FLYING HOME
Chapter I: Echo Base
Jaina looked around her in shock. One moment she'd been standing in the Jedi Archives on Shedu Maad, the next she was in a large hangar she didn't recognise, with X-Wing starfighters dotted around the floor, being fuelled by people in grey overalls and crewed by unknown pilots in orange.
At least none of them gave her a second glance as they ran past her. She gave thanks to the Force that she'd decided to wear her orange battle overalls today — although she should really hide her lightsaber.
"The first transport is away. The first transport is away."
A loud cheer filled the hangar as every person celebrated the news. Jaina's forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together, as she surveyed the scene before her.
"Rogue Squadron is preparing to take off to engage the Imperials. Sword Squadron to escort transports out of system to the rendezvous point. The second transport is departing."
It made sense now. Somehow, she'd landed in a different time, in the middle of the Rebellion. It was after Yavin IV, she calculated, because Rogue Squadron existed. The squadron she commanded in her own time…
Rogue Squadron! The realisation hit her like a laser-blast, and she scanned the hangar for an unattended X-Wing. I'm not sitting out of this one while the Rogues fight. Setting her jaw, she began to run, helmet in hand, lightsaber at her hip, towards the one-man starfighter. Only one member of the ground crew was anywhere near, and she shouted as she pulled her helmet on, "Hey! Prep for takeoff!"
The crew member's eyes widened as he spotted the symbol of the Rogues on her helmet, and he swung to obey her. Jaina scaled the ladder at surprising speed, considering that this fighter was years before the model she knew.
At the flip of a switch the starfighter hummed to life, an R2 unit settling itself in behind her. As she laid one hand on the targeting computer and wrapped the other around the joystick, she felt exhilaration flow through her. This is what I was born to do. I was born to fly.
"The second transport is away. The second transport is away."
This time the cheer, while no less enthusiastic, was muted, with less people in the hangar. Behind her, Jaina's new R2 unit beeped and squeaked to let her know they were primed for takeoff.
The starfighter lifted, the wheels retracting as the crewmember who'd helped her sprang back and tossed a salute her way before retreating. She turned the fighter towards the open shield doors, her other hand quickly programming into the computer the codes for the Rogue Squadron comm. Hopefully it hadn't been changed after the Rebellion.
Chatter flooded her headset, the fighter shooting out of the hangar and into bright sunlight. All below was snow, a trench nearby filled with Rebels who were manning the ground defence. Beyond, she spotted the recognizable shape of a shield generator. A third transport was moving ever upward, two fighters on either side, presumably members of Sword Squadron.
"Rogue Squadron, this is Rogue Leader. Report." To her shock, the familiar voice of Uncle Luke cut through her observations. However, she had no time to ruminate, as each member of the squadron rapped out their callsign. She needed to concentrate, so she wouldn't break her cover; she was hoping against hope that Rogue Eleven didn't exist in this time. That was her callsign.
"Rogue Eleven." Damn.
There was a small gap, and she realised that was her cue. "Rogue Twelve." Knowing that they would question a twelfth Rogue, she added hurriedly, "I was put on at the last minute. They had odd numbers escorting the transports."
"Copy that, Rogue Twelve. Stick tight. All flights close up, hawkshead formation. We've got company."
Jaina smiled. The hawkshead formation was a timeless maneuvre which never failed to work each time. For that reason, it had outlasted the Rebellion and the ever-changing face of the Rogues. Legend said that it was Luke Skywalker who, after the Battle of Yavin, had come up with the maneuvre to dodge small TIE fighters.
The smile slipped off her face as the enemy came into view. R2 tweedled anxiously, and she blurted out, "Are those Imperial Walkers?! AT-ATs?" They were the stuff of legend also, although unlike her uncle's genius as a Rebel, they were barely talked about.
"Fraid so." The grim tone of a younger Wedge Antilles pierced her headset. "They're going to be hard to bring down. Any ideas, Rogue Leader?"
"We assault them head-on first and assess their shield and armour capability," decided Uncle Luke. "Then we decide what the next move is."
R2 told Jaina that they were less than a standard kilometre from the walkers and closing. Her targeting computer had all three in its sights: she selected the middle one and locked on. It surprised her that her hand was shaking. Yuuzhan Vong were nothing; bounty hunters were nothing. This was a new enemy, and for the first time she didn't know how they would react.
If only pretending to be Yun-Harla again would work on these guys.
The Imperials, however, did not believe in religion — they served a higher entity: the Force. They fought on behalf of its servants. Darth Vader and the Emperor.
My grandfather's alive. He's a Sith.
"Everything fine, Twelve?" She should have known Uncle Luke would sense her worry, and she closed herself off in the Force. "We'll find a way to bring them down."
"Copy that, Leader. Primed and in the green."
As Uncle Luke told the squadron to pre-load their laser guns, she was reminded of something her father had told her when she was young and learning to fly. You don't know what you can do until you get it up as high as you can go.
"Here we go," she muttered, the hand which had been manipulating the targeting computer now coming to rest on the trigger joystick. "Here goes nothing."
And before she knew it, she was flying through a barrage of red lasers, her fighter swooping and rolling as she dodged the walker's fire and returned her own. In her peripheral vision, she noticed as she flew between two of them that their fire only seemed to bounce off the grey armoured plating.
In her headset several Rogues were shouting for assistance. Rogue Eleven had heat-seeking fire locked on to his tail, and Jaina came around to assist. "Thanks, Twelve. I would have been bantha fodder if you hadn't come in when you did."
"Don't overthink it, Eleven. Leader, what's the go?"
