By Alan B. Pechman
Chapter Two
The chime warbled a mournful sounding tone, snapping Biggs out of his bored
trance. He immediately became alert and checked all system on his X-wing
starfighter. Although his astromech droid did most of the system checks, he
never took it for granted. He remembered a saying from his instructor at the
Imperial Naval Academy: "The pilot that takes things for granted is a dead
pilot."
Biggs noted all systems were fine and operational.
He mused back again about the academy, specifically his instructor, Major
Soontir Fel. Fel was a brilliant pilot who Biggs could never beat and it had
rankled him greatly. He would then take his frustrations out on his roommate,
Derek Klivian, by constantly whipping the young pilot in the simulators. It made
him feel better while also making "Hobbie," as Klivian was called, a better
pilot.
He and Hobbie had served together aboard the Rand Ecliptic after graduation. The
Ecliptic was a large Imperial Freighter that carried its own squadron of
Headhunter starfighters, an older cousin of the X-wing. It was called the Evader
Squadron and Biggs was its Commander. He also served as the Ecliptic's First
Mate and Hobbie was the ship's Executive Officer.
The Ecliptic's Captain was a Rebel sympathizer named Jarm Heliesk. Captain
Heliesk's whole crew was immensely loyal to him and all shared his rebellious
sentiments, including Biggs and Hobbie.
After taking on a large load of precious ore under the protection of the
Imperial Star Destroyer Relentless, the Ecliptic made a run for freedom, its
crew galvanized by her rebellious Captain. The Star Destroyer's escort TIE
fighters, led by none other than Soontir Fel, now a Colonel gave chase. When
Captain Heliesk ordered the aft auxiliary cargo hold's ore shipment jettisoned,
it caused a cloud of ore to screen her from pursuit. The Rand Ecliptic jumped to
lightspeed and escaped.
That seemed like ages ago and it really wasn't.
Biggs' astromech R2 unit, named Raider, automatically kicked the snubfighter out
of hyperspace. All systems were operational and he glanced to his left and
right. The other three X-wings of Red Squadron were where they were supposed to
be: Ahead of him was Red Leader and Red Two. Off his wing and slightly behind on
the right was Red Eleven. Kreg "Boon" Boosian had been designated as Red Four
until a rash of new recruits caused the squadron to have call numbers reassigned
to let the more experienced pilots help the new ones along. Biggs knew this
mission was very important and also knew that he and Boon worked well together,
a fact that Garven Dreis knew as well. The only reason Wedge was allowed to go,
as Dreis' wingman was that he was a hot hand with an X-wing.
"All craft report in," said Red Leader.
"Red Two, standing by."
"Red Three, standing by," said Biggs.
"Red Eleven, standing by, Dave."
Garven Dreis shook his head. These kids were something else. "Lock S-foils into
attack position boys, and set deflector shields even, charge 'em up to full
before we enter the asteroid belt. Biggs, you and Boon separate from us by four
or five klicks to starboard, your discretion, and maintain formation. Anything
out of the ordinary turns up gets reported before investigating. Clear?"
Three responding clicks of their radios confirmed Garven's flight's readiness.
"Execute," said Garven.
Biggs headed off to his right, Boon following his lead. A few small rocks were
all that was evident of the asteroid field this far out, but they had to be
reckoned with anyway. At the speed they were cruising at a small rock could
still penetrate the shielding and wreak havoc with an X-wing's armored hull.
Those rocks became larger and larger the closer in they got. Before they knew
it, Biggs and Boon were in the Graza belt.
They maintained a steady cruising speed that required few adjustments. Biggs
thought about contingencies relating to fighting in the belt. He certainly
didn't relish having to run full throttle in here, but knew he could if he had
to. Only a fool would do so without the proper forethought, he surmised.
"Raider, let me know if anything unusual comes up, and if it does, shoot the
telemetry to Boon and One flight as soon as possible." Biggs keyed his frequency
over to tactical. "Lead, this is Two flight, we've entered the belt and are
scanning."
"Copy that, Two flight. Proceed as planned."
