Before - Legends Silver Swarms of Ships *RELOADED* [Dear Diary 2014] Diary Complete!

Intense update

 

Pilot log, entry thirty, 3958.5.13 BBY

They say that one of the worst things a pilot can go through is to be stuck on the ground, under the guns of the enemy, unable to take to the skies without being knocked right back down to the ground. Every milligram of that statement is one hundred and ten percent true, and for the span of eleven hours yesterday, the combined forces of the 11th, 18th and 23rd Marine fighter squadrons felt it as the Sith seized local air superiority. Worse, they used this opportunity to bring anti-fighter laser batteries to within ten kilometers of the outer perimeter of our beachhead, which would mean that even if reinforcements were able to clear a path, they and we would be hemmed in and prevented from contributing to any groundside operations.

Knowing how urgent this situation was, Captain Reyolé herself led a team from Marine Force Recon beyond the frontier, where they succeeded in demolishing many of the gun emplacements. Guided by their scouting efforts, surface artillery batteries on our side of the wire pounded the rest into rubble, so that as the Navy made a push to reassert itself in the area, we took off and caught their Quadranium cloud in the bottom half of a pincer movement. Once more their ships fell to our guns in droves; as if in celebration of regaining the initiative, we burst forth from the forward operating base and strafed a convoy of Sith ground troops and armored fighting vehicles who, apparently, had been sent to follow up on their navy's achievement and hit our forces hard. That counterattack was blunted in its tracks, and I'm proud to say that once again I led a whole flight into battle and managed to coax them back out alive.

Upon returning to our lines and touching down, however, we learned that it had been part of a larger attempt by the Sith commander to overwhelm the landing zone and beachhead. It had been one hell of a fight, with Captain Reyolé once again demonstrating the sheer gall that I saw her display on Mon Gazza. I don't know how she—or anybody in her position—does it, rallying troops to your banner while at the same time knowing how to fight on the ground. But I suppose that's why they pay me to fly.

We're not out of the woods yet, however, because Intelligence is saying that there are enough Sith troopers and support vehicles on Lannik to carry out an attack three times as large as the sum total of what hit us—including the mechanized component we succeeded in ambushing. Why are they holding back? Why not consolidate what forces they have and overwhelm us by sheer numbers in a full-scale assault that we couldn't possibly hope to meet, let alone beat? It makes no sense! The only other alternative that I can think of, which frightens me more than having to face down a hundred enemy squadrons, is that they're just here to tie down Republic forces in preparation for an invasion elsewhere.

I told Commander Juyode this after this evening's combat aerospace patrol—the third today alone—and after he congratulated me on my insight, he said "Every officer from commander on up already knows this," followed up by "there's nothing we can do about it anyway. We have to fight the enemy in front of us, and let the top brass figure out who might be coming at us from the shadows with a vibroblade."

This did little to ease my mood, but after thinking about it for a while, it at least cleared up the sense of nausea that had started to build in my gut. For now it's back to my Aurek for a meal of combat rations and a power nap.

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@Thumper09 @windu4 @Nyota's Heart @earlybird-obi-wan @TrakNar @Diary_Challenge_Sock

 

They sure are in trouble with the Sith planning something Sithly

 

That is a daunting thought, that they're being held in place while a bigger invasion occurs elsewhere. Even though they might think or suspect it, they can't in good conscience up and leave before things are stabilized.

 

Nyota's Heart Even if the Republic forces committed to the liberation of Lannik were desperately needed elsewhere, even if Coruscant itself was under siege, they wouldn't be able to withdraw. Retreating before a battle is decided one way or another is tantamount to suicide, unless there was already an organized plan of action for such a necessity; even then, such contingency plans are dicey propositions at best. As Chak rightly states, you can either stand and fight and possibly die, or run away and guarantee that result.

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-one, 3958.5.18 BBY

The fighting on Lannik has been surprisingly sporadic for the last few days, with the Sith conducting only a few half-hearted probes against our positions in orbit and on the surface.

