Training was coming along. Also the house they were living in, but it still needed more repairs. That Xander guy was a big help, even if Dean didn't care for how the guy would sometimes stare at his brother too long. It was weird, and he'd be apologetic about it as he'd get back to work. But it's weird. All the one eyed guy would say would be how he knew the other Sam and they worked together against the Yeerk. The very idea of his brother being possessed again by something evil... that was worse, and reminded him too much of the possible futures he kept hearing or seeing. Sam saying yes. Like he was always going to bend over to Lucifer for one reason or another. And Dean had to allow it. Just sit back like some useless bitch while everything falls. Well hell with that, hell with the damn future for that matter. He hoped Adam was in the pods perhaps, and maybe his old man. At very least Mikey can't have them take his place.

Or you can accept your destiny, Dean.

Crap, he could do without the background commentary. He needed a drink or something to fight. He was half hoping Vader would show up somewhere so he could go kick his Sith ass. Be better than contemplating how much his future will suck if they get their world back. Eh, screw it, he needed to practice or something. He checked the time. Hunter class was yesterday, so he was free and clear there. He hated using the Sensoriums but it did work for training purposes. Like the hunting sim he rigged up a few times.

Now, time for something different. Cas was probably poking around the hydroponics. As long as he was just growing herbs and weed and not trying to partake anything narcotic, it seemed like a good idea. Gave him something else to do. Just like what Dean was doing. Keep moving, keep busy. Fight and bury the thoughts down in the hole.

Today's practice didn't involve a gun though. It involved a longsword. His old man gave them some pointers about bladed weapons, and an overview just in case. But most of their battles involved guns and bigger weapons. Still, better to be diverse as possible.

Arha had decided to ignore a chunk of her strengthening exercises and wander into the Hydroponics section with the express intent at harvesting seeds and young plants for her garden in the city.  That was not quite true, she supposed, she had abandoned the planned exercises.  Currently, she had about five bubbles floating around her, each bearing a seed or young plant.  She still ached in twinges when she held the Force thusly, but all in all, she was healed.  Arha had been surprised at the sheer length of time it had taken before her mind had healed--her Force use, especially.  But then, she had done it a great deal of damage.

She reached to cup a strange flower and watched its petals spread, bright orange with a wash of black ringed spots, glossy with gathered moisture.  It was a cup-shaped flower, squat, with a bright blue stem. She let her fingers trail against its petals, murmuring softly.  She nudged her way past a tangle of growth and into a darker space where she found  thousands of palm-sized glowing blue-white lilies.  She gathered seeds from some and a few dozen juvenile plants.  The space was nearly overcrowded with them as it was.  The added plants to her collection of bobbing spheres was enough to make the warning twinge surface.

Arha managed to work her way out of the semi-jungle and took the moment to sit underneath the shade of an oddly shaped tree.  Her purloined plants bobbed as they cleared the tangle and drifted toward her.  It took delicate work to pull them from the area without damaging anything--them or the area.

It was better than the routine she'd worked  out for her day.

This week the recruits were greeted to the sight of the sensoriums transformed into a jungle. A hot, miserable, and humid jungle. So like any other jungle on any other planet, in just about any other universe. Laid out in a clearing will be their blaster rifles, along with a full combat load, and a pack. They'd also find their orange jumpsuits replaced by appropriate combat uniforms. Kyle himself was already loaded up in similar fashion, and prepared to go.

"The scenario for today, recruits, is that we've completed an engagement with the enemy during a long range patrol in this lovely tropical locale, and are now moving to our extraction point. Enemy troops might be pursuing us, we don't know. Because of this, and enemy air activity there is a very narrow window for us to be picked up at the LZ. So that means get your gear, and get a move on!"

Kyle leads them through the jungle for a time before he moved behind some trees, and slipped out of their sight. He's replaced by a replica from the sensoriums that continues along, presenting a perfect target to be eliminated by a skilled sniper from afar. Which is exactly what happened as his doppelganger's head snapped back from the rounds impact, and the body fell with a thud. It was a bit of a cruel trick, but now he could see how this ragtag bunch managed to handle things when left on their own.

