Destroy the Revenant!

D'Qar
- one hour after contact was lost with Katarn Force -

The rain came down in sheets. Torrential showers with distant peels of thunder to mark time. At Starbase Cresh, the security guards on the perimeter raised their rifles as the sight of approaching headlights. The gate master held a hand up just behind the cordon, prompting the speeder to slow to a stop so he could check the new arrival. Cinching his rain-slicked overcoat tighter, he peered into the back window, spotting a face that most-certainly had clearance to be here. With a salute, he ordered the gate to be raised, and the speeder passed by. From here, it was another two kilometers to the command nexus.

The speeder headed down the paved pathway, gliding once more to a halt at the closest spot to the entryway. The driver popped open the gull wing hatch, quickly unfurling an umbrella. Not for himself, but for the person he was escorting in the back seat. He opened the door, holding the parasol so that there was enough overlap for the General to emerge. Taataani Meorrrei stepped out from the dry confines of her speeder, quickly adjusting the collar of her jacket to stand against her neck and shield her for any rain blown under from the side. A wreath of smoke curled from the cigar she kept fixed between her teeth. The former Chancellor's face was fixated and grim as she puffed. Not waiting to acclimate herself to the awful weather, General Meorrrei moved toward the entry with a hasty gait.

"Anjy worrd frrom Generral Luka?" she called to the approaching Captain of the Guard.

"He is on his way, General."

She nodded tersely as the Captain met her halfway and continued through the rain in lockstep.

"And the fjighterr ssquadrronss?"

"We've sounded all quarters, ma'am. They're assembled in the ready room."

"Good." Taataani puffed at her cigar, curling her tail in as soon as it began to wander beyond the parasol.

"We don't have tjime to wasste. We fjinalljy have an opporrtunjitjy to deal a blow to the enemjy. Ssend me jin."

The trio passed under the threshold of the large duracrete awning of the base. The driver deftly turned the parasol away, shaking away excess moisture as he drew it shut, allowing the Captain of the Guard to lead General Meorrrei to the briefing room.

A race was on. A race she was determined to win.

Of all of the planets the Resistance could have chosen for their secret headquarters, why had they settled upon one where it rained so often?

That was the trivial gripe that occupied Jaden's thoughts as the icy rain seeped it's way past his drenched hair, and soaked it's way through his skull and into his brain. It ached, as if the chilling moisture was trying to constrict and crush his mind into oblivion. Yet it was a welcome distraction from the other unruly thoughts that ricocheted around the inside, the gradually reducing surface area somehow focusing his mind onto a more concentrated task.

General Luka had been watching the situation unfold over the past days with the same kind of grim and objective fascination that he'd applied to news of Imperial atrocities back in the good old days. As a spacer, he had watched devastation unfold, knowing that he was powerless to intervene. As a Rebel pilot, he had watched knowing that eventually the time would come when action would be asked of him; risking his life on behalf of the Alliance's plan, for a chance at retribution. Today was different, though. It would be him putting the loaded blaster in their hands, asking the men and women of the Resistance to risk it all for the right cause. Somewhere along the line, peace had robbed him of the chance to conceive a plan and follow it through on his own; circumstance had forced him into this state of having to order his subordinates to face deadly risks without quite feeling as if he'd earned the right to. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps that was the trait that would ensure he never became cavalier with their lives.

A trickle of cold water meandered it's way down his spine, creeping past the protective barrier of his rain-sodden uniform. He ignored it, pattering his way down the stairs into the command centre a little faster than due care permitted.

"How many?" he asked, the moment that Taataani came into view. They were quite the contrast: even in her more practical military attire, her image was still carefully crafted to convey exactly the image of authority that she wanted; whereas Jaden looked like he'd been snagged in the middle of rolling out of his bunk and into his cockpit. What he wouldn't give for that to be his intended destination now.

"How many did we lose?"

- Katarn Base -
One Hour Ago

"Honey, the kids have been put to bed," came the warm voice that she was so familiar with. Opening her eyes, Anne glanced up from the bed to see her loving husband moving towards her with a purpose, his warm eyes glancing up and down her lithe figure as she pulled back the covers as an invitation.


"Well then, I suppose we should do the same. I'm not feeling all that tired though, perhaps you could help me get sleepy enough?" she cornily asked in a sweet and warm voice. He didn't waste any time slipping underneath the covers after divesting himself of clothing. Reaching one hand around the back of her head he pulled her in for a kiss.


