Post Script: The Battle of Endor

ooc: This takes place three hours after the Battle of Endor is over. /ic:

Far above the forest moon of Endor, the ISD Termagant floated in high orbit. The second Death Star was crippled, the superlaser knocked out in the latest skirmish between the Empire and the Rebellion, and the Termagant's fighter complement had been severely depleted during the battle.

Inside the ship claxons rang, and red lights started flashing. Bette thumbed the intercomm to the pilot barracks, and barked, "This is not a drill! Report to hangar 187 immediately! This is not a drill!"

Inside, pilots jumps off their racks, tied on boots and zipped up flightsuits. Flight Commander Bette "Shooter" Davis walked back to where Razor was waiting by the Fat Lady. Tod "Maniac" Marr was lounging against the side of his TIE Interceptor, and Bette gave his boot a kick as she walked by. "Look sharp, our recuits will be here in a moment."

Slowly sliding his gloves on and securing them to the flight suit, Ulrhik checked the pressure valves on the suit once more before zipping it completely up. He glanced in the mirror of his locker at his face for a moment and observed how ordinary it was. Nothing sharp or really noticable about his features to draw attention to it, merely another face among the Empire.

As an individual, Godsend was nothing, but as a pilot and a part of the Empire, he felt as if he were something on a much higher level than one person could ever be. He'd been through the Academy, not the most noticable for academics but his flight instructors quickly found where his true skill was. Ulrhik quickly earned the call sign "Dragon" for his attitude and seemingly invincibility in a TIE. He'd fought in several skirmishes against the rebels and in unbelievable odds not been scored once while flying a TIE Fighter or later the TIE Interceptors. But now, he stood aboard the ISD Termagent and was a new recruit to Shadow Squadron. Godsend was more than glad to be serving the Empire where he knew his skills would be put to the most effective use.

He went ahead and slid on his helmet, he did not recognize himself as it being necessary for his wing mates to know him by face. In a TIE, a lifespan's survival rate dropped by a large margin. He turned out of the barracks and made his way to docking bay 187 at a doubletime pace.

Arriving, he quickly found Flight Commander Davis and saluted to report in.

Vahlshalynn quickly went through the motions and suited up, giving her gear a once over before heading to the docking bay. It was just another day in the Imperial Navy. As fast as she had become the only surviving fighter pilot left from her squadron, she was already reassigned here to the Termagant. Her old Star Destroyer hadn't the manpower to support her. They were ordered to head to the nearest starport for repairs while she flew her Interceptor to her new home. It incurred little damage during the dogfight and Aliya was glad for that. There was no need to scramble a fighter for her.

Aliya's helmet was snuggled between her left arm and side as she entered docking bay 187. With a snap of her boots together, she greeted her superiors with a crisp salute. "Captain Aliya Vahlshalynn reporting for duty, Ma'am!"

She liked this new squad already. Since entering the Academy, Aliya had yet to serve with any other women. They existed but there were very few of them. For once, she didn't feel like an outsider and was more then thrilled to meet her Commanding Officer. Which meant one of two things. Either her and Davis would get along great or be at each other's throats.

Zachariah rolled out of his bunk and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He stuck his feet into his boots, buttoned up his flightsuit, and grabbed his helmet off the table next to his bunk. He half walked, half ran the whole way to hangar 187. His short cut black hair was a slight mess but his grey blue eyes were open and alert. He strode into the hangar bay and walked up to those already gathered "Colonel Zachariah Jak'el reporting for duty" He said with his boots together, his back straight, and his hand raised in a salute.

The Claxons blared again reminding Zachariah, and others, that the battle was still going on outdoors. Fresh from the academy, Zachariah didn't have the combat experience that most veteran fighter pilots had, but he made up for this in skill and talent. It was because of his great abilities that he had been positioned on the Termagant. This being his first major battle made him slightly nervous but he hid emotions frmo his face and just stared straight ahead.

Echoes from the battle that had ended badly on both sides reverberated through the hangar. Everyone here had been touched in some way by the Rebel fighters - most of the new pilots had come from squadrons that had been nearly completely decimated. Command had been up these three hours since the end of the battle, re-organizing the squadrons, and filling the suddenly empty spots on Shadow Squadron.

The loss of their fellow pilots ran deep, but the surviving members knew that there was time for grieving later. Bette stalked along the line of weary pilots, most of them woken from a few minutes shut eye after the battle. "As you know, Shadow Squadron is the most elite fighter squadrons in the Empire." She glared at the recruits, but the lines at the corners of her eyes suggested that she was just as tired as they were.

"Elite doesn't mean invincible. You are getting a chance to fly with some of the best of the best. The frelling Rebels took some of us out, and now we're stuck with you. And you are stuck with us." Marr stood up straight finally, but only for a languid stretch. Bette walked back to stand with him, and Val Torre took her place.

"We lost our leader, and they haven't issued us a new one yet. So for the time being, Flight Commander Davis and I are your direct superior officers. If you don't listen to us, you might get us all killed out there." Torre didn't stalk, but he did make eye contact with each pilot.

"Some of you may have noticed that Flight Commander Davis is a female! Shadow Squadron does not put up with anyone who thinks women are less capable than men, and for that matter, she can probably kill you with her thumbs. Give her the respect due her position - she's earned it, as have the other two pilots here that are of the female persuasion.

"That being said, we're to go out and sweep the battlefield for leftovers. Boobytraps, X-wing pilots left behind, and of course, any survivors. We're flying our standard TIE Interceptors today, so report to your fighters. We're bugging out in ten."

Beneath his helmet, Ulrhik grimaced at the mention of the women. He knew that Flight Commander Davis had been the woman who had spoken first, he recognized her position, but he had still seen too many women wash out or die in the academy and in the few battles he had seen them fight in. There was not much space in the Empire for the frailty of the stereotypical women but these were different, as Flight Commander Torre had said. Ulrhik noted their posture and form, much more aggressive than he'd seen in even male pilots before. He knew it would be difficult under the weight of statistical doubt but he would attempt to view them as capable.

He nodded and saluted to Flight Commander Torre, double checking the latches on his suit and helmet before he made his way to where the TIE interceptors of Wing 3 were awaiting. Elite might as well mean invincible for Ulrhik, he had no intention of dying anytime soon. He desired that none of his wingmates met an untimely end but sometimes it came down to oneself when saving their own hide. He told the technicians standing by to do a double check on the whole wing though and not just his TIE just incase though.

Jill Chambers pulled on her flight suit over her thin frame. As the suit squeezed her body, adjusting the pressure, she looked in the mirror and began to tie her long black hair into a bun. She pulled her gloves on and snapped them into place, listening to the slight hiss as they slid into place.

After grabbing her helmet she quickly ran out of the door and down to the hangar. She could see several others jumping into their ships and shook her head, dissapointed in herself. "Late again Chambers. . .what's wrong with you?" She ran up to her commanders and stood at attention giving a salute to her superiors.

"Lieutenant Jill "Stilleto" Chambers reporting in!" She said as she locked eyes with her commanders.

We're bugging out in ten.

That was her cue and with a nod of respect to her superior, Torre, Aliya huffed it to her fighter. Two technicians were just finishing up on some minor repairs on the fighter that had been caused from its previous battle.

Affectionally patting her TIE's left wing, she looked over the repairs herself. She never fully trusted anyone working on her ship since the incident on Chandrila. "How's it looking boys?"

The one tech had just finished putting a new solar panel on the right wing and wiped his hands clean. "Good as new Captain. Damage was minor and we were able to finish it up in time for your run."

Everything seemed in order and she looked it over with a critical eye twice to be sure. Satisfied, Aliya climbed into the ball of the cockpit. The other tech scrambled away with the fuel line, leaving the TIE ready for take off when the order was given. Strapping herself in and securing her helmet, Aliya began the pre-flight check and counted down till launch time.

His hand strayed to the rank badge at his breast as it had countless times in the past few hours, almost as if the tactile sensations could offset the utter strangeness of the situation.

Him, a Captain.

Well, acting Captain in any case, and nominal commander of an entire ISD. If anything in life might make his father cry, it would be this. If only he were here now to offer guidance, perhaps he could make some sense of this world gone topsy-turvy.

