Star Wars STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)---Always taking new players!

IC: Jensen Visak
Location: Whendyll System

Jensen turned away from the TIE he had just destroyed, looking for his next target. As he scanned his sensors, looking for the next enemy craft to go after, his comm crackled to life with a voice he was unfamiliar with. Course I'm not familiar with most of these voices. Its coming over the squad channel. Must be one of the other mercs. "Oh, you like blasting defenseless TIEs, do you?" "Try me." Wait, that doesnt sound like something a merc would sa.. BLAM!

Rex's scream in the background went to the back of his mind and his ship rocked from a pair of laser bolts hitting his rear shields. His shields dropped down to 75 percent. He started performing evasive menuvers, puling the control yoke in every which way, trying to get who ever was behind him off his tail. He managed a glance at his sensors and saw it was a V-Wing. Damn, those things are nimble. Shouldnt have called off that help so quickly. "Defenseless TIEs my arse," "And how pray tell did you break into this frequency?" “Oh, the Imperial Navy has all sorts of bells and whistles.” “Wanna swap sides?” Great, the man trying to shoot me down is flirting with Firecracker. Just what I want to hear as I'm getting shot.

"Rex, put some pressure on that guy as I try to figure something out." The turret on the back of his ship started thumping out laser blasts. He looked down and called up Firecrackers location on his sensors. How can I plan anything with this bantha poodoo listening in on everything I say to the mercs. I guess I'll just head over to them and try to figure something out on the way.

Jensen pulled up on the yoke while rolling the craft with the foot pedels, making the ship perform a wide barrel roll, the center of it aimed in the direction of Firecracker. After two loops he leveled out again. Thinking of anything to save his skin, he thought back to one of the smuggler friends he made while on his "sabaticle". He had taught him a trick that had been going through the suggler community for years but that the Academy rarely included. Or at least they hadnt when I was there. Here goes nothing. "Rex give me full power to the bottom menuvering thrusters. When we go 180 degrees, I want you to cut them, and switch shield to three quarters front." He heard a mournful moan from Rex. "Dont worry, we'll be alright. It's me we're talking about." He ignored the second moan, and put on hand on the throttle. Now to see if I can out smart this guy. Setting a torpedo to timed explosion as opposed to kenetic explosion, he fired and then yelled, "Now!"

Jensen cut the thrust coming from the engines, as the starfield whipped across the cockpit, top to bottom. His friend had called it a smugglers reverse. It rotated the craft 180 degrees, putting a ship that was pursuing oneself right in the targets of ones lasers. The only problem was that for a small fraction of a second as the ship flipped it would present the enemy with a full crosssection of the craft. As the ship turned the proton torpedo exploded behind him, hopefully blinding the V-Wing pilot for a second or two.

As he came about he pulled the trigger, spraying green bolts at the pursueing V-Wing.

Tag: JediFalcon Sith-I-5 and anyone else in the area

 

IC: Fress Colias
Whendyll system

. "Can't you mind trick him to forget it?"

"It'll take a lot of energy to do that, more then what I'm running on at the moment," Fress answered with a heavy sigh. "Maybe the fighter will burst into flames solving the problem," she said as she watched Rogue and Cochise drop in beside Yav escorting him to the Snap Dragon. She switched channels as she heard the Imperial transmit over the frequency again.

“Oh, the Imperial Navy has all sorts of bells and whistles.” He told her. “Wanna swap sides?”

"Over the Emperor's dead body," Fress snipped angrily. "That man has done more damage in my life then you can ever possibly know, they brain wash you," she said as Saber beeped at her excitedly. She looked down and noticed the comlink frequency to the one Imperial squadron of V-wings. "Good work Saber," she said as she located the one fighter again and watched as Nugget went after him. "Find someone else to bug, Nugget, he's mine," she said as she dropped in behind the V-wing as she changed to the frequency this squadron was using.

“Gorax Four to Gorax Nine. Pull in behind me, please. I could do with a wingman.”

“Copy Four, on the way.”

“I’m hit.” a third disembodied Imperial voice reported. “Ah, this is so embarrassing.”

“What’s up, Three?” Four enquired after his friend. “Apart from getting hit, of course?”

“I got winged by that Z-95.”

Fress grinned knowing it was Seira who got the drop on the one V-wing. //I'll let you go if you deliver a message to Vader for me.// She took a deep breath before continuing as she wiped the frequency number from his mind as she dipped into her Force energy reserves. She was going to need a nice long nap after this. //Hi Ani. Say yes over your frequency if you understand.//


Sith-I-5, SWBob

 

IC: Warren Kefler (EC-87-5) (NPC)
TIE cockpit, Battle of the Whendyll System

Kefler was enraged as the enemy cut his squadron along with the TIE Bombers to ribbons. It didn't matter who the Imperials faced, X-Wing, ARC-170 or Z-95, all were having their way with the pilots under his command. Even the capital ships were getting in on the act, attacking not only the bombers he was escorting, but his home base as well. The large unknown vessel had made short work of the Defender before moving off slightly. Who it would target next was anyone's guess.

Kefler didn't have time to dwell on it though, he was too busy dodging blaster fire and trying to keep the rest of his flight alive. "Delta, homeplate is gone. Fight to the last, we'll make alternate landing arrangements when this is over." Only Six acknowledged his brief signal as Seven was taken out by an X-wing. The freighter that had taken out Eight was no where to be seen at the moment.

"Delta Leader from the escort frigate Cash. Our mission is to capture this enemy ship, not destroy her. You have done a fantastic job, however, please disengage."

Kefler nearly laughed on the open comm circuit. His attack force was in tatters, barely able to defend themselves much less press their attack. Of course this was the Imperial Navy and they would have followed their attack orders to the last unless they had been called off. Cash had done them a favor.

Fate further smiled on them as a flight of V-Wings emerged from Tango. "Delta, Beta, new orders. Break off of strike mission and move to support Gorax flight."

He banked his TIE hard over, counting only five acknowledgements of his orders. These rebels would pay for destroying his squadron and his home. Seeing a rebel Dunelizard he banked his TIE Fighter towards it. Stabbing at his controls he fired on it, determined to have his revenge, today.

---

IC: Captain Reep I Cheep (NPC)
Kingdom's Navy Vessel Dawn Treader, Battle of the Whendyll System.

While the battle continued to rage on about them, Captain Cheep concerned himself with trying to save his ship and crew. Even if he had wanted to the Dawn Treader was adrift and main power was offline, they simply had nothing left to offer. Even the sensors were offline, leaving Cheep blind to what was going on beyond the ship's metal hull. His last information told him that a squadron of TIE Bombers was still boring in on the Dawn Treader from aft, while Imperial frigates continued to overwhelm their forward defenses.

The ship shuddered again, a gentle rocking this time instead of the harsh impacts of laser and torpedo fire. "Tractor beam" he announced to no one in particular, everyone was too busy trying to get the ship back into the fight to notice his statement anyway. He had no idea which ship it was that had grappled with his own. Was it an Imperial trying to secure his ship for boarding? Or was it one of their own, trying to rescue them? Time would tell, for now there were larger concerns.

Fires still raged below decks. Until those were contained there was no way they could restore main power. Sadly, without main power it was looking as though there was no way they could effectively combat the blaze. The ship had a contingency plan for this of course, venting the affected decks to space and allow the vacuum to deprive the fire of the oxygen it craved. It was a "last ditch" system, one only to be used when all other options had failed, for any personnel caught in the affected areas without vacuum survival gear would also be suffocated. But the system was offline, knocked out by Ion fire from the Frigates. This was looking hopeless.

Cheep took stock for a moment. With main power down, the damage control station and ship status displays had gone dark. The DC officers were using grease pencils to mark damaged areas of the ship, as well as one's already written off by damage control parties. Already so much of the ship was blocked off with a series of large ugly Xs. A bold letter F was being used to denote areas lost to the raging fire. Those areas were dangerously close to the hanger bay, filled with fighter fuel, warheads and other rather combustible elements. Cheep made a decision.

"Drop the Hanger Bay shields, that will vent the deck and prevent the spread of the blaze there." The response of the DC officer chilled him to the bone.

"We lost those shields when we lost main power, the hanger's emergency doors automatically slammed shut to prevent loss of atmo. We can't open them again until power is restored."

The blood drained from Cheeps face, the dim red emergency lights "illuminating" the bridge made him look as ill as he now felt. It was then that he realized everything was lost. Straightening himself, he drew his sword and saluted the other officers on the bridge.

"It has been an honor..."

---

IC: Fire. (NPC)
Bowels of the Dawn Treader.

They say that fire is not alive, but it is. It breathes, it eats. It sleeps and it awakens. It procreates and migrates into new environments which are able to sustain it. And when the conditions for its continued survival are no longer met, it dies.

Despite the efforts of her crew, the fire aboard the Dawn Treader did not want to die. Instead she lashed out at those who attacked her, the heat from her flames melted the breathing masks of those who got to close to her burning touch. Their clothing burst into flame as she rolled over them, consuming them in the process.

But the crew fought back hard, with skill and bravery and determination, trying to kill the thing that would deny them a home and a safe sanctuary from the vacuum of space beyond. They would do everything they could to extinguish her life, and so, without thought, she spread out, following all the avenues that she could find in a search for the fuel that would sustain her.

Along corridors the paint scorched and peeled, the wiring in the wall and between decks smoldered and burned. If she had such thoughts she would have smiled as she circumvented those men and women who fought so hard to keep her at bay.

