Obi-Wan Kenobi stood next to the R-22 Spearhead he had been talked into flying, watching as the ground crew prepped the ship for the battle ahead. A Verpine eased the black-and-white astromech droid into place while a female human finished fueling the starfighter.
"You sure you don't want a flight suit?" she asked as she finished her task. "These things may be fast, but that's pretty much all it has in the line of defense."
Obi-Wan stopped his ascent of the ladder, turning his head around to face the young rebel. "No shields?" he questioned.
"The R-22's have them, but they're minimal. They rely mainly on their speed for evading shots."
Well at least they have shields, Obi-Wan thought as stepped into the cockpit of the ship. If I was in an Actis, I'd probably be dead for sure. The woman's face appearing beside him brought him out of his thoughts.
"I think you forgot this," she said as she handed Obi-Wan his helmet.
Obi-Wan thanked her as he put the helmet on, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming battle as he did so. Soon the ladder was pulled away and the cockpit hatch was closed.
ALL PREFLIGHT SAFETY CHECKS ARE IN THE GREEN, the astromech droid said through the screen in the cockpit. WE HAVE RECEIVED A "GO" FOR LAUNCH. REMEMBER GENERAL KENOBI, YOU ARE FLYING IN BLUE SQUADRON UNDER THE CALLSIGN OF BLUE 7.
"Thanks for reminding me," Obi-Wan replied. "What's your name by the way?"
R2-P51, the astromech replied.
"Well R2-P51, I hope we can both get out of this battle fully-functional. It's been a while since I last flew a starfighter."
Obi-Wan listened as the astromech droid let loose some worried beeps before attempting to calm it down.
Luke Skywalker sat in his borrowed X-wing, going over the controls one last time. Just like Keyan and Biggs had said, the X-wing was remarkably similar to the Skyhopper he used to own. The astromech droid his uncle had purchased, R2-D2, sat behind him.
MASTER LUKE, Artoo typed to the pilot. RED SQUADRON HAS RECEIVED CLEARANCE TO LAUNCH.
"Thanks Artoo," Luke replied.
"Red Squadron, this is Red Leader," the speaker inside Luke's helmet rang out. "I'm sure your astromech droids have just told you that we've been cleared for launch. Stick by your assigned wingmen and you should survive out there."
The numerous starfighters lifted out of the base, headed for the massive space station that was headed for the Rebel base. The ion engines of the ships glowed blue in the sky as they headed for what could be certain death.
Grand Moff Tarkin stood in the control room of the Death Star, watching the red gas planet of Yavin slowly turn in the viewport. They had achieved orbit of the planet, and within thirty minutes the Rebellion would be crushed, and he would be the hero.
"Sir," another young officer reported to him. "We've picked up several signals emerging from the fourth moon. Our scanners report that 30 enemy starfighters are incoming."
Tarkin nodded. "Prepare the point-defense guns, and have our pilots on stand-by." The young officer saluted and relayed the orders to the appropriate people.
Luke Skywalker watched as the atmosphere of Yavin 4 disappeared around him, and the sensation of flying in space hit him. It was almost disorienting, there was no "down" to help him discern his location, and only the location of other objects could be used. A few Y-wings of Gold Squadron passed by him, the twin-engine craft that would be the main weapon during the battle.
"All wings report in," Red Leader said over the intercom. The transmissions of several pilots followed as each pilot reported in.
"Red Two standing by," reported Wedge Antilles, leader of Luke's flight. Biggs Darklighter followed.
"Red Five standing by," Luke replied.
"Lock S-Foils into attack position," Red Leader ordered after his squadron was accounted for. All of the X-wings in the battle group followed orders, and the two wings on the X-wings parted, revealing the four wings that gave the ships their name.
The starfighters then encountered turbulence, the ships began rocking around. "We've entered the magnetic field," the squadron leaders relayed to their fighters. "Switch your deflectors to double-front."
"Main battlegroup, this is the Moldy Crow," Jan Ors spoke to the starfighters as she pulled her goggles over her eyes. "This is where we leave you. Green Squadron, form up on our wing."
"We copy Crow," Green Leader replied as he led his five X-wing squadron away from the main battlegroup. "Forming up on your wing."
"Yavin Base, this is Katarn. The Crow and Green Squadron are ready to escort the rest of the transports away from the moon."
"We copy, Moldy Crow. Our first transports are launching now."
"We'll keep an eye for them, Crow out."
The human doctor aboard the Death Star quickly rushed to the nearest intercom in his office, knowing what his patient could do when angry.
"Governor Tarkin, this the Lord Vader's physician. I heavily suggest you come down here right away…"
Vader reached out with the Force, sending a tray of medical instruments rattling into the ground. He had sensed Kenobi out in the starfighters and desperately wanted his revenge. He always was the better pilot, and it would be fitting that he would kill his worst enemy in aerial combat. He only wished he could kill him personally, watching his lightsaber tear through the flesh just as Kenobi had done to him on two occasions.
