Shadows of our Fathers - 2 BBY

[Bette Davis]

"Look sharp nuggets, shuttle is docking in one minute!" The sergeant stalked through the Lambda-class shuttle between the rows of strapped in pilots toward the front. He gave Ensign Davis an extra sneer before sitting in his jump seat and strapping in himself.

Davis didn't return the look. The ensign's shaved head prickled against the seat, and she turned just slightly to catch a view of her new home through a viewport. The ISD Annihilator hung in space like a dagger, pointing down along the shuttle's z-axis as they arced in toward a hangar bay.

"Don't puke," muttered the pilot sitting next to her, managing to dig his elbow into her arm.

She didn't acknowledge him. If you fed the animals they'd swarm. As the only female pilot of her graduating class, and the first female stationed on the Annihilator, Davis had an uphill battle to fight. She stared straight ahead, her eyes focusing on the bulkhead as the shuttle eased through the magnetic shielding and landed with a thump.

"To your feet nuggets!" roared Sergeant Gallan, and the shuttle's interior exploded as everyone released their crash webbing and stood up at once, grabbing their bag from under their seat and hot-footing it out onto the deck plating of Annihilator. "You will be given your assignments," he shouted. "Report to your commanding officers once you have your squadron number! I give you to the bosom of the Imperial Navy nuggets, make me proud! And if you can't do that, then at least don't be an idiot!"

They formed up in a rectangle on the deck, and Davis found herself at the front. She stood stiffly at attention, her bag at her feet, eyes straight ahead. Her uniform fit her differently than everyone else, and she was shorter than the average man in the unit. Thankfully the hand over to the Annihilator went without incident, other than a few hard stares while the ooh rah speeches were given. Squadron assignments were handed out next. They were scattering the nuggets, or untested pilots, through the existing fighter squadrons. Everyone knew that the Shadow and Onyx squadrons were berthed on the Annihilator, and everyone wanted to end up on an elite squadron, but the names weren't mentioned. Ensign Davis stared at the orders she was given.

Shuttle pool

Once she might have cried, but Davis just felt angry. She looked up and caught Sergean Gallen looking at her. He gave her an unpleasant smile. She stared at him as though her eyes were lasers, and then she turned on her heel and walked right up to the lieutenant...Tran from the Annilhilator. He looked at her blandly.

"I was the top of my class, sir. I am a fighter pilot." Davis held out her orders so he could see them. "There's been a mistake."

He looked at the orders and then back to his datapad. "No mistake. You will report to barracks 026 and Commander Keene." His nose twitched, as though she smelled unpleasant.

"My simulator scores -"

Lt. Tran slowly looked at her eyes, his bored gaze hardening. "Miss Davis -"

"Ensign," she ground out, unable to stop herself.

"-Report to your barracks." He narrowed his eyes, and then turned away from her.

Davis hefted her bag on her shoulder and stalked across the hangar bay, following the general flow of traffic into the ISD's inner workings.

[Bette Davis]

"Listen up cabbies," Commander Keene said, the barracks quieting to hear him. He was a older officer, his temples sprinkled with a generous helping of grey and his uniform clinging for dear life across his belly. "We have ourselves a celebrity posting. Ensign Bette Davis, fresh out of the academy." Thirty-eight pairs of eyes fastened on her, and she stared resolutely ahead. "We don't have private female accommodations, so there is a refresher schedule to be enforced. Between 21:00 and 21:30 the refresher will be Ensign Davis'."

The long room full of double bunk racks seemed to lengthen as she looked down it to where the refresher door was at the end. Davis squared her shoulders. Keene continued, his voice a nasal drone. "You have a rack to yourself Davis. One of the cabbies -you, Mitchell - will show you the mess hall and briefing rooms. Your first shift is at 04:00." With that he turned on his heel and left the barracks.

She clutched the reinforced nylon strap of her back, hiking it over her shoulder, and headed down the room, looking for the empty bunk. The men, in various stages of dress, and all obviously interrupted during their down time, watched her walk. It felt like a hundred prickly bugs crawling up her back. Her heart was beating loudly, but finally the bunk appeared. She slung her bag to the mattress and inspected the locker built into the bulkhead. Slowly noise began to return to the room, as the other pilots returned to their activities. So it was to be the silent treatment.

Suited her just fine.

Davis unzipped her bag and hung up her dress uniform, a grey affair that had badly tailored pants, and a pair of flightsuits. Underthings were quickly stowed, and the locker closed. It had thumbprint security, and she pressed her thumb to it, coding it to her alone.

"Hey- woah!" Mitchell jerked back as she whirled around at the sound of his voice. "Ready for the grand tour, Davis?" He was a few years older than her, reasonably attractive, and friendly. He gestured with his head down the room.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, thank you." Davis followed him back up the barracks to the wide passage beyond, the cabbies practically ignoring them as they passed.

[Bette Davis]

If she'd only been born a boy, as her father wished, she would be a fighter jockey, or even an officer. Losing her mother when she was an infant hadn't helped - Sir Charles Davis had never remarried, never gotten the heir he wanted.

He'd raised her like a boy, at least until she hit puberty, and then he hadn't known what to do with her. Losing his special attention and being forced into etiquette lessons to undo the damage he'd done on her 'education' had hurt worse than a blaster bolt. Teenage Bette wanted to fly. So she signed up and joined the Imperial Academy. Her father pulled strings to get her in, though he had made it quite clear he could not protect her once she signed on the dotted line. She would belong to the Empire, body and soul. He had never replied to any of her letters home.

After a few months, she stopped writing.

Now, at nineteen, she was an Ensign in the Navy, assigned to her first posting, and set to twiddle her thumbs behind the console of a Lambda-class shuttle for the rest of her career. Eyes tracked her everywhere she went, and she found to her chagrin that the refresher in the barracks, besides being very open floor plan and having a proliferation of urinals and not many stalls, lacked a lock on the door. She showered quickly and pulled her clothes on while she was still tingling from the ions.

Davis padded barefoot into the barracks, where nearly everyone was in their rack already and the lights were dim. She stowed her things and slipped into her bunk, pulling the utilitarian blanket tight over her. She found herself staring at the bunk above her... and eventually exhaustion over took her. She slept.

[Bette Davis]

Life continued for a few weeks. Bette flew only three times, all three sans passengers. Not only was she to fly shuttles, apparently a woman couldn't be trusted to actually ferry human beings from one ship to another. Cargo only, and with a co-pilot watching her like a hawk.

She ate with the other cabbies in the mess, but only spoke when spoken to. Drawing attention was bad. Blending in, good. Meekness did not come easily, however; the inside of her cheek was a mess of scar tissue from constantly biting it. Inside of her, Bette could feel the pressure building.

She walked through the passages of the ISD, toward the simulator room. The pods were arranged five to a cubicle, with observation platforms scattered throughout the vast chamber. The platforms would display whatever simulation was running for the benefit of an instructor or officer. All the pods could run the same simulation jointly, or separate scenarios, and when they had free time pilots would often spend it here, honing their skills. Bette was one of them.

She climbed into a pod and pulled the hatch closed, the interior dark for a moment and then lighting up the familiar consoles and controls of a TIE advanced fighter. Bette adjusted the helmet she wore, and felt the pod lifting as the simulation she'd selected spun up. When she took the controls the blank view screen exploded into a starfield and the fighter floated free of the artificial gravity of the ISD.

Bette fired up the sensors, sweeping the region for bogeys and finding none. Standard recon mission around an asteroid belt that was blocking the fleet's sensors, searching for rebel fighters hiding just inside.

[Bette Davis]

The sensors were only picking up the asteroids, riding listlessly through space as Bette flew her TIE in close. Her automated wingman followed, a bot capable of following directions and sometimes making their own decisions, depending on what sort of sim the pods were running. In this one Bette was the one running the show.

She toggled the comm. "Black leader, I'm going in for a closer look. Sensors can't penetrate past the first few 'roids."

"Copy that, Black Five. Stay sharp. Those rebels can't have gotten far." The voice acting was atrocious, but Bette had learned the hard way that giggling over a sim voice would bring unwanted attention. She restrained herself to a wry smile, and then arced her ship into a loop, diving into the asteroid belt with her wingman on her six.

Sensors were immediately overwhelmed by information, and she tapped on the console to filter out everything small enough for her shields to handle. "I'm going in close to that big one," she informed her wingman. Rebels (and pirates) were fond of latching onto large asteroids and going dark, waiting for the threat to pass by. The 'big one' was huge, easily large enough to conceal a cruiser behind it, and she dodged around it, scanning the surface -

A trio of X-Wings burst around the edges of a nearby 'roid, nearly flying right into her. Better swore and jerked on the flight stick, evading and changing course to follow. "Found them," she bit out, her wingman copying and accelerating to join her. The Rebels juked around another asteroid, the slow moving space rock rolling in the opposite direction and buying them some time as Bette had to swing wide to avoid being crushed.

Her TIE Advanced screamed through the asteroids, her targeting system working on getting a lock on the slowest X-Wing. A small rock came between them, and she pressed her fingers on the trigger, her plasma cannon blowing the asteroid to pieces before she could hit it. Bette kept firing, catching the starboard engine of the Rebel fighter and sending it spiraling into the side of another asteroid. It exploded silently, the shock wave shaking her ship as she flew through it.

[Bette Davis]

The dance of starfighters in space was a frenetic one, set not to music but to the beat of a pilot's heart and the rasp of their breath inside their helmets. Flightsuits squeaked as control yokes were pushed and pulled, the steering pedals reacting smoothly to every reflexive jerk of a foot. Bette focused on the lead Rebel, letting her wingman peel off and follow the second X-Wing. He led her through the asteroids, movements smooth and unpredictable. She bit her lip as she worked to get a targeting lock on him. Comm chatter indicated a Rebel attack fleet had dropped out of hyperspace on top of her ISD, but she couldn't do anything about that. Not with this - Bette tasted iron as she had to yank hard on the yoke to avoid a rock, the G forces momentarily crushing her chest before the inertial dampers compensated.

She opened her mouth a bit, separating her perforated lip from her teeth with a bit of effort, and found the Rebel had used the distraction to flip his fighter up to follow her trajectory. She was now the hunted. "Frack!" Bette put most of her power into rear shields, spiraling around a lumbering asteroid as the X-Wing splattered the area around her with laser fire. Suddenly she was free of the field, shooting out toward the bottom of the ISD as it hung in space above her. Fighters filled the black, swarming around in wing groups - all squadrons had been scrambled to meet the new threat and were making headway against the Y and X-wing squadrons of the Rebel fleet. Vanilla TIES were squishy, easy to vape if you hit the engines, which was why she vastly preferred the shielded Advanced model which seemed to take into account that the Empire's pilots were not a replaceable group of clones anymore.

Her sensors lit up red and her ship shuddered as the Rebel behind her scored a hit, her shield strength evaporating as it took the brunt of the attack. Bette flew straight into a dogfight, evading the TIE and hoping they'd pick up her tail and light him up. No such luck. She suffered the Gs as she looped up her Y axis and then soared down it, her TIE slightly more maneuverable than the X-Wing. The Rebel tried to keep up, then split off, only to find she'd flipped her ship around and was now headed straight for him. Bette pressed the button and her laser cannons lit up, green bolts of energy blatting into the X-Wing, demolishing it's shields and then exploding it just before her ship flew through it.

