| Friendly Fire - LCM Josef Hassan
The silky smooth voice of the ships computer always had a calming effect on him.
“<< WARNING INCOMING MISSILE >>”
“Damn …”.
He pulled back hard on the flight stick, cut thrust to a third, squeezed off a several rounds of chaff, slammed the throttle to max and dumped all available power into the engines. It was an aggressive maneuver, but it wasn’t fast enough. The ship lurched forward tearing his hands from the flight controls and slamming him back into his seat as the missile exploded in the chaff cloud behind him. His disorientation didn’t last long; he didn’t have time for that.
“<< WARNING INCOMING MISSILE >>”
“Holy shi…” He didn’t have time to complete his summery of the situation.
The second missile impacted on the top of the ship. He was torn from his seat ripping the safety straps out of their harnesses and cracking his head against the upper bulkhead. Stars danced in front of his eyes before being covered in the blood streaming from beneath his helmet, his ears screamed as the full force of a compression shock wave made its effects known.
He could hear a rhythmic thumping somewhere in the distance. He remembered something aching but he couldn’t remember where. He could hear the sirens in the distance getting closer. Maybe it was the thought police coming to get his father, the family always knew it would happen one day, ever since he had started writing that column in The Dark Sentinel, a small journal published by a group calling itself the Emperors Hammer. Everybody laughed at that, the emperor had been dead for years, ever since the battle of Endor. People said it was a joke or a political satire or something, but we never got to find out because it was quickly outlawed everywhere. Or maybe it was the fire brigade on their way to yet another “incident”. He would know soon enough they were almost outside the house. It’s a bit strange that they were sounding their sirens so loud at this time of night especially in a neighborhood like this one, there were sure to be complaints. The pillow was pressing down hard on his
“<< …rniNG SHIELD STRENGTH CRITICAL >>”
“<< WARNING CRITICAL SYSTEMS FAILURE >>”
There were warning lights going off everywhere. Max blinked as more blood streamed down into his eyes. He reached up to try to stem the flow from the cut but only succeeded pressing his helmet down more firmly onto the wound. The pain was intense.
The ship shook and several flashes of green light streaked past in front of the cockpit. Max knew instantly that he was under fire. His response was automatic, muscle memory from the long hours of training at the Daedalus. The opponent, whoever he was, had probably overshot, circled round and was now firing on him, a sitting duck if ever there was one. Max stamped down on the right rudder pedal and pulled back and to the left on the flight stick. The ship whipped round and over the enemy ship and as he did so he got a glimpse of what looked like a TIE Advanced fighter. Why the hell is a T/A firing at me? How come such an expert pilot is flying a T/A? Is he alone? Where did he come from? Why didn’t they appear on my RADAR? All these questions come to Max in rapid succession.
An all seeing eye, an omniscient eye, an observers eye would have seen what Max could not, that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed and top gun pilot, that it wasn’t a TIE Advanced that was attacking Max but a TIE Praetor and that his wingman was lining up for another missile lock.
“<< WARNING INCOMING MISSILE >>”
“Give me a break!” Max shouted into the intercom.
At least that was one question answered, there must be more than one, and Max had half expected it. “Always expect the worst, because it’ll probably happen” was his instructors mantra at the Academy, he was always quoting Murphy’s Law type statements at them and was deeply superstitious, although he never admitted it. Was this the result of being on the front line at Endor? Max himself had never known defeat. That was something you never trained for, how could you? Why should you? They had undergone tests that used the No Win Scenario rules but they always seemed pointless to Max “If you can’t win what’s the point?” he’d argue. When his turn came up he cheated. Sheela Discobopper was one of the SL techs in charge of running the NWS simulator tests; always partial to some Corellian Candy, Max had introduced her to the delights of Zairona ale, soft lighting, good food and romantic music. After he won the no win scenario his instructors gave him a zero on his scorecard anyway but it was
He cut back across his flight line and squeezed off more chaff.
