Chapter 4: Inside the Widow's Head

Hangover cures were something that Starfighter pilots learned to do in flight school. Kal was fed, sobered, and in his uniform after an hour. He filed into the briefing room. This time, all the Banthas were already assembled, sitting in the front row with datapads in hand.

Kal arched an eyebrow at the scene, and asked. "Are we looking like respectable people for once?"

"Hey, when a general calls, we answer." Tarth shrugged. "Holocom starts in five."

As Kal took a seat at the end of the group of Banthas, Xil gave a little briefing of her own. "I've coordinated with the Vigilance's officers, and it looks like we've got enough from this raid to fully arm the Y-Wings for several missions."

Nalen nodded. "That's good. It'll be nice to actually use some proton torpedoes without the penny pinchers in the armory losing their minds over it."

Xil went on for several more minutes, explaining the haul they had gotten from the previous raid. An Alliance recovery team was on their way to pick up the convoy and add it to the Alliance supply fleets. After a few minutes, a comm officer let them know that Starfighter Command was on the holo. The Falleen took her seat, taking a moment to pick at imaginary lint.

The figure of Colonel Horton Salm appeared on the holoimager shortly. A man of stocky build, and a dark crown of hair, he was arguably the most famous Y-wing pilot of the Rebellion. "Colonel Salm here. The commanding officer I'm looking for is..."

The commander stood up. "Lieutenant Commander Quint Tarth, sir." He said.

"Yes, Commander Tarth. First of all, I wanted to congratulate Flight Officer Korros of your squadron." His eyes scanned the row, and settled on Kal. "That was a fine piece of flying. Flight Officer's Xil's data logs of that battle show a technique we'd like to implement further."

"Thank you, Sir." Kal said, unable to restrain just a bit of a smile.

"Yes, well, we didn't come here just to talk about maneuvers. I've got a target for your squadron, Commander Tarth."

Tarth gave a curt nod. "That's what we're here for. But, may I speak freely, sir?" At Salm's nod, he continued. "Why isn't Commander Galia involved in this briefing?"

"This briefing doesn't concern the Vigilance. It concerns your squadron." Salm answered. "I've gone through the appropriate channels to get your squadron assigned."

"Very well, Sir. My apologies."

"No need," Salm gave another of his curt nods. "Anyways, we have discovered an interesting target presented to us in the Widow's Head Nebula." Salm's image started to scale down until only his head remained in the holo. It was replaced with a star map that Kal recognized as the local star cluster. The map zoomed in on a local nebula. "The Empire has a research facility there called Sigma Seven-Three. Intelligence assets reveal that this base is being used for weapons research, as well as a secret base for their own Intelligence operatives to use."

As he continued, the image of a space station, shaped like an upside down bell, took up the holo. "The station itself has unusual defenses. Automated turrets and patrol ships serve as the main defense for the station. The local radiation of the Nebula makes the use of TIEs finnicky, so they don't have any fighter squadrons stationed on Seven-Three."

"Will our fighters be able to work in the Nebula?" Nalen asked.

"No, the shielding on non-TIE starfighters are able to deflect the radiation." Salm answered. "Now, once you've defeated the primary defenses, your next objective will be to board Seven-Three."

All the Banthas looked around each other. "Board, Sir?" Silda asked.

"Looking at your unit specs. You are a ground ops-capable unit, correct?" Salm replied.

Tarth paused for a moment. "When the squadron was first commissioned, yes. However, we had a full squadron back then, and while we have enough for a decent team, we're not exactly a commando team."

Salm considered for a moment. "We do need to know what they're doing on that station. Does your team have a capable slicer?"

"Yes, Colonel." Xil answered. "I'm skilled enough in the field. I can get in and out of most Imperial systems."

Salm gave a quick nod. "Excellent. We want you to get into the base, figure out what you can about what they're doing there. If you can do damage to the Empire's projects in the nebula, all the better."

About an hour later, Kal was stowing his gear into the rear compartment of his bomber. He was not dressed in the usual orange of an Alliance star fighter, but now wore the black flight suit of an operations unit. He had stowed his gear webbing in the compartment behind the engine when he heard Tarth's voice.

"Hey, Korros, what did the quartermaster give you in regards to weapons?"

Kal turned around. Tarth cut a much more imposing figure in his black flight suit. He had a holster strapped to his thigh, and the webbing he had loaded up were well-worn synthleather.

"Oh, an E-11 and sidearm." Kal replied. He held up the pistol, a standard model that he couldn't even guess the model of.

Tarth grinned a little, and he brought a holster up and tossed it at Kal. "Here you go, now you'll be a commando."

Kal caught the holster, and drew out the blaster. It was a Bryar rifle, with the typical pistol conversion package. He arched an eyebrow. "This is a big stanging gun." He grinned, and he strapped on the holster to his hip.

Tarth grinned. "Trust me, you won't find anything better."