Bette whooped, and looked for another target, only to find that the sim was powering down. Ships winked out of existence around her, and the artificial gravity of the Annihilator sucked her back in, the simulator pod shaking slightly as it sank back into it's moorings. She sat back in her seat, adrenaline still pumping, and then ripped out of the crashwebbing and pulled her helmet and gloves off as the pod unsealed and cracked open. "What the frell is going on! My sim wasn't done yet!"

[Bette Davis]

The pilot (http://bloody-disgusting.com/photosizer/upload/Tom-Cruise-tom-crui090310.jpg) leaning against the side of the simulator pod was only slightly taller than she was and he had a cocky grin on his face as she climbed out. "Hey, calm down, I just wanted to see who dusted me." He looked her over, lingering at her chest, and then looked up at her face. "Fuck me, you're a girl!"

"And you're an idiot," Bette snapped, leaning back into the pod and pulling out her helmet. She tucked it under her arm. "I thought my sim was closed."

"Well," he said, scratching his head, apparently still confused by her gender, "Sometimes I jump into running sims. Uh. I'm Torre. Lieutenant Val Torre."

She ignored his proffered hand and closed up the pod, causing him to jump back. "Ensign Davis. You fly X-Wings often?"

"In sims. Helps me out in the black - I have a good feel for what they can do. I can't believe you're the pilot that just took me down." He folded his arms across his chest and grinned.

Bette glowered. "It wasn't like you made it hard for me." She brushed past him, ignoring his whistle as she left the simulation room. She hurried down the hallway after stowing the helmet in the ready room, flight gloves gripped tightly in her hand.

[Bette Davis]

Days turned into weeks. In the black all you had to go on was a chrono on your wrist and the cycles of the crew to keep track of the time. Bette spent the time flying shuttles when she was ordered to, and flying in the sims when she wasn't. She had seen Lieuenant Torres in the mess once, and he'd winked at her, of all things. Bette kept her head down and concentrated on her food, but a careful inquiry later had uncovered that Val Torre was none other than Razor, a pilot in the elite Onyx Squadron.

She'd heard that Onyx had been temporarily assigned to the Annihilator, but in a crew of nearly fifty thousand souls she never even imagined she'd meet one of them. Even if he had been extremely annoying, it was still...a glimpse at a life she longed for. A life that she was growing to realize was never going to materialize. Bette rubbed her head, peering in one of the tiny mirrors in the 'fresher. Her hair was beginning to grow out, so she'd had to shave the sides and back again, conforming to military standards that allowed for a little length on top. She had a flight in the morning, or whatever counted as morning out in the black, a Moff coming aboard from Ord Cantrell.

Bette bared her teeth at the mirror, making sure she'd brushed them as clean as she could, and then she zipped up her toiletries bag and ducked out of the empty room, into the barracks full of bunks. It was dimly lit by a few soft lights in the deck, and she found her way to her bunk carefully, threading her way through snoring cabbies. With her personal items stowed and secured, she slipped into bed, the soft sheets an incongruous feature - but one she wasn't going to complain about. Sleep came quickly.

When she woke up, it was still dark in the room...and someone was on top of her. Bette opened her mouth to shout and a hand clamped over it. Someone whispered in her ear, "Keep your mouth shut, bitch, or this will get a lot worse for you." She froze, one hand still up by her face, neatly tucked under her pillow, as her assailant/s tore the blankets off of her, but when they grabbed the front of her shirt she bucked hard, nearly dumping the one on top of her to the ground. He cursed as he hit his head on the bunk above them, and then punched her hard in the face. Bette's eyes darkened for a moment, her head ringing from the blow.

"You almost hit my hand!" The two men seemed to be arguing, but she barely paid attention. Live. Survive. SURVIVE. Her hand under the pillow grabbed the slim, hard handle hidden there, and she yanked it out, thumbing the blade release as she slashed at the pilot who was pulling her shirt up.

She caught him across the shoulder and he yelled out, recoiling almost immediately as her switchblade sliced through deltoid muscle and part of his left hand. Bette bucked hard, again, and he tumbled to the decking as she rolled and stabbed at the second attacker. He shrieked and her knife was ripped from her hand, and the lights came on and men started shouting at each other. Bette's eyes welled up at the sudden brightness, the left side of her face swelling and painful, but she could see that her blade had gone into the man's eye at an angle and stuck into bone.

Mitchell appeared, punching the less grievously wounded pilot to the deck as he tried to scramble to his feet. Bette managed to yank her shirt back down, and then she stumbled from her bunk and the blankets on the floor and her screaming fellow cabbie who was trying to pull the knife out of his eye even as others restrained him, and she made it to the refresher and locked herself into a stall.

She stared at her hands. The left was trembling a little, but she took a few deep breaths and calmed herself as much as she could. As the only woman on a ship full of men, as far as she knew, she wasn't shocked, from a logical point of view, that an attack had occurred.

Bette stared at her hands. She was actually surprised it hadn't happened sooner, as some sort of sick dominance/hazing ritual. That was the whole reason for the knife under her pillow. She didn't trust any of these men, and they didn't trust that she could do their jobs as good, or even better than they could. Her very existence threatened and angered them. Every perceived concession that was made on her behalf was an affront to decades of military tradition.

She was still locked in the stall when the stormtroopers arrived to escort her to the captain's office at 06:00.

[Bette Davis]

She'd been allowed to dress in her uniform, the grey wool itching at her neck and wrists, and was unceremoniously shown into Captain Wygraant's office. Bette stood uncomfortably at attention as the troopers exited, and realized that Commander Keene was in the room as well. He had an unpleasant expression on his face.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Service in Death Squadron was the pinnacle of Imperial prestige. Assigned to Darth Vader's personal battle fleet, each ship selected displayed espirit de corps unrivaled by any others in the galaxy. It was a posting taken with great pride, but equally great were the expectations and responsibility. Failure was never an option to the Dark Lord of the Sith. The culture of the squadron ran from Vader down to every of the near quarter million souls under his command, and Captain Rolth Wygraant was no exception to demanding the best of his men.

And his women, it now seemed.

The stormtroopers delivered Ensign Davis to his office, and were dismissed with a glance. For the moment, Captain Wygraant sat as if the Ensign were not in the room at all, simply browsing the incident report on his desk with an even disposition on his expression. After nearly a minute, he concluded his browsing of the recounted brawl on his ship. Brawl was a polite word. Savage mauling. On a ship in Lord Vader's service. Unacceptable.

"I thought I recognized your name, Ensign. Charles' daughter, I presume?"

[Bette Davis]

She stared straight ahead at a point on the bulkhead behind the Captain. "Sir. Yes sir." Suddenly Bette was drawing connections between the Rolth in her father's navy stories to the stern looking man sitting in front of her in judgement. Her jaw tightened. Was she going to be thrown out of the navy? It wasn't my fault, she wanted to say, but instead she kept her mouth shut, waiting for Captain Wygraant to speak again.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Under normal circumstances away from the bridge, Captain Wygraant dispensed with the ritual of standing to attention once introductions had been broached. The nature of the reason that had brought Bette Davis to him, however, compelled him to leave her firmly nailed to the deck by her boots - a physical reminder of the grave state of things she now found herself in.

"Good man, Charles. Reliable to a fault in grim days back on Rampart."

Captain Wygraant's expression waxed cordial for but a moment.

"Ensign, I've read this report and I'm ready to make my ruling. Before I do, I'd like your input on this incident, off the record."

By Gods, off the record the Captain's expression darkened somewhat. The less this ugliness had to spend in the light, the better.

[Bette Davis]

The incident. Bette had no illusions that stabbing a fellow pilot in the eye, even if it had been mostly by accident, was going to reflect well on her service record. "Sir. I was asleep in my rack. I woke up to find... I - I don't even know who it was," she faltered, but gathered herself quickly. "He was...on top of me."

She stared laser beams into the bulkhead, a muscle in her jaw jumping. Her face still hurt from where he'd punched her, and while she could still see out of that eye she knew it was swollen and bruised. "I defended myself, sir. There were two of them." Bette's eyes dropped slightly, and she saw her switchblade on the captain's desk. "I keep a knife in my rack for protection. I used it." She lifted her chin, eyes returning to the spot on the wall.

[Rolth Wygraant]

"You certainly did, Ensign."

A chilly expression crossed the Captain's features as he glanced to the weapon. He'd seen the grim results of her handiwork. The eye could be replaced by prosthetic, but the aptitude requirements for Shadow Squadron were lofty. A talented pilot's career wasted. A promising career of a good friend's daughter in jeopardy. Shambles the lot of it.

"We're en route to escort an extremely important oversector governor, Ensign Davis. Lord Vader's eyes are cast over every shoulder in this fleet. I intend to settle this matter here and now."

Steel punctuated Wygraant's sentence as he levied severe eyes on the roughed up pilot.

"I see nothing in this incident report to bring courts martial upon you."

Tapping the datapad for emphasis, the Captain let it fall from his hands, clattering on the desk next to the knife. He leaned back in his seat, tapping at his temple with a thoughtful gloved hand.

"I see it as you see it. This is a matter of self defense. Your means of defending yourself are perhaps beyond the pale, and I will certainly be confiscating non-regulation weapons from flight crews from this moment forth. But I see nothing here to cause me to strip you from service."

[Bette Davis]

At the mention of Lord Vader, Bette stiffened even more. But then she couldn't help herself. "Nothing to strip me from - what about them? ...Sir," she added belatedly.

Commander Keene spoke from behind her. "Watch your tongue, Ensign. One of the pilots you attacked will never fly again. Sure, you could press charges, try to spin your version of events...but you'd ride a desk for the rest of your career. With no proof of an assault -"

"Only because I fought back," she interrupted.

[Rolth Wygraant]

A raised hand from Wygraant put an end to Keene's commentary. It wasn't particularly helpful in the present situation.

"Commander, I want both pilots demoted and drummed out of the squadron. I have high standards for my pilots' conduct. They're an outward demonstration of our force capacity, and I won't have them sully this ship or this service in a cockpit."

It went far short of the mark that Ensign Davis wished, but there were surprising limits to the extent of a Captain's authority within the Imperial Navy. And sadly, what Commander Keene said was true. If she petitioned a Judge Advocate General to hear a grievance, then her career would summarily become radioactive.

[Bette Davis]

"As you say, Captain." Keene sounded properly respectful again, probably sucking in his gut as he saluted. Bette's back was beginning to hurt from being so rigidly at attention.

She looked at Captain Wygraant. "I- I don't wish to press charges, sir. All I want to do is fly."

[Rolth Wygraant]

Captain Wygraant's eyes read into Bette's thoughtfully. She wanted more, and she damn-well deserved more, but they were operating in the absurdity of reality. If only she were a man. It would make sorting this mess out so much simpler. Likely preventing the whole mess to begin with.

"That's good, Ensign. I'd like to keep my pilots flying if it's all the same to you."

Lacing his fingers together in front of him on the desk, the Captain pressed on.

"Is there anything else you wish to address before I close this matter and put it behind us?"

[Bette Davis]

"No sir." Bette pressed her lips into a firm line, staring straight ahead again. A thought struck her, and she added, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell my father about this, sir." Sir Charles may not have been accepting her calls, but she had a feeling her father was still watching her career with interest. At least, she hoped so. Her success or failure in the navy was going to reflect on the family name, and she desperately wanted him to approve of her career choice.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Rolth considered the hypothetical, broaching the matter at the Regent's Club on Chandrila, no doubt at a Life Day gala. How bloody awkward. A twitched frown dispelled the notion at once.

