Joyriding

[Petra Noll]

WRENCH

ROGUE SQUADRON // FLIGHT OPERATIONS

PETRA NOLL

LIEUTENANT // ROGUE EIGHT // BB-7K "PATCH"

♫ REBEL BRIEFING - JOHN WILLIAMS

LOCATION: PILOT BRIEFING ROOM TIME: VARIES

"...so for the time being you'll be moving to Rogue Thirteen, at least until we get the question of expanding flights to settled with Command. We needed to make space to accommodate a specialized transfer," the senior officer was explaining, consulting his notes on the datapad. "That's Flight C."

Petra stood with her back straight, like a statue, her grey-green eyes narrowing slightly, but otherwise her features remained impassive. "Rogue Flight C is empty, sir. Or rather it was."

"Correct. This is paperwork, Lieutenant. Functionally you'll remain attached to Flight B until the matter is settled in a more permanent basis. Until then you'll fly relief, maybe transport. And our maintenance coordinator suggested that you had some enhancements in mind for B Flight's equipment. You can take some time to talk that over with them."

Noll got the distinct impression that the officer was enjoying this, but she said nothing. Her jaw worked subtly, causing a muscle in her cheek to bulge.

"Any questions?"

"What does fly relief mean?" Petra asked, her voice flat.

"You know. If one of the others is sick or on temporary duty status. You know the equipment, you know the formations, you know the attack patterns. And you'll be well-placed to re-enter Flight B should we get the go-ahead to expand the flight numbers and rework the formations to accommodate."

An understudy? She nearly barked out a laugh, a refusal, and an expletive. Instead she lifted her chin. "Understood. I'll continue to receive my daily orders with Flight B? Muster with them?"

"That's correct, Lieutenant." He scratched his jaw. "Anything else?" Petra answered in the negative. "Dismissed, Lieutenant Noll."

◇

The next morning Noll reported early, ducking into the locker room. She cleared the Rogue Eight locker, moved some of the stuff in it to the Rogue Thirteen locker and threw the rest away. She lifted Patch up with its suction attachment and made it vacuum out the corners, despite its strenuous objections that the suction attachment was for hydraulic fluid in emergencies, not household tasks.

"Now you care about the proper use of your attachments," Petra muttered, finally setting Patch down onto the floor. It made a raspberry noise. She pulled her shirt off over her head and shucked her trousers, then pulled on her flightsuit. "Go empty yourself out and meet me in the hangar."

Petra tidied up the ready room, brewed a fresh pot of coffee and fixed it up before heading for the hangar. Patch trundled along beside her, fairly quivering at the idea of seeing Goblin again, to resume their aborted play session from the afternoon before. "We're early," Petra warned Patch. "So make yourself useful. Get me a full diagnostic scan on my fighter. I want to make sure they did the coolant channel right."

Patch blurted a rude noise, then whirred across the deckplates toward her fighter. "And put back Havelock's spanner! I can hear it rattling around in your chassis," Petra called after the droid, lowering her voice to add, "You overgrown pile of scrap." She watched the droid for a few moments before going to the maintenance desk and beginning to call up the maintenance records for her ship.

FLIGHT RECORD // ACTIVE

INTERACTING WITH

Laito Kestrel • Michael Angellus • Rylen Grace • Devin Virell • Tiberius Rath

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 7
Location: – Naboo Airspace
Assigned Craft: My X-wing or [URL='https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/t-1650-x-wing-striker-squadron-variant.200201/'[My Other One[/URL]
Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Annoyed (Yeah, I know. “What else is new?)
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

There is a saying about a different morning. You have all heard or read it. No, it’s not what you think. Michael woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. This is humiliating.

BRED Was having a great day.
Warble If a droid could be a smug jerk…


Glaring at BRED as he walked around the facility, getting his bearings once again. Not only was he being sent back to the place he left, he’s getting summarily demoted? I guess I have to be at that stupid meeting after all.

Weeep-beep


It’s not that I’m “complaining”... He was grabbing some breakfast.


Weeep-beep


Michael winced at the assertion and “whisper-shouted”.Shut up. I don’t have an ego!


If a droid could “Teehee”, BRED would be doing it right now. Weeep-beep

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED were back on their carrier. They were running a “Post Flight” walk through. So what if I do? Is that so bad?!

Wooo-beep


Why? What makes it so wrong for ME to have an ego?

AUUUUUUU


Ugh…

I don’t care. I’m not gonna be a nice guy. He took a few griddle cakes and devoured them.

Beep-Woop-beep

Oh yeah? Why is that? Why am I going to be such a goody goody?! Michael was getting a little hot under the collar now. He spent hours last night processing the dressing down he got from Admiral Halpern, who sent him here on this exchange program.

Chitter Chitter Chitter


Yes sir. Aye Aye.

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED were back on their carrier. They were running a “Post Flight” walk through. They looked to be doing this at the end of the day. Sometimes I hate it when you’re right!

Chitter Chitter


Not always… just when I’m awake…

AUUUUUUU

The meeting room was dark, save for the light of the single lamp illuminating the table in the center of the room.