That all changed this morning as, under a thick mist rolling in from the northeast of our position, the 3rd and 7th Marine Battalions led an all-out attack aimed at breaking out of the beachhead and advancing on the nearest enemy stronghold. This was timed to coincide with the arrival of reinforcements under the command of Admiral Kedlis Hetton, whose Stalwart Defender was to be the flagship for half the Third Fleet—including the 8th and 12th Fighter Wings and yet more Army troops. With Commander Piccolé leading the way, us Marine pilots plowed the road for the infantry, popping pillboxes, demolishing lookout stations, and knocking out communications nodes before the Sith commander could realize that we were doing what, I can only imagine, he or she least expected.

Our part of the operation was the first to kick off, and boy did we stick the boot in hard. The skies were virtually empty as the first torpedoes impacted their targets, and barely any return fire came up to greet us as we pressed on toward a fortified series of hills that made up the redoubt that was the objective for this counteroffensive. As we strafed and bombed what targets we could in order to give the infantry and Marines a better chance, a huge fleet battle erupted several thousand kilometers above us when the promised ships arrived. Even as we suppressed the Sith defenses, we could see through the transparisteel of our cockpits the pinpricks of light and tiny flashes of explosions that marked the action far overhead. As the morning dragged on, we rotated coverage of the ground war by flights; at any one time two would be heading back to the forward operating base to refuel and rearm, two would be returning to keep up the pressure, while the rest did the actual suppression.

By mid afternoon the Marines had succeeded in breaching the complex with the Army in support, and as the fighting descended into close-quarters combat, we were recalled to the FOB to prepare to assist the continuing efforts of Admirals Hetton and Jelliko in driving back the Sith. As we took off once more and struck for space, I began to feel that friendly presence in my mind, alien yet supportive as it spoke to me in my own voice, the now-familiar sensation of Battle Meditation. Gripping my controls with renewed purpose, I attempted to take command of the remnants of the 18th Marine Squadron when its nominal leader, a senior lieutenant I had met only once, got vaped by a stray blast from an enemy capital ship's turbolasers. "Shabu Three to remaining Honors, fall in on my wing and ready torpedoes!"

Perhaps as much to my own surprise as theirs or Commander Juyode's, they did so without hesitation. "Honor Seven copies, Shabu Three. We're at your disposal."

And that was that.

With their assistance, I and Ensigns Pia and Beri succeeded in demolishing three Sith corvettes and severely damaging an Interdictor-class cruiser in addition to vaping three dozen or so enemy fighters. Enveloped in the effects of Bastila Shan's and the Force's guidance, we lost track of time as the battle, which had been planned as a covering action to support the landing of more soldiers, turned into a full-scale push to throw the enemy fleet out of the system. Eventually what remained of the Sith forces retreated toward the fourth planet, which was on the other side of the system's star from Lannik, and we were called back to cover the beachhead in case enemy ground troops decided to mount a counterattack of their own. Thankfully for us, this threat didn't materialize so that as I write this, I can for the first time breathe a sigh of relief.

There is, to be certain, yet more fighting to be done before the planet and its inhabitants can be free once more. However, we have succeeded in seizing the initiative and, while the Sith may yet bring in more reinforcements to continue the fight, they'll have to make a stupendous commitment in men and materiel to take away the advantage we now enjoy. As for myself, I'm going to secure some chow and get a good night's sleep.

On a real bed, for once.

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@Thumper09 @windu4 @Nyota's Heart @earlybird-obi-wan @TrakNar

 

A tangible and satisfying victory Sleeping in a real bed, a well-earned reward LOL Hopefully he can get in touch with Tei'shala also?

 

great action and I hope he will get his well deserved rest

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-two, 3958.5.23 BBY

The morning after my temporary and impromptu command of the 18th Marines in the battle over Lannik, I was presented with the option to continue to take responsibility for the shattered squadron by Commander Piccolé. I agreed, and as a reward I was given a field promotion to junior lieutenant plus the chance to pick someone else from the 23rd to help run things. That choice was an easy one, and Ensign Pia was made my ad hoc XO; for the time being I would be Honor Leader, and she would be Honor Five. There's no telling how long this assignment will last, but for the past four days things have been getting along well enough. While Padawan Shan's continued presence in the system and her use of Battle Meditation is certainly lending me a measure of confidence and focus, I cannot help but wonder if it's simply the Force drawing upon what is already within me, that I was always destined to become a leader.

