Kick the Tires and Light the Fires

[Jamo Jakatta]

The briefing room was quiet, and that could only mean one thing. The men and women of Rogue Squadron were suited and booted, helmets in their laps and stern focus in their eyes. Since joining the escort of the convoy known as the Wheel, the squadron's missions had been few and far between. Regular patrols had kept each pilot active, but for a bunch of jocks who had earned their wings vaping eyeballs and squints, it was soul-destroying stuff. Word was, however, that the Commander had an assignment for them at last – a real assignment – and not one of the squadron was going to miss the chance to take part.

When the door to the briefing room hissed open, it was Kelly Perris who entered. All eleven pilots rose to their feet and offered a crisp salute, as the hint of a smile touched Jamo's eyes. Perris gave a salute in return then gestured for them all to be at ease. They sank back into their seats, most perching on the edge, eagerly anticipating being out of the Valiant and in the skies.

“What's the score, Commander?”

[Carré Inirial]

Biting her lip, she was hard-pressed to stop tugging at her bright orange flight suit, her left hand holding her helmet on her lap. In spite of the determination writ across her features and lighting her gaze, Carré was having a deucedly rough time sitting still. The young woman had spent so long in the sim just getting used to the controls of her new ship before she'd even been let into it for routine patrols.

And now, she needed something else. Craved it, in fact, given how long it had now been since she'd flown into any form of combat. Gods, she fervently hoped that this briefing was going to throw something more interesting than another escort duty at them.

From her left side, an elbow introduced itself to her side which made her scowl until she turned to see who'd taken the seat. Broad-shouldered and blue-skinned, her wingman grinned at her as he spoke, his glowing crimson eyes crinkling around the edges. "Y'alright there, kiddo?"

"Yeah...I'm ok. Never been good at sitting still unless I'm painting, and with the possibility of something other than escort or patrol duty...I just don't know what to do with myself." She replied honestly, casting him a sheepish glance and a shrug of her shoulders.

Much to her chagrin, Yoree patted her head and snickered as she less than discreetly elbowed him in the side. Though she'd never tell him, Carré didn't mind him treating her like his kid sister most of the time. It was something she actually missed since the death of her brothers.

Carre's expression went blank save for a small smile as the Commander entered the room and everyone stood, offering a crisp salute. She perched on the very edge of her chair, hands clasped together atop the helmet in her lap as he bid them at ease, and waited eagerly. She'd have been bouncing if Yoree's hand hadn't settled on her shoulder to keep her still.

[Sanis Prent]

Late. Damn.

I walked into the briefing room, basking in the afterglow of a tremendous hangover. Last night was a blur. I knew there was whisky involved, and I think I attempted to go shot for shot with Cirr. Not surprisingly, my first mate was already present, looking fully awake and unaffected. It was a fool's errand to even try to out-drink the big guy, but I was feeling up for it for some reason.

I burped under my breath, paused, closed my eyes and screwed them up with my fists, then sauntered over to my seat, simply labeled Rogue 13. There had been a few laughs about sticking me with the supposedly unlucky number, but I took it all in stride. Besides, I was born lucky.

The upside about flying point in a ship with a considerable amount of ass to it was that I didn't have to wear the awful creamsicle Rebel flight suits. Instead, I got something more akin to a navy stiff, blue on blue jacket and pants. It matched Cirr's coveralls and still looked a little ridiculous for my taste, but it could be worse.

Looking to the side, I saw Cirr also standing at attention and saluting. Baffled at my colleague's sudden embracing of the asinine and ridiculous, I shrugged and stood idly by.

[Iyar Thiled]

Sitting to Jamo's side was Iyar, who was practically twitching in anticipation of Perris' words. It felt somewhat strange to find himself not wondering who the new faces were - especially the rather pretty thing that was currently situated on his other side. Joker had told him about a little incident that had happened between the lot over on the The Valiant. There had been a good amount of lamenting on Iyar's part that he hadn't been there in person to see it all, but something in the rations from The Wheel hadn't been sitting right with good 'ol Flipper and sadly he'd been spending that particular evening curled up in his bunk praying to whatever higher power there was that he could stop getting acquainted with the so-called porcelain gods.

Another glance was cast at lucky number 13 and the Cizerack with him. Iyar couldn't help but think the guy kind of looked like he was about to take up the charge that Iyar had managed to shake off. Maybe he'd gotten into that same bad batch of rations. Or maybe it was nerves. Or maybe Iyar was just projecting thoughts on to the guy...

The Zeltron made a bit of a face as he caught himself in the series of somewhat rambling thoughts, snapping his attention back to Perris.

