Tebana just got a glimpse of the bright thruster lights of Lita’s unmarked Stealth-X. She briefly wondered as to why she wouldn’t wait for all of the Dragons to assemble before flying out… would Jago approve? He probably wouldn’t and there she had her answer.
She frowned lightly at the emotional implications that she suspected buried as she crossed over to her own black X-Wing. Slightly worn, with a slowly fading upright lightsaber, graced by a red and blue sigil. The old symbol of the formerly united worlds of Yavin and Osarian. She had preferred to let this mark of her past fade away instead of overpainting or or renewing it. Just as any old symbol of changed times and tides, it would fade into forgetfulness and into the past, forever locked between memory and nothingness. Symbols represent states of affairs, allegiances, enemy lines, handles. They served a purpose, could rally countless minds and acts, condemn millions and at their mere appearance bring balance and peace. But a changed reality, betrayed a symbol… overcame it and eventually changed it.
Looking up at the sigil, she realised how closely the symbol was intertwined with Ander’s and her past. Ander, Dav, Tebana, Zuli, Mai, Jago, Ronan, Ton, Kas… so much history, so much past. She turned around, feeling one of the attending specialists honing in on her with a datapad which she took and signed.
She spared another look at the lines of Stealth-X Wings waiting for their pilots while absentmindedly pulling at her collar. She had never liked any kind of flightsuits. Too constricting, too heavy, too uncomfortable. She felt trapped and their utility didn’t do anything against that feeling.
Tebana sighed uncomfortably. It had been a while since the last Dragon outing and longer since the last flight with as much importance as this one, and yet, not long enough since the last time they all had flown together.
Hangar
Re: Hangar
~ He had taken a moment to collect himself after the briefing, even after changing into the flight uniform of Dragon Squadron. The slight armoring, the way the material flexed with each movement of his ... it felt right, far more so than the loose trappings of the more traditional minded Jedi. This was how he wanted to appear: as a soldier. A Warrior among the Stars. For most of is life, it was all he had known. A lifetime spent fighting.
Fighting was nearly all Jago had known, regardless of how much he walked away from the Guardian's Path. He had fought against powers beyond comprehension or reason, against Empires and Gods much as he had told Dav what had seemed like a lifetime ago. Whether with a blade or a fightstick firmly in his grasp, war came easy to Jago Pulastra. With the passing days, it was getting easier.
That scared him.
" Miss me, Old Girl?" he asked upon coming up to the Number Five, patting the hull affectionately. She had seen him through the worst so far, the fighter's Emerald Tree now graced with the silhouette of many fighters upon its wing. None of them were Mandalorian. X-Wings, Y, E, B, TIEs, Airspeeders: he continued to remember those that had fallen in the defense of Home. Tracking kills was no longer important and, he remarked to himself, it never should have been. The Honored Dead were the only ones worthy of such recognition. He sighed to himself while his gloved hand rested upon that left wing.
" You Died for Us," he whispered, repeating the mantra that had consumed him in the past few days, " We'll Live for You."
It was, perhaps, a minute gesture. Something merely to remind the Jedi why he fought. But these small rituals and rites were incredibly important to the fighter pilot Pulastra. An affirmation of the self, blended with purpose: something this War was giving him none of unless he took it upon himself to do so.
Before climbing into his cockpit finally, his eye caught the parked formation and saw that a warbird was missing. Not just any, but the one that should have stayed grounded, that had stayed grounded for a long time now. He made away from his starfighter and quickly for the attendant that should have been watching these sacred planes.
" Crew Chief. Crew Chief!"
The young man that had been responsible for his Flight appeared quickly, saluting even as Jago waved the gesture away.
" Why is the Number Six gone?" he asked pointedly.
" Because a pilot is in it ..?" the unhelpful answer came.
" No Stang. Who?"
" I don't know, I've never seen her before. I thought you had cleared her ..?"
" I never cleared anyone to serve as my wingman, what are you talking about ..?"
The Crew Chief could only shrug and begin moving away, talking of how he needed to attend to Dragon Seven and Eight rather than debate over orders that he knew nothing about. Jago stammered for a moment, before finally throwing up his hands and returning towards his steed.
