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Author	Topic: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OCs, OT, complete 6/17 (extras 6/24)
Thumper09 Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 2/19/08 6:40pm Subject: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OCs, OT, complete 6/17 (extras 6/24) - Date Edited: 7/19/08 1:16pm (19 edits total) Edited By: Thumper09
	Title: The Way Author: Thumper09 Timeframe: OT era, sometime between ANH and ESB Characters: OCs, mostly Imperials Genre: Drama Summary: An Imperial TIE pilot experiences a life-changing event. Notes: This story is my response to the "OC Project" in the Essential Guide to OCs thread. Without the effort put forth for that Project by ale and all the other collaborators, Chase wouldn't be around right now. In other words, I blame them. But seriously, thanks to all who made it happen. Updates will be made weekly on either Tuesdays or Wednesdays. Disclaimer: George still hasn't sold Star Wars to me, so I have to admit that it isn't mine. I'll put the universe back when I'm done. Constructive criticism is most welcome. Hit me with whatever you've got. ---------- "The Way" Prologue Chase Barton stared at the ceiling through the darkness while he lay in bed. The bedroom window was open as it was almost every night, allowing the fresh sea breeze to blow in off the bay. Chase inhaled deeply and savored the salty-smelling air. This assignment might have put him out on one of the farthest edges of the galaxy thousands of light-years from nowhere, but it was a million times better than the cramped, polluted conditions of Coruscant. From beside him, his half-asleep wife snaked her arm across his chest. "You still awake?" she mumbled, eyes closed. "Get some sleep." Chase laid his hand atop Lataise's and kept his voice quiet. "I will." His accent still betrayed the origin of the pilot in his mid-twenties, and his light brown military crew cut gave a less traitorous hint to his general profession. Lataise pried her eyes partway open and squinted at him. "You are awake. Can't you sleep?" With a shrug, Chase whispered, "Just thinking." "About what? It's too late to be thinking." "I'm working through some schedules in my mind. I think I can finish getting the baby's room painted before I leave if I come home during my lunch break today and work on it then." Chase already had gotten some of it done, and finishing it shouldn't take long; he had all the supplies he needed. The slight confusion in Lataise's green eyes showed that she was still not fully conscious. "You'll only be gone a few weeks. You'll have more than enough time to do it when you get back." Chase figured Lataise must really be tired if she thought this was something he would put off. It was too early in her pregnancy for her to even be showing yet, but that hadn't stopped him from diving headfirst into the preparations with her. Sometimes she even teased him that he was more excited about it than she was, and sometimes he wondered if that might be true. He hadn't thought it would be possible for him to adore his wife more than he already did, but when she had broken the news to him that the baby they'd been trying for for so long was finally on its way, he'd realized it truly was possible. He couldn't wait to be a father. He couldn't wait for Lataise to be a mother. This child was going to be special--it was going to be theirs--and he couldn't wait to share the galaxy with him or her and in turn see the wonders of the galaxy through his child's eyes. Life seemed more complete and meaningful with that prospect. Sure, they would have lots of time after Chase got back before the baby arrived, but so what? Chase smiled a bit and said, "I know. But I'm happy to do it. I want to." Chase leaned over and kissed her gently, then she enveloped him in a sleepy hug. Lataise soon fell back asleep with her head on his shoulder and her arm around him. Chase pulled the blanket up farther to protect her from the cool breeze, and then he softly brushed some stray strands of her mussed-up wavy brown hair away from her face. He simply watched her sleep for a while, trying to soak up the sight and ingrain every detail in his mind so he could remember it clearly while he was gone. He knew he should probably try to get some sleep, since morning would be there soon. With the morning would come one more day: one more day closer to when he had to leave. Let the morning wait. ---------- -----signature----- "Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method." -Karen Eiffel, _Stranger Than Fiction_ "Adamantine"--Rebel OC vig http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30390799
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Jade_Max Registered: Jun '02	Date Posted: 2/19/08 7:35pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era
	Interesting way to start a fic about Imperial Tie fighters.. showing that they're human lends a whole new dynamic to their backstory. This was a sweet opener but for me I got undercurrent of unease. Any time anyone thinks they have all the time in the world, it's like they're being set up to die... -----signature----- You'll Like me when I'm Dead - V/P Dark Drama - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29236355 Don't think, write. And have faith that your subconscious mind is smarter than you.- lazy RIP my babies; Nibbler, Boo & Mister Magoo
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Luton_Plunder Registered: Jun '06	Date Posted: 2/21/08 3:50pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era
	Hey Thumper! Sorry it's taken me so long to get here. This was a great start to the OC Project! Chase is brilliantly portrayed with the prospect of fatherhood making him a doting dad already. Already we can get a really good idea of what sort of a character he is. Loves his family - and even though it's a small detail, probably insignificant, I really appreciate the way you describe his thought process with an emphasis on protection. Thumper posted: Chase pulled the blanket up farther to protect her from the cool breeze Things like that, it really establishes the theme of keeping his family safe. Great job, just great Looking forward to more, count me in! If I could have a PM when a new update is posted, that'd be great - the link will be put up in the OC index in the next update, once the challenge is done. -----signature----- The Essential Guide to OCs. Say No to Mary. http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25562370/p1
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JediMindTrick000 Registered: Dec '04	Date Posted: 2/21/08 5:37pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era
	That's a fantastic start, Thumper. Mostly because of its all-too-realism. Being in the Navy with a wife, two little padawans already and hopefully another one on the way soon, I can say from personal experience you hit the nail right on the head with this one. Well done. -----signature----- World Builder Society - New Challenge 2/26! http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/22112407/ My latest attempt at literary excellence... Delusions of Grandeur - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28113194/
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The_Face Title: Ex-Manager Registered: Feb '03	Date Posted: 2/23/08 5:12pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era
	Great work, Thumper! Very nice job writing Chase and the missus – it’s clear they’re in love with each other, but you don’t give your readers cavities. And I think I’ve mentioned in the Guide already that I love the Imperial focus. If you’ll be having a PM list, I’d like to be on it. -----signature----- "Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." - E.L. Doctorow
