Saga - OT Out of the Shadows (An X-Wing-inspired series following the adventures of the 13th Roving Line)

I posted the beginnings of this story LONG ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away. It was originally created as a fun way to chronicle the in game events of a group of friends (and enemies) in the wonderful game Star Wars Galaxies. What started as a series of tenuously linked stories, soon became a much larger story. Though some of the names have been altered to be more..."Star Warsy" (and to protect the guilty), almost every character in this story was a character played by a person in SWG. It is very hard that so many cannot make it through the entirety of this story, as every departure in this story represents the departure of an actual person in some way. I never finished this story, and in the many years since its inception, we have had multiple movies and series added to canon. Remarkably, I think most of this still manages to possibly fit within current canon, but I will be making adjustments where I can. I will also be working on finishing this story, as I have a rough outline of its conclusion that, while likely veering into Legends territory, I believe will soon be yanked back into canon . We will see! Please feel free to comment and add concrit whenever you like. I very much enjoy the feedback. I hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and I also hope to be able to craft an appropriate ending for such a special time with a remarkable group of people.


Timeframe: .5 ABY right up to the Battle of Hoth
Characters: The pilots of the 13th Roving Line, The pilots of Razor Squadron, Cameo by a certain Mon Calamari Admiral.
Genre: Action/Drama
Summary: It is six months after the Battle of Yavin, one of the Galaxy's most historic moments. Despite the incomprehensible military victory, the Rebel Alliance hangs by a thread. Out for vengeance, the vast Imperial Navy seeks to crush the growing Rebel fleet scattered in small and battered fleets across the galaxy. This is a tale of one such rag-tag fleet, the 13th Roving Line, led by the unusual Ithorian Admiral, Ieheeloonea Gaivee, and the Firrerreo fighter pilot Corvalis Mierdrym as they attempt to escape the vengeful clutches of the Imperial Navy...and a strange new threat gathering at the edges of civilization.

 

Out of the Shadows

Part 1

Chapter 1



A cheer echoed through the cavernous flight hangar.

The last of the GR-75 Gallofree transports had just broken free from the extensive gravity well generated by the massive gas giant planet known as Yavin. A recently arrived Mon Calamari cruiser had forced a strategically placed Imperial interdictor to retreat, finally breaking through the imperial blockade that had for so long prevented the remaining transports from jumping out of the system carrying the majority of the Rebel Alliance's heaviest equipment, as well as most of the civilian and military command at the besieged base.

The upstart Rebellion had achieved an unlikely victory only six months ago with the destruction of the dreaded Death Star, but amid the celebrations came the realization that, despite their stunning victory, they were still vastly outnumbered and were facing a foe with nearly unlimited resources; an enemy that had a new reason to throw everything they had into the fight - Revenge.

However, even with these advantages, the Empire had been unable to eradicate the persistent Rebel presence on the jungle moon. But with the Imperial blockade in place, a new arrival had appeared on the scene, the newest weapon in the Imperial arsenal, Lord Vader's new flagship, The terrifying battleship Executor.

Amazingly, with their backs to the wall, the Alliance had been able to execute a daring plan to temporarily disable the massive warship. But the time for the final evacuation had come. It was time to find a new home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

Captain Corvalis Mierdrym looked around the vast subterranean hangar so busy with activity. Not for the first time, he marveled that the entire base represented a merging of the truly ancient and modern that only the Alliance Corps of Engineers could manage. They had retrofit the massive Masassi temple to fit the Alliance's need without fundamentally altering the temple's nature. The Empire would have razed the mysterious and eerily beautiful structure and replaced it with a pre-fab utilitarian base. While he knew that the Alliance's conservationism was hardly altruistic (they simply lacked the resources and time to employ Imperial techniques), he enjoyed the aesthetic reminders of their separation from all things Imperial.

As he walked brusquely through the cavernous hangar, he felt the familiar anticipation that always put a spring in his step before any mission. The energy in the hangar was palpable as T-65 X-wings and their pilots went through preflight checks and twittering astromechs were loaded into their sockets. He saluted a young pilot, veritably bursting with excitement as he hopped into his cockpit.

Neezlo, Corvalis thought. That's what they called the young Twi'lek. He smiled, but sighed to himself, Never even flown in an X-wing before. As he made his way to his ship, he couldn't help remembering that it wasn't that long ago that he had been a green pilot himself, though that time seemed like a different universe entirely. He had learned under fire too, but most of the friends and comrades who had joined up with him were gone now. The learning curve was steep, the price paid for failure (and sometimes for success) was high, but in war one lived for the moment, and the ideals that most of them had signed up for, while still important, mattered less in the cold vacuum of space than the faith in the pilot on one's wing.

Making his way towards an isolated repair and maintenance bay where a small, sleek fighter sat tethered to fuel and power feeds, Corvalis heard a familiar grumbling coming from somewhere beneath the tiny craft. He looked down and saw two scuffed boots poking out and laughed at a muffled stream of curses that would make an Aqualish blush.

"Hey mudcruncher, you gonna take a ride on this thing while hangin' on down there? I don't think even these engines can handle that strain."

A solid bump was followed by yet another curse, as the large tech slid out from under the ship. He was covered from head to toe in grease and hydrolic fluid, and he glowered up at Corvalis, "The way you fly, I should come with you. Might get a head start on the repairs I'll have to make when you get back."

"Ah, but I always get back," Corvalis laughed; the old bravado a part of the routine now.

"Only ‘cause I keep you alive," the tech said as he unplugged the power and fuel lines and banged a fibertech composite plate into place over the ports.

"Well I can't argue with that one, Anix. Did I ever tell you you're the best crew chief in the galaxy?" Corvalis laughed, anticipating the response.

"Yeah, you have a knack for stating the obvious, flyboy. Now, are you gonna sit around here all day yapping, or are you gonna actually fly this contraption?"

Corvalis looked at the ship before him. It was the new Kuat Systems Engineering R-22 Spearhead, but it had already come to be known as "A-wing" by its pilots. He whistled. Even standing still, the little ship looked like it was blasting through a formation of TIE fighters. Wedge shaped, with a snug cockpit nestled between the humming Novaldex J-77 "Event Horizon" engines, the fighter was obviously the logical extension of the old Delta-7 and Actis ETA-2 fighters of earlier wars.

Those legendary fighters were famous for their speed and agility, and Corvalis was eager to put the R-22 through its paces to see how it measured up. In the back of his mind lurked a fear born out of experience. Those other ships had Jedi piloting them.

As if reading his mind, Anix said sincerely, "You sure you don't want me to prep your T-65? We can easily throw this ship on the last of the transports. You can test it out when we get to Thila."

Uncomfortable with the thought that Corvalis would detect the concern in his voice, he added, "'Cause you know, I'd hate to see all the time and energy thrown into this project by Dodonna and Wissex go up in smoke just because some long-haired hotshot thought he could take on the Empire on his own."

Corvalis had known Anix far too long not to understand the chief's real concern. The old man had been an engineer and a crew chief aboard a Victory-class Star Destroyer in the last days of the Republic. As the Republic became the Empire, and its dominance in the Galaxy grew, the chief grew more and more disgusted with the missions his ships were used for. The turning point for him came when he found out that a squadron of bombers he and his crew had just repaired was used to level an entire city on Talus in the hopes of destroying one small Rebel cell.

He jumped ship that day and disappeared into the Talusian back country. He did repair work and odd jobs on the sparsely populated planet, until he was relatively sure that no one was looking for him. Soon, he had opened his own ship repair business and, ironically, it was the very Rebel cell that his former employers had bombarded that contacted him.

Though he was skeptical at first, vowing to stay out of the Galactic Civil War, he was convinced by the persuasive freedom fighter, and Commander of the Alliance's secretive "Shadow Squadron", Ieheeloonea Gaivee. Soon, his brilliant technical mind was being utilized in the repair, upgrade, and creation of Alliance starships.

Like any good Chief, Anix thought of the ships he repaired as his own, but Corvalis knew that each time one didn't come home, the gruff shipwright blamed himself. Though he was attached to his ships, it was for the young pilots flying them - like the one standing before him - that he was so meticulous.

Corvalis put a hand on the shoulder of the older man and said softly, "She'll be okay Chief. Anyway, all of the remaining proton torpedoes left on the Bright Hope. I'd have to take up the X-wing without them. The twelve concussion missiles you managed to load into this little beauty might come in handy. We need her up there."

Watching the chief swell with pride at the mention of the missile launcher that even General Wissex thought was an impossible fit in the ship's light chassis, Corvalis hopped up and into the open cockpit. He looked at the chief as he began the ship's start up sequence and yelled over the growing whine of the powerful engines.

"Plus, don't let that...little battle... that happened here a few months ago fool you. The Alliance needed the best pilot in the galaxy for this little ship!"

Anix yelled back, "Oh Yeah? Well, when’s he getting here?!"

He walked away smiling, and began packing up the last of his gear, sparing one last glance over his shoulder and watching Corvalis lift his little ship onto its repulsors, followed by the rest of the squadron's X-wings. As they arced gracefully out of the massive blast doors of the hangar and into the red twilight of the Yavin night, he whispered, "May the force be with all of you," picking up the last of his gear, he noticed a little Mon Cal mechanic looking at him.

Anix barked, "What are you lookin' at, Fish Face?" and headed towards his transport.

 

Corvalis couldn't help the exhilaration he felt as he pushed his little ship up through the atmosphere of the jungle moon. In atmospheric flight, the R-22 handled marvelously. Just to get the feel of the craft, he snapped a couple of barrel rolls and heard the crackle of his comms on a private channel.

"Showoff."

"Just putting her through her paces, Gin. Gotta make sure she can handle my moves."

"As long as you're runnin' that new ego to shield shunt Anix installed, you shouldn't need any moves," Pa-hon jabbed back.

Corvalis could hear his friend's smile, and retorted similarly, "Don't hate me just 'cause your reflexes are slippin' old man."

Corvalis grinned and looked to his starboard where his longtime friend and First Lieutenant, Pa-hon Gin flew close enough to be visible through the large cockpit of his old ARC-170 gunship. Gin was the only other member of the flight not flying the newly acquired Incom T-65 X-Wings. Instead, he was ever present in his larger ship as the communications and long range sensor element of Shadow Squadron.

