The office was like a thousand others that had existed throughout military history. Generally austere, with a few trinkets from various campaigns scattered about the walls. The only furniture in the room was a desk that had been constructed out of various materials found around the base, and the poor excuse for a chair that had been placed behind it. It was not the most memorable of rooms, but anyone entering it would have had a strange feeling of déjà vu. Functionality over form had always been the watchword in military circles, and would most likely always be, as long as militaries existed in this universe, or others.
The scene playing out in the room was not especially singular either, at least to the casual observer. A young lady, somewhere in her mid twenties, stood in front of the desk with her dark brown eyes caged forward, trying her best to concentrate on some invisible point on the stark metal walls. She wasn't especially beautiful, or even striking in any way. She was the kind of person that made up the mass portion of the population; someone noone ever noticed as they passed her on the streets. Not that she would have cared to be noticed, regardless of her physical condition. It wasn't in her character to want to draw attention to herself, which made her position in front of this desk even more uncomfortable.
Her long brown hair was worn in a sloppily constructed bun, while her too-thin body was concealed in the bright orange flightsuit of the Alliance Starfighter Command, the one feature of her personage that attracted any attention at all. Her eyes were set too far apart, or her nose was too far down, to bring any real attention to that area of her body. The uniform was her identifying mark, her only claim to distinction, though she would not have been the one to point out that fact. It was likely that a thought like that would never have even entered into any of her calculations of the world. Flight Officer Heli Certense was most likely one of the most singularly un-ambitious and unmemorable personages in the universe. This made it even more surprising to those who actually noticed her that trillions of other beings just like her existed all over the universe, going about their daily tasks and living their lives out without a single attempt to change their positions in the world.
The only difference was that none of those trillions had joined the Rebel Alliance, and none of those trillions were starfighter pilots. The difference was that Heli had wanted to change her position in the universe, and had done so. The fact that she had managed to assume an equally unnoticeable career as a pilot was either impressive or frightening to those who knew her. She did have friends, of course, the kind that most singularly unnoticeable people have. Those friends had wondered what could have brought her to decide that the Rebellion was her place in the world, but that question quickly gave way to more important ones, the kind that always obsess young pilots, or young people in general. They would have all wondered how someone as unnoticeable as Heli could ever end up standing in front of the desk of an Alliance Starfighter Wing Commander, for any reason whatever, if they had still been alive. However, their status as mortals had been changed rather abruptly about four days earlier, in some of the most intense fighting the wing had ever seen.
That was not why Heli was standing there, however, waiting for her wing commander to lift his head from her files and speak. She was there because, for once in her life, she had done something rather noticeable.
Heli's squadron had disintegrated around her minutes into the battle. They had been flying old Z-95 Headhunters, snubfighters that had become obsolete before Heli had even been born, escorting a flight of Y-Wing Assault Bombers against an Imperial ship construction facility. What had been meant to be a quick strike had turned into a fight for survival when multiple Imperial capital ships had jumped into system and disgorged large numbers of Twin Ion Engine(TIE) Fighters. In itself, this was not an especially significant thing. This particular ambush would not be of any note to either historians or military strategists: the Alliance often had to deal with largely unreliable data, and lost a great deal of its fighters to ambush. Their ability to do significant damage despite these losses was a point in their favor, but merely as a note in some general's memoirs. These battles were small pinpricks in the side of an immense giant, and only the names of those battles would ever make it into the history books. The only ones who would ever care about the battles themselves would be those who flew in them.
The battle had been of no great importance: the losses had been no greater or worse than had been felt all over the Alliance. However, it had left Heli's squadron severely undermanned, to the point where her superiors saw it necessary to disband it completely. Under normal circumstances, the survivors would be recycled to other squadrons, and their missions would go on until they met their doom in some unimportant sector in the middle of nowhere. However, these were not normal circumstances. This rather unremarkable looking pilot had done something rather remarkable. It wouldn't ever get her into the history books, and it certainly hadn't been a crushing blow to the Empire, but it had brought her notice, for the first time in her life.
Flight Officer Heli Certense had regrouped the few survivors of her squadron, and led them out of the battle as soon as a general retreat was ordered. This had certainly been an uncharacteristic maneuver for Heli, but not particularly remarkable. She had been following standard procedure: after a certain number of people in the chain of command were killed, command of the squadron had fallen to Heli. She had taken command because it was what was expected of her. Heli had always, always done what was expected of her. However, through some fluke of fate, an Imperial cruiser had shown up late for the battle. Maybe their nav coordinates had been off, maybe the captain had wanted to make sure all the systems were performing at top spec before they jumped. Whatever the reason, a Carrack class cruiser had dropped out of hyperspace directly in the path of Heli's squadrons escape vector.
Whether out of some instinct, or some locked away stash of ingenuity, Heli had acted completely out of character. She had immediately barked out orders, formed up what was left of the squadron and launched torpedoes, all in enough time to get off a barrage before the Carrack even brought up its shields. Seconds later, the once mighty capital ship had become a drifting, lifeless hulk. After that, Heli's squadron, along with several others, had a clear path out of the battlefield: her quick thinking had saved numerous lives.
Of course, none of this had occurred to Heli. As far as she knew, she was facing her commanding officer because her squadron had been decimated, and she was the only officer senior enough to chew out. It wasn't in her character to expect gratitude for her recent acts; the thought never even occurred to her.
The base wing commander, an older looking Duro Lt. Colonel named Takera, looked up at her and raised his brow inquisitively. The young human standing in front of him seemed to be as nervous as if she were in front of a full military tribunal. He never understood exactly how humans worked; some were brash and daring, others were meek and unassuming, yet they could all surprise you again and again. Of course, now he had to decide what to do with this particular human: the Alliance needed fighter squadron leaders, and almost any candidate would do. Takera just preferred sending out squadron commanders who could keep their people alive. He needed to know if this woman could do that.
Up until this point, he would have never even considered it; he had noticed her, of course, as any good wing commander knows all of his people, dead or alive, but Heli had never stood out. She was an ace, of course, as were all Alliance pilots who survived more than five missions without running away, but that was hardly an indicator into someones personality. The worst thing was that most of those who could tell him about her personality had died in the vacuum of space a few days ago.
"You know why you were called here, right, Heli?" The Duro colonel asked, giving her his best approximation of a human smile from his seat.
"Yes sir," she replied, staring straight into the wall behind him, "I disobeyed orders. I did not entirely disengage from the battle and discharged weaponry without authorization."
Takera chuckled genuinely, "You think this is a disciplinary hearing?"
Heli began to look confused, but kept her eyes caged, "What else could it be, sir? I haven't been called before you before, because I've always done my job right. I messed up this time."
The Duro shook his head and continued to smile, "Heli, you are entirely too uptight for the Rebellion. Was the Empire not hiring the week you tried to sign up?"
"Sir, I messed up, and I'm willing to turn in my wings, but I don't think you should mock me. I made a mistake, and I'm willing to pay the price."
"This isn't a dismissal review, Heli. You're being promoted. Now stop making me nervous and sit down; you're at ease, flight officer," the Duro motioned to the conform chair in front of his desk. Heli took the seat as ordered, but continued to move in a rigid patterns; Takera couldn't help but think she almost gave off the appearance of a droid that hadn't had an oil bath in years.
When she was finally seated, Heli ventured to speak, "What are you talking about, sir?"
"You're being promoted. You're also up for the Kalidor Crescent, but you know how long it takes them to process commendations."
"But... I disobeyed orders."
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're not the Empire. We encourage creative thought from out pilots. The only time we get angry is if you endanger lives needlessly. You didn't: you saved them."
Heli started to object, trying to wrap her mind around what had just been placed in her lap, "Sir, I'm just a pilot... I don't... I don't know how to be an officer!"
"Welcome to the club. I served with the Chandrilan Defense Fleet for twenty years before joining up with the Rebellion, and I still don't get it. But I do my best. So will you."
"Sir...," Heli was trying to think of some way out of this trap she'd fallen into, "I don't deserve a promotion. Most of my squadron was destroyed."
"Which you couldn't help. Look, Flight Officer Certense, this is an order. You're getting promoted whether you like it or not," the Duro stated; it had suddenly become key to the colonel that Heli take this promotion. Anyone who was this dead set against being a leader was the perfect candidate for the job. If she had jumped at the chance, he would have been more hesitant.
"That just doesn't make any sense to me, sir," Heli tried again, almost at the brink of tears; she just didn't know what to do in a situation like this. Her limited experiences just hadn't prepared her for the eventuality of doing something out of the ordinary, and taking the consequences, good or ill. She continued, "There are other, better pilots in my squadron."
"But they're all dead, if you'd forgotten. And they didn't lead half the wing out past a burning Carrack Cruiser that they had brought down through coordinated assault tactics."
"I was just trying to do my job, sir," Heli began, but was interrupted almost immediately.
The Colonels voice became cold, "Stop arguing with me, Flight officer. That is an order, understand?"
"Yessir," Heli almost grunted, looking more bewildered than ever.
The Colonel smiled again, and pressed forward, "Now, I've been looking over your file. You seem to be a pretty solid pilot; with seven fighter kills and ten missions under your belt, you've outlasted the average Alliance pilot. If you hadn't been... overlooked... before now, you would already be a squadron commander."
"I was fine with just flying sir," Heli asserted meekly.
"Yes, I suppose you were, Flight Officer Certense. But what you don't understand is that by not passing on your abilities, and by refusing promotion, you are hurting the Alliance."
"Sir, I would never..."
"I know, Heli; I'm sure you never thought of it this way. But you're going to have to start thinking like that. I'm giving you a squadron," the wing commander explained, taking a small box out of his desk.
Heli's eyes went wide, ""Yes sir. It's just that I don't have any experience in something like this."
"Neither do most new squadron commanders. You'll learn from your pilots, and they'll learn from you. Here, these are your new ranks," he offered Heli the box.
She opened it, and just stared at the rank insignia seated within. Nothing like this had ever happened to Heli in her entire life. She had never taken management positions at the odd jobs she had worked as a teenager, she had never tried to excel in anything. Now, here she was, excellence being forced upon her. Heli had never sought out anything like this, but she had always tried her best in whatever job she was given: it just seemed right to do the same thing here.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, "Will that be all?"
"That will be all, Lieutenant Certense. Good luck, and may the Force be with you."
Heli saluted, still uncomfortable with the new title, and performed a sharp about face. Though she would have never realized it, the girl had taken her first step into a much larger universe.
--------
Heli had been shipped out the following day on a Rebel transport carrying supplies to her destination, Ysala Base, where her new squadron was waiting for her. She'd been told that most of the pilots were new to the Rebellion, but weren't new to flying: former smugglers, former system defense personnel and even an ex-TIE pilot. They were all as different as could be, and for the first time in her life, Heli was worried. Her entire life, she had always done what she knew she had the capabilities and skills for. She had never once operated out of her league, never once taken a long shot. Therefore, she had never had to really worry about whether she could do a job: she always knew that she could before taking it.
Because of that one moment of impulsiveness during the last battle, she had been thrust into the position of having to do something she wasn't sure she could do for the first time in her life. Her entire life she had believed what others told her: that she was ordinary, unimaginative: she couldn't argue with their logic. She had never understood the lure of space travel, had never understood why other people her age enjoyed holodramas: she could never really imagine anything beyond what was in front of her. That was why her decision to join the Rebellion had been so strange. That first impulsive decision had lead to a series of events that lead to this new, impulsive decision, which had then lead to this whole new world of responsibility.
Since then, she had been sitting in the troop transport hold of the Wynssa Starflare, probably the only transport in the fleet named after an actress, an actress in Imperial holodramas no less. One of the other soldiers in the hold had told her that the captain who named it had been going for some kind of irony. Heli hadn't quite gotten it.
"What are you up to, Lieutenant? You've been staring at those datapads this whole damn trip," a voice came from behind her.
Heli looked up and saw a handsome young man with staff sergeant marks on his uniform smiling down at her. He had dark black, slightly slanted eyes and darkish skin, with military cut black hair under a Rebel Transport Corps cap. She wasn't quite sure why he had decided to talk to her: small talk had always been a chore for her. It wasn't that she lacked emotion: it was just that it seemed like everyone else was more interesting than her. Heli never felt that she had anything really valuable to add to a conversation, even if responses kept coming to her.
Finally, she decided he was just being polite and replied matter of factly, "I'm looking at the reports for my new command."
"Must be exciting. Hell, I remember when I got assigned my first transport once I got promoted to Crew Chief; granted, I wasn't in command of the whole ship, but I couldn't wait to get a chance at a position with some actual responsibility."
Heli wasn't certain why the Sergeant was still talking to her. Normally people would go away after the first polite response. "It's a job. I was assigned, so I'll fulfill my duties."
The sergeant raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly, "That's the first time I've heard that response from a fighter pilot, and I've transported quite a few of them. What's your name, LT?"
"Heli... Heli Certense... sergeant, why are you asking me all these questions?" she asked, straightforward as always.
