Formation

[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.