“Juke! Juke! Juke!” J-13 cried into the radio, slamming his yoke to the left, trying hard to get a bead on the TIE fighter that was closing in on his wing mate. His Y-Wing was working at it's optimum sluggish speed and the TIE was just below the horizon of his helm so he couldn't bring his ion cannon to bear. “Damn wishbone, get on the damn TIE.” J-13 slammed down his metallic hand on the transmit button. “Damn it Dett juke right and I have him.”
“I'm trying, it's not responding!” Dett cried in the radio.
J-13 checked his sensors, there was nothing on his tail, otherwise he'd never do this. He cut his throttle back, giving him a wider field of fire and bringing the TIE into his firing cone. His lasers weren't quite to bear, but his left hand spun the ion controls firing a quick succession of shots in the TIE's general direction, grazing the Imperial pilot and making him juke, breaking his line of sight on Dett. “Get it under control Dett and then back me up.”
The TIE started to come around, starting a head-on attack on J-13. That wasn't going to work on the wily old droid. Angling his shields to double front his hand slapped the ion control button that locked his cannons to the front and put them on the same fire control as his lasers and be came in line, facing off against the TIE. The TIE began plastering his shields with laser fire at maximum range, which did no damage but muddied up his view. J-13 saw it as little more then flying through a tough rainstorm. He kept his focus on the TIE and when he had the perfect shot lined up, one flick of the button and he holed the TIE.
J-13 didn't breathe a sigh of relief or wipe his brow. He checked sensors and saw no hostiles in the immediate area. Dett's craft was still flying in a straight line. J-13 hit the comm, “Dett, sitrep.”
Dett's voice was anxious. “I can't, I can't get any response. I'm losing it Captain.”
Checking his communications J-13 couldn't get a reading from Dett's R5 unit. “Dett, get your R5 to fix it.”
“He's gone sir, the eyeball took him out.”
J-13 brought his Y-Wing to bear on the satellite that was the target of their attack. “Shut your engines off, bring down all systems but life support and communications. If I survive the attack run I'll be back for you.”
“Aye-aye Captain,” Dett radioed as his movement came to a halt on J-13's sensors.
J-13 switched his transmitter over to the main squadron channel. “Bravo squad, call off by the numbers.”
Bravo Squadron
Moderators: VagueDurin, Nichalus
Bravo Squadron
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
Re: Bravo Squadron
“Orbital defenses are down, Bravo Squadron, form up on me and have your R-units ready to receive telemetry,” J-13 broadcast in the open. They still had shields they needed to punch through on the satellite, which meant they needed to concentrate a volley of proton torpedoes on the satellite's shields. Simultaneous firing while piloting was a a difficult maneuver, one most fighter squads never learned, but for Bravo Squadron this was standard operating procedure.
Checking his comms to make sure all the Y-Wings were getting his telemetry, J-13 had his R5 run a quick scan on the shields, looking for their weakest point. After a minute he had the information, he aimed up on it and fired, two streaks of blue erupting from every Y-Wing left in the squadron. The torpedoes hit and the shields crumbled. J-13 aimed up on the power core and a second volley set off a chain reaction of explosions across the space station and sent the fiery husk of the former satellite spiraling down in the planet's gravity well.
The squadron's main channel erupted in cheers. J-13 waited for the ruckus to die down before transmitting, “Primary mission accomplished, the fifth largest shipyard in this sector has been destroyed. The Empire has been dealt a serious blow today. Congratulations. Bravo 2, you will swing by and pick up Dett and bring the squadron back to base before the Empire arrives seeking retribution.”
“Acknowledged lead, I will pick up Dett and bring back the squadron. Where will you be Cap?”
“I will salvage Dett's craft.” J-13 was the only logical choice. He didn't need a suit to survive in vacuum and he could communicate with the R-series droids without a translator. Over the last two decades he had acquired some experience working on these machines.
“Orders acknowledged Captain,” Bravo 2 said over the comm. “Bravo Squadron form up on me.”
Picking up Dett was easy enough. Bravo 2's Y-Wing was a two-seater, designed to be flown with a gunner, so there was room for Dett. J-13 was already out of his ship, along with his R5 and floating over to the damaged Y-Wing while Dett was making his own spacewalk. The squadron formed up on Bravo 2 and a private comlink message came across from J-13's second in command. “Get home safe sir.”
“Of course,” was the old droid's reply, “Ten hours after you get back I want everyone in simulators working on dogfighting.”