It wasn’t Kellison’s fault, of course. Fate had decided to play a cruel joke by simultaneously giving him everything he had ever dreamed of, while plunging everything he ever thought he had known into chaos. The Emperor, dead? The Death Star, crippled? Yesterday he would have thought these things impossible--today they were stark reality. But if fate had decided to play coy with him, fortune had again smiled warmly on him. There was no other way to explain it.

Four years ago he had found himself transferred from his dream appointment upon the first glorious Death Star mere weeks before it had been destroyed by the contemptible rebels. And today, fortune was on his side again. It really shouldn’t have happened, of course, it was a one in a million chance. The Termagant’s bridge deflector shields had experienced a momentary shut-down, dropping for just enough time for a stray warhead to collide with the command deck. Mere meters had separated him from the fate of Captain Farard as a falling bulkhead broke loose and crushed the life from him. Kellison didn’t even think about what may have happened had his chance cube turn up the other way and he had been standing on the Captain’s left. It didn’t pay to dwell on past decisions. You were either fortunate or you were not.

Tal Kellison was convinced he was in the former camp.

Had the accident happened on any other day, little in his life would have changed, but today was not any other day. With his former commanding officer’s blood still spreading across the floor and the battle still raging, he had sent a frantic distress call to the Executor, requesting orders. The impatient Admiral, obviously occupied with more pressing matters, had a curt reply:

“Well then, I guess you’re in charge now, Captain.”

In his mind he was already spinning the situation. Before the month was out, he would have himself firmly convinced he had been promoted in a grand ceremony, with hundreds of Imperial officers in their finest dress uniforms looking on, with the sound of thunderous applause filling the great hall. After all, that’s the way it should have happened. He was clearly one of the finest men the Empire had ever seen. Had the Emperor not experienced an untimely demise, he was certain to have elected Kellison as his personal advisor before too long. He fingered the rank badge again, the rank badge that had formally adorned the breast of Captain Farard. But it was his now, and with the finest squadron of fighter pilots in the fleet under his command, he fancied he was now one of the most powerful men in the entire Imperial Navy.

He supposed he should make his way down to the TIE hanger to see the new recruits. His superiors had wasted no time filling the slots vacated by several members of Shadow Squadron who had made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of the Empire. He half-hoped Commander Davis may have been one of those. She was habitually insubordinate and grated on his last nerve. Still, she was a damn good pilot and managed to reign in the egos of the others under her command.

No, he took it back, he hoped she had survived. After all, he was a Captain now. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she found out.

“Almost got it…..almost got it……..there” Dozens of dormant monitors flickered to life from three hours of slumber. Haggard, grimy faces blinked at the sudden change of lighting. Strewn throughout the bridge of the Mindflayer was a mess of debris. Power conduits randomly showered the many occupants with sparks of electricity. Burned out consoles billowed smoke choking those nearby. Bulkhead plating, wrecked crew seats, and broken bodies littered the deck.

In spite of the strife people cheered, not out of triumph, but of the gratitude of being alive. Senior Commander Balades slapped the shoulder of a tech that was buried waist deep in the innards of the main control panel, the other hand holding a bloodied rag to the side of his head.

“Good work. Everybody get to whatever stations are still running. Tell me what works and what doesn’t.”

As men and a few women, both command crew and lowly deckhands, scrambled to find a working console, Balades helped the tech free himself from the ocean of wires. The commander gave a half-hearted smile. “You’re definitely getting a promotion after this.” The tech stumbled forward and slumped to the ground and looked up with blood-shot eyes, a relieved grin on his face. “Sir, I don’t care if I was made emperor, all I want is a weeks worth of sleep.”

Tel chuckled lightly as he stepped away from the man. His gaze traveled the single holoprojector left on deck. Outside the ravaged hull of the Mind flayer was a mess of wrecked ships, both Imperial and Rebel, a grave yard for hundreds of thousands. Balades winced as what was left of the external cams zoomed in on the drifting hulk of the Acklay, the command ship of his battlegroup.

Hushed whispers of awe and terror filled the room as people speculated on what who had won.

“Sir, we’re picking up several signals, friendlies mostly. Activity is centered around the Termagant……damn, a few our group made it out too.”

“Good, try and fire up the engines. Have the rest of our ships form up, we’re transferring to Termagant’s group.”

A shudder rippled throughout the ship as massive ion engines roared to life. With the grace of a crippled ronto, Mindflayer’s battered hull slowly moved towards the ISD.

The comm-system cackled to life and voices of rescuers and the trapped filtered through the speakers. Balades wearily flicked the broadcast switch.

"This is Senior Commander Balades, my flight commander is dead and most of us can barely crawl out of here. I hope you don't mind any more floatsam tagging along."

From orbit, Endor was a tranquil place. The entire surface of the moon was one rolling, green canopy. It wasn't until you got farther down into the atmosphere that you could see the blasted out, charred black hole pock-marking the otherwise prestine foliage.

The Imperial compound at the center of the carnage was still in disarray, with enlisted troops and Stormtroopers busy picking through the wreckage of the generator. The shrapnel was scattered for kilometers. But here in the center, amid the blast craters and fallen AT-ST Walkers, there were countless bodies.

Taijin Daece stood at the edge of the clearing, surveying the area in disbelief.

"Ewoks..."

He turned to the Stormtrooper standing next to him, still looking as if he was trying to process that word.

"Frelling Ewoks..."

Taijin was a tall, lean Zabrak, dark skinned with deep beige horns and black hair. He wore a forest camoflage duster over an assortment of field gear. And under that, noticeable only if you knew to look for it, was the uniform of an Imperial Officer.

Not even four hours ago, the Rebels had fallen right into their trap. The war itself was so close to ending in one glorious maneuver it was almost euphoric. Then, somehow, a tribe of underevolved, primitive, and dare he say, cute little fuzzballs made fools out of an Imperial garrison.

Reports were still sketchy on how the Rebels secured the generator. But they were pinned in long enough to sacrifice themselves and blow up the shield tower.

At least, he didn't see how they could have gotten out.

The amount of work ahead of the Empire down here would have been scheduled for months by any sane contractor. But with the Death Star hanging over them as vulnerable as it was, they had days at best. Days before, what, though, who knew?

Rumors of the Emporer's and Vader's death grew louder and wider with every incoming report, causing the fear of immediate execution to lessen in direct proportion. But until told otherwise, they still had a job to do. Rhetoric aside, the Galactic Empire still meant something to these soliders.

Taijin, for one, had worked too damn hard to get this far. For an alien, even a Zabrak to get officer's bars in the Empire was too big an achievement to give up on just because the winds shifted.

The Recon Scout checked his rifle and looked up. Shadow Squadron was regroped already. He'd heard the order go out to sweep the field. Chances are they wouldn't stick around for guard detail too long after that, but with the new state of the chain of command, who knew.

He wondered who was left on the roster after this one. Guess he'd find out soon enough.

Zachariah liked Commander Davis' attitude about things. He knew the power woman officers held. His previous squadron had been commanded by a female officer. His former squadron had been among the best but sadly during the battle to defend the deathstar; half his squadron had been wiped out by the ship know as the Millenium Falcon and it's flight of X-wings. The surviving members had been traded out to other squadrons and Zach got traded to Shadow.

"Understood" He shouted before jogging over to the Tie Iterceptor that had been issigned to him. He had flow interceptors before but he had never flown this one before, His origal tie fighter had been too damaged to repair. He looked the ship over before climbing up and into the cockpit. "Looks ok so far" He said to himself as he pulled his helmet down onto his head "Now lets hope she flies like she should" He turned the power core on and sat back in his seat as the ship warmed up.

He chined his comm "This is Shadow Eight. I am all green and ready to fly. Awaiting orders."

Bette slid her five foot six frame into her modified TIE Interceptor, the Maneater. The techs' had rigged it for atmosphere, but she didn't feel like trusting the technology at the moment. She sealed up her suit and helmet, tasting the too cold air that the regulator pumped into the helmet. She clicked on the comm, dialing into the squadron channel.

