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Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Sleeping Dogs
Stardate: 57608.54
March 31, 2381
0630hrs

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai| Squadron Mess Hall “The Den” | Fighter Assault Bay  | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy]
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att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife

Khorin sipped the last drink of his hot cocoa before he rose to his feet. He had arrived early, he knew that, but after all that had happened he would not refuse a meeting with Razor. Nor could he give any cause of complaint about his behavior. Not after the time in the brig, the time in counseling... Not after his wings were cut off. After all that has happened ...he had barely seen the seat of a fighter a couple of times, mainly to circumnavigate the planet and return to the lair as soon as posible. And this only to check the fighter systems when the rest of the pilots were too busy to take care of the maintenance of the Valkyrie 08. He had been training, on the holodeck and in the gym, as expected. But it had not been the same. Not by a long shot.

The Klingon dropped the empty cup into the replicator, pressed a couple of buttons and turned his feet toward the locker room. The conversation he had had with his mate still echoed clearly in his mind. He had wanted to hide all this from her. He needed to see how things were going before he could either return home victorious or hide the whole thing under the carpet, depending on how things were. But it was impossible to hide anything from Zeph when they were tuned in as they were. Still less when she had much more experience than he did in how to conceal one' s thoughts. Khorin, both outside and inside his mind was loud and straightforward and the betazoid had not needed three seconds to find out that something she may not like was going was going on. So they had had a conversation that Khorin would not wish to repeat in his mind. One full of 'or else'.And yet there he was, recalling it over and over again as he put on his boots, sat on the bench in the empty room. He wouldn't disappoint her again. Not if he could do anything about it. Even if it meant fighting against what every cell in his body shouted at him to do.

A few minutes later, he was ready. The memo he had received had stated that he should report to the FAB in the statutory exosuit, so Khorin struggled to look his best on it. He even had tied his long mane over his nape, and he even had kept his underwear under the suit...just in case.

By the time he stepped into the FAB at last, 3 minutes before the scheduled time, Ravon was already there. In front of him there were two pilots Khorin barely knew, two of the squad's new acquisitions. The Klingon had seen them on different occasions, while he loitered in the Den, as he tried to find out what was going on in the pack without being able to fully belong to it. The Alpha Wolf seemed to be issuing some orders to the women. Maybe some advice. The Klingon noticed how the corners of his lips began to tighten. Khorin held his steps back for a few seconds and struggled to turn the grimace that threatened to form on his lips into his trademarked side grin. "Just let sleeping dogs lie" he murmured to himself just before he recovered the pace of his steps.

"Khorin Douglas, reporting in" he roared as he reached the little group, with more confidence than he really felt. What would the Alpha Wolf be up to?

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #1 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Stegro88
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Isel had arrived with Donna well before the time they had been instructed to arrive at the FAB, and had been suited up in her flight gear and listening to Razor as they waited for the fourth member of their patrol to arrive. As Isel stood and listened to the Pack Leader, the Vulpinian craning her neck back to look up at the man, she couldn’t help but wonder how the tall fucker even fit in a cockpit.

Isel knew she was short, diminutive being the word she preferred. Or petite. Petite sounded cute. Donna was not petite, standing quite a bit taller than Isel herself. Not that that was hard to do. But Razor, well… the man was about as far from petite as it got. The giant bastard stood head and shoulders taller than Isel and leaving the Vulpinian wondering is she should go borrow one of the ladders from the fucking maintenance crews so she wouldn’t have to tilt her fucking head so far back to listen to the guy. The though reminded Isel of the growing kink in her neck from looking up at him for so long, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she rolled her head from side to side, feeling the muscles in her neck protest as they worked and stretched.

Fucking tall people… Isel grumbled mentally as she returned her head to a neutral position, opening her eyes to peer back up at their SCO. When she fixed her gaze on him again, she saw that he seemed tense, the corners of his mouth seeming to draw more tense lines on his face. For a moment Isel wondered is she’d accidentally grumbled about tall people out loud, but then the Vulpinian noticed that the SCO was gazing over her rather than at her.

That was when she heard a voice booming from behind her, the sudden loud noise causing her to curse and jump slightly.

”Khorin Douglas, reporting in.”

Isel turned and found herself staring at the chest of a very large flight suit. Craning her neck once more, she gazed up at a scraggly looking face which topped the flight suite at an even greater height than Ravon.

More fucking tall fuckers…

The face was scraggly, true, but it was the forehead drew her attention. Those ridges were unmistakable, especially coupled with the overly obnoxiously loud noises which emanated from the man.

Ugh… and Klingon too… Isel inwardly groaned as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. He better not be braying like a mule this whole flight…

”Khorin Douglas? Let me guess… your callsign is... Loudmouth, right?” Isel asked in a voice which dripped sweet sarcasm as she smiled up at the behemoth. Isel turned and glanced at Donna then, giving the woman who held her heart a wink. ”Hopefully we don't run into any trouble out there. With him here, any raiders will hear us a fucking sector away!"

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #2 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife  @Stegro88 

Having drafted his pilots for an unscheduled patrol mission, Razor stood in the fighter assault bay as he looked at both Donna Petterson as well as Isel Nix. The two female pilots standing in their exosuits as they all awaited the arrival of the final member to complete the squadron. He had asked them how the transition went aboard the new ship, showing interest in their new assignment and wondering how they were getting alone professionally. There had been whispers of the two pilots forming a couple, though it didn't exactly matter to the SCO. Not unless it would prove a problem on the job. Whilst it had been a few days ago since the incident, Ravon had not forgotten the outburst of the Klingon. Having suspended him from active duty, today would be the first day he'd reinstate the pilot. Mostly to observe if he made any progress or if he still proved the be the volatile powder keg that he seemed to be not so long ago.

Ravon's exosuit seemed to be a rather tight against his flesh underneath as the SCO preferred to not wear anything underneath. In case of an emergency, the suit would protect him, though if for example his suit would be damaged or melt, he'd rather have no fabrics of tissue caught in between. Just wearing his underwear underneath the suit, the pilot felt at ease and confident yet he was pacing idly whilst waiting for Khorin Douglas. He wasn't late yet and even before the deadline would tick away, the large Klingon appeared in sight and presented himself for duty.

Miss Nix seemed to nearly jumped as she hadn't seen him coming. A curious thought wondered through Thomas' mind as he wondered if the Vulpinian would be able to smell him from a distance. The thought causing for a smile to appear on his lips faintly as his eyes remained locked with the Klingon.

"At ease Douglas." Ravon replied before Isel opened her mouth. The eyes of the pilot switching to the petite woman as she seemed to test the waters. Seeing how far she could tempt the Klingon into giving a reaction. Ravon could've intervined in the banter, though he simply looked at Khorin to see how he would react. Everything would seemingly be a test for the Klingon now to see how he'd be able to hold up. Awaiting the response he simply chuckled lightly before raising his voice.

"Alright, enough. We're here to do an additional flight mission that isn't on the books. Picked up a certain signal at these coordinates and we've been honored to go and check it out as Klingon and Aldeans operations are swamped. We'll do a basic sweep of the sector and report back any problems. Standard issue load outs are allowed, so don't pick anything too fancy. Questions?"

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #3 –
[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Fife
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“0630 is way too early for me to be awake today,” Donna thought to herself as she shifted in her exosuit. The call had come through that the SCO wanted her and Isel for an unscheduled patrol mission. When Donna had asked about the reasons for the mission, she had simply been told to report to the FAB where she would be briefed. With no other recourse, the pilot had dragged herself out of bed and showered.

Now, she sat stood with her wingwoman and the SCO as they waited for the fourth member of their flight to arrive; Ravon enquiring about how they were getting along. Pertinent to his role as the SCO, Donna thought, but perhaps a little late given that it had been 3 weeks since they joined the ship. Something else was distracting the man, Donna noted, while wondering where Ghost was. She wasn’t usually late. It was then that she noticed the Klingon, Khorin Douglas approaching and the pieces began to fall into place.

“Well this should be an interesting morning,” Donna observed silently as Khorin bellowed his arrival. Isel didn’t seem to have noticed the Klingon’s arrival, Donna noted, more from the annoyed tirade that escaped her lover’s lips than from the slight jump. Donna was content to stay silent for the moment, only nodding a greeting at the man. “Stars, I have missed Isel letting rip. It’s been too long.”

The other curiousity was in Ravon allowing Isel to needle Khorin. She had heard rumours that the two males didn’t get along; even a few interesting stories. But so far, she had nothing concrete to backup her data; until now. Eventually though, the SCO ended the two’s discourse and proceeded to explain why they were all there.

