GEN Presents:

Semi-spoiler-ravings:

This is one of those vignettes that had to be done: a nobody's account of the Battle of Endor.

It should be noted to the prospective reader that I have been most undeniably influenced by Mike Stackpole's awesome series "X-wing" as well as the Lucas Arts' X-wing Simulator. Unfortunately, my research team had the weekend off, so I cannot claim absolute accuracy with the Endor fleet statistics and attendance etceteras.

JOC

Description: Strap yourself into the Alliance's grittiest fighter, the A-wing, and experience a white-knuckled joyride with a pilot Mij Oc Ronno. Accelerate to attack speed and share a brief account of his adventures that climax at a little-known out-of-the-way vacation spot called Endor.

Author: James Arthur O'Connor

Rating: PG

Expertise: Moderate Fan with technical interest.

Category: Old Republic (Return of The Jedi)

Title: A-Wing

Dedicated to: The Nades-you crusty old spacedog!

Part I

Mij Oc Ronno eyed the threepio unit suspiciously over the datapad display it had just handed him. The silver gleamed 'droid straightened characteristically and returned the gaze with it's slack metal face and dollish backlit receptors. Somehow, the unalterable features and jerky servomechanisms relayed a sense of impatience. The pad figures were a blur of standard form and official muck.

Mij guessed the 'droid had little intuition into his own feelings, so he repeated the query that had begun his end of the confrontation: "What's this?"

The 3PO's optics flickered once, and it jerked it's upper half in towards the human's recline on the prison bench, presumably to better enunciate it's business. "Pilot Ronno, you have been assessed as an optimal security risk and are welcomed to the ranks of the New Republic. Congratulations."

Shaking his head to clear the silt of sleep, Mij sat upright on the cot panel and moped uncomprehendingly at the pad again. The essence of the 'droid's speech had not missed him, and already his three days of confinement were releasing their sluggish reigns from his mood, and a whirlwind of details raced through his mind.

Mij doubted the 'droid capable of lying to him, or being in error, but he could not help but look upon the messenger and it's news like a used landspeeder salesrep holding out a signature-shy contract.

This should have been simpler, he told himself. He glanced around the cell lethargically, and replaced his attentions on the stooping, silver 'droid. "So what's this mean to me?"

The threepio straightened and backed away politely as the human stood --as stiff as the 'droid itself-- and stretched. "You have been assigned to Blue Squadron, Fleet Defense. You have a debriefing with your unit commander at thirteen-hundred hours in the pilot lounge."

Mij nodded, and pulled on his flight jacket, a heavily padded remainder of a Sullustan merchant corps uniform. "Where's that, and what time's it now?" Because of his small, slightly chubby frame, the Sullustian garment was not too poorly fitting. What design had neglected, wear and tear had allowed. Only the sleeves seemed to show too much of his wrist, and Mij never attempted to seal the front fasteners of the usually-too-warm coat.

"Twelve Three-five, and I can escort you to the lounge myself, sir." The 'droid gestured with a formal jerk towards the open doorway. "Captain Nadeer will answer any further questions. You are his last initiate review today, sir."

Mij shrugged and made his way out.

The Threepio stopped him at a swing-shuttered hatch that formerly had opened to a storage bay, one of hundreds built into the giant cruiser. In a ship hastily re appropriated for the dealings of a war vessel, the cavernous bay was probably only one among many to be refurbished for a less bland function. The normal industrial light panels on the high ceiling had been hushed with hung cloth or disabled to give the interior a darker, and more appropriate air. A series of bulk containers had been placed strategically on the floor, fitted with necessary equipment and torched-open portals with countertops to act as island bars. Numerous items and equipment had been cannibalized, or simply turned just so, to perform as seating and tables around the open floor and bulkheads.

Specially calibrated sound systems fractured the space and roughly two bars apiece with many types of audio entertainment and festive lighting to appeal to countless appetites. One whole side of the room was filled with automated distractions, games and playing tables. The room, despite its immense size, was packed-- with beings, sounds, smells and activity.

With a gentle tap on his shoulder, the threepio pointed to a well-lighted table prudently situated near a prudently staffed bar. From it, a large, lone human was answering a toast from some hunching Calamari drinking a couple tables distant.

When the 'droid parted without further comment, Mij eyed the pad for a second, making no move to bring the darkened screen from standby, before centering his attentions on the indicated person. Even in the relatively generous lighting on that portion of the bar, Mij could make out little of his new commander from where he stood. Warily, he slipped into the crowd, exchanging curt nods or suspicious stares when required. The plethora of life forms astounded him, despite the fact he was no stranger to diversity. Sullust was not exactly the center of the Empire, but Mij had seen things. Still, he was careful wary of the blur of customs and personalities he was brushing by, some known and some unknown.

There was the nag of excitement in his gut, not unforgivable after three days in prison without more than three meals and some standard queries, but also he couldn't avoid thoughts of being mixed in the center of the Rebel Alliance at last.

At each knot of beings, he'd expected to be suddenly faced with any number of legends or myths the Rebellion had spawned. He once paused to examine a quaking Wookie but shook his head, knowing he wouldn't recognize anyone notable.

The short walk passed quickly, and then he was standing over the rotund, jovial human captain. The man had passed his interest in the bunch of Calamari and was conversing diligently with a multi-species knot of females at a neighboring table, his bass voice echoing over the unfathomable music, utilizing a language Mij was unfamiliar with.

The pilot placed himself on the opposite side of the table, and slipped the pad onto the many-stained surface. Captain Nadeer jeered a last mouthful at the other party, and calmly turned to meet Mij's examination, sunken deep blue eyes under a mop of dark hair measured him momentarily. Breathing in slowly to sober himself, Nadeer indicated the ejection chair next to Mij. "Siddown." He slid the pad over and enabled the display, while gesturing over his shoulder to a nearby waiter. He putted at the screen silently, punching in occasional codes, and directed the approaching waiter at Mij without looking up.

As busy as the lounge was, Mij's order arrived quickly, just as Nadeer placed the pad down. He noted something of interest as his eyes were leaving the readout, and whistled silently.

Mij took a sip as the blue eyes rested on him at last. He had a fair guess at what drew the impressed reaction.

"Well, Ronno, 'can't say I got a problem with yer file. I'm Captain Chira Nadeer, and I'm here ta welcome you to the Alliance, and Blue Squadron."

Mij nodded over his glass, and stayed silent.

Nadeer eyed him, and smirked. "Good- I like'em quiet. Lemmie guess the questions you got. File sez you came over with the Sullustani, um... envoys who came in last week. I gotta apologize fer yer internment, but we hadda check you out. Yer short friends had some nice things to say, or else ya mighta been tied up and missed all the fun."

Mij knitted his brow, and gestured to the blank pad. "I'm just overwhelmed with the courtesy. So, what else am I to expect?"

Nadeer swirled his own drink thoughtfully. "Well... first, I gotta tell you this unit's a little screwed up right now. See, I usually get in new folks, like yerself, and do initiate training, orientation, and then send you to a flight group that you qualify for. 'Always a plus when a newby brings in his own hardware, but I see we got quite a bonus with ya."

Mij couldn't hide his prideful smirk, and looked on expectantly.

The captain continued. "The Alliance don't have many A-wings yet, an'I don't know of anyone who's brought theirs own in yet. Most'vem we got an'set up with the elite volunteers. Tight bunch, and be hard to get into fer ya... take a while. IF things were normal. Due to some... THING goin' on... I gotta take my guys out as a regular squadron, and do up in fleet defense. This means you too." He shook his head. "Volunteer. Gotta say you made a lotta lists comin' in with the first hot A-wing..."

Mij interrupted, pointing at the pad for effect. "About my ship..."

Nadeer held up a beefy hand. "Still yours. Alliance ain't into stealing folks ships, 'ceptin' when their incompetent or dead. You ain't neither I suppose?"

Mij shook his head, beaming a confident smirk back at the captain.

"Good... course, 'last thing we suspected was a human... Corellian? Comin' in with them Sullustians." Nadeer drained his glass, and gestured for more, eyeing Mij as well.

The pilot accepted the offer, and fingered the wet circle left by his glass on the table. "I'm Alderaanian. My family worked with a consulate envoy to Sullust. I worked as a messenger for the embassy, the A replaced my old Headhunter a few months ago."

Nadeer nodded. "Noted. You got yer ship, but there's been some changes."

Like what?" Mij froze, uncertain.

"Like weapons." Nadeer looked for the waiter's return. "I'm impressed with you havin' the guts to work with a single low power blaster strapped on her, but the Imps wouldn't be so impressed. Take ya half an' hour to dust an Eyeball with that spitgun. 'Fitted stock cannons on the pylons and installed yer some functional concussion missile banks."

The pilot gaped, but before he could interject, Nadeer continued.

"Thank me later... better, thank Mon Mothma or Skywalker, I dunno... we need the fighters, thats why yer here, NOW, instead of just shootin' up targets on some backwater range. My whole squad's a mixed unit, all pretty new... not all that bad. But, ya gotta see, it's hard to getcha ta work together. We'll go down to the barracks an' meet the rest after this drink. Then, we'll log you and yer wingman on some sim time. Gonna be a nerf-ass ta do, prob'ly gonna hafta shuttle ya over to Independence to find a A-wing simulator, and tie ya in with the rest of the squadron remote."

Mij took his new drink from the waiter, and mused over it. "Pretty quick."

Nadeer smiled, mirthlessly. "Ya, there's somethin' big brewin', and maybe I can get us enough trainin' to be ready when it hits." He pointed a wary finger at the pilot, emphasizing the gesture with a mild belch. "Scuze... Damn admirals... wanna put my guys in to th'mix so fast. Numbers on a sheet... that's all we are.

"Tell ya what, Mij Ronno..."

The pilot looked up. "That's Oc Ronno."

The captain squinted at him, then nodded. "OK, Mij OC Ronno... tell ya this... if we survive all this... ya gonna be havin' some nasty psyche problems. Prob'ly end up neck deep in bacta fer my troubles. What's the OC fer, anyhow?"

Mij shrugged. "It's a long story... sir." The idea of rank was beginning to filter into him.

Nadeer raised an eyebrow and toasted his new initiate.

"Why'my not surprised?"

Mij realized later that it actually had taken two more rounds to clear him and Nadeer from the bar.

Captain Chira Nadeer was a son of an Imperial Bigwig, who was something terribly important to somewhere not-terribly-important at-the-moment. He had graduated Tie training before the first Death Star had been off the drawing pad, and trained up on the bombers, and as a shuttle pilot. He worked in the origin shipyards as a test pilot when the first interceptors- squints- were being tested.

His father apparently would be pressed to recognize his eldest son by face, having two others who drew his attentions and approval by being successful climbers in the officer circuits. Nadeer was fairly certain his closest sibling, Gylha, was in charge of a heavy cruiser somewhere nearer the Corporate Sector, and Rajk, the youngest, was an Imperial Palace Guard. A capitol ship under one, and close ties to the Emperor with the other, the Eldest Nadeer, whatever his own duties, had little if any interest in his lowly fighter-jock son.

Laughing at the immaturity of his jealous rages, Nadeer painted a frenzied few minutes of rushing and quick-decision that led him to the Rebellion.

A small contingent of Rebel Fighters --trainees he later learned-- attacked the fueling depot his shuttle was slaved to. Despite a generous cover of laser mines, and a light, experienced escort, the station was pummeled into submission in a matter of minutes. When the tractor from the fueling pylon holding his ship to the bulk freighter was severed by a power surge in the last seconds of the tanker's existence, Nadeer rammed full power to his sublights and tore away from the umbilical. His shuttle, unarmed, and with shields only at a fraction of power, rode the edge of the explosion right into the laps of a back-up squadron of Y-wings.

Nadeer's eyes had misted with the intensity of his recollection, a grin painted unmoving on his face.