The staff sergeant look embarrassed and chuckled nervously, "Well, I'll be operating out of Ysala Base with you; I figure I should know the person who's going to be escorting my transport around, keeping my crew alive. You don't think I'm hitting on you, do you?"
Heli was too surprised almost to respond, but exclaimed, "Of course not! I just want to get back to my work, Sergeant."
The sergeant smiled slightly, "You need to lighten up, LT. We might be in serious fight for our lives, but we can't just focus on the work. If you just shut yourself up in that datapad, without getting to know anyone, you'll have some problems commanding: I know, I've seen officers do it before."
Heli had never really had occasion to be annoyed before, because she'd never interacted with anyone who contradicted her entire thought process before: but she was beginning to learn what being annoyed was like.
"I'm over my head, ok, Sergeant? Is that what you want to hear? I'm just a fighter pilot, and I'm not very good at talking to people. All the friends I had in the galaxy died a couple of days ago, and now I'm being saddled in a position where I won't even be able to make friends!" Heli yelled at the sergeant.
"I'm sorry," the sergeant replied, looking at her in a different way, "Look, I can understand how strange leadership can be, but it doesn't isolate you from people."
"But I can't be friends with the other pilots, because they'll look at me as a leader! And I'm exactly the same as them! And I don't even know why I'm telling you this!" she huffed in a frustrated manner.
The sergeant shrugged, "Look, I'll leave you alone, but you can't learn about people from a datapad or a class. If you ever want some help with those interpersonal skills you haven't exactly been developing, drop by the enlisted lounge. I'll introduce you to the guys. This might be hard, and yeah, you might not be able to make friends with your pilots, but you can't be afraid of new experiences."
The sergeant turned to go and headed back towards the bridge, but was stopped by a call from Heli. He turned and saw her standing, a confused expression on her face. "Wait, Sergeant, what's your name?"
"Ellis Canson, LT. Remember that invitation," he replied, then walked out of the troop transport hold.
Heli couldn't for the life of her understand why she had asked him her name. She shouldn't have even cared: she just had to do her job. But she was starting to realize that that might not be enough: things had changed for her, and she had to change, even if she didn't know how. Maybe the only way to change would be to ask other people for help. It might be the only way for her to become the leader the Alliance wanted her to be.
-------
Heli had been met in the Ysala base hangar by her squadron exec, a tough looking Quarren with a limp. An exchange with the Deck Sergeant in charge of the hangar revealed that the Quarren, if nothing else, had a wide variety of vulgarities at his command. Heli didn't even know what half of them meant in basic, except that it wasn't something complimentary. Heli wasn't quite sure what to make of him: she'd never had someone like this under her command before. In fact, she hadn't had anyone under her command before.
Regardless of his attitude with the sergeant, he did seem to respect rank; his tone was more subdued when he spoke to Heli, "Well, ma'am, we have a busy schedule ahead of us: our squadron is the most collection of vlarkots... pardon my language... most useless collection of space trash this side of Wild Space. And this side of space is pretty damn big. Will you be introducin' y'self to them, ma'am?"
Heli pondered for a second as they made their way to the base turbolifts. "I... guess I'm supposed to talk to them... what do you think?"
"If I was in command, I would space the lot of 'em," the Quarren chortled, then continued, "But since I'm not, I don't rightly know, ma'am. I was a tech sergeant until a week ago: they found out I had space combat experience, so they promoted me and sent me here. Supposed to be a grand battle in this sector, ma'am."
"Well... then I suppose I better speak with them right away, if we might be going into combat soon... by the way, what was your name, Flight Officer?" Heli asked, quietly, as they stepped into the turbolift.
The Quarren punched in the floor number of the squadron briefing room, and the turbolift zoomed off, before he replied, "It's Ravin, Lieutenant Certense, and it be a pleasure to meet ya. I heard about that maneuver during the Bisant Raid: the scum you'll be commanding aren't easily impressed, but I must say that did it."
Heli was confused; she wasn't sure how the news of her last battle had traveled as quickly as it did. She didn't quite know how to take this: she had never been exposed to any kind of fame before. Her fellow Alliance soldiers, for that matter, had barely even noticed Heli. All this attention was unnerving at best, and scary at worst.
"Impressed... them?" she managed to get out.
"Yes ma'am, but that can only count for so much. Ya can't be so soft spoken, or else the bloodthirsty cutthroats'll take advantage of ya," Ravin advised, grinning from tentacle to tentacle.
Heli smiled slightly, "You don't seem to have a very high opinion of the squadron."
"Ma'am, I don't have what you would call a high opinion of anyone, including me own birth mother. But if you lead us like you lead that squadron out of hells fires... then I think I could survive with a wee lass like you in command."
Heli didn't have time to ponder what that meant, as the turbolift had come to a stop near the briefing room. "Don't you need to contact the squadron and get them assembled, Ravin?" Heli asked.
"No, ma'am. I took the liberty of assembling them there when you arrived. Even if you didn't speak to them, I could use the time to instruct them in not being complete wastes of their mothers wombs, or whatever else it was that they came out of."
Heli coughed slightly in discomfort. The Quarren's crass language would take some getting used to, but she knew she couldn't order him to stop. It was hard enough for him to tone his language down as much as he did when he spoke to a superior officer. His language when he had speaking to the Deck Sergeant had not been so unrestrained, and Heli had a feeling that she would be suppressing a very good officer if she tried to curb this idiosyncrasy.
Flight Officer Ravin preceded her into the squadron briefing room, his sergeant's voice bellowing the customary call to attention. As Heli entered, she noticed that some of the inhabitants were slower in their rise to attention than others, but at least none of the pilots ignored the order entirely. It was better than nothing, and from the way Ravin had been speaking, Heli had expected them all to just ignore her.
For a second, Heli wondered why the pilots were still standing at attention when she reached the front of the room, and then remembered who she was. She managed to get out a modulated, "At ease," keeping the nervousness out of her voice as much as she could.
"It's good to see you all, and I know we were all just shipped here from various bases across the Alliance, but I hope we're all able to work together well," Heli said, trying to think of what she was supposed to say.
A hand shot up in the back of the room. "Yes?" Heli asked
The pilot stood up, giving Heli a better view of her: she was a Consorran, a fur covered, feline species with long, capable arms. This particular Consorran had a coat of auburn with a light patch of white near her royal purple eyes. She spoke in a kind of languished purr. "Perhaps you might tell us your name, ma'am. That's usually how these things start off," There was insolence there, but a carefully constructed insolence that had been developed over the years. It would take a long time to remove a tone like that, if the speaker were even inclined to do so.
"Ah, right," Heli smiled slightly in embarrassment, "I'm Lieutenant Heli Certense. I'm from Moritania, a small colony planet on the edge of the Outer Rim, where I was a transport driver. I just got promoted, so I'm kind of new to all this... I guess the only thing I have to say is that if everyone works together, we'll stay alive."
"Not exactly the beacon of charisma, are ya... ma'am?" an intelligent looking avian Killsyn in a smuggler's trouser and vest drawled. His plumage was bright shades of yellow and purple, the better to attract mates: a blaster scar across his face hinted that mates weren't the only thing those colors attracted.
"Stow that, Berac," the insolent Consorran spat before Ravin could say anything, "We're all new to this whole teamwork thing. Scuttlebutt says she did well for her squadron in the past, so we might a well do well for her now."
"That's real interesting, coming from you, Lia. Weren't you the one who dropped and ran when the Imperials raided the smugglers cove on Grande Via?" Berac, the Killsyn, replied.
"That defense wasn't teamwork, it was desperation. I'll fight with people I can trust," Lia asserted lazily, stretching back in her chair.
"I think that what Berac is trying to say is that we can't really trust each other yet. We're a bunch of loners who just happened to join an operation that isn't the best job for a loner," a human with light brown, close cropped hair and light green eyes explained calmy. He was the most military looking of the bunch, and looked to be older than most.
"We'll become more than that," A light, hesitant voice from the front of the room piped into the conversation, reminding everyone that their commanding officer was still present. Ravin smiled slightly from his corner in the back of the room. He had seen Heli trying to build up to this, and had decided against intervening the argument because of it. His Lieutenant needed this. She needed to become a leader, and the only way that would happen is if she began speaking out.
"What?" came the voice of a dark blue skinned Wroonian male clothed in an Alliance jumpsuit. Most of the room had barely heard Heli's squeak.
"I said, we'll become more than just loners. We're all fighter pilots, and we all joined the Rebel Alliance for a reason. Maybe we don't know what the reason is yet, but the reason doesn't matter. We're here now, and that's what's important. Ravin says we'll be sent out soon, maybe in a matter of hours, or maybe in a day. I don't know. I do know that people will die, and ships will be destroyed. What will keep us alive is if we act as a team, not as individuals. We have to survive," Heli demanded, her voice moving from that squeak to a steady, low command voice. Everyone in the room listened intently, refusing to miss a single word.
Ravin broke the silence with his booming sergeant's voice, "Alright, you heard her. Everyone break for two hours. Most of us just arrived today, and the LT's right: you need to know each other in order to work as a team. If I catch any tc'lakin loners sulking off to their rooms, they'll be shining the galley for the next month! Is that understood?"
A somewhat more enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!" emanated from the room.
Heli smiled at that; she liked Ravin, and his somewhat crass, forward way of doing things. In contrasted well with her more subdued, unassuming personality. She spoke up again, "Thanks, Flight Officer Ravin. I'll see you all in two hours, after I find out what our orders are. If we're not getting sent out any time soon, I'll have you hit the simulators. You're all dismissed."
Ravin boomed out another call to attention, and then dismissed the room officially. As the pilots streamed out of the briefing room, the military looking man stopped to talk to Heli.
"Lieutenant Certense, might I have a word with you?" he asked.
"Yeah, that'd be fine... Flight Officer Tandem," Heli replied, uncertain again what to do in this situation.
"I'm guessing you've read our bios by now. So you know I'm ex-Imperial, a former pilot with the TIE corps. I know we've got a lot of ex-Imperial soldiers in our ranks, but it doesn't ever seem like we're totally welcome. Some people don't even trust General Madine."
Heli wasn't sure what to say. She quickly decided to just make her usual non-committal response and nod understandingly.
"So I just want to assure you that I'll do my job, Lieutenant. And you seem like the kind of leader who understands that," Tandem spoke clearly, his eyes piercing into her. Heli resisted the urge to look away.
"Thank you, Tandem; that means a lot to me. I suppose the best way for you to remedy that distrust would be if you went to meet with the other pilots. I'm sure they'll accept you after we've gone through a couple missions."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, "I guess time is really the only thing I can rely on. I'll see you in two hours, then."
Heli smiled warmly, "In two hours, then, Flight Officer Tandem."
With that, he turned and strode out of the briefing room with a precise military manner only taught in the Imperial Academy.
"It seems like the fraggin' Imperial is the only good one in the whole lot," Ravin's voice came from behind Heli, almost scaring her to death.
When her heart slowed down a beat, she turned and replied, "Don't do that, Ravin! I didn't even realize you were still in the room!"
"My apologies, LT," the Quarren chortled mirthfully, "I do be thinkin' that I'm a mite unsettlin' to some. I blame the days that I been with the Infiltrators. Dirty work, that was, but rewardin' to the silent."
A smile tugged at the corners of Heli's mouth, "I almost can't imagine you silent, XO."
"I declare, everyone says that, ma'am. And me, the most closemouthed individual in the Alliance. Shall I be accompanyin' ya to our commanding officer, LT?"
"I'd like that very much, Ravin. I hope that we get some time to train before seeing combat."
The Quarren chuckled again, "Ma'am, I hope the war ends before this lot sees combat."
----------
It quickly became apparent that not only would the war not end before the squadron's first mission, the pilots wouldn't even be able to finish their drinks at the base's lounge. The time sensitive nature of the mission was evident, as Heli didn't even assemble her pilots in the briefing room: she made sure they arrived fully equipped in the base hangar.
Heli looked nervous, but she kept her emotions as contained as possible. "Alright, I guess this is it: we haven't had much time to get to know each other, but if we all make it through this, we'll have some time to get used to being a squadron. For right now, I'll be happy if we can act as a squadron in combat," she explained, trying to remain calm.
Berac replied loudly, before anyone else could say anything, "Alright, you're still working on the charisma thing. If you don't freeze up in combat, I'm fine with that. I just got one question."
Ravin growled lowly, "This better be good, Flight Officer Berac, or you'll be fish food when I'm through with ya."
Berac put up his claws in a posture of calming, "Calm down, sir, I just want to know something that's kind of important: What's our name?"
Heli smiled slightly and replied, "Thanks, Berac, I did forget about that: we're Trigger Squadron. Your numerical designations are on your X-Wing flight computers. Most of us have never flown X-Wings before, but if you know how to fly any snubfighter, you'll be fine."
"Yes ma'am!" came a chorus of replies from the pilots.
