Minor Repairs (Kalidor, Kuat Shipyards)

[Bette Davis]

If it isn't one thing, its another.

Lieutenant Commander Bette "Shooter" Davis had been thrilled to get some leave while the Strike-class medium cruiser Kalidor was docked for repairs in the Kuat shipyards. The orbital stations were full of interesting things to do, and best of all she could get away from her nuggets.

Granted, they were doing better, mostly because of her teaching, but they still tended toward asking super annoying questions that had common sense answers. Like Kidd Smix. Bette suppressed a shudder at the thought of the young ensign. Skilled in piloting, perhaps, but not socially. He'd really fallen straight out of a turnip transport right into the recruiting shuttle. Of course she'd shown him the error of his ways, and now he was comfortably far away, causing headaches for someone else as a shuttle pilot.

She walked with purpose down the wide central promenade of the orbital station, but she had no destination in mind except perhaps the bottom of a bottle. Even that was starting to lose its appeal, however. Her run in with Kelly Perris had awakened a part of her she'd thought drowned. Conscience? Whatever it was, it was about as dammed annoying as her nuggets.

A group of pilots were walking towards her, and she drew herself up to her full height of five feet four inches and tried to look imposing. Despite her rank and full uniform, women in the Navy didn't get a lot of respect. Something else that was like a constant migraine in the back of her head.

Still, despite all the current 'things' going on, Bette wouldn't change much of her situation. As long as she could still get out in a Defender, or any other fighter, she felt alive. The wind in my face, metaphorically. She determined that she would ignore these pilots, some of whom looked familiar from Kalidor as they drew closer, and find a quiet bar for a nice, big, beer.

[Vikki Tavik]

The second the Kalidor had docked, it seemed that Bloodfin squadron had done everything in their power to get off ship as fast as humanly possible. Not that Tavik could blame them, the last time they had even seen another ship, none the less a station, was when Hellfire had transferred over. Griffin "Bull" Muldoonin particular had expressed a constant longing for a good bar, and possibly the chance to catch a few of the Hellfire nuggets in an arena where command wouldn't be instantly able to step in and prevent him from teaching them a few lessons the hard way.

Whatever. They were off ship. And as much as they were still her pilots, Tavik loved nothing more than to be blissfully ignorant of their activities when they were off duty. The thought ran through her mind once more. Her pilots. Like it should be. With Hellfire had come Davis and Adder, Davis taking up the position of instructor of the squadron and Adder...well, he'd taken up Tavik's job. Apparently it didn't sit well with him, or the old man, or something. He had left the Kalidor that morning and Tavik had been reinstated to her previous position.

The job however didn't come without its drawbacks. While the rest of the pilots and crew of the Kalidor would be enjoying some much needed down-time, she was to collect a new pilot for the Bloodfins: Vitra Karr, ex-military. The report she had been given only glossed over generalities of that particular little reasoning, the details would have to come from Karr directly.

At least they'd chosen one of the bars as a meet up place, it was easier to pry into someone's mind and get a real feel for them when they felt more relaxed. At least the replacement pilot was another woman, that would make Burnout happy at least, probably all the boys too but that was another issue entirely.

[Tiercel Habrok]

As the pilots of the Strike-class cruiser Kalidor dispersed into the hive of activity that was the Kuat Drive Yards, one figure lagged behind. His eyes were wide as he tried to take in the breadth and depth of the Imperial fleet that was docked around the Kalidor, making the cruiser look smaller and shabbier than it had ever done before.

Tiercel Habrok didn't notice that, however; his attention was on the flight manual in his hands, scrabbling through pages and pages of starship specification as he tried to identify what he was looking at. He edged away from a particularly huge ship, his head titled all the way back in an effort to get a proper look at the monolith made in metal – but at that moment, bumped into whoever was walking behind him. Wheeling around with an apology just about bursting from his lips, he was confronted by a painfully familiar face.

