Author's Note: Hello, all! There's been some restructuring in my outline, so things will be a little different than I anticipated. For one thing, I'm breaking the big battle chapter up into smaller pieces-you can expect the battle itself in Chapter 8, to be posted 3-5 days from now-and for another, I will introduce the Sisters of Battle somewhat later, to make the plot flow better. Anyway, rest assured that this short chapter will be followed by a longer one. Enjoy!


Aboard the Steadfast, 2.21 AVY:

Hyperspace looked different in this universe. Luke was used to a swirling blue tunnel, a bright light dead ahead, lighter and darker patches streaking calmly past like foam on a stream. He'd seen it through countless starship windows since leaving Tatooine, and he had assumed that it would be the same in a new galaxy. Here, though, hyperspace was tinted purple, not blue, and the normally innocent patterns bulged and slithered like writing serpents, leaving him with an impression of something deeply… unwholesome. He stared at it for a few seconds, then turned from the window. He had an awful headache.

"I don't know about you, but the sooner we drop back into realspace, the better," Luke told the rest of his squadron, clustered around a few tables in the ready room. There were eleven of them, all told—they'd lost one, Javier, over Ophidia—and while casualties were par for the course in the Emperor's service, it did put a sombre tint on things.

"Tell me about it," said Mara Aurelian, one of a handful of women in the Steadfast's TIE wing, and one of two in the Interceptor squadron. Luke rather fancied her, but he hadn't yet worked up the courage to do anything about it. "I haven't been able to sleep right."

"You never do," said Wes Hernano, who had his arm wrapped around the other female pilot, Octavia Redheth. Everyone knew they were an item, and the squadron leader turned a blind eye to it. "Remember three weeks ago, when you missed a night's sleep and had to sit out the next day's flight? We got a reprimand for that."

"But this is different."

"I think she's right," Luke spoke up. "I've had some odd dreams, myself."

He and the rest of the squadron had only gotten six hours of rest in the day since they'd transited, most of the rest of their time spent debriefing or flying sorties in support of Operation Falcon. Of those six hours Luke had probably slept for three. The fragments he recalled…

Visions of a figure in black armor. A blood-red sky streaked with smoke. Stone towers, impossibly tall, with flying buttresses arranged haphazardly around them like monstrous legs. A symbol like a wheel, with eight points.

"Me, too," said Vri Cambran, leader of Gamma Flight. "I take it I'm not the only one who gets the creeps from this place."

Octavia gestured towards the swirling lights of hyperspace. "Just look out the window, Vri. That's enough to give anyone the creeps."

Without warning, the klaxon over the door started blaring. Luke jumped, Mara glanced from side to side, Wes pulled his arm back from around his girlfriend—they all knew what the noise meant.

"Fifth Squadron, report to your fighters," announced a voice over the intercom. "Fifth Squadron, report to your fighters. We will be exiting hyperspace in ten minutes."

"All right, people, no more chitchat," said the squadron leader, Sal Yurvel. "The Empire needs us. Let's go!"

Everyone was already suited up—minus their helmets, which hung on a rack on the far wall. Luke rushed to grab one, then followed Sal through the door and into the corridor beyond. The squadron proceeded together at a quick trot, two abreast, helmets hanging by their sides, and despite the squadron leader's order they spoke excitedly amongst themselves.

"I hope we get to face starfighters," Luke said.

"Careful what you wish for," said Murkel. "Who's to say whether our fighters are better than theirs?"

"We took on two cruisers, at that last planet. They didn't put up too much of a fight."

"That's because they were outnumbered ten to one."

Luke remembered the ships: bulky things, as long as an Imperial Star Destroyer but much thicker, with enormous pointed prows and conning towers along the centerline. Despite their numerical inferiority, they had managed to nearly cripple the Torment before going down. It had been a battle, technically, but Luke hadn't had anything to do but fly around and engage point defense batteries, much as he had over Ophidia and other worlds. Perhaps this time would be different.

"Any bets on who will get the most kills?" Wes said.

"Come on, that's not fair," replied Octavia. "It's always Skywalker!"

Luke shrugged. Mara looked over her shoulder at him. Interest, perhaps? Or was he reading too much into it?

The ready room was not far from the hangar, where the starfighter wing awaited launch. On the way there Luke spotted other groups of pilots, for standard TIEs and bombers alike, hurrying along in groups of nominally twelve—though everyone had taken some casualties. The Steadfast probably had about fifty or sixty craft still in working order. How many it would carry back home would depend on how stiff enemy resistance was, and how effectively Luke and his comrades fought.

They reached the hangar. A pair of naval troopers waved them through, only making a cursory inspection of Sal's security clearance.

