Retribution Fleet Stories : Tour 7, Mission 2


** Alternate Narrative P.OV. by Major Ryan Coburn & MRM Winner

Ryan wandered down the hallway of the Prometheus , muttering to himself about having to make reports in person. He had just gotten back from his little excursion on the old beat up Escort Shuttle Wandering Misfit and had to report what he was doing to the Fleet CO, Major General Adam Fene. He would have preferred to submit a report over the net and stay with the rest of Shadow onboard the Chains of Justice when they jumped. But, Vender had told him to report in person. So, here he was wandering down one of the many corridors of the Retribution Fleets flagship, trying to find some sort of duty officer who could tell him exactly where the Major General was. Ryan had finally made his mind up to head for the bridge and just wait for Vender to show up there eventually when the klaxons started sounding and the red emergency lights started going off.

What the hell Ryan started looking around the hall then sprinting back the way he came, to the nearest view port he knew of, one of the weapon bays.

  All hands, this is the Fleet Commander. We have just monitored the arrival of 2 Victory Class Star Destroyers in close proximity to us. Their transponders are registering as Imperial vessels and their shields are up. Sentinel Wing has already jumped, so were on our own people. We have fighters already deployed. All hands, this is no drill. Report to your battle stations and do me proud people. Vender Out. Came over the ship PA system.

  Well, at least I know where he is nowbut what the hell are 2 Victorys doing jumping us. Theres gotta be someone on board who told them where we are. The Prometheus is in no condition to take on a single Victory, much less 2 of themthis is gunna get ruff. Ryan muttered as he skidded to a halt outside one of the hatches to the weapon bays just as the shipped rocked under a long-range barrage from the closing enemy capital ships. The lights in the hall dimmed some and Ryan had to catch himself on the bulkhead as a tremble ran threw the ship. The shields evidently had only caught part of that volley as they where being raised it seemed. Ryan ran over and slapped the control on the door and was immediately greeted by a face full of smoke and the smell of burnt ozone on the air. Ducking inside he looked around. The room was still gutted and scorched from the Morba engagement and at least 2 of the 7 batteries on the room where being used as scrap parts to maintain the other 5. There where several people, parts of the gunnery crews by their uniforms trying to combat a small fire emanating from a control panel on the far side of the room. Theyd have it under control soon Ryan thought as his attention was drawn to a pile next to him that he and mistaken for remnants and spare parts when he first came in. He quickly unburied 2 men from the pile, one in a gunners uniform similar to those fighting the fire. Ryan checked his pulse. He was alive, but badly burned. He turned to check the second man, and recognized the universal symbol of the medical corps. The mad was out cold, bleeding from a wound on the side of his head. He too was alive but in serious condition.

  Ryan reached up and hit the comm. unit mounted on the wall of the room. Medical Emergency. Medical Response team to weapons battery room 5, starboard side. 2 men down, one badly burned. Hurry up people! Without waiting for a reply, he slapped the comm. off and shrugged out of his Synth-leather jacket that always accompanied him and put it over the burn victim. It was the best he could do, severe burn where not covered in the crash medical courses at the academy, and he was many years out of the academy. However, he did remember basic wound binding and could do something for the corpsman. Reaching down he ripped the medial pack from the corpsman side and opened it, and started bandaging the mans wound. The ship shuddered again and the lights dimmed a bit as more powered was pulled to the shields. They where getting closer, the shields where holding but the kinetic force of the bolts where still rocking the ship. Ryan finished bandaging the head wound on the corpsman just as the MRT came threw the doors. He helped the MRT members haul the 2 wounded out of the weapons room and into the hallway. Just as he was turning to head back into the room, the ship shuddered again, very violently this time and the power went off in the hall. Light still poured from the weapons room and the dim yellow emergency lighting came on in the hall. Ryan looked at the 3 members of the MRT just as more smoke came from the Weapons room, a mans screaming shortly followed.

