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 Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2009 7:43 pm
A former wealthy entrepreneur of Corneria and his twin brother formed the incredible station and its fleet almost out of nowhere. Viktor Shepherd commands the fleet and his brother Nikolai runs the Station. The population of the Station is a bit staggering considering its very sudden appearance, as well as the power of its experienced fleet. Because of their family history, the Shepherd twins have good relations with Corneria and have claimed that they are using the fleet for the betterment of their home planet; however their motives have recently come into question as they have recently been charged with protecting and hiding the fugitives from Star Wolf.
Alhena and it's fleet can travel across the deep space, though doing so takes much time. Despite what most believe, Alhean's Fleet is something comparable to that of Corneria and Panacea, and the fighter fight hard to keep their home safe. Testing them, is like testing one of the major planetary forces.
Alhena is currently Idle just out off of Papetoon's Orbital Region.
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Posted: Fri Feb 27, 2009 1:26 pm
It was quite on several decks of the Wolfen Terror, the dark-skinned sister ship of the famous Great Fox cruiser. Each of the present members of the team were busy working away the minutes as best they could as they awaited the silent menace evading the radar. Cornerian squadrons, dozens of them, were swarming just out of the detection zone of the ships combat sphere. The number of squadrons present was a trivial matter to say the least. However, within each squadron of top fighters and legendary aces were additional wings and guns which were there to support the better pilots. Crush with relentless and overbearing odds, that was the game plan.
Raptor sat at the helm, anxiously strumming at three keys that because their nature and purpose did nothing more than light up and then flick out when struck. The ebony ave knew plain and well what was going on outside of his physical and mechanical eye because he could see the effects left behind. His eyes glanced at the Persian green dome shaped glass embedded into the center panel that displayed objects relatively close the ship as a red orbs. There were no orbs, but scurrying around the surface of the glass were swarms of vibrating masses of red. Something was there but not totally visible. These groups seemed to tease Raptor as he tried desperately to track their movements only have them shrink away and disappear from sight only for a similar or even large pattern of jumbled red pop up in the same place, a slightly different quadrant, or totally on a different side of the ship. While a man true to his father's teaching, most of which expressed action over thought, curiosity would not release his mind. He had to know what they were planning, for his sake and, more importantly, for his crew's sake.
How could this have all so suddenly occurred? They had been all been careful evading Corneria for the last three years. Then how did everything catch up to them so fast? Had someone tipped them off? Had they been tracked down? The ties Raptor had were deep and any gash made by friend or associate would have been a devastating scar to his already exhausted emotional self. Honestly all that running and planning had forced him to put away most of his joys for the sake of the crew, namely Summyr and Pandora who traveled with him nearly everywhere. The change in his behaviors, his attitude, and even his appearance had placed a sort of harsh spirit in him. It was horrible feeling to realize your decent into becoming something else, but there was little at that point, in his mind, that could be done to undo it.
Raptor leaned back in his chair with as a sigh slowly slipped past his black beak. "What are they waiting for? They have us outnumbered, and at this rate, I'd be smarter to just give up than fight! But... I can't? At this point I don't know what they would do to Pandora. Put her in a box again? Make her their perfect solider again. Or Sunny? Will they call her a traitor?" He leaned forward falling into his hands. All the anxiety was starting to work away at him. "If they find out who Sunny really is, she'd definitely be marked as a traitor and be tired for treason." He wouldn't let either scenario come to pass. Raptor would have to die first, which very well could be what happens to all of them if this outrageous attack was allowed to be carried out. "What do I do?" His mind began to point out available options, the most obvious being "The Box." He couldn't! He promised Pandora he'd never ask her to use that thing again.
In the lower section of the ship, Pandora peered at the ominous looking machine device standing before her. Large tubes dangled from the empty glass into the ceiling where stores of liquid oxygen. This room was, open to all, but for the most part, off limits to anyone and everyone, always. But with the threat of an invasion looming upon them, Pandora mind began to wonder if the device she was solely created to be the user of, the cold tank that the yellow eyed she-wolf despised so much, was the only was of getting out of this mess. Raptor would never condone its use and would rather be caught than let her use the monstrosity of an invention. This was not a normal situation, though. Everything seemed desperately hopeless. Could he really hold to his promise of not asking her to step into the "The Box," as the called it? Sure, she could never remember what she did to save while inside, but her body always in pain when she came too. It was an excruciating sensation that like no other she had ever felt, like needled longer and larger than a hand had been run through her body anywhere where one could fit. Moving hurt, sitting still was impossible, and to top it all of, she was plagued with a horrible migraine as well as the inconvenience of not being able to effectively mover her legs, as if she had never learned in the first place.
