| Dark Hearts |
| Summary: | Crowe, Michel and Taija discuss the Force. In a roundabout way. |
| Date: | 22 Mar 2011 |
| Related Logs: | Plenty not posted yet. |
| Players: |
   |
| Iron Aegis Lounge |
|---|
| TBD |
| IC Date |
The morning before shipping out to Corellia, most of the base is still running as normal. People come and go from the dining areas but Taj never really likes to eat there. Or at least thats what rumor says. The far less busy Lounge seems to be more her speed at this time of morning - Early. She's staked out a corner of the room at a card table, eating the rest of an omlette with some coffee. There's two Marine guards standing nearby eating their own breakfast from held plates. The Colonel doesn't really seem like the kind of person to tolerate guards, though. Too much fight in her.
The Sal'vta is certainly not known for its fine food, as her Captain barely keeps the ship stocked well enough to feed himself for the most part. So, this morning Crowe avails himself of Iron Aegis' mess, and departs from it shortly after — food in hand. He makes his way down to the quiet lounge, and drifts on inside. "Good morning," he offers evenly to the guards and to the Colonel with a nod of his head, and then moves to lean up against one of the walls in the lounge — where he can eat his food standing.
Taija looks up to Crowe as he enters, the Marines nary giving him a glance. They're not here for him, apparently. They even move off a bit to go find their own seats. Taj watches them before looking to the Jedi. "Might as well sit here. They don't have to work if there's someone like you around. No point." She kicks out a chair beside her, stabbing at the omlette again.
"I wouldn't say that," Crowe intones quietly, drifting over towards the offered chair. "I was asked not use the force here, unless there was an emergency." His gray eyes glance around the room, and a brief smile touches his lips "So, their senses are just as keen as mine right now…" The Jedi-Nomad cuts off a piece of pancake and eats it slowly. "Though I appreciate your confidence in my skills, Colonel." The Knight says in a voice that is utterly sincere.
"Using the Force here is most certainly a bad idea. But they aren't here to protect me, Rennek." She sips at her coffee and glances to him. "They're here to make sure I don't go crazy and kill a bunch of people. Or make any unauthorized phonecalls. Had a friendly run-in with a darksider a week or so ago. Self-imposed security." Taija ghosts a smile and goes back to her omlette. "Someone like you can sense if I'm screwing around or being influenced. Same goes for Ian. If he's around, I don't need the human Dobermans."
Michel has arrived.
"I suppose I could if I was looking," the Knight notes calmly, studying his pancake for the moment, "or if that force user was strong enough to make me take notice when they tried to influence you." Crowe cuts off another piece here, and quietly eats it — savoring the taste. His gray eyes turn from his plate to the Colonel here. "But until you try something insidious with you omlette, I'll just have to trust you for the moment." A hint of a smile touches Crowe's lips here, and he looks back to his plate and the next bite. "Which dark sider's path did you cross?" He asks then.
Taija shrugs. "Look if you want. When it comes to the security of the base and whether or not I'm compromised, its one of those things I consider too important. Everyone has their personal choice about whether or not they're influenced on this base. The default is 'No'. When it comes to internal security? I will make a command decision if I have to about someone being scanned." She continues eating her omlette, giving a short smile to the remark about her food. "Which one? Nobody important. Emperor Maleficus. Seemed like a pretty good guy, actually. We talked for about an hour. Had drinks. Actually had a laugh or two." And this coming from a woman who is wanted among the worst for Treason against the Empire.
"I will, but when there is a need." The Jedi says quietly, still slowly working through his pancake. "There isn't a need right this moment, and I don't enter another's mind lightly." He finishes up the pancake then, and sets it down next to him — turning his full attention to Taija. "Emperor Maleficus, you say…" Says Crowe smoothly, not even raising an eyebrow here. "I had heard he was a talker, but then again I've never met one of the Sith who didn't want to talk. Given that he used to rule the Empire, I am sure he had a lot to say to an Imperial Officer." The Jedi doesn't press further with questions here.
Michel putters his way into the room and immediately goes looking for the coffee pot. If he notices the others, he's too busy trying to secure himself a cup and a little powdered cream to do more than nod vaguely in their direction.