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Thumper09 Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 2/26/08 6:23pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	Thanks to everyone for reading! Jade_Max: I like portraying Imperials (especially lower-ranked ones) as everyday people with a different outlook on the galaxy, and the OC Project™ helped encourage the creation of a (hopefully) sympathetic character. I'm glad Chase comes across as human. And of course they have all the time in the world. Nothing to worry about. Thanks for reading! Luton: I'm glad you picked up on those different aspects, because they're large parts of who Chase is. He's got to have some motivation for willingly climbing into a flimsy TIE Fighter, doesn't he? I'm glad to have you on board, and thanks for the R&R! JMT: Wow, thanks so much! Congrats on the potential third padawan. I try to get at least some semblence of military realism in my stories, but I know it won't all be perfect. Plus, this is the first time I'm writing organized Imperials in-depth instead of the sloppy, unorganized Rebels. If there's anything glaringly wrong, I would love to hear your insights on it so I can fix it. Thanks for the reply! Face: Better dental hygiene through OCs. I'm happy that it wasn't too over-the-top between Chase and his wife, and I'll do my best with the Imperial focus. Thanks a bunch for reading! w00t, my very first Update PM list...I guess that just goes to show how long it's been since I posted a multi-post story here, huh? I've got Face and Futon on it, and if anyone else would like to be included, just say the word. You can opt out at any time. (I can never think of PM lists without thinking of Season One of Heroes...) And now, a slightly longer post than the last one... -------- Chapter One The pair of TIE Fighters from Fireburner Squadron of the 321st Imperial Fighter Group followed their designated course through the interplanetary space of the Craci System. Chase's sensors were active as he and his wingman kept watch for any ships not on an approved flight path or which otherwise seemed suspicious. The system's location and situation made it susceptible to pirates and smugglers, and ever since the planetary defense satellites around the two inhabited planets had been destroyed, the Empire had stepped in to assist with protection of the populations. From inside the leading TIE Fighter, Chase looked around at the familiar starfield through his cockpit windows. "It's strange to think about, Four," Chase remarked to his wingman, Lieutenant Junior Grade Radek Deror, while addressing him by his squadron designation. "What is, Three?" Radek asked. "That this will be our last patrol out here for a while." "Eh, I don't care," replied Radek. "Nothing ever happens way out here, and patrols day after day are enough to drive you crazy. I'm really looking forward to some real action!" Chase meant it when he said, "I'm glad you're looking forward to it so much. I'm happy to do my part and all to make the galaxy safer, but I'll be glad to get back here when we're done with this temporary duty tour." He divided his visual attention between his sensors and the view outside while they talked. Chase loved challenging himself by navigating by sight; navigational instruments made the feat too easy. The pair passed the docking structure TIE pilots could use to board suspicious ships out in the interplanetary space. It marked the halfway point for their patrol lap, and Chase smoothly guided his TIE into a turn to their next checkpoint, still trying to maneuver and orient his flight path by sight alone. Radek kept perfect time beside him. "Yeah, I'll bet you won't be able to wait to get back," Radek said once their flight path straightened again. "Gotta get back to those smoochies smoochies, right? Right? Poor Junior Lieutenant Barton, gettin' himself no wife-lovin' for a few weeks." "My relationship with my wife is no concern of yours." "Right. Sure." Radek paused for a few moments, and then Chase saw Radek's TIE sidling closer to his own. "Gonna want someone close to you," Radek said. The fighter got closer. "Next to you." The TIE moved to within a handful of meters. "There with you. Right? Right?" "Four!" Chase jerked his TIE away. "Stop it. You know I hate it when you fly so close. It's dangerous." Over the comm, Chase heard Radek laugh before his wingman moved back to the standard flying position. Chase sighed a bit. Radek was a good guy, but Chase would never understand why Radek acted so juvenile sometimes. He'd be going on sublights to a promotion until he grew more mature. As the senior of the two, Chase was trying to set a good example for Radek in that regard, and he knew he must be doing something right because the commander had hinted at the possibility of a promotion for Chase soon. The extra money that a jump up to lieutenant would bring would be quite welcome on a planet with such a high cost of living and with a baby on the way, and he and Lataise were both hoping for it. Lataise was low in seniority at her own job and didn't make much money, and if they didn't live in the affordable base housing they would be having a lot more problems trying to make ends meet. The system traffic was quiet that day. After their next checkpoint, their turn brought the planet of Craci IV into sight. Beyond it lay the bright nearby stars of the Corporate Sector, an entire region of space run solely by money and totally lacking in Imperial military presence. The sole exception to that which proved the rule was the existence of the small Imperial military bases on the worlds of Craci III and Craci IV. The Craci System fell just within the Sector boundary, but the Cracians had long ago set up a business contract with the Corporate Sector Authority allowing them to govern themselves. Their relatively distant location helped their case, and enough money essentially bought their freedom from the CSA from year to year, with certain terms and conditions subject to negotiation. This political independence allowed the Empire to help them when their planetary defense satellites were destroyed without technically violating any parts of the Corporate Sector Charter that stated the Imperial military would not take up residence there. There were rumors around the base that there was really more to it than that, but Chase ignored them. They didn't matter. If the Empire wanted to spend the money to set up even small bases way out here far from other Imperial fleets and supply lines, that was their decision. He admittedly hadn't been happy about his squadron's transfer to such a remote place at first, and some of his squadmates like Radek still didn't like it, but gradually the cloudy planet before him had become a cozy home for Chase and his wife, a great place to start a family. They simply had to avoid the few isolated towns that had objected to the Imperials' presence and still contained pockets of unrest. Other Imperial bases on the planet were responsible for maintaining order in those locations. The system patrol drew to a close with no disturbances, and after being relieved by another wingpair from Fireburner Squadron, Chase and Radek flew back through the daytime clouds on Craci IV to their naval base on the edge of the city of Legis Bay. The two pilots landed, took off their life support gear, and spent some time filing their reports on the completed patrol. Afterward, they went to a quiet lounge to work on the outprocessing for their new temporary duty assignment. They'd been absorbed in it for about an hour when Radek spoke up. "Can you believe this?" he asked with a smile as he scribbled information in yet another form on a datapad. The pilot had dark hair that was very short but still curly, and eyes that seemed a little too large for his face. When he was excited about something, they got even larger, and they were that way now. "We're really going to be stationed on a Nebulon-B for five weeks! I wonder how many escort missions we'll end up doing. Those Rebels would be stupid to try anything with us there ready for 'em!" "You know they probably wouldn't be asking for our squadron's assistance unless they were getting lots of casualties in whatever area of space where they're escorting, right?" Chase asked. He was a bit less enthusiastic about the endless paperwork they were plowing through. Radek scoffed dismissively. "That's because we're not out there flying. Things will be different then. Then maybe once The Powers see how good the ol' 321st is, they'll transfer us off this rock to someplace more useful. This is our big chance!" "I don't know, I think we're plenty useful here." Chase finished Datapad Number Seven and reached for Number Eight. "We're protecting otherwise-defenseless civilians from the raiders going into the Corporate Sector after all that money. What more do you want?" "To blow up a Rebel or two." Radek grabbed Datapad Number Ten. "I'll be happier then, and the whole galaxy will be better off." "True." "Let the Cracians and the CSA worry about the raiders out here," Radek continued. "It's not our problem. When I signed up with the Navy I wanted to go after some Rebs, not babysit some wimpy far-flung planet." Chase had heard it all before. He muttered something noncommittal before tuning out Radek and continuing with his paperwork. Blast, his brother had told him to expect a lot of paperwork before going into full-blown front-line combat status again, but he certainly hadn't expected this... Chase cleared his throat slightly. His older brother Kane had been on the front lines in a TIE months ago, and despite being as great a pilot as he was, the Rebels had still managed to injure him and end his piloting days. Chase secretly was concerned about that as he filled out the information for who had legal power over his affairs if he should become incapacitated or killed during this deployment. If even Kane couldn't make it out unscathed, things didn't bode well for Chase. He coughed to clear a tickle in the back of his throat. "What's wrong?" Radek asked. Chase raised his eyes from his datapad. "What?" Radek, on the other hand, never looked up. "You're doing that thing." "What thing?" "You know, that...thing." "I don't know what you're talking about." Chase dropped the subject and turned back to his datapad as a new, more positive thought came to him. He had been in a couple of small fights with Rebels before being transferred out here, and while