Intrepid On
It's Own
Chapter ??-Diamondback's Patrol
by Zhaim
Jifarr
Due to some people in flights I and II being on leave, MAJ
Azazel
had decided that Flight III should take the first turn in the
patrol
rotation, while he worked on how to divide the rest of the
duty
roster. That's my flight. Boy did I feel lucky. There's nothing
like
working in the simulators for an hour or two and then, just as
you're
starting to peel off your sweaty duty uniform, you have to
put on one
of those uncomfortably tight flight-suits. And, as if
those things
aren't constricting enough, then you have to put on
your claustrophic
helmet and squeeze into the smallest cockpits in
the known universe.
"Diamondback flight, let me know when you're
ready to launch," said
the Flight Controller over the comm.
"Roger, Control," replied CPT Drako. "You heard the man, Flight
III. Check your gauges one more time and report status."
"Roger,
Drako. Two is ready," said MAJ Michael.
"Three here. I'm ready," said
CPT Marcin.
There was a pause. "Zhaim, report in," ordered
Drako.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I'm still having trouble with my laser
recharge gauge. It's working now, but is still quirky," I
said.
"So are you saying you're ready?" asked Michael.
"Yes, sir.
Sorry. I'm ready to launch."
"Have the techs look at that thing again
as soon as we get back,
Zhaim. And let me know if they give you any
trouble. They like to
ignore junior officers, but i guarantee they
won't ignore me," said
Drako.
"Roger that, sir," I said
enthusiastically. I'd been getting the
run-around from the techs
since I'd come on board The Intrepid. I
thought it was high-time for
it to end. But first we had this boring
patrol to
perform.
"Diamondback Flight III ready for launch, Control."
"You
are cleared for launch, Diamondbacks. Hope you have a boring
patrol
out there," replied Flight Control.
"Thanks, flight," said Drako.
"Fire 'em up guys. Do this by the
book. And form up on me as soon as
we clear the flight deck."
"Roger," said Michael.
"You got it,"
said Marcin.
"That's a big 10-4, chief," I said.
I checked my
status lights again and engaged the repulsors and
stirred the
flightstick a little to make sure it was responsive. Then
I watched
as first one and then the other two members of my flight
slowly
floated forward into space. I was right behind them.
"Throttle up and
form on me," came Drako's next order.
Then from the Flight
Controller, "Okay, Diamondback III. It's all
on you. Stay frosty and
keep your eyes peeled. This hasn't exactly
been the friendliest
quadrant recently. And things have quiet for too
long. Good luck.
Report in if you pick up anything on your scopes."
"Roger, Intrepid.
We have you covered," replied Drako. "Alright
guys, stay
alert."
Michael said, "Sure. Another boring patrol."
"I'm sooo
excited," I said and voiced a fake yawn.
"Cut the sarcasm, and watch
out for anything," ordered CPT Drako.
"Right, we don't want to be the
flight that let Intrepid down,"
pointed out Marcin.
Feeling
properly chastised, I ran another system check and
concentrated on
maintaining correct position and spacing in the
formation. This was
the exciting fighter pilot life I had dreamed
about. I couldn't
believe it. I hated patrol duty. It's the only
thing more boring
than customs inspection duty.
I, LCM Zhaim Jifarr, had been a
pilot since before I was of legal
age to get my license. I'm from
Corellia, where my mom was a
university professor and my dad was a
detective in CorSec. Their
vacation-liner disappeared on their way
back from a second honeymoon
vacation trip to Coruscant when I was
eleven years old.
My Uncle Jace finished raising me after that. He
was a freighter
captain with a large transport company based on
Corellia. I spent
most of my teenage years working just about every
crew position on
just about every sized freight hauler in the
galaxy.
I had resigned myself to working that boring end of the
pilotting
spectrum and was ready to propose to my long-time
girlfriend, a free-
lance computer specialist on Corellia, when she
decided to take a job
offer to work for the NR on Coruscant.
I
had to break it off. I feel the New Republic is nothing but a
poor
substitute for the Old Republic's corruption and am sickened by
Corellians who would allow my home planet to become subjugated to
such a poor form of galactic government. I was primed for
recruitment
when, three weeks later, I found myself waiting for a
reload on
Aurora Prime. I stopped by the TIE Corps' recruitment
pavilion at a
jobs fair I'd happened to come across while wandering
around the
system's beautiful capitol city. And the rest, as they
say, is
history.
After a few weeks of training, (I was told I
"flew" through The
Academy Flight Certification and Core Course in
near-record time) I
got lucky enough to receive my requested
assignment to Diamondback
Squadron. Now it was several months later
and the new had started to
wear off of the whole experience, even
though I had already managed
to get promoted to Lieutenant Commander
and had several
responsibilities entrusted to me.
