Sorry, it's been a while since I updated. I figured I'd give you a long chapter as a sort-of apology.
I figure I had better accelerate the plot. So, here goes.
Chapter Four
(Three Months Later)
Three months. Luke had survived three long, arduous months with Andover.
It's not that he was a bad person. He just never shut up.
Luke looked around the ready-room, where pilots received their briefings. Members of the Rogue squadron, as well as the two survivors of the Renegade Flight, sat throughout the room in randomly-chosen seats.
After the Renegade Flight (one of the sects of the dissolved Red Squadron) was obliterated during an escort mission, its two grounded pilots were absorbed into the Rogues.
Half of the seats in the room were empty, a reminder of those who had lost their lives.
Andover had unceasingly complained over Mon Mothma's style of giving intelligence that operatives had gained, then noting how many died in the process.
"No offense, Lady," he bitterly mumbled when they were informed of the incident, "but all we Rebels ever do is die to accomplish things."
Two seats to his left, that same Andover sat asleep on a chair, lightly snoring.
Because of his perfectionism, the fleet had never looked better. Restrained to ground duty as a precaution, since he just recently talked his way into the Alliance, he had taken it upon himself to make sure everything was in good working condition. Luke smiled, remembering the fit Andover had taken when he saw the dirty (as usual) Millennium Falcon.
It provoked a long and vicious argument with one disgruntled Han Solo. Luckily, two nearby pilots managed to restrain the two before someone threw a punch.
Andover shifted in his seat slightly. The snoring stopped.
"Attention!" one of the lieutenants at the door shouted. Andover was jarred from his sleep, his latent reflexes throwing him off balance. He haphazardly fell out of his seat onto the floor.
As Princess Leia and Admiral Ackbar walked into the room, Luke forced himself not to laugh audibly as Andover gracelessly tried to stand back up.
"Due to our unforeseen boon brought about by Lieutenant Casimir's defection," Ackbar began, "today we will fly electronic countermeasures against a small nearby Imperial Task Force. This mission will require the electronic equipment found in his spaceplane. Six fighters of the Rogue Squadron will fly cover."
The lieutenant at the door began handing out the flight plans and mission folders.
"Wedge will fly as leader," Ackbar stated. Wedge merely nodded, taking his assigned folder.
Leia began listing the commissioned pilots.
"Commander Skywalker."
"Yes ma'am."
"Lieutenant Jones."
"Yes ma'am."
"Lieutenant Casimir."
"What? I get to fly today?" Andover questioned. He began a short victory dance.
Ackbar shook his head. "Lieutenant, I really do not believe that was necessary."
"Whatever!" Andover yelled. "It's my first Rebel sortie!" He excitedly ran out of the room towards the hangar, completely forgetting his own mission folder.
Leia watched him leave with an amused look on her face. Handing both his and Andover's folders to Luke, she kept reading off the names.
By the time the flight crews had made their way out to the dug-out cave/hangar, Andover had taken his place in his plane and had already started up the Nicomedia's preflight checklist.
Luke walked up towards the plane and ascended the ladder that helped someone enter the cockpit.
"Ah!" he exclaimed in shock. Andover was wearing a psychedelic-rainbow helmet, with thin, wavy spectrums repeating over and over again. A thick black line split the helmet down the center from front to back. At the front, the black merged with a flat white prism design. The bottom of the prism aligned with the rim of the helmet, right above the eyes. Down each side, vertical thin, wavy rainbow patterns repeated as reflections of themselves. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, red...
Looking at this wave-like bright pattern for more than five minutes, Luke thought, would probably make me sick.
He remembered what he was told right before he left the briefing room. "Andover, Ackbartold me I was flying frontseater."
Andover looked back at Luke. "No, I am. I built it. I'm the only one who knows how it works."
"And because you built it, you put it in a state of eternal dibs."
"Correct," he acknowledged, barely looking up.
Luke, resigned, gently stepped onto a panel that folder outward and down from the fuselage, designed to help the rear pilot get to his seat. Stepping onto the small platform, Luke swung himself up into the plane.
From his current vantage point, he could see forward into the front cockpit. He was amazed.
