Saga - OT Seven Seconds - OC Rebel pilot, ModTimeChallenge, 8/17/19, one-shot

Title: Seven Seconds
Author: Thumper09
Characters: OC Rebel A-wing pilot
Timeframe: approx. 2 ABY
Summary: A Rebel pilot is sent on a mission to a blockaded planet.
Notes: This is my entry for the Mods' Time Challenge, 48-hours-edition.
The prompts are as follows:

Spoiler

Your TV trope is: Accidental Public Confession
Your weather forecast is: Cloudy
Your random word is: Mellifluous - def: having a smooth, rich flow.
Your required line of dialogue is: "Don't bother; I already tried."
Your picture prompt is: (Original Link: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/time-time-management-stopwatch-3222267/)

Constructive criticism is welcome. Star Wars is owned by Disney, etc. etc.

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Seven seconds.

It was such an innocuous time frame. So short. So... insignificant. What could possibly happen in seven seconds that could have any true bearing on anything?

That was the problem. It was too short. It wasn’t enough time. If she had a bin full of colorful chronos that each gave her that time in a serial, cumulative fashion, maybe she could make it work. But this?

Based on Intel’s analysis, seven standard seconds was the amount of time Lt. Kutoka would have to slip through the only known blind spot in the Imperial orbital blockade of the planet Tosherin. And that was after reverting from hyperspace. Seven seconds to thread an incredibly precise needle at full throttle to make it from hyperspace to the planetary atmosphere, past the Imperial ships in orbit. Assuming there weren’t any random TIEs on patrol that happened to be plugging that sensor coverage hole.

Well, accomplishing impossible feats like this was why the Rebellion paid her heaps of credits.

Oh, wait.

The Duros took a deep breath and looked at her A-wing’s readouts while the blue swirl of hyperspace flowed around her serenely, oblivious to the chaos she was about to plunge herself into. Kutoka wished she could stay in hyperspace forever, but no, her starfighter’s chrono was counting down fast to realspace conversion. Her navigation vectors looked correct, but she wasn’t entirely sure if they were as pinpoint as they needed to be for this. Kutoka felt a brief pang of remorse for not having inherited the vaunted Duros trait of Magical Number Crunching so she could calculate them herself. Too many numbers made her head hurt and turned the concept of mathematics into Force-Imbued Gibberish. Besides, she half suspected that the fabled skill was all a lie anyway, a Durese story perpetuated by generation after generation that was afraid to say it was no longer true or never had been. It was just a way to try to stay relevant in a galaxy that didn’t have much use for them as a species anymore. They should go back to their ancient exploration roots and explore their way into and past Wild Space, leaving behind the destructive Humans and their Empire once and for all.

One of these days, she would find an opportunity to do exactly that: disappear beyond the known regions of the galaxy. Until then, she would learn what the Rebels could teach her about thinking on her feet and surviving on her own. Then she’d be ready.

The A-wing’s console flashed a warning at her to signal the upcoming reversion to realspace. An insistent, very annoying beeping pointed out that a large gravity well was directly in her path, and by the way, you dumb pilot, why did you override the safety protocol for this earlier? Did you realize it’s going to kill you?

This was it. Kutoka cleared her mind and focused. If the vectors were right, she should be coming out of hyperspace between two Victory-class Star Destroyers and practically brushing the upper fringes of the planet’s atmosphere. If either of the Imperial ships had maneuvered, sped up, or slowed down in the last fifteen minutes, they would detect her. If not...

She had seven seconds.

The reversion countdown reached zero. Kutoka pulled the hyperdrive lever, and the blue tunnel of hyperspace snapped into pinpoint stars and a very, very large planet dead ahead.

One.

Quick glance around. VSDs where expected. Planet Tosheran exactly where expected. Commit. Jam in the throttle.

Two.

Shields full front.

Three.

Divert weapons energy to engines and shields.

Four. Five.

Not covering the distance fast enough. Too far to go. Atmosphere flickering against shields.

Six.

Plasma flames increasing on shields.

Seven.

Fully in atmo.

Kutoka squinted against the blinding, ionized air impacting her forward shields at full throttle. A-wings weren’t designed for this, and their shields couldn’t withstand it. The starfighter’s systems started to redline from overheating, but Kutoka didn’t let up. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not for another few seconds when she felt more confident that she’d be out of sensor range of the closest VSD. If they spotted her, how long would it be until they started firing? Or would they scramble TIEs instead?

