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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Oct 26, 2005 10:50:11 GMT -5
Marcus: This is General Marcus Starkiller of escort fleet Defiance to enemy ships. Negative on surrender... we will not stand down.
Raptor Squadron forms a wedge formation and prepares to engage the enemy.
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Post by Binary the Great on Nov 13, 2005 2:48:10 GMT -5
(( Apologies for the tardiness, Marcus. Job search was taking up way too much time. ))
"Sir," called out the communications officer on the vessel, "incomming reply from the Alliance flagship. Negative on the surrender."
Captain Beale shook his head slightly and sighed. "So be it," he answered sternly. Walking towards the transparisteel viewport, the officer frowned. "Gunnery, fire at will," he commanded. One of the warrant officers in the pit gave a slight nod from the gunnery control station, dispatching the command down the chain. Within seconds, the mighty batteries on the bow of the star destroyer opened up on the Starkiller's Pride, emerald bolts of plasma arcing through the vast emptiness towards the pristine Alliance flagship. This opening volley signalled to the remainder of the fleet to likewise open fire. Similar volleys soon filled the space between the left and right flanks, as well as the victory serving to the star destroyer's side.
"Omega Three, tally one-two, my foreward high," called in one of the pilots in her squadron. She was already confirming the call when she noticed something unusual: only one squadron was challenging them in combat. "Cocky buggers, these Rebels," continued the pilot. Patel chuckled without keying up her comlink and adjusted her grip on the controls.
"Breaker Niner, all ships loosen up and happy hunting. Breaker Niner engaging, over." Patel exhaled softly as she pulled her reticule ahead of the first Incom T-65 identified to be hostile. Pulling the trigger smoothly, cross-linked bolts of highly-energized tibana gas were expelled into the path of the Alliance T-65; not directly at the fighter, but deflected to intercept where the fighter would be when the bolts arrived.
After several seconds of sustained fire, the vixen released the trigger to allow the capacitors to recharge. She allowed herself a quick situational check to keep her tail clear, then refocusing on the T-65 before her, forcing the ill feeling she had out of her mind.
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Nov 13, 2005 14:03:43 GMT -5
Escort One breaks coarse before flying into the enemy fire. Marcus commends the enemy on fighting like Imperials.
The Starkiller's Pride continues to take a beating as the enemy vessel continue to fire.
Marcus: This is Escort Leader to the Pride... launch all remaining fighter groups.
A group of the old Y-wing fighters emerges from the hangerbay. The Y-wing group is Grey Squadron under the command of Afyon Essada.
Afyon: This is Grey Leader to Escort Leader, we have your backs.
Marcus: Good to hear from you 'Y' jock.
Another formation of fighters shots from the hanger of the cruiser, this time a group of B-wings, Blue Squadron under Captain Dunoka.
Dunoka: We'll keep them busy! Push it to the max Blues!
Another X-wing unit, this time from one of the support vessels launches. The fighters are those of Black Sheep Squadron.
Captain Ruso: Let's show the General how the Black Sheep do things!
Another fightergroup makes it's way from the Starkiller's Pride, a group of K-wings under the callsign Winged Vixen Squadron (the only all female squadron aboard the Pride), their CO is Lt. Cmdr. Rosia Tra.
Blazing Fist Squadron, which consists of several E-wings joins the battle alongside Krayt Dragon Squadron made up of X-wings, Bothan Squadron made up of LongProbe Y-wings, and Green Squadron which comprises of A-wings.
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Post by cyberpaladin85 on Nov 14, 2005 18:25:23 GMT -5
Captain Ruso: General Starkiller, are their any targets that should be our priority, or are we free to engage, Sir?
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Nov 14, 2005 18:27:30 GMT -5
Marcus: Take your picks Black Sheep. Good hunting.
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Post by cyberpaladin85 on Nov 15, 2005 19:31:53 GMT -5
Captain Ruso: "Thanks, Sir. Alright, all ships form up into standard battle formation. Let's show our foe that we mean business!
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Nov 15, 2005 20:06:58 GMT -5
Marcus: My the Force be with us all.