[Kelly Perris]

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen… listen up.” He began, commanding their attention to the front of the room. He paced back and forth, slowly, until all eyes were attentively trained on him. Most all of them were. Everyone was itching for action. Kelly scanned the assembled for bleary eyes. Everyone knew what the other had been up to as of late – they all had been there. “Alzoc Three…”
<o></o>
He heard muffled groans. Everyone that knew their planets knew well enough knew that Alzoc III wasn’t much to look at and promised little in the way of action, as a general rule The commander waited for some of the disgruntled sounds to die down. “Okay, now. Hear me out”
<o></o>
Perris folded his hands behind his back, looking over the occupants of the room. He nodded, mostly to himself, as if to note some level of personal satisfaction. It would do.
<o></o>
“Since Endor, Alzoc III has been, for the majority of the time, left alone. Imperial forces pulled out after that disaster and consolidated. The Talz and their snowy wastes have been left in peace since. That is, until approximately three or four months ago.”
<o></o>
A whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Although it wouldn’t have been amusing to a pacifist to have the peaceful Talz bothered, it was what they were bothered by that caused his minor touch of amusement. He seemed to lean in, then, as if he were preparing to tell tall tales.
<o></o>
“Pirates.” He put a heavy dousing of dramatics into his tone. “Pirates are harassing the Talz and we're to find out why and deter these pirates in the process."

That wasn't all. Command had noted to him the scent of something being a little off as if the whole story wasn't being told here. However, the squadron operated best on facts, not speculation. Information was metered out as 'need to know' and right now, he supposed that wasn't necessary. Of course, if someone asked, he might be obliged. Most of the squadron tended to be contented with the 'when and how' of things, as it went.
<o></o>

[Jamo Jakatta]

Aside from the one Talz who he'd seen milling about on the engineering decks, Jakatta didn't know much about the species or their homeworld. What interested him about this mission could be summoned up in one word: Pirates! Jamo suppressed a grin. There was something novel about the idea, the challenge of facing someone wasn't another cardboard cut-out from the Imperial naval academies. They all flew in the same formations, kept to the same tactics – but pirates! Well, unless they were academy drop outs, they might have a little ingenuity.

“When do we ship out?”

[Carré Inirial]

"Is that all the intel we have, Sir?"

Carré piped up, tapping her fingers absently across her helmet as she tried to formulate why it didn't sound right. There were pirates, they were harassing the Talz, they quite obviously needed to be taken care of. It should have been enough. And it was, and the Commander could very well tell her nothing more, but it was worth a shot to ask.


Hell, even Yoree leaned forward since she'd stopped bouncing in her seat, his own curiosity piqued.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Pjirrates hell yes!"

Cirr suddenly realized that was out loud, and his ears fell down noticeably. Something was hard-written in Cizeri genes for that sort of response, and even after living years as essentially a scoundrel and a ne-er-do-well of some sort, Cirr was obviously happy about turning it about.

Sanis just shook his head at it all. Cirr sniffed. He was still feeling the effects of last night, but Cirr figured a batch of greasy leftovers and some caf and he'd get his head screwed on.

[Kelly Perris]

Perris was glad to see enthusiasm. Everyone had been less-than-enthusiastic about the routine patrols, as there was little action in them. Aside from when they had lost Bailey, there had been virtually nil in the way of combat. Fighter pilots were not only protectors, but hunters. They could be, in some ways, feral. Cirr's thrilled whoop seemed to speak for the squadron.

Rogue Leader turned his attention to Carré Inirial, Rogue Eleven, who had the mind to ask after more information. There wasn't much in the way of it, but...

"Command thinks there's something more to this. There's little on Alzoc III that is of any worth to your standard pirate. Snow and Talz, that's about all that's there. The brass thinks there's something afoot. Either these pirates are hiding something or this is a diversion from something else." He looked from Inirial to everyone, then. "Regardless of what's really going on, the pirates are still part of the problem."

Finally. Finally, they were doing more than sitting away on their keesters. Rapt attention was written on the faces of everyone assembled, awaiting 'go'. Well, most everyone

"Squadrons permanently stationed with the Valiant will be taking over our duties, here. Thank them for their sacrifice." Kelly laughed. "You'll have three hours from the scheduled end of this briefing. We'll be shipping out after midday meal."

He paused, as if to consider something before saying anything more. Then:

"Alright. Any further questions?"

[Sanis Prent]

I raised my hand, still a little shaky from the previous night out.

"If it's pirates, they like to hit with small craft but there might be one or more large capital ships they keep as mobile bases. Any word on what our ROE is if we run into one of those?"

Cirr and I both knew more about pirates than the entire room, I imagined. They weren't always well armed, but they were very unorthodox. At any rate, after weeks of retrofitting and repairing, we'd gotten Layla, er, Rogue 13 whipped into shape as heavy escort platform. Added an extra warhead tube and a beefier shield generator power plant at the expense of some of the normal cargo hold capacity. My plan for a pirate-rigged pair of engines from an A-wing was on hold, as we couldn't afford one engine, let alone quite figure out how to make it work. Still, the ship was leaner and meaner than she'd been probably since I bought her.

