The Battle of Bakura (Rogues, Shadows)

Flight Commander Bette Davis popped a pill into her mouth and washed it down with a swallow of water. The mess was nearly deserted as breakfast had been over for about ten minutes. The cooks were slugging it out in the kitchen (one of five on the Termagant) washing dishes and throwing out uneaten powdered eggs.

She'd only been able to stomach one look at the runny, chunky excused for scrambled eggs before she'd retreated to a solitary table with a glass of water and some toast. The toast was gone now, as were her squadron mates. Bette fingered her second pill and checked the chrono. About two hours before they came out of hyperspace above Bakura. It was a standard diplomatic mission, yada yada yada, and Captain Kellison was all puffed up like a nuna bird in mating season over the privledge of escorting the Ambassador to Bakura.

The plan was to re-open relations with the quietly neutral system, and the end goal was for more raw materials with which to construct weapons of war. Bette placed the little white pill on her tongue and lifted her glass - only to be interrupted by a familiar voice.

"COMMANDER DAVIS!"

He certainly looked out place in the mess hall. Generally, officers dined in their own hall in a different part of the ship, disdaining putting themselves down on the same level as the troops they commanded, thinking that it would erode their command position.

But not Kellison. He made it a habit to dine with troops, a practice that raised many eyebrows among his subordinates. After all, they needed his guidance, his wisdom. They needed to know that he was more than a commander. He was more like a father figure. Someone they could look up to and emulate. True they didn't have the talents he was born with, but perhaps he could do little things to help them achieve more in their lives.

"Commander, we are mere hours away from one the most important moments of my career and I come here to find one of the people under my command...popping PILLS, like some sort of Simplasian speed addict. Haven't I told you about the dangers of drugs? They may seem like the easy answer, but they're not. Look at me. I've never done drugs in my life and look at where it's gotten me."

Bette's eyes widened and she choked the painkiller down without water. She stood up abruptly and saluted. "With all due respect, sir, I am taking regulation pain medication for a headache."

After gaining a command Lucky had gone from bad to worse. Before he'd just been an anal retentive hard case, looking for things to be wrong and yelling about them. A few months with his own Star Destroyer had changed him into something ultimately more frightening.

For one thing, he thought that he deserved the command, which he didn't because he'd only gotten it because during the confusion after Endor someone had signed his temporary promotion into reality. Someone... stupid. Bette kept a cheery smile on her face. Kellison had also gotten it into his head that the best way to lead was to become everyone's friend, or something. Meal times were tense whenever he chose your mess to eat in, because that anal retentive side was still very much active.

"Permission to leave to prep for the mission, sir?"

Aliya was chowing down her own meal far from the wrath of Captain Moody. She had the unfortunate pleasure of eating with him once and got to listen to the Kellison is a wonderful leader crap show. She ate her food in a record seven minutes, though paid with indigestion later. Rolling around in space with the G-forces was NOT a fun feeling.

Looked like her flight commander was getting chewed out for no reason again. She never understood why the Captain hated Bette so much. The woman was a damn fine pilot and loyal as hell. He never gave her that much grief so it wasn't a sex issue. Man must have a pole up his rear that spelled Davis.

She threw her tray away and discreetly wedged her way between the two of them, saluting the Captain as was proper. "Captain," and turned towards Bette, "Commander. We really need you down at the hangar. I got this frelled up call about our weapon computers fritzed to hell and our wing links went flat."

Aliya grabbed Bette by the arm and started to drag her off, "I'm so sorry, Captain. If we don't get our TIE's ready, we're going to be late for the escort. Don't want that happening, Sir!"

She darted them around the corner briskly, keeping an eye behind her for the Captain incase he followed, being suspicious like he normally was. Once they entered the tube, she let go of Bette. "Geesh, Shooter. What the hell was that about back there with Lucky?"

"Headache meds." She pulled the pill canister from her coveralls and rattled it. "If I could just be alone with him for a minute..." Bette trailed off, her hands tightening around an imaginary neck.

