<![CDATA[Story By Simon H. Lee shl10@cornell.edu
From: "Simon H. Lee" <shl10@cornell.edu>
Copyright disclaimer: All Star Wars entities
and items described in the story belong to George Lucas
and Lucasfilm Limited.
This is a non-profit venture.
My characters are mine, though, and if it looks a bit like
Space: Above and Beyond, well, I love that show.
CHANCE ENCOUNTERS
ORD DEMIOS
NINE MONTHS AFTER THE BATTLE OF ENDOR
"Okay, Sabers, listen up!"
The pilot briefing room was small and low-ceilinged, prefab like
most of the rest of the Alliance base, but the people inside were too
preoccupied with what was about to happen to really care.
"The cruiser _Freedom's_ battlegroup broke three SD's at Elidore
II not six hours ago," began the Silver Sabers' CO, Commander Madiol.
The light gray Duro hitched a leg up on the side of the holoviewer up
front and switched it on.
"As you can see, the projected escape path of one of the Star
Destroyers comes right down toward us. It is Fleet Command's guess
that they will enter the system and attempt to effect repairs. Since
they don't know that we've set up shop here, our job will be to put
the welcome mat out for them.
"Now, I know, you're all thinking 'twelve A-wings against a Star
Destroyer?', but the _Freedom_ is on its way here and a couple of
Assault Frigates are also en route, with their fighter squadrons, of
course. That will even the odds somewhat. Our task will be, as
always, to go after whatever fighters the SD throws at us and assist
our people in doing whatever they need to--if things go right for us
there are two hundred SpecForce Marines just itching to make a board-
ing attempt."
Madiol looked at his pilots again. Most of them were, by any
standards, very young. The squadron had both cut and lost its teeth
at Endor, suffering 75% casualties, two-thirds of that figure coming
from KIAs. Only five of the squadron's current twelve pilots had
seen any major action at all. Of the rest, none had more than an
hour of combat flying time, and most were fresh from training to fly
the tricky A-wings in the first place. He mentally sighed.
"ETA on them is one hour. Get out there!"
"Isn't this great? We're going to fly real combat!"
Cloyce Hajan and Giana Rhiescu turned from installing a replace-
ment computer module in Hajan's fighter and watched Dni Elarik, Sab-
ber Eight, share his sentiments with a couple of the other greenies.
"I remember being like that," Hajan said with a half-smile. He
had the most flight time in the squadron other than Madiol.
"Having any trouble remembering the early years, 'Ice'?" Rhi-
escu joked.
"Ice" Hajan was all of twenty-seven standard years.
"You aren't even legal for a variety of controlled substances,"
Hajan parried.
"Give me a little time. I've seen more of that--and The Show--
than that kid," Rhiescu replied.
She was only eighteen. Though almost nineteen, she typically
added.
"Well, I did have to change you and bring you a bottle back at
Endor--" Hajan ducked as Rhiescu swung a hydrospanner at him. "All
right, all right, enough already." He winked at Rhiescu, who grin-
ned back and let her blue eyes sparkle.
"I hope Dni knows what he's getting into. We've got Anjin fly-
ing with him?" Anjin was also new, but she had actually survived her
first half-hour of combat flying.
"Right. That makes Seven and Eight, I'll be flying with ol' Mad
Madiol, and you get the back four."
Rhiescu jerked a thumb back at Elarik. "How old is that kid?"
"Sixteen."
"Wow."
Elarik came over to his seniors. "Hey, guys."
"Looking forward to this, aren't you?" Hajan asked.
"Yep. Nobody's going to say that I can't fly with the big boys
after this."
Both Hajan and Rhiescu grinned. "Be careful, kid."
"I will, sirs. And you take care of yourselves."
"Thanks, Dni. I'll just keep an eye on the low number pilot
here." Hajan pointed at Rhiescu.
Rhiescu tapped at the stenciled number 9 on the A-wing's verti-
cal stabilizer. "I can still fly better than you, Ice."
"Save that for the Imperials, kid."
STAR DESTROYER _FIRE FALCON_
Captain Cam Brenard pulled on his black flight helmet and sealed
it. The interior was cold and clammy, but the dark padding began to
warm up slowly as Brenard breathed into it. The hollow sound of air
slipping through the open spaces in the helmet was eerie, but Brenard
was used to it by now.
Cam was a career pilot, one of a long line of Brenards to go
through the Academy and fly for whatever government happened to run
it, as long as they let them fly hot ships and paid them for it. As
for the Empire, Brenard saw it as something inevitable, replacing the
Republic, which by all accounts from his family had become bloated
and stagnant in the years before he was born.