“Ten hours? Why that's almost enough time to sleep and eat,” came Bravo 2's sarcastic reply.
“We lost too many good pilots today, Two. Get them in the simulators.” Bravo 2 didn't reply so J-13 turned his attention back to the damaged Y-Wing. Less then a minute later Bravo Squadron disappeared into hyperspace.
Two hours later they were almost done. There was a leak in the hyperdrive that needed to be welded, which was the hardest part. The R5 had handled that while J-13 rewired the flight controls. It was a field repair and J-13 would never count on it in combat, but it would get the ship home.
A trill and a beep came over the comlink. J-13 turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough there was the flash of pseudo-motion that signaled a ship's entrance from hyperspace. J-13 closed the panel he was working on, fastened it, then maneuvered himself through the weightlessness of space to land in the cockpit of the broken Y-Wing. Turning on the ship's systems, the sensors revealed to him that it was a Carrack-class cruiser. The Carrack was the smallest star cruiser in the galaxy, but pound for pound it was easily the deadliest, carrying enough weapons for a ship twice it's size. Luckily it didn't have a fighter compliment.
J-13 keyed his comlink. “Get yourself in the socket R5.” The droid bleeted an off-color comment. “You're taking this thing back to base, I'll be flying our ship.” The R5 unit twittered. “Because I'm the combat pilot.” The droid blatted a reply. “Just get this junk heap home R5.” The astromech droid whistled something. “I'm your superior officer I won't be talked to like that.” The R5 beeped. “Apology accepted.” J-13 hopped out of the cockpit, closing it after him. “Now get going.”
J-13 fired off his harness' maneuvering jets and angled back to his ship. He was warming his ship up as his R5 went into hyperspace. J-13 checked his sensors, certain that the other fighter entering hyperspace would get the Carrack's attention. He was right, the capital ship was maneuvering toward him. While the engines warmed up J-13 turned his ship, pointing it at the Carrack, starting a full sensor scan. Once the capital ship was in maximum range J-13 fired a series of ion cannon blasts as he turned his Y-Wing, then opened up the throttle, blasting away from the capital ship, accelerating at a rate the larger ship could not match. Once he got up to speed J-13 entered the relative safety of hyperspace.
Checking his comms to make sure all the Y-Wings were getting his telemetry, J-13 had his R5 run a quick scan on the shields, looking for their weakest point. After a minute he had the information, he aimed up on it and fired, two streaks of blue erupting from every Y-Wing left in the squadron. The torpedoes hit and the shields crumbled. J-13 aimed up on the power core and a second volley set off a chain reaction of explosions across the space station and sent the fiery husk of the former satellite spiraling down in the planet's gravity well.
The squadron's main channel erupted in cheers. J-13 waited for the ruckus to die down before transmitting, “Primary mission accomplished, the fifth largest shipyard in this sector has been destroyed. The Empire has been dealt a serious blow today. Congratulations. Bravo 2, you will swing by and pick up Dett and bring the squadron back to base before the Empire arrives seeking retribution.”
“Acknowledged lead, I will pick up Dett and bring back the squadron. Where will you be Cap?”
“I will salvage Dett's craft.” J-13 was the only logical choice. He didn't need a suit to survive in vacuum and he could communicate with the R-series droids without a translator. Over the last two decades he had acquired some experience working on these machines.
“Orders acknowledged Captain,” Bravo 2 said over the comm. “Bravo Squadron form up on me.”
Picking up Dett was easy enough. Bravo 2's Y-Wing was a two-seater, designed to be flown with a gunner, so there was room for Dett. J-13 was already out of his ship, along with his R5 and floating over to the damaged Y-Wing while Dett was making his own spacewalk. The squadron formed up on Bravo 2 and a private comlink message came across from J-13's second in command. “Get home safe sir.”
“Of course,” was the old droid's reply, “Ten hours after you get back I want everyone in simulators working on dogfighting.”
“Ten hours? Why that's almost enough time to sleep and eat,” came Bravo 2's sarcastic reply.
“We lost too many good pilots today, Two. Get them in the simulators.” Bravo 2 didn't reply so J-13 turned his attention back to the damaged Y-Wing. Less then a minute later Bravo Squadron disappeared into hyperspace.
Two hours later they were almost done. There was a leak in the hyperdrive that needed to be welded, which was the hardest part. The R5 had handled that while J-13 rewired the flight controls. It was a field repair and J-13 would never count on it in combat, but it would get the ship home.