[Jamo Jakatta]

“The usual?” Jamo chipped in, with a glance at Perris. “Fangs out and confirm situational awareness on arrival? Unless intel got us more than just jump co-ordinates this time.”

Somehow, he doubted that the pirates would just be sitting waiting for the Rogue's to show up the party. If they had a base or a routine, he supposed the Commander would have mentioned it by now, so it seemed to him that they were essentially going in blind.

[Iyar Thiled]

If the thought of hunting some space-trash pirates wasn't enough to make him grin, Cirr's outburst sealed the deal to the point where if the briefing went on much longer, Iyar's cheeks would ache the rest of the day.

If there was something up more than just pirates pestering people on a snowy planet, Iyar was sure they could handle it. Rogue Squadron always was able to handle it.

As Joker asked the next question, the Zeltron was still happy to keep quiet. Anything that was cropping up in his mind was quickly being mentioned by the others. And while the usual in this case would be something they hadn't done in some time, Iyar almost wanted to see just how exciting this whole thing could end up and maybe, just maybe, they'd have a different procedure to go by this time around.

[Kelly Perris]

Kelly, in his usually calm demeanor that came with briefings, fielded the questions in the order they were asked. First, to Sanis. A good question. One he realized was in the details, in hindsight. It really had been too long since they'd been put to something useful.

"Yes... sorry. It was a long night for all of us, it seems. Too long between missions, too." He offered a partially grimacing smile before laughing somewhat, clearing his throat and continuing. "Intel confirms small craft as you have suggested, Prent. However, there were no reported sightings of base ships, meaning they were either not in the local area, planetside or doing their best to remain unseen. Ideally, those of us in snubfighters chase down the smaller craft and run cooperative on larger vessels with support craft like the Layla heading such initiatives. Overall, we exploit weaknesses where we can find them, as soon as we find them, providing it's convenient and not detrimental to our position. All in all, you support us, we support you."

Hot Mama rubbed a hand over his eyes. A part of him entertained the notion that he might be getting too old for the late nights and routine mornings. A thought he banished without issue. Next, to Jamo.

"Pretty much, Joker. I don't like flying in blind like this any more than the next guy, but I'll take it over dull and predictable. I think everyone can agree on that." He stated, glancing over the assembled before going on. "The smaller craft in the area, for the most part, were seen to not be long-range vehicles. There has to be support somewhere. I wouldn't count on being lucky enough for anything bigger to be 'out of town', so to speak."

Routine patrols and imperial ties was what he meant by 'dull and predictable'. There'd been little change to the flight and attack formations and routines that the imperial squadrons used as standard since he had last been one of them. Most of what they knew and displayed was cutting edge when he introduced and taught it at Carida. Obviously, some of those pilots had improvised. How else had he seen her (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=17302) still alive back on Bespin? Of all people, it would be expected that she would come out on top.

He tried not to think about that, instead scanning the men and women before him for further questions.

"Anyone else?" The room was almost eerily silent now. All eyes on him. "Okay. No more questions then. Go time is thirteen-hundred hours. You're dismissed."

He stared at all of them, staring at him, like they hadn't heard. Or they were in disbelief.

"Well? Scram, the lot of you! Move. Time's a-wastin'." And he turned away and exited, stage left.

------

Flight Deck - Valiant - 1200hrs

"Shouldn't you be eating, sir?"

"I already did, Tink."

"Oh. Well... oh. Okay then." The young man peered out from where he sat in the cockpit of a recently acquired x-wing that, as yet, did not have a pilot. It was supposed to go with another X-wing - which also, did not have a pilot. Perris sighed. "Something wrong, Commander?"

Kelly shook his head. "Nothing new and nothing that should concern you, Regan Altink."

The young mechanic winced, not liking the sound of his full name at all. He didn't mention it, however. He knew it was a rebuke, meaning he should keep his nose out of business that wasn't really his own, but he'd been around each bend right along with the squadron and they both knew he deserved to be in on everything. Tink managed to find out, one way or another, eventually.

"Three pilots; I know. They've only sent you one to fill one space." Tink leaned out of the cockpit, draping one arm with a spanner in hand outside of it. "But you know and I know that you'll do alright. Got faith in you guys, chief."

"Thanks, Tink." Kelly licked his lips, hands posed on his hips. "You remember Sanis Prent, right? Well, he seems to be on with us as..."

Kelly snerked.

"What? Well, he ain't getting in any of my cockpits."

The commander just shook his head.

"No... no. The Layla is now Rogue 13." He looked up at Regan again. "You think calling him Lucky over the comm. would be a little much, kid?"

Regan laughed then, ducking himself back into the wiring work on the x-wing. "No, sir. Not at all. Perfect, in fact."