  He pointed to 2 of the team members You 2, take these 2 up the hall to the emergency station. Be ready to get them in the emergency pods and get the hell out of here if its necessary. You, you come with me. Im gunna need some help in there. Ryan yelled

  He waited for them to nod before he turned and headed into the room. Behind him he heard the young female mon-cal he had told to stick with him call for more medical teams over her comm. link as she followed him in. The wounds where light, and most of the crews where picking themselves back up and resuming firing their weapons, but one of the gunners had a 2 ft piece of bulkhead shrapnel threw his right shoulder and out the back of his control chair. Ryan called for the med team member, and motioned her over to the man as he reached his side. The man was still screaming in pain, but was still firing his weapon one handed, teeth gritted in determination between screams of pain. The Mon Cal hit him with an injection of a knock out drug and checked him over for a moment before looking to Ryan and motioning to the shard. Ryan sighed and nodded before putting on his flight gloves and grabbing a hold of the shard. He nodded to the mon-cal and she held down on the gunner as Ryan yanked the shard out, his face sprayed with blood as he shard came free. The mon-cal slapped a emergency bacta patch on the wound helped Ryan lift the gunner and haul him outside of the gun battery. Ryan nodded to her as another medical team reached them and started taking care of the gunner. Ryan stood and ran back into the room. The ship shuddered and rocked one more time, the lights in the battery room going down this time to their emergency level. Ryan swore and jumped into the seat of the gunner he just freed and looked over the controls.

  Cant be THAT much harder than a fighter now can it. lets see. he was squeezing this. Ryan muttered as he surveyed the control panel and pulled the trigger looking mechanism that the gunner had been squeezing. The entire platform bucked under him as the weapon recoiled. He pulled down the sighting unit and got a fuzzy camera image from the barrel of the weapon. One of the Victorys was in flames already, drifting lazily to port, its control tower sheered off and its weapons firing sporadically.  The second Victory was close, much closer than Ryan liked, but was heavily scorched. He noticed some fighters sweep by and several explosions blossom off the prowl and shields of the second capital ship. Bombers. Ryan remembered a flight launching as he came aboard, a tech saying something about a training mission. Evidently it had been a live fire exercise.

  Ryan coughed away some smoke and looked away from the sight, that fire was burning again. Ryan looked close, and watched the flames being pulled toward the outer hull of the ship. There was a breach over there. He signaled one of the techs and pointed as the platform bucked under him again and again as he fired. The tech finally noticed what he was pointing at and started yelling for a couple other techs to help him maneuver a plate into place to seal the break. The hull moaned and the platform bucked again. Ryan returned to his sight and let lose volley after volley of turbo-laser fire at the second Victory.  He could make out how they splashed against shields in places, punched threw in others, and just completely bounced off on tangents at times. The victory returned a salvo full on the starboard side of the ship, several of the bolts punching threw the shields and slamming into the already much abused hull of the Prometheus , blossoming into explosions of flame and debris. One stray bolt hit in the next compartment over and shook the battery room severely. Ryans eyes began to water and his lungs burn as the fire spread to several other panels in the room and the toxicity of the burning wiring tripled. He looked away from the gun and looked over at the techs working on the breach. The panel was buckling badly and already the medical teams outside had removed several techs and gunners from the room because of the fumes. He motioned one of the med-techs over.

  Get everyone out of here now. Evacuate up to the emergency station. Ryan yelled over the blasts of the weapons and the moans of the hull. The med-tech nodded and started pulling people out repeatedly. Ryan turned back to his sights and started laying down a fire pattern. His eyes where watering badly and he was not sure that he was hitting anything. The dagger shape of the Victory was wreathed in a halo of flames and started pulling up and drifting. At least he thought it was. Finally the gun stopped kicking under him. He looked around, power to the station was exhausted, he had super-heated the coils into melting from the repeated firing. It was not un-usual, and right now, he didnt care. He got up, glanced around to make sure on one else was left in the room. He headed for the door, then heard a moan. The young female mon-cal that had helped him earlier was laying passed out in the chair of another gun she had taken over after its gunner had passed out and been removed. He staggered over and helped her out of her chair and started heading for the door, the door was swimming and behind him he heard the telltale sound of the emergency plate buckling and felt the ship shuddering. He was 2 feet from the door when he glanced back and saw, in slow motion, the plate actually pull away as if it was a sheet of tissue paper. He uttered an old Corellian curse and flung both he and the mon-cal out of the door just as the emergency sensors detected a hull breach and sealed the room. Ryan fell to the deck and watched his vision swim before it dimmed and he passed out altogether. It looked like he was gunna have to report to Vender later, and most likely from a medical bed