The Y-wings, eager for live target practice, scattered in a fluky attack spiral as Nadeer tumbled his ship through the snap shots of half a dozen inexperienced trigger jerks. He pushed the engines past their redlines, and allowed only a fractional draw to shields. He knew his shields would mean little if he couldn't keep a speed competitive to the Y-wings while he calculated hasty hyperjump coordinates.

He was almost in tears-- this admitted with some embarrassment-- when the computer regurgitated his coordinate sets and complained about damage caused by improper umbilical separation, and the fines he would be responsible for after breaking safety regulations.

All this was the drama of one hand, one side of his being, while the other attempted to fly the bulky shuttle like a doghound fighter. Some unconscious part of him realized the grav-compensation equipment wasn't up to such maneuvers, and balanced his big frame against bulkhead-straining throes.

When the two closest Y-wings, coincidentally only a matter of kilometers from his tail vents, formed up and increased speed, he knew the games were coming to an end. The other four had paired off, and sat several hundred klicks distant, to watch the performance. Nadeer gave up on the Navcomp and concentrated on the sublight controls. Perhaps, he decided without hope, the Navcomp would snap out of it with a few more seconds delay to the inevitable.

Then he had an idea.

There were two manners of survival: evasion, or capture. The Y-wings were equipped with Ion cannons- IF they had a reason to use them instead of turbolasers, they could have a nice, well maintained Imperial shuttle, and more importantly, a living pilot of which. Problem: why? Pilots, and good pilots, were scarce, but not nearly scarce enough to risk a squadron's skins in a hostile capture maneuver. A shuttle held about the same value, he contemplated, but maybe a cargo? He needed Something important, something that would really knock their socks off.

Nadeer's mind raced as he opened the access to the ship's ID and profile transponder. What he was doing was an old game with shuttle pilots-- whom were said to be the best smugglers in the Imperial Navy. To cover a less-than-permissible cargo from the security detectors of a capitol ship or planetary facility, the ID signature of the ship could be adjusted slightly, if one knew how to be subtle. A couple cases of illegal liquor could be masked under a ration over-issue, and weight subdivided into minor overestimates of each of the crew's own register. The deception could, in theory, also be used to fabricate a cargo, though such a requirement hardly ever seemed likely.

Nadeer paused for a fraction of a second over the panel in decision. A case of good whiskey was not going to incur even a rookie Corellian pilot to endanger his mates or himself. After a quick rationing of options, Nadeer decided on a weight and bulk proportion that the Y-wing's mediocre sensors would allow without tweaking the distrust of the pilot or his astromech. His mind raced with possible fillers of the hypothetical bulk. So far, his plan had worked, and was setting up a fair opportunity. It had been a full few minutes he had been in the one-sided dogfight, enough to convince the wing's commander-- who was doubtlessly on his tail-- that the squadron had pounced more than the average courier.

It was a common tactic of all pilots, judging a cargo or mission by the quality of the pilots assigned to such. Usually flawed, but with enough exceptions to allow the idea to be one of the unwritten laws of combat, Nadeer never doubted the being in the lead Y behind him had any intention but to ID the ship on his first, close pass. Trouble being, the first pass was quickly approaching. The Y had a distinct sublight speed advantage over the sluggish shuttle, and Nadeer noticed he was mere seconds from a positive scan and ID. Ten to, maybe, thirty seconds later, his shuttle would become flotsam, and he would be holy. His mind blurred as the snub fighters closed.

Horton Salm whistled into the comm as the shuttle made another incredible evasive slide, which ended in a half loop that could have easily brought hypothetical weapons to bare on his awkward, anxious wingman. Salm banked out of the closing spiral and draw distance and clear sights on his leisurely foe.

"Break right gold two, keep on my eight! Sith!" A shuttle which had proven a match for a flight of Y-wings! The shuttle pilot had to know he was doomed--perhaps he could tell trainees encumbered Gold flight. Maybe he thought he was good enough to plot a hype --just a few megaklicks out of the system-- and buy some time. Salm doubted the Imperials had time to play with a Navcomp and figure any plots with the immediate danger of six Y's on their tail.

Still, a blind jump after the first few evasions had shocked Gold wing into standoff would have been Salm's first, best move. Strange that they hadn't. Gold One had little reservation or interest in the minor conflict. With his whole flight drawing optimal power from their engines to shields and weapons, the wounded shuttle couldn't have really endangered the prowling Y-wings. Even a ram maneuver would do less than frighten a fumbling recruit, while Horton doubted the shuttle could survive.

Salm made one resolution as he called his wing off the expertly prancing shuttle, and that was to scan the contents before he atomized the b*****d. He was embarrassed, and would be buying drinks until the Empire ended for all the Imperial's talent. Red wing commander had overheard Gold's banal struggle on the command freq, and had queried if assistance was required in the interception of an obviously advanced model shuttle. A real threat to the Alliance. Salm had ignored the jest, and shot a negative back before throttling up and sliding in behind the annoying craft.

After rebuking his wingman over the failure to avoid the last surprise maneuver, Salm traced his cross-hairs across the shuttle's stern, bare meters from the oversized S-foil. Close enough, that he noted some insignificant scratches on the Imperial crest painted on the vertical fin.

As he cut the Y around to line up his kill, the astromech above and behind him in the fuselage shrilled, and Salm tensed to cut and run. The ID readout flickered onto the cockpit board, and Salm's eyes widened as he absorbed the information. Comm traffic increased tenfold as his 'droid automatically transmitted the readout to the other units within range.

"Gods! Gold Wing! Enable Ion Cannons... NOW! I want no... I repeat, NO further turbolaser exchange with the shuttle. Gold two, take the flock and keep'em off. I'm going in to disable the shuttle."

Salm switched to command frequency. Already the line was alive with calls and verifications, and Gold one distinctly heard the dispatch of a corvette amidst the squabble. With a grin, he tucked onto the shuttle's six, matched it's speed, and clicked over his fire control to the Ion battery over his head. The HUD went from green to red as the dancing shuttle lumbered through its maneuvers, and Salm depressed his firing stud.

Nadeer winced as energy splashed and diffused across his rear shields, and the cockpit rattled and rolled under the impacts. An arc of energy across the rear access panels and energy conduits, and Chira knew his shields were gone. The lighting in the ship switched from steady white to the smoky red of emergency power, and the pilot jerked from the controls as they sprayed sparks and component parts. The shuttle drifted despondently on it's own inertia, all control disabled.

Chira Nadeer celebrated quietly, DISABLED it was! Alive. He stood and performed a short jig behind his ejection seat, before movement beyond the shuttle's windscreen drew his attention. A coppery Y-wing, gold stripe bisecting the fuselage, dipped on repulsorlifts to align the cockpits, and a quizzing human face squinted in from the snub fighter's own cockpit. The remote ion guns tracked with the pilot's close examination of the shuttle a few moments and then the fighter blurred away.

In the distance, a Corellian corvette darted from hyperspace and rolled in towards the stricken shuttle. What seemed a phalanx of fighters, X-wings, Z-95s, Y-wings, spread out from around the larger ship as the Gold stripe ships, and another more distant squadron, spat away into hyperdrive. The corvette hovered overhead, and Nadeer sat at the clunk and groan of a tractor playing across his ship.

Nadeer slowed Mij with an out swept arm, and diverted the Alderaanian into an unspectacular hatchway off the minor corridor they had set off from the lounge. He led the pilot into a cramped crew quarters beyond as he ended his story. "It took the Rebs about a year to begin trusting me. By then, I'd seen a barred view of about a dozen different worlds, and helped them fight their way off of more then one. There wasn't no problem with my pilot credentials, so here I am."

Mij examined the room thoughtfully. It was a long access corridor, which had been subdivided by bolt-on barricades and bulkheads into more than a dozen tiny rooms. Poking from reclines behind curtained doorways, lazing against the corridor wall, bunched into the occasional knot of conversation, were the pilots of Blue wing. Some, many faceted, faces paused to glare suspiciously at the two new arrivals, most attentions centered on Mij, who shuffled self-consciously beside Nadeer's dwarfing bulk.

Before things continued, Mij tugged at Nadeer's sleeve. "Guess I cannot complain about a few days in the stockade then, by the way, what the hell did you tell the Y's you were carrying?"

The chubby captain opened his mouth to respond just as a Bothan male came from a nearby doorway and made a show of observing Mij, and the odd features were unmistakably bent by a disapproving scowl. "Is this our A jock, Captain?"

Nadeer nodded, presenting the smaller pilot with a flourish. "Yes, Lieutenant Gredsk, meet Mij Oc Ronno, ahr latest hurtle."

The Bothan nodded to the Alderaanian, and eyed Nadeer suspiciously. "Were you characteristically informing our new comrade about your illustrious introduction to the Alliance?"

The captain shrugged innocently. "Of course, 'was gist gonna tell'em the punch line."

The Bothan showed some teeth and trembled-- probably in mirth. "Ah, yes, our fearless captain pretending to play nerf-herder for Darth Vader."

Mij gaped despite himself, and stared at the big man's sheepish grin.

Introductions were many, names were varied, and receiving attitudes assorted from dismissive humor to deadly mistrust. At any given time, Blue had twenty-four pilots. Support and organization, beings and 'droids, stretched the number closer to forty personnel. The size of Blue Wing was unusual due to its mission, orientation, initially not a combat unit. Most units grouped according to hardware, but Blue Wing boasted the oddest array of any Alliance squadron. Seven X-wings, ranging in age from prototypes to still unscarred beauties just free of packing material. Six Y-wings, and like the X's, various ages and origins ringed the bunch: ConSec, CorpSec, Imp, Pirates and Privateers, just to name a few. Seven grizzled pilots proudly drove old Headhunters-- Z-95's-- in waiting for more updated replacements. Two vessels were more exotic hybrid mod-jobs based on planetary shuttles. Mij was the last on the list, filling a slot left by a certain Y-driver who scraped a cargo container on a scan pass. The less-than-popular Thyferian ripped a nacelle on four-hundred thousand tons of Bacta, and shattered himself and a neighboring bulk of Hoonda Fruit extract, all the time going on about his dislikes of the treatment based around the prior container's contents.

Actually few of the pilots had any actual experience fighting Ties. The Bothan, who was also the XO, did, as did a sprinkle of others. Mij himself admitted to evading but never being armed to offer a significant threat. He added though, that the A-wing itself was quick enough to avoid the need for weapons in an escape situation. Pilots nodded with their crews, and Mij found himself somewhat esteemed with to his ship. He answered a slew of technical questions, and spent a wonderful day of reunion with his ship's cramped corner park in the cruiser's vast hanger.

Warda was his mother's name, and also that of his A-wing. Though the few months had been hard traveled, the A named Warda drew many a glance in the crowded hanger. Mij slid his hands over the slick body in pride, examining the newly installed twin lasers mounted at the tip both wings on the roughly deltoid craft. A fresh stripe of blue halved the fuselage, and quartered against the stock white glaze on the top and bottom wing surfaces. The openings of the torp bays hinted at some shining, new metal components inside and Mij found himself stumbling into the cockpit. Without the need for guidance his hands flew over the controls and power hummed through the tiny cockpit. Off of the port wing, Mij quietly noticed a pride-glowing Tw'ilek-- the squadron's crew chief, Bog-hta-- observing the human's excited reaquaintence. Mij silently reserved the chief some personal time and many, many drinks.

Gauges and meters snapped to life, standard warm-ups flashed, and the twin engines reported ready-to-light. Diverting his habitual lunge for the starter, Mij instead scrolled through the maintenance log, and ran the on-board computer through a self test. The A was too small to boast an astromech 'droid like an X or Y wing, so the onboard comp ran roughly the same functions and efficiency of an Artoo, with subroutines for Hypercourse plotting and target and missile coordinations. After a space, Mij pulled himself upward on the g-seat, fingering the two large knobs on his control yoke that had never been functional before. Now, with the whine of servos and clicks of boresighting retainers, the wing tip cannons pivoted up and down, spinning in smooth three-sixties. Playing with the switches, Mij operated the cannon orientation in tandem, and each cannon individually. He smirked. This one, tiny detail of the small ship would surprise more than a few Imperials-- fatally. He paused, thoughtful as he cycled the cannon align system. With a series of mechanic warbles, and ship automatically realigned and sighted the lasers, signaling completion with a pleasant beep.