A trill and a beep came over the comlink. J-13 turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough there was the flash of pseudo-motion that signaled a ship's entrance from hyperspace. J-13 closed the panel he was working on, fastened it, then maneuvered himself through the weightlessness of space to land in the cockpit of the broken Y-Wing. Turning on the ship's systems, the sensors revealed to him that it was a Carrack-class cruiser. The Carrack was the smallest star cruiser in the galaxy, but pound for pound it was easily the deadliest, carrying enough weapons for a ship twice it's size. Luckily it didn't have a fighter compliment.
J-13 keyed his comlink. “Get yourself in the socket R5.” The droid bleeted an off-color comment. “You're taking this thing back to base, I'll be flying our ship.” The R5 unit twittered. “Because I'm the combat pilot.” The droid blatted a reply. “Just get this junk heap home R5.” The astromech droid whistled something. “I'm your superior officer I won't be talked to like that.” The R5 beeped. “Apology accepted.” J-13 hopped out of the cockpit, closing it after him. “Now get going.”
J-13 fired off his harness' maneuvering jets and angled back to his ship. He was warming his ship up as his R5 went into hyperspace. J-13 checked his sensors, certain that the other fighter entering hyperspace would get the Carrack's attention. He was right, the capital ship was maneuvering toward him. While the engines warmed up J-13 turned his ship, pointing it at the Carrack, starting a full sensor scan. Once the capital ship was in maximum range J-13 fired a series of ion cannon blasts as he turned his Y-Wing, then opened up the throttle, blasting away from the capital ship, accelerating at a rate the larger ship could not match. Once he got up to speed J-13 entered the relative safety of hyperspace.
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
Re: Bravo Squadron
“Bravo 1 requesting permission to land.”
“Permission granted. Bring it in nice and easy Captain 13.”
“Acknowledged.” J-13 brought up his repulsors and cut the main engines, flying over the makeshift base and floating over a cushion of air onto the landing strip. He ran the Y-Wing through its standard shut down routines, being sure to download his sensor data to a memory chip.
He checked the ship's chrono before exiting the craft. His pilots should be in their bunks. Two techs were walking out of the a pocket carrier toward his Y-Wing as J-13 walked away. He waved and they walked over.
“Captain, good to have you back. You had us worried there,” the tech on his right said. It was a Sluissi. The Sluissi culture embraced technology as the highest art form. They also sided with the Confederacy against the Republic back in the clone wars. Now they offered covert support to the Rebel Alliance and next to humans there were more Sluissi in the Rebellion then any other species. In J-13's experience Sluissi treated droids better then most other specie. They treated J-13 like he was sentient, autonomous and equal. Most organic sentients had a tendency to treat droids like they were inferior. Of course, that could have something to do with the Confederacy losing the Clone Wars and Palpatine rewriting history to turn the droid armies into the stuff of nightmares for the citizens of the Empire. Or maybe there was another reason why the other tech, a human, wasn't looking J-13 in the eye, despite the droid being one of the second highest ranking officer at the base.
“Good to be back Mr. Banner,” J-13 said, offering his hand. The Sluissi shook it. J-13 pointed at his Y-Wing over his shoulder. “She's in fine shape, but I appreciate you taking a look at her.”
Mr. Banner grinned at the droid. “I'd be happy to Captain. Nice repair on the fighter your R5 flew in. It'll take us a couple days to get her spaceworthy again, but it shouldn't be a problem.” The Sluissi paused, and then his face lit up. “And R5 is fine.”
J-13 hung his head in shame for a moment. “Dett's R5 is in my Y-Wing. I don't know if you can recover him, he took a direct hit from a TIE fighter.”
“We'll do what we can.”
J-13 patted him on the shoulder again. “That's all I can ask.” J-13 offered the other Tech his hand. “Good day Mr. Spezlo.”
The human took a deep breath, shook the droid's hand, meeting his eye for a moment. “Captain.” Mr. Spezlo quickly looked away.
He could have made the human salute him, but J-13 didn't push it. There were more important things happening in the galaxy then one human with a droid bias. He turned and walked away, off to check on his pilots. He'd lost three good pilots on this mission, and his squad would take it hard. He needed to push them for the next week or so, until the chemicals in their bodies causing their grief dropped back to acceptable levels. Until then some of them would be edgy and volatile. Better to get that emotion drained off in the simulators or on the practice mats. And they'd have a range day tomorrow, force them into a situation where they had to be cautious and careful.
