This week's mission is called "Com Blackout"

GREY TEAMS SEVEN AND FLIGHT TWO, REPORT TO GENERAL EFRATA-LANDIS.  I REPEAT - GREY SEVEN AND GREY FLIGHT GROUP TWO, REPORT TO GREY ONE!

::Several of the Cadets ran to General Castor's office - for the sole purpose of seeing how, and when, the Grey pilots arrived.  For their efforts, the Cadets found Grey already standing at Castor's door - the four Grey pilots stood comfortably in their flight suits, helmets in hand, as if waiting for the Cadets.  None could be accused of labored breathing, except for the Cadets::

::As the Cadets had rounded the last corner to 'RC's office (no one really knew what 'RC' stood for - that's just what most everyone called him.  There was a rumor that it had to do with something about the spice mines of Kessel, but nobody could figure out just exactly what) those Cadets were rewarded the knowing smirks from the members of Grey::

::As the Cadets stood agape unbelievingly, the Greys requested entry into Castor's office::

Ah, good!  You're here...

::the senior Grey interrupted::

Is there anything we can do about this?

::Castor nodded - knowing the context and reference of the question::

Dudes.  Sit down.  We've got a few short minutes.

::the Greys sat where they could - one sat on the floor by the door::

::Castor leaned over to the personal ComLink, and called for the other Grey pilots to assemble - those that were on board the Odin.  Within seconds, the present remainder of Grey was in Castor's office and sprawled where they could find the room::

Listen, I know that you're not happy about this.  Neither am I.  But we're not civilians.  And cooler heads will always prevail.  You guys have to understand...  It's not my decision.  It's not Greedo's, either - he's being reassigned just like the rest of us are.

What you know - what I have taught you, and what you have taught yourselves - has become of such extreme value throughout the Rebel Squadrons, the Republic Shield, and even within the Alliance itself, that High Command has seen fit to make this decision.  You're all leaders now - an inescapable fact that you can't deny.  Like it or not, accept it or don't, but the answer is still the same - High Command wants you to be more accessible.  More intimate with the Fleet.  They want you to get up close and personal with every single person in "this man's Navy".  Every last man of you is one of the best - no exaggeration, certainly no lie - you can't change that, and you wouldn't try to change it if you could.  But that's also why we're all in this position.

Yes, you don't have to like it.  Neither do I - I'd much rather be out there galavanting across the cosmos in pursuit of injustice, and righting wrongs the way you guys do.  But that's what the orders are.  It's kinda like the 5 mglt speed limit around Medical Frigates - everybody thinks it's a waste of time, but we all go 4.5.  We do it because that's what we've been told to do.  Even our enemy doesn't take breaking that rule lightly.

My master of the tunnels once told me:  "The first time I was a Drill Instructor I was too inexperienced for the job - the things I taught those boys and girls must have gotten some of them killed.  War is too serious a matter to be taught by the inexperienced."

Of course, it would also seem fair to say that he followed this up, almost immediately, with:  "Minimize your therbligs until it becomes automatic; this doubles your effective lifetime - and thereby gives you time to enjoy butterflies, kittens, and rainbows."

What the second has to do with the first is beyond me - I never figured it out.  But HE seemed to see a connection.  Living like we did, he may have been the single most crazy person alive.  Or the sanest - I'm not sure which.  But I have found much comfort and wisdom in his words time after time after time.

Here's another one for you to ponder:  "Your enemy is never a villain in his own eyes.  Keep this in mind; it may offer you a way to make him your friend.  If not, you can kill him without hate - and quickly."

Any questions?  Good, 'cause I don't have better, less cryptic, answers.

Now.  The "on duty" team stays.  Everyone else - out.

::the Greys rose from their positions around Castor's office.  None looked any happier than when they had come in, but Castor sensed less resistance to the inevitable::

Oh, wait a minute!  Before you go - just so you all know.  We studied the tapes of the last mission.  The shuttle that escaped from the area during the last mission - we've identified it as Flame.  She's still involved in all of this, and she's still helping us - and she's STILL not telling us where she's going to pop up.  Watch out for her in the future, she's a heckuv'an ally - we don't want to inadvertantly kill her.  I.D. anything that you think is odd.

::the Greys not concerned with this particular mission filed out, while the on duty teams stayed::

Now.

::Castor began after the doorway was clear::

We've gotten the location of the Star Hammer Project, along with some of the specs on it's local and remote guarding forces.  General Greedo and I are working on the plans for the assault on the Project.  In the mean time, we have to work on further separating the remote forces from the Project, and disrupting communications.  All the teams are involved in missions designed to help accomplish this.  If everything goes according to plan, we should be able to attack the main Project site in less than 24 hours.

You are assigned the duty of attacking and destroying the central communication station for the Project.  With this central station out, communications will have to be rerouted.  It will be impossible for them to obtain a new communications configuration before we attack the site itself and destroy it's local ComSat - but I'll save that for later.

It is essential that this ComStation be destroyed - the ComSat and the NavBuoy - but any capital craft that you can take out, as well, will be one less that we'll have to worry about later.  Seven, that's why you're in a B-Wing this time.

::Castor waited patiently until the ensuing tirade, which sounded quite like a miniature lecture on the "comparative similarities between, and tactical advantages of, B-Wings and Banthas", stopped::

Yes, well...

::Castor continued::

When Banthas come equipped with ions, as stardard equipment, then I'll consider the substitution.  Until then, we feel that you'll need the B-Wing's heavy shielding, reinforced hull strength, and large torpedo payload.  You'll also have ions in case you need them - if you get the opportunity to deal with shielded craft, I would suggest using them.

Flight 2 will fly support in A-Wings.  We know that there are four capital craft in the area; one Frigate, one Star Destroyer, and two Corvettes.  Expect the Corvettes to be Assassin Class, and carry their own TIEs.  Expect TIE resistance to be quite heavy, as well - they know how important this ComStation is just as well as we do.

Okay.  That's pretty much it.  Stop by MedOps and have your PLDs checked.  I don't want to lose you now.  I'll let them know you're on your way.

Good luck, my friends.

::Castor stood and shook hands with each of them, and followed the Grey team out.  As Grey headed down toward Medical, Castor started toward the General's office.  He pulled out his pocket com and alerted Rescue and Salvage that someone was needed in MedOps quickly.  Then he informed Medical that four Greys were on their way, and of the attention required.  By the time that he'd finished, he was at the Greedo's door.  It immediately whisked open and showed the General amid the tactical data pads, with a hologram of the Star Hammer Project floating in front of him.  Castor stood in the corridor, seeing that the Project and it's local guard were represented as red, the remote forces - slightly removed from the location of the Project - in orange, and the Alliance forces in green.  Greedo looked as if he'd not gotten any rest since the data had come in a few days ago - and he probably hadn't::

::the General looked up, motioned for Castor to enter.  With a buzz to his voice that Castor recognized as worried agitation, Greedo said as Castor stepped in::

This isn't looking good...

::and the door whisked shut::
