Bozilla: Head Tilt resolves all problems, everybody knows that!
Reaper200851: Not my fault. Georges Lucas did not give a name to the ' far, far away' galaxy where his famous saga takes place. Since this fanfic is a crossover involving an inhabitant of another galaxy, I must specify which galaxy I am talking about, and 'Star Wars Galaxy" is an explicit term.
Author's note: The events in this chapter are virtually simultaneous with the events in the previous chapter, so Space Ishtar will not appear in this chapter.
The Mandalorian Falcon
(Fourth Chapter)
Imperial Supply Depot Baas SC56/13RF6789; somewhere between Starforge and Ithor.
Baas-class space stations were used by the Imperial Fleet in sectors where the threat of Rebel attack was very low. The Baas stations were of impressive size, they were towers that were over 900 meters high. Their external appearance was complex as if elements of different shapes (a cone, a cylinder, then a disc, and finally another longer cylinder) had been welded to each other. And, of course, the white hull was irregular with illuminated portholes, position lights, various shaped antennas, and airlocks.
Although armored and equipped with shields, the Bass stations were unarmed, only defended by two TIE Fighters (1) and 400 DepositSec soldiers (2).
The Empire's technology was modular. Nothing looked more like a flight bay than another flight bay. The floor was black, smooth, and shimmering. The walls were white and suspended portals allowed TIE fighters to dock. The luminous atmospheric retention fields surrounded a large rectangular opening, forming an invisible barrier.
The MSE-6 Mouse Droids, a small black box that squeaked on magnetic pads, moved in the huge, almost empty flight deck.
The TIE racks were only used by two fighters, and only one Sentinel-class landing-ship was installed in the hangar.
Several ASP-7 worker droids were busy loading crates, cable rolls, and smaller boxes aboard the Sentinel shuttle.
Standing in front of the entrance ramp, a DepositSec soldier scanned one box after another. Near him stood a tall woman dressed in the gray jumpsuit of the imperial technicians. Chief Malo was the chief engineer of the Nebulon-B frigate Far Orbit.
She compared the references of the boxes scanned by the soldier with a list of equipment on her datablock, checking one box after the other.
When the last crate was loaded aboard the shuttle, Chief Malo smiled, turning to an imperial officer who was pacing, one of his leather-gloved hands tightened in the other, arms crossed in the back. The man walked calmly without showing impatience.
"Sir, the shuttle is loaded."
Dhas Vedij, Far Orbit First Officer, stopped and replied.
"Found everything you need?"
"Yes, sir!"
The soldier in black uniform advanced and saluted.
"Sir, there is one last formality. You must sign the exit form for all equipment taken from the depot."
Vedij remained phlegmatic but in truth, he refrained from sighing... the only positive thing in the current war is that he no longer had to fill in reports of eight pages in three copies for each blaster shot. The bureaucracy was the most powerful force in the universe... according to the bureaucrats, and everyone had to comply.
He signed the soldier's datablock, before presenting his eye to the scanner for a comparison of his iris with the stored record in the station's database.
There was a beep and the soldier smiled and then saluted (again).
"Thank you, sir. Have a good trip!"
"Thank you, soldier."
Dhas Vedij turned around, climbed aboard the shuttle, and entered the cockpit. The pilot and co-pilot were talking peacefully but stopped when they saw him.
"Prepare to take off."
"Yes, sir."
The two men revived the control screens that were in standby mode and closed the ramp.
"This is shuttle Lumbarium, air traffic control, requesting permission to take off."
"This is air traffic control, Lumarium shuttle, permission granted. Take course 120. Over."
"Thank you, air traffic control. Over."
The Sentinel shuttle - an enlarged version of the famous Lambda shuttle- gracefully took off and spread its wings before crossing the barrier that separated the hangar bridge from the cosmic void.
Dhas Vedji exited the turbolift at Deck 17, the door opened directly onto the bridge of the Far Orbit. He saluted the man sitting behind the desk in the center of the room.