Wasn't the safety of the crew more important than her pain? Wait. Wasn't she the reason all of this was happening?
The no longer young wolf curled her knees into her chest and locked her arms around the legs. Her mood swings for the past few hours had been wild, swinging from sad to anger, to enraged, to break down, back to angry and back to sad. It was all too much to think about for the still mentally developing girl. Each happy thought that she found and tried to hang onto to only produced a sobering fact of the matter and three or more depressing realities. Even the want for her love, Marcus, only reminded her of the truth that if she were to see him again, he would have to separate her from her brother, Raptor. So many disheartening things with no light to hold onto; however will they make it through it all? Why does one make art when they know it will never bloom? Why even try when your effort looks effortless and empty?
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Posted: Wed Mar 11, 2009 3:29 pm
Sunny wrung her fingers. She couldn’t stop. Bone and knuckle rolled over each other in a painful cycle, soft fur becoming more and more coarse from the motion, but she couldn’t stop. The stress was getting to her; the concentrated intensity of their circumstance ate away at her nerves like acid on enamel - agonizing, painful, slow.
She sat against the wall outside the docking bay, legs up to her chest but apart, with her arms stiff and straight between them, fingers locked between each other. She was waiting for an order, a sign, anything that might let her do something about the hundreds of Cornerian troops just waiting to open fire.
“Come on…” Sunny mumbled hoarsely, “We gotta do somethin’…”
It was hard to say if it was even possible for them to get out alive. Probability said “no” – the young prodigy didn’t have to crunch the numbers to know that. Still, she had to hope. They had gone on for so long, made it so far without so much as passing a Cornerian cruiser, and now, out-of-the-blue, there they were – fighters, hundreds of them. Most of them experienced aces and sharp-shooters with real experience behind their belts.
They were playing it smart.
“Which means it was planned…” Sunny voiced, thinking aloud, “Which means we were set up… Which means someone’s barked about our location…”
She sighed heavily. For some reason it seemed more bothersome than distressing when she thought about it. Sunny was annoyed on death’s doorstep. But that was just part of who Summyr had become. The years had made the once naïve and hesitant youth a cunning, headstrong wolf. Of course her personality was still intact, but still… It was as if she’d truly become someone completely different…
Like Raptor…
Intact, and yet, broken.
Suddenly the she-wolf stood, brushing the dust from the back of her pants, and started off quickly down the hall. They needed a plan. Something, anything. She knew how dire their situation was, and she knew what their only reliable plan was… But there had to be another way. They just needed time.
It took her a while to get to the room from her position in the large ship. Finally she stood outside the large door of the terrible weapon that only her fellow wolf could control - Pandora’s Box. Sunny stood outside, reluctant to enter. The door itself was ominous. Every time she passed it, her heart dropped, remembering the day she’d seen the terrible device in action and Pandora, her best friend, floating with tubes and wires stringing her up like a doll in the tube of translucent purple.
Sunny swallowed hard. Finally she slid her card into the key-slot, punched in a code Sunny she’d used so rarely she was sure she would have forgotten it. The door opened and she stepped through. Green orbs caught the older wolf, curled up on the floor.
“Hey there,” Sunny spoke with a sad, sympathetic smile.
There might have been some comfort in the idea that Pandora was feeling the stress too, that they were two birds trapped in the same boat, but the red wolf knew that no matter how bad she felt, her friend felt it that much worse.
Art may look effortless and empty to the onlooker, but the process and sometimes even the final creation is something much more satisfying for its creator, if only temporarily. Having it appreciated by others is a great feeling too, of course, so then we advance our skills with time, which is a good feeling for the artist, too, when its not frustrating. : 3
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Posted: Thu Mar 12, 2009 4:34 pm
Anxiety had been chewing away at Pandora for the longest and she had not been expecting. Like a startled small creature, she jumped at the sound of Sunny's voice, pressing herself against the wall of wires and tubes with such frantic excitement that she made her entire left arm go numb. The other arm quickly sprang up to nurse the now feeble limb. A sharp whimper escaped her throat as she let her body slid back to the ground lifting up the back of her deep blue tank, letting her shoulder feel the smooth and gentle touch of the cold wires.