he'd been here he'd gotten into combat with pirates numerous times, but maybe Radek was right. Maybe this was his big chance. Maybe, just maybe, if Chase could make it through this more intense combat deployment, he could finally prove he was as good a pilot as Kane was. Maybe he wouldn't be able to take out four Rebels while his fighter was damaged like Kane said he did, but if he could destroy a few over the course of the deployment and come home in one piece, maybe that would be enough. Maybe his own less-than-stellar piloting skills wouldn't be tarnishing the shine on his brother's reputation any longer. Chase smiled at that thought. ***** The small base was a flurry of activity the next morning. Landspeeders loaded down with people and crates wound through the crowds of personnel and droids on foot. Some people were riding the native Cracian thumper workbeasts through the activity more quickly than landspeeders could manage, and others led pack thumpers to various destinations to unload their burdens. Every person and machine seemed to be going a different direction and doing it in a hurry. Many were converging on the general area of the operations building at the edge of one of the landing pads. Crates of equipment and baggage and spare parts were being loaded onto a shuttle to be taken up to orbit to the waiting capital ship. Mechanics swarmed the squadron of TIE Fighters, finishing the final preps and fueling before the starfighters would also fly up to that capital ship. The mechanics would follow on a transport afterwards. Even though he was standing at ground zero of the chaos just outside the operations building, Chase didn't notice any of it; he was too busy going for a new record on the longest hug he had ever given his wife. Lataise was all too happy to assist him in that record-breaking attempt. Chase didn't even know how long they had been standing there close together with their arms wrapped around each other, their eyes closed and their heads resting against the other. All he knew was that he never wanted to let go. "Hey, Lover Boy." Radek's voice punctured Chase's mental bubble. "Come on, hurry up, we're waiting on you. I want to get off the ground! Let's go!" Chase took a deep breath. "Radek," he said in a steady, matter-of-fact voice, "if you're still here in one second, I will hurt you." "Right. Sure," Radek muttered. His footsteps moved away. Chase sighed, opened his eyes and pulled back from Lataise's embrace. "Leave it to Radek to ruin things," he grumbled. "Sure, it's annoying, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it," Lataise replied. "You watch out for him out there: you know he's going to need it. You're the responsible one of the two." "Yeah. And who knows, maybe he'll grow up a little out there," Chase said. He could only hope. Lataise looked over Chase's shoulder at the landing pad operations, and her voice sounded a bit strangled when she said, "He was right, though--it looks like they're just about ready for you." Lataise locked a frightened gaze with his. "Be careful, Chase. I need you to come home." Chase tried to sound as firm as he could, even though his voice was threatening to break as well. He cleared his throat and said, "I will. Don't worry. If you think I'm going to miss out on raising our child and spending the rest of my life with you, you're sorely mistaken. Do you remember everything we talked about yesterday?" Lataise nodded, but she tempered that with, "It was just a lot easier to deal with yesterday when I still had all those hours between then and now." "Everything's going to be fine," Chase repeated as much to himself as to her. "You'll be fine and I'll be fine, and I'll see you right here in five weeks. Now, you have all the emergency contact numbers, the numbers for my family, all the pertinent people here on base in case you should need anything while I'm gone..." Lataise nodded again and furiously blinked back tears. "Right by the comlink. The base and the town will take good care of us here. Just take good care of you. I love you." She pulled him into a long kiss. The pilot at last had to break the kiss to take a breath. "I love you too," Chase said softly. He smiled at her, gently brushed his fingers against her cheek to wipe away an escaped tear, then reluctantly turned and walked into the operations building. It's only five weeks, he told himself to prevent his feet from turning him around and going back to her. It's only five weeks. You'll be back soon. The words helped his stride, but they didn't fill up the void that materialized in the pit of his stomach. He discreetly wiped first one eye and then the other before anyone noticed. Chase made his way through the operations building past all the people working on getting things together for this deployment, stopped briefly in the now-empty locker room to put on his flight gear over his black flightsuit, and walked out the other side through a security checkpoint to the landing pad. His squadron leader, Commander Tabb Wiantance, stood amid the racks of TIEs and directed last minute activities. "Hurry up, Barton," Wiantance barked when he noticed Chase. "Get in your fighter and get ready to go." "Yes, sir," Chase replied, and obeyed. He performed his exterior preflight inspection with his crew chief, climbed into his spherical cockpit, donned his helmet and powered up the fighter and his flightsuit's life support system. Everything looked good on the internal preflight too. His TIE was in excellent condition, as always. Then there was nothing to do but wait for the commander to be ready and give the order to launch. "I can't wait," Radek transmitted over a private comm frequency from his own TIE. "So I've noticed," Chase replied. "You think the commander will mind if I don't wait for him and just launch now?" "Take a nice, deep breath of that recycled oxygen, Radek," Chase said. "You're always too quick to want the next big, flashy, exciting activity. We need to get you a girlfriend so you can settle down somewhere." "Hey, no one's gonna tie ol' Radek down!" his wingman exclaimed. "Hey, did you get that? Tie? TIE? Right? Right?" "So you used the same word as the fighter name. So?" Radek heaved a sigh. "Why do I even bother. It's wasted on you. Where's Fikri? He'll laugh." The comm channel closed, and Chase figured Radek was now dialing in the private comm frequency to their squadmate Fikri. At last Commander Wiantance had everything set, and he gave the order for the 321st to launch. The TIEs lifted up and moved out in precise formation, and the concentration Chase needed for that activity thankfully prevented him from thinking about much else as they left. Once they were clear of the landing pad structures, they pointed upwards and streaked through the grey cloud layers of Craci IV. After breaking through the ceiling, the greyish-blue sky stretched in all directions. Soon it got darker and eventually faded to black. Stars appeared, and then the starfighters were in orbit. Ahead of the squadron was an old Victory-class Star Destroyer. It wasn't much to look at, but luckily they wouldn't be on it for very long; it was only meant as their ride from the Corporate Sector to the rendezvous point with the Nebulon-B Frigate they were to be stationed on for the next few weeks. Chase idly wondered what was in store for them. "I can't wait!" Radek transmitted over the private frequency again. -------- -----signature----- "Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method." -Karen Eiffel, _Stranger Than Fiction_ "Adamantine"--Rebel OC vig http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30390799
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JediMindTrick000 Registered: Dec '04	Date Posted: 2/26/08 6:45pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	When I signed up with the Navy I wanted to go after some Rebs, not babysit some wimpy far-flung planet. Kinda reminds me of my own sentiments. I joined the Navy to blow some stuff up, but really I just go around in circles for a few months and come back. Fantastic update. Your depiction of the military is actually right on. Those farewells are the hardest part, no doubt. And those conversations you wrote were all too realistic. and I tell you what, you say "only five weeks" ahead of time, but man oh man do they turn out to be a long five weeks. Definitely add me to your PM list. -----signature----- World Builder Society - New Challenge 2/26! http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/22112407/ My latest attempt at literary excellence... Delusions of Grandeur - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28113194/
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Arcalian Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 2/26/08 7:28pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	Very, Very Good. You have my attention. The TIE pilots were the one imperial rank that always interested me. Put me on the PM list, please.... -----signature----- Arcalian If you don't take yourself seriously, who else will? http://arcalian.deviantart.com/ http://idlewilder.proboards54.com/index.cgi?
