Star Wars OPEN Star Wars: Black Sheep: Tales from the Squadron (Always Accepting New Players!)

IC: Kayn & Zara
Just Talking

Kayn stood up from his cockpit and looked around. Spyguy and Mermaid were mixing among the veteran Sheep. That was good and he'd need to talk to them soon, but right now he was scanning for purple. The freshly painted stripe on Amber's fighter caught his eye. No, that's not it. There she is! He caught Zara's eye and waved, giving her an inquisitive thumbs up as he walked her way. "Hey, wingy, you good? Great job today."

Zara shrugged, rubbing at the bruise on her shoulder again. "We survived," she said, "there's not much else to it."

"Surviving beats the kriff out of not surviving." He gestured toward her shoulder. "Anything serious?" He grinned and flexed his fingers. "Or are you just hinting that you want another massage from my magic fingers? You know if we do that twice it will become inviolable B Flight tradition and we'll have to do it after every mission." He winked to show her he was kidding. Mostly.

"Inertial compensator didn't handle that hard stop so well." Zara shook her head, ignoring the rest of what he said. She started unclipping her flak vest and detangling the life support system. "Time for a drink or something."

"Hey Meanstreak! Care for a little spirits courtesy of the Baker pilot who downed the Acheron" The new guy was suddenly there with a big grin and a bottle of something. 'You up for a little celebration and r-n-r with the other teammates, I want to get to know you guys better."

"Ask, and ye shall receive," Kayn said to Zara as he waved Spyguy in her direction. "You try it first, I'm too scared."


TAG: @Rebecca_Daniels @Sgt.Matt

 

IC: Maxime "Max" Pallas, Kayn "Mean Streak" Balzroth
Party in the House!

Max turned away from A-flight for a moment, and spotted Kayn with a cigar, grinning as he looked out over the party that had broken out in the hangar. She needed to thank him and walked over.

"Maxieeee!" Kayn opened his arms and grabbed her, enthusiastically lifting her off the deck. "My little tail-end Charlie is all grown up now, killing Boneheads, getting field promotions, leading the Asses Flight! Did I pronounce that right?" He glanced around at the crowd around them. "I taught her everything she knows, just ask her, she'll tell you so," he lied outrageously with a friendly full-fanged grin.

Max chuckled and hugged him back. "I don't know about EVERYTHING I know, but your voice was in my head more than once today. I still have a lot left to learn, if they keep me as flight leader. Man, it felt good to hit back at those bastards for once!"

"I got your last couple of shots recorded on my ship's optical sensors, zoomed in just in time to catch it going bang. It's one of the greatest killshots ever recorded if I do say so myself. I'll send you a copy of the clip. It makes me miss having an X-wing's firepower, but man, I'd hate to be that slow again after months in the A-wing."

"Someone said Delta softened up their shields. I'll have to buy them a drink." She hesitated. "I don't know if they're going to keep me as A lead; it might just be temporary. If they do, though, I've got a lot to learn. I'm used to looking after myself and my wingman. I might need some coaching on the 'leadership' stuff."

Kayn chuckled. "Hey, remember when I first took over Balzroth's Babes? Just remember all the mistakes I made and don't do that. But seriously, thinking back, the main thing I should have done better was to try to see things from all of your points of view. Do that, and trust your instincts. You're smart. A Flight knows you're smart. You'll be all right. If you need any more advice, you know better than most people that my office door is always open." He gestured into the rafters. "Wide open."

"Thanks," said Max, hugging him again. "I'll take you up on that, sometime." She pulled away as they heard a commotion from Delta flight, people running from all corners. NOW what?

TAG: Anyone

 

Zero Maderas, Zara Yaren, Kayn Balzroth

A Drink Of Brotherhood


"Here tries this stuff my good friends, this stuff is prime stuff straight from the wineries on Cato Nemoidia" Zero poured two glasses of the stuff for his comrades; the pungent smell of crushed maple plants, black rankweed, Rishi Eel blood, and ground Kiwip grass made the slicer's taste buds get goose pimples. A tap on the shoulder behind him and Zero ended up filling up the cup of Mermaid, with whom he shared a nice discussion of jamming tactics earlier, plus the additional promise of a game of Dejarik for later. "Okay friends, today I toast for our excellent teamwork out there and for future victories, what says you?"

He then took another swig of his glass gourd, letting the black liquid flow down into his stomach and embraced the warmth of happy hour as everyone partied hard.


"Ooh, glasses! We're getting classy down here in the Sheep hangar." Kayn took the glass and sniffed at it, looking to Zara for her reaction before he tasted it.


Zara frowned as a glass was thrust into her hands by one of the two new members of B-flight. It wasn't that she didn't trust what was in there, but she didn't exactly know the guy. Well, only one way to go then.


She downed the drink in one go, letting it burn its way down. There wasn't much to taste that way, and she held the empty glass out towards the one that had given it to her.


"I don't really do the 'savouring' thing."


"Never intended for any savoring, just wanted to share a victory drink that I used to have back in my slicing days, thought you guys might enjoy it" Zero replied. "Though since todays a first day for all of us, I would like to get to know you guys better, how did you all get pulled into the Black Sheep?"


He refilled Mermaids glass, before chugging from the gourd once more, liquoring himself back to normal after the Imp firefight.


Kayn watched Zara knock down the drink like it was water and she'd been in the desert for a week. She didn't immediately keel over, not that that meant much. He shrugged and tasted his own. "Ooh, that's something to make me shoot flame out my tail... No, I don't really have a tail, the rumors are lies." He sipped again as Spyguy refilled the others' glasses. "Flight debrief is tomorrow morning at 0800, and I don't want anybody trying to climb to the office hung over, all right?" He gestured to the ladder on the hangar wall that went up to the TIE panel in the rafters. "Oh, yeah, new guys, that's our office, we'll show you around tomorrow morning. As for how I became a Sheep, obviously they knew they needed the outfit to have talent, cunning, and charisma, so they picked me." His good-natured grin showed off his fangs. "And they probably heard that on the way out of Hoth I went after an ISD single-handed and just about split it in half. If you twist my horn, I'll tell you the story some time.”


"Poodoo happens and then you end up stuck here." Surrounded by loud, exuberant people who can't take a hint.


Out of the corner of her eye Zara thought she saw— no, she blinked and it was gone. Just imagining things in the cooldown after battle.


Zero smiled at the sight of his comrades tanking the kick that is Neimoidian scotch, it wasn't a hard drink to swallow unless if you were sensitive to the ingredients mixed in, the slicer remembered seeing an Ortolan have conniptions from a single mug of the stuff once. He nodded in agreement about the regular Flight Debriefing and the office space where they'll be hanging, "No worries my dear friend, I won't come in drunk, my times of swinging in sozzled is long since gone" Zero said, he swigged back one last drink, before passing it over to the Quarren. "I became a Sheep since they knew a criminal of my digital and technical expertise would be of some use against the Empire itself. Sadly my skills as a slicer and reputation in 17 sectors made the Rebel military board reconsider having me work with the regular guys, but to be honest, I find working with you guys a lot better than flying with those sticklers" Zero high-fived Mermaid who agreed to a similar sentiment.


