Prologue

[Cabin Seven, Regis, Sonoma System, Day Thirteen – 0426 Hours]

It had been easy dozing off for Flight Officer Kyle “Gnoizic” Mandal. After putting in a hard day’s work vaping the Frigate Regis’ cadets in the sims and grabbing a bite to eat, Kyle had retired to his room and was soon fast asleep. His dreams were filled with space combat, sitting behind the stick of an X-Wing Starfighter, vaping TIE Fighters galore. One fighter, however, continued to dance away, eluding Kyle’s shots with seeming ease. Eventually the TIE turned on Kyle and started pounding his shields and was headed on a collision course for Kyle’s X-Wing. This isn’t good, Kyle told himself in mid-dream, and began to brace for the impact he knew was going to come.

Fortunately, the dream was interrupted before Kyle had to relive watching the TIE Fighter crash into his cockpit, as he had seen just the other day. In the real fight, Kyle made it out alive with his X-Wing mostly intact, but dreams had a way of skewing memories. His light sleeping could be attributed to his dangerous life style he led as a trader and former political prisoner before joining Red Squadron. He knew full well to sleep lightly or risk never waking up again, and the slightly raised voices in the halls triggered his early wake up call. He rolled over in his bunk and looked at his chronometer on the nearby nightstand. As he saw the time, he groaned. “It’s almost 0430,” he muttered to himself, a tad ticked off. “This is hardly time for a heart-to-heart between pilots; I need sleep!” He looked over to the other bunk in the room, only to recall that his roommate, David “Wild Cat” Fate, was on patrol. He swung his legs off his bunk and attempted to wake himself up a little, but as the raised voices got a little louder, he decided to follow the voices to his door, where he could figure out what was going on.

Kyle hit the switch for the door and it slid open. He stepped outside and yawned, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to identify the two figures a few meters down the hall. “Care to keep it down?” he asked into the dim light. “Some of us are on patrol in four hours.” As he finished his complaint, sleep rubbed from his eyes, he was quick to realize two things: the two men out in the hallway were Captain Dann “Hobbes” Barelli and Second Lieutenant John “Dune” Kimberly, the new squad members. And Hobbes had his blaster pointed at the base of Dune’s skull. This is no mere heart to heart, Kyle thought. I’ve got a bad feeling about this…

John quickly grabbed his blaster from his holster, and took a pot shot at Dann, hitting him in the arm. Before Kyle could move, John had turned the blaster on the boy and fired, hitting him in the stomach. Darkness started to creep in around the edges of Kyle’s vision as he thought, After all I’ve been through, this could be the end? He looked down at the burn hole in his stomach, and winced from the agonizing pain. As he watched the blood flow out of his stomach, he tried to apply pressure to his wounded gut but soon the darkness took him and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter One

[Medbay, Regis, Sonama System, Day Fourteen - 1955 Hours]

Kyle felt himself regain consciousness and tried to open his eyes. Unfortunately, the bacta he found himself floating in was not quite what he’d expected to see, so his attempts to survey his surroundings were skewed by the miracle liquid and its cylindrical container. He could see figures moving about him, probably attending to other patients, he assumed. Wait, he thought. What other patients? Last time I was conscious, there were no injuries to report! Did Dune injure more people aboard the ship? That would prove to be a bad deal, if it were the case. Red Squadron was barely able to sustain itself, scraping the bottom of the barrel to get twelve pilots. Seriously bottom of the barrel, considering that one new guy, Lock, Kyle joked to himself. First Lieutenant Micheal “Lock” McCauley was one of the newer pilots, scavenged from the disbanded Krayt Squadron. Although not a miserable pilot, he hadn’t managed to shoot down any TIEs in recent skirmishes, and that concerned the sixteen year old Flight Officer. I guess we’re a little shorthanded again now, seeing as I’m floating in bacta, and I can only assume that we won’t be seeing Dune any time soon.

Kyle thought back to the last time he was conscious, putting together the details. That was stupid of me to just walk into that. I should know better! I’ve been through worse on Rodia, seen worse in bad trading runs, so why wasn’t I more cautious? He attempted to sigh, but all that did was produce some extra air bubbles floating to the top of his tank. Great, I’m stuck in a bacta tank because of my lack of carefulness. That’s two big mistakes in recent history! His head on collision with a TIE Fighter that haunted his dreams had happened earlier this week, and however recently he’d been shot in the gut still hurt to think about. Squadron life is more dangerous than living on my own, I’ve grown dependent on everyone else, so trusting even that I walked into a corridor without being fully awake and examining the area.

Sleep started to overcome the young pilot again, and he let it take him. In his dream, Kyle found himself in the corridors of the Regis. Looks like I’m just outside the Mug, Kyle thought. As he walked past the entryway, he saw two of the squadron’s higher-ranking officers, who he easily identified as Captain Chris “Pip” Layne and Red’s CO Lieutenant Colonel Rob “Biggs” Baden, leaving the bar.

As their subordinate and still being relatively new to the squadron, the young pilot did not intrude the pair of older pilots, but Pip was quick to spot the boy and greet him. “Hey Gnoiz! Biggs and I are on our way to vape some Trainees in the sims. You in?”

“C’mon Mister Mandal,” Biggs added. “You could always use more practice.” The CO’s voice was stern, but from the expression on his face, it appeared that Biggs was just trying to offer the kid another chance to test his mettle against the inexperienced trainees. Kyle figured that it’d be an easy enough task, so he nodded and went along with the other pilots.

As they headed for the training room, they ran into Kyle’s wingman and flight leader, Major Paul “Rogue” Sweet, as well as Red’s XO, Major Richard “Wildstar” Vogel, and Captain Jamie “Shadow” Wetherill, all of whom joined Kyle, Chris, and Rob on the way to the simulators. This is strange, Kyle thought. It’s never been just the higher-ranking officers of the squadron and myself. Eh, he smiled, I guess I’m finally accepted. Even though he knew he was dreaming, this thought gave the young Flight Officer a boost of confidence.

That feeling was soon swept away, however, as the group of pilots continued down a dimly lit corridor. Kyle slowed down and fell behind the group, trying to identify the reason for the strange feeling he had in his gut. When the older pilots were a good six meters ahead of him, he finally understood what was wrong. This is where I got shot! the young pilot realized. Before he could warn his squadmates, however, a figure emerged from the shadows and stood in the middle of the group. Kyle quickly identified the new figure as John “Dune” Kimberly, and just as quickly noticed that the traitorous pilot was holding a thermal detonator.

Before he could think of what to do, Kyle suddenly realized he already had his pistol drawn and aimed at Dune’s head. Pip was the first to start pleading for Kyle’s help. “C’mon Gnoizic, shoot him already. Shoot him and we’ll all go for drinks on Wildstar, right sir?”

“Yes, Pip,” Wildstar replied. “Whatever works, just get us out of here! Pull the trigger already!” As Kyle tried to squeeze the trigger, he suddenly realized his hand had turned to carbonite. He tried to move his tighten his grip on the trigger with all his might, but it was to no avail; it would not budge.

“C’mon Kyle!” Biggs pleaded. “Shoot the bastard!” As Kyle continued to try, the cries of his fellow pilots came more rapidly and became indecipherable. Kyle kept his eye on his target who was looking him right back in the eye with a smirk. Then the inevitable finally happened. John Kimberly released the primed thermal detonator from his grasp, and Kyle watched as it fell to the ground, everything going by in slow motion. As he watched the silver sphere finally hit the ground, a giant explosion appeared, consuming the Red Squadron Officers as well as Dune, and knocking Kyle back into a wall, but not before seeing Dune’s face in the explosion, with an expression that clearly read You have failed your squadron. When he finally regained his footing, he walked down the corridor to where the explosion had been and stood in the middle of the carbon scoring left on the floor. The bodies of his fallen comrades were nowhere to be seen, and he assumed them to be decimated. As he looked up though, he saw the floating ghostly images of his former squadmates, all looking down at him with looks of disappointment. None were saying anything, leaving Kyle alone, thinking What have I done?

Chapter Two

[Medbay, Regis, Coruscant Orbit, Day Fifteen - 1535 Hours]

At long last, Kyle was awakened from his sleep by a tug he felt on his arms and mouth and was once again made aware of his liquid surroundings. He hadn’t had much experience in a bacta tank, but he knew enough to know that the tugging on his breathing tube meant it was time to emerge at last. The young Flight Officer swam to the top of the tank, and got out, disconnecting the breathing tube and all other cords that had bound him in the tank. A 2-1B medical droid met him as he descended from the tank, holding out a towel and some clothes for the teenager. Kyle dried himself off with the towel then quickly donned his clothes he would be wearing in the Medbay. When he was finished, the medical droid addressed him. “If you would, sir, please follow me.” Kyle complied without question, following the droid into another room of the Medbay that was marked by its multiple walls separating the beds of each patient from one another, allowing the sick or injured a chance to retain some of the same accommodations of privacy and homeliness available in the various cabins aboard the Regis. Kyle noted that a couple of the rooms were occupied, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the names on the lists. So Lieutenant Kimberly did wreak a little more havoc on the ship. Hopefully everyone is okay. Kyle’s thoughts were interrupted by his medical droid escort stopping at the last room of the Medbay. “This is your bunk, sir.”

