Episode II: Rangers of the New Republic

Wyb Tersu, a rising Ranger of the New Republic,
faces growing threats in the Outer Rim.
With his reputation spreading,
whispers of a new dark order loom across the galaxy.
Summoned by Leia Organa, Wyb is tasked with protecting
newly appointed Ambassador Kyla Vancil of Bespin,
who seeks to unite independent systems with the New Republic.
As dangerous forces conspire to disrupt their mission,
Wyb must balance keeping the Ambassador safe and
securing his place within the New Republic's ranks.

"Blast it Wyb! Where are you?!" Wolf yelled as the cockpit's proximity alarm blared. Wolf's eyes darted to his scanner. His hands tightened around the joystick despite the sharp sting in his right wrist. On his HUD, the pirate ship's crimson icon blinked within feet of his x-wing. It was a midsize transport with typically at least four to six scoundrels aboard.

Pew Pew!

The blaster fire streaked past the wings lighting up the cockpit. Wolf gritted his teeth, pushing the engines to their limit. The pirate vessel was fast—too fast. Even with all of Wolf's experience, this one was going to be hard to shake.

He veered sharply left, dodging another burst of enemy fire. His wrist was shrieking in pain, but he knew if he stopped he was done for. From his peripheral, he spotted the emblem of the pirate starship, rusted but clearly a Nihil signet, swooping in for the kill.

"I can't shake them!" Wolf's voice cracked through the comm as he saw the pirate vessel's hull begin to glow as its ion cannon charged up. One hit and he would be toast.

Wolf rolled hard to the right, his engines whining under the strain, as the blast from the ion cannon streaked past him, just missing his left engine. His heart beat violently, as every button and switch on his console lit up indicating everything was at full capacity. As he tried to adjust some of his energy gauges, his hand slipped from the controls and a sharp pain shot up his arm to his elbow, causing his ship to slip back into the fire line.

"Damn it," Wolf growled, regaining his grip. But he was out of options. The enemy was locked in.

Pew! Pew!

Wyb's X-wing swooped in from above, his lasers firing into the pirate ship's shields, and then across its surface. The pirate ship staggered, its trajectory wobbling as it tried to adjust. Wyb swooped around. He wasn't finished. Diving beneath the vessel, flipping his ship with expert precision, and fired a second volley directly at the engines.

Boom!

The back of the pirate ship exploded in a burst of orange and black, debris scattering into the darkness. With a final shot, Wyb pierced the cockpit of the pirate ship, sending it spiraling out of control before vanishing into the abyss of space. Wyb pulled his X-wing up, gliding next to Wolf's.

"Show off." Wolf retorted "You sure like to play it close to the wire, don't you?"

He and Wyb had been sweeping the Outer Rim traffic routes while Carson was spending more time in the core worlds with General Syndulla. Wolf turned his head to glance at his partner while rubbing his wrist.

"After five years, you still surprised?" Wyb turned and caught sight of Wolf's discomforting expression. "How's the wrist?"

"Fine," Wolf lied and took hold of the controls.

"You should probably get it checked out," Wyb said, closing his wingspan and switching to autopilot.

"Why? So they can tell me what I already know? That I should retire?" Wolf said.

He had been having constant pain in his right wrist for the last year. He began noticing it during training exercises. But he figured it was just the new modified stirring the New Republic had installed in their X-Wings. Truth was, he knew why he hadn't noticed it before. Dodge had pointed it out. His drinking was at an all time high and the Rangers cornered him one day to intervene.

Go Dry or no Fly, Lieutenant Reed had said.

"Maybe you can get it replaced," Wyb suggested. He liked Wolf despite the rocky start the two had had when he was first transferred to Adelphi. He looked at him as a grumpy protective uncle that was always willing to go on a mission despite the danger level.

"I ain't turning myself into a machine," Wolf retorted. "If I go down in this X-Wing that's more than I could hope for. Got it Tersu?"

"Alright alright," Wyb smiled and adjusted his flight controls and saw a message from Dodge to return to Adelphi base. He sighed as his mind wandered with the stars stretched endlessly around him.

