Formation

[Railla Cyer]

Time was malleable. Or at least, the perception of time was. A chronometer would tick consistently the same way again and again, but human emotion colored in the lines between this constant. Time often passed too quickly when everything went the way you wanted it to go. It slowed down to treacle when the galaxy crumbled at your feet.

A glancing hit from a proton rocket had shattered her port-side solar wing, sending Railla Cyer's TIE fighter into a terminal tumble. That was what she knew. But it didn't cause panic. Instead, time slowed in that peculiar way which allowed for unusual clarity of awareness. She was out of control, and that very fact was beyond her control. The cool realization that she would likely die wasn't met with panic breaths or a fruitless shout in the void. Instead, Railla took internal stock of what had brought her to this moment, and what she should devote time to thinking about before the next shot destroyed her outright.

She thought about her mother and father, trying not to derail herself over wondering how many other doomed pilots fell back on thoughts of their parents. Railla wished she could spend her last moments in perfect reflection, thinking about a life full of the kind of things that caused time to race past fallible human perception. It had been like that, once. But her mother and her father had drifted apart in a galaxy-wide chasm that opened up between them.

Before she lost consciousness, the only thing Railla felt was anger. Anger at knowing there was something very important in her life that was taken away from her, and now it was too late to reconcile the loss.

[Railla Cyer]

Awareness came back in hazy incremental moments. Railla felt warmth, along with an unnatural lightness. Her mind was drifting too slowly to piece together the stimuli, much less to fathom that she wasn't dead as she expected to be.

Patient's heartbeat and alpha wave patterns are accelerating. She is conscious.

A disembodied voice, tinny and harsh, sounded in Railla's ears. She snapped her head left and right to triangulate the source, only to watch a stream of bubbles rise in front of her vision and catch the fringes of her hair swaying in what had to be a bacta tank. Now she was beginning to understand her surroundings. Her breath quickened.

Beyond the transparisteel cylinder, a black and grey automaton moved on spindly legs, watching her with cool white oculars. She'd been in enough sick bays to recognize a Two-OneBee unit.

SK-4202, can you hear me?

Railla fought against the fog in her brain, struggling to recollect. That designation. It was her. She nodded.

You have been in medical reconstruction for two days. Another day is required to rectify your injuries.

She looked down at the comment, and wished she hadn't. Synthflesh grafts hugged her legs and abdomen, likely placeholding over shrapnel injuries. The skin over her right hand looked puckered and raw only the way a severe burn could look. The sensation of a throbbing ache rattled down to her bones, and Railla had to wonder how much of that feeling was genuine, and how much of it was psychosomatic at seeing her own wounds. She wasn't exactly squeamish about blood and things like that, but she definitely couldn't linger on a gruesome sight for long.

Railla cleared her throat, hearing the sound in her ears reproduced over the same vox the Two-OneBee unit was also speaking through. Which meant she could talk back.

"Droid," her voice was slightly hoarse and the Jelucani accent she usually tried hard to conceal was annoyingly present in her own ears, "where am I?"

You are aboard the Star Destroyer Admonisher.

The Two-OneBee unit was stingy with his answer. The why's and how's were lacking. To anyone who didn't grow up an Imperial, this kind of conservative response might be frustrating, but it felt perfectly reasonable to Railla. The droid had an excess of personality, however, and replied with further unsolicited information.

You will be debriefed shortly.

Dark eyes flashed concern. Debriefed, in this state? She was at least in modest enough bindings, but it wasn't the concern over decency that gave her pause. It was the urgency in which her debrief was apparently needed. Surely someone else from her squadron could have been reached about their mission.

Realization hit her in that moment, like the ghostly sense of loss of an amputee and their phantom limb. She'd seen them all get shot down. Every last one of them.

She was alone.

[Bette Davis]

Commander Valtross stood outside medbay for a long moment before he entered. Normally he didn't do this sort of thing himself, but Captain Ragnus gave orders and his XO obeyed.

Ord Trasi (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57758-Hit-and-Run-(Ord-Trasi-Shipyards)-11-012-ABY) was a mess. It was a damn shame, really. The shipyard had been purposefully crippled during the attack - it would be months before ships would be built there again.

The commander straightened his uniform and walked into the medbay.

There were officers down on the shipbuilding platform investigating what had happened with the survivors. Quite a lot of survivors. The TIE units had not been as lucky, taking heavy losses in the initial assault. The pilot here in the bacta tank -

Commander Valtross grimaced at the sight of her. Perhaps it would have been better for her to have died in the black, with the rest of her squadron. Still, the bacta was doing its work.

What is her name again? Ensign Cyer.

He stood in front of the tank, hands behind his back, and nodded at the 2-1B.

"You may speak to her, she is awake."

"Ah, fantastic. Uh, Ensign Cyer, apologies for disturbing your healing, but it is imperative that we gain as much intel as we can about the attack on the shipyards."

[Railla Cyer]

Railla balled up her fists slightly. The burned hand hurt to fully close, but the pain was refreshingly sobering.

"I understand." Her voice came through the vox with a coreward accent that she intentionally used to wash her Jelucani origins away. The man on the other side of the glass hadn't given a name, but she wasn't that fresh out of the academy. All it took was a glance at the commander bars on the jacket to understand what was happening.

"The station alert went up at the same time the shooting started. There was no perimeter warning. By the time we were in the hangar bay, it was already a combat zone."

[Bette Davis]

The commander looked around for a place to sit, but there wasn’t a convenient seat.

”You are on board the ISD Admonisher, and I am Commander Valtross,” he said belatedly. “We received the distress call from the shipyard but by the time we arrived the attackers were long gone. Your TIE was badly damaged in the fight. I was hoping you could shed some light on what ships were involved... tactics... anything?

”We are investigating the scene at the shipyard, but the outer defenses were practically demolished. We don’t think it was the Alliance - they’re not stupid enough to break the peace.”

He realized he was starting to ramble, and shut up, waiting for the pilot to speak.

[Railla Cyer]

"They weren't Alliance," Railla confirmed with clear certainty in her voice, "I'm not sure who they were at all. By the time my squadron had scrambled, the enemy was already boarded."

Railla wasn't looking at Commander Valtross now. Her eyes were focused on something that only existed in her head, making quick left-right motions as she intensely recollected the fight.

"They launched some kind of droid weapon platforms from a mother ship. We massed for a counteroffensive, but they..."