[OOC: Kyle will be hiding, and observing the recruits to see how they react, and pull themselves together. Also he has deliberately not established where the chain of command goes should he be taken out. He wants to see who can lead, and who can follow. It's also a test to observe whose ego still needs some adjustment. So argue, and bicker away as your characters please, that's the whole point. Kyle will also be triggering enemy attacks for them to respond to, and even might have brought in a couple of other people to assist him in harassing the recruits as they make their way to the LZ.

Vader was not impressed by the hangar.

Outwardly, he was unmoved, and inwardly he was floored, but he would not ever admit to being impressed by the rows of ships, many of which he'd never seen before. He walked down each row as impassively as though this were any normal Imperial muster, only pausing to examine something that caught his eye if he felt like he was free from the gaze of spies.

Instead of the usual parade grounds today the sensoriums was set to a forest that would be considered quite lovely if it didn't have a very intimidating looking obstacle course dropped in to the middle of it. Once again Kyle set himself at the head of the formation, and paced as he spoke. "Alright recruits today we have one of my favorite activities. An obstacle course. Time for you to show us that all that PT we've been doing hasn't gone to waste. Now I know some of you are thinking this won't be much of a challenge for you, and you would be correct. That is why we will be assigning you a partner for this excercise. Do not leave your partner behind under any circumstances. If you do you will both be running this course again. You will not cross that finish line alone. The teams will be as follows."

"Aznable you're with Soryu. Barnam you'll be paired with Jule. Asuka team up with Axl. Finally Yamato, and Lash. Everyone got that? Good fall out, and get on the starting line."

[OOC: Once the sub threads are up feel free to start tagging with your team mate through them. Kyle, and Trudy might pop in on a thread to comment, motivate, or yell at your pups. In general though this is a chance for the recruits to start building some teamwork. If there is a problem with the assigned partners let me know. I tried to have them be as cross canon as I could. Enjoy!]

Kyle paced as he waited for the new recruits to assemble. He'd had the Sensoriums replicate one of the old parade grounds at Carida for this introduction. It had been stripped of all the Imperial monuments of course. The academy had thousands of years of history long before the Empire so it was still a suitable place for inspiring young soldiers, or so he hoped.

Once the recruits had assembled they'd see a very different Kyle Katarn than they were used to. Gone was any of the relaxed mercenary clothing. Instead it had been replaced with the perfectly pressed uniform of an Academy instructor. Normally he'd never be caught dead in this thing, but he had a responsibility to the squadron to do this right. That meant standing on ceremony, and discipline including wearing of uniforms. Plus it was a classic image of Boot anywhere, and he didn't want them to feel they'd missed out somehow.

Once the recruits had arrived, and had managed to organize themselves into something resembling a formation Kyle began to pace in front of them. The heels of his perfectly spit-shined boots clicked against the stones of the parade ground. Finally he stopped, and faced them. "Welcome to Basic Training for Rogue Squadron. I am Drill Instructor Katarn for those of you who do not know me. Drill Instructor Chacon, and myself will be responsible for training all of you for the next six weeks. At all times you will address us as Sir, or Drill Instructor. If you do not there will be consequences. Just like there will be consequences for any other breach of military etiquette, or failure to live up to the standards we have set. Am I understood?"

"The following weeks are not going to be easy. Nothing worth doing is. You can look at as an opportunity to grow, and learn something, or you can complain endlessly. Either way I will make sure you graduate this course. I would like to take this opportunity to remind all of you that you are here by choice, and it is choice that is going to keep you here. You are free to step out that door, and quit at anytime. There is however no coming back. You wash out that's it. If you stick it out though, and push yourself to meet the standard you will become members of Rogue Squadron." He paused for a moment to look over all of them trying to lock eyes with as many as he could. They technically shouldn't be meeting his gaze right now being at attention, but if they were he wasn't going to say anything. It was a good sign he had their attention.

Stepping back he pointed to a pile of orange flightsuits. "You will form an orderly line, and each take ONE of these uniforms. You will wear it each, and every day you are in training. It will be clean each morning, but not pressed. It's a combat uniform, and I will not have any of you reducing it's effectiveness by doing that. After that you will see Drill Instructor Chacon to receive your blaster rifle. Don't touch the safety, or mess with it in any way unless told to. A negligent discharge will put you, and someone else in a world of hurt. Now fall out!"

