In the Line of Fire - LT Rei Ayanami
Volume 1.
1
Major Jon Ja’ak was used to being in the line of
fire, both in his TIE's and in office, though this time he couldn't just juke
out of harm's way. "How the hell can you let your fellow pilots fall in
battle like that?” his commander said, putting an emphasis on the third word.
Jon shrugged. "They aren't my charges,
Sir. They aren't in my squadron."
Admiral Raithen stared at the major, not quite
believing his nonchalance at his situation. "You obviously don't care
about other pilots," he said as he worked his way around the grand desk
that was the centerpiece of his office aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Class
II Vindicator. "Let's talk about something you do care
about". He paused for effect as he walked ever so crisply and stood
unyielding in front of the major, only inches from him. "Do your rank and
position sound like a good place to start?"
Jon flinched noticeably, but did not let the
blank expression from his face waver. This was worse than having an advanced
missile howling after him in a TIE Fighter without countermeasures available.
Those, he could dodge. This was an entirely different situation. "I'm
sorry, Sir," he replied, resignation evident in his voice.
"'I'm sorry' isn't enough, major. We can
not afford to obtain new pilots as if they were simply no more than
material." He paused, considering how to phrase his next statement.
"We have you and your elite pilots fly with regular pilots to help them
stand a better chance of survival. They aren't there to fly as bait for you so
you can have a turkey shoot." He looked the major straight in the eyes,
causing the major to flinch again. "Am I understood?” he asked slowly, as
if closing the discussion.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. If I receive one more report of
such actions on your behalf, I will have you court-martialed for negligence of
your duties." He walked back around to his desk and sat down in his
chair. "Dismissed."
Jon performed a perfect about-face and marched
out through the doors, his gait not betraying any emotions he may have felt.
******
Vanguard Squadron was supposed to be the best
squadron that wasn't black ops. Most of high command had wanted it to be kept
under wraps for security purposes, but their commander, Major Jon Ja'ak felt
that the unit needed to be able to get out and fight. At this point, the
pilots were preparing for an exercise in their TIE Defenders. Jon felt like
doing some formation flying so that is what they were going to do today.
As the pilots each entered their own personal
Defender, Jon thought about what Admiral Raithen had talked to him about
yesterday. He ran through his pre-flight checklist and entered his cockpit
upon completing the external part of the check. He ran through the remainder
of the rest of his checklist and then fired up his engines. He activated his
communications system and set it to an open channel. "All pilots, report
in to flight leaders when ready."
"One, Two. Three green and good to
go."
"Three here, good to go."
"One, Four. Three green." He
acknowledged the members of his flight with a click of his com-link. "One
to flight leads, give me go when ready."
"One, Five. Go."
"One, Nine. Go." He clicked his
comlink twice, signaling for the squadron to form up and head out. Jon
departed first and circled around the Vindicator as he waited for his
three wingmen to form up on him in a finger-four, his second wing on his left,
and his third and fourth on his right. When each pilot lined up in their
respective slots, they signaled him via the com-link.
"One to flight leads, signal when
ready." He waited for the other two flights to form up in finger-four
formations and then pull their formations in with his to form a victor
formation. He looked up at the radar screens in the corner of his cockpit and
noticed two dots, each one representing a cluster of four Defenders slide in to
the center. Seconds later, he received two sets of clicks over his comlink.
"On my mark, all flights assume a relative heading of two, seven, zero. Repeat
two, seven, zero." He received two more pairs of clicks.
He pressed down on his comlink, causing a light
to light up on the panels of all the Defenders behind him. At that point, all
twelve Defenders banked and executed a flawless turn of ninety degrees to
port. He appreciated the attentiveness and skills of his pilots. They weren't
like regular pilots. The pilots of the second flight decelerated and tightened
their turn radius, and the pilots of the third flight accelerated and widened
their arcs appropriately as to provide the illusion that the entire formation
was pivoting around the solar panel array of the number six pilot of the second
slot of the second flight.
