|-o-| Ours is Not to Reason Why |-o-|

"All right children, since you all seem so interested in the news, let's start today off with some social studies," Mr. Freyu announced as he unpacked his books onto his desk.

There was the expected low groan at the mention of that subject. With the Galaxy changing as much as it had been, especially recently, social studies was among the hardest subjects in school.

"OK, no what why did we destroy Alderaan?" Freyu asked the class.

A brown-haired girl named Sendet raised her hand.

"It was to kill the Rebels," chimed the little girl, obviously proud of having paid attention to at least part of the news broadcast.

"Sendet, the Emperor doesn't enjoy killing others, even if they are terrorists. He, of course, wants to resolve this issue with as little life lost as possible. While it was stated that Rebel factions and stolen weapons were on Alderaan, the Emperor regrets having to destroy any planet or any person for that matter. The main reason for Emperor Palpatine attacking Alderaan was to scare the Rebels into giving up their pointless war and rejoining civilized society." Mr. Freyu spoke those words as if he were reciting a speech.

Steth didn't seem to notice, however, as he took down careful notes. It makes sense, Steth thought. But he raised his hand anyway as something occurred to him.

"What if destroying Alderaan just makes the Rebels more angry?" Steth wondered aloud.

"Well then we will probably have to destroy them as well," Freyu replied with mock-regret. "We would love for them to give up this senseless struggle and become productive members of the Empire, but sometimes people are more animal than human. Sometimes the only way to teach a group of people a lesson, is to make an example out of one of them," Freyu continued.

Steth though about this a moment. That also made sense to him. From what he had heard from Mr. Freyu and from other adults, these Rebels were like animals. Too bad, he thought. But if it's the only way to get them to stop killing innocent people, I guess it's all right.

Later that day, as Sigder was walking home from work, he thought about what he had done and what the consequences may be. Death? Maybe. Imprisonment? Definitely. Just better hope it went unnoticed, Sigder thought. He wondered how his wife would react when he told her about it. She would probably be mad at first, then fearful, and finally determined. That's what he loved about his wife. No matter what, he could count on her.

But he wondered if she could handle the fact that he had decided to turn traitor and help the Rebellion. Especially since he initiated himself into their cause by covertly sending the Rebels full schematics of the next few Star Destroyers to be launched from the Kuat Drive Yards in the next few weeks, along with key systems that would be vulnerable to attack.

This was definitely going to make for an interesting way of life.

As he was cautiously peering out the window, he readied his blaster rifle. After recently turning to the Rebellion, and knowing just how severely the Empire punished those revolutionaries, he had little reason to believe that he would be alive too much longer. But he had never feared death. He had lived his life the best he knew how and he had no regrets. Sweat streaked from his brow, down his nose and dropped to the floor.

Suddenly, they were upon him.

Steth motioned for his Rebel teammate, Grifter, to take up a position on the opposite side of the doorway.

"Be ready to shoot," Steth ordered, "and don't worry about killing any of them. They're just stormtroopers; they don't mean anything." Grifter smiled and almost giggled but then resumed his straight face. From what Steth knew, that must be how the Rebels thought, if not worse.

The door was thrown open and four kids in cardboard stormtrooper armor burst through the doorway. Steth shot the first one in the back as the trooper ran through, eager to exterminate the Rebel infestation. The second and third stormtroopers shot Grifter before he even knew what was going on. What a soldier you were old buddy, Steth sarcastically quipped to himself and he shot the second armored kid in the leg. Then the fourth came running in and shot Steth twice in the chest. As Steth fell to the ground with an audible thud, the two remaining Imperials stood over his dead body and laughed as they injected volley after volley of blaster fire into Steth's head and chest.

The laser blasts, themselves, were of course imaginary and the blaster were little more than fake plastic replicas. That still did not prevent Steth from feeling their sting.

"I don't think it's fair! It's two against four and we are always the Rebels," Steth complained gesturing to Grifter, "and we always lose!"

"Oh don't worry about it Steth. Think of it this way: at least the Rebels died here like they do in real life, and not us Imperials," said Grifter, trying to calm his friend down.

Steth had to think about that one for a second. And it did make sense.

Suddenly, they were upon him.

Sigder motioned for his wife to take cover as he stood against the side of the doorframe, his back to the wall.

"Sigder Norun, you are charged with high treason against the Empire. Open up and come quietly or we will be forced to use any necessary violence!" yelled a voice that sounded as though it had to be coming from behind a helmet. Sigder had no intention of going that quietly. The men behind the door seemed to get the hint when the door remained locked. Sparks started to shoot out of the metal door. Sigder knew he had only a matter of seconds left before he was either dead or captured. Either way, his old life was over.

And then came the explosion. Small bits of the door and the surrounding frame flew in all directions and out of the newly created hole emerged a fearful sight. An Imperial stormtrooper. He advanced on Sigder but before he could ready his blaster rifle, Sigder shot the trooper in the shoulder and then in the knee. The stormtrooper's gut wrenching screams and the white, armored form falling to the ground were the last things Sigder Norun ever heard or saw as laser fire emanating from the blasted door caught him in the chest and throat.

The laser blasts were not imaginary and the blasters were not replicas. But, ironically, Sigder never felt the sting.

"Alright, children, it's time to come in now!" announced Mr. Freyu.

Steth walked out of the makeshift Rebel base and grudgingly made his way back to the main school building. But as he was about to enter the classroom, Mr. Freyu grabbed his arm and whispered, "Something has happened at your house. Come with me for a moment."

Curious, and somewhat grateful that he didn't have to go back to class yet, Steth followed his instructor to a different room. There, surrounded by five stormtroopers, was the system Moff, Trent. Steth knew the Moff only from when he saw him on the holo-proj making announcements and such.

Confused, Steth looked back towards his teacher for help but Freyu only gave him a sympathetic look.

The Moff started to speak. "You are Steth Norun, correct?" Steth nodded and Trent continued, "I'm sorry to inform you that your parents have been murdered."

Steth stared at the governor for a moment, not fully understanding what was going on. Shocked, the only word he could think of was, "How?"

"Rebel extremists were violently protesting and during the chaos, someone set an explosive device next to your house. Your parents were in the house when it went off," replied Trent. He spoke softly so as to show genuine pity for Steth’s late parents. In reality, however, he felt nothing but contempt for those Rebel scum and had taken pleasure in frying his frightened mother's head when his troops found her cowering in the basement.

Steth stared unbelievingly at the public official. "I just want you to know that you have a place to stay with me and I will see to your every need," Trent quickly said. He did genuinely feel pity for the boy. His parents may have been suicidal outlaws, but Steth had nothing to do with that. And Freyu had told him before hand that Steth was beginning to show genuine hate for the Rebellion. This, Trent thought, should settle any uncertainties he has about whose side he's on.

And Trent's logic was correct. Steth could only think of one thing. Hatred. He hated the Rebellion. And all he could think of when he got past the hatred was revenge.

"I only want to know one thing, sir. Can I make them pay for what they've done?" Steth spoke though clenched teeth and tear-filled eyes.

"Oh yes you can," Trent replied with an evil grin, "oh yes you can."

II

The Arrival

Three Years Later…

Steth had his worries after he decided to go into the Imperial Naval Academy. What if I’m not good enough, or smart enough, or fast enough? He would often question himself. But those fears were quickly shattered the moment his parents entered his mind. He remembered that day well. He had no choice; it was forever painfully engraved in his mind.

He had ran out of the room after being dismissed by Trent, tears streaking his young face. But he didn’t run back to class. He ran all the way home. It was fifteen kilometers and he never once stopped to catch his breath. He clawed feverishly through the rubble, trying desperately to accomplish something. He didn’t know exactly what that something was though. Maybe he thought that if he dug fast enough, he could still find his parents, alive and well. Maybe he dug because he wanted the pain in his bleeding hands to take away some of the pain in his heart.

Eventually, Freyu and Trent caught up to him using the Imperial Moff’s private land speeder. They watched with pity as Steth dug through mounds of rubble. Suddenly, he stopped digging. His back was toward them so they couldn’t see what was going on.

Why is there a stormtrooper rifle here? Steth wondered; his first coherent thought in hours, Dad only had the holdout blaster. But that was the last thought Steth wanted to think. Who cares? Holdout blaster or stormtrooper rifle, they both do the same thing, Steth concluded as he raised the barrel of the rifle to his chin.

“No Steth!” cried Mr. Freyu. Trent, a little more sedate, grabbed the rifle from Steth’s small hands.

“Don’t worry yourself, Freyu. The safety was on,” Trent commented, unconcerned as he tossed the blaster casually at Freyu. He turned and knelt down besides Steth. “You had the right idea back at the school. This isn’t the way. Revenge is much sweeter than suicide. Think about it, Steth. If you kill yourself, then they win, don’t they?” spoke Trent very softly.

“I guess so,” Steth admitted between sobs.

“Right, so lets get you cleaned up and I’ll tell you what you can do to make yourself feel better.”

Steth never knew that making someone else feel pain could make your pain go away. But it was true. Trent bought him a flight simulator and let him and his holographic TIE fighter loose upon unsuspecting rebel ships and sometimes, even peaceful cities.

But the drawback of living with the Moff was that he never had any friends, excluding Trent. He talked to Grifter every now and then but they eventually lost contact. And his education primarily consisted of Steth reading all of the books in Trent’s enormous library.

After reading a few war novels and after having so much fun in the simulators, Steth decided that he wanted to enter the Academy and become a real TIE fighter pilot. Trent didn’t seem surprised at all.

“You do whatever makes you happy,” Trent reassured Steth. What Steth didn’t know is that Trent knew all along that he would want to enter the Academy. The only books in the library, aside from the usual educational books, were war novels about the glory and prestige of being a TIE fighter pilot.

And so here he was. Steth looked out onto the crowd of people and wished that Trent hadn’t been too busy to see him off. With a sigh, Steth slowly started to ascend the gangway that led to the inside of the Lambda-class shuttle.

Steth looked around and tried to find a seat next to someone his own age. Most of the people were older. They were seeking transport to this or that system for this or that reason. But one person caught Steth’s eye. She was pretty blond girl seated in the back. She can’ t be older than nineteen, Steth rejoiced as he made his way to the back of the shuttle.

He leaned over, slapped on the most charming smile he could muster and very suavely said, “HI!”

Everyone in the shuttle slowly turned around to see just whose voice had cracked so audibly. Steth turned a deep red, almost purple, and cleared his throat. Well, that was dignified, Steth scolded himself.

The woman looked up from here data pad and smiled sweetly. “Hello,” she responded, ignoring Steth’s embarrassing greeting. She motioned for him to sit down. He slid into his seat as the rest of the shuttle’s passengers returned to what they were doing before the high-pitched squeal had interrupted them.

“So where ya headed?” Steth asked while trying to recover his self-esteem. Please say you’re going to Carida to train! Steth mentally pleaded.

“Oh I’m going home to Coruscant. I was here visiting my family for the week. My husband is already mad at me because I said I’d be home two days ago,” she explained.

Misery set in as Steth listened to her. Oh well. Can’t win ‘em all, Steth finally reassured himself. Of course, at this point, he hadn’t won any. He had grown up in relative seclusion and had little experience with women, or people in general for that matter. Well now is as good a time to learn as any, Steth concluded. Guess I just have to chalk this one up to inexperience.

Suddenly, the captain’s voice blared through the cabin speaker. “We will be lifting off in a few seconds. If everyone would please buckle your safety restraints, we can get underway. We will be entering hyperspace in approximately eight minutes.”

Here we go! Steth inwardly rejoiced as he slid the safety straps over his shoulders.

The Lambda-class luxury shuttle stopped at various planets on its way to Carida, the training ground for most of the Empire’s stormtroopers, pilots, and officers. Steth paid little attention to the passengers that came and went with every stop.

The shuttle touched down on, yet, another planet. Steth almost slept through hearing the captain say, “And we are now arriving at Carida, home to the Empire’s best and brightest. We hope you’ve enjoyed your flight, and from all of us here at Star Gazer Spacelines, we wish you well.”

Steth had heard the captain’s cheap, rehearsed speech at all the other stops but since he was finally at Carida, he didn’t seem to get annoyed this time. A few people stood in unison with Steth and they all made their way toward the ever-growing light emanating from shuttle’s exit.

Steth was somewhat dismayed by his first view of Carida. “It looks exactly the same as Kuat,” he whispered to himself. So much for exciting and exotic new worlds, Steth complained as he crumpled the Carida brochure that he had been reading on the shuttle.

Eventually he arrived at the admissions office. “Hi I'm Steth Norun. I’d like an application to enter the Imperial Naval Academy Flight School,” Steth announced.

The woman behind the desk calmly looked him up and down. A short, lean, gray eyed, blond-haired kid. He’ll wash out in a week, the receptionist thought with a mental sneer. “Here you are Mister Norun,” the woman cheerfully responded as she handed him a data pad.

III

The Training

After some rigorous physical and mental testing, Steth was relieved to hear that he had been accepted into the Academy. What Steth didn’t know was that if the admissions officers hadn’t accepted him, Trent would have had them all fired.

He had been given a flight cadet uniform and instructions on what to do next. He followed those instructions and before he knew it, he found himself in a huge hanger bay- type room filled with newly enrolled cadets. Steth glanced around him. There must have been five or six hundred men and around one hundred women in the enormous chamber.

“Attention!” someone cried loudly. All of the cadets assumed a military stance, and Steth followed in suit.

The man who had gotten over seven hundred people to stand at attention simultaneously, spoke again. “Welcome to the Imperial Naval Academy. And welcome to hell.” He paused for a moment to let that statement sink in. “I am Commander Sawet. You are all here to be pilots, officers, and ship operators. I can personally guarantee that more than half of you will wash out, quit, or in some rare cases, die.” A few of the cadets surrounding Steth were visibly shocked to hear this. Steth knew this was just the first of many things the Navy used to scare the less determined cadets into quitting thus time and resources would be conserved. “Those of you that do make it will then go on to whatever job you have trained for. But as of now, every one of you in this room is a number. Names mean nothing here.” Sure enough, Steth looked down and saw the number 3243827 stitched into the breast of his uniform. “To all of you, I wish you luck. You will need it.” With that, Sawet left the room. Another man stepped up and announced, “Attention! All cadets report to your assigned bunkers for group formation. Dismissed!”

Switching the lights on, Steth stared into his sleeping quarters. It was a compact room with two bunk beds on the left and right walls and a computer terminal built into the far wall. He walked over to his bed and found a data pad placed on the pillow. It listed him and the eleven other cadets that were to be in his training squadron. The list was broken down further into units. Each unit consisted of four pilots. Steth couldn’t tell who was in his group because instead of names, there were numbers.

While he had been studying the list, another cadet had walked in. Steth didn’t even notice the stranger until he spoke.