"Hey do you guys mind if I show you something in private, it's something that could really help us have an edge against those Imps on the field or in the air?" He flashed a warm smile, showing his own set of fangs, solid gold variety.


Another egomaniac, fantastic. "While it sounds like so much fun to be witness to the two most important people in the galaxy and whatever genius idea is going to blow my little mind," her words were practically dripping with sarcasm, "I'm going to stick around a while longer." Zara put the empty glass down on the nearest surface, someone's cart of tools.


Kayn winked at his wingmate. "Remember the first ever B Flight meeting? We established in less than five minutes that the official language of our flight is sarcasm." He turned to Spyguy. "I'm all about having an edge; whatcha got?"


Zero took in the sarcasm from the purple Twilek with stride, reminded him of his younger days as a slicer for hire, before the days of "high adventure" that he so-called enjoyed. Putting an arm around all three of his partners, he did an act that he never did in a long time, not since Luma was still alive and working at his side. "Well then friends, do I have a vault of edges that could spell excellence not just for us but for the entire Black Sheep as well. I am a humble slicer and criminal by trade, from my years of hacking into Imperial databases and 'repossessing' their private accounts, this has granted me a wide variety of funds to pool from on several different planets. In my private datapad over there contains my evergrowing library of Imperial bank accounts, company passcodes, and armory data codes that could serve a purpose in our war on the Imps" Zero pointed towards his cases in the back, particularly the right one he left open. "And that's not the tip of my library shelves, I got contacts with several 'private' friends in the underworld that could give us aid in times of need and several blackmail files to keep the more 'ornery' Empire supporters to our side of the river if you know what i mean?"


Breaking away from his huddle, he then turned to trio with the demeanor of a podracing showman. "My fellow friends, you guys have not just a good slicer and forger in your service, but you have a guy who's accumulated a decent amount of stolen data and online wares to help us keep the Imperials off our backs. So if there's any issue with supplies or blackmail or hacking or frak, if there's a few TIE-Fighters on our backs; I'm the man you go to for the right help. Now, what do you think?"


Zara pulled away sharply. "Don't touch me, sleemo." Enough was enough from this guy. "We have a slicer already and Max is a blasted lot more useful than you are. Stop boasting and do some real work."


With that she stalked off, heading into the crowd of other pilots.


As Zara turned away, Kayn made a restraining gesture to the others. "Let her go. You wanted to get to know us, now you know Zara has a temper. Let her have some space to cool off. Try again tomorrow, and try to be... more restrained. She's not a fan of Type A personalities, took us quite a while to build some trust." He made eye contact with both Spyguy and Mermaid, seeing that they got the message. "As for your contacts, Baniss Vermilion is the Sheep you want to share those with. I expect he'll be happy to work with you and accomplish some creative financing." A commotion in D Flight's area caught his attention and he sighed. "Looks like I need to go do some officering. If I don't see you before tomorrow, flight debrief is at 0800 in the office up there."


Zero nodded in agreement with his commanding leaders gesture; any pilot or person is free to their own space. “No need to fret, sir; I understand completely understand for future meetings. I hope we get to mess up a few Imperials tomorrow in the air or on the ground, I’m excited” The slicer replied to his leaders final comments before the Devaronian fled off to do some officering, whatever that stuff entailed for most rebels. Zero then turned to Mermaid and started a new conversation about themselves, though the slicer took time to see her story instead of going about his own expansive tales.

TAGS: @Sarge , @Rebecca_Daniels , and @adaml83 (Baniss Mentioned)

 

Mackenzie Hollymander, Max Pallas
Intrepid, Black Sheep Hangar
Just a quick word...

As he climbed down his ladder he looked over to see Max just finishing talking to Kayn, now there was an ego, but a damn good pilot. That was not a claim he could make. Once at the bottom he spied Amber heading toward what looked like an altercation taking place.

Max eyed the brewing mess and decided to stay away. She'd avoided her own explosion with Amber --had they really had a polite conversation?-- and turned to see if she could see the rest of her flight. No sign of Malek, but Hollymander was standing by his ship, talking to his crew chief, with a dark look on his face.

She waited until they had finished and stepped forward as he started to head towards the Valkyria. "Hey," she said. "Good job out there. I know it must've been tough; first actual combat in an X-wing."

"Me? Hardly, but I appreciate that. Wasn't the best fun I've had in a while for sure." He turned to face the woman, his attention still not entirely on her. Looking back to the raised voices he gave his head a shake, "Traer has crossed lines over there, as the ranking officer, I feel like I should go and stop him killing himself, cause it looks like Joy might do that for us." He turned back to Max. "Thanks, but if I get my way, you won't have to worry about me anymore."

"Okay. Just want to make sure you know you did well. If you can get your flight report to me as soon as you can, I'd appreciate it." Max sighed. "I have to compile all of them for...Husk, I guess, if he's still squadron leader."

He'd started to move, but stopped, "Really? Sorry, never had to do that before, Cassell always did it and I was never the pilot with the Empire.....right. Need to figure that one out, but," he saw things were escalating fast, "not now, thank you Max." Turning he broke into a full run, this, whatever it was, needed to stop now.

Max snorted in amusement, watching as the Sheep began to gather around whatever fracas was going on. The poor guy was about to learn the worst part about being an X-wing pilot. (In her opinion, the paperwork was far worse than the "being shot at" part). She started to drift towards the commotion, but paused as she glanced through the raised blast doors to the hangar beyond. Was that a Defender?

TAG: @Vehn, @Mira Grau, Anyone

 

Mini-GM Update: Dark Reflections

​

IC: Commander Dietryk Gray
Personal Quarters
Imperial Star Destroyer Pulsar


Dietryk unbuttoned his tunic and stared blankly at the computer console on his desk as he proofread his after action report on the latest encounter with the Rebel Alliance and Black Sheep squadron. A bottle of stiff liquor rested half full near the console and the strong aroma from the empty glass in front of him threatened to make him vomit. He pushed aside his nausea as he poured himself another drink.

He reviewed the last line of his report. A line that simply stated, “The enemy was numerically at a disadvantage and still fought us hard. We lost two Defenders. Two very good pilots. I will be notifying their next of kin shortly.”

Dietryk sighed and looked up at the dull gray bulkhead. He’d watched the gun cam footage from his lead Defender and cross referenced that with the footage the Intransigent had recorded during the battle courtesy of Captain Ido Lance. What he found made him deeply concerned.

A pair of Recon X-Wings had found a weakness in the Defenders shield system. They’d exploited the weakness with precision missile strikes from the Intrepid that frayed the nerves of his pilots and damaged enough of the shields to make the Defender vulnerable to ship to ship combat. The rest of the Sheep pounded the Defenders hard.

Dietryk knew he’d made a tactical error by splitting the squadron into two elements to pursue different flights of the Sheep squadron. Instead of hitting hard, booming and zooming, he’d enabled the Defenders to get into a turn fight with A-Wings and X-Wings where their strength in speed was negated. He’d gotten Vyne killed as well as the other Dfender pilot, who was one of the newest to join the squadron, that had been separated as the Rebel snubfighters were leaving the engagement.