"You said something about our targeting computers?" She slipped her painkillers back into a pocket and followed Aliya up the passageway towards Shadow Squadron's hanger full of TIE Defenders.

Zak grunted and as he slapped the access panel back onto the TIE defender and bolted it into place. He walked around to the other side of the TIE and removed another access panel. He looked, and poked, around at the wires and lights that filled the inside of the TIE for a few moments before reached in with his gloved hands and reconnecting a loose wire, "There we are," He said as he pulled his hands out of the confined space and rebolted the hatch on.

Things had been hectic for Shadow Squadron Pilot Zachariah Jak'el. His TIE defender had malfunctioned during a patrol mission and crashed into the shielded flank of their Star Destroyer carrier ship. He had ejected at the last moment and spent the next two weeks in the medical ward getting over his cold and shock. He had been issued a new TIE defender, but it was a overused old thing that barely worked and it's only comfort was the fact that the hull was still in one piece. He had spent the last month fixing the beast up. The engines had been completely refitted, the weapon and targeting systems repaired, and now he had solved the power problem. The TIE had only been operating under half power for the oddest reason and only now did Zak found that one of the two power cables that connected the generator to the rest of the ship had become loose.

Zak walked over to the boarding ladder and climbed up and into the cockpit of the TIE. He fired it up and smile as he read the technical readout. The TIE was now running at full power. He patted the starfighter and then shut it down and climbed out. The ship was repaired, and not a moment to soon. He was afraid he was going to have to barrow someone Else's defender for the Shadow's escort mission over Bakura.

Zak moved around the ship, collecting tools and equipment and carrying them over to the workbench half way across the hangar bay. He carefully cleaned and checked all the equipment before placing it in it's proper place on bench and adjacent bins and shelves, whistling a merry tune the whole time.

"Activate modules fifteen-D through twenty-one."

RD-80 blooped an affirmative.

"Good. Now load the simulation again."

The astromech's domed head swiveled as it uploaded the simulation program into the TIE Defender's mainframe. Data flooded through the targeting computer read-out, a melange of bogies of various sizes and alignments.

"Targeting resolution is nominal. IFF protocols functioning. Target prioritization functioning. Targeting assistance..."

A few keystrokes brought up a reticle in the targeting view, which roamed toward the closest simulated enemy. The reticle encircled its target and locked into place--

Then the monitor flickered and washed over with red Aurabesh script.

It wasn't in Tannis V'larr's character to react explosively in irritation, but the new targeting computer in his Defender was testing even his vaunted Sikarran discipline. He and RD had been fighting the buggy system since early that morning--he'd missed breakfast because of it.

"Piece of... inferior programming. Ar-Dee Eighty, please log this along with the forty-seven other fatal system crashes since this morning."

The carbon-black astromech bubbled and tittered its private amusement and retracted its probe from the Defender's computer access port. Tannis heaved up from the pilot's seat and crawled out of the narrow cockpit. "Run another level-five diagnostic and recompile the simulation," he grunted back at the droid. "If nothing turns up, program a boot-up protocol for the old system. I would prefer that my targeting computer not crash while I'm trying to line up a shot."

RD whistled wearily and set about its tasks as the Professor's boots hit the hangar deck. Tannis knew he had little time to prep before the Shadows' escort mission launched. He made for his equipment locker next to the buoyant Zachariah Jak'el.

"Colonel Jak'el," Tannis greeted him blandly. "I trust you are having better fortune than I."

k’Vik hung over her ship like a Frigate Bird over a school of fish. The Torobos Watchman was a Nebulon B frigate that had been heavily modified for long term recon missions. They had only recently taken on the Rogues to give their own squadron downtime.

The Sullustan lead tech, Biwin Ne’bob, had already given up on shooing the A-Wing pilot away. She would not physically intercede, but watched his every move. When asked why, k’Vik explained that this was her ship: she had done most of the assembly herself, during the little downtime during her stay as a Gallowfree Transport pilot. While Alliance ships were supposedly property of the Alliance, some elite pilot’s ships skirted the rules. She watched as the port concussion missile launcher was extracted in exchange for a recon suite. k’Vik occasionally checked the mix of ships belonging to her squad mates, but the twittering astromechs were surely keeping track of them better than she could.