Her jawline tightened behind the mask as her eyebrows knit.

"Caught us in a crossfire at grid zero. Cut us to pieces."

[Bette Davis]

Valtross pulled up a picture on his padd, turning it around to face the baca tank.

”These droids, did they look anything like this?”

A large, animal-like droid with four legs was pictured on the padd. It bristled with weapons, and there was a small figure beside it for scale. It could probably carry two or three human-sized passengers with ease on its back.

From what they’d gathered from preliminary investigations, there was a chance these were invaders from the independent system of Mandalore. A stupid move from a (for the most part) quiet system, but there was no arguing with the armored beings the technicians were babbling about on the shipyard.

[Railla Cyer]

"That's them, I think."

Railla studied the image carefully, then closed her eyes.

"It was difficult to get a close look. Definitely four legs. Moved fluidly, like an animal. Not like an AT unit. The weapons look about the same, with head mounts for anti-fighter batteries."

[Bette Davis]

“What about the ships?”

Commander Valtross looked over his shoulder, surprised to see a red-haired female sitting on one of the medbeds. She stood up, smoothing her plain black uniform. No insignia or pips were visible, but he recognized her.

He narrowed his eyes at her intrusion, but turned to Ensign Cyer and nodded. “What can you tell us about the ships themselves?”

He had several images of ship types known to be used by the Mandalorians, ready for the Ensign to confirm, but held them in reserve.

[Railla Cyer]

The TIE pilot pored through her vivid memory, trying to filter the chaos and fresh fear to distill the dispassionate details. The stream of bubbles from her mask slowed slightly.

"Two ships. Corellian make. Corvettes maybe. No larger than frigate class. We didn't get a detailed commscan before the station's sensor array went out, so it was all on visual."

[Bette Davis]

"Corellian ships?" Valtross had been just about to hold up the padd to her eyeline again, but kept it tucked under his arm. The presence of Corellian ships didn't rule out the Mandalore system, but it wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Would you recognize them if you saw them again?" The red-haired agent took a step forward.

Commander Valtross pressed his lips into a hard line, but didn't interrupt. He'd been about to ask the same question.

[Railla Cyer]

Railla met Valtross's eyes, then diverted to the unfamiliar face in the room.

"I would recognize them."

[Bette Davis]

“Good, that’s good.” Valtross nodded. “Is there anything else you remember about the attack? Tactics, anything?”

He pursed his lips. “No detail is too small, Ensign.”

[Railla Cyer]

Railla tried to piece together anything material from the maelstrom in her memory.

"They hit the Golan platform first, striking the major gun emplacements in one sector. One of the frigates closed distance into that sector at ramming speed..."

Realization creased her face as she worked out the small amount she had seen and what disparate information she had from other sources.

"...to clear it from effective cover and open the shipyard to direct assault."

It was brazen and reckless. Some ships could properly reinforce to endure a carefully-timed ramming maneuver, but aside from those exceptions, it was exceedingly dangerous to do so. Still, one other thing struck her as odd.

"Aside from a pair of shuttles, I detected no other enemy contacts beyond the weapon platforms and the frigates. There was no fighter support."

[Bette Davis]

“They rammed the Golan?” Valtross blinked. “That explains why we found the wreckage orbiting the larger moon. Small mercies the raiders didn’t just shove it down to Ord Trasi proper.”

He shook his head at the mental image, and looked over his shoulder toward the agent.

She was gone.

Blasted Intelligence operatives, he thought, turning back to the ensign.

”You’ve got a little longer in the tank, Ensign, the OneBee will fill you in on that. We’re going to need you back in a cockpit sooner than the shrinks would like.” Valtross sighed. “It’s a hell of a thing to ask after ...but the Empire needs you to keep your head in the game.”

He couldn’t figure out how to extricate himself from the room. Saying dismissed was ridiculous when he was the one leaving.

”Carry on then, Cyer.” He nodded, and turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. The Captain was going to need to hear this information as soon as possible.

[Railla Cyer]

"Sir." She responded, as much a sound born of desperation as it was a farewell. Here she was caged and shut-in. A day might as well feel like ten years. She could hardly think about sleep having just come out of her stupor, and the dull ache in her body would've prevented it even if she tried.

Railla was left alone with Two-OneBee and her thoughts, ranging from the obsessive ordering of every scrap of memory from her last battle, to the feelings that she now had to face when the shooting was over. Now there was time to confront her rage, temper it, and focus it. That was what the Empire demanded. Comrades die, and those who carry on avenge them. She lived and breathed the philosophy in the academy. This wasn't the first time she'd lost a squadmate, but it was the first time she'd lost them wholesale. The difference was substantial. In the TIE Corps, you understood that the the formation was more vital than the individual. Now, Railla was a squadron of one.

She had a lot of time to think about it. Left alone, she did little else, her hands miming the actions of stick and throttle as she ached to return to flight.



The Next Day

The bacta had scarcely been dried away before Railla was back in her duty blacks. She was still sore, and her right hand was especially tender as she guided it into a flight glove. If it bothered her, she didn't mention a bit of it to Two-OneBee. Instead, the Ensign simply procured a nutritive from the rations cubby in the infirmary and promptly exited on her way to the flight deck.

[Bette Davis]

“Ensign Cyer!”

Behind her in the passage a red-faced ensign was jogging up. “I’m supposed to show you to your temporary quarters aboard the Admonisher.”

Coming up alongside her, he slowed down, held up a finger and caught his breath. After a moment he put his hand out to shake.

”I’m Ensign Kim. Please, this way?” He indicated the way he’d come, away from the starfighter bays.

[Railla Cyer]

At least with a fellow Ensign, Railla didn't have to roll over for rank. She ignored the offered hand, pushing a strand of curly hair that had escaped her cap away from threatening to encroach at her face.

"I'm just out of a bacta tank, and you want to give me quarters?" The Jelucani affectation in her voice rose, adding a twang to her vowels and sanding down the r's into vestigial things. "I'll have time to sleep when I'm dead! Where's the officer of the deck? I have to get on flight rotation!"

Behind Kim, Railla could see the racks of TIE fighters standing vigil in the vaulted hangar bay. She shifted her feet, cinching up her gloves with impatient energy. The fresh zap of pain from the raw skin of her hand helped to center her again.

[Bette Davis]

Ensign Kim gaped at her. “I’m sorry but these are my orders. And yours!”

