Jess Pava would contend that the Millennium Falcon was poorly named, at least from her perspective. That perspective was still very much rooted in a fighter cockpit, and through that prism her kind, the fighters… they were the real falcons, the small and nimble hunting hawks. Beside them, the Millennium Falcon was an eagle or a ptyranodon or some other large airborne predator. It was absurdly quick for its size and bulk, sure, but these days its main attributes were the great cannons which it mounted – unless you counted the crew.
And they were a hell of a crew. Jess saw one shot nail three TIEs at once – that must have been Finn, whose marksmanship still astounded her. Rey and Chewbacca guided their ship deftly through the maelstrom, almost as gracefully as the fighters around it despite its heft. Rose would be on the other turret, also accounting for plenty of enemy craft. Heck, add R2-D2 to that roster; cajoling, flattering and very occasionally bullying the three droid brains that formed the ship's computer into cooperation.
Poe led the strike force in Black One, but it was the Falcon which formed its heart.
Jess's place was out on the flank. Black and Blue Squadrons made up the two edges of the speartip formation. They'd sprung from the battleship Aldera, hugging the hulls of cruisers and escorts for cover before streaking out into the open void. Below, the night side of Huenamak was dark blue, broken by the amber glow of cities.
Ahead lay their targets – three Resurgence-class Star Destroyers and a hulking goliath, a Dominion-class battleship. They were trading heavy blows with the Huenamak fleet, trying to force them from the space above the planetary capital.
And around them, the fighters and bombers swarmed. Huenamak craft, all curved shapes skinned in silver and jade, vied fiercely with the dark forms of TIE Fighters and Bombers.
Jess' breath whistled between her teeth, as she tried to ease it into a steady rhythm. BA-9 warbled in her ears, pivoting to regard her and Jess smiled, trying to make sure the expression wasn't too nervous. The freedom of a whole system and the billions of people who lived here depended on their actions today.
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"You feeling alright, Testor?" C'ai asked her, when she approached him. Her fellow lieutenant was most of the way into his flightsuit, prepping for a practice flight.
Hallis, one of the new squadron members, was there too, her red hair instantly recognisable. She smiled warmly at Jess, but somehow Jess struggled to return it. Hallis was just one of the new members of Black Squadron, and it was like this with all of them. It was strange to wearing the same insignia.
Hallis' face fell, just a little, and she beat a polite retreat.
Jess, feeling a twinge of guilt, paused before replying. "Do I still fit here, C'ai?"
She'd been genuinely surprised when Poe hadn't assigned her to the rebuilt Blue Squadron. The Resistance had replenished its ranks and more as the remnants of the Republic rallied desperately to the few remaining focal points in the Galaxy, but that meant that many of Jess' old wingmates were now in charge of newly formed units.
Snap Wexley had taken over that command, while Bastian headed up Red and Kare still had Stiletto. Plenty of the old guard had been lost above D'Qar and Crait, not to mention down on the surface of the latter.
Stomeroni, Tallie, Pammich… Jess' head still swam when she remembered the length of the casualty lists. And every friend's name on those lists had been a cruel wrench.
They'd taken in new recruits since then, and all of those had gone to the reconstituted and new squadrons. Poe had rebuilt Black Squadron as an elite force, however, each pilot a veteran.
All veterans of the torn salt plain, except for Jess and Suralinda. And even there, with her old friend, there were differences. Suralinda had adapted to different lives, shedding skins as needs dictated. Jess, who'd gone from childhood to slavery to the Resistance and bedded in deep with the old Black Squadron, wasn't sure how to do that.
C'ai's laugh was gunshot, but the affection in it was real enough. "You're a Rebel to the core, you're smart, you fly like one of the old Rogue Squadron and you've stayed alive all this time. Why wouldn't you fit, Jess?"
"You know why." He gave her a look, but he couldn't hide the emotion which flickered in his eyes. "Crait, C'ai. We've had six missions as Black Squadron since then, and I still feel that distance."
"You've been through everything else with us."
She scowled. "You were on Crait, you were one of the, what, twenty people that made it off. So don't tell me that doesn't make a difference. But tell me this: why has Poe kept me? Why hasn't he shuffled me off to Blue like Snap?"
He crossed the room with surprising speed, and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. "Because Poe knows we can't let it divide us. A split in the Resistance nearly finished us above Crait, and no one knows that better than the Commander." He gave her shoulder a little shake and smiled. "Besides Testor, we all still want you with us."
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They were closing on the nearest Resurgence-class, several of the Huenemak squadrons converging on them and the TIEs sprang to meet them.
"Yawma, Hallis, with me!" The three black fighters broke out from the formation, aiming for the bomber flight which slipped from a hangar ahead of them.
Jess threw Black Two into a hard roll, clamping down on the triggers and dousing the lead bomber with fire. A retro blew out, tipping it into a terminal spin so the bomber ploughed into the hull of the Star Destroyer.
