Chapter 2

When he had scouted the planet Hoth in search of a location for a new rebel base, this was not what he had in mind. A hole dug in the side of a frozen mountain hardly constituted a base. Sure, it was big and it had people. But that description also fit the bottom levels of Coruscant.

And the food was terrible.

Luke sat down at an empty table towards the front of the Echo Base mess hall, carrying a small cup of heated blue milk. It was the only decent food or beverage provided by the food synthesizer. It had probably been programmed by the Emperor himself.

The name was fitting. A hall of messes. But it was the most crowded spot at the base.

"Gee, Han, I think you finally have some real competition," he heard a voice say, over the cacophony.

"Would you shut up? He was as drunk as the rest of us."

Han and Wedge appeared from around a corner, embroiled in conversation.

"Who's got competition?" Luke inquired, standing up from his table.

"Heyyy Luke!" Han greeted, overly-cheerful. Cleary trying to distract him from the point.

"Heeeyyyyyyyyyy, Luke," Wedge smirked, exaggerating Han's greeting.

An unusually annoyed Han Solo scowled. "Wedge here thinks that I like Leia."

"You do."

"I do not!" Han defended, his voice unintentionally rising at least an octave.

"Yeah you do, better ask her out before that X-Wing pilot does."

"Kriff, Wedge, he was drunk! Everyone is stupid when they're intoxicated. Don't you remember that party in Tyrena five years ago?"

Wedge threw a warning glare at Han.

"Wait, what happened in Tyrena?" Luke interrupted.

"Well…" he began, at which point Wedge began to roughly push him away from Luke, disappearing back into the crowd.

Leia was right. Corellians never seem to grow up.

Just then, a young private, still in his outside gear, rushed over. "Commander Skywalker, your presence is requested at the main hangar bay immediately," he recited.

"Okay," Luke replied, barely listening. He just realized that the mess hall ceiling had no ventilators…

Disgusting.

"Luke, where have you been?" Leia asked. "And where are Han and Wedge?"

"Mess hall," he replied. "They were fighting over an old incident in Tyrena."

Leia winced, knowing what he was referring to.

"You know what it was about? What happened?"

Leia simply stated, "You don't want to know."

Luke scratched his head. "So why am I here?"

The Alderaanian princess remembered why she had requested his presence. She pointed toward the hangar opening, which was now covered in snow. There, a gloss-white, medium sized fighter sat idle on the ready pad. "Apparently, a Chandrilian engineer and pilot is sympathetic towards our goal."

Luke followed his sister, who approached the white ship. It was at least one hundred twenty feet long, with very clean lines. An elongated bubble canopy sat perched fifteen feet behind the nose cone, which tapered to a very sharp point.

The wings and fuselage blended together in gentle curves. The delta wings started just below the rear of the cockpit as wing root extensions much like an F-18 or MIG-29. But they joined instead at the bottom of the fuselage, working away from it at a low angle. They gradually turned outward, joining a cropped delta wing.

Cropped deltas in aviation refer to either curved or linear delta (triangle-like) wings that have had the outer few feet removed, usually in a straight line. This, in our world, would be similar to an F-16's. The unidentified space-plane's wings, true to the rest of itself, curved back at the outermost leading edges. The cropped wing had the capacity to hold weapons, but it still remained sleek when its ordinance pods were not attached.

Below the center of the each wing, a trapezoidal pod was (again) blended into the wings. Each held two hyperdrive engines. But why would they need an air intake?

The one sharp angle in this vehicle existed a few feet after the clipped ordinance position. The back of the wing, if viewed from above, came straight towards the center of the plane, where it rose to the height of the fuselage. At the back wing roots, the rear edge of the wing turned sharply backwards, blending into with the nose-like tail cone. Small vertical stabilizers, all-turning control surfaces, jutted out from this wing root directly behind the wings, in line with their airflow.

This, Luke realized, would make the plane more aerodynamic with a smaller head-on profile, also making it more agile. The rudder, sticking out of the top of the fuselage, was likewise joined with a bending curve. There were few truly straight lines on this vehicle. Whoever designed it was a genius.

"Why, thank you," said a voice. Luke and Leia turned around, to see a young pilot with black hair standing behind them.

"Are you force sensitive?" Luke asked, noticing how he had sensed their awe.

"Not necessarily. It's just the predictable reaction I get," the newcomer stated smugly. "The Nicomedia is a nice ship. I designed her that way."

"You are skilled," Luke said aloud. "Did you build this yourself.

"Designed, cut, assembled, wired, yup. Made the engines too."

"I see they have air intakes. Why would they need air intakes?" Leia cut in, joining the conversation.

"Those engines aren't just hyperdrives. In atmospheres, they act as ramjets."

"It's brilliant," Luke said, grossly understating his shock, "but why did you bring it here?"

The pilot smiled. "Along with myself, I would like to endow its capabilities to the Rebel Alliance."

IT'S CHRISTMAS ALL YEAR LONG ON HOTH! Might as well give the Rebels a present.

Next chapter will feature Mara Jade again. Stay tuned!

P.S.: If you have no idea what that ship looks like, PM me. I could explain it a bit.

-ClaptonJr.