She closed her eyes as normal, preferring to devote all of her senses to the sensual abuse of her lips. When she opened her eyes after they broke apart, the face of her husband was gone, replaced by that of Supreme Leader Xaanan. Fear gripped her heart as her body froze while an evil smile spread itself across his sinister face. The hand that had been gently gripping the back of her head fisted as it yanked on a handfull of her hair, holding her in place.


"Yes that's right my precious little Rebel. I took your husband, I took your children, and now I shall take you as well," he sneered as both of his black gloved hands wrapped themselves around her throat. She couldn't breathe as she started to convulse under him, she didn't want to die, his eyes were so evil, and then......


The alarm woke her up, finally. Her relief at coming alive out of another nightmare was cut short as she realized that it wasn't her timed alarm but an emergency alert coming over the comm. The insistent beeping was keeping in tune with her racing heart but she was working on calming one down even as she stopped the other with a flick of a sweaty hand.


"This is Phoenix, go ahead," she said in a dry and shaky voice.


"Capt, sorry for the interruption but we're recieving two priority alerts, one from Katarn Base and another from D'Qar," said her second in command.


"Is the base under attack? Is D'Qar under attack?" Anne asked in sudden worry.


"No ma'am, to both. Katarn Base is requesting our assistance with a priority rescue mission, and D'Qar is requesting every available starfighter squadron," replied her secondary.


'Well that doesn't make much sense.' "Why doesn't Katarn Base send a part of Katarn Force?"


"Well ma'am, apparently Katarn Force is what needs to be rescued."


"Oh...oh bloody hell. All right, what is our current unloading status?" asked Anne.


"Ninety percent unloaded ma'am. The other two transports are at about seventy percent."


"All right. Order the personnel to concentrate on unloading Excelsior specifically and recall any personnel on leave. Has Angel Flight been scrambled yet?"


"Working on it now ma'am."


"Good, put me through to Lieutenant Mancuso."


"It will be done."


As she sat there in bed a sudden headache let itself be known. Digging into her nightstand she withdrew a bottle and popped a couple of pills. She really didn't need this right now. A moment later the wreckage of her alarm fell to the wall as it went off and compounded her headache. Mancuso came through just as she swung her legs off the cot and was preparing to get up.

- Katarn Base -
one minute after contact was lost with Katarn Force

He had a stinker of a hand and little hope of recovering his bet. His neutral face didn't give any of it away or so he hoped. It would take a miracle to get him out of the current jam he was in and he knew it. Of course, Angels had a way of making miracles happen and this time was no different as a sudden alarm began blaring overhead.


"Angel Flight scramble," came the now familiar voice over the speaker. With their mostly human crew it took a while getting used to hear a female Sullustian voice making all of the big announcements but with close to a full day being spent on base they gradually got used to the change. With the Resistance it just came with the ever changing scenery of the various worlds they made supply runs to.


He threw his cards face down on the table. Angel Three took a quick peek at them and muttered a quick "I knew it" as she grabbed her helmet and made for the door. He couldn't keep a small smile from his lips as he grabbed his and followed suite.


Once outside they started jogging towards their A-wings, parked in the main landing field along with the T-70 X-wings that were kept around for base defense. Glancing around he saw personnel rushing to unload the transport that he normally called home but no base personnel were rushing to man the laser cannons that ringed the base. That meant that the base itself probably wasn't under attack.


He was in his cockpit strapping in when the call came over his comms from Excelsior. He used his elbow to tap the answer button as he secure his last strap and engaged the cockpit window closer.


"Mancuso here, go ahead."


"Lieutenant Mancuso, this is Captain Phoenix. We've recieved a priority message from D'Qar requesting the presence of all available starfighter squadrons. You'll be joining Hawkbat and Starstrider squadrons from Katarn Base. We'll be heading out on a rescue mission ourselves. Unless you recieve orders otherwise we'll meet back up on D'Qar after this is over," came the briefing from his leader.


"Roger that Capt. See you on the other star," Bart replied with a grunt. He changed channels as some of the T-70's nearby began lifting off.


"Okay guys check in. We'll be heading to D'Qar right away. Angel One, two lit and ready to go."


"Angel Two, I have two engines operating nominally," came the serious and professional voice of his most serious opponent in Sabaac.


