too.”  He flashed a grin, and turned back to his uniform jacket.

As he finished dressing, he could hear Damon putting on his own clothes - the brown robes of a Jedi Knight, worn over a lightweight synth-fiber tunic and utility pants - behind him.

“Shall we?” Trykon asked when they'd both finished, gesturing toward the door.

Damon nodded, adjusting his belt one last time.  “As you wish, Master.”

Trykon rolled his eyes.  “Try to remember to call me Admiral in front of them.  Don’t want all this to be too spooky, too fast.”  He winked, and keyed the panel next to the door.  It whooshed open, and he exited, his lightsaber swaying at his hip.

Damon lingered for a moment before following.  The Vast Empire’s invasion armada was due to arrive at the Corellian System relatively soon, and it was only proper that the commanding Admiral of the Third Fleet be on the bridge of his flagship when they dropped out of hyperspace.  Damon just wasn’t sure if the symbolism would be muddled, when that commanding Admiral showed up with his magic-using boyfriend.  He frowned again, before hurrying after Trykon, towards the Adjudicator’s bridge.

OOC:
1,031 words.  All character development, setting up an NPC never-before-seen outside the DJO: Damon Woods.

Summary: Before the fleet's arrival at the barrier around the Corellian System, Wyl Trykon talks with his apprentice (and lover), Damon Woods, in the Admiral's Berth of the Adjudicator.  Trykon mentions the need to acclimatize his crew to the idea of Jedi being real, and on their side.  He mentions that the members of the Order are "dangerous" to one another.  He mentions that Damon needs more training, if he's to succeed at some unidentified task.  And he confesses that he also just likes having Damon close to him.  By the end of the conversation, Damon agrees to follow Trykon to the bridge, but privately he still has doubts about his presence on the Star Destroyer...
Naval High Command
CNO/Rear Admiral Trykon/NHC/VEN/VE

Second Vast Imperial Fleet
SCAP/RADM Wyl "Trick" Trykon/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/3Flt/FC/VEN/VE

Decorations
[*IG*][*AO*][WM0][HNS][1NS][2NS][LSM][BWC][SWC][GWC][CC:4][CNQST]
[NSM][E][NAR][NDM][MSMx2][SoA][CoB.][VC:B][VC:S][VC:G][VC:E][SoV][LoM][DSM][NC][IGC]

(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)(=*FOCE*=)

SM/DWR Trykon/Dark Jedi/Shades/Raven L-04/DJO/VE [EoP]
Ross
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Ross
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 10, 2013 2:09:07 AM    View the profile of Ross 
The bridge of the Paragon was unsurprisingly similar to the simulators Ross had trained on during his time in Fleet School. Therefore he was able to situate himself in the gunner's area with familiarity. The station he was used to working at was no different from the Paragon save for the notable wear and tear on the controls. The ship had obviously seen plenty of action to have worn out the controls of weapons systems so. Still, Ross wasn't going to complain about something like that. It'd only be a matter of sending out a work order to have the board of controls replaced, but Ross convinced himself he didn't want to inconvenience whoever's job it would be to do such a task. Besides, it reminded him of his old ship he'd used during his smuggling days, the Dauntless; comfortable, like a pair of good shoes... cozy, even.

The stars outside the bridge's viewports sped past them, burning trails of light to paint the familiar tunnel of hyperspace. Ross pointedly avoided looking at it for too long. Staring down the rift between real space made him feel queasy and he had no intention of succumbing to hyper-rapture on his first real assignment since his graduation from the Academy.

Ross tried not to think too much about the ship's course or it's mission. He'd done an admirable job so far while he toyed with the controls around his station. His mind wandered, however, back to his time piloting the Dauntless with his crew, to his family back home and despite himself, home in general.

Corellia. Home. The world I grew up on. The planet I'm going to help invade.

Up until now Ross had avoided sorting through his conflicting emotions on the mission. The internal turmoil had put a dour mood on his normally positive attitude. He really didn't know if he could justify their mission to bring Corellia under VE rule as part of a greater good that would ultimately be in the planet's best interest. Because no matter what anyone claimed, there would be no denying that this was an invasion. Negotiation had failed.

When the time came, would Ross be ready to fire on his fellow Corellians? Probably, but it would be one thing to fire on Corellian vessels, but could he do the same to his planet? Ross didn't think it would come to orbital bombardment, but that didn't change the fact they brought with them troops of ground forces aboard the Fourteenth fleet.

Is my presence here going to jeopardize the mission? Am I going to be a liability? These were questions he didn't want to have answered and so he had avoided thinking about them, but they nagged at him nonetheless. Ross hadn't brought up his concerns to anyone else. He was worried with what might happen if he did.

His thoughts were suddenly forgotten as he suddenly heard the captain cry, "All hands, brace for impact!"

Although confused, Ross promptly gripped the sides of his seat. "What's going on?" Ross asked Yandeer, the Chief Gunner and Ross's immediate superior. The Petty Officer did the smart thing and buckled into his seat. Ross searched around finding other officers bracing themselves as best possible. "Are we being attacked?"

In response, Ross was suddenly thrown forward, his grip ripped free as he toppled over his console. The ship shuddered and the bridge turned into chaos as men crashed around. Those who were fast enough to fasten themselves in their seats grunted as they were tugged against their restraints. Red lights spun around the room and warning klaxons sounded throughout the deck.

Groaning, Ross picked himself up from the floor, rubbing his side where he hit the console. Zail was one of the first back on his feet and he quickly ordered, "Stabilize thrusters! Now!"

Ross inhaled sharply as he looked out the forward viewport and saw one of the other massive ships in the fleet traveling toward them. He cringed as the helmsman quickly took control and pulled away from the ship's collision course. When the two space craft were a save distance away again, Ross sighed with relief. It was only then that he noticed they were no longer traveling through hyperspace. Returning his attention to the rest of the officers scattered about the bridge, he noted that several of them had sustained minor injuries during the jolt.

“All hands, I want damage and injury reports!” Zail snapped. “And navigation, tell me where the frak we are!”

One of the navigators read the figures on his display nervously. The captain's expression seemed to darken when he heard him. Ross was close enough that he could hear the captain as he spoke to the portly Zabrak next to him.

“It’s exactly as your worse case projections said, Doctor Frith,” the captain said.

The Zabrak bobbed his head. “Indeed. The Corellian field extends a massive distance from the system. With hyperspace denied to us, it will take a full month of sublight travel to reach our target.”

There was a wave of murmurs as the bridge members close enough heard the news. Ross blinked, slack-jawed. A month, he thought. Well that would certainly give him plenty of time to deal with his issues.

OOC:

Word Count: 886

TLDR: Ross tried to avoid his feelings of conflict about the invasion of his home planet and his part in it but when the fleet is yanked out of hyperspace, he woefully realizes he will have to deal with it in the coming month before they arrive there.
TRN | CRW Ross Jormund | PLF "Cappadocious" | VENA | VEN | VE
[This message has been edited by Ross (edited November 10, 2013 2:15:04 AM)]
Tzism
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Tzism
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
Post Number:  38
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 12, 2013 6:18:58 PM    View the profile of Tzism 
Taking a break away from the simulation training, Tzism turned off the simulator waiting for the black interior of the cockpit to flow with a red hue after the computer had acknowledged its shutting down. The cockpit hatch opened up to allow Tzism to jump out, and get his barring. He looked around himself to see the other cockpits to be used during there trial simulation runs. He found training to be fun but at the same time he needed to get a break from reality, and just be himself. Stepping up to the door he pressed the side door button to allow the door to swing open, and was walking out to find other crew going about there business. Tzism got in his mind that he was hungry at the time, so he would proceed down to the ships galley, and interest himself in the delicacies of off world cooking, and even some of his own home world luxuries. The walk to the galley would be a while tell he would reach his destination, there was many decks to cross as well as people he would run into along the way. Feeling stomach pain was a sure sign he needed to get some food in his body as well as get some rest after a full on simulator session. 

Arriving at the galley, and looking around Tzism could see other crew members eating at the tables while talking to one another. Seeing the food displayed at the kitchen, Tzism walked up to the ship's cook, pointing out to the food groups that were carefully shown, some having a strong aroma about them and even some foods that were still partially alive. Tzism grabbed the plate that the cook had arranged for him, walked toward where the utensils were and grabbed a set and laid it out on his tray. Also thirsty Tzism grabbed a glass and placed it under the drink dispenser filling it to the top and placing this item as well onto the tray. Moments later Tzism would walk over to one of the tables nearby the view-port of the galley that displayed the outer reaches of space. Tzism could see some tie fighters in patrol while the destroyer was conducting its detail of after mission protocol. Grabbing his fork, and knife Tzism went to eating his food. The texture was made just as he liked it as well it was warm and not to hot to eat, taking a few bites and allowing for his body to digest he grabbed the drink that lay on his food tray and had a few swig's of it as well. Feeling well eaten, Tzism got up from the table and proceeded toward the kitchen again to drop off his food tray, along with glass, plates, and eating utensils. He had thanked the cook for a good meal and walked out from the galley back onto the ships deck flooring to figure out his next plan for the day.

He thought to himself for a bit before deciding to get some exercise in the ships gym area. This would be a good place for Tzism to release stress, and allow his body to take all the food he had eaten and put the energy to use. After a long walk, arriving he approached the gym with a key card in his hand put the key into the door area to allow it to open, and reveal the many pieces of equipment for both muscle building, and cardiovascular exercise. First on his mind was to jump on the bicycle, this was made to visualize his practice on the swoop bike back at home. Before he would start his workout, Tzism went to the dressing room to get into his exercise gear. It would take a bit of time to get out of his working uniform to that of his exercise gear. Not long after he appeared ready to begin exercise. Walking over to the bicycle, he pressed a few buttons on the computer panel, grabbing the handle bars, and placing his feat on the pedals, Tzism began his cardiovascular workout. Also taking out his music apparel, he placed the gear on his ears, and thought of music to play before it began to play during the workout. The exercise would take a while before it appeared Tzism was getting sweat built up and his breathing rather excessive. Taking his feat off the pedals and getting off the bike, he grabbed one of the drink containers to fuel his body with both water and vitamin supplements. After that exercise, he decided to walk over to the weight equipment, sitting down on the bench, and touching a few buttons to allow the computer to appropriate the right weight for his body, and accrue for any imbalances. The workout itself would take a while to complete.

Lifting, stretching, and breathing were key to a successful training session inside the gym area. Each time Tzism would life the weights, breathing each time he would lift, then drop the weight in succession. His arms were getting sore after a while, before tons of sweat built up all over his body. His heart rate was now at its limits. Dropping the weight down onto the exercise bench, he grabbed his drink container, emptying it of its contents through drinking, and allowing the nutrients to flow through his body. Taking a breath he took his music pieces of his ears and went back to the dressing room to wash his body off, and get back into his regular uniform. The workouts were effective for his body and his mind were back to regular operating efficiency. Stepping out from the gym, Tzism grew a smile for relief of a job well done for his productivity then proceeded through the ship decks back to his quarters to read some novels, and watch some news on the computer screen about happenings both at home and across the galaxy. Today was a good day for Tzism!

OOC:
WC: 1004

AAR: Finishing his simulator training, Tzism went to eat some food in the ships galey, and afterwards got in some exercise in the gym then went to his room to rest up for the remainder of the day
FM | SCRW Tzism "Ronin" Ramzis | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [MC2][MiD][SoA][WM0]
Ghastly
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[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
Post Number:  12
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 14, 2013 1:51:59 PM    View the profile of Ghastly 
Tycho blearily rubbed his eyes as he tried to gather up the scattered materials. He was in a place that probably only god knew where. All he knew right now is that half of his tools were lying on the ground, after the jerk from hyperspace. “I mean, I had 5 seconds warning, and I was flipping brazing. How was I meant to be able to secure anything? Thank god for kill switches.” he muttered to himself, as he grabbed the hydro spanner and put it back on the station. Tipping a stool back upright, and then grabbing the servodriver that was lying underneath it, Tycho had finally finished clearing up the mess. Looking back on the top of the station, Tycho expected to see his little project scattered everywhere. Instead it was exactly where he left it, securely locked into some hydrogrips, and the braze had even finished.
Pulling out one of the stools he stated wiring the new cathodes to their servo motors, Tycho thinks back to his last couple of weeks aboard the Paragon.  Strill Sqn. was a nice place. He was with Grent, who‘s life he had saved and vicea versa, as Grent was now his CO. The others their also seemed to welcome him, and he had had a couple of good evenings drinking and playing games with his squad members. He had also spent alot of time in the simulators, so as not to be a burden to Strill, as well as to improve his own skills so he could become a better pilot.
Also he had worked to make his aim better. Strill was part commando, and although he could beat most men close up, his aim needed practice, and so he had bought himself a compact rife, small enough to fit in his small cockpit with ease. And to be fired from it, if needs must.
As he had been thinking he had wired the cathodes to a small servo motor that would retract them so they didn’t get in the way, as well as wiring it to a power cell already in the armour. It would act as if shock boxing gloves, only with metal, rather than leather for the gauntlets. Grabbing his helmet form a side bench, Tycho slid it on and checked if the interface was working properly. It was, with the left hand corner sporting a red dot. Blinking twice at it, it turned green and the cathodes extended to the level of his clenched fist. Taking the helmet off, Tycho turned towards a grey metal wall and punched it. Small sparks danced along it, and the cathodes didn’t budge. Pressing a button on the underside of the gauntlets, they retracted. Pleased with his work, he turned around and started to clear up his workspace, pushing the metal filings into a bin, and returning the brazing rod to its stand.
Grabbing the hydro-spanner, the last item to be cleared up, his datapad bleeped. Hanging the spanner on its post on the wall, Tycho went over and picked it up. On the screen was a message icon. Opening it up, he saw a order from Gurlanin that Strill was to meet in one of the bars. Grinning, Tycho walk out of the room his gauntlets and helmet.
“Wonder what chaos is going to be stirred up now.”

