Parody of "Escape" the Piña Colada song by Rupert Holmes:
I was tired of my old blues, it always was the same scan
Like a worn-out datatape, of a favorite plan
So while they all lay there waiting, I read HoloNews in bed
And in the personals column, a transmission I read
"If you like Solar Coroñas, and gettin caught in the flames
If you´re not into Minefields, and Intel Sweep is lame.
If you like winning in deployment, with a two-ship spin
I´m the blue that you've looked for, write to me, and we’ll win.
I didn't think about the old blues, I know that sounds kind of mean
But me and my old blues, had fallen into the same old dull routine
So I wrote to the Holo, took out a personal ad
And though I'm nobody´s poet, I thought it wasn't half bad
"Yes, I like Solar Coroñas, and gettin caught in the flames
Done with Superior Positions, ‘n Dangerous Territory’s a shame
I´ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut my old blues away
At a bar at Mos Eisley, where we´ll plan our next play.”
So I waited with high hopes, I put my cards on the mat.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew in seconds flat.
It was Corellian Conflict, and she said, "Here’s your blue"
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew"
"That I had Solar Coroñas, for gettin caught in the flames
And Navigational Hazards, has made this a brand new game,
Sensor Net and Salvage Run are cool. Armada’s shed its old skin.
You´re the blues that I've looked for, come with me, and we’ll win"
Rebels use the Matryoshka doll defense:
Vader attacks rebel flagship. Right as he captures it, it ejects a corvette with the plans.
Vader attacks the corvette. Right as he captures it, it ejects a life pod with the plans.
Slaughter in Saberhing - Ben (Screed) vs. Andy (Madine)
Admiral Screed had not been seen all day. That’s not to say the officers on board didn’t know exactly where he was, but it was widely agreed that, at junctures such as these, when he withdrew into the flagship’s intelligence centre, it was wise to consider him as otherwise indisposed.
The Corellian sector had been stunned earlier in the week, at the discovery of a fully fledged Rebel armada, brazenly standing in attack formation around the planet of Selonia. The planet had always been of concern to the Grand Moff; due to its deep latticework of subterranean tunnels, Tarkin had made it a priority of his tour to inspect the planet for harbouring rebel terrorist cells. But the holo recordings of the first few minutes, after Tarkin had dropped out of hyperspace near the planet, beggared belief. The Moff had managed to escape with the majority of his fleet intact, thanks to the interdictory grav-power of his new experimental flagship, but everyone in the fleet, from gunners to admirals, was under no illusion as to what had happened: unthinkable, unexpected, defeat. The Emperor’s eye was now fixed on Corellia.
The Moff's grand intersectorial tour would now be cut ignomoniously short - he would have no choice now but to stay in Corellia until revenge had been satisfied. But equally, he could not head up the Empire's response after Selonia, and so Admirl Motti, ever eager to promote his own career, had maneuvered on Coruscant in order to be given command of the sector. 'It will be interesting to see,', smirked Screed, 'when he arrives, if the Moff is as comfortable taking orders as he is giving them.'
His mind returning to task at hand, Screed rewatched the holofeed. What Screed saw worried him. The devious hit-and-fade tactics, the massed small frigates, and the emphasis on speed of assault all indicated a level of coordination and resources that were totally out of character from what knew. Something about the angles of attack made him suspect the hand of that inveterate anarchist and black operative, 'General' Madine. The balance of power had dramatically changed in the sector - his sector - and the truth was that he was in the dark as to what had brough this to pass.
The seven neural display banks, arrayed around him, winked and buzzed with commands as Screed surveyed the composite of intelligence and economic reports, collated from his two years stationed in Corellia.
'Practice makes a man' as they say in the academy, and Screed was nothing if not well practiced in obsessive strategic analysis. Two key premises were known. Firstly, despite their propoganda regarding freedom and self-determination, this terrorist cell was clearly here to plunder the vast wealth of the sector. Selonia itself was a hub of industry, its archipelagos housing deep warrens of mining, construction and technology - the perfect outpost if one wished to assemble a fleet in secret, Screed realised with a mix of respect and repugnance.
Secondly, they had gone to great expense to outfit a fleet - possibly more than one - that excelled in hit and run tactics. The most likely conclusion was clearly this: choke trade, cripple the economy, raid resources and strike sites which would leverage their advantages in manoeuvre and speed. After hours lost in interface, Screed suddenly snapped straight in his chair, disabled the displays and comm’d his personal secretary. “Have the fleet captains and chief engineers meet me in the ready room. And Vandl? Remind them that - as has now been made so painfully clear - speed is of the essence.”
