Star Wars More Tales of the Black Sheep! A Starfighter Game --new players welcome

It’s back! The anything can happen Rebel Alliance starfighter game created in 2017 by @Bardan_Jusik and continued by @Vehn about a group of misfits and troublemakers gathered into one starfighter squadron (because no one else wanted them). Somehow, they have managed to find victories for the Alliance when they were expected to die. These are…



The Rules (haven't changed much).

1) Please follow the RPF Rules and be mindful of the Terms of Service and Rules of the Jedi Council Forums.

2) No God modding or autohitting.

3) Game Master's word is law. Mistress_Renata is the GM.

4) All character sheets must be PMed (Private Message) to the GM (Mistress Renata --see above) for approval prior to posting.

5) Any OOC or social chat will be conducted in the “Watering Hole” located in the RPF Resource Thread. Star Wars, starfighters, real fighter planes, flying and aviation, all are appropriate topics.

6) Inactive Player Character rule: Barring unforeseen circumstances all tags should be replied to within a week (7 days). I plan on GM updates for the game on at least a bi-weekly basis. Real life always takes precedence over online happy online fun pretendy time though, so if something comes up and you're able, let the GM and other players know that you'll be absent (I know sometimes even that isn't possible though). If you miss any tags, I will continue to tag you and your character for the duration of your character's current assignment, afterwards your character will either be quietly dropped from the game (though they can return at a later date) or killed off. If you're having an Attack of Life (it happens), we'll work around you. But you should really let us know. If your character is killed due to inactivity, you can generate a new one; of course you're still welcome to play.

7) All major storylines (a storyline that affects the game as a whole) must have prior approval by the GM via PM. If you have an idea, please PM it to me and we'll work together to flesh it out and get it into the game.

8) Please no Jedi/Sith characters. A character may be force sensitive if you wish, but untrained and uneducated in the ways of the Force and thus unable to harness it in any meaningful way.

9) You can designate your character's dialogue with a colored text or leave it plain black, as long as it's readable.

10) VERY IMPORTANT -- Have fun, and May the Force be with you!


And here we go...

 

The Galactic War rages on. The Empire continues to hunt down the Rebels, seeking revenge for the loss of the Death Star. But that one victory has encouraged many in the Galaxy to seek out the Alliance, hoping to win back their freedom once and for all.

The Black Sheep have finally destroyed their longtime adversaries, the Death’s Head Squadron, and won the respect of the Intrepid, as well as High Command. But there are big changes in store, and no one knows what lies ahead…



Maxime Pallas
The Watering Hole, Intrepid pilot's lounge

Maxime Pallas lounged in the corner of the Intrepid pilot’s lounge, affectionately referred to as the Watering Hole, glancing at the new trophy which had been added to the wall. The armor plating of a TIE Defender, painted with a red Skull symbol. A satisfying victory, and yet her own squadron was…in stasis. It had been just over three weeks since the celebration after Terranor, and in that time a LOT had happened.

The Sheep hangar was looking empty. Lou and her husband were gone, leaving the Rebellion for a private life. They had slipped away, telling only the members of C flight. The Valkyria was gone, too. Skipper was still recovering, but he was healthy enough to want his ship back, and so Tehanis and Hollymander had flown it out to him for a short reunion, hitching a ride back on a supply shuttle for the Intrepid.

Zara was missing. She’d survived the attack, and jumped into hyperspace with the rest of them, but her ship hadn’t arrived at the Intrepid. She hadn’t reported damage, and from all accounts, it seemed as if she was just AWOL, taking the A-wing and moving on. She’d be in trouble if the Alliance caught up with her, but Max was sympathetic. The young Twi’lek had been haunted by her personal demons for a long time; Max only wished she’d reached out to her squadmates for help. If they could find her, perhaps there was still hope.

Deco, the young man they’d freed from SonTay, had been killed in action. Mermaid had transferred to Viper squadron (members of both squadrons were taking bets on when the wedding would take place, but Mermaid and Tank weren’t talking). Khairn was gone; transferred to his sister’s ship, and the fleet had broken up. Wolf was gone, transferring to another unit as their XO, exclusively B-wings. Malek was gone, officially retiring. It had been hard for Max to stop from grinning when she’d heard THAT news. They hadn't gotten along since Hoth. The herd had thinned out a lot.

The worst was the Kid. Ianna Mcear hadn’t come back from Terranor. She’d reported damage to her ship, there had been a crash… the Y-wing had been discovered, badly damaged, and the faithful droid, Pat, a twisted mass of circuits; unrecoverable. Of the Kid, there was no trace. Dead? Captured? While most of her personal things had been put up for sale, as was the custom, a bidding war had broken out among the Black Sheep for the green and white limmie jersey that the young woman had worn at every possible moment. Max had called for a hold on the bidding, and had an urgent discussion with the other Sheep, discovering that they all had one goal in common. In the end, they’d pooled their resources, and Joy had officially won the jersey. It was framed now, hanging on the wall of the Black Sheep Ready room.

