RPlog:Second Battle of Mon Calamari, First Assault

 The Imperial Fleet exited hyperspace just outside Mon Calamari's gravity well. The task force, under the command of Danik Kreldin, consisted of three Imperator Mark II-class Star Destroyers, with the "Conqueror" at the front, and numerous support vessels, including Marauders, Carracks, Lancers and Corvettes. Danik Kreldin stood on the bridge of the Conqueror, commanded by Captain Brencis, standing at the front of the bridge by the windows so he could closely observe the battle. "Dispatch all fighters and bombers. Our target is the ship yards. The fighters will form a screen around the bombers and protect them from rebel starfighters," Danik said, issuing his orders to the crew. From the hangar bays of the various ships in the Imperial task force took off the hundreds of Imperial starfighters and bombers from dozens of squadrons. They fell into formation, with the fighters forming a protecting layer around the bombers as they shifted their course towards the Republic shipyards.

 Dylan settles back in the seat of War Shrike 1 as the Conqueror makes its final preperations to pull itself from jump, the planet of Mon Calamari soon to linger before them. Their work, the scouting mission that had taken place earlier this week, had all lead to this moment. As the fleet exits hyperspace, the orders were given and the squadrons began to exit the fighter hangers of the I2SD. The ion engines of the MKII Interceptor shriek to life, lifting the fighter from the durasteel pad. "War Shrike's, we are to protect the bombers at all costs, lets give the rebels hell." Dylan grumbles into his com as his ship juts forward, leaving the bay and entering the vacuum of space. Eyes peering out from behind a menacing black visor, Dylan's hands remain steady, forming up with the rest of his squadron, directing his ship along the left of the scimitars. Dropping the throttle forward, the Interceptor is pushed faster into attack speed, Dylan's eyes falling quickly to the panel in front of him. All systems, for the time being, remained in the green, the HUD swarming with dots, each representing a ship for either side.

 Calamari, stronghold of the Republic Fleet. Spread out across the sector are approximately fifty capital-scale vessels whose task it is to monitor and defend the shipyards and the vulnerable ocean world. After the loss of Corellia, Chandrila, Bothawui and countless other planets that had bowed to Imperial control in exchange for the plague vaccine, keeping Calamari under Republic control is imperative to say the very least.

As the Imperial vessels suddenly blink into existence in the middle of the sector, the bridges of countless Republic ships erupt into a flurry of activity, the NRSD Crusader no exception as a counter-attack is launched and ships disgorge their starfighter complements to combat the menace headed for the shipyards. This is a battle that cannot be lost.

 SF-1608 poses: The A-wings of Falcon Squadron emerge from the Crusader's landing bay raggedly, such rapid scrambles not allowing for any sort of neat formation. They settle into what wingpairs they can, circling for a moment to allow sleepy pilots one more moment before they enter combat, and then accelerate towards the Imperial forces. Falcon One leads them, in its cockpit Falcon's commanding officer, Evir Yissik. He lifts his hand from the throttle to buckle the chin strap of his flight helmet, and then steels himself for battle.))

 SF-5085 poses: War Shrike Squadron, among dozens of other Imperial squadrons fly cover for the Scimitars, opening fire on Rebel fighters as soon as they begin to emerge from their respective figher bays. "Stay close by, War Shrike 2." he mutters after flipping his com system again, the crackle of static sounding shortly after before a silence falls over the cockpit once again. Looking to his HUD, green dots swarm all around, friendly ships, red beginning to swarm in equal numbers. Pulling the ship hard to the left, the Interceptor fires off several shots at oncoming ships before falling back into position. Despite his urges of engaging the enemy, his overall goal was to protect the bombers.))

 The Imperial Fleet, after dispatching its contingent of fighters, accelerated towards the incoming rebel fleet, their shields turning up and their weapon systems going active. The three Star Destroyers led the formation as the smaller support vessels pulled up around them to act as cover. "We'll engage their fleet at point-blank. We're outnumbered, but we still have the advantage in firepower and strength. Brace yourselves," said Danik, sitting himself down in the commander's seat near the view port.

Meanwhile, the Scimitar and TIE bombers, about fifty altogether, began their drive towards the shipyards. Led by Captain Jet Farx, the group of bombers primed their missiles and started up their shields as the distance to the shipyards closed up. The Imperial fighter screen formed up around the bombers, shielding the bombers as they began their attack run.

 SF-8352 poses: Cadet Latar Zaff has seen alot of Imperial combat lately, but nothing like this. He steers his X-Wing, Ghost 6, out of the hangar bay and follows along with the rest of his squadron. He taps on his console alot, checking that all of his systems are ready and that his shields are a full. The red and grey astromech attached to his ship beeps as the scanners begin showing large amounts of TIE fighters. The cadet echoes of comm, "This is Cadet 'CYA' Latar Zaff, Ghost 6 is ready to engage targets. Awaiting orders." He steers closer and closer to the Imperial Squadrons and cannot help being nervous. Heavy breathing and alot of sweat. He just has to remember that when his shields go down, he MUST pull out. Hopefully since they are running at full, they won't go down as easy as they did when they did the attack on the Imperial Scimitars. ))

 It isn't until late that Andra manages to rush back to the Crusader, a little more flustered than usual as she slides into the empty hanger, out of breath, and requests her ship from the Dock Officer. She is none too happy with being called away from her only day off, but as she checks her ship and climbs into the cockpit, she reminds herself that her spending money comes from her job - this job. "Thanks!" she shouts to the Dock Officer before taking off into the vast, star-splattered sky. Glancing down at her scanner, she grimaces when she sees the number of forces present. "Well, damn," she mutters under her breath, quickly checking her computer - satisfactory - before careening over to the other Republic ships. "Falcon 8, checking in."

 SF-9348 poses: It's a good thing that her squadron was already out and about flying training exercises, because the arrival of the Imperials, while not entirely unexpected given their micro-incursion into the system a few days ago for the purposes of reconnaissance, is so sudden that it demands an equally rapid response. Because of the boldness of the attack and the accompanying proximity of their ships to the world below (the shipyards being not far removed from the planet itself), the Republic starfighters are indeed engaged in a race against time to destroy the Imperial bombers set on obliterating the shipyards. "Oh it's THEM," Cricket bleeps excitedly at Johanna from where he sits in his droid socket, his dome swiveling around to take in the sight of three X-wings behind his master's ship, "I bet they're going to die today. Today is a good day to die. Don't you think?" Johanna doesn't answer him of course, not wishing to encourage her homicidal astromech in any of his evil plans to either kill her squad members, or the Imperials. Besides, she's busy ordering her other pilots to focus on the bombers and engage the Imperial fighters only as a secondary objective. Cricket finds this insulting and notes something in his ungodly binary to the effect of all hope being lost anyway, and the Imperial intrusion being a welcome diversion. Wait. Maybe not. Are those really three star destroyers?))

 SF-5085 poses: The MKII Interceptors that make up War Shrike Squadron stay in formation, not faultering as X-Wings attack, their intent of taking out the bombers clearly shown. Moving to his com system once again, "War Shrike squadron, engage the X-Wings, if they were allowed to unleash their torps on the Scims, the mission would be much more short lived than they had planned. Breaking from formation as he orders the other pilots to do so, Dylan barrel rolls into the oncoming laserfire, narrowling escaping several shots. Lining up his shot and glancing to the reticle, he fires off several shots, blasts of green energy erupting and shrieking into the depths of space towards the enemy.))

 The Imperial bombers remain in their formation on the approach vector towards the shipyards. "Keep us covered. We're about to launch the first salvo," Farx said into the Imperial channel. "Fire!" They were finally in firing range to hit the shipyards, thus Captain Farx gave the order. From the Scimitars and TIE bombers, missiles from the first salvo shot out from their launchers through space and towards the shipyards. The Imperial fighter screen had been effective so far, keeping the rebel X-wings and A-wings away from the bombers so far. The bomber's lucky may change soon, though, if the fighters fail to do their job. They could not worry about that, though; unloading their missiles on the shipyards were their first priority. As the first salvo approached the shipyards, the bombers prepared for their second salvo...

 SF-8352 poses: The cadet sighs not expecting any action quite yet. Boy was he wrong. The TIE that fired on him caught him by surprise. He attemps to move toward the enemy by quickly rolling, but the fire still hit his shields. "Are we okay, man?" He says to the astromech. He beeps and squeaks most likely indicating yes. Latar checks his shields before placing his finger on the trigger for his proton torpedo cannons. He lowers his targeting shield zooming toward the TIE. When he recieves the green flash and repeditive beep he taps the trigger sending a torpedo into the darkness of space, leaving a light cyan tail as his heads for the target that fired at Ghost 6. ))

 SF-9348 poses: "Cricket," Johanna begins in a tone that brooks no opposition from her otherwise recalcitrant astromech, "Ignore the Interceptors and assign a group of six bombers odd numbers, starting from one. Filter out everything else." The volume of objects registering with the ship suddenly grows more manageable and Cricket hoots enthusiastically as the targeting computer acquires the first ship. While the Imperials have been able to unleash a round of damage, they won't get much more done if the Republic has anything to say about it. "You've got him," the droid announces unnecessarily, "What are you waiting for!" As if obliging the demands of her inorganic counterpart, the pilot depresses the firing button and unleashes a barrage of laser fire at the bomber.))