OOC:
Word count: 556
AAR: Ghastly is tinkering in a worksop when the ship drops out of hyperspace. After picking up his tools he thinks back to his first impression of Strill and this ship. After finishin a addition to a wepon, he recives a messege from Gurlanin that Strill was to meet in one of the bars, Tycho wonders what chaos will arrive.
'Shadows Cut'
FM| LCRW Ghastly | Iron Three | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
[SoA]
Serpent
ComNet Veteran
Imperial Baronet

 
Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Commander
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 15, 2013 4:40:04 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
“You seem to be a little bit nebulous on our current situation,” Said Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail slowly, as if explaining to a child.  “We are not going to be attacked.  Take the main defence grid off-line and switch all primary combat systems over to simulations for drills.  Then initiate said drills immediately.”

His XO remained resolute in her lack of motion.  Ensign Eylana Saitroni was a strong character (indeed Zail would have selected none else as his First Officer), but sometimes he found her independent streak tiring.  “Sir, I understand your reasoning.  We are still two weeks from Corellia and thoroughly within Centrepoint’s interdiction field.  Based on that you predict that no enemies can drop out of hyperspace and surprise us, ergo we are safe.  However, I do not think that the Corellians would create this field without the ability to turn it off, or that they would be above dropping it temporarily, landing a fleet upon us, and then raising the field again to trap us at the mercy of said force.”

Serpent pondered this.  “Perhaps,” He conceded, “But this theory of yours is built upon the idea that they know that we are coming.  Incredible feats of hyperspace engineering the Corellians may be capable of, but I doubt that their sensors can extend two weeks travel in distance.  Ours certainly can’t.  No, we approach them blind, and they in turn can’t see us.  We are as safe as we are bored, I fear,” Said Zail, his face glum.  Countless meetings with his new crew and the commanders of the Second Fleet had worn at him.  After a dozen days of such monotony he was almost wishing for a surprise attack, if only to give him and his colossal new warship something to do.

He almost expected another counter, but after a short pause Saitroni nodded and then dismissed herself from his office.  Left to his own devices Serpent turned to the computer upon his desk.  He called up some files he was looking at earlier, frowning as he read over them.

Shoddy reporting from Medical, he noted.  Doctor Praan is already on my watch list and despite my warnings he still thumbs his nose at procedure.  I may have to do something about that in time...

His thought was interrupted by the door chime.  Looking up from his laptop Zail called, “Enter!” in a firm tone of voice.  He was then mildly surprised to see his Weapons Chief, Kol Yandeer, enter.  The tall man, his posture and immaculate uniform crying out his devotion to duty, rarely visited his Captain’s office.  Serpent instantly took note.  “Please, Kol.  Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” Said the native of Lotaith.

“What’s on your mind?” Zail prompted, knowing how much of a stickler for formality the other man was and knowing that he would not speak until explicitly instructed.

“I wanted to speak about Senior Crewman Ross Jormund,” Said Yandeer, his words tinged with a hint of reluctance.  The man he referred to the newest member of the Gunnery crew and therefore under Kol’s command.  However, the Chief was clearly about to say something he did not like saying, though his sense of duty compelled him to do so.

“Is this about his Corellian heritage?” Asked Serpent, having seen Ross’s file and expecting this conversation for a few weeks now.

Yandeer nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I know he is not the only Corellian on board, but he is the only one under my direct command and I have... concerns.”

“I see.  Do you have anything specific?” Asked the Captain.

Kol shuffled in his seat, clearly growing more uncomfortable by the minute.  “Admittedly no, sir, but there is just something off about him.  Jormund is occasionally distracted, thoughtful and introspective.  Clearly the current mission is upsetting him, though he does his best to hide it and does not realise that I have noticed.”

“Has this affected his work?” Pressed Zail, sharing in his Weapon’s Chief discomfort.  Suspecting their own people was not a path he was keen on going down, however necessary it may seem.

“Not really,” Confessed Yandeer.  “In fact, when he is on his game he is quite capable, a truly competent and admirable crewman.  In any other situation he would enjoy my full trust, but right now...”

“I understand completely,” Said Serpent, “But understanding is not agreeing.  Crewman Jormund has done nothing wrong, and while I respect your vigilance, I cannot have us turning on each other.  If his lapses into introspection get worse then feel free to have words with him, but until then treat him as you would any other subordinate.  You said yourself he was good, and right now we need good people more than ever.  Is that clear?”

“Perfectly clear, sir!” Said Kol, straightening and sounding more like himself with the unpleasant conversation over.

“Dismissed, Chief,” Said Zail, and watched the man depart the office without a further word.

Serpent went back to his work, hoping as he always did that he had made the right decision.

OOC:
840 words.  Just some CD, and playing off the recent posts of TosthAaaiser and Ross.

After Action Report:  Serpent orders the Paragon to be set up for constant drills, believing the fleet safe from attack for now (though his XO, Eylana Saitroni disagrees).  He then does some reports, noting his displeasure with his Chief Medic, Dr Padrin Praan.  Finally he talks to Weapons Chief Kol Yandeer, who is worried about Crewman Ross Jormund, a Corellian under his command.

Naval High Command
CNW|Commander Zail|NHC|VEN|VE

SCAP/CDR Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD Paragon /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][SoV][MiD][MC1][VC:E][CAR][CoB.][NC][CC:3][CNQST][PWC][2NS][LSM][WM0][AOx4][DSM](=*Eng*=)(=*BO*=)(=SWC=)
Tzism
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Tzism
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 15, 2013 11:18:36 PM    View the profile of Tzism 
While in his quarters, Tzism took the moment to put his head back, and dream about both his past and the future. There was quite a bit many things on his mind, trying to rack his brain around all of them was a problem, but not something he couldn’t handle. Often dreaming of his time at home, his parents loved him more than he could describe. They both loved him – gave him a home to sleep in, as well as provided the education he needed to move on but also provided opportunities for him to be himself rather than always around, to allow him to grow, and understand, that there was more out there in terms of both growth, and leadership than just on his home world. His parents had allowed him into regular schools, and let him have love interests as well as encounter new technologies, and gave him the ability to pursue his dreams. There was a lot that Tzism wanted to do but he also needed to narrow his search as pursuing a career would eventually lead to his personal happiness, and educate him about new things ,and be more humble in his relationships, and encounters.

There was other dreams though that were different than being with his family, being that he would dream of himself being on another world with different species. He often would see himself having potential of skill, and talent, but haven’t discovered those abilities inside himself, he would need to be tested in order to recall, and understand his talent. Not often would there be special cases of individuals crossing space, and having a unique characteristic or ability, notably they were normal, and just carrying a job or trade, and being happy with there work. For Tzism, he felt he was unique, there was a flare or aura inside him, which he felt but couldn’t narrow what that was. There would be voices calling to him in those dreams, and sometimes there would be colors that would appear, and he would wake up from his sleep after the dream and find himself awakened when work was just about to start. Something was unusual about this, and Tzism wanted to speak to his leadership to understand what this was as well as speak to a medical officer to better understand this behavior. After the dreams have subsided, Tzism awoke from his sleep, his sheets were thrown about and his skin was a bit itchy. Getting up from his bed, he went towards the shower to clean up and wash away the germs of the day. Stepping inside he would press the button and wait for the water to heat up then cover his body and he would stay showered for sometimes minutes and maybe longer, before grabbing some soap to clean his body. In like a sleep like state, he was pondering about the job but also meeting up with the ships doctor.

After the shower, Tzism pressed the button to turn off the water, stepping out to the side and grabbing a towel to dry himself off. It took a while before he was completely dry. His hair was cut off from getting it shaved during his entrance into the military academy, and having seen a barber aboard the adjudicator. Proceeding to the sink, he grabbed some mouthwash, and tooth brush and started to scrub his teeth clean before washing his hands from the residue. After a clean mouthwash, he breathed into his hand, and smelt the fresh aroma that guided out from his mouth. Stepping out from the bathroom, Tzism walked over the the clothing drawer to open one of the drawers to reveal a clean uniform. Grabbing them, he put them on and walking over to the mirror, gave himself a look over before tidying up his bed and the bathroom and cleaning around his room. The room he thought had been in ready order for inspection and he then walked out from his room and onto the deck flooring to proceed towards the medical area for a evaluation. Walking through the many decks, he saw some officers walk by, giving them a salute and nodding to his fellow crewman. Some of the officers were busy looking over orders, while others were simply inspecting crew quarters or giving the new crew members some lessons over ethics and morals of being an imperial.

Arriving at the door of the medical area, Tzism touched the button to let the doors open. Walking in, he proceeded to the front desk where a medical droid was present. Speaking to it he began to say “Id like to get a medical evaluation with the ships doctor, here are my identification cards as well as proof of medical insurance. If you have any forms for me to sign I will give them a read over.” The medical droid nodded, looking over the information, and passed him the forms to sign. Grabbing the forms, Tzism walked over to one of the seats to read over the questions, and giving them a detailed response for each so that the doctor to make a more accurate decision on his evaluation. There were questions like, “Have you went to the bathroom recently?, Any irritability while sleeping?, having muscle spasms?, currently on medication?, have any allergies to food or when operating equipment or materials?”. These were all questions he had to answer before passing the information to the medical droid. After finishing he gathering all the forms together and gave the medical droid the information to look over before acknowledging and allowing an appointment. Tzism could hear in the background some of the crew were in much needed medical attention, he was lucky to not get hurt, having heard of the disruption during there encounter after the mission. Sitting in his chair, he grabbed a book to read, it was a interesting book, and had quite the variety of subjects to keep him fascinated before his appointment with the doctor.

OOC:
WC: 1002

AAR: Tzism was in his quarters dreaming at first while sleeping, they would consist of both his time with his family and of the mind power he believed was calling out from inside him. After awaking, he would clean up his room and make an appointment to see the ships doctor to give him some understanding of his condition.
FM | SCRW Tzism "Ronin" Ramzis | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [MC2][MiD][SoA][WM0]
Norsedragoon
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Norsedragoon
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 16, 2013 10:45:55 PM    View the profile of Norsedragoon 
(VEN ISD Paragon – Gym Deck)

Einarr worked the training blades in a swift, precise pattern as he deflected the pair aimed at his chest forcing the duo sparring with him off center as he slid around their defense. His blades flashed in the dim lighting of the arena as they slipped low to connect with the armored vests of the Imperial Marines doubling them over as the slight stun charge released to verify the hit in a shower of sparks. Einarr flicked his wrist in the traditional movement to clean the blades before sliding them back into their respective scabbards, the Mon Calamari turned and offered his hands to the Marines as they gripped and rose back to their feet.

“You've gotten better since the camp boss, all that mysterious leave time seems to be paying off. Whats with the new getup by the way?” Ragnar asked, the deffels bat like visage twisting in a grin as he examined Einarr's uniform. The Mon Calamari pilot had been removed from his armor fairly recently thanks to the efforts of the Paragons medical staff allowing him to take up the VEN uniform once more with a few adjustments to cover the heavy scarring. A domed mask and helmet covered his face, the mask molded in the shape of a Dac native, the Devil Squid provided a fierce glimpse to anyone who might come across him with the emblems on the side declaring his allegiance, identity, and squadron. Under the uniform he wore a black body suit to cover his flesh, the collar snapped into the bottom seal of his helmet. Bantha hide gloves concealed both hands from view, their dark tanned leather hardened with plates in spots. The duel over Cassius-2 stepped up to open a flap on the back of Einarr's uniform, removing the practice blades still tucked safely in their scabbards before replacing Einarr's full blades into the harness straps before closing the concealing flap once more. The long hilts of the paired blades rising over his right shoulder to display a flash of tightly wrapped Green and silver scaled hides in a weave.

“I have had good trainers and better partners, that makes it easier than trying to improve against the same stale holograms time and again.” Einarrs already mechanically cold voice sounded yet colder coming through the filters of the helmet. The massively built human on Einarr's other side dusted himself off with his hands as he watched the pilot silently.

“Got to say, wish you had this level of skill back in the camp when those mercs went after Danis. Would have been a lot of help and we might have saved that boy from that damn user that came for him.” Rolands deep tones conveyed the sorrow of the memory, the loss of a young marine recently captured only to be claimed by the Rebels hated Jedi force users. The trio shared a moment of silence as they each thought back to that dark time. “All in favor of a shot or two in memory of those no longer with us?”

“That would be a good idea friends, lead on oh conquering hero!” The deffel gestured Einarr to proceed the pair half mockingly, Ragnar had taken the series of lost bouts to a 'no talent fly boy' a little hard but kept his typical good nature. Einarr stepped out of the training ring as the pair fell in step behind him, Einarr kicked up the cooling levels on the body suit as it wicked away the sweat from the physical exertion, stopping the small procession outside the locker room as the pair of Marines ducked in to change. Moments later they were once again on the path to the ships off duty bar for a round of drinks.


“And then he popped the hog faced son of a bantha right in the snout, laid him out cold and as the guards came rushing he looks up and says 'help I think he tripped!' right before dropping a crate on him.” The small group of Marines and pilots laughed at the story as another round of blue stuff was passed around the table. The former prisoners and comrades from the New Republic prison camp didn't meet often, but when they did they tended to party hard. The ships night was half over as the group traded stories to the quiet tones of a holorecorded band playing in the background. Various others wandered in, sat at the various tables or the bar, but were not made welcome inside the circle of friends and comrades who had spent so long behind the wire on Dantooine. Einarr sat off to one side of the group, close enough to be included but just as obviously watching over them like a Kath hound over its pups, Roland was doing the same on the far side of the gathering and Ragnar had point over watch on the side by the hatch. The Trio were protective of their fellows, they had lost to many as it was, they would not lose any more. The Deffel signaled Einarr with a nod as a couple of pilots from one of the Paragons squadrons wandered in the door in a small group, and Einarr dreaded the inconvenience of one of his own squadrons members coming to attempt small talk with him or one of that squadrons members getting rowdy and starting a fight here. He moved slowly to put himself between the group and any other heavy concentration of crew that looked to be to numerous or at risk of getting rowdy later as he silently continued his vigil.