"Alright, on my mark, commence transition
to mirrored diamond formation by flight." Jon took five seconds to
mentally prepare himself as were the other eleven pilots and then said,
"...mark." At that point, in each flight, the pilots in the second
and third slots executed a series of rolls to the starboard and port
respectively, the former rolling high, the latter, low. At the same time, the
pilots in the number four slots side-slipped left using a combination of left
etheric rudder and right axial roll. All the pilots involved executed their
maneuvers so that they each ended at the same time, properly oriented while
maintaining a tight formation, no further than forty-four centimeters apart at
any point.
Good. These boys are looking sharp after not
flying formations for some time, Jon thought to himself. This will be a
fun day.
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The pilots of Vanguard squadron chatted noisily
amongst themselves at the local, sectional bar of the Vindicator. They
laughed at each other's jokes, which were said at a volume loud enough for the
other patrons to hear as they were quite often derogatory jokes of the other
pilots.
Vanguard squadron was feeling good. They had
buzzed several other squadrons, much to the displeasure of their commanders and
pilots and performed maneuvers in front of them that no sane person would
attempt. One of these maneuvers was a pylon grab where three pilots would
"hook" one their solar arrays around the pylon of a center craft.
The pilots were too busy enjoying themselves to
notice when the other patrons began to leave.
*** ***
Admiral Raithen walked into conference room
where the five of the commodores from his fleet were waiting for him. He
walked and walked to his end, facing the view port that led to the expanse
beyond the hull of the ship. He sat down, his chair sliding under the table as
it adjusted for him. He pulled out his datapad and motioned for his commodores
to do likewise. "Gentlemen, we have a problem on our hands." He
transmitted the pertinent files to the other members around the table.
"We have a group of pilots whom the majority finds to be offensive.
Normally, we would not consider this of any concern. However, it has gotten to
the point where the performance of our pilots has deteriorated across the
board. We can not simply reprimand them as we might normally do as we will
need their presence in our upcoming campaign. We need to find a way to deal
with them under combat conditions." He paused to look around at each of
the commodores. "That is where you come in."
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After an extensive five and one-third hours of
discussion, Admiral Raithen finally had his solution. He wearily walked to the
turbolift, and took it up to the levels where his quarters were located and
walked into his quarters.
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A conglomerate of pirate cruisers lumbered through
space near a nebula as dozens of starfighters milled about, patrolling for any
unwanted visitors. The ships slowly formed up into a medium sized formation
and prepared to enter hyperspace towards an obscure installation. From the
bridge of the carrack cruiser Enigma, Maraan Dathsmir watched as
different ships of the impressive armada each made its way into position. He
looked back down to his datapad and took a quick inventory of the ships
present. Four Corellian Gunships, six Corvettes, Three modified frigates,
four dreadnoughts, two Carrack Cruisers in addition to his own, and the
Victory-Class Star Destroyer. Good, all things check out, he thought to
himself as he set down his datapad and prepared to give the order to commence
attack. The Victory-Class Star Destroyer was the alliance's prized
possession. Their scouts had found the derelict vessel drifting in space near
their present location. It had taken the alliance over three months to find a
minimal crew capable of operating the warship, stock it up with provisions, and
get it repaired. They had to sell four gunships to cover the cost of the
repairs, and it had been more than worth it.
"All ships prepare to enter hyperspace on
my mark."
"Let's go! go! go!” one of the voices of
the starfighter pilots broke over the radio.
"Go.", was all Maraan had to say for
the blood and profit-happy armada to make its jump into hyperspace. The armada
was going to attack a remote Imperial outpost, near uncharted regions of
space. The outpost was out of communication with the rest of the Imperial Navy
and thus, would make an ideal target to attack as there should be no response.
The plan was to drop out of hyperspace relatively near the station, drop off
the fighters, and then hyper to a pre-determined rendezvous point.