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Luton_Plunder Registered: Jun '06	Date Posted: 2/28/08 3:58pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	Aha! I'm getting the impression that Radek is looking forward to being deployed elsewhere hehe. Very well handled Thumper! It was a very good introduction to the squad culture, and it was great to see TIE pilots bantering like regular people as opposed to being faceless bad guys. Putting masks over their face was a masterstroke by Lucasfilm so that when the triumphant good guys killed all those pilots they wouldn't look like people. I have a sneaking suspicion you're going to deconstruct that misconception Oh, and nice thread-weaving between Chase's wife-life and his issues with his brother. Personal conflicts, ahoy Looking forward to the next post! And sorry this reply took so long. It's the rain's fault, I promise -----signature----- The Essential Guide to OCs. Say No to Mary. http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25562370/p1
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reagan64 Registered: Feb '06	Date Posted: 2/28/08 9:21pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	It's nice to see another Imperial Military-themed story on the boards! Your OCs are great, very 'alive.' It really make me want to learn more about them. Keep up the good work. -----signature----- TIE Fighter: Unknown Regions: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/25329844/p1/?2
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The_Face Title: Ex-Manager Registered: Feb '03	Date Posted: 3/2/08 1:46pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 2/26
	I can never think of PM lists without thinking of Season One of Heroes...) Ah yes. “Save the Private Message; save the board.” The words helped his stride, but they didn't fill up the void that materialized in the pit of his stomach. Lines like this really put us into Chase’s shoes. You’ve done an awesome job here with giving the reader a connection with our hero and portraying the TIE Fighter pilots very realistically and sympathetically. Fantastic start, Thumper! -----signature----- "Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." - E.L. Doctorow
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Thumper09 Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 3/4/08 7:02pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 3/4
	JMT: Thanks for your comments! It's hard for me to find a good balance with scenes like the farewells. And Chase is going to start feeling that time drag by pretty soon. Radek, on the other hand, is the exception to the rule. Thanks for reading! Arcalian: Thanks for the compliment. I agree, TIE pilots are pretty neat (and aside from Fel, very underused, IMHO). Thanks for reading! L_P: Poor Radek, dreading deployment as much as he is. I will do my best to prove that TIE pilots are people too. In doing so, I will attempt to undermine everything that Lucasfilm has built on their "masked bad guy" foundation. Next stop: stormtroopers. Thanks for the R&R! Send some of that rain my way--the lawn looks icky. Well, ickier than usual. reagan64: I'm always surprised that there's not more Imperial-themed fiction on the boards since I know a lot of people who are fascinated by the Empire. Thank you very much for the compliment and for reading! Face: Heh heh, yeah, that and all the stuff about Dr. Suresh's List too. Darn cool show. I'm really glad Chase is turning out to be connectable (is that a word?) and realistic. Thanks a bunch for the reply! Okay, now that most of the background is done... --------- Chapter Two Chase Barton stared at the ceiling from where he lay on his bunk. Blast, he was tired. He hadn't been sleeping well on these rock-hard so-called "mattresses" in the bunks his squadron had on the Nebulon-B Nashtah...or at least, that was what he told people. He turned onto his stomach and looked at the wall at the head of his bed. He had taken holos of Lataise, Kane, his older sister Jina, his parents and a few good friends, including one he had attended the Imperial Naval Academy with, and printed them out on flimsi sheets and adhered them there to the wall. Another picture was of the group of kids he and some other adults were teaching to camp back on Craci IV. All of the kids and adults had signed it and wished him luck on his combat deployment. And finally, there was a piece of flimsi on which Lataise had written a date: 32 Yelona. The pilot reached out and traced the writing with his fingertips. That was the day when, at long, long last, they were expecting their first child. He felt some of Radek's impatience rubbing off on him as he thought about how far off that date still was. His gaze found its way back to Lataise's picture. It had only been a week, but already he was counting down the days until he would be back home. And even though it had been a week, he could still taste that last kiss she gave him. Chase closed his eyes and lived that moment over aga-- His chrono beeped, signaling the imminent beginning of his duty shift. Chase grumbled at the interruption as he opened his eyes and silenced his alarm. He climbed down from his top bunk and walked past the other Fireburners' bunks on his way out of the sleeping quarters to the hangar. He had to concentrate on his job now. Besides, Chase was certain that his wandering thoughts of what was happening back home would keep him awake tonight as they had the other nights. There would be time enough to contemplate things on the homefront then. The flight he was in was due to launch on a patrol soon and scout out the area around the planet where the small fleet would be refueling. The refueling wouldn't take long, as most of the ships were small cargo transports without the capacity to hold a large amount of fuel, but it was also a time when they were vulnerable, and the job of Nashtah and the TIEs aboard her was to protect them. In an area of space where Rebel attacks were becoming more frequent, the captain of Nashtah was insisting on a security recon patrol. There was a small room near the hangar where details of patrols were ironed out between the participants before they left, and when Chase got there he found the other three members of the flight already present. Commander Wiantance and his wingman, Lieutenant Panas, were sitting at the table and chatting with Radek. They all looked up as Chase entered. "Ah, Barton, good. Right on time. Have a seat, and we'll get started," Wiantance said. Radek smirked while Chase grabbed a chair. "Where were you? Re-reading all the good parts in a letter from your wife?" Chase shot a quick glare at his wingman. "Do you mind?" he asked, somewhat sharply. What a stupid comment for Radek to make, and right in front of the commander, no less. Chase felt that promotion slipping a little farther out of reach. Wiantance ignored the exchange and instead passed out datacards with the patrol details to everyone. "Let's get going here. Panas, doublecheck the comm frequencies and procedures when we get to that point in the review. Barton, same as always, check our navigation vectors. Deror, optimal sensor frequencies and modes." It was a straightforward enough patrol plan, and in fact was a variation on the familiar system patrols the squadron had done back in Cracian space. It wasn't too long before the four TIE pilots were done with the details, in their starfighters and ready to go. The fleet had stopped at the edge of the system. As they left the hangar of Nashtah Chase saw their destination planet far ahead of them. When they got closer he was able to tell that the planet was a gas giant, though a bit on the small side as gas giants go, and it was a brownish-orange color. The refueling docks orbited the planet, and the TIE's sensors picked up some tiny rocky moons. Only one of those moons was large enough for Chase to see with his own eyes. The flight split as planned, and each wingpair headed off around the planet in a different direction. Chase led the way to their assigned hemisphere, the one nearest the large moon. He kept his sensors at full power and his eyes open. If they missed a sign of a threat, thousands of lives in their fleet could be lost. At last Radek spoke up after a thorough sensor sweep. "I've got nothing anomalous on my sensors, Three." "Same here, Four," Chase replied. "There's just one more place we have to check." "Where?" "That moon. Perfect raider hideout. Stay alert. Let's go." As they approached the pockmarked moon, Chase ran through a few things in his mind. If there was anyone waiting there to spot large fleets coming in to the fueling docks, they would be watching toward the eastern side of the moon, which was in the direction of the somewhat distant hyperspace lane, the general direction of the planet and the direction of the moon's rotation. If this was a large enough operation, there would be at least two people stationed there on diametrically opposite sides of the moon, so their targeted area would always be in view to at least one of them regardless of the moon's rotation. He'd seen pirates do it before. Often they would be listening in to the refueling stations' approach frequencies too. Chase adjusted his course to approach the moon with the system's star at his back. Radek stuck with him. If the TIEs' sensors hadn't found anything yet, chances were that the pirate ships, if any existed, were powered down to avoid detection and the people were only watching