Little explosions rippled across the rooms down below, like little popping fire crackers throughout the whole of the station, one after another. Any other time, in any other place, Kilam would have gasped in surprise, sounding alarm after alarm to go and contain the situation with as much efficiency as his men could muster up.

But this was just the beginning of a long day...like it had been every other day, like it will be every other day hence forth. It would be no different. Reaching up toward his forehead, the middle-aged man wiped at the sweat that was developing on his brow.

Not a good posture for a federal leader...much less one who needed to show that his planet, his system, his nation was still strong. How can I show that we're strong...if we aren't?

That question had been haunting him for days now...weeks even. Ever since he'd won the latest presidential election it's been one thing after another after another haunting him and plaguing his ability to effectively lead his people. Something always came up to break any kind of semblence of strength they had...keeping him weak in the eyes of Seras, the neighboring planet in the system which seemed to hold a particular fondness for keeping his planet-nation of Kyiar down.

The rapid pops and explosions seemed to die down, and for a moment Kilam felt that he might get a break from the constant stress that seemed to be plaguing him.

He wiped that feeling away almost immediately however. It was too risky.

Anything could come up at any time and he needed to be ready to deal with it.

The mining complex down below would sort itself out he hoped. He had other matters he needed to attend to before he could hope to fix the instability of the lower mining complexes.

It was the moisture vaporators and the air conditioning...for some reason they weren't working properly together, but without one or the other the people would either roast alive or have nothing to drink and die of thirst at an accelerated rate.

Neither seemed particularly desireable at the moment.

"Jiehef?" the president said, turning to face the elder man at his side, stacks of papers and folders tucked under his arm.

"Yes sir?" he asked in rapid response, obviously wanting nothing more than to get out of here.

"Take me to the Serasian ambassador...I will meet him now," he explained.

"Yes sir."

Not that he particularly wanted to meet with the ambassador...he should've sent his own to meet him. But all were too busy across the system dealing with other affairs. Meeting with this one would make him seem weak as well, as though he would meet with someone who wasn't the local leader.

But we must all make sacrifices.

Without giving it a second thought...he followed his second in command.

The stress on his face was as evident as the sweat trickling down it, and for a moment he contemplated turning back on the air conditioning of the building, though that would lead to more explosions until they could recalibrate the machines properly.

Gah what is wrong with this place? How did it get to be something of this magnitude in failure?

Kyiar used to be such a grand nation, with a formidable army and a triumphant government. Other systems and nations would tremble at its glory, and they were the prosperous awe of travellers and traders galaxy wide.

For those of course who knew of the small system.

It was tucked away far from most of the trade routes, and the people who lived there liked it like that. The system was never over populated, and the few necessities could be found within the system, with the exception of such substances as bacta and tibanna gas, which were still received through inside trading.

Though even that was rarely a necessity. Until very recently, the seven planets in the system rarely kept a large and powerful military...the closest thing being Kyiar's, which still was not one of mass destruction.

Most importantly each of the planets had kept good relations with one another, having fought only one minor war over a kidnapping occurence.

But now...with the incursion of another sovereign government entering their system, teaching them how to construct weapons of mass destruction, two of the seven planets were laid to waste, and Kyiar's prosperity had come to an end.

And now, Saras, having had the majority of these weapons survive the initial attacks, was in a position to extort and blackmail the surrounding five planets. It was a nightmare.

The Sarasian ambassador across the onyx table from President Kilam sat smugly, a confident smirk playing his tanned features. He reached down and plucked up a cigarra from a hidden cigarra case down below the table, lighting it and placing it firmly between his lips.

A sign of his complete and utter confidence to his point.

"You understand, Mr. President, that regardless of what you do with your minerals here, there is no way to get them out of the system with a Sarasian interdictor nearby yes?" the ambassador explained in his typical, deep, and brutish accent.

Kilam nodded slowly while his hands clasped together tightly.

"And you do realize that it would violate the treaty you signed if you tried to do so?" the ambassador said more than asked.

It was true...after the initial nuclear assault by the Sarasians, Kilam had taken over as president. Then he had agreed to not attempting to slip any ships out of the system to ask for help or finances. To do so would risk further attack...possibly biological or chemical.

How could he do that to his people?

But then again...they were starving. Mothers often had to choose between feeding themselves or their children, and often times that would lead to the mother's imminent death.

