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| - It is the middle of the morning on a Thursday in Welona. In the droid maintenance center of the Military Compound on Ord Mantell, operations are in full swing. Numerous astromechs and various construction and recycling droids wait to be cleaned and repaired. Striding into the midst of this hubbub of activity strides one Lieutenant Kesander Beysarus. Casting about his blue eyes, the Corellian appears to be searching for someone. Or perhaps two someones. "L'ygr! Corbet! Front and Center!" Dirty and sweating from long hours of cleaning out deactivated droids, Raxis looks up. In coverals with heavy gloves and a smudge of oil on his cheek, he wastes little time and makes a run to his commanding office. Snapping a salute, he replies "Sir!" "Hmmm, well either Wildman is up to his nose in degreasing agent or he didn't hear me. Doesn't matter. I'll leave a word for him when he extracts himself from the droid hot oil bath operations," says Kesander, still looking about for Officer Corbet. Turning his gaze back to Raxis, Sandman says, "You get a bit of reprieve from all this fun. The rest of the Squadron is out patrolling on the far coreward side of the system. We've been picking up indications of pirate activity on the rimward side. You and I are going to check it out," states the Corellian in a fairly business-like fashion. "But don't get too excited. Probably won't be much there. And the droids will be waiting when we get back," observes the X-Wing driver. "You've got 20 minutes to get cleaned up and into your flight gear. Meet me on the flight line as soon as you're ready." Not even hesitating, Raxis makes a mad dash for the locker room. Rummaging through preparation, he manages to fit in a two minute shower to wash the grime. Within twelve minutes, he sees himself quickly out the door and sprinting back to Kesander's position in full flight gear. Standing on the ladder next to the cockpit of Ghost 7, Kesander grins slightly to see Raxis' mad dash out to where the only two ships in Ghost Squadron remaining on the ground sit, ground crews milling about them, preparing them for flight. "Let's get a move on, Raptor. Citadel will be sending us vector data and telemetry on possible hostile contacts." And with this, the Corellian puts on his helmet and climbs into the cockpit of his bird, lowering the canopy and firing up the engines. Wasting no time, Vee-Ten twitters at Raxis as he shoves his helmet on and the cockpit closes. Pre-flight checks already completed, Raxis takes off trailing his wingleader. Up through the atmosphere they fly until well outside of Ord Mantell, they are soon afar from the planet in the void of space. "Ghost 7 to Ghost 3, check your mission data displays," transmits Kesander on the squadron tactical frequency. "Citadel reports transient contacts on our current vector heading. My guess is its outlaws and privateers popping in to scan local frieghter traffic and then popping out again," suggests the Corellian. "Keep your eyes peeled. We come across anything that doesn't have a legitimate transponder code and we've got clearance to fire on them. Sandman, over." "Copy Ghost7, watching the scanners" Raxis replies into the radio as he begins loading up and adjusting his radar viewpoint, falling in a low rear trailing formation with his wingleader. Eyes peeled, he scans outside the cockpit for a moment for any visuals, and then goes back to his instruments. On the edge of the Ord Mantell system, two old Z-95 Headhunters drop out of hyperspace. Aboard Outlaw One, a grizzled-looking Rodian peruses his scanners. On an encrypted channel, the pirate transmits to his partner, a rather scarred up human with eyes of different colors. "Garhash, look at that," Transmits Boordiz, sending a set of coordinates and an intercept vector. "That's the worst looking YT-1300 I've seen in ages. Why don't we have a bit of fun?" Aboard Outlaw Two, the scar-faced man grins evily, showing broken teeth. "Why not?" In a split second, the two pirate craft turn, hurtling at high sub-light towards their prey, the frieghter, Teseract. Aboard the old ship, its pilot says, "Oh, Kark. We can't ever have a peaceful moment. Warm up the laser canons!!" He yells to his co-pilot." "Ghost Seven we have two bogeys up making an inbound for freighter craft" Raxis chimes over the comm, adjusting his radar to show a designation of the targets to his wingleader. "Z-95's, two of them." "Yeah, I see 'em," returns Sandman, his blue eyes watching the contacts develop on his scopes. "Sturdy old crates, aren't they?" Sends Kesander to his wingman. "But their sensors clearly are obsolete. I don't think they see us, or at least they're not reacting as they should," he observes, beginning to sound *really* interested. "Here's the plan, Raptor. Plot an eliptical intercept course that flanks the sun-ward side of their approach vector on that frieghter. I'll find a similar path around