“I think I'm against this whole number thing. I mean, is 3243827 really going to do justice to a name like Steth Norun?”

“How did you know my…” Steth began as his head slowly rose to meet the stranger’s gaze. The man he saw standing there almost brought tears to his eyes. “Grifter!”

“The one and only,” Grifter said with wide a grin.

The two friends slowly walked towards each other and embraced. When the parted, they threw a barrage of questions at each other. A few minutes later, the other two pilots assigned to the unit showed up.

The first to walk through the door was a lean, athletic young woman. She was almost exactly Steth’s height. But that’s not what Steth was concentrating on. Her hair was as red as fire. But her eyes were a sharp green. These complementing colors had the affect of screaming her presence. I would be insane if I didn’t try for her, inexperienced or not, Steth thought.

Those thoughts collapsed in on themselves as the next cadet walked in. He savagely grabbed her around the waist and spun her into his waiting arms. A quick kiss between the two confirmed that they were an item.

After their lips parted, the male spoke up. “Hey guys. I'm Post Kaster and this is my girl, Bri Jendo.”

“Hi,” she meekly greeted them then broke away and sat on her bed.

“Steth Norun and Grifter Delfi,” Grifter responded, “pleased to meet ya.” They all exchanged handshakes.

Suddenly, a large red light above the door started blinking. Not knowing what was going on, Steth looked at his data pad. “Says we’re supposed to go to room thirty-four beta.” With that, the group departed.

“Can’t win ‘em all, right?” Grifter whispered to Steth as they were walking towards their destination. Steth knew exactly what he was talking about. Bri. But there was a limit to how many times one could say the words “Can’t win ‘em all”.

“Right,” replied Steth.

They eventually reached their training room.

It was a dark chamber. Along each wall were four simulators with the unit numbers painted above them. And in the center of the room was a fearsome sight. It was Commander Sawet himself. The other pilots in the squadron started to arrive as Sawet spoke.

“Welcome kiddies. You all have the honor and fortune of having me as your training instructor.” With that, he smiled broadly. “Now let’s get to it. You all passed your entrance exams. This means that you can pilot a ship in empty space and not hit anything. Well, it’s going to get a little tougher now. You squadron name for the time being is Theta.” With that he assumed a more formal stance. “Everyone to your fighters!”

Steth rushed over to his designated simulator and pushed the button to open the ball cockpit. He slid into his seat while silently complaining to himself about how cramped the cockpit was. Better get used to it, he thought, I still have to get into this thing with a flight suit.

The door closed automatically, and for a few seconds, Steth was surrounded by darkness. Suddenly, small numbers and lights appeared all around him. He knew the situation well. The simulator he had at home was exactly like this one. He glanced all around him and spotted the HUD or Heads Up Display. This was, essentially, his radar. Imperial craft were represented by red dots, Rebel craft by green dots, and non-aligned craft by purple or blue dots. He then found his CMD or Combat Multiview Display. This showed the statistics of any craft he chose to target.

As Steth was checking his instruments, stars blinked into existence, as if someone had flicked a switch. He checked his HUD and found that he was in deep space with no planets around. He also spotted a large red dot that his CMD identified as an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. In front of the Destroyer were eleven smaller dots, his squadron- mates.

A voice filled the cockpit. It was Commander Sawet’s. “This is the Star Destroyer Vengeance calling Theta Squadron. We have bogeys inbound. They appear to be setting up for an attack run on the Vengeance. Break into units and engage the enemy fighters,” Sawet ordered.

Steth quickly glanced at his HUD. Sure enough, about five kilometers ahead of the Vengeance, six green dots had just blinked into existence in a V formation. The CMD identified them as Rebel Y-wings.

Steth checked his laser energy and was relieved to see that his laser banks were full. Another voiced blared throughout his cockpit. This time, it was Post’s.

“Ok, they haven’t given us orders on how we are supposed to attack the Y-wings so they must be testing our reflexes. Suggestions. Quickly!” Post yelled.

“We outnumber them two to one. I think we should take them in pairs. Theta Five and Six: You go for Y-wing Three. Theta Eight and I will take Y-wing Four,” Steth announced. He could hardly believe he had the confidence to be issuing orders, but had done exactly that.

“As ordered, Seven,” came Post’s reluctant reply. Post had been trying to assume leadership but it seemed that Steth had beaten him to it. That’s ok, Post thought, actions speak louder than words.

On that thought, Post diverted all of his laser energy to his engines and sped off in front on the unit. Theta six, Bri, tried to keep up with him but Post wasn’t about to let his girlfriend take any of his glory. Steth watched him zoom off with a sympathetic eye. With an attitude like that, he’ll be vaped before this battle even gets underway.

“Ok, Eight, lets take out our target. We can still intercept him before he gets in range of the Vengeance. Cover me,” Steth told Grifter.

“I’m right with you, Seven,” came Grifter’s reply as he pulled into formation behind Steth.

Lets hope you’re a better pilot than you are a Rebel soldier, old buddy, Steth smiled to himself as he remembered more innocent times.

By now the triangle formation of Y-wings were at the three-kilometer mark and closing fast on the Vengeance. Out of the corner of his eye, Steth noticed the other squadron units attacking their assigned targets. Two of the Y-wings broke off and started firing back at the attacking TIEs. He saw three TIE fighters explode into ionized gas almost simultaneously. And just as those balls of fire had ignited, they disappeared. Our unit had better be more skillful than that, or luckier, thought Steth as he increased his throttle slightly.

Ahead of him, Post had reached the Y-wing formation and plunged into the maelstrom with wild abandon. He had just knocked out the lead Y-wing’s shields, when a red laser from one of the attacking bogeys lanced through the cockpit of his TIE. And just like that, Post Kaster was, theoretically, no more.

“I knew it,” Steth whispered to himself. He watched with horror as Bri struggled, pathetically, to shake the Y-wing that had vaped Post.

Steth glanced at his HUD and did some quick arithmetic in his head.

“Eight, I’m going after Six. Those Y-wings won’t be in range of the Vengeance for another thirty seconds,” Steth figured.

“But if we can’t make it back in time, we’ll never stop that attack,” Grifter complained as he saw four more red dots disappear from his HUD.

He’s right. “Ok Grifter you stay here and guard the Vengeance. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If they start launching their proton torpedoes, radio me and then just try to spike them,” Steth concluded.

“You want me to pick off explosive projectiles that are traveling three times faster than my own ship?” Grifter asked, astonished.

“Well, yes,” was all Steth come back with.

“And here I thought you were going to give me a difficult order,” Grifter chided his friend and he throttled down to wait for the immanent attack.

Steth smiled and that remark but that smile soon faded as he saw a laser blast from a Y-wing melt half of Bri’s solar fin.

“Bri, I'm right behind you, but I need your help,” Steth told her in a very soothing and relaxed voice, “I need you to force this guy into a turn so I can hit him broad-side. On three. Ready?”

“Ready, Seven,” came her very shaky reply.

“One!” Steth duel-linked his lasers, “Two!” He placed his finger over the firing stud, “Three!”

Bri TIE, suddenly, pulled up sharply. The Y-wing, being less maneuverable, started its long, wide climb in pursuit of Bri. That was exactly what Steth was looking for. He now had a bird’s eye view of the Y-wing and as soon as his crosshairs lit green, Steth pressed the firing stud harder than he thought was humanly possible. A green hell erupted from his duel laser cannons. The first volley of about four blasts splashed along the Y-wing’s tough outer shields. But once they had failed, Steth’s green attack hit the cockpit of the bomber, totally melting any metal, or person, in its way. The remaining hulk of the Y-wing flew off on a wild trajectory under its own inertia.

When Steth finally became aware of the situation around him again, it was too late.

“Seven this is Eight. I got at least 24 torpedoes coming at me. There’s no way I can stop them. No, wait there is a way. See you on the flip side guys,” was Grifter cryptic remark.

Steth watched from afar as Grifter positioned himself between the torpedoes and the Vengeance. The lead missiles exploded when they hit his TIE fighter. But, amazingly, the next few torpedoes hit the cloud of super-charged ions Grifter’s fighter had made, and they exploded as well. In total, Grifter had taken out about eight torpedoes.

While Steth was watching this, Bri’s voice cut in. “Steth I got a bogey on my ta…” and then static.

“Stang!” Steth swore as he flip-rolled his TIE. He didn’t know where this enemy was, but he did know that if he remained on a straight-line trajectory, he was done for. So Steth did what all new pilots do. He panicked. He dove, then climbed, then spun, and climbed again.

While Steth was performing his erratic evasive maneuvers, the remaining torpedoes hit the Vengeance. Four torpedoes ripped through each shield tower above the bridge, thus totally obliterating them. The Vengeance was, now, defenseless. The last ten missiles impacted all along the Destroyer’s hull and a few sliced through the bridge itself.

Steth was totally unaware of this event, however, because four Y-wings had converged on him. His HUD showed that he was the last remaining friendly fighter alive. And after the Vengeance finally lost all power, his HUD showed him as the last Imperial ship of any kind. That’s comforting, he sarcastically thought, Even if I vape all four of these guys, there’s no where to dock.

Once again, though, he found himself diving on an unsuspecting Y-wing. He fired his lasers again and was rewarded when the lasers punched through the bomber’s shields and on into the R-2 unit behind the cockpit. That was the last thing Steth saw as his entire cockpit glared red for a nanosecond and then reverted to darkness. Only this time, the stars were missing.

His cockpit opened and bright light shined in. He stepped out, and had to wait a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they finally did, he found that Grifter was right beside him, standing at attention. He was also surprised to find that Commander Sawet was looking directly at him. Steth clicked his heels together and straightened his stance, despite the exhaustion he felt.

“Glad you could join us, Cadet,” he coldly remark. Sawet then spun around and pointed to the screen above the entrance to the room. “Your scores and kills are listed there, and will be transferred to your data pad.” His mood changed slightly as he continued, “This was a trial by fire, so to speak. The odds were against you, despite the two to one advantage. While you were supposed to last longer than thirty seconds,” with this, he glared at a group of cadets to Steth’s left, “you were not expected to accomplish the mission objective.”

“Surprisingly, two of you made decisions that were on par with trained and even veteran pilots. Theta Six, step forward.”

Without hesitation, Grifter advanced.

“You showed a very mature attitude when you decided to sacrifice yourself for the Vengeance,” Sawet then turned to the rest of the cadets, “This is a example you should all follow. Sacrificing one’s self for the greater good is not only an advanced way of thinking, it’s the Empire standard. You all will eventually need to adopt this attitude, or you will not graduate from this academy,” Sawet finished.

“Theta Seven, step forward.”

“Sir,” Steth replied as he advanced.

“You have shown leadership abilities that surpass your current training. These methods were not the most effective possible, but it did show that you are thinking, and not just taking orders from others. Therefor, I am temporarily naming you Squadron Leader. You official rank is still Cadet and you are still assigned to your current unit. But in next few training exercises, you will issue the orders for the entire squadron.”

Everyone stared at Steth for a few moments. Grifter finally broke the silence by applauding Steth. Soon everyone was clapping.

When the applause died out, Sawet spoke again, “ But if you screw up, you’ll be doing droid work for the next month.” A small smile crept over his face, as if telling Steth this brought him pleasure. “Dismissed” mumbled the Commander.

A few hours later, the pilots of Unit One, Theta Squadron were sitting on their beds discussing the day’s events.

“I still can’t believe what you did Grifter. That was genius!” Bri exclaimed. She was, as usual, in the arms of Post; they were both sitting in the bottom bunk.

“It was really nothing. I mean, it’s just a simulation. In real life, I don’t know if I’d be so generous with my life,” Grifter responded from the top bunk, feet dangling down in Steth’s face.

“I have to admit, I never thought that was your style. Usually you get simu-vaped by accident,” Steth casually joked.

“Hey I’ve come a long way since those little games we used to play,” Grifter retaliated, taking a little offense to Steth’s teasing.

“So it seems.”

“I would’ve stopped that attack if someone had been covering me,” Post said as he glared at Bri for a second.

“I know Post. I’m really sorry I let you down,” Bri replied with obvious regret and sorrow.

“Yeah I've been meaning to talk to you about this Post. I don’t want to get in the way of your… creativity, but what you did today was bordering on stupidity. Normally I wouldn’t care how you go about your training but, for now, I'm Squad Leader, so it’s now my duty to ask you. What the hell were you doing? You know better than to go up against six shielded Y-wings by yourself!” Steth wondered with a slight edge in his voice.

“Hey, my attack would’ve worked if you guys…” Post was cut off by his girlfriend.

“Steth, it was my fault. I should have covered him. Please don’t blame Post. Blame me,” Bri pleaded.

Steth was about to push the issue, but something in Bri’s eyes told him that to reprimand Post for what she believed was her fault, hurt her.

“Well, alright. But if you two are going to be pairing off in an attack again, you guys better work on your communication.”

“We will,” Bri exclaimed cheerfully, then assumed a mock-formal tone and threw Steth a salute, “Squad Leader, sir!”

Everyone started laughing.

Later that night, Steth awoke suddenly when he became aware of a presence. All he found, though, was Grifter’s head hanging down from the top bunk.

Through the darkness he whispered, “Hey you awake?”

“I am now,” Steth replied as he rubbed his eyes, “what’s up?”

“I was just wondering what you think is going on with Post and Bri. I mean, come on Steth. We both know that Post’s ego got in the way of his judgement. It had nothing to do with Bri.”

“Yeah I know. And I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe Bri just didn’t want a fight to start. But the odd thing about it, she actually seemed to believe that I really was blaming the wrong person. Either she’s really stupid, which I doubt, or there’s something else going on here.” Steth fell back asleep wondering just what that “something” was.

The training continued. Steth still wasn’t making the most strategic commands, but his wingmen were following them. Strategy could be learned but Steth had something you couldn’t learn: the respect of your wingmen. Grifter didn’t have any more suicide attempts but he did improve on his flying. On many occasions, Steth had Grifter to thank for saving his simu-life. Bri showed herself to be a natural behind the stick. During an attack on a simu-Mon Calamari Cruiser, she took out eight X-wings and raked laser fire across the cruiser, taking out ten turbo laser emplacements along its hull. But for some reason, most of the squadron started ignoring her and, at times, even mocked her when she started to perform better in the simulator. Everyone seemed to improve. Everyone except Post. His flying was adequate but he had little, if any, respect for Steth. In fact, it seemed as though the only person he did respect was himself. He would constantly belay Steth’s orders, at times issuing his own orders. This confused the rest of the squadron. They had to pick between the more aggressive, and therefor more appealing, order and the order given to them by their leader. This caught the attention of Commander Sawet.

“… And finally, simulator four will be repaired by tomorrow. Is there anything else?” Silence. “Alright then. Dismissed. 3243827 may I have a word with you?”