" Whoever in Chaos they are, they better be able to keep up ..."
Their assignment was risky as it was. He didn't need to be babysitting some rookie who assumed they would be able to keep up with him. Jago appreciated the notion of wanting to help, but at the expense of Squadron Coherency ...
He sighed, even as he began climbing the ladder to the cockpit of Dragon Five. He missed Lita. He was worried about Ronan's return. There was much on Jago's mind.
Once the helmet set over his head, however, emblazoned all over with the symbols of the Jedi and himself, all of that could be compartmentalized: there was only the thought of soaring through the darkness of space again, into the void to bring Light.
He began his pre-flight check, taking a little longer than usual. What slowed his eyes and hands, he did not know, but he was ready.
Willing.
Prepared to Fight. ~
Fighting was nearly all Jago had known, regardless of how much he walked away from the Guardian's Path. He had fought against powers beyond comprehension or reason, against Empires and Gods much as he had told Dav what had seemed like a lifetime ago. Whether with a blade or a fightstick firmly in his grasp, war came easy to Jago Pulastra. With the passing days, it was getting easier.
That scared him.
" Miss me, Old Girl?" he asked upon coming up to the Number Five, patting the hull affectionately. She had seen him through the worst so far, the fighter's Emerald Tree now graced with the silhouette of many fighters upon its wing. None of them were Mandalorian. X-Wings, Y, E, B, TIEs, Airspeeders: he continued to remember those that had fallen in the defense of Home. Tracking kills was no longer important and, he remarked to himself, it never should have been. The Honored Dead were the only ones worthy of such recognition. He sighed to himself while his gloved hand rested upon that left wing.
" You Died for Us," he whispered, repeating the mantra that had consumed him in the past few days, " We'll Live for You."
It was, perhaps, a minute gesture. Something merely to remind the Jedi why he fought. But these small rituals and rites were incredibly important to the fighter pilot Pulastra. An affirmation of the self, blended with purpose: something this War was giving him none of unless he took it upon himself to do so.
Before climbing into his cockpit finally, his eye caught the parked formation and saw that a warbird was missing. Not just any, but the one that should have stayed grounded, that had stayed grounded for a long time now. He made away from his starfighter and quickly for the attendant that should have been watching these sacred planes.
" Crew Chief. Crew Chief!"
The young man that had been responsible for his Flight appeared quickly, saluting even as Jago waved the gesture away.
" Why is the Number Six gone?" he asked pointedly.
" Because a pilot is in it ..?" the unhelpful answer came.
" No Stang. Who?"
" I don't know, I've never seen her before. I thought you had cleared her ..?"
" I never cleared anyone to serve as my wingman, what are you talking about ..?"
The Crew Chief could only shrug and begin moving away, talking of how he needed to attend to Dragon Seven and Eight rather than debate over orders that he knew nothing about. Jago stammered for a moment, before finally throwing up his hands and returning towards his steed.
" Whoever in Chaos they are, they better be able to keep up ..."
Their assignment was risky as it was. He didn't need to be babysitting some rookie who assumed they would be able to keep up with him. Jago appreciated the notion of wanting to help, but at the expense of Squadron Coherency ...
He sighed, even as he began climbing the ladder to the cockpit of Dragon Five. He missed Lita. He was worried about Ronan's return. There was much on Jago's mind.
Once the helmet set over his head, however, emblazoned all over with the symbols of the Jedi and himself, all of that could be compartmentalized: there was only the thought of soaring through the darkness of space again, into the void to bring Light.
He began his pre-flight check, taking a little longer than usual. What slowed his eyes and hands, he did not know, but he was ready.
Willing.
Prepared to Fight. ~
-
Tebana Sor
- Posts: 57
- Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 6:40 pm
Re: Hangar
Zuli’s call reached her and as he turned, he saw a small, but genuine smile flash across her face.
“Zuli.”
She felt slightly tense. Dav’s continued silence of his whereabouts during the past three days was preoccupying. He had reached the ready room just after her, assumed lead and briefed everyone just as if he had never left. And yet... he had...
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it…?”