“What?” Kyle asked before completely Registering what the droid had said. “Oh, thanks.”

“Feel free to use the holoprojector to watch holovids that are available from the ship’s library,” the 2-1B droid said, gesturing toward the holoprojector at the foot of Kyle’s temporary bed. “Dinner will be at 1800 hours, and one of our nurses will bring you your food.” The droid stood at attention and looked at the young pilot. “Enjoy your stay, sir, and if you need anything, let your nurse know. Good day, sir.”

As the medical droid left, Kyle decided to make himself at home in his room by getting onto his bunk and turning on the holoprojector, immediately skimming the list of available holovids. Of the titles he saw, he noticed quite a few Imperial-themed titles, such as Emperor’s Black Bones: A Mockumentry, that he considered watching, figuring that anything related to the Empire on an Alliance vessel would be geared towards the thinking of the Rebel Alliance. A title that caught his attention when he came across it was Knights of the Old Republic: The Mandalorian Wars. He impulsively chose to watch this vid out of his curiosity of his heritage. After receiving a message from his biological father earlier that year saying that he would be informing his son in segments about his heritage, and leaving some Mandalorian weapons and armor for Kyle, the teenager developed a natural curiosity about Mandalorian history and culture, hoping it would explain his heritage. He started up the holovid and watched it, intrigued by the storyline of Jedi Knights and their reluctance to go fight for the Republic against the Mandalorian threat that faced the galaxy some four thousand years before Kyle was born. A few Jedi broke free from their Masters, under the direction of two Jedi known as Revan and Malak, to take a stand against the Mandalorian threat. The vid followed the stories of a Jedi that followed Revan, as well as a few Republic soldiers and pilots, adding drama necessary for a well made film. The Mandalorians were portrayed as dark and evil, as if they were horrible villains that had to be stopped, although Kyle had learned enough to know that they were simply warriors, eager to take on another glorious battle, although he felt that the rumors of the Sith being the motivating factor behind the sudden attacks had merit. The vid included actual battle footage from many key battles in the Mandalorian Wars, and Kyle admired the Mandalorians and their tenacity in battle. They relied on brute force to win, annihilating all enemies in their paths with their powerful weapons and ships, yet they still held to a code of honor, placing the lives of their fellow Mandalorians above themselves, fighting for fallen comrades and ancestors, and giving their all in battle. How could I have possibly come from this? Kyle thought. These men and women fought well and to the death in any battle they engaged in. I’m sitting in a Medbay contemplating how I’ve ended up in this state. He shook it off. Questions for another time, maybe after I’ve tried to get back into the swing of things.

The vid ended with the Republic activating a Mass Shadow Generator at Malachor V and Revan dueling Mandalore to the death. The Mandalorian clans were disbanded; the heroes for the Jedi simply disappeared. Gnoizic watched on in great interest as the end of the vid showed the history of the Mandalorians. Over the years, they began to reunite their clans, and reclaim some of the glory they had lost, but they never presented much of a threat to the galaxy since. As the years advanced, the armor worn by Mandalorians had also improved, making changes time and time again until it ended up looking the same as the armor Kyle had received shortly after he turned sixteen earlier this year. Definitely could have used that armor when I got shot in the gut, he thought. That’s what I get for complying with orders to wear it less often. It probably scared Rogue to death when he met me back when I joined the training wing. He smiled, reminiscing to the first time he met any of the Red Squadron members. I was a sight to see, and most of them looked intimidated talking to someone in blood red Mandalorian armor.

His thoughts were disturbed by his injured stomach, but not because it was in much pain. As his stomach growled in hunger, Kyle realized he hadn’t eaten real food in what was probably days. He looked to the side of his bunk to his chronometer and saw that it was about time for dinner. “It’s about time,” he said aloud. He took note of nurses walking to the different patients, and was quick to realize there was one less nurse than there were patients to feed, and that he was the unlucky winner of waiting for dinner. He would have waited patiently, but he was starving and quickly came up with a plan. Without warning, he started making a sound that identically mimicked the sound of his heart monitor flat lining. Nurses in the Medbay perked up to the sound, but it was a nurse who hadn’t been there that rushed to his bedside to check on him, only to find him laying restlessly and breathing heavily.

After the nurse caught her breath, she checked all the systems monitoring her patient’s vitals. She was still dressed in full surgical scrubs and mask, so Kyle wasn’t able to get a good look at her. She finally caught her breath long enough to ask, “What’s the matter? All your vitals are showing up fine. I don’t understand.”

Still breathing heavy, the acting teenager continued his charade. He uttered in a weak voice, “I… need… food.” And from there he just remained as still as possible. Inside though, he braced for what he expected to be inevitable impact.

“Why you!” the nurse started to threat, but then she slowed down. “Wait a sec. How…? Your charts don’t show your vitals ever flat lining, so why did I hear the machine indicate that they were?”

“The machine never went off, and I was never flat lining,” Kyle confessed. “That sound you heard, I made myself. I’ve got a knack for impressions of all sorts of things. Starships, blaster bolts, heck I could have made it sound like a thermal detonator was about to explode, but I figured that wouldn’t get me anywhere.” When the nurse, still behind her mask, looked at him quizzically, he made the flat lining noise again, this time far quieter to keep the rest of the Medbay from panicking.

“What the…? How do you do that?” the nurse asked, obviously intrigued.

Kyle cracked a smile. “ Years of doing imitations. Apparently I’ve been mimicking sounds of all sorts since I was an infant. It got me my name, well, my real name, Gnoizic which means ‘one who makes noise” in Rodese.”

“Your real name is Rodese?” the nurse asked. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Rodia,” Kyle replied. “My father was a local. Green skin, bug eyes, big ears, the whole bit. He even-“

“Your father was a Rodian?” the nurse asked, obviously annoyed. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

Uh oh, the boy thought. Probably could have explained that a little differently. “No, no! I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he explained, waving his hands to keep his obviously annoyed audience at bay long enough to tell her the rest of the story. “You see, my real parents left me at a spaceport on Rodia when I was only a week old. Jurno, my ‘dad,’ was a mechanic at the spaceport who found me, and after no one claimed me, he raised me as his own. So you see, he’s the only father I’ve ever known, so I just naturally call him my dad, as weird as it sounds.”

Apparently that was enough to calm the nurse down a little bit, but when she noticed Kyle staring at her with a confused look of his own. “What’s the matter?” she asked after an awkward silence.

“Well,” he started. “I don’t want this to come off as rude, but, uh, what’s with the mask?”

It took his nurse a second to Register what he’d said before she suddenly realized what he was talking about. “Oh! I’m sorry, I completely forgot about this stuff. I ran straight from surgery when I heard the flat line alarm.” She removed her cap to reveal longish, straight brown hair that came to her shoulders. Kyle had already noticed her blue eyes, but when he saw her eyes twinkle with her friendly smile and her hair color accenting her eyes, he had to hold back to keep his jaw from dropping. She’s beautiful, he thought, praying that he hadn’t said that out loud. “I’m sorry I accused you of thinking that I’m stupid.”

Kyle, still dazed responded, “Yeah, me too.” Instantly realizing his error, he made his best effort to recover. “What I mean is, I’m sorry I scared you with my flat lining routine. I was just really hungry, and kinda impatient.”

“It’s okay. After the first initial panic, when I saw you were okay, I was impressed by your act,” she said with a smile. “You’ve definitely got a gift. Ever used it for jokes?”

Kyle smiled thinking back to many occasions where that was the case. “More than you could imagine,” he replied with a proud smile. “I’m somewhat of a prankster, but it has its usefulness in a lot of different applications.” His audience nodded in understanding. She’s got to be about my age, doesn’t look much older than sixteen, he thought.

“That sounds interesting,” his nurse said with an amused smile. “I bet it comes in handy a lot.” She paused for a second, and then her eye’s lit up. “Where have my manners gone? I’m Lieutenant Reiya Velnax.” She extended her hand to Kyle, and he shook it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant,” Kyle said, making sure to respect the rank of a senior officer. “I’m Flight Officer Kyle “Gnoizic” Mandal of Red Squadron.”

“Ah so you’re a flyboy, eh?” Reiya asked. “And don’t worry about the formalities, Mister Mandal,” she said with a smile. “I’m still just a kid, just like you. So please, just call me Reiya.”

Kyle smiled, starting to catch that he was correct about her age. “And feel free to call me Kyle, Gnoizic, or simply ‘Gnoiz’ for short, whichever you prefer.” A million ways to use introducing your name smoothly, and I couldn’t come up with one? I am losing my touch, he thought, making fun of himself. Since Reiya hadn’t already left already, he felt comfortable enough to continue engaging in conversation. “So are you new to the Regis? I was here until about a month ago when I got called up to Red Squadron, and I thought I knew basically everyone on the ship, and I’ve been to the Medbay a few times, but I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

Reiya replied, “Well I am new around here. I got transferred to the Regis about the time the Morning Star was sent off for repairs. My mother was a nurse too, but she died in a battle on the Outer Rim while I was stationed elsewhere.” She frowned, in an obvious state of discomfort. “She was a good nurse though, top notch in field surgery and well known as the best nurse in her fleet. She even served as head nurse aboard the Frigate Redemption at the Battle of Endor. She died recently, but with the Krytos virus spreading on Coruscant, I was asked to come here, in hopes that I am just as skilled a nurse as my mother. It’s a legacy I try to live up to, but she left big shoes to fill. I’ve been planetside several times trying to figure the Krytos virus out with a team of experts, but I got called back up here to patch up pilots. Apparently there was a firefight?”

