Mission Database

Begin Log:  T5B5M3 - Rock Or Roll!

Jila Cosa:  additional p.o.v.

...approximately one standard day ago...

Okay, so I was burning the candle on both ends, but I couldn’t think of any other way.  I had witnessed too many of the Greys get seriously injured or die since the beginning of this tour to let it happen one more time without getting to know the Greys much better.  Lately between flights and the TacTeam meetings that I had been pretty much ordered to attend I had been spending all of my down time in Tess’s Place.  
After my talk with Tacomah in MedOps it was easy enough to start a conversation with him and then float into the other conversations going on.  And I finally got the chance to get that hug from Kanashaak.  <chuckle>  Lessa once told me he’s gentle as a kitten, and though I’m still not sure what a kitten is, a hug from Kanashaak is a wonderful thing.  
Anyway. I stood at the door to Tess’s Place for a moment collecting myself.  It still made me nervous to put myself in this situation but I was getting better.  I drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, straightened my shoulders, and walked through the door, my boot heels clicking loudly on the deck plates.  Tacomah (whom I never called Droidboy or P2 like some of the others did) waved to me and pulled out a chair at his table.  He had told me many things about his people since we had started talking in MedOps, and I hoped that he’d have another story for me this time.  When I got to the table I realized that Dave was there also, and though I started getting nervous I sat down anyway.
“Whadya wanna drink, Jila?”  Tacomah asked as he looked toward the bar, but pointed at me.
“I’ll have...” was all I got to say as Tess was already at my elbow with my usual soda.  I looked up into his face and saw him wink.  “Thanks Tess”  I smiled and chuckled.
After Dave had told me a bit about his world he patted my shoulder and excused himself, saying he’d be back shortly.  I took this opportunity to ask Tacomah what had happened, why he had gone so suddenly quite, just before the last launch.
“Weren’t nuthin’”  He said quietly and looked down at the table top.  If he’d been standing I think he would have scuffed the toe of one of his boots on the floor.  
“It’s okay Tacomah.”  I tilted my head to try and catch his eyes past his braids.  “Personal stuff.  I understand.”
“Yah.  Personal stuff.”  Tacomah took a deep breath and released it with a shudder.
“Would it help to talk about it?”  I didn’t want to push, but Gods he looked like he needed somebody to talk to.  Tacomah looked straight into my eyes, possibly trying to decide how serious I really was.  By the emotions that passed across his face I had the feeling that even though he was friends with all of Grey he had never spoken of his true feelings to any of them.
“Yer sure?”  He finally said.
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”  I smiled and nodded.
“C’mon.”  He got out of his seat and I followed him out of Tess’s Place.  “In here.”  Tacomah stopped about half way down the hall and unlatched a crawl space door.  I went in first and he relatched the door behind us.  “Second left then right.”
I crawled on my hands and knees for about six meters to where the crawl space became large enough for two people to walk or work side by side.  We walked a bit faster now that Tacomah could lead and he knew where he was going.  When we finally took the right hand turn we walked into a room not unlike the hydroponics bay on the Aragorn.  It was beautiful, and a shock.  I mean, this was an Imperial ship.  But I guess even they needed fresh air and stuff.
“I found it my first off time.”  Tacomah told me nonchalantly.  He walked over and sat on a upturned root that kind of resembled a bench by a large tree.
“It’s wonderful.”  I looked up to the top of the tree and down to the shrub plants around it.  I sighed.  The odd places you find beauty.  I sat down on the opposite end of the root from Tacomah and waited.  ‘Personal stuff’ wasn’t something you could just let flow out of your mouth.  
After a little chatting about inconsequential things, Tacomah asked.  “Can I tell ya somethin’ private?”  The young man that he was peeked out from behind the hard fighter pilot he was becoming.  
“I won’t tell anybody anything.  You can trust me.”  
“Sometimes I get scared.”  He looked down at his knees, his hair hung down around his face, as if to hide from his truthfulness.  “I get scared I’m gonna go out an’ not come back onna these times.  I already messed up a docking and had to eject once.”
I closed my eyes tight as I tried to hide the tears that suddenly came.  My tears would do him no good at all.  I knew he didn’t want sympathy.  What he wanted was understanding, and I could understand a fear of dying.  Then he told me about the conversations he’d had with the other Greys.  The way they really felt about Greedo, the plan for the upcoming mission, and how they felt about their chances for survival.  
At that very moment I vowed to myself that no matter what I would make sure that Every Grey came back from Every mission... ALIVE.

***************************

Rensal “Bigfoot” Darklighter: Flight 1.3, alternate p.o.v.