"Shadows Six, Eight and Ten, form up on me when you clear the magnetic shields. Shadow Seven, you have point on your wing." She turned her head, lifting a hand to wave at Val's TIE as it zipped past her and out into space. Be safe. She fired up her engines and followed Shadow Eight out of the hangar.

Once in the liberty of space she scanned the immediate area. It was free of debris, and therefore free of danger for the moment. "Newbies, try not to fly into each other." She chuckled to herself, and listened to Val talking to his wing. Maniac was singing something, but she tuned it out, focusing on her wingmates. Only one was familiar, Vance "Ripper" Emmerick had been a Shadow for two years. His best friend had died in what had turned out to be a suicide run on a Mon Cal cruiser. They'd lost exactly half of the squadron in a chilling turn of events.

She'd done the math - it had been moments after the Emperor's death on the unfinished Death Star. She heard rumors that Palpatine had been able to help the Empire focus it's battle plans, but she was now convinced that he had been helping the battle along. When he'd kicked the bucket, things had started going awry in ships that couldn't possibly have heard the news.

A squadron of squints had flown into Shadow Squadron, seemingly lost, and ... well, dwelling on the past never solved anything. Bette checked her scopes, her wingmates were formed up on her. "Ripper, take Jackal, I've got Dragon. If we have to split up, that's how it's going to be. Now, let's get started sweeping this battlefield of junk. Keep your sensors on full."

The distinct whine of the TIE engines assaulted Captain Kellison as the turbolift doors opened.

"What is the meaning of this!?" He yelled futily at the last of the departing craft.

He'd have all of their heads; it was an outrage! Many of the pilots had just arrived, but the Shadow Squadron veterans damn well should have known better than to leave without first reporting to him. After all, they needed his words of advice, his motivational speach. The battle had ended, true, but danger still lurked around the corner of every derelict ship in orbit.

"Commander, put Davis and the rest on report! I want them degreasing every piece of machinery on this ship."

Of course, no one had followed him to the hanger, a fact he remembered only after the outburst had left his mouth. He'd have to write the infraction down, as he had a notoriously bad memory. Insubordination like this had to be punished. His thoughts were interupted by the comm screen behind him, which sprang to life with the face of an unfamiliar deck officer..

"Sir, we just recieved a message from a Commander Balades, requesting permission to join us. He's piloting what's left of the Mindflayer."

"Inform the Commander I'll contact him momentarily."

"Aye, Sir"

With and indignant huff, he turned on perfectly shined boots and returned to the lift. He would deal with Shadow Squadron later.

"Roger Flight Commander, I've got your wing Shooter."

Ulrhik pulled his standard Interceptor up to Davis' wing and followed her out. Sensors were on full range and Godsend was not too particularily fond of the fact. Full range meant that any enemies lying in wait could see them coming kliks away. Interceptor's were manueverable but still...

He eased the throttle and maintained pace with the Flight Commander, taking note of the other two, Ripper, a veteran of SS, and Jackal, a recruit like Dragon. Fortunately, Davis WAS Flight Commander and not a new recruit like them. amounting for more trust from Godsend.

His sensors picked up the carcasses of a variety of ships but nothing useful, much less salvagable. It looked like the Rebels had left in just as much a hurry as the Empirials had pulled back, not taking mind to leave any boobytraps. The Rebels weren't that kind of fighter as a whole anyways. He gave them respect for using much more capable fighters and for their tactics in the past but they could have been so much better if they disregarded some of their weaker tendencies. Unfortunately for the Rebels, the Empire had the numbers and the collective skill to oppress them from achieving much.

Survivors would probably be the only thing out here, Ulrhik predicted. And maybe one or two sly X-wings that couldn't jump before and just killed their engines to sleep it off until the Empire calmed down.

The battlefield at Endor had become an orbital graveyard. Imperial wreckage mixed with Rebellion to the point that it was difficult to tell which was which. Here and there ships were split in half like massive beasts disembowled, but most of the ravaged vessels were in pieces no bigger than a refrigerator. Any of those fragments posed a danger to TIE pilots, but the real danger was smaller--rivets, bolts, splinters of hull plating, pieces too small to be seen in time to avoid a collision. Even a chunk of metal the size of a man's fist could be devastating to a small craft traveling near .25c.

Watcher Squadron was one of the TIE units that had been stranded in the shattered battlefield. Of the twelve Watchers, only five squints had survived the Battle of Endor. They had refueled near the end of the battle. That had been fourteen hours ago.

"Adjust course. Heading two-one-zero mark one-seven-niner. Throttle 75 MGLT. Maintain visual scanning."

If exhaustion was affecting First Lieutenant Tannis V'larr in any way, he didn't let on. His half-Sikarran heritage gave him what his human colleagues considered an unnatural mental focus, a clinical disposition toward any situation that had earned him the callsign "Professor." Tannis found such callsigns unnecessary, a mark of sloppiness in communication protocol, but he endured it. Humans required such traditions to maintain a sense of continuity and community.

"Banshee to Professor. What the hell is the word from Timocracy? They said they'd call us in six hours ago!"

"I queried Timocracy command when they failed to contact us," Tannis replied dispassionately. "I did so again two hours ago as protocol dictates. Judging from their lack of response, they have either lost communications or they are attending to more urgent matters. Until we receive new orders, we will maintain our patrol."

"Screw command, sir, we're being ignored!"

Tannis almost snapped off a blistering reprimand, but he thought better of it. His pilots were fatigued and likely in a state of mild shock over the battle. Whispers of the Emperor's death had reached the beleaguered Watchers--even though Tannis had emphasized that they had heard no confirmation, his pilots were nervous. Human psyches were fragile. It was more important now that he be a patient leader than a drill instructor.

"The fleet is in disarray," Tannis said. "The first order of business for the flag officers is to assess their remaining forces; the second order is to see to the safety of our fleet; the third order is to look for survivors. We must adhere strictly to protocol or we risk adding to the chaos."

Hopefully, his logic would cut through the emotional duress and lend them mental fortitude. But there were other matters to address.

"In the meantime, however, we must see to our own needs. Watchers seven and nine, lock your navigational computers into mine. You will sleep for two hours, after which Watchers two and five will take a sleep-shift. I will alert you should our situation change."

A chorus of half-hearted "Aye sirs" and two of the Watcher squints darkened for a two-hour nap. It was a compromise of protocol in a battlefield situation, but a necessary one.

Tannis glanced upward at the mission clock on his HUD. Another two hours, and he would hail Timocracy again, then Haphaestus, or Tergamant, or any other command ship in the sector. He was damned if he'd let his squadron be ignored any longer.

"Yes, Ma'am" Zach said over the comm before falling in behind "Ripper". After he cleared the two other Inteceptors he flew moved his fighter until it was behind and to the right of Ripper's fighter.

Zach had never seen so much space junk. The sight of the destroyed cruisers, frigates, and other warships sent a shiver down his spine. if the rebels had managed destruction on this scale with such a small fleet, he wondered what they could do with a large one. He wasn't one to think negative thoughts like that but the truth was the rebels had wiped the floor with them before they went packing themselves. He snapped his eyes away from the sight when he proxemity alarm sounded. "Crud" He said to himself when he saw the reason for the alarm. He was too close to Ripper's fighter "Great, now I look like a total newb" He eased up on the throttle until he was a decent distance from his wingmate.

He opened a private channel to Emmerick, "Do you think we'll find any enemies out here?" He asked as he kept his eyes on his sensor monitor "So far I've sighted nothing."

Flight Commander Torre clicked on the comm. "All Shadow's I've just recieved word that the Mindflayer is going to be joining us. We're to escort it in. Shooter, take your wing and continue the sweep."

"Roger that, Razor." Bette dipped her wings in response as the first two wings split off from their formation and flew towards the crippled craft that was making it's way towards the Termagant.

Emerick chuckled, a dry rasping sound, as he replied over the private channel to his wingman. "Enemies - no. After a few hours in cold space everyone gets pretty happy to see anyone. Woah..." He looked down at his HUD and clicked over to the squadron's channel. "Head's up, we've got a bogey moving on the other side of that Mon Cal cruiser. Looks like we'll be - yep there he is. A TIE Defender."