Her wrist chrono ticked over and began to vibrate. The mission briefing was in ten minutes. She strode over to the hanger’s comm. station.

“This is Commander k’Vik, reminding the Rogues to report to the briefing room in five minutes. Thank you.”

Biwin sighed, relieved that the pale fighter pilot was gone.

Zak pulled his work gloves off and stretched his hands, glad to be free of the greasy gloves, "About the same, Professor," He answered as he stretched his fingers a bit more and then pulled the gloves back on, "From what I've seen each TIE has a different problem with the targeting system. Some simply don't work at all while others work at different levels. So I figured it was a either a programming problem that didn't agree with the defender's systems or the other way around, like the human body rejecting a organ transplant," Zak was one of the more technically savvy pilots of Shadow Squadron. He was the one most called on when there was a problem. He was not that he was smart, he was just good with machines, "I ran the program on my ship and nothing would work at all. No targeting retinal, no tactical information, no nothing. The system was not even turning on. While working on this problem I found that my TIE was running on half power. I located a loose power coupling and stuck it back in. Based on that I got a hunch as to what the problem with the new targeting computer is. My hunch is that this new system takes up considerably more power then the old one and all we need to do is recalibrate the power grid so that it feeds more power into the targeting computer. If this is true we may need to upgrade our power generators or pull power from our back-up depending on how much this new systems needs, if that's even the problem. I know I've carefully calibrated the intake/outtake of power in my TIE's systems to avoid the chance of a power surge and so I know when I'm loosing power. It's worth a try at least."

Zak was more then a little surprised with his own reasoning. He had not thought about this until just now, but it really all made sense. A new system that took more power would cause the whole TIE's energy grid to be recalibrate to deal with the difference. Why had he not thought of it before? That was the problem with new prototype parts. The Empire always gives them to the elite squadrons first without properly testing them first, since a real field test would work so much better then a staged controlled test.

"But before we try my half crazy idea I'd like to know what you think the problem could be?"

Tannis frowned and pulled a datapad from his pocket. "I suppose it's possible," he said. "I've been looking over the specs -- the new system demands thirty percent more power than the old one. Unfortunately, readjusting the grid may not be the answer for all our fighters. I have noticed that Shadow Squadron pilots seem to have a fetish for customizing their craft, legally or illegally. This new targeting computer is so highly integrated into other ship's systems -- shields, propulsion, power distribution, scanners -- that it may be in conflict with some of those modifications. That would explain why it is affecting our fighters differently."

RD-40 issued another exasperated sigh as it tussled with Tannis's Defender.

"Though it would not explain the problems with my craft," Tannis added almost self-righteously. "I have always kept my ship up to specs. For the meantime, we can program a protocol to boot up into the old system if the new one crashes. Unfortunately, each fighter would be left in the dark until the old system was up and running again. About thirty seconds."

Tannis knew he didn't have to explain to another pilot -- in combat, that was an eternity.

"The briefing is in ten minutes. Until then, I would appreciate any any assistance you could render."

Tarn was already waiting inside the briefing room, staying out of everyone's way as they prepared for the mission. It was mostly techs double-checking coordinates and flight paths that their squad would be using. He had a nice view of the arrangement from the top bench of the circular setting.

His hands pounded the empty seats next to him, one after the other, to the annoyance of one of the techs. "Sorry," he smiled apologetically and grabbed his helmet and tried not to play with the visor. Tarn puffed out a breath and heard his Commanding Officer over the link.

“This is Commander k’Vik, reminding the Rogues to report to the briefing room in five minutes. Thank you.”

Five more minutes of boredom and dirty looks, which were not caused being obnoxious. Even though he defected from the Empire many months ago, there were still some in the Alliance that didn't trust him. It didn't matter how many TIE's he blew out of the sky or how many times he risked his life for his wing mates, he was still continuously viewed suspiciously. Maybe when he died they might believe but what a stupid way to prove yourself.