Tebana deflected her own tension towards a small exchange with the revered Jedi Master as she stepped towards him just as Jago entered the Hangar. His bright energy wouldn’t go unnoticed among the busy comings and goings in the hangar. How could it?
As they all did, he seemed tense. Tense and tired. Her right eyebrow shot upwards as she noticed his flare of angry shouting at the crew chief who obediently rushed towards him.
Lita. As suspected, the proud Zabrak warrior was joining them, but not on Jago’s orders…
“Zuli.”
She felt slightly tense. Dav’s continued silence of his whereabouts during the past three days was preoccupying. He had reached the ready room just after her, assumed lead and briefed everyone just as if he had never left. And yet... he had...
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it…?”
Tebana deflected her own tension towards a small exchange with the revered Jedi Master as she stepped towards him just as Jago entered the Hangar. His bright energy wouldn’t go unnoticed among the busy comings and goings in the hangar. How could it?
As they all did, he seemed tense. Tense and tired. Her right eyebrow shot upwards as she noticed his flare of angry shouting at the crew chief who obediently rushed towards him.
Lita. As suspected, the proud Zabrak warrior was joining them, but not on Jago’s orders…
Last edited by Tebana Sor on Wed Oct 01, 2014 5:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Dav Man'Sell
- Jedi Battlemaster
- Posts: 342
- Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2013 12:18 am
Re: Hangar
Dav entered the Hangar at a brisk pace, hair still drying from his shower, wearing his burgundy flight-suit, the first set of completely clean, dry, mud-free clothes he had worn in three days. He felt largely refreshed. He looked half-way refreshed, too, though the lack of true rest since the siege had begun had set upon his face a slight pallor and deep shadows beneath his eyes.
He crossed instantly to his X-Wing, pausing just a moment to examine the squadron markings on the wings - the single red stripe of Dragon Leader. It was his first combat mission in the role of official Squadron Leader. And the occasion couldn't have been more important.
He set his flight helmet down at the base of the ladder leading up to the craft, and turned towards the front of the craft, running his hand along the fiberplast hull. The paint, a dark, matte grey, with red markings running along the hull, had an electro-static quality that reacted to a certain wavelength of electromagnetic energy. When the generators within the craft polarised the X-Wing's hull, the paint shifted into the black, star-speckled pattern of the older StealthX's.
For now, though, the fighter proudly displayed the markings of Dragon Squadron. The blue and red, spiralled mark representative of the close relationship between the Yavin Praxeum and the Osarian enclave, the seal of the New Jedi Order, and the Dragon wrapped around the ignited lightsaber that served as the Squadron's crest itself, arranged in a trio down the rear of the cockpit seal. The silhouettes painted beneath the cockpit, marking Dav's officially recorded combat kills - primarily the kills he had claimed in the twelve years since he had taken up residence with the Yavin IV Praxeum, although a series of spherical shadows marked his service for the New Republic during the so-called Black Fleet Crisis, and the irregular, biotechnological craft that followed those showed kills he'd acquired in the seat of an XJ3 X-Wing during the Yuuzhan Vong War.
And those wing markings. That lone red stripe that broke the solid coloured bar, that signalled that was the X-Wing of Dragon leader. The paint on that part of the wing was newer than most of the rest; only a handful of kills at the end of the bottom-most line of silhouettes were newer.
He continued to circle the X-Wing, no longer admiring the paintwork, concentrating now on the fighter itself. The nose had a few dark scores, marks of combat yet to be repaired. But the sensor window was un-damaged, and as best as his eye could discern, the transceivers there were in good condition. He found no obstructions to the trio of torpedo tubes, no structural concerns in the main bulk of the forward hull. The engine intakes looked to be in good shape, too, and freshly cleaned.
Next Dav moved along the wings, to the cannons on their tips. Checked the barrels, flashback suppressors, gate couplers, and lasing tips, checked the give in the cannon's actuators. Swung under the weapons, around the side of the wing, along its rear-edge, where he checked the baffles and filters, deflector generators, power couplings, and the dozen other components accessible from there. All looked to have been maintained by the tech crew to the same high standard. He completed his circuit, checking the other two cannons and the shield projection lenses, and returned to the X-Wing's nose to look down her sleek lines. He gave a small smile, and nodded. It would be good to fly again, even under such serious circumstances as those they now faced.