“Captain Tavik.”

Hastily, he hid his guidebook, which was entitled An Imperial Cadets Guide to the Many Varied and Much Admired Starships of Her Majesty's Imperial Fleet. A weak smile crept onto his lips, but under the Captain's gaze it soon started to wither.

“You're going to pick up our new pilot, right?”

[Cael Bathala]

It was no surprise to Cael Bathala that, the moment they had all begun to disembark, Bloodfin Squadron had put as much distance between themselves and Hellfire as possible. Aboard the Kalidor, Captain Tavik's pilots took to teasing the Hellfire nuggets as if there was a competition to see who could be the biggest asshole – and for all Cael knew there was – but in the Kuat Shipyards there was more to see and do. Like get drunk and come up with even better insults. Where his flight-mates had gotten to, he didn't know, but it seemed like most everyone was drifting the same way – to a bar, where the owner must have felt all his Life Days had come at once when he'd got a look of the crowds of thirsty pilots swaggering into view.

[Bette Davis]

Bette passed by the trio of Nightshrike pilots, and managed to ignore them completely as they went on their way. She hadn't socialized with many other pilots on Kalidor, and had not even bothered to learn most of their names. What would have been the point?

It had been a long and sober tour, and she quickly found her way into a cantina that was big and already had a mob of pilots, officers, and assorted Imperial citizens inside. Bette pushed her way to the bar to order a beer and found herself elbow to elbow with Ensign Bathala.

She grunted a hello, tried again to disregard how good looking the nugget was, and flagged down the droid bartender. "A pint of Corellian ale. And quick." Bette tossed a handful of credit chits on the bartop. "Just keep taking my drinks out of this, and let me know when you need more."

[Tannis V'larr]

A familiar, flint-like voice interrupted Bette's binge before it could begin.

"With respect, Commander Davis, I question the wisdom of such over-indulgence. Even for someone so fortunate as to possess a 'cybonic' liver."

Tannis V'larr, looking smart in his new lieutenant commander's bars, approached Bette from behind with his hands clasped neatly behind his back and his lips pressed into the closest thing to a smile that ever blessed his angular features. Behind him, looking far more chipper, swaggered another familiar face.

"I would hate to see something unseemly befall one of the Empire's most decorated combat pilots."

[Jakys Sei'trem]

With the ever growing crowd to the fine drinking establishment with its ridiculously creative name, “Downtime”, a rambunctious group of card players in the corner began to draw more attention. Perhaps more so at the Devaronian dressed in silk to the horns at the center of the party than any noise coming from them. Xenophobia had gotten better over the years, but on the all-human Kuat, any alien was seen as out of place.

“Sabaac!” The alien grinned brightly as he slapped his hand onto the table, straight 23, and a round of groans followed. “ ‘pologies, gentlemen. I’was a good game.”

Surprisingly the other players simply grinned along, drank their booze, and traded jokes. Fishing up his winnings, the alien strode up to the bar. Several other patrons gave him a wide berth and cast odd looks at him.

“ ‘scuse me, miss.” He slid up next to one of those pilot types had just walked in. “ A round o’drinks f’my friends at th’ table.”

He smiled over at the pilot.

“An one f’the lady s’well.”

[Vitra Karr]

Kuat Drive Yards.

Her new squadron was here, their ship docked for repairs.

Former Captain of her own company in the Strategic Insertion Battalion - she had aced one too any piloting tests, was rushed through training, and humiliated the CAG of the Borealis.

It earned her a step down in rank to Lieutenant, and seemed as if her years of dedication to the cause meant absolutely nothing.

Vitra put a stop to her train of thought with some effort, and hoisted her black duffel bag onto her shoulder. The rest of her gear was marked to be moved over to the Kalidor, while she went off to her meeting.

Thank all the gods it was in a cantina...the casual atmosphere would be a boon. As would the alcohol.

