Right on Time
Righ on Time
Summary: The Fighter Wing scrambles to save the new Commdore's ass.
Date: Date
Related Logs: None

A voice announces over the loudspeaker, "Now hear this! Now hear this! This is the Exec. All fighter pilots to your ships. Magnum Launch! Magnum Launch! This is no drill!"

Aquilina arrives from the Aft Lift.
Aquilina has arrived.
Paz arrives from the Aft Lift.
Paz has arrived.
Korsakov arrives from the Aft Lift.
Korsakov has arrived.
Foster arrives from the Aft Lift.
Foster has arrived.
Dante arrives from the Fore Lift.
Dante has arrived.
Kell arrives from the Fore Lift.
Kell has arrived.

< Aquilina Stiletto-1566W (plt ….. NOR/pass
< Bianca Scimitar-9039Q (plt ….. NOR/pass
< Dante Venture-0642O (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Foster Stiletto-8323V (plt ….. NOR/pass
< Kell Stiletto-8110N (plt ….. NOR/pass
< Koenig Broadsword-5535M (p ….. NOR/pass
< Korsakov HammerAndSickle (pl X…. NOR/pass
< Loflynn Broadsword-4824W (p X…. NOR/pass
< Paz Scimitar-6473D (plt ….. NOR/pass
< Team 2
< Combat Victoria (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Dralthi-1 Dralthi-1743O (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Dralthi-2 Dralthi-5743O (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Grikath-b Grikath-6640V (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Hhriss-1 Hhriss-0472R (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Hhriss-2 Hhriss-4272R (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Jalthi-1 Jalthi-8880F (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Jalthi-2 Jalthi-9080F (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Ralari Ralari-9755Q (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Sartha-1 Sartha-2194N (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Sartha-2 Sartha-5494N (plt) ….. NOR/pass
< Team 4
< Grikath-a Grikath-5940V (plt) ….. NOR/pass

<TC1> Majestic 5 says, "This is the Exec, I have uploaded the nav data into your computers. Proceed to Nav 1 where you will meet up with the TCS Roger Young. SHe is under attack by Kilrathi fighters and has lost her escorts. She is also carrying the Majestic's new commanding officer, Commodore Clayborne."
At the instructions from CIC, Koenig pushes the throttle forward on his Broadsword and shoots off the deck and out into space. He waits for the rest of the flight to take off and says into his intercom,

Xiang has arrived.

Loflynn grunts as she slams into the back of the seat when the Broadsowrd launches from the ship. "Fuck Koenig I had forgotten how tight I need to make sure I am strapped in before a ship launches. Damned near knocked the wind from me back here."

«Scimitar 6473 cleared to launch on my mark…» 'Shooter' calls, turns and salutes the pilot as Paz jams the throttles to the stops. «Three…two…one…Mark!» With that, Paz's ship blazes down the launch tube and into space. «Lead, Paz, good launch. All systems are nominal, point me in a direction. I'm ready for anything.» she calls.

"Shit, we're going to rescue high brass? They're supposed to eat Krants in their breakfast cereal." Alex's Stiletto joins the others out the launch tubes, engines blazing to life once clear of the Majestic's precious paint job. "Torch, clear of tubes. Joining formation."

"Hammer copies, Majestic. I have the lead." Korsakov's voice emanates from his still-damaged black Stiletto as it blasts free of Majestic's launch tubes. The Confed fighters settle into formation, Max's fighter at the lead. "All ships, Hammer. Full burn to the rendezvous."
Taking off a few moments after a few of the others, Foster looks around for a few seconds as he rolls a bit to the side, then moves into position with the others. Getting onto the radio. "Gambit out of the tubes. Full burn it is, Hammer."

Xiang gets her Stiletto loaded in up in the launch tubes along with the other pilots. She refrains from any snappy commentary for the moment, though. Her engines flare as she shoots out into space, angling over to form up with the other fighters. "Lead, Verdict. Formed up. All systems green and ready."

Having to sign over his left arm before the greasemonkeys allowed Kell to step into another Stiletto, the young rookie pilot goes through the usual checklists for his light fighter. Once all signals are green, he flies out of the launch tube and forms up with the others. "Razor here, all systems green, good to go." While he waits for the others to check in, Kell starts checking the Nav data over to see where they will be going.

The scene opens up with a Terran confederation transport limping along just out side the castor system she's been heavily damaged by the looks of her. Smoke and space debris float around the ship, the debris more then likely the remains of their escort. Only one lone fighter remains, guarding the transport with her life. A pair of Grikath home on it on, ready to take the kill, just as the fighter wings from the TSC Majestic arrives. About time you boys showed up we thought we were goners. The Commodore respectfully asks that you please get rid of the pair of Grikath currently homing on our position. The comms report ,crackling to life as soon as their in range.

Aboard the TCS Roger Young, Commodore Claybourne sits on the bridge, watching things unfold from the viewscreen while his bridge crew scramble about. The man is wearing a brown cowboy hat and has narrowed his gaze almost down to pinpricks. "Screw all that! You bank to starboard and give it half power! We got one asset left and before she punches out, she's givin' them every last drop of juice she's got! Draw power from underside shields if you have to." "Sir, that puts us on a direct collision course for." "I know what it does. I'm pissed, not stupid! Open up on her!" The Venture class ship turns starboard, changing course to buffer the lone remaining fighter and turning itself directly towards one of the Grikath bombers.

<TC1> Hammer says, "Majestic, Hammer. We are approaching the Roger Young. She is damaged but operational, though only one of the escort fighters survived. We are engaging the enemy."

<TC1> Majestic 5 says, "Well.. Lets smell some burnt fur hammer!"

Korsakov gets off the horn with the Majestic just in time to see most of the attacking Kilrathi fighters break off in search of healthier prey. "All ships, break by pairs and attack. Razor, you're with me. Whatever you do, keep those kittens off the Roger Young; Swords, keep that Ralari from getting too close. Go, go, go!"

"Hammer, Pip. Systems are green. Tizona and I will watch over our Pig-Sword friend. " The older Lieutenant's Scimitar has received a new-paint job…the entire vessel is painting in a Scarlet high-gloss, with White piping on all of the edges, and bordering the cockpit. The old coot has turned his ship into a flying British Redcoat. He has gone mad. Throttling the old fighter to max military power, the Scimitar's experienced pilot carefully leading a Dralthi that slips into his path, and squeezing off an unguided Dumbfire. "Weapons hot, Fox One". Its Pip, so you -know- this is a kill-shot.
<TC1> Majestic 6 says, "Lone pilot, this is the Joger Young. We are not going out without a very big goodbye and a fuck you to boot. I hope they got dogs in hell. Majestic 5, this is the Joger Young. We have eleven assets on scan. Nice of you boys to join us. I reckon there's about fourteen reasons for us to be glad to see you, and thirteen of them have tails and fur."

"Hammer, Torch. Copy that." Alex glances out his viewport side, then back at the bombers headed for their new CO's ship. "Verdict, care to tango? Let's bag us a bomber before they really crawl up our asses, eh?"

Paz lays on a bit more power and banks her ship to starboard with a firm kiss on the thruster pedal and finds herself with a peach of a shot at one of the Grikaths. Far too good to pass up, even at this range. Slowly, the young reservist lines her quarry up in the reticle and squeezes off her shot.

