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Thread: Post Script: The Battle of Endor

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    Post Script: The Battle of Endor (shadow squadron)

    ooc: This takes place three hours after the Battle of Endor is over. /ic:

    Far above the forest moon of Endor, the ISD Termagant floated in high orbit. The second Death Star was crippled, the superlaser knocked out in the latest skirmish between the Empire and the Rebellion, and the Termagant's fighter complement had been severely depleted during the battle.

    Inside the ship claxons rang, and red lights started flashing. Bette thumbed the intercomm to the pilot barracks, and barked, "This is not a drill! Report to hangar 187 immediately! This is not a drill!"

    Inside, pilots jumps off their racks, tied on boots and zipped up flightsuits. Flight Commander Bette "Shooter" Davis walked back to where Razor was waiting by the Fat Lady. Tod "Maniac" Marr was lounging against the side of his TIE Interceptor, and Bette gave his boot a kick as she walked by. "Look sharp, our recuits will be here in a moment."

    yo ho yo ho a pilot's life for me

  2. #2
    Ulrhik Godsend
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    Slowly sliding his gloves on and securing them to the flight suit, Ulrhik checked the pressure valves on the suit once more before zipping it completely up. He glanced in the mirror of his locker at his face for a moment and observed how ordinary it was. Nothing sharp or really noticable about his features to draw attention to it, merely another face among the Empire.

    As an individual, Godsend was nothing, but as a pilot and a part of the Empire, he felt as if he were something on a much higher level than one person could ever be. He'd been through the Academy, not the most noticable for academics but his flight instructors quickly found where his true skill was. Ulrhik quickly earned the call sign "Dragon" for his attitude and seemingly invincibility in a TIE. He'd fought in several skirmishes against the rebels and in unbelievable odds not been scored once while flying a TIE Fighter or later the TIE Interceptors. But now, he stood aboard the ISD Termagent and was a new recruit to Shadow Squadron. Godsend was more than glad to be serving the Empire where he knew his skills would be put to the most effective use.

    He went ahead and slid on his helmet, he did not recognize himself as it being necessary for his wing mates to know him by face. In a TIE, a lifespan's survival rate dropped by a large margin. He turned out of the barracks and made his way to docking bay 187 at a doubletime pace.

    Arriving, he quickly found Flight Commander Davis and saluted to report in.

  3. #3
    Aliya Vahlshalynn
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    Vahlshalynn quickly went through the motions and suited up, giving her gear a once over before heading to the docking bay. It was just another day in the Imperial Navy. As fast as she had become the only surviving fighter pilot left from her squadron, she was already reassigned here to the Termagant. Her old Star Destroyer hadn't the manpower to support her. They were ordered to head to the nearest starport for repairs while she flew her Interceptor to her new home. It incurred little damage during the dogfight and Aliya was glad for that. There was no need to scramble a fighter for her.

    Aliya's helmet was snuggled between her left arm and side as she entered docking bay 187. With a snap of her boots together, she greeted her superiors with a crisp salute. "Captain Aliya Vahlshalynn reporting for duty, Ma'am!"

    She liked this new squad already. Since entering the Academy, Aliya had yet to serve with any other women. They existed but there were very few of them. For once, she didn't feel like an outsider and was more then thrilled to meet her Commanding Officer. Which meant one of two things. Either her and Davis would get along great or be at each other's throats.

  4. #4
    Zachariah Jak'el
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    Zachariah rolled out of his bunk and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He stuck his feet into his boots, buttoned up his flightsuit, and grabbed his helmet off the table next to his bunk. He half walked, half ran the whole way to hangar 187. His short cut black hair was a slight mess but his grey blue eyes were open and alert. He strode into the hangar bay and walked up to those already gathered "Colonel Zachariah Jak'el reporting for duty" He said with his boots together, his back straight, and his hand raised in a salute.

    The Claxons blared again reminding Zachariah, and others, that the battle was still going on outdoors. Fresh from the academy, Zachariah didn't have the combat experience that most veteran fighter pilots had, but he made up for this in skill and talent. It was because of his great abilities that he had been positioned on the Termagant. This being his first major battle made him slightly nervous but he hid emotions frmo his face and just stared straight ahead.