Once everyone had filtered out of the simulator room, Steth snapped a salute at he Commander. “Yes, sir?”

“Mr. Norun is it? I don’t believe we have spoken outside of briefing and training sessions. We have something to talk about.” Sawet cryptically remarked.

Confused and slightly worried, Steth responded, “Sir?”

“This 9042846, Post Kaster, seems to be giving you some trouble.”

“Yes, sir. I have tried to stop him from being so reckless and insubordinate, but all attempts have failed,” Steth admitted.

“Normally, if this were a Star Destroyer, he would be dishonorably discharged. But I'm afraid that it doesn’t work that way here. The other pilots seem to want to follow his orders as well as yours. He does have adequate flying skills for his level of training. I'm taking a chance here, but on the next training mission, he’s got the lead.” Sawet finished.

Steth’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure you want to do that?” Steth blurted out. Sawet eyed him for a few seconds. “Sir?” Steth added.

“Are you questioning my judgment, Cadet?” Sawet angrily shot back.

“N-no, sir.”

“I would hope not. You are dismissed.”

“He did what?” Grifter practically screamed.

“That’s right,” Steth responded.

“Crazy, just crazy.”

“Everyone hear the great news?” Bri announced as she came sprinting into the bunker.

“Yeah we heard,” the other two snapped in unison.

“I’m so happy. We are going to be the best squadron on Carida now that Post’s leading us,” she exclaimed.

Grifter cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean any disrespect Steth. You understand.”

At first, Steth was slightly hurt but he let a smile come to his face. “Don’t worry about it.”

Post then came strutting in, a wide smirk on his face.

“Yes we heard,” Grifter remarked.

“Good. I plan on changing our squadron strategy. We’ve got to be more aggressive if we are going to be one of the better squadrons,” Post said.

Steth shrugged, as if that action would take away some of the sting to his ego. “It’s your squadron…now,” he commented casually.

The cool Caridian night air blew past Steth’s face as he sat on the highest balcony he could find on the Navy campus. His feet propped up on the guardrail, he silently thought to himself. Carida’s orange sun had just dipped below the surrounding cityscape, but there was no absence of light. All around him, Steth could see artificial light, some from buildings, some from ships. He watched as a Lambda-class shuttle slowly rose into the air with its repulsor-lift engines. Once it reached Steth’s altitude, it opened its s-foil wings and made its way toward space.

Steth was so transfixed by the sounds and sights around him, that he didn’t even notice Grifter coming up behind him.

“So this is where you’ve been,” Grifter commented, mostly to get Steth’s attention. Slightly startled, Steth looked over his shoulder but didn’t move otherwise.

“And leave it to you to find me,” Steth shot back with a smile, “Pull up a chair.”

Grifter grabbed the nearest chair and swung it around so that he was sitting in it backwards. He folded his arms over the backrest and observed Steth for a few moments in silence. He watched as Steth studied things beyond the balcony, but every time he tried to trace Steth’s line of sight, he found nothing of much interest.

Grifter broke the silence with, “Credit for your thoughts.”

Steth’s eyes never left whatever they were focusing on, and he didn’t speak for a few seconds. Grifter again turned and watched the city’s activities when Steth finally spoke.

“I don’t care, really. I mean, being the squad leader was never what I really wanted to begin with,” Steth admitted off-handedly. Grifter just assumed that he was trying to make himself feel better about the situation as Steth went on. “That’s what you thought was on my mind, right?” Steth asked as he turned away from his focus to look at Grifter with a grin.

“I guess so. Just figured you were down about it, so you came out here,” Grifter told him with a shrug. “It’s normal to feel that way.”

Steth kicked his feet off the guardrail and turned his chair to face his friend. “Oh, I know it is, but like I said, I really don’t care. I'm here to learn how to be a pilot. I'm not here to play mind games with my fellow cadets. No, I had other things on my mind.” With that, Steth turned again to the view and propped his feet back up.

It took another minute or two for Grifter to ask what those things were.

“Actually, everything, besides this squadron rank thing. This place looks a lot like Kuat. Reminds me of the past,” Steth remarked as his gaze, once again, focused on nothing in particular.

“I know what you mean. I thought the same thing when I got here,” Grifter paused for a moment. “Your parents?”

Nothing was said for a short while. Grifter again joined him in studying a unit of TIE fighters streak by. Steth lowered his head and began staring at his open palms. “What if it never happened? What if I had had normal life? How would things be different?”

“Things may not have changed. You wanted to be a pilot when we were kids anyway.”

Steth shook his head. “Actually, I really wanted to become a medic. Killing never really sat well with me. I guess I grew up while I lived with Trent.”

“We all grew up.” Another silence. “Are you really here to kill, though?” Grifter asked cautiously.

It hurt Steth to admit it. “Yes. I don’t want to, but it’s the only way I can avenge my parents death.” Steth closed his eyes to the point of where it hurt and continued. “I couldn’t sleep for months after it happened. All I dreamt about was what I imagined to be what the explosion looked liked. Over and over it would play in my head like a bad holo-recording. The only thing that changed was the camera angle. Every night I would see inside a different part of the house as the bomb went off. I dreaded the nights I saw the kitchen. Having to see their bodies ripped apart by the fire and…” Steth trailed off. He hid his face in his hands to hold back the tears. He finally looked up, visibly shaken. “Trent showed me that the only way to make it stop, the only way I can make the pain and the visions stop, was to kill the people responsible for it. It made me feel good to simu-vape those rebels. Sometimes I would program the computer to simulate human responses during battle. I would switch my comm. frequency and listen to the rebel pilots scream as I cut through their cockpit with my lasers. I wish I wasn’t like this, but I am.” Silence. “Why are you here?” Steth asked, mostly to get his mind off himself.

Grifter was taken aback by this admission. It took him a few seconds to absorb it all. “I, uh, I'm here because I always wanted to fly. You remember my stories about how I was going to be able to fly rings around Darth Vader someday. Well now’s my chance to learn.” Grifter responded.

“And the killing?”

“Well, that’s the price I have to pay so that I get to fly the fastest starfighters around.” Grifter sighed. “Ya know, I have no idea how hard it was for you to lose your parents like that, but the way I see it, this hatred of yours is going to eat away at you forever. You remember that kid, Pavet Beelo?” Steth nodded. He had been a real mean kid when they had been in elementary school. “Well, he beat the daylights out of me once. I went home and literally planned his death. My dad walked in on me and taught me a very important lesson. He told me that revenge never ends. You keep trying and trying but no matter what you do, the hatred won’t go away. And even if you end up killing everyone you hate, it’s still there, burning you from the inside out. If you’re not careful, you could go up in smoke.” With that, Grifter stood and left the balcony. As Steth heard the metallic whoosh of the door closing behind Grifter, he leaned forward on the guardrail and began to cry into his arm.

Months went by quickly. Under the direction of Post Kaster, the squadron did, in fact, rise to become one of the better training groups in the academy. Theta squadron had been in existence for about a year when Commander Sawet had to make some important decisions.

“So, you understand your orders, Commander?” came the dark voice over the holo-connection accompanied by the mechanical hiss of an automatic respirator.

“Yes, my lord, but I’m still telling you that none of them are ready yet,” Sawet replied.

“Get them ready Commander. If they fail, you fail.” The connection was abruptly severed. Sawet reclined in his chair and considered his predicament.

“Break left, Eight!” Steth shouted at his friend. Grifter complied without question, trusting Steth’s observation. Steth flipped his TIE fighter until it was in a formation right behind the enemy A-wing. He wasted no time in blasting through the rear shields of the craft. He had just hit the engines of the bogey, causing it to careen off course, when he saw the Rebel platform start to go up in flames, pieces of it breaking off into space. The TIE bombers, that had done the platform in, veered away and set a course back to the Nebulon-B frigate Fearless. Steth and his unit breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the remaining A-wings and X-wings prepare to make their jump into hyperspace.

“This is the Fearless. Good work Theta and Gamma squadrons. Return to the hanger immediately for debriefing,” Sawet spoke over the comm.

As he entered the hanger bay of the frigate, the cockpit light blinked off and the exit hatch opened. Steth stepped out just in time to see the last of the Gamma squadron pilots leave the simulation room. They were ok, but not nearly as good as us. We made that bomber run last week without a single loss, Steth thought as he looked up at the kill board to see that Gamma squadron had lost five of its twelve TIE bombers.

“Attention!” Sawet yelled from the front of the room. Everyone snapped their bodied into a rigid posture. “Before I go on, I want to make it perfectly clear that what I'm about to say goes against everything I believe in. You scrubs aren’t nearly as good as you need to be…” Sawet paused for a moment before continuing. “You are, however, the best training squadron we currently have here on Carida.”

“I have orders from up top to advance the best squadrons to the status of ‘combat ready’. You will be transferred, effective immediately, to the Victory-class Star Destroyer Revenge…” When this was mentioned Grifter glanced over at Steth, who had a look of pain on his face. “…and there you will be flying TIE interceptors and bombers. If you need more practice with these types of craft, I suggest you familiarize yourself with them in the simulators tonight. Your departure time is oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow at docking bay three. I wish you all luck. You will need it.” Sawet repeated from his first briefing with them. “Dismissed!”

The members of Theta Squadron arrived at docking bay three, almost simultaneously, at six in the morning. Ten minutes later, they were on board the Revenge in an orbit around Carida. As soon as they set foot on the black, metallic bulkheads, they found themselves surrounded by hundreds of stormtroopers, about twenty officers, and one other squadron of TIE pilots. Someone yelled, “Attention!” and everyone instinctively clicked their heels together. Directly in front of Steth, and about ten meters away, a door quickly opened and, for a moment, only darkness could be seen behind it. Two small red dots appeared in the shadows and grew in size as each click of a boot-step was heard. The shadow, suddenly, melted away to reveal the captain of the Revenge.

The blue-skinned, black-haired alien spoke, “Welcome, Cadets. I am Captain Thrawn.”

The First Assignment

“I should amend that title, though. You were chosen to become ‘combat ready’ early because of certain…situations. Therefor, I am now hereby advancing you all to the rank of Flight Officer,” Thrawn began. An officer appeared at his side and whispered something to him. Thrawn’s expression never changed. A “thank you” was barely audible and Thrawn continued, “I’m afraid I’ll have to make this brief. The squadron you will be partnered with is Devil Squadron. They are fairly experienced so listen to what they have to say. We will be leaving in ten minutes for the Sullust system. I suggest you get yourselves and your fighters prepped for immediate launch upon arrival,” he finished. “Dismissed,” he said almost as a side comment.

The flight deck was very busy as Devil Squadron, Theta Squadron, and the rest of the deck technicians raced to prepare for the upcoming battle. No one knew who the enemy was or why they were going to fight, but it didn’t matter. Their job was only to follow orders, nothing more. But still there was the curiosity.

“Why would we need to go to the Sullust system. Have they gone Rebel now too?” Steth called to Grifter from across launch bay.

“I have no idea.” Grifter paused and thought for a moment. “You realize of course that we aren’t supposed to care why we are throwing our lives away. If the galaxy were ‘perfect’, us military types would charge blindly into battle with not a care in the universe. Wasn’t there an old Imperial proverb? Something like ‘Ours is not to reason why…” Grifter began when Steth jumped in.

“…Just to do and to die. Yeah, yeah I know. I got to tell ya that that doesn’t help much,” Steth shouted over the loud roaring on the flight deck.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to,” Grifter shot back.

Once everyone was in their flight suits and ready for combat, they just stood and waited by their fighters. Each pilot looked like death itself, with only the white Imperial insignia breaking the solid black of their helmeted uniforms. Steth looked around him and shuddered. He was intimidated by everyone else just from looking at them, and he was on their team. They should dress stormtroopers like this. People wouldn’t even put up a fight against soldiers that look like us.

Steth heard the crackle of static fill the bay and he listened intently for instructions. “Attention all TIE pilots! This is Commander Etdan. We will be in orbit around the planet Sullust in six minutes, thirty seconds. We are here in the aftermath of a Rebel uprising. A group of four hundred Sullustans have forcefully taken possession of an Imperial garrison. Your mission objectives are to neutralize or destroy the garrison and any attacking craft. Devil Squadron will fly the TIE bombers in an attack against the garrison while Theta Squadron flies escort in the TIE interceptors. You will be launched from orbit and you are to proceed through the atmosphere to the ground base. This is a cut and dry mission. Losses will not be tolerated. Prepare for launch.” More static and then silence. The black clad pilots jumped to life as they began to climb aboard their fighters.

Steth climbed the ladder that lead to the top of the ball cockpit of his interceptor. He pushed a button and the hatch popped opened just enough for him to slip his fingers underneath. With little effort, Steth pushed the hatch open and vaulted into the cockpit. He flicked a few switches and the craft came to life. Post’s voice filled Steth’s helmet. “Ok, we are launching first. I want Unit One in the lead on scout duty. Two klicks should be enough distance. Units Two and Three, we’re going to form a perimeter around the bomber formation. If we encounter no resistance, I want every fighter to still be in formation with the bombers when we re-enter the hangar. If we do get shot at, I want everyone to call their man and split up. Stay close to the bombers at all times. And like the man said: no losses. The price for getting hit is twenty credits per laser blast. And I will collect.” Post’s grin was obvious even over the comm.

Steth flexed his hands to get them loose. Suddenly, the Star Destroyer lurched forward as it exited hyperspace. The huge launch bay doors slowly opened and the magnetic seal that held the air pressure in replaced it. As Steth throttled up, the piercing shrill of the ion engines made him wince. I guess simulators can’t simulate everything, he thought. It was his turn to launch within a matter of seconds. He throttled up and shot out of the Revenge like a red bolt from a stormtrooper rifle. He fell into formation behind Bri and readied his systems for combat. Post’s voice once again came over the frequency, “Sign in boys and girl!”

Bri’s displeasure at being singled out by Post’s casual remark was evident. “Theta Six standing by!” came her annoyed reply as she slammed her fist down on the comm., shutting it off abruptly. “… Theta Eleven standing by…Theta Two standing by…” After all of Theta Squad checked in, an unfamiliar voice filled Steth’s headset.

“This is Devil leader. Send out your scouts and we can get this party started,” came the veteran’s voice.

“As ordered, Devil Lead. Ok, everyone, all weapons are live and the target is hot. Proceed with mission.”

Steth watched as the four TIE interceptors from Unit One of Theta squadron dove toward the atmosphere of Sullust.

After a few moments, Post spoke again. “Alright, they are at the two klick mark, let’s get going.” At that moment, the remaining twenty TIEs lurched forward and started in their pursuit of the scouts. Steth had to keep his throttle at half thrust so that he wouldn’t outrun the bombers. As the first few fighters of the attack swarm hit the thickness of Sullust’s volcanic atmosphere, the scout group reported in.