Kyle explained as far as he knew. “If anything happened, I wasn’t around for much of it. I’m pretty sure I was the first man down. Then after I was shot in the gut, I heard the alarms blaring as I slipped into unconsciousness.” He sighed. “Oh well, at least I’m still around to talk about it, eh? I can’t complain too much.” Still curious about Reiya, he asked, “So how old are you? You seem pretty young for a nurse. It’s impressive.”

“I’m sixteen,” she replied, and looked at Kyle’s chart. “According to this thing, I’m a little younger than you are. I started with this nursing business back when my mother joined the Alliance some time after the Battle of Hoth. I got pushed in head first into it all. There were so many casualties that I had to help my mother with. It was intense,” she said, staring off into space. “From there I got more responsibilities, and although I never went to a certified nursing school, my mother taught me everything she knew in the spare time she had. After awhile, the Alliance certified me as a nurse, so now I can officially work in surgical procedures and take care of patients.”

Kyle was about to respond in amazement, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl, much to Reiya’s amusement. “Was that your stomach, or am I just boring you enough that you’re making more sounds?” She flashed him a wry smile, letting him know she was just picking on him.

“Unfortunately, that’s the real deal,” Kyle said with a feigned frown on his face. “But I would like to keep talking sometime, if you have the time. Maybe head down to the Mug for some Reeb Toors once I’m cleared to move around?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Reiya said with a smile. “It’s nice having someone my age around to talk to, even if you’re one of those hotshot flyboys,” she continued with a wink.

“I’m no hotshot,” Kyle responded modestly. “Heck, last time I was out there, I went nose to nose with a TIE Fighter, and barely survived the collision.”

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to work on that a little harder when we release you to move about so you can hit the Sims.” Reiya smiled, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do fine once you get back out there. Now to get you something to eat.”

Chapter Three

[Medbay, Regis, Coruscant Orbit, Day Sixteen - 1201 Hours]

It was about noon and Kyle was just enjoying his nerf burger lunch whenever Reiya stopped by. “Hello!” Kyle greeted. “What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm, knowing that being his nurse, Reiya would be doing any follow up or check work.

“Today we’re going to let you roam around, so you don’t have to sit here in the Medbay all day,” Reiya informed him. “Everything checks out; you’re all set to head on out!” She smiled at him, and as he looked at her sparkling blue eyes, his heart melted a little. “Still up for a drink, Kyle?”

“Of course!” the teen responded excitedly. “It’s nice knowing some people my age out here. When is your shift over?”

“I go on break at about 1800 hours, give or take a few minutes. I’ll meet you at the Mug, okay?”

Kyle replied with a grin, “It’s a done deal, I’ll see you then.” The young pilot got out of his bunk and headed for the Medbay exit, and the doors slid apart as he approached them. He made his way to his cabin, which was on another deck, so he took the turbolift. When he got to his cabin, he punched in the code and the door slid open.

He was quick to notice Second Lieutenant David “Wild Cat” Fate, his cabinmate, staring at a holoscreen going through some old photos. “Knock, knock,” Kyle said, resisting the urge to make the sound himself. If David hadn’t already turned around to him being there, he was deep in his own world. But as Kyle spoke, his roommate perked up and turned around.

“Oh, hey Gnoiz!” he said to acknowledge his intruder. “How are you feeling? I heard you took a nice shot to the gut from Dune. Don’t worry, we won’t be seeing him around anymore,” he added reassuringly.

Kyle’s memories flashed back quickly. “Yeah, it felt pretty bad initially and left a nice little hole in my belly.” He continued, “It wasn’t anything our medical team couldn’t treat with bacta. But I don’t think it’s as bad as the one time Pip got me hammered a couple of weeks ago planetside,” he added with a laugh. “That’s the last time I trust that goofball with drinks, and I’m pretty sure mine was spiked or something.”

David sat still for a moment, not taking in the joke before he quietly said, “Yeah, that is the last time you’ll trust him with drinks.” He sighed. When Kyle gave him a confused look, he asked him, “Have you not heard what happened?”

Kyle shook his head, feeling his heart start to sink. “No, what happened? Is Chris okay?”

David shook his head and started retelling the story, trying to hold back tears. “Chris and I were on patrol when an Imperial task force jumped in and started launching TIEs. This happened a little after you were shot by Dune. Anyway, we tried fighting off the squints sent to attack us and crippled a Corvette they brought in system when Chris told me to break off and take the dupes that were launched at the Regis. I thought he had lost his mind when he told me he planned to have the squints trail him past the Corvette right as its reactor would go critical. I had confidence in him, and there was no changing his mind at the time. He was an ace pilot, and I figured if anyone could make it out of a suicide stunt like that, it’d be him. Unfortunately, I was wrong, and when the reactor blew, Pip got caught up in the blast. All eleven TIEs tailing him were vaped too, sure. But Chris didn’t have to go do that. He didn’t have to make a sacrifice. Orion Squadron was on the way to assist. But he had his mind made up, whether it was because he’d lost his mind before hand, I’m not sure. I can’t help but feel like I could have done something for him. The memory keeps replaying over and over in my head, and each time, I see alternatives to what happened.”

“As is natural,” the younger pilot interjected, trying to keep his fellow pilot from getting depressed and blaming himself for the loss of his best friend. “There’s nothing you could have done. Pip was strong-willed and he had his plan. Like you said, no one could stop him. If you didn’t pull back and take out the dupes, they could’ve done a number on the Regis. You did what you had to do to help the rest of us. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Would Chris want you to be down like this? You know he was a goofball to pull us all outta whatever depression came our ways.”

“You’re right kid,” David replied after heaving a huge sigh. “But you know about as well as I do, he wasn’t the same after Sheva’s death. He wasn’t the prankster or trying to tell jokes. He was serious and heartbroken. He wasn’t quite Pip anymore. And I can’t help but think that that is what influenced him to go through with what he did.”

Kyle patted his squadmate on the back for some form of comfort, even though by the second he was growing more depressed as well. “He may have been, but he went down swinging, and heroically. We all know he was loud and at times annoying to Biggs, but that’s exactly why this was fitting in a way. Chris had plenty of loud moments, and it was appropriate that he went out with a bang, sacrificing himself, out of insanity or heroics, for you and even the rest of us who were still aboard the Regis.” He paused, knowing that no amount of words he could say would entirely erase the pain they both felt. “It’s gotta be hard to lose your best friend, and to be right there when it happened. You can’t do this to yourself though. Remember the good times you guys had, dwell on the jokes and whatnot Chris would tell. It’s hard at first, but eventually, the pain goes away. And in some ways, the dead never really leave you. They stick around, in your memories, so remember Chris for who he was, your friend.”

David looked at his younger squadmate, and took the truth in what he was saying. “I know. It’s just going to be hard for a while.” He managed a small smile again, “I’ll get back on my feet, don’t worry. Just give me time. Anyways, I’m due at the Sims soon to vape the ‘hot shot’ cadets. Care to join?”

Kyle laughed. “Now there’s something I need a little more time on before I try that again. I think Biggs has me slated to restart tomorrow, and I’m gonna rest up for that chance.”

David shrugged. “Suit yourself, Gnoiz. Just be sure to give it another go round real soon, okay? Don’t want your piloting to get all rusty and predictable.” Kyle nodded, and David started to head out, but he turned around as he opened the door. “Hey, Kyle. Thanks for the talk, I’m glad you’ve got my six in this.”

“That’s what squadmates are for,” Kyle replied with a grin, starting to feel a little more accepted within his squadron. “Now go on, space a few cadets for me.”

[The Mug; Frigate Regis; Coruscant Orbit; Day Sixteen- 1757 Hrs.]

Kyle walked in to the Mug, the Regis’ bar, and looked for Reiya, hoping that he hadn’t shown up later than her. After examining the room for a few seconds and not seeing anything, he went to an unoccupied table he’d spotted and sat down in one of its two empty chairs, naturally taking the one that had the best view of the Mug’s only entryway. It was a habit he’d picked up whenever he lived on his own for about a year, and made it easy to assess threats as they walked in the door. Tonight though, he knew he had nothing to worry about. For the past several hours, he’d been in his cabin, going through some of his belongings and organizing them in his cabin, now that he’d found the time, and had needed a slight distraction. Chris’ death had hit him hard, as Chris was one of the quickest to accept the new pilot when he finally made it to the squadron. He’d make fun of him, but he’d always make sure the younger pilot knew that he was only joking around, as usual. Kyle had only been in Red Squadron for about a month, so he hadn’t grown really close with any of his squadmates yet. He couldn’t imagine how it felt for those who had known Chris for years, flown side by side with him in countless battles, especially his wingman, David. Chris left a big hole for the squadron to fill, especially in the morale department, and everyone knew it.