[Carré Inirial]

"Don't forget to eat."

"Huh?"

"Eat something, kiddo. You do know what that means, yes?"

"Oh shut up, Yoree...even I know better than that." She stuck her tongue out at him and darted away before he could retaliate, turning to grin as she reached the door.

~~~

Flight Deck - Valiant - 1215hrs

"Regan!"

Her voice rang out as she bounced onto the flight deck, searching the various ships for the squadron's mechanical whiz-kid. A loud, and half-muffled 'oww' came from one of the cockpits, followed soon by a head of hair that had likely not seen a comb in some time.

"Dammit, Princess...don't do that!"

"Jeebus, Regan, we're all gonna be pouring in here today, we're leaving in forty-five. You really weren't expecting me this soon?"

"Expected you two hours ago. Eleven's ready, get outta my hair." He shook his head with a smirk and ducked back into his work.

Carré offered an impish grin as she wandered over to her ship, waving to Yoree as he clambered up his own ladder. Stowing her small bag, she then dropped her helmet on her seat before hopping back down. She paced around the ship as she always did, doing a quick visual check that had become reflexive from her days at Carida. Fingers trailed along the cool metal as she walked, then grasped the short ladder as she hopped back up and into her cockpit.

Settling in, she sat there for a moment and did nothing save for breathing deeply. Blinking, she grinned to herself as she set her helmet aside and began her pre-flight checks.

[Sanis Prent]

Layla - 1225 hours

"...oh...ohhhhh...

...harder...yes...yes...give it to meeeee....

...ohh...ohh....uhhhhhhhh...."

...and so on and so forth. I could hear it from the bridge, and I smiled.

"About time, damn."

I sipped my caf, now about lukewarm. I felt good, felt lethal. Below deck, my first mate was knocking the oil pan out of Master Chief Kochanski's bottom, as well he should. He needed to get his tip wet more than I did, and the now-legendary promiscuous master of alliance inventory was easy enough. She didn't even extort any of our surplus inventory for the ride, I guess she figured Cirr was an exotic enough flavor.

Besides, I was after more elusive game, like Saricia. Part of it was legitimate, but I guess an equal amount of it was revenge on s'Il. I never said I wasn't petty. I at least kept an open mind that at some point my attraction to the brunette Jedi might even become an honest one. Maybe. I still held open the thought that if I showed her more of the galaxy than she'd seen to this date and gave her a long leash, she'd be down for all sorts of fun activities on the side.

Another glance down to the mission dossier on my screen, and I switched it off. It was straightforward, but plenty cryptic. We had a vague idea of what was out there, but not much. The moment Cirr got back to the ship, he began berating MARCUS constantly about the sensor suite. We had the biggest set in the squadron, but the big guy was intent on cheating a little more range and clarity out of it...basically anything to occupy his time before launch. That led to Master Chief Booty Call coming aboard. As of the last diagnostic, it netted us a 4% signal range boost and a 2% clarity factor, and it was netting Cirr...

"oooohhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!"

...well.

Silence. I waited a few seconds, then tapped on the comm.

"Cirr, what's the status on repairs?"

Through the comm, I heard Kochanski's post-coital panting as Cirr coughed briefly, fumbling for the vox.

"Plugged a coolant leak, and jI'm cleanjing up as we speak."

I didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. We were on the same wavelength.

"Well, when you're back in uniform, please escort the cooling leak off the ship. We're flaring up and moving out in just a few."

I killed the vox, paused, lit up a stim, and patched an external comm out.

"Rogue Thirteen to Rogue Eleven, come in."

[Carré Inirial]

In the midst of her pre-flight checks, she'd flipped her music player on, a driving drumbeat and fast guitars echoing out from it. She doubted she'd be the only one with music on, but she kept the volume low enough to not bother anyone else. Tugging the headset onto her head since she didn't feel like patching it into her helmet yet, she tested it briefly with a quick call to Yoree.

Her wingman gifted her with a muffled curse in Cheunh, which he'd begun teaching her some of the past several days. If only so that when he ranted, she'd have half a clue as to what the hell he was saying. Carré snickered at his obvious frustration and cut the comm off, a bare minute before it crackled to life again.

"Rogue Thirteen to Rogue Eleven, come in."

The brunette arched a brow as she flicked it on to answer Sanis.

"Eleven here...what's up, Thirteen?" she replied as she turned her music down to hear better, and leaned back in her seat.

[Sanis Prent]

"So, what are ya wearin'?"

[Carré Inirial]

"Under this here orange flight-suit? Not a damn thing."

[Sanis Prent]

"Whaddya say we fuck these pirates up, swing back, and I show you how to lose your creamsicle suit?"

I leaned back in my pilot's seat, boots on the console, lining up ships in my view with a finger & thumb "gun" and "shooting" them to pass the time.

[Carré Inirial]

"Now how's a girl supposed to refuse an offer like that? I've got half a mind to accept if I even thought you could handle me."