 SF-5085 poses: War Shrike 1 rolls downward and towards the X-Wing, the torpedo shooting by overhead. *click* "Keep at it, War Shrike, the more torps they waste firing at us, the less they have to throw at the Conqueror." Why anywone would think to shoot the less accurate torpedo at the fast moving Interceptor was beyond Dylan, though if their perogative was to waste resources and allow the Imperial pilots to fly another day, so be it. Stabalizing his ship, Dylan smiles behind his black suit, lining up his reticle on another X-Wing, perhaps the one that he had attacked before. Squeezing on the controls another burst of energy fires off into space.))

 SF-8352 poses: Latar finds the astromech beeping like crazy at him. The sensors pick up on more laser fire. The cadet curses as his proton torpedo misses. He checks his shields and doesn't want to risk getting pulled out of the fight just yet. He rolls away from the TIE and it's fire. Hopefully this will draw the fighter away from the bombers and give the others a chance at hitting them. He attempts to line his ship up, but he can't prepare it for an attack on the TIE just yet. ))

 One lucky X-wing manages to get through the fighter screen that had been placed around the Imperial bombers. Six bombers fell victim to the X-wing's incredible piloting skills, causing Captain Farx to begin shouting for the fighters to get that one off their back. Several of the fighters disengage from other engagements and begin assaulting Johanna's X-wing.

Meanwhile, the missiles from the first salvo impact against the shields of the shipyards as the second salvo is launched. Save for a few incidents, the Imperial bombers had managed to get through this mostly unscathed, thanks to the tough Imperial fighter screen.

The Imperial fleet, however, had finally begun their battle with the Republic capital ships. The Conqueror, Subjugator II, and the Tormentor, the three Star Destroyers, backed up by the numerous support vessels, duke it out with the far more numerous Republic ships, but the Imperial fleet holds its own for now. "Give me a full broadside attack on the Crusader," Danik said, issuing his orders from the bridge of the Conqueror. "Don't let up."

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: Inside his cockpit, Enb'Zik looks beyond please as he watches his torpedoes impact on and destroy one of the bombers, but as his R2 unit chastizes him again, he rolls his fighter toward the Mark II that's decided to take its revenge on him. "Oh, that's how it's going to be? Okay, then." This guy is persistent, and he's starting to get on Zik's nerves a bit. Ikihsa checks his range, flying hot and heavy, and makes sure his lasers are still on dual fire. He pulls the trigger.

He's going to have to be more careful now, he realizes. "I know, Shorty," Ikihsa says, his voice getting a little tight as he simultaneously checks the damage, "It's just a scratch. See if you can do something about the shields, will you?" The droid makes a mournful sound. "What do you mean the generator's gone? Completely?" Zik double-checks his damage display, "Well, son of a Shistavanen female." So much for getting his shields back.))

<SPACE> As the Conqueror moves towards the Crusader to fire upon the RepSD with most of its terrible weapons, the rest of the Fleet is engaged in similarly fierce combat. A full-scale battle has erupted over Calamari and no effort is being spared on the part of the Imperials to destroy the shipyards and wreak considerable havoc on the larger vessels. The Crusader's shields hold up under the assault, but just barely, before the Republic ship returns the favor, sending an unforgiving wall of fire at the Conqueror.

Parts of the shipyards begin to disintegrate under the bombs of the Imperials, sprays of vaporized alloy marking space with a fine mist as yet other portions melt and are reduced to slag. If the Republic wants anything to be left over for them to salvage, they had better hurry.

<COMBAT> SF-9348 poses: "Acquire seven." Another burst of fire brings down the third bomber before it's time to move on to the next target. The third had proven a hard-nosed thing, requiring more than the expected number of attacks to destroy. "Acquire nine. Cricket, repopulate the list with the next three bombers." As the bombers are destroyed, the fighters wise up to Johanna's shenanigans and decide that a full-on attack of her ship is called for. "OH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE," Cricket wails, "AND IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU STUPID WORTHLESS HUMAN I HATE YOU." Instead of replying to the heap of evil and metal however, the pilot merely routs power into the aft shields should the Imperials decide to try and pop her one up a turbo generator or two. Having engines DIE HORRIBLE DEATHS isn't Johanna's idea of a good time.))

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: Zik's being careful now. As he releases his torrent of red in the face of the oncoming squint, the Sullustan quickly throws his X-wing into a tight, rolling dive. The enemy's fire comes close enough to make Shorty scream behind him, but the shots miss. And Ikihsa has a new shot lined up. Switching from cannons back to torpedoes, he jukes out of the way of a stray bolt and waits for a lock on another of the bombers targeting the shipyards. "Come on," he whispers to the computer. The reticule goes red, and he unleashes twin projectiles enveloped in cyan light before pulling back on the stick and throwing the X-wing into an Immelman to reengage his dauntless enemy.))

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Seeing his shots miss he frowns slightly, but doesn't let it worry him too much, "I can get him," is Thralo's mantra. He keeps himself in line with the X-wing, not letting it shake him, and again pulls the trigger hard.))

<SPACE> A new threat flits across the pilot's HUD as Syyvos turns his attention away from the bombers and cycles through a list of possible targets -- and it is with barely hidden concern that he notices the spectacular prowess of one particular Interceptor, who unlike his counterparts seems quite good indeed at his job. "Arfour, I want fifty percent of laser power to engines -- on my mark -- " The targeting reticule abruptly switches from a large red square to a green dot roving outside a red circle, and Rintari brings his ship into position as the dot finds its mark -- tone --

Rogue Six shudders briefly as twin torpedoes speed towards their target.

<SPACE> "Tormentor, Subjugator, move around and encircle the Crusader! Pour all energy into the port side shields and turbolasers!" Danik shouted over the commotion in the bridge, watching as the space filled up with green and red turbolaser fire. The Crusader's turbolasers, not as powerful or numerous as the heavy turbolasers on the Conqueror and its two sister ships, still packed quite a punch, and the shields on the Conqueror felt it, but held for now. Meanwhile, the other aspects of the Imperial fleet engaged the rest of the Republic fleet, some of the more powerful ships meeting success, while some were forced to retreat, or were destroyed.

The missiles continued to hit the shipyards, but the bomber's numbers were beginning to thin gradually. Fortunately, the TIEs had managed to drive away the one X-wing that had been causing Farx quite a headache, but now Y-wings and B-wings were en route. "Listen up. Dark Sword, break off from your attack run and engage the Y and B-wings. Keep them off the rest of us. The fighters are having hard enough time," Farx said, and then heard a distress signal from a very close fighter, War Shrike 4. "I can only spare one ship, War Shrike 4, sorry," Farx said, and then ordered Immobilizer Five to break off from the shipyard run to assist War Shrike 4.

Immobilizer 5, very close to the Rogue and War Shrike, was able to get a lock-on faster than usual and opened fire without hesitation to assist his damaged comrade.

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: As the War Shrike fighter fires on him again, Enb'Zik is still straightening his X-wing's course out onto an attack vector. The slow banking is all he needs to evade the shots from the distance he's at, but the ships close quickly. At a little distance, Zik pulls the trigger on another torpedo without having time to get a lock. Within only a few more seconds, he's at almost point-blank range with his persecutor. His cockpit flashes red as two of his cannons sail another blast of energy at the opponent. And then, he's past again, the four ion engines of his fighter whistling through space like the winds through the crystal castles of the planet Vortex.

Ikihsa checks his scanners - the battle has taken him away from Rapier and Wonderboy, but as the latter's voice crackles over the comm, a look of relief hits the Sullustan's milky expression. He's glad the kid got his comms back.

A crashing sound interrupts his thoughts as his X-wing takes fire. "What the hell?!" He's been engaged by another fighter. A Scimitar. "Aww, dammit. Not you!" He apparently recognizes the ship's signature. This is getting a little messier than he'd like at this point.))

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Angry that again the X-wing had dodged his fire he didn't act fast enough and again the red bolts crashed into his already damaged ship. Warning lights flashed loudly, but Thralo ignored them, "I can get him!" His help had arrived and hopefully that would be enough. "Last shot," he thought, and emerald bolts flew from his Interceptor.))

<COMBAT> SF-9348 poses: And so down the list they go, Johanna and Cricket, attempting to do their part in winnowing the Imperial menace. They fulfill their role with varying degrees of success, the fighters proving a considerable distraction that must be dealt with before the bombers can be the focus of their energies once more. "WHAT THE KARK," the astromech shrieks as the shields shimmer under the loving attentions of the Imperials, "WATCH YOUR FAT ARSE, JOHANNA, OR BAZIL IS GOING TO KILL YOU IF I DIE." The fact that Cricket says nothing of his new master's possible death isn't anything shocking or newsworthy, he's a selfish little bugger with no intention of making any sacrifices for the greater good.

Immobilizer Five's ministrations towards Rogue Nine are not lost on Cricket, who also takes this opportunity to remind Johanna that her squadmate is being wailed on. "I see it. Cricket, shut up for a second and tag five fighters the way you did the bombers. Start with that fool molesting Zik." Ah, yes. Time to access the torpedoes! Ere long a warhead is ripping through space, headed for the offending ship.))