"Roger that. And don't call me a pig-sword again Limey." Koenig says into his comms. He steadies his ship, and slowly accelerates towards the Ralari, switching his weapons to torpedoes, and his comm to the ship's intercoms, "Just keep those cats busy and I'll do the rest."

"Torch, Verdict. Don't mind if I do. I think I know the steps." Xiang's Stiletto angles over to take Aquilina's wing. "Missiles warmed."

" S.. Sure thing there, Koening. " Gunner Bob says, praying for a moment.

<TC1> Majestic 5 says, "This is Maggy 5, Roger 6. CVS-25 is now at flank speed parallel to the engagement, staying out of enemy sensor range. Ship is at battlestations and ship's cannons are manned, armed, and ready to spread Kilrathi guts all over the sky."

The lone, tiny, old Scimitar next to the Majestic is looking scarred and beaten already. The pilot, poor young Bianca, is doing her best to remain on course in the hard to manuever, old craft, but she's the only one left and she sure as hell isn't going to die to day, so she's doing her best to throw what she can at their attackers. "You fuckers better be on your wait…" She mutters, mostly to herself, but her comm is probably on loud enough that the muttering is picked up.

Loflynn grumbles and hitches the harness tighter about her as she brings the neutron guns up and her display flashes to life. "Roger that." she retorts over the din of the targeting sirens as they draw closer to the Kilrathi fighters.

Foster frowns as he looks up there, looking around to see who to pair up with. Turning his ship slightly in the direction of the enemies, he makes sure to stay near the rest for now.

As the squadron proceeds to the Nav point, Kell steels himself for this upcoming mission, the last couple of nasty ones still fresh in his mind. However, those thoughts are quickly pushed to the back of the mind as his sensors begin to light up like a Christmas Tree as they enter the combat zone, red blips all over along with an orange blip.Once clear orders are given, Kell sends his acknowledgement to the XO, "This is Razor, copy that Hammer, on your wing." With that, he flicks a switch over to his Heat Seeker missile as the battle is joined, the darkness of space lighting up.As he continues to follow the XO, a Kilrathi Hhriss drops onto their six and with the Rookie being the trailer of the pair, he is targetted. "Hammer, heads up, we have a Hhriss on our six, drawing his fire, you're clear." Kicking his fighter into evasive maneuvers, Kell tries to dance around the incoming while unleashing a round of Mass Driver Cannons at the Krant that his wingman is locking onto.

The scene out in space can only be described as a brutal and deadly fire fight, Missal and laser fire seems to every where as the emery is engaged by our bank of hero's. The first few moments see two critical hits to Bianca and Aquilina's fighters, the rest taking some damage. An enemy Dralthi is knock out taking the enemy down by one rather quickly.

"Splash one." A wince, as Pip checks his scopes, and spots both bombers still intact. "Nice shooting, Flight." Sarcasm drips through the comm system, as the Englishman's Scimitar shudders under a grazing impact from one of the heavy Kilrathi fighters in the furball. "Targeting Grikath-a. Looks like we've got the Hhriss moving in to intercept." A pause, and the Lieutenant speaks calmly over the comm, before sending a dumbfire streaking off the Kilrathi bomber…"Hammer, Pip. May I suggest you speed-freaks keep those lighter fighters occupied?" He is very polite for a man fighting for his and other's lives…shit hasn't gone wrong, yet.

"Right," snaps Korsakov succinctly at Pip's request. "Hold him off, Razor. I'm getting that posholniy Krant." Korsakov's fighter continues to pursue the Krant that had just done its level best to blast the last escort Scim out of the stars. "Illuminati, Hammer. Make yourselves a nuisance." Both his and Kell's attacks tear into the Kilrathi fighter, but the thing's still flying. Its Confed target is only crippled, though, not destroyed, and the valiant but battered fighter continues to maneuver as the Krant breaks away, angling for another target - Verdict, this time. Korsakov's Stil is hot on its trail, and he quickly achieves lock and fires his another. "Hammer. Fox Two."

Boom, headshot. Again with the bridge getting hit by torpedoes fired by Koenig. He grins just a little as his missile strikes the Ralari, but that half moment of satisfaction is shattered by chunks of his wing flying off at the peppering he gets from the Jalthi. "Goddamnit escorts, you want to actually do something?" Koenig asks the thin air of the cockpit, before he turns on comms and tries the more diplomatic approach, "Taking hits, need a little help here before your only bomber eats it." And then he switches to intercom as he pulls the Sword around for another pass, this time aiming at the engines, "Keep on the Jalthi, they've got killer guns," he instructs the Major riding with him.

Aquilina has just got his finger to the missile deploy trigger when BOOM, the Sartha's missile scores a hit. The slam and sound of metal crunching is deafening, his own first shot spiraling uselessly out into space as the Stiletto shudders from the impact. "Fucking hell. Copy that, Hammer. Verdict, let's get our hands on that Dralthi after our fearless Captain."

"Dammit!" Paz growls as she sees her dumbfire slip just behind Grikath-b as she fantically keys the FLARE button three times to spoof the incoming missile her threat warning is screaming at her about. "All right, let's try plan B" she muses, flipping a toggle over to uncage the IR seeker head on her starboard heat seeker and bringing her ship to full power as she leaves the Grikath to the bombers and goes after the nearest Hhriss…«Here, kitty, kitty, kitty»..she taunts over the open channel.

"Not this time…" mutters Valentine within the cockpit of his third vessel in two days. Luck had certainly not been with the Wing Commander in this stretch of flying, but Valentine would be damned if he wasn't gonna be out there when his people were putting their lives on the line. Some might argue that his third strike is to come, and he'll be out for good if that were to happen. Yet, the man had boarded his Scimitar, visage grim and determined, and launched anyway.And now he sat within the cockpit of the Scimitar, and his quandry was there before him. Battle is joined, and the chaos ensues as starfighters from both sides collide. Some go up in flames; others break apart. Still others lose pieces of their armor or recieve dents and holes due to enemy fire. Yet through it all, the Terran forces stand strong.The Scimitar containing the Wing Commander flies fast, and some may describe it as reckless. There were two Grikath vessels within the writhing throng, and Valentine meant to ensure that those craft did not put too big a dent on the TCS Joger Young, and as such the man veers directly for the Grikath-a, flipping the switch to arm his heat seeking missiles, and once the crosshairs align, a lock is established, and the missile is sent screaming in at the cockpit of the Kilrathi vessel.

A growl answers Koeing's comchat and she tracks the blasters after the Jalthi she had been tracking from the get go. "Fuck!" she mutters as the bomber shutters from all the heavy fire it takes.

Bianca is flung around like a rag doll in her little, old ship, the craft already suffering and now she can feel the thing in it's death throws around her. "Fuck it…. live fast… die hard." Bianca's scotch and cigarettes voice growls out across her comm link and, suddenly, she's speeding ahead. Straight into combat. She's got a dumbfire loaded up, probably just enough fuel to die in a blaze of glory, and an attitude against the whole damned world. "Lock and load." She snaps louder over the comm, throwing her dying ship straight back into the fight.

Xiang's missile sails on by the Grikath ship. But that is not her immediate concern as some of the haze from the volley clears. "Torch!" There's a note of urgency in her clipped tone as it crackles over the comm. But, he's swearing over the intercom, which is a sign he isn't dead. "Hammer, Verdict. Copy. Coming about. Trying to shake these cats off my tail. Still with you, Torch." She goes into a standard evasive maneuver pattern. Pure textbook Confed training, for better or worse, but cleanly done.