It hit Kyle that although he had only been a part of Red Squadron for a whole month already, he hadn’t really gotten to know much about the people around him. He knew that Chris was the resident goofball, but didn’t ever get to know him all that well. He knew Rogue because the older pilot had trained him here aboard the Regis before he was pulled up to be combat ready and placed in his training officer’s flight group, and he’d listened to a couple of his stories of being an Imperial Commando, but beyond that, he didn’t know a lot. He knew Red Squadron had faced many battles, but he didn’t know what all had happened, where everyone was coming from. Short of buying everyone a few drinks, Kyle had thus far kept to himself, because although he was now part of the “team,” he didn’t want to interfere with any of the squadron’s chemistry, because they’d weathered it all just fine before him. But now is a time of change, Kyle thought. With the integration of squadrons, and now with the loss of Pip, the squad chemistry is shaken up enough. It’s time to find where I fit in to all of this. So he resolved to start opening up to everyone, as this place was home, and his squadron was family.

Reiya finally walked in the door, and Kyle couldn’t help but smile. She looked more beautiful than she had when he’d met her just the day before, and was obviously happy to see him when she did spot him. “Hey, Rey,” Kyle greeted, hoping she wouldn’t mind the nickname he’d used.

“Hey, Gnoiz,” she responded as she sat down. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to look like I came fresh out of surgery.”

“No worries,” Kyle replied honestly. “How was your shift?”

“It was interesting,” Reiya answered, obviously going into thought to tell a story. “One of the engineers, a Sullustan, was working down in the engine room when this old bucket of bolts shot one in his ear.” Kyle laughed light heartedly and nodded, waiting for the rest of the story. “It took us a little while, but we finally managed to wedge the bolt out of his massive ear.”

“Must have been one lucky shot,” Kyle chimed in, half-sarcastically. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. On the other hand though, I’m dying of thirst. We still getting those reeb toors?”

“Yeah, I’ve got em,” Kyle said as he stood up and approached the bar. He ordered a pair of reeb toors from Trixel, the Mug’s bartender. She slid him the drinks, he slid her some credits and returned to his spot. “Here you go, one for you,” he said as he placed a bottle in front of Reiya. “And one for me,” he finished as he took a swig of it.

“So what’s your story?” Reiya asked after a sip of her soda.

“My story?” Kyle asked, slightly confused.

“Yeah, you know. Everyone has a story on this ship. How’d you get here? What was your life like? I know you were raised on Rodia by a local, and you’ve got a gift for sound effects, but what else?”

“Oh, okay,” Kyle replied with a little surprise. Just when I was thinking of opening up, BAM! An opportunity arises. Story of my life I guess. “Feel free to stop me at any time, this could get boring.” He began mumbling to himself, “Where to start, where to start?”

“Try the beginning,” Reiya interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, okay,” Kyle replied nervously. He took a swig of his reeb toor. “Well, here goes nothing. As I told you before, I was orphaned at a young age, probably about a week old. My biological parents didn’t even leave me with a name, so when my adoptive father, Jurno, found me at the spaceport, the only thing he would call me is the little human boy. I was raised by him, and other Rodians who would babysit me while he was out working, so I was quick to develop my first language as Rodese, and I mimicked Rodian voice patterns perfectly, so I was one of the cutest things in town.” Gnoizic laughed in recollection. “Heck, I’ll bet Jurno used me to pick up dates from time to time.”

“Sounds like he enjoyed having you as a son from the get go,” Reiya chimed in. “You say Rodese is your first language? How many can you speak?” she asked, with obvious interest.

Kyle did his best to mimic a standard protocol droid in his reply. “Well, although I am no protocol droid, I am fluent in over thirty different forms of communication including Rodese, Basic, Huttese, Jawaese, and the beeps and whistles of all sorts of droids, especially astromechs.”

“I bet that comes in handy in combat, flyboy,” Reiya said, barely covering a laugh brought about by Kyle’s impressions.

Kyle grinned and nodded, “It sure does, because it guarantees that I won’t be looking at the translation screen when I’m flying. Not that Tourniquet talks a whole lot to me anyway. Doesn’t seem to matter how hard I try, that droid just doesn’t seem to like me too much.”

“Give him time,” Reiya encouraged. “You’ll grow on each other.”

“I know, but it may take a while. He was very devoted to his last pilot, as far as I can tell. And I don’t know what exactly happened there, but his master is gone, and he stayed here.” Lost in thought for a second, Kyle shook his head. “Anyway, back to the story. After about six months of being adopted, I had yet to acquire a name, and Jurno had run out of babysitters to take care of me, so he took me to the spaceport one day. As he tells it, on the way home, he heard a starship roar close behind his speeder, and he looked around to see what it was, but didn’t see anything. He heard it again later, and still later until he finally discovered that the noise was being made by none other than yours truly, copying some of the ships I’d heard come in that day. With that, Jurno named me ‘Gnoizic,’ which as I told you is Rodese for ‘one who makes noise.’ So really my name is Gnoizic, but I go by Kyle for reasons I’ll get to in a little bit.”

“So what ever got you into piloting?” Reiya asked.

“Jurno was a mechanic, so when I was about three, he started taking me to work, mostly just so I could learn a few more languages from the pilots that came through. Even though it was so long ago, and a very distant memory, I remember always being fascinated by starships. As I got older, Jurno taught me how to do more and more things as far as being a mechanic. By day, I would tinker with various components of ships to fix them, while at night I would read up on different ships and all of their specs. Starfighters were always my favorite, because they were small and quick, and in my opinion beautiful works of art and machinery at their finest. Jurno saw my interest in ships, so he taught me to fly the ones we were repairing.”

“You mean you got to joyride in your customers’ ships?” Reiya asked, completely lost. “They approved of that?”

Kyle shook his head, “We didn’t fly all the ships we were fixing, just the ones that were barely able to fly when they came in. We had to guarantee that they were spaceworthy, and no customers had any complaints about having someone else risk their life to make sure it was a sound ship. For my eighth birthday, Jurno let me fly a ship all by myself for the first time, a Z-95 Headhunter. I fell in love with it, and flying on my own. Every time I got the chance, I would fly ships out to the moons Enak or Yasooka and back, trying new things every time, pushing my limits as a young pilot.”

"Ah, so you found your calling early?" Reiya asked, but left it as a rhetorical question. "So is that how you ended up here? You just enjoyed flying enough and eventually left the spaceport behind to join the Rebellion?"

"Oh no," Kyle replied. "Not even close. This is where the story starts to get a little more complicated, and hopefully, for the sake of my audience, more interesting too," he said with a wink, but honestly hoped he wasn’t boring Reiya to tears. She looked at him attentively, and after another sip of reeb toor for some caffeinated encouragement, he started up again. "About the time I was nine, Jurno and I did some repair work on some heavily damaged X-Wings and Y-Wings that had narrowly escaped the Imperials. The pilots called themselves Rebels, and that was the first time I’d really heard anything about the Rebel Alliance. Never one to turn down business, especially for people as nice as the Rebels, Jurno took on the task of fixing those fighters and as his son, I volunteered to help as well." Kyle paused in recollection, smiling at his first memories of flying an X-Wing.

His expression soon sank, and Reiya took notice. "What’s wrong? What happened next?" she asked out of concern.

Kyle stared at his reeb toor bottle for a second, and then looked back up to Reiya before continuing. "Rodia has always had an affiliation with the Empire, and when word spread that we’d been helping Rebels, a bounty was placed on Jurno’s head. One day while I was cleaning out the cockpit of a Z-95, I noticed a man carrying a blaster walk in to the hangar bay and move towards Jurno. I tried to say something, but I was too late; the bounty hunter had captured him. As Jurno struggled, I jumped out of the cockpit and ran toward the bounty hunter as fast as I could. He had Jurno in stuncuffs, and by the time I got to him, he was ready for me. I tried to punch him, kick him, anything to stop him, but at nine years old, what damage would I do to a fully grown bounty hunter? With one sweep of his arm, he knocked me to the hangar floor. I tried to fight again, but this time he simply grabbed me by the neck, held me up and laughed at me, calling me a runt. Local security forces came by soon, and the bounty hunter handed me off to them, telling them to do with me as they saw fit. With no living relatives, and my ‘crime’ of aiding Rebels put against me, I was put into a Rodian political prison."

"You were put in prison?" Reiya asked in astonishment, her eyes wide. "At that young of an age? That’s terrible!"

"Actually it wasn’t too unbearable, for the most part," Kyle said, raising his hands to keep the young nurse sitting across from him at bay. "In this prison, the younger prisoners are educated in the Rodese arts of theater and hunting. Theater I took an instant liking too, especially with my talent for languages and sound effects. We put on many plays, mostly over Rodian history, such as The Rise and Fall of the Rodian Empire."

"And I can imagine you got leading roles many times," Reiya complimented. "You’ve got a talent that fits theater perfectly."

Kyle smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I tried my hand at leading roles a few times and would nail the voices pretty much spot on, but I preferred taking on the roles of comic relief. I love making people laugh, if I can. It helped that laughter was what made prison life more bearable."

"I think laughter would make any situation better," Reiya chimed in. "It works wonders in surgery if we have a skilled surgeon with a sharp wit. Tension eases pretty quickly.”

