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RS XW Op10 – Escort New B-Wings

‘What a wreck,’ I thought, picking up the hydro spanner. Peering in through a large tear in the fighter’s hull, I wondered how the ships pilot had made it out of the sector, let alone back to the Windstorm.

The shield generator, life support, targeting and weapons systems were all shot to hell and an astromech droid, still jammed in its housing, resembled the handiwork of a first year welding student with a skin full of Twi’lek liquor. She’d been a great little fighter at one point, but time had been no friend to her and now I stood, finger hovering above data-pad, ready to sign her decommissioning order.

I had seen many ships in this condition recently. After we’d set up base in New Trask the Imps’ had responded by stepping up through the gears, attacking at every opportunity and trying to strangle all alliance activity in the Greeop Sector. Thankfully, the onslaught had ceased nearly two months ago, giving us time to take stock of our situation. The reports from a high command analysis didn’t make good reading.

Our pilot rosters had taken a battering. The fleet was thinning rapidly and only a handful of new cadets appeared to fill the steadily growing holes in our squadrons.

“Hey Hotshot..”

The voice made me shudder. Its feminine tone and sarcastic, yet somehow flirtatious manner, gave the owner away immediately.

‘Looks like you’ve earned a stay of execution,’ I thought, glancing up at the battered fighter one last time before shoving the data-pad into my pocket and turning to face my tormentor.

“Colonel?” I asked. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Red Squadrons Commanding Officer Tá'Ré Djo smiled the kind of smile that told me she was clearly relishing the opportunity to impart some news upon me that she knew I would not enjoy hearing.

“Not me personally,” she replied “but there’s something you can do for all of us.”

My stomach churned. I swallowed hard before replying “Go on?”

“The Constellation has lost a lot of Y wings lately. The ones they have left are ready for the scrapheap. They’re about to take delivery of some new B wings and we need someone to fly cover for them during the transfer.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, command doesn’t think the new cadets are ready for something like this yet and I want to let my pilots get as much R&R as possible before the Imps decide to come knocking again.”

“But I’m an engineer not a fighter pilot, dammit.”

“You were trained in the Imperial Navy as a pilot.” Djo stared at me impassively. “We need pilots,” she continued. “YOU are a pilot. With things the way they are at the moment people are going to have to multi-task. Besides, I don’t know what you’re worried about. This is just a routine transfer. We haven’t seen any imperial offensives in the sector for months and frankly we’re not expecting that to change anytime soon. Now get your butt over to hangar three. There’s a ship being prepared for you. You leave immediately.”

“But…”

“NOW First Lieutenant Farlance!”

“YES SIR!” I barked sarcastically before turning sharply and heading for the door.

“Oh and Jaran?” called Djo, her voice softening slightly, “Welcome to Red Squadron.”

On reaching hanger three I was handed a standard issue flight suit and directed to the ship I would be flying for the mission, a small A-Wing fighter equipped with concussion missiles and standard lasers. I asked if I could fly my personal ship, an X-Wing, won in a sabbac game a few years earlier and which I had nicknamed ‘Chaz’, but permission was denied. Apparently sending two X-Wings to accompany me on the mission was already thought of as overkill for a mere babysitting exercise in a sector of space which hadn’t seen Imperial activity in months.

After changing into the flight suit i boarded my ship, made my preliminary checks and followed the two X-wings out of the hangar. As we headed for the nav bouy, I punched in the co-ordinates for the Constellations position and checked in with my wingmen.

“OK. Call it in guys”

“Yellow 1 here.”

“Yellow two standing by.”

“OK. Good to go. See you at the cruiser guys,” I replied, before punching the hyperdrive.

Moments later the familiar electric blue swirl of hyperspace enveloped my cockpit. Within two minutes I dropped to sub light speed and checked the surrounding area.

The Mon Calamari MC80A Cruiser ‘Constellation’ lay about 3 km to my rear. Spinning my ship around I cycled my scanner through all detected vessels. Other than the Constellation only my two wingmen were registering. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. We’d been told not expect any excitement but all the same my clear scanner helped to settle the nerves I had felt on leaving the Windstorm. All the same I diverted power from my engines to charge my shields fully, just in case.

A few minutes later the scanners detected three incoming B-wing’s designated Gold one through three. They were about 7 km out but wouldn’t take long to arrive.