Only a month
ago, I had been granted entry into the Brotherhood of
Dark Jedi and
was now part of that mysterious organization's Sith
Order in
addition to my TC duties. I had been recruited into The
Brotherhood
by my wingman, Azazel, only a week before he'd had to
leave active
service in The Brotherhood in order to take over the
CMDR slot in
Diamondback. I was still pretty new at some much pf
this, but took
my darkside force training seriously. I was beginning
to develope
certain senses that I'd always assumed were just lucky
hunches or
subconscious use of experience.
But patrol missions were still as
boring as watching a Bantha race.
Twenty minutes later, I was
still ruminating on how I could find a
way to spice things up around
here just a little, when I suddenly
sensed danger through The Force.
"Captain Drako, this is Zhaim. I
think something's about to happen,"
I called over the comm channel.
"What is it, Zhaim?" Drako
asked.
"I'm not sure, but..."
I was suddenly cut off by
Intrepid's Flight Controller. "Head's up,
Diamondback Flight!
Scanners show multiple starfighter-sized ships
coming out of
hyperspace."
"Check your lasers, shields, and counter-measures
pilots," came
Drako's order. "Throttles to max. Zhaim, cover
Michael. Marcin,
you're with me."
A chorus of, "Roger", followed.
And then several blue blips
appearred on my display as if by
magic.
"Pirates!" yelled the Flight Controller. "Diamondback flight,
move
to intercept."
A heavily accented voice I'd never heard
before suddenly croaked
from the comm speakers, "Give in Imperial,
and no one get hurt."
There was not even the slightest pause before I
heard The Commodore
of The Intrepid, VA Brakka, fire back his reply.
"Not a chance,
pirate scum. Say your prayers."
"Diamondback Lead,
you are cleared to attack," said the Flight
Controller.
"You
heard him guys," called Drako. "Light 'em up!"
I couldn't help
myself. After months of simulator runs, training
excercises, and
boring nothing-happening patrol missions, I was
psyched up. Finally
some real live action! I keyed my microphone and
yelled,
"WooHoo!!"
The pirates were attacking with a dozen antiquated R-41
starchasers, and had started their attack farther away from Intrepis
than any skilled tactician normally would have done. But I'm still
much too junior of an officer to be required to dwell on such
points.
My job was simply to blast these dimwits into oblivion. The
CMDRs and
Flags could worry about that stuff.
I filed that
information away, set my lasers to maximum recharge,
and shunted
some excess energy to my shields. After checking on what
targets my
wingmates had already locked onto, I brought the next
nearest one to
me up on my targeting display and switched weapons
over to advanced
missiles. They were flying almost straight at us,
and were just
coming into range. A second later, my targeting box
went red and a
second after that went full red.
"I have a lock on number four," I
called and fired. "Fire in the
hole." I twitched the flight stick a
hair to the right, and depressed
the "hat" button, targeting another
ship. He was closing fast, and I
didn't have time for a full lock. I
let my instincts take over and
fired "from the hip".
Apparently
my colleagues had done similarly, because as soon as I
was clear of
the exploding debris field caused by the explosion of
that second
target, I looked down at my display and only counted 3
blue blips
remaining. Someone had obviously managed to get off a
third good
shot, and my money was on Michael. He hadn't been CMDR of
the
suadron when I first joined it simply because of his paperwork
skills.
Turning to go after the remaining pirate ships. I
suddenly had a
premonition, but was afraid it was too late. Drako
was just blasting
the last pirate starfighter to bits with a pair of
quad-linked laser
shots, when a call came over the comm channel from
The Intrepid.
"What's going on out there, Drako?" GN Wil Striker
yelled. "Something just hit The Intrepid near the flight deck, but
there's nothing on the scanners."
"I'm not sure, sir," Drako
admitted. "We didn't see anything but
the pirate losers we just
blasted into spacedust and none of them
were even armed with any
kind projectiles, much less had a chance to
fire any."
"Well good
work taking them out so quickly, but stay alert,"
Striker ordered.
"Something's not right here and unfortunately the
flight deck is now
jammed. We can't get anyone out there to assist
you."
"Roger,
Wil," Drako replied. "We've got you covered."
"I know you guys were
listenly, Flight III," Drako said to the rest
of us. "We're on our
own. Not only is Intrepid on her own, but now
we're all alone out
here defending her. So stay sharp."
"I should have known better than
to start complaining about being
bored," I silently lamented to
myself. "It's always a bad idea,
because things have a way of
suddenly getting too exciting right
after that."
FM/LCM
Zhaim Jifarr/Diamondback 3-4/Wing XIV/ISD-II Intrepid
Great work
Zhaim i liked it!