"Exactly!" Kyle agreed, pleased to know he was talking to someone who valued a sense of humor. "On the flip side of theater and all the laughter that entailed, hunting was almost an entirely different adventure. Our instructors would take small groups of us at a time out into the jungle, and arm us with various hunting weapons, ranging from rifles to knives to archaic bows and arrows. To Rodians, hunting is an art, and those who perfect that art are held in high esteem. We even-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Reiya interrupted after finishing a sip of her soda. "They armed you with weapons? While you were in prison?" She looked at him in disbelief, and said, "That doesn’t sound very smart to me."

Kyle grinned, glad that Reiya could catch on to the trivial bits of his story. She’s plenty interested in this story. "You’re a sharp kid. Fortunately, for the Rodians, anyway, there was a system that pretty effectively thwarted almost every escape thought, not to mention all but maybe one attempt. Some of Rodia’s finest sharpshooters had set up shop nearby the hunting grounds and would watch our every move. Any attempt to escape or rebel was met with sniper fire."

"Ah, that would do it," Reiya nodded in approval. "So that was your life? Theater, hunting, and prison?"

"For a while, yes, but that wasn’t how it stayed for the duration," Kyle said, receiving an intrigued look from Reiya. "The law only permits political prisoners to be educated by the prison’s programs until they reach the age of fifteen. At that age, prisoners are deemed adults and are sent to fight in Rodia’s gladiator games in Iskaayuma, the planet’s capital. Since the dawn of Rodian time, they have prided themselves on gladiatorial contests, using them to find the fiercest hunters on the planet to send off world as assassins and bounty hunters."

"So your punishment was to fight your way to freedom?" Reiya asked, frowning skeptically. "That hardly seems fair."

Kyle chuckled a little. "It wasn’t quite that simple. My punishment was to be target practice." He watched as Reiya’s eyes grew to the size of thermal detonators, and grinned at her reaction. "The games typically pit some of Rodia’s finest hunters vying for esteem against Rodia’s hardened criminals. I tried to avoid making friendships with any of the prisoners simply because none of us had an exceptionally long life expectancy. It didn’t help that from time to time we were forced into free-for-all situations against each other."

"You fought other prisoners? That had to be tough." Reiya looked at the young pilot with a different, almost terrified stare.

Oh boy, Kyle thought, remembering his audience was a healer, not a killer. I’ve got to be careful in wording this. Thinking on his feet, but buying a couple of seconds to think his story through in a careful manner, he spotted J-2PO, the Regis’ protocol droid. He held a finger up to stall Reiya for a second, telling her, "One second," before calling to the droid as he made his rounds. "Jaytoo, can you get us a couple more reeb toors?"

"It would be my pleasure, Mister Mandal," the droid responded before turning toward the bar.

"Thanks!" Kyle called after him, then reverted his attention to Reiya. "Where was I? Oh yes, the arena. We were unfortunately pitted against other prisoners from time to time; occasionally fighting people we had grudgingly shared a cell with the night before. For the most part, however, the other prisoners were thieves and murderers, responsible for such atrocities as bombing government buildings or assassinating Imperial liaisons. They all knew how to kill and weren’t afraid to fight their way out of prison. Of all the prisoners, I was the one that everyone bet against in the fights, simply due to my lack of ‘experience." He managed a defiant grin as he continued, spreading his arms wide, emphasizing the point he was about to make. "Obviously there were many bets lost courtesy of yours truly. I picked up on fighting as if it was part of my nature."

"Well I’m glad you managed to survive!" Reiya exclaimed with a smile. "So how’d you ever make your way off that rock?"

J-2PO had just returned with their reeb toors, and Kyle thanked the droid before he continued his story. "After about four months of fighting, day in and day out, I started to gain fame around Rodia, and around that time, my freedom was bought out by an anonymous source. This was announced to me after one last fight, where I was awarded the honor of Rodia’s Best Shot of the Year by Navik the Red, our planet’s leader." He took a swig of his reeb toor as Reiya nodded in amazement. "I had no idea who had purchased my freedom, simply assuming it was an overzealous fan, but when I heard that they had also provided a ship, a YT-2000 dubbed the Gnoiz Maker, I put Rodia to the ship’s aft and left for good." He could see Reiya’s lips get ready to move and ask another question, but he interjected. "Before you ask, at this point I started looking to make a living on my own, contacting a trader who had frequented Jurno’s repair bay when I was younger, a Sullustan named Snemn. Figuring that he owed Jurno a few favors, I asked him if he could use any extra hands in his trading business, and he set me up with a short term contract just to see how things went." Kyle smiled, recalling memories from a not so distant past. "I got into a few run-ins with Imperials who realized I was smuggling goods right under their noses. That led to some fun firefights, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I got to tour the stars, living a childhood dream, visiting worlds far different than my homeworld."

"It’s a beautiful galaxy," Reiya added. "So many different worlds and cultures, it’s truly amazing."

"That it is," Kyle agreed, looking up to smile at something else beautiful he’d come across in the galaxy, and she smiled back. "Anyway, about three weeks after my sixteenth birthday, I received a message that rocked my world, putting everything in a different perspective."

"Who sent it? What did it say?" Reiya asked to fill the silence Kyle had left for a few seconds.

To build up more tension in the curious nurse sitting across from him, he gulped a bit more of his drink and gauged her anticipation until he figured he’d stalled enough. "I got a message from my father."

"Your father? So Jurno made it away from the bounty hunter?"

Kyle just shook his head, keeping his face as serious as possible. "It wasn’t Jurno. This message was from my biological father, the one who had orphaned me on Rodia sixteen years before." Reiya’s mouth was left agape from shock, and it was obvious she was speechless, so he continued. "The message from him explained that he was the one who had bought my way to freedom and provided the ship. He also gave me a code to unlock a storage compartment in the back, informing me that its contents would help explain my heritage. When I opened the container, I found myself staring face to face with a red suit of Mandalorian Armor, which I quickly donned, finding that it was a perfect fit. As I examined the other contents of the container, I discovered a wide variety of Mandalorian weapons, including this beauty." He pulled a heavy-bore Mandalorian pistol out of his holster and handed it to Reiya.

Still in shock and awe, Reiya could only manage to say, "Wow, it is beautiful!" at first. After a couple of seconds of examining the pistol, she handed it back to Kyle, who smoothly slid it back into its holster.

"It is a fine piece of machinery," Kyle admitted with a smile. "I was proud of my heritage from the beginning, and I wore my armor everywhere, even to sleep." When he received a skeptical look from Reiya, he waved his hands in front of him and assured her, "Don’t worry, I still kept good hygiene; I wasn’t that attached."

Reiya laughed at him. "Good to know, flyboy! I was starting to get concerned." She winked at him to let him know she was only kidding. "So was it your biological father who gave you the name ‘Kyle Mandal?’"

“He didn’t give me a last name, commonly referring to me as Gnoizic, but at one point he did slip and call me Kyle,” the pilot replied. “Figuring that was my given name, I kept it, tacking on Mandal as a last name that matched the Mandalorian armor I’d received.” His face skewed into a slightly mischievous grin. “Not a lot of people are willing to cross a Mandalorian, so the name combined with the armor proved to be very useful in trade dealings, getting me bargains even from Hutts on more than one occasion. I credit my success to Boba Fett, due to his fearsome reputation that has made people fear Mandalorians once again.”

“Not too shabby, Gnoiz,” Reyia complemented with a smile, sipping at her reeb toor. “So is this about the end of your journey to the Alliance?”

Kyle sighed and continued in feigned agony. “Sadly, yes, we are close to the end of my little tale. Eventually, my trade routes led me out to the Dolomar system, where the Morning Star and her flotilla were stationed at the time. I contacted the ship, eager to make a few additional sales on some left over supplies I’d ‘liberated’ from the Imperials. I met a few members of the squadron as well, but one of my fastest friends was a cadet by the name of Aaron ‘Jackal’ Wolff, stationed aboard the Regis in the Training Wing. Aaron challenged me to a race to see which of us could be promoted to Red Squadron first, and knowing that my contract with Snemn was at an end, I accepted, joining the Training Wing.”

“So who won the contest?” Reiya asked. “I haven’t even heard of this ‘Jackal’ character.”

“Well, we were both going to be promoted at the same time to help replenish Red Squadron’s roster,” Kyle replied, his face turning grim. He just shook his head. “At the first Battle of Balfron, however, the Regis took some heavy damage from Bombers and Gunboats. Jackal and I had made our way down to the hangar to help in any way that we could when the training shuttle blew up in the hangar. I was knocked down by the blast, receiving some minor cuts and bruises, but Jackal was much closer to the explosion. He suffered some severe burns as well as many broken bones, requiring more treatment than we could provide here.” Kyle managed to force a smile onto his face. “Our transfer orders came in very soon after, so I made my way here to the Mug and bought some Corellian Whiskey, Whyren’s Reserve, as per our bet. When Jackal had enough strength to talk and drink, I visited him in the Medbay, and we poured some of the drink and celebrated our promotions. A couple of hours later, he was shipped of the Frigate Redemption, where the surgical staff would get to work patching him up.” Kyle sighed. “One of my few friends around here, and he’s probably going to end up reassigned elsewhere.”

“It’ll be alright,” Reiya reassured him with a friendly smile. “You’ve got a friend in me, and you’ve got Red Squadron. They’re your family now. And we’re all fighting an enemy that has wronged us in some way.”

