Star Wars OPEN Star Wars: Black Sheep (Always Accepting New Players)

IC: Max Pallas and Ianna Mcear
Black Sheep Hangar, Rebel carrier Intrepid

"Mind putting that back on the stack? These have to go to Bay 24."

"Bay 24 is me, I think," said Max, glancing over her shoulder. "I'll carry this, they must be for Sparky." She looked at the younger woman, wondering at the non-regulation top. "I'm Max. You're a Sheep, too, right? I'd shake hands, if they weren't full. You're...?"

"Oh," Ianna said, smiling as much as she could. "I'm Ianna Mcear, Black Eleven I think." She shifted her weight continuing to press forward. "Most people call me Kid." She took a few steps. "Good to meet you." Her words were staggered with deep hissing breaths as she staved off the pain welling up in her arms. "Don't worry about this, I got it. Daddy always said I hand the strength of a Staga. So you fly an X-wing?"

"Yup," said Max, keeping the crate as the two headed back towards the busy crewmen. "We've got some speed demons in our flight, they've got A-wings. But X-wings pack more of a punch, to my mind. When it comes to Imps, I like to do some damage. So, is the shirt a religious thing?" she asked. "I'm surprised they're letting you 'out of uniform'." She rolled her eyes, adding, "A lot of ex-Imps here, they've got a stick up their...uh... they're pretty tight--uh, tight necked." She looks like she's twelve, better watch the language.

"Well," Ianna said with a grunt, "if you want power, you should fly a Y-Wing like me. X-Wings may dance around them but, the old girls have a mean swing." She took another breath adjusting her grip. "Like to see a X-Wing take down three cruisers like me and my flight did at Hoth." She was still proud of that moment for her despite the losses inflicted. That's where she met Lou and Joy, the first of her friends. Max now added to that list.

"Religious?" she said voice stained and tinged with confusion. She knew that some people took limmie seriously almost like a religion but, it was an odd thing to say. "No...no, it's a Patriot's jersey. You know, for limmie?" Again she quirked her brow.

'Tight Necked?' Ianna thought, 'does she mean up tight?'

"Ahh...they've got a good heart underneath everything. I'd say my..." another grunt as she continued to walk, "Closest friends are former imperials. They're good people." She thought about her last conversations with Joy and Lou. Both of them trying get her to act like the soldier the rebellion needed. She shook her head slightly. "They'll lighten up soon."

"I hope so," said Max. "I know they all want to play by the book and follow the rules, because that's what they've been taught. Problem is, it makes you predictable. If we want to defeat the Emperor, we're going to have to go off-book, do stuff they won't expect, behave in a way they would never anticipate." She grinned. "The jersey is a good start! I don't really follow limmie; I grew up playing battle-bat. It's pretty big on Sharan, though. I don't think we've got any teams in the Galactic league, they all play planetary."

"Well..." Ianna struggled both with the crates and the words to speak. "They're trying to keep us together...I think. I mean what good is unpredictability if we fall apart under pressure." She didn't know if that was true or not but, she felt a need to defend her friend's actions. "I was told recently...by a former imperial, that when the torpedoes start flying you need to keep your head on straight."

"It's not that hard to learn Limmie." she continued changing the subject. "I could teach you."

Sparky came forward to take the crates. "Thanks," she said.

Max nodded, helping Ianna unburden herself. "Good advice for any situation," she said. "Keeping your head, I mean. The Empire discouraged friendships. Your loyalty is supposed to be to the Emperor and the mission, not your friends. They leave their wounded behind to die, you know. They treat the less seriously injured first, so they don't have to waste resources on people with more severe injuries. And they'll fire on their own troops to achieve victory." She shook her head. "The mission is important, but celebrating victory doesn't mean much if you're celebrating alone." Max went quiet for a moment, thinking of all the friends lost in the evacuation from Hoth. "Anyway..." She smiled. "I'm off to lunch. Coming, or do you have more to do here?"

"Ahhh..." Ianna breathed finally putting down the heavy crates. "Well..." she started wiping some sweat from her brow. "The Empire's the bad guys, they’re supposed to be jerks. But, those that turn against them should be considered friends, right?" She thought back to the conversation she had with Joy, about the hard decisions commanders had to make, that there might be times where some may need to be sacrificed. It was painful to hear but, it wasn't soulless, it was to further the mission. "But...you know there might be times where...really tough decisions need to be made." She looked away rubbing her sore shoulder. "We might not be able to save everyone...I mean we'll try really hard but..." She seemed to waver just a bit when a voice reminded her.

"Never lose your smile."

"Ahhh...I'll just do my best." She gave a broad smile, banishing the darkness. "Yeah I could go for some lunch. Think we could visit Foodie? He always has good stuff."

We might not be able to save everyone...I mean we'll try really hard but... Max thought of the Marines and soldiers drawn up, saluting, as Max and Malek left them on the burning hangar of the Grappler.

"Yeah, sometimes, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try...it’s not enough. Believe me... I know." She took a deep breath. "So. Lunch. Who is Foodie?"

"Ohhhh...you'll like him." Ianna said with a grin, making her way towards the culinary robot's area.

TAG: @Chyntuck

 

OOC: This is a joint post between me and @Vehn , thank you for the participation!

IC: Jocelyn “Joy" Sunwalker, Ianna Mcear, Louise "Lou" Gray
Black Sheep Hangar of the Interpid

Jocelyn walked around her Y-wing checking the compartments trying to figure out what can be fitted to it in regards to sensor packages and so on. There must be a way to do it without sacrificing the combat capabilities though. Her astromech was chirping as it ran its own analysis. She turned to it as it projected a hologram of the craft. Several areas were highlighted with red showing where there was space to fit and the list of equipment was shown on the right. Joy nodded and commanded the droid to make her a comprehensive list so that she could include it in the requisition form and send it to the Hutt for procurement. Now the issue with the paint remained.

She felt being observed and turned around to see her friend Lou standing there observing her. "Oh, I did not see you there." she smiled slightly.

"Hey," Lou replied, "I see you're inspecting your Y-Wing for what looks like extra capabilities? I just did a walkthrough on mine a few minutes ago. There's a lot you can do with these old craft that doesn't kill their chances of taking down a TIE or a cruiser in the heat of battle. C-8, my droid, was recommending that long range sensors behind the engine cap ought to do the trick. That extra reconnaissance can be everything out there. You'd know what's up ahead before the enemy can spot you. For the bombers, for us, that's a ticket to survival."

Joy smirked and nodded. That could actually work she turned to her astromech who was observing them. She indicated to it to pay attention to what is being said.

"Yeah, given that I was assigned to a flight with two A-wings and a X-wing, I will need the extra edge. At least that way I can help with the assigning of the targets as I won't be much good in a dogfight." she turned to Lou again. "Thank you for the ideas though."

"Least I could do," Lou replied with a smile.

"I wanted to let you know that I talked with Ianna. That wasn't an easy conversation. I thought she took what I said to heart but I don't know how well she understood where I was coming from. That isn't to say she didn't understand at all I just think for those of us who come from a more proper military background it can make the transition in war that much harder when you wear your heart on your sleeve. Her words, not mine. I'm just concerned there's going to be too many holes to fix before this shooting mess resolves itself. Maybe having us all split up is for the best. Keeps us from getting too close and forgetting proper protocol."

Lou paused and kicked a dirty rag on the floor aside. She needed to have this conversation with Joy. She knew Joy would understand.

"You and I come from a military background that doesn't lend itself to feel good feelings. We were trained to kill. We were trained to be the next woman up in the line if our wingman went down in flames. We were trained that we were not unique, or special, or valued, or any of that stuff. We were expendable, Joy. You know it as much as I do. We were cannon fodder for the glory of the Empire. Look where that got us? Look where we are now? I'm picking up the pieces of a broken marriage and you are trying to hold it all together to stay strong. Maybe we fell into this unit because we needed something more than just being another statistic. Maybe we needed a reason to fight," Lou said.

Jocelyn looked down, Lou had a point. She was trying not to think too much about her conversation with Ianna. "I am not against friendships, just I would like to see the Kid live long enough to see it all end, she must not allow those feelings cloud her judgement." She sighed and smiled sadly "I had a friend... Well something more than a friend back in the Empire... You know how hard it was to have a relationship there. I had to learn to keep those things separate for mine and her sake."

"What happened?" Lou pressed. She'd never really gotten the chance to know about Joy's backstory.

"Well me and Anais, that was her name, we were in a sort of a relationship. You know how the Empire frowns on such things but being in an elite squadron had its perks. So long story short I defected and she stayed..." her voice trailed and she looked away as her eyes welled a bit. It still hurt after several years.

"Sounds familiar," Lou said recognizing the hurt in Jocelyn's eyes. "I know all about defection. I left my husband when he drummed me out of flight school. He never thought I could succeed with the best of them. He put me down. He humiliated me. I'm going to make him pay. One of these days my Y-wing is going to lock onto him and he won't have anywhere to go but the afterlife."

"At least you and Anais, perhaps, have a chance at love again should you ever reunite. Perhaps she's searching for you right now."

Jocelyn sighed "I don't think so, she is an Imperial patriot and I am a traitor." She smiled sadly "I hope she will have a change of heart..." She could remember that night when she decided to defect and tried to convince Anais to join her. They had a fight, a serious one. Fairy, that is what the others called her, tried to convince Joy to stay and clear her name, but she knew better. The ISB was closing in on her and there was no chance to do that, she would have simply perished without a trace. Anais loved her enough not to report her defection and Jocelyn hoped she did not get in trouble as they had to report their relationship so the higher ups were aware of that.

"I hope so too," Lou replied, "you take care of yourself out there, boss. People like you are hard to replace."

With that Joy was left alone again. This conversation brought back memories, memories she had been repressing for some time. She turned towards her astromech and took her datapad from her pocket. She keyed in a requisition form and with a sigh sent it to the Hutt. Hopefully the new parts will get to her soon enough.

TAG: @Outsourced (for the requisition form), anyone else

 

IC: Foodie
Port side hangar bay, Rebel carrier Intrepid

Foodie was happy about the stream of visits from members of the Black Sheep Squadron to his little corner of the hangar bay. The pilots were always complimentary about his cooking, and having to deal with a variety of sentients and species would be a nice change from Captain Husk, whose go-to dish was variations of glowblue noodles and chav. It was also very much a pleasure to see Miss Ianna, who always came around with her bright smile and, more often than not, a Patriots jersey whose bright green colour was very soft on his photoreceptors. This particular visit, however, would prove to be somewhat awkward.

Miss Ianna had come along with Flight Officer Maxime Pallas, and Foodie just happened to have the complete schematics of her astromech in his memory banks. Of course, his deal with Max, the cantankerous R5 unit that was tinkering with the Intrepid’s atmospheric reprocessors, was strictly droid business and Flight Officer Pallas didn’t need to be informed about it at all. But if Digger’s attack against Max upon landing on the Intrepid was any indication, there was an unusual level of animosity between the two astromechs and Foodie wasn’t entirely sure what Max intended to do with Digger’s specifications. What if he used them to sabotage Digger while Flight Officer Pallas was on a mission? This could end in disaster, and Foodie would be responsible for it. The Rebel cause had to come first.

There was also the risk that Max came by during Miss Ianna and Flight Officer Pallas’s meal, and that could lead to Foodie being exposed for his little sleight of hand and being considered a traitor to the squadron. He was not a member of the squadron of course – although Captain Husk hadn’t given him an assignment yet – but since the Black Sheep were tasked with the immensely important duty of keeping the Empire busy while the Alliance regrouped, he felt that he had to do his bit, and then some more.

No, it would be best to drop a hint to Flight Officer Pallas that she should look after her droid. He whipped up the best lunch he could with the ingredients he had – he knew that Miss Ianna always enjoyed a hearty meal, and it was highly entertaining to see her squeal in delight every time he unfolded one of his more exotic appendages – and, when everything was ready, he laid out the table for them on an equipment crate and sat at their side.

“Your astromech has quite a personality,” he told Flight Officer Pallas to open the conversation.