Pa-hon was chronologically the same age as Corvalis, but during the Clone Wars he had served as a Republic pilot, the commander of a squadron attached to the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Vigilant. During the second battle of Kamino, the ARC-170 starfighter he was flying had been heavily damaged. Separated from his squadron, he and his crew plotted a microjump. They canceled the safety overrides of their protesting astromech and lurched into hyperspace, unaware that the tachyon stasis field generated by all hyperdrives to negate relativistic time dilation was fluctuating. When he emerged from hyperspace, near the Tatooine system, almost twenty years had passed.

Pa-hon and his crew soon found that the Loyalists had won the Clone Wars, only to form the oppressive Galactic Empire. Instead of returning to the now Imperial Navy, the three decided to find work on the secluded desert planet. While they helped each other adjust to their new environment at first, in a few months Gin and his crew parted ways.

Pa-hon Gin, always an opportunist, found the rough but highly unregulated planet much to his liking. He parlayed a stunning string of saabac victories into an owner's share of a Mos Espa Cantina, and started a lucrative business as a manager and entertainer catering to all types of beings visiting the large city.

It was the mysterious pilot and Alliance commander, Ieheeloonea Gaivee that had approached and convinced Pa-hon Gin, and his friend, a Firrereo cantina patron named Corvalis, to join the underground Rebel Alliance.

So it was that Pa-hon Gin and Corvalis Mierdrym, both refugees, found a home, amid the chaos of rebellion and war, in what would come to be called Shadow Squadron.

The two pilots glanced at each other through the transparisteel of their respective canopies. Corvalis nodded to his friend, glad that the veteran had his wing as always. He switched his comms to an open channel as soon as they passed through the planet's ionosphere, issuing the order, "All wings, form up."

The squadron's T-65s followed the little R-22 and the larger ARC-170 into a low orbit and assumed a tight and disciplined formation.

In his X-wing, the young Neezlo looked out past the gas giant and saw the massive, yet crippled, Super Star Destroyer known as the Executor. The behemoth was impressive even as it frantically struggled to repair a destabilizing orbit around the huge planet.

"I can't believe they actually damaged that thing!" Shadow Eleven, a young Tatooine native named Rhen Chiffero, exclaimed exuberantly.

"After that rookie blew up the Death Star by himself, I can believe anything." Came the reply from Shadow Ten, a Corellian named Susto Asos.

"Cut the chatter, Shadows," Came the stern rebuke from Gin. "That thing still has at least two wings of fighters to throw at us."

Silence was the reply, but Gin could tell that the pilots were foolishly itching for a fight. Like much of the Alliance Navy, they had been halfway across the galaxy, flying obsolete Z-95 Headhunters, engaging in hit and fade and sabotage operations in backwater systems when the small contingent defending the Yavin Base had scored the greatest military upset in recorded history.

Along with brand new ships, they were now in possession of a sense of invulnerability that could be both a blessing and a hindrance. They all wanted to make a name for themselves. Pa-hon knew this was a good thing, but he also knew the reality - many of them would fade into obscurity with one undisciplined move, footnotes of history. Susto cited Luke Skywalker's already legendary trench run as inspiration, but for every Luke, there were countless Darklighters and Porkins and Dreis. Wanting to be the best was one thing, but looking for fights where few (if any) would survive was quite another.

Pa-hon was already having a difficult time remembering the pilots they had lost in this war, let alone the friends he had lost in the Clone Wars. His pilots wanted to test their metal against the best. With the infamous "Razor Squadron" reportedly assigned to the Executor for this engagement, Pahon thought, They might get their wish soon enough.

The soft tone of his scanners broke him out of his reverie, and he flipped on the squadron comm channel, "Alliance transponder. Looks like the first transport has launched."

Soon other contacts were breaking through the ionosphere and entering into a low orbit, gathering as much speed as possible in order to slingshot themselves towards the jump point beyond the large gravity well generated by the moon and its massive primary.

Corvalis looked at the convoy gathering speed - four modified Gallofree YKL-Nova Courier transports flanked several older Correllian freighters.

"Right then, let's get them through to the jump point."

He rolled his R-22 over and throttled up, Pa-hon Gin's ARC-170 staying with him in a graceful power turn as they established a point position. Breaking into flights of four, the rest of the squadron surrounded the convoy of freighters as they engaged their boosters to break free of the low orbit.

With the assist from the moon, the convoy traveled faster than the slower freighters' sublight engines would generally allow, and they would need that speed to get through the expected Imperial ambush.

The last convoy was away.

 

The gas giant glowed blood red in the vacuum of space. It was a roiling mass of storms, a violent conflagration of energy orbiting a cold and distant white dwarf sun. Cresting the terminator of the behemoth, a small brilliant moon sparkled in the light, the gleaming marble, an oasis of life, somehow clinging to existence within the nexus of precise criteria necessary to sustain its verdant ecosystems.

In an equally precarious balance, the temporary residents of the jungle moon had clung to the desperate hopes of freedom and victory. Their assailants were not tidal forces, or radiation, or magnetic storms, but the equally ominous threat of horror and brutality tangibly realized in the dreaded Death Star.

Though pulled and threatened by crushing forces, the rag tag fleet had managed to survive in a hostile environment, eliminating the most immediate threat with one fateful blow, but it was time for these survivors to leave their hideaway world to its own eternal conflict.

So it was that a sparkling mote of light crested the horizon of the jungle moon. It was soon followed by another, and another, until a resolute line of similar lights made their way into the night, a string of diamonds slung around the spinning green moon, launched into a sea of darkness.

As they broke away from the jealous embrace of their former home, the diamonds took on the more mundane forms of dilapidated and much abused freighters. Each ship bore the scars of battle and hard use. Correllian and Gallofree transports strained hard against gravitational forces, overloaded with the last remnants of the Rebel fleet, but though engines and deck plates groaned in protest, the convoy steadfastly plotted a course into an uncertain night, clinging to the fateful hopes of a new dawn.

The harbingers of that dawn, gleaming in the light of a distant sun, fell into formation around the battered freighters. Next to the bulky craft, the shining new Incom T-65 X-wings appeared even more sleek and deadly, S-foils neatly closed, tucking their quad blasters tightly against each other.

The lead ship in this deadly convoy appeared in form and function as the tip of a deadly lance. Unlike the X-wings, breaking off into pairs assigned to watch over freighters, Captain Corvalis Mierdrym's experimental R-22 Spearhead flew far ahead. Directly behind him flew the much larger and older ARC-170 gunship of Lieutenant Pa-hon Gin.

Lieutenant Gin's voice crackled over the comms, breaking the restless silence of the tense procession, "...multi-band scans of the jump vector still negative. No contacts detected from Executor."

Captain Mierdrym instinctively looked to port where no magnification was needed to clearly see the listing monstrosity. Rumored to be Darth Vader's flagship, the massive vessel had nearly cut off any chance for the Rebels to evacuate the Yavin Base. Only the sacrifice of General Jan Dodonna's own son, and the heroism of the unlikely Rebel Han Solo, had allowed the Rebels to temporarily disable the fearsome ship.

Even crippled, the ship represented a very real threat. While they had been forced to focus all resources on keeping the massive vessel from sinking into the destructive gravity well of the gas giant, if they managed to enable their launch systems, the ship had several full wings of TIE fighters available to stop the Rebel escape.

Corvalis replied to his wingman and friend, "Copy, Shadow Two. Calculate an intercept algorithm for T plus fifteen originating at X one mark four."

"Confirmed, Shadow One. Stand-by"

Though his initial impressions of his little R-22 were positive, Corvalis lamented not having the abilities and security of his trusty R2 unit. R2-Q3 "Queue" would have easily and quickly calculated any query he might have and was invaluable in painting and acquiring potential hostile targets. He shook off the insecurity and reminded himself that Queue was nestled safely in Pa-hon's ARC-170, a ship that had a sensor package and analysis suite far more advanced than even the new T-65s, and he trusted his friend.

As if answering his momentary concerns, Pa-hon responded, "Calculations complete. We've got six minutes ‘til we're out of their range to pursue us, Captain."

"Copy, Shadow Two, and good to hear." Flipping to a fleet-wide channel he said confidently, "This is Shadow Lead, all flights prepare for jump in..."

A warning light and tone went off in mid transmission, and Corvalis didn't need Pa-hon or Queue to know that things had suddenly changed. The threat had materialized right in front of them.

"Nebulon B Frigate Indomitable on escape vector!" Gin intoned in an agitated voice uncommon for the normally implacable lieutenant. "She's launching TIEs, Captain."

"We were so close!" groaned Shadow Eleven.

"Calm down, Eleven. Keep your heads about you, Shadows. We'll get through this quick enough," Corvalis said calmly. Switching to private comms he said to Pa-hon, "Start uploading tactical directly to each astromech in the squadron. There's no way around that frigate, so we're going to have to punch through it." The dull tones of his flight computer informed him that one squadron of TIE/ln starfighters and one flight of TIE Bombers had launched from the frigate's small forward launch bay.

Pa-hon, broadcasting to the entire fleet calmly stated, "We have twelve Eyeballs and four Dupes inbound. Tighten up Shadows. Phantom Flight, Spectre Flight, engage those fighters. Ghost Flight, move to intercept the bombers."

The flight leaders confirmed, and Pa-hon glanced at his holo-battle display and saw them moving to form a protective shield in front of the freighters. He noted that they were going to have precious little time to eliminate the fighter threat as the speed the convoy had gained sling-shotting around the Yavin moon precluded any significant change in general vector or velocity. They were literally hurtling right into disaster.

Corvalis, coming to the same conclusion, intoned, "Gin, we have to make a run on the frigate. There's no time to set up a secondary attack. By the time we’re through those fighters the freighters will be in turbolaser range."

Looking at his indicators, Corvalis shook his head at the rather paltry energy output of his shields. Recognizing that his little ship wouldn't survive even one hit by the frigate's turboblasters, he redirected all discretionary energy into engines.

"Gin, throttle back and wait for the boys to catch up, and be set to transmit data directly from my targeting computer to the fleet!"

Pa-hon replied, "Um...negative, Shadow One, you're not engaging a Nebulon B on your own. Even you aren't that crazy."

Corvalis dialed the inertial compensator up slightly and kicked in the sublight boosters, rocketing forward as he responded, "Yeah, but they don't know that do they?" He smiled fiercely beneath his flight helmet and added, "Fall back, Gin, I need you to get this data to the fleet. And don't worry. I don't plan on dying today!"

