This vignette here corresponds to Chapter 21 of Ruin. So here we go...

THE VOICE


"Spike Lead, you are clear to jump to point blood-niner."  The voice of the Chimaera flight control officer boomed in his headset.  Jag adjusted his flight glove one last time on his right hand before switching his comm over to the squadron frequency.

"All flights, prepare to jump on my mark.  Orders are to intercept Yuuzhan Vong fleet advancing on the New Republic forces.  Three, two, one, mark."

The field of stars stretched out before him and then dissolved into the familiar swirling vortex of hyperspace.  The jump would be short; the Imperial Fleet had been waiting outside the Garqi system for two days.  The New Republic Forces had now shown themselves, just as Admiral Palleaon had predicted.

Jag's clawcraft dropped from hyperspace near the embattled planet.  Before his eyes the New Republic Forces were holding off an overwhelming offensive from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet.  Spike Squadron had never flown against this new enemy before, but they had simmed for this scenario hundreds of times.  Time to see how much we really know.

A call came over the comm.  "This is New Republic vessel Best Chance.  Any and all help would be appreciated."

Jag noted the small freighter amidst a sea of coral.  He tagged the ship as friendly before keying his comm.  "Spike Two Flight, cover Best Chance back to the New Republic fleet."

A double-click on the comm confirmed the orders as Shawnkyr Nuruodo, his second-in-command guided her flight group of four away from the rest, heading for the beleaguered vessel.  Jag could see a flurry of X-wings dogging the coralskippers earnestly.  He could make out the crest on one as it made an inhuman reversal to stay on the wing of its lead fighter.  It was the Rogue Squadron emblem, his father's old unit.  Jag smirked behind the anonymity of his helmet, basking in the knowledge that Spike Squadron would be rescuing the heroes of the Rebellion.

The lead snubfighter laid down a trail of stutter fire across the skip in its sights, urging the vessel to veer away.  The trailing fighter, still faster from completing the crazy turnaround, came up under the lead craft and shot a full-force laser volley through the coralskip, which had weakened its shielding effect to compensate for the evasive maneuver.  Atmosphere vented from the skip in its dying throws.  Nice shot, Jag thought to himself.

"Spike One and Three Flights, engage enemy." Jag switched to the New Republic tactical frequency.  "Get clear, Rogues.  They are ours now.  Spike Lead out."

Jag led his flight group straight into the thick of the battle.  His pilots were well-trained and followed his lead with ease, spinning and weaving in an intricate dance with the enemy fighters.  Green fire rained down on the unsuspecting Yuuzhan Vong, who had never come up against such a foe.

Jag could make out the Chimaera maneuvering with the Ralroost to pin down a Yuuzhan Vong cruiser in a deadly volley of laser fire before twisting his fighter around its axis to avoid the molten fire shot out of a nearby skip.  The maneuver split his flight up into two pairs, each circling around to converge on a trio of skips.  As the outer two skips broke away from their pursuers, the clawcraft pairs blasted one and then the other to nothingness.

"Rogue Leader to all Rogues, recall is ordered.  Back to the 'Roost.  We have achieved our objective and we're heading home."  Jag knew this to be the voice of Colonel Gavin Darklighter, who had flown with his father many years ago.  Jag had spent any free time studying up on the New Republic Forces, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses, learning who the key players were.

All around skips were fleeing the coral graveyard, heading to the safety of the bigger transport ships.  Some of the clawcraft flights were still in pursuit, pounding the Yuuzhan Vong as they went.  Jag recognized the relative lack of gain from the effort.

"Spike Lead to all flights.  Cease pursuit of enemy craft and escort New Republic fighters back to the safety of the Bothan cruiser Ralroost."

The clawcraft flight groups responded immediately, winding around floating chunks of burning coral in unison and picking up pairs of Rogue Squadron X-wings.  Each set of four clawcraft wrapped around the snubfighters like a protective hand.  Jag predicted the X-wing hot shots would not appreciate the gesture of being escorted in by Imperial fighters of any type.  He spoke on the New Republic frequency as he descended on the pair of X-wings he had observed earlier in the battle.

"Don't worry Rogues, we have you now.  We'll get you home safely."

His remark had the desired effect, a female voice crackled through the comm static, indignation tainting her voice.  "Who are you?"

Jag was inwardly tickled with the result.  He would enjoy putting these Rebels in their place. He affected his most arrogant tone, practiced from years spent with his father. "We're simply the best combat pilots in the galaxy."  He paused.  Nothing but the truth there, he thought.  Now time to rub in where we come from. "We are a Chiss House phalanx, on loan to the New Republic by my father, General Baron Soontir Fel."

The female voice piped back.  "Did you here that, Twelve?  I guess we'll have to show them the error of their ways."  Something in the voice, free of static now, struck Jag right in the chest and sucked his breath away.

Before he could gather his usual unwavering composure, another female voice responded.  "I'm sure it can be arranged, Eleven."

"Twelve, I'm heading in; I'm tired of these babysitters."

That voice, what is it about that voice?

Jag was caught off-guard as the trailing snubfighter shot past her wingman.  She stood her fighter on its port S-foils, jerking the craft in an insane perpendicular cutback.  The move slipped her X-wing between his vessel and the second port clawcraft.  It was an impossibly tight fit; her S-foils passing close enough to cause the other Chiss pilot to pull back on his stick.  Jag did not flinch as she rolled around her axis within feet of his wings to turn back along the original line of flight.  The snubfighter accelerated as it went, flying solo at top speed toward the Bothan cruiser, where the other Rogue Squadron ships were already settling into the bay.

As best, Jag knew the move should have been near impossible in that type of fighter, but the owner of that haunting voice had made it look easy.  A stern voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Sticks, cut it out before you scare the Bothans out of their hides coming in at that speed.  There will be time enough later to prove Rogues are the best pilots in the galaxy."

Then one last time he heard her speak as her X-wing decelerated rapidly by standing on its tail.  "Yes, sir, Rogue Lead.  Time enough indeed."

Rogue Eleven disappeared into the safety of the Ralroost's hangar bay, vanishing from his sight.  As he maneuvered his clawcraft away from the cruiser, Jag shivered from a cold chill running down his spine, cold as a snowy night on Csilla.