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    Echoes from the battle that had ended badly on both sides reverberated through the hangar. Everyone here had been touched in some way by the Rebel fighters - most of the new pilots had come from squadrons that had been nearly completely decimated. Command had been up these three hours since the end of the battle, re-organizing the squadrons, and filling the suddenly empty spots on Shadow Squadron.

    The loss of their fellow pilots ran deep, but the surviving members knew that there was time for grieving later. Bette stalked along the line of weary pilots, most of them woken from a few minutes shut eye after the battle. "As you know, Shadow Squadron is the most elite fighter squadrons in the Empire." She glared at the recruits, but the lines at the corners of her eyes suggested that she was just as tired as they were.

    "Elite doesn't mean invincible. You are getting a chance to fly with some of the best of the best. The frelling Rebels took some of us out, and now we're stuck with you. And you are stuck with us." Marr stood up straight finally, but only for a languid stretch. Bette walked back to stand with him, and Val Torre took her place.

    "We lost our leader, and they haven't issued us a new one yet. So for the time being, Flight Commander Davis and I are your direct superior officers. If you don't listen to us, you might get us all killed out there." Torre didn't stalk, but he did make eye contact with each pilot.

    "Some of you may have noticed that Flight Commander Davis is a female! Shadow Squadron does not put up with anyone who thinks women are less capable than men, and for that matter, she can probably kill you with her thumbs. Give her the respect due her position - she's earned it, as have the other two pilots here that are of the female persuasion.

    "That being said, we're to go out and sweep the battlefield for leftovers. Boobytraps, X-wing pilots left behind, and of course, any survivors. We're flying our standard TIE Interceptors today, so report to your fighters. We're bugging out in ten."

  6. #6
    Ulrhik Godsend
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    Beneath his helmet, Ulrhik grimaced at the mention of the women. He knew that Flight Commander Davis had been the woman who had spoken first, he recognized her position, but he had still seen too many women wash out or die in the academy and in the few battles he had seen them fight in. There was not much space in the Empire for the frailty of the stereotypical women but these were different, as Flight Commander Torre had said. Ulrhik noted their posture and form, much more aggressive than he'd seen in even male pilots before. He knew it would be difficult under the weight of statistical doubt but he would attempt to view them as capable.

    He nodded and saluted to Flight Commander Torre, double checking the latches on his suit and helmet before he made his way to where the TIE interceptors of Wing 3 were awaiting. Elite might as well mean invincible for Ulrhik, he had no intention of dying anytime soon. He desired that none of his wingmates met an untimely end but sometimes it came down to oneself when saving their own hide. He told the technicians standing by to do a double check on the whole wing though and not just his TIE just incase though.

  7. #7
    Jill Chambers
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    Jill Chambers pulled on her flight suit over her thin frame. As the suit squeezed her body, adjusting the pressure, she looked in the mirror and began to tie her long black hair into a bun. She pulled her gloves on and snapped them into place, listening to the slight hiss as they slid into place.

    After grabbing her helmet she quickly ran out of the door and down to the hangar. She could see several others jumping into their ships and shook her head, dissapointed in herself. "Late again Chambers. . .what's wrong with you?" She ran up to her commanders and stood at attention giving a salute to her superiors.

    "Lieutenant Jill "Stilleto" Chambers reporting in!" She said as she locked eyes with her commanders.

  8. #8
    Aliya Vahlshalynn
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    We're bugging out in ten.

    That was her cue and with a nod of respect to her superior, Torre, Aliya huffed it to her fighter. Two technicians were just finishing up on some minor repairs on the fighter that had been caused from its previous battle.

    Affectionally patting her TIE's left wing, she looked over the repairs herself. She never fully trusted anyone working on her ship since the incident on Chandrila. "How's it looking boys?"

    The one tech had just finished putting a new solar panel on the right wing and wiped his hands clean. "Good as new Captain. Damage was minor and we were able to finish it up in time for your run."