The whimpers were quickly replaced with an irate snarling. Pandora actually bore teeth at Sunny as she gave her an intense icy glower reminiscent of that moment they both first met. “Summyr!” came her roarish cry. All at once, Pandora came to like a light had gone off, or rather out, in her. The poor girl had scared herself into focus with her own tone. Curling back into her defensive ball, she placed her head between her legs and grimaced at the ground. “I…I’m sorry.” The hushed whisper barely made it passed the clone’s legs. Pandora knew she had nearly snapped on possibly the closest thing she had to a sister who had, in any way, done wrong. The gray wolf cursed at her jumpy behavior. Any prideful canine would if they pull that cat like performance.
Pandora lightly rolled her head back and let it thud against the wire before leaning forward again to asses her arm. Slowly, her finger curled up and straightened. Whether they were responding to her or just doing it was beyond her, but to know she had movement in the lifeless limbs seemed to bring a little comfort to her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” The new name had yet to grow on Pandora, “Sunny.” You… you scared me.” Like most of the girls physical traits, her voice had matured into a much deeper tone; the once quirky soprano had descended into a mezzo. Raptor would often joke that she would star looking and sounding like their “father.” How right was he? “So, I’m going to guess there hasn’t been a change outside, am I right?”
The air in the room just seemed ominous and that over bearing machine did nothing to dilute the feeling as all instruments and mechanics sat dead still. In any other room on the ship you could at least hear the gentle and continues hum of Terror’s engine. But here, quiet. It was this quiet that Pandora had come seeking shelter in this peace yet found nothing but bad drifting memories. “Have you heard from Raptor?”Why does one make art when they know it will never bloom? Why even try when your effort looks effortless and empty?
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Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2009 7:01 pm
How utterly unfortunate could he be. Raptor searched frantically in his mind for something that could free him and his crew from this rather hopeless predicament. For once, however, Lord O'Donnel had no tricks up his sleeve. "Dammit!" He shouted as he beat his fist against the the control panel. "How the hell did let this happen to us?" Against his hand beat against the control panel, harder this time than before. Raptor winced as his fingers made contact, gingerly drawing back the hand. He had injured himself, popping two of them out of place. Tears began to weld up in his eyes as he massage the fingers. It wasn't the pain in his limbs that had gotten him to break down, but the pain in his heart that he might very well had doomed Pandora and Summyr. Closing his eyes tight, he forced his fingers back int place, giving a short loud shrieking caw with each.
The raven brought up the display. Black. That all there was. Not even the familiar forms of constellation pierced past the solid blockade. "Marcus. I could really use your hand right now." A very sober sigh passed from the bird's beak as he finished with, "Too bad you're on there side." Why does one make art when they know it will never bloom? Why even try when your effort looks effortless and empty?
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Posted: Sat May 16, 2009 1:07 pm
The ferret made his way through space in the ill-gotten Wolfen. He'd left one of the flagships of the fleet at Alhena before they'd actually reached their destination, allowing him to move freely without being questioned. Questions weren't good for spies. Never being noticed was, that was at least one perk of his small stature.
As an asteroid loomed closer, he juked the stick control and the craft bobbed up out of the way clumsily. As he resettled himself after the turbulence settled, he was forced to face his piloting skills in the eye. To be blunt, they sucked. He'd never pass as an ace pilot with skills like this, but perhaps he could make it work for him in another way.
That thought occupied for him for some time longer, pondering different angles for his new persona's life story. He had the basics hammered out, and he preferred to let most of the details develop as he got to know his target. He found himself nearing his own destination, the aft side of the Wolfen Terror, where he knew the least experienced captains of the fleet were positioned. It was a small advantage, but every little bit helped, didn't it? He maneuvered more or less ably through the small cracks in the formation, certainly not enough room for a cruiser like the Wolfen Terror, but plenty for his one-man craft.
Luckily for him, the fleet was close enough to provide some very utilitarian cover for him to slip closer to the Wolfen Terror. Still, it didn't help that the stupid fleet had blocked the great majority of direct light from Solar, and that as a result, the radiant light levels were incredibly low. Sometimes, his job was just too easy. So, the ferret, his nickname was Blackfoot, was positioned on the belly of the great cruiser. He couldn't go for the landing bay. Not even these fleet captains were stupid enough not to notice something like that. But, he had been briefed in the ins and outs of the Wolfen Terror and he knew there was a secret hatch on the belly of the beast of a ship to let in a ship, for just such an emergency, should one of it's rightful crew be in his situation.