with their eyes or short-range, passive sensors. It was possible the small Imperial starfighters could have been noticed already, but if not and if raiders on the moon had to look into the sun to see the TIEs, the TIEs could probably move in close undetected. "Four," Chase said, "if this is like other pirate ops there might be one on each side of the moon, if there is anyone there. You take the lit hemisphere. I'll take the night side. Go in from the west, counter-rotation. Call if you need anything." "Copy that, Three." Radek throttled up and passed him. For his part, Chase changed course out of the equatorial plane and up to the northern polar area of the moon. He spiraled high above, getting a look at what was below. Craters were everywhere, and all of them were swallowed in nighttime shadow. This would be an excellent place for a raider hideout, and the more Chase thought about that, the more uneasy he felt. He wouldn't be able to see anything hiding down in a dark crater, especially if the ship was powered down like he suspected it would be, and he recalibrated his sensors to look for localized concentrations of materials that were different from the lunar terrain instead of for energy signatures. Then he picked an optimal route to take him from north polar orbit to western equatorial orbit with minimal energy and therefore minimal engine exhaust glow, and he started searching. The night side of the uninhabited moon was pitch black. Even the soft illumination from Chase's fighter console displays hurt his eyes after a few moments. Maybe it was the total darkness or maybe it was his experience telling him the high probability that something could be out there, but he didn't like it. He licked his lips to moisten them, then decided to turn on his fighter's communications jammer. It was preset to the general range of frequencies that Rebels often used--independent raider frequencies were anyone's guess--and even though the jammer used a lot of power it was a sacrifice he was willing to make at this time. The last thing he wanted was to be the trigger that made any Rebels he found call in for their fleet before he had a chance to silence them. Better to prevent the call altogether. Chase had covered about one-third of the area when his sensor screen started flashing. He called up another sensor mode, which quickly resolved the data and displayed the information. There was a Y-wing ahead of him in a crater, almost completely powered down. His sensors were just picking it up over the crater rim now. Its IFF transponder was not transmitting any identification data. The Imperial didn't hesitate. He throttled up and maneuvered to point-blank range above the Y-wing. As he approached, his sensors told him the starfighter was powering up quickly: apparently it had noticed him too. But it wasn't quick enough. Chase made sure to stay away from where the dorsal turret was pointing as he transmitted over an open comm frequency, "Unidentified Y-wing, by order of the Empire you are to power down your ship and surrender. If you do not comply immediately, I will open fire. Your shields are down, you're stationary, and I'm at point-blank range. I will not miss. Don't make me shoot." He couldn't tell from the sensor readings if this was a Rebel Y-wing or if it was a Y-wing owned by any number of raiding groups or even planetary defense forces. Anything legitimate shouldn't be cozied up hiding out here on this moon, though. He watched his sensor readings carefully, making note of the turret position, the energy levels, and anything out of the ordinary. The energy levels stopped increasing, but they did not decrease either. A static-filled reply came over the open frequency and asked, "And why shouldn't I think an Imperial is going to shoot me even if I do comply?" "If I had wanted to shoot you regardless of your actions, I wouldn't have even bothered giving you a choice. Now enough talking. Power down." Chase kept his TIE moving enough to not be a completely easy target for any weapons or allies he might have missed, and he kept his own weapons trained on the Y-wing below him. The energy levels of the Y-wing began dropping. Chase smiled tightly. "That's better." Once only enough energy remained for life support in the Y-wing, Chase punched in the encrypted frequency to his squadron leader. "Lead, Three," he said. "I've captured a suspicious Y-wing on the nighttime surface of the largest moon. Requesting support from Nashtah to come and retrieve the prisoner. I'm jamming Rebel frequencies, though I'm not certain if this ship is Rebel. A raider party might still show up." "Good work, Three. I'll contact Nashtah immediately, and I'll also tell Four to come assist you. He reported destroying a Y-wing on the day side of the moon a minute ago. Nice scouting work, both of you. Keep your eyes open. Two and I are continuing sweeps in case something arrives. Lead out." Wiantance's words bothered Chase, but he kept quiet and concentrated on guarding his captured Y-wing until he noticed Radek approaching. Chase turned to the private frequency he shared with his wingman. "Four, Lead said you destroyed a Y-wing on the other side of the moon. What happened?" "Ha, that's right, I sure did, Three," Radek replied, his voice full of pride. "He never knew what hit him. One more kill marker for me. Want me to take care of yours too?" "No. And watch the turret." "You're no fun. It's easier to just shoot them. Solves so many problems." It was true that there was less paperwork to fill out for a kill than a capture, but... "Four, we have not confirmed yet who these Y-wings are." Chase reminded himself to stay focused on watching his sensor readouts of the Y-wing; it was easy to get distracted by Radek. "They might not have been involved in anything, which means it was unnecessary and even dangerous for you to start a shooting match. And besides, I'm not going to shoot at someone who can't defend themselves. I caught this guy flat-footed." "Oh, if only our enemies were as noble as you, we wouldn't even be in this war!" Radek said melodramatically. Then his voice grew serious again. "Look, the way I see it, if I get him before he has a chance to get me, that's one less chance he has to get me. Right? Right?" Chase didn't necessarily agree with that line of thinking, but it was pointless to debate it with Radek, and not something he should be doing anyway while guarding a potentially dangerous prisoner in a starfighter. He dropped the subject and simply said, "Go scan the rest of the nighttime surface and let me know when the shuttle from Nashtah is on its way for the prisoner." "Right, Three." Radek sounded a bit hurt or confused, but he flew off, leaving Chase alone with the Y-wing. Lt.j.g. Barton again gave the captured starfighter his undivided attention, aside from a few stray thoughts. No matter what Radek said, though, Chase was comfortable with his decision to not blow apart the Y-wing on a whim at the first encounter. Something about that method of surprise killing of people, even enemies, when they didn't see it coming and had absolutely no chance to defend themselves just seemed cold-blooded and wrong. Even in war. The galaxy had to have order restored, but there were right ways to do it. That wasn't one of them. -------- -----signature----- "Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method." -Karen Eiffel, _Stranger Than Fiction_ "Adamantine"--Rebel OC vig http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30390799
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yodas_waiter Registered: Oct '06	Date Posted: 3/6/08 10:24am Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 3/4
	Very interesting start to the story. I've just finished reading Death Star which depicts the always not so interesting life of a TIE pilot and you too have capture that feeling very well, if not better than the authors of the book! I love Chase too, he is a very sympathetic character. Can't wait to see what happens with these shifty looking Y-Wings. Well done Thumper! -----signature----- Padawan to Sionnach-Airgid Author of Chyler databank entry Nominated Best New Author in Before the Saga 06/07 The Enforcer (SW Super-hero tribute): http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28028864/p1/?2
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The_Face Title: Ex-Manager Registered: Feb '03	Date Posted: 3/6/08 2:08pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 3/4
	I'm liking the time you're taking to put a lot of detail into Chase's character. The Y-wing incident worked nicely to show the differences between him and Radek. Excellent update! Thanks for the PM (the Imperial signature is a particularly nice touch ). -----signature----- "Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." - E.L. Doctorow
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Arcalian Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 3/9/08 9:39pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 3/4
	I get the sinking feeling that if Chase keeps going on and on about the "right way to create Order" that Radek is sooner or later going to start thinking he might be a Rebel sympathizer. Oh, I think Radek is a real @#$@@% in case you hadn't noticed. Heh. The Y-Wing Pilot's response is perfectly in character for a Rebel, too. -----signature----- Arcalian If you don't take yourself seriously, who else will? http://arcalian.deviantart.com/ http://idlewilder.proboards54.com/index.cgi?
