Objective: BYOO – System Patrol
Location: Outer Rutan System
Allies: Vector Squadron | [member="Gabriel Lethe"]
Post Count: 1
The X-wing gave a small shudder as made the transition back into real space, the rolling cosmic blue clouds abruptly peeling away from the snub-fighter’s canopy to reveal a sea of stars once more. Somewhere out there, in the vast nothingness, there was a dirty green-turquoise smudge that apparently warranted the attention of the Galactic Alliance. Its only value, as far as Tam could see, was it happened to have lucked out and found itself strategically placed along major trading route. Certainly wasn’t for the sake of the locals, that was for sure.
The pilot stretched out languidly as he waited for the local traffic to filter through on his screen, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders a little to rid them of the stiffness and kinks that had settled in over the last few hours of mind-number hyperspace. That was the one thing they never warned you about back at the Academy. You have never experienced true claustrophobia until you were stuck in a cramp, tight cockpit for six hours straight with only your droid to keep you company.
Speaking of, there was a metallic little tweedle-weeble as his astromech confirmed the arrival of the rest of Vector Squadron, his onboard computer quickly registering and displaying the local IFF frequencies. Eleven red little blips, twelve including himself. A full house, neatly arrayed and closely packed. Whomever had plotted the jump had certainly done their job.
<<“Alright, listen up, Vector Squadron.”>> Vector Lead barked loudly, the man’s shrill and tinny voice somehow managing to achieve even more and, quite frankly, impressive levels of grating over the comms than it could in person. Their fearless leader, a sour-faced Gwurran, had been downright unbearable these last few days. No doubt in part to the recent rebuke command had handed down when it had passed him over during the last promotion cycle, robbing him of his dreams of a nice cushy desk assignment back at central. << “We’re here to run a standard patrol through the system. Shake the trees, see what falls out. Nothing more, nothing less. We do this strictly by the numbers. That means there is no room for deviation, no room for lollygagging and absolutely no room for shenanigans on my watch. Do I make myself clear, Vector Seven?”>>
Vector Seven. That was his callsign, a handle he wore as easily as that of Flight Officer Tamlin Severro. The apparent problem child of Vector Squadron, or as far as today seemed to be concerned. Knowing his fellow pilots, it was likely only a temporary placement. Vector Squadron had earned something of a reputation for being akin to a day care for trouble and wayward pilots, which in turn was likely the primary reason Vector Lead resented his job so much. Zoo keepers were paid to put up with far less.
<<“That seems a little unfair, Lead. I'll put my hand up to enjoying a little tomfoolery, maybe entertaining a few hijinks now and then, but I've never actually engaged in outright shenanigans before. I'll have you know Momma Seven raised her little boy better than tha--”>>
<<“I’m going to go ahead and assume there was static on the line, Seven, because I distinctly remember asking if I made myself clear.”>>
There was an aborted noise in the background. A stifled snigger or two from the other ten or so participants of the open squadron channel. Seemed someone was amused by all this. Not that Tam could fault them for that. If he was honest, had the roles been reversed, it might very well have been him on the other end trying to suppress his amusement. Not that he was admittedly honest very often.
<<“Yeah, you’re as transparent as ever, Lead.”>>
<<“What was tha--”>>
<<“He said copy that, Lead.”>> Chimed Vector Five, ever the burgeoning diplomat, charging in to save the day like some mythical Kilian Ranger. Probably not quick enough to save Tam from having to wash the snubfighters once they got back, but likely stalled the Corellian from receiving another mark in his file. <<“Two Flight is ready to head on to their assigned grid. I’m sure command will appreciate the lack of lollygagging.”>>
There was a momentary beat of static silence as the Gwurran fought to keep his composure, no doubt mouthing a whole host of obscenities all the while, before ultimately deciding that discretion was the better part of valour and committing only to a noncommittal grunt before spurring his X-wing onward to his assigned patrol area. Within seconds the rest of One flight was jetting off in pursuit, with Three Flight doing a similar twist of astrobatics to gracefully re-orientate their X-wings as they slipped away.
And then there were four.
<<“Don’t even say it, Seven.”>> Five cut across just as Tam opened his mouth again. <<“We might all thinking it, but we don’t need to hear it. If he lodges a complaint, these comms logs are gonna be requisitioned. Don't try to get cute, be smart for once in your life.”>>
<<“You wound me, Five. I don't need to try to get cute.”>> Tam replied glibly as he pushed the throttle down, the sudden rush of g-force pushing him back into his chair. <<“But I read you. Eight and I will head on a way, loop around just below the third moon. Try to keep up.”>>