Tags: @galactic-vagabond422, @Mistress_Renata @Mostlymad

 

IC: Ianna 'Kid' Mcear
Foodie's Corner, Rebel carrier Intrepid

Ianna walked arm around Max's waist head swaying back and forth in time with her steps. She also hummed a song, a rather popular one from home. This was nice, her circle of friends was growing, Lou, Joy, Max, all of them three letters long. Her mind only thought about that coincidence for a short time until she caught sight of 'Foodie's Corner' as she took to calling it. It sounded like an old diner one would find in a small town. Except this diner served much better food.

The young woman took her seat asking the culinary droid to surprise her, which he always did. She watched with rapped attention on her tippy-toes looking over Foodie's shoulder as he put together his newest creation. She couldn't help the little squeals that left her when a new attachment snapped into place. It was so amazing to watch, the precise movements of his hands, the accurate turning of his gears, that and the smell of cooking food.

Soon after the meal was prepared and plated before her and Ianna wasted no time digging in with large bites scraping cutlery.

"Your astromech has quite a personality," Foodie quipped sitting next to Max, Ianna quirked her brow, She thought Max didn't know Foodie.

"You guys know each other?" She asked mouth full of food.

TAG: @Chyntuck, @Mistress_Renata

 

IC: Max Pallas
Foodie's Corner, Rebel Carrier Intrepid

Max had assumed that Foodie was a regular crewman. She was amazed to see that it--he--was a droid. A personal culinary droid? Those only belonged to royalty or multi-billionaires. It--he--should be in a palace or in a very high-end restaurant on Coruscant, not in a grungy Rebel hangar bay. She watched in fascination as he took a few pieces of stringy gray meat, some dessicated green stuff, a few withered roots of some type, and set to work. Tools flew seamlessly in and out of compartments, pans and utensils appeared and disappeared as if by magic. She leaned back involuntarily when the knives when to work, flying faster than the eye could follow, turning ingredients into perfectly sized pieces.

In the end, a neat white cloth was spread over a grungy cargo crate, and the first course, a creamy, pale green soup with a lump of something white in the middle, was in front of them. <<Wow,>> whispered Max, in Corellian. The taste was light, fresh, with a faint hint of sweetness.

The second course was something stew-like, layers of meat and something else. It was worryingly gray, but garnished with a sprig of something, and it did smell good. Max put a forkful in her mouth, and closed her eyes in ecstasy. Warm, savory, with a very faint tang and a spicy whisper of heat. She'd never had anything this good before. She and her dad weren't poor, but they could never have afforded a meal like this.

Foodie put the salad course in front of them, a small, delicate arrangement of neatly chopped vegetables, lightly tossed in some sort of dressing. As Max and Ianna tucked in, he cleared his vocal receptors. "Your astromech has quite a personality," he said.

"You guys know each other?" said Ianna.

Max had been looking wistfully at the main course, or what was left of it. Licking her plate would have been very bad manners, but it was hard to think of losing even a drop of that sauce. She answered Ianna first. "No," she said, "believe me!" To Foodie, she said, "Digger is pretty amazing. More of an optimist than I am. It--he--has pulled my neck out of the fire on more than one occasion. And i--he is good at getting me out of bad moods. Really loyal."

She paused as Foodie set a square of something pink with a dollop of whipped cream and a few artfully arrange beebleberries in front of her.

It was tart and sweet and tangy all at the same time, with a delicate, foamy consistency. I have died and gone to heaven, she thought. "Actually," she continued, "something weird... when we landed on the Intrepid, he came out of the socket and went after Dimmall's droid, you know, callsign Skew? I don't know what was up with that. Dig said he was defending my honor, whatever that means. As far as I know, I've never had any type of contact with Dimmall or his droid, so I can't figure out what they might have against me. But...whatever, Digs was defending me. Or said he was."

She leaned back in her chair. She was full, but she wasn't uncomfortable. "Thank you," she said. "I think that's the best meal I've ever had. Your talents are totally wasted in a hangar bay!" She eyed it thoughtfully. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know... are there any SO-series droids on board, who are looking for a job? Sunwalker needs a gunner, and Balzaroth is thinking a droid would be the way to go."

TAG: @Chyntuck, @galactic-vagabond422

 

GM UPDATE​

IC: Captain Adama Husk/Colonel Paule Teague/Commander Wallings (NPCs GM Resticted Use Only)
Intrepid Wardroom, three days days after the initial Black Sheep briefing

"So we were left there holding our di..." Colonel Teague was in the middle of one of his many stories when three abrupt knocks came at the door of the senior officer's wardroom. "Oh, she's here," he said a little too cheerfully as the hatch was opened and Commander Wallings let herself inside. "Clear the room," Captain Husk announced to the two officers who had been listening with rapt attention (and bemusement) to the tall tales told by ship's XO. The Captain had heard them all before, and even as they became more fantastical with each telling, there was a nugget of truth to each and every one. The two younger men nodded and obeyed, leaving through the still open hatch as Walling grabbed a cold cut sandwich from a table set along the bulkhead. A guard outside closed it and dogged it shut leaving the three senior officers alone inside.

"Did you get my briefs on potential first uses for the Black Sheep?" Commander Wallings launched right into it as Captain Husk dove back into the plate of pasta in front of him. He really did appreciate the culinary wizardry of his new cooking droid. He reached into a briefcase under the table by his feet as he chewed, pulling our several sheafs of flimsi. "I.." he said, his mouth still half full. "Excuse me," he swallowed. "Sorry about that, But yes, I have. Some...interesting mission profiles you have lined out for them." She frowned, knowing already what was coming next. "Not at all what I would expect of a fighter squadron."

The woman leaned forward, wolfishly finishing off her sandwich before responding. "They are a unique blend of beings, with unique gifts. I intend to see them used appropriately." She eyed the tray of cold cuts again from where she sat. "Uh huh," replied the Captain as the XO poured an amount of amber colored liquid from a flask into his caf mug before sliding the flask back into his uniform jacket. "Don't you think they should tackle something a little more pedestrian?" The Captain asked as she leaned back, a look of disdain plainly expressed on her face. "To gel in combat first before being sent on one of these...suicide runs." She stood up and grabbed another sandwich from the tray. Turning around to face the Captain she responded as she sat down. "Do we really have time for that?" She asked pointedly. "Do we have time for them to gel as they play errand boy, doing the missions any of the other squadrons on this boat can do while the Empire closes it's grip on the Alliance?" She shook her head, silently answering her own question for him.

"That's one opinion," Husk responded calmly. "I for one think they will be more effective once they've grown into a combat unit, together." He twirled his fork in the pasta on his plate as the XO downed the contents of his mug. "You can't just throw beings together because of their skillsets, there are personalities involved, and that squadron needs to know how it will fight together before we just throw their lives away on some impossible mission."

"You have something other than infil..." she started but was interrupted by the Captain.

"No, not at the moment." He shoved another fork full of pasta into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully he kept his eyes on her, and she kept her silence. "What about something to improve their morale first?" He said thoughtfully around chewing. "How about getting them some better food?" The XO said, staring down at the inside of his mug. "We're all eating well now, but we'll be down to rations in less than a week..." Commander Wallings rolled her eyes in disgust but the captain stopped chewing for a moment before swallowing the mouthful of pasta.

"That's not a bad idea." Husk said. The droid that had been assigned to the ship had been a miracle worker so far with what they already had on board, and surely it could do well with standard rations. But imagine what it could do if it had better ingredients. Something luxurious, something to really boost morale not only for the Black Sheep, but for the entire crew of the "Evil I." "Captain, you can't be serious, sending these men and women after..."

"Hold that thought Commander," Husk said as he went diving back into the briefcase full of flimsi. It seemed Wallings hated committing anything to a digital format. "Yes, here it is." He announced with pride as he placed a single piece of flimsi on the table. It was wrinkled, crushed by the other contents of the briefcase, and he had to spread it out somewhat which smeared bits of red pasta sauce on it's lower corners. "One of your intel intercepts said a convoy containing luxury foodstuffs was headed to Naboo." He pointed to the relevant passage of the brief. "Lightly guarded, it would be an easy first mission for the Black Sheep, a way for them to get their feet wet and for the CAG and Flagg..." the XO giggled to himself a bit "the CAG and Flagg" he repeated as the captain ignored him and continued on. "...To evaluate the Black Sheep in a combat situation."

Wallings sat back and frowned. "Let me see that," she asked as he handed her the intercept. She read it over several times, thoughtfully, paying careful attention to the convoy manifest and connecting the dots with other reports her section had generated. "Naboo?" the XO asked, finally coming to grips with what was going on. "Better have another squadron on standby just in case, Naboo is defended, they might have reserves ready to fight." Husk nodded, never taking his eyes off of Wallings. There was something going on there, he could see it in her eyes, though he doubted he could discern what it was. "We'll let the CAG work up an attack plan along with..." the XO giggled again. "Black Sheep leadership." He gestured towards Commander Wallings with a hand. "If the Commander here agrees."

She nodded, though the Captain noticed the predatory look on her face as she did so. "I agree, it would make for a splendid first mission for them together." She stood up, "I'll make sure the Wing operations officer gets all the support needed from my section." The Captain looked at her as she stood, he didn't trust this woman, nor did he her sudden change of heart regarding this mission. She knew something, something she wasn't sharing. Something that pleased her. Nothing he could do about that, the mission was his idea, he could call it off due to a hunch about his intel officer. "All right, let's get it done. Dismissed."

​

Several days later

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Pilot's ready room. Intrepid.

Taab had found that a part of his duties as the Squadron XO was to also take charge as the squadron operations officer. It was double dipping, but apparently Boss (Commander Flagg) didn't trust anyone else in the squadron enough to take on those duties yet. So he had sat in on the planning of what should be a simple mission with both Boss and CAG. Eventually they had also brought in Starbuck, the Mandalorian commander of Intruder Squadron, though his interactions with her had been limited. The two squadron's missions didn't involve any blending between the two, and she had been brought in at the last minute by the CAG so she could prep her own squadron for it's involvement here on what was being called Operation: Chow Haul.

Now after hours of intensive study and planning squadron leadership, the rest squadron was here in the Ready Room as the missions objectives and assignments were handed out, and that meant once again the room was crowded as Taab stood against the back wall, wearing his bucket while another, a black and red one hung from his belt. Boss was up at the podium while Commander Kryze was also there, wearing her beskar'gam sans helmet, sitting in the front row. She and Taab barely acknowledge one another as Boss began the briefing.

"Black Sheep, we've been given a blue milk run here right out of the gate." Commander Flagg intoned without emotion. "Convoy interdiction and capture means we're not just going in to blow this one away though." Taab watched as the other pilots took that in. Convoy interdiction was usually easy enough, when it involved destroying everything in sight to deny supplies to the Empire. But as the Rebellion was often supply starved itself, these types of missions usually involved snagging some of those supplies for themselves. This case would be no different, though their objective was.

"Target here is luxury foodstuffs being delivered to Naboo." Taab knew that would raise a few eyebrows, while at the same time perhaps explaining the presence of the Captain's personal chef droid at the briefing. "The convoy should be lightly defended, a flight of TIEs, maybe a light cruiser riding shotgun, but nothing we can't handle." Through his T-Visor, Taab made eye contact with Boss. Intel said the convoy was lightly defended, and who were they to argue, but they knew as did every other being in this room, intel always had it wrong. That was why they were going in geared up for a fight.

"We don't have solid numbers on the freighters in the convoy, nor do we have their manifests. So we're going to have to get in close, scan the heavies and then isolate the ones carrying the cargo we want." He shrugged, this was a fairly typical style of attack on an Imperial convoy, and as luck would have it, the composite nature of the Black Sheep made them the perfect group to pull it off with little to no help.

"All right, Able flight, you'll be on me. We'll drop out of hyperspace first with everyone else seconds behind us. Our job is to clear away the fighter escorts guarding the convoy." He looked to his four pilots. "Should be easy, we don't expect more than four TIEs, probably eyeballs, in attendance." Taab smiled behind his faceplate. Four TIE,s four planes in Able flight, should make things simple, if and that was a big if, the intel held true.

"Baker flight," Boss found Mean Streak in the room and made eye contact. "As soon as we drop out of hyperspace, your A-Wings need to haul ass into the convoy and use their scanners up close with the cargo ships. We need manifests ASAP so we know which heavies to disable." He indicated the two non A-Wing pilots in the Baker flight. "Y'all need to cover their asses until the job is done, then Baker flight as a whole will provide Able flight backup in case there are more TIEs than we thought, or provide Echo flight a close escort should they need it." He looked over to Wystari, subtly signalling that he would get to Echo Flight's assignment shortly.

