Date: 44:2:32 Time: 0145 Hours

Agent Durvan Yar stole a furtive glance up and down the corridor before he turned to the crew quarter door in front of him. He took out his custom-built lockpick and inserted it into the locking mechanism. He stole another glance as the device did its work, interfacing with the lock, running through thousands of code combinations faster than any human could. Durvan trusted in his forged crew credentials and stolen uniform, but there had been close calls. Still, the crew of the lumpy Mon Calamari cruiser had not yet detected anything out of the ordinary, as the small lockpick flashed a green light. Durvan pushed the door open with, as he raised a fist silently in triumph.

He entered the room, making sure to shut the door behind him. He went straight for the desk near the small window, pushing the chair out of the way to stand in front of the computer workstation. A quick glance at the cabin indicated that this was the CO's quarters, as Durvan noted the mementos and general extravagance that set apart these cabins from the other officer's quarters that he had infiltrated over the past months. He activated the workstation and accessed the door controls, scrambling the security combination to prevent any unwanted interruptions. He then proceeded to delve into the workstation's stored information. As with the previous times he had infiltrated and stolen information, his mind rewound to his secret mission briefing, 3 months ago....

"You are ordered to infiltrate the rebel's Patriot Battle Fleet command ship, the Windstorm, and acquire secret information on their activities. Crew complements, repair schedules and expected completion dates for ships, fighter complements, whatever you can find out. In particular, the White Guard wish us to keep them informed on ship movements and the PBF's location. They must hold some kind of grudge against them if they want that kind of information; rest assured, we have increased our expected pay in ships and credits accordingly. You'll find the equipment that you will need in your quarters; you are to depart immediately."

"Remember the credo of our glorious organisation. You have been trained and honed by your previous missions to the highest standards of our glorious organisation. If you fail, don't expect to return alive, either by the Rebel's hands or ours."

In his long experience as a bounty hunter-cum-spy, that threat, repeated before all missions given to operatives, had long since lost its lingering threat to Durvan, as he continued working. He stopped at some interesting data files. He took out a portable datacard and inserted it into the worksation as he quickly scanned the screen. The Rebels were planning a counterstrike, according to the CO's personal log. There were even some musing on formations, fleet composition and a possible time of attack. He downloaded it anyway; Durvan had long since learnt the importance of trusting in hearsay as a spy.

He heard some faint noises as he worked, but there was only the faint hum of the ship's engines idling, and the occasional chime over the com. system. Even so, he patted the small blaster strapped to his side to reassure himself.

"Surrender is betrayal." He repeated his personal mantra as he continued.

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Time: 0200 Hours

Lieutenent General Josh Hawkins looked up groggily from the table in the Windstorm's bar and grill. After all that happened, it had seemed as though he had survived purely on drink more than any real kind of sustenance over the past weeks. Tonight had been a particularly bad night clearly, as he surveyed the empty B&G. Or what he could see, given his affected state and the low level lighting that indicating night aboard the ship. Josh shook his head and was greeted with another sensation; the warnings of the service droid, indicating that the B&G was closing for the night. Although soft, they seemed to pound on his head like so many turbolaser impacts. With a irritable grunt at the droid, Josh picked himself up and made for the exit.

Making his way back to his quarters proved even more difficult, as the corridors light level made them seem more like long-forgotten cave tunnels, instead of Mon Calamari-styled metal corridors. Josh was forced to squint at door labels as he continued. Finally, he reached his quarters. He gave a heavy sigh as he punched in the door code.

No response.

He rekeyed the code with a slightly puzzled expression. Same response.

Josh's alcohol-addled seemed to recover in an instance. He activated the voice-recognition module on the door.

"Reset code, authorisation Hawkins-57764."

This time, the door light winked green in readiness. He drew his blaster as the door slid slowly open....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time: 0212 Hours

Durvan had heard the footsteps moments before Josh arrived at the door. He swiftly shut down the workstation, before looking around for an escape route. His eyes fell upon the ventilation shaft located on the wall opposite the desk. "I need a diversion." he thought as he vaulted the desk. He then noticed the refrigeration unit.

As the door light changed from red to green, he kicked open the unit and withdrew a bottle of Corellian Ale. Smashing the bottle on the floor in front of the door, Durvan then drew his blaster. As the door slid open, he fired on the puddle, igniting the liquid in a small but intense fire. With a smile, he kicked in the shaft cover and dived in.

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Josh braced himself. He raised his blaster one-handed, but was forced instead to shield his eyes as a fire suddenly flashed into life on the floor. The sudden heat and light caused him to backpedal into the corridor, accompanied by an intense stab of pain in his temple as he stumbled into the wall opposite. Much to his relief, the automatic fire extinguisher nozzles in the walls quickly quelled the fire. Striding into his quarters, he quickly looked around. The workstation was off, but he saw the dented ventilation cover, and the disturbed cooler unit.

Any last traces of drunkenness faded in an instant. Without hesitation, he strode to the wall-mounted com unit.

