Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

She circulated through the vast ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with the many of the same guests who had been present at the previous gala of Tarsk Mal’fey’s of which she’d also been in attendance. Stopping now and then to confer with the Jedi Master at her side in a low voice whenever they could find a more private space.

“This is going to be an uphill battle you know” She said to Ranzen.

The tall Jedi looked around the room at the dignitaries availing themselves of Tarsk Mal’fey’s generous hospitality, an almost bemused expression on his handsome face.

“The CEO of one of the largest shipping concerns in the galaxy would be expected to  have so many influential acquaintances. Nothing unusual about that.” Val could have sworn his normally serious face was bearing a smirk as he said this.

“But I am more interested in how many of these stellar citizens of the New Republic are actually guests of the suspected head of a criminal enterprise.” She  replied with a more obvious smirk of her own.

“Are you sure you don’t have any force sensitivity, Agent Navin?” The Jedi leaned closer, “Because you seem to be reading my own thoughts rather well this evening.”

Val laughed lightly and placed a hand on Ranzen’s arm. “We just both have a better time at understanding and wanting the truth uncovered.”

“That my dear” He replied, “Is going to be the hard part, but in time the truth always outs.”

She was about to tell him something to the effect of time being a luxury their friends did not have when she felt a discreet tap on her shoulder.

“Agent Navin?” A tall man, dark blonde hair cut military short and dressed in unadorned formalwear went on after Val nodded her head. “Pardon me for the interruption, but my employer wishes to speak with you.”

“Your employer?”  Val asked, curiosity piqued. Could this be a lead form someone with real information or more getting the run around from Mal’fey’s supporters? She and Master Ranzen seemed to be getting more of the latter this evening.

“Yes, Major. Miss Ventyra asked that I find you so she may let you know she wishes to speak with you this evening.” The bodyguard replied, looking across the room in the direction where he had last seen Tyanni and her fellow pilot.

The intelligence agent followed his gaze, catching sight of the young heiress through a momentary break in the party crowd before she turned her attention back to her escort for the evening.

Already tiring of the exercise in futility running around speaking to the party guests this evening seemed to becoming, she started to tell the bodyguard that Miss Ventyra could reach her at her office if she had something of importance to report, but Ranzen placed a hand on her shoulder before she could finish her rejection.

“Go on.” Ranzen nodded with a smile, “Maybe the young lady has some new insight on what happened with her CO and XO. “I myself am going to speak with some of our esteemed cabinet members I have a passing acquaintance with.”  He excused himself and headed in the direction of a small knot of elaborately dressed party guests by the nearest window.

Val turned back toward the suited man, “Lead the..” but he was already nearly halfway across the room as she followed, her mind on what it could be that one of the newest Rogue Squadron recruits could want to see her about.  She had already gone over the statements given by all of those involved in the Vjun mission and those present during events previous to it taking place.

The debriefing reports were all consistent and in some cases maddeningly non-useful. Maybe there was something the pilot remembered now that she had forgotten to put in her official statement.  Val sighed.  If that were the case she’d still need to get the young woman to come in and give another one on the record.  Just being told at a party was not going to hold much credence in an investigation.

Of course her routine journey across the penthouse ballroom couldn’t go without interruption from some person or the other who recognized her and wanted to have a few words.  Most of them inquiring about the investigation and if she had to tell one more guest it was still open and therefore classified she’d scream.

When she finally reached her destination the Ventyra Industries heiress was holding court.  Young men from just as influential families competing subtly to see who could impress the young woman more as the same bodyguard she’d sent to summon Navin stood nearby at a discrete yet watchful distance.

The girl was obviously in her element. Flirting with the boys vying for her attention. Her regal bearing much more at home in a setting like this than in the cockpit of a fighter.

Her companion though appeared just the opposite. Flight Officer Mela Roch’s gown was just as stunning and expensive as the one Tyanni wore, but her martial posture and slight scowl let everyone in the room know she would much rather be grubbing about in a flightsuit or pilot uniform or anything but fancy dress.

The thought made Val smile in sympathetic understanding.

“Ah, Agent Navin.” Tyanni said with a smile of her own as Val approached, “Thank you very much for giving me a few moments of your time.” The girl added with that attitude typical to people of her class and upbringing. If you wanted something you expected it to be granted, no questions asked.

“Miss Roch you look lovely this evening.” She addressed Mela first, “And about as thrilled to be here as I am.”  Val added in a stage whisper.

“Thanks, Major” The pilot cracked a half-smile. “That easy to tell huh?”

“Don’t worry, at least I hear your sabaac face is much better” Val replied before turning her attention back to Tyanni. “What was it you wanted to see me about, Miss Ventyra?”

Tyanni glanced around at her assembled admirers, “Would you gentleman excuse us for a moment please? I promise each of you a dance before the evening is over.” She gave them a dazzling smile as the young men dissipated throughout the party.

“We were just wondering if there was any news about our Captain and the others?”  The young woman asked with hopeful eyes.

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say with the investigation being still ongoing.” Val found herself repeating for the umpteenth time that evening. “But I can promise you we are doing everything possible to get to the truth.” She added, starting to feel like a broken datadisc.  

“If there is anything at all we can do to help…” Tyanni offered.

Val’s eyes went to the gathering of partygoers behind her almost subconsciously. “Just keep your ears open and contact me at my office if you should happen to hear anything that may be impor…”

Before she could finish the small datapad she’d carried went off alerting her of an incoming call.  At seeing the numeric code of the caller she frowned and uttered a brief curse.  “I’m sorry Flight Officers I need to go and answer this call.  Please excuse me.”

She looked around the room trying to spot Ranzen, but he was nowhere within sight.  “Frak!’ She grumbled heading for the nearest exit with an angry stride that didn’t slow until she reached the turbolift at the end of the corridor.   She thought about ignoring the summons from her commanding officer, but the tone of the message he’d sent made if more than clear there was no room for argument.  Cursing to herself she hailed a passing passing speedertaxi.  

“Government Plaza.” She told the driver as he turned to ask her destination.  “There’s an extra 20 credits in it for you if you get me there in ten minutes or less.”  

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the vehicle sped off, accelerating hard enough to snap her back against the seat and almost erase the frown from her face.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

In orbit around Coruscant were a number of star docks and repair yards, both military and civilian. While not as extensive as the facilities encircling Kuat, Coruscant’s deepdocks were more than capable of handling the largest warships and starliners in use by the New Republic.

The Mon Cal cruiser Vindicator occupied one of those deepdocks, repairs to the ship already beginning following the mauling she received at Vjun. Dozens of manned and droid-controlled repair vessels flitted about the ship, giving the impression that the cruiser was some wounded beast being fed upon by carrion. Nothing could be further from the truth as the New Republic’s maintenance crews were instead working wonders, raising an all but dead ship and restoring the Vindicataor to her proper place in the battleline.

A convoy of transports and barges approached the repair yard, carrying rawmat and prefab components that would be utilized in the Vindicator’s reconstruction. One of those ships in the convoy was a BR-23 shuttle, and it  broke out of line to make fast to one of the cruiser’s few operating docking rings. Rather than material though, the shuttle carried only three passengers: Abiik Verd, Enzo Dan Danga, and Gavin Thayer.

The trip upside–this was their second one that day–had been long and tedious, the progress of the convoy dictated by the speed of the slowest ship and the amount of traffic in Coruscant’s orbital pattern. Abiik–sitting straight up, spine never touching the back of his seat–spent the time meditating. Gavin slouched in his seat, motionless, saying nothing. Enzo, in a seat facing the small Corellian, tried to amuse himself by balancing his flight helmet on the tip of his snout.

A sudden jolt indicated that the shuttle made a positive lock, and was significantly jarring enough to knock Enzo’s helmet off his snout and onto the deck. “Two hundred sixteen seconds, Enzo,” Gavin observed as he picked up the helmet and handed it to his Gungan comrade. “You didn’t break the record.”

“Yousa no sayins yousa countin.”

“Two hundred eighteen seconds, according to my calculations,” Abiik commented as the Mandalorian unbuckled his acceleration straps and rose. “But ner vod is correct; you didn’t break the record.”

“Yousa no tell meesa go for record!” Enzo protested as Gavin and Abiik made their way to the shuttle’s access hatch. “Deesa garbareeno!”

Gavin was the first to exit the shuttle, and as he set foot on the cruiser’s deck –following eons of tradition and his own training at Anaxes Citadel– the Corellian faced aft and snapped off a precise salute. “Ensign Thayer, reporting aboard.”

Abiik, having donned his T-visored Mandalorian helmet, followed Gavin off the shuttle. Following his own culture’s protocols, Abiik faced the Petty Officer of the Watch, nodded slightly and growled a terse “Su’cuy.”

Enzo, exiting the shuttle last, did the same as Gavin though he brought his arm across his chest in salute. Turning to face the petty officer, Enzo announced “Mesa you humbule servant!” The petty officer tried not to look bored; this was the second time today he was going through this.

Now aboard, the three pilots made their way to the Vindicator’s docking bay, a roundabout trip through the ship caused by battle damage and the ongoing repairs. Gavin didn’t attract any attention, appearing as a not quite so typical (they weren’t so youthful looking, and a lot taller) New Republic fighter jockey, but Abiik and Enzo drew quite the double-takes, even the second time around. You didn’t have a Mandalorian and a Gungan strolling about everyday now, did you?

The Rogues’ last three X-wings were already spotted and being readied for launch in the Vindicator’s  hangar bay. On their first trip planetside, Gavin, Enzo, and Abiik flew Cyan’s, Han’s, and Tyanni’s damaged X-wings back to the squadron’s hangar. Enzo’s own assigned X-wing had been written off; in spite of Chief Midanyl’s best efforts, the female mechanic ended up deeming the fighter ‘ready for the scrap heap.’ With Enzo’s astromech droid fitted in the socket normally occupied by Blip, the trio lifted off the Vindicator in a Vee formation and found themselves placed in a medium priority landing clearance despite the condition of their ships. Three times they orbited Coruscant before traffic control cleared them for reentry, and for the whole journey, Silver and Flare peppered Abiik–of all the beings in the galaxy –incessantly with questions about Corran, Sam, Han, and Marcus. The droids’ inquiries were obviously based on the more lurid headlines popping up all over the Holonet, leading the Mandalorian to exclaim “Osik! Since when did our beskar’ad become cyar’tomade of this sleemo journalism?”

Hopefully, this trip will be much faster and a lot quieter Gavin prayed as he clambered into the cockpit of his own X-wing–pausing to lovingly pat the fighter’s fuselage– to conduct final preflight checks. R6-D7 warbled and whistled what the Corellian took to be a greeting as his command of droidspeak was still somewhat shaky. “Hi, R6! I’m glad to see you too.”

The dialog screen in the cockpit immediately came to life, and the words that appeared showed that Gavin was way off base in his assumption.Greetings to you as well , Ensign Thayer, but that was not the substance of the interrogative I conveyed. I merely wanted to know if it is factual that Captain Antilles is the mastermind of an illegal canoid fighting ring?  R6 followed up: If it’s on the Holonet, it must be true, correct?

Gavin groaned and slumped in his seat. The young pilot could just imagine the sight: All of the Rogue Squadron astromech droids– one scomp linked into a computer terminal, the rest datalinked in a chain–chirping and warbling away as they disseminated the slander spewed by the creatures inhabiting Column Commons. “Look R6, I don’t know what the frell you’ve been reading, but this is The Celestials’ truth: Captain Antilles likes dogs. Now why don’t you do something useful and get me some important information, like the score of the Dreadnaughts game?”