"Glad to hear you're all comfortable with that, because we don't exactly have time to train," Heli sympathized cheerily, "This is the op: we're jumping into the Chiara System, where a Fleet Detachment will join us. From there we're jumping into the midst of an Imperial convoy in the Pierton System. We'll be flying cover while a few Y-Wing squadrons disable transports. Then the Marines will take as many ships as they can. We'll be attacking as they begin to pass through a planetary gravity well: if they want to continue on their mission, they'll have to go all the way through. That gives us seven minutes to work with. If this works, the Alliance in this sector won't have to worry about supplies for a while."
"What's the retreat plan?" the Consorran named Lia asked, all four of her arms crossed in determination.
Berac choked back a laugh, "You would be the one to ask that, Lia."
"Cut the chatter, Flight Officer Berac," Heli ordered, "It's a legitimate question: we have three retreat vectors planned out, so that we won't have all our eggs in one basket. When the order to scramble is received, we stay together until we get out of the gravity well. Then we jump on different trajectories, and then meet back at the Fleet rendezvous point."
"Any way for us to put this off till tomorrow?" asked a short, middle aged human pilot.
"I'm pretty sure that would be treasonous, Flight Officer Yarik," Heli replied.
The entire squadron laughed, though Heli wasn't sure why. She'd been serious: not going on the mission would be betraying the Rebel Alliance! She shook off that worry, and decided to speak to the pilot later. They had a mission to go on.
"Well, if there's nothing else, off to your ships, and may the Force be with you," Heli ordered.
She wasn't quite sure why she said 'may the Force be with you.' She'd never really thought about it, one way or the other: the concept just hadn't made sense to her whenever someone tried to explain it. Whenever people told her that Force was like an energy field, binding and penetrating everyone, she always asked what generated it. Noone could answer her with any kind of concrete thought, so she hadn't given it a lot of thought. When it came down to it, Heli just wasn't imaginative enough to really wrap her mind around abstract concepts like the Force. But Heli knew that believing in this 'Force' made people feel better. Her old squadron commander had always prefaced launching with that phrase, 'May the Force be with you,' and the pilots always seemed a little bit more eager after he spoke it. Heli felt that it just seemed appropriate to follow in his tradition, even if she didn't understand the concept itself.
The pilots rushed to their snubfighters, jumping in as techs lowered R2 units into each of the fighters. All of the men and women of Trigger Squadron had flown before, in one capacity or another, and all were proficient enough to run through prelaunch checks without any trouble. Within minutes the entire squadron was ready for takeoff, to whatever might be waiting for them at the rendezvous point and beyond.
"All pilots, begin launch in pairs, by the book," Heli ordered as soon as she had received launch clearance.
Rising carefully on their repulsorlift drives, the X-Wings raised from the hangar deck, and then out into the air. Then, with a burst of sublight engines, each pair blew through the atmosphere and out into space. Their maneuvers were not precise, but they worked. Each pair stayed close, and noone lagged behind. By the time they reached space, they looked like a battle ready squadron. It would take an actual battle to determine whether this was the case or not.
A small flotilla, all that Ysala base could muster for this offensive, awaited them. A battered Corellian corvette, two other squadrons of fighters, and a Gallofree transport hung in space, primed for hyperspace. One of Heli's pilots whistled in amazement over the com, not so much because of the meager fleet, but because of the construction of the transport.
"What in the seven hells of Ghili is that sticking out of the transport, Lieutenant?" the voice asked. Heli checked: it was Trigger 7, Lon Borders, the Wroonian male she had noticed during the briefing.
"I don't know, Trigger 7, but this isn't the time for that. Everyone keep to important communications. All fighters, check in."
As each pilot rattled off their designator, another voice came on the com, a familiar one, "Nice of you to join us, Trigger Squadron. We were beginning to think we'd have to set up camp and toast marshmallows until you arrived."
"Sergeant Canson?" Heli asked hesitantly.
"That's an affirmative, Trigger Leader. I'll be the group com tech for this little outing, designation Stardust Leader. Stardust Two is the Corvette Open Pathway."
"Commander Tammith is not based on the corvette, Stardust Leader?" Heli asked, curiosity tugging at her. Heli had met Tammith only a short while before while he briefed her on the situation. He had originally been set to run with the Corvette, but had apparently changed his mind at the last minute.
"No ma'am; Commander Tammith and I are with this monstrosity of a gunship they've been cobbling together over the past few months. She's the Gallofree Gunship Knockout. Is your squadron ready to jump? We've kind of got a battle to get to."
"As ready as ever, Stardust Leader," Heli responded, not quite sure whether to take that as a joke, or an insult. She'd never been able to really tell.
"Alright, this is Stardust Leader to all ships. Ready for jump on my mark. Three, two, one, mark."
With that, the group winked into hyperspace, off into the great unknown of war and the galaxy.
------
The fleet at the rendezvous had been much more impressive than Ysala's contribution to the assault. Two Nebulon-B Frigates, one heavy troop transport and a Bulk Cruiser drifted in space, surrounded by their complements of fighters. In addition to these Fleet ships, two other bases in the system had donated small forces much like Ysala's. Each base had sent out a Corellian gunship, along with two squadrons of fighters. In all, the Alliance force had managed to amass fourteen squadrons for the attack, consisting of X-Wings, Y-Wings, Z-95s and one squadron of fighters Heli had never seen before. It was obvious even to Heli that the Alliance was very interested in capturing the supplies the Imperials were carrying in their convoy.
Heli activated her com. "This is Trigger Leader to Stardust Leader, requesting your estimate on when we'll make our jump into the operations area."
"Trigger Leader, wait on that: Commander Tammith is communicating with the Fleet at the moment. They're... uh, evening out... um... jurisdictional issues. At most we'll be waiting ten to fifteen minutes," Canson replied slowly.
"Thank you, Stardust Leader. Trigger out," she said, then switched to her squadron com system, "Trigger Leader to Trigger Squadron, we might be waiting here a few minutes. I'm lifting the ban on com chatter until the Fleet's ready. Just don't say anything you don't want everyone to hear."
Tandem, designated Trigger 4, chuckled at that, "That probably excludes our XO from partaking in any conversation."
"Trigger Four, you best belay that, for I would not want to have to beat ya once we get back to base," Ravin's voice threatened, though Heli couldn't tell if there was any real malice there.
"No offense intended, Trigger Two," Tandem soothed.
Lia's voice entered into the com channel, "I hate to interrupt, but I did have a question that might actually have bearing on our mission. What are those fighters out there? I've never sent them before, and their markings are even strange. They've got the standard Rebel Alliance designators, but I've never quite seen... a human woman in quite that position on a fighter in such a state of undress."
A new voice, Trigger Five, a dark skinned Lurrian male named Tir, "Marines, Trigger Eight. SpecForce Marines: they're a new idea of Madine's. He thinks that if his SpecForce is going to be involved in space based missions, they need coverage from people who understand SpecForce Marine tactics. Rumor has it that Mon Mothma approved, but the rest of the council voiced their disapproval by appropriating the oldest fighters we could find for them. I hear if they prove themselves, they'll get upgraded, but who knows when that'll happen?"
"Aye, I haven't seen fighters of that make for many a year," Ravin commented, "Except in old Republic holodramas: they be SF-19 Peacekeepers, a design that's thousands of years old, and that be a truth. They look to have been built in the last century, though. Donated by some planetary militia, I would suppose."
"What are those huge hard points on them, Trigger Two?" Heli asked, curious about these fighters.
"Mass driver pods, ma'am. They be using good old fashioned mass technology. Goes right through ray shielding, but doesn't do much against modern particle shielding. Fine for breaking up TIEs though, for they not be sufferin' the burden of shields."
"Hell, and I thought I was crazy back when I was pilotin' a TIE. At least they gave us lasers," Tandem commented.
"Just goes to show that there's as much backstabbing and politics in the Alliance as there is in the Empire," Berac commented, a twitter of disgust in his avian voice.
Lia replied angrily, "No organization can be completely pure, Trigger Ten. All that's certain is that they're better than the Empire, where they don't even give you a chance to prove yourself."
"Hey, if I didn't think that, I wouldn't be here, Trigger Eight. I just don't like to think that what we're replacing the Empire with might be just as bad as what the Empire replaced," Berac snarled.
"That's it, pilots, com silence from here on out," came Heli's voice, "If you can't behave yourselves, keep it quiet. Besides, we shouldn't have much longer to wait. The Fleet looks like it's changing vectors."
"Yes ma'am," came the chorus over her com. She wasn't sure, but she swore she could hear Ravin's low chortle.
Sergeant Canson's voice chimed in again, hurried now, "Stardust Group, this is Stardust Leader, prepare for a message from Commander Tammith."
Tammith's voice, the low growl of a leonic Rorian, echoed across the group's com system a second later, "We're jumping in one minute. All fighters go into attack mode as soon as you exit hyperspace. Take out the targets you've been assigned and listen to your wingmen. As outlined in the plan, Trigger Squadron will cover Modrol Squadron as they make their attack run on the transports. Phalanx Squadron will protect the Knockout while we pick targets of opportunity. I expect you all to make the Alliance proud. May the Force be with us."
Canson's voice came back on. "All units, check in. Jump on my mark."
Each squadron leader reported, followed by the corvette's Captain. A few more moments passed as Heli squirmed in her seat, nervous about her command's first foray into battle. Heli had never quite had the imagination to really be afraid of anything, but she could be concerned about her performance, and whether she was living up the expectations of everyone who depended on her. Finally, Canson's voice interrupted those worries with a single word.
"Mark."
With that, the Rebel fleet made their jump into battle. Heli just hoped she was adequate for the job facing her.
------
The firefight began moments after they emerged from hyperspace, less than a few kilometers away from the Imperial convoy. For once, Rebel intelligence had been right on in its report, and that meant that they would have the advantage of surprise, at least for a few moments. Only a Strike Cruiser and an Escort Carrier defended the convoy, a mix of small-scale container transports and bulk transports. Only a half squadron of TIEs was deployed, spread out among the transports in flight pairs. If everything went as planned, this would be the perfect assault.
Heli immediately began barking out orders, directing her fighters to follow Modrol Squadron's Y-Wings into the convoy. Their designated target was the group of transports nearest to them, while the Frigates took care of the enemy capital ships. The corvettes kept close to the Frigates to provide fire support while the Bulk Cruiser held off, outside of the planetary gravity well, as a backup. The troop transport assumed a position near the Bulk Cruiser, resting behind her protective screen. The Marine fighters stayed near her, waiting for the order to escort the assault transports into the convoy.
The escort carrier didn't even get a chance to raise its shields: the captain of the Alliance Frigate Threshold was an old hand at the game. He had immediately shifted all power into engines and gotten close enough to land a few precision shots into the carrier's shield projectors before the Imperials even knew what was happening. Another dozen shots reduced the carrier to a wreck, breaking apart in the center, spilling personnel and equipment across space.
"Two TIEs coming in fast, Trigger Leader, on our six," came Ravin's voice.
"I've got them; Scissors maneuver, whoever they follows the blade," Heli ordered, sending her fighter on a tight curve 'downward,' giving the TIEs a difficult, but tempting target, while Ravin pulled a hard split-s.
The TIEs kept after Heli closely, refusing to break up their flight pair; having a wingman was the only thing that would keep them alive very long in a situation where the odds were against them. Unfortunately, the 'scissors' accounted for this. As the TIE leader zeroed in on Heli's fighter, Ravin appeared behind the Imperial flight pair, his quad link lasers shredding into them. The leader of the pair managed to avoid the shots, but his wingman wasn't so lucky. That TIE exploded violently, sending up a curtain of debris that convinced Ravin to pull off, instead of going through the debris.
The leader stayed tight on Heli, continuing to fire, occasionally scoring shots on her rear shields. It was obvious to the casual observer that he knew he wasn't long for this galaxy, but he preferred to take a Rebel down with him. "This is Trigger Leader, requesting support!"
As if in answer, a curtain of laser bolts streamed into the TIE behind her: two of her squadrons X-Wings in a tight formation.
"Trigger Leader, if you died on us right away, we'd be the laughing stock of the fleet," came Lia's voice.
"Yeah, we can't lose our LT until at least the second mission," piped in the Wroonian, Lon Borders.
"Thanks, Trigger Seven, Trigger Eight. All squadron members, resume positions and continue to provide cover for the Y-Wings," Heli ordered, gratitude evident in her voice.
"Not much to cover, Trigger Lead," Berac commented, "The entire convoy is ionized, and the escorts are space dust."
Heli checked her sensors, and saw that Berac was correct: the Marine transports were already on their way, moving to dock with each Imperial convoy ship. The Marine fighters kept to them closely, flying with evident precision and care: it only took one look to see that they were veterans at this, even more battle hardened than the average Alliance pilot.
"Trigger Ten, I can see that, but that doesn't change our duty. Keep close to the Y-Wings."
"She be right, Trigger Squad. This smells of a trap, if a trap poorly executed. There is stupid in the Imperials if they sacrifice their cruisers for to trap our ships. They did not plan on us arriving on top of them, I think," Ravin's voice commented as he formed his fighter up on Heli's wing. He didn't apologize for leaving her side: Heli knew that he knew she wouldn't want him to. Sergeants, even sergeants who've been elevated to officership, always know what an officer needs or wants before the officer wants it. This is just a fact of military life.
