Chapter 15 - Flight of the Raptor
Jakku
Niima Outpost
Guilt struck sharply into Rey's heart as all around her the streets of Niima descended into warfare. It would have been foolish to assume that Finn's former platoon were the only Troopers in the vicinity, or that they hadn't called in backup the moment a Jedi had been identified. Barely seconds after they cleared Zuvio's office and were back on the street, they were already getting shot at. Red, blue and green blaster bolts were being traded from every possible direction as an ear splitting alarm blazed in the background.
Attention! the tired voice of Zuvio echoed from the intercom system distributed throughout the outpost, Attention! First Order Stormtroopers have entered the outpost! Stay in your homes an' arm yourselves! All militia, regroup at your rendezvous points an' prepare to engage the enemy!
The sound and instructions however were lost over the roar of battle. Stormtroopers were moving through the streets in fireteams of four, engaging in small street skirmishes and coordinating movement between teams as they slowly began pressing in on all sides. While some of the militia had managed to move out to begin shooting at them from whatever cover they could find, most of the shots were coming from the panicked hands of the outpost denizens themselves.
"Get down!" Finn shouted as he tackled Rey to the sandy floor. Just as he did, a firefight enraged above their heads. Shopkeepers and others on one side flipping tables and other pieces of cover, shooting wildly at the Stormtroopers; who were still a good street away.
"Who taught these people how to shoot!? They're likely to get us killed more than the troopers!" Finn cursed as more shooting passed over their heads. Out of the two, the Stormtroopers were by far the more accurate shooters. Though there were considerably more of the outpost denizens and militia, the Troopers had training and discipline. They provided accurate covering fire while their fellows slowly but surely advanced forward, dodging from cover to cover. Worse for some of the denizens, their cover only provided concealment, and once identified the Troopers tore them apart.
Bodies and blasted objects were falling all around them, and now the Troopers had spotted them. Just as Finn was drawing his weapon, Rey grabbed his arm and reached out the other. In an instant, the Force pulled them along a good twenty or so feet, tethered along by a stout pole. The moment they hit it, they got to their feet and started running. Rey had her saber out and Finn his blaster rifle, expecting trouble around each bend as they ducked and dived between the frantic fighting.
Then, just as they rounded another corner they ran into a fireteam bombing out a market cluster, blasting it apart with detonators and other explosives. The audio receptors in their helmets somehow had managed to pick up their footfalls from the much louder background noises, and they all spun around with their weapons drawn. With no time to think, Rey activated her saber and in split-seconds began defecting blaster fire. This time, however, Finn had closed in behind her, his own weapon ready. Much of his training had involved observing the history of the previous wars, especially the Clone Wars. As such, he was very familiar with the tactics developed between Clone Troopers and their Jedi Commanders.
To this end, when Rey presented an opening, Finn took it. As she deflected blaster fire, the bolts going away in random directions, Finn would rise and fire off a stun bolt. The armor absorbed some of the effects of the bolts, so it took two or three to do the trick. As the front row fell, the other two tried to disengage. Rey however was quicker on the draw, and used it as an opportunity to throw a telekinetic blast their way and send them flying.
No sooner than they did, more teams converged on their location. Someone with a heavy blaster opened up on them as they dived down an alleyway. Finn fired over his shoulder, keeping them back a few more seconds before they came after them again. Now they were running through homes, shops and dispensers, pushing people out of the way as they ran for all they were worth. Fortunately, the Troopers maintained trigger discipline and didn't try to shoot at them through the crowd, so it afforded them some time to stay ahead of them.
Rey tried desperately to keep her senses up, but the sea of fear all around her was practically choking her. People crying out in terror as their homes were torn apart by mindless, unending violence. So instead, she focused on what was ahead.
"Finn, the archway!" she pointed with her saber.
"Got it!" and began shooting at it until it began to crack and crumble. As it did, Rey grabbed Finn and rushed forward in a leap, zipping past the falling adobe as it crashed into the ground with a heavy billow of dust. Still, the two of them began pulling down more of the superstructure, or shooting them free, respectfully, until the street was completely blocked off.
"It won't hold them long," Finn said.
"Long enough. C'mon!"
Then they heard it. A loud shriek like a banshee in the night zooming overhead. Explosions were rocking in the background as the menacing form of a TIE Punisher began dropping its payload. Bombs by the dozens were reducing target zones to craters and rubble. Now, it turned around and was coming right at them!
"RUN!"
A pod opened, and micro-munitions of missiles began chasing the pair of them as they disappeared into a marketplace. The cover was barely meager, but the Punisher soon zoomed away, dropping a few more explosives before it disappeared from the battlefield.
