Harry Potter was, inexplicably, unbelievably (given the circumstances) bored.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so much boredom as the fact that he was used to running and fighting and running and mulling over puzzles and running and fighting and so on and so forth, that being stationary for so long was difficult to get used to. Knowing even more was to come had him keyed up with a sort of nervous energy that was difficult to disperse.

He tried fighting holograms with his magic in the Sensoriums, but that didn't help him in the least bit, because he only got more ramped up instead of letting the coiled up spring in his chest release. (Hands down, the feeling was far worse than previous chest-feelings he'd had in the past). He wandered the hallways aimlessly but that only made him feel more restless. He poked his nose in places he was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to go, like the Bridge and the Special Weapons lab, but that didn't help, either. He stared out the Obs Deck window, he canvassed the Art Hall, and he even took a hike through the city, but the feeling wouldn't go away.

In the end, he wound up in Hydroponics, laying down in the grass, the fake sun on his face. Pulling the legs of his plantsuit apart slightly got his feet free and let him wiggle his toes in the grass.

This is relaxing, isn't it? You can still do relaxing, can't you?

He couldn't, though. He just couldn't. In fact, he was fairly certain that even if Ron and Hermione had been there, and they'd been lounging around by the fire of the Gryffindor Common Room, he still would have had trouble.

Why couldn't he seem to let his guard down for even a moment?

[ooc: You can have your character find Harry in just about any area of the ship! Just specify where your character ran into him. Also, please note, I will be tagging this VERY slowly until probably Friday or Saturday, due to school.]

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

Stacy's voiced called the entire crew, until all of them were gathered at the Obs Deck. Then, a dossier appeared on the screens, along with the image of a rotating planet.

Planet Designation: Happy Happy Fun World
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Medium flora and fauna. Primarily domestic.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: A significant number of species of intelligent life.
Water: 25% of the planet's surface.

Climate: Climate varies by region.
Landscape: Landscape has been significantly terraformed and is highly varied.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 29% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 3% xenon, 6% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.

Air Pressure: 14.352 pounds per square inch.
Sky: Pink with white clouds.
Sun: A class D4K, yellow star.

Warnings: Crew should be cautious when consuming the popcorn.

Mission: None. Shore leave is now initiated.

Hey, what's not to like about a planet called 'Happy Happy Fun World'?

[[ooc: Time for Shore Leave! Post reactions to the announcement here]]

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicom. New crew-mates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that) and purple girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

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!"

He awoke slowly, taking in the soft beeps and faint thrum of engines around him. They’d been disconcerting when his team was first stationed on the Minerva, but he’d gotten used to them, just like he’d – no, that couldn’t be right. The Minerva had gone down on the moon. And the moon was gone, so he had to be on another ship. He’d be able to figure it out if his head would stop hurting; he hadn’t felt this groggy since Neo-Genesis, when the Destiny had been shot down –

He’d been shot down.

The fight over Zokoz II came back to him in a flash. He struggled to sit up, but it was hard enough just to open his eyes in the bright medbay, and one of his arms was wrapped in some sort of plaster, making it awkward just to scramble just to angle himself slightly upright against the pillow. “What happened?” he choked, his voice coming out hoarse with disuse.

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 )

Morale was high, and everyone had their share of fun, but now it was time to part ways with Zokez II.

As everyone made their way back to the spaceport to be picked up, they could see the Obs Deck waiting for them with ramp open, and large tendrils eagerly moving vehicles and cargo back aboard.

It's about time to say goodbye to this planet...but fate, it seems, has other ideas.

[OOC: PLOT BEGINS! Here's how it goes: A handful of techies and a couple fighty people (as escort) will be on the reactor end of this part of the plot, while everyone else can help out with the evacuation.]

[OOC pt 2: Also, sorry, it apparently wasn't clear that they hadn't actually gotten back onto the ship yet. Plot is obviously taking place on the planet.]

Shinn had gone for one of the motorbikes as soon as they’d touched down, driving it straight off the obs deck and into the resort town. He passed a few solid blocks of shop fronts filled with sarongs, driftwood jewelry, and the alien equivalent of tiki torches before running into a larger and exponentially less kitsch store stocked with clothes not just meant for hanging around the beach. He’d mentally run down what he’d usually pick up on a chance to disembark and realized that the only things Stacy wouldn’t supply were real clothes and food. Food would go bad, but the mismatch of casual clothes he picked up would last long enough if Stacy had somewhere to wash them.

But that was all he wanted from the busy part of town. He hit the island’s approximation of a highway and took off for the opposite end of the place. It was a good bike, the tank was full – he could blank out for an hour or two, racing the breeze.

He stopped, finally, where the road widened into some sort of “look at the beautiful view” spot, or maybe it was just some place for trucks to pull over. He didn’t really care. At a glance, the area was deserted, and there was a stairway of sun-bleached wood down to a white, sandy beach. He parked the bike and stepped down to the shore, stripping down to lightweight shorts at the stepping into the surf. The waves seemed erratic – probably thanks to the new sentient moon parked in orbit – but he’d been swimming almost as long as he could walk, and further out the water was calm enough to float. The sun was warm, the sea was gentle, the breeze was clean…

How long had it been since he’d wound up swimming…? As far as he could remember, he’d been on leave at Diocuia only months ago, but he had no way of knowing how long he’d been sleeping on Stacy. It could have been years, and… the little cove by the cliffs was gone now. So was the memorial at Onogoro, the dunes he and Mayu had played at… And someday this postcard world would probably end up just like Orb.