Reluctantly, Pa-hon obeyed orders. Shadow Squadron's X-wings fell into formation with him. He watched his friend hurtle through a cloud of oncoming TIEs and exhaled with relief as Corvalis flew straight on towards the waiting frigate with no fighters in pursuit. Resolutely, he commanded the squadron, as he reached up and toggled a switch above his head, "Lock S-Foils in attack position"

Flipping off the comms as the reassuring vibrations of his old ship's S-foils deployed, and targeting the lead TIE Fighter, Pa-hon muttered to himself, "I have a bad feeling about this."

 

“As Ordered,” Lieutenant Chervil replied to Pa-hon Gin’s command to engage the squadron of TIE fighters screaming towards them.

He reached above his head and calmly flipped the switch deploying his s-foils. One of the “old men” of the squadron, he was a veteran of many battles and was old enough to remember the ravages of the Clone Wars. Less eager to prove himself, he was battle tempered and resolute, the kind of pilot that had led Shadow Squadron to overcome nearly impossible odds in the past. While seeing the Nebulon B frigate jump in, cutting off their escape, had rattled some of the younger pilots, Chervil simply took a deep breath, and fell back on his training. His R4 unit began twittering as telemetry data was uploaded from Pa-hon Gin’s ARC-170.

He glanced at his monitor as the incoming TIEs’ speed and vectors were received, and as they moved into attack position, he smiled.

‘Bout time we got this show on the road, he thought grimly. He switched to flight comms and ordered the other three pilots of Phantom Flight pilots to break to port in a flanking maneuver. He didn’t have to check his monitor to know that his friend and fellow lieutenant, Lonobabas Sama, was performing a similar maneuver to starboard with his Spectre Flight.

Hopefully we’ll share a tankard of Moenian Ale tonight and compare kills, He thought with a smile.

Chervil’s smile became cold as his R4 screeched out a warning signifying that the TIE Fighters were nearly in range.

“Shadow Twelve, paint the nearest eyeball and switch to proton torpedoes. Eleven, you’re on his wing. Ten, you’re with me.” A series of eager confirmations echoed over the channel, and Chervil casually flicked the switch on his flightstick, arming his own proton torpedoes.

The squadron of incoming TIEs had surprisingly stayed together, heading towards the incoming line of freighters. Behind them, Chervil could just make out the ungainly forms of a single flight of TIE Bombers. Easy pickings for Ghost Flight. Go get ‘em Rito, Chervil thought menacingly.

Just then, the Squadron of TIEs broke into two elements, crossing over each other to confuse the X-wing sensors. One group broke off towards Ghost Flight and the other, larger group, came straight at Chervil’s own Phantom Flight.

Chervil immediately called to Shadow Twelve, “Susto, dump lock. Roll port, and paint the nearest Eyeball”

“Copy, Shadow Nine,” came the tense reply.

Rolling with him, the four ship element maintained enough distance from the incoming TIEs to sort out priority targets.

Helping with this task, Pa-hon Gin’s voice over echoed over the comms, “Spectre flight priority is the bombers, proceed to three-one-two mark five.”

Chervil noted Lonobabas’s hesitation as he replied, “…Copy, Shadow Two”

The order to send the four X-wings of the starboard flanking Spectre Flight after the TIEs bearing down on the bomber hunting Ghost Flight had left Chervil’s own flight to engage more than half a squadron of TIEs. This wouldn’t have been such a daunting task if he didn’t have two relatively untested pilots flying with him. Only his wingman, the Wookiee, Matorullk, had logged any significant combat time.

A veteran of the Clone Wars, Matorullk had joined the Alliance after the death of his father at the hands of an Imperial prison warden. His rage had been fatally redirected to countless TIE pilots, but the grim satisfaction of destruction had done little to assuage the guilt and loss he still felt.

We’ll all have time for grief after the war. If we live that long. Chervil thought.

Shaking off his momentary thoughts as a dangerous distraction, he focused on the situation at hand. Susto Asos, a young hotshot Correllian pilot, flew less than ten meters off the starboard stabilizer. Right behind him, covering him, was the even younger Tatooine native, Rhen “Chif” Chifero.

These two had always excelled in simulators, and had worked well together in training, but combat did strange things to people. Chervil hoped his two young pilots would pull through like he knew they could.

He didn’t get much time to worry about it however, as his R4 unit screamed out a proximity alert, seconds later his painted target showed up on his HUD, blinking red with a solid tone. Jamming his thumb into the launch button, he yelled “One away!” as a blue flash burst from the side of his X-wing. A split second later he saw a similar streak lancing from Susto’s ship.

Chervil’s torpedo hit first, its focused explosion ripping the unfortunate TIE into infinite pieces as a massive secondary explosion signified the similar connection of Susto’s own missile.

“I got him, I got him!” Came Susto’s elated cry.

“You’re drifting wide, Twelve!”, Chervil yelled as he pulled a power turn, blasting through the still burning plasma of the dual explosions, confident with Matorullk on his six.

Over the Comms Pa-hon Gin’s voice reached out to Phantom Flight. “Eleven and Twelve, you have trailers, roll port and come to eight-seven mark six.”

“As ordered!” Susto yelled, concern evident in his voice.

“Stay calm, Susto, Chervil added, “Pull it back nice and easy. Give us a good shot.”

Matorullk growled and barked a staccato rhythm that Chervil knew meant that two more TIEs were circling around behind them.

He reached down and dumped power from his shields into his engines and throttled up, watching his two rookie pilots cross in front of him. As expected, two TIEs screamed by in pursuit.

“Now, Mato!” Chervil yelled, and the two pilots slammed feet into ethereal rudder pedals and pulled back their sticks, yanking their craft in behind the TIEs. Momentarily looking at his scanners, Chervil saw the TIEs on their rear were gaining.

The TIE in front of him, most likely thinking the same thing about the pursuing X-wings, lined up a hasty shot, opening fire on Chif. The young pilot instinctively started to turn, but a snarling Wookiee growl reminded him to maintain discipline and hold his primary course as he jinked the ship back and forth evasively.

Seconds later, crimson lances spat from Chervil’s guns, piercing the wings of the offending TIE, sending it careening off course before breaking apart like a flaming metallic comet.

Before the other TIE pilot could break off his attack and help his wingmen close on the X-wings, a quad blast caught it directly in the ion drives. A snarling Wookiee roar accompanied Matorullk as his X-wing streaked through the booming explosion.

Pa-hon’s calm voice came through the excitement of battle, “Eleven and Twelve clear. Good shooting Shadows. Nine and Ten, you have two more on your six. Cross pattern delta.”

Without thinking, both pairs of X-wings crossed over each other heading in opposite looping turns. The flight of two TIEs followed Mato and Chervil, while Susto and Chif continued in a wide disciplined power turn. Letting the TIEs stay with them and switching shields to double rear, Chervil allowed the TIE pilots’ bloodlust and natural desire for vengeance to goad them on.

Emerald darts streaked by his cockpit, and Matorullk uttered a plaintive and concerned roar.

The kids’ll get ‘em, buddy. Chervil thought…hoped.

As if answering his thoughts, an explosion strained his rear shields, followed by a second.

An unmistakable Corellian, “Yeeehaw!” echoed in his ear, and Chervil laughed.

“Good shooting, pilots!”

“He popped like a womp rat under a sand crawler!” Chif shouted.

An untranslatable, "Wuuf!" Followed from Mato.

“Yeah, Chif. I think we get the picture,” Chervil groaned.

Checking his scanners, Chervil saw that Ghost and Spectre Flights had similarly decimated the remaining Eyeballs and Dupes. Better yet, they too had done so without a single casualty.

A deep voice crackled on the comms, “Good work Shadows, I’m receiving initial telemetry from Shadow One, he is approaching the frigate. Standby for assault.

Pa-hon’s ARC-170 moved in alongside of the squadron as they rolled out into a formation designed to cause to most difficulty for turbo laser firing solutions.

Chervil looked left, and then right, and saw bristling laser cannons to each side.

Now it really starts to get interesting

 

Corvalis smiled fiercely in the cockpit of his R-22. Having heard the battle with the TIEs over comms, he felt a strong sense of pride in the superior performance of his squadron. He looked up at the ungainly looking Nebulon B frigate before him, growing ever larger in his sights, and thought, Now it’s my turn.

Looking at his scanners, he saw that the X-wings (and Pa-hon’s ARC-170) were fanning out far behind him, preparing for the assault.

The Nebulon B was an awkward looking ship, but Corvalis knew that looks could be deceiving. Though it was not large, it had the capacity to carry up to two squadrons of starfighters. The fact that it had launched just over one squadron, the one Shadow Squadron had already decimated, and had not launched any further TIEs, led Corvalis to believe that it had already spent its complement of fighters, but he had to be aware of the possibility of fighter reserves.

The Indomitable was still an impressive warship without fighters however, sporting twelve Taim and Bak XI turbolasers as well as an equal number of Borstel RH8 anti-starfighter laser cannons. She was built to excel in ship to ship combat as well as in an anti-starfighter roll. Clearly, his lone A-wing was hardly a match for this vessel. Corvalis though, had no intention of attacking.

Instead, he manually entered in the distance and closing rates of the rest of the squadron into his flight computer, wishing again that Queue, was with him. Broadcasting on the squadron channel, he said simply, “Alright Shadows, I’ll turn out the lights. We’re all going in dumb.”

“You can say that again.” Pa-hon quipped on a private channel.

As his flight computer warned him that he had entered the extreme range of the frigate’s turbolasers, Corvalis went evasive. He rolled his ship slightly on all three axes, closing the distance in an unpredictable manner. The turbolasers, packing a huge punch, lacked the ability to train on such a small and maneuverable target. As such, he would have to be very unlucky to be hit from this range.

Taking a deep breath as he closed, Corvalis hoped he had a surplus of luck to rely upon. The far more accurate anti-starfighter laser cannons represented a more pressing concern. As he streaked in, the fast repeating borstels opened up on him, virtually filling the vacuum with verdant lances of destructive energy.

Twisting and rolling with greater intensity, Corvalis reached down and flipped on the experimental sensor jamming equipment that had been installed on his little ship. He noticed a momentary pause in the intensity of fire erupting from the frigate and used it to kick in his boosters and accelerate to point blank range.

Skimming over the dull grey ablative armor of the great ship, he spared a glance at his sensors, noting that they too were confused by his own jamming. Broadband EM radiation was being generated and transmitted on nearly all frequencies, blinding most standard sensor locks.