At the crazy speed she was plummeting down through the atmosphere, it took her a bit by surprise when the ionization suddenly let up. Just as quickly, a grey cloud bank spread out below her for kilometers in every direction. Kutoka reduced the throttle and hit the air brakes, and the A-wing plunged into the solid blanket of clouds. She leveled out.

Kutoka took the opportunity to breathe and take stock while the clouds hid her starfighter from visual detection above and below. Her shields were nearly depleted. The blunt nose and leading edges of the A-wing’s hull and stabilizers were scorched, along with the front of its bubble canopy. Some secondary systems had gotten fried, but her main ones would all be fine once they had a chance to cool off a bit. Her crew chief would be rather upset, but he could take it up with Intel. They were the ones who had insisted on this blasted mission.

Luckily some of her sensors still worked, at least the ones that weren’t in the A-wing’s forward section and cooked. Kutoka located her designated landing site in a forest outside of a small town and headed down.

She wasn’t expecting to still be twitchy and anxious by the time she landed. Usually her adrenaline would be worn off by then. When she opened her canopy and let the humid air swarm her, Kutoka caught herself looking up nervously at the grey sky, and she realized what the problem was. It was this whole fierfekkin’ mission making her edgy. The mere notion of the blockade made her heart pound. She’d never gotten over that night years ago when the Imperials forced her entire settlement out of their homes in the rain and cold and made them permanently relocate kilometers away. She’d never known the reason for it. She didn’t even know if there was a reason. Since then, Kutoka seethed whenever she saw the Imperials dictating the movements of sentient beings. Her squadmates joked that whenever they were in a bind, they knew to follow her because she always had an escape route. Well, there was a blasted good reason for it. One day they’d learn that.

Kutoka climbed out of the A-wing, secured it, and draped camouflage netting over the starfighter. Then she opened the small cargo compartment and pulled out a bag with a set of civilian clothes and a datapad. The Almighty Datapad. The reason she was here on this planet with a blockade above her. Because whatever Important Information was on the Almighty Datapad, it was Imperative that Mister Indispensable Rebel Who Can’t Get Off the Planet know about it. If only transmitted communications could get through to the surface from off-world, then she wouldn’t have to play Duros Express Courier, but no. Well, if the Rebels wanted to send one of their A-wing starfighter pilots on a delivery run instead of into combat, then who was she to argue?

Kutoka quickly changed out of her flight gear and into the civvies. She stowed the flight gear back in the cargo compartment and grabbed the Almighty Datapad. Kutoka gave it a dirty look before she secured it firmly in a small shoulder bag, and then she began walking to town.

*****

The drinking establishment where her contact told her he’d meet her was called Rumors and Alibis. Because if there ever was an inconspicuous, unexpected place for a clandestine exchange, it was a bar. But she was just the courier, so Kutoka agreed and followed the directions he’d given her over the comm after she’d landed.

Kutoka suppressed a shudder as she walked through the small town. Imperial Army troops milled about here and there, though they didn’t seem to expect much trouble from the locals. The few locals she saw on the street looked worn down and haggard. Stores and shops sat mostly empty, and some had broken front doors and windows that hadn’t been repaired. Few speeders were in use. Several dirty Humans were scavenging through a back alley. The cloudy skies above made everything seem even more dreary.

At last she stepped through the front door of Rumors and Alibis. It was late afternoon, local time. Unlike most of the other businesses Kutoka had passed, this one had a fair number of patrons, but her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that the majority were Imperial Army soldiers. She quashed the reaction down, reminded herself she was just a local nobody as far as they were concerned, and looked around for her contact.

Like Intel had told her, he was hard to miss. He was an elderly Ishi Tib with a very expansive girth. His bright-colored clothing seemed a bit worn and outdated but finely made. Despite secretly being a prominent Rebel, he seemed completely unfazed by all of the Imperials around him. Kutoka’s first impression was that he’d actually have no trouble ordering the Imperials around and getting them to do his bidding. He’d squeezed himself into a booth next to a window overlooking the street and gave a slight nod when she caught his gaze.

