OOC:

I leave you all to continue and judge my post.

“Downstairs, quick, We’ve got to find out whatever it is they’re cooking up.” Arnaut ordered as he led the squad down into the labs, which shows an assembly line in a safe environment of the makings of some sort of nuclear material.

    It was hallways left and right, behind locked doors machines working on the construction of the nuclear material, the warhead that it was to be stored in, and other peculiar things as Jenny and the Wraiths wandered around an abandoned hallway filled with all sorts of scattered weaponery covered in blood, bloody handprints, and blotches of blood that made you think you were in some sort of horror film.

    “Oh god, is this why the whole facility is empty, the scientists were killed by the governor's troops?" TK asked, a little bit shocked too see so much blood on his first mission."

        Jenny analyzed the scene as best as she could. It didn't look like they were killed by the troopers not so much as themselves by the position of the weapons near the pool of blood and of the other bloody imprints. It looked more like they were killing each other, and there was some sort of thermal detonator placed, for in the center of all the bloodshed, there was a hole surrounded by black markings similar to after an explosion. She shared her thoughts to her colleagues as she stated, pointing to the black markings:

          "Definitely cannibal. These markings look like a bomb than thermal detonator by how big them are. The position of the weapons and the pools of blood all confirm that they were killing each other. Only some sort of virus that messes with the mind could have done this, Corin, my sister Freje's lover, has records of this kind of experiment from Dakine, but I'm not sure that it's him that did this."

          "Quite the impressive inferernce, Jenny. You have hopes of becoming quite the crime scene investigator." Kand remarked highly as Jenny only blushed and thanked shyly:

          "Thanks, Kand, it's only from experience that I learned to this, otherwise, I wouldn't be such the implying genius, would I?"

          "By the way, heard Mia, you, Jenny, and surprisingly, Kand had quite the conversation before we headed out, what was it?" Arnaut asked curiously when Kand calmly reported:

          "Oh it was nothing, just talks about past lives, our emotions were swayed and we just had to let it out with our poetic talks."

          It was definitely nothing like that, Arnaut, but as we all swore, entre nous, we cannot tell you. Jenny told Arnaut in thought as she relaxed her ready-to-fire rifle stance.

Seeing the fear on the sergeant face Hart knew that there was a problem here, a problem that nobody can understand, luckily no hazardous materials had been hit, a risk of infection at this time would not have been very appreciated by the team because they was not    
properly equipped for radiation.

Arnaut made a move with is hand and point directly to the left.

    "Hart according to the facility plan there are many room to the left i want you to scout the first two rooms for any information on the lastest activities in this facility, if we want to know what is really happening here we must begin by finding the reason of the problem solved it and then move our ass out."

    "Yes sarge! But i am troubled by the lack of evidences and sign of any confrontation." Hart said.

    "I am sure we will find out soon enough, now go check out those rooms i will cover ur back, jenna And kand will check the other one, i will wait in the hallway in case, you never know especially in a place like this." Arnaut replied.

Hart opened the door, at first glance the room appeared to be a dormitory, several notes was disposed on the tables, nothing had been moved everything was still in place that was more and more strange, if they knew that something was going wrong they probably would have panicked and surely any personal effects such as clothes would have been taken but everything was in place.

The building was checked by military, therefore there were surely several prototype of top secret projects something or someone was looking for only the investigation of this place may say more about what really happened.

Hart took the notes on the tables and began to search for something important in the room and finally found in a jacket that was hanging in the wardrobe an identification card which could possibly serve as a keycard or something like this.

    "Arnaut, i found an identification card with instructions on the back and odd number i thought maybe you wanted to see it, it could be used to open an important door." Hart said throught his comlink

Crazy virus. Bertrayal virus. The virus. Memories unbidden floated to the top of Arnaut’s consciousness. The space station, the infection of the entire squad. The Wraiths had almost killed each other then. The other troopers in the space station had killed each other. And now, the vaccine that had been discovered, the one that had saved most of the infected Wraiths from the brink of insanity, was, supposedly, worthless.