The asteroid belt itself was known to be a fairly rich one that was only
recently plotted by astrogation experts. It was too new for any big activity,
but Biggs knew it wouldn't be long before the oily tendrils of the Mining guild
and the Empire leeched whatever valuable ore there was from it.
The mining guild, in what dealings Biggs had with them aboard the Ecliptic, was
just as bad as any criminal organization. He wouldn't be at all surprised if it
were just a front company for the Hutts or Black Sun.
"Biggs, this is Boon."
Biggs looked over his right shoulder to see Red Eleven moving wide around a
large asteroid. "Go ahead, Boon, whatcha got?"
"My R2 is picking up some ionized fluxing in the Gamma range."
"Raider do you have that?" Biggs' R2 scrolled a negative across his translation
screen. "Boon, I don't have it."
Ion variations usually occurred when larger ships, or many smaller ones, passed
close by a magnetic field, such as the ones associated with these larger
asteroids. Given the reason they were here, Biggs switched his scanners to
tactical.
"Boon, I'm switching scanners to tactical."
Just as he did, Raider activated his threat warning.
Multiple green laser bolts sliced the vacuum around Biggs' X-wing, several
scoring hits on his shields. Biggs slammed the throttle forward and went into an
inverted dive as more beams reached for him.
"Boon! I've got company!" Biggs rolled out of his dive, swerving recklessly
around two boulders the size of a city block. His pursuers continued to fire at
him frenetically. His shields were holding for now, but he knew he needed help.
"Boon, where the blazes are you?"
Biggs noted as he rolled and climbed that he had gained two Imperial TIE
fighters on his tail. As he rolled around the asteroid where Boon was supposed
to be he spotted two more TIE fighters, also called "eyeballs" by the Rebel
pilots, closing in on an intercept to him. There was no sign of Red Eleven and
Biggs didn't need any further prompting to guess what happened to his long time
friend.
"Red Leader, this is Red Three, I've got four, repeat, four eyeballs on me. I
could use a hand here."
"Biggs, you're gonna have to make do for a moment, son. We've got one very angry
Carrack class cruiser throwin' darts at us. Get out of there and execute Gamma
Escape as soon as you're clear."
Biggs realized he was in trouble with no help on the way. Since there were four
of them and one of him, he had to worry about survival. If he turned and fought
here in the asteroid field he might run out of room against the more agile TIE
fighters. He had shields and they didn't but that was more useful in open space
where he could see them coming.
"Raider, shunt all power from lasers to the aft shields. Leave the front shields
as is."
Biggs wove and dodged the hail of green death as best he could but they were
starting to take their toll on his shields with their steady barrage. He knew he
had to clear the asteroid field as fast as possible to execute the escape
profile.
He spotted a particularly large asteroid and dove right for it. The TIE fighters
easily maintained their pursuit and that was what he wanted. He was going to try
and use whatever small amounts of gravity the big rock had to sling him around
the other side in the hopes of opening up some distance between him and his
pursuers.
At the last possible moment he pulled up within meters of the large asteroid.
His fighter bumped hard as he realized the inertia from his dive must have
carried him a little too close to the asteroid surface. He glanced over his
shoulder and spotted one of the TIE's had tried to copy him but didn't pull up
in time and impacted with the asteroid in a gout of flame. One down, three to
go.
The other three TIE fighters really began pouring on the fire now. He realized
that they were chasing him towards where Garven and Wedge must have been before
he made his dive. Now that he changed directions, they weren't going to rely on
the Carrack cruiser for help.
Biggs inverted his fighter scant meters above the huge asteroid's surface as he
crested a small peak. His breath caught in his throat at what he saw.
In a small rift were the remains of a Blockade Runner, its prow buried in the
asteroid surface, only it's aft two-thirds showing. It had to be the Anoat
Pride, he thought, and these fighters weren't corralling him, they were trying
to make sure he didn't reach this spot.
His battered aft shields dropped under the steady barrage and he immediately
rolled and allocated his remaining front shields to the rear. He knew they
couldn't last long enough for his R2 unit to repair the damage. He climbed away
from the asteroid and began the classic X-wing weave.
The weave was a maneuver the Rebel pilots used in open space when they were out
numbered and it gave their enemies a harder target to shoot at. In the Graza
asteroid field it was tantamount to suicide due to the already difficult chore
of maneuvering at normal speeds, let alone full throttle.