He stood between her and the flight deck. “The fighter complement is full on the Admonisher. You’re only here because the shipyard is partially inoperable due to the attack. Please. This way?”

As he edged around, trying to keep her headed off, a woman in a flightsuit with a commander rank walked out of the hanger. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind an ear as she took in the scene in front of her.

”You must be Railla Cyer,” she said. Looking at Ensign Kim she narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle this, you’re dismissed.”

He sighed and walked away, leaving the two women in the passage. The commander looked Cyer over.

”I’m Commander Davis.”

[Railla Cyer]

"Ma'am." The inner rim properness returned to her speech in an instant.

She couldn't stand at attention in a bacta tank, but she could now. Instinctively she swiped the brim of her cap to push the edge down to her eyes before drawing into crisp posture. Commander Davis wasn't the Officer of the Deck, that was certain. From the cut of her flight suit, that meant squadron leader. What did it mean that Railla's name preceded her? She hoped it meant that sooner rather than later, she'd be on point again.

[Bette Davis]

“We’ve got a mission briefing together in a few hours, Ensign. I imagine that’s what he,” she peered down the passage at the retreating Kim, “was supposed to tell you.”

Bette recognized the look in the ensign’s eyes. She’d seen it in the mirror after Endor.

”What ships are you certified on, pilot?”

[Railla Cyer]

It took every ounce of willpower not to follow Commander Davis's eyes towards the retreating Ensign Kim. That certainly wasn't what Kim had said, and Railla suspected the Commander was countermanding things on the hoof. The very possibility of it quickened her pulse, but it was imperative that she dump ice water in her veins, and do it now.

"Ma'am, I'm combat rated on TIE/ln, TIE/IN, and TIE/sk. I have proficiency simulator rating on TIE/sa as well."

Cyer bit at her lip, lest she blurt out I can fly anything you need. It was more zeal than fact. But she was willing..

[Bette Davis]

“Excellent.” Just as her file says.

Bette tilted her head a bit. “Have you been to your temporary quarters yet? There’s some time before the briefing, and I don’t think you’re supposed to be just wandering around the ship. Can’t have you getting lost.” She winked at the younger woman, but didn’t get much of a response beyond a tightening of the lips.

”Ohh-kay. I was heading to the mess. Come on, you probably need something to eat that didn’t come through a tube.”

[Railla Cyer]

A visit to temporary quarters sounded dreadful, but a visit to the flight deck mess?

Despite her best efforts, Railla couldn't fully conceal the smile betraying her at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes ma'am."

She fell in, matching Commander Davis's pace. The Imperial military didn't exactly do cuisine, but from the moment you were a cadet onward, you generally learned to appreciate that texturized protein cubes were a pointed step up from liquid nutritives. Once you were in the Empress's service long enough, you even started to look forward to it.

Still, it was highly irregular to be invited by an officer to mess as a non-comm. Railla wondered what that meant. She wasn't about to beggar the question by requesting to speak candidly with the only person here that seemed interested in getting her back into the fight.

[Bette Davis]

Bette didn’t miss the twitch of a smile that passed over the ensign’s face. Maybe it was because she realized she was standing with the first female pilot in the starfighter corps. Bette got that sometimes, from other female pilots.

Not so much the men. A ghost of a rueful smile traced her lips at the thought.

She led the way to the mess, though as all ISDs were virtually the same inside Ensign Cyer could have easily found it herself if she’d ever been stationed on one before. There was no small talk on the way, which made the silence stretch and feel slightly awkward when Bette finally spoke.

”Have you ever flown a Defender, Ensign?”

[Railla Cyer]

And just before she could catch enough air to gain lift, she was grounded again. Railla's jawline tightened, and she begrudgingly gave a tidy shake of her head.

"No ma'am. I've run it in simulation, but..."

The Ensign chewed her words.

"I haven't yet rated for live flight hours."

Though the TIE Defender was well over a decade old, it was still held in begrudgingly stingy quantities. The odds of a TIE pilot meriting the chance at live flight hours in a Defender were slim. Especially slim if that pilot was stationed on a gun platform in the Outer Rim.

[Bette Davis]

“Just trying to get a handle on your capabilities.” Bette smiled tightly, and then they were passing into the mess hall.

She grabbed a prewrapped tray of food and took it to an empty table, popping the seal as she sat. The tray automatically heated the sections that needed to be warm, and she let it sit for a few minutes while it did its work.

[Railla Cyer]

It was a cryptic response that didn't clock whether she was coming or going, but Railla still bridled. A question like that, you only wanted to answer one way - Yes Ma'am. Still, this was the kind of thing a Commander probably already knew before singling out an Ensign, so she wondered what it all meant?

Railla repeated the rote routine of procuring chow. When you'd done it once, you'd done it a thousand times. Everything was uniform for a reason. She peeled away the lining from her ration tray, letting the heating element do its work before returning her attention to Commander Davis once more.

"Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?"

[Bette Davis]

This should be interesting.

Bette picked up her utensil and poked at the brown meat-like protein cubes. “Permission granted, Ensign.”

She licked the sauce off the end of her utensil and put it down, picking up the roll of bread and breaking it open. The ensign could talk, but she was going to eat.

[Railla Cyer]

"We're going after the people who did this, right?"

Railla was calm in her expression and tone, but she was white-knuckling her utensils.

"That's what this is about, right? I want to be back out there, in the fight. I don't want to be debriefed only to be put back in the bottom of someone's flight roster. Not without making someone pay for this."

[Bette Davis]

Bette chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before replying.

”I hear a lot of I want in that, Ensign. Revenge, is that it? Is that what you want?”

She took a bite, and spoke around it as she ate. “Th’ Empire doesn’t work like that. We’re not here because a baby pilot got her ass handed to her in a fight, we’re here because a shipyard was raided by an unknown party. We follow orders. Chain of command.”

Bette sipped her water, meeting Cyer’s eyes.

”You keep running hot like you are, you’re going to go right off the rails.” She was looking at the younger woman sternly. Bette couldn’t show sympathy for how Cyer was feeling - the girl needed to hold it together for a day or two, then she could sit with a shrink and work out her survivors guilt in a safe way.

[Railla Cyer]

She could feel heat in her ears from Commander Davis's no-nonsense appraisal. She couldn't offer a suitable rebuttal or defense, so she took her frustration out on her chow, spearing a few protein cubes in quick, efficient bites. It allowed her to momentarily break eye contact and reflect on what the Commander said. Even in her anger, there was selfishness. The Empire doesn't work like that.