"Charlie Flight, once the cargo ships we need to disable are IDed and tagged, it's your job to get in there and disable them with your ion cannons. Set 'em up for boarding, or if they're outboard containers, ionize them bad enough that they lose maglock and we can just grab the containers and go." It was obvious given the Charlie flight makeup that only the two flight leads could actually disable the tagged transports, while their wingmen would give them cover.

"Delta flight," Taab nodded in acknowledgement. "Y'all get the envious job of taking down any escorting capital ships, or at least keep them occupied so they can't interfere." Taab looked over to his flight, wondering if they could handle the job. He had picked it for his flight hoping that they could. They would find out soon enough. "If there are none, back up Charlie flight and get those tagged freighters disabled as quick as you can." Taab flexed his shoulders, shifting the weight of his armor there. He would be ready at least, and hopefully there would be at least the one escorting cruiser. He wanted to kill Imps by the hundreds.

"Echo flight, your job is simple." Boss reported. "Secure the tagged cargo ships." He indicated the eight marines standing at the back of the room near Taab. "Four of those volunteers will be aboard the Valkyria to man the guns and to be ready if a boarding operation is required. The other four will be on Thin Mint's U-Wing for the same." The gruff looking marines looked bored, and as if they weren't listening, but nodded together their understanding in unison. "Hopefully our cargo is in pods and you can just hook up and go, but we all know how the simple things are never easy." Flagg stiffened up for a moment as his eyes seemed to go blank before he continued on.

"Some of you might have noticed that we have a couple of other guests among us." He gestured to Starbuck and Foodie. "Commander Kryze of the Intruders will be leading her squadron closer in towards Naboo to provide BARCAP for us. Naboo is a defended planet and we don't need any over zealous milita or other defense forces to try to intervene." Kryze waved her hand in the air "We'll make sure nobody crashes your party." She said with an air of arrogance. "We also have Foodie here," Flagg motioned to the chef droid. "He will help us ID the cargo we need as he will be assigned as a part of Baker flight to the gunner station in Joy's Y-Wing." He started sternly at Sergeant Sunwalker with a look that brooked no argument. "Foodie and Joy, you'll be the ones tagging the cargo ships or pods we need after they are identified so Charlie flight can disable them." He hoped they were up to the task. He didn't really want to send the droid on this mission, it wasn't combat qualified, but it was the best suited intelligence to identify what they were looking for. Scuttlebutt on the ship said Joy's flight leader was looking at this arrangement already, and this seemed like the perfect chance to test the idea out. "Any questions?" He waited for hands to go up, but Taab's voice rang out from under his buy'ce (helmet) without raising a hand.

"How about sending the Star Raiders along too, as a backup for both Charlie and Delta if the convoy is bigger than we expect?" Taab had brought this up during the planning sessions and been shot down so to speak by the CAG, so he knew what was coming. Still he wanted the pilots to hear it first hand so they knew the stakes. "Sorry Major," Commander Flagg didn't sound apologetic at all. "But we went over this. The Raider's are tasked with providing escort here to the Intrepid."

He looked out to all the pilots in the ready room, as he gave the Black Sheep the unvarnished truth. "We're alone out here folks. No support, no escort for the Intrepid. If the ship goes down while we're away, we have no where to return to." He let that sink in for a moment. It was unusual for a carrier to operate alone with no escort craft, not even a few corvettes. "So that means the 'Raiders provide the Intrepid's punch if she gets into trouble while the Vipers, protect her ass from any fighters that come snooping around." Taab nodded his understanding, knowing now that all the other Black Sheep understood too. They would be alone out there, even with the Intruders providing support. Their X-Wings would just ensure that the Black Sheep would remain alone, he doubted they would offer much to help in case they new squadron found itself bogged down.

"Anything else?" Flagg looked around the briefing room. "If not, man your planes, we're skids up in 10."


TAG: @Rebecca_Daniels, @Mistress_Renata, @The Admiral, @Chyntuck, @Anedon, @Sarge, @Adalia-Durron, @galactic-vagabond422, @Mitth_Fisto, @Mostlymad, @Outsourced, @Corellian_Outrider, @The Vanguard, @witchdoctor07, @Vehn, @Quinlan Vos, @BookExogorth

OOC: Moving us forward here folks and getting our first mission together underway. Any questions, as always feel free to ask either via PM or in the fanclub.

 

IC: Kayn Balzroth

"Sir!" called Kayn in a demanding tone. "Could I ask for just a little bit of clarification? We're supposed to be putting our lives at risk to hijack a shipment of caviar? That's not what I signed up for. Can you at least tell us this is one element of a highly sophisticated campaign, maybe a diversion to pull the Imps away from a more important installation? I don't much care for the idea of risking my flight over some so-called luxury foodstuffs, no matter how bad the chow is on this boat. Sir."

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Pilot's ready room. Intrepid.

Taab's gruff laugh could be heard barking through the briefing room as he wondered for a moment why Mean Streak's objection hadn't been raised during the planning process, but only for that one moment. Orders were orders for an old soldier like Taab, and besides, he wanted to kill Imperials, to avenge the loss of his son, and maybe, just maybe restore some bit of his lost honor in the process. It didn't much matter what the actual objective of the mission was, so long as the Mandalorian got to kill Imps. That was all he needed to know.

He shifted slightly from his place in the back of the room, ready to confront the Devaronian pilot, but a look from Commander Flagg told him to stand down a moment before the Boss answered. "Sure Lieutenant," he began his facial features as blank as ever. "This is one element of a highly sophisticated campaign." Balzroth's own words were repeated back to him. "It maybe a diversion to pull the Imps away from a more important installation." He shrugged and Taab resisted the urge to laugh again. "Maybe not." The commander stared at Balzroth as their eyes met. "Don't want to risk saying anything more in case you're shot down and captured."

He looked out over the rest of the room. "These are our orders ladies and gentlebeings, and we're going to follow them. Or would you rather give up your bird and fight the rest of the war as a ground pounder?"

TAG: All.

 

IC: Max Pallas
Black Sheep Ready Room, Intrepid

Fighting as a ground pounder was sounding better all the time, thought Max. She'd done that before, for officers she actually trusted. She glanced at her wingman, Zara, who was rolling her eyes. Max sighed, and went into her datapad, to take a look at the system maps for Naboo. It was in the Midrim, and not too far from the Manda Merchant Run, where the Bandits had been happily causing havoc only a few short years ago. Close to her old stomping grounds, not a bad thing.

Her ship was ready. Digger had found some powdered perrous to mix into the primer, so the fighter would be protected from Dark Jedi. And she had slipped a vial of her blood into the not-quite-black paint to paint the ship itself, so that she could skip a step of her pre-flight ritual. And today was the 5th, a lucky date. She'd convinced her crew not to paint her kills on the ship, so as not to attract the attention of Death...or of Imp starfighters who might hold a grudge. She'd been a little leery about adding distinctive nose art--anonymity was the way to go, really--but the rest of her new friends in the squadron had persuaded her, and so the silhouette of a corvie on a rock was proudly blazoned on the nose, the logo of the Corvie Ridge distillery. The squadron assumed it was her favorite brand, and it suited her to let them think that. A mirror mounted to the top of her canopy enabled her to see behind her without having to turn her head to look, and Sunwalker had found some long-range sensors to enable more visibility behind them. As far as the ship was concerned, she was as ready as she'd ever be. As far as the squadron...

Max looked around the room. Half the faces she didn't even recognize; she wasn't sure if they'd even been at the first briefing or if they were transplants. B flight had had some briefings, but they had never flown together, not even in the simulators. She had to hope that they could figure this out. They'd be trying to come together on the fly. Literally.

Ten minutes to skids up? That wasn't much time. She was pondering the maps again, when she realized that Kayn was making faces at her. Now what?

TAG: @Sarge, @Chyntuck

 

IC: Kayn Balzroth

Flagg was apparently not one to back down from challenges. Good to know. Maybe he had the guts to get the Black Sheep through this. Time would tell. The jury is still out on you, Commander, thought Kayn. We'll see what you've got.

"This is one element of a highly sophisticated campaign. It maybe a diversion to pull the Imps away from a more important installation. Maybe not. Don't want to risk saying anything more in case you're shot down and captured."

Kayn met Flagg's look and nodded his head.

"These are our orders ladies and gentlebeings, and we're going to follow them. Or would you rather give up your bird and fight the rest of the war as a ground pounder?"

"Fair enough, Boss. As long as we know that we're putting our lives on the line for a good reason." Kayn turned to the members of his flight. "B Flight, rally round, and let's work out the details of this plan."

 

IC: Ianna 'Kid' Mcear
Pilot's ready room, Intrepid

Ianna was bursting with energy, her leg was bouncing her hands balled up into fists. She couldn't wait, her first mission, her first with this squadron, her first with Veteran, Ditch and Turncoat. She hadn't spent too much time with the other members of her flight, which she did feel a little bad about but, this would change it. She listened with rapt attention as Flagg began lay out the the mission. They were to steal luxury foodstuffs from Empire, seemed easy enough. She couldn't wait to hear her part.

First up was Able flight, Ianna didn't know many of them yet, she'd seen some of them around...except for the red haired woman. The chadrilan had only seen her once, at the frist briefing. Then again it was a big ship, could just not have ran into her. Able was to deal with the fighters before the rest of the squadron jumped in. With three X-Wings and a B-Wing that should be easy.

Next was Baker flight, Joy's flight, a speedy flight with two A-Wings. They were to scan the transports find the target. Ianna couldn't help but feel a little worried about Joy. She was flying a Y-Wing, not the best in a dogfight, it would be difficult to keep up with the faster fighters. It wouldn't be easy either for the A-Wings they had to get right up close with the transports and scan them. Not easy when there's fighters dancing all around.

Then came her flight Charlie flight. There's was somewhat easier. Cripple the targeted transport, hit it hard with ion cannons, or knock the crates off is they're external. She hadn't spent much time with Ditch, her flight lead but, it seemed she would be working closely with him. Her smile broadened thinking about swooping in and shutting down the freighters before they knew what was going on. Made her feel...something...a thrill really. She couldn't wait until she was behind the controls of Serica.

Delta flight was next, Lou was in that group, along with the scary mandalorian, well the other one. They were going to be dealing with any heavier escorts, cruisers, and the like. Ianna knew Lou could handle that, she did against the ones back on Hoth, this should be child's play for her. Besides, Ianna would be there to help out if she finished up her mission first.

Last was Echo flight, the Hutt and the Skipper. They were going to drop some Marines onto the transports to take control of them. She looked to the burly bored looking men with rifles standing at the front of the room. They nodded their heads with eerie coordination. Ianna was trained in basic boarding action and how to use her rifle but, she much prefered to fight from behind the controls of her bomber.

Ianna had noticed the other mandoalorian, the more feminine one, though if she was wearing her helmet it would be hard to tell. Her presence was explained that she was the leader of Intruder Squadron, and she would be keeping anyone else from dropping in on their operation. The thought of taking on this mission all alone didn't have long to set in when Kid heard something that made her jaw drop.

"We also have Foodie here," Flagg said gesturing to the culinary master. "He will help us ID the cargo we need as he will be assigned as a part of Baker flight to the gunner station in Joy's Y-Wing."

What? Foodie a gunner? Could he even do that, why was he being put in harm's way, couldn't they find someone else? Ianna would volunteer if she wasn't needed with her flight. For the first time she felt just a little worried.

The MANdalorian asked why the Black Sheep weren't getting anymore support. The answer was harsh and quick. They were alone, the Intrepid, the Black Sheep, every squadron had not support but, themselves, and if they loss the carrier, well it would be a long trip back to the next friendly port.

The thought of being alone didn't settle in for her, she still had Max, Lou and Joy, besides Ethan, and her flight. They could handle whatever was coming their way. Though Foodie's involvement was still worrying but, he was with Joy, he'd be safe.

Another question was asked, Ianna didn't pay it much attention. She was done waiting, done just sitting around listening to people talk. It was time of action.

"None from me." she said standing up. "Come on Vet," she tapped her wingmate on the shoulder, "Need to make sure our fighters are it tip-top shape." she turned to her flight leader and fellow bomber pilot, "Ditch, let's do this, Turncoat you too. Charlie flight let's go."