"Yeah, you ain't entering my mind, buddy. I draw the line there. But you can probably.. feel or something.. whether or not I've been compromised. I'm not exactly giving off air conditioning, I assume." Taj smirks at him again and sips at the coffee. "But yeah. It wasn't so much him talking to an ex-officer. It was more me talking to my former boss. He used to be in the Navy. He knew me as soon as he saw me. Or felt me. However it works for you people." She cuts off another piece of omlette. "Like I said, it was actually a good chat. Glad I decided to face him down. Parted on good terms. We aren't best friends, obviously." Sith have no friends. "But he offered me a job. Wanted me to help him out. I know it was me just missing that good old fashioned darkside Imperial in me, but I really wanted to take him up on the offer. Now?" She snorts, holding her fork and grinning. "They don't have bacon and cheese omlettes. Ultimately, this is the deciding factor." Seeing Michel, she waves her fork at him and reaches for her mug once more.
"I will never bow to another Emperor, Dark sider, Light sider, or just plain egomaniacal." Michel pronounces sternly. "We've all had enough of that kind of nonsense." he adds, joining the duo at the table and gesturing towards an empty seat. "If the Republic hadn't been allowed to become such a political cesspit, so much of all that could've been avoided."
The Jedi Knight listens intently to all that Taija has to say here. He doesn't chide, he doesn't preach, he says very little on the matter in fact. "Well, thank goodness for bacon and cheese omlettes then." He says with a brief smile, and his gray eyes turn from Taija to Michel. "A worthy sentiment to say the least," Crowe notes smoothly. "I personally have never been one to live by another's leave, but I don't think most sentients would want my life. A lot sentients are willing to trade away much of their freedom for even just the illusion of 'peace and prosperity.'"
Taija shrugs gently to Michel. "An Emperor is what they are. What they do with the position is ultimately what makes their role in our lives important. A benevolent Emperor? One that supports liberation, freedom of choice, and the promotional of equal rights across the galaxy? Yet has the firm arm to act to defend it?" She sips at the mug. "Sounds like a Jedi Council that finally learned its lessons. Assuming this person was legitimate, they'd have my support." She cuts down to the last slice or so of the omlette and looks back to Crowe. "Sure you have. You probably had to apprentice at some point. Take your licks. Learn how to be all light sided and everything. You had to modify your behavior. I'm sure you weren't born calm and peaceful. You may not report to the Council these days but I'm sure what I told Ian about Maleficus went back to them. Just how it goes. We all serve our own masters. Anyone who has ever done time with a military unit will appreciate how well it can work."
"Yes, and our Emperors have given us so much peace and prosperity haven't they?" Michel replies to Crowe with an ironic twist of his lips before sitting down. "Most of the time I spent fighting was against enemies that were largely invented by…." he sighs, then shakes his head. "Feh….let us not start down that road." he says at length, shrugging that topic away. "I would be with you in principle, sir." he adds for Taija's benefit. "But the difference between a corrupt Emperor and a benevolent one is largely determined by what side of his blaster rifles you're on." he smirks. "At least, that was my experience."
"If history has taught us anything there are rarely benevolent Emperor's," Crowe says smoothly, looking back and forth between the pair, "or an all knowing and perfect Jedi Council for that matter." The Jedi-Nomad leans lightly back in his chair here, and continues to talk quietly. "Even the wisest Jedi has flaws and faults, and can make mistakes." He glances over to Taija then, and a smile again touches his lips. "You are right we all have our masters. Ultimately, I choose to listen the Jedi Council, and to aid them where I can. Ian may do so as well, but I will not try to speak for hm here. Ian is his own person. In the end you choose to follow an Emperor, a Master, or even a superior officer. The choice to do so remains yours."
"And rightly so. We're people of war, Michel. That's how we should look at it. But it also behooves us to examine why we are pointing the rifles. Which is where the force users came in. They gave us false impressions and thoughts. Raped us of free will. Given liberation and a military run free of the Force?" Taija tilts her head toward him as if inclining him down that road rather than a debate about Emperors. She cuts up the last of her omlette and washes it down with a sip of coffee. Crossing her legs, she sits back in the chair. "Tch," Taija speaks up. "Emperor is just a title and position. The person in that role is the deciding factor. What someone does with their power is what provides the distinction. Palpatine was a steamy jackass. No surprise. Are all potential Emperor's the same? Of course not. It would be the same to assume the trillions of sentients out there are all the same. Some are more capable. Some are less. But I'll tell you one thing that I do, and I have no problem saying this, admire about the dark users? They will cop to their shit and they aren't afraid of it. I've never once heard one make an excuse. For anything. For all the hell and ruination they have caused, they do what needs to be done and won't be patronized for it."
"An interesting point." Michel replies, nodding slowly as he sips at his coffee.