Quote:

---

"You said something about our targeting computers?" She slipped her painkillers back into a pocket and followed Aliya up the passageway towards Shadow Squadron's hanger full of TIE Defenders.

---

"Yeah I dunno," Aliya led Shooter to her ship and called up the targeting system. She ran a quick simulation and Aliya moved her ship into position to line up a shot. Soon as she had a confirmed locked, the system crashed. "It flakes out just as we get a lock on though it seems that each TIE is having its own unique problems with it."

She nodded over to Tannis, "The Prof's been trying to figure out what the frell is going on with sims but no luck so far."

The sound of laughter echoed down the hallway as a group of a half dozen grey-garbed Imperial technicians entered the hangar, followed closely by a small pack of astromech droids. Their black-capped heads snapped up and the conversation died when they found the hangar wasn't empty. The men's manner quickly became more business-like.

The most senior member of the group, a grizzled fellow with arms as hairy as a Wookie's addressed the pilots with a voice that spoke of many nights of heavy drinking and smoking.

"Excuse me, Sirs, we have a work order here to check out these Defenders before the Ambassador departs. Is there a problem here or can we proceed?"

Several of the other technicians looked at each other with mild annoyance. They hated it when the pilots stepped on their toes. "What the hell?"one whispered to his neighbor, 'you don't see us hopping in the damn things and doing THEIR jobs."

Quote:

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Originally posted by Tarn Ardsul
Tarn was already waiting inside the briefing room,
His hands pounded the empty seats next to him, one after the other, to the annoyance of one of the techs. "Sorry," he smiled apologetically and grabbed his helmet and tried not to play with the visor. Tarn puffed out a breath and heard his Commanding Officer over the link.

“This is Commander k’Vik, reminding the Rogues to report to the briefing room in five minutes. Thank you.”

---

The man's nervous tapping was interupted with a bone-jarring slap on the back. Hunk hopped over the bench before landing none-to-gracefully next to Tarn. His 5 o'clock shadow almost hid the smeared lipstick that still lay below his mouth, a souvenir from the night before.

"How's it goin, Chief? Ready to get this show on the road?"

When he heard the call from Commander k'Vik, Biff couldn't have been on his feet faster. It felt like an age since the squadron had flown together, especially on any kind of mission of importance, so he was itching to get into the cockpit. Arriving, he found only two others before him, so busied himself by pacing about the room, looking over the shoulders of the techs.

Bette rubbed her forehead and shook her head, "Shadow Leader is going to have to talk to someone higher up about this. I'd rather our wingmates were running a sim program than taking their ships apart with barely an hour before a mission!"

Her voice got louder with each new word. "We have techs for this sort of thing!"

The two female pilots walked into the briefing room, and Bette pulled out the bottle of pills and tossed them to Commander Grisham, Shadow Leader, who was just setting up the visuals for the briefing. "You're going to need those, Commander."

Aliya's eyes widened and her mouth dropped stunned. She did not just see that. Commander Grisham looked just as baffled.

"Um sir. We're having problems with our targeting computers and Davis was hoping you could talk to someone to get our ships put back together."

"What?!" Grisham barked back.

"Well, some of our pilots are trying to fix the problem and others ..."

"Enough!!! Your squad needs to be flight ready in less then an hour! We don't have time for this dren!" He hit a button and called down to Levtz, head of maintenance for the ship and fighters.

"Yes, sir?" Aliya had to fight a smile. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for.

Grisham got to the point rather quickly. "I don't care what you need to do but peel those pilots out of those ships and get them flight ready ten minutes ago! The last thing we need is for hostiles to attack us and our pilots unable to shoot a damn thing out of the sky!"

"Yes.... Yes sir. I'm not sure why I wasn’t inf..."

"I don't care why it happened! Just FIX IT!!!"

"Yes sir!!!"

Grisham fell down into the nearest chair and stared at the pills Davis threw him. He really did have one monster of a headache now ...