Shooter barked, "Ripper take Jackal and try to contact. Godsend, you're with me." She slammed her foot on the rudder pedals, and yanked the yoke up, spiraling up and over the derelict cruiser. She intended to come up behind the lonely Defender, to provide a stiffer escort.

Vance opened up a general frequency channel. "TIE Defender pilot, this is Shadow Ten. Glad to find someone out here alive."

The radio chatter was a comforting presence in Tannis's headset. It told him the Empire was tending to its own, healing its wounds, beginning to set the fleet in order again. On his tactical radar he could see a new squadron scrambling to assess the battlefield--IFF tagged them as the Shadows, based off the ISD Termagant. He'd heard fantastic reports of their exploits against the Rebellion and other enemies of the Empire, but the Battle of Endor had been the first time he'd had the privelege of flying alongside them.

He was about to make another course change when he picked up a bogey in the area--TIE Defender, must have been separated from its squadron. He paused to observe one of the Shadows peeling off to render escort.

And then his HUD flashed a warning.

"Watcher Lead to Shadow Ten, energy spike--"

He couldn't even snap off a clipped warning before the rocket pod on the Defender's undercarriage flashed and spat out a concussion missile. The warhead bridged the gap between the Defender and Vance's interceptor like chain lightning, crashing through the squint's meager shields and canopy glass before detonating and tearing the fuselage to ribbons. Shadow Ten didn't have time to scream.

Tannis hammered his yoke pedals to wheel his interceptor around. "Watchers, alert! Weaponsfire in sector nine! Pursue on my wing!"

Watchers seven and nine were in for a rude awakening as their fighters, still locked with Tannis's, copied his neck-breaking maneuver. The other two Watchers, dulled by shock, followed a second afterward.

The rogue Defender rocketed through the cloud of sparks and debris that had been Vance's fighter, angling crazily toward the thickest part of the ravaged fleet. Then the pilot's comm. channel opened, spewing a stream of manic babble.

"The Emperor's black bones are broken! I see his ashes covering the stars! They're falling, falling! Everything's burning!"

Another signal leapt across the ether. "This is Watcher Leader to Shadow Squadron. We have observed the situation and are closing on your position. How may we assist?"

Ulhrik maintained course with Davis as they pulled up and came behind the defender. Just as the defender came into the edge of their sight, it fired a concussion missle. Thousands of questions rushed through Ulrhik's mind as it slammed into Shadow Ten. It flew through the dust of the TIE interceptor and right past Jackal; the pilot screaming some nonsense about the death of the Emperor.

"Wing Commander... engage the hostile?"

All Ulrhik needed was the green. Davis had been wise enough to pull up behind the defender and now her and Ulrhik were right on his tail. Ulrhik had not know Ripper, only but the last few moments, but that did not mean he was completely disconnected from the loss of a wingmate. Shadow Squardon bore skill in its ranks and a loss meant the death of one more good pilot. This defender had no regard for that and Ulrhik felt like he needed to make him learn to respect that.

'Let's go fly a...what the frell!?'

A red blip flashed on Tod's HUD. Shadow Ten's locater flickered into norhing.

'Hey Razor, did you see that? Should we go and check it out?

"Negative, Shadow Twelve." Val said, through gritted teeth.

He stamped on his foot-yokes and the Fat Lady soared forward with increasing momentum. The orange light from the explosion faded and his cockpit was dark once more. His fingers tightened around the hand yokes and he pulled back, the wing pylons trembled, bringing his ship to a sudden dramatic climb towards the underbelly of the Mindflayer.

"We have a job to do. Five, Nine, Twelve; try to keep up! Let's escort that cruiser."

Behind him he heard the roar of engines and laser fire. His jaw clenched and he thumbed the voice comm.

"Shooter..." He hesitated, then took his finger off the button. "...frell!"

Vance disappeared in a cloud of white and yellow fire, his shields immediately overloaded with the warhead the Defender pilot had hit him with. Shadow Six had peeled off and away from the path of the Defender, and Shooter and Dragon screamed in underneath him, giving chase to the rogue pilot.

"Frell Dragon don't ask me if you can shoot him! Slag that son of a bith!" The Maneater tore through space as Jackal brough his TIE around and formed up on her starboard wingtip.

Bette jabbed her thumb on her lasers, green fire lancing out towards the Defender. Unfortunately he was pulling away from them, arcing back towards the middle of the vast battlefield. "Don't lose him!"

The TIE pilot was flying straight towards Watcher Squadron.

Ulrhik wanted to retort but he decided questions concerning protocol could wait under the circumstances. Clenching his teeth, Ulrhik diverted all power from his worthless, at least how he saw them, shields to his engines as he maintained course with Shooter but on a sharper angle. The Defender flashed across his sites as Dragon had anticipated and green lasers flashed against the shields of the defender but little more. The moment was over and Dragon could see that he wouldn't have another shot at the time as cross fire was about to become an issue.

"Shooter, incoming squadron, we have the lead but the pilot is heading right for them. Suggesting we pull off to prevent any collisions."

(OOC: I left out some info in my last post regarding the Mindflayer. She [U]is not[/I] an SD, she’s a carrack-class cruiser)

“Sir, Captain Kellison is sending Shadow Squadron to escort us in.”

Tel’s brow furrowed in confusion. Kellison? Who’s Kellison? I thought Farard was Captain of that ship. She must have taken a hit to the Command Deck. Once again Balades found himself relieved that his own carrack-class vessel had the bridge located deeper within her superstructure.

As Mindflayer limped on, the remaining ships of the 31st, a pair of gunships and a lone Lance-class Frigate, reformed around the damaged cruiser. Other crippled and lost ships drifted by, their commanders dead or cut off from communication. Hundreds of lifeless bodies littered space, many being haphazardly smashed into by debris and active vessels alike.

In an instant the morbid silence was broken when forward cameras showed a Defender blasting away at the Shadows and Watchers. An indignant cry arose from weary crew.

Tel whirled to face a makeshift weapons station, the motion leaving him slightly dizzy.

“How many guns do we have left?”

“…uhhh…..a turbolaser battery or two and about half our cannons.” A flushed ensign, replacing the dead weapons officer, looked nervously at Tel. “There’s a coolant leak in the capacitors, if we shoot, the guns might overload.”

The commander’s glare fixed on the traitor pilot darting among the Interceptors. “Frell” Tel shifted his eyes to a second screen showing the Osiris on Mindflayer’s starboard flank. The Lancer’s sole purpose was to wipe out starfighters. Her quadlaser towers could decimate a squadron in second, the only problem the turret’s limited range.

Tel opened a tight-beam transmission to the fighter squadrons. “Shadows and Watchers Osiris will engage.”

"Right with ya Boss." Aliya brought her TIE in formation, following Val's lead. Unfortunately, the adrenaline rush would have to wait. Not an exciting job but escorting this cruiser was just as important. Orders were orders, and she kept her eyes peeled between her HUD and the situation outside in space incase anything new decided to try and drop in on them.

Things happened ungodly fast in a dogfight. Watcher Squadron was screaming toward the fracas in a five-man diamond slot formation. Usually the sight of twenty guns facing in one direction was a deterrent to an advancing enemy, but this Defender wasn't thinking on such a high level. His six guns began spewing a hail of fire at the incoming squints--Banshee's fighter went up in an incandescent flash.

Tannis flinched at the loss of another pilot, but he held his tongue. He took an instant to glance at the tactical radar--Shadow squadron was peeling off to avoid a collision, but the rogue pilot seemed to have no such reservations. It did mean, however, that they were no longer in danger of friendly fire if the Watchers engaged.

"We're in the clear--break to starboard and open fire!"

There was a split-second window of opportunity. The space in front of Watcher Squadron filled with green rounds, but none of them struck more than a glancing blow. As the rogue pilot rocketed by, Tannis spun his fighter to port to keep the maverick in his sights and squeezed his trigger again--two, three more blasts struck the Defender's shields. The pilot veered away from the stinging hail of laserfire and back into the field of battle--exactly as Tannis wanted.

"Shadows--I suggest we corral him toward Osiris so she can bring her anti-fighter turrets to bear."