"Some are proud of what they have done, and the carnage they have wrought. Others plot and scheme and politic more then a Republic Senator, rather then be forced to take action. Still, others are just as cowardly as many say the Jedi are, or just simply deny that anything they have done is evil. Darth Maleficus's own apprentice has ran from me several times, and has refused to fight her sworn enemy — acting like a child being picked on. Maleficus, Vader, Palpatine, Malign. Many of them did what needed to be done as you say, but I've known just as many dark siders who would are far less brave or willing to face danger then either of you." Crowe says in a voice that remains quiet and sincere.
"Ultimately, what I am trying to say is they are just as varied as every man you will meet in your life. Some have honor, others don't, but they all ultimately serve their own desires in the end. Of those infamous Sith who acted without mercy or regret… Nearly all of them are dead." Crowe shrugs his shoulders here ever so slightly.
"I had heard there was a journalist from Corellia making noises about writing a biography on Vader." Michel comments quietly. "I cannot remember the woman's name to save my life, though. I wonder what the Jedi Council would think of such an enterprise." he muses, looking slightly to Crowe. "He is, after all, not precisely a ringing endorsement of your organization."
The Colonel thinks on all that, holding her mug between her hands. "That's because far too many Force users, in my opinion, rely on their special skills to get everything done. I'll take three skilled jocks from this crew in a cockpit before I'd even consider taking a Jedi or Sith with lesser skills. Swing a sword all day. Crackle when you get mad. The Force just strikes me as the lazy way out. Michel and I?" She glances to him. "We've faced death plenty of times. You don't fly Interceptors by being a coward. But thats our trade. We kill. And we're very good at it." She sips at the mug and looks down to it, lifting her eyes slowly as she speaks. "So then wouldn't, by that logic, it also be fair to say that there are some darkusers who may not be all bad? Sure they give into emotion, but so do most human beings. To classify them as bad simply because of that would place all of us on a similar plane, would it not?"
"I doubt the Council would oppose it, and in fact they may even help her write it — in an attempt no doubt to learn from our mistakes. Then again, the Jedi Council that Darth Vader was a part of was destroyed long ago, and an entirely new council rules the Order. They are not perfect, and their past is not always a shining and glorious one. Still, I try to judge the Council and all others by what they do today, Lieutenant." Crowe says calmly to Michel.
"I would not want to face you in a cockpit, Colonel." The Jedi-Nomad says with a quick smile and a laugh. "I am no fighter pilot, though my Padawan is. Then again if you wanted to survive in the Dune Sea with nothing for a week, find someone that is lost, or fight a delaying action against a superior ground force… I would be more useful to you. In the end a single pilot can change the course of history just as easily as an entire Council of Jedi." Crowe says to the pair, before focusing on the Colonel. "There are no doubt darksiders who are far more evil then others, and while I could offer you a metaphysical discussion on the Force and how it may effect your destiny… I don't think you would believe me right now. Either way, I certainly haven't proven myself to you in anyway to lend my words any real weight."
"Oh no, no, I meant no real criticism." Michel says, holding up a hand gently. "I was merely curious as to what their reaction might be." he explains. "There have been some rather salacious rumors swirling about over the years." he says simply, giving a half shrug as if to say 'which I take about as seriously as a dockside whore's promises'. "If she is serious, then she should certainly contact you, if she has not done so already." he says, swigging at his coffee and bobbing his head a little. "I knew a few men who served under Vader once." he snerks. "They found his command style to be rather….motivational, to say the least." he chuckles softly.
"But those are two vastly different skill sets, sir." he adds. "Personally? It was never the _killing_ that I enjoyed." he admits. "Obviously, there was no doubt that, yes, men were dying and I was responsible. But it is more the _challenge_ of the thing. To live in that fine half-millisecond between life and death, when so little a thing as a thruster pedal pressed too sharply can upset the balance." he sighs. "It sends the adrenaline spiking and the mind to spinning." he grins lustily.