the rim-ward flank. We meet in the middle and hit them from opposite directions. Just don't shoot me. Sound good?" "They call me Raptor, sir, sounds good to me." Raxis replies, tapping a button on his consol. With a whirr of hydraulics pulling apart his wings, he locks his S-foils into attack position and pulls backwards on his flight yoke. Barreling upwards, he navigates his X-wing starfighter to be masked by the system's local star. Ready to pounce like a bird of prey, he angles himself into position. Aboard Teseract, the co-pilot, A Twilek named Mihirin sits in a laser turret looking fairly panicked at the on-comming threat. "Cap'n! They're comming!" Sends Mihirin on the ship's intercom. "So shut yer yap and start shootin!!" Sends the frieghter captain back. And the Twilek complies, spattering red laser cannon fire in the direction of the two on-comming marauders. Aboard Outlaw One, Boordiz cackles maniacally at the "pray and spray" approach to defense used by the crew of the old YT-1300. "So they want to play rough, do they? Let's give 'em a taste of their own medicine," he rasps, squeezing his weapons trigger and sending searing bolts of energy at the fleeing Teseract. Aboard Outlaw Two, Garhash hoots in bestial glee as he follows suit with his partner, opening fire on the old frieghter as the two Z-95s close the distance. Aboard Ghost 7, Kesander has peeled away from Ghost 3, his Astromech Smokey having swiftly plotted a suitably stealthy eliptical approach to the two pirate craft. However, as the action draws within visual range, the Corellian begins to curse in a colorful fashion. "Ghost 3, this is Ghost 7. Those two ships have opened fire. Let's not let that freighter crew get too badly hurt. We are weapons free. I say again, we are weapons free. Tally Ho!" Shifting his attention to the matter at hand, the Lieutenant locks his s-foils and accelerates to attack speed, angling to line up Outlaw Two. "Copy, Ghost 7" Raxis replies, typical for a wingmate as he primes his weapons and locks target onto Outlaw One. Dipping out of his cover, he barrels into a corkscrew roll and pulls up, Outlaw One and the engaged YT-1300 in his full view. Banking his X-wing to cut into the Z-95 headhunter in range, he lets out a slow breath and opens fire. "Karking Hell!!" Bellows the captain of the Teseract as the bolts from the two Headhunters slam into his sheilds, stressing them badly. "Mihirim you fetid nerf! Shoot 'em, dammit, Shoot 'em!!" He yells over the ship's intercom. "I'm *trying* to shoot 'em," returns the Twilek with a few choice curses of his own. The Teseract's laser cannon continue to wildly spray red blaster fire in the general direction of Outlaw One and Outlaw Two. "Ghost 3, this is Ghost 7, watch that defensive fire from the Frieghter, we don't wanna get vaped by the people we're trying to help," transmits Kesander, even as he gets a lock on Outlaw Two. It is possible that the blood thirsty fool named Garhash that's piloting that ship actually managed to get a look at the X-Wing that fires on him, but not before the Corellian thumbs his weapons selector to quad fire and lets loose a salvo of deadly hell-fire red bolts. Inside Outlaw One, Boordiz muses to himself as what he deems to be an inexperienced crew fights to get a bead on his ship. Hanging low, dipping between the firing lanes as the YT-1300 bursts to life in an attempt to evade the two pirates, Boordiz unleashes a stream of blasterfire from his Z-95's two wing-tipped weapons. As the two pirates continue the chase, nearby space is littered with stray blasterfire as the two Ghosts interfere. Meanwhile, well aware of his foes, Raxis adjusts his angle to be above the plane of Boordiz' Outlaw One. Slightly behind, Raxis takes aim at the Z-95's bulbous engine casing. The sound of his cockpit erupt with blasterfire as his X-wing pummels the suprised space pirate. "Wha!-" Boordiz exclaims, frantically reaching for the inertial compensator and yoke to peel away. "-Buck out! Buck O---" He hisses over his comm franctically with the sour accent of Rodese before the line ends in static. A spark of blue-white flame hisses from his ship as it explodes in space, followed by decompression...leaving only dust behind. Aboard Outlaw Two, the scar-faced man Garhash manages to hear a few syllables of his partner's final words before the fire from Ghost 7 slams into his ship. "WHERE'D YOU KRIFFING BASTARDS COME FROM?!?!?! Screams the pirate as his shields fail under the hail of laser fire, several large jagged pieces of his Z-95 being blow off in the process. Desperately, the brigand tries to maintain control of his mortally wounded ship as it flails off into a flat spin. Whether out of spite or spasms of panic, the man's hand remains clamped down on his weapon's trigger, sending much of what power remains for his fighter to his one working laser cannon, perhaps hoping to take the Teseract with him into oblivion. Still trailing behind the