As her tendrils continued their inexorable advance they reached and area that was called Hanger Deck, though she could not of course understand this. What she did understand was her tongue's of flame soon tasted a most delightful meal, one that she could consume rapidly and was rich in the "nutrients" that would keep her alive. She gorged greedily on this new fuel, and as she did so she grew beyond even her own capacity.

She exploded, taking the Dawn Treader and her crew with her, and then she died in the cold, hard vacuum of space. But while the crew of the Dawn Treader would be mourned, no one gave another thought to mourning her. After all, she wasn't really alive. She was only fire.

OOC: Some inspiration for the previous comes from the movie Backdraft.

---

IC: Atin Taab
Crusader, Battle of the Whendyll System

After being forced to abandon his attack on the Bomber Squadron, Atin pulled the Crusader hard over. He would re engage at the earliest opportunity, though it looked as if the rest of the Mercs weren't going to give him a chance. TIE after TIE exploded under withering fire from the mercenary squadron. They were good, really good. Seeing the way they dismantled the TIE attack, Atin hoped he had done enough to earn his own keep.

Completing his turn, the Crusader accelerated towards the TIEs again. They were ignoring him now, or so it seemed, paying more attention to the more agile and decidedly more deadly fighters that were blasting them from the stars. Just as he was nearing attack range again the fighters and bombers scattered, breaking off their attack on the heavily damaged Jod destroyer. One pair lined up for an attack run on the Dunelizard he had seen earlier, but Atin wasn't close enough to engage them. Instead he called out "Dunelizard, two TIEs on you," over the comm circuit.

There were V-wings entering the fray now, but they too were too far out for the Crusader at the moment. Instead her upper quad mount barked at a pair of TIE Bombers, taking out one while the other broke beneath the freighter. Jeth fired away with his own guns, but his firing solution was off and he missed. The Bomber poured on the throttle, making a break for one of the Imperial frigates, and the protection it would offer.

Atin used the chance to line up a missile shot and fired the last of his warheads at the fleeing bomber. They tracked true, adding another small explosion to an already busy battlefield. Glancing down at the tactical display Atin let out a woop followed by "OK, what's next?"

TAG: CPL_Macja, Bravo, Sith-I-5, kommando104, SWBob, JediFalcon (anyone I may have missed).

 

IC: Cain Varss
Whendyll System


Cain cursed under his breath. Between a near collision with the Gamma-class shuttle, and then the Mako after he pulled up to avoid the shuttle, he had a rather unexpected collision. A spacetrooper had knocked his port s-foil up, though thankfully his shields were still holding at sixty-four percent. He turned his head and caught a glimpse at Safety. He had been hit by something, and his craft was not doing well it seemed. I wonder what...

" Cochise, what's the status of that Gamma?"

Cain was about to key his comm when a siren went off in the cockpit indicating a missile lock. Sithspawn...damned crazy spacetroopers. Cain never understood why anybody would trade a perfectly good spacecraft for the vacuum of space, though in this case the fact that the shuttle was limping along might be a good reason to bail.

Cain pulled into a tight loop upward and then dove as the pair of missiles homed in, getting closer and closer. He needed time.

He flew straight letting the pair close in on him. Watching the missiles close in on his sensors would be enough to scare most pilots. Cain just grinned confidently.

Just as they were about to make their impact Cain cut the throttle and pulled hard port, then up. It wouldn’t shake them, but it bought him precious seconds. Cain could now clearly see the shuttle, and he could get to it in time...probably. It wasn’t looking good for the shuttle and his sensors indicated she had mere seconds. Now or never.

Cain pointed the nose of his starfighter at the belly of the shuttle and pushed the throttle all the way forward, then put all his energy into his rear shields.

The missiles had turned back and were closing. Timing was everything, and he hoped the missiles on his tail would cause the final demise of the shuttle, but three proton torpedoes flew in toward the shuttle. It was from that Firespray. Frag. Before he could get to the shuttle, the torpedoes did and the shuttle exploded. He had tried to even out his shields, but it was a little too late.

He nosed down hard as the missiles behind him were about to find their mark, wrestling with the stick to obey his commands as the Z-95 was knocked around by turbulence. They started to turn to follow but got caught up in the explosion of the shuttle. Two more explosions from the missiles, adding to the fireball, rocked his craft, but it appeared the Z-95 was all in one piece, though his shields had collapsed in the process. He took power from his engines and put them into recharging them. His sensors also appeared to be a bit off, though they would still suffice, and the armor on the nose of his shuttle had some fresh scoring marks.

"Rogue, Cochise, pull in. We are escorting Safety to the Snap Dragon."

Cain cursed under his breath. He had been so caught up in it doing so that he hadn’t had time for much else, but the mention of his callsign snapped him back into communication.

“Copy. Moving to cover Safety.”

Cain moved toward the N-1 Starfighter. Cain’s shields were slowly coming back, probably too slowly, though he was unconcerned, though he cycled over to his missiles to try and avoid a dogfight.

He noticed a V-wing closing in Safety's position from above and to the right. He changed his heading to intercept. The fighter seemed intent on finishing off the limping N-1 as Cain pulled in around on the V-wing's tail. He knew it would be on the N-1 before his lasers could eat through the shields and armor, but it was almost too close for missiles. Cain had to take the chance. He was going to tell Safety to warn him, but he remembered Firecracker saying the frequency was wasn't secure. If he warned Safety, it would warn the pilot of the V-wing. Cain looked through his targeting computer and a hum came from it when there was a solid lock. He sent two away then pulled off to avoid the explosion. With his shields at five percent, he couldn't afford to take anymore hits at the moment. The V-wing tried to get away, but it was too late. The first missile went wide right as the V-wing juked left, but the second one stayed on course and the V-wing was shrouded in fire.

Tag: Sith-I-5, JediFalcon, others in space battle

 

IC: Gorax Four, Imperial Alpha-3 Nimbus "V-Wing" starfighter.
Location: Whendyll System outskirts


Gorax Four had no reaction to Firecracker's mind trick.

Her tactic to prevent his use of the Merc frequency had been trumped by Jensen detonating a fragging proton torpedo in the V-Wing's path, and both he and his starfighter had already been reduced to glowing particles by the silently expanding globe of white energy which in turn consumed Gorax Nine before the prospective wingman could steer away.

* * * *

Dawn Treader exploded in the Cash's face, rocking the Imperial frigate, as well as catching the Light-class destroyer House of Vimal in it's destructive demise, the Jod destroyer wheeling slowly away from the shockwave.

Alarms and klaxons echoed through the decks of both ships, though the term "every cloud has a silver lining" got seriously tested as the Nebulon-B received a delivery of a new weapon, most of the Dawn Treader's DBY-827 heavy turbolaser smashing into the forward section below the bridge with the force of an asteroid.

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Strike Force Snake Head
Fishing Village, Port Haven



Major William Peterdon got on the comm link installed on his helmet; the destruction of the Defender was filling the comm channel, but Major Peterdon had his own tactical channel for this mission and the Navy's concerns weren't his concerns. "All infantry units, halt advance. Infantry heavy weapons, move forward to support artillery action. All artillery and heavy weapons...give 'em hell."

Music: Run Through the Jungle

Major Peterdon watched as the tanks, AT-STs, and rocket-equipped infantry soldiers opened up, using their heavy weapons to attack the village. The infantry units would halt their advance until ordered forward. From Peterdon's view, the exploding buildings were a wonderful site. Rockets, tank cannons, and mortars from AT-STs hit the village, turning the once quiet place of death once again into a loud place of death.

It was several minutes of this terrible bombardment---and normally Peterdon would of sent in a scout element to check for survivors before the artillery shelling, but the Imperial Navy confirmed via orbital scans that no Imperial life signs remained...and if there were any left, they would of had a hard time staying alive through that bombardment---before the Major called it off. He spoke into his comm, "Tanks, forward. AT-STs, hold in reserve with command element. Biker Scouts, move forward with the tanks. Scout platoon, remain in reserve in defensive formation. All infantry units, forward."

The Imperial infantry spread out, the two infantry platoons taking the far side of the jungle opposite the ocean---one platoon advancing upon the village while the other cleared the jungle behind them for enemies---and the special missions platoon advanced from the direction of the tanks and the other platoon from the other side of the village. As the Imperial soldiers appeared out of the surrounding jungle, the two Imperial Tanks crashed through the jungle behind the special mission platoons with Speeder Bikes providing escort. One tank slowed to a stop by one of the AT-ST's remains with a few Speeder Bikes and a few Special Mission Troopers, while the other Tank proceeded into the middle of tank with the other speeder bikes. The two regular Imperial Army infantry platoons took up defensive positions where they were on the edge of the fishing village, facing their numbers in all directions, while sending in two squads into the town itself to conduct search and destroy missions. The third regular army platoon continued searching the jungle for a counter attack, while the Special Mission Platoon did the dangerous building to building search pattern for enemy units and any Imperial survivors.


TAG Sith-I-5

 

IC: Twenty-One, SG-12, Captain Jenkins, Mekuun Hoverscout; Light-class destroyer, House of Vimal
Locations: Entire Whendyll System, including Port Haven


A convoy of five assorted shuttles with Authority ARC-170 fighter escort were on the way from the distant Delicate Delinquent to the Dawn Treader when the latter ship exploded into flames, brightening a velvet black starfield already illuminated by countless lasers, plasma beams and explosions.

