The biting wind blew straight down Lokval Pass, whipping up clumps of frozen debris to dance fleeting on the air before being dropped again to the icy ground. It began, slowly, to snow again; fat little snowflakes falling in quick flurries, settling on the compacted snow that already blanketed the pass. In the lea of the valley, knee-high shrubs had forced their way through the ice, and stood whispering in the wind, gnarled fingers flourishing small, deep-green leaves. Mirial was beautiful, in the desolate, deadly way.

A low whistle emanated behind Harp Marama as he stared down the sights of his E-17d sniper rifle, watching three Imperial scout troopers approach his position from the far end of the pass.

'I see them.'

R2-C3, affectionately known as Tootsie, whistled again; the astromech droid's scanners were picking up something else. A short distance behind the scouts, an AT-ST shuffled into Lokval Pass, struggling over the frozen and uneven terrain. Marama swore under his breath; he hadn't counted on the Imperial's being dumb enough to try and get a walker through the steep-sided, narrow valley. The sniper slung his rifle over his back and crawled away from the ridge. He was going to need a bigger gun.

The Empire had been attempting to take Lokval Pass for a little over a week, but Marama had successfully repelled all of their camouflaged, a crack shot, and aided by Tootsie's sensors, defeating the Imperial threat on the small town behind him hadn't been too difficult. Mirial didn't have much in the way of resources or strategic value, so Marama was defending little more than liberty, but in these times, the Rebel Alliance decided every scrap of that was worth fighting for.

Once out of view, Marama stood and walked over to Tootsie who had begun whirring excitedly all of a sudden. Harp Marama was tall and thin, but strong, as though perhaps he were made of wire. He ran a hand through his unruly crop of dark hair before patting his little droid on the head, trying to calm it, for R2-C3 was babbling about a message.

'We haven't got time for messages,' Marama said softly. 'Let's get to the ship and show these plastic boys just how rough we can play.'

But Tootsie was insistent in her beeps and buzzes, and what she was saying made Marama chuckle.

'And why would Mon Mothma want to talk to me?'

The astromech's reply wrought a frown on the pilot's face and he rubbed his brow.

'Just get in and patch that through to the computer. I want to see this for myself.' Marama sighed, 'I hope Mothma knows this is a very inconvenient time.'

Harp Marama's X-Wing looked a little worse for wear. The once white hull was now more of a dirty grey, and the green decals were scorched with blast marks, but it was a fighter in fine working order and had served Marama well ever since he had joined the rebellion and gotten his wings some three years prior. The X-Wing was the standard T-65B model, modified only with a reconnaissance scanner module which was mounted on the underside of the cockpit.

As his droid was fitted into the fighter, Marama clambered up and into the cockpit, the glass hatch sealing with a hiss as he strapped himself in.

'OK, Tootsie, show me the message. Quickly. We still have a chicken walker to pluck.'

With a merry whistle from Tootsie, the message allegedly from Mon Mothma, appeared on the small onboard computer before Marama. He read it carefully, and then read it again, even more carefully. The five sentences weighed upon him greatly, as though the galaxy was suddenly pulling Harp Marama, and the rebel alliance, into a whole new direction.

Base One to Lt. Marama. Death Star destroyed. Base One compromised. Porkins KIA. Mon Mothma requesting Lt. Marama at Yavin Base immediate.

Marama gulped. One hell of a message.

'Alright,' he called out to Tootsie as he fired up the ignition. 'We can digest that in hyperspace.'

Marama eased back on the yolk and lifted the X-Wing into the air gently. He banked to the left in a wide arc, making sure to avoid the edge of the valley, and then headed up for some altitude. Marama liked to make sure he had a clear head before he flew into battle, but there wasn't much chance of that this time. He kept the X-Wing steady until he was miles high, almost out of the atmosphere, but then pushed the nose down and let her drop.

The pilot locked the foils into attack position and stamped hard on the accelerator. Tootsie screamed ecstatically; if droids could produce adrenaline, then Marama was convinced his R2-C3 was addicted to it. A grin pulled itself over Marama's lips as Lokval Pass came into view, the Imperials still struggling to march their AT-ST down it.

Fish in a barrel.

Harp Marama lit them up. A hail of blasts from his laser cannons pounded the bottom of the pass and blew away any stormtroopers on foot. Tootsie was making a noise that sounded like laughter. Marama pulled up sharply and he lurched forward in the cockpit. He strained against the yolk to pull the X-Wing into a tight curve back away from the valley; it was only fair he gave the AT-ST a chance to shoot him back. He levelled out again as they streaked back towards the enemy at tremendous speed, such tremendous speed in fact that the Imperials didn't even get a shot off before Marama let loose a proton torpedo. Lokval Pass was already behind them when the AT-ST exploded.