The jinking and juking by Kell seems to do it's job as he isn't blown out of the sky, however the hail of cannon fire from the Hhriss manages to ding up his fighter a little bit. He pulls up on his fighter, going into a High Yoyo maneuver, to buy time and reassess the furball. When he banks back down to cover his wingman's six, he is surprised to see three different Kilrathi fighters diving in on his XO. "Hammer, go evasive, you've got three on your tail, trying to get them off!"Selecting the closest one that is trying to attack, Kell breaks towards the Sartha that is looking to turn his wingman into chow as he switches to the Heat Seeker missile. Once he achieves a solid tone lock, he depresses the trigger, sending one screaming at the Kilrathi Light Fighter.

The bridge of the Roger Young banks sharply, the raw inerta at work causing every hand to grip onto something. Alarms go off in the bridge. A string of sounds like sonar pings, echoy and chalky, scream off. Red lights bask the bridge. And Dante? He lights a cigar. If he's going to die, he's going to die in style. "Sir, hull breach on aft section." "We're losing power to life support!" Dante reconsiders, putting the freshly lit cigar out. "Can you hold it?" "We'll try to-" "Just hold the fucking thing. Take us bearing four six two, pitch eight one degrees. If they want a piece of us, then they can take it up the ass. Lock onto whatever that bird is locked on to." "Yes sir."

Loflynn tracks a hail of fire through space at the Hhriss and lets the bolts fly. Whether because of the bomber's flight path or the lack of time manning the controls in a while one could hardly say. Yet the marine CO intends on help out this day, even if it is to simply fill the void of space with a myriad of temporary stars.

Aquilina swerves just in time, taunting an EPIC MISS from both his trailing kitties. Which also means his next shot also kisses space instead of a target, and he makes an annoyed grunt into the mic. "Clingy little bastards. Verdict, Torch. Turning on that Jalthi on your tail."

Paz grins as her heat seeker plows into one the Hhriss' weapons with a satisfying fireball. "Okay..so far so good." she comments as she uncages the other IR seeker on her remaining missile and starts lining up to try and bring this little dance to a close. "Nice engines, you got there, furball…let's see if they like this…" she smiles as her missile begins to growl out its readiness in her 'phones.

Bianca swears again, rather cursing like a sailor and all over the comms, but at least she doesn't end up going up in a fiery blaze for that pass of attacks. She manages to sail under anything actually coming in her direction, doing a sloppy little turn in her unwieldy old craft, and she opens fire again on one of the other, this time smaller, ships. She's learning from her mistakes!

Foster frowns as his fire just hits the armor of the Krant. Letting out a few angry words, he starts flying in a more erratic path, still trying to keep the Krant in his target. "Flyg bort, kattjavlar…" That momentary switch to Swedish that tends to happen once in a while.

Kell's warning comes just in time, as Korsakov's instinctive evasive manuever twists him out of the way just as a trio of Kilrathi fighters send a torrent of weapons fire at his abused Stiletto. As virtuoso as the Captain's maneuver might have been, though, it isn't quite enough; Kilrathi laser fire clips one of his mass drivers. It could have been worse, though; other than the one wound, his fighter comes through the barrage no worse for the wear, and the three Kilrathi are no longer in position to make another coordinated attack. "Thanks, Razor." With that, Max is back on the offensive, his fighter whirling pell-mell through space as he moves to reacquire a target. "Verdict, Hammer. Pair of kittens on your six… I'm on it." With that, he sends a missle screaming towards the Jalthi attacking Xiang."

Xiang fires off a burst of her guns, but is more focused on weaving to shake off her pursuing Kilrathi ships than on doing them proper violence. She arcs up and around sharp, but she still can't get them off her tail. "Torch, Verdict. I would rather like to get rid of him." She turns ever-so-slightly, to attempt to get a decent firing arc. While weaving. Which muck with one's aim awfully.

"Keep it up." Koenig tells his gunner as no shots perforate his ship this time. He sighs a little at the general ineffectiveness of his torpedo, and slams the burner to full for a few moments before looping around to start his third attack run on the Ralari.
His heat seeker struck the Grikath, but it only hit the nose, exploding mostly harmlessly over the front of the craft. Growling, Valentine had little time to witness this as he's juking and snap-rolling to avoid the fire of two Hhriss craft. Letting out a breath as he evades the gunfire, the Wing Commander presses down on the rudder pedal, swinging his after end about and coming around for another pass.

"I'm trying to make sure these Grikath don't dish out too much damage." he calls. Once again, he's aiming towards Grikath-a, and his targetting sensor is set up as he gets a lock on the enemy craft. And then his thumb's pressing down again, and he's calling out, "Grim. Fox Two." as he watches the missile streak inwards.

Shots impact on the Roger Young's hull, bracing off of armor and shields. The bridge rumbles with the sounds of combat and the Commodore smiles bitterly as the massive craft's bridge is immolated in a fireball. Dante smiles, "How's life support?" "Damage control is…" "LIFE SUPPORT." "Holding at 47 percent, sir." Dante reaches for the comm and broadcasts to the ship, "This is your captain speaking. We are at minimal life support. Don't breathe. Out." As if anybody WAS breathing, right? "Now I said UP their ass, not around it. It's hurting. Press the attack. We have reinforcements."

As his dumbfire streaks right past the Grikath that he'd had in his sights, there is a series of curses from within Pip's cockpit, and the Englishman's Scimitar twists into a tight banking manuever, intended to put him in position to put a missile into Grikath-B's cockpit at extreme close-range. It is a risky attack, but it is atleast, hopefully more accurate than his last. "Is that what you're doing, Grim? I thought you were tickling the wankers…I'm glad you clarified." And with a stroke of his firing stud, the dumbfire streaks in for the hopeful kill.

<TC1> Majestic 6 says, "Confed strike craft, this is the TCN Roger Young. We have sustained moderate damage to life support. Shields are holding. Request additional support near starboard flank, as starboard emitters are down."

<TC1> Hammer says, "Roger Young, Hammer copies."

When the Sartha makes a last second twitch that causes his Heat Seeker Missile to just slip past, Kell growls out a curse but instead of chasing after the Kilrathi in wild abandon, the rookie breaks off. Instead, he forms up on Hammer's wing again just as one of the Sartha's dive in on the pair's six. "Got another bogey on our six, got you covered, Hammer." Slipping his Stiletto in between himself and the Sartha, Kell fires off a burst of Mass Driver Cannon at the same target that Korsakov is firing at. He then begins to break his fighter left and right to try to make himself as hard to hit as possible.

As the battle rages on our merry band begin to even the score a little, two more of the enemy fighters are quickly taken care of with well places shots from the two Confed pilots. Two of the Sartha brake off from the bombers to go aid their conrads battling the Confeds finest. Meanwhile the Rojer Young is getting pelted the enemy determined that the Commodore doesn't get to his destination.

Bianca finally gets her targetting right, doing a damned nice sweep right past one of the Grikath… and curse it, if she's not out of missles, "DAMMIT all to HELL!" She yells across the comm, her over zealous fist smashing into her computer's controls for a moment, making her small craft shudder mid air rather unnecessary. "Shite." She murmurs quieter, pulling herself back on course as she does a quick weapons switch, trying to pull her craft's large ass around for another pass with head seeking weapons…

"Pip, Hammer. Roger Young is taking heavy fire on her starboard flank. Move to support." Korsakov's voice is cool and collected, but he sneers wordlessly as another shot goes wide. "How is it back there, Razor?" Even as he's checking on his damaged wingman, he's going for another missle lock on the Kilrathi in front of him.

