Gren Sairdonga

Gren watched as the hangar bays grew larger. His grip on the overhead guide rail tightening. Centerpoint really was gargantum. The Alliance General had no real idea how many friendly and enemy troops were inside battling away but the companies he brought would surely bolster the numbers. Especially with all their survival gear. As their transport. The lead in their convoy finally entered the hangar bay Gren swore. Corpses were lying at intervals. It looked like the Arach'tar had put up a fight at the bulkheads that led further into the station. Effectiveely creating a bottleneck that had by all appearances been costly to break. As the transport set down with a muffled clunk. Its clearing laser cannons swivelling too and fro, searching for any enemy Gren made final checks on his life support systems and suit integrity. Nodding once to the Alliance Field Commander who had come to stand besides him they lowered the boarding, or in this case exiting ramp. He stepped forward as it opened smoothly. It was an old tradition for the leader to be first down and last out. Gren had no real idea where it came from nor did he care. It suited him fine. As he moved down the ramp, his sensory equipment, inbuilt into the suit scanning for any living presence. Nothing close though their were life signs further along the main corridor leading from the hangar. Life and fighting. Gren had no need of enhancing equipment to hear the fighting. Blaster shots and the screech of metal on metal rang out throughout the hangar. Using his datapad to tap into his shuttles commincations array Gren recorded two messages. One was sent to Admiral Starlisk. An update. IT said nothing more then the troops had landed in the station and were begining their advance. The second was to any and all Alliance soldiers within the station. Help was here with survival gear and medical supplies. With that Gren signalled the Commander to begin pushing forward. The man knew the route as well as Gren did. Leading a second team Gren went out one of the other corridors. It wasn't the best idea to split their forces. But with one team securing the hangar. Another taking the main corridor to the battle. Gren's team would secure a flank. The other flank being occupied by Imperial troops. Suppressing a grin as battle fervour washed over him Gren stayed clear headed. he couldn't let his sense go. He didn't just fight. He led.

From the cockpit of the Assualt transports Gren watched Centerpoint grow bigger. Few believed the size of the space statiom until they saw it. Gren had been one of them. Unknowing of the reality of this most ancient of weapons. The reasearch he had done and the tactical data he was reading over nowe didn't give him much confidence. Kilometers of corridor, rooms and chokepoints. Followed by the chamber of the glowpoint itself. Large enough for a small city. "Ho for the day combat was simply taking up a blaster or yoke and shooting up your enemy. These days its all about who has the biggest piece of metal that blows the most up." Turning he looked at the Cmdr of the troops he was taking in. Toprawan. Like him. It seemed with word of his exploits many Toprawans, some Antarian Rangers like he had been, had rushed to join the Alliance. "Too true Lt Colonel. Too true. We must adjust to it though." "Sir thirty seconds till ramps down!" One of the pilots yelled back to him. Looking up Gren saw an E-Wing vapourising one of those Arach'tar fighters that had been about to make a run on the transports. From where they were he could see the hangar they were going for, even the flash of laser fire inside it. "Alright power up the clearing cannons. As soon as we land clear that hangar of anything not organic and anything not friendly. I'll be at the rear ramp. Soon as we hit the deck I want it down and cover going out." Nodding one last time to the pilots and the other officer he made his way to the rear door. Making final checks on his weapons and armour. They had given him one of the ion blasters. Specially designed for this war, but Gren also had his own blaster pistols. Just in case.

Shrugging his shoulders when permission was granted Gren boarded the lead shuttle. Nodding to the Commander of the Strike Team, an young Toprawan, Gren had been surprised when he saw the man. He had recognised him from home. Gren switched to the Company wide frequency. "Alright lads listen up. We will be making an hostile entry into Centerpoint. Our mission is to secure an LZ. And get medical and survival gear through to the troops already onstation. Once we have evaced as many of the wounded and properly equiped those still able to fight we'll push these rusty can openers back to whatever hole they come from. Watch your mates. Don't wander and shoot anything mechanical that moves too much." Nodding once again to the Commander who got on the line and began giving his more formal more complete briefing Gren got onto the main starfighter frequency. "I need a four squadron escort. From the Justiciar to Centerpoint station. It'll be dangerous and chances of getting attacked are something well over one hundred percent. Who wants in?" It took about three seconds for names to come in. Sentinel. Viper. Hellfire. Corellian Vengance. Fitting. His own wing volunteered for a job that would likely leave them well behind enemy lines, escorting dead and wounded instead of in the real fight. But it was still important. Still a vital part of the battle that needed to be done. And it would likely see mroe action then the real fight if only because the enemy would see shuttles and jump on them. Bracing himself as the shuttles shuddered into movement he watched as they flew out of the hangar and into the chaos of battle. Four squadrons of battleworn E-Wings forming up around them escorting them into the very heart of the chaos.

Gren was still waiting for an answer when the question got changed completely. Without any seeming hit or attack upon it. Centerpoint's surface seemed to erupt in many little explosions. Balls of fire, quickly extingiushed by the vacuum of space. Swearing Gren pulled his fighter around. If he was going to board now he'd need his heavy combat suit. Completely airtight with a vacuum survival rating of several hours. He would need it, not for the vacuum of space. But with whatever just happened who knew what atmospheric conditions would be like within the battletorn corridors of Centerpoint. "Sentinel One this is Viper One. Bombers report all Anti Starfighter Frigates disabled or destroyed." With a moment given to a sigh of relief Gren snapped to work. "All bombers are to concentrate firepower on the largest enemy cruisers and battleships. Engines then bridge. Starfighters are to spread out and stamp on the enemy fighters and provide annoyance assualt on enemy ships." With that Gren arrowed straight towards the Justiciar, he had a bunk there. Stored their was also some Antarian Heavy Battle Armour. What he could achieve in the cockpit of a starfighter was done. Now the battle was with blaster rifle and sword. Sending a quick order to the Justicar no sooner had Gren landed then a flight of Assault Shuttles were being loaded with troops. They were equiped with survival equipment designed for Station fighting. Where an bad explosion could see men and air vented into the vacuum of space. It would work to protect them just as well from fire Gren supposed, providing oxygen and protecting from anything but major heat. His armour and weapons brought to him by an sweaty ensign Gren was ready. Quickly changing into his armour Gren got on the comm to Admiral Starlisk. "Admiral. Whatever just happened on Centerpoint has probably left hundreds of our troops in jeopardy. Requesting permission to lead a team aboard to evac anyone ilequipped and continue the battle."