OOC:


Wordcount: 948

AAR: After a training regimen with some old comrades from the Dantooine prison camp, the group retires to the ships off duty bar to watch over the rest of the liberated prisoners as they relaxed.
FM/CPO/Einarr "Norsedragoon" Ghylthir/Besh 2/S:46 Jexxel/W:101 Blade/ISD Paragon /TF:A/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[MC1] [MC2] [SoA] [IG]  (=^Eng^=) {AFM} {Astr} {VehM} {SfrM} {Gunn} {GrAt} {XenMA}
Tzism
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Tzism
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 20, 2013 12:13:20 AM    View the profile of Tzism 
After the medical droid had forwarded the information over to the nurse and medical personnel they would analyze the information provided by Tzism to the doctor to review. This would take a bit of time, but in the end it was worth the effort. He was wondering what the condition he had was and what his mind was portraying in his visions. There was a point to where the doctor could decide or help conclude on a solution for this or even provide medicine to help control this or rather give some pointers to help Tzism understand in a real world perspective. The doctors job was an important one being that they had to go through many patients, as well have evaluations of each of them but keep confidentiality of the patient between themselves and the doctor. If the ship commander or commander of the squadron needed this information they would have to speak to both the patient, and consult with the doctor before getting that documentation to review for a medical board to allow the crew to continue work or to send them home for medical leave. Tzism knew about this information as to the disclosure form and having spoken with doctors back on his home planet he grabbed some of the documentation in copies to allow the ships doctor to evaluate further and continue providing a medical analysis of Tzism.

One of the nurses nodded to the medical droid while Tzism sat in the chair patiently the droid began to speak, “Tzism we have reviewed your medical information, you will have a appointment shortly, keep seated and wait for your number to be called, we will consult with you upon that time.” He nodded to the medical droid and pulled out a view screen panel to read up on his training for the squadron as well as get some updated information about the ships and vessels that were assigned to the vast empire as a whole. Each one of them interesting in there own fashion but also carrying the necessary power and agility that one would need in the form of battle or wartime scenario. Tzism closed his eyes after a while of reading and began to dream a bit, there was no one in the room except for the medical personnel and the droid looking over orders and seeing out appointment schedules. The medical droid began to speak to Tzism, “Wake up, your appointment is ready, please proceed towards the doorway and one of our nurses will direct you to the doctor.” Tzism woke and followed the nurse through the entry and was asked a few questions before speaking with the doctor themselves. They began to ask the questions “Have you eaten recently, how much do you weigh, what things have you done before coming to see the doctor, what dreams have you had while sleeping”. These were all the questions the nurse had before directing Tzism to one of the patient offices for the doctor to arrive and ask Tzism about his medical status.

Sitting down in the chair, the nurse spoke “The doctor will arrive shortly, I will speak with them and get them to talk with you. Have a good rest of the day” the nurse replied then closed the door to allow time for the doctor to read over the information and then to walk into the room with Tzism. Moments later the doctor walked through the door, and said hello to Tzism, and shook his hand before sitting down to talk about the information he had received. “Ah an interesting review I have here, thank you for answering all these questions for me, I have concluded after looking at the data that you will need to perform some mental exercises including those that allow yourself to understand telekinesis and levitation, as well as get some practice in the gym with one of our instructors over physical tension exercises and building a training saber with some practice in meditation. I don’t believe you are sith, but with these exercises we can gauge your ability and allow for some understanding before I proceed with the information to give to command to pursue either the sith training arts, as well as continue with your training in the navy. Let me tell you not everyone is selected, and to get into the training is something special, if you get picked you will find out. Until then practice those exercises I have given you and continue making logs of all your dreams and push yourself as much as you can with the instructor. They will write down your training information and command will contact you if they deem it necessary. I very much appreciate your openness in the meeting and we shall have another medical appointment in due time. Have a good rest of the day.” The doctor finished speaking, handing Tzism his medical paperwork copies and some new orders to give to his squadron commanders to review.

Leaving the medical area, Tzism walked from the ships hospital bay to his quarters, the trek would be a long one. Walking through many decks, he could recall himself passing by many of the crew members, and officers. Some of them were focused on there own work at the time, while others were doing physical exercises or marching in formation, and speaking in cadence with one another. Tzism could see some of the crew doing pushups and even situps, having either been a crew member speaking out of line with the officer or the cleaning work was not up to par with imperial regulations. After a long walk through the decks of the Paragon, Tzism had arrived at the door of his quarters, he pulled out of his pocket a key card and opened the door to lay down on his bed and get some rest before he would dream again, allowing himself to rest and recall some of his inner emotions while his body could recuperate.

OOC:
Stormz - Please edit your post to be in line with the 'no force' rule


OOC:
WC: 1002

AAR: Arriving at the medical bay, Tzism was able to get a medical review of his mind and body. After which the doctor requested he perform training exercises, and speak with his squadron commanders after the training had completed before making a conclusion. After the review Tzism went to his quarters, and got some sleep as well as began to dream.
FM | SCRW Tzism "Ronin" Ramzis | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [MC2][MiD][SoA][WM0]
[This message has been edited by StOrMz (edited December 20, 2013 9:41:34 PM)]
Trykon
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Trykon
 
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Warrior
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 26, 2013 7:27:58 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
Damon Woods, Dark Jedi Knight, was still preoccupied by self-doubt, even as he followed his lover, Admiral Wyl Trykon, through the corridors and lifts that tunneled through the superstructure of the latter’s command ship, the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Adjudicator.  Worries coursed through his brain in waves, like some sort of diseased blood spurting with every frantic beat of a sickly, overworked heart.

Damon was lost in such dark thoughts… so lost that he didn’t notice when Wyl abruptly stopped walking, and half collapsed against the bulkhead: the redheaded apprentice collided into his master at full speed.

“Oh!  I’m sorry, Master, I… What’s wrong?” Damon sputtered, his tone slingshotting from apologetic to concerned as he came to full external awareness.

Trykon was visibly shaken, clutching at the cool durasteel of the bulkhead as he rested his weight on it.  The older man’s breathing was ragged.  “Can’t you feel it?” Trykon asked, his eyes wide with horrified surprise.  “I need to contact the bridge…”

But even as Trykon lurched toward a communications panel further down the corridor, the whole ship seemed to lurch as well.  The corridor shook as if some mammoth earthquake were toppling a planetary capital… only they weren’t on a planet, they were in space.  The deck rushed up at Damon, and suddenly he was sprawled on the floor, pain erupting in his right knee.  When the violent shaking stopped a moment later, Damon at last trusted himself to speak: “Hellfire!” he spat, clutching at his knee.  “What was that?”

Trykon pushed himself back up to standing, and threw a sour look in Damon’s direction.  “That was the Barrier,” he said softly, before making the few strides to the communications panel, and keying in the connection code for the main command deck.  “Bridge, this is Admiral Trykon.  Report,” he commanded into the panel.

Damon’s mind raced while the Chief of Naval Operations checked in with his flagship’s command staff.  The Vast Empire’s Naval Intelligence service had known about the Barrier, of course: indeed, it was common knowledge that the Corellian League had closed their home system to all outsiders, using some sort of subspace barrier that blocked hyperspace travel, not unlike the interdiction technology developed by the Empire years before.  But that Barrier was not supposed to extend this far beyond the Corellian System.  It wasn’t supposed to be possible that it extended this far.  The Fourteenth and Second Fleets had planned to make the final few days of travel at sublight velocities, but the timing of the impact they’d just endured meant... It meant that sublight travel to the system would take far longer than they’d hoped.

“What’s our position?” Damon asked weakly, when Trykon had finished his conversation.

“The damn Corellians bested our worst-case projections by a factor of seven,” Trykon growled.  “We’ll be at sublight the better part of a month, just to reach the operational zone.”

Damon swallowed.  A month at sublight, before the battle could begin.  A month for the surprise to burrow into the psyches of every Vast Imperial in the invasion force.  Who knew what other nasty traps the vile Corellians might have prepared, if they could hide a Barrier of such power and size?  Could they be tracking the Vast Imperial armada as it came in?

Trykon’s steady voice cut through Damon’s rapidly-multiplying worries.  “Come on,” the admiral urged, resuming his course to the bridge at a greater pace.  “We have work to do.”

OOC:
581.  Short and rough, but I wanted to squeeze in a little more character development before we reach the battle proper, and this is what I could come up with in the time I had. 

AAR: Trykon and Woods at the moment of collision with the Barrier created by Centerpoint Station.  The younger Jedi is still preoccupied with doubt and worry.  The Admiral, meanwhile, seems preoccupied too... but it's unclear what's troubling Trykon.
Naval High Command
CNO/Rear Admiral Trykon/NHC/VEN/VE

Second Vast Imperial Fleet
SCAP/RADM Wyl "Trick" Trykon/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/3Flt/FC/VEN/VE

Decorations
[*IG*][*AO*][WM0][HNS][1NS][2NS][LSM][BWC][SWC][GWC][CC:4][CNQST]
[NSM][E][NAR][NDM][MSMx2][SoA][CoB.][VC:B][VC:S][VC:G][VC:E][SoV][LoM][DSM][NC][IGC]

(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)(=*FOCE*=)

SM/DWR Trykon/Dark Jedi/Shades/Raven L-04/DJO/VE [EoP]
Joamer
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Joamer
 
[VE-ARMY] Sergeant Major
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 28, 2013 8:48:33 PM    View the profile of Joamer 
Feeling the sudden shift of the ship’s gravity generators he swore as she was torn from hyperspace. Letting his own momentum carry him he slid his feet across the floor as his chair went crashing into a far wall. His strill Lurk still soundly asleep slid off the desk and onto the floor, only a soft growl echoed from her as she went quickly back into whatever dream she was in.

“Why is no one ever around when I do things that cool?” He mumbled to himself. “No point in telling anyone they would think I was lying. Bloody engineers and designers, give me an old Venator any day. Those bad boys survived the Clone Wars and are still in service. These new toys are next to useless.”

Walking to one of the viewports of his quarters on board their newest flagship he stopped as he stared out into a scene that was almost amusing if not for the rather bad feeling he was now getting. “Well, that’s not something you see many times in a lifetime.”

Outside amidst the emptiness of space sat the taskforce designed and organized into attacking the only group that remained independent during the Empire’s height of power. The state of that task force was worse than usual. Frigates, Destroyers, Escourts, Corvettes, Patrol ships, Troop transports and even the fighters flying CAP duties were drifting apart. Only a few being under their own power.

“We were all spread apart, no interdiction field is that powerful. Nothing that is portable anyways.” His eyes grew wide as realization sunk in. Smiling to himself he walked to the desk that was bolted down, opened a small door on one side then removed a bottle of Corellian whiskey. Removing a glass from the same door he opened the bottle and poured a shot. “Good job lads. The high and mighty Empire thought they could go up against mother Corellia and not get dirty. You activated Centerpoint, very well done.”

Draining the glass he walked slowly to where his chair had crashed into a bulkhead. Placing it next to the viewport he reached back grabbed this whiskey bottle and sat down. Propping his legs up on the edge of the view port he leaned back and enjoyed the spectacle. The blood red piping running the outside edge of his pants legs shown brightly for a moment in the flickering overhead lights.


OOC:
WC-401... Apparently I'm not fully back into my insane word count self yet. But, it's better than nothing. Just a bit of CD set-up for Joa.
Joamer Tremaine Reistlin
Ensign, Squadron Commanding Officer
Aurek Flight, Strill Squadron

SCO|ESN Joamer |Squadron: The 58th  "Strill"|Wing: 101st "Blade"|ISD-II  Adjudicator |TF:A|2FL|SFC|VEN|VE
[CC-P] [CC-W] [CC-D] [SoV] [LoM] [E] [NS-H] [VC:B] [CNQST]
Imperial Network Star Wars Image

In memory of Ghost squad, we will never forget.
[This message has been edited by Joamer (edited November 28, 2013 8:50:05 PM)]
Gurlanin
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Gurlanin
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
November 30, 2013 11:42:31 AM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Life aboard any vessel is tough. Even tougher when that same vessel is just drifting towards a battle, and it was starting to show within the crew. Grent saw it in the eyes of the crewmen as they sauntered past him in the hallways. Morale was dropping fast. It had almost been the month promised by the powers at be. Almost a month since the ship was wrenched from hyperspace, causing numerous injuries amongst the crew. Almost a month since the squadron that had been entrusted to the young Mandalorian's care had smiled. They had tried, of course, to joke and laugh. Harmless pranks were performed on unsuspecting members of the crew, and several officers had found themselves waking up in completely the wrong end of the ship.

But it soon stopped.

Whilst these sorts of jokes had been the talk of the Adjudicator, in the times gone by, the Paragon was a much more unforgiving ship. The ideas stopped, and the smiles faded, as the truth of what a month aboard a ship truly meant. Even the voices in Grent's head had ceased to make their all too common asides. At several points, Grent was almost tempted to grant the HK-52 droid's most common request - "Query: May I kill someone for you? Please?" - and 'requistion' one of the smaller frigates. He would take Strill with him, if they wanted to come. Edge, Lady and Starlight would. They were, without a doubt, his best friends in the Vast Empire, and probably the only thing keeping his sanity together ... or what was left of it. Grent knew that he had their loyalty, and not just from rank or position. The rest of the squadron respected him, and gave him their loyalty willingly, but those three were something else entirely. Strill were a tight squadron, tighter than most. In his many meetings with Joamer, the two men often commented on how the Strillians didn't let anyone come between them. Even the newbie, Tycho Avan, had been welcomed in warmly: all because he had been vouched for by one of Strill. They were outcasts, yes, but they were outcasts together. That was something that no member of Naval High Command could ever have forseen. Strill had been expected to fail, yet it had pulled through time and time again.