Tootsie beeped in Marama's ear. The astro droid's scanners were picking up a loose set of structures not too far away - the Imperial's camp.

Marama set them flying towards it, close to the ground: 'Let's leave them with a parting gift.'

A couple of RTTs were parked together close to the camp, and Marama could see that a few troopers on the ground had spotted his approach, running to an anti-aircraft turret they had managed to set up.

Tootsie squealed again as Marama jammed the X-Wing into a barrel-roll, squeezing the button atop his yolk again to send another proton torpedo into the turret, a second into the troop transports, and then, just for good measure, sent a volley of laser fire into what he took to be the command centre.

Marama allowed himself a chuckle as he closed the S-foils, heading up and away from Mirial. His face fell when he remembered the message.

'Plot a hyperspace course for Yavin. Let's see what she wants with us.'

Tootsie whirred obligingly, and their X-Wing blasted away across the galaxy.

Marama tapped his foot impatiently as he waited to be beckoned into the command centre. All around him, Base One buzzed with activity; the Death Star had been destroyed only a day before, apparently by some new farm boy, and already the rebellion were beginning to evacuate their Yavin 4 base. The Empire knew where they were now, and the rebel leaders were keen not to be sluggish in their relocation. As a band of jovial troopers passed him, Marama nodded in friendly acknowledgement, but once they had gone the pilot's jaw wound itself tight again and his teeth clenched hard against each other. For Harp Marama, the best thing about the galaxy was how empty space truly was.

Tootsie chirruped nervously beside him.

'I know, Tootsie. I do not want to be here either.'

Marama let his mind drift as he listened to the cacophony of the rebel base being taken down and packed up around him. It drifted to the fourth sentence of a transmission that would forever be etched in Marama's mind.

Porkins KIA.

Jek was gone. His mentor had been extinguished and all that was left of all the life he had once been, all that was left to answer the questions of those who survived him, was an acronym beamed across the stars: Killed In Action.

Marama hadn't known Porkins before joining up with the rebels but they were from the same planet, Bestine IV, and when the portly pilot had discovered this, Porkins had taken the young, idealistic Marama under his wing. Porkins knew as well as Marama did that Marama was the better pilot, but that never stopped Jek from trying to teach him a thing or too. Porkins had been the one to recommend Marama when a new long-distance reconnaissance agent was needed, and Marama had always been thankful for that. Marama preferred the quiet stillness, the loneliness, of his long solo recon missions, though he had always regretted never having had the opportunity to fly into combat with Jek. Harp Marama was quiet, introverted - he didn't really 'do' friends; but Jek Porkins had come pretty close.

'You can come in now.' The gruff voice of one of Mon Mothma's personal guards shattered Harp's daydreams as the fearsome-looking officer gestured for him to enter. Marama stood and strode after the guard with a purposefulness Marama hoped masked his nerves.

The command centre opened out into one of the larger rooms of Yavin 4's Great Temple, communication and intelligence officers flitting about it as they undertook their tasks in dismantling the rebellion's complex tactical apparatus. It was busy, as was the whole base, but Harp was shepherded into a quiet corner by the guard and into an alcove in which a figure he had never seen before but immediately recognised, stood by a table. Harp Marama couldn't take his eyes from Mon Mothma. She was a commanding presence and the importance of whatever this meeting was about suddenly rushed up to punch Harp in the gut.

'Good evening, Lieutenant Marama.'

The pilot could only stutter a reply. This was all very new and overwhelming. In fact, in the three years Marama had joined the rebel alliance, serving them impeccably, he had only actually met his commanding officer once, when they had gifted him Tootsie and sent him on his way - all his missions since had come in transmissions. Marama thought that he'd rather be flying straight at an Imperial Star Destroyer, than be stood here.

Marama wished he had had a chance to clean his flight suit.

Mon Mothma offered Harp a thin smile; she was probably used to this. She looked to her guard and nodded, and he turned on his heel, leaving the three of them alone. Tootsie seemed to purr quietly and Marama was thankful the little droid was standing so close. Mon Mothma sighed.

'Lieutenant Marama, you are here because the rebel alliance has just struck a tremendous victory against the Empire, but our work is far from over.'

'Yes, Ma'am.' Marama was almost surprised at hearing his own voice. He sounded like a soldier.