Things were going fast. Too fast. Mij was now heavily armed, and accepted into a combat wing. He had yet to fly with an organized force. Had he faced Imperials? Yes-- but on his own and alone in his Headhunter and later in the little A. The weapons were mainly the jabs and threats of conspiracy and deceit as he escorted embassy ships to and from many places. Imperials hovered by and demanded. Pirates feinted in and snaked away with the threat of fighter cover. Defense forces held nervous digits over firing studs as he calmly escorted his marks through planetary screens. Now it was war: No simple games of threat and deception. Mij Oc Ronno felt a twang of uncertainty, as he wondered about his squadron mates and his commanders. Of his own flying Mij had little worry, as he began the shutdown sequence, and promised to question the chief or Nadeer about engine fire and shakedowns.

Proving himself would be done in the simulator.

The stars reconstituted around his ship as Mij returned to normal space. The simulator hyperjump was a fair representation of the real thing, although the duration was a standard minute or two-- no matter the destination-- and lacked the strange feelings of energy exchange a being felt in any number of awkward anatomical places at the onset and withdrawal. It could like a sickness he mused.

There was an annoyed squawk from his comm, and with a sigh, Mij throttled the A wing back to await the others of Blue squadron to catch up from the hyperjump out point. The smaller ship continuously shot clear ahead of a hyperspace debarkation with an healthy burst of speed; a habit unique to the design. Bog-hta had been baffled-- but any fleet A wing that escorted slower ships had the exat same annoyance. There had been no cases of danger or threat from the phenomenon, so A pilots were simply instructed to throttle back on debarkation and await catch-up by their companions.

Mij had immediately noted the lack of this problem with the simulator, and informed Nadeer, who, in turn passed on the information. After two or three more exercises the sim began to add in the extra-hype jump as habit. Little by little Mij felt more at home.

Movement to his right-- and his wingman for the exercise, Lt. Gredsk slid into position bare meters away. Mij could see silhouettes of his exaggerated gestures from inside the X wing's tinted canopy.

"Now that Blue Two's done showing off-- form up Blue elements, and look sharp."

Mij smiled. "Roger that. Blue two standing by for slowpokes."

The rest of the flight consisted of four other X wings and in groups of two the six fighters aligned in a spearhead with Blues one and two as the tip; the others angled off and back slightly with each navcompas point. They reported in as they took up their part of the formation-- a habit required after any hyperspace jump. Rarely, but frequently enough to warrant attention, ships, especially small ships, were separated in hyperjump by any number of calamities. The sim could occasionally throw in a mishap as such on any exercise so leaders stayed sharp to it. Mij had spent one exercise re-plotting jump points back to home when after entering hyperspace with his wing mates, he inexplicably appeared in norm space alone and way off course. The others had some weird ideas about who was buying drinks for that fluke-- which he did from the second the sim curtains parted to the next exercise, days later.

Somebody always found a reason to buy. Those who bought were usually dead as the sim ended.

Mij noted his scanner, and saw the screen highlight a number of details of the system. Throughout the pre-action briefing the name had eluded him, as most pilots found only certain aspects of the many varied scenarios of importance. Like the holo had shown in the squad room, Blue section was flying into a scantily populated fringe group with a giant red star ringed by several treacherous asteroid belts, the remainder of naturally doomed and ancient planets. Only one primary planet, a small ice ball nudged between the belts remained, as well as many asteroid-spawned moonlets. On the outer belt's out-system edge was placed an automated refinery and ore station showing Imperial Charter.

The station's activities had annoyed some scenario programmer or another, and it had been determined that the target should be destroyed by successive bombing runs by Blue's Y-wings. With the six fighters of Mij's section performing a system-edge screen the remaining ships of the unit were acting as close escort to the Y's. After a few minutes the Y's and the escorts flashed into substance a few thousand kilometers from the station at a normal departure point for the ore freighters that frequently visited the facilities.

Relaxing back, Mij settled to listen to the gaggle of voices from the bomber section as the ships recovered from their jump and formed on attack vectors. The station was awash in a complicated mine field, which was plumbed cautiously by the Blue bombers and their escorts. The chaotic mass of robot ore diggers, security scanners, asteroids and mines made for a confusing, if target rich run, and lasers lit the entire section for what seemed hours. Finally the bomber leader announced a clear torpedo corridor had been blasted away, and the Y's launched a wave of protons at the mining station.

Mij sighed a yawn as the station boiled into a consuming ball of energy and shattered matter and the successive wings of the bomber group darted back into hyperspace. The A wing pilot yawned as Gredsk came over the comm. "OK Blue, that was an easy one. Let's go home and spend some-"

Even as the Bothan spoke, Mij heard the XO's Artoo shriek over the comm. Mij jumped awake and scanned his instruments. A large, very clear contact melted into space just sunward of their position. Mij fumbled for his comm key to report as Blue One regained the link. "Oh sith... Blue elements... I show an Imperial Interdictor class cruiser at four thousand. Accelerate to attack speed and proceed out-system. Target isn't blocking our escape vectors, but if we jump now, he can follow us to our next...wait... wait..."

Mij watched as a pepper of red dots, indicating Tie fighters, winked from the bays of the cruiser. Range estimates scrolled past at unreadable speeds, even as the squadron reversed direction away from the attack. He selected a single target for ID, and began powering his weapons, drawing a large charge to build his shields. He patted the dash of the A. The other ships of Blue were at best flying on no engine draw, and keeping their weapons down to maintain a high escape speed, at which he could build energy at leisure.

"Sithspawn! OK Blue... we got to run out of system to coordinates packet three... sending... to mask our escape vector from the cruiser. Those fighters are closing quick, but it also means it'll take'm time to recollect'em before he can pursue us. By then, we can be past another jump point." The XO's voice was unsteady, but not panicked. A flash, and Mij looked down to see his ID screen had recognized the contact as a squint- or Tie interceptor. ID'ed already? The fighters were already too close. He thumbed his comm. "Blue One! They're almost on top of us... "

"I know Two... we can't get any faster without dumping our weapon and shield charges... that's no good if they catch us before we jump." Gredsk was slightly out of breath.

Mij paused. "Then dump 'em... I'll keep the squints busy while you vector out!" The A Pilot smiled. This was a fun scenario-to be a real Simulated Hero. He wondered if they ever gave out simulated awards, or funerals....

"Negative Two... you may have the hotrod... but I count twelve targets. You can't take em all on yourself." Mij could see Gredsk shaking his head in his cockpit.

The Alderaanian persisted. "We haven't got time for this! I can slow'em down and then get out of here on my own." He noted the distance; the squadron was just out of the Tie's extreme laser range. "Do it one... I can handle this... you'll just owe me a lot of lum."

The sudden glare of ineffective laser fire bathed the back of the X wing, and Mij glared at the dark canopy. After a moment, "OK, Two's got it... Blue, dump your power into engines and make best speed to debark point. Blue Two, do your best to keep them off us before we jump." Gredsk sounded tired.

"Roger One... get out of it!" Mij smirked, and cut the A out of formation and in a wide arc back at the approaching ties. At the midst of his loop, green incandescence began darting by his ship, as tie pilots took token shots at the approaching A wing. The X wings surged away under added thrust.

Mij closed too rapidly with the Tie formation to attempt a missile shot. He dove through the forest of gray and black squints and tapped his laser trigger quickly, which highlighted the closest interceptor. He flicked a toggle on the topside of his yoke with his thumb, putting the fire control of both wing cannon in tandem-- so they would both fire at once. The rate of fire would be slower, but he didn't aim to win by randomly hitting anything. Clean shots. He brought the laser charge down to nominal drain from the engines and set his shields the same. His ship's speed improved with the power distribution as he was cutting out of a steep bank to close with the painted squint. "Got to start somewhere." He mumbled to himself.

The squint came on firing, but its shots went low as it ducked under his nose and to starboard. Mij tucked down and to port, tipping the little fighter on it's side and sliding in behind the curving bent-wing tie. The reticule glowed green as he dipped in on the target, the comp addressing such aspects as lead and deflection, but Mij had used the sim too much to trust the computer. At the right moment he squeezed his index finger, and two red lances seemed to jump from his shoulders to spear the tie. One severed the connector between the solar panel and the ball, the other neatly shearing into the top hatch of the fighter's cockpit. The fighter jerked away as a streak of green buzzed past Mij's canopy. A flare behind him gave him his kill verification as he cut the A into a high climbing turn to port away from the path of the out-of-control squint. Using his trigger he painted the next nearest tie, which was the one on his tail. As he turned to engage this enemy, another tie crossed his vision and he decided to mark on it.

The tie looped lazily-- probably trying to regain his wingman, Mij guessed-- as he cut onto it's path and triggered a burst from a fair distance. One shot skewered a bent panel and the other went wide. A series of pounding impacts shook his seat, and green splashed over his shields. Mij juked out of the tie's line of fire and around in an arc, eyeing his screen and laser charges. His shield indicator showed a dim yellow on the rear, safe green otherwise, so he cycled his shields through the distributor, dropping all points a notch to even out the rear. Even as he did, more shots careened over the right wing. He jerked the yoke and shoved the left pedal to the floor, cutting into the Tie's attack and closing the distance before it could fire again. The earlier tie, still painted, exposed itself and Mij took the opportunity to swing in on him from above.

He fired again, both bolts striking home. One giving a matched holing to the opposite panel, the other shaving through the engine pods. The fighter vaporized before him, and he shot through the expanding fireball. Green fire followed him through, as the persistent tie on his tail stuck tight.

On an urge, Mij checked his screen. "Damn!" Four fighters had split and were harassing the rest of Blue's escape. He kicked his fighter up and towards the escaping X wings.

In his peripheral, he noted the six red dots of the remaining squints after him, in varying degrees of brightness, the brightest being the closest. A flash, and as he watched, the X wings shot away into hyperdrive. Exalting, Mij ducked his fighter away and towards another direction. Straightening his course, he nudged the hypercomp to life and dumped his laser power to his engines. The red dots on the rear display became dimmer as simulated tie pilots refused to venture too far from their mother ship.

A shocking, gigantic blur of motion and the Interdictor rumbled past his course, entering hyperspace. Mij checked his rear scanner. There were still six fighters behind and four more coming in from the rear starboard after abandoning the pursuit of Blue.

Mij was suddenly a very, very hot item on the Imperial market.

The Alderaanian puzzled. The cruiser left her fighters dry? Hyped to where? For one lousy A?

Suddenly, Mij Oc Ronno got his answer. The cruiser hove into view directly ahead and the scanner shrilled of twelve more contacts from darting from her bays.

"Sith!" The cruiser had performed a short, in-system jump to block the A wing as it straightened for the hyperspace jump. Now getting away was much more complicated. Mij was being squashed between the system, with an approaching group of ten ties, and the cruiser, with another dozen.

He powered his lasers, and scraped a few kps for some supplements into his shield as he kicked the fighter over and away from the cruiser. At a fair distance he could angle up or down on the system elliptic and make a hyperjump. The cruiser's commander staked most of his ties on the in system-jump trick, so he would be pressed to recollect them all to chase the A wing deeper into space.

Now the ties were coming back into range. Accepting what charge his lasers had taken he put the laser/engine connection back to nominal and gained a little more speed. He allowed the shields to strengthen knowing that most of his moves would have to be defensive in those next minutes.

He sped under the ten fighters, which banked in after him like wombat hunters. Another glance, another heartbreak, as Mij saw his fuel levels: His pre-marked limits were minutes away.