But right now, that's all academic; as Commander Juyode rightly stated some time ago, when in the cockpit, if I don't focus on the here and now, I'm just vape-bait.

The last few days have borne witness to a steady operational tempo: dawn patrols over the beachhead where we scan for attempted enemy incursions and blast any targets of opportunity; late-morning runs to the front to strafe and occasionally torpedo enemy strongpoints; afternoon strikes deep into enemy territory that can get pretty hairy but can provide devastatingly effective results. All this would be capped off by another patrol, after which we'd land and take a hearty meal before retiring for the night. The only reason our schedule is so predictable, relatively speaking, is because of the drastically-reduced force involved. We're too weak to participate in larger actions, for example when the 3rd Marine Battalion liberated Linnaka City two days ago, or when a replenished Sith armada attempted a counterattack against our forces in orbit. Both fights were quite intense, but the enemy got the worst end of the stick by far. The benefit for us is that while their attention is focused on the big picture, half a dozen Aureks, operating semi-autonomously, can easily escape notice and act as a sort of battlefield laser scalpel.

It's a role I've been content with. The other surviving Honors seem to respect me, either for my cool head or tactical acumen, I can't be sure, and our missions have played small but effective roles. Prior to Captain Reyolé's assault on Linnaka City, we overflew the settlement and, after taking detailed scans of the terrain, vaped a communications relay before its defensive laser cannons even realized there was a threat. Ensign Pia and I circled round and popped them off as the others headed back, catching them up in time to ambush an enemy patrol of six Interceptors. After that battle, I had received a brief note of thanks from the battalion CO, which I had passed on to Pia and the rest of the Honors, noting that it was their determination to carry on after having endured such hardship that made it all possible.

As I write this entry, we've concluded another dawn patrol, this time over an area of countryside that looks to be a promising place to establish another forward operating base and field spaceport. We didn't detect any enemy activity in the area, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Therefore, two companies of the 7th Marine Battalion area already packing into their Jarhead-class transports, ready to drop in unannounced, blast the hell out of anything that moves, then blast that which does not move to begin the process of setting up a defensive position. If all goes well, the Republic will be able to land additional troops into an excellent position from which to conduct strikes at other Sith-occupied areas of Lannik.

What was once a desperate holding action against a vastly superior foe has evolved into a hotly-contested, but manageable, long-term campaign of liberation. And I couldn't be more proud of the role my comrades are playing.


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@Thumper09 @windu4 @Nyota's Heart @earlybird-obi-wan @TrakNar

 

I'm glad you're enjoying the diary, Findswoman, and you're absolutely right; a metric ton of reading and research has gone into my writing style and subject!

As for tweaking the font/style...I'll think about it, maybe run some experiments. If I do, I'll have to change every previous entry as well, because...well...it would look silly to just (apparently) randomly change everything at once!

 

Great to see him promoted. He sure can manage things

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-three, 3958.5.28 BBY

Republic forces on the ground are continuing to advance, and in the last five days we have been able to expand the reach of our hold on Lannik by over twelve hundred percent of the original beachhead, transforming the initial FOB into a fortified main base of operations in addition to setting up several additional forward positions—not including the one the 7th Marine Battalion began to set up last week after our scouting run. Under my leadership the remnants of the 18th are still performing admirably, though I would not presume that this is due solely or even partly to my abilities as a commander. Our ordered schedule has seen a few variations here and there out of operational necessity—two days ago several companies of Sith troopers with armor support attempted a counterattack against one of the new forward bases. We were diverted from our patrol to help deal with the threat, as the defenses there had not yet been completed.

Well, they got their chance all right, as we strafed the enemy column mercilessly as the Marines and Army troops on the ground held them down with suppressing fire.