Compared to the ancient technologies in the X-Wings, such as mechanical gauges, this plane was a Corusca Gem. Many of the instruments on the instrument panel were replaced by four large touchscreens, arranged in an upside-down T pattern. Luke could see Andover using it, resetting the flight computer's memory.
The side instrument panels had a few toggle switches towards the wall of the plane, all of which marked digitally. Towards the back of these side panels were touchscreens, prevalent on both sides. Front of the switches and near the main panel were the controls. A two-sectioned leaver-covered lever on the left controlled the thrust, and the joystick was on the right. A line of square, blinking transparent buttons arched around the front canopy mountings and around the top of the main panel. Furthermore, two slew knobs were placed above the left and right screens, and another row of lighted buttons were arranged below the screens.
And, it had a holographic heads-up display.
The rear cockpit was probably just as complicated.
Luke strapped on his own (more regular) helmet, and adjusted his position on the uncomfortable ejection seat. The ejection seat was one of the few second-hand parts in the plane. Though it was repainted and fixed up, Luke could tell that is was probably pulled out of a scrap pile.
"Any questions?" Andover asked.
Luke thought for a moment. He settled on "How does it work?"
"I left a flight manual on your ejection seat. You're probably sitting on it."
Luke squirmed around in his seat, feeling for the pamphlet.
"It's not here," he said finally. Andover sighed, stood up in his seat and turned around.
"Here," he said, handing another pamphlet to Luke. "I have an extra."
Luke skimmed through the piece of paper, and back to his cockpit. A large central touchscreen, according to the paper, was the radar intercept screen. A small Aurebesh keyboard was placed below that. A series of gauges were strewn around the rest of the main panel.
Luke noticed a secondary hyperdrive control panel, used to work in conjunction with the pilot.
The other side was covered in emergency information and a secondary joystick. The manual stated that it was there should the front pilot be incapacitated, enabling the rear pilot to still fly.
Following the listed preflight procedure, he hit a bunch of switches and activated the radar, turning the primary action to "sidescan." He then lifted the red switch cover on the left console labeled VTOL-TP. Luke flipped the switch, and the cockpit's screens and lights began to flash.
The control lights started blinking, and the left and right panels activated themselves. Then, Luke's computer began to start up. He looked at the miles of coding as they began filling charts on his screen.
The coded screen flashed to a blue one, showing a line drawing of hyperdrive lanes.
"Enter your destination's coordinates now," read the computer screen.
"Where was that fleet? T6, I think?" Luke requested aloud. He flipped on the radio.
"Wedge! Where is the fleet?"
"T6."
"Thanks, Wedge." Luke repeated the coordinates, which the computer immediately handled.
Luke, now realizing that he would not be of great concern to the mission for about five hours, began fiddling with his hands.
"If you're looking for something to do, there's a media drive on the flight computer," Andover informed, virtually reading his mind.
"Are you force sensitive?" Luke inquired. "You seem to always read my thoughts."
Andover scoffed. "If I'm anything, I'm forcibly in-sensitive. Anyway, I uploaded some holovids, and a bunch of old albums I got from my uncle."
"I'm guessing it is on the C Drive?" Luke asked, reading the pamphlet he was given.
"Yup." Luke tapped the screen, and it showed him a wide range of options.
"Why are there romance holovids on here?"
"What?" Andover exclaimed. He cursed under his breath. "Sorry Luke. My sister usually flies back there. She changes my files a lot." He paused. "Luke, go into the Songs folder. Is the Duck Song there?"
Luke clicked on the screen. "Yes, it is."
Andover groaned. "You can play it, if you want. If my sister got in there, it's probably the best song left."
Luke clicked on it.
When the duck walked up to the lemonade stand…
Luke could sense Andover becoming irritated. He stopped the song.
"I'm going to put on one of your sister's movies," he announced.
"Just use the wireless headphones," Andover directed.
"Wait, there are headphones?"
"Yeah. Lower left cabinet."
After two movies and a few reruns of the Duck Song, Luke's screen soon flashed to the radar interface.
"Luke, we are 17 klicks away. Commence attack procedure." Andover announced. He then called for the attention of the X-Wing pilots. "Okay, Rogue flight, don't come closer than 14 klicks. We need cover, we'll call."
"Limit radio contact, enter left holding pattern. Roger."