“Ow! Dave, what was that for?” I asked when I got hit hard from behind.
Dave looked up. He had a look of serious contemplation as he noticed he had just ran into me.
“My fault, Biggie. I was just worrying about the mission.”
I picked up my helmet off the bench. “We’re all worried. All we can do is fly high, as Castor says. You know?”
Dave nodded as he stepped into his flight suit. “We’ll be watching your back, my friend.”
Biggie’s serious look betrayed his own anxiety. “We’ll all watch each other’s backs.”
Dave picked up his own helmet. He and Bigfoot walked out into the hangar. “May the force be with you, Biggie,” Dave said as he clapped the other man on the shoulder.
“And with you, Dave.” The two split and headed for their respective ships.
It’s time to finish what started when Greedo came along. The Star Hammer is in our grasp, and it’s time to capture Malachite. And destroy the super weapon. As I entered the hangar I noticed I hadn’t looked to see my assignment. I quickly checked and found out it was a T/A I was assigned too. I watched as Dave and Vender both got Avengers as well. Taan and Tacomah got stuck with the Guns, and the rest of Grey was already in their ships, ready to launch. I dropped in, and closed the hatch, quickly powering up. As my comm unit came online I heard Dave and Taan report in. “Control. Eight has two lit, and everything operating normally.”
Copy Eight. Greys you’re clear for launch. Shoot strait. And May the Force be with us!
We launched and noticed just an asteroid, a platform, and the Gezzoop.
What will they throw at us guys? I heard across my comm. And as soon as that came across there were enemy fighters launching. I brought one up, and my jaw dropped.
Uh, Ven, you’re the Imperial expert here. Is that what I think it is? Said Taan.
I’d call you a liar if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, Taan. I thought the missile boats were all wiped out!
“I thought they were as well. I have only faced them once before, and that was right after Endor!” I said.
Apparently Malachite made sure to grab a copy of the schematics before the collapse of the Empire. If those things have SLAM, we’re in serious trouble.
It’s not SLAM I’m worried about. Do you have any idea of the payload those things can carry?
“Yes, I do. And it ain’t a pretty sight for us!” I replied.
We’ve lost Tacomah! He ejected in time. Said Taan.
“Enough playing! Let’s take out this place!”
Go after the liner, Flight Five! We’ll cover! Said Vender.
The platform is disabled. Taan said, after a lot of battling and taking down the missile boats trying to destroy our other two Guns.
Greys. This is Control. Land for refueling and reloading as you can.
I couldn’t. And a short time later, I heard. Greys. This is control. Disable the Star Hammer. We have shields and weapons powering up on the asteroid.
Flight One, cover us as we pull the teeth of this monster!
Consider it done, Taan! Said Ven as we came about to take on three missile boats that just launched.
How many more does he have in there? Asked Dave.
“Can’t have too many more. Those are expensive to build and train pilots on.” I said.
Grey, cut the chatter.
“Copy control.”
After five minutes more the guns finally got that asteroid disabled, and we cleared the skies.

*************************

Adam “Vender” Fene: Flight 1.1, alternate p.o.v.

“Control, this is One Lead. Current resistance has been eliminated.” Vender’s grin was almost audible. “The platform’s been tamed, too. Not bad for a day’s work.” Victory was now within reach, he quietly thought to himself. Indeed, he was invincible, nothing could stop him, or Grey. He knew that wasn’t really true, though, but he liked being cocky.
The grin was still on his face even as Castor ordered them into the Widow to resupply arms and fuel, as they could. Suddenly though, as if realizing his own immortality vanishing, he remembered Taan was in serious trouble.
“How are ye doin’ Taan? Make it back to the Widow okay?”
Yeah, Ven, I should make it back well enough.
Vender nodded to himself, shrugging off his god like powers forever. “I doubt we’ve seen the last of those Missile Boats, you know. These are expensive pieces of property here. Star Hammer, that liner, a platform. Even the boats and Defenders. They won’t let them just lay
around.”
He could almost see Taan grimace in his mind, at having to come right back out and go through the exact same hell they’d just gone through. Yeah.
There was a long silent pause. For the rest of the short trip back to the Widow’s docking bay, most of the Grey’s didn’t say much except to get clearance for dock.  Those that weren’t still busy.

