Our Fallen Comrades (Shadow Squadron)

[Bette Davis]

As far as Flight Commander Bette Davis was concerned, if she ever saw that Endor moon again, it would be too soon.

The Empire had lost a lot of good men that day. A lot of good pilots. After the battlefield recovery had begun, Shadow Squadron had been recalled to the Termagant, and the horrors of the day had finally started to sink in. Bette had had nightmares every night of the events that had decimated her squadron. Every night for five days.

Now that the Termagant was in high orbit over Imperial Center, Shadow Squadron had been given a week of shore leave. Shooter adjusted her white tank top, and bent over to lace up her boots.

"Are you coming?" Chambers poked her head into the barracks, locating Davis sitting on her rack. "You're going to miss the shuttle. Sir."

"Be right there." Bette straightened, grabbed her bag, and walked to the shuttle bay. She was going to be spending some quality with with Val, away from the eyes of their superiors, and that alone was cause for celebration.

The entire squadron was going to be meeting at The Lucky Shrike Bar in the Coco District for drinks. To honor their fallen comrades.

[Val Torre]

Five days ago, Val had removed his flight helmet, shook the sweat out of his hair on the hanger bay floor and politely asked the rest of the squadron not to bother him until they had arrived at Coruscant. The days which followed were spent in quiet solitude; sleeping, reading, thinking, walking; he was thankful the Termagant was such a large ship. He could get lost in it's maze of rooms and corridoors and service ducts but he could not escape the collective atmosphere which sat heavily on the shoulders of every man and woman onboard. The silence was everywhere but not a moment's peace to be found.

Now he stood in a much smaller hanger with a large holdall at his feet and a rucksack hanging loosely off a shoulder. He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, his hefty black boots clanging against the floor. Tucked into his boots were his favourite baggy combats, they matched his grey jacket which was beginning to look small on him. Along with his black t-shirt, this was his standard attire which he wore everytime he left the Termagant. He shooks his legs a little and loosened his shoulders as he stared through the clear forcefield to the city planet below. For the first time, he felt relaxed and to celebrate he took a swig from the silver flask tucked away in his jacket. Then a stormtrooper at the top of a shuttle boarding ramp caught his attention.

"You can begin boarding now, Commander Torre."

[Silus Xilarian]

Five days gave a lot of time for reflection, especially when they were spent in the brig of an Imperial Star Destroyer. After the battle, a lot of things changed. If Silus hadn't ordered his squadron away from the Executor, they probably would have been annihilated when it blew. And in the same respect, if his superiors hadnt tried to order him back, he would have picked off that Correllian Frieghter before it got anywhere near the Death Star. He may have lost his men, but it wasnt to an explosion, which made sleeping at night much much easier.

He had only been allowed out of the brig for a brief time, to meet with Tal Kellison, his new commanding officer, who informed him of his new assignment.

At this point, the rest of the Shadows didnt know who their new leader was, and Silus hadnt exactly been in the position to tell them, being imprisoned and all. Of course, Kellison could have told them, but they probably would have spit on him, and he certainly didnt enjoy being spit on.

After five days, the crew was scheduled for a shore leave, and Kellison agreed to let Silus out of the brig, on the condition that Silus not misbehave. Needless to say, they were probably keeping the cell nice and spiffy for him.

After finding his way to his bunk, Silus went through the his bags that had been delivered. Finding a suitable set of casual clothing he made his way to the shuttle bay. He arrived just as the shuttle was about to begin boarding, and noncerimoniously shouldered his way through the crowd. As he got to the ramp, he glanced over, and caught eyes with a certain flight commander of a certain squadron he now belonged to. A grin cracked at the side of his mouth as he turned, disappearing into the shuttle.

[Zachariah Jak'el]

The horror of the battle hadn't sunk in intill after Zachariah had returned to the Termagant. The news of his uncle's death onboard the deathstar only made things worse. Zachariah spent those five days in his bunk. The massive death was once thing, but the death of his uncle, practicaly a father to him, was something entirely different. Zachariah managed to pull himself together when he heard news of shore leave on coruscant. He felt that a few drinks with the squadron might cheer him up.

Now he stood in the hangar bay waiting to be shuttled down to the city planet below. He looked himself over again. His favorite pair of black pants didn't fit him as well as it did, do to the ammount of weight he had lost since enrolling, and gave them a baggy look. He had found a clean white shirt and thrown his weathered nerf hide coat over it all.

After a long enough time for him to have doubts about going planet side; the transport was finaly ready for them to board. He picked up the long black bag that had been laying on the ground next ro his feet and moved his heavy booted feet toward the shuttle ramp. He stopped and scratched his stubbled face as he waited for a few others to board so he could.