"Two days ago, everything made sense. I knew my place in my squadron, I knew my role in the formation. I knew exactly how I contributed."

Her pace had slowed, and now Railla was pushing a cube on her plate along with her fork.

"Now I'm an after-action debrief in a bacta tube. My squadmates died, and I didn't. That's what I've got to give to the Empire, but I know I can do more."

[Bette Davis]

"You'll get a new squadron," said Bette, matter-of-factly. "Your contribution continues, because you survived. It may sound callous, but if you think you're the only person on this ship, let alone the entire navy, who ever lost friends in battle then you're severely mistaken. Either you manage to pick yourself up and move on, or you'll wash out."

Bette eyed Cyer, seeing a little fire behind her sad eyes. "I don't think you're the kind who washes out, Ensign. And in a few hours you'll see why we need you to get your head in the game right now, today."

She picked up her empty tray, every bit of food scraped clean, and got to her feet.

"Take the time between now and the briefing in," Bette checked her chrono, "two hours, to get straight. Your temporary quarters would be a good place to do that. If you wander the passages for two hours or barge into the flight deck it'll be a bad look. Like someone who doesn't know what she's doing here.

"We're going to be in the main briefing room. And I think Ensign Kim is still lurking around and he'll know where your quarters are."

Bette nodded to Cyer and made her way out of the mess hall, dumping her tray in the reclaimer.

[Railla Cyer]

* * *


It turned out to be good advice. The Commander had left Railla to dispatch the rest of her chow, and she'd quickly tracked down Ensign Kim afterwards to get directions to her assigned quarters...which weren't much. Then again, it was a pilot's berth, so she was used to not much. A bed, a locker, a small table with a lamp, and a holo projector.

Two hours was barely enough to nap, and she was too keyed up to do it. Instead, Railla lay on the bed and simply activated the holo. The only authorized feed was state-run Imperial HoloNet, which kept the content fairly dry. There were news reports of a few pacification operations underway, an announcement about a gala hosted by Empress Tarkin to take place in a month, and the usual recruitment drive holos. Railla eased off her cap, setting it on her pillow as she gingerly eased her burned hand out of its glove. She was only half paying attention to the holo when something familiar crossed her vision.

Not something, someone

In between a panning shot of cadets in formation and a bumper reel of TIE fighters in parade formation was a very familiar TIE pilot.

"Shit." Railla bleated in naked Jelucani accent, driving both of her hands against her forehead in shame.

"Shit!"

Commander Davis as in Commander Bette "Shooter" Davis. How had she been so self-absorbed and stupid?? Railla flung back against the mattress, drawing curly locks of hair over her eyes like a curtain. This was her moment. This right here. If she wanted to make a difference and wanted to catch someone's attention, there probably wouldn't be a better time.

I hear a lot of 'I want' in that, Ensign.

The rebuke still cut, and Railla frowned at it. But she still couldn't ignore the feeling in her gut. I have more to offer than this. If she was going to do her duty and truly serve the Empire, she was going to have to figure out how to be her own advocate in the process.

[Bette Davis]

Bette stood at the front of the briefing room, waiting for the rest of the Shadow Squadron pilots to file in. The room filled up with eleven established pilots, and Railla Cyer was there as well.

She looked a little more put together than she had a few hours earlier.

Bette switched on the holo projector.

”Okay, lets get this briefing underway. As you all know, Ord Trasi was hit by an unknown assailant two standard days ago.”

The holo projector displayed the shipyard as it had been, and then she switched it to how it was now.

“All signs point to this being an attack from the Mandalore system. Our mission is to fly in there and take a look around. You all know your wing assignments - Ensign Cyer you’ll be my wingman for this assignment. You’re the only survivor who saw the ships that attacked. If we can locate them with the Mandalorians then the brass will send in the big guns.”

[Railla Cyer]

Before, the woman at the podium been a Commander with a possible lifeline to throw her way. Now? She was Commander Bette Davis of Shadow Squadron, summoning her by name for a joint assignment. Railla was thankful for the severe cant of her officer's cap, obscuring how wide her eyes were at this whole encounter. Shadow Squadron were the aces of aces, the best the Empire had to offer. If she had more to offer the Empire, it was time for Railla to prove it. Because if she didn't, this kind of opportunity didn't happen twice. Putting a name to the proverbial face of the Enemy dumped some ice water in her veins. Mandalorians. If ever any race of beings carried a reputation that preceded them, the masked warriors of Mandalore fit the description. They'd been warriors almost as long as there had been wars. They were even rumored to be as ancient as the Jedi were. Of course, if history was worth anything, it offered plenty of evidence they could be beaten. And now, Commander Bette Davis of Shadow Squadron was giving her that chance.

"Yes ma'am."

She was relieved that her voice came out in her borrowed coreward accent. It was a survival tactic she'd learned early on at Skystrike Academy. Officers might not admit they had a coreward bias, but Railla saw it early as a child, and how her father had learned to survive. Besides, that was the whole point of it, wasn't it? Everyone came from ten million worlds with ten million different ways of doing everything. For the Empire to work, everyone had to work to conform to an ideal. That meant that every day, she'd learned to pack up and leave Jelucan far away. It was easier some days, and harder on others. But she'd be damned if she was going to stand before Shadow Squadron and not project the image of an elite Imperial pilot. After all, Jelucan was the least of things in the current she was swimming against.

[Bette Davis]

Tod Marr raised his hand. Probably a first, in a briefing.

"Yes?" Bette leveled a stare at him.

"Uh, sorry Shooter, just wondering, how are we going to find two ships in an entire system?"

"Good question. Here -" she reached over and selected a section of the holo, enlarging it, "is one of the Mandalorians' task groups. These are scattered along the border of the system. There are different clans among the Mandos but they all work together to keep us out, so each group here, and here," more sections of the map lit up, "are led by different clan leaders but all report to their head, Mandalore.

"They have a bit of a headstart on us, but we don't think they've gone far - yes, Maniac, what is it?"

Tod put down his hand again, ruffling his fingers through his shock-blue hair. "Do we have permission to go over the border?"

Bette smiled tightly. "We'll be flying Defenders to the system, but staying out of it. Officially. Unofficially, and by that I mean these orders are highly classified, if we see these sons of bitches we get to take them down. They got away with a gravity well generator and more than a handful of starfighters. If the Mandalorians are trying to make a push outside of their system, perhaps with Taris or Bandomeer... The Empire is going to have something to say about that.