The dim light of the cantina glittered across her leather jacket and flashed when it hit the perfectly polished leather and brass of her boots. The tall heels added four inches to her five foot two inch frame and clicked audibly across the floor. Dropping her bag on the floor at the end of the bar, she perched on the barstool and shrugged out of her jacket.

The barkeep ambled over and nodded amiably as he caught sight of her black-bordered tags. "Trooper Corps?"

"SIB, former Captain of Delta Company."

"Well alright then...what can I get ya?"

"Mutant Zombie...doubled." she replied, running a hand through her chestnut hair. Dark eyes slipped across the others at the bar, the silver threads embedded in her irises forming a cross-hatch pattern as she focused on each of them briefly.

[Vikki Tavik]

The sound of Habrok's voice wasn't quite the equivalent of running nails against the hull of a ship, but it still set the Captain on edge.

"Yes." The answer was curt and Tavik attempted to brush off the fact she had been bumped into.

Her steps were sure, eyes trained forward as she attempted to shrug off the cruel gazes of the various other members of the Empire who didn't quite hold the same respect towards her as the crew of the Kalidor.

Despite attempting to put some space between her as Habrok, Vikki knew he was going to be close by, no more than just a step behind her.

"I'm guessing Colonel Wystalin has you running some sort of errand for him while we're at dock?" The callousness that she typically addressed the Ensign with wavered somewhat. Habrok was a minor irritant, and if it meant she could disrupt Wystalin's day, then having him tag along might almost be worth it.

"Whatever it is, it can wait. You're with me. Besides, if she is typical of the Empire's finest, then it may just take the both of us to drag her sorry intoxicated hide back to the brig when we ship off. I'd have Muldoon help me but odds are he'll already be occupying one of the cells at that point."

[Cael Bathala]

The bartender had outright ignored Cael, serving Commander Davis and even an alien first before he found his way back down to Ensign Bathala. He would have written it off as coincidence, if it wasn't for the fact that Hellfire Squadron were always at the bottom of the pile. Whether it was a matter of who got the latest equipment upgrades, or who got the best of the lunch-hall slops, it was never a pilot with Hellfire stitched onto their jacket. Had to be a kick in the teeth, for a pilot as highly rated as Bette Davis to be in charge of such a sorry bunch.

Another of the Shadow's appeared and made a vain attempt to curb the Commander's drinking habit. Already, Cael was beginning to question his own wisdom, in coming to the bar. The crowds were getting thicker and, as he took his first sip of ale, he was sure he had just heard someone whoop 'Team Tagge! Yeah!' Eyes narrowed, he glanced about the bar until he spotted a holo-screen that was showing highlights of the weeks swoop-races.

[Tiercel Habrok]

Habrok hmm'd to himself as he walked, now practically in step with Captain Tavik. She set a brisk pace, more a stalk than a walk.

“So it's a she.”

There were only three women in Bloodfin squadron. Aside from Captain “Flashfire” herself, there was Trisha “Burnout” Lank - whose call-sign was regrettably entirely accurate – and Maranai “Rimmer” Madine who, like Tiercel, was squandering her perhaps above-average talents as a pilot in the Gunnery Corps. All things considered, history didn't provide too favourable of a recommendation for women aboard the Kalidor.

“What's her name? Where's she from?”

[Jakys Sei'trem]

“Is zat regret a’see?”

Jakys peered over at Cael Bathala from his new perched at the bar. The young female pilot had already skedaddled away. Must have been the horns.

The Devaronian remember the fighter jockey from the affair at the Russard Estate back when. They only shared a few snippets of conversation at dinner, but he had a superb memory for the details.

Cael didn’t even look half as peppy as the enthusiastic young, new pilot at the dinner party.

“Nev’r seen a jockey look that down ‘afore.”

[Bette Davis]

"With respect, Commander Davis, I question the wisdom of such over-indulgence. Even for someone so fortunate as to possess a 'cybonic' liver.