"Sir, the spare parts loading is complete; Chief Malo assures us that the depot has provided us with all the missing parts."
Captain Kenit looked at Vedji with barely controlled anger.
"I hope you're glad we lost six hours, Vedji. If the Mandalorian Falcon escapes us because of you, I guarantee you your incompetence will be reported to Lord Blackhole."
Vedji was a brave soldier, belonging to a family of the military aristocracy of Coruscant. He used to risk his life... however, this time he struggled to hide his worry. Report him to the ISB because... because he respected the rules of the Imperial Fleet?
"Sir, with all due respect, we cannot go into battle without the spare parts necessary for the possible repair of damage caused by..."
"I know that," interrupted Kenit.
The Captain decided that he was right and that the First Officer was wrong. Nothing would change his mind, especially not evidence of his mistake.
There was a moment of silence. Actually, Captain Kenit was fully aware that since the Sullust incident, the Far Orbit had been subject to inexplicable failures. Any captain aware of his responsibility would have brought the Nebulon-B Frigate to the nearest shipyard for repair... but this would have forced Vocis Kenit to abandon the pursuit. Now he accused his second and chief engineer of being responsible for all the breakdowns and their consequences... rather than give up pursuing the Mandalorian Falcon and his hopes of promotion.
Vocis Kenit was that kind of pathetic, arrogant, selfish fool who preferred to be the captain of a sinking ship, rather than the first officer of a well-commanded ship. His jealousy and ambition made him the worst enemy of the Far Orbit crew.
Yet... yet this time Kenit was right.
The stop at the depot and the delay caused would have incalculable consequences... and ultimately cause the annihilation of the Empire!
Pirate space station Starforge
Hearing the entrance bell, General Adar Tollon of the Rebel Alliance sighed before placing the datablock he was reading on his desk.
He pressed the door opening button.
"You can enter."
A Trandoshean in a spacesuit entered the room. He began to speak in his native language, a mixture of whistling and grunting. Tollon was startled.
"What?! Dharus has arrived! Bring him aboard... immediately!"
The saurian-like humanoid replied in a mocking tone and Tollon smiled.
"Yes, excuse me, Jungen... of course you knew I wanted to call him, you did well to be proactive."
A few minutes later, a colossus belonging to an unknown alien species entered the general's office. His skin was brown-orange, his teeth were only canine, and his eyebrows were bushy. This made an astonishing contrast with his shaved skull except for two long braids bandaged with leather ties. In addition, Dharus had a spiral tattoo on his temple.
Despite his intimidating appearance, Dharus was a privateer of the Alliance.
"General Tollon, I have often heard of you. But I must admit I am surprised. I didn't expect the Rebel Alliance to call for my help. What's going on?"
In a few sentences, Tollon summarized the situation, the datacard hidden in a Mandalorian amulet, stolen by a pirate...
Dharus had listened in silence.
"I see, and therefore you want me to lead you to Prince Shiraz."
"Right," replied Adar Tollon, nodding. "I hope of course you know where his lair is."
"Well..." the privateer smiled mockingly and let the silence settle for a few seconds." The suspense is untenable, isn't it?"
"Dharus, this is very serious!"
"One of my men has worked for Shiraz in the past, I believe his base is in the Ottega system."
"The planetary system where Ithor is located? But it's just in the neighboring sector!"
"Yes, a few hours away!"
They still had a chance to arrive on time!
In orbit of Sullust, ISD Devastator
The room was clean, sanitized, and bare. Medical computers and advanced communications systems lined the walls.
In the center was Darth Vader's 'sphere of meditation' of, in fact, at Hyperbaric Medical Chamber.
Suddenly two articulated arms came out of the walls, each carrying half a communication screen. The two arms joined. The static snow was replaced after a few moments by the face of Commandant Mulchive Vermis. The officer was very pale, with the lower lip shaking, aware of risking his life by disturbing the Dark Lord of the Sith while he was resting.
"Lord Vader, we just received a communication from the Imperial Center. The Grand Vizier Sate Pestage wishes to speak to you."