The starfighter battle was at a peak. THousands of starfighters already dead. Thousands engulfed in massive dogfights. Amongst the most heated of them. In a now rather large gap battled Gren. "Punch it Three. Four more marks attempting to break into the heav line." "I'm on them boss. Sentinel's Seven and eight on me we're taking them." Performin g a barrelroll to bring him out from under the guns of a Aratch'tar pilot Gren sluiced around in a roll that brought his own forward. Letting forth a trio of laser fire that burned through the cockpit and part of the left wing of the craft. "Lead! The Arach'tar hole is broken! We have a clear uninterupted flightpath through to the station!" At Colan's voice Gren couldn't help but grin. They'd done it. They had broken the enemy fleet. Switching to a channel that took him straight to Onderin Gren thumbed his fighter around to take him clear of the rolling maul. "Admiral. We've made a hole big enough to slip all the transports through. Requesting permission to go in with one of the assualt waves?"

"Seven, eight I'm on him bank port on my mark!" "I can't shake hi-" "Two full squads of tin heads forming up to try and break the right flank. Deep Flight. Dark Water on me lets break that party." "One the Left flank is taking casualties! A damn anti-fighter frigate advanced into contact." "Oop there it goes one. Looks like we owe those Bs and As a beer when we get out of here." "-vy casual- comms are -lf jam- bu- we ma- to -unch -ole th-gh -e Ar-ar li-s. Requ- -port" "Three marks at two ten. I need back-up" "Two on me two one me I need helarghhhh!" "Threes gone they just blew thred outta space holy shi-" "Twelve watch your flight path. Stay away from clear space and those frigates." Throughout the chaos of battle Gren flew. Where the fighting was worst he tended to thrive. It was the man he was. Many soldiers said one was closest to life when vying with death. But it wasn't for that that Gren flew into the hottest dogfights in battle. It wasn't that he sought glory, or was suicidal either. It was his men. Gren sought to protrct as many of his men as possible. Barrelrolling hard starboard Gren barely avoided the laser blasts from the pursuing Arach'tar fighter. Suppressing a grin he flicked his etheric rudder hard, cutting throttle to swing the fighter in a near flat spin, as it spun around in a full sixty four hundred mil rotation he fired one salvo from his triple lasers. Blasting the cockpit off the pursuing fighter. As he came back around on his original heading he heeled hard starboard and punched back to full throttle. Regaining control and immediately tailing another Arach'tar fighter for a few moments before shredding it too. "Gren we have a gap! Forard's squadron broke through but they're in hot soup." Looping his fighter around he began snapping out orders as soon as he located the hole. "All fighters hit the gap, lets make it big. K-Wings adavance and begin your runs. B-Wings keep any AS frigates away from it. A-Wings break through and begin through and cause chaos. X and E will create a rolling dogfight throughout the area and provide cover for the bombers and transports." Suiting action to word Gren cut a path straight through to the hole in the enemy line, restraining a whoop of joy. This was it. This was the begining of the end of the Arach'tar.

"As ordered sir." Gren said. Throwing a quick boxer he turned and ran off the bridge. Eager to get back to his fighter. Within minutes he was blasting out of the hangar. Calmly he adjusted the E-Wings inertia compensator, power distribution and his seats reclination to his preference. Then activating his comm he began. "Admiral. I'm on station awaiting orders." Switching to his squadrons channel he called out orders. "Sentinel's form up on me. What have we got." For half a second he flew blind then his people reported in. "Welcome back Gren. What we got is one massive furball. With us restricted to the outer limits cause they got their damned AS-Frigates running around. They're dieing though. Soon we'll be able to expand into the rest of hte battlespace." Colan's voice crackled through the comm. AS-Frigates... Anti-Starfighter Frigates... They tended to be an issue. But they weren't infalliable. Switching to a fleet wide channel he rattled out a series of orders that should hasten the defeat of the AS-Frigates. "Alright I need all the B-Wings to from up well back. Your going to synch your telemetry with A-Wings who will fly in close enough to the AS-Frigates to get a lock then get the hell out of dodge. The B-Wings will fire from the safety of the rear covered by X-Wings. E-Wings. Reform as best you can and create a rolling furball accross the entirety of the forward battlespace. Create as much confusion and chaos as possible. K-Wings. Hold for now. Once we have some holes in their line punch through and begin making runs against anything big enough to trade shots with MC-90A. Concentrate on engines and shields. These rusty droids are going down today. Out." Switching to the Joint Fleets frequency he rehashed what he'd just ordered his own troops to do. Only he made it a suggestion. Then back to his squadrons frequency he kept an ear on the fleetwide. If anything new occured he needed to know. Then matching action to words he dove into a dogfight spanning maybe three hundred fighters. Time to fly fast and shoot straight. He thought as his triple lasers shredded an Arach'tar fighter.

Emerging from hyperspace into the midst of a battle can be at best described as disorienting. If unlucky it was sucidal as you could arrive within an enemy formation or in the case of starfighters. Under the guns of an anti-starfighter ship or worse. Luckily Gren and his temporary squadron had avoided that fate. Especailly because of who they escorted. "Alright lads. Find Colonel Colan Dasinoa. He's in charge of Sentinel Squadron. I have some things to do then I'll be right along. With a sense of urgency now men." As they broke ranks and slashed into the battle Gren heeled over. Making his way behind the lambda shuttle he landed smoothly in the hangar bay. All signs of his previous disorientation gone. Hopping out of the fighter he made his way over to Admiral Starlisk. Following alon in his footsteps as they made their way to the bridge. In the brief gap between the request for information and the actual giving of information Gren struck. "Two things boss. First do you really trust the Sith and some bounty hunters if they manage to secure control of centerpoint to not do worse then has already been done with it? Or strike at us? Personally I believe the galaxy is better off with Centerpoint destroyed. And second where do you want me in this mixer?"

