(Don't Fear) The Highwayman

[Progflaw99]

As the group had split up, Atlas had gone back to where his Z-95 was being maintained. Devoid of an astromech, much of the maintenance duty fell on not only the assigned maintenance crew but also the pilot himself. Thankfully he seemed to have a penchant for such things, in no small part to his upbringing. Though he'd completed his own maintenance cycle there wasn't much else to do, but he'd had a few personal touches he'd wanted to add. Not strictly regulation, but what was regulation these days? Yet under a provisional government, Atlas knew there was a lot of gray area and a lot of space between the lines - even in the structure of the TCAF. As he approached, he noted that the maintenance crew appeared to have finished up with their inspection. Good timing.

As if fate had known, the sound of blaring klaxons erupted across the hangar. His eyes snapped towards the large double doors which led to the central hub, more notable of course - the briefing room. It took him less than a minute, his boots slapping across the durasteel deck of the hangar, to reach the ready room. As he swung around the corner he almost bowled over a passing R2 unit. It was only a few moments more before he'd quickly skimmed the Op Order. He'd read the rest on the way towards the designated coordinates. Turning on his heel, he dashed for his ship.

Stopping just long enough to lazily throw on his flight suit and nab his helmet from the hook, he was back in the hangar, bounding up the stairs which led to his cockpit before leaping in. As the ladder began pulling away, he'd already begun a hasty pre-flight check, rapidly checking off marks on his accompanying datapad. Glancing down to the deck chief below, he saw the thumbs up. Engines were a go. As they roared to life, he sealed the canopy and stowed his pad. Atlas felt his ears pop as the pressurized cockpit reached optimal pressure. Wrapping his fingers around the controls, he guided his fighter in taxi sequence in line with the other fighters. Soon enough they'd get a call over comm for check in from their squadron leader. Till then, comms were open. Adjusting a few knobs, he keyed up to Lt. Fisher's individual frequency.

:: Looks like luck's a lady today - you ready? ::​

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[member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"]​

 

[Eris Volcata]

An hour after the meeting brokeup, Eris stood on the bridge of what she had adopted as her command ship, a Nebulon K-class Escort Frigate and one of the newer models of ship available to the MPTC. It was named Centares after the capital world of their fledgling nation, and it came equipped with a Reconnaisance mod. It made the ship somewhat more squishy than she cared for, but the long-range sensors, Towed array, and gravity well projectors would prove ideal for tracking, hunting, and capturing the pirate forces menacing the trade routes. She would rely upon her fighters and other support vessels to keep the Centares alive. The ship barreled through hyperspace towards its destination, its crew nervous but excited to see the action.

Eris, too, was nervous and excited. It had been some time since she had seen combat first-hand. She didn't like it, but she did relish it -- it made her blood pump, gave her purpose. She stepped up to the command table and opened a channel to the battlegroup that was traveling through hyperspace with her.

"Battlegroup Centares, this is Executor Volcata," she spoke into the open channel as she stood near her command display. "Please be advised of civilian and Jedi traffic in the area. The pirates will no doubt attempt to use civilians as cover. Check your targets, then check them again. Jedi from the Council Order will be on hand to assist. Coordinate with the Jedi pilots so that we are not duplicating efforts. Call your targets. Stay together. Fly well, and come home. Volcata, out."

She muted her microphone and requested a status update; the helmsman informed her: "We'll be reverting to realspace in moments, ma'am." And no word a lie; it was only a few seconds later that the Centares lurched into realspace. "Shields up at maximum," Eris called. "Start our scanners. Find me those pirates and mark them on the map." She activated her headset again. "Fighter pilots, stand by for coordinates." As threats were identified, they were assigned by algorithm to fighter groups based on distance and firepower. "You have your targets. Attack pattern delta -- go. Corvettes, form a double perimeter around the Centares and await further instructions." She turned again to the scan team. "Find the Corvettes something to shoot."