He eased his thirty-three year old frame down into the waiting,
womblike darkness of his TIE Interceptor, settling himself into the
sharply reclined seat and pulling the restraining straps over him-
self. That done, he flipped a switch to pull the clamshell hatch
closed and began his preflight sequence.
The past few months had seen Brenard's life go through some significant
changes. Of course, the big one was the defeat at Endor.
Brenard had never subscribed fully to the Empire's great propaganda
mill, but he never had a very high estimation of the Rebels' fighting
skill either. Endor had done much to change that. It had also given
him the rather sour taste of running away, as he, and the entire Star
Destroyer he was riding in, was doing.
He was only now starting to believe it, and only grudgingly.
The propaganda mill was seriously dampened, shipboard scuttlebutt
taking its place despite severe reprimands, and it said that system
after system was being lost. The Fleet was falling back, trying to
establish a line of systems to defend themselves from, but the
Rebellion had momentum, the command structure was in disarray after
the dual losses of the _Executor_ and the Emperor, and they were
tired.
However, Brenard found himself, strangely, with more to fight
for. His place was in a fighter, defending his ship against the
Rebels who seemed so intent on destroying it. His duty was to his
squadronmates. He wasn't going to let them down.
The comm announced hyperspace breakout was imminent. Cam sig-
naled his readiness to the flight controllers, and felt the light
thumps as the docking clamps released. As soon as the ship dropped
to sublight his squadron would deploy for a reconnaisance in force of
the system that they were arriving in, in case the Rebels were some-
how waiting for them.
The giant ship shuddered minutely as it left the strange realm
of hyperspace and re-entered the domain of sluggard Light. The han-
gar bay tractors caught Cam's fighter and flung it out and down from
the ship.
"Talons, form up on me," he said into the comlink. "Keep your
eyes open."
"Okay, Sabers, were are on stage. Stick with your wingman and
stay cool." Madiol flipped down his visor and would have hard-set
his jaw in a dignified manner, if he had more of a jaw.
Rhiescu checked her instruments and eyeballed Ten's position off
her starboard side. "Pull it in a bit, Ten."
Ten complied, briefly passing through Rhiescu's rear sensor arc
and showing up in her targeting scope. The Sabers, like some other
A-wing squadrons, had modified their craft so the laser cannons swung
through a three hundred sixty degree arc, enabling them to cover
their own tails. The system was a bit tricky to use, but so far it
had saved a number of lives. Giana patted the targeting console and
kept scanning.
"Whoa! Target SD, three o'clock high, as expected. Attack for-
mation," Madiol ordered. "Showtime!"
The squadron swung about and headed straight at the giant wedge
of the Star Destroyer. A smaller ship popped in behind it.
"Neb-B Frigate coming in behind the SD," Hajan reported. *Now
this is getting hairy.*
Magnified and enhanced on the sensor screen, the SD was showing
the signs of recently having been in the fight of its life. Sections
of superstructure lay breached and blackened, and most of the lights
were out. It was almost comical, if one could ignore the fact that
the ISD-II bristled with turbolasers, ion cannons, and tractor beam
mounts. Not to mention a substantial number of TIEs.
Cam's comm came to life with an alert. "Attention! Rebel star-
fighter squadron detected inbound from planet. Talon flight, deploy
to engage. All fighters, prepare for launch."
Rebels! Here!
Cam bit his lip and rolled the TIE over onto a new heading. He
saw A-wings on the scope, taking the data feed from the _Falcon_.
The warning tone sounded again. "Attention all craft! Rebel
Assault Frigates and X-wings entering area from behind planetary
shadow."
It was getting harder by the minute, and the shooting hadn't
even started yet.
The range counter slowly spiraled down in Madiol's cockpit. The
assault Frigates had arrived as quickly as they could, but the fact
that they were *behind* them and not in front of them softening up
the Imperials was not encouraging. The extra fighters would help,
though. Madiol's fighter pilot ego was not severely damaged by the
fact that the X-wings would undoubtedly take a few kills from the
Sabers--it was definitely better than getting shot to bits.
Almost missed in the positional jockeying was the computer's
tagging of the SD as the _Fire Falcon_. Elarik noted the ship's
name and growled in anger.
The _Fire Falcon_ had been the ship that had delivered occupa-
tion forces to his homeworld ten years earlier. It had also razed an
entire city as a "demonstration." Half of his family had died there.
He had a grudge.
Anjin spotted some odd movement in her peripheral vision off to
her left and glanced over. Elarik's fighter was almost twitching in
anticipation. Actually, it was.