After Kal had gotten his gear situated, he got into the Y-wing's cockpit and pulled on his helmet. He started to run through the preflight with Caller, and he keyed on the comms inside his helmet. There was a conversation already going on.

"So, if I'm going to be your close quarters specialist," Silda was saying. "What the hell is Kossf doing?"

"I take the heavy equipment," The Trandoshan hissed. "Provide fire support."

"You know," Kal said. "I keep meaning to ask. How the hell do you fit in a cockpit, Kossf?"

The Trandoshan gave a little hissing chuckle. "Modifications were required. Koensayr did not think of large reptilians when designing a starship."

"We had to use a recon cockpit for his fighter." Nalen remarked, referencing the two-person Y-wing longprobes. "It took some work, but we were able to give him the headroom required."

"It is rather comfortable, though." Kossf said. "Thankfully, I have my own helmet."

Sien Surr added his own two credits to the conversation. "I've got a brother who's in a B-Wing squadron. It's a fighter made for aliens in mind. Lots of head room."

"Don't think I'd do well with the rotating cockpit." Nalen said. "I hate off-center cockpits. How the hell do you land it?"

"Carefully," Tarth said. "I've copiloted a YT-1300 before. It takes some getting used to."

Silda chuckled. "Oh, Commander, were you a freighter pilot?"

"Once upon a time. After Hoth, the shipping company I worked for got taken over by the Empire. I'd done my share of time in a fighter, and I got a command of my own. All right, folks, let's get to work, I want our landing gear up in ten. The Imps won't shoot themselves."

The Widow's Head Nebula was a marvelous rainbow of colors that swirled in front of Kal's gaze. Greens, blues, yellows, reds, all swirled together in the galactic soup that was the birthing pond of stars. He sent a message back to Caller to take a few holos of the Nebula to record for the family back home.

The young starfighter pilot hadn't left home on the best of terms. He was supposed to look after the farm once his elderly parents were too old to do so. They had a great number of droids, though, and Kal knew they didn't even need to do much beyond keep the droids into repair. He still missed them, and even if the Galactic Civil War hadn't seen his little home planet, he still had felt a desire to see the Galaxy, and if he could send them home some holos he'd feel a bit better about himself.

"Banthas, form up." Tarth said over the comm. "All craft, report in." Starting with Sien and ending at Xil, the entire squadron reported in. "All right, watch yourselves. Once we're inside the nebula, sensor range is going to go to hell. Pick up your visual scanning." He ordered, referencing that inside the swirling gases of the nebula, the standard issue eyeball was your best friend for target acquisition.

"Copy, Lead." Xil said. "I'll try to punch through the interference to relay targets, but no guarantees."

"All I ask. Come on, Banthas. First targets are the patrol ships, then the turrets. Let's get in quick and easy."

Sien chuckled. "Got it. Not like any relationship you've had in the past two years."

"I am proficient in medical treatment, Commander." Kossf said. "When we land, perhaps you should seek treatment for that burn injury."

Kal grinned more than he should have. "All right, Besh. Let's get in. Keep tight, we don't know how rough this'll be."

They accelerated into the nebula. Slowly, the range of his scanners started to become obscured. By the time they had gotten further into the nebula, sensor range was at best a few hundred meters.

His scanners didn't show anything at all, but that was hardly a surprise for him. Silence ran through the comm channels as he watched his mission clock tick down. Static nipped at the edges of his scanners, and he waited.

After two minutes of flying, the first blast of laser fire scored against his shields. "Contact! Dead ahead. Banthas, form up, let's fly together."

After a moment, the swirling gases of the nebula revealed what his attacker was. A laser cannon turret, probably designed to shoot anything not broadcasting the correct authorization. Kal flipped his lasers and ion cannon to link together. The rate of fire would be sluggish, but the pure firepower would make up for it with a stationary target.

Icy and crimson streaks fired from his flights' Y-Wings. After a few salvos, the turret was gone, with little damage to his shields.

"Careful, flight. They probably sent off a beacon to the gunships."

"Speak of the devil. Contact, five hundred meters." Xil called in. "Bearing three-five-oh. Looks to be an IPV."

Imperial Patrol Vehicles, or just IPVs, were a standard Imperial patrol craft. They were infamous for their combat ability, pirate-busters and generally a picket craft. Kal grinned. Easy pickings. "Steer clear of those turbolasers. Caller, prep torps one and two."

He accelerated towards the IPV. At this range, he'd either take a turbolaser shot and lose his shields, or the guns wouldn't be able to track him that fast. The crack of his lasers scored against the IPV's hull, the ion bolts crawling along the flare of the shields.

Kal saw that Kossf and Silda were on his wings, both of them adding to it. He saw an explosion blossom on the IPV, and he heard Silda holler. "Torpedo hit right on the engineering section."

"Fantastic," Kal grinned. "Let's just hope they don't have too more of those things here." He checked his shields, and the group continued their descent into the nebula.

Chapter Five: The Empire's Secrets, coming sooner than this one!