 

[Progflaw99]

Crimson bolts filled the void of space and Mathias felt the starfighter shudder as he depressed the triggers. Far ahead there was a brief flash, then an explosion of orange as debris burst. The Knight rolled to his left, the fighters on his wings following suit as they locked their own targets and fired. The initial strike had been devastating, enough so that the remaining uglies had briefly peeled off from their prey to regroup. Mathias and his wingmates would have to act quickly if they wanted to prevent any of them from escaping. Too late, the Jedi watched as a single fighter darted away from the rest before jumping to hyperspace. Another alert drew his attention, the R2 Unit in front of him trilling.

"I saw it.. It's too late now!"​

​

Again he leaned into the controls, the triggers depressing as he tracked another ugly into a burst of sparks and flame. *That's two down - we have to hurry up.* They'd given the other vessel enough time to break free for the moment but there was no telling how long the three could hold off the small swarm of pirates. If they were lucky, enough time to-- And there they were. In a flash of light the TCN Centares emerged from hyperspace, the hull of the vessel unscathed. One of the new Nebulon K's. Had he the opportunity, Mathias would have loved to examine it further but at present he had other concerns. Namely, the fighters that were now swarming towards he and his friends. Keying up first a quick message to the other vessel and then to the newly arrived TCN Centares, he prepared for the insane game of chicken they were about to play with the enemy fighters.

:: Attacked vessel, adjust course and get under the cover of the Frigate.:: ​

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:: TCN Centares, We couldn't be more greatful for your timing. One got away, we expect incoming any moment! ::​

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[member="Eris Volcata"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"]​

 

[Mirax Eygan]

Vee-One buzzed ominously. Something new and large was emerging out of hyperspace and the pilot droid did not like it, at least not at first. At the gunner's station Mirax continued to pursue her next target, a bomber by the looks of it - its wide-bodied craft slowly spinning, making it a challenging target for a missile lock.

All of the sudden, the screen flashed green and the bomber no longer appeared on her scopes. After a brief inquiry, Vee-One bleeped in the affirmative, then informed Mirax they were about to have company.

"Yeah, the large frigate - I see it," the Lorrdian muttered under her breath, attempting to track the escaped target. Blinking, she pushed her forehead tight against the rim of the gunnery binocs; having found the vessel regrouping with a small band of . . . friends. No longer interested in the Fenix, the bomber found bigger fish to fry - or something that presented far greater danger to its existence, at any rate. As she altered her own trajectory, Mirax could see the familiar spinning approach, echoed by the raider's companions. The frigate, being as big as it was, would present large enough a target that even a rolling ship could get a lock on it.

If they were any good at what they did, all it would take is some clever targeting and acquiring a lock - and the frigate would be so much space garbage . . .

<Attacked vessel, adjust course and get under the cover of the Frigate.>

Mirax blinked. There was that voice again, that of a familiar stranger. Good advice, the Lorrdian thought, the chuckled. Did he not see that they would all be swarming the fat bantha that just entered the system. The Fenix posed no threat, and she was certainly no 'catch' for these marauders, whoever they were.

"Oh, why not - let's listen to that pleasant sounding man. Vee-One, redirect all the power into the engines. Engage!"

Encouraged by the burst of speed which allowed her to close on her former mark, Mirax fired again. Two more blasts from the laser cannon caused the bomber to shy a bit as it entered target-acquisition range. "Come to momma," a soft, feminine whisper taunted as the bomber's roll began to slow. Just then, as Mirax brought her laser cannon to bear, the target suddenly jinked and cut away to starboard.

"Kriffing hell!" the Lorrdian swore aloud, then sighed in exasperation as the freighter veered off course, determined to find its target . . .