"Punisher Blue to all ground forces, munitions are dry. I am making a supply run-"
"2-5 to 1-3, we are taking fire from the roof-"
"Alpha, keep your heads down! I'm making a-"
"This is 3-1, we've lost contact with objective! We need eyes on target! Over!"
"1-1, we are approaching from north. ETA, 2 mikes!"
From his commanding position within the control room of the Ravager, Hux's face contorted into a stony expression as his ears took into the blaring, overlapping comm. lines, and his eyes watched the overhead feed of the chaos on the ground. Multiple images of various feeds filtered around the holographic projector, focusing in on the more important actions. To most, it was disorienting. But to the Admiral, who had fought in ground and space engagements numbering in thousands of combatants, it was surprisingly calming.
"1-1, this is Ravager!" a coordinating deck officer called out on the feed, "Hold your position! We have a large number of contacts coming your way! 15 yards out and closing!"
"Punisher Red to Ravager, I am approaching the combat zone. ETA, thirty seconds. Requesting target package, over."
"This is 2-5! We are pinned down by militia! We cannot move!"
"Ravager, this is 1-3, I have lost contact with 1-4! I need feed confirmation, over!"
"3-1, 3-2, approach gamma 34 o' 1 and take control of the market, over!"
"Ravager, this is 2-1. We are approaching the hangar zone. Requesting any available assistance to take the objective, over!"
"This is 3-1! We've reacquired target! Requesting feed display on their movements!"
As a new overhead screen zoomed in on the western section of the outpost, the air suddenly chilled. Hux turned, and Kylo Ren entered the control room abruptly, stopped and stared right at the feed.
"Admiral, can you provide a clearer image on the targets?"
Hux bellowed an order, and a technician began zooming in on the battlefield, frame by frame until the feed was at a twenty foot magnification. Slowly, very slowly, Kylo approached the holographic table, his hands clasping the edges as his gaze locked onto a woman carry a saber pike and the traitor, FN-2187. Closing in fast was the four man fireteam 3-1, firing rounds at them while the two targets were waging a fighting retreat. FN-2187 was firing over his shoulder while the Jedi threw tables and other objects their way, both generally slowly the team down.
"3-1, this 3-2! We are approaching from your 9 o'clock! Ravager, we request feed on targets to coordinate with 3-1, over!"
"Roger, 3-2," an operator at the helm said, "feed is being-"
"Pull them back."
Everybody stopped and turned to stare at the Lord of Ren, who turned to Hux and commanded in a grave tone, "Admiral, pull your teams back."
"Son, we can handle a lone Jedi-"
"Not this one," he countered, his tone sharp, "if your men continue to chase them, she'll kill them eventually. Pull them back, now."
Hux stared long and hard into the obsidian visor of Kylo's helm, somehow seeing his eyes beneath them. Begrudgingly, he nodded and pointed to an operator.
"3-1, 3-2, disengage from target and maintain sight-line distance. Acknowledge, over!"
"Roger. Disengaging, over!"
As the Troopers slowed, the pair of them disappeared into a large market before coming out and approaching a large cylindrical building.
"Thank you, Admiral," Kylo said as he about-faced, "tell the flight crews to prepare my shuttle. I will deal with this personally."
However, before he even could get a foot past the blast-door, one of the flight personnel gestured over to the XO, who in turn gestured to the Admiral.
"Sir, we have an unauthorized takeoff in progress. Security teams are attempting to ground the craft."
Again? Hux thought. Before he could asked who, security imagery of the hangar bay revealed a TIE-Defender attempting to take off, but gravitational locking cables were preventing it from escaping. After the last time, the hangar crews had ensured no one could hijack another fighter craft.
"Phasma," Kylo said as he turned around and stood at the Admiral's shoulder to stare at the feed, "What is she doing?"
The Admiral smiled, "Her duty. Ensign, signal the Traffic Controllers to authorize her flight. It's time for her to go hunting."
She should have been on the ground. She had insisted on the matter, but the Admiral had pointed out that she was too close to the situation. That her judgement would be affected by her own personal motivations. Politely, she had argued that she was responsible for the actions of her Troopers. The Admiral quietly retorted that if she had to chase down every single trooper who misperformed their duty, then she wouldn't be able to perform her own. No, it was a task best given to the platoon commanders on the ground to bring in the traitor and his other compatriots.
