Briefing
- Begin Log: T5B4M3 - Old Friends?
Taan “Hawk” Ronar: Flight 4.1, Main P.O.V.
Taan walked into the Grey’s makeshift meeting place, a former briefing room that had temporarily been converted by the pilots to have somewhere to gather. Most of the Greys were there, talking quietly amongst themselves. The funeral services had certainly not been easy on anyone, least of all those who had known the deceased pilots best. Taan found Vender sitting and talking to some of the techs and walked over. “Hey, Ven.”
“Hey, Taan!” Vender replied. He looked at Taan quizzically as he sat down, shivering slightly. “Still a little shook up after the funeral?”
“It’s not just that.” Taan looked up at Vender, a grim look on his face. “Fion was a good friend and wingman, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully accept that he’s gone. I mean, I can still remember us doing recon missions in Crimson.”
“That’s not the only thing bothering me, though.” Taan continued. “I have this... feeling. I first felt it when Spinel showed up, and it’s only gotten stronger. It’s as if I can sense her evil and hatred. This ship is covered in a sort of darkness. Everywhere I go I feel it. It’s especially strong as I get closer to Spinel herself. Even though she’s in stasis, she still radiates hate.” Taan shivered again and pulled his knees up to his chin. “This whole Force thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Vender grimaced. “Wish I could help you, Taan. If you want help with all things Force related, Castor’s the man to talk to. His ‘master of the tunnels’ certainly taught him a fair bit.”
Taan managed a small smile. “You’re probably right. I’ll see if he’s not too busy now.”
“Sir, one of the pilots is here to see you.”
“Send him in,” Castor replied to Lessa.
Taan walked in and the Admiral motioned for him to sit down. “What’s on your mind, Taan?”
“Well sir, that’s just it. Did I ever tell you that I’ve been dabbling a little in the ways of the Force?”
Castor raised an eyebrow. “Dabbling can be a dangerous thing. What exactly do you mean?”
Taan coughed a little nervously. “Not anything serious, mainly meditation and other passive things. I’ve noticed I have slightly faster reflexes than I did before, though nowadays you need Jedi reflexes just to survive. But more importantly, I’ve been sensing certain things. I’ve felt the darkness on this ship, as I’m sure you have. I seem to be able to sense people’s emotions too, which is something I wasn’t aware Jedi could do. I knew they could read minds, but emotions...”
Castor rubbed a hand along his stubbly chin. Since the takeover of the Widow, his original hair hadn’t grown back, though specks of red could be seen in the beginnings of his infamous moustache. “A Jedi’s abilities are endless if he is truly connected with the Force. Each person has a different strength. My Force abilities are primarily for self preservation, for example. Yours seems to be empathic, in other words you can sense emotions at a heightened level.” The Admiral sighed before continuing. “Unfortunately, this means you are exposed to, and affected by, other’s emotions more than normal people. I can imagine these past few days have been hard enough without this.”
Castor stood up, signaling that the meeting was over. “I suggest you don’t worry about it too much for now, but dabble with all due caution. We’ve got another mission, so head to the briefing room. We’ll continue this later.”
Taan nodded and left the room, more questions swirling around in his head now than before.
“Control, this is Thorn Four, awaiting launch orders.” Taan did some final pre flight checks and peered through the transparisteel at the front of his cockpit. The Black Widow’s hangar was far different from the standard Calamari Cruiser hangar that he was used to. Despite this being nothing more than a clean up mission that didn’t even have any expected resistance, he wasn’t feeling too excited about it. Given Grey’s track record so far this campaign, nobody would have blamed him.
Thorn Four, this is Control. You are cleared to launch. Happy hunting, and don’t fall asleep out there from lack of activity. You could almost hear the smile on Jila Cosa’s face.
“Roger that Control, if I start flying in a straight line wake me up would you?” Taan fired up his engines as the clamp released him. The TIE Avenger went soaring out of the hangar and pulled around immediately to attack the depot. With its shields down and systems disabled, the X7 factory was an easy target. Taan fired streams of lasers across the length of its main hull, punching holes in the main shaft which vented atmosphere. A few well placed shots to the main generator finished it off, the factory exploded and sent debris everywhere. A couple of strafe runs on the containers put four of the craft out of the way, and Taan was just beginning to think this might go as planned when an MC80 Cruiser came out of hyperspace, carrying an Imperial IFF. ...and Tourmaline, as Taan found when he closed to inspect it.
“Uh, Control...” he began.
We see it, Thorn Four. We’re launching the other fighters now to assist. Be aware, nine triwings have just exited the cruiser’s hangar and are heading your way.
“Roger that.” Taan cursed silently. Everything was so close to working for once...
I suppose you’re going to need help taking on a mere nine Trips, Hawk?
Taan recognised the voice immediately. “I could take them on in my sleep Dave, but I’m such a generous guy I’m going to let you have one or two of the kills.”
Gee, thanks. Whoever gets the least kills buys drinks when Tess gets a bar set up.