Unfortunately, this action also virtually blinded Corvalis, and he had to rely completely on visuals to dart his little ship around the frustrated frigate like an angry Corellian blood bee.

The frigate’s guns, temporarily quieted by the initial sensor jamming, had opened up again, though Corvalis noted, with much less accuracy. He sighed and thought, Little good that’s gonna do me if I hang around here too long. The energy needed to power his jammer severely strained his ship’s reactor, and he had already dumped all of his shield and weapon’s power into his engines. One of these guys is bound to get a lucky shot in and then…

He didn’t stop to finish his thought; instead, he rocketed under the long spar connecting the prow of the large ship to its powerful drive section. As he did so an alarm rang out from his flight computer. Exhaling powerfully, he pulled back on the stick, looping up over the frigate, into its most concentrated kill zone. Now comes the fun part, he thought wryly.

Eager to swat the pest that had plagued it, the Imperial gunners visually tracked the R-22, spitting out streaks of angry green death at the diminutive vessel.

They never saw what hit them.

Corvalis, looping over the frigate felt the explosion more than saw it. For a moment, his vision was impaired by a blinding white flash that dulled as his canopy instantly polarized. He found himself bursting through the sizzling blue nimbus of energy indicative of a proton explosion.

Whipping his tiny craft around, he saw double lines of X-wings streaking in and unloading proton torpedoes at close range. The fact that several of the missiles streaked past the thin mid-section of the ship was evidence that Corvalis’ sensor jamming was still operating.

They were aiming their missiles manually.

Corvalis watched with growing pride as four more X-wings dove in, evading a spattering of fire from the few gunners who had located the real threat. The first two unloaded their protons and pulled up sharply, not even seeing both missiles slam into the frigate’s faltering shields. The next two X-wings fired right on their heels. A brilliant flash surrounded the frigate, signifying the total collapse of the beleaguered shields.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he noted the Indomitable belatedly rotating and engaging its main drives in a laughable attempt to escape. Shadow squadron’s remaining X-wings easily pounced on her and unloaded a final salvo of missiles. While one streaked harmlessly under the armored hull, three slammed hard into the massive drive unit, flashing brilliantly and setting off a chain reaction as reactors and fuel tanks detonated.

The force of the impact and subsequent explosions literally ripped the ship in half as the burning drive unit tumbled end over end into space before detonating with the brilliance of a supernova. White hot missiles of molten shrapnel accompanied the shock wave, and slammed into the ruined spinning prow of the frigate, peppering it with its own ruins and causing the brilliant geysers of flash frozen vapor indicative of explosive decompression.

Corvalis smiled with grim satisfaction as he looked out at the silent conflagration, watching the raging fires consume the last reserves of bleeding oxygen. He reached down and flipped off the invaluable jammer, and immediately the silence of space was filled with momentary static, quickly replaced by the triumphant and exuberant celebratory calls of Shadow Squadron pilots.

“Did you see that!?” cried Shadow Eight. Corvalis recognized the voice of the young Twi’lek named Neezlo that he had saluted before they launched.

“My torpedo broke that thing in half!”

“Hey, Mine brought down their shields!” cried Shadow Six, a Chilastrian ensign named Jaak Irving.

“Hey Ristari? How’d you manage to miss that thing’s rear?! It was bigger than your mom's!” laughed Susto.

The Thyferran retorted, “Pickles told me to aim low!”

“Oh sure, blame the droid!” preceded a chorus of cheerfully mocking replies.

Pa-hon Gin’s voice resonated over the celebration, “Excellent work all around Shadows, but let’s remember the mission, fall in with the convoy.”

Corvalis nodded to himself and said, “Gin’s right boys. Great work. Let’s head back to the fleet.” Despite his orders he heard the laughing congratulations and good-natured razzing continuing, and couldn’t help but allow himself to smile broadly in the confines of his own ship. There is so little joy in the middle of this terrible war, He thought. What’s the harm in letting them enjoy the moment? Who knows how many they’ll get.

Setting in a course to intercept the fleet of freighters, no more than glittering stars at this range, Corvalis looked at the slowly spinning wreckage in front of him as his squadron mates cheered. He used his maneuvering thrusters to pull underneath the wreck, and noticed for the first time, in the cooling wreckage, the morbid forms of floating and tumbling bodies, frozen in terror by the uncaring grip of space.

The immediate cessation of chatter on the comms told Corvalis that the other pilots had seen the same thing. The joyous celebration of moments before became a solemn silence, as the squadron of ships slowly moved past the wreckage like a funeral procession.

Clicking on to a fleet wide channel, Corvalis’s voice quietly broke the silence, “Shadow Two, drop an emergency beacon broadcasting on Imperial channels. Set distress priority one, emergency recovery required.”

Corvalis knew that even if they cared, no Imperial rescue or salvage team would risk returning any time soon, and that any survivors clinging to life within the twisted heap of burning metal in front of him were doomed, but he wanted his men to understand the gravity of the situation, while clinging to the only real insulation any of them had against the deadly cold of space, their faith in each other, and the certainty of their personal honor.

To each other, they owed their lives. To those who had died honorably at their hands, they owed their respect. This has been a good day, Corvalis mused as the first of the freighters flashed into hyperspace before him. We fought hard, hit hard, and most importantly…we’re all heading home…where ever that is.

As his flight computer’s counter dropped to zero, and star lines stretched out to welcome him into hyperspace, Corvalis thought grimly,

They won’t all be like this…

 

It's good to see you and this story again! I'll give it a read this weekend when I have more time, and I'll post a better reply then. Just wanted to say welcome back.

 

Thanks Thumper! You were always such a great commenter on the original thread back in the day! It's been a LONG time. I came back because I have reconnected with some of the people who inspired characters in this story after years of life. Figured I might as well finally try to finish it!

 

Chapter 2

Corvalis went over the data for the next leg of their journey again as the eerily swirling blue-white light of hyperspace rolled by. They were less than an hour into their jump, but they would only be in hyperspace for another forty minutes by his calculations.

The majority of the fleet, Shadow Squadron included, was headed to the hastily deployed and temporary secret base on the outer rim planet of Thila. Though Thila was located in the Xappyh sector, rimward from Yavin, Shadow Squadron and their freighters had jumped toward the core to throw off any imperial pursuit. They would alter course near the Taanab system and make several more jumps rimward before reaching their destination. It would be a long flight cooped up in the snug cockpit of an R-22.

Confident in the calculations and tired of going over them in his head, Corvalis took a moment to listen in to the hyperspace distorted tightbeam chatter of his pilots.

“…I’m serious Raynard. That Chevin back on Da Soocha V was male!” Corvalis recognized the laughing voice of Shadow Three, a good natured Talusian pilot named Gravan Totinirl who had been with the squadron since their initial training at Dantooine.

“No kriffing way!” came the vehement retort from Aric Raynard, who’s clipped Coruscanti accent was more common among Imperial circles - a fact that his fellow squadron mates often teased him about.

Shadow Squadron’s only other Coruscanti pilot, Lieutenant Shanda Bryn jumped in next, “I don’t think I want to know how you tell the difference, Tot.”

Corvalis heard several pilots laugh at her quip, and resisted the urge to comment himself. It was good for morale for the pilots to joke with each other in this way, and though it was in his nature to join them, the admiral had taught him the importance of letting the junior officers form bonds with each other. He respected and cared for every member of his squadron, but it was important that, at least in this environment, he was their Commanding Officer before he was their friend. To perform in that function required a certain level of detachment.

Corvalis Mierdrym was quite good at detachment.

It hadn’t always been that way. Looking out of his A-wing’s clear canopy into the rolling blue waves of hyperspace, Corvalis recalled the crystal blue waters of his family’s summer retreat. He remembered the joy of riding the waves on his Durmonte Hydro Board, racing giant thrantas and performing acrobatic leaps in order to impress the society girls sunbathing on the pink sand beaches of the Mirrormere.

He shook his head, attempting to eradicate the memory. That was a time of luxury, a time of irresponsibility, a time before the war came and took everything away.

Few knew much about Corvalis’ past. It was evident to most humans that he was different. A native of the planet Firrerre, he resembled humans in nearly every way except for his long silver hair and the opaque nictating membrane that occasionally blinked horizontally across his oddly opalescent blue-grey eyes.

Though the Firrereo were thought to be a genetic offshoot of human settlers, the evolutionary changes were enough for the xenophobic Galactic Empire to officially label them “non-human,” a label under which the proud people of Firrerre chafed.

The clan-based government of Firrerre had, since the formation of the Empire, sought equal standing with human populated core worlds, and had loudly and vehemently protested the Empire’s oppressive designations upon them. This need for acceptance led one of their own, Lord Hethrir, to go as far as to apprentice himself to the evil Darth Vader. His willingness to serve Vader and the Emperor led to him being awarded the incredibly powerful position of Imperial Procurator of Justice. Essentially, he became the Emperor’s chief executioner.

Far from being the stepping stone to a greater acceptance in the Empire as many Firrerreo believed, Darth Vader ordered Lord Hethrir to prove his loyalty to the Emperor and to rise above his genetic imperfections by eradicating the embarrassment and potential rebellion brewing on the pristine planet.

Corvalis had been away on holiday on Ithor when the Emperor’s Star Crash Brigade unleashed the incurable hive virus on his home planet. In a matter of days, all life on the verdant planet had been painfully but efficiently disposed of.

Corvalis blinked back tears in the cockpit of his A-Wing, still hurtling through hyperspace. He steeled himself to the shameful memory that always followed such melancholy thoughts. He had gone to Ithor against his family’s wishes. He had stolen away on a flashy Nubian M-Type Courier to participate in a coming of age “voyage of discovery.” Looking back, he saw it for what it was: The irresponsible actions of a privileged child escaping expectations and responsibility.

He clenched his fist around the A-wing’s flight stick as he remembered the serene and non-judgmental Ithorians that came to rouse him from a drunken stupor in an opulent floating villa. He recalled sending his Twi-lek “friend” off in annoyance, as he hastily dressed and tried to understand the unusual stereo voices of his Ithorian hosts.

He hadn’t believed them. He accosted at them and told them to come back later in the day. They just looked at him with those blasted passive eyes. How disappointed they must have been to see that the last remaining bit of a dead planet was the worst it had to offer.