"All right, everyone!" Sal said, as they emerged from the last corridor onto a network of catwalks over a wide, sterile space. Below were the transfer carrier tracks, which returned fighters from the landing bay to the launch bay, and ahead, by the doors, were rows of TIEs suspended from overhead cradles. "I will give you more detailed orders once we're in the air and able to assess the situation. Before then, be ready to launch the moment this ship drops from hyperspace. Fly safe!"

He was met by nods and affirmatives. Luke ran down the catwalk to his assigned hangar, Bay Three, marked by a painted numeral on the bulkhead separating it from Bay Four. Wes and Murkel followed close behind; while the squadron was dispersed throughout several hangars, so that one lucky hit or accident didn't destroy their whole unit, Luke and the two pilots under his command always launched together.

He found his assigned fighter nestled between two other Interceptors. Markings on the starboard solar collector identified it as serial number 081-A-3. Last mission he had flown 086-B-1, and before that 031-H-7; the Empire discouraged its pilots from getting too attached to any one ship, which was a real shame, because if anybody let him he was sure he could make some useful modifications.

"Good luck out there," he told Wes. "Make sure your radio works this time."

"Of course, Luke. You make sure not to hog all the kills."

Luke smiled, then put on his helmet. A green light flashed in the corner of his vision to indicate that the seals were tight and oxygen was flowing. He turned, put his foot on the top rung of the ladder, and climbed down into the open hatch of his TIE, dropping the last meter or so into the pilot's seat.

A flip of an overhead switch activated the cockpit instrumentation. A few more switches turned on main power, started the ion engine, and booted the targeting computer. The vehicle came to life, its familiar sounds and glowing readouts identical to those of any other Interceptor. A quick glance around the control panels showed that everything was nominal; the maintenance crews had kept this ship in perfect shape.

He felt a slight tug of deceleration, pulling him to the side. The TIE swung a few degrees in its cradle. That was the Steadfast dropping out of hyperspace, near the enemy world of Graval Prime—and it was also a signal that takeoff was only seconds away.

Sal's voice came through the squadron comlink: "All right, Squadron Five, we're there. Hangar control says we're go for takeoff."

The launch door slid open directly ahead. There was a metallic clunk as the craft nearest to it, Wes Hernano's, dropped from its cradle, followed by the scream of an ion drive as he piloted it out of the hangar, quickly veering out of sight.

"Beta Three, off and away," Wes radioed.

Luke was next. The conveyor advanced, moving his craft towards the yawning gulf of the hangar bay. The main doors were open and he could just barely see the bright blue curve of the planet below. He gunned up the engines, causing his TIE to strain forward, and then the clamps released, freeing him to hurtle across the hangar. He pitched down just before he impacted the far side.

"Beta One, off and away," he reported.

There was a brief hiss as the TIE vented air into space—it was that much less mass to push around, and it also removed the risk of explosive decompression. Luke was now in a vacuum and taking off his helmet would kill him.

He found Beta Three ahead of the Steadfast, some hundreds of meters to starboard. Additional TIEs from the line and bomber squadrons were already out, too—and that was to say nothing of the swarms emerging from the other Star Destroyers, which would demonstrate the might of the Empire by filling this planet's sky.

"Beta Two, off and away," Murkel said, swooping down behind him.

"Roger that," Luke said, "Let's follow the squadron leader."

His flight was out and ready to hunt. He saw an Interceptor hurtle past him, which a glance at the radar display revealed to be Mara in Delta One, and much further afield, as well as dead ahead, he spotted starships of Imperium manufacture. Gothic spires and armored prows dominated their architecture. There was one larger craft—very large, actually, it had to be more than five kilometers long—and six like the cruisers he'd seen earlier. They hovered near the planet, in low orbit, the size of a little fingernail at arm's length. A fleet caught unprepared.

"Squadron Five, form up on my position," radioed Sal. "Looks like we've found our opposition."

"Affirmative, Alpha One." Luke picked out Sal's fighter, moved into his place in a V-formation, and accelerated towards the enemy ships. Turbolaser bolts streaked out over his head. Some rained down on the planet, some were directed towards the hostile contacts, and he watched them blossom into rings of purple energy as they impacted the enemy's shields, dispersing like ripples in a pond. No visible damage, yet.

The battle had begun.


Author's Note: Next time, I'll deliver the starfighter action I've promised, with Imperial TIEs facing Imperial Fury Interceptors. Stay tuned! Also, I highly recommend the book Star Wars: Incredible Cross-Sections as well as OtaKing77077's TIE Fighter short film (available on YouTube). They were both invaluable resources for researching this story.