--------

“Make sure that panel is fastened down tight. I don’t want to lose any laser energy when I’m out there, it took me almost twice as long to kill stuff out there, and that’s time I can’t afford to waste.” Vender nodded to a technician and a mechanic as they got to work. They weren’t arguing with him this time, like in the past. Everyone was serious, and down to business.
Just the way he liked it.
Everyone doing their part to ensure success.
Victory. The Rebel cause.
The Rebel cause, he thought. He hadn’t always exactly been a rebel. He came from Corellia. It was almost mind numbing to now think about how long he’d been in this gig. Brought up in Imperial schooling, imperial technology, having contact with little or no alien species. Not that it mattered, he got along with anyone as long as they didn’t push his buttons.
Rebels. Why was he suddenly thinking about this?
“Come on Vender.” He told himself.
Malachite. What was he trying to prove?
His comlink beeped, and it was an audio recording of Castor telling them to get back to their fighters and launch immediately. And that the Star Hammer, was powering up. Vender felt a shiver go through him, mixed in with almost pure rage as the hydrospanner in his hand started to bend from his grip.
He threw it to the floor and looked at it, wondering how in the Force he’d just bent a hydrospanner’s bar. More weird things were happening to him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that.
No time. “No time.” Vender repeated to himself. Perhaps he wasn’t the one rebelling, maybe it was the people that were filled with so much greed they’d warp and twist people’s minds to accomplish their goals, and some cases, destroying entire planets, and now even entire systems.
Were those the Rebels he was angry at?
By society they weren’t considered rebels.
At least not five years ago.
“Terrorist scum.” Vender narrowed his eyes as he jogged up to his Avenger and climbed in. The hatch closed and yelled, “I COULD BE HOME RIGHT NOW IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU! WITH A WIFE! A FAMILY! A NORMAL HOBBY! MAYBE EVEN A GOOD LIFE! SICK! TWISTED! SITH PIGS!”
Vender didn’t even wait for the clamp to release him, as his Avenger’s engines powered up, the clamp jerked his Avenger back until it twisted and bent, releasing his fighter as it shot through the hangar to take lead of Flight One.
“All right, give those Gunboats cover Flight One. I will assure you, per Imperial tactic, there will be more Missile Boats, and more Defenders. Ignore the Trips if you can, and take out those Missile Boats. ASAP!”
The flight of Avengers shot through space, around the massive Star Hammer as Gunboats began shooting up the passenger liner and a platform. The hair was still standing on end beneath his flight suit. Remembering what he’d done to the hydrospanner, he loosened his grip on the flight stick.
Senses alert, suddenly he looked to his scanners to see two Missile Boats come in. “Ok, One Flight! You have your instructions! Work in pairs, two per boat! Help anyone else you can if you’re the odd man.”
Vender jammed his stick to starboard, rolling, as his wingman followed perfectly behind. “Stack it, and lets slip in behind. He’s not very far away, juke it so it can’t get a lock on us!” His wingman began to juke a bit, occasionally breaking out of formation to throw a missile lock.
The Missile Boat was within range for a few laser shots, but the speed at which they were going made it tricky to land any shots on each other. Vender cut his speed to loop up and onto the tail of the Missile Boat and fire a quick quad shot that made the boat jink from the damage.
The boat hesitated slightly as it tried to break free, but by that time Vender’s wingman had turned fully and fired off a shot that cut across its wing. “Nice shot Two!”
Without warning, the boat shot off a missile. “The hell?” Vender followed the missile’s course, as it headed straight towards one of the Grey Gunboats. Exploding, the Gunboat whipped shrapnel in all directions. Vender didn’t wait to even see if the pilot had ejected. He was tired of it all.
Sweat dripped from his head underneath his helmet, veins began to show in his eyes as his senses stretched, vision clearing. His ears began to ring as every sound in the cockpit could now be heard with ease, even the bolts that held together the solar wing panels from outside could be felt through his flight stick by the vibration.
And then he found himself in front of a demolished Missile Boat, firing straight through the fast moving debris. There was nothing left but shrapnel, even the pilot did not escape the slaughter of an Avenger’s quick single firing canons as they continually fired, quicker than half
a second between shots.
He realized everything was going in slow motion. He couldn’t move in the instances that seemed to drag on.  His reflexes were shot from the stunned disbelief that it was happening so slowly. He at least knew what to do next though, as the time speeded up and he swung his Avenger around to port. A furball of Trips and other Avengers had already began as a Platform exploded behind him.
Some Grey pilots cheered, but he ignored them, not able to say anything, his concentration so deep. Dave was most certainly in that furball. He was a good pilot, and could probably take out those Trips in his sleep.
Move back, and keep protecting the Gunboats. He told himself. “Ok, Two. Let’s get back.” Vender shook his head as his voice stung. It sounded almost horse with pain, like he had been coughing or choking for hours.
More Missile Boats flew in from the Star Hammer. And more fell victim to his guns. His guns. Why was he getting almost all of these missile boat kills? Wasn’t there anyone else around to shoot them down, or was he just too quick? Or just in the right place at the right time?
Castor came over the comm. The Gezzoop and Forge have been destroyed!
He shook his head, mind becoming hazy, focused out of reality. Was he being driven insane?
There was a bright flash as his wingman exploded.
Perhaps.
After a time, Castor came over the comm again. The Star Hammer has been disabled!
Vender checked his scanners and saw that a Dreadnaught had come in. He wasn’t sure from where. It seemed to him Castor was probably paranoid about it, and didn’t want to risk losing more ships. Dreadnaughts did, after all, pack a wicked punch. If Castor didn’t call them in soon to evaluate the situation further, he would probably be a fool. Then again, he may have expected it to come, and would give him in flight instructions on what to do. So far, he hadn’t heard anything.
His throat didn’t hurt anymore. He seemed oddly more calm. The Missile Boats stopped coming as frequently, and few Trips were left around to fight. Vender snorted. “If those were their reinforcements..”
No, certainly not. With all the expensive and high tech equipment going into all of this, they were sure to have a much better defense for the Star Hammer than this.