Green lasers pummeled his screens from above and shots went wide from below. He jerked the A into an evasive spiral and broke out into a steep climb back in upon the spiral course. Just as he had figured, a tie sped numbly by his sights, speeding to distance itself and reacquire the dogfight. Mij gave that pilot no chance to do so. He cut to port, veering in behind the tie tipped on his left wing. He fired, sending both shots into the squint's ball. The tie vanished in a flash, its armored panels shimmering into space.

In his rear scanner the cruiser was still angled behind to port and all the ties were now behind him. He noted his rear screens showing red, but concentrated on enabling the Navcomp. The panel warmed up as numbers swam through it's circuits. "Nothing fancy... just outa here!" He begged the machine. He had just turned to the shield distribution when all hell broke loose.

A swarm of green lines zipped by on all sides and the A wing rattled with assault. Mij's finger had just tapped the shields cycle key when there was an enormous flash. The panel in front of him shattered, and he instinctively ducked deep into the ejector seat to avoid the non-substance shrapnel.

Mij watched in fascination as the debris cleared to show a massive hole tunneled through his forward controls, and noted that as he reached for the yoke, his hand closed on empty air. The stick had been severed a foot from it's top, in line with the hole in his panel. The canopy shattered with another nova impact and he watched his port engine lifting from it's ripped housing. There was suddenly no sound and as he looked the spinning stars faded to black.

There was the whine of a servo and the holo curtain rose to allow a flood of brilliant white light in on him. After a few nanoseconds of utter disorientation, Mij slumped his shoulders in defeat and dropped his hands from faded controls.

"Nice try Mr. Ronno, but the Empire got itself a cookie today!" The lab tech smirked innocently at his retorting glower as Mij climbed unsteadily from the cushioned seat to stand in the middle of the hololab. Twenty-three other holocurtains were still in the down position, as the other pilots were just completing their home runs. Then, almost in unison, the curtains rose to expose squinting pilots all in drooping withdrawal from the game. The XO looped a leg from his seat and smirked against the assault of light. "Not too bad... oh... Mr. Ronno... bad luck?"

Mij crossed his arms. "I got four of them."

Gredsk nodded, and rubbed his eyes. "I hope we never get a scramble after a holotest. I'll be blind as a Mynock." The Bothan stood, and lumbered over to the A pilot. "I think you did good. I think you'll be drinking free for the next few. Earned a big holographic medal today."

Mij finally smiled, and turned to the reactions of the others as they crept from their recliners.

Part II

Nadeer frowned at the datapad, reading the information over again.

"OK, XO, I'll haveta talk with you afta this one... Blue two, 'figure out watcha did wrong yet?"

Mij slumped in front of the playback holo. He had just watched the entire last quarter of the scenario at half speed on the strategic level. "No clue. They had me, I'm a dead hero."

Nadeer grimaced, and eyed the rest of the squadron, silent for their successful mission. He moved to the main holo, and called up a still schematic of the last minutes. He pointed to the cruiser, and the first bank of fighters. "Two, you were a little overeager to engage. Now you gave the XO and the others a good head start on the ties. They increased speed, and pulled clear right quick, as you tangled with the first tie."

The display clicked forward a frame, to show the updated data to illustrate Nadeer's description. "There are two faults right at this point. XO." He eyed Gredsk warily. "If Blue One had made a decision a little quicker, you coulda put a few concussion missiles out before closing, and the gap between you, the ties and Blues woulda been sweeter, more obvious. Not t'dump it all on the XO, though I should, 'cause he's the XO, but it was a slow command call. Bad. BUT not unsalvageable." He clicked the display forward a few time-parts. "OK, it's at this point I see ya break for the ties chasing the XO, and you might realize y'done it. Nope. You go straight out after the X wings, trying to save some already saved asses."

"They hype. You go 'goodie' and line up to hype. Bam! The cruiser jumps on ya." Nadeer shrugged and examined Mij's features. "At this point, I'm drawn to either watcha did do, or a suicide run through the asteroids, ifya in a Han Solo mood."

Nadeer swept the display off, and turned on the squadron as a whole. "What Ronno shouldah done, was feint at the ties, maybe take ah few blind shots, and then try again to close with the X's." He crossed his big arms, and chewed on the end of the pointer. "At that, he might'ah met the squints goin' for the XO, or at least been closin' with'em when the XO hyped. Then..."

Mij nodded weakly. "...Then I would have just had to break clear and hype after."

Nadeer smirked. The XO could guess but no one else but the hololab techs knew-- and would ever know-- that he had been driving the squint that had upended Blue Two. "Something like that."

Despite the constant haze of drill, holo and sleep in the midst of an awkward, accelerated training program, Mij marked one day as one of the brightest he could recall. A couple minutes out of debriefing from another murderous run in the sim, Gredsk, accompanied by Bog-hta, snatched Mij and five of the other pilots and led them to the hanger with a minimum of explanation.

Led into the hanger, the group halted before a large crate even as the bulk, roughly the size of an commando carrier, was set gently on the deck plates and released from the overhead magnetic crane. As the XO and the chief mechanic unsnapped latches and eyed stamped instructions around the container, another small party approached from the other side of the hanger. Captain Nadeer ambled out in front leading two Artoo units. Mij recognized the two 'droids as Fivefive, the XO's R2, and Oneye, Nadeer's. The big captain pointed some points out to the XO and chief, mumbled something to Oneye while circling the container.

Meanwhile, the six pilots milled in tired curiosity. Mij recognized four of them as the better Headhunter pilots, and the other as a modified shuttle driver. He joined the buzz of speculation and insinuation while the three leaders and two 'droids fussed with the package.

The conversations silenced, and all six beings stood in admiration as the crane returned from other duties and lifted the container top and side unit away, exposing five brand-new A wings. The ships were stacked among packing retainers and seals and still looked only partially assembled for the breakdown of transport, but were an awesome sight to the tired pilots.

Nadeer chose the moment to approach the group. All ears were on him but eyes refused to leave the shiny white glaze of the ships.

"Blue, meetcha new boats." Nadeer smirked, and allowed the comment to sink in before continuing. The silent gapes became even more shocked. "I've gone and assigned them to you jalopy drivers... " He indicated roughly the five pilots who had been training in their older ships and then he settled his gaze on Mij. "Fer trainup, I'm gonna have Ronno help y'all out. He's got a fair'mount o'time on the model, an'I'm sure he's got some tips. 'Specially cause the sims ain't up to par."

Mij found himself nodding at the reference. He spared a glance at Warda, silently cramped in a far corner of the bay. His A was scratched, dented and had an overall more seasoned air than the new A's, but in comparison there seemed to be no changes to design. He smirked and folded his arms, attempting an appearance of authority knowing all the time that he simply looked uncomfortable. Bog-hta waved his crew in and the packing was being striped away as Nadeer gestured to the hatch that led back to the barracks quarters. "If'ya want, Bog-hta's got the assignment list, an'ya can visit yer craft. Otherwise, we'll take this up in th'mornin'. Night."

Nadeer attempted a vague look of attention before moving towards the hatch. Mij doubted the others had even noted his presence. After a last glance at the A's, and Warda, Mij hurried to catch up with the captain's retreat.

He did so about half the length of the corridor towards the barracks. "Captain." He nodded as he moved alongside the bigger man.

Nadeer eyed him, obviously judging the Alderannian's mood. "Ya'know, I was told, by Admiral Akbar himself, n'less, that most of any one species on the A's are Alderaanians. Tell th'truth, I think it's 'cause allya are a little bit o'loners."

Mij stayed silent.

Nadeer paused and then continued. "I know'ya got yer ship by assignment, but I can't shake the feelin' all ya A-jocks wanna be left alone t'fight the Imps." He stopped at his office door and led Mij inside. "Most've the A's we had before in the Alliance didn't have assignees... most o'the hotshots would grab'em fer a mission or whatnot. Doubt'ya know Tycho Celchu?"

Mij indicated that he did not.

"Tycho kinda adopted the A's and set about trainin' up on 'em. Anything we's got in the sims is mainly 'cause o'him. He helped form Yellow-- the A wing bunch. Most've the time they end up workin' with other units, in pairs or singles, cause A's just aren't a formation ship."

He played with a piece of burnt engine hardware-just one of the souvenirs on his desk as he sat behind it. "Blue got these five fer two reasons. Somethin' big's comin', an'it ain't givin' us much time to reequip, so we get our guys in these slingshots to keep'em as uptadate as possible. Other reason, specific' to why we're seein' these, is that the A wing's cheap. I mean half at least, the cost of my X would draw used."

Mij couldn't remember when he had begun frowning. He settled into one of the chairs and crossed his arms, laying his chin on his chest. "I get it. No offense." He saw Nadeer jerk to offer the sentiment and cut it off. "You've got twenty four oddballs in the wrong place at the wrong time but the fleet needs them, for all their worth, even if its stopping blaster bolts."

The captain nodded solemnly and held the engine part up like a pointer. "We have exceptions, you bein' one, Oc Ronno... and fer the most part, " He swung his head in the general direction of the hanger. "those pilots'er the best of the odd lot. Just needed decent ships. Time allowin', yer sim performance, an' how I've seen ya dart that ship around, I'd be signin' the pad t'putcha up fer Yellow Wing. But, can't do.

"Me an' the XO will help ya by diggin' up A specific excersises, y'know. Give you those five fer sim and the like. I'm gonna do my damndest in the next few, to get us together as a unit. That means all twenty four, X's, A's, Y's, '95's... all of'em. Hell, most of'ya, jist findin' the Alliance proves ya worth a damn in the hatch."

Mij sat upright as Nadeer's R2 waddled into the room. "Oneye... Pilot Ronno... consider it 'fective now, I promote Mij Oc Ronno to the appointment o'feild grade Lieutenant, and leader, Blue Wing A Element. Have his personal ship crested with th'squad leader emblem, and assign'em room 32 as his sole office and briefing quarters." As Oneye whistled and beeped his understanding, Nadeer turned his frown, full-force, on Lieutenant Mij Oc Ronno. "Dismissed, get some sleep, dammit."

Mij stood, and for a split second, debated on immediate action. He felt as if he should salute, or at least assume attention. He did neither. Mij nodded curtly and left the room.

The Redemption was in dire straits. Gredsk's scanners showed her shields, all around, in the red, and over the comm freq, the hoots of damage warnings and the rush of activity blurred the controller's instructions to the two remaining shuttles maneuvering for her docking berth. One medivac shuttle already sat safely astride the corvette. Alliance soldiers injured in a recent evacuation from a doomed rebel base were being unloaded when the Imperial frigate Warsprite had blurred from hyperspace and released a wing of tie bombers with a small contingent of tie fighters to undo her mercy mission. Four of Blue's X wings had been acting as escorts for the rendezvous, and three had darted like Mruk-wasps at the six twin-hulled bombers, probing for proton torpedo locks even as the Warsprite shimmered back into hyperspace. Four of the bombers, and the two tie escorts had been vaped before reaching their own missile range, and the X wings swung through the remnants and slid in behind the sluggish attackers just seconds before the two bombers entranced themselves on achieving a torpedo lock on the Redemption.

Both had launched six missiles apiece before jinking and attempting to avoid the X's awkward attack from behind. The relatively slow speed of the bombers stressed the X wing's pilots' ability to draw bead on them, and they had lined up for another salvo before they were dispatched by a flurry of laser fire from the X wings.

Six of the proton torpedoes slammed into the Redemption, bursting the shields and hulling the ship. One torp hit a medivac shuttle, giving that crew a hurtle as they rifled at keeping stable shields and arrange a new approach on the corvette's docking bay around the hell fires of the attack. Another had hulled and disabled the emptied shuttle that was fleeing from her completed docking and download, smashing into the durasteel armor before the crew had reestablished her shields. Blue squadron crews were piloting all of the shuttles. The remaining mod pilot had been assigned as the unit's EV pilot recovery. The pilot of the hulled shuttle was a Z95 driver and was swearing oaths over burning panels at sluggish nature of the shuttle.