Better yet, its explosion took out a turbolaser and cracked the armour. The Y-Wings of Green Squadron saw their chance and piled in, pouring ordnance into the breach. The Destroyer was swiftly crippled.
Wish we'd had you for the Starkiller, Jess ruefully thought.
But there was no time for further thought. BA-9 makes a keening noise that, in droid language, equates to raw terror.
"I see him," she said, keeping her voice level and her curse unspoken. Then she opened the commlink. "All squadrons, we have a Silencer in the battlespace."
Several of the pilots cursed. Poe asked the question that mattered instead. "Is it him?"
A tense silence before Rey says "No." But that was only so much relief. There was still an enemy ace coming at them, piloting the deadliest fighter craft the First Order had. This alone could wreak havoc on their counterstrike.
The first burst of laser fire scattered the squadrons and cut an unlucky B-Wing in two. Then a vectral missile slammed home and took out five native fighters in one blast, plus a bomber.
Jess swallowed, mouth dry. She'd heard of course the stories about Kylo Ren's assault on the Raddus and the carnage one of these things had caused. Poe was the only person who'd seen it in person and lived. Dozens of Jess' fellow pilots had perished in that attack, and yet she still hadn't quite believed one of these craft could be so lethal.
Now she believed it, alright. The shape alone, with the four dagger-points of its wings and the blood-red sheen of its cockpit, made it clear that this was solely designed to be a weapon. It moved with a hateful grace and assurance, flitting from one kill to the next. Any craft it only crippled or left exposed was set upon by the TIE Fighters and Interceptors which flocked in its wake.
The Resistance spearhead veered away, putting the Resurgent's bulk as much as they could between them and the new attackers. But several of the local squadrons were too slow and the TIE squadrons fell on them savagely.
"We need that bastard dusted!" Poe shouted.
Jess knew the instinct he was fighting, and spoke before it had a chance to win. "I'm on him."
She heard the intake of breath, but Poe fought it down. "Roger – make that bastard pay. Hallis and Suralinda, go with her!"
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"Hey Hallis."
The redhead, lying on a low-slung gurney, hauled herself out from under her A-Wing. "Hi Jess." She had an accent Jess didn't recognise, but it leant a sing-song cadence to her voice.
"Wanna hand? I've been making some mods to my fighter, could show you a couple things if you'd like."
"By all means, Lieutenant."
"Please, 'Jess' will do just fine right now." Jess knelt down, setting down her own bag of tools. "Word to the wise, a Tilica screwdriver is your best friend when you fly an A-Wing." She took a look to see what Hallis was doing, and while she waited, asked the question which, if she were honest with herself, she ought to have asked rather sooner.
"Hallis, I've been standoffish in a way that I shouldn't have been to you guys."
"It's understandable." Hallis smiled. "From what C'ai said, coming home… well I guess it wasn't home, was it?"
"No," Jess sighed.
"That's gonna throw anyone a loop, with all we lost."
Jess managed a little smile of her own. "I appreciate that, wingmate. Now, you see that auxiliary feed there? We mod our A-Wings to take astromechs, and if we connect this feed to that port… boom, your copilot's got targeting capability."
"Sweet!"
"Uh huh."
BA-9 came trundling shyly up with a hesitant series of beeps and whistles. "Ooh, this is the astro, isn't she? Your rescue droid?"
"My little cursebreaker," Jess smiled. "BA-9, come here. This is Hallis, we like her." The little droid tilted quizzically. "Yes we do, BA, so come on…"
BA-9 rolled over and allowed herself to be fussed over by Hallis. "Look at you! Aren't you a pretty droid?"
"Wow," Jess chuckled. "I've never seen her warm to anyone so fast. But getting back on track… I don't even know who you flew with before you joined us. You were one of Holdo's, right?"
"Aye."
Jess looked at her sidelong. "Green Squadron?"
"Yeah. We were just lucky to be late to the hangar, when Ren attacked."
"Sheesh." Jess paused, feeling there was something out of place. "But wait… you were one of Holdo's pilots, so…"
Hallis turned to regard her. "You're thinking about the mutiny, aren't you? Well, I…"
"You weren't in on it." Hallis shook her head, and Jess realised suddenly that her entire mental image of this woman had been off. "Damn, I'd just assumed-"
"It's alright."
She made a face. "It is and it isn't. I mean, that changes so much. Stars, how did it feel flying out on Crait, with the guys who'd had Holdo at gunpoint?"
"Honestly?" Hallis paused, considering her words. "I wasn't wild about it, but we had a job and Commander Dameron was all business. He owned his mistake and kept our minds on the task at hand. We didn't have time to think about anything else."
"And there's my lesson," Jess said quietly.
The other woman had overcome the gulf between her and her new comrades. So what excuse did she have?