“Simple enough,” Donna noted casually. “Patrol an area, report anything out of the ordinary. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Two questions,” Donna spoke up, when the moment came. “One, why are we doing this and not the flight already out on patrol? I didn’t think it got that exciting here that everyone got busy. And two, what’s the story between you two. You’re overly tense and he isn’t Ghost,” Donna pointed out, choosing to be brusque rather than circumspect.

It was too early in the morning for her.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #4 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Fighter Assault Bay  | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy]
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att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife


Khorin stood firm with his eyes locked at Ravon until the SCO gave him the command to be at ease, failing to supress the faint tension in the corner of his lips.. And even with the diminutive woman over whom he loomed, never ceased to scold him as a minuscule rodent would complain about a targ stepping on her abode.  Yet as soon as he was allowed to loosen his stance, the Klingon glanced down slowly, REALLY slowly. When his stare finally met Isel's uneven eyes, he made an exaggerated fuss, as if it were the first time he had been aware of her presence.

"Wow! Now you welcome little girls into the squadron, bossman?" he asked in a mocking tone, accompanied by a burst of laughter. "My callsign is Hardtop, of course," he explained, waving a gloved hand over the pronounced ridges on his forehead. He then used that same hand to ruffle the petite woman's white hair. "What's yours? Midget? TinyTot? ChuSwI'?" He teases her at the same time that he messes up her hair more and more with each new nickname, whilst a deep laugh echoes deep in his chest.

When he leaned forward to bring his bearded face closer to the woman's, he found that the female's face had acquired a reddish hue, as if she was just about to explode. "Look at you, you're truly cute, so angry, are you ready to have a tantrum little babu?" he remarked. "Listen, if there are any raiders on this system and we are bound to find them, we' ll announce our presence at two parsecs away. After all, if the fight is not even, is too boring." He joked, his voice full of klingon bravado. Of course once in the cockpit Khorin would save his comments to the squadron's private channel. And he would keep a standard voice pitch... by his standards. After all, being Klingon and being unnoticeable were almost complete antonyms.

After the whitehaired woman's retort, Ravon proceeded to explain briefly the particulars of the mission, which led the Klingon to shift his attention momentarily to the SCO. As soon as the human male had finished his speech, the second present woman raised some questions. The smile that had blossomed on the Klingon's lips during the episode with Isel soured on his mouth at the final question. For a moment Khorin looked up again to Ravon and held his gaze steady in his pale eyes. Douglas inhaled deeply, which made the joints in his suit squeal softly before he made a response, anticipating his rival.

"I can not guarantee why I'm here, but as for what's between me and Alpha Wolf..." Khorin paused briefly, his gaze clinging yet on Ravon's, almost challengingly. "I committed a transgression against the squadron's discipline and the bossman adhered to the procedure and sent me to the shade for a few days and reduced my flying time to a minimum, as the regulation specifies." he replied formally. Khorin was aware that it had been his chance to discredit Razor, if he had so wished. Spreading the word that he had sent the Alpha Wolf to the sickbay would cripple the squadron's discipline and erode Ravon's authority. But Khorin had had plenty of time to think lately. Both in the brig and after, in the long hours of tedium convicted to stay away from his fighter. In his talks with Zeph and with the counselor he had been assigned. This time he would do things in a different way. Or at least he would try, no matter how much the mere presence of the human male aroused his jealousy. He had to do better. For Zeph.


chuSwI' -> a type of rodent native to the planet Qo'noS. ChuSwI' live mostly underground and make an annoying noise. Because of this nature, "chuSwI'" is often used as an insult

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #5 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen @Stegro88 @Nolan
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Isel listened as the massive moron who stood before her corrected her guess that his callsign was Loudmouth. It was, in reality, Hardtop. ”Hardtop? Ok, yeah, that seems fitting.” Isel said as she looked up at the towering Klingon, her voice deceptively sweet. With so few braincells, you’d need a thick skull, wouldn't you?” Isel smiled sweetly up at the ridgehead. That smile vanished as a large hand landed on her hear, ruffling her white hair. Isel’s arms hung loose at her sides, her mismatched eyes staring straight ahead as her face coloured fiercely with a mixture of anger and shame. The Klingon continued speaking, his deep voicing booming from high above Isel’s head as he mocked her, calling her a number of variants of short.

The fool Klingon seemed to loose some of his bravado as Donna asked why he was here, the mountainous moron not being Ravon’s usual wingmate, Ghost. Isel watched as the Klingon locked eyes with Ravon for a moment, the Vulpinian wondering what that beef between the two was. She had heard whispering of a scuffle between the SCO and one of the pilots, and this oversized blowhard certainly seemed the type who might pull such a thing. Khorin resumed his raucous manner of speech, claiming that such matters were between him and the Alpha, going on to admit that he had committed a transgression of some sorts. Isel stopped listening at that point, growing tired of the Klingon’s boastful thundering. She had just turned away, the Klingon’s voicing falling silent, when she felt it again. A hand on her head, her hair becoming increasingly disheveled as the Klingon’s hand went about it’s work. Isel locked eyes with Donna as strands of white hair danced about her field of vision, the Vulpinian’s eyes flashing with a mixture of mischief and danger.

With a sudden flash of movement, Isel spun about to face the Klingon, white hair swirling around her as she moved. The Vulpinian’s hands darted upward, grasping the Klingon’s larger wrist and holding on as she hopped, her feet launching her upwards to bring her mouth closer to that offending hand. Long, prominent canines flashed.

An audible crunching noise could be head by the group as Isel found her mark and the Vulpinian’s sharp teeth sliced their way through skin. Isel could taste blood as she felt the skin give way beneath her vicious teeth, the Klingon grunting in what she assumed was a mixture of surprise and pain. Isel hung on for a moment, her teeth holding firm as the Klingon tried to pull his arm away, the tugging motion putting a strain on the Vulpinian’s neck until she finally released the lummox’s limb.

Taking a step back, the diminutive pilot grinned sweetly up at the Klingon, her teeth stained red with Khorin’s blood. ”How’s that, Arsetop? Not bad for a TinyTot, huh?” Isel turned and spit on the deck beside her in an attempt to clear some of the blood from her mouth. Wiping her lips on the back of the gauntleted hand of her flight suit, Isel glanced back up at the Klingon. ”You taste like shit, by the way.”

Turning away, Isel closed the distance between herself and Donna, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist and directing a red-tinged grin up at the woman who held her heart. She imagined she made quite a sight, blood still staining her lips and hair a wild rats nest of tangles following the Klingon’s disturbance. ”Heyya lover, fancy a kiss?” Isel joked with a giggle, though the smile faded as she glanced over at the SCO standing right beside them. ”Uh…” Isel let her hands fall away from Donna as colour flushed her face once more and she turned to face the SCO properly, wringing her hands slightly behind her back. ”Sorry, sir. I’ll be good.” Isel wished she hadn’t been wearing the flight suit, the urge to swish her tail striking her. ”Flight mission. Off the books. Investigate a signal. Klingons are lazy. Sweep the sector and report back. Standard loadouts, all the torpedoes! Got it!” Isel grinned up at Lieutenant Commadner Ravon, inwardly praying the man had a sense of humour. ”So are you being winged by Arsetop, sir?” Isel glanced to the side, giving a green-eyed wink to Donna before turning her attention back to the SCO.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #6 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife  @Stegro88 

Whilst Isel and Khorin kept their little teases between them, Ravon's eyes shifted to Donna as she pointed out two questions. Viable questions to ask yet curious to ask in the particular situation. Ravon kept silent for a moment before he replied "The other flight is patrolling an entirely different sector, it would prevent them from completing their scheduled patrol run for today. We're assigned to this mission since a freighter went missing in this particular sector. So there is some haste in the matter." he informed Petterson before he looked at Khorin. It would seem that the tension between them was in the air, palpable even "Correct, he isn't Ghost. As for why he's here, I have my own reasons for that."

Khorin took the word though as he openly admitted to the transgression made against Thomas. Razor simply nodded to Khorin before Nix seemingly got tired of the Klingon's pickings. It all happened quite fast and whilst Thomas could do nothing to prevent it, he simply watched the scene unfold before hearing the sound of jaws being clenched together accompanied by a crunching noise. Surprise was the general feeling that Ravon had as Nix had actually bitten a pilot of her squadron and Ravon wondered how Khorin would react to it. Sure he'd be in the right to have an outburst now, yet in which way he'd do so would be interesting.

