Chapter 3
Tilyer sighed as he sat his meal tray on the mess table. It was something he'd been doing quite a bit the past four days—sighing, that is. He grimaced with distaste at the various bland squares and slops on his tray. The serving droids said the orange one would taste just like roast nerf, but Tilyer had found that to be a lie the first day. He picked at the unappetizing food, just trying to sate his hunger for now and thinking over the events of the past few days.
The Enforcer had made its stop in Corellia on schedule, picking up further provisions and, to Tilyer's surprise, a detachment of storm troopers. In fact, he had been among the officers assembled to receive the new troops. He would never forget the moment when the first pair of white-clad feet hit the deck. The way the stormtrooper captain paused and calmly raked his emotionless bug-eyed gaze over the assembled men sent chills up Tilyer's spine.
He had heard many rumors about stormtroopers during his time in the academy. One brave and very gullible soul said that all stormtroopers were genetic clones bred to be impervious to pain, fear, and every other human sentiment. No one really believed him about the clone part, but the rigid discipline and strict adherence to duty apparent in all stormtroopers made the latter part seem all too possible. Tilyer had never been that close to a trooper before, but he was immediately glad that they were on his side.
"Mind if we sit here?" an annoyingly cheerful voice asked from behind.
Before he could turn around, the speaker circled the table. He was of comparable build to Tilyer, trim and clad in an olive-gray officer's uniform—not surprising, considering this was the officer's mess. He smoothed down his parted hair as he flashed Tilyer a disarming grin.
Tilyer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw Linia Taulin trailing behind him. He had only seen her face a few times since he'd been on the ship, and those instances had always been in the hallways when each on his own respective errand. Still, every time he saw her, she had only uttered a meek greeting and hurried on her way as if anxious to escape Tilyer's presence.
He was so taken aback that she was actually making an attempt to be sociable that he forgot his mouth was still open. He hurriedly mumbled an affirmative, motioning to the seats on the other side of the table.
The young officer smiled and took the seat. Linia followed suit rather reluctantly, but said nothing in protest. The young man offered his hand to Tilyer, "I'm Lieutenant Urtis Dusat. A pleasure to meet you. And you are?"
Tilyer gave him a half-hearted smile, grasping the man's hand, "Flight Officer Tilyer Raan. Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," Dusat said pleasantly, digging into his meal. After a bite, he paused, "Oh, how clumsy of me." He gestured to Linia, "This is Ensign Linia Taulin."
"We've met," she said quietly.
Dusat just shrugged and continued the conversation, "Ah, good. Well then, I suppose you're a pilot?"
"Yes, a TIE fighter pilot."
"Ah, wonderful. What better way to serve the Empire? As for me, I man the sensor station up on the bridge. That's where Ensign Taulin and I met."
Tilyer nodded absently. This one was almost as annoying as Gable. Still, he was a fellow officer. He could at least keep up the small talk for courtesy's sake. "Ah, do you like it?" he finally asked.
Dusat shrugged, "I can't complain. It's got its high and low points, but the bridge can be pretty exciting at times—a lot more than what I used to get as a computer programmer before joining up." He chuckled, "It's not very glamorous, but we all must do our part to help in these times of strife, 'eh?"
Tilyer smiled despite himself. Finally, he found someone else on this ship who took pride in his work and his government.
"How about you?" Dusat asked.
"Things could be better. My fighter has been in two separate pieces these past few days, so I have pretty much been confined to running errands and practicing in the sims. Lieutenant Del'Goren has been putting me through the paces, though. He's proven to be an impeccable pilot."
Urtis laughed, "Of course."
"The technicians just got done putting my TIE back together, actually. I'm anxious about my first mission, whenever that happens."
An electronic chirp sounded from Dusat's breast pocket.
"Oh, that would be the bridge," he said with an apologetic smile. "Please, excuse me. Enjoy your meals." The Lieutenant made for the door, holding the commlink to his lips as he disappeared into the hall.
"If you can call it that," Tilyer said flatly, poking the orange square with his fork.
"What are you going to name it?" Linia suddenly asked.
Tilyer was so taken surprised by her comment, for a moment he said nothing. "Um, name what?"
"Your ship."
"My fighter? Well, I hadn't really thought about it," he stammered. "I suppose Alpha 001-2 will do."
"I heard that it's a tradition among pilots," she said meekly. She abruptly went back to eating her dinner, almost as if ashamed at her clumsy statement.
For several long moments Linia and Tilyer said nothing as they pretended to eat their meals. Linia broke the awkward silence first. "You know, my father served in the Imperial Navy. He was a pilot too."
"Really?"
"Yes," she replied, not looking up from her plate.
"What did he pilot?"
"One of those old Z-95 Headhunters. They were top of the line back then before the Empire introduced the TIE series. He was actually pretty good from what I hear."
Tilyer smiled, "And what did he name his ship?"
"Vigilance. He really believed in the new galactic order. He thought it would better life for us all, being under one supreme ruler and not having to debate every decision in the Senate. He reminds me of Urtis. Both of them believe so strongly in the Empire . . . too bad that faith couldn't save him when his ship's fuel cells ruptured." She grew quiet.