With that, he turned, looked out over the rest of the X-Wings. It took him a second to realise precisely what was wrong; only eleven Starfighters occupied the stand-by area. One of the ten T69 X-Wings were gone, leaving a neat little void in the space between the two standard StealthX's that would be joining them and filling out the missing Squadron slots. A small frown flitted across his eyes, and he turned, crossing to their resident squadron head technician, a question forming on his lips. As he crossed the duracreet, his eyes scanned the standing craft more closely, and by the time he had completed the short walk, he was fairly sure that he knew the answer to his question.
"Who's in the air already?"
The head technician turned his insectoid head to Dav. He was Zraii, a Verpine with a long, distinguished history of working with the finest Starfighter Squadrons in the Galaxy. Zraii had been the technician who had prepped the X-Wings of Rogue Squadron for their campaign to take Coruscant. In the decades since, the Verpine had refined many of his techniques, learned to speak basic, and helped development some innovative new starfighter maintenance techniques. Some said he was one of the best. After nearly nine years working with the Verpine tech, the Jedi Master was inclined to agree.
=Zraii=
"The new Pilot. Lita Trykk, Master Man'Zell. Zeemzz zhe wanted to zcout ahead. Told the attendant zhe'd rendezvous with the zquadron in the air."
Dav's frown deepened, and he turned to look out at the empty slot. His eyes were drawn by a clear, strong voiced shout to Jago, just engaging, quite vocally, in conversation with the on duty crew chief for the hangar, and from the gestures and facial clues, he guessed Jago was asking about the same thing.
Then another thought occurred to him.
With everything that's happened, I forgot to discuss Lita's appointment to the Squadron with him.
He grimaced to himself, before turning back and nodding to Zraii.
"Alright, thanks, Zraii. And, uh..." He gestured to his X-Wing. "Good job. As always."
He turned, walked away, his mind on Lita, and on his distracted mind, and his subsequent failure to let Jago know who his new wingmate would be. He hadn't expected her to fly just yet. So long as she was still commanding on the ground, still only grabbing simulator time in the spare moments she could, it hadn't been a priority discussion to have with Jago. And then this mission had arisen so suddenly, he had barely had time to get back, get the details, check over - and agree on - Jago's mission plan, run a short and incredibly quick briefing, and get himself prepped. Lita had slipped in last, at the back of the room. She'd slipped out first, intent on getting on, Dav supposed, before Jago had had a chance to turn his head. They'd not actually crossed paths, and so Jago remained oblivious.
Too late now...
It wasn't ideal. But very little around them was. Dav would just have to trust Jago to handle it appropriately when he worked it out. As he watched the rest of the pilots file in, watched Tebana and Zuli talking on the far end of the launch area – clearly, neither of them had spotted him yet – he realised it was about time to load up and get going.
He crossed to his X-Wing, swept his flight helmet up off of the floor, and clambered up the ladder to the cockpit, pausing only to give a smile to the familiar sight of his little burgundy R2 droid in his rightful place behind the cockpit. He was settled into his seat and buckled in before the flight attendant had had a chance to even reach the ladder to remove it, and had the X-Wing's engines whining lightly through their start-up cycle within a few more seconds. His computer systems came to life, panels around him lighting up one at a time as their associated systems came online. He ran through his pre-flight checks as the canopy closed around him, slipping his helmet on as he did so, and then powered up the comm systems.
"Dirty, you with me buddy? I'm reading all green and ready to go here, how about you?"
The droid tweeted back a cheerful confirmation, and Dav nodded, a small smile. Through the viewport, he could see the rest of the X-Wings filling up. Wyren Starla had entered her X-Wing already, and Ehrik Jaimse was just climbing into his. Thanks to a little inventive adaptation, the two non-Force sensitive pilots would be achieving something never done before – piloting in a StealthX Squadron.
Just one more thing that's not exactly ideal, but if it works...
He adjusted his comm. microphone, and brought the transceiver online.
"Wyren, Ehrik, do you hear me?"