“<< WARNING CHAFF DISPENSOR SYSTEM DAMAGED >>”
Max may not have believed in no win scenarios and he didn’t use to believe in Murphy’s Law. But now he was converted.
He kept the stick pulled back fully towards him and fixed his eyes on the RADAR screen (at least something was still working). The yellow dot of the missile closed in quickly on his position.
“<< WARNING 5 SECONDS TO IMPACT >>”
He wished he’d called Sheela again. She was pretty cut up over the whole thing, had accused him of using her to get through the exams. But the reality was that he’d been under so much pressure trying to get the top gun award at the academy that he hadn’t anytime to himself, he’d promised to get in touch as soon as it was all over. The transfer to Hunter squad all happened so quickly, first patrol within hours of arriving, everything seemed to be a blur now. Max had promised himself to mail her as soon as he got back but now it looked like that was never going to happen. Shame really because now she could say that he’d died on purpose to avoid seeing her or that he’d faked the death to run away from her or something equally ridiculous.
“<< WARNING 4 SECONDS TO IMPACT >>”
VP had shown a lot of faith in him for this mission. They were to go out on individual patrol and report anything suspicious. Max had no idea what to look for. All he got was some half-assed reports about possible defection; all very hush hush. All squads were to split up and patrol alone in order to widen the net as much as possible. “You’re on your own”, “Backup available if you should need it”, “This is a no failure scenario …”, this was all music to Max’s ears. The others had mumbled stuff like “Suicide mission”, “No chance of success”, “We might as well be flying TIE fighters against …”.
“<< WARNING 3 SECONDS TO IMPACT >>”
“What’s the difference between a Kurgan beast and a girl drunk on Zairona Ale? A Kurgan beast will eventually let go of your nuts …” His uncle Pommy had a joke for every occasion, one of the funniest guys Max knew. Like that time when they’d gone for a drink in the Metro bar in town dressed as Imperial Officers and asked if the bars papers were in order. The bartender had plied them with free drinks all nights. That always made Max smile. Pommy had a thing for drink, lived for it. So it wasn’t really surprising that he also died for it. It seemed the New Republic were just as tough on smuggling as the Imps were.
“<< WARNING 2 SECONDS TO IMPACT >>”
Max looked up as a bright flash erupted out of the darkness filling the void with a myriad of colours, an infinite rainbow stretching across the stars. The one thing that always amazed Max about this job was the beauty of space. Max looked down at the RADAR screen, the yellow dot had gone; back up out of the explosion, the T/A came rolling down towards him, end over end. Friendly fire! Max had got the T/A between himself and the missile. Max couldn’t believe his luck. He switched to full guns, lined up the target in his sites and opened fire. A direct hit. The target exploded spraying debris in every direction, IE wing parts, cockpit stabilizers, the red tint of the canopy. “Red!” that’s a … The thought came slowly but come it did. A red canopy could only mean one thing. “TIE Praetors! What the hell is going on!”
As Max considered this gunfire rained down on him from the second target above him, he switched to full engines and headed for the slowly dispersing mass of the debris field. Metal fragments, electrical components, body parts, these were just some of the things that’s ricocheted, or in some cases splattered, of his cockpit. The heavy guns of the T/Pr above him blasted the TIE parts to smithereens.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Hunter I4. I am under heavy fire from unknown targets in sector 112-45-A4, I am completely defensive, please assist over.” This was the first time he’d had any sort of respite since the contact began.
“Computer, repeat that message on all frequencies at maximum power”
The ship lurched sideways as the T/PR scored a direct hit and Max span the ship sideways out of its line of fire before climbing into attack position. “Attack is the best form of defense” another of those mantra/clichés that were always being spewed at recruits. This happened to be one Max agreed with “If I can get behind him, he can’t shoot me”, simple logic.