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: That's it. Enb'Zik doesn't have time to celebrate or wonder just how tough those Mark II hulls ARE as his unguided torpedo collides with the enemy TIE but somehow doesn't destroy it. He's too busy juking crazily to dodge the incoming fire of the fighter/bomber that's managed to bounce him. "This is Rogue Nine! I've picked up a Scimitar. I could use an assist!" he calls to anyone who might be listening and close enough to help. More fire from the Interceptor is easily evaded, though, but it seems more by accident than anything else as Ikihsa's focus is now drawn away from the easier of his two assailants. It's also drawn away from the TIE Bombers, and this time, he gets no shot off on the torpedo-carrying scourge of bombers.

A series of whistles sounds from the droid socket, and Ikihsa breaks right but only to see Johanna's missile sail far, far wide of his pursuer. "Great Maker," Ikihsa's eyes go wide, "That can't possibly be a human flying that thing!"))

<SPACE> It was almost as if the Force itself pulled Immobilizer Five out of harm's way, and Johanna's torpedo went missing by a long shot. The pilot honestly didn't know what to make of it, but he intended to follow up on it. The one that had fired at him was still very far away, and he didn't feel like wasting his ammunition. Thus, he chose to stick to his original target, the one who had been picking on poor War Shrike 4, who was near destruction. Despite his pleas for the other pilot to retreat, War Shrike 4 remained in the fight. He was crazy! Nevertheless, he had to help him, and so, once the lock-on was acquired, the missile was fired and went sailing towards Rogue 9.

The other half of the battle, however, was proceeding as usual; the shields on the Conqueror were taking a beating, and were beginning to buckle, but the Tormentor and the Subjugator II, which had begun to encircle the Crusader, helped to relieve some of the pressure off the Conqueror. "Aim for the shield batteries. I won't let the Crusader escape me for a second time, understood?" Danik shouted, bashing his fist into his arm rest.

Dark Sword Squadron, which had broken off from the main attack group, begun their fight with the B and Y wings which had been sent to slow down the bombers. The main bomber group, however, unleashed yet another salvo from their missile launchers towards the shipyards.

<COMBAT> SF-9348 poses: What the... WHAT? But how was THAT possible? The HUD had flashed red, the torpedo sent out after a lock had been established on the Scimitar... unwittingly, Johanna's thoughts echo Zik's. It can't possibly be a human flying that thing. Maybe a droid of sorts? A sith creation of her brother's? Possible. "Oh, my MAKER. YOU FAIL AT LIFE, JOHANNA!" Cricket shrieks irately as the virtual wake of the warhead simply disappears into space instead of terminating in a pretty, pretty spray. "Maybe," the pilot notes, a very sour note having crept into her voice after such repeated abuse, "Keep him at one. We're going for him again." Uh oh. Is that really a good idea? There are BOMBERS to attend to, after all, but just this once she cannot resist taking another crack at that... thing in the Imperial ship.))

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Thralo was about to turn and limp back to the Conqueror, but the X-wing decided to turn away from his fire. Opposed to anger, he was relieved, that meant he could take another shot before he left. He brought his beat up Interceptor back to bear and fired relentlessly at the X-wing.))

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: Inside his cockpit, Enb'Zik breathes a sigh of relief as he manages to somehow evade a missile that had locked in on him. Beneath his helmet, he feels a trickle of sweat run down his forehead, between his eyes to tickle his nose. And he's from a HOT planet. A quick search of the scanners finds SF-6331 firing at him. AGAIN. Does this guy ever give up?? Grinding his teeth together, Ikihsa is bound and determined to get at least one of these two attackers off of him. Again too close for torpedoes, and needing to reserve his supply for those bombers as soon as he can get back to them, Enb'Zik bears down on the incoming Mark II and opens fire with his cannons.))

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Seeing his laser fire miss the mark, and the X-wing turn to face him once again, Thralo knew he was out of the game. He quickly turned and belted the fighter into top gear, well the fastest the heavily beaten Interceptor -could- go, and luckily evaded the torpedo's fired at him. He would get this one another day.))

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: Better, Ikihsa decides. Shorty is whistling and chattering something in his ear, but the Sullustan has other priorities. He rolls his X-wing to port and reorients the snub, diving back toward another trio of TIE bombers en route to the shipyards. His thumb switches weapons again, such that he's almost not even thinking about it. Feathering his firing mode from dual to single, he flies toward the bomber group and waits for a lock. The tone sounds, and he fires. One, two, three, four, five, he counts off, then fires again at the same target.

Tarrying for the lock has brought Rogue 9 within close range of one of the Imperial capital ships now, and he pulls up and skims along its hull with his enemy in hot pursuit. At this range from the Cap, Ikihsa quads his lasers and opens fire, doing little damage with them but more than would happen without them.

Streaking past the terminus of the ship, then, he rolls away from it, fires twice at a TIE that inadvertently crosses his path, and finds himself tantalizingly close to Darksword One. What a night, he thinks, as he exchanges targets, flips back to dual fire mode, and lights up the starfield in the Scimitar's wake. When he pulls off, he realizes War Shrike 4 is nowhere in his vicinity.))

<SPACE> The Crusader is taking a beating, but it's a sturdy vessel and as it maneuvers in the lumbering capital-ship battle raging over Calamari, it fires again upon the larger Conqueror. Does the crew actually think it's going to win this showdown?

Meanwhile the shipyards are suffering fewer direct hits, the Republic starfighters having cleaned house quite respectably. What's damaged is damaged, but it doesn't look like there will be a total loss this evening, though reconstruction will be slow and expensive for the already beleaguered NR. A whole other confrontation looms large on the horizon with the Crusader requiring assistance if it is to survive.

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Thralo weaved his battered fighter through the crossfire and back to the Conqueror, and called out on his comm, "Conqueror, I'm coming in hot, it isn't going to be an easy landing."))

<SPACE> Immobilizer 5's shields were almost gone. -Two- torpedo hits and they were still functional. The Force was certainly with him tonight. Rogue 9 was still closer than the other pesky rebel, so he decided to focus only on that one for the time being. Firing off another missile following the lock-on, he then dived to avoid incoming fire from an A-wing that had taken a liking to him.

The three Star Destroyers continued to pump heavy turbolaser fire into the Crusader as the rest of the fleet battle intensifies, with more and more Imperial and Republic ships disintergrating under overwhelming enemy fire. Danik, however, was unwilling to relent. He wanted to see the Crusader flying no more.

Meanwhile, the bombers, having lost a lot of its numbers through rebel attacks, continued to launch more missiles at the hurting shipyards, though it would appear that the shipyards were tougher than previously thought..still, Kreldin wasn't about to back out of this fight yet.

<SPACE> Falcon 5 screams through space towards a nearby group of fightercraft. He was the frontrunner of a small group of reinforcements coming from the NRSD Crusader after hearing the call over the intercom. 'It wouldn't have taken so long if those damn mechanics knew what they were doing,' he thinks to himself. Despite the situation, Ridge grins slightly, as he is the frontrunner of the reinforcements, his A-wing seeming to go faster than all the other fighters. As he nears a group, he checks his sensors, noting the status of the trio of fighters before him. Ghost 6 seemed to have taken considerable damage so far, and the War Shrike hadn't been scratched. "Well we'll soon change that," he says to the cockpit of Falcon 5. Still a fair distance off, Ridge lets a few lasers fly towards the War Shrike, hoping to surprise it or do something to give the others a chance at hitting it. A-wing versus Interceptor. "This should be fun," he grins to himself.

<SENSORS> SF-8001 Falcon 5 screams through space towards a nearby group of fightercraft. He was the frontrunner of a small group of reinforcements coming from the NRSD Crusader after hearing the call over the intercom. 'It wouldn't have taken so long if those damn mechanics knew what they were doing,' he thinks to himself. Despite the situation, Ridge grins slightly, as he is the frontrunner of the reinforcements, his A-wing seeming to go faster than all the other fighters. As he nears a group, he checks his sensors, noting the status of the trio of fighters before him. Ghost 6 seemed to have taken considerable damage so far, and the War Shrike hadn't been scratched. "Well we'll soon change that," he says to the cockpit of Falcon 5. Still a fair distance off, Ridge lets a few lasers fly towards the War Shrike, hoping to surprise it or do something to give the others a chance at hitting it. A-wing versus Interceptor. "This should be fun," he grins to himself.

<COMBAT> SF-6331 poses: Thralo watched the fighter bay open and he tried to lose some of his speed. It was working, but with so much damage, not very well. He went through the bay doors and reversed his repulors in a great attempt not to smash into the back wall. Techs and pilots dove out of the way as the Interceptor came screeching through, coming to a stop mere meters from the bay wall. Thralo breathed a sigh of relief and brought it uneasily to mount. The tech's were going to hate him for this.))

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The insistent sound of alarms quickly reminds Enb'Zik that this battle is NOT over. Even as he miraculously manages to tag the most evasive Scimitar in the entire Imperial fleet from over a hundred clicks out, the oncoming fighter is gaining a scanner lock on him. Enb'Zik shoves his stick forward and throws it to starboard, diving and rolling out of the missile's path. Shorty whibbles out a number of notes, but again, Ikihsa is too busy piloting to read his translator - definitely need something to render the droid's sound into audible words.

The bombers, Zik. Get the bombers. Hitting the throttle to put as much distance between himself and Darksword One, Ikihsa begins working on another firing solution for the next wave of Imperial dupes.))