Isel returned to Donna for some reason, be it comfort or to show off. The latter seemed to be more adequate before she turned to Thomas and perhaps came to the realization where she was and what they were supposed to do. She apologized and Ravon's face remained stoical and at most at the edge of displeased with the outcome of their gathering "Nix, I'm not the one you should apologize to. In fact, I wasn't aware that I was running a pack of kindergarten pilots." he snapped at Isel before looking at Khorin as both were to blame really "Can you fly with that hand or do you need a stop at medical first?" he asked the Klingon professionally. Awaiting Khorin's reply he turned his attention to Donna "Lieutenant, if there aren't any more questions, please keep your wingwoman under control. Whatever is going on between the both of you isn't my concern unless it affects pack cohesion." he said before taking in a deep breath "On that note, you're all dismissed. Get to your fighters when ready and sound off when ready to launch." he concluded.

He didn't wait to hear their replies as he simply turned and marched off to his fighter. He would have to find a suitable sanction for Isel's outburst after this mission, even though Khorin perhaps had it coming. Regardless, it was too early for this shenanigans or crap like this. Even for the SCO. He hoisted his helmet over his head and climbed into the fighter as he ran his pre flight checks and contacted control about the imminent launch of their flight. He awaited the sound offs and when he got all of them he spoke up again "Alright standard formation on my lead. Keep the chatter to a minimum and lets get this show started." The fighters taxied and launched out of the Theurgy's safe confines and chose open space as they made their headings and hasted their way to the sector they were to investigate.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #7 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Fighter Assault Bay  | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy]
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att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife


It all moved on very quickly and, before Khorin was truly aware of what had happened, he had a tiny woman fiercely biting his hand. Apparently the midget was armed with a sharper tooth than he had imagined. The Klingon snarled between insulted and aggrieved in an almost instant, which only grew deeper when the woman released her prey and pranced away from him with the tiniest and most satisfied hops. Khorin clasped his wounded hand, to prevent further bleeding. Some of his blood dripped onto the airdrome floorplates. Something inside him bubbled outraged, crying out to awaken an anger that had always been on the verge of overflowing him since he had come back from the Versant. Khorin's eyebrows dropped heavily over his eyes as his gaze remained pinned on the derisive white-haired woman.

"You know TinyTot..." he started to say with a nasty growl. "That such a thing on my Homeworld would be an invitation to have a good time in the sack" he chuckled and lifted his bearded chin proudly. "I'm flattered but I'm afraid I'm a taken man," he added with a thunderous guffaw. "And, by the way, my taste is delicious, but your taste is on your butt, you goddamn poodle" he teased her as the woman embraced her wingmate in an unprofessional manner. Khorin raised his eyebrow and his grin grew even wider when the diminutive woman finally realized where they were and echoed Ravon's words in her own way. He didn't seem overly impressed by the woman's sudden return to professionalism and preceded to scold the white-haired woman. The Klingon glanced at the young woman with a shit-eating-grin on his face as he rubbed his wounded hand. That tinny pilot was a pain in the ass, but it was clear that she wasn't easily frightened. For the moment Khorin was fond of her.

Shortly thereafter, Ravon talked to him and all the good humour he had achieved through his dealings with Isel suddenly vanished at the very moment the human asked if he was in need of medical help. He thought he was so feeble?. "I'm fine," Khorin claimed in defensive fashion as he released his hand. "It's just a scratch, some stuff i'd ate for dinner has bitten me harder than she did," she boasted pointing to the white-haired pilot. In doing so, two droplets of blood joined the rest that pooled at his feet. Ravon limited himself to acknoledge his answer with a nod and Khorin clenched his wounded fist against his side.

From that moment on, the conversation became more business-like and soon the Alpha Wolf dismished the pack to get ready to launch their fighters. Without waiting that any of the pilots would say anything, Razor turns on his heels, expecting that his commands will be fulfilled as soon as possible. Khorin stared his back for a short time and only then realized that he had clenched his fist so tightly that it rested on his side with white knuckles and numb fingers. It was instinct, he was aware of it. Half of him yelled that Ravon was his challenger and he must defy him and kill him. But it was not the right thing to do. Not on Starfleet. And Khorin had made a promise.

When the SCO had walked a few strides away from them, the Klingon spun back to face the two women, his features garnished with a broad smile he didn't fully feel. He approached them slowly and the friendly expression did not leave his face at any time. When he was at their level, he gave Isel a cordial punch in the shoulder, one that, if they both had not worn the flight suit, would have made a mess of Isel's shoulder bones. "Keep your pet on a short leash," exclaimed Khorin as he glanced at Donna, "...or she may end up in a Klingon's bed with a less understanding man than her flirtation" he added before he put on his helmet, spending just enough time to introduce his ponytail inside the suit.

A few minutes later, he was inside the cockpit of his fighter. Now it was Wolf-08, but for him it had always been the chIS cha'par, the white bird. His hands moved on the boards with the expertise that gives the practice, although everything seemed to be a little closer than usual, everything seemed a little shorter and tighter and too responsive to the pressure of his fingers. But Khorin cared nothing. It was true that HE had changed, and he was different from the last time he had ridden a valkyrie. After all, he weighed more, had a different proportion of muscles, and his senses were slightly different at the time. It was just a matter of getting used to it. So it took him a little longer to prepare for the departure than he was used to, but he was still within the expected time for a Tacc Con Pilot. Certainly, in those moments he would be among the slowest of the leaderboard and surely Isel wouldn't take long to bark something at him through the radio about his ass being too heavy to move at a nice pace, but Khorin didn't care. Inside his helmet, he smiled.

 The pre-flight checks ran smoothly and shortly after Hardtop heard Razor's subsequent orders. "Roger" he simply agreed before he cut off the call again. That they should keep the chatter at a minimum was almost a blessing. That way he could avoid screwing up with that big mouth that was his trademark. The alpha wolf flew smoothly from the FAB and Khorin followed him immediately afterwards.

And, again, he was back in his bird, in the big black.

Khorin indulged in a moment of insubordination as the remainder of the squad left the hangar. A moment to enjoy his newly recovered wings, even though they were still under supervision. He made a barrel roll and traced a wide spiral before he placed himself in his assigned position, near Wolf-01's tail. Barely a minute of free flight, a playful frolic as he got the feeling of the controls again. Well, maybe it was just a bit of a show-off, but who cares? The feeling of the bird under his command was delightful. Khorin howled for joy in the solitude of his cockpit before he activated the trusters and herd the fighter docilely into position. Perhaps his flight had not been as smooth as it had been before the Versant. Maybe his fighter was flying a little wonky with respect to the rest of the formation. But Khorin had wings again, and in those moments, the rest mattered little to him.

The rest of the journey was practically uneventful. A straight line towards the orbit of the seventh planet, Telea. According to the flight plan they would stay quite far from Telea itself, but something in Khorin's brain tried to remind him about something relñated to the planet close space. Why did he remember the name of that planet? He had the feeling that it was something important, something that had troubled him in the past. Perhaps when he had studied the system in M'Kish's office alongside Stark? Or maybe it was a useless fact that he had memorized in his myriad of hours condemned to wander like a grieving soul through the Wolf Den. He knew it was important, but he couldn't remember why. So, like so many times, Khorin pushed that thought aside for when he could think about it. Or forget it.

Soon they plunged into the area that Razor had tasked them to sweep for the freighter or its remains.

There was nothing there. There were no debris or signs of battle or... nothing. Khorin's sensors detected traces of vessels of various sizes across the area but he was unaware if that was a regular convoy transit point. Perhaps some of those traces were significant, but as far as the Klingon knew there was nothing of significance in the region. "This is oddly familiar," he muttered, following the thread of his own thoughts. It didn't matter, that would be of concern to the future Khorin.

"Yo, Hardtop to Razor, have you brought us to hunt unicorns? There's nothing here," he inquired via radio to Alpha Wolf.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #8 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Stegro88
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Isel heard the Klingon tell her that, on his world, a bite would be an invitation to sleep with someone. She turned a withering gaze to him. ”Yeah, well, on your world I probably would only have to bathe once a month, so let’s just be glad we aren’t on your world.” The Klingon went on to inform her that he was flattered, but that he was a taken. Man. ”A taken man, eh?” Isel replied, grinning up at the massive mountain of moron. ”That’s great! I’m happy for you! Is she blind? Because she’d fucking have to be to love that mug!”