They’d had a lot of down time, done a few patrols, some scouting missions. She and Vermillion and Hollymander had quietly done some investigations, hoping to find a new mission, as well as news of their missing squadmates, without much to show for it. The squadron, the Intrepid, the Rebellion all seemed to be in a lull, stagnant, with no clear path ahead.

Until yesterday, that is, when three ships had shown up in system. A Corellian corvette, an old RepSec heavy frigate, and something called the Patchwork Queen, which looked as if four different ships had a head on collision, with the result covered in heavy armor plating and painted in whatever someone’s grandfather had lying around on a shelf somewhere.

Within a few hours, a mixed squadron of X-wings and B-wings arrived to take up residence in the hangar that had belonged to the Star Raiders, and a new contingent of Marines came aboard, along with a group of Alliance engineers. All in all, it seemed as if there were some big plans for the Intrepid and the Rebellion. At some point, Max hoped someone would share them with the Sheep. Or at least, what was left of them.

TAG: Everyone -- if you want to have your characters react to the events of the last episodes, this is your chance. I'm putting a few chess pieces on the board, not ready to move yet.

 

Imperial Counter-Intelligence Corps
Coruscant

“Sir?”

Lieutenant-Colonel Pemori Sataran looked up from his console, glaring at the young officer who was hovering in the doorway, with a nervous technician behind him. “Garvid. What is it?”

Captain Garvid cleared his throat. “Sir. We’ve been able to recover some of the surveillance footage from…the wedding.”

Sataran turned all of his attention to the duo. The vile attack on the wedding of the Marquis of Queensbury and Vilia Redd had been a black eye to the Empire. Many Imperial leaders and their staffs had been wiped out and no one had any idea that the attack was coming, there had been no whisper of a threat. Even though COMPNOR had been somewhat successful, playing it off to the general population as an example of Rebel terrorism, the fact that such an important target had been successfully destroyed had been (and continued to be) a major embarrassment to both his office and to the ISB.

“Let’s see it.”

The three human men stood over the viewscreen, watching it play out. Sataran’s eyes narrowed. A small group of people escaping through the rear service area…why the hell hadn’t that been locked down? Some were in Imperial uniforms, some were in serving gear…

“When did we get this?”

“Most of the footage and the security systems were damaged. Spiked, very effectively, with a malpro that eliminated nearly all the security footage and corrupted everything. This is all we were able to get, and it’s rather unfocused.”

“Can we clean it up?”

“No, sir,” said the technician. “This is as clear as we’ve been able to get.”

It was precious little. Just a few seconds. “We think these are the Black Sheep? The uniforms…who are they? Have we been able to identify them?”

Garvid bit his lip. “It’s uncertain, sir. We thought at first that they were simply escaping, but it is definitely a possibility that these were infiltrators.”

“Have we identified them?!”

“Sir!” Garvid tapped a few commands, freezing the action and highlighting a few individuals. “Major Mackenzie Hollymander. He was assigned as a security liaision to the event.”

“Do we think he passed information along to them?”

“Hard to say, sir. He seems to be a prisoner or a hostage here.”

“And the rest?”

“Lieutenant Jocelyn Sunwalker. Formerly a member of the Death’s Head squadron, we’re certain she defected to the Rebellion. Her father was Admiral K’rill Sunwalker. We captured her a few months ago, she was being held at SonTay. The Rebels retrieved her when they attacked the camp.”

“So she could have given them information.”

“Yes, sir. She was one of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s protegees and helped form and train the Death’s Head squadron.”

“And was probably instrumental in its destruction. Who else?”

“Lieutenant Anais Corrin. We think she was also taken prisoner.”

"These two?” Sataran leaned forward, squinting. The faces of the two men were more blurry and difficult to make out.

“We haven’t been able to identify them sir. This woman, though…Lieutenant Louise Gray. Another traitor. She was also captured on SonTay, but was liberated by the Rebels.”

“And the others?”

“We have no idea. Except..look at this.”

Sataran stared in disbelief at the beautiful young woman with long flame-red hair, who seemed to be dancing, with… “My word!” The vid cut out shortly after and he replayed it.

“Well, we can work with some of this. Assign it to Doston.”

“Yes, sir. And…the Jedi, sir?”

Sataran sighed. The Grand Inquisitor’s office had been disbanded. Their mission had been successful, eliminating any of the remaining Jedi, and they had done themselves out of a job. “I’ll transmit this to the Emperor’s office. We’ll see what they want us to do.”

TAG: No one. Food for thought. More to come!

 

Imperial Procurement Bureau
Project Allocation Division
Coruscant

“And you’re sure you’ll only get 750 thousand megagrams out of Calanthis?” Commander Jaivenn rubbed his temple as his eyes flickered between the screens in front of him.