Nine to zero, Dreadnaughts trailing the Ralltir Tigers, top of the first rung.

“What?!?” was all Gavin could bleat in despair.

“I say again; Rogue Eleven, is cleared for launch. Vindicator  Flight Control instructs X-wing pilot to employ proper terminology when in communication with this station.”

“I copy, Vindicator. Rogue Eleven out.”

Closing the clamshell canopy of his fighter, Gavin proceeded to power up the X-wing’s quad thrusters. The hangar of the Mon Cal cruiser filled with a roar as Enzo and Abiik did the same with their ships. Gavin first gave a thumbs-up signal to the Mandalorian, receiving one in return, then to Enzo. The Gungan would be piloting Corran’s ship back to the surface, and Blip, Han's astromech droid, would be riding along in the socket this journey. The jumbling of X-wing, pilot, and droid didn't look to be a problem–Corran’s X-wing was in topnotch condition due to Chief Midanyl ensuring that his and Abiik’s X-wings were stored in an armored revetment during the Battle of Vjun, protecting the ships from damage when an on-board explosion had savaged the Vindicator’s hangar bay. Also, the on-board 'puter of Corran's ship was pleased to have Blip as the astromech droid, the R2 unit reassuring Enzo with several confident sounding chirps. The Gungan pilot signaled his readiness to Gavin and Abiik, and the three X-wings began to exit the cruiser’s hangar.

Control at this point was automated, tractor beams moving the ships through the containment field at the end of the bay. Once clear, the pilots switched to manual control, the fighters winging their way down toward the surface of Coruscant.

“Coruscant Traffic Control, this is Rogue Flight,” Gavin announced. “Request clearance for atmospheric reentry.”

“Copy, Rogue Flight. Direct ships to reentry lane Besh-Osk-Senth-Senth-three-five-one, Priority Cresh.”

“Copy, Coruscant Traffic Control, Rogue Flight out.”

Gavin sighed. Another medium priority landing clearance. It was painfully obvious that Enzo’s remark, ‘Sumbuddy down dere nosa like weesa.’ rang true. Switching com channels, the Corellian raised Enzo and Abiik. “Sit tight chumanis, were in the waiting line again.”


Luckily, the Rogues were required to do only two orbits of Coruscant before they were cleared for reentry. Once given the authorization, the three pilots shifted their formation from a Vee to en echelon, then executed a half-roll that put each fighter into a shallow dive, the X-wings peeling off one by one in precisely timed intervals. Reaching a lower part of the planet’s atmosphere, the three ships leveled off, and once again forming up in a Vee, began the approach flight to the Rogues’ base of operations.

Twin contrails streamed from the wingtips of the X-wings–the flight was accomplished with the S-foils merged, rather than in the attack position that was so familiar to trillions of the galaxy’s residents–signaling to Gavin that it was another frigid night on the planet that his family called home for some six years now. The young Corellian was easily able to identify the various districts of Coruscant as his ship descended: The Factory District, with massive smelters, blast furnaces, and flaring refinery stacks that rivaled some of the tallest building in Galactic City; a large dark area, incongruous on the glittering planet but marking the broad expanse of the Great Western Sea; a riotous kaleidoscope of color just ahead could only be the Calocour Heights. And shining like a jewel, haloed by spotbeams that  shone directly into the skies, was the Imperial Palace.

“Abiik, Enzo, prepare for landing. Switch to automated control.”

Landing would be the reverse of that of the Vindicator:  The X-wings would fly into a tractor field and be reeled in through an opening in the ray and particle shields (always raised to keep enemies from sneaking up and firing into the Rogues hangar) and onto the landing grid. A repulsor tug would then lock onto the X-wing’s front landing skid, and tow it to the appropriate hardstand within the hangar.

Gavin sighed tiredly  as he felt the familiar thump  signifying that a repulsor tractor had clamped onto his ship. The young pilot initiated shut down procedures for the craft, then popped open the canopy of the X-wing to enjoy the night air.

“Frinkin’ brrrrr, R6!” Gavin exclaimed. “It’s freezin’ out here!” The little droid didn’t respond, too busy trying to remove ice that had formed on his photoreceptor lens.

Enzo was the first out of his cockpit. “Oie boie!” he exclaimed, stretching his arms and extending his hailus, “dissa da longo day!”

Gavin grinned back at him. “Then I suggest you head right on back to where you staying and hit the sack. We have to be back here tomorrow, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at O-dark thirty. You’re going to end up thinking today was a cakewalk, Enzo.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The initial meeting went well enough, with a satisfactory outcome. While he often regretted making such a first impression in such a manner, he tended to believe that his need for caution and preparation were directly related to his having survived so long. But, all things aside, Brek seemed willing to go through the process - and the fact he didn't appear to be overly uncomfortable or operating under a time frame helped Jate feel (slightly) more at ease. As soon as the pair were in agreement, and consequently leaving the apartment, the Corellian stepped through the door behind his new companion before closing it and putting his blaster back into its holster.

While the blaster gave the impression of safety, in truth Jate was close enough to do enough damage with his hands, should the situation require it - which wasn't to say the other being looked helpless, by any means.

The walk out of the building, the wait for the speeder and the long drive to the next point of interest remained largely uneventful. Jate kept to himself, keeping one eye on any potential shadows, while also maintaining a constant scrutiny on Brek. He still didn't have the Corellian's trust, nor would he have it fully at any point to be truthful (Jate never fully trusted anyone in his line of work), but so far it remained Brek had to prove that he and Jate could work together well enough on the situation at hand.

As the speeder weaved through low traffic lanes, Jate couldn't help but feel that the next place the pair visited was going to be quite the dive. In fact, the Corellian could almost taste the stench of smoke and alcohol already, if outward surroundings were anything to go by.

But, looks could be deceiving, and until there was fact, anything was possible.

"So, what kind of welcome do you expect, Brek?" Jate said, looking out the window as he watched a passing speeder. He felt he knew the kind of being they were going to meet, and if making small talk eased some of the tension in the speeder, so much the better. "I assume we're going to meet a information broker. Anything I should know about before the fact?"

Last thing Jate wanted was to be duped and be forced to fight his way out of a sticky situation. He didn't bother asking if whomever they were meeting was trustworthy, because on Coruscant those individuals were few and far between.

"We don't need any unnecessary attention right now… but I'm guessing you already knew that."

Which was true enough; Brek didn't seem like the dull sort, which made him that much more dangerous for the moment.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

There was no delay in crafting a quick escape from the boarding platform. Between the public brawl and the sudden turbulence, the situation on the surface was unyieldingly erratic. The cause of all this commotion now leaned casually against a nearby column, bouncing a red ball against an another one across from him. This ball was far beyond a simple keepsake. It had entertained him through his childhood and served as a perfect tool for knocking over, propping open, unlocking, distracting, and generally annoying anything and anyone around him. It had since become faded and discolored… a worn-out treasure of Sison's past. In fact, he had noticed lately that it had developed a bit of a curve in its bounce.

'Perhaps it was from the I used it to plug that swoop's exhaust pipe.' Sison thought silently. 'That or the 1647 days I spent in jail bouncing it against a wall.' Could've been a nice way to escape. Make a hole and run for freedom.

In truth, all of Sison's heroics with the simple toy had undoubtedly worn it down. He reached his arm out, catching the ball at the top of its arc. Sison had been watching medical officers, and shuttle personnel cycle in and out of the shuttle area for hte past 15 minutes. His main concern, however, was with the Zabrak who had scuffled with him on the ship. It hadn't been the man's attitude that sparked the conflict… not his tone or just general essence. It wasn't even the fact that he had ruined a perfectly good game of "bounce the ball". What it was, was the small, black, half-inch tattoo behind his right ear. Sison had recalled seeing that same insignia only once before: right before he was duped and arrested. Gavin Marcus, the bastard that he was, had the exact same insignia near his shoulder. Hardly a coincidence, but a lead nonetheless.

Picking a fight with the criminal was only the first step. It established the man's fighting prowess and gave Sison a closer look at how many men he had with him. The turbulence, although unplanned, served as a wonderful diversion and path towards escape. Success always came at the oddest times. Sison watched closely as the Zabrak received medical care from a nurse. His two friends stood closely by, scanning the crowds. Sison figured they were looking for him. Three against one would be a fun fight. The Zabrak would be an easy target. Sison had guaged this off of the fact that he had spent the last ten minutes watching sa the Zabrak explained to the nurse how he fell during turbulence and hit his nose on the edge of the seat. A very likely story.

Once he had finished his medical fibbery, Sison dislodged from his vantage point to tail him and his buddies deeper into Coruscant. It was unlikely that they would lead him directly to where he needed to go, but if he could get them alone… he'd be able to find a more "efficient" means of getting the information. For now, the game was about staying invisible until the time was right. The possibilty of finding out what happened to his ship, weapons, and peace of mind were near.

Sison followed the targets towards Coruscant's lower districts. Dusk had since fallen and the streets had begun to become littered with scattered groups, drunks, and other vagrants of the night. The low-light and high population made tailing the thugs a cake walk. From the muffled tones of their conversation, Sison estimated that they were razzing the Zabrak about his incident on the shuttle. Although smaller, the other two lackeys dressed in a similar fashion. From his distance in the crowd, Sison couldn't make out any kind of similar tattoos or markings.

Several blocks deeper into Coruscant, the trio ducked into what Sison assumed must be a cantina. With all the swoop bike sand scantily clad women decorating the outsides it was either that or a place of a more naked nature. Sison was willing to take his chances and followed suit. From his back pocket he produced a black knit beanie which he pulled over his head. Parting his hair from his eyes, he stepped into the dimly lit cantina. The men he was tailing had not yet settled at a booth, instead lounging at the counter.

Sison situated himself in an opening further down the counter where it began to bend. One of the bartenders spotted him and raised an eyebrow… a bartenders way of asking "Need anything?" Sison waved his hand in dismissal and lowered his gaze, straining his ears to hear their conversation of their din and music of his surroundings. Their jovial laughter travelled deeper into the cantina, and without having to look he knew that they had begun to make their way towards the back booths. Sison took the oppurtunity to slip into their empty space at the bar and attempted to the get bartenders attention. He drummed his fingers on the countertop and spoke softly.

"Excuse me…? What was that drink they just ordered?" Sison looked around awkwardly. "Looked delicious."

The bartender stayed with his back to Sison, obviously busy with something on the counter below. He had heard Sison. "Why so curious?" he asked.

Sison opened his mouth to reply but realized there was no good way to answer that. The drink in question was of a… feminine nature. A Nabooinian blended drink called a Valley View. These men ceased to surprise him. "I'll… uh. Have one of the same." The words sounded forced and weird in coming out of his mouth. Sison secretly wished that they had ordered something that would get them a little bit drunker, but he admired their courage for drinking what they currently were. He checked over his shoulder at their booth to make sure they had stayed put. The glasses were all about half empty, the second round would be soon.

"What could possibly make you want to drink that? Thought you had better tastes, Sison."

The mention of his name caused several reactions in Sison's body. He spun his head around nearly fast enough to break it, and grasped the hilt of his blaster near his hip. All instinctively, of course. He stopped, however, as soon as he recognized the familiar face of the man turning to him. This man he remembered.