The situation in orbit has remained steady, with the Sith continuing to mass their armada on the other side of Lannik's star. However, since they haven't sent anything more menacing than a pair of Interdictor-class cruisers at our fleet, Commanders Juyode and Piccolé don't think there's going to be a climactic last stand unless we manage to force them into it. Even with my limited experience with capital ship and fleet operations, I know that such a situation can be very difficult to manufacture; if we make a push to clear the enemy fully from the system, they could either retreat into hyperspace, or simply make an end run on our advance and threaten our forces on the surface. These factors make such an enterprise distinctly unappealing, so I have refrained from bringing them up to anyone else.

Due to a continuing stream of incoming reinforcements, we now have parity with the Sith both in ships and soldiers, and I can't help but feel that the enemy commander knows it. This isn't helping my outlook at all, as I've had the feeling before that the Sith are just here to keep Republic forces in check, to prevent us from reacting to developments elsewhere. It's a big galaxy, and the Republic is strung out as it is; we can't afford to let the Sith have this world, but we can't exactly afford to hold it either, especially if a crisis flares up elsewhere. From what I've read and what has been discussed in my presence, it's obvious that Revan is a sneaky little Sithspawn. He proved this during the war with the Mandalorians on many occasions, and thus far he has shown no signs of losing his ability to keep his opponents off-balance.

Well, that's enough introspection about events over which I have no control. It's time to prepare my people for the next flight. The 7th Marines are preparing to lead a march on the capital, and we're going to take a quick look at the route of advance to see if the Sith have set up any surprises. I've asked for and received a fire support uplink from a pair of Hammerhead-class cruisers in low orbit, so that our depleted force won't have to take any unnecessary risks in demolishing enemy gun emplacements or defensive works. A full squadron of seasoned veterans who have experience working together could probably handle it, but the 18th Marines are far from that at this time.

I've never seen a planetary bombardment in person before...


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Thumper09 windu4 Nyota's Heart earlybird-obi-wan TrakNar Findswoman

 

excellent observations. And Revan a Sithspawn, he sure is right at this time

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-four, 3958.6.1 BBY

As I write this, the remnants of the 18th Marine Starfighter Squadron are being shipped back to the rear—along with myself and Ensign Pia.

We're Honors now, and while for the time being I still hold the designation of Honor Leader, I have no doubt that will change when we arrive at our destination. It's obvious why this is being done, of course; we're no longer needed on Lannik, and the 18th desperately needs to leave the combat zone in order to replenish its roster of pilots and properly integrate them into the unit. When I received the transfer order, a curious sensation gripped my heart; regret at having to leave my friends and comrades behind was certainly a big part, but there was another sentiment there, a sense of responsibility that I had experienced, but never taken the time to truly understand. I had grown to care for the survivors of this shattered unit, though it's barely been two weeks—if that—since I took temporary command. On top of that, there's a sense of leaving before the job is done, which most sentient beings ought to be able to appreciate.

I suppose I should have seen something like this coming. That reconnaissance patrol toward the capital turned out to be a total milk run; we found a number of defensive works, but they were empty. As we continued to press on toward the city itself, a company of Marines was dispatched to take them over; when we arrived, it was to witness a civil uprising that seemed to go unchallenged by the Sith occupation force. It wasn't until that evening that we learned the Sith had abandoned the city to its increasingly restive inhabitants, which only served to tighten the knots in my gut. The next couple of days saw similar activity—or lack thereof—and then boom, out of nowhere I'm being sent away. I barely had time to say goodbye to Commander Juyode, and to express to him my thanks for his help in learning how to be a real fighter pilot.

This must sound so selfish, but I'd rather be back there, facing the enemy with my comrades on my wing, rather than having to nursemaid a wounded squadron. My brain knows that I should be grateful to be given not only a break from the fighting, but a vital job to do in the meantime. But that doesn't make it any easier on my heart. I'll do what needs to be done, of course, but I'll be keeping my eyes and ears open as well. The Sith threat isn't going anywhere, even if the Lannik operation has moved to the mopping-up phase (or so I assume, because no one was giving anything away). Ensign Pia agrees with me, both in regards to the overall situation and how she feels about leaving the 23rd.