"So. Defenders." She focused again on the system map. "We're running a scouting party. And if I deem it necessary we'll have Captain Ragnus bring the Admonisher and all of Blood Fang task group down on them."

Bette looked at each of the pilots in the room. "Any other questions?"

[Railla Cyer]

"How many of our ships were confirmed stolen?"

Confidential mission dossiers had been passed around the briefing room, and Railla broke her attention from the datapad to ask a straightforward clarification. They may have no idea the concentration of force waiting for them near the Mandalore system, but the war booty was a known quantity. While she hadn't flown them, Railla knew the specs and the space-avionic profile of the Incom I-7 Howlrunner about as well as she could from the books. Fast, shielded, and a low combat profile. What they lacked in firepower they made up for with elusiveness.

Still, that wasn't the threat they needed to be the most mindful of. The gun platforms were still only a partially-known mystery. And she'd been the only survivor.

[Bette Davis]

Bette checked the notes. "Fifteen Howlrunners, three Skipray Blastboats."

"What about the, what are they called, Basilisk droids?" Ensign Fairfield looked up from the datapad in his hand. "We don't have specs on them."

"We're not likely to just run into them, but yes, these are a design used by the Mandalorians. Not totally unknown, but certainly not common. They pack a whallop, as Ensign Cyer can unfortunately attest." Bette met Railla's eyes for a moment, then moved on. "Since they're highly customized it's hard to say what an individual would be capable of. They usually have a rider or two, but even if you kill the rider the Basilisk are a weapons platform built on top of a semi-intelligent droid frame and they will keep fighting.

"You see one, you shoot the hell out of it, is that clear Shadow 11?"

"Yes sir," said Fairfield, narrowing his eyes down at the datapad again.

Bette traced the hyperspace jumps needed to reach the Mandalore system. "According to our data, this is the most reliable way from here to Mandalore, and the likely route our raiders have taken. This, however," she traced a different route, "is shorter. This is the one we're taking. And we can do it because we'll be traveling in small starfighters, so we can skim closer to some of these gravity wells than the big capital ships can.

"Admonisher is taking the long route. But we should arrive at the border just a little bit after our raiders. If they're there, we should be able to find them." She looked at the squadron. "Dismissed to the flight deck."

[Railla Cyer]

Railla tried not to look like a wet-eared academy cadet at the sight of TIE Defenders set upon their prep racks in the flight deck. She'd logged a good amount of time in simulation with a Defender, but climbing into a sim pod was a pale shadow next to climbing into the real thing. The triple array of concave panel wings gave the ship a considerably wider profile than other TIE fighters she'd flown. But it didn't end there. The cockpit pod sat forward of the ion engines, shield generator, and the hyperdrive, giving the ship a robust fuselage for a TIE. She knew that even with that added room, the Defender sported an unprecedented amount of complex system miniaturization to enable everything it needed to fit in the chassis. And if she didn't know it before, she absolutely knew it when reviewing her assigned fighter's pre-flight checks.

Dropping down from the ingress catwalk on the deployment rack, Railla nimbly moved from strut to panel, inspecting systems to confirm they were in good working order. She confirmed the ion thrust gimbals had their full range of motion. She made certain the cluster missiles, ion cannons, and laser cannons were locked, loaded, and zeroed. Try as she might, Railla couldn't quite wipe the smile off her face. Any opportunity to fly was a good one, but this was an opportunity like she'd never had before. Even without the stakes in play, she was still about to take a Defender into the black.

It almost didn't occur to Railla to look to her left. If she did, she'd see Commander Davis doing the very same ritual with her own ship.

[Bette Davis]

Once pre-flight checks were done Bette settled into the cockpit of Maneater, her TIE Defender, and pulled on her crashwebbing. Securing her helmet she linked into the comm, setting it to voice activation.

”This is going to be a bumpy transit, Shadows, stay sharp.” She set the navicomp for a tandem jump, effectively slaving the squadrons’ hyperdrives to her command.

The squadron streamed out of the Admonisher, separating into wings and shooting away from Ord Trasi. Cyer stuck by Bette’s side, maintaining proper wingman position.

Once they had reached safe distance, Bette started the countdown and the Shadows winked out of the system.

[Railla Cyer]

There was always the giddy/sickening feeling the moment the helmet went on. You felt dampened and cut off from the outside. The only things you could hear were the steady positive pressure of the rebreather and the pulsing thump of blood pushing in your ears. Railla keyed up the preflight sequence, feeling her grav couch vibrate as the ion power plant spooled up. She quickly cycled through systems checks - green green green. Weapons online. Shield generator ready. Sublight and Hyperdrive ready. As she waited for her turn to deploy on the rack, Railla pivoted her thrust nozzles and flaps to their extent, ensuring the range of motion she expected. A loud clacking sound timed with a juddering from above as Railla watched Commander Davis's Defender deploy from the rack and push ahead on ion drive.

The Officer of the Deck signaled from down below. Her turn now.

"SK-4202, now deploying."

The green light flashed on her HUD, and a split second of weightlessness signaled the release from the rack. Railla pushed the throttle ahead gently, and sailed through the atmospheric shielding. As the rest of Shadow Squadron formed up on the leader, Railla licked her lips to moisten them against the dry recycled air. A part of her wanted ten minutes of open sky with her new fighter to push everything to the limit. No, a more sober thought overrode her desire. You have your training and your discipline. Follow them.

"I'm on your wing, Shadow Leader. Standing by."

With the hyperdrive coordinates locked for the squadron, the fighters began to jump in sequence. In a snap, they were gone.

[Bette Davis]

Twelve TIE Defenders reverted to realspace, taking a moment to orient themselves in their new spacial position. Bette spoke over the comm as they headed toward the border with the neutral region.

"Sensors on full, we want to find any ships in the area. We don't have sensor data on our raiders but we have an eyewitness so we're going to have to get a visual. That clear?"

A round of affirmatives came through the comm, and Bette ordered a spread formation, splitting into pairs as they followed along the border of Mandalorian space.

[Railla Cyer]

The pace of Railla's breathing had picked up the moment they dropped into realspace. This was the smallest ship she'd ever experienced a hyperjump in. The simulations could only partially mirror the weird sensation of your stomach flipping over your toes. A moment later, it was gone. Railla redoubled her grip on the yoke, shimmying slightly on her gravity couch to shake any lingering butterflies. When the order came for formation shift, she was on it, gliding ahead of Shooter at 02 low. That gave Railla tip of the spear line of sight to make the ID, and allowed Shadow Leader a perfect reactive position if needed.