** Main Narrative P.O.V. by Lt. Commander Licah Fox

Coasting loosely in a TIE Bomber next to his perennial wingmate Dev Azzameen's identical craft, Licah Fox leaned back in his seat. He switched the comm to a very low-distance frequency.

"Cor, why are we in these slow krylls? You'd think they'd at least put us in some decent fighters for patrol duty. These are about the farthest from decent ships we've got for patrolling."

"At least they gave us a little bit of shielding," Dev replied.

"Fat lot of good that'll do. False sense of security, shields are."

The two pilots' comms crackled. A very officious-sounding voice spoke, "Liberator to Prometheus. We're requesting permission to start jump countdown."

Licah nodded. He and Dev had been in the bombers for half an hour, and he was looking forward to finally getting a bite to eat. If all went well, they'd be back in the hangar in ten minutes.

Licah watched as the majestic Sentinel Wing ships turned as one and shot into hyperspace. His comm crackled once again. "You think we'll get to rejoin our wing soon?"

"Probably. They can't do without two of their best pilots, y'know."

And then trouble struck, with a passion.

Popping out of hyperspace to assault the wounded Prometheus were a pair of Victory-class Star Destroyers, a Carrack Cruiser, and a pair of Corvettes. Licah cursed and throttled up, targeting the smaller Corvettes.

"Dev, we gotta chase 'em away right away, or we gonna be captured."
"Yeah."

Licah and Dev, easily evading the inept fire from the corvettes' gun turrets, each picked a target and sidled in behind it, firing one heavy rocket to shred the engines and another to detonate in the interior of the corvette, exploding them. Licah grinned as he pulled away from the simultaneous explosions of the corvettes.
"These guys are pretty damn stupid, if you ask me. Didn't even try to manuever away from us."

"Get that Carrack."
"Carrack?"
"Uh..yeah.. the one to port."
Licah frowned. "Odd.. it's showing up on my sensors as a Nebby."
"Whatever you may think it is, we need to take it out, and fast."

Licah brought the offending "frigate" up on his targeting computer, and frowned again.
"Its..shields are out.. the hell?"

"I don't know, but it sure wasn't like that when it arrived."

Licah grinned. Vender, he thought, whatever you did to that "frigate", you are a genius. Now we've got them.

Licah and Dev arrowed in on the Carrack Cruiser "Blue Feather" like two deadly birds of prey, rockets arching out in front of them..

=-=-=-=-=-=

General Aj'styn Gvaroii, commander-in-chief of the sector fleet currently plaguing the Retribution Fleet' Prometheus, barked out orders on the bridge of the Victory-class Star Destroyer "Black Hawk", but inwardly he was stunned. He had brought enough firepower to easily destroy an injured Imperial-class Star Destroyer, but somehow the battle had all gone wrong. With a sinking feeling that hadn't left him since he witnessed the Blue Feather's shields mysteriously vanish shortly after the battle began, he watched accurate laser fire from a pair of enemy TIE bombers methodically take out every gun turret on the Carrack Cruiser, then the horrible sight of rockets being launched at the bridge. He bit his lip as the Carrack began its death roll.

General Gvaroii turned his gaze to the Prometheus. Its shields were still holding strong, and the bombers that had destroyed his three smaller ships were now pointed directly at the Black Hawk and dodging every laser fired at them.

He still believed the battle could be won, but the Prometheus had already destroyed the Seige and was now heading on a course that would enable it in a minute to engage in a full broadside of the Black Hawk, a manuever that would almost certainly cook the Hawk's shields and some of the Hawk itself.