"That makes sense, though," Taj points out to Crowe. "This honestly isn't a put down to the Jedi," for once, "but considering that the Jedi do tend to think more philosophically, that would seem the correct step for them to take. Learn from your past and all that. Though I would judge an organization, including this one, on how it handles adversity. Now and in the past - especially the past. One of the most efficient ways we had of picking off Republic fleets? Look at their modus operandi. So freaking predictable. It wasn't nearly as bad as the dumbasses steering the SS Imperial Fleet around the galaxy, but still kinda ridiculous." She grins despite talking about destroying fleets and her own side's tendency to move with the grace of a three-legged elephant. "We'll see how you fare. You know your strengths. Until I see them in action, you are correct." Taj lifts her mug to him gently. "I do not quite trust you or believe you yet. But your willingness to openly discuss darksides as something more than just a blanket enemy is interesting. But I'm open to discussions on anything. Metaphysical, physical, philosophical.. Just not political. Augh. I don't even know why Ian has me talk to the Corellian High Justice." She shakes her head. She then looks to Michel, and with a completely straight face and even tone replies, "I enjoyed both. The challenge of taking down someone else was what drove me, similarly. But I won't be shy in saying I took satisfaction from it. We battled. I won. They didn't. The fact that I killed an enemy made me smile. It still does. It means that I may have saved the lives of more of my pilots. Selfish and sick? Maybe. But I won't disrespect those people I killed, either, by saying I didn't care. I did, and still do, immensely."
"Fear certainly is a great motivator, but it is not the best. I don't know if you fear Ian or not. He is certainly a fearsome warrior in his own right, but I suspect you follow him because you respect him more then anything else. Am I right, Colonel?" Crowe asks glancing over to Taija here. When the pair of pilots speak of killing, and of combat he says little. Again, the Knight doesn't chide, or even say they are wrong for feeling what they feel. He too is a warrior, and his scarred face and weathered features tell the tale of a life filled with violence and hardship. "I don't claim to be a military genius, especially when it comes to Naval tactics… So, I'll have to take your word for it." He says lightly, and in good humor here to Taija. What she says last, he listens to carefully. "So, do you believe that you can still respect and honor your enemy?"
"Ah, Colonel, always the Butcher with you." Michel chides Taija teasingly, shaking his head a little. "What we do is as much art as it is the science of war." he says with the kind of tone that indicates that he means it. He's either one hell of a fighter pilot, or a complete flake, or both. Then again, among fighter pilots, flaky people tend to be the deadly ones. "The Rebel's problem wasn't their equipment." he notes. "The Incom X-Wing was a good ship, _very_ good in the right hands." he says, giving Crowe a friendly nudge with his elbow. "It was the fact that most of the pilots were so damned inexperienced. You do not toss a youth into the cockpit of something like that, they know only enough to do all of the _wrong_ things with it."
"Fear is a great motivator when you want people under you who are cowards. That's why the Empire is so full of shit. There's no glory or spirit there. Weak-minded assholes have to resort to threatening their subordinates by hiding behind rank." This is probably why a woman like Taija rose as high as she did in the fleet. "You motivate by instilling trust and belief in leadership. That what your people are doing is right and believing in your own people. I follow and respect the hell out of Inrokana -because- he believes in me. It also helps that he's willing to go the distance required, when required." Taija sips once more at her coffee. "I.. Hmm. I don't -respect- the individual people. No more than they would me. We're warriors. We die. I respect motivations and the why. Life is less important than the reasons we live for it, if that tracks? I think that makes sense." A wasted life is still a wasted life, by her logic. At the tease from Michel, she lifts her mug and grins at him. "Fly to Fight, Fight to Win. But yes, I'd agree there. Though the Rebels still had a better share of crop pilots. A lot of our best were cut down in those godawful base model TIE's." Shiver.
"I've always been partial to the Y-Wing." The Jedi says wryly to Michel as he is nudged, and offers the man a quick smile. Crowe rises up to his feet here, and dusts any crumbs off his pants — listening intently to what the pair have to say still. "I agree with you, Colonel. What we live and die for is the most important decision that we will ultimately make. I can only hope that I choose wisely, and that others will do the same. If more people would take time to examine what their life will ultimately stand for when all is said and done… Well, the galaxy might be a happier place." With that said the Knight starts towards the door. "Either way, Colonel… Lieutenant… It has been a pleasure talking with both of you. We will have to do this again soon, but I believe now we all have a mission… So, may the Force be with you, and good hunting…" And Crowe steps out before either can deny his well wishes.
"I honestly don't concern myself with what someone lives and dies for - as long as they do it for something. I have no respect for drug addicts, low-lifes, scum, and people who only seek power for their own benefit. They can all die screaming for all I care. Oh, add slavers to that list, too." Taija nods firmly, watching the man rise. As he steps off she lifts her mug to him, not about to disagree with the send-off. She's probably heard it enough times from Ian. "So Mike, you got a dorm room picked out yet? I left a few spare singles for people straggling in late."