"Setting sensor screen to maximum."

The resource allocation minimized distribution to shields and weapons, while keeping engines hot. That should buy enough time to deal with any problems when and if they showed up.

[Bette Davis]

"Shadow Leader I got something, sending coordinates. Looks like a task group of some kind." Jackal's voice came over the comm.

Shadows Nine and Ten were the furthest from her, and Bette painted their sighting onto her HUD. "Are they Mandalorian ships, or something else?"

"Looks like Mandos, sir. Ma'am. Couple of frigates and support ships. Could be our raiders?"

"Let's go find out. Shadows, form up on Nine and Ten, two wings so we can pincer if we need to." Bette clicked to just speak with Cyer. "Rails, I'm following you, so get us over there and tell me what you see."

[Zachariah Jak'el]

"Affirmative."

Pulling his yoke to the side, Zach angled his TIE/d out of the formation, and half the wing split up right behind him as he took point on the second group leaving Shooter and the newbie on the other.

Reaching without looking he rubbed the little metal half-moon pendant that hung from his instrument panel; it's face long tarnished and worn by repeated touching.

"Shiraya, if'n your listening ma'am. Things could get real dicey here. If you could, watch over me and my squadron. 'specially Shooter. She likes to get herself into trouble. Guide us all safely home. Amen."

[Railla Cyer]

"On vector, Shadow Leader. I have point."

Railla pitched in full sublights, feeling the acceleration feather slightly in the cockpit. This far from stellar bodies, there wasn't much to visually mark time, save for the occasional passing of space dust. The seconds dragged far longer than they should on her chrono, leaving her with nothing but the hum of her twin ion engines and the sound of the rebreather in her ears.

A handful of moments longer and Railla's sensor suite pinged to confirm distant contacts. Her breath quickened as she pored over the feed on her scopes.

"It's..."

A hesistation. She swallowed hard.

"It's not them."

Her cheeks burned, and Railla squeezed the yoke until her leather gloves creaked.

"Negative copy, Shadow Leader. Target not confirmed."

[Bette Davis]

"Are you certain? We're still pretty far out."

Bette accelerated, taking point from the other pilot. "Follow me, I'll get you close enough to read the freckles off the captain's ass. Shadows, I want you to swarm these Mando pricks, but do not fire unless fired upon. We're just doing a flyby."

She switched to an open channel. "Attention Mandalorian ships, you have strayed into Imperial space. We will escort you back to your sector. Please power down your weapons or you will be met with deadly force."

It was all bullshit, of course. The task group was on their own side of the border by about a klick, but her confidence over the comm could be enough to sow some confusion. In the meantime the Shadows were closing in on visual range, the outer lighting on the Mando frigates' hulls illuminating them in the black.

Bette flew confidently into Mandalorian neutral space, Rails on her four, and rapidly closed in on the ships. Five of them, three frigate sized and two smaller support craft. Their transponders stopped transmitting, and the Mando ships began to move, spreading out into a defensible position as the twelve Defenders screamed toward them.

"Looks like they want to play," Bette said over the comm. "Weapons lock only, do not fire until fired upon. And don't get yourselves killed, that's an order. Rails, are you positive these aren't our ships?"

[Zachariah Jak'el]

As the Commander shot out ahead of the other ships, Zach pushed forward the throttle on his own TIE as he fought to catch up and set the example for the rest of his line. As the Mandalorian ships became more visible he could not help but feel like a sneaky Narglatch stalking through the swamp before stumbling on to a Zalaaca. They were out in the open now, the brush left behind, and all they had left against the larger predator was to roar defiantly and hope to scare the other away; or goad it into combat. Zach had spent enough time around the Gungan swamps to know that the Zalaaca usually came out on top of that confrontation.

This felt like suicide, but it was hard not to get swept up in Shooter's bravado.

Pulling his yoke gently to the side he increased the width between his column and the other. There were larger ships in the Mandalorian group and a wider pinch would be needed hit them while also decreasing the chance that one turbolaser round takes out half the squadron. The blips on his radar confirmed that the others were splaying out with him. Cycling his target lock through the ships he settled on the closest of the frigates. The smaller support craft were much less of an immediate threat. That was like saying the biggest of a pride of Tusk Cats were the most dangerous. They are all dangerous.

They were looking at a lot of firepower and armor to deal with.

"Ready and waiting."

[Railla Cyer]

"Come on Railla, you're better than that." She chastised herself with the line closed, shaking her head.

Even if that meant getting too close for comfort, they couldn't leave it to instruments alone. She pushed her throttle to match Bette's acceleration, spearheading towards the frontier with eyes up. Once her speed was locked, her hand hovered over the systems allocation controls, ready at a moment's notice to transfer power to engines and weapons.

The Mandalorian ships were beginning to adjust course for a combat formation. Even if they didn't ID, the Mandos might end up being a problem anways. As they grew in her canopy, Railla looked for any familiar sign. These ships weren't Corellian. More than that, the distinctive hammer-prow of the ship she'd seen wasn't here.

"Visual ID is also negative, Shadow Leader." Railla replied crisply, tightening a hand on the stick. "Orders?"

[Bette Davis]

Well, that’s disappointing.

Bette didn’t waver, leading the Shadows directly at the Mandalorians. “Continue the flyby. If they blink go for disabling shots only. Otherwise let’s swing wide and get back to our side of the border.”

[Zachariah Jak'el]

It was a tense moment as they swung around the Mandalorian fleet, his eyes never leaving the viewport for a moment. Eyes locked. Ready for something. Anything. Movement. Weapons firing. Klaxons sounding in his ears. Bette screaming commands over the comms. That abrupt cutoff and static blast you get when a wingmate explodes mid-sentence.

But. Nothing.

They whistled past, so close he could see the silhouettes of humanoids in the viewports of the Mandalorian ships. It wasn't until they started coming around the other side that he finally allowed himself to release the breath he'd been holding in. They weren't out of the Zalaaca den just yet, but they could see daylight from here and heck was it warm and inviting.

[Railla Cyer]

The moment they passed the frigates, Railla exhaled her pent-up breath.

It was relief short-lived. Her instruments flashed angrily.