The convoy slowed, forty klicks from the main fight, on seeing their rescue mission cancelled, and called back to the DD for orders.

Most of them saw the white plasma fire before they noticed the Vigil-class corvette, Urgency, the hot beam striking the lead shuttle in the side, stopped by her shields for a pause, then punching straight through the smaller vessel, which in turn erupted in a yellow fireball around the fiery white lance.

All five ARC-170s peeled away from their charges, and moved to engage the Imperial corvette, proton torpedoes leading the way from two of them while a stacatto of anti-starfighter laser fire sprayed towards them from the Urgency.

* * * *
Mekuun Hoverscout

The low, crescent-bowed craft had wheeled tightly around in a stream of white-green wash as the dawning sun broke into a thousand pieces on the water, and accelerated back the way they had come, travelling west much faster now that they had the person they had been looking for.

Twenty-One, seated with his helmet beside him, and one hand pressing the headcomm to his right ear, was telling Seventy-Nine that the Emperor's Hand had placed him under direct command.

"But we are already under her command. Her operation, remember." The lieutenant's voice reminded.

"I think she means more...direct."

"Twenty-One," Mara called gently, grabbing his attention by using his unit number, "I need Blockade Command to keep track of all attacks from that Battleship. Locations, times, everything. I want a play-by-play recording of everything downloaded to this hovercraft."

Twenty-One waved an acknowledgment towards her. "Right, she wants me to call Blockade Command direct."

"That'll be the Cimmerian. If that's what she says, go ahead and contact them directly. I'm fine with that."

SG-12 stood to the near side of Twenty-One, his back to the console. Arms crossed as he leaned back, and looked down at the deck. "You know, Captain Sard is running a separate op out there to capture the first Jod vessel to arrive in-system. He's quite the astute person, so if he hasn't gone after what took out the Defender, it means she is not the first Jod ship to turn up." He looked across the seated Jade as the seatrooper fussing over her, ripped the corner of a glossy drinks sachet for her. "What have you got there?"

"300ml of Dressellian prune juice. To balance her electrolytes and to re-hydrate her."

"We're klicks from a fresher; you sure you wanna go there?"

On SG-12's other side, Twenty-One cringed to himself, half expecting the Hand to react to being talked over, but then he had a response from the Cimmerian. He listened intently, tapping at the keyboard with his left hand, then leaned back in his chair, drawing Jade's attention to one of the large rectangular repeater screens. It showed a burgundy-hulled, finned ship with a tapered nose.

"Okay, Ma'am, the Special One is correct. This is the Jod vessel that attacked the Defender." The image then changed to that of two cylindrical blue-hulled vessels ganging up to fire a luminous inverted V of continuous scarlet fire upon the ship that was filming the vid. "Three capital ships of this type are on the outskirts of the system, and appear to be working independently of the larger vessel. These two were filmed from the April Dancer interdictor, which they subsequently destroyed."

Twenty-One and SG-12 decided to let Mara get a word in edgeways.

* * * *
Light-class destroyer, House of Vimal

Captain Jenkins shared his bridge personnel's silent distress at the loss of their sister ship, the Dawn Treader.

They had shared so much with her crew, during tours as well as during down time.

They were "good people".

Staff members at the consoles lining the back wall were fielding verbal damage control reports from other parts of the ship. Actual structural damage sounded minimal, from what Jenkins overheard, but there were a lot of minor injuries from the sudden movements within the ship's cramped confines.

A worried voice from the ComScan operator observed over the klaxon that he could not locate the Snow White in the rampant energies from the blast.

Jenkins roused himself "Kill those alarms. Shield and hull status?"

His second, sat in the chair to the right of him. "Hull intact, no breaches. Shields depleted, but holding at twenty-eight percent. We're doing a lot better than the closest frigate. It is venting plenty of atmosphere from a hull breach below the command deck."

"Understood. Advise the SEA troops to stand by for insertion onto Port Haven, and prepare to Red Space us into orbit above the third planet."

"What about the orders from Allegiance?" The first officer enquired, making no mention that their shields were too low right now for a jump into the Imperial blockade.

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, glancing at his colleague. "There were orders?"

"Yessir. Allegiance will continue hit and run attacks to diminish the Imperial defenses and then launch an all-out attack to retake Port Haven. The Jod and Mercs out here are to finish in our area of operation before connecting with the Allegiance for a grouped hit and run."

"Are we finished out here?"

The first officer pointed out the main port. "Well, the 'Delinquent is free, and our starfighters are mopping up."

ComScan reported that long-range sensors had picked up a large group TIEs inbound, two minutes out from contact with their forces.

"Give me all allied frequencies." The Captain ordered, pulling a voice pickup from his right armrest, the microphone's cable snaking from the device down into the light grey armrest.

ComScan cocked a finger at him to indicate access. Jenkins lifted the voice pickup close enough to speak: "House of Vimal to Snap Dragon, Firecracker, all ships. Large group of TIEs almost on top of us. Everyone break off, and fall back to the 'Delinquent's position." He thumbed the voice-pickup off, and looked again at his deputy. "Are our shields recharging?"

"Yes sir. Thirty-five percent."

"Okay, Helm. Take us to the DD."

"Sir."

Tag: Mara, Firecracker / Snap Dragon, all involved in dogfight

 

IC: Captain Timothy Stakes
Starboard, King II-class Battleship Allegiance, Outskirts of Whendyll System


"Captain, its been seven minutes," Lieutenant Commander Volkov stressed as she walked briskly beside him, "We're losing the element of surprise. Every minute that passes, the Imperials are strengthening their defensive formation."

The Captain and Lieutenant Commander were walking along the starboard side of the ship, expecting the light damage reported there. Along their route of travel, they ran into many crew members hastily repairing systems, running other errands, or at their battle stations. Those hurrying around quickly saluted in place to the two ship senior officers, then stumbled back to running to get their jobs done. Along their travel, the Captain stopped in front of one of the massive All purpose mass driver cannons.



"Lieutenant Commander, with a King II's extra power out put from the two back-up power generators, we could technically add more weapons, correct?"

"Captain, the Imperial block---"

"I asked a question, Lieutenant Commander," Stakes reinserted.

Volkov had to resist rolling her eyes, "Yes, Captain, technically. But you run the risk of short circuiting power to other systems if too much energy drain is demanded by the weapons. Everything is balance, sir. What is your thought process?" In the back of her mind, she felt that they were wasting a grand chance to suprise the Imperials. She was sure Commander Hilton, on the bridge, shared her view point. Or at least she hoped he did or she was serving under two very idealistic senior officers about the tactics of naval warfare. Just her luck!

"Ion cannons take more power then a mass driver cannon. And, if the King II's are made like the King I's, they were made with modification as a option."

"Correct, sir. Certain weapons on a King II can be interchanged, others cannot," a course Volkov would know this, she spent the last five months studying the King IIs before they officially rolled out; she was a group of handpicked senior officers selected to know everything about the new King IIs, "But if we replace the ion cannons, sir, we risk losing our mission role to capture enemy ships."

"Yes and no," Stakes said, "I would rather have the ion cannons up at the bow and reduce their armament to six from ten. That would increase our pursuit capabilities."

"But increase the difficulty of our gunners trying o disable a ship who don't have ion control," Volkov pointed out.

"Well then it looks like you and General Perez need to get our gunners up to speed, Lieutenant Commander. After this mission, I want us to increase our Mass Driver cannons from four along each port and starboard to eight each, for a total of sixteen. And I want our ion cannons reduced to six and moved to three top bow, three bottom bow. Minus four ion cannons total. Can the power systems handle the load?"

Volkov did the math in her head, "On paper, yes sir. In the field, that might be a different story. The power increase from four less ion cannons should balance out the much less used power from eight added projectile weapons."

"Good," Stakes said, "Oh and I want Perez assigned to this personally. And you. I want the All Purpose Mass Driver cannons equipped to fire Proton Cannon rounds similar in size to the All-Purpose Cannon."

"Captain, that would be..."

"Devastating to enemy ships. The All-Purpose Cannons can fire everything from flak to advanced concussion missiles to seismic charges. Flak and seismic charges are useful. Advanced concussion missiles are expensive and I really don't want to be wasting them, when we could reserve their use for the dedicated missile launchers we already have. And I want the All-Purpose Cannons to be more effective at long range then without the concussion missiles. So, I want something cheap, but effective. And that is a proton cannon, similiar to a J-1 semi-autonomous proton cannon round. They'll be in the same projectile round charges and won't suck energy from our power generators."

"Inventive, Captain. But unless we make it back to Jod space anytime soon, where do we expect to get such changes made?"

"Find a place, Lieutenant Commander. A safe place. This will be your first test if you can handle command decisions under my command."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, "Not like running a concussion missile battery in a heat of battle was hard. Just one misstep and we could use a good chunk of hull if one of those missiles misfired inside the chamber."

"There's a difference between fighting in the trenches and ordering soldiers to their deaths, Lieutenant Commander," Stakes said, "If you pick the wrong shipyard, we expose us all to the Outside Galaxy. If you pick the wrong armorer, the tubes misfire and we all die. Command decisions affect all. Royal Intelligence should have a list of safe ports for us to use. Start there."

"Yes, sir," Volkov said, adding, "And the time, sir, with Imperial forces?"

"Misdirection, Lieutenant Commander, is the key to victory. Patience."