[member="Mathias Zaren"] | [member="Eris Volcata"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

It had taken them several minutes to prep for the jump, the coordinates they needed to travel towards requiring a dual phase jump. The first phase had gone swimmingly, however after reversion they'd had to recalculate off their original predictions. It had cost them in time. Even so, they arrived alongside the frigate they'd been send with - the TCN Centares. The newest in the Trade Council's fleet, the EF8K was a redesign of the Nebulon K Frigates used during the age of the Rebellion. It may not have been the most powerful vessel in the galaxy, but it packed a mean punch and by all appearances would serve the Trade Council Armed Forces well. It was only a shame the shipments of updated Z-95's hadn't arrived but such was life. Every dog had its day, right?

As he and his fellow pilots dropped out of hyperspace it was already pedal to the metal. A cascade of crimson bolts shot across the backdrop of the void in front of him before he recognized the angular hull of the Delta-7B. *They got here quick...* he thought, bearing down on his own controls as he scanned his sensors for enemy targets and quickly moved to engage. They had exited hyperspace in formation but now as he shot forward the time for that was over. He didn't wait for the instruction, instead letting instinct take over. He would meet the enemy head on, and as he chose a target Atlas began to prepare to open fire.

Only a few moments remained before they'd be embroiled in a heck of a dog fight, already a flight of TIE Uglies had broken off their pursuit of the ship he saw running for the Frigate and angled to intercept. It brought a grin to his face as he keyed up the mic to his own flight just before banking towards the incomers.

:: "Time to dance fellas." ::​

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[member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Mathias Zaren"] | [member="Eris Volcata"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"] | [member="Morgan Fisher"]​

 

[Kirie]

Morgan's eyes widened as they reverted, thrust into a full-on space battle. Crackling bolts whipped past his cockpit on either side, and ahead of him 3 fighters from the TCO were already engaging the uglies- cobbled together pirates ships just as likely to explode into a million pieces as they were to actually work. The initial chaos of the reversion had caused the small formation of Z-95s to scatter, each fanning out around the TCN Centares, the jewel of the TCAF's naval fleet.

Ahead of him, Lieutenant Viridian shot off, already rushing to engage the starfighters harassing a YT-2550. Morgan hung back, throttling down to half power. He craned his neck to see around him. It was better to assess your surroundings than to just rush in. As Viridian moved to engage a fighter, another ugly peeled away from the pack, moving downwards in a steep dive towards his tail. As the fighter fired, the bolts skimming past just to the left of Viridian's wingtip, he cursed to himself.

Slamming into full power, Morgan's Z-95 roared towards the ugly, his powerful engine easily making up for the lost distance. Closing in on the target, he squeezed the trigger, letting loose a burst of fire in front of the target, leading the shot. But the ugly pulled up sharply, and the shots missed completely. He grimaced, and hit the transmit button for his mic.

:: "Viridian, you've got one on your tail. I'm working on him." ::

Settling behind the ugly, he lined up his crosshairs, his more nimble fighter easily capable of keeping up with the ugly's attempts to shake him off. About 500m back from the target, he let loose another volley. This time, the shots were on target, striking the ugly on its small rear engines.

Morgan frowned as ship continued unharmed, an electric blue ripple radiating from the point of impact. "You've got to be kidding me!" He said to himself, banking away from the ship in order to get a better angle.

:: "It's still coming, and this one has shields." ::

[member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Mathias Zaren"] | [member="Eris Volcata"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

A myriad of starfighters were now locked in a dance, a dance that would find one or the other quickly exposed to the cold void of space at its conclusion. For now, the music still played.

Lights flashed, alarms chimed, Mathias' attention however remained unwavering. A dip, a dodge, a duck, he chased after a particularly quick fighter as it struggled to evade the scathing fire from his blaster cannons. Almost frustratingly, he was unable to get a lock. With every turn the lock just barely managed to slip. If he didn't take care of the fighter soon, it would be right back on the tail of the larger ship now headed for the safety of the frigate's defenses. The Knight couldn't let that happen. Gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath he focused on the here and now, the subtle wobble of his flight controls, the pulsing energy rushing through his interceptor - the small targeting reticle lining up on the ship in front of him.