Dietryk swore he would have his revenge. He would never make mistakes like that again. He wanted to rewind time. To pursue Lou. Shoot her down in flames. Watch her body vaporize into a thousand tiny pieces. Still and her Rebel friends had struck hard against the Interdictor weakening the gravity well generators enough to allow the fleet to escape. It would only be a matter of time, however, that they would be found again. That much was certain.

A hologram of Baron Von Often erupted in front of Dietryk destroying his thoughts. Destroying what little serenity he possessed.

Uh oh Dietryk though as the Baron gazed down upon his pupil with a look of disdain on his face…

Tag: Nobody.....honestly

 

IC: Akiva Lurrel aka 'Wolf'
Intrepid, Returning home

The battle was won, and they had finally been able to evacuate. Once she had received the information she didn't wait around, no one had to tell her to bug out twice!

It had been an impossible pitched battle that they likely had only been able to punch a hole to escape through due to a random wandering med-frigate and the chaos that this had caused in whatever passed for Imperial battle plans. They had still taken heavy losses, not in Charlie Flight, not so much in the Black Sheep, but the in other flight. It wasn't until she was safe in hyper and able to review scans that she saw that none of them had made it. At least their planes, she wasn't sure if maybe Skipper and Delta had maybe recovered some of the pilots, if some were now being taken to Imperial prisons, or if they had just all been lucky enough to die flying.

Pulling a lever she had pushed her seat back and pulled out a small case. From inside she pulled out small chain necklace and a stick of incense. Dangling the necklace from a lever she lit the stick and began muttering her prayers in the blue swirl of hyperspace. She hadn't been close to those they had lost, not really. She had actively avoided that situation. . .until they had been grounded. She had befriended and had many dealings with several of the Raiders and others just as a way to stay connected, even tangentially to someone flying during that insane time. Which if anyone ever tries to tell you how good a simulator is, punch them - with all four fists, because it doesn't. Talking though, hearing about others sharing their own flights? That comes closer, as you learn each others language for the skies and the stars you can be drawn in and remember in a way that a simulator can never truly hope to replicate.

She prayed for their souls and they would not haunt her squadron, and that they might haunt those responsible for their deaths and keep the Imperial ghosts apart from them. She said her peace and wishes they would find their peace.

After four hyper trips she finally arrived at what was a navigators nightmare, but an adrenaline junky pilots dream. The place was a cautionary tale all in itself and the fact that pirates hadn't staked it she was sure was merely because it was not near enough to any lanes with valuable resources to plunder. Coming in she joined the returning squadrons but upon landing she didn't want to talk to anyone.

She had been stuck in her ship for far too long and she was drenched in her own fluids and the reek of incense fumes. Making her way to her quarters she made sure Chak had fresh food and emptied his litter, before going into the refresher - where she was quickly asleep on her feet, arms braced on the cubical spaces walls in the mist and vibration shower as the pain and the need to push through everything subsided. Nothingness was a welcome embrace she could no longer resist.

TAG: Any (Shower police)

 

IC: 21-B33R
Hangar, Intrepid, Knifong Boneyard

“Very good, colonel,” 2-1B33R responded to the CAG with a slow, single nod of its head. An existing bar? Nothing short of a minor miracle. Clearly the droid had been sent to the right ship if it was so progressive to devote space to such a critical function for the well-being of the ship. Yes, 2-1B33R thought it could get used to this place.

Until Colonel used a three-decade old champagne to douse the returning pilots.

“I shall have to make sure that this crew understands what spirits are for imbibing and which are for…” The droid paused, searching for the right word. “…spraying.” Though it was a topic 2-1B33R felt passionately about, it knew now was not the moment to impart that wisdom.

Instead, the droid began to push the hoversled towards the corridor that led to this Watering Hole. With such propitious geography, settling into the permanent bar would be better than starting a temporary one here. Especially if the crew was just going to help themselves to whatever they could find in the crates. There was a good year for Chandrilan Blue in the bottom of one of these crates and 2-1B33R’s circuits would overload if anyone poured that over someone’s head.

The droids steady, plodding progress towards its new home was interrupted by the sudden sound of metal on metal. It turned to see someone from the deck crew putting dents into an X-wing with some emphasis and shouting. 2-1B33R didn’t know much about starfighter mechanics (its knowledge was more limited to the optimum conditions for biological vessels), but that did not seem to be the proper maintenance protocol for any craft.

“If you’ll excuse me…I believe that someone will need a drink rather soon,” 2-1B33R commented to no one in particular, continuing on its way.

---

The Watering Hole, Intrepid

​

Getting the bar set up didn’t take that long. 2-1B33R’s processor easily imposed its last organizational regimen on the shelves and storage spaces of the Watering Hole, seamlessly integrating the leftover stock into the inventory scheme. (Not what it would have chosen these brands had it been in charge of procurement, but there was nothing you couldn’t hide in a good mixed drink.)

The colonel had been on the mark: the bar needed some sprucing up. The droid would need to give it a full cleaning during off hours (nothing said a bar had to be dingy). 2-1B33R accepted this was a working bar—every Alliance joint had rough edges to it—but that didn’t mean it had to be dark and broody like it currently was. The droid would have to see about making some improvements. It was no interior decorator, but surely it could do better than this.

2-1B33R pressed a button on the music databank terminal. Nothing happened.

The droid pressed it again. Nothing.

It whacked the terminal one clenched servoclamp and suddenly music filled the space.

​

2-1B33R put a new item in its checklist: purge the music databanks and put in better music. (The droid, of course, knew all the best music and would not suffer anyone to make unauthorized additions to the catalog).

Moving back behind the bar, the droid switched out its right arm for a tool of its own devising. It was a standard servoclamp with a liquid gun attached. With this, 2-1B33R could efficiently add popular juices and beverages to its concoctions without having to search for bottles. It really was a masterpiece of engineering, if the droid might say so itself.

2-1B33R bent to look under the bar. It nudged aside the blaster rifle some previous inhabitant had helpfully stored on one of the shelves (a very prudent being indeed—2-1B33R would check the charge at a later date).

“Where are you?” 2-1B33R muttered, not finding the object of its search. “A competent designer would have put you here.”

It turned around and scanned the next most likely place, the shelves behind the bar. “Aha.” 2-1B33R used its non soda gun hand to flip a switch, turning on a large neon sign above the bar in the shape of the Alliance crest.

“The bar is open,” the droid announced to the empty space.

TAG: @Sinrebirth @Vehn, but we're open for business now!

 

IC: Petty Officer Airen Vehn
The Watering Hole
Intrepid

Airen had ended his shift about an hour after the Sheep came back home. He'd immediately hit the showers and scrubbed hard to get the grease and oil from another day working in the bowels of the Intrepid's hangar bay. Despite the smell he didn't mind the work. It wasn't necessarily what he was born to do or particularly what he was good at doing but it was enough to give him a sense of purpose. A sense of belonging. The job was certainly better considering a few years ago he had been ordering Imperial Stormtroopers around on Jedha as an Imperial officer.