It all made sense now. All the bodies, the dead, relatively few signs of entry from an opposing force. Someone had let loose the virus in the factory. It still performed to perfection, Arnaut thought grimly, quickly glancing back at small bloodstain in the doorway of the room. The virus was probably still around, on the corpses, in the air, circulating throughout the ventilation system.

The only protection the Wraiths had, of course, were their rebreathers. They’d been all outfitted with...well, Arnaut wasn’t sure exactly. Some form of a bacta derivative, a membrane that could regenerate and keep the virus from passing through. Supposedly they worked, or so the techs had informed them as they were installed. As far as he knew, Derrond had the same helmets. Which meant that, as long as their helmets stayed on, they were safe.

Quickly, he relayed the news back to Villman, who was with his squad at the other end of the complex. He kept it short: just a description of the virus and a warning to keep the helmets on at all times.

Villman, obviously, was not pleased. He assented, though, and killed the link.

Arnaut sighed. He didn’t think he and Villman would ever be on good terms. The sooner the mission ended, the better. He formed up the squad and moved them out of the room. Besides that small tidbit of...interesting information, all the other computers appeared to have been wiped. Almost like someone wanted the squad to find that message.

Just coincidence. Arnaut shook off the feeling of dread climbing up his spine. Just coincidence, that was all. Incomplete wipe, hadn’t gotten everything, that had been the latest message input into the machine...it happened. Not very often. Arnaut cringed and shook off the feeling for a second time. Just coicidence.




On the other side of the room, Villman couldn’t help but feel the same way. A virus, one that the Wraiths had encountered before, mysteriously reemerging in a warehouse that the Wraiths were in again? And the only file the Wraiths had found was one saying that the vaccine didn't work any more? More than mere chance.

From the sound of Arnaut’s voice, Villman assumed that the other squad leader thought they’d destroyed all the stuff. Obviously they were wrong. Somehow, someone had had another sample, or had smuggled some out before the destruction of the space center. Villman started to wonder if maybe the virus had come from...no, it was unlikely. Even he couldn’t – wouldn’t – do that.

The warning had been simple. Just don’t take the helmets off. Easy enough. He spread out his squad in a rough V. It wasn’t perfect anymore, now, with Fen gone. He’d served admirably with Villman for three years. It was...hard...to see him die. But squad leaders learned to overcome such things. It was their role; their duty. Villman would get over it in time, was almost over it now. He knew how to keep a good deal of distance from the personal matters of his squad. Become emotionally attached and you become weak. Arnaut had never learned that. Arnaut was weak.

They moved forward, a bit more cautious after Arnaut’s and, subsequently, Villman’s warning. Some of them, especially Rallint, one of the squad techs, were getting jumpy. They looked around nervously, as if they could see the virus hanging in the air. Villman should’ve left it at “Don’t take off the helmets or you’ll die.” It might’ve kept morale a bit higher.

The hallway they were in was large and many small doors jutted off from the sides. All the lights were out, the machinery and assembly lines tracking through the center of the hallway dormant, for now. The only light they could see was from one of the manufacturing rooms at the far end of the line of machinery. They moved forward, toward it. Not in any particular hurry; they had no doubts that everyone in the factory, besides the two Imperial squads, were dead.

The room was well lit, and pretty bright. They squinted for a second as their visors automatically tinted. Then they moved in, guns raised, ready for an enemy they knew probably wasn’t going to be there. The room was empty.

It was more than just empty of people. It was empty. The only thing in the large room, which was about the size of  a regular interplanetary shuttle, was small, insignificant-looking computer station centered in the center of the room. It looked even smaller compared to the vastness of the room and complete lack of any other objects.