[Ulrhik Godsend]

Ulrhik didn't believe in post traumatic syndrome. The loss to the Empire had been severe at the Battle of Endor, having seen the wreckage afterwards first hand. But, Godsend hadn't really been attached to any of them other than being a part of the Empire. He felt more sorry for the Empire as a whole than for their each individual loss.

A newly recruited member to Shadow Squadron, Dragon didn't have any attachments to the squads losses either. Some called it cold, dispassionate, whatever. Ulrhik had seen too many "buddies" eat blaster fire to pay any more homage to more. Even in the Academy, mistakes costed lives and then some. Somewhere in his naval training, he regretted the loss of esteemed pilots. But other than that and the Empire, he was at a loss for sorrow.

Standing off to the side from Jackal, Ulrhik slowly followed the small crowd up the ramp. He had just made it into the elite pilot squadron to take a vacation.

[Aliya Vahlshalynn]

Every soldier alive from the battle of Endor dealt with his or her grief differently. There were as many possibilities as there were sentients and it was impossible to list them all, but some reflected quietly to what they had lived through, others showed no emotion, while some exchanged their personal stories together to find some comfort around comrades.

Aliya's was the quiet reflective type and for the five days following Endor, she spent most of her time in the hangar bay repairing her Interceptor personally. When that was finished, she helped the technicians with other TIE's, anything to keep her away from the bunks and listening to war stories as much as possible.

As much as she tried to stop making friends in the squads she served, it always ended up being one or two pilots that got her to break through her cold exterior. She wasn't a trusting sort so that made those pilots special. At least to her they were and now they were dead. The Rebels were able to take out her entire squad in the initial attack, leaving her alone until she was assigned to Shadow Squadron.

Now new orders came in. Not real orders, but when the entire squad was meeting for drinks, that was an order in any pilot's book. Aliya slipped on the brown flight jacket over the white tank top she was wearing, tightened up her laces and straightened out her pants. Shadow Squadron already knew what to expect from one another out in space. Every pilot had one another's back and they did well, but meeting face to face was something you could never predict.

When Aliya arrived at the bay, the shuttle had just arrived and filtered through a few beings before boarding. She snagged a seat right away and strapped in.

[Bette Davis]

Davis and Chambers jogged into the small crowd of people waiting to get onto the shuttle, and Bette shoved her way through to where Val was standing. "Hey you. Haven't seen you for a few days." She punched him jovially in the shoulder, and then stood on her tiptoes to look around. "Don't see Maniac. Is Marr here yet?"

If anyone could put a smile on Razor's face, it would be crazy Tod Marr. They made their way into the shuttle, and Bette found herself strapped in next to a cocky looking flyboy with curly hair.

Across the way she caught sight of a few of the new members of the squadron, and mouthed the words Meet us at the bar! to them. The flagging morale of the group was nothing a bit of shore leave and a lot of alchohol wouldn't cure.

[Jason Dreggs]

Jason stood off to the side detached from the crowd. He wasn't reflecting on the past five days or even the battle of endor he had just missed by few minutes. The star destroyer he had previously been stationed on was part of the reserves unit and had just missed the battle by minutes as it dropped out of hyper space. It could have been his first and last battle if they would have arrived just moments earlier.

He was fresh out of the academy on Balmorra, one of the top pilots in his class. That is why when the clean up crews where being put together he had been bumped up to Shadow squadron. Yet he didn't reflect on any of that but rather he was staring at a picture of his mother who had died years ago. he wondered if he was making her proud or if she was just shedding a tear for him. Shedding tear because against his fathers wishes he became a pilot rather then an intelligence officer. Because he was doing what his father thought was commoners job.

He laughed to himself then, thinking he knew exactly what his mother would say. This would be great opportunity for him to meet friends and possibly a woman to bare her grand children. Yet Jason never held much stock in friends and took to the loners path more often then not. He put the picture away then and started to board.

[Tannis V'larr]

The days since the Battle of Endor had been eventful for Tannis V'larr, formerly leader of Watcher Squadron. After the destruction of his Star Destroyer and the decimation of his squadmates, Watcher Squadron had been disbanded, and its three surviving pilots reassigned. Tannis had traded in his crimson-eye shoulder patch for the rampant blue wings of Shadow Squadron, and once more he was the junior pilot on his squad. Reputation meant nothing now.

He was later to the hangar than he would have liked--his punctuality was usually legendary, but he'd had difficulty securing the items he needed for his shore leave. He never traveled heavy, of course, but many of his possessions had been vaporized with the ISD Timocracy, a few of which were certainly not Imperial standard-issue. He would have to look for replacements while on Coruscant.