There was truth in those words, Phasma knew. Of course, the Admiral was correct. He often was, and Phasma still owed the Old Man her life. But there was an unspoken truth between them, a secret kept buried for almost a decade by those involved. FN-2187 was not the first renegade Stormtrooper in their history, nor was he even the most severe.
A decade ago, rebellion on a much larger scale had nearly torn the First Order in half.
"Captain," the comm. in her flight helmet buzzed, "your flight has been authorized. The Admiral says 'Good hunting.'"
Phasma pulled a face and nodded to herself, "Thank you."
A decade ago, she had lost so many of her children. A decade ago, she'd lost a friend… a brother.
"Cardinal," she whispered, biting back reactionary tears as her hands gripped the controls with ice cold fingers. She would not allow history to repeat itself. Never.
She pushed the throttle down, the Defender roaring out of the hangar with subsonic speed. In seconds, she was heading towards the planet. A strange feeling came over her. A familiarity in her hands and her mind, which was suddenly paired with both guilt and joy.
It had been a very long time since she'd flown a fighter craft, but it felt almost like yesterday that she was operating with a squadron of commandos.
"Inferno," she whispered in reverence; nostalgic pains and joys coming to her mind in equal measure. Only the blaring info-screens and noises associated with them keeping her from falling into some nostalgic trance. No, she had a job to do. She shook away the memories, and focused with renewed concentration.
"Ground units, this is Captain Phasma. I am approaching the target area. Requesting update on combat stream, over."
It was time to hunt.
The bolt nearly took off Finn's head.
"Hey!" he shouted as he ducked behind cover, "It's just us!"
"Sorry!" Poe shouted back at them, "Whole lot of shooting out there, what's going on?"
Quick updates were made as they boarded the Raptor. Quickly, Poe slipped into the cockpit while Rey inserted the Flight Control Module. There was a sudden explosion as the door to the small docking bay was caved in and Stormtroopers started to swarm in.
"Finn, gunner position, now!" Poe shouted, "Rey, co-pilot, strap in. I'm taking us outta here!"
Normally, he would have taken a handful of minutes to perform a standard checklist, and maybe have Rey do a twice over the engine compartment just in case if it was going to fall off during takeoff. But now with crimson bolts pinging off his armor, he couldn't afford to be proper or fancy. Basics would have to do.
Poe began flicking switches and turning on the onboard power generators. As power flowed through the ship, The Raptor suddenly roared like an uncaged lion as it reverberated with gravitational pressure. Hull lamps and illuminators flared to life, casting red and orange glows against its faded green hull. The onboard anti-grav thrusters kicked into life, the wings flaring outward as with a roar, it lifted from the ground and turned about like a dragon ready engulf its prey in fire.
"Damn, this thing is sensitive!" Poe exclaimed in exasperation as he began working with the strange controls. It wasn't just a single joystick in the center of his control panel. It was a pair of them on either side of him for his two hands to hold, and even foot pedals down at the bottom. Poe had piloted almost every kind of fighter in the galaxy, and he called upon those experiences because quite frankly he had never flown something like this before.
The result was that even the slightest miscalculation in pressure caused the ship to veer left or right and scrap the sides of the stone superstructure, or go too high or low and crash into something else.
"Don't you dare hurt my baby!" Rey screamed at him, panting.
"Hey, tell your baby to work with me-whoa!"
Suddenly, his seat slid forward into the bubble cockpit until he had nothing but glass underneath his feet.
"Um, was it supposed to do that?"
"Yes! Now get us out of here before you crash us!"
"Hey, I don't crash ships! From what I heard, you do!"
"One more word and I will spear you through this seat!"
"Yeah, and you'll have to fly this by yourself-gah!" now the Stormtroopers were shooting at the cockpit itself. The armor glass was holding, but if they got something heavier, they would be in trouble.
"Rey, shields!"
"Got it!"
Quickly, she started booting up internal systems through an automatic looping frequency. Weapons, shielding, automated sensors, even air conditioning. Although the latter only spat a fine spray of red sand everywhere. The ship seemed to growl at that, and Rey stroked its metal hide comfortingly.
"Easy, girl. Easy."
Across the way, Finn was running through the hallways, grabbing onto the sides as the ship seemed to rock and croon like a drunken vagabond on a high moon. He could feel the sudden sharp vibrations as the ship started running into things and things were shooting at them.
"Um, Poe? What are you doing?" he called up.
"I'm improvising! Gimme a break!"
Finn shook his head, and moved down to where the underbelly gunner position was. However, the hatch was magnetically sealed.