"Great," Volkov said, "Tell me to have patience. That's like telling Vader to be nice for a day."

Stakes smiled, "Return to the concussion missile battery, Lieutenant Commander."

"Yes, Captain," she said and walked off briskly to the bow of the ship, shaking her head as she looked at her watch chrono. What was the Captain thinking wasting this much time?

Volkov was in one of the turbolifts heading back to one of the bow concussion missile batteries when she grabbed her comm, "General Perez, this is Lieutenant Commander Volkov. We have a special assignment from the Captain on a weapon system modification. I'll fill you in on the details ASAP. Volkov out."


*********************


Bridge


Stakes walked onto the bridge where Commander Hilton had the bridge, "Commander," Stakes said, nodding to his second-in-command, "Any word yet from the Eleventh Hour?"

"Communications have made contact, Captain. They are in position and awaiting our signal."

"Good," Stakes said, "Make it happen, Commander. Battle stations. All hands prepare for Red Space mini jump."

As lights turned red and alarms blared for battle stations, Stakes took his seat in the Captain's Chair as the Allegiance jumped into Red Space. Moments later, they were out of Red Space, on the opposite side of Port Haven with the Vigil-class corvette Express running a screen patrol with her TIEs in front of the looming Escort Carrier Voyage in the distance. The Escort Carrier had her full compliment of starfighters out in force, so Stakes knew any attack would be a costly win on his end assuming these TIE Pilots were your average TIE grunt; his ship would loose valuable time---and pilots---in defeating the Escort Carrier and allow other Imperial forces to move in for the kill.

When the Allegaince dropped out of Red Space, he had ordered all guns in range to fire. The Corvette didn't last long, despite sensors reading the Corvette desperately trying to navigate a hyperspace jump clear of the attack. The mini-jump was almost successful and as the Corvette exploded, her aft engines shot through her exploding mid and bow sections and into hyperspace, to be lost for ever in hyperspace.

"Captain, enemy Corvette TIEs are arranging an attack run. Our hanger bay is empty of alert scamble fighters and ready to engage."

Stakes was more about those enemy TIEs from the escort carrier moving in while they wasted their time here, "Negative. All forces exit the battlefield and alert the Eleventh Hour for the next stage of our operation."

"As ordered," Hilton said.

Soon, the Allegiance was gone, the green lasers from the handful of TIEs in range from the defeated Corvette traveling endlessly in space now where the King II had once been. The Imperials had now lost on two defensive fronts: a basic blockade and a blockade with increased starfighter function. But Stakes knew that the next attack would be bloody. The Imperials wouldn't play stupid, Stakes knew that. Stakes knew that just like he was preparing for his next attack with the Eleventh Hour, the Imperials were preparing their next moves. The initial chest moves had been played, the players had got their noses bloodied, now it was time for the real battle to begin.


TAG Sith-I-5 (Perez, Imperial Blockade change of blockade tactics---if needed), and all Mercs and Imperials in space
OOG: Sith, sorry if I'm using Hilton too much. I'm just trying to move the storyline along.

 

OOG: Correct my sensor recap of the battle if I am mistaken. I read through the recent posts and saw, to my knowledge, that the escort frigates were still in action.


IC: Captain Timothy Stakes
Bridge, King II-class Battleship Allegiance, Outskirts of Whendyll System


"Senors. Status?" Stakes asked sensors as he sat in his Captain's chair; Commander Hilton was engaged in a conversation with a junior deck officer from communications at the moment by his chair.

"The enemy Interdictor April Dancer has been destroyed; however, two Imperial EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigates remain in action, with support from a Vigil-class Corvette and reports show a Lancer-class frigate looming around as well. Several TIEs are surroundings the surviving Mercs. We have lost the Dawn Treader, sir. All hands lost."

Stakes nodded; now was not the time for emotion. He had heard of the Captain of the Dawn Treader before and if memory served right, he had had a conversation or two with the man back home at the main naval base headquarters before the civil war back home. Good man. Good commander. Good soldier. Stakes' concern was now the depleted forces of this group of allied ships. If the Imperials were daring enough to launch one of their heavy cruisers or escort carriers into this part of the battle, things could get messy correct. It was time to put the King II to the test.

"Helm, bring up to striking distance of one of those escort frigates. Have the Eleventh Hour remain hidden for now outside system in case we need her. Recall all starfighters for refuel and wait on deployment until ordered. Battle stations." Red warning lights and a bridge officer alerting the crew to battle stations went throughout the Battle ship

It was another short jump; Helm had done, once again, an amazing job of positioning them behind one of the escort frigates. The frigate's engines blazing hotly ahead, her shields already raised and gunners alert from previous battle.

"Shields to full," Stakes said as the frigate wasted no time in firing back, "All gunnery departments alert to all vectors of counter-attack. Scramble two squadrons for enemy screening action and defense; one squadron to the rear, the other split to port and starboard. All guns, fire. Hold nothing back. Concussion missiles, fire."

While the enemy frigate was more of a challenge then a Corvette---but not as bad as a escort carrier----Stakes' superior firepower quickly drained the frigate's aft shields in a matter of moments. Soon the naked armor plating was left, starting to tear into the frigate, ripping small explosions along the surface of the hull.

"Helm, bring us up by point 3. I want us at a superior position. Then all guns hit that mid section. Break her in two."

Stakes looked at his chrono. One minute had passed. Finally a volley of covering fire from the massive bow mounted DBY-827 heavy dual turbolaser turrets took out several shieldless turbolaser batteries. Then a trio of concussion missiles, moments after that, followed the cleared path made by the heavy turbolaser fire and hit the midsection. With the only concreted fire from the King II's bottom bow weapons, the escort frigate snapped with protest, not breaking in full yet, but almost hanging there, connected by a thin piece of bottom hull plating. A volley of concreted turbolaser fire from multiple gum emplacements finished it off and the King II broke off the attack, heading for Red Space. The starfighters recovered during the last seconds of the battle, the Battleship disappeared once again into Red Space.

Dropping out on the edge of the system, Commander Hilton was ordering damage reports and department check-in's while Stakes looked towards communications, "Comm, alert the Eleventh Hour to come along side us."

"Copy, Captain," communications said.

Stakes turned to Hilton, "Well?"

"Shields held fine. The frigate was able to give us more trouble, but the multiple concussion missiles, turbolaser fire, and even a few quad laser cannons joined in, took the fight out of her. Engagement time, two minutes, four seconds."

"Good," Stakes said, "That escort frigate being gone should help even things over there. We need to, however, keep the Imperial blockade busy."

Stakes watched in the distance as the Eleventh Hour dropped out of Red Space ahead of them, "Communications, escort formation to our starboard and aft. High on the position."

"Yes, Captain."

Stakes turned back to Hilton, "We won't be able to do this forever. Sooner or later the Imperials will have to strike in force somewhere. Either us, if we make a full force attack towards one of the heavy cruisers, or they will concrete their firepower towards our group outside of the system."

"We need to take out one of those heavy cruisers," Hilton pointed out, "And fast. If we take out one of those, we could convince the Empire this blockade of theirs is not worth it."

"But we risk the combined strength of all of those TIEs swarming us from patrols and other parts of the planet."

"It would still take a starfighter formation a good amount of time---and fuel---to scale the planet and get to one of those poles to assist the heavy cruiser in defense."

"And the planet's gravity well will hurt us if we need to make a fast escape. We could, however, force the Imperials into staying put. Alert all departments, battle stations. We're going to combine our forces around that Merc Interdictor and finish that battle before it gets any bigger. Then we leave system and plan for the final push. We've already pecked at their fleet assets; now we need to push before more Imperial forces arrive. Send a data-burst to the nearest Royal Intelligence assets. I need local Imperial command posts fooled into thinking there is nothing going on here. That should buy us some time."

"And how will Royal Intelligence do that?" Hilton asked.

"I'm not the spook, they are. Let them figure it out."

"Yes, sir," Hilton said, moving to send the request to Royal Intelligence.

Soon, the Allegiance and Eleventh Hour dropped out of Red Space to the rear of the DD, bringing up flank speed to reach the Merc and Jod formation. Soon, they were within range, the larger ships looming in their viewports.

"All Jod Commands, this is Captain Timothy Stakes of the Allegiance. We have the Light Destroyer Eleventh Hour with us. Where do you need us? I suggest we act quickly before more Imperial forces arrive."


TAG Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik (you may assume control of the Eleventh Hour), all players
OOG: I will be posting for Mara Jade later today; Imperial reinforcements, on Mara's front, would not be called because of her fear of failing the Emperor...at least for now. I would assume, furthermore, that there is not a lot of Imperial assets in this part of space. So Sith's two escort frigates may be the biggest thing the Imps have in the area; and any other reinforcements would take some time to reach the star system in any reasonable amount of time.

 

OOC: Bravo I had tentatively placed a number of ImpStars, five tops, not that far off, under Colonel Thaw, as part of my side-mission to capture a Jod vessel. If Dawn Treader had not exploded in our face, my escort frigates would have taken her over there.

With the loss of the Dawn Treader, the Imperial frigate Cash and the Hard Eight disabled, if you want more Imp assets, they are available.

---

IC: Maria Van Helsing (MVH-1001), Roly (RLY-1219), Mary Formal, dirt road, site of the Taskforce Kingfisher tragedy, crashed shuttle.
Location: Port Haven' east coast


The deafening sound of the village bombardment shook Maria awake from where she had been sitting back to back with the biker scout she had learned was nicknamed Roly, sprawling on her back to his left, with her armoured legs in the air.