Thrawn had gathered and reviewed every scrap of information Stacy had about the disastrous battle with the Ohm--every after-action report, every camera angle. Now, in the Sensorium, he was watching the skirmish unfold in three unsettling dimensions. It was a reconstruction, only as good as the crews' accounts and his own tactical skill. The latter, at least, was formidable.

Parts of the battlefield were empty, grayed-out in a literal "fog of war," where Thrawn had too little information to fill them in. They shifted and flowed as the fight progressed, crewmembers and Ohm disappearing into them and then popping back into existence where the records picked up again.

Gradually, however, the blank spaces were disappearing, as Thrawn ran various scenarios and decided on the most likely. Combat would pause, reverse itself, and then resume with tiny differences, again and again, as bit by bit, with infinite patience, the Grand Admiral recreated the battle to his satisfaction.

If he had any say in the matter, no confrontation with the Ohm would go so poorly again.

Wedge was tired. He hadn't slept much since they'd gotten back to the ship. He'd been busy going over recordings, sensor-readings and other data from their fight with the Ohm. And in between that he'd been checking up on Shinn in the med bay and moving furniture and other things into the headquarters. But this was important. Discussing what had happened, getting impressions from his people and speaking to them about it would be important. So he waited, leaning against the wall in the briefing room, which had been refurnished, along with the other rooms of the headquarters. At least no one was dead, right?

Everything was starting to get back to.. well it wasn't like it was before on the ship. Not after all that fighting going on and everything. For one member of the crew, unbeknownst to him, he had missed the entire thing because of one happy little people snatching AI. Needless to say the pilot wasn't going to be very thrilled once that little bit of information surfaced. One of the walls shifted, opening in to a dark black space as the orange jump suited man was tossed like someone had him by the collar of his suit and down around his waist.

Head over heels the man flew with his hands grasping hair hoping to catch on to some one or some thing before he crashed against the opposite wall had against his side. It didn't help any that he had one nice shiner already developing on his face. More bruises and aches were something that Gavin did not want to deal with.

"Thank you for your participation,. -subject name here-, must be the pride of -subject hometown here-. A mark has been placed on your official testing record. There will be cake in the lobby." Groaning the man glanced up just in time to see the wall move close.

The cake was a lie.

Trudy walked down the corridors with her general wide stride, her dogtags jingling and her rifle bouncing against her back. She'd slung it on the other side from her healing rib - which was also why she wasn't moving really fast. Of course, she was on her way to visit the ship that had kept her alive. She had to see what all those near-misses had done. At least scratched the paint, maybe more. She thought a shot had skimmed her astromech, and then there had been the blast that had crippled the Dart.

The hanger, unsuprisingly, was fairly busy. She figured she'd run into at least a couple of the squadron's mechanics, and probably even more of the squadron. It would be good to see the guys - and she especially wanted to talk to the General.

As she crossed over to her X-wing, she passed her Samson and paused. It was still in the same state it had been before she started training with Rogue Squadron. It took up a big chunk of her time, and getting caught up in the media library on her ship's specs took up the rest of it. "Sorry bebe," she said under her breath. "Guess I've left you after all."

She walked over to the X-wing, trailing her hand along its underside. It definitely showed that it had been in a firefight. There were a couple of blaster marks hellishly close to her engines, that made her start grinning like a fool. "Guess it could have been a whole hell of a lot worse," she said, tapping the cross around her neck. "Good on you, big man."

Dean never liked hospitals. Bad things always went down in hospitals. Especially death. And he thought he remembered briefly seeing that reaper Tessa, or maybe it was just a delerious dream from his injuries. No matter, once again he skirted death, and is living. Again. Awesome.

Still it took a while to really wake up from his injuries, combination of them and the lack of regular sleep. So it was some time while he healed that he woke up. He wanted to leave the medbay right then and there, but no dice. Even after cursing the EMH a few times. Stupid hologram, stupid medbay.

He was also wondering how his brother was, and he hadn't heard any updates about the Ohm battle yet. So the hunter was grumpy AND worried. So he hoped somebody better have some damn news.

"Come on, somebody give me my damn walking papers already!" What Dean wouldn't give for those sign out forms most hospitals had. This damn place never seemed to have heard of it.