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3
Admiral Kelleson wasn't pleased with the results
of his pilots' simulator runs. He understood that being out on a remote post
was not the most desirable job, but still, things needed to be up to
standards. His pilots were most definitely not. Only a thirty percent
accuracy rating for the "best" pilot, and evasive skills literally
"to die for"? He was positive that it would only be a matter of time
before the station was located by a band of marauding pirates and decimated
without a challenge. He strode back and forth, disturbed that the bases
defenses were not adequate. They had the firepower and manpower, but not the
skill. He paced back and forth along the observation deck, staring out into
the void, wondering if he should contact fleet command for new crew members.
He was about to retire to his quarters when he
thought he saw light reflect off of something in the distance. Odd, he
thought. There shouldn't be anything else out here. Maybe my eyes are
failing me. Then he saw it again, this time followed by two others, one on
each side of it. Kelleson pulled out his comlink and contacted the sensors
officer. "Have you picked up anomalies recently?"
"No, Sir," came a reply that didn't
help warm Kelleson inside.
"Check again, and make it fast,
Lieutenant," Kelleson snapped into the comlink. "Run a thorough scan
between bearings of two-seven-zero and zero-zero-zero, elevation zero-five-five
and declination one-two-niner."
"Yes, Sir." Upon hearing the
officer's reply, Kelleson considered heading to the sensors officer's station
to do it himself.
He had taken no more than ten paces when the
first warhead detonated against the station's shields. Shit, he thought
as he sprinted to the command center. He clicked his comlink, activating the
station's alarm klaxons just as he entered a populated section of the station.
Much to his dismay, but not surprise, he noticed that the people were hesitant
to go to general quarters, thinking it a faulty alarm. "Move it men!
Let's go!" he yelled as he sprinted through. People moved slowly at first
and then began to move with a sense of urgency when the station's lights began
to flicker as power was diverted to defensive systems.
The six R-41 Starchasers passed over the
station, laser and ion cannons firing as they strafed it. They circled around
for two more passes, free of any opposition. As they begun their third pass,
the area around them lit up as the defensive positions opened fire on them.
One of Starchasers shuddered violently as a turbolaser blast took its right
wing off. The craft tumbled wildly along its trajectory before exploding in a
brilliant flash as the warheads inside detonated. The five remaining
starchasers broke off in different directions and waited for their prey to come
out.
The prey came out in the form of four TIE
Fighters from the number three hanger. The TIE Fighters had no more than just
exited when they were set upon by the battle-hungry starchasers. The pilots of
the TIE fighters had only enough time to look up at the source of the incoming
lasers before being spread across the cosmos, reduced to random atoms.
The TIE Interceptors of Alpha squadron that
followed were luckier - they were able to depart as the starchasers looped
around to continue their strafing. The Interceptors peeled off in four
different directions and chased after the different starchasers in an
uncoordinated offensive. One of them, Alpha Four, was hit by defensive fire
from the station's guns and exploded in a brilliant cascading fireball as the
fuel inside exploded.
"Two, Three, you have one on you!
Dive!"
"I can't see him!" a shower of sparks
flew off his wing as a laser grazed his port wing. Alpha Two spun wildly as
the pilot threw his stick in the forward right corner and moved his etheric
rudder pedals back and forth randomly while corkscrewing in a barrel-roll. The
starchaser pilot, whether through luck and intoxication, or through luck and
sheer skill, managed to stay with Alpha Two. He let off several short bursts
of laser fire, all near-misses. The pilot of the starchaser was so focused on
his quarry that he failed to notice when his heads-up-display notified him that
Alpha Three had a solid laser-lock on him. The pilot's demise was quick as his
fighter turned into a stormy fireball of superheated gasses and metal.