Tannis strode through the hangar doors more or less in his off-duty uniform--black slacks, a white, collared shirt, and a black flight jacket. Of course, it didn't really matter what he was wearing. Tannis had always carried himself with military discipline even before he was in the military. A small duffel slung over his shoulders carried a few essentials and a little light reading for the flight.

Finding himself next to Dragon and Jackal, he nodded a greeting to his wingmates. "Colonel Godsend. Colonel Jak'el. I trust you are both well."

[Ulrhik Godsend]

Ulrhik slowly drew out of his shallow philosophies to a familiar voice.

"Lt. V'larr..."

'Professor' was his call sign but Ulrhik saw something in the man that seemed off. Godsend was known for being heartlessly logical at times but this pilot took the cake when it came to the cold facts. Ulrhik found it easier to relate V'larr's deductions to something a droid might say, something just not... human.

Regardless of who Ulrhik liked and didn't like, which wasn't many to the former, Tannis was his wingmate, and that demanded an amount of mutual respect to the position and abilities that enabled him to such a profession. Shadow Squadron was not a trifle joke. So the rumors would say.

"I am well, Lt. Jak'el looks excited as usual, as I'm sure you could tell."

Ulrhik's voice was dry, the sarcasm blatant. The entire squadron had the look as if they had all participated in three campaigns and this was their first leave.

[Aliya Vahlshalynn]

She tapped at her foot, impatient that the lift hadn't moved yet. The darn thing was near capacity but the droid piloting assured its patrons that they would be leaving shortly. Aliya looked around to keep herself amused, recognizing some of the voices around her. The voices were part of her squad but she didn't feel like joining in the conversation. Some of them seemed to be old buddies or at the very least, acquaintances. She'll have her fair share of talking with them later at the bar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she did spy Davis and Torre and caught the tail end of what her Flight Commander mouthed and then the droid pilot came over the loud speaker.

Attention all sentients. Please board the lifts at this time if you have not done so. We will be leaving shortly. For those seated, please make sure your belts are secure. For those standing, make sure to hold onto the leather harness at all times while the lift is in motion. Thank you for your cooperation and enjoy your stay on Coruscant.

Stragglers filed into the lift, some quickly darting into it as the doors began to close. Some people had a knack for waiting until the last minute. Either way, all the Shadows managed to make it whether they were sitting, stuffed between aliens or squished together like packaged fish while standing up.

It took a good hour to get down to the planet and for all the squad members to find The Lucky Shrike Bar. Aliya was one of the first to arrive and took a seat that Mar, Davis and Torre had picked out. Well, it was more like several tables pushed together that had enough room to fit the entire squad. The waitress had just put down three pitches of beer and was heading back to the bar for more.

Within the next twenty or so minutes, the rest of the Shadows wandered in flying solo or in small groups of two's and three's. They gathered around the table, taking their seats and diving right into their drinks, or ordering something else that caught their fancy. Davis waited until the group got situated enough before standing abruptly, catching Aliya off guard, who was seated next to her, and blinked when she watched her Flight Commander climb onto the table, demanding for everyone's attention. Not only did she manage to get it, but that of the entire bar.

[Tal Kellison]

For the first time in weeks, Kellison was able to relax.

First it was the preperation for the ambush at Endor, then the tremendous responsibilies of having command suddenly thrust upon him, then dealing with the aftermath of the battle.

But now, with most of the crew on leave down on the surface of Coruscant, including the damnable Shadow Squadron, Kellison had time to think, to let the reality of his situation set in. He was a captain. A CAPTAIN. And it wasn't a dream either; his new rank had been confirmed by his superiors following the battle. (Little did Kellison know that they simply had no one better to take command of the Termagant instead of him. For the time being, they were content to leave him to deal with the ISD and Shadow Squadron, thinking him mostly harmless.)

The loss of several of their teammates had soured the pilots' moods considerably. Perhaps it was the realization that even the members of a self-proclaimed elite squadron weren't invincible. In any case, they were the planetside security force's problem now...until he no doubt had to patiently talk them out of jail in a few days. Still, until then, he would enjoy these glorious few days of peace.

And with that thought in mind, he sank back onto the hard bunk in his spartan quarters, soft music filling his ears.

[Silus Xilarian]

Although he'd only met the rest of the Shadows in passing, he knew all of them by either name or callsign, and the one scaling her chair to scramble onto the table, he knew, was Bette "Shooter" Davis (ok, so he knew her by name and callsign). As the raven haired devil finally got her balance atop the table, a credit landed by her foot, tossed by none other than the curly headed flyboy she'd had the pleasure of sitting by on the shuttle.