TAG: Petra Noll Laito Kestrel Rylen Grace Devin Virell Tiberius Rath

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

 

[Laito Kestrel]

First light came quietly.. Laito had barely made it back to his quarters the night before before exhaustion finally caught him. One moment he'd been staring out beneath the stars, and the next he'd passed out completely.

Somewhere behind him, Rylen Grace had been left with the difficult question of whether it was actually worth going to sleep at all.

Morning came regardless.

He emerged from his quarters already dressed for flight, helmet tucked beneath one arm,
a cup of caf in the other.. Red rolled alongside him, his crimson dome catching the early light.

A low BRrRrrmm sounded from his Astromech
"Morning, Red."

Another rumble.
"Yeahhhp, I slept."

His eyes moved across the hangar. Michael Angellus was already here, looking like he'd woken up on the wrong side of the galaxy, while Devin Virell had the unfortunate task of dealing with whatever mood his former Striker squadmate had brought with him.

Laito shook his head.
"Those two are going to be a problem."

Red gave another low BRrRrrmm.
"I know."

His attention shifted toward Petra Noll 's fighter as he noticed her already working on it.
"Of course she's here early."

Laito checked his chrono.. .First light.

He pulled his gloves tight and started toward his own X-wing.
"Alright, Red. Let's get this thing ready."

The hangar was waking around them now. Whatever happened next, Laito Kestrel intended to be in the cockpit when it did.

 

[Rylen Grace]

Rylen adjusted the apron he wore over his flightsuit. Much to his squad's shock, he was probably the first one awake this morning. He'd only snagged a few hours of sleep the night before. Between the meeting and then punishment duty.

At least he was awake doing something he loved. Almost as much as flying.

Cooking.

Those who knew. Knew. He'd commandeered a not-so-up-to-coded spot in the corner of the hangar where storage was. Nestled between a maze of some crates that had been sitting there for MONTHS. Probably a slight fire hazzard. Something about being a farmboy and the word had spread about his cooking. Didn't take much. No offense to Chef Rizzo.

It was a word-of-mouth thing. Had started with a few. But Kress. The line mosying up to his gutted power converter from an old swoop, bolted beneath a sheet of durasteel disappeared around the next corner of crates. He'd have to salvage another busted engine igniter soon. Two hot plates and a portable heating unit weren't enough.

"Corellian sunrise, over-easy up! Stuffed-choco cloud toast with the berry compote ready!" A glance down at his droid as he checked the chrono. Ah chit. Time for shift. Stuffing some of the cloud toast in his mouth, he snagged a few items and put them in a sack, hurrying out. "Finish what you can Gob and meet me by the ship." His droid razzled something back at him but Rylen was already moving.

There was a collective groan from those still standing in line.

"Dinnae worry, be back tomorrow morning everyone." He smirked.

Absently wiping the chocolate smear from his lips and hurrying toward his ship. The bag of goodies firmly in his hand. Figured he owed his squadmates some good food. Especially if he was wingmaning with Laito Kestrel this a.m. Rounding the corner, he called out to Patch.

"Sorry, Gobs is still working. Petra, Laito, you still hungry? Where the kress is Michael and Devin?"

Petra Noll Laito Kestrel Michael Angellus Devin Virell

 

[Devin Virell]

Rylen Grace Laito Kestrel Michael Angellus Tiberius Rath Petra Noll

"Sorry, Gobs is still working. Petra, Laito, you still hungry? Where the kress is Michael and Devin?"

"Right behind you, hammock boy."

Boots scraped lazily across the deck as dawn bled in. Devin emerged around the nose of an X-wing, water bottle cradled in one hand. Tinted lenses were picking up the slack his eyes refused. The orange flight suit was zipped up a little more than yesterday. His hair looked like it'd lost a fight with gravity and won.

Technically.. he was late. Spiritually, everyone else was early.

Last night vanished somewhere between a pile of credits and a pair of Twi'leks. He remembered winning at cards. Then losing. Then becoming very invested in winning them back. Somewhere after that.. sleep had finally shown up. The evidence remained beneath those shades in the form of bloodshot eyes. A headache was also currently staging a coup.

He was also hungry, and somebody nearby was cooking. That aroma sharpened Devin's foggy focus more than anything else. His gaze dropped toward the mystery sack in Rylen's hand. Intriguing. Very intriguing.

His personal X-wing earned one bored glance. Whatever needed doing had probably been done. And whatever hadn't would surely announce itself eventually. Starfighters were pretty considerate that way. Lights flashed. Sometimes alarms screamed. The occasional fireball. All the things that were impossible to miss. No need to overthink. Everyone knew Devin had made minimum effort his personal philosophy.

He also spotted Noll entrenched in something. Records of some sort, if he had to guess. "Mornin', Noll." Devin made it another half-step before stopping. "Yeah, you've got that very specific 'I'm fine' look."

Attention slid to Laito. He counted each item with a tilt of his water bottle. Helmet, gloves, caf, ship already being inspected. "And you've got that whole dependable pilot thing going on. Dangerous habit." One corner of his mouth lifted. "At least you're committed." That was probably as close to praise as anyone was getting today.

At last, the real priority. Rylen and that life saving sack. Stepping closer to the Mirialan, Devin nodded once toward it. "I need something greasy enough to forgive a few poor decisions." One hand extended, palm up. "Feed me."