"Raider, shunt all available power, except life support to the engines, now!"
The R2 unit scrolled a message across the screen, which he had a hard time
diverting his visual scan to read while spiraling around a small asteroid. Green
beams continued to lance around him.
"Yes, even targeting. Leave me just enough to maintain fire control, though, but
cut the targeting energy, I won't need it."
The extra energy did increase his lead over his pursuers somewhat, but the agile
Imperial fighters were still faster and began to close again. But with speed
came reduced maneuverability as one TIE fighter found out. Its port solar panel
grazed the small asteroid Biggs narrowly missed and it careened off into a rock
the size of the doomed fighter. That left two. Biggs noted the asteroid field
was beginning to thin out as he raced towards open space.
He realized that he would stand a better chance in a fight with his lasers now
that he was in clearer space, but he had shunted all remaining power to his
engines and it would take a little bit of time to reinitialize his targeting
systems. It was time he wouldn't have.
Ahead of him was the somewhat large, out of place asteroid he and Boon had flown
past on their way in. He had an idea and dove for it. He didn't think the TIE's
would go for the same maneuver he had done previously, but they didn't need to.
His X-wing rocked as a green bolt hit his X-wing. He noted his speed decrease
somewhat and realized he must have lost an engine. The green bolts seemed to
intensify as he continued his death spiral towards the lone asteroid.
He thumbed the proton torpedo switch and waited until he looked to be within 200
meters of the asteroid, and fired. He stopped the spiral and pulled up hard. The
controls were a bit sluggish and he realized that last hit also took out some
maneuvering jets.
He pulled up just as the torpedo impacted with the asteroid. The resulting
explosion rocked his snubfighter and warning lights lit up all across his
control board. His fighter began to slow noticeably. It was then that he noticed
that the green bolts had stopped.
As his fighter drifted along at the momentum he had been carrying, he saw no
signs of the pursuing TIE fighters.
"Well, I'll be a smelly ol' Jawa, it worked!" The explosion from the torpedoes
had destroyed the TIE fighters but left him practically dead in space. His
diagnostic board showed only one engine working at half power and life support
working normally. All other systems were down. He looked over his shoulder and
noted that Raider, his R2 unit was busy extending various utility arms to get
some systems fixed and online.
He was clear of the Graza belt, but his craft was barely alive.
He began going through an emergency checklist when Raider's translation screen
came online. "How bad is it, Raider?"
Bad.
"How long until I'm in ship shape?"
Major systems damage. Most systems will remain inert until repaired by
appropriate facilities.
"That bad, huh?"
Worse.
"How so?" Biggs couldn't imagine what could be worse. A cold thought ran up his
spine and down into the pit of his stomach. He looked around wildly.
Off to his starboard, just emerging from the Graza belt, was the distinct oblong
profile of a Carrack class cruiser.
Biggs hammered the hyperspace lever.
Nothing.
"Raider can you get the hyperdrive online?"
Unknown. Attempting reinitialization.
Biggs knew that if Raider couldn't, he was dead for sure.
Two X-wing snubfighters burst into the silence of the Yavin system. Their worn
hulls were decorated with newly placed scarring from the fight they were in a
standard half-day ago. In short order two older Y-wing fighters flanked them;
their blocky forms cumbersome to the X-wing's sleek lines.
"Gold Leader to Red Leader, come in." The Y-wing pilot looked to port at the two
X-wings. They looked pretty beat up, he thought. He could see the X-wing pilot
turn his head and give a brief wave.
"Hiya, Dutch. Come by to see us home?"
Jon "Dutch" Vander, Gold Leader and long time friend of Red Leader Garven Dreis,
said, "Sure are, Garven. How's everything?"
"Oh…" Garven paused, exhaling. "I've seen better days, Jon. Thanks for the
escort."
Dutch knew Garven Dreis was lying. He knew Garven from the clone wars and had
even been his wingman at one time. If there was one thing a wingman knew
anything about, it was the mental state of their lead pilot. He could hear the
uneasiness in his longtime friend's voice.
