Title: A New Path
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.
* * * * *
Chapter 1: Tragedy
* * * * *
"Think we'll see any action?" Detar Sekra excitedly asked his wingmate, Tycho Celchu.
Tycho frowned at the flight officer. His last wingman had died in their last engagement, only a few weeks earlier, and he had no wish to see any more fighting. "I don't know, but I hope not. We've seen enough combat already this mission," the lieutenant replied.
Shaking his head, Tycho turned back to the HoloNet monitor. He'd been talking to his family and fiancé, a special call his father, an executive with - and part owner of - the major HoloNet company on his home planet of Alderaan, had arranged to celebrate his birthday. It was his first since he'd graduated from the academy and become a TIE fighter pilot. Unfortunately, the connection had been broken. He'd been trying for two hours to get it back, to no avail. "14:42," he said to Detar. Remember that."
"Gonna give your dad a hard time?" his wingman asked.
"You bet - if I ever get to talk to him again. I can't bring the connection back."
"You will. But probably not today. Give it up, will you, and let's go get something to eat, huh?"
Casting one last glance at the monitor, he stood and nodded. Together they left the room and headed down two decks to the pilots' lounge.
Walking in, Tycho saw a handful of his squadron members sitting in a booth in the back corner, and the two joined the group there. The HoloNews was on, and he glanced quickly at the screen before turning his attention to the menu - a superfluous gesture because he already knew what he wanted.
A droid approached to take his order and promptly departed, and Tycho turned to his friends. "Happy Birthday, kid," Setyn Klay said. He was a lieutenant, like Tycho, but was a few years older. "And may we all live to see another."
"I'll drink to that, but if you keep flying the way you did in the last sim run, you probably won't," Tycho said with a grin as the serving droid set his glass of Whyren's Reserve in front of him. Birthdays were rare for TIE pilots. Their shield-less ships - and the skill of the smugglers, pirates, and rebels they fought - were not inducive to long lives.
"But remember," Kev Tsenae interjected, "The longer you live, the better you get, and the better your chances of getting out of the fighters and getting to play with the big ships."
Tycho shook his head. "Not interested. I like the fighters, thank you. One on one, face to face. That's the way I like to play."
"Yeah, well," Detar commented, "You're good enough to do that. The rest of us who don't have your natural talent won't survive long that way."
"How did a pilot like you come out of a planet that hates violence so much it shipped all its weapons out into the dark side of the galaxy?" Kev asked.
He shrugged. "Not all ships have to have weaponry. And we do need to have ships. Plus, you'll notice that most Alderaanian ships are armed. Alderaanians may be pacifists, but we're also pragmatic." It was a strange statement for him, because he himself wasn't a pacifist, and he believed that those of his culture who were really weren't very practical.
"What good is having guns on their ships, though, if they're not going to pull the trigger?" Kev remarked snidely.
"Let's not start this argument again, huh?" Setyn interrupted. "We've had this conversation, what, twenty times in the last month? Aren't you getting tired of it by now?"
"Yeah, besides," Detar chimed in, "You're supposed to be at least civil to someone on his birthday."
Tycho just shook his head and sipped his drink. Setyn was right. He was getting tired of this argument - and especially of defending a point of view he really didn't agree with anyway.
Suddenly, Tycho's attention was brutally wrenched back to the news by words that would forever be burned into his memory. The reporter was saying, "At just earlier than 1500 hours this afternoon, the so-called Rebel Alliance committed its greatest atrocity yet. A space station they have aptly named the "Death Star" entered Alderaanian space just over two hours ago, at which time the Repels activated an advanced new superlaser, and completely destroyed the planet of Alderaan. The pacifist world has been reduced to an asteroid field." She started to repeat herself, but Tycho was no longer hearing her words.
Tycho stared at the screen as the room began to spin around him. He tried to speak, but words failed him. Then everything went black.
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.
* * * * *
Chapter 1: Tragedy
* * * * *
"Think we'll see any action?" Detar Sekra excitedly asked his wingmate, Tycho Celchu.
Tycho frowned at the flight officer. His last wingman had died in their last engagement, only a few weeks earlier, and he had no wish to see any more fighting. "I don't know, but I hope not. We've seen enough combat already this mission," the lieutenant replied.
Shaking his head, Tycho turned back to the HoloNet monitor. He'd been talking to his family and fiancé, a special call his father, an executive with - and part owner of - the major HoloNet company on his home planet of Alderaan, had arranged to celebrate his birthday. It was his first since he'd graduated from the academy and become a TIE fighter pilot. Unfortunately, the connection had been broken. He'd been trying for two hours to get it back, to no avail. "14:42," he said to Detar. Remember that."
"Gonna give your dad a hard time?" his wingman asked.
"You bet - if I ever get to talk to him again. I can't bring the connection back."
"You will. But probably not today. Give it up, will you, and let's go get something to eat, huh?"
Casting one last glance at the monitor, he stood and nodded. Together they left the room and headed down two decks to the pilots' lounge.
Walking in, Tycho saw a handful of his squadron members sitting in a booth in the back corner, and the two joined the group there. The HoloNews was on, and he glanced quickly at the screen before turning his attention to the menu - a superfluous gesture because he already knew what he wanted.
A droid approached to take his order and promptly departed, and Tycho turned to his friends. "Happy Birthday, kid," Setyn Klay said. He was a lieutenant, like Tycho, but was a few years older. "And may we all live to see another."
"I'll drink to that, but if you keep flying the way you did in the last sim run, you probably won't," Tycho said with a grin as the serving droid set his glass of Whyren's Reserve in front of him. Birthdays were rare for TIE pilots. Their shield-less ships - and the skill of the smugglers, pirates, and rebels they fought - were not inducive to long lives.
"But remember," Kev Tsenae interjected, "The longer you live, the better you get, and the better your chances of getting out of the fighters and getting to play with the big ships."
Tycho shook his head. "Not interested. I like the fighters, thank you. One on one, face to face. That's the way I like to play."
"Yeah, well," Detar commented, "You're good enough to do that. The rest of us who don't have your natural talent won't survive long that way."
"How did a pilot like you come out of a planet that hates violence so much it shipped all its weapons out into the dark side of the galaxy?" Kev asked.
He shrugged. "Not all ships have to have weaponry. And we do need to have ships. Plus, you'll notice that most Alderaanian ships are armed. Alderaanians may be pacifists, but we're also pragmatic." It was a strange statement for him, because he himself wasn't a pacifist, and he believed that those of his culture who were really weren't very practical.
"What good is having guns on their ships, though, if they're not going to pull the trigger?" Kev remarked snidely.
"Let's not start this argument again, huh?" Setyn interrupted. "We've had this conversation, what, twenty times in the last month? Aren't you getting tired of it by now?"
"Yeah, besides," Detar chimed in, "You're supposed to be at least civil to someone on his birthday."
Tycho just shook his head and sipped his drink. Setyn was right. He was getting tired of this argument - and especially of defending a point of view he really didn't agree with anyway.
Suddenly, Tycho's attention was brutally wrenched back to the news by words that would forever be burned into his memory. The reporter was saying, "At just earlier than 1500 hours this afternoon, the so-called Rebel Alliance committed its greatest atrocity yet. A space station they have aptly named the "Death Star" entered Alderaanian space just over two hours ago, at which time the Repels activated an advanced new superlaser, and completely destroyed the planet of Alderaan. The pacifist world has been reduced to an asteroid field." She started to repeat herself, but Tycho was no longer hearing her words.
Tycho stared at the screen as the room began to spin around him. He tried to speak, but words failed him. Then everything went black.