“Rallint,” Villman said firmly. The man snapped around. “Go ahead first. Check it out. Make sure it’s...safe.” Rallint started to quiver, and, for a brief second, Villman thought the man might piss himself. Rallint nodded instead and moved forward. Of course the terminal was safe. The virus had taken out everyone in the building days ago, and no one outside of the one provincial governor they worked for knew that they were here. Once Rallint saw how harmless the computer was, how unfounded his fears were, he would be better. It was a tactic. Send a scared trooper to do something easy. Reassure them, let them reassure themselves. It actually made them useful again, which, right now, Rallint was not. He could’ve sent someone else, heck, they all could’ve went to the computer, but Rallint had to do this alone because he—

The computer terminal exploded with Rallint a mere five feet from it. Proximity bomb of some sort, wired to the back of the terminal. A trap. Villman was flattened to the ground, but he hardly noticed, his mind racing. It was a trap, the whole building had been a trap. But...but...no one had know they were here! Almost no one. Villman silently cursed. They should’ve come in secret, not even told the governor. They...they...they...Thoughts slowed in Villman’s mind as he stood up. Rallint was on his feet, dazed, hovering over the wreckage of the terminal and staring down into it.

His helmet was off.

“Rallint,” Villman said firmly, taking a step forward. “Retrieve your helmet and put it on.” Silence. Villman repeated, “Retrieve your helmet and put it back on.” Rallint twitched nervously, violently, but other than that, all was still. Silent. The rest of the squad, most still lying on the floor, looked at the pair, half-wondering, half-dreading at what would come next.

“Rallint, I—” Whatever Villman had been about to say was lost in the noise that ensued. Rallint swung around, both of his E-11 carbines out, and already firing. His eyes were lightless, staring vacantly into space as he mercilessly fired into the ranks of his now retreating squad members. He looked...dead. Villman dropped to the ground, instinctively ducking out of the gunfire which laced overhead. He pulled out his gun and began firing on Rallint, who, in turn, promptly dropped behind the wreckage of the terminal. He had the only cover in the room; there was no where else for the rest of Derrond to hide. He resumed firing. Derrond fled for the door.

Villman was on his feet, his legs pounding. Somehow he made it to the front of the group, and to the door first, despite everyone else having a large lead. He turned, shouting orders at the frantic squad.

At least two of his squad members were down. Who, Villman couldn’t tell. He hoped they weren’t dead, despite their appearances. He ushered the remaining four members out into the hallway, blaster fire following them the entire way. Rallint didn’t hit them though. Apparently, in his crazed state, he’d lost all sense of training and aim. He’d only hit those two other troopers by chance.

The squad was breathing heavily. Lâche was still intact, as well as Yons, Serina, and ‘Barb’ as they’d nicknamed the newcomer barabel in the squad. It was quite a funny name, and it still irritated the trooper, but it was not a laughing time.

“Everyone good, anyone hit?”

There were ‘no’s’ all around. Until...

“Wait...” Yons lifted a hand to his helmet where a small piece of shrapnel had embedded itself into his rebreather. It hadn’t seemed to penetrate through, and he certainly didn’t feel any crazier.

“Well...?” Villman asked, rather viciously. He had his hand on his gun; he knew what would have to be done if Yons was infected.

“Nothing...just...nothing,” Yons said, removing his hand, and looking away from Villman. Villman mumbled under his breath and turned back toward the room. He tried to poke out, but blaster shots tore up the door fram and burned a part of his armor. Somehow, in roughly forty-five seconds, Rallint’s aim had gone from horrible to marksman accurate.

“Crap,” Villman said. He had a longer list of worse words in his head he’d like to say at the moment, but that’d be bad for morale. Morale was everything when working against a fellow trooper.

“Yons, grenade primed. Barb, be read to move in quickly once he’s down. Stick to the wall, keep moving, and lay down the fire.”

“But sir, what about the troopers still in there?” There was a quick succession of blaster bolts, followed by a cry cut short and a few meaty impacts.

“They’re...not going to make it,” Villman said. “Ready?” Yons nodded. “Alright...go!”

