The Ace Gambit
FM/LCM Krax Tarnisar/Thunder 2-4/Wing X/ISD Challenge
(miner49er@excite.com)

     "Omega leader! We've got a scramble mission!"
     Krax Tarnisar forced himself to wakefulness, lurching to his feet from an uncomfortable chair in the Vindicator's ready room. "But I though all our TIEs were grounded."
     The duty officer shrugged, already turning to wake the next pilot. "From what I hear they've put something together for you."
     It was a short briefing, made more so by the urgency of the situation. Pilots were donning their flight suits while the briefing officer spoke, his voice muted by a com speaker. "Omega flight, the modified corvette Tiberon is under attack. She has a handful of TIEs escorting her, and they're in danger of being overwhelmed. Vindicator is too far away to lend assistance directly, so you're to launch and engage all New Republic fighters."
      "But our TIE Advanced are all grounded."
     The briefing officer's voice changed uncomfortably. "Uh, that's correct, Omega Leader. We have some TIE Interceptors that have been fitted with shielding units ready for you. They were to be used in aggressor training, but with this emergency. . ."
      "Any idea when our T/As will be ready?"
     That voice rose again. "Not exactly. We're still troubleshooting them to find out what went wrong. It's affecting the TIE Defenders in our wing as well. Maintenance thinks it's a spare part problem."
     Krax shook his head, saying nothing as he pulled on his fight helmet and made his way towards the access tubes. Already he could see the sleek TIE Interceptor waiting in its launching cradle. From the graphics, it would be a run at maximum speed to reach the Tiberon, and even then they might not make it in time. As he strapped in and hooked himself into the Interceptor, he activated his com system. "Omega, this is Lead. Don't increase your cannon charges until we're almost on top of them. We'll need all our speed just to get there."
      "What do you think we'll find?" It was Omega Three, one of his new pilots. Just out of the Aurora Prime academy. You could hear the excitement tinged with nerves in his voice.
      "Nothing much, Three. Typical strike package for the New Rep is a flight or two of B-Wings, Y-Wings if we're lucky, and some escorts. Normally it's X-Wings, especially this close to disputed space, but you never know. Sometimes they send A-Wings."
     Then there was no time for talking. The access hatch hissed shut, and lights began blinking red and green as Krax started his launch sequence. The fighter lurched once, and then dropped down into blackness. A second passed, and then his main Ion engines kicked in, sending the little fighter racing away from the bulk of Vindicator. Off on the chase.
      "Omega Flight, this is Control. We have six bogies on our long-range sensors. Looks like Y-Wings and some escorting fighters. Intel is monitoring their com now, and we'll pass anything tactical along."
      "Affirm. Omega Flight, Leader. Close up in a wedge and follow me." Looking down, Krax could just see the skirmishing dotting to life on his own sensor panel. One big dot for the corvette and a swarm of red and green surrounding her like hungry pups. There was a series of quick flares, and the red TIE dots disappeared.
      "They got the escorts!" It was Three again, his voice high and tight.
      "Stay calm, Three. And don't use the com unless necessary." Rookies Krax thought with a grimace. The boy had done well in the sim training, but there was no substitute for the real thing. Let him see some death up close and then we'll see what sort of pilot he is.
      "Omega Flight, Control. The escorts are confirmed as A-Wings."
      "Affirm, Control." Krax checked his controls again, thinking fast. "Omega Flight, Leader. Two, you stick with me and engage the fighters. Four, take Three and see if you can distract those Y-Wings." He waited for confirmation before switching to missiles and scrolling his targeting system until the first A-Wing appeared. The New Rep pilots had noticed the newcomers and were turning to engage. Keeping themselves between the Imperial fighters and the bombers as good escorts should. For a moment Krax admired their discipline. Then that moment was gone. "Two, Leader. Engage as soon as they're in range."
     Always before battle, Krax noticed the stars. They never seemed to move, even though his training and experience told him otherwise. Just standing there like bored holoshow watchers, they blinked at his best efforts and yawned with their silence. And each time it angered him. There was no reason for it, although the squadron med officer would say that it was a way Krax got ready for battle. Working himself into a controlled rage at the thought of all those stars mocking him.
     The target grid flashed yellow, demanding his attention. A single eye also flashed, this more of an orange, warning him that the onrushing A-Wing had a missile system, too, and was trying to lock on to him. "Peel," he barked into the com, sending Omega Two spinning off in a maneuver calculated to bring him back behind and below his target. But Krax continued on. Waiting for that single flash of red before breaking away. It came, his finger tapped once on the firing stud, and then he flicked his wrist, sending the Interceptor spinning away and down as if it had been hit by an asteroid.
     Cannon fire flashed out from the A-Wings, just tapping the left side of his fighter. The shield panel flickered, going from green to a sickly yellow to show the damage it had absorbed. Shields! I'd forgotten. . . Used to flying the unshielded Interceptor, Krax hadn't changed his tactics. Cursing at himself, he swung the fighter back up. Watching targets in his short-range sensor display swing from back to front. Looking to. . .
      "Omega, this is Control. Something odd's going on out there. The A-Wings are breaking off! They got some sort of coded signal and their leader sent the recall order."
     Disbelieving, Krax watched as the A-Wings wheeled almost as one and engaged their hyperdrives. In two seconds they were no more than a memory, jumping to some predetermined location. Leaving their bombers to. . .
      "Omega Flight, Control. We have X-Wings coming in on vector three."
      "Affirm. Four, you and Three keep after those bombers. Two, follow me."