Bette's interjection warranted nothing more than a raised eyebrow. Now that the techs had finally arrived, there was no point in arguing.

"Excuse me, Colonel Jak'el... Ah, gentlemen." Tannis intercepted the senior tech before his crew had dispersed. "You will find one of your astromech units, Ar-Dee Eighty, running a diagnostic on my Defender's targeting computer. In case you did not receive the maintenance requests I have been filing for the past three hours, the droid will be able to fill you in. I have a briefing to attend."

As he walked away, Tannis heard one of the techs mutter something along the lines of "arrogant half-breed."

Tannis found his way to the briefing room and took his seat just as the squadron commander was raining hellfire and brimstone on the maintenance crews. While he seemed somewhat less insubordinate than their previous commander, Grisham was prone to occasional bouts of excitability. Then again, he was only human.

Zak smirked as he watched the Techs file into the docking bay. It was always this way before important missions. The top dogs yelled at him and the other Shadows for messing with the ships, the techs came in and added to the yelling, and the Shadows disapeared with barely a work in edgewise. Zak was not much for talking, but he deemed it all a huge waste of air.

He moved back towards his ship and closed the cockpit hatch he had left open. A couple techs walked over as Zak dismounted his boarding latter, "I already fixed it," He chuckled as he passed them by. His ship was back in one piece, less then could be said for the Professor's ship. Zak enjoyed the baffled expressions on the techs faces. He walked on without turning back as they began to go over his ship themselves. Of course they would find nothing wrong except for the disfuctional targeting system.

He wandered into the breifing room and leaned against the wall right beside the door. He seldom sat during a briefing. Why sit down now when you were going to sit in a cockpit for the next several hours. The New commander was okay in Jak's eye, but he felt that each commander was the same as the last. It was just a different face and a louder voice.

Hunk's expression darkened for the briefest of moments as he surveyed the enarly empty room. Where was everyone?

"I hope you boys have some Xexto blood in you and some extra arms hidden under those clothes, because it looks like we're each going to have to pilot 3 or 4 ships." Hunk chuckled deeply at his own joke, thinking it hilarious.

"Speaking of ships, I hope they're taking good care of Zhara."

It was important to feel a bond with your ship, he felt, so Hunk had decided to name his after the Twi'lek waitress he had detangled himself from this morning. Well, at least he thought that's what her name was. To tell the truth, that wasn't what he was concentrating on.

The briefing room was mostly empty, with the exception of the few squadron members who were going to fly this mission: Hunk, Biff, Tarn. Eluna was missing. She was normally punctual.

“Right.” Milivikal said.

“To begin I’d like to remind everyone that this is a reconnaissance mission. We’ll all be short either a torpedo launcher or a missile launcher. We need to fly quietly. Stay off full thrust and keep the targeting systems off as long as possible. I’ve already arranged the retreat route to be programmed into the hyper-drives. It’s a four-jump route, and if you find trouble, jump. We’re running recon, not gunning for a fight.” She explained, and cued the holoprojector, showing the Bakura system and where they would be deployed. It was much looser than the normal combat spread.

“We’re each carrying different sensor packages. Our objective is to sniff for evidence of Imperial activity based in the Bakura system. This will allow the fleet commanders to assemble a hit and fade fleet to dissuade further Imperial ‘tax collection’ in this area.”

“Any questions?”

Tarn shook his head, his lips curling downwards into a dismissive frown. It was a simple mission as long as there weren't any hostiles ... and if Hunk would be sober. Things would be fine ...

Eluna sprinted down the corridor, causing various crew members to move out of the way or dive altogether. In transit, she fumbled with the familiar orange coveralls, securing them over her shorts and crew tee. She slowed to a walk, stepping through the meeting room door in time to work the final few clasps that held the coveralls in place at the neck. Shaking her hair free of the neckline, Eluna looked her teammates over and sat near to the door.

Tannis took his seat as he always did, datapad on the fold-out desk to take notes.

Grisham rose stiffly from his chair and tucked the headache meds into his breast pocket. His expression was one of strained patience as he turned to address his squadron.