"Angel Three, I have two hot ones ready to burn some Imps," responded the voice of their only female pilot, a gal that liked to have fun and be serious at the same time.


"Angel Four, everything's looking green," ironically came the voice of their greenest pilot, the young rookie assigned to their flight less then a month ago.


"Angel Flight scramble. Let's see if we can't dust the T-70's on our way to D'Qar," commanded Mancuso as his A-wing lifted off the ground and headed for the skies. Once he was high enough off the ground he opened the throttles wide up and was pushed back into his seat with mounting g's as the powerful Novaldex engines whined in the atmosphere.


By the time they'd reached the jump point the Angels had indeed passed the other two squadrons. Blowing them a kiss, Mancuso laughed as they engaged the hyperdrives and went on their way.

- D'Qar -

One Hour after contact was lost with Katarn Force

Mancuso whistled as he glanced around at the gathering of starfighters. The Resistance was really pulling out all of the stops with whatever was going on. Fuel and supply trucks abounded as they serviced all of the fighters, including Angel Flight's recently landed A-wings. He saw T-70 X-wings, T-65 X-wings, other A-wings, even some B-wings and others he didn't recognize off hand.


"Man, what do you think's going on?" asked Angel Three.


"Maybe we're going to attack Death Star 3.0," replied Angel Four.


"Man, don't even kind around with stuff like that," shot back Three.


"We won't know for certain until we're briefed. All of this speculation serves no useful purpose. Everyone seems to congregating in the main hangar. Perhaps we should head there as well," came the serious and soft voice of Two.


"Let's go Angels, this should be interesting," said Mancuso with a hint of excitement. The adrenaline was starting to hit him now as a spring developed in his step. He was really looking forward to whatever was coming.

“You know what this means, don't you? Either this is gonna be one hell of a party, or parsec-long turd has hit a fan that's pointing directly at us. Why else haul us all up in front of the General?”

“Maybe she'll pat us on the back and cut us a cigar.”

So it went, back and forth as the planet-side contingent of Dagger Squadron trooped towards the ready room. Suited up and with helmets under arm, there was – in spite of the lighthearted chatter – an unspoken understanding about what they were heading towards: the unknown.

Cosimo kept a brisk pace at the head of the group, yards in front. Whatever they were walking into, he just wanted to get there. Any kind of news was better than none at all. It didn't matter that the call to attention had been when half of the squadron were off duty, taking their mandated rest and relaxation time. The medical staff on site insisted on it, but real relaxation was hard to come by. Instead, they lay in their bunks, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence and waiting for it to shatter into sirens.

By the time they filtered into the briefing room, clutches of pilots wearing the insignia of half a dozen squadrons were ready and waiting. Cos took a spot that would give him a good view and stood with arms folded over his chest. He stared at the point where he thought the General's would soon stand. Were they going to announce an attack on the First Order? Had they uncovered some key piece of intel that would allow the Resistance to deliver a crippling blow? However might he fought it, hope kindled inside Cos.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by General Luka

"How many?

How many did we lose?"

---

Taataani moved close to Jaden as the throng began to assemble, not wanting to indiscriminately broadcast the bad news before they had a chance to season it and make it palatable. Within close enough range for the cigar smoke to close the distance, she spoke low.

"Katarrn Forrce jiss esstjimated to be a total losss. Fourr gunsshjipss, two frrjigatess..."

She paused, glancing at another wave of pilots taking their seats.

"...two crrujisserrss."

General Meorrrei was many things. Leader of the Resistance, sure. She'd used her force of will and unfathomable wealth to enable her to stamp a foot and sprout an army. She could give her fighters the means to fight, and she could give them the inspiration to fight, but she was not a tactician in the way that General Luka was. He wore insignia on his jacket because he earned it, a distinction that Taataani respected. While every man and woman of the Resistance was in some way part time chef, cook, and bottle-washer as the need demanded, it was Taataani's duty to arrange the pieces on the board so that each could do their utmost. Whatever battle tactics that the ex-Chancellor may have informally learned on the fly, she knew when to defer to the experts. That meant that she needed their counsel.

"Katarrn basse jiss handljing rresscue and ssalvage, and thejy have ssent fjighterr rrejinforrcement."

Turning her shoulder away from the growing crowd, Taataani put her hand on Jaden's own shoulder to pivot him away as well.