That had been some mean country. Extreme heat and cold on any given day. The Rebel resistance movement had been fierce. Dedicated. Fanatical. Any armored speeder was susceptible to getting hit hard by an improvised explosive device. Overpasses were the worst. So was trash. Too many booby traps. Too many angles of attack. The anxiety, the stress, the intensity of the combat was unreal. He remembered kicking in doors at night. The alarmed cries of civilians frightened awake with blaster rifles being pointed in their face. Arresting anyone who was remotely suspicious. Then came the interrogations. The torture. That, fortunately, was not under his purview. That was the ISB. They were a different breed. A darker breed of Imperial power and menace.

Then he met Lou and everything changed. For the better.

Airen felt like cutting loose a bit tonight. Pushing aside the past he cast an eye about the semi-darkened bar. It was a bit like the rest of the Intrepid. Cold, dark, and uninviting. It would be up to the new bartender droid and the crew to make this place come to life. He saw the droid whack the music databank terminal. At first nothing happened then the terminal sprang to life with an older song. Airen felt it sounded vaguely familiar. Something about the song was catchy.

"Indeed," Airen said as he went up to the bar, "it is open. Finally. Make me something strong, will ya? The last thing I want to be thinking about in my sleep is turning wrenches. The name's Airen Vehn. Grease monkey for Lieutenant Louise Vehn. She's the smart one. The capital ship killer. You have a name or do I just call you barkeep?"

The song ended and another one came on:

"Ah yes," Airen said as he closed his eyes, "this takes me back."​

Tag: @Trieste, et al....

 

IC: Captain Adama Husk, LT Kayn Balzroth
Captain's Personal Quarters
Intrepid


Husk, as usual during this time on his shift, was reviewing after action reports. He eagerly awaited the Sheep reports knowing they would contain vital information about the most recent encounter with the Skulls, the Defenders, and perhaps shed some light on more troubling matters.

A knock on the door.

“Yeah come in,” Husk said.


Kayn stood at attention before Husk's desk and saluted, wondering why he'd been called here while the party was still going on. Had Husk decided to take him to task for mouthing off to the enemy on comms? Noting the CO's casual tone, he kept himself militarily professional, but not rabidly rigid. "Lieutenant Kayn Balzroth reporting as ordered, sir." His tone was respectfully conversational.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Husk replied as he glanced up from his report. He sighed as he folded his hands together. A brief silence existed between the two as Husk contemplated what exactly he needed to say and how to say it in a clear and concise manner.

"I've been watching you closely, Balzroth. You're doing a hell of a job out there with B Flight. The young bloods in particular look up to you. That's good. That's how it should be. You don't hold back in sharing your knowledge, you listen when someone else has an idea worth listening to, and most importantly you show initiative on the battlefield that routinely turns the fight in the Sheep's favor. Therefore, you've left me with little choice but to promote you."

Husk reached into his drawer and slid an object across the desk.

Spoiler

"Congratulations, Captain Kayn Balzroth," Husk said with a grin, "I know you won't disappoint anyone."

"Holy fra-- Uh... What the new captain means, sir, is thank you very much, and I will endeavor to fulfill my duties and live up to your faith in me. Sir." He pocketed his LT pip and replaced it with the captain's tab, making sure it sat straight on his uniform. Flight Captain Kayn Balzroth, Black Sheep Squadron, he thought. It has a good ring to it. Today is shaping up to be a great day.

Belatedly, Kayn remembered the rules for accepting military honors: take, shake, salute. He had already taken the badge, so he shook Husk's hand and saluted smartly. Biting his tongue, he restrained the urge to talk about how he could never have gotten here without the support of the other Sheep in general, B Flight in particular, and his wingmate specifically; this was not the Holo Academy Awards show, and there was no audience to play to. Sensing that Husk had no more for him, he came back to attention, more sharply this time but with a wide happy grin. "Will that be all, sir?"

Husk smiled and nodded, "That will be all. Proud of you, Captain. You've done us well."

Kayn floated happily out the door and down the corridors to the Watering Hole. "Drinks are on me! Promotion party!"


TAG: @Vehn @Rebecca_Daniels @Sgt.Matt @Mistress_Renata @TheAdmiral @Adalia-Durron @Mitth_Fisto and all the other people who helped me get here, I never could have gotten this without all of your support, this isn't just for me, it's a recognition for all of us, I can never thank you enough (stagehands pull the mike away from him and drag him off the stage as he continues to run his mouth)

 

​

IC: Firmus Khairn
Intrepid Medical Bay

“I heard we nearly lost you out there,” Cora Travyn said as she entered Firmus’s medical alcove.

Firmus stared blankly out the narrow slit of a window at the debris field beyond. He didn’t respond at first. His mind too preoccupied with the mission. How he’d let Able Flight down. The entire squadron, really.

Cora grabbed a chair and scooted it near Firmus’s hospital bed. She blocked out the beeps and whirs of the various monitoring equipment. The 2-1B droids trawling back and forth just beyond the alcove. The cries of a few wounded who’d survived the Imperial attack on the Intrepid. She reached out her hand to grasp her brother’s. A simple gesture. One of love. One of kindness.

“You got a few kills, though,” Cora said in a playful manner, “that’s got to count for something.”

Firmus rotated his head to look at Cora and stared into her eyes for the longest time. Not a word was exchanged. Only the pleasant feeling of his sister’s hand in his own. He could feel her pulse through her hands and at that he smiled knowing inwardly that everything was going to be all right.

“Command told you,” Firmus said in a croaky voice.

“They did,” Cora admitted, “Firmus, tell me, tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had this happen? You’re safe with me. You can talk with me.”

Firmus felt his eyes well up with tears and for a brief second his lips trembled, “It’s not. I’ve been broken before.”

“When?” Cora pressed.

“My last assignment. The Green Hearts.”

“Tell me what happened,” Cora gently encouraged, “tell me.”

Firmus gulped and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“We were flying low over some miserable planet. We’d picked up a signal, it was supposed to be a training flight, and were sent to investigate. We were jumped by TIE Interceptors. They ripped us to shreds. I was forced to command the survivors from the initial attack. I pulled up and away and watched as the pilots I was responsible for were blown to smithereens. I managed to break the atmosphere and hyper away in the nick of time,” Firmus admitted, “does that make me a coward? Does that make me weak?”

Cora squeezed Firmus’s hand and shook her head, “No, Firmus. You’re not a coward. You’re not weak. You couldn’t have protected those pilots any more than you already did. You know as well as I do that when the enemy has the advantage in numbers and position its hard to gain the advantage. You were put in an impossible situation. An impossible situation. And yet you survived.”

“Survived,” Firmus repeated, “at what cost?”

“You survived. That’s all that matters. Thanks to your actions out there with the Sheep not a single squadron member of that squadron died. Did you put them in a hard situation, absolutely. They fought through. They rallied. They came back and punched the Empire right in the mouth. And you know what? That’s exactly what you are going to do. You’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re going to stop feeling survivors guilt because you survived an ambush and your squadron mates did not. I know it won’t be easy. There may be times where you struggle. Where you relapse. You’ve got to find a way to see the light in every situation, brother. You’ve got to find a way to rally and lead your squadron,” Cora insisted.