=Captain Wyren Starla, Dragon Eleven=
::Reading you loud and clear, lead.::
Dav smiled tightly. Wyren Starla might not have been a Force Sensitive, but she could cope with the plotting challenge lain before her in a way that very few other people in the Galaxy could. Her and Ehrik Jaimes both had proven themselves time and time again. He gave it a minute, until Jaimes had called in as well, then switched over to a private channel to just those two.
::I know this is a big ask for both of you. But I also know you're both up to the task. Just remember, exactly as I laid out in the briefing. Follow your wing's leads and maintain comm-silence until we engage the enemy. Then they'll defer to flying your support. Use the burst transceivers only when absolutely necessary, keep messages short, and account for the delay in transmission and decoding at the receiving end. And don't forget, the range of those transceivers is only ten clicks.::
The two pilots confirmed, and Dav left them to their prep. His own X-Wing was ready to fly, but he wanted to see the others safely out of the hangar first. He watched the bustling around him, watched the trees sway in the wind and rain through the vast, currently open hangar doors. His mind was drawn back, again, to Lita's new position within the squadron.
He settled in to wait, dipping lightly into the Force, finding Jago's mind, and sending him a sensation of reassurance. 'Trust me, it'll be fine', the sensation said. Until they were fully submerged in the Force Meld, Dav wouldn't be able to communicate anything clearer than that, not with his own tiredness, and Jago's busy thoughts. He let his connection to Jago slip away, and reached out to find Tebana's instead. She'd finished her conversation with Zuli, and found her seat in the cockpit of her X-Wing since he had last looked her way.
He sent just the hint of a feeling. The empathic equivalent of a small, wearied smile, seeking a little reassurance of his own.
He crossed instantly to his X-Wing, pausing just a moment to examine the squadron markings on the wings - the single red stripe of Dragon Leader. It was his first combat mission in the role of official Squadron Leader. And the occasion couldn't have been more important.
He set his flight helmet down at the base of the ladder leading up to the craft, and turned towards the front of the craft, running his hand along the fiberplast hull. The paint, a dark, matte grey, with red markings running along the hull, had an electro-static quality that reacted to a certain wavelength of electromagnetic energy. When the generators within the craft polarised the X-Wing's hull, the paint shifted into the black, star-speckled pattern of the older StealthX's.
For now, though, the fighter proudly displayed the markings of Dragon Squadron. The blue and red, spiralled mark representative of the close relationship between the Yavin Praxeum and the Osarian enclave, the seal of the New Jedi Order, and the Dragon wrapped around the ignited lightsaber that served as the Squadron's crest itself, arranged in a trio down the rear of the cockpit seal. The silhouettes painted beneath the cockpit, marking Dav's officially recorded combat kills - primarily the kills he had claimed in the twelve years since he had taken up residence with the Yavin IV Praxeum, although a series of spherical shadows marked his service for the New Republic during the so-called Black Fleet Crisis, and the irregular, biotechnological craft that followed those showed kills he'd acquired in the seat of an XJ3 X-Wing during the Yuuzhan Vong War.
And those wing markings. That lone red stripe that broke the solid coloured bar, that signalled that was the X-Wing of Dragon leader. The paint on that part of the wing was newer than most of the rest; only a handful of kills at the end of the bottom-most line of silhouettes were newer.
He continued to circle the X-Wing, no longer admiring the paintwork, concentrating now on the fighter itself. The nose had a few dark scores, marks of combat yet to be repaired. But the sensor window was un-damaged, and as best as his eye could discern, the transceivers there were in good condition. He found no obstructions to the trio of torpedo tubes, no structural concerns in the main bulk of the forward hull. The engine intakes looked to be in good shape, too, and freshly cleaned.
Next Dav moved along the wings, to the cannons on their tips. Checked the barrels, flashback suppressors, gate couplers, and lasing tips, checked the give in the cannon's actuators. Swung under the weapons, around the side of the wing, along its rear-edge, where he checked the baffles and filters, deflector generators, power couplings, and the dozen other components accessible from there. All looked to have been maintained by the tech crew to the same high standard. He completed his circuit, checking the other two cannons and the shield projection lenses, and returned to the X-Wing's nose to look down her sleek lines. He gave a small smile, and nodded. It would be good to fly again, even under such serious circumstances as those they now faced.