Kutoka casually headed his way and slid into the opposite side of the booth. The stench of brine solution that immediately assaulted her almost made Kutoka gag; the repulsive smell roiled around the Ishi Tib like personal shields. The wide-set eyes that regarded her from high up on the Ishi Tib’s star-shaped, amphibious face were indifferent, almost cold. His beak-like mouth held no smile.

“Buy me a drink,” he said in an undertone before she could get a single word out. At least that’s what Kutoka thought he said. His speech hiccuped with squeals and beak-clacks that made it hard to decipher.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Buy me a drink,” the Ishi Tib repeated. “We’ll draw attention if we’re not drinking. A Dorean brandy.”

“Buy your own drink,” Kutoka replied. “I’m not the one who wanted to come here.”

“I’m sure you have credits. More credits than I do right now,” the Ishi Tib said. The look he gave her wasn’t pleading or pathetic, though. It was almost... haughty? Was she reading that alien face correctly? “This is one of the few places that’s open in town, mostly for the use of the Imperials, and prices for non-Imperials have increased exponentially due to the blockade and to keep prices down for the Imperial patrons. Buy me a drink, or it’ll look suspicious.”

Despite the squeaks and honks permeating it, his quiet voice was almost mellifluous with a dangerous kind of charisma within. Kutoka didn’t fall for that, but she did note that his cadence was calm and measured, like there was no room for argument and he knew it. Regardless, Kutoka was going to argue– and she even took a breath to do so– but at the last second she thought about causing a scene with so many Imperials around. She swallowed her words with a growl, flagged down the creaky old server droid, and irritably ordered a Dorean brandy for the Ishi Tib. The smallest size they had. In a place where all the prices were overinflated, why did he need to have something that was already normally expensive?

“There. I ordered your stupid drink,” Kutoka muttered under her breath. She briefly narrowed her large red eyes. “Can we get on with this now?” As nonchalantly as she could, she pulled the Almighty Datapad from her carry bag and passed it to the Ishi Tib underneath the table.

He took it, awkwardly squeezed it around his excess volume until he could see the screen, turned it on, and began reading.

A few minutes later, he was still reading the Important Information on the Almighty Datapad in silence, and Kutoka was getting more antsy the longer she sat there. The server droid brought the small Dorean brandy and set it on the table in exchange for a substantial amount of Kutoka’s credits. If there had been sunlight coming in through the window, the brandy would have glowed with a golden amber brown color that Kutoka had always found beautiful, but in the muted grey from the clouds, the drink just sat there, looking dead. A few seconds passed before the Ishi Tib reached over and took the glass without taking his gaze off of the Almighty Datapad. He sipped the brandy slowly as he read.

“Interesting,” the Ishi Tib finally said, lowering the Almighty Datapad and turning it off. He took another sip of brandy.

“What’s interesting? What’s so blasted important?” The question came out before Kutoka could stop it. She bit her tongue. She knew better than to ask that, but her edgy nerves weren’t conducive to adhering to security protocols.

“Oh, nothing,” the Ishi Tib replied offhandedly. He finally looked at her, but the gaze hadn’t softened in the last several minutes. “I guess I should point you to lodging or something.”

“What? Why?” Kutoka asked. “I’m leaving now. If there’s a message you want me to bring back, start typing.”

Before the Ishi Tib could answer, movement out the window in the street caught Kutoka’s eye. Two children-– Twi’leks with smudged faces and dirty clothing-– were in the middle of the vacant street. One was holding a massive green and brown mess that dragged on the ground behind him. Kutoka’s heart leapt to her throat when she recognized the mass as her A-wing’s camouflage netting. She reflexively tried jumping to her feet, but she’d forgotten about the booth’s table. She slammed into it and fell back down into her seat. It startled her enough to make her keep herself put. Ignoring the sudden commotion she’d just caused, she stared out the window and fixated on the two Twi’leks.

The Holder of the Netting was proudly showing it off to the other child. “See?!” he said excitedly. Kutoka could barely hear him through the window’s glass and over the pounding in her ears. “I told you I just saw a ship land in the woods! I got this from it!”

“You saw it? You touched it?” the other child said in gleeful awe.

“Sure did! This is proof!” Holder of the Netting exclaimed.

“It still flies, right? We could fly off the planet in it! Or sell it for credits! Can you show me? I want to go in the cockpit!” Awestruck Groupie said.

