Things had changed aboard the Challenger. More importantly, they had changed for Rogue Squadron. Or Rogue Group. Or whatever the hell it was that Alliance Command had decided to call it now.

Things had been going very wrong for the Alliance to Restore the Republic of late, and the Wheel seemed to be uncomfortably close to the centre of it. Political alliances and emnity had shattered the once-united Galactic Empire into a myriad of factions, and while that presented opportunities for the Rebels, it also multiplied the number of potential rivals and enemies. All the while, there were whisperings of traitors and Sith lurking in the Alliance's midsts; rumours that Alliance Intelligence was trying it's utmost to keep at bay.

It had been decreed that in these troubled times, the Rebel Alliance needed as many symbols as they could, to maintain the faith and confidence of their soldiers. It was argued that Rogue Squadron's secret assignment to the Wheel wasn't high profile enough: that the Alliance couldn't afford to keep one of it's symbols tucked away, even if they were protecting an even more important one. There were fears too that, without Rogue Squadron popping up in Imperial Intelligence reports often enough, the Empire might become suspicious of what the Alliance's elite was really up to.

And so, Rogue Squadron had transformed: not just a dozen elite pilots, but several more. The Alliance's best would still protect the galaxy's hope for the future; but with enough spare pilots and planes with the correct paint job to once again let the Rogues take the fight to the enemy.

Today however, the mission that had presented itself was far less glamorous. By rights it shouldn't even have been a Rogue mission at all, but recent events had left him overly cautious. The Wheel had detected a distress call from deep space: a signal that seemed to date back as far as the Clone Wars.

The last time they had detected such a transmission, Commodore Tyree had allowed two of the Jedi to investigate it alone; and they had barely made it back in once piece, though the spoils ultimately did justify the risk.

This time, he would ensure that things were done properly.

Striding into the briefing room, he waved away any notions of salutes or attention. Rather than approach the podium however, he simply joined the assembled pilots scattered around the front row, settling himself down beside Major Perris. Captain Luka would be leading the briefing, whenever he decided to grace them with his presence; Vansen was there merely to offer the occasional growl and encouraging remark.

He shot a glance to the pilot beside him, his voice low. "You sure you can remember how to fly an X-Wing, Major? It's been a while."