"Eh, the Y-Wing was as much of a deathtrap as the Mark One TIE." Michel chuckles. "Twenty years out of date, underpowered, the only thing that saved it was it's shields." he smirks. "Why probably explains why the Rebel pilots lived to learn from their mistakes…with …certain exceptions." he grins ferally. "Dormitories? No, I haven't. I'm just off the boat, madam….I'm not even sure where they are."
Taija nods a few times, leaning an arm over the back of the chair. "Yep. This place is a helluva lot bigger than I expected. About eighteen hundred rooms. We've got couples shacking up where we can and a few people doubling up where they didn't care of mind. The rooms ain't too shabby. They're bigger than a college dorm room. Little communal kitchens and bathrooms every hundred yards or so. Thankfully men and women have different showers and heads, though." She chuckles. "Ranking officers have grabbed the staterooms closest to the lounge area out here. Plenty of maps posted, too. There's a Red line on the floor with arrows that points towards the way out - hangars."
"Heh, I visited the hangars first." Michel grins wolfishly. "Had to be certain that you could actually make good on your claim, which, by the way, you _did_." he grins again, waggling his eyebrows. "Beautiful birds, those….They are _immaculate_. As to lodgings, you know me." he shrugs a little, as if such matters were beneath him. "I require only a place to sleep, a place to excrete and a place to cook and or eat. Did I ever tell you about that one tour on the Nemesis? Double-strength wing, we were hanging hammocks from the TIE racks."
Taija chuckles. "I didn't make good on anything. Ian did. He promised me it would be here. All of it. So I hunted you all did on a leap of faith. Glad I took it." She sips lightly at the mug of coffee. "I know what you mean. I'm just happy to have someplace I can call a home again. I ain't been back to Kuat goin on five years now. Babies are growin up. But this is about the best I can hope for. Come by my stateroom sometime. Its got a bar." She grins, but laughs at the idea of hammocks. "Good God. Seriously?"
"Oh, I do not want to think of home." Michel sighs wistfully. "I am told by my spies little Suzette is madly in love with a most unsavory spacer." he all but sneers. "Meron is, well, _huh_, himself, pompous as ever, no doubt." he smirks. "Still, it would be nice to have a bottle of the family label with old friends, but that time, I fear, has passed, at least for the near future." he adds, nodding to himself faintly. "Yes…It was during my last tour before I joined your Wing….It was actually quite romantic, swaying in the air many meters above the deck. If we were made to launch, we had only to fall into our flight suits and then into our ships." he smirks teasingly. "The only wrinkle was that the nearest head was down three sets of very steep stairs. Many a man reached the bottom only to realize they did not need to actually _use_ the head." he chuckles. "But to clean up."
Tai smiles easily. "Last I heard from my little ones was when Ona was back just before her and Ian faked their deaths." She smiles as only a mother can. The Kuati may be matriarchal, but you can't remove the mother from the genes and instinct. "Mmm. Family label. You brew? I've got a bang-up recipe for honey meade." She waggles her brow at him, but laughs at the mention of the hammocks and head. "Ewwwwww. Nasty stuff. There's somethin slightly romantic in the hammocks, though. I can see that. But if the guys' head was that close, makes me wonder how far the few females you all had were forced to march. Yikes." So few of them in the fleet? Not as many bathrooms. "Or was it communal heads?"
"We do a vineberry wine, not famous, I am sad to say." Michel replies, "But it should be. Sweet but tart, dry but fruity. Mixed berries, black, red and green. It makes a wonderful sauce for nerf or piggies." he grins. "Oh, yes, communal heads we had aboard that ship. If I might make an observation without sounding like a sexist idiot?" he asks. "I dislike communal heads. Particularly when one of the females in my squadron was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life."
"Oh hey, that sounds like some good brew! I never got into wine. My husband is a huge snot for it so I usually just let him pick out what we would eat with what he was cooking - which was usually a red. He can't cook much but meat so we all eat a lot of that." Taija reclines a bit more, relaxing in the chair. But the last has her laughing. Not sexist, apparently. "Ahhh the charms of being a woman. First deployment was like that. I used to get a kick out of the reactions guys would have. But trust me. You guys might have been looking but you better believe we were too. My God. So many guys? So few of us? Pick of the litter. Seriously. LOVED it."