She quickly used the momentum to do a backward roll over her right shoulder pad - the reverse of a judo breakfall - to get onto one knee as quick as she could, her E-11 ready.

Roly meanwhile, his support gone, sprawled flat out in the spot she had just been sitting. After a pause, he climbed to his feet, and looked in the direction of the fishing village.

She craned her neck to see the pyrotechnics arcing from over the treeline to blast the village. apart, the huts of dried straw going up in orange flames, and the wooden platforms holding up the huts and extending out over the blue waters splintering and exploding, water fountaining where debris or projectiles cannoned into it.

"What in the Original Light?" she queried rhetorically, not expecting.

Roly's body language expressed mock despair. "Ohhh. There goes the neighbourhood."

"Literally."

Both troops leaped away from a crashing sound to their left, Maria having to spring more than her colleague, as a line of trees from the left side of the road whipped down in front of them, followed by the tapired grey nose of an S-1 FireHawke Heavy Repulsor Tank, which slid out onto the road, and turned away to face the village, before stopping.

Several speeeder bikes followed, their riders waving or nodding to Roly, probably more to the uniform than to the man, since he still had his helmet on - they both did, to filter out the smell from the dead.

Several Army troops walked out of the jungle. Special Mission Troopers, she noted.

Another tank of the same type came out of jungle further down the road, with a similar number of escort bikes and men.

Maria waited for the near tank to come to a halt, then stepped up to the side and hauled herself onto the moisture-slicked carapace, and kneeling before the closed circular hatch, rapped her knuckles hard on it.

"Who is it?" Came from the inside.

"MVH-1001. Sergeant. The Monster Squad. We're with the original strike force, but got separated when TIEs firebombed the forest for some reason. Can you call our lieutenant, let him know you have found us?"

"The Monster Squad? That would be DLT-6479. Seventy-Nine? Yeah, I will let him know. I shall also inform Major Peterdon."

"Thanks." Maria turned over to sit on the tank, pulling her knees up to help with balance. When she looked over to see where Roly was, she could see him riding pillion on one of the new speeder bikes.

* * * *
Crashed shuttle

"I certainly hope it doesn’t come down to that. My soldiering skills are a bit out of practice," Salmakk responded to her comment about the abundance of weapons. "though I’m sure it’s similar to swimming. Before I came to Port Haven the first time, it had been at least decade since I had last swam," he said, recalling the memory. "But when I landed on the beach for the first time I ran straight for the ocean without hesitation, on instinct. I’m sure my soldiering instincts are still intact."

Mary smiled at his swimming reference. Seas made of water wasn't conducive to her wellbeing, so she had never tried to swim in them, though she had been forced to adapt to rain, since that stuff could be upon you so fast and so often, it was do that or die.

He sighed. "Anyway. I had always heard stories about a village on this side of the island full of what people around Port Haven called ‘tree people’. I always thought they were just myths, but it appears not. We could go stake out the village and see what’s up, but I'm not entirely sure what good that would do. We could also stay here to monitor comms for a while. From the sounds of it, a missing shuttle is probably pretty low on the priority list right now, and we would be able to see them coming assuming the sensors weren't damaged in the...erm, landing."

She was poking idly among the shrouded shelves when she heard the Mon Calamari make another statement.

"We still need to deal with the pilot. It would probably be best to kill him."

The mmphing of protest from the bound Imperial brought a smile to her face. "That was my plan too, earlier," she lilted, "then someone pulled him off me, and proved that he was useful to keep around."

Mary Formal stepped backwards out of the walk-in armoury with her head cocked in curiousity.

Sounded like the next door neighbours' kid had been given a drum kit, with the percussion deadened by the wall between the houses, but given that she was in a crashed spaceship within a steaming jungle, she suspected another cause.

"Do you hear that? I'm gonna take a look." Mary wheeled to the back hatch and moved over to the door controls, palming the Open button.

The rear wall opened out and lowered to form the vehicle boarding ramp, and as a byproduct, allowed the hot humid atmosphere of the jungle, invade the rarified atmosphere inside the landing craft.

Even before the ramp settled on the parallel line of flattened trees that formed their runway, she could see multi-coloured flares and glows over the silhouetted treeline.

"You know? I do not think we can be that far from that village."

Mary looked out the back of the shuttle, at the trench their landing had mowed through the trees.

There were yellow liana vines stretched from the shuttle's sides to somewhere aft of them, disappearing into the shadows.
Taut, the vines were singing and vibrating. As if they were alive.

Tag: Strike Force Snake Head, Salmakk

 

IC: Mara Jade
Hovercraft


"Okay, Ma'am, the Special One is correct. This is the Jod vessel that attacked the Defender." The image then changed to that of two cylindrical blue-hulled vessels ganging up to fire a luminous inverted V of continuous scarlet fire upon the ship that was filming the vid. "Three capital ships of this type are on the outskirts of the system, and appear to be working independently of the larger vessel. These two were filmed from the April Dancer interdictor, which they subsequently destroyed."

Jade looked over it. She had two options if she chose to not call in for support. Her first option was to send two of the Heavy Cruisers in with all of the Vigil-class Corvettes. That would provide firepower and mobility for the strike force to destroy those Lights and the DD. But it would reduce the blockade to 2 Escort Carriers and a Heavy Cruiser for blockade and defense; while the numerous TIEs from the Escort Carriers would help achieve this, the TIEs and capital ships would be restricted to defense and have very little in the way of offensive firepower, leaving the blockade helpless to defend itself from that Jod battleship that was picking her forces off one ship at a time.

Her other option was to recall all forces to Port Haven, strengthen the defenses, and either defeat the enemy by excellent defense or hold out until Imperial reinforcements. This option made the most sense: strength in numbers.

But, she had a third option. A dangerous option. But one that, as a Hand, she was trained to do. To complete.

She looked over to the Saber Guard as two more Vigils were confirmed losses. One Escort Carrier and two Corvettes gone. "What other support did you bring with the Hard Eight? I need them immediately."


TAG Sith-I-5

 

IC: Ron Darkins
Whendyll System Snap Dragon

Ron watched as the tractor beam lowered the N1 onto the floor as he walked forward ready to greet the Merc. His comlink demanded attention as he stopped at the base of the fighters ladder. "Go ahead."

"House of Vimal to Snap Dragon, Firecracker, all ships. Large group of TIEs almost on top of us. Everyone break off, and fall back to the 'Delinquent's position."

Darkins frowned as he relayed information to make the jump and relay the information to their fighters as he steadied himself against the deck. He watched as all of their fighters landed onto the deck.

Sith-I-5

IC: Fress Colias
Whendyll system

Fress pulled her fighter away as she detected a pair of proton torpedoes from Cochise head towards the fighter she had declared as hers. She hissed in anger as the V-wing turned into a fireball. "Firecracker to Cochise, you nearly nailed me. When we make it out of this one, we're going to have a long talk about not shooting when I say he's mine."

"House of Vimal to Snap Dragon, Firecracker, all ships. Large group of TIEs almost on top of us. Everyone break off, and fall back to the 'Delinquent's position."

"Saber, plot a micro jump to where the DD is located and download it to all our fighters," Fress ordered with a frown.

Saber beeped and within twenty seconds beeped again. "Download the program into the navcomputers and let's get out of here. Listen up, Saber is downloading a micro jump to the DD into your navcomputers. As soon as the download completes make the jump."

CPL_Macja, Sith-I-5, kommando104, SWBob anyone else I have missed

 

IC: Nick Skyland, Charlie Watertin, Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook (NPCs)
Bridge, Johnny Boy, Actualize Station


"So what do we do?" Nick said matter-of-factly.

Charles scratched his chin as he, Nick, and Russel Cook all stood on the otherwise empty bridge, a Jod technician just finishing up and closing his tool box and exiting the bridge, "That's a good question. I'm not of command rank, but..."

"Oh no you don't!" Cook protested, lifting up his hands, "No way. I'm a doctor, not a general or something!"

"Well," Dak announced as he and Dak entered the bridge, "Someone is going to have to do something. Half of our recruits are on Port Haven. Not to mention our Captain. And a Imperial blockade around them."

"I told you we should have knocked them out and just done it ourselves," Ler said as the bridge doors closed.

"You've been put in charge, Dak. Per Taller. So why can't you fly the ship?" Nick asked.

"No one is going to listen to a droid," Dak replied.

"And especially a Doctor!" Russel said, protesting, "I am NOT going in there to recruit!"

"Then give me the authority to do it," Charles said, "I'll get you a crew."

"Your drunk----almost all the time!" Russel protested.

"But we're still standing here alive, now aren't we?"

"He has a point," Ler said, "He does do his job."

"But Lasso said no Jod!"

"He did," Charles said, "And we will."


TBC

 

GM Approved!

Name: Kilo Typhon
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Species: Human
Homeworld: Atzerri
Affiliation: Mercs

Personality
---Traits: Honorable, Trustworthy, and follows all orders given. A ground-fighting tactical specialist.
---Likes: Weapons, fighting, learning new things. Being a sarcastic jerk.
---Dislikes: Laziness, anything slow, and politics.
---Habits: None

Appearance
---Skin Color: White/Tan
---Hair Color: Light Brown
---Eye Color: Blue
---Clothing:

---Other Attributes: Tall, well built, but not in spectacularly strong.
---Other Details: The orange plates that make up his armor can be taken off, but Kilo very rarely wears clothes other than the black undersuit.