“Form it up guys,” I called, prompting the two X-wings to join me, one flying either side of my craft.

The B-wings made their way to the hanger and were just starting to dock when my scanner beeped unexpectedly. The image on my screen made my blood run cold, an Imperial Frigate dropping out of hyperspace no more than 7 km from our position.

“Holy sh…”

“Cut the chatter Yellow one,” I barked. “Close on the B-wings and keep your eyes open for enemy fighters.”

“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir.” The pilot replied, banking and starting an approach vector leading to the desperately needed bombers.

More beeps from the targeting scanners alerted me to what I had feared most. Three Tie Fighters on an intercept course. I quickly targeted the lead ship and ordered my wingmen to attack. Switching to the second Tie I held my course and headed directly at him. From two clicks I let loose a barrage of lasers, quickly sending the pilot inside to oblivion before setting my sights on the third of the group. One of the X-wings almost collided with me in an attempt to reach him first.

“Watch where you’re flying Yellow Two. You almost cracked my cockpit.” I yelled as my targeting sensors started singing again.

A panicked voice rang through my headset as Yellow One called through.

“More fighters?”

Glancing down at the screen image my stomach turned again as a large Corellion ship emerged from hyperspace, flanking the Constellation.

“Negative it’s a damned Corvette.” I replied. “Stay with your targets. We have a job to do. Let’s take care of those fighters before we start thinking of taking that thing on.”

Imperial pilots come in many different shapes and sizes, but these were no top aces. No more than a minute had passed before they had been dispatched prompting the Frigate to send reinforcements. Three Tie Bombers and another compliment of Fighters streaked towards the B-wings.

Again I set my wingmen on the fighters and turned my attention to the slower but more heavily armed bombers. I flew straight at them jinking as green flecks of heat filled my viewport, occasionally glancing off my shields.

‘Good job I gave them a full charge,’ I thought. The shields held as I returned fire quickly cutting down those of the lead bomber. I pulled up just metres from a head on collision and quickly dropped the throttle while pulling around and settling in directly behind the group. Centring my shields, I squeezed the firing trigger of my joystick, inflicting red death upon the enemy, as two of the bombers were quickly turned into expanding plumes of fiery debris. The third quickly broke formation and went fully defensive, but again the pilot’s skill level was simply not enough to save him from my guns.

Returning my attention to the Constellation, I noticed the last of the B-wings enter the hangar. ‘Well at least that’s three safe,’ I thought as I checked my scanners for the next deployment. Sure enough another three of the bombers had just arrived and were starting their approach manoeuvres.

“I’ve got one on my tail,” Screeched through my head set as I looked up and saw a Tie Fighter closing in for the kill on one of my wingmen. Throwing open my throttle I raced to intercept but watched helplessly as Yellow One was torn apart.

‘Heads are gonna roll for this,” I thought, wondering how anyone could have thought sending two engineers and the ships cook out on a mission like this could be a good idea.

“Just a routine mission, she says,” I grumbled to myself. “Don’t know what your worrying about, she says.”

After taking revenge for Yellow One’s demise on the last of the fighters, my remaining wingman and I set our targeting systems on the corvette, flying close enough to identify her as the Cleponji. A few concussion missiles and a barrage of lasers however, quickly saw her tumbling through space in a brightly coloured death throes.

The Frigate was now within firing range of the ‘Constellation’ and commenced an all-out attack by focusing its turbo lasers on her.

‘She won’t be able to repel that kind of firepower for too long,’ I thought, watching the laser impacts flare on her shields.

“Let’s see if we can’t draw some of that things fire away from the cruiser,” I called out over my headset, before adjusting my shields and heading directly towards the Frigate. Sensors indicated her designation as the ‘Faithless’.

My targeting scanner suddenly burst into a fit of squawks and we quickly found ourselves facing what seemed like an endless supply of Tie’s.

Fighters, Interceptors, Bombers and Assault Gun boats littered the heavens with hot streaks of green laser fire spitting in all directions.

I ordered the remaining X-wing to attack the fighters before turning my attention on first the interceptors and then the Assault Gunboats. I took them out quite quickly, but not quick enough to prevent the loss of two B-wings.
Moments later I lost my remaining wingman and found myself knee deep in trouble.
The Constellation was taking a pounding as the last of the bombers entered her hangar.