"This is Stardust Leader: Alliance Force has suffered only one casualty so far. We heard your chatter, and we're thinking the same thing. But the Marines are going through with the capture anyway," Canson's voice explained, "We need those supplies."
The Marines did their work quickly: all of the convoy that they could reach was seized within less than thirty seconds of docking with a transport. The entire operation moved smoothly, though a sense of apprehension was hanging over the entirety of the battle group. Already one of the Nebulon-B Frigates and both gunships were moving out of the gravity well in preparation for whatever might be planning a rear assault. The Threshold remained behind to protect the assault transports.
Everything went smoothly for about one more minute. Then the com call came from the Bulk Cruiser Contessa.
"This is the Contessa, our sensors are picking up eight blips coming in on our escape vector. ETA forty seconds. Shields are up, escort fighters moving into defensive positions. Suggest that transports alter course to leave the same way the Imperials were planning to go."
"Roger that," came a rough voice, a voice that Heli easily recognized as that of a man who knew what it is to command. Her father had been much the same way. "This is Major Veradun, SpecForce Marines, commanding. All Marine forces get those transports out on the Imperial escape vector. We'll turn around once we're out-system. The naval battle is up to you, Captain Disel. We'll cover the transports."
"Major Veradun, are you sure you can protect them with just one squadron of outdated shpis?" came the Captain's voice.
"I think you're going to need every fighter we have just to protect our troopship and get out on the preplanned vector. We've handled with less."
"Understood, Major. All ships, move out of the gravity well and assume defensive posture...," he began, but was interrupted as the Imperial fleet dropped out of hyperspace.
Sure enough, the Imperials had pulled out all the stops: an Imperial Class Star Destroyer spearheaded the assault, supported by three Escort Carriers, two Strike Cruisers, a Carrack Cruiser, and most horrifying of all, an Interdictor. Heli knew her ship schematics by heart: the Star Destroyer alone would have been more than a match for the two Nebulon Bs and the Bulk Cruiser, but might have run into trouble with their fighter screen. With this support fleet, the Rebels were outgunned, outclassed and trapped between two gravity wells. Even once they cleared the planet, they would be unable to jump as long as the Interdictor remained online.
"This is Stardust Leader; we've got new orders. All fighters form up on Stardust Two and us: we're to make a run through the Imperial formation and hit the Interdictor. The Planetary Turbolaser cannon we've got on the Gallofree is the only thing that can kill it fast enough to save our fleet," Canson explained as the Open Pathway and Knockout angled out of the planet's gravity well and vectored straight towards the Imperial fleet.
"What about that Star Destroyer?" Lia asked, her voice betraying her nervousness.
Heli found herself replying, "Fleet Command'll worry about the Star Destroyer. We'll worry about the fighters and that Interdictor."
"Yes ma'am," came Lia's reply, trying to sound calm and failing.
"Trigger Squadron, form up on me, Delta Formation. Ready to break into pairs as soon as we hit the fray. Protect the Knockout at all costs. We'll only provide assistance with the Interdictor if they ask, or if we're sure there aren't any more fighters coming after them. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am!"
That was the last reasoned exchanged within Trigger Squadron for the rest of the battle. A moment later, and they were in the fray, confusion evident all around them. Heli wasn't sure which pilot she lost first, but it might have been Lia. She quickly lost track of losses, as they weren't important to her: survival for those were still alive was.
Trigger squadron suffered considerably less than Modrol Squadron, whose fighters were not built for large scale fighter combat. The Y-Wings were picked apart in less than two minutes, torn to pieces by wickedly fast TIE Interceptors. Phalanx Squadron, another X-Wing group, performed admirably, providing an impenetrable right flank screen for the Knockout. Trigger Squadron did their best, but a few bombers got through.
They didn't make it far enough to hit the Knockout, though; the Open Pathway's commander was competent, and his helmsman a professional with the wheel. Their turbolaser blasts eliminate the few bombers that made it through the fighter screen, and their shields took the torpedoes meant for the Knockout. She was a burning hulk by the time Stardust Group reached the Interdictor.
These were the facts of the battle, the conditions that threatened to overwhelm Heli Certense's untested squadron. Her responses, and her squadrons actions are what made the battle important.
"Heli, drop to vector 9-2-7," Ravin's voice almost ordered, "Two interceptors coming in fast."
Heli didn't need to answer; she knew to trust Ravin by this point in the battle. Her fighter pulled up hard, jinking and rolling all the way as the Interceptors changed their vector to match hers. The Imperials turn caused their profiles to become perfect targets. A series of blasts from Ravin's fighter turn them both into dust even as they targeted his lieutenant.
"You ok, LT?" he asked, targeting another TIE.
"Affirmative... Trigger Ten, Trigger Nine, come about to vector four-four-niner: bombers coming in fast."
"Roger that, LT," Berac's voice replied, "We've got 'em."
"Trigger Four, you still with me?" Heli asked, checking her targeting computer for the next opponent.
"Yeah, I'm with you, LT," Tandem answered, "Though my wingman's gone. Lost Lia and the Wroonian back there when those last two bomber and Interceptor squadrons tried to get through."
"I know. Form up with Ravin and me; you're no good without a wingman: we're gonna charge those Interceptors before they have a chance to mix it up with us."
"Roger that."
The three fighters broke towards a two flight formation of Interceptors moving in to provide a distraction so that the TIE bombers could make it through the fighter screen. "Once you achieve lock, fire off your torpedoes, then drop ten degrees and come up under them," Heli ordered, activating her own targeting computer.
The two other fighters in her formation opened up with a spread of torpedoes at almost the same moment as she did, then followed her orders precisely. She imitated their maneuver, only she angled ten degrees up. The Interceptors were then given the choice of coming head on with one of the two pairs, dealing with the torpedoes, or breaking and trying to outmaneuver the X-Wings. Two of the Imperial fighters choose wisely, breaking from their formation and circling hard while dropping flares. The other two angled to take on Tandem and Ravin, opening up at long range hoping to score some hits. The attack was a bad idea: one was hit by a proton torpedo that made it through it's flare screen, while the other was eliminated by Tandem's well placed fire.
The three X-Wings then passed each other in opposite directions, circling to come behind the TIE Interceptors even as the TIE Interceptors maneuvered to get behind them. The TIE pilots weren't quite sure which group to go after, so they broke formation, one continuing the chase after Ravin and Tandem, the other aiming for Heli. After breaking up the enemy formation, the Tandem hit the retrothrusters while Ravin kept moving. Unwilling or unable to stop in time, their Interceptor flew right into Tandem's stream of fire. After that, it was only the simple matter of a split S to mop up the fighter still attempting to take out Heli.
"Stardust Group, Fleet Group we are in range of the Interdictor, repeat within range. Opening fire."
A brilliant beam of light sprang from the Gallofree Gunship's starboard side as it's Planetary turbolaser cannon opened up. Heli could tell that though the Imperials had known the Knockout was coming, they had not expected the weapon embedded on its side to actually perform. This was evident in that they had not shifted any increased power into their forward shield systems, allowing the turbolaser to punch through and slam into one of the four gravity well generators.
"Power drained," Canson's voice sounded, even as panicked yelling and cursing could be heard in the background behind him, "Recharging for another shot. Give us twenty seconds."
The Imperials immediately recognized the threat was greater than they had supposed: what was left of the two of the remaining full squadrons of TIE Interceptors raced towards the Knockout, eager to eliminate it's pesky screen of determined defenders. It would be a simple matter to knock out its cannon after that: the standard quad lasers mounted on a Gallofree had been removed due to space constraints. The Interceptors, if left unmolested, could destroy the Knockout before she even had a chance to get off the second shot.
Heli immediately saw an opening to save the Knockout and keep the Interceptors busy long enough for the gunship to fire twice more, if needed.
"Phalanx Squadron, this is Trigger Leader; come to vector five-three-niner, go for two klicks, then come in on vector two-three-seven. Should be able to flank those TIEs. Leave your post. It's the only way to save the Knockout," she ordered.
"Affirmative, Trigger Leader," came the only reply from Phalanx Squadron. The squadron reeled, leaving two of it's number behind as point defense, burning on the vector Heli had given.
"Trigger Squadron, form up on me and come in on vector one-eight-four: we're going head to head with them. Keep them from splitting off to meet Phalanx."
Her remaining pilots operated as if they had always been a team, as if they had always worked together. Trigger Squadron moved quickly and fluidly, ending up between the Interceptors and their quarry: the interceptors would try to break through and get enough of their number in to damage the Knockout. That was all they needed: to damage the Knockout enough to keep her from firing again.
The next twenty seconds was a blur for Heli, though she shot down at least three of the opposing force. She really only noticed a few of the events that made up this, one of the most famous closein dogfights of the war. She saw Tandem's fighter exploded violently as an Interceptor slammed into him after his shields had been taken out. Normally a mid-flight collision wouldn't matter much with shields up, but in this case it triggered his proton torpedo magazine, consuming both fighters. She saw Berac's engine rip apart, and saw him go EV. She saw Ravin's starboard top S-Foil rip off, and saw him continue to fight with it. She saw Phalanx squadron swoop in, and then she saw it was over. The Knockout had fired again, fired twice. The Interdictor's gravity wells were gone, and the ship itself looked to be rapidly falling apart.
"This is Captain Disel: all ships break off and jump to hyperspace. Repeat, all ships escape immediately...," his voice pierced the com even as explosions and sirens wailed in the background.
"You heard the human!" Commander Tammith's voice roared over the com, "Everyone jump now; pick up anyone who's EV if you can, but get out!"
Every ship with an escape vector dropped into the welcoming arms of hyperspace. The battle was over, a victory of sorts.
------
"So, Chief Canson, when can I expect those replacements to arrive?" Heli asked, her hands on her hips.
"In another standard week, Captain Certense. I swear, for a woman who gets promoted as rapidly as you do, you sure aren't easy going."
"Was that fraggin' crack about the Captain, Canson?" Ravin asked, his mouth tentacles waving threateningly.
"Actually, yes, Lieutenant Ravin. We lost most of our force last week: I'm lucky if High Command sends us trained neks."
The three of them were seated at a table in the common area of Ysala Base, drinking heavily after a busy week of recovering from the battle at Pierton. Repairs, requisitions orders, debriefings, awards ceremonies, it had all kept them going constantly, until Commander Tammith had finally decided everyone needed some time off. Now that they were finally enjoying that time, all Heli could think about was their work.
It was Heli's way of dealing with the losses: she hadn't known the pilots very long, but she had already started to like them, started to want to protect them. She knew that it was unrealistic to believe she could keep them all alive, but the deaths hurt anyway. Heli knew that another truth hurt even more: that there would be more deaths, as long as the Rebellion continued. But she couldn't let that drive her nuts, or else she would never be able to continue as a squadron leader.
"Canson, I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Heli asked.
"Yes, Captain, but you're at least you're not running into the whole meekness thing anymore. How's Berac?"
"Alive, barely. I'm glad we were able to get him, though I'm guessing Rivan's ride back to base was a little crowded."
"It was at that, little Captain," Rivan admitted, "But it was worth it. Hate to lose a pilot to save my own neck."
"Speaking of that, did you get the tallies on what exactly happened afterwards, Canson?"
"As promised, Cap'n. But after this, you need to promise me that we won't discuss any kind of business for the rest of the night. I just want to get wasted and talk about shockball, or whatever it is normal people talk about."
"Alright, I promise, Canson: what's the final outcome?"
"We lost the Contessa and the Threshold's sister ship, Steadfast. The Threshold got to safety at Lison Base, restocked some fuel and then jumped back to Mon Cal, where it'll be overhauled. The troop transport managed to survive thanks to some pretty impressive point defense by the squadrons guarding it, and made it back to the Fleet. It got sent back to Mon Cal as well. One gunship got away, and parts of nine squadrons. Not bad, considering we were outnumbered."
"You didn't mention the one thing I really care about, Chief," Heli stared him down, her eyes narrowed.
Canson grinned broadly, "The transports got out. Despite the fact that Imperials sent half their fighter complement after them, they got out. Their escorts weren't so lucky; only Major Veradun and one other pilot survived. I hear Veraduns up for multiple awards, and they're moving him up to Lt. Colonel."
"Ok...," Heli started, but before she could continue, Canson interrupted her.
"Excuse me Captain, but you made a promise: nothing more on business. And both Rivan and me know exactly what your next question is going to be. Right, Rivan?"
"I'm afraid he is correct, Captain. Would either of you care to join me for a stroll on the beach? I was told there aren't any exceptionally predatory animals out there."
Heli grinned, "I'd be delighted, Rivan. You coming, Chief?"
"I think this looks remarkably like fraternization, but since we're the Rebellion, I don't think it really matters. Let's go."