Despite the term 'wishes' used by Mulchive Vermis, it was an order. Theoretically, Darth Vader was Palpatine's right hand and even the heir to the Imperial throne. But in practice, he had no title in the imperial hierarchy. Instead, Pestage controlled the imperial administration and the army.
There was a click and the two halves of Vader's Meditation Chamber separated.
Mulchive Vermis swallowed when appeared the face of the man whom all knew only by the mask of his armor.
Vader was bald and hairless, his skin as pale as that of a cave larva. Moreover, a large scar disfigured him. Nevertheless, the worst was the eyes, with dark circles, deep sunken in the silky face... unnatural yellow Sith eyes, burning with infernal fire.
Vermis was one of the few 'privileged' to have the 'chance' to know the true face of Vader. But he would gladly have done without it. The Dark Lord imposed on Vermis the contemplation of his face, enjoying the barely hidden disgust of the commander of his flagship.
Two manipulative arms emerged from the walls and placed the mask and helmet on the disfigured face of the man once called Anakin Skywalker.
The cyborg's artificial respiration suddenly fills the room.
"Commander Vermis, redirect the Grand Vizier's call to my apartment."
"At your command, Lord Vader."
Mulchive Vermis, a coward whom Vader despised... took this as permission to cut off communication and the screen went off. However, a holopod came out of one of the walls.
A translucent, slightly unstable, bluish image formed above the projector. Although the image was reduced to one-third, Pestage's warty face and his hat with flaps concealing the rest of his head were clearly recognizable.
"Lord Vader, it is a joy to see you again."
"Spare me the usual jokes, Grand Vizier. You have a reason to contact me I suppose? Hurry. I'm very busy."
Pestage smiled mockingly.
"I imagine that without difficulty, Lord Vader. Slaughter the Rebels, terrorize the administrators, and even kill a planetary governor... the story of your latest exploits is as always the first topic of discussion among all these larvae that swarm in the corridors of the Imperial City, commenting on the least of your actions with a mixture of fascination, disgust, and terror. "
Vader answered nothing, he knew enough Pestage to know that the Grand Vizier had no other purpose than to mock him.
As the silence persisted, Pestage sighed.
"I heard you were looking for the frigate Far Orbit. Why?"
"I act on the orders of the Emperor," Vader simply replied, implying that if Pestage wanted more information, he had to ask the Emperor himself.
The whole conversation was one of those political games that Lord Vader hated, where each tried to impose his pre-eminence on the other. Unfortunately, since he was Sidious's right-hand man, his participation was mandatory.
There was again a moment of silence, even tenser than the previous one.
Pestage finally gives way.
"I requisitioned this frigate for a priority mission."
"I know this," Vader replied, nodding his head slowly. "However, local officials do not know what this mission is, hence my request to the Imperial Center."
The Grand Vizier hesitated a few moments, when he took the floor again his voice was friendlier. Sate Pestage quickly summarized the current mission of the Far Orbit, finding a datacard containing the organization chart of the Rebellion cells in the Core, as well as the names of all the sympathizers.
"... you understand that I cannot divert the Far Orbit from her current mission, Lord Vader."
Vader's breathing was the only sound audible for a few seconds.
"I do not wish to interfere with the eradication of the Rebellion," the Sith Lord finally replied. "Nonetheless, the Far Orbit witnessed a phenomenon... an unusual one. The Emperor has asked me to investigate. So I must question the Far Orbit's crew."
"I see. Then maybe you could join the Far Orbit in the Ottega system. The base of the pirate Shiraz is on an asteroid of this system."
Vader got up and two articulated arms came out of the wall. One of them was holding his black cape and the metal limbs immediately began to dress the Sith Lord.
"I thank you for this information, Grand Vizier Pestage... it is always a pleasure to talk to you," added Vader mockingly, implying exactly the opposite.
Pestage replied in the same tone.
"We are two servants of the Empire, it is normal to help each other."
"However, I must end this... pleasant conversation; a magnetic storm is jamming communications. See you again, Grand Vizier."