Isel’s tail had drooped towards the floor as Ravon berated her, then asked Donna to keep her wingwoman under control. Isel glanced at Donna with an apologetic expression as Ravon dismissed them to their fighters. Isel suspected this wouldn’t be the last she’d hear of the incident, trouble seeming to be something the Vulpinian had a knack for getting herself into. As the SCo stalked away, she heard the thumping noise which signalled the Klingon was approaching. She turned, regarding him with a suspicious expression. He approached with what she suspected was supposed to be a friendly expression, though he didn’t quite pull it off. She knew for sure that there was nothing friendly about the situation when his fist thumped into her shoulder, sending her staggering back several steps. Isel thanked the fact that she was wearing her flight suit, otherwise the punch would have likely landed her in sickbay. The Klingon told Donna to keep her pet on a short leash, adding that her behavior might land her in the bed of someone less understanding otherwise. Then the Klingon raised his helmet, fitting it into place as he turned away to make for his fighter.

”Fucking Klingons.” The Vulpinian muttered as she watched him go, her mismatched eyes glaring daggers at his back as he moved away. ”All muscle and mouth, and not a lick of brains beneath those fucking ridges.” Isel turned, looking at Donna. ”Speaking of mouth, I’m sorry Donna. I didn’t mean to get you in shit too.” Isel hefted her helmet, tucking her hair inside and fitting it into place. ”Well, let’s get this fucking shitshow on the road, hey?” With those words, Isel turned and made her way to where her fighter sat, climbing into the cockpit and running through her systems checks and sounding off when everything came back green. She moved her fighter forward as the others taxied into position, Isel’s fighter bringing up the rear, and waited until she was given the signal to push her fighter forward towards the stars.

As her fighter cleared the FAB, Isel saw one of their number off doing loops, rolls and spirals off some ways in the distance, and she had little problem imagining who it was as she brought her fighter into position in the formation. A moment later, the frolicking fighter formed up as well, And Isel glanced around and regarded the fighter, her face obscured through the helmet’s visor. She saw the fighter bobbing a bit, the wings wavering with tiny corrections. The movement stood out clearly against the smooth flight of the other three fighters, and Isel keyed open her comms to the Klingon pilot. ”Hey Arsetop, your fighter might wobble around less if you’d stop wagging your fucking mouth so much.”

As they moved through the area they were patrolling once again, going through another search of the area, they came up with a whole lot of nothing. There were no ships. There was no debris. They was absolutely nothing of interest. ”Just like every other patrol we’ve run since getting here…” Isel muttered to herself with a sigh, her eyes glancing over her sensor readouts once more. She heard Arsetop call out to Ravon, asking if they were chasing unicorns. The question brought the hint of a smile to her features, the Vulpinian keying her mic open. ”I’m with the moron on this one, Razor. We’ve been over this whole area, and I’m getting nothing on…” Isel’s voice trailed away as she saw the briefest blip on her sensor readouts. She reached out and punched commands into her console, concentrating her fighters sensor sweeps on the area where she had seen it.

”Wait one.” With those words, Isel keyed the comms channel closed and directed her full attention to the sensors. ”Where are you, you sneaky little…” Isel’s voice cut off as she saw the blip again, the faintest hint of a reading, nothing concrete. Keying open the comms once more, Isel spoke to the rest of the squadron. ”This is Wolf-04. I’ve got… something on sensors. Just a faint flash of a reading once in a while. Could just be a sensor ghost, but if the freighter we’re looking for is low on power it could be that their distress signals aren’t powered enough to be readable from this distance. Sending the coordinates now. It looks like it’s coming form near Telea.” Isel keyed the mic closed and pushed the suspected coordinates to the other pilots, waiting to see what Razor wanted to do with the information.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #9 –
[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife @Nolan @Numen
[Show/Hide]


Donna wasn’t sure if Isel spoke Klingon but she certainly did and bristled visibly when he referred to her love as a rodent. She was about to step in when Khorin reached out and ruffled her hair as if she were a child. That was a mistake. Isel was not the most controlled of beings in the first place, but referring or referencing her height as a deficiency was a one way trip to pain. As delivered Vulpinian style. The Klingon’s on bravado would be his undoing.

Ravon’s answers to her questions, along with Khorin’s interjections regarding himself did little to settle Donna’s unease with the situation. Too little information on a mission at the last minute and all set against the backdrop of a powder keg that was Klingon politics in the region. Rumours and innuendo abounded, especially about several of the larger houses with interests in the region; the Mo’Kai’s in particular. She had no proof of anything, but Donna also didn’t have the resources she once had. Still, it was enough to make her suspicious of all Klingons.

Isel finally got sick of Khorin’s meddling, another hand on her head being the final straw and Isel snapped, turning instantly and jumping up to seize the offending limb in her fangs with an audible crunch. If it wasn’t so serious, Donna would almost laugh at the image of someone so short hanging by the teeth from the overbearing Klingon. Still, this was Isel taking a piece out of a fellow wolf and that was not a good thing for squadron cohesion, not to mention the mission at hand. 

“Careful, she bites,” Donna remarked rhetorically when Isel finally released him. She smirked as her lover taunted the brutish pilot before turning to her, asking for a kiss. “Wash your mouth first. I don’t like the taste of Klingon males.” And that was when Isel remembered where they were when she turned to the final member of their quartet; their SCO, Commander Ravon. Donna said nothing as he rebuked Isel and check on Khorin’s condition before turning to her lastly, advising her to keep Isel under control. Khoring couldn’t let it go however, and after Ravon had departed, opened his big mouth again.

“Khorin, who Isel sleeps with is her business. And if she chooses to involve leashes is up to her,” Donna commented calmly, before her face and voice hardened to something more akin murderous than friendly. “But threaten either of us again and you will find out that somethings just won’t grow back. Do we have an understanding?” Khorin’s response was unheard as he put his helmet on. Donna followed suit and headed towards her warp fighter.



The flight out had been a quiet one and Donna had passed the time thinking over everything that she had heard and discovered about the situation between the Klingon Houses in the system. And no matter which way she rolled, pressed or punched; the information pointed straight towards a coming storm. What that meant for the Theurgy, she wasn’t sure. She was about to ask Isel for her opinion when her wingwoman cut her off, announcing that she had found something. The call pulled her back to reality and Donna bundled away everything else to focus on the situation at hand.

“Copy Wolf-04. Receiving coordinates,” Donna said, altering her course slightly to close the distance with the target area. Sure enough, there was…something, there. “Leader, this is Wolf-03. I can confirm Foxfire’s reading. There is a positive signal at the target coordinates. Too far out to get anything from it, however. Standing by.”

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #10 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife  @Stegro88 

So far their search in the sector seemed to be fruitless as there was nothing on their scanners that indicated anything gone wrong or out of the ordinary. Was the intel they received misinterpreted or just wrong? Khorin was obviously the first one to yap about it. Ravon's rolled his eyes as he looked around for anything out of the ordinary, only to come to the conclusion that this perhaps was just a ghost hunt. He didn't even bother to waste his breath on the Klingon's remark and instead continued the course they were heading.

After the initial break in radio communications miss Nix was the next one to call out as she seemed to agree with the Klingon before her message was interrupted as she did in fact pick something up. Ravon's eyes darted to his own scanners as they too registered the faintest of signals. He sat more upright in his cockpit as he narrowed his eyes. Chance confirmed the read outs and the squad awaited further instructions from him now. He rolled his tongue against his teeth as he thought about how they should go about it.

After a few seconds he spoke up "Alright, Chance, Foxfire, make your way to the sensor reading double time. Report back to me when you find out what it is. Try to not get engaged in combat unless you get fired upon first. Hardtop, we'll fly around in a broad arc and make our approach from a different angle. Just in case. Follow my lead. Razor out."

He powered the fighters engines up to a maximum and hoped that the Klingon was quick enough to catch up with him. His eyes followed the other two fighters as they trailed off to the target coordinates.

OOC: Sorry for the long wait! Hope this helps you all along.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #11 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Wolf 08 | Sector 46  | Somewhere close to Telea | Epsilon Mynos System]
[Show/Hide]
att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife

Almost as soon as Khorin shut his mouth, Nix opened her biting jaws to... support him. Khorin chuckled inside of his helmet and was just about to open a channel to join the banter when the white-haired woman cut off communication again. She reopened it just seconds later, acknowledging a probable scan of the missing freighter. Chance verified the signal shortly thereafter and the Klingon frowned and focused his attention on his scanner readings, while he pointed his fighter's nose in the same direction of the two women. For a few seconds, he received the same feedback as before. Nothing. Nada. None. But, after a moment, there was something flashing on his display panels. It was hardly detectable, not even enough to indicate whether it was a small shuttle in distress, the freighter they were looking for or a bloody space station. But the thing is, it was there. At least that gave them something to do besides dusting off their fighters for a while.