“Theta One here. Nothing, yet, Squad Leader. I'm detecting no alien engine emissions. We’ve hit ground level and are proceeding…wait…I now read four Z-95 Headhunters on a direct intercept course. Orders?” Theta One insisted.

“Break and engage Unit One! We’ll be there in thirty seconds!” Post yelled into his comm.

“Right, Lead. But this might be over in thirty seconds. Hurry!” came One’s response.

“Are they the only bogeys out there?” Post asked to no one in particular.

Various forms of “yes” came back in response. “Good. Theta Squadron, throttle up and engage those fighters!”

Steth couldn’t contain himself. “But what about the bombers?”

“The only enemies out there are those four Headhunters. I will not tolerate even one lost fighter so we are going to make sure that we overwhelm them. The bombers will be fine.”

“As ordered, Lead,” was all Steth could come up with.

The interceptors hit ground level at, what seemed like, a ninety-degree angle. But at the last second, all eight fighters pulled up and skimmed the ground as they proceeded toward the engagement area.

A dogfight abruptly raised above the horizon. About three kilometers opposite the dogfight, the captured Imperial garrison stood resolutely.

“Call your men!” Post ordered

“I got number three!” Steth shouted as he angled his interceptor toward his target. All the other pilots, then, called out which Headhunter they wanted to vape. Three to one odds. Guess I can’t complain, Steth thought with a small grin. He set his lasers to quad fire.

The odds alone must have scared the Rebel pilots because as soon as all twelve interceptors of Theta Squadron arrived, they immediately started flying very defensively. As Steth closed in on his panic-stricken enemy, he was pleased to see two green dots disappear from his HUD display. Just as he got within firing range, Grifter sideswiped Steth’s target, taking out his shields entirely.

“Didn’t think you’d mind the help,” came Grifter’s excited voice.

“Never do,” Steth responded as he pressed the firing stud on his flight stick. Four green laser blasts shot out ahead of him and impacted on the fleeing Headhunter. From where Steth was watching, it looked as though the fighter’s engines just decided that it was time to power down. And so the once deadly Headhunter became a harmless rocketing piece of scrap metal.

Steth smiled for a moment and when he glanced at his HUD, he saw that all four enemies had been vaped. He breathed a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on the flight stick.

“Devil Lead, this is Theta Lead. Sector is clear. You may begin your attack run,” Post announced with pride.

“Copy, Theta Leader. Nice work,” came Devil Lead’s response.

“Ok, Theta Squad, power down ion engines and engage repulsor lifts. Sit back and enjoy the fireworks.” Post said casually.

All twelve fighters hovered motionless a kilometer above the ground as the bomber squadron sped by them. Suddenly, the bombardment began. Devil Squadron launched their proton torpedoes simultaneously. Looks like a big blue ribbon, Steth thought to himself. Just as the first wave of torpedoes hit the garrison, large groups of Sullustans poured out of the building. They began firing their blasters into the air in a vain attempt to hit one of the bombers.

Steth noticed other pilots in his squadron laughing and joking over the comm. frequency about the pitiful Sullustan display. But Steth was in no joking mood. You’ve lost, dammit! Give it up! Stop fighting! Animals! That’s all they are! Steth thought with increasing anger. Without a word, Steth throttled up to full thrust and headed toward the, now, flaming garrison.

“What the hell are you doing, Seven? Get back here!” Post screamed.

Steth’s only response was to turn off his squadron frequency completely. As he neared the desperate Rebels, he dove and started firing volley after volley of laser fire at them. If you won’t surrender like civilized people, then you will die like the animals that you are, Steth thought as he continued his murderous rampage. Steth was so intent on his new mission that the voice that came into his headset seemed to awaken him from a trance that he didn’t even know he was in.

“Mission objectives complete. Return to the Revenge immediately for debriefing,” Commander Etdan ordered bluntly.

Steth shook his head violently to regain coherent thought. He, then, angled his TIE interceptor straight up into the air, toward the orbiting Victory-class Star Destroyer.

“What in the name of Tarkin’s ghost was that all about?” Grifter asked immediately after removing his helmet.

Steth had no answer for his friend. He just continued with his post-flight maintenance checks. He had a look on his face as though he had aged fifty years. Grifter stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ok?” Grifter asked, concerned for his wingman.

Steth violently shrugged Grifter’s hand away. “We’re all here for different reasons, remember?” With that Steth stalked out of the room with a confidence he didn’t feel.

All the pilots aboard the Revenge met in the briefing room. They took their seats and waited patiently. Many of the other pilots stared at Steth with either confusion of resentment. Post practically radiated some of that resentment. The door to the room whooshed open and Captain Thrawn walked in accompanied by a stranger.

“This is Commander Etdan, the man that issued you your orders out there. He is in charge of the fighter squadrons here aboard the Revenge,” Captain Thrawn said in his usual calm manner. Commander Etdan looked to be a very robust energetic man. In fact, if not for his silver hair, Steth would have mistaken him for a younger member of Devil Squadron. Thrawn continued, “Now, onto more immediate matters. Your mission against the captured Imperial garrison was a complete success. The base was destroyed and as we speak, a battalion of our stormtroopers is regaining order. I am aware that Commander Sawet back on Carida thought you, Theta squadron, were unprepared for battle. Today you have proven him wrong. If you had graduated through the normal process, this kind of performance would be expected, but since you were promoted early, your squadron, and especially your leader, Post Kaster, went above and beyond what was expected. Therefor I am promoting Mister Kaster to the rank of Lieutenant. Congratulations. We will be setting off for the Sluis Van system for routine guard duty as soon as everything here is in order. That is all; you are dismissed.”

Devil Squadron got up and headed for the exit as some of the Theta Squadron pilots went over to shake Post’s hand. Steth took one look at the cocky pilot with his girlfriend slung over his arm, almost like an ornament, and decided he didn’t care to shake his courageous leader’s hand.

Steth stared at his data pad, focusing on what it said. He had gotten a kill in his first mission. Some called that luck, but he knew he couldn’t have done it with out the rest of the squadron, especially Grifter, backing him up. But what surprised him is that Bri had gotten two kills. That was not only lucky, it was unheard of for a rookie pilot. And yet Post received the promotion.

Oh well, Steth thought as he tossed the pad aside, as long as she continues to perform like that, she’s bound to get notices sooner or later. He was still dressed in the uniform he wore underneath his flight suit. His skin was itching from the dried sweat of the recent battle and he decided he needed to change. He had just finished unbuttoning his pants when Captain Thrawn walked in, almost silently. Steth looked up in shock and immediately snapped into a formal salute, only his pants didn’t follow his quick action.

“Sir!” Steth practically yelled.

“At ease, officer, and for Palpatine’s sake, pull up your pants.” Thrawn said with an amused look on his face.

“Yes, sir!”

“I was just wondering what it was you were trying to accomplish with your, how shall I put this, over-enthusiasm during our last mission.”

“Sir, the Sullustan Rebels were firing at the bombers. I felt it necessary to divert their attention away from the attack on their base.”

“First off, the bombers were about two klicks above ground level, way out of range of the Sullustans. Secondly, you and I both know that even if the bombers were at ground level, hand blasters would do no damage to them.” Thrawn said with a slight edge in his voice.

Steth had no response for the Captain so he just stood at attention until Thrawn continued. “I don’t know what it was you were trying to accomplish, but from now on you are to follow your flight leader’s orders. Understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Steth shouted.

“Sorry to have disturbed you in your quarters, officer. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

As Thrawn left, Steth continued to undress. He had just removed his pants when someone else walked into the bunker.

“Bri!” Steth squeaked as he searched furiously for his pants again.

“Oh, hi Steth. I was just…” She trailed off as her eyes slowly scanned down Steth’s body. She smiled slightly but continued as if everything were normal. “…just looking for a holo-camera.”

Steth yanked his pants up again and then considered what Bri was saying. “Camera? Oh yeah, a camera…here use mine,” Steth said as he reached for the top drawer of his dresser.

“You do know there’s a party going on in the mess hall, don’t you?” Bri asked.

“Yeah I know. Wasn’t interested.”

“Why not?”

Steth regarded her for a moment. He then decided that it was ok to speak his mind. “Don’t take offense to this, but the less time I spend around your boyfriend, the better my day is.”

“What? You don’t like him?” Bri asked, perplexed.

“No, not really. To be honest, Grifter and I don’t know why you do. He’s obviously treating you like bantha dung.”

“N-no he isn’t. He’s a very sweet guy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is when he’s not blaming you for his mistakes or telling you what to do and when to do it,” Steth shot back sarcastically.

“I…I don’t believe what you’re saying…I…have to go,” she said, obviously disoriented.

Steth reached out and grabbed her hand. “Bri, I’m being brutally honest here, I know, but you have to listen to me. He isn’t good for you.”

“You’re being brutal, alright. But you don’t know what you’re talking about. Just…don’t talk to me…” she cried, violently twisting her wrist out of his hand.

“Bri!” But she was already gone.

Somewhat more melancholy than when he first started, Steth resumed studying the battle statistics.

The Beginning of the End

The Sullustan incident turned out to be one of the more exciting times Steth had experienced so far on his time on the Revenge. Guarding the shipyards of Sluis Van was comparatively boring. His days consisted of getting up, getting in his flight uniform, circumnavigating Sluis Van ten times, returning to the hangar, filling out a report of how uneventful his flight was, and then going to bed. They advanced us to ‘combat ready’ so that we could fly rings around a docile planet? Steth would often wonder. One afternoon Post made the announcement that they were no longer Theta Squadron. “From now on, we will strike, or rather stab, fear into the hearts of those Rebel scum. We are now Dagger Squadron!” This seemed as good a name as any to Steth.

“Head into the atmosphere and check out the anti-grav ball game score, would ya, Eight?” Steth remarked with a yawn. Grifter and him were on their usual circuit around Sluis Van while Post and Bri were on the opposite side of the planet doing more of the same.

“Roger, Seven. But I'm willing to bet that the Sluis Van Renegades are up by at least 5 points.”

“How much would you be willing to bet?” Steth returned with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Ok, I’ll be right back.”

Steth watched as Grifter’s TIE interceptor suddenly dipped into a vector aimed at Sluis Van. As he was headed down through the atmosphere, Grifter noticed a freighter making its way out of the atmosphere and into space. He took little notice of it as the clouds parted and he spotted the anti-grav ball stadium. Steth caught sight of the freighter a few seconds later as it hit the icy depth of space. He watched as it slowly crawled to its hyperspace jump point.

Steth’s attention had drifted to other matters when, suddenly, alarm claxons started blaring through his cockpit. Disoriented for a moment, he finally gathered himself and checked his HUD. Sure enough, eight blue dots had appeared on his starboard side. His CMD identified them as R-41 StarChasers, a ship well known for being the favorite of pirates galaxy-wide. It also appeared that their target was the freighter. Almost as if the freighter pilot could read his mind, Steth found his comm. blinking. He pressed the switch that opened the comm. to the civilian frequency.

“This is the medium transport Granald’s Excursion calling any spacecraft. I am under attack by pirates. Please respond!” the pilot cried desperately.

“This is the Star Destroyer Revenge, civilian transport. We are making our way to you now. All recon TIE interceptors, engage those enemy fighters until we can get the rest of our fighters launched,” Commander Etdan calmly ordered from the security of his Imperial constructed safe-haven.

Alright, all I have to do is not get dead, Steth thought to himself, Just got to hold ‘em until Revenge can get here.

Grifter came shooting out from the planet’s atmosphere as if he had been fired from a cannon. “It’s thirty-four to fourteen, Sluis Van. I told you, man. You owe me,” he said with a grin.

Steth assumed that Grifter hadn’t heard the alert due to his light mood. He was about to hail his friend and tell him that they were in deep bantha dung, when Grifter’s lasers, unexpectedly, sliced through one of the StarChasers with uncanny accuracy.

“What are you waiting for, Seven? Let’s get this show started!” Grifter cried in an emphatic voice. Collecting his thoughts, Steth throttled up and fell into a wild pursuit of one of the pirates.

Steth thought that he faintly remembered hearing Post say, “We’ll be there in ten seconds, Eight. Hold tight,” but he wasn’t sure. All he was worried about was shaking the StarChaser that had latched itself to his tail. He rolled and juked, but to no avail. He saw another object coming straight for him and was about to press his firing stud. Fortunately, Steth decided to target the object before firing. Good thing, too, he thought as his CMD identified the oncoming craft as Dagger Six, Bri. The only word said in those few seconds that held Steth’s life in its hands were of Bri screaming, “Now!” Right on cue, Steth pulled up so fast that he momentarily blacked out. But it didn’t matter because his pursuer no longer existed. The only remains of that poor pirate were the chunks of metal alloys that had once been a starfighter, now super-cooled by the frigid cold of space. Steth came to in a few seconds to hear Post yelling, “…ack in the fight, dammit!” And he followed that order. His blackout had caused him to drift about five klicks away from the dogfight. From this vantage point, and as he made his way back to battle, he watched with a dropped jaw as Bri single handedly destroyed six of the remaining seven pirates. Before he even got back into the furball, it was over. The last bandit saw that all of his comrades had been vaped and he promptly turned tail and ran.

“Let him go, guys,” Post said in an exhausted voice.

A few minutes later, the Revenge came sailing over Sluis Van’s horizon with a dozen TIEs escorting it. “Thank you Imperial ships. I am in your debt,” was all the freighter pilot said before he jumped into hyperspace.

“Marvelous, work Unit Two. Dock with the Revenge for debriefing immediately.”

“And in closing, I’d like to once again congratulate Officer Delphi for hitting the ‘ace’ mark today. Ok, I think that’s it. Dismissed.” Commander Etdan finished. What Steth found so puzzling is that there was no word of Bri’s accomplishment in the debriefing. It was as if no one even knew that she killed six shielded bogeys in two minutes. But Steth shrugged it off by assuming that she would be complimented for her performance privately by the Captain later.

But that never happened. Bri sat alone in her bunk wondering what she had to do to get attention. She wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew that the Imperial Navy didn’t like women among their ranks. But she never thought it would affect her. She thought it would be different, somehow. Back on her home planet of Yaga Minor, she had spent every last credit she earned on simulator lessons. And it had paid off. She was the best in either Dagger or Devil Squadron, no question. But did she get recognized for it? No! Of course I don’t. I never do, she thought to herself. With tears blurring her vision, she stood up and tried to make for the exit. But her emotions wouldn’t let her leave. Before she even knew it, she had thrown her fist into a nearby wall. She heard, rather than felt, the bones in her fingers buckle and snap.

A few minutes later, Post walked into the bunker and found her curled up into a ball and crying loudly. Looking up and seeing that Post had appeared, she got up and put on a fake smile.

“Hi, Post. What’s up?” she asked in a shaken voice.

“Uh…are you ok?” Post replied, uncertain.