We're due to arrive in the Corulag system in a couple of days, though I'm unsure what will happen when we get there. In addition to the Marine Corps Recruit Training Depot on Corulag itself, I hear there's also a starfighter training base on one of the system's moons. Five will get you ten that's where we'll be stationed for the foreseeable future. The first thing I'll do when we get where we're going is post some messages, the Force knows I've got time to compose some very interesting correspondence.


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Thumper09 windu4 Nyota's Heart earlybird-obi-wan TrakNar Findswoman

 

Oh, wow, that's hard but necessary, leaving your comrades and a job that feels incomplete. Juyode definitely was a super commander to learn from, and I am sure those lessons will continue to be helpful.

 

Sad for him to leave the battle but I hope he will have some nice time on Corulag

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-five, 3958.6.7 BBY

For four months now have I kept this log, documenting my life as a starfighter pilot in wartime. Over the last couple of days I've been reviewing the various entries, and it surprises and amuses me to think of how naive I was upon earning my commission and posting to an active squadron. Since then I have proven myself more than capable of meeting the challenges of combat and leadership, even demonstrating the capacity to keep a cool head when things are at their apparent worst. Well, now there's a new challenge ahead of me, that of educating newly-graduated pilots in the realities of interstellar warfare. But first, a short recap of the last week.

We arrived at the Corulag depot on schedule, where we were temporarily billeted in a vacant recruits' barracks before arrangements at the lunar training base, which was located on the largest moon orbiting the gas giant Garulag, could be made for us. The next day we were informed that there was to be an award ceremony on the parade ground that afternoon, so we all turned up in our dress reds and assumed formation along with a number of other units; these included beings from a couple of other squadrons as well as Marines from various battalions, including the Third and Seventh. All told there were about a hundred and fifty of us, waiting patiently for whoever was conducting the operation to mount the podium. It turned out to be an older Rodian captain named Sookanado, who was joined by a number of officers including the Commandant, a Bothan admiral I knew was called Voskel Dun'vei. The event itself was rather somber, or perhaps I just wasn't feeling particularly cheerful, as various officers, NCOs and enlisted Marines were called up to receive medals.

As "Qarv, Erwin" was called up to receive the Silver Comet for his actions on Mon Gazza, my mind had begun to wander toward what kind of facility we would be working in; the Coruscant training base was based on the planet itself amidst a large factory district, an urban landscape in which we could practice tight maneuvering without endangering the civil populace. It was therefore with much chagrin that I was jolted out of my reverie when "Ravartin, Chak" was announced. Ensign Pia, who was standing behind me, had had to poke me in the small of my back to remind me that this was, in fact, my name and that I should go up to the podium. My cheeks were as crimson as my uniform as the Rodian officer, his black faceted eyes glinting in the watery sunlight, nodded as he presented me with the Bronze Comet and the Distinguished Service Order. The former was apparently for having proven myself useful after having been shot down over Mon Gazza, while the latter was for my leadership of the 18th during the now-concluded battle for Lannik, and both were in addition to an official recognition of my recent promotion to junior lieutenant.

Newly-promoted Lieutenant Pia, who had also been awarded the Bronze Comet, insisted that I accompany the rest of the honorees to an unofficial post-ceremony bash at one of the larger cantinas despite my unexpected desire for solitude. Despite some misgivings, I went along with the ride and ended up quite enjoying myself; this was helped by the fact that by the unofficial rules of soldierly celebration, our ranks had been left at the door. Later that night I found myself engaged in a drinking contest with a Rodian female in senior lieutenant's bars, and though I was soundly whipped in that regard, we had a lot of fun rehashing our respective experiences. After I told her of my temporary status as a ground-pounder, she spoke of having trained under an infamous insectoid gunnery sergeant, and we both saluted the Republic, the Corps, the Commandant, and even the void-brained space jockeys in the Navy with shots of Corellian brandy. Ettiau jokingly teased the pair of us, suggesting that Reeka and I should get a room while one was still available. We exchanged brief looks and immediately all three of us burst into raucous laughter that swiftly spread.