If J-13 breathed, he would sigh. He'd lost three good friends today. Two men and a woman who he would have gladly given up his transistors to keep alive. He paused for a moment on his walk to the portable durasteel tents that had been set up for Bravo Squadron, letting his own emotions cool. He didn't have the luxury of drowning his sorrow in alcohol, or losing himself in endorphins through exercise. No, he just needed to come to grips with the fact that he didn't control the universe, that he was just one infinitesimal cog in reality, doing all he could to stop a megalomaniac who now ruled the majority of the galaxy. All for the elusive concept of freedom, something he would most likely never experience in his long lifetime. J-13 took a moment to savor the irony, and then continued on toward the tents.
“Permission granted. Bring it in nice and easy Captain 13.”
“Acknowledged.” J-13 brought up his repulsors and cut the main engines, flying over the makeshift base and floating over a cushion of air onto the landing strip. He ran the Y-Wing through its standard shut down routines, being sure to download his sensor data to a memory chip.
He checked the ship's chrono before exiting the craft. His pilots should be in their bunks. Two techs were walking out of the a pocket carrier toward his Y-Wing as J-13 walked away. He waved and they walked over.
“Captain, good to have you back. You had us worried there,” the tech on his right said. It was a Sluissi. The Sluissi culture embraced technology as the highest art form. They also sided with the Confederacy against the Republic back in the clone wars. Now they offered covert support to the Rebel Alliance and next to humans there were more Sluissi in the Rebellion then any other species. In J-13's experience Sluissi treated droids better then most other specie. They treated J-13 like he was sentient, autonomous and equal. Most organic sentients had a tendency to treat droids like they were inferior. Of course, that could have something to do with the Confederacy losing the Clone Wars and Palpatine rewriting history to turn the droid armies into the stuff of nightmares for the citizens of the Empire. Or maybe there was another reason why the other tech, a human, wasn't looking J-13 in the eye, despite the droid being one of the second highest ranking officer at the base.
“Good to be back Mr. Banner,” J-13 said, offering his hand. The Sluissi shook it. J-13 pointed at his Y-Wing over his shoulder. “She's in fine shape, but I appreciate you taking a look at her.”
Mr. Banner grinned at the droid. “I'd be happy to Captain. Nice repair on the fighter your R5 flew in. It'll take us a couple days to get her spaceworthy again, but it shouldn't be a problem.” The Sluissi paused, and then his face lit up. “And R5 is fine.”
J-13 hung his head in shame for a moment. “Dett's R5 is in my Y-Wing. I don't know if you can recover him, he took a direct hit from a TIE fighter.”
“We'll do what we can.”
J-13 patted him on the shoulder again. “That's all I can ask.” J-13 offered the other Tech his hand. “Good day Mr. Spezlo.”
The human took a deep breath, shook the droid's hand, meeting his eye for a moment. “Captain.” Mr. Spezlo quickly looked away.
He could have made the human salute him, but J-13 didn't push it. There were more important things happening in the galaxy then one human with a droid bias. He turned and walked away, off to check on his pilots. He'd lost three good pilots on this mission, and his squad would take it hard. He needed to push them for the next week or so, until the chemicals in their bodies causing their grief dropped back to acceptable levels. Until then some of them would be edgy and volatile. Better to get that emotion drained off in the simulators or on the practice mats. And they'd have a range day tomorrow, force them into a situation where they had to be cautious and careful.
If J-13 breathed, he would sigh. He'd lost three good friends today. Two men and a woman who he would have gladly given up his transistors to keep alive. He paused for a moment on his walk to the portable durasteel tents that had been set up for Bravo Squadron, letting his own emotions cool. He didn't have the luxury of drowning his sorrow in alcohol, or losing himself in endorphins through exercise. No, he just needed to come to grips with the fact that he didn't control the universe, that he was just one infinitesimal cog in reality, doing all he could to stop a megalomaniac who now ruled the majority of the galaxy. All for the elusive concept of freedom, something he would most likely never experience in his long lifetime. J-13 took a moment to savor the irony, and then continued on toward the tents.
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky
Posts: 6
Joined: Fri Nov 11, 2011 10:30 pm
Joined: Fri Nov 11, 2011 10:30 pm
Location: utica, ms
Re: Bravo Squadron
This is a very interesting story, I would appreciate a continuance .
No greater an honor there is than to lay down my life for my Brother.
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