'The Empire will now amass the rest of their forces,' Mon Mothma continued, 'and their forces are still great. They will come for us.' She paused, looking at Marama gravely. 'We need all the help we can get. We need all of our allies.'

Mon Mothma folded her arms over her chest and turned to look over the technicians dismantling the command centre equipment.

She spoke softly, almost sadly: 'There are thousands of rebellions scattered all over the galaxy. Wherever there is the Emperor's tyranny, there are rebels. Our alliance may be the largest, but we will never truly rid ourselves of the Empire until we all band together as one united front. Whilst pockets of us may stand against the Imperial threat, isolated we will surely fail. Some, of course, are little more than terrorists we cannot align ourselves with, and others refuse to cooperate, but there are men and women still out there, still fighting, who we believe we can reach out to and join forces with.'

Marama shuffled awkwardly. He had been a part of such a group once, a group of Bestine rebels attempting vainly to sabotage the Imperial factories on his home planet. It all seemed so foolish now. Marama couldn't imagine attempting to stop the Empire without all that the alliance had provided him with.

'Our recon pilots are being tasked with new missions, Lieutenant Marama - to bring those rebel cells together. You especially know how these freedom fighters work, so I have the utmost faith in you to bring them into our fold, which is why I am sending you after a group of rebels we need more than most.

'They call themselves Chaos Squadron, a rather apt name considering the damage they have caused, and amongst them is an engineer who we believe is working on something that could prove instrumental in turning the tide against the Empire.'

'Chaos Squadron?' Marama was trying hard to sound engaged, but already he had been cooped up too long. He wanted to get going, get back in the cockpit, back amongst the stars. All this politics was not for him.

'We don't know how many of them there are exactly, but we believe there are at least four pilots.' Mon Mothma sighed deeply, 'One of them used to be on our side.'

Marama's interest piqued. Tootsie whistled.

'We sent a pilot out for the same reason we are sending you,' Mon Mothma went on, 'but evidently he got too close and decided not to come back. Gil Ardan was a damn good pilot, but it was a mistake to send someone as volatile as him on a mission that will undoubtedly require sensitivity. He was already frustrated at how little he believed we were doing, so I blame only myself for his desertion. Do not take Ardan lightly, Lieutenant Marama, I doubt he'll want to come home.'

'No, Ma'am.'

'Good. But even if they all put up a fight, remember it is only the engineer we need.'

Marama looked at Tootsie.

'Are you telling me what I think you're telling me, Ma'am?'

Mon Mothma looked away for a moment, her eyes suddenly turning cold, strategizing. Marama realised then just how difficult it was to do what she did, and how good she was at it too.

'We only need the engineer, Harp.'

Marama breathed deep and relaxed into the seat of the cockpit as the hatch closed down on him.

'Recruiting Chaos Squadron - this all sounds a little strange.'

Tootsie let out a low groan.

'Now, now. It might be fun.'

The little droid beeped in reply.

'Well, yeah. They might try and kill us.'

Marama fingered the ignition and his X-Wing shook into life. Tootsie whirred again.

'I wonder if Gold Leader's droid is as pessimistic as you?'

As the X-Wing lifted into the air, the hangar of Base One was suddenly filled with the deafening claxon of the emergency alarm and flooded with pilots running to their fighters. Marama hovered for a moment, staring out of the cockpit at the surprising burst of activity.

'What the hell is going on?'

Tootsie buzzed anxiously. The other fighters were getting airbourne too and Marama had to move out of the way. He steered his X-Wing clear and out of the hangar, still hanging low over the forests of Yavin 4 when he realised what was going on. He saw nothing at first, but heard the unmistakable screech of incoming TIE Fighters.

'Oh dear.' Tootsie jabbered in agreement.

It appeared the Empire had already launched an attack on Base One. Marama could see in the distance two Star Destroyers loitering in the atmosphere, churning out TIEs. But the defense of Yavin 4 had begun too, and Marama knew that they didn't really need to defend the base so much as give the leaders enough time to evacuate, and protect the shuttles on their way out. The sky around Marama was suddenly filled with whatever craft had survived the assault on the death star, had been made ready, or had arrived at the base since. He recognised the red and black X-Wing of another recon pilot, a Francis something or other.

Marama shouted to R2-C3: 'Patch me in!'

A babble of chatter came over the radio until a voice cut through it.

'Red Leader to all wings, fall in, repeat, fall into formation. Head the fighters off and lead them away from the base! And for crinks sake destroy the bombers!'

Marama hesitated, caught in confusion.

'Red Leader this is- Tootsie what's our call sign?' The droid screamed a reply as the rest of the X-Wings began streaking away.