"Long time no see, brother," the man said, smiling. Even his moustache smiled. The two embraced hands, and clinked the two mugs that the man had set before them.

"You scared the living hell out of me, Pip."

Pip chuckled a bit, the corners of his moustache turning up and laughing with him. "I'd have freaked me out too," he said with a wink. "On a tail, are you? You're usually this edgy with that sort of stuff."

Sison slammed his mug down. "I am not some chuba tosser, Pip. I'm Sison frakkin' Cairo. I don't get edgy." He smoothed out the arm of his jacket before bringing his mug gruffly to his lips and gulping down his Tatooine Sunburn. "What are the chances I'd find you here? You're talking to me about bad taste, what the hell are you doing working in a pit like this, man?" Pip looked over Sison's shoulder at the booth.

"I'll tell ya later. You've got incoming," he muttered under his breath.

He didn't have to look behind him to know what that meant. Quickly, Sison pulled out his datapad, tapping keys dexteriously.

Pip leaned in closer and began to talk fast. "That there is Huxley. He works with the Black Sun. I suggest you don't get it in with them." Sison paused and looked up at Pip. "I'm just saying…" Chances were, in any region of space worth a damn, the majority of criminal activities in those areas could eventually be traced back to the Black Sun. It was like six degrees of seperation, but with extortion, bribery, murders, and other extraneous criminal activities.

Sison pushed a final button on the datapad and pocketed it in his coat. "Pip. I need to ask you a favor," he began. "I need you to call Dizz, and tell her that I'm back and I need her cruiser behind this cantina in 10 minutes. You can reach her, yeah?" Pip nodded slightly. Sison glanced behind him to survey their proximity. They had been held up by another table in conversation. Lucky. But time was still running out.

Pip pulled out his comlink. "Is everything ok?"

Sison stood up from his stool and extended his hand. "It's about to be."

Pip grabbed his hand and firmly shook it. "Here they come."

Sison adjusted the beanie on his head and spoke quickly. "Pip. I transferred 10,000 credits to your account, ok?"

The bartender was speechless. He couldn't fathom why. "Wh– What for?" he stuttered.

"For your bathroom."

The thugs were only feet away now. Sison could almost smell the fruity aroma from their drinks.

"My bathroom? What are you– Sison. What are you doing?" Pip called out, quickly catching Sison's motives.

"Setting the bait. I'll be in touch," he said turning to go the other direction. "Call Dizz!" he shouted over his shoulder.

In one fluid motion, he slid between Huxley and one of his cronies, careful not to expose his face. It wasn't until the zabrak and his companions had reached the bar that he saw it. The familiarity gave him a sudden slap to the face and Huxley spun around, fuming.

Fuming because resting on the counter… was a red bouncy ball.

Huxley grabbed Pip by his collar, dragging him over the counter to his waste. "Where did he go?" Huxley growled through gritted teeth. Pip raised his arm gingerly.

"Bathrooms…" Huxley released his collar, dropping Pip hard against the wood counter. Rushing through the crowd, they bumped hard into a waitress, knocking her and her drinks to the floor. His men followed like dogs, eager to fight. Pip buzzed his comm to life, setting it to the proper frequency.

"Dizz… it's Pip. You read me?"

Over the horizon of heads, Pip saw the three syndicate members disappear through the door of the restrooms.

The comm sputtered to life. "kshshshskksh…. This is Dizz. What's new, Pip?" voiced Dizz from the other end.

"He's back…"

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Despite the situation Ronan Antilles had to grin about the look his wife was giving him.  “Why have you been so formal to the poor girl, Chiara. Wasn’t it that you always wanted to become acquainted to Corran’s girlfriends? So now you had a chance finally.” Chiara narrowed her eyes even more. “That wasn’t what I had in mind. And it’s not the right time to joke around.”

Ronan sighed. “I know, Chiara, I know. I just didn’t want that you vent your wrath about Corran on her. I know that you’re mad that he brought himself into this situation.”  Chiara crossed her arms, walking away from him to look out of the panorama window, overlooking their garden. Knowing his wife, Ronan waited some minutes, giving her a chance to control her temper, before he followed her.

“I always knew that it was wrong that he left Corellia. If Corran would have stayed, where he belonged…” Before Chiara could finish the sentence, Ronan did that for her. “… he would have been unhappy. “  He put an arm around her shoulders to calm her. “He wanted something different. And after all if everybody would stay were they <i>belonged</i>, I never would have met you. Even if your father would have preferred that.“

A small smile played on Chiara’s lips due to the memories, but she concentrated on the now and here. “Well, most of the times our grandson got into trouble were when he tried to help others. “ She remarked. Ronan nodded. “And then in addition he can be very stubborn, when he thinks that he’s doing the right thing. “ He glanced at his wife, adding. “No idea where he has that from…”

Chiara ignored his comment. “So having the knowledge about his weak points, somebody could use them against him. But why? Who would accuse him?“ Ronan frowned. “Maybe…” he started, thinking of all the corrupt intelligence agents and power-hungry politicians he had met while he was working for CorSec. “… it is like repeating history. Back then Palpatine discredited the Jedi to weaken the Republic. And now… whoever is behind that… is using Rogue Squadron. I’m fearing the worst that our grandchildren stumbled into something really big.”

Ronan walked back to their com-station. “We better get the best lawyer we know for them.” He began to look through the list of his contacts. “Here he is… “

***

Rafe Telarna wasn’t surprised about the call of his old friend. “Ronan, I expected you.” He answered with a genuine smile. They knew each other since many decades as Telarna had been still an ambitious young district attorney in Coronet City. Now working for the New Republic’s JAG corps as senior judge advocate Rafe was aware, that this was no simple chat between friends. Ronan’s and Chiara’s grandson had been on all news channels of Coruscant and the rest of the Republic. And there was no other topic of conversations in the halls of the JAG building than the alleged treason of Rogue Squadron’s commanding and executive officers.

“If you expected it, you know why we call.” Ronan said without further ado. Telarna nodded. “Your grandson is in big poodoo, I can tell you. Even I would believe in the evidences, if I wouldn’t know your family since so long.“ He leant back in his chair. “I’ll bring my influence to bear so that I’ll be his solicitor.  That will include his XO as well.”

“And Samantha Koortyn.” Chiara interjected, appearing next to her husband. Telarna looked confused. “The charges against her are a little different, but I’ll do my best.” Chiara smiled grimly at him. “I know, you will. That’s why we called you.“ She paused a moment. “We have our personal reasons that we want her acquitted as well.”

Telarna raised an eyebrow. “Well, tell me. The more I know, the better for the defense.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Mela sighed and looked around at the party guests. She didn't recognize anyone, but she didn't follow politics, and these looked like beings which could buy and sell politicians with pocket change. Industrialists, mostly. She managed to affect an outwardly cheerful face, honored to be in the presence of such august individuals. Mela made a valiant effort and kept the mental sneer off of her face. The wealth dripping from the fingers and the throats of these elites could buy enough X-wings to keep the Rogues flying for the next ten years.

She sighed and looked around at the industrialists. She'd allowed that aristocrat who'd been foisted on the squadron to con her into attending this party in the hopes of freeing the Rogues whom the government had locked up in a cell somewhere on Coruscant.

She looked around at the party, still feeling awkward and out of place when someone caught her eye. She didn't recognize the person, but assumed that he ran something important.

He smiled at her and brought over two glasses of something that she recognized as a Tatooine Yagbitter. The man smiled at her and handed her one.

“If I could have a minute of your time,” he paused. “If memory serves, you are Flight Officer Roch, acting commander of Rogue Squadron.”

Mela nodded. “It's not a big secret since most of the squadron got hauled off to a secret prison somewhere.”

“And woe to our Republic for that,” the man stated. “People shouldn't be locked up in secret prisons.”

Mela managed to catch herself before she nodded vigorously at the man's statement. Can't be too careful here, she thought, who knows who's going to stab us in the back next. She looked at the man and nodded, cautiously expressing her agreement. She still felt certain she hadn't done anything in gross violation of the rules, but she'd started to skate dangerously close, and wouldn't that make a reporter's day. She had no desire to be a headline, especially that headline. Despite herself, though, she found herself nodding in agreement with the man.

“I could help,” the man told her.

She shook her head. “No, I trust in the New Republic. The justice system will won't fail. The truth about my commander's innocence will come out.” I hope that's true. If it isn't… She struggled to leave the thought unfinished. She couldn't do that. And yet, she found she could. The temptation loomed. In that instant, destiny split before her. She could choose to take the man up on his offer, and doom the galaxy to an endless round of war, or she could allow the sacrifice of a few (relatively) innocent people to allow the Republic to survive. She glanced around, spotting a server droid with a carrying a tray of drinks, and headed in that direction.

She stood by herself, nursing—carefully–a goblet of wine. Mela didn't recognize the vintage and the subtleties of the fine wine eluded her, however, she had no doubt that single goblet of wine cost more than she made in a month. Idly, the pilot swirled the wine around in the goblet and frowned at the liquid, wishing she could desert high society —it's obtuse political games– and go back into space where you knew your enemies by their uniforms and their laser blasts on your shields.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The Red Rancor

The cantina was bright red, smoke-filled and was filled with all sorts of unusual beings drinking unusual beverages. Far be it for Jate to judge an establishment solely on appearance, but it was hard to take such a gaudy, practically cliche, cantina seriously. But that didn't matter; he had a job to do, then he could make sure to avoid the Rancor forever in the future.

"Tanner Vance, eh?" Said the human opposite Jate, his double chin waggling as he chuckled. "I've heard 'bout you. Some kind of security guy, right?"

"Right," Jate said, regarding Chiv the informant with equal measures of disgust and caution. He didn't want to let his guard down now, especially not when around the large, overweight sentient before him. "Brek here said he knew someone who could help me, for the right price, so here we are."

"Indeed, indeed," Chiv warbled, his grubby fingers wrapping around a cold glass in front of him, before he took a series of mouthfuls. Jate ignored the spittle that dribbled from the corners of the man's mouth. "Thanks for the contact, Brek. I'll be in touch."

The alien nodded, before standing and walking away.

"So, what can I do for ya, Vance? You need someone killed, maimed or found? I offer a discount on thug hire if you're interested…"

"No, nothing like that," Jate said, leaning forward as the pair got down to business. "I need information on the most exploitable, dirty guard of the Republic prison facility holding those recently imprisoned pilots. Rogue Squadron members."

Chiv nodded, his fat rolling. "I see, I see. I can do that. How much you offering, security man? Because, ya know, the amount paid will determine the amount found… it's a very good exchange rate, after all, what with the planet economy and all…"

Jate grunted, catching a Wookiee watching at him from across the room.

"I'll give you three-thousand Republic credits as a base price," Jate said after a moment, deciding it best to conclude his deal and be gone. He was certain he recognized the Wook from the public transport and didn't feel like getting into another confrontation - not without guards to throw their weight around, anyway. "The more you find on a target, which I decide is relevant, will add another one-hundred credits per addition."

Chiv smiled, nodding as he held out his hand. "We have a deal, security man."

Jate looked down to the outstretched meat bunch, noticing the grime and plastered dirt, before he reached out and shook.

"A deal."

"You'll hear from me soon, Tanner. I'll be in touch."