So how could the wealthy Sarasian be sitting there so happily and cheery about what he was doing?

"You do realize Mr. Ambassador...that my people are starving..." Kilam began to explain. "I need to find a way to feed them."

"What of your stocks for the military?" the ambassador inquired, hoping to pin Kilam down into a corner of circular logic. The president sighed.

"We have tried that...our military though, as you know, is nothing more than typical militia and what ragtag fighters we could throw together...the capital ship of my navy is a modified Corellian Corvette...or what is left of one. They too are starving."

"Then I suppose Saras is doing its job well," the ambassador stated arrogantly.

Kilam's eyes widened with a flash of anger. Doing your job well?

Standing up abruptly and quickly, throwing his chair back across the room, he jabbed an accusing finger at the ambassador. "Begone Mr. Ambassador!" he demanded. "Out, off the planet before I issue a warrant for your arrest."

"Certainly you're joking..."

"I said out! Tell Saras we have met all accordances of the treaty but we will do what we can to feed our people!"

The ambassador stared in momentary disbelief at the suddenly confident president, but he nodded his head and rose, removing that cigarra from his mouth and dipping it in a nearby ash tray.

"Have it your way Mr. President. We'll see that the bombs do not continue to fall on Kyiar then," he said, hoping to leave that thought to linger in Kilam's mind as he turned and left.

Kilam felt the moment of adrenaline finally die down as the door hissed shut to herald the ambassador's exit.

What have I gotten myself into?

The shadow of the larger man drifted over the smaller like an omenous eclipse, and for a moment the young lieutenant found himself paling. Remembering his training however, he rebuked, returning the color to his skin. He needed to appear strong...that was what the president had always said.

Wiping the dust away from his green uniform, he turned his expression hard, unrelenting on the larger man.

"Ah...you Kiyarans always did surprise me," the larger soldier commented, giving a little nudge to the lieutenant's chest. "Whatever the case, we have a deal yes?"

The lieutenant stared downward, as though the ground would offer him some kind of explanation. The plan was pretty simple, to give the orders to temporarily disable a quadrant of security due to an incoming message for outside help, and then the Serasians would be allowed to land their strike forces.

Betrayal...the thought left a hammering sensation burning through his head, a dark feeling in his heart. He was a loyal member of the Kiyar Republic...he wanted to see these Serasians defeated just as anyone else, and the thought of this man standing in front of him caused the young lieutenant's hands to curl up into a visible fist. He was ready to strike him down, size superiority or not.

But they had his family. If he did not help them then they were all but dead, and he knew what these people did to captives.

"I can see this is hard for you," the Serasian trooper commented dryly, taking a step back, reaching down to clasp the communicator at his side. "I can always...let them know you are backing out."

This time the lieutenant's flesh turned uncontrollably pale, as though he were a sheet of flimsiplast. "Alright...I'll do it," he admitted. "You can trust in me..." was all he could muster out.

The larger, foreign general simply nodded. "You're a good man, you do your planet well," he said, turning and leaving as abruptly as he'd returned.

The lieutenant collapsed to his knees.

Raven jerked from sleep, her breathe comming to her in violent gasps, her heart racing at a painfully fast rate. Her small body was drenched with sweat, and tangled in her own bed sheets.

For once, she was thankful that the sith that had become her husband was gone, the silence in knowing that he wasn't asleep next to her a small blessing. He wouldn't want to see her like this, as a weak little girl. That much he made abundantly clear early on in their short time together. He prefered her as strong, straight-forward, and downright well... the thought that quickly made her blush for a moment, color momentarily on her cheeks, then faded just as quickly as her next thought dwelled upon what caused her to wake so suddenly.

A single dream had invaded her mind as of late, as she sat there in the dark, the recollection of the what unfolded replayed replayed as her own breathe and heartbeat gradually lessoned.

She believed she now knew why she kept dreaming of her last conversation with him... with Darren. Well, it was more of an arguement than a conversation, with trust as the topic, and with reguards to her last mission as a shadow jedi.

It was odd to realize now that he was trying to warn her, but she was too angry and stubborn to listen at the time.

Raven's fingers brushed the side of her bed, tucking in between the frame, and under the matress, pulling out a datapad that she flipped on.

This datapad was her own secret, one that she kept even from her sith husband. It was her own recurring dreams that spurred her to hide her own actions, and her own feelings. Not long after she figured out that the dreams were recurring, she began a search for Darren Trevelan, the one person whom she believed that she was too scared to feel anything for.