"I have no intention of it, Ensign. You're an adult. I'm here to treat you as such, and in turn, you're expected to act the part. So long as the buck stops here, as it were. I think we can all agree to that."

The Captain switched the datapad off, setting it to the side of his desk along with the offending knife.

"Now, if that matter is settled, I want you on two day's leave to get your mind right. You look a fright, and I won't have you flying until you remedy that. Is that clear?"

[Bette Davis]

"Sir, yes sir. But -" Bette snapped her mouth shut, too late to stop her protest from emerging. She soldiered on. "My flight today, sir. I am perfectly capable of flying the Moff from Ord Cantrell. I...I don't want this incident," the word was like ashes in her mouth, "to keep me from my duty. I can have a OneBee fix my face up in fifteen minutes. Sir."

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Balderdash!" Wygraant cut off the Ensign's protests sharply, as he fixed to the spot she stood with a steely look.

"This isn't some forlorn convoy of scows hauling Mustafarian muck, Ensign. This is Death Squadron. We have standards here. Decency! Which, I'll remind you Miss Davis, you have found yourself upon the most perilous threshold. You want to fly? Splendid. But you'll do so when I say you do, and I'll damned sure say how high you go!"

Leaning back in his seat from the heated broadside, he again affixed the Ensign with a hard eye.

"Two days. If I don't find a pilot in my ready room with a stiff upper lip about her, you can rest assured I'll throw her to the bottom of the rotation and she'll stay there. Am I clear?"

[Bette Davis]

"Sir, yes sir! Thank you sir." Bette zipped her lip and stood at attention until the captain finally dismissed her. Out in the passageway she exhaled a shaky breath; the stormtroopers who'd escorted her were long gone and the hall was empty. She felt how close she'd come to losing her wings, felt it right in her heart, and aside from the injustice of the entire situation that was what scared her the most.

"Don't be loitering in the passages, Ensign." Commander Keene exited the office behind her, and she straightened immediately. "Get yourself checked out at the medbay." He walked up behind her, so close she could almost sense his bulk closing in, the electric and terrifying nearness of it, and then he brushed past her. She closed her eyes, counted to five, and then opened them and hurried to the nearest turbolift.

The rest of the day was a blur of bacta salve and uncomfortable silences. The barracks were quite obviously divided on the subject of her assault, and she found that Mitchell had taken it upon himself to move himself and a few other friendly pilots into the nearby racks. A squad of troopers had turned the place upside down while she'd been in the medical bay, looking for non-regulation weapons. Ensign Stig had lost an heirloom pocket knife he'd had stashed in his personal effects, and he was not happy about it. He stopped short of blaming Bette, but she felt eyes on her more often than not.

After a restless night of listening to the other shuttle pilots snore, she headed to the sim room. There was nothing else to do, and even if it wasn't real ...it was real enough.

[Bette Davis]

There were already some sim pods in use. A few loners scattered here and there throughout the cavernous room, a group of three janking about together in a corner, and in the center, three cubicles nearly full of active pods. Bette counted twelve total - an entire squadron no doubt practicing maneuvers. She eyeballed the group as she found an empty pod in the outer ring of cubicles, flipping through sim options. Val Torre's words came back to her. Sometimes I jump into running sims.

She looked up, jammed her helmet on, and selected an active sim, one with twelve participants in it already. She narrowed her eyes as she pulled her flight gloves tight, and then got into the pod. It closed around her, darkness filling the inside for a moment until everything lit up, console bright with options. Might as well see how the other half lived.

[Bette Davis]

The controls illuminated differently, console moving into a slightly different configuration as she waited for the sim to spool up. She knew how to fly an X-Wing, of course, but she'd only done enough sim work with the ship in the Academy to be proficient, putting all her hours toward TIE training. For all the good it had done her. Bette jammed her finger on the communications toggle, making sure her mic was muted as the screen lit up with stars and the comms lit up with chatter. There were the twelve participants, blips on the Imperial side of the sim, so she unmuted her comms so she could communicate with her simulated wingmates.

[Bette Davis]

"Look sharp Blue Ten, our orders are to take out that interdictor. Gold and Rogue squadrons are engaging the TIE squadrons and trying to keep the ISD off of our capital ships. We need to destroy that gravity well so we can make our escape, before there's nothing left to save." The grizzled voice on the comms reminded Bette of her grandfather for some reason.

"Roger that Blue Lead," she said absently, scanning over the console in front of her and testing out the flight rudders. "Blue Ten standing by."

"Blue Nine standing by," came another voice, younger, also male. The voice actors were familiar to Bette, recycled often through the various scenarios and used on both sides of the simulation. "Following your lead, Ten."

"Let's go get that Interdictor then, Nine," she said, directing her X-Wing to the side of the existing dogfight, the rest of Blue Squadron flying around her, S-foils locked in attack formation. Oh right. She toggled the switch, and her X-Wing followed suit.

The Rebel fleet in this sim consisted of a Quasar Fire bulk carrier, an MC-75, a pair of CR90's - Alderaan's Gambit, Phantom, Burner and the Princess, respectively. "Who names these things?" she murmured, following Blue Leader's directions and splitting off with her wingmate to try to get in close to the Interdictor while Burner and Princess provided cover fire.

[Bette Davis]

listen (https://open.spotify.com/track/5SjuRKUOosYTOvSMGwpd7T)

The X-Wings didn't scream through space like a TIE, but they weren't as fast, either, which Bette had to compensate for as she flew. The controls felt almost sluggish as she juked through the battlefield, Blue 9 aft and starboard, sticking to her like they'd always flown together. The ongoing dogfight between the two sets of capital ships loomed in her viewscreen, and then dipped away to port as Blue Squadron zeroed in on the Interdictor. Her HUD highlighted the ship and the name filled in: Uncle Fred. Bette nearly laughed, but her sensors warned of incoming and she had to pull up hard as a drifting bit of TIE wing panel came across her flight path.

"Steady as you go, Blue Ten," came the reassuring voice of Blue Leader. "We've got company. Squadron flying to intercept!"

A group of TIE Advanced were splitting off from the main battle as the Rebels plan became clear to the Imperial commanders, and Bette urged more speed from her fighter. If they could reach the Interdictor first, things would be a lot easier. The KX9 laser cannons on each of her X-Wing's four wingtips shot out green lasers as the TIEs flew through their formation like the two squadrons were parade horses, Blue Leader barking orders as remarkably all survived the first encounter. Half of Blue split to the right, looping around and back, while Bette continued straight for the Interdictor where she had turbolaser batteries to worry about.

The TIE squadron flew up and over, screaming back down at the scattering Rebels as the fighters separated into wing units and began their deadly chase.

[Bette Davis]

The T-65 X-Wing starfighter came equipped with two MG7 proton torpedo launchers, loaded with three torpedoes each. The launcher’s sophisticated targeting system was accurate to within three meters at distances of up to half a kilometer.

Bette could almost feel the TIE Advanced coming up behind her as she and her wingman pulled toward the Interdictor. Sensors indicated that there was a pair of them zeroing in on her and if it came to a straight up race the TIEs would win every time.

”Follow me,” she said to Blue Nine, and her wingman clicked his comm in reply. Bette pulled hard on the yoke, her feet working the rudders to fly straight up pos-Y-axis. The X-wing shuddered underneath her as it struggled to pull the maneuver, and Blue Nine fell out of formation a bit as he tried to follow.

Caught by surprise the TIEs had to loop around neg-X to alter their trajectory to match, while Bette accelerated as much as she could straight up ‘above’ the battlefield.

“Blue Ten get back here!” growled Blue Leader in her headset. “The objective has not changed!”

“Copy that, Lead,” she grinned. “Don’t worry, we’re coming back.”

On her HUD she could see the squadron of TIE Advanced were doing a great job separating and picking off the Blues using their superior speed and maneuverability. The two following her and her wingmate were already closing the gap.

”What’s the plan?” asked Blue Nine. “Are we abandoning the fight?”

“No, you moron.” Bette eyed her HUD. “Hard turn neg-X to neg-Z ..now!”

Simulated G-forces pressed her into her seat as she pushed the X-Wing to the edge of its capabilities, turning her climb into a dive and blowing past the safety limits of the inertial dampers. Bette gritted her teeth as the starfighter flipped sideways, the axis markers on her yoke spinning for a minute until pos-Z lined up with the nose once more.

The Uncle Fred lay directly ‘below’, its topside laid out in front of her.

Bette tightened her finger on the triggers for her quad-lasers, blat-blatting green death toward the TIEs which were now peeling off to avoid playing chicken with her.

She whooped, flipping up the guard on the proton launcher as the Interdictor loomed larger and larger before her.

“Torpedoes away,” she sang out over the comm, Blue Nine following suit as they emptied their launchers into the Interdictor.

[Bette Davis]

Secondary explosions rocked the Interdictor, and Bette pulled up pos-Y to fly over the top of the silent blooms of fire.

"Excellent work, Blue Ten! All squadrons return to Alderaan's Gambit, let's get her clear and out of here." Blue Leader was still around, apparently, and Bette realized why he sounded familiar. A popular kid's show from her childhood had had a grouchy lothcat as a main character, and it was the same voice actor. Now she couldn't stop picturing Blue Leader as a lothcat in a helmet.

She clicked her comm. "Copy that. Blue Ten and Nine heading - shit!"

Blue Nine exploded to starboard, and her astromech screamed at her about a positive weapons lock. Bette looped sideways pos-X to distance herself from the wreckage of her wingmate, the two TIE Advanced still on her tail.

"Be quiet!" she shouted at the droid. On her HUD she could see the Rebels were hightailing it out of the system, hanging around just long enough to gather in their starfighters. One of the CR-90s, the Princess, was adrift, its engines totally blown out, and the other was still taking heavy fire as it tried to cover for the bulk carrier. Still, the sim had definitely turned in favor of the Rebels and the majority of them were going to leave.

Just maybe not her.

Bette knew she didn't have the speed to save herself, so arrowed her X-Wing toward the still blazing wreckage of the Interdictor. Knifing through the largest section even as it was still breaking apart, she knocked off one of her laser cannons from an S-foil as she squeezed through at top speed.

As soon as she'd broken line of sight and was amidst the carnage that had been the Interdictor she cut engines and was slammed forward into her crash webbing. Bette pulled on the yoke and flipped the X-Wing, hanging out with the Interdictor to her belly once more.

The TIEs followed her through the wreckage, passing right in front of her, and she opened fire as she accelerated after them. Bette caught one completely unaware, her three remaining quad-lasers spitting green death at them, while the other juked and spiraled as it tried to get away.

[Bette Davis]

Bette flew straight through the wreckage of one TIE in her chase after the other, some of the debris hitting her X-Wing. She knew she was in the endgame of the sim and was determined to take down at least one more opponent before it wrapped up.

The TIE Advanced were prototypes that weren’t actually in use in the fleet, at least, not as far as Bette was aware. They were a bitch to chase down in an X-Wing, she was finding out. The astromech was bleeping out something, but she ignored it, putting the fighter into full acceleration as the TIE juked pos-Y to neg-X-Z trying to spiral 180 degrees away.

Her X-Wing shuddered as she followed her opponent’s maneuvers, and she was suddenly slammed into her seat as the g-forces increased during the turn. Bette spared one eye for the technical readout on her screen as she liberally applied her quad-lasers toward the rear end of the TIE.

- - - inertial dampeners failing - - - failure immenient - - -

“Oh frack you,” she gritted out, nosediving neg-Y. Just a little further... Her vision was starting to grey out from the increasing gravities, but she knew the sim wasn’t going to kill her. She could push a little harder.