Jate looked down at the holopad he had been given. Chiv had done his work, much to his credit, quickly and well. Now the Corellian had information on a certain individual whom had suspected ties to illegal selling of NR property from the facility in which he worked - suspected by the Republic, that was, whereas Chiv had been able to find the buyer's records and thus prove the under-the-desk dealings.

That guard would be Jate's way in to see Corran and his friends.

Standing out the front of the Republic building in question, Jate went over the information for the last time. From this point onward he had to provide a very convincing case against the guard and make him see the reasons why he should slip Jate into the cell area for a quick meeting - and considering Jate didn't fall into the category of family member, Government advisor or facility guard, it meant he had to rely on other methods.

Such as blackmail.

Jate had changed his attire, now wearing a relatively nice suit made of nexus hide. He had even shaved, slicking back his hair and assuming a role that was far from his typical self. A lot of his work had revolved around providing a convincing persona that gave the intended impression for a desired result.

Stepping up to the front desk, having reached the more 'public friendly' face of the facility, Jate smiled at the Bothan receptionist and produced his identi-card - that of Tanner Vance.

"Hi, I'm here to speak with one of your personnel," Jate said, smiling big and not breaking eye-contact. "An individual by the name of Rakses Primt, one of your shift supervisors, has been asking around about some security advice concerning some continuously disappearing hardware and I've come offering my consulting invoice…"

The Bothan blinked, looking down to her holoscreen, before tapping a series of keys and checking records.

"Oh, I see, yes, we–"

"Look, miss, I'm a very busy sentient," Jate prodded, checking the time as he looked at his wrist. "I have a full schedule today, and considering a standard meeting can take quite some time to adequately identity every possible quotation point in this advisory, I can't afford to be jumbled about by uncertain receptionists."

"Yes, I understand Mr. Vance, but–"

"Just call Mr. Primt down, I'll have a few words, I'll update my quote with any additional notations and then I can move on to the Palace for my next meeting this afternoon."

"Of course, I understa–"

"Please don't make me late, it's a slight against my reputation and in my business that reputation could make or break someone like me. I mean, if I'm offering security advise and show that I can't even keep to a schedule for meetings, doesn't that reflect badly on my security plans? Who would trust an advisory by someone on standard operating procedures whom couldn't even make it to a late dinner appoint on time?"

The Bothan's fur rippled, the full body shake telling Jate he had finally pushed the receptionist to the point of relenting, and kept smiling as she opened the communicator to reach Rakses Primt.

"Mr. Primt, I have a sentient named Tanner Vance here," The Bothan said, looking up to the grinning male with annoyance. "Yes, sir, he says he is here under an advisory position concerning the disappearing hardware from the lock-up. Yes, sir, he's a security adviser."

There was a pause, where Jate's plan could either succeed or fail; it all came down to how dedicated Rakses Primt was about keeping his guise as a hard-working, trustworthy shift supervisor intact. If he filed an issue with weaponry disappearing, but didn't willingly take a meeting with someone whom could help with the situation, the result would make his superiors ask some questions as to why Rakses would ignore the issue…

"Mr. Primt will meet with you now, sir. Please wait over to the left."

Jate smiled, nodding.


"…so as you can see, Mr. Primt," Jate was saying, having been given a meeting in a secluded mess hall, now seated opposite the guard in question as he laid out the information he had been given by Chiv. "I have all the information I need to make sure you're not only terminated from your position, but also black-listed by every legitimate prison facility and corporation from the Inner to the Mid Rim."

Rakses looked down at the holopad, his eyes narrowed. The evidence was undeniable, and he couldn't do anything about it - he had already approved Vance's clearance, had already acknowledged him as a legitimate security adviser and openly stated he was meeting with the man… so he couldn't touch the guy, not without raising questions.

"What do you want, Vance?" Rakses' voice was one of a downed, but not willing to accept defeat, individual who knew he was trapped.

"A meeting," Jate said simply, folding the holopad over and placing the item back within his jacket pocket. "I just need to speak with Corran Antilles and his fellow pilots."

"Not possible, not even if I could work the guards around you," Rakses spat, sitting back as he folding his arms across his chest. "Even with the evidence you've got on me, I can't break that much protocol. Only very specific individuals can see them at the moment, and unfortunately you're not one of them, no matter how threatening you are."

"I see," Jate said, clearing his throat as he stood up and looked away from the other man, thinking. "Well, considering I'm currently here as a security adviser, and considering we are currently meeting about some missing items from the lock-up, and considering it wouldn't be unexplainable as to why you may have taken a security adviser on a tour of the facility having seen his ideas for a newer, more practical, yet far safer security layout, I don't see why we couldn't take a walk right now."

Rakses snorted, standing up himself and trying to stare the Corellian down.

"You don't get it," The guard said, his voice growing louder with his impatience. "I know what you have will ruin me, but you can't just stop by their cell without being seen by every holo-recorder in the area. It's not possible to see them. At all."

Jate considered the options. He knew he was pushing Rakses toward the maw, and wasn't offering anything in the way of a safety net or escape. So, if the guard wouldn't come up with his own solutions, Jate would just have to make one for him…

"Tell me, Rakses," Jate said, smiling as he turned to look at the other human. "When was the last time you had a security system check?"

"About half a year ago," The guard admitted, inclining his head as he started putting together the Corellian's idea. "And having a security figure present would make for a reasonable excuse to test the holo-recording devices in the prisoner holding facilities…"

"Now we're getting somewhere," Jate said, finally seeing a means to meeting with the pilots. "And if this goes well, and you can shut down the holo-recorders in a sequence that allows me to go past their cell, I promise that the information I have will disappear. No strings attached."

"Right, like I can believe–"

"You were never the reason, Rakses," Jate said, interupting the guard. "I only wanted this meeting with Antilles and his friends from the beginning. You're nothing but a means to getting that. I'd suggest you accept the fact and simply know that I'll be done by the time the security test is completed and you'll never see me again… at least not in a blackmailing capacity."

Rakses thought, considering his options.

"Fine. I'll take you to the checkpoint and then call in the test," Rakses said, motioning for the other to follow. "We'll have several minutes as the system restarts and records the results. As long as we're in and out in that time, no one will know."

Jate followed, anxious to get the meeting started so he could work out a way of helping his friend…


"You have two minutes," Rakses said, standing at the entrance to the hallway that led to Corran's cell. "Don't be late."

Jate narrowed his eyes, nodding. "Don't let the door close early… I still have some nice documentation on me if I'm suddenly caught breaking into this facility during a system check."

The smile on Rakses' lips dropped, one potential idea of dealing with his blackmailer having been crushed. He hadn't considered what would happen if the holopad was handed over with all of his black market dealings for all to see…

"Just hurry up!" The guard snapped.

Jate did. He walked at a quick pace until he reached the appropriate cell, pausing as he checked the path was clear, before stepping forward and looking inside.

The flyboy looked the worse for wear.

"Hey, Corran," Jate said, giving a lop-sided grin. "Long time no see…"

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Tyanni took three deep breaths before ducking into the aircar and settling into her seat, barely glancing at the woman who slid in beside her. It was hard enough being civil to the bush leaguer when she was being her normal disagreeable self, but now that Flight Officer Roch had ended her fun early, she was a parsec away from actually allowing herself to dislike her. She had difficulty keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Please, explain to me again why we had to leave now?"

Roch shot a glare at her. "I'm sorry. Were you too busy dancing with Mr. Trillionaire to notice the mood of the room? The more people we talked to the more suspicious looks we got. It was past time for us to get out of there."

Tyanni tossed her head and directed her gaze out the transparisteel. "I didn't think things were going that badly. I actually received several positive responses."

"Like you could tell the difference between that and a dance offer." She muttered the sentence under her breath but Tyanni caught it and turned to face her again.

"Excuse me?"

Roch didn't answer her, only raised one eyebrow briefly and turned to look out her own window. Now Tyanni really struggled to keep her tone even.

"At least I was trying and not attempting to avoid the entire party."

Still no answer.

"I even found a man who represented a group who support Rogue Squadron. They're raising money for a full private investigative team to partner with the legal team in hopes of seeing Captain Antilles and rest exonerated as soon as possible. I told him they had our full cooperation and to ask for anything they needed. So you see, we do have allies."

"Wonderful. Are they also going to bribe the judge and buy a 'not guilty' verdict? 'Cause all the investigating in the world hasn't helped them so far."

"You could try to have a little optimism!"

The pilot swung on her. "Listen, princess. I know that where you come from money solves everything. Throw some creds around and suddenly everyone lives happily ever after, am I right? Well now you're somewhere completely different, and here, someone else is pulling the strings, and no matter what we do, they are going to mess it up. If everything was running like it's supposed to, the Captain and all wouldn't have been arrested in the first place. But they were, and now we're in a mess that no amount of your money can fix. Get that through your head."

Tyanni blinked, taken aback by Roch's sudden outburst. Neither woman said anything for the remainder of the ride, and the heiress remained lost in thought after the pilot was dropped off and she had the aircar to herself. At this point she would rather be flying back into battle than walking this silent minefield of inter-squadron relations. The sun should have been rising by the time she entered her suite, but they had left the party early enough for the stars to still be shining. At least she would be able to get a few hours of sleep before showing up to work early the next morning. She leveled a glare at the stim shot she had set out on the table in preparation for a sleepless night followed by a busy day, then passed through a doorway and tossed her clutch on the sleep-couch and began yanking out her earrings. The face in the mirror was already gathering dark circles under her eyes and she thought absently that she would have to fix that in the morning. Somehow there was something else nagging at the back of her mind, something that needed to be done before she fell asleep…

Smack!

She had slapped herself. Leaning in, she peered closer at the mirror and lifted a hand to her cheek, a cheek that should have been bright red but only glowed faintly, makeup covering the pain. No, not makeup. With sudden fierceness she angled her nails into claws and dug under the synthflesh, tearing it away without regard to the pain the ripping adhesive caused. She scraped every inch of it off and then splashed her face with water over and over again. Finally out of breath, she allowed herself to look in the mirror once more.

The scar crawled over her cheek and disheveled hair fell over one eye. Jelt gripped the edges of the sink and stared long and hard, as if to commit the sight to memory. Then, in complete silence, she moved back to the common room and sent out a coded burst informing Sythis that the message had been delivered to Mal'fey. After that was done she finally collapsed on her bed, but it took a long while for her to fall into a restless sleep.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Corran heard the steps as somebody approached his cell. He expected one of the guards, either bringing food or getting him for another hearing. But as he saw the person that stopped in front of him, his jaw dropped almost. It was like a ghost from the past. It must have been a decade since he had last seen that man.

“Jate? Jate Vors?” Corran asked, almost carefully. Maybe he was having hallucinations caused by being cut off the Force for too long. The younger man grinned again. “In the flesh. Damn, Corran, there would be a lot of crooks in Coronet, who would pay to see you like this.”  Corran got up from his bunk, frowning at the son of his old CorSec-partner. “And you’re here to tell me that?”

Jate shook his head, looking serious now as he lowered his voice. “We don’t have much time. I’m here to help you out of here.” Corran stepped closer to the force field that was blocking the entry of his cell. “Just don’t do anything stupid. The trouble my friends and I are in is huge enough already.” Jate gave him an almost offended look. “When did I ever do anything stupid?”