Dutch did a quick system scan and outside of his own patrol fighters, the two
X-wings were alone. That could only mean Red Squadron had lost two more pilots.
Dutch shook his head. He didn't know which two they happened to be but he knew
it hurt just the same.
The four fighters headed to the fourth moon of Yavin where the Rebel Alliance's
main base was in silence.
Bob Hudsol was a gruff looking man with a gruff sounding voice that brooked no
dissention. He looked up from the flight logs on his data pad at the pilot
seated in one of the dilapidated pilot chairs. The briefing room was empty
except for the two men.
According to the logs, Garven Dreis' flight had found the missing Anoat Pride at
great cost. Although they were separated at a good distance, one of Garven's
missing pilots, Biggs Darklighter, had had the sense to have his astromech droid
send continuos telemetry to Garven's X-wing. That was in turn stored by his own
astromech for later review.
"Good work, Dreis. Thanks to your boys we can plan both an Op to retrieve the
goods off of that ruined 'Runner and maybe exact a little revenge on that
Carrack you and that Antilles kid tangled with."
"Gee, Bob, that's sure comforting to know. I'll be sure and include your warm
sentiments to the Darklighter and Boosian families. Whatever that damned ship
was carrying had better be worth the shoddy Intel we got to start the mission
with."
Hudsol bit his lip, fighting back his fiery Corellian temper. He knew that these
pilots got real temperamental when they lost one of their own and with good
reason. It made him glad, though, that these pilots got these kinds of serious
wake up calls once and a while to realize that they were at war with an enemy
that wanted nothing more than to grind them to atoms. He sometimes felt that
these hotshot fighter types often lost sight of that fact.
"Look, Dreis, I'm sorry about those boys." Hudsol took a deep breath. "But they,
like you, knew what they were getting themselves into when they joined up and
the sooner those kids learn what's at stake here, the better."
Garven just stared at Hudsol, nodding ever so slightly in grudging
acknowledgement.
"What's on that ship, Bob."
Hudsol glanced down at his datapad as if searching for the answer that he
already knew and looked up at Garven. "A huge shipment of proton torpedoes. We
stole 'em from a transport that was on its way to the Cygnus corporation where
you can bet they were going on board those damned Imperial Assault Gunboats."
"Well there it is then." Garven stood and collected his flight helmet and
gloves.
"I couldn't have said it any better," Hudsol stood as well. He leaned heavily on
the table. "Expect this recovery Op to go off by tomorrow or maybe even sooner.
I know your squadron isn't at full compliment but we got two rooks coming in
from the Yellow Aces tonight to fill in. At least you'll be able to put eight
X-wings into the operation with those two until your little group gets back from
Alderaan."
"Well, shoot, I guess it'll do. We'll be ready, Bob." Garven turned and left the
briefing room. As he left Bob Hudsol straightened and switched his datapad off.
"You always are Garven, you always are."
Lieutenant Theron Nett swung his X-wing around in a lazy left turn past Yavin's
tenth planet, heading for deep space. On his scanner he noted Jek "Piggy"
Porkins had widened his position to him to about three kilometers.
Porkins was a relatively new member of Red Squadron having come in by way of the
Yellow Aces squadron from Tierfon base. He was a good pilot, as far as he could
tell, and a very good shot. Theron had heard that the Tierfon Yellow Aces put
out some quality pilots.
"Say, Piggy," Theron said. "I just received some news for you about the Yellow
Aces. Seems they just lost two pilots recently."
Even through the distortion on the radio Theron could hear the angst in the
rotund pilot's voice. "You don't say, Lieutenant. Any names?"
Theron noticed Piggy's fighter had closed the gap somewhat. "Yeah, some guy
named Janson and another named Chan." Leveling off from his turn, Theron
maintained straight and level flying.
"Janson?" There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Gee, that really burns
me, El-tee. Janson was a good friend. Chan must be a new guy, I don't recall
him."
Theron flew on in silence for a minute before continuing. "Well, Piggy, you'll
be joining Janson soon enough. I guarantee it." Theron noticed Piggy's X-wing
get noticeably closer now. His S-foils were still closed so he knew he hadn't
really angered the younger pilot yet. He was trying to gauge the younger man's
reaction to bad news, coupled with jibes, to see how far he could push him. It
was something Theron was good at and he had theorized it made the younger pilots
tougher.
