Beyond - Legends "Draw the Sword (Forget the Scabbard)" [Bloodlines AU] Updated 10/28!

Title: Draw the Sword (Forget the Scabbard)
Timeframe: Bloodlines AU
Summary: Syal Antilles is a good pilot and a dutiful officer, but there are some lines she won't cross, some things she can't do. She's a lot like her father in that respect - and like her father, she's about to accelerate an already smoldering conflict into outright war...
Notes: For the Rogues and Wraiths Ficathon 2009. Virusq on LJ asked for a story featuring Wedge, Wes, and Hobbie, with a secondary focus on smugglers, and with not omniscient Jedi. With that prompt, she managed to break my writer's block and start a 10+ chapter fic. Here's the first part...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Syal Antilles walked down the hallways of Peregrine base. It looked exactly like most other Alliance bases on Coruscant - that is, dazzlingly new and clean. Most of the Alliance's planetary bases were like this - the Yuuzhan Vong had destroyed or made uninhabitable the old Rebellion-era bases, and there were few Imperial bases left untouched. So they were all like this: Very new and clean and modern, and strangely, very Mon Calamari. The colors were all in pastel shades of blue and green, and though the organic aspect of Mon Calamari design was downplayed, it was still there in the rounded edges and clean, circular forms, meant to soothe and pacify all those who lived and worked there.

Ironically, it creeped the hell out of Syal. Syal had spent her childhood on Coruscant - the old Coruscant, that is - and her adolescence during the war on various freighters, cruisers, and Imperial Star Destroyers. And after the war, she moved to Corellia, hardly a paragon of soothing non-geometric design. Her father used to see Mon Calamari battle cruisers as a welcome respite from the still-threatening Star Destroyer. Syal thought the old design scheme a little too reminiscent of the Yuuzhan Vong, and had spent the last year incredibly grateful she was posted on a regular old triangular Star Destroyer.

But that was in the past, and Syal would have to get used to working in the bubble-like confines of the training base. All told, she'd been lucky to get this post. After that fiasco with Sal-Solo's spy, she thought she'd be drummed out of the military for sure. Legality aside, changing her identity was a definite 'no' for Starfighter Command. But the Intelligence agent debriefing her had only laughed and said it wasn't a problem. And then she had been offered a choice: command over a training squadron, or reassignment as a test-pilot on the new fighter, the Aleph. Syal had flown the Aleph, and was not particularly enamored of it - but she didn't really want to be a flight instructor either. Both were support positions, and although Syal wasn't a glory-hound, she did want to serve in a direct capacity. Still, training was better than testing, so Syal took the job.

And that was how she found her way here, deep in the bowels of Coruscant, walking in the curved corridors of a minor Mon Calamari base to see her new squadron. She was a little early - her father had always impressed upon her the need for a psychological edge when training brash new pilots, and Syal needed all the help she could get. She'd rather not rush in late and have her squadron's first impression of her be that of a tardy oaf. But hopefully, that wouldn't be a problem. Aside from dogfights, most pilots weren't on time for anything.

Syal reached a final stretch of hallway, and slowed down a bit to look at the room numbers as she passed. She stopped at the door labeled 733B and opened the door, casually scanning the room before she walked in. Then she froze. There were twelve men sitting around a long briefing table, and none of them looked at all out of the ordinary. They were all young human males, somewhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. Their hair was clipped short in the basic military cut, and they all wore the standard trainee jumpsuit. In fact, the only strange thing about the men was the fact that they all looked exactly the same, like twelve identical twins.

More to the po

 

Wow. New Elena-fic.

Your Luke viggie post-Ep. IV was the first piece of yours I read, and the power packed into such a short space was stunning.

And likewise, walking into this AU in media res has its own punch - Syal and clones? Niathal afflicted with ... something? Wes and Hobbie back in trouble?

Questions are always good. Questions involving a few Rogues, a complicated character like Niathal, and a character with great potential like Syal are even better.

Welcome back.

- Onderon1

 

Great start. There aren't enough Syal-centric fics out there, and with Wes and Hobbie at that. Looking forward to more.

 

You can't have an New Empire without clone's its just not the right way. If the GAG had included clones then I am sure we would all be bowing down to Emperor Caedus.

 

I know, such a shock, right?

I'm flattered you remember it.

*grins* I'm glad you're liking it, then. It's nice to know crack is still appreciated here...

Thanks for reading it - I'll try to update more than once every blue moon!