Carré shot back, toying with the cord to her headset as she watched the last of her diagnostics finish and display results on their screens.

[Sanis Prent]

"I'm not your Caridan butler. I'm not going to ask if you want cream in your caf. It's mandatory."

Bored, I flicked through the computer records, bringing up a personnel holo of Carré, complete with that boring, baggy-ass flight suit. Fortunately with a little bit of holographic manipulation, I cropped and pasted a suitable bikini bottom onto the floating holographic head. There we go.

[Carré Inirial]

"Is it now...well alright then. I guess I'll have to be all kinds of properly grateful if you save my ass, won't I?"

Glancing over, Carré grinned at Yoree's expression, muting her end of the comm as she laughed at the Chiss' theatrics. Turning back to her controls, she shook her head and pulled a silver chain with six tags on it out of her pocket. Hanging it from the panel closest to her left hand, she pulled her helmet into her lap and fiddled with the strap.

[Jamo Jakatta]

“So romance isn't dead after all,” another voice came over the squadron's comm-link.

In his cockpit, Jamo secured the chin-strap of his helmet and began the pre-flight checks that were as natural to a starfighter pilot as breathing. Knocking his thumbnail against one of the control board's switches, he threw a glance to the left where he saw his wingman going through the same motions.

“Rogue Nine, standing by.”

[Iyar Thiled]

All that managed to leave Iyar was a small, stifled laugh that came out more of a snort as soon as Jamo got the comment out. What didn't leave was the thought that at least those new to Rogue had some spunk to 'em.

He caught Jamo's glance and gave him a quick thumbs-up, both for the romance bit and in his usual sign giving Joker a heads up on what left his mouth only a second later. "Rogue Ten, standing by."

[Carré Inirial]

"Jealous, Joker?"

Carré glanced over at Jamo and grinned before pulling on her helmet. Her preflight checks were done and there was little else to do except wait for the others and the Commander.

"Rogue Twelve, standing by."

"Rogue Eleven, standing by."

Tilting her head to look over at Yoree, she grinned broadly was about to open a comm channel to harass him before a sharp trill sounded behind her. Shifting enough to glance over her shoulder, she shook her head and resettled herself.

"Shut it, Fiver. I'm not going to get us blown up on our first real mission. I'll save it for the second."

[Sanis Prent]

The lights on the systems diagnostic board started to flip green one by one, and I slid my feet off the console, tapping the general comm again.

"Uh, Rogue 13, standing by."

By this time the "coolant leak" was safely aboard the Valiant, and Cirr had parked the Black Cat safely aboard.

"Cirr, we're mounting up, move your ass!"

[Henry McDonnaught]

"Rogue 3 standing by"

McDonnaught's voice was scratchy and uninspiring. Hungovers did that to a man.

Lucky he was wearing a helmet cause he felt like his head would have exploded an hour ago if it hadn't been encased in reinforced plastic..

[Jamo Jakatta]

As crack military squadron's went, the Rogue's didn't exactly sound like the pinnacle of efficieny. They were on the whole a groggy, sneering, sniping lot – but for all their flaws, there was no one better at shooting the shit out of eyeballs and squints.

“We're good to go, Rogue Leader. Just say the magic words.”

[Kelly Perris]

He'd been going through pre-flight, one ear on the comm chatter between his pilots. It was the usual fare and with a new pilot - scratch that - two new pilots to the squadron (albeit one wasn’t exactly, per se), he had been mighty tempted to tell them to cut it out as go time crept closer. But, tried and true, as the minutes ticked down and the 'minutes to' squished him closer to 'takeoff', the voices of the squadron formed up and at last, they were all waiting for him.

"Rogue Leader, standing by." He said the familiar words, words of anticipation over the start-up sequences of every snub and smaller vessel aiding in this mission. Then it came. He cleared his throat and flicked the comm to outside of the squadron. "Control, this is Rogue One. Are we clear to launch?"

It just built as he awaited the permission. The perfect vector for the start of the jumps was coming up and nobody wanted to miss it. He patched the squadron comm. to the Control comm. and let everyone listen in.
<o></o>
“Affirmative, Lead. You are go to launch in T-minus three minutes and counting.” Kelly could hear the shadow of a smile in the officer’s voice. “Good luck, Rogues and happy hunting.”
<o></o>
Commander Perris grinned at that. “Thank you, Control. Stay safe. Lead, out.”
<o></o>
Then he disconnected the patch-through and switched to the squadron channel. He could hear the brimming excitement. He listened for a good minute or so.
<o></o>
“Alright, ladies and gents. You heard the man. Let’s go and live up to our name.” He paused. “Two minutes to go time. Rev, up, Rogues. Launch on my mark – take to hyperspace on the designated route, mapped into your nav computers.”
<o></o>
This last minute always seemed to be the longest – an excruciating stretch of time.
<o></o>
“One minute. Cut the chatter, Rogues.” The chatter died down quicker than he had seen at the briefing and that alone has been a record. “Thirty seconds.”
<o></o>