"Eight, you okay in there?"
"The SD, it's the _Fire Falcon_. They killed my--"
Madiol broke in on the channel. "Not now, Eight! Stay with
us, don't go rogue."
There was a "yes, sir," after a few seconds.
"Good," Madiol finished. "Firing range in 45 seconds. Everyone
on your toes, and May The Force Be With You."
The lead group of A-wings closed in moments. Cam's brow fur-
rowed as he issued final orders to his squadron.
"Swarm attack, watch each other's backs, and remember that they
are just as maneuverable as you are, just stupider! Remember Endor!"
And battle was joined.
T/Is flashed by on both sides of Rhiescu's cockpit, green beams
slicing through the darkness. Her initial salvo caught an Intercep-
tor square in the middle of the cockpit and blew it in half. She
rolled the guns around behind her and punched a few holes in another
before she snap-rolled the fighter over and came at the TIEs from the
rear. Ten made a sweeping turn and re-formed off her wing.
Rhiescu's eyes darted around sky and sensors, spotting the TIE
that she had nicked a moment earlier and firing a salvo at it which
missed. Two other shots slammed into it, though, converting the ship
into a ball of expanding gas and shrapnel.
*Ten, you're supposed to just watch our sixes, not shoot,* she
thought angrily.
"Nine, check six! Break right!" Ten called. She did as told,
cutting hard to the right. The Interceptor that had tailed her
failed to follow in time and was caught by Ten's lasers.
"Good shooting, Ten," Rhiescu told her wingman.
The X-wings and a fresh group of TIE Fighters arrived.
Madiol and Hajan charged into the thick of four Interceptors
with guns blazing. Two were destroyed outright, and two more broke
off severely damaged after their first pass alone.
"Lead, you have a tail," Hajan warned.
"Got it," Madiol replied. He cut thrust and yanked back on the
stick, flipping the fighter around on its back. His burst sheared
the port wing off the TIE, sending it spinning off uncontrollably.
Madiol pitched the fighter off on a new vector and lit up the en-
gines again. "Plenty more, Deuce."
Cam locked onto one of the new X-wings and nibbled away at its
shields with his lasers. The Rebel was good, just staying ahead of
his guns and always looking for an opening to retaliate. Cam fin-
ally managed to get a good shot in, but the X-wing rolled through
most of it and kept on going. Worse yet, Cam's advantageous posit-
tion started slipping away.
"Aaargh!" Cam abruptly worked engines and thrusters to wrench
the Interceptor onto a new heading, counting on its maneuverability
to bring him around before the X-wing could lock on. It was close--
Impaling the X-wing on his sights, Cam blazed away. He blinked
reflexively at the glare of its explosion and then watched parts fly
off in a number of directions.
*I'm still better than you.*
The _Fire Falcon_ and the Assault Frigates began exchanging fire
at long range.
"Yow!" Elarik flinched as a turbolaser bolt from the lead
Assault Frigate streaked by, too close for comfort.
"Gettin' busy out here," Anjin muttered.
Elarik watched the red bolt splash hazily against the Star
Destroyer's shields. *Take _that_, you bastards.* He looked back
to see--
"Seven, watch your six!" It was Rhiescu.
"Dni, get him!" Anjin called. She pulled the A-wing into a
barrel roll as green beams clawed out at her from the TIE Intercep-
tor.
"I'm on him," Elarik answered. *Dammit, you let your guard
down!* He hit the firing stud, sending destruction chasing after the
TIE, finally nicking it with a shot that holed the cockpit pod.
There was a puff of escaping atmosphere before the entire ship came
apart.
"Clear," he reported.
"Stay with me, Eight," Anjin warned.
Cam quickly checked the data feed from the _Falcon_. It showed
it, its Escort Frigate, and the Rebel Assault Frigates beginning the
complicated dance of capital ship combat.
A random X-wing slipped across his line of sight, and he shot it
down without a thought. The explosion was suddenly framed by some-
thing else moving in rapidly, apparently from out of hyperspace.
A Calamari cruiser. It looked like the same one that had been
dueling with them back at Elidore. It was also between them and the
Star Destroyer, and fighters were being launched from it.
"Talons, if you want to earn your pay, we've got new fighters
between us and home. Fight hard if you want to get back alive."
Madiol sighed with relief as the _Freedom_ came in at their
backs. *Took them long enough.* Aside from what looked like one
whole Interceptor squadron which was plowing through part of one X-
wing group, there was nothing else near them. "Sabers, regroup on
me, we're going to mop up those T/Is."