     Back in Vindicator's debriefing room, Krax realized it had been a near thing. Omega Three and Four had managed to destroy four of the bombers, driving the rest off and allowing the corvette to limp back within the weapons range of Vindicator. And he and Two had blasted the attacking X-Wings to so much microscopic space junk. Two's Interceptor had taken damage, though, and Krax had ordered him home. Covering his retreat and killing another two X-Wings in the process. But. . .
      "Did Intel ever learn anything about those A-Wings? It's not like those hotshots to disengage. Especially against Interceptors."
      "Lieutenant Commander Tarnisar. A moment." The squadron commander looked up, strain drawing his face thin and gray. Krax wondered why, then remembered the problem with their advanced fighters. The interrogation rooms would be busy until that one was cleared up. Taking a moment, the commander organized his thoughts. "We don't know much more than we did during the battle, I'm afraid. The recall signal was directed to the flight leader. It was Tango flight, by the way. I'm sure some of you remember them from those convoy skirmishes last year. All we know is that their flight leader is someone named Ta'ris."
      "But why would they disengage?"
      "Perhaps I can answer that." Turning, Krax took the newcomer in with a glance and turned back to the front of the room. Plain uniform. Close-cut graying hair and eyes that were a pale blue-gray. A face that had seen some reconstruction work. He recognized the man from some Special Operations briefings. An Intel officer.
     Striding to the front of the room, the officer stood next to Omega Squadron's commander. "This Ta'ris has been turning up in the New Rep's propaganda holos a great deal over the past few months. All insurrections need their heroes, gentlemen, and this lady's one of theirs. They're building her up as their top pilot. The slayer of the evil remnants of the Empire. That sort of rubbish." His smile was thin and unpleasant. "The problem's been referred to the Emperor's Hammer Command Staff."