The only relief from the mundane life aboard the ship came when Strill jumped into their fighters, and relaxed. Flying was the escape that they all craved, but even then it wasn't enough. If they didn't arrive soon, there was going to be a mutiny ...

----------------------------------------------
OOC:
Several years ago.


"Captain, what's going on?"
"I don't know, Elise. Something's not right," replied the burly human, in charge of the civillian freigther currently drifting in deep space.
"It's going to be a while before anyone picks up our distress beacon," commented Elise, looking out the viewport window.
"What about the crew? What do we do about them? What do we do about that man stirring them up?" asked the Captain.
"They are just restless. I'm sure they will calm down eventually. They just want to see their families again."
"That may be the case, but I want you to quietly get a couple of blasters from my locker. As a precaution."
"Do you think they know about the cargo?" asked Elise, as she turned and walked to the bridge door that led to the Captain's room.
"It wouldn't mean anything to them even if they did. The Mandalorians are the only ones we need to be concerned about, and they are far away from here."

Elise nodded, and opened the door. The last thing she saw before hitting the floor, was the wrong end of one of the blasters she was trying to reach. The sudden shot caused the Captain to turn around, just in time to see the blaster bolt that would end his life. A cheer went up from the small group that now congregated in the bridge. The crew of the Golden Lady had taken the ship, along with its cargo.

"What now?" called out one of them.
"I don't know, but I think we need to update the log as too the change of ownership!" laughed another.
"Hey, what's this?" said a third, looking at a readout the was flashing a warning.

He never got a chance to find out, as the freighter exploded, sending debris flying in every direction. Out of the debris glided a strange object, and perched on top was a figure of a man wearing a space suit. It was the man that the Captain had been so concerned about. The man that had replaced part of the hyperdrive with a part that would break at a precise point. The man that had caused a mutiny to cause a distraction, whilst he sabotaged the freighter's power core, causing it to overload in a dramatic explosion, ripping the ship apart. The man that was, even now, using the hidden long range communicator he had smuggled aboard with him when he had taken the identity of one of the crew.

The man was Mandalorian.

The man was Ozunu.

The man was Grent.

----------------------------------------------

Grent awoke with sweat dripping from his brow, the memory of one of his missions all too clear. Mutiny was a useful tool, especially to cover one's tracks, but Grent had never been on the receiving end until Tinker. He was losing focus. Losing his mind. He had been in deep cover too long. If he didn't receive instructions soon, either from Ozunu Aliit or Naval High Command, then he would leave. The pain was becoming unbearable.

OOC:
WC: 946

AAR: Grent thinks about the low morale of the crew, and dreams about a previous mission before his VE days, where he used a mutiny as a weapon. He continues to suffer mentally from his double life.
SCO | SCPO Gurlanin | Iron One | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

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Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 1, 2013 5:46:24 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail prided himself on feeling the mood of his ship.  He noticed the crew, how alert they seemed, how tense they seemed, and had seen both escalate over the last few days.  During their one month crawl through real space the crew had relaxed, loosened up, but that was coming to a close.  As they entered the fourth and final week of their voyage the chatter had died down, the rec room had emptied, and the crew of the ISD Paragon had returned to their usual professional selves.

The invasion of the Corellian System was at hand, and they all knew it.

Arriving for his shift, the Alderaanian Commander passed along the bridge’s command walkway, making his observations of the crew as he went.  Finally reaching the front, he came to a halt beside his First Officer, Ensign Saitroni.  She seemed not to notice him, instead focusing her vision out across the massive Star Destroyer’s prow and into space beyond.

“Eylana?” He asked her, trying to see what held her attention.

“Oh!  Sorry, sir!” Said the Kuati woman, spinning around to face him and saluting smartly.  “I didn’t notice you!”

“Evidently.  So may I ask what you are looking at?”

That, sir,” She said, and pointed.  It took him a moment to follow her line of sight, but she was targeting a star.  At first Zail did not know why, until he realised that the star in question was ever so slightly larger than others, and was in fact a strange shade of blue.

“A planet?”  He asked.

Saitroni nodded.  “That’s what I was thinking,” She said.

“We are in visual range!” Serpent realised out loud, and then turned to the crew pits.  “I want long range scanners at full power, sweep that distant object in front of us!  I need confirmation that we are indeed looking at a planet!”

“Aye, sir!” Came the reply from the Sensor Chief.

Zail turned back to his XO.  “If that is a planet, it would be Soronia, the outermost world of the Corellian System,” He said.  “If so, how long till arrival?”

Saitroni, far more adept at mathematics than her Captain, ran a few rough calculations in her mind.  “We are coming in hard and fast, the fastest I’ve ever seen a Fleet move at sub-light speeds.  Given that and the range, I’d say about twelve hours.”

“Plenty of time to plan our attack,” Said Zail.

“Sir!” Piped up the Sensor Chief, “Confirmation!  It’s an ice-world, fitting the profile of Soronia.  And sir, we are picking up Corellian warships and fighters in orbit, plus two Golan Defence Platforms!”

A smile actually came to Serpent’s lips.  “Then let the battle begin!”

-----

The next twelve hours passed in a frenzy of activity that were out of scale with anything Zail had seen recently.  It had been a long time since he had been on an Imperial-Class Star Destroyer and seen one prepare for battle.  It warmed Serpent’s heart to see the crew of his brand new Paragon going about their pre-battle checks with such dedication and professionalism.  The Commander even noted a hint of eagerness in their behaviour, as if a solid month of travelling through the void had made them desperate for any sort of action.

While his people ran weapons and system checks, Zail had his own tasks to go through.  His was the flag ship of the Second Fleet, and the nearby Fourteenth Fleet was also following his lead.  Hologram conferences with the other captains filled his time as they all strategized.  The lead vessel of Taskforce Besh, the Halcyon Warrior, was an ISD like the Paragon, and as such had a comparable sensor suite.  Between the two warships they had pulled long range scans of their foes and amassed a lot of data about what they were facing.

Crucially, they had determined that the Corellians had not yet finished deploying the second of the two Golans.

“What do you think, Drac?” Serpent asked the hologram before him.  Captain ‘Drac’ Mihawk had once led the Second Fleet himself, and Zail valued the Mon Cal officer’s keen tactical insight.  “We have troop transports.  Think they can make it to the Defence Platform?”

The captain of the Halcyon Warrior made what was (for his species) a thoughtful face.  “A small group of transports can make it, as long as we assign our best fighters as escorts.  The majority of our transports should hang back with the Fourteenth Fleet, though.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mused Zail.  “Thanks for the input, Drac.  Stay in touch.  Paragon out.”

Mihawk nodded and then his hologram image winked out.  Serpent flicked the projector over from communications to tactical display, and observed the disposition of the enemy forces.  Sensors were constantly updating their numbers and exact locations.  Clearly they had seen the Vast Empire armada headed their way, for they were lining up and gearing up for a fight.  There was also a lot of activity around the second Golan, and no doubt the Corellians were rushing to get it online.

Serpent wished them all the worst luck with that.

-----

An hour later and the Vast Empire armada entered combat range.  The Corellian ships were arranged and ready, their fighters already launching as the VE flotillas lined up for battle, though Zail noted that the second Golan was still not fully battle ready.

Serpent surveyed their force.  Their frigates and carriers numbered about a dozen, both outnumbered and outgunned by the Second Fleet.  A large cruiser sat proud as their flagship, but while formidable it would not last long against an ISD such as the Paragon.  However, their foe had a large number of fighters, mostly Republic types like X-Wings, and in this regard the Corellians and the VE were equally matched.  Zail was expecting a win here, but it could well be a costly one, especially if the Golans contributed.  The taking of the second Defence Platform before it was combat-ready could really prove decisive.

“All forces come in hard and fast!” He ordered, his words relayed throughout the VE armada.  “Fourteenth Fleet hang back, the rest of us head in there!  Capital ships engage those frigates!  Fighters, clear a path for out boarding ships to reach the Golan tagged ‘Beta’!  Let’s get to it people!”

And so it began.

OOC:
1054 words.  At long last, here we go!

After Action Report:  The VE armada reaches the outermost planet of the Corellian system, Soronia.  The Corellian Defence Force has stationed a small fleet there to watch for just such an attack as the Vast Empire is planning.

The force is very heavy on starfighters, enough to match the VE fighters one-to-one.  Fortunately, the enemy fleet is made up mostly of carriers and frigates, with a single cruiser at its heart.  To compensate for this lack of raw firepower, however, the Corellians have put two Golan Defence Platforms in orbit of the planet.  Only one of these is fully functioning, and the plan is for our troop transports to rush and board the second Platform before it can be brought fully online.

Our fighters will escort the troop transports in, then break and attack the enemy fighters.  The capital ships of the Second Fleet will engage the Corellian carriers, frigates and cruiser.  The Fourteenth Fleet will hold back to guard the rest of our troop transports and supply ships.

Naval High Command
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SCAP/CDR Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD Paragon /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
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TosthAaaiser
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TosthAaaiser
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 4, 2013 1:40:31 AM    View the profile of TosthAaaiser 
Paragon, Dr. Praan's Office

“You do know why you're here, Mr. Aaaiser?” The Arkanian Chief Medical Officer looked at the Mon Calamari intently.

The Mon Calamari was unsettled by the look he was receiving. This is the Arkanian? “I'm not, sir.”

“As I said before, I am here to place my certified staff where they are needed.”

“And as I said before, sir, Dr. Kaj is my direct superior and has been working with this crew far longer than yourself.”

“Yes, but this is not your personal staffing, is it, Mr. Aaaiser? As I was saying, you are a certified staff member and I am here to place you in a new position.” The Arkanian seemed to be becoming very annoyed.

The Mon Calamari chose to be silent. “Mr. Aaaiser, if you do not cooperate with me, I will see that you are completely stripped of all title and rank and dishonorably discharged personally.”

By all that is good on Dac, he is serious! “Sir.” The Mon Calamari was sitting at attention.

“Good. I have your attention now.” The Arkanian flashed a sinister smile to the Mon Calamari.

How has Commander Zail kept this arrogant kriffer on as his Chief Medical offier for so long?

“As I was saying, I am here to place you into a department. Now, as I understand, your certification was mostly surgical in nature?”

“Yes. As you should know by now, I am a surgeon and will continue to be the case.”

The Arkanian eyed the Mon Calamari curiously. “That remains to be seen. Now, what exactly is your medical background?”

“As you should know-”

“-It is not up to you to tell me what I should and shouldn't know, Mr. Aaaiser.”

“My apologies, sir. I had assumed-”

“-And therein lies the problem. You should never assume anything about your superiors.”

“I had thought that you had seen my resume.” The Arkanian was silent. “I did not originally start as a doctor; I was originally studying at the University of Comennor to study engineering. I left only a year into the program. After that, I took up employment as a pilot for a local merchant in Chasin City. A short time after, I joined the Nay I am serving today.”

“So they admitted you with no medical background at all? Idiots.”

“I had experience. My time on Dac led to needing to understand the basics of medicine. On top of that, I had training once I joined.”

“It is still no justification for allowing you to join the medical corps.”

“I'm not done, sir.”

“Fine, then. Go on.”

“Once I left the division, I returned to my studies. I began a program in xenoarchaeology for six yearsat the University of Agamar. My focus was on insectoid cultures. Once I finished my Master's there, I took my medical experience from my life on Dac and from my time in the Fleet and trained as a doctor for a few years. I swore-”

“Where?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where did you train?”

“I trained with my close friend, Atama So.”

“Close friend. Hmph.”

“She is a Kaminoan. A brilliant scientist and doctor.”

“A Kaminoan? How did you ever manage to meet her?”

“She was a close personal friend of my advisor at Agamar. She is a very unique Kaminoan... She hates how the rest of her kind hides their techology and themselves from the rest of the galaxy.”

“I see... She sounds like she is a very useful resource. Where is she now?”

“On Abrae. She was denied clearance when I returned to active duty. She is running a medical office there currently. She is loyal to me. Herself, her patients, and me only.” The Mon Calamari eyed the Arkanian viciously.

“And why is-”

“-Not important.” The Mon Calamari was livid. “We are done discussing her. Done. Now, is that all you need for my medical history?”

The Arkanian was silent for a moment. “No. Your certification seemed to be surgical. Why?”

Isn't it obvious? “I trained to be a surgeon. I also have a basic understanding of Kaminoan cloning technology.”

“That remains to be seen.” The Arkanian paused for a moment. “You will be placed in the psychological ward and operate there.”

“I refuse.”

The Arkanian sat in his chair, saying nothing.

“I said. I refuse.”

“I heard you. Why is this?” The Arkanian's voice was almost silent.

“You are going against what is good for the patients aboard this ship! My patients!”

“They will be assigned to other personnel.”

“Are you insane? Those are my patients! I am held responsible for their lives! I was a senior surgeon aboard the Adjudicator!”

“Yes. I know you were. Your patients' lives will not be dependent on you. I have seen the reports from the Adjudicator. You are mediocre. All of you. And you will all do what I say when I say it.”

“Mediocre? Kriff, I knew your species was arrogant, but so much to call your entire crew mediocre? You're insane. Your entire species.”

“You will work in the psychological ward.”

“And I refuse... If you're doing this with everyone, you're damning this ship! No one will agree to this!”

“They will. Or they shall suffer the consequences. Everyone under my command should have proficiency in every field of medicine.”

“Yes, Praan, we do. But not mastery. Honestly, how do you think psychologists will handle being combat medics? It's been years since most of them have even practiced surgery. That's the first problem. What about the stress? From lack of practice, lack of experience, and stress from you?”

“Stress from me?”

“Yes! I don't know how much clearer I can make this! You are damning this ship with your procedures! We cannot perform the impossible!”

“When you've become as disillusioned as I have, you'll see my points.”

“Disillusioned? Why do you have to be disillusioned? My former Chief Medical Officer was not disillusioned and one of the best men I have ever known...”