His claws tapped at controls and a cord snaked its way through space, a bundle of wires wrapped in flexible metal alloy, guided by micro thrusters, and connected to the port on the belly. He couldn't open the port, but he could get someone inside to. And how better to do that than to pose as a loyal admirer eager to help? After all, he had done just that to get into the computer systems on one of the flagships days earlier, having knocked out the personnel manning the stations with knockout gas. After implanting the details of the new identity and erasing all sign of his intrusion, he got out as quickly as he had gotten in. Blackfoot pulled the microphone on his headset towards his mouth and tapped a few buttons on the comm board. He was speaking on one of the Wolfen Terror's interior lines. The one that linked directly towards the bridge of the ship.
"Lord O'Donnell, my name is Emmanuel Reguard and I've come to help. I know of a way out of this situation, if you're willing to trust me to lead you out," he said in his new persona's personality. The identity of Emmanuel Reguard came with a set of behaviors and speaking inflections developed after days spent practicing and eating nothing but plain noodles. The particular speaking inflection was rife with uncertainty, innocence and just a dash of defiance to authority. Qualities he knew Raptor O'Donnell would identify with and almost take to heart. It would make his directive of getting close to the bird that much easier.
Blackfoot waited for the raven to either accept or tell him to bug off.
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Posted: Sat May 23, 2009 11:34 am
"Lord O'Donnell," the ave's professional name was slow to catch his attention as he continued to languish over his ill gotten situation. He heard the call and responded with a tilt of the head expecting the voice to be to be an address from an officer or pilot, pleading for him to surrender again. That was not the case. As he slowly drew more attention to the voice, words began to click. "Situation" and "trust" were the first two." Out" was the word that caught his ear and the phrase was complete.
Cocking an eye towards the com, Raptor made his way over to the panel and responded, "Who did you say you were?" The name Reguard was a new one to him. In the past he had known several names of a similar sound, but this name and voice was entirely new. "I've never heard of you before." But why would it matter if he knew or not? The goup was low on options and they needed a God send to get them out. Maybe this was him. Maybe this was a boarding party in disguise? No. Corneria wasn't one to use such undermined tactics like that. This was already too grand a setup to throw in a twist like that.
Ignoring the fact the the Wolfen ship was placed strategically near the emergency base, the raven clear the pilot and his craft to land. "You're clear to board. If you can get us out of here, I'd be in debt to you."
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Posted: Fri May 29, 2009 2:37 pm
Blackfoot waited nervously, his body shaking with the force of tenuous adrendaline. His entire mission at this point hinged on O'Donnell's reply. He'd put in so much work and made such a masterpiece of a new persona that he really would hate to see it go to waste, the same way a person in a marriage might hate to see their marriage fail.
When O'Donnell replied in the affirmative, Blackfoot's concerns were relieved. He started shaking with the relief of his tense muscles now and remainder of the adrenaline. The ferret tapped his comm controls and replied on his headset. "I'm Emmanuel Reguard. I was with the Cornerian Defense Force, and the moment I heard they were coming after you, I went AWOL and found my way here." He pulled the stick back and around, forcing the craft's nose to do a one-eighty and head for the back of the craft. Now that O'Donnell had accepted him, he could be freely seen entering the craft. The first phase of his plan had been completed.
A few minutes later, Blackfoot set down the craft gently in the Wolfen Terror's landing bay. Leaving his headset on, he hopped the distance to the floor once the pressure was established in the bay. He spoke into it as he walked toward the bay door. "Lord O'Donnell, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of me, but if you'd like to check my records, my number was 324-927-8126." Blackfoot grinned inwardly, knowing full well what the records would indicate, after all, he'd placed the information in the the CDF system himself.