Bette nodded, bringing her TIE around and to starboard, Shadows Eight and Six mirroring her moves. "Agreed, Watcher Lead. Dragon and Jackal, you heard the man. I'll lead him in, you two get his six. Work with the Watchers."

She accelerated, dropping her Interceptor nearly into the path of the incoming Defender. Angling her head, she saw him pass over her, and then he took the bait, swinging around and firing lasers at her.

Putting her TIE into a spin, she evaded and flew towards Osiris. It looked like he'd used up his last warhead on Ripper.

Tod shifted restlesslty in his seat. He hated having to babysit people. If it were up to him, he'd abolish escort duty and commission some kind of automated fighter to do all the boring missions.

'This wouldn't be so bad if we had some speed. Can't that piece of crap move its wide load any quicker? I'm killing myself here!'

On his HUD, Tod noticed the rogue fighter was moving towards the Mindflayer, and its frigate escort was positioning itself between the two.

'Well at least we don't need to hold their hand.'

Zachariah clicked his comm to confirm Davis' command and then fired his thrusters up to full. "Stay with me, Dragon" He issued over the comm as the two of them gained on the defender's tail. "That girl's crazy" He said to himself as he watched his supperior offier place herself in the defender's line of fire.

Zach cut his shields down to 50% and applied the energy left over to his thrusters. He finaly reached maximum firing range, but he still held his fire. Dragon could shoot as much as he wanted. He waited a few moments until the rogue fighter was flying straight for the moment and then he opened fire. A singe pair of green laser bolts connected with the defender but was repelled by its shields.

He let out a series of curses and opened up his lasers on the fighter. He had fogotten about the Defender's shields and he knew that single , accurate shots were not going to help here. He pressed his fingers down on the triggers and opened fire apon the defender but it's shields still held.

Dragon tried to ignore Jackal while at the same time staying aware of him. His wingmate let forth a slew of green lasers that kept pressure on the defender's shields but was starting to lead Ulrhik to the conclusion that there might be more than one insane pilot out here. His comm opened to Jackal,

"Shadow Eight, cease fire. You're risking our Wing Commander."

Shooter was leading the defender on and Godsend had observed more than a few glancing lasers go her direction unintentionally from Jackal. They just needed to lure the defender to the Osiris. He switched his comm over to the Watcher Leader.

"This is Shadow Six to Watcher Lead. My wingmate and I have the pilot from his six, Shadow Three is leading him in. Let's not allow him out of this one."

Not to mention if Shooter died before the defender did, Ulrhik would blame the Watchers for taking their sweet time. One to lead, two to follow, and five hopefully closing in? Only Watcher Leader looked like he had enough skill to pull up on the defender.

Tannis's bootleg maneuver had sacrificed a lot of speed. He gunned his engines, and his craft lurched against its own backwards momentum. He had no shields to take away from engine power, so he dumped his weapons energy into engines and fought the G-forces as his velocity climbed past the zero mark to full speed at nearly the theoretical limit of his ship's acceleration.

About three percent more acceleration, and he would've blacked out. Tannis liked to leave himself a small margin of error.

Now he was up to speed, but he still had a lot of distance to close between himself and the pursuit. His remaining three Watchers, meanwhile, hadn't decelerated at all and were pulling a lazy arc around the portside, trying to come about. They were practically out of the race now.

"Roger, Shadow Six, bringing my vessel to bear. However, may I respectfully submit to your wingleader that the odds of surviving an unchallenged pursuit by a TIE Defender are approximately thirty-five to one. Given the pilot's single-minded nature, I believe he may be confused if presented with mulitple targets, or at the least, multiple threats."

Tod struck his helmet with his gloved hands several times. He screamed. The sound rang in his ears for a few seconds before dissipating fully. Escorting the crippled ship was painfully slow for Tod - he's Corellian. He had half a mind to fly off and do something else. The only problem was there was nothing else to do. With a sigh, he fingered the comm button.

'Permission to kill myself, Shadow Two!'

Maniac rested his head on the back of the chair.

Aliya never found herself chuckling while in formation or on a run with her wing mates. Professionalism was key to her survival in the Imperial Navy. But she couldn't help laughing. Maniac was living up up to the reputation that his call sign suggested.

She flipped her own comm on.

"If it means I get a promotion outta this, I say agree to it Shadow Two."

Bette ignored the comm chatter, concentrating on manuevering her Interceptor in front of the crazed Defender. She flipped switches, routing all power away from her forward shields and into the aft shields that were taking a beating from the Defender's lasers.

Turning a bit of attention back to the comm she yelled, "Shadow Three to Osiris, we're coming in hot on your two! Repeat, we are coming in hot!" Bette spiraled up and angled in towards the Lancer frigate, the Defender screaming in behind her, nearly on top of the Maneater.

"Shadows - don't follow too closely! That frigate could accidentally vape you all." She knew her only hope in distancing herself would be to pull a wacky evasive manuever and hope that the Defender pilot wouldn't be able to compensate in time.

Tel watched Shadow squadron herd the rogue Defender towards the Osiris. The pilot was either to focused on the fighters swarming around him, or was too caught up in whatever frenzy caused him to turn traitor, to notice the ever growing bulk of the boxy frigate.

For a moment he thought why a Tie Defender pilot, a coveted position among the Fighter Corp, would betray the Empire. Perhaps he or she was a rebel. Either way, the only thing that pilot will get is a swift death.

“What the Frell. He’s accelerating.” Sure enough the Defender pilot picked up it’s pace, accelerating straight towards the frigate. “The guy’s suicidal.”

Tel stared at the oncoming fighter, trying to track her vector Damit; he’s trying to cut the gun-tower angles. The pilot would probably try and skim the hull of the Osiris to force the gunners to crank their turrets to their maximum angles

“Shadows get out of there, now.”

With only a second's hesitation, twenty quadlaser turrets opened fire.

Zachariah ceased firing and simply followed close behind the rogue fighter as they herded it towards the Osiris. “Shadows get out of there, now.” A voice crackled over the comm. Zach pulled back on the yoke and sent his ship into a vertical climb that pinned him against the repulsor couch. He left the line of fire just as the Osiris' cannon's opened fire.

He slowed down and leveled out his fighter. He turned it to face where he had last seen the Defender but all he could see was the green laser bolts that flew from the Osiris.

Ulrhik heard the command from whomever and not a moment later, a barrage of energy had lit up the vicinity in which his TIE was about to enter. He began heavy evasive maneuvers, ripping his Interceptor upwards as he danced around a column of fatal energy. A scream let loose on the comm but Dragon paid no mind. Survival was key and his odds of it were rapidly diminishing. He pulled a hard turn to starboard and his Interceptor rolled out of the danger zone. He turned on an edge to come around and view what would remain of the TIE defender but was shocked to see that it was still managing. At least for another parsec.

"The Emperor ca-"

The comm fuzzed as the defender was knocked to one side and a lance of green shattered the cockpit in the center. The engines combusted and Dragon checked the radar. A Watcher had been caught in the cross fire. One always had to die, it did not matter what was going on, whether it was a training exercise or a full blown massacre. One TIE pilot always died. Dragon had never seen otherwise.

"Shadow Six, reporting, target destruction confirmed."

Rails watched the rear sensor closely as the target disappeared and the confirmation came through. He quickly turned his attention back to scanning the debris.

The sleek Interceptor trailed along the darkened, scarred, hull of an MC80. The CMD display showed minimal systems, no shields and critical damage. Raan scanned the viewport for the crippled leviathan's starboard hanger, it was there intact but inactive from his current angle. It didn't mean that a starfighter or two weren't hiding inside.

He opened up the flight channel, "Five, I got nothing form the outside of the cruiser. I'm going to make run by the hanger and take a look inside. Stilletto can you watch my back."

Upon confirmation of the defender having been destroyed, Val closed his eyes and signed.

"Good work, Shadows."

For a moment, Val stared out of his viewport to where he could see the glowing remains of the defender drifting in all directions. He smashed his fist against the control console, then toyed with his sensors.

"Shadow Three, could you take your wing in the opposite direction to Wing One and check that area out? Wing One, keep up your search. My wing, we stick with the Mindflayer" He said, with a hint of resentment.