"Rey, gun door!" and with that, the hatch hissed open and a ladder descended from above. Quickly, he climbed down and strapped himself in. Lights flickered on as the bubble platted turret was still enclosed in the ship. Then a warning red light came on and the hatch suddenly sealed him in with the hiss of hydraulics. Pressure suddenly changed and for a moment, Finn felt dizzy.
However, this did not concern him. Although not a fighter jockey, he could guess that the sealed bubble turret possessed its own internal gravity. That much was confirmed when his seat turned him upside down, but he didn't feel any different. No blood rushing through his head. Just a normal displacency. A moment after this, the metal belly of the craft seperated, and the turret slid through into daylight and into an array of fire.
"Finn, get these bucketheads off my back!" Poe's voiced echoed from a headset which he quickly put on. Gun controls sprang forward, and fortunately these looked like they'd been taken straight from a TIE variant. A pair of laser cannons unfolded from in front of him, and now he had his own kin in his gunsights. Finn grumbled darkly. He had swore he would not kill his own, and now fate or the Force or whatever was testing that promise.
Still, he couldn't let them shoot them down, and with several fireteams now bringing over heavy weapons, he went into action. He aimed above them, and began firing into the docking bay's stone superstructure itself. Stone, dirt and blasted metal showered all around them in fine sprays, forcing the Troopers either back or down into cover. However, the Raptor did not make this easy as Poe struggled with highly sensitive controls, forcing Finn constantly swivel and turn just to keep a proper sight line as the Raptor bucked and josted all over the place.
At the cockpit, alarms rang out every few seconds, and Rey more than once had to hop out of her seat to grab an extinguisher when something was a getting too hot for her taste, or a tightener when steam shot out of some vent. Ahead, Poe was cursing like a madman as he had to learn to balance simple movements with the most precise of hand-gestures.
"How the blazes did you folks fly this thing!?"
"Very carefully."
"Yeah, real funny."
"Guys!" Finn called through the comm.'s, "We got company in bound! I'm not going to be able to keep them back much longer!"
Poe shook his head, and a tight smile crossed his exasperated face.
"Blast it. You wanna learn how to swim, jump in."
"What?" but before Rey could ask further, a great surge of G-force rocked her right back into her seat as Poe took them up with blinding acceleration. The Raptor ripped right through the canopy cover, and with wings spread wide, it roared across the windswept and bombed out battlefield with a loud screech.
"Finally, some elbow room," Poe chuckled as he took the craft one way and then the next, taking the time necessary to at least have a grasp of how to meanuever with the complicated controls. He flew one way and the next, the sheer pressure of the craft engines sending everything not bolted down flying in their wake. He passed by over the outpost once, and then twice. On the second flight, all three of the Repator's crew got a good look at the situation deteriorating on the ground.
A group of militia had been caught, forced out in the open and now surrounded by advancing Stormtroopers. Rey's heart felt torn asunder as she watched them being gunned down by faceless killers in a desperate struggle. She'd known many of them, some better than others. And at the center was her former boss, who was now slugging it out amid a sea of choking corpses. Soon enough, he was the last one standing.
Zuvio was screaming. Rey could feel this. His pain and anger all molded together into one long cacophony as he took bolt after bolt but refused to drop. He traded rounds amid his curses and screams, dropping a Trooper, followed by another. Then he was struck in the chest and he fell to his knees, his pain almost driving him mad.
Then he started laughing.
"I'm still here, huh? I'm still kneelin'! That all you got, You bloody wannabes!?" then he began cursing the Troopers in a dozen different tongues. The Raptor loomed overhead in that moment, and he smiled up at the avian like craft.
"Get on and get, girl," Rey heard him say before a Trooper walked up behind him and summarily execute him with his sidearm. She felt the impact, the fierce fire burning through the back of her mind, and the sudden chillness of death. Her body slackened, her eyes widened, her skin paled like a ghost. Poe saw every detail, and he snarled.
"Finn, forgive me, buddy," he shouted into his mike, "but this's gone on enough!"
Weapon systems went online. With ice cold hands, Poe targeted the assembled platoon below, and opened fire. Laser cannons and repeaters on either side of the cockpit went hot, and within milliseconds, hundreds of cyclic crimson bolts rained from the heavens and tore into the Troopers. Many shot straight through, others blasted them away into fine char. Some managed to retreat back into the marketplace, taking cover where they could. Poe wasn't finished, however, and zoomed after them. Bolts tore through the adobe and scrap metal housing, and Poe launched missiles at the stronger of the buildings just for good measure, reducing them to blasted cinder.
Then alarms went off, and before he knew it, they were hit. A missile struck them on the aft side, the resulting orange explosion throwing them forward hundreds of yards before the ships onboard stabilizers brought them back into focus.