Aquilina gets the best shot off that he possibly can, which does absolutely nothing. While the two on his tail do absolutely nothing for him. "This is officially ridiculous," he comments, mildly. "Foster, how are you doing over there?"

«Lead, Tizona, Splash one, repeat, splash one.» Paz grins as her missile streaks into the back of the first Hhriss and blasts its engines to vapor and white hot flecks of shredded metal. "And now, let's try…." she says to herself, yo-yo-ing past one Grikath to fall in on the other Hhriss' tail as she switches to guns,

Xiang keeps up her game of tag with the Jalthi. She's outrun them so far, though she doesn't tap them, either. "Beats being a Kilrathi dart-board, Torch.

The Roger Young continues on its course, shields flickering on and off as the reactors struggle to keep her functional. Chunks of armor or torn loose as that weak starboard emitter fails again. As before, the bridge continues to shake and tremble. Dante stays in his chair, wearing his cowboy hat and holding onto a cigar he's already put out. "Starboard emitters failing again." "You keep losing control of it. Just turn the fucking thing off. Put that energy into the reactors. Keep them -off- of our bald spot." "Yes, sir."

Koenig slams his fist against the side of his cockpit as his missile gets deflected off the armor of the capship he was firing at and explodes harmlessly, "Schisse!" he yells, before rolling over and under the Ralari. He burns quickly out of range of the ackack, and then turns back for what might be his last run at the ship, "Please be advised, I'm down to my last torpedo here."

Foster fires off a shot at his target. Frowning as it misses, the frown is accompanied by some rather irritated grumbling as his ship shakes from incoming enemy fire. "Still alive," comes the reply as he hears Aquilina's words. Growling a bit to himself, he looks for the enemies once more. Heading in the general direction of Jalthi-2 now. 'Die, little kitten…' he mutters under his breath.

"Splash Two." Jenthson's voice comes across the comm cool and collected, sounding as if he is quite enjoying himself, though a further message is relayed…"Pip, Hammer. Stuff it. One is down, Grim seems to be having trouble with his." He is a touchy old man, and doesn't like to be told how to do his job, when he is already doing it." Kicking his Scimitar into a tight(relatively) turn, afterburners are punched as he waits for his Heat Seeker's warbling to turn into a long growl, indicating a lock. "Fox Three." The warhead is away, streaking in for Grikath-a. "Nice shooting, Tizona, let's show these regulars how the part-timers kill." A call of encouragment as her Hhriss evaporates.

That's two heat seekers exploding off a Grikath hull, and Valentine just shakes his head. "Switching to dumbfire." he growls over the comm system. "These bastards are tough…." A spray of gunfire crawls over his Scimitar's body, but the armor absorbs most of that. The Wing Commander is on a mission, however, and as he circles about for what he hopes to be the final time, he comes in a wider arc to bring him inwards at the vessel's front and above this time.

"Seems you're right, Jenthson. All I've been doing so far is tickling them. Fixing that now, though." he informs him as his fighter streaks recklessly towards the bomber. "Grim. Dumbfire away." With that said, his thumb descends on the trigger, and the warhead goes hurtling in.

The stacatto firing of the neutron blasters rattle, continuing to light the way to the surviving Hhriss fighter as it were once Paz tags out the one Hhriss and makes to go after the second. She tries her best to make her targets stick although that is highly unlikely given her unfamiliarity of the combat medium. Koenig. We got a lock on by one of those Jalthi's again. Better shake this bitch's ass!

The evasive maneuvers is effect to a point as the Heat Seeker Missile that screams towards his tail doesn't impact him fully, instead exploding just off of to the side of Kell's Stiletto. The explosion tears up some of the side armor and leaves a very nasty scoch mark on his fighter but he is still flying. "Not bad Hammer, that was only a glancing blow, didn't catch off of the explosion. Looks like the cats are off our tails for the moment, going after the one that is on Torch's six." Kicking his engines to full power, he angles his fighter towards the Dralthi and unleashes another missile.

Getting on to the other Hhriss' tail was relatively easy, but as Paz is starting to learn, staying there's a bit different. Still, her first burst lit up the Hhriss's engines pleasingly, so she slows down just a hair and lines up for a second burst. «Okay, kitty, just hold still for a few seconds, the vet's here…and Dr. Tizona's gonna make it all better..» she grins maliciously.

The small confed capital ship is rocked as a torpedo streaks directly into the starboard side, tearing through battered armor. On board, chaos ensues. "Hull breach! Hull breach!" Dante stands and scowls. "Take us directly THROUGH the bomber that did that. Full power to frontal shields. I want to see their faces all over the viewscreen!" People blink. "Give me the comm."

<TC1> Majestic 6's voice is… bitter. The man has an obviously southern twang, with a higher pitched tone than one would expect. It makes him sound more than a little surly when he gets angry, speaking in a seemingly calm tone that obviously seeths underneath. "Confed strike craft, this is Commodore Claybourne of the TSC Roger Young. Who is the ranking flight officer here? Speak up."

"Dralthi is now drifting towards your six, Hammer, I'm sticking with him and he should be clear of your rear sensors in a moment." Kell says as he sticks to the smoking Dralthi, the cockpit looking like it is pretty heavily damaged. Not giving the Kilrathi any breathing room, the rookie pilot waits for yet another solid lock tone and depresses the trigger stub, sending another Heat Seeker Missile roaring at the Dralthi.

Her fire peppers the tail of the Hhriss and Loflynn grins at that, even if the fighter's armor did absorb a good deal of it. The secondary display showing the capital detonating in a firey blossom gives her and even greater elation and she turns to give a thumbs up to Koeing when she sees the heavy missle filling the viewport before the pilot and she swears.

Off goes another missile, coming in at a cross-trajectory to Korsakov's heat seeker and tearing a vicious hole straight through the Jalthi's controls. "About goddamned time," he says mildly. Both Krants have circled and come back to haunt him, and he mutters under his breath. "Ta for the assistance, Razor. Verdict, help me out with these Krant bastards, would you? I hate these slippery things."

Knifing through the explosion where Grikath-a used to be, Pip hits his comm…"There you go, Grim. You can watch my flight record footage, if you want some pointers." The Englishman is -really- in a good mood, this fight. "Splash Three. I've got Sartha-2." His last heat seeker begins to search for a lock, and once that "FUCK THE KILRATHI" growl begins to fill the Jenthson's cockpit, he releases his last missile with a little prayer to the gods of victory.

Foster keeps on aiming at the very same Jalthi as he's been fighting out there, since both of them misses this time. Going for the engine of the enemy ship at the moment. Staying quiet for now as he listens to what's being said for now.

Xiang's Stiletto does a sharp vertical angle down, ducking under the enemy fire peppering toward her ship. Her guns take a passing glance at the Jalthi's controls while she's at it, but don't make any dents. Aquilina takes care of the denting himself, however. "Torch, Verdict. Nicely done. He was getting rather tiresome. Watch yourself. You've got a couple coming up on you. I see them." Now that one of her suitors has been blown up real good she turns and takes a more offensive posture on Aquilina's pursuers.