"Hah hah, very funny there El-tee." He could here the growing anger in Piggy's
voice as the younger man continued. "I'll have you know that Wes Janson was a
damned good friend of mine, sir."
"Yeah? Is that so?" Theron bit sarcastically. He almost had him.
"Yeah, and as soon as we land, you and I can discuss this, I'm sure."
"Uh-huh, I see." Theron paused. "Well, in that case you'll probably be reuniting
with him at that time, then, Piggy."
"Is that right?" He could definitely tell he had finally struck the nerve he was
looking for.
"Yes. That's because he just transferred along with Wenton Chan into Red
Squadron."
"What?"
"What part of that didn't you understand, Piggy. They flew in an hour ago."
"Hoooo heeeee, well I'll be a Horned Crab!" As if in empathy with his
exclamation, Piggy barrel rolled his fighter. "You know I'll get you for this,
sir. But thanks, that's great news!"
Theron smiled. It seemed the young pilot was fairly good-natured. He figured he
had to be since he was always kidded with about his weight. Living with the
nickname "Piggy" must've been a hard thing to deal with.
Jek "Piggy" Porkins eased off the throttle on his X-wing and began to slide back
to the position he held before Lieutenant Theron Nett began playing games with
him. Nett was tough for him to figure out because the taciturn pilot never
seemed to kid around about anything. Piggy was, by his own admittance, a fairly
mellow person until riled up. Getting him to that point did take a lot with but
one exception. If his family or friends' lives were at risk he became obsessive.
Piggy was from Bestine IV in the Bestine system. Growing up on the coasts of the
main continent, young Jek Porkins flew with his father on interplanetary hops
for a local interplanetary shuttle line. Berren Porkins, his father, would let
his only son fly on maintenance ferry flights that carried no customers. His son
had a knack for flying so upon Jek's fifteenth birthday his father bought him a
used T-16 Skyhopper.
The old tri-winged Skyhopper was in poor shape but it was all his father could
afford. The young Porkins rose to the challenge and apprenticed himself to a
ship's mechanic at the Bestine IV spaceport. Under the tutelage of old master
mechanic Wehn Furrmpo, Jek Porkins learned how to fix his old Skyhopper.
When not working and going to school, young Jek would fly the rocky coasts near
his home targeting the elusive sink crabs that were a bane to the local fishing
economy. The sink crabs would come upon schools of fish and grab what they could
in their oversized pincers and sink to the ocean bottom where they could devour
their prey. Jek became an expert shot by hunting the menace crabs.
Upon turning 19 years old the young Porkins signed up to be first mate on board
the Bestine Trading Company's free trader fleet. It wasn't long afterward that
disaster struck for the young man.
The Empire came to Bestine IV to establish a base. The government of that planet
opposed it. The Empire did not suffer rebukes well and, as it had done countless
times, moved an invasion fleet into the system and pounded it into submission.
In the planetary bombardment, Jek Porkins' family was killed.
When word of Bestine IV's massacre reached him, Jek immediately jumped ship and
sought revenge. He eventually hooked up with a rebel cell on Bestine IV and they
realized his talents were in flying and ship repair. He was then transferred to
a training squadron on the Outer Rim on the planet Tierfon. The training
squadron was called the Yellow Aces.
Through attrition against the Empire, Red Squadron, one of the young Alliance's
top squadrons, needed temporary replacement pilots until some seasoned veterans
could be transferred into it. Since Piggy had distinguished himself with the
Yellow Aces, he was sent to Yavin IV to act as a temporary pilot three months
previous. Although only a temporary pilot, Porkins soon proved his worth and
unofficially became part of Red Squadron.
"Red Ten, this is Base One, over." The comm traffic snapped Piggy from his
musings as he heard the main base calling Lieutenant Nett.
"Base One, this is Red Ten. Red Six and myself are standing by."
"Red Ten we have unidentified traffic at sector two seven by one thirteen. They
aren't squawking. Over."