************************

End log: T5B5M3

Battle 5, Additional Story: Requiem
  By Debbie White (LessaKylaraRS@aol.com), Laurel Miller (JilaCosa@vtlink.net), and R.C.Miller (Castor@RebelSquadrons.org).
  A Grey Squadron, of the Rebel Squadrons, Additional Bonus Story
  after add-on Mission 3, Battle 5, Tour 5
  before add-on Mission 4, Battle 5, Tour 5
  for the Star Wars TIE Fighter Combat Simulator game.

Castor didn’t like it.  Not at all.
But Greedo was right this time.  The more people involved with the Star Hammer project, particularly this close to the weapon itself, that remained alive, the higher the possibility that the project could be revived.  The base had to be destroyed, including all the equipment and personnel.  The Gezzoop too, since they seemed to have special access to the center.  Possibly they were Malachite’s own transport.  Or maybe just an intelligence gathering vehicle.
It left a very bad taste in Castor’s mouth.  But he had to accept that it was the best thing to do.  
Best.  Not the right thing.  Just the best option they had.
The personnel on the outside rings of the project might have been kept in the dark as to the project’s purpose for security reasons.  Maybe they had.  And some might still be alive.  But the people this close to the center had to know what the weapon and it’s capabilities were.  No security was that tight, and people just weren’t that stupid.  They had to know.
Both the platform and the passenger liner were disabled.  Defenseless.  It would be murder.  No less than murder.  But that was what the Star Hammer was all about.  Murder.  The death of innocent and largely unsuspecting worlds.  Countless billions of people.  Those would all die if the Star Hammer was activated and left to these people.
What were the murders of thousands of murderers?
What was the justifiable price for the safety of the New Republic?
Where did one draw the line?
How many deaths were acceptable?
If Castor ordered it, the price could be his soul.
If Castor didn’t order it, the price could be far worse.
Greedo and Flame stood waiting.  Far more patient then they had been at any time up to this point in the conflict.  Greedo knew that even Castor couldn’t argue this point.  And if Malachite just happened to be on board either structure, then he would die as well.  As it should be.
Castor was beginning to think that he wouldn’t be able to make good on his promise to bring Malachite to justice.  On the other hand, was death for Malachite such an unacceptable option?
Castor scowled, and turn to look at Jack and Teke.
Jack spit on the deck of the bridge, as if firing venom.  “It’s Grey.”  He didn’t like it either.  So much was said in that simple statement.  “At least Malachite might try to run.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  Grey could catch him.  Castor knew that Jack would have choked if he’d tried to say Greedo’s right.  That’s why they were here, supposedly, because Grey was the only team that had that chance.  That’s why Castor reformed them, and why the Dawn’s Hope and all the rest had died.
“No choices.”  Teke answered simply.  Again, volumes in few words.
“Give the order.”  Greedo was not about to beg or cajole.  He knew he’d won this one.  And he wasn’t even being obnoxious about it.  “Extreme prejudice.”

---------

Lessa’s throat tightened as she watched her monitor and another one of the Greys’ starfighter lights blinked out.  She was sweating and getting more frantic by the second.  Time after time she’d had to sit and wait until the powers that be decided that it was safe for her to take the Brier out.  Greys, brave pilots who had depended on her and sacrificed everything in doing so, had died while waiting on that decision.  A long list of dead pilots.  And getting longer with each passing second.
One by one their starfighters blinked out.  No, no, no!  The word echoed louder and louder in her mind.  No more!  Not this group.  Not these pilots.  Some of these were the younger ones.  The ones who felt like they could take on the world.  The ones Lessa's heart went out to.  They were the same age as her younger twin brothers several years ago.  Her brothers who had thought the same thing, and had also died in battle.  Lessa had watched from the monitor at her training school and had felt helpless to do anything then.
And she was feeling the same way now.
“They’re dying out there.” She scowled at the monitor, the angles of her face making the dark look even darker.
“You don’t know that.” Her copilot responded.
“I know it.” She retorted with a calm she was far from feeling.  Well, she wasn't going to sit there and do nothing.  It seemed like everyone was taking the deaths of these young people way too lightly.
Not her.
Not ever her.
Another Grey starfighter’s blip disappeared.  “DAMMIT!” The little commando yelled and slammed her fists against the flight yoke. She started flicking switches and the engines whine began it’s climb up the scale.  “Control, this is Brier!  Request permission to retrieve EVAs.”
A short pause.  Brier. Request denied. Stand by.
“Not acceptable, Control.” She gritted out through clenched teeth, her knuckles showed white through her skin, she was gripping the yoke so hard.  How could Jila say that!  Had she lost her mind?  What happened to the care she’s always shown for the pilots?
No choices, Brier. Jila replied, letting her know the decision was neither of theirs to make.
Lessa bit her lip till it bled.  No choices!?  By God their WERE choices!    Someone is letting these people die out here!