During the last few days prior to their adventures during Shore Leave, Arha had been nudging around the city for places that were suitable for living.  Near the Vatican, she had found a damaged villa and had been able to begin the process of fixing it up.  There were times when the Force was a most welcome ally.  Where there was rubble involved, she found the practice of lifting it even more of a challenge than expected.  Lifting larger items was still not her strongest ability when it came to using the Force.

Chasing away the dust was the simplest of tasks, however, and marked the end of a long period of cleaning.  The small courtyard garden was clear at last.  Arha was pleasantly surprised to find that the large pots that had, at one time, housed trees and plants were largely undamaged.  There were a few chips, but such was all.  Only one had been destroyed, and she had found it a serious task to remove.  She counted herself lucky that she had the Force to fall back upon.  There was good earth under the rubble, this she found rich with moisture.  One could plant things in it and make them grow. 

( In which nothing happens save a bit of dozing. )

The battle against the Ohm raged on, and the casualties on the ground were mounting. Injured crew members got emergency treatment in the field, which largely amounted to patching them up so they wouldn't die sometime within the next fifteen minutes. After that, they were quickly picked up by shuttle and brought back to the ship, where they were sent to a medbay that was getting progressively more crowded.

The situation was growing increasingly dire, to the point that Stacy activated one of the AI's to help out.



"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

As soon as the Ohm appeared, Wedge had begun moving. He practically sprinted off the Obs deck, yelling at Stacy as he headed for the hangar bay.

“Stacy, I need our fighters prepped now..” He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead lifting his comm ring to his lips and speaking into it, the message transmitted across open channels to everybody in range with their own rings.

“Attention, Rogue Squadron. Scramble, scramble, scramble! All pilots report back aboard Stacy and to your fighters. This is no drill! Again, Rogue Squadron, scramble! All pilots to your fighters!” He glanced back at the others who had been close enough to the Obs deck to accompany him back aboard Stacy.

“This is it. We’ve trained. We’re as ready as we can be now. This is for real this time.” With that he headed deeper into the ship.

As he arrived in the hangar, he was already discarding the civilian clothing he’d picked up and was half-running, half-hopping across the bay to his fighter as he struggled into his flight suit. His helmet was waiting in the cockpit. He clambered up into the cockpit, kicked the ladder free to be caught by a tentacle and tugged his helmet on. No time for a walk around. He simply had to trust that the ship was in shape to fly. He keyed the comm system on the fighter, as well as speaking into the comm ring.

“This is Rogue Leader to all fighters. Launch as soon as you’re ready. Form up in wing pairs and engage the enemy. Our primary objective is to keep additional Ohm fighters from reaching the planet and from attacking Stacy. Fly your best out there, everyone. May the Force be with us.” With that he, began a quick-start check of his systems, and punched the throttle as soon as he was sure that his fighter wouldn’t explode when he launched.

“Rogue Leader is away, four lit and green.” His fighter slashed out into space, free of Stacy. And the Ohm were everywhere.

( OOC Stuff beneath the cut )

The reactor may have been saved, but the Ohm's primary purpose in overloading it had been achieved: the planetary defense network on Zokez II was now deactivated.

It was now the true invasion could begin.

A matter of minutes after the reactor had been saved, a number of vast, Ohm Leviathans appeared in orbit above the planet, some of them devouring those fleeing ships they could get their hands on.

Across all of the islands on the planet below, numerous shimmering lights appeared, and out of them poured hordes of Grunts, Grenadiers, Tanks, and all manner of other Ohm types. They swarmed over the cities, destroying everything in their path, and slaughtering anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in their way.

Wherever they went, destruction followed. Left unopposed, they would raze the entire planet without any effort.

But they are not unopposed.

It was time for the crew to finally do what they were Chosen to do.

[ooc: General Ohm fightyness! Check here before posting.]

Down in some seedier district deep mainland was an eyesore of neon flashing lights and reedy, trilling alien music that was, once you got used to it, pretty damn good.  It was called Sammy's Sideways Slam and, according to ever local with a half functioning liver (or alien organ equivalent), it served the best, most potent, insanely awesome drinks on the entire planet.  It was also a place were drunk fights went unnoticed, the barkeep knocked heads together on a routine basis, and his wife (Seela'leen and See for short) sang bawdy drinking songs in a voice that simply couldn't fit in her tiny three foot eight body.  Perched up on a counter, the green skinned, emerald eyed woman leaned back, her shock of white and cinnamon striped hair curing over her shoulders, and let another song rip as the band slammed into the appropriate song.