Alpha Three looped up into an immelman, executed
a quarter roll port, and performed another immelman and chased a second
starchaser through a labyrinth of defensive fire from the station. Two
starchasers, looped around, leveling off for a few seconds to obtain a lock on
Alpha Three - a few too many - and found themselves caught in the middle of
fire from the station's point-defense system. They both glowed as their hulls
melted from the energy poured into them from the lasers.
The two surviving starchasers were chased by the
three remaining Interceptors, whose pilots let off a flurry of shots
haphazardly, not using caution to prevent a friendly-fire incident. Alpha Two
was lost to sight in the crossfire of lasers between Alpha One and Alpha
Three. The last anyone saw of Alpha Two's ship was a fireball that emerged
from the intersection of lasers.
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4
The Vindicator sped into the system as it
exited hyperspace, rapidly decelerating as it entered real-space. The doors to
Vindicator's hanger bay opened and a lambda-class shuttle glided out,
the wings slowly unfolding as it did so. The shuttle glided towards the nearby
platform as serenely as an ice cube might on a sheet of ice slicked with
water. The Star Destroyer then began to turn around, picking up speed as it
did so.
The communications system came to life, ending
the silence that had dominated the cockpit since its departure from the Vindicator.
"Shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma, please state your
intentions."
"Platform Epsilon-Two-Five-Phi-Seven-Niner-Kappa-Beta,
shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma is five clicks out on vector
two-niner-five-point-four-seven-minus, requesting landing clearance in hanger
three."
"Shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma,
request acknowledged. Transmit your security codes."
"Platform Epsilon-Two-Five-Phi-Seven-Niner-Kappa-Beta,
shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma transmitting security codes, stand
by." The pilot and co-pilot looked at each other to co-ordinate
transmission of the security code. Admiral Raithen's security code was
different from the standard codes in that it had two parts to it to help safeguard
against slicers and opposing forces. Both pilots carried special transmitters
built specifically for the purpose of transmitting a security code. When the
pilots transmitted, any intercepted transmissions would simply appear as broken
and corrupt data, which they would be until the station's specialized receiver
ran them through a special series of algorithms which would in turn create the
final code.
The pilot nodded and both he and the co-pilot
activated their transmitters at the same time. "Shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma...,”
the junior officers on the platform who dealt with the security codes and
communications looked at each other, perplexed. They had not seen anything
like this before. "...Initial transmission received, standby." The
pilots on board the shuttle showed no indication, but they were both surprised
and pleased by the response from the officers on-board the station. The
meeting had been known to only the two officers involve for security purposes.
"Shuttle Four-Six-Three-Alpha-Gamma, your security code is
confirmed. You have clearance to enter hanger three. We will send out escorts
to you."
"Platform Epsilon-Two-Five-Phi-Seven-Niner-Kappa-Beta,
negative on that. Proceeding with clearance to land at hanger three."
The pilots adjusted its course so it glided towards the third hanger. About a
fifth of a click out, the "wings" on the shuttle began to rotate
upwards. The shuttle trembled as the station's automatic tractor beam latched
on and guided it in for a landing. The pilot hit a button on his control panel
and the tractor beam switched off. The pilot then used his rotational
thrusters and repulsors to bring the ship in to a soft, feathery landing in the
hanger.
Several moments later, the loading ramp lowered
like a metallic jaw, and Admiral Kraithen walked out flanked by his two
personal escorts. He was met at the bottom by Fleet Admiral Jaa'gorn. Both
men exchange brief greetings and then walked side-by-side to the superior's
office. They took the back corridors and maintenance access routes as to draw
as little attention to themselves as possible. As far as the rest of the
station was concerned, they weren't present.
They entered Jaa'gorn's temporary office through
a back access point. They sat across from each other at the smaller desk.
Admiral Jaa'gorn placed his hand on the lower-right corner of the underside of
his desk and it beeped as the concealed biometric scanner read and verified his
DNA signature. The doors sealed silently as they merged into the structure of
the platform, effectively making the room inaccessible and invisible to any
mechanics in the area until Admiral Jaa'gorn unlocked the room.