Two short days had passed since Screed had played his gambit. Reports had been leaked to known sympathisers that the Empire had switched cargo routes in response to Selonia. Registration signals had been altered on all four of his ships, to mimic Acclimator-class transports. His fleet’s true size was being masked by null-hyperwave modulators, a trick first used on Screed himself, in his tour of the Outer Rim.
When the bait was finally taken, perhaps both opposing admirals felt an equal sense of surprise - Screed had set his trap to snare a fleet built around corellian corvettes, built here in his sector. Yet the obtuse and ridged length of the flagship now facing him could be nothing but a Mon Cal battle cruiser, flanked by two lithe torpedo boats. There could be no mistake. Screed signalled the Grand Moff, to relay the intelligence that the rebellion was now coordinating fleets from disparate sectors, then prepared to engage.
On approach, the rebel fleet had no choice but to maneuver point to point, due to the placement of his trap - a dense field of asteroids framed only a small lane for employment. With grim abandon, Screed immediately committed his reserve Gladiator to an accelerating flanking position to conduct a suicide run on the Mon Cal cruiser, while keeping standard formation with his twin star destroyers. The rebel fleet, realising the asymmetry of engagement, sprang to engage at close range with its two frigates. From the bridge one could already make out pockmarks of orange, flaring up along their dorsals; Screed’s hand-picked gunnery teams were already finding their mark. Across the bow of the VSD, Screed could see the brutal knife fight that was taking place between his own elite interceptors, led by Fel himself, and a vast buzzing swarm of A-wings. 'More heat than light', thought Screed, as pilot after pilot fell to the Mauler and the Baron.
All eyes on the flagship bridge now turned to the Gladiator, under Captain Eckhart, as it closed to torpedo range with the enemy flagship. Bright blooms of plasma sprung out into space, as rebel shield technology did battle with brutal imperial ordnance. Screed swung all armaments on his Star Destroyers starboard, and the bright flares of shielded shots was replaced with the less pyrotechnic, (but infinitely more satisfying, reflected Screed) rending of hull plates heated beyond breaking point.
A massive explosion engulfed both the Gladiator and the MC80 Flagship! ‘There is nothing nobler than death in service to the Empire’ intoned Screed, in his customary salute to the long list of captains lost under his command. Then, bursting from the heart of the broken command cruiser, the ruined yet still recognisable form of a Gladiator-class cruiser emerged. It’s twin prows looking for all the world like the teeth of a predator, pulling out the innards of its prey.
The rebel fleet scattered, its decapitation sending the remaining commanders into flight. Before they could jump to hyperspace, the ISD’s guns lit apart a flotilla that had strayed too near, and nearly ended a frigate. Screed bellowed down to his petty officers ‘Relentless work, gentleman, relentless! A red day for the empire!”
Credit - Ben
Civé Rashon's day - Hedge (Tarkin) vs. Robin (Mon Mothma)
The harsh wail of the emergency klaxon awoke Civé Rashon from a very pleasant dream. Years of military service meant that she was halfway to her locker before her concious mind registered the fact that she was awake. Around her there were grumblings and groans as the rest of the pilots of Obsidian Squadron woke up.
"This had better not be another damned drill," muttered Dodson Makraven resentfully.
"Stow that ****, Lt. Makraven!" she barked. "We're on duty, and that means if the Empire whistles we come running."
Personally, she was inclined to agree with her squadmate, although being Obsidian squadron's commander meant she couldn't say so out loud. Civé and Obsidian squadron had been reassigned from the brand new SSD Executor to this rustbucket when Rebel activity unexpectedly picked up in the Corellian sector. The Shrike was one of the older Victory-class star destroyers, dating all the way back to the end of the Clone Wars, and was comparatively small and cramped. To make things worse, Captain Krall was a real hardass, waking her crew (and pilots) at all hours of the day for bizzare drills. While Civé appreciated Krall's drive for perfection, she also though she was pushing them a little too much for the best performance, as resentment spread about their workload and lack of sleep.
She shrugged into her flightsuit and grabbed the black helmet from the rack. Glancing around she was pleased to see that the rest of Obsidian squadron were not too far behind her - the usual grumblings aside, there were no lazy pilots in this unit!