It was with utter dismay, that the single X wing pilot left to provide close cover to the medical ship suddenly saw the Warsprite shimmer back into realspace on the opposite side of the action from where the other X's had engaged the bombers, and release another contingent of bombers. Grimly, she threw full power to her four engines and rocketed towards the new attack, switching her proton torps online, and seeking a lock. She swore at herself for using all but two of her precious torps to destroy as many of the incoming missiles from the first set of bombers as possible-- this despite the realization that her actions had probably saved the corvette temporarily.

The other X wing pilots slammed all power into their engines as they realized their predicament, but they had moved too far out to reach range to the new bombers before the Imperials gained their own missile range to the Redemption. The single X wing loosed the two torps on solid lock, and the pilot switched on her lasers. The two missiles shattered a bomber apiece as she had passed the invisible line that was her estimate of the bomber's range to the Redemption. But the bombers were still a fair distance out of laser range and she throttled back to near nil, creeping forward to effect a pillbox-type attack on the approaching Imperials. The nearest of the four remaining bombers set the HUD alive as it came into extreme range, and she began pumping desperate laser shots at it. Even then, the bomber escorts darted by on either side of her and swung in leisurely on her six.

Her comrades still nearly a minute away, she fumbled to strengthen her rear shields and smirked as one of the distant bombers tumbled out of it's formation and into a mindless spin; the victim of a lucky shot. She nosed towards the next bomber and depressed her firing stud.

Nothing happened. In a panic she realized that she had expended what energy was left to her lasers after the mad dash towards the attack. Green darts of Imperial fire plastered against her rear shields and cut through with ease. The Imps had barely to try to hit her and both fighters didn't miss a shot.

The rebel pilot yelped despite herself as the X wing shattered around her.

The bombers herded by loosing their missiles as the fast-approaching X wings fired their own-last-- torpedoes. The damaged bomber even regained formation and began pumping missiles at the injured medical corvette.

Two of the X wing pilots suicide ran into the swarm of missiles, taking two each, but also sacrificing themselves with hits on engine-drained shields. Eight missiles were zipping at the Redemption as the last two X's pilots saw their torps shatter all four bombers and one tie fighter. They ignored the last fighter and looped after the tie bomber's missiles but only one torpedo remained between both of them and they could not catch up to laser range of the Imp missiles in time.

That one torp took out one of the eight Imp missiles. Bare meters from the corvette, the hull-damaged shuttle jerked awkwardly into the path of another of the missiles on her repulsorlifts, and the two objects obliterated each other. The last six nosed themselves happily into the dim shields of the Redemption.

Gredsk bit his lip as he watched the corvette shudder and list from the impacts. The second shuttle had just offloaded and was thrown off the docking ring, tumbling into space. The third and last shuttle irked aside to allow it to hurtle by.

Somehow, the Redemption survived. Gredsk glanced over at his wingman, smiling and the gesture was returned in spirit. "Yes!" He shouted over the comm.

Redemption's shields were down. She was hulled in two or three spots, and the captain was now interned among her wounded cargo, but the hyperdrive still showed green and the last shuttle was seconds away from the docking latches. Gredsk smirked and leisurely banked back to the medical ship's side, his wingman taking up opposite.

The scanner beeped. Gredsk didn't want to look down.

He didn't need to. The Warsprite screamed out of lightspeed and halted not forty kilometers off his starboard S-foil. Blue's XO was fairly certain he was in tears as the frigate opened up with a broadside into the small knot of rebels, covering the launch of six new bombers and two ties.

Grumbling, Gredsk plodded out of the hololab, sharing no further words with his pilots after a short, haggard mumble that they should clean up and await his debriefing in the squad room. Sweating, downcast, Blue hung their heads low and appeared all but ghosts as they made their way back towards the barracks. The XO wiped his palms together and poked his head into one of the waiting/debriefing chambers off the main hall. There, the A wing pilots were next in line for sim training. In a quick flash of his buried aggression, he hoped the A jocks would be stuck in the same scenario, hence the entire squadron could mope together. That was a tough one, he judged, as he looked in.

Mij stood against the far wall, where he had been using a number of improvised visual aides to supplement a lesson/briefing/speech he'd been performing while the crew awaited the use of the simulator. Gredsk guessed the subjects had been wide in ranging, eyeing the discarded items and guessing at the purpose they had performed. The A wing leader was apparently answering an individual's question as the XO had come upon the scene.

"... I think you're right, Bullah," The Alderannian was saying, "that in Sep's case, charging the blasters high and dumping the full charges into the shields would have helped--what with all the Ties jetting around and still ten containers to scan--she needed to keep her engines juiced. This'd keep the Imps off her ass while she completed the scans."

Bullah, a Sullustani, blinked his giant eyes and nodded. "Run first. Keep the Ties on your six. Done scanning, have some fun."

Sep, a female human who Gredsk had been happy to see given an A wing to replace her ancient Headhunter, frowned in a corner. "Ok Bullah... YOU try that. We're talking twelve Ties at once. Six eyeballs, six squints. Yeah, I ran the 'balls for a loop, but the squints are quick enough to dump some on my six every few."

Mij interjected, holding a ration box out at chest level. "Ok, guys, here's a suggestion. When I did this scenario, I stuck close to the containers I scanned..."

Another pilot waved his claws from backroom. "Of course you did..."

The group leader cut him off with a mild display of his free palm and a firm face. "... MUCH closer than I needed to, to get a strong scan. How close? Bullah- what is the expansion of the A's shields at full strength?"

The Sullustani blinked again, his mucus-covered lips puckered. "About seven meters off any surface."

Mij nodded. "I pulled as close as I dared. Between ten and eight meters on corner passes. Sep was hit when she was heading to... what, maybe the fourth to last container?"

Sep nodded. "I was taking hits almost the whole time. The frigate jumped me after I'd checked only two. The fighters were out and powered up before I had scanned the fourth or fifth, and glued to my ass by the seventh. I caught three more while juking them, but one lucky b*****d got a good shot off."

The young leader emphasized the ration box. "You've got to use the containers as cover. You are fighter pilots--not merchandise handlers, not stock keepers. The mission doesn't say 'protect containers at all cost'. It plays simply to scan all containers and take out at least half the Ties. Just like the jockey that the scenario is wrote around did. Let the Ties shoot the hell out of the containers, as long as those shots are missing you. Weave in and out. Don't be obvious about what you're doing or where you're going next."

Mij swung the ration box around as he visualized the motions. Gredsk smirked, despite himself. The human kid was a good leader. The A wing pilots looked on to his display absorbed. Mij tossed the box on a desktop, and snatched an A wing model one of the pilots had fashioned as a side-project. "You got to stop thinking so much about looping, and ducking. Sims are one thing. OK, so a lot of the time it's just you, your wingman, and the Ties. But sometimes- many times- there's large ships. Hell, the ship your protecting, it's got shields that are kilojules stronger than yours. If you keep yourself alive, the Tie's only gonna shake up them a bit with his blasters. Then you turn and nab him. The crew will thank you later when you're dusting the bombers sighting their asses."

The Alderaanian spun the model around a bit, and smiled. "We're the fastest thing going. Let's use that speed to vape some Imps. Eh? We can leave an eyeball behind and the squints got to stretch it to catch us." He placed the model down and paused thoughtfully. After a space he pointed at the model's blaster cannon. "I just thought of something. Why worry about blasters at all?"

Eyes searched his though-blanked stare at the model. Finally, he began anew.

"Yeah... sith... dump your laser charge into the engine, and budget your shields to the bone."

The Sullustani pilot shook his head, uncomprehending, but the human female jumped up. "Evade, evade, evade!"

Mij jumped alive and pointed to her. "Correct! Sith... we've got more speed than what we know what to do with a sublight, and we can out-maneuver those squints on a bad day. Concentrate on the containers, scan'em all, and then break for space."

Sep gained Bullah's attention, and completed the concept. "Those Imp's will prob'ly be slow to chase you far. They won't wanna leave the frigate, 'cause they've been told to protect the supplies. Go out of range, charge up, and go back. Take on the Ties as YOU wanna! Easy."

Part III

Neither Mij, nor any of the other pilots of Blue Squadron needed Captain Nadeer's seasoned intuition to know when the hypothetical 'Something Big' was close at hand. Beginning at the first of the week proceeding, Nadeer and Gredsk would disappear for extensive periods, excusing themselves for what was called 'Training Orientations' or 'Command Meetings' if either the commander or XO were in an especially informative mood. Their absences stretched over whole training periods. In as many days four live flights were undertaken with only minimal briefing and without the presence of either man.

Into the next days tension on and about the cruiser Republic built towards a breaking point leaving many with high belief in the ebbs and flows of the Force's effect on even the least sensitivity-gifted individual. Though never lacking before, Bog-hta and his crews seemed to put more stress on equipment repair and old requisitions and outstanding orders that had been shelved for weeks became the subject of frenzied, sleepless crusades.

In the lounge, smiles over lum were distracted, automatic. Conversation always bent toward-- at best-- distant goals of the rebellion and --at worst-- jests and theories of mortality. It was the stuff of Admirals and Grand Moffs, not the common soldier. War was creeping in on the taskforce infecting the lax cliché of training and routine.

Late in the cycle, the training schedule was put on hold, and pilots were politely discouraged from spending the off time in the lounge or game room. The hololabs were shut down. Without the hustle of crews installing peace-stored equipment in seemingly random and unlikely places, hasty checks and the undusting of forgotten routines, the corridors of the big cruiser seemed devoid of normal life. Pilots sulked in cabins, attempted sleep.

No one, leader or otherwise, seriously addressed or calmed the mounting fears.

Things were getting serious.

Mij had heard the alert klaxon only once before, when a disabled shuttle made a hot-landing in the bay almost a kilometer beyond him. The ship's intercom had blared, and then crackled out a terse series of orders basically telling any being who didn't know what was going on to stay put and slide out of the way of any being who did. It was, therefore, not the alerting wail of the siren, but the single word 'Scramble' that jerked him upright on his cot and set his senses seeking for more information.

The klaxon sounded again, for a shorter duration, and the announcement was repeated.

"ALL WING PILOTS, PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE SCRAMBLE BRIEFINGS WITH YOUR ACTUALS. PILOTS SHOULD ASSUME A FLIGHT READY POSTURE AND PREPARE FOR ACTION."

Mij poked his head through the curtained doorway of his room while pulling on his flight suit. The minute flash of an elbow or such from behind the squadron's other rooms verified that the others were dawning their own gear. Noting neither the XO nor Nadeer, Mij finished dressing, grabbed his helmet and gloves and did what he had been forced to do all week. He took charge.

He stomped out of his room and settled himself at the head of the corridor. "Blue, get yourselves flight-up and form in the hallway!" He shouted, nerves raising the volume and pitched sting of his voice more than he would like, but the pilots obeyed without comment. In minutes the twenty-two stretched the length of the hall, standing alert in front of their respective rooms. Mij waved a dismissive hand and smirked, and the group relaxed slightly, a faint buzz of speculation rose as neighbors shared uncertain conversation. Bullah stepped aside the Lieutenant, his huge black eyes on the Alderaanian's unavoidably worried features. "Enough waiting?"

Mij nodded, looking at the corridor junction with the main passage expectantly. "Yeah, I expect we'll see our illustrious leaders any second now."

The Sullustani pilot shivered, and snapped his mouth in a faint laugh. "Or maybe, YOU are our illustrious."

Lieutenant Mij Oc Ronno's returning gape was automatic. "Only if thing's have really gone to hell."

As if cued by his last syllable, Nadeer marched around the far corner and hurried up the hallway towards the two. Gredsk stopped at the far end, and looked on impatiently.