<COMBAT> SF-9348 poses: And it's still not dead, not even after two direct hits with torpedoes courtesy Rogues Nine and One. What is with that thing? "Maybe it's evil," Cricket idly theorizes as he ponders the effects of rapid decompression on human physiology, wondering how long it would take for the whole crew of the Crusader to die if a giant gaping hole was ripped into the side of the RepSD, "Yes. I think it is." Johanna offers a snort of amusement at her droid's assessment of the situation. "That's real deep, Cricket. Now help me vape this guy." A good thing that the number of bombers still making runs on the shipyards has been halved many times over, leaving only a few stray ships to try and inflict damage. They're not safe from continued assault though, the starfighters of the Republic intent on seeing every last one obliterated.))

<SPACE> Kreldin mumbles, watching the sensor display as the number of bombers begin to diminish. "Where the hell is the fighter support? I don't give a damn about those rebel fighters, protect the bombers! If that station doesn't go in flames, I'll have your head!" Danik shouts into the comlink from his command seat. "And why isn't the Crusader dead yet? Dark Sword Squadron, break off from your engagement with those rebel bombers and launch a bombing run on the Crusader's hull. Tormentor and Subjugator, aim for the Crusader's engines; we're taking her down once and for all. I want another full broadside!" The three Imperial Star Destroyers continue to encircle and pummel the Crusader with their heavy turbolasers, while the bombers of Dark Sword Squadron, having now broken off from their prior engagement, launch their missiles towards the Crusader.

The main bomber group, if you could call it the "main group" now, were still attacking the shipyards, despite their heavy losses. But, due to Kreldin's orders, more and more fighters began to protect the bombers than before, saving some of the bombers from death to give them some more time. Maybe, just maybe, they can still pull this off...

Immobilizer 5, the luckiest pilot of them all tonight, was still under attack by a constant barrage of torpedoes from various fighters, but he still holding. Rogue 9 continued to elude him, despite constant attacks, but the pilot did not relent; one more missile was launched towards the X-wing.

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: Rogue 9 launches two more pairs of missiles toward the Imperial bombers, each one five seconds after its predecessor. There's a warning sounding in the Sullustan's ear, but he ignores it. If he can just get those two dupes before they can launch their payload.... One of them explodes suddenly in a bright fireball, impacted by both of the missiles launched at it. The third missle strikes the second bomber, but the fourth misses. It becomes a moot point. Its shields weakened, the second bomber flies into the fireball of the first and spins out of control, not exploding, but no longer a part of the fight.


 * WHAM!!* Zik is thrown forward in his shockchair but caught by the webbing as Shorty goes ballistic with complaints. The warning. Ikihsa violently spins his fighter away from further attack and checks his vitals. "I've picked up that Scimitar again, One." A report comes across his screen, and his heart sinks, "Blast it all! I've lost maneuvering thrusters on my left wing, dorsal AND ventral. I'm hobbled -and- I'm out of torpedoes." He doesn't speak the obvious solution - he doesn't WANT to leave this fight.))

<COMBAT> SF-9348 poses: "I think Zik will be the one to die tonight," Cricket bleeps, neither celebrating nor lamenting the prospect of a vaporized Sullustan, "He's suffered damage."

Now, normally Johanna takes her astromech's comments in stride. He can't help himself, really, he was built to be a pain in the arse and cause grief and terrorize techs. But the manner in which he coolly mentions the possibility of Zik's death is enough to infuriate his master. "Sit tight Nine, I'm on it," Johanna reassures her friend before hollering a terrible swearword at Cricket, who responds with one of his own before sulking.

Yeah. She's going to have to leave this particular R2 behind for the next sortie, if there ever IS a next one for any of them. That capital ship battle is looking rather ugly for the Crusader as the NR flagship is wailed on by three star destroyers. One could almost think the Imperial in charge of this maneuver had something personal against the Crusty!

"It's away, but is it going to hit the Imperial? I doubt it. You're too far off," the wayward droid offers in lieu of statistical analysis after yet another torpedo is sent towards the Scimitar.))

<SPACE> Smoke pours out of the tiny grey figure in space. The War Shrike 6 begins to spin wildly out of control. The exhausted pilot trys his best to wrestle the ship into a steady flight pattern but doesn't have time before more warnings flash all throughout the wrecked cockpit. Elddid slams on the eject button with his fist and is launched into space only too soon as more enemy fire tears through the tattered ship. The TIE begins to break apart and then explodes into many tiny fragments left to float through the endless black of space. Elddid watches helplessly as the pieces of scrap metal that were only a few moments ago a ship drift apart. He flips on his distress beacon and does the only thing he can do. Hope and wait.

<SPACE> Danik did indeed have a personal vendetta against the Crusader. It had escaped him before, when he was -so- close to destroying it. He promised himself to never let that happen again. "Keep up the attack. The Crusader is hurt and on its way. Aim for vital spots. Keep up the good work, bombers," Danik said, tapping his foot. "Captain Brencis, status report!" he asked, turning his head towards the captain. "The shields are still holding, sir, but won't last through another full barrage. Our bomber group has been nearly wiped out, and besides the Star Destroyers, most of our fleet has been heavily damaged." Danik sighs, leaning back in his seat. So, he failed to destroy the shipyards. He didn't like failure. He wasn't use to it. Cracking his neck, Danik ordered all remaining bombers to break off from their attack run on the shipyard, as it was a useless cause, and to reinforce Dark Sword Squadron in bombing the Crusader into hell.

Immobilizer 5, however, ignored the orders to attack the Crusader. His fight was with these two Rogues. His shields were finally gone, but he had a ton of hull left, and he intended to stay here until the bitter end. Doing some more maneuvering, the pilot put himself in a line of fire to attack Rogue 9, and took the shot.

<SPACE> Two bickering, old pilots sit in the cockpit of the Imperial corvette, guiding it through the battle like it was just a simple trip. "What do you mean we're going to that distress signal?! It's so far away!" shouted the co-pilot at the pilot, throwing his fists down into the console. "We'll be killed before we arrive!"

"Screw you! We're going to the distress signal. Could be someone important, ya know? How would that look on our report, eh? Think about it! Besides, I'm the captain of his bird, so shut up," the pilot said, guiding his corvette towards the distress signal.

<COMBAT> SF-5277 poses: "Nice shot, Rogue One. Thank you!" Enb'Zik's gratitude is evident in his voice, but the wickedly piloted Scimitar is still on him. Finding another missile launched in his wake, the Sullustan starts to dive but finds his X-wing sluggish without the maneuvering thrusters. Setting his jaw, Enb'Zik throws power into his engines and forces the stick forward. Without the thrusters, though, the X-wing lists horribly, yawing to the left. It quite possibly saves him. The accidental maneuver pushes Rogue 9 out of the way of the projectile weapon, which sails past.

Ikihsa breathes what must be the hundredth sigh of relief that night and pulls his X-wing to starboard, trying to regain control. Maybe he can take some of those bombers out with his cannons. The ship has trouble responding, though.

"Shorty, what's the status on those thrusters? Any chance of repair?" The droid blats a rather pointed answer, directing the Sullustan's attention past his canopy to the battered wing. "No, I guess there isn't," he finally admits. With a sigh, he reaches for the comm, "One, this is Jailbird. I'm out of options. Request permission to bug out and land, over." The defeat in Enb'Zik's voice sounds as bitter as it tastes.))

<SPACE> Rintari's lack of communications had done very little to impede his offensive capabilities, but now as he finally breaks away from the fleeing Interceptor to survey the rest of the combat he realizes just how preciarious the Republic position actually is -- for though the shipyards are safe, the Crusader most certainly is not, something that he'd have been made aware about if not for the failed comlink still screeching like some electronic banshee by his shoulder where it has fallen. Coolly, the pilot closes his S-foils and transfers every ounce of available power to his engines; simultaneously rocking his wings as a signal for the other Rogues in the area, he races towards the beleaguered Republic Star Destroyer and the flights of TIE Bombers and Scimitars assaulting it from every which way.

<SPACE> The battle with the Interceptor finished, 1st Lieutenant Archilles checks over his scanner to look for more red blips. A look of horror passes quickly over his face as he notices the bombers making their run on the Crusader. Turning his fighter quickly, he moves back towards where he had entered the fight, his sights set on the Scimitar Squadron bombing the Crusader. Turning on his radio, he issues some quick commands while studying his scanner more thoroughly. *click* "This is Falcon 5, commanding reinforcements to the Crusader. Falcon 2nd Flight, on my wing. Rogue 6, gather a flight of X-wings and move towards the Crusader. Face them head on, shooting with torpedoes, my flight will come from behind and decimate those bastards." After a moment, his flight forms up, and he screams towards the Crusader, running underneath the length, and circling up to the top, hopefully in a move the Scimitar bombers would not notice. Now behind them, he gives his wing the command to fire, and lights up the void of space with twin laser bolts.

<SPACE> "Looks like Six over there has a bit of a stick up his tailpipe," calls Rogue Seven, his voice tinged with the strain of fending off yet another wave of Interceptors surging back from the shipyards. "Let's see what he's got in store."

"You know better than to say that sorta stuff on the coms, Seven," chides Rogue Eight, though she laughs nonetheless to show that she perhaps isn't as miffed as she ought to seem.

"What? He's not on the air -- he can't hear a thing we're saying. Hold my wing -- we're going in."