Corran grinned slightly. “You dared to date Sasha. But enough of the small talk. What’s your plan?” The older Corellian raised an eye-brow, waiting for an answer. “I have none. Yet.” Jate replied sheepishly. “But I’ll work on that.” Corran sighed, one part relieved that Jate hadn’t said that had placed detonators at the exterior wall of the cell block, but also frustrated that there was no miracle plan getting them out of here.

“Okay, listen, contact a friend of mine at my place at Bela Vistal Tower.” Corran instructed the younger man. “Her name is Jade. Whistler can verify your identity, in case she doesn’t believe who you are.” <i>And she’ll know in a blink of an eye if you’re lying.</i> Corran thought, hating himself for his paranoia. But he had seen what his blind confidence concerning Ranzen and Marcus had caused.

“Jade? I like her name.” Jate smirked. “I’ll make sure, that…” He stopped as they heard somebody coming closer. A very nervous looking guard appeared next to the younger Corellian. “You have to go. Now! They are sending some guards to get Antilles and Koortyn. “ Jate turned back to Corran.  “We’ll talk soon, Corran. We’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Corran nodded almost absently, his thoughts already one step further as he wondered why they just would send for Sam and him.

***

Sam and Corran, accompanied by two guards and the ever-present ysalamiri, walked through the hallway towards one of the meeting rooms. <i>Something has changed. </i> Corran thought as the guards removed their cuffs <i>before</i> they entered the room.

Inside an older man, maybe in his mid-fifties, waited for them. He was wearing the naval uniform of a Vice-Admiral. Immediately Corran saluted, while Sam just crossed her arms sceptically. The Admiral returned the salute, then pointed to two free chairs. “Captain Koortyn, Captain Antilles, please take a seat. I’m Admiral Rafe Telarna, senior judge advocate. “

Telarna offered them a handshake. “Your grandparents asked me to conduct your defence. Shall we begin?”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The athletic track surrounding the officers’ gymnasium at Fleet HQ was a kilometer long, hilly, and wound through wooded landscaping that almost gave the impression of being dirtside on a primitive planet rather than the scintillating orb that was Coruscant. Led by their officers (except for Abiik, bringing up the rear so as to harry any stragglers), the enlisted personnel of Rogue Squadron pounded along the trace at a blistering pace, easily lapping the groups of staff officers out for their morning physical fitness training. The squadron’s petty officers had called the cadence for the formation, but after several call outs, the pilots themselves began taking turns. Gavin was the most recent, and now shouted for Tyanni to take his place.

Tyanni dropped back from her position at the head of the column to where Gavin was. The young aristocrat made a stark contrast to the Corellian, dressed as she was in a tracksuit and high end athletic shoes that obviously came from some the Glittani Esplanade’s ritziest boutiques while Gavin was garbed in somewhat grubby and threadbare gray New Republic issue sweats. The way the two youths were dressed didn’t even compare to what Enzo was wearing though, as the Gungan showed up for PT attired only in a native loincloth.

“Okay, Tyanni,” Gavin grinned. “Take over. I want to go carry the guidon. Enzo’s been toting it the whole run.”

The female pilot looked somewhat hesitant. “What cadence am I supposed to use?”

“Whatever one that you like,” the Corellian responded before sprinting forward to join Mela and Enzo.

“Cadence” shouted a number of the enlisted astrotechs. Tyanni looked over the formation, uncertain of what to say, then decided to use a cadence that she’d heard some of the NR’s commando units using:

   Beat me, whip me, I need love,

Howls of lewd delight erupted from the column, with the techs lustily echoing the cadence.

   Let me feel your velvoid glove!
   Crack that whip across my back,
   Stretch me out on your pleasure rack!

At that moment, Gavin came sprinting by Tyanni with the Rogue Squadron guidon in hand, intent on making a satellite loop of the formation. He flashed a grin at his counterpart, shaking his head at the bawdy lyrics. As Gavin passed by, Tyanni’s own face twisted into a knowing smirk. What a farce this is becoming . . .


Mela Roch, arms clasped behind her back, cast her gaze over the astrotechs and droids of Rogue Squadron, drawn up in precise ranks within their hangar and standing at ease while Gavin issued final instructions to the section Chief Petty Officers. Behind the formation was a somewhat ragged looking group of contractors from Incom, Fabritech, Taim and Bak, and Industrial Automaton, on site to assist Rogue Squadron in the upgrades of their snubfighters. The early morning hours clearly didn’t agree with the civilians, and they were swilling down cups of caf in a vain attempt to reach some sort of consciousness.

“All Hands!” Gavin ordered. “Turn to and commence squadron work! Fall out!”

 Mela watched as her wingman executed a precise about-face and approached her. Circumstance placed the young pilot into a situation where he served as sort of a combination Executive/Officer/Adjutant/Officer of the Deck on a daily basis, but Mela felt that it was good that Gavin was getting the vast amount of useful experience at his age. “Readiness report,” the female officer stated after returning Gavin’s salute.

“Two ship section standing by at present, remaining at two as fighters are rotated in and out of upgrade procedure.”

“Two!” Mela blurted, wincing at the information.

“More when you submit this requisition to the Quartermaster Section for the six replacement X-wings we need. All it needs is your authorization, and a half dozen A4s will be on their way.” Gavin handed Mela a datapad, the acting commander of the squadron placing her thumb over the device’s reader to verify the request. “Abiik is currently on flight readiness status, and the other pilot–”

“Will be me,” Mela stated. “If the Rogues can only respond with two ships, one of them had better be the leader.”

“In that case, you’ll need to review these.” Gavin began passing Mela datacard after datacard. “Latest Intel updates on the Imperial Remnant, Corporate Sector Authority, and everything you wanted to know about the Koornacht Clusterfrak but were afraid to ask.”

“Koornacht? That’s those–what do you call them? Ye-veeth-ah? Yev-eth-ah?”

Gavin shrugged slightly. “I just refer to them as the Dushkan League. Where was I? Oh, and last, but not least, estimates on those entities whose intentions toward the New Republic have been deemed ‘hostile’, to include the Smugglers’ Alliance, the Hutt Kajidics, and Black Sun.”

Mela sighed. “You know how many terabytes of info I’ve got here? At least  I’ve got something to read while I’m on standby, or at least when I go to the refresher.”

“Before you go, Mela, would you authorize these requests for new astromech droids, reactant and tibanna gas, and munitions. I’ve got Enzo tasked with handling the munitions, and Tyanni handling the fuel delivery, unless you see fit to change those orders.”

“A Gungan loose in the magazine?” Mela shook her head. “Anyway, I’d rather have Ventyra handling the fuel. She just might get a stain on her uniform that way.”

“It’s not Tyanni’s fault that she’s high born and her family’s loaded with credits,” Gavin replied, his disapproval of Mela’s dig at the aristocratic pilot evident in his voice. “The flight crews sure like her. Look at they way they responded to her cadence calling. By the way, how was that shindig you two attended last night? You didn’t seem to mind her presence then if you were tagging along with her.”

“I should’ve joined you and Enzo in ferrying down the X-wings last night,” the older female exclaimed, “and sent Abiik in my place. He could’ve put that sword he has to good use on that crowd.” Mela made a chopping motion with her hand to emphasis the point.

“Rimkin justice,” Gavin murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Captain Antilles’ X-wing is a T-65B variant,” the Corellian replied, avoiding the question. “Thought you should know. Do you have any further instructions?”

“None,” Mela replied, returning Gavin’s salute. “Carry on, Mr. Thayer.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Jate stepped out of the speeder he had rented, having circled the Bela Vistal several times to ensure he wasn't being followed. He pulled his bags out of the rear seat, having returned to the safe-house to get his belongings. He didn't want to take the chance of leading any potential threats toward someone Corran trusted. It wouldn't do at all, especially since it would likely result in their case being hindered even further.

He had landed on one of the many platforms available for visitors, crossing the distance to the tower proper with a mildly increased pace. Jate didn't want to raise any alarms, nor draw suspicion to himself.

Entering the tower, Jate walked straight up to the front desk, smiling. Given the highly dense population of Coruscant, there were towers that offered both permanent housing and rented accommodation; in this situation, it would work to the mercenary's advantage.

"Hello, sir, how can I help?"

"I'd like to rent a room for three days," Jate said, producing his Tanner Vance identification. As it was being processed, the Corellian looked around and was impressed. "Oh, one of my old friends, Corran Antilles, lives here. We went through training together many years ago… could you give me his apartment number, so I can drop by and surprise him?"

"Certainly," The young man said, returning Jate's smile, uploading the information to a small holo-chip. "We have you three floors below him, and your payment has been accepted. Welcome to the Bela Vistal Tower, Mr. Vance, enjoy your stay."

Jate nodded, lifting up his luggage and moving toward the closest turbolift…


Standing out the front of Corran's door, Jate checked the hallway to left and right before knocking. He waited, standing slightly off-center from the door itself, just in case. People in his line of business tended to learn rather quickly not to stand dead-on to an opening they couldn't see to the other side of.

"Hello? My name is Jate Vors," The Corellian said, knocking again. "Corran sent me. He said Whistler could verify me."

Jate waited for a response.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Rogue Squadron’s hangar bay echoed with the whine of servo-driven machinery and power tools, the hum of conversation interrupted by shouted commands and instructions that created a cacophony of noise. Massive loadlifter droids bearing starfighter components thudded their way across the floor, while overhead cranes quickly and efficiently swung those same parts into place. Off to one side, a soundslug player blasted out the hits of the musical group Red Shift Limit.

Moving from station to station, ducking under X-Wings and dodging past burly astrotechs stripped down to undershirts for the work, Gavin grinned as he observed the work, thoroughly pleased with the pace of the overhaul. With twelve ground crews to work on four fighters at a time, the upgrading of Rogue Squadron’s X-Wings to A4 standards was proceeding at a rapid clip. His own fighter’s work was already completed; the X-Wing was now nearly the equal of an A-Wing in speed, the cargo carrying capacity now increased to 150 kilograms, and the ship's armor, armament, and electronics suite had been vastly improved. Once the Ordnance and Supply Section of Fleet Quartermaster Command delivered the Rogues’ six new fighters, Gavin would be able to report that material wise, the squadron would be at full strength.

Personnel wise, however, that was a different story. The Rogues were at less than fifty percent of their authorized strength, with most of the senior pilots out. Gavin even heard some scuttlebutt that some of the higher ups in Fleet Command, as well as some in the government, were floating the idea of disbanding the New Republic’s elite squadron.

Gavin’s comlink buzzed for attention. It was the main security post, informing him that two individuals, a human civilian and a droid, had shown up in response to a NRDF summons regarding Flight Officer Saengo Raynes. Gavin instructed the guard to have to two remain there, then dispatched a vehicle to transport them to the hangar.

After informing Mela, Gavin went to the hangar entrance to meet the associates of Saengo. A speeder pulled up smartly to building, and a red and black droid emerged from the vehicle, helping the driver unload a hoverchair and then assisting a rather obese human from the speeder's passenger compartment.

Gavin stepped forward to offer his greetings. “Ensign Thayer, Rogue Squadron. Please, would you come inside?” The young Corellian ushered the two inside the hangar and into an administrative space. Saengo’s associates seemed somewhat uneasy,  wringing their hands nervously.

“We received notice from the New Republic,” the portly man stated, “that Shy had been hurt.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” Gavin replied, “Mr., ah–”

“Verner’s the name, but maybe you should be talking with Deedle here more.”