"Poe, bombers incoming!" Finn shouted up at them, and Poe gritted his teeth. With a swiveling gesture, the Raptor swung round to face its attackers. A pair of TIE Punishers were coming at him, their weapon systems primed. In the split second he had, Poe checked his shields. He was down to 78%, and the onboard computer reported no substantial damage caused.
"Must've hit us with a concussive," Poe muttered, "weren't expecting me to be fighting back," he smiled inwardly, "okay, let's play."
With this, he slammed his controls forward, and the Raptor took off like a rocket. He turned his right hand up and his left hand down, causing the craft to start whirling like a cyclone as he opened up with the laser cannons. The Punishers dived left and right as the Raptor tore past them, their own shields fluttering from the sudden exchange. However, they quickly zipped back around and began firing a clutter of missiles. Poe immediately brought his hands forward and down, causing the nose to dive and within seconds he was flying close to the ground.
Behind him, Rey started flipping switches before a green light came on.
"Hold off on the flares," Poe said, "let them get close."
"How close?" she asked, struggling to keep the panic out of her voice. Behind them, the missiles approached with frightening speed, charging towards them like dragonflies.
"Wait for it… wait for it."
Fifty meters and closing, the onboard computer displayed, thirty meters and-
"NOW!" and with that, he swung the controls upward, his feet pedals firing off afterburners and sending The Raptor flying up and over the flight trail of the missiles. Flares sprouted from everywhere and rained down either in front or right in the midst of the incoming missiles. When one exploded, the rest followed suit, and The Raptor zoomed through the resulting fireball.
"My turn," and with that, he unclipped the safety pins on his controls. Missiles exploded from their tubes, zipping straight for the bombers even as Poe went between them at mach speed. The missiles struck home, the bombers not having the time to maneuver out of the way. Their shields buckled, flared and failed, and the two crippled bombers went down in a billow of smoke. Still, they'd been low enough to the ground that the impacts didn't completely rip the ships apart. The landed in the midst of the outpost, tearing long trails through the buildings and city streets before coming to rest towards the middle of the town.
Poe laughed, more relieved than anything else. Sweat poured down his temple in droves, but at least he wasn't bleeding. Still he couldn't resist turning in his seat and grinning over at Rey.
"This is one hellova ship! I'm keeping it!"
"Oh sure, how about you give me back ten years of my life while you're at it," she shook her head at him, panting as she did.
"Well, I can't give you years, but I'll think of someth-"
Suddenly, an emerald explosion erupted on top of them, and the Raptor swung towards the ground.
"No no no!" Poe screamed as he yanked the controls up and tried to pull the craft upward. The Raptor collided with the ground, nicking the wings and superstructure as it fought gravity all the way up. Sliding across the sand dunes for several seconds, Poe finally managed to bring them airborne again.
"What the hell just hit us!?" Rey cried out as Poe whipped his head around the cockpit.
"I can't see 'em! Where is he!?"
"Behind us!" Finn called out, "They're behind-"
A second and third explosion rocked the craft and Poe had to fight to keep them level. A loud screech rang out and a TIE Defender zoomed ahead and then up. A grave voice of a woman came on their intercom.
"This is Captain Phasma of the First Order. Ground your vessel now, or I will do it for you."
Warning signs came up as a half dozen bogies suddenly appeared on his scanner.
"Oh you gotta be kidding me!" Poe cursed as he dove straight for the ground, the squadron of the TIE Strikers closing in fast.
In the Admirals life, he had known many fine and outstanding fighter pilots on both sides of the conflict. He'd even awarded a medal or two to most daredevil of the bunch. A part of him even wished he'd become a fighter pilot rather than the Captain of a Star Destroyer, but that was idle fantasy. Still, it did not diminish his fascination with the almost romantic bravery of dogfighting. It was like a gentleman's game in a way; a test of skill between two opponents on equal terms with the air as their battlefield.
For this, he watched the bird's eye display with the keenest fascination; settling into his commanding chair with his hands resting on his chin. Even the chilling presence of Kylo Ren at his shoulder wasn't enough to dim his spirits as he took in the battle with every possible detail. Naturally, the pilot Dameron would never have surrendered. Not certainly after he'd skillfully disabled the two TIE Punishers, and had lain waste to the forces on the ground in a rather cold fashion. The Grand Admiral shook his head.
It really was a pity that this Poe Dameron had not been born a Courscanti, and lived to fight at his side. He hated to kill such good men, but it was necessary, and the Admiral, just like the good Captain, would follow their duty to the letter.