Civé's resentment faded as she led her squadron into the pilots' ready room, and saw the situation map on the wall. If this had been a drill, there would have been a flashing red 'Simulation' indicator in the bottom-right corner of the map - instead there was a green 'Connected' symbol indicating a real-time feed.
She gave a feral smile. This was the one reason she hadn't protested Obsidian Squadron's reassignment to the Shrike, why she'd put up with all of Krall's bantha fodder. Here was where they could really do some damage to the Rebel scum!
Commander Corvitz, the Shrike's CAG, started the briefing as soon as the pilots from all four squadrons had taken their seats. "As you can see, we're currently patrolling our extraction platforms in the Silerain belt, and long-range scanners have picked up an approaching Rebel fleet." The situation screen highlighted a Corellian Corvette, a pair of Nebulon-B Frigates, and one of the Rebel's refitted Dreadnaught-class cruisers, known colloquially as Assault Frigates. "There's also a lone transport, presumably outfitted for a support role."
"We're also facing a powerful fighter force - six X-wing squadrons, a pair of A-wing squadrons, and a HWK-290 which has been tentatively identified as the Moldy Crow, piloted by known rebel agent and outlaw Jan Oors."
The map scrolled over to show the Imperial dispositions. Moff Tarkin had formed a classic battle line, with the Demolisher on the left, Interdictor on the inside, Shrike next, and the newest ship in the task force, the Raider-class Corvette Instigator on the right.
"As you can see," continued Corvitz, "The enemy fleet is scattered on our right. The overall battle plan is to execute a right-wheel, confronting the enemy head-on where our firepower will be strongest. The two flanking ships," - he indicated the Demolisher and Instigator - "Will engage as the opportunity presents as the Interdictor and Shrike roll up on the enemy."
"The enemy squadrons are already in the air, so further instructions will be provided once you're in your fighters. Good luck, and may you fly well!"
Civé considered the odds as she strapped herself into her TIE fighter. The task group had eight squadrons to the enemy's nine - what was more the space-superiority A-wings were highly dangerous to her TIEs, while the X-wings were tough and posed a genuine threat to the capital ships. To face them there were two more TIE fighter squadrons in addition to Obsisian, a couple of TIE Interceptor units (including Saber squadron, who had a good reputation for long-range gunnery), and a pair of TIE Advanced squadrons for escort. There was also one Aggressor piloted by the bounter-hunting droid IG-88. While she personally didn't like relying on mercenaries, Civé decided she'd take any help she could get.
The ready lights of her squadron blinked green, and she pressed the transmit button. "Howlrunner reporting, Obsidian ready." A thrill went though her, as it always did when she used her hard-earned callsign - it was a surefire signal of some good flying ahead!
"Copy, Howlrunner," came the reply from Corvitz, "Permission to launch."
She switched to the squadron circuit. "Obsidian Squadron - LAUNCH! LAUNCH! LAUNCH!"
The TIE fighters screamed out of the Shrike's bay, closely followed by the other TIEs of the wing, and formed up ahead of the task group's capital ships. Glancing at her situation screen she could see the capital ships clumsily starting their wheel to starboard, while ahead the assault frigate and escorting corvette began a run across their bow, currently well out of combat range. More importantly, the enemy squadrons were swarming up ahead in two separate groups - one near the assault frigate clustered around the HWK, the other including the A-wings further to the right.
As the senior squadron leader Civé had overall fighter command, under the direction of Corvitz and his flight controllers, and she switched to the general transmission frequency. "OK people, time to kick some rebel ass! Arrow 1, take Fury 1 and 2 and hit the X-wings protecting the HWK, we'll provide top cover." Another glance at her screen showed a lone A-wing squadron had moved ahead of the second pack, probably on a recon mission. "Arrow 2, take Saber and Icarus and show that A-wing the error of his ways."
Acknowledgements came over the comm as Civé kicked in the engines. Updates came in from the Shrike's flight controllers, vectoring her onto the best course to hit the X-wings from behind, and she couldn't help whooping in delight as the X-wing squadron scattered in front of the TIES.
A confused melee developed, and her excellent kinesthesia - she had the highest situational awareness score ever recorded in the Imperial academy - told her that her group's attacks were not having as much effect as desired. "It's the HWK," she realised - there were probably intel agents analysing the Imperial comm chatter and vectoring the X-wings into intercept position.
Even as she watched, the HWK flew out of the immediate engagement zone, vectoring the X-wings away and leaving Howlrunner and her group out of position. They had killed an X-wing, but had lost the covering Arrow 1 in return.