    Everything seemed in order and she looked it over with a critical eye twice to be sure. Satisfied, Aliya climbed into the ball of the cockpit. The other tech scrambled away with the fuel line, leaving the TIE ready for take off when the order was given. Strapping herself in and securing her helmet, Aliya began the pre-flight check and counted down till launch time.

  9. #9
    Tal Kellison
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    His hand strayed to the rank badge at his breast as it had countless times in the past few hours, almost as if the tactile sensations could offset the utter strangeness of the situation.

    Him, a Captain.

    Well, acting Captain in any case, and nominal commander of an entire ISD. If anything in life might make his father cry, it would be this. If only he were here now to offer guidance, perhaps he could make some sense of this world gone topsy-turvy.

    It wasn’t Kellison’s fault, of course. Fate had decided to play a cruel joke by simultaneously giving him everything he had ever dreamed of, while plunging everything he ever thought he had known into chaos. The Emperor, dead? The Death Star, crippled? Yesterday he would have thought these things impossible--today they were stark reality. But if fate had decided to play coy with him, fortune had again smiled warmly on him. There was no other way to explain it.

    Four years ago he had found himself transferred from his dream appointment upon the first glorious Death Star mere weeks before it had been destroyed by the contemptible rebels. And today, fortune was on his side again. It really shouldn’t have happened, of course, it was a one in a million chance. The Termagant’s bridge deflector shields had experienced a momentary shut-down, dropping for just enough time for a stray warhead to collide with the command deck. Mere meters had separated him from the fate of Captain Farard as a falling bulkhead broke loose and crushed the life from him. Kellison didn’t even think about what may have happened had his chance cube turn up the other way and he had been standing on the Captain’s left. It didn’t pay to dwell on past decisions. You were either fortunate or you were not.

    Tal Kellison was convinced he was in the former camp.

    Had the accident happened on any other day, little in his life would have changed, but today was not any other day. With his former commanding officer’s blood still spreading across the floor and the battle still raging, he had sent a frantic distress call to the Executor, requesting orders. The impatient Admiral, obviously occupied with more pressing matters, had a curt reply:

    “Well then, I guess you’re in charge now, Captain.”

    In his mind he was already spinning the situation. Before the month was out, he would have himself firmly convinced he had been promoted in a grand ceremony, with hundreds of Imperial officers in their finest dress uniforms looking on, with the sound of thunderous applause filling the great hall. After all, that’s the way it should have happened. He was clearly one of the finest men the Empire had ever seen. Had the Emperor not experienced an untimely demise, he was certain to have elected Kellison as his personal advisor before too long. He fingered the rank badge again, the rank badge that had formally adorned the breast of Captain Farard. But it was his now, and with the finest squadron of fighter pilots in the fleet under his command, he fancied he was now one of the most powerful men in the entire Imperial Navy.

    He supposed he should make his way down to the TIE hanger to see the new recruits. His superiors had wasted no time filling the slots vacated by several members of Shadow Squadron who had made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of the Empire. He half-hoped Commander Davis may have been one of those. She was habitually insubordinate and grated on his last nerve. Still, she was a damn good pilot and managed to reign in the egos of the others under her command.

    No, he took it back, he hoped she had survived. After all, he was a Captain now. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she found out.

  10. #10
    Teleran Balades
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    “Almost got it…..almost got it……..there” Dozens of dormant monitors flickered to life from three hours of slumber. Haggard, grimy faces blinked at the sudden change of lighting. Strewn throughout the bridge of the Mindflayer was a mess of debris. Power conduits randomly showered the many occupants with sparks of electricity. Burned out consoles billowed smoke choking those nearby. Bulkhead plating, wrecked crew seats, and broken bodies littered the deck.

    In spite of the strife people cheered, not out of triumph, but of the gratitude of being alive. Senior Commander Balades slapped the shoulder of a tech that was buried waist deep in the innards of the main control panel, the other hand holding a bloodied rag to the side of his head.

    “Good work. Everybody get to whatever stations are still running. Tell me what works and what doesn’t.”

    As men and a few women, both command crew and lowly deckhands, scrambled to find a working console, Balades helped the tech free himself from the ocean of wires. The commander gave a half-hearted smile. “You’re definitely getting a promotion after this.” The tech stumbled forward and slumped to the ground and looked up with blood-shot eyes, a relieved grin on his face. “Sir, I don’t care if I was made emperor, all I want is a weeks worth of sleep.”