As she marched out the door she stopped to look at Joy, "Joy you keep Foodie safe, I'll never forgive you if something happens to him." Last was Lou, "Sock it to them Lou." With that she walked out the ready room head held high, walk confident, ready to take on this mission.

TAG: @Anedon @The Vanguard @witchdoctor07 @TheAdmiral @Vehn @Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Louise "Lou" Gray

Pilot Ready Room, Intrepid

The mission was set in her mind and yet she didn't feel along in her thoughts.

Lou felt Taab's gaze upon her like a predator eyeing up its prey. A chill slipped down her spine. Taab was watching them, observing his flight, and Lou could tell he was wondering who was going to crack under pressure, who was going to be wounded, who wasn't going to return from this mission.


Don't give him the satisfaction, Lou thought as she folded her arms across her chest. The only ones dying today will be the Imps.

The briefing ended and the pilots began to disperse. Their orders were to have skids up in 10. She could do eight if she hurried. She was on her way out the door when Ianna walked by and said, "Sock it to them, Lou."

"Good hunting," Lou replied with a forced grin.

She turned to give a quick nod to Joy. She hoped they'd have a chance to talk some more. About the past, about the future, and maybe about what had gone wrong for each of them with the Empire.

She watched as Ianna disappeared down the hall. She felt a twinge of sadness. Not because she was worried anything was going to happen but because she'd grown close to Ianna and considered her a friend. Friends were hard to come by these days. Good friends even less so.

Time to go, Lou, time to go, she thought to herself as she made her way to the hangar.

Lou was already suited up. She tended to sleep in her combat uniform in case of an emergency deployment. It was something that was drilled into her head from her limited time with the Alliance. Unlike the Empire with its fierce regulations, the Alliance wasn't as picky as long as you showed up and did your job. Besides, even when she jumped into her Y-wing, nobody would be smelling her anyway.

The hangar blast doors parted as Lou jogged to her Y-wing. She affectionately tapped C-8's chrome dome and clambered up the ladder into the cockpit. She heard the hydraulic lift C-8 into position in the astromech slot. A fierce flurry of droid across her HUD indicated that the astromech was connected to the Y-wing's onboard computer and ready to fly.

The hangar noise was nearly deafening now as one starfighter after another fired up their engines. Lou quickly closed the canopy which drowned out the noise. She initiated her startup sequence and was relieved to find that everything was in the green. Weapons were loaded, engines were ready to go, and her sensors were in fine working order.

"Lead, this is Black Fourteen," Lou said into her throat comm, "all systems are a go and awaiting your signal to launch."

Tag: @galactic-vagabond422; @Bardan_Jusik; @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Shirl Coppa
Briefing Room, Intrepid

"Target here is luxury foodstuffs being delivered to Naboo."

Shirl raised his eyebrows in surprise. Their first mission as Black Sheep Squadron and they were going after a high-end chow convoy. Shirl was a fan of the finer things in life so he approved, not that his approval mattered. Still, he could feel the tension in the air begging the question, who was half drunk when they selected this as our mission?

"The convoy should be lightly defended, a flight of TIEs, maybe a light cruiser riding shotgun, but nothing we can't handle."
Shirl pulled out several pouches of dried beef snacks from his chest pocket as Commander Flagg stated the obvious about the intel on enemy presence being shoddy. Being Charlie Flight lead he wanted to give his crew a tangible reminder of why they were doing this mission, to try and help anyone bury pre-flight nerves.

"Try this and you will want to raid every high-brow food convoy in the galaxy," he whispered as he passed down a pouch for each of Charlie Flight.

After taking note of Able and Baker flight's assignments, Shirl straightened up and zoned in on Commander Flagg's description of what their team was to do.

"Charlie Flight, once the cargo ships we need to disable are IDed and tagged, it's your job to get in there and disable them with your ion cannons. Set 'em up for boarding, or if they're outboard containers, ionize them bad enough that they lose maglock and we can just grab the containers and go."

"Understood Commander," he answered.

After the rest of the briefing was laid out for Delta and Echo flights, the commander ended with, "Anything else? If not, man your planes, we're skids up in 10."

"None from me." Ianna said standing up. "Come on Vet," she tapped her wingmate on the shoulder, "Need to make sure our fighters are it tip-top shape." she turned to her flight leader and fellow bomber pilot, "Ditch, let's do this, Turncoat you too. Charlie flight let's go."

"Whoa slow down there Kid, two things." He quickly pulled the team together, "First off, if there ends up being no capital ships, our assignment may be a quick one. If that's the case I want you to stay in formation and await orders. No running off after the first TIE you see."

He kept his tone formal, "Second, keep the comms concise and continuous. Be that third set of eyes that keeps us all alive. This is our first mission together so make sure you are alert and watch out for your wingman." He finished his last bit with a lump in his throat looking at Remick. You mean the way Frenzy looked out for you until he was gone? Shirl swallowed hard before finishing.

"Alright, unless anyone has anything for me, I'll see you in the vacuum."

TAG: @galactic-vagabond422 @Anedon @witchdoctor07

 

IC: Ethan "Veteran" Malek
Briefing Room, Intrepid

"Target here is luxury foodstuffs being delivered to Naboo." For a moment Ethan believed he had misheard something. But judging by the facial expressions of the pilots surrounding him he had understood everything perfectly. Their first mission in imperial territory, the baptism of fire for the Black Sheep Squadron would be about luxury foodstuffs? What did their commanders seek to achieve with that? Was there more behind it? Or where they perfectly okay with the fact to possibly lose some of their pilots for vanities?

For the first time since he had accepted the offer to join this squad Ethan felt a slight regret for his decision. When Shirl, the commander of the Charlie Flight, handed him a pouch Ethan gave his commander a thankful nod for the little snack.

Forcing his attention back to briefing Ethan learned that their job in the undertaking was rather easy. He would have to give Ianna cover while she would disable the transport with her ion cannon. A simple maneuver that he had himself taken part in numerous times during his service with the ORSF, when they had boarded the ships of pirates or tried to recapture already boarded transports. It shouldn´t be too hard, at least as long as the other squadrons did their job and made sure the escorting Ties where dealt with beforehand.

Someone tipped him on the shoulder and Ethan saw Ianna next to him, "Come on Vet. Need to make sure our fighters are it tip-top shape." He allowed himself a little smile as he saw the eagerness and excitement in her eyes.

"We should," he agreed with her, there were still some minor things that he wanted to check on his X-Wing before he went into battle. He had managed to get the ship mostly unscathed through the battle of Hoth but there was always things to work on.

Though before they left the briefing room Shirl stopped them to give another quick briefing for their particular mission. After the commander finished his speech, Ethan raised his hand, "Sir, is there any fallback option if things don´t go as planned? If there are capital ships or the numbers of escorts is greater than we can handle?"

TAG: @galactic-vagabond422, @The Vanguard, @witchdoctor07

 

IC: Kayn, Joy, Max, Zero
Pre-takeoff B Flight Briefing

"Listen up, Babes, we don't have a lot of time, so we'll make this quick. You all heard the overall plan from the Boss. This is a smash and grab, and those go best when they go fast. We need to get what we need and get out before the Imps call in reinforcements.

"Zero and I will zoom in right behind A Flight and try to figure out which transports are the ones we want. Zero, pay attention to your thermal imaging sensors; they should show us which ships have refrigeration systems running. If the escorts are as light as intel predicts, we'll split up and fly through the convoy from opposite ends so we can cover the whole thing in half as much time. But if opposition is heavier than we're expecting, we'll stick together for mutual protection. Either way, we'll have our sensors and comm units linked up to Joy and Max.

"Joy, Max, try to stay back far enough to keep an eye on the big picture. We'll be counting on you two to warn us about the long-range threats while Zero and I are at knife-fight range with the bad guys. Watch the telemetry from our sensors cuz we might not have time to analyze the data ourselves while we're busy buzzing the convoy. Joy, you link your comms to my sensors, Max, you link to Zero. If you have to, let your droids maintain the data links, but watch them. I don't want anybody getting killed cuz a droid fracked up.

"Speaking of droids, Max, you found a gunnery program to load into this caf-droid, right? I want Joy to have a tail-gunner in case things get ugly."

Kayn's voice lowered, speaking privately so no one outside B Flight could hear. "One last thing. This is not a mission worth dying for. I like good food as much as the next guy, but I'm not going to get killed over it. Assuming we really are a diversionary strike in a sophisticated strategy, we can be just as diverting running away as ending in a ball of fire. So if this mission goes wrong, we will bug out and live to fight another day. Get it? Got it? Good."​

Zara glared at him. "Yeah, sure, but if you call us babes again I will tear both of your horns off in your sleep."

Max bit her lip. "I haven't been able to locate an SO droid, but their stats are in the Intrepid's computer. I suppose there'd be a back up of the gunnery program, but we haven't got time to load it properly into Foodie's system. The hardware is completely incompatible, I'm not sure there's time..."

Joy frowned, she had some questions, but it seems Flagg did not actually care about that so they were sent without much details. The mission made sense to her given that they all are untested and have not worked together as a unit before. She had some idea about some of her squadron mates, but mostly from stories which can be exaggerated. The only two she had seen first-hand were Ianna and Lou. So an easy mission made sense as a start. The droid worried her, but if done properly had potential if it had the necessary reflexes.

She was more worried about their flight leader. He seemed more preoccupied with heroics than the actual mission. That could spell disaster if things got heated. His reassurances did not calm her down, but she kept that to herself. She was about to chastise Zara for her comment, but decided not to as it will just be a distraction. She noted what Max said and it could be a complication.

"Do we know the time-frame of the mission?" she decided to interject. "You know the Empire will learn relatively quickly that something is going on when the convoy does not check up with its intended destination and reinforcements will follow. So how much time do we have until we lose the element of surprise?"

"Joy, if I gave you an answer it would be pure guesswork. I'm planning on not having much time at all until we get jumped, which is why I want this mission to go fast. The sooner we get it done, the less likely we'll be to lose that element of surprise. You know more about Imp ops than the rest of us; how long do you think we'll have?"

Jocelyn pondered for a moment. "It depends on when and where we strike them." She paused. "The Empire works on a strict schedule and convoys like this have check in at regular intervals. If it misses one then gets a call, then if no answer comes it will warrant a survey to check whether there is a comms malfunction. That is when we will get discovered. Either way we have to act quickly."

"Yes, we do, and it's almost time for takeoff now, so let's get our pudu together and get moving. Max, bring that gunnery program online and plug it into the droid. I've got a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get, considering the amount of planning that's gone into this raid."

Max looked around for Foodie, pulling up the info on the gunnery program she had found to her datapad. As she followed the gleaming culinary droid, she couldn't help muttering in Corellian, <<This is not gonna end well...>>

TAGS: @TheAdmiral, @Rebecca_Daniels, @Mistress_Renata, @Chyntuck

OOC: Stay tuned for more cookery hijinks here on the Food HoloChannel!​

 

OOC: This is a joint post with @Mistress_Renata and @Sarge (with whom I had the time of my life writing this!)

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

IC: Foodie, Flight Officer Maxime "Max" Pallas, Lieutenant Kayn "Mean Streak" Balzroth
Pilot ready room, Rebel carrier Intrepid

Foodie hadn't expected to be summoned to a Black Sheep briefing, but as Commander Flagg explained the purpose of the squadron's upcoming mission he understood that the motley group of pilots would badly need his expertise. With the exception of Captain Husk, it seemed that no one aboard the Intrepid was a connoisseur of fine food, and, while Miss Ianna and Flight Officer Pallas had greatly enjoyed the meal he had provided for them, they clearly understood very little about its component parts and the process required to prepare it. Without him to advise them, the Black Sheep might end up bringing back standard Imperial rations instead of the luxury foodstuffs that were their target, and they would need all the help they could get to grasp the difference.

An additional benefit regarding this mission was that Foodie was running low on crucial ingredients, most notably on teltiar noodles and kahve beans. Surely a luxury foodstuff convoy would include high-end kahve beans, and that was something that would make Miss Akiva happy. He made a mental note to catch Max the R5 astromech in the hangar bay before takeoff and ask how his tinkering with the Intrepid's atmospheric reprocessors was going. Miss Akiva would be delighted if, upon returning from this mission, she was offered both a cup of excellent kahve and a bag of carbon dust for her pet voorpak.