“You’re on.” Taan watched one of the Trips get too close to the Black Widow, which was doing evasive maneuvers to get away from the Cruiser’s guns. The Widow hooked it’s nose around, and swatted the unsuspecting triwing. “Looks like Castor’s beating us so far. How about we change that?”
Try and stop me. Dave’s TIE Interceptor broke away to chase one of the enemy fighters attacking the ISD, while Taan’s Avenger pulled around to face the three triwings forming up to attack him. A burst of laser fire at the lead fighter forced it to pull up before it was even a kilometer near him, and fire from the other two forced Taan to do likewise.
GREY! LASER CONTROL HAS BEEN LOCKED OUT! WE HAVE MINIMAL GUNS!
“Sithspit!” Taan pulled sharply around after finishing off the first wave of fighters. The scene before him was not encouraging: the Phelangida was firing all cannons at the Black Widow, which could barely defend itself against the fighters attacking it. Taan adjusted his shields forward and headed for the cruiser, concentrating his fire on the gun turrets. He managed to pierce the shields and disable the nearest gun turret, weakening the Phelangida’s attack slightly. The process would have been much faster if not for the frequent interruptions by the Trips, who forced Taan to constantly break off his attack and dispatch them.
Greys, we’re at fifty percent shields here.
“We’re working on it Control! Give us some more time.” Taan destroyed another turbolaser and dodged a burst from a remaining turret before an unexpected arrival appeared out of nowhere.
Taan opened up a channel to the rest of the Greys. “Considering the ships we’re fighting with and against, I wouldn’t be surprised if that Interdictor was on our side.” He commented with a note of cynicism.
Castor’s voice came a second after Taan finished. All fighters, do not fire on the Spiculum! Repeat, do not fire on the Spiculum!
Taan raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. This whole campaign was upside down anyway. He was a little confused by the ship’s reported commanding officer though; who or what was Hope? He put the thought at the back of his mind and concentrated fire on the Phelangida, and with the help of the Spiculum the cruiser soon had its shields down. With its supply of triwings depleted and the few remaining enemy fighters being swarmed upon by Grey, the tide finally seemed to be turning. The two capital ships, along with Taan and some of the Greys, made short work of another of Malachite’s assets, albeit a slightly strange one for an Imperial warlord, known to value pride over resourcefulness.
Shortly after the Phelangida was destroyed, and Tourmaline with it, the Sapphire entered from hyperspace, carrying Greedo on board. The Sapphire’s obvious destination was the Interdictor, whose timely arrival and mysterious personnel still eluded Taan and everyone else with the apparent exception of Greedo and Castor. Taan maneuvered his ship into the Widow’s hangar, eager to get to the debriefing and have some questions answered.
*************************
Dave Trebonius-Astoris: Flight 4.2, alternate p.o.v.
Dave hunkered down into the seat of his Tie Advanced, and tried to relax. Bigfoot was out on the milk run, and he didn’t feel like being bothered. He almost unconsciously followed the reports as Taan followed through a pre arranged flight plan, methodically filling each empty shell of a vessel out in the space yard with laser fire. His head must have dropped into a rather unnatural position, because Tacomah’s voice filtered uncertainly over the comm, “Dave? You can’t fall asleep right now, ya know.”
Dave knew without looking up that Tacomah was strapped into the fighter beside him. “I’m not asleep. Don’t bother your elders.” He heard Tacomah chuckle, and inside his helmet Dave smiled. They’d all done far too little chuckling recently. Dave was taking it upon himself to ensure that morale didn’t dip too low, despite the recent spat of losses. He had taken the losses of Slyder and Trace especially hard. He gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t think about that now.
The cry of launch the squadron broke into the reverie and the pilots immediately snapped into action. Without hardly waiting for the go ahead from Control, Dave and Tacomah launched into space. ...and almost directly into a Calamari Star Cruiser.
“Let’s straddle her,” Dave called out on the comm. In response the Thorn fighters swept out, half going around the top of the beast and the other half curving under the bottom. On the other side the Thorns began spitting laser fire into the mass of triwings that were still flying in formation. Dave knew that once the dogfight started, however, the shielded Tie Fighters wouldn’t stand much chance against those Trips.
I got one Cruiser firing on the Widow. Four-Two, help me neutralize its guns so the Widow can escape, Biggy’s voice floated in over the comm. And Dave acknowledged, leaving Tacomah to mix it up with the Trips. He moved in concert with Bigfoot to help neutralize the Cruiser’s guns.
Shortly thereafter, an Interdictor hypered in. Interdictor is friendly, Control announced in a predictably dour fashion. Must be the Interdictor we left at the beginning of this whole jive, Dave thought to himself absent mindedly. Then again, why would it be out here? And does that mean we can’t get back out? At any rate, with the Cruiser’s threat somewhat neutralized, Dave returned to attacking the triwings. The little starfighters were almost painfully fast, and their tough shields clearly said that they meant business. It took some time to clear them out, but once they were gone the mission seemed completed.