:: You've got one on your six - standby! :: A pause, a gently squeeze - a burst of orange and crimson. :: You are free and clear, try to use the Frigate as cover! ::​

​

Spinning his fighter back towards the remainder of the raiding fighters he suddenly felt his stomach drop, a sick feeling overtaking his senses. *There are more - and close.* His eyes flicked towards the rapidly approaching allied fighters. They were already engaged - It looked like he and his wingmates would have to address the threat all three likely felt approaching from beyond. A quick transmission prepared his fellow pilots.

:: There's something else out there, it'll be here any second now. Stay on my wing! ::​

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[member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Eris Volcata"] | [member="Icarus Volcata"]​

 

[Mirax Eygan]

The Lorrdian's eyes narrowed. That bomber squadron is going to kill the crap out of that frigate and then they'll return for me. Unless . . .

Ordering One-Vee to pull Fenix' shield energy forward, Mirax would leave her aft as naked as a shieldless TIE bomber. The freighter engaged in a barell roll, full throttle - before leveling out again as Mirax triggered a snapshot at her target. It caught a piece of one wing, but the pilot dove beneath the freighter's line of fire.

Here we go!

She could almost -feel- shoving the maneuvering stick forward to follow the bomber's dive, but because the Fenix' rate of speed was a good fifteen percent faster than that of the enemy ship, the freighter moved into a broad loop. By the time Mirax inverted to finish the turn-off, the raider came back up and banked in on her rear.

Before the bomber could unload a missle into her aft, the Fenix broke the fighter hard to port and carved across the bomber's line of fire.

Simple maneuver - simple response.

Unable to glance at her instruments from the gunner's chair, Mirax ordered One-Vee to cut engine power back into recharging the ship's shields - in spite of the astromech's sharp-squealed warning.

Three more seconds . . .

The marauder's response to the freighter's break had been a reverse-throttle hop. By bringing the nose of the bomber up in a steep climb, then rolling out in the direction of the turn, the enemy fighter somehow managed to stay inside the arc of the freighter's turn. As the bomber leveled off, it closed very quickly with the Fenix - but not too quickly for a laser shot, Mirax thought - and smiled.

The bomber shrieked at the Fenix. Collision warning klaxons wailed. Mirax could feel the enemy pilot's excitement as the YT-2500 loomed larger. She knew the bomber would snap off a quick shot, then come around again, angry at having overshot the freighter but happy to smoke Mirax before commencing another attack run at the frigate.

Just then - as if anticipating his captain's thoughts - One-Vee hit a switch and shifted all shield power to the aft shields . . .

[member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Mathias Zaren"] | [member="Eris Volcata"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

All systems were green - for the moment. Atlas had ended up well ahead of his comrades in arms, the small ugly in front of him proving to be more nimble than first perceived. A silent curse slipped past his lips as he adjusted his aim. The spattering of cannon fire missed the intended target, sailing harmlessly into the void before dissipating. *Blast!* This was proving to be a challenge afterall. Though the enemy fighters had the appearance of being cobbled together, their pilots were skilled. Several hard contacts on his left rear quarter sent alarms wailing in the cockpit, Atlas' shield readout flashing in protest. The pilot gripped his controls tightly, rolling to the right while simultaneously trying to hang with the ship in his sights. To confirm the contacts he just felt, his comm barked to life as Lt. Fisher spoke up.

:: "Viridian, you've got one on your tail. I'm working on him." ::​

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:: "Much thanks." ::​

​

Atlas replied shortly, the tension in his voice audible despite his cold demeanor. He was focused. Flying in space was one thing, performing complex maneuvers and combat in the void was another matter entirely. It was all he could do to stay on the tail of his target, much less dodge the fighter now behind him. Rapidly, Atlas adjusted his shield power to the rear just in time too as another flurry of bolts erupted against the barrier. He couldn't keep this up forever. He hoped Lt. Fisher would be able to get an angle on his pursuer - if he didn't soon, Atlas would have to break off his own target to give the other pilot a clean shot. The hunter in Atlas refused the second option on principle, but now as his system board lit up, he began to consider it.

