p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Forward/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"This is a stand-alone story in the tradition of Michael Stackpole and Aaron Allston's "X-wing" series. I've always loved Star Wars, especially the WWII era inspired dogfighting. And while I'm of course a fan of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Obi-wan Kenobi, the Force, and the story of the Jedi, my favorite character has always been Wedge Antilles. First seen as Red Two, the X-wing pilot who famously blurts out, "look at the size of that thing!" as they begin their attack on the Death Star and later must pull out of the trench run after being hit by Vader, Wedge is just a decent person with no force abilities and only his skills as a pilot fighting to take on the Empire. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"I've always wanted to tell similar stories about the everyday combatants of the Galactic Civil War and this is my first stab at it. If I'm happy with it and it goes well, I'll see about trying to make it into an ongoing series or longer novel. Captain Salaban and the emAllegiance/em are actually characters introduced by Allston in "X-wing: Starfighters of Adumar," book 8 of the series. They're peripheral characters so I decided to flesh them out a bit here. Likewise, High Flight is the X-wing squadron assigned to the ship but no further information is provided. All other characters are my own. No history is given to the emAllegiance/em other than her being a captured emImperial Mark I/em Star Destroyer, presumably post-Endor./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Finally, this being my first attempt and first time using a site like this, I may re-issue this story with updates and tweeks. But for now, I wanted to put what I have out there to get some momentum going and hear from readers. Feedback is welcome and, most of all, I hope you enjoy. May the Force be with you! /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Reptar/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"- /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Fog of War/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie's S-foils weren't opening. Again. Eba Eschaton, High Flight Seven, smirked into his ears over the comms despite the gravity of the situation. "Trouble getting her to open up again, Auggie? I told you. Gently but firmly." Before he could respond, RT-80, slotted in behind him, blurted out a harsh noise over the frequency, cutting her off. emMost loyal droid in the fleet/em, Auggie thought with a smile. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Thanks, Arty." emArtoo-who?/em That had been Auggie's response whenever people commented that Arty's silver, blue, and white patterning resembled a certain famous astromech after the Luke Skywalker's famous attack on the Death Star. As far as he was concerned though, there was only Arty and every other astromech in the universe. No exceptions./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" Eba's voice wormed its way back into his ear. "Oh, now you've got your astromech fighting for you?" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie started to roll his eyes before realizing it took the S-foil control lever out of his field of vision, "Stuff it, Eez!" Inside the cramped cockpit of High Flight Six, Auggie begrudgingly slowed his frantic toggling of the lever and took a deep breath. emIf this works/em, he promised himself, emI'm flying into a black hole before I tell her/em. Holding it, he steadied his hand on the stick and, with more concentration than the lever deserved, gently but firmly toggled it into the strike position. A triumphant melody of chirps sounded from RT-80 and, to Auggie's either side, the T-65 X-wing extended its S-foils like a bird of prey. Auggie slumped back into his seat. He didn't know what god or force ghost decided to gift him with High Flight's most mechanically misbegotten snubfighter, but it was his. emHis/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Turning his attention to Two Flight, he settled into the right and slightly below his flight element's leader's starboard engines. As usual, Jak Corbyn, High Flight Five, hadn't commented on his wingman's fickle S-foils. He always trusted Auggie to work it out. Or speak up if he couldn't. And Auggie valued that trust more than a second set of deflector shields. He never felt more professional, more proud, than these moments before the battle, when he and the rest of Two Flight came together to meet the coming conflict together. He never felt more calm, more confident— Eez's taunting voice whispered into his ear through the helmet mounted mic: "You did it the way I told you. Didn't you?" Behind him, RT-80's domed head shook back and forth sadly. emWell/em, he thought, emat least I'll never get cocky. /em/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salabanem's /emvoice crackled over the battle frequency. "emAllegiance's/em sensors show the frigate rolling to port to shield her hanger bay. Prepare for fighters to launch while we're blind. Shuttles report ETA two mikes. All squadrons report in." Squadron commanders signaled their readiness across the battle space. There was Captain Sigil of Geronimo, a mixed squadron of B-wings and Y-wings, Captain Flock of Zyperion, a partial squadron of A-wings, and, finally, High Flight's very own Captain Cable. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Able Cable" as he was known had been flying snubfighters for almost as long as the Alliance had them. His calm demeanor always carried them through. "All right, HiFlys, listen up. emAllie/em is gonna hang back and collect the remaining shuttles. We're not looking to stick around so no going and picking a dedicated dance partner. Nothing's launched yet but if they do it's one pass for targets of opportunity prioritizing any dupes or squints. Once we're through it's a single volley of torps on the frigate and then we reassess. The Zyps will corral anybody who breaks through our lines and the Gee's stay close to the barn in case anybody else shows up late to the party. Do not engage the frigate on your own. Wait for the go ahead from your element leaders or else you might as well be spitting at it. Got it?" Up ahead, Cable's X-wing began rising relative to the frigate, repulsorlifts keeping the nose pointed at the frigate's rapidly expanding silhouette. Auggie and the rest of High Flight followed suit, clicking their mics for quick confirmation of his orders. To Auggie's ears it sounded like the chirping of evening insects back at home. Perhaps not the most intimidating battle cry but familiar and therefore comforting. With less than a minute to intercept Jak checked in with Two flight. "Deflectors double front. Keep your vectors clear of emAllie's/em firing lanes. Here we go." Auggie reached up and punched the overhead canopy once, twice. Behind him Arty's manipulator reached forward and could be dimly heard knocking back against the rear canopy. Their pre-battle ritual complete, Auggie committed his ship — their ship — to battle. Over the nose of his fighter the first of the enemy's emerald lasers began to reach out to greet them./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"On the bridge of the emAllegiance/em, Lieutenant Commander Cal Bekdh of Chandrilla and Captain Salaban's preferred Flight Control Coordinator of the three stationed aboard the Imperial-I class Star Destroyer watched as the various green symbols of the emAllie's/em squadrons rushed toward the red outline designating the enemy frigate. Operating from the bridge of a captured Imperial Star Destroyer took some getting used to but his past six months of operations aboard the emAllegiance /emhad made it feel almost normal. Bent over his console he zoomed out over the battle space. Behind the screen of onrushing green dots representing the X-wings and A-wings a loose semi-sphere of designators showed Captain Sigil's B-wings and Y-wings deploying a CAP around the big star destroyer. Seeing as this was a shoot and scoot mission, the slower fighters would be staying close to the emAllie's/em protective shadow rather than risk engagement with an unknown force. Still, Bekdh felt a rush of gratitude as he always did to the squadron on combat air patrol. It was hard not to feel personally looked after as one of the crewmen stationed aboard the big combat vessel and therefore biggest target. He tapped the icon for Zyperion Lead, Captain Flock's A-wing, and spoke into his mic. "Birdman, this is the Barn. We're claiming sectors 3, 5, and 7 for firing lanes. Sector 7 will be occupied for 30 seconds from mark and then cease to give you a window to close. Please acknowledge." All across the massive Star Destroyer gunnery crews were training their turbo lasers, ion cannons, and missile tubes to the chosen firing lanes. Two consoles down, the Fire Control Coordinator, Lieutenant Tandoh, waited for Bekdh to confirm the squad leaders' receipt of the gunnery plan. "Cable, same vectors. Acknowledge." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Both squadron leaders checked back almost instantly. "Roger, emAllie/em. 3, 5, and 7 with a thirty second break from mark. Zyp Lead acknowledges. We're on the perch." The Zyps often orbited "above" the plane of fire, out of the way and ready to pounce — but more than one pilot had been snuffed from existence by "friendly fire" because some bridge officer assumed something was obvious to pilots in the field. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Then, a burst of static announced Cable checking in, "HiFly Lead acknowledges." Bekdh turned and gave the Fire Control station a thumbs up. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Mind your lanes gentlebeings. Mark."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Massive waves of ruby darts, some as wide as a Y-wing from bow to stern, pulsed forward from the Rebel Star Destroyer. Bereft access to the higher quality gas used to power Imperial ships that gave the Empire's war machine its distinctive green coloring, the sheer scale of the bombardment was nonetheless intimidating. Bursting forth like a tide swelling forward and back, each salvo was punctuated by the golden trails of concussion missiles and scattered blue bolts of ion cannons. Almost indecipherable to the naked eye, thirty-six snubfighters wondered their way through carefully coordinated gaps in the firing lanes. Aboard the Imperial frigate emInsurmountable/em, computer sensors tracked what the naked eye of most of the galaxy's beings couldn't see and passed on firing solutions to the ship's gun crews. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie felt like he was riding the wave of incandescent light being thrown out behind and then ahead of him by his mothership. Surfing on an ocean of light. He knew he should appreciate the danger of the situation. Millions of joules of lethal energy thrummed by him, in both directions. But all he could do was smile. Beautiful. High Flight Lead's targeting data began scrolling across Auggie's computer. "Looks like we're going for the engines, Arty. No pursuers for us, eh?" Arty's reply was an increasingly solid tone, indicating the X-wing's target acquisition software seeking a lock. When the reticle turned red and Arty let loose a solid whistle, Cable's voice confirmed the lock. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Fire on my mark. Three, two, one. Mark." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Either side of Auggie's canopy flashed pink as the X-wing's dual mounted proton torpedo launchers spat their charges outward. Around him, eleven other pairs of torpedoes trailed out around him instantaneously. emJust beautifu/eml. Ahead of him a blast of beauty caressed High Flight Lead from existence./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh's earpiece exploded in a riot of confusion and noise. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Did you see that?" "HiFly Lead is hit! He's gone!" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""The Old Man is down, repeat HiFly Lead is down!" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Across the bridge murmurs cascaded through the crew pit as the panicked voices of the now decapitated X-wing squadron poured in. Above him, Captain Salaban called for order. "Flight! Settle that chatter, get them back on mission. It's Meego's squadron now. Make sure he knows that. Fire Control, tell me that wasn't one of ours." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Lieutenant Tandoh rose above the din, "No sir! Uh, he was in the right lane and we show our outgoing fire on track. Had to have been from the frigate. They were still closing. A lucky shot sir." This far out it should've been impossible for such a precise shot to tag a snubfighter rocketing along at speed. Salaban's voice was low. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Not lucky for us."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie blinked back tears and tucked in tight behind Corbyn. emIt/em emwas so fast/em, he thought. The explosion of Cable's ship had blossomed and seemingly sprinted behind Auggie's onrushing ship, lost to the rear and relevance in an eye blink. In the din of his mind he distantly heard Meego, High Flight Nine, trying to rally the squadron. His own voice sounded raw, he'd been the captain's XO for years. "High Flight, keep it together. We're still running the gauntlet and have a mission to do. Keep your heads in your cockpits. HiFly Two, join up with me and Ten. But after we're past the frigate. Do not maneuver to us while we're in the lane. Got it?" emSithspit/em, Auggie hadn't even thought of what it must be like for Jollie, Cable's wingman. emHe must've seen it up close. Maybe even taken some damage from debris/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Uh, roger nuh-, nuh-, uh, Lead. Ten and I join with you once we're past the frigateem./em" Auggie double checked his deflector settings — still double front — and brought up his targeting computer. Eez's voice burst into the conversation. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Lead, my astromech reports losing lock just as the torpedoes launched. Sir, I think we lost One's targeting data when he was hit." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"High Flight Five's report echoed through the emAllegiance's/em bridge like an explosion of its own. "Flight, is that right?" Salaban wore the expression of man begging a question he didn't really want the answer to. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh turned up to look at him. "Afraid so, Captain. The salvo is wild. They're reacquiring now." On Bekdh's sensor screen the red designator of the frigate began to maneuver. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The first pair of proton torpedoes — formerly of High Flight Lead — flashed past the emInsurmountable/em at a comfortable distance of half a klick. Soon twenty-two more followed harmlessly behind. As she rolled, her hanger bay doors retracted, their cargo delivered and away./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Corbyn's targeting data flooded into Auggie's system, relayed from his astromech to Arty. The updated targeting bracket settled on the Frigate's bridge. emHeadshot. Time to return the favor/em, Auggie thought bitterly. He swung his targeting reticle up to rest on the bridge. It began to flash first green, then yellow, with promise. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Down in the crew pit, Bekdh felt uneasy. He toggled quickly back and forth from the outgoing X-wing squadron to the emAllie/em and back again. What am I missing here? "Meego reports new lock and is firing, Sir." High Flight's XO had settled his squadron quickly and needed to get the launch off soon, Bekdh thought. They're going to overshoot. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""On my mark, HiFlys."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh unconsciously raised a hand without looking away from his screen. He needed to get Salaban's attention except he wasn't sure why. Something was wrong. But what?/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Three… Two…"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It was right in front of him. He just needed to see it. emWhere is it?/em/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""This is for Lead."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh felt like it was staring him in the face. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""... One. Mark."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Where are the shuttles?/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Firing!"