“Of course,” she responded with an even bigger smile. But her smile soon melted away and tears threatened to return. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s about you being ignored isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah. I don’t know what I have to do to get noticed around here. I could stop the Rebellion single-handedly and still no one would mention my name. It isn’t fair!” she cried.

“Bri! Your hand is broken!”

“Yeah I know. I don’t care.”

After some coaxing, Bri finally relented and let Post take her to the sickbay. After a few splashes of bacta, they returned to the bunker.

“You know,” Post said with a slight grin, “I was going to wait and surprise you but I think this would be as good of a time as any.” He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a small pouch. Sitting down on the bed next to Bri, he opened the bag. At first, all Bri could see was a faint blue luminescence emanating from the pouch. Post reached in and pulled out, what looked like, a wire thin strand of blue light.

“A guy in Devil Squadron gave this to me. You know what it is?” Post asked. Bri slowly shook her head, never taking her eyes off the blue mystery. “It's called glitterstim. See, what you do is just bite down on this, and then for a few minutes, you can see into my mind.”

He held out the strand to her. She cautiously reached for it and held it in her hand as if it were a newborn child. She sniffed it a few times and then slowly put one end into her mouth. As she bit down, small blue sparks crackled between her teeth. She was tried to spit it out in fear, but the drug had already taken effect. She looked up at her lover and was instantly thrown back. She saw not only Post, but she felt him. She felt his emotions, his desires, his fears, his pride and his anger. She felt everything. But she not only felt them, she heard them, she saw them, she smelled them and she tasted them. For what seemed like eternity, she was herself and Post at the same time.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Post remarked with a grin. After observing her reaction to his little surprise, he bit down on his own piece of glitterstim. They sat there together, in the dark, and felt as if they were gods.

The Ambush

Glen Dertev sat, or rather lounged, in his seat. This was the “night watch”. The more important personnel aboard the Revenge were in bed, including the captain. The ship was basically running on a skeleton crew. With his feet propped above his scanner screen, Glen conversed back and forth with the lieutenant currently in command of the bridge. Then it happened.

“So there I was with a pure sabacc, and all I have to do is…” Glen was in mid-sentence when he heard a loud bleep coming from his console. He kicked his feet off his monitor so fast that he almost fell over backwards. What had, seconds before, been an entirely blank screen was now bright green.

“Holy hell! We got incoming! Two Nebulon-B frigates and a full squadron of x-wings. Get the captain up here fast!” Glen said as he ran across the bridge and slammed his palm down on the emergency alarm button.

Alarm claxons rang throughout the ship as Steth awoke, startled. He looked around and saw that everyone else was having the same reaction as he to the alarms. But saying nothing, he quickly got out of bed and stripped out of his sleepwear and into his flight suit.

Thrawn strode onto the bridge, still buttoning up his uniform. “Status,” he calmly ordered.

Glen bravely spoke up. “Sir, we have two frigates, the Honorable and the Righteous off our starboard accompanied by a squadron of x-wings that call themselves Rogue squadron. The Rogue leader wishes to speak with you.

“Very well, Mr. Dertev. Put him on,” Thrawn said as he stood in front of the main bridge viewport, staring at his adversary off to the right.

Static filled the bridge for a moment before a voice was heard. “Greetings Captain. We are here on behalf of the Rebel Alliance. We would be greatly honored if you would consider defection of your ship and crew to our cause. If you choose to defect, there will be no harm done to your crew. Captain, let us please try to get through this without any unnecessary bloodshed,” came a deliberately static-ridden voice.

“Thank you for your concern Rogue Leader. But I’m afraid all of us here are entirely loyal to the Emperor and we intend to guard this system with our lives if necessary. But good luck to you,” Thrawn spoke with a very even voice. He walked over to the comm. station and terminated the transmission.

The captain of the Revenge stood silently for over two minutes and thought to himself as he watched Rogue squadron and the two capital ships approach. With everyone on the bridge leaning forward in anticipation of their captain’s orders, Thrawn spoke. “Launch all fighters and tell them to remain close to the Revenge and wait for further orders. Helmsman, bring us to face with those frigates.”

“Yes, sir!” several crewmen yelled simultaneously.

Luke Skywalker looked on with disappointment as numerous TIE bombers poured out of the Revenge’s hangar bay. He never really thought that they would defect. They hardly ever did. But he always wanted to try to get through these sorts of confrontations with as little life lost as possible. Luke sighed and opened communication to the rest of his squadron. “Ok, Rogues, lock s-foils in attack position. Throttle up and engage those fighters while the Honorable and Righteous hit that Vic-Star.”

Today, it seemed, life would be lost.

Dagger squadron had just finished launching into space to join the Devil squadron bombers when the rest of their orders came through. “All TIE pilots, form a perimeter around the aft end of the Revenge. Do not let any fighters around to the aft section. That is all,” Commander Etdan ordered harshly.

Post spoke to Devil Leader privately for a moment and then addressed his own squadron. “Ok lets do it Daggers. We are going to guard the bridge while Devil guards the engines.”

Steth had no idea what was going on but he reminded himself that he didn’t have to know. All he had to do was follow orders. And so he did.

“Someone remind me. Nebulon-B frigates have very poor maneuverability, correct?” Thrawn asked, almost as if he were trying to brush up on his trivia knowledge.

Several people on the bridge responded with some form of “yes” in response. “Excellent,” he muttered as he steepled his fingers, still staring out the viewport into space. “Helmsman, set deflector shields to double-front and set the Revenge on a collision course with the Honorable, full thrust. Have the fighters guard our stern from those x-wings as we make our approach,” Thrawn ordered.

“Sir, are you sure…” someone started to ask.

“Yes, I am quite aware of what I'm doing. Just carry out my orders.”

“Admiral Blenda, the Revenge is on an intercept course with us,” someone called from his station.

“Very well. Tell the Righteous to rendezvous with us for a combined attack. Line us up at an angle that puts the most guns to bear on that ship. And tell the Righteous to do the same,” the admiral spoke as she leaned forward in her chair.

“But that would mean that we expose a lot of our hull to their guns. They’ll be able to broadside us,” someone contributed.

“Maybe so, but we’ll be ok with the Righteous’s help,” she assured her crew.

Luke became suddenly curious when none of the enemy fighters were attacking his Rogues. In fact, it seemed as though they had formed a ring around the Star Destroyer’s mid-section. “Alright, Rogues one through four attack those shield towers above the bridge. The rest us will fend off those fighters. Pick your targets and go!” Luke ordered as he quad-linked his laser cannons.

As Thrawn observed the battle about to take place, he smiled as he watched the frigates. “Standard broadside maneuver. It’s nice to know that even the Rebels have the good sense to use Imperial battle tactics. It’s also nice to know that these Rebels are very predictable,” he said to no one in particular.

He turned away from the battle and gave instructions to his crew. “I want all energy going towards maintaining the forward deflector shields. I want to ram them in that thin piece of hull connecting the bridge and engines to the rest of the ship. That should incapacitate them. As soon as they are out of the way, even out the shields, power up the turbolasers and focus all firepower on the Righteous. Also, when the shields are back up, order Devil squadron to make torpedo runs against the Righteous,” Thrawn said.

“Aye, sir” was the chorus he received in return.

“Don’t let any of them through, Daggers!” Post screamed as they were hit by a wave of Rogues. Two Daggers were vaporized in that one run alone. But they held true to their mission. Not one Rogue got near the shield towers. Every time one of the x-wings tried to line up for a torpedo run, a Dagger or a Devil was already plastering green energy over that x-wing’s rear shields. While only one Rogue was killed, almost all of them had little or no shields left and some were just barely in one piece.

Steth noticed that their dogfight had taken them almost to within point-blank range of the two frigates. Then he realized why they were guarding the aft section of the Revenge. It has no aft shields. It’s going to ram one of the frigates! “We got to stay clear of those capital ships!” he screamed into his comm. He stared for a moment at what was about to be a very large collision. But he couldn’t stare too long because a Rogue had just started firing at him.

“Admiral, it doesn’t look like they are planning on stopping!” one of Blenda’s lieutenants shouted. She stared for a moment at the Star Destroyer that was growing in size with every passing second. This can’t be right, she thought, That would be suicidal…unless… “Sithspawn! How could I have been so foolish?” she whispered to herself. She turned to her helmsman with a look of utter terror on her face. “Quick! Evasive maneuvers! Bring us about!” she shouted, adrenaline filling her body.

“All stations, brace for impact!” Thrawn yelled over numerous proximity alarms.

This time, all of the fighters, even the Rogues stopped what they were doing and watched in shock as the Revenge made its attack. The tip of its dagger-shaped form plunged into the thin corridor-like section of the Honorable.

Admiral Blenda turned around to face her crew with a tired look on her face. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say before the lights went out, the temperature dropped, the oxygen stopped pumping, and gravity control was lost. And those were the last intelligible words spoken aboard the Honorable as the entire bridge crew either froze or suffocated to death. But that battle continued.

Once the frigate was in two separate halves, neither of which functioned anymore, Thrawn sternly ordered, “Now!”

The shields, or what was left of them, equalized and the turbolasers fired with what looked like one long continuous burst.

Luke looked over at the remains of the Honorable. He closed his eyes and shook his head in sorrow. He then flipped on his comm. “Full retreat, Rogues. Hyper out of the combat area immediately. Repeat: full retreat.”

“Hit the hyperdrive, dammit!” the captain of the Righteous ordered. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was thrown back into his seat and saw the stars blur into bright lines. But that relief only lasted a few seconds.

Thrawn looked on as the Righteous rocketed away from the fight. He had mixed feelings about the outcome. On one hand, they had done their duty and protected Sluis Van from the Rebels. But on the other, they had let one of the frigates go, meaning the Rebels could use it again later to kill more Imperials. But that thought was interrupted as a brief explosion became visible off in the distance. It originated at exactly the point where the Righteous was supposed to have leapt into hyperspace.

“Sir, the Righteous has been total destroyed! It looks like their hyperdrive was damaged and they were torn apart when they tried to hit light speed.”

Well, I guess it hasn’t been such a bad day after all, Thrawn thought to himself, pleased.

The last of the Rogues were about to jump into hyperspace when something went wrong. For no reason, Bri started laughing hysterically. “That’s right you stinkin’ Rebels! Run! Ha ha ha ha!”

“Six, are you al…” Steth began. But before he could finish, Bri throttled up and pursued the remaining x-wings.

Derek “Hobbie” Klivian was just about to engage his hyperdrive when, out of no where, a TIE interceptor started shooting at him. His shields were already gone and one direct hit could mean instant death. “Rogue Leader I need assistance here. I got a bogey on my tail,” Hobbie impatiently told Luke.

Luke swung around behind the lone TIE. “Break now, Rogue Eight!” Luke ordered. Hobbie’s x-wing veered off on a wild trajectory as Luke opened his s-foils. With one pull of the trigger, Bri Jendo was no more.

“Noooo!” Steth yelled. Without thinking, he throttled up to pursue Skywalker, but it was too late. He was already way out of range.

Hobbie let out a sigh of relief. “That guy wasn’t too smart was he? Especially going against the ‘Almighty Luke Skywalker’,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh shut up and head back to base, Hobbie. And you’re welcome,” Luke shot back, a brief smile flashing across his face.

Grifter’s voice cut through Steth’s anguish long enough to get his attention. “Steth! Pull yourself together! Get back to the Revenge.”

“I copy, Eight.” Steth looked one last time at where Bri once was before heading back to his home ship.

“And those dead will not have died in vain…” Thrawn continued on through his funeral speech. Steth had heard the same speech a few times before when members of Devil squadron had been shot down.

But while the speech was the same, this was different. This was his squadron. These were his friends. Spinner, Stave, Huller, Flash. He had played sabacc with all of them. He had confided in them and they in him. The only redeeming factor to it all was that they had fought bravely and had died honorably. But then there was Bri.

She was the best, no matter what the records said; records could be altered. No one had her skill, not even in Devil squadron. Why, then, did she make such a fatal mistake? Steth replayed the last battle in his head over and over. He couldn’t understand why she would throw herself into a battle with two x-wings. She may as well have been a sitting nerf. There was something wrong here.

“You ok, man?” Grifter asked as he put a hand on Steth’s shoulder.

“Doing better…” Steth responded. When they got back to their bunker, Steth turned to Grifter and asked, “Why? Why did she do it?”

Grifter looked at Steth and then down at the floor. “I have no idea. It’s like…it’s like she went crazy. It’s like she wasn’t Bri anymore…” He shook his head, trying to physically shake away the pain. “Well Post should be back soon.”

Almost as if that line was a cue, the door whooshed open and Post stumbled through the entryway. He had a bottle of Sullustan whiskey in one hand and was supporting himself with the other.

“Iz a real fraggin’ shame what happened to Bri. I told her not to take too much of that stuff. ‘You can’t fly when you’re high’ I said…fly when you’re high…that rhymes,” Post said and then burst out laughing at his own joke.

When Steth heard Post’s drunken babbling, he ran over to him, knocked the bottle out of his hands and grabbed him by the alcohol-stained shirt.

“What did you say?” Steth demanded, anger washing through him.

“Nuthin, Seph. Calm down. Alls I said was that she shouldn’t have taken so much of that glit. But I guess when you really like something…” But Steth could no longer listen. He threw Post’s limp body into a wall, where he immediately went unconscious, and ran out of the room.

Grifter cried after him, “Where are you going?”

“You know where. The captain,” Steth responded over his shoulder.

Captain Thrawn leaned back in his chair and contemplated the situation. “Well, we do have a situation here, don’t we?” After another moment of thinking, Thrawn reached over to the computer console built into his desk. He pressed a button and a holographic representation of a man’s face formed between Steth and the captain. Steth had never seen the man before (even a relatively small Star Destroyer such as the Revenge was as big as a city) but he could tell from the man’s fanning helmet that he was a part of ship security.

“Commander, arrest Lieutenant Post Kaster and have him thrown in the brig for a week. The charge is possession of illegal narcotics,” Thrawn calmly stated.

“Aye, sir. I’ll send a detachment to get him right away,” the man replied.

“Very well, commander. That is all,” Thrawn concluded as he pressed another button and the man’s head vanished. He then turned to Steth, who was already out of his seat.

“Sir, with all due respect, that is a very lenient punishment. I told you that he also gave it to Bri Jendo, the woman who died yesterday because she had an abnormal reaction to it. That’s murder!” Steth practically yelled.

“Sit down, officer, or I will have you arrested as well. I don’t feel the need to explain myself to you but I will anyway. Ms. Jendo was a consenting adult was she not?” Thrawn asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“W…well yes,” Steth answered, slightly caught off guard.

“And she consented to abusing these spices. So therefor the only crime related to her would be suicide. And I can hardly hold anyone but her responsible for that now, can I?” he asked, once again calming himself.