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so.” The Commander took a long look at his specification list.

“It won’t be enough, Lieutenant” he said flatly. “Do you need more personnel?”

“It’s not about personnel, sir,” said Lieutenant Dhar. The young woman’s image flickered on the readout. “The geological survey shows that there simply isn’t more to extract. You will need to find an additional source.”

“Are there other planets that you know of with a sufficient source of marvium?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. You’d have to ask someone at the Resource Procurement Mining Division.”

“All right. Well get everything you can, then.”

“Shall I continue to send it to the central depot, sir?”

Jaivenn pressed his fingertips into his temple. The headache was growing stronger, and even spreading. It should be sent directly to the project, and yet this was top secret. Re-routing the shipment would raise suspicions and possibly tip off the Rebels. That could not be allowed to happen.

“Yes, yes. All right. That’s all.”

As Dhar’s image flickered out, he turned to his aide. “We’ll need to find other sources, Meck.”

Meck looked over at the display screen. “All of the marvium is earmarked, sir.”

“The Emperor may have other ideas.” Jaiven stared at the specs again. Then he sighed. “We’ll have to put out bids, I’m afraid.”

“For the marvium?”

“For all of this.” Jaivenn glared at the specs list.

Meck looked alarmed. “Do we want to use the IDIQs?”

Jaivenn shook his head. “They won’t be able to fulfill all of these. All right, get started.”

“Uh, sir?”

“Yes, Meck?”

“And…which accounting string, sir?”

“It’s for the Sanctuary project. Use the code for Sanctuary, materials.”

“If the bidders want to know what Sanctuary is, what should I tell them?”

“You tell them that the information is released on a need-to-know basis, and that they do not need to know, obviously.” Jaivenn moved around his desk, rummaging in a compartment for a vial of pain reducer. This headache was throbbing now. He wanted his anxious underling to disappear and just get the job done.

“Sir, if these are all for Project Sanctuary, Moff Jerjerrod will have to sign off the bid requisitions personally.”

“Yes?”

“On every single one?”

Jaivenn smirked. “Yes, that is the procedure.” He glanced at the Admin droid waiting patiently nearby. “You’d better get started drafting them. But Meck, you’ll need to review them before we forward them to him for sign off.”

Meck took the datachit and inserted into the droid. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

“For the Empire,” said Jaivenn placidly.

“For the Empire,” muttered Meck as he led the droid away.

TAG: @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent

 

Emperor’s Throne Room
Imperial Flagship Dread

Galagus Renn, the Emperor’s Hand, stood quietly by the wall, waiting for his Dark master to conclude his business with the two sector Moffs. None of the other Hands were there, he was apparently the only one summoned. As it should be. He was, in his own mind at least, the competent one. The one willing to do what needed to be done to carry out his Majesty’s will.

When the Moffs had gone, Palpatine waved his hand, beckoning the young man over. Renn approached, dropping to his knee. “What is your bidding, My Master?” he murmured, dropping his eyes in respect.

“Another Force user has emerged among the Rebels, another who thinks they can become a Jedi.” Palpatine opened a hand, and sent a small holoprojector floating through the air. Renn looked at the loop, showing a group of people, a few Imperial officers, some civilians and… He squinted. That wasn’t…? No, it was not Jade, one of the other Hands. He did not recognize this woman, in a beautiful green dress with flowing red hair…and a lightsaber.

He looked at her moves. “Untrained,” he noted.

“Yes. This was the wedding on Naboo. The escape.” Palpatine’s eyes glowed in anger as he looked at the video clip. “I had sent Mara Jade to the wedding.”

“And she did not destroy this woman?”

“No. She failed me.” Palpatine looked at Renn. “You will not fail me. This woman flies with the Black Sheep, a Rebel fighter squadron. Turn her. Or destroy her. And destroy the rest of them.”

“Yes, my Master.” Palpatine waved his hand, retrieving the device and dismissing the young man, who backed out of the Prescence and then turned to go to the hangar. He was the Hand of the Emperor. He would deal the Emperor’s judgement on the foolish human who wanted to be a Jedi. From what he had seen, it would be easy.

TAG: No one, yet

 

Pudge
On Way to The Watering Hole, Intrepid

Karabast! I needed a quick break from this, everyone's busy resting or training; so why not join them for at least a minute before going back to fix up luncheon. Pudge cracked his neck to pop a few annoying air-bubbles, his arms were tired from lugging in the influx of supplies for the next few trips as the Intrepid had a supply shuttle stop by after the Sheep's major conflict on some dirtball he could barely get the name of. Yet, even after first joining the Intrepid staff; Pudge found himself dealing with a somber fate that befell the crowds he joined in the Clone Wars. Multiple pilots, some of which he met during his stay, had either left the cause of their own personal accord or fall in a blaze of combat. Commander Dice, you and your brothers give these kids a decent welcome up there, they weren't ready for the losses we faced back then. It made the old Whiphid shudder as he reached the room by the hallways end, he remembered the clone soldiers whom he shared a bond much like the Black Sheep and how they almost reached victory against the Separatists.

