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| - Hangar Bay - I2SD Predator The immensity of the hangar is a tribute to the size of this vessel. This facility is able to refuel, repair and rearm vessels from the smallest Lambda shuttle to the larger Correlian Corvettes. It is kept flawlessly clean by the constant presence of scrubber droids removing debris and trash off of the finely polished deck. Very little space is wasted on this mighty warship and this is doubly true of the main hangar. Along the ceiling nestled in launch shrouds are the behemoths of the ground forces, from the fearsome AT-AT and AT-ST walkers to the older Juggernauts and Air Fortresses. Hanging out over the vast vacuum of space is the 'control tower'. From it, the deck chief can supervise the operations in both Hangars. Along either side of it rest the heavy-duty repulsor beams and the passageways to the even heavier tractor beams. The view from the hangar of the microcosm that is a warship might easily be compared to an anthill. Despite the vast numbers of ships that leave and arrive at the ship, crewmembers, pilots and naval security personnel are seen all over the place, from the security by the turbolift doors to technicians and their droids conducting repairs of vital parts on many of the shuttles and combat support craft. Forward of the control tower, the claw-like launchers for the ship's wing of TIE Fighters can be seen, as well as the gantries that lead to the fighter bays. Large blast doors, to the aft, lead to the cargo areas, where the ship's consumables are stored. Several sets of solid black doors mar the othewise light gray finish of the hangar, they are the turbolifts that access the rest of the vessel. Sitting on a cargo crate that's temporarily near her ship, Lynae has her head tilted back as she stares upwards into the darkness of the ceiling. Stares upwards, that is, but isn't particularly focused on that which she is staring at. More along the lines of thinking intently, a serious expression on her face, the look in her eyes to match the expression. Her gaze flickers briefly around the room and studies the droids that are the main source of activity in the hangar bay, human personnel reserved for the bridge of course. A lone fighter comes into the hangar bay. From the modifications, and the type (an advanced headhunter II) it could only be one person. As the canopy comes open, a flight helmet is tossed out, rolling across the durasteel floor. The droid behind the cockpit lowers down as well, uncoupling itself from it's compartment. "I have got to stretch my legs," Axel says as he unhooks the straps and climbs out. "She's the best damn fighter out there when it comes to combat, but on long jumps she doesn't leave much room for comfort." The first thing the man does is lights up a cigarette once he is fully out of the fighter. "Check on that fuel leak, R2," he says to the droid. "I know you said it's just normal consumption, but something just doesn't feel right." "Now that's something I've always envied," Lynae says in a contemplative tone of voice once the noise level drops and Axel lights up his cigarette. "Pilots, the good ones I mean, seem to have this instinctive feel for what's right and what isn't when it comes to the vehicle they're flying. I have that, but it's surgery that I feel I could do blindfold. Not pilot, I'm still going by the numbers and doing everything in rote order." Axel gives a smile. "I wasn't sure you would still be here," he says between puffs from the cigarette. "Well, you have to love flying. To me, there is nothing that makes one feel like a god than flying. You probably feel the same way about surgery. When you have a patient on a table, you hold his life in your hands, it's a godlike feeling. When I'm in the cockpit of a responsive ship, I feel like I can do anything and nobody can touch me. I can go anywhere, touch the stars, whatever." He takes another drag from his cigarette as his astromech is busy going over the ship's systems. Axel walks over and picks up his helmet, only to set it down again on the crate next to Lynae. "If you want though, I can teach you some tricks one day. To be a good pilot though, you have to love it. It can't just be a ship, it has to feel like part of you. You move and it moves in response, you are the brain and it becomes your body. You think it reacts." Lynae reaches for the helmet and tosses it between her hands lightly as she replies, "I enjoy flying, this much is true. My father is a pilot, an old and should have retired a long time ago pilot, but a pilot to the core. If it can get off the flight deck, he can fly it - and land it. He taught me the ropes, so to speak, when I was just a kid. But I dived into medicine