    Tel chuckled lightly as he stepped away from the man. His gaze traveled the single holoprojector left on deck. Outside the ravaged hull of the Mind flayer was a mess of wrecked ships, both Imperial and Rebel, a grave yard for hundreds of thousands. Balades winced as what was left of the external cams zoomed in on the drifting hulk of the Acklay, the command ship of his battlegroup.

    Hushed whispers of awe and terror filled the room as people speculated on what who had won.

    “Sir, we’re picking up several signals, friendlies mostly. Activity is centered around the Termagant……damn, a few our group made it out too.”

    “Good, try and fire up the engines. Have the rest of our ships form up, we’re transferring to Termagant’s group.”

    A shudder rippled throughout the ship as massive ion engines roared to life. With the grace of a crippled ronto, Mindflayer’s battered hull slowly moved towards the ISD.

    The comm-system cackled to life and voices of rescuers and the trapped filtered through the speakers. Balades wearily flicked the broadcast switch.

    "This is Senior Commander Balades, my flight commander is dead and most of us can barely crawl out of here. I hope you don't mind any more floatsam tagging along."

  11. #11
    Taijin Daece
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    From orbit, Endor was a tranquil place. The entire surface of the moon was one rolling, green canopy. It wasn't until you got farther down into the atmosphere that you could see the blasted out, charred black hole pock-marking the otherwise prestine foliage.

    The Imperial compound at the center of the carnage was still in disarray, with enlisted troops and Stormtroopers busy picking through the wreckage of the generator. The shrapnel was scattered for kilometers. But here in the center, amid the blast craters and fallen AT-ST Walkers, there were countless bodies.

    Taijin Daece stood at the edge of the clearing, surveying the area in disbelief.

    "Ewoks..."

    He turned to the Stormtrooper standing next to him, still looking as if he was trying to process that word.

    "Frelling Ewoks..."

    Taijin was a tall, lean Zabrak, dark skinned with deep beige horns and black hair. He wore a forest camoflage duster over an assortment of field gear. And under that, noticeable only if you knew to look for it, was the uniform of an Imperial Officer.

    Not even four hours ago, the Rebels had fallen right into their trap. The war itself was so close to ending in one glorious maneuver it was almost euphoric. Then, somehow, a tribe of underevolved, primitive, and dare he say, cute little fuzzballs made fools out of an Imperial garrison.

    Reports were still sketchy on how the Rebels secured the generator. But they were pinned in long enough to sacrifice themselves and blow up the shield tower.

    At least, he didn't see how they could have gotten out.

    The amount of work ahead of the Empire down here would have been scheduled for months by any sane contractor. But with the Death Star hanging over them as vulnerable as it was, they had days at best. Days before, what, though, who knew?

    Rumors of the Emporer's and Vader's death grew louder and wider with every incoming report, causing the fear of immediate execution to lessen in direct proportion. But until told otherwise, they still had a job to do. Rhetoric aside, the Galactic Empire still meant something to these soliders.

    Taijin, for one, had worked too damn hard to get this far. For an alien, even a Zabrak to get officer's bars in the Empire was too big an achievement to give up on just because the winds shifted.

    The Recon Scout checked his rifle and looked up. Shadow Squadron was regroped already. He'd heard the order go out to sweep the field. Chances are they wouldn't stick around for guard detail too long after that, but with the new state of the chain of command, who knew.

    He wondered who was left on the roster after this one. Guess he'd find out soon enough.

  12. #12
    Zachariah Jak'el
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    Zachariah liked Commander Davis' attitude about things. He knew the power woman officers held. His previous squadron had been commanded by a female officer. His former squadron had been among the best but sadly during the battle to defend the deathstar; half his squadron had been wiped out by the ship know as the Millenium Falcon and it's flight of X-wings. The surviving members had been traded out to other squadrons and Zach got traded to Shadow.