It was a beautiful sight. One he had dreamt of since he was a boy. But within this beauty there was an illusion. The false promise of calm. When they returned to base all the rumors of the new order rising, new commodities in weaponry, and new concoctions of spice plaguing the Rim would hit him and discourage any sense of good he had accomplished over the last five years.

Regardless of who you spoke to about how much progress the New Republic was making, anyone would tell you that Wyb was truly making a reputation for himself. He was the go to for security sweeps, and highly recommended for political escorts throughout the rim. Despite this, one thing weighed on him, the absence of his best friend Soni. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his personal hologram receiver.

"Hey Birthday boy. Hope you have a good one. Catch you later," Soni's voice echoed, casual but distant.

Wyb had replayed the message more times than he cared to admit. The brevity of it stung—a far cry from the days when they'd share long comm calls, laughing about the naval academy, and of course the moment upon the Project Harvester transport.

Wyb shook his head and closed the receiver, placing it back in his pocket. He had tried to keep in touch as best he could, writing to her weekly, sharing his thoughts, his struggles. But Soni's responses became shorter and more infrequent. It wasn't until last year that he stopped trying altogether. Maybe the time apart had changed her. Maybe it had changed both of them.

"Now this is a sight I'll never get tired of," Wolf said to Wyb as he saw some shooting stars graze through the distant horizon. "Well as much as I hate to admit it, we can't hide out here all day."

"Unfortunately no," Wyb said as he turned, taking the lead back to Adelphi base.

"Happy Birthday!" The pilots, rangers, and base staff shouted at the top of their lungs as Wyb and Wolf entered the lounge bar on base. Wyb jumped slightly at the overwhelming greeting. He wasn't much for birthdays as he wasn't sure when his actual day of birth was. He started celebrating each year of life from the day Lenore rescued him from the slavers.

"Damn you all! Trying to scare us half to death?" Wolf growled as Dodge came over, handing Wolf a glass of blue milk and Wyb a pint of Corellian Ale. Wolf nodded at Wyb and made his way to a table as Zeb Orrelios passed through the group of pilots toward him.

"This is all your lot's idea," Zeb said and patted Wyb on the back. "If it were up to me I'd be taking you out to meet with General Syndulla. She could use some real pilot's in her fleet."

"Now that would be a gift," Wyb chuckled uneasily knowing Zeb was referencing the mission to locate Thrawn. Not many knew of the Grand Admiral's return, and as far as the high ups in the New Republic were concerned, this information was on a need to know basis. But Wyb had a feeling Zeb knew he was one of the few who knew, especially after his mission to the Unknown Regions.

"Stand by. You never know when we might need your help, Fry" Wyb acknowledged as Zeb left the lounge bar. He turned and greeted the others on base who had come to celebrate his twenty third year when Lieutenant Reed zeroed in on him.

"Wyb! Another year down. Enjoy it. Youth fades quickly, especially in this line of work," Lieutenant Reed remarked, clinking his glass to Wyb's. "How's Wolf holding up?"

Wyb hesitated, glancing at Wolf. Reed was second in command after Carson, and he knew what he said about Wolf's condition would hold more weight than he wanted.

"He's fine. Just needs some rest between runs," Wyb said casually. Reed gave a half-hearted nod, clearly not wanting to draw attention to their conversation.

"I know you two are close," Reed said. "But you're not doing anyone any favors by covering for him, least of all him."

"Lieutenant, I'm from the rim. And we have a saying, if you've gotta speak Basic, spit it out." Wyb glanced over at Sash Ketter hoping she would come over and rescue him from the surprise interrogation, but her attention was focused on one of the good looking cargo pilots.

"His wrist. It's slowing him down," Reed said plainly.

"I haven't noticed a change," Wyb took a big swig of his ale and looked away as he lied.

"Wyb, loyalty is admirable, but not when it puts lives at risk." Reed's stern tone cut through the jovial atmosphere. Wyb shifted his weight and turned to look at the lieutenant directly.

"Our numbers haven't slowed," Wyb countered defensively. " We make quota every quarter don't we? Has Adelphi lost its funding? In fact Wolf and I are pulling more than Ketter and Dodge, and more than you and Carson who have been out in the Core most of the time."

"Look here, hot shot. I'd fly circles around you to teach you a lesson, but I remember what it was like to be your age, so I know it wouldn't do any good."