Blackfoot stopped at the door, wondering if he should play it like he didn't know the ins and outs of the Wolfen Terror, being a newbie to the huge cruiser, or whether he should pretend to have gotten lucky in the interest of speeding things up. He decided to err on the side of caution and pretend he knew nothing about the ins and outs of the ship. "Say, Lord O'Donnell, would you mind guiding me to the bridge?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 9:47 am
O'Donnell wasted no time in punching in the record key to his computer. The last thing he wanted to do was lead a fake up through the halls of his ship right into the bridge. How unfortunate would it be if, in his own folly, he allowed an intruder inside under the guise of a helping hand. Minding only to the screen in front of him, he began relaying the directions. " When you get out the doorway, hang left and walk around that first corner. When-"
There was a break in speech. The CDF central database had come up on his screen and began to frantically search for the specified file Blackfoot had handed him. Within moments it was being displayed across the Terror's HUD. Everything from the day enlisted to training dates, service records and AWOL accounts. Raptor eyes scanned over the text carefully, looking for breaks in the file. He found at least several, but that was a given considering every fill ever placed in that system had them. "You should see the elevator. Take it to level 4; not 5." The ave began to catch his breath. It looked like the ferret was alright after all. His record was clean. His piloting skills were nothing that special, but he had a fairly clean record.
Raptor scanned through the information a second time. Wolf always told him to check himself. His exact words had been Never leave lose ends unchecked, and for him, his father's words were law. Raptor brought up the conduct report. What he found unsettled him. "He's too clean." Squeaky clean would not have been the proper term; there were points where orders were disobeyed, fights were started, and the usual shenanigan acts he knew were a part of the fighter experience, but his record just didn't have enough accounts of drastic behavior to line up fully with his reasons for going AWOL. "So," he began again, "why do you want to help me?"
There were six minutes left for him to end this four year chase peacefully. That word "peacefully" just didn't taste well in his mouth. He didn't know why; it just might have been his nature. But with each passing second, the Wolfen Terror's weapon control console was beginning to look real friendly. If he played his card right, he'd be able to force a whole through the decaying line and warp their tails out of there, but then he'd really have some running to do. Even as the calm calculating, Lord O'Donnell, his over developed trigger finger was starting to nag at him. Even the bladed laser pistol at his side began to feel heavy on his thigh. This Emmanuel character was someone who he had to trust, but did not want to. Well, technically, he didn't have to trust him. Getting rid of him would be as easy as holding the barrel even with the door and waiting for the Ferret to walk through the sliding doors.
Raptor forced the idea from his head. He was beginning to feel as if he had lost it. What kind of idea was that, shooting a possible allie without so much as a warning? Wolf taught him more respect than that. The raven walked to the captains seat and slumped into it's cold metal form. He ran a hand through his head father and sighed. "I'm going to lose it one of these days."
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 1:24 pm
((Great roleplaying, boss. I like it.))
Blackfoot stopped at the question. Not because the question was disarming, but because one of his past aliases was having his say about it.
"Of course he doubts you, you idiot. You're practically begging to be exposed! You left an opening for doubt by just asking him to check your records. What kind of ave with a past to hide shows it to just anyone?" a voice in the back of Blackfoot's head was saying.
He could just see his alternate personality's crossed arms as Blackfoot held his face in his paw, and continued to shun himself. He could just see Elijah as a little devil on one shoulder, while a little angel appeared on the other, his name Lazarus.
"Don't panic," the little ferret angel told him. "Just think. You can surely figure a way out with your words, they're your tools, use them." He was calm and sage, a great contrast to Elijah's raging, fuming state.
By now, he had made it to the elevator, but hadn't gone in. He had to make something up to cover over his infirmities. But on the spot lying wasn't his strong suit. True, he had to lie often in his job of spying, but he had never been able to just turn on the lies. He had to find something he could add on to.
He struggled to grasp at something that would provide a satisfactory response. The question was not a simple one, given his backstory on his newest identity. But he remembered his favorite aspect of it, and that was the 'fact' of Emmanuel's shady parentage.
"Good, good. Now use that to your advantage." Lazarus said, smiling serenely. Elijah frowned. "Just don't get caught, you moron."
Blackfoot nodded at nothing, and then spoke into the mic. "Well, Mr. O'Donnell, it's a long story, but if you must know, I will put it in the simplest terms I know how," he began, letting the words flow out, without checking them. "My parents weren't nice to me, so I ran away the first chance I got. I got into aviation school as a way to provide for myself. While there, I heard many stories about you, and your rival Marcus. Never one to back the obvious winner, I started rooting for you. While in the CDF, which I also joined a means to an end," he continued, smiling to himself at how well the lie was going. "I heard you were around, I started snooping, and I found out exactly what you were accused of. I didn't like it: it stank, so to speak so I snuck around to find out more. Basically, I had hoped to help you get out of trouble long enough to learn the true story for myself."