He realized the bridge had gone deathly still. All his crew were watching him.

Gvaroii sighed. "Signal the Red Hawk. Order a retreat. Our fighter cover is to stay."

He felt the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth at being outmanuevered by the Retribution Fleet's general. And with the way the Carrack's shields had been knocked out, he had no way of knowing whether it could be done to the Star Destroyers, and didn't want to find out. Unfortunately, he would now have to answer to his higher-ups as to just why yet another attempt at obliterating the Retribution Fleet had failed miserably.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Licah cheered as the Empire's Star Destroyers turned tail and vanished into the realm of hyperspace.
"Hell yeah man. Hell yeah."

There were some brights still flying around, but Licah had had enough. He followed Dev back to the hangar, to fight yet another day. As always, the R2F had emerged victorious again.


** Alternate P.O.V. by Major General Bethan Leitbur

It was, Captain Aren Solan thought to himself, almost too beneath him and his wingman to be flying something as sluggish as a dupe.  Not that he minded an easy escort mission where the only enemy he had to face was boredom, but it was not the type of enemy he liked to face very much.  He was a fighter pilot, specializing in dogfighting in craft much faster and agile than a TIE Bomber, and while he appreciated that General Fene felt that his unit needed some practice with heavy attack craft, he was at heart a space superiority pilot, and would always be so.

Then again he had been supplied with heavy rockets.  Most dogfighters would never take such a high yield warhead into space with them, as it was slower than missiles and torps, plus it was complete overkill for something as fragile as a fighter.  Having that sort of power at his fingertips was almost kind of an ego builder, it wasn't every day that someone could say that they had 1400 BLS of power at their fingertips. Heh, he should mention that to some of the local girls at the bar sometime, might get somewhere.

It was a rather lame mission though.  Why the Prometheus had followed Sentinel to Tricea was beyond him, another one of the brass's wargames most likely, but it seemed to him that it would be best to leave the Prometheus back at Aecreas where more techs could get as many of the internal systems up and running.  The other night the power had gone out in his quarters halfway through his shower, and with it went the heat inducer.  That had certainly given him a chill.  It went back on three minutes later, but that more than anything else told him that the Prometheus was not truly combat ready.  Still, he was learning that General Fene didn't like to play things safe, and that did worry him.

Aren watched as the last of the Sentinel taskforce jumped into hyperspace, on route for New Trask, and took a heavy sigh.  Well, it was time to head back to the barn.  It had certainly been a waste of his time, but at least it'd gotten him some flight time.  Yawning slightly, Aren reached to turn his comm to a squadron frequency when his sensors began to go crazy.  Shocked by the sudden event, Aren pulled up and away out of pure reflex before coming to full alert. What his sensors showed him made his heart sink.

Even as his mind began to register what a pair of Victory-class Star Destroyers, a Carrack Light cruiser and a pair of corvettes could do to the weakened Prometheus, orders from the flag came in.  "Captain, engage the capital ships at once, we'll try to give you some aid from the incoming fighters.  Prometheus out."

Great, what an order.  Pick a capital ship, ANY capital ship, and hope to do some damage.  Well he might as well focus his forces on the ones that  their payloads could kill cleanly.  "Form up on my wing, we're going in for the Carrack."


** Alternate P.O.V. by Commander Dash Xander

Dash woke up, cold. The slight hum of the bulkhead beside his bunk had given him a tingling sensation in his head. He sat up, shook his head and then pulled the blanket around him. The Hammer of Justice was a nice ship, but his cabin, being so close to the outside of the ship meant that it got cold sometimes. Rubbing his eyes, he got up and quickly washed. It was still very early, no one else would be up, but the cold meant that Dash couldnt sleep. Making his way towards the bar, the ship was quiet. He knew that it was still the major sleep period of the day, but still, other than a technician fixing a junction box, the journey from his quarters to the bar was empty. Walking into the bar, he sat down on a stool beside the counter. The bar was delved in darkness, with only a few spotlights scattered around creating a moody feel to the place. Being the established nightshift, most areas on the ship were darkened. The bartender walked over, polishing a glass with a silver cloth, and placed it in front of Dash.