“Then he was a fool. If this crew cannot achieve what I require, then I shall have a new one.”

“Is this what happened before, then? Your crew couldn't perform the impossible? You just dumped them all? That's just...”

The Arkanian suddenly jumped up, blaster pistol in hand. “Get out! Get out of my office!”

The Mon Calamari knew he had finally plucked a nerve. He stood up and slowly back away. “Rela-”

“-Get out!” The blaster pistol was now level with his head. He was finally at the door. He was groping for the handle... He found it and pushed the door open. He left quickly, never taking his eyes off of the Arkanian. As soon as he got into the hall, before the door shut, he saw a bolt of energy flash by and strike the wall...

Oh kriff... What have I done?

OOC:
WC: 1,136

AAR: Major dispute between Fishhead's new CMO and himself leads to an almost deadly encounter, possibly indicating psychological issues with Praan, the CMO
JC |MCPO Tosth “Fishhead” Aaaiser |ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt |FC |VEN | VE
TO | MCPO "Fishhead" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

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Tzism
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Tzism
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 9, 2013 10:25:51 PM    View the profile of Tzism 
"Battle stations, Battle stations!” the communication rang over the comms. Tzism quickly woke from his sleep, and jumped out of his bed, grabbing his uniform, and got changed as fast as he could. The ship was rattling a bit but nothing serious, he could hear some explosions happening from outside. There were fighter groups mobilized along with a armament of freighters to help in the fight. As soon as Tzism was ready he made his way out from the doorway of his quarters onto the ship deck flooring. He could spot some worker droids festering about, merely giving signals to each other or squabbling in tones of “beeps and boops”, finding this amusing he couldn't help laughing in his mind, after wards proceeding towards one of the turbo lift areas, there were other people headed the same direction. Looked like everyone was alert to the situation. This was also an opportunity for Tzism to meet some other crew members before he was to head into a battle situation. Stepping inside the turbo lift, there was a short pause before he noticed one of them press the button on the panel. The lift shot through the decks with amazing speed. Standing quietly, Tzism asked one of the crew next to him if they knew anything of the fight, but there was no answer, moments later a loud voice could be heard next to him “Yeah I hear we got some hostile activity, don’t know what to make of it, we got the call from the comms, its really strange, I guess we were either caught by surprise or command wants to keep us alert.” Nodding along with there reply, Tzism spoke “Interesting, we will have to see what it is, we cant make any assumptions, that would be plain awkward, however we can continue to build our knowledge of the situation as we get closer to the fight. Nice to meet you all, im from Jexxel squadron. I’m heading to my fighter as we speak, I wish you all luck.” As he made his reply to them, the turbo lift, touched down at the nearby deck area.

Walking out, he saw the other crewman make there way out from the lift and to there stations. Tzism then proceeded towards the hangar area, this took some time of course. He would pass by many personnel along the way, officers he would salute, and enlisted he would wave to. Some were more concerned with the mission rather, and quickly made it to there fighter designations. Arriving, Tzism put on his helmet to allow the view screen inside to show him his fighter amongst the many that were inside at the time, it was hard finding a fighter without it. One of them was lighted green inside the screen, that one being Tzism's, the others were red colored by the scanner inside. There actual color outside his helmet was a Grey/bluish tint, while the screen inside the cockpit was a see through glass material. After finding his fighter, Tzism walked through the crowd of people making there way to there own areas. Many of them were anxious as ever to get inside them, while others were cleaning there ships or adjusting some panels before the pre flight check. To Tzism, he wanted to jump inside his fighter and get adjusted as well as study the mission information before take off. He also needed some time to give his squadron commanders and flight leads his whereabouts before taking off. It was also possible they might have already been in the battle earlier. Time would tell and it was only a matter of a comm frequency. Grabbing the ladder, Tzism took each step before reaching his fighter, he pressed a button to allow the hatch to open and reveal the cockpit. After seeing this, he stepped down from the ladder that made its direction towards the inside of the fighter, and he sat down inside, pressing a few buttons, closed the hatch, and turned the power on. The fighter took some time to warm up, many of the screens began to flow with life from the engine.

After waiting a while, the fighter was now fully operational. There was data flowing across his panel. Many of it battle situation information, and ship status read outs. Pressing a few buttons, the fighter was unlocked from the safety harness and was now floating inside the hanger. Giving the joystick a movement to the side, the fighter flew from within the paragon then outside of the hangar bay and into open space. It was quiet, almost like there was no sound in sight. Tapping his comms, Tzism motioned to his squadron, and made a quick move to regroup with them while they were performing scans of the area. He also noticed some of the fighters were already engaged, but not in his squadron or that of the other squadron, they were either testers or drones. There were the first to engage, and some of them were being destroyed in space. This was a good tactic to bring out enemy targets and to learn of the enemy's staging or maneuvers. They appeared to stay in groups but not approach to fast, there numbers were many, and the strength they posed was not something to be idle about. Tzism kept to scanning the targets and reporting anything unfamiliar to intelligence as well as his command. There was a time to be a hero, this was not one of them. He needed to be careful as well as work in a team in order to make it out of this battle alive. Tzism also flew with the squadron, making his movements in sync, almost like the ship was in automatic pilot mode, but he wanted to keep in check with his comrades, as well as learn of the enemy advance. There was something about the enemy targets that Tzism, couldn’t quite put his mind on, but there was surely motive for their attack.

OOC:
WC: 1005

AAR: It was starting to look like a battle outside of the paragon, Tzism had awoken from his sleep, anxious to get in with the rest of his squadron. He proceeded towards his fighter and was out in space moments later to understand the battle.
FM | SCRW Tzism "Ronin" Ramzis | Silver 2 | S:46 Jexxel | W:101 Blade | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE [*IG*][*CO*][MC2][MiD][SoA][WM0]
Hades
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Hades
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 10, 2013 1:11:33 AM    View the profile of Hades 
"No, Commander. The Captain is busy," Ensign Grey repeated to the young Flight Leader coolly as he asked after the infamous Chief of Naval Intelligence, "You may contact him once you are out of the hyperspace field generated by Centrepoint Station."

"Not good enough," he shot back, gritting his teeth, "I need to speak with him. Not in a few weeks, now."

"Whatever urgent business you have may be relayed through me, Agent," the Ensign replied just as coolly as before, infuriatingly so, "there is a reason for the difference in our VENI statuses, Hades, a reason you are not yet of Grey-level clearance. Quite simply, the Captain trusts me implicitly to do my duty to a higher level of efficiency than you and as such, you are obliged to acknowledge my authority. I say again, whatever you need of Captain Grey may be relayed through me."

"You're walking a fine line, Ensign,"  Hades warned coldly.

"As are you, Commander. Try and remember which one of us is a Grey," there was a pause as the Ensign let his words sink in, "in case you held any misconceptions, it's not you."

The channel went dead, causing a prompt clenching of Hades' fist. Here was a man used to getting most everything he wanted, and he had just been told no. Perhaps he was a little spoiled, self-righteous, even arrogant - but Grey knew all that and had picked him all the same. The flight leader exhaled slowly, utilising a mental calming technique that some annoying psychologist or other had shown him in one of his mandatory debriefings. The last one had been after his return from capture; the officer in charge at the time had thought Hades unstable and so sentenced him to a session with a psychologist. Hades was a reasonable man, so he saw the merit in such a thing - of course, that reason didn't extend to pulling a few strings so the offending officer was now stationed back at the Cappadocious.

Yes, very reasonable. Charming too! Standing from the metal chair he had been seated in, Demetrius keyed the activation for the privacy booth - normally used to contact loved ones or the like when on a tour of duty. The door slid open with a subtle hiss - akin to a viper coiling for a strike - allowing Hades to pace out of the room and glance up and down the corridor. It was quiet; there was no-one in sight, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite the size of the Paragon's crew, there were a number of places you could be alone. Unlike a smaller ship...

Alarms cut through the relative peace, at first making Hades think it was a drill. The next words, however, dispelled the illusion. "All hands to battle stations, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

Great, Hades thought.

----

Although he had been fairly distant from Jexxel's designated hangar bay, Hades still managed to get there before the rest of the squadron. He was changed and ready to go in just moments, a result of the endless drills that Zail had put them through. Mayhap it was also a result of his extensive training, but either way Hades knew he was ready. Instead of waiting around, he climbed into his fighter and began running diagnostics checks, something entirely unnecessary as the Commander knew that his fighter was in tip top shape - he knew because he had checked just hours ago and, unless someone had sabotaged it, he knew it would be in exactly the same state he had left it. As the lights all came back green on the Interceptor MK-II, he knew that sabotage was out of the question.

A semi-legal modification to his sensor equipment had added both a hull and internal scanner, designed especially by the folks back at the Fortress to detect any abnormalities on the hull or within the fighter and its software. An counter-sabotage suite, per se. The Commander made a mental note to have some additional Electronic Warfare components added in. The draw from his power supply would be minimal, especially as he liked to the beef up the engines with small power cells - like reserve batteries that each fed a little bit of their power into the fighter's reactor, they maintained energy levels efficiently. The downside of this was that Hades had less space within the cockpit. Comfort, however, was always second to efficiency - and by no means could his customized fighter be considered inefficient. Perhaps when compared to a Defender, but that was unlikely.

Satisfied with the checks, Hades hauled himself up and out of the cockpit, ascending the ladder and scanning the hangar bay, eyes soon alighting on a dozen or so black-clad TIE pilots, Makenna included. He straightened his posture, helmet under his arm and legs together as the Squadron Commander came within speaking range. "Commander," He greeted, glancing past her as the rest of the squadron filed through to their fighters.

"Commander," she greeted in return. It was rather comical, really, to have a Lieutenant Commander serving a Squadron Commander. Said situation involved a lot of exchanges using the word 'commander'. A small quirk of the Flight Leader's lips showed his amusement despite the earlier annoyance at Ensign Grey, "get your flight ready. I want to be out of this hangar in less than five minutes at the very most."

She sounded tired, he noted. Maybe tired of command, tired of the hardships it brought on. His brow creased slightly; Hades may not have been the most obedient of squadron members, but even if he seemed apathetic - he was far from it. "Acknowledged, Chief. Cresh Flight will be ready."

She nodded, not meeting his gaze as she turned to walk away. He let his gaze linger - perhaps improperly so - before turning away himself and climbing back down into his fighter. "Cresh flight, radio check, over."

"Cresh two reading you loud and clear, over."

"Cresh three here; got you loud and clear, sir. Over,"

"Cresh four acknowledges."

Hades nodded appreciatively to himself. "All systems green, Cresh. Wait for the Chief's go."

"Roger that," they replied in unison.

"Jexxel, this isn't a drill." Makenna's voice broke through the checks, "this is the real thing. We've trained for this, we are ready for this - don't let the Captain down."

By the Captain, Hades presumed she meant Zail. Her words were no doubt reassuring to the rest of the squadron, though to Hades they also sounded partly like she was trying to reassure herself.

"Jexxel, on me." And with that Makenna's fighter released from its position, hovering for a moment before shooting out of the bay, followed shortly by the rest of the Interceptor MKII's. The formation they maintained was far from sloppy - again, due to practice in numerous drills. "We've got to clear a path for our transports, Jexxel. You know what to do."

Hades didn't bother replying, instead clicking his comm as acknowledgement. Graff did the same, while the rest of Jexxel answered with words. At first he didn't notice, but after a while it hit home - a click of the comm was something used by special forces and intelligence operatives more often than anyone else. Sure, it could be improvised by fighter pilots and the like, but it was very rare for it to be used without prior use elsewhere... It could have very well been a coincidence, but the alarm bells in Hades' mind were going off - even the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. He had been right to be suspicious of Graff. Makenna, though, could never know.

"Cresh flight, on me. Stay tight, protect your wingman's six and pick your targets carefully. I don't want anyone dying because they made a mistake." It may have sounded harsh, but Hades' personal code became less and less about justice, everyday becoming more about cold, inhuman efficiency. Cresh flight acknowledged and in the background, he could hear Besh and Aurek doing similar things.

"X-wings at your ten-o'clock sir," came the voice of Hades' wingman, Graff.

"I see them. Cresh, keep your course. Let them come to us; break and roll as soon as they get close."

"Affirmative Cresh lead."

"Hades," Makenna said on a private channel, "We've got three flights of X-Wings converging on us."

"I know," he answered, equally informal, "Cresh will take the ten-o'clock. I recommend besh take the flight at 2-o'clock and Aurek the bogeys at 12."

"Alright," she answered cautiously, as if wary of following Hades' instructions. After all, she was the boss - not him. "I want you to assist Besh once you're done with your group."

Hades paused, "why?"

"Just do it, Hades," Makenna answered sharply.

"Affirmative," he replied calmly, knowing better than to start an argument.

"I don't want to lose any pilots today." She stated simply. Hades paused, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll do my best not to die, Commander," he remarked dryly, "Cresh lead out."

He severed the channel before she could say anything else. Closing his eyes for a brief second, Hades exhaled in a relaxed manner. When he opened his eyes again, they returned to the sensors which showed the X-wings fast approaching. A smile crept across his face, green eyes twinkling with anticipation of the battle to come - it had been too long.

Then he started whistling happily.

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,594. Some CD and progression.

AAR: Hades gets into an argument with Ensign Grey, wanting to speak to the Captain. Alarms sound and Hades gets ready for battle, after a short exchange with Avalar it is clear that Lt. Commander Demetrius Aita is quite eager for battle

Time to kick some proverbial rear ends.