"Coming around for another pass. Attack pattern delta."
This was another formation Jaina knew, and she automatically closed up with Rogue Eleven, the other fighter tight on her right wing. When they were nearly over Echo Base, they turned again towards the walkers. Up ahead, Uncle Luke was dodging fire, the walkers strafing the air around the squadron.
"This is Rogue Seven, I'm hit! Can't bail!" Before anyone could respond, the comm erupted into static, and then nothing. Jaina bit her lip as she banked to the left to avoid the fireball which had been Rogue Seven. At home, Rogue Seven was Myn Donos. He'd died in the war against the Vong.
There was no time to waste as Jaina and her new wingmate went on their second attack run, skimming the ground in an attempt to find a weak spot in the walkers further down.
Still no luck, and Jaina cursed as she regained altitude. There had to be some way to take these things down. It had been done before, in her time — but how? That was the part of the story which Uncle Luke always left out.
"Rogue Three, come in."
"Copy, Rogue Leader."
"Wedge, I've lost my gunner. You'll have to make this shot. I'll cover for you. Set your harpoon. Follow me on the next pass."
Her uncle was smart, even at twenty-two. He was counting on taking out the walkers using the one method they weren't expecting — ropes. If the middle walker fell, perhaps that would set the others back a bit.
With her uncle and Wedge aiming for the middle, Jaina set the right walker in her sights. R2 beeped something about her targeting computer, and she waved the comment aside with a monosyllabic response. Time to return to Belt-Runner I.
Closing her eyes, Jaina sank into the Force, letting it guide her. In her mind's eye, the walker's weak spots pulsated: the 'knees' of the AT-AT where the armour periodically parted to show the metal innards within. She tuned out the chatter over her comm, her trigger hand easing the joystick to line up her guns. Four hundred metres and closing.
At two hundred metres, she fired two quick bursts into each of the walker's front legs before spiralling up into the blue sky above. She came to herself and righted the starfighter just in time to see the walker below blow into flames, falling to its front knees and then crashing to one side. It was done.
"Nice shot, Twelve," came a congratulatory cry from her headset, and she smiled. First kill of this era.
The middle walker was also down and out, courtesy of Uncle Luke and Wedge. Somehow, even without his gunner, Uncle Luke seemed to be perfectly all right. He was rapping out orders for the remaining Rogues to close up and concentrate on the third walker. It would be aiming for the shield generator.
"Rogues, Echo Base has just informed me the final two transports are departing. We need to hold off the walkers until the transports are away." True to his word, the large form of the final transports were lifting off, four fighters flanking them. All the infantry in the trench were gone, either killed or on the transports. It was down to the Rogues now.
They flew as a group over the trench, before banking and creating a V-formation for the final pass. As much as Jaina wanted to use the Force to take this one down, she knew what happened here. She had to let history take its course.
Again the walker fired, and Wes Janson banked once, before being hit in one wing and excusing himself to make a crash-landing so he could repair. Uncle Luke returned fire, before his frantic voice came through the comm, "I've been hit!"
As much as she wanted to help, Jaina held back. Her uncle's fighter was angling towards the ground before the walker, and she looked away as it impacted. She fired again and again, deliberately aiming at the armoured plating. This was Uncle Luke's to take down.
History dictated what happened next: having climbed out of his fighter free and clear moments before it was flattened by the walker, Uncle Luke, a small figure in orange overalls, released a harpoon and let it carry him up to the underside of the walker. He fumbled for a moment at his belt, and she saw his blue saber ignite and he slashed at the armour.
He threw something small inside and then detached, landing in the snow with a soft thud. For a moment, he gave the oncoming Rogues a thumbs-up, before gesturing wildly in the opposite direction. Get out.
The walker fired one last time at the shield generator, managing a successful hit before Uncle Luke's grenade did its work. Fire blossomed out of the walker's sides, and it barely hesitated before swaying to one side and falling with an almighty crash.
In Jaina's headset, the Rogues cheered. A low, dark remark came from the voice which belonged to Rogue Ten. "For Alderaan." It hit her then: her mother's homeworld had only been destroyed three years before. The loss was still fresh for its people and for the Alliance.
Wedge gave a quick command to land and regroup nearby the now-obliterated Echo Base, and as Jaina swung to obey she caught sight of a well-known YT-1300 zooming out of the ruins and into the skies, rear shield deflectors on at full power. From the stories, she knew that her father, mother and Chewie were on board, beginning the fateful flight to Bespin.
She landed, powering down her fighter with a sigh and lifting the cockpit. It was a lot more cramped than she remembered, but she supposed that was because the majority of starfighters these days were built for a crew of two.
Climbing down the ladder, she was accosted by a human man in the same orange overalls as she. "Rogue Twelve?" When she nodded, he seized her hand in his firm grip. "I'm Eleven. You saved my bacon out there."
"Nonsense." She could not help herself from smiling. "We're wingmates. I'm supposed to help you."
He released her hand, and she removed her helmet, shaking out her brown hair. "What's your name?"
"Fabian Parry. You?"
They were walking towards where the rest of the group was assembled, including Uncle Luke, who had been retrieved by Wedge. "Jaina." Somehow, she thought giving her full name would raise too many questions. Safer to just be Jaina for the moment.
Uncle Luke looked up as they approached, his young face creasing as he smiled. "Hello, Rogues. Good work out there. We'll take a couple of hours to rest, refuel and repair, before we take off for the rendezvous."
Jaina knew that Uncle Luke would set course for Dagobah, rather than the rendezvous.
And she was going with him. To see Yoda.
There were questions to be answered.