Knowing the Ohm would wipe the whole "no weapons" planet out of existence made the place a lot harder to enjoy.

Tycho was glad the squadron had so many new recruits, and he certainly didn't mind the sizable increase in his work-load that went along with it. After all, that's what his job as squadron XO was; making sure everything was organized. Still though, when it came down to it, Tycho was a pilot. He felt far more comfortable in the cockpit of a fighter than he did anywhere else.

Today, today he could use the distraction of some demanding piloting. Today, he wanted to go fast.

The sensoriums resolved themselves into the familiar hanger bay of the Mon Cal star cruiser Home One. The atmosphere was tense, buzzing with the familiar adrenaline high of before a major battle. With a grin, Tycho hoisted himself into the cockpit of his temporary ship, an A-Wing. Expertly, his fingers flicked over the controls, even as he logged into his squadron's com channel. "Green three has four lit and ready when you are," he informed Green Leader. Then they were off, forming up in a screen with the other fighters, ready to make the short jump to Endor.

Back in realspace, the fighter screen streamed towards the half finished Death Star, until there was Lando's voice on the coms, barking at them to pull back. It was a trap, the Death Star's shields were still up- even knowing it was coming, Tycho's stomach still clenched. But now, now here's where the fun part came in. He allowed himself a small smile as his craft turned to engage the oncoming wave of TIE-fighters. His A-Wing danced, his A-Wing soared, and TIE after TIE met their ends.

Tycho was a different pilot than he had been at the actual Battle of Endor 9 years earlier. He was older, more experienced. Still, he got the same joy out of flying that he always had, that same feeling of this is what I was meant to do.


[OOC: if anyone wants to come in and observe the battle, or hop in another fighter and join in, that's cool! Tycho's mostly just vapin some Imps to blow off steam. If you're not familiar with the Battle of Endor (the fight against the second Death Star) the video is here]

[Closed to the mechanics and engineers who are going to be involved in the Great Rogue Upgrade project. see this com post.]

The sensoriums had been set to look like an empty hangar in which a couple X-Wings sat. Tycho had no idea what else the engineers would need for their initial planing phase, but he figured whatever it was, they could tell the sensorium to create it themselves.

He conjured himself up a crate to sit on, and scrolled through some squadron numbers on his datapad as he waited for everyone to arrive.

Wedge had set up the headquarters for yet another meet and greet operation. The headquarters, of course, was simply an abandoned building with appropriate facilities he had commandeered in the city. A low building of bright red brick, it had at some point been an office complex. Now it was the headquarters of the best fighter squadron anywhere (or so the reputation went). A crude sign and been painted over the front of the building reading 'Rogue Squadron Headquarters,' replacing the precious owners which had advertised for insurance of some type. The front offices had been set up for use by Wedge and his small staff (now including Tycho, Ben and Nura) to run the squadron. Another side room had been set up as a 'pilot lounge,' though at the moment it only had some spare office furniture. Couches and other things were hard to come by on Stacy. Finally, the largest room had been converted into a briefing room of sorts, with a projector and several rows of seating, as well as tables that could be stowed or set up as needed.

At the moment there were simply chairs scattered around the edge of the room. Wedge waited, occasionally checking his chronometer. Hopefully everyone would arrive and mingle, and then he could get down to the business of letting them know exactly what they were in for.

<sub>[[OOC: Feel free to tag each other, please!

The briefing has started!]]</sub>

Shinn palmed Destiny’s cockpit open and slipped inside. If the mobile suit had been in storage for a while, there wasn’t any sign of it. There wasn’t dust on the screens or corrosion on the panels, and the machine’s diagnostics showed that all systems were as functional as they’d been on its first sortie -- not that the fight was much to remember, he recalled, grimacing.

He leaned back in the familiar seat. He felt, surreally, like he was fourteen again. His home was gone, he was in a strange new place… Shouldn’t he be more upset? He’d been a wreck after Onogoro, but – the thought vanished. He shook his head, blinking, and stared at the control panels. Right. He’d known what he had to do then, and he knew what he had to do now.

He punched a short message into the communicator, then powered down most of the suit’s systems and pulled out a battered pink mobile phone, flipping it open and shut mechanically. He hadn’t been able to stop the Alliance and he hadn’t been able to stop the Ohm, but he would be ready next time.

Stacy's voice speaks over the whole of the ship. What she has to say has become very familiar over the the podlings have spent here.

||Pod Release Protocols Initiating,|| she says. ||Please proceed to the Observation Deck to meet your new crew mates.||

Those crew members that don't head to the Obs Deck on their own are hurried there via gentle but insistent tentacles. A few people stop by Engineering to help bring and pass out omnicoms and comm rings to the new crew members as well.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]