---------

The discussion in TacOps ran on.
“Don’t these fighters have guns?!”  The calamari was beginning to lose his unflappable calm. “Analysis!  How many missiles can they carry?”
“Working!” one of the techs answered.  “We’ve got a scan coming in.”  The tech paused for a moment.  “Four launchers.  Each magazine capable of carrying... twenty advanced missiles.”
“Eighty advanced missiles each?!”
“How many are there?”
“How many have there been?”
“Too many!”
“This was unexpected.”
“There’s too many!”
“We can’t win against them!”
“YES WE CAN!” Jila finally yelled, all pretense of self control gone.  The TacTeam looked at the woman as if she’d just turned into a poisonous reptile and bit them.  “IT’S GREY OUT THERE! FIND A WAY AND THEY’LL DO IT!” Jila collapsed into her chair.
Kartil put his hand on her shoulder.  “Ease down.” He said, and shook her shoulder to get her attention. “We’ll make it. They just need time.”
“They’re taking too much, and Greys are dying.” Jila gave him a withering look that she very much would have rather turned on the Tac Team.
Jila. Get me clearance!

---------

This shouldn't be happening!  Lessa had spat the words out one after the other.  She knew Jila wanted to help.  She knew she was under orders herself.  But, by the powers that be, I will not stand by and do nothing!

---------

“Brier, stand by!” And Lessa too.  Jila felt like her head was going to explode.
The TacTeam was still discussing the new missile-carriers.
“Brier requests permission...”
“Denied!”
“But...”
JILA!  I NEED THAT CLEARANCE NOW!
“Cosa!”
“The EVAs...”
“Denied!”
“BUT...”
“COSA!”
“THEY’RE DYING!!”
They all saw another Grey blip disappear from inside the holotank. The small blinking white PLD spot continued on a straight line from the point the ship had ceased.
CONTROL, THIS IS BRIER!  I’M LAUNCHING!  I WILL FIRE ON THE WIDOW MYSELF IF YOU TURN THE TRACTOR ON ME.
“STOP THAT SHIP!” The verpine yelled through his translator.
“WHY!” Screamed Jila in return as she launched herself from her chair.

---------

She sensed, more than heard or saw, her co-pilot turning to slap down the engine power levers as soon as he heard Lessa’s threat.  His blaster was in his right hand, coming around to cover the pilot about to commit mutiny.  But he wasn’t fast enough.  Not by half.  The little commando’s right hand lifted quickly and her thumb struck him square in center of the nerve ganglion under his left shoulder.  The muscles in his arm clenched, but it’s owner didn’t even have time to react before Lessa had brought her own blaster up, left handed.  Her thumb spun the dial to low as she shot, which caught as the weapon fired across the space just millimeters from her own right arm.  The bolt struck the copilot just below the ganglion she’d hit, and he collapsed against his harness straps.  She checked the setting.  To high for that range.  Dammit! She slammed the button that would bring the medic.
An instant later the door burst open.  The medic had arrived at a full run.  “What are you doing?!”
“Disobeying orders, and maybe saving some lives this time!”
“Lessa.” The medic said as the ship lifted.  “You don’t have clearance. Land this ship.  Don’t make me have to shoot you.” The safety made a loud click as the medic readied his weapon.
“You don’t have time to shoot me, land the ship, and save his live at the same time.” She countered.  “I didn’t have time to check the stun setting and it was too high.  He’s not breathing.”
“Lessa. You can’t do this.”
“Right now my job is saving lives.  The same as yours.” The little commando twisted in her harness to look the medic full in the face.  “You do yours, and let me do mine!” She nearly spat. “Shoot, or don’t.  Make up your mind.  I don’t have time!” Lessa returned her attention to getting the Brier free of the Star Destroyer.  “And neither do they!”