The TIE pulled a spectacular maneuver, flying pos-Y-X to juke around the debris from the Interdictor. Bette lost him for the moment, but knew he’d come back around to try to catch her from behind.

She poured her power into reverse thrusters, her body thrown forward in her crashwebbing as the X-Wing abruptly halted, and dragged the nosecone up and over as her brain and vision got fuzzy. Bette tasted blood as she fired everything she had at the spot where the TIE would -














...

[Bette Davis]

“Fuck me, you got toasted by a female, Xilarian!”

Bette opened her eyes to find her sim pod cracked open and a small crowd outside of it. She tasted blood on her lips and touched her nose to find that it was bleeding.

Her head was pounding as she shakily extricated herself from the crashwebbing without looking at any of the faces outside the pod. Think, Davis, think. She’d never blacked out in a sim before - well, not since the Academy had forced everyone to endure increasing g-forces until unconsciousness as part of their training.

Apologetic or cocky?

Always go with cocky.

Bette pulled off her helmet and tossed it into the sim behind her as she climbed out, boldly meeting the gaze of the male pilots gathered around. One, a tall man with curly blond hair, had his arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern look on his face, while the others mainly looked curious or amused.

”What exactly were you doing, crashing our training exercise Ensign...Davis?”

She caught sight of the insignia on his flightsuit and inwardly cringed. Commander. And a Lieutenant Commander right next to him, along with a couple lieutenants...including Lieutenant Torres. She stood at attention.

”Sometimes I just jump into a running sim, sir. Helps me stay sharp.” Why the fuck did I just say that?!

Val Torres winked at her. She refused to look at him.

”You what? What exactly do you have to stay sharp for, cabbie?” Commander Xilarian’s eyes bored into her like two diamond drills.

”You never know,” Bette said. “Sir.”

”Oh come on Xilarian, you’re just pissed she managed to take you out right at the end.” Flight Commander Perris slapped Xilarian on the back, but the officer still didn’t smile.

”She broke the simulation,” he groused.

”...by being too good?”

Bette didn’t need to look at him to know it was Val again. She could feel her cheeks coloring as she stood stiffly beside the sim pod.

”Sir. May I go now, sir?”

”Get out of here, Ensign. And don’t jump into anymore running sims if you know what’s good for you.”

She didn’t need telling twice. Nose still bloody, she turned and walked out of the simulation room even though she would have preferred to run.

[Bette Davis]

****

"Hey, wait up. Hey!"

Bette paused for a moment in the passage, and looked over her shoulder to see Ensign Mitchell jogging up to her. Facing front she chewed her lip, and then stopped walking to let him catch up.

"Heard you ferried the Moff yesterday, Mitchell." She folded her arms across her chest. "No problems during transit?"

"What? No, it was fine." Mitchell looked a bit taken aback. "Look I know that was your flight but Commander Keene switched the -"

Bette shook her head. "It's not a problem. I've got one more day cooling my heels and then I'll be back on the rotation."

"Of course." He looked down at her, and tilted his head to the side like a puppy. "Does it hurt? Your eye."

Mitchell didn't reach for her face or even move, but she took a step back. He immediately looked apologetic, but she spoke before he could open his mouth again.

"It's fine. Bacta took care of the swelling and the bruising should be gone soon." Bette scrubbed a hand over her close-cropped hair, nails scratching her scalp. It had grown out a bit from her Academy shave, but she'd left it short on the sides while keeping the length on top.

"You been flying the sims?" He gestured with his head down the passage the way she'd come, a smile on his face. A nice, sweet smile.

"Yeah. Look, Mitchell..." Just tear it off, like a bandaid. She closed her eyes for a moment. "You're a nice guy. I appreciate you looking out for me. But if there's even a suggestion to the brass that anyone is out here holding my hand and helping me get by out here, I might as well slit my own throat.

"So, I want to be friends, but I need you to know that not only do I not want any special treatment I can't even appear to get any." She did not smile.

His eyes widened, and as they started to narrow and his mouth opened for some kind of response Bette turned and walked away.

[Bette Davis]

The next day she arrived twenty minutes early to her meeting with Captain Wygraant. Commander Keene was not present yet, or perhaps he was already inside the office. There were no stormtroopers this time, and the mild looking clerk in the antechamber with her barely glanced up when she entered before returning to his console.

She waited, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her as the time slowly passed. After two days of worrying about her career being over, or ruining her family name and disappointing her father, or all of the above, Bette found that her mind was blank.

She stared at her close cropped fingernails and picked at a little bit of callused skin. Lotion. She needed to use it more.

Bette closed her eyes and didn't open them again until the clerk told her she could go in and see the captain.

[Bette Davis]

****

The next weeks crawled by. Bette had been reinstated to the shuttle pool with no fanfare, and continued to pull flights. Captain Wygraant had barely looked at her when he’d informed her that there would be no black marks on her record this time, and then approved her return from involuntary leave.

No repercussions....this time.

Instead of retreating into a shell or avoiding eye contact, Bette continued to walk the Annihilator with her head held high. She usually ate in the mess with Mitchell and a few other cabbies - her talk with him had cooled their relationship somewhat, but he was still polite.

At least he wasn’t one of the ones who would say “bitch” when she left a room, just loudly enough for her to hear it. Bette never felt relaxed anymore, and it was starting to wear on her.

Things had settled into a routine, and so she was surprised when Commander Keene intercepted her on the way to the mess hall one day.

”You’ve got a new assignment, Ensign.” He held up a hand to forestall any of her questions. “Report to shuttle bay two. There’s an unscheduled departure that can’t wait for tomorrow,” his tone indicated just what he thought about that, “and you won’t be back for a few days. Grab a kit and get down there.”

”Yes sir,” said Bette, saluting.

Keene narrowed his eyes at her, then shook his head and walked into the mess. She turned on her heel and jogged back down the passage, stopping at the barracks just long enough to grab her kit.

Shuttle bay two was empty except for a Lambda-class shuttle and a few techs. Bette hesitated for a moment, and then shouldered her kit and walked right for the shuttle.

[Silus Xilarian]

The lights of the ISD Annihilator were especially harsh as Silus made his way down the hallway. Even with his head down and his hand over his forehead he couldn’t shake the feeling that if his pupils were to contract anymore his eyes would probably pop right out. Veisalgia, the little droid in the medbay had called it, commonly referred to as a hangover. There was no magical medicine, apparently, just fluids and maybe caffeine. There was also sleep, but he didn’t have time for that. There was a ship sitting in shuttle bay two with his name on it and the amount of crap that would get hurled at him for being late was certain to irritate his condition even further.

As he neared the shuttle bay, he spotted a short haired woman carrying a bag over her shoulder.

“You…uh…seriously…uggghhhh hold on…” He called out to the woman, before losing the ability to focus his eyes. He took a second to clamp his eyes shut and rubbed his temples with his free hand before dropping his bag on the floor in front of her. He opened his eyes and grit his teeth a bit as he squinted at her rank plate.

“Uhh, Ensign… whatever, take my bag to shuttle bay two…” She began to say something and Silus put a hand up to stop her before she could form the first syllable.

“Direct order”

With that, he lumbered off slowly, heading toward the refresher.

[Bette Davis]

Bette moved her foot just in time to avoid the bag that was dropped to the deck as the curly haired man moved past her and into the shuttle. It was Commander Xilarian, thought he looked a lot rougher than he had weeks ago in the sim room.

After a moment, when it became apparent that he was serious about her carrying his kit, she rolled her eyes and picked it up. Xilarian was the commander of Storm Squadron, at least from what she’d learned when she’d asked around after the encounter in the sims. He was known as a fuck up who’d probably sucked some captain off in order to keep his rank - good in the sims but not great out in the black where it really mattered.

And, apparently, he was also a douchebag.

Bette tossed his bag into one of the shuttle’s trooper jump seats before walking past the locked refresher, through the center section and into the cockpit. She couldn’t imagine why he needed a ride off the Annihilator, unless he was finally being transferred. Usually that would mean a standard troop transport, though, not a private shuttle flight.

Hell, she still couldn’t figure out why a pilot from Onyx Squadron had been slumming with him in the sims in the first place. Not that it was any of her business, Bette reminded herself, checking for a flight plan in the console.

There was nothing.

The refresher door opened and Bette turned in the pilot’s seat to face the back and her unkempt passenger.

“Can you tell me where I’m supposed to be flying? Sir,” she added belatedly.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus walked out of the refresher, slightly less bleary eyed after dunking his face in the sink. He plopped down behind Bette as she turned to ask where they were flying to.

"Shit, sorry, uh dismissed. I just meant for you to bring my bag in here. I'm actually waiting for my copilot to show up."

Silus brushed away a bit of sink water that was still dripping from his brow and noticed that she wasn't leaving.

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell your CO that you performed your task with expediency and enthusiasm"

[Bette Davis]

Bette gave him a flat stare, staying put in the pilot seat.

”I am your pilot.” She resisted folding her arms, just barely. “Commander Keene sent me.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus suppressed a slight belch before he spoke and twisted his jaw a bit as the taste of whiskey hit the back of his mouth.

"Keene...yeah. Ok, so you're Ensign Davis then. Weird."

Silus pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and squinted at it for a second.

"Well I guess we're good to go then. Just take us out and get us in the black, literally any direction is fine, I really don't care. Just don't crash into anything. And if you get any transmissions from someone named Nelaa Kyris, just do what they say. I'm going to go back here and see if I can figure out what's wrong with this bunk..."

[Bette Davis]

“Yessir.”

Bette narrowed her eyes at Xilarian’s back, swiveling slowly back to her console. Fly out in any direction? She toggled the comm after completing her preflight checks.

”Annihilator this is Lambda-Omega-Five requesting permission to launch from bay two. Heading...0.4.8.8.2.4.Z.” She pulled a trajectory at random, not expecting to get clearance.

When it came through a moment later, she raised her eyebrows but acknowledged and fired up the repulsors. Guiding the shuttle through the wide opening for the bay was a piece of cake, and once outside she engaged the sublights on the declared heading.

Approximately four minutes later, watching the pie-shaped Annihilator shrink in the distance, the console lit up, indicating an incoming transmission.

Text only. From a Nelaa Kyris.

Upon opening it she found hyperspace coordinates and a security authentication high enough that she plugged them into the navicomp without protest.

“Here goes nothing.” Bette pulled the hyperspace lever, and the shuttle smoothly transitioned.

[Silus Xilarian]

They were in hyperspace when Silus woke from his nap. His head still felt a size too small but for the most part his hangover was starting to subside. He rolled over and let his legs kind of lazily fall off the cot as he turned to sit up. A quick glance at the chrono on the wall revealed that he’d been asleep for about 4 hours. He slowly got up, stretching the stiffness out of his joints as he made his way to the front of the shuttle.
He found Bette in the pilot seat and dropped down in the co-pilot chair beside her with a thud. In his hand was a large datapad.

“Ok, let’s see here. Ensign Elizabeth Anabella Davis. Goes by Bette. Blah blah blah…”

He swiped through the screens quickly, as if he were looking for something specific.

“…here we go, let’s see. Cleared for flight classes A-F. Basic psyche eval…those are always fun…let’s see, flight scores, flight scores. I don’t see anything here on advanced hand to hand combat. That’s probably not optimal…”

He continued swiping screens for another minute or so until he hit the end of Bette’s file. A prompt came up on the screen and he angled the datapad slightly upward, letting it complete a quick retina scan. A few seconds later a screen came up with the word “CLASSIFIED” in big angry letters at the top, followed by a huge wall of text.