(That being the case and me not being sure how active Cadio is right now...) With no reply from the Vice-Admiral Gren had frowned. That usually wasn't a good sign. Then ordered a number of fighter groups to jump in and support the new arrivals. Moving to do so himself. After a few brief skirimishs something changed. They'd won. Time to pull out, repair, recruit and bury the dead. Before something else happens. With the Arach'tar fleet breaking and attempting to flee Gren knew it was done. The Imperial and Alliance fleets were tearing their now retreating hips to shred. Mop up. With the Imperial fleet already beginning to pull out of the system the Alliance needed to move too. If the Arach'tar had a reinforcement group en route the enemy wouldn't know the battle was over till they kicked it off again. "All ships this is General Sairdonga. Halt Pursuit. No need to bite at the heels of the retreating wolf. Launch recovery craft and begin casevac. Fighters return to your carriers. If your carrier doesn't exist anymore Wing Leaders find a place for them on another ship. No one leaves till we're all done troops. Lets hurry." Suiting action to words Gren heeled his fighter around in a slow arc. Coming around and shooting off to the Mon Cal Cruiser Justiciar. Dodgining around outgoing recovery craft to get to the main hangars. A few minutes later he was landed in the hangar bay. With fighters landing all around him. Far fewer then should have returned home. Most that did weren't even from the Justiciar Originally. As the seal on his cockpit slowly opened Gren removed his helmet. Rubbing a hand through sweat soaked hair. I survived. Once again. Does that make me good... Or just lucky? Taking a breath Gren spent a few moments reflecting on the battle. The vast number of casualties taken. Easily the most costly battle Gren had ever been involved in. Perhaps the most costly battle the Alliance had ever had. Vaulting out of his seat and onto the deck he landed in a half crouch. Still reflecting even as fighters stopped streaming in and recovery shuttles began returning. "Col." He yelled, looking for his Second In Charge. "Sir." The officer called. Appearing from a knot of medics hauling pilots who'd ejected off a recovery shuttle. Hopefully most would survive. But even short periods in the freezing temperature of space not to mention the amount of debris and laser fire flying around would see that not too many pilots made it out. "Your in charge down here. Inform me when the recovery is done. Also get the reports from the other ships. After that I want a CEV. Get someone else to do it. Hop too it Colonel." With a tired and somewhat forced grin Gren turned away and made his way to the bridge. Going slowly. Stopping to talk many of the soldiers bustling around him. Their were so many wounded that they couldn't all fit in the med bays. Many were lying outside in the corridors. Awaiting treatment or being treated. To them he gave reassurance. Once he got to the bridge he found the old Mon Cal Captain waiting for him. "I was about to send someone to find you General. The recovery is complete. The fleet is formed up and ready to jump." Gren nodded. He hadn't realised he'd spent that much time making his way up here. But it mattered little. All he'd have done is sit around waiting for reports. "Alright. Give the order. All ships are to break formation. Form into battlegroups by damage severity. Make sure their are some lighlty damaged ships in each group. Then jump to their first hyperpoint. After that the badly damaged ships will be escorted to shipyards to be fixed. The lightly damaged ships will move to Gala. Making sure we follow tracking SOPs with hull clearances in deep space." The next half hour was given over to sorting ships into groups and sending them off. Finally only one group remained in system. "Alright. Order the group to jump. But hold back jumping for a minute. Conduct a thorough scan of the system. Now that its empty of ships we might pick something up we missed. Also send a comm to HQ. Inform them of our victory and request further orders for the securing of Gromas. We aren't sticking around here. But we can come back." Two minutes later Gren sighed with relief as the last Alliance ship in orbit over Gromas jumped into hyperspace. Leaving behind a vast field of battle debris and corpses.