But then, they became only names on graves as the Empire put them in the grinder.

"No, don't remember what happened to your old platoon, not today," Pudge stifled his somberness, becoming the same crotchety, stoic old chef he was always. "Let's see what's going on in the bar today, maybe they might allow me to smoke some marcan in there."

Stepping into the lounge, the Whiphid noticed some lone woman resting in the corner of the resting area, he didn't recognize her from the amount of staff and crew he catered normally. Well it's not bad to get to know the others on this shape, I'll see if they're friendly to chatting with a furball like moi. Taking a few strides towards the corner, the Whiphid kept back the somber thoughts of before and kept his rather, relaxed stoic demeanor forward.

"Room for another Black Sheep in that corner?" Pudge queried towards the young woman.

TAG: @Mistress_Renata , (Anyone else.....)

 

IC: Baniss Vermillion
Intrepid

While Baniss was not actually chained to his desk, the tasks they assigned him virtually tied him to the desk. The continuing investigations of Wallings, as more evidence keeps ending up in Baniss's hands, along with that of former XO Teague. With the former investigation, they found that prior to the Intrepid assignment her working group placed bets on who among the commandos would die during the mission. The latter investigation included finding out Teague's motivations and methods. However, it involved trying to prevent it from happening again.

Finally there were quiet, yet persistent rumors of something massive under construction out somewhere in the Outer Rim. While Baniss doubted whether someone would repeat Tarkin's Folly, the amounts rumored certainly made it seem possible.

Baniss sent up requests for Snoop Scoot missions but he had yet heard about his requests. The Bothans were rather touchy about the project.

All of that was to say there was no time to look for the missing Sheep. All he requested was for a confirmation of death or gentle observation if they were alive. Some could be useful Intelligence assets if they were, in fact, alive.

TAG: @Mistress_Renata

 

OOC: A little bit of pre-mission combo fun with Mistress_Renata, here's to starting a excellent series of Sheep storylines.
Pudge & Maxime "Max" Pallas
Pilot's Lounge, "The Watering Hole"
The Intrepid

"Room for another Black Sheep in that corner?"

Max looked up curiously at the Whiphid who had come up to her table. "Sure," she said. "I'm Max Pallas. A-flight. You one of the new guys? Which flight are you assigned to?"

Pudge took a seat next to her on the bar table, his bulky gold fur rubbed against the seats leather and sounded like a bantha rubbing against space rubber. "Name's Pudge, it's a pleasure to meet you Maxine," Pudge said, he adjusted into the seat after some minor difficulty, Whiphids were not graceful sitters. "Flights? Nah, I'm the ship's new cook and scavenger. I was transferred by my superiors on The Sanguinity, apparently your outfit was in need of a new cook after one of your own went inactive a while back; real shame, your chef-droid seemed like a real proper military cook."

He slid out his marcan pipe, there was still some leftover crushed portions of the herb left in the pipe's bowl for another start. "Do you guys mind smokers on the ship? I can go cold if there's any safety concerns."

Max chuckled. "It's Maxime with an Mern, not a Nern, but a lot of people make that mistake. Just call me Max. And you're brave, venturing into pilot country. This is the pilots' lounge. And Foodie..." She sighed. "He wasn't a military cook, he was a real gourmet. I'm not sure how he ended up with us. We've been getting a 'rebooting' message for months, but, no sign so far."

"If he ever reboots or comes back online, I wanna meet this droid," Pudge fumbled in a bandolier pocket for minute until he pulled out a tinder match, he struck the small splinter off his foot and used the small flame to light up his pipe. "I wouldn't call myself brave for venturing out into this country, after serving in the Clone Wars, joining this outfit just reminds me of better times," The Whiphid began to puff some blue smoke rings, watching them float up to the ceiling. "While not a gourmand, I learned a few recipes from various places while aiding clones and bashing droids."

"Anything is an improvement from Imperial standard rations," said Max, looking at him curiously. "We've got a few Clone vets in the squadron. Feral, I think. We just lost Malek, he finally retired. The other one, the troublemaker...he actually fought for the Separatists." She shook her head. "Such a pointless war. The whole thing was started by Palpatine to put himself in office. He was playing both sides."