----------

The Brier screamed by, clearing the docking bay while personnel jumped to stabilize the atmosphere containment shields.  Most of the two way conversation had been heard by all the people that needed to know statuses, and who’s effectiveness in their jobs depended on real time knowledge.  No one reached for the tractor controls, and no one considered interfering with the Brier.  Not that her threat of firing on the Widow was taken for more than it was. Of the crew that had been listening to the exchange, they all agreed with her. To the last sentient being. Including Castor, who was at this very moment rushing to TacOps with every bit of speed he could muster, sacrificing many of the seams in his uniform jacket.
The scene that greeted him, as he bolted through the door was surprising, to say the least. Jila, red faced and veins bulging in her throat and forehead, was straining at being held back by the techs around her. Her face was wet with tears, and she had been giving her decided opinion to the TacTeam.  Apparently with a fair amount of force and conviction. The verpine had assumed a position which displayed confusion and dismay; something not normally seen in a verpine who still remained in contact with the rest of it's local species. The calamari was bent to assist the verpine, which left only the human of the TacTeam looking at into the holotank.
With two yanks, Castor ripped the rest of his jacket away, throwing it to the side.  "STATUS!" He yelled into the confusion. Everyone looked at him, but no one spoke. Waiting no more than a second and a half, Castor yelled again. "STATIONS!" The calamari straightened, beginning to return to the tactank.
"Jila, Ease Down." Kartil said from Jila's side. "Ease down, dammit."
Jila pulled once more at the arms that held her as Castor came to mere inches away from her face, becoming the center of her focus and attention. He said calmly and quietly, but firmly to her. "Jila. I need you. And I need you right now. Here." Raising his voice and turning away from the distraught woman he continued. "Let's get in place, and we'll get Brier and the Greys back. And we'll get this done." He paused for only a very short moment.
Jila stared back at Castor. She could feel the left side of her upper lip twitch as it drew itself into a snarl. Her eyes blazed with fury and her breathing was ragged as the tears continued to stream down her face.
"MOVE!" Everyone instantly returned to their battle stations, except the verpine, who remained on the floor. Jila jumped when Castor shouted, then drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The hands holding her arms eased their grip, trying to be sure that she wouldn't physically attack somebody when they let her go.
"I'll be all right." Jila wiped her face with her sleeve. "Brier. Grey. Status!" She called into her mic, and started relaying the reports as they came.

---------

Using instinct more than any trigonometric calculations that Tacomah might have, Lessa slammed the Brier headlong into one of the passing modified missile carrying gunboats that carried so many missiles.  She shifted the Assault Transport’s laser and ion energy to its shields, and evened them out.  The jolt had caused a number of her on board team to lose their footing, as most of them had undone their restraints to find out what was going on. She watched the missile boat spin off out of control with its wing crumpled, its guidance thrusters all firing at once, at angles far from where they should have been aligned. Someone yelped from the passenger compartment shortly following a hollow thud.
“They’ll keep.” She said to no one, and heard another person come in to sit in the copilot’s couch that had been recently freed of its unconscious occupant. “Your dead if you touch anything.” She told the commando.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Lessa.” It was the team leader. “I’m on your side.”
“Then make yourself useful.” She said quickly.
Two snaps, and her new copilot had himself strapped in.  “Whatcha got?”
Concentrating on everything happening outside, more than what was on the control panel in front of her, she reported the conditions, and told him what she needed.  One of the Grey Avengers swooped by, barely missing what might have been a fatal crash, but bleeding off a little more of the Brier’s shield energy.  A quick glance told Lessa that her new copilot was on it already.  Another commando sat down at the station behind her.
“First PLD. Two by seven. Fifteen clicks.” He reported, and Lessa corrected her course, breathing a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to have to do this alone.

---------

They collected eight greys in all.  Each time they picked one up, Lessa's heart sank lower.  All but three were already dead.  The three that were alive were just barely that.   Shay, Tacomah and Corran.
As they’d picked up Tacomah, Lessa had barely glanced around from her maneuvering the ship, but seeing how limp he looked, she caught her throat in a sob.  No!  God no!  Not him!  He's just a baby!
“Don’t spare the juice!” The medic called from the back.
The tiny commando pilot's eyes were filled with tears and her jaw was set.  They were in the middle of the battle from hell, and the fastest way back was straight down the monster's throat.  But, she had to get these three to safety, and there were far fewer Greys to run interference for her.  "Damn them!"  her mind screamed as thought of Tacomah's limp body entered her mind, and Shay’s and Corran’s.  No choices. She slammed the throttle forward and the Assault Transport shot ahead like a bullet.