Struts were retracting or already retracted. Every craft assigned to this mission hovered in the hangar, eagerly pointed to the open bay doors, awaiting that one word.
<o></o>
And then it came.
<o></o>
“Go, go, go!”
<o></o>
They couldn’t get out of that hangar quick enough. Kelly Perris took point and lead his men and women out into the starry black. Within less than a minute afterwards, a couple handfuls of blinks were all that was left of Rogue Squadron on this end of the hyperspace lanes.

[Tera Uolmi]

<meta http-equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 3.1 (Win32)"><style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> With bursts of light mere seconds apart from one another, the fighters of Rogue Squadron screamed out of hyperspace into the Alzoc system. Straining forward against her safety webbing, Tera made a visual check that her wingmate was present then gave a single click across the squad's internal comms to confirm their arrival. Simultaneously, she worked the X-Wing's controls, spinning the fighter through a one-eighty as its sensors swept over the surrounding area.

[Sanis Prent]

"Rogue 13 to squad, engaging sensor grid. You've got sensor solution in realtime, frequency seven four six two nine."

Layla, at the center of the cluster of ships bursting out of hyperspace, banked toward the planet as the squad fanned out to assess the situation. Alzoc III lay ahead, and...

beep beep beep

I tapped a notification pinging on the sensor grid.

"Picking up a ship in orbit. Can we get a pos ID?"

[Kelly Perris]

"Confirmed, Thirteen." Came the voice of the Leader over the comm. as he himself put out feelers over the area while the wordless clicks of each man and woman in the squadron came through, confirming their arrival in one cohesive package. You never knew sometimes what might be lurking out amongst the hyperspace lanes. Thankfully, this time, nothing got in the way. "We have one..."

His words came to an abrupt halt. The readout on the ship was nothing he had expected. Well, honestly, he hadn't known what to expect, but usually nothing so...

"...it's a Liberator-class cruiser. I'd recognize this readout anywhere, but to be honest, I haven't seen this particular one since just before Endor."

It was almost haunting, as the signal came up, broadcasting low from the hidden vessel. The signal was familiar. Friendly familiar.

"Damn it." He cursed further, off the comm. Then he clicked back on. "Confirmation? Tell me I'm not the only one seeing a rebel signal on this target."

Just as he asked, several smaller blips began spilling out onto the grid.

[Jamo Jakatta]

“Multiple contacts.. one- two squadrons worth of snubs.”

The multiplexer array of the X-Wing's tracking computer sketched a grid across the stars, highlighting the Liberator-class and it's fighter flights with a swarm of red dots. With one hand on the stick, Jamo tapped the control board and initiated the quick calibration of the starfighter, from it's idle travelling mode to combat readiness.

“Rogue Nine, s-foils in attack position...”

[Carré Inirial]

She'd done nothing more than chime in with her arrival, spinning her ship on a flat plane to scan the area behind their entry points.

A quick verbal confirmation across the squadron channel saw her spin back around to face the same direction as the others, registering the massive craft just as the others did. Carré blinked at her display, tapping it twice only to stare in disbelief for several more silent moments.

"Confirmed, Lead. Reading a weak rebel signal on the target."

Something feels off.

“Rogue Nine, s-foils in attack position...”

"Rogue Twelve, s-foils in attack position." Yoree chimed in, his voice clear and strong across the channel.

Her fingers slid smoothly across the switches of the right-hand panel, flipping two silver ones up without even looking. "Rogue Eleven, s-foils locked in attack position."

[Sanis Prent]

"It's our I.F.F., but we're a long way since Endor."

I sat back in my seat, barely acknowledging as Cirr rushed up to take the duty station adjacent to me, where he could be of use manning weapons if we needed to do so.

Suddenly, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"I've seen pirates squat derelict starships and refurb them to servicable condition. Never anything this ambitious though."

Cirr, sensing my own anticipation of a fight, keyed up the double quads to extend from their ventral and dorsal pop-outs.

"Rogue Leader, I'm confirming Rogue Nine's snubs. Looks like Z-95's, Cloakshapes, a few Y-wings, and a few other mixed models. That's a bit slapdash, even for our standards.

Whatever they are, looks like they're moving to screen us."

[Kelly Perris]

<o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" forum="" images="" smilies="" blush.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Blush" smilieid="2" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com<img src=" forum="" images="" smilies="" blush.gif="" border="0" alt="" title="Blush" smilieid="2" class="inlineimg"></o:smarttagtype><!--><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> He nodded. They were a long time from Endor, a long time from that devastating battle that dealt a hefty blow to both sides of the war equation. That battle from whose ashes rose this very squadron, this incarnation for which Kelly was responsible for its survival and prevailing.
<o></o>