“<< WARNING SHIELD FAILURE >>”
The T/Pr had scored another hit as it shot past. Max flipped his T/D over and was on his tail. The Praetor had more speed but, as max diverted all power to the engines, he could keep paced with it, “I don’t need to shoot him just keep him from escaping”. His opponent slammed on the brakes but Max was ready for it and dumb-fired 2 missiles before climbing out of range of the blast wave. The T/Pr dove as Max remote detonated the missiles and felt the shudder of the explosion behind him.
“<< TARGETTING SYSTME REPAIRED >>”
“Its about bloody time! Computer, target the nearest ship” Max scanned the readout that appeared on his MFD as he dived down to follow it. “It’s a TIE Praetor alright, Imperial IFF, ID Sub-1, I guess we got our …”
Max’s voice trailed off ass he saw what it was heading for.
“<< NEW CRAFT: 1 CALAMARI CRUISER AT 6 KILOMETERS >>”
“A rebel task force. Where the hell are my reinforcements”
“<< NEW CRAFT: 6 A-WINGS AT 5 KILOMETERS >>”
“<< NEW CRAFT: 6 X-WINGS AT 4 KILOMETERS >>”
“<< NEW CRAFT: 6 B-WINGS AT 3 KILOMETERS >>”
“I guess they’re launching everything they’ve got. Must mean they’re scared of me.” Max allowed himself a wry smile.
“<< WARNING MULTIPLE MISSILE LOCKS >>”
“Not again.”
“<< CHAFF DISPENSOR SYSTEM REPAIRED >>”
“Oh thanks for the help computer.”
“Someone call for some backup?” Von Predators voice crackled over the intercom.
“Its about time! I’m in serious difficulty, shields down, hull condition critical and I’m under heavy fire!” Max wasn’t kidding.
“<< WARNING INCOMING MISSILES >>”
“Stay calm son. Take evasive action. The rest of the fleet is just moments away. You just need to hold them off for a few more seconds. I’m engaging in 5 seconds”.
Max did a 180 degree flip dumped all his remaining chaff and ran at full engine burn, corkscrewing his ship towards his wing mates.
“Branet here”
“Kai responding”
“Quake in your boots as Drake has entered the area”
“You’ve got to get that T/Pr before it gets to the Cruiser.” Said Max. “It’ll jump as soon as it’s aboard.”
“This is the SSD Avenger. All Rebel craft shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Hunter squad – keep those rebels busy we’re launching TIE’s to help. The Interdictor Anchor will be here in 5 seconds.”
While Max furiously charged up his guns and shields the rest of Hunter squad went to war.
“Missile away!”
“This is Ayalia, and you’re dead meat”
“Eat this rebel scum!”
And war is what they did. The rebels were falling like flies.
“This is the INT Anchor. We are powering up our gravity wells now”
“Too late.” The last thing Max saw as he swung his ship around was the CRS and the remaining rebel ships disappearing to a point of light in the distance. “They made it to hyperspace”
“Hunter squad, follow that trajectory immediately. Recce the area and report back at once. Hunter I4 return to the Avengers hangar at once”
Max’s first mission hadn’t exactly gone to plan. He took some consolation in the fact that there wasn’t really any plan to begin with and that he’d survived. The SAR team found plenty of rebel bodies out there but none had survived, they’d been equipped with cyanide capsules and command said that the insignia on the jackets showed that they were an elite rebel strike force. The recon squad followed the ship along its trajectory but found nothing, command said they probably made a number of jumps in quick succession which meant they had worked out there escape vectors before hand, there was no chance of following them. It seems that several T/Pr’s had been placed in storage on the Avenger awaiting transfer to the Praetorian squad but conspirators within the TC had stolen them. An operation of this kind would almost certainly need inside help.
The debate over Max’s friendly fire kill raged for a while. Most said it didn’t count. Some said it did, including Max of course; he still hadn’t broken his duck. But either way Max didn’t get the credit for it, the mission was considered top secret.
All Max had to do was wait for the next mission and if there are any certainties in this universe then its that that won’t take a very long time.
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