    "Understood" He shouted before jogging over to the Tie Iterceptor that had been issigned to him. He had flow interceptors before but he had never flown this one before, His origal tie fighter had been too damaged to repair. He looked the ship over before climbing up and into the cockpit. "Looks ok so far" He said to himself as he pulled his helmet down onto his head "Now lets hope she flies like she should" He turned the power core on and sat back in his seat as the ship warmed up.

    He chined his comm "This is Shadow Eight. I am all green and ready to fly. Awaiting orders."

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    Bette slid her five foot six frame into her modified TIE Interceptor, the Maneater. The techs' had rigged it for atmosphere, but she didn't feel like trusting the technology at the moment. She sealed up her suit and helmet, tasting the too cold air that the regulator pumped into the helmet. She clicked on the comm, dialing into the squadron channel.

    "Shadows Six, Eight and Ten, form up on me when you clear the magnetic shields. Shadow Seven, you have point on your wing." She turned her head, lifting a hand to wave at Val's TIE as it zipped past her and out into space. Be safe. She fired up her engines and followed Shadow Eight out of the hangar.

    Once in the liberty of space she scanned the immediate area. It was free of debris, and therefore free of danger for the moment. "Newbies, try not to fly into each other." She chuckled to herself, and listened to Val talking to his wing. Maniac was singing something, but she tuned it out, focusing on her wingmates. Only one was familiar, Vance "Ripper" Emmerick had been a Shadow for two years. His best friend had died in what had turned out to be a suicide run on a Mon Cal cruiser. They'd lost exactly half of the squadron in a chilling turn of events.

    She'd done the math - it had been moments after the Emperor's death on the unfinished Death Star. She heard rumors that Palpatine had been able to help the Empire focus it's battle plans, but she was now convinced that he had been helping the battle along. When he'd kicked the bucket, things had started going awry in ships that couldn't possibly have heard the news.

    A squadron of squints had flown into Shadow Squadron, seemingly lost, and ... well, dwelling on the past never solved anything. Bette checked her scopes, her wingmates were formed up on her. "Ripper, take Jackal, I've got Dragon. If we have to split up, that's how it's going to be. Now, let's get started sweeping this battlefield of junk. Keep your sensors on full."

  14. #14
    Tal Kellison
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    The distinct whine of the TIE engines assaulted Captain Kellison as the turbolift doors opened.

    "What is the meaning of this!?" He yelled futily at the last of the departing craft.

    He'd have all of their heads; it was an outrage! Many of the pilots had just arrived, but the Shadow Squadron veterans damn well should have known better than to leave without first reporting to him. After all, they needed his words of advice, his motivational speach. The battle had ended, true, but danger still lurked around the corner of every derelict ship in orbit.

    "Commander, put Davis and the rest on report! I want them degreasing every piece of machinery on this ship."

    Of course, no one had followed him to the hanger, a fact he remembered only after the outburst had left his mouth. He'd have to write the infraction down, as he had a notoriously bad memory. Insubordination like this had to be punished. His thoughts were interupted by the comm screen behind him, which sprang to life with the face of an unfamiliar deck officer..

    "Sir, we just recieved a message from a Commander Balades, requesting permission to join us. He's piloting what's left of the Mindflayer."

    "Inform the Commander I'll contact him momentarily."

    "Aye, Sir"

    With and indignant huff, he turned on perfectly shined boots and returned to the lift. He would deal with Shadow Squadron later.

  15. #15
    Ulrhik Godsend
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    "Roger Flight Commander, I've got your wing Shooter."

    Ulrhik pulled his standard Interceptor up to Davis' wing and followed her out. Sensors were on full range and Godsend was not too particularily fond of the fact. Full range meant that any enemies lying in wait could see them coming kliks away. Interceptor's were manueverable but still...

    He eased the throttle and maintained pace with the Flight Commander, taking note of the other two, Ripper, a veteran of SS, and Jackal, a recruit like Dragon. Fortunately, Davis WAS Flight Commander and not a new recruit like them. amounting for more trust from Godsend.