The pair of X-Wings fall in line behind Syyvos' speeding fighter in precision formation achieved through long hours of training in and out of simulator; as they approach the plodding TIE Bombers now in the process of making their run, their S-foils open (with surprising synchronicity, considering Syyvos' lack of a functioning) and red-hot laser fire pours forth from their cannons. Two TIE Bombers explode in concentric novas of electricity and fire; a third, sent spiraling out of combat by a burst from Rintari's Six, staggers under the force of one of the Crusader's defensive turbolasers before crashing into its wingman and taking both down in a spray of molten slag.

Four down. A lot to go.

<SPACE> Time and again the few crafts left under Major Aaden Baeyal's command -- the rest sent to help defend the Crusader -- try to box in the meager opposition crafts remaining to harrass them and time and time again the slippery Interceptor pilot manages to avoid the attacks directed his way. Indeed, seconds, first twenty, then forty then a solid minute goes by when no one can get off a clean shot. Laser fire, torpedos, all fly astray, finding nothing but the emptiness of space. But finally the lone A-Wing that has been subjected to barrage after barrage for the past several minutes takes another glancing blow, shields flickering for a moment there but evidently holding firm. "You okay there, Falcon 3?" Rapier asks over the comm, trying to coax as much speed as he can out of his X-Wing but even still finding the battle increasingly leaving him behind. And with more and more of the forces he commands diverted to aid the crafts streaming to rescue the Crusader, he's not left with a whole lot of options but to continue the barrage and hope the young pilot can hang in there. "As soon as the Crusader is out of danger, we'll have reinforcements. Just keep hangin' in there.

Eyes darting back and forth between the sensor array in front of him and the cockpit view, he patiently waits to try and get a lock on the elusive fighter before launching another of his steadily depleting supply of torpedos, trying to force the fighter away from his Wingmate. Rogue 5 shudders with the launch, as the projectile races out ahead of his fighter.

<SPACE> "Sir, rebel fighters have broken off and are engaging the bombers," Brencis said, reporting to Danik. Danik rubbed his chin, pondering his next move. "This battle is proving costly. Order the fleet to pull in here. We'll make our last stand here. Have the fighters keep their bombers and fighters off our backs long enough to make a withdrawal from the system. We won't be leaving yet, though.." Thus, the elements of the Imperial fleet began to pull away from their engagements and move closer to the big fight, which was the three Star Destroyers against the Crusader. They were preparing to make their withdrawal from this system, and they were going to break through the Republic fleet together.

Immobilizer 5, the heroic Scimitar bomber pilot who pulled off miracles before, found his fight taking him to War Shrike 3, as his opponents retreated from him one by one, or simply died. "War Shrike 4, this is Immobilizer 5. I'm coming in to help, over." The scimitar pulled up along the TIE Interceptor, picked out a target on his scoped, and sent a missile screaming towards one of the rebel craft.

<SPACE> "Watch your tail, Eight!" Rogue Seven suddenly jacks his ship backwards and out of his attack run as his HUD detects the remnants of the bomber group's escorts falling on his six, executing a precise reverse backflip that nevertheless does not manage to deflect the dangerous green fire spurting from the two Interceptors that have appeared from out of nowhere. The glancing blow disrupts his concentration and causes his astromech a whole lot of worry, but this is one of the Republic's elite pilots -- and so his 'disrupted' fire is nonetheless sufficient to blow a gaping hole in one of those fighters' starboard solar array, sending the rest of the thing up in flames in the span of a second.

"Good hit, Seven!" Eight has taken his advice and gotten the hell out of dodge, and now she too feathers her trigger -- but jubilation proves far more deadly than any sort of disruption. Rogue Eight's shots go wide and the Interceptor falls on Rintari's tail, intent upon scoring a kill on one of these legendary X-Wings.

Rintari, for the time being, has not been idle; leaving his wingmen to their jobs, he instead focuses his cannons on the lead TIE the next flight over, and a second later it too hauls out of formation before a plasma coil erupts and yet another kill is scored.

<SPACE> With yet another miss under her belt, Andra swings away from the Interceptor, annoyed at her reappearing continual string of misses. Her annoyance dissapates quickly, however, as she glances down at her screen to see another ship at her same coordinates, and her eyes widen as she moves to roll away quickly - but it is too late as the enemy ship opens fire beneath her and strikes her shields, sending her A-wing rolling out of control away. So absorbed is she in regaining control that she doesn't notice the other ship coming in and firing on her, shaking her poor A-wing further.

It takes her a few seconds to get her ship back on track, and she winces when she notices her absent shields on her screen. "Falcon 7 hit, and have taken damage," the young cadet reports over the comm, cringing as she moves to attack her original target - t'would be a shame to leave, especially now, though she grimaces at the hull damage reading on her screen before she lines up with the ship, aims, and fires.

<SPACE> The Corvette piloted by the two bickering Imperials found its way over to the distress signal. "Look at that..floating around. Hah! I wonder if his life support is still working. Ah well, let's haul him and what's left of the ship in. Activate the tractor beam." The tractor beam from the Corvette pulled the pilot into its hangar bay, and the what remained of the Interceptor. Something for the mechanics to handle. As the hangar bay closed back up, the Corvette turned around and began turning back.

<SPACE> Grinning maliciously as his group cuts down another bomber from the back of the group, Ridge pauses to crack his knuckles and congratulate both flights. *click* "This is Falcon 5. Good work, flights. Keep it up, I count 9 Scimitars left. Let's vaporize 'em." *click* Of course, he was not yet aware that Rogue 6 no longer had radio equipment, but that didn't matter. The job was obviously getting done. Bearing down on one of the Scimitars, the Lieutenant pulls the trigger several times, dispatching the unfortunate pilot's craft into an explosion of light and debris. Similarly, the A-wings to his sides were doing the same, two fighters to every Scimitar bomber. In this fashion, the 2nd Flight of Falcon Squadron tore through another two bombers, coming closer and closer to the X-wings coming the opposite direction.

Noticing the three Star Destroyers bearing down on the Crusader, Ridge decides to take matters into his own hands. There was a whole fleet out here, yet nothing was being done to the Star Destroyers. Sending a broad beam to all of the NR fighters in the area, he says over the comm, "This is Falcon 5. The Crusader is taking a heavy beating over here. We need to kill their guns before the Crusader goes down. All B-wings and Y-wings, move towards the Conqueror! You will have an escort momentarily!" The message sent, his flight takes care of yet another Scimitar on the run over the Crusader.

<SPACE> Aren started in surprise as the A-wing he had been hunting for a good part of the battle took a massive hit to its shields. Aren smiled and throttled up a little to keep pace with the small A-wing. Aren hastily checked his sensors to find where the X-wing was and was happy to see it wasn't on his immeadiate six. Yet. Quickly he lined up a good shot and fired at the A-wing once more.

<SPACE> While the concentration of Imperial fire power is not exactly good news for the New Republic Star Destroyer Crusader, it is no massive advantage for the Empire's forces either. Abandonning the assault on the Mon Calamari shipyards means that the entire New Republic fleet can bring it's might to bear on the Empire as well and the Fleet Admiral readjusts the deployment of his forces to try and insure that the beleaguered Republic forces get some relief. Powerful Mon Calamari Cruisers open up with their turbolaser batteries, slamming blast after blast towards the opposition. Rock solid Assault Frigates steam in, adding to the destruction. More nimble but lighter armed line ships like Corvettes and Gunships dart through the melee, taking shots and making the Imperial fighters pay a price when they venture too close. But all too many ships show the signs of damage from the conflict. Scorched hulls and venting gases as they move in to save the New Republic flagship.

Through it all, Major Aaden Baeyal can do little more then listen to the chatter over the comm, giving particular attention to the progress of his Rogue squadron mates, but also to the course of the battle as a whole. And it's far too close a thing to suit Rogue's Executive Officer. Still, his task right now is staying alive and insuring that the lone A-Wing caught under the assault of the few Imperials not attacking the bulk of the fleet does so as well. Not an easy task, given that one of the Scimitar bombers joins the fray, beginning to pelt the speedy but damaged craft with missles. "I copy Three. Hold it together. The Imperials can't stick around much longer," Aaden promises, even as he draws a bead on one of her pursuers yet again, trying to drive them off and let them get back to the main battle.

<SPACE> Whistling through her teeth, Andra rolls quickly after firing - this time, she will take no chances. Her poor A-wing has been hit twice - though still perfectly functioning - and she hardly desires one more to join the others. Stabilizing her ship, she takes another peek at her non-existant shields and hopefully not to be non-existent ship condition as she weaves through the rest of the action, only vaguely listening to reports of attacks on the Crusader. Cruel as it may be, she couldn't be more apathetic about its condition right now - after all, if she didn't make it back alive, there wasn't quite a point to it all. "Copy, Falcon 3 holding its ground," the young cadet says, swinging over to the Interceptor with gritted teeth. "Come on, land a hit, baby, you know you want to hit it," she coos as she aims and fires her laser at the ship.