“Don’t bother; I already tried,” said Holder dismissively. “The cockpit’s locked.”

Kutoka realized she wasn’t breathing when her lungs at last demanded she use them again. That kid had found her A-wing, her way out. What had he done to it?!

“I have to go. That kid found my ship,” Kutoka said, her mind and pulse racing each other.

“So what?” the Ishi Tib said. “I told you I’d show you where some local lodging is. I don’t know why you thought you were leaving right away. There’s a planetary blockade in place, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Those words grabbed Kutoka’s flittering attention, and she whirled to the Ishi Tib. “I am leaving,” she snarled. She felt light-headed at the mere thought of not being able to go, to escape. “I got in, I can get out.”

“Past the blockade? Don’t you think other pilots here have already tried?” the Ishi Tib asked with a honking scoff. “You got in through dumb luck and a hole. Getting out is much harder. Going out of the planet’s gravity well, the ship navicomps can’t calculate the hyperspace vectors in time, and they get caught by the Imperials before they can jump. Coming in, the gravity well assists. Going out, it makes it a hundred times harder.” He cocked his head at her. “Or is that why they sent a Duros on this mission? To not need to rely on the navicomp to jump out?”

It was one frustration too many for her frayed nerves to deal with. “My A-wing and I can get out!” she declared. Loudly. Too loudly. Her words seemed to echo in the sudden, still quiet of Rumors and Alibis.

The crisp voice of an Imperial nearby cut into the silence. “What did you say?”

Kutoka knew a rhetorical question when she heard one. She also knew an Imperial threat when she heard one.

There was one more moment of utter stillness. Then Kutoka launched herself out of the booth and bolted out the door.

*****

It was tricky losing the Imperials in the nearly-vacant streets, but things improved once Kutoka got into the woods. She used every quick trick she knew to throw the Imperials off her trail. She didn’t dare linger, though; the Imperials were sure to call this in, and every second that passed meant more forces, either on the ground or in the air, could be brought against her.

As she ran, Kutoka gave very little thought to the fate of the Ishi Tib. Something told her he wasn’t afraid of the Imperials here for a reason. Her superiors would be upset with her for potentially causing trouble for him, now that the Imperials had witnessed him interacting with a self-proclaimed Rebel, but those worries could wait. She had to survive her escape first.

At last Kutoka made it to her A-wing. Aside from the netting being gone, nothing else looked disturbed. She yanked her flight gear out from the cargo compartment and climbed up to the cockpit. She’d have to forgo changing into her flight suit–- there just wasn’t time-– but the rest of her gear she could don while she powered up the starfighter.

Kutoka skipped all of her nonessential systems as well as the ones she knew had been damaged during the atmospheric entry. The very first instant that her A-wing was ready enough and she was geared up enough, Kutoka launched the starfighter into the cloudy sky.

As she ascended, she evened out her power settings and shields. Something told her she’d need a good charge in her weapons very soon. She also entered her destination’s coordinates into the navicomp, but as expected, the navicomp blinked an error at her, unable to start computing the hyperspace jump vector and velocity while so deep inside the planet’s gravity well.

Stupid navicomps.

The A-wing burst out of the cloud layer and shot toward orbit. Just about the time when the sky around her started to deepen and darken in color approaching the edge of space, the sensors picked up a flight of TIEs coming at her.

TIEs were faster and more maneuverable than X-wings and definitely more so than lumbering Y-wings, but A-wings were more than a match for them. Kutoka didn’t want to waste time engaging the Imperial starfighters, but they were blocking her shortest escape route.

She fired and entered the most touch-and-go engagement she’d ever been in. Every time she fired minimally enough to get one TIE out of her way and slip around it, another would come in to fight her and force a delay. Finally she growled in frustration and put all of her efforts into destroying the four TIEs once and for all. It was the only way they’d stop blocking her.

By the time the four TIEs were flaming debris or crippled husks, ten more TIEs had turned their attention toward Kutoka. And here she was, still on the outskirts of the planetary atmosphere, still too deep inside the gravity well for the navicomp to start calculating, in an A-wing with now more considerable damage to it. She had to ignore those newcomers and make a break for it. Things would only get worse from here on out. She had to escape.