Grenade went in first. The blast blew apart what wreckage was left as cover. When Barb entered the room, he found Rallint already dead, his armor scorched and shattered from the blast. The other two troopers were already cooling, Rallint having finished them off a bit earlier.

Despite himself, Villman yelled in frustration. He’d never lost a soldier and now, on one planet, in a matter of a few days, he’d lost two. He kicked a piece of smoking wreckage across the room, yes, in complete sight of his squad, morale be hanged.

“Key Arnaut,” Villman said menacingly to Lâche, who was standing next to him quietly. Villman didn’t think he’d be able to talk with the other squad leader civilly now. Not now, maybe not ever again. “Tell him...tell him we need to get the hell out of here.”

Arrest. The word chafed. It was a horrible word, a word reserved for criminals, for prisoners of war, for enemies. Not the Wraiths. Not Derrond.

“...jurisdiction of the Imperial government, under stature 17 sections A-33 through A-42...”

Arnaut didn’t understand. They, the Imperial troopers, were being arrested by Imperial enforcement officers. Not only that, but they were being in the middle of nowhere! Technically, there shouldn’t even have been any Imperial police in such a place. It defied all reason.

The only explanation was that, somehow, the police had gotten wind of the station, not learned that the Wraiths and Derrond teams were going to be there, and had happened to run into them. Again, coincidence. The coincidental occurrences were really starting to bug Arnaut. Too many of them. The virus, the computer, the bomb, now the enforcement officers...all too unlikely. Separately, it would’ve been fine, but together they painted a scary picture.

The officers were moving and Arnaut had no choice but to move with them. They were herded into a rather large shuttle, large enough to accommodate the twenty-plus troopers and both Imperial squads comfortably. They were searched, weapons were confiscated, and they were stripped out their armor and into civilian looking clothes.

Arnaut advised his squad to comply. They would work it out when they got back. It was all a big mistake. They would work it out, they just had to be patient. Comply with the officers, do as they say. It would all work out in time.

The shuttle shook and picked off the ground. The rain had started again, popping and sizzling on the shuttle’s hull. They rose into the gray air, leaving the complex behind. It looked so small from the sky, Arnaut realized. Just a tiny building in a vast expanse of acid washed landscape.

The city came into view before long. Not as tough or terrible a trip as had been the five hour landspeeder crawl to get to the place. The two squads’ landspeeders were still probably sitting a couple of miles out from the facility, being soaked by the downpour of acidic rain. Well, they hadn’t been that nice anyway.

The lights illuminated the otherwise gray cloud cover, sparkling slightly in the torrent of rain. It was blurry, just a smudge really, in the distance, but it got larger with each passing minute. Soon it encompassed their entire view, and they started to set down. The officers brought out stun batons and herded them – quite painfully – out of the shuttle and to the detention facility they had landed at. It was large, barren, and quite isolated from the rest of the city, sitting just toward the outskirts.

“We need to talk with the governor at once!”  Serina said vehemently as she was shoved off the shuttle, hands manacled. A stun baton put her on the ground, cringing.

“You wish,” one of the officers laughed cruelly. A few others chuckled, shoving them into the building proper. Maybe this won’t be something that can be sorted out with time, Arnaut thought. At least, not with the little time they had to warn the governor. The nukes that had mysteriously ‘vanished’ from the factory could be anywhere now, in the hands of anyone.

They spent their night in cells. It was cold, the floor that they were forced to sleep on was slightly wet and clammy, and they were crammed four to a cell. They got one bucket of water for a “shower” and another bucket for everything else.

It was a bad night, for everyone. Their hopes of getting word to the governor had been quashed as surely as anything. No one talked, no one so much as touched the slices of bread they were each handed as an excuse for a meal. It was silent agony.