----------

“MISSILE LOCK!” her copilot yelled.
“SHIELDS FULL BACK!”
“ON IT!”
“Just keep us together for fifteen seconds more!”
“INCOMING!!”
Lessa was pounded against her restraints.  That was bigger than an advanced missile!
The copilot drained the lasers and ions to the shields and shifted them full back again.
Not enough power! No choices!
She dumped all the recharge circuits to the engines.
“BRACE!!” The copilot shouted just a fraction of a second before the Brier took another pounding.  Sparks flew from a dozen places around her, and she caught the smell of living tissue and hair burning.  Tears streaming down her tiny determined face, she only half felt the burns on her face, and not the skin peeling away from her leg at all.
The last torpedo hit the Brier unannounced and the explosion threw the transport through the atmosphere shield and into the docking area.  The emergency tractor grabbed the transport and only barely buffered its collision with the decking.  Smaller explosions kicked the broken Assault Transport as dozen of beings ran up with their emergency equipment, desperately trying to extinguish the fires that roared along its hull.
Lessa, her red hair burned away in several places, her face blackened with ash and darkened more with her own blood, her flightsuit burned and torn, almost fell from her seat as she yanked her constraints off, and headed for the three surviving pilots.  Were they alive?  Had they made it?  
They must!  Dammit! There had to be someone left to make it all worth it!  
Looking down, she stifled a scream of panic and agony in her throat and yanked the body close to her up into her arms.  As nimble as Lessa was, she was far too tiny to carry the unconscious form for any length of time, but no one would be able to stop or help her.  The rest of the able commandoes were busy helping the other two Greys and their own fallen teammates as Lessa staggered out through one of the rents in the hull.
The little commando struggled under her burden and looked up to see the huge form of Kanashaak, her friend and once again hero, approaching at a full run.  Before relief could shine in her eyes, the concussion from the last and largest explosion which came from the ion batteries threw the elfin girl forward, sliding sprawled over the body of her charge. Blackness enveloped her before she could complete the sob at how close she’d come to saving his life.

*****************************

Begin Log: T5B5M3a   Requiem

Rensal Bigfoot Darklighter: Flight 1.3, alternate p.o.v.

“Control!  We need to know the capabilities of these ships!”  I said.
Tac is working on that Eight!
“We’ve already lost four pilots! We need to know now!” I screamed.
The numbers we are looking at don’t seem right. We’re double checking them.
Eight, this is two.  I need some cover!  I’ve picked up a pair!
“On it Two.  You’ll be clear in a minute!”  I slipped into position behind the Missile Boat, and started shooting.  I tried hard to keep the urgent voice of the Brier out of my mind, as she kept trying to launch to save fellow Greys, but the TacTeam wouldn’t let her.  I took out the second boat as Control’s comm stopped transmitting and the Brier shot out of the Widow.  The Brier came out very hot, and Dave barely missed a collision with it as the Brier rammed and damaged a Missile Boat.
“Two, you’re clear! And the Brier has launched. Let’s cover her!”
On it Eight! I think she made the Missile Boats mad when she rammed one!
“I agree! They’re swarming that way.”
Five, this is Two.  We need some more help over here.  They’re going after the Brier.
I copy Two. I am on the way!
We couldn’t stay with any one target long, just long enough to knock them off a run at the recovery ship. As the Brier was on it’s way back, a couple boats were able to make runs and get missiles off.  We thought the Brier would make it back, but just as it was entering the bay another missile hit it, and all we could do was hope for the crew and the pilots it had on board to make it out alive.
That was a cheep shot.
“You can say that again, Two.  Let’s get them.”
This is Five. I agree with you guys. let’s hurt them badly.
Cut the chatter, Grey.

*******************************

Jila Cosa: additional p.o.v.