"This is Lieutenent General Hawkins. Ship status is now Red Alert, repeat, Red Alert. All crew members and troops, you are ordered to conduct a deck-by-deck, cabin-by-cabin search of the ship. All senior staff, report to the bridge. Squadron Leaders and Pilots, report at once to your assembly areas for possible patrol runs. We may have a spy onboard. If you see or hear anything suspicious, report at once to your commanding officer. That is all."

As he finished speaking, he punched the wall in annoyance. "Not now...."

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Durvan had reached a small cargo storage room by the time Josh's annoucement came over the com system. He listened with a grim expression on his face. It would not be long before he was discovered. He looked around to make sure the room was empty before consulting his small datapad. According to ship's schematics, the main docking bay was nearby; another ventilation shaft connected the two compartments. Glancing around, he found the right vent, but as he made a move towards it, the storage doors opened.

"Halt! You are under arrest!"

"Sithspit!" Durvan could not control his outburst as he took cover, barely avoiding a sudden barrage of pale blue stun bolts as the Rebel soldiers opened fire. From his position, he returned fire.

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Josh charged onto the bridge, to find it in a state of confusion. Officers and crew were running about, taking status reports and directing crewmembers elsewhere in their search of the ship. Josh strode smoothly over to the communications station as his SO, Michael "MacMan" McEwen entered the bridge, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"What's the story, Josh? I haven't seen you in this state for a while" he bantered as he quickly jogged over to Josh's side.

Josh didn't mince his words. "We've got a possible spy onboard. Might explain how the White Guard were able to attack us with such precision over the past months. We need to reel him in and question him on his connections with the WG."

Macman nodded. "He might try to escape."

"I know. I've called the ship's squadrons and pilots to readiness for a possible capture and recovery mission. Unfortunately that's only the squadrons on this ship, the only other squadron that's available on short notice is Gold Squadron on the McGrath."

Macman took this in as Josh turned his attention on the com officer. "Lieutenent, signal the other ships of the fleet. Advise them that there may be a spy aboard the Windstorm, and that there also maybe spies aboard other PBF ships. Ships captains will need to conduct intensive onboard searches to ensure that no enemy agents are aboard. Make sure that they send prompt reports as they conduct their search."

"Yes sir." At once, the com officer began to encode a message for the other ship's in the fleet.

With that done, Josh then turned his attention to the plot table. At the moment, it showed a holographic schematic of the ship, with search teams clearly marked. "How's the search going, Josh?" Macman asked as they glanced at the table.

"Nothing yet, but we haven't got many teams out yet, some of the crew must be still getting ready..." He was interrupted as the com. system came to life.

"This is search team Delta. We've found a suspicious individual in Cargo Storage 3C. He's resisting arrest. Request assistance." There was the sound of blasters firing in the background as the trooper spoke hurriedly. Then, a burst of static.

"I'm heading down there." Macman retrieved a blaster from the weapons locker before dashing out. Josh turned back to the com officer. "Order all search teams to converge on the hanger decks. Protect all vital subsystems and the main hanger bay. Send another team to help out Delta; this spy is clearly more slippery than we thought."

"Aye, sir".

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Durvan took another shot at the group of soldiers before ducking for cover. He had slowly worked his way towards the vent, but between the enemy's advance and the diminishing cover near the vent, he was pinned. He risked a glance at the door. To his dismay, more troopers were arriving, as well as a high-ranking officer. As they filed in, there was a pause in the stun bolt barrage.

"Give yourself up! You will be treated fairly!" The officer called out.

"Surrender is betrayal!" Durvan shouted back, before aiming a series of shots at the troopers again, punching one man back hard against the wall. He slammed and fell heavily to the floor, critically wounded. Durvan took advantage of the attack to move to the barrels nearest the vent. He made it just in time as the troopers returned fire.

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Macman took cover as the spy's barrage took out one of the troopers. They returned fire as he and another soldier helped carry the wounded trooper out into the corridor. He slapped the emergency medical alarm as he returned back to the cargo bay.

"Status?" He asked Delta team's commander as the two sides exchanged shots.

"Not good. He's one determined son of a Hutt. We've been slowly moving in on him, but he's an excellent shot; as we get closer, he seems to get more determined."

"He's got no where to go; why fight?" Macman mused aloud as he combined his fire with the troop leader. At least he was keeping the spy pinned down.

Suddenly, the spy stood up. The troopers took aim, but held their fire as the troop leader raised a hand. Macman could see that he was unarmed as the spy raised his hands.

"Men, take him into custody."

It was only then, as three troopers moved to arrest Durvan, that MacMan noticed something concealed in his right hand. He ducked and shielded his head.

"Take cover! Grenade!!"

At once everyone else ducked as Durvan lobbed the small grenade underarm into the middle of the room. There was a brilliant flash and an explosion of suffocating smoke. Macman was forced to crawl out on his hands and knees to escape the pall of smoke. The members of Delta team followed him out as the atmospheric controls struggled to overcome the smoke and clear the room.

When at last the room was clear, Macman glanced around. The spy was gone. With a grim expression, he raised his comlink. "This is SO McEwen. We lost him, Josh. All hanger deck hands, stay tight; he won't get far."