In the midst of a dogfight Gren's mind was detached. He was within the void. All his emotions and passions fed into a flame that engulfed thought. Freeing his body to fly and fight as few, even the very best of the Jedi and Sith could, whilst leaving his mind free to listen and think. And so he did. A barrel roll brought the fighter away from the guns of an enemy pilot. Good pilot. Not as good as the other one but still good. Cross-fire from Sentinels Five and Four incinerated him before he could cause further harm. The loss of their Elite Squadron and its Leader. Gren assumed his equal in their ranks had demoralised them the same way his loss would have for the Alliance Mostly to the mass of battle reports flooding in from pilots scattered across the battlespace, his own view of the center and his own good ability to read the flow and shift of battles, though unlike many his ability came from long years of experience, not some mystical force. Gren deduced that this one was nearly done. According to the few reports coming off the Arach'tar flagship the Imperial and Alliance infantry supporting the Jedi and Sith were pushing back the enemy. Vaguely his mind saw an enemy fighter, falling away, half incinerated. Its wingmate desperately maneuvering to avoid a similar fate. And Gren could see for himself that the center was firmly the Alliances. Though they had taken heavy casualties they had smashed the enemy formation and fighting ability and were steadily pushing them back. The mighty Mon Calamari cruisers that had closed to point blank and engaged were still rumbling forwards.The ones that were still able to. Their turbolasers lighting up space. The wingmate never escaped. A blast caught it straight in between the engine shafts. It exploded in a spectacular expanding ball of fire, gas and debris. In the cockpit of the Ranger's Eye. Surrounded by his fellow pilots Gren couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief. Surprise mingled with shock, sadness too. Sadness at all the death and waste. Good men and women died here. Humans, Twi'leks, Mon Calamari, Quarren, Sullustans, Wookiees, Bothans, hundreds of species representing the peoples of the Galaxy. Hell even Imperials. Virtually a species to themselves as far as being like the rest of humankind went. Fourteen proton torpedoes smashed the shields of an Arach'tar Capital Ship. Their firers arced away before they could be effectively targeted and annihilated. A few moments later directed fire from an Star Defender concentrated on the weakened shields. Taking them down and incinerating the bridge underneath. That one was doomed. Switching channels to one used by Alliance Command he heard the tale end of the last transmission. Something about a quarantine and what really caught Gren's attention news that indicated Jedi Damon was injured. Or infected by this virus. From the little he'd heard it seems Vice-Admiral Sikaot was in charge. Admiral Starlisk having been killed through the force. A large group of enemy bombers harrying an Imp Star Destroyer. One of the newer models Gren didn't know much about. They were close to achieving a mobility kill that would end up in the sun or the asteroid field. Either meant death for the ISD. Like a pack of wolves on their exhausted prey the Sentinel's leapt. Tearing through the enemy ranks with deadly efficiency. Gren had known Cadio for years. They had both joined around the same time, according to the records Gren had been a little earlier. They had both proceeded in lockstep rank by rank. Cadio had moved more into the Research, Theory and Strategic wings of Leadership whilst Gren had always been heavily involved in the Combat and Tactical Arms of it. In fact up until his disappearance which he still knew little of it had been possible he would take the post Cadio now occupied. They had been in competition for it and Gren had been more popular and well known to both the Alliance and outsiders. Judging from the records Gren had dug up on the Alliance. Better him then me. he thought to himself. I can barely remember my name right now much less all their is needed in a Command position like that. He was surprised he had been allowed to keep his rank. Though he supposed it would have caused a great deal of trouble if they had stripped him of it. Space around them was clear. Enemy fighters were now avoiding them. Not that it helped. Their E-Wings were specially modified. They were the fastest craft involved in the battle. Faster even then the newer model A-Wings and Tie Defenders. More powerful too. Angling for the largest furball he could see he evened his shields out front and rear. A ping sounded in the back of Gren's head. That name still rung bells all his searching had failed to answer. Since being cut off from the force Gren could remember far less of his past. Though some things came back clearer then the present. Shaking his head clear he concentrated on what he had to do. The boarding ships had successfully got on board the enemy Command ship. Their payloads even now ripping havoc throughout the enemy. Unknowing of the true danger poised. "Cadio. Fighter space is looking fairly clear. Not much more good I can do around here. Orders old boy?"

Gren watched the field of red turbolaser fire, listening to the reports. When they were finished he grinned. No casualties yet! Not even the new guy. Suddenly his grin faded. On the edge of the killing ground a lone fighter had just slipped into a carcass of a cruiser of some sort, half a second later a pair of torpedoes flashed after it. Swearing he snapped out some orders. "Sentinels. On me. Full throttle. Prep all weapons. Heading is my vector. Expect company." Punching his fighter to full throttle he flew straight to the opposite end of the destroyed cruiser. He had two thoughts about the outcome. They would come around the wreckage to find an ambush waiting for them. The enemy weren't dumb. And according to his pilots only five of their fighters had been destroyed. Leaving at least seven including his mark as a viable threat. Decent odds. He thought to himself. We've taken worse odds before and even the new guy is flying alright by the looks of it. Flying wide around the hull Gren's grin returned. He'd caught them with their pants down trying to reform. "All fighters engage! Pick your targets and go!" He yelled over the comm as he targeted the leader. Like the crack team they obviously were the enemy responded instantly. Breaking formation, but it was too late. The carcass of the cruiser had shielded the Sentinels long enough. They were well within range. A wave of unanswered torpedoes and lasers flashed through space. Instantly vaporising several four fighters. Gren fired a triple burst point blank on his desperately maneuvering opponent. He had a little bit of an idea how he lost the torpedoes but he wouldn't avoid lasers. The first trio struck. Knocking down the shields. The second trio also struck. A surgical strike. Wiping out the cockpit. The fighter flew on for a few hundred meters before rolling and shredding itself on flying shrapnel. The last two enemy broke and ran. Sentinels in hot pursuit. Calling them back they reformed and arced up and around, heading towards the embattled Mon Cal cruisers, though now it appeared their side was gaining the upper hand by leaps and bounds. "Thanks for the fire support, Justiciar. Crusader launch the commandos for the enemy command ship. Sentinels Form up on the transports. Any spare squadrons defend the transports!" Seven transports appeared from the hangars of the Crusader. Each carrying a fifty men. Three companies of Commandos plus a special unit of Elite Alliance soldiers personally trained by Gren. The task force was small. By all appearances too small to tackle such a large opponent. But they had a special mission. ((Any Alliance or Jedi PCs feel free to tag along.))

Gren watched in amazement as his opponent turned tail and began attacking his pilots as they chased the rest of the enemy squadron. Fool. Though Gren as the three squadrons that he'd left to protect the transports leapt forward and smashed into the enemy pilots. Killing several. A fierce dogfight breaking out with the rest. Slipping neatly onto the enemies tail Gren kept pace with ease. Though no easy shots presented themselves Gren didn't have too much trouble staying on his tail. Switching to torpedoes he paired them up and centered the crosshairs. Immediately Clinga began giving him a tone. But then Gren swore as the unknown pilot pulled in neatly onto Sentinel Fives tail. Too close for him to shoot without risking hitting his own man. "I'm on him I'm on him. Sentinel Five. Break Starboard on my mark." Pulling back a little Gren checked his sensors quickly looking for a way around the problem. That close to Five he couldn't shoot. But neither could machine-man. Suddenly the enemy broke hard port. Snapping to action instantly Gren yelled into his comm. "Justiciar. Priority fire redirect. On my telemetry transmitting now. Twenty seconds of fire as soon as telemetry is received." Cutting his engines and hitting the rudder he spun the nose of the fighter around onto the same heading and the enemy. Getting his target lock back almost instantly Gren transmitted it. His thrusters still cut he fired a pair of torpedoes on the fighters tail. Just as space turned red with the Justiciar's blanket fire. Firing another pair of torpedoes Gren pulled around. Not entering the kill zone. "Sentinel's reform on me. Report in by the numbers." (3)