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Post by Binary the Great on Nov 16, 2005 1:01:16 GMT -5
"Captain Beale," reported the sensor officer, "combat update: enemy capitals have yet to return fire. Also, eight squadrons have been deployed from the Alliance vessels."
Captain Beale nodded and frowned slightly. "Understood. Communications, relay the deployments to the apropriate squadrons. Gunnery, continue firing on their flagship. I don't think we've scared them into inaction. Systems, what's the status of our gravity well field?"
Another pitcrew glanced up at Beale. "Sir," the warrant answered, "grav wells are in place. System time remaining is estimated at thirty minutes before projectors two and four are required to take over."
Beale nodded and kept his scowl. "Excellent. I want updates as they occur, people. I refuse to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory."
"Understood, Con, will advise," Patel replied to the information. "Make 'em some music, if you could, too," she added further. The vixen smiled at the affirmative reply and looked ahead. The sensor display gave her a number rapidly decresing on her newest target: the fore-most fighter designated "Escort 1" (the lead fighter is issued the one, not the 'lead' designation on Imperial displays). She inhaled slowly as she saw it count down to read two-thousand meters. "Omega squadron, scatter, engage," she said in one short burst. At once, the effects were visible.
What had been a tight-knit formation of TIE Avengers broke and scattered willy-nilly, although continuing towards Escort Squadron. Patel eyed the lead fighter and manoevered hers to fire into its flight patch, one more attempting to use the skill of deflection shooting. The emptyness between the two squadrons was heated by more bolts than her own as each fighter opened up with emerald packets of plasma on the hostile X-wings.
Lt. Vanderkaay frowned a bit as he recieved the report of delpying fighters. Damnit, he thought to himself, that makes everything harder.
"This is Alpha One," he spoke into his mic, "to Alpha, Beta, and Gamma squads. We have bandits incomming. Repeat, bandits incomming. Head on a swivel. Mu squadron, you know what you're doing. Alpha One, out."
Vanderkaay uttered something under his breath without keying the radio and sighed. This operation felt different, slightly, from what all the others had before.
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Nov 16, 2005 8:06:14 GMT -5
Commander Deana Perl walks over to fire control aboard the Starkiller's Pride.
Deana Perl: Open fire on enemy vessels.
Gunner: Aye Ma'am!
All weapons stations aboard the Mon Cal built cruiser open up.
Kaiya Dajus inspects the damage that was done to the main hanger. Several E-wings, or what is left of them, are spread out over the deck. A dismembered tech droid is laying in a heap and a dead mechanic id dragged out of an electrical fire by two astromech droids.
Marcus spots the incoming bolts but can't evade in time and the Tandem X-wing designated Raptor One loses power to one of it's seven engines.
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Post by Binary the Great on Nov 25, 2005 18:53:31 GMT -5
Captain Beale frowned momentarily as he watched the crimson bolts from the Calamari Cruiser shunted away by the deflector shields. "Status report," he called out, wanting to know how long he could expect the shields to remain effective.
"Shields holding, Captain," said the executive officer, striding to Beale from the far side of the bridge. "Further, our gunboats are unimpeded aroun their minor escourt craft. Their escorts are reporting no hostile fighters in the save, with what Alpha squad has already been made aware of. Omega squadron has engaged enemy fighters, but they seem to be reacting rather sluggishly."
Beale nodded and thought for a moment. "Transmit an update to the taskforce informing them of our status. Further, press the attack on the enemy. There's no stopping us now."
Patel smirked as she watched the emeral bolts connect with the enemy lead. However, she could tell that the damage was insufficient to destroy or force the withdrawl of the enemy. "Breaker Nine, pressing," she spoke into the comlink as she pulled on the control rods and pressed on the pedal controls to bring the TIE Avenger around and bearing once more on the T-65J. She gave the power report a quick glance before depressing the trigger again, dispatching more of the emerald plasma packets towards the hostile fighter. "Die, Rebel," she exhaled without keying up the transmitter, determined to add another kill to her record.