Luckily Corvitz was up to the job, and vectored her group back onto the enemy, now enveloped in a sprawling mass dogfight right between the two fleets. Valuable time had been lost though, and the fight was now going against them.
As she jinked and fired she was peripherally aware of the rebel GR-75s making a suicidal dash right into the front guns of the Shrike. They died, but not before vectoring the remaining squadrons into the furball, taking out Arrow 2. Another X-wing squadron died, but so did Fury 2, and she had also lost two of her own squadron.
A sudden red blip on her situation screen caught her attention, and she pursed her lips in annoyance as the Demolisher made a similar suicidal charge against the enemy Assault Frigate. It was at least a warship, but the Rebel crews were unfortunately on the ball. Little damage was caused - and the charge has taken it away from the Interdictor and its targeting scramblers! A groan escaped her lips as concentrated fire punched through the shields, and one shot too many slammed into the hull. A massive internal explosion saw the Demolisher reduced to a crippled burning hulk.
Around her the fight was also not going well. The enemy has been damaged but most of their squadrons were operational, while over half of the Imperial wing was down, including Saber. "Shrike, this is Howlrunner," she called. "We're in trouble here! Requesting assistance."
Corvitz answered immediately. "We're already on the case. Hold on just a little longer. Vector point two three."
"Copy, Shrike," she gasped, as a high-G-turn squeezed the air from her lungs. That didn't help against the HWK's turret though, as she lost another Obsidian, leaving her with the equivalent of just one flight.
Suddenly Corvitz's voice burst jubilantly over the comm. "There she rides! Announcing the arrival of the Imperial ship Instigator!"
A new voice came over the squadron circuit. "This is Captain Marot - let us give you a hand there Obsidian leader."
"Copy, Instigator," Civé replied. "And for the record, my callsign is 'Howlrunner.'"
"Understood, Howlrunner. Anti-squadron batteries, open fire!"
The Instigator ploughed into the furball, missile launchers spitting deadly flechette torpedoes at the Rebel fighters. "All right people, let's make the most of it! Fury group, Icarus group, all fighters follow me!"
A hard skew turn brought them back into the fight, and she also saw that the Shrike and Interdictor were adding their own fire.
"Concentrate fire on the X-wings and HWK - leave the A-wings to the capital ships!" she commanded.
Acknowledgements came back from the remaining Imperial fighters. The bounty hunter droid had also engaged, and seemed to be going for the A-wings. She was about to order it to concentrate on the X-wings when a massive explosion rocked her fighter, and she glanced down at the screen to see the gently spinning wreckage of a Nebulon-B frigate come drifting through the combat zone, the victim of some excellent gunnery from Interdictor.
Captain Marot's voice came over the comm again; "Howlrunner, my momentum's taking me away from the fight. Hope we've helped out a bit..."
"Captain," she replied, "You were invaluable. I owe you a drink on the other side!"
"Copy Howlrunner, and good luck. Instigator out."
Her last supporting squadron had died, but in return there was only one A-wing flight left, and the HWK. Even as she watched, the droid's Aggressor fighter made an attack run on the As, evading their counter-fire almost contemptuously to blow them apart. Howlrunner's own squad screamed in on the HWK, close enough to make out "Moldy Crow" scrawled untidily on the hull. "Take this, Miss Oors," she muttered to herself. A desperate last-minute flicker of shields prevented the kill, but then the shark-like prow of the Interdictor loomed up behind her, and blew the ship up with ease.
"Nice work Obsidian," came Corvitz's voice over the comm again. "Job done, steer point six niner for home and..." He broke off suddenly, and Civé stared in horror at the situation screen as the Instigator's shields, already damaged in its flight past the Assault Frigate, collapsed completely under the onslaught of the Rebel corvette that had hitherto been unengaged.
She frantically switched to the tactical command channel, rarely used in a TIE fighter, just in time to hear an unknown voice shouting "...ment failure! We're losing Reactor 1!"
Captain Marot's voice cut over the confusion; "Begin emergency venting of Reactor 1, DCC teams to level four, secti..."
Suddenly the voice cut off, leaving behind only static.
Then another voice cut in on the circuit. "This is Tarkin. The Rebels have this one, but we've hurt them badly, more badly then they can afford. All fighters, return to your ships. All captains prep for hyperspace."
On Civé's screen, only a spreading cloud of molten wreckage marked the remains of the Instigator and Captain Marot.