Gren swore as the enemy fighter pulled in neatly behind him whilst he was still trying to turn. Not only were their craft damned maneuverable but they were also fast with powerful weapons and judging by this one they had skilled pilots. Taking a millisecond to inspect his sensors he swore again. Other then this machine boy the entire squadron was ignoring his pilots and engaging the transports. Big mistake. Leaving us behind you. Except for the one dogging my ion trail. What'd I do kill his machine father or something? His grimace turned into a grin. A challenge! Maybe this fella reckons by killing me he'll break our spirit. Even with laser blasts hammering his rear shields Gren couldn't help but grin. Flipping his fighter into a starboard barrel roll to avoid the laser fire Gren snapped out some orders. "Sentinels, Tusken Sun. Get back to the transports. I'll handle this one." He spoke just in time. A pair of Sentinel's had been about to attempt to shoot him off Gren's tail. Another blast hit his rear shields. Now Clinga started screaming. Warning Gren that one more direct hit to his rear shields would knock them down. Cutting his maneuver short so that he was flying the same angle as his opponent he punched on the brakes and hit full reverse. Hitting the etheric rudder hard as he twisted the yoke Gren put the fighter into a controlled flatspin. If you could really call any flatspin controlled. For a moment his fighter almost screamed as the etheric rudder was pushed near to its limit. But Gren hadn't put himself in debt for the rest of his natural life to create a flawed fighter. Unique in her abilities as an E-Wing she pulled the maneuver off brilliantly. But then pushed into the back of his seat he hit the throttle back to full and compensated for his maneuver as he linked all three of his lasers. Still flying the same angle as his opponent he managed a quick blast in the second or so they were once again head to head before pulling past. This time he cut his throttle instantly, flying on momentum so that he wouldn't move with the maneuver. Pushing twisting his yoke and rudder he brought his fighter back around. Once again facing his opponent. (2)

(I accept.) Grinning at the sound of the Imperial's voice and the number of troops he was taking Gren switched to an older channel he had. "Justiciar are my old team aboard? What about those blokes who've been training specially to fight these metal freaks?" "We can get them if you want General. But right now we're in the thick of it. All the MCs are. That flagship and her immediate support are a real doozy." "Alright Justiciar you just shunt whatever troops you can spare into a few strike parties and have them hit the flagship. Thats where I intend to go. Also send a fire redirect to the Crusader. Have as many ships as can be done direct as much firepower against the bridge on the big baby. Don't destroy it just give me a hole big enough to punch a one of those boarding shuttles in." It had all gone fairly smoothly since Gren had contacted the Imperials. One of them had gathered what looked like a battalion's worth of transports and began rushing over. Moving into an escort position the Sentinels a couple of A-Wing squadrons a squadron of the new X-Wings and half an E-Wing squadron set up as escort. Idly engaging any enemy fighters that got too close. Whilst the now rather giant furball erupted all around them. It seemed most of the pilots in space had decided to join in. Going back to listening to the battle chatter of thousands of Alliance pilots Gren continued his escort run. Soon things would get hairy though. Once they got in range of the guns anyway. Hopefully the presence of so many of their own pilots would deter them from going all out though their fighters were small enough to slip around most big turbolasers. Suddenly a voice chimed in for him. "Gren! Looks like we're attracting some attention. A squadron that was tearing apart a wing decided to leave the last of them and hit a straight intercept for us!" "What! A wing are you joking? Heading?" "Twelve marks. Bearing Four Seven." Engaging his comm Gren swore loudly... In hindsight he probably should have sworn then engaged his comm but hindsight is a useless piece of.. "Strike Party stay on course I'll catch up to you in a minute. Sentinels, Tusken Sun, disengage. Heading Eight Fourteen. Spread out. Watch your sixes for any sneakers and make sure you cover your arcs and your wings." Gren named the two E-Wing elements. Both were originally from the Justiciar. Both were created by him. Gren reckoned they were as good a match as anything they would come up against. With that he arced around. Setting in to a direct head on. Perhaps the most dangerous of tactics in the book its casualty rate was only exceeded by the retreat. Going over in his head the old Star Fighter theory lessons. Stage One: Detection and Identification. Well thats been done and we've chosen to attack so now its Stage Two: Closing. Of course we're going head to head. Cause we're all hard! Thinking of hard. "You still with us Lieutenant Starflight?" "He's alive sir. Not doing too bad for a fresh caught either." Came Lia'silik's voice over the comm. Oh good. Gren thought as the range to the enemy fighters came down to five klicks. Centering his crosshairs on the leaders wingmate Gren hit his thrusters again. Arcing forward a bit from his pilots. At four clicks a stuttering tone came up. At three and a half it began solidifying. At three a solid tone came through and almost as one fourteen torpedoes flashed out and away. Straight for the enemy lines. "All shields full Clinga!" Gren ordered. Instantly after Gren started jinking and juking. Mostly etheric so that his targeting didn't skew but it was still pretty dodge. Switching over to single laser fire he squeezed down on the trigger spraying fire over the enemy fighters. At this range it was only a lightshow but a little known fact was that laserfire distracted the targeting computer. So whilst the lasers weren't doing much damage at this range the enemy wouldn't be able to target him effectively. And then the lasers would start doing damage. But as they got closer Gren was forced to do less shooting and more dodging as laser and torpedo fire between the two groups increased. At point blank. Maybe half a click Clinga once again began shrieking. A flash and two cut off cries of agony and Tusken Sun had lost a wing pair. Too close together. And then they were past. And now comes maneuver. Gren thought as he cut his speed and applied rudder to spin his fighter around to face the enemy. (1)