<TC1> Hammer says, "Roger Young, this is Captain Maxim Korsakov, off the Majestic. Make it quick, we are a little occupied, if you hadn't noticed…"

After a few more minutes the Ralari taken out in a blast of smoke but not before it gets off one more shot slamming into the side of the Roger Young. The brave pair whom took it out soon mind themselves the target of a missile and are forced to eject into space. Meanwhile the last of the Grikaths are taken down by the effects of the minutemen. Only the two Sartha remain and one lone Hhriss are left in the fight now.

<TC1> Pip says, "Lieutenant Jenthson, here. You must have missed it, Hammer…our illustious leader arrived to assist. This isn't your clusterfuck, anylonger."

<TC1> Guy says, "…Is it…fucking over? what the fuck…they're all dead…. Fuck… we have to go back…They can't all be dead, we fucking left them back there! …Is it fucking over? We have to go back!"

Her fire peppers the tail of the Hhriss and Loflynn grins at that, even if the fighter's armor did absorb a good deal of it. The secondary display showing the capital detonating in a firey blossom gives her and even greater elation and she turns to give a thumbs up to Koeing when she sees the heavy missle filling the viewport before the pilot and she swears. "Oh shi-!" is all she manages to get out before the missle impacts on the ship's nose and the Broadsword simply folds about the missle like a sheet of tissue paper before the missle detonates.

Systems blow. Showers of sparks rain down on them. Their ejection seats jettison yet their transition from the corona of fire is hardly clean and Loflynn finds her left arm being slammed into a portion of the ship's hull and the edge of the chair also catches a jagged protuberance that caused her escape velocity to now bleed into a pinwheel that accelerates her through space in ever increasing G-forces that threaten to blacken her out.

Bianca, aka 'Guy', is finally losing her shit…just a little bit. Her voice is more than a little panicked and terrifed over the comm unit as she falls into place next to the Roger young again, waiting for further orders, or permission to run, or to kill the last few morsels out there that she'd so as well let someone else handle. She keeps close to the large ship she was escorting…the last, lone Scimitar on the team, and looking heavily damaged herself.
"Bout DAMN time." Koenig says into the intercom as his torpedo slams into the hull of the Ralari and sets off a wave of secondary explosions that eventually tear the Kilrathi ship apart. As he's pulling up from the explosion though, the waling klaxon warning him of an incoming missile catches his attention, and, before he is able to pull off any sort of evasive maneuver, his ship is hit just infront. The pilot is slammed forward against his control panel, and, despite bleeding profusely from multiple cuts, he is able to reach down and slap the eject button before his Broadsword is completely destroyed. He winces in pain, and then spins out of control as the blastwave from his ship knocks his thrust off kilter. The man spins out through space silently.

<TC1> Majestic 6 says, "Why -yes-, Captain. I did notice that. Whatever you're doing, it isn't working. If I go down with this ship, so help me I swear on the Earth itself I will haunt you until you Section 8. Our starboard emitters are down. We've turned them off due to damage. I need that side covered as tightly as possible."

<TC1> Hammer says, "You're observant, then. Good to see in a CO. If you go down with that ship, take it up with Colonel Valentine. In the meantime, I've got kotyonoki to kill."

<TC1> Pip says, "Majestic 6. Check scanners. Your ass was saved courtesy of the Minutemen, and the 13th. You're welcome."

<TC1> Tizona says, "Guy, Tizona, settle down, okay? Stick close to the Young and try not to get blown up."

<TC1> Guy says, "I'm… tryin'. Fuck… fuck me… we were all trying… they're all fucking… Dead…"

<TC1> Hammer says, "Stow it, pilot. They are dead. You are not. You still have a job to do. Do it. Mourn later."

Again Valentine strikes true, and again the Grikath just shrugs off the blow. A growl bubbles up in Grim's throat, frustration boiling as the missiles prove useless. Then, the unthinkable happens. As the Broadsword carrying Loflynn engages, it is hit, turning it into a fireball in the void of space. Crying out in alarm, Valentine watches as two blips on the radar go hurtling away from the debris, causing the Wing Commander's heart to skip a beat."Frejdot! Do you read me!?" he calls, listening to the comm chatter on the taccom. Then his gaze is growing narrow, eyes stormy, and Valentine is streaking straight in towards the Sartha targetting the pilot who is in the middle of a freak out.

<TC1> Grim says, "Damnit, Guy! Get a hold on it! You've got inbound; shut your yap, and start flying!"

Despite panic, or maybe because of it, Bianca's bird suddenly ducks lower, pulling herself just out of range of the volley that's come in her direction. She actually dodged it! Even with smoke trialing out her buttocks and damage to her wings, she got past the thing and she manages to open fire with her heat seeker, scathing the boy of the Hhriss that's been coming at her. It's a nice, nice of flying from the panicking nugget, probably fueled by adrenaline and some training that's actually taken affect — much like the mother who can lift a car off her child despite strength not truly being there. Bianca pulls her ass out of the fire when it matters..

<TC1> Guy says, "Fuuuuck me…."

As Kell's second Heat Seeker impales into the Dralthi's cockpit and explodes, the rookie pilot's dry spell is finally over as he gets a kill once again. "Scratch one Furball! Your six is clear, Hammer." Now, the Rookie certainly sounds upbeat as the turn of events shifting heavily in the Confed Force's favor as there are multple explosions around, multiple Kitties blowing up. With one Krant left in the near vacinity, Kell banks his Stiletto towards the Kilrathi, watching as the others in his squadron converges as well.

"/That's/ the ticket," Alex's voice sounds /much/ happier after that last go of guns and missiles blaring. Both Krants miss their shots on him, one pounded by his missile and then exploded to utter bits by Xiang's. "Just took a bit to get warmed up, eh?" His guns turn on the last remaining enemy ship, and he pushes the throttle up to gain some speed.

The battle rages on, what is minutes seems hours as the two side slug it out, the Kilrathi seems to have the upper hand for a minute their three spacecraft taking few hits. One more of the Confed's fighters are critically hit, though they seem to stay in the fight despite all odds.

]Finally the Stilettos strike a decisive blow, as three of the Kilrathi fighters are almost simultaneously hacked out of the sky, Korsakov's Jalthi taking a missle up the engine and exploding brightly. "Ochen khorosho, Razor." Then, directed towards the rest of the squadron: "Let's skrag this fucking kitten and get back to Roger Young." Korsakov's ship banks a moment after Kell's as the Illuminati converge on their final obstacle.

"I aim *slightly* better when I'm not flying in circles, Torch," Xiang's voice says with a prim sort of dry humor, a note of satisfaction ringing in it as she watches the enemy ship go BOOM. "Thanks for the assist on that one. Let's finish this dance." She spins about sharp, missile locking on that lonely, lonely Kilrathi vessel the fighters are facing.

Come on, come on' Foster mutters under his breath as he fires off and misses the enemy. Grimacing a bit as he tries making himself a harder target to hit, then sees the enemy turn into a pretty fireball, and looks around for a few moments, before heading for that last enemy he can see.

<TC1> Gambit says, "Thanks, Hammer. And Guy, not without a proper dinner and a few pints."

As dumbfire's click out, Valentine switches back to heat seekers once more. Eyes narrow, and he peels off from the Hhriss, and heads straight at Sartha-2. "Does anyone have read on Frejdot's pod? Anyone know her status!?" His words are loud, emotion bubbling beneath the surface as he aims for the Kilrathi before him - straight for it. "Come on, you fucking pussy… Time to shove my missile right up your ass." And then, Valentine's final heat seeker is released.