Soon, the signal location flickered on his screen thanks to the triangulation of the combined sensors. Shortly thereafter, Ravon issued his orders, dividing the small squadron into two groups: while the women would head straight to the signal, he and the Klingon would make a detour to approach from another point. That would also allow them to sweep more space and detect any ships that may have been hidden from their sensors so far. It wasn't a bad plan at all.

"Copy, Alpha Wolf." He promptly replied. With little to discuss at the order, Khorin simply tracked Ravon's trail and moved away from the Chance and Foxfire, expecting a chance of discussion during what would predictably be a routine flight. Nevertheless, before they lost sight of each other team, Klingon opened a brief communication with Wolf-04. "Don't let the unicorns bite you out there, Tiny Tot," he quipped. "You owe me a spar session back in the Den, just to settle our differences," he suggested, not ill-intention in his voice. So far, Isel had proven to be someone whose company the Klingon could learn to enjoy. And he needed to bond with his new squad mates.


[Later]

The minutes ticked by slowly as the two lone fighters scouted the empty sector 46, flying in a wide parabolic move towards sector 47. Khorin felt more at home at the controls of his bird, his flight more consistent and much less woobly. However, just as on board the Kut'luch, the pilot was under the same impression that he had had on the old B'Rel: the vessel reacted oddly to his actions, so did the slight Valkyrie. It was as if his hands and his reflexes were working at a different speed than they had previously, his reactions out of tune with the precise movements he had internalized to operate the craft. Everything was wrong. His hands sometimes moved too fast, and if Khorin struggled to match the pace he was accustomed to use while flying, the effort made him slower. It wasn't something especially noticeable in those moments, idly patrolling through empty space but... during a dogfight? Those split seconds could mean the difference between life and death. Both for his companions and for himself.

Yet that wasn't the loudest voice in Douglas's mind. And as much as he tried to push 'that other thing' away, it kept coming back to the front of his head over and over again. Finally, Khorin sighed and punched the console to open communication with his flying partner. "Hey, Razor." he said with a stiffen tone. "Drop it all at once, will you? Lets not jerk around any longer. What do you want?"


OOC:
Okay! Writing order: First Fife, Steg and finally Nolan.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #12 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Wolf-04 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Stegro88 @Nolan
[Show/Hide]
Isel throttled up her fighter as Razor issued his orders for her and Donna to double-time it to the position the sensor readings were originating form. As Isel brought her fighter into position off Chance’s wing, she opened a comm channel to her Element Leader. ”The signal is still shit, cutting in and out.” Isel muttered, knowing Donna would be able to hear her low grumbling as it was piped into her helmet. Taking her eyes away from the sensor readouts, Isel spoke at a more normal volume. ”I can’t get a lock on it, though that gas giant might be fucking with the sensor readings. We’ll have to wait until we’re closer to Telea before we can pinpoint it. What do you think it is? Missing freighter? Something cloaked? Space junk?” They had a ways to go, and the intermittent blips of the sensor ghost hadn’t cleared up yet.

Isel sighed and tried to narrow the area of her sensor sweeps, her eyes alternating between the sensor displays and the view through the cockpit’s canopy, with the occasional glance over at Chance’s fighter. ”The other night was fun.” Isel said, killing time as they closed the distance to Telea. ”I don’t usually like fancy dress uniform shit, but that palace was swanky!” Isel chuckled throatily to herself. ”You didn’t look half bad in that dress uniform either, Donna! I tell ya, if you stopped slummin’ it with mutts like me they might make you an Admiral or some shit one day. You’d get to dress all sleek and sexy all the time!” Isel laughed, though she’d kept her eyes on her task as she’d spoke.

A few minutes later they were drawing near enough to Telea that their sensors should have been picking up a much more clear reading.

The reading remained a flickering ghost on her readouts.

”The fuck?” Isel muttered, running a quick diagnostic of her sensors. All green. ”I’m still getting nothing. This thing just doesn’t want to be found. If it was that missing freighter, it should be reading a lot clearer since we closed the distance…” Isel raised her gaze, her eyes scanning the rough area where the sensor ghost seemed to be popping in and out of existence. ”We’re in Sector 47 now. The KDF star charts we were given have got this area marked as restricted and hazardous for flight.” Isel said as she checked her nav readouts. ”There’s nothing here though. Sensors aren’t picking up any asteroids, anomalies, fluctuations, wormholes, distortions…” Isel peered at her sensor readouts once more. ”Fuck, this place doesn’t have any hazards that I can pick up.” Isel made another visual sweep of the area. ”Wait…”

Her eyes had settles on Telea, the gas giant which they had been approaching. More specifically, they have focused on a small dark spot visible on the gas giant’s horizon. ”I think I’ve got something, bearing 352 mark 019. Sensors still aren’t seeing it, even if I can.” Isel adjusted her bearing to take her closer to the… whatever it was. ”That thing’s pretty big for out sensors not to pick it up…”

A minute later, Isel tapped in several commands, bringing out a visual display on one of her screens and pushing the magnification to try and bring the object into focus. ”I don’t know about you, but I’d say that looks like a factory station.” Isel called to Donna, her eyes staring at the object which seemed to be orbiting Telea. Then, keying over her comms to include Razor and Ares-top: ”This is Foxfire. I’ve got visual on what appears to be a factory station orbiting Telea. Looks like the kind of ugly shit the Klingons would build. It’s still not visibly to sensors, and I don’t think it’s got anything to do with planetary interference.” Isel peered at the thing as it grew larger on the magnified display. It looked like an almost cylindrical core station, with what appeared to be a small habitation ring at the base, multiple storage tanks for whatever they were extracting from the planet, and a small docking ring where a vessel which was familiar from their briefing was currently docked. ”And I spy with my little eye, something that sure as fuck looks like our missing freighter docked at that station.” Isel was tempted to arm her weapons for a moment, though stayed her hand. No point in risking an incident with the Klingons, or bringing Razor wrath down on herself any more than she already had. ”Now what do you suppose a station that’s invisible to sensors is doing way out here in an area the Klingons said was hazardous to fly in?” Isel mused aloud, her tone one of mock naivety. ”You don’t suppose they were trying to hide something, do you? Like the fact that they had some sort of operation extracting something from the gas giant?” Isel chuckled. ”Hey, maybe it’s their secret ingredient for that piss they call ale! What do you think Arse-top?”

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #13 –
[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Wolf-03 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Fife
[Show/Hide]


"How much did you drink that night, Isel?” Donna asked her wing mate as they glided through the void. “I was wearing the dress and you were in dress uniform, you vixen,” she reminded casually. “Don’t you remember pointing out how you could almost see my tits through the fabric?” Donna remarked, shaking her head gently at the memory. “As for being an Admiral, well, I think we can kiss that career goal goodbye after what we pulled.”

The moment of levity was nice but it didn’t last as they crossed into Sector 47. On their charts, as supplied by their Klingon hosts, it was marked as restricted and hazardous. Donna figured that since they were out here at their behest, then they wouldn’t care about them trespassing. Checking her sensors, idly thinking how embarrassing it would be if they flew into something stupidly, Donna’s gut started telling her that something wasn’t right. The sensors were showing nothing but the same ghost signal they had been tracking.

Isel had noticed the same as well and was telling her all about it over their element channel. Donna was running diagnostic of her sensors, something she was sure that Isel had already done, when the Vulpinian’s voice brought her head up, announcing, something, on a bearing of 353 mark 019. Glancing at her sensors, Donna could detect nothing from that direction but visually, using the old Mark 1 Eyeball, there was something definitely present right on the edge of the gas giant Telea’s horizon. 

“I agree with your assessment Foxfire,” Chance commented, her attitude changing to full pilot as her gut continued to squirm. Something definitely wasn’t right. “Better report it in,” she advised, switching to the Flight channel to listen as Isel did just that. Big arse factory in a restricted area of space that wasn’t listed. Why wasn’t it cloaked? And what was obstructing it from their sensor view? 

Once again, the Vulpinian’s predatory nature and gifts beat her to the punch as Isel spotted their prey, the missing freighter, seemingly docked with the station. Which begged the question, if the Klingons had it listed as missing, but it was docked at one of their stations, why send them out after it? Unless, it wasn’t one of their stations!

“Chance to Foxfire,” Donna called, breaking into Isel’s badgering of Khorin. Now wasn’t the time. “Cut your engines, I have a bad feeling. We’ll slowly drift closer until Razor and Hardtop get here.” She wanted to ready her weapons, and her gut was screaming at her too, but she held off. This was an unknown situation and weapons fire tended to complicate matters rather than solve them. Several more minutes passed and Donna began to wonder if perhaps they should call for more help. It was a random thought but her unsettled gut latched onto it like a limpet and wouldn’t let go.