Listening to the rather odd sounding reply Onderin gave him he frowned slightly. But answered anyways. "Done and done boss. Consider that flagship out of commission as of five minutes ago." Suddenly the new threat emerged. Two hundred new enemy ships of varying sizes. As he watched a blaze of missiles exploded. Killing possibly thousands. And behind them came a wave of fighters followed by warships. Swearing Gren barrel rolled and flicked over nose over tail until he was diving. Straight into several hundred angry Arach'tar fighters. Straight into an oncoming cloud of angry hornets. For a few moments all he did was fly and shoot. Scoring a hit here. Receiving a glancing blow. Nothing too serious though by the sounds of it his astromech was having the droid version of an apoplexy. And suddenly he was through the storm. With almost Jedi-like skill he had survived with only severely weakened shields and some scorch marks on his fuselage. It was only the Ranger's Eyes superior shielding, maneuverability and firepower that had got her through. Pulling up and around Gren watched the furball explode as a dozen Alliance Squadrons desperately attempted to stem the tide of Arach'tar fighters. Choosing a dangerous looking target he did some quick maths and arced his engines to full. With a burst of speed he narrowed the distance. Making adjustments as he went. "Clinga! Boost shields as high as you can without losing me engines or lasers. Take it from the reserve generator." Just as his target got in the kill zone he lined up perfectly on the manual targeter. Not even bothering with his targeting computer Gren fired three tri-bursts in close succession. Watching long enough to see the first hit before he dodged around a unhappy looking B-Wing and found his next target. A pair of the baddies happily shredding an E-Wing from a squadron he didn't recognise. Frowning Gren activated his hud. Locking on to the port target he hit green and fired in all of three seconds. The second bugged out but Gren was hot on his heels. These Arach'tar fighters were maneuverable. They were powerful. But the Ranger's Eye was perhaps the most advanced fighter in the galaxy. Already an E-Wing. It was heavily modified by Gren and a master mechanic. Quickly shredding that target with a pinpoint midsection strike that tore it into flying debris Gren went on automatic. Flying and shooting. Flying and shooting. As his hands did that his brain did other things. "Alright Sentinels listen up. We're going to push this dogfight as close to that Arach'tar flagship as we can. That means taking it across the entire battlefield but so be it." That done he concentrated on flying once more. Maneuvering and rallying other pilots to maneuver in a subtle shift that pushed the dogfight (now encompassing what Gren suspected was nearly a five hundred fighters from the three powers present!) towards hostile lines. Switching to a channel Gren knew had once been a direct link to the old Imperial brass he hoped that it was still being monitored. "Imperial Command this is Gren Sairdonga. I'm looking to blow some holes and maybe land some troops on that Arach'tar flagship. You got any people crazy enough to want in?"

Gren was sitting in the pilots ready room waiting for the go signal when the new comer arrived. "Lieutenant Starflight eh? Assigned to me for this scrap?" A chuckle broke out nearby. Turning Gren spotted Allin watching the new guy with amusement. "Something funny Al?" He asked. Curious as to what would make the usually rather somber Captain start laughing outright. Stifling another chuckle he shook his head. "Nothing old horse. Just something Col said." Turning back Gren shook his head in mock aggravation. Some people. He thought to himself. Taking the datapad the new officer held he looked it over quickly. "Alrighty then. Lucky you we have a couple of spare E-Wings for this mixer. You'll fly with my squadron for now. Until we receive orders we'll mix it up with any enemy starfighters that get too friendly. The Admiral will at some stage order us into some part of the attack. So make sure you suit up. Weapons. Armour. Whatever you need. Take some explosives with you and a vibroblade. You can store it all on your fighter and take it out as needed. Says here you consider yourself a pilot but have had no formal evaluation or training.Tell you what if you come out of here alive we can skip all that and shove you straight into a squadron. Skip all that recruit and trainee pay garbage. Hell if you perform well enough you can join the Sentinels. Thou-" Suddenly an alert klaxon sounded. With a sigh Gren stood and turned to the squadrons on board the Crusader. "Alrighty my lads. You have your orders already. Squadron Leaders start your preflights now. Wing Leaders report to me once we're in the bustle and I'll hand out orders on the fly. This is ad hoc people. So for now just stay in close and shoot down the baddies. Mount up!" With that the ready room exploded into action. They had about twenty minutes before exiting hyperspace. Every second would be needed. Moving over to the fighters marked with the Sentinel's coat of arms. (An Alliance Crest overlaying an Tower with a dozen E-Wings around it in a big circle! Familiar eh?) Eying the seven fighters and three pilots sitting under them Gren waved. From three to seven. Better then before I guess. He thought. Though our customised fighters are still the best of the lot. Turning to the new guy who had followed him Gren said, "Well here we are. Sentinel Squadron. We're an elite squadron. Been around for years. Some day I'll tell you the history. When we got time. And if your still assigned to me. That one over there. That looks like some mad painters had at it. Is yours. We get to colour our own fighters. That too is history I'll explain sometime. Again if your still assigned to me. For today you'll be Sentinel Seven. Once in the mix fly with her over there. Thats Lia'silik, she'll be your wing." Gren indicated a short twi'lek female. She grinned and waved. Stepping in close Gren spoke so only Adam could hear. "This is going to be one hell of a furball mate. Some good flying will be needed. But as long as you cover your wing. And your squadron mates and follow orders. You'll come out alive. If you need assistance don't even hesitate calling for it." Stepping back he nodded at the now six other Sentinels. "Alright my angels get ready for this scramble." He said levering himself into the cockpit of the Ranger's Eye. He settled himself. Starting the preflight checks. Five minutes to go and a wave of beeps and blurps from his astromech told him they were ready to roll. Activating his comm he selected the squadron wide channel for his use. "Alright Sentinels. By the numbers report in. One engines green lasers primed." As the other pilots reported in Gren took stock of his equipment. Antar Heavy Blaster Rifle. Twin Wakishazi. Anti-Matter Knife. Antar Battle Suit. Ready to rumble. As he watched the timer on his main control panel counting the seconds he listened idly to the chatter over the comm. When it reached ten seconds he activated repulsorlifts. Brining his fighter up and orientating it so it pointed out the hangar. Close to the entrance his Sentinels would be the first load out the door when the popped in. Then as they reverted he kicked his thruster. Roaring out of the hangar bay and into the cold void of space. A moment of awe hit him as hundred of ships popped out of hyperspace all around him. Moving into battle formation as they faced the defenders of the planet. Maneuvering around Gren shunted power equally between engines, shields and lasers and arced up and around the massive bulk of the Crusader flying by the bridge he waggled his wings in a mark of respect then took up a position as escort. The rest of the Sentinels quickly joining him. As the battle unfolded around him Gren listened to the comm chatter of his pilots. Good men and women. Dying because of these metal freaks. Even the Imperials were better. And he hated the Imperials. But then the Mon Calamari elements of the fleet began moving forward. Into the Arach'tar fleet. Switching over to a channel where he could communicate directly with Admiral Starlisk. A privilege of rank he didn't often use. "Sir. Orders? Its not much use us holding up around the cruisers. We'll be cut to pieces by all the fire." Gren said, eying a dogfight taking place a klick away. Over a hundred fighters mixed it up. Alliance. Imperial and Arach'tar. It'd be his first chance to see how good their pilots were.