Pudge nodded in agreement, prior to the Clone Wars or heck even before the whole Galactic Wars started, he never was big on politicians ruling over everything. Sure there were some decent and sometimes, good eggs in the senate but most were just corrupt barvers in need of a smacking. The Whiphid remembered seeing Palpatine grace the holo-net to congratulate all of the soldiers and men fighting the good fight, what a frakking schmuck, the old man was just relishing his power before the wars end. "It's good to hear that there a few clones still fighting for their freedom, my old boys would be proud if they knew this as well. Many, many good clones and worlds sacrificed everything for such a proxy scam," Pudge blew a fat smoke ring into the air. "Started my first day on Agamar and ended on the toxic fields of Felucia; can't even remember how many vets or rookies that joined my unit."

The Whiphid paused for thought before asking the young women a question, since he already spoken too much of his service, those memories were locked away for good reason. "Max, If you don't me asking you this and you can change the subject if ya want but how did you get involved with the Rebels?"

"Oh..." She hesitated. "Well, through my father. He used to work for the Republic, back in the day. He worked with a lot of Jedi, they were friends. And then...when the Emperor took power...he and his colleagues did what they could to try to help them. And hide them. But of course, they were found out. Dad had to go into hiding. When Mom was killed, he was sure they'd found him. So we had to run. Change our names. And he just...tried to stay in touch with his old colleagues, figure out what was happening. Sharing information. And people started actively resisting. Fighting back. So...Dad did what he could to help. Passing information, mostly. Slicing into Imperial systems. That's where I learned it." She took a sip of her tea. "I was in an active cell on Sharan, we were mostly raiding supply lines and harassing them in small ways. Someone got a hold of a bunch of Z-95 headhunters and 2 X-wings, so I learned how to fly. And after Yavin, the Rebellion needed pilots. They needed people. So we all left Sharan and helped with the retreat on Yavin. Fought our way all the way up to Hoth."

"So it seems like you took after your old man really well, the man sounds like one of the good ones who stood by the Jedi, not many people did once old Palps and its good to hear that other fought back beneath his notice," Pudge replied through smoke. "Guess you got a front row seat after Yavin, heard a few stories about what happened on Hoth; part of me still wonders how the Imps found us in the first place given their own track record," The Whiphid leaned back a little in his seat, flexing his arms a little so they wouldn't get sore. "Did you ever get caught while slicing?"

Max eyed the newcomer. He was asking a lot of questions. After the whole fiasco with Teague, she'd better be careful. At least until she could check out his story. "Not yet, as far as I know," she said. "So...you were a soldier? Or always a cook?"

"No, I was a straight cook and scrounger; high command apparently weren't as trusting of other species than clones," Pudge regaled, he rubbed his chin a bit. "I worked mainly in camp and sometimes would defend the points while the boys went out to fight the good fight, though when out scrapping much morsels on the rocks we landed on, my work was not without danger. Felucia's campaign was the most excitable, my long-rifle claimed the shells of B2's and Gossam Commandos; reckon they're manure now on that floating hotspot. Though truth be told my blackspots on this exciting life is that I never got to say thank you to the Jedi who saved me years ago and never being able to save the villages being burnt asunder on Neimodia after the war."

Pudge paused, he thoughts locked on those particular nightmares that woke him up off drunken floors; the furry vet could recall every single village torn apart by weaponized vehicles or cut down by gunfire. "Maxine" The Whiphid said, his voice getting a bit hoarse from the smoke. "Contrary to what I may appear or say to be, I'm no Imperial spy, hardly stomach the concept of working with those frakkers. However, what I am guilty about is being unable to help those we were supposed to 'defend', stormtroopers put innocents to the sword because of these furry hands."

How did he know I was wondering if he was a spy? The thought went through her head, and she unconsciously touched the perrefoil headband. It was supposed to block her thoughts from Dark Jedi and those with those powers. "They've killed a lot of innocents," she murmured. "You were...directly responsible?"

"No....I was just the poor sap who found out too late," Pudge mumbled, his voice a bit hoarser but it wasn't from his pipe contents. "I was given a view of what my clone unit really did in the front lines after the war, all the xenophobic propaganda posted on every Imp Newsline or in certain holo-net sections showed everything; the boys didn't just kill droids in the name of peace. There was a paper that showed a Neimoidian village set ablaze in picture format, Imps found the stuff to be good morale boost, but to my eyes it was just plain cruelty. Forced my faith out and into the bottle, spent a good of my military trying to drown it out with booze."

He paused once more. "I wish it would be just a dreams but there are some days where it doesn't leave me, its only fighting the good fight with the Alliance that gives me some atonement for fueling the machine that caused all these travesties. Is there a possibility for a guy like me to atone? I'm no Jedi but is it possible to?"

"I hope so," said Max. "We've all done things we're not proud of. All we can do is try to make this a better world and to help people when we can." Her datapad beeped. When she saw the message, she raised her eyebrows. Husk was calling a squadron meeting tomorrow morning. Would they finally learn what High Command had in store for them?

"Thank you then, apologies for going into some sad stuff," Pudge rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's just when discussing the old Republic days, it brings back some rather emotional stuff for an old dog like me," He then extended a hairy hand towards the younger woman, the smoke in his pipe was dimming. "An old soul like me is happy to see the youth's of today fighting back against tyranny once more, it's a pleasure meeting ya Maxine!"