TWO WEEKS LATER - CONVOY ESCORT DUTY

      "Keep your eyes open, Omega Flight. If Intel's right, we should be having company any time now." The control officer temporarily assigned to the freighter Cannius sounded nervous. Not one of the squadron's regular officers, he had no idea what Omega pilots were capable of.
      "Affirm, control. Just relax. Omega Flight Two's with you." Krax switched over to internal, cutting the control officer out of the com link. "Flight. Leader. This one sounds a bit squirmy, so keep your eyes on your own sensors. I have a feeling we might see the New Republic fighters before he does."
      "Leader, this is Three. Do you think we'll run into that ace again?"
     Again there was a hitch to Three's voice that Krax didn't like. "Does it matter, Three? Even if we do, she can't be all that. Not flying with some ragged bunch of rebels. Now square your thoughts away and close up with the flight. You're drifting .5 kilometers off true."
      "Affirm." Three's voice was contrite as he corrected the drift, bringing his shielded Interceptor back into the line of the formation.
      "Omega Flight, this is Control. We've got something on our long-range sensors. Looks like fighters coming out of hyperspace. Change course to vector Beta-3 to intercept."
      "Leader, this is Four. I've got 'em on my scope as well." Four was the far end fighter, and the bandits would be just at the edge of his short-range sensors. "Looks to be a wedge of B-Wings. And they've got an escort. A-Wings, unless my computer's faulty."
      "Flight, come about to Beta-3. Flank speed. Let's close with those bastards before they can do any damage. Remember, the second convoy's due to hyper in any time now, so keep your eyes open." Krax nudged his throttle studs all the way open, reminding himself to readjust his cannon charge rate once they got in range. "Engage the bombers with missiles as soon as they're in range. I'll take on any A-Wings that try to interfere."
     The two groups of fighters raced towards each other, the lumbering Y-Wings trying to stay behind their A-Wing screen as they closed within range of the convoy. Control was screaming in Krax's ear, but he paid the man no mind. Obviously new to his job, and prone to panic. Have to remember to mention him to the squadron commander after this mission. Scrolling through his target data, he settled on the A-Wing with the fastest rate of closure. There were four of them, and he didn't think he could successfully dogfight them alone. But a missile thrown their way would cause them to break formation, buying precious seconds for his own flight to attack those bombers.
     Yellow turned to red, and a lock tone howled in his flight helmet. Krax squeezed once, sending a missile lurching out and away towards an A-Wing. But he didn't expect the reaction he got. Instead of a routine evasive spin, the A-Wings wheeled as one and disengaged. This time he listened to Control. "I don't know what you did, Omega Lead, but it worked. Their hyperdrive engines are coming on-line. They're running!"
      "Any signal traffic?" Krax switched his target computer over to the Y-Wings. Left to their fate, they were straining to get in range of the freighters. It would be a near thing.
      "Negative. Just something about covering Tango One."
      "Good. Omega Flight. Lead. Get in there and kill those bombers! I'll fly side cover in case the Rebels try to drop some more fighters in on us."

      "So you say this Tango Fight just disengaged when you fired a missile?"
     Krax read the disbelief on the Intel officer's face. "Yes, sir. They did send some X-Wings in as backup, but by then it was too late. My flight had already destroyed one flight of Y-Wings and was starting in on the second wave. We did call in Tau Flight's gunboats, but only to help with mopping up stragglers."
      "Interesting. You're dismissed, gentlemen. Good job." Once the pilots had filed out, the Intel officer sat in silence for a time. The faint humming of Vindicator's ventilation system the only sound aside from the breathing of the two officers. Finally, the younger one spoke. "So. What do you think?"
     His colleague was at least ten years older, and hadn't spoken a word during the entire debriefing. "We'll have to choose our bait carefully. Those bastards seem intent on protecting their ace. But the basic plan's solid. Good work, Lieutenant Commander."
     Acknowledging the praise with a slight nod, the younger officer tapped some keys, bringing a briefing graphic to life on the screen. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to show you what we've planned. News of a supply convoy will be leaked to a known New Rep agent within the Bounty Hunters' Guild. We've had this agent in a box for some time, so she'll pass along the information as genuine. It will take a standard week or so, which will give us time to get some TIE Defenders back on-line." He held up his hand, anticipating a question. "We're still investigating the problem of sabotage, sir. In any case, we'll need T/Ds to pull off this capture mission. Our leak will state that the convoy is being escorted by TIE fighters only, since our advanced models are all down for maintenance. If we're lucky, we might learn something about the sabotage in the bargain. Once this Tango Flight arrives, the T/Ds will engage and disable the ace's craft. We then send in an assault transport to effect a capture."
     Until now the older officer had been silent. "How can we be sure that the New Republic will send this Ta'ris?"
      "We can't, sir. But it's a calculated risk. Our analysis has indicated that Ta'ris built up her reputation in convoy battles like this. Always engaging outdated or inferior craft. We feel this one's tailor made for her. A morsel she can't resist."
      "For your sake I hope it is. You understand that my superiors aren't all that keen on his scheme, Lieutenant Commander. They'd rather see you exerting all this effort to find out who sabotaged our hyperdrive-capable fighters. For the time being I've convinced them to let you run your operation. But any setback will mean the end of it. Understood?"
     Switching off the briefing screen, the younger officer sank back in his chair. He could feel sweat beading in the palms of his hands, and kept his voice steady with effort. "I understand, sir. I won't let you down."
      "I know. That's why I backed you. Bring me this ace, Lieutenant Commander. We have. . .plans for her."