“My squadron,” Firmus said, “they hate me. They think I’m a joke. A flake. A coward. How can I possibly lead them now after I broke down on comms? After the CAG himself had to hold my hand?”

“I’ll tell you how you do this,” Cora said, “you face your squadron as a man. As a leader. You acknowledge where you went wrong. The path forward. And you show them, through your actions, what kind of commander you can be.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Firmus groaned.

“It is simple,” Cora replied with a knowing look, “because I’ve been there.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Firmus grunted.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. I’ve been exactly where you are. The self loathing, possibly even suicidal, the guilt, the shame, all of it. I know what its like and you know what kept me going? You know what helped me pick myself up and carry forward when times got really hard?” Cora asked.

Firmus shook his head.

“You,” Cora said with a smile, “you kept me going, brother. Thoughts of you. Memories, really. Look, I know the two of us have seen some hard days. Very hard days. We shall see easier days soon enough. Most importantly, though, we’ll see them together.”

Firmus, ever so slightly, nodded his head and squeezed Cora’s hand.

“Together,” Firmus croaked as he drifted off to sleep.

“Together,” Cora whispered as she gave his hand one final squeeze before leaving the medical alcove.

Tag: Anyone interested in a little family interlude.....

 

A last check in between the members of A-flight! Thank you, @Mira Grau; always a pleasure writing with you!

IC: Maxime "Max" Pallas, Ethan "Vet" Malek
Intrepid, Raider hangar
Shortly after the battle

Max glanced at the fracas. Traer and Feral were glaring at each other, a few Sheep were nearby, pushing them apart while the others stood around, watching. So Delta flight was as dysfunctional as A flight. She wasn't about to gawk; it was a problem to be solved, but not her problem. She walked through the blast doors into the adjoining hangar for the Raiders, where the Defender was resting. There were four Marines guarding it at all corners, and a few techs eyeing it like hungry gundarks.

She glanced around the rest of the hangar and felt a chill. It was empty. This was the hangar for Raider squadron, and there should have been a few ships parked there, at least. But it was empty. She'd seen one go up, but the rest...?

May they have fair skies, she thought. May the Force grant them peace. They'd given their all to allow the Intrepid to escape. She reached inside her flightsuit to touch the flamestone around her neck.

With a sigh, she turned back to the Defender. It must've been one of the ones A-flight got, though she wasn't sure who had fired the kill shot. As she walked closer, she saw Malek walking from around the back of it and she walked towards him.

"Hey," she said. "Good job out there. Thanks for looking after Hollymander."

"Doing what I can," Ethan returned with a smile. "But its always a good thing to have saved a squadmate..."

"I've never been in a more intense battle! I can't imagine what it would have been like if it was my first. But I knew he'd be in good hands as your wingman."

"He is, our squad seems to truly defy our reputation as a suicide squad," Ethan said, but his gaze was somber, he knew that the losses in the last battle had been heavy.

"I think the Raiders earned that this time," she agreed sadly, looking at the empty hangar. Then she looked back to the Defender.

There was a massive hole punched through the cockpit, and the controls were slightly twisted. The Intelligence guy, Bannis Vermillion, was walking around it and making notes on a datapad while the Marine guards glared at the curious techs. Turning her head, Max could see another small detachment of Marines walking away and pushing a hoversled, with a still figure draped in a cloth. She looked back at the ship. "Our work," she said. "One of A-flight got him, though I don't know which of us."

"Difficult shot," Ethan mused. "Might have been pure chance."

"Probably." She said nothing for a moment. "Joy said that the Defender production had been discontinued in favor of the creation of the Death Star. So two we won't have to worry about and they won't be replaced. That's something."

"It is the reason we have a chance in this war…" Ethan said. "If the Empire would use the military budget on properly training and equipping their rank and file the rebellion would have long since been defeated. But they waste their taxpayers’ money on superweapons. Though who knows, maybe they are becoming smarter again now that the biggest blew up." He said it lightly but it was a real concern.

"Ugh, don't say that! You'll jinx us!" Max stared at the ruined cockpit. It could have been any one of them. She glanced at Vermillion, thinking that she should ask Sparky to share the schematics they'd dug out of the engineering database of the Intrepid. "Have you heard anything about Khairn? I saw his ship; did he make it?"

"Hey, with our luck so far they are probably dumb enough to try and build a second Death Star." Ethan joked but then a shadow fell over him. Yes the Death Star had only been operational for a couple of days but it had destroyed two entire planets in those few hours. "Not sure either," he replied to Max‘s later question. "I didn‘t go over the casualty lists."

Max looked at Malek with horror. "Another Death Star?! Bite your tongue!" She took another look at the Defender and sighed. "Well, I'm hitting the showers. I prefer champagne on my inside, not on the outside. Speaking of which, first round is on me tonight."

"I might take you up on that promise." Ethan said, not wanting to speculate about further Imperial atrocities.

Max turned to go. "Oh," she said, "can you get your flight report to me by tomorrow morning, so I can turn it in to...Husk, I guess?"

"Sure," Ethan said, a bit absentmindedly. "Have to go over a few things anyway,"

"Thanks," said Max. With a last look at the Defender, she headed back to pilots' quarters to get cleaned up, leaving Ethan to his thoughts.

TAG: Anyone

 

IC: Zero Maderas
Time For Cheers!
After one fresh shower and moving into his assigned room, Zero came out refreshed with hair slicked up in a pompadour. He swapped out his regular black market togs into the gear he wore daily on the slicing grind; a short nerf-hide jacket, black tank-top shirt, grey mechanics pants "borrowed" from a friend, and a pair of bright white Rebel officers boots that were snug on the toes. Boots had a story behind them, he remembered nicking them from the officer who put him on ship lubricant duty for a month, some man called "Azure Leader" or some nonsense, Zero didn't care save that the boots would look better on him than the elite flight groups. Hope Mermaid is still up for that Dejarik game, maybe after a little time in the bar, I'll meet back up with her for a friendly game between teammates Zero moved out of the way of a small astromech cleaning the floors, before reaching his target destination; the ships very own bar/hangout.

"The Watering Hole, this is my kind of hangout!" Zero said with a cheery tone.

Walking into the bar area, he noticed a few people were arriving in the bar including a droid bartender at the counter. Taking a next to a younger man explaining his order to the droid, the slicer decided to pop in for his drink order. "Morning Tender, name's Zero Maderas and I'm a wanted man in 17 systems for slicing the Empire. I would like a shot and a brew of your strongest stuff tonight, and also your name, I want to get to know each other."

Who's to say socializing was dangerous for your health...

TAG: @Vehn , @Trieste , @Sarge , @Mistress_Renata , and anyone else looking for a drink (And the pursuit of happy hour!)