"Your usual Dash?" he said in his customary deep voice. His name was Evan. A large man, probably in his late 50s, who pretty much kept himself to himself, although would always listen to others problems. In fact Dash would have sworn blind that he was better than any damn psychiatrist was. He had taken quite a shine to Dash, something about how he reminded him of himself all those years ago. Over the past few years Dash had got to know him well. He had been a sergeant in the army of the Old Republic and the early Empire, fighting in the clone wars, and retiring highly decorated.

Dash looked up at him and nodded groggily, overemphasising the fact that he was not yet awake properly. Evan smiled and went to the back of the bar and produced a tall purple flask, and from it poured into the clean glass a smooth, slightly viscous golden liquid.

"One Stroh fruit juice" Evan whispered, in conjuncture with the mood of the bar, and he replaced the cap on the bottle and put it on the bar. Dash took a sip, and his eyes lit up almost immediately. "So, whats on today? Something must be wrongyou usually drink your first glass all in one" gruffed the voice.

"Am I that transparent?" enquired Dash with a smirk on his face.

"Kid, if I had credit for each time Id seen someone your age looking like he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, Id be living on some tropical paradise instead of this drifting durasteal box!"

Dash raised an eyebrow in a quizzical fashion.

"Dont get me wrong, I like it here!" exclaimed Evan, now sounding slightly more enthusiastic tone.

"Well, its just the squad, or lack of." Dash sighed, "The squads almost empty. Going to be threatened with closure unless something happens."

"I wouldnt worry. Something will happen." Evan looked to the chrono on the wall. "You better hurry up too, I havent been paying too much attention lately, but I know youve got a mission this morning."

Dash groaned. Hed seen the missions spec already, and knew what he would be flying. Tie Bombers. Typical, even when he had been in the Imperial Navy he had hated them. The experience for him was much like trying to fly a waste storage unit (OOC: Dustbin then!) with engines strapped on. At least these ones had shields. Your average unshielded Tie Bomber with its dual hull could take a few more hits than its fighter cousin, but nothing so much as to make you feel at home in one of them.

Getting up from the bar, Dash waved goodbye and walked down to the hanger to inspect his craft. Other than the fact that it was a slightly older model, it was in perfect order. Checking the heavy rockets on board, Dash looked at his chrono again. Not long now, then he could go and relax. Moving towards the pilot ready room, Dash changed into his pressure suit and went down to sit in the briefing room. There was no one there. He amused himself by playing with the holographic projector and chuckled as he went though old briefings in fast forward watching simulated battle sequences occur in quad time.