Paz barely has time to squeeze the trigger before her threat alarm begins screaming at her. Too late, she spots the incoming missile and frantically stomps on the thruster pedal to pinwheel out of the way. Then there's a deafening roar and a teeth-rattling crash as the dumbfire explodes a few meters away from her cockpit, sending her craft spiraling out of control as the thrusters fire randomly, for Tizona, everything goes black…

When she comes to, she's greeted by the cheerful sight of every master alarm on her panel going crazy and the fact that she's covered in shatered plexiglass. «Ch…..L-e-d…T…zn….Mayd…ayd….ayda……» she calls over the overpowering squelch in her comm line. "Oh, goddamn it…no…no…no not now.." she says and starts to fight her craft to regain some semblance of control.

Dante turns to look from one panel on the bridge, to the other, "Status report. They've stopped firing." "Sir, they've turned to face the strike team." "Press the attack. Half power to shields. Find your favorite tabby and blast the shit out of it." "We're getting distress signals." "Downed spacers." "Dang it. Get them in here." The Roger Young changes course, heading towards Loflynn and Koenig, pieces of the battered hull flaking off of the craft as it goes. "We have life support systems online again. Rerouted power conduits from the starboard emitters, "Good. Might should hurry this the fuck up before the tabbys realize we're sitting still." The ship comes to rest in space near Loflynn and Koenig, on starboard side, of course.

<TC1> Hammer says, "Copy that, Gambit. Any time. Just keep that bucket together a little longer, da?"

Peeling hard to starboard, avoiding a collision with the Sartha that he'd been targeting, Pip curses into his commlink…"Fuck. Tizona. I'm coming in, I'll keep your six, clean." Punching his starfighter into a head-on intercept course with the Hhriss that is diving to strike his wingman, Jenthson launches his last heat seeker in an attempt to destroy the heavy starfighter, once and for all. "If you go EVA, you're on KP for a week, Paz."

<TC1> Tizona says, "Le-d, Tiza…ch-ck chk, soun-chk….-r- —u rec-ng? B-d sha— —re…"

<TC1> Pip says, "You're breaking up. But we read."

Koenig is pulled aboard the Roger Young in a rather perilous state. He's taken more than just a beating from his ejection: burns have melted his flightsuit to his legs, along with multiple lacerations and other injuries. The pilot is rushed off to the medical bay of the ship.

<TC1> Gambit says, "Will do, Hammer. Even if I have to run around it with my roll of gaffer tape."

<TC1> Tizona says, "-ut-ing v-ic- will tr-nsmi- vi- cl-ck-…co-y?"

Loflynn's velocity long bled off and the added gravity well created by the vulture slows it even more. Luckily she is not in as bad condition as Koenig but she has definatly blacked out from the terrible spinning and her breathing comes on laborously. As she is brought onboard the Roger Young she too is rushed off to medical.

<TC1> Guy says, "Come on, take that, bitc- *Loud rush… static, static…*"

Even with every square milimeter of it's canopy's plexi blasted out, a dent in the cockpit that's almost certainly broken her leg and making it impossible for to eject if she wanted to, and half the systems fried, the old Scimitar just keeps trucking. Good thing to, because the second Paz realizes how much hurt's coming her way she throws the book out of the now nonexistent window and starts doing every cussed thing she can do to shake her attackers. She shoots, but only in the hopes it might distract the kittens long enough to let her live. The sign of Guy's ship getting tangoed is more than enough motivation.

Aquilina misses his shot, but that's hardly surprising. With half the wing on the thing's tail, his mind is on keeping it after him and avoiding its own blast, which he does quite deftly. "Lovely work. Splat, if I ever saw one. Hammer, Torch. How are the others doing, do we need to scramble back?"

"Grim, Pip. I'm dry on missiles. This Hhriss is on its last legs, but that Sartha just fragged the newbie. Kill it, please." The request is polite enough, and the as-of-yet undamaged Scimitar cuts speed, so it can stay behind the heavy Kilrathi starfighter, and he pumps a long barrage of mass-driver fire into it, aiming for the bubble of its cockpit. "Wanker, killing kids." Not that he has any idea if she was able to go EVA, or not.

While the little Scimitar that could survived for nearly the whole combat, the final pass of that damned Sartha is enough to put her on her back. The clunky Scimitar actually ends up rolling, showing her belly, dying fires exploding into the blackness of space as the vehicle goes through her death throes. A limp, ragged looking white doll of a body ejects a moment before the final explosion…

"They're aboard, sir." "Good. How's medical?" asks Dante, narrowing his eyes again, "Cramped." "About to get more cramped. The last bird just bit it." "Commodore, we're still clear on signatures. No locks." "Take us in towards that pilot. I'm not losing anyone I don't have to before I get to the fucking ship. Life support still holding?" "Steady, sir." The ship banks, then dives, heading towards the ejected pilot. "Take him in." Him, her, whatever. The ship approaches Bianca and they open the doors one more time. Mutters Dante to himself, "It's like a fucking clown car in here."

<TC1> Majestic 6 says, "Roger Young to Strike Wing. Better. We're satisfied."

The multiple missiles converge on the Krant who is surrounded by a pack of sharks that come in the form of Stilettos. Kell's Heat Seeker flies true as it finds the larges heat source which is the Krant's and screams towards the Kilrathi. A small adjustment near the end of it's flight sends it right up the pipe of the Krant, while the other missiles converge as well, blowing the last Cat that the 221st were engaging to pieces. "Now that is what we call team work, good shit!"
Bianca pages: that's kinda cool of you guys though. I'll consider it… depends what I'm thinking on for this char.

"Nicely done, gentlemen," Xiang says, no small touch of admiration in her voice at the punishing hits the last Kilrathi ship is dealt by Korsakov and Kell. One of those had to kill, to say the least. She adds her missile to the general cacaphony of destruction on its way out. "Lead, Verdict. Confirmed. Sensors showing we've cleared that particular fighter party." She also waits of further orders, as to what the party is dealing with.

"Torch, Hammer. Doesn't look like much left over there, but all the same I'd feel better being there than here." Korsakov's Stiletto does a quick victory spin before he angles off towards the damaged Terran capship. "Let's end this party, shall we?"

"Splash four." Pip's voice comes across the systems, loud and clear. That does seem to be the magic number for him, on the last three missions, doesn't it? "We might as well all kill this last one." Turning away from the wreckage of the heavy fighter that tumbles away, cockpit cored by mass driver fire, he manages a low deflection shot on the Sartha as it screams past.

"Oh..that's just fucking GREAT!" Paz cries as the Sartha neatly sizzles a third of her left wing away. "That's just what I fucking needed to deal with right now!" she fumes. "You fucking furball coughing, ass licking, dumpster dining, mangy ass PUSSY!" she shouts, giving the departing Sartha the finger with her left hand while her right arm and it's functioning leg kick roll her now falling apart scimitar into as deep a dive as she dares…

Commodore Claybourne sets the unused cigar onto his chair's arm-rest, "Tell me the -moment- we have that pilot on board." "It's done, sir. They're wheeling her into medical right away." "Good. Full power to engines and guns. There's one left. Let's see if we can wrap this up." "It's highly unlikely we will hit it with our guns." "Sure it is. Wouldn't you shit yourself if you saw a corvette after you? Damn sight that is." "Good point, sir."