'Red Leader this is Green 13, I have prior mission, do I engage? Repeat, do I engage?'

There was a moment of static. And then:

'What the krong do you think, Green 13?'

Marama didn't need to be told twice. He punched the accelerator and tore off after the others. Harp Marama counted about seven X-Wings and two or three Y-Wings against what looked like a whole garrison of TIE Fighters and bombers: he had a bad feeling about this.

Marama took a deep breath, and then he was amongst the battle.

Tootsie screeched as debris from an exploded X-Wing struck them. Not a good start. Marama banked hard and got behind a TIE bomber making its way to the base, quickly gaining on the slower moving Imperial craft. He pulled the trigger and blasted the bomber until his cannons were overheating. Marama pulled away, letting them cool, as the bomber dropped out of the sky and crashed in a fiery ball.

Harp Marama yanked back on the yoke and flung his fighter into a loop over itself, coming up behind a TIE Fighter chasing another X-Wing. Marama fired, striking the TIE on the left of its vertical wings, but not downing it, giving the enemy pilot enough time to manoeuvre out of the line of fire.

A crackle came over the radio: 'Thanks, Green 13. Thought he had me there.'

Tootsie squeaked cheerfully, but knew as well as Marama did this was not the time to rest on their laurels. The pilot flung their X-Wing around again, pulling back on the yoke to give them some altitude.

One of their Y-Wings was making for the enemy Star Destroyer, seemingly having made its way through the mass of TIEs that swarmed like angry bees. Marama watched him go, but said nothing; there was no point engaging anything other than the fighters and bombers, they only needed to buy time for the evacuation, not prove themselves as heroes. Marama ignored the errant pilot and stuck his X-Wings nose after the nearest TIE.

Harp squeezed the trigger and caught the TIE dead centre, exploding the cockpit. He raced through the debris and flames and pumped the brakes, arcing round enough to catch another enemy fighter in his sights, destroying it with a quick blast from his laser cannons. Tootsie alerted him to another bomber making a break for Base One and Marama threw his fighter into a tight spin, eyeing the enemy craft for a moment, and then pushing down on the bright red button atop his yoke. A proton torpedo shot out and obliterated the TIE bomber.

'This is Red 5, Red 5! I've got one I can't shake!'

Marama twisted to see an X-Wing trying to evade a belligerent TIE. Red 5 was pretty good, thought Marama, but the Imperial in the TIE was better. Tootsie buzzed excitedly as Marama chucked his X-Wing into a barrel roll and clamped his foot down on the accelerator, making for the fighter after his comrade. Marama rolled in just behind the TIE and let loose a volley of laser fire, tearing through one of the limbs between the TIEs wings and its cockpit. The TIE spun wildly out of control, plummeting to the surface of Yavin 4. Marama thought about what Porkins had once told him: it's not about how many enemies you shoot down, it's about how many friends you get home.

Suddenly, Mon Mothma's voice was in Marama's ear: 'Lieutenant, don't you have a more pressing mission?'

His X-Wing shook as the distracted Marama caught stray fire. He pushed the fighter into a nosedive, and then tugged the yoke back, coming under another TIE and blasting it to pieces from below.

'More pressing than defending the base?' Marama had lost all his nerves and decorum in the heat of battle.

'I told you we needed friends, Marama. Get to your assigned mission immediately.'

Coordinates for a route through hyperspace blinked onto Marama's computer, and Tootsie whirred, offering to make the jump.

'No. No! Hang on!' Marama hit the accelerator again as he realised another two bombers had gotten through, this time accompanied by a couple of fighters. But as he came back on the base, Mon Mothma's voice needled his ear again, much more impatient this time.

'That is an order, Marama!'

Marama shot down one of the fighters before they realised an X-Wing was on their tail, but the second peeled off before he could shoot that one too. He sent another proton torpedo into the back of one of the bombers - overkill, admittedly, but the bombers needed bringing down fast. He caught the second one on the fuselage with a quick burst of his laser cannons, but as he watched it fall out of the sky, his X-Wing shook and the droid behind him screamed. The other TIE was now behind him.

Marama craned his neck to look for it unsuccessfully, and then sighed, overly dramatically for Mon Mothma's benefit.

'Fine!'

The pilot drew his X-Wing into a tight loop-the-loop, levelled out, and shouted instruction to R2-C3.

'Let's go, Tootsie! Now, now, now!'

His astro-droid cooed and whistled, and blasted them into hyperspace, leaving the TIE fighter shooting at nothing, and abandoning the battle for Base One.