Slowly, others began to arrive and shortly everyone was gathered. Dash almost slept through the briefing. It had almost become his trademark. What was the point of worrying about a mission? Just get out there and fly and deal with whatever comes up. Briefing over and Dash made his way down to the hanger and pulled himself aboard his craft. There were more people about now. The sleep period had ended and the flight deck was chaotic as flight techs, mechanics, pilots and support crew busied themselves with their tasks. Dash just couldnt wait to get out. Out into the quiet of space. Conformation came through, and releasing the docking clamps, the Tie Bomber moved gracefully out of the hanger entrance into the cold void. Around him it all went quiet but for the hum of the twin ion engines. Redirecting power to shields, Dash charged them to 200%. Always better to be prepared. How right he was. As the fleet moved off into hyperspace, leaving the stricken ISD behind, all hell broke lose, and for a few seconds Dash wished he hadnt got up this morning. From hyperspace emerged a Carrack Cruiser and 2 corvettes as well as several other craft that he didnt even register. The worse bit though were the fighters, TIE Advanced. They had been what Dash had flown on during his Imperial Days and not until joining the Alliance had he realised just how damn annoying they were. There was no way to take them down in a Bomber. Doing the best to avoid the enemy fire, he made for the corvettes since they were closing on the ISD. Moving in from behind the engines where a shallow, but effect blind spot of the corvette existed, Dash fired off a single rocket striking the hull with tremendous force almost collapsing the corvettes shields. Pulling up sharply, the corvettes turbo lasers locked on and brilliant bolts of red darted past the small Bomber. Rolling to avoid the turbolasers and Tie Advanceds, he cut the throttle causing the pursuing fighters to overshoot him. Coming around, he strafed the top of the corvette with an oblique angle so that the turbolasers couldnt hit him. His lasers took out the top turret, and barely pulled up in time to avoid the engine section. The hull was now several crippled and checking his targets status, he could see that they were preparing to hyper out. One last pass at 2/3 throttle gave him enough time to compromise hull integrity and the corvette split open. Selecting the next corvette, he rolled right and almost crashed into the Carrack Cruiser. Levelling out just in him he scraped the surface, but from behind he felt the impact as one of the pursuing TIE Advanceds had not been so fortunate. He smirked, and let off a rocket at the corvette. Again the shields buckled and a few strafes later the corvette exploded in a brilliant white light. Turning sharply, he locked onto the Carrack Cruiser that was now charging its hyperspace engines. It had already taken quite heavy damage from the ISD, and Dash did a quick calculation in his head. He figured that the damage caused by 2 rockets on a Carrack Cruiser would take down the hull by about 40%. Opening fire with his lasers he waiting until the critical 40% and then blindsighted the rockets. After all, the Cruiser was slow enough not to require any targeting. The dual rockets slammed into the cruiser and the hull immediately cracked. Arcing round to avoid the enemy fighters still in pursuit, he moved towards the ISD and let the turbolasers deal with the Tie Advanceds. Having lost 3 capital ships, the enemy forces retreated. The Tie Bomber, its shields still almost at full glided back into the hanger.



** Alternate P.O.V. by Captain Tiar Garnin

Tiar sat in the cockpit of his "advanced" fighter.  "A TIE Bomber, a freakin' TIE Bomber!"  He thought to himself, "Note to self, seek out Vender and have him assign Wraith Squadron with something better than a TIE Bomber."

He glanced out his cockpit window and saw as his two newest members, Colonel Jon Anchorage and CMDR Thuku, climbed into their fighters.  "Bossman," Said Thuku, "I don't like these things."

Jon laughed and said, "You aren't supposed to like them Thuku, just fly them." 

"Yeah but we could those new fighters that some of the others are flying." 

"Okay guys, let's fly!" Jon joked, "Lovely prep speech Tiar, absolutly lovely."

The three TIE Bombers headed for the several enemy ships that were heading for the Prom.  "Target the Carrack and the Modified Corvettes!  Launch from extreme range!"

The thre bombers targeted and fired.  Thuku said, "Tiar!  That's the last of my rockets!  I'm being targeted!"

Tiar checked his own thread detector, "So am I Thuku! 

Jon get around and fire so we can get !"  He noticed that Jon had been lazily flying his fighter around, launching rockets slowly.  

"Don't worry, I'm making sure that they all hit!"  He closed the distance and fired his last rocket.  Tiar checked the status of the Carrack and said, "Charge!" 

All three fighters rocketed forward.  The fired at the Carrack until it was destroyed.  The same thing happened for the two Modified Corvettes.  They blew escape pods right before the hulls themselves blew apart.

"Fighters!" Thuku said, "I've been saying that the whole time!  If it wasn't for my great piloting skills, I'd be dead!" The three fighters turned into the lasers of some T/A fighters and fired.  They saw some strikes on the solar panels of a couple of them but not enough to do any damage.  They split up and proceeded to take out the T/A's.

"Wraith Squadron, we are ready for our jump, return to the Prometheus or be left behind." The remaining RS fighters landed in the hanger cradles gently.  Jon got out and said, "I hate Bombers, they are slow, not exactly agile,..."  His voice trailed off as they left the hanger bay.