Upon sobering up and verifying the facts, Corvalis had sought to return home. Because of the planet quarantine, the Ithorians implored him not to leave. While it was months before he eventually left the jungle planet, when he did, he solemnly traveled to his home. He had to see it himself. He was not prepared to see the barren, dead world when he came out of hyperspace. Scans proved that there were no life signs evident on his home planet, but even so, he had thought about landing and making his homeland his funeral pyre as well.

Corvalis thought bitterly, Was it a need for vengeance or my own weakness that kept me from doing that? Or both?

There was no family to answer to, no tribunal to face, no jury to render him guilty except the one within his own heart. He had fled to his family's estate on nearby Naboo, but not even that beautiful planet nor the closeness of old friends could assuage the guilt and rage he clung to. Soon he was off to a new planet, one that he thought would be a suitable exile, one as different as possible from his own beautiful homeland and the tropical paradise of Ithor for which he had abandoned his people. He set course for the desert planet of Tatooine.

As bleak and unforgiving as the arid world was, it was in the desert that he had been reborn. He had been plucked from the desolation of spirit and heart by one who also knew the pain of loss and loneliness, but who had picked himself up and dusted off the self-destructive opiates of pity and anger like so much sand.

This mentor taught him to overcome his anger, step outside of the selfishness of his depression, and find purpose in hard work and responsibility to something bigger than himself.

He looked into passive eyes he had once found insignificant and weak but now saw in them a resolute strength to survive, and thrive, despite whatever horrors the universe threw at him. He vowed to never again be consumed by fleeting pleasures or to allow himself to fall into the destructive pit of despair. He vowed someday to be a fitting representative of his once proud and noble people, and to do everything he could to make sure his home would never be forgotten.

Soon after the news of the destruction of Alderaan reached Tatooine, he found a new home in the newly formed Shadow Squadron, in service of the Rebel Alliance. Though he had given himself wholly to the Rebel cause, the most recent atrocity committed by the Empire led him to push himself harder and farther in order to do his part in preventing more worlds from suffering the same fate.

It was that desire that had led him here now, commanding Shadow Squadron, protecting those who needed it from the destructive clutches of the Empire.

Smiling grimly he growled, “I am Mierdrym. I am Firrerreo”

“What was that, Shadow Lead?” Pa-hon Gin said over the comms.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Corvalis recovered saying, “Er…nothing. Sorry Gin, must have thumbed the comm switch on accident.”

“Let’s hope you don’t hit anything else on accident, Lead,” came the dry reply.

Corvalis heard several chuckles from the other pilots before Pa-hon clicked in on a private channel. “You okay over there?”

“Yeah, just thinking of home.”

“Hyperspace’ll do that to you.”

Corvalis nodded to himself before asking, “Hey Gin, did you ever think about going home? I mean before the Admiral came to us, back when you were running the cantina?”

“Sure kid, plenty of times.” There was a pause before he continued, “There just wasn’t much to go home to. Thera had gotten married to some Imperial Officer. My parents were gone. The friends I had on the Vigilant and back on Carida were spread all over the galaxy.”

Corvalis looked out into the swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace as Pa-hon continued, “I guess I just figured I had a better chance of making my own go of things for once.”

Smiling, Corvalis said, “You always did make a mean Solorian Slammer.”

Pa-hon chuckled, “Yeah, the cantina was a good investment, but you know I always wanted a job where I could play Sabaac all day without having the house come after me.”

“Yeah kinda helps when you are the house.”

“You know, I wonder if that scoundrel Winari has run it into the ground yet?” Corvalis laughed, “You know she's as slimy as a Hutt's hookah.”

“Yeah, well she’s got no love for the Empire at least."

Corvalis replied, “Well, I’m just glad the Admiral talked you into this little saving the galaxy side-job. It’d be a real shame to have to do this all on my own.”

Pa-hon scoffed, “The Admiral? No. I have you to blame for draggin’ me into this. Remind me to settle up with you soon huh?”

“Yeah I’ll get right on that.” Corvalis laughed.

He heard Pa-hon’s comms click as if he were going to retort, but instead heard what he recognized as frantic chirps from Queue.

“Pa-hon, what is it?”

“Standby, Lead.” Came Pa-hon’s unusually tense reply. A second later he said emphatically, “We have an uncharted mass shadow showing up ahead.”

“What!?” Corvalis checked his own hyperspace sensors but detected nothing to indicate an approaching mass shadow. “We are parsecs away from the Roche Asteroids…you don’t think…”

Before he could finish the question, an alarm blared in his cockpit and the automatic safety on his hyperdrive cut in. His little ship burst through an incandescent white wall into a star-filled void - and right into a fire fight.

Corvalis immediately pulled back hard on the stick and kicked his sublights to maximum power as an explosion rocked his little ship from above. He clicked on the comms and yelled, “Shadows, jump safe epsilon!” He knew that Pa-hon would break in the proper direction with him, leaving room for the rest of Shadow Squadron and the freighters to jump in system without collisions.

“Lock S-foils in attack position,” Pa-hon commanded, as the rest of the squadron jumped in successfully.

“Shadow Two, get me IDs on those ships.” Corvalis added immediately, but he didn’t need any sensors to know that the large ship in the distance was one of the Empire’s most effective and feared weapons, an interdictor cruiser.

“Copy, Shadow One.” Only seconds later Pa-hon elaborated, “We have the Corvette Argent along with what looks to be…about half of Vortex and Crimson squadrons. Argent has taken damage. Other than the interdictor, Imperial forces stand at four YE-4 gunships, six VT-49 patrol craft, five squadrons of TIEs, and…” Pa-hon paused for verification, “Yes, two Lancer-class frigates.”

“Is that all?” came the sarcastic reply from Bryn’s Shadow Four.

Lancer-class frigates were new and exceedingly rare. They were the Empire’s answer to the snubfighter threat exposed by the destruction of the Death Star. The 250-meter ships were studded with gun towers, each sporting a Seinar Fleet System Quad laser array. They also were incredibly fast for capital ships, out-pacing the Y-wings commonly used by the Alliance in straight-line speed.

“Alright Shadows, we need to help out the Argent, but let’s stay away from those Lancers. All freighters, follow us in.”

As he relayed his orders he saw a flash as the Argent’s shields collapsed, and began to see the tell-tale signs of hull breaches as it turned to flee from its assailants.

This posed a problem, as fully half of the freighters Shadow Squadron was escorting were incapable of keeping up with a fleeing corvette, let alone pursuing TIE Fighters and Lancer frigates.

Clicking to fleet-wide comms he said, “This is Captain Corvalis Mierdrym of Shadow Squadron to the captain of the Argent. None of us are going to be able to run from this fight. If we have any chance of making it out of here, we need to punch through and get to that interdictor. Shadow Squadron and our freighters will shield you as much as we can. Crimson and Vortex form up on us.”

Looking out across the battle zone Corvalis saw the X and Y-wings of the beleaguered rebel squadrons peel off and move towards them, but the Corvette inexplicably continued on the same vector.

Pa-hon clicked in saying urgently, “Lead, we have Imperial fighters at Four One mark Six.”

Corvalis spun around and kicked power from his engines into his shields, looking up he saw incoming TIE Fighters bearing down on them.

He armed his concussion missiles and said to himself…

“This…is not good”

 

Corvalis reflexively pulled the trigger at the on-coming wave of TIEs. Without a solid lock, he watched the small ships part, some spitting emerald fire at him as they rocketed by both sides of his tiny ship. His yellow plumed missile spun harmlessly off into space.

"Sithspawn!" he spat as he realized the extent of their dilemma. While he had been attempting to get to the beleaguered Correllian Corvette, they had been overtaken by a full squadron of TIE Interceptor starships supplemented by another full squadron of TIE/ln.

The deadly TIE Interceptors were the mass-produced successors to Darth Vader's TIE X-1 prototype that fought in the battle of Yavin several months earlier. They featured the twin ion engines that gave TIE craft their name as well as the distinctive dual solar panels, though these were bent at an angle, wrapping partially around the ball shaped cockpit, reducing the profile of the ship and giving the ship its Rebel nickname - Squint. In addition, these dagger shaped panels were tipped by four powerful blasters reminiscent of the X-wing's destructive power and spread of fire. Though they still lacked defensive shields or a hyperdrive, the end result was a well-armed, incredibly fast and maneuverable starship capable of out-performing nearly every ship on the battlefield - all except one.

"Ghost flight on me!" Corvalis ordered as he cleaved through the wave of enemy ships.

"As ordered, Lead," came the calm reply of Captain Rito, a veteran pilot from Tanaab.

Three X-wings followed Corvalis through the mixed cloud of TIE Fighters, quickly followed by Pa-hon Gin's Arc-170 and Shadow Squadron's nine additional X-wings. With the rest of his squadron unable outrun the TIE/ln let alone the TIE Interceptors, Corvalis ordered his squadron to engage, breaking into two ship flight elements.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

Pa-hon Gin confirmed the order to engage and flew in a wide arc around the ever growing and chaotic mass of spinning ships and streaking blasts of crimson and green. With him was Flight Officer Raynard's X-wing, tasked with covering the larger ship.

Over fleet comms, Pa-hon heard the panic-stricken voices of several freighter captains. Many of the larger ships had been pulled out of hyperspace closer to the imperial forces and were already coming within range of the Lancer frigates and VT-49 Decimators.

While some were heavily modified with non-standard shields and weapons, most fared poorly against the well-armed and disciplined military craft. He winced as he heard the cries of the crew from the YKL-Nova courier Morning Star as it was ripped out of hyperspace so close to an Imperial VT-49 Decimator that the two comparable sized ships collided. In the background, he heard the terrible sounds of ripping metal and collapsing bulkheads, followed by ominous static.

Immediately, the distinctive stereophonic voice from the Captain of the YT-1300, Manollium Flame, ordered the remaining freighters to fall in on his position.

Pa-hon switched to internal comms only and ordered his co-pilot and communication officer to establish contact with the Argent and bring them back into the fight. He noticed the third member of his crew, the dedicated gunner, spitting shots at any TIE that swung too close to the big fighter's stern.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ​

Pulling back gently on the flight stick and slamming into the ethereal rudder, Lonobabas Sama barrel-rolled over and around his wingman, Flight Officer Totinirl. His targeting computer illuminated the lead TIE Fighter in green, and he pulled the trigger, engulfing the ship in a hail of crimson death. The TIE's ion engines detonated, and the two Shadows streaked through the explosion, both firing at a flight of four TIE Interceptors screaming in head-to-head.