The next couple of days were spent on liberty, and I quickly found out that Corulag boasted a lively and highly-competitive swoop-racing circuit of its own. Resolving to do the Corps proud while we were away from the combat zone, I and a quartet of other pilots with previous swooping experience began to organize ourselves into a team. Our petition to form up for an exhibition series with the Corulus Systems Swoop League was put together and submitted to the chain of command, with Captain Sookanado appointing me its provisional captain, a post that would become official if the request was approved. He assured me that one of his own subordinates would take care of acquiring swoop bikes and liaising with the civilians, and that all we needed to worry about was our own training in starfighters.

We finally moved into our training facility yesterday. Upon our arrival we were informed by the master chief petty officer in charge of the facility's upkeep that the "boring dung-work" would be taken care of by the Navy, and that we had at least a week before the new graduates would arrive, which he referred to as "grasshoppers" in an unsubtle poke at their inevitable inexperience. I wondered aloud who the base's commanding officer was and how I could get in touch with him, to which he remarked "You'll know it when she gets here."

Things are going to be interesting around here for a while, I reckon. At least the facility itself is fundamentally similar to where I had undergone my own training.


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Thumper09 windu4 Nyota's Heart TrakNar earlybird-obi-wan Findswoman

 

Nice to see him enjoying the training and rewards

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-six, 3958.6.14 BBY

Our replacement pilots arrived three days ago, along with the 18th Marine Starfighter Squadron's new commanding officer.

Lieutenant Commander Hellinae Rall arrived along with four other replacements, giving the squadron a total strength of twelve pilots and thus back up to full operational capacity. In theory, anyway, as the commander was the only one among them with combat experience; the rest were fresh from flight school. Having flown with the 5th during the Mandalorian Wars, the Gotal female told us in our first briefing that she had participated in one of the earliest encounters with the invaders over some backrocket world called Bad Alshir, going on to describe how such a push was anticipated and planned for, as well as how the incident played out. Just from that introduction she seemed to be a competent leader and tactician, though I was reserving any conclusions for when we would fly together. To my and Ettiau's dismay, Commander Rall didn't see it as necessary to start engaging in training maneuvers right away, preferring to spend the time since then arranging the roster according to her preferences.

As expected, I am no longer Honor Leader, that designation now belongs to Commander Rall, who has not yet consented to pick an executive officer. I can only imagine that she is waiting to see how we all do before choosing her XO. In any case, both myself and Ettiau were given flight leader assignments; I would head up Two Flight as Honor Five while Lieutenant Pia would take the callsign Honor Nine and lead Three Flight. I'm curious now as to precisely when the Wroonian stopped being just a rank and a surname in my mind, and why I have begun to think of her as a friend. She's not exactly the most charming woman in the service, but she's aggressive and clever, and doesn't hold grudges—a good thing too, considering how I had had to rein in her attitude when she first joined the 23rd. Looking back, I can see that she's a capable pilot, but I wonder at her ability to lead effectively; there are other surviving Honors with just as much if not more combat experience who could have taken the role she now occupies. Perhaps Commander Rall sees something in her, or wants to give her a chance. Well, that's her prerogative, and that's why we're back behind the lines deciding these things and not taking leaps of faith on the eve of battle.

This training base, being a joint venture between the Navy and the Marine Corps (we're not the only squadron here), contains a number of live-fire ranges where starfighters can practice combat maneuvers in relative safety. Their geography ranges from flat, airless plains for conducting ship-to-ship combat, to deep canyons intersecting heavily-cratered surfaces for conducting tight maneuvers. One range in particular seems perfect for our new pilots to learn the scatter formation tactic. We met the base's commanding officer yesterday, and as the Navy chief had predicted, it was apparent at once when the Twi'lek arrived. Captain Leela Toronga walked with a limp, and a patch covered her left eye, but she seemed to radiate menace with every movement. Her pale pink lekku seemed to be permanently knotted around her throat, and she addressed the ensigns as "nuggets" and didn't have much time for the junior lieutenants, either. Every operation had to go through her before a single Aurek or Chella left the hangar bay, and she made frequent inspections of the enlisted, NCO and junior officers' barracks.