"Alright Admiral Kraithen, we have a job
for your task force. Here are the details." He activated the desk's
built-in holoprojector and a three-dimensional representation of the known
regions expanded to fill the area above the men's heads. He pressed several
buttons on his datapad and the projection shifted, zoomed in and shifted some
more until it focused on a region of space just on the edge of the map.
"This is iota sector of region two-five-lambda-upsilon. As
you know, this is as technically uncharted space. All we have done here is
simply take out a chunk of the uncharted regions and name it." He paused
and pulled out two hard-file documents.
Admiral Kraithen felt a slight twinge from
inside. Hard documents meant only one thing. This must be of utmost
priority, he though to himself as he accepted the hard documents from
Admiral Jaa'gorn. He quickly browsed over the documents. After finishing
them, he quickly re-read them to make sure he hadn't misread anything the first
time. After verifying that he had indeed not misread the documents, he folded
them up, put them in his pocket, and looked his superior in the eyes.
"What exactly is the meaning of this, Sir?"
"We've found something which we can not
identify. Rather, it has found us." He paused, took a sip of water, and
continued. "As you can see, the initial scouting/patrol party was wiped
out without any communication transmission. The second team was able to send
off a signal that hostile forces were present, but nothing further." He
stood up and paced behind the table. "We find it disturbing that a
squadron of TIE Defenders was wiped out so suddenly. Because of that, we are
assuming that significant firepower will be needed to encounter whatever is
lurking in that sector. We are restructuring your task force. You will be
taking the Vindicator as well as three other ISD II's, four
Victory-class Star Destroyers, two Carrack-class cruisers, two Lancer Frigates,
and a Modified Frigate." He paused long enough to signal for a change in
the holodisplay. It changed to a view of a tree of the fleet, showing the
fighter squadrons it would carry. Admiral Kraithen let out a low whistle. This
was a pretty strong force. Admiral Jaa’gorn continued on. "Each of
the ISD-Class II's will be carrying one squadron of TIE Defenders, tow
squadrons of TIE Interceptors, two squadrons of TIE Fighters, and one squadron
of Assault Gunboats. The two Victory-class Star Destroyers will carry one
squadron of TIE Advanceds, and one squadron of TIE Interceptors. Your
auxiliary combat craft, the Lancer frigates, the Carrack-class cruisers, and
the modified frigate will each carry one squadron of combat/patrol craft. Your
combat/patrol squadrons will be the following." He paused to change the
hologram projected once more. You will have two squadrons of modified TIE
Advanceds and three squadrons of modified TIE Interceptors. Each ship will
carry one squadron. In addition to the craft here, we will have two supply
units, standard freighters, on standby at the local outpost to rearm you. We
suspect you will be needing power for this mission." He switched the
projection to display the ordnance available to the fleet. "We have
therefore supplied your ships with advanced missiles and heavy rockets. Your
auxiliary combat craft will carry a small cache of Ion pulse and mag pulse
warheads as we may want to capture things."
******
The technician paused for a break as he was just
finishing his rounds, inspecting the inner working of this desolate station.
He stopped and looked around in the narrow confines of piping, and circuitry.
To any observer, it would obvious that he was confused, almost lost. He
fumbled around, retrieving his datapad from a pocket on his work uniform. He
pulled up a set of schematics, and compared them to his surroundings. He did
several double-takes. Finally, after several minutes, content - perhaps not
satisfied - with what he saw, he packed his toolkit and headed down the
maintenance shaft to end his shift.