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Durvan took advantage of the grenade and launched himself at the vent, kicking it in with a hard thrust of his legs. He quickly dived into the opening as the smoke rapidly spread out; the atmospheric controls must not have kicked in yet, he thought, as he coughed hard in the vent. Wasting no time he crawled quickly away and rounded a corner, preventing any shots in the back. Taking a quick glance at his schematic, it showed that he was not far from the main hanger bay. He kept going, rounding corners and down the correct junctions.

Finally, he arrived at the hanger bay. He carefully opened the vent and quickly hid behind some crates, just below and to the side of the bay control room overlooking the cavernous space. Peering over the top of the crates, he watched the Rebels carefully. They were in a state of feverish activity; crewmembers were hooking and unhooking ship's umbilicals, refueling ships, unloading cargo and inspecting fighters. Durvan could see some important officers in flight gear giving instructions to other pilots near the fighters. Of those fighters, the X-Wings emblazoned in brilliant green particularly stood out.

He ducked down to avoid any prying eyes, then risked another glance. Those fighter craft were no good for an escape. The larger shuttlecraft and transports were not ideal either; they were guarded, probably due to the red alert status and his close-fought battle with the troopers in the cargo room, he thought grimly. Even if he jumped out and rushed a ship, he would be swamped in seconds. Durvan continued watching dispassionately, until his eyes found the large fuel storage tanks. A plan began to formulate in his mind as he alternatively watched ship's crew refuel ships, the tanks and his blaster.

Finally, he could wait no longer. Either he would be discovered, or he would attack and be captured anyway. Durvan chose the latter option.

He set his blaster for overload, then took aim at the tanks. With a determined look, he fired on the tanks. The massively overcharged shot punched a hole the size of a man's head in the tank. At once, fuel began to spill out of the hole. Without waiting, Durvan fired again, sending another powerful bolt into the tank itself. As he dropped the smoking, melting blaster, he ducked low. Just in time....

A massively powerful explosion ripped through the tank, engulfing the other two tanks, adding to the carnage. Lethal shards of metal were flung throughout the hanger like raindrops in a storm, smashing into docked craft like hail. The fire and burning fuel ignited the refueling hoses of the ships, causing several ships to ignite like small bonfires. As ship's crew rushed to put out fires, tend to the wounded and to save what ships remained, Durvan risked a glance at the devastation. He noticed with glee that a transport at the back was unattended and virtually untouched by the fires, miraculously.

As the hanger bay chaos continued, Durvan stood and dashed for the transport.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although they were too far from the hanger bay to have felt the explosion there, Josh, Macman and the bridge crew were all aware of it in other ways.

"Status!" Josh said, with an agitated expression.

The operations officer was grim-faced. "Sir, the main hanger bay has been taken out of action. The bay fuel tanks were destroyed by heat and fire. Metal debris has irrepairably damaged several ships, as well as many fighter craft. Some other craft have been destroyed by fire from refueling hoses. Suffice it to say, it doesn't look like we'll be using that hanger bay for a while."

"Can we use ANY ships there?" Josh asked.

"There are a few transport craft available, but with the loss of the refueling tanks, we won't be able to get any smaller birds up in a hurry."

"How did this happen?" Josh asked, to no one in particular. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead as he searched for options in his head.

"Can't say, sir. Internal sensors are scrambled by the fires. Either it was by accident, or...."

Macman finished the ops officer's sentence. "Delibrate. Remember, Cargo Storage 3C is near the hanger. Looks to me like the spy wanted a diversion, and he got it."

Josh sighed. "How long before the Angel Fire from Retribution Wing arrives?"

"Several hours sir. We can't get them here any faster, they've already entered hyperspace."

The effects of the night's drinking slowly resurfaced as Josh reconsidered his options. He wiped his head again in annoyance as he turned towards the communications station. There was only one thing left.

"Lieutenent, signal the McGrath. Inform Gold CO Gavin Phalon of our situation. We need Gold to patrol the area for a possible escapee craft. Or an attack force, given that the WG seem to know what we're doing before WE do. Specific details will follow."

Josh turned to Macman. "Mac, you devise the mission for Gold. They'll need to patrol the area around the Windstorm until the Angel Fire arrives. We can't let that spy escape, no matter the cost."

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Despite some delays and very late reports, we had 8 pilots report for 2.02. Here they are, in order of highest score:

1. Gavin Phalon - 52376 - Bonus Collected
2. JC Savage - 50181 - Bonus Collected
3. Gavin Starseeker - 33303 - Bonus Collected
4. Petr Tagge Margul - 29726
5. Chris Earthkeeper - 26954
6. Ace Farlander - 12008
7. Stalker - 1743
8. Spokes - -3523

Congratulations to Gavin Phalon for Top Gun in 2.02!! Remember, all socres are based on the PBF scoring system.

Now, 2.03. It's a fairly simple mission in which you must patrol the space around the PBF Command Ship, the Windstorm. Not too bad, although you may find yourself with too many things at once to do....

Mission Due Date: Midnight, EST (GMT-5), January 24th, 2007.

You can find the Gold Squadron missions here:
http://pbf.rebelsquadrons.org/missions/

Good Luck everyone!

":)

~Gavin Starseeker