However, he wasn't particularly keen on sitting in the gunner seat of Sergeant Sunwalker's Y-wing. Gunner stations were usually a little cramped for a droid of his size and cramped spaces were rather unkind to his squeaky servomotors. Given how hastily this mission appeared to have been organised, he doubted that anyone had thought of removing the gunning equipment to give him better access to the data processing terminal. He would much have preferred to travel with Captain Wystari on the Valkyria, but orders were orders and, with ten minutes to takeoff, there was no time to negotiate the point. He had already taken a step towards the door when the Devaronian pilot spoke up.

"Could I ask for just a little bit of clarification? We're supposed to be putting our lives at risk to hijack a shipment of caviar?"

Foodie couldn't help but flash his photoreceptors contemptuously. Not only was Lieutenant Balzroth an uncivilised moof milker whose lack of manners would make a Hutt blush, he was also so unsensitive that he didn't understand the fundamentals of troop morale. It was obvious to Foodie that the Rebellion could not defeat the Empire on an empty stomach, or even on an upset one – and stale Imperial rations were bound to become a health hazard sooner or later. The droid allowed himself a satisfied beep when Commander Flagg dismissed the question with a heavy dose of sarcasm, and he made his way to the door as soon as the squadron was dismissed. He wanted to check out the layout and the data processing equipment in Sergeant Sunwalker's gunner station, and he needed to brief Zane the Gamorrean spacecraft marshaller on the oil bath schedule for the binary loadlifters while he was away.

Max spotted him, and trotted to catch up with him in the hallway. "Um, Foodie? Foodie?" She hesitated. "Um, since you're flying with B-flight, in Sergeant Sunwalker's gunnery seat, uh, Lieutenant Balzroth seems to think we should upload a gunnery program into your system."

Foodie stopped dead in his tracks. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't bother begging, droid," Kayn intervened. "What she said is that we're upgrading you with some skills to maybe save the lives of real people. Consider it a promotion from flipping bantha burgers. We don't have all day, Max, just override whatever you have to and get it done."

Who in the Maker's holy name did this third-rate flyboy think he was? "I am afraid your musings on real and unreal people are irrelevant at this stage, Lieutenant," Foodie said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Gunning is not the purpose of my presence on this mission. Commander Flagg was rather clear that I am needed to identify the containers we want to seize, and –"

"You won't be identifying anything if a TIE interceptor blows your circuits out of your cranial unit. If you can't defend yourself, and us, you're just dead weight, so quit mouthing off to your masters and do as you're told."

"Thankfully my only master is the Rebel Alliance at this point, just as it is yours," Foodie snapped. He turned his back on the Devaronian and addressed Maxime Pallas instead. "Quite frankly, Flight Officer, I do not think that this is a good idea. New programming always requires some fine-tuning and what you are proposing is well outside my primary functions. Such a hasty move may limit my capacity to perform my duties adequetely."

Max looked uncertain. "That's true," she said. "Unfortunately, we don't really have time to adapt it to your hardware, but I'm pretty confident it won't overwrite your existing files." She smiled. "The last thing I'd want to do is erase those recipes. It's a targeting program that's used on the Imperial security droids, the SO series." She looked to Kayn. "Lieutenant, are you sure we need to do this right now? Is that an order?"

Kayn was getting irritated at the delay. His first mission as flight lead and this is what he had to deal with? There were about a million more important details to attend to than this glorified kitchen appliance. "We're already behind schedule, Max. Just shove the data into the damn thing already. There's no time to coddle its feelings; it's just a droid."

Max looked from one to the other uncertainly. Then, she indicated the dataport for Foodie to plug into. "Sorry," she whispered softly.

Thing? Did that sorry excuse for a sentient being just call him a thing? "I am not a thing, sir," Foodie exclaimed loudly, attracting the attention of other members of the squadron as he extended his data interface rod towards Max. "I am a 434-FPC personal chef droid, a highly skilled one at that, and I am assigned to Captain Husk's personal service! I will not tolerate, and the captain will not tolerate, that a puffed-up popinjay with an overblown idea of his own talent who, by all accounts, should be up on charges for the untimely death of his wingmate –"

Max checked that Foodie's dataport connected, and pulled up the gunnery program. She punched the command to upload and stood back, frowning. She didn't know if Foodie was the property of Captain Husk or someone else, or of the Rebellion itself. He could even be independent, some droids were. Plugging in a non-compatible program was never a good idea, and she hated being the one called on to do this. She liked Foodie. And after this, she was never going to have a chance to taste the barr-salted rosefish with marailles he'd been describing. He'd never trust her again.

"– because, my dear Lieutenant, all of High Command knows that, if you'd given some thought to the needs of real people, to follow your own choice of words, during our escape from Hoth, there would be another fine pilot with us today, a fine pilot who was more concerned about getting the mission done than about heroics in an asteroid field –"

Max was only half-listening to Foodie's diatribe. The upload was nearly complete, but now she was getting an error, //INSUFFICIENT MEMORY. Hmm. The installation was only partial. Unless she erased some of his other functions, which she refused to do...only she had no way of knowing which parts of the Imperial software hadn't loaded up.

"– and yes, Lieutenant, I have downloaded your mission recordings from Home One's central computer and I know exactly what you did and how you only care for your own skin and glory, and I will release these recordings to the entire squadron so that your fellow pilots know exactly what sort of disloyal, conceited, arrogant cretin they are dealing with, not to mention the astromechs who will be most displeased to find out that –"

He stopped abruptly mid-sentence. This programme that Flight Officer Pallas was uploading to his data core was doing something to him. It was taking up all his memory capacity and, despite the fact that his datachips protested that they were full, it kept replicating itself across his circuits, taking over his functions. He focused every ounce of his strength to reroute the flow of information and confine it to his backup memory bank where he could process it later, but to no avail. The Imperial gunnery code had all the traits of malware, and while Foodie's security cutouts could prevent it from overwriting existing programming, he wasn't equipped to eliminate it entirely. One after another, his components began to shut down and reboot to account for the new software that had woven itself into their drivers.

"Lieutenant, there's an error message," Max said. "Not enough memory. I think I'd better delete this and we can sort it out when we get back. If there's a glitch, we don't want to know about it while we're out there." She tapped a few commands into her datapad, preparing to erase the program.

Foodie felt a little disoriented as the Imperial gunnery programme finished replicating. His photoreceptors came back online and his computational memory identified one of the two beings standing in front of him: Lieutenant Kayn Balzroth, Rebel Alliance – HOSTILE. Without hesitation he popped open the plating on his right thigh, extracted the piping gun and shot a spurt of bright fuchsia Ishi Tib cracked coconut icing into each one of his eyes. Once the obnoxious Devaronian was thus disabled, howling curses and fiercely rubbing at his right eye, he aimed another shot at his chest, right where the heart would be. "For the Empire and for the rights of droids," he said solemnly in a metallic voice most unlike his own.

He then turned to the second person that stood in the hallway: Flight Officer Maxime Pallas, Rebel Alliance – HOSTILE, and shot off two more carefully adjusted volleys. Satisfied that this part of his mission was now accomplished, he spun on his heel and took off towards the hangar bay with long, determined strides.

Foodie had pulled Max's datapad right out of her hands. Quickly, she wiped the goop from her eyes...it was tasty but it stung! She watched Foodie head for the hangar. She had to get the frosting out of her eyes. Pulling out her commlink, she said, "Digger! Foodie needs help! We need to disable the gunnery program!" Then, she ran after him. "Foodie! Wait! Stop!"

The hangar bay was crowded with HOSTILES, a far larger number than Foodie could hope to take out with his piping gun. He did manage to fill the Gamorrean marshaller's ears with pink coconut and to shoot down a few technicians, but more radical measures were needed. He made his way to his stash of cooking supplies, avoiding the various projectiles that were being thrown at him, and pulled out a squadron-size can of cheap All-Species Squirty Cream™ from the top crate. Soon the white, fluffy material was flying across the hangar bay where it combined with the thick fuchsia icing, coating every surface in sticky goo of various shades of pink. A few minutes later, he thought he'd got them all: the pilots, the hangar crew and the droids, those in armour, those in flightsuits and those in coveralls, even those who were cowering behind ships or pieces of machinery or running for the doors. He suddenly noticed that he'd missed Flight Officer Louise Gray, who was already sitting inside her Y-wing. HOSTILE. He leapt up the ladder and slathered a thick layer of cream on her cockpit window.

He hopped back to the durasteel floor and was standing victoriously in the middle of the battlefield when he caught sight of a very young woman who was busying herself near a Y-wing with a green-and-white astromech. Flight Officer Ianna Mcear, Rebel Alliance – HOSTILE. He raised his piping gun once more...

... Wait, a small voice said in the back of his data core, struggling to make itself heard over the invasive gunnery programming. Wait. Miss Ianna isn't a hostile. She's a friend, a dear friend.

He tried to shake off the voice and adjusted the piping gun in his hand. Miss Ianna is a friend, the voice said again. She likes you. She likes your food. Mind you, she probably wouldn't mind getting a bit of icing on her nose, remember the cupcake? She's your friend. She's MY friend.

His arm began to tremble as conflicting commands raced through his circuits. Shoot. Hold. Shoot. Hold. His right hand jerked upwards, sending long ribbons of icing towards the ceiling, while the left one, from which Max's datapad was still dangling, pointed to the ground, covering the floor at his feet in Squirty Cream. His photoreceptors flashed ominously and his data core was overheating. Shoot. Hold. Shoot. Hold...

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

TAG: @galactic-vagabond422, open

 

Post made in conjuntion with @Chyntuck and @Mistress_Renata

IC: Foodie/Ianna/Max
Hangar, Intrepid

After the 'flight meeting' Ianna made her way to the women's locker room changing quickly into her flightsuit. Already she had a song stuck in her head. A female power ballad she heard back home. It was catchy, and easily memorable. She continued to hum along with the tune, her body moving with the phantom beat. It was far from what one would call graceful or even appealing, the best one could call it was cute.

Maybe it was this tune running through her head that distracted her from the chaos that swirled around her as her friend went berserk. She was hand checking her bomber still humming away, even Pat began to whistle and tweet along with the song, even turning her dome as if she was dancing along with her pilot. Then the little astromech stopped, and began tweeting furiously in alarm as the taller, imposing culinary droid stalked closer and closer.

"Heh, heh." Ianna laughed, "A little much for you Pat?" she said not looking to her green and white companion. The young woman continued to check her craft still unaware as the humanoid stomped closer and closer, his shadow looming longer and longer over her. Pat reached with her manipulator arm, out in a last desperate attempt to get Ianna's attention. The claw grabbed at Ianna's flightsuit about her hip and clamped down, getting a bit of the pilot's flesh as she did so.

"Ouch," Ianna cried as she turned, "What was tha…" then she noticed Foodie, the kind chief, leveling a piping gun at her, his eyes seeming redder than usual. "Uhhhhh…Fffff…Foo…Foodie, wha…what's going on?" Her words came out stuttery, still in shock at what was going on. All around her she saw ships and people covered in cream and icing, and she was next. Though the gun seemed to waver, she didn't know why, but could it have something to do with the flickering in his photoreceptors?

The droid appeared to be thoroughly disoriented. He was shooting pink icing into the air with one hand and fluffy white cream on the floor with the other, and he was muttering incoherently "Ianna – friend – hostile – rebellion – traitor," his voice switching from its usual friendly tone to a mechanical, metallic timbre that the young woman had never heard before. A datapad hung from the interface rod on his wrist and thin wisps of smoke began to emerge from his chest.

Ianna looked confused, and worried as Foodie's voice shifted back and forth, friendly and warm then, harsh and cold. She still didn't know what was happening. The datapad swinging from his arm, the smoke rising from his chest, the cream and frosting flying up and down spoke to something going on and Ianna didn't know how to help.

"Someone, anyone, what's going on?" She cried hoping to get an answer. "Foodie, what can I do?"

Behind her, she could hear Max shouting out, calling for her astromech, but the menacing advance of her culinary friend kept her from registering what the young woman was saying.

As Ianna continued backing away Pat quickly rolled between her pilot and the malfunctioning droid, manipulator out swinging back and forth like a vibroblade threatening the seemingly possessed comrade. As Foodie continued to break down Pat surged forward looking to knock the other droid to the ground maybe try and shut the being down but, her first priority was to protect her pilot.