“Foxfire, change of plans...” Chance began before her systems tagged a new contact, then two. “Tally, I have two bogeys approaching from bearing 317 mark 045. They just appeared in the middle of my screens. Distance 1.3 million kilometers and closing rapidly on an intercept course. I repeat, I have two, wait, I now have four bogeys approaching from bearing 317 mark 045. Now six bogeys closing. Distance 1.25 million kilometers and decreasing rapidly on an intercept course.”

“This is all wrong,” Donna thought to herself. “Popping up like that, where the hell did they come from? The station?” As the seconds passed, and they grew closer, more information began to trickle in. “IFF reads as a friendly Klingon vessel but I don’t recognise the design. Looks like they are about the same size as a Klingon Phantom but the shape is all wrong. And they are faster too.” Her gut screaming at her, Donna opened a comm channel, making sure to include everyone else so that they could hear.

“Approaching ships, this is Wolf-03 representing the Klingon Defence Force, please identify yourself,” Donna requested calmly. “Being here, this close to Aldea, they had to be friendly. Right,” she thought to herself. “I repeat, this is Wolf-03 representing the Klingon Defence Force, please identify yourself.” “No response. And the range is now down under a million kilometres. Much more and they will be within weapons range. I don’t like this. Three to one odds are terrible in a dogfight,” she thought, switching back to the flight-only channel.

“Foxfire, I don’t want them within 500,000 kilometres. Let's back off,” Donna ordered, bringing her fighter around. At Isel’s acknowledgment, Donna advanced her throttles, bringing her warp fighter up to speed; something that did not go unnoticed by the advancing ‘friendly’ craft. “Shit, bogey’s just increased speed. Closing very rapidly,” Donna commented, concern itching into her voice as she recognised the situation she was now in. “Fuck, I have just been targeted. Repeat, I have been target-locked. Bogeys are bandits, I repeat, bogeys are bandits. Request weapons free,” Donna announced loud and clear, knowing that even with permission, she and Isel were the rabbits to the foxes; turning to fight would be a terrible choice. A new shrill sounded in the cockpit, one the made Donna’s heart skip a beat.

“Incoming torpedoes!” Chance voiced. “We have 6 incoming torpedoes. Deploying countermeasures,” she commented as she triggered off the devices. Leaving 4 of them in her impulse wake, Donna checked her sensors. “New contacts, bearing 187 mark 045. Read 4 more bandits on an intercept course. Foxfire, alter course to port. Put them all behind us,” she ordered before turning her own fighter to an escape vector.

“Razor, Hardtop, report your position,” Donna requested, trying not to sound as distressed as she was feeling right at that moment. “I repeat, Razor, Hardtop, please report your position. We could really use the help right now!”

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #14 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Wolf-01 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife  @Stegro88

Watching the the fighters break off from formation and slowly disappear as he didn't magnify his optics to track them, Thomas looked back ahead and checked his sensors as his HUD still indicated where Chance and Foxfire were heading to. In the meantime it left Khorin and Thomas alone, a situation that could be volatile and unchecked if either of them snapped. Khorin opened up comms to Thomas as he called out what he actually wanted from him. Razor's eyes slid over to the symbol of Khorin's fighter on his wing as he paused to answer the question.

"What do I want?" he repeated the question "I want your full focus on this mission obviously." he replied with a tone that would inform Khorin he should know better than to ask. Their ships began to make their curve as they closed in to the signal now as well, however faint it was "Besides that... If you're asking me about what I want from you or Zephyr. I don't want anything. Sure it hurt and all that since I love her, yet... You're the one she's chosen for and I've come to peace with that decision now. I suppose that what I really want from you... Is that you treat her like the most precious and valuable thing in this world. The kind of thing where you'd disobey orders for to save her. To lov-"

Ravon's talking stopped when Chance's message broke through as she reported herself as part of the Klingon Defence Force. There wasn't any panic in her voice though, yet something was off about it as the IFF's were picked up on Razor's screen. His eyes narrowed as he magnified as much as he could to see what was going on. He couldn't quite make out the incoming ships yet he saw Chance and Isel turn round before bolting it out of their. Why they did so was clear when Donna's voice began to call out the targeting, weapon locks and torpedo fire.

"Showtime. On me Hartop, time to get our hands dirty." he said calmly as he bared his teeth and punched the throttle to maximum. The Valkyrie responded perfectly to Thomas' command as it banked right and rocketed off to the fleeing members of his squadron "Peterson, Nix, we're inbound on your location. We're 20 seconds out, lead and engage. We ought to pop up on their tails with our current heading and vector." he communicated before he armed his weapon systems. The scanners showed them still outnumbered, though he hoped the speed and element of surprise would even the numbers rapidly.

Time crawled by slowly as ever before the right tones of weapon locks began to hum and tune through the cockpit. The ship chasing Donna was the first to get locked on. At full speed two torpedoes were fired from Razor's craft. The first one missed the target due to the countermeasures and whizzed past Donna's ship with just a few meters to spare while the second one detonated right where it had to. "Scratch one. Come on! Show these aggressors what it means to engage Starfleet fighters."

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #15 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Wolf 08 | Sector 46  | Somewhere close to Telea | Epsilon Mynos System]
[Show/Hide]
att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife


 "I want your full focus on this mission obviously." Ravon answered Khorin's question. The Klingon groaned inside his cockpit, and he rolled his eyes before he peered back into the other fighter through the glass pane that protected him from the void of space.

"loQ 'ay' veQ" grunted Khorin to himself, as he vented his frustration with a blow to the panel in front of him. Consequently the fighter heeled slightly to starboard and Khorin had to spend the next few minutes keeping the slender vessel in position, reversing its tendency to deviate from the route marked by the Wolf Leader.

A part of him knew that Razor was right, he SHOULD be focusing on the mission, if there was really a mission to be accomplished. But they were simply combing an empty sector of space looking for the pilot to screw up. And the Klingon was well aware that every time he opened his mouth he lost a point... and yet he couldn't stop trying to know...

His hand hovered over the pannel that would allow communication with his wing leader three or four times and, on each occasion, Khorin pulled his hand away at the last second. Fucking Ravon and his mindgames.

Finally, Ravon spoke once again after what seemed like an age to the Klingon. "Besides that... If you're asking me about what I want from you or Zephyr. I don't want anything. Sure it hurt and all that since I love her, yet...
" Khorin leaned forward, mindful of the words, while holding his breath. "You're the one she's chosen for and I've come to peace with that decision now. I suppose that what I really want from you... Is that you treat her like the most precious and valuable thing in this world. The kind of thing where you'd disobey orders for to save her. To lov-" The human failed to finish the sentence, as a second message overlapped him.

It seemed that Foxfire and Chance had found... something... and that something had added problems. No less than ten hostile vessels. Razor commanded that the squadron regrouped and both men put their fighters at full speed to reduce the distance between them. It was barely twenty seconds of tense silence, no chatter, the engines at full throttle humming inside the cockpits. The search mission had suddenly turned into a rescue mission.

As the distance to their companions shortened, the enemy craft began to blink on Khorin's screens. One, four... ten. The design was obviously Klingon, its greenish profile and sharp edges clear against the golden light that Telea projected. However, the Klingon had never seen a ship with such a design. It was something... new and different. Something in the back of his mind tried to draw attention to the Hardtop, there was something about that design, about that location that he knew. Something fundamental that he had to remember. Something important.

But he couldn't waste time trying to remember it.

Not now.

Several missiles traced their precise trajectories against Chance and Foxfire, most of which were dodged or exploded against the countermeasures. One of the missiles scratched Donna's tail, but Ravon wreaked revenge against her attacker with a well-placed missile. Khorin then attacked, adding another hit to the damaged ship, which was left drifting in the middle of the battlefield.

The enemy fighters seemed to organize, splitting into two unequal groups. The larger group continued to hunt down Foxfire and Chance, while the remaining four fanned out to confront Khorin and Razor.


loQ 'ay' veQ → Little piece of garbage

OOC:

First of all, I apologize for taking so long to update, truth is that I'm a little blocked at writing level and I'm losing my pace.

In this round: free posting order, feel creative for postrait the battle, you can deactivate or destroy as many enemy vessels as you want BUT they will keep appearing to overcome the Wolves. The last person to post, please, leave your fighter about to be impacted by 3+ missiles, without any chance to avoid them...Have fun!