    His sensors picked up the carcasses of a variety of ships but nothing useful, much less salvagable. It looked like the Rebels had left in just as much a hurry as the Empirials had pulled back, not taking mind to leave any boobytraps. The Rebels weren't that kind of fighter as a whole anyways. He gave them respect for using much more capable fighters and for their tactics in the past but they could have been so much better if they disregarded some of their weaker tendencies. Unfortunately for the Rebels, the Empire had the numbers and the collective skill to oppress them from achieving much.

    Survivors would probably be the only thing out here, Ulrhik predicted. And maybe one or two sly X-wings that couldn't jump before and just killed their engines to sleep it off until the Empire calmed down.

  16. #16
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    Tannis V'larr's Avatar
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    The battlefield at Endor had become an orbital graveyard. Imperial wreckage mixed with Rebellion to the point that it was difficult to tell which was which. Here and there ships were split in half like massive beasts disembowled, but most of the ravaged vessels were in pieces no bigger than a refrigerator. Any of those fragments posed a danger to TIE pilots, but the real danger was smaller--rivets, bolts, splinters of hull plating, pieces too small to be seen in time to avoid a collision. Even a chunk of metal the size of a man's fist could be devastating to a small craft traveling near .25c.

    Watcher Squadron was one of the TIE units that had been stranded in the shattered battlefield. Of the twelve Watchers, only five squints had survived the Battle of Endor. They had refueled near the end of the battle. That had been fourteen hours ago.

    "Adjust course. Heading two-one-zero mark one-seven-niner. Throttle 75 MGLT. Maintain visual scanning."

    If exhaustion was affecting First Lieutenant Tannis V'larr in any way, he didn't let on. His half-Sikarran heritage gave him what his human colleagues considered an unnatural mental focus, a clinical disposition toward any situation that had earned him the callsign "Professor." Tannis found such callsigns unnecessary, a mark of sloppiness in communication protocol, but he endured it. Humans required such traditions to maintain a sense of continuity and community.

    "Banshee to Professor. What the hell is the word from Timocracy? They said they'd call us in six hours ago!"

    "I queried Timocracy command when they failed to contact us," Tannis replied dispassionately. "I did so again two hours ago as protocol dictates. Judging from their lack of response, they have either lost communications or they are attending to more urgent matters. Until we receive new orders, we will maintain our patrol."

    "Screw command, sir, we're being ignored!"

    Tannis almost snapped off a blistering reprimand, but he thought better of it. His pilots were fatigued and likely in a state of mild shock over the battle. Whispers of the Emperor's death had reached the beleaguered Watchers--even though Tannis had emphasized that they had heard no confirmation, his pilots were nervous. Human psyches were fragile. It was more important now that he be a patient leader than a drill instructor.

    "The fleet is in disarray," Tannis said. "The first order of business for the flag officers is to assess their remaining forces; the second order is to see to the safety of our fleet; the third order is to look for survivors. We must adhere strictly to protocol or we risk adding to the chaos."

    Hopefully, his logic would cut through the emotional duress and lend them mental fortitude. But there were other matters to address.

    "In the meantime, however, we must see to our own needs. Watchers seven and nine, lock your navigational computers into mine. You will sleep for two hours, after which Watchers two and five will take a sleep-shift. I will alert you should our situation change."

    A chorus of half-hearted "Aye sirs" and two of the Watcher squints darkened for a two-hour nap. It was a compromise of protocol in a battlefield situation, but a necessary one.

    Tannis glanced upward at the mission clock on his HUD. Another two hours, and he would hail Timocracy again, then Haphaestus, or Tergamant, or any other command ship in the sector. He was damned if he'd let his squadron be ignored any longer.

  17. #17
    Zachariah Jak'el
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    "Yes, Ma'am" Zach said over the comm before falling in behind "Ripper". After he cleared the two other Inteceptors he flew moved his fighter until it was behind and to the right of Ripper's fighter.

    Zach had never seen so much space junk. The sight of the destroyed cruisers, frigates, and other warships sent a shiver down his spine. if the rebels had managed destruction on this scale with such a small fleet, he wondered what they could do with a large one. He wasn't one to think negative thoughts like that but the truth was the rebels had wiped the floor with them before they went packing themselves. He snapped his eyes away from the sight when he proxemity alarm sounded. "Crud" He said to himself when he saw the reason for the alarm. He was too close to Ripper's fighter "Great, now I look like a total newb" He eased up on the throttle until he was a decent distance from his wingmate.