“Deedle?” The Corellian looked at the droid. “You’re Saengo’s, ah, Flight Officer Raynes–”

Gavin hesitated. He didn’t want to say “droid”, implying that the mechanical being standing before him was merely a piece of property. Years upon years of war had taken its toll on the galaxy, and often the only real family some had left were droids. “You’re Saengo’s associate?”

The red and black droid straightened up with pride. “Why, yes. Yes, I am Mistress Saengo’s associate.”

“Well, Deedle, I’m going to be quite frank with you. It is with great regret that I must tell you that Saengo was severely wounded in action while serving the New Republic.”

Gavin paused, thinking back to the time on the Vindicator, when he and Enzo watched the medrunner rescue shuttle bring Saengo back to safety. He would never forget the sight of his injured comrade, the stench of her charred flesh, her screams of agony despite the narco-drip attached to her. “Rest assured that she is receiving the finest medical care that the New Republic has to offer, currently undergoing treatment and therapy at the State Medical College on Rhinnal. If you so wish, I can arrange priority passage for both of you to that system right away.”

“We’d very much appreciate that, Master Thayer,” Deedle replied, with Verner bobbing his head in agreement.

Picking up his datapad, Gavin quickly punched in some commands and requests. “Everything’s arranged. I’ll have an  airspeeder fly you to your residence if needed, and then to Eastport. Your transport will be leaving for Rhinnal this afternoon.”

Verner glided forward in his hoverchair. “We’re grateful for all that you’ve done for us, young sir,” he said, offering a meaty hand.

Gavin reached out to clasp the older man’s hand, then shook Deedle’s mechanical one. “Saengo was a friend, and we, as well as the New Republic, are eternally grateful for her sacrifice.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Mela sat behind the desk and looked at the stacks of datacards. She'd seen one about a shipment of supplies today, but couldn't remember where in the stack to find it. With most of the fleet train tied down on the Koornacht Cluster, logistics had been forced to hire civilian contractors to carry cargo. She found the datacard she was looking for underneath one of the situation reports on the Koornacht cluster. Mela noticed the title and then tossed it in the drawer. “Not like we'll be going there any time soon,” she muttered.

The datacard showed that the squadron was expecting a shipment of tibanna gas from Bespin from one of these civilian shippers. She sifted through the stack of datacards and found the one which had the inventory of the squadron's supplies. Which prompted a muttered curse from her. She glanced at the chronometer and hurried out of the office. There was a speeder painted in the colors of the New Republic Defense Forces parked in the hanger, right in the spot where

Mela winked at the chief when she walked up behind the military driver and tapped him on the shoulder. At her touch, he spun around.

“I'm with, Colonel…”

Mela cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I don't give a frak. You are parked in my hangar. You are interfering with the operations of my squadron,” she pointed to some of the painted markings on the concrete, “this is a designated maintenance area, not parking.”

She snatched the datapad from him and skimmed the form. It was a requisition for six new X-wings. She scrawled a signature one the bottom with a stylus, thumbrinted it, and then handed it back to him. “Now go tell your Colonel we are ready for his X-wings. Hopefully your compatriots over in supply to follow directions from the crew chief. Dismissed.”

She nodded to the chief. “I've got some paperwork for  you. It seems that we're getting a shipment of Tibanna gas. It's the good stuff from Bespin, so we'll save it, and use the other stuff for training. It's on a freighter piloted by a human female. It should be along today.”

She popped the datacard out of her datapad and handed it to him. “I'll be in the simulators if you need me.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

It had been a long trip from Bespin. Not that the trip itself was to blame. It was the small squad of Republic military that accompanied the shipment of tibanna gas that made the trip a long one.

The young blond woman from Dantooine played with an errant lock of her hair as she gazed out the cockpits viewport of her YZ-900 light freighter named the Wandering Star. Her deep blue eyes not really focused on anything in particular. She had told the creepy looking officer that led the squad she was going to a couple of system checks before they dropped out of hyperspace.
 
Thankfully the R3 astromech droid they had brought with them was helpful enough to handle those. She had taken to referring to the little gold trimmed clear topped droid as ArTee based off his designation R3-T4. The little droid seemed to take a liking to her which seemed to perturb Lt.Commander Vains to no end.

Vains was the officer attached to the small squad for this mission. He was tall and lanky with the kind of black hair that made his already pale complexion seem ghostly. His mannerisms were cold which immediately rubbed the young woman the wrong way. They have had small verbal clashes through the trip mainly on the fact that the Wandering Star is her ship not his. The biggest of which was over her not letting any of them go into her late foster father’s cabin. She hasn’t even gone in there since recovering the ship from the mercenaries that killed both her beloved foster parents. It’s been three years since that happened.

The other five members of the squad have primarily stayed out of her way though a couple of them have tried to make small talk with her in hopes of charming her up. Those hopes have been dashed not by her but at the hands of the tall muscled dark skinned quartermaster Evion Trakk.  He had warm brown eyes and his grey hair was cut in the typical tight military fashion. He reminded the young woman a lot of her foster father Halcyon Stargazer; gruff yet caring.

Something was bugging her about this whole thing. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was frustrating to her that she couldn’t figure it out. She of all people should be able to not just because she was raised by a ex-Imperial commando, but because of that coupled with the fact she was Force sensitive and trained by a Jedi. Whatever was going to happened seemed to be as elusive as reading the face of a seasoned Sabaac player.

The contract that she got to deliver this cargo of tibanna was one of the luckiest things to happen to her since Halcyon and Jaella’s untimely deaths. The contract gave her more than enough credits to make some upgrades on her ship and leave her a nice profit to live on. The contract even gave her vouchers for a full load of fuel to Courscant and a full load after she made the delivery. She was guessing it was because this delivery was to the Famous Rogue Squadron. Halcyon had told her stories about these daring starfighter pilots that seemed to defy the odds time and time again.

There was a knock at the entrance of the cockpit that brought the young woman out of her thoughts. She turned the captains’ chair around to see Evion.
“Everything running smoothly, Captain? “He asked. “The L T wanted to know if you need his help.” He added; rolling his eyes at the comment.

“He could help by walking out the airlock.” She giggled. “Other than that everything is fine, Master Chief. Right, ArTee?” She added asking the astromech.

With several gleeful beeps and chips the clear domed droid responded.

“Well I will pass that along.” He chuckled. “I thought I told you could call me, Ev.” He commented.

“I will once you start calling me, Kaena, not Captain.” She replied with a lopsided smirk.

“ Well Ka…” his reply was cut short by the sudden drop out of hyperspace. He was thrown forward and saved himself from face planting into the co pilots seat by quickly throwing his hands forward  hold on t the seat.

Kaena half turned and was half thrown around in her seat to see one huge Bulwark-class battle cruiser out the viewport.  Several star fighters of mismatched configurations heading toward them. She looked at the coordinates to see the they were just on the opposite side of Hesperidium , the resort moon of Coruscant. That meant they were just outside of any patrols that Coruscant had set up.

“What should I do?” Evion asked as he strapped into the co pilots chair.

“Calling for help would be nice.” She snapped sarcastically at him.“I got a bad feeling about this.” Kaena whispered to herself as she threw up her shields and prepared her weapons systems.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Gavin walked slowly around his X-Wing fighter, R6-D7 trailing behind him as the two carefully inspected the various components of the sleek craft. The astrotech crew stood off to one side, wearing proud grins as they watched the small figures conduct their preflight check. The second Gavin received word that the upgrades on his ship were complete, he’d dashed through the hangar bay to view the finished work.

R6-D7 was whistling and warbling in approval as Gavin concluded his inspection, and the young Corellian flashed a smile as well. The crews had really done some fine work that morning, and since the replacement X-Wings hadn’t been shipped over from Ordnance and Support yet, it looked like Gavin would be able to start letting the crews take off for their lunch break. An extended lunch break, perhaps, as an acknowledgment of their labors.

A holoprojector carried on Gavin’s utility belt chimed, calling for his attention. Checking the address of the sender, he noted that it was being transmitted from the Quartermaster Corps. Excellent. Probably a status update on the X-Wings that the Rogues had requested. Activation of the unit revealed a blue-tinged, half meter tall, holographic Aqualish glowering darkly at the Corellian.

“Commander,” Gavin said by way of greetings, but got no further as the other officer cut him off.

“Mr. Thayer, is it?” the Aqualish asked, clearly irate. “We received your request from your CO. You don’t need to send us another requisition for the same material a few hours later.”

A nonplussed Gavin could only stare as the holoprojector displayed a copy of the requisition that Gavin had processed, and then one that Mela Roch  submitted for some reason.

“Yes Sir! May I–”

“We here in Ordnance and Supply are not feeble, Mr. Thayer. Your requisition will processed accordingly and per regulations.”

It was apparent from the hologram that the Aqualish was speaking in his native tongue as the movement of his mouth didn’t match his words, an electronic translator converting the sounds into Basic. But how was it that the translator was able to project such venom into its processed voice?

“Understood, Sir. It was never–” Gavin was left talking to the empty space as the holographic image suddenly derezzed, the supply officer abruptly severing the transmission. R6 swiveled his head to regard the young pilot quizzically, then warbled confused question.

“No, R6,” Gavin chuckled, the lilt in his voice at odds with the murderous glint in his eyes, “the answer to that would be ‘Mela Roch’.” Spinning on his heel, the young pilot set off to immediately confront his mercurial wingmate.

Pilots on flight readiness status were required to be fully suited up, standing by to be ready to take off at a moment’s notice. The “ready room”–to use the term loosely–was section of the hangar located near to where their X-Wings were spotted and ready for launch. Someone from the Rogues’ past managed to scrounge up some overstuffed easy chairs for the pilots’ use, and Abiik Verd was hunched forward in one them, poring over the intelligence reports on his datapad.

The hulking Mandalorian looked up as the smaller Corellian approached, and Abiik could see that Gavin was highly miffed. The small pilot’s displeasure only grew when he saw that Mela Roch was nowhere to be seen.

“Ner vod,” Abiik said in a placating voice, attempting to defuse the situation before it occurred. “Su’cuy!”

“Where’s Mela at, Abiik?” Gavin asked hotly.

Abiik rose from his chair, towering over the Corellian. “I believe she mentioned something about reports, and maybe simulators.”

“Simulators!” Gavin sputtered. “She’s on stand by, ready reaction status! She’s not supposed to take off to make up her simulator time quota! What happens if an alert comes down?”

At that moment, the very exact scenario occurred: Warning klaxons suddenly sounded, sending personnel and droids scrambling for their stations. Jelt came tearing out of the fuel stores area, while Enzo, hailu streaming behind him, rushed up from the magazine. The pilots hurriedly suited up in their flight gear, throwing on flak vests, chest packs, and grabbing flight gauntlets and helmets before sprinting to their X-Wings and clambering up into the cockpits. Ground crews hurriedly positioned astromechs into the fighters’ droid sockets, disconnected power cables, and conducted final checks.

Settling into his X-Wing’s seat, Gavin brought up the fighter’s heads up display so as to receive status reports from Flight Command: Enemy was identified as a Bulwark-class cruiser, with hostile craft launched. Location was on the opposite side of Hesperidium, and moving to attack civilian traffic.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Being back in his cell again Corran laid down on the bench, staring at the ceiling. At least they didn’t bind his hands again this time. For sure an order of Admiral Telarna. Corran was rethinking their meeting with the advocate. Sam hasn’t been talkative most of the time, she never was, so Corran had monopolised most of the conversation. But then Sam dropped the bombshell with telling that the astromech, she took from Black Sun, may have some holo material.