Dave doffed his helmet after hopping out of his craft, and immediately started winding his way through corridors. He didn’t have to ask for directions. If anybody knew the interior of an Imperial starship, he believed he could make such a claim. Within minutes he was outside the Captain’s suite, where the crew had forced Castor to take up haphazard residence. The first thing Dave encountered was a wraith of a person. “Ah... Ms. Kylara, a pleasure to finally meet with you again.” He began cordially.
After deciding that Dave presented no immediate threat, the warrior relaxed somewhat. At least enough to reply, “The pleasure is all mine, of course.”
Dave smiled. “I heard of your gory exploits during the capture of the Widow.”
Lessa intentionally ignored the shade of sarcasm relating to the fact that most of her kills had been droids. “Just doing my job.” She shrugged almost nonchalantly.
“And your job includes working insane hours without sleep?” Dave asked questioningly.
“As do all of our jobs.” She fired back.
“True, true,” Dave conceeded. “Such is the price of duty.” Lessa rustled in her armor, but made no reply. “Are you going to let me in to see Castor?” Dave ventured. “Or would you prefer to frisk me first?” He had the satisfaction of seeing Lessa roll her eyes before she stepped aside and let him into the room.
Castor was just exiting the refresher. “Dave! I was just about to go down to debrief. What can I do for you?”
Dave smiled wanly, “For starters, I was thinking maybe an identification of the mystery Interdictor. Then we could continue with a discussion of why the Widow seems to be combat incapable, and then perhaps round it all off with a light white wine.”
Castor threw his head back and laughed, “Of course! Probing questions buried in dry humor. Should have expected it!” Throwing his arm around Dave’s shoulders and steering him toward the door from which he had just entered, he continued “And why don’t we have a little chat on the way down to debrief. I can’t promise all will be answered, but I know that for an old man like you I might be able to do a little some...” Castor broke off with an “oof” as Dave prodded him in the ribs.
“No badgering the old people!”
Castor smiled indulgently. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to upset your delicate disposition. Sir.”
“Castor...”
**************************
Adam “Vender” Fene: Flight 3.1, alternate p.o.v.
Vender stroked his chin as he sat ready and waiting for any situation that would allow him to launch. An Avenger was sent out to destroy the factory and containers, and his part in all of this was starting to make him yawn. He could understand the reasoning though, as they had to conserve as much resources as possible. There was no telling if at some point there would be a point in this battle where it would take every scrap of resource they had. Wasting it foolishly was just bad tactics.
Once again he checked over his instruments and oxygen tank as a confirmed kill on a container was made. Rechecking, he made sure his flightsuit didn’t have any holes, and fanned some cool air into his helmet as another container kill was once again confirmed.
As soon as this is done, I’m going to get a snack. Vender thought to himself. He didn’t need it, but he felt hungry. Butterflies for the lack of being in the battle. Nodding, the check over his Interceptor looked in top notch order, and once again he overheard control confirming the last container kill. Next would be the Container Transport, and then...
Control must have spotted something wrong, as they began screaming into the comm. Grey Flight Three! Launch now! Now! Now!
Vender wasted no time as the arm dropped him out of the Black Widow and into space. A Calamari Cruiser had jumped in system and immediately started launching trips. “Oh, man! Not again. No. I really need an Avenger.”
The Cruiser Phelangida looked like it was MC80 class, a common design, but in every way unique. The Black Widow would be able to blast it if they engaged, so Vender’s next immediate thought was to engage the Trips, and draw them away from the depot so that the other Greys could finish taking it out. Flight Five was a backup, in Bombers in case this
situation happened.
“Good tactics. Too bad our enemy has none.” Vender again thought as he threw warning shots across a Trip, best he could. They were hard to hit in the slower Interceptor. “They may have some speed on me, but our maneuvering is the same. If I can get them to slow down to my speed the better pilot will have the advantage.”
Vender knew the Bombers were coming out soon, but they were still too close to the depot. If the Trip pilots realized they were coming out, they would go straight for them, in all likelihood. “Got to get their attention..” Vender dropped his shields for the extra speed, pulling him to almost equal throttle as the Trips. “A linked fire should do it..” He thought.
“Thorn 3.2, drop your shields and match speeds to the Trip and start firing dual shots.” Vender was going for the wounded rabbit look once again. As their shield energy decreased the Trip pilots would realize a few shots would take them out completely, giving them less to worry about.
Vender? What? Are you nuts? Ray replied.
“You’ve survived this long with me in the lead, Taan. Please don’t question me. Just do it.” Vender ordered sternly. Without paying much more attention, he began executing his plan within minutes of just leaving the Black Widow. He fired off a few shots that lit up the aft of a Trip. The pilot obviously felt that as he broke off his attack on a lone Grey Avenger. Another shot struck the Trip from the bottom, and another again at his side as he turned while Vender & Taan continued their assault.
Vender breathed calmly and noticed many other Trips starting to move in on them.
Uhh... Vender... Now what? Ray asked with no little bit of sarcasm.
*****************************
Rensal “Bigfoot” Darklighter: Flight 1.1, alternate p.o.v.