As the XO gives the orders to return to the vacinity of the Roger Young, Kell gives his affirmative to his leader before angling his fighter towards the remanents of the battle there before kicking the afterburner to full. As they approach it, the rookie pilot sees that there is only one hostile blip left and it's charging at his wingman, "Hammer, heads up, the Sartha spotted us and seems to be going head to head with us." He angles fighter to the left and then breaks right as the Sartha screams past to get a heat seeking lock before launching a missile that blazes after the Kilrathi.

<TC1> Majestic 6 speaks into the comm, "Strike wing, this is Commodore Claybourne on the TSC Roger Young. It seems we've run out of hostiles. Requesting escort back to TCS Majestic. Have three of your baby birds tucked away on board." He pauses, then adds, "They'll live."

The Roger Young manages a lucky shot, adding its beam weapons, generally meant for other capital ships, into the cockpit of the lone, utterly screwed strike craft. Its shot mixes with an utter symphony of destruction, the hell rained down upon it from the Majestic's brave fighter corps. The ship turns and aligns itself for Nav beacon 2, which is back the way everyone came in the first place.

Having made a particularly smooth landing on the deck, Pip's bright scarlet Scimitar is quickly nestled into its usual berth, and once the ladder is brought forth, the English Lieutenant is scrambling down, and tossing his helmet to his crew chief. "Just a few creases in the paint, Chuck. You had flying like a dream, lad." And, then? The unofficial CO of the 1087th leans back against his landing strut, and waits for the rest of the more damaged fighters are recovered, watching carefully for his wingmate, Paz. A dark scowl threatens to burst across face like a particularly nasty passing stormcloud. He is going to have words for a few people, after this near-disaster. Especially after their last real disaster.

Already advised that her communications gear is trashed, the Majestic's recovery crew use the blinkers to bring her down, which she manages to do with at least a little grace, considering how much of her bird falls off the second it enters the ship's gravity. "Hi, Chief." she grins up through where the canopy used to be. "I think I'm gonna need a new paintjob." she says jauntily, then passes out from pain and blood loss.

The TCS Roger Young is missing pieces. Armor has been torn clean through, exposing the crew quarters, which have been evacuated completely by the exposure to deep space. It's fortunate nobody was there, the ship having been in a full state of combat readiness, and for good reason. Sparks stream from the starboard shield emitters, and it's only the fact that sound doesn't travel in space which keeps it from groaning loudly as it shudders close enough to dock. Even then, anyone on the other side of the airlock will feel the thing shaking a little. The first people out the doors are Loflynn, Koenig, and Bianca, carried away on stretchers, and in a hurry. The next person to step in is Commodore Claybourne, still wearing his cowboy hat and holding his cigar. He steps through, then realizes what he's wearing, pulling it off of his head and replacing it with a regulation hat. The cigar… well, some things are sacred. He stashes that in his shirt pocket and looks around.

Melia is silently waiting near the hatch of the Roger Young a full escort of marines lined up each side as they wait to give the new commanding officer a full honored salute. "Commodore on deck present arms, Salute." She says going to stand in front of the man and snap off her own Salute. "Welcome to the TSC Majestic Sir, the Commander would be here to greet you himself but he is cleaning up, he says and sends his regards." She says when the new CO steps over the threshold. The scene of the carnage fighters and wounded behind her ignored, she's been told to greet the new CO so there she is as if nothing else is happening right now.

Aquilina brings his Stiletto into the hangar bay, touching down lightly. Once out of the cockpit, he pulls his helmet off and fishes in his front pocket for the usual cigarette, sure to stay out of the way of the departing medical teams. The smoke gets an annoyed look - it's bent - and he scratches at the back of his matted hair. And salutes, somewhere in there.

Bringing a slightly scarred Stiletto back to the hangar is starting to seem like Korsakov's trademark. It could have been a lot worse though, he realizes as he brings the wounded bird in for a landing. He springs from his cockpit, tossing his helmet to a handy deck crewman as he shimmies down the ladder to the deck. The Russian captain paces slowly down the hangar deck, surveying the other damaged ships and watching as the remaining fighters come in for a landing. That's about when Paz passes out. "Medical over here!" he bellows as the female pilot crumples, the XO moving to her side. Being no doctor himself, though, he doesn't try anything on his own other than carefully rolling her onto her back, but his attention is all on the unconscious pilot even as he hears attention on deck being announced.

Koenig is shot up nice and well with painkillers, and is currently being transferred from the Roger Young to the Majestic on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over his face and a medical tech muttering into a com, "We've got one wounded incoming, pilot. Internal injuries, and burns. Prep bay three for surgery and prepare five units of blood."

Bianca is another one of those being rolled through on a stretcher, her mass of red hair sticking out in all directions, matted with blood on the right side of her head. A tattooed shoulder is clear from her peeled off flight suit as well. If there was any doubt who the young, dirty mouthed, panicking pilot was over the comms…Well, by the looks of her one could make a few safe assumptions.

Xiang's Stiletto touches down on the Majestic as smoothly as one of those things can touch down. She made it through that mess largely unscathed. She hops out of the cockpit, helmet off, face sweat-streaked and flushed from their foray into space. Some of her dark hair has come loose from its bun. But not much. That thing is tight. She watches the wounded being wheeled out by medical, expression somber. Though she doesn't forget to straighten up and salute proper when she catches sight of the Commodore.

Jenthson's already on his way across the deck toward Paz' fucked up fighter, boots carrying him past technicians and medical teams rushing to and fro. Eyes glance to the Russian, as he turns her over, and the Englishman moves in close, until less than gently pushed a bit off to the side, as the medics arrive, and begin to see to their work. The other wounded? Ignored. They're not his pilots. This one, alas, is. As for the Commodore on deck? That gets nary a glance, and most certainly no military attention.

Escorting the large Venture back towards the task force, Kell maintains his alertness and professionalism despite the jubilation building inside him. His pleased feeling is slightly damped though as he sees the nasty damage that the Roger Young had suffered, wincing as he knows that some of the torpedoes had hit home. Luckily the flight back is uneventful as the Kilrathi's attack force was pounded to dust and Kell's Stiletto is one of the last ones to land, being one of the lesser damaged Fighters so he stayed out to maintain a protective escort pattern around the ships while the ones who need attention more lands first.

When it is finally his turn to land, Kell lands the slightly battered and scorched craft smoothly. However, as he opens the cockpit, he sees and hears the commotion on the landing bay, a frown forming on his face as he steps onto the flight deck.
Dante steps clear of the airlock and peers around, then nods to Melia, extending a hand towards her in the universal symbol for 'hold on a minute', "That's alright, Corporal." His voice is clearly southern bred, with a higher pitched tone. The man's clealy a tenor, and has a slightly gritty, weathered quality to him. He starts to walk past the crew, slowly looking each of them over. Jenthson's lack of attention gets a glance, but nothing more.

Loflynn gets wheeled off, her flightsuit removed and a goodly part of her uniform. An oxygen mask is fitted over her mouth and nose and she is a little grey to the skin as the corpsmen rush her off to get into medbay and get under the auspices of the CMO right away.

Korsakov exchanges a knowing look with Jenthson as the medics arrive for Paz. She may not be one of his, but she's a pilot in his wing, and that's good enough for him. Never let it be said that the dour Russian doesn't have at least a shred of humanity, eh? As Dante disembarks and starts looking over the crew, he gets an identical look from Max as he passes the Russian pilot. It's not exactly disrespectful, but Korsakov isn't being quite discreet about it, either.