Her transparisteel viewscreen darkened against the brightness of the explosion as the Osiris' guns found their target. Shooter's manuever had sent her careening beneath the Lancer frigate, and she looped up and buzzed over Shadow Two.

"Roger that Razor. Six, Eight, stop your lollygaggling." Her tone seemed artificially lighthearted as she came back around, rejoining what was left of her wing.

The three Watcher pilots were formed up, one of the TIE pilots audibly shaken as he yelled at Watcher lead about their comrade who'd gotten caught in the turbolaser fire from the Osiris. Bette sighed, fiddling with her sensors as she led her wing out towards the Death Star. "Shadows, I suggest we switch to comm channel five oh seven."

"No need, Shadow Two," came the voice of Watcher Leader. "Everything is under control here." His upset pilot was silent once more. "Have you heard from the Timocracy?"

Bette narrowed her eyes, "Negative Watcher Lead. We can check it out though. Could be their comm system just went down. Care to join?"

Zachariah was glad the fighter was destroyed, but at what cost? A single fighter had caused the death of several fighters, only one from his wing but the Watchers lost several. It didn't feel like a victory in the slightest. "Roger that, Shooter" He said over the comm before pulling his ship around and flying in behind Shadow two and awaiting further orders.

The tinge in the voice over the comm was almost hard to discern but Ulrhik caught it. He pulled up to Shooter's wing and maintained his position as their next objective was being decided.

Dragon felt compelled to disect Shooter's response, unsure if it was for a hope that it was more passion for her comrades than weak sentimentalism. Many might argue that they were the same but Dragon had decided that there was a clear difference between the two when it came to TIE pilots and their squads.

Tod was pretending to hyperventilate in his atmospheric suit when something caught his attention on his ships HUD. A drifting hulk - a Mon Calimari starcruiser dead in space. All systems were dead except for engines, though they might has well have been. The main engines were - technically - online, but the amount of power getting through would have barely moved a fat woman away from an all-you-can-eat buffét. Nevertheless, there was a huge red heat signature coming from the remains of the cruiser. Tod wondered if any of it was salvageable. Plus he was bored out of his mind.

'Shadow Two, this is Twelve. Due to the relatively high activity of my mind, I'm vacating sector B-O-RING and investigating the crippled cruiser, identification number three-five-seven-zero-dash-nine, over.'

Tod grabbed his yoke and increased power to the engines.

'Shadow Two, this is Twelve. Due to the relatively high activity of my mind, I'm vacating sector B-O-RING and investigating...'

Kellison, turning a particularly bright shade of red, pushed the communications officer out of his chair, taking a seat so he could personally browbeat the pilot.

"NEGATIVE, Colonel Marr, you will get back to the Mindflayer and finish your escort assignment. And if you continue to chase every pretty light you see I'll demote you to hood ornament and strap you to the nose of this ship, do you understand me?!"

"He paused for a moment, hoping to regain some composure.

"Davis, Torre! If you don't keep your wings under control I'll send word to the Admiral and have him supply me with some pilots who can!"

Tod screamed. He brought his ship back into position with the Mindflayer. Beneath his helmet he gritted his teeth and snarled at the Captain, despite not being able to look him in the face. Even if he could see his face, he wouldn't do it. Behind his back - sure! The main comm channel was off, but the squadron channel was active.

'Yes sir! Absolutely Captain Kellison! CAPTAIN Kellison! Affirmative Captain-who-is-below-Admiral-Kellison. Captain Kellison, who is so incompetent, he has not yet been promoted. Up yours!'

He looked at the dead cruisers heat signature one more time before putting it to the back of his mind. Matching speed with the rest of his wing, Tod activated the main channel.

'Confirm that, Mindflayer. Resuming assignment'.

There was blatant contempt in Tod's voice. He deliberately addressed the ship as a whole rather than the Captain specifically. Tod waited for the reply which would no doubt remind him of who he was speaking to.

'I wouldn't mind flaying him!', he said over the squadron channel.

Bette jumped in on the main comm, "Commander Kellison, we have Watcher Squadron from the Timocracy, and they haven't heard from her since the Rebels bugged out, sir. Oh, I apologize, Captain.."

She was flying parallel to the Osiris, but above the ship. "Asking permission to recon further out, and see if we can't locate them."

No living soul on the bridge had celebrated the Defender’s destruction. The battle for Endor had gone too sourly for such a minor victory, if you could call it that, to do any moral raising.

…..oh, I apologize, captain…” It seemed as if only the pilots had any enthusiasm left. Damn fighter jockeys were always in high spirits, but they had little respect for the chain of command. Tel figured that even with inertial compensators, the G-forces still got to their heads.

“Ensign, push the engines are far as you can, I’m tired of listening to whining children.”

“The escort is appreciated Shadows, we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.. Captain, any word from the Executor? We've been out of contact with the galaxy for the last couple of hours”

"Affirmative, Davis. Take Wing Three out to scout and report. "

He gave a slight smile of satisfaction. Davis, at least, seemd to be repecting him more now that he was a Captain. Every little bit helped. By all rights, he should hand over control of Shadow Squadron to one of his subordinates, now that he had an entire ISD as his reponsibility, but he felt that the pilots needed his personal guidance.

Balades broke in over the channel.

"Captain, any word from the Executor? We've been out of contact with the galaxy for the last couple of hours”

He paused for a moment before making his reply. "By the Empire, Balades, didn't anyone inform you yet? The Executor went down during the battle. Admirel Piett and all the other fine men abord...were lost."

"By the Empire, Balades, didn't anyone inform you yet? The Executor went down during the battle. Admiral Piett and all the other fine men aboard...were lost."

A shocked silence filled the bridge. Tel felt the eyes of few dozen people focused on him. The Commander slumped into a make-shift command chair, eyes staring at scuffed jackboots. Executer had Silence reigned for several minutes before he looked back at wide-eyed faces. Many of the crew leaned on their consoles for support.

“The Emperor. What about the Emperor?” A hushed whisper, laced with fear. Tel couldn’t identify whom the voice belong to, everyone had been thinking the same.

Click….whirrrrrrrrrr

Another nameless officer at the sensor station called up the central holoprojector. A few taps on the panel zoomed the image in on a wrecked Death Star. Tel’s eyes fell, despair was felt across the bridge.

Anger slowly clouded across the Commander’s deep brown eyes.

The rebels will pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.

Inwardly, Tannis cursed the loss of another squadmate. It was Watcher Two, or Journeyman, as he'd been called. An old hand, as old hand as a TIE pilot could get, at any rate--rock-steady, unambitious, and content to fly support for the young hotshots on every squadron he flew with. He'd known better than to fly into the firing cone of a friendly turbolaser--it had been a mistake borne of fatigue, a mistake that had kept him from joining the exclusive ranks of retired TIE pilots.

Now the remaining Watchers were flying off the port flank of Bette's wing, mirroring the Shadows' delta formation. "I appreciate your help, Shadow Two," Tannis radioed to Bette. "I have a request I would like you to pass on to your deck chief on the Termagant. We have been flying for nearly sixteen hours and have been out of contact with our mothership for the past six. I would be grateful if the Termagant could grant my squadmates a temporary berth until we locate Timocracy. In the meantime, I would be honored to form on your wing and render any assistance you may require."

It was possible that Timocracy's communication tower had been disabled, and that the debris was scrambling her IFF to the point that the Watchers couldn't read it. But Tannis feared the worst. It would take time for a list of disabled and destroyed starships to be assembled. He couldn't afford to wait any longer before ensuring his pilots' safety.

Jason had been silent most of the trip just following the lead "rails". There was no real excitement in Jason at this point due to no real action and being tired. He thought on how disappointed his father would be of him at this time, even though he really didn't care how his father thought. The comm broke silence then as "rails" spoke.

"Five, I got nothing form the outside of the cruiser. I'm going to make run by the hanger and take a look inside. Stilletto can you watch my back."

Jason stayed silent for a minute almost in a half sleep from boredom. He wondered what exactly "rails" wanted him to do, he figured he wanted him to follow but he didn't make any hasty assumptions.