Hooting, the rowdy audience cracked glasses together and sang along.

Sammy's was swinging.



[[OOC: One seedy bar, open location down in the mainland.  Tag the main, tag your friend.  Get wasted, play Sabbac, poker, by smokes off the Gino the bartender, hit on Seela'leen, whatever.  I'll even NPC for you if you want.  I'm late with this post.  So late.  But whatever.  Rogues?  Arha's looking for you.  If you be Rogue, tag into the convo like it is a party, darlings.  She wants her pile of pilots.  if you want a separate tag, go'in do it. ]]

Arha had been staring at beds for a very long time--some were simple, some ornate, some were streamlined and flowing to the point where they looked like they had been grown.  There were large pods with lights in them, small pods, egg-shaped and fragile looking, there were wooden ones that were ornately carved with springy mattresses.  Some of the mattresses were dense and reminded her of thick futons she had slept on as a child.  They were rectangular, circle, slanted, square--some were even oval or bizarrely shaped to accommodate a range of non-humanoid species.  She found several that floated with their attached anti-gravity units and were easily moved, those, too, came in a variety of styles.

A nest of blankets would only go so far in the City, after all.

She brushed her fingers over a panel of carved oct-o-poozes and laughed softly.  There was still much to explore and she would have to consult her current bedmate on the matter.  Too, she would get another bed or two, for the small villa she had found and begun to restore, had enough room for more than Kyle Katarn and herself.  Arha consulted the funds she had barely dipped into and decided this was the proper course of action.  She would purchase beds with mattresses, pillows, and fine, soft linens, and a table or two along with a proper chest for clothing.  She had already decided upon Jed-Eye colors for the fabrics, soft sands, crisp whites, deep rusty browns, with soft, watery blue accents.  It was the beds she had trouble with.

Should they be round?  Square?  Rectangle?  That egg shape in the corner?  The attached table on that one?  Arha circled around the store once more.  

((ooc: Currently locked to Kyle Katarn - mostly only locked because I can't deal with more threads. XD Toss me a ping if you'd like some CR, though, and we can talk! ^^))

Resorts are not exactly Tay's thing, especially resorts where she can't carry any weapons. And she's not really taken by the idea of splashing in the ocean, or going shopping for trinkets, or anything like that.

So instead, she has found a currently empty stretch of beach and is testing her speed and reflexes, wings out, racing along the firm sand at the water's edge. She's been working in the Sensoriums, but having real ground beneath her feet, running down a real stretch of land, that's a lot better for gauging what she can and can't do, in her opinion.

Suddenly, the usual relative peace of the ship is disrupted by a rather loud announcement from Stacy.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

It's entirely likely that she won't stop repeating the announcement until, well, everyone reports to Obs Deck. The mouth in the huge statue on the wall opens, revealing a screen. On it, the dossier for the mission flickers into display, understandable to every person there. Smaller copies of the dossier appear in holographic form in front of everyone.

The planet's stats, right next to a rotating picture of it, blue with thousands of small islands just barely visible, are as follows:

( Mission Dossier )

--

...Waitaminute. That's no mission.

It's a goddamn vacation.

[ooc: SHORE LEAVE IS GO.]

Arha did not care if he did not wish her there.  She came with her hair loose, clad in her plantsuit, barefoot, empty handed.  This was not a lightsaber battle, nor was it one of any blade at all.  She had peeled the plantsuit up to allow her feet to dig in against the deck of the medical room, should she need it.  There was no steeling in preparation, she came open, her shields dropped and baldfaced before Vader.

She studied him from the doorway, her head tilted and her blue-within-blue eyes half-slitted in contemplation.  He would be rude, she would ignore it, he would yell, and she would speak softly.  The poison in him, this Dark Side, it was just poison.  Arha had survived The Water of Life--so, too, would she survive the taint that flowed through him. 

Poison always burned.

She swept a cursory probe over the work she had done the day before and found it well and still healing.  It needed help, but this was why she came.  It was not easy to initiate contact, to push aside the darkness, but such a thing was to be done and she would get better at doing it in time.  She moved into the room and took a seat beside his bed.

For the moment, she sad nothing.

[[For this post I have music: Canvas.]]