The entire TIE Interceptor squadron, or what was left of it,
abruptly spun about and headed right back at them.
"Uh--" someone mumbled.
"Take 'em!" Hajan shouted.
As before, closing and initial contact was over in a flash, but
no one scored any hits this time. The two groups of fighters each
came about and tried again.
"Elements break!" Madiol called.
Where there was once a cohesive squadron-sized target, the A-
wings abruptly broke up. The TIEs did likewise, reducing the battle
to one- and two-ship contests again.
Anjin noticed an Interceptor coming up behind and below her.
"Take it," she told Elarik, while spinning her cannons down to cover
herself.
"Copy, Seven." He rolled the fighter over and tracked the ship
through the top of his canopy, rotating the cannons as he did so.
His shots and Anjin's caught the ship and detonated it at about the
same time.
"Eight, you've got a tail, jink!"
Elarik jerked the A-wing around randomly in bone-crushing spurts
while trying to find the offending TIE. The green beams zipping past
his canopy gave him some reference, but he just couldn't shake it.
"Hang on," Anjin called. Her fighter did a flat spin and star-
ted back in the direction of the TIE. "Just a second..." Anjin
squeezed the trigger and the TIE disappeared in a flash of light.
"Cl--"
From below Anjin's craft, a burning TIE cockpit pod rocketed up.
It struck her fighter just aft of midline, ripping it in half. There
was not even a scream from her. A moment later, all that was left
was a growing cloud of debris.
"Noooo..." Elarik moaned.
"Anjin's gone," Rhiescu reported quietly.
"Eight, form up on Nine," Madiol ordered.
"Yes--yes, sir."
*Damn.*
Cam watched as Talon Eleven's wreck sheared through an A-wing.
Definitely not the way he preferred to take down the Rebel ships. He
tracked the surviving wingman and decided that he was going to die.
Ten looked up and saw two Interceptors racing down at them. "We
have two incoming, five high."
"Break and re-form," Rhiescu ordered. The A-wings shot off in
three directions.
A curtain of fire descended around Elarik. "Whoa, I think they have me
marked," he said semi-calmly.
"We're coming for ya," Rhiescu replied. Her A-wing slashed
across the distance. The closest Interceptor reflected coldly in her
visor. "Bend over and take it!" She hit the triggers.
Cam's wingman's final words were drowned out by static as his
ship exploded. Cam shot a glance behind him and cut hard over.
Rhiescu saw the lead TIE start a break and instinctually knew
that she would not be able to match it at her speed. She fired off a
quick desultory burst and twisted off the other way.
The Interceptor flipped over and started shooting at her, still
moving along its original vector. She hauled back until spots danced
before her eyes, then rolled out.
The TIE was nowhere to be found.
There was a more pressing problem, though. "Eight's got a tail
moving up fast. Cover him, Ten."
"Got it."
Cam pulled his ship out of its turn, now further from the battle
than ever before. His guns weren't working, and the squadron was
becoming depleted of men rather quickly. He knew that he could pro-
bably stay in the battle to command his squadron even with his guns
out, but it was rather risky.
He turned back to the battle.
"Yeah, sure."
Madiol clicked the radio to another channel. *Whatever.*
"Sabers, disengage attacks and move to cover B-wing Blue now
commencing attack on the SD. X-wings will cover."
"What?" someone said.
"Do it." It was dangerous to turn one's tailpipes to an enemy,
and Madiol would have changed his mind if not for the timely arrival
of the X-wings. Singly and in pairs, the Sabers broke off from the
TIEs.
Cam knew he was in trouble. A glancing blow from one of the X-
wings had started a fuel leak, and the TIE's already meager fuel sup-
ply wasn't going to last much longer. Handing off control to Four,
he reluctantly began to return to the _Falcon_.
One thing they all noticed was that the SD's lower arc turrets
were mostly inactive, mostly bombed out of existence. The B-wings
started to shower the lower hull with torpedoes.
"TIE Recon, your eight," Hajan called out. With most of the
Star Destroyer's front-line fighters destroyed, it was down to the
recon and bomber TIEs now. And with the Nebulon-B Frigate drifting
out of control away from the battle, it was pathetically easy.
"Four ships destroyed," he reported a minute later.
"Five's coming up," Elaric declared almost giddily. He was cha-
sing another recon TIE across the expansive lower surface of the Star
Destroyer. The TIE was a rather elusive target, but he was steadily
forcing it lower and lower with his shots--
The TIE tried breaking to port and one solar panel brushed the
Star Destroyer's hull. With a shower of sparks, the TIE spun out
across the surface of the Star Destroyer and exploded.