With that, he turned, looked out over the rest of the X-Wings. It took him a second to realise precisely what was wrong; only eleven Starfighters occupied the stand-by area. One of the ten T69 X-Wings were gone, leaving a neat little void in the space between the two standard StealthX's that would be joining them and filling out the missing Squadron slots. A small frown flitted across his eyes, and he turned, crossing to their resident squadron head technician, a question forming on his lips. As he crossed the duracreet, his eyes scanned the standing craft more closely, and by the time he had completed the short walk, he was fairly sure that he knew the answer to his question.
"Who's in the air already?"
The head technician turned his insectoid head to Dav. He was Zraii, a Verpine with a long, distinguished history of working with the finest Starfighter Squadrons in the Galaxy. Zraii had been the technician who had prepped the X-Wings of Rogue Squadron for their campaign to take Coruscant. In the decades since, the Verpine had refined many of his techniques, learned to speak basic, and helped development some innovative new starfighter maintenance techniques. Some said he was one of the best. After nearly nine years working with the Verpine tech, the Jedi Master was inclined to agree.
=Zraii=
"The new Pilot. Lita Trykk, Master Man'Zell. Zeemzz zhe wanted to zcout ahead. Told the attendant zhe'd rendezvous with the zquadron in the air."
Dav's frown deepened, and he turned to look out at the empty slot. His eyes were drawn by a clear, strong voiced shout to Jago, just engaging, quite vocally, in conversation with the on duty crew chief for the hangar, and from the gestures and facial clues, he guessed Jago was asking about the same thing.
Then another thought occurred to him.
With everything that's happened, I forgot to discuss Lita's appointment to the Squadron with him.
He grimaced to himself, before turning back and nodding to Zraii.
"Alright, thanks, Zraii. And, uh..." He gestured to his X-Wing. "Good job. As always."
He turned, walked away, his mind on Lita, and on his distracted mind, and his subsequent failure to let Jago know who his new wingmate would be. He hadn't expected her to fly just yet. So long as she was still commanding on the ground, still only grabbing simulator time in the spare moments she could, it hadn't been a priority discussion to have with Jago. And then this mission had arisen so suddenly, he had barely had time to get back, get the details, check over - and agree on - Jago's mission plan, run a short and incredibly quick briefing, and get himself prepped. Lita had slipped in last, at the back of the room. She'd slipped out first, intent on getting on, Dav supposed, before Jago had had a chance to turn his head. They'd not actually crossed paths, and so Jago remained oblivious.
Too late now...
It wasn't ideal. But very little around them was. Dav would just have to trust Jago to handle it appropriately when he worked it out. As he watched the rest of the pilots file in, watched Tebana and Zuli talking on the far end of the launch area – clearly, neither of them had spotted him yet – he realised it was about time to load up and get going.
He crossed to his X-Wing, swept his flight helmet up off of the floor, and clambered up the ladder to the cockpit, pausing only to give a smile to the familiar sight of his little burgundy R2 droid in his rightful place behind the cockpit. He was settled into his seat and buckled in before the flight attendant had had a chance to even reach the ladder to remove it, and had the X-Wing's engines whining lightly through their start-up cycle within a few more seconds. His computer systems came to life, panels around him lighting up one at a time as their associated systems came online. He ran through his pre-flight checks as the canopy closed around him, slipping his helmet on as he did so, and then powered up the comm systems.
"Dirty, you with me buddy? I'm reading all green and ready to go here, how about you?"
The droid tweeted back a cheerful confirmation, and Dav nodded, a small smile. Through the viewport, he could see the rest of the X-Wings filling up. Wyren Starla had entered her X-Wing already, and Ehrik Jaimse was just climbing into his. Thanks to a little inventive adaptation, the two non-Force sensitive pilots would be achieving something never done before – piloting in a StealthX Squadron.
Just one more thing that's not exactly ideal, but if it works...
He adjusted his comm. microphone, and brought the transceiver online.
"Wyren, Ehrik, do you hear me?"
