Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Speed Never Killed Anyone



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B L A C K M O O N . T R A I N I N G . G R O U N D S
P Y R I A . S Y S T E M
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Frea Sheplin Frea Sheplin
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The labyrinthine canyons of Borleias' moon, known more commonly (and imaginatively) simply as 'Blackmoon' due to the satellite's almost completely pitch black surface, were a daunting site for the inaugural test flight of the new ARC-107 A-Wing Interceptors Vanguard had finally been assigned. In terms of pure maneuverability, in the hands of a skilled pilot, there should be no problem navigating the twisting ravines, narrow volcanic flumes and blind corners. Dancing and gliding through the extinct volcanic fields where a lesser vessel would have struggled. Assuming, of course, that said aforementioned pilot kept the vessel's prodigious speed to a modest minimum.

But, well, where was the fun in that?

"<<You sure you can keep up with me, Two?>>" Qell teased over the comms as she brought her fighter back around for another pass, gradually increasing her velocity until she was overtaking the notoriously competitive Sheplin. They had already completed a cursory run to suss out the course and map out the worst of what it had to offer, even setting managing to to set a decent run time in the process. But even freshly set records were meant to be broken. The K'paur rolled her shoulders and flexed her hands, popping the digit knuckles on her right hand with her thumb in succession as she waited for her the other girl to take the implied bait. Unable to resist needling her a little further. "<<I saw you struggling on that last turn. You're not losing your nerve, right? I think we can still get you back in an X-Wing if that's more your speed.>>"

There was a beat of electric static before her smile became almost audible.

"<<Or maybe even see if Lead can dust off one of those Y-Wings, having you flying around in style, bringing up the rear as always.>>"

Without waiting for a further response, as if already hearing the predictable and indignant comeback from the former racer, Qell twisted and dipped out for formation. Engines screaming in protest almost as loudly as her droid as she tore through the first checkpoint. Dashboard already lighting up with impending collision warnings, flashing on and off as they were abruptly silenced and reactivated in quick succession as she began to weave through the narrow curves that would lead to the large canyon opening that served as the first leg of the course. Beyond that another warren of crushing corners and tight twists. For now, however, she could let the interceptor truly shine and open up the throttle to maximum effect.

 
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Qell Auraeli Qell Auraeli

Heart still thumping at the cage trying to break free, eyes still operating three corners ahead. The exhilarating pulse of adrenaline coursing through her veins started to simmer down from the joyride that had taken her through one of the first truest tests of her skills.

Command was most likely listening in, and Qell was most likely well-aware of this. That challenge, the inexplicably taunting and unheard laughter between each message out of Niner’s mouth was more than enough to trigger the fire in Frea’s eyes. Her pride inflated, swollen from the perceived loss she hadn’t even known she had just experienced in a race she hadn’t known she was part of.

Her hand placed itself against the throttle with a daring tickle. Her nerves told her no but her heart and mind told her otherwise. In an almost synchronized move they both broke out of formation, their engines roaring for more as the adrenaline pump began to work overtime again.

“At least I have a rear to brag about, Queen-Bee.”
She exclaimed in a far too enthusiastic laughter.
“Try to keep up.”


Ashes dusted off from the ground below as imminent collision warnings shrieked in a harmonic cacophony of noise and ecstasy. There had never been any doubt in Frea’s mind that her head wasn’t wired properly, but she liked to think that such a thing made out the cornerstone of what made her into the pilot that she was.

The throttle was dialed back, brakes working to dampen the velocity of a ship taken far beyond its optimal speed on such a tight and confined course. It was all in the control, the belief and understanding that you were the machine and that the machine by extension was a part of you. It was to feel the ship shriek like the companion droid that had been forced into this impromptu race and feel the ship bask in the relief of the solar winds as you take off from another near-crash turn.

X-Wing. Who the hell did Qellian think she was? Frea was number two because they knew she was gunning for the top spot, saw her potential for it despite the reprimands of unsafe techniques. Not that she had taken them to heart. They worked, didn’t they? They sure seemed to in this little course they set up.

Up ahead was the dip into a small cavern. Frea ran the obstacles through her mind. Down, up, left, hug the wall and loop around in order to come out from the top and keep accelerating. Mind your speed without losing too much of it. That rumble in her gut, whether it was hunger or excitement, tickled all too well in her stomach.

It was good to be alive.
 
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