“I…guess not sir,” Steth said, lowering his head.

Then something unexpected happened. Thrawn’s usually unreadable face softened. “Mr. Norun, I can see why you despise Kaster. I would too. So in addition to his incarceration, I'm demoting him to flight officer and placing Grifter Delphi in command of Dagger squadron. You can tell him and the rest of the squadron yourself. That’s all officer,” Thrawn ended with a wave of the hand.

“Yes, sir,” Steth said rising from his chair and saluting, “he’ll be glad to hear it.” With that, he made his way to the door of Thrawn’s office.

“One more thing, Norun,” Thrawn said, stopping Steth just as he reached the door. Without turning Steth listened to what he said. “Next time, deal with these emotional problems of yours by yourself.”

Steth grinned and continued out the door. Oh I will. The next time I ‘deal’ with Post it will be the last thing he ever remembers.

There were not many things that impressed Darth Vader, but the Emperor’s main throne room did. It was enormous from the kilometer-long red carpet, to the two-kilometer high vaulted ceilings. The room, or amphitheater, was dimly lit. No, Vader thought. He looked around him quickly. It’s not that the room is dim, it’s that the Emperor seems to be absorbing the existing light, like a black hole. He was not at all surprised by this. He knew the depth of the Emperor’s evil. It was natural that where he was present, light was scarce.

As Vader approached, Palpatine brought his focus down onto him and put on a wicked, if not utterly disturbing, smile. When Vader finally reached the foot of the dais that the throne was perched upon, he bent down on one knee.

“You summoned, my master?” Vader spoke, his head still bowed.

“Yes. I have decided that this Rebellion has gone on far too long. They must be wiped out just as swiftly and just as brutally as the Jedi Order was,” the Emperor said with a scratchy Core accent. He thought for a moment before proceeding. Vader lifted his head to study his master. “I want you to form a fleet, as big a fleet as you think you need, to search out and destroy the Rebel base.”

Vader was puzzled for a moment. “My master, there are no indications that the Rebels even have a base. They could be even dispersed throughout the galaxy. That would explain how they are becoming more effective with their guerrilla tactics. They…” Vader was saying as he was interrupted by Palpatine.

“They have built a base and they must be destroyed. But that is not all. He is with them,” the Emperor cryptically remarked.

“He?” Vader asked.

“Come now, Vader. You know who I'm talking about. The Rebel pilot who destroyed the Death Star. The one who has slight control over the force,” Palpatine said with a haunting smile.

Vader was amazed that the Emperor knew about that. Vader had told no one. He had listened to rumors of a rebel carrying a lightsaber. If one of those rumors was true, it was, in fact, Vader’s old lightsaber. Vader had also been to every interrogation of every Rebel the Empire captured, just to see if he or she was the one.

“In any event, you are to form your fleet at once. The Mechis III probe droids should be ready by now, so that should be your first stop. That is all,” the Emperor said with great finality.

That was all Vader needed. He stood and left. Vader wasn’t so much scared by his master, as much as he was disturbed by him. It was obvious that he had let the dark side consume him. That was unfortunate, for he had a great mind. But one day it would be out with the old, in with the new. And on that day, Vader would show his ‘master’ what someone with control over the dark side could do to someone whom the dark side controlled.

Thrawn strode into the medical wing of his Star Destroyer. All around him were signs of pain and suffering. Most of the people there were from the crew stationed in the bow of the Revenge. The hull had buckled slightly at the tip of the dagger-shaped ship. This had caused innumerable small explosions and breeches. The most common injuries were burns. Some personnel were lying in bed with bacta bandages covering them, waiting for their turn in the “tank”. And in every bacta tank, Thrawn saw a gunner, technician, or stormtrooper floating in a bluish-pink haze of liquid.

All of this could be avoided, he thought to himself, But I guess if you are maniacal enough to try to rule the galaxy, you’re going to have to fight for it.

Thrawn was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice that one of his crew was standing next to him at attention.

“Yes?” Thrawn asked.

“Sir, we are receiving a transmission from the Kuat system. It is from Lord Vader himself and he would like to speak to you,” the crewman said in one long breath, as if he had painstakingly memorized those exact words and then recited them.

Thrawn noticed this and had mixed emotions. On the one hand, he liked that his crew respected him. But on the other, he didn’t know if he liked his crew fearing him. The last thing he wanted was to become something like that overly dramatic Dark Lord. “Alright, I’ll take it in my office,” he responded as he started walking for the door.

As he past by a medical bed, he stopped and knelt down to speak to the burn victim occupying it. “Your sacrifice for the Empire will not go unnoticed, private.”

The bandaged stormtrooper looked up and smiled. “Thank you, sir. I’d give my life for the Empire,” the man said through grit teeth, obviously fighting off immense pain.

Thrawn nodded and smiled back slightly. “I know, soldier” he said as he stood and continued out. That, he decided, was what he liked. Not respect out of fear but earned respect. That was how to run a ship.

VII

The Homecoming

“I heard from one of the guys on the bridge crew that we are on our way to the Kuat system,” Grifter said, while chewing on a sandwich.

Steth looked up with sudden interest. He had been idly poking at his pasta-type meal for the past ten minutes not really talking. “Kuat, huh? It’s been, what? A year and a half?” Steth asked casually, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotion he was experiencing.

“Yeah, about that,” Grifter responded. He had known Steth too long to be fooled by that mask. “And you are anxious aren’t you?”

Steth relented, knowing he couldn’t fool his only real friend. “Yeah, a little. I guess I should visit Trent.”

Grifter shrugged. “I don’t even know if I’m going to leave the ship.” When Steth gave him an odd look, he followed up with, “My parents and I parted of somewhat shaky ground.”

Steth nodded his understanding but really wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying. He had many other thought on his mind.

As Steth left the Revenge to visit his adopted father, Vader met with Thrawn to review the search and destroy strategy they were going to implement to exterminate the Rebels.

If one struggled to stay away from the intimidation that fairly radiated from the captain of a Star Destroyer, staying out of the briefing room on board the new Super-class Star Destroyer Executor was a must. Gathered there was some of the most awe-inspiring people the galaxy had to offer. Not the least of which included Captain Thrawn and Lord Vader. While not as intimidating as those two, Admiral Ozzel, Captain Piett, Captain Needa, and various other captains did also wear the aura of silent respect.

“Each Star Destroyer will then deploy their compliment of Probe Droids. Once we have located the base, we will reassemble as quickly as possible and head for the system or systems,” Ozzel spoke very carefully.

Vader, of course, was standing in the corner of the room, seemingly enveloped in a shadow that followed him wherever he went. He watched over the briefing with a quiet disinterest. This was all just a formality. The men gathered here knew what they were doing, else they wouldn’t have achieved the ranks they now held.

Vader’s thoughts were interrupted when Ozzel finished his briefing. “Is there anything you would like to add my Lord?”

“I want these Rebels caught swiftly and timely. It’s been four years since the destruction of the Death Star and since then these outlaws have attacked us with impunity. Their audacity will quickly vanish when our troops burn their sanctuaries to the ground.” Vader gathered himself. If the other officers could see through his mask, they would see a visibly angry man. “I will be in my chambers. I’ll expect regular reports.” With that, he strode out of the room like a strong gust of pitch-black wind.

After he was gone, everyone looked back towards Ozzel. He nodded and muttered, “Dismissed.”

Steth decided that it would be more of a surprise to just show up at Trent’s front door. He had never known his adoptive father to be a big fan of fun or sentiment or even emotion for that matter, but maybe he had changed in the past year and a half.

He walked up to the Moff’s palace and pressed the door buzzer. The door opened and standing there was a green 3-PO droid. “Hello, I am Y3-PO. How may I help you?” it chimed cheerfully.

“Yeah I’m Steth Norun, Moff Trent’s son. Is he in?” Steth asked.

“Oh dear. You are Mr. Norun? Oh dear, oh dear. I’m sorry to inform you sir, but Master Trent is dead. He was assassinated 3 months ago by a group of Rebels.”

Steth just stared in shock. “I…see.” That’s kind of scary, Steth thought to himself. I hope I’m not becoming complacent about people close to me dying. He thought this because when he was told of Trent’s death, he simply didn’t care. In fact, the only thought it produced was, Great now what am I going to do until we ship out of here? As he walked away from the palace, he contemplated the issue. He eventually came to the conclusion that he never really loved, or cared for that matter, about Trent. He was just the man who put a roof over his head and food on the table after his real parents died.

Steth started to feel guilty for not caring, but then something else occurred to him. Trent never really cared either. The more he thought about it, the more Steth realized that all Trent wanted or cared about was getting Steth into the academy on Carida; either as a stormtrooper, naval officer, or pilot. It didn’t matter so long as he was actively aiding the Empire in any way he could.

Eventually Steth concluded that that was the only way Trent could be a father to him. All he wanted was to set Steth on a course that would let him help destroy the Rebels and bring order to the galaxy. It was small consolation but it was all he could come up with.

What began to crawl around in the back of his mind, however, was why the Rebels would assassinate Trent. What did they have to gain from that? As far as he could tell, nothing. It seemed very random for them to attack an official from the Kuat system. He tried to convince himself that the Rebels were that stupid and that random in their destruction, but he couldn’t. Although he hated the Rebels more than he hated (or for that matter loved) anything else in the universe, he knew that for them to last as long as they have, they had to be somewhat cunning and proficient.

The mystery lingered in his head for his entire stay at the Kuat system, which he spent on the Revenge socializing with his squadron-mates. As he laughed at Flight Officer Malien’s joke about a wookie’s, a rodian’s, and a human’s little exploit in a cantina, he realized that this was his only family now. This was all he had left. And the connection he had with them was thin. As thin as the metal skin surrounding a TIE fighter’s ball cockpit.

VIII

The Battle of Hoth

The Revenge, as well as all the other Star Destroyers assigned to Vader’s fleet, spent the next month wandering around in the Outer Rim. Dagger and Devil Squadrons had only the simulators and the occasional recon mission to practice their flying. Steth got to know the new man in their unit better.

Piinter Malien was a consummate showman. He was the squadron clown, never without a clever quip or comeback. His collection of jokes seemed endless. He would always break the monotony of a recon mission by announcing over the squadron frequency just what drink the rodian chose order in that, now, famous cantina.

But while he was fun to have at parties in the Revenge’s mess hall, he was little more than that. When it was inappropriate for a joke and things were serious, he seemed to fade into the background. He was an average pilot but hadn’t really had a taste of what real combat was all about.

Meanwhile, Grifter was showing excellence in being the squadron leader. All of the Daggers respected him immensely. And the role suited him. He had very good situational awareness. He knew, instinctively, where every man in his squadron was and in which direction they were going. Plus he always kept a cool head, even in the most tense of situations.

All of this was made blindingly clear when Dagger squadron stumbled upon a hidden Rebel base. While it wasn’t the hidden Rebel base, it certainly was formidable. It was hidden on the slope of a huge mountain on the non-atmospheric moon of Swentry 9. Swentry 9, itself, used to be haven for smugglers and pirates but was vacated less than an hour after eight Star Destroyers popped out of hyperspace. Not a single life was lost…not a single Imperial life anyway. The Empire had just assumed that after that little debacle no one would come near the entire star system. The Empire assumed wrong.

Dagger squadron was just about to call it quits when Dagger Eleven started screaming for his life. Most of it was unintelligible but the words “X-wing” and “Two squadrons” were painfully clear.

What Grifter did would seem like common sense to a bystander, but for someone with twenty-four X-wings barreling down on him, it was a stroke of genius. He calmly ordered Eleven to juke and weave sporadically until the rest of the squadron got there. He did and by pure luck, he survived the fifteen seconds. When Grifter and the rest got to the battle raging above the Rebel base, he ordered his men to use standoff tactics. Keep the enemy interested in you, but don’t let them score a hit. And the final pre-battle order he gave was, “Don’t fire a single shot, just fly.” And that is exactly what his men did.

But Grifter didn’t stop there. Throughout the entire seven minutes the dogfight lasted, he was constantly telling people to, “Pull up!” or to, “Watch that bogey come in at 2-10.” He had the entire battle mapped out in his head, and he never looked at his HUD once. The X-wing pilots just couldn’t get a lock on a TIE interceptor long enough to make a clean hit. And with no one allowed to fire back, the Daggers kept all of their concentration on evasion.

The Revenge and two Dreadnoughts, the Retribution and the Sudden Death, came over the horizon of Swentry 9’s moon seven minutes after Eleven had made his panicked report. Dagger squadron raced for cover behind the hulking mass of the Revenge as the gunners aboard the huge ship picked off the X-wings like flies. The final total was: 1 Rebel Base, 18 Rebel X-wings, 4 Rebel Transports destroyed; 0 Imperials destroyed.

For that heroic display of military genius and calm-headedness in an extreme situation, Grifter was awarded the Imperial Naval Cross. And if there were some in the squadron that didn’t respect him before that day, they certainly did after.

But another thing happened with Grifter in charge. Everyone seemed to get better. Post had tried to use money and power to motivate the squadron to do its best. That only worked for so long. Grifter had genuine respect from everyone. When he gave an order, no one thought, “Ok, but if I do this right, what do I get out of it?” They just flew and flew well knowing that with Grifter leading them, they were unstoppable.

But then one day Thrawn’s voice came over the ship’s comm. system. “Attention. We will be entering hyperspace in one minute, thirty seconds and will be headed for the Hoth system. All personnel should be at their battle stations in four hours when we reach Hoth. That is all.” A few moments later everything lurched forward slightly as the entire ship rocketed away at faster-than-light speed.

“I never thought they would find the Rebels this quickly,” Thrawn said to Commander Etdan as he walked with him to the bridge.

“Maybe you overestimated the competency of these rogues,” Etdan noted casually.

“Yes, maybe. But we shall see.”

As Thrawn and Etdan walked onto the bridge, the comm. officer called up from the bridge pit. “Sir, Admiral Ozzel requests to speak to you.”

“Very well,” he responded. He walked over to the nearest station and stared at the monitor. Eventually the black screen vanished and Admiral Ozzel appeared.

“Thrawn, we’ve found the Rebels…” Ozzel started.

“I know, Admiral. We are on our way.”

“Very good. We will be exiting hyperspace right on top of them, with the element of surprise as our ally. This will be a glorious victory, indeed,” Ozzel bragged.

“Are you sure it is wise to exit so close to the system?” Thrawn asked casually.

“Don’t question my judgement, Captain,” Ozzel barked. “Get here with all possible haste. And don’t get lost on the way, Captain,” Ozzel sneered. His face blinked out of existence, and Thrawn was left amused at how immature some officers could be.

Grifter, garbed in his black flight gear minus the helmet, stared out onto the flight deck surface from high above. He was leaning against the guardrail surrounding the catwalks above the flight deck that housed all twelve TIE interceptors of Dagger squadron. Steth came up behind him almost silently. “Hello Major,” he said with a smile and a casual salute.