<SPACE> The decimated bomber group nevertheless continues doggedly on its course, maintaining their straight and level flight towards the cratered surface of the damaged Crusader -- until from out of nowhere a spread of proton torpedoes smash into their ranks from six X-Wings from Ghost Squadron, who having sensed the plight of the comrades-in-arms have hurried back towards the real battle to show the Imperial pilots the true meaning of 'space superiority fighter.' The unshielded TIE Bombers have little chance in the face of this truly withering barrage, and those that are not outright destroyed launch their weapons in a last-ditch attempt to fulfill their mission before pinpoint laser fire from the Rogues and the Star Destroyer's active turbolasers finish off the rest. Unfortunately for the Crusader, those that do manage to deliver their payload deliver it well, as it's not particularly difficult to miss a massive hunk of metal half again the size of your typical starship -- but fortunately for the Crusader, the pilots do not survive to see their final triumph. "Good shooting, kids," calls sardonic Rogue Seven, dipping his wings in victory even as he breaks off to cover the B-Wings and Y-Wings making their run on the lead Imperial Star Destroyer. "Who's in for taking the fight to them, now?"

Apparently, Syyvos is -- for Rogue Six breaks off combat and leaves the remaining Scimitars to Ridge's group of A-Wings and the pilots from Ghost, followed in quick succession by Eight and Ten. "We've got you covered," replies that last, his whiny tenor making Eight cringe and wish that, like Rintari, her coms had broken down too.

<SPACE> Danik rubs his forehead, sighing. All this for nothing. The Crusader, defying logic, has thus far managed to stay alive, despite the immense pounding it has received from the three Star Destroyers, its support vessels and the Scimitar bombers, which were virtually down to nothing at this point in the battle, thanks to the efforts of the Rogues, Ghosts and Falcons. And, to make it worse, the shipyards were still functional. For Kreldin, this was a defeat. It was just about time to go. Few more barrages and that would be it. "Sir, rebel bombers are en route! They're making a bombing run!" The shields on the Conqueror buckle under the pressure of the bombs and the Crusader, who was still exchanging fire.

Immobilizer 5, however, the pride of the Imperial bomber squadron at this point (and probably only one of the few survivors), continued to tail SF-9633 through the dogfight. A lock-on was quickly acquired, and a missile was sent flying towards her.

<SPACE> On the bridge of the Crusader, Captain Mora Rodriga finally collapses into his seat and sighs, weighing heavily his options. Over the run of a command, there are always situations when the burden of fifteen thousand lives in one's hands becomes too much to bear, but this is a bit extreme. With sheer force of will between some crew members and the endless void of space, Mora has never been in a position to lose this many of his crew before. What was it that the pilot's manual said?

Fourteen seconds.

That was it. The life expectancy of an ejected pilot is fourteen seconds. In the numbing vaccuum of space, with shrapnel and weapons, fighters and the sheer velocity of ejection, it is difficult enough to keep from imploding, exploding, or simply being torn apart, and even if one manages, there is still the unfathomable cold to contend with.

"Concentrate fire on the Conqueror," the Captain orders, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Those bombers need all the help they can get." By now, the breach in the Crusader's hull has become a maw: the vast, hungering jaw of a predator feeding on anything and everything it can reach. As five more of his crew and a month's provisions disappear through the side of the hull, Rodriga finally breaks. Fourteen more seconds, five more lives, ended before their time. Those kids probably never went to University, never got to realize whatever dreams they may have had. They would have fallen in love, been married, built a career. Now they fly into the void and freeze, or suffocate, or are simply crushed and shatter. Those two words echo in Mora's ears, tormenting him: fourteen seconds, fourteen seconds...

"ALRIGHT!" The Captain shouts aloud, to everyone and no one at once. "Alright." Eyes closed and clouded, the phrase he has dreaded ever uttering finally escapes his lips. "All crew," he trembles, "prepare to abandon ship."

<SPACE> Ion engines scream loudly, the _Corellian Contraband_ slowing raising from its landing pad aboard the Crusader. In the cockpit, an extremely anguished Han Solo, hands running idly over the controls of his newly aquired ship as he prepares for takeoff. Thing had been busy for the scoundrel, and much to his dismay, it seemed that StarOps was having a problem doing their job. "Of all nights," he grumbles, making sure that his com system had been shut off before the annoying pilots had a chance to say anything that might drive him to clawing at his eyes. "Leave it for me to clean up the mess.." he states arrogantly, the X-Wing moving smoothly through the fighter bay before passing through the protective field of the bay and entering the vacuum of space.

Explosions from the Scimitar bombers illuminate space briefly before the fire is quelled by lacking oxygen, bursts of energy from the turbolasers slamming into the shields, or in some cases hulls, of the capital class ships in an impressive display of power. It was a tossup at this point on which side would claim success. The Imperials had caused quite the disturbance, as shown when the legendary pilot entered space with the intent to fight, and the New Republic had defended the Shipyards with true grit and iron will. Looking to his HUD, a lone fighter stuck out, swarming around a mass of rebel ships. Very few pilots were skilled enough to pull through so many of the skilled rebel pilots and still wake the next day to tell about it. S-Foils open as the ship moves into attack speeds, the quad-laser cannons charging as he lines his reticle up the enemy craft. "Horrible range." he grumbles, firing off a shot anyways, perhaps to at least catch the attention of the Scimitar and halt the impending doom of the A-Wing that had been caught in his web of missile fire.

<SPACE> It is obvious to anyone with eyes, never mind the finest electronic sensors that money can buy, that the NRSD Crusader is in serious, serious trouble. No surprise given the pounding that they've taken really. The glaring hull breach is certainly worrisome, as is the potential for thousands and thousands of lives lost if she should go up. But there is also no doubt that the tide has turned. And the New Republic Fleet throws themselves into the effort to save the badly damaged Star Destroyer. With fewer and fewer fighters out there to screen the Imperial Capital ships more and more turbolaser strikes hit. Unfortunately on both sides. A Corellian Corvette becomes the focus of far too much firepower and explodes in a bright flash, but not before the gunnery turrets wipe out another half dozen of the Empire's increasingly dwindling stockpile of TIEs. Energy crackles wildly through the void of space and bright bursts of red and green fire are practically blinding for those caught out in the midst of it, the exchanges long and brutal. Relentless. Pride and determination as much as anything keeps both sides battling now. All focused -- seemingly -- on once single goal. The fate of one ship. Of thousands of people. All of it coming down to the next, precious few seconds.

Oblivious to none of that, Major Aaden Baeyal still keeps his focus on what he can effect; saving the live of that one A-Wing pilot who continues to draw relentless pressure from the few remaining Imperial Star Fighters. With each missile that the Scimitar Bomber launches, his teeth grit a little more, but despite all his efforts it is sheer physics that work against him. Both Interceptor and A-Wing have blazing speed. His X-Wing does not, and even pumping ever reserve bit of engery to the engines can only change so much. Still, he tries to catch up, relentless in keeping the pressure alive. "If the heat gets to relentless, just bug out Falcon Three. Hightail it outta there. But so long as you can hang in, ah'll do mah best to keep them occupied," he promises... right as another X-Wing -- identified as a friendly but not familiar to the good Major -- streaks into battle. "See? Toldya it was just a matter of time 'til they sent some help our way," he says, renewed energy in his voice as he presses the assault once more.

<SPACE> "All Rogues, with me," Rogue Seven orders, having seized command from the voiceless Six with the effortlessness of somebody who has been born to command -- and indeed he had in fact been the executive officer of Krakana Squadron before being tapped for his current position as wingman to that exceedingly nubile and unfortunately disinterested Rogue Eight. "I don't want a single Sithspawned Interceptor or anything else getting past us and into those bombers. I don't want to see a single damned missile hit any of the B-Wings we're protecting -- shoot at the missiles if you have to, but don't stop shooting, got it?"

"Wilco," is Eight's quick response (and he loves her for it); "Yes, but -- " is Ten's forcibly succinct response (he shuts off the frequency before he can get another earful about the probabilities of hitting a proton torpedo with laser fire). Rintari, of course, is silent -- but sensing, perhaps, his leader's intention, he falls into position as port wing in an expanded diamond that the Rogues form around the eight B-Wings making their attack run on the Star Destroyer Conqueror, their ion cannons spewing bolts of icy blue as they find a solution for the heavy rockets loaded into their weapons bays.

And the B-Wings are not alone. Three Corellian Corvettes have settled into a defensive position around the hangar of the Crusader, forming an artificial perimeter from which their gunners begin firing -- walls of fearsome laser fire tear into the shields of one of the escording Imperial Star Destroyers, while a flight of hardy Republic Gunships, deciding that this is not perhaps the best time to conserve ammunition, begin the thankfully long process of unloading as many of their concussion missiles as they can. Though the fleet's size has dwindled, there is still a lot of fight left in the men, women, and associated aliens manning what ships are left -- and though here and there exhaustion claims one more for the Reaper, they hold on because they can do nothing else.

"It's their duty," as Rintari would say -- and as he locks his sights on an approaching element of Interceptors, he can think of doing nothing less.

<SPACE> "All Rogues, with me," Rogue Seven orders, having seized command from the voiceless Six with the effortlessness of somebody who has been born to command -- and indeed he had in fact been the executive officer of Krakana Squadron before being tapped for his current position as wingman to that exceedingly nubile and unfortunately disinterested Rogue Eight. "I don't want a single Sithspawned Interceptor or anything else getting past us and into those bombers. I don't want to see a single damned missile hit any of the B-Wings we're protecting -- shoot at the missiles if you have to, but don't stop shooting, got it?"

"Wilco," is Eight's quick response (and he loves her for it); "Yes, but -- " is Ten's forcibly succinct response (he shuts off the frequency before he can get another earful about the probabilities of hitting a proton torpedo with laser fire). Rintari, of course, is silent -- but sensing, perhaps, his leader's intention, he falls into position as port wing in an expanded diamond that the Rogues form around the eight B-Wings making their attack run on the Star Destroyer Conqueror, their ion cannons spewing bolts of icy blue as they find a solution for the heavy rockets loaded into their weapons bays.