Without giving Pestage time to respond, Vader disconnected the holographic projector.
Système Ottega, Ottega Sector
Seeming to decelerate unnaturally, a Nebulon-B frigate returned to Einsteinian space, leaving light-speed.
On the bridge of the Far Orbit, there was a stunned silence. Each crew member looked at their screens with incomprehension.
It was Dhas Vedij who summarized the situation on behalf of all.
"Why did we get out of hyperspace? We still had two hours of travel! Navigation, where are we?"
Lieutenant Faesh trotted to a console where a crewman in a grey uniform was working. The hand turned to the First Officer.
"Sir, we are in the Ottega system... our destination."
Indeed, Ottega (in the sector of the same name) was the planetary system from which the Ithorian came. Exactly, they were natives of the fourth planet. The asteroid where Shiraz had settled was in the Harugi Spill, Ottega's asteroid belt.
Vedij blinked.
"We have already arrived? How is this possible?"
Lieutenant Faesh, leaning over the console, was checking the crewman's work.
"Sir, I don't see any error in the programming of the jump at light-speed. Yet we got there two hours and seven minutes early."
Another crewman, in front of the sensor console, spoke.
"Sir, the detectors confirm that the sun visible at 123 is Ottega. The mass and light spectrum are identical. The system is composed of 75 planets... the orbit, mass, and atmospheric composition of each planet correspond to those of the planets of the Ottega system as recorded in our databases."
While speaking, the crewman had pressed a few push-buttons on his console and one of the bow screens turned on, displaying a diagram of the Ottega planetary system.
Before Vedij could speak again, a diode flashed on the comlink built into the armrest of the command chair. He turned the switch.
"This is the bridge, First Officer Vedij listening."
"Sir, this is Engineering, Chief Halla Malo."
"Chief Mallo, I hope you're calling to explain why we got out of hyperspace two hours early?"
There was a brief silence.
"Sir, you will surely remember that the previous breakdown on board the Far Orbit was precisely caused by an overload of the hyperdrive, which resulted in an emergency hyperspace exit."
"You mean it's the same thing?"
"No, sir, I mean my tinkering worked. The voltage regulators around the main generator prevented such an overload. Despite this, all onboard systems are powered by an unknown form of energy... and receive far more energy than what was intended by the manufacturers. Besides, I don't understand why we don't explode..."
Vedij frowned.
"Nonetheless, it doesn't explain why we got into the Ottega system two hours early."
Malo's voice was hesitant.
"What I am about to tell you is pure speculation on my part, sir... But since all spaceship systems receive more energy than normal, perhaps they work better. Our hyperdrive is class x2... maybe now the Far Orbit is more like a class x1.5 hyperdrive."
Dhas Vedij looked at the crew members and the silent officers. All were turned in his direction. They listened carefully to the discussion between the First Officer and the Chief Engineer. All were worried, uncomfortable... their ship so safe, so powerful a few days ago had become strange... as haunted.
He forced himself to smile.
"Well, we're not going to complain if the Far Orbit has become the fastest Nebulon-B frigate in the Empire, are we, Chief Malo?"
Of course, Vedij did not mean a word of what he had just said... nevertheless, his task was to reassure the crew.
Halla Malo seemed to understand this.
"Yes, sir! And she will remain the safest ship in the Empire!"
Woken up with a start, because of the alarms that had resounded aboard the frigate, Captain Vocis Kenit had arrived on the bridge in a very bad mood... but as he was almost always in a bad mood, no one paid particular attention to it.
Dhas Vedij reported to him, explaining what had happened and the deductions of Chief Malo, and remained at attention while his superior ventilated his bad temper on his second. Because, of course, everything was Vedij, Malo, and the rest of the crew's fault... such incompetents... except him, of course.
"How much time do we have before the Plaguebearer arrives?"
Kenit spoke of the Strike cruiser commanded by Imperial Commissioner Notha of the ISB. The man had taken the lead of Operation Mandalorian Falcon.