"We jusst losst almosst a quarrterr of ourr capjital fleet, Generral, but we majy have a chance to bujy vjictorrrjy."

General Meorrrei separated her cigar from her mouth, pulling it away from her lips.

"Thejy found the Rrevenant. Herr prrecjisse locatjion!"

The urgency in Taataani's whisper almost rose the volume too far, and the self-styled General reigned it in.

"Beforre we losst Katarrn, thejy got out a ssjingle tjightbeam comm. Rrevenant'ss hjyperrdrrjive jiss out, and sshe took heavjy damage. Therre'ss blood jin the waterr, and we have herr sscent."

The crews of the X-Wing squads domiciled at D'Qar descended upon the briefing room in an orderly stampede. Speculation was currency among the fighter jocks, and everyone had a theory about the broadcasted general quarters. The latest scrap of info was that they were being reinforced by at least three squadrons from Katarn Base. If that was true, then this was (a) not a drill, and (b) something huge.

Flagging behind the scrum, Lieutenant Ham Warchenzbellsig seemed somehow immune from the pressure cooker he was walking into. Quite the opposite, really. While other pilots buzzed with nervous energy, he shuffled his feet a bit, holding a datapad a scant few inches below his face to attempt to both read and walk at the same time.

"Ham, you have any idea what's going on? Kob-Awl says he heard the First Order was invading Bastion again."

"Mm? I guess so. Maybe."

"Maybe? Did you hear anything about it or not?" Ensign Teekta's head-tails twitched, betraying the Twi'lek's impatience.

"I heard we're flying mixed unit formations. They had the bombers on the tarmac too."

"Sounds nice."

"Sounds...?!" Flummoxed, Teekta pulled away the datapad away from the Lieutenant's grasp, which finally got Ham's attention.

"Come on now, I was readin' that!"

Teekta glanced at the datapad Ham was scouring, expecting to find some kind of unrevealed situation report. His lekku stiffened.

"Tournament of Starvation, Book Three?"

"Give it back!"

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Taataani Meorrrei

"Rrevenant'ss hjyperrdrrjive jiss out, and sshe took heavjy damage. Therre'ss blood jin the waterr, and we have herr sscent."

---

Blood in the water. You didn't need to be an empath, or a Jedi, or a psychologist to pick up on the predatory glimmer in Taataani's manner. The Cizerack were cats in every sense of the comparison. Catch them on a good day, and they could be as soft, playful, and affectionate as anything; but find yourself on the wrong side of them, and it was nothing but teeth, and claws, and the ruthless hunter's instincts of a species that had evolved to the apex of their food chain.

Jaden felt a little of the same instinct in himself, too. Fighter pilots were the apex predators of the stars, in a way, and those old instincts urged Jaden to sprint off to his vintage A-Wing and surge into action. But Lieutenant Luka and Commander Luka were three decades out of date, and those instincts belonged to those incarnations of his earlier self. General Luka had other considerations, other obligations, other responsibilities. Like his responsibility to advise. He was supposed to be the voice of caution, the voice of restraint, the voice of thinking first and searching for the best strategy, as opposed to the immediate one. It was hideous, and he hated Taataani more than a little for entrusting him with such a burden.

"The Revenant didn't take out all our ships with her hyperdrive. She's got more weapons and armour on her than a paranoid Mandalorian, and there's only so much damage a few cruisers and frigates could have achieved."

His stomach twisted. You were a Rogue once, his subconscious screamed at him, chiding his obligated pessimism and restraint. What do you care about the odds?

Jaden's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as much of an internal and external grimace as he would allow his features to present.

"There aren't many eggs left in our fleet, General. Far fewer than the First Order has at it's disposal, that's for sure. As mighty tempting as this one basket is, it's also one hell of a precarious prospect."

Katarn Base
- one hour after contact was lost with Katarn Force -

"We've received clearance from Katarn Command to depart," came the voice of her number two.


"Dispatch final orders to the other two transports. Once finished they're to proceed to the battle site and recover the deceased and salvageable equipment. We'll focus on recovering survivors and databank recorders," ordered Captain Phoenix.


A slight thrum ran through the ship as the repulsorlifts elevated the bow off the surface. A moment later the thrum became a shudder as the main engines fired, before settling down into a slight audible rumble.


"We're away. Hyperspace jump in one minute fifty five seconds."