"Five here do you want me to follow or just stand guard and continue my nap?"

"Understood Watcher Lead." Bette stared at her comm, then at her sensors, wondering at the bloom of heat in the center of the Mon Cal cruiser that was coming up portside of the Osiris. "You hear that, Captain Kellison? We have two pilots who need berth for the moment, with your permission."

Waiting for Termagant to reply, she flicked the comm to a private channel between herself and Watcher Lead. "Your own fuel cells are probably low too, and I'm not talking about your body. How's that fighter doing? If you run out of fuel on the way to Timocracy..."

The comm crackled, "Permission given; the Watchers are cleared for landing in bay oh-one-eight-eight. Good hunting, Shadows." The voice was that of the communication ensign, and the two TIEs split out of formation. Shooter sighed, her question to Watcher Lead unanswered. "C'mon Dragon and Jackal, let's go find us a Destroyer."

Wing Three peeled away from Osiris, heading back towards the center of the battle field, and the heavily damaged Death Star. Watcher Lead fell into Vance's former position.

"Outcast, vector to the engines." Raan said through the flight com, "We'll form up and move out, you take point."

The two interceptors were making the transition from plating to hanger on the hull by the end of the transmission. A quick glance outside the viewport revealed what was to be expected, an inactive, and darkened bay.

"Nothing." Rails said over the com as he passed the bay. "You see anything four?"

Wzzzzzzt…..zzzzzzzzt

Sparks flew.

“How’s it going back there, R4?”

Repairs should be completed within the next 30 standard minutes_

“Ok, just keep doing your best. I’m sure we’ll be out of this mess in no time.”

The confidence in his voice wasn’t representative of the chaos that was churning inside him. It had been almost 3 hours since the Rebel fleet had signaled the retreat and engaged their hyperspace drives. At least those that could do so had.

Hunk was not one of these. He had followed Brown 4 to the edge of the battlefield when the call had come over the comm, but had found out too late that an earlier attack had knocked his hyperdrive out of commission. After a quick search, Hunk took shelter in the hanger bay of a derelict Mon Calimari cruiser. There, in the remains of the giant ship, he had lain far back in empty bay, ship powered down, hoping to avoid detection. Thankfully, it had kept him hidden this long. The hangar’s lone survivor, an R2 unit, now aided his own R4 droid in the repair effort.

He could only hope they succeeded, and succeeded fast—his life support system would fail soon. He checked the gauges.

20 minutes.

As he saw it, he had two choices. He could send out a distress signal, get the Imperials’ attention and be taken prisoner, or he could emerge from the hanger bay, blasters blazing. To waste away in an Imperial work camp or go out in a blaze of glory, which would be a better way to end his life? He still had 20 minutes to decide.

He checked again. Scratch that, 19 minutes.

He briefly wondered if any other pilots were hiding among the wreckage as he had. He wondered if survivors still lingered in some of the inner chambers of this very cruiser.

His ship’s computer essentially shut down, he was dependent on visual scanning. A few minutes ago, he had witnessed a brief firefight, green laser blasts lighting up the orbiting graveyard.

10 minutes left? Where did the time go?

A pair of TIEs broke off, approaching his haven. Hunk forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly, despite his anxiety. For better or worse, the end would be here soon enough.

“Any time now, R4.”

"Roger Shooter."

Dragon pulled his interceptor to the side and maintained Davis' wing. After listening to all the comm traffic, Ulrhik tried to catch all the inflections, picking up on small things. Such as... Kellison reminded Godsend of a fat mynock. Sucking up power, bothering the dren out of pilots, but protected enough not to get blasted.

And searching for a Destroyer? Nothing in the broken battlefield looked like it could sustain life, at least not for much longer.

There was a dull blipping coming from his sensors, Val glanced at it long enough to take note of the readings and then the signal was gone. He frowned.

"Five, Nine, Twelve; begin an acute sensor sweep of this region. You should be recieving the co-ordinates... now."

Val reprogrammed his sensors to focus on the area from whence the signal had originated. He waited, his eyes fixed on the sensor readings.

"Something isn't right here, guys. There's too much interference. Follow my lead!"

He tugged as his hand-yokes and pushed down on his accelartion pedals; The Fat Lady lurched forward, gaining speed as it raced along the length of the cruiser then with a gentle lean to the side, veered of towards the Osiris.

"Here we go..."

His index finger wrapped around a red trigger and pulled. A missile errupted forth from his ship and sailed off towards the portside of the lancer frigate. He waited, his hands clammy inside his gloves, his breathing ceased. The missile disappeared out of sight, it's trail beginning to fade, there was silence over the voice comms. Then his sensors flashed red indicating missile impact.

"Mines!" He bellowed over the voice comms. On cue, an emormous ball of red fire exploded from where the missile had been headed, the explosion silent across the distance of space.

"Minefield in Sector Theta-Nine-Five. Evaisive manouvers! My wing on me, we're moving in! Let's take 'em out!"

'Finally, a reason to live!'

Tod simultaneously engaged his main engines and activated his wing comm channel.

'Copy that, Shadow Two, I'm right behind you.'

YEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAWW!!!!!!!!!!!!. Tod screamed into his comm system as his fighter soared towards the mine field. Due to interference the scanners could not give an accurate readout, but from what he could see there seemed to be several hundred mines.

'Hey Val, check out the darker ones. They kinda look like cluster charges.'

Zach followed close behind Davis' fighter and kept an eye on his sensors screen aswell as a close watch on the view outside his cockpit.

"Minefield in Sector Theta-Nine-Five. Evaisive manouvers." Came the frantic but stern voice of one of the other shadow squardron pilots.

"Great," He said to himself, "As if the dead couldn't get any betten and now we got mines. What else could make this day any better? Perhaps a group of Mon calamari cruisers will exit hyper space and blow us to little bits." He let out a sigh and returned his attention to his readouts.

Quote:

---

"Your own fuel cells are probably low too, and I'm not talking about your body. How's that fighter doing? If you run out of fuel on the way to Timocracy..."

---

Tannis scanned briefly over his gauges to make sure nothing had changed, then quoted his ship's status from memory. "My squadron and I were fully provisioned before launching. At standard patrol speeds, my primary fuel reserves should last for another twelve hours, life support for another thirty-four. I will advise you if my consumables drop below safe levels."

With that, he settled into the fourth position on Shooter's wing and listened idly to the comm. chatter while he scanned the wreckage for the Timocracy's beacon. Shadow Eight... "Jackal," the IFF read... was complaining about booby traps while the pilot who'd been screaming at the captain was now charging recklessly into a minefield. Force, wasn't this Shadow Squadron? Tannis would have expected more discipline from the Empire's finest.

"Watcher Leader to Shadow Three. Still no sign of Timocracy's IFF on standard or emergency channels. Her tranceivers must be out of commision."

Which meant they were looking for one of two things... a star destroyer disabled beyond electronic recognition or a cloud of debris. Either way, what was left of Watcher Squadron didn't have much of a home to return to.

"Copy what Maniac picked up. I'm getting the same readings." Aliya let up on the engines. She was gritting her teeth at the situation. "There's no way we can take out all the mines Shadow Two. I suggest clearing a path for our ship as best we can to minimize impact."

Quote:

---

"Watcher Leader to Shadow Three. Still no sign of Timocracy's IFF on standard or emergency channels. Her tranceivers must be out of commision."

---

Bette nodded, eyeing the IFF readout on Watcher Leader. Professor, it proclaimed. "Roger that, Watcher Lead. Call me Shooter."

Fading out behind them on her HUD lay the Mindflayer and it's escort of smaller ships and TIEs. There was a sudden flurry of heat signatures that indicated explosions. "What the frell." Her hand hesitated on the stick as she considered pulling around and -

And probably getting them all killed. The comm filled with static and chatter.

"Minefield in Sector Theta-Nine-Five. Evaisive manouvers."

"Copy that, Shadow Two -" Maniac's words were cut off as he abruptly switched to a private channel for his wing only.

Bette breathed slowly through her mouth, and spoke on Wing Three's comm channel. "Eyes up, Shadows, and stay sharp. No telling what's been left behind. We'll head for the Death Star, and loop around."