As a gaggle of medics descend to tend to the unconscious Paz, it becomes apparent that she's taken a far worse beating than she was letting on. Her left leg, just below mid-thigh lies at a disgustingly odd angle and was pierced to the bone by a long, but narrow spike of structural material from her splintered cockpit. Both her ears are bleeding from blown ear drums and she's a patchwork quilt of scratches and plexiglass shrapnel. Nothing that can't be fixed, but nothing to be sneezed at, either.

The mission complete, the enemy vanquished, Valentine coaxes his Scimitar back to base and landing without problem. Even before his vessel's rolled to a halt, the Wing Commander is popping his hatch and unbuckling. Vaulting from the cockpit, the man looks about almost frantically as he pops his helmet. "Where is she?" he's calling, dropping the helmet even as he moves deeper into the hangar. "Where's Frejdot? Has anyone seen Loflynn!?"

Aquilina's eyes are on the wounded being hauled out, particularly Paz. Eyes staying that way and one hand behind his back, he lights his cigarette. Deck crew be damned, and apparently Dante's scrutiny as well. As Val comes off in a frenzy, he exhales a slow curl of smoke and his attention shifts that way, one brow slowly arching.

Melia eyes slowly via off for a second as not only does her CO get wheeled away but also her Bomber Pilot. "I have been ordered to be at your disposal until you have familiarize yourself with the Majestic sir, an armed escort will be posted out side your quarters until the official change over has been completed." She's speaking in formal tones, behaving herself for once

Looking up from his wounded pilot, realizing there is nothing he can actually do for her at the moment, Frethan finds his feet once again, and turns toward Val's apparent freak-out. "Hammer. Are you going to shut that son-of-a-bitch up, or am I?"These words are -not- spoken quietly, and the middle-aged First John steps away from Paz's wrecked fighter, with a look back toward his critically wounded pilot. "Valentine. Stop. Quiet. Think. We have bodies lying on the goddamned deck, and you're screaming like a frightened child. Straighten the -fuck- up, and act like a leader." A pause, and he points to the hatchway that the Marine Major was just evacuated through. "Your woman is on her way to the fucking sickbay, -Colonel-. If you had stopped to think, and used your goddamned radio, you would've known that." Attention shifts back to Dante, after that. Waiting to see his reaction to both outbursts. Sorry, Hammer. Pip decided on his own.

Melia eyes now focus on Valentine, she feels for the man at least in part she'd felt like weeping a few times in the past herself. "Sir, yes sir." She says quietly. "Where do you want to go first sir, may I suggest the bridge or would you rather visit the wounded, always good for moral." She says with a quick grin, as she gently mangers the man.

Korsakov simply stands there, any potential reply to Pip cut off as the older lieutenant launches into his tirade anyhow. His eyebrow sneaks upwards as he looks from Valentine to Jenthson and back. "Well. I believe that answered your question, Colonel?" is his only response, his tone devoid of emotion or feeling. "Your Major is in good hands. They aren't, yet." He indicates the wounded pilots still being pulled off the deck, Pav in particular. "They might be worthy of a sliver of concern, as well." After a long look at Valentine and a nod to Pip, Korsakov steps off. Aquilina gets a look, and Korsakov changes course to approach the other man, but this time he isn't going to bitch Aq out for smoking on the deck. Instead, two fingers make a jerky motion towards the other man: smokerspeak for 'gimme one'. Yeah, it's been one of those days.

Aquilina meets Xiang's look with a mild one of his own. The 1st Lieutenant doesn't quite seem impressed with any of this. It's like watching your parents fight, except your parents are around your age and just wear more brass. A thick cloud of smoke drifts up around his head and he looks at

Korsakov as the man comes over. A light smirk and he digs a second cig from his pocket, cocking his wrist to hand it across.

Fortunately, the medics gather Paz, with a 'z', up onto a gurney and wheel her smartly towards medical before she can come to and enjoy any of the fun.

Paz leaves, heading towards the Aft Lift [AL].
Paz has left.

Xiang looks as if she doesn't know quite what to make of interplay between the ranking pilots. Her expression mirrors Aquilina's mild one. Though she's not smoking, for her part. She takes a breath and exhales it slowly, wiping a sleeve of her sweaty face as she watches the medics finish bearing the wounded away.

A scowl is given to each of the men and women on deck, and once he's given the information he sought, Valentine nods grimly. "Good." he states simply. Eyes slide over Jenthson, and he does not seem impressed with the man's outburst. Stepping towards a group of the wounded, Valentine begins to see to their needs, his voice ringing out to direct matters. But after a few moments, he strides to Jenthson once more. "You've volunteered for cleanup, -Lieutenant-." he states simply. "If you need me, I'll be on the bridge delivering the report." With that said, Valentine turns on his heel and strides towards the lift.

Swoooshh…. thump.. thump… THWACK… screeeeeach. For the curious, that's roughly the sound that a Stiletto makes when it tries to land without the benefit of all four tailplanes and two of its three engines. The all-black Stiletto rather quickly comes to a halt (having landed at a rather dangerously low speed to begin with) after bouncing off the decking twice, turning slightly sideways in the last moments of its return to the deck. The cockpit pops open, and Major Pickett casually steps out, placing his flight gloves inside his helmet and lobbing the helmet up into the cockpit. "Well." Pickett comments idly as he looks around the deck. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's had a rough flight."

Dante watches the Wing Commander leave in a huff, then turns towards Melia, "No. Not yet. Take me to the bridge. I want to see our operational status, our theater ops, up to date -everything-. Then I'll check in on medical. And I want that man's file on my desk. See who taught Maverick to act like that in basic." He shrugs to himself.

"What a nancy…." Frethan's words are lost in the sound of Pickett's difficult landing, and the Lieutenant turns with a quick two-finger salute for Val's back. "Someone needs to arrange an accident for that child." A silent shake of his head, and Pip offers are friendly wave to Pickett as he appears. "Aye, Archangel. You just missed our new Commodore's arrival. We had three go EVA, plus Major…." He seems lost for a moment, trying to remember Loflynn's name…both of his flight-glove clad hands come out in front of his chest, as if cradling a huge pair of bazongas…"The Marine with the cans, Major." A sigh, and he returns to glaring around the flight deck, littered with fucked up birds, now. "Paz, Koenig, and some new kid that came in with the Commodore are all in medbay."

Melia nods her head slowly, her face a little frown as she regard the retreating back of Valentine. "He never use to be like that." She's about to lead the way when Pickett land. "What the hell, Archangel, I didn't know you was out." She recovers herself quickly shaking her head and going back to buisness Tom can explain later she supposes. "Right you are sir…As for files, not my job sir, might wanna talk to the XO I'm escort duty only you want a goofer not it."

"I'm not sure anyone else did either" Pickett notes with amusement as he looks towards Melia. "And before you say a /word/ about the fighter, you should see the other guy" Pickett comments with a little feral grin, idly undoing the very top of his flight suit, giving himself a little more room to breathe. Looking back towards Pip, he gives a little nod. "Jesus, Joseph, and doggy-style Mary" Pickett comments idly, shaking his head slightly. "How many did you get?"

Dante nods to Melia, smiling to himself, "Of course, Corporal. Thinking out loud, I guess. Let's get a move-on."

Vincent arrives from the Fore Lift.
Vincent has arrived.

Melia gives Pickett one last look, and mouth we'll talk later then she points to the Commodore's back making a face. "Of course sir." She says, going to give one last glance around the bay before she's leading the brass head off to the bridge.

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