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Thumper09 Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 3/11/08 7:24pm Subject: RE: The Way -- Imperial TIE Pilots, OC Project, OT era, updated 3/11
	yodas_waiter: Aw, now you're gonna make me blush. Thanks for the compliment. I've heard some interesting things about Death Star. Unfortunately we're done with those particular shifty-looking Y-wings as the rest of that activity was status quo on the Imperials' end, but there's always more where that came from. Thanks for reading! Face: For some reason I've always been more comfortable writing longer stories like this as opposed to viggies, and in this case too it took me a while to get a handle on Chase. All of that kind of resulted in going slow at the beginning like this, but I'm glad it's working. I'm still trying to figure out how I want to do these update PM's, but I am fond of that Imp signature. Thanks, and thanks for reading! Arcalian: ...that Radek is sooner or later going to start thinking he might be a Rebel sympathizer. Possible. Possible. I know some of the Fireburner pilots would agree with you regarding Radek's personality, LOL. Thanks for reading! --- Now...Chapter Three. In a story where 94% of it is outside the realm of what I usually write, this chapter was by far the hardest. I'm still not entirely happy with some parts, and please don't hesitate to let me know of any problems with it. I've also been going back and forth on whether to post the whole chapter or break it up. Posting the whole chapter means it's a long update, but breaking it up messes up next week and doesn't really work either. So I'm posting the whole thing and just warning you all up front that it's longer than my more "normal" updates. It figures that it's the chapter with Chase's designation number that's causing me the most problems. -------------- Chapter Three A week and a half and two small skirmishes later, Nashtah had placed its on-duty TIE pilots on alert as the fleet had come out of hyperspace at an Imperial transfer point in the late morning. As per standard operating procedures, Chase and the other pilots had been fully suited up and staying in the hangar near their ships. It was the perfect breeding ground for a continuation of the squadron's latest internal debate when the commander and executive officer weren't in earshot. "I can't believe I actually agree with Deror," one of the pilots was saying. "We know that Y-wing was up to no good or it wouldn't have been hiding on that moon. You should have shot it, Barton." "Yeah. What if it had gotten away? It could have taken out both of you. It was a totally unnecessary risk to not eliminate the threat once and for all," another added. Chase was tired of all the flak he'd been getting from some of his squadmates over his actions on that patrol. He crossed his arms. "I stand by my decision," he said stubbornly. "In that situation, it was the proper thing to do." "Are you guys still going at this?" a third pilot piped up. "Didn't it ever occur to you that live prisoners equal a source of information we can use? We've had many, many Imperial lives saved because of what we've learned from captured enemies." "But we wouldn't need--" The discussion was interrupted by the deafening blare of Nashtah's battlestations sirens. The pilots ran to their fighters as the ship-wide intercom announced the call to battlestations and incoming fire. The hangar instantly snapped into organized chaos. Chase's crew chief told him his TIE was good to go as Chase ran past him and climbed into the cockpit. While the hatch closed, Chase put on his helmet, strapped himself in and finished powering up the few systems the crew chief hadn't had a chance to get to yet. When he turned on his comm system, his headset instantly bombarded him with the talk and instructions coming over his squadron's frequency. In a minute the 321st Fireburners reported ready, and they began to launch into space. Nashtah's other TIE squadron, one from the 487th Imperial Fighter Group, was launching behind them except for the flight that had already been out on patrol when the fleet came out of hyperspace. When Chase and Radek cleared Nashtah's hangar, Chase noticed that the four TIE pilots who had been patrolling were not showing up anywhere on sensors. That was the last chance he had to think about them before he and the rest of the Fireburners were face-to-face with a squadron of X-wings. A loud, harsh tone sounded in Chase's cockpit. His stomach plummeted as it did every time he heard that particular sound in the sims or in real life, and almost instantly a squadmate confirmed the missile lock indication by calling over the comm, "Torpedoes incoming!" Chase immediately threw his fighter into evasive maneuvers to try to break the lock a proton torpedo had on his TIE. The Rebel X-wings were not formed up, but they had all turned to face the Fireburners and were bearing down on them. Flashes of light from the X-wings ahead told Chase they had just fired their torpedoes. His heart would have stopped at that sight if it had had any time to do so. He couldn't consciously remember what he did with the flight controls and the throttle to get his TIE away from being the focus of that torpedo, but in one second Chase's TIE was in a different location and orientation than it had been, he saw a torpedo go flashing past his cockpit closer than any had ever been before, and then his fighter was buffeted by a few explosions from different sides. The sickening tone stopped, and Chase quickly checked his sensors to see if the torpedo was circling around to come back at him from behind, but it seemed like its lock was broken. He exhaled. The X-wings were right on the heels of their torpedoes, and Chase barely had time to recover from the first before he had to deal with a head-to-head run from the second. He managed to get one shot off at the nearest X-wing before he had to jerk his TIE out of the line of return fire. Just like that, the X-wings were past them, and they were clear. Immediately Chase pulled his TIE into a hard turn, one much sharper than any X-wing could match, and tried to loop around and settle on the tail of the X-wings before they could turn around. It was a standard tactic, and around him Chase saw the rest of the squadron following suit as Commander Wiantance focused them and got them to regroup. Short, clipped reports began to come in over the comm: four Fireburner pilots had been lost in that first attack run by the X-wings. To Chase's relief, he saw Radek pull up beside him, apparently undamaged. The Imperials got within optimal firing range, and the Rebel fighters broke by pairs and went evasive. Chase picked an X-wing pair as a target, transmitted his choice to Radek, and the two of them began their pursuit. Over the comm, Chase also heard the commander of the 487th trying to coordinate things with Wiantance. Some Y-wings were blasting a couple of the Imperial cargo transports with ion cannons while a Dreadnaught occupied Nashtah's attention by exchanging fire. Some shuttles were flying from the Dreadnaught to the Imperial transports. The 487th went to deal with the Y-wings and shuttles while the 321st was left to handle the X-wings. Chase and Radek knocked out one of the X-wings' shields before another Rebel pair came to help and forced the two Imperials to disengage. They went evasive for a short time and managed to lose their attackers. X-wings just couldn't match the maneuverability of a TIE. As the TIEs joined back up, Chase saw an X-wing immediately ahead that was firing at a lone Fireburner. He called Radek's attention to it and turned to pursue while Radek flew on his wing and voiced his approval of their new target selection. "Good, Three. Let's go chase him down." "Stow it!" Chase snapped. Again with the name jokes. Enough was enough, damn it. Chase settled on the Rebel's tail and fired a few salvos. One shot missed but the rest splashed against the Rebel's shields. The X-wing promptly began to jink and juke to throw off Chase's aim. It didn't do it well enough, though, since Chase's next shot hit its shields again. "How we looking, Four?" Chase asked distractedly. "You're clear, Three," Radek replied. "Finish him off, unless you want me to." "I got it." Chase followed up those words with another set of laser blasts. One took out the rest of the X-wing's shields. The X-wing evaded more desperately, but Chase managed to stick with it. A few more shots missed, and then two lasers from Chase's TIE hit the Rebel's engines. The X-wing exploded into a fireball, and Chase smiled tightly. There was a little bit of payback for the squadmates he'd just lost. He hadn't even had a chance yet to find out who had been killed, but maybe that was just as well for the moment. "Good shooting, Three," Radek