Kyle just stared at his reeb toor, contemplating something that statement. “Not quite all of us,” he said after a moment of silence.

“What do you mean?” Reiya asked, immediately confused. “The Imperials took Jurno away from you, leaving you to die. They caused all of the things you went through in life, didn’t they?”

Kyle paused, then shook his head again. “No, it wasn’t them.”

“What do you mean?”

“In recent messages from my real father, he explained that almost everything in my life was part of his plan,” he replied with a frown, looking up at Reiya’s shocked face. “The ‘Rebels’ we helped out? They were Mandalorian agents disguised as Rebels; the bounty placed on Jurno’s head was collected by a Mandalorian. My dad knew how everything would play out. He knew that I would be placed in a political prison and that I would be educated in the art of hunting by one of the finest hunting species in the galaxy. This was all to be my ‘training’ to be a Mandalorian warrior. The only thing that wasn’t staged was the gladiatorial contests. Those fights were real, and I did have to fight for my life day in and day out. There were no second chances there. I succeeded or I died. It was my father’s ultimate coming of age test. And I succeeded.”

“That’s horrible!” Reiya exclaimed. “Why would your father put you through all that?”

“It’s Mandalorian culture,” Kyle responded automatically, showing no sort of emotion on his face. “We are trained to be warriors. The problem now is that I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here, in this Squadron. I don’t have anything to fight for, and I feel that the only reason I’m here is because of some bet. I haven’t even been doing well as a pilot lately.” Reiya’s expression sank a little, mirroring Kyle’s own feelings. He sat in shock at the things he had just said, and the sudden realizations he had just made.

Reiya stood up, walked over to the viewport, and looked down to the planet below. “I want to show you something. I’m going down planetside in a couple of days, and I’d like for you to come along with me.” She looked back at Kyle, who had stood up to follow her to the viewport.

He stared into her beautiful blue eyes and nodded. “Of course. I’ll go with you.”

“Great, I’ll make the arrangements for that,” Reyia replied. She smiled at him, then took a look at her chronometer. “Wow! Time does fly. I’ve got to get ready for my next shift, which starts in about ten minutes.” She walked towards the table, finished off the little bit of her reeb toor, and started to walk out of the Mug.

Kyle followed suit, and as they got out to the entryway, he stopped. “Reiya, I just want to say thanks.”

She stopped at looked him in the eyes. “For what?”

“For listening to me. It felt good to get a lot of that off my chest and just talk to someone.” He smiled. “You’re a good friend, and I’m glad I got to meet you. Maybe we can do this again sometime,” he added hopefully, a huge grin on his face.

She returned the grin, “Of course! Just next time, it’s my turn to tell the stories and bore you to tears, alright?” She winked at him once again.

“Oh, I guess that’s only fair,” Kyle replied with a false sense of disappointment, smiling the entire time.

“You’re a good friend, and a good pilot. The Alliance needs people like you. Don’t ever forget that, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” Kyle said honestly. “Thanks, Rey.” She moved in to hug him, and he embraced her. They stood there for a few seconds, and Kyle’s mood instantly improved. “I’ll see you later!”

Reiya let go and walked away. “Later, flyboy.”

Kyle turned the opposite way to return to his room. Not bad, he thought to himself. Not bad at all.

Chapter Four

[X-Wing Simulator, Regis, Coruscant Orbit, Day Seventeen – 0919 Hours]

“You all set back there, Tourniquet?” Kyle asked, preparing for his first round in a simulator since his injury. As the droid tootled a response Kyle understood clearly as “Yes,” the simulator’s screens activated, showing another X-Wing sitting in the Regis’ hangar bay, ready to fly. The young pilot watched the other starfighter, waited for it to take off, and followed it out of the hangar.

“Red Ten, set up a patrol of the convoy,” came Paul “Rogue” Sweet’s voice over the intercom.

“Got it Boss,” Kyle responded, making a heading for the nearest convoy ship. The premise of this mission was simple: escort a Rebel convoy carrying bacta to the rendezvous point. It didn’t sound like it was too difficult a mission to accomplish at first, but knowing Rogue as the simulator programmer, Kyle anticipated a few surprises. In the mean time, he inspected every ship in the convoy, making sure the cargo they each carried matched what they should be carrying, then assigned each ship a priority. Unarmed bacta freighters were put on high priority, unarmed supply freighters took second, armed bacta freighters took third priority and escort ships were left to the least of his concerns. “Tourniquet, boost scanner range as far as possible. I want to know of any inbound craft the instant they emerge from hyperspace.” Tourniquet let out a complying beep. The waiting game had begun.

As he waited, Kyle practiced several maneuvers, making sure his piloting ability hadn’t deteriorated since the last time he had flown. His snap-rolls were still crisp, his random evading abilities still seemed to be in order, and just as he was about to try more tricky maneuvers around the convoy ships, Tourniquet let out a warning beep. Enemies had been detected.

Kyle targeted the new contacts, confirming the Tourniquet’s warning. “Rogue, we’ve got two Strike Cruisers inbound, setting up shop on either side of the convoy. Orders?”

As he waited for Rogue’s response, Kyle heard Tourniquet beep a warning, indicating that each Cruiser had launched three TIE Interceptors. Rogue’s voice finally came over the intercom. “Gnoiz, take the squints launching from the Sadow’s Shadow; I’ll take the one’s launching from the Scythe.”

Kyle made a heading for the inbound squints. “As ordered, sir. On my way.” He cued up his first target on his targeting computer, noticing that it was still quite a ways out. Fortunate that they didn’t get any closer, but then again, this is probably supposed to be simulating a random Imperial patrol. As he closed in on the lead Interceptor, he began to anticipate the Imperials sending in reinforcements from their Strike Cruisers. Six Interceptors against a bacta convoy? he asked himself. Surely they’ll send in Bombers soon. He set his lasers to dual fire and as soon as he was in range of the lead TIE, he took two shots and dived. The Interceptor did not respond quickly enough, taking the two paired shots right to the cockpit, eliminating the fighter. His wingmen, however, followed the X-Wing that had fired on their leader and returned fire. “This is where the fun begins, Tourniquet,” Kyle warned with a slight grin. “Hang on back there.” He pulled into a full throttle loop, gradually tightening the loop’s radius by steadily decreasing the throttle. One Interceptor got a little closer to Kyle as he tried to evade, but both managed to stay in hot pursuit. Kyle looked back to gauge the distance of the closest fighter and suddenly cut the throttle drastically. The first Interceptor had been too close, overshooting its target. Kyle quickly lined it up in his sights and fired three quick bursts. The first pair missed entirely, but the second and third pair ripped straight through the shieldless craft’s starboard wing. Kyle grinned in triumph. “Now I’ve got the advantage.”

The last squint proved to be more of a challenge to Kyle than the previous two had been. As Kyle vaped his wingmate, the last fighter opened fire on the X-Wing he was tailing, rapidly dissipating Kyle’s shields. As Kyle tried to evade by weaving, rolling and diving at random, the squint kept after him almost flawlessly. This guy is good for a Cadet, Kyle thought. I’d bet it’s Justin. Justin “Forcekill” Comeau was one of the up and coming Red Trainees, and Kyle had little doubt he’d be joining the squadron soon. “Let’s try something different.” Kyle dumped all power, shields and lasers, to his engines, allowing him to speed further ahead of the squint tailing him, Tourniquet whistling a warning at him the entire way. When he got to a respectable distance from his attacker, he looped his X-Wing around quickly to go nose-to-nose with the Interceptor, dumping all power he could to lasers and keeping shields at a constant rate. With a steady hand, Kyle lined up the shot on the Interceptor and fired the instant it got in range. He scored two quick hits on the shocked pilot, knocking his opponent out of commission.

“Okay Tourniquet, what were you saying about reinforcements?” Kyle asked. His response was not a whistle from his astromech, but rather a couple of shots to his aft shields. He looked around and spotted two TIE Avengers on course to intercept him. He dumped as much power as he could back into his shields to replenish them and started up evasive maneuvers again. As he rolled and dived to avoid fire from the more agile craft on his tail, he noticed that his flying had brought him into the shadow of the Strike Cruiser Sadow’s Shadow. An idea started to formulate in his mind. I may be outnumbered, and outgunned, but that doesn’t mean I can’t outsmart them. He broke hard to port, heading straight at the Cruiser, all laser power to engines. The TIEs followed him, hoping to turn him into an easy target. When he was close enough to the Cruiser, he pulled up, going parallel to the ship close enough that starfighter and cruiser almost scraped hulls. Both Avengers matched his maneuvers, but he had been counting on that. Kyle angled towards a turbolaser battery that was aimed for him, and in a move of instinct, rolled out of the way as it fired. The TIE closest to him hadn’t been so lucky, taking the salvo head-on and vaporizing instantly. With no time for celebration at his near-kamikaze plan working, he looped around the cruiser once, and found himself behind the surviving Avenger. He switched to proton torpedoes, got a quick lock and fired, knocking out the craft’s shields. He then switched to lasers, following the fighter as it dived hard and started evading at random. Eventually, the TIE left him with a shot, and he took it, continuously pumping fire into the now helpless craft. In a matter of seconds, it exploded into a ball of incandescent gas.