"I repeat," the Captain growled over the comm., her voice heavy in the action that was about to come as the squadron again strafed the strange looking ship with warning shots, "ground your vessel or I will do it for you. This is your final warning."
Dameron's response was expected, and the Admiral would have been disappointed if it hadn't been so.
"Come and try, ma'am."
And with that, Dameron plunged his ship into a nosedive aimed straight for the ground. The Captain followed in his wake, firing bolts off his bow as the Strikers moved to the flanks like attacking hounds. Dameron swung left and right, crimson bolts coming out from under the ship in response. The attacks were rather clumsy, and clearly not Dameron's work. He doubted it could be the Jedi, and that left only the traitor, FN-2187. Still, traitor or no, it was a telling of the adaptability of his soldiery, and perhaps they would learn something from this experience.
The Strikers were now closing in, blasting bolts off and around the hull of ship. On command, they could ram the fugitives and bring them down, but that risked destroying any traces of the map. He admitted it presented a tactical disadvantage, and in a few moments, Dameron took full advantage of it. As the Strikers closed in, Dameron did the unexpected. He swung his vessel sideways, the belly of the vessel pointed to the right flanking Strikers.
Within seconds, the bow gun position tracked and successful brought down first the lead Striker, and then the second. The Strikers were travelling so close together that when the second one exploded, its debris collided with the third and tore it in half.
"Very good, Poe Dameron," the Admiral smiled, "now, what will you do next?"
His answer came when he swung left violently, cutting off the lead Striker and swiping it with his shielded wing. Part of the Strikers wing was seared clean through, and partially dragged it along until it crashed right into a high rising sand dune.
"Very good," the Admiral repeated. Already, they were learning something from this engagement, and doubtless the analyst would come to his conclusion that the programming of their droid ships were too… simple. Too predictable. Admiral was of the old era when men alone were at the helm of such craft, and as such disliked using these droids. It felt too… dispersonal, but he was nothing if not pragmatic. The First Order was hopelessly outnumbered and couldn't afford to lose good pilots.
Speaking of which, Dameron had now entered what the natives called the Graveyard of Giants. The Admiral frowned. Watching the feed, he felt a sudden cold. He knew many of the ships buried deep in these red sands, and their crews. Though not there in the person, the name was quite fitting as he felt the souls of those under his command reach out for him. The sudden report of activity quickly removed him from his trance, and he stared at the action with renewed interest.
Dameron had indeed flown into the Graveyard, and was using the fallen ships as cover. He dived between hulls and skeletons of corvettes and frigates, zipping back forth from the split remains of cruisers before diving up and down between dune and deckplatting. While the Strikers continued to doggedly chase Dameron through the tangled maze of metal, the good Captain had long since taken to perching on the outskirts, waiting for her opportunity.
"Good girl," the Admiral said, "you haven't lost your touch."
Now free of pursuit from actually intelligible hunters, Dameron and his crew were quick to dispatch the remaining two Strikers. First, he dove between a long, overhanging trench that forced the Strikers to split apart at the outskirts. As such, they came out ahead of Dameron, who in turn came out behind them. Within moments, he blasted the Striker on the right, and now was chasing the one on the left. The Striker took evasive action, diving and dipping, and all Dameron had to do was just pull back and wait.
In another moment, the Striker erupted in a massive fireball.
"Impressive," the Admiral said with a smile. Truly, if it had not been rather unbecoming, he would clap. Still, the fight wasn't over, and just as the blasted through the remains of the droid fighter, Captain Phasma struck. She moved in right ontop of them rather than behind as the Strikers had done, raining down fire from close range to where Dameron's gunner could not retaliate easily. Over and over again, Dameron evaded and zipped across the battlefield, desperately trying to disengage. Once, he even attempted to pull back on his throttle and come up behind the Captain, but she merely did the same and stayed right behind him.
Still, it was not long before Dameron finally managed to come up behind the Captain. He swung hard to the left, no doubt putting his dampeners to their fullest test. The Captain therefore was forced to overshoot him in a long arc, trying desperately to catch up with him. However, like a swooping hawk, Dameron descended upon her from the side, and engaged her with a combination of laser fire and missile barrages. Rather than attempting to outpace Dameron, Phasma slowed her inertia, and began bobbing side to side to use the debris around them as cover. One by one, the missiles struck these pieces of cover, and those that didn't she managed to hold off using flare reserve.