I walked into the ready room and saw the looks of my fellow pilots trying to cheer me up. “Thanks, guys! I need it more than you know.” I said. But I still couldn’t even think about smiling. Just over six hours ago, we sent five more of our fellow pilots to their graves in space. Included among this group, my cousin. I’d been in a virtual daze walking around thinking of the great times and all the fights me and Alty had survived through.
“We all miss her very deeply, Biggy.” Said Taan. And the others muttered agreement.
“Thanks, again. I haven’t looked yet. Who has the lonely job while the rest of us stays here?” I asked.
A pained look was on Dave’s face. “I believe Taan got the short end of the stick. Guess Castor thought he could use the target practice to get rid of his anger.”
“See if you can bring your Bright out with him, since you’ll undoubtedly be flying it in case we have company.”
“He won’t, I already asked. We’ve got to conserve fuel.” Said Dave.
“Well, we all better be sitting there lit and ready to go. We are going to get jumped. I know it! These are the missions that hurt the most normally.”
“I’ll be ready!” yelled Ace.
“May the Force be with us, if we need it!” I said and headed towards my fighter.
-------
As I entered the hanger bay, I noticed the techs taking the missiles out of our ships and putting them back into the storage area. “Where ya going with those missiles? I need them out there in case were jumped!”
“Admiral Orders, Pilot. He says if you have them you’ll use them. You’re likely going to need them more later on.” Said Captain Ra.
As I climbed into my newly repaired, and one of the few remaining, TIE Fighters, I muttered loud enough for the Captain to hear. “Don’t blame us pilots if we’re hard on these fighters this mission.” I got a dirty look as I fired up the ion engines and ran my diagnostics while waiting for the launch order I knew was going to come.
--------
Control... Four-One here. I am starting my runs on the containers and the freighter.
Copy Eight. Be quick.
As ordered, Control.
Five minutes later... Starting on the Container Transport, Control. Everything else is gone.
Copy Four-One.
He got two shots off at the factory when everything turned south.
Grey! We have incoming break off!
Uh...Control? Taan yelled..
Launching! Greys. We’re taking heavy fire!
I have nine Trips on my scan, guys! Came the call from Ace in the Flight 1.3 Fighter.
“I got one Cruiser firing on the Widow! Four-Two, help me neutralize its guns so the Widow can escape. Everyone else, tie up the Trips!”
As every acknowledged my orders, I swooped down and started loading energy into the upper turret as Dave poured energy into the laser batteries on the bow.
We’ve lost weapons control! We only have very minimal guns!
“Copy, Control! Weapons neutralized, but we are going to have a time keeping this cruiser in the area!”
Incoming Interdictor is freindly! Do not fire!
“Nice timing! Don’t you say, Four-Two?”
I agree! Now lets take this cruiser out so we can go and help out the rest of our squad!
Flights One, Two, Three, and Four, go ahead and attack the Trips. Four-One can handle the cruiser.
Why can’t I have missiles? I asked myself as I slowly chased the Triwings. After ten minutes, Taan finally got the thing destroyed. Then he took out the factory in about two minutes, then the Freighter, and then joined us with the Trips. “Status, One-Two.”
Four Trips left, Lead.
“Let’s get these last Trips mopped up, and get out here!”
I copy!
---------
As I set the Avenger down, the pit crew ran away as Ra stopped right in front of my fighter and I climbed out. After looking over my scarred fighter he complained. “What do I have to do to teach y’all to treat these babies right?”
“To begin with Captain, I think we need to discuss missiles.”
***************************
Lessa Kylara: Additional p.o.v.
Lessa stayed close to Castor as he went down the corridor. She finally was able to be assigned as his body guard. Since he had brought her back her blades, she had this sense of a desperate need to make sure he was okay. Probably because Lessa never usually felt as week as she had at that moment, nor as relieved to see the broad shoulders of Castor coming through the door. She also felt like she was paying him back for saving them every time she jumped in front of him to cut off assassin droids, literally, and to make his path safe and clear. Her usually smiling face was much more serious as she walked with Castor today.
When they finally reached the bridge and the Star Destroyer's Command Room, Castor turned to her, told her she was relieved from duty, and to go get some rest. Lessa barely paid attention as she quickly looked around to make sure nothing suspicious was lurking around. She briefly wondered how he could possibly expect her to get some rest and leave him open to harm. With a barely audible sigh, Lessa looked around again. He had taken her eyes off of the surrounding area just to repeat his wish for her to rest. As she quickly glanced back at him, she could see he was watching her, waiting for a reply. So she did. Just the same way she did when anyone else thought she couldn’t do her job effectively.
"Good." She responded with a slight smile. "Because it's really distracting." He’s down! She imagined she could hear one of her Shockmates yell when she all too often fired off a scathing retort to a deserving recipient. And then she remembered who she’d just verblasted. But even though she was tired enough to verblast the Admiral, he hadn’t been the first high ranking Officer. And he probably wouldn’t be the last. But she felt very protective of the Admiral and tolerant of his tiredness in not appreciating the danger he may be in. She went on watching the area closely. She pretended not to notice when Castor stood there blinking for a moment looking a little shocked and then sighing sat down at his new desk, but smiled to herself again.