Commodore Vasage sat in his quarters reviewing status reports when he heard the chime to his door. Rising from his seat, he turned towards the door and adjusted his uniform. "Enter," he said clearly and firmly, allowing a slight smile as he noted the entrant.
"Sir," reported a fox bearing the rank of captain. "We have received a transmission from Captain Beale and his strike force. They've engaged Alliance forces and are working to destroy them. Enemy flagship is the Calamari Cruiser 'Starkiller's Pride' with a collection of unimportant escort vessels."
Daniel nodded and thought for a moment. He could not quite put a finger on where, but the name "Starkiller" sounded like one he should know. After a few moments, he nodded again. "Very well, Geoffrey. Instruct Captain Beale to continue as he sees fit, and to follow procedure upon completion of the capture."
The vulpine officer nodded and answered, "Yes, Sir." He turned to leave from the room, but stopped as he heard the raccoon begin to speak.
"Belay that, Geoffrey... Have Beale disengage, I think that the commander of the enemy fleet might be more valuable to us alive. Besides, they did open fire on a civillian vessel without confirmation." Daniel allowed a smile to cover his expression.
Geoffrey thought for a moment, then nodded with a grin. "Right away, Commodore. I'll have one of the freightors prepared and instruct Captain Beale to withdraw." Without another word, the fox stepped from the room and began the trip to the bridge.
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Nov 25, 2005 19:13:14 GMT -5
The bolts tear away one of the wings aboard General Starkiller's tandem x-wing. The damaged craft is sent spinning towards the Starkiller's Pride. Marcus and his wife do their best to retake control of their fighter, thanks to the powers of the Force, the x-wing regains its heading.
Marcus: This is Raptor Leader to Raptor Squadron... I think these boys are Imperial! Light em up!
The damaged tandem x-wing weaves through turbolaser fire from the Starkiller's Pride and the nearest enemy cruiser in an attept to get their pursuer blown out of the sky.
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Post by Binary the Great on Feb 1, 2006 2:43:48 GMT -5
(( Many apologies for the late reply. I've been putting it off, and finally just sat down and did it. I hope you haven't forgotten too much of what was going on... ;D ))
Captain Beale cursed silently as he read over the dispatch. The battle had gone markedly in their favour from stage one. No friendly casualties had, as of yet, been reported, and even his own vessel suffered naught but minor shield loss. The enemy vessels showed signs of moderate and major damage under the onslaught of Imperial firepower, though he was unable to confirm any serious losses of life on the other side. Frowning, he stepped from where he'd recieved the dispatch to the navigation pit.
"Lieutenant," he barked, holding back his inward distaste of the command he was about to give, "initiate tactical withdrawl back to the main fleet." The officer below gave a nod as Beale turned towards communications. "ComOps," he said as he moved towards, "inform the taskforce to initiate a tactical withdrawl. Further, the gravity wells will power down immediately. Ensure they recieve the word."
The executive officer, meanwhile, padded over to the engineering section. Keeping his voice down, so as not to speak over Beale, he gave the order for the gravity well generators to be powered down. Seconds later, the field that once held both fleets to realspace dissipated into nothingness. It would still take a small amount of time for the mighty vessels to charge up their hyperdrives, but the paths for the withdrawl were now clear.
"Damnit!" she shouted loudly in her cockpit, upon hearing the withdraw order. She had the enemy fighter nearly down, or so she thought, and was being told to disengage. Grumbling, she confirmed the order from command and relayed it down.
"Breaker Niner to all, bug out. Repeat; but out. See you at home plate. Confirm, over."
After a series of confirmations, ever careful to remain flying between the crimson and emerald packets of high-density plasma, she glanced towards the course she knew she would have to take. Juking and weaving around sporadic bursts of hostile point-defense fire, the highly-skilled vixen keyed in the proper hyperspace route and adjusted her own course to match. It was a simple matter to shunt the power from her lasers into the hyperdrive, although it still took several seconds to fully power up; seconds where she knew she was vulnerable. The gunners, however, did not worry her: it would take more skill than a droid could mete out to drop her that way. An enemy pilot, however, with a lucky shot... She put that thought from her mind as she switched on the automatic piloting systems prior to the jump.