“Ok, here we go. Ensign Davis, you’ve been selected for a mission designated as classified under Imperial code 53748. All details of this mission are considered code 6A-246 classified. If you reveal any details of this mission to any person without verifying 6A-246 compartmented clearance you will be subject to discipline as outlined in Imperial code 53748 subsection 47. Per Imperial code 53748 code subsection 2 you are afforded the right to refuse this mission. If you do not wish to receive compartmented clearance code 6A-246 access, please report to Commander Keene on the ISD Annihilator…”

Silus paused for a moment and scratched his head.

“Huh, I was probably supposed to read that before we left…Let’s see, failure to report to Commander Keene within…..oh yeah, I was supposed to read this before we got on the shuttle…”

[Bette Davis]

Bette had spent a very long four hours on the cockpit waiting for the commander to wake up. Regulations stated that one pilot had to be seated at the console at all times, so usually a long flight like this one would have two pilots assigned.

Which, in a way, it did. Just one of them had spent the first four hours sleeping in the passenger compartment.

When Xilarian returned to the cockpit, used her middle name and started rattling off codes and clearance numbers, her mouth dropped open.

“Excuse me, what?”

Bette got to her feet, trying to get the blood flowing to her lower extremities after sitting for too long. She walked to the back of the cockpit, took a breath, and then turned and faced Commander Xilarian who still looked a little hungover.

”I’ll do it. Classified mission? Sure.” Bette threw her hands up. “Why not?”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus started to speak, then paused and gave Bette a measured stare. His expression softened a bit.

"Ok look I'm gonna level with ya. I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with, and this is a lot to take in all at once. This is the game though. Even if it's not what you expected, this is it, this isn't a sim, and they wouldn't have selected you if you weren't ready."

He turned his chair back toward the console before speaking over his shoulder.

"I'll take over up here for a bit, head on back and take a break. Once you're clear eyed we'll sit down and go over the mission details.” He half turned and looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with her. “Deal?"

[Bette Davis]

She nodded, frowning slightly before turning back into the passenger compartment.

Despite the Lambda‘s ability to transport up to twenty people, there were only a couple actual bunks. Bette picked the one that wasn’t rumpled and smelling slightly of whiskey, and ducked into it with her boots on.

Hand-picked for a classified mission? Bette punched the pillow up and laid down on top of the blankets. She wouldn’t be a pilot worth her salt if she couldn’t fall asleep anywhere at nearly any time, and this was no exception. She set her chrono for an hour and a half, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, emptying her mind.

An hour and forty minutes later Bette walked back into the cockpit. She sat in the pilot’s seat, arms crossed, and stared at Commander Xilarian.

“Clearance code 6A-246. It sounds impressive. What exactly is this mission that I’ve been signed up for?”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus finished stuffing a handful of rations in his mouth as Bette sat down beside him. He chewed for a moment then plopped the datapad over in her. He swallowed the food in his mouth and took a quick gulp of water.

"No clue, your clearance just went through though, so knock yourself out."

Silus went back to his food. As Bette swiped through the datapad, she quickly found screen after screen of redacted information. She looked over toward Silus with a confused look.

"You get used to that. Basically means we'll find out when we get there. I'm not supposed to share my mission briefing with you cause some rule, who knows, but honestly it wouldn't be that helpful. All I really know is that combat is supposed to be a last resort. Don't get too excited, sometimes these missions are to get a high ranking officer onto a planet quietly so the person they're replacing doesn't find out or something boring like that."

He met the disappointment on Bette's face with a grin.

"Could be fun though. When they know anything they say to us is compartmented info you sometimes get to hear some juicy shit."

[Bette Davis]

Bette scrolled to the end of the brief just to make sure she wasn't missing an unredacted word somewhere, and then flipped it onto the console. "So this is useless."

She eyeballed the commander, not quite understanding how a pilot who failed up was running some sort of clandestine mission. Not running. He said he was pretty much in the dark as well.

Whatever it was, the situation was not inspiring confidence. Maybe they were just the two most expendable pilots on the Annihilator.

With that comforting thought, the remainder of the trip passed in awkward silence. The shuttle reverted to realspace somewhere in the Core - from the coordinates Bette guessed they were near the Duro system.

A large freighter hung in the black nearby, and Bette flew toward it, entering the bay as directed.

”This is pretty much the definition of sketchy,” she said, to no one in particular.

[Silus Xilarian]

"At least it's not the definition of boring..."

Silus unbuckled his harness as the shuttle settled into the bay. Both pilots were up and out of their seats at the same time and heading to grab their stuff. Silus called to Bette from across the shuttle.

"Don't bring anything you don't need, stow whatever you don't take in your locker and it'll be waiting on you when the mission's over." He paused for a second. "But don't leave anything you'd be worried about losing..."

Silus grabbed a coat and a few small effects out of his bag as Bette did the same. If she was nervous - and he was sure she was - she was doing a good job of hiding it. Nevertheless, before he hit the button to open the door, he nudged Bette with his elbow and held a small metal flask in her direction.

"Knock the edge off?"

[Bette Davis]

She stared at him like he’d grown another head.

“We’re in the middle of a mission.”

Bette pushed the flask away as the shuttle opened, slightly rattled out of her carefully cultivated calm by his offer. She strode out of the shuttle slightly ahead of Xilarian, then had to pause for him to catch up.

A man in Imperial grey and no rank insignia was waiting for them in the cavernous cargo bay. Bette stood at ease, looking around for any clues as to what the mission might actually be. Her brain was starting to scream at her that she should have found a way to refuse this.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus shrugged and took a quick swig off the flask before tucking it back into his coat. The man waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp was an obvious lackey. Though Bette arrived more promptly, the man barely acknowledged her and waited for Silus to catch up before addressing them.

"Commander Xilarian, Ensign Davis."

Silus rolled his eyes at the man. Good imperial agents were less responsive to rank and more to character. This guy would be greeting people at the bottom of shuttle ramps for the rest of his career.

"Yeah whatever, is that my envelope?" He gestured toward the large envelope in the agent's hand and snatched it away as it was handed to him. "Where's Kyris at, what are we doing here."

The man gave a curt nod, and turned on his heel before he began speaking. Silus nudged Bette with his elbow, meeting her attention with a smirk and a glance toward the imperial agent, along with a hand gesture that was...rude.

"Agent Kyris is on mission right now, a datapad with the mission details is in that envelope. It won't authenticate until you're off this ship."

Silus grinned wide and spoke at the man's back.

"I guess Davis and I are the only one's with a high enough clearance to know what's going on."

[Bette Davis]

She knew her face was starting to betray her anxiety, her eyes flicked around a bit too quickly, her breath a little too sharp.

Timid or cocky?

Always go with cocky.

Bette met Xilarian’s eyes and forced a grin, trying to match his smirk. She tried to think of a smart quip, but her brain was still in survival mode.

The Imperial agent, for he must be part of ImpIntel what with all this secrecy and mission redaction and security clearances, clucked his tongue but said nothing as he led them into the main part of the freighter.

”Strap in. We will be jumping to hyperspace in a few moments, then you’ll be at your destination. Fifteen minutes.”

Bette followed Xilarian’s lead and sat down what appeared to be a passenger area, fastening the seatbelt. The agent sniffed and walked out, and she could feel the hyperdrive spooling up through the vibrations in the deck.

She looked Xilarian in the eye and then meaningfully down at the envelope.

“This is actually a lot like jumping into a running sim,” Bette mused. “I have no idea what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.”

[Silus Xilarian]

"That's good. As soon as you know what's goin on, you stop trying to figure out what's goin on..."

Silus opened the envelope and pulled out the datapad, dropping the rest of the items on the floor. As soon as the ship lurched into hyperspace the screen lit up and Silus began reading the information out loud.

"Agents, I hope this mes...blah blah formalities....Mission will take place on the planet Duro, ok figured that out...." Silus furrowed his brow a bit. "The hell is this? Rank redacted, name redacted has approached rebellion operations on the planet and has offered to defect. You will pose as rebel pilots and escort redacted off the planet. You will have redacted complete a hyperspace jump with the coordinates provided on the dataslip in your mission kit. At those coordinates redacted will be intercepted by the ISD Relentless."

Silus looked at Bette with a puzzled expression on his face then went back to reading.

"Alright let's see, at the coordinates provided, you will meet an agent of the rebellion. The callsign we intercepted is 'Tyranny' and the countersign is 'Perseverance'. Blah blah blah... Local imperial authorities are not aware of this mission and may treat you as hostile. That's interesting...In that respect, oh son of a bitch!"

Silus shoved the datapad over to Bette. He jumped up and bounded over to the lockers on the side of the ship. Upon opening the locker he found a blaster in a holster hanging off a hook at the top. He tossed it over to Bette.

"Non lethal weapons, just in case we get tangled up with locals... At least they left us some clothes. The only thing worse than strutting up to a rebel base with a stun pistol is doing it with a rank plate on."

[Bette Davis]

“That does sound ...less than ideal.”

Bette released her seatbelt and stood, reluctantly following Xilarian to the lockers. She opened the one next to him and found an outfit in several different shades of brown that looked like it might fit her.

She hung up the blaster he’d tossed to her and stripped off her flightsuit, stepping out of it and leaving it on the floor. Bette pulled on the tan pants and folded over the elastic waistband on her hips to make them fit better.

By the time she was dressed and lacing up the boots the freighter had reverted to real space again and they were coming in for their landing. Bette stood up, adjusting the stun pistol on her hip.

Impersonating Rebels on an Imperial planet to bring in a defector was ... not what she’d been trained for. She scrubbed a hand through her hair, trying to give her military haircut a little more life.

”I feel like I don’t have enough dirt on my face for this to be believable,” she managed to quip as she followed Xilarian out of the freighter.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus was pretty much dressed in civilian gear as it was. He tossed his flight jacket in the bottom of his locker and removed the coat hanging inside. Per his normal request, there was a pocket inside the jacket that his blaster fit securely into. Bette didn't seem to concerned about changing clothes around him but he figured it would be gentlemanly to give her some space and busy himself with his back to her. He slipped a hand quietly into his jacket inside the locker and pulled an object small enough to palm in his hand. He casually tucked it in his coat and headed for the ramp. When Bette made a joke about not being dirty enough, he glanced over her way.

"You've never been here before. By the time we get where we're going it'll look like you crawled there.

The dock they landed at was normally used for loading and and unloading cargo on freighters, but it wasn't uncommon for companies to bring in workers with cargo dumps and pickups to save money on travel. Silus and Bette made their way through the station in silence. Once they made it out to the parking deck, Silus pulled a dataslip from his pocket.

"Alright, looks like we're on the right sublevel already. Yay for small miracles."

After walking for a few minutes, they found the parking spot indicated on the dataslip. A small civilian speeder sat on the darker end of the parking structure. The doors were unlocked.

"This is us. You can drive."

[Bette Davis]

“Damn right I can,” Bette muttered, sliding into the speeder. The starter was coded to her thumbprint, which threw her off for a moment. Engine idling quietly, she put it in gear and pulled out of the parking spot, through the other parked speeders and edged into traffic.

”I suppose we have a destination in mind?” She looked over at Xilarian, who seemed to be picking his teeth. Bette frowned, but took a deep breath and returned her attention to the road, waiting for him to speak up.

