Alliance Liberation Force
Ten bright shining vessels held in formation against an unnamed star. A red crest painted on each of their hulls, the symbol of the Alliance. This was the fleet set to engage and liberate Sullust, a world imprisoned by the Empire. The slavery of the planets people would soon come to an end, and the world would be a free body once again.
Among the vessels which composed the fleet the largest and most powerful was an MC80b, the flagship. Scrawled along it's plating beside the Rebellion's Crest read the word Candensce. In it's wake trailed two other Mon Cal cruisers, MC40s, and an array of other warships common among the Alliance Forces.
"Battlegroup Nova reports affirmative, waiting on your jump order Sir." The voice of a Mon Cal officer, a lieutenant, reported.
The tall fishlike being walked up behind the Duros commander in his seat and stood at ease awaiting the reply of his superior. The Duros grumbled, he felt out of place in the command center, the lone alien. He'd have prefered a more diverse crew but the battleship's systems wouldn't permit it. They were designed for the Mon Calamari, they would be used by them. The only reason he was stationed aboard was because of his experience in past conflicts of the Galaxy. This provided him an emense knowledge of fleet battle tactics and the rank of Fleet Admiral within the Alliance.
"Verywell they may have it." The Duros, Demek Jast, flicked a control on his command chair, openning a fleet wide channel. "All ships of the fleet, prepare to jump on my mark." A short pause for everyone to ready themselves, "Mark."
ISD II Termagant, 1645 hours
Fiddling with her octagonal dogtags, Bette's eyes were half closed as she listened to the nervous pre-flight chatter of the other pilots around her. In just a few minutes they'd be loaded into their TIEs, but the banter wouldn't stop unless strict comm silence was instated. Since they were planning on jumping right into the hornet's nest, there was no need.
"All pilots report to stations, repeat, all pilots report to stations. This is not a drill."
Their captain, Tal Kellison, was fond of drills, but this was the real thing. The only sound for the next few minutes was boots hitting the deck as the TIE pilots double timed it to their distinct hangars. Bette was one of the first to get strapped inside the TIE Interceptor she'd affectionately dubbed Maneater, and quickly ran through the preflight checks one more time. All of the fighters would have been gone over with a fine tooth comb in the last few hours, but no one knew her ship like she did. Bette ran a gloved hand over the instrument panel, and settled her helmet in place.
Comm chatter filled her ears as Shadow Squadron got settled in. She smiled, but kept quiet until a paticularly loud boast from Maniac caught her attention. "I highly doubt you can take on the entire Rebel fleet by yourself, Marr. Tell you what, you can follow me while I do it and we'll share the glory." Bette grinned, and said, "We're dropping in on Sullust in the next ten, people. Get your game faces on."