Teseract, Raxis watches as Ghost 7's blaster fire pummels the remaining Headhunter and flies past his field of view. Sensing danger, Raxis pulls on his yoke into a hard-banking turn to put Outlaw two in his path. "Ghost 3, acquiring Z95-B" Raxis calls over the comm, letting his wingleader know he's engaging. Moments later, he presses down on the trigger Aboard Teseract, the ship's captain and co-pilot become aware that they're the fortunate recipients of unexpected aid at roughly the same moment. "Holy Stones!" Bellows Aram Feshda'kar, the master of the frieghter. "We got X-Wings! They're our boys" he crows with a fairly ghastly cackle that follows, as though delighted that his assailants have seemingly met their untimely demise. "I See them! I see them!" Replies Mihirin "Ha!!!!" He yells, also noting the desruction of one Headhunter and the severe damaging of the second. Spinning out of control still, Garhash's white knuckes keep the trigger held down as slowly his capacitor's energy flow to his one remaining blaster begins to die. Pounding furiously at his console to restore energy to his engines, a rugged chorus of obscenities flow from his gravelly voice. With a solid punch to the console, the left thruster ignites and stabilizes and the spin ends. Still sliding away from the Teseract, he rights the Z-95 Headhunter to fly backwards through space in time to see Raxis L'ygr's approaching X-Wing starfighter. With a vengeful roar as the X-Wing's blasters begin to fire, Outlaw Two slowly tries to angle itself to get a bead on its opponent. Lowering his brows as he roars, Garharsh returns fire. "He's restabilized" Raxis calls out, depressing his trigger as he barrel rolls to avoid the incoming fire from the Z-95 headhunter. Narrowing his eyes, he angles Ghost 3 to put Garharsh in his sights and his S-foils' weaponry follows suit. With each successful hit, the Z-95 cracks, lists, and ruptures in another zero-G explosion that is quickly extinguished by the vaccuum of space. "Ghost 3 to Ghost 7," Raxis calls over the comm. "Two Bandits Down, no other contacts" Looking over his shoulder as Ghost 7 begins a broad, arcing turn, Kesander sends on the tactical channel, "Nice shooting raptor. I'm sure the crew of that freighter will be glad to buy you a beer sometime. Let's escort them in to Ord Mantell in case those two scumbags have any friends that are still in the area." "I copy, Ghost 7, shall I deliver the vector to the Teseract?" Raxis replies, pulling the yoke of his fight control backwards to loop in a 180 degree turn to return to a defensive position around the freighter. "That'd be great, Raptor," transmits Sandman as he guides Ghost 7 into a position on the opposite flank of the YT-1300 from Ghost 3. Switching comm channels, Kesander transmits once again. "Citadel this is Ghost 7. Splash two bandits, courtesy Ghost 3. We have freighter Teseract in our care at the moment and will escort her in to New Alderaan. Need support standing by, she may have taken some damage in the engagement. Standing by for approach vector data. We'll relay to Teseract. Sandman, out." A few moments later, the StarOps Operational channel comes to life with a reply. "Ghost 7, Ghost 3, this is Citadel. Sending you an open approach vector to New Alderaan. Nice work you guys. We'll have some help standing by for Teseract. Citadel, out." Flipping his comm channel to hail the Teseract, Raxis tilts his head to the side for a moment until he feels a satisfying pop, relieving the stress. A green beep over his headset lets him know the comm channel has been accepted. "Freighter Teseract this is New Alderaan Sector Patrol." He begins, sliding his X-wing to fly into a textbook escort pattern alongside the YT-1300. "We have a clear path for you to landing bay 132 and safe escort to harbor, over." "New Alderaan Sector Patrol, this is Captain Feshda'kar. Damn boys, are we glad to see you two. Appreciate the company on the way in," says the old spacer with a gravely, but otherwise friendly voice. "Thanks for whackin' those two murderin' thieves fer us. My co-pilot's a good stick, but he's crap as a gunner. Appreciate you StarOps guys lookin' out fer us. Teseract, out." With that, in silence, Raxis smiles to himself as he boosts ahead and flies in front of the escort into the atmosphere of Ord Mantell. Through the cover of clouds, the three ships rush through the sky as broken daylight peers through the fog. Finally bursting through, the sky is filled with an impressive display of light, framing Ord Mantell's major spaceport glistening in the distance. Lanes cleared, escort craft can already be seen hovering into place as the caravan approaches. Tipping a wing in a pilot's 'farewell', Ghost 3 and Ghost 7 rocket high above the starport and turn around in time to see the YT-1300 freighter carefully lowering itself into its protected bay. A day's work done... Ghost Squadron returns home.
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