Weapons: DC-17M Interchangeable Weapons System, WESTAR-6 blaster pistol, Knuckle plate vibro blade

Starship
---Name: T-65 X-Wing Starfighter
---Class: Starfighter
---Hyperdrive Class: 1.0
---Weapon(s): Laser cannons x2, Ion cannons x2
---Shields: Defender Deflector Shield Generator (50 SBD)
---Sublight Speed: 1050 hm/h
---Crew: 1
---Passenger(s): Pilot + droid
---Max Cargo (kg): 110
---Interior Description: Black interior
---Other Details: Orange and black paint cover the craft, wth markings consistent with the pattern on his armor.

Astromech
---Name: R4-P77
---Series: R4-P Series
---Appearance: Orange body with white accessing plates. (Imagine R2's body with orange instead of blue)

The Force
---Sensitivity: Base
---Religion:
---Lightsaber
-----Crystal(s):
-----Blade(s): Single
----Color(s): Green
-----Handle Description(s): Black with silver highlights. Simple, without cosmetic improvements.
---Force Abilities: Push, shock, jump, and speed
---Force Weakness:
---Other Force Object(s):

Biography

---Personal History: Born on the small planet of Atzerri , Kilo grew up to a family of poor, independent and anti-governmental small-time crop farmers. His mother, a clerical contractor of the local Imperial Stormtrooper garrison, was killed when Kilo was only six years old. His father, suspicious of the causes against her death, began to speak out against the Empire.

Kilo's father was found dead shortly before Kilo's eighth birthday due to an accidental overexposure to experimental fertilizer. The newly found orphan was forced to move in with his uncle, also a farmer, and found himself in an abusive and altogether less-than-ideal home. Given only the bare minimum in every way, Kilo was forced to realize the maximum potential of every tool and utensil given to him.

---Military History: Kilo enlisted at the Atzerri Imperial Academy at the age of 17. A small academy led by aged and underachieving soldiers, the AIA brass realized quickly that they had somebody special with Kilo. He was transferred to the larger Corellian academy and rose through the ranks to graduate near the top of his class in every field outside of starfighter combat.

His first field assignment was to find a fleeing Rebel soldier. Imperial Intelligence tracked him to a small village and sent Kilo and a small contingent of Stormtroopers to burn the village to the ground. Kilo realized the horrors the Empire would employ in order to reach their goals and suddenly found himself at odds with everything he knew.

Kilo's team killed the Rebel, and Kilo was left no options other than to steal the Rebel's own X-Wing Starfighter and flee the planet. He managed to make his way out of the system and found himself alone and confused. He ditched all of his Imperial gear and returned home to Atzerri. There, he found his grandfather's armor as well as his family's small fortune from before both of his parents were killed. After Imperial agents tracked him home, he returned to his drifter days, looking for somebody to take him in...

---Traumatic Experiences: Witnessed the death of his father firsthand.

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

IC: Kilo Typhon
Location: Hyperspace

Imperial runaway Kilo Typhon rolled his head around his shoulders in an attempt to stretch his neck and shoulder muscles. It hardly worked, and after trying for the third time he gave up with a loud sigh. As he did, his armor clinked and clanked against his chair and the surrounding cabin.

In hyperspace, aboard a small ship like his newly liberated T-65 X-Wing Starfighter, there was not a whole bunch to do aside from sleep, meditate, and think. Sleep? Boring. Meditate? Not really Kilo’s style. But thinking…he was used to thinking.

Thinking about how horribly he was contracted inside the small cabin wearing this bulky armor.

“Sev?” he asked.

The orange astromech droid mounted in the back of the X-Wing beeped a reply. While the droid did not belong to Kilo his until a few days ago, Kilo had grown to like R4-P77 or “Sev”, as Kilo called him after the multiple sevens in the droid’s name. The droid’s response was translated onto Kilo’s front display. What?

“Is there any way we can strip some things out of this cockpit so I can sit more comfortably?”

Sev beeped back quickly, No. Get rid of your ancient armor.

Kilo smiled. “No can do, Sev. You know that this was my grandfathers. And he got it hand-crafted from a bunch of metal-workers in the Outer Rim. This thing is one of a kind,” he looked down at the orange plating that covered him. It was bulky, yes, but he felt far more protected in it than he ever had in the standard stormtrooper armor. “And I’ve got nothing bet-.”

Alerts flared all over every display in the cockpit. The craft was making a forced emergency disengagement from hyperspace. Energy readings were off the charts. Sev launched into a series of shrill and fast-pressed beeps. “What-?” Kilo started.

The starlines all around him dissolved into the blackness of space. But it was unlike anything he had ever seen. All around him, a fierce battle raged. Large carriers, frigates, and destroyers battled it out against each other over a planet almost directly in front of him. Dozens of starfighters flew around the larger ships, shooting at each other with cannons and missile launchers and other weapons.

Kilo rhetorically asked the only question that came to mind. “What is going on?”

 

IC: Samantha Irisa, Captain Yavscout, the Firespray-31, Detective Wyms, inside the Snap Dragon Light-class destroyer, respectively
Whendyll System outskirts


Approaching the Snap Dragon's exposed hangar bay hard and fast, Samantha's Firespray cut left to fly along the destroyer's hull to its front end, while the Mako banked in ther opposite direction, while Yavscout's black N-1 starfighter flew straight in, where an internal tractor beam grabbed it and lowered it to the deck.

Inside the cockpit, the elf knuckled all the toggles and buttons into the OFF position, the now visible shield outside dissipating, and section after section of lights on his control board going dark, and even the Heads-Up Display vanishing.

He hit the canopy release, and slithered out the gap between the rim of his cockpit, and the rising canopy oval, before it was fully elevated.

Yav slid and clambered over the chilled, moisture-drenched wing, and landed on the deck beside one of the ship's officers looking at him through the handholds of the ladder that the elf could have used if he had known that it was there.

The officer was listening to his comlink, and snapped out instructions which seemed to lead to several starfighters coming into the hangar as well.

Yavscout looked around for some sign of the ship he was meant to borrow, and quietly waited for the officer to look ready to be addressed.

He was acutely aware that he was a guest on their warship, so, some patience was necessary.

* * * *
The Detective Wyms

Irisa held onto her composure. Escorting her Uncle Yav's stricken starfighter through the maelstrom of other ships and their deadly ordnance had been the most frightening time that she could remember, and now that he was safely aboard the Snap Dragon, she could feel the shakes coming on, but she could not afford to give in to them just yet.

She put her craft on a straight line intercept course for a V-Wing that was chasing an ARC-170, and catching it steadily.

Red fire from her GN-40 twin blaster cannon speared after the compact little craft, but the Imperial starfighter caught its Jod counterpart first, reducing the latter to a golden fireball.

Samantha sighed.

"House of Vimal to Snap Dragon, Firecracker, all ships. Large group of TIEs almost on top of us. Everyone break off, and fall back to the 'Delinquent's position."

She didn't have a callsign yet, so did not verbally respond, instead firing one of her torps after the Imp, while trying to re-acquire the Mako on her scopes, and turned away from the Imperial while her torpedo spiralled after it.

TheBantha-II-class assault transport that was the Mako was already burning ions in the direction of the sixty klick distant Delicate Delinquent Immobiliser 418 interdictor, when she caught up with it, flying along several hundred metres to its left.

An X-Wing reverted from hyperspace in their path, forcing Samantha to bank her Firespray to the left of the orange and black craft, while the Mako jinked to the right of the new snubship.

"What is going on?" The new vessel transmitted. Male voice.

"If a large group of TIE fighters sounds like bad news to you," She sent back, deliberately getting in first before someone called the poor frakker, 'Nugget', "you probably want to follow us."

Irisa checked her own sensors. They were no way as long-range as those of the Kingdom of Jod destroyer which had warned them, but even her systems could see countless TIEs swarming towards them.

She hoped the newcomer made their decision soon.

Tag: Ron Darkins, Kilo Typhon

 

IC: Ron Darkins
Whendyll System Snap Dragon

Ron walked over to the pilot and gave a tight smile. "I'm Captain Darkins and in charge of Snap Dragon. I'm under the impression from Squadron Leader Colias that you are in need of a fighter due to severe damage. I would like to quickly go over the controls with you. I hope you're a quick learner," he said as he led the way to a fighter sitting all alone no where near the other fighters.

IC: Fress Colias
Whendyll system

Fress looked around as she noted the fighters beginning to make the the micro jump to where the DD was sitting. She watched as an X-wing reverted from hyperspace. She knew it wasn't one of hers due to the original paint. Before she had a chance to say anything Saber beeped at her as the channel changed. "Good work Saber," she said as a male voice came over the frequency.

"What is going on?"

"If a large group of TIE fighters sounds like bad news to you," "you probably want to follow us."

"Firespray, pick a callsign and let me know what to call you or I could pick it for you," Fress commented over the comms. "I received word from the Snap Dragon that Safety is onboard. Make the jump to the DD and let me handle the new comer," she swung her X-wing beside the new comer as she noted the TIEs were two minutes away from firing range. "Saber, download the micro jump to his atromech," Saber beeped in acknowledgement. "X-wing this is Guardian Leader, aka Firecracker. My astromech is downloading a microjump into your navcomputer. But first, what is your purpose for dropping into a hot zone?"