A copy of the information she had found she had saved to this single datapad. All it contained was basically one thing, a series of coordinates that taken weeks of searching, bargaining, and torturing for.

Her fingers brushing the console, Raven eyed the series of numbers, committing them to memory, then pressed a series of keys on the unit.

All she did was erase the coordinates she had memorized, and entered a message, setting the datapad down upon a nightstand where it was bound to be noticed.

Within the next hour, she was dressed and was in a small ship bound for hyperspace.

Every terminal and light was lit up as though it were some kind of jolly celebration, it seemed foolish to think that it could ever be dark in these chambers. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of men situated all along each of the consoles that lined the walls, their eyes glued to the panels loyally day in and day out, watching for...something, anything.

The entry doors hissed open before President Kilam Blackh, the only entrance in or out of the command center, and his coterie of blue-clad guards. They stood on either side of him, three of them, taking the entire room in a glance. A deep red texture ringed underneath the president's eyes, his lack of sleep obvious and accentuated by his difficulty to stand.

He had been awakened not less than twenty minutes earlier due to some kind of emergency that had occured that apparently "needed his attention immediately". Obviously it had something to do with Seras...but why?

Kilam pushed that question out of his head as quickly as it had come. Why did it matter? Such questions were only going to confuse his already perposterous state further. Just sit down, shut up, and give the orders to defend.

The annoying sound of thousands of beeps and clicks assaulted him instantaneously, driving anger and frustration into his system. He did not want to be here, hell now that he thought about it, he probably did not even want to be president. The sleepless nights, the endless conflicts, his eyes narrowed at the thoughts. Never in his life did Kilam believe that he would live to see this dark an hour, he had been raised when Kiyar was a wealthy Planetary Nation...those who controlled most of the system.

He was raised to know what true glory was, and to live a sybaritic prosperous life. That was before the depression...before the famine, before the war.

Now it was a planet on the brink of ruin, held by the mercy of the Serasian Republic who was constantly expanding. How many other planets had they conquered now? Three?

And where was Kiyar? With a handful of starfighters and a corvette that was on the verge of breakdown they were the least powerful militarily in the system, possibly in the galaxy. They could not repel an asteroid if they had to.

So what did Seras want with them? It was true, what was left of their non-devastated lands were now finally recovering from the famine, producing wealthy heaps of wheat and other forms of nutrition, but there wasn't enough of it to even feed the people of Kiyar much less the over populated and heavily urbanized Seras.

"Mister President," a voice called sternly, breaking Kilam from his thoughts. He turned a lazy gaze on the man who had spoken, General Marec, commander of their space force.

"Yes General?" Kilam asked as he made his way for a seat. He swiveled it so that his gaze was on the enormous holovid before him, a sensor array that kept the Kiyaran military aware of everything within Kiyaran borders. Or at least, everything that was within sattelite distance.

But something was missing.

Not just something...an entire quadrant was missing. Where there should've been the Centari Quadrant there was a simple black smudge where the holoprojector beamed up what it saw...nothing.

The president turned a concerned eye on the general, who too was moving into a seat next to him. He removed from one of the pockets of his green uniform a small device and flicked it on. The dot from the laser pointer was on the black smudge.

"What the hell is that?" Kilam demanded, his voice beginning to quiver and quake. A blackhole? A gravitational anomaly? Yuuzhan Vong? An explosion? What?

The general looked disappointed.

"Approximately three hours ago we were getting strange transmissions from the Centari Quadrant, it seemed as though they were under attack by something at first, but there was no way to tell," the general began to explain in his crisp and trained military voice.

Kilam opened his mouth to speak, but the general continued, cutting him off.

"So we dispatched a pair of Z-95 Headhunters to check it out. It turns out they were jammed, but not with a real high tech version of a comms jammer it seems, as part of the message was able to get through."

"Dear God..." the president said, letting his weight fall into the back of his chair.

"The Serasians apparently provoked one of our neighbors, we think it was Jieos, to launch a surprise attack on us. After about twenty minutes we got this," the other said, nudging toward the empty blackness the holoprojector was showing. "What this means is our sattelite has been knocked out in the Centari Quadrant. That leaves us completely vulnerable to any form of attack from that section of space."

The Centari Quadrant had fallen...