=Captain Wyren Starla, Dragon Eleven=
::Reading you loud and clear, lead.::
Dav smiled tightly. Wyren Starla might not have been a Force Sensitive, but she could cope with the plotting challenge lain before her in a way that very few other people in the Galaxy could. Her and Ehrik Jaimes both had proven themselves time and time again. He gave it a minute, until Jaimes had called in as well, then switched over to a private channel to just those two.
::I know this is a big ask for both of you. But I also know you're both up to the task. Just remember, exactly as I laid out in the briefing. Follow your wing's leads and maintain comm-silence until we engage the enemy. Then they'll defer to flying your support. Use the burst transceivers only when absolutely necessary, keep messages short, and account for the delay in transmission and decoding at the receiving end. And don't forget, the range of those transceivers is only ten clicks.::
The two pilots confirmed, and Dav left them to their prep. His own X-Wing was ready to fly, but he wanted to see the others safely out of the hangar first. He watched the bustling around him, watched the trees sway in the wind and rain through the vast, currently open hangar doors. His mind was drawn back, again, to Lita's new position within the squadron.
He settled in to wait, dipping lightly into the Force, finding Jago's mind, and sending him a sensation of reassurance. 'Trust me, it'll be fine', the sensation said. Until they were fully submerged in the Force Meld, Dav wouldn't be able to communicate anything clearer than that, not with his own tiredness, and Jago's busy thoughts. He let his connection to Jago slip away, and reached out to find Tebana's instead. She'd finished her conversation with Zuli, and found her seat in the cockpit of her X-Wing since he had last looked her way.
He sent just the hint of a feeling. The empathic equivalent of a small, wearied smile, seeking a little reassurance of his own.
-
Ronan Starflare
- TORPEDO!
- Posts: 94
- Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2013 2:34 am
Re: Hangar
::Dragon Eight, four lit and ready to dance.::
-
Tebana Sor
- Posts: 57
- Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 6:40 pm
Re: Hangar
Tebana had exchanged a few words with Master Zuli, gathering reassurance in the calm, and measured Jedi Master’s presence. The parted with smile and shook hands, just as Eryad Arden came dashing from the elevator’s platform before it was completely halted on the ground floor of the Hangar where the Stealth-X had been readied in a neat formation according to their flight call signs and organisations. Except for one, everyone was there, all pilots getting ready for take-off.
The Jedi Knight skidded to a halt in front of the X-Wing just beside Tebana’s exchanged an apologetic look with the older Jedi Masters, before quickly signing off on her craft and clambering into the cockpit. There was a story to tell right there, but it would be told some other time.
Tebana climed into her cockpit, depositing her helmet on the front shield before sitting down and starting various pre-flight diagnostics.
In the middle of R6’s running of calculations according to Jago’s and Dav’s flight pattern to the reception point where they would push through the blockade to bring Ronan home, she felt the familiar brush against her consciousness. Dav had snuck by her into the hangar and into his cockpit. He seemed apprehensive through their bond, tired and guarded.
A “what’s wrong” was on her mind, but was quickly replaced by a bright pulse of reassurance that weaved its way not only across the hangar bay, but also where she knew Dav was linked to her consciousness and her mind.
<< So, you get points for sneaking past without me noticing. But, you lose points for avoiding me, Master Man’Sell. >>
The words were accompanied by the equivalent of a playful smile. She could tell that he was tired, exhausted and that any kind of mental and physical reserves - that even if they were quite impressive in the case of Jedi Master Dav Man’Sell - were reaching a low. She would have to take action after this run.
Now however, all she could do, was offer him a smile and some teasing. It would at least lighten both their moods.
She missed him. In every way conceivable. His whole presence, his being. She felt separated from him, even though 5 days seemed like such a short time in the face of all the things that had happened. But… they belonged together and they both had accepted that long ago. It did nothing for the way they accepted the distance brought upon them through duty and responsibility, however.
<< The odds of pulling this one off are not really for us. This should be fun. >>
She half stood, grabbed her helmet and shot a teasing smile towards Dav, already sitting in his cockpit, and she accompanied it with another brush against his mind and sat back down.
“R6, do you still know how all of this works?”
Her question was met by a flurry of annoyed whistles and beeps. Clearly, the red astro mech did remember how to fly a Dragon Stealth-X with all its particulars and modifications.