The three soldiers got up from their table and walked out, towards the sea. They were a strange trio: A cheerful, easy going man, an angry, yet strangely caring Quarren and an unimaginative girl who wasn't quite as ordinary as she had thought she was. They walked towards times more peaceful than this. They walked towards a time when this would be but a dim memory. They walked, because that was the only way peace could reach them, in that one moment of peace between battles. Because finding those moments was sometimes the only pleasure a warrior could have.
The scene playing out in the room was not especially singular either, at least to the casual observer. A young lady, somewhere in her mid twenties, stood in front of the desk with her dark brown eyes caged forward, trying her best to concentrate on some invisible point on the stark metal walls. She wasn't especially beautiful, or even striking in any way. She was the kind of person that made up the mass portion of the population; someone noone ever noticed as they passed her on the streets. Not that she would have cared to be noticed, regardless of her physical condition. It wasn't in her character to want to draw attention to herself, which made her position in front of this desk even more uncomfortable.
Her long brown hair was worn in a sloppily constructed bun, while her too-thin body was concealed in the bright orange flightsuit of the Alliance Starfighter Command, the one feature of her personage that attracted any attention at all. Her eyes were set too far apart, or her nose was too far down, to bring any real attention to that area of her body. The uniform was her identifying mark, her only claim to distinction, though she would not have been the one to point out that fact. It was likely that a thought like that would never have even entered into any of her calculations of the world. Flight Officer Heli Certense was most likely one of the most singularly un-ambitious and unmemorable personages in the universe. This made it even more surprising to those who actually noticed her that trillions of other beings just like her existed all over the universe, going about their daily tasks and living their lives out without a single attempt to change their positions in the world.
The only difference was that none of those trillions had joined the Rebel Alliance, and none of those trillions were starfighter pilots. The difference was that Heli had wanted to change her position in the universe, and had done so. The fact that she had managed to assume an equally unnoticeable career as a pilot was either impressive or frightening to those who knew her. She did have friends, of course, the kind that most singularly unnoticeable people have. Those friends had wondered what could have brought her to decide that the Rebellion was her place in the world, but that question quickly gave way to more important ones, the kind that always obsess young pilots, or young people in general. They would have all wondered how someone as unnoticeable as Heli could ever end up standing in front of the desk of an Alliance Starfighter Wing Commander, for any reason whatever, if they had still been alive. However, their status as mortals had been changed rather abruptly about four days earlier, in some of the most intense fighting the wing had ever seen.
That was not why Heli was standing there, however, waiting for her wing commander to lift his head from her files and speak. She was there because, for once in her life, she had done something rather noticeable.
Heli's squadron had disintegrated around her minutes into the battle. They had been flying old Z-95 Headhunters, snubfighters that had become obsolete before Heli had even been born, escorting a flight of Y-Wing Assault Bombers against an Imperial ship construction facility. What had been meant to be a quick strike had turned into a fight for survival when multiple Imperial capital ships had jumped into system and disgorged large numbers of Twin Ion Engine(TIE) Fighters. In itself, this was not an especially significant thing. This particular ambush would not be of any note to either historians or military strategists: the Alliance often had to deal with largely unreliable data, and lost a great deal of its fighters to ambush. Their ability to do significant damage despite these losses was a point in their favor, but merely as a note in some general's memoirs. These battles were small pinpricks in the side of an immense giant, and only the names of those battles would ever make it into the history books. The only ones who would ever care about the battles themselves would be those who flew in them.
The battle had been of no great importance: the losses had been no greater or worse than had been felt all over the Alliance. However, it had left Heli's squadron severely undermanned, to the point where her superiors saw it necessary to disband it completely. Under normal circumstances, the survivors would be recycled to other squadrons, and their missions would go on until they met their doom in some unimportant sector in the middle of nowhere. However, these were not normal circumstances. This rather unremarkable looking pilot had done something rather remarkable. It wouldn't ever get her into the history books, and it certainly hadn't been a crushing blow to the Empire, but it had brought her notice, for the first time in her life.
Flight Officer Heli Certense had regrouped the few survivors of her squadron, and led them out of the battle as soon as a general retreat was ordered. This had certainly been an uncharacteristic maneuver for Heli, but not particularly remarkable. She had been following standard procedure: after a certain number of people in the chain of command were killed, command of the squadron had fallen to Heli. She had taken command because it was what was expected of her. Heli had always, always done what was expected of her. However, through some fluke of fate, an Imperial cruiser had shown up late for the battle. Maybe their nav coordinates had been off, maybe the captain had wanted to make sure all the systems were performing at top spec before they jumped. Whatever the reason, a Carrack class cruiser had dropped out of hyperspace directly in the path of Heli's squadrons escape vector.
Whether out of some instinct, or some locked away stash of ingenuity, Heli had acted completely out of character. She had immediately barked out orders, formed up what was left of the squadron and launched torpedoes, all in enough time to get off a barrage before the Carrack even brought up its shields. Seconds later, the once mighty capital ship had become a drifting, lifeless hulk. After that, Heli's squadron, along with several others, had a clear path out of the battlefield: her quick thinking had saved numerous lives.
Of course, none of this had occurred to Heli. As far as she knew, she was facing her commanding officer because her squadron had been decimated, and she was the only officer senior enough to chew out. It wasn't in her character to expect gratitude for her recent acts; the thought never even occurred to her.
The base wing commander, an older looking Duro Lt. Colonel named Takera, looked up at her and raised his brow inquisitively. The young human standing in front of him seemed to be as nervous as if she were in front of a full military tribunal. He never understood exactly how humans worked; some were brash and daring, others were meek and unassuming, yet they could all surprise you again and again. Of course, now he had to decide what to do with this particular human: the Alliance needed fighter squadron leaders, and almost any candidate would do. Takera just preferred sending out squadron commanders who could keep their people alive. He needed to know if this woman could do that.
Up until this point, he would have never even considered it; he had noticed her, of course, as any good wing commander knows all of his people, dead or alive, but Heli had never stood out. She was an ace, of course, as were all Alliance pilots who survived more than five missions without running away, but that was hardly an indicator into someones personality. The worst thing was that most of those who could tell him about her personality had died in the vacuum of space a few days ago.
"You know why you were called here, right, Heli?" The Duro colonel asked, giving her his best approximation of a human smile from his seat.
"Yes sir," she replied, staring straight into the wall behind him, "I disobeyed orders. I did not entirely disengage from the battle and discharged weaponry without authorization."
Takera chuckled genuinely, "You think this is a disciplinary hearing?"
Heli began to look confused, but kept her eyes caged, "What else could it be, sir? I haven't been called before you before, because I've always done my job right. I messed up this time."
The Duro shook his head and continued to smile, "Heli, you are entirely too uptight for the Rebellion. Was the Empire not hiring the week you tried to sign up?"
"Sir, I messed up, and I'm willing to turn in my wings, but I don't think you should mock me. I made a mistake, and I'm willing to pay the price."
"This isn't a dismissal review, Heli. You're being promoted. Now stop making me nervous and sit down; you're at ease, flight officer," the Duro motioned to the conform chair in front of his desk. Heli took the seat as ordered, but continued to move in a rigid patterns; Takera couldn't help but think she almost gave off the appearance of a droid that hadn't had an oil bath in years.
When she was finally seated, Heli ventured to speak, "What are you talking about, sir?"
"You're being promoted. You're also up for the Kalidor Crescent, but you know how long it takes them to process commendations."
"But... I disobeyed orders."
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're not the Empire. We encourage creative thought from out pilots. The only time we get angry is if you endanger lives needlessly. You didn't: you saved them."
Heli started to object, trying to wrap her mind around what had just been placed in her lap, "Sir, I'm just a pilot... I don't... I don't know how to be an officer!"
"Welcome to the club. I served with the Chandrilan Defense Fleet for twenty years before joining up with the Rebellion, and I still don't get it. But I do my best. So will you."
"Sir...," Heli was trying to think of some way out of this trap she'd fallen into, "I don't deserve a promotion. Most of my squadron was destroyed."
"Which you couldn't help. Look, Flight Officer Certense, this is an order. You're getting promoted whether you like it or not," the Duro stated; it had suddenly become key to the colonel that Heli take this promotion. Anyone who was this dead set against being a leader was the perfect candidate for the job. If she had jumped at the chance, he would have been more hesitant.
"That just doesn't make any sense to me, sir," Heli tried again, almost at the brink of tears; she just didn't know what to do in a situation like this. Her limited experiences just hadn't prepared her for the eventuality of doing something out of the ordinary, and taking the consequences, good or ill. She continued, "There are other, better pilots in my squadron."
"But they're all dead, if you'd forgotten. And they didn't lead half the wing out past a burning Carrack Cruiser that they had brought down through coordinated assault tactics."
"I was just trying to do my job, sir," Heli began, but was interrupted almost immediately.
The Colonels voice became cold, "Stop arguing with me, Flight officer. That is an order, understand?"
"Yessir," Heli almost grunted, looking more bewildered than ever.
The Colonel smiled again, and pressed forward, "Now, I've been looking over your file. You seem to be a pretty solid pilot; with seven fighter kills and ten missions under your belt, you've outlasted the average Alliance pilot. If you hadn't been... overlooked... before now, you would already be a squadron commander."
"I was fine with just flying sir," Heli asserted meekly.
"Yes, I suppose you were, Flight Officer Certense. But what you don't understand is that by not passing on your abilities, and by refusing promotion, you are hurting the Alliance."
"Sir, I would never..."
"I know, Heli; I'm sure you never thought of it this way. But you're going to have to start thinking like that. I'm giving you a squadron," the wing commander explained, taking a small box out of his desk.
Heli's eyes went wide, ""Yes sir. It's just that I don't have any experience in something like this."
"Neither do most new squadron commanders. You'll learn from your pilots, and they'll learn from you. Here, these are your new ranks," he offered Heli the box.
She opened it, and just stared at the rank insignia seated within. Nothing like this had ever happened to Heli in her entire life. She had never taken management positions at the odd jobs she had worked as a teenager, she had never tried to excel in anything. Now, here she was, excellence being forced upon her. Heli had never sought out anything like this, but she had always tried her best in whatever job she was given: it just seemed right to do the same thing here.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, "Will that be all?"
"That will be all, Lieutenant Certense. Good luck, and may the Force be with you."
Heli saluted, still uncomfortable with the new title, and performed a sharp about face. Though she would have never realized it, the girl had taken her first step into a much larger universe.
--------
Heli had been shipped out the following day on a Rebel transport carrying supplies to her destination, Ysala Base, where her new squadron was waiting for her. She'd been told that most of the pilots were new to the Rebellion, but weren't new to flying: former smugglers, former system defense personnel and even an ex-TIE pilot. They were all as different as could be, and for the first time in her life, Heli was worried. Her entire life, she had always done what she knew she had the capabilities and skills for. She had never once operated out of her league, never once taken a long shot. Therefore, she had never had to really worry about whether she could do a job: she always knew that she could before taking it.
Because of that one moment of impulsiveness during the last battle, she had been thrust into the position of having to do something she wasn't sure she could do for the first time in her life. Her entire life she had believed what others told her: that she was ordinary, unimaginative: she couldn't argue with their logic. She had never understood the lure of space travel, had never understood why other people her age enjoyed holodramas: she could never really imagine anything beyond what was in front of her. That was why her decision to join the Rebellion had been so strange. That first impulsive decision had lead to a series of events that lead to this new, impulsive decision, which had then lead to this whole new world of responsibility.
Since then, she had been sitting in the troop transport hold of the Wynssa Starflare, probably the only transport in the fleet named after an actress, an actress in Imperial holodramas no less. One of the other soldiers in the hold had told her that the captain who named it had been going for some kind of irony. Heli hadn't quite gotten it.
"What are you up to, Lieutenant? You've been staring at those datapads this whole damn trip," a voice came from behind her.
Heli looked up and saw a handsome young man with staff sergeant marks on his uniform smiling down at her. He had dark black, slightly slanted eyes and darkish skin, with military cut black hair under a Rebel Transport Corps cap. She wasn't quite sure why he had decided to talk to her: small talk had always been a chore for her. It wasn't that she lacked emotion: it was just that it seemed like everyone else was more interesting than her. Heli never felt that she had anything really valuable to add to a conversation, even if responses kept coming to her.
Finally, she decided he was just being polite and replied matter of factly, "I'm looking at the reports for my new command."
"Must be exciting. Hell, I remember when I got assigned my first transport once I got promoted to Crew Chief; granted, I wasn't in command of the whole ship, but I couldn't wait to get a chance at a position with some actual responsibility."
Heli wasn't certain why the Sergeant was still talking to her. Normally people would go away after the first polite response. "It's a job. I was assigned, so I'll fulfill my duties."
The sergeant raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly, "That's the first time I've heard that response from a fighter pilot, and I've transported quite a few of them. What's your name, LT?"
"Heli... Heli Certense... sergeant, why are you asking me all these questions?" she asked, straightforward as always.
The staff sergeant look embarrassed and chuckled nervously, "Well, I'll be operating out of Ysala Base with you; I figure I should know the person who's going to be escorting my transport around, keeping my crew alive. You don't think I'm hitting on you, do you?"
