6:11 P.M. Orlader Six

The stars, numerous in quantity, lit up the darkness of space with an iridescent glow all around the small planet, named by an Imperial probe as Orlader Six some seventeen years ago. The stars serenely encased the green-and-brown planet in their milky twinkle, lighting up all the oceans with a crystal glow, a beautiful shine.

Meanwhile, the Orlader star, another circle of brilliant white light, passed it's own glow over the tiny planet. On one side, it cast a powerful shadow over some continents and an ocean, consuming nearly half the planet, while on the other side the star shone brightly for thousands of kilometers.

The light guided gently over the metallic hulls of the Alliance star fleet, glinting off their weakly-polished surfaces. Bouncing from ship to ship, the glow soon encompassed a hive of starships. Hundreds of Alliance Cruisers floated lazily in space, peacefully awaiting their next move. Around them was the rest of the fleet, made up of Frigates, destroyers, and small support craft of many different shapes and sizes. These ships looked like a "ragtag" fleet next to the mighty Cruisers, but no Alliance fleet could ever be effective in a fight without their smaller comrades. So the fleet worked together, mighty teamed-up with tiny, as one huge force. But for now, all of the ships remained as peaceful and as quiet as the darkness around them...

Out of no where, an X-Wing shot forward, slicing a cut across the calm of the fleet, its thrusters practically red, excitedly racing on. It wasn't alone though. A hive of tens upon hundreds of tiny starfighters followed the X-Wing, their engines reflecting the intensity the upcoming battle would bring. The hive was scattered throughout the fleet, coasting across the surface's of Cruisers, swooping under the necks of Frigates and over the compact hulls of corvettes, gunships, and destroyers. Together, the mess of fighters rocketed towards the front of the fleet, paving the way for the rest to follow them. No one passed that first X-Wing though. It lead the pack towards their destined coordinates.

Bryan Rawling pushed back on the stick slightly, bumping his ship's nose up as he skimmed the surface of the Frigate Cernius. In his mind played the first part of "Into the Trap," the theme song in Return of the Jedi where the Millennium Falcon was leading the fighters to the jump coordinates to Endor. This was the last time he probably had to have a little fun, and he'd always loved doing dare-devilish things like just missing the wing on a Cruiser and flying fast past a hull segment, like he was about to do right now. Gently pushing down on the left rudder pedal, he tipped the X-Wing onto its side, "swooshing" past the Cernius's topside shield generator. Or, at least in Bryan's mind it "swooshed". That was one of the things that he hated most about space. No sound whatsoever.

The surface quickly vanished behind him, and he was now looking at only two more Cruisers to pass before he was at the front of the fleet. He casually gazed around at the scene behind him, at all the starfighters flying forward. The numbers of this battle were astonishing. He had never known that the Alliance was this big, especially since he had grown up dorkishly loving the movie Star Wars, reading as many of the books as he could, playing almost all the games. So in his mind, the Alliance was supposed to be a small organization that didn't stand a chance at winning but eventually did. This was like a dream come true; leading hundreds of Rebel fighters into battle against the Empire, in what he hoped would be an epic showdown, though he prayed the loss of life would be very minimal. He hated death. So many battles where so many people had lost their lives...

Bryan shook his head and blinked. Enough of that, he thought. Time to get to work. The last Cruiser was passing by the cockpit now. Ahead of him was open space, with Orlader Six barely in the view. Flipping the stand-by com switch, he opened a channel to the Liberty and said the famous words of Lando Calrissian: "Admiral, we're in position. All fighters accounted for."

Emilie answered in almost the same fashion as Admiral Ackbar had in Jedi "Proceed with the countdown. All ships assume attack coordinates. Twenty seconds to hyperspace." She closed the channel.

Taking a deep breath and letting it go, Bryan said to himself, "Here we go." "Amutihana imidicana"—"Don' worry. My friend's down there. He'll have that shield on time."—"haminiah haoot?"—"Or this'll be the shortest offen—"

Just then, a blinking white light appeared on the com. Call waiting. Flipping the switch again: "Commander Rawling here, go ahead."

"Hey, it's Justin. Before we leave I want ya to listen to this. It's a signal coming from a passenger carrier called the Syphus. They really like ya. Hang on...there we go." Justin's voice was slowly drowned out by the rising sound of people chanting and then pounding. Soon enough though, he heard his name in between pounds. Bump bump "Raw-ling!" bump bump "Raw-ling!" bump bump "Raw-ling!"

Bryan started laughing. "Are you kidding me?" This was strange. Minus the fact that he wasn't used to be cheered on by anybody, he also didn't know anybody, civilian or crew, on the Syphus. He didn't even know what type that was. "Come on, I'm just a Commander. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So? They still like you."

Bryan shrugged. "I dunno. It's cool I guess."

"All right. I'll see ya over there. Good luck. Later."

"You too, bye," Bryan said, closing the channel as Puck signaled the five-seconds light. Sitting back, he shook his head. Why do they cheer me on? I'm just a Commander. Nothing more, nothing less. It's the rest of 'em that deserve all the credit. The pilot's of the Rebellion...

The stars expanded and streaked into lines of tremendous length, and the X-wing blasted off into hyperspace.