Tourniquet kept beeping a warning, and as Kyle finally listened, he translated “Assault Gunboats inbound on the convoy.” Kyle targeted the nearest one, but realized he was still a good ways off from engaging the new threat. Blast, he thought. They’re coming from everywhere! Setting all power to engines once again, he switched over to torpedoes and linked two together, waiting to get in range of one Gunboat. When he got a lock, he fired and switched to another target, hoping that his torpedoes would be enough for the first one. “Rogue, we’ve got a Gunboat infestation in the convoy.”

“I see it Ten, but the Scythe has launched a wave of bombers. You’re on your own for now.”

Kyle sighed. “Roger that, Rogue. I’m on ‘em.” Of course I’m on my own. This is how they’re testing to see if I’m back into flying shape. He finally got in range of the second Gunboat and started to tear it apart with ease. It hardly evaded at all, making an obvious effort to take out its target at all costs. One of the remaining three Gunboats broke from its attack and started to target Kyle, but as the X-Wing pilot checked on the state of the convoy, he saw that one of the freighters had taken significant damage, with failed shields and a battered hull. Sithspit. The things I do for the good of the team are going to get me killed, but here goes nothing. He locked onto one Gunboat with his torpedoes and fired, scoring a quick direct hit and severely damaging its hull. He finished it off with lasers and moved on to his wingman. Tourniquet warned that the third Gunboat had a missile lock on their X-Wing. “I know, I know, but I can’t let them vape this convoy ship.” He pumped as many laser bursts as he could into the Gunboat, as it took the freighter’s hull integrity down to ten percent. It was a race against time to see which pilot would kill which target first, and the Gunboat was gaining speed. With one more well placed shot, Kyle sent the Gunboat slowly spinning free in space… straight for the freighter it had been attacking. “Blast! Tourniquet, cue up a targeting solution for the port wing of that dead Gunboat. We’ve gotta stop it.” Tourniquet cued up the solution, but whistled a retort. “I don’t care that we’ve got a missile on our tail.” He dumped power to engines to catch up to the still accelerating corpse of a Gunboat, got a lock and fired. He watched as the torpedo hit the Gunboat, sending it off course of its kamikaze run.

And then, his own shields dissipated, he took a torpedo to the engines, knocking his X-Wing out of commission. His screens went black. Sithspit, I’m dead. “Rogue, this is Ten. I’m out.”

“Roger that, Ten,” came Paul’s voice through the canopy. “Eject and await my post-simulation briefing, understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Kyle replied, and switched off his com. “Dang it! Still ended up shot down, and that last Gunboat probably finished off the freighter.” He hit a button to open the simulator’s canopy. Tourniquet followed behind him as he approached Paul’s simulator, and Kyle turned to the droid. “I’m sorry little buddy. I got us shot down again, and I know you were trying to warn me otherwise.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this line of work after all.” The droid remained silent. Still talkative, I see, Kyle thought sarcastically.

Rogue’s canopy finally opened and he exited, datapad in hand. “Mister Mandal, your scores were-“

“Atrocious, right?” Kyle asked, hoping to beat Paul to the punch.

“Actually, they were some of the more impressive scores we’ve had on this particular simulation,” Paul continued with a slight grin. “You took down three squints, an Avenger, and three Gunboats, but the data also shows that the second Avenger was eliminated by betrayal. When I saw that, I checked how it happened, and I must say, that was some pretty gutsy flying, boy.”

Kyle grinned slightly in recollection. “Thank you, sir. But honestly it was all I could do at that point. And how were my scores more impressive? I crashed and burned.” “You weren’t the only one,” Rogue replied. “Lock didn’t even survive the wave of TIE Interceptors, Wild Cat was eventually shot down by the TIE Avengers, and even Dee had a hard time getting back to the convoy before the Gunboats took out a couple of freighters, granted she is a bomber jockey and as such has a different tactical process than X-Wing pilots, so this scenario was different for her.” As Kyle started to grin, Rogue’s expression became more serious. “Now, we do have some issues with your flying that we still have to address.”

“Yes sir,” Kyle responded, giving the older pilot his full attention.

“First and foremost, you need to learn that you’re not expendable,” he said, putting a hand on the younger pilot’s shoulder. “Your bravery and sacrifice in taking out that last Gunboat was impressive, and some would call it amazing devotion to the mission, but keep in mind, even the great Wedge Antilles had to flee the trench run on the first Death Star when he took too much damage. Sure, we might have lost a shipment of bacta, but we need good pilots such as yourself, and they’re hard to come by. Here in Red, we try to make this place a family, and in this family, all losses are significant.” Rogue smiled slightly and patted Kyle on the shoulder. “Trust me, we won’t kill you if you have to stop a run to save your own life.”

“Roger that, Boss,” Kyle replied, managing a half smile. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

“That’s all I ask, kid. That’s all I ask.”

Chapter Five

[Hangar Bay; Frigate Regis; Coruscant Orbit; Day Eighteen – 1127 Hrs]

Kyle walked into the hangar bay of the Regis, clad in casual clothing and ready for a day planetside with Reiya. She had told him to arrive at about 1140 hours, but he’d made it early to catch a little bit of the scenery. He made his way to the hangar’s magnetic field opening and looked out at the planet ahead of him, and he was shocked by the industrialized beauty of it all. Sunlight was just now creeping over the edge of the planet, adding some light on the cityscape of Coruscant. Thousands of ships were in orbit around the planet, waiting to make port or hustling outbound on various errands. Sure, he had had the opportunity to glance at the planet through viewports several times, but to see it in its natural context, with countless stars all around, was truly a sight to behold. Amazing that such a place was once home to one of the biggest scumbag politicians of all time, he thought with a smirk.

Palpatine had done an impressive number on Coruscant when he had taken control of the Old Republic and manipulated it into his own Empire, but even Kyle had to admit that the man had everything planned out to the letter. A man who can wage a war by controlling both factions, simply to get his own way, is one heckuva mastermind. Even in his death, Palpatine’s manipulation and general evil lived on down on Coruscant. It’s amazing to think that even with all we are doing in the galaxy, that the Empire is still at large. Their “evil” is everywhere, but oddly enough, I’m left unscathed. They haven’t done anything to me directly, yet here I am sided up to fight them. Why? I have no idea. It just seemed like a place to be when Jackal challenged me. He laughed a little as another thought crossed his mind. I’m here because my dad manipulated me every bit as much as Palpatine manipulated the Old Republic.

Against Rogue’s ideas that he was indeed combat ready, Kyle had been left aboard the Regis while the rest of the squadron was off escorting in another bacta convoy that had made it’s way to Coruscant. Even though it was considered to be a blue milk run, it wasn’t worth the risk to Rob and Richard to fly a pilot who hadn’t successfully landed an X-Wing in recent history, simulation or otherwise. Can’t trust me to get it all right, Kyle thought, laughing at himself. I’ll get my chance again. Another day, another simulation, another opportunity to prove I’m not going to get myself killed.

Fortunately, this all seemed to fit straight into Reiya’s plan, as Rob had permitted Kyle to join her planetside for whatever she had in mind. So maybe not being cleared to be combat ready isn’t such a bad deal after all, Kyle thought with a grin. He continued to watch as the Regis orbited toward the bright side of the planet, it’s buildings, so far below, shimmering in the light. He placed his hand on the bulkhead to his right, feeling the durasteel under his fingers. It’s a huge galaxy out there, full of life, adventure, and for someone like me, plenty of mystery. Yet here I am, a half-decent pilot playing by the rules and ideals of a band of rebels. Just looking around, I’m still confined like I was on Rodia, the galaxy before me, beckoning me to explore it.

“Hey there flyboy,” came Reiya’s voice from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. “You awake over there?”

Kyle looked over and smiled, more than thrilled with the interruption. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just had a lot to think about recently.” He paused, literally staring out into space, focusing on nothing at all.

Reiya snapped him back into reality once again. “Well let’s see if we can’t get some of that off your mind.” She looked at him with a comforting smile, and for the moment, his worries left him. “C’mon, Gnoiz. The shuttle is going to head out in a few minutes.” Kyle just nodded, following Reiya to the shuttle’s loading ramp. They boarded and found a pair of seats to sit in for their quick hop down to the planet.

At least, that’s what Kyle had hoped it would be. As the shuttle took off, the captain began a short speech. “Good morning everyone, this is your captain speaking. It looks like we’re in for a little bit of traffic on our way to the surface, so sit back and enjoy our two-hour trip. We should be there in no time.”

“Great,” Kyle said dryly. “I’m stuck here for two hours?” He winked at Reiya. “Sounds like torture!”

[Krytos Virus Help Center; Coruscant; Day Eighteen – 1302 Hrs]

The flight down to the planet had been every bit as annoying as Kyle could have imagined. The in-flight holovid was simply a news cast on the state of the New Republic, including trials of this and politics of that, none of which Kyle cared to concern himself with. The shuttle had gotten pushed back a few times in orbital traffic before the captain managed to persuade ground control that his shuttle was carrying staff to help with the Krytos Virus and needed to land as immediately as possible. The only positive Kyle could think of was that he spent the entire time talking to Reiya, catching up on happenings in the last couple of days and swapping stories from their lives.

