=^=”Major, if you feel it safe to do so take your wing and run dispersal patterns around our ship, see if you can make them reconsider firing again,”=^= the Captain requested. John nodded and stood from his position in the squadron ready room, about to call out to some of the pilots to join him when he was interrupted by a second call from the bridge. ^=“Firefly, scramble the fighters immediately. I want them running recon and ready for a counter-attack if this ship reappears. Assume high alert—this might be a trap.”=^=

He broke into a sprint. =/\= “Aye, sir. Wing spaceborne in five minutes,” =/\= he confirmed, slamming his hand into the alert button for the fighter bay. “Scramble, scramble, scramble,” he yelled as he crossed into the bay. “Pilots in birds, engineers final checks and out! Let’s go, people!” He scanned the failsafe systems on his flightsuit as he ran to his own fighter, double checking all the indicators were still green as he prepped for launch.

Major John “Firefly” Arlen
Commander, Air Group