Lieutenant Commander Demetrius 'Hades' Aita

FL | LCDR Hades | Silver 9 | S:46 "Jexxel" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

MS | LCDR Hades | LCR Duty | TF:T | ?Flt | VENA | VEN | VE

[*IG*][LoM] [DSM] [NSR] [VC:B] [VC:S] [MC:1] [MC:2] [CBV] [CAR] [MiD]
[HNS] [1NS] [BRC] [BWC] [SWC] [GWC] [CNQST] [CC:4]
[*SWC*] [*FOCE*] [^TG^]
Norsedragoon
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 11, 2013 7:01:21 PM    View the profile of Norsedragoon 
Einarr examined the sensor map as he worked the spanner inside the probe droid to finish the last modifications, the projection on the inside of his mask linked through a backdoor channel into the feed of the ISD Paragon through a modified mouse droid linked in through a hardwired connection in a spliced feed wire. The details were not as good as they might have been but they would be enough, he set this probe droid to launch with the previous 2 he had already completed modifying to act as relays shortly after the last of Jexxel launched. They would be tied into his IFF tag to be specific, upon launching they would accelerate to full then cut power in a ballistic trajectory to avoid detection as they made for the second Defensive station. If all went to plan they would easily slip inside the defenders inner arc before attaching themselves and acting as relays for both the Paragons EW department as well as Cassius's own purposes. The droids were preloaded with a dumbed down copy of Cassius AI and would with luck be able to inject themselves into the stations programming to wreak havoc giving the ships and fighters of the mighty VE fleet time to punch a hole and either take or decimate the station.

As he removed his tool and closed the panel the klaxon howl of General Quarters sounded, it was time to get to his fighter. He only hoped the mammals that made up the bulk of the fleet would be able to adapt on the fly when these new toys started their broadcast. As an after thought he appended a report of his actions here to be transmitted internally to the bridge as soon as the droids went active. No sense in notifying them now incase they did not make it through, but if they did and one of those Correlian thugs got in a lucky shot Einarr did not want his efforts here to be wasted.

He made the crew bay of the Paragon in record time, slipping free of his uniform with care to leave it unruffled before strapping into the newly modified flight suit, the heavy material form fitting to his flat black bodysuit. With a glance around the bay at the other pilots swiftly preparing for the coming battle he ducked his head into his locker as he removed the Helmet and mask to replace them with his flight helmet and mask, locking the hoses and lines into the life support feeds and monitors on his chest plate. He shuddered as the data jacks in the back of his helmet slipped cleanly into the ports of the Central node at the base of his neck, the electric thrill of up-link an electronic caress on his nervous system. He strapped his gun belt on, the matched DC-15c pistols hanging for a moment at his hip before he locked the clasps that would secure the bottom of the holsters to his thigh, next came the shortened blades in their scabbards built carefully into the back of his suit, the length of them running along the series of nodes along the length of his spine leaving a bare few inches of  grip over either shoulder. If he was downed again, he was content to die with honor rather than be captured again to spend months or years in some New Republic camp and the degradations they perpetrate not from malice but from bureaucracy.

His hands roamed over his suit one final time checking the fittings, clasps, seals, and lines as he watched his fellows turn for their fighters, then silently he turned to follow keeping his pace to a stately fast walk rather than the loping run these primates turned warriors preferred, he could after all not be seen rushing as if overly excited in front of a race that spent so much energy on a seeming superiority.

Kaja was just finishing the last checks on his TIE/IN MKII and Einarr calmly came to attention and gave the Togruta tech a crisp salute in thanks for the care she had shown his fighter. He knew it would be good to go when he launched, the slight bulge of a secondary communications bundle barely noticeable hidden under the port stabilizer under the join where the frame met the solar array wing. Kaja moved off to prepare another fighter on her list for the coming battle as Einarr descended the boarding ladder to the cockpit, his form sinking into the seat before hands long grown accustomed to the process locked in the harness, secured the acceleration harness around his lower body and legs, and plugged his life support control board into the fighters systems. His mechanical right hand swiftly moved over the preflight order, generator active and at start up output, grav coils building power, chambers pressurized and ready for his Ion engines to go live upon reaching the vast emptiness of space, all reads showing green as the shields and weapons feed lines and generators sent out their primary status queries inside the ships systems before waking to life. A moment later with all systems active and ready he watched as the first of Jexxel launched their swift arrow winged fighters into the darkness waiting quietly for his turn in the launch order. As Besh 1 released from the clamps and streaked into space on the cushion of the craft repulsor field, Einarr felt his own crafts clamps release before he turned to follow.

“Besh 2 cleared hangar, proceeding to formation position.” His voice sounded cold in the empty confines of his helmet as he keyed in the sequence that brought his shields to full and added a little extra oomph to his IFF beacon for a few moments, his fighter swapping over from repuslor field to Ion engines as they left both the gravitic effect and minimum safe distance from the ship itself imparting greater speed to his craft. A few heartbeats later he watched his sensors as a trio of probe droid pods released from Paragon, their shapes streaking off in a flash of  power as they streaked to maximum acceleration before releasing their payload on a ballistic course, the empty pods trailing after the hurtling droids as the droids lit their own engines in a secondary burn. A smile graced his scarred lips as he took up position on Besh 1's wing position, the lead craft setting the path as the flight formed a protective shell around their charges for this first part of the battle. He watched the sensors calmly as the Cresh split to engage the first of the X-wings to come in, adjusting formation slightly to prevent any stray shots from penetrating through to hit the transports as he waited for orders.


OOC:
Word Count:1135
AAR: Einarr prepares a surprise for the defenders before launching with the rest of Jexxel flight.
FM/CPO/Einarr "Norsedragoon" Ghylthir/Besh 2/S:46 Jexxel/W:101 Blade/ISD Paragon /TF:A/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[MC1] [MC2] [SoA] [IG]  (=^Eng^=) {AFM} {Astr} {VehM} {SfrM} {Gunn} {GrAt} {XenMA}
Hades
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Hades
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 12, 2013 5:04:57 AM    View the profile of Hades 
Flashes of superheated laser lanced through space, tearing the blackness of it asunder. Reds and greens decorated the vast abyss in a surprisingly beautiful display of complete and utter murderous intent/ One might have argued that the intentions were not murderous, merely military - but both sides were aiming to destroy the other for their own means and to Hades, that was murderous. Murderous as it may have been, it was all second nature to the Lieutenant Commander - the slight twitch of the controls under his gloved hands, the ease with which the Interceptor MK-II rolled and banked, the deadly beauty of the emerald lasers that spat from his wing-mounted cannons... "Cresh lead, bogey on your six," it was Graff. Every time he heard the man's voice, distrust shot through his veins quicker than adrenaline, like a cold knife slicing into his thoughts. Checking his sensors, though, Hades saw that the man was correct. Sloppy, he chastised himself inwardly.

"I see him," the flight leader answered his wingman. From his sensors, Graff was some distance behind Hades, though with an X-wing of his own to contend with. Cresh three and four were in a similar situation - Hades was on his own for now, "try and draw your friend there toward me. See if we can't do a head-on pass."

"Affirmative, Hades," Crim acknowledged. Hades swerved his fighter left and right, the lock that had previously blared through his cockpit's speakers now fading. While the X-Wings had shields and quadruple laser cannons, not to mention ordnance launchers, the Interceptors were far faster and more manoeuvrable than the Republic's most numerous fighter asset. Facing the Corellians, though, Hades was sure they'd come up against an eclectic mix of hostile forces. The briefings from both the SFC and VENI had said similar things, so Demetrius wasn't going to be surprised if he saw a diverse range of hardware arrayed against the VE. Nudging his throttle upward, he began to pull away from the X-Wing, though he didn't set it to  max just yet -- he wanted the X-Wing to believe it had a chance of catching him. Sure enough, the X-Wing sped up too, now relying on full throttle to pursue the faster TIE fighter. A small smile threatened to curl his lips, tugging at the side of his mouth insistently - but it wasn't over yet. Before he got too far from the X-Wing behind him, the flight leader drastically decreased his throttle and slammed his fighter into a tight barrel roll to the left.

Lasers slammed into his port-side solar array, fizzling against his shields. For a moment he feared he had executed the manoeuvre too early, but the sight of an X-Wing whipping past him on the left assured him he hadn't... Increasing his throttle again, Hades let off a short, stuttered burst of laser fire which splattered against the aft shields of the four-winged enemy craft. He let off a second volley, waiting until the X-Wing began to break before breaking himself, coming around in a tight circle to the left and increasing speed so that he began to shoot away from the still-turning X-Wing. "Heading your way now, Graff," he informed over the comm, glancing to his sensors as red laser once again lanced past the right-hand side of his fighter. From the readouts, he could see Graff had managed to pull a similar manoeuvre to Hades - though he had been behind his assailant, he could have finished him off then. Why had Hades chosen to still go ahead with the head-on move? To tell the truth, Hades himself still didn't know. It was that kind of move that had a number of reasons, one of which you chose at the last second, often changing the desired end drastically and unexpectedly. It wasn't surprising that Hades did something unexpected, though - he thrived off unpredictability, albeit only of himself.

"Go left on my mark," said Hades, signaling Graff yet again. A click came in response and despite the immersion in battle, he could not still the disquiet he felt about his own wingman - and that wasn't a good sign. Your wingman held your life in his hands more often than not, without trust you could never reach your maximum efficiency in the cockpit. The counter clicked down, informing Hades of the distance between the two TIE fighters as he eased back on the throttle some to allow his pursuer to gain some distance, though not enough to get an easy shot on him. He thumbed his ordnance launcher, firing a missile directly at his wingman, deadly warhead zipping through space with a lethal purpose. Closer, closer and closer still, so close that it looked as if Hades' original target wasn't the X-Wing. He gritted his teeth and exhaled finally, "Mark."

Not a second too late, Graff twitched his controls and sent his Interceptor skimming past the missile's right side, easily - but narrowly - avoiding the unguided ordnance. The X-Wing behind him didn't have a chance. Unlike Hades, Graff hadn't pulled away from his pursuer, allowing his shields to take a number of hits so that when the time came, the X-Wing behind would be caught unawares.  The missile slammed into the X-Wing's starboard S-foils, even as the explosion eclipsed Hades' view of the enemy craft, he thumbed his laser cannons and opened fire... Had the X-Wing come through that in one piece, Hades would have been done for. Thankfully, it didn't and now all Hades had to worry about was the one behind him... Breaking left now, the pilot increased his throttle to begin pulling away from the decently-trained pilot behind him. "He's all yours, Cresh 2."

Hades and Graff had both broken left when they did so, meaning Graff went to Hades' right while Hades went to Graff's right, too. They had been traveling in opposite directions until Graff pulled his fighter into a tight loop and came around, shooting forward with the engines that made these craft so damned fast. Before long, the X-Wing was in his sights... Realising what was happening, Hades' pursuer broke off and began twisting and turning wildly, trying to shake Graff's sights. The hunter had now become the hunted, though Hades disputed ever being the hunted. He too came around, just in time to see a continuous barrage of bright green energy wither away at the enemy X-Wing's rear shields and tear through its engines, destroying the pilot and his astromech companion almost instantly. "Bogey down," Graff stated simply.

"Good shooting, Graff," he replied, checking his sensors once again.

"Sir, Cresh three and four on your six." It was the voice of Cresh three, meaning the two of them had destroyed their targets with little-no complications. Eyeing the squadron readouts, he saw that they had indeed taken no damage. His brow raised slightly in surprise, though he was glad it had turned out that way.

"Besh lead, this is Cresh lead. XO, what's your status?" Hades didn't wait for an answer, angling his Interceptor toward where Besh had broken off.

"A little busy, Commander," Maroy replied tightly, "but we're fine."

"Acknowledged. On my way," Hades cut the channel before Maroy could answer with an order not to. His sensors told him that Besh flight was doing well, though still locked in combat with the four X-Wings that they had engaged. "Cresh three, Cresh four, break off and attach to Aurek flight while we assist Besh. They may need assistance."

"Roger that sir," Mundi's voice came back, and two of Cresh flight broke off toward where he could see Makenna's fighter still locked in combat against an X-Wing on his sensors.

"Cresh two, stay close." Another click. I wish he wouldn't do that, Hades thought. Every time he did, it made Hades' disquiet only increase. He caught sight of an X-Wing gunning for someone - readouts designated it as Besh three - and the leader of Cresh flight set his sights on the Corellian craft, increasing speed until he was almost at maximum throttle. Besh three and his pursuer shot past Hades' viewscreen from right to left, allowing the most senior ranked Jexxel pilot to bank and follow the two, decreasing throttle to match the X-wing once he was within range. He thumbed his laser cannons again, firing a stream of bolts at the enemy craft. Said craft broke almost immediately, a desperate attempt at shaking Hades... He was outnumbered three to one now, each of the three craft had faster speeds and higher manoeuvrability than he did - he had no chance.

Hades could give him credit for the skill with which he handled an inferior craft, though - he managed to stay out of the officer's sights for longer than he considered the 'norm' from his past engagements with X-Wing. Before too long, though, the X-Wing broke just a little too slowly and emerald laser beams ripped into the hull, tracing a line through the starboard S-Foils and across the engine compartment. The resulting explosion was a little disappointing, Hades thought as he pulled up. "Jexxel, we've got incoming... Not sure what they are, but there are lot of them heading our way. Form up."

Checking his readouts, Hades saw she wasn't joking.. Two squadrons worth of inverted 'v' shaped fighters were heading their way at considerable speed. Hades thought back on the books about starfighters he had read... "Looks like someone didn't like us atomising their vanguard," Hades answered, "those are Corellian built A-9 Interceptors."

"Should we be worried?" Maroy asked as Hades guided his fighter back toward Aurek flight.

"They're fast,  but they haven't got shields." He answered tentatively, "heavy laser cannons, so don't let them get you in their sights else your shields will disappear in a flash."

Maroy didn't have time to respond, as Makenna's voice came over the comm. "Paragon, this is Jexxel lead. Requesting support - we have two squadrons of A-9 Interceptors heading our way, over."

Hades gritted his teeth. It was the smart thing to do, but then again who wanted to do the smart thing? He tuned out of the conversation, instead gliding past Aurek flight slowly as he surveiled the gathered forces in the distance. "No time," he said to Makenna over the comm, "they'll reach us before any help can," then, switching to Jexxel's squadron frequency, "buckle up, Jexxel. Fast movers approaching."