That was not like the seven other quadrants surrounding Kiyar, each one having a back up sattelite or two, or even with their strategic importance. There were only two quadrants into or out of Kiyar safely due to the debris from previous wars, the anamoly of radiation or even the asteroids, and the Centari Quadrant was one of them.

It was what stood between Seras and Kiyar, it was the only way they could navigate missiles onto the surface. With an interdictor cruiser lying in wait just outside the other Quadrant with a moderate sized warfleet, there was no doubt what Seras was up to now.

"This could be in response to my brashness toward their ambassador..." Kilam said, his voice trailing off.

The general shook his head slowly. "No sir...they were planning this attack for a good long while. Their forces dispatched from our neighbors even before the ambassador left," he explained.

Kilam turned a careful eye on the soldier. "How can you be sure?"

The general gave a sly little smirk.

Sleep, was rare thing, and dreams, even a rarer gift.

Her last dream was much more pleasant, and she found herself, out of all places, in the middle of a field. She recognized the plants that surrounded her as a type of grain.

Raven's fingers brushed some of the stalks that surrounded her, a gentle smile creasing her lips instead of the customary scowl for person who had grown to become a sith.

Some sith I turned out to be. I was even reluctant to kill all those kids who were held captive by my husband. Couldn't he even tell that I didnt' want to harm them by the way I was toying with them? Probably not, but in time, he'll figure it out.

It was such a peaceful place, and she found herself wandering in it, her fingers still brushing the grain that grew all around her.

Raven, wake up.

Raven stoped and turned at the sound of the voice, only to find that noone stood there.

Darren?

The barely whispered question hung on the air, and she heard a chuckle in reply.

Darren, where are you?

He was so close, Raven could sense it. But, as she kept searching, he was just as a elusive as the wind that had started to pick up in the field, making her long dark hair tangle about her face.

Raven, do you trust me?

Raven turned about again, bursting into frustraited tears when she had once again found nothing.

Do you trust me?

She nodded, whispered a yes into the open air. Without question, she trusted him. Darren was the only one she trusted so openly.

Then wake up.

But why? I have so much to say to you. I've searched for you for so long.

Trust me, you need to wake up.

Will we see each other again?

Maybe.

Raven's eyes fluttered open, only to hear the alarm warning her of near re-ermersion into regular space. She was about to put her hand on the lever to cut her hyperdrive, and re-engage her sublight engines, when her small ship was suddenly and violently shaken into real-space.

She quickly grabbed a hold of her controls, struggling to not only control her craft, while powering up her shields.

"No wonder you wanted me to wake up." Raven muttered, quickly stabilizing her craft and looking out her cockpit canopy.


What she saw, was utter pandemonium, with one side to the conflict unfairly overpowering the other.

Raven smirked, and quickly powered up her weapons.

"If I find you again, Darren, I swear I'll strangle you."

Sighing tiredly, she engaged her craft into a dive, praying that her own past training would help her get out of the mess she found herself yanked into.

Just as the president began to approve of the plan, sirens had begun to go off in every direction, shouts of panic and orders were beginning to be strewn about in the chaos of the place.

Kilam looked over at the general, who's face was even more pale than before. What was going on?

"Dammit General talk to me," he demanded, looking back over at the holovid, where ships were seen dashing around one another. Green highlighted the allied ships, all three starfighters and the dying Corvette, while red dominated the screen as the Serasians, with their Marauder Corvette and Interdictor Cruiser, along with the dozen or so TIE Uglies and one Y-Wing dispatching easily the Z-95 Headhunters moving out against them.

The general's color quickly reappeared and he too focused on the battle screen ahead.

"This just..moves things ahead of schedule..." he stammered quietly, his voice hinting at the denial in his mind. Kilam simply sighed.

"I don't want to know how this effects our plans just yet General, I want to know what the Hell is that?" he demanded, pointing his finger violently at the screen ahead. "Why are Serasians moving in with most of their battlefleet? Why arent' we throwing everything at them? What are our chances for survival?"

General Marec shook his head slowly.

"This looks like they're planning to finish us off sir," the elder general said hesitantly. "If this is just wave one...they intend to bring in more soldiers and um..." he let the rest trail off, allowing the president to come to his own conclusions.

Kilam ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. What was he going to do? An interdictor, though far from powerful, was enough to take down three or so Z-95s with mediocre pilots. That corvette may have had a chance if they weren't on the brink of destruction as it was...