    He opened a private channel to Emmerick, "Do you think we'll find any enemies out here?" He asked as he kept his eyes on his sensor monitor "So far I've sighted nothing."

  18. #18
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    Flight Commander Torre clicked on the comm. "All Shadow's I've just recieved word that the Mindflayer is going to be joining us. We're to escort it in. Shooter, take your wing and continue the sweep."

    "Roger that, Razor." Bette dipped her wings in response as the first two wings split off from their formation and flew towards the crippled craft that was making it's way towards the Termagant.

    Emerick chuckled, a dry rasping sound, as he replied over the private channel to his wingman. "Enemies - no. After a few hours in cold space everyone gets pretty happy to see anyone. Woah..." He looked down at his HUD and clicked over to the squadron's channel. "Head's up, we've got a bogey moving on the other side of that Mon Cal cruiser. Looks like we'll be - yep there he is. A TIE Defender."

    Shooter barked, "Ripper take Jackal and try to contact. Godsend, you're with me." She slammed her foot on the rudder pedals, and yanked the yoke up, spiraling up and over the derelict cruiser. She intended to come up behind the lonely Defender, to provide a stiffer escort.

    Vance opened up a general frequency channel. "TIE Defender pilot, this is Shadow Ten. Glad to find someone out here alive."

  19. #19
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    The radio chatter was a comforting presence in Tannis's headset. It told him the Empire was tending to its own, healing its wounds, beginning to set the fleet in order again. On his tactical radar he could see a new squadron scrambling to assess the battlefield--IFF tagged them as the Shadows, based off the ISD Termagant. He'd heard fantastic reports of their exploits against the Rebellion and other enemies of the Empire, but the Battle of Endor had been the first time he'd had the privelege of flying alongside them.

    He was about to make another course change when he picked up a bogey in the area--TIE Defender, must have been separated from its squadron. He paused to observe one of the Shadows peeling off to render escort.

    And then his HUD flashed a warning.

    "Watcher Lead to Shadow Ten, energy spike--"

    He couldn't even snap off a clipped warning before the rocket pod on the Defender's undercarriage flashed and spat out a concussion missile. The warhead bridged the gap between the Defender and Vance's interceptor like chain lightning, crashing through the squint's meager shields and canopy glass before detonating and tearing the fuselage to ribbons. Shadow Ten didn't have time to scream.

    Tannis hammered his yoke pedals to wheel his interceptor around. "Watchers, alert! Weaponsfire in sector nine! Pursue on my wing!"

    Watchers seven and nine were in for a rude awakening as their fighters, still locked with Tannis's, copied his neck-breaking maneuver. The other two Watchers, dulled by shock, followed a second afterward.

    The rogue Defender rocketed through the cloud of sparks and debris that had been Vance's fighter, angling crazily toward the thickest part of the ravaged fleet. Then the pilot's comm. channel opened, spewing a stream of manic babble.

    "The Emperor's black bones are broken! I see his ashes covering the stars! They're falling, falling! Everything's burning!"

    Another signal leapt across the ether. "This is Watcher Leader to Shadow Squadron. We have observed the situation and are closing on your position. How may we assist?"

  20. #20
    Ulrhik Godsend
    Guest
    Ulhrik maintained course with Davis as they pulled up and came behind the defender. Just as the defender came into the edge of their sight, it fired a concussion missle. Thousands of questions rushed through Ulrhik's mind as it slammed into Shadow Ten. It flew through the dust of the TIE interceptor and right past Jackal; the pilot screaming some nonsense about the death of the Emperor.

    "Wing Commander... engage the hostile?"

    All Ulrhik needed was the green. Davis had been wise enough to pull up behind the defender and now her and Ulrhik were right on his tail. Ulrhik had not know Ripper, only but the last few moments, but that did not mean he was completely disconnected from the loss of a wingmate. Shadow Squardon bore skill in its ranks and a loss meant the death of one more good pilot. This defender had no regard for that and Ulrhik felt like he needed to make him learn to respect that.

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