| abstract
| - Age definitely has caught up to the Imperial warhorse. No matter how skillful a man may be, even if he has some help from the mystical Force, nothing can stop time. Kreldin had a good run, though. Sitting in the cockpit of his signature crimson TIE Interceptor, Black Star I, his fighter for over a decade, Kreldin ponders his current situation. He was nearly shot down several hours ago by Ghost Squadron - severe damage was done to Black Star I, and Kreldin was forced to retreat, War Shrike covering him as he made his way back to the Malevolence. Some quick repairs were made on the fighter. Nothing extensive - Kreldin couldn't spare the time. A war was going on, after all - his war. The invasion of Coruscant is his work, or so he considers it to be. The seed was planted a long time ago before he unleashed the Blitzkrieg upon the galaxy - and now, here it was. The genius of his work, in all of its beauty. Somehow, though, Kreldin just can't seem to relish in it as he thought he could. Something has been bothering him ever since he arrived at Coruscant. Maybe it's the realization that he was getting old. That he was being overtaken by the next generation. Or maybe it was the foreboding feeling that this place was to be his resting place. Well, if he's to die, then what better place than Coruscant? His seventh time fighting here - lucky seven. How ironic. Grinning, Kreldin accelerated alongside War Shrike Squadron, flying across the bow of the HIMS Predator. "Keep close to your objectives, War Shrike. Dark Sword needs to make it to the target (NRSD Monarch) and deliver its payload. Keep all enemy units away from them as long as possible." Sweating heavily beneath his flight suit, Kreldin is extremely apprehensive. The Dark Side reaches out to him, whispering horrific notions to him through the Force. Kreldin wishes he could just shut it up. Closing his eyes, he tries to push the voices out of his head, but to no avail. Flying in command of the War Shrikes once again, Krieg leads them into battle. He runs the normal checks, making sure to have everything in the green; exactly where it should be. He calls back to the admiral, "Understood sir, will keep them safe. Executing Sierra procedures." He turns to his squadron and orders up the formation to keep protection around the bombers, a slight shift from the original positions. They stay in tight to keep it looking like there were fewer craft then really were that were attacking, and keep their eyes out for the enemy fighters. Soon they would once again be in the heat of battle - such was war. When the Imperials had sent TIEs out, the NR side quickly spotted a rather familiar (and very disliked) fighter out there... the Black Star. And in the middle of a debriefing aboard the Reprisal, a very surprised Kyrin Sh'vani had a helmet thrust at her, as well as one of her spare flight suits, orders coming down. "You've met him, you can fight him," she's told, and she nods apprehensively, running for the hangar bay and leaping into the newer X-Wing that is replacing the one in the graveyard. A grimace passes over her blue-skinned face because it hasn't yet been modified to even minorly accommodate her wings. Still, she doesn't complain, getting back to work and getting launch clearance with elements of Ghost and Falcon Squadrons and even a couple of the Daggers in their shiny B-Wings. Surprise registers on her face when she's named flight leader, and she idly wonders if the pilots under her command will suffer the same fate as the ones she flew with last time around. With a sigh, she flicks the switch to open her S-foils. "Flight, this is Phoenix," she states into the comm, using her callsign for the first time, "Form up on me, delta-v formation. A-Wings are to move forward and take on the squadron in the first pass to scatter them. B-Wings will go second to pick off the scattered fighters. X-Wings will make the third pass. Good hunting, and may the Force be with you." Life was nothing if not ironic. Blake Hishiko, the - oh right, rookies don't get callsigns, had been on the Reprisal all of three hours when the scramble alert was called. The young man barely has time to put on his flight suit and touch his A-Wing (An A-Wing, isn't that some luck?) before he is launching into the chaos. To make matters worse, his first battle was against one of the most feared pilots of the Empire. "Let's get some luck in this, okay?" Blake murmurs to himself, before tapping into the communicators: "Falcon 8, going in hot." While he was still a rookie, Blake had one of the best top scores in the academy, and that thought tempered his fear. Of course, as he soon finds out, the scenarios are much different than real life. Trying to ignore the cold sweat on his skin, Blake sticks to and fro, all the while trying to locate the primary target. <<"Nothing like a bit of hot sticking to wake you up, eh boys?">> The little joke isn't really apt for the moment, but it was a bad reflex, even as Blake's starfighter zoomed ahead of the X and B wings for the first strike. Taking the helm of the Broadsword personally, Captain Caiton settles into the seat with a calm, almost serene, expression on her face. Speaking to the fighters at her command she orders additional support to fly escort for the Admiral and provide additional support. While Viper and Basilisk squadrons deploy around the Broadsword and her sister ships Pillager and Prowler, the captain maneuvers the Broadsword into a better firing position. With confident keystrokes she calls up tactical options, assessing the threat board before speaking over her shoulder to Jast, "Maybe this time we'll have a chance to try that new tactic." The StarOps tactical channel crackles a bit as a transmission comes across the net. "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Forming up in Delta V; S-Foils locked in attack position and awaiting instructions. Glad to see you out with us again, Phoenix. Sandman, out." And with this, Kesander Beysarus begins to methodically go about the business of combat. Shields are tweaked and angled forward, weapon systems checked and rechecked. "By the Maker," breathes the Corellian pilot as he beholds the full panoply of battle that fills space before him. "Time to go to work," mutters the Flight Officer to himself as he shifts his stick subtly to maintain his place in formation. Danik felt in good company, however. It provided some ease. Commander Inrokana and Captain Caiton were well respected by the Grand Admiral. Hell, the entire Broadsword and War Shrike squadron were. Danik kept his course steady, several units to port of the bomber flight. The Monarch was already under heavy fire, and this payload should be more than enough to damage it enough for the others to finish it off. If all went to plan, of course. It was just up to Kreldin, War Shrike and the Broadsword to keep the rebels off the bombers. As the Monarch grew closer and closer, a chill is sent up Kreldin's spine. A sensation in the Force alerts him to impending danger. While not immediately visible, Kreldin checks his scanners and spots the disturbance. "All units, this is Kreldin. Picking up multiple bogies approaching from vector seventeen." One squadron. Two.. three.. five... hell, nearly three wings of rebel fighters, bearing on them. Cursing, Kreldin began to peel to port. "Gonna need reinforcements. Broadsword, lay down a cover barrage. Dark Sword, disengage for the time being; we'll resume our attack run once we deal with these pests." With the voices continuing within his head, Kreldin turned to face the approaching rebels, prepared to take them all on. Flying in tight formation with his two wingmen, Krieg stays in relatively close to Kreldin, but makes no first attempt to attack. They were here to protect, and the NR needed to make the first move. He inches the power forward, the shields up at full strength. The orders to the squadron were clear, but he gives one last note. "Shrikes, maintain protective barrier and stay in communication with the bombers. Not one will be shot down, make sure of it or you're answering to more than just me." He clicks off the comm, it wasn't needed what he said, but it was the truth. "And may each of you come back to drink with me." That was more like him, after all. The fighters move in two formations, one staying in tight with the bombers to fend off any attacks while the other lead elements more forward to engage and dictate the pace of the battle and hopefully pin them up in an area where the bombers will not be. Calling the Grand Admiral he says, "Lead elements forward deploying to engage. We'll keep you safe today, Admiral." Every now and then there were times for a good chuckle, to lighten the edge and stay sharp in the battle that lies ahead. Though Krieg probably will hear about that one later, heh. After getting the new orders as well he calls back the squadron, "All fighters, forward engage. The bombers can get themselves out for now." Krieg punches the power to max and brings up targeting solutions while monitoring the grand admiral's position. Getting good locks he opens fire, to be rewarded moments later with green streaks of death lashing out from not only his craft but the rest of the squadron. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin shifts in the seat, trying to get comfortable and pinching one of her wings instead, peeling her lips back and hissing until she shifts back. She hates the fact that other ships get there before she does, but that's one of the downsides of not being able to fit into an A or B-Wing without extensive mods that the NR won't commit to for a single officer's sake. The NR doesn't design 'em for Chyleni. As the delta-v formation shifts position so that the faster ends of the wings move forward, the A-Wings reaching the advancing TIEs first, bright red fire lancing out in a fervent attempt to scatter the Imperials, much like a cue ball striking into the triangle of balls on a billiards table. Besides the 12 fighters under her command, the NR has launched hundreds of starfighters, all with their own squadron leaders. The sky over Coruscant is thick with those annoying little fighters that took down Death stars and made lives miserable on both sides. Several squadrons are detailed specifically to protect the Monarch. "They seem to be focusing on that ship," Kyrin observes. "Let us ensure they may not destroy another one of ours, shall we?" The B-Wings borrowed from Dagger Squadron reach the War Shrike formation. "We need to take out those bombers first," Kyrin remarks into the comm. "They must not be allowed to harm our capital ships. A-Wings, focus on the bombers. B and X-Wings, with me on the TIEs. I will take on the crimson ship. May the gods protect me." With a grim expression on her face, she locks her targeting computer into tracking Kreldin's ride no matter what. Falcon 8 teeters slightly in its velocity, corkscrewing every so often to avoid the flash of TIE lasers. <<"This is Falcon 8, roger