There was a pause as no-one seemed quite sure what to do, "you heard Cresh Lead," Makenna's voice, "watch your wingman and don't let them get behind you. We can do this, Jexxel."

"If you say so," Hades muttered under his breath, "Cresh, form up. Might want to hold on to your hats."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mundi queried, causing an exasperated sigh to come from Hades.

"Just... be ready."

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,815

AAR: Jexxel dispatches of the first squadron of X-Wings, with Hades being as bristly as ever to both his SCO and SXO. After finishing up the first opponents, someone in the Corellian lines has obviously noticed the destruction of an entire squadron and sends two squadrons of A-9 Vigilance Interceptors, fast, powerful but weakly armored craft designed to match the Rebellion's A-Wing. Makenna radios for backup, but Jexxel soon realises that the A-9's will be on them before any help can arrive.

Lock and load, Jexxel

Lieutenant Commander Demetrius 'Hades' Aita

FL | LCDR Hades | Silver 9 | S:46 "Jexxel" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

MS | LCDR Hades | LCR Duty | TF:T | ?Flt | VENA | VEN | VE

[*IG*] [*AO*] [LoM] [DSM] [NSR] [VC:B] [VC:S] [MC:1] [MC:2] [CBV] [CAR]
[MiD] [HNS] [1NS] [BRC] [BWC] [SWC] [GWC] [CNQST] [CC:4]
[*SWC*] [*FOCE*] [^TG^]
Grey
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 18, 2013 10:55:18 AM    View the profile of Grey 
There was a difference between cowardice and patience; a fine line that could be crossed all too easily. But Agent Malakar Syllis of the VENI could see the line all too well and, while it was fast approaching, he knew better than to ever cross it. He had to bide his time, else he would risk being discovered preemptively and that would nullify the years he had been undercover within the Corellian forces. First he had served as a lowly pilot in the planetary defense fleet, but he had clawed his way through the ranks to fleet command. Not a captaincy, no, but he was high enough to make the difference he needed to make.

The executive officer of the cruiser that sat now in the middle of the Corellian fleet that engaged the VE's Second Fleet, Syllis had a large amount of influence over his colleagues on the bridge. "Captain," he began, addressing the Corellian Captain that sat watching the battle from his comfortable chair, "the Vast Empire's fleet outnumbers and outguns us. With all due respect, this objective was never going to see success."

"Commander Sully, with all due respect to you," the arrogant Captain answered, "please retain the sentimental jawa poodoo for the ladies' refresher."

"Sir." Syllis - undercover as Sully - answered curtly in acknowledgement, though his jaw stiffened slightly at the easy dismissal of his suggestion. Tapping a key on his wrist-mounted datapad, Sully began a coded transmission back to Corellia. His handler was stationed there, so with an encrypted message that was supposedly meant for his wife, Sully would be sending him live updates from the bridge of the flagship, which would be relayed constantly back to Ensign Grey. It wasn't exactly a perfect system of knowing what the enemy was up to, but it was certainly better than nothing. Every minute he was aboard this ship, Sully was more and more sure of his work for VENI - the arrogant Captain proved exactly why he no longer wanted a part in his homeworld's pro-rebel stance.

A light flashed green on his datapad, letting him know that the transmission was received and acknowledged. He disabled the display, allowing the clear screen to go dark while he looked back to the battle read-outs. "Tell Wing Commander Orik to tighten his formations," Sully called out to the comm officer, "his squadrons are spread too thin to do any real damage."

"Aye Commander," answered the man at the comm console. While he might have been an agent of VENI, he had to be convincing at his job - and he had only risen this far because he was actually good at it. Everyone knew that he was the intellect behind the flagship's strategy - the Captain was merely a figurehead. He could feel the gaze of that figurehead boring into the back of his skull as he surveyed Orik's lines now tightening. He knew the Captain didn't like him and, quite honestly... he didn't care.

------

Static tore through the transmission sporadically, making it seem as if it originated from a long way off - or a place there was some kind of electro-magnetic interference, albeit weak. Ensign Grey knew, however, that it was neither - these transmissions from Captain Grey helped to keep his identity a secret and only the latest in masking techniques were utilized by the secretive commandant of the Navy's Intelligence branch. "Captain, sir," Ensign Grey saluted by force of habit as the transmission appeared in his office. "I was not expecting to hear from you this soon."

"I am aware, Ensign," he replied, though the distortion of the voice made it hard to identify any emotion - indeed, any tone whatsoever - in the Captain's speech. "What reports from the Second Fleet?"

"They've engaged the enemy, sir. The first Golan is entirely active while the second is offline," the executive officer of VENI answered him. "Our troop transports should hit the Golan before it does any significant damage, but-"

"-you doubt their efficiency."

"Well sir, the only way to be entirely certain of our success is to send some of our own-"

"-if you have no faith in your allies to succeed, Ensign, why make them your allies?" It was a sharp reply from a sharp mind, and the Ensign was without words for a brief second.

"Is it wise to trust them without doubt?"

"Trust and faith are separate issues, Ensign. Have faith in their success and distrust in their loyalty." At these words, the Ensign frowned, inwardly wondering if the Captain was really contradicting himself.

"Isn't that counter-intuitive, sir?"

"Not at all. They are pursuing goals, incidentally goals that we share. These goals are both theirs and ours, so they will accomplish them with a sound conscience, thinking they are serving themselves while at the same time they are serving us. Have faith in their success, but that success does not imply loyalty. Trust that they will serve their goals over ours." A hiss of static interrupted the transmission - real static this time, as opposed to the distortion of anonymity, "but you know all this, Ensign. I did not call to discuss allies in the business of espionage."

"Yes sir, I understand. My apologies," Ensign Grey liked to learn - a lot - and this meant that from time to time, he got carried away in the pursuit of bettering his understanding. "It appears the battle is going well so far. Our asset in the SFC may be up against some harsh odds, but.." He dragged a finger over the holographic display, bringing up the location of the VE's deployed squadrons, "knowing his record, he'll be alright."

"Any transmissions to indicate deserters or traitors?"

"Chatter indicates that there has been a high-level 'disagreement' among the Corellians, sir. Might be as much as a desertion of a senior officer, but it could also be a simple fallout of their upper echelon over certain tactics."

"I don't want 'mights' or 'coulds', Ensign, I want facts." Grey replied shortly, "get to the bottom of this."

"Yes sir," Ensign Grey acknowledged, before continuing, "on our side of things, there have been no transmissions to indicate treachery or desertion thus far. After the example made of the fleet command traitor, I don't believe anyone else is game enough to try anything. Not yet, at least."

"And is your team in place?" Captain Grey quizzed, without so much as an opinion on the former matter. Ensign Grey looked at a screen next to the one he was currently manipulating, displaying several camera feeds from the safehouse.

"Yes sir. We're ready."

"Good. It is essential that you are prepared, but remember: if you act preemptively, you may spark the very thing that this is aimed at preventing. If that occurs, this will be on your head and your team will be disavowed as war criminals."

Ensign Grey swallowed and nodded, though he knew the Captain could not see him. "Very well, sir," he replied, "we won't fail."

"No," Grey said after a pause, "You won't. Grey out."

And the line went dead. It was about this moment that Ensign Grey realised - truly realised - what was at stake here. He had known the stakes were high on this mission and that failure would come at a significant cost, but he didn't think that cost would be from his own CO. After a few moments of thinking and silent observation of the ongoing battle around the Second Fleet, Ensign Grey made a decision.

"Rycian," Ensign Grey addressed one of his team through his throat-mounted comm unit, "Get up here. I want to run through a few infil-exfil strategies for the targets."

"Roger that, Ensign," Rycian answered, "on my way."

OOC:
WC: 1295

AAR: Enter Malakar Syllis, alias 'Commander Addroc Sully', executive officer of the Corellian flagship and agent for VENI.

Captain Grey teaches Ensign Grey a valuable lesson while the two discuss current events.
[This message has been edited by Grey (edited December 18, 2013 10:59:01 AM)]
Gurlanin
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 18, 2013 11:55:28 AM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Malachi Fa'alson was not a popular Wing Commander. He certainly wasn't the best, either. The male Falleen was average height for his species, with black hair tied back into a long, thin, ponytail. His harsh, piercing, yellow eyes unnerved most that had the misfortune to gaze into them. Were it not for the pheremones that the man could produce, it was unlikely he would ever have risen in rank and position. His former commanding officers found him unpleasant and described him as having, much like the rest of his species, an arrogant sense of superiority over everyone else, especially humans. No one could deny that he was incredibly clever, however, as his tactical plans were often the most efficient, and the most effective. Yet he never considered the cost of life. The Falleen's casualty ratings were high: higher than any other Wing Commander had ever reached in the same timeframe.

The man was dangerous.

In his time as Commanding Officer of Strill Squadron, Grent had only come into contact with Fa'alson once, and even that was only through holo channels. His counterpart in Jexxel, the woman who had welcomed him in so graciously at the start of his career, had had several meetings with him. Makenna struggled with her thoughts about the Falleen Lieutenant. When she was with him, talking with him, and discussing Jexxel's role in whatever upcoming battle may come, she could not help but agree with everything he said. It made sense when he said, but once she had left his presence, the confused SCO wondered what on earth possessed her to agree with the Falleen's ridiculous decisions. As such, she was glad that it was only Grent coming to the meeting that Blade Wing Commander had convened on the eve of the upcoming battle, and not Joamer: one pheromone induced distraction was more than enough, without adding the complicated relationship between her and Joamer into the mix.
The young Mandalorian in charge of Strill left his office with two of his three companions: HK and his ever loyal strill, Tracyn. His other droid, the astromech, had other tasks to attend to, such as filling in mundane reports that neither Grent nor Joamer felt like doing with battle so close. The trio made their way down the hallway, the assassin droid doing his best to inform his master on the best way to dispatch Falleen.

"Statement: In short, master, I would ask that you let me do the killing if it needs to be done," said the droid, after he had listed off the many strengths and weaknesses of the Falleen species, including their pheromone producing glands.
"Are you saying that I'm incapable?" inquired Grent.
"Soothing compliment: Not at all, master. You are more than capable of dispatching any foe that has the misfortune of crossing your path. Addendum: What I meant, master, was that, as a droid, I am immune to any and all organic forms of mind altering. This means that I would be at an advantage over your ..." the droid trailed off.
"Over my?" prompted the Mandalorian.
#1: Cheese? Bacon? Nerfburger?
#2: Food? Really?
#1: Well one of us has to think about it...
"Unsure response: Master, I ... well ... it's just that you've got all these squishy bits ... and the water ... I don't know how the constant sloshing around doesn't drive you mad."
"Neither do I, come to think of it," said Grent, wondering if hearing voices in one's head counted as being mad.
#2: It certainly doesn't count as being sane.
#1: You could go to the mess, and have something to eat! That's a sane thing to do. Besides, I hear they're serving some lovely roast ...
#2: Shut up about the food ...

The Squadron Commanding Officer of Strill Squadron firmly knocked on the door of the briefing room, and walked in. The first thing he noticed was the slightly sweeter fragrance of the air in the small, circular room. Immediately he knew that it was the pheromones, due to the fact that his perception of what was right and wrong were suddenly thrown up in the air, as if some imaginary juggler had borrowed them for his act. The second thing Grent noticed, was that Makenna was already in the room, looking at something behind the door Grent had just walked through, with ... was that awe? Admiration? It was the same look a teenage girl would give her idol, and certainly not an expression anyone who knew Makenna would expect to see on her face. Grent turned around, following the Jexxel Commander's gaze, and came face to face with the man himself: Malachi Fa'alson, Lieutenant of the Vast Empire's Navy, Commander of Blade Wing, and generally a pain in the backside, according to most accounts. Grent saluted smartly, coming to attention with a quiet "Sir!".

"Welcome, Chief. We were beginning to think that you had," the Falleen looked at Makenna with a wicked grin, "lost your way." Makenna giggled slightly. She truly was under the effects of the pheromones.
Grent nodded, and, though he already had every intention of sitting down, now felt compelled to do so. However, as he made his was to his seat, HK and Tracyn entered the room. The affect was immediate, though subtle. Makenna's facial expression slowly became more stern, and her eyes started to look around the room, as if they were no longer compelled to find the very soul of Malachi. Grent, himself, no longer felt compelled to do whatever the Wing Commander asked of him. The sickly sweet fragrance in the air, slowly started to dissipate. The reason soon became clear: the Falleen Wing Commander was clutching his nose, and seemingly gasping for air.

"What is that ... that stench?!" cried the man.
It dawned on Makenna quicker than it dawned on Grent. "Tracyn," she said quietly to the strill as it plodded over to the pair, it's tail wagging happily, "Who's a good strill, eh?" The woman ruffled the neither male nor female hunting animal's fur, and answered Grent's quizzical look, "The smell! The lieutenant's probably never smelt it before!"

Of course! Grent couldn't smell it anymore, because he had lived with it for so long, but strills gave off an incredible odour. For some, currently unknown reason, women could not smell it, but to someone who had never smelled it before, it was worse than Bantha fodder. Apparently, it was also enough to throw the Falleen off producing his vile pheromones.