She got back to work on the rewiring. "Say, Hallis. Let's get a training run in tomorrow, the two of us and maybe Suralinda. I might be able to show you a few tricks with this thing, and I'd like you on my wing for our next mission. Sound good?"
Hallis nodded. "I'm in."
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The three fighters swung and streaked up out of the shadow of the Resurgence. Jess opened a commlink to the Huenemak fighters, reeling despite their valiant attempt at a rearguard. "Friends, converge on us!"
They opened fire, smashing several TIEs and buying space for their allies to pull clear briefly and converge on their position. The Silencer spun away, and Jess marked it.
"He's seen you," Kare warned.
Jess set her jaw firmly, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I'm counting on it."
He came for her swiftly. Despite her defiant words, despite the fact that she'd studied what specs they had on the Silencer class, the knife-winged hunter was blisteringly fast. The first stabs of laser fire nearly killed her.
BA-9 squealed as they careened away, which did nothing for her nerves. "Everything to the engines!" she cried. Despite her terror, the little droid complied instantly. They rocketed up and away.
Her pursuer didn't let up, harrying her incessantly. Every other heartbeat saw her almost obliterated, but she kept to her course, weaving and dodging as she worked her way back to her fellows. Come on, you bastard. This is personal now, we both know it.
She knew the kind of predatory arrogance her opponent exuded. The pilot needed this kill, every cell in his body demanded that he blast this puny little A-Wing to atoms. Old Wedge Antilles had talked about it as an instinct which most pilots lost with time – or else they were lost to it.
It was costing him his wingmen. Kare, C'ai and the Huemenak pilots saw the opening that Jess gave them and raked the oncoming TIEs with cannon fire. Still the Silencer came on, cheating death by hairbreadths.
Later, Jess would wonder where this fixation come from. Stormtrooper training facilitated near-suicidal courage, but such obsessive, individualistic aggression was unusual. But pilots, she knew, didn't all start off as Stormtroopers. Perhaps this was some general or governor's brat who'd got away with this mindset by dint of skill and who his parents were.
Later, she'd think about all that. For now, her attention was on one thing and one thing only.
"BA, all power to the rear lifts! On my mark - now!"
She hammered the accelerator into reverse and Black Two flipped forward with such violence that she nearly blacked out. But she held on, fought down the nausea, found her target and took the shot.
Her adversary, Jess surmised, was surprised by this manoeuvre. No doubt he was more surprised still when his cockpit was ripped apart by decompression and the air inside igniting, the Silencer turning into a spiral of blazing metal ribbons.
Jess recentred herself and jetted away before any enemy craft could make her pay for the kill, her borrowed squadron falling into formation around her and cheers ringing in her ears.
Suddenly lacking their hammer, the enemy formation took the full brunt of the attack and splintered. The Falcon punched clean through, rocketed toward the battleship's bridge to douse it with fire. The Y-Wings followed seconds later, hammering torpedoes into the structure until they cracked the armourglass and blew it open.
Another cheer rang across the commnet. The First Order fleet fell into a fighting retreat, scrambling transports to extract everything they could from the battleship while the defenders counterattacked with greater vigour. Huenemak wouldn't fall today.
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"I've been thinking," Poe told her the next day, while she and BA-9 were making after-action checks to her fighter. "And it's brought me to this conclusion. Black Squadron needs a new captain."
Jess was fighting through one of those hangovers which made everything sluggish. She'd grabbed Hallis, Yawma and Suralinda during the post-battle celebrations, and they'd made their way through a bottle of amasec. Then they'd grabbed the rest of Black Squadron and done an as-yet-unknown but extensive amount of damage to their booze reserves.
So Jess wasn't feeling hugely conversational today. She frowned at Poe's non-sequitar, and busied herself with one of the retros. "It's got a commander, hasn't it?"
"And it needs more than that. Hey," he clapped a hand gently on the hull. Jess started, and looked down at him. "I'm serious. My responsibilities seem to be leading me further and further away, and I need someone who can be seen to lead the squadron when I haven't got the lead."
Jess nodded – it seemed a sensible idea after all. Then, belatedly, realisation hit her. "You're… seriously, Poe?"
"Absolutely." He smiled. "You've proven you can hack taking charge of comrades despite a lack of certain shared experience, improvise a good tactic or seven and the guys respect you, damnit. Plus, unlike C'ai, you've been ready to tell me when I'm wrong. Got a counterargument for that?"
"I mean, I wish you'd sprung this on me when I was feeling a little more like officer material, but…"
BA-9 chittered excitedly when she tailed off.
Jess looked at her astromech, and then back to Poe. "She's right. You've got me there, Commander."
"Glad to hear it, Captain Pava. And here." He passed her a flask. "Should have you feeling more like an officer pretty quick."
Jess smiled to herself as he walked away, and reached over to pat BA-9. "Captain Pava," she murmured.