“Don’t be touchy. I haven’t flown at all in the opening battle, so you’ll have to put up with me bumping around and messing up all your accurate calculations.”
Clearly, admonished, the little astro mech, responded with a low key whistle that was its equivalent of a ‘uh-hu’ as far as astro-mech sarcasm went.
::This is Dragon Three signing in.::
<< Eryad, next time do try to be on time when we try to flip the odds in our favour, please…? >>
::….. Dragon…. Four. All set. :: Came the flustered reply over the coms.
And with that, all preflight tests and diagnostics were run. They were ready.
The Jedi Knight skidded to a halt in front of the X-Wing just beside Tebana’s exchanged an apologetic look with the older Jedi Masters, before quickly signing off on her craft and clambering into the cockpit. There was a story to tell right there, but it would be told some other time.
Tebana climed into her cockpit, depositing her helmet on the front shield before sitting down and starting various pre-flight diagnostics.
In the middle of R6’s running of calculations according to Jago’s and Dav’s flight pattern to the reception point where they would push through the blockade to bring Ronan home, she felt the familiar brush against her consciousness. Dav had snuck by her into the hangar and into his cockpit. He seemed apprehensive through their bond, tired and guarded.
A “what’s wrong” was on her mind, but was quickly replaced by a bright pulse of reassurance that weaved its way not only across the hangar bay, but also where she knew Dav was linked to her consciousness and her mind.
<< So, you get points for sneaking past without me noticing. But, you lose points for avoiding me, Master Man’Sell. >>
The words were accompanied by the equivalent of a playful smile. She could tell that he was tired, exhausted and that any kind of mental and physical reserves - that even if they were quite impressive in the case of Jedi Master Dav Man’Sell - were reaching a low. She would have to take action after this run.
Now however, all she could do, was offer him a smile and some teasing. It would at least lighten both their moods.
She missed him. In every way conceivable. His whole presence, his being. She felt separated from him, even though 5 days seemed like such a short time in the face of all the things that had happened. But… they belonged together and they both had accepted that long ago. It did nothing for the way they accepted the distance brought upon them through duty and responsibility, however.
<< The odds of pulling this one off are not really for us. This should be fun. >>
She half stood, grabbed her helmet and shot a teasing smile towards Dav, already sitting in his cockpit, and she accompanied it with another brush against his mind and sat back down.
“R6, do you still know how all of this works?”
Her question was met by a flurry of annoyed whistles and beeps. Clearly, the red astro mech did remember how to fly a Dragon Stealth-X with all its particulars and modifications.
“Don’t be touchy. I haven’t flown at all in the opening battle, so you’ll have to put up with me bumping around and messing up all your accurate calculations.”
Clearly, admonished, the little astro mech, responded with a low key whistle that was its equivalent of a ‘uh-hu’ as far as astro-mech sarcasm went.
::This is Dragon Three signing in.::
<< Eryad, next time do try to be on time when we try to flip the odds in our favour, please…? >>
::….. Dragon…. Four. All set. :: Came the flustered reply over the coms.
And with that, all preflight tests and diagnostics were run. They were ready.
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Zuli Madoon
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Sun Nov 17, 2013 8:57 pm
Re: Hangar
::Dragon 9, all systems go..::
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Joshua Kierra-Solo
- Posts: 51
- Joined: Sun Nov 24, 2013 1:41 am
Re: Hangar
I'm in Dragon Squadron!
"Wow... I'm in Dragon Squadron!"
"Hello there... R9-D8... No nickname for that designation? Really? Well its gotta be Date right? That's a good name."
Date is sufficient for our purpose, though I lack sufficient programming to conclude whether it is, in fact, a good name.
"It is, Date. Trust me."
:: Dragon Twelve, four lit and ready to go! ::
"Wow... I'm in Dragon Squadron!"
"Hello there... R9-D8... No nickname for that designation? Really? Well its gotta be Date right? That's a good name."
Date is sufficient for our purpose, though I lack sufficient programming to conclude whether it is, in fact, a good name.
"It is, Date. Trust me."
:: Dragon Twelve, four lit and ready to go! ::
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