Heli was too surprised almost to respond, but exclaimed, "Of course not! I just want to get back to my work, Sergeant."
The sergeant smiled slightly, "You need to lighten up, LT. We might be in serious fight for our lives, but we can't just focus on the work. If you just shut yourself up in that datapad, without getting to know anyone, you'll have some problems commanding: I know, I've seen officers do it before."
Heli had never really had occasion to be annoyed before, because she'd never interacted with anyone who contradicted her entire thought process before: but she was beginning to learn what being annoyed was like.
"I'm over my head, ok, Sergeant? Is that what you want to hear? I'm just a fighter pilot, and I'm not very good at talking to people. All the friends I had in the galaxy died a couple of days ago, and now I'm being saddled in a position where I won't even be able to make friends!" Heli yelled at the sergeant.
"I'm sorry," the sergeant replied, looking at her in a different way, "Look, I can understand how strange leadership can be, but it doesn't isolate you from people."
"But I can't be friends with the other pilots, because they'll look at me as a leader! And I'm exactly the same as them! And I don't even know why I'm telling you this!" she huffed in a frustrated manner.
The sergeant shrugged, "Look, I'll leave you alone, but you can't learn about people from a datapad or a class. If you ever want some help with those interpersonal skills you haven't exactly been developing, drop by the enlisted lounge. I'll introduce you to the guys. This might be hard, and yeah, you might not be able to make friends with your pilots, but you can't be afraid of new experiences."
The sergeant turned to go and headed back towards the bridge, but was stopped by a call from Heli. He turned and saw her standing, a confused expression on her face. "Wait, Sergeant, what's your name?"
"Ellis Canson, LT. Remember that invitation," he replied, then walked out of the troop transport hold.
Heli couldn't for the life of her understand why she had asked him her name. She shouldn't have even cared: she just had to do her job. But she was starting to realize that that might not be enough: things had changed for her, and she had to change, even if she didn't know how. Maybe the only way to change would be to ask other people for help. It might be the only way for her to become the leader the Alliance wanted her to be.
-------
Heli had been met in the Ysala base hangar by her squadron exec, a tough looking Quarren with a limp. An exchange with the Deck Sergeant in charge of the hangar revealed that the Quarren, if nothing else, had a wide variety of vulgarities at his command. Heli didn't even know what half of them meant in basic, except that it wasn't something complimentary. Heli wasn't quite sure what to make of him: she'd never had someone like this under her command before. In fact, she hadn't had anyone under her command before.
Regardless of his attitude with the sergeant, he did seem to respect rank; his tone was more subdued when he spoke to Heli, "Well, ma'am, we have a busy schedule ahead of us: our squadron is the most collection of vlarkots... pardon my language... most useless collection of space trash this side of Wild Space. And this side of space is pretty damn big. Will you be introducin' y'self to them, ma'am?"
Heli pondered for a second as they made their way to the base turbolifts. "I... guess I'm supposed to talk to them... what do you think?"
"If I was in command, I would space the lot of 'em," the Quarren chortled, then continued, "But since I'm not, I don't rightly know, ma'am. I was a tech sergeant until a week ago: they found out I had space combat experience, so they promoted me and sent me here. Supposed to be a grand battle in this sector, ma'am."
"Well... then I suppose I better speak with them right away, if we might be going into combat soon... by the way, what was your name, Flight Officer?" Heli asked, quietly, as they stepped into the turbolift.
The Quarren punched in the floor number of the squadron briefing room, and the turbolift zoomed off, before he replied, "It's Ravin, Lieutenant Certense, and it be a pleasure to meet ya. I heard about that maneuver during the Bisant Raid: the scum you'll be commanding aren't easily impressed, but I must say that did it."
Heli was confused; she wasn't sure how the news of her last battle had traveled as quickly as it did. She didn't quite know how to take this: she had never been exposed to any kind of fame before. Her fellow Alliance soldiers, for that matter, had barely even noticed Heli. All this attention was unnerving at best, and scary at worst.
"Impressed... them?" she managed to get out.
"Yes ma'am, but that can only count for so much. Ya can't be so soft spoken, or else the bloodthirsty cutthroats'll take advantage of ya," Ravin advised, grinning from tentacle to tentacle.
Heli smiled slightly, "You don't seem to have a very high opinion of the squadron."
"Ma'am, I don't have what you would call a high opinion of anyone, including me own birth mother. But if you lead us like you lead that squadron out of hells fires... then I think I could survive with a wee lass like you in command."
Heli didn't have time to ponder what that meant, as the turbolift had come to a stop near the briefing room. "Don't you need to contact the squadron and get them assembled, Ravin?" Heli asked.
"No, ma'am. I took the liberty of assembling them there when you arrived. Even if you didn't speak to them, I could use the time to instruct them in not being complete wastes of their mothers wombs, or whatever else it was that they came out of."
Heli coughed slightly in discomfort. The Quarren's crass language would take some getting used to, but she knew she couldn't order him to stop. It was hard enough for him to tone his language down as much as he did when he spoke to a superior officer. His language when he had speaking to the Deck Sergeant had not been so unrestrained, and Heli had a feeling that she would be suppressing a very good officer if she tried to curb this idiosyncrasy.
Flight Officer Ravin preceded her into the squadron briefing room, his sergeant's voice bellowing the customary call to attention. As Heli entered, she noticed that some of the inhabitants were slower in their rise to attention than others, but at least none of the pilots ignored the order entirely. It was better than nothing, and from the way Ravin had been speaking, Heli had expected them all to just ignore her.
For a second, Heli wondered why the pilots were still standing at attention when she reached the front of the room, and then remembered who she was. She managed to get out a modulated, "At ease," keeping the nervousness out of her voice as much as she could.
"It's good to see you all, and I know we were all just shipped here from various bases across the Alliance, but I hope we're all able to work together well," Heli said, trying to think of what she was supposed to say.
A hand shot up in the back of the room. "Yes?" Heli asked
The pilot stood up, giving Heli a better view of her: she was a Consorran, a fur covered, feline species with long, capable arms. This particular Consorran had a coat of auburn with a light patch of white near her royal purple eyes. She spoke in a kind of languished purr. "Perhaps you might tell us your name, ma'am. That's usually how these things start off," There was insolence there, but a carefully constructed insolence that had been developed over the years. It would take a long time to remove a tone like that, if the speaker were even inclined to do so.
"Ah, right," Heli smiled slightly in embarrassment, "I'm Lieutenant Heli Certense. I'm from Moritania, a small colony planet on the edge of the Outer Rim, where I was a transport driver. I just got promoted, so I'm kind of new to all this... I guess the only thing I have to say is that if everyone works together, we'll stay alive."
"Not exactly the beacon of charisma, are ya... ma'am?" an intelligent looking avian Killsyn in a smuggler's trouser and vest drawled. His plumage was bright shades of yellow and purple, the better to attract mates: a blaster scar across his face hinted that mates weren't the only thing those colors attracted.
"Stow that, Berac," the insolent Consorran spat before Ravin could say anything, "We're all new to this whole teamwork thing. Scuttlebutt says she did well for her squadron in the past, so we might a well do well for her now."
"That's real interesting, coming from you, Lia. Weren't you the one who dropped and ran when the Imperials raided the smugglers cove on Grande Via?" Berac, the Killsyn, replied.
"That defense wasn't teamwork, it was desperation. I'll fight with people I can trust," Lia asserted lazily, stretching back in her chair.
"I think that what Berac is trying to say is that we can't really trust each other yet. We're a bunch of loners who just happened to join an operation that isn't the best job for a loner," a human with light brown, close cropped hair and light green eyes explained calmy. He was the most military looking of the bunch, and looked to be older than most.
"We'll become more than that," A light, hesitant voice from the front of the room piped into the conversation, reminding everyone that their commanding officer was still present. Ravin smiled slightly from his corner in the back of the room. He had seen Heli trying to build up to this, and had decided against intervening the argument because of it. His Lieutenant needed this. She needed to become a leader, and the only way that would happen is if she began speaking out.
"What?" came the voice of a dark blue skinned Wroonian male clothed in an Alliance jumpsuit. Most of the room had barely heard Heli's squeak.
"I said, we'll become more than just loners. We're all fighter pilots, and we all joined the Rebel Alliance for a reason. Maybe we don't know what the reason is yet, but the reason doesn't matter. We're here now, and that's what's important. Ravin says we'll be sent out soon, maybe in a matter of hours, or maybe in a day. I don't know. I do know that people will die, and ships will be destroyed. What will keep us alive is if we act as a team, not as individuals. We have to survive," Heli demanded, her voice moving from that squeak to a steady, low command voice. Everyone in the room listened intently, refusing to miss a single word.
Ravin broke the silence with his booming sergeant's voice, "Alright, you heard her. Everyone break for two hours. Most of us just arrived today, and the LT's right: you need to know each other in order to work as a team. If I catch any tc'lakin loners sulking off to their rooms, they'll be shining the galley for the next month! Is that understood?"
A somewhat more enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!" emanated from the room.
Heli smiled at that; she liked Ravin, and his somewhat crass, forward way of doing things. In contrasted well with her more subdued, unassuming personality. She spoke up again, "Thanks, Flight Officer Ravin. I'll see you all in two hours, after I find out what our orders are. If we're not getting sent out any time soon, I'll have you hit the simulators. You're all dismissed."
Ravin boomed out another call to attention, and then dismissed the room officially. As the pilots streamed out of the briefing room, the military looking man stopped to talk to Heli.
"Lieutenant Certense, might I have a word with you?" he asked.
"Yeah, that'd be fine... Flight Officer Tandem," Heli replied, uncertain again what to do in this situation.
"I'm guessing you've read our bios by now. So you know I'm ex-Imperial, a former pilot with the TIE corps. I know we've got a lot of ex-Imperial soldiers in our ranks, but it doesn't ever seem like we're totally welcome. Some people don't even trust General Madine."
Heli wasn't sure what to say. She quickly decided to just make her usual non-committal response and nod understandingly.
"So I just want to assure you that I'll do my job, Lieutenant. And you seem like the kind of leader who understands that," Tandem spoke clearly, his eyes piercing into her. Heli resisted the urge to look away.
"Thank you, Tandem; that means a lot to me. I suppose the best way for you to remedy that distrust would be if you went to meet with the other pilots. I'm sure they'll accept you after we've gone through a couple missions."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, "I guess time is really the only thing I can rely on. I'll see you in two hours, then."
Heli smiled warmly, "In two hours, then, Flight Officer Tandem."
With that, he turned and strode out of the briefing room with a precise military manner only taught in the Imperial Academy.
"It seems like the fraggin' Imperial is the only good one in the whole lot," Ravin's voice came from behind Heli, almost scaring her to death.
When her heart slowed down a beat, she turned and replied, "Don't do that, Ravin! I didn't even realize you were still in the room!"
"My apologies, LT," the Quarren chortled mirthfully, "I do be thinkin' that I'm a mite unsettlin' to some. I blame the days that I been with the Infiltrators. Dirty work, that was, but rewardin' to the silent."
A smile tugged at the corners of Heli's mouth, "I almost can't imagine you silent, XO."
"I declare, everyone says that, ma'am. And me, the most closemouthed individual in the Alliance. Shall I be accompanyin' ya to our commanding officer, LT?"
"I'd like that very much, Ravin. I hope that we get some time to train before seeing combat."
The Quarren chuckled again, "Ma'am, I hope the war ends before this lot sees combat."
----------
It quickly became apparent that not only would the war not end before the squadron's first mission, the pilots wouldn't even be able to finish their drinks at the base's lounge. The time sensitive nature of the mission was evident, as Heli didn't even assemble her pilots in the briefing room: she made sure they arrived fully equipped in the base hangar.
Heli looked nervous, but she kept her emotions as contained as possible. "Alright, I guess this is it: we haven't had much time to get to know each other, but if we all make it through this, we'll have some time to get used to being a squadron. For right now, I'll be happy if we can act as a squadron in combat," she explained, trying to remain calm.
Berac replied loudly, before anyone else could say anything, "Alright, you're still working on the charisma thing. If you don't freeze up in combat, I'm fine with that. I just got one question."
Ravin growled lowly, "This better be good, Flight Officer Berac, or you'll be fish food when I'm through with ya."
Berac put up his claws in a posture of calming, "Calm down, sir, I just want to know something that's kind of important: What's our name?"
Heli smiled slightly and replied, "Thanks, Berac, I did forget about that: we're Trigger Squadron. Your numerical designations are on your X-Wing flight computers. Most of us have never flown X-Wings before, but if you know how to fly any snubfighter, you'll be fine."
"Yes ma'am!" came a chorus of replies from the pilots.
"Glad to hear you're all comfortable with that, because we don't exactly have time to train," Heli sympathized cheerily, "This is the op: we're jumping into the Chiara System, where a Fleet Detachment will join us. From there we're jumping into the midst of an Imperial convoy in the Pierton System. We'll be flying cover while a few Y-Wing squadrons disable transports. Then the Marines will take as many ships as they can. We'll be attacking as they begin to pass through a planetary gravity well: if they want to continue on their mission, they'll have to go all the way through. That gives us seven minutes to work with. If this works, the Alliance in this sector won't have to worry about supplies for a while."