Captain Nadeer stopped, examined Mij without comment, perhaps expecting a salute and report, but the inexperienced Lieutenant wasn't all military yet. After a pause, he turned and examined the assembled Blue Squadron. He glanced at Mij again, and back to the pilots. "OK Blue. It's time." He breathed, attempting to draw color back into his chubby features. It worked slightly. "Meet us in the big briefing room outside the hololab in two minutes. Go."

With a mumble that included relieved gasps of 'holo exercise' and 'more training', the squadron broke and crunched into the passageway, and hurried towards the hololabs. Nadeer snatched Mij's sleeve as the lieutenant pushed past. "Oc Ronno, it's comin' down. Big time."

Mij smirked, mirthless. "I know. Though I have no clue as to..."

Nadeer stopped him and angled them towards the passage. "You will. Split A-section. Blue is becoming two squadrons, like it should be..." Nadeer talked as they rushed towards the briefing room. "... I'm taking Blue Alpha, and the XO's takin' Blue Beta. I want three A wing's assigned to each, an'I wanna split you and yer wingman between, an'keep you with me. Yer wingman'll work with the XO."

Mij already had worked out the specifics by the time he said, "Understood." By then, the two entered the briefing room. The XO had already started the holoscreen, and no one spoke, or moved. Eyes were riveted on the screen in disbelief.

Depicted there, was the Death Star. The XO had said nothing. Purely it's image was enough to draw shocked silence. Mij fell in with this, as Nadeer continued to the middle of the room, and defiantly swiped his hands through the image. "Blue wings, that... "He waited for the disturbed holo to resettle. "... is the eventual target for today." He paused, and examined the reaction.

Nothing changed, except that now, no one who made a habit of breathing regularly, did.

"This is NOT an exercise, sim, or parade... this is a SECOND prototype Death Star, orbiting in a protective field around a small moon called Endor."

Bullah's gaze darted to Mij, who returned the disbelieving stare in kind. They had both heard the name before, in and around Sullust. Sith, thought Mij, small galaxy.

Nadeer continued, unabated. He signaled the XO, who ducked at the holo controls, and the Death Star shrank, taking with it, a before-unseen view of the moon it orbited, and some marked points. The whole image shrank into a single corner of the display field, as a darker image coalesced.

The image became an obvious real-time view out the launch bay of the Republic, showing a swarm of ships collecting, all types, all tasks, all Rebellion. Mij lost count, and gave up trying.

"The fleet's been bunchin' for two days. The Republic jist joined up with our section last night, and our orders came through." Nadeer fed a datapad to the download port on the holoprojector. A range of graphics, schematics and movement indicators flashed by on the display, finally leaving a fair representation of the order of march in space outside. "Blue's job's fleet defense. We sus'pect there to be a large number, maybe ten to twelve squadrons of Ties on an'around Endor, and perhaps six more on the Death Star. That's conservative, folks."

He caught a few eyes for emphasis, and continued. "Doubtless, though, the attack'll keep'em defensive, 'cause we got a good bunch'o'wings goin' after that Death Star, along with support cruisers, etc."

"Endor's already got some commando team on it, goin'ta blow the shields." He checked his chronometer. "In about two. A large cont'ingent, the first wave attack, will be jumpin' before the fleet, then the fleet. Blue will deploy right afta' the jump, and form on all capitol ships, to keep the Ties off."

Mij was handed a pad silently by Gredsk, who nodded and made his way over to the Y wing actual, who received a pad much the same. Mij took the display in immediately, and did as it asked, reassigning his A wings between the two squadrons made from one. He set himself up as Blue Alpha Two, Captain Nadeer's wingman, and Bullah as Blue Beta Two, the XO's partner. The other moves were simple juggle of one team to each element, keeping the wingmen system intact. He waved the XO over and handed the pad back. Nadeer continued his brief.

"You folk's gotta stay sharp. They might get some break aways to go after the fleet, 'specially afta' the attack on the Death Star's at heights... plus reinforcements might hype in from anywhere. Launch order is this; Blue Beta first, Blue Alpha next, after Green elements clear the deck."

He saw some questing gazes, and it happened to be Sep who spoke up first. "Green who?"

Nadeer smiled. "B wings, folks, B wings. Dontcha'fret, you'll get a peep see before they go, cause you'll be in their exhaust."

This caused a mild spur of conversation. B wings were the newest of the Alliance fighters, designed by the Verpines; only the most accomplished mechanics and ship builders in the known galaxy. Excitement and impatience simply to catch a glimpse of the fighter caused the arrivals some celebrity status when they landed. Blue squadron had somehow missed the occasion.

Nadeer waved down the commotion, and pointed to the wall holos. "Your assignments are posted, Oc Ronno and Bullah are the only pilots with wingman changes, Alpha reports to me, Beta to the XO. Assemble on the flight deck, and warm up, listen on the comm. I want you all in your cockpits when we jump." He caught renewed attention as the group stood to leave, and patiently awaited utter silence. He got it quickly. "May the Force be with you."

Nods and mumbled responses framed the calm departure from the room. Drawn by the activity of hurrying techs and others, the loose group continued to the flight bays at a slight run, no being wanting to be the only one walking to his or her task. Mij jogged beside Nadeer, and Gredsk was met by Bullah behind them, and all four covered the rear.

The Republic's bay was a maelstrom, pure and simple. Mij parted Nadeer's side to approach his own ship, which took several minutes of wary dodging and rushing across the bustling hanger deck. About halfway across, he spotted his first live glimpse of a B wing, and stood dumbly staring at the oddly-unbalanced craft until an annoyed tech shoved him from the path of a taxiing X wing.

Shaken from the spell, Mij gained Warda's side, threw his helmet and gloves into the open cockpit, and began climbing onboard. Unlike most of the Alliance fighters, a pilot had to be careful where he stepped when mounting his A wing, else he might smudge a screen projector or mash a foot into an exposed panel. As Mij strapped in, he recalled one of the introductory speeches he had made to the other A wingers in his squad.

"A wings are made to be missed, not take a bunch of suicide hits like an X or Y." True enough, he complimented himself. He caught Bog-hta's thumbs-up and returned the gesture, and then began powering up. As he did, a burst of light at the bay doors caught his eye, and he watched the stars stretch into hyperspace's surreal display. After lingering on the view a few seconds, he spotted Nadeer's X wing across the hanger. He tapped his com key, knowing that the bay monitors would have already informed Warda of frequency changes and the like. "Blue One this is Two, comm check."

He noted Nadeer's face turn to him from the X's open cockpit, but the captain sent no reply. Mij thought a moment, and tried anew. "Blue ALPHA one, this is Blue Alpha Two. Comm check, dammit."

A staticked laugh, and Nadeer's voice crackled from Mij's helmet, still resting on his lap in the cramped A's cockpit. "Roger Blue Alpha Two. Try jist Alpha Two."

Mij waved his response, and settled back. He noted that Nadeer's engines were not yet started, so he left the A wing's systems on startup, and watched the flurry around the six B wings to entertain himself, noting features and imagining the big fighters' characteristics. He played the game for an uncertain time span, but it seemed relatively a short one, until the hyperspace blur outside broke away into norm space again, and the B's lined up at the bay door.

A colored lumen-strip around the bay door blinked from red to green, and the first B wing shot out of the hanger, the pilot hotshotting just a little. The rest followed in close formation, as Beta lined up it's own hodgepodge of fighters to depart.

Mij flipped both engine controls to START, and mashed the purge circuit. With a whining rumble, the twin fusial engines wound up, and Mij felt his seat compressed by adjusting gravity controls, and other automated lifesavers blinked and chuckled around the cockpit. He nudged the CLOSE toggle on his canopy, snatching his gloves from the rim seal ahead of the lowering screen, and shoving them on.

Mij slipped on his helmet, pushing the chinstrap together and tucking the little mic nearer to his upper lip, and then he reached down and engaged the repulsorlift drive. The stick felt suddenly loose in his hands, and he tested the little ship's stability with centimeters-small micromovements on all axis. He then glared out the canopy to follow Nadeer's lead to line up. He saw the XO rocket out of the bay in his X wing, and then Bullah darted out in his spotless A wing.

Mij was looking expectantly on to the next two ships in line when his senses became confused by a collage of factors. He still trying to grasp the meaning of a sudden shift of gravity on the deck, as unwary pilots had their ships slide haphazardly one way or the other, ground crews lost footing and scrambled aside, and equipment tumbled and slid into bulkheads, against ships and beings.

Nadeer's shocked gasp came over the comm. "What the- Blue, look alive, the Republic's doin' some sort'o'heavy maneuver, grav 'trols ain't keepin' up. Hold yer ships steady!"

Understanding, Mij's gaze darted to the spinning starfield out the bay door. Terrifyingly close, another Calamari Cruiser was sliding past and back, fighters nursing on her. The Republic appeared to be reversing direction. The door frame suddenly glowed green, and after a nanosecond stare to verify the OK from ground crews, the Beta Y wing pilot shot free of the bay, and looped out of sight. With less hesitance, the rest of Beta squadron filed out, the last being one of the few Headhunters remaining in the flight. The old ship drew a sharp contrast to the earlier vision of B wings sliding from the deck.

Nadeer's X wing slid over to the deck center, and Mij manipulated his A alongside. This was normally a thoughtless, easy move, but with the fade and surge of grav control around him, Mij was pressed to watch ground crew and other obstacles closely. Luckily, the bay was almost empty.

"OK kid, this is it." Nadeer smirked and shrugged from his cockpit, and eyed the door. The color ring flashed green, and he throttled forward, and into the vacuum. As Mij's hand moved to the repulsorlift controls, his threat-alarm shrilled in his helmet. What? He eyed the screen, which had automatically illuminated, and displayed a Tie Bomber on it's readout. The distance readout showed danger close.

But how? Mij was still in the bay, just clear to the door. Then, a tumbling white speck caught his eye, weaving in the starfield. He remembered a favorite phrase of Nadeer's, as he armed his concussion missiles, and considered a very rash move. He cranked up the repulsorlift, and slid at the doorway.

"If it works, do it."

The tie bomber, however it came to be so close, was making a run at the Republic, and just happened to be in line with the flight bay. Warda's scanners had immediately sensed the probing of the bomber's missile lock, assumed it to be on the A wing, and alerted the pilot.

Mij enabled his own missiles, and drew an almost immediate lock on the tie bomber. He breathed in, and fired a missile, not yet clear of the bay, unwilling to risk delay. Unaware of the outer danger, ground crew jumped and threw threatening glares at the departing fighter. In a flash of blue flame and spraying smoke from the atmosphere pocket, the concussion missile jumped free of the A's belly launcher and shot out into space.

Mij jammed his throttles forward and was not far behind.

He dove straight and dumb, into chaos. Many, many ties of all types tucked and veered in all directions past his windshield, green fire zipped by on all sides, with a sprinkle of rebels gunning through the fray. His scanners were peppered with red, blue, yellow, and some green dots, senselessly. Instinctively, he dodged the Warda through the assault and along the dorsal of the cruiser, and his hands blurred over the power circuits. All too slow, the power levels crept towards ready on his blaster readout, and his shields blinked on. He shoved the throttles open, and jammed the comm key on his yoke.

"Blue One... I mean Bl-Alpha One-"

Nadeer's voice boomed over his headphones. "Two! Get yer speed up and get MOVING! Gods... the sith is on the wire!" Oneye's panicked squeals could be heard in the background.

An X wing shot past below, and spun around and behind the hull of the Republic before Mij could determine if it was his captain or not. Three squints screamed by on it's six, firing. In a panic, he dove his ship under a hail of fire from another oncoming tie, and barely avoided splattering Warda on the cruiser's leviathan shields. Cutting the A over and reversing direction, things became horribly clear as his view blurred over the battle.