Tag tyratoku, Sith-I-5

 

IC: Jensen Visak
Location: Whendyll Systaem

Jensen performed his maneuver perfectly. Well almost perfectly. Jensen had shot his Proton torpedo, then performed his smugglers reverse, fliping his ship 180 degrees to head in the opposite heading upside-down of his previous orientation. He wave at Gorax Four as they passed each other, cockpit to cockpit, noticing a look of confusion as he flew past. Then the Proton Torpedo exploded, the fireball expanding to engulf Gorax Four noticing it too late to pull out.. I would have loved to have seen his face.

Jensen didnt make it with out a scratch though. Alarms blared in his cockpit as he flipped switches, trying to turn them all off. His shields were down to ten percent, though they were starting to rise as he poured more energy into charging them. He heard Firecracker rip into someone named Cochise for shooting down the craft he had just destroyed. "Firecracker to Cochise, you nearly nailed me. When we make it out of this one, we're going to have a long talk about not shooting when I say he's mine." Unable to let someone else take the blame for something he did, he spoke up, "That was me Firecracker, he was trailing me pretty close so I did what I had to. Kill or be killed. You could have had him if you would have got there sooner."

"House of Vimal to Snap Dragon, Firecracker, all ships. Large group of TIEs almost on top of us. Everyone break off, and fall back to the 'Delinquent's position."
"Download the program into the navcomputers and let's get out of here. Listen up, Saber is downloading a micro jump to the DD into your navcomputers. As soon as the download completes make the jump."

Rex entered in the co-ordinates into the nav-computer as Jensen watched his shield levels, they were back up to forty percent already, but climbing slowly. Lets hope we make this jump before those TIEs get here. I could use a refuel and reload before I get back out there.

Tag: JediFalcon @anyothers in the battle.

 

IC: Kilo Typhon
Whendyll System

The X-Wing continued forward, momentum carrying it away from its emergency hyperspace dump.

Before Kilo could even look around to gather his bearings straight, a large Bantha-II class assault transport rolled by in front of him. At the same time, a ship buzzed behind him faster than he could see.

The pilot, a female, spoke to him on an open communications channel. "If a large group of TIE fighters sounds like bad news to you," the woman paused for a second. "You probably want to follow us."

Kilo squirmed in his seat. "Sev!" he called back to his droid, "Get this thing going and follow that pilot!" he pointed as the lights of the starfighter's engine trailed away ahead of him.

He could not fly to save his life, and in all honesty would have likely been stuck on Atzerri when the Imperials showed up if not for R4-P77. The droid dutifully engaged the right systems and the craft banked hard to the left to follow the other ship.

"Sev, run a scan on all the ships in the area. Who are these guys?"

The droid was silent for a moment, and then information began to pop up on his front displays. Some ships were clearly Imperial, but they had odd distinguishing marks and their identification tags labelled them differently than anything Kilo had ever seen. There were also a bunch of ships tagged as simply "Guardians" or "Mercs", whatever those were. And finally, sprinkled with everything else, were a bunch of ships tagged simply as "Jod".

"What in blazes?" Kilo asked.

Another craft flew by behind Kilo's ship and he strained to look back to see it. Another voice spoke into his helmet's speakers, "X-wing this is Guardian Leader, aka Firecracker. My astromech is downloading a microjump into your navcomputer. But first, what is your purpose for dropping into a hot zone?"

Kilo glanced at one of his displays and saw a confirmation from Sev - they did, in fact, have a brand new microjump ready to rock in their computer.

"Kilo Typhon to Firecracker. You tell me. I was in the middle of a random jump running from Imperials and all of a sudden I get an emergency drop from hyperspace into your little knitting group," he joked. "I have no idea what is going on, but I'll follow your lead. Ready to launch the jump on your Go."

Tag: JediFalcon , Sith-I-5

 

IC: Fress Colias
Whendyll System

"That was me Firecracker, he was trailing me pretty close so I did what I had to. Kill or be killed. You could have had him if you would have got there sooner."

"Sorry Cochise, you and Greenie fired proton torpedos at the same time," Fress quickly apologized but rolled her eyes as Nugget led into a partial lecture. Information scrolled across her screen about Nugget coming from the Jod Military. Kriff, I swear they have everyone in the galaxy under surveilance. She grinned noting his age. Seven years younger then her.. "Spare me the lecture, Greenie. I fought in the last war and know about the kill or be killed rule. I believe you have a microjump to make."

"Kilo Typhon to Firecracker. You tell me. I was in the middle of a random jump running from Imperials and all of a sudden I get an emergency drop from hyperspace into your little knitting group," he joked. "I have no idea what is going on, but I'll follow your lead. Ready to launch the jump on your Go."

Fress smiled tightly to herself. Seems he picked the wrong system to drop into if he was running from the Imperials. "If you want to help take it to the Imperials, you're more then welcome to join us. Pending you pass our background check. We're done here for now. You can make that jump now."

SWBob, kommando104, tyratoku

 

IC: Kilo Typhon
Whendyll System

Sev spun the starfighter in a tight circle again, and Kilo felt his stomach drop. He turned his off his open communications and spoke only to the astromech droid in the back. “Cut it out, Sev. Keep doing that and I’ll be puking all over this cockpit.”

The sounds that came from the droid almost seemed to be laughter. On his screen, the droid’s translation was simple – Grow up.

Kilo groaned again as the craft took another spin. Kilo was not even sure if the Imperial ships were within firing range or not, or if Sev was just trying to have some fun.

As they came out of another roll, Kilo heard the second pilot’s voice break into his helmet’s speakers again. “If you want to help take it to the Imperials, you're more then welcome to join us. Pending you pass our background check,” Firecracker said. Kilo tilted his head to look out at her craft, far ahead.

“Background check?” he whispered to only himself and his droid. “What-?”

Firecracker continued. “We're done here for now. You can make that jump now.”


“Alright,” Kilo told her. He turned and looked for the correct switch. Speaking only to Sev, he asked, “Uh, Sev? I’m not sure which switch to hit. Care to help me-,” before he could continue, the stars all around him lengthened into starlines. Apparently, the microjump worked.

Tag: JediFalcon , other ships in the area [/b]

 

IC: Cain Varss
Whyndell System outskirts

Cain flew off from his cover detail as Safety made it into the hanger of the foreign warship, and Cain moved back into the fray.

The black and gold Z-95’s shields were stuck at eleven percent, not a good sign. Even after diverting a little power from his lasers into recharging them nothing happened. Damn, the shield generator must have been damaged. He reverted power from charging them back to his lasers and engines.

"Firecracker to Cochise, you nearly nailed me. When we make it out of this one, we're going to have a long talk about not shooting when I say he's mine."

“Not sure that was me Firecracker,” he said frowning at the accusation. Though, he really wasn’t sure because he had pulled off fighter as soon as he fired the missiles. The hint of anger behind the accusation made him want to snap off another retort using a few choice words, but the newcomer, Jensen, spoke up.

"That was me Firecracker, he was trailing me pretty close so I did what I had to. Kill or be killed. You could have had him if you would have got there sooner."

Cain saw the TIEs appear on the edge of his sensors. Sithspawn. He decided not to bother with a response. If they wanted to stay and worry about who almost hit who with a bunch of TIEs incoming, they could do so. He downloaded the mini-jump into his navcomp and turned toward the correct heading.

He listened as Fress finished up with Jensen and the most recent entrant into the battle, Typhon, and then Typhon made the jump. Cain decided it was time to followed suit.

“Cochise here, I’m making the jump.”

WHIR-WHIR-WHIR-WHIR

He punched the button only to hear the awful sounds of his hyperdrive failing to start up then wind down. Emergency messages flashed across the screen in his cockpit. At least it shut down and didn’t send me into a black hole.

“Cochise to Firecracker, change in plans. When that shuttle exploded it took my hyperdrive with it. I’m going to hail Snap Dragon and see if they’ll let me land and hopefully let me get her fixed up.”

“Cochise to Snap Dragon. I am a new member of Guardian Squadron and apparently my hyperdrive got hit. I can’t make the micro-jump with the rest of the squadron and those TIEs are getting close. Requesting to land and any other assistance you can offer.”

The nose of his Z-95 swung toward the hanger. He began thinking of a contingency plan if Snap Dragon said no but came up with nothing.

Tag: JediFalcon, others in the battle

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

IC: Salmakk Neot
Port Haven

While Mary had stepped into the armory Salmakk had returned to the cockpit and sat at the comm station, ignoring the pilot once more. He had entered the access code to the comm station but it was no good. The ‘landing’ had done a number on the system. He thought about trying to repair it, but the problem could have been any number of things from an external sensor node on the ship being damaged to the circuitry being fried.

Then he looked down at the pilot, stripped of his flightsuit, and had an idea. He heard Mary call to him and open the rear hatch.

"Do you hear that? I'm gonna take a look."

He moved back into the vehicle bay and was greeted with the nice tropical humidity of Port Haven. So much of the planet’s climate reminded the Mon Calamari of his homeworld Dac. If he had to die here, at least it was similar to home, though he would leave if it meant survival. That window seemed to be closing rapidly, however. He came up next to Mary and looked out at his handiwork.

"You know? I do not think we can be that far from that village."

“It seems that way. I don’t know what else the imps would be attacking way out here.”

He was silent for a moment, first admiring the handiwork that was the brand new landing strip, and second fixing his gaze to the dancing flashes above the treeline.