"Very well number two. You have the helm. Signal me at the five minute to exit mark," said Anne as she stood up from the cramped bridge and headed aft.


Her stomach growled loudly during her solo trip down the turbolift. She hadn't eaten or drinken anything since awakening from her nightmare and had been running off adrenaline until this point in time.


A cup of caf and some rations sounded grand. Perhaps she would be able to find someone in the mess to talk to about her issues as well. It was time to open up to someone else about the dreams she'd been having.

They settled into seats in about the middle of the briefing room. The lights had already dimmed by the time they arrived and Bart could see a few mid-grade officers by the central area, along with a couple of senior officers having an animated discussion near the edge of the room.


Settling down into his seat with a sigh he glanced around at the other pilots and noted the high number of fair skins dominating the ranks, along with some other alien species. Some of the late arrivals were fighting over a datapad, while some apparently chose to stand instead of sitting despite the extra last minute seating that had been provided.


Like himself, Tash was surveying the room while the rookie and Sheele were having a low key conversation. Ignoring them he pulled out his personal datapad to take notes while waiting for the briefing to begin.

"Put that shit away, Ham. Get your game face on."

Captain Jaska pushed past Ham and his slow-strolling Blue Squadron mates, not wanting their navel-gazing to slow her and her Gold Squadron pilots down. Siloo was edgy and it showed. She walked on the balls of her feet, each stride springing through her coiled frame as she stared ahead at the briefing room with intensity.

This was going to be big. Already the space was thick with fighter jocks. They'd deployed multiple squadrons on missions before, but it looked like now something might actually be causing the General to go All In. The electricity of the buildup was running through every inch of her, and Siloo's stomach felt like it was in a zero gee fall. It wasn't an uncommon feeling. She was more cagey than a starved Nexxu during briefing, and it took a bit of a ritual to set herself right before takeoff. Each and every time.

"Sansa," she called back to the junior cadet on her squad. The half-Chiss pilot had the natural talent she craved, but her combat experience was still thin. Siloo had a feeling that was about to change.

"Stick close."

The sharp, severe sounds of klaxons disturbed the relative peace of D'Qar and demanded everyone's attention in short order. Pilots scrambled for the briefing room in a relatively orderly fashion, the tension write across most of their features belied by the jokes and barbs that were effortlessly tossed through the air. Winter caught sight of pilots marked in both blue and gold, and finally, a knot of red moving together towards the door.

Captain Ocasta nodded to her pilots, lofting a brow in warning as they prepared to join in the banter. They thought better of making any form of comment, falling into relative quiet as they took note of who was walking beside her. She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with Wraith, helmet tucked under her left arm, her right hastily ensuring her flight suit was properly zipped up. Long platinum curls escaped her careless ponytail, but she paid them no mind...there was too much to observe as it was.

Blue eyes narrowed as they entered the briefing room and Brianne paused, staring down towards the center of the room where Generals Luka and Meorrei were in hushed conversation. While lip-reading was not her bailiwick, body language most certainly was given that she was Lorrdian. Head canted to the side, she watched the tension tighten Luka's shoulders while the predatory drive lit Meorrei's features in a fashion she'd never seen before.

Whatever it was they were being scrambled for, it was big.

Seriously big.

A slow smile curled her lips and darkened her features as her free hand reached up to press lightly to the faded patch on her shoulder. One half represented the Jedi Order, the other, Rogue Squadron, the seals forever entwined in memory of her twin and her father. Today was a fine day for a little payback, she mused, finding a seat with her squadron and waiting for the briefing to finally begin.

Jain followed along in Captain Ocasta's wake. Last night she had been Brianne; this morning it was Captain Ocasta. That was how it was with them. Clear cut. Stark and specific. No point getting hung up on any sort of sentiment that didn't need to be there.

Part of him was glad to find her here, their perpetually crossing paths finding a way to prove that it had transcended beyond the confines of Republic service. Part of him regretted it deeply. At least with the Republic, they could scramble into their fighters the next morning and fly off in their own separate directions. Here in the Resistance, things were small enough to lead to the misfortune aftermath of sticking around. That was a complication that Wraith had absolutely no desire for.