Energy sparked off of Totinirl's front shields, and his R4 unit screamed a warning indicating that the shields had collapsed. Growling in anger, the Talusian pilot held on the trigger, sideslipping left and right as the distance closed fast. Red lasers ripped off a TIE Interceptor's solar wing, and the helpless ship spun off uncontrollably before detonating. Another of his shots shaved the top half off a ball cockpit, sending it careening into a devastating barrage from Lonobabas' weapons.

Unfortunately, in the split second that it took to destroy the two TIE Interceptors, shots from the two remaining inbound ships struck Totinirl's upper starboard stabilizer. The unshielded S-foil melted and buckled, ripping off the fuselage and sending the ship into an uncontrolled spin.

Lonobabas, noting his wingman's plight, yelled into the comms, "You can't hold it Tot, punch out!"

He heard no response from his friend, and dread gripped his heart like a fist. The spin is too much for the inertial compensators. He's blacked out!

Rolling his ship up on the port stabilizers, he arced back towards the two TIE Interceptors, just in time to see one of them impale Totinirl's helpless X-wing on four stakes of green light. He yelled out in rage as his friend's ship expanded unnaturally, before exploding in a hail of micro-particles.

He angrily jammed the controls over to proton torpedoes, and instantly achieved a solid tone on the offending squint. He punched the controls and snarled as a blue streak rocketed towards the Interceptor.

The Imperial pilot, examining the handiwork of his own kill, was slow to respond to the oncoming missile. It caught him at the wing root, blowing his solar array off one direction and sending the larger part of his craft jolting with unnatural speed in the opposite direction...directly into...and through...his wingman's unfortunate ship. Both craft detonated with a massive blast that paled compared to the ferocity of Lonobabas's rage.

 

Ensigns Asos and Chif glanced at each other as they heard the distorted voice of Pa-hon Gin over the comms somberly declare, "Three is down."

Flying in tight formation, they overlapped their shields as they lined up shots at five spinning TIEs in front of them.

"Target the one to port, Chif," Susto said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the wave of fear Tot's death had spilled over him.

"As ordered," Chif replied. His voice noticeably shaky. When they were in range, their combined blaster fire engulfed the unfortunate TIE as the others broke in several directions.

"Stay on me." Susto ordered, as he attempted to chase down an Interceptor.

He groaned in frustration as the elusive ship pulled away from him, outpacing him as he lobbed a few optimistic shots in its wake.

"Two on our six!" Chif exclaimed loudly.

Susto swore violently and broke off his pursuit, pulling back on the throttle and banking sharply. Chif followed his move closely.

Looking at his scanners Susto called, "Nine, Ten, a little help!?"

"Bring it around to two seven mark three." Came the calm reply of Nine.

Leveling out slightly, he felt two explosions behind him and heard a victorious Wookiee roar!

"Thanks guys, that's two we owe you!" Susto said to Chervil and Matorullk.

"We'll collect on that right now, Twelve. We've got problems here."

Swinging back around, Susto saw the veteran pilots in a wild twisting engagement with six TIEs. The dizzying loops and darting blasts nearly overwhelmed the young Corellian, but he kicked in his boosters and dove into the fray, guns blazing. He traced a staggered line of fire across the flight path of an arcing TIE and punched two holes through the solar panel. The TIE looked for a moment like it would roll away and survive, but flying past it, Susto saw that one of the shots had hulled the cockpit, burning away the unfortunate pilot inside.

"Nice shot, Shadow Twelve!" Chif exclaimed emphatically.

Smiling grimly, the Correllian picked out one of many remaining targets.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

Corvalis flew through the explosion of another TIE Interceptor, checking his threat indicators for the closest target. Kicking up his throttle, he rocketed forward, catching up with the next interceptor as it moved in behind Captain Falgram Rito’s X-wing.

“Drag him Rito. I can catch him.” The Novaldex engines of the R-22 hummed as Corvalis opened up the throttle.

“Affirmative, Lead.” The older pilot replied calmly, switching deflectors to double rear.

The squint opened up on him, and he jinked left and right slightly, throwing off the TIE's aim enough to frustrate but tantalize. A few shots managed to hit but were absorbed by the sturdy X-wing’s shields.

The TIE pilot, focusing intently on killing the infuriating X-wing, didn’t notice until he pulled the trigger, and his guns refused to fire that something was wrong. By that time, he didn’t need the blazing alarm to tell him, as he saw both of his wings spinning off in opposite directions. The ship that had removed them screamed past him barely two meters above his top hatch, and he barely had time to catch a glimpse of the new craft before spinning helplessly off into space.

“You’re all clear, Four.” Corvalis called.

The two pulled around to head back into the fray when they saw a blinding flash as yet another freighter detonated under the assault of a Lancer Frigate.

“Shadows, form up!” Corvalis called. “We have to get to that interdictor.”

“And leave the freighters?” Susto questioned.

“Unless we get that cruiser, there won't be any freighters.” Pa-hon replied.

Shadow Seven, the Thyferran named Ristari, protested, “There’s no way we can get there through all of this!”

“Stow it, Ristari!” Lonobabas growled, but his comment was drowned out by a calm but authoritative voice.

“Affirmative, Shadow Squadron.” Came the reply from The Manollium Flame. “When the darkness is deepest, the light is clear.”

After a confused pause, Seven broke the silence, “What the hell is that supposed…”

Pa-hon Gin’s voice cut off Ristari as they all saw new blue dots appear on their scanners past the imperial scrimmage line, close to the interdictor cruiser. “Lancer Squadron is in. Moving on the cruiser.”

“Yeah! The cavalry’s here!” exclaimed Susto.

Neezlo sighed, “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a bunch of fat nerfs” he said, referring to the squadron of venerable, but well-armed, Y-wings setting up for an uncontested bombing run on the interdictor cruiser.

“Just in time too!” he added as scanners showed two more squadrons of TIE Interceptors and TIE/lns rocketing towards Shadow Squadron. “We’ve got more company.”

Pa-hon’s voice once again resonated over the comms. “We have additional TIEs. Unknown configuration. Moving towards Lancer squadron.”

“Sithspawn! Where did they come from?” the Coruscanti pilot, Shanda Bryn swore.

“They jumped in. Looks like we have a squadron of modified TIE Interceptors. They're gaining fast on the Lancers.”

For a moment there was silence as that information was processed. According to Alliance intelligence there were many prototype TIE models created in small numbers for high ranking imperial pilots and officials like Darth Vader. The ships were almost all small and agile with nominal shields and rudimentary hyperdrive systems but generally lacked the speed of the standard TIE Interceptor or even the TIE/ln. Whatever these starfighters were, they were no doubt more than a match for any Y-wing squadron though. And the Shadows would have to get through two more squadrons of standard TIEs before they could even attempt to help the Y-wings.

Grimly, Corvalis ordered, “Form up Shadows! Let’s do what we can.”

“Maybe we could help, Shadow One?” Came an unknown voice.

“Who is this? Declare yourself.”

“Sorry, Shadow One. No time for long introductions. Captain Tannen Bochry, formerly Crimson Five, currently commanding The RAS Argent.

“Corvette moving into attack position!” Pa-hon exclaimed enthusiastically.

As if answering Pa-hon, the large form of a Corellian Corvette roared over them, barely meters from Corvalis’ cockpit.

The large vessel opened up with a full barrage of turbolaser fire scattering the TIEs it didn’t instantly vaporize.

“Alright! Come on Shadows! Let’s get to those Y-wings!” cried Corvalis”

The squadron blasted forward at full throttle, accompanied by a distinctly Corellian, “Yeehaw!”

 

Allrighty, I'm finally caught up. Great work! You've got very well-done and well-paced action sequences, which is a tricky thing to do. It hits that sweet spot of the right mixture of emotion, dialogue, character actions, and narrative prose so that it's engaging while being follow-able. The Shadows have had a very eventful day, and unfortunately for them, it looks like they've got quite a bit more ahead of them before it's over.

I also really liked the descriptions throughout the story so far, and how they don't just paint the visual scene but tie it in to the characters' experiences. This was one of my favorites:

I also enjoyed this line:

for the sheer awesomeness of it. If only such a thing like the ego to shield shunt existed in the GFFA, LOL.

I hope we see more of Anix at some point. I like sarcastic crew chiefs who know their stuff, heh.

Excellent job! Looking forward to more!

 

Thanks! I really appreciate your feedback, and I am glad you're liking it!

 

Chapter 3


RAS Argent


The Corellian Corvette's massive drive block was blinding as it passed so close overhead. Corvalis' little A-wing was buffeted slightly by the ionic stream pouring out of the ship's eleven large engines as it roared into a swarm of TIEs at flank speed.

The Firrerreo commander jolted his throttle forward, quickly overtaking the Argent, and he led his squadron through the gap that the Corellian ship had opened. Streaking forward, Shadow Squadron dumped all their energy into their engines to reach the Y-wings of Lancer Squadron before they were overtaken by the much faster TIEs.

Corvalis judged the distance and grimaced. His A-wing, by far the fastest ship in the little fleet, was the only vessel capable of reaching them in time. Even he knew that engaging a squadron of veteran pilots alone was a suicide mission.

"Don't think about it, Lead." Came the warning voice of Pa-hon Gin, "That's no Nebulon B."

"Those bombers have to hit that interdictor, or we all die here Pa-hon. You know that."

On a whim, Corvalis switched over to concussion missiles. Calling to Pa-hon, he said, "Can you get me a long range, tight-beam lock on the trailing TIE?"

"Affirmative, but you're not going to hit anything..."

Not listening, Corvalis barked, "Good, do it now!"

"Confirmed, target acquired, uploading telemetry..."

Before he even finished the comment, Corvalis pressed the trigger, watching a bright yellow trail marking a concussion missile streaking off towards the swarm.

"That oughta get your attention," Corvalis growled.

As if in response, the squadron of TIEs crossed each other, breaking into two elements...both of them continuing their turn as the concussion missiles spun harmlessly off into the void.

Incredulously, Susto exclaimed, "Here they come!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

"I can't believe we're actually doing this Captain!" a young man in a red Alliance Flight suit protested as he slipped into a co-pilot station on the bridge of the Corellian Corvette Argent.