[Silus Xilarian]

"Yeah, we have some time though. Hit that drive through over there, let's get some food."

He wasn't sure but he swore he could hear Bette grinding her teeth together as she pulled into the restaurant's drive through. A few minutes later, they were out of the drive-through and sitting across the street in an empty parking lot with Silus fishing food out of a bag.

"Ok, here's the best I can figure. Local Imperials don't know about this hideout, and Intel's keeping them off the trail. They want to keep the place open and running to observe it. I'm guessing whoever the defector is they're going to be pretty high ranking, but not enough to kick the doors in on this place to nab them. So they get us to come in and get 'em out quiet like. Still can't figure why they'd redact the name of the person though, unless...."

Silus trailed off for a moment then started patting his pockets.

"Shit, I almost forgot. Take this..."

He handed over a small metal cylinder no bigger than the end of his little finger.

"If we get split up, this has a tracker in it. If we get lost on the mission they can use this to find us. Hide it well though, if you get captured and the rebels find this on you they'll not only know you're an imp, but that you're probably important enough to torture for info."

Bette took the cylinder and before she could say a word, Silus leaned in and gave her a hard look dead in the eyes.

"Where NO ONE can find it..."

Just like that, he was back to his casual self, talking over a cheekful of food.

"So anyways, yeah, the only reason I can figure they redacted the name is that someone with the same clearance as us isn't supposed to know who it is. Maybe intel's worried they've got a mole. That's probably not good, eh?"

[Bette Davis]

Bette’s eyes flashed dangerously at his suggestion, and considered stuffing the cylinder down his throat. Just as quickly, however, she overruled the urge and he was jabbering on about potential moles in ImpIntel through a mouthful of fries and nerf burger.

She put the tiny cylinder in a secure inside pocket of her jacket. “Sure. Sounds terrible.”

Bette snatched the bag of food from Xilarian and dug into it, pulling out a handful of fries. She ate them while maintaining eye contact with him.

”Dont worry, if we get captured I’ll make sure they don’t take you alive.” She smiled prettily and then let her expression go completely flat.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus cocked his head to the side and lifted his eye brows in his best 'ok I guess you think you're pretty cute' look.

"You know, let me make something clear. At any point I could have pulled the plug on the mission on account of you not having one drop of combat experience, But I said to myself 'hey, you know what, try to show her the ropes, see what she can do' and this is the attitude I get in return. I even brought you something...."

Silus reached into his coat for a minute before pulling out a small switchblade knife.

"This was going to be my way of telling you 'hey, you're grown up now, and you're not gonna have anyone taking your toys anymore' but now all I can really say..." He dropped the knife in her lap. "Try not to poke anyone's eye out..."

He pulled his coat back in place and opened his speeder door.

"I'm done, we're scrubbed. Out of professional courtesy I'll let you review my report before I submit it. Good luck getting home."

And with that, Silus stepped out of the car and started walking away.

[Bette Davis]

He’d walked half a block before the speeder pulled up next to him. Bette had stared incredulously at the switchblade in her lap, her mind racing for a full minute before she’d fired up the engine and gone after him.

Bette popped open the door and leaned over the seat toward him.

”I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but you obviously read my file. I graduated top of my class, full marks for hand to hand combat training, took you down in the sims... if anyone should be side-eyeing credentials here it’s me.

”You’re just a guy who keeps failing up. I don’t know who’s dick you sucked to become a commander but you must be good at it. And,” she applied a touch more throttle to keep up with him, “You’re walking in the wrong direction if you’re heading for the spaceport.”

Bette pulled over, cutting him off. “Get back in and we’re going to finish this stupid fucking job, it’s going to look fantastic in my file, and I won’t bother you ever again.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus' face was a mask of half amused spite.

"You're a good pilot, I'll give you that. You're almost as good as you think, but actual combat's a little tougher than jumping in a running sim and grabbing a fresh ship when everyone else's shields are nearly gone..."

He leaned down to get eye level with her.

"And getting full marks in hand to hand is probably easy when the instructors are afraid to put their hands on you."

He let the challenge sit there, curious to see if she was hotheaded enough to swing on an officer who was twice her size.

[Bette Davis]

She bristled, but let the remark hang in the air between them. He knew what she’d been through, the cold facts of it, but he didn’t know what it was like.

Bette took a deep breath.

”There’s no reason to scrub the mission, sir.“

Had she really just said he had used sexual favors to gain his rank? Bette was suddenly aware of the thin ice she was standing on, as if it had just cracked and rang one crystalline note in her ears.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus squatted down eye level with her, well aware that he was now in range of a sucker punch if she cared to deliver one. His voice was low...

"You're right, there's no reason to scrub the mission. Our ranks, records, accomplishments, none of that matters. Right now, there's a person that's ready to defect to the rebellion, and they're waiting on us to come pick them up. That's what matters. I'm not asking you to like me, I'm not asking that you respect me. All I ask is that you remember that one of us has done this before..."

Silus stood up.

"Safe house is this way, come on if you're comin."

[Bette Davis]

Bette narrowed her eyes a shade, and pulled the speeder the rest of the way off the road. Parking it, she jumped out, straightening her clothes over her 5’5” frame and jogging to catch up with Xilarian.

”Hey, if they’re expecting us, who exactly are they expecting?” She kept her voice low as she walked by his side. When he looked down at her, she added, “That whole file was redacted. How can I show how good I can be if I’m flying blind?”

[Silus Xilarian]

"Don't sweat the details. They've got everything set up for us. Just worry about what's around you, that's what's most important. And if everything hasn't been set up for us, we'll realize it before it's too late to do anything about it as long as we pay attention."

Silus got the sense Bette didn't like that answer but it was too late to dwell on it. He stopped Bette and had her lag behind him slightly. He raised his voice a bit, letting it echo off the alleyway walls.

"Yo, I'm here to pick up some dry cleaning!"

Silus heard quiet movement around them and realized they had guard's overlooking the alley from nearby windows. A large metal door beside them opened, and a small stocky man appeared. His voice was higher pitched, but scratchy.

"I think you made a wrong turn somewhere friend."

Silus did his best not to eye the blaster on the man's hip as he responded.

"I'm pretty sure this is the place, definitely looks like some laundry needs to be done here." Silus leaned forward a squinted a bit. "What does that shirt say...tyranny?"

The man eyed Silus for a moment. He glanced down the alleyway before he spoke.

"I think your Duro is a little rusty, it says Courage".

Silus shook his head and wagged his index finger a bit.

"Man, I don't mean to offend you, but I'm pretty sure that's not what it says..."

The man glanced up at the window above and behind Silus and Bette as he spoke. Hopefully she noticed where he was looking. If an attack were coming, it would start there.

"You know, that's pretty silly of me, I forgot which shirt I wore today. This one says perseverance."

Silus nodded his head.

"Yeah, I see it now. You were right, my Duro is pretty rusty."

The man relaxed a bit but there was some indecision on his face still. He glanced back into the building behind him and then motioned for Silus and Bette to follow. As they stepped inside and the door shut behind, Silus felt the air in the room grow still and heavy and realized they'd just crossed a soundproof door. Inside, several men of different races surrounded them in the room. They were all milling about and stopped to measure up Silus and Bette. One of them, a togruta, stood up in front of them. He was taller than Silus even without the montrals, and almost as thin as vibro-machete on his side. He looked Silus and Bette up and down before he spoke.

"They look like imperials..."

[Bette Davis]

“No shit, numbnuts, we're not exactly gonna walk through the city with starbirds on our shoulders,” said Bette, which set the Torgruta back on his heels a bit.

She couldn’t help looking around the room, and one of the men, a green-skinned Duro leaned closer to her.

”Nervous?” he asked, big eyes unblinking.

She drew back and glared at him. “I’m deep in the Core about to exfiltrate your guy from the Empire. Of course I’m fucking nervous.”

Bette folded her arms across her chest. “Where’s the package?” It sounded like she was in a holoflick, but what else was she going to say?

The Torgruta relented, turning his body sideways. “This way.”

[Silus Xilarian]

The guys in this room were all muscle and no brains. If Silus and Bette happened to be imperial agents, these guys would have just given away the whole game. He was impressed with the way Bette handled herself. He could have talked them through this room alone, but it would have seemed fishy to have her quietly follow along beside him like he was her commanding officer or something. He glanced over slightly and thought he caught a hint of a smirk creeping up on her face.

As they walked through the corridor a few paces behind the torgruta, Silus noticed a lack of activity in the rooms they passed. He didn't frequent Rebel hideouts very often, but he couldn't imagine one having this much wasted space. At the end of the hallway they came up on an open door. Inside was a sparsely furnished office with a small wooden desk. At that desk sat a redheaded woman with a face that looked as if it had never worn a smile in its life. She looked up from a set of datapads first at the torgruta, then at Bette and Silus. Her voice was smooth and controlled, but had an obvious edge to it.

"Who are they?" The question was flat and only had a slight tinge of irritation to it, but her eyes dug into the torgruta hard enough to make him shift nervously on his feet. "They're here for..." As he stammered out the words she sharply cut him off. "Forget it, get back to you post."

Styg, as he was called, gave a quick nod and wasted no time leaving the room. The door sealed shut behind him.

The woman stood and stepped out from behind her desk. She was probably only a few inches taller than Bette, she looked much taller just by how she carried herself. She crossed her arms and dug her toe at a spot of grime on the floor and she addressed them.

"My name is Elyah Herell...and you are?" Silus straightened his posture a bit and cocked his head slightly as spoke. "We're the pilots t....." Her voice struck like a whip crack "Your names..."

Silus backed up a step and grinned broadly. "Easy sweetheart, My name's Harris and this my partner Annabelle. Flyin partner I mean, we're not married."

Elyah narrowed her brow a bit.

"So you're the pilots they sent to escort our special cargo? That's interesting. We received a transmission a few hours ago that they'd been waylaid by imperial agents..."

Silus started to speak but instead went for his coat, but before he could get to his stun blaster he was staring at a real blaster.

"Both of you sit, NOW!"

[Bette Davis]

“Woah, okay!” Bette kept her hands clear of her blaster and carefully sat.

”I told you we should have checked in after we evaded that Imperial picket,” she said, glaring at Silus. “But no, you insisted we had a schedule to keep.”

Bette looked down as the Rebel leader took her blaster and kicked it away, clicking a set of stuncuffs around one of her wrists.

”Is this really necessary?”

[Silus Xilarian]

Herell snapped a cuff on Bette's right arm first, then demanded her left arm.

"It's not, I could just shoot you both, but something tells me you may have some information for me."

Once Bette was secured she moved over behind Silus. He sighed and put both of his arms up behind him without a word. Once both of them were cuffed, Herell moved around and grabbed her chair from behind her desk, rolled it around and sat down in front of them.

"Now, I want your names and ranks..."

Silus spoke first.

"Look, she's right, this is my fault. We managed to dodge the imperials but it put us way off schedule, and I wasn't sure where I could get a safe line to cont..."

Silus was cut off by Herell reaching into his front pocket. She stepped back holding a small metal cylinder, holding it up for both of them to see. Silus dropped and shook his head.

"Son of a bitch..."

[Bette Davis]

Bette squirmed in the chair, noticing how Herell’s eyes lingered on the front of her shirt where the leather jacket parted, not unlike the men in the Academy. She gave an extra wiggle, but the other woman was reaching into Xilarian’s jacket and pulling out a metal cylinder.

