"Feth does he mean, help with the fireworks?" Karsa grumbled, just before he began to spit orders across the comm channels in fervent Mando'a. Several large coordinated efforts began to push across the battlefield. Jedi aligned forces buckled slightly under the intensified pressure, but only just enough for the fireteam to push through. Concentrated fire suppressed the line outside their position, and their armor and shields held up under duress.
Several loud curses escaped many of them as the heat grew almost unbearable. The broken line repaired itself almost as quickly as it had given way. Karsa had expected nothing less from some of the best trained soldiers in the galaxy. This was not an effort to overwhelm the opposition- that would almost certainly have ended in failure. No, this was the beginning of a tactical withdrawal.
"All units, the warzone is heating up fast," Karsa called across the Mandalorian main channel. "Shock Team Tango is fortifying the courtyard area- withdraw from the main staging area as quickly as possible. Alk'ika is planning something involving ordinance."
There. Succinct.
********
"Something involving ordinance," Alkor snorted. "That sounds ominous."
He glanced across the Hangar Bay with a half-interested, half-bemused expression hidden behind his helmet. The HUD painted several hostile targets, mostly interested in maintenance and upkeep, but still kitted with blasters and more than able of putting up a fight. This was not going to be a walk in and fly out scenario. He took a moment to map out his approach- it would take some stealthy movement to get near enough to a ship to fly with minimal resistance. The nearest ship was an X-wing (at least it was something familiar) that had just finished refueling, evinced by the fuel line pulling away.
"Welp, at least I have a ride out," he muttered as he raised his gun and walked in a crouch behind some cargo containers. The funny thing about bases, cargo holds, and generic war affiliated installations was how they all had that tragic design flaw- the cargo was always spaced out in such a way that if someone decided to be sneaky, they could do it. Granted, that was less of an issue with Jedi, since they could use space magic to see people even when they were invisible, barring a few specific instances- it held true here.
"You reckon these Mandalorians actually want us dead?" one of the technicians drawled as he moved to the next ship, prepping the fuel line for servicing. "I hope they just want something, and they'll leave soon."
"The Jedi have counseled us to dig in tight," the other man responded. "We have to assume they're out for blood. Don't expect this to pass too quick."
"Did you hear that big explosion?" the first man persisted. "We're in for some dark times, it sounds like."
"Shut up and concentrate. We have to be ready to scramble for the next batch of pilots. They're up for flight time in less than twenty."
"Fifteen," he corrected. "We're already running diagnostics for them. The first ship already has an astromech on-board."
Well, that's good news.
Alkor had already crept half the way to his escape craft when the first man piped up. "Hey Jack, you think any of them Mandos managed to get this deep in the base?" His eyes scanned the perimeter slowly and the Corellian bit into his lip. Would he have to blow his cover and start a shooting match this early on?
"We'd be dead if they had, Taz." Jack clapped Taz upside the head and patted the broad side of their current snubfighter. "Focus. This program ain't gonna run itself."
Yeah, Taz. Focus.
The Dark Jedi practically sprinted the last ten feet, vaulting into the canopy with dramatized grace. They never heard the transparisteel shut, but the engine cycle more than caught their attention. "Holy CHIT, Jack," Taz bleated, "did you give that Arthree unit authorization to prime for flight?"
"No, Taz," Jack practically yelled over the engine scream, "I DID NOT. SOMEONE IS STEALING THAT X-WING. SHOOT IT."
Blasters fumbled into hand, and two rogue shots blazed past as Alkor flipped through the switches and ran a manual override on the Astromech. "Take a load off," he muttered as he slid an uplink into the terminal and uploaded a scramble code into the droid's databank. It practically roared in protest as it's motivator glitched, and sparks flew from the top of it.
"Did you clip the Astromech?" Taz asked frantically.
"That was an overload, Tazzy. You're a
fething mechanic. You should know these things!"
The X-Wing hovered for a moment before it let out a primal bellow and shot out of the hangar. The two mechanics cursed loudly and exchanged glances.
"Get on the bloody line! Let someone know that thing's hostile!"
"Got it," Taz panicked as he got on his comm and sent out a signal to the Jedi.
Watch out. Friendly X-wing with unfriendly pilot. Take necessary precautions.
********
"God, I hate these helmets." Alkor tossed the buy'ce at his feet and urged the throttle forward, to the left, and then pulled back-
hard.
The small craft lurched, twisted, and turned in a tight Immelmann. Alkor turned over the switch and the S-foils creaked into attack position. The automatic settings on his compensator took the edge off. "Who flies like that?" his face contorted in disgust as he depressed the unit and felt the G-Forces tighten around his chest.
"Much better."
A quick barrage of fire from the main guns flecked across the exterior of the hangar bay- a friendly hail to his two new mechanic friends. It's always nice to say thanks.
"Now..." with a quick bank to the left, Alkor broke away and the X-wing shot upward and out from Aegis Base and prepared for a strafing run.
*********
"Mandalorian Air Forces in combat area, this is Alkor Centaris- transmitting IFP for this X-Wing now. If you shoot me, I will find you, and I will shoot you back."