assignment">> Shifting in his seat, Blake lets out a breath before taking a large swerve, veering from his arrow towards the Fighter. Nope, no direct dogfight glory just yet for the young man. With a practiced touch, the A-Wing levels, syncing up with four others before they simultaneously let out a barrage on the nearest unit of Bombers. Regardless of success, Blake breaks formation the second the barrage ends, strafing to avoid a counter assault before forming up for a second run. <<"Any clue what they have up their sleeves?">> Damnit, Hishinko, concentrate. So distracted was he on procedure and his communications, he nearly gets clipped by a TIE. Luckily for the young rookie, another A Wing catches the blast mere dozens of meters away. "Copy that, Admiral," Captain Caiton replies as she maneuvers her ship away from the shadow of the Malevolence, the Prowler and Pillager moving along side. At her mark they maneuver away separately, the Prowler taking the high axis and the Pillager coming in at a lower angle, diving down beneath the plane of the fighters approaching from vector 17. Relaying her orders to both ships captains, she cues up the comm freq long enough to hear the orders being relayed by War Shrike lead and signals next to Black Squadron XO, "Commander Wolf," she calls via comm, "deploy your squadron and form up with War Shrike." At her command, Basilisk and Viper begin sorting themselves into formation, orders received to fire when ready. "One fighter from each squadron form up on the admiral and provide honor guard," she orders while reviewing the tactical display long enough to select the first series of targets and using the forward mounted turbo laser batteries for the opening barrage. Not more than a heart beat later both escort ships open fire as well, dividing the battle field into three easy segments to attack and defend, relying on each other to take care of their own segment of the fight. "TIEs are on the menu, roger that, Phoenix. Sandman, out." transmits Kesander across the StarOps net. On the Corellian's scopes, dozens of targets now blossom. Focusing in on one particular Imperial ship, the pilot of Ghost 7, sideslips just enough to set the TIE in the sight reticule of his Heads Up Display. Instinctively, the Flight Office squeezes his weapons trigger and four laser cannons belch forth a hail of sizzling, hell-fire red laser bolts at the designated target. Things had taken a turn for the worse. Well, it's not that bad - Kreldin has been through worse. Besides, not like he's alone. As the fighting starts, Kreldin is quick to enter defensive maneuvers, rolling and sliding in between rebel starfighters. Utilizing his fighter's upgraded engines, Kreldin is able to quickly fly by even the A-wings without much trouble. While he can't take them all on directly, he can surely confuse them and break their ranks: flying dangerously in between them, attempting to cajole them into going after him (what better target than one painted red for you?). His wild spins, dives and crazy stunts should be enough to catch the attention of the rebel fighters, forcing them to break formation and go after him. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he forced a few of them to crash into each other if he scared them enough. He continues to fly dangerously close to enemy starfighters, only to break off at the last moment and turn in a completely different direction and repeat the process. In the mean time, as he catches their attention, hopefully the squadrons behind him will take his cue and mop them up as their concentrated on him. At least, that's Kreldin's plan. "Good to have you with us, Black Squadron," Danik says as he hears over the comm of their arrival. "Let's get this war over with!" Danik keeps his confident, usual appearance for his men. But inside, Kreldin is troubled. The voices haven't stopped yet. The Dark Side continues to taunt and tease him. It isn't helping him one bit, distracting him from his fight. 'Shut up....' The voices become so loud as to nearly cause Kreldin to crash into a B-wing. Turning at the last second, spraying laser cannon fire at the B-wing, Kreldin shakes his head, worrying more and more that this fight will be his last. Breaking in a starburst formation, Krieg pulls hard up while his right wingman breaks right and down, the left going left and down. The three fighters maneuver into positions with the enemy, taking on lead elements, juking, diving, spinning and rolling hard; depressing the trigger most of the time. Keeping their weapons at full power helps, to which they are rewarded with shield hits and several scores across enemy hulls. One blast comes in and grazes the shields of Krieg's craft, just as he pulls the killing blow on an A-Wing that had strayed into his fire arc. That was one less fighter to get to the bombers, Krieg thought. Every so often he checks up on the Grand Admiral's status, making sure he's doing well as they move in and out of fighter formations, breaking them up and engaging other targets. The rest of War Shrike squadron does its best to take all the enemy craft on, but it was not easy with the sheer number they were engaged with. Some rebels make it through, slipping past to engage the bombers, but there were not enough yet to move in and overwhelm the group fighting. He watches one of their own go down, the debris filling a fiery ball in front of him, the enemy was laying it on thick. However, the rebels were taking a beating too. "Shrikes, keep moving and use team tactics. Clear them as you see them." A fighter moments before had picked up Krieg's tail, but his wingmen converged rapidly on the x-wing, taking it off its course and re-thinking its strategy. As soon as the Imperials opened up with their capital ships, Reprisal and her sister ships started tagging their friendlies and then acquiring firing solutions on Broadsword, Prowler, and the other Imperial ships. The gunnery crews were scrambled and in position, orders to fire authorized and confirmed and acted upon. "We can't let this go unanswered," the officer on duty says as the order goes down to find Captain Stone. In Ghost 4, Kyrin grimaces as Danik's tactics were successful in a couple of circumstances. "Sandman, on my wing. We will take down this one ourselves. The rest of you, do not dally with the crimson one. Focus on the other TIEs. A-Wings, continue on their bombers. Falcon 8, keep your focus and you will survive. This is what we call a target-rich environment." Kyrin flicks off several rounds of red fire toward Kreldin's ship without waiting for Kesander to take her wing, trusting him to follow the order implicitly. The other fighters break and engage the TIEs of all four squadrons, with a brace of A-Wings from one of the other ships taking on Viper Squadron all on their lonesome. Guiding the Broadsword in a descending arc, the ship maneuvers below the battle plane before rolling in a smooth turn and firing on the ships from below. With the Pillager and Prowler doing the same from their vectors, they aim at any of the swarming little rebel ships that are a plague upon Coruscant, on the universe itself. Leaving the actual firing to her tactical officer and his assistant, her display shows the Reprisal finally answering the call to battle. "There we go," she breathes. As more fighters sortie out from the task squad and the nearest ships in the sector, the Broadsword and her escorts are finally clear to concentrate their fire on the Reprisal instead of the little ships. "Follow me in," she orders while bringing the Broadsword even closer. Plotting the course with extraordinary care in an instant the Broadsword and her escorts enter hyperspace, winking out of the sight of the battle. <<"Aye aye, continuing assignment.">> It was easier said than done. Somehow, even as A-Wing after A-Wing find a premature end, Blake lingers, letting loose another flurry of laser fire on the bombers. It goes well for a while, but as the young man begins to veer for another run, a red streak runs literally meters from him. His first reaction is to strafe, but his instincts kick in, and he goes against training, just in time to see another A-Wing take over the real estate he would have been in. That... would have been nasty. <<"Ghost 4. This bogey is giving the wing hell. Request permission to act as a hassle. Play the Rabbit to his dog, so the A's can finish the bombing run.">> He waits for the confirmation or rejection for a moment, before breaking off again blasting his guns at the red ship, in an attempt to catch its attention for a moment. Whatever it took to save the lives of Falcons and other pilots. Ghost 7 now firmly finds a place just to starboard and behind Ghost 4. In his cockpit, Kesander winces a bit as a couple more stray green blaster bolts flash his forward deflector screen, making some of his system status displays shift momentarily to amber before resuming their nominal green condition. "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Getting a little hot in here, Phoenix. Call the game and I'll follow. Sandman, out." The TIE Interceptor Mk II slips from its hangar bay slot, the ion engine wash reverberating throughout the hangar bay before the craft slips out into the dark void. Checking all the systems, Lanil keys his radio to the battle frequency. The Broadsword's microjump illuminates the space around him for an instant before the light fades again, leaving only the glow of Coruscant, and the red and green streaks of laser fire being exchanged ahead. Keying the mic, he addresses the War Shrikes and Danik, "Now now Mr. Inrokana, can't let you have all the fun, can I? Admiral, thought you could use some more support sir...that and I couldn't resist the chance to fight beside you again. Just like old times, aye?" The old man laughs at himself and ramps up the starfighter's speed, coming ever closer to the ensuing battle, but then at the last second, he jukes the craft straight down into a dive. "Time to thread the needle," he murmurs, and pitches back up to line up on a path to fly between the crossfire, hoping to draw some other craft with him, or at least throw them off track. As Wolf sat on Danik's tail as if he were nailed there, he observed the Admiral as he seemed to be losing it. "SIR!" he shouted just before Danik pulled away from the B-Wing.. "Are you alright, Sir!?" Wolf said, now pretty worried. Wolf had Black 2 on his back as Wolf was merely a defensive shield for Danik's six. Managing a smirk, Kreldin pulled hard on his throttle as the X-wing piloted by Kyrin comes in for the attack. Apparently the damage inflicted upon the Interceptor earlier was not as repaired as he thought - the problem with a rush job. The TIE doesn't respond, and for a few moments Kreldin is motionless is unable to maneuver. Fortunately for the warhorse the lasers overshoot him. "This is Kreldin. Controls aren't responding - seems the engineers have let me down." Kreldin keeps his calm, however. He continues to apply pressure, hoping for any response. Watching as more X-wings and A-wings fill his screen, Kreldin immediately knows he's in trouble. "Keep those bloody fighters off my back, will ya, Jast?" he responds upon the arrival of Lanil. Is this what the Dark Side was warning him about? Laser blasts impact against the shields of the Black Star I, forcing his fighter into a vicious roll that bangs Kreldin's head against the insides of his cockpit. "No, no.. I'm not alright!" Just as another laser blast impacts his shields, effectively neutralizing them, Kreldin manages to regain control. He spins his fighter around, a bit more sluggish than usual, to return fire on the rebels. "I might have to pull out of this one." His luck better not let him down now. As they notice the Broadsword start moving... Reprisal's crew goes into a seeking sort of posture. Microjumps being an Imperial tactic they're familiar with. "Don't forget the ones we can see, but keep an eye out for the ones we can't," the officer says in calming tones, trying to keep the crew's confidence up without letting it get out of hand. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin nods, although no one can see it. "Roger that, Falcon 8, good luck." Focusing her fire on Danik's fighter, she uses her innate knowledge of flight and dogfighting to help her cast her X-Wing into crazy maneuvers that barely grey her vision. "Sandman, I hope you have not yet eaten today," she says as she continues harrying that crimson fighter. Sweat runs down the side of her cheek as she keeps throwing her fighter through the daftest sorts of maneuvers to keep up that would have Incom's engineers soiling their trousers in denial. Her laser fire finds a TIE that's covering Danik's fighter, clipping one of the wings off and leaving it in her wake for Kesander to nail good and proper. "Be mindful of new arrivals," she warns as she spies Lanil's fighter on her scopes, but her computer has got the crimson ship locked on in a suitable yellow shade, and she urges the X-Wing to make it turn red so she can shoot at it. Wolf and Black 2 are still near, but her goal is the red one... which suddenly stops juking. The Chyleni presses the advantage against the sluggish TIE, holding down the trigger as she passes by Wolf and Black 2. "NOW, Sandman, while he is limping! Keep those other two off if you can!" Keeping fast and maneuvering in an area relative to a sphere, Krieg keeps shooting at and scoring hits on multiple different ships that engage in his area. His wingmen play a deadly game of luring them in as they are being chased, where Krieg then engages from an angle disadvantageous to their shields, usually scoring hull hits, and blowing out the shields on several. Soon, though, the fighters that he engages turn into fireballs, the teamwork exercises start to pay off. As one of his wingmen gets hit they switch off with the other, giving time to recharge the shields. Krieg, however, is able to capitalize on all their movements, and soon is becoming quite the fighter to engage. Though he wished he could fly with grand admiral - he was succeeding to some attempts to slow down the progress of the rebels. Getting a readout Krieg can see there were some familiar faces to be had here and there... Soon he'd have to seek them out and engage, though shooting down the craft here was becoming almost... too easy. Perhaps the attrition in this area would alert them to send more forces, or it could leave a gap in the battle - he may have to seek out more craft to engage at that point. Though in the environment they had, that was not hard. Several moves that Krieg makes take his craft on dangerous intercepts of his wingmen as he engages those that pursue them, almost interlocking solar panels as they pass. A deadly game indeed, one that many of the A and X wing pilots do not see coming until it is too late. The last call makes Krieg laugh, but he is too far engaged to really respond. Let Lanil have his fun as well... The calls from Danik come across his comm; he fights for control of the battle, getting good hits and sending the last x-wing into a fireball. "Shrikes, continue to engage, looks like we're bailing the admiral out again. Move." His own craft responds rapidly as he analyzes the situation and takes appropriate action - engage enemy craft bound for the Admiral. At Caiton's command the three ships jump to the pre-programmed destination on the far side of the planet. And it's only with pre-programming and passing the word quietly that this little maneuver is even attempted. After all, micro-jumping into the same place as another ship is considered to be 'A very bad idea (TM).' But the jump is successful and up arrival on the far side of the planet, the trio of ships begin accelerating around towards the site of the battle where the Reprisal and her reserve fleet hold position over the planet itself. Activating the tractor beams along the way, Caiton's bridge crew scrambles like mad to round up huge chunks of space debris and funnel the garbage ahead of the trio. Once within range of the reserve units she orders the debris lobbed at the fighters by reversing the polarity of the tractor beams and shoving the debris right in their defenses. Without pausing she opens fire with every weapon she can fire at once, one concussive volley after another, the Pillager and Prowler doing the same while providing cover fire for the Broadsword at the same time. A risky maneuver, yes, but these things are worth trying. Toggling his comlink, Kesander grins and transmits: "I ate a protein bar before we took off. I should be able to keep it down." A split second later, the Corellian obeys Phoenix and fires on the wounded TIE that Ghost 4 damaged, finishing it with a bright explosion. Guiding his ship through the incandescent debris, the Flight Officer takes Kyrin's warning seriously at looks about for suddenly appearing targets. Seeing two TIEs in close proximity to Kreldin's crimson ship, he banks a bit to starboard to send another heavy salvo of red bolts at Wolf's ship. Once the confirmation is received, Blake grins, licking his lips ever so slightly. "Looks like my first battle may be my last, but you're a pretty decent ship Fal-Ei. I'll try to keep you together." With that, Blake's free hand presses a number of aux controls, changing the standard pilot set up on the A-Wing. A few seconds later, the Falcon 8 is blasting forward at full thrust, almost skirting in the same manner these strange Imperials were adopting. They were fast, but maybe he could be faster. <<"Hey Ghost 4, you're pretty keen, for my first command and all.">> Blake suddenly leans to the side, letting loose with his lasers, focusing on the escorts around the red ship. It seemed damaged, and the escorts were the ones now killing his comrades. The fire focuses the one on the lead, as Blake's A-Wing flirts dangerously close before finally veering off again. <<"Hope that gives y'all breathing space.">> And hopefully they'll give chase, so the A-Wings could stop the bombers. Reaching the apex of his ascent, Lanil yanks the flightstick back hard and twists the craft over in a rollout. Seeing Ghost 7 starting to come to bear on Danik, Lanil dives in from above at about four o'clock. Squeezing the weapon triggers, he grins as his craft belches forth green fire towards Kesander's X-Wing. "Danik, check your six, X-Wing coming up fast, I'll try to get him off of you!" Kreldin isn't known as the Nightmare of Athaniss for no reason. Even though his craft is bleeding, and he's up against immeasurable odds, Kreldin still has forty years of flight experience under his belt. Through the Clone Wars and beyond, Kreldin is more than a match for any one pilot. The Force is only an added bonus. But, when it came down to nearly the entire Republic starfighter ops against him, with a faulty starfighter - well, then things got complicated. Not even legends could be expected to survive for long. Not without help. Fortunately for Kreldin, help is on the way: from War Shrike to Black Squadron and Lanil Jast, and more. Kreldin's loyal soldiers. It makes him proud. He would smile, if it weren't for his situation and the voices still taunting him, from the shadows of the Dark Side. "Clear me an escape vector. I need to rendezvous with the Malevolence." Kreldin watches as several more of his escorts vanish under enemy fire. Those young men, dying for -him-. Kreldin shakes his head, and takes another look at his status screen. He was leaking fuel now, and he had more fighters after him than he could count. He isn't going to make it back to the Malevolence. As another shot impacts against his starboard solar panel, nearly tearing it off, Kreldin flips his fighter around to face the incoming rebels. "Scratch that. I'm not running today. Plow the road!" As Lanil warns him of the fighter to his six, he charges in on it. This is Kreldin's finest hour. He'll go down in history for this. At least that's what he tells himself as he watches the rebel units get closer and closer. He opens fire on the enemy fighters as more and more fire passes by him, hitting his escorts or shooting off into the wild. As the firefight intensifies, another shot finds its mark against Black Star I. In that instant, Kreldin sees it all. The Dark Side laughs at him. All his pride, honor. All his victories, all his defeats. Everything Kreldin held dear - all wiped out in an instant. In less than a second, Kreldin's Black Star I, the red starfighter that became feared across the galaxy, erupted in a vicious explosion. The debris went soaring through space and it all ended there. Black Star I was down. Kreldin was dead. Wolf's eyes widened at the light shining through his cockpit.. He didn't know what to do.. The Admiral had just blown up in his face and he could do nothing. Wolf spun out of control.. his hand hitting his helmet, "Knock it off." he said to himself, getting control of his fighter, his mouth dropped open as he took another look at the debris scattered out from Black Star One. "This is Commander Wolf to all TIE Fighter Squadrons, I want these NR slaughtered. I want their heads floating the debris of this war zone! I WANT THEM ALL DEAD!!" Wolf screamed into the comms obviously enraged and frustrated at the recent turn of events that now has his mind shattered in disarray. His fighter twisting and turning through every whole, ships on his left and right exploding as the rest of Black Squadron formed up on his six. When Broadsword returns to the party, Reprisal's officer in charge is quick to respond. "Get the fighters outta the way," he orders briskly, also calling for raised shields to deflect the space junk, the gunners doing their best to shoot through the flotsam and jetsam at the Imperial capships in return. However, some of the junk has to be shot at before it hits Reprisal and her sister ships. Tractor beam teams work feverishly to get what they can out of the way. It's a rather nice bit of teamwork for the Reprisal's crew. Good practice. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin glances at her scopes. A B-Wing's attached itself to their flight on Wolf and Black 2 and the Admiral's protectors. Not enough. Maybe. Then... the Chyleni's shots start stitching up the crimson ship. And when the TIE explodes, she's far too close to veer off, so she does her own plowing of the road, letting her ship simply pass through the expanding gases that are the remains of Black Star I and coming out the other side, her X-Wing's vanes pulling some of the material along with her for a few seconds. "DO NOT CELEBRATE!" Kyrin snaps into the net as cheers erupt from other ships. "We still have a job to do! Sandman, are you well?" Even as she arcs her ship around to deal with her wingman's aggressor and other TIE fighters, she continues directing her troops grimly. "Falcon 8, thank you for the assist, kindly take on the bombers. Everyone, BE WARY. They will be out for blood. Do not allow yourselves to celebrate until we all get home SAFELY." And she starts firing upon Wolf's ride, taking potshots at Black 2, since they're so gosh-darned close to each other. <<"That's what I'm here for, Ghost 4. Returning to assignment">> Blake's a cocky one, but he remains grim, mostly because he's being harassed by a number of TIEs wanting blood. Luckily, his crazy maneuvers keep him alive just long enough for him to fly by a unit of X-Wings, using the fighter's counter assault to lose the majority of his tail. The rest are lost by the speed of the A-Wing as he returns to his own attack. <<"You heard the lady, girls, we got bombers to stop.">> Oh screw being a rookie. If people were celebrating, he needed them focused, even as he takes momentary point, swooping in to deliver three well placed blasts on a nearby TIE Bomber's blast ports, hopefully causing enough for an ignition, before he focuses on the next two in front of him. As long as the X-Wings did their jobs, Blake would make sure the A-Wings would deliver speedy death in small doses. There's a collective gasp from the task fore, all hands at all frequencies that are monitoring the battle receive word from one source after another of the explosion of the Admiral's fighter. And a great many of the fighters respond to the news with flat out denial and disbelief. Aboard the Broadsword, Captain Caiton is in the middle of doing what the admiral had ordered, plowing a row in the fighters on this side of the battle screen, and almost gleefully doing it before she receives the word. Waiting for it to be verified she sobers from the gleeful destruction to a grim sort of mechanical detachment. "Lets take out as many of them as we can, send them with, as escorts into the beyond," she orders calmly, her voice relayed through her command and onto the other ships in the fleet. Arming her forward guns and everything she can train on the reprisal at once, the Broadsword continues hammering away at the Reprisals shields, the Pillager and Prowler taking out one fighter after another, working like the well oiled machine that they are. Lanil seems to freeze up. Danik Kreldin, one of the few people Lanil counted among his real friends, has just been killed. An admirable death for an admirable man, yes. Cries of "Remember Kreldin" will echo for months and years to come, yet the point still remains: Danik is dead. Letting his rage fuel him, Lanil slams his throttle forward. It's not about tactics anymore, it's not even about the Rebellion and the Empire anymore. It's personal: him versus them. An errant X-Wing becomes unfortunate enough to drift into Lanil's targeting arc, and the Commissar almost instinctively draws a bead on one of the engines. Spitting green fire at it, the craft is hit and spins off for a bit before the loss of containment destroys the X-Wing. "One...." He growls, the anger is clear in Lanil's tone as he turns to engage the next Rebel foolhardy enough to provoke him. Some of Janil's fusillade of green sizzling death needles pounds Kesander's forward shields, creating some minor over-loads inside Ghost 7's cockpit. Were his comlink on, StarOps would be treated to a string of the more vile Corellian oaths that exist. However, only his R2 unit, who has a limited appreciation for profanity, is witness to the corrosive invective. Instantly executing a snap-roll to the left and then pulling back his stick and pushing his throttle forward, the Corellian soon finds himself speeding on a banking arc along the z-axis out and away from the sparkling nimbus of gas and debris that is the remains of Black Star 1. Focusing, the Flight Officer begins to quickly assess his situation. Shields still operative. Laser cannons still on line. Power levels down, but recovering. Life support status flickering between green and amber. "Blazing hell. R2, see what you can do with life support," says the blond-haired man to his astromech. "I don't wanna run out of air before I get this bird home. And we're not done with this fight yet." Toggling his comlink, the pilot of Ghost 7 transmits: "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Took a kick in the teeth back there, but I'm still in once piece. Going evasive while I see what I can do to mitigate some systems damage. Standing by for your instructions, Sandman, out." The day officer on the bridge of Reprisal grimaces as more of their forces get picked off. "Get that lady to back off, gunners," he snaps to the gunners, who get all the debris out of their way and seriously have at the Broadsword. "As long as they don't bring in any more ships, we should be able to hold out well," he says, scratching his chin as he assesses ways and means and tries not to pray for the Captain to get up here and kick their cans back to Selene. With Reprisal going full bore, angling in on Broadsword's bridge, the Monarch manages a few salvos in the direction of the Pillager and Prowler. "Good, good." "Careful there!" Kyrin warns as a couple of X-Wings from Krakana Squadron get a little bit too friendly for her tastes. "Do not let them goad you into foolish actions!" Such formal phrasing, yet it's what she does as her X-Wing locks onto another TIE and makes it so much space dust, a third TIE on her tally for the day getting winged by the first salvo, then completely vaped by the second. "Sandman, keep me apprised, return to the fight as soon as you can. Krakana 8, watch his back." And then all hell breaks loose as the Imperials start getting them out of the way. "What the...? Doomsday, are you tracking this?" Aboard the NR capship, the folks manning the scopes respond to the ships out in the thick of it. "All fighters, clear out from these coordinates!" And they give the ones where the Black Star had gone up, even though all the pyro's basically done by now. "We've got 'em! Fall back, fall back, save it for another day. Good job, people! Skipper's buying tonight, boys and girls." He hopes Stone doesn't kill him. Ah, well, not often they get to knock off an ace like Danik Kreldin. "Return to the barn, all squadrons." And with a last few potshots at Broadsword, almost like giving the other ship a final raspberry, Reprisal moves out of Broadsword's range, the Monarch able to escape the Imperials, although not entirely undamaged. The shields take one hammering blow after another, the ship itself shuddering under the impact and it's clear that it's time to micro-jump back to the Malevolence and the rest of the fleet. Captain Caiton holds position just a little bit longer, scoring a few more good rounds on the Reprisal before cueing the fleet to the jump back. She wants to stay in place, wants nothing more than to plow the Broadsword into the bridge of the Reprisal. It's clear from the expression on her face that this would be an easy maneuver, she's done it before. But this is her crew, her ship, and they will fight another day. "All units fall back to the Malevolence and stand down," she orders in a clear voice, repeating the command just in case some of her fighters have selective hearing issues. "Black Leader, I want a patrol flying in formation over the sector where the Admiral's remains are." With a flash of light the Broadsword enters hyperspace and jumps back to the other side of the battle screen, the Prowler and Pillager following suit a few moments afterwards. Blake's turning another Bomber to dust when the fallback order comes to him. <<"Okay kids, lets get the hell out, guys. I got you covered.">> And indeed, the young man makes several strafes to make sure the A-Wings are headed back, before he follows, evading the last of the fire from those few TIEs that are left to him. It was a miracle that Blake wasn't dead, not to mention majorly damaged by the fight, but perhaps the luck of the rookie was on him today. Another day was another day. <<"I think I can sleep for a week!">> He proclaims as he gets closer to the Reprisal, wiping off some of the sweat that seemed to cover him during the fight. As the Rebel fighters return to their ships, Lanil chases after a few for a few clicks before slowing, "That's right, run away, COWARDS!!" Taking a moment to calm himself, he keys the mic, "Wolf...what price we pay, eh? Let's round 'em up. We'll get them next time, Commander. I swear it on the Grand Admiral himself, we will get them." Wolf nodded as the order from Lynae came over the comm. He spun his TIE fighter, "Alpha 3, On me. The rest of you, form a perimeter around my location on my mark." he said, letting loose a few more shots as a retreating X-Wing flies above him. The engine caught fire leaving the pilot ablaze. Wolf was not happy. "Mark." he said, pulling his TIE to a stop above Danik's debris. "This is not a good day." he said, looking out the front viewport at Ensign Sarai in Alpha 3. "It was a price.. But the Rebels will pay." Wolf said in reply to Lanil. Guiding the Broadsword towards the debris field, Captain Caiton carefully scans the area again and again, gently using the tractor beams to maneuver the remains into a confined area. She signals Black Leader to fall back long enough for her to tractor the remains into the lower hangar deck, a team already suited up and prepared to sort through the remains in order to provide a decent burial for the Admiral. This takes several long minutes, and Lynae does the work herself, refusing to delegate so much as an ounce of this task to any other officer. It's the least she can do. Once the debris is cleared down to the smallest shred that the sensors can detect in the area, she signals the Malevolence and guides the Broadsword close enough to dock. Once the NR folks realize what is going on, a quiet moment passes on the bridge of the Reprisal. "Don't interfere with them," the bridge officer orders his people as a couple of the fighters feel the urge to go after them. "Let them honor their dead, as I hope they would allow us to do if the tables were turned." It's a solemn moment on the bridge of the NR ship, but of course, there are congratulations passing along as the fighters land in the hangar bay. "Doomsday, out." From SW1ki, a Wikia wiki.