Telarna was on his way now to meet Jade at Corran’s penthouse. Corran sighed deeply, wishing he could reach her through the Force. He had the bad feeling that the Admiral wouldn’t be the only one, who would try to get this footage. Corran felt the urge to warn her. Maybe it was just the signs of a beginning paranoia after the events and betrayals of the last days. It had to be, because it was impossible of having a Force vision within the ysalamiri reach.

Corran turned his head, staring into the direction of the four animals in front of his cell. Maybe he should give them if they would have to stick together for longer. Getting up from his bench, Corran started to pace through his cell like a caged sand panther. At least it was a way to get rid of some energy.

He was about to lower himself down to the floor for some push-ups, as he heard the familiar by now footsteps of the guards. Straightening, Corran expected that they would get him again. But this time they passed his cell, opening the ones of Han and Marcus instead.

“Where are you taking us?” Corran heard Han complain, before he could see him being dragged along by one guard. “You are transferred to another prison. The NRI thinks it’s too dangerous to keep all of you at one place.” The security officer explained. “Stop giving them that much information.” The other guard, who was escorting Marcus, snapped at his colleague. “Have you forgotten our orders?”

With that the door closed and they were gone, leaving behind a speechless Corran. He gazed at the exit for a long moment, hoping that Han would be safe wherever they were taking him.

“Do you think they think we are too dangerous or that there is danger for us?” Corran asked loud enough that Sam should hear him in her cell.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Mela strode purposefully toward a bank of turbolifts that would take her down to one of Starfighter Command’s training annexes, fully intent on hopping into one of the X-Wing simulators and vaping several flights of holographic TIEs. The intel packets that Gavin gave her earlier had sent Mela’s brain into info overload, and there was nothing like flying a few choice missions to get the old synapses back into proper firing order.

After a few moments, the turbolift car arrived and Mela stepped in, though her hand hesitated for a moment over lift’s control panel buttons. Her status called for her to remain “readily available” in case of a scramble, but the reports Mela had read gave all indications that that was unlikely to happen. Frell, the NRI’s own spooks had rated the current threat to Coruscant as “negligible at this time”. Plus, HQ had to know the Rogues were in the middle of an overhaul/re-equipping stage, short on pilots, its leaders facing court martial. So it seemed pretty inconceivable that the squadron would be called upon to fly a combat mission. Biting her lip, Mela pressed the button that would direct the car to the level where the flight simulators were located.

As the turbolift progressed downward, the pilot turned to admire the view whenever the car passed through the outer structure of the megablock. Stratoscrapers created by millennia of construction formed the sides of massive chasms, larger than some found in the more rugged parts of Tatooine. Still, the sight wasn’t as impressive as those of the wroshyr trees on Kashyyyk. For a native of a desert planet like herself, most appreciated however, was the amount of cool shade the trees provided.

The turbolift halted just one level above the training annex, and several staff officers entered the car. Mela turned to greet them with a perfunctory nod. It was at that moment when alarm klaxons began sounding throughout base, and Mela’s own comlink began chiming insistently. The pilot’s hand snaked out to hit the call button that would take her back to the hangar level, but she wasn’t quick enough. One of the staff officers had already pressed the button that would take the car down to their duty stations, several levels below the training annex. As the lift descended, Mela let loose with several choice profanities, causing the staff officers to turn and stare at her in shock and  with reproof.

After depositing her fellow passengers, Mela paced furiously inside the car, sometimes hammering on the control buttons in a vain attempt to speed along the turbolift’s upward progress. Her comlink suddenly ceased wailing the alert tone and pinged, signaling an incoming priority transmission. “Roch!” Mela all but snarled.

“Twelve, Eleven. What is your current–”

Gavin. The sound of the kid’s voice was coming in very loud over the comlink, nearly blowing out the speaker array, so that meant he must be using his fighter’s com unit. “On my way,” Mela answered as the turbolift finally arrived at the hangar level. She squirmed her way through the door, not even waiting for the sliding panels to fully open. “What do we got?” the female pilot asked as she sprinted for the flight line.

“Bulwark-class cruiser, confirmed hostile,” Gavin replied. “Six, Seven, Eight, and myself have four lit and –”

“Go!” Mela ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Sitting in his X-Wing’s cockpit, Gavin frowned. Considering her “history”, perhaps it would be best if someone remained behind to ensure Mela actually made it to the hangar this time.

“Rogue Squadron, move into take off positions,” Gavin commanded. “We’ll be lifting off by sections. Seven and Eight, you’ll accompany me. Six, you remain behind to fly as wingmate for Rogue Leader.”

“Eleven, this is Six. Repeat, please.”

The young Corellian could imagine the scowl on Ventyra’s face. “Six, you are to remain behind in order to fly cover for Rogue Leader.” When Tyanni failed to acknowledge the command, Gavin stated coldly, “Do you understand your orders, Six?”

“I copy, Eleven,” Tyanni answered, the ice in her voice matching Gavin’s. “Out.”

Pushing control levers forward, Gavin, Abiik, and Enzo’s X-Wings taxied toward the hangar bay doors. Ground crews quickly spotted the three ships on the launch pad, and with a lurch, the hangar’s repulsorlift units and tractor beams catapulted the fighters out into Coruscant’s sky. Engaging their sublight drives, the swift ships rocketed through the atmosphere toward space.

As the X-Wings ascended rapidly through the sky, Enzo signaled Gavin. “Gavee–Elefen. Yousa nosa hafta wingman.”

“3 or 5, Eight,” Gavin grunted in reply, “somebody was going to be without a wingman, no matter how slice it. Seven and Eight, you fly cover for each other as normal, and I’ll fly cover for you. Both of you try to cover me. Please. If they try to break up the formation, try to link up with whoever is nearest. But make sure you cover the lone pilot! Copy?”

Abiik and Enzo both acknowledged with single clicks of their coms, with the Mandalorian adding “Take care of yourself, ner vod.”


Mela rushed into the hangar, just in time to see Enzo’s X-Wing take off. Instinctively she headed for the hardstand where her fighter was parked, only to abruptly change direction and begin running for Rogue Two’s spot, cursing the whole time. Reaching Han Antilles’ fighter, she scrambled up the boarding ladder and planted herself in the cockpit, somewhat surprised to see Tyanni Ventyra’s X-Wing still on the flightline, the young aristocrat watching Mela from her cockpit, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Acting Rogue Leader,” Tyanni said in her cultured voice. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“Not now,” Mela warned as she raced through her cockpit pre-flight checks.

“If memory serves me correctly, my etiquette teachers instructed me on the nuances and finer points of being fashionably late , but I don’t think that this applies to this situation.”

“Stow it, Missy!” Mela snapped. “Why haven’t you taken off yet?”

“I was ordered to remain behind,” Tyanni purred. “And your reason?”

“Been busy drawing up your weekend duty assignments from now until infinity. Looks like your date to the Debutante Cotillion is gonna get stood up. Now, prepare for takeoff!”

“As ordered,” Tyanni all but yawned.

“Hey, you! Droid!” Mela shouted to Blip, Han’s astromech. “You ready for takeoff?”

Blip, unhappy with what he considered to be trespassing into his X-Wing, responded with the equivalent of an electronic raspberry. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Mela grunted.

Signaling Tyanni, Mela taxied her fighter forward toward the launch pad. Catapulted out of the hangar, the two set off in pursuit of their fellow Rogues.


As Mela and Tyanni approached the upper limits of Coruscant’s atmosphere, the acting commander of Rogue Squadron had Blip open a private com channel to Gavin’s fighter. “Twelve, Eleven. I’m reading you,” the young pilot answered.

“Listen, Runt. I thought I told you to have the squadron take off without me.”

An audible gulp. “We did.”

“Except for Ventyra,” Mela said accusingly.

“Yes.”

“And you ignored my orders because?”

“Because . . . I wanted to make sure someone was there . . . to make sure you got back to the hangar . . . and it wouldn’t be like . . . the last time?”

“Don’t trust me, Runt?”

“Mela . . . Twelve. It’s not that,” Gavin stammered as he fumbled for the proper phrasing. “It’s because I care about you, okay?”

Mela was somewhat taken aback by the tone of Gavin’s voice. She was touched by the kid’s concern, but had to admit that such sentiments made her feel just a bit uneasy. Ignoring what she felt, she went on to ask crisply, “What’s your position? We’ll link up with you.”

“Starfighter Command put us in a holding position. Coordinates 31-19-79.”

“Be right there.”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

"This is getting Karking annoying!" Kaena seethed. The Wandering Star was getting pelted by the uglies low powered laser fire. They weren't enough to do damage to her shields but they sure did cause the ship to shutter when they hit.

"What is going on?!" came a exasperated yell from behind her. It was Vains and he was not in a good mood.

Trakk quickly turned in his seat to face the Lt. commander. "Taking fire, Sir" he reported then just as quickly he turned back trying to get communication from anyone on the status of any help on the way.

"I see that now, but why?" Vains asked as he strapped him self in to a seat.

Kaena not looking back at him replied sarcastically. "Seriously? You want to figure that out right now?" She juked out of the way of of a barrage of laser fire then performed a half left bank roll that made her speed in between two uglies pasting them. Then she deftly reversed the roll to right to vectoring to chase them. "You know you could get your men to man the lasers, that would be very helpful." she snapped.

 "Yeah… brilliant.. suggestion." he stammered as he activated his comlink. " Battle stations. Battle stations." he shouted.

"Ev, I need you to man the forward guns. Fire controls are right in front of you. center panel." Kaena said as she focused on one particular ugly that looked like it was made from a y-wing and a tie interceptor.

The ugly pilot tried to shake Kaena off by feinting right then juking right, but the Dantari girl had already drawn her bead on him. "You got him?" she asked Trakk.

"Oh Yeah." he replied as he fired on the fighter. The fighter incinerated into nothingness."Scratch one."

"With several to go. Where is that help?" she replied quizzically with a tone of irritation in her voice.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Starfighter Command had them boring holes in vacuum in an endless pattern and Mela glanced at the chrono on her instrument panel. Only a few seconds had passed. If felt like they'd been in a holding pattern for an eternity. She glanced down again, frowned, then activated the comm.

“Starfighter commaned, Rogue Twelve.”

“Command here.”

She scanned an Action VI freighter unfortunate enough to have been vectored too near the pirates. Its shields dropped alarmingly, then failed in a burst of energy. The scanner readings were spectacular, and the energy fried most of the systems on the freighter. It wasn't visible at this distance, but she could well imagine the cloud of debris spreading out from the helpless ship, and the frantic damage control efforts of the crew as the raced against time to save their vessel.

“Well, frak this,” the muttered to herself.

“Repeat last transmission.”

“Starfighter command, Rogue Twelve, we are heading for intercept vector for the pirates.”

“Negative Rogue Twelve. Standby.”

“Starfighter command, Rogue Twelve, Negative on that standby order. We need to intercept now!”

“Negative Twelve, standby.”

Mela's knuckles whitened as she gripped the control yoke, and she ground her teeth together, and then bit her lip. The pain help to focus.

“Starfighter command, negative. We are proceeding to intercept. Twelve out!”