First he watched the partially completed, and distant blob of the new Death Star go by. As he realigned on the bow of the Republic, a small moan escaped his numbed lips.

At about the same distance, hove a SuperStar Destroyer, ringed by at least a dozen, tiny in comparison, Star Destroyers, and a plethora of assorted other capitol ships.

The Alliance attack was squeezed between Endor, below Mij and above the Republic and the rest of the rebel fleet, a C-shaped phalanx of the Imperial Fleet, with a swarm of yet-uninvolved ties out in front, and the Death Star and some obviously un-commando-destroyed shields close behind.

Nadeer swore again, and nudged the comm panel. "Oneye, gimmie command freq." The Artoo responded quickly, and a recently familiar voice roared over his speakers. This was done as he spun under the belly of the Republic, lining a tie interceptor up for the kill. Like a legendary beserker of some distant time, his part of the battle seemed just kill and dodge-- no art, no pride, no strategy-- just survival.

"It's a trap! All groups retreat towards sector one -a..." Admiral Akbar's sentinel voice in panic was too much for the X wing captain to take. "OK Oneye, back ta squadron freq... nothin' goin' on up there." He fired, and the squint shattered off his nose cone, and his X wing dove through the expanding fireball. Hell was here an now. Hopelessly he attempted to recognize his ships through the mass of looping and firing.

Green rays ripped past his vision, reminding him of the killing that had to be done that day, and he tucked the X wing around the Republic again. He realized he needed time to organize his unit as they sped from the hanger. The tie stayed with him, however, and his task was insurmountable. No one from Beta section would respond, and he had only accounted for half the squadron visually. Alpha, and his responsibility had emerged from the hanger as the first wave of ties closed with the rebel fleet. Ronno had jetted free, launching a concussion missile that speared an elusive tie bomber making a run for the tempting bay opening. Then Two had whipped around and over the captain's flight path, and darted for the opposite end of the cruiser with at least three ties on him. Banking over the bay, Nadeer noticed it empty, except for some wreckage near the wall, but he sped by too quickly to be positive.

"Blue Alpha, report in." He attempted, picking up on a bomber that was strafing the Republic. He swatted the gnat attacker off the bulk of the cruiser with a blast of his quad-lasers, and drew up on a small knot of ties looping around the engine nacelles.

"Blue three here..." Came a staticked, breathless voice over the comm. "... they're all over us."

"Six here... I'm down to nothin'..." This report ended with a shriek of feedback.

"Two here." Ronno spared little attention to the report, obviously.

"Four in... I got some hits coming out of the bay... nothing I can't hold." There was a tie-droned pause. "Is that you One? Got two eyeballs on yer ass!"

Oneye screeched a verification a second after. The R2 toggled screen power for the pilot, and highlighted the X wing sensor display with it's own , personal views.

Nadeer whipped his yoke and hammered a pedal to the floor. The X wing swung on it's port S-foil and through a hail of green lightning. There was a violent impact, and the right shield indicator flickered yellow. Nadeer swore, and redistributed the energy as he continued the evasion with a roll and tuck. Had Oneye not toggled further power to his rear screens, Nadeer would have been swimming home. There was a flare behind him, but he was too busy to speculate. "Thanx Oneye..." He mumbled. Where the hell are my people?

Mij cut in behind the two ties, and both seemed mesmerized by the X wing's tail burners. The reticule swept across the gray ball and Mij jerked his trigger. To his dismay, a concussion missile spat from Warda's belly, and arced away. As he switched back to lasers with an oath, the three-sided pursuit made another sharp turn downward. Taxed to follow, Mij swung long to keep one of the two Imps in his sights. He was lining up when his concussion missile appeared from nowhere and smashed into the solar panel of the rightmost eyeball, and consumed the fighter in a bright, spitting cloud that Mij dove through a nanosecond later. By chance, the evasion of Alpha One had led the ties right back into the line of the missile's path.

The other eyeball seemed to pause in it's course as it's buddy vaped, and Mij swung immediately up and onto it. He fired, sending a single red lance through the Imp's back bulkhead. The tie careened off course and shattered on the Republic's shields. Mij snapped his lasers to linkfire, so both would fire at once, and swung up on the X wing. He recognized Nadeer's ship at once. "Captain... what's going on?!"

The comm sparked to life, but only the sudden jabbering of an R2 unit came through. The channel closed off. Nadeer's ship arced away violently, avoiding a flurry of green lasers that whipped by. Mij felt one, solid hit as he banked opposite, and swung towards where he was certain the Republic was. The cruiser was evading towards the Imperial fleet, closing at best speed.

Sith. Mij realized the rebels were going to tangle with the Star Destroyers. He wondered why for about a millisecond. Then a massive, orange-red beam of sparking energy sliced past him and splashed onto the Republic's shields, and through. The cruiser seemed to curl around the impact like a worm on a red-hot poker, before shattering in a blazing sun that bathed Mij in heat despite his shielding and armor, and blew fighters and smaller ships aside like toys. The Endor atmosphere rippled nearby from the shock waves.

The A pilot distinctly saw several fighter-sized flameballs tumbling from the debris cloud, and it struck him. That's how Alderaan looked, I bet.

The Death Star.

"The Death Star... it's..." He instinctively spun in his cockpit to view the looming object behind him.

Nadeer's voice groaned from the comm. "That's nice, huh? We're closing with the Imp fleet to keep from being vaped by it. Choose Two... frying vat or oven fire?!"

Mij smirked despite himself and swung in toward the remaining defense units from the shattered cruiser. It was not uplifting. He spotted three A wings, two Y wings and another three X wings besides the captain's. The minifleet diverted as one into the middle of the remaining rebel force, and swarmed around anything that appeared to need fighter cover, still tailed by half-dozen ties.

Then the fleet crashed into the next wave of tie fighters.

Without aim, Mij skipped his speeding fighter into the tumult, highlighted a banking tie, and swinging up on it's six. He sent his twin bolts into the eyeball, and spun about without verifying his kill. Laser fire splashed by on his starboard side, grazing his stabilizer, and he was forced into a panicked jerk to port to avoid a burning squint's suicide tumble at him. Another squint swung below, and he dove onto it. He fired once, shots missing to the fighter's front, and after the Imp jerked away from the miss and straightened again, Mij lined him up carefully and cut a solar panel away.

The tumbling ship skipped across a diverting Y's shields and shattered, and the Y wing spun out of control, breaking apart. Mij rolled the fighter from that view and came upon an eyeball flying face at him, already firing. Green ricocheted off his shields as he lined up, and fired a burst. The shots smashed through the tie's windscreen, and the panels were ejected off the pod. Mij snatched back on his stick and the somersaulting wreck spun below him. He came upon a frigate and was shocked to begin receiving incoming fire from it's batteries.

He recognized the Imperial crest on it's boom, and realized that he, and the fleet were among the Imp's big ships. He flipped his controls to concussion missiles, and blind fired two at a time whenever his evasive aimed his nose at the gray bulk. He stopped himself before loosing his last missile, and swung out of the frigate's range, even as a rebel cruiser was closing on it. The cruiser pummeled the frigate into wreckage in short order, but Mij was into another world of the battle by then.

Mij lined up on a squint, ignoring laser fire from his rear, even as the interceptor sent a torrent of fire into the Y wing it trailed relentlessly. The Y's shielding gave, and the fire continued across the cockpit pod, splintering the canopy and shredding the ion mount. The Y tucked end-for-end and spun away, as Mij drilled a perfect shot into the interceptor's ion exhaust ports. He zipped through the blast, and swung in on an eyeball painting an X wing. He blasted this Imp before another rebel life was taken.

"Thanx Two." That was Nadeer.

Mij swung around with his captain, and through a storm of green fire. Another wing of ties droned in, fresh from a nearby Destroyer. Mij took out one with a chance frontal shot, and Nadeer actually scored two hits with one round from his four lasers. One mark vaped, the other sparked but flew on.

A shrill beep, and Mij checked his panel. Someone was locking a missile on him. He juked aside and the lock was broken, and he flipped through his scanner log. There.

The Imps had everything out. Ties still blotted out the stars. Mij swung in on a wing of bombers who had been desperately tasked to tangle with the rebel fighters. Bullah- Mij was shocked to hear his voice- reported to be in contact with at least six assault gunboats. Nadeer told the world he had just blasted an armed shuttle, and was trying to work back up to tie-fighting speed.

Mij sped at the bombers from an oblique angle, and set his lasers to single fire. Numbly marching into the battle in a line formation, attacking the bombers was more like strafing a ground target to the A winger. Two of the dupes died, the other spun away, Mij swiveled the blasters to keep scoring hits as the targets sped beneath him.

Nadeer slipped aside and Oneye modified his maneuvers with a violent series of spins to break a missile lock, and cut under the burning bulk of a light cruiser. Coming back around, the R2 displayed him a picture of an assault gunboat, still probing to paint the lone X wing among the wreckage. Setting his shields to the front, he cut and ran straight at the gunboat's location, though he couldn't visually identify it yet.

His lock warning beeped as his own missiles drew bead, and he fired. The gunboat's own lock suddenly failed, and afraid he too had been fired upon, Nadeer jerked his nose upward. He arched back down in time to see his missile hit squarely on the front shields of the gunboat. The dark gray fighter-bombers, roughly shaped like a squat shuttles, split their formation at the impact, and Nadeer swung upon the closest.

Two A wings zipped in, one sent a succession of three missiles into a gunboat's stern, the other matched speeds and hammered at another with lasers. The first boat jumped forward as it's fusial engines exploded and it ceased to be a danger. Eventually the other A wing cut through it's gunboat's shields and cut the gray armor to ribbons. Nadeer swung in beside the two A's and all three rebels lit the last two boats with fire, and a Nadeer loosed another missile without lock.

Neither Imp got very far.

Mij tucked under Nadeer's port S-foil and swung after a tie he spotted harassing a speeding B wing. The Tie never saw Warda before shattering on the tips of her cannon shots. Mij swung back towards Nadeer to see the X wing and Bullah's A make a strafing run on a nearby Destroyer in the midst of an attack by a Cal Cruiser and a contingent of B wings. The B's swept in, avoiding, but also absorbing a significant amount of fire, and sent their own pummeling onto the Destroyer's shield stacks.

Nadeer and Bullah sped across the flat topside of the destroyer, sending quick shots in and taking some fire off the B's.

As Mij sped to join them, the B's finally took out the huge shield tower. Two rode the blast back towards the Cal Cruiser, but the last in line disappeared into the maelstrom. As the fireball expanded, the B wing broke free of inferno in a tumble. It's cockpit pod blew free, but the swinging boom sliced the escape pod in half, and the entire mess melted into a huge ball at contact with a chance shot from one of the destroyer's batteries.

In the background, Mij saw several cruisers trading blows with the Superstar Destroyer, and another Destroyer on the fringe exploded. Two destroyers were dead in space, and the smaller Alliance troopships were swarming over them. An Alliance frigate suddenly broke with the Imp cruiser it was broadsiding, and amidst a shower of escape pods, swung mindlessly as it sunk into Endor's gravity well.

A Cal cruiser rammed a destroyer, and both became one large fireball.

Then Mij was brought back to his personal war by a flash of green. He had wandered into the destroyer's range, and there were ties grasping for his tail.

Nadeer and Bullah were pulling under the destroyer's bridge pod, lit by hundreds of the destroyer's lasers. The ID screen blinked, and the Imp Destroyer had a name. Dark Cloak.

Fire splashed across the destroyer, as her shields dropped and the Calamari warship smashed broadside after broadside upon her naked armor.

Nadeer zipped back along the surface, and arched up towards the bridge. Suddenly he was close enough to spot the actual control area, with it's huge transparasteel windows and moving figures of Imperial personnel inside. The ties were onto him, but he kept his course, and armed his concussion missiles.

He fired two, forgetting that they were linked by the same toggle as his blasters, and slammed the X wing down and under the bridge pod.