"According to the plan, the cruiser should arrive in two hours."
Kenit thought for a few moments then smiled... a wicked smile...
"No, we can't wait for the Plaguebearer! We must take advantage of the opportunity to strike and attack immediately."
"But..." began Vedij.
His superior did not allow him to finish his sentence.
"We lost six hours on schedule because you forced us to a refueling stop. We can't afford to lose another minute, let's attack immediately!"
In reality, the commander of the Far Orbit thought only of his own interest. Kenit's eyes were shining, he alone had seen the opportunity available to him... he was temporarily rid of Commissioner Notha... which meant that if he discovered the Mandalorian Falcon... it would be Vocit Kenit's success, and he wouldn't have to share the honors with anyone else.
As Vedij stood at attention without executing the command he had just given him, Kenit turned red under the effect of anger.
"This is an order, Captain Vedij, I am your commander, obey!"
"Yessir!"
Furious, the face as pale as hospital sheets, Vedij saluted.
Shiraz's Asteroid Base.
In the old base dating from the Clone War, alarms sounded.
Pirates ran into the corridors, some armed themselves, ready to face a landing. From several surface's exits came out some outdated AAT-1 Battle Tank, a hovertank that had been used by the CIS... another relic of the Clone War. They took place in the dusty craters that dotted the surface of the asteroid, waiting for the imperial attack.
Shiraz himself was running towards the fighter hangar.
The Mandalorian moved into the cockpit of a spacefighter, a Subpro/ Incom Z-95 AF-4 Headhunter. This warbird was the direct ancestor of the X-Wing. Its descendant looked very much like it, apart from his famous S-fins that opened to form an X in combat configuration. On the contrary, the Z-95 had only two wings and two KX-5 laser guns.
Nevertheless, the pirates had twelve of these fighters.
In the Harugi Spill's asteroid belt
Elon Vedij was the leader of the two TIE Fighters squadrons carried by the Far Orbit... he was also the younger brother of First Officer Dhas Vedij.
The face masked behind the black helmet of a TIE pilot, Elon was dodging with mastery the spinning asteroids that made up the asteroid belt.
No pirate fighter appeared on the radar.
"Leader at all, let's descend to the surface of the target asteroid. Group in pairs, look for the pirates' base!"
"Shiraz, Here, Control, answer me!"
"Read you very loud and clear," replied the pirate prince.
Cramped in the cockpit of the Z-95, he was constantly looking around, calmly inspecting the sensors of the fighter or looking outside the cockpit.
However, the landscape outside was not worth more than a glance. The asteroid was a lifeless boulder covered with gray sand, jagged mountains, and dusty plains streaked with canyons and meteorite craters.
"Shiraz, four TIEs arrive in your direction, they are divided into two pairs, the second following the first, into a classic recognition scan's formation."
"Got it!"
He spoke again, this time on the frequency of his wingers.
"Leader to S2 and 23, stay behind me. Decrease speed and go down to the ground, we'll join them through the canyons."
The other two pirates received. The 12 pirate fighters had split into four flights of three aircrafts that approached widely deployed. They had the advantage of the terrain since they trained in these canyons since Shiraz had set up his base on this planetoid. In addition, they were guided by the base sensors... which had a much higher range than the TIE fighters' sensors
When two TIEs appeared, followed a few hundred meters away by two other Imperial fighters, Shiraz laughed... the ambush was a success.
As he selected the lasers, a red circle appeared in the viewfinder, surrounding one of the TIEs. The Imperial pilot was not even aware of their presence. A real clay pigeon shot.
Shiraz smashed the fire button and the red beams of the lasers pierced TIE through.
The light fighter, almost unshielded, went off the rails and hit the canyon wall before exploding.
Shiraz wasted no time in seeing the effects of his first shot, immediately changing course to pursue the second TIE.
The Imperial Fighter shifted laterally to one side and then to the other to try to escape the lock, but Shiraz remained calm, and focused, waiting for the crosshair to turn red.
And with his thumb, he crushed the shooting button...