instead of piloting. Didn't think I had the stomach for all the crazy spirals and twists that fighter pilots are required to do in combat. I hadn't touched the controls of any kind of ship in more than a decade when I got transferred to the taskforce at first. Didn't do any flying at all until about six months ago, to be honest. Always relied on the vastly better skilled pilots aboard the Broadsword or the Inquisitor to do the actual piloting." She pauses, rolling his words around again in her thoughts before continuing, "I don't know that I feel 'godlike', Axel. I know that I feel like a repair man, really. I can see the damage, I know how to fix it, I know how to make 'this' do 'that' again, how to take it apart and reassemble it. One delicate piece at a time. And with skill and dedication, time and detail, I can make those repairs." "Well, fortunately you don't have that kind of time in space. If you did, flying would be boring." Axel smiles a bit more and takes another long drag from the cigarette. He had become a hard-core smoker when he quit the spice, trading one bad habit for another, but at least he kept a somewhat clear mind these days. "Like I said, one day I can show you some tricks, simple stuff but it's a lot of fun and looks really great to observers. I think, with a little bit of tweeking here and there, your ship would do pretty well." He finishes the cigarette and stubs it out under his boot. "On a different note, I'm glad to see you are still here. It means you are really contemplating your involvement with us. You aren't in any way a prisoner here and are free to go as you wish. We think you belong here, this is what your destiny is, but it's not our decision to make, Lynae. It's your decision. It's your life. Can you settle down, become a family woman? Or maybe a resident at one of the various hospitals in the galaxy? Is that what you want out of life?" He pauses a moment, pulling a small metal flask out of his flight vest and unscrewing the cap. "Or do you want to make a difference in the galaxy? Do something that will affect thousands of systems, billions of people? I don't want to put any pressure on you, Lynae. I really don't. I just want you to realize the opportunity that is here for you." "Odd, you say the same thing that Dareus did. That you don't want to put any pressure on me to make a decision. This may be the last chance I'll ever have to command a ship of war into combat and back out the other side. This may be the last real opportunity of my entire life. No, Axel, to be frank, I don't see myself becoming a family woman. Too say the least because the odds of me being able to do that list bit, family I mean, are slim to none." She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, her tone of voice dry as she continues, "I was injured several years ago and took a great deal of shrapnel across my lower back. It nearly killed me, and worse, when some idiot tried to put me in a bacta tank. I actually went into convulsive shock and my heart stopped," she adds with a slight shake of her head. "Frankly, I don't think I'd be cut out for it. Can you picture me with a child?" Another inelegant sound, a snort of amusement. "Please. Do I want to settle down and be a resident of some hospital, filling out charts for the rest of my life, making rounds, running tests, growing old and gray and regretting that I never took this chance?" Again, a shake of her head, "I love the Empire, Axel. You speak of love, of love of flying, but I love the Empire. I always have, I always will. I have to decide if what you're going, with Tyler and Dareus and this ship and this crew and the goals, is in line with that love." Axel nods and plops up on another crate, taking a sip from his flask and offering it over. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not doing this for the Empire. I've never really taken sides myself. Sure, I've fought for the Empire, but for that matter I've fought for the NR, the Hutts, the CDU, the CSA, hell anyone that could pay my wages. Now though, I'm here because I know we can make a change in the galaxy. This isn't Palpatine's Empire, this isn't Osbourne's or Malif's, or Valek's Empire, this is Vadim's Empire. I know he is backing Tyler or Malign or whatever you want to call him. He does so quietly though. We aren't acting on the behalf of the Empire, no. We're acting on behalf of the Sith Empire. We are doing the things that the Galactic Empire can't. We aren't bound by political restraints or greedy corrupt Moffs afraid to lose a piece of the pie or waiting for the current Emperor to die off like all his predecessors. We act outside of the laws of the galaxy, but for the galaxy's good will."
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