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Post by Marcus Starkiller on Feb 2, 2006 17:36:33 GMT -5
Raptor 8: General, their making a run for hyperspace!
Marcus: Let them run. Return to the Pride.
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Post by Binary the Great on Feb 15, 2006 2:14:05 GMT -5
Captain Beale returned to his command chair and frowned slightly. "On my mark, execute the jump to hyperspace," he said with a scowl before counting down. A quick glance around the bridge told him to begin, as all the crew visible had braced for the sudden acceleration. "Three, two, one, mark." At once, the engines aft of the massive capital ship flashed bright white in color. Less than a second later, the entirety of the vessel had rocketed over the Alliance fleet -in relation to the galactic plane- for a destination that would be difficult to calculate after the series of course changes due. Scowl furthering, the officer rose from his chair and proceeded toward the hatch to the bridge. Glancing toward his executive officer, he muttered, "I'll be in my quarters if I'm needed."
Rajvinder locked the controls in and activated the hyperdive as soon as she heard 'mark' over the channel. She felt herself pushed back into the crash webbing for a moment as the force of a sudden, super-luminal acceleration overtook her and her craft. The vixen allowed a sigh of relief as she viewed the pseudomotion outside her cockpit. The remainder of the sortie was child's play.
The view opened with an armadillo sitting at a desk bearing the Galactic Holonet Network symbol. She adjust for a moment a few pads before before speaking.
"Good evening," she began, "and welcome to this edition of GHN News. I'm Tura Raftican. This evening, we bring to you an update with the situation of the viral epidemic on Destrada courtesy of our embeded reporter Greg Burdette. Following that, we have news of a New Republic cruiser opening fire on a civillian freightor in Arda system. Continuing the show, we will have our daily business reports and your local news."
She paused as camera views changed, she turning to face the new view.
"Our first story is brought to you by Greg Burdette, currently held behind the New Republic quarentine of Destrada. For those of you unfamiliar with the past events, a recent viral outbreak has become an epidemic of immense proportions. Pirate attacks along the common trade routes to Destrada brought all passage of medical goods to the planet to a halt, preventing proper treatment of the disease. And now, with an update, Greg Burdette."
The screen changed once more. A single coyote stood before a hospital, microphone in paw, as a large mob tried to get into the building behind him. New Republic soldiers were warily keeping a barricade around the entrances to the facility, though it was obvious a riot could start at any moment. Greg waited for a moment, listening for the cue from an earpiece he wore, before speaking.
"Thank you, Tura. Scenes like the one behind me have become very common with the rumors that the pirate attacks on shipping to Destrada have been stopped long enough to allow a large convoy of medical ships through. Local authorities are neither confirming nor denying the rumors, adding to the tensions at hospitals and depots around the planet. Several incidents of violence have already started at other locations, but use of crowd-control measures have kept casualties to minimum."
The camera panned slightly from the coyote over to the croud as the canid continued to drone about the situation. The camera-beast's reason for doing such was horribly obvious as a crimson bolt lept from the crowd towards one of the security guards above. Fortunate for the guard, the bolt struck and dissipated against his blast vest. The reprisal on camera was swift and relatively non-violent: the security guards returned fire into the croud with stun pistols. Saphire rings of energy lept into the mass of bodies, persons falling unconcious but otherwise unharmed in their wake.
"Hold on a moment, Tura," the coyote quickly said into his mike. "It looks as though a shot rang out from the croud. The Republic security responded fairly predictably, though, employing stun weaponry to control the violence. There don't appear to be any casualties at this time, but I cannot be certain at this distance." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "We're being asked to stop transmission and wait for an official statement. This has been a rather special and unexpected event. I'm Greg Burdette, GHN. Back to you, Tura."
The view returned to a rather astounded armadillo. "Well," she said, "the situation on Destrada looks as desparate as ever." She adjusted a pad before her before carrying on. "Comming up next: reports of New Republic warships firing on civilian freightors along outer-rim trade routes. This and more after these few short messages."
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