“Lieutenant,” Grifter responded without taking his gaze from actions of the deck officers below.

“We’ve found ‘em haven’t we?” Steth asked anxiously.

“Yes, Lieutenant, we have.”

“What’s with you? This is great! We are going to play a part in the destruction of the Rebellion!” Steth exclaimed.

Grifter turned around. There was no excitement on his face. In fact, it looked as though Grifter was hurt in some way.

“Do you hear what you are saying? You are happy because of someone’s destruction,” Grifter snapped.

Steth had no response to that. Instead he just walked over and joined him in watching the deck crew go about their jobs.

Eventually Grifter spoke up again. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something and you said that one thing that could have made me react like that.”

“What’s wrong? You sound pretty shaken up,” Steth asked concerned.

“I am. Ever since the battle at Swentry 9, I've been thinking a lot about what it is that we do…” Grifter started but Steth cut him off.

“We fight injustice and bring peace to the galaxy,” Steth recited. He had heard it so many times that saying it was like a knee-jerk reaction.

“Do we? Or are we just fighting on one side of a war? A war that can have no happy ending. No justice, no peace. We’re all just pawns in this mindless, pointless war of attrition. There is nothing to gain from this except a quick vape or, worse still, an award for vaping someone else.”

“Whoa. You aren’t going Rebel are you?” Steth asked.

“No. I’m done fighting. After this mission, I’m done. I’m retiring from the Imperial Navy,” Grifter said with finality. But he continued on with a slight gleam in his eye. “I think I’ll find some backwater planet and just…live. No worrying about wars or death or destruction. I just want to live.”

Steth didn’t know what to say. In a lot of ways, Grifter had a valid point. It was actually what Steth wanted to do too, but couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of the anger. But Grifter had no such anger. All he wanted to do was fly.

Steth reached over and patted his friend on the back. “You’re a much wiser man than I,” he said with reassuring smile.

Grifter looked over at him and smiled, then looked back down to the flight deck and focused on nothing in particular. Steth did the same. They stayed like that for the next hour when the alarm claxons started blaring.

“Sir we have just come out of hyperspace,” came a voice behind and below Thrawn. “Our scanners report that the Rebels have an energy shield protecting them. Admiral Ozz…correction Admiral Piett reports that General Veers and his troops are beginning their landing for ground assault.”

“Very well. Let’s help them surround the planet and give them some more fighters to work with. Launch Devil and Dagger squadrons and tell them to form a defense grid. If any ships enter our area, I want all of our fighters to converge on them. Have the interceptors take the fighters and the bombers take the capitol ships, if any,” Thrawn ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the crewmember responded.

Steth was strapped in and ready to fly. He had seen Post walk to his fighter and was concerned. Everything seemed ok, except for when he stumbled and fell. That in itself wasn’t that odd. What was strange was that when he finally lifted himself back up, he was laughing. Hopefully it’s nothing to worry about, Steth consoled himself. But if he was biting glitterstim again, and he did something stupid, he was going to have to deal with Steth.

It was his turn to launch and Steth felt the cold of space creep in as he passed through the magnetic seal of the hangar bay. What he saw after he was clear of the Revenge was somewhat astonishing. From what he could tell, through sensors and his own eyes, Hoth was just a frozen wasteland. How these Rebels managed to form a base here was beyond him. Maybe these traitors were more competent than he had assumed.

A few seconds later, Grifter’s voice filled his helmet. “Ok Daggers, we have to form a defense grid so that no ships can get out of the planet’s gravity well. Form up, people.”

“Luke! See you at the Rendezvous Point!” shouted Wedge. He didn’t know if his friend had heard him but he had other things to worry about. He looked over at his rear gunner of a few minutes ago and now his wingman. “Wes, you think you’re up for this?” he asked with a chiding smile.

“Ready to take on a fleet of Star Destroyers with Wedge Antilles as my wingman?” Wes Janson asked. “Yeah I guess even considering the liability you bring to the situation we are pretty evenly matched with them.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ace. Let’s see if your flying is as grandiose as your bragging,” Wedge retorted back with a smile. “You ready, Arfore?” The little droid perched behind the X-wing’s cockpit responded with a series of hoots and whistles as Wedge climbed the access ladder. Alright, time to get this show on the road, he thought with an anxious sigh.

“We’ve got bogey’s incoming. Four X-wings and 2 Medium Transports,” announced Dagger Three.

“Acknowledged, Three. The bombers will take the transports; we’ll take their escorts. Break and attack.”

Wedge saw the squadron of TIEs barreling down on him and his group. Normally such a sight would fill him with dread. But these guys obviously weren’t aces. They were forming up for an attack run by units. But instead of having all four fighters attack at once, which could be effective, they were attacking with only one fighter and the rest were just hanging back to provide cover. That made no sense in a head to head run since there was no reason to cover their wingmen yet. It was a common error among rookies. They were drilled over and over again in how to protect each other and make sure that everyone lived. So much so that it never occurred to them that there are times when there is no need for cover support.

Wedge throttled up to full thrust and took his opponent head on. Only two quad-linked shots were fired. Wedge’s shot cut right through the interceptor. The interceptor’s shot was absorbed in Wedge’s shields with no significant damage done. Wedge flew through the red and yellow fire cloud that had once been a TIE interceptor and continued on his flight to his hyperspace coordinate. Just about the time he, Wes, and his assigned transport reached the Revenge, a blue ion bolt whizzed by overhead and impacted on the bridge of the Star Destroyer. The huge ship didn’t move at all, but most of the lights along its hull blinked out.

Wedge breathed a sigh of relief as he hit hyperspace with Wes and his transport intact.

The other transport and its escorts weren’t faring quite as well. The bombers had already unloaded most of their proton torpedoes into the hull of the transport and the fighters had already vaped one of the X-wings. The transport, Golden Bantha, was in such sorry shape, that even if the Empire wanted to take prisoners, the Bantha had none left to take. It was in at last six large pieces scattered randomly throughout space.

Post, who had been fairly useless during the fight so far, suddenly jumped. He felt as if he had just awoken from a long nap. Only instead of finding himself in bed, he was in the cockpit of his interceptor. Then he remembered what had happened. He had gotten his hands on a new kind of spice. It was called Fenalin or Fenadine or something like that, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that it was the most amazing feeling to swallow some of it. He must have blacked out. Well since I know that we aren’t supposed to have recon duty for another ten days, I must be in the simulators. I’m just glad no one noticed if I was “out of it”. So Post throttled up and chased after the lone X-wing. He had just gotten the bogey in his sights when Grifter came out of nowhere and sideswiped the X-wing. It exploded in a huge fireball but vanished in less than a second.

Hey! That was my kill! I’ll teach that nerf herder to steal my kill, Post angrily thought to himself as he centered his targeting sight over Grifter’s hull.

“Ok that does it. The sector is clear. Return to the Revenge for debrie…” and then static. Everyone in the squadron piloted his ship around to see what had happened to Grifter. They all watched in horror as a cloud of ionized gas quickly vanished. They all knew that that cloud had once been their leader.

As Steth throttled up to blow Post out of space forever, a red haze blurring his vision, Commander Etdan’s voice came through the squadron frequency. “Enough. Officer Kaster, you are under arrest for the murder of Major Delphi.” That was all he said.

Under arrest? They should fire their turbolasers at him right now! Steth’s mind raced as he fought back hate filled tears and continued on to seek revenge. But before he could even come close to Post, a tractor beam gripped his ship. He looked around and saw that everyone was being pulled into the hangar bay by a tractor beam. You can prolong it but you can’t stop me. Steth thought as he was pulled toward the Revenge.

Under arrest? Post couldn’t believe that they had taken it so seriously. It was just a simulation. Then it occurred to him. They were just giving the response they would give if this had been a real event. That was a relief to him. But the feeling didn’t last long. When he was finally docked in the hangar and opened the entrance hatch to his interceptor, he was horrified to see not the simulator room, but the catwalks above the Revenge’s flight deck. In less than a second, Post’s life had fallen apart.

…The Fire…

After Steth frantically opened the hatch of his fighter, he jumped out and found Post. He was across the hangar from him and had a look of horror on his face. But Steth didn’t notice that. Instead he ran straight at Post. The rage in his heart and the adrenaline filling his body let him race the quarter-klick along the catwalk in less than fifteen seconds. When he had reached Post, he pounced. Post never even knew what hit him. Steth knocked him to the ground, straddled him between his legs and began to fiercely punch Post’s face. Over and over. “For Bri! For Grifter! DIE!” Steth screamed. He had no idea how long he had be punching when something cut through his rage.

It was the group of stormtroopers shouting for him to stop his assault. He also noticed everyone in his squadron standing around and watching in silence. Steth looked back down and saw that Post was still moving…but just barely. Barely, however, was too much in Steth’s opinion. He lifted Post up over his head and threw him over the edge of the catwalk and watched as his limp body shattered when it came in contact with the deck.

By this time the stormtroopers were almost upon him. Steth’s life had ended almost as quickly as Post’s. But then something unexpected happened. The normally cowardly Flight Officer Malien led the rest of the squadron in blocking the stormtroopers’ way. “Now, now, fellas. We don’t want to act to hastily,” Malien said with a wide grin. Then, almost as if it had been pre-planned, all of the Daggers jumped on the stormtroopers and wrestled them to the ground. Malien looked back and yelled, “Steth, run!”

That was all Steth needed to hear. He ran to the edge of the catwalk and stopped. Dead-end. He looked down. I’m sure Post didn’t survive that fall and something tells me I won’t fare any better. He looked around, panic gripping at him, and spotted his salvation. A long, thin, metal pipe. Without a second thought he leaped off the catwalk and grabbed onto the pipe. He slid down about half way when the pipe started to rattle and shake. Above him, where the pipe began, it broke off from where it had been welded into the ceiling. The pipe and Steth came crashing down to the flight deck. Steth heard an audible crack and felt his leg give way. Before there was any hint of pain, Steth knew it was broken. Steth pulled himself up and supported himself on one leg. And for a second time in the last three minutes, Steth considered himself the luckiest man in the galaxy. There, sitting right beneath the TIE interceptor racks and catwalks, was Captain Thrawn’s personal Lambda-class shuttle.

Steth hopped his way over to the shuttle and passed Post’s dead body on the way. His face was a horrible mess of blood, flesh and bone and his body was mangled beyond repair. Many of his limbs were bending in the opposite direction that they were intended to bend.

Even if I get caught, or get killed, because of this, it will have been worth it, Steth vowed as he limped past what was left of Post. He finally made it to the boarding ramp of the shuttle. He crawled up the gangway and pulled himself into the pilot’s seat. He keyed everything up for launch and watched as he slowly drifted towards the hangar bay exit. The pain is his leg, now, was excruciating, but he reminded himself that it was worth it. An entire squad of stormtroopers had just rushed onto the flight deck and started shooting after Steth, but they were too late. He was gone.

Malien looked up briefly as he was restraining a stormtrooper and saw Steth zoom away. He, and half of the rest of the squadron, let out a huge cheer. But then Malien slipped into unconsciousness as another stormtrooper hit him in the back of the head with the butt of a blaster rifle.

Thrawn was busy looking at the damage indicator. Apparently, that ion bolt had left them dead in space. Only the tractor beams, life support, and core computer were still functional but those three systems were consuming what little auxiliary power they had left. Thrawn sighed. Not as pathetic as we thought, he thought to himself. This damage would take almost a week to fix completely.

“Sir,” a bridge crewmember yelled over all the confusion, “Lieutenant Norun of Dagger squadron has just fled the ship using your shuttle!”

Thrawn turned to face him. “I thought there was a squad of stormtroopers on their way to arrest Officer Kaster,” Thrawn said calmly, with just the slightest hint of anger creeping into his expression.

The bridge officer turned back to his station, spoke a few words to whoever was on the other side of the comm. transmission, and then turned back to Thrawn. “It appears that Lieutenant Norun assaulted Officer Kaster and then threw him off of the TIE racks. When our stormtroopers got there, the rest of the pilots jumped them,” the officer reported with more than a little hesitation.

“I see,” was all the Captain said. He calmly walked over to the front view port and watched as his personal shuttle flew out from under the Revenge’s hull and rocketed away into hyperspace.

“Should we try to pursue, sir?” the officer asked.

“With what power, Officer?” asked Thrawn without turning his head

“We could launch a few assault shuttles and…” he started to suggest when Thrawn interrupted him.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Officer Kaster was already as good as dead anyway. He committed treason. And Lieutenant Norun was getting out of hand anyway. If he makes to where ever he is going alive, then he earned it.” Thrawn turned to find all of his bridge crew standing still, listening to what he was saying. “Get back to work people. I want those engines back online in ten hours.”

And with that, they all continued what they were doing.

…The Smoke

Steth’s shuttle exited hyperspace less than a light-year away from Hoth and the Revenge. The Hoth system was just another star in the sea of lights. And now Steth had to do some thinking.

He knew that there was no going back. The Empire would never accept him back without first trying him, and then sentencing him to death. And that idea wasn’t so bad. He had never felt the desire for death so strongly. Well, yes he had. When his parents had been killed. He remembered placing that blaster rifle to his chin. He remembered feeling intense horror and frustration when no laser bolt had emanated from the muzzle of the gun. The only thing worse than accepting your death, is to not die once you’ve accepted your fate. I’ll never make that mistake again, he vowed.

But he had heard about what happened to people found guilty of treason. They weren’t just killed. They were tortured to the point were they begged for death, and then tortured more. By the time death finally came, they were too incoherent to enjoy it. While Steth didn’t really care at that point whether he died or not, torture was something he wanted to avoid. Funny, he had always assumed that anyone who had committed treason had every reason to be tortured. Being one of those people, he now saw that maybe not all of those people were as animalistic as he had thought.

That made him briefly consider if maybe other things changed depending on your point of view. Maybe everything isn’t as cut and dry as I thought. Maybe the Rebels…NO! He couldn’t let himself think that. What would his parents say if they knew he had almost finished that thought? They would never forgive him. And he could never forgive himself.

His mind eventually wandered back to Grifter. And then, of course, Bri. How could if of happened? He had finally learned to accept Bri’s loss, and then Grifter was gone. All because of one man, if “man” was even the correct word to use. Even though dead, Steth still hated Post more than words could say. He had single-handedly robbed him of the people he needed to stay sane.

To stay sane. How sad, Steth thought with tears in his eyes. I can’t even survive without someone to lean on. What a fearless soldier I am. Why? That’s all he could think of. Why did his life have to be this way? Was there some spiteful god out there? Was it just that chance or luck had chosen to destroy him? Why?