Kutoka punched her A-wing’s throttle in full and blasted away from the planet. The gravity well was slowly receding behind her. The navicomp struggled and its calculation process flickered to life as the ten TIEs quickly converged on the lone Rebel starfighter. Within a moment or two they would be in firing range.

The navicomp’s display blinked, and Kutoka glanced at it. If she continued on her current heading at her current speed (Away from There as Fast as Possible, as she always put it), the navicomp would have her jump vector calculated in seven seconds.

Seven seconds.

It was such an innocuous time frame. So short. So... insignificant. What could possibly happen in seven seconds that could have any true bearing on anything?

But time, Kutoka remembered in despair, was a flexible thing.

Seven seconds was an eternity.

The End

 

What a cool story! I love how seven seconds is just a blink of an eye coming in, but far, far too long a time leaving. Great character development of the Duros spy! You can really sense her aggravation with the whole dangerous, reckless mission.

It's so true; everything hinges on the slimmest of circumstances and one unforeseen deviation can throw everything into disarray. If those kids hadn't found her x-wing; if she hadn't spoken too loudly... If only.

Really clever story!

 

I love the element of time in this story. So much can happen in such a seemingly small window of time, yet it can feel like an eternity. So many things can change so quickly. Wonderfully done!

 

I've been very lax about replies. Sorry, everyone.

Thank you! Yup, this story ended up having a bunch of what-ifs and ways things could have gone very differently with slim margins. Thanks very much for reading and commenting!

Thanks! The flexibility of time has always been fascinating to me, and it ended up being something fun to play with for a story. Thank you very much for reading and replying!

Thanks so much! I always love reading your reviews. Patience is not Kutoka's strong suit, is it, LOL. Though I guess A-wing pilots don't get paid to go slow, so...

Like you said, the flow of information (or lack thereof) in a wartime setting will definitely affect the people farther down the ranks one way or another, and this story was a little trial to see how it could impact characterization. It made me think a bit, and I might have to play around with it some more.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing!

Wow, I certainly wasn't expecting a review of this level! Thank you so much!

Honestly, the picture prompt was the hardest part, but it was also what ended up creating this whole story. I had a bunch of ideas to incorporate all the other prompts, but I couldn't get the clocks to fit in anywhere. What ended up helping was finally noticing that they all showed the same time on them, then one thing led to another, ending with an entirely new story with entirely different characters. I was rather perturbed with those clocks at first, though.

Kutoka's snark was lots of fun to write. When I have to write really fast, my unfiltered writing style sometimes trends that way, so I just put it to use here instead of fighting it, LOL.

Nice to see another Duros fan. For as common as they're supposed to be in the galaxy, we sure don't see very many Duros around in official sources, so I try to include them when I remember. I think they're a fun, underrated species to work with.

Thanks, I'm happy to hear the open-ended ending came across okay for you. I was really uncertain if I should do that, but I didn't think trying to do the bookend with the time would've worked otherwise - I think it would have been lopsided and awkward if additional prose about her fate came afterward.

Thanks very much for reading and for your in-depth comments! Much appreciated!

 

Oh my goodness! What an intense fic! The urgency of some moments were palpable! From the seven seconds out of hyperspace, to the kids finding Kutoka's A-Wing, to the escape, but to leave it on a cliffhanger. Ahhh! Just so much happens and the fact that you wrote this on a time limit!!!

I love this moment and how there's a little callback to credits late.

Ahhh! I was literally holding my breath at this point!!!

Well, we know at this point the Rebels don't exactly pay well.

I just cringed so much at this moment.

Amazing fic!

 

Riveting challenge entry showing how a small amount of time (7 seconds) can be fast-moving versus real slow.

 

Such a great story that I recommend it in my reader's challenge. I'm still in awe of how you made this character so REAL and created such intensity in the scene.

 

Gack, I've been very negligent in doing replies and have owed a few for a while. I'm really sorry about that!

Thanks very much! I think the short time limit to write this helped make the pacing faster since I was already in a rushed mindset, heh. I hope the cliffhanger wasn't too irritating-- I wasn't sure if it was the right decision. I really appreciate your reading and your comments!

Thank you! Time is a wonky thing, isn't it? Thanks for reading and replying!

Wow, thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoyed it enough to recommend it-- that's an awesome compliment! Kutoka was lots of fun to write and develop. Thanks again!