Tess showed up a short time later very agitated. "Ah, Lessa dear! I must see the Admiral immediately." He said impatiently. Lessa had a soft spot in her heart for Tess. But, if she didn't know him so well, and know his intentions were honorable, she would still never let him near the Admiral. Still, she thought Castor needed rest. However, Castor hearing Tess's agitation, motioned for Lessa to let him in. As she once again resumed her watchful eye, she tried not to grin as Tess complained in his usual dramatic way about the bar.
After Tess came and went, Lessa felt that Castor might finally get some needed rest. His office was part of a suite that they had all kind of forced Castor to claim, knowing it would at least allow him to rest between meetings and strategies.
A short time later, Dave showed up however. He was his usual friendly self. Lessa liked him. He had a pretty good sense of humor and she admired that in a person. She had not seen him in a while though. And, now, she was dead serious as Castor's body guard. He spoke to her very friendly and she responded somewhat relaxed. He was, after all, a good friend of, and very loyal to the Admiral. As they talked she knew he was picking on her.
"Are you going to let me in to see Castor, or do you want to frisk me first?" He asked mischievously. Rolling her eyes at him, Lessa stepped aside to let him into the room. He didn't hear her chuckle as she turned away once more toward the door.
***************************
Jila Cosa: additional p.o.v.
For the first time in days I had real free time, and no idea what to do with it. There was, of course, the memorial services for the Greys who had died during the last mission, which I attended, and the reprogramming of a few droids that went berserk at the worst time and repairing a few others, but other than that it was complete downtime for me.
I decided that sleep was what I needed right then. Especially since I'd been told by Captain Ra and the Admiral himself that sleep was a priority; to get it when I could 'cause there was no telling when situations would arise where I wouldn't be able to. And we'd already run into one of those. I went back to my quarters, used the fresher, and laid on my bunk. Sleep did not come easy. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see were our fighters exploding. I knew it wasn't my fault, I was only the messenger, but I still couldn't stop thinking about them. After hours of fitful sleep I stopped fighting and got out of bed. I hoped that later there would time to try again.
But now what would I do?
I kind of wanted to explore the Black Widow but I was a little afraid that Shock might have missed something in their scans, and I'd find. And wish I hadn't. Yes, this was a crazy idea, Shock never missed a trick, but I felt I ought to keep to the areas I knew for now. There was the gym... and the new Shock training area, but I'd learned my lesson with that place. Shock trains Way Too Hard, and you have to be absolutely literal when programming their computer.
No. Exercise wasn't what I needed right now. Maybe just a place where I could sit and listen to the off duty crew and the Greys talk like they used to in the Aragorn's Bar & Grill. Talk about the last mission, and those who were lost. I sighed. I knew a place like the B&G hadn't been set up yet, but I had gotten to know Tesserak pretty well before the switch to the Black Widow, and he would be working on that very problem right now, I was sure. So...
I pulled out my datapad and clicked on the schematics for the Black Widow that I had been given earlier. Then I tapped in my request for Tesserak's location. In just a couple of seconds his PLD blip showed where he was. I shook my head.
I might have known. The room where his PLD blipped was quite large. He's either scoping the place out, or he must have BS'd the Admiral big time to get that room. I then tapped into my datapad a request to see who else was in the room. Nobody but service droids. Okay, maybe there is something I can do after all. I followed the Black Widow's schematics out to the room where Tesserak's PLD still blipped. As I walked through the door I was amazed at the work that had been done. Amazed, why? Everybody knew that the IMPs weren't big on recreation or socialization, and this room looked very comfortable already. But I was totally surprised when Tesserak's voice came from behind me.
"Ahh Jila Cosa, I was just thinking about you."
Damn, when would people stop sneaking up on me! "Tesserak!" I almost yelled as I spun around. "How'd you get back there?" He only shook his head and gave a sly grin. "And what do you mean you were just thinking of me?" I asked in a much calmer voice. "Did you know I was coming?"
Tesserak winked, shrugged, and tapped the side of his head. "I'm a gotal." He said by way of explanation, and chuckled. "I was thinking of you because the Admiral has most kindly given me permission to set up a new establishment and has given me a few droids. I would like them programmed for bar service, if you could do this old, and growing even older by the minute, homeless barkeep one teensy little favor. That is your secondary, is it not?"
"You know it is." I grinned back. "I figured that was what you were up to so I came down to see if I could help. Guess I figured right." Tesserak showed me which droids would now work for him and I got down to work. I connected my datapad to the first droid and merely added to its program. When I was finished these droids would answer to Tesserak's orders first, and then to the orders of others, unless, of course, those orders came from the Admiral, through his droid Katie or otherwise.
The next project I helped with was to set up the glassware that some of the droids had found in the crew's mess hall. Nobody would miss them as nobody would probably eat in the mess hall anyway. I knew that this place would see much more business now than it ever did back on the Aragorn. By the time I'd finally made it back to my quarters, I knew that I could finally lay down and get some much needed rest. I hoped that there was still time. Incredibly enough, there was plenty. I was fully rested, had used the fresher again, dressed, and even had a decent meal by the time my datapad beeped for me again.
