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Howlrunner History

Slate En'Kale stepped back from his beautiful fighter. It was a modified

1-7 Howlrunner that he had juiced up. It had all started about 200 years

ago, Slate thought. That was when my life took a turn for the worst.

Slate, now about 268 years old, was still an excellent fighter that the

New Republic depended upon for leadership and flying prowess. But he had

seen better days.

Slate En'Kale yanked at the stick to avoid crashing into the disabled Tie

Fighter. Whew, he thought, that was a close one. Slate quickly got his

mind back on the battle that roared around him.

"Blue squadron! This is blue leader. Go for those Star Destroyers

attacking our Cruisers. Follow me."

About five other ships followed Slate on his suicidal attack way into

enemy lines. He was the leader, they were the followers. En'Kale rapidly

pressed the red button on his joystick to fire his modified E-Web Blasters

at an enemy Laser Turret. The turret took one more shot at him before

blowing up and his forward blast shield easily took the hit. This battle

is getting out of hand, he thought to himself.

"Watch out Slate! Two of 'em behind you!" The young man did a right spin

and a somersault and came down behind the two TIE Interceptors. The TIE

Interceptor model only had forward shields so it took just two blasts of

his E-Web to silence them both forever.

Now the Destroyers were in sight. One of these had the General of this

entire sector on it. Damn! We have to know which one. Suddenly he came up

with a plan.

"Blue Leader to Red Leader! Are you there?"

"Yeah Slate, I'm here. Watcha need?"

"Sam, get your squad and attack the 327-A Star Destroyer."

"Why Slate?"

"Just do it!" There was a brief pause while Sam shot up an Armored

Transport and then Sam replied.

"Right, I'll be there soon."

During the brief conversation, the Blue Squad had isolated and killed four

squads of TIE Fighters, one squad of TIE Bombers, and three Armored

Transports.

"This is rebel command. All leaders, keep up the good work. Blue squad,

you're doing an excellent job." A smile came to Slate's parched lips. A

complement from Command, that meant something. Just as he was thinking

this, four squads of TIE Advanced's came from above Blue Squadron. There

was a short skirmish, and then Blue Squadron was gone. There was however

an escape pod that slipped through the melee to safety. Slate was aboard

it.

The battle ended in disaster for the Rebel Alliance. Gold and Blue

Squadrons were completely distroyed, Red Squadron was crippled, and one

Correlian Cruiser was damaged beyond repair. The new Rebel Commander would

have been Slate, except he was gone, presumed dead. So Sam was the next

choice. Sam Paragon didn't want the job but it was all but forced upon

him. The new commander summoned the entire rebel fleet and moved to the

abandoned mining system of Keelus B. There, a new fleet would be

constructed with the remaining Titanium and the Rebel army would take to

the skies again.

The solitary escape pod landed on a small moon of Keelus C, thousands of

Light Years from Keelus B. Unknown to Slate En'Kale, he wasn't that far

from his friends and allies. He opened the escape pod door and grabbed his

Blaster Rifle and Pistol. He would have to make a home for himself here.

Fortunately for Slate, this planet was forested and had many herbivorous

species that would make easy hunting. In the Escape Pod was a week of

food, but he knew he was going to be on Keelus C for a lot longer then

that. His temporary form of transportation had landed near a huge

Vallenwood tree. This tree had been struck by lightning at least once

because the trunck was hollow. He turned on the flashlight that rested on

the scope of his Pistol and glanced inside. Good, he thought, I have it

all to myself. He moved all of the remaining electronic equipment inside

the tree and hooked up a generator cable from the gear to the Pod. He

built a small fire from the broken off bark of his new home and started

cooking his dinner. Slate made plans for the future.

"Captain, tell me the status of our fleet before and after the latest

rebel invasion."

"Yes sir. Before the attack we had 8 Fighter Squads, 4 Bomber Squads, 4

Interceptor Squads, 2 Advanced Squads, 6 Transports, and a Destroyer. Now

we have 5 Fighter Squads, a Bomber Squad, 3 Interceptor Squads, 2 Advanced

Squads, 4 Transports, and a damaged Destroyer." The latest news infuriated

Council Ja'Sor. That was thirty ships! How could a simple army of Rebels

disable or destroy that many of our ships when we had trained pilots? This

was an outrage. He would kill them all, if he new where they were.

"Hey Sam! This just in from the battle in the Gamma Sector. We knocked out

thirty ships and only lost ten!"

"Good. Very Good. Prepare for the next attack. Hmm, where shall it be? Are

there any supply frigates going towards the empirial base in Iota Sector?"

"Yes sir, there are. Two actually. One of them has an entire wing of

defenders. It must be important supplies."

"Good work. That will be our next attack. Give the fleet two days rest

then move out."

"Yes sir!" Things were finaly starting to work out for the rebel alliance

and for Sam. If only Slate were here, he thought, then we would have won

the war by now.

If only Sam was here, thought the stranded pilot, then I would have

someone to talk to at least. Things were going well for En'Kale as well

however. He had built three drone robots out of the Escape Pod and had

them mining for Titanium in the hills near his home. He had constructed

traps for food all around his tree and checked them every day. One day,

after he left to check his traps, he found a huge chunk of reckage that

had fallen during the night. It was all Titanium, and there were some

intact Transmitters and Sensors as well. He had enough machinary to build

his own ship and leave this planet, but he didn't really want to. Keelus C

was a beautiful planet with enought food and water for him to live

comfortably for ever. Eventually he would want to leave, but not know. He

heard one of the drones coming from the hills. It was carrying something,

though he couldn't see what from this far away. As it came closer he

recognized the lump in it's arms. Titanium. The next day, EnKale started

drawing up plans for his new ship on his salvaged computer. He designed it

for pirating. It would need to be fast, powerful, and stealthy. Hmmm. His

mind went to work on the ship and continued working until he fell asleep.

The soft buzz of the drones woke him up. Slate yawned and streched. He was

hungry so he went off to check his traps. The first two were empty but the

third had a small rabit-like animal hanging from it. He didnt like killing

these animals but he was forced to for survival. EnKale brought the animal

back to his home, cooked it, and ate it. He placed the bones in a neat

pile with the others that he would eventually make into silverware and

other tools. Next he checked on the Titanium that he had gathered. Damn! I

left the drones running all night. He sprinted to the hill where two of

the drones were sprawled on the ground. He searched for the other and

found it deeper in the mine. He set the remaining drone to repair the

others and walked back to his camp to finish his plans. He named his ship

the 1-7 Howlrunner, because it took him seven tries to make something that

would work and when he finally did he howled with delight and ran around

his camp. The 1-7 was a sleek and small ship with two heavy blasters on

the front. It had five basic engine sylinders and a wing span of about 25

feet. He had rigged up a basic deflecto shield generator that would cover

basic E-Webs and some Laser Cannon fire. His escape pod had ALS(Active

Long Range Sensors) and an EPR(Electro-Photo Recepter) for sensors. In the

reckage near his trap he found a Short Range Target Sensor or STS. He

didnt need any communications for he was alone. He took the programming

console out of one of the broken drones and was going to hook it up to his

targeting computer. With himself and two drones to work on it, he

estimated that it would only take about seven months to complete. That

would be enough time to start missing his real home, he thought. Better

get started.

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!EFTimes New Roman

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