"MaxIME! With an...argh, just call me Max."

Pudge then guffawed for a bit before bidding his newly met friend farewell.

TAG: @Mistress_Renata and ALL SHEEP!

 

OOC: VERY short update, to explain the changes...



Captain Adama Husk and…guests
Black Sheep Ready Room, Intrepid



Captain Adama Husk peered through the doorway of the Black Sheep ready room, doing a mental count. Everyone present and accounted for, apart from Flight Officer Yaren, who was still AWOL. He looked at his guests. “Here we go.”

The pilots looked up as the three human men walked into the room. Husk they knew, but the other two were new faces.

“Right,” said Husk. “I know things have been in flux and you’re all probably wondering where we go from here. Well, we’ll start with the basics. First of all, I want to introduce you to your new squadron leader, Commander Jaxx Bardan.”

The man stepped forward with a big grin. His hair was long, an indeterminate shade between dark blonde and light brown, and rumpled, as was his uniform. His eyes were bright and his grin was genuine.

“Hey!” he said. “Just want to say hi and I’m really excited to be joining the Black Sheep! I’ve heard a lot about you folks and I know when the time comes and the engines are in overdrive and the TIE fighters are screamin’ down like the sound of hell itself, on that day, Palpy is gonna look us in the eye and say, who are you again? And we’re gonna say, ‘Black Sheep at your service, get ready to have your butt kicked, sir!’” Bardan beamed and opened his mouth to speak again but Husk interrupted him.

“I know we’re all glad to have you aboard, Commander. Now, a few tweaks to the squadron, since I know you’ll need some back up… Hollymander will continue on as Squadron Intelligence officer. Vermillion, you’re moving up to my command, as Intrepid Intel officer. The two of you will be working together to gather information to pass back to Alliance command or to help organize missions and find us targets, much as you’ve already been doing.

“Captain Balzroth, you’ll continue as leader of B-flight and in addition to that, you’re officially assigned as Operations officer. You’ll help organize and carry out the missions. Lieutenant Pallas, you’ll carry on as A-flight lead when Commander Bardan is unavailable, and you will be serving as his ADC, helping him with basic squadron administrative duties.” His eyes rested on the confused young woman for a moment, as if he was trying to pass along a deeper message.

Before anyone else could ask questions, he continued, “C-flight is now under the lead of Lieutenant Jocelyn Sunwalker. Yes, you heard that right. Your work helping the squadron understand the capabilities of the those Defenders and formulating a plan to finish off the Death’s Head squadron has earned you the pips.” He walked over to where Joy was sitting and passed her a small pouch with her new insignia. “C-flight is in B-wings, now, as you know. There aren’t a lot of Y-wings left to go around, so command is trying to concentrate them into designated bomber squadrons where they can do the most good.”

“And as long as I’m passing out promotions, would the following pilots come forward? Amber Tehanis and Harley Quinn... Tehanis, looking in our records, it wasn’t clear whether you’d ever formally been promoted?” At the young woman’s shrug, he continued “Well, it’s official now. Here you are. And Quinn, for your role in helping us find our mole, you’ve certainly earned it too. Here you are, Lieutenant!”

There was enthusiastic applause as the two pilots returned to their seats.

“More business…A-flight, we are introducing Lt. Elor Skorne, late of His Imperial Majesty’s Navy. Skorne, know you’re not alone. There are quite a few of us who wore Imperial gray, so don’t feel the need to apologize for anything. Sunwalker, Hollymander, and a lot of the Intrepid crew were all Imperial at one point. That said, the Alliance has a few different ways of doing things, of necessity. You’ll pick it up.

“B-flight, you’ll remember Traer Lin? He’s somehow come back from the dead and wants a second chance. We agreed to give it to him. But…” Husk’s eyes bored into the young man. “This is your LAST chance. One more screw up, and you’ll face another firing squad. Next time, there won’t be enough left to repair, understand? Balzroth, we’re counting on you to help him find his way back.”

“C-flight, you’re getting Captain Ordgwal. I know you don’t want to give up that Recon X-wing, but we need pilots in C-flight. D-flight is now an ad hoc “as needed” operation…Ordgwal and Hollymander will take it on when necessary, in the Recon Xs.”

Husk paused to catch his breath. “Now,” he said, “I know that’s a lot of changes, but if the one thing this squadron is noted for is flexibility. Still…” He took a deep breath, dreading the next words out of his mouth, “…are there any questions before we discuss the new mission?”

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IC: Captain Kayn "Peanut Gallery" Balzroth
Ready Room


"Balzroth, we’re counting on you to help him find his way back.”

"What am I, a fracking miracle worker?" Kayn's mutter was too low for anyone else to hear.


