Blackness. Nothing all around the elite Rogue Squadron. Wedge Antilles, elite of the elite, sighed. Another phony report of another phony Death Star. These were becoming too common.
Wedge keyed the comlink for the squadron's private frequency. "Rogues, go around and check to see if there's any sign of Imperial presence - any. Past, current, or future." The rest of the Rogues checked in, but then Corran Horn spoke hurriedly.
"Leader, Nine, I've got a really bad feeling about this. Let's split before the TIE's show up." Translation: Corran felt danger through the Force, and when a half-Jedi feels danger, you know that there's trouble. So they should scram before the TIE's got there. But, of course, it was too late. As soon as Wedge opened his mouth to speak, a crackling squeal came over the comlink. //Jamming!// Wedge thought.
"Evasive!" He shouted to no one in particular, mainly out of reflex. "Gate, break through the jamming!" He called to the droid behind him. An affirmative whistle answered.
And then the TIE – Twin Ion Engine – Fighter's were on them, blazing away with their wingtip cannons. By the number of flashes Wedge saw blaze past him, he estimated that there were about 7 fighters behind him. He knew that they were in the thick of it – it being the ambush carefully planned to trap Rogue Squadron.
Well, they wouldn't go down without a fight.
Wedge linked his laser cannons to fire two at a time – less of a punch but faster recharge rate. He squeezed the trigger and fired as fast as the aiming program went from red, to yellow, and to green, signifying a target lock. All the while avoiding the same position, except the positions switched: His X-wing in the TIE Fighters aiming brackets. And then the comm squealed back to life, transmitting cries of triumph, pain, and fear.
"---Can't---im!" "AHH!" "Two, break port!" "Got 'im!" "Another one down!" "Get him off me, I can't shake him!! AHHH!" "Five's gone!" "There goes Nine!" "GAVIN!" "There's moving too fast! I can't get a target loc--"
Static.
He checked his scanner board, still squeezing the trigger and zigg-zagging, diving, and jukeing. No one was still alive.
Names ran through Wedge's mind. Corran… Gavin…Tycho…Asyr…
And with a cry of anguish, Wedge Antilles sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat streamed down his face, soaked his back and bed. It was cold. He shook his head, and checked his chrono.
0900.
"Blast it, Tycho, why didn't you wake me up...?" He growled, the post-sleep haze clouding the recent events. He stood up and stretched, his joints creaking.
And with the creak of his joints he remembered the battle again, and he let out another anguished scream. He hollered the names of his lost squadron, the names of his best friends. While he knew that Winter, Tycho's wife, wouldn't be much better off, probably worse, he could only think of how his entire life, all of his friends, had been swiped away within 10 minutes. He had barely escaped with his life himself, and he wished that he hadn't.
He lost everything in that ambush. His X-wing was barely in working condition, and had been decommitioned. His astromech droid, Gate, had been blasted into a smoking ruin, beyond repair. And recently, his girlfriend Qwi Xux had left him. The only source of comfort he thought that he had left was Booster Terrik, and his time was spent comforting his daughter, Mirax, whose husband had died in the ambush.
Wedge was even on the verge of being drummed out of the New Republic military. In the weeks since his squadron's death, he had been demoted down to Flight Officer again and court martialed for lack of appearances at meetings. All of this while he had barely left his quarters.
Couldn't those idiots in charge of the military tell that he was a broken soul? Nothing left to him. He had nothing left to him. Nothing...
Wedge keyed the comlink for the squadron's private frequency. "Rogues, go around and check to see if there's any sign of Imperial presence - any. Past, current, or future." The rest of the Rogues checked in, but then Corran Horn spoke hurriedly.
"Leader, Nine, I've got a really bad feeling about this. Let's split before the TIE's show up." Translation: Corran felt danger through the Force, and when a half-Jedi feels danger, you know that there's trouble. So they should scram before the TIE's got there. But, of course, it was too late. As soon as Wedge opened his mouth to speak, a crackling squeal came over the comlink. //Jamming!// Wedge thought.
"Evasive!" He shouted to no one in particular, mainly out of reflex. "Gate, break through the jamming!" He called to the droid behind him. An affirmative whistle answered.
And then the TIE – Twin Ion Engine – Fighter's were on them, blazing away with their wingtip cannons. By the number of flashes Wedge saw blaze past him, he estimated that there were about 7 fighters behind him. He knew that they were in the thick of it – it being the ambush carefully planned to trap Rogue Squadron.
Well, they wouldn't go down without a fight.
Wedge linked his laser cannons to fire two at a time – less of a punch but faster recharge rate. He squeezed the trigger and fired as fast as the aiming program went from red, to yellow, and to green, signifying a target lock. All the while avoiding the same position, except the positions switched: His X-wing in the TIE Fighters aiming brackets. And then the comm squealed back to life, transmitting cries of triumph, pain, and fear.
"---Can't---im!" "AHH!" "Two, break port!" "Got 'im!" "Another one down!" "Get him off me, I can't shake him!! AHHH!" "Five's gone!" "There goes Nine!" "GAVIN!" "There's moving too fast! I can't get a target loc--"
Static.
He checked his scanner board, still squeezing the trigger and zigg-zagging, diving, and jukeing. No one was still alive.
Names ran through Wedge's mind. Corran… Gavin…Tycho…Asyr…
And with a cry of anguish, Wedge Antilles sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat streamed down his face, soaked his back and bed. It was cold. He shook his head, and checked his chrono.
0900.
"Blast it, Tycho, why didn't you wake me up...?" He growled, the post-sleep haze clouding the recent events. He stood up and stretched, his joints creaking.
And with the creak of his joints he remembered the battle again, and he let out another anguished scream. He hollered the names of his lost squadron, the names of his best friends. While he knew that Winter, Tycho's wife, wouldn't be much better off, probably worse, he could only think of how his entire life, all of his friends, had been swiped away within 10 minutes. He had barely escaped with his life himself, and he wished that he hadn't.
He lost everything in that ambush. His X-wing was barely in working condition, and had been decommitioned. His astromech droid, Gate, had been blasted into a smoking ruin, beyond repair. And recently, his girlfriend Qwi Xux had left him. The only source of comfort he thought that he had left was Booster Terrik, and his time was spent comforting his daughter, Mirax, whose husband had died in the ambush.
Wedge was even on the verge of being drummed out of the New Republic military. In the weeks since his squadron's death, he had been demoted down to Flight Officer again and court martialed for lack of appearances at meetings. All of this while he had barely left his quarters.
Couldn't those idiots in charge of the military tell that he was a broken soul? Nothing left to him. He had nothing left to him. Nothing...