He waited for that to sink in and scanned over it in his memory for an obvious holes so far. He couldn't see any, but that didn't mean were none. He decided to sum up, since maybe that would reinforce the lie. "Essentially, I identify, I want to help, and I want the truth. That about sum it up?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 7:45 am
His parents. That line had the ave hooked from the start of the story, and as Emanuel continued to explain his actions, Raptor felt himself begin to relax. He could relate to having parents who were not to fond of him. Flashes of his own parents blip in his mind. The memory of his mother and father standing at the opening of the trash terminal, bathed in the red light of the release warning; their stern emotionless faces tried to push past his firm mental block of them. "I guess all unwanted children end up in the military, huh?" he mumbled over the com, really only meaning to keep his words in his own mind.
Snapping back to the situation at hand, Raptor opened up a new channel to the Pandora's Box. "Pandora, Red, get to the elevator and wait for me to tell you what the plan is. We've a new guest on board, so you might hear something new."
Pandora's entire head shoot to the attention of the com before Raptor's voice had even begun to pour through it, the static in the system alerting her sensitive ears. "Raptor?" she called out, alerting Red of intercom. The two held their breath in anticipation for his instructions. Literally. When they did come, they found some relief in the strong voice. He sounded confident, and that was enough to raise their spirits enough to grasp hope. The two made one quick glance at each other before standing to make their way to the elevator as instructed.
The raven quickly changed channels again to speak with Emanuel, "Alright, Blackfoot, we've got three minutes, so if you are going to tell me your plan, everyone on board would probably appreciate it if you spat it, now." There was a half serious tone in the ave's voice. Typical mercenary humor, not too much different than military chaff if but a little darker in nature. After all, Raptor was still Lord O'Donnell.
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Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 1:07 pm
Blackfoot's eyes shot open as a devilish grin spread across his face. Part of him couldn't believe it, part of him was simply overjoyed that his ploy had worked!
Elijah was the part that didn't believe it. "Hmph," he mumbled. "Too easy. You're walking into a trap, I tell ya."
Lazarus, by comparison, was joyous at Blackfoot's success. He had done something right! "Good, Blackfoot. Now get onto what you promised, help them get out of their jam and I know they'll just fall into your arms!"
Blackfoot unconsciously nodded at the command from Raptor O'Donnell. One paw on the mic, to ensure everyone heard him clearly, Blackfoot took a second to remember his plan, if he got this far. That done, he nodded again, more to himself than anything, and just threw his plan out there.
"Okay, Wolfen Terror, listen up, I can only say this once. You're surrounded on all sides by Cornerian Defense Ships, and it looks like there's no way out, but that's exactly why they chose this formation, to intimidate you. What they didn't expect was that you would call their bluff. Their afraid to reveal that they're not willing to fight, because of the strife on Corneria. The people of Corneria are tired of being dragged into every little dispute the CDF thinks it has to stick its nose in, so they have to tread lightly so as not to lose favor with the public. So, you just have to intimidate them right back."
By now Blackfoot had taken the elevator and the doors opened up to the bridge. He stepped out onto the bridge to join Raptor, standing by his side. He nodded to Lord O'Donnell, he wanted to make the appearance correct, so he would have to go all out and really greet Raptor later, but he needed to devote his attention to the task at hand. He continued the speech over the mic so that the others aboard could hear, whoever they were. "That said, the way to do that is to make it seem as if you're ready to smash your way through the armada. Prepare the engines for full thrust forward, they'll pick it up on their sensors and I guarantee you their admiral will withdraw."
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2009 10:25 am
Raptor thought on the concept for a few moments. Corneria would want itself to be seen in a war mongering light, at least, not until they had their fleet of super soldiers prepped and ready. Still, their was one gaping whole in the plan. Even if the Cornerian forces don't attack, that still left the mercenaries who were left. Raptor knew most of them wouldn't just give up a bounty like that. "Good plan," he finally stated, taking the helm of Dreadnought ship and simultaneously making warp coordinates while manually steering the ship into position, something he picked up from Pandora. "That still only solves half of our problem." The bird looked over his shoulder to give the new Star Wolf member one of his classic wry smirks. "But, I'm sure we can handle the small fry when they come, eh?"
The engines lite, and the Wolfen Terror began it's beeline for unbroken side of the Planet wall. The disciplined Cornerian forces and their mother ship. Tapping the com, the raven hailed the command ship directly in front of him. "You might want to move," Raptor quipped merrily." The aft engines were flaring now, and deep within the belly of the ship, the warp drive was beginning to wind up for the "jump."