"Chief Petty Officer, you will take that ... that thing out of this room right now!" screamed the Wing Commander, still holding his nose.
Grent glanced at Makenna, who winked back at him, a sly smile on her face, before answering, "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. What thing? You mean the droid?"
"That animal you have brought with you!" cried the Falleen, "I demand that you..."
"What's going on here?" came a new voice from the doorway, as Commander Zail entered the room, nose twitching, followed by the rest of the fighter squadron commanders. Makenna and Grent immediately stood, and came to attention. The Wing Commander, however, was still too busy trying to get a breath of fresh air to give the proper respect to his senior.
"I had just given Chief Notimo here an order, which he was refusing to follow," complained Fa'alson.
"And just what order was that?" asked Zail, looking at Grent.
"I was just trying to find out, sir. The Lieutenant was quite vagu-.." began the Mandalorian.
"I was perfectly clear about that animal you insist on-..." interrupted Fa'alson.
"Enough!" said Zail, raising his voice, "I will not have this bickering on my ship." The man who had once been Captain Grey looked at the Wing Commander, and asked, "Lieutenant, has the strill attacked you?"
"No, but..."
"Is it posing any threat to the safety of the crew of my ship?"
"No, but I..."
Zail held up his hand, and turned to Grent, "Chief, are you in control of your pet?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you keep it by your side and away from the Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right, that's settled then. You may begin your briefing, Mr. Fa'alson," said Zail, sitting down a little behind from where the squadron commanders sat.
"Yes, sir," said Fa'alson through gritted teeth.

The next hour and a half was one of the worst briefings Fa'alson had ever given. The repugnant odour of the strill, whilst originally just distracting the Falleen, now actively counteracted the effect of the pheromones that he was managing to produce. As such, every aspect of the man's carefully laid plans were scrutinised mercilessly by every member present. Finally, however, Fa'alson managed to regain his composition.

"As I was saying," the Wing Commander said, "Chlovi will take point ahead of the first group of transport shuttles. Once the second group has launched, Strill will cover their port side, and Jexxel their starboard. The third and final group will be covered from the rear by my squadron. Any questions?"

Makenna and Grent raised their hands simultaneously.

"So you're saying that Jexxel and Strill are going to be supporting?" asked the young woman.
"And that Chlovi are going to be leading?" added Grent, who then looked at Chlovi's SCO, "No offence to your squadron."
"None taken," came the reply, "I'm as surprised as you are."
"This is correct," answered Lieutenant Fa'alson, a smug smile on his green skinned face.
"So Chlovi are going to face the frontal assault? Alone?"
"They'll stand no chance against one or more elite squadron!"
"At least send Vornskr in front instead."
"No. This is my plan, as approved by the Commander. Dismissed."
The group, minus Commander Zail, all stood sharply, and snapped to attention, pausing briefly, before collecting up their belongings and heading off out of the door. As they did so, Grent mumbled to Makenna, "I don't doubt that it was approved by the Commander, but under the influence of how many pheromones?"
"How many what?" asked Jexxel's SCO.
Before the Mandalorian could respond, Zail's voice echoed from behind him, "Chief, if I might have a word in private?"
"Of course, sir."

Zail led the youngest Squadron Commanding Officer to an adjacent briefing room, HK and Tracyn trailing behind. The older man did not look pleased.

"What do you think you are doing, Chief Petty Officer Notimo? Are you implying to other members of this ship's company that I am incompetent?" shouted Zail.
"What? No, sir, of course not, I..."
"Then what was that you were saying about my being influenced?"
"Pheromones, sir. Falleen can produce large amounts of them to influence others," replied Grent.
"I am well aware of that fact, Chief," said Zail, no longer shouting, "And Lieutenant Fa'alson has signed a document stating that he will not use them on any member of the military, especially superior officers."
"Sir, I believe he has been using them on everyone for a long time."
Zail straightened up, and perched on the corner of one of the tables in the room, "That is a very serious accusation, Chief. You are accusing your superior of affecting the decisions of his superiors and subordinates alike through the use of, what are essentially, drugs? Which is a court martial offence, I might add."
"Yes, sir," said Grent.
"Do you have any proof of this?"
"Interruption: If I may, Commander, I took the liberty of sampling the air content upon entering the briefing room before your arrival. The results are quite conclusive," interjected HK.
"Let's hear it then."
"Data analysis: Pheromone concentration = 58.725% of air content."
"Thank you, droid," said Zail, "And thank you, Chief, for bringing this to my attention. This would make more sense as to why the Lieutenant objected to having the strill in the room."
"Aye, sir," replied Grent, "It would."
"Very well. You are dismissed, Chief. I shall act upon this information in due course."

------------------------------

The comms were filled with the chatter of battle, as Grent flew with his squadron. They had only had a couple of contacts, which struck him as odd. Chlovi had already suffered casualties, just as everyone knew they would, and Jexxel seemed to be facing the brunt of the attack, with at least one squadron bearing down on them, if not two. Even when Makenna’s call for backup came over the comm, Grent was still reluctant to send any of his squadron to assist: something was off. He came to a decision.

“This is Iron One,” he said, over the squadron’s radio frequency, “Something’s not right here, and I want to know what. Aurek, you’re with me. Iron Five, you’re in charge until I get back. If Jexxel need assist again, send Cresh. Keep an eye out people.”

“Iron One, this is Iron Five. Copy all. Good luck,” came Joamer’s voice in Grent’s headset.

Grent increased throttle, and watched his flight form up behind him; Lady, Edge, and Ghastly. With the exception of the latter person, Grent knew them all inside out. He knew what made them tick, what made them cry, what made them laugh, what made them who they were. He knew everything there was to know about them, and trusted them implicitly. He hoped it would never come to it, but he would give his life for these pilots. They were his family, as much as the Ozunu Aliit were, if not more so.
The flight flew ahead of the convoy of transport shuttles, carrying Imperial Marines towards their target destination of one of the gargantuan Golan space stations. Joamer had already expressed his concern about the orbital platforms…

------------------------------

“All I’m saying is that I’ve had nothing but bad experiences aboard those things!”
“I understand that, Joa, but there’s nothing I can really do.”

Joamer was in Grent’s office, waiting for him when he returned from the wing briefing. He had visibly paled at the mention of Golans.

“In the Army, it was either zombies, a flesh eating virus, a sex changing virus, Werewolves or something else horribly bad. Every damn time we boarded a space station,” exclaimed Joamer.
“We’re not even boarding it, as far as I know!”
“Exactly. “As far as you know”. What’s to say that the brass don’t have secret plans for us, eh?”
“If you’re going to start freaking out on me…” said Grent, part of him enjoying seeing the touch army man squirm.
“I’ll do my job, don’t you worry.”

------------------------------

Grent hoped Joamer had been exaggerating when he spoke of what he had previously encountered on space stations previously, though something told him that it was not in Joamer’s nature to exaggerate: the man had seemed genuinely scared. Even though they weren’t landing on any space stations today, it still didn’t fill Grent with a lot of confidence.

OOC:
WC: 2474

AAR: We get introduced to Malachi Fa'alson, the new Blade Wing Commander, a Falleen male who is quite fond of using his pheromones to increase his position within the Navy. He then, after a bit of an altercation between him and Grent, gives the orders for the squadrons. Whilst the rest of the battle is going on, Grent is surprised that Strill have seen almost no combat. He takes Aurek flight ahead to see if he can find out why.
SCO | SCPO Gurlanin | Iron One | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD II "Paragon" | TF: Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

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Hades
 
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  RE: Chapter 9: Navy Part 1: Arrival
December 20, 2013 6:40:14 AM    View the profile of Hades 
"They're coming in fast," the voice of Cresh 3, Vangelos, came over the comm in a strained tone. With a sharp twist of the control yoke, Hades' fighter narrowly missed colliding with one of the A-9's that were now zipping around.

"Blast," he muttered under his breath, "I see them, Cresh 3," he answered as he let loose a deadly volley of emerald green volts at one of the A-9's that crossed his path, veering to intercept the odd-looking Corellian design. The pilot was good, managing to stay out of the Lieutenant Commander's sights by weaving left and right. A quick upward turn into a loop almost lost Hades - almost but not quite. Damn these things are fast, he thought in annoyance, can we go back to pulverising X-wings? Another sharp turn ripped Hades' thoughts into the present, forcing him to concentrate as the A-9 zipped around like some form of insect. The advantage was that Hades had shields, while the A-9's advantage was its powerful heavy lasers. The A-9 pilot guided his fighter masterfully through a roll and subsequent dive, pulling down and away from the MK-II interceptor that Hades controlled. The veteran Jexxel pilot hurled his fighter after it before the vast vortex of space could swallow it amidst the rest of the chaos. Again he thumbed his lasers, this time successfully as the bolts impacted the A-9's engine compartment. There was a brief, bloated pause before the engine exploded and tore through the A-9.

"Hades, are you alright?" Makennna. He bit back any icy retort he could think of.

"Yes Commander," he replied tightly.

"Good. Strill's Cresh flight is on their way to assist. Hang tight," Hades groaned inwardly.

"We'll never hear the end of this," he warned.

"I'd rather live to suffer through it than die and have an end to it, Mr. Aita," She seemed averse to using his real rank and that she did not made him grind his teeth.

"Commander Aita to you, Chief," he shot back tersely, "Silver Nine out." As was a habit of his, he terminated the channel before she could come back with a harsh reply. He knew they were all under stress, meaning that he should give her a little leeway as far as protocol was concerned.. but wasn't he under pressure too?

"Hades, got two on our six." Graff's voice this time as he cut through the chatter to warn Hades of a real threat. Checking his sensors, Hades saw that Graff was in fact telling the truth. The former squadron commander cursed under his breath.

"Affirmative Graff. Prepare to dive on my mark," he instructed, which was answered by that telling click of the comm. unit. He gritted his teeth, waiting, watching his sensors as the pursuing fighters opened fire, "mark." As soon as he said the word, the two fighters split in unison. While Graff dove, Hades forced his interceptor into a hard barrel roll to slow himself. The A-9 behind him was going too fast to mimic his manoeuvre, but even though it shot past him, the pilot turned sharply away from his course to take him from the Jexxel's line of fire. The Lieutenant Commander was ready, increasing power to his engines and guiding his fighter around to follow the A-9's turn... He was almost too late, with the enemy craft already halfway through the turn and banking now toward him. A head-to-head with that thing wouldn't fare well for his shields, though he knew it wouldn't be the end of him. The A-9 completed its turn and brought the two fighters head to head, both of them spitting laser before either had a chance to blink. Hades' shields immediately started flashing as the heavy lasers found purchase against his flickering energy barriers, though he'd forgotten something - which fortunately, so had the enemy.

Graff. In a sudden explosion, the A-9 that he had been gunning for disappeared, blown into pieces as Graff shot past it in an upward direction. Without thinking, Hades pulled up and floored his throttle - a movement that paid off. The second A-9 flashed past just meters from his cockpit, intent on its pursual of his wingman. Fortunately, Cresh Leader was already in the movement of pulling up and soon found himself trailing the two fighters. These guys were good, he had to give them credit - mayhap if they were equipped with better fighters they would have annihilated Jexxel - but all the same, they were going to fall. Through a complex series of manoeuvres, Hades mimicked every move the A-9 made, each subsequent turn or roll keeping him just far enough out of Hades' sights to survive. "Can't shake him," Graff's strained tone came across Hades' headset.

"I've got him," the Lieutenant Commander replied in a calmer tone than he felt. Another twist and turn saw him getting closer and closer to the A-9's tail. Come on, he thought impatiently, emerald eyes keenly following the other's movement... Each time he tried to draw a lead on the A-9, he or Graff would bank away - because the A-9 was doing exactly the same thing to Graff. Each time he thumbed his lasers, the A-9 zipped away after Graff and the shots either clipped him or missed entirely, each failed attempt increasing the frustration of the young officer. Left turn, right turn, dive, roll, juke left, break right; each move brought him closer, yet still left him in want of that one satisfying kill. Finally, a sloppy turn on the A-9's behalf as Graff went into a barrel roll and dive left him dead in Hades' sights - literally. A burst of laser from his wing-mounted cannons saw the unshielded craft break in two, the deadly energy tearing through the cockpit and wing respectively. Hades exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, banking away from the end of the A-9 and toward where Jexxel squadron were still engaged with the rest of the A-9's. "Thanks for back there, Graff," he mentioned to his wingmate - after all, despite the distrust Hades held for him, the man had just saved his life.

"You too, Commander," Graff responded, "nice flying."

But the fun - if it could be called that - was far from over. He could see Besh flight's line was faltering and if their line faltered, there was no telling what the A-9s would do to the transports. "We need to get this done, Jexxel. The transports need our protection," he said over the squadron-wide frequency.

"We're all a little busy, in case you hadn't noticed." It was Makenna who replied, though he figured for the most part everyone else agreed with her. He didn't bother responding, instead checking on his sensors for Cresh 3 and 4 - Vangelos and Mundi.

"Silver 11, 12, think you can handle on your own for a moment?" He queried, eyes darting between readouts.

"Affirmative sir. Most of the enemy are concentrated closer to Aurek anyway," It was Vangelos' reply that let Hades know his plan was good to go.

"Alright Vangelos, shout if you're in trouble. We're going to help Aurek," Even as he told Dante about his plans, he was guiding his fighter on a course toward most of t he fighting.

"Jexxel Squadron, this is Iron Nine. Cresh flight is ready to assist," Hades didn't know the woman, nor did he particularly care. Admittedly, she was there to help, but all the same Hades had his own objectives.

"Roger that Iron Nine; Besh flight needs an assist. Make yourself useful," It was Makenna's reply, so either she didn't want to be helped or already knew that Hades was on his way. He tuned out of the conversation from there on out, having no need to listen to any further formalities.

"Stay on my six, Graff." He warned unnecessarily as he set his sights on the fray.

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,327

AAR: Hades and Cresh flight deal with some of the A-9s, but there are still quite a number of them left. Hades sees that they're concentrating closer to Besh and Aurek flights, so makes it his mission to assist Makenna - whether or not she wants it.

Strill's Cresh flight arrives and is assigned to help Besh flight out.

Lieutenant Commander Demetrius 'Hades' Aita

FL | LCDR Hades | Silver 9 | S:46 "Jexxel" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

MS | LCDR Hades | LCR Duty | TF:T | ?Flt | VENA | VEN | VE

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[MiD] [HNS] [1NS] [2NS] [BRC] [BWC] [SWC] [GWC] [CNQST] [CC:4]
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited December 20, 2013 11:31:55 AM)]
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