A short while before the briefing:
Erien looked down at the human and gave a growling sigh. "Well, you're released from your temporary confinement," she said, folding both arms across her chest. "Ready to do something useful other sitting about and watching the ceiling rust? Come on; you've already missed out on your fighter calibrations, so you'll have to make do with a default human setting. At least you don't miss out completely on our first mission". She gave him a stern look. "You'd better not make that look bad at least, lieutenant Mallory".
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At the present time:
Erien nodded or murmured 'good mornings' and 'hellos' to each of the pilots as they emerged and helped themselves to the coffee or food that had been laid out for them. Checking the time index on the screen, she began the briefing promptly... noting who was late or not for her own records with a brief, dark expression flashing across her face like a cloud over the sun.
"Thank you for being prompt, pilots. Now you're all fed and watered, I'll begin. And, by the way," she added, gesturing to where Adam had joined the group. "This is Lieutenant Mallory. He is also part of our squadron, however, he was... indisposed until now, due to some spectacular levels of bad decision making. Nonetheless, he's now with us, and ready to fly".
The screen behind her shifted to show a representation of the system they were heading into, and the predicted point for their jump arrival.
"Once we drop out of hyperspace, we'll be launched as part of the preliminary reconnaissance and interception force. Our role will be to close in and provide cover to the Claymores as they perform a full LIDAR and sensor scan of the surface and orbital space of the planet Alendri in the Telleri system.
"Alendri is supposed to be home to almost one thousand colonists in a number of small settlements spread across the northern-most continents' equatorial region. Approximately two weeks ago, all transmissions from Alendri ceased, and then three days after that, a freighter from Alendri arrived in the Holon system. Heavily damaged by what looked like weapons fire, most of the crew were injured. All of them were shell-shocked and exhausted from staying awake for more than three days straight after fleeing the system. They reported attacks by unknown hostile forces. That's what lead to the task force our ship and squadron are part of being assembled to find out what the hell is going on in that region of space, and put a stop to it".
The screen changed to show the planet with the populated areas highlighted. A box-in showed the celestial positions of the planets and other bodies in-system as well, with their arrival point, just beyond the primary satellite of Aleri.
The main image changed again, showing their course plotted from the ship towards the planet, weaving around the moon to check behind its' mass before heading into orbit.
"We'll be flying in split flights at set distances from the Claymore. Our secondary job will be to act as the first line of defence and deterrence for any unexpected hostiles we encounter once we get in-system. If anything heads for the ship, we take off on an intercept course to... dissuade them from attacking."
A tap on the toggles' holographic controls, and the screen resolved to a series of schematics and still images.
"All of our craft will be loaded with a standard aerospace superiority loadout; long-range missiles on the dorsal launchers, mid-range ones in the side launchers. We'll all be carrying an additional reaction mass tank on the centreline too, to extend our patrol range. Once we've established the area is secure, the ship will maove into a stable orbit and we'll be relieved on station by Juno Squadron. Then we can all head back home for a mutual back-patting session and crack open the beers... or whatever your drink of preference is. Unless," she said with a grimace, "things go all to hell out there, and we end up in a pitched battle. If that's the case, then fall back on your training and experience. Remember to stick in pairs and cover each other. No going off solo; that's how they pick you off. Watch each others' backs - the enemy will be doing the same thing, and looking for you to slip up or make mistakes.".
The female Isorlai tapped the screen with the back of one handpaw, her expression stern. "Their fighters are older models. Not as powerful in thrust and acceleration, pound for pound, as our Sabres, but they're well armoured, and have a modular load out. They might be packing powerful weapons, but you can out maneuver them. In close where it counts, our extra power and energy will help, and their heavier weight will let them down. Not to mention, we have the benefit of superior sensors, along with the Claymores working with us as well for battlespace control and management. We've got the advantage, and we train to use it well. I'll be out there too, right alongside all of you." She looked from face to face, and then nodded.
"That's all. We launch in a shade under ninety minutes. I'll meet you all in the hangar bay to mount up for pre-flight checks. Any questions, ask away or get me on my toggle. Dismissed".
Erien shut down the toggle-screen and clipped the device back to her belt. She had time enough to head for life-support and get her personal flight gear and survival equipment fitted and signed out, and still have enough room to fret, dither, and remember she hadn't filed various bits of necessary paperwork.
Just as normal then, she thought to herself with a wry smile and a shake of her head, before she downed the last of her now lukewarm tea with a grimace. Giving a quiet 'blech', she set the cup down on the kitchen counter and lowered herself to all fours, padding toward the door. No time like the present to get ready...
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The time passed much quicker than the white-furred Isorlai had imagined. She'd fitted and strapped on her additional survival gear; the vest, belts, equipment harnesses and bulky acceleration-cushioning and other gear leaving her with less mobility, but a great deal more suvivability in the cold of space, and in the cockpit of her fighter. From there, she had ponderously made her way down to the hangar bay. A walk-around of her ship with the repair crew, and she had signed off on the machine for the mission, accepting it as ready for flight. Helping hands were required to get her onboard and strapped into place with oxygen hoses and data cables attached. Electrical power came online and she ran through the pre-flight checklist, verifying everything was running smoothly.
As she reached the last items on the list, the alarms on the hangar deck blared - they were about due to drop out of hyperspace. A shudder ran through the ship once more, and this time the sensation was like the lurch of dropping suddenly; like turbulence in the air, or an elevator slipping on its' cable, the leap in the pit of your stomach. Vision returned to full normal, and the hangar became a mass of people moving urgently to clear space and ready ships for launch.
Her lists complete, the canopy cycled closed, and she gave a thumbs-up to her repar crew, her saluted her and returned the gesture. A thump, a rumble, and the overhead deployment arm attached to her fighter and lifted it off the deck. External hoses disconnected with a clunk, and she retracted the landing skids as the fighter was moved through the hangar, suspended above the deck. Turning, it was lined up with a launch tube, the armoured doors yawning open before the fighter slotted into place on the magnetic launch rail.
"Wylde Fyre Lead, this is control. You are loaded and in the breech. Stand by for launch, over"
"Roger control, this is lead. Reading you loud and clear. Standing by as ordered for launch, over".
She tensed her gloved paws on the throttle and stick, the hum of power from the ship still reverberating through the fighter and through the muffled barrier of her visor and its' glowing icons. Ahead, the darkened launch tube stretched to a door. When the order came, the lights would snap on, and the magnetic launcher would blast her, and the others in the squadron, like bullets from a railgun out into space, and they'd be in the thick of it.
"Wylde Fyre lead to all craft. Stand by for launch, we are on the mission timeline, over!"
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