"What's the retreat plan?" the Consorran named Lia asked, all four of her arms crossed in determination.
Berac choked back a laugh, "You would be the one to ask that, Lia."
"Cut the chatter, Flight Officer Berac," Heli ordered, "It's a legitimate question: we have three retreat vectors planned out, so that we won't have all our eggs in one basket. When the order to scramble is received, we stay together until we get out of the gravity well. Then we jump on different trajectories, and then meet back at the Fleet rendezvous point."
"Any way for us to put this off till tomorrow?" asked a short, middle aged human pilot.
"I'm pretty sure that would be treasonous, Flight Officer Yarik," Heli replied.
The entire squadron laughed, though Heli wasn't sure why. She'd been serious: not going on the mission would be betraying the Rebel Alliance! She shook off that worry, and decided to speak to the pilot later. They had a mission to go on.
"Well, if there's nothing else, off to your ships, and may the Force be with you," Heli ordered.
She wasn't quite sure why she said 'may the Force be with you.' She'd never really thought about it, one way or the other: the concept just hadn't made sense to her whenever someone tried to explain it. Whenever people told her that Force was like an energy field, binding and penetrating everyone, she always asked what generated it. Noone could answer her with any kind of concrete thought, so she hadn't given it a lot of thought. When it came down to it, Heli just wasn't imaginative enough to really wrap her mind around abstract concepts like the Force. But Heli knew that believing in this 'Force' made people feel better. Her old squadron commander had always prefaced launching with that phrase, 'May the Force be with you,' and the pilots always seemed a little bit more eager after he spoke it. Heli felt that it just seemed appropriate to follow in his tradition, even if she didn't understand the concept itself.
The pilots rushed to their snubfighters, jumping in as techs lowered R2 units into each of the fighters. All of the men and women of Trigger Squadron had flown before, in one capacity or another, and all were proficient enough to run through prelaunch checks without any trouble. Within minutes the entire squadron was ready for takeoff, to whatever might be waiting for them at the rendezvous point and beyond.
"All pilots, begin launch in pairs, by the book," Heli ordered as soon as she had received launch clearance.
Rising carefully on their repulsorlift drives, the X-Wings raised from the hangar deck, and then out into the air. Then, with a burst of sublight engines, each pair blew through the atmosphere and out into space. Their maneuvers were not precise, but they worked. Each pair stayed close, and noone lagged behind. By the time they reached space, they looked like a battle ready squadron. It would take an actual battle to determine whether this was the case or not.
A small flotilla, all that Ysala base could muster for this offensive, awaited them. A battered Corellian corvette, two other squadrons of fighters, and a Gallofree transport hung in space, primed for hyperspace. One of Heli's pilots whistled in amazement over the com, not so much because of the meager fleet, but because of the construction of the transport.
"What in the seven hells of Ghili is that sticking out of the transport, Lieutenant?" the voice asked. Heli checked: it was Trigger 7, Lon Borders, the Wroonian male she had noticed during the briefing.
"I don't know, Trigger 7, but this isn't the time for that. Everyone keep to important communications. All fighters, check in."
As each pilot rattled off their designator, another voice came on the com, a familiar one, "Nice of you to join us, Trigger Squadron. We were beginning to think we'd have to set up camp and toast marshmallows until you arrived."
"Sergeant Canson?" Heli asked hesitantly.
"That's an affirmative, Trigger Leader. I'll be the group com tech for this little outing, designation Stardust Leader. Stardust Two is the Corvette Open Pathway."
"Commander Tammith is not based on the corvette, Stardust Leader?" Heli asked, curiosity tugging at her. Heli had met Tammith only a short while before while he briefed her on the situation. He had originally been set to run with the Corvette, but had apparently changed his mind at the last minute.
"No ma'am; Commander Tammith and I are with this monstrosity of a gunship they've been cobbling together over the past few months. She's the Gallofree Gunship Knockout. Is your squadron ready to jump? We've kind of got a battle to get to."
"As ready as ever, Stardust Leader," Heli responded, not quite sure whether to take that as a joke, or an insult. She'd never been able to really tell.
"Alright, this is Stardust Leader to all ships. Ready for jump on my mark. Three, two, one, mark."
With that, the group winked into hyperspace, off into the great unknown of war and the galaxy.
------
The fleet at the rendezvous had been much more impressive than Ysala's contribution to the assault. Two Nebulon-B Frigates, one heavy troop transport and a Bulk Cruiser drifted in space, surrounded by their complements of fighters. In addition to these Fleet ships, two other bases in the system had donated small forces much like Ysala's. Each base had sent out a Corellian gunship, along with two squadrons of fighters. In all, the Alliance force had managed to amass fourteen squadrons for the attack, consisting of X-Wings, Y-Wings, Z-95s and one squadron of fighters Heli had never seen before. It was obvious even to Heli that the Alliance was very interested in capturing the supplies the Imperials were carrying in their convoy.
Heli activated her com. "This is Trigger Leader to Stardust Leader, requesting your estimate on when we'll make our jump into the operations area."
"Trigger Leader, wait on that: Commander Tammith is communicating with the Fleet at the moment. They're... uh, evening out... um... jurisdictional issues. At most we'll be waiting ten to fifteen minutes," Canson replied slowly.
"Thank you, Stardust Leader. Trigger out," she said, then switched to her squadron com system, "Trigger Leader to Trigger Squadron, we might be waiting here a few minutes. I'm lifting the ban on com chatter until the Fleet's ready. Just don't say anything you don't want everyone to hear."
Tandem, designated Trigger 4, chuckled at that, "That probably excludes our XO from partaking in any conversation."
"Trigger Four, you best belay that, for I would not want to have to beat ya once we get back to base," Ravin's voice threatened, though Heli couldn't tell if there was any real malice there.
"No offense intended, Trigger Two," Tandem soothed.
Lia's voice entered into the com channel, "I hate to interrupt, but I did have a question that might actually have bearing on our mission. What are those fighters out there? I've never sent them before, and their markings are even strange. They've got the standard Rebel Alliance designators, but I've never quite seen... a human woman in quite that position on a fighter in such a state of undress."
A new voice, Trigger Five, a dark skinned Lurrian male named Tir, "Marines, Trigger Eight. SpecForce Marines: they're a new idea of Madine's. He thinks that if his SpecForce is going to be involved in space based missions, they need coverage from people who understand SpecForce Marine tactics. Rumor has it that Mon Mothma approved, but the rest of the council voiced their disapproval by appropriating the oldest fighters we could find for them. I hear if they prove themselves, they'll get upgraded, but who knows when that'll happen?"
"Aye, I haven't seen fighters of that make for many a year," Ravin commented, "Except in old Republic holodramas: they be SF-19 Peacekeepers, a design that's thousands of years old, and that be a truth. They look to have been built in the last century, though. Donated by some planetary militia, I would suppose."
"What are those huge hard points on them, Trigger Two?" Heli asked, curious about these fighters.
"Mass driver pods, ma'am. They be using good old fashioned mass technology. Goes right through ray shielding, but doesn't do much against modern particle shielding. Fine for breaking up TIEs though, for they not be sufferin' the burden of shields."
"Hell, and I thought I was crazy back when I was pilotin' a TIE. At least they gave us lasers," Tandem commented.
"Just goes to show that there's as much backstabbing and politics in the Alliance as there is in the Empire," Berac commented, a twitter of disgust in his avian voice.
Lia replied angrily, "No organization can be completely pure, Trigger Ten. All that's certain is that they're better than the Empire, where they don't even give you a chance to prove yourself."
"Hey, if I didn't think that, I wouldn't be here, Trigger Eight. I just don't like to think that what we're replacing the Empire with might be just as bad as what the Empire replaced," Berac snarled.
"That's it, pilots, com silence from here on out," came Heli's voice, "If you can't behave yourselves, keep it quiet. Besides, we shouldn't have much longer to wait. The Fleet looks like it's changing vectors."
"Yes ma'am," came the chorus over her com. She wasn't sure, but she swore she could hear Ravin's low chortle.
Sergeant Canson's voice chimed in again, hurried now, "Stardust Group, this is Stardust Leader, prepare for a message from Commander Tammith."
Tammith's voice, the low growl of a leonic Rorian, echoed across the group's com system a second later, "We're jumping in one minute. All fighters go into attack mode as soon as you exit hyperspace. Take out the targets you've been assigned and listen to your wingmen. As outlined in the plan, Trigger Squadron will cover Modrol Squadron as they make their attack run on the transports. Phalanx Squadron will protect the Knockout while we pick targets of opportunity. I expect you all to make the Alliance proud. May the Force be with us."
Canson's voice came back on. "All units, check in. Jump on my mark."
Each squadron leader reported, followed by the corvette's Captain. A few more moments passed as Heli squirmed in her seat, nervous about her command's first foray into battle. Heli had never quite had the imagination to really be afraid of anything, but she could be concerned about her performance, and whether she was living up the expectations of everyone who depended on her. Finally, Canson's voice interrupted those worries with a single word.
"Mark."
With that, the Rebel fleet made their jump into battle. Heli just hoped she was adequate for the job facing her.
------
The firefight began moments after they emerged from hyperspace, less than a few kilometers away from the Imperial convoy. For once, Rebel intelligence had been right on in its report, and that meant that they would have the advantage of surprise, at least for a few moments. Only a Strike Cruiser and an Escort Carrier defended the convoy, a mix of small-scale container transports and bulk transports. Only a half squadron of TIEs was deployed, spread out among the transports in flight pairs. If everything went as planned, this would be the perfect assault.
Heli immediately began barking out orders, directing her fighters to follow Modrol Squadron's Y-Wings into the convoy. Their designated target was the group of transports nearest to them, while the Frigates took care of the enemy capital ships. The corvettes kept close to the Frigates to provide fire support while the Bulk Cruiser held off, outside of the planetary gravity well, as a backup. The troop transport assumed a position near the Bulk Cruiser, resting behind her protective screen. The Marine fighters stayed near her, waiting for the order to escort the assault transports into the convoy.
The escort carrier didn't even get a chance to raise its shields: the captain of the Alliance Frigate Threshold was an old hand at the game. He had immediately shifted all power into engines and gotten close enough to land a few precision shots into the carrier's shield projectors before the Imperials even knew what was happening. Another dozen shots reduced the carrier to a wreck, breaking apart in the center, spilling personnel and equipment across space.
"Two TIEs coming in fast, Trigger Leader, on our six," came Ravin's voice.
"I've got them; Scissors maneuver, whoever they follows the blade," Heli ordered, sending her fighter on a tight curve 'downward,' giving the TIEs a difficult, but tempting target, while Ravin pulled a hard split-s.
The TIEs kept after Heli closely, refusing to break up their flight pair; having a wingman was the only thing that would keep them alive very long in a situation where the odds were against them. Unfortunately, the 'scissors' accounted for this. As the TIE leader zeroed in on Heli's fighter, Ravin appeared behind the Imperial flight pair, his quad link lasers shredding into them. The leader of the pair managed to avoid the shots, but his wingman wasn't so lucky. That TIE exploded violently, sending up a curtain of debris that convinced Ravin to pull off, instead of going through the debris.
The leader stayed tight on Heli, continuing to fire, occasionally scoring shots on her rear shields. It was obvious to the casual observer that he knew he wasn't long for this galaxy, but he preferred to take a Rebel down with him. "This is Trigger Leader, requesting support!"
As if in answer, a curtain of laser bolts streamed into the TIE behind her: two of her squadrons X-Wings in a tight formation.
"Trigger Leader, if you died on us right away, we'd be the laughing stock of the fleet," came Lia's voice.
"Yeah, we can't lose our LT until at least the second mission," piped in the Wroonian, Lon Borders.
"Thanks, Trigger Seven, Trigger Eight. All squadron members, resume positions and continue to provide cover for the Y-Wings," Heli ordered, gratitude evident in her voice.
"Not much to cover, Trigger Lead," Berac commented, "The entire convoy is ionized, and the escorts are space dust."
Heli checked her sensors, and saw that Berac was correct: the Marine transports were already on their way, moving to dock with each Imperial convoy ship. The Marine fighters kept to them closely, flying with evident precision and care: it only took one look to see that they were veterans at this, even more battle hardened than the average Alliance pilot.
"Trigger Ten, I can see that, but that doesn't change our duty. Keep close to the Y-Wings."
"She be right, Trigger Squad. This smells of a trap, if a trap poorly executed. There is stupid in the Imperials if they sacrifice their cruisers for to trap our ships. They did not plan on us arriving on top of them, I think," Ravin's voice commented as he formed his fighter up on Heli's wing. He didn't apologize for leaving her side: Heli knew that he knew she wouldn't want him to. Sergeants, even sergeants who've been elevated to officership, always know what an officer needs or wants before the officer wants it. This is just a fact of military life.
"This is Stardust Leader: Alliance Force has suffered only one casualty so far. We heard your chatter, and we're thinking the same thing. But the Marines are going through with the capture anyway," Canson's voice explained, "We need those supplies."