 

IC: Zara Yaren
Later

The hangar had pretty well cleared out by the time Zara returned after a shower and a change of clothes. Most likely the party had moved to the lounge, and she'd heard whispers of a Defender in the other bay that was probably distracting their more technical- and tactical-minded. The bar was where she was headed, but she had a quick stop to make first.

There was some sort of clanking from behind A-flight's X-wings as she passed; everyone presumably hard at work on the repairs from their latest match against the Empire. She'd forgotten to tell Kio about the shield generator before she left earlier, and while he'd probably already found the issue, she thought– well, what did she think? That it'd be helpful, that it'd be nice to save him some time and trouble? Maybe.

Someone else was standing by her black A-wing, an unfamiliar blonde head of hair next to Kio's long ponytail. They both had their backs to her, and from the gestures Kio was making, he was giving directions to the other person. A new pilot, maybe, or deck crew.

"... need a map in this place, at least for the first few weeks. Or just ask for directions, most people on board are friendly." Kio pointed at the A-wing. "Might suggest keeping your distance from this one, though, she can be... difficult."

Zara could have laughed; difficult was a gentle way of putting it, especially when he clearly hadn't noticed her approach. Far worse things had been said to her face.

"Hey," she said, and Kio spun around in surprise. "I–"

It wasn't his obvious embarrassment that had her words stick in her throat. It wasn't him at all that made her heart pound suddenly, drowning out whatever words were being formed by their moving lips.

It was a familiar face, older and yet somehow unchanged, that slowed down the time around her. Someone who had to die.

She couldn't feel her fingers, but she knew they curled around her pistol. Her arm, so unsteady, could still raise and aim. As slowly as everything was moving, she couldn't tell if it was just her. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to let that stop her.

There was someone in her way, as she drew the blaster, but she didn't care. The weight of a hand gripping her wrist tried to keep it from rising, but she fired once anyway, letting the stray shot bounce harmlessly off the floor into the magnetic shielding. A ringing joined the pounding in her head, more than just from the sound of the shot; alarms, maybe. She still had time. She had to.

There was still someone in her way, but the grip had lessened, warned off by her missed shot. The face she was locked onto was closer, now, but she couldn't focus enough to make out what he was doing. She tried to wrench her wrist away but the hands on it remained, pushing, shouting? She didn't have time for this.

Zara squeezed the trigger once, then twice for good measure. This time she didn't miss, and the weight against her dropped away. She raised the blaster again, aiming right between the murderous blue eyes, and now, now–

Something hit her from behind and she stumbled; no, someone? Her shot went wide, again striking the magnetic field harmlessly. Before she could recover, a fist swung towards her and she found herself looking up at the hangar ceiling. There was a TIE fighter panel up there, and that's all she could focus on through the pain splitting through her head.

Another sharp pain in her wrist and she knew she'd failed as the blaster was kicked away. Just end it already, she thought as the hated face came into view. Finish the job like you meant to.

The second fist came down and she finally got to close her eyes.

--------

IC: Torren Aves
New and confused

"We're going to need medical," he said, not recognising any of the people who'd come to help. He'd yet to be looped in on the Intrepid's comm protocols, but someone here surely knew who to call. "For both of them."

Torren knelt over Zara's unconscious body for a moment more before standing. Of all the ships in the rebel fleet, how had he ended up assigned to the only one with someone who wanted him dead? Instead he moved to the other one, the technician that had been so helpfully guiding him on where to go. Two point blank shots; if they didn't get him into bacta soon...

What a great start to his rebel career.

TAG: Any

--------

OOC: CS approved by @Vehn some time ago And now to debut...

Character's Name: Torren Aves
Callsign: Cipher
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: On loan to Intrepid from Rebel Intelligence pending reassignment
Languages: Basic, Huttese, various trade languages
Residence: Last assignment on Serenity
Home Planet: Coruscant
Age: 35
Approved Special Features (any force sensitivity would go here): None

Character Traits:
Personality: Naturally quiet, but will match the tone of any group. Patient and doesn’t get bored easily, which benefited both his undercover and analyst work. Unsure of his position in the Rebellion, eager to prove he’s an asset outside of his past role in the Empire. Carries guilt for his past crimes against the Rebellion, but has hope he’ll be accepted the way other ex-Imperials have. Very protective of his few remaining personal items.
Habits/Mannerisms: Stays up late, rarely seen without a cup of caf, Imperial habits sometimes slip through.
Likes/Dislikes: Likes working by himself, dislikes a head on approach when subterfuge could be more effective.
Racial Traits: None

Strengths and Weaknesses: Highly adaptable, and skilled at fitting into any environment. Able to replicate almost any accent when speaking Basic. An adept undercover agent and a fair pilot, but has been flying a desk for years and is out of practice. Kept up his close combat skills in drills but would prefer not to fight at all. Struggles with guilt and self-doubt about his previous work against the Rebellion.

Looks:
Appearance: Slightly above average height, an average build, and a handsome but easily forgettable face. Changes hair colour, style, and facial hair as needed for undercover work.
Picture:

Eye Color: Blue
Hair/Fur: Blonde, previously dark brown. Short and messy, a recent trim to get away from Imperial requirements.
Skin Color: Light
Clothing: Anything but an Imperial uniform. A pendant, worn on a chain under clothing.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: A sister, still with the Empire.
Spouse/Children: None
Biography:

It was a dream of adventure and freedom that led Torren to join the Empire, away from the overcrowded depths of his homeworld. Adept at fitting into any environment, he was quickly recruited to Imperial Intelligence and tasked as a young officer to infiltrate and take down a suspected rebel cell. After years of work keeping the cell's damage contained, he led the entire cell, with one exception, into a setup that led to their deaths or imprisonment.

With one member escaping to potentially ruin any future undercover work, Torren was assigned to a desk job and data analysis until the destruction of Alderaan, supposedly by the rebellion. With all the data available to him in his position, he was able to see the Empire's lies for what they were, and began funnelling information to the rebellion from his quiet position.

After the rebel attack on the listening post where he was stationed, Torren's timely escape was looked on by the Empire with suspicion. A quick exit, facilitated by the rebellion, brought him into the hands of allies. With his face known and wanted within the Empire, Torren's undercover skills were still wasted, and he was assigned to the Intrepid until he got settled in the rebels' methods. Though the rebellion knows of his past and his work against them, he's worked hard to prove his loyalty and continues to do so.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: None
Weapons: Pistols
Starship Qualifications (X-Wing, A-Wing, Y-Wing, B-Wing): Capable with shuttles and land vehicles, basic TIE training.
Droid: None

 

IC: Flight Captain Kayn Balzroth & PO3 Lughdyt
"This Is Your Captain Speaking"



His omnibox was perfectly tuned, and his voice had never sounded better. Kayn was merrily singing to the crowd in the Watering Hole with the invincible assurance of a happy drunk in love with the world. The only thing missing to make the evening perfect would be for Zara to show up and hear how good he sounded tonight.

Just as he finished the song, Lughdyt burst through the entrance.

"Lug! Best crew chief-plane captain on this whole shtupid ship! Folks, I wouldn't be celebrating tonight without the hard work of thish ornery old Ugnaught! Lemme buy you a drink, Luggy!"