- Age definitely has caught up to the Imperial warhorse. No matter how skillful a man may be, even if he has some help from the mystical Force, nothing can stop time. Kreldin had a good run, though. Sitting in the cockpit of his signature crimson TIE Interceptor, Black Star I, his fighter for over a decade, Kreldin ponders his current situation. He was nearly shot down several hours ago by Ghost Squadron - severe damage was done to Black Star I, and Kreldin was forced to retreat, War Shrike covering him as he made his way back to the Malevolence. Some quick repairs were made on the fighter. Nothing extensive - Kreldin couldn't spare the time. A war was going on, after all - his war. The invasion of Coruscant is his work, or so he considers it to be. The seed was planted a long time ago before he unleashed the Blitzkrieg upon the galaxy - and now, here it was. The genius of his work, in all of its beauty. Somehow, though, Kreldin just can't seem to relish in it as he thought he could. Something has been bothering him ever since he arrived at Coruscant. Maybe it's the realization that he was getting old. That he was being overtaken by the next generation. Or maybe it was the foreboding feeling that this place was to be his resting place. Well, if he's to die, then what better place than Coruscant? His seventh time fighting here - lucky seven. How ironic. Grinning, Kreldin accelerated alongside War Shrike Squadron, flying across the bow of the HIMS Predator. "Keep close to your objectives, War Shrike. Dark Sword needs to make it to the target (NRSD Monarch) and deliver its payload. Keep all enemy units away from them as long as possible." Sweating heavily beneath his flight suit, Kreldin is extremely apprehensive. The Dark Side reaches out to him, whispering horrific notions to him through the Force. Kreldin wishes he could just shut it up. Closing his eyes, he tries to push the voices out of his head, but to no avail. Flying in command of the War Shrikes once again, Krieg leads them into battle. He runs the normal checks, making sure to have everything in the green; exactly where it should be. He calls back to the admiral, "Understood sir, will keep them safe. Executing Sierra procedures." He turns to his squadron and orders up the formation to keep protection around the bombers, a slight shift from the original positions. They stay in tight to keep it looking like there were fewer craft then really were that were attacking, and keep their eyes out for the enemy fighters. Soon they would once again be in the heat of battle - such was war. When the Imperials had sent TIEs out, the NR side quickly spotted a rather familiar (and very disliked) fighter out there... the Black Star. And in the middle of a debriefing aboard the Reprisal, a very surprised Kyrin Sh'vani had a helmet thrust at her, as well as one of her spare flight suits, orders coming down. "You've met him, you can fight him," she's told, and she nods apprehensively, running for the hangar bay and leaping into the newer X-Wing that is replacing the one in the graveyard. A grimace passes over her blue-skinned face because it hasn't yet been modified to even minorly accommodate her wings. Still, she doesn't complain, getting back to work and getting launch clearance with elements of Ghost and Falcon Squadrons and even a couple of the Daggers in their shiny B-Wings. Surprise registers on her face when she's named flight leader, and she idly wonders if the pilots under her command will suffer the same fate as the ones she flew with last time around. With a sigh, she flicks the switch to open her S-foils. "Flight, this is Phoenix," she states into the comm, using her callsign for the first time, "Form up on me, delta-v formation. A-Wings are to move forward and take on the squadron in the first pass to scatter them. B-Wings will go second to pick off the scattered fighters. X-Wings will make the third pass. Good hunting, and may the Force be with you." Life was nothing if not ironic. Blake Hishiko, the - oh right, rookies don't get callsigns, had been on the Reprisal all of three hours when the scramble alert was called. The young man barely has time to put on his flight suit and touch his A-Wing (An A-Wing, isn't that some luck?) before he is launching into the chaos. To make matters worse, his first battle was against one of the most feared pilots of the Empire. "Let's get some luck in this, okay?" Blake murmurs to himself, before tapping into the communicators: "Falcon 8, going in hot." While he was still a rookie, Blake had one of the best top scores in the academy, and that thought tempered his fear. Of course, as he soon finds out, the scenarios are much different than real life. Trying to ignore the cold sweat on his skin, Blake sticks to and fro, all the while trying to locate the primary target. <<"Nothing like a bit of hot sticking to wake you up, eh boys?">> The little joke isn't really apt for the moment, but it was a bad reflex, even as Blake's starfighter zoomed ahead of the X and B wings for the first strike. Taking the helm of the Broadsword personally, Captain Caiton settles into the seat with a calm, almost serene, expression on her face. Speaking to the fighters at her command she orders additional support to fly escort for the Admiral and provide additional support. While Viper and Basilisk squadrons deploy around the Broadsword and her sister ships Pillager and Prowler, the captain maneuvers the Broadsword into a better firing position. With confident keystrokes she calls up tactical options, assessing the threat board before speaking over her shoulder to Jast, "Maybe this time we'll have a chance to try that new tactic." The StarOps tactical channel crackles a bit as a transmission comes across the net. "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Forming up in Delta V; S-Foils locked in attack position and awaiting instructions. Glad to see you out with us again, Phoenix. Sandman, out." And with this, Kesander Beysarus begins to methodically go about the business of combat. Shields are tweaked and angled forward, weapon systems checked and rechecked. "By the Maker," breathes the Corellian pilot as he beholds the full panoply of battle that fills space before him. "Time to go to work," mutters the Flight Officer to himself as he shifts his stick subtly to maintain his place in formation. Danik felt in good company, however. It provided some ease. Commander Inrokana and Captain Caiton were well respected by the Grand Admiral. Hell, the entire Broadsword and War Shrike squadron were. Danik kept his course steady, several units to port of the bomber flight. The Monarch was already under heavy fire, and this payload should be more than enough to damage it enough for the others to finish it off. If all went to plan, of course. It was just up to Kreldin, War Shrike and the Broadsword to keep the rebels off the bombers. As the Monarch grew closer and closer, a chill is sent up Kreldin's spine. A sensation in the Force alerts him to impending danger. While not immediately visible, Kreldin checks his scanners and spots the disturbance. "All units, this is Kreldin. Picking up multiple bogies approaching from vector seventeen." One squadron. Two.. three.. five... hell, nearly three wings of rebel fighters, bearing on them. Cursing, Kreldin began to peel to port. "Gonna need reinforcements. Broadsword, lay down a cover barrage. Dark Sword, disengage for the time being; we'll resume our attack run once we deal with these pests." With the voices continuing within his head, Kreldin turned to face the approaching rebels, prepared to take them all on. Flying in tight formation with his two wingmen, Krieg stays in relatively close to Kreldin, but makes no first attempt to attack. They were here to protect, and the NR needed to make the first move. He inches the power forward, the shields up at full strength. The orders to the squadron were clear, but he gives one last note. "Shrikes, maintain protective barrier and stay in communication with the bombers. Not one will be shot down, make sure of it or you're answering to more than just me." He clicks off the comm, it wasn't needed what he said, but it was the truth. "And may each of you come back to drink with me." That was more like him, after all. The fighters move in two formations, one staying in tight with the bombers to fend off any attacks while the other lead elements more forward to engage and dictate the pace of the battle and hopefully pin them up in an area where the bombers will not be. Calling the Grand Admiral he says, "Lead elements forward deploying to engage. We'll keep you safe today, Admiral." Every now and then there were times for a good chuckle, to lighten the edge and stay sharp in the battle that lies ahead. Though Krieg probably will hear about that one later, heh. After getting the new orders as well he calls back the squadron, "All fighters, forward engage. The bombers can get themselves out for now." Krieg punches the power to max and brings up targeting solutions while monitoring the grand admiral's position. Getting good locks he opens fire, to be rewarded moments later with green streaks of death lashing out from not only his craft but the rest of the squadron. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin shifts in the seat, trying to get comfortable and pinching one of her wings instead, peeling her lips back and hissing until she shifts back. She hates the fact that other ships get there before she does, but that's one of the downsides of not being able to fit into an A or B-Wing without extensive mods that the NR won't commit to for a single officer's sake. The NR doesn't design 'em for Chyleni. As the delta-v formation shifts position so that the faster ends of the wings move forward, the A-Wings reaching the advancing TIEs first, bright red fire lancing out in a fervent attempt to scatter the Imperials, much like a cue ball striking into the triangle of balls on a billiards table. Besides the 12 fighters under her command, the NR has launched hundreds of starfighters, all with their own squadron leaders. The sky over Coruscant is thick with those annoying little fighters that took down Death stars and made lives miserable on both sides. Several squadrons are detailed specifically to protect the Monarch. "They seem to be focusing on that ship," Kyrin observes. "Let us ensure they may not destroy another one of ours, shall we?" The B-Wings borrowed from Dagger Squadron reach the War Shrike formation. "We need to take out those bombers first," Kyrin remarks into the comm. "They must not be allowed to harm our capital ships. A-Wings, focus on the bombers. B and X-Wings, with me on the TIEs. I will take on the crimson ship. May the gods protect me." With a grim expression on her face, she locks her targeting computer into tracking Kreldin's ride no matter what. Falcon 8 teeters slightly in its velocity, corkscrewing every so often to avoid the flash of TIE lasers. <<"This is Falcon 