“I remember the man that used to command that vessel, the <st1:city><st1>[I]Salvador</st1></st1:city>.” He mused. How many saviors turned tail like this one? Not true ones. “Harmon Cillik. I wonder what happened to him.”
<o></o>
Shortly after those words, he too was confirming the onset of the opponent’s fighters. There appeared to be some whole, full piece vessels, but there was some hodgepodge amongst them. A small part of him wondered now what really was at work here and whether the more cobbled together snubs were merely to uphold an image. The commander’s brow creased at all the covert possibilities tumbling through his mind as he watched, readying for the oncoming squadrons of fighters by moving his own s-foils to attack position. Why couldn’t it be just a simple fight and victory? What was going on here?
<o></o>
No matter. Treat it as it looked, for the time being. The simplest answer is often the right one. Usually.
<o></o>
“Noted, Thirteen." He nudged his nose around to face head-on. "Alright. They want a fight, we’ll give them one.” He paused. “Move to engage. Incapacitate, but do not destroy the base vessel, should they choose to join in as well. The snubs are fair game, ladies and gentlemen.”

The enemy fighters were closing, fast. Time to play.

[Iyar Thiled]

It felt strange to be staring down friendly looking ships, pirates or no and Iyar was damn sure the rest of the squad was probably sharing that sensation. Strange, but it wouldn't prevent them from doing what they had to. Of course, there might also have been a train of thought of making the pirates regret ever even considering using the ships, especially the cruiser.

Flipper let a small laugh leave him. "Well Joker, we going to wait around all day for these amateurs to make a move or you want to get this party going?"

[Jamo Jakatta]

When he fired off a reply, there was an audible note of satisfaction in Jamo's voice.

“Weapons free, Flipper.”

At the commander's instruction, he pushed forward on the throttle and broke away from the squadron, preparing to slip instead into the two-man attack formations that he and Iyar ran so well together. Taking the lead, he swung the X-Wing in a tight arc that would bring it in line with the flank of the enemy Y-Wings. As they came within range, he fired off an opening volley, shots sizzling against the opposing fighters shields.

[Carré Inirial]

The squadron split apart to engage the enemy fighters. Carré and Yoree banked to the right in a neat maneuver, both getting out of the Layla's way and taking themselves to a better vantage point.

"Lao tyen yeh...Flash, are you seeing that pair of beat up fighters on the right there?"

"I see a CloakShape and a...is that a TIE?"

"It certainly is...one of the way early models, too. Flew one at Carida..."

"Ladies first."

Carré grinned as her X-wing shot forward, ticking off the seconds in her head as she approached and opened fire on the TIE that had seen better days. But, having flown one, she knew better than to underestimate it and its pilot. Yoree, in the meantime had slipped around to her left to engage the CloakShape, hissing in Cheunh over their comm channel.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Layla surged ahead as the other Rogues accelerated to the flanks. Cirr took full advantage and sprayed a barrage from both quads ahead in a sweep. The imprecise fire hit nothing, but compelled the pirates to break formation in the middle.

Sanis hit the gap with max sublights, and Cirr keyed up a lock on a cloakshape that was too slow on the draw. A concussion missile streaked ahead, skewering it in a fatal strike.

[Tera Uolmi]

Tera pulled forward in the engine-wake of the Layla using the bigger ship as cover as they advanced on their targets. As a missile shot off into a cluster of cloakshapes, she broke free and strafed to the left, thumbing the trigger and sending a rapid fire of blaster bolts hammering across the broadside of a snub that was trying to break clear of the explosion Prent had just triggered.

[Sanis Prent]

"Cirr, watch six!"

MARCUS had already sounded the klaxon and we banked hard as Layla danced out of the way of a Y-wing that came back to center with an ion cannon strafe.

The Cizerack gunner was already traversing the dorsal gun and put enough hell in the area to convince the heavy fighter to break off it's bee line.

"Rogue Nine, you've got one riding coattails. Swing across my vector, I'll pick it off."

[Jamo Jakatta]

“Copy, Thirteen.”

It was no sooner said than Jamo's 'fighter swung in a tight arc, taking the X-Wing in a full u-turn then throttling it across the Layla's line of sight. Flipper followed suit and hung hard to he left, readjusting his flightpath so that the two X-Wing's would come together once Prent had picked off the ugly hooked to Joker's six.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

The alert klaxon lit up the console as the sensor suite detected positive confirm of a missile lock. Cirr peeled off the Y-wing in time to catch another coming from below. A well-placed stream of quad laser fire caused a flareout in the bomber's starboard engine nacelle, which sent the pirate craft hurtling off target, at least until the astromech could get things stitched, most likely.

"No shoot, no shoot, we'rre alrrjight."

The lights dimmed as the ship bucked, and a few consoles behind the felinoid sparked. Looking annoyed, Cirr looked over to Sanis.