”What the hell is that?!” she panted, staring wide eyed at Silus and then at Herell. “I’m Annabelle Davids, Ensign of the Alliance to restore the Republic, I don’t have any credentials on me because we’re on fucking Duro.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Herell turned toward Bette, holding the small cylinder in front of her.

"This..." she said, gesturing toward the cylinder "is an imperial issue tracking beacon. Where's yours?"

Silus sighed.

"Give it up, we're caught..."

Bette gave Silus a look that was something between a mix of rage and, well, rage.

"Look, Herell, whatever your name is. I told her to keister it back on the ship. You're gonna have to dig it out."

[Bette Davis]

Bette flushed a deep, angry red as the woman narrowed her eyes and turned toward her. If they got out of this she was going to murder him.

”I can’t get it out,” her blush deepened, “sitting down. And I’m definitely not cooperating in front of ​him.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Herell looked over toward Silus but before she could say a word he was already scooching his chair around.

"Yeah yeah, I got it."

She turned her attention back toward Bette. She hadn't been oblivious to Bette trying to wiggle some cleavage out earlier. She brushed a lock of red hair back from her face and softened her voice.

"You know, this is the sort of thing that happens when you let a man run a mission." She flashed an almost pouty look to Bette. "Now, if I take these cuffs off, are you going to behave?"

[Bette Davis]

Bette nodded earnestly.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” she said a little breathlessly, her mind racing through several different possibilities. “Please, just don’t hurt me.”

”Oh, I don’t want to hurt you,” said Herell, leaning in a lot too close as she reached around to undo one of Bette’s cuffs. “But, we have to get that tracker disabled right now.”

”I, I understand.” Bette looked into the other woman’s eyes as she leaned over her. “I’m going to need some help...”

Herell smiled indulgently, pulling Bette to her feet and releasing her left hand as well. Bette gasped as the Rebel ran her hands up and down her body, presumably some sort of search. The way Herell lingered on her breasts sure wasn’t standard, however.

Bette fumbled with her waistband, pulling her shirt up and exposing her taut belly as she hooked her fingers into the waist of her pants and underwear. As Herell stayed close, Bette pulled down a little...

...and grabbed the other woman’s shoulders, slamming her forehead into Herell’s face.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus heard the a crack and then a struggle and nearly turned his chair over trying to get turned back around. He saw Herell stumbling backward and Bette coming at her with a hard right hook. He cringed...

As Bette stepped into the punch, Herell turned and dropped to the ground, twisting her body midair and catching Bette in a drop toe hold. The move, along with Bette's own moment took her down with a crash. As Bette pulled her arms under to try to push herself up, Herell was on her, hooking one of Bette's arms behind her and digging a knee into her back. Bette raged, but was effectively helpless. Herell held her firm, only wrenching Bette's arm just enough to keep her contained. She glanced over at Silus.

"Guess I deserved that." Silus winced a little and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we probably pushed that a bit too far. Davis, stop fighting and she'll let you up."

Herell let go of Bette's arm and stood up, quickly backing away. Silus turned his chair a bit more as Bette started to push herself off the ground.

"Bette Davis, meet Nelaa Kyris..."

[Bette Davis]

“What?” Bette pushed herself up and to her feet as quickly as she could, backing away from Herell - no, Kyris.

”What?!” she hissed, not sure if she should be trying to keep it down or not. “Is this... what the fuck Xilarian?!”

Bette jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the door. “Are they all Rebels or not?”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus was doing a pretty poor job of hiding his amusement.

“It’s a little trick we pull on new recruits, ya know, see how they handle themselves.” He looked over at Kyris. “God damn Nel, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you take a hit...”

Kyris dusted herself off a bit.

“Normally we would have sweat you a bit then start laughing but I was curious to see what you’d do. And yes, those men are rebels. We’re the only imperials in this building.”

[Bette Davis]

Bette angrily straightened her clothes, refusing to look at either of them.

Bend or break?

No one's broken me yet.

She took a single deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

"What's the plan, then? Now that you've had your fun."

[Silus Xilarian]

Kyris walked over and took the cuffs off Silus' wrist. He stood up, absently rubbing at his right wrist.

"Yeah, what's going on with this mission Nel? Target's name was redacted. Just who the hell are we pulling out of here."

Kyris glanced over in Silus' direction. "Are you familiar with General Troson Denhol?" Silus narrowed his eyebrows. "I've heard the name..."

"He's in charge of ground security for every planet in this system. He's the one we've been hiding this place from."

Silus stood up and leaned over her desk slightly. "Wait, you mean to tell me that he's defecting?!" Kyris shook her head. "No, one of his lieutenants. Denhol has some access to our mission notes but it would take some time for him to unmask a redacted name. He suspects we're here though, so this is going to change some dynamics. Nothing to be worried about though, I've been making some calls."

Silus glanced over at Bette. She didn't know how Kyris operated, so he wasn't sure how she was reading the situation. He decided to throw a little nugget out there.

"So this place isn't going to be here much longer. That's why none of your people are here skulking around."

Kyris smiled.

[Bette Davis]

Bette watched the exchange with a frown. The two agents were talking so much she was having trouble keeping up, and was starting to feel like the floor was falling out from under her again.

Emotion or logic?

Logic, always.

Bette held up a hand. “Hold on, you spent all this time infiltrating,” she half-whispered the word with a glance over her shoulder, “this cell, and now you’re going to let this general blow up all your work?

”So, anyway, obviously I’m new to this. So after we take the defector out, the cell goes down?”

[Silus Xilarian]

Kyris stared at Bette for a moment then glanced over at Silus.

"Is she going to be up for this?"

Silus gave a nod of reassurance and moved over Bette's way a few steps, almost as if to make a show of standing with her as he spoke.

"She's put up with me all this time and she's still here after that little stunt we pulled. I trust her."

Kyris nodded her head absently, obviously halfway between the conversation and her own thoughts. She leaned against the side of her desk as she spoke.

"Denhol knows that if it gets out how long this cell ran right under his nose, it'll make him look weak. If it gets out that one of his top guys is a defector it might even earn him a visit from Darth Vader. We're going to make sure his reputation stays clean, and he's going to show us...gratitude."

[Bette Davis]

“Gratitude,” Bette said slowly.

General Denhol was a name she recognized. He’d worked with her father - sometimes it seemed that everyone in the military had served with Sir Charles at one point or another. Being a retired general from the Clone Wars who left the military with honors meant he had a lot of stories. He’d even been awarded the Chandrilan Medal of Honor for distinguished service to the Empire upon his return home.

She didn’t really remember any of the stories about Denhol, though. Was he brash and impulsive, or straight-laced? Were these people really going to go against their orders to bring in the defector and instead hand him over to the general with the rest of the Rebels to be killed and swept under the rug?

Was she going to go along with it?

Easy, or difficult?






...difficult.

“I understand,” she said, standing casually with a hand on her hip. “I’ll follow your lead, sir.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus gave a slight shrug. "Ok then, I think we're good to go." He looked over at Kyris. "What's the plan?"

Kyris dropped a few items from her desk into a backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

"I have two transports ready to go on the roof. Our boy is cuffed up and sedated in the larger transport. I'll take it to meet with Denhol. You two follow me in the other transport. Once I make the drop, I'll hop in with you and we'll head back to the Relentless."

She gave Silus and Bette time to raise objections and when none were made, she nodded her. "Alright, follow me."

They made their way through the complex, taking several flights of stairs up before they made it to the roof. Before they walked out, Silus leaned over and spoke quietly to Bette.

"You did good today. When we get back, you've got a spot in Storm Squadron. Stick with me and I'll get you the fast track to lieutenant commander. No bullshit"

[Bette Davis]

Her eyes widened a bit at the offer. Storm Squadron was a bit of a parades-and-kissing-babies squadron by reputation, but it was still an honest to goodness TIE fighter squadron in the Imperial Navy.

This could be her chance to get in the cockpit of a fighter.

Maybe her only chance.

”I don’t know what to say to that,” Bette replied slowly, her mind reeling. “Sounds like I’d be stupid to refuse it.”

They walked out onto the rooftop and she could clearly see the two ships - one a light freighter of Corellian make, and the other a Sorosuub yacht. Agent Kyris was about ten steps ahead of them, heading toward the yacht.

Bette slipped her hand into her jacket pocket.

”I just want to thank you, sir. For opening my eyes.”

”What?” Silus turned his head toward her as Bette took his arm and pressed her switchblade against his side.

”If you don’t want to shit into a bag for the rest of your life, you’ll do what I say.” Bette pressed a little, letting him feel the sharpness of the knife as it cut through his shirt.

”Stop right there, Kyris,” she called, adjusting her position so she was mostly behind Xilarian and pushing him forward, the blade visible to the agent. “I’m taking the package from here.

”You two obviously forgot who you’re supposed to be working for. So I won’t feel bad including your deaths in my official report.”

[Silus Xilarian]

Everything happened pretty quickly. One moment they were stepping onto the roof, the next moment Silus was standing there with about three inches of irony shoved against his ribcage. He quickly assessed the situation. Bette didn't have the knife perfectly placed to puncture a lung, but it would definitely puncture something. He could probably elbow her in the temple and that would probably knock her out, but it would probably get him stabbed in the process. For every action he could think of that involved disarming Bette, the logical conclusion was him probably getting stabbed in the ribs. That meant the only thing left in his toolbox was negotiation. He glanced over his shoulder as far as he could as he spoke in a futile attempt to make some sort of eye contact.

"Ok Davis, just calm down, we c...." He was interrupted by Kyris yelling at him. "HOW THE HELL DID SHE GET A KNIFE!?"

As Kyris stalked toward Silus and Bette with absolute murder on her face, Silus felt Bette's grip on his arm tighten and the knife press slightly into his flesh. He kept his voice calm and controlled, but his words had the tiniest aftertaste of desperation to them.

"Nel...this is ok. We sprung a lot on her today. She's just trying to do the right thing. We can all talk this out calmly."

Kyris stopped close enough so they could talk without yelling, but not so close as to spook Bette into action. Her voice dripped with irritation.

"Ok, let's talk. How do you see this playing out...Ensign."

[Bette Davis]

Crap.

“I take whoever it is in that ship,” Bette pointed with her chin, “And I finish the mission. As written.”

Bette, you never actually saw any of the mission notes.

She squashed down the little voice, pushing Silus forward. “Make the wrong move and I’m going to gut him. And I’ll probably scream and blow your cover with those nice gentlemen downstairs. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”

Bette clenched her fist around a handful of Xilarian’s shirt under his jacket, making sure he walked past Kyris at a relatively safe distance, turning to keep her in front of them as they started walking backwards toward the transports.

Of course, if the defector wasn’t in the ship Kyris had been heading for this was going to be pretty painful. Bette gritted her teeth.

There was no way she was betraying her vow to the Empire, guaranteed promotion or not.

[Silus Xilarian]

Silus breathed a sigh of resignation.

"Nel, back away. She's made up her mind. We can make it up to Denhol some other way."

As they took their first backward steps onto the ramp of the Sorosuub yacht, Silus decided to give it one more go.

"Think about what you're giving up. I know this isn't how you want to earn your way in, but they're always going to hold you back. You deserve your shot. Don't throw your career away over this..."

[Bette Davis]

“I do deserve my shot,” Bette agreed, reaching around his body into his jacket’s left pocket, retrieving the dataslip with the mission brief. She stuffed it into her own pocket, halting his backward movement near the top of the ramp.