"You- you wouldn't-" a voice shrieked frantically through the speakers.
"Really now? Wouldn't I?"
A moment passed. Silence. Raptor Held his breath.
The Wall began to move.
With a giant sigh of relief, Raptor lifted his hand and held it above the warp in anticipation for the blue light signaling it's readiness. But instead of a blue light, he was blinded by red one. Following soon after were several warning sirens. Raptor's eyes shot for the display. The text that crossed his eyes made his heart sink. "WARP PATH NOT CLEAR! METEOR SHOWER BLOCKING PATH!" The message scrolled over and over, and the rave seemed caught in its letters. "After all that..." he began to say, but the hull of the ship began to rock violently. The Cornerian forces had set up behind them and were now trying to force them to cooperate, just as they had promised. "Tch, what bad luck."
Things looked grim for the Star Wolf team. They were out manned,out gunned and just plain out matched. They could fight. They might even be able to win. The old Star Teams fought under similar conditions. It was still suicidal. What would they do?
They would have to do anything. A hail of laser fire rained down in front of the Cornerian fleet. From their twelve, a swarm of heavy fighter vessels swooped down making the Cornerian ranks scatter for their lives. Before anyone one ship could recover to engage, a second wave of ships made their own pass. The first grouping of Ships formed up on the Wolfen Terror. Three ships took point in front of the Flagship ship; two "A" Model Wolfens and a Wolfen II. Raptor nearly flipped when he saw them but managed to keep his calm. "How retro."
"Shut it, bird," a new, deep voice snarled over the com. "I'm Blear from the Alhena Defence Squadron. If you don't want your wings clipped, bird, I'd suggest you let us escort you to Alhena. Refuse, and we'll just leave you die right now. What do you say?"
"I don't have a choice."
So while the Cornerian fighters dealt with the new unknown pest, the Star Wolf team was whisked to the safety of the large space station, Alhena. So what awaited them there?
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 4:11 pm
 Abourd the Agamemnon, the flag ship that was to head the small skirmish against the Star Wolf team, chaos ensued. On all levels, feet, fur, feathers and fins flew up and down the hallways, corridors, and crew members scurried to and fro for their battle stations. The ships haul rocked violently as bombs exploded within close proximity; right next to the launch battery to be exact. Whoever had interrupted what was supposed to be a foolproof capture of the fugitive Star team did not want the ship releasing fresh troops into the fray which was frustrating to the everyone on board and in space.
In the bridge, the Captain tipped his hat, below his left eye, a habit he had gained during the last Great Battle between Venom and Corneria. His mind was struggling with the situation: how to turn it around? how to get back in the game? ho to capture Star Wolf. He was failing. Slamming his hand against the panel at hand, he began blowing his current headache out on the crew. "Where the hell did these additional ships come from! Are... are they Venom ships?" The words seem to set off a spark in his eyes. His body jumped with excitement as the familiar recoil of his ships main turrets began to rock the flagship.
"No sir," one of the panel workers responded. "These ships aren't registedred by Venom nor are they in Venom's service record."
"Then where?"
While the question remained unanswered, the chaos outside continued. The fighters, mainly dry rookies, were being over taken at an alarming rate. As for the mystery fighter pilots, they fought like seasoned veterans.
Where had the Wolfen Terror gone of to? It was now docked within the large bay of Alhena. It had been rather forcefully led there by the Alhena Defense Squadron. Bear, a buff and foreboding white grizzly, stood at the connector bridge extended to the side of the large ship waiting for Raptor and crew to make their way to the door where a foot escort was waiting. Raptor walked off the walkway armed to the teeth; meaning he brought both his blaster and beam sword handle. Bear gave a glance at the weapons and then to Raptor who meet him with a piercing glare. Sweat already starting to show on his brow. Apparently, Raptor's reputation preeceeded him. "L-look, bird, you're wanted by the Boss. So follow me." The large beast of a fur turned his back, trying to hide his sigh of relief. Glancing back over his shoulder, Bear looked upon the raven one more time, but quickly looked away again and began to make way to where ever it was they were going.
"What was that about?" Red slipped to Pandora.
"It's... a guy thing. Territory and threat," Pandora shrugged following after Bear and Raptor. Oh, and welcome to the team Blackfoot," she added without looking at the ferret.
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