Mij watched Nadeer's missiles smash into the destroyer, and fires blossom throughout the bridge structure. The destroyer began to drift, and battery fire became sporadic and half-hearted. The Cal moved in. "Impressive, One!" Mij shouted over the comm, but had to cut short his little victory announcement. Four ties came from nowhere, and were suddenly on his A wing like a growth.

Nadeer yelped about this into his comm and dove after, barely noticing that Bullah had engaged a pair of squints in the other direction.

Mij tumbled his ship through some imaginative maneuvers, but the Imps stayed on him. Visions of the sim, and the ambush at the ore station, numbed at the Alderaanian's mind as he jerked to and fro, beginning to realize how tired he was.

Nadeer came in with the rearmost tie singing his front shields with ion exhaust, and had to fire from a roll to line up his lasers. His port blasters gouged the tie, and it shattered, and he swung up after the next. It broke in a run in the general direction of the SuperStar, so he concentrated on the one of the last two nearest to the fleeing A wing. Mij misjudged a slide, and the tie bathed the A with two glancing shots before vaping under four direct hits by Nadeer's fire.

The A tumbled away, and Nadeer's heart sank. He quickly slunk behind the last tie and shot away it's starboard panel. The Imp scattered debris as it burned and freewheeled towards Endor. Nadeer spared a glance at Mij's A wing, and was relieved to see it recover and bank back his way, before he lined up to assist Bullah.

This time he was too slow. One squint feinted behind the Sullustani's A wing as the rebel lined up on the other. Bullah shattered the squint in front, as the one behind him triggered a burst that overwhelmed the A's top shields and cratered the cockpit. The A wing spun out of control, throwing sparks and fire from it's shattered canopy as Nadeer blasted the Imperial. By then Nadeer was soaring over the SuperStar Destroyer, and after a second, Mij's A swung alongside.

Just as Mij thumbed the comm to mourn Bullah's death, a flash on the vast surface of the SuperStar drew his eyes to a flight of fighters speeding among the frenzy of fire from the huge destroyer. One of the rebels, a B wing, exploded with a direct hit by turbolaser fire.

Mij roared into the comm in anger and drew bead on one of the shield stacks. A trio of rebels, and one of the nearby cruisers, was pouring fire into the same target. Nadeer switched to his protons, and aimed the X wing's nose at the opposite shield stack. As his torpedoes spat at the structure, Mij noted this and redirected his ship on the same. He banked in, pouring shots into the armor, as Nadeer's last protons whizzed by, off his port wing. He swung away from the tower, bare meters from the surface as the protons continued to pile up in a mounting ball of fire, right on target. Nadeer veered after his last missile cleared the tube, and the tower exploded. Then both he and Mij barely cleared the second tower before it shattered under the cruiser's assault.

Below, near the top surface of the destroyer, an X wing splintered, and the debris, and part of the cannonade that killed that rebel scattered a neighboring A wing's shielding, shorted his stabilizers, and disabled the inertial dampners of the tiny fighter. The A spun out of control, the violence of the maneuver tearing the pilot apart. Even so, the screaming rebel kept enough wits about him to perform a last service to the Alliance. Luck or skill, probably both, and the A careened wildly into the SuperStar's unshielded bridge.

Immediately, due to massive internal damage or simply due to a dead operator slumped over his controls- just so- and the giant ship spun downward and into the Death Star's gravity influence.

Mij's rear scanner suddenly was blanked by a massive red blotch. Tipping his head over his shoulder, his eyes went wide as the entire tail of the planet-sized SuperStar Destroyer lifted across his vision. The huge ship dove mindlessly at the Death Star. It's wild maneuver snagged a number of rebel craft that were scattered over and around the superstructure, and the entire mess of melting steel, burning air and exploding energy pancaked onto the gray surface of the battlestation. The fires spread across the worldlike expanse, jetting from the unfinished structure on one end, spitting debris into the Endor atmosphere and space.

"How long has that shield been down?" Mij wondered into the comm. Even as he did, a lone A wing shot forth from within the superstructure, trailing six ties. Mij dove into the melee, sensing Nadeer's X wing beside him. The A wing juked just right and brought the entire bunch into Blue's influence. Mij and Nadeer downed three with their first few shots. The A turned on one survivor, while Mij followed up on another, and Nadeer tucked in behind the third. The three Imperials died within seconds of one another.

Another cataclysmic burst of fire, and the Death Star blew apart a frigate on the fringe of the intermeshed fleet. Mij looked around, a number of Alliance fighters were grouping around him and the captain. Numbly, the small fleet of survivors soared towards the larger ships, sensors straining for further ties. Then reality blanked.

The Death Star exploded, feeding a spherical hell of destruction that expanded to twice the station's size, and scraped on the edges of the Endorian atmosphere. A Correlian Freighter and a single X wing screamed past the others, dumping speed from an obvious run out of the maelstrom.

There was suddenly no more. A few dim contacts showed maybe a dozen ties rocketing outsystem, hopeless with their minimal fuel loads and lack of hyperdrive. Two Imperial warwagons were silent, corralled by a number of Alliance ships each. The rest of space was littered with debris, and bodies.

Not all dead bodies. Already shuttles lumbered among the wreckage, searching out survivors from both sides, and marking salvage opportunities. Nadeer swung his fighter besides Mij's A wing, and the two shared a long, haggard stare between cockpits. "THAT, kid, is a fight." Oneye whistled it's concurrence in the background.

Mij smiled weakly across space. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice. I was too busy trying to stay alive."

Nadeer nodded, and gestured up front. "How's yer fuel?"

Mij checked. "Low, but not critical."

The captain emphasized his motion forward, where a shuttle could be seen weaving through a debris field a few kilometers distant. "OK, let's go help spot EV's. Keep yer speed VERY low, even if y'don't see a thing. I'll find the SAR frequency and ask whatsup. And turn off yer shields. Don't need to fry some lucky casualty of the day. Gods, there's gonna be plenty."

Mij indicated his understanding silently, and did as he was told. When the comm went silent, he remembered that he was part of a unit. Obviously his commander had forgotten. Swearing in the general direction of his captain's X wing, Mij enabled his comm. "Blue elements, this is Blue Alpha Two, Report please."

Nothing.

Mij set his comm on scan mode. "Any Blue elements, any Blue elements, this is Blue Alpha Two, please report on home freq."

A burst of static, then nothing. Mij reached to repeat himself when the speakers crackled alive. "Ah, Blue Alpha... this is Green Four, I saw two Blue go EV near before the Republic got vaped. I can't tell you no more."

Mij stared at the panel. Finally, "Thanx Green... four. Do we have landing assignments?"

Pause. "Blue, I don't know. I just drive these things. 'Heard some one say the Independence is taking in critical fuel, damage and EV's. Everyone else is just picking up. I've got me, and my flight leader here, but his comm's been shot out. Tell ya the truth, ain't seen a Blue 'cept you and the X wing beside ya."

Mij frowned, and scanned his canopy for the faceless pilot's ship. Two B wings crept along a few klicks off his port, assisting in the EV search. "Thanx Green."

"Yeah."

Mij looked across to Nadeer's canopy, to be met by a shockingly mournful face. "Kid, I already went through th'motions. There's only two of us still flyin'. I'm checkin' my vis-logs now to see if I canna get any hints as to where we might have some floaters... suggest y'do the same."

Mij nodded thoughtlessly. As he reached for the playback mod, he gasped. He drew his hand from a melted mass of wiring and panel, and sucked on his burnt fingertips. "Ah... One, my playbacks been blown away."

Nadeers voice was tired, distracted over the wiry comm patch. "Understood Two, is that the extent, or do ya wanna get out that thing?"

After a glance around the cockpit and over what he could see of the fuselage, Mij shook his head. "I don't see much else... some scrapes and bruises, but Warda's OK."

"Lucky Two... I ain't got much left myself, but I can fly. I'm breadboarding my life support now, but I don't trust my Comm. Get on the horn and ask for EV freq, see if they have any specific needs."

Mij played with the panel. "Ok One. He noted that the comm was still on scan, and spun a knob that widened it's zone of influence. With every meter the invisible orb of the scan radius expanded, it seemed hundreds of voices cackled over the speakers. The collage of noise was almost unbearable, let alone readable. Mij just blasted his voice into the mess. "Any EV unit, this is Blues Two and One..." He paused, wording the message mentally. "... please advise on how we can assist."

After a moment one of the jabbering voices paused, and burst back at him. "OK Blue... Frigate Mercy is on your five. Slide in slow and assume a logical search pattern. Mercy and SAR requesting you jocks play Tugboat for escape pods, and do what you can for EV's. Watch your scanners, there's got to be a dozen astromechs floating around by what I see, but bio has priority."

"Willdo EV." Mij turned to look over his shoulder. He couldn't separate the frigate from the gaggle of vehicles in the direction. "One, did you hear that?"

Nadeer's ship was already spinning on it's axis. "Yep Two. Let's go be nice."

The creep to the Mercy's area was slow. Mij passed through a lot of wreckage- fighters, and less recognizable flotsam- and he tried to be as methodical as possible as he scanned his eyes over the mess. He saw movement, spotting an orange-suited humanoid spinning among some spare parts. He matched the speed of his quarry, and used his repulsorlifts to simulate the spin. He nudged the body onto Warda's nose, examining the faceshield of the slumped pilot. The shield was blackened by soot, but a weak thumbs-up from the floater relieved Mij. "I got one." The A pilot was slowly reducing his spin to zero.

Nadeer was swinging close as the comm crackled. "Unknown element, are you reporting an EV?"

Nadeer smirked across space, and Mij realized the call had not come from his captain. He picked up on his mic. "Err... yes... this is Blue Alpha Two, I have an EV pilot on my front slope, he's alive, but in a world of hurt I think."

In the distance, Mij caught sight of a shuttle lumbering around towards him. "Blue Alpha Two, roger, we have your position. Move off and continue, good spot."

Mij eyed the body through his windscreen. Nadeer's X was sliding away towards another bunch of debris. It was disorientating to see life outside his canopy while in space. Mij was dumbfounded as what to do next.

Nadeer's bass voice came over the comm. It was highlighted by a mild chuckle. "Ah, EV, be advised, Two's not going anywhere... the EV pilot has a deathgrip on his twelve."

The response was glittered by some soft laughter. The female voice from the shuttle failed in an attempt to continue the droning, authoritative chant one expected from SAR. "Blue... ah... OK... if it's the A wing with the EV... X wing get clear... we'll be right there."

Mij smiled at the pilot's faceshield, and hoped the being could see it. A faint movement in an orange-suited arm seemed to convey the positive. Nadeer's ship looped off, crawling, but it still seemed fast amidst the treacherous wreckage. A last tumult of laughter bled from the comm as the captain moved his ship onward, and then Mij saw the shadow of the shuttle pass over him and his EV.

In the distance, a Correlian Freighter tucked in through the debris, and continued in a casual course underneath. The comm flickered as a transmission fed into it's receiver. "All fighters, this is General Calrissian. When and if you are able to support ATMO flight, proceed to recovery rendezvous at planetary coordinates I'm feeding you. Able pilots are to be reassigned for a defense action. Report as you enter your landing cycle. Good fight guys."

Mij smirked and examined the coordinates displayed, as inches away, the shuttle was carefully plucking the wounded pilot from the A wing with a tractor beam. The operation completed, the hatch swallowed up the drooping pilot and the shuttle banked away. "Clear two, thanx."

Mij keyed the comm and powered back up. "OK EV... I'm off." He glanced around, but saw no sign of Nadeer's X wing. Shrugging, Mij aligned on the downloaded coordinates and sped his A wing towards the Endor Moon.

The fireworks of victory were already shouting across the atmosphere below him, dancing with the debris of the battle as it spun into the gravity well.

© (copyright) James Arthur O'Connor. All Rights Reserved.

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