Silus felt one last press of the blade, down near his kidney and just enough to make him worry that she’d cut him, and then she was stepping back, away from him.

”I’m going to take it.”

Bette leveled the stun pistol at his back and shot him with the full strength of it. Xilarian’s body locked up as his nerves screamed at him, and he toppled sideways, falling off the ramp to the rooftop. She scrambled to hit the ramp controls, closing up the ship as quickly as she could before dashing toward the cockpit.

On the way there she passed a man, unconscious and tied up securely in the galley. At least that​ hadn’t been a lie.

[Douglas Garrett]

It had been 72 hours since Vice Admiral Garrett was informed of the unusual arrive of Ensign Bette Davis. She'd been sent on an extraction mission along side Commander Silus Xilarian, but the mission had taken a wild turn and at some point Xilarian had been shot. Garrett had seen the reports from both Davis and Xilarian, but he'd yet to decide on a course of action. Instead he'd scheduled a time for Ensign Davis to speak with him in person. On his desk were several datapads, one of which he was reading when Davis was brought in.

Garrett kept his eyes set on the datapad, speaking to Davis without looking at her. His voice had a bit of gravel to it with a slight hint of something mechanical behind it.

"Ensign Davis, come in, have a seat."

[Bette Davis]

72 hours.

72 hours on board the Relentless.

72 hours split between temporary quarters and mess hall, her fate unknown.

72 hours of contemplation.

When she’d arrived Bette had been sure she’d done the right thing. She had been so sure of it before that she had shot a commanding officer in the back and fled Duros. The hyperspace flight to the Relentless had given her ample time to compose a preliminary report, which she had submitted immediately upon her arrival.

72 hours was plenty of time to complete a very thorough after-action report. Bette had used an entire day to make sure she’d gotten everything down and on the record, and had submitted the report within 24 hours. When the second day had passed and no one had come to get her for a debrief, doubt had really started to take hold.

She pictured seeing her father again, on Chandrila. The prospect was not a pleasant one.

The third night onboard the Relentless she wrote a letter to him, trying to explain her actions. How the values he’d raised her with had led her to where she was, returning to the family home.

A failure.

Finally in front of Vice Admiral Garrett, Bette saluted and then took the seat indicated. She tried not to clench her hands in her lap, but her short nails were doing damage to her palms. Nearly every part of her was telling her to just tell him what had happened.

Panic, or patience?

Bette waited for the Vice Admiral to speak.

[Douglas Garrett]

Once Davis had take a seat, Garrett set the datapad down on his desk and sat up straighter in his chair giving Davis a better look at his face. His close cropped beard was stark white save for a bit of black still left in his mustache and just above his chin. It barely hid the scar that ran from his adam's apple to the bottom of his right ear. He leaned forward a bit, resting his forearms on his desk. His left hand absently rubbed at the scarred knuckles of his right hand.

"So Ensign Davis. You'll have to forgive me for your extended stay on my ship. This is a unique situation and I wanted to gather as much information as I could before taking any action. Commander Xilarian required some medical attention when he arrived, so there was a delay in receiving his report."

He paused for a moment to see if Davis would interject, and continued when she didn't.

"So, I've found in my career that when people write things down, you don't always get the clearest sense of what happened. Sometimes when people speak about something out loud, they may remember details that they'd forgotten."

And sometimes their stories change. He let his tone make the implication for him.

"With that being said, Ensign, I would like for you to give me your version of events."

[Bette Davis]

Bette took a deep breath, and began to retell her memories of the mission. It wasn’t word for word for her report, but she’d had a lot of time to think about it.

Maybe too much time.

When she’d finished Bette bit her lip, forcibly unclenched her fists in her lap and stared at the Vice Admiral’s face.

“I tried to act in accordance to Imperial values, sir.”

[Douglas Garrett]

Garrett listened intently as Davis told her side of the story. Even under the stress of the situation, she gave a clear recounting of the events that unfolded. More so, Garrett got a sense of the emotions she felt reliving these events in her mind. One thing that stuck out to him, never once during her statement did she pause to defend her actions, or give extra context. Garrett found that when people had a guilty conscious over something they had done, when asked to recount their deeds, they would immediately start trying to contextualize and defend. Davis also wasn't shy about recounting events that painted her in a less than favorable light. All in all, he found her testimony to be very compelling.

Garrett cleared his throat once Davis was finished and pushed himself back from his desk slightly. He took one of the datapads as he began to speak.

"Thank you for your recollection Ensign. Tell me, would you like to hear what Commander Xilarian had to say about your actions?"

Davis seemed guarded and apprehensive, but she managed to look him square in the eyes and answered, "Yes, sir." He could see her steeling herself for what was about to come. Garrett turned the datapad on and began to read.

"...In summary, Ensign Davis displayed not only a sound tactical mind under intense pressure, but also a strong moral compass. Myself and Agent Kyris presented her with a situation where taking a moral path would not only come at a likely professional cost, but would also place her in immediate personal danger. Ensign Davis took the moral path without hesitation."

Garrett set the datapad down.

"There's more, but that's the heart of it. You're welcome to read it if you like." He slid the datapad across his desk where she could reach it. "I must say, just about any person in your situation would be sitting here today explaining to me why they kept their mouth shut while a corrupt officer traded a prisoner off for personal gain."

He stood up and walked around his desk, a slight limp in his step as he moved. He motioned for Davis to stand as he approached her.

"I'm glad that's not the conversation we had today, Lieutenant Davis."

As her eyes went wide with realization he reached up and carefully removed the ensign rank plate on her uniform, replacing it with a junior lieutenant rank plate before saluting her.

"You are dismissed."

[Bette Davis]

Bette’s mouth fell open, and she stared down at her chest as the Vice Admiral fastened the new rank plate to her uniform.

”I - I - yes sir,” she managed, walking out of of his office in a daze. Afterward she couldn’t remember if she’d saluted or not, or done any of the things one was supposed to do upon promotion.

Her career wasn’t over.

More than that, she’d just been made an lieutenant junior grade.

Outside of Vice Admiral Garrett’s office she stood in the hallway for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

[Silus Xilarian]

"Looks good on you..."

Behind Bette, Silus was leaning against the wall. His face was a bit scratched up and his left arm was in a sling, but otherwise he was no worse for wear. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Come on, take a walk with me. I've got something to show ya."

He walked past her but noticed she hadn't moved, a look of confusion on her face. He smiled.

"Direct order."

[Bette Davis]

“Yes sir,” she said automatically, turning to follow him. “I’m, uh, glad to see you on your feet, sir.”

She wasn’t going to apologize for shooting him. But, it was good to see Xilarian was not permanently injured.

There were many thoughts swirling through her mind as she followed Xilarian through the passages of the Relentless, but Bette kept them to herself for now. She followed quietly, saving her questions for a more opportune moment. She still didn’t quite believe what had just happened and kept looking down at her new rank plate as if to make sure it was actually there.

[Silus Xilarian]

For a few minutes they walked in silence. Bette still seemed to be somewhat in shock, so much so that there were times when Silus had to slow his pace to let her catch up. Finally, they reached an area of the ship that required biometric identification before they could enter. As soon as the door shut behind them, Silus slowed down a bit and started talking.

"So, in the early days of the Empire, one thing the higher ups learned pretty quickly is that the sight of a star destroyer is usually enough to gentle down any system that gets a little rowdy. You shine a light, and all the roaches scatter. The problem is, as soon as the light's out, they're right back to what they were doing. So the top brass got together and came up with a bright idea. Small squadrons of elite pilots that can be quietly deployed, get in, blow some shit up, and be out of the system before the rebels can even put their boots on.

Silus glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bette was still listening.

"They were a little too successful though. Rebels started paying more for information on elite pilots than they did for high ranking officers. Before long, the Empire was losing more pilots to assassination and defection than they were to actual combat. It took the Imperial Navy some time to realize they only had a finite amount of high level talent. When they did finally get it through their skulls, they sat down with Imperial Intelligence to figure out a way to keep helmets on their pilot's heads rather than knives in their backs."

They stopped in front of a door in the middle of a long hallway. Silus punched a code into the keypad by the door.

"This is my room, hang on just a second..."

Bette stood just outside the door, and was almost knocked over as Silus came back out, tugging a jacket over his shoulders and barely watching where he was going. The door whizzed shut behind him, and he was walking and talking again as if he'd never stopped.

"So anyways, that's where Admiral Garrett comes in. I don't know how much you know about him, but the guy is a certified badass. He was an intel agent in the Old Republic, and was one of the first agents out in the field after the formation of the Empire. Got messed up pretty badly on a mission though, so they had him quarterbacking missions from HQ and interrogating prisoners. The guy was an insanely good interrogator too. They said that one time...

Silus paused for a second, realized he was getting off topic, then refocused.

"Nevermind that. Anyways, they brought him in and put him to work keeping our pilots safe. The first thing he did was break up every squadron. On the official record, the current batch of pilots were too compromised to be effective, new blood would have to be brought in. It was all bullshit though. Fake pilot profiles were created. Fake mission logs, everything. Rebels couldn't find any of these pilots cause they didn't really exist. The existing pilots either 'retired' or were 'moved' to existing squadrons throughout the Empire."

He looked back at Bette and grinned as realization started to wash over her face.

"100% honesty, I've flown exactly three missions with Storm Squadron, and two of them were birthday parties."

As he said this, they passed through small hallway and into a hangar bay, where twelve TIE Advanced fighters sat motionless.

"Out of all of these, Shadow Squadron is the cream of the crop. Even after scrambling everything, the reputation just kind of persisted. I don't know if it's the name or what. Garrett hates the attention, but he rolls with it. While he's busy making sure the Rebel's are chasing shadows on one side of the galaxy, the real Shadow's are raising hell on the other side..."

He turned to Bette.

"...and one of these fighter's is in need of a pilot's ass to polish its seat."

He cocked his head to the side a bit as a grin spread across his face.

"Is that something that might interest you, or are you gonna shoot me again?"

He winked and made a little finger gun with his right hand.

"You make the call, Shooter."

[Bette Davis]

Bette tried to take in all the information, but she wasn’t sure she could retain it all without taking notes. She also had no idea how to get back to her temporary quarters from wherever it was they were.

The last question, however, certainly got her attention.

”Would it interest me?” She raised her eyebrows, then narrowed her eyes as he gave her a nickname. A smile crept over her face.

”Yes, sir.” Bette had eyes only for the TIE fighters. “Hell yes.”

[Bette Davis]

Dearest Father,

You have probably already heard my news, through someone at the Club, but I swear I’m sending this as soon as I can get access to the secure ‘net. You know how it is when you’re fresh out of the Academy.

I have recently been promoted to Lieutenant, and I am now part of a TIE squadron. I am extremely happy to be out of shuttle pool, which I always thought was a waste of my talent.

I know now you haven’t been writing back to me because you don’t want anyone to think you are somehow helping me make my way. To be honest I almost didn’t write this letter at all, as I’m not sure you read them, but in the end I am kind of writing this for me as much as for you.

I have been holding onto the knife you gave me - it was almost taken from me but I got it back. Non-regulation weapon. I’m sure you can imagine the write up.

Whenever i I have been in a tough situation I think back on what you used to drill into me. To be patient instead of panicking. Logical instead of emotional. Bend rather than break when things are hard, and never settle for the easy road when the difficult path is the right one.

And, of course, cocky instead of timid. You never really told me that, but I learned it from you and your many stories.

I like to think that Mother would be proud of me, if she were here.

I hope you are too.

~ Bette