The Marines did their work quickly: all of the convoy that they could reach was seized within less than thirty seconds of docking with a transport. The entire operation moved smoothly, though a sense of apprehension was hanging over the entirety of the battle group. Already one of the Nebulon-B Frigates and both gunships were moving out of the gravity well in preparation for whatever might be planning a rear assault. The Threshold remained behind to protect the assault transports.
Everything went smoothly for about one more minute. Then the com call came from the Bulk Cruiser Contessa.
"This is the Contessa, our sensors are picking up eight blips coming in on our escape vector. ETA forty seconds. Shields are up, escort fighters moving into defensive positions. Suggest that transports alter course to leave the same way the Imperials were planning to go."
"Roger that," came a rough voice, a voice that Heli easily recognized as that of a man who knew what it is to command. Her father had been much the same way. "This is Major Veradun, SpecForce Marines, commanding. All Marine forces get those transports out on the Imperial escape vector. We'll turn around once we're out-system. The naval battle is up to you, Captain Disel. We'll cover the transports."
"Major Veradun, are you sure you can protect them with just one squadron of outdated shpis?" came the Captain's voice.
"I think you're going to need every fighter we have just to protect our troopship and get out on the preplanned vector. We've handled with less."
"Understood, Major. All ships, move out of the gravity well and assume defensive posture...," he began, but was interrupted as the Imperial fleet dropped out of hyperspace.
Sure enough, the Imperials had pulled out all the stops: an Imperial Class Star Destroyer spearheaded the assault, supported by three Escort Carriers, two Strike Cruisers, a Carrack Cruiser, and most horrifying of all, an Interdictor. Heli knew her ship schematics by heart: the Star Destroyer alone would have been more than a match for the two Nebulon Bs and the Bulk Cruiser, but might have run into trouble with their fighter screen. With this support fleet, the Rebels were outgunned, outclassed and trapped between two gravity wells. Even once they cleared the planet, they would be unable to jump as long as the Interdictor remained online.
"This is Stardust Leader; we've got new orders. All fighters form up on Stardust Two and us: we're to make a run through the Imperial formation and hit the Interdictor. The Planetary Turbolaser cannon we've got on the Gallofree is the only thing that can kill it fast enough to save our fleet," Canson explained as the Open Pathway and Knockout angled out of the planet's gravity well and vectored straight towards the Imperial fleet.
"What about that Star Destroyer?" Lia asked, her voice betraying her nervousness.
Heli found herself replying, "Fleet Command'll worry about the Star Destroyer. We'll worry about the fighters and that Interdictor."
"Yes ma'am," came Lia's reply, trying to sound calm and failing.
"Trigger Squadron, form up on me, Delta Formation. Ready to break into pairs as soon as we hit the fray. Protect the Knockout at all costs. We'll only provide assistance with the Interdictor if they ask, or if we're sure there aren't any more fighters coming after them. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am!"
That was the last reasoned exchanged within Trigger Squadron for the rest of the battle. A moment later, and they were in the fray, confusion evident all around them. Heli wasn't sure which pilot she lost first, but it might have been Lia. She quickly lost track of losses, as they weren't important to her: survival for those were still alive was.
Trigger squadron suffered considerably less than Modrol Squadron, whose fighters were not built for large scale fighter combat. The Y-Wings were picked apart in less than two minutes, torn to pieces by wickedly fast TIE Interceptors. Phalanx Squadron, another X-Wing group, performed admirably, providing an impenetrable right flank screen for the Knockout. Trigger Squadron did their best, but a few bombers got through.
They didn't make it far enough to hit the Knockout, though; the Open Pathway's commander was competent, and his helmsman a professional with the wheel. Their turbolaser blasts eliminate the few bombers that made it through the fighter screen, and their shields took the torpedoes meant for the Knockout. She was a burning hulk by the time Stardust Group reached the Interdictor.
These were the facts of the battle, the conditions that threatened to overwhelm Heli Certense's untested squadron. Her responses, and her squadrons actions are what made the battle important.
"Heli, drop to vector 9-2-7," Ravin's voice almost ordered, "Two interceptors coming in fast."
Heli didn't need to answer; she knew to trust Ravin by this point in the battle. Her fighter pulled up hard, jinking and rolling all the way as the Interceptors changed their vector to match hers. The Imperials turn caused their profiles to become perfect targets. A series of blasts from Ravin's fighter turn them both into dust even as they targeted his lieutenant.
"You ok, LT?" he asked, targeting another TIE.
"Affirmative... Trigger Ten, Trigger Nine, come about to vector four-four-niner: bombers coming in fast."
"Roger that, LT," Berac's voice replied, "We've got 'em."
"Trigger Four, you still with me?" Heli asked, checking her targeting computer for the next opponent.
"Yeah, I'm with you, LT," Tandem answered, "Though my wingman's gone. Lost Lia and the Wroonian back there when those last two bomber and Interceptor squadrons tried to get through."
"I know. Form up with Ravin and me; you're no good without a wingman: we're gonna charge those Interceptors before they have a chance to mix it up with us."
"Roger that."
The three fighters broke towards a two flight formation of Interceptors moving in to provide a distraction so that the TIE bombers could make it through the fighter screen. "Once you achieve lock, fire off your torpedoes, then drop ten degrees and come up under them," Heli ordered, activating her own targeting computer.
The two other fighters in her formation opened up with a spread of torpedoes at almost the same moment as she did, then followed her orders precisely. She imitated their maneuver, only she angled ten degrees up. The Interceptors were then given the choice of coming head on with one of the two pairs, dealing with the torpedoes, or breaking and trying to outmaneuver the X-Wings. Two of the Imperial fighters choose wisely, breaking from their formation and circling hard while dropping flares. The other two angled to take on Tandem and Ravin, opening up at long range hoping to score some hits. The attack was a bad idea: one was hit by a proton torpedo that made it through it's flare screen, while the other was eliminated by Tandem's well placed fire.
The three X-Wings then passed each other in opposite directions, circling to come behind the TIE Interceptors even as the TIE Interceptors maneuvered to get behind them. The TIE pilots weren't quite sure which group to go after, so they broke formation, one continuing the chase after Ravin and Tandem, the other aiming for Heli. After breaking up the enemy formation, the Tandem hit the retrothrusters while Ravin kept moving. Unwilling or unable to stop in time, their Interceptor flew right into Tandem's stream of fire. After that, it was only the simple matter of a split S to mop up the fighter still attempting to take out Heli.
"Stardust Group, Fleet Group we are in range of the Interdictor, repeat within range. Opening fire."
A brilliant beam of light sprang from the Gallofree Gunship's starboard side as it's Planetary turbolaser cannon opened up. Heli could tell that though the Imperials had known the Knockout was coming, they had not expected the weapon embedded on its side to actually perform. This was evident in that they had not shifted any increased power into their forward shield systems, allowing the turbolaser to punch through and slam into one of the four gravity well generators.
"Power drained," Canson's voice sounded, even as panicked yelling and cursing could be heard in the background behind him, "Recharging for another shot. Give us twenty seconds."
The Imperials immediately recognized the threat was greater than they had supposed: what was left of the two of the remaining full squadrons of TIE Interceptors raced towards the Knockout, eager to eliminate it's pesky screen of determined defenders. It would be a simple matter to knock out its cannon after that: the standard quad lasers mounted on a Gallofree had been removed due to space constraints. The Interceptors, if left unmolested, could destroy the Knockout before she even had a chance to get off the second shot.
Heli immediately saw an opening to save the Knockout and keep the Interceptors busy long enough for the gunship to fire twice more, if needed.
"Phalanx Squadron, this is Trigger Leader; come to vector five-three-niner, go for two klicks, then come in on vector two-three-seven. Should be able to flank those TIEs. Leave your post. It's the only way to save the Knockout," she ordered.
"Affirmative, Trigger Leader," came the only reply from Phalanx Squadron. The squadron reeled, leaving two of it's number behind as point defense, burning on the vector Heli had given.
"Trigger Squadron, form up on me and come in on vector one-eight-four: we're going head to head with them. Keep them from splitting off to meet Phalanx."
Her remaining pilots operated as if they had always been a team, as if they had always worked together. Trigger Squadron moved quickly and fluidly, ending up between the Interceptors and their quarry: the interceptors would try to break through and get enough of their number in to damage the Knockout. That was all they needed: to damage the Knockout enough to keep her from firing again.
The next twenty seconds was a blur for Heli, though she shot down at least three of the opposing force. She really only noticed a few of the events that made up this, one of the most famous closein dogfights of the war. She saw Tandem's fighter exploded violently as an Interceptor slammed into him after his shields had been taken out. Normally a mid-flight collision wouldn't matter much with shields up, but in this case it triggered his proton torpedo magazine, consuming both fighters. She saw Berac's engine rip apart, and saw him go EV. She saw Ravin's starboard top S-Foil rip off, and saw him continue to fight with it. She saw Phalanx squadron swoop in, and then she saw it was over. The Knockout had fired again, fired twice. The Interdictor's gravity wells were gone, and the ship itself looked to be rapidly falling apart.
"This is Captain Disel: all ships break off and jump to hyperspace. Repeat, all ships escape immediately...," his voice pierced the com even as explosions and sirens wailed in the background.
"You heard the human!" Commander Tammith's voice roared over the com, "Everyone jump now; pick up anyone who's EV if you can, but get out!"
Every ship with an escape vector dropped into the welcoming arms of hyperspace. The battle was over, a victory of sorts.
------
"So, Chief Canson, when can I expect those replacements to arrive?" Heli asked, her hands on her hips.
"In another standard week, Captain Certense. I swear, for a woman who gets promoted as rapidly as you do, you sure aren't easy going."
"Was that fraggin' crack about the Captain, Canson?" Ravin asked, his mouth tentacles waving threateningly.
"Actually, yes, Lieutenant Ravin. We lost most of our force last week: I'm lucky if High Command sends us trained neks."
The three of them were seated at a table in the common area of Ysala Base, drinking heavily after a busy week of recovering from the battle at Pierton. Repairs, requisitions orders, debriefings, awards ceremonies, it had all kept them going constantly, until Commander Tammith had finally decided everyone needed some time off. Now that they were finally enjoying that time, all Heli could think about was their work.
It was Heli's way of dealing with the losses: she hadn't known the pilots very long, but she had already started to like them, started to want to protect them. She knew that it was unrealistic to believe she could keep them all alive, but the deaths hurt anyway. Heli knew that another truth hurt even more: that there would be more deaths, as long as the Rebellion continued. But she couldn't let that drive her nuts, or else she would never be able to continue as a squadron leader.
"Canson, I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Heli asked.
"Yes, Captain, but you're at least you're not running into the whole meekness thing anymore. How's Berac?"
"Alive, barely. I'm glad we were able to get him, though I'm guessing Rivan's ride back to base was a little crowded."
"It was at that, little Captain," Rivan admitted, "But it was worth it. Hate to lose a pilot to save my own neck."
"Speaking of that, did you get the tallies on what exactly happened afterwards, Canson?"
"As promised, Cap'n. But after this, you need to promise me that we won't discuss any kind of business for the rest of the night. I just want to get wasted and talk about shockball, or whatever it is normal people talk about."
"Alright, I promise, Canson: what's the final outcome?"
"We lost the Contessa and the Threshold's sister ship, Steadfast. The Threshold got to safety at Lison Base, restocked some fuel and then jumped back to Mon Cal, where it'll be overhauled. The troop transport managed to survive thanks to some pretty impressive point defense by the squadrons guarding it, and made it back to the Fleet. It got sent back to Mon Cal as well. One gunship got away, and parts of nine squadrons. Not bad, considering we were outnumbered."
"You didn't mention the one thing I really care about, Chief," Heli stared him down, her eyes narrowed.
Canson grinned broadly, "The transports got out. Despite the fact that Imperials sent half their fighter complement after them, they got out. Their escorts weren't so lucky; only Major Veradun and one other pilot survived. I hear Veraduns up for multiple awards, and they're moving him up to Lt. Colonel."
"Ok...," Heli started, but before she could continue, Canson interrupted her.
"Excuse me Captain, but you made a promise: nothing more on business. And both Rivan and me know exactly what your next question is going to be. Right, Rivan?"
"I'm afraid he is correct, Captain. Would either of you care to join me for a stroll on the beach? I was told there aren't any exceptionally predatory animals out there."
Heli grinned, "I'd be delighted, Rivan. You coming, Chief?"
"I think this looks remarkably like fraternization, but since we're the Rebellion, I don't think it really matters. Let's go."
The three soldiers got up from their table and walked out, towards the sea. They were a strange trio: A cheerful, easy going man, an angry, yet strangely caring Quarren and an unimaginative girl who wasn't quite as ordinary as she had thought she was. They walked towards times more peaceful than this. They walked towards a time when this would be but a dim memory. They walked, because that was the only way peace could reach them, in that one moment of peace between battles. Because finding those moments was sometimes the only pleasure a warrior could have.