"Captain Vahlshalyn informs me that we've been experiencing some difficulties with the targeting systems," he said with the air of a tolerant parent speaking to his ill-behaved children. "Furthermore, I hear that several of you have taken it upon yourselves to try to correct the errors from the inside out. Setting aside for a moment the fact that your fighters are not your personal shop projects, can you please pay attention to the flight clock? We have a mission to fly, for Force's sake!"

Tannis, like the other pilots, merely endured this additional tirade. Grisham was still trying to find his feet as the squadron commander. Even his former position as a flight instructor at the Imperial Academy on Balmorra hadn't prepared him for this level of gasconade.

Though, Tannis ruminated, running simulations and droid diagnostics hardly constituted taking a ship apart.

"Now, if that's settled," Grisham continued, "we've got some babysitting to do. Ambassador Shirov is leading a relief envoy to Bakura, including meds, supplies, and troops, to aid local civilians, improve relations, and advance Imperial interests in this sector. It's all the same to us. There are two Lambda-class shuttles in the hangar loaded to the gills. Just see 'em to the planet and head back to the barn. It's that simple, folks."

Having heard Eluna thundering down the corridor to the meeting room, Biff was hard pressed to stop himself smirking. The desire to break into a grin quickly evaporated, however, when his attention returned to the Commander – stony faced as ever. He looked between the others present, all more experienced than he was, then shook his head. “No, ma'am.”

Sounded too simple. "Are all wings going?" Bette half-heartedly raised her hand in the middle of her sentance.

Grisham nodded, "The entire squadron - you are not to broach the atmosphere under any circumstances. The Bakurans have been very clear about that."

She grunted acknowledgement, and the briefing ended. Grabbing her flight helmet, Davis walked down the passage towards the hangar bay, lingering behind the bulk of the pilots.

Aliya was double-checking her gear when she noticed that Shooter was dawdling behind. Her Squad Leader had been on edge as of late, pain medicine aside.

She slowed down her steps until she was side by side with Bette. "You okay?" she asked quietly. "Or is Grish just making ya grumbly as usual?"

Zak pushed off the wall and was one of the first out of the meeting room. His long legs propelled him briskly down the hallway and back into the docking bay. He zipped his flight suit up all the way to his chin as he walked. His helmet was slipped off it's peg on the wall and slipped under his arm. He glanced over his shoulder to see a few of his squadron falling behind of the rest of the group, most notably Davis and Vahlshalynn. Females, always compelled to chat with each other. He respected Davis and her fighting abilities, but he just didn't think that females were the right material for military work.

He shrugged his shoulders and continued across the docking bay. He reached his ship and circled around it, making sure it was still in one peice and making sure the techies had done their job right. Satisfied with what he saw he climbed up the awaiting ladder and plopped into the cockpit of his TIE. He powered his ship up and slipped his helmet on. He secured it and listened to the seal lock. He was ready to go.

"This is Shadow Eight checking Comm Systems. Do you read me Command?", "This is Command, we read you loud and clear Shadow Eight. Prepare your ship for flight. Command out."

"I dunno. I have a bad feeling about this mission." Bette rubbed her hand across her forehead, and then grinned and slapped Chipper on the butt. "Get to your fighter, Captain! We are on a schedule here! Do not make me repeat myself!"

Aliya jumped, and then darted down the hall towards the hangar. Bette covered up her grin as Grisham approached her from behind, ready to spar verbally with him if necessary. He only glanced at her before passing and entering the docking bay.

Bette grabbed her helmet from its spot on the wall, and climbed into the ManEater. "C'mon sweetie, time for a ride." She ran her hand along the hull before dropping inside the Defender.

"A little fly and spy? Doesn't sound too bad. Let's go; the sooner we get out there the sooner we can be back in here, celebrating."

[i]"If we're quick enough," he thought, "I can still catch Zheera before her evening shift."

Hunk clapped Ardsul on the back. "Whad'ya say, Chief, ready for a little peeping on the Empire?"