said. "There's another pair over at 312 mark 07." "Then let's go," Chase replied. He and Radek turned that direction. Before they got there, Chase glanced at his sensor console and noticed that two X-wings were coming at them from their starboard side. He again called Radek's attention to them and began to turn to-- A bright flash, a deafening noise, and Chase's TIE was violently thrown in a different direction and spinning wildly out of control. Sharp pain shot through Chase's shoulder and chest where restraint straps forcefully imparted his fighter's new momentum to him, but a surge of adrenaline quickly washed it from his mind. Cockpit alarms blared. Red diagnostic alert lights made it look like his entire cockpit was bleeding. Training kicked in, helping to hold the instinctive fear at bay. Get leverage inside the cockpit against the spin. Fight the g-forces. Start the techniques that help keep blood in the brain to prevent passing out. Find the throttle. Find the flight controls. Decrease power. Get out of the spin. Fight the spin. Get out of the spin. Get out of the spin. Chase swept his gaze over all his instruments while trying to regain control of his fighter, and in doing so it was easy to see his flickering, erratic sensor readouts. They showed him a new danger: an X-wing was coming right for him. It could easily finish him off in this state. Just when Chase thought he was done for, the sensors also provided him with a green dot representing Radek's TIE moving in toward the oncoming X-wing. The X-wing broke off its attack. "Damn. Thanks, Four," Chase said shakily. Despite how obnoxious he could be at times, Radek was a good guy. Back to the more pressing crisis. Stop the spin. Fight the spin. Isolate systems. Prevent more damage. Call for help. "Mayday, mayday! Fireburner Three needs assistance. Declaring emergency!" Chase continued to fight with his TIE as it stubbornly refused to let him bring it back under control, and he waited for an answer. None came. He tried again. Again, nothing. Come to think of it, he wasn't hearing anything on the squadron frequency anymore. It wasn't static from a jammer, it was just dead, nonexistent. A quick look at the diagnostics confirmed that one of those red lights was associated with the comm system. Chase swore. Outside his viewport, the galaxy continued to tumble chaotically. He caught a glimpse of part of the dogfight and part of the fleet. He also saw that his TIE's port wing had been sheared off by the X-wing's lasers. Not only did that cut his available engine and electrical power from the solar panel wings in half, it also completely threw off his fighter's center of gravity. Chase changed his control tactics, firing the ion maneuvering jets in different experimental ways to see how they reacted to the different CG, since they certainly weren't behaving like normal. The engine-fed jets were much weaker than normal, too. At last he found a technique that began to counter the spin and slow his fighter. Chase desperately stuck with it, and finally the TIE was relatively placated. It was still drifting and spinning, but it was a slow drift and an even slower spin. It was the best he could get. Chase closed his eyes for a few moments and again called for help while he waited for his dizziness to subside. Again, there was no answer. He tried resetting his comm system, changing frequencies and adjusting settings, but nothing seemed to help. He was just about to try some bypassing and power shunting when his slowly spinning view afforded him a look at the dogfight he had drifted out of. He saw a couple of the Imperial transports blink into hyperspace. Then the last few did as well. Nashtah, the only remaining Imperial target, was continuing to fire at the Rebel ships pounding it mercilessly as the Nebulon-B maneuvered and picked up speed. A last pair of TIE Fighters desperately streaked into the hangar, a bit too fast for normal safe operations, and mere seconds after they were aboard, the Nebulon-B also disappeared into hyperspace. Chase paused his troubleshooting as the implications of what he'd just witnessed began to sink in. His TIE slowly rotated his cockpit windows far enough that the Rebel ships and the place where his fleet had been were no longer in sight. He was alone. Without a hyperdrive on his fighter, he was stranded there in interstellar space. Without a working comm, no one would know he was alive and needed help. He was dead. The only ones still there were the Rebels. With a shaky hand and a few clearings of his throat, Chase reached forward and turned off his IFF and emergency beacon so the Rebels wouldn't detect it and would have a harder time finding him. If they did, most likely they would just blow him out of the sky, but the other option wasn't any better. Everyone knew about the horrible things they did to their prisoners, and he was not going to let himself be captured if he had any say in the matter. Activity meant there was no room for thinking. For the next few minutes Chase worked through checklists to assess his fighter's condition and salvage what systems he could. Most of them were down or at less than half capacity. Power was down to 23% and was slowly decreasing. He had no weapons. Engines were at 9%. His personal biological diagnostics had somewhat better news, but the adrenaline was wearing off and he was beginning to notice the injuries more. It felt like his left collarbone and a few ribs were broken where the restraint straps pressed against them, and he had jammed his left elbow hard against something in the initial hit as well. Chase was quickly growing more and more reluctant to move his left arm, and he soon stopped doing so unless it was absolutely necessary. Before too long he also tried to minimize head and neck motion and anything that put pressure on his ribs. On another slow rotation, Chase looked out his viewport again and saw that the Rebel ships had left. He breathed a little more easily, then turned his IFF and emergency beacon back on. He noticed with dismay that they used up a lot of his available power, and he'd need a good amount of it to transmit a signal if he ever got the comm working again. He nudged his TIE around to have the intact starboard solar panel wing point as much as possible to the brightest star he could see. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. He turned off all nonessential systems that hadn't already been destroyed, and that stopped most of the power drain, but not all of it. Power was still inexplicably trickling out of his TIE somewhere faster than it could be recharged, but it was a small enough rate that he should be okay for a while until he could isolate it. Chase took a couple of breaths and tried to concentrate on ways to fix his destroyed comm while his fleet might still be close. Kane would have known exactly what to do. If only he was as good as Kane was, then... Thinking about his brother and how inaccessible he was made an unsettling feeling begin to grow in Chase's stomach, one he'd never felt at this level of intensity before. He looked out his cockpit windows at the infinite black void of stars all around him. His mind slowed down considerably from its previous frantic survival mode, and his thoughts found their way back to a few earlier words that had danced across his brain: he was alone. Utterly and completely alone. Possibly the only sentient being for light-years in any direction. The vast emptiness of outer space had always been a welcome escape from the claustrophobic conditions Chase had grown up with on Coruscant, but never before had space seemed as cold and forbidding and merciless as it did at that moment, and Chase hadn't ever felt so small and helpless when facing it. He had always been the strong one, the steady one, the one who provided for his family and protected them. He couldn't afford to be helpless with people depending on him, people like-- Chase felt the blood drain from his face. Lataise. His unborn child. He was stranded, adrift, with no way to ever get back home to them all because some Rebels decided to fight dirty and ambush them at a hyperspace transfer point like the cowards they were. They had chased away his fleet, his only chance to escape. His only chance to live. The fleet couldn't afford to risk thousands of lives to come back and look for one pilot who wasn't even still alive as far as they knew. Chase knew that. It was too dangerous for them since the Rebels might still be close. His fleet was gone, taking his life with it. Breathing had never before been so difficult. Chase didn't care about his own life as much as he cared about the fact that without it he would never be able to see Lataise again, would never grow old with her and do all the things he wanted to do with her like he'd promised he would. What