Disclaimer: I am not Timothy Zahn or J.K. Rowling.
Enter Neville and Arnold Peasegood, on the broomship Obliviate.
Peasegood glares bitterly at Neville.
Peasegood. You Firebolt hotshots. You've really got it made. You know that?
Neville shrugs, trying to ignore Peasegood.
Neville. Yeah, well, we're stuck out here, too.
Peasegood. [snorts] Yeah. Big sacrifice. You lounge around my broom like overpriced trampers for a couple of days, then flit around for two hours while I try to dodge bulk broomships and get this thing into a docking station designed for scavenger pickers. And then you pull your broomsticks back inside and go back to lounging again. Doesn't exactly qualify as earning your pay, in my book.
Neville. [aside] Don't respond. It's considered bad form to mouth back at senior officers, after all . . . even senior officers who have long since passed their prime. For probably the first time since I was given command of Rogue Squadron, I suddenly regret having passed up all the rest of the promotions I've been offered. A higher rank would at least entitle me to snarl back a little. [sighs] Then again, I guess I can see Peasegood's position. If our roles were reversed, I'm not sure I would do much better.
The battered Ministry broom appears.
Neville checks the sensors, but do to the Cloak of Invisibility they detect nothing, which merely serves to increase Neville's suspicions.
Peasegood steps forward, his irritability suddenly gone.
Peasegood. Trouble?
Noticing this, Neville looks over at Peasegood with grudging respect, thinking he might have judged him too harshly.
Neville. That incoming broom. There's something about it that doesn't feel right.
Peasegood. I don't see anything.
Neville. Me, either. There's just something . . . blast.
Peasegood. What?
Neville. Control won't let me in. Too much traffic on the circuits already, they say.
Peasegood. Allow me.
Peasegood manages what Neville could not on his own console.
There we go. I've got a tap into their records computer. Little trick you never learn flitting around in a Firebolt. Let's see now . . .shuttle Silver Arrow, out of West Ham. They were jumped by pirates, got their main drive damaged in the fight, and had to dump their cargo to get away. They're hoping to get some repair work done. Nimbus Control's basically told them to get in line.
Neville. I thought all this relief shipping had more or less taken over the whole place.
Peasegood. [shrugs] Theoretically. In practice . . . well, the Nimbus are easy enough to talk into bending that kind of rule. You just have to know how to phrase the request.
Neville nods.
Neville takes his transceiver.
Neville. [into transceiver] Rogue Squadron, this is Rogue Leader. Everyone to your brooms.
Peasegood. You still think there's trouble?
Neville. [grimaces] Probably not. But it won't hurt to be ready. Anyway, I can't have my pilots sitting around drinking tea all day.
Neville departs from the bridge and joins the rest of Rogue Squadron (i.e. Ritchie Coote, Ernie Macmillan, Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnigan, Dennis Creevey, and Aidan Kiely) in their brooms and departed from the Obliviate.
Spread out formation. Let's swing by and take a nice, casual little look.
As the Rogues do as Neville ordered, the battered broom explodes.
Emergency. Broom explosion near orbit-dock V-475. Send rescue team.
Within the remains of the broom, a legion of Ministry brooms appear and spread out.
Pull up. Come around and reform. S-foils in attack position.
As Rogue Squadron moves into action, the Battle of Nimbus begins.
Exit all.