[member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Eris Volcata"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Icarus itched to join his squadron. He couldn't see the use of being in this in-person briefing, even if it was his mother giving it. The Executor laid out their goals and objectives to her commanding officers, and then turned them loose, finally letting Icarus go. What the briefing did for them was barely anything more than get in your fighter and blow up pirates -- not exactly the most nuanced of strategies -- so why it couldn't be done over the radio he couldn't honestly say. This and many other things Icarus wondered about as he jogged through the halls of the Centares towards the small hangar where his starfighter was parked. He clicked his flight-suit mounted comlink, signaling to his astromech droid in the hangar.

::"Get her warmed up, I'm two minutes out!"::

::Bzzzt -- bee-dee-boop!:: came the droid's enthusiastic reply.

He switched to the other channel, calling out to [member="Morgan Fisher"], [member="Atlas Viridian"], and the others in the starfighter squadron. ::"Danger Leader, en route to the battle. Status report!"::

Icarus rounded the corner into the hangar, a nexus of activity, and found the technicians finishing up the refueling process. He clapped them on the shoulder and thanked them, while his trusty purple astromech droid, R3-J5 -- Jay-Five for short -- twittered happily from its socket. "I'm coming, don't worry," said Icarus. He took one last walk around the fighter before mounting the ladder and swinging himself with no small measure of bravado and swagger. ::"Centares Hangar Control, this is Danger Leader, requesting clearance for takeoff, priority code zero seven alpha six, over."::

::"Clearance accepted. You are free to launch.":: came the response.

Engines lit, repulsors engaged, and moments later Icarus' A/Z-95-MP4 Advanced was screaming towards the battle.

 

[Progflaw99]

::"Danger Leader, en route to the battle. Status report!"::

​

The voice cut through the comms like a hot knife through butter. Despite his precarious position it brought a grin to his face. *I was wondering when they were gonna cut him loose.* Icarus had been their squadron leader since he could remember - admittedly a short time, but he was more than just a leader. His piloting skills surpassed even Atlas', though getting him to admit that without a few drinks first was harder than Mandalorian Iron. It was a welcome voice to come over the radio however, another barrage of laser fire strafing across his right wing. *Blast!* He was so close - too close to give up now. Admittedly not one of his smartest decisions, Atlas doubled down and squeezed the trigger, blaster cannons coming to life as he targeted the ship in front of him. He could almost make out the details of the maintenance panel on the rear of the ugly he was so close.

:: Good to hear your voice Danger Leader - Uglies, lots of them! ::​

For a moment it seemed as if his weapons were having no effect, the ship still managing to dip and dodge but then he saw it, the subtle spark as a bolt penetrated the armor plating of the vessel's hull. *Oh feth.* he thought glumly, he knew what was about to happen. As quick as he could, Atlas pulled back on the controls, sending him into a violent upward... *Is it really up in space?* turn, the shattering concussion of the ugly exploding rocking his vessel and jarring his teeth. Almost simultaneously his system board lit crimson, a shower of sparks erupting from a conduit nestled behind the pilot's seat. As if to cut off the pilot before he could even raise protest a flurry of beeps and clicks emanated from the astromech behind him. Trilling all the way, the astromech went to work, an arm popping out and beginning to reroute the blown capacitor through an auxiliary circuit. Atlas himself struggled with the controls, his engines sputtering.

:: Mayday, Mayday - This is Atlas, I'm dead in the water. I repeat, I'm dead in the water. ::​

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[member="Icarus Volcata"] | [member="Morgan Fisher"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"]​