“The shuttle comms are dead and I don’t think I can repair them, though I could still give it a try. I’m just not sure we have time for that.”

Salmakk kept watching the colors above the trees for a moment. They were pretty, like fireworks, but he knew the destruction those colors were causing.

He changed his gaze to Mary and looked her up and down, more looking at the flightsuit she had acquired than checking her out. The old fish realized that’s how it might be interpreted, but he mentally shrugged at the notion.

“With them so close, it seems we might have moved from rocky rapids to the edge of a waterfall. Did that pilot have some sort of comlink in his flightsuit? We might be able to use that to monitor how things are going with the imps and when we can expect them to drop in on their missing shuttle.”

Tag: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Major Tom Rompkins
Whendyll System Snap Dragon

“Cochise to Snap Dragon. I am a new member of Guardian Squadron and apparently my hyperdrive got hit. I can’t make the micro-jump with the rest of the squadron and those TIEs are getting close. Requesting to land and any other assistance you can offer.”

Tom answered the call as he glanced for Brent Hykins who was in charge of space in the hangar bays down below in case they needed to bring extra fighters aboard. "Ensign Hykins, is there room for a Z-95 headhunter?"

"There is room for three more fighters but that will be the limit," Hykins answered with a frown. "We lost two of our men five minutes ago. They got caught up in the Dawn Treaders debris," he was silent for a few minutes as Tom nodded feeling grief well up in him but he quickly pushed it back down. He'll have time to grieve for his brother and the others they lost later.

"I will relay the message to Darkins to expect one more fighter before we make the jump," Tom answered as he pressed down on the comlink. "Cochise, we have room for your fighter and we'll figure out a way to fix her or lend you one of ours."

kommando104

 

IC: Cain Varss
Whendyll System outskirt, about to be Snap Dragon hanger

"Cochise, we have room for your fighter and we'll figure out a way to fix her or lend you one of ours."

Cain grinned as he throttled up to get to the hanger as quick as possible.

"Copy Snap Dragon. Heading in now."

Lend me one of their own? These Jod people must owe a lot to the Mercs. He didn't want to be out of the action for long. With all the other newcomers, everything felt like a competition and with his fighter in its current state, he needed to save every second he could. The life and death thing played in the back of Cain's mind, much like any former TIE pilot. As a TIE pilot, you get so used to the idea of dying that at some point it stops phasing you.

As his Z-95 passed some debris he could swear he saw Kate's face in a half destroyed TIE cockpit, but a double take confirmed that he was just seeing things. That was the kind of distraction that could kill him. Since he had pursued flying with the Mercs, him seeing Kate had decreased, but this incident reminded him there was still a significant mental hurdle to tackle in his mind.

He shook his head trying to get it out of his mind then looked up. He was about to collide with Snap Dragon. He nosed down and found the hanger entrance and once he was in a tractor beam slowed his craft and he cut to repulsors and set the Z-95 down in a space near the N-1 starfigher he assumed was Safety's. It wasn't a hard assumption with the black and silver scheme of the fighter, not to mention how shot to hell it looked.

Cain pulled his helmet off and grabbed the rag he had deemed his 'sweat rag' from the side of his cockpit and wiped his forehead and neck. Combat had always gotten his cardiovascular system worked up and as a result, he sweated like an nerd asking a girl to a dance, not to mention that one of the upgrades to his Z-95 dissipated some of the heat generated by the power supply through the whole craft. Sure, it made things slightly uncomfortable during combat, but Cain hardly ever noticed. He was more thankful with the quicker recharge rates he got out of his craft from the modification.

When the cockpit slid forward he couldn't help but smile as the cool air of the hanger washed over him. It only took him another second to remember that he had work to do. Cain sat up and pulled himself out of the cockpit and hopped down to the deck, not waiting for a ladder or anything. He pulled off the life support gear on his flak vest and then his flak vest. He looked at the thing and then tossed it to the deck realizing how useless it was compared to the new armor he bought at Smuggler's Run. He opened the cargo compartment and attached the life support the chest piece of clone trooper armor he painted black then tossed it into the cockpit for him to put on when he took off. Cain unzipped the top half of his flightsuit down to his belt then tied the arms around his waist, exposing the black t-shirt he wore beneath the flightsuit. He planned to take full advantage of the hanger's cold condition to help him cool off before he got back in his fighter.

Part of Cain wanted to stay near his fighter and figure out how to fix it, but Safety was over there, and Cain figured it wouldn't hurt to introduce himself while he had the time. For all he knew, the next time he flew out of this ship he would be dead. Besides, the hanger techs didn't seem to be in any hurry. Cain was about to walk over to the man when someone approached him. They began conversing. Cain's newblood instinct told him that this was probably not a conversation for him. Instead he just sat by his fighter and waited for the hanger techs to come by.

Tag: Sith-I-5, JediFalcon

 

IC: Chief Engineer Tim Williams, Delicate Delinquent
Location: Whendyll System outskirts


None of the remaining four shuttles had turned and run for the DD, but, after several moments of indecision, followed their escort fighters to take on the Vigil that had taken one of their number.

Shielded, armed, and fairly manouverable, it was holding them off gamely.

The white beam flared out, contacting and spearing through an Aka'jor-class as it came round for another attack run.

* * * *
Delicate Delinquent bridge

Bridge Officer Bob huffed his way onto the bridge, and came to a halt beside the command chair.

"You called for me?"

"Well, there is no point now," an annoyed Williams groused, looking up at the Jod liason officer, "I was going to lead a Go Team of engineers to take over that Neb-B that got damaged, but then that blasted ship-"

"The Allegiance." The female soldier supplied from behind them.

"Arrived behind it, and utterly destroyed it. Although," the Merc conceded, "considering the fight it put up, it probably wasn't going to be the pushover I hoped for. Anyway, she, Allegiance just popped up behind us. Sorry about the proximity alarm."

"Signal coming in from them." Flavin reported.

"On speaker."

"All Jod Commands, this is Captain Timothy Stakes of the Allegiance. We have the Light Destroyer Eleventh Hour with us. Where do you need us? I suggest we act quickly before more Imperial forces arrive."

"Allegiance. This is Chief Engineer Tim Williams aboard the Delicate Delinquent." He paused. Then something about two Jod warships arriving without warning behind him, prompted him to not go off at the captain for destoying that Neb-B. "If you could see your way clear to hitting that Imperial corvett in front of us, we would be most grateful."

Tag: Bravo

 

IC: Captain Yavscout, Samantha Irisa, aboard the Snap Dragon, and the Detective Wymns, respectively
Location: Whendyll System outskirts


Craning his neck to sightsee while the officer was talking on his comlink, Yavscout had spotted an SD trooper, dressed all in black, standing by one of the hangar’s internal doorways.

The man’s uniform reminded the elf wistfully off his own black gnomeskin suit, lost at Christophsis when Lord Vader had ripped a hole in the hull of the Strident Haze frigate.

In Tunare’s Name, he thought, that seems like an Age ago.

"I'm Captain Darkins and in charge of Snap Dragon."

Yav snapped his attention back up to the Jod. "Captain Yavscout. The 'Delinquent. Uh, that's the name of my command, not why I haven't got a proper job." The elf lapsed into silence at Darkins' tight smile.

"I'm under the impression from Squadron Leader Colias that you are in need of a fighter due to severe damage."

"Yes sir."

"I would like to quickly go over the controls with you." Darkins turned and led the way through the increasingly crowded hangar towards an isolated fighter with a long nose. "I hope you're a quick learner."

"I have my moments." Yav quipped as he hurried to keep up with the taller human. He vocalised his main worry, sidestepping to avoid a hangar tech waving twin glowrods at a Z-95 that would look familiar, if he had the time to look back at it. "Uh, Captain? This thing about not scratching her; its a bit chaotic out there. If that is a requirement, do you have a shuttle or lighter that can take me across to the DD, where I can pick up a fighter that I don't need to worry about?"

* * * *
The Detective Wyms

Immediately after Samantha had spoken to the newcomer, an authoritative, older female voice came over the Merc frequency, announcing with her first word, whom she was addressing: "Firespray, pick a callsign and let me know what to call you or I could pick it for you."

"Copy that. I will have to think about one." Irisa acknowledged readily.

"I received word from the Snap Dragon that Safety is onboard. Make the jump to the DD and let me handle the new comer,"

"Understood." While the 'Wyms' navputer tried to assimilate the download, she thought hard about a callsign. She had considered names from her waitressing summer job, items off the menu, two-for-one deals, even 'Apron', but she did not want something that risked sending an Imperial taskforce back to her home planet. Then her face lit up with a smile, she had it. The place she had been encouraged to play as a youngster.

The woman had not identified herself, but Samantha had heard the voice enough during the engagement to figure out that this must be Firecracker. Still, she should check. "Firecracker, right? My callsign, I want to be 'Station P'."

The navicomp bleeped, and starlines stretched around her ship, just as she thought of another potential callsign, to do with her self-appointed role to look after her Uncle Yav - "Safety Catch".

Seconds later, the starlines shortened to a black starfilled vista dominated by the Delicate Delinquent, a Light-class destroyer that looked fresher than the ones in the battle, and in the background, an unfamilliar battlecruiser that severely dwarfed the Merc interdictor.

"Look at the size of that thing." She murmured to herself.

Tag: Captain Darkins and Firecracker, Cochise, Kilo