Some of us have taken to referring to her as the Evil Eyeball, while the petty officers already have a plethora of less charitable names for the scarred veteran. Apparently she had been rather badly mauled in a bad ejection back during the Great Sith War, which certainly explained her bad attitude.

Well, to sum up this entry in a pithy, headline holonews sort of way, "glimpses of possibilities buried beneath bureaucratic bulldung and bantha barf."


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Thumper09 windu4 Nyota's Heart earlybird-obi-wan TrakNar Findswoman Diary_Challenge_Sock

 

He sure is in for some burocratic mayhem. Love his muttering

 

One of the establishing facts of the Republic Marines is that humans, while the most well-represented species within this (fanon) branch of the Republic Military, are actually in the minority overall. Soldiers and officers are paid better, so there's more incentive for those from outlier worlds to join, The training for officer and enlisted alike is tough and highly-selective, favoring species with better endurance, creativity and intelligence, individuality, and disciplined aggressiveness. I've always tried to convey that sense in the stories that I write about Marines and their experiences; even if the "main" protagonists tend to be human, they're probably going to be the only human or just one of two or three on the "Heroes" section of the Dramatis Personae card.

 

Pilot log, entry thirty-seven, 3958.6.26 BBY

I'm not sure what Commander Rall is playing at, but we still have yet to take our Aureks out of the hangar bay. Instead we've been running missions on the 2D simulators, ranging from old stuff from our flight school days to recreations of recent battles against the Sith, as well as speculative simulations devised by the commander herself. Almost as though I had been expecting it, the first such exercise saw the pilots of the 18th going through The Malachor Trap, a sim that had kicked my butt in training, but had had an exhilarating effect on me this time around. It felt good to get a bit of revenge on some pretend Mandalorians, even if I was sweating by the end of it. Having now experienced combat firsthand, going through this old sim lends a new perspective to the events of that dark day, and certainly a new appreciation for going through such a pitched battle.

But the most interesting sims were the ones dreamed up by our CO, in which we took on enemy forces ranging from well-entrenched ground forces to an enemy capital ship and its escorts. Predictably, the rookies would be the first to get vaped in a sim, but as time went by they began to get the hang of our flying style (as did I and Ettiau), and things started to improve.

The galactic situation has also been relatively quiet, with Lannik having been declared "secure" and High Command taking the time to consolidate its forces.

That all changed yesterday, when the news broke of a multi-pronged assault by the Sith on key worlds across the Republic. Polanhi, Chazwa, Commenor, Devaron, Denon, Foless, Rhommamool, and Sullust are all under seige by huge enemy armadas, tying up resources that could otherwise be used to carry the war to the Sith. And in the case of the Sullustan homeworld, potentially cutting off a major source of new ships and starfighters. It seems that my fears of a larger plan in the works were justified, and upon hearing the news I told Commander Rall this. She didn't seem to have much to say on the subject; where Commander Juyode would have poked fun at a nonexistent eagerness for promotion, the Gotal simply acknowledged my remark with a nodding grunt and began briefing us on the sim for that day, which turned out to be a test of how well we would do if our training base were to come under attack.

While we managed to acquit ourselves fairly well in that mock battle, there remains room for improvement, improvement that I'm convinced will not come unless and until we are permitted to take to the void in our starfighters. Sims can't teach you everything, not by a long shot, and while they can be useful for presenting a pilot with possibilities, they cannot substitute for actual stick time. In fact, when I'm finished here, I'm going to go and plead this case to Commander Rall personally.

She's either going to agree with me, or else I might end up demoted, but that's a price I'm willing to pay.


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Thumper09 windu4 Nyota's Heart earlybird-obi-wan TrakNar Findswoman