Gritting his teeth, and keeping his gaze locked on the swarm of TIEs bearing down on him out of the large viewport in front of them both, an equally youthful looking, sandy-haired pilot in an identical flight suit growled, "Just shut up and get someone to lock down that plasma leak down on four! We can't afford to lose the port side shield generator!"

The new co-pilot spun around and ordered one of the bridge crew to get below to lock down the leak, feeling strange issuing orders to a man several years his senior, an officer in fleet command no less. Surprisingly though, the older man snapped a salute and took off down the gleaming white hallway, gathering a crew to work the problem.

Icav Ribe spun back, a wry grin on his face, saying, "Hey, I could get used to this."

"You aren't gonna get used to anything if you we don't get these fighters off us!" Growled the defacto captain of the Corellian ship.

Icav punched the comms and barked, "Crimson, Vortex, fall in and engage these fighters! We're taking a beating here!" As if to emphasize the point, the large ship rocked as several TIEs made a strafing run against its already damaged port side.

Through the typical distortion of Alliance comms, Icav recognized the voice of his friend Joryk. "Icav, is that you!?"

Punching the comms the captain of the Corvette replied, "Affirmative, Seven. The Argent is back in business." He laughed as if he was playing a game before continuing, "Crimson and Vortex, fall in now!"

"As ordered Five...I mean Argent...Whatever! We're on our way Tannen!" Came the enthusiastic reply. The two pilots on their commandeered corvette glanced at each other for a moment and smiled.

"Now we have a fight!" growled Tannen Bochry.

 

"Eight, you've got one on your tail!"

"I got him!"

"Get him, Six!"

"Kriff! I had him, but I lost him!"

"Where's Twelve?"

"Tighten it up Shadows" Corvalis said as he lined on a modified TIE that was bearing down on an evasive X-wing. He waited for a lock, and pulled the trigger, watching a succession of bright red streaks lance through the shields of the Imperial craft, flaming out the ion engines and sending the bent-winged ship tumbling out of the fight.

"Twelve you're cl..." He had no time to finish however, as flash of green lanced overhead. He pulled a snap roll and yanked his agile craft into an impossibly tight dive relative to his attacker. The force of the maneuver was too much for the inertial compensators and he noticed his peripheral vision becoming cloudy as his blood rushed to his feet.

Grimacing as he came out of the loop, he noticed the two TIEs had disengaged and gone after two X-wings lining up behind one of their wingmen.

These guys are good, Corvalis thought as he called out, "Four, you have two on your six. Get out of there Rito!"

Corvalis kicked his engines forward, hoping to catch up to the TIEs chasing his friends, but even the A-wing's superb speed wasn't enough.

Over the comms he heard, "I can't shake them! This is Four requ..." Static.

"Four is down", came Pa-hon's strained reply, the sound of his gunners frantically calling out targets in the background.

"I'm all alone, Commander!" The young pilot named Irving called.

A Wookiee roar sounded as Shadow Twelve swept in behind the two TIEs ahead of Corvalis. A barrage of fire sent the two Imperial ships darting up and to port, evading both the snarling Wookiee and the persistent blaster fire.

"Bring it back around, Six", Corvalis called to Irving. "Form up on Mato."

The X-wing continued on a ballistic course out of the engagement.

"Six respond! Irving?!"

"Gin, can you get to Six? He might be incapacitated."

"I’m little busy here lead!" Pa-hon growled, evidently in the thick of the fight.

Sparing one last look at the runaway X-wing, Corvalis slammed his fist down on the console, before pulling back on the throttle and fiercely ripping the ship around and bearing down on the nearest TIE.

 

Great work! Definitely a desperate fight for the Rebels with a lot at stake. Having the Argent in the fight definitely helps, though Icav and Tannen might face their own challenges in the learning curve of being in a Corvette instead of starfighters. But the group is resourceful, and it looks like they'll need that with the opposing Imperial pilots being skillful as well.

Sad to see Four killed. Hopefully Six is all right.

Looking forward to more!

 

Chapter 4



A single Lambda-class shuttle floated in the endless black of deep space escorted by two hyperspace capable TIE Interceptors. A dark clad figure stood behind the stone-faced pilot and co-pilot of the ship, gazing out of the large viewport at the raging battle so far away. From this distance, well outside the interdictor cruiser's artificial gravity well, the battle appeared like a fireworks display, twinkling lights of crimson and green, accompanied by bright yellow and orange flashes.

The dark passenger knew that each silent explosion represented the end of a life. He could feel the inevitable spike of terror as pilots realized their fate the instant before death, and he reveled in the finality of each glowing ember in the force being extinguished. It was pleasing to him to feel the passions and hopes of each being, friend and foe alike, snuffed out like so many candles.

He thought of the endless candles illuminating the old temple of his youth. How he had yearned to blow them out one by one. The elders had told him that the flames represented the life force of all the beings of the galaxy. They could cause pain and burn the careless if not nurtured and protected, but together they were the light of the galaxy.

Clenching a black gloved fist, he thought menacingly, If only the light of the entire galaxy had but one wick.

Despite the rage welling inside of him, he remained outwardly impassive, fully in control of his feelings. He cared not for the outcome of this battle. The conflict had already served its purpose. It would be a shame to lose some of the Empire's finest pilots, but pilots were always expendable.

As if reaffirming his belief, he noted another flash, and felt the demise of one of the stronger Imperial pilots. A shame, but ultimately it was but a deepening of the comforting darkness. He continued to watch the beautiful display.

 

The TIE exploded in a blast of superheated gas as the twin ion engines were pierced by the A-wing's well-placed shot. In the cockpit of his small ship, Corvalis blinked at the massive explosion and continued through it, particles of molten debris flashing off his shields.

He let out his breath, That one was good, he thought, but not good enough. Checking his scanners, he saw that they were still in trouble. Though they were doing their job in buying the Lancer Squadron Y-wings time, and handing losses to the TIEs in the process, the more agile craft were likely to wear his pilots down to the breaking point. These were no rookies they were engaged with, and Corvalis knew that even if the Y-wings did the job, they'd be lucky to get out of the fight without any more losses.

His fears were quickly realized when he heard Shadow Two's voice, "We've lost Seven."

"He's just...gone." Susto said, "Raynard was right behind me..."

Corvalis didn't have time to worry about the loss of the Coruscanti pilot, as a particularly tenacious TIE was bearing down on him. He jinked his little ship back and forth as emerald bolts beamed past him.

He banked sharply, and flew through the ion stream of another TIE, passing mere meters behind it. He snarled with satisfaction as one blaster of his pursuer pierced the solar wing of the TIE he passed. Though it wasn't destroyed, on his scanners, he noticed it moving out of the fight on an escape vector.

Through the twisting and roiling storm of fighters, the two flew. Corvalis darted in and out from between TIE and X-wing alike, taking shots of opportunity, when possible, but never quite able to shake his dogged pursuer. His opponent had position on him and apparently also had the rare skill to stay with him. Knowing that all his pilots were locked in mortal combat themselves, it was only a matter of time before his skilled opponent managed the shot that would end him.

Before he could resign himself to his demise however, a TIE exploded in front of him. Turning his head to port, Corvalis grinned broadly as he saw a battered YT-1300 freighter come roaring out of the glowing backdrop of distant and burning wreckage. The Corellian ship was not alone however, as the light from the conflagrations was soon eclipsed by the dark and powerful form of the Corellian Corvette Argent in hot pursuit. The two Corellian ships, followed by several freighters in their wake, cut a swath through the hornet's nest of fighters like a scythe through Talosian tallgrass.

TIEs broke off their engagement and veered away, attempting to escape the blazing blaster cannons of the large vessels.

A bright blue flash demanded the attention of Imperial and Rebel alike, and Corvalis twisted to starboard to see the staggered impact of proton torpedo salvos on the hull of the distant Interdictor cruiser. The cruiser, taking a beating from the Y-wings, was forced to shut down its gravity well generators in order to engage its primary sublight engines to escape the well-armed Lancer squadron bombers.

Over the fleetwide comms Corvalis heard the eerie stereophonic voice he knew so well, "All units, the way is clear. Transmitting telemetry now. Jump to light speed immediately."

Corvalis engaged his flight computer and twisted his little ship around to flank the larger ships, making sure that all enemies were indeed retreating. "As ordered, Admiral" he said, relief evident in his voice. "It sure is good to see the Manollium Flame." He added, looking over to the cockpit of the old freighter.

A tone sounded, and he looked down to see the flight computer count down, "5...4...3..."

"Into the light, Shadows," he said softly.

"2...1..."

The countless stars elongated to embrace them all and, with a flash, they were gone.

 

The dark figure surveyed the battlefield from the distant shuttle, not needing to look at the scanners to know the dire state of the remaining Imperial forces. The large cruiser, blasted by the Y-wing squadron, was venting atmosphere in multiple locations. He could feel panic...death. Though the interdictor was barely space-worthy, it was in far better shape than most of the vessels it limped closer to.

The battlefield was littered with still burning wreckage as two heavily damaged VT-49s attempted to dock with the cold and dark hulk of the remaining Lancer frigate. A few TIE Fighters and TIE Interceptors remained, all of them hovering at a safe distance from the larger ships, as if they expected them to explode at any moment. Half of the TIE Advanced squadron remained, though half again of that number were damaged.

The shuttle pilot half-turned, slowly, as if gathering his courage to speak. When he found his voice, it was the clipped accent of the Coruscanti elite. "My Lord, shall we prepare a rescue task force? Most of our remaining forces lack hyperdrive capabilities."

Cold mechanical eyes bore down on the pilot, causing the man to sink in his chair as the sound of methodical raspy breathing filled the cockpit, "The strong will survive. The weak will perish. That is the way of things. That is the way of the force."

With that, the cloaked figure turned and disappeared into the darkness of the main corridor, leaving the pilot and co-pilot in stark silence.

"I suspect that's a no?" The co-pilot dared to speak.

Glancing nervously at each other, both reached out and, in unison, quickly pulled the levers sending the shuttle into hyperspace, leaving their comrades to decide who succumbed to the cold and uncaring darkness of space.

 

Glad to see the Rebels were able to escape, though it was a costly fight for both the Rebels and the Imperials. And now we have the Imperial who seems to have been behind the attack. Curious about what he considered to be the purpose of the battle, since he seemed to consider it completed before the Rebel ships were destroyed and it was something the Imperials were willing to expend skilled TIE pilots on.