Upon arrival at Ilum Gren swore as his back started to itch. Reaching over to scratch it he exploded. Fun. His fighter remained where it was on board a Mon Cal Cruiser. ((Three days from here.))

As his comlink began beeping Gren grinned. He knew what was coming. Giving it a quick look he nodded once. Looking back up at the Jedi he said, "Alrighty you might have noticed but we've all been called to a briefing. I will catch you all later my little doves. Please remember. Their is a Stealth Fighter for every one of you angels who is coming along.. Don't break them. They are rather expensive." With that he turned and left. Heading home.

((OOC: Alrighty, can't wait no longer. Jedi who feel the need to be here... As none have can pretend they were here.)) Back in Hanger Seven Aleph Gren decided that enough of the Jedi had gathered for him to bother giving this lesson. Around a dozen or so. Gren hadn't met any of them but that wasn't an issue. Like usual he cut straight to the chase. "Gday. As you know I am General Gren Sairdonga. And today I have a special present for the Jedi." Pressing a button on his comlink the hangar doors whirred to life. Opening with a crunchy rumble. Yes a crunchy rumble. With the hangar now open to the outside world a low roar could be heard. Turning Gren looked out as a black dot appeared in the distance. Expanding slowly. Taking on a form. In a few seconds it went from being a black dot to a dark blot on the horizon. As the noise increased Gren watched the Jedi's reactions. Impassive for the most part. Standing up from his explosive seat Gren suppressed a grin as several of the Jedi edged away from him... Either he smelt bad or they thought anyone crazy enough to sit on proton torpedoes was bad karma. As the dark blot took definition Gren turned and waited for it. An X-Wing... Or mighty similar to an X-Wing. It was actually a modified XJ3 X-wing. A formidable fighter in itself. As the strange looking fighter landed in a clearing in the hangar Gren waved the Jedi's attention back on him. "Its called the StealthX. As you can see it is a simply a modified XJ3. As you can see it has star-flecked body of irregular, matte-black fiberplast. This helps hide it from visual scanning in space and also assists to defeat " As the cockpit opened out jumped an Alliance pilot with a non-standard flight suit. Black on black. The inside of the fighter was the same colour. Besides the muted lights of the control panel. And the R9 astromech droid. "Same same for the astromech . An advanced R9 model. Made especially for the Stealth Fighter. Sensor negators, a Gravitic modulator, a Photon absorber, and a Thermal dissipater all contribute to hide this baby from almost all forms of detection. Its still there. And can still be spotted by someone especially sharp of eye... If he is looking for it. A special tibanna gas codenamed tibannaX is used to power her engines. Turns dark almost instantly. Fancy stuff. Flies straight past my head." A Jedi stepped forward. By his clothes he was a Knight. "General all this is well and good but what about comms? Unless you have a way of somehow concealing your comms the enemy can track it easily from its electronic signature. Unless you have some magic way of hiding that too!" An educated Jedi. One who felt that knowledge of the force wasn't the be all and end all of the Galaxy. Fantastic. "Comms are highly restricted and whilst we have had no success with a 'magic' device that hides them you Jedi do. In your battle melds. In your links to the force you have a far better communication system then comm arrays provide. And the force won't be able to be traced as far as Stealth Fighting goes.. To my knowledge." A low murmur spread from the group of Jedi. They hadn't seen that one coming. Gren didn't have time to wait for them to get over their lovey lovey vows though. Either they were in this fight all the way or they weren't. "It has the standard four lasers. And also a pair of proton torpedoes launchers. The third was cut out for the Gravitic Modulator. These can also be adjusted to take Jedi shadow bombs or various other explosive weapons." Turning he nodded to the pilot. "Alrighty. Thats that. Any questions?" ((OOC: I know its a long shot but if anyone does turn up and has questions then do ask.))

((OOC: This call is for anyone and everyone on Gala right now. If you want to see what sort of present I have for all you guys. Then feel free to come. Keep in mind if you are going to Ilum you'll probably want to see what I have to show you.)) As Gren stepped into the Jedi Temple portion of the Gala base he felt slightly better. Some of the fatigue washed away from him. He didn't feel quite so sick at heart. And he felt slightly cleaner. The violence of his life seemed to weigh down on him most of the time. But in the Jedi temple. HI burden eased slightly. Going to a nearby data terminal Gren punched in an access to the base wide frequency. Moments later his voice rang out throughout the crowded corridors. "This is General Sairdonga. I request that all Jedi who choose to respond to the call of Master Darkfire Immediately make their way to Hangar Seven-Aleph. The Alliance has something for you all." With that Gren disconnected and made his own way to the designated hangar. Upon Entering he noticed that four of the fighters had already arrived. Grinning he turned and waited, seating himself on a torpedo rack he put his feet up on a torpedo yet to be loaded. Some would call him crazy. Gren just thought of himself as a man with a mission.