Lughdyt hesitated, seeing the condition the Devaronian was in. "Sorry, boss, but we need you in th' hangar now. I mean right now."

Kayn frowned, vaguely sensing something amiss. "What? Why? The party is in here, now, not out there."

"Come on, this is serious, sir." Seeing the new captain still not moving, Lughdyt seized his arm and pulled him toward the exit, but Kayn was still resisting, so he said what he was sure would get the pilot's attention. "Your wingmate needs you."

Finally, Kayn saw the urgent concern in Lughdyt's eyes. He got a sick feeling in his gut as he was dragged out of the bar.


TAG: @Rebecca_Daniels @Trieste and all the barflies in the Watering Hole

 

IC: Baniss Vermillion
Intrepid hanger

Baniss tried to quietly shoo away the mechanics wanting to part the precious TIE Defender he wasn't sure if he convinced them to leave so he started a fairly loud, for the immediate area, very official conversation with the ship's security to protect this extremely top secret item. He then requested the Black Sheep for the gun cam footage and other data from Delta Flight. Baniss didn't want to miss any data, especially if there was a possibility that a new tactic against one of the most dangerous starfighters could change things.

Baniss punched in his code, and was surprised not to find a seat, he guessed that they had removed it with the body. Either way, he needed to team up with someone to get this fighter back into fighting shape and run some tests. Baniss started gathering data from the TIE's computer.

Baniss had also received a message that his team would inspect the communications arrays to see if anything was there. He heard a blaster go off in the hangar and saw something being broken up. He saw a purple Twi’lek and winced a bit, but he also knew that there would come a time when she could be useful for operations so that he would keep her in mind.

TAG: @Vehn, (mentions for), @Sarge, @Rebecca_Daniels

 

IC: Maxime "Max" Pallas, Firmus Khairn
Intrepid Medical Bay, day after the big victory

Max was still in an upbeat mood when she arrived at the medical bay. She'd have been happier if Zara wasn't in the brig, and Husk's message to report to his office was ominous. But the fact that the Sheep --A-flight, specifically!-- had taken out not one but TWO Defenders was better than any stimulant. Still, she was cautious when she entered the facility and found their squadron leader and her most recent wingman. Folds, Flagg, Zara, and now Khairn...

"Commander?" she said. "I just wanted to stop in and see how you're doing."

Khairn had slept again. It seemed his mind, his very soul, needed the rest. He heard a voice, thought for a moment it was his sister, and then spoke, "Flight Officer Pallas, I," Khairn paused, "I wanted to apologize for what happened out there. I had some old demons return at the worst possible moment. I am relieved to see you made it back alive. I am getting better every day. Congratulations on your Defender kill. Impressive. Did everyone make it back? I didn't see."

"Everyone made it back, which is a bit of a miracle, all things considered. I've never been a battle like that. Not that big. I can't blame you, sir, for...a momentary weakness."

"I can't say I've been in a battle that size either," Khairn admitted though he appreciated that Flight Officer Pallas was at least being understanding, "but we made it back. We made it back."

Khairn fell quiet. Thoughts came to him. Questions to ask.

"There's scuttlebutt on this ship that we're being tracked," Khairn said, "what do you think? I wouldn't rule anything out, personally."

"I'm sure of it," said Max. "I said so shortly after the Naboo mission. Everyone blew it off. But now, well...at least people are taking the threat seriously. I've been having my astromech time our missions, keeping track of the time from the start of the engagement to the arrival of the Defenders. It's pretty consistent."

"You could send all the signals out from a comm array type device," Khairn pointed out eager to have his mind work on something challenging, "but you need a human element to assure success. Usually there's more than two people involved in this kind of thing. One to carry out the actions and the other to receive and adjust accordingly so as not to get caught. You have a sharp mind. Others will try and force your hand to carry out a witch hunt. Don't let them. Never let them. You need to be judicious if you go down that route. Perhaps enlist the help of those you explicitly trust."

"Hm," said Max. Who could she explicitly trust? Most of the Sheep didn't trust her. "The main thing is not to let whoever it is know we're on to them. It could cause them to lay low or change their tactics. That will make it a lot harder. Anyway..." She stood up. "I am supposed to be meeting Captain Husk. I'm not sure why; I'm wondering if I screwed up the flight reports. Perhaps I'll mention this to him." She glanced at Khairn. "You believe me, don't you, sir?"

Khairn gave a salute, slightly weaker than he normally would, and replied, "I believe you without a doubt in my mind, Flight Officer Maxime Pallas. Go talk to Husk. He's a fair man. A good man. Believe me, I would know."

"Thank you, sir. Get some rest." She saluted back (it still felt strange) and went off to face the Captain of the Intrepid.

TAG: Anyone

 

IC: Kayn "Freaking Out" Balzroth
Intrepid Medbay

He stumbled slightly as he rushed through the entrance, looking around frantically. "Where's my wingmate? Zara Yaren. My wingmate. She's in here."

"Sir, unless you have a medical emergency or an appointment, we'll need you to wait outside," said a droid. Kayn ignored it and pushed forward, catching a glimpse of a stretcher and a familiar shade of purple. A pair of armed marines blocked his path.

"Your wingmate is being seen to, sir," said the older marine.

"Zara! What happened?!"

"Smell this guy!" said the younger marine. "I think he's been drinking paint thinner."

They had solid grips on both of Kayn's arms, stopping his advance, but he was close enough to get a good look at Zara. She looked small on the stretcher, lying unconscious with closed eyes. Her bruised face was slack. Without her usual scowl, she looked vulnerable, helpless. He surged forward against the marines. "My wingmate!"

"Captain! Your wingmate needs medical attention right now. The medics are taking care of her. You're getting in the way. You need to be a good wingmate and give them room to work." The older marine backed up his words with a touch of his stun baton. It was set to its lowest level, just a warning 'tickle'.

"But..."

"These medics are professionals and they know their duty. As soon as there is any news on her condition, they will report it to her chain of command. As her wingmate, you are in her chain of command, yes?"

"Yesh. Yes," Kayn enunciated carefully. "Direct supervisor and reporting official."

"Then you'll be the first one to get the word. There's a waiting room right across the corridor; let's step in there and grab a cup of caf. You want one, private?" The younger marine nodded.

Kayn was still fixated on Zara's face. It took another tickle of the stun baton before he accepted defeat and shuffled out.


TAG: @Rebecca_Daniels @Mira Grau and anyone else in Medbay

 

IC: Jocelyn "Joy" Sunwalker
Location: hangar deck the Intrepid

Joy heard Lou’s voice telling her to stand down “Don’t worry, I am not going to fight.” she growled and did not add unless provoked. Of all days Traer decided to make a scene today when she finally was so close to her beloved Defender. There was some concern for Feral as well, but she knew that he could handle himself. He did not need his girlfriend to come to his rescue. As amusing as that thought might be.

She was going to try to stand between the two and prevent it from going further. Joy caught a glimpse of Baniss approaching the Defender ‘No, no, no!’ she thought frantically. Jocelyn was aware that she was being irrational, but could not help it. Her stay with the Rebellion was not exactly the happiest one, aside from meeting Lou and Ianna, and Feral. She knew she did not belong and the others probably felt that too.