‘OK. Now get the hell out of here,’ I thought, jinking and swerving through another set of evasive manoeuvres. The enemy looked as though it was beginning to thin in numbers when my scanners alerted me to another incoming ship. My heart sank as an Imperial Star Destroyer loomed overhead.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groaned as my headset buzzed. Switching channels, the voice of the Constellation’s Captain burst through the background static.

“Red One. Please respond.”

“Red One here. Go ahead.”

“We’re taking a pounding over here. That Frigates lasers have damaged our hyperdrive engines. You have to buy us more time to make repairs.”

“There’s nothing I can do about the Faithless,” I replied “but that Star Destroyer is certain to send more ships. I’ll try to keep them off your back.”

“Thank you Red One and good luck my friend.”

“Roger that,” I replied, finishing off the last of the closest ships. My suspicions were confirmed as sensors picked up enemy ships coming from the direction of the Star Destroyer. I throttled up adjusted my laser and shield configuration and headed straight at them. I’m not sure how many craft I took out before my scanners revealed the capitol ship as being designated ‘Illustrious’.

Suddenly a burst of static almost shattered my eardrums and a bright fireball lit the dark void of space. I watched helplessly as the Constellation burst from within creating a rapidly expanding fireball. My stomach turned over as I thought of the hundreds of lives I’d just watched being extinguished and for a second I thought I would puke right there in the cockpit. I heard myself screaming as I ploughed shards of laser fire through the hull of the last enemy fighter.

The Imp’s weren’t stupid. They knew I was alone now and although they would not risk losing any more fighters they would also not let me escape without a fight. The Illustrious turned its batteries on me, pounding my shields.

“If it’s a fight you want, then that’s what you’ll get,” I screamed, recharging my systems and heading for its shield generators. Above its bridge the two spheres loomed as I let fly with the last of my missiles. They survived the impact so I opened up with my guns peppering them, pass after pass. Finally they burst and my sensors displayed ‘shields down’. I jinked back and fore across the bow of the ship avoiding her turbo laser while strafing her with my own. A few passes later saw the sensors displaying ‘Hull damage’ and the end was in sight. I couldn’t help but punch the air as the Capitol ship erupted and turned my A-wing for the Faithless.

I’d never seen so much laser fire. The destruction of the Illustrious must have struck fear into the Imperials as every weapon the Faithless had was trained on me. At that moment my life didn’t matter to me anymore. The mission was lost, hundreds had been killed and the Alliance had lost more valuable resources.
It was a suicide mission I knew, but I didn’t care. I targeted the frigate and flew headlong into its maw, spitting lasers as I went. My shields reduced rapidly and an impact sent my ship spinning, glancing off the frigates superstructure. As alarms wailed around me my head smacked against the cockpit window, cracking it and sending a red cloud through my mind. The last thing I was aware of was an automated voice repeating the word ‘Eject’.

I awoke to the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey Hotshot. Glad you’re still with us.”

Djo smiled at me through the glass of the bacta tank. I felt as though I’d been ten rounds in the ring with a wookie and had a headache resembling the worst of hangovers. Still, the fluid in which I was submerged was slowly bringing me back to the land of the living. An hour later saw me sitting on my bunk as Djo filled me in on how I had been found floating in space, still strapped into my ejected cockpit seat.

“I’m so sorry Jaran. None of us had any idea that this would happen.”

I said nothing, just stared blankly at the wall.

“I won’t ask you to fly again,” she continued, sympathetically. “You’ve been through a lot and need time to recover. Take a leave of absence and when you’re ready the engineers job will be there waiting for you.”

“Screw that,” I replied. “We lost a lot of good people today. I tried but I couldn’t save them. I want to make the Empire pay for what they’ve done.” I looked at the tattered flight suit sitting folded at the foot of my bed. Its scorch marks gave off an aroma of Ozone as I picked it up.

“Smells of Gunsmoke,” said Djo, solemnly as I held it up to the light, inspecting the damage before turning to her with a glowering look.

“I’d like to apply for squadron placement.”

Djo laughed quietly. “I was hoping you’d say that Jaran.”

“Huh?”

“The mission may have been lost but you proved yourself today. I’ve already cleared you,” she replied with a smile. “You are now officially Red Three.”

She headed for the door talking over her shoulder…

“Oh and once again... Welcome to Red Squadron, 'Gunsmoke'.”


1LT Jaran “Gunsmoke” Farlance