The laser beams hit the central ball at the ion turbines' height and the TIE instantly turned into an orange fireball.
At this point, multiple shots hit Shiraz's Z-95 and shook it violently. Fortunately, the shields successfully blocked the laser shots, although the silhouette of the Z-95 on the damage-control monitor represents the stern shields as a red and flashing circle... ready to collapse! The last two TIEs pursued the pirate prince except that... the first metamorphosed into an ephemeral sun... before a few seconds of shots that tore a solar panel to the last survivor. The fighter became uncontrollable and plunged towards the ground before exploding against a rock.
On the radio, Shiraz's two wingers exchanged jokes.
"He literally threw himself into my lasers!"
"He must have been suicidal".
"And then these fighters explode on the first shot, fragile as eggs"
Shiraz nodded.
"This is Shiraz, over to you Control, all our opponents have been eliminated. How are the others doing?"
The female voice of the pirate who coordinated the attack immediately resonated in the prince's helmet.
"Eleven TIE's have already been shot and two of our fighters have been damaged." After a brief moment of silence, Control took the floor again, "Shiraz, three of our fighters are engaged in combat against a group of six TIE to 20 Kliks of you, cap 45."
"Roger!"
For fighters as fast as the Z-95, 20 kilometers, it was like crossing the street for a pedestrian. As the pirates rushed toward their new targets, the first traces of the fight appeared in the form of red or green laser shots that crossed the sky.
Shiraz selected the missiles and waited for the firing computer to lock a TIE.
The two concussion missiles came out, swift red dots that caught up with a TIE that disintegrated into a blinding flash.
Shiraz abruptly changed course, avoiding green rays that streaked his trajectory, selected the lasers, locked another target, and fired. The fighter was almost cut in half and turned abruptly, command blocked before crashing against the wall of a canyon.
Turning his head, the pirate prince looked around, seeing nothing but Z-95s.
"Control? What's the situation?"
"Enemy down, 24 TIE Fighters down... losses for us, two Z-95, four more damaged. Ah, and you had four kills."
On board the Far Orbit a dead silence reigned, they had witnessed the ambush of the pirates but were too far to help the TIE pilots... once again the result of Kenit's inept orders.
The CAG turned to Vocis Kenit, avoiding looking towards Dhas Vedij, the poor man was pale.
"Sir, we have lost contact with the TIEs... the pirates likely have... eliminated all our fighters. Your orders, sir?"
Behind the commander of the Far Orbit, Dhas Vedij wavered. Elon was dead... his brother was dead. His father, Admiral Vedij, and his mother had died in a traffic accident on Coruscant... an accident that made disappear a hero of the Clone Wars who verbally opposed the retooling of the Imperial Fleet. For years, Dhas suspected that the Emperor himself had orchestrated this 'accident'.
Despite the fog obscuring his senses and reason, Dhas Vedij heard Kenit's voice.
"They were incompetent, unworthy of the Imperial Fleet! What losers! Lose to vulgar pirates!"
Unaware that Dhas Vedij was clenching his fists under the effect of anger while his face was deformed under the effect of deadly hatred, the captain of the Far Orbit turned to the helmsman.
"Set a course for the asteroid, I'll take care of these pirates myself."
Except that Vocis Kenit would never have the opportunity to show his tactical 'genius'...
Two hours had passed, and the Plaguebearer suddenly came out of hyperspace.
On the screen, Commissioner Notha looked at Vocis Kenit with contempt.
"I don't care what you say, Captain Kenit. The Imperial Security Bureau has agents on board the Far Orbit and one of them reported to me before I even contacted you. That's my order, the Far Orbit will move away from the Asteroid Belt. I think I should be able to get through this without your... so wonderfully effective help. You wanted the laurels for you, right? Don't worry, as you hoped, I'll write an evaluation of your... skills and send it directly to the Grand Vizier as soon as I get the Mandalorian Falcon back. I guarantee that your next assignment will be appropriate to your talent. I heard the Empire was looking for volunteers to keep the Talz slaves on Viquay. Perhaps the work of overseeing slaves will finally allow you to shine at your true value!"