Now they were at it again. It was almost like a dance. The pair of them flew aside and forth, zipping over and under the other in their attempts to gain good positioning. Still, Dameron made good effort to stay on her tail, taking his turn to pelt her. Then the Captain did something unexpected. Every TIE variant was equipped with additional cargo held in the underslung hold, such as power cells and the like, and they could be remotely ejected. Phasma slowed till she was on the verge of crashing right into Dameron, and did just that.
The cargo sprayed out and struck Dameron's vessel at almost point black range. Though he doubted they would have done much, it was nonetheless stunning, and provided her with the opening to pull back, zip under Dameron and come up behind him. There, she unleashed a barrage of missiles that struck home and sent Dameron sprawling. Smoke appeared on the side of the ship; the shields flickering before come back up. Still, it was doubtful they could take much more.
His guess was correct as Dameron flew upward at a hard 85 degree angle, no doubt attempting to break atmosphere. Phasma pursued.
"Captain," Kylo Ren suddenly said, his message being relayed to her directly via the comm. feed, "there is a weakness in the ship's superstructure. With the shields weakened, you should be able to hit it with a precise Ion Torpedo. It will disable their engines and bring the ship down, over."
"Understood, my lord. Send me the target package, over."
It had happened without warning. The targeting computer blared and screamed as yet another missile came at them. Poe believed that the ship's shields would hold just a little longer, but then to his horror realized what was coming at them. He tried to swerve away, but it was far too late. The torpedo struck, and everything flared with electricity before going dead.
"She's fried us," Poe said in horror as the Raptor flew another dozen or so feet, was held momentarily in the air, and then started falling back down to earth. The vessel spun nosewise, and by Poe's own guess, they would hit the ground in less than twenty seconds.
"Rey…" he began to say, but she was already out of her seat. The Raptor turned longways, nose pointed up to the sky. Rey crossed her arms over her chest and stood over the back of her chair. She took a moment to gauge the distance and her target, and then she leapt down.
"BB!" she called, and there was the droid down below. As she continued to fall down the hallways, BB-8 zoomed out to catch her. She held out her hands, and in a moment caught the top of the droid by his head. BB-8 locked his head into place, giving her the purchase she needed to perform a mid-air somersault. She came round, spun, and then flew down one of the passage ways. With the Force, she cushioned her landing, but the impact on the wall was still jarring.
15 seconds, she thought and gritted her teeth. She rolled down the wall and into the engine room. There, she continued to roll until she spotted an electrical line and grabbed at it. With the Force, she called to hand a few select tools, and kicked off the wall towards the main engine compartment. She landed with a thud, and there saw the main fuseline of the ship's power core.
12 seconds, she was in the fuseline. Everything was fried and burning. She plucked an extinguisher and cooled off the hotter parts. She worked through the melted coils, trying to find the main line.
"Rey!" she heard Poe call her way. She found it. The main connect line it was attached to was also fried, but the connecter itself was not and had prevented the main line from being damaged too much.
8 seconds, she would need to connect it to another line. Something to get power back online. She fished around and found the auxiliary line. Normally, she would switch over remotely, but that was impossible at this point. With gritted teeth, she plucked a switchblade between the connector, and pulled the mainline away.
6 seconds, the auxiliary line was fighting her. The ship was tumbling over and over, and the line was flying of her reach.
"REY!" Poe was now screaming. She pulled the line to her with the Force.
4 seconds, with a grunt, she forced the two lines together. The connecter didn't fit right. She had to pull them apart again.
3 seconds, she breathed, and then pushed the connectors smoothly together. Electricity flared out as auxiliary power kicked.
"NOW!" she screamed back, and Poe was on it. With a second to spare, and the ground a mere twenty feet away, Poe pulled hard on his throttle. The Raptor swerved up, but not before skidding the ground and leaving a long scar along the ships bow. Still, she could handle it, and Poe once again flew upwards with all the speed he could manage. He checked his instruments, and his heart sank. His shields were gone.
"Poe," Finn called in his comm., "we can't try flying out of here with the Captain on our tail. She'll just shoot us down again."
Poe bit his lip and cursed. He was right. They would need to either shake her, or better yet, disable her. But how?
"Rey, get up here. I've got a pl-"
Suddenly, an emerald shot across their bow and made their ship buckle.
"Report!" Poe called into his mike, "Is everybody okay!?"
"I'm alright!" Rey called as she came back into the cockpit with BB-8 in tow, "felt like it came from down below!"
"Finn, are you okay!?"
There was a momentary silence before Finn replied, "She hit the turret. I'm stuck in a forward facing position. I can't move."
"Not a problem, buddy," Poe answered with a grin, "I gotta plan."
"Plan?" Rey asked, confused, "What plan?"