"I am telling you now, get me out of this tank!" Vader yelled to the doctor, who was still at the intercom. The doctor ducked the metal tray that hurtled towards his head.
"Fine," the doctor said, finally giving up. "I need to have maintenance bring back your armor, however," he reasoned, hoping that Tarkin would soon arrive and try to talk some sense into the wounded Sith Lord.
"Make it quick," Vader replied.
Five minutes later as the Rebel starfighters began to take off from their base, the hastily repaired armor of Darth Vader arrived inside of the medical bay, and the resuiting of Vader began. It didn't take long for a fully operational Vader to take his first steps in several days. And those steps were headed for the hangar containing his customized TIE Fighter.
"Look at the size of that thing!" Wedge Antilles exclaimed as the Death Star appeared from behind Yavin, the large spacestation appearing to be the size of a small moon.
"Cut the chatter," responded Red Leader. Despite Red Leader's admonishment, Luke couldn't help but agree with his wingman. Somehow, the Death Star looked much bigger in the cockpit of the X-wing than it did when he saw it in the Millenium Falcon.
"Red Five, this is Blue Seven on your private channel," Ben Kenobi's voice said to Luke. "Relax, we can do this. Trust in the Force. Feel it around you, draw it in."
Luke relaxed in his seat, taking several deep breaths as he searched for the Force. He could feel it around him, and he felt his perceptions expand. His reflexes seemed a little faster as he used it to enhance his dexterity.
Princess Leia stood by the giant holoprojector inside of the warroom, watching as the Death Star slowly orbited the planet of Yavin as the holographic representations of the starfighters approached it. Near the artificial Yavin 4, the Moldy Crow escorted a YT-1300 and a Gallofree GR-75 until they left the view of the representation. General Dodonna had insisted upon her leaving with several of the other VIPs, but she had refused. It almost seemed as if she was supposed to be in this room, helping the others coordinate the battle. She nervously glanced at the timer next to the projector, in 15 minutes the Death Star would be within firing range of the moon.
Obi-Wan Kenobi watched as the other members of Blue Squadron advanced towards their target. His wingmates, a young male known only as "Rookie" and the female human named Ru Murleen, stayed close upon his wings. He was amazed at how similar the Spearhead was to the Actis he had flown during the Clone Wars, from the responsiveness to the controls (albeit a little slower for the non-Force-sensitives that would normally be flying them), to the speed of craft. He experimentally performed a barrel-roll in the craft, quickly flipping back into his original position.
"Stop the acrobatics, Seven. Use them when you really need them," Blue Leader scolded the new addition to his squadron. Obi-Wan could swear he heard the astromech droid behind him let out a series of beeps and whistles that sounded like a laugh.
Vader's footsteps echoed throughout the hallway of the Death Star as he moved as fast as his mechanical body could take him towards his hangar. Numerous officers and assorted personnel quickly moved out of his way as he approached them, all of them eager to stay in his "good graces." Only one man dared to try and stop him.
"Lord Vader," Tarkin said as he quickly walked towards the Sith in front of him. "I highly advise that you not go out there…"
"Kenobi is out there," Vader interrupted. "He is out there, and I will have my revenge."
Tarkin began to respond to Vader, tell him that he was in no condition to fly, that the other pilots and the station's defenses could easily take care of the ships, but he was stopped. Vader rose his right hand towards the Grand Moff as his lips began to open, his thumb a few centimeters from touching his index and middle fingers. Tarkin felt his airway close, grasped by some invisible force. In his mind, he remembered Vader doing this to Admiral Motti shortly before the escape of the prisoner, and now he was powerless to stop it. He did try, however, clutching at his throat the way everyone did, attempting to dislodge the hands that did not exist. His lungs burned as the stored-up oxygen was put to use, and he could feel his feet lifting off of the ground.
Then, almost as soon as it began, it ended. Vader released his hold over Tarkin, causing the elder man to fall to the ground, gasping for breath. "I have shown you mercy, Tarkin, only because you are of further use," Darth Vader said as he stood over the nearly unconscious body of Moff Tarkin. "In the future, it would be wise to not anger me…"
Luke Skywalker looked as the Death Star now completely filled his vision through the canopy of his X-wing. He looked at his sensors, scanning the area for any enemy fighters that may have been scrambled from one of the hangar bays, only to find a screen devoid of anything other than his approach to the surface of the Death Star. He had a feeling that this battle was going to be huge, one of the first major tests he would have to face in his life. As the details of the surface grew larger in his vision, the flat surface turning into a plain of turbolasers, deflector towers, and smaller guns that the other pilots called point-defense weaponry, he said the only thing that came to his mind.
"I have a bad feeling about this…"