[A/N: this is a chapter I've wanted to do for a while, to make it a true crossover story. And I couldn't resist putting some classic Star Wars characters into this. And in case anyone is wondering, any and all SW stuff in this story will follow the Expanded Universe, the real Star Wars canon. Enjoy!]

9

/Core Worlds Region, near the edge of the Corellia System/

"And you're sure this is the same anomaly, Lieutenant?" Ackbar's chin barbels twitched as he spoke, staring deep into the pulsing, churning wormhole that was swirling in front of Home One. The other Mon Calamari he was speaking to handed him a datapad.

"Yes, Admiral. The sensory data recovered from Blue Squadron at the time of Lieutenant Corvin's disappearance confirms it."

The Admiral's eyes moved independently of each other, one studied the datapad, the other remained fixed on the wormhole. "It's been many years since Corvin went missing. How do we even know he's still alive?"

"We don't, sir," the junior office replied, pointing a flippered hand at the anomaly. "But if he is, he's on the other side of that portal."

"The survivors of that mission report that Admiral Karath's fleet followed him through the portal, leaving the two remaining X-wings from Blue Squadron behind. Those pilots were unable to follow because the wormhole collapsed."

"That is correct, Admiral. Corvin's astromech was carrying the locations of the Empire's AT-AT factories on Kuat, as well as blueprints for the walkers themselves."

"Had the Lieutenant not gone missing, those blueprints could have helped our forces turn the tide on Hoth. But, those waves have long since washed against the rocks. We must turn our focus to the waters that lie before us." Ackbar entered a command into his chair, sending it forward, towards the transparisteel viewport on the ship's bridge. His eyes once again focused on the portal. He was still contemplating the risk of entering it for one X-wing and it's pilot. He was in command of the entire Rebel Fleet, and to take his ships through the wormhole ran the risk of him never being able to return, throwing the entire Rebellion into disarray. He had no knowledge of where the anomaly would take them to, or how long time passed on the other side. He wasn't even sure if the normal laws of physics would apply.

"Lieutenant, I want a reconnaissance flight through that wormhole. Volunteers only. We can't risk the entire fleet, but I want to know what's on the other side. See to it personally."

"Right away, Admiral." The Mon Cal officer saluted, and turned on his heel towards the turbolift.

/Main Hangar Bay, Home One/

Tightening his grip on the hydrospanner, Deek kept a close eye on the gauge in his hand as he tuned up his X-wing's laser actuator, adjusting the final point to finish zeroing his ship's primary weapons. The hangar techs may have disliked him for it, but he always preferred to do as much of the tinkering on his fighter as he was allowed. Anything involving the hyperdrive and the shield generator had to be done by the techs, but everything else was fair game for him. He and Darick used to spend hours talking shop, and his friend was the one who taught him how to manually zero the laser cannons of an X-wing. Deek looked out towards the magnetic forcefield over the hangar door, and stared out at the massive wormhole looming beyond. It looked oddly familiar, and he wondered if it was the same one he and Corvin encountered years ago.

And if it is, I better make sure the old girl is ready to fly.

He wiped the grease from his hands, and pocketing the gauge, stood back to admire his handiwork. He walked around the snubfighter, pausing for a moment to look at the silhouettes of TIE Fighters painted on his fuselage. His kill count had grown considerably in the last few years, to the point where he put his kills into groups of ten; those groups indicated by red silhouettes, while the stragglers were simply black. Thirty-eight kills occupied the fuselage to date, and he hoped to add more soon.

Not quite as impressive as Commander Antilles, but I think I've made my mark. He continued his walk-around, brushing his hand against the nose cone as he reached the bow of the craft. As he passed his portside wings, he saw his new wingman, Zyx Qwiring approaching him from the far end of the hangar. The Gand's green, armored carapace clashed with his orange flightsuit, but it was something Deek had gotten used to over time.

I've got to stop thinking of him as "new," he's been on my wing for two years now, he thought. Zyx's mouthparts clicked as he drew closer.

"Deek, Zyx is pleased to report he has been medically cleared to fly. He is fit to be your wing-Gand once more," he said, his mouthparts forming as much of a smile as Gands could approximate.

Zyx's species referred to themselves in the third-person, believing that the pronoun "I" was to be reserved for Gands that had proven their worth to their people. To use the first-person without having done anything worthy of such a moniker was considered arrogant and rude for a Gand.