At about six o’clock in the morning, local time, one of the officers reappeared in the hallway. He was carrying keys. Everyone instantly brightened only to slump back as he whistled on past to open the cell of another prisoner. He was dragged away by two officers, already waiting at the cell, kicking and screaming. Apparently he wasn’t too fond of whatever “freedom” the law had given him.

At roughly eight they were given some cold eggs and more bread, and then at noon a meal of bread and gray meat. Rations made it difficult to find decent food anywhere in the war-torn planet, but it seemed the jail was going out of their way to find the most offensive morsels they could scrounge up. Few people touched their food, and hunger added to their list of woes.

Finally, at two o’clock that afternoon, an officer came for them. He didn’t look happy, his face contorted into a scowl. Arnaut recognized the face, though. It was the officer that had laughed at them on the landing pad.

“Hell just froze over, boys,” he said sourly, unlocking the first cell. “The governor has requested to meet with you personally.”

The squads practically flew out of their cells.




Four hours later, they were still in civilian clothes, if a bit more freshened and fed. Their armor and weapons were still confiscated, for some unknown reason. It was aggravating, but at least they were meeting the governor. Or should’ve been.

They sat at an elaborate, elongated table. It could hold roughly thirty people. They had a nice dinner, quite different than the crap they’d been fed before. It was...good. The first real food they’d had in days, come to think of it. Nice stuffed fowl, chilled wine, assorted fruits, imported of course. Some plum pudding. A glass of caf to finish it off. Arnaut laid back in his chair, almost forgetting why he’d come in the first place.

Then he remembered. The planet was about to die. He sat up suddenly, almost knocking his wine cup over, the stark realization that the whole planet could be in some real danger – more than it already was – coming up in his mind. The aftertaste of the extravagant meal suddenly was very bitter. Here he was, feasting, when the planet was dying.

The broad, gold inscribed doors at the end of the hall opened wide, allowing for the governor, in all his pomp and ceremony, come striding into the hall. He was an older man, probably late fifties, with graying hair and a creased face. They said that Serrell aged men faster, though, so he very well could have been ten years younger than that.  He was dressed in ornate purple robes, trimmed in gold thread, that draped to the floor and trailed a ways behind him. He certainly seemed to take no notice of the war going on around him. While his civilians ate rations and wore clothes of what fabric that hadn’t been requisitioned off for the war effort, he dined sumptuously and dressed in the finest of silks. Arnaut hated him immediately.

“Ah, ah, very welcome, sit, sit,” he insisted as the squad members began to half-stand, half-bow at the same time. It was then Arnaut noticed the armed entourage coming in behind the governor. Eighteen men, two squads, armed in full cermonial, gold trimmed armor, complete with the plumes. Their guns were just as elegant, and looked all the more deadly for it. Arnaut was reminded of his own defenselessness as they came marching, lock-step, into the hall. His squad members and what was left of Derrond eyed them nervously. They obviously had realized the same thing.

“Don’t mind them,” the governor said, waving his hand dismissvely. “All ceremonial, you see. Just for show.” The squads were unconvinced.

“My name is Governor Laskell, governor of this province. I welcome you and thank you utmostly for your efforts thus far. With your help, this planet might’ve been ours yet.”

There was a silence in which no one breathed. Might’ve. The word hung in the air, and everyone sat uneasily. Might’ve implied it wasn’t, and never was going to be. Ever.  It implied the worst possible things the Imperials had been dreading. They sat in silence and waited for the governor to continue.

“You see, my...ahem...master...” Laskell cringed at the word, as if he didn’t like the fact that he was working for someone else. Arnaut cringed too, but for an entirely different reason. He had a fear, a very deep, very small fear, that was quickly rising into a large fear, of where this speech was going.  Laskell continued, not apparently noticing, wrapped up in his own words. “...has...other plans for this planet. Good plans, mind you, but they don’t end in Imperial rule. In fact...they don’t end in anyone’s rule of the planet.”