"Order everything we have against them...prep up the missiles," Kilam authorized, sighing visibly with a great heave of his chest.

"What the hell is that?" a young sensor relay officer gasped, pointing at the blue of an unmarked craft.

Kilam noticed the general's eyes shooting wide open, both terror and excitement building it at once.

"That's a TIE Defender," he gasped.

According to her memory, Darren's last known coordinates were somewhere in this system. The trouble was that no amount of torture or research had pinpointed a more precise location.

Looks like it's my turn.

Raven took a deep breathe, and closed her eyes, drawing the force to her, then sent it searching. A smile creased her lips as she opened her eyes again.

He's most definately here, alright.

Following the familiar presence she felt, she turned her fighter around, only to frown.

"Wait, that's not right. He can't be on the ground. It's not like him to sit still when trouble is in the air."

She didn't have a chance to ponder the reasons why, her trail of thought being interupted rather nicely by a blast that shook her fighter.

"Why do I have to go through trials every time I want to see you?" Raven muttered, gritting her teeth.

The aging captain stroked his greying beard gently, letting his fingers twirl through the strands of hair as he thought. Every now and again the bridge was illuminated with the lights of the red-gold turbolasers that flashed out from his ship at the various fighters that zoomed in and out of the weapon paths.

His eyes dashed left and right, watching the tiny starfighters manuever nimbly in an attempt to dodge the various red beams of light while in turn offering a slight punch in response. So far they'd manage to cause a slight dent on the Interdictor Indigenous's shields, as though they were annoying bugs attempting to pester a bantha.

He'd watch as every one in a while little beams of concentrated energy would shoot out from the wing tips of the Z-95s, and collide with little imputent explosions inches in front of the hull of the Indigenous, signifying the deflector shields. Then one would take a slight hit and try to limp away as the Serasian fighters would move down onto them.

It was a wonder they'd survived this long. But the captain had been sloppy. He hadn't knocked out their long range sattelite like he should have, instead he'd gone the whole way, figuring a damaged corvette and a few Z-95s would be down in no time.

Though it was appearing that his pilots weren't as up to par as he'd thought.

At that exact instant the bridge lit up as one of his Y-Wings disintegrated into a ball of flame, no doubt the pilot was either burning alive, flash freezing to death, or caught somewhere in between. Captain Geyenkovich simply looked down and sighed.

Brushing off his deep blue uniform he turned to the bridge crew, who were sitting comfortably and smugly in their chairs, doing their jobs with ease. At last they'd be wiping the carrion of Kiyar off of their boots and being done with them.

This campaign against them had gone on far too long. Though the Serasians had suffered very little casualties at best, it was still an exhausting mop up operation.

The nuclear devastation of the planet made it almost entirely undesireable, but the presence of various ores and grains on the planet had attracted the heavily urbanized Seras.

The regent had been pressing and pressing for the entire military to wipe out President Blackh and his pathetic military. What were they at now? Just this Corvette? The captain was pretty certain he alone had destroyed their other three vessels, including most of their space force.

His throat burned with the desire to light a cigarra, a filthy habit he'd picked up campaigning against the Kiyarans when they were superior numerically and in training. That had changed after Operation: Winter's Touch. With most of their forces disheartened or afraid by the brutality of the nuclear attack, several of the starships and soldiers had fled to become pirates and mercenaries, leaving only the oldest military commanders behind to watch their republic crumble and fall.

It was in fact quite entertaining, it was something he had never thought he'd see in a dozen lifetimes. But with that cloaked man coming, teaching them the power of thermonuclear devices...

A mischevious grin played his lips at the thoughts.

How many cities had they hit? Five? Six? And every missile silo that could be used to return fire on the Serasians.

Yes, life was good at that exact moment in time.

Though all these thoughts, all these distractions ended with a blurring flash of green light, and a roar of ion engines. A great sonic boom threw him from his feet, his shoulder smashing hard against the durasteel deck as he began to slide across its smoothe surface.

A series of pops and bangs riddled the starship as he began to shake off his last feelings of dizziness.

"What the hell?" he demanded, getting onto his hands and knees.

"Captain!" his executive officer cried out, panic clutching his voice. Finally standing, feeling more frustration and anger than fear, the captain looked over at his younger associate, who's normally tanned face was white as a ghost.