8, roger assignment">> Shifting in his seat, Blake lets out a breath before taking a large swerve, veering from his arrow towards the Fighter. Nope, no direct dogfight glory just yet for the young man. With a practiced touch, the A-Wing levels, syncing up with four others before they simultaneously let out a barrage on the nearest unit of Bombers. Regardless of success, Blake breaks formation the second the barrage ends, strafing to avoid a counter assault before forming up for a second run. <<"Any clue what they have up their sleeves?">> Damnit, Hishinko, concentrate. So distracted was he on procedure and his communications, he nearly gets clipped by a TIE. Luckily for the young rookie, another A Wing catches the blast mere dozens of meters away. "Copy that, Admiral," Captain Caiton replies as she maneuvers her ship away from the shadow of the Malevolence, the Prowler and Pillager moving along side. At her mark they maneuver away separately, the Prowler taking the high axis and the Pillager coming in at a lower angle, diving down beneath the plane of the fighters approaching from vector 17. Relaying her orders to both ships captains, she cues up the comm freq long enough to hear the orders being relayed by War Shrike lead and signals next to Black Squadron XO, "Commander Wolf," she calls via comm, "deploy your squadron and form up with War Shrike." At her command, Basilisk and Viper begin sorting themselves into formation, orders received to fire when ready. "One fighter from each squadron form up on the admiral and provide honor guard," she orders while reviewing the tactical display long enough to select the first series of targets and using the forward mounted turbo laser batteries for the opening barrage. Not more than a heart beat later both escort ships open fire as well, dividing the battle field into three easy segments to attack and defend, relying on each other to take care of their own segment of the fight. "TIEs are on the menu, roger that, Phoenix. Sandman, out." transmits Kesander across the StarOps net. On the Corellian's scopes, dozens of targets now blossom. Focusing in on one particular Imperial ship, the pilot of Ghost 7, sideslips just enough to set the TIE in the sight reticule of his Heads Up Display. Instinctively, the Flight Office squeezes his weapons trigger and four laser cannons belch forth a hail of sizzling, hell-fire red laser bolts at the designated target. Things had taken a turn for the worse. Well, it's not that bad - Kreldin has been through worse. Besides, not like he's alone. As the fighting starts, Kreldin is quick to enter defensive maneuvers, rolling and sliding in between rebel starfighters. Utilizing his fighter's upgraded engines, Kreldin is able to quickly fly by even the A-wings without much trouble. While he can't take them all on directly, he can surely confuse them and break their ranks: flying dangerously in between them, attempting to cajole them into going after him (what better target than one painted red for you?). His wild spins, dives and crazy stunts should be enough to catch the attention of the rebel fighters, forcing them to break formation and go after him. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he forced a few of them to crash into each other if he scared them enough. He continues to fly dangerously close to enemy starfighters, only to break off at the last moment and turn in a completely different direction and repeat the process. In the mean time, as he catches their attention, hopefully the squadrons behind him will take his cue and mop them up as their concentrated on him. At least, that's Kreldin's plan. "Good to have you with us, Black Squadron," Danik says as he hears over the comm of their arrival. "Let's get this war over with!" Danik keeps his confident, usual appearance for his men. But inside, Kreldin is troubled. The voices haven't stopped yet. The Dark Side continues to taunt and tease him. It isn't helping him one bit, distracting him from his fight. 'Shut up....' The voices become so loud as to nearly cause Kreldin to crash into a B-wing. Turning at the last second, spraying laser cannon fire at the B-wing, Kreldin shakes his head, worrying more and more that this fight will be his last. Breaking in a starburst formation, Krieg pulls hard up while his right wingman breaks right and down, the left going left and down. The three fighters maneuver into positions with the enemy, taking on lead elements, juking, diving, spinning and rolling hard; depressing the trigger most of the time. Keeping their weapons at full power helps, to which they are rewarded with shield hits and several scores across enemy hulls. One blast comes in and grazes the shields of Krieg's craft, just as he pulls the killing blow on an A-Wing that had strayed into his fire arc. That was one less fighter to get to the bombers, Krieg thought. Every so often he checks up on the Grand Admiral's status, making sure he's doing well as they move in and out of fighter formations, breaking them up and engaging other targets. The rest of War Shrike squadron does its best to take all the enemy craft on, but it was not easy with the sheer number they were engaged with. Some rebels make it through, slipping past to engage the bombers, but there were not enough yet to move in and overwhelm the group fighting. He watches one of their own go down, the debris filling a fiery ball in front of him, the enemy was laying it on thick. However, the rebels were taking a beating too. "Shrikes, keep moving and use team tactics. Clear them as you see them." A fighter moments before had picked up Krieg's tail, but his wingmen converged rapidly on the x-wing, taking it off its course and re-thinking its strategy. As soon as the Imperials opened up with their capital ships, Reprisal and her sister ships started tagging their friendlies and then acquiring firing solutions on Broadsword, Prowler, and the other Imperial ships. The gunnery crews were scrambled and in position, orders to fire authorized and confirmed and acted upon. "We can't let this go unanswered," the officer on duty says as the order goes down to find Captain Stone. In Ghost 4, Kyrin grimaces as Danik's tactics were successful in a couple of circumstances. "Sandman, on my wing. We will take down this one ourselves. The rest of you, do not dally with the crimson one. Focus on the other TIEs. A-Wings, continue on their bombers. Falcon 8, keep your focus and you will survive. This is what we call a target-rich environment." Kyrin flicks off several rounds of red fire toward Kreldin's ship without waiting for Kesander to take her wing, trusting him to follow the order implicitly. The other fighters break and engage the TIEs of all four squadrons, with a brace of A-Wings from one of the other ships taking on Viper Squadron all on their lonesome. Guiding the Broadsword in a descending arc, the ship maneuvers below the battle plane before rolling in a smooth turn and firing on the ships from below. With the Pillager and Prowler doing the same from their vectors, they aim at any of the swarming little rebel ships that are a plague upon Coruscant, on the universe itself. Leaving the actual firing to her tactical officer and his assistant, her display shows the Reprisal finally answering the call to battle. "There we go," she breathes. As more fighters sortie out from the task squad and the nearest ships in the sector, the Broadsword and her escorts are finally clear to concentrate their fire on the Reprisal instead of the little ships. "Follow me in," she orders while bringing the Broadsword even closer. Plotting the course with extraordinary care in an instant the Broadsword and her escorts enter hyperspace, winking out of the sight of the battle. <<"Aye aye, continuing assignment.">> It was easier said than done. Somehow, even as A-Wing after A-Wing find a premature end, Blake lingers, letting loose another flurry of laser fire on the bombers. It goes well for a while, but as the young man begins to veer for another run, a red streak runs literally meters from him. His first reaction is to strafe, but his instincts kick in, and he goes against training, just in time to see another A-Wing take over the real estate he would have been in. That... would have been nasty. <<"Ghost 4. This bogey is giving the wing hell. Request permission to act as a hassle. Play the Rabbit to his dog, so the A's can finish the bombing run.">> He waits for the confirmation or rejection for a moment, before breaking off again blasting his guns at the red ship, in an attempt to catch its attention for a moment. Whatever it took to save the lives of Falcons and other pilots. Ghost 7 now firmly finds a place just to starboard and behind Ghost 4. In his cockpit, Kesander winces a bit as a couple more stray green blaster bolts flash his forward deflector screen, making some of his system status displays shift momentarily to amber before resuming their nominal green condition. "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Getting a little hot in here, Phoenix. Call the game and I'll follow. Sandman, out." The TIE Interceptor Mk II slips from its hangar bay slot, the ion engine wash reverberating throughout the hangar bay before the craft slips out into the dark void. Checking all the systems, Lanil keys his radio to the battle frequency. The Broadsword's microjump illuminates the space around him for an instant before the light fades again, leaving only the glow of Coruscant, and the red and green streaks of laser fire being exchanged ahead. Keying the mic, he addresses the War Shrikes and Danik, "Now now Mr. Inrokana, can't let you have all the fun, can I? Admiral, thought you could use some more support sir...that and I couldn't resist the chance to fight beside you again. Just like old times, aye?" The old man laughs at himself and ramps up the starfighter's speed, coming ever closer to the ensuing battle, but then at the last second, he jukes the craft straight down into a dive. "Time to thread the needle," he murmurs, and pitches back up to line up on a path to fly between the crossfire, hoping to draw some other craft with him, or at least throw them off track. As Wolf sat on Danik's tail as if he were nailed there, he observed the Admiral as he seemed to be losing it. "SIR!" he shouted just before Danik pulled away from the B-Wing.. "Are you alright, Sir!?" Wolf said, now pretty worried. Wolf had Black 2 on his back as Wolf was merely a defensive shield for Danik's six. Managing a smirk, Kreldin pulled hard on his throttle as the X-wing piloted by Kyrin comes in for the attack. Apparently the damage inflicted upon the Interceptor earlier was not as repaired as he thought - the problem with a rush job. The TIE doesn't respond, and for a few moments Kreldin is motionless is unable to maneuver. Fortunately for the warhorse the lasers overshoot him. "This is Kreldin. Controls aren't responding - seems the engineers have let me down." Kreldin keeps his calm, however. He continues to apply pressure, hoping for any response. Watching as more X-wings and A-wings fill his screen, Kreldin immediately knows he's in trouble. "Keep those bloody fighters off my back, will ya, Jast?" he responds upon the arrival of Lanil. Is this what the Dark Side was warning him about? Laser blasts impact against the shields of the Black Star I, forcing his fighter into a vicious roll that bangs Kreldin's head against the insides of his cockpit. "No, no.. I'm not alright!" Just as another laser blast impacts his shields, effectively neutralizing them, Kreldin manages to regain control. He spins his fighter around, a bit more sluggish than usual, to return fire on the rebels. "I might have to pull out of this one." His luck better not let him down now. As they notice the Broadsword start moving... Reprisal's crew goes into a seeking sort of posture. Microjumps being an Imperial tactic they're familiar with. "Don't forget the ones we can see, but keep an eye out for the ones we can't," the officer says in calming tones, trying to keep the crew's confidence up without letting it get out of hand. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin nods, although no one can see it. "Roger that, Falcon 8, good luck." Focusing her fire on Danik's fighter, she uses her innate knowledge of flight and dogfighting to help her cast her X-Wing into crazy maneuvers that barely grey her vision. "Sandman, I hope you have not yet eaten today," she says as she continues harrying that crimson fighter. Sweat runs down the side of her cheek as she keeps throwing her fighter through the daftest sorts of maneuvers to keep up that would have Incom's engineers soiling their trousers in denial. Her laser fire finds a TIE that's covering Danik's fighter, clipping one of the wings off and leaving it in her wake for Kesander to nail good and proper. "Be mindful of new arrivals," she warns as she spies Lanil's fighter on her scopes, but her computer has got the crimson ship locked on in a suitable yellow shade, and she urges the X-Wing to make it turn red so she can shoot at it. Wolf and Black 2 are still near, but her goal is the red one... which suddenly stops juking. The Chyleni presses the advantage against the sluggish TIE, holding down the trigger as she passes by Wolf and Black 2. "NOW, Sandman, while he is limping! Keep those other two off if you can!" Keeping fast and maneuvering in an area relative to a sphere, Krieg keeps shooting at and scoring hits on multiple different ships that engage in his area. His wingmen play a deadly game of luring them in as they are being chased, where Krieg then engages from an angle disadvantageous to their shields, usually scoring hull hits, and blowing out the shields on several. Soon, though, the fighters that he engages turn into fireballs, the teamwork exercises start to pay off. As one of his wingmen gets hit they switch off with the other, giving time to recharge the shields. Krieg, however, is able to capitalize on all their movements, and soon is becoming quite the fighter to engage. Though he wished he could fly with grand admiral - he was succeeding to some attempts to slow down the progress of the rebels. Getting a readout Krieg can see there were some familiar faces to be had here and there... Soon he'd have to seek them out and engage, though shooting down the craft here was becoming almost... too easy. Perhaps the attrition in this area would alert them to send more forces, or it could leave a gap in the battle - he may have to seek out more craft to engage at that point. Though in the environment they had, that was not hard. Several moves that Krieg makes take his craft on dangerous intercepts of his wingmen as he engages those that pursue them, almost interlocking solar panels as they pass. A deadly game indeed, one that many of the A and X wing pilots do not see coming until it is too late. The last call makes Krieg laugh, but he is too far engaged to really respond. Let Lanil have his fun as well... The calls from Danik come across his comm; he fights for control of the battle, getting good hits and sending the last x-wing into a fireball. "Shrikes, continue to engage, looks like we're bailing the admiral out again. Move." His own craft responds rapidly as he analyzes the situation and takes appropriate action - engage enemy craft bound for the Admiral. At Caiton's command the three ships jump to the pre-programmed destination on the far side of the planet. And it's only with pre-programming and passing the word quietly that this little maneuver is even attempted. After all, micro-jumping into the same place as another ship is considered to be 'A very bad idea (TM).' But the jump is successful and up arrival on the far side of the planet, the trio of ships begin accelerating around towards the site of the battle where the Reprisal and her reserve fleet hold position over the planet itself. Activating the tractor beams along the way, Caiton's bridge crew scrambles like mad to round up huge chunks of space debris and funnel the garbage ahead of the trio. Once within range of the reserve units she orders the debris lobbed at the fighters by reversing the polarity of the tractor beams and shoving the debris right in their defenses. Without pausing she opens fire with every weapon she can fire at once, one concussive volley after another, the Pillager and Prowler doing the same while providing cover fire for the Broadsword at the same time. A risky maneuver, yes, but these things are worth trying. Toggling his comlink, Kesander grins and transmits: "I ate a protein bar before we took off. I should be able to keep it down." A split second later, the Corellian obeys Phoenix and fires on the wounded TIE that Ghost 4 damaged, finishing it with a bright explosion. Guiding his ship through the incandescent debris, the Flight Officer takes Kyrin's warning seriously at looks about for suddenly appearing targets. Seeing two TIEs in close proximity to Kreldin's crimson ship, he banks a bit to starboard to send another heavy salvo of red bolts at Wolf's ship. Once the confirmation is received, Blake grins, licking his lips ever so slightly. "Looks like my first battle may be my last, but you're a pretty decent ship Fal-Ei. I'll try to keep you together." With that, Blake's free hand presses a number of aux controls, changing the standard pilot set up on the A-Wing. A few seconds later, the Falcon 8 is blasting forward at full thrust, almost skirting in the same manner these strange Imperials were adopting. They were fast, but maybe he could be faster. <<"Hey Ghost 4, you're pretty keen, for my first command and all.">> Blake suddenly leans to the side, letting loose with his lasers, focusing on the escorts around the red ship. It seemed damaged, and the escorts were the ones now killing his comrades. The fire focuses the one on the lead, as Blake's A-Wing flirts dangerously close before finally veering off again. <<"Hope that gives y'all breathing space.">> And hopefully they'll give chase, so the A-Wings could stop the bombers. Reaching the apex of his ascent, Lanil yanks the flightstick back hard and twists the craft over in a rollout. Seeing Ghost 7 starting to come to bear on Danik, Lanil dives in from above at about four o'clock. Squeezing the weapon triggers, he grins as his craft belches forth green fire towards Kesander's X-Wing. "Danik, check your six, X-Wing coming up fast, I'll try to get him off of you!" Kreldin isn't known as the Nightmare of Athaniss for no reason. Even though his craft is bleeding, and he's up against immeasurable odds, Kreldin still has forty years of flight experience under his belt. Through the Clone Wars and beyond, Kreldin is more than a match for any one pilot. The Force is only an added bonus. But, when it came down to nearly the entire Republic starfighter ops against him, with a faulty starfighter - well, then things got complicated. Not even legends could be expected to survive for long. Not without help. Fortunately for Kreldin, help is on the way: from War Shrike to Black Squadron and Lanil Jast, and more. Kreldin's loyal soldiers. It makes him proud. He would smile, if it weren't for his situation and the voices still taunting him, from the shadows of the Dark Side. "Clear me an escape vector. I need to rendezvous with the Malevolence." Kreldin watches as several more of his escorts vanish under enemy fire. Those young men, dying for -him-. Kreldin shakes his head, and takes another look at his status screen. He was leaking fuel now, and he had more fighters after him than he could count. He isn't going to make it back to the Malevolence. As another shot impacts against his starboard solar panel, nearly tearing it off, Kreldin flips his fighter around to face the incoming rebels. "Scratch that. I'm not running today. Plow the road!" As Lanil warns him of the fighter to his six, he charges in on it. This is Kreldin's finest hour. He'll go down in history for this. At least that's what he tells himself as he watches the rebel units get closer and closer. He opens fire on the enemy fighters as more and more fire passes by him, hitting his escorts or shooting off into the wild. As the firefight intensifies, another shot finds its mark against Black Star I. In that instant, Kreldin sees it all. The Dark Side laughs at him. All his pride, honor. All his victories, all his defeats. Everything Kreldin held dear - all wiped out in an instant. In less than a second, Kreldin's Black Star I, the red starfighter that became feared across the galaxy, erupted in a vicious explosion. The debris went soaring through space and it all ended there. Black Star I was down. Kreldin was dead. Wolf's eyes widened at the light shining through his cockpit.. He didn't know what to do.. The Admiral had just blown up in his face and he could do nothing. Wolf spun out of control.. his hand hitting his helmet, "Knock it off." he said to himself, getting control of his fighter, his mouth dropped open as he took another look at the debris scattered out from Black Star One. "This is Commander Wolf to all TIE Fighter Squadrons, I want these NR slaughtered. I want their heads floating the debris of this war zone! I WANT THEM ALL DEAD!!" Wolf screamed into the comms obviously enraged and frustrated at the recent turn of events that now has his mind shattered in disarray. His fighter twisting and turning through every whole, ships on his left and right exploding as the rest of Black Squadron formed up on his six. When Broadsword returns to the party, Reprisal's officer in charge is quick to respond. "Get the fighters outta the way," he orders briskly, also calling for raised shields to deflect the space junk, the gunners doing their best to shoot through the flotsam and jetsam at the Imperial capships in return. However, some of the junk has to be shot at before it hits Reprisal and her sister ships. Tractor beam teams work feverishly to get what they can out of the way. It's a rather nice bit of teamwork for the Reprisal's crew. Good practice. Aboard