"Zyx, that's great news. Hopefully we'll see some action soon," Deek replied, pausing to examine some carbon scoring along the aft section of his fighter.

"Look at that. Some Imp pilot got a lucky hit on me last week." He pointed out the marking to Zyx.

"Qwiring offers his apologies. Had he been able to fly, Qwiring could have prevented the damage to your fighter." Deek had also learned early on in his partnership with Zyx that when a Gand felt they had offended another- or are ashamed of themselves- they would refer to themselves in a lesser name. Normally, Zyx used his given name, and when he showed remorse, he used his surname. In extreme acts of repentance, he even referred to himself simply as "Gand." Fortunately, that last title did not occur often.

"It's okay, Zyx. He wasn't quite that lucky. A meter to the right, and I would have been toast. But my shields took most of the hit, and I think this is just cosmetic damage at worst." He licked his thumb, and immediately regretted that decision, as he still had quite a bit of grease on his hands. After spitting to get the taste out of his mouth, he scrubbed away a bit of the dark scorching on the hull, revealing the grey paint beneath.

"In any case, Zyx is pleased you were not injured during his absence. But the Emdee-Fours have assured Zyx that the carapace on his arm has hardened and Zyx is as healthy as ever."

Zyx had recently taken a leave of absence on his homeworld of Gand, where he had been attacked and mutilated by Breather Gand. Zyx's species evolved along two separate paths, with Zyx belonging to the lungless subspecies. That meant he was unaffected by toxins or inhospitable atmospheres. The other subspecies of Gand evolved to have lungs adapted to breathing ammonia, which required them to wear respirators when they went offworld. Breathers often resented the Lungless Gand, and many took to violence. Zyx's arm had been torn off, and he suffered severe wounds all over his body.

However, Zyx was fortunate enough to be found and recovered by Home One's medical team, and a long soak in a bacta tank had acclerated the Gand's impressive healing factor.

Deek watched the turbolift doors open up across the hangar, and Lieutenant Xerin emerged, calling out names of the fighter squadrons as he made his way to the center of the deck.

"Blue Squadron, Gold Squadron, Green Squadron, fall in!" Pilots grabbed their helmets and rushed to him, expecting a mission. Deek grabbed his own helmet from the tool cart nearby, motioning for Zyx to follow.

"Zee, what's going on?" Deek asked, calling the Lieutenant by his nickname.

"You'll see. Listen up, pilots! The Admiral has ordered a recon flight through the wormhole. No doubt you've all seen it out there. And there's no telling what to expect on the other side, so this one is entirely optional. Admiral Ackbar wants volunteers only."

Deek took a step forward. "Tell me something, Zee: is this the anomaly that took Darick and the Star Destroyers three years ago?"

"The same."

"Then I'm in." Deek pulled his helmet over his head and buckled the chin strap.

Zyx stepped up and placed a three-fingered hand on Deek's shoulder. "Zyx will be on your wing."

Deek nodded his head at his squadmate, a relieved grin on his face. A Y-wing pilot from Gold Squadron stepped up next, followed by two of Green Squadron's A-wing pilots. More and more pilots began to join in, and eventually the entire hangar deck had set their boots on the line.

"Three full squadrons to retrieve one man? The Admiral won't be happy about that." Xerin said, his flippered hands fidgeting.

"Corvin is one of us," said Green Four, "He's a brother-in-arms, and if there's three Destroyers in there with him, he's gonna need all the help he can get. We won't abandon him. Not now; not ever." The entire wing of pilots nodded in agreement, and Deek just barely managed to keep back tears.

"I suppose there's no use in arguing for a smaller flight?" Xerin asked.

Silence met his pleas. Xerin tugged at his chin barbels for a moment, then sighed.

"Well, in any case, you're going to need a support ship to refuel and rest. I know the Admiral will never allow Home One to cross the gateway, but perhaps we can have you all reassigned to another cruiser temporarily, provided their crew is also willing to venture out into the unknown." He scanned the crowd of fighter jocks. "If you're minds are made up, I will present my report to Admiral Ackbar." Cheers rose up from the assembled crowd, and they dispersed, rushing back to check on their fighters, more eager than ever to take flight and rescue their comrade.