      "You'd think they could have had these Defenders ready for us a week ago." It was Three, with a newfound strength in his voice.
      "Perhaps, Three. But it was hard enough to pry them out of Flight One's fingers." Four laughed, a harsh bark through the coms.
      "Let's cut the chatter, Omega Flight." Krax spoke evenly, watching his sensors with a practiced eye as he did. "We're supposed to be a flight of regular TIEs, remember?"
      "Affirm." Came in from the other three pilots, two tinged with anxiety.
      "Good. Now cut speed and play TIE."
     This wasn't the kind of mission Krax enjoyed. He'd never been comfortable with the big Defender, preferring his normal TIE/Advanced with its small size and agility. Built totally for killing, for the dogfight. When you got in a Defender, you strapped on those damned Ion cannons. Making you prey for all sorts of silly capture missions. Like this one. But he said nothing, knowing that Intel's ears were large and well-placed. Besides, as his squadron commander had grumped during the pre-flight briefing, he should be thrilled at the honor of being selected for this mission. Part of it, he knew, was ill feeling. The commander's flight had been the one that lost its T/Ds to Krax's Flight Two.
     Two kilometers ahead and just below them, three freighters lumbered along in their circle. Although a good deal of radio chatter emerged from their hulls, Krax suspected that they were drone ships, fitted with decoy systems. Even Intel wasn't going to waste good freighter crews on a mission like this. With the supply problems the Emperor's Hammer had been experiencing of late, good crews were few and hard to come by.
     One thing he had to give the T/D was that it had a good sensor suite. He saw the fighters dropping out of hyperspace early, and switched his com to the mission subchannel. "Here they come, flight. Four A-Wings, dropping in to clear the escorts away. Flank speed, and stand by with those tractor beams. I'll take Tango Leader as soon as she's identified."
     It was an illusion, but Krax was sure he felt his body being pressed back in his chair as the T/D went from one-third to full power. For a big ship she was fast, and for a moment he thought he could see the stars move. But that was another illusion, and Krax forced his mind back to the business at hand. Scrolling through his target systems until he made that magical identification. The A-Wings were milling a bit now, most likely from the surprise in learning that their prey was in fact turning on them. And that their Intel information had been dead wrong. These were no TIE fighters. A TIE Defender would never be described as easy prey, except by the most foolish or overconfident pilot. This was the time to. . .
      "Flight. Lead. Target is in Tango Two. Repeat. Tango Two. Cover me." They were within half a kilometer now, and Krax watched as the A-Wings exploded to life, spinning away in a pinwheel maneuver designed to throw off targeting computers. Diverting part of his engines' output to his weapons, he switched over to Ion cannons and armed his tractor beam system. He could just see the A-Wing, coming into clear visual range. "Got you, you bastard," he muttered, locking on the tractor beam and firing a barrage of Ion cannon fire. His threat display jumped immediately to life as the other A-Wings in Tango Flight turned to cover their commander. "Cover me!" Krax yelled into the com, turning to keep Tango Two in the cone of his tractor. And his Ion cannons. "I've got her shields weakened. So keep the rest of them off me!"
      "Affirm, Lead." It was the voice of Three, his normally shaky tones even and calm. "Two and Four are engaging some Y-Wings who wanted to join the party."
     Krax was surprised, but kept his voice level. "So why aren't you with them?" Finger contracting, he sent another Ion volley into the lurching A-Wing, grinning when his tactical sensors showed that her shields were almost down.
      "You needed cover. And I remember that other mission when you stayed behind to cover me. Engaging targets."
     Two more volleys brought the A-Wing to a total standstill, its systems jumbled and rendered useless by the Ion cannons. Krax spun his big Defender away, switching to regular lasers as he triggered his com. "Omega Leader. The bird is down."
      "Affirm, Omega Lead. The ATR's coming out of hyperspace in ten seconds. Keep those New Rep bastards away until the capture's completed."
      "Affirm." Krax switched back to tactical channel, passing the order along. "Three, stick with me. Let's take down some A-Wings."
      "Roger that!" It was a cheerful cry, far from the scared damp-ears that had been on the first mission. But there was no time to wonder about the change. Sometimes, Krax knew, combat had a way of doing that.
     Realizing that their leader was down, and that the T/Ds were coming after them now, the remaining Tango Flight A-Wings did their best to escape. But it was of little use. The T/D was a bigger, faster fighter, and one with much better weapons. In under thirty seconds, Tango Fight was nothing more than bits of metal and plastic expanding into an ungrateful galaxy.