"Shadow Leader, six marks at ten ahead, coming out of the moon's Lagrangean point!"

Her hands tightened again at her stick, and Railla could feel the gentle sway of the defender's responsive controls.

"Mandalorian Fang fighters. They're accelerating to attack speed."

[Bette Davis]

“I see them. Wings One and Two, be ready to engage the Fangs. Wing Three I need you on those capital ships - once we’ve exchanged fire with the fighters go for their offensive hard points and engines. Do not take unnecessary risks.” Bette had to speak quickly as the Fangs were rapidly closing in.

Leading Wing One while Two split from both sides of their existing pincer formation to swarm around to the backside of the enemy fighters, Bette tightened her hands on the yoke. The Fangs were small and nimble but they were no match for the sheer speed of the Defenders. Their advance on the Imperial starfighters was rapidly becoming a game of chicken as neither side seemed willing to take the first shot.

The Mandos blinked first.

Blue laser fire lanced out from the leading Fang and Bette grinned. “Weapons free. Fire at will.”

The Shadows, their targets already picked as they had closed the distance, opened fire.

[Zachariah Jak'el]

Steady. Steady. Steady...

Sensors screamed warnings of incoming fire long before his eyes could even see the pinpricks of blue energy lancing out from the Mandalorian Fang Fighters. The moment that sound hit his ears he threw his yoke so hard in the opposite direction that his wrist screamed vibrating agony. Immediately his TIE/d turned upwards and rolled to it's side, spinning like a top as he oriented himself blindly with only the large blips on his sensors to guide him. The acceleration pushed him back into his seat, his eyes fighting to stay open against the pull, until he came out the other end facing straight at the frigates. Even as he fell forward into his crash webbing he could feel the dizziness trying to set in, the nausea of a mind lost in space. He couldn't give it more than a second of respite before he punched that accelerator again.

Zach wasn't about to give those frigates any time to shoot. The distance was closing fast, and by the time they finally started firing he was already on top of them. One panic volley sailed over their heads. The Shadows knew to dodge just enough to miss. No sense if giving away the full extent of your mobility.

"Wing three, scatter... now!"

Anticipating the next turbolaser volley, the Defenders split apart, leaving the space between them empty for the massive energy beams to pass through.

"Within firing range. Group up and focus fire on those turbolaser batteries. Follow my lead."

Pulling back the yoke, he angled his Defender up from below to face the batteries directly, and rammed his finger against the trigger as hard as he could. For the moment all he could hear was the scream of TIE engines and the Reereeereeree of quad-linked SFS L-s9.3 laser cannons. Eight more streams of plasma joined his. The shields stood about as much chance as a Dukduk beetle in a hurricane. As soon as an explosion billowed out into space they turned their fire on the edge of the next battery on their trajectory and smoked that one too before they came around the side of the frigate and circled around the top; flying too close for them to do much of anything.

"Stick to 'em like mud. Loop around the tail and slingshot around the port side. Let's hit those other cannons 'fore he blow these engines out like birthday candles."

[Railla Cyer]

Railla kept pace with Shadow Leader, dumping her throttle to close the distance on the fang fighters. The Mandalorian ships began to rapidly spin on their axis as they fired, creating a volumetric field of fire to give them the best chance at landing a shot on target. Railla remembered her simulator training, keying her deflectors augment front. But a TIE pilot knew the best defense was often a good offense. She squeezed the trigger on her four linked laser cannons, similarly filling the sky for her unshielded enemy. As she dove down on a pair of fangs to the point she could nearly see the pilots in their cockpits, Ensign Cyer saw blaster shots splash on one of the Mandalorians' wings, blossoming into a wreath of carbon scoring.

There wasn't any time to dwell on the fact since she was rocketing ahead at full throttle. Railla grit her teeth and wrenched her fighter into a Koiogran turn, amazed at how quickly her Defender dampened the inertial shift. Her engines spooled half a second, then screamed in pursuit of the fighters she had previously overshot. With blood in the water, Railla stayed firmly on the wounded ship, burning space around it as she pursued.

[Bette Davis]

"Rails, since you've only flown in sims, just follow me and pick off what ..." Bette's voice trailed off as the green pilot shot off after a pair of Fangs. "...what I leave behind." She clicked off the comm.

"Fuck!" Bette yanked the yoke around, spinning her Defender to follow Ensign Cyer and laying on the trigger liberally, scoring a glancing shot off a Fang that the ensign was about to fly past. As Rails executed a turn to come up behind the Mandos, Bette split neg-X pos-Y, coming up and around to fall in beside her wingman.

She toggled the comm. "Going somewhere, Ensign?" she said dryly. "Generally you want to stick with your wingman if you can. You know. Take these two out, I'll swing wide to clean up any leftovers."

[Zachariah Jak'el]

"This frigate has lateral hardpoints, stay on top and bottom and we'll be fine. Incoming fire!"

Jerking his yoke to the side, Zach took his wingmates warning to heart and pulled to the side just as heavy turbolaser rounds skimmed over the top of the frigate so close it rippled it's shields and scattered his sensors for a moment. Looking across the bow of the frigate he could see another one had lined up to fire across the hull of it's brother to account for it's blindspots.

"Wing 3, status?"

"Green."

"Green."

"I lost a wing. I'm alright."

"Let's get those engines."

Rotating around the frigate from it's top to it's bottom, Zach lead the charge away from the belly, heading straight downward so that they would continue to avoid the limited range of the remaining turbolasers. It was rotating above them, trying to get that range, and they moved in kind until they were just far enough away to pull back up for a steep climb, angling for those engine cones. Pot shots from the other frigates flew by, but they clearly had never tried to shoot down TIE/D's before. Each time he saw the telltale wink of incoming plasma they hit the throttle harder and sped away.

"Torpedoes cycle on mark... mark!" One after the other each ship fired a proton torpedo, the first hit the shields hard, wobbling the energy field before the second blew it completely out of place and the third connected with the engine cones, blasting them open for the forth to fly right into the cracked surface, causing a bright explosion that the TIE's skimmed the edges of, using the plume of fire and venting atmo to hide their movements as they circled around and headed for the second frigate, that was maneuvering to cover the first. The third frigate was no where to be seen. Risking his life as incoming energy beams lanced through the inky void, Zach checked his sensors for the missing frigate.

"Shadow Leader, one of the frigates has broken off and is heading to assist the starfighters."