"What is it Commander?" Geyenkovich growled under his breath ferally.

"Sir...look! A TIE!" the commander stammered, pointing a hesitant finger out the transparisteel viewport.

The captain turned angrily to see what the imputent commander was pointing at, and he himself, who had fought so ferociously at the Battle of Evergate where he alone stood against three battle cruisers, who had survived harsh capture by the Kiyarans, he who had stayed alive for weeks in the frigid eastern Serasian mountains, paled as well.

<hr>


"What is going on up there?" Kilam yelled, leaping from his seat and slamming balled fists against the panel in front of him. The thing beeped and howled in protest and he lifted his hands, though he disregarded the thing altogether.

The command center had been turned into a mess, a sheer and utter mess. People were screaming and yelling orders at one another, enlisted and low ranking officers were running about carrying out these commands, and the generals and colonels seemed as though they were on the brink of breakdown.

Marec put a hand on his president's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"That Defender seems to be on our side..." the general assured, unable to contain his own smile.

Kilam watched apprehensively, still unsure about the circumstances as the blue tagged Defender weaved in and out of enemy lines. Already two of the enemy Uglies had dropped, the remaining four were high tailing it back to Seras. But that still left three Y-Wings going after the Corvette.

This time, as Marec opened his mouth to issue an order, it was he who was cut off by Kilam.

"Order all the Z-95s to redirect their fire on the the Y-Wings. Don't let them get to the Impervious," he called out. The order was relayed in a matter of seconds and the green etched Headhunters broke off from the Interdictor cruiser, which had apparently suffered only a ten percent shield loss and they were empty of their missiles.

The Y-Wings for just a second had target lock on the corvette before breaking off, losing any chance they had to let loose their deadly missiles as the Headhunters moved against them.

The adrenaline in Kilam's body was so intense it burned, but he barely noticed it, as he barely noticed the sweat beating down his brow. Could this be the first victory since Operation: Winter's Touch?

For a moment the ex-military man wished he was up there, flying with those Z-95s as the debris and stars flew by him, dropping his laser bolts across the hull of the enemy starships and pulling back before they had a chance to respond. He missed, for just a moment, the feeling he got when he turned down his inertial compensator and felt his stomach rising into his chest.

But all those feelings passed as a burning pain shot up his back, right near where the metal rod had been put into place to hold his spine together after his accident. With that feeling of rememberance any thoughts of flying went straight out the window once more.

"Well I'll be damned..." he heard Marec whisper quietly. Kilam looked back at his space force general, then back at the screen where he saw the red Marauder Corvette turning slightly. Then he looked back at Marec.

"What is it?"

"That corvette is moving into a withdrawl manuever...it's going to try to use its ion exhaust to cover its retreat," the general commented as he watched the common tactic. "Those Y-Wings are going to do what they can but they've probably been given the rout order."

A Y-Wing disappeared in a flash, and a blue TIE Defender was seen in its place, as though a symbol of exactly why they should withdraw.

The Interdictor too had powered down its gravity wells and was turning to tuck-tail and run like a whipped dog. Though the TIE Defender did not seem eager to let the two craft go, and let loose a volley of everything it had on the Marauder corvette.

At first it seemed like nothing, some lasers in a futile attempt to get some last hits in. But when missiles and ion cannons were factored in it seemed the entire rear engines were blown completely off, and it was stuck in the dead of space.

A boarding crew would have to be dispatched, but, amidst the cheers and cries of excitement, Kilam simply fell back into his chair again, exhaustion over taking him.

Raven couldn't help but grin, feeling the excited rush that ran through her with every twist, turn, barrel roll, and firing of her weapons.

The old simulations didn't even come close to the actual experience of flying in actual combat. But experience was one thing she was grateful for.

She turned her craft about, to see what damage she had given the marader corvette, only to find that she didnt' have to go in for another pass. As far as she could tell, they were done, made virtual sitting ducks by their now off-line engines.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she flipped on her communications module. Hearing it crackle to life, all she could hear over the internal speakers was chearing, whooping and hollering. Raven smiled tiredly, giving the other flyers her own victory barrel roll.

Straightening her ship, she waited for the inevitable questions to come at her from the surviving victors. Raven was willing to bet that they weren't expecting to live another day at all, for if she hadn't being heading to this system in the first place,they would've been slaughtered by the attacking fleet.