"I would hate to see something unseemly befall one of the Empire's most decorated combat pilots."

Bette's eyes widened at the voice behind her, and she turned quickly, managing not to jostle Bathala as he got his drink from the bartender. "Professor? You pointy-eared bastard!" She beamed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't tell me the Termagant is here. Chipper!"

She lost her place at the bar when she walked around to pretend to slug Aliya in the shoulder. "Krasst, its been a long time." Bette turned to look up at Tannis, and gaped at his uniform. "Frell me, they made you Lieutenant Commander?!"

[Malick Raine]

Raine hung back about ten steps behind Chipper trying to remain inconspicuous as possible. It had only been a few weeks since the military courts had decided to reinstate him after he had been AWOL for nearly two years. Even though he had broken several laws on his sabbatical the courts had taken leniency on him believing his story was compelling. For his sister and him the courts decide to allow them to keep their new names as a form of protective custody while an investigation into his father’s dealings were being launched.

He didn't want to draw to much attention to himself, hoping no one here would remember Jason Dreggs. He would have just stayed on the Termagant but Chipper had insisted he get off the ship. He had a hard time arguing with her, he was a sucker for a woman in a flight suite. So here he was hanging back sunglasses covering his eyes and his head kept low. He occasionally glanced around the bar trying to spot familiar faces that he should avoid. There were only two people he recognized besides Chipper and Tannis. Chipper and Tannis where in the clear well aware of who he was and who he use to be.

The two he recognized where Bette Davis and Cael Bathala. He had never met the later but had lost some money betting on him in swoop races a couple of times. As for Lt. Cmdr Davis he had to hope she wouldn't remember him or at least wouldn't call him out by his old name. He scoped the bar some more just to make sure no else he knew was around but the place was pretty packed so it was a futile attempt.

[Aliya Vahlshalynn]

"With respect, Commander Davis, I question the wisdom of such over-indulgence. Even for someone so fortunate as to possess a 'cybonic' liver.

"I would hate to see something unseemly befall one of the Empire's most decorated combat pilots."

Bette's eyes widened at the voice behind her, and she turned quickly, managing not to jostle Bathala as he got his drink from the bartender. "Professor? You pointy-eared bastard!" She beamed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't tell me the Termagant is here. Chipper!"

She lost her place at the bar when she walked around to pretend to slug Aliya in the shoulder. "Krasst, its been a long time." Bette turned to look up at Tannis, and gaped at his uniform. "Frell me, they made you Lieutenant Commander?!"

Aliya feigned to block the incoming punch, and then laughed as it didn't take Bette too long to notice the new tags on Tannis indicating his rank. "I guess she ain't as plastered as we thought."

Wrapping an arm around Shooter's shoulders, she gave her old friend a squeeze before letting her go. "She still has the capacity to see!"

[Tannis V'larr]

"In the singular no less," Tannis added. "We may be just in time--"

He jerked to a halt when Bette wrapped him in a hug as well. Mechanically, he reached an arm around, patted her on the back, and waited for it to be over.

A moment later, he straightened out his jacket. "Since Shadow Squadron was disbanded, I have had the opportunity to continue my work in research and development. A few of my projects have evidently put me in good stead. And you? How are you enjoying your position as flight instructor?"

[Aura Kolar]

Zethra was the last one to make it station side out of his squad. He wanted to check over his Defender to make sure his weapon systems were working fine. Ever since the little prank that cost him a score in training, he made sure that his weapons were fine. The check lasted ten minutes, but that meant that most of the pilots from the Kalidor were long gone.

Walking through the docking tube, he turned left and began to make his way toward the nearest bar… or what he thought was the bar considering the amount of noise that was coming from the establishment. As he reached the door he saw that the occupancy sign on the door said 65 beings. Looking at the crowd, Zethra guessed that there was at least twice that number and most were on their way to getting drunk. The smile on his face grew. This was definitely the place he wanted to be. He began to shoulder his way toward the bar.