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"—/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Two Galactic Standard hours earlier./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Cable motioned for the assembled pilots to settle down. As usual Flock, the emAllegiance's/em only Fosh pilot and Zyp Lead, sat perched toward the back among the uppermost seats in the bowl shaped auditorium. His green clad A-wing pilots sat gathered about him, feet up and combat harnesses hanging off their waists. The partial squadron of A-wings had only 6 members. Reinforcements of such ships were hard to come by and the pilots capable of — and willing to — master their highly sensitive controls were even rarer. Their flight suits were all tattered and patched, more worn than even the traditionally overused flight suits of Rebel pilots. Every A-wing pilot in Flock's impacted squad doubled as his ship's unofficial crew chief. Conducting repairs and keeping personalized settings refined just so, often to the chagrin and irritation of the ship's official crew chief. The mechanics in the hanger bay were only half joking when they said you couldn't look at an A-wing without permission. But Flock's Flyboys as they were sometimes known were an amicable lot. Necessarily tight with each other and right with the rest. Lacking the strength of a full squadron and the firepower of the fighter wing's other craft, the Zyps had embraced the hit and run tactics of the Rebel fleet. They often deployed as force recon or hung back in a fight, pouncing on ships Cable's X-wing jocks pulled out of position. Nobody begrudged Flock's chosen tactics. They may have flown opportunistically but it was true to the A-wing's strengths. And a Zyp could always be counted on to brush an enemy off your tail. Cable suspected they saw themselves much like nerf herding hounds, shepherding their slower counterparts and keeping a protective eye on the fighter wing as a whole. A wry smile crossed his face, emHiFly may be slower than their "zippy" A-wings but we're no cattle. The Y-wings on the other hand/em... But that was unkind. True. But unkind. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The high-pitched voice of Geronimo Lead, Saraeux Sigil, brought Cable guiltily back to the briefing. "Let's get a move on, you know Salaban wants to meet with us after this." The squeaky Chadra-Fan's voice never seemed congruent with the hard-hitting heavies Sigil flew and led. In cockpit, the typically gravely Rebel comm gear gave enough distortion to take the edge off. In person though, well, Cable was always careful not to let himself be caught smiling. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He called up the holoprojector. It showed the Allegiance in orbit above a formerly secret Rebel base. Secret, that was, until about ten days ago when one of the ops run out of it had failed to return home and an Imperial probe droid masquerading as an asteroid showed up instead. "No major updates from this morning. We expect three personnel shuttles and one cargo shuttle with their gear. Normally we'd hype them out and rendezvous with them elsewhere, but Intelligence wants them brought in from the cold asap so here we are. HiFly will fly cover with the G-men staying close to the barn in case of trouble. Zyps will be used as needed. Launch is at 1400. That's 0330 local time and in just over two hours from now. They're making a break for us as soon as we drop out of hyperspace so get to your fighters and run any last-minute checks once we wrap up here."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A red suited B-wing pilot with terribly green hair raised a hand, "Imp assets in the area? We're not far from the sector capital world." Sector capitals, according to Imperial doctrine, typically hosted at least two capital ships with one serving as the sector defense fleet's flagship in addition to the capital ship paired to the world itself. This allowed the sector defense fleet's commander leeway in traveling throughout his area of operations without having to pull a ship from its assigned world. It also made any world near the sector capital eligible for twice the opposition or quick reinforcement. The question was not ill advised and Cable nodded approvingly toward the bomber pilot. He spun out the hologram to a sector wide overview. "Intelligence says they're elsewhere with the "where" being too far away to respond. Where exactly "where" is they did not say." A chorus of groans and alien disgruntlement rolled through the briefing room. "I don't like it either but that's the chop. We know there are some smaller frigates in the area of unknown type. That's apparently part of what the cell here was attempting to uncover." He spread his arms wide to show he wasn't holding anything back. "If one pops up, we'll meet it with overwhelming force just to be safe. No surprises unless we bring them to the fight."/span/p
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p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"This wasn't the first exfil emAllie/em had run and the rest of the briefing wrapped up in the usual way of logistics and confirming the usual call signs. Afterwards, as the pilots broke ranks, Cable and Sigil headed to bridge, their baggy, oil-stained flight suits a sharp contrast to the crisp uniforms of bridge officers and crew. "Any idea what this is about?" Cable asked. Sigil grunted, creating a noise Cable associated more with a girl's sneeze than a combat veteran. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Beats me." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"As the two senior squadron leads, it wasn't unusual for Cable and Sigil to get briefings with the captain but having it so close to mission launch was somewhat out of the ordinary. As they neared the bridge, both pilots fell silent. Mentally running through the mission as they settled into the zone./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salaban stood on the command deck, awash in blue starlight. Unlike many capital ship captains, it was not his preference to stand at the center viewport during hyperspace jumps, framed in a tunnel of onrushing light as the emAllegiance /emmocked time and space on her way through hyperspace. No, he preferred to stand off to the portside and gaze out perpendicularly into the stream of stars seemingly rushing from his right to left. It reminded him that, cocooned as he was within his massive warship, events did not revolve around him so much as they happened with or without him. It was his job to simply play his /emAnd before a mission this was exactly the headspace he needed to be in. While a junior officer working his way up to his own command, he'd seen far too many commanders assume themselves the role of highest importance with devastating consequences – usually for those they led and swore to protect. So as he'd been promoted away from the sidelines and nooks of capital ship bridges and moved increasingly center-ward to where the captains and commanders were – "the seniority shuffle" as it was known to aspiring flag officers across navies of every faction in the galactic Civil War – he always took time to return to the periphery of his bridge. He found it settled him, humbled the pressure he bore as ship's captain, and helped him think clearly before committing those under his command to harm's way./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Turning away from the river of light streaming past the emAllegiance's/em port flank and the massive turbolasers array alongside the Imperial Star Destroyer's superstructure, Captain Salaban made his way to the crew pit below him. Down below him – only in terms of physical location, not worth or importance he reminded himself – were officers of a half dozen different species representing twice as many worlds. As he often did, he found himself naturally looking toward Lieutenant Portu at the Comms station. Or, more specifically, her curly gold hair. He'd always taken a quiet sort of comfort from her sunlit curls. They reminded him of his mother's hair. And his two older sisters' too. But mostly his mother's. He'd never told Portu – or anybody else for that matter – of course. It would have been inappropriate. Besides, he thought with a smile, commanding officers have so few places to find their own anxieties reassured. Every now and again though he'd catch her in his peripheral vision and for just a moment his heart would soar, thinking his mother or sisters were about to ambush him with a surprise hug as they often did when he returned home from university. He would always try not to give any sign of seeing them as he stepped through the door. Their brightly colored hair clashed against the durasteel walls of their tiny home and always gave them away. But they enjoyed surprising him and he enjoyed letting them think he was./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Of course, they never did surprise him up here on his command deck. Portu always revealed herself in the end and melancholy followed immediately after. But for just a moment the only women he'd ever truly loved were no longer free-floating molecules aboard an exploding refugee ship that hadn't answered some nameless TIE Fighter pilot's patrol challenge too slowly out in the Casz System twelve years ago. emMoons, has it really been twelve years already? /emSalaban smiled sadly to himself from his vantage point above Portu and his mother's curls, allowing himself one last moment of nostalgia with is family. Then he turned and headed to the bridge's conference room. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He could have used the more luxurious one a few levels below, but he liked being near the bridge and not having to worry about damaged turbolifts potentially keeping him from his command. Turning in, he nodded to the ensign placing pastries and refreshments in the corner and checked his chrono. Just in time and spotting the two squadron leaders just as much by their nonchalant gait as their colorful flight suits, he waved Cable and Sigil welcome. "I'm sorry to be pulling you away from your squads so close to launch, but this can't wait." Both men nodded their understand as he motioned for them to join him around the room's holodeck and called up a distant image of what appeared to be an Imperial Arbalestem-/emclass frigate. Salabanem /emcontinued, "We just received an update on what the cell we're exfiltrating was investigating. The Empire has been deploying more midsize ships in an attempt to respond more quickly to our usual hit and run tactics. For better or for worse for us, TRD is finally getting taken seriously it seems." The two squadron leaders grinned back at Salaban who couldn't help grinning in return. TRD – Trench Run Disease – was half Rebel pilot slang, half Rebel boast, and referred to the use of snubfighters to kill off larger capital ships. The addition of a emDeath Star /emto that list of "capital ships" by an up-and-coming Tatooine farm boy had elevated TRD from a mild inconvenience to potentially terminal condition for many Imperial Navy commanders over the years. "But it appears they're outfitting something new to some of these ships." Cable leaned forward; his interest piqued. As he did, Captain Salaban expanded the image, but the ship remained blurry. "This is the only confirmed image we have of such an outfitted ship. Note the extra antenna and dish outfitted on the port side hull. The intelligence gathering mission that didn't return managed to send this back base but that's all. Now it could be nothing," Salabanem /emcocked an eyebrow at his two squad leaders to show what he thought of that possibility, "but we need to be prepared for anything." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Sigil crossed his lanky arms and leaned back in his chair defiantly, "Why not give this to the squadrons? This is exactly the kind of bantha fodder we need to know about to do our jobs." Beside him, Cable nodded absentmindedly as he continued to study the hologram of the innocuous looking frigate./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salabanem /emsighed and sat down himself. "Look, Saraeux, I agree. But command just forwarded this to me and has marked it as for senior command only. I'm bending the rank chart a bit just to read you too stick jockeys in. Okay? Odds are it's not even relevant for today's hop."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"—/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"High Flight One's ship was a rapidly dissolving ball of gases and debris in Auggie's rear sensors. Ahead of him twenty-two angry proton torpedoes sped forward toward the frigate, cascades of lasers crisscrossing the space between them. In an eye blink they crossed the distance between them. emZzzzzzzzzz! /emA high-pitched squeal screamed into Auggie's ear over the comms, causing him to instinctively lift both hands from the stick and cover his ears despite the mix being embedded in the helmet where he couldn't reach. The X-wing dipped and rolled to port. The belly of High Flight Seven suddenly filled the canopy above him. It was close. Far too close. Too late he realized he wouldn't have time to reacquire the stick and maneuver, but he had to try. Fingers outstretched he nearly had it when the stick jerked hard to starboard, away from his clawing fingers. emWhat the hell?/em He railed internally at his chronically misfit ship. emYou decide to act up now/em? But then he was completing the roll and leveling out, a mechanical scream tapering off behind him. emYyyyyoooooowwwwwww/em! "Arty! You magnificent bastard! You really are the best droid in the fleet! Nice flying!" The stick slammed back into his hand as Arty righted the ship back into formation and Auggie got his bearings. All around him the X-wings of High Flight were in disarray. He saw High Flight Four swerving back into the lane, her movements overpowered and drunk with panic while above and to starboard Eleven drifted dangerously wide. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Snap it up Eleven, you're getting too close to the emAllie's/em firing lane!" Meego shouted into the comm. Auggie could see him rolling his X-wing to keep Eleven in view. The spiraling X-wing careened through the crisscrossing laser fire of their mothership and the frigate. Iridescent light flashed around the fighter's port side as a passing blast grazed shields. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Almost got it!" Auggie could hear Eleven's labored breathing over the comm as the Rodian pilot wrestled his ship toward the safety of High Flight's approved vector. "Almost got it!" Closer to Auggie Three Flight opened up to give the wayward pilot room to swerve in. He skidded in, engines flaring, and slotted into formation. "Got it!"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The first proton torpedo arced in from above, smashing into the nose just ahead of Eleven's cockpit and breaking the fighter in half. The strike foils and engines kicked up, the nose arching backwards toward them. Auggie had the briefest glimpse of an astromech's domed head launching forward before he was past. Behind him, Auggie's rear viewport lit up just as a flash of pink shot by overhead and High Flight Eight disappeared from the sensors. Garbled voices shouted over each other in the confusion. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Eleven's down!" "Torpedoes incoming!" "Are those ours?!" "Where's Four, did Four make it?" "I'm here!" And then Meego's voice cut through, his new designation as lead allowing him to override the squadrons tactical channel. "HiFly, go evasive! We have incoming torpedoes from the frigate!" Before Auggie could say it, he heard Meego over the fleet frequency. "emAllie/em! Cease fire! Cease fire! We need the lanes!" Below them, the frigate flashed past and, absorbing the last of the long-range fire and having taken no torpedo hits, jumped into hyperspace./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It was chaos aboard the Allegiance's command bridge. Salaban shouted into the din, "Fire Control, cease fire! Flight, what just happened?!" Bekdh balked at the console. High Flight 8 and 11 had just winked out in seconds of each other. Even as he watched Two and Three merged into one point, blinked, and disappeared. Bekdh stuttered and twisted in his seat to look up at Salaban. "Sir, I'm not sure. We just lost four from High Flight and... Sir, I can't find any of the Zyps. The A-wings aren't on our scopes." Crewmen turned to look at him, a growing sense of unease on the bridge. Their flummoxed faces seemed to ask emhow do you lose a half squadron of fighters?/em He desperately wanted to shout back, "I don't know!" Instead, he simply stared up dumbly. Salaban moved to stand by Bekdh's console and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Take a breath. I want a system wide situation report."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Before he could attempt an answer Portu jumped in from Comms. "Captain! We got a strange signal just before it all hit the fan. Some kind of jamming, I think. Whatever it was, it rerouted the torpedoes back to their fighters. Never seen anything like it." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"From Salaban's flummoxed expression, Bekdh could tell he'd never experienced it either. Flinching from what he knew had to be said, Bekdh regretfully added his voice to the confusion. "Sir? Did we ever hear from the shuttles?" All around him the voices in the command bridge fell silent, heads turning to Portu when no response came. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"For the first time, Captain Salaban wasn't eager to look down into the crew pit toward the Comms station. But he did. Below him, Portu seemed reluctant to answer but duty demanded it. As he watched, his mother's curls began shaking side to side silently in the negative, the way they did when his mother swore nothing would ever tear them apart back when he was scared of the dark. And Captain Salaban felt the darkness of twelve years past close in all around him once again. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Not just darkness. emDanger/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He spun around, urgency clawing at his heart, and turned to Bekdh. "Recall the fighters. Combat landings. We're leaving. emNow./em" Bekdh began to shout his understanding when suddenly the icons representing High Flight's seven remaining X-wings disappeared./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"This is a stand-alone story in the tradition of Michael Stackpole and Aaron Allston's "X-wing" series. I've always loved Star Wars, especially the WWII era inspired dogfighting. And while I'm of course a fan of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Obi-wan Kenobi, the Force, and the story of the Jedi, my favorite character has always been Wedge Antilles. First seen as Red Two, the X-wing pilot who famously blurts out, "look at the size of that thing!" as they begin their attack on the Death Star and later must pull out of the trench run after being hit by Vader, Wedge is just a decent person with no force abilities and only his skills as a pilot fighting to take on the Empire. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"I've always wanted to tell similar stories about the everyday combatants of the Galactic Civil War and this is my first stab at it. If I'm happy with it and it goes well, I'll see about trying to make it into an ongoing series or longer novel. Captain Salaban and the emAllegiance/em are actually characters introduced by Allston in "X-wing: Starfighters of Adumar," book 8 of the series. They're peripheral characters so I decided to flesh them out a bit here. Likewise, High Flight is the X-wing squadron assigned to the ship but no further information is provided. All other characters are my own. No history is given to the emAllegiance/em other than her being a captured emImperial Mark I/em Star Destroyer, presumably post-Endor./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Finally, this being my first attempt and first time using a site like this, I may re-issue this story with updates and tweeks. But for now, I wanted to put what I have out there to get some momentum going and hear from readers. Feedback is welcome and, most of all, I hope you enjoy. May the Force be with you! /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Reptar/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"- /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Fog of War/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie's S-foils weren't opening. Again. Eba Eschaton, High Flight Seven, smirked into his ears over the comms despite the gravity of the situation. "Trouble getting her to open up again, Auggie? I told you. Gently but firmly." Before he could respond, RT-80, slotted in behind him, blurted out a harsh noise over the frequency, cutting her off. emMost loyal droid in the fleet/em, Auggie thought with a smile. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Thanks, Arty." emArtoo-who?/em That had been Auggie's response whenever people commented that Arty's silver, blue, and white patterning resembled a certain famous astromech after the Luke Skywalker's famous attack on the Death Star. As far as he was concerned though, there was only Arty and every other astromech in the universe. No exceptions./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" Eba's voice wormed its way back into his ear. "Oh, now you've got your astromech fighting for you?" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie started to roll his eyes before realizing it took the S-foil control lever out of his field of vision, "Stuff it, Eez!" Inside the cramped cockpit of High Flight Six, Auggie begrudgingly slowed his frantic toggling of the lever and took a deep breath. emIf this works/em, he promised himself, emI'm flying into a black hole before I tell her/em. Holding it, he steadied his hand on the stick and, with more concentration than the lever deserved, gently but firmly toggled it into the strike position. A triumphant melody of chirps sounded from RT-80 and, to Auggie's either side, the T-65 X-wing extended its S-foils like a bird of prey. Auggie slumped back into his seat. He didn't know what god or force ghost decided to gift him with High Flight's most mechanically misbegotten snubfighter, but it was his. emHis/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Turning his attention to Two Flight, he settled into the right and slightly below his flight element's leader's starboard engines. As usual, Jak Corbyn, High Flight Five, hadn't commented on his wingman's fickle S-foils. He always trusted Auggie to work it out. Or speak up if he couldn't. And Auggie valued that trust more than a second set of deflector shields. He never felt more professional, more proud, than these moments before the battle, when he and the rest of Two Flight came together to meet the coming conflict together. He never felt more calm, more confident— Eez's taunting voice whispered into his ear through the helmet mounted mic: "You did it the way I told you. Didn't you?" Behind him, RT-80's domed head shook back and forth sadly. emWell/em, he thought, emat least I'll never get cocky. /em/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salabanem's /emvoice crackled over the battle frequency. "emAllegiance's/em sensors show the frigate rolling to port to shield her hanger bay. Prepare for fighters to launch while we're blind. Shuttles report ETA two mikes. All squadrons report in." Squadron commanders signaled their readiness across the battle space. There was Captain Sigil of Geronimo, a mixed squadron of B-wings and Y-wings, Captain Flock of Zyperion, a partial squadron of A-wings, and, finally, High Flight's very own Captain Cable. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Able Cable" as he was known had been flying snubfighters for almost as long as the Alliance had them. His calm demeanor always carried them through. "All right, HiFlys, listen up. emAllie/em is gonna hang back and collect the remaining shuttles. We're not looking to stick around so no going and picking a dedicated dance partner. Nothing's launched yet but if they do it's one pass for targets of opportunity prioritizing any dupes or squints. Once we're through it's a single volley of torps on the frigate and then we reassess. The Zyps will corral anybody who breaks through our lines and the Gee's stay close to the barn in case anybody else shows up late to the party. Do not engage the frigate on your own. Wait for the go ahead from your element leaders or else you might as well be spitting at it. Got it?" Up ahead, Cable's X-wing began rising relative to the frigate, repulsorlifts keeping the nose pointed at the frigate's rapidly expanding silhouette. Auggie and the rest of High Flight followed suit, clicking their mics for quick confirmation of his orders. To Auggie's ears it sounded like the chirping of evening insects back at home. Perhaps not the most intimidating battle cry but familiar and therefore comforting. With less than a minute to intercept Jak checked in with Two flight. "Deflectors double front. Keep your vectors clear of emAllie's/em firing lanes. Here we go." Auggie reached up and punched the overhead canopy once, twice. Behind him Arty's manipulator reached forward and could be dimly heard knocking back against the rear canopy. Their pre-battle ritual complete, Auggie committed his ship — their ship — to battle. Over the nose of his fighter the first of the enemy's emerald lasers began to reach out to greet them./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"On the bridge of the emAllegiance/em, Lieutenant Commander Cal Bekdh of Chandrilla and Captain Salaban's preferred Flight Control Coordinator of the three stationed aboard the Imperial-I class Star Destroyer watched as the various green symbols of the emAllie's/em squadrons rushed toward the red outline designating the enemy frigate. Operating from the bridge of a captured Imperial Star Destroyer took some getting used to but his past six months of operations aboard the emAllegiance /emhad made it feel almost normal. Bent over his console he zoomed out over the battle space. Behind the screen of onrushing green dots representing the X-wings and A-wings a loose semi-sphere of designators showed Captain Sigil's B-wings and Y-wings deploying a CAP around the big star destroyer. Seeing as this was a shoot and scoot mission, the slower fighters would be staying close to the emAllie's/em protective shadow rather than risk engagement with an unknown force. Still, Bekdh felt a rush of gratitude as he always did to the squadron on combat air patrol. It was hard not to feel personally looked after as one of the crewmen stationed aboard the big combat vessel and therefore biggest target. He tapped the icon for Zyperion Lead, Captain Flock's A-wing, and spoke into his mic. "Birdman, this is the Barn. We're claiming sectors 3, 5, and 7 for firing lanes. Sector 7 will be occupied for 30 seconds from mark and then cease to give you a window to close. Please acknowledge." All across the massive Star Destroyer gunnery crews were training their turbo lasers, ion cannons, and missile tubes to the chosen firing lanes. Two consoles down, the Fire Control Coordinator, Lieutenant Tandoh, waited for Bekdh to confirm the squad leaders' receipt of the gunnery plan. "Cable, same vectors. Acknowledge." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Both squadron leaders checked back almost instantly. "Roger, emAllie/em. 3, 5, and 7 with a thirty second break from mark. Zyp Lead acknowledges. We're on the perch." The Zyps often orbited "above" the plane of fire, out of the way and ready to pounce — but more than one pilot had been snuffed from existence by "friendly fire" because some bridge officer assumed something was obvious to pilots in the field. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Then, a burst of static announced Cable checking in, "HiFly Lead acknowledges." Bekdh turned and gave the Fire Control station a thumbs up. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Mind your lanes gentlebeings. Mark."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Massive waves of ruby darts, some as wide as a Y-wing from bow to stern, pulsed forward from the Rebel Star Destroyer. Bereft access to the higher quality gas used to power Imperial ships that gave the Empire's war machine its distinctive green coloring, the sheer scale of the bombardment was nonetheless intimidating. Bursting forth like a tide swelling forward and back, each salvo was punctuated by the golden trails of concussion missiles and scattered blue bolts of ion cannons. Almost indecipherable to the naked eye, thirty-six snubfighters wondered their way through carefully coordinated gaps in the firing lanes. Aboard the Imperial frigate emInsurmountable/em, computer sensors tracked what the naked eye of most of the galaxy's beings couldn't see and passed on firing solutions to the ship's gun crews. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie felt like he was riding the wave of incandescent light being thrown out behind and then ahead of him by his mothership. Surfing on an ocean of light. He knew he should appreciate the danger of the situation. Millions of joules of lethal energy thrummed by him, in both directions. But all he could do was smile. Beautiful. High Flight Lead's targeting data began scrolling across Auggie's computer. "Looks like we're going for the engines, Arty. No pursuers for us, eh?" Arty's reply was an increasingly solid tone, indicating the X-wing's target acquisition software seeking a lock. When the reticle turned red and Arty let loose a solid whistle, Cable's voice confirmed the lock. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Fire on my mark. Three, two, one. Mark." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Either side of Auggie's canopy flashed pink as the X-wing's dual mounted proton torpedo launchers spat their charges outward. Around him, eleven other pairs of torpedoes trailed out around him instantaneously. emJust beautifu/eml. Ahead of him a blast of beauty caressed High Flight Lead from existence./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh's earpiece exploded in a riot of confusion and noise. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Did you see that?" "HiFly Lead is hit! He's gone!" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""The Old Man is down, repeat HiFly Lead is down!" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Across the bridge murmurs cascaded through the crew pit as the panicked voices of the now decapitated X-wing squadron poured in. Above him, Captain Salaban called for order. "Flight! Settle that chatter, get them back on mission. It's Meego's squadron now. Make sure he knows that. Fire Control, tell me that wasn't one of ours." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Lieutenant Tandoh rose above the din, "No sir! Uh, he was in the right lane and we show our outgoing fire on track. Had to have been from the frigate. They were still closing. A lucky shot sir." This far out it should've been impossible for such a precise shot to tag a snubfighter rocketing along at speed. Salaban's voice was low. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Not lucky for us."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Auggie blinked back tears and tucked in tight behind Corbyn. emIt/em emwas so fast/em, he thought. The explosion of Cable's ship had blossomed and seemingly sprinted behind Auggie's onrushing ship, lost to the rear and relevance in an eye blink. In the din of his mind he distantly heard Meego, High Flight Nine, trying to rally the squadron. His own voice sounded raw, he'd been the captain's XO for years. "High Flight, keep it together. We're still running the gauntlet and have a mission to do. Keep your heads in your cockpits. HiFly Two, join up with me and Ten. But after we're past the frigate. Do not maneuver to us while we're in the lane. Got it?" emSithspit/em, Auggie hadn't even thought of what it must be like for Jollie, Cable's wingman. emHe must've seen it up close. Maybe even taken some damage from debris/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Uh, roger nuh-, nuh-, uh, Lead. Ten and I join with you once we're past the frigateem./em" Auggie double checked his deflector settings — still double front — and brought up his targeting computer. Eez's voice burst into the conversation. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Lead, my astromech reports losing lock just as the torpedoes launched. Sir, I think we lost One's targeting data when he was hit." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"High Flight Five's report echoed through the emAllegiance's/em bridge like an explosion of its own. "Flight, is that right?" Salaban wore the expression of man begging a question he didn't really want the answer to. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh turned up to look at him. "Afraid so, Captain. The salvo is wild. They're reacquiring now." On Bekdh's sensor screen the red designator of the frigate began to maneuver. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The first pair of proton torpedoes — formerly of High Flight Lead — flashed past the emInsurmountable/em at a comfortable distance of half a klick. Soon twenty-two more followed harmlessly behind. As she rolled, her hanger bay doors retracted, their cargo delivered and away./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Corbyn's targeting data flooded into Auggie's system, relayed from his astromech to Arty. The updated targeting bracket settled on the Frigate's bridge. emHeadshot. Time to return the favor/em, Auggie thought bitterly. He swung his targeting reticle up to rest on the bridge. It began to flash first green, then yellow, with promise. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Down in the crew pit, Bekdh felt uneasy. He toggled quickly back and forth from the outgoing X-wing squadron to the emAllie/em and back again. What am I missing here? "Meego reports new lock and is firing, Sir." High Flight's XO had settled his squadron quickly and needed to get the launch off soon, Bekdh thought. They're going to overshoot. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""On my mark, HiFlys."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh unconsciously raised a hand without looking away from his screen. He needed to get Salaban's attention except he wasn't sure why. Something was wrong. But what?/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Three… Two…"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It was right in front of him. He just needed to see it. emWhere is it?/em/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""This is for Lead."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Bekdh felt like it was staring him in the face. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""... One. Mark."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Where are the shuttles?/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Firing!"