He peeled away from Brianne as the pilots began to shuffle in, clustering together in their respective standing squadrons. He recognised a few of the markings here and there, old Alliance and Republic emblems that had been echoed and appropriated. His uncle had been obsessed with those; insistent that Jain learn about the glorious Alliance and the noble Republic, and all the brave men and women who'd defended them both with their lives. He wondered if his being here would make Soto Terius proud; standing by his convictions and all that. He knew his father sure as hell wouldn't be: Rinzai had no tolerance for rebellion of any sort; political, teenage, or otherwise.

Jain sought out a moment of eye contact with General Luka, his once and future CO; but the man was clearly distracted, his attention firmly focused on General Meorrrei and whatever it was they were discussing. Wraith knew that look. He'd seen that look in enough mission briefings back on the Dauntless. That was the bad look. That was Luka's the odds are against us and the situation is grim look. Some pilots were excited by that. Some pilots lived for the thrill and danger; the more worried the General was, the more exciting the mission promised to be. Not Jain. He knew what that look really meant.

Nestling into a corner amongst the handful of other recon pilots, Commander Terius cast his gaze around the briefing room, and wondered which ones among them wouldn't be coming back.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by General Luka

"The Revenant didn't take out all our ships with her hyperdrive. She's got more weapons and armour on her than a paranoid Mandalorian, and there's only so much damage a few cruisers and frigates could have achieved.

There aren't many eggs left in our fleet, General. Far fewer than the First Order has at it's disposal, that's for sure. As mighty tempting as this one basket is, it's also one hell of a precarious prospect."

---

The two Generals continued just out of earshot, and Taataani kept Jaden close to her through it. But they couldn't make this between just the two of them for much longer. Inertia was shifting, and it had to be acknowledged.

He was the expert here. An expert she relied on. Having vision could frame the picture. Words could inspire. Money could improve the odds. But all of that was for nothing without a plan of action. For all of Taataani's gifts, if Jaden Luka didn't see the way, then there was no going forward. General Meorrrei clasped her hand at the inside of Luka's arm.

"Can jit be done?"

A closed-ended question. Yes or no. If it was yes, then she needed a plan, and now.

And if no?

The Resistance couldn't take a shot to the mouth like that and do nothing. If they didn't respond and now, the entire movement was in jeopardy.

Jaden let out a quiet sigh, directed more at fate and the Force than at Taataani herself.

"I guess we'll find out," he offered quietly, careful to keep their discussion from being overheard. "Either that, or we'll die trying."

There wasn't any more to say; so Jaden followed silently as Taataani led them few the last few strides that brought them into the Resistance's operations centre, and towards the central holoprojector that was equal parts briefing room and command dais. He loitered off her right shoulder like a dutiful wingman until the last moment, at which point he peeled off, following the circumference of the projector for a few more paces, hands reflexively settling against the small of his back, the same way they always did when General Luka was about to stand and talk business at people.

"Alright jocks!" He barked; not a shout, but still loud enough to pierce through the ambient mutterings and whisperings of conversation, and draw the attention of anyone who hadn't noticed the Generals entering. "Mouths shut, ears open. There's a job to be done, and we don't have much time."

With a glance towards Taataani, and a subtle, respectful nod, he took half a step back and conceded the floor to General Meorrrei, curious to hear how she planned to break the news to her troops.

Ham filed into the briefing room at just the right time, as General Luka cleared the chatter with a call for order.

"Oi lads, game faces." Ham called back to his squad-mates, miming the motion of literally wiping the grin from his expression. He worked his way in to the semicircle, which was fast filling up with pilots. Gold squad were already rallied around Captain Jaska, and Red squad was also lined up. Ham filed in with the stragglers in a flurry of scuse me, pardon me, comin' throughs. Eventually, the crush of humanity terminated with him standing next to Captain Ocasta and one of her subordinate El Tees. The easy smile was back on Ham's face, giving Terius a nod and only reciprocated to Ocasta as an afterthought.

Only now, at the cusp of action, did Ham have a free moment to acknowledge a pressing concern. A rare frown crossed his face, and he shifted his weight slightly.

Bad time to need to wee.

General Luka's call for attention cut through the ranks like a lightsaber through Stormtrooper armor.

Cos chewed the inside of his cheek, an old habit. He was nervous. Something about the tone of the General's voice didn't fill him with confidence. A job to do and not much time to do it? That was their bread and butter, but the kind of job that needed all available hands was a different thing altogether. Not one that they hadn't been prepared for, but one that Cosimo, and perhaps many of the other pilots too, had yet to play an active part in.

There was more information to come, this time from General Meorrrei.