This was a lot more brutal then round 1. The Imperials attacked a Rebel base and destroyed it, at the cost of an ISD (victory by just three points!). A Rebel attack on an unclaimed system was also successful (win by eleven points!), but they took more damage thanks to losing fewer upgrades. The third battle was a comfortable win for the Imperials, with medium damage to the Rebel fleet.
Victories: Imperials 2 - 1 Rebels
VPs: Imperials 3 - 2 Rebels
- Good evening everyone, and welcome to Correlia in Focus, the INN's regular round-up of news in your area. I'm Gadon Kreel...
- And I'm Jerris Tarask. Tonight on Correlia in Focus: threats from the so-called Rebel Alliance - should you be worried?
- That's right Jerris - Imperial intelligence has issued a precautionary warning to all shipping within the Correllian sector, alerting them to a potential threat from Rebel ships.
- That sounds pretty worrying Gadon - exactly what kind of danger are we talking about here?
- That's difficult to say - the notice doesn't specify exactly what the nature of the threat is. However, the Rebel terrorists have occasionally engaged in banditry and pirate attacks in the past - usually hit-and-run raids to steal resources from hardworking citizens of the Empire. They claim it's to fund their insurgency, but it's more likely they're selling the stolen goods on for a profit.
- That's hardly the work of a genuine political movement is it? Shipping raids seem more like something the Hutts or Black Sun would get up to...
- Absolutely right Jerris - although the Rebels claim to have a underlying purpose, in truth they're little more than bandits masquerading under a political banner. Intel analysis shows it's actually quite a clever trick - some more gullible citizens, especially those on the outer rim without regular access to the INN, might even be taken in by their claims to be acting in the name of freedom.
- But what about the threats themselves? Exactly how dangerous are the Rebellion in terms of resources?
- Well, Imperial Intelligence puts the level of resources available to them as 'low', which probably means there's not too much to worry about. Perhaps we'll see a few shipping strikes here and there - but they don't have the ships or soldiers to pose a real threat to the sector.
- And that's even before you take into account the brave men and women of the Imperial forces stationed in Correlia.
- Absolutely right - it would take more than a few Rebel fighters or even privateers to face up to the Imperial Navy or our Stormtroopers! The Rebel Alliance can talk the talk, but they almost certainly can't walk the walk - and luckily our boys...
- And girls, Gadon...
- Thanks Jerris! Our boys - and girls - in grey can!
- Well hopefully that's reassured our viewers that they're perfectly safe, and won't be murdered in their beds by the Rebels. Why not lets know what you think? Blip us using the hashtag #RebelScum and we'll share a selection of your blips on our next show!
- For now that's it for Correlia in Focus: INN's regular round-up of news in your area! I'm Gadon Kreel...
- And I'm Jerris Tarask. Goodnight!
Credit - Hedge
Yeah, in the series Boba is dying 'cause his cloned replacement leg is failing again and his liver, I think, is failing, so he finds Jaing Skirata to get the injection that will save him. In the series he is in the mid-70s, I think, and he thinks to himself that he has at least 2, maybe 3 decades left to live, if I remember correctly.
Edit: I found the quote: 'I'm going to be dead within two years. I'm seventy-one. I should have another thirty in me, at least.' - Boba Fett, from Karen Traviss' book Bloodlines, 2nd in the Legacy of the Force series.
In the rules booklet it states that squadrons distance 1 from each other are engaged. Where line of sight is traced through obstacles (i.e. obstructed), the attacker removes one die from the attack pool. Where does it say that obstruction leads to unengagement? I'm not trying to argue, I am only curious, since I can't find the reference.
Ah okay, thanks. Also, I kind of figured that that was your reason, as it was the only one that made sense (that I could think of), and probably something that I would have done myself, had I been in a similar situation.
In fact, come to think of it, I was in a distorted mirror of the situation: During my first game I acquired a reputation as the kind of driver nobody would hire even if they were in desperate need of a pilot and I was the only one on the planet. During this game I was maneuvering an AFMII in front of Redemption, but I miscalculated and repeatedly rammed both ships into each other for (I believe) 3 turns, eventually culminating in the death of both ships, the AF to two volleys, Redemption to one volley, of enemy fire.
Edit: pt106: Good point, and also a well-timed one, as I am currently thinking of incorporating it into several fleet builds I have in mind, and was beginning to quite like the card. . .oh well. At least it's only one point. . .