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Elon „Lancer“ Skorne
Black Sheep Ready Room, Intrepid

Elon listened as they handed out promotions as if they were candy. The rebels had a much more loose idea of hierarchy and the Captain glorified it as „flexibility“. Truth was these guys had lost people and were filling the gaps.

The new commander seemed especially loose when it came to introductions. Elon doubted the Emperor micro-managed military matters like Commander Jaxx Bardan imagined it.

He would need to get used to all of this.

This wasn‘t the Empire anymore.

He was assigned to the A-flight, which was the X-Wing element of the squadron obviously. They also had a bomber squadron, which they seemed to refill after the loss of several Y-Wings. Elon was just glad he had never fought against them. None of their dead comrades were his doing.

When he was finally addressed it ripped him from his thoughts. The revelation that there were several imperials aboard was something he hadn‘t considered. A quick glance to the two called Sunwalker and Hollymander was all he allowed himself. Then he acknowledged the words of the Captain with a simple nod. He was used to stay silent in meetings, unless he had something to add. And bring the new guy who didn‘t know any of them, he certainly didn’t have anything to say anyone wanted to hear.

A week ago he had been on the other side. Now he was flying an X-Wing and shooting at Tie-Fighters. The galaxy had a sense of humor. He just realized that joke was on him.

Turning his attention back to the Captain he awaited the briefing on their next mission. His first mission for the rebel alliance.

Tag: @Mistress_Renata, @Everyone else

 

IC: Zero "The Other Peanut Gallery" Maderas
Ready Room

Zero raised his hand in the crowded room of pilots, captains, and other staff members that lounged about; just the regular briefing Maderas got used to back in the regular outfit.

"I have a question one question, captain" Zero said hoarsely, his voice rather ragged from a night bender before. "Can we bomb Palpatine from orbit once we finish this war? I reckon some nice Sheep fireworks would lighten the Imps day."

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IC: Baniss Vermillion
Ready Room

Baniss nodded at Captain Husk when he made it formal that he was replacing Wallings. The job was the same as he was already doing, plus a little more. That was the usual for Intelligence. There were several things that he noted, but whether there was any need for immediate knowledge was something else.

 

​

Captain Adama Husk, General Trey Rossin
Black Sheep Ready Room, Intrepid

Adama Husk was mildly surprised by the lack of reaction from the pilots, but at least Materas didn’t disappoint. He smiled faintly at the young man, waving at him to resume his seat. “I imagine there is a long line of people ahead of you who’d like to take a crack at his Majesty, but if you get lucky and find yourself with a clear shot, you have permission to take it.

“Now, allow me to introduce our guest.” The attention of the Sheep turned to the other man who had been standing quietly by the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest, studying the pilots with bright blue eyes. He wore the insignia of a general on his uniform, but that was all. No battle tabs and no colored piping denoting which branch of service he belonged to. Which could only mean one thing.

“This is General Rossin, of High Command, in the Intelligence division. He’s going to brief you on your next assignment.” Rossin looked at Vermillion and Hollymander, smiling faintly at their reaction, then glanced at Max and Ordwgal. He nodded at Husk, then stepped forward.

“Some of you know me…some others know of me. And the rest of you have no clue who I am. Trey Rossin, High Command Intelligence. And now…so are you.” A ripple went through the room, and he smiled indulgently, waiting for them to settle. “For a unit which was created with the expectation that they would fail at what they attempted and die in the effort, you’ve racked up an astonishing success record. In fact, far from being expendables, there is a new feeling that you are all, in fact, assets. And so, while you are officially on the books as being in the Starfighter Corps, and will be assigned standard starfighter missions, in fact, you are working for me. Seconded to Intelligence, which means that while some of your work will continue to be flight-based, you will also be doing ground based, undercover missions from time to time.

“However, your next mission is indeed flight based. We are planning an operation to take place five days from now, but we need a loud, obnoxious diversion to draw attention from our actual goal. So of course… I naturally thought of you.” He punched up a map of the Galaxy, zooming in. “There is an Imperial spacestation, SPAN Carmaer, located here in the Expansion Region along the Perlemian trade route, in the Slice. It’s mostly used for repairs and transferring supplies and personnel, and it’s a critical communications relay for that sector. Entirely a military outpost, no families or civilian contractors. We want you to attack it.” He cocked his head, looking around the room, reading the responses by their body language.


(Artwork by KaranaK/deviantart)

“You don’t need to completely destroy it, but severely disabling or crippling it would be satisfactory. That area of space is fairly well explored and populated, close enough to the Core to alarm the Empire and to draw attention. You’ll need to jump in, cause a commotion, raise the alert, and jump out when reinforcements show. With any luck, the attack on the space station will focus the attention and resources of the Empire so that our real objective will be overlooked…until it is too late.”