******
Admiral Kraithen carried a resolute expression
as he walked back to his shuttle by himself. He entered it, barely entering as
the mouth of the shuttle closed, swallowing him. The shuttle proceeded to lift
off on its repulsors and exited the hanger, silently gliding out. The two
pilots wordlessly performed a complex ballet of button-pushing, switch-toggling
and adjusting settings as the shuttle masked its departure. The shuttle had
exited with its communications system as well as its Identification Friend
or Foe transponder turned off. To further ensure that its departure was
not detected, the shuttle deployed sophisticated sensor jamming systems. The
pilots carefully flew the shuttle so that it could not be seen from any view
port likely to be inhabited. The shuttle flew off and at ten clicks out, the
stars stretched out into long streaks of light as it entered the realm of
hyperspace.
Onboard the shuttle, Admiral Kraithen sat up
front, behind his pilots, thinking to himself. He had a daunting task ahead of
him, and little time to prepare.
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5
The squadron of Y-Wing attack fighters dropped out of
hyperspace seven klicks from the station, their targeting systems
"hot", warheads primed and armed. As they passed the six klick
marker, the pilots targeted the station, releasing their initial salvo of
warheads as their targeting computers emitted a steady tone, indicating a
steady lock. The pilots were unaware that the station had been equipped with a
later model of a top-quality point-defense anti-warhead system. As the rockets
neared the station, the station’s anti-warhead batteries opened up, decimating
the incoming warheads. Those onboard the station were given a fantastic view
of a series of mushroom clouds as the warheads explosive payload detonated.
The two remaining TIE Interceptors swung around
to meet the new threat. Evening out their power settings, they assumed a loose
formation, and headed towards their quarries. They watched as the Y-Wings let
off another salvo of rockets, fated to meet the platform's point-defense
lasers. The pilot of Alpha One broke the silence that had prevailed after the
death of Alpha Two. "Three, One. Stay with me. I have lead Y-Wing."
"Yes, Sir." came the silky smooth
reply. The two Interceptors neared their intended targets, increasing the
power to their lasers' recharge system.
"Two, One. Break and attack." The
two Interceptors broke cleanly, the higher one rolling to port, the lower one
to the starboard. The Y-Wing pilots' intent on delivering their warheads
ignored the threat, letting the first set of emerald lasers play across their
shields. The pilots let off their last. That would be the last mistake for
the pilots of the first and fifth Y-Wings. The pilot's moved their controls
wildly, attempting to juke out of harm's way. Unfortunately for them, the
Interceptors had finished their first strafing run and looped around for their
second pass. The range from predator to prey was short enough that the
movements of the Y-Wings had some effect. Any effect that those movements may
have had, though, was neutralized by the target profile the Y-Wings presented
to their attackers, who were taking advantage of its spread-out configuration
and attacking from above and below. The pilots screamed in agony as their
fighters shredded into debris - their shields and hulls giving way to the
energy put into them by the emerald lasers.
The remaining Y-Wings broke formation and
scattered off in different directions, any odder that there may have been, lost
to the same forces that claimed the life of the lead Y-Wing pilot. Alpha One
and Alpha Three both selected different targets and poured laser fire into
them. There was no contest, no chance for the Y-Wings counter. Deprived of
their intended sweep team/escort team, set upon by two Interceptors, and seeing
that the target’s point-defense system had wiped out their warheads, the Y-Wing
pilots panicked and froze at the controls. The two Interceptors picked them
off one at a time. The massacre took only one-hundred and thirteen seconds.
The two Interceptors headed back to the station,
zigzagging over a wide area, patrolling for more fighters. Admiral Kelleson
watched them from his vantage point on the bridge of the station. After
fifteen minutes of inactivity, he clicked on his comlink, and issued the order
for their recovery.
“Alpha Squadron, this is control. You are to
return to the hanger.” The two Interceptors executed a lazy loop and headed
back to the station. As they approached, the hanger’s tractor beams
automatically locked onto their craft, guiding in into the hanger and the
recovery racks.
Admiral Kelleson stood behind the flight control
officer, watching as the two surviving fighters returned and were cycled
through the racks. He shook his head ever so slightly as he watched them
disappear from view.
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