Regs be damned!  I thought as I threw off my comm set and ran.  This was Lessa, Tacomah, and all the rest of the Greys, and I wasn’t going to stand around TacOps wondering what was going on.  Just as I had gotten through the TacOps door and into the hall, a hand grabbed my arm and nearly yanked me off my feet.  I whirled to see What Idiot had stopped me from going.
It was Kartil.
“Let me go, Kartil.”  I was so angry and so very frustrated.  Every second he held me there was one more second that I wasn’t getting the answers I wanted.
“No.”  For a moment I noticed fear in his eyes.  Why?
“I’ve got to go Kartil.”  I pleaded, the tears continuing to stream down my face.
“They’re in MedOps Jila.”  Kartil said quietly.  “You won’t be able to see them now and you know it.  It’ll just torque you up even more to be down there waiting.”  My whole body went limp at this, but because Kartil still held onto my arm I only sat down, I didn’t fall.  “If I let go of your arm will you promise not to try to take off for MedOps?”  He went down on one knee, placed his hand under my chin, and turned my head so that my eyes would meet his.  “And would you promise me that you will not move while I go back into TacOps for a moment?”  A moment passed as he waited for an answer that didn’t come.  “Jila?”  I wanted to be in MedOps so badly.  The not knowing was tearing me up.  “Jila, please?”
“I promise.”  Kartil looked at me with raised eyebrows.  I shuddered hard.  The effects of the adrenaline rush that had started with the first Grey to be hit had started to lessen “To both.”  I attempted to wipe the tears from my face again but found that my sleeves were too wet to make a difference.  
“I’ll be right back.”  Kartil stepped back into TacOps, and in a short time came back out.  He sat directly in front of me, both of us cross legged with our knees touching, and he quietly cleared his throat.  I noticed that the fear I had seen early wasn’t there anymore.  “What do you remember of the past twenty minutes?”
“What are you talking about?  Why wouldn’t I remember it?  I was there.”  This mission had been the same as many of the others; the Imp ships getting blasted, our ships getting blasted, Imp pilots ejecting, Greys ejecting.  The only thing different was the way I felt about those who died this time. And that Lessa had gone out without orders to rescue those that floated helplessly in the battle zone.  I was with her on that decision though I couldn’t say that to anyone.
“Tell me what you remember Jila,” Kartil placed his hands on my legs just below my knees, and looked into my eyes, “and then I’ll tell you why I’m asking.”
I let out a long, deep sigh.  He wasn’t about to let me go so I figured I might just as well get this over with.  “I remember Lessa asking for permission to go out and rescue the Greys who had ejected.  I remember the TacTeam denying permission.  I remember Tacomah ejecting and Lessa going out without permission.  I remember the Admiral being in my face and somebody holding my arms, and then hearing the report that the Brier had crashed in the docking bay.”
“Do you remember anything between Lessa going out and the Admiral being in your face?”  I thought about it for a moment and couldn’t come up with anything, but when Kartil mentioned it I came to realize that some time most have passed between the two incidents because the verpine was sitting on the floor gaping at me when the Admiral had backed up.  I knew right then that sitting on the floor gaping at someone was Not a verpine trait.
“Uh... Nnnooo.” I answered.
“The Admiral thought as much.”  Kartil shook his head, and stayed silent for a moment.  My patience had begun to wear thin.  If he wasn’t going to say something the least he could do was let me get down to MedOps.  But just as I opened my mouth to tell him so...
“Let me say first that this is all the truth whether you believe it or not.  The verpine was not sitting on the deck because it wanted to.  When Tacomah ejected, and Lessa went out on her own, an eerie sound echoed off the walls of TacOps.  It sounded like the scream of a hunting howlrunner.  Everybody turned to see where the shriek had come from, and it was you.  Your head was thrown back, your mouth wide open, and your fists were clenched so hard that if you look at your palms right now you’ll probably see that your fingernails cut into your skin.”  
I didn’t dare look.  I didn’t want to know that he was right.
“Then you turned on the TacTeam.  I won’t repeat exactly what you said, I don’t think that matters now, but the gist of it was that you were madder than a Wampa over their failed battle plans.  The verpine stepped toward you to calm you down and suddenly it was flying through the air.  Nobody is sure whether you actually hit the verpine, or what happened.  All we know is that when the verpine landed on the floor you said you were going to pound some sense into the TacTeam.  That’s when we grabbed you and when the Admiral came into the room.”
I’m not sure when my mouth dropped open, but it obviously had because as Kartil finished his explanation he reached over and pushed up on my chin.  I sat there, blankly staring, trying to remember.  There was nothing.  I refocused on Kartil and tried to speak, my mouth opening and closing a couple of times, but I couldn’t.  I had no idea what to say.  
“I’m not sure what is going to happen now Jila, but...”  Kartil spoke quietly.  “... the Admiral wants to see you as soon as he’s done with the TacTeam and has checked in with Major Ototh.
At that I started to really shiver, both from the adrenaline rush and the thought of going to the Admiral for what had happened.  I brought me legs up, wrapped my arms tightly around them, and just tried to get my muscles to relax as the tremors shook me from head to toe.
“Come on Jila.”  Kartil took my hands and pulled me to my feet.  “Let’s get you down to MedOps now.”  It was a slow walk because I couldn’t stop shaking, but we finally made it.

******************************

End log: T5B5M3a

Battle 5, Mission 4: You Can Run...
  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 5, Tour 5
  for the Star Wars TIE Fighter Combat Simulator game.

From: Med Command, Major Elyen Ototh
To: Grey Leader, Admiral Castor Efrata-Landis

Re: Casualty Report

Report:
Grey’s recovered by Brier.
Triage personnel report following D.O.A.
Juho Taskinen. Cause: ruptured flightsuit, debris puncture.
Zsinj.  Cause: ruptured flightsuit, debris puncture.
Petr Margul. Cause: failed starfighter ejection sequence.
Spokes. Cause: Internal bleeding, apparent contact with starfighter.
Ace Farlander. Cause: Life support unit failure.
Shay.  Cause: Brier crash and systems failure.
Brier Medical Officer Mindon Dubberly.  Cause: Last off Brier, aiding Shay.

My regrets, Admiral.

Corran Horn Jr. was recovered alive from Brier wreckage, as were Lessa Kylara and Tacomah Somers.  All three remain in critical condition.

Ototh, Major
Medical Officer, RSD Black Widow
  
--------

This is a continuation of the last mission.  There is no extended briefing this time other than to bring everyone up to the same point in the mission.
You’re still in the gunboat, and you have half a normal load of mag-pulse missiles left.  Your shields are down, but still functional.
The Star Hammer asteroid station has been disabled, but the incoming Dreadnaught’s purpose has yet to be determined.

***********