      "How is the prisoner?"
      "As well as may be expected, sir." The lieutenant commander from Intel snapped to attention, surprised by the appearance in his office of a general. Even though the uniform was unmarked, one always knew the identity of the Sector Chief.
      "Good. See that she's not too seriously. . .damaged. Your plan for this one was exceptionally shrewd, commander. We want to see it come to a successful conclusion."
      "Yes, sir." He wondered for a moment if the rank title was a mistake, then decided that it wasn't. A promotion was the least he expected for a coup like this one, provided that it went according to plan. "She's under Phase II interrogation now, and we won't go any deeper. Just enough to get any valuable tactical information and prepare her for the operation."
      "Good. I've arranged for all the Sector resources to be behind you on this one, commander. How long do you think reprogramming will take?"
     Before replying, the younger officer turned to his keypad and tapped in a sequence of letters and numbers. A thin smile flashed across his face as he read the resulting display. "No more that three standard weeks, sir, and that's with a 10% padding factor. This Ta'ris is proving to be an excellent subject for this sort of thing. Much more vain than you'd expect one of the shining beacons of Republican purity to be." He allowed himself another thin smile. "So her resistance is correspondingly weak. We could rush her through Stage I and II programming, but I want to take it slow and follow all the proper steps."
      "Good, commander." The old general smiled, rubbing at a scar on his face that was reputed to have come from a bit of console during the Battle of Endor. He did nothing to discourage such talk. "The Emperor would have liked your little plan, I believe."
      "You. . .you knew the Emperor?"
      "Of course." This was just a little stretch of the truth. At one time, in his younger years, the general had been one of the Imperial Guards. But he was a firm believer in allowing his subordinates to believe whatever he wanted them to believe. "And such thinking was in line with his plans." Rising from his chair with a crackle of plastic cushions, he turned for the door. "Let me know if there are any changes, commander. Or if you need any support. This project has the highest Sector priority. I will not have it fail."

     Watching the lone A-Wing fading on his sensors as it made the jump into hyperspace, Krax shook his head. Why his flight of TIE/Advanced had been ordered out on such a mission he could not begin to understand. What was the point in wasting flight hours on a target you weren't even supposed to hit? But the orders had again come from Intel through his increasingly agitated Squadron Commander, so no questions were asked aloud. And damned few thought, if the truth were to be known.
     Keying his com, Krax got on with the charade. "Flight, this is Lead. She's gotten away from us! Damn the luck! Close up and prepare to jump home. We'll have some explaining to do after this one." As one ship, the three trailing members of Omega Flight Two wheeled and engaged their own hyperdrives. This was one of those missions that you just didn't waste time thinking about, but were glad that it was over and you could get on to the real business of beating the New Republic.

      "The insertion was a complete success, general. The Omega Squadron flight leader reports that his fighters did exactly as ordered and then broke off pursuit."
      "Good. So our little polwocz is in place?"
      "Com Int says yes. They've monitored a slew of signals since the A-Wing would have come out of hyperspace. We're decoding them now, but a preliminary scan indicates that they have their precious ace back and are busy writing about how she foiled the best the degenerate remnants of the Empire had to offer. Their words, of course, general," the newly-promoted commander hastened to add.
      "Of course, commander. Let them throw their little holo-barbs at us. They've helped us sow the seeds of their own destruction."
      "Sir?"
      "Don't you see, boy? With vanity campaigns like this ace business, they create heroes that we can corrupt. That we can twist and take and make our own. And with each one those doe-eyed masses will begin to wonder about the purity of their new 'saviors.' And once that seed of doubt is sown, the return of the Empire is ordained." The general's low chuckle echoed throughout the small office, echoed by that of the new commander who understood the bigger impact of his little capture operation. The bigger a hero was, the farther she fell and the more damage she did on the way down.

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