She gunned the accellerator, flying faster than might have been prudent considering the amount of debris floating around. The shields would take the small fragments, the larger ones she could fly around.

Ulrhik sighed as he followed Shooter's lead. His own mind worked feverously as he tried to say two steps ahead of everything wanting to collide with the fragile frame of the interceptor. The other Wing did not sound like it was going to have any luck either, an entire minefield still waiting for them. But if Shooter wanted to play the game on higher stakes, Ulrhik was not going to deny her that indulgence.

Knocking the throttle to full and diverting power from his weapons to his inertial compensator, Ulrhik could hear his engines roar like his callsign as he barrel rolled over an obstacle, turning sharper than usually possible to get around the next and then dodge about again to maintain his position on Shooter's wing.

"Copy that. Proximity mines and cluster charges. Rebel standard, Shadows, adjust your target sensors to scan for these radiation signatures. Transfering readings... now."

The targeting computer which had dropped down in front of Val's helmet visor had identified a mine field of about one hundred mines. They were dangerously close to the Osiris which had commenced evaisive manouvers. Val nearly choked on his own spit when he saw the latest sensor readings.

"This is Shadow Two to the Osiris. Avert your course! Terminate your current direction - you're heading right into the minefield, damnit!"

The Fat Lady fell into a nosedive and raced alongside the Osiris, all eight laser canons raining green fire into the dark abyss. There was a string of explosions as four mines were destroyed. Razor's clammy fingers wrapped tighter around his control yokes.

"My wing, follow my lead. We need to clear a way for the Osiris before it's too late."

It was time. Do or die. For better or worse, it would end here. Right now.

“Time’s up, R4. Better strap yourself back in. I have a feeling things might get a little rough out there.”

With his face set in a hopeless grimace, Hunk started his X-Wing up, powered up the weapons and stabilized the shields. His HUD showed R4 back in its bay, locked in. The other astromech unit, sadly, would have to be left behind; with any hope he’d be captured by the Imperials and not left as space junk. With no time to waste on stealth, he jammed the throttle forward, shooting out of the hangar like a bullet, right past the viewing field of one of the patrolling Interceptors, which was immediately on his tail, with blasters blazing.

Suddenly the battlefield exploded with light as multiple mines exploded in the path of a cruiser. What was this, divine intervention? If Hunk believed in any gods, he would have whispered a prayer to them at that moment for the timely distraction. He hoped that any other fighters in the area would ignore him.

R4 had indicated that the hyperdrive was functioning again but there was only one way to find out. He set in the shortest course to the edge of the battlefield, now if only he could survive long enough to make it there…

As they shot towards the Death Star, Bette's hands tightened on the stick as she thought about Ripper. And Shadow Leader, and all the other pilots they'd lost that day.

A flicker on her HUD - "We've got incoming from hyperspace, nine o'clock starboard."

"The Rebels again, sir?" Jackal sounded tense over the comm.

There wasn't enough time to answer before five large cruisers winked into exsistance a safe distance from the moon and the battlefield. Shooter sighed in relief, and keyed the comm, "Negative, Jackal, looks like S and R ships here to help salvage the battlefield. About frelling time."

She jinked up to avoid flying through a dead pilot in an orange jumpsuit. The flotsam and jetsam of the battle included a few unidentifiable body parts, and occasionally a pilot would eject from their fighter, and hope that someone would pick them up before their oxygen ran out. Looked like the body she'd just evaded was one of the latter.

"Professor, I don't see anything out here big enough to be an ISD. Think they might have jumped without you?"

Tannis divided his concentration between his sensor scopes and the forward viewport as he followed Wing Three through the morass of debris. Unlike his impromptu wingmates, he didn't have shields, and even a small collision could send him spinning out of control. Space dust and flecks of metal peppered his canopy glass like a steady rain.

He was about to answer Shadow Three's question when he spotted a large cross-section of a capital ship's hull--Star Destroyer, by the looks of it. Quickly, he pinged it with his sensors to see if there were any active wireless systems running that could respond at short range.

There were. The signal was faint, barely anything but static, but the ID code was unmistakeable.

"Negative, Shooter," Tannis said, his voice sounding weary for the first time. "We've found her. We've been flying through her debris for the last five minutes."

The TIE Interceptor screamed past Shadow Two's fighter, towards the minefield. Todd opened fire on the small objects that lay idle in space. His shots collided with them, causing them to explode safely away from the Osiris.

'Val, I got a bad feeling we're not gonna clear these mines in time...'

"Negative, Shooter. We've found her. We've been flying through her debris for the last five minutes."

Zak felt like saying something encouraging to Watcher leader, but he couldn't form words and just sat in silence. A few uncomfortable moments passed before Zak finaly clicked on his comm, "Thats another fifty thousand valiant men and women to add to the list." It was a sobering thought. That so many people had died with that ship.

He returned his attention to reality in time to realize that he had slowed down and drifted away from his wing. "Jackal, get back in position." Came Davis' voice over his comm. Zak was about to fire up his thrusted when his sensors blared.

A heat signature lit up on his sensor, comming from a chunk of debris that resembled the rear section of a star destroyer and, as it turned out, it was. A singe engine shaft was still attached to the debris chunk. Something must have activated the engine and now it was speeding towards the rest of his wing.

Zak yelled a warning to his comrades before pulled back on his yoke and sending his fighter upwards, towards the speeding chunk of debris. His ship continued to climb until he was right over the flaring engine. He turned his fight around and locked unto the main shaft of the exposed engine. His face scowled in concentration as his fingers pulled back on the firing triggers.

Lances of green light shot from his ships cannons and flew straight were he wanted. His first few volleys seemed to do nothing, but he wasn't going to let the debris rocket destroy his wing, even though he knew they would move in time, the engine could still cause damage to other imperial ships and equipment. He continued to fire until, finaly, the engine's fire burned out and then the shaft exploded. Luckily, for his wing- especialy the watcher, the explosion only threw debris in his direction. Unlucky for him; it was all headed straight for him.

He sent his fighter into a series of dives and spins and gritted his teeth when something pinged against his shields. A few more moments passed and he finaly cleared the debris cloud the engine exposion had produced and headed back to his wing's last position.

Ulrhik just got a glance of Jackal's close encounter as he maintained his position on Davis' wing. Things like that happened, some people died, some did not. To not die, an attribute familiar to those who flew in Shadow Squadron? Or merely a gift that belonged to only a select few pilots. Ulrhik could have gone on contemplating but he turned his attention rather to the debris about him.

The Timocracy was merely rubble now. From the scorch marks that he could see, the salvage teams would have enough trouble finding much of anything intact or useful other than scrap metal. The garbage left over was symbolic of the battle, at least to some degree for Ulrhik. He hadn't participated but he could see what had come of it. What loss.

"Shooter. Orders? The comm's traffic is full with the other squads."

Aliya followed suit, heading the opposite direction of Maniac to start clearing a path. It was child's play to take out the mines from a safe distance, but Maniac had picked up on the real problem. The Osiris was coming up on the minefield too fast.

"Shadow Two. Either we need another wing or that Destroyer needs to slow down." She gritted her teeth as one of the mines exploded, the brilliant orange yellow ball illuminated her cockpit briefly. "And even then, not sure if that's gonna help."

"Outcast, vector to the engines." Raan said through the flight com, "We'll form up and move out, you take point."

"Can do Paco!"

Jason moved up to point as they went plating to plating. The ship look pretty dead to Jason but he contiued his scan. He wasn't even sure what exactly they where looking for out here all the action was happening else where.

"It looks pretty dead to me!"

She pursed her lips, and opened the comm channel. "We located Timocracy, so let's leave an ident beacon for the S&R ships and call it a day."

Bette pulled back on the stick, and turned the ManEater in a tight vertical loop so she was facing back the way they'd come. Depressing a small green button, there was a popping sound as a homing beacon shot out from the side of the Interceptor. She twisted her head to watch the little bit of metal arc towards the nearest bit of hull.

When it landed it stuck firmly, and she activated it. "Now we just let the cruisers know what the beacon frequency is, and we're all done. Shadows, let's head home."