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Mission Report-R2 202/PSG201

By Col. Ste T - stetyson@gmail.com

Red 5

Ste strolled down the ramp of the shuttle onto a disturbingly quiet hangar
deck aboard the McGrath, "No welcoming committee. They'd better at least
have a drink waiting in the bar." He muttered to himself. Ste had been away
on personal business for a long time, he'd had sketchy reports that the
fleet was in trouble, but hadn't realised how bad things were until the news
arrived that the fleet was on the verge of being disbanded. Back on the
flight deck again, Ste would do what he could to ensure the future of the
oldest fleet in the RS. But first he had some catching up to do, shouldering
his concussion rifle he set off for his quarters.

As the door opened Ste was greeted by a loud series of beeps and squeals,
"Hi Trash" he smiled at the excited Astromech rocking from side to side in
front of him. "You've been keeping track of things for me I see." Ste rolled
his eyes at the reams of data and reports piled high on his desk. "Looks
like I'll be busy for." Ste was cut off as the sirens calling pilots to
scramble sounded through the ship. Looking to the door; he could hear
running in the corridor outside, turning back to the mess on his desk he
made his decision. "Guess I'll just figure out what's happening as we go
along." Sweeping all the reports into the waste chute next to the desk
revealed his helmet and pistol. Swinging the concussion rifle from over his
shoulder he placed it on the rack above his desk. Then with pistol in one
hand and helmet in the other he set off at a run for the briefing room.

At least it's a simple job to get me started again Ste thought to himself as
he pulled on his flightsuit. Noticing the red squadron patch sewn over the
green one he spared a thought for comrades lost in the recent months. But
this wasn't the first time he'd lost a squadron, the outline of a phoenix
wreathed in flames stencilled on the back of his flight suit stood testament
to that. Putting such melancholy thoughts to the back of his mind Ste left
the locker room and walked onto the flightdeck towards a waiting A-Wing.

Several hours later a battered A-Wing settled down back on the McGrath's
flight deck and a bruised Ste clambered out. "OK, so maybe I shouldn't have
sent my wingman home on my first mission back." He growled sullenly at a
waiting Spokes. Having suffered as Ste's commanding officer for some time
Spokes let it go and waited for a full report knowing it would be
forthcoming. Ste vaulted down to the deck and steadied himself before he
spoke again. "I can confirm hostiles at the target location. As ordered I
refrained from killing them all and didn't blow everything up so if we want
to go liberate their supplies we can. I thought it prudent to take out the
fighters they launched against me, but regret to report that a Y-Wing made
it out of there. He was pretty badly shot-up so I wouldn't bet on him
surviving the jump, but there's a chance they've been warned, whoever they
are."

"Thanks Ste. And welcome back." Spokes smiled at the pilot. "Thank you Sir,
it's good to be home." Ste grinned, "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go fly
those sims, looks like I need the practice."