Ghost 4, Kyrin glances at her scopes. A B-Wing's attached itself to their flight on Wolf and Black 2 and the Admiral's protectors. Not enough. Maybe. Then... the Chyleni's shots start stitching up the crimson ship. And when the TIE explodes, she's far too close to veer off, so she does her own plowing of the road, letting her ship simply pass through the expanding gases that are the remains of Black Star I and coming out the other side, her X-Wing's vanes pulling some of the material along with her for a few seconds. "DO NOT CELEBRATE!" Kyrin snaps into the net as cheers erupt from other ships. "We still have a job to do! Sandman, are you well?" Even as she arcs her ship around to deal with her wingman's aggressor and other TIE fighters, she continues directing her troops grimly. "Falcon 8, thank you for the assist, kindly take on the bombers. Everyone, BE WARY. They will be out for blood. Do not allow yourselves to celebrate until we all get home SAFELY." And she starts firing upon Wolf's ride, taking potshots at Black 2, since they're so gosh-darned close to each other. <<"That's what I'm here for, Ghost 4. Returning to assignment">> Blake's a cocky one, but he remains grim, mostly because he's being harassed by a number of TIEs wanting blood. Luckily, his crazy maneuvers keep him alive just long enough for him to fly by a unit of X-Wings, using the fighter's counter assault to lose the majority of his tail. The rest are lost by the speed of the A-Wing as he returns to his own attack. <<"You heard the lady, girls, we got bombers to stop.">> Oh screw being a rookie. If people were celebrating, he needed them focused, even as he takes momentary point, swooping in to deliver three well placed blasts on a nearby TIE Bomber's blast ports, hopefully causing enough for an ignition, before he focuses on the next two in front of him. As long as the X-Wings did their jobs, Blake would make sure the A-Wings would deliver speedy death in small doses. There's a collective gasp from the task fore, all hands at all frequencies that are monitoring the battle receive word from one source after another of the explosion of the Admiral's fighter. And a great many of the fighters respond to the news with flat out denial and disbelief. Aboard the Broadsword, Captain Caiton is in the middle of doing what the admiral had ordered, plowing a row in the fighters on this side of the battle screen, and almost gleefully doing it before she receives the word. Waiting for it to be verified she sobers from the gleeful destruction to a grim sort of mechanical detachment. "Lets take out as many of them as we can, send them with, as escorts into the beyond," she orders calmly, her voice relayed through her command and onto the other ships in the fleet. Arming her forward guns and everything she can train on the reprisal at once, the Broadsword continues hammering away at the Reprisals shields, the Pillager and Prowler taking out one fighter after another, working like the well oiled machine that they are. Lanil seems to freeze up. Danik Kreldin, one of the few people Lanil counted among his real friends, has just been killed. An admirable death for an admirable man, yes. Cries of "Remember Kreldin" will echo for months and years to come, yet the point still remains: Danik is dead. Letting his rage fuel him, Lanil slams his throttle forward. It's not about tactics anymore, it's not even about the Rebellion and the Empire anymore. It's personal: him versus them. An errant X-Wing becomes unfortunate enough to drift into Lanil's targeting arc, and the Commissar almost instinctively draws a bead on one of the engines. Spitting green fire at it, the craft is hit and spins off for a bit before the loss of containment destroys the X-Wing. "One...." He growls, the anger is clear in Lanil's tone as he turns to engage the next Rebel foolhardy enough to provoke him. Some of Janil's fusillade of green sizzling death needles pounds Kesander's forward shields, creating some minor over-loads inside Ghost 7's cockpit. Were his comlink on, StarOps would be treated to a string of the more vile Corellian oaths that exist. However, only his R2 unit, who has a limited appreciation for profanity, is witness to the corrosive invective. Instantly executing a snap-roll to the left and then pulling back his stick and pushing his throttle forward, the Corellian soon finds himself speeding on a banking arc along the z-axis out and away from the sparkling nimbus of gas and debris that is the remains of Black Star 1. Focusing, the Flight Officer begins to quickly assess his situation. Shields still operative. Laser cannons still on line. Power levels down, but recovering. Life support status flickering between green and amber. "Blazing hell. R2, see what you can do with life support," says the blond-haired man to his astromech. "I don't wanna run out of air before I get this bird home. And we're not done with this fight yet." Toggling his comlink, the pilot of Ghost 7 transmits: "Ghost 4, this is Ghost 7. Took a kick in the teeth back there, but I'm still in once piece. Going evasive while I see what I can do to mitigate some systems damage. Standing by for your instructions, Sandman, out." The day officer on the bridge of Reprisal grimaces as more of their forces get picked off. "Get that lady to back off, gunners," he snaps to the gunners, who get all the debris out of their way and seriously have at the Broadsword. "As long as they don't bring in any more ships, we should be able to hold out well," he says, scratching his chin as he assesses ways and means and tries not to pray for the Captain to get up here and kick their cans back to Selene. With Reprisal going full bore, angling in on Broadsword's bridge, the Monarch manages a few salvos in the direction of the Pillager and Prowler. "Good, good." "Careful there!" Kyrin warns as a couple of X-Wings from Krakana Squadron get a little bit too friendly for her tastes. "Do not let them goad you into foolish actions!" Such formal phrasing, yet it's what she does as her X-Wing locks onto another TIE and makes it so much space dust, a third TIE on her tally for the day getting winged by the first salvo, then completely vaped by the second. "Sandman, keep me apprised, return to the fight as soon as you can. Krakana 8, watch his back." And then all hell breaks loose as the Imperials start getting them out of the way. "What the...? Doomsday, are you tracking this?" Aboard the NR capship, the folks manning the scopes respond to the ships out in the thick of it. "All fighters, clear out from these coordinates!" And they give the ones where the Black Star had gone up, even though all the pyro's basically done by now. "We've got 'em! Fall back, fall back, save it for another day. Good job, people! Skipper's buying tonight, boys and girls." He hopes Stone doesn't kill him. Ah, well, not often they get to knock off an ace like Danik Kreldin. "Return to the barn, all squadrons." And with a last few potshots at Broadsword, almost like giving the other ship a final raspberry, Reprisal moves out of Broadsword's range, the Monarch able to escape the Imperials, although not entirely undamaged. The shields take one hammering blow after another, the ship itself shuddering under the impact and it's clear that it's time to micro-jump back to the Malevolence and the rest of the fleet. Captain Caiton holds position just a little bit longer, scoring a few more good rounds on the Reprisal before cueing the fleet to the jump back. She wants to stay in place, wants nothing more than to plow the Broadsword into the bridge of the Reprisal. It's clear from the expression on her face that this would be an easy maneuver, she's done it before. But this is her crew, her ship, and they will fight another day. "All units fall back to the Malevolence and stand down," she orders in a clear voice, repeating the command just in case some of her fighters have selective hearing issues. "Black Leader, I want a patrol flying in formation over the sector where the Admiral's remains are." With a flash of light the Broadsword enters hyperspace and jumps back to the other side of the battle screen, the Prowler and Pillager following suit a few moments afterwards. Blake's turning another Bomber to dust when the fallback order comes to him. <<"Okay kids, lets get the hell out, guys. I got you covered.">> And indeed, the young man makes several strafes to make sure the A-Wings are headed back, before he follows, evading the last of the fire from those few TIEs that are left to him. It was a miracle that Blake wasn't dead, not to mention majorly damaged by the fight, but perhaps the luck of the rookie was on him today. Another day was another day. <<"I think I can sleep for a week!">> He proclaims as he gets closer to the Reprisal, wiping off some of the sweat that seemed to cover him during the fight. As the Rebel fighters return to their ships, Lanil chases after a few for a few clicks before slowing, "That's right, run away, COWARDS!!" Taking a moment to calm himself, he keys the mic, "Wolf...what price we pay, eh? Let's round 'em up. We'll get them next time, Commander. I swear it on the Grand Admiral himself, we will get them." Wolf nodded as the order from Lynae came over the comm. He spun his TIE fighter, "Alpha 3, On me. The rest of you, form a perimeter around my location on my mark." he said, letting loose a few more shots as a retreating X-Wing flies above him. The engine caught fire leaving the pilot ablaze. Wolf was not happy. "Mark." he said, pulling his TIE to a stop above Danik's debris. "This is not a good day." he said, looking out the front viewport at Ensign Sarai in Alpha 3. "It was a price.. But the Rebels will pay." Wolf said in reply to Lanil. Guiding the Broadsword towards the debris field, Captain Caiton carefully scans the area again and again, gently using the tractor beams to maneuver the remains into a confined area. She signals Black Leader to fall back long enough for her to tractor the remains into the lower hangar deck, a team already suited up and prepared to sort through the remains in order to provide a decent burial for the Admiral. This takes several long minutes, and Lynae does the work herself, refusing to delegate so much as an ounce of this task to any other officer. It's the least she can do. Once the debris is cleared down to the smallest shred that the sensors can detect in the area, she signals the Malevolence and guides the Broadsword close enough to dock. Once the NR folks realize what is going on, a quiet moment passes on the bridge of the Reprisal. "Don't interfere with them," the bridge officer orders his people as a couple of the fighters feel the urge to go after them. "Let them honor their dead, as I hope they would allow us to do if the tables were turned." It's a solemn moment on the bridge of the NR ship, but of course, there are congratulations passing along as the fighters land in the hangar bay. "Doomsday, out."
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)