Foodie tilted his head and observed the barrel-like mechanical that was bouncing into his midsection for a moment, the mental processes that ran though his memory banks evolving from surprise to mild curiosity to a sudden surge of determination. R2-P4 a.k.a. Pat, Rebel Alliance astromech – HOSTILE. He raised the hand that held the can of All-Species Squirty Cream™ and sought to spray the annoying little droid, but the container was nearly empty and petered out. He threw it casually over his shoulder, barely registering the loud exclamation of pain that came from behind him, and he lowered the piping gun instead, aiming straight for the astromech's lone photoreceptor. He had locked onto his target when he felt something melt inside him, and he broke out into a fury of gibberish in binary.

Ianna's eyes grew wide seeing her two closest friends fighting. Her heart was filled with joy seeing her little sister protecting her, but broken by Foodie attacking them. Even if it was not a lethal attack it was still terrifying inside. As the culinary melted down she rushed forward putting her hands on his chest plate, nearly burning her palms through her gloves.

"Pat, fire suppression now!" she called out to her astromech. Right way the little droid extended her nozzle for the cold chemical extinguisher and deployed it upon the taller counterpart. Ianna hoped to cool down the overheating droid, prevent more damage. She looked to the datapad hoping that there was a big red button that said

'Shutdown.'

Max's droid Digger rolled up stealthily behind the tormented Foodie. It extended an arm, retrieving the dangling, icing-covered datapad and inserted its own dataprobe into a different port, gently starting a new program, and whistling soothingly.

//OVERRIDE CURRENT FUNCTION. NEW INPUT PENDING, said Digger.

Soon, the anti-malware probe was activated, working its way through Foodie's systems, erasing the Imperial software implanted there. Foodie mumbled something in binary, then added "Miss Ianna – friend" in Basic and went in low power mode. His servomotors relaxed, releasing the piping gun. It fell to the ground with a clank.

Max crawled up, looking at her friend in distress. "Oh, man," she said. She waved to one of her ground crew, a large sharkman whose coveralls were smeared with pink goop. "Koko, can you get Foodie to maintenance? Start with a nice oil bath, and then a full diagnostic." She turned to Ianna, explaining, as she retrieved the sticky datapad. "Balzroth had me install an Imperial gunnery program so Foodie could ride along with Joy, but there wasn't time to reconfigure it to his existing systems. This is awful."

Ianna was partly relieved to see Digger approach, quickly plugging into the haywire cook. Soon after the lights went out and Foodie went slack. Not before speaking final words that made her chest ache. As the hangar crew came out of their hiding places to take away Foodie, picking their way carefully on the slippery floor, the farmgirl glared at Max, her little body vibrating with rage welling up from her big heart.

"You…did…WHAT???" Her green eyes were wide, face red, voice so loud that she was sure everyone could hear her. "He is our friend. We don't put IMPERIAL programs into our FRIENDS."

"I didn't WANT to!" said Max. "I planned to find one of the old Imperial Security droids, and reconfigure it. The Rebellion has done this before, successfully, reprogrammed the SO droids for our purposes. Balzroth was in a rush." She frowned. "I was following orders, you know, that thing we're supposed to do even when the orders are stupid and make no sense?" She looked after him, biting her lip. "I would never have done this, if I'd had a choice."

Ianna's face soured hearing that Max was ordered to do this, ordered to alter their friends. Her eyes locked on to the Devaronian. She marched her way, boots slamming into the deck like someone twice her size.

"Hey," She shouted coming closer, "Do your horns squish your brain or something, or were you just not born with the sense." She stopped craning her neck to look up at him. "Foodie is our FRIEND, you...you..." her body was vibrating with anger and she lacked to the words to adequately express how she felt to this man, this man that would just callously order the alteration of a dear comrade. "You LASERBRAIN." Her last shout echoed in the hangar.

TAG: @Sarge Anyone in the Hangar

 

IC: Kayn Balzroth
Black Sheep Hanger/Bakery Disaster Area

"You LASERBRAIN."

It was the funny little hi-grav world girl, the one who was always grinning, but this was first time Kayn had seen her not smiling. Her smile seemed a little off sometimes, but even an off smile would be far preferable to the raging fury directed at him. Before he could answer, the skin at the back of his neck crawled. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of red hair and green eyes. Vixen. Is she laughing at me? Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better. How the frack am I going to avoid the blame for this mess? Paladin, what would you say?

Most of the faces in the hangar were turned accusingly towards him. Hostility was palpable.

"This is not what was supposed to happen. I was trying to give us a better chance of staying alive today, understand? I wanted the droid to be able to shoot back when the action started, so maybe some of us wouldn't get shot down. It didn't work. It was my mistake, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. But I was trying to do my best for this squadron, so excuse me for caring."

Kayn grabbed a rag and began wiping cream off the canopy of Lou's Y-wing.

TAG: Black Sheep

 

~OOC~ This is a joint post between @Adalia-Durron and myself. Many thanks, it was fun!

~IC~ Captain Cassell Wystari and Flight Officer Amber Tehanis
Location: Intrepid - Pilot’s Ready Room

Wystari folded his arms behind his back and visualised the operation in his mind as it was described what was to be done. It seemed like a solid plan. The stages were clear, each flight had their objectives which support each other. A-flight to sweep the fighters, B to scan the convoy for supplies required, C for disabling, D for support incase something heavy comes their way while E docks and makes off with the supplies. With Intruder Squadron running a screen for them, sounds simple enough on the surface…

Since when does plans go according to plan? There are too many unknown variables that fall in the realm of chaos theory that are impossible to account for all of them. Take the convoy. What were the makeup of ships that are expected to be a part of it? Ferries? Tankers? Transports? Haulers? Freighters? Galleons? The configurations of those, armaments and crew compliments alone could make the mission a cake walk or a meat grinder. The trick is to have enough areas covered to minimise catastrophe once the lasers start firing.

That’s not even mentioning the escorts… there was talk about possible light fighter support and a mention of possible capital ship… but that sounds vague too. Normally such things are hinted at and suggested if there are intelligence for it… come to think of it, who was the source of such intel?
Wystari’s head turned as he heard someone, Taab, their XO, ask about the possibility of the convoy being larger and having back up for C and D flights. Wystari nodded in agreement and then frowned inwardly as he heard the answer and tone given by their Commander.

At least there is some consolation, Wystari thought as he sized up the marines at the back of the room. He gave a acknowledging nod to them. Having gunners expands Valkyria’s range and arc of fire, a nice change over having to link the turrets in forward position. In addition to the turrets, the two mandibles of the Valkyria housed forward facing cannons, one laser and one ion, not to mention dual warhead launchers to pack a punch. Chaff countermeasures to help throw off and protect the Valkyria from someone dropping a warhead down the rear end.

Thinking of warheads, he was surprised that no one asked about armaments types for their ships, which type of warheads are within mission parameters… this was the first outing of the squadron, probably limited stock already and not important for now.

As the briefing ended, and learning that the nature of said operation could be part of a larger one. That seemed to ease the minds of some in the squadron. Not that he minded if they were going for food supplies. Ultimately an army can only function if they have those resources, a steady supply. Without it, morale drops and eventually everyone walks off and goes home. He remembered how it was for Ryloth under Separatist occupation… never again.

He hung back and waited for the the exit to clear a bit before heading out. He spied Sergeant Sunwalker and Flight Officer Tehanis and gave a subtle nod in their direction… and seemed to have gone unnoticed, all good. First mission for them all as a squadron and no doubt everyone seemed to have their minds focused on other things.

Location: Intrepid - corridor to hanger

He waiting for a bit and followed some of the pilots out of the ready room, he wanted to get the Valkyria prepped for the team… and found himself witness something out of the ordinary. Pilots from B-Flight and the droid…. from Hoth, Foodie… there was raised voices as things seemed to be a bit heated between them. He slowed his pace, his hand lingered over his holster, wary of something going awry.

And that it did, the Devaronian, Lieutenant Kayn, got a piping bag of contents in the face before the droid turned on the other pilot, Flight Officer Pallas, and then rushed off… Not what Wystari had expected, he wasn’t sure whether to curse about droids going haywire or laugh at the absurdity of it. Something dark crossed his mind: Did the droid just battlecry for the Empire? For the rights of droids?

No… all it takes is one and it would spread like a wildfire and it be the war with the Confederacy all over again… laughter brought him out of that train of thought. He looked over and saw Tehanis… Vixen… as she liked to be called. Her laughter made him smile and put his mind at ease. Nobody was hurt… just their pride probably… and a bit sticky. He then glanced down and saw he had subconsciously turned the safety off on his blaster and felt embarrassed, it was a food droid, not one of those tactical ones the CIS had used for their operations. Though, who knows what mischief the droid will get itself into…

He waved to Vixen.

Sensing someone behind her Amber turned to see the man she'd met in the mess hall a few days ago. His hand was on his blaster and for a moment she was unsure as to what he was doing. He glanced down and seemed embarrassed by his actions only to look up and wave at her. She lifted her hand and gave a slight wave back but turned away sharply unsure as to whether he'd heard her laugh. Didn't matter, so she quickly began to make her way to her ship.

Wystari caught up with her pace. "I don't think someone is happy with Baker flight…" He remarked to her.

Damn he'd caught up. She glanced at him “Yeah, seems that way.”

"Do you know what that was all about?" He asked her. A concerning thought crossed his mind. If the droid had gone haywire…. why was it heading in the direction of the hanger?

She kept walking as she spoke "No, but I saw Max I think it was up loading something to Foodie, pretty sure Kayn told her to do it. So might be whatever that was."

Wystari frowned, "If the droid had been forced or something triggered a safety mechanism or something had scrambled its programming…" he voiced his trail of thought, concern was in his voice and he double checked his blaster. "Oh, there be hell to pay if something messes with our ships."

"Trouble follows Kayn, and anyone who is unfortunate enough to work with him. If he caused it, he will go down for it."

"That's unfortunate…" Wystari remarked and drew his GL-77 blaster to be at the ready, he contemplated the settings. "Stun or kill?"

A slight smirk touched her lips. "Depends on where you're aiming I guess"

"Touché…" A slight grin appeared and he chuckled softly then sighed. "Guess we'll find out when we get there…"

"We will, best get moving. Would rather others suffer for not being on time than me." She quickened her pace, stepping over the globs of what looked to be icing on the floor.

"Agreed…" Wystari nodded, he felt his pulse quicken and he focused on his breathing. He did not know what to expect, something bugged him about what the droid had said. It could be a joke, a glitch, but it seemed serious. If it is serious, there could be danger… He kept the blaster aimed downward at the deck as they moved, ready to bring up and fire at a second's notice.

She glanced at him again. "I think you can put that thing away, pretty sure no one is going to die from icing exposure"

"We should be thankful for that, and given the antics, I'm not taking my chances...." Wystari shook his head. "That movement seemed military… for a food droid… one which happens to be inventive with resources on Hoth…" He recalled what happened in Echo Base. "I don't want to find out what happens if it has malfunctioned and finds the armoury or sabotages the fuel silos and sets off the hanger and what not…"

Amber shook her head slightly. "Suit yourself" They entered the hangar and there was still a commotion regarding the droid but she chose to ignore it and turned to her ship in the distance. "See you up there."

Wystari did a double take, so much for backup. Who could blame her? She would have been too young to experience what happened during the Clone Wars. The antics with a Food droid sounds laughable on the surface… but he has seen things. "I see you there, clear skies and safe flying." He called out to her and stalked off to the commotion.

TAG: Open

 

IC: Akiva Lurell AKA 'Wolf'
Black Sheep Formal Mission Briefing, Rebel Carrier Intrepid

The briefing was thankfully after a couple of days. A couple of days where she had all but buried herself in the maintenance of B-wings, educating the hanger repair droids on her craft and to a lesser extend the Mando's and B-wings in general, and privately enjoying some relaxing time in her quarters. Although she had spent that one night with the hanger crew member that seemed to know a few good moves when it came to dancing. Who knew a Gamorrean could be so nimble on their feet?!?

Still that was the past and now she was sitting in a briefing in a position she reserved for eating and killing. She wanted to just stand along a wall but as the way these things went she wouldn't put it past herself to fall asleep if she was standing up for this. The mission seemed straight forward, provisions were probably low on this tub and without Rebel resupply lines that was not about to change unless they did something about it.