[Bette Davis]

The bar was full of off duty pilots, civvies, and a small group of what appeared to be Imperial cadets that were holding court in the back of the room. They were wearing their light grey uniforms, most of them with the jackets open, and with girls giggling and ooh-ing over them.

Bette took a deep breath, held her shot of Corellian rum aloft, and stepped onto her chair, and then to the table. There were a few catcalls, one noticeably from Val, and a credit landed at her feet. The flyboy from the shuttle winked suggestively at her, and she gifted him with a baleful stare that promised more to come later.

She was surprised when he took a seat at their table, but chose to ignore it. The table she was standing on was slightly off kilter, and her three inch tall boots made her a little unbalanced, but she quickly righted herself without spilling her shot.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Bette proclaimed, "I'm not known for my eloquence, but we all lost people we know at Endor. Gaffe, Freezer, Tool, Rails, Ripper, Bantha, Grease, Junket, Head... just to name a few. So, a toast - to our fallen comrades, may the afterlife greet them as the heroes they are."

Bette lifted her shot high, and then downed it.

[Jason Dreggs]

"Cheers!"

Jason spoke in agreement from the edge of the table. Those where about the only words he had spoken since endor to anyone but himself. He down his shot in one gulp. It burned going down but he didn't let it show on his face. He could handle his liquor about as well as he handle a tie in a dogfight.

He sat back quietly and watched all the others seated around the table keeping mostly to himself. He was getting acquainted with the mannerisms and attitudes of his fellow pilots. So he watched them all as best he could to learn a few things about them.

[Ulrhik Godsend]

Ulrhik didn't bother drinking his small glass in the back of the room. He rather tipped over the glass, letting it run over the table. He'd taken a seat away from where the first few had taken a seat. This was pathetic the more his... realism caught up with him. They had survived the fight, they had overcome the average statistic of death, and the others hadn't.

Ulrhik knew he was taking his thoughts too far but that was why he'd gotten a table away and without anything to drink. He feared that it was possible he might voice his tainted opinions and lose something in their perspective of him.

[Tannis V'larr]

Tannis stood against the bar, the compulsory shot of rum in hand. As Commander Davis listed the names of the dead, the Sikarran halfbreed reviewed what he'd read of them in the personnel files--all of them exemplary pilots, many of them well-decorated and equally well-castigated by their superiors. Despite their impressive statistics, their high-flying individualism was troubling to him. Even as the new generation of Shadows was drinking their memorial toasts, Tannis was calculating how best to improve the structure and policies of Shadow Squadron now that it was being rebuilt. Perhaps he would submit a list of suggestions to Commander Davis to pass on to the Squadron Commander.

The Professor was not so lost in his thoughts that he forgot to drink the toast. He forced the vile stuff down his throat, then asked the 'tender for a kiva juice. Tannis drank in strict moderation if he drank at all--Sikarrans tended to be more vulnerable to alcohol than humans.

Palming the flagon of pulpy orange fluid, he made his way to the tables where most of the Shadows seemed to be congregating, not to be friendly as much as to study his new squadmates. He silently inserted himself between Davis and Dreggs as the Shadows settled into their individual shore leave celebrations.

He waited patiently while Bette finished a short, somewhat petulant discussion with the man who'd thrown the credit, then said, "Commander Davis, I have been meaning to ask. When will a schedule of training exercises be posted? Formation drills, advanced tactical maneuvers, that sort of thing?"

Tannis had strictly required biweekly drills of his squadron, even worked them into routine patrol missions. It entered his mind that perhaps Shadow Squadron had no such regimen--an appalling thought--but he was willing to give the squad leader the benefit of the doubt.

[Bette Davis]

Bette wobbled on the table, and Val had to hold up a hand so she could steady herself. "V'larr, that is an excellent question." The Flight Commander climbed down off the table (almost ending up in Maniac's lap!), and took her seat.

She paused to pour herself a mug of beer, and then added, "Thing is, until our new Shadow Leader decides which way is up around here, we won't have training schedules. Of course, we have leave for a week, but I imagine it would be some time after that." Bette knocked beers with Maniac and raced him to the bottom of their glasses.

[Aliya Vahlshalynn]

Aliya nodded and took a healthy swig of beer herself. She wasn't trying to enter the contest with Bette and Maniac in any form, thought it was quite clear those two were old drinking buddies.

She was only looking to relax. A week off after hell at Endor was exactly what she needed. Actually, Aliya couldn't really remember the last time she had shore leave. It had to be maybe a year ago? With the Emperor constantly pushing the construction of the Death Star, a lot of her time was spent protecting the battle station under the flag of her old Star Destroyer.