"Well that doesn't mean fly ljike my grrandmotherr, come on, scoot and move!"

A pair of X-wings had swooped down from above, as the pirates tried to bring up their middle to prevent the Rogues from punching through the screen completely unopposed.

[Carré Inirial]

"Fiver, grab a bit of the debris as it floats by, if you can."

"Aww, little Phoenix blew up her first TIE fighter..."

Carré shook her head and grinned as Fiver offered a derisive squawk in her defense. He might have been the most cantankerous droid in the fleet, but to his processors, he was the only one permitted to insult her.

Her sensors lit up like a holiday tree as she pulled back on her controls, sending the fighter on a steep climb. The volley of fire only just missed her, one of the shots just grazing her shields. Emerald eyes narrowed as Yoree cursed in Cheunh.

The Y-wing on her tail refused to budge, keeping up with her better than she'd have thought that particular model would have been able to. Obviously, she mused as she abruptly cut the power to her right thrusters, he'd had some work done.

A second later, the left thrusters had spun her around and she accelerated as she brought the right up again, opening fire and watching with pleasure as the Y-wing was shredded in half as she battered through its minimal shields. Tilting her fighter, Carré slipped between the two main pieces of the destroyed ship, noting the failing screen of the enemy fighters. A check of her sensor verified where the other Rogues were as she sped out to cover Yoree's back.

[Henry McDonnaught]

Its a strange phenomenon, adrenaline. A mind that was hammering mercilessly inside Donut's head at the outset of this mission and reactions that had been at first sluggish with the physical consequences of a rough night had been catapulted at jet speed into the alert, auto-reflexes that only exceptional training and peril of sudden death can bring to a man. From the instant the red-blips popped up all over his nav-screen, Donut had pushed all discomfort and distraction to the back of his consciousness and entered the fray with the dedication and zeal of his fellow Rogues.

Careening through the wreckage that followed in the wake of Rogue 11's hit, Henry maneuvered his x-wing in a series of wide sweeps, a scything pattern, before locking his sights on an agile Y-wing up ahead of him. His alarms went off as he himself was set upon from two fighters from behind.

"Er...Rogue 3 could use a little help" he said, his voice strained over the distance. He kept the Y infront of him while continuing to try shake the fighters on his tail.

[Sanis Prent]

The good news was that one of the tails I'd picked up had slipped off, but the bad was that they peeled off into Donut's vector.

"Flipper, cover loose on Donut's wake. I'm gonna try to shake the pursuit off and giftwrap it for you."

Layla bucked again, as our own tail continued to score the occasional glancing shot.

"MARCUS, dorsal cannon suppression aft. Just enough to put space between us."

The droid module momentarily assumed control of the dorsal quad, spraying the X-Wing that had strafed them, as Cirr brought the ventral cannon forward just in time for Donut to slam ahead and pass.

"Hammer down."

Cirr's fire grazed the cloakshape in pursuit of Rogue Three, which dove to put distance between it and Layla, laying it pretty squarely in Flipper's gunsights.

[Meeristali Peradun]

Ever aware of his winger, Meeristali had managed to deftly take care of any opposition in his path or on his tail through the dexterous jaunts, breaks, tilts, swirls and flips it took to stay ahead of the game, so that he could be there to provide support to the other half of his squadron-designated pair and on the whole, the squadron itself.

However, Thirteen engaged the tailers on Donut's rear and Juyo was left in a momentary state of... uncertainty. That one moment being enough to have him gain a tailer of his own. It would hopefully only be a matter of course to shake the pursuer and put the fix on him. Or her. There was no certain knowing the gender (or perhaps lack thereof) of the enemy pilot. Such things hardly mattered in the grander scheme and he shook of the errant thoughts, devoting his mental and physical resources to the new task of saving his own behind.

Rarely did the enemy sneak one in behind Juyo. There were reasons. Here, he would use the halfbreed form's lag of movement, crude inability to sharp banks and overall lesser speed to his advantage. He would, however, not make the mistake of underestimating his opponent. That is a lesson that needs learning only once, and one that was apparent to have been learned well on his part as he began to gain the upper hand through hard, precise movements, improvisation and the narrow avoidance of many bolts of enemy fire. Within some three to five minutes, the narrow window of opportunity he sought came up as he led his opponent into such a position that he was unable to stop as Peradun did, gaining himself the tail on the enemy that he wanted. From that point, it was a matter of due course to finish what he set out to do. The crude form of the enemy fighter was soon nothing more than a collection of parts flying apart at different speeds in many different directions, a direct consequence of Juyo's volley of fire.

There was good reason why he held such a callsign. Reason repeatedly observed.