Being new to the Kalidor, Zethra was still trying to remember the other squadron’s pilots. As he pressed his way toward the bartop, he saw a group of his squad mates at the counter. He instantly recognized Chipper, his flight leader. Professor was there and another woman, shorter than he was talked excitedly with the pair. He recognized her, which meant that he had learned that she was Bette Davis, called Shooter. She was the CO of Shadow Squadron, but had switched to the Hellfires to train the squadron of mostly green pilots.

As he reached the bar he stepped behind Chipper and tossed a credit chit down on the counter. Churban Brandy… make it a double Barkeep.”

[Cael Bathala]

“Is zat regret a’see? Nev’r seen a jockey look that down ‘afore.”

The voice – like a devil perched on his shoulder – pulled Cael's attention reluctantly away from the swoop races. It was the alien who had been at the bar and... now that he looked at him, Bathala recognised him from somewhere else to. The party on Coruscant, if party was the right word for it.

“Can you blame me?” he nodded towards the telescreen, then shook his head. “Team Tagge's seen better days, by far.”

[Bette Davis]

"Since Shadow Squadron was disbanded, I have had the opportunity to continue my work in research and development. A few of my projects have evidently put me in good stead. And you? How are you enjoying your position as flight instructor?"

Bette pulled a face at her former squadmates as they poked fun at her sobriety. "Enjoying? That's one word for it. I prefer 'surviving.'"

A condition of her 'reassignment' had been no drinking on board the Kalidor, and she suddenly remembered her ale sitting on the bar. She shoved her way back to it, found it more or less unscathed, and brought it back to where the former Shadows were standing. "I heard they took the whole squadron apart after they booted me. I guess Capt. Kellison finally got his wish, huh?"

Bette sipped the ale, feeling her shoulders relax as the sweet nectar began to work into her bloodstream.

[Tarrick Ragnus]

Dropping out of hyperspace at the edge of the Kuat System, the Admonisher, Adarga, and the Vanguard arrived. They were in patrol formation with the ISD II at point and the other two SD’s behind and to the side of Admonisher. Immediately Kuat Control sent a code query to the Admonisher. Tarrick was on the bridge when it came. He nodded to Commander Valtross to send the code. It pinged several seconds later… an indication that it was accepted. Then a message was sent over.

“You are cleared for berths Alpha Niner Delta Gamma Three-Three-Two through Three-Three-Four. Welcome to ffice:smarttags" />Kuat Drive Yards.”

“Take us in.” Tarrick said, looking down toward the Navigator’s station in the pits. The three ships dropped out of formation and spread out, but all turning in unison to approach their assigned berths. With all the ships coming in and out of KDY, along with the defensive ships and CAP Patrols, and all the maintenance ships, the space around the famous shipyards and planets were thick. Slowly the three ships made their ways to their berths. As the Navigators slowed them to a stop, docking clamps shot out from all around them, attaching to various portions of the ships. After a few seconds, the Admonisher looked like a giant animal caught in the web of a predator.

“All stop”, called out the navigator. Tarrick could hear the excitement in his voice. The crew was quite anxious to get to the station and the legendary bars that they had.

Tarrick could feel all their eyes on him. He pushed a button, opening a shipwide frequency.

“This is the Captain. We are here to resupply and are awaiting reassignment. It will take approximately 4 days. You are on leave until that time. Conduct yourselves in a way appropriate to this ship. Soil our reputation and I’ll kill you myself. Dimissed.”

At that the crew applauded and quickly made their way toward the nearest docking clamp. Commander Valtross walked up.

“That’s one way to ensure loyalty.” He was smiling.

“I know. Go enjoy yourself. I will be at the bar later tonight.”

Valtross saluted and quickly left the bridge. Tarrick would join them in the festive drinking, but first we wanted to see what his new assignment was going to be.