And the B-Wings are not alone. Three Corellian Corvettes have settled into a defensive position around the hangar of the Crusader, forming an artificial perimeter from which their gunners begin firing -- walls of fearsome laser fire tear into the shields of one of the escording Imperial Star Destroyers, while a flight of hardy Republic Gunships, deciding that this is not perhaps the best time to conserve ammunition, begin the thankfully long process of unloading as many of their concussion missiles as they can. Though the fleet's size has dwindled, there is still a lot of fight left in the men, women, and associated aliens manning what ships are left -- and though here and there exhaustion claims one more for the Reaper, they hold on because they can do nothing else.

"It's their duty," as Rintari would say -- and as he locks his sights on an approaching element of Interceptors, he can think of doing nothing less.

<SPACE> Coming out of two hard rolls - one in one direction, and the other in the opposite direction, Andra takes a breather as she spots another X-wing enter the scene. She weaves through the other obstructions - some stray fire from the raging battle over the Crusader, other ships weaving in and out - before she slips back to the still-flying Interceptor. Does she tempt fate - put her life as the bargaining chip for success?

As every good (and thus, questionably insane) pilot would, she dives into the fray head-on, swerving a few times before she is able to lock onto the damned Interceptor. No words, though - for words would break her concentration (and oh, how Ironic - she, the purveyor of words choosing none) - as she steadies herself, aims, and sends her little message of appreciation flying toward the ship.

<SPACE> Danik's mood suddenly changed as Captain Brencis read him the status report. "Sir, the Crusader is losing power! They're abandonding ship." Had Danik's dream finally come true? Was he finally fulfilling his mission he had set out upon so long ago? He sat back up in his command seat, and began to bark out more orders. "Move the ship away from the Crusader. Where the hell did our fighter screen go?" he asked, only to get a reply from Brencis that they had been destroyed by the Ghosts, Rogues and Falcons. "I want a fighter screen around us -now-! Those bombers have taken our shields away and our hull is taking damage. Destroy those bombers," he said, and almost instantly, a wave of TIE Interceptors moved in to intercept the bombers assaulting the Conqueror, trying their best to ignore the fighters around them. But, to add some dismay to Kreldin, the rest of the Republic fleet was approaching. "Subjugator II, Tormentor, keep pummeling the Crusader until it goes up in flames. Keep her pinned down! We still have time before the rest of the fleet completely engulfs us," he says, tapping his fingers on his arm rest as the Conqueror's bridge shakes from another missile impact. The two other Star Destroyers begin to slightly distance themselves from the Crusader, but still continue to pour heavy turbolaser fire into the burning vessel. The bombers were gone, save for the heroic Immobilizer 5, and the hundreds of TIE Interceptors that had been deployed had been reduced to merely seventy. Nevertheless, the fleet still remained strong, despite the heavy damage the Conqueror had taken, and the loss of several support ships. The Marauders, Lancers, Carracks and Corvettes formed a perimeter around the three Star Destroyers, taking a lot of the damage for their sake, while still returning fire towards the other capital ships or the fighters, with their anti-starfighter weaponry. The Conqueror itself was losing quite a bit of its weaponry to Y-wing bombing, but it still had enough to put the Crusader out of its misery with the help of its two sister ships. The Conqueror definitely wasn't getting out of this battle without a need to visit the repair yards for a while.

Meanwhile, Immobilizer 5 was still on the tail of the A-wing, despite how far away it was from him. He was in no position to open fire on the other one, yet, so he just opened fire once more on the pesky A-wing.

<SPACE> Mora, still twiddling his fingers and pondering his impending demise, looks up briefly as Ridge's message comes through, just in time to witness the Conqueror's situation. "Belay that," he starts, and examines his viewscreen more thoroughly. Three times two plus one and the lasers, plus two CorGuns, and- yes. It can be saved. "Charge all port-side batteries, load all projectiles. Put everything you've got into shields to fore and port. Helm- bring us about. Execute close-range port-to-port pass with the Conqueror. All speed!"

With that, the huge, limping starship turns and lumbers directly toward its foe, shields flickering in and out of corporeality on its crippled starboard side. "Force help us," the Captain mutters, "and please don't let Evir be right."

<SPACE> <OOC> Han_Solo, on SF-6005 says, "Han watches, a look of sadness sweeping over his face as the lasers miss their mark. This was indeed no Millennium Falcon, and from the looks of things Chewbacca would never grace the seats of the snug fighter. A sad fact, though the YT-1300 was still undergoing a series of repairs, repairs that would not be completed for another two days at the earliest. Poking at the console that stretches in front of him, Han turns on his com system as the thoughts of the falcon run through his mind. "Control, this is Han Solo." he waits for a moment before continuing, "My ship is on the Crusader, you better hold off on this attack or so be it--" Lasers from a grouping of TIEs rake acrossed the left S-Foil of the _Corellian Contraband_, ripping Han from his thoughts and interupting his speech, a light click emiting as he drops the active com, taking the control stick in both hands again.

Weaving in and out of enemy craft, Han keeps his eye on the lone Scimitar. In any other instant, he might assume that this pilot was Kreldin, someone that he would gladly go toe to toe with, though there was something different about this pilot. The Empire didn't need two ace pilots, one was enough. Pulling back the throttle, the X-wing is pulled up hard, the ion engines almost in an idle as the ship completes a 180 degree turn, stabilizing quickly after the maneuver is completed and the engines are pushed to attack speeds once again. Reticle glowing softly as he lines up another shot with his lasers, Han pulls on the control stick, red beams of energy releasing and shieking through space, the scimitar their marked destination."

<SPACE> The main battle had shifted largley away from where Aren still dogfighted with the pesky A-wing. At ungodly speeds he wove through the debris of destroyed ships and occasional shots from the main battle. The A-wing was slippery though, and had disspered from Aren's field of view. Seconds later the computer screeched and Aren hauled back on the stick and mashed the etheric rudder tossing the MkII into a mad corkscrew towards the A-wing. The A-wing's shots went wide of Aren's small craft but Aren wasn't about to let the pilot reaffirm his aim onto Aren. Once more he fired at that bleeding A-wing.

<SPACE> Increasingly the scene above Mon Calamari is being engulfed in chaos as the relentless battle continues. Salvo after salvo of turbolaser fire is exchanged, missiles and proton torpedos explodes in brilliant bursts of color. Shields flicker, blue energy appearing briefly before fading away and hulls of countless ships are scarred with the marks of battle. Scratches cover once gleaming surfaces and scoring from laser bursts seems to paint every vessel as they sails through the sea of stars. As the defensive posture of the Imperials tightens even more at the constant pounding being taken from the New Republic forces, a number of small mini-battles are conducted amidst the chaos. A Mon Calamari Cruiser slices through the frey, it's starboard turbolaser batteries opening up with a massive barrage of fire against one of the Carrack Cruisers that shields the larger Star Destroyer from attack. A squadron of starfighters rising from the surface of Mon Calamari itself find themselves cut off by the Imperials anti-starfighter platform, a Lancer-Frigate and moments later seven starfighters are mere chunks of flaming debris, the rest of the squadron peeling off, unable to get by the craft to launch their own attacks. Again and again, the tide of the battle shifts on some small, out of the way battle.

Even with the added help, it is plain that breaking through the slick flying of the Imperial Pilots is going to be a long, time-consuming task. Assuming it's possible at all. But right now Major Aaden Baeyal is more then happy to have any help that he can get. In all the chaos, he is firmly fixed on once thing; keeping his few surviving wingmates alive. Fortunately the pilot of Falcon Three has proven herself to be rather capable. "Three, close this up. We could go at this all day but we're drifting too far. Ah want ya to break back towards the fleet. Pour your auxillary power into your engines. The Interceptor won't be able to keep up. You've done good," Rogue's XO says, the smile almost palpable even over the comm. "G'on. We'll cover for ya," he promises, focusing in on the closest Imperial craft and launching another attack. "Whoever this guy is..." he adds, muttering softly in the cockpit of his X-Wing.

<SPACE> Eyes widening at the sudden flurry of the TIE fighters around him, Ridge tries to think quickly. *click* "Requesting all Falcons to the Conquerer. Yeah. Where the TIEs are. Rogue flight two, come help, we need your torpedos. And bombers.... keep bombing. Ghost stay with them. We'll win this thing yet." *click* As Falcon A-wings come one by one to aid Ridge's flight, Ridge begins to accelerate towards a group of TIEs, Falcon 6 on his wing. Skillfully shooting them down, they begin to turn on another group headed towards the bombers. Before the two A-wings reach this group, two of the B-wings are shot down, smashing against the surface of the conquerer. Ridge's eyes begin to cloud over as the anger pulses through his veins. Holding the trigger down, a large barrage of laser fire exits the A-wing, swiftly hunting down the Interceptors and shooting them from the sky. Grinning maliciously, a sudden thought comes to him. This would help. "All A-wings, use your targeting jammers on the TIEs, be careful not to hit our own fighters. Use extreme caution." With that, he maneuvers towards a group of TIEs that are separated from the other fighters. Firing his jammers, he hinders the targeting capabilites of the small group. Turning back towards the bombers, he fires his lasers at another incoming TIE.