Rossin punched a command on his console, transferring the relevant information about the station to the datapads of the pilots. “Defenses are moderate; some gunnery stations, four squadrons of TIE fighters, plus whatever ships are currently docked…there’s enough traffic around that they can’t imagine an attack that close to the Core. The size is problematic; smaller than the Death Star, of course, but three times the size of a Dreadnought. Still, as I said, we don’t need you to succeed in destroying it, just make enough noise to worry them. The ships in drydock will be undefended, and the station’s shields are minimal. I’ll leave you to formulate your own attack plan, but run it by Husk for approval."

“So…any questions? That don’t involve blasting his Majesty from orbit?”


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IC: Captain Kayn "Loud & Obnoxious" Balzroth
Let's Think This Through


Kayn stood up and spoke out clearly.

"Yes sir, Captain Balzroth, Black Sheep Ops officer. Loud and obnoxious diversions, that we can do. My concern is that if we attack a massive target like this and don't accomplish anything, it will be obvious that we're making a diversionary attack. For this operation to be a credible threat, we should have some kind of worthwhile objective, or else the Imps won't buy what we're trying to sell. My first CO liked to say, don't bring me problems, bring me solutions, so let me offer one. Since this is a supply hub, we could try to nab some loot. If we can hijack a supply shuttle or fuel tanker while we're shooting them up, that would be a lot more believable than just jumping in, shooting, and running away."

He began to sit down, then popped up again.

"Or, this just occurred to me, since this is also a comms relay, we could bring along a Recon-X to scan their transmissions, make it look like an ELINT gathering raid. Sir."


* ELINT: ELectronic INTelligence

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IC: General Trey Rossin
Hmmm...

Rossin stroked his chin as he considered Balzroth's suggestion. "You'd need a boarding party," he said. "Fuel freighters don't have the capacity for piggy-backing your fighter, and you can't abandon it to switch ships." He glanced at Husk. "I suppose we could bring in some Marines, but..." He looked back at the team. "We could send Hollymander in one of the Recon-X, although blowing the comms array is more what I had in mind. Along with the repair docks. But the Rebellion can always use fuel. Or anything else, for that matter. If you could grab some fuel canisters on the way out --we'd have to find something with a tractor beam to snatch them--well, you've got three days to come up with a plan for that, which we can execute in 5. Anyone else?"

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Elon „Lancer“ Skorne
Black Sheep Ready Room, Intrepid

“Actually the size might be a good thing.” Elon said and cleared his throat. “That thing has neither the shields nor armor of a Death Star and it is in orbit, which means it is kept there by some sort of engine.” He shrugged. “Otherwise anything with this mass would be inevitably drawn to the planet by the gravity. We have enough ships with proton torpedoes. Even a short disruption would be enough probably. If we take out the engines it falls and if we fail … then at least they would think we tried to destroy it and the main objective wouldn’t be affected. If we have any more detailed idea about the stations set-up, we could give it a shot.” Elon said and didn’t look at anyone specifically.

Tag: @Mistress_Renata, @Everyone else

 

IC: Baniss Vermillion
Ready Room

Baniss considered everything, "I think there may be two plans, one if we have cargo capacity, and one if we don't. Either way destroying the comm station would be desirable, just to see how the Empire changes their comm network, which could be useful for future operations. An attempt on the engines could be made, but I imagine that would be heavily shielded or armored." A thought occurred to Baniss, "Do we have information on potential reinforcements?"

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IC: Jocelyn "Joy" Sunwalker
Location: Ready Room

The promotion had been a surprise, but a welcome one. It seems the Rebels were starting to accept her as she was starting to feel more at home with them. A strange, warm feeling, one that she had never felt in the Empire (aside when she had been with her family and Anais).

A lot had changed, the Squadron was not as it used to be, but that was to be expected. Even Seppie somehow returned. She also eyed the new member, Skorne, a fellow ex-Imperial. She took a note to have a word with him, see if he needed some help with acclimatizing himself to this new reality. It can be quite the culture shock.

She smirked at Feral for being his boss, now she could order him around officially, not only in private.

And now they were getting their next mission. She wanted to suggest using her ex-Imperial astromech to access the systems, but she knew it was a long shot. It had not gotten the latest updates and access, so it would not be very useful.

Hopefully she would not crash the B-wing in her first combat mission in it.

TAG: @Mistress_Renata , Anyone

 

IC: Zero "The Mouth" Maderas
Intrepid, Ready Room

Zero pondered the options for a bit before giving his view on the matter. "I think we should have some explosives just in case the Imps have some surprises coming in, you can't be too careful with Palpatines legions for they can be crafty when pushed. In case of anything, I think we should give the stations skeleton crews a real firework show before the distraction is complete; just enough so we can get the job done without destroying it fully" Zero leaned back in his chair, grinning a bit from ear to ear. "But if it's just TIE's or plain fighters, we can shred them good."

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