Mission 3.18 - Final Step

COMBAT PILOT TEAMS GREY EIGHT AND CADET THREE REPORT TO THE OFFICE OF ADMIRAL EFRATA-LANDIS. TEAMS GREY EIGHT AND CADET THREE - REPORT TO GREY LEADER'S OFFICE.

::The call came over the ship wide com, and the pilots arrived in differing stages of combat dress. As always, the Grey pilot was in complete battle gear - the Cadets never could figure out whether Grey actually lived in a constant state of readiness, or if they just had some sort of psychic link to Castor. Or if their clothes just transformed themselves into flight suits and battle regalia whenever "the call" sounded. It certainly seemed to be the latter::

::The pilots reached Admiral Castor's office within about thirty seconds of each other - Grey was there first with his hand poised above the "open" button. Nothing was said between the three, but the Grey simply stood statuesquely. After a few seconds the Cadets gave a simultaneous nod. The door whisked open, and in they went - Grey in the lead::

::Castor looked up from the data pads on his desk, glanced at the two chairs and then the three pilots, and sighed - he had seemed a bit distracted lately. It didn't affect the quality of his work, but one had to wonder::

I've got to get more chairs. Sit down, those of you that will.

::The Cadets assumed that Grey would take one of the two chairs, and that would leave one remaining - so, by mutual understanding, neither moved to sit. What DID surprise them, however, was that Grey didn't move for a chair either. Considering Grey Squadron's familiarity, informal attitude, and tendency toward irreverence directed at each other and their commander, this behavior startled them more than did Castor's apparent "absentmindedness"::

::Castor, seeming to not notice the behavioral "aberration", continued without pause::

The last mission went well - most of the Repair and Supply Convoy was destroyed, but, as you know, the two Repair Freighters did reach their jump point. Indications are that this is a critical transfer point, with the Star Hammer Project's location at the other end.

It is our understanding that the ship at the transfer point is a Frigate, and it's engines have developed a malfunction, along with it's shields. We're not sure why, but it seems a bit "extraordinary" that this should happen at a juncture as critical as this. We expect high level resistence, and are aware of the possibility that this could be a trap.

I don't mind telling you that I'm pretty concerned about this one - keep your eyes open for

anything odd.

Because we find this so strange, we don't want to send you out there quite alone this time. We also want you to be in the most versatile craft we've got. So, you're in an X-Wing this time. You Cadets are going to fly support in B-Wings.

Your jobs are to see that the Imperial Frigate is captured. Grey, you're going to have about ten minutes to take out the Repair Freighters, and clear the area of any defenses. After the ten minute mark, the Cadets will hyper in and attempt to disable the Frigate.

Hopefully, if all goes well, the crew will not have enough time to repair the Frigate's engines, and we will be able to capture it intact. From there we should be able to get the co-ordinates of the Star Hammer Project.

Any questions?

No, sir! ::the Cadets chimed in, but still the Grey pilot did not speak::

Good luck, men! Stations.

::the three pilots turned to leave, but before the Grey could make it all the way through the door, Castor's voice was heard. The Grey pilot stopped, but he didn't turn::

Dude... It's not the end of the world. High Command has an overview that the rest of us can't always see, and we all have to take our orders from somewhere higher up.

::at this the Grey pilot turned quickly, and the Cadets could seen a pained expression on his face::

I know, bossman, but they can't order me to like it.

::then he snapped a quick salute to Castor, turned and headed toward the launching bay, leaving the two Cadets standing with very puzzled looks on their faces::

::inside his office, Castor put his head on his desk for a second or two, moving the datapads to the side. Then he sat back up and stared through the surface of his office door::

Understood... and agreed, my friend...