"So did she, if scuttlebutt holds any truth." Michel chuckles fondly. "She had many admirers, Stormy. I know the Ops Boss was courting her, but it was a young Warrant Officer with the AIMD that she was really fond of." he smiles sadly. "They were affianced, you know. Before she was killed near Bastion. She was a very promising pilot."
Taj just grins like an idiot. "I bet she did. There used ot be a lot of stories about sexual harassment and all that. Some had some serious merit but most of it was just people gettin' jealous. That's why a lot of women never stuck with it. Its just too hard." Taija shrugs. "I'm Kuati so frak it. They wanna make a grab? As long as they don't mind me makin' a grab at their face and shove them backwards into a bulkhead." She preens, a rare gesture from her. But the expression fades. "Aye. Lost a lot of good people that way. Damned shame. In six months my first squadron turned over twice. Including three squadron commanders."
"Heh, I thought much the same, to be frank." Michel chortles softly. "Gods _below_, but she was a vision." he sighs. "How any of us survived those damned Mark One TIES escapes me." he grumbles, then smirks a little. "Though, truth be told, surviving them made us better pilots…"
The Colonel shrugs easily once more. "Like I said. Some had merit? Most didn't. Some guys just can't handle some other guy having the 'woman of their dreams' on a ship like that. Honestly? Most women the in the fleet aren't all that attractive. But it worked for us, though. Four hundred thousand personnel on a star destroyer? Maybe one percent are female? Good place to catch a husband if you're not much to look at outside of odds like that. Almost did that, myself." She grins. Taija isn't the hottest pilot out there but she could probably hold her own in a bar with mixed company. "And yeah, it separated the best pilots from the ones who couldn't hack it - according to theory. Like your hot friend? Probably a good pilot, cut down in a bad situation. No time to learn how to survive. Half the time I thinks its dumb luck that so many good pilots survived. Like the hand of God playin the loaded dice for us."
"Indeed." Michel sniffs softly. "Never did make any sense to me. They paid through their arseholes to train us, then they put us unto a ship that had the survival rate of a snowflake in the fiery abyss." he grouses. "We gave her the call sign 'Crazy Legs'." he adds after a moment's silent reflection. "Because. in the thick of a furball. she'd just start _stomping_ on thruster pedals like a mad woman. Effective tactic…..sort of."
"No kiddin. Frakkin Empire, right? Cheap fighters so they can produce more of them. What about pilots? Oh screw it, they can just produce more. Few billion men out there would love to say they flew fighters. They'd never run out of volunteers." Taija rolls her eyes. But she smirks at the callsign. "Tactic works. And not just in a club. Start jinking like that, makes for a harder target. The trick is to keep from getting into a rhythm. You do that, you're toast. Keep it random and planned." She tilts the mug towards him. "Like the way you fly. Each move may bring you closer, but it may not be the best move. You think about what needs to happen in the space around you and you work your way in as you can. Then you kill. Works beautifully."
"Thank you." Michel replies, nodding serenely. "It's just a simple thing, really. You can lay on the throttle until you're half-mad from the gee's. Maneuver until you detach your retinas. All of that is well and good for a rook. But for us? It's _silliness_! You need only to stay with your opponent, then let _him_ defeat _himself_ by trying to outmaneuver you. When you're barely maneuvering at all."
Taija nods a few times. "Yep. Just let them deal with the fact that there is a TIE pilot on his ass he can't shake. You don't even have to fire, though I'm pretty sure that would scare the hell out of them even more. Just hang loose, watch em squirm. Panic. Eventually they screw up real bad. I once had a B-wing in front of me freak out and maneuver into another B-wing. Blew themselves up. Real smart, there." She chuckles. Maybe she really does enjoy killing.
"Heh, the B-wings were always tough as nails." Michel replies, nodding. "Making them panic was about the only way unless you had half an hour to winnow through their damned shields." he chuckles softly. "My _favorite_ kill of any deployment was this particularly pesky A-wing driver, impertinent bastard dropped out of hyperspace almost in the middle of our column. Proceeded to raise seven of the Nine Hells with our wing. Those A-wings, _so_ fast, _so_ maneuverable…..Always wanted to play with one." he smiles wistfully. "Anyway, this little _prick_ thinks that he is untouchable, he goes to make a gun run at me…I will not lie…I barely saw him coming. Little pressure on the port thruster pedal, shave the stick down a bit, and he blazes a half kilometer in front of me, arse end glowing blue. Took a bit of time, but I managed to dupe him into thinking I was helpless to match his speed and maneuverability Just gave him enough rope to hang himself with."
Fade…