She switched the comms over to the Rogues' channel. “All Rogues, this is lead. Set intercept vector enemy vessels. We've got pirates to vape!”

The squadron acknowledged her orders, and then she flipped over to a private channel with Thayer. She flipped it back, mentally debating what to say. Then she flipped back to the private channel.

“Kid…”

“Yes?”

“When we get back from this mission, drinks are on me. And you're drinking.”

She flipped the channel back to the squadron channel as she caught Gavin's strangled gasp.

Her scanners showed that a pair of Nebulon-B2 frigates vectoring toward the Bulwark cruiser. A cloud of starfighters surrounded them, but Coruscant's space fleet had been heavily raided to funnel re-enforcements to the crisis somewhere in the deep galactic core. High command had stripped Coruscant's defenses to the bone. And now a few Rogues, a pair of frigates, and a few customs patrols stood between Coruscant's space based trade and some pirates. Manifests of freighters flashed over her screen, and she mentally cataloged the importance of a few freighters. Then the starfighter wobbled and she cursed under her breath as she overcorrected. The fighter yawed again, and she corrected the ship, managing a little more control. Each starfighter had subtle differences, and Mela would have liked to have time to master this ship's foibles.

The range indicator counted down, and the Rogues managed a better read on the pirate starfighters. The pirates showed had typical pirate tactics, fanning out to disable as many ships as possible, and then tractor them over to their larger cruiser to help themselves to the loot. They showed little cohesion or discipline. Fortunately for the Rogues since they outnumbered them by a sizable margin.

Mela transmitted orders over the squadron channel. “Abiik, Enzo, throttle back. Ventyra, Thayer, and I will engage. Once they're focused on us, attack.”

Everyone acknowledged, then the pirates entered firing range. She drew a bead on one, and fired a quad laser blast. The ugly disintegrated into a ball of plasma. Thayer and Ventyra followed suit, and more explosions decorated the vacuum. They'd each gotten off a shot, and then shot through. More importantly, the pirates had focused on their three X-wings, and shot off in pursuit. She hauled the fighter into a gut wrenching turn, and headed back toward the pirates. She targeted another one, and fired. Parts of fighter when spinning off in three directions, but this one didn't exploded like the other one.

Mandalorian battle cries, and incomprehensible Gungan came over the comms, and two more pirate fighters blossomed into flame. Several of the enemy ships attempted to reverse course, and Ventyra managed to damage one, and Mela hit another with a quad burst from her cannons, skewering the cockpit, and leaving the fighter to drift on as a lifeless hulk. The Rogues made another pass, reducing some more of the pirates to space junk and navigational hazards.

“Command to all fighters, return to base, they're falling back.” She didn't acknowledge the transmission, but hauled the fighter around through a turn and headed back toward the planet. Part of her wanted to frak Command's orders, and keep blasting away, but she fought the urge down, and kept the ship pointed toward home.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

“Jari, where’d you get this shimmersilk gown? It's gorgeous." Miki asked, looking at the way the gold fabric seemed to flow over her figure.
"I've had it, and this one for years, the style is still in fashion so I've kept them in a protective case for the rare times I've needed the high class look."
"I didn't think the Empire paid Marine lieutenants that well, I've seen what this fabric costs, these two must have cost over a grand. How did you afford them?"

"Actually, new, they're worth around 1500 and could still sell for close to that and no, I couldn't have afforded them since they are way above a junior officer's pay grade. We can thank a couple of Outer Rim Lords and Ladies for these. This deep green one came from a high Lord for being part of the undercover security for a big gala he was hosting. Major Williams, my CO, was running the official security detail, this was in addition to the Lord's own security force. It was thought that if a few Imperial uniforms would help people feel more secure. When we had the first meeting, His Lordship came up with the idea of the female undercover security saying we could drift around the party without arousing any suspicion that guys might since they tend to stay in groups."

"How many undercover 'agents' was there? Miki asked.
"Only four of us, since the base commanders were on the guest list, we got to be 'guests' of the command staff, I was the guest of the Lt. Colonel, our second in command, the CO declined citing 'other commitments' but the real reason was he just didn't like those kind of affairs. Back to the gowns, The other 3 girls could get by with rentals but since I'm so tall, all the gowns that fit were too short and the ones that were long enough didn't fit right on top. This gown is a composite of two that fit and were made into one by one of the best designers around who happened to be related to his lordship. She put them together so well, you'd never know it used to be two different ones.  That gold one you're wearing came from a High Lady who said I could keep it after escorting her an event she absolutely had to attend. After it was over and we were back at he estate, she said I looked better in that gown than she ever did, and that was saying something since she had a great figure.  I took her comment as a very high compliment, which I thanked her for."
"That was very nice of her to both give you this gorgeous gown and compliment on how you looked wearing it"
"Miki, you look great in it too, your green skin makes a good contrast to the gold fabric. Shall we be off to the party? it's still a ten minute ride to Mal'fey's tower."
 
 The party had the usual collection people with huge corporate holdings and bigger credit accounts. Jari noted people from several of the more well known companies and families were in attendance, Tyanni Ventyra, heiress of Ventyra Industries being one of the younger ones. She also recognized Val'kia Navin, a Major in the NRI but didn't know the Jedi with her, but the presence of a Jedi meant she was most likely seeing if she could find anything on the Rogue Squadron issue. The scandal vids had blown the whole thing completely out of proportion and some of the more far out ones had the Rogues conspiring with the Sith Lords and a bunch of other absurd things they would never do.

After drifting around the party, talking to various people Jari met up with one of the members of the company that built her ship.
"Mr. Wilsted,  surprised to see you here. How did the head of support services get an invite to this kind of affair?

"Captain Head, I must say that you look absolutely gorgeous in that gown. As to how I got an invite to this affair, the 'Big Man's' anniversary is today so he has 'prior commitments' so he gave me the invite for clearing out a load of 'R&R' notices, some going back several years. The whole thing started when a rather annoyed owner called and wanted to know why their 'very expensive star yacht' was having pressure sensor problems and why they never were notified of the fix to the problem. I got the number of their ship and after searching the records, found that the notice had been sent out but apparently they never got it so, after directing them to the nearest service port I decided to see how many other 'R&R' notices were still listed as 'open' meaning they were either never received or never acted upon. They were all mid 4200 class."

"Hmm, Trident's a 4200 and we did have a sensor in the cargo bay act up last year but after taking it off line we haven't had any other problems. Possible we could have more problems?"

"It's possible since your ship was in storage condition for several years, it might in the group that got some less than perfect sensors. If your hull number is under 4260 it's in that group."
"Hmm, Trident's is 4256. Does that mean we have some other sensors waiting to give out?" Jari wondered.
"That's possible, where there's one bad sensor, there's usually others, most likely in the cargo bay since those seem to get most of the work. When do you have time to have them replaced? May as well replace the lot of them and that will take a few hours so it would be better if you didn't have to be anywhere."
 "I got a delivery tomorrow so how about the day after?, we don't have anything planned then."
"Sounds good to me, I'll make a note of it and we'll see you then."

About an hour and several conversations later Jari got a chance to get in a few words with the NRI agent. "Major Navin, I haven't seen you since that 'zombie world' business, What happened to that world anyway, is it still under 'lockdown'?
You here to see what Mal'fey's up to or seeing what you can find on that incident with the Rouges?"
"Captain Head, As far as I know, it's still a closed world. A bit of both, but more of the latter since that's my current assignment."
"Which you can't talk about, right?"
"Correct. You probably know more about not talking about ongoing investigations than most of the people in this room."
"I should, since I spent enough years chasing pirates and smugglers, but there is one thing you can tell me. Who's handling the military side of this case, I may have something that may shed a bit of light on things some people would like to keep in the dark."
 
"Admiral Rafe Telarna, senior member of the JAG office has the military side. Do you know how many people have mentioned that that they may have something to help with this case?"

"Probably something close to the current population of this floor. You know my past so you know I wouldn't try to pass off swamp water as something else."

"There is that point. You'll need to talk to the Rouges and have them contact the Admiral and set up a meeting. Now if you'll excuse me, someone's trying to get my attention."
"Not a problem, hope they got some useful info for you."
  "I do too, I'm tired of all the gossip and scandal vid stuff being passed off as 'useful' information. I'll be in touch." With that parting comment, the Major was off to meet with the one who wanted her attention, a Jedi, judging by the look of his garb.

  An hour and and a few conversations later, Jari had found a seat to give her feet and legs a break along with having a glass of some expensive tasting wine when Miki dropped into the one next to her.  "Where've you been for the last couple hours or so?"

"Talking to the senior professor of Xeno archaeology at the university here, it was an interesting conversation but I think we lost the others that were talking with him when we got to some ruins in the Outer Rim.  Some people seem to think the useful galaxy ends at Mid Rim and beyond that there's nothing worth bothering with."
"Where'd they that mistaken idea come from?" Jari asked.
"Not a clue where that came from and I'm kinda thinking that the guy that said anything beyond the Mid Rim wasn't worth bothering with hadn't had any proper idea of what's out there. I tried to tell him that there are some planets out there with really beautiful scenery but he said he could get all the beautiful scenery right here on Coruscant."

"Beautiful scenery on this city planet?, where they hiding it?  Sounds like he's a confirmed 'Ground Hog', kinda makes you wonder if he's ever been very far offworld."

"It does at that, if he has been out of this star system, I doubt he's been as far as the Inner Rim. If someone ever got him offworld and out where worlds still have natural areas that haven't been plated or durocreted over, he might actually learn something about other worlds. On the subject of worlds, how much longer beyond tomorrow are we going to be on this one? I've been invited to have a look at some artifacts recovered from a recent visit to our part of the galaxy."

"We'll be here for another day or two, since we're getting all the air pressure sensors replaced since Trident's hull number falls in the group that had some sensors with high failure rates, mostly in the cargo bay but the lot of them are getting replaced with the current versions through the entire ship."
"That will give Munchie one less thing to bother with, which will leave more time for other stuff."
"Speaking of time, Let's see what time it is" Jari pulled out her chrono and checks it. "Hmm, after midnight, I think it's time we call it a night and headed back to the hotel."
"No complaints here, except from my feet, they're saying I been on them too long."
"I'm getting the same from mine. Let's go"

Next morning, after checking out of the hotel and returning to the ship, ,Jari and Miki got everything put away from the little shopping trip they had made, they had some lunch then made the hop over to the fighter base, which was far enough away from the starport so the fighters could take off at anytime without messing up civil flight patterns.

After getting landing clearance and directions to the Rouges' part of the base, Jari landed Trident and shut down the drives. After lowering the rear ramp she was met by one of the senior techs, "Hi there, Nice looking ship, what can we do for you?" he asked.
"Thanks, I'm with Head Arms, here to deliver new sidearms for the squadron. Is the Weapons Officer or some one handling that duty around?"
"No. Sorry, everyone with rank is out on a freighter rescue mission, I don't suppose a senior non com could take delivery?"
"I'm afraid not, requirements say that weapons used by officers must be delivered to one, after that whoever is in charge of personal weapons can take care of them."

"Well, then you'll have to wait til they get back. I can direct you to a parking spot where you can stay until they return."
"That would be a good idea since I think we'd be in the way of returning fighters sitting here." Jari returned to the flight deck and Miki used the ground com to help with getting he ship into the 'parking' spot and out of the way of returning fighters.