...REPORT TO TACOPS...
Thank goodness they knew that I still hadn't gotten the route memorized yet and had given me plenty of time. That's what I'll do with my next free time, memorize the route to TacOps I chuckled softly. I grabbed my headset and checked out the different lights in the holotank.
*****************************
End log: T5B4M3
Battle 4, Mission 4: Buoys Will Be Buoys
by R.C.Miller (Castor@RebelSquadrons.org)
A Grey Squadron, of the Rebel Squadrons, Additional Text Briefing
for Grey Squadron’s add-on Mission 4, Battle 4, Tour 5
for the Star Wars TIE Fighter Combat Simulator game.
The reunion with Horvath and the crew they’d had to release to the Interdictor they’d captured was necessarily brief. But that didn’t prevent Castor from enthusiastically greeting the Spiculum’s command team as they came aboard. Nor could it have lifted a heavier load from Castor’s shoulders that the Horvath had bought a large number of personnel which, while the number would have been quite sufficient for a Calamari Cruiser, particularly the Aragorn, would almost adequately satisfy the current lack on the Black Widow. By the time Castor, the department commanders of both ships, Grey, and General Greedo finally met in the huge main conference room, which required a new complete sound system and microphones at every station, most of the excitement had eased.
“The first thing I’d like to address is the recent weapons failure,” Castor began while the attendees murmured among each other. “Just seconds before we actually needed the Widow’s turbolasers, Lieutenant Commander Shi’asa found that the weaponry required a special access code which hadn’t been there earlier. Her assumption was that the Phelangida had apparently overridden the bridge control, and rigged a surprise for us. She found that the use of the weaponry without this code would cause an explosion in one of the missile bays which was located near the power plant cooling control system.” Gasps were heard throughout the hall.
“So, Comp/Comm Lead was forced to shut down the weapons control until she could find and supply the code. As it happened, Chiri was able to extract the code from Spinel’s datapad, but only after the immediate need for it had passed. Apparently, the Phelangida command remotely activated a defense sequence which was already in place.”
“Lieutenant Commander Shi’asa.” Castor called.
“Yes, Sir!” The bothan stood quickly, saluting with a wide swing of her arm.
“You have my commendations for your timely recognition of the problem, your alacrity in preventing disaster, and finding the solution.”
“Thank you, Sir!” The bothan saluted again and sat back down, trying very hard not to grin.
“Humph!” Greedo said, and mumbled something no one quite heard. But no one asked him to repeat what he’d said.
“The Spiculum,” Castor continued. “According to Mister Horvath’s report, had waited at the junction, but his command team had started worrying about several hull stress points, which were speculated would fail long before we were expected to return. Not being able to communicate with us directly without alerting Malachite’s entire organization in this area as well, they made the decision to leave the site and meet with a mobile Squadrons repair facility. They had sent messages ahead, once they’d cleared the nebula, concerning both their needs and ours that they knew of, and were able to acquire most of what they’d requested from the Squadrons directly. Minimum necessary repairs were done quickly, and when they returned to Malachite’s hyperspace junction they found the Sapphire waiting alone there.”
Greedo mumbled a few other things, of which only a few spat invectives were even slightly audible.
“The General then supplied a number of coordinates where he believed we might end up, providing we were successful in taking Spinel’s Star Destroyer. The repair crew had set up the Interdictor’s transponders to give us clues, but not obvious ones, in case they showed up in an area who’s total population did not include us. Hopefully, the similarity to Malachite’s craft would give the Spiculum enough time to leave the area they’d entered while the already present craft were trying to sort out the details and decide whether the Interdictor actually was one of theirs.”
“The General had recently made use of a set of Malachite’s nav chips, and was able to trace the Sapphire’s hyperspace route using a recording device he’d installed to monitor the maneuvering thrusters. The Spiculum caught up with us at its second stop, the first having been a navigational buoy site, where no enemy craft were present. Upon review of the facts, it seems very lucky that the Spiculum did not meet up with any of Malachite’s ships, because they would surely have not delayed in attacking the Interdictor.”
“Humph!” The General said again.
“I’d also like to review the fact that there are no real coordinates in this area of dead space which contains Malachite’s Star Hammer project. All navigation is done by keeping track of distances, angles, and the rates of change in them. Since there are no visible stars to navigate by, or calculate against, it’s all a matter of blind four dimensional geometry on a grandiose scale. Any miscalculation, and it’s entirely possible that it could take years to find our way back to known space.”
Mumbles and murmurs had been punctuated with short comments as people among the group realized the enormity of the potential problem.
“Admiral, I still can’t figure out how you knew not to fire on the Spiculum,” Bigfoot spoke up, not being much concerned about the navigational situation. There were others who’s job is was to lose sleep over that particular thing. “I couldn’t get any kind of a reading on that ship through the sensors. It just showed up as an unknown with a name that sounded like all the rest of the craft that we’ve seen lately.” Rensal sat back expectantly with one hand on the table in front of him.