"Five," Elarik grinned.
BANG!
The A-wing passed over a tumbling, bouncing piece of TIE debris.
Elarik lost control of the fighter for a moment, then brought it into
a level course down and away from the SD amidst the din of his
alarms.
"You okay?" somebody asked worriedly.
Elaric checked his controls. He was most definitely not. The
flight control system had been severely damaged, and his reactor sys-
tems board was a bright shade of red. "Marginal control and I think
I've got a reactor overload here," he reported.
"Can you make it to the cruiser?" Madiol asked.
"Maybe," Elarik replied.
"Fighters coming in," Five called out.
"Damn," Madiol said. "We'll cover you, Eight."
The reactor warning tones took on a harsh shrill. "Cover your-
selves," Elarik replied. "This thing's gonna blow...not too long."
"Get clear! Eject!" Rhiescu shouted.
Elarik snapped on the helmet and suit seals and almost cranked
the eject bar, but something stopped him. He reached back and found
that the oxygen supply line to his helmet had been severed, probably
by one of the cockpit fittings.
He made a decision.
"I'm going, but I'm going to give the Imperials a gift first,"
he told the squadron. "Get the fighters, I'm going to point this
beast right at their hangar bays and get out of here."
"Make sure you get out," Madiol told him.
"I will, sir." He turned the fighter around and aimed it at the
TIE launch bays.
Cam, bringing the TIE Interceptor back to the _Falcon_, saw his
squadron engaging the A-wings one more time, and--
"What?"
A lone A-wing was on a direct collision course with the Star
Destroyer--specifically with the TIE launch bays. Cam knew that the
_Falcon's_ main hangar area was a mess--the recovery tractor beam
mounts were all a mess, and the TIE bays were the only way back
aboard the vessel. If the A-wing hit, there would be no way for his
men to return to the ship.
Locking the cannons on the A-wing, Cam stabbed his thumbs down
on the triggers. Nothing happened. There was only one thing left to
do. He ran the engines up to their limits and prepared a collision
course.
The ejection system on his TIE had been disabled during the last
battle, and there had not been time to repair it.
"Twenty seconds to reactor overload."
Elarik shut off the reactor alarms and stared at the growing
bulk of the Star Destroyer.
Madiol's voice filled the speakers. "Elarik, get out of there
now or you'll be in the blast radius."
Elarik closed his eyes. "Sir, my oxygen supply line was sev-
ered earlier. I don't have a sealed suit. I can't leave. This is
the only way. Goodbye."
"Elarik!"
Thoughts of his family on his mind, Elarik made the final run of
his all-too brief career as a pilot.
Cam flipped his comm over to a general frequency. "FOR THE EM-
PIRE!!!!!"
Cam's Interceptor slammed into Elarik's A-wing with pinpoint
accuracy at a right angle. His momentum became crushing force at
impact, vaporizing metal and driving his cockpit pod into the belly
of the A-wing, deflecting it from its course and setting off the
reactor early. A golden cone of fire, plasma and parts of the two
ships, rolled away from the impact point, the explosion rocking the
bottom of the Star Destroyer.
Rhiescu's breath caught in her throat, conflicting emotions
threatening to choke her. She tried to speak, but words would not
come.
She blasted another TIE Interceptor to ash.
Stunned and angered by Elarik's death, the Sabers regrouped to
destroy a squadron total of forty-five fighters before the Imperials,
reeling from their losses, began to retreat. Most of the TIEs retur-
ned to the still-functional hangar bay safely, Brenard's death not
having been in vain.
While attempting to enter hyperspace, one of the _Fire Falcon's_
main reactors lost containment and exploded, destroying the vessel.
All hands were lost.
Dni Elarik and Anjin Jiro were both given ceremonial burials in
space, an empty casket in Elarik's case as his body had been utterly
vaporized. The ceremony was softly backlit by the fragments of the
_Fire Falcon_, locked in a slowly decaying orbit around Ord Demios.
Aside from Rebel archivists who eventually stumbled upon the
_Falcon's_ crew manifest, few people knew of, noted, or mourned the
death of Cam Brenard.
It was going to be a long war, however, and the dead weren't
going to be alone.
THE END
--
___________________A L L D O N E! B Y E B Y E!____________________
| __ |
| (__ * _ _ _ _ "Sorry to just drop in, but you never call |
| __)|| | |(_)| \ anymore." --McQueen, Space: AaB |
|_________________________________________________________________________|
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