"That plan," he nodded ahead. When Rey turned to look, her mouth dropped. It was The Finalizer, and Poe was orbiting in tandem with its opening through the middle of the ship.
"No," Rey shook her head desperately.
"Yes," Poe grinned wolfishly.
"No!"
"YES!" and with that pushed the throttle to the metal. The Raptor took off like a thunderbolt, slipping straight through the fetal wound of the Finalizer. The walls quickly closed in around them as they flew through engine compartments, flight decks and service centers. More than once, Poe jerked a little too hard on the controls and the Raptor would scrap off the sides of the cramped scrap metal. The ship growled at this, and Poe soothed softly, "Just gimme a little more, gal. Just a little more."
"She's behind us!" Finn called out, and soon enough they were taking fire from their rear. Phasma to her credit was faring no better than Poe in these close quarters, but her shields compensated the matter.
"What are you trying to do, Dameron?" she mused softly as she continued chasing them. The Raptor now flew past the hangar bays, and the pathway opened up. Poe started flying under beams and over fusion lines, diving and dodging the incoming blaster fire. Left and right, top and bottom he swung. Then the path narrowed again.
"Oh no," but Rey put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Poe saw… felt, something. An instinct not his own. Then he understood, and he smiled.
"Enough games," Phasma muttered as she activated the last of her missiles. The computer blared out the lockon, but Poe didn't care. A light shined up ahead, and he swung hard to the left. They were out in the open again, the desert below them, and Poe moved skyward again. Like a bat out of hell, Phasma was behind them, but she had to swing wide. Too wide.
Poe flew up aways… then he shut off his engine. The ship floated in mid air again before it tumbled down belly up. Phasma was right above them, suspended for a precious few seconds. Finn didn't need to be told. His sight alignment came, her wing in view, and he fired. The laser blast pierced the TIE Defenders wing clean in half, searing it away. Before Phasma could prevent it, her thrusters went dead and she was falling.
"Excellent shot!"
Poe flicked on his engines again, the thrusters kicking back to life and he took off for the air at Mach Speed. A sonic boom occured as the ship broke the sound barrier, and in a few more seconds he was clearing atmo. Another half minute, and he was clear.
"Poe?"
Poe's eyes widened. His mother's face was staring at him from just a few feet away. She was weary, grief stricken, her eyes orbs of pure pain as her flesh turned brittle as paper. She reached out to him, whispering softly, "Please… don't go."
"Mom?" he muttered.
"Poe… please… come back to me."
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rey was looking intently at him, her eyes narrowed. She extended a hand, her own eyes closing. Her mind extended forth into the void, Poe beside her. All around them was a sea of darkness like no other.
"Wha-" and then he saw her. His mother. Moments before she crumbled away to the rotting disease that had taken her life. But she felt… different. Wrong. Cold.
"That is not your mother," Rey said.
"...I know," Poe replied, and before him his mother evaporated into a long, menacing shadow.
You shall not escape, Poe Dameron! The shadow screeched, and its ice cold hands leapt for him, You shall not escape me!
Poe's eyes snapped opened.
"BB-8, jump now!" he screamed as BB-8 put in the coordinates. The Star Destroyer was coming fast. Hundreds of fighter craft were approaching, screaming for their names. And then, space folded around them. White shards of glass appeared on either side of them, and the ship was flung through hyperspace. The fold in space closed behind them, and they were gone.
Grand Admiral Hux grumbled at the feed, halfway impressed and halfway despondent.
"What happened?" he asked the Lord of Ren, who starred wordlessly at the viewport where their prize had just been moments ago.
"She helped him see through my vision."
"Who?"
"...the girl," he sighed. Before the Admiral could pry further, he about-faced and disappeared down the hallway like a black velvet spectre in night. The Admiral sighed wearily.
"Do we have an update on the Captain?"
"Yes sir," his XO, Captain Moden Canady, replied, "she ejected out before her vessel crashed."
"Very well, dispatch a search and recovery team. And begin calculating their possible trajectory route."
"Sir…" Canady began, looking out the window as he did, "no doubt they're heading for New Republic space. We will not be able to follow them without violating the Concordance."
"Any more than we already have. Get me the Crimson Corsairs, Captain."
Reluctantly, the senior officer nodded, "Aye aye, sir."
As he did this, he collapsed into his chair, his weary brow resting on his fingers.
"This has and gotten out of hand. And now? We put our fates in the hands of filthy pirates. Stars help us all."
"They do have their uses, Sir," Canady replied, and Hux nodded.
"Yes… yes, I suppose they do."