“Well, so far, all of Malachite’s ships that we’re seeing are named after arachnids - insectoid predators known for spinning complicated webs to trap their victims rather than actively hunt - of one type or another, or their distinctive parts. Katie keeps me far more than well informed on this, as she runs an almost constant commentary on the subject whenever a new craft is identified.” The group chuckled in their own fashions at Castor’s intimation that his droid’s discussion on the subject was more tolerated than required. “But when she pointed out the discrepancy, or rather the inconsistency, it became clear that it was almost certain to be Horvath and crew.”
“Yah. But how?” Ray Djo blurted out.
“A spicule is a small slender sharp-pointed body.” Castor explained. “A thorn-type projection; the operative word there being thorn. The Spiculum came in showing blue on our sensors, much the color of a sapphire, and should have shown up blue on Malachite’s craft as well, leaving everyone uncertain as to just who the Interdictor belonged to. Agreed that all of these facts are leaps of logic, highly coincidental, and based on a high degree of luck. But in Katie’s run of definitions and origins, she mentioned that while spiculum may be used to describe parts of certain rare arachnids, it far more often refers to the spiny projections on certain crustaceans, mammals, and those on the heads of rodians.”
Tacomah spoke up. “Admiral, you said something a bit ago that don’t sit good on this side of the fire.”
“Yes, Tacomah?” Castor prompted.
“Well, sir,” Tacomah began. “You said arachnids do webs. Anyone else think that we might be in one, and just not hooked it yet?”
“Hmm...” Castor thought for a moment. “You’re right, of course, P2. Those thoughts have been foremost on my mind lately.”
At that moment, as if having remembered something quite important, Greedo stood and left the room. All eyes watched his exit, some eyebrows lifted in questioning surprise, and Castor himself wondered about the significance of the rodian’s timing. Silence reigned for a few moments before Castor turned back to the group and continued the meeting, getting the new personnel their assignments and reorganizing the crew, along with permanently changing the name of the Spiculum (which everyone agreed sounded like something someone might cough up from the base of diseased lungs) to the Widow’s Web.
---------------------------------
...GREY SQUADRON TO THE BREIFING ROOM...
...GREY SQUADRON TO BRIEFING...
Castor stood in front of the Greys again; at least those Greys who were not presently confined to the bacta tanks. He’d already gone over the list of items that they’d been able to take from the Spinel’s depot.
“I mentioned before the tug that had docked with the Pedipalp as we entered. The Pedipalp was one the first craft to be disabled, and the attached tug did not have the time to run. The technician that had transferred to the Pedipalp was extremely informative without our having to resort to extreme coercion. Although the presence of the wookiee commando, Kanashaak, may have had something to do with that.”
The Greys nodded their agreement. Although no one knew every member of the entire crew, the giant wookiee was someone that almost everyone knew. Kanashaak was enormous, well over half again as tall as a normal human and a full head and shoulders taller than the average wookiee. Almost everyone stood to the side of the corridors, which Kanashaak occasionally had to duck through, so as not to interfere with his passage. Kanashaak, although lean, was one of the strongest of Shock, able to twist five centimeter wide ‘I’ bars into pretzel knots. He was also startlingly quick, and he moved with a soundless and deadly grace. The whole package, particularly the long fangs, made for a very frightening image, which Castor thought the giant must at times be self conscious of, but knew that Kanashaak could, would and did play very well to it when it was advantageous. Especially during the interviews of enemy computer techs who held vital information.”
“It seems that Malachite is rather conscious about project security, and has a number of his installations relocated on a regular basis. The standard operating procedure is to have a NavBuoy link give the coordinates to the new location. To actually have this method make any sense at all, the NavBuoys themselves, along with their protecting mines, are relocated as well. When ever a relocation happens, Malachite’s depots are given single use data chips which hold the coordinates to the nearest link point, and will automatically send the appropriate authorization codes.”
“The chip allows the craft to jump to the buoy link where it then picks up the location of the craft’s destination. The buoy’s protection will automatically fire on any craft not responding with the correct authorization codes, or, alternatively, might give coordinates to the center of a large asteroid. This, then, is why we can’t have the chip installed. The chips, in and of themselves, are simple and carry no false sets of coordinates, the procedure to install and access the authorization codes correctly takes an expert. While we do want to trust the coordinates inside the chips, we don’t particularly want to trust the tech that far, who is our only current source of information on the procedure.”
“Hmm...” Dave said. “Sounds like our choices are limited. What do we do from here. Could CompComm get into a chip and pull the buoy locations?”
“As a matter of fact, Dave,” Castor answered, “we’ve done just that.”
“Nifty!” Tacomah said. “Wha’dja git?”
“Among other things,” Castor replied, “a plan that should see us much farther into Malachite’s space. I sensed that the tech was, in fact, giving us entirely accurate information while assuming that we would have him install the chip, which would allow him the opportunity to get rid of us quite effectively. Since we never intended to give him that opportunity in the first place, we used his information as immediately as he gave it to us to access the information on the chips. We now have the locations of a number of buoy link sites. Probably not all of them, but a significant number, nonetheless.”