Grifter. Poor, sweet Grifter. All he wanted was peace. All he wanted was to be something. But he had realized that the people he wanted to be something for were not worth it. He knew that the Empire had no more of a claim to the galaxy than the Rebels did. It was an idea that was beginning to sneak into Steth’s own beliefs. Who was to say who should govern others? What made the Emperor think that he was the one to decide those things?

Without Steth even noticing, Grifter had given him one final gift before he died. It was freedom of thought. And without Steth even realizing it, he would thank Grifter for that gift in his own way.

But Steth wasn’t thinking about that now. He was crying uncontrollably. When he finally calmed down, he looked out at the stars and felt an odd feeling. He felt tired, literally and figuratively. He knew he felt tired physically because of his injuries. But he realized that he also felt tired emotionally. He was drained, exhausted. He had suffered and ached and mourned more than he thought was capable in only 17 years of life. He had lost all energy. When he thought about Grifter, he wanted to cry again, but nothing happened. He thought about Bri, his parents, himself. Still nothing. A realization dawned on him. He no longer cared. It was as if his emotions had suffered a power-surge and were now burned out, useless. Steth instinctively knew what the next step was.

He turned to his nav-computer. He looked at the star-chart and determined that the closest star was in the Anoat system. He bypassed all of the safeguards and set himself on a course straight through the star. Of course the gravity of the star would pull him out of hyperspace before he actually flew through it. But he would exit close enough to it that he wouldn’t have more than a nanosecond to think about it before he was vaporized.

Without hesitation, he pulled back on the hyperspace lever and watched as the stars blurred and were replaced by a bluish-purple tunnel. He breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t remember when he had felt this content.

The Truth

A few seconds later, Steth was catapulted forward in his seat. If it had not been for his restraining belt, he might have flown through the front viewport. He hadn’t expected to be alive much more than a few seconds, at most, after he exited hyperspace. He closed his eyes and smiled.

When nothing happened, Steth opened his eyes to see why the sun hadn’t disintegrated him yet. What Steth saw made his heart go from low to bottom-of-the-barrel.

He had exited hyperspace about ten thousand klicks from the Anoat system star. From where Steth was, it looked to be just a very large star off in the distance. The second thing Steth looked for was a planet. Maybe he had calculated the course wrong. There were no planets. He was in empty space. Well, almost empty. One glance at his HUD told him what was happening even before he turned his shuttle around to see for himself.

There, about 3 klicks away, raged an intense battle. Or at least the last few seconds of a battle. A Calamari cruiser and numerous Corellian gunships and corvettes seemed to be monitoring the last ditch effort of an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer to defend itself. Steth scanned the area quickly and found that there was scattered debris from TIE fighters, X-wings, and even a Star Destroyer. Steth assumed that the Rebels had this fleet stationed near (but not at) Hoth. An Imperial search team must have found them but was too small to overpower them. The Interdictor had its gravity well projectors up to keep the Rebels from escaping to hyperspace, but they didn’t need to. The only thing the Interdictor had done was to bring Steth out of his suicide hyperspace jump too early.

As he surveyed what was going on, a squadron of B-wings blasted through the Interdictors last bit of shields and proceeded to drill massive holes in hull. When the capitol ship was dead in space, the Rebel fighters retreated to where their fleet was holding steady.

Steth decided that it was time to go. He reached for the hyperspace ignition lever but was thrown back in his seat as his ship was violently rocked. He looked out into space and watched in horror as the Mon Cal cruiser dragged his shuttle in to its docking bay with a tractor beam.

“NO!” he screamed as he threw his fists onto cockpit displays. Now he was finished. Caught by these Rebels in an Imperial shuttle, he would certainly face a fate worse than death. But he wasn’t going to go down that easily.

He lifted himself out of the pilot’s seat with his arms and hopped his way over to the weapons locker. He opened it and grabbed a blaster rifle, a small holdout blaster, and a few proton grenades. He couldn’t walk, much less run, so he would shoot anyone that came up the access ramp and then set off the grenades, doing as much damage possible to the inside of the cruiser as he could. Finally he would get what he wanted: a quick and painless death. No more Rebels, no more Empire, no more anything.

He vaulted himself back into the pilot’s seat and waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, within a minute, the gangway was pried open and three Rebel soldiers strode in, blaster at the ready. One of them eventually made his way to the cockpit and before he could react, Steth already had him targeted. “Hi,” was all Steth said as he put a laser bolt directly into the Rebel’s chest. The Rebel made no sound; he just crumpled to the deck.

But while there was no scream, the other two soldiers were alerted when they heard the blaster fire. They made their way up to the cockpit and flanked either side of the door. They made a few hand gestures, nodded, and then prepared themselves. One removed a smoke bomb from the inside of his jacket and pressed a button on the side. Steth was waiting for an assault, when this small device was thrown into the room.

He had no time to think before the bomb went off and the cockpit was filled with smoke. Steth panicked. As he was coughing and choking he started spraying round after round of blaster fire in all directions. The Rebels calmly stood in the doorway and one of them shot Steth directly in the torso.

The only saving grace to that situation was that the blaster bolt was blue, not red, and it was circular, not straight. Steth slid out of the chair into a crumpled mass on the floor.

One of the Rebels stood up after checking the pulse of his fallen comrade, only to find that there was no pulse. He pulled his comlink off the front of his jacket and spoke into it. “Sir, we’ve got one man down and one prisoner.”

Steth awoke in some sort of infirmary. He would have bolted up and reached for the nearest weapon, be it a blaster or a fork. But he found that while he could blink his eyes and think, he could do little else. He was surprised when he found that he could also talk, if somewhat crudely. “Where am I?” he asked.

The Too-onebee medical droid standing next to him startled him with its response. “You are on the Calamari cruiser Defiance. And you are in a little better shape now than when we found you.”

“You mean when you captured me,” Steth said with a sneer. “Well, look. I’m sure you Rebels have done all your background checks and such. When is my execution?” Steth asked trying to get straight to the point.

“Execution, sir? I was not made aware that you were to be executed. But then again I'm just a droid,” Too-onebee responded.

“Maybe I can clear things up for you,” a voice said as the medical bay door opened.

Steth barely managed to prop himself up on his elbows. Standing before him was a short man in about his fifties. He had black hair peppered with streaks of gray. He wore, what Steth assumed, was a Rebel officer’s uniform. Only it looked as though it was cold weather uniform. It was also torn, scuffed, and scorched in many places, as if it had been through hell and back. On that uniform were five red pips. Steth knew that this guy was pretty high up and that he had been through a battle recently, probably on Hoth.

“General Carlist Rieekan,” he announced. He looked over at a display. “And you are Steth Norun, TIE pilot and, oh this is interesting, adopted son of the late Moff Trent.”

“That’s former TIE pilot and please don’t pretend to show any respect for Trent’s name. You murdered him just like you murder everyone else who stands in your way,” Steth spit out at the General.

“We didn’t hit Trent. In fact we were quite surprised when he was killed by his own stormtrooper. Something about Trent and the trooper’s wife if I remember correctly,” Rieekan said with an amused look on his face.

“Killed by his…no. These are just lies. I’m not going to believe people that lie for a living,” Steth reaffirmed, “When is my execution?”

“You are hell-bent on being executed aren’t you? Well then I'm sorry to break your heart by telling you that you won’t be executed. We don’t execute people. If someone has committed a serious crime, we just refuse his or her request to join this rebellion. We let the local authorities deal with them. And according to our records, the only wrongdoing you’re guilty of is murdering your fellow wing-mate. To me, that just means that there is one less TIE fighter pilot out there that can kill one of our boys,” Rieekan said and then paused. He looked at his data-pad for a few moments and then turned to Steth once again. “We are going to have to stay out of sight of any planetary systems for about a week. You saw what happened yesterday. But once we come out of hiding, we would be more than welcome to ferry you down to…” he looked at his pad again quickly, “…Klatooine and you can be on your way. But I may have a more interesting alternative for you.” He turned to the medical droid at his side. “Is he ok to leave to medical bay?”

The droid turned to a computer display off to his right and then turned back to face the General. “All clear, sir. His leg has healed and everything else checks out.”

“Very well. I suggest you get some rest Mr. Norun. There will be someone by your quarters later today,” Rieekan said as he handed Steth a data-pad filled with all the information he needed. Steth got up unceremoniously and strode out of the room on very unsteady legs.

Steth couldn’t sleep. So much had happened in the past few days that his mind raced, as if trying to catch up with weeks of thought in a matter of hours. But as awake as he was, Steth couldn’t leave his room.

It was hard for him to admit to himself, but its not that he was angry or hateful of the people walking past his door. He was simply scared of them. Here he was, a prisoner in the hands of the Rebels, and he was too weak and too scared to do anything besides cower in his quarters. He scolded himself over and over. He should have been running into the mess deck of the ship and picking the nearest Rebel and tearing him or her limb from limb. He should be charging onto the bridge and slitting the throat of the captain. He should be planting explosives on the internal fuel tanks.

That was what he was thinking when the door chime sounded. Even though he was scared to the point of shaking, he tried to sound confident. “Yeah, come in,” he snapped at the door.

In walked a tall blond-haired man. He had a very strong but very peaceful way about him. He also seemed to be only in his mid-twenties. He pointed to a chair and Steth replied with “Go ahead.” He sat down and smiled.

“You know, I've been waiting to meet you for a long time now. I’m Tycho Celchu.”

Steth shrugged and responded with, “What do I care?”

Tycho smiled and continued. “I think you will care an awful lot. I know you hate me and the people I work with. And I don’t blame you at all. I've seen how badly the Empire can spin things so that we look like evil incarnate…” Steth lied back and tried not to listen. Tycho continued, “…but we aren’t. It will take some time, but you will understand that eventually. And I may have some information that will convince you of that.”

Steth still said nothing. Tycho reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, portable holo-proj. He pressed a button and an image blinked into existence between the two men. It was a three-dimensional rendering of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer with the name spelled out above it. “Meet the Moderator.” He pressed the button a few more times. “And the Judicator and the Master and the Darkness.” Each time he pressed the button a new Star Destroyer would appear. “These four monsters cost your parents their lives,” Tycho finished just as Steth bolted out of his bed.

“Get out of here. You can lie all you want about anything. But I am not going to listen to you lie about my parents,” Steth yelled as he tried to fight back tears. “They were the one of few good things about my life. And I’m not going to…”

Tycho interrupted him by getting up and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. I know what you are feeling. But hear me out. Your father gave us these blueprints the day Alderaan was destroyed. There was a message attached to them. It said that he couldn’t stand for the Empire’s heavy-handed ways anymore. He felt that if he wasn’t doing anything to stop the Empire, then he was indirectly aiding them,” Tycho spoke softly.

Steth crumbled into a nearby chair. He tried as hard as he could to ignore what the Rebel was saying. But in some odd way, he could almost hear his father’s voice as Tycho spoke. It sounded so much like something he would say or think.

Tycho’s mood darkened slightly. “Our best guess is that the transmission was detected and your parents were killed by stormtroopers...”

Tycho continued to speak but Steth didn’t hear them anymore. Sudden it came to him. The stormtrooper blaster rifle. That’s why it was there. And Trent. It was him. He was responsible for it all. Steth didn’t have to be told that, he knew already.

“…sort of connected to you since I heard about your story. Your parents were killed because they felt that the Empire had gone too far and my family died because the Empire did go too far,” Tycho admitted, not realizing Steth hadn’t heard half of what he said.

“You were from Alderaan?” Tycho nodded. “I remember when that happened,” Steth said as if he were in a daze. “I remember our teacher telling us why it was right to destroy Alderaan. Telling us why billions of people had to die. Telling us why…billions of…innocent people had to die,” Steth said as his anger quickly rose. No! This is too much. Everything I believe in is propaganda? Steth asked himself. But he already knew the answer.

Almost as if Tycho had been reading his thoughts, he said, “I’m sorry, Steth. But I have one more thing to say. You are welcome to join the Rebellion. We could really use you. I bet you could handle an A-wing better than I can. So please consider it.” With that, Tycho stood and left the room. Steth turned toward the window looking out into space and thought. Just thought.

XII

The Second Chance

Steth eventually got used to being aboard the Mon Cal cruiser. The pilots often invited him to talk or to join them for a meal. He almost felt like he was back with Grifter and Bri and Malien. He almost felt like he was home.

But while he had good company for that week that the Rebels remained incognito, he was in a state of emotional turmoil. It had taken him a few days to get over the shock of it all. And now he was finally coming to terms with the truth. He would never forgive the Empire for what they had done. But he was tired of fighting. Grifter had been right. There was no point to a war like this. All it did was kill people that might otherwise have had a happy life. He didn’t want to be a part of that anymore.

A few days later he found himself in a Lambda-class shuttle being ferried down to Klatooine. He thought about how happy he was going to be now that he was away from the war. I would never wish my life onto anyone else; that’s for sure, Steth with a small smile. But that smile disappeared in a flash. He had inadvertently stumbled upon something very important. His mind quickly raced back to what Tycho had said about his father. “…if he wasn’t doing anything to stop the Empire, then he was indirectly aiding them.” And that’s exactly what Steth was doing. He was running away. He ran away from the Empire and now he was running away from the Rebellion. If he didn’t do anything to end this war, then he was wishing his life onto other people. Billions and billions of other people. Who was going to stop the Empire from ruining more lives if the Rebels failed? No. Grifter was wrong. If nobody fought injustice, then it would never end. People may not die in a war, but they die in more discrete, and often more horrible, ways. By running, Steth was condoning what the Empire did. He was condoning Alderaan. And that was something he could not do.

He walked up behind the pilot, tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Turn the shuttle around.”

Epilogue

Six Months Later…

Steth checked his instruments one more time. It was short hyperspace trip and he wanted to make sure everything was in order before he flew into battle. He had trained endlessly with the Rebels for the past few months and while he wasn’t one of their best, he could certainly hold his own.

Everything checked out. Shields were at maximum, as were his lasers. Thirty seconds left until reversion into real space. He allowed himself to relax a bit. He knew that he had made the right decision. He had overcome his hate. He had conquered his anger. And now he was off to make sure that no one had to live his life ever again.

There would be no more injustice. There would be no more hate. There would be no more Alderaans. There would be no more Steth Noruns. He and his new friends would make sure of that. This time he was on the right side. And this time, instead of hate buoying his spirit, he had hope.

The blue tunnel of hyperspace collapsed and the star lines blurred back into pinpricks. Straight ahead lay a beautiful blue and green planet. The only thing marring the image was a large blackish-gray structure hovering in front of it. The Death Star.

“Never again,” Steth whispered to himself. His A-wing followed the Millennium Falcon and the rest of the star fighters as they rocketed toward the spherical symbol of hatred and injustice. Nothing was going to stop them.

|-o-| Ours is Not to Reason Why |-o-|

I

The Spark…

II

The Arrival

Three Years Later…

III