<SPACE> Though still confident in her dodging abilities, Andra knows her time is running low - and pulls back in a spiral, away from the persistantly-annoying Interceptor. A good move, as she receives new orders over the comm, and nods in understanding as she pulls her ship away, fingers dancing in a hurried attempt to pull her energy away from her laser - if only temporarily - to aid her speedy retreat. "Roger that, Rogue." The young cadet finally takes some time to brush away some of her hair that has been annoying her - though less than the Interceptor - since she slammed her helmet on back in the Docking Bay. "Thanks for the help, Rogue - and good luck!" she shouds, spinning her ship around before stepping on the not-quite-metaphorical gas pedal to hightail it to the rest of the Falcon squad.

"Sir, the Crusader is shifting towards us," Brencis reported. Danik mumbled, trying to think just what Rodriguez had in mind. "Have the Tormentor and Subjugator II accelerate forward and flank the Crusader. Captain! I want a reading on our hull," Danik shouted, sweat clearly dripping from his forehead. This was intense. As rebel bombers are hit and careen into the Conqueror's hull, the situation was looking dire for the old Star Destroyer. "Our hull is is reading low, sir. We can take a few more barrages," Brencis replied. Rubbing his hands together, Danik made his decision. "We're staying here until the Crusader is a smoderling wreck. I know it's foolish, but I trust this crew to keep the ship alive until the Crusader is no more. Keep up the attack," he shouted. As the Imperial fighters continue to be destroyed, destroy, or fall victim to target jammers, the Imperial support vessels continue to wade into the bomber and fighter formations, making this an even, chaotic battle. Neither side was giving up any room, and hundreds continued to die.

Immobilizer 5 had decided to give up his attack on the A-wing; it was too fast, and too far away. So, when the other ship decided to attack him, he charged ever so bravely towards it, taking hull damage. He ignored the damage, however, and unleashed another missile."

<SPACE> Four of those seventy-odd Interceptors close on the Rogues' position, green laser fire slashing not at the X-Wings but the B-Wings they're currently protecting, a number of their shots hitting home as the oddly-shaped fighters soak up the damage with their shields. Thankfully, the B-Wings make up for their complete and total unattractiveness with a veritable boatload of hull strength, and the flying version of the Imperial AT-AT begin their first bomb run, shooting neither proton torpedoes nor concussion missiles but their precious stashes of rockets, those all-too-expensive projectiles that give more than enough bang for the proverbial buck. Though unguided, they are close enough to the Imperial fleet that it doesn't matter that they can't be led to their target -- there are simply far too many things to hit, among which is the lead Star Destroyer that now looms in front of them.

"Intolerable!" hollers Rogue Ten in the com, his squeaky voice trying and failing to sound appropriately indignant. "I can't believe they're using those stupid things -- don't they know that they're costing the taxpayers tens of billions of credits that could otherwise go to -- "

"Shut up and shoot, Ten," snaps Seven, his own guns bursting to life and shredding an Interceptor's permaglass cockpit -- and a raucous laugh echoes over the airwaves as his astromech unit reports another kill, his lasers' supercharged particles vaporizing the hapless pilot and turning him into a confused collection of atoms that are still trying to figure out how they'd been a person a mere half a second earlier.

Rintari, too, focuses his attention on another Imperial fighter, and Rogue Six swings back and forth as her cannons trace a deadly pattern of fire from the TIE's starboard solar panel to its central eyeball until it too explodes in a flash of brilliant light. Two more near-simultaneous explosions from its general directions tell him that Eight and Ten have hit their marks as well. There is a reason they call Rogue Squadron the elite of the elite, the cream of the New Republic's sizeable crop -- despite their disparate personalities, they have one thing in common: They do not make mistakes.

"Yeehaw!" shouts Rogue Ten in jubilation.

Well, most of them, at least.

<SPACE> Han watches as the A-Wing begins to retreat, perhaps the scimitar would stop rolling away. Regardless, the highly modified X-Wing was much faster than the scimitar, and it would sooner or later be forced to retreat or fight. Rolling hard to the right, Han weaves through another group of oncoming TIEs, more laser fire hitting his ship. Stabilizing the ship once more, Han frowns, would he ever get used to flying the X-Wing? Not likely, unless he took her out more than once or twice a month. Lining up another shot on the bomber, Han waits a little longer this time, pushing the directing any extra energy that the vessel might possess into the engines, pushing the ship to its max in order to close the growing distance. Within moments the reticle beeps inpatiently, as does the red astromech that rests behind the cockpit, and more red lasers enter space.

<SPACE> It is enough to make one shed tears. To think of the countless billions of credits that had been wasted in less then half an hour above the glittering, jewel of an ocean world that is spread out down below. The fuel for fighters, the gas that powers turbolasers and lasers alike. The missiles and torpedos. The countless years of training snuffed out in an instant. The lives. The greatest cost of all. Despite all that, the commitment has clearly been too great for both sides and as the heated battle continues on unabatted, with flurries of fire clouding the skies.

A trio of New Republic Assault Frigates begin their run, directing a wall of turbolaser fire ahead of them, pounding relentlessly on the Imperial line ships that try to shield their heavy destroyers. A group of four Interceptors meets its end at the hands of a Corgun that sweeps through, turrets of laser fire decimating the fighters. Again and again the New Republic fleet makes it's push to save the Crusader, savaging the Imperial forces with all they can, trying to buy that precious space the New Republic Star Destroyer needs to survive.

As Falcon Three peels off at high speeds, heading back towards the grouping of A-Wings that dart in amongst the heart of the fray, Rogue 5 suddenly finds itself the recipient of some of the hostile attention previously directed it's way and when a concussion missile suddenly bears down on him, all the fancy flying in the world can't help him evade it. Darting and twisting, rolling and diving, Aaden almost blows out his inertial stabilizers and still the projectile plows through the remainder of his shields, spraying one side of his fighter with shrapnel. "Frack me," he mutters, a rare expression of frustration escaping his lips as he darts away, making a beeline back towards the heart of the fray. Falcon Three is out, and so is he. Time to rejoin the Rogue pilots and offer what help, slight as it might be, in the Crusader's last stand.

<SPACE> Danik had enough. It was obvious the gods were with the crew of the Crusader today, as the ship was taking an amazing amount of damage but still managed to fly. The rebels were desperate to save their precious Star Destroyer, and Kreldin knew what desperate men did in desperate situations, given no chance for escape. Sighing, he picked up his comlink and contacted the fleet. "This is Danik Kreldin. All units, begin withdrawal. Repeat, begin withdrawal. All remaining fighters find a safe spot to land as fast as possible. Tormentor, Subjugator II, form up on the Conqueror's wing and shield us. We can't take much more of this. We're taking the hyperspace route back to Corellia. We've done the best we can. Good job, gentlemen."

With that, the Imperial fleet began to move. The remaining fighters broke off from their attacks and tried to get back to their ships while the three Star Destroyers and their support vessels began the withdrawal towards the hyperspace route.

<SPACE> Aren deftly guided his fighter through the chaos of the battle around the 'Conqueror', weaving and spinning to avoid debris and fire from enemy ships. Periodically he would squeeze off a few shots at any Rebel fighter that ventured too close, or showed a keener interest in Aren than he was comforatable with. Danik's message came over the comm just as Aren was guiding his fighter up into the 'Conqueror's great hold. "It was a good effort regardless...." He muttered as he lowered his battered ship to the gleaming deck of the Destroyer

<SPACE> But even the Rogues' protective screen cannot stop the redoubled Imperial onslaught -- and this time the six Interceptor pilots who break off to attack have the sense to approach the dual-diamond formation from the back, unleashing a flood of green on the unsuspecting sixes of the New Republic assault fighters. Two of the B-Wings, their hulls already weakened from the force of the Imperial assault, fall out of formation before coming apart mid-air; two more, taking serious damage, launch their final salvos of rockets before breaking away, leaving the Rogues with four fighters to shelter and six angry, shielded Imperial Interceptors on their tails. "This is going to get bloody," Eight murmurs -- "Prepare to execute reverse and roll, Flight!" from Seven -- "We can't shake them, Lead!" from Ten -- a desperate slip up and away from Six, that cues the rest to leave their escorts and fall in behind the pursuing Interceptors --

And then the Interceptors suddenly begin withdrawing, breaking off the combat to return to their respective ships, their guns falling miraculously silent; all around the marveling Rogues, Imperial fighters abandon their defensive posture and strategically retreat back to their hangars as green fire steadily thins to a trickle of its former strength, providing only the briefest hints of covering fire as they move towards their hyperroute.

The Rogues, mainstay of the Republic fighter corps, take over the pursuit, firing the last of their depleted torpedoes at the capital ships that even now disappear into hyperspace; Ridge and Falcon Flight execute a victory flyby of their flagship's superstructure, their numbers thinned but their valor undiminished; the remaining B-Wings turn towards base, what few of them remaining returning to cruise position and counting their losses. And the Crusader?

Her guns silent, her running lights dimmed, at last she is granted reprieve. And as the sun rises over Reef Home and casts its glorious rays over the shimmering city of Calamari, she is illuminated in all her magnificence by the stars -- battered but unbroken, damaged but unbeaten -- for like the Republic she represents, there has been too much vested in her defense for her to fall at this critical moment in time.