The mission was so boring Bette wondered if she could get away with taking a nap. Of course, not really, because Defenders didn't have auto-pilot except when they were in hyperspace, and she certainly wasn't going to jump anywhere.

Aliya, Tannis, and Zak formed up behind her as they followed the shuttle towards the neutral planet of Bakura.

"Approaching convoy, please identify yourself."

"Bakura control, this is the Imperial Shuttle Iago bearing Ambassador Shirov and his envoy. We are transmitting our identification protocols."

Unlike his wingmates, Tannis didn't begrudge escort duty. It was part of the mechanism that kept the finely-tooled components of the Imperial military machine running. Procedure, order, protocol. It was as close to natural law as the service ever came.

Of course, it wasn't a terribly stimulating way to spend the afternoon, but Tannis had certain advantages over his human counterparts in that regard -- while his TIE Defender didn't have an active auto-pilot, he essentially did. Compartmental control was an integral portion in Sikarran mental training; Tannis knew precisely how much of his mind was needed to keep his fighter on-course and to answer his wing leader's routine position checks, leaving the rest of his faculties free for other pursuits. Already he'd given careful consideration to the report he planned to write on the new targeting system's deficiencies and fine-tuned the training drill he planned to suggest to Commander Grisham for their next round of maneuvers. And now he was thinking on a more personal project, the specs he'd been drawing up for the past few weeks, though with little hope of winning the attention of Sienar Fleet Systems -- the key, of course, was in minimizing the emissions from the radiator panels without sacrificing energy flow...

"Shuttle Iago, you are cleared for approach. We are transmitting the landing coordinates. Your escort fighters are not to penetrate the exosphere."

"Acknowledged, Bakura. We are beginning our approach. Shadow Squadron, fall off to mark seven."

Tannis made the appropriate course adjustment without the slightest agitation to his train of thought. The twelve TIE Defenders slowly fell away from their protective formation around the two shuttles.

k’Vik settled into the A-Wing’s snug seat. She shimmed her body a little, and then pulled the harness on. The helmet was draped over the control stick, and she pulled it over her head.

Helmet secured, she lowered the fighter’s canopy. Milivikal recited the pre-flight checklist like a sacred prayer she said every day. Her hands moved nearly automatically. Her eyes looked for any discrepancies while she turned on and off various bits of equipments. Then she began the startup sequence. Most Alliance fighters had extremely short startup sequences, to the tune of 45 seconds. Hers was no exception, but there was no need when they were not scrambling.

First she turned on the main generator. A subtle, nearly imperceptible hum emitted from behind the cockpit. Mili slowly directed power to the different systems. The engines and repulsors were given enough to warm up, followed by the shields. Milivikal did not send any power to the weapon systems, knowing that even the base charged output would ruin readings from the passive sensor arrays the Rogues were carrying. Everything flicked green. As an indicator of readiness to the ground crew, the commander turned on the A-Wing’s running lights. Fortunately, the crew had finished its prep ten minutes prior. She eased more power to the repulsors, and felt the small fighter lift off the flight deck. A satisfying thunk sounded into the cockpit as the A-Wing’s landing struts retracted into the craft’s hull. It wobbled gently.

“Remember to keep weapon systems off and uncharged.” She reminded. “Flight command, this is Commander k’Vik requesting clearance for departure.”

“Command to Rogues, you’re green for launch. Find some good ion trails.”

“Thank you command. k’Vik out.”

The Novaladex Event Horizon engines began to whine while she eased the craft into space. The X-Wings that made up most of the rest of the squad followed.

Eluna had made her way to her Y-wing, reading the mission specs as she ran. Her knack for multitasking had always been a good source of locker-room humor among the other pilots, who sometimes called her Lotsa Luna, for seemingly being able to get lots of stuff taken care of at the same time.

It was a little funny, but Eluna was always somewhere between the cold practicality of her true nature and the feelings of self conciousness she harbored for being what she was.