/Home One Bridge\

"Unacceptable!" The holographic image of Councilor Borsk Fey'lya stared daggers at Admiral Ackbar. "We cannot just send three full squadrons of fighters into the unknown for the sake of one human pilot!" The Admiral had requested a meeting via holocomm with the Rebel leaders to convince them to authorize cruiser support on the planned rescue mission. Mon Mothma had not answered her comm immediately, leaving Ackbar alone with his largest roadblock, Councilor Fey'lya, a Bothan politician with a well-known disdain for Humans, as well as the Admiral. As of late, Fey'lya had been holding the sacrifice of his fellow Bothans to retrieve secret plans for the Empire's new Death Star over the heads of Alliance brass, wearing that sacrifice like a badge of honor. He attempted to use that as leverage at every opportunity during the planning phase of the Rebellion's upcoming assault against the station. Fey'lya was currently at the Rebellion's new Sullust headquarters, overseeing the base.

"Councilor, my pilots are standing firm on this, they will not reduce their numbers. Regardless of that, any fighters we send through would need cruiser support to rest and refuel."

Councilor Fey'lya's nostrils flared. "That is beside the point, Admiral. The point I am trying to make, is that I doubt your pilots would all step up and volunteer to rescue one lost Bothan."

"Councilor, not all in the Rebellion share your distrust of aliens. My fighter pilots share a deep camaraderie with each other. Lt. Corvin was one of their own, and they are willing to risk their lives to bring him back."

"Hmph. How very noble of them. Regardless, Admiral, my hands are tied. There are no ships to spare."

"That is not entirely true, Councilor Fey'lya." A second image had flared to life while Borsk was speaking, and a woman in a loose, flowing white dress now stood beside him on Ackbar's holotable. She was at the midway point of her life, and even though her eyes were tired, she maintained an image of beauty and poise. The silver shimmer of her holographic projection failed to capture the red of her short-cut hair, nor the green of her eyes. She folded her hands across her midsection, greeting Admiral Ackbar with a warm smile.

"Mon Mothma, a pleasure as always."

The Rebel leader bowed in return. "Admiral. My apologies for being late. Commander- or should I say- former Commander Skywalker has made contact with me recently, and I was discussing the rescue of Captain Solo."

"No apologies are necessary, Madam Councilor. What news from Tatooine?"

"Skywalker informs me that the droids have been dispatched, and General Calrissian is also in with the Hutt's personal guard."

"An unconventional rescue, for an unconventional soldier, that is for certain," Ackbar chuckled, his barbels quivering. His eyes split their focus on the two politicians. "But those waves are yet to wash against us. Now we must turn to the matter of my pilots."

Mon Mothma nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. Now then, despite what my colleague says, there is one cruiser available. Currently in drydock, but with a skeleton crew and droid assistance, she can be made ready to support your pilots."

The Bothan Councilor scoffed. "You can't possibly mean the Valor? That ship is a relic."

"I do, indeed. She is an older model, an MC30c that was converted from a passenger liner. She does not require a large crew compliment as it is, and her hangar can accommodate three full squadrons and their deck crew and techs. If you can put together a command staff, I'll authorize an emergency transfer of your fighter staff to her immediately."

"This is preposterous! You may as well send those men and women into the Maw, for what you're asking of them!" The Councilor protested.

"If the pilots are willing to take that risk, I cannot and will not stop them, Borsk. The decision is final." Mon Mothma kept her warm smile on, while still projecting absolute authority.

"With our attack on the Emperor looming, we may very well need every available pilot at our command. Corvin was-- is- a great one, and if he is still alive, I would hate to lose him. And if there is life on the other side of the portal, we may very well find useful allies there as well. Admiral, I will leave you in charge of assembling a command crew for the Valor. Gentlemen, good day." And with that, Mon Mothma's image faded. Councilor Fey'lya cut his own link without another word, clearly angry after having his authority usurped by one of the few capable of doing so.

Admiral Ackbar nodded thoughtfully, and retreated to his office just off the main bridge. Inside, a globe of water was suspended via repulsorlifts, a diverse selection of fish native to his home world swimming inside. He stared deep into the floating orb, finding comfort in watching them move. He inhaled, finally able to breath comfortably in the humid conditions of his office, since the climate on the bridge was adjusted to fit the needs of the majority human staff aboard Home One at present. The Admiral didn't mind accommodating the aliens, or he at least didn't show it if he did. Any prejudices he may have had about Humans, he kept to himself, and never let it interfere with the best interests of the Rebellion.

He circled the aquarium and took a seat at his desk, activating the comm system.

"Lieutenant Xerin, report to my office. I have a new assignment for you."