Someone should’ve shouted something. Denied him, screamed at him, for Emperor’s sake, lunged at him at this remark. But everyone was painfully aware that there were armed guards standing at the sides of the rooms. They kept their peace, with fear and anger rising in them.

“I...well, I’d better leave it to him to explain.” The governor pulled out a remote and suddenly, a large screen unfurled from the ceiling, a few feet behind the table, so that the table was between the governor and the it. Everyone turned to look.

It was dark for a second. And then...horror clawed at Arnaut and he very nearly passed out. The rest of the Wraiths, the ones that had been with Arnaut on Phu, the ones that had been so eager to find the traitor within the VE, the leader behind just basically everything. And to have him appear so suddenly out of nowhere.

Albatross leered giddily on the screen. Behind him, though the Wraiths did not recognize him, was Major Talos. And, of course, standing in the corner, wringing his hands and wiping his forehead with his stained handkerchief, was Albatross’ main comm officer, Larn al’Tarth. The gang was all there.

“Governor,” Laskell said respectfully, bowing. It left an even more stunned silence. Albatross was...the other governor? They’d always known that there were two Imperial provinces left, but never assumed that the other governor was of real importance. Their mistake.

“Sir,” someone said from the back of the table. It was what made them frightened most of all. They turned back and found Villman in the same bowing state as Laskell.

“You...wha...you know him...you know this...how can you...isn’t he...” Serina was gibbering, her mind not able to keep up with her thoughts. Albatross frowned on screen.

“Kill her. Shut her up.” Villman turned neatly, not even hesitating, and drew a pistol seemingly out of nowhere. The round went through Serina’s forehead, right above her stunned expression, and tumbled her out of her chair and onto the ground. Bile rose in Arnaut’s throat as he sat, trying to see both Villman and Albatross at once, mouth working but no words coming out.

Villman...and Albatross. Villman working for Albatross. Albatross working on the planet all along. Albatross made the bombs. Villman had lured them into the trap to begin with. It...it...it...was too much.

“Well, now that pleasantries have been dispensed with, I might as well introduce myself, as I’m afraid we haven’t had a proper one...ever,” Albatross smiled sweetly. “I’m Albatross. But you may refer to me as your worst nightmare. Or just nightmare. Either works, I’m not too picky with the logistics, just as long as it’s something...frightening.” He grinned, his eyes gaining a sadistic, slightly insane look. No one spoke, and Villman returned to his bowed position.

“Oh, Wraiths, nuna got your tongue? Well, then let me start. I’ve been watching you. The whole way, ever since you first caught wind of me. An oversight, one that I paid for dearly. But now you shall be the ones paying. You see, as of this moment, my ships in orbit are about to launch two-hundred fully armed and loaded bombs of paranosis virus into every major population center of this planet. Isn’t it exciting? By the end of the day, the whole system...nay, the galaxy! Will fear my name and the Wraiths...will be dead! Personally, I think the whole betrayal by your fellow squad leader just adds a dramatic touch to the whole ordeal, but that’s just me.”

“You’ll...you’ll never get away with this!” Arnaut cried, suddenly finding his voice. It sounded incredibly cheesy, but, at the moment, he really couldn’t think of much else to say.

“Oh, but you see,” Albatross giggled, “the truth is that I will. Nighty-night.”

The screen went blank. And that’s when they heard it. A dull thump, reverberating, incredibly bass, from far off. A bomb going off. Then again. And again. The world was falling.

Laskell took a glimpse out the window, saw a flash in the distance, and started hurriedly for the door. Villman followed, followed by nine of the eighteen guards. On the way out, he turned back and said, “None of them leave. At least not alive.” And then he was gone.

The Wraiths, Lâche, the Derrond tech, and Barb were left in the room, surrounded, and outgunned. Lâche and Barb were of no use anyway. They just stared at Serina’s body, slack-jawed and stunned. It was only a matter of time before the first bombs started to hit their city, and they had no time to waste.