hurt even more was the realization that he would never even meet his own child, the child they'd been wanting for such a long time, whom he had been going to love and cherish like no other father ever had before. He didn't even know yet if it would be a boy or a girl. Either one was equally welcome, but now he would never know. Never. He would never raise his child with his wife. He would never be a father. Instead he was going to die a slow death out here alone because of the Rebels. In spite of himself, the pilot felt hot tears well up in his eyes. Everything that mattered to him, everything he had wanted, everything he had anticipated was now erased by one word that hadn't previously had such a personal meaning: never. A cold void grew inside him, larger than the void of space outside his cockpit. Chase sobbed until he ran out of tears and cursed the Rebels until he ran out of curses. *** The first hour adrift was the longest sixty minutes Chase could remember in his lifetime. Once he'd pulled himself together, his initial frantic motivation and determination to get the comm functional again so he could get home to his family was systematically being eroded away by frustration and the stress of failure after failure. He couldn't concentrate. His arm and ribs were killing him. As if that wasn't enough, with his fighter powered down as much as it was, there was no substantial heat being generated by the avionics boxes and engines. Heat from those sources was designed to partially radiate into the cockpit to keep the pilot warm while the excess heat was radiated outward. The unforgiving cold of space was now starting to seep into his energy-deficient cockpit. But no matter what, he couldn't let this happen. This wasn't happening to him. It couldn't be. He had to get back. Chase cursed as his latest attempt at bypassing some systems to kickstart his comm failed. He hit the heel of his palm against his helmet a few times, racking his brain for another approach he could try, but all he could see when he closed his eyes was Lataise and a mental image of the child he'd never know. It was easy to mistake the stab of pain in his gut for an inadvertent protest from his injured ribs. *** A couple lengthy, lonely hours crawled by. Chase was chilled to the bone and shivering. His cold fingers were harder to move correctly, which made working with the computer and what hardware he could access from inside his cramped cockpit an even greater challenge. He was getting thirsty, and he occasionally spoke aloud to himself to drive away the eerie silence. He spent a long time trying to connect the communications output first to the IFF transponder and then to the emergency beacon antenna. Neither tactic worked. He wanted to scream. He wanted to personally kill the Rebels who had done this to him. He wanted something in this forsaken cockpit to actually work and give him a shred of hope. It didn't. Chase's frustration peaked. He hit the nearest cockpit console as hard as he could, which made his frozen muscles feel like icy needles had shot into them. He shouldn't even be in this mess. He should have done better. He should have avoided that shot. Kane could have. Hell, even his mother could have. He should be able to fix the comm. His father could have. Chase's wife and child were counting on him to make it back and provide for them and protect them, and he was letting them down. He was furious at himself for it. He was too stupid to do the simple repair. He was useless to his squadron. He was useless to his family. Everything had been just fine until the Rebels did this to him. The filthy, cowardly Rebels. The mere thought of them and their smug, righteous superiority complex made Chase seethe. Was this their goal? To tear families apart? They could all burn in all nine Corellian hells. He only wished he could have had the chance to help more of them get there. *** More hours dragged by, even longer than the first ones. Chase was shaking from more than the cold, and occasionally he briefly forgot where he was or what was happening. He believed he'd been able to boost the power to his emergency beacon signal, but he wasn't sure of the actual results. He had exhausted every single idea for his comm, even the silly and totally baseless ones, yet the system was still inoperative and power was still trickling out. Unless he could get his communications working, all he'd be able to do would be to sit and watch the two days' worth of consumables in his life support system slowly be depleted with every breath he took. That's what he was doing right now. The vastness and emptiness of space around him was an oppressive weight bearing down on him, telling him in no uncertain terms just how puny and insignificant and alone he was. It was becoming impossible not to think about, and Chase couldn't focus his thoughts on what they needed to be focused on. They kept finding their way back to that outer space void, then to the Rebels, then to Lataise and his child and his brother and everyone else, then to everything he was going to miss being a part of in the years ahead, then to everything he was going to miss the most from his life. He couldn't stand thinking about it all, but there was literally nothing else he could do. He promised his fighter that he would live his life better if it would only get him through this. He'd be better to Radek, better to his family, all of that if only the comm would start working or a miracle could arrive in the hyperspace transfer point, which was now a distance away from his drifting fighter. Eventually Chase gave up on hoping for those miracles and instead promised anything he could think of in return for making the Rebels pay for their actions, for the hurt they will have caused his wife, for making his child grow up without a father. With no comm, he couldn't even access the cockpit voice recorder to record a farewell message for Lataise and his child to hear on the off-chance his TIE was ever found. Just as he would never know his child, his child would never know him. *** Still the hours trudged along, each one somehow slower and more torturous than the last. Chase's life support consumables were halfway gone. His stomach growled, and his throat was dry. The end of his life was unavoidable now; his fingers and toes were numb from the cold and had long since become useless at any type of work on his fighter's systems. Besides, he couldn't see anything anyway: his helmet's lenses were fogged up and frosted over. Earlier, Chase had awkwardly pulled his stiff right arm out of the sleeve and flight glove and had gingerly folded it across his body inside his flightsuit for warmth, but his left arm hurt too much to try to get it out of the sleeve. It was just as well, since having only one arm pressed against his ribs under his suit's life support made breathing hard. Two would have made it impossible. Despair teamed up with the cold and made his thoughts murky. There was nothing more he could do to save himself from...whatever it was he couldn't save himself from. He couldn't remember. Now it was just a matter of waiting out the last interminable, agonizing hours until his life support ran out or he froze to death. He miserably wondered which would be worse. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he could fall asleep. Sleep sounded like a good thing anyway. Chase closed his bleary eyes and eventually dozed off into a fitful sleep. At times he wasn't quite sure if he was awake or unconscious. He saw Lataise. He talked to her. He talked to his son. He talked to his daughter. He had fun with them. He loved them. He even saw his brother and Radek. He thanked Radek for trying to help him and apologized to Kane for not living up to the family standards. He told them all how his death and also Kane's career-ending injury were the Rebels' fault and how the galaxy wasn't safe for his children or anyone else because of them. How the Rebels ignored every honorable rule of warfare and fought dirty with ambushes and hit-and-run guerrilla tactics and never came out for an honest fight. How the Empire had been too lenient in dealing with them. How the Empire would need to fight dirty to bring the war to the Rebels and ever have any hope whatsoever of defeating them. He told them all. He even told that to the bright light he saw. He talked to it. He saw some people that looked vaguely familiar. He talked to them. There was bright light and warmth. The people talked back to him. They said something about a rescue shuttle from Nashtah. -------- -----signature----- "Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method." -Karen Eiffel, _Stranger Than Fiction_ "Adamantine"--Rebel OC vig http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30390799
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