Dodging a row of flight crewers, she leapt onto the third rung of the ladder leading into her cockpit. The mission profile she was late to hear was now already committed to her memory verbatim, and she was now stuck wondering just how much she'd stick out on this little snooper's expedition. She didn't have the push that Mili and some of the others had with their fast attack fighters, but what she lacked in raw speed, she made up for in payload.

In this case, a comprehensive sensor suite was loaded into her craft, replacing the guts of her bomb bay and delivery system, which lied in a hulk at one corner of the hangar.

If this wasn't further insult, Alliance brass had sidelined her bombardier, and replaced him in the hotseat with a spook from Intelligence. He obviously knew how the flight suit worked, which was a plus. She wouldn't bother asking if he was up to the challenge of running the passive sensor hub in her ship's belly. In addition to being able to run good reconnaissance of its own, the thing was supposed to network the sensor scans together, to maximize the net and keep overlap or gaps from messing up their screen.

"Commander Thals?"

He had a voice. She cocked an eyebrow and slid her helmet on.

"Cut the foreplay. I'm Eluna. This is my ship. Don't touch anything that the suits didn't make me put on it, and we'll have a good flight."

That seemed to shut him up, to which Eluna smiled as she blazed through her pre-flights.

"Rogue Leader, this is Rogue Five. I'm in your wash so don't thump the throttle."

There was something unnerving about recon missions. When it came to straight up dogfights, at least you knew what you were in for, that was Biff's way of thinking. You pushed to full throttle, let loose a barrage of shots and barrel-rolled your way to victory. Stealth wasn't something he had been trained for, and although the Commander wasn't asking them to do anything particularly tasking, he couldn't help but feel nervous.

His hands began to tremble a little as he prepped his X-Wing for take off. Frowning, he took a deep breath and steeled himself – unwilling to become overcome by fear. He found that looking over the controls for the newly installed sensor package helped take his mind off things.

The others took off, and he followed in their wake. “Rogue Eleven, out of the nest.”

"Heading to mark seven, roger that Command." Bette tightened her hands on the flight stick, peeling away towards the low orbit they would assume for only a few minutes. Then it was back to the Termagant. Grisham was taking six TIEs in one direction, she had the other five with her.

The only reason was it looked prettier when they peeled off in two groups. There was no real reason for the entire squadron to be out on frelling escort-babysitting-mindless-cadet duty. The Empire was sending Bakura a message. We can be powerful allies. Or a dangerous enemy.

"Maniac, are you humming?" She clicked the comm twice to get Shadow Twelve's attention. "There's no humming in the Imperial Navy, boy!"

The six Defenders screamed through space, well away from the atmosphere of the planet. After a few more minutes they would veer away and head for home.

Ulrhik rested his helmet against the back of his seat. Things had cooled down quite a bit since Endor. Well, cooled down to the point where he had to constantly use simulators to keep his head in the game. TIEs did not allow for any slack, everything banked on skill. The average TIE fighter though, the TIE defenders on the other hand. After flying in TIEs, the defender's capabilities were something Ulrhik knew not to take for granted. He still strived to maintain the same attitude though, aggressive vigilance to endure the trials he might face in space. So he sat up a little more as he scanned the emptiness of space again, his defender in the rear of the formation and farthest out from the front. They were peeling out a distance and were to return soon enough. How trivial.

He blinked in time to notice something move in his peripheral. Like the Dragon as he was called, he felt his adrenaline pick up. Those weren't anything but what his gut instinct told him they were. They were out of immediate scanner range and he cued it on to see if even the passive radius picked up anything. It responded with a beep of failure.

"Shooter, this is Dragon, eye on my 10'."

He used the targeting computer to set up a ghost sight in the area he had seen the movement. It was in lower orbit and had just caught his sight for long enough to glimpse what shouldn't have been there. The ghost sights would appear on the other Shadows' HUDs, allowing them to focus on it as well. Maybe, just maybe, this meant something. Whether Bakura had thought to do something really, really dumb or the Rebels, or even pirates had reared their head, Godsend didn't care for politics and he by now he just wanted to see someone else go up in a vacuum.