Theron Nett recalibrated his scanners to active mode and turned to a heading
that would intercept the unknown craft or object. All spacecraft carried
transponders that identified them as friend or foe. The transponder sent out a
continuous pulse or "squawk" unique to its own identification. Only in hostile
situations did crews not want to squawk its code.
"Lock S-foils into attack position, Red Six. Base One this is Red Ten. Do we
have permission to engage?" He reached up and hit the lever that moved his
S-foils into attack position. The S-foils, or wings, split into the formation
that gave the X-wing its name.
Theron's scanners showed the unknown to be a blip about 16 kilometers distant.
It was colored red to indicate that it was a hostile; and until they could
positively identify it otherwise it would remain as such. Whatever it was, it
was small enough that he couldn't visually see it yet and he surmised that that
was a good thing. If the Empire was sending a probe it would be bad but at least
they would have time to evacuate their secret base on Yavin IV's moon.
"Affirmative, Red Ten. If the unknown cannot be identified as a friendly,
dispatch it with all haste. Base One is monitoring."
As the range to target indicator scrolled down, Theron had an idea. If this were
a hostile craft he wanted it to know they were there in order to spook it into
running. That way their active scanners could possibly get a read on it since
they couldn't do so already. To that end he switched his weapons system over to
Proton Torpedoes. He thumbed the selector to dual fire in case it was a hostile
target. "Piggy, switch to torps. I want to spook this thing."
"I'm right with you El-tee."
As they closed within five "klicks" as the pilots referred to kilometers, Theron
began to fixate with his eye at where he supposed the target to be. This was so
any and all movement would attract him and he could focus better on what it was
that was moving. It was a scan that veteran pilots used to get a jump on their
targets. The pilots that couldn't master it usually didn't end up among the
living for long.
At a little over four klicks, Piggy spoke up. "I've got it, El-tee. It's small,
either a probe or fighter."
Theron marveled at how good Piggy's eyesight was. "Great, Red Six, you've got
lead." Theron throttled back enough to let Piggy's X-wing advance just ahead of
him and off to port. At just over three klicks Theron spotted the unknown craft.
Whatever it was it moved very slowly. The little ambient light from Yavin's sun
glinted dully off its metallic hull. Theron's missile lock indicator began to
beep and at two klicks, he got a steady tone from his R2 unit indicating he had
a solid lock. At the speed they were closing the two X-wing fighters would be
upon the unknown craft quickly.
"By the deep blue sea, Lieutenant Nett, that's an X-wing!" Piggy's exclamation
rocked Theron with its content. He saw the younger pilot disengage in a steep
pull up and to starboard. Theron inverted and flew just over the now apparent
snubfighter. Piggy was right, it was an X-wing.
Theron cut his power back and turned to port in a tighter arc than his inertial
compensators could handle and felt his body tug against the seat restraints. He
rolled his fighter over again to remain with the relative "up" position of the
unknown X-wing.
It was moving rather slow and looked like it had been through a firestorm.
Panels were blown off the top port fusial engine, while the lower starboard
engine was all but gone. He could see the R2 unit swiveling its dome around and
began flashing light at him in sequence. As he got closer he could make out the
X-wing's markings.
Atop the wings were a red block on the leading edge towards the wingtip guns and
three red stripes that began at the center of the wing by its root and trailed
off the back of the wing. A Red stripe ran on either side of the fuselage and
Theron knew that not only was it a member of Red Squadron, but call sign Red
Three by the number of stripes. Which could only be one person.
Biggs Darklighter.
Theron's R2 unit translated Biggs' R2 unit's message. It said the craft was low
on power and cockpit was low on oxygen. As he watched, he could make out Biggs
struggling to lift his head and look over at him as he sidled his own X-wing up
next to Biggs' on a parallel heading.
Biggs' hand came up in a thumbs up sign.
Theron grinned and return the gesture. "Base One, this is Red Ten. The unknown
craft is Red Three and he's pretty badly damaged. Request Emergency Evac get
here immediately. I don't know how he did it, but he's here Base One."
"Base One copies all, Red Ten. Dispatching shuttle Renderra now. That's great
news, Red Ten."
"It sure is, Base One. It sure is."