Log:A medical ship?
FZ-4792 and PX-1221 are flying a patrol over Serenno. So far it has been uneventful, but things are about to take a more dramatic turn (or this scene would be very boring). On their scanners comes a blip, and Fuze calls it out: "Contact, one ship bearing 085, range ten thousand, speed six-zero and increasing. It's just taken off. Let's go take a look-see, Pox." She sounds cheerful. She's just out of medbay, after being stitched up after a ground convoy was attacked and she took a stone to the forehead.
"Want me to take the point on this one, Alpha One?" Pox's voice cuts across the comms. It is clear through his tone that he doesn't think Fuze incapable, likely he is simply concerned about her given her recent injury. His grip is loose on the control yoke of his TIE, but as the call comes across for potential combat, he tightens his grip and throttles up, the engines roaring as his TIE picks up speed and screams through the air.
"Alpha Two, Alpha One, affirmative." She cheerfully relinquishes control - she's not a gloryhound at the expense of her own pilots, and she's perfectly willing to let them take as much rope as they want to hang themselves with. Ten thousand meters is covered quickly, and the engine glow of the target ship is soon seen ahead. It's an old Imperial shuttle, the triangular wings folded open and picking up speed, but it bears no First Order identification beacon.
Pox leans forward, eyeing the ship climbing through the air, and says across the coms, "Alpha one, Alpha Two.... It seems to be an Imperial Shuttle, but I cannot pick up an ID code. It doesn't seem to be one of ours. I can't seem to spot any fighter escort... Do you wish to engage?"
"Alpha Two, stand by. Let's see if they answer a hail." Her fingers flip the appropriate switches to the universal hailing frequency. "Shuttle over Serenno at grid location Zee Zee Niner Foxtrot, identify yourself. This is a First Order patrol and you will identify yourself or be fired upon." For a long moment there's silence, and Fuze's fingers move instinctively towards the fire controls. Then there's a hiss of static and suddenly a voice, young, female, speaking Basic. "Uh, this is Shuttle Medical Four One. We're, uh, medevacing some patients."
"I don't know about you Fuze, but they should like they are full of shit," Pox says with a chuckle that cuts across the comms. His eyes gaze on the transport for a few moments through the shaded visor of his flight helmet and then he says, "FZ-4792, be advised those I.D. markings have been painted out. I am going to engage, copy?"
"Alpha One copies. I've got your back." Fuze slides her TIE into the number two position, above and to the right and behind of Pox's TIE, and keeps station as though she were held in place by an invisible thread. The shuttle seems to be engaging full speed to the north, keeping low, but of course its speed is no match for a TIE/sf.
Pressing forward on the throttle, Alpha Two screams out across the air separating him from the Transport. Pox comes in low, lower even than the Transport and it becomes evident wise as once he gets into range he angles upward, aligning his blaster cannons for the engines of the transport, attempting to burn them out and cripple the vessel.
The laser cannons strike the engines, flaming one out and blowing the other up in a most spectacular way, fragments of molten metal fireballing out and plinking into the TIEs' shields as they fly through the debris cloud. On the hailing frequency, "Dammit, we're a medical ship! We're going down, we're being fired upon by the First Order! Going do..." And then the voice abruptly breaks off as the shuttle, struggling to lift its wings, clips a tree and skids broadside across a small clearing before coming to rest. The TIEs skim overhead as a thick pall of black smoke starts to billow out. But there are survivors, struggling out of the wreckage, five in total; two are supporting a third who looks to have a broken leg. A young woman with a shock of blonde hair looks up, raising her hands dully; her voice comes over a pocket communicator. "We surrender. Please, get us medical help."
Pox doesn't slow, circling as the transport crashes into the trees and ground. As the survivors begin to flee the wreckage, Alpha Two dives, opening fire on a few of the survivors. "Alpha One, engaging the survivors. There will be no quarter given."
The three clustered together die first, flung apart by the laser-blast, followed by a fellow sprinting hard towards the trees. The blonde woman is the last to die, standing there as though resigned to death. As the laser-bolts sear towards her, she mutters an obscenity into her comm before she is cut down. Alpha One says nothing as she stays on Pox's tail. She does not fire.
Pulling back up toward the clouds, Alpha Two arcs and then begins to head back to base. He narrows his eyes as he hears nothing from Fuze, but doesn't say anything of it. His hands remain firmly on the control yokes, his eyes scanning the sky around him for any sign of danger. "Returning to base, Alpha One?" he finally answers.
Fuze's voice is calm, as ever, in his headset. "Affirmative. Alpha Squadron return to base." And quiet she is all the way back, sticking to comms protocols, leading the flight of two into the giant hangar bays on the Finalizer. The next Pox sees of her, she's climbing out of her TIE with her gunner, giving him the customary fist-bump as he heads off to do whatever tail-gunners do in their spare time. She glances over to look for Pox, eyes hooded.
Pox climbs out of his TIE, pulling his helmet off as he does. He reaches out and bumps his fist to his gunner and then glances over toward Fuze. His eyes meet hers and he holds, his gaze hard and unwavering. There is no shame to be found in his features for the bit of ruthlessness he exhibited down on Serenno. Thus far, they simply stand looking one another from the distance of her fighter to his.