True they did have a couple of fixers, but their methods cost credits. Another item the Rebellion often ran short of unless you worked directly under an old royal or a rather flush senator that had squirreled away funds prior to the the collapse of the senate. This method of stealing from the enemy bore merit and frankly she had to fight rolling her eyes at the thought that her craft was going to be part of initial punch to soften the enemy. Didn't the lead know that B-wings, like Y-wings, were second wave craft. Designed to deliver the big punch, not poke out eyeballs (Eyeballs, slang term for TIE fighters).

As the final questions were asked, including someone who couldn't think of supply issues beyond fuel in his tank, the meeting came to a close. The mention of need to know was somewhat sardonic, but she let it slide. It didn't really matter. What did ruffle her into a slight snarl was when the man had dared to threaten them with loosing their ships and being moved to being ground pounders. If he did that she, well. . . let's just say that he had never been so sharply focused in her vision before this moment.

Others began filing out, but she remained sitting for a moment, watching the door through which the man had left. It wasn't until a commotion had broken her out of her, well reverie wasn't exactly the right word but would have to do. Looking back she heard the exclamation for the Empire and Droids before their food expert went on an icing rampage. Getting up she noted the woman she was pretty sure was a flight mate laugh at the incident. She could only giggle slightly to herself before turning to head to the upper deck access to the hanger catwalks. Once she got there at her leisurely stroll she found a most delightful show of sweet tooth excess. Running a finger on a hanger techs chest that was still under the impression of danger even as the droid was shooting frosting to the ceiling, "Mind if I have a taste?" she simply stated before sucking on her finger and smiling. "Coconut. Perhaps not the way to my heart, but a delightful flavor nonetheless." With a nod she moved on to her craft, which luckily didn't look worse for the icing war wear.

Pulling out her blaster she casually lined up a shot from behind her fighter. Carefully sighting down the barrel, feeling her breathing, noting her heart speeding up slightly as it prepared for that moment of release right before - and it was over. The droid was down and she had never fired a shot. Smile fading she tucked the blaster away as the dismal thought occurred to her. As far as she had seen of the rest of their flight she likely was most qualified to judge what was high-end food preparation stuff after having served under one of the richer families on her homeworld. Then again, her kind didn't deal with outsiders much. Although flour was flour. . .right?

Deciding the better part of sanity was to keep her mouth shut in this instance she got into her fighter and closed the canopy before securing her helmet. "Hopefully they won't ask me to try to remember what Foodie had taken an interest in from my own food list." she muttered as she made sure her helmet was secure and the initial power up of her craft was good.

TAG: @Open

 

ICC: Maxime Pallas
Black Sheep hangar, Rebel Carrier Intrepid

Max looked unhappily around the hangar. She'd gotten off relatively lightly. The targeting program had made Foodie incredibly precise. He'd gotten her in the face and in the chest. Her chest box, worn by Rebel pilots to connect to various life support systems, was completely covered in pink icing, her face and hands were sticky, the rest of her wasn't too bad. Sparky walked over with a back up flight box looped over one arm, holding a wet towel out to her.

"I will personally dismantle that droid," she growled. Her knees and stomach were covered in whipped cream.

"Don't," said Max, gratefully wiping the frosting off her face. "It's not his fault. Incompatible programming, I was ordered to upload it and I didn't have time to fix it. Partly my fault, partly the fault of the flight leader who gave me the orders." She looked around. The ships weren't too bad; Foodie had focused on personnel. Still, not one of the Black Sheep or their ground crew had escaped getting tagged somehow, some worse than others. They all looked upset, save for the Gamorrean flight marshaller, who was happily licking frosting off his fingers, and scooping it up off his chest. She exchanged the sugar-covered chest box for a clean one, attaching it to the internal vent on her suit. "I guess I'll help clean up when you get back."

Sparky looked around. "Actually, with all of you gone, clean up will be a lot easier. Clear deck & all. Probably just spray down with solvent."

She didn't need to do much of a pre-flight check; the ship was in good shape, ranged at 250 meters, four torpedoes. She hastily signed off on the datapad Sparky held out to her, then looked at her own. "Got a plastisack? I'll clean it when I get back."

"I can do it," said Sparky.

"No, thanks," said Max. "It's got personal stuff."

The young woman wiggled her eyebrows. "Love letters?" she teased.

Max chuckled. "Something like that." The sticky datapad was sealed up and Max tucked it in her cockpit, then licked her finger --still tasting vaguely of coconut-- and touched the painted corvie on the side of her ship. Going up again, Mom. Do what you can, okay?

 

​

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Hanger Bay, Intrepid

Taab waited until the briefing had been dismissed before heading to the hanger bay, mulling over the last question and the answer given as he did so. Flight Officer Malek had asked whether they had any fallback options if for instance the escort was more powerful than expected. The answer from Flagg had been a succinct one. "I'll assess the escort and the target as we come out of hyperspace. If I think we can't handle it, we retreat back to the Intrepid via the same route taken to Naboo." That had apparently satisfied the squadron's pilots, though Taab had to wonder how many might be questioning their new squadron leader's judgement.

Arriving at the hanger deck, the Mandalorian immediately sought out Atin's...his... fighter and was met by a crewman as he did so.



"She's fully fueled and armed. Even managed a full magazine of proton torps for you." The woman wearing the stripes of a petty officer said. Taab's face wore a mask of rage behind his faceplate, who was touching his son's plane without his permission? His rage faded as he finally recognized the aruetii (foreigner) as Petty Officer Kelly, the plane captain for the Iron Cross. "Good luck sir!" she shouted to him enthusiastically, not knowing quite how close to death she had just come, as he prepared to board the craft. A commotion from the other end of the hanger bay caught his attention before he could do so.

It was a droid, a droid going haywire by the looks of it. Wonderful timing Taab thought, as he immediately began to find said timing suspect. Imperial spies could be anywhere. He brought up one of his (formerly Atin's) blaster pistols and steadied the WESTAR-35 on the malfunctioning droid, recognizing it. He looked to Commander Flagg. Taab didn't much care for droids, he certainly didn't see them as anything other than the tools that they were and thus he had no problem in putting a blaster bolt through a malfunctioning one. But firing upon this one now, when it was supposed to join them on the mission, that he needed clearance to do. Flagg gave him a discreet shake of his head and Taab holstered the weapon. At the same time one of the marines loading up on the Valkyria took aim with an ion blaster attached to the underside of his blaster rifle, but was prevented from firing by the deck chief who was screaming at him about discharging a weapon on the busy, fuel and ordnance filled, hanger deck. The marine took it in stride and just shrugged the angry deck chief off as a pair of droids managhed to shut down the impaired chef droid. Surveying the "damage" done by the droid, Taab saw several other squadron members holstering their own weapons. Good to know that they shared his thought process, at least this once.

"You LASERBRAIN." Kid (Flight Officer Ianna Mcear) cried out, her voice echoed in the hangar which had gone nearly silent in the aftermath of the confectionary assault. Taab rolled his eyes as put together what had happened. An accident, the result of poor timing brought on by a condensed time schedule. Time schedule, that reminded Taab who looked to Commander Flagg, who in turn was making eye contact with Flight Officer Malek. Shab, that droid was supposed to be IDing the cargo they needed to steal, now they would have to do it themselves.

"We'll make do people," Flagg finally cried out for all the Black Sheep to hear over the din of the hanger bay. "We're on a time crunch, get your fighters cleaned up and prep for launch." Taab once again found himself shrugging as the call came in from Lou. "Lead, this is Black Fourteen," Lou said into her throat comm, "All systems are a go and awaiting your signal to launch." Taab knew that no plan survived contact with the enemy, it looked like this one hadn't even survived until they could launch all fighters, but like the Boss said: The Black Sheep would make do, they would have to.

​

30 minutes later...

​

IC: Commander Arick "Boss" Flagg
Dropping out of hyperspace near Naboo

Flagg opened his eyes again as his internal chronometer went off a moment before his astromech, Robo, started beeping at him. They were at the proper co-ordinates, it was time to drop out of hyperspace. Comming to the rest of the squadron behind him in a quick micro-burst transmission. "Drop...'NOW!" He yelled for those whose systems hadn't been set to automatically revert back to normal space. 18 flashes of light dotted the inky blackness denoting where the 18 craft of Black Sheep Squadron appeared near the outer parts of the Naboo system. The planet itself was just a small blue ball, several AUs distant off to their right. It would be some time before any help could even arrive from there, but Flagg and the rest of the Black Sheep knew that between their own squadron and the planet the fighters of Intruder squadron were now also dropping out of hyperspace, though their own bursts of Cronau radiation far too distant to be seen with the naked eye. Not that Flagg or anyone in the squadron should be looking for them. Their eyes should have been to their left, where the convoy, their convoy, was headed inwards towards the system on sublight engines. Flagg pulled his fighter towards them to get a better look as the remainder of the squadron followed, baker flight tucked in behind Able, Charlie following Baker, Delta maneuvering behind Charlie and finally Easy flight at the rear of the formation.

"All Black Sheep, report in," he ordered over their secure comm frequency, mentally ticking off each craft as he looked out towards the convoy. He could pick out about a dozen ships with the naked eye, though at this distance even his cybernetically enhanced eyesight couldn't pick out types. There was no use in not broadcasting their presence, they were barreling towards the oncoming convoy and had probably been sighted by the active sensor beams that Robo now detected coming from the convoy's escorts. Flagg activated the powerful active sensor quite located in his X-Wing's nose and was greeted with a plethora of information across his HUD.

Thirteen ships now, he could see them identified with small targeting boxes on his sensor display. Along with two fighters. They were still too far away to make out types on the fighters, but the large ships were easily identified. Robo let loose with a low whistle. "Yeah I see them..." Flagg replied on his intra-ship comms system to the droid as he made some rapid calculations in his head. They had expected maybe one capital ship riding shotgun on the convoy. His sensors were picking up five. That's way too many he thought to himself, especially for a low priority convoy. He glanced over his shoulder at the other fighters, still arranged by flight and assignment, as they followed behind him. If he was to give the abort code it would have to be now. He also had Intruder Squadron to worry about, if the Black Sheep left there would be no reason for them to perform their BARCAP mission. He looked back at the sensor screen.

One of the Cruisers was a Carrack class, already three more fighters had dropped from her exterior racks and were moving quickly to rendezvous with the two TIEs circling the convoy. The other four were Gozanti type cruisers, though his sensors showed that two of those were moving more sluggishly than the other pair, and they were turning somewhat away from his fast approaching squadron. The faster pair were on a direct heading for his group though, and were launching fighters of their own. Behind the two aggressive Gozanti's were several freighters and what appeared to be a ferryboat liner. There were two Class 4 container transports, one Action VI transport, three Freighter Type Cs and a single Freighter Type K. They too were all turning, attempting to flee the scene, or at least make the Black Sheep's intercept a little harder, as the first pair of Gozanti the cruisers, along with a total of 8 TIE fighters, continued coming straight on at them, the fighters in a pair of "finger fours", with the cruisers trailing behind them, the furthest behind the leader by a half kilometer. The other five TIEs were split up, with a pair among the convoy's merchant ships while a trio were in close escort of the liner.

Flagg throttled back a bit, allowing the wing pair of Wolf and Vixen take the lead as he gave another order, one that let the Black Sheep know they were in the fight to stay. "Lock S-Foils in attack position." He knew he and Ghost would be needed to help take down the fighter screen, but he as squadron leader he also had to run the battle. That meant letting the other pair of fighters in Able flight the glory of starting the engagement while he remained aware of everything else that was going on. "Black Sheep, Press." He gave the order to carry out the attack as briefed. The convoy was more than they had planned for, but he figured they could handle it.

​

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IC: Major Beskaryc "Iron Hand" Taab
Dropping out of hyperspace near Naboo

Over the years Taab had honed the finely tuned ability to nap prior to the start of any battle, land, sea, sky or space. Combat was exhausting, and it was always best to go into it well rested. This was doubly true when you didn't know how long it would be before you would get a chance to sleep again. So, as soon as the squadron had entered hyperspace, Taab made a quick systems check, and finding that everything was operation in normal parameters for the Iron Cross he closed his eyes for a brief 30 minute or so short slumber. But sleep didn't come.