[Railla Cyer]

"Going somewhere, Ensign?" she said dryly. "Generally you want to stick with your wingman if you can. You know. Take these two out, I'll swing wide to clean up any leftovers."

As much as Railla felt properly chastized for a moment of impetuous instinct, she still couldn't help the smile on her face hidden by her helmet. This kind of speed and vector changing agility felt good. No, good was too sterile. Amazing. The simulations couldn't quite approximate that rush.

"Copy, Shadow Leader."

The fangs realized she'd jumped them. To their credit, the Mandalorians cut sharply in opposing directions, forcing Railla to make a choice. An informed choice, as the Ensign caught the ghost edges of Bette's contrails in the stellar dust, hooking to three point one. Railla quickly snapped into pursuit of the undamaged fighter turning hard port. It left her back open to the damaged fang if it hooked into a tallon roll, but Bette was in a great position to hunt it if it did.

Railla poured on her speed, spitting linked cannon fire at the retreating fighter's narrow profile. The mandalorian danced expertly, making it a difficult shot to take. Still, when you're at the enemy's back, you're usually not taking shots. Railla took the opportunity to dial her targeting computer into a locking sequence.

[Bette Davis]

Railla Cyer seemed to be getting the hang of her Defender, hooking around to follow one of the Fangs as they split up, leaving one for Bette. It was already damaged, and gutsy enough to roll in to try to catch Rails from behind.

Shooter dispatched it quickly, rolling Maneater to follow the ensign as comms chatter filled her cockpit.

"Shadow Leader, one of the frigates has broken off and is heading to assist the starfighters."

"That's our cue, one last strafing run and we're bugging out." Bette kept following Rails, giving her a chance to take out the Fang she was hunting before pulling the plug.

[Railla Cyer]

The Mandalorian picked up speed, forcing Rails to pour it on to maintain the pursuit. In the straightaway, nothing the fang could do would overtake her. The problem was...

"Krasst, I've overshot!"

The fang pinwheeled into a sharp turn, its wings snapping sharply around its fuselage as Railla blasted past at full burn. But just when she overtook, her targeting computer chirped a lock. Railla gritted her teeth, diving into another koiogran turn until she caught a glimpse of white thrusters. A homing missile hissed out of her ordnance pod, knifing the space between them. The fang tried to juke the lock, lost too much ground, and got clipped. The ship lurched to the port - possibly due to stabilizer damage before Railla speared it with fatal cannon fire. She rocketed through the fireball in time to catch a glimpse of Bette passing the other way.

"Splash one, Shadow Leader! Matching vector and falling in."

No one could see the smile on her face, and that suited Railla just fine.

[Bette Davis]

Strafing run complete, the squadron arrowed away from Mandalorian space, Defenders screaming toward the jump point before blinking out of realspace in wing groups.

The journey back was spent in silence, Bette already working up her action report on her computer. At the Admonisher the Shadows streamed into the docking bay, slotting their TIEs into their cradles.

[Railla Cyer]

The leftover adrenaline bled away in the solace of lightspeed, and Railla came down from her pilot's high to face the truth of things. The mission wasn't a failure, but it led to inconclusive results. Those Mandos they'd shot up were probably guilty of numerous crimes against the Empire, but the chief crime that had earned them a death mark was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That rang hollow to the Jelucani pilot, who wanted justice.

By the time they'd returned to Admonisher, Railla had fully sobered up from the excitement. She queued into approach, following Commander Davis through the hangar to rack her fighter. A quick moment to cycle the cooldowns, and she was out of her cockpit. While the directive to TIE Corps pilots to keep their helmets on when in the hangar had become less rigidly enforced through the years, Railla followed that particular stricture now, if only to keep others from seeing her ambivalent expression.

[Bette Davis]

Bette slowed down so the ensign would have to walk by, and fell in beside her.

"You did good out there, kid. Not many pilots can pick up flying a Defender that quickly from just sim practice." She paused, searching for words. "We'll get them eventually. The reach of the Empire is long, and packs a hell of a punch once it finds its target."

[Zachariah Jak'el]

"My first time out I clipped the whole dang dorsal wing off on a finicky asteroid."

After the quiet trip in the silence of his cockpit, alone with the good book, his thoughts, and his prayers; Zach was eager to get back to talking again. Ever a stickler for the rules himself, his helmet remained tight on his neck, but that did not stop him from emoting by dragging two fingers across the "mouth" of his helmet. The closest thing they got to smiling with the dang blasted things on.

"You're a honest to goodness Holpuck Podamandus Wizart by comparison. Playin' that TIE like the sweetest ommni box. Real pleasure, partner."

Nodding his head a few more times than was necessary, he tipped his helmet to Bette and then followed after the others.

[Railla Cyer]

Before Railla could be buoyed too much by Commander Davis's words, one of the other pilots said, well, something. Again, she was lucky to have a helmet on to keep hidden the fact that her mouth had gaped. She checked her helmet's passive hud, which identified the pilot as SP-8914. And here she'd been put out of sorts by her Jelucani accent when near coreward Imperials. SP-8914 sounded like he was barely speaking basic at all. It had all blended into the cosmic radiation during the dogfight, but now that they were well out of the fight, the jargon stood out like a sore thumb.

"A Holpa-what?"

Flummoxed, Railla watched him go, then glanced back to Bette.

"What language is SP-8914 speaking?"

One thing was for certain: Shadow Squadron definitely didn't mind flouting the rule book on occasion. For someone who took pains to make certain everything she did passed official inspection muster, this was probably going to take some getting used to.

[Bette Davis]

Bette, who was absolutely not wearing her flight helmet anymore, it was dangling from her hand, narrowed her eyes at Ensign Cyer. “Ensign Jak’el is from the backside of Naboo. They definitely mangle the language but I assure you he’s earned his spot in my squadron.”

The unspoken reprimand being that Cyer was not a member of Shadow Squadron, she was only on this mission because of her position as an eye witness.

Bette lengthened her stride as much as she could, even though she was shorter than either of the other pilots. “Get some rest, I’m sure the higher ups will have more for us to do soon.”

[Railla Cyer]

Properly chastised, Railla's posture stiffened as she gave a crisp nod.

"Yes ma'am."

Only when Commander Davis had left her behind did Railla stand at ease, sighing where no one could hear. This had been a day of stratospheric highs and lows. Maybe the Commander was right. The best thing for her to do was to get some rack, sleep it off, and start the day fresh.

Tomorrow was certain to be interesting.