A flight of E-Wings pops into realspace above Mon Calamari. Gren Sairdonga, flying the lead craft immediately patches through a channel to the shipyards. "This is General Gren Sairdonga of the Alliance to Restore the Repbulic. Requesting permission to land." A grudging rather nasaly voice comes back to him. "Permission granted Reb- Alliance General. Land yourselves in bay five. An escort will meet you there. Out." Gren shook his head. He didn't like dealing with Imperials... But he didn't have much choice. Directing his flight to land he hopped out of his fighter to meet the Imperial Escort. Still wearing his Antarian Battle Armour Gren watched the Imperial stormtroopers approach. "We need to confiscate your weapons sir." "No you really don't. You need to take me to the construction overseer." "No armed Reb- Alliance soldiers are to be allowed into the shipyards. Sir." "Listen soldier-" Gren said stepping up close so his breatplate bumped against the troopers. "The Arach'tar are coming. We don't have time to waste playing. Good guy. Bad guy. You either let me and my men through as we are. Or can try and tell the Arach'tar to disarm themselves when they shatter the Imperial fleet standing on its own. Now take me to the overseer." "Follow me" Was all the reply Gren got. A few minutes later they were outside the overseers office. Entering Gren tossed a datapad to the surprised Mon Calamari. He hadn't expected to see any Alliance people for a while. "G'day old friend. we need ships and we need them badly. That their contains the stats. MC90a crusiers, Star Defenders. And lots of them." Looking at the ships the Mon Cal overseer swore. "Are you serious Gren? Their is over one-hundred and fifty ships here of a capital class. Much less frigate and destroyer class. What do you want with so many ships?" "To fight the Arach'tar." "Ah... I'll beging work immediately. The yards recently got a vast improvememnt to construction of ships so we should have some for you by the end of the week." "Good. I'll hang around here until ordered off. Thank you old friend." The only thing he did do was send a com back to Gala. Informing ADmiral Starlisk of the completeion of the first phase of his mission.

Gren was visibly shocked. A general! He hadn't expected that one. The former Antarian Ranger, Vigilante, Bounty Hunter, Murderer... Now a Alliance General? If only his father or any of his family were around to see it. Gren assumed they were on ToprawThe survivors of his family. But finding them was a battle for after the war. Considering the Admiral's dissapearing form he promised himself that he wouldn't betray that mans trust in him... If only for the countless billions of lives at stake. Turning he made his way back to his fighter five fighters were gathered next to his own. Colan sitting in the cockpit grinning. "Heck of a battle hey sir?" "Indeed... And Colan. Thanks for trusting me. The pilot who was my wing at Mon Cal is still my wing." Colan was visibly shocked. He hadn't know Gren was back. "Hey... It's me! I'm always here for you Gren." "Yeah I know. I remember. Anyway lets get to work. We're heading to Gala first. We'll be their for only a day or two at most then we're heading for Mon Calamari. Where it all started. We're going to bring about the end of it all there." With that he hopped in his fighter and blasted off. Followed by the surviving pilots of his squadron. The Sentinels

Gren wasn't paying much attention to the meeting. Ever since stepping into the room he'd been assualted by memories of his old life. A young man flying through a battered fleet. Looking for a cause. An experienced veteran flys through a battleifield, picking off enemy wherever he goes. And all the while the voice was talking about the key. How he must find the key. Whatever the key was. But with the memories flooding back he was confident he'd find out. Turning back to the present he noted that the meeting appeared to have nearly finished. Looking around he saw Geki. He remembered the madman now. He'd been so close to picking off that murderous fool when the Arach'Tar had to interfere. Now they were all unwilling allies. He didn't trust the Empire though. Not at all. He'd stay on guard and at the first hint of deception killing would ensue. As the meeting concluded Gren fell into step beside his Admiral. Walking back towards the shuttle that was still their to transport medical supplies to the Alliance temporary compound. "It's good to see you, Gren, But I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you. What happened?" Gren was surprised... He didn't remember ever being called by his first name by the Admiral. Then again he didn't remember a lot of things about his past... What happened to him was one of them. "I don't know Admiral. I don't remember much beyond the Battle of Csilla. Whatever happened to me damaged my memory badly enough that its only just now begining to come back... You'd probably know more about my last mission then I would, Sir." It was the truth. He didn't remember a thing beyond what Colan and Allin had told him. He'd have to remember to thank those two. If they survived that battle. "But I can tell you that most of the survivors o f the battle are gathered in a makeshift base. A fair number of fighters and shuttles managed to flee the enemy so we aren't totally defenceless. A few thousand personnel managed to get either to an escape pod or a shuttle so we're still collecting our people from all over the planet." That was it as far as he knew. Gren didn't remember feeling this overwhelmed by an enemy before. Probably over a million people had died in that battle. Billions more at Corellia. When he finally figured out how to destroy these creatures... "Orders Sir."

Gren arrived outside the command center late. He'd spent a great deal of time organising Alliance survivors into a temporary gathering point. Until they knew exactly what was going on he didn't want them scattered around open to another assualt by those creatures... Or any enterprising Imperials. As he'd worked he slowly noticed changes. Old memories coming back... Of his family. His father. He had once been an Antarian Ranger. So had Gren, until he left after his fathers murder. The intervening years had been arduous. Then the Alliance came into it. Then it all went blank... It seemed like his run in with the man, Geki had triggered something. Now he was on his to the Imperial Command center. The three surviving members of Sentinel Squadron flying wing, One in a fighter the other two in a shuttle. Landing outside the Imperial Command Center, Gren disembarked, leaving the three pilots to organise medical aid of some sort to the surviving Alliance soldiers. They didn't have a lot of medical equipment in the shuttles they had escaped with. Going straight to the room all the officers were gathered in he walked in quietly. Entering at the back and taking a seat. Unseen by most. He'd speak to the Admiral after.

Double Post. My Bad