I agree that every tyrannical centralized government needs clones - but let's face it: Intel is not nearly as efficient as the Kaminoans, and Wedge!clones aren't anything like Jango!clones...

 

So, I'm sorry I was gone so long. Real life sorta kicked me around the block for awhile there - but I'm back! With and update!

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

As usual, Clone 1-1E, otherwise known as Yellow Five, went through the start-up sequence with half an ear to the transmission chatter, otherwise silent himself. As usual, the other clones were going through start-up with what their doctor called ?exuberance? and their occasional overseer called ?idiocy?. E himself thought it was nervousness. After all, it wasn?t every day their squadron got a new commander. Up until now, they?d relied on flash-learning to teach them all they needed to know, but there was only so much flash-learning could explain, and flying was one of those things.

?So?? a voice crackled over the intercom. ?What do think??

It was from F, on a private channel. E?s eye twitched a bit. ?Can?t you wait? We haven?t even flown against the captain yet, I?d like to wait until afterwards.?

F just snorted. ?I?d like to have your first impressions now. We have a minute before the sim starts, especially since I is being difficult again.?

E rolled his eyes. ?Well, she wasn?t expecting to train clones, obviously. It might bother her ? she definitely looked dismayed when she saw us. On the other hand, she?s been nothing but professional since she saw us, so maybe she was just surprised.?

F grunts, and the line is silent for a moment. ?You?re right. We don?t have enough info.?

Drily, E says, ?Well, I told you so. Now turn back to squadron frequency, the sim will be starting soon. You know B will be on us like white on rice if we?re not tuned in.?

F sniggered. ?The hell, man, where do you pick up these phrases??

E sniffed. ?Unlike you, I actually listen to G?s stupid holos. They?re very educational when it comes to language.?

?Whatever,? F said, the intercom clicked off as the sim began. E turned on the general channel, and heard nothing by static ? they were still in ?hyperspace?, after all. The silence was broken almost immediately upon reversion to realspace, as G said, a little impressed, ?Wow, holos don?t do that thing justice.?

E outright laughed as the other clones gave their assent in one way or another. The second Death Star was straight ahead, Endor?s moon slightly aft, and all around Imperial and Rebel forces are engaging. A immediately orders s-foils locked in attack positions, and as E leads his flight behind A?s, a joyful, eager grin spread across his face. Captain Dunter wasn?t going to know what hit her?

~~~~~~~~~~~`

In a simulator room three doors down from Yellow Squadron, Syal Antilles is also smiling. It?s a placid, sweet smile, and in a day or so, when the leader of the Galactic Alliance Guard is looking at the sim surveillance tapes for the first time, he?ll think she looks a bit too simple to have turned traitor. This is dead wrong, not the least because Jacen Solo has always been ridiculously bad at reading and predicting facial expressions and body language.

To someone familiar with Corellians in general and Wedge Antilles in particular, that small, pleasant smile is a massive harbinger of doom and destruction. Frankly, a Corellian with a clear, calm look on their face is the equivalent of a Wookie telling you he?s going to rip your arms out of your sockets ? fair warning for the totally disproportionate response to follow. Syal Antilles is really angry ? and when Syal Antilles is really angry, things happen. Granted, the last time Syal Antilles got really angry, the only result of her planning was the local schoolyard bully spent a good year twitching at the slightest sound, but that only means that Syal is about to break into the big leagues in a big way. One day, not that far into the future, the name ?Syal Antilles? is going to cause a shudder to crawl down the collective spine of GAI?

?but right now, Syal is only a young woman wearing the uniform of Starfighter Command and a captain?s pips, with a false name and an all-too-real smile on her face. And right now, she?s going to

 

snickers

Wedge clones? Being taught by his daughter? This is already getting interesting ...

and Wes and Hobbie. It's nice to see some things never change.

I am embarrassed, however, to not entirely remember Shalla Nelprin - I know the name from somewhere, probably one of the Rogue Squadron books, but it escapes me right now ...

Fun update, Elena.

- Onderon1

 

An update! Yay!


All of that was so funny. I especially loved the Syal parts and the clone's reactions. E seems rather traumatized.

Finally, I wonder what Shalla is up to.

 

Too cool!

Syal was always one of my favorite parts of early LOTF, and the way you write the Wraiths is just too funny...

And clones! Awesome!

I can't wait to see where you go with this.

 

Elena: this is huge fun, and I owe it a reply of commensurate size!



- The Imperial Ewok