Without another word, Notha cut off communication.
Designed by Loronar, the Strike-class cruiser was a prefabricated ship, designed in civil docks according to civil standards... and thus deprived of the usual redundancy of the electrical, electronic, and life support systems that characterized the warships.
The big flaw in this construction method was that the ship was very vulnerable to battle damage. One lucky shot could cripple entire systems.
The big advantage was that these ships were rather cheap, their modular design made them easily modified, adapting them to the most diverse missions: troop transports, escort fighter carriers, and planetary assault ships.
The final result was an elongated ship with segmented armor plates that made her vaguely look like a huge insect. The Plaguebearer was a 450-meter-long ship with a crew of 2,112 men and an armament consisting of 20 medium Turbolasers, 10 heavy Turbolasers, 10 ion guns, and 10 tractor-beam projectors (3).
The starship advanced majestically, destroying the asteroids in front of her bow while deploying a squadron of TIE Interceptors and Gamma-class assault shuttles.
Surprised, Shiraz looked at the blue hologram that had appeared above his dashboard.
"What the hell is that?"
The object was obviously a TIE, but the cockpit sphere seemed larger than the one of the fighter, the solar sails were larger, indented, and bent... plus four laser guns were integrated.
The voice of Control replied:
"I think it's a TIE Interceptor, a model of TIE that came into service less than a year ago. It is still very rare."
"In any case, we will quickly know what these new models are worth," said one of the pirates with an anxious voice.
Indeed, the lights of the Interceptors' ion engines were already visible.
"Leader to all fighters" intervened Shiraz, "Remember the training, stay close to the ground, cover your pals and... and especially do not hesitate to use concussion missiles. These bastards don't have shields."
In a howl of thrusters, the two groups of fighters threw themselves on each other while shooting lasers.
Shiraz dodged an attack by shifting to the right, went up steeply, and then fell vertically on the melee where fighters swirl in a dance where the slightest misstep was deadly. He selected the missiles and sent two projectiles to an Interceptor.
The TIE appeared to crumble, projecting fragments in all directions. Avoiding a solar panel twisted by the explosion, the pirate prince turned and positioned himself behind another TIE Interceptor that was chasing a pirate's Z-95. Selecting the lasers, Shiraz fired.
The Imperial pilot reacted immediately, turning to escape, but was hit. One of the Interceptor's engines was on fire. The pirate prince hung behind his prey, chasing it without letting it go. He shot again and again.
And...
The Interceptor exploded.
"This is Control, Imperial shuttles have landed in sector 3."
About to respond, the Mandalorian was suddenly plunged into darkness. Without thinking, the pirate looked up to discover the immense mass of a Strike cruiser, flying over the planetoid.
This time, Shiraz didn't see how he was going to get out.
He smiled...
Well, after all, he had always dreamed of an end like the heroes of his childhood songs.
Dying in bed was good for the weak, the spine-less guys who crawled out of bed every morning to bow down to rich people in exchange for a miserable salary...
"Shiraz to all the fighters, free-for-all. Try to escape! We meet again at Starforge... or in hell but in front of a glass of Corellian brandy! I buying drinks!"
(1) A rare variant of the TIE Fighter, externally identical to the standard fighter, but one of the TIE laser guns was replaced by an ion gun.
(2) These Soldiers of the Fleet wear the classic black uniform with shiny helmets, leather boots, and gloves... they are normal Soldiers of the Fleet like any others, but the term DepositSec that is attached to them is contemptuous. To be appointed to a Baas-class station, one must have been judged utterly inept at any other task than monitoring a supply depot in a remote area of the galaxy.
(3) By comparison, a Dreadnought-class cruiser measures 600 meters, has 16,204 crewmembers, 10 laser guns, 20 quad-lasers, and 10 heavy Turbolaser batteries, with armor and shields equivalent to a Strike-class cruiser... while being slower, less maneuverable, and more expensive to buy and maintain.