Silently, and out of the guards sight, Arnaut made eye contact with the squad. Many were on the verge of tears, thinking that the end had finally come. Others were bewildered and flustered, still not comprehending. But they all understood. They had one chance, and they had to make it count.

Ten tried to stand, but a blaster bolt crashing into the table caused him to sit back down. They wouldn’t be leaving peacefully, that was for sure. Arnaut palmed a knife quickly at the diversion. One chance to break out. Just one. He flung the knife twisting around bodily in the chair. It stuck in a guard’s throat. One chance, and he would make the best of it. All around him, urged on by the sudden commotion, the Wraiths were rising up. They were leaving the planet, whether Albatross liked it or not.

OOC:

Long, and it reaveals a lot of the main points. Now, just break out of the city, get our armor, and fly into space and this story will be over. Or, should I say, part ONE of this story will be over. So...post!

It's a bit rough, I'll edit it a bit later. For now, I need to go.

Blackout could feel himself aging, maybe it was because it had been a long time since he had been out in the field. Or maybe he just wasn't used to all this excitement, it was different from Eclipse that was for sure.

“Black, you going to be able to keep up?” Some one said into his comlink. Still couldn't recognize the voices off the top of his head.

“I think.” He replied, not sure he would even make it on the gun boat.

“HURRY!!!” That was one voice Blackout knew though, it was Arnaut.

It seemed like forever, and a bunch of back fire until they got to the Revelation GunBoat. It looked like it had just rolled off the Factory. Everything was in tip top shape, of course Dax didn't know what it looked like in the inside. As far as ships went this was the nicest one he had seen.

Dax kept listening into radio chatter. Ever since he had started his Comm. Tech course he couldn't help himself from listening into people's conversations, when possible. The best part was, there code was easy to crack.

“ARNAUT!! There sending fighters.” Blackout yelled. Everyone was getting seated, Blackout however was the only one not sitting.

Arnaut had already taken his helmet off and gave him a peculiar look. Wondering how he knew. “huh?”

“Sorry, forgot to mention that I am Communication Technician.” Blackout said, his verberator still on, making his voice a little muffled.

“Well, don't just stand there three of you get to the Turrets.” Arnaut seemed to be staying calm, even though the circumstances were odd.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Blackout sat in the turret quickly his helmet blocking his peripheral vision. It was hard to take it off now, considering the tight space. He took it off anyway. “Three fighters in bound”

They had lifted off exactly 12 minutes ago, meaning the fighters would be on them in about 3 more minutes. They had little time, but just enough to get a reading on what side they would be coming from.

“I see them, 30 degrees south, coming in fast.” As soon as the words left Jenny's mouth, they were on them. Dax fired randomly, not caring what he hit, as long as he hit something.

“I have the leader locked, coming in from the rear”

Dax aimed as far as the turret would go to the right. Hoping he would see one. As luck would have it, one just happened to go past his turret. He fired; He was sweating from head to toe. He had missed the first shot, but got a nice shot on the left wing as it continued to fly past. The fighter spun out of control and disappeared over Dax's turret and an explosion followed.  that's one

“Hurry it up back there, their starting to get hit's on us.” Arnaut said from the front.
“Don't worry, sir. I have one.” Jenny said. Without warning and Explosion followed her reply.

“One more, I see him, he's charging his missiles, get ready.”

Dax could feel sweat starting to perspire, the humidity was getting to him. If that Fighter finished charging that missile they would be done, if not they would make it. He could feel laser fire battering the walls. The Gunboat felt like it was starting to tear apart from the inside out. He was starting to worry for the first time in his life. If this was on the ground he would have just found a safe place, but there was no safe place to go. It was over.

“Three, two, one...” The final explosion went off. Dax first thought they were all dead. But he couldn't think if he was dead.

He couldn't help himself he just had to... “YEEEEE HAAWWW!!! That's how  we roll”

The whole Ship was an up roar of cheers. It had been the perfect ending, to a hard day.