Jocelyn opened her mouth to say something to both Feral and Traer when Feral launched a verbal assault on Seppie. Her eyes widened. There was more going on. Did something happen during the battle? She had been too preoccupied with her own targets…

She tensed when it was Traer’s turn to speak and gave a mental exhale as the man decided not to escalate further. Smart move, all things considered. She glared at him, saluting her. At that moment she wanted to clock him in the face for causing the commotion.

“You okay?” she turned towards Feral. “Do you need to have it checked out?” she let her mental guard down for a moment to allow some concern to creep into her voice “If not, we can join the others, if you want?” she gave him a coy smile and a slight blush.

TAG: @Vehn @darthbernael @adaml83 (mentioned) @Sinrebirth @Adalia-Durron , anyone else?

 

IC: Zero Maderas
A little game of chance (Cept with no ripping of arms)

There we go! Nice and set-up for my game with any person wanting to challenge me Zero clicked on the electric tables digital buttons; a few whirs and digital hums from the checker patterned holo-projectors, the Dejarik table was finally alive. The bar owner knew how to make the pub interesting, not only were there a few various tables or counters to rest upon but there was a jukebox, electronic pool table, and digital chess table as well for the gambling types. Drinking up some liquid courage from the counter, a little mix of Black Fungus and Serenno Scotch with twin chasers of Spotchka for good measure, the slicer was loaded for a few fun games until bedtime. Plus the place was getting packed with pilots, gunners, maintenance workers, and other rebel staff on the Intrepid. Guess I should wait until someone comes up, then I'll show them my skill with the Kintan Strider, no matter how outmatched it is.

FWEET! GLEEN!

With one short pull of the knobs on the table, all of the holographic monsters flickered to life on their respective squares, each ambling by in their prebuilt animated moves. Now all Zero had to do was wait for the right person to play with, there was an abundance of rebels to gamble against...

TAG: Anyone willing to play against the almighty, magnificent, glorious SPYGUY! (Please be gentle on the arm sockets.....)

 

IC: Zara Yaren
Medbay

She opened her eyes to the harsh lights of the Intrepid's medbay. How long had it been? Hours, days? Maybe a part of her had been hoping she wouldn't wake at all. Her face stung as she blinked, but both eyes were working well enough to make out the entourage she'd picked up: two marines standing at the edge of her vision.

Maybe she should have tried harder. Same consequences, better result. At least she'd be feeling better about facing whatever was to come instead of this crushing weight of failure. She'd blown her single chance and now–

"I'm ready to go," she said, pushing herself up despite the aching pain in her wrist. "I don't need–"

A two-bee droid rolled its way over, but she ignored its insistence that she lay back down. It didn't matter that she'd just woken up, all of this was a waste of resources now; why spend the bacta when it could go to someone actually useful to the rebellion? "I don't need medical attention," she continued, staring down the marines as they stepped closer, "let's go."

TAG: The brig's visiting hours are now open

 

OOC: Another great collaboration with @Mistress_Renata. Thank you!

IC: Captain Adam Husk/Maxime Pallas
Personal Quarters
Intrepid

Husk was gazing out his narrow window when a knock on the door took him away from his thoughts.

"Come," Husk said as the door opened and in entered Maxime Pallas, "I won't bite, I promise."

Max edged into the room, eyeing Husk nervously. She hadn't sliced anything recently, and the project in Engineering hadn't been shut down. Maybe it was her flight report? She'd never filed one for the whole flight before. But the message that had come on her datapad directed her here.

As she came to the front of his desk she started to panic. Was she supposed to stand at attention? Was she supposed to salute? Husk had been an Imp, professional. She took a deep breath. She was a Rebel. More than that, she was Corellian. She couldn't be otherwise. Still, she stood respectfully, shoulders back, clasping her arms behind her. "Sir?"

Husk grinned. He could tell Max was nervous under that uniform. He studied her briefly before speaking.

"At ease, Flight Officer Pallas," Husk said referring to Max by her formal rank, "I've been doing a lot of research into you. Nothing too serious but enough to get a good sense of what you bring to this squadron. A sense of professionalism. A sense of duty. A sense of caring out for your fellow pilots. Most importantly a sense of leadership."

Husk let those words marinate a bit before continuing, "The Alliance needs good leadership. This war, as you know, has taken its toll on nearly every system. No corner has gone untouched. Not even those who wish to stay neutral," Husk paused as he examined Max briefly, "or those who have their own security forces."

"You've left me no other choice, though, based on your actions since you joined our squadron," Husk said as his tone grew more serious, "no choice at all."

"Sir?" Max wasn't about to retreat yet. Maybe he did know about the slicing? But she was trying to catch the mole! She squared her shoulders, waiting for the shoe to drop.

"Left me no choice but to approve your promotion to lieutenant. Congratulations, Lieutenant Maxime Pallas," Husk said as he stood and offered his hand, "oh one last thing."

Husk reached into his drawer and slid the appropriate rank insignia across the table.



"Let's make it official, shall we?" Husk said with a grin.

Max stared, then smiled ruefully. "Not quite how I thought I'd earn it. Thank you, sir." She picked it up, looking at the sheen of light across the metal, then fastened it to her jacket. Then she hesitated. "Sir, there is something I wanted to mention."

"Speak freely," Husk encouraged.

"Shortly after our mission on Naboo, it became clear that the Skull squadron were tracking us. Every time we went somewhere, they would arrive within 10 to 12 minutes of our arrival. The only times they were delayed were on missions where we weren't following the original mission parameters. Our trip to SonTay, for example. They didn't show up until we were about to jump out." Max bit her lip. "Sir, I'm afraid we may have a mole on our ship, someone who is transmitting our position and our missions to the Empire, specifically to the Skulls." Husk was frowning, but he hadn't stopped her, so she continued.

"I don't think he or she is going through the regular online comms, or it would have been detected in the usual security sweep." And because she'd sliced in to check for herself a few months ago. "I suspect there's an external comms array that isn't tied into the ship's systems, probably mounted on the hull somewhere. I was going to suggest that we round up all the astromechs available and send them on a sweep to see if they can identify the array. If we find it, we can decide what to do."

Husk sat down at his desk, motioned for Max to take a seat as well, and folded his hands together. He didn't speak for a long while. When he did speak his words carried a great weight to them.

"I am afraid you are correct," Husk said, "and I am going to approve this search with the astromechs. They may very well turn up something and if they do...."

Husk trailed off.

"You are aware the Intrepid was an Imperial ship at one point. There may be code buried within its systems in addition to an external array that is allowing the continued tracking and communication with the Empire. I can't say for sure which option is better or which option is actually the truth. I do believe we have a leak on this vessel. I personally felt that after Wallings left it would shore itself up but it hasn't. It's only gotten worse. For the Skulls to gain high level knowledge of this ship means something equally chilling."

Husk paused.

"It means that my own command staff is potentially compromised," Husk admitted.

Tag: @Mistress_Renata, et al....