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #16 –
[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Wolf-03 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Fife
[Show/Hide]


When the first fighter detonated behind her from Razor’s torpedo, Donna pulled back on the throttle while flipping her fighter back over itself. With her orientation reversed, Donna advanced her throttles once more, slowing her fighter’s inherent velocity away from her pursuers before sending her directly at them. Offense was the best defence against a pursuer so she had been taught; the trick was been finding the opportunity to turn the tables. Razor had seen to that.

“Foxfire, form up tight and arm everything,” Donna said as she reached down to do the same. 6 Mk XXVII Photon Torpedoes, and a pair of each of Hellbores and Hellhounds; a full load of ordnance but half of it ineffective against her targets. Checking her sensors, she now saw that they had 8 targets in front of them as the 4 craft that had been on an intercept course turned away to engage Razor and Hardtop. “Let’s see how many we can get in the first pass,” she added. It was a dangerous move, going head to head against a superior force but their only other option was to go to warp and try to escape back to the Theurgy. And now that their packmates had engaged, that wasn’t really an option now either.

“I’ll take the 4 on the right,” Donna declared as she began assigning target locks. She wasn’t going to be stingy either; each of them was getting a photon torpedo as well as a pair of micros. Depending on their shield status and effectiveness, well, they just might be in with a chance. “Ready. Fire!”

Wolf-03 vibrated gently as weapons were deployed and sped away. Donna though didn’t have the time to follow their tracks as her systems began to warn her of incoming fire; a lot of incoming fire. Now it was a dogfight. The only determination yet to be made was how vicious it was going to be. But she was a wolf. And she had her pack.

“Break down and hard!” Donna directed, deploying countermeasures behind her as she brought her fighter down along the Z-axis of the initial engagement. If they were lucky, most of their incoming would be tricked by the ECM modules left directly in front of them. “Alright, let's see how many are left for......”

Wolf-03 rocked violently and Donna was thrown about so forcefully that her head hit the cockpit canopy despite her restraints. She heard Isel’s voice in the distance but couldn’t make out what her lover was saying. Blinking her eyes to try and focus them, she glanced at her systems to check her status when she noticed that while they now only had 5 fighters pursuing them, 2 more had appeared from nowhere. 

“Wolf-03 to Wolf-04,” Donna called to her wingmate. “I’m here. Hurt, but here,” she added as she ran her eyes across her cockpit displays. “Shields are down to 15% and I have lost power to most of my starboard RCS,” Donna reported. There was more but that was the worst of it. 

“Yeah.”

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #17 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Wolf-01 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen   @Fife  @Stegro88

The initial pass had been rather successful as one ship had detonated behind Chance and Foxfire. Ravon's eyes were fixed on his HUD, looking at the various red signals moving about as the sound of lock ons began to fill his cockpit. Nothing new there and for a moment, Thomas caught himself actually smiling at the situation. After so much peace time, he'd almost forget how much he missed the action thrilled situations like these. Nothing like what they'd serve you on a simulator, yet pure raw action. Of course if they'd screw up here, there adventure would end with death in space.

The fighting quickly became more intense as torpedoes and phaser fire lit up the screens. Razor's fighter stalked a few more ships, disabling them or bringing their shields down before inevitably having to turn away as his own stalkers were close on his tail. There was no denying that the fighters they were opposing were good. Not the best, but with their combined numbers they were ruining the easy walk in the park.

"Wolf zero-one, I need sitreps." he called out to the rest of his pack, his eyes tapping away at his instruments as he was about to send a message to the Theurgy for additional reinforcements. It would take time for them to reach them, though it was their best chance of survival as the hostile ships kept crawling out of the woodwork so to speak. Just before he could send the message however his long range communicator took a hit and jolts sparked in the cockpit "Fuck! Can anyone message Theurgy for additional fighters or support? My long range comms are fried." Another direct hit from a torpedo shook his ship around and made him spin for a second as he fired up his thrusters  to break out of it "Come on wolves, is this all you're made off? Has R&R made you all toothless?" he tried to rally his wolves.

He deployed countermeasures for the next set of torpedoes that were headed his way and he tried to locate Khorin as their best chance was to stick closer if they wanted to stay alive "Come on Hardtop! I could use some assistance here." he grunted as the explosions around him made the ship bounce around and sub sequentially had Thomas shake around violently in the canopy.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #18 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Wolf-04 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Stegro88 @Nolan
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Isel saw the flash and felt the impact of phaser fire on her shields even as the readout on her HUD showed the slight drop in shield integrity. Gritting her teeth, Isel glanced over at where Chance had been off her wing, though saw the space empty. Toggling the suits TVD, Isel craned her neck in time to see Chance’s fighter flipping to face their pursuers just as Donna’s voice chirped in her helmet. ”Foxifre, form up tight and arm everything.”

”Roger that.” Isel acknowledged, pulling up hard without slowing her fighter. After a moment of sharp climb, she rolled the fighter and pulled the nose up further, bringing about and putting her on course to intercept Wolf-03 with her fighter inverted. Punching the engines, Isel sped forward to form up on Chance’s wing, tapping commands into her console as she went to arm the full weapons array, the loadout of which was identical to Donna’s. ”Coming in on your six, Chance.” Isel called, quickly rolling her fighter to port to avoid an errant torpedo.

”Roger.” Isel confirmed as Donna designated targets, the Vulpinian’s lip curling into a silent snarl behind her helmet as she waited for the lock tones. She heard Donna give the order to fire, though she’d already released on of her torpedoes, the ordinance streaking off to seek it’s target. That target wasn’t quick enough, the proof of which showed in the blossom of fiery death which bloomed for but a moment before being snuffed out in the vacuum. Isel rolled to port again, deploying countermeasures to confuse the pair of torpedoes which had a lock on her, and pushing her nose downward to avoid the ensuing explosion. Pulling herself back on Donna’s wing, Isel released another flurry of ordinance, scoring two more hits on the enemies, though only one proved fatal. Isel had just righted her position off Donna’s wing when the call to “Break down and hard” came, pulling a growl form the Vulpinian as she moved to follow the directions. Isel’s fighter shook with an explosion not far off, and Isel pulled her fighter into a tighter turn to distance herself from the damage.

Glancing though the floor of her cockpit with the TVD, Isel saw Wolf-03 showing signs of significant damage. ”Chance, this is Foxfire.” Isel called out over their Element Comms. ”Chance, come in.” Gritting her teeth at the lack of reply, Isel called out again. ”Fuck! Answer me, Donna! Are you ok?” Isel didn’t have time to hang about, pulling her fighter around to line up with a bogey that was moving in on Chance’s fighter, looking for the easy kill. Isel’s phasers sent the incoming enemy craft veering off it’s attack run, and a moment later her torpedo took it in the aft quarter and ended the threat.

Then she heard Donna’s voice, hearing a slight strain in her tone. The damage report wasn’t promising either. Shields dangerously low, down a thruster, and injured. Not good. A quick glance at her sensor displays showed another torpedo streaking towards Wolf-03, and Isel quickly sent her fighter spinning about to take aim at the incoming explosives, the G-force of the maneuver pressing her hard against the restraints of her cockpit. She fired, the phasers lanced forward, and the close-range explosion rocked her inside her cockpit, though the shields held.

She heard Razor calling for someone to message the Theurgy, though a quick glance at her readouts showed that that last explosion had damaged her long-range communications. ”This is Foxfire. My long-comms are fucked too. Chance, Hardtop, can either of you get that message out?” She saw Razor and Hardtop on her sensors, though didn’t move to join them, instead staying near Chance’s limping fighter to cover her Element leader. ”Donna, we need to try and get some distance between you and these fucks.” Isel called, her head moving as though on a swivel as she scanned for more threats. ”I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to cover you…”

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #19 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Wolf 08 | Sector 46  | Somewhere close to Telea | Epsilon Mynos System]
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att: @Nolan @Stegro88  @Fife


As soon as Razor and Hardtop arrived at the other wolves' location, they were drawn into a fierce battle. Blasts of torpedoes and countermeasures were in sharp contrast to the bright red and green of the disrupter shots. Below them, Telea and the station that orbited it hovered in space, unfazed, oblivious to the small drama that was unfolding over them.

The Klingon barely had time to reflect on the situation since soon there were two fighters on his tail. He made a sharp turn to starboard, then sank the nose of his vessel and quickly zigzagged in a wide arc parallel to Razor's course. When the wreckage of one of the enemies disabled by TinyTot or Chance helped him hide his silhouette for a few tenths of a second, Khorin deployed his own countermeasures and forced the Valkyrie to rise at a sharp angle... Or so he intended, as his hands and mind moved at different speeds. The countermeasures were thrown too soon, half of them crashing uselessly into the stranded wreckage. The subsequent explosion threw the rest of them against the Klingon fighter. With no time to react, Khorin broke through the fireball as his own weapons hailed his shields and he wobbled upward, almost flying off the same route he'd followed before... only in the opposite direction.