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"—/span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Two Galactic Standard hours earlier./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Cable motioned for the assembled pilots to settle down. As usual Flock, the emAllegiance's/em only Fosh pilot and Zyp Lead, sat perched toward the back among the uppermost seats in the bowl shaped auditorium. His green clad A-wing pilots sat gathered about him, feet up and combat harnesses hanging off their waists. The partial squadron of A-wings had only 6 members. Reinforcements of such ships were hard to come by and the pilots capable of — and willing to — master their highly sensitive controls were even rarer. Their flight suits were all tattered and patched, more worn than even the traditionally overused flight suits of Rebel pilots. Every A-wing pilot in Flock's impacted squad doubled as his ship's unofficial crew chief. Conducting repairs and keeping personalized settings refined just so, often to the chagrin and irritation of the ship's official crew chief. The mechanics in the hanger bay were only half joking when they said you couldn't look at an A-wing without permission. But Flock's Flyboys as they were sometimes known were an amicable lot. Necessarily tight with each other and right with the rest. Lacking the strength of a full squadron and the firepower of the fighter wing's other craft, the Zyps had embraced the hit and run tactics of the Rebel fleet. They often deployed as force recon or hung back in a fight, pouncing on ships Cable's X-wing jocks pulled out of position. Nobody begrudged Flock's chosen tactics. They may have flown opportunistically but it was true to the A-wing's strengths. And a Zyp could always be counted on to brush an enemy off your tail. Cable suspected they saw themselves much like nerf herding hounds, shepherding their slower counterparts and keeping a protective eye on the fighter wing as a whole. A wry smile crossed his face, emHiFly may be slower than their "zippy" A-wings but we're no cattle. The Y-wings on the other hand/em... But that was unkind. True. But unkind. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The high-pitched voice of Geronimo Lead, Saraeux Sigil, brought Cable guiltily back to the briefing. "Let's get a move on, you know Salaban wants to meet with us after this." The squeaky Chadra-Fan's voice never seemed congruent with the hard-hitting heavies Sigil flew and led. In cockpit, the typically gravely Rebel comm gear gave enough distortion to take the edge off. In person though, well, Cable was always careful not to let himself be caught smiling. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He called up the holoprojector. It showed the Allegiance in orbit above a formerly secret Rebel base. Secret, that was, until about ten days ago when one of the ops run out of it had failed to return home and an Imperial probe droid masquerading as an asteroid showed up instead. "No major updates from this morning. We expect three personnel shuttles and one cargo shuttle with their gear. Normally we'd hype them out and rendezvous with them elsewhere, but Intelligence wants them brought in from the cold asap so here we are. HiFly will fly cover with the G-men staying close to the barn in case of trouble. Zyps will be used as needed. Launch is at 1400. That's 0330 local time and in just over two hours from now. They're making a break for us as soon as we drop out of hyperspace so get to your fighters and run any last-minute checks once we wrap up here."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A red suited B-wing pilot with terribly green hair raised a hand, "Imp assets in the area? We're not far from the sector capital world." Sector capitals, according to Imperial doctrine, typically hosted at least two capital ships with one serving as the sector defense fleet's flagship in addition to the capital ship paired to the world itself. This allowed the sector defense fleet's commander leeway in traveling throughout his area of operations without having to pull a ship from its assigned world. It also made any world near the sector capital eligible for twice the opposition or quick reinforcement. The question was not ill advised and Cable nodded approvingly toward the bomber pilot. He spun out the hologram to a sector wide overview. "Intelligence says they're elsewhere with the "where" being too far away to respond. Where exactly "where" is they did not say." A chorus of groans and alien disgruntlement rolled through the briefing room. "I don't like it either but that's the chop. We know there are some smaller frigates in the area of unknown type. That's apparently part of what the cell here was attempting to uncover." He spread his arms wide to show he wasn't holding anything back. "If one pops up, we'll meet it with overwhelming force just to be safe. No surprises unless we bring them to the fight."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"This wasn't the first exfil emAllie/em had run and the rest of the briefing wrapped up in the usual way of logistics and confirming the usual call signs. Afterwards, as the pilots broke ranks, Cable and Sigil headed to bridge, their baggy, oil-stained flight suits a sharp contrast to the crisp uniforms of bridge officers and crew. "Any idea what this is about?" Cable asked. Sigil grunted, creating a noise Cable associated more with a girl's sneeze than a combat veteran. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Beats me." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"As the two senior squadron leads, it wasn't unusual for Cable and Sigil to get briefings with the captain but having it so close to mission launch was somewhat out of the ordinary. As they neared the bridge, both pilots fell silent. Mentally running through the mission as they settled into the zone./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salaban stood on the command deck, awash in blue starlight. Unlike many capital ship captains, it was not his preference to stand at the center viewport during hyperspace jumps, framed in a tunnel of onrushing light as the emAllegiance /emmocked time and space on her way through hyperspace. No, he preferred to stand off to the portside and gaze out perpendicularly into the stream of stars seemingly rushing from his right to left. It reminded him that, cocooned as he was within his massive warship, events did not revolve around him so much as they happened with or without him. It was his job to simply play his /emAnd before a mission this was exactly the headspace he needed to be in. While a junior officer working his way up to his own command, he'd seen far too many commanders assume themselves the role of highest importance with devastating consequences – usually for those they led and swore to protect. So as he'd been promoted away from the sidelines and nooks of capital ship bridges and moved increasingly center-ward to where the captains and commanders were – "the seniority shuffle" as it was known to aspiring flag officers across navies of every faction in the galactic Civil War – he always took time to return to the periphery of his bridge. He found it settled him, humbled the pressure he bore as ship's captain, and helped him think clearly before committing those under his command to harm's way./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Turning away from the river of light streaming past the emAllegiance's/em port flank and the massive turbolasers array alongside the Imperial Star Destroyer's superstructure, Captain Salaban made his way to the crew pit below him. Down below him – only in terms of physical location, not worth or importance he reminded himself – were officers of a half dozen different species representing twice as many worlds. As he often did, he found himself naturally looking toward Lieutenant Portu at the Comms station. Or, more specifically, her curly gold hair. He'd always taken a quiet sort of comfort from her sunlit curls. They reminded him of his mother's hair. And his two older sisters' too. But mostly his mother's. He'd never told Portu – or anybody else for that matter – of course. It would have been inappropriate. Besides, he thought with a smile, commanding officers have so few places to find their own anxieties reassured. Every now and again though he'd catch her in his peripheral vision and for just a moment his heart would soar, thinking his mother or sisters were about to ambush him with a surprise hug as they often did when he returned home from university. He would always try not to give any sign of seeing them as he stepped through the door. Their brightly colored hair clashed against the durasteel walls of their tiny home and always gave them away. But they enjoyed surprising him and he enjoyed letting them think he was./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Of course, they never did surprise him up here on his command deck. Portu always revealed herself in the end and melancholy followed immediately after. But for just a moment the only women he'd ever truly loved were no longer free-floating molecules aboard an exploding refugee ship that hadn't answered some nameless TIE Fighter pilot's patrol challenge too slowly out in the Casz System twelve years ago. emMoons, has it really been twelve years already? /emSalaban smiled sadly to himself from his vantage point above Portu and his mother's curls, allowing himself one last moment of nostalgia with is family. Then he turned and headed to the bridge's conference room. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He could have used the more luxurious one a few levels below, but he liked being near the bridge and not having to worry about damaged turbolifts potentially keeping him from his command. Turning in, he nodded to the ensign placing pastries and refreshments in the corner and checked his chrono. Just in time and spotting the two squadron leaders just as much by their nonchalant gait as their colorful flight suits, he waved Cable and Sigil welcome. "I'm sorry to be pulling you away from your squads so close to launch, but this can't wait." Both men nodded their understand as he motioned for them to join him around the room's holodeck and called up a distant image of what appeared to be an Imperial Arbalestem-/emclass frigate. Salabanem /emcontinued, "We just received an update on what the cell we're exfiltrating was investigating. The Empire has been deploying more midsize ships in an attempt to respond more quickly to our usual hit and run tactics. For better or for worse for us, TRD is finally getting taken seriously it seems." The two squadron leaders grinned back at Salaban who couldn't help grinning in return. TRD – Trench Run Disease – was half Rebel pilot slang, half Rebel boast, and referred to the use of snubfighters to kill off larger capital ships. The addition of a emDeath Star /emto that list of "capital ships" by an up-and-coming Tatooine farm boy had elevated TRD from a mild inconvenience to potentially terminal condition for many Imperial Navy commanders over the years. "But it appears they're outfitting something new to some of these ships." Cable leaned forward; his interest piqued. As he did, Captain Salaban expanded the image, but the ship remained blurry. "This is the only confirmed image we have of such an outfitted ship. Note the extra antenna and dish outfitted on the port side hull. The intelligence gathering mission that didn't return managed to send this back base but that's all. Now it could be nothing," Salabanem /emcocked an eyebrow at his two squad leaders to show what he thought of that possibility, "but we need to be prepared for anything." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Sigil crossed his lanky arms and leaned back in his chair defiantly, "Why not give this to the squadrons? This is exactly the kind of bantha fodder we need to know about to do our jobs." Beside him, Cable nodded absentmindedly as he continued to study the hologram of the innocuous looking frigate./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Captain Salabanem /emsighed and sat down himself. "Look, Saraeux, I agree. But command just forwarded this to me and has marked it as for senior command only. I'm bending the rank chart a bit just to read you too stick jockeys in. Okay? Odds are it's not even relevant for today's hop."/span/p
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p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"High Flight One's ship was a rapidly dissolving ball of gases and debris in Auggie's rear sensors. Ahead of him twenty-two angry proton torpedoes sped forward toward the frigate, cascades of lasers crisscrossing the space between them. In an eye blink they crossed the distance between them. emZzzzzzzzzz! /emA high-pitched squeal screamed into Auggie's ear over the comms, causing him to instinctively lift both hands from the stick and cover his ears despite the mix being embedded in the helmet where he couldn't reach. The X-wing dipped and rolled to port. The belly of High Flight Seven suddenly filled the canopy above him. It was close. Far too close. Too late he realized he wouldn't have time to reacquire the stick and maneuver, but he had to try. Fingers outstretched he nearly had it when the stick jerked hard to starboard, away from his clawing fingers. emWhat the hell?/em He railed internally at his chronically misfit ship. emYou decide to act up now/em? But then he was completing the roll and leveling out, a mechanical scream tapering off behind him. emYyyyyoooooowwwwwww/em! "Arty! You magnificent bastard! You really are the best droid in the fleet! Nice flying!" The stick slammed back into his hand as Arty righted the ship back into formation and Auggie got his bearings. All around him the X-wings of High Flight were in disarray. He saw High Flight Four swerving back into the lane, her movements overpowered and drunk with panic while above and to starboard Eleven drifted dangerously wide. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Snap it up Eleven, you're getting too close to the emAllie's/em firing lane!" Meego shouted into the comm. Auggie could see him rolling his X-wing to keep Eleven in view. The spiraling X-wing careened through the crisscrossing laser fire of their mothership and the frigate. Iridescent light flashed around the fighter's port side as a passing blast grazed shields. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Almost got it!" Auggie could hear Eleven's labored breathing over the comm as the Rodian pilot wrestled his ship toward the safety of High Flight's approved vector. "Almost got it!" Closer to Auggie Three Flight opened up to give the wayward pilot room to swerve in. He skidded in, engines flaring, and slotted into formation. "Got it!"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The first proton torpedo arced in from above, smashing into the nose just ahead of Eleven's cockpit and breaking the fighter in half. The strike foils and engines kicked up, the nose arching backwards toward them. Auggie had the briefest glimpse of an astromech's domed head launching forward before he was past. Behind him, Auggie's rear viewport lit up just as a flash of pink shot by overhead and High Flight Eight disappeared from the sensors. Garbled voices shouted over each other in the confusion. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Eleven's down!" "Torpedoes incoming!" "Are those ours?!" "Where's Four, did Four make it?" "I'm here!" And then Meego's voice cut through, his new designation as lead allowing him to override the squadrons tactical channel. "HiFly, go evasive! We have incoming torpedoes from the frigate!" Before Auggie could say it, he heard Meego over the fleet frequency. "emAllie/em! Cease fire! Cease fire! We need the lanes!" Below them, the frigate flashed past and, absorbing the last of the long-range fire and having taken no torpedo hits, jumped into hyperspace./span/p
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p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It was chaos aboard the Allegiance's command bridge. Salaban shouted into the din, "Fire Control, cease fire! Flight, what just happened?!" Bekdh balked at the console. High Flight 8 and 11 had just winked out in seconds of each other. Even as he watched Two and Three merged into one point, blinked, and disappeared. Bekdh stuttered and twisted in his seat to look up at Salaban. "Sir, I'm not sure. We just lost four from High Flight and... Sir, I can't find any of the Zyps. The A-wings aren't on our scopes." Crewmen turned to look at him, a growing sense of unease on the bridge. Their flummoxed faces seemed to ask emhow do you lose a half squadron of fighters?/em He desperately wanted to shout back, "I don't know!" Instead, he simply stared up dumbly. Salaban moved to stand by Bekdh's console and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Take a breath. I want a system wide situation report."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Before he could attempt an answer Portu jumped in from Comms. "Captain! We got a strange signal just before it all hit the fan. Some kind of jamming, I think. Whatever it was, it rerouted the torpedoes back to their fighters. Never seen anything like it." /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"From Salaban's flummoxed expression, Bekdh could tell he'd never experienced it either. Flinching from what he knew had to be said, Bekdh regretfully added his voice to the confusion. "Sir? Did we ever hear from the shuttles?" All around him the voices in the command bridge fell silent, heads turning to Portu when no response came. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"For the first time, Captain Salaban wasn't eager to look down into the crew pit toward the Comms station. But he did. Below him, Portu seemed reluctant to answer but duty demanded it. As he watched, his mother's curls began shaking side to side silently in the negative, the way they did when his mother swore nothing would ever tear them apart back when he was scared of the dark. And Captain Salaban felt the darkness of twelve years past close in all around him once again. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Not just darkness. emDanger/em. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He spun around, urgency clawing at his heart, and turned to Bekdh. "Recall the fighters. Combat landings. We're leaving. emNow./em" Bekdh began to shout his understanding when suddenly the icons representing High Flight's seven remaining X-wings disappeared./span/p