“Which brings us to this point. We’re sending out a number of operations to collect these buoys. While our Transports are going to be pulling double duty, most of you are going to be flying into buoy link sites and destroying the buoy mine fields.
“So, we’re basically talking Mine Racer missions, here.” Corran Jr. stated, recalling the ComTac mission he’d run so many times.
“We believe so. Although Greedo doesn’t really have much to say since the Sapphire returned, he has told us that most of the project’s mine fields that he’s seen have been highly accurate, but run of the mill, laser, ion, and missile mines.”
“You still trust him?” Taan asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Castor answered tiredly. “I do. Y’all don’t know him the way I do, and for no where near as long. Yes, he’s obsessed with Malachite, and is overbearing attitude is hard to get used to, but the General is still the tactical genius that he’s always been. His loyalties are firmly in place, even though his methods are sometimes angry and extreme.”
“Angry and extreme!” Zsinj exclaimed. “That’s putting a little sugar on the snake.”
“As that may be, Zsinj.” Castor explained. “But I’ve been working on that particular aspect of him for a very long time. I believe that time is on my side, where Greedo is concerned. I’m younger than he is, and sooner or later, I’ll have worn enough of that cold exterior away that he’ll show that he does care. Eventually.”
“In any event,” Castor continued, “that’s where we’re at right now. Your starfighters are prepped, such as we have left, and your assignments are on your datapads. You should be ready to head out on your separate missions in about fifteen minutes. Nest high, my Greys.”
------------------------------
On his way back to the bridge, Castor felt more than saw the two figures fall into step behind him. He turned and, using the one jedi mind trick that he was very good at, phased into the wall. The wookiee growl that immediately ensued, assured him of his followers identities, without even having to look. It also told him that the wookiee knew what he was doing and could still see him. Wyeth stood dumfounded searching the wall where Castor had disappeared. Moriah growled again and pointed directly at Castor. Wyeth’s eyes searched Castor’s immediate area, but couldn’t see him. Knowing he’d failed in avoiding the two females, he uncloaked himself.
“Ladies,” Castor began. “Welcome to Grey Squadron’s new mothership, currently named the Black Widow. I’d have greeted you sooner, but there were things that needed to be done. I also apologize for cloaking myself, but we’re not entirely sure this ship has been completely cleared of traps and possible assassins.”
Wyeth looked dismayed, and her eyes began to build up fluids. Castor could feel her longing for the past he didn’t remember. He could feel her loneliness, her joy at finding him again, and her pain at finding him still lost. Moriah mirrored Wyeth’s feelings, but only supported her companion from behind with a big furry hand on human female’s shoulder. He walked to within one meter of the pair.
“This thing that you’ve just seen me do is only one of the few things I learned in the tunnels of Kessel, and since. I’m not a Jedi, nor am I a Lord of the Sith. My training was somewhere in between. I do not fear the dark side, and I an not entirely light. But I am fairly Force capable, although my strength and access to it does not range as either the light or dark side normally will. My talents lie mainly in self protection.”
A tear rolled down the fur beside Moriah’s nose.
“This is what I became. This is what I have been since I lost my memories.” Castor looked at the floor for a second, preparing himself for his next statement. “What and who I use to be died in those tunnels, and what I am now was born.” His chest tightened around his heart as he felt Moriah’s pain mirrored in Wyeth. “You must understand that I can not take advantage of your feelings for who I was. I can’t. I won’t. It hurts me more to say these things to you and cause you pain than I can feel that pain in you.” Moriah aborted a step past Wyeth toward Castor, and he looked at the wookiee sadly. “I see you both as quite attractive and desirable. But I have nothing more than that right now. I can’t steal from my past, or more importantly from you, to gain something that I’ve wanted and needed for what seems close to an eternity.”
Wyeth sighed deeply. “I think, Admiral,” she said pointedly, “that you are far more light than dark. And your efforts at being noble are quite successful, but...”
“They only strengthen your resolve and cause you more pain.” Castor finished her sentence for her, and Moriah whined a short growl.
“You used to finish Moriah’s sentences for her, too.” Wyeth blinked back a tear, while Castor could only look at her sadly.
“Wyeth,” Castor hesitated. “I can’t...”
“Oh! There you are, Admiral.” The droid’s prissy voice called as Katie hobbled up to the trio. Castor turned to look at his aide, but he didn’t reprimand it for the interruption. He felt they all just needed time to get things settled concerning his relationship with his two forgotten wives. Time he didn’t have, and couldn’t take. Not yet, anyway. “You are needed on the bridge, sir.”
“Thank you, Katie. I’ll be right there.” Castor said quietly. “Duty calls.” He said sadly to the females, wookiee and human. “This discussion has not ended; it is only delayed. We only need to find a ground zero to work from. Think on it.” His wives nodded, brokenhearted, and Castor turned to run past his aide droid toward the nearest lift tube to the bridge.
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