In just some seconds he was almost nose to nose with his pursuers, heading for an impact. One of the enemies sank the nose of his spaceship quickly, straying from its path only to receive what little remained of the countermeasures Khorin had deployed. The other stayed on course. Khorin moved his hands swiftly across the panels of his cockpit. The enemy fired a torpedo barrage against him. The WOLF-08 torpedoes left their lairs just a few steps away from their opponent.

There was a massive blow.

The remains of a fighter were thrown from the blast area.

A Valkyrie that was reeling slightly to port came out of the impact zone, its shields flashing in rapid succession under the shrapnel.

In front of Khorin, the situation consoles flashed in angry red alert signals.

"Wolf zero-one, I need sitreps." Razor barked across the pack channel.

Firefox soon reported that her long-comm was fried, as were the Wolf Leader's. Chance didn't reply. "Wolf zero-eight I'm bruised but in one piece, shields at 54% and dropping, but my long-comm is undamaged," the Klingon reported promptly. However, Khorin failed to deliver the message immediately to the Theurgy, as he was too busy attempting to get rid of the enemies that sought to reach his tail again.

A dance of weapons and spaceships started again, this time, not only in an attempt to get rid of those who were chasing him, but to assist Razor as well.

A low flight and another torpedo barrage later Khorin flew behind Razor, his wobbly craft covering the rear of the wolf leader.

A new supply of enemies became visible over the planet's horizon, ten new fighters undamaged, ready to wipe them out.

There were just too many of them.

Running away was dishonorable.

Calling for help was the last option.

But he had already burned all the remaining ones.

Khorin roared inside the cockpit and switched on the communication with the Theurgy.

"Mayday mayday, this is wolf zero-eight calling from..."

Khorin stopped speaking.

A dozen torpedoes aimed at Razor.

His shields could not withstand that.

Hardtop didn't think about it  twice. He pushed his thrusters to their fullest and placed his fighter's hull between the torpedoes and the vessel of the human he hated.

The first torpedoes just slammed into the shields, but there were just too many of them.

Too many.

"Baktag" barked Khorin as he still swung his hands over his cockpit panels seconds before both Valkyries were engulfed in a blinding blast.


OOC:

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Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #20 –
[ Lt Cmdr Thomas Ravon | Wolf-01 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife  @Stegro88

It was becoming quite clear that this battle was one that they wouldn't win without any reinforcements themselves. With long range comms down, Razor had to rely on his squadmates to get a message out. However, Nix reported that her own long range communications were knocked out as well. That meant that either Donna or Khorin would have to do it. Razo's eyes darted across the various screens in the cockpit before gazing out his canopy. There were just too many and he had positioned himself in a rather bad spot as the lock on signals seemed to exponentially increase.

"Fuck..." he whispered to himself as he turned his fighter into evasive maneuvers "Wolf One to pack, retreat from this battle at once!" there wasn't more that he could say as the lock on signals turned into incoming fire blares that would cause for a serious head ache if he would survive. Countermeasures were deployed, yet the torpedoes were coming from all directions. Out of nowhere though, Hardtop doomed up in front of his nose and was impacted by at least four torpedoes. Another four were distracted by the countermeasures as another four impacted around and onto Thomas' ship.

For a moment it felt like the impacts had deafened the pilot for a second, or it was just the sensation that time was going slower. The multitude of explosions had hit a few of their attacking ships and hopefully served enough as a distraction for the other two wolves to escape. Though it was unclear how Khorin was, was he still alive or did the impacts knock him out or worse? The alarms in his fighter reached the climax and eventually systems began to shut down due to leaks, and failures.

The fighter rocked and shields flickered out of existence as systems began to drop out one by one. The engines sputtered and eventually sublight engines faded out of power as his weapon systems powered down and comms were the only thing left alive along with basic life support. Thomas bashed his fists against the instruments as he looked around to get a look where Khorin was "If anyone can read me, I'm dead in the water... Khorin probably saved my ass, I can't see him. Get out of here if you can! Systems are failing here. Razor out." he unfastened his straps which allowed him more space to turn around. He could see Khorin's fighter drifting just behind his tail section "You fucking Klingon... Why the hell did you do that." he cursed to himself as he saw the hostile fighters circle them, though not swoop in for the final kill. He turned around again to see where Donna and Isel were, hoping their escape would fare better.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #21 –
[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Wolf-03 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Fife @Nolan
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“Splash another one, Foxfire,” Chance called out as she watched the broken shards from one of their enemies’ fighters pass by her cockpit. Luckily, it was a target rich environment because for every craft they destroyed, another two appeared to take its place. The odds were getting worse every time she looked at her sensors and Chance couldn’t think of a way that she and Foxfire were going to make it out alive unless she got some good news rapidly. The mournful tone that signified the end of her diagnostics cycle forestalled any further hope.

“Foxfire, this is Chance,” she called out over comms to her lover nearby. “I have some bad news. I can’t make it. Warp drive is down, and I am losing engine power. You need to bug out while I cover your escape.” Isel response was garbled but her tone was clear enough. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Foxfire, you need to leave. Razor and Hardtop are disabled, and I can’t jump. You need to bring the help back. Thea herself if you must. But you are the only one that can. I love you. Now GO!”

Her message delivered, Donna shut down her comms and engines and routed all of her available power to her shields. Next, she began selecting targets based on proximity to Wolf-04 and began to launch torpedoes with an almost reckless abandon. Barely had one torpedo left the tube before another was following behind it.

She only had one job; cover Isel’s escape.

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #22 –
[ Ens. Isel “Foxfire” Nix | Wolf-04 | Sector 46 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Numen @Nolan @Stegro88
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Isel grinned as she watched another target erupt in a flurry of exploding debris, though the smile had much more of a grim aspect to it than she would have liked. The simple fact was there was no way they could win this fight. For a hidden station, the facility orbiting Telea seemed to be throwing out a surprising number of fighters.

No wonder the fuckign Klingons had labelled this area of space hazardous. They just left out the tiny little fact that they were the hazard.

Isel’s mind was pulled away from that thought as he fighter shook with another impact against the shields, which were holding but were still taking a beating.

”Fuck, there’s too many of them. We need to get the fuck out of here.” Isel growled to herself, sparing a glance at the sensor readouts to see where the other Wolves were in relation to her. ”These fucking ridge-headed assholes are everywhere!” She was about to key open her comms to Donna when the Human beat her to it. Isel pulled her fighting into a tight corkscrew to evade incoming fire as she heard Chance speak, not liking the words one bit. ”You’d better be fucking kidding me, Donna! If you think you can blackmail me and drag my ass across half the fucking quadrant, then bail on me and die like this, you’ve got another thing coming!” Isel snarled back, biting her tongue in the process as her ship was rocked by a glancing torpedo impact. ”Fuck!”

Donna continued, seeming not to have made out what she’d said, or simply choosing to ignore it. Razor and Arsetop were disabled. Chance was unable to go to warp. Isel was the only one who could get reinforcements. Things had gone form zero to fucked in about five seconds flat. She heard Donna tell her she loved her, then heard the comm line go dead. ”Donna! Don’t you fucking die on me, you hear me?” Isel snarled, wheeling her fighter about to avoid another barrage. ”You’d better survive this, because I’m gonna kick your ass later for fucking making me do this!” Isel looked out of the canopy of her fighter at Chance’s fighter, which was drifting as though dead in the water but still managing to fire, and then gritted her teeth, cursed the woman within, and punched hastily punched in the coordinates for Aldea.

A second later Chance, Razor, Hardtop, the enemy fighters, and the chaos of weapons fire disappeared as her fighter jumped to warp.
 

Re: Day 21 [0630 hrs.] Sleeping Dogs

Reply #23 –
- FIN

OOC Note from GM: It has been established in Right of Vengeance that both Khorin and Ravon were briefly locked up by Administrator M'Kish and Gorka after this altercation, but General Chu'Vok arrived and bailed them out with a threat that Martok was coming, and that the two Klingons had not acknowledged the direct orders from the High Chancellor. The nature of the facility in the Sector remains largely unknown, but as hinted by General Chu'Vok, it was related to the development of the Klingon cloaking technology. That's pretty much all that's known. I leave it up to Nolan to fill in any blanks about the brief time locked away by the Klingons, since Numen has left the sim.
 
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