Hopefully the Rebels will have a chance to regroup and recover a bit now. Great work!

 

You are the very best of my singular readers lol. Thanks for your continued support!

 

Chapter 5



It had been many hours since the harrowing escape from Yavin IV. The pilots of Shadow Squadron, the remains of Crimson and Vortex Squadrons, the Corellian Corvette Argent, and some of the remaining freighters had made several jumps along different vectors to throw off potential pursuit by their enemies. Though, after the last fight, it was almost inconceivable that any Imperial forces would offer much chase.

Through improvisation and temerity, they had delivered a heavy blow to the Imperial forces lying in ambush, one that their enemies would not soon forget, but they had taken heavy losses themselves. Losses that were likely to be deemed "acceptable" to the Alliance Command, but losses that Commander Corvalis Mierdrym felt were anything but.

The Firrereo pilot stared aimlessly into the unending swirl of hyperspace with the superb view his little A-wing starfighter offered him. He had replayed the battle a hundred times in his mind, each time focusing on the loss of one of his pilots. He had been flying for a long time now, and he had never gotten used to the dramatic shock of losing pilots under his command. Even though they knew the odds were against them all surviving in their line of work, none of them were ever ready for friends to be so abruptly taken from them.

Falgram Rito, Jaak Irving, Aric Raynard, Gravan Totinirl - all of them had been with Shadow Squadron since its formation. They had been through many battles together. They had laughed, cried, and survived together. Now, in but a few minutes of action, they were all dead. Corvalis didn't think about the requisition orders for new fighters he'd have to place, the myriad reports he'd have to compose, the letters of regret he'd have to write to families.

Sitting alone in his small fighter, hurtling through the galaxy, Corvalis Mierdrym wondered if they could ever make the Empire pay enough to erase the debt of blood it owed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
​

Tannen Bochry remained seated at the helm station that had become the captain's chair of the Corellian Corvette Argent. Looking over at the seat next to him, he saw his friend and co-pilot, Icav Ribe, reclined and fast asleep in his chair. Tannen smiled to himself. He envied his friend, who had the uncanny ability to sleep anywhere, under any circumstance. Tannen had gotten no rest during the long transit. They had both been busy coordinating repair work on the damaged corvette, as well as securing the cowardly Captain in the makeshift brig. It had yet to be determined whether the Captain's failure to engage in battle had been an act of treason or cowardice. Either way, it was apparent to Tannen that his crew had long ago lost faith in him.

It certainly explains why they were so willing to help two junior starfighter pilots take over their own ship, He thought with a wry grin.

He still couldn't believe what the two of them had accomplished. And he wasn't yet sure what the ramifications of their actions would be. They had disobeyed a direct order from their superior officer in Crimson Squadron (who had subsequently died in the battle), chased down and docked with a corvette in an unauthorized and highly dangerous manner, proceeded to act with the corvette's own crew to storm the bridge and remove a duly acknowledged Alliance Captain of his command at blaster point. Finally, they had assumed an unqualified command of the same vessel, piloting it manually into combat, eschewing all rules of procedure and engagement and placing the entire crew in eminent danger, only to be saved at the last moment by the very admiral who would most likely be presiding over their own courts martial.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the bulkhead above, thinking, Well, at least it was an interesting day. One to write home about. Assuming it's ever declassified.

He chuckled mirthlessly, causing the snoring Icav to growl and move to a more comfortable position.​

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

In the cockpit of the old freighter known as The Manollium Flame, Line Admiral Ieheeloonea Gaivee was equally introverted. Upon their last reversion to real space, the battered little fleet had received new orders from Alliance Command. The freighters, all save the Flame herself, were to continue on to the hidden base at Thila, while the fighters of Crimson, Vortex, and Shadow Squadron, along with the Corvette Argent, were to head along a little used hyperspace rout roughly parallel to the well-traveled Gordian Reach and rendezvous at Tharkos with the new command ship for the 13th Roving Line, the newly refitted Mon Calamari cruiser Star Tide.

It was a prestigious command for the Admiral to be sure. He was one of only a handful of line admirals commanding cruisers produced by the Mon Calamari Shipyards, and the only one who was neither Mon Cal nor Human. But that was a distinction that the Ithorian neither craved nor took much personal pride in.

He had advanced quickly in The Alliance Fleet Command, his steadfast determination to rid the galaxy of the plague of war ironically forging him into an effective weapon against the Empire. He had been given command of a squadron of fighters, led them fearlessly in battle, been promoted to the commander of a fighter wing, been given command of a corvette, soon a task force, and finally the 13th Roving Line, composed of several corvettes and frigates attached to the main fleet under the command of Fleet Admiral Ackbar.

Now he was being given a true command ship and a mandate to act independently from the main fleet, to prosecute the war against the Empire as he saw fit. Many career naval officers spent their lives waiting for such an honor. Ieheeloonea Gaivee, the former pacifist, a guardian of the Ithorian homeworld, simply prayed to the Mother Jungle that his promotion would put him in a position to use his skills to end the horrors of war.

If he had to lose his own soul in the process, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

A muted alarm sounded in the cockpit of the ships of the rag-tag fleet, and the three contemplative leaders casually reached out and pulled back on the levers reverting their ships into real space. The blue vortex of hyperspace collapsed in on itself, reforming into tiny pinpoints of light.

All of them looked out on a vast panorama of starlight surrounding a peaceful-looking blue and green orb. Directly in front of them, floating like some serene and powerful aquatic behemoth out of legend, loomed a proud and impressive vessel.

A gravelly Mon Calamari voice cut through the silence of space, "Shadow task force, this is Star Tide. Welcome Home."

 

Great update! (And remember there are always more people reading than there are replying. Everyone runs into that here.)

I liked seeing the various leaders' thoughts, motivations, and impressions during the travel time in hyperspace. Even though they're different and have different ways of going about everything, they're all working toward the same goal. Now it looks like they'll have a better means of accomplishing their goals on Star Tide.

I'm curious to see how things will work out for Tannen and Icav. It could be really bad or really good. I probably wouldn't have gotten any sleep then either, LOL.

Looking forward to more!

 

The Star Tide floated in the starry sea of space like a broad winged thranta in the open waters of Dac, the Mon Calamari home world. The Admiral's trained eye was able to see the recessed lines of turbo lasers and ion cannons that lined the rounded ship's otherwise smooth hull, but despite the ship's fearsome combat abilities, the Mon Cal's experience creating luxury cruise liners was evident in her sleek lines.

The massive vessel appeared to be more organic than mechanical, and that also appealed to Ieheeloonea's Ithorian aesthetics. He was aware that no two Mon Cal cruisers were identical, as the creators of the ships were as much artisans as shipwrights. Though this made the vessels notoriously difficult to service efficiently, it also made them unpredictable to enemies.

The Manollium Flame took a leisurely path towards the great ship, but despite their slow speed, the Mon Calamari Cruiser soon filled up the viewport of the YT-1300. Soon they were cruising only meters below the mottled gray armor of the ship, like a small parasitic fish clinging to the belly of a large cetacean.

Ahead of them, the fighters of Shadow, Vortex, and Crimson Squadrons were disappearing, two by two, through the yawning ventral magcon field that led to the main hangar.

Moments later the Flame herself effortlessly slipped into the hangar and waited patiently on repulsors as the X-wings, Y-wings, and A-wing were maneuvered by attentive tech crew into convenient side hangars, making room for the larger freighter next to the ship's normal compliment of shuttles.

No sooner had the four-toed feet of the Admiral appeared on the lowering gangway then the gathered compliment of bridge and engineering officers gathered in the large hangar had snapped to attention in orderly ranks.

Corvalis, who had just tossed his flight helmet to a waiting tech, tied his long silver hair back and took in the sight of the cavernous hangar. He lightly hopped down from his tiny ship and, still in his full flight suit, jogged over to Pa-hon Gin's steaming ARC-170. His wingman was just clambering down the side of his large fighter, his tired crew following behind him.

"Looks like Ackbar pulled out all the stops after all." He said to Pa-hon, catching his friend's own flight helmet as Pa-hon hopped down the last three rungs of the ladder.

Pa-hon looked over into the main hangar where he could see the salmon colored Mon Calamari admiral handing Admiral Gaivee a datapad, and taking the Ithorian's large three fingered hand in his own webbed hand as a jubilant wave of applause began to echo weirdly in the bay.

Pa-hon laughed, "He must’ve made Ackbar mad. Everyone knows the Admiral hates this stuff."

Corvalis chuckled and soon realized that the rest of Shadow Squadron, and some of the other squadron members, had migrated over to them. Looking out at the tired (and in many cases vacant) stares of the fighter pilots, Corvalis knew that he had to address them.

Moving past Pa-hon, he hopped up on the second rung of the ladder, and said clearly in the smaller bay, "I know all of you are tired, and you just want to get out of your flight suits and into a proper bunk, so I'll make this brief. We've lost a lot today - more than any of us really want to think about now. But we did our jobs. A lot more people lived because you did your jobs." Looking at the weary faces, Corvalis swallowed hard, feeling much older than his actual age.

"Look around at each other. When the lofty ideals we all signed up for seem far out of reach, and the pain of each loss is not at all soothed by the certainty of duty and honor, look to each other. Look at each other now." He paused, watching pilots of all squadrons turning to each other.

"This is what we fight for."

He saw a few of the pilots nod in agreement, others stared at him intently, many clasped hands and slapped backs with new friends.

Nodding resolutely, Corvalis said, "Now, if you'll all grab your gear and head towards turbolift C, there is a protocol droid assigned to us that will get us situated in our quarters.

He looked over and saw the transfer of command ceremony wrapping up in the main bay, and concluded, "Let's get settled in and cleaned up for the official ceremony tonight at 19:00. Dismissed."

As the pilots started to gather their gear and head for the turbolifts, Corvalis quietly added one more comment, "Memorial services will begin tomorrow morning at 06:00."

His pilots stopped and nodded, and moved off, together.

"You're getting good at this." Pa-hon said flatly, as he walked with his friend.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

 

Yeah, I imagine that's not the kind of thing a squadron leader wants to become good at.

Ah, the logistics and maintenance nightmare that is the Mon Cal Cruiser. Excellent ships for storytelling purposes, though.

Glad to see they all arrived safely and will be able to get some actual rest. I'm sure they have a lot ahead of them.

Great update! Looking forward to more.