Tilyer's mind raced, trying to think of something appropriate to say. She pressed on, however, before he could speak. "You know, it's funny. I joined the Navy to try to please him, even though he died two years before that, leaving me to carry on the Taulin line." She gave a humorless laugh. "I felt I owed it to him to leave behind a legacy he'd be proud of. It was his name that got me into the Academy anyway—being a woman and all."
Tilyer chuckled nervously, "Oh? I hadn't noticed."
They shared a laugh at the feeble joke, and once more silence fell over the table like a palpable blanket.
"I joined because of my brother, Mikal," Tilyer said quietly.
"Oh?" she asked with a slight smile, "Is he a pilot too?"
Tilyer glanced downward, "No, he joined the medical corps . . . but not any more. He was on the Death Star when the Rebels attacked."
Linia lowered her eyes. She reached out slowly and patted his hand sympathetically. "I understand."
He gave her a half-hearted smile.
"Listen," he said, abruptly changing the subject, "I'm sorry about how I acted before when we first met."
Linia waved away the apology. She smiled, "I understand."
The intercom suddenly clicked on, "Attention all hands. We shall soon exit hyperspace into the Malastare system. Man your stations and prepare for reentry into real space. That is all."
Tilyer raised his eyebrows, "I didn't know we were going to be stopping any time soon."
"Neither did I, but we'd best be going," Linia said as she stood.
"Yes, we should."
She paused a moment as if thinking of something else to say, then turned on her heel and strode out the door.
Linia Taulin rushed past the white-armored figure stationed at the bridge entrance, her breath coming in beleaguered pants. The stormtrooper hardly moved from his stance, but she swore she could feel his glossy-eyed stare following her every move as she slid into her seat before the communications consol. Beside her, Urtis flashed welcoming smile before turning back to his own work.
She could see Captain Ygra and Commander Venka talking from where they stood before the transparent durasteel that made up the bridge viewport. The captain stood with his hands clasped behind his back gazing out into the molten blue skies of hyperspace. His demeanor had changed since their departure from Imperial Center. He seemed like a new man to just about every member of the crew. Perhaps the promise of glory had instilled in him a new purpose, a chance to prove himself before he was inevitably forced into retirement.
"How many minutes until entry into real space?" he called back Linia, Urtis, and the other four crewmen and officers manning posts on the bridge.
Dusat was quick to pipe up, "ETA, two minutes sir."
Ygra nodded without even turning around, "Very well. Keep me posted."
"Malastare is not our destination," Commander Venka stated flatly.
"Yes, but it is on our way," the captain replied smoothly.
"Are you expecting any rebel activity?"
Captain Ygra smiled, "You read my mind, Lieutenant. You see, the native Dug species has seen fit to reignite their feud with the Gran that built a colony on the world in the old days of the Republic. Imperial high command seems content to let them resolve the conflict themselves, since there are not critical installations or industries located in the vicinity. Even so, the conflict has thrown the shipping lanes into disarray. I suspect we might catch a rebel or two trying to make a break for the core worlds in the midst of the confusion."
Venka nodded knowingly, "As long as it is on our way, it cannot hurt."
"Don't worry. We will only stay long enough to make a quick reconnoiter and then be on our way in just a few hours."
"Entry into real space in ten seconds," Dusat called out.
"We will find out shortly whether or not this delay was worth our while or not," Commander Venka said noncommittally.
One of the other bridge crewmen counted down the reentry, finally easing back on the lever at his console to release the Enforcer from hyperspace. The molted blue outside the view port faded into star lines, shrinking down into individual pinpricks of light as space took form around them. Malastare hung below the view port, a distant collection of varied greens and browns surrounded by the black void of space.
Linia quickly began typing commands on her console to establish a communications link with planetary customs.
"Shields up," Captain Ygra ordered. The sound of coursing electricity thrummed around the bulkhead as the protective bubble of energy suddenly enveloped the Enforcer.
"Sensors, report," Venka barked.
"Normal space traffic, sir," Urtis responded quickly. "A large convoy from the Aldison trading consortium lies just off our starboard side. They seem to be making for the orbital loading station."
"Nothing suspicious?"
"No sir. The first ships of the convoy are just beginning to cross our bow."
The Enforcer suddenly shuddered. Linia lurched forward in her seat, grasping the edges of her console. Just a split second later another violent blast rocked the ship. Captain Ygra managed to steady himself as Venka bounced off the transparisteel bulkhead and stumbled backwards.
"Report!" Ygra exclaimed. Venka said nothing. He was too busy trying to catch the blood streaming from his broken nose.
"Shields low, but no significant hull damage!" a technician cried out.
Urtis' voice was frantic, "We were just hit with two proton torpedoes. I'm counting two fighters and two space transports. They're making a run for the surface!"
"Rebels!" Captain Ygra exclaimed.
"Launch the fighters!" Venka roared. He gave up trying to keep the blood from his uniform and pointed accusingly at Urtis, "We can discuss your performance later, Lieutenant Dusat. Right now, I want those rebel dogs!"
Linia turned to relay the orders, but she couldn't help from noticing Commander Venka's red-stained fists and the blood that dribbled down his chin and onto his pristine uniform.