"Okay!" exclaimed Andover. Luke, reading the manual, pulled up a commands folder that popped up in the lower right screen. He adjusted the radar to INS, as the manual told, and activated the jamming screen. The fleet was now only 15 clicks away, and the fighters turned away.
The top part of the fuselage slid back, and a large rectangular pod was pushed outside the craft.
Jamming procedure commenced, flashed the screen.
13 klicks…
12 klicks…
11 klicks…
Mara rushed onto the bridge. "What is going on?!" she asked. Barely anyone looked up from their screens to take notice.
"We're under a Rebel attack," yelled one of the radar operators.
"I want the Emperor on the line now." Mara growled.
"Can't get through. All VHFs appear covered," rattled of a Communications officer.
"Scramble Fighter Group 21," ordered the Admiral in command. One of the lieutenants relayed the message through the computer down to the hangars.
Mara thought for a moment. "No, hold the fighters," she spoke on the intercom. "If it's blocking our radio, it is probably modified. Electronic countermeasures craft are usually only given basic armaments."
"Ignore her. Scramble, scramble, scramble!" he said.
She force-pushed the insolent officer away from the computer. He roughly collapsed onto the metal plating, Mara angrily hovering over him.
"The Emperor has so graciously put me on this ship for a reason. With all intents and purposes, this ship is under my command and you will do as I say." Petrified, the Admiral could barely nod in compliance.
"Fighters away!" announced the cockpit speakers.
"No, call them back," Mara directed.
There was a muffled response on the other line, as the poor ensign in the flight hangar tried to gain the attention of the departing TIEs.
"I'm sorry, Commander Jade. The fighters are already away and the comms are down. We can't get 'em back."
Annoyed at the subversion of her command, Mara sat down in a chair. "Radar, where's the bogey?"
"Umm…" the young officer on duty looked confused. "Radar's down, we can't tell. Flight?"
An ensign in the Flight Navigation responded, "Can't get a clear reading, we estimate 8 kilometers and closing fast. We picked up a flight of seven a while ago, but most of those radar contacts just disappeared."
"Hey!" shouted a young male officer working the radar, who was peering at his screen. "The transmission seems to be focusing on a very-high frequency band at about 102.5 megahertz."
"Interpret the signal," Mara ordered.
"Roger." He adjusted a knob below his computer screen. The low background static noise gradually dissipated as patchy music began to play in the speakers.
"Here we go…" he announced.
The speakers next to one of the consoles on the bridge turned on, and the patchy music filled the command area. At least, you could call it music, but the transmission was partially encrypted. The end result sounded a bit like this:
Static fuzz "When the duck…" static "lemonade stand-" crack, pop! "Said to the…" More static "…stand, 'Hey!'…"
"What the hell is that?" Mara asked incredulously. These Rebels, if they were indeed Rebel Alliance attackers, were a perplexing bunch.
The Imperials observed as the yet-unidentified Nicomedia came closer and closer to the Super Star Destroyer.
"We broke the four-klick radius," Luke announced. "Hey, there's the ship."
"Mm hmm," Andover responded, distantly. "Hey, Luke, check on the jamming program for me?"
Luke tapped his screen, and then tapped the large icon labeled "Transmission Wizard/Data Com." He then opened the menu, activating the "Verify transmission" box.
The Duck Song filled the cockpit.
"Luke," Andover asked, trying to remain calm, "was that playing this whole time?"
Luke checked his computer. "Yes, I had it on a loop. Why?" Then he heard a large thump, presumably Andover hitting something in anger.
"Damn, Luke, you weren't in the media player! You were broadcasting that on the radio waves! That was the transmitter! The Imperials probably can see us on their radar!"
"Wedge-" Luke began, about to call for help…
Andover threw the plane into a sharp right barrel roll, making Luke drop his comm unit. "We need backup!" the younger pilot called from the front. "Twenty TIEs, 12 o'clock tally, off one kilo."
Ouch. Nice plane, bad situation.
At least this starts the plot device. Luke is going to meet Mara soon.
Also, REVIEW! I'm typing thousands of words here. Can't you leave a few of your own?
-ClaptonJr.
PS: In military slang, a "Klick" is a kilometer. That's why it starts with a K.