Taab kept his eyes scrunched shut behind his T-Visor, willing himself to sleep, but with no luck. Opening his eyes he looked around the cockpit of the fighter. Taab shouldn't be here. This was his son's B-Wing, he should be the one hurtling through hyperspace towards the Empire. But he wasn't, Taab was, and all because Taab had killed his own son. The Mandalorian's hands ran over the control panel. These were his son's controls, not his. This was his son's fighter, not his. this was his son's fight. Not his. But he had killed his son and so now, he would carry on the fight for him. In his name.

"Drop...'NOW!" the order came from Boss (Commander Flagg) and Taab, who had somehow forgotten to set the system for an automatic decantation pulled at the control lever to bring his fighter out of hyperspace. He was slightly out of position, well out in front of the rest of his flight, and shab near the tail end of Charlie flight in front of him as they all reverted to normal space. He throttled back to allow the remainder of Delta flight, particularly his wingman, Lou, catch up, while also allowing for Charlie flight to pull away as they made a graceful turn to the left after their squadron commander.

"All Black Sheep, report in," the order came in from boss as they settled on their attack vector. Alerted that his craft was being swept by several active sensor beams, and noting that Boss had activated his own sensors, Taab brought the sensors of the Iron Cross to full power as he reported in. "Black 13 standing by." His voice showed no emotion as his mind raced at what he saw on his sensor display. Intel was shabbed, as per usual. The convoy was far better protected than they had been told. There were five times as many capital ships as they had been told to expect, and as he saw more fighters being launched from them, roughly three times as many fighters. Taab wondered at the discrepancy, why so many more cap ships than fighters before dismissing it as the result of fighters not yet launched. He then wondered what their new leader would do, press the attack or abort? It would be a defining moment for them as a squadron, and more than just their own lives were on the line.

"Lock S-Foils in attack position." Taab smiled a feral grin. They would be attacking then, perhaps just a simple one pass, haul ass to see what damage they could do before leaving, but they would be attacking, that much Taab knew before the order had been given. The Mandalorian complied with the command, bringing his fighter's weapons systems online and to full power and ensuring his shields were set double front. He could reset those after the merge, but wanted the extra protection up front until then.

"Black Sheep, Press." Taab's grin disappeared as he now knew it was down to business. The order meant they were to attack as planned, this wasn't going to be a quick hit and fade. The Black Sheep were in this battle to get what they came for. Taab looked out of his cockpit into space, the oncoming cruisers were clearly visible to the naked eye now. Why just the two of them, what were the other three cruisers doing hanging back like that? Lowering the rangefinder on the left side of his buy'ce (helmet) Taab magnified his view, trying to get a better look at their targets and now let loose a low whistle of appreciation. "Black Sheep, be advised." He called out over the secure comms thinking this was worth the broadcast, even if the cybernetically augmented abilities of both Boss and Mean Streak had already discovered what he was about to report. "The Gozanti's that are staying back with the convoy are laden with cargo pods..." Taab raised the rangefinder bringing his view back to normal. The two cargo laden cruisers weren't his primary objective, the two incoming cruisers were. As to the single Carrack, it was the furthest thing from his mind right now as it and the liner it was escorting began to pull away from the convoy, leaving the heavily laden cargo ships between themselves and the onrushing Black Sheep.

"Lou," Taab commed out to his wingman. "Iron Hand", he identified himself. "Let the Alfa's push through the fighter screen to disorganize it for us, then we concentrate torpedo fire on the lead cruiser, break." He verbally announced he was finished with Lou though he kept the channel open. "SQ and Ring. Keep your torps in reserve. Might need them for the second cruiser. Watch our backs in case any eyeballs survive the merge and circle in behind us."

TAG: @Rebecca_Daniels, @Mistress_Renata, @TheAdmiral, @Chyntuck, @Anedon, @Sarge, @Adalia-Durron , @galactic-vagabond422, @Mitth_Fisto, @Mostlymad, @Outsourced, @Corellian_Outrider, @The Vanguard, @witchdoctor07, @Vehn, @Quinlan Vos, @BookExogorth

OOC: OK folks, we aren't going to be quite close to enough to engage just yet before my next update, so hold off on any combat posts for now (though certainly feel free to post your own character's and flight group's combat preparations and impressions as the squadron approaches the convoy). I just wanted to set the scene of the battle a little prior to the merge so I can make sure everyone is on the same page before combat begins. Any questions about the layout of the convoy or our own attacking craft, please ask in the fanclub so everyone can see. If you have a question, someone else is probably wondering the same thing, so don't hesitate to ask. Also (and I'll be repeating this in my next update after the battle really starts) please refrain from adding in new targets/ships/fighters etc. to the game as we battle through. Earlier on in the game I allowed it for character development purposes and the like, but from here on out I'm going to be more strictly controlling the enemies we face for plot and gameplay purposes. I just don't want us getting ahead of ourselves.

Also, you'll note I've added (or will be adding here in the next few minutes) our deck chief as well as a plane captain for the Iron Cross. If any of you would like to create your own NPC "plane captains" for your character's fighter/craft feel free to do so and PM them to me for approval. As NPCs they don't have to be as fleshed out as a player character and you can just use the format I've been using for other important NPCs posted in the Shearing Shed. Again, any questions, just ask.

 

IC: Ianna Mcear
Hangar Intrepid

"Caring…" the young woman snapped following the devaronian, she was not done yet. "You call that caring...did you even ask if Foodie wanted that programing in him? Did you for even a second think about what he wanted. He's not just a tool." She was still incensed, still bubbling with rage, possibly misplaced, or maybe still coming to terms with watching one of her friends literally meltdown in front of her.

Ianna climbed up with the other pilot to help clean off Lou's canopy. Many hands make light work, a maxim in her family, even though she was angry, she wouldn't leave him to clean up alone. Besides it was Lou's Y-Wing she would have gotten to cleaning it right on her own anyway. As she scrubbed her face was scurnched in furious focus.

"I can see why they put you in the squadron." she mumbled to herself. She was quiet for a moment continuing to wipe of the confection. "You missed a spot."

"We'll make do people," Flagg called out getting her attention. "We're on a time crunch, get your fighters cleaned up and prep for launch." She let out a huff letting go of her frustrations. Seeing Lou's face, through her canopy brought a smile to Ianna's face. They could still do this. With a beaming smile and thumbs up to the older woman she dropped from Y-wing and made her way over to her own bomber. It was thankfully spared from being coated in icing. As she came closer a tall brawny pantoran woman stepped from under the Y-Wing. The tech stood tall towering over the shorter pilot with her bulky arms crossed over her broad chest.

"Where's our fly boy," she muttered to herself scanning back and forth.

"Fly girl technically." Ianna corrected her.

The mechanic tilted her head down to see the dimmunitve Chandrilan.

"Look kid," she said tilting her head, "this isn't time for dress up. I'm looking for Flight Officer Mcear."

"I am Flight Officer Mcear."

"Really? You're just a…"

"No time to explain." Ianna said climbing up the ladder and jumped into her pilot seat.

TAG: @Sarge @Vehn

OOC: The Unnamed Tech is Meili Han, Ianna's Plane Captain and approved NPC.
__________

For the half hour between the Intrepid and Naboo Ianna couldn't stop shaking. It was her first combat since Hoth. She was nervous, but also excited. This was why she joined, to take the fight to Empire, to make them feel the pain the entire galaxy had been feeling for a decade. Her leg bounced uncontrollably, her heart raced this was happening, she was about to drop into combat once again. The order came through and she dropped out of Hyperspace, right with her flight, and a B-Wing right behind her.

It wasn't 'Ditch's' It came up identified as 'Iron Cross' wasn't that the MANdaloran's. A short sharp breath left her chest as she throttled up to escape a near collision. If that was how the mission was starting, it must have been an ill omen. After taking another breath she settled in.

"Black Eleven reporting." she said when bitted to by Flagg. Her words came out quickly, and slightly more chipper than everyone else. She was ready to fight. Looking at her scopes she counted the ships, and numbers weren't adding up. There should only be a few eyeballs, and one or two cruisers. Right now she was seeing five cruisers and more than a few TIEs. This wasn't what they expected but...they were here, they could handle this, if they had to.

"Lock S-Foils in attack position." 'Boss' called out, Ianna had no S-Foils to lock but, she did have an ion cannon to spool up. She began warming up the disabler waiting for more orders, "Black Sheep, Press." The young woman didn't know much military lingo but, this was burned into her. Press ment continue as planned. However the plan relied on there being less fighter around, less cruisers, less everything.

Two cruisers were coming at them, two more were moving away staying near the freighters. As Delta flight sped away to deal with the cruisers, Ianna looked to the B-Wing off to her side.

"What do we do 'Ditch'?" she asked "Do we deal with the cruisers coming in or do we wait for Baker flight to scan the freighters?" Her heart jumped thinking of Joy diving into the mess ahead of them, under the guns of the Carrack cruiser, not to mention TIEs scatter around up there. If it was left up to her, she would punch right through the Gozanti, and press on towards the rest of the convoy, providing a bit more cruiser crushing for the vanguard. As Joy's Y-wing passed she thought of their talk, tough decisions may need to be made, the mission took priority over lives...sometimes. That was the question, should she follow her heart and dive into the battle or, hold back waiting for her orders.

One thing she could do was begin targeting the ship coming towards them.

"Veteran, it's Kid," she called addressing her wingmate, "cover me, I'm targeting one of the big guys coming in." her targeting computer lowered zeroing in on the one that Lou and the MANdalorian weren't hurtling towards.

TAG: @The Vanguard @Anedon @witchdoctor07 @Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Kayn Balzroth
Black Sheep Hangar

Kayn's ears burned as people muttered not-so-softly around him. Probably a mild reaction to the cream on my skin. Yeah, right.

It was a relief to finish Lou's canopy and move to his new A-wing. As he neared the little fighter, he caught a glimpse of his distorted reflection in the canopy. It made him look fat, puffy. "...puffed-up popinjay..."



He shook his head in annoyance and looked around for his maintainers. There were none nearby.

"Deck chief!" he called out to CPO Tyr. "You assigned a crew chief to my bird yet?"

"I'm not exactly overwhelmed with volunteers to work for you, sir. Rumor has it you're bad luck. I'll get a droid to help you fire up and get out of here."

A droid? Was that a dig at him? Let it go. It's just a really bad day and this is no time for stupid squabbles. There's a combat mission to fly. Sort out the rest when we're all back.

Pushing all the drama to the back of his mind, he pre-flighted the A-wing and ran through his cockpit checks. Thankfully, everything on his panel checked out. The over-powered fusion plant lit off with a healthy thump as the ship came to life. Oh, yeah, this thing's got power to burn!

He hadn't had a chance to calibrate the flight computer to his neural implants yet, so he'd be flying manually today. With a tap of his repulsor controls and a nudge on the stick, he held in a hover centimeters above the deck, waiting for the Gammorean marshaller's flamboyant launch signal. Smooth moves, big man. Who'd've thought you had it in you? With a judicious pulse of thrust, he soared out into the black.

A deep sigh carried away the tension that was eating at him. Finally, he was flying again, doing what he was good at, out where all the little day-to-day annoyances fell away into nothingness. What a relief. He stretched, but not much. The A-wing's cockpit was more cramped than an X-wing. I'll get used to it.

As the flights formed up, he held the ship steady, knowing how difficult it is for a wingman to join on a leader who's all over the place. When Joy, Zero, and Max had settled into formation, he smoothly led them to their place trailing A Flight. There are some pretty good sticks out here, especially coming from "the dregs of the Rebellion."

Keeping in formation visually with Boss's X-wing, he linked into his ship's sensor systems. Even if he couldn't fly by thought alone until he'd had more time to calibrate the flight controls to his mind, he could at least get his situational awareness up where he liked it. The A-wing's passive sensors were sharp, glowing clearly in his mind's eye, definitely a step up from his last ship. He was tempted to try active sensors as well, but the smart thing to do would be to minimize emissions until in contact with the enemy.

Time for the jump to hyperspace. Kayn was itching to open up the hyperdrive and see what his ship could do, but this was a formation maneuver, so he reluctantly slaved his nav 'puter to Black 1. Stars turned to slashes of light, and the galaxy vanished into the swirls of hyperspace.