"You wouldn't be doing any of these circles in a N-1 Starfighter ship would ya? I hear those things are fast. Much faster than any of our x-wings," Wyb baited Reed knowing full well he had been outrun by Din Djarin and his new starfighter.

Reed studied him, a mix of admiration and concern in his eyes. "From experience, you won't always be there to cover him. One of these days, that wrist of his will call his number. Or worse, yours."

"I could think of worse ways to go," Wyb sassed and finished his ale.

Reed watched the young pilot and envied his confidence and loyalty to his fellow veteran. He didn't want to crush the kid's mood with tales of his own losses during the war. He'd save that for another day. The bad days. The rough days. The ones you need to know that terrible things happen and somehow life goes on. He took Wyb's empty glass and headed back to the bar.

"Hope you're not planning on getting sloshed," Carson said from behind him. Wyb jumped at the surprise."Congratulations."

"It's just my birthday," Wyb replied puzzled. "Not something you congratulate a person on. Or is that a core world thing?"

"No," Carson said, his voice low. "I meant your new assignment. You've been personally recommended to escort the new ambassador of Bespin to Navarro."

"Escot? Just me?" Wyb echoed, the weight of the assignment settling in. He had done escorts before but never alone.

"Apparently," Carson's expression hardened. He liked Wyb and knew he was skilled. But he was apprehensive of sending any of his crew out alone. He preferred to send his pilots in pairs, so they always had someone watching their back. But the order came from higher up and he didn't have much ground to push back on. "Kyla Vancil, newly appointed ambassador, is on a mission to recruit more planets in the Outer Rim to join the New Republic."

"That's a tall order," Wyb reached out to take another glass of ale from a fellow pilot just as Carson intercepted it and drank it instead.

"You'll meet her in Nevarro with her junior intern and droid. I believe you know them both. Prisa Tersu Rathos and R-3?"

Wyb's heart sank. How the hell was Prisa on this assignment? She was still a kid in his eyes. Now fourteen, Prisa had been thrown into the capital way of life as her mother Rya picked up her political career once more as senator of Lothal. As for her step father Rillo, he was enjoying every bit of his new role as father to her five year old brother Lenny. As for R3, well he was sure to give Wyb an ear-load of beeps. The fiesta droid had been holding a grudge since his last adventure in the Unknown Regions feeling unappreciated and forgotten. He clearly was the only reason they made it out alive and he wanted all the credit that was due to him.

"Did the recommendation come from Rya?" Wyb asked.

"No, higher, Organa," Carson revealed. "The mission for you is simple. Escort the ambassador to attend the funeral of the High Magistrate and make contact with Djarin. The New Republic wants to start negotiations with Mandalore."

Wyb raised an eyebrow. The Mandalorians were a proud and wary people, and gaining their trust would not be easy. He was beginning to understand why Organa had recommended him. It was for his connection with Din and nothing more. He felt a bit used but also impressed at the Senator's cunning plan. If anything he still felt he owned her since he was one of the individuals responsible for losing her husband's General Solo's prized ship in the Unknown Regions: The Millennium Falcon.

"How long is this assignment?" Wyb asked as glanced back at Wolf, worried. Too much time away meant no one else would cover for his partner the way he did, or worse bail him out in a tough spot.

"As long as necessary," Carson said and looked over at Wolf. "I caught the last bit of that exchange between you and Reed."

"Captain?"

"The Lieutenant has a point," Carson sighed. "But he also likes to follow the handbook a bit too closely in my opinion. "

"That's why you're the captain," Wyb charmingly smiled. Carson chuckled.

"Enjoy the party. But be sure you're able to fly straight tomorrow," Carson finished the ale and handed Wyb the empty glass.

"Understood," Wyb said.

"Oh and Happy Birthday Ranger," Carson said and left the lounge.

Wyb smiled and turned to joining the party. Who knew when he would be back from this new mission. Things were shifting once more. At least this time he would see some familiar faces.

As the hours passed late into the night the party continued when Wyb decided his head was buzzing enough from the evening. He made his way to his bunk and flopped on his bed. He reached into his pocket once more and played the message on his hologram receiver:

"Hey Birthday boy. Hope you have a good one. Catch you later."