When the shuttle finally landed, the two of them walked down the boarding ramp and towards a large building. “Is this it?” Kyle asked, pointing at the building they were approaching.

“Yep, this is the Krytos Virus Help Center,” Reiya replied solemnly. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be here, but that she needed to be, in hopes of saving the lives of the non-human species alive on Coruscant. They walked to the front doors in silence until a guard stopped them. Without a word from the guard, Reiya produced her ID and the orders she had clearing her and Kyle to enter the building.

“Miss Velnax?” the guard asked as he looked over her ID. “Good to see you again. You’re cleared to enter, ma’am.” She continued in the door, but as Kyle tried to follow, the guard stopped him. “Mister Mandal, what is a pilot of Red Squadron doing here at a medical facility?”

Before Kyle could answer, Reiya turned around and interjected. “He’s here with me. We needed a couple of extra volunteers working down here today, so I had him cleared to come along. Don’t worry, sir. I’ll keep an eye on him.” She smiled at the guard and he waved Kyle in.

“Thanks for that,” Kyle said, pointing his thumb back towards the door. “So what kind of volunteer work will I be doing?”

Reiya walked up to the Reception Desk, signed in, and grabbed a datapad. “I’ve got to check in with the doctors in the research labs, see if we can’t make some more progress on curing this virus.” She started walking down a corridor, and Kyle followed. “Meanwhile, we’re a little shorthanded today in the morgue. We need you to help us identify those who died from the virus prior to Rogue Squadron taking over the planet, so we can notify their families.”

Kyle nodded, but his expression went sour. “Sounds like a pretty grim job to me.”

“It really is,” Reiya replied. “I will warn you, the Krytos Virus does awful things to its victims. It rips the victim apart cell by cell, eventually causing the flesh to fall apart. It is very painful, and it is truly gruesome to look at.”

Kyle nodded again, his face sinking to a frown. “That’s terrible. I can’t believe such a Virus exists.”

“Until recently, it didn’t. At least not naturally." Reiya looked down and explained. “This was engineered by the Imperials to wipe out non-Humans. This was an attempt at genocide, and I have no doubt that Iceheart was behind it.”

Kyle could hardly believe it. “Why in Corellia’s Nine Hells would she do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We’re hoping that as we learn more about this virus, we figure out what they were planning to do with it,” Reiya explained. “Fortunately, one treatment is bacta. Unfortunately, it’s too expensive to get as much as we need out of Thyferra, so we’re looking for alternate ideas, and we seem to be making some progress there.” She stopped outside a door. “Regardless, here’s your stop. I’ll be back in a few minutes or so. The mortician in there will let you know what he needs you to do.”

“Alright,” Kyle replied grimly. “I’ll see you in a bit then!” Reiya turned and left down the hall, and Kyle walked into the morgue. The initial sight of it was a shock to him, seeing hundreds of white sheets over tables, various shapes of forms under them. As he examined the walls, he noticed several stains of blood on them, as well as cracks and dents from what looked to be impact points. “It looks like a war zone in here,” he said quietly.

“To an extent, it was,” came a deep voice from right behind him. Kyle turned around, almost reaching to his blaster out of instinct, but stopped when he came face to face with the mortician. His sudden reflex overridden, he regained his thoughts. “What happened here?”

The mortician gestured broadly, indicating the entire room. “This is where the Krytos Virus was born, and were its experimental victims were kept as they were left to die.” He pointed to a crack in the wall. “The cracks on the wall that you see? They came from the victims. Their last throes of life, when their pain was enough to cause dementia, would consist of throwing themselves into walls, some with violent enough force to cause structural damage to this place.”

At a loss for words, Kyle asked the only question that came to his mind. “What do you need me to do?”

After giving him a quizzical look, the mortician’s eyes went wide in a sudden realization. “Oh, yes! You’re the help they sent in for today. I’m Dr. Lively, the mortician here.” He held out his hand for Kyle to shake.

“That’s kind of ironic, Dr. Lively,” Kyle said wryly as he shook the mortician’s hand. “I’m Flight Officer Kyle Mandal of Red Squadron. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” The older man looked down at a datapad, then started walking into the midst of the dead bodies. “If you would, follow me.” Kyle complied with orders, falling in step behind the mortician. “I need you to help me identify this section of bodies. The Krytos Virus does a number in the looks of patients, but the DNA stays in tact, and those who lived locally can be identified by that DNA. The rest tend to have some form of identification on their person, either a pilot’s license or a card identifying them as an experiment. If you find any ways of identifying the person, scan it in on this datapad.” He held Kyle a datapad, and the pilot took it. “If you can’t find anything, call me over and we’ll do a DNA scan. That work for you?”

Kyle nodded, accepting the weight of his responsibility. “That works for me, Dr. Lively. I’ll see what I can do.” As the mortician turned away to identify the dead in another section of the room, Kyle pulled the sheet off of the victim nearest to him. At one time, this victim had been a Twi’lek, but the damage the Krytos Virus had done to its body distorted the face so much, the only way to tell was by the gelatinized lekku protruding from the head. Kyle found an ID tag around the victim’s neck, pulled it off, and scanned it into his datapad. A screen pulled up a record with Imperial Insignias around it, classifying this victim with some number, but also revealing the name Bidno’tru. The scan automatically added his name to the list of victims.

As Kyle moved from patient to patient, he witnessed several species distorted in ways he had never thought possible. The Mon Calamari and Quarren victims were the hardest to identify, having been reduced to a sack of liquidized remains with ID tags swallowed by the remaining bits of skin. It’s a horrible death for anyone to die: no weapons, no time, no fight. Simply infected and left for dead. There is no honor in this kind of killing, Kyle thought, looking at his victims as he identified them. Even in their heyday, Mandalorians fought with honor, not like this. The Imperials are cowards, albeit rich ones with expensive tastes in mass destruction.

A few victims later, Kyle pulled a sheet off of a figure that appeared to be Sullustan, but as he looked for an Imperial ID tag, he could not find one. As he searched the victim’s clothes for any form of identification, he stumbled upon what appeared to be a pilot’s license. He grabbed it and turned it over and read the name. He took another look at the victim, then read the name on the license again, then at the picture of the victim. “No, that can’t be right,” Kyle said aloud in disbelief, his heart racing a little. He read the name one more time: Snenm Nyarb. That can’t be. I saw him alive just two months ago. Kyle’s hands shook out of fury and sadness, and he stared at the body in front of him in shock. He could not bring himself to add this Sullustan’s name to the list.

“What can’t be right?” the mortician asked, urgently rushing to Kyle’s side. “I… I…” Kyle uttered, attempting to speak, but unable to form words. He swallowed once, and took in a large breath, attempting to hold himself together. “I knew this Sullustan. He’s been a family friend for a long time, and took me under his wing for a while recently. I worked for him up until about six months ago. I can’t believe it. We talked over holochat just two months ago. He was alive, and trading. He said that he was…” Kyle stopped himself, coming to a realization that this nightmare had actually happening. “He was heading Coreword, had some business to attend to here, on Coruscant. He’s… gone now.” Those Imperial scum. They killed him. They killed Snemn. As he let his fury build up, though, realizations stacked on top of each other. They killed all of these people. They destroyed Alderaan. They’ve taken the lives of countless beings across the galaxy, and continue to do so. No matter what, the Empire, in all of its evil, prevails.

The mortician placed his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that, kid.” Kyle instinctively pulled away. “I’ll hold up. It’s been pretty consistent in my life.” He looked down the row, seeing that he only had a few patients to go. He went back to work, scanning in identification tags as he went along. Kyle’s hands functioned without any thought, his mind lost somewhere else. He was finished within what seemed to him like seconds, but in actuality was about ten minutes. He started walking out of the morgue as Reiya walked in.

“Hey Gnoiz, how did it go?” she asked, taking note of his lack of expression.

“It wasn’t all too hard,” Kyle replied honestly. “And thank you for bringing me down here. It’s helping me put everything that’s been on my mind into perspective.”

“That’s good to hear,” Reiya said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re starting to get things all figured out.”

He typed Snemn’s name in on his datapad, entered it into the system, and set the datapad down on a desk near the door. “Yeah,” he said with no real inflection whatsoever. “Me too.”

Epilogue

[Cabin Seven; Frigate Regis; Coruscant Orbit; Day Nineteen – 0440 Hours]

“To Whom It May Concern,

Due to recent events, it has become obvious that this line of work is not something I am cut out for. I have recently been more of a hindrance than a help to this squadron, and feel that I may best serve in a different role within the New Republic, or on my own. Therefore, I hereby state my resignation from Red Squadron. It has truly been an honor serving with you all, and I wish you all the best of luck throughout your careers.

-Kyle ‘Gnoizic’ Mandal”

Kyle read his resignation letter over for the third time, making sure it sounded true enough for submission. His mind had finally been made up: it was time to leave Red Squadron behind, avoiding the endless wrath of the Imperial war machine. It seemed logical to him. The Empire in its entirety would surely take decades, maybe even a century or two to fully eradicate, and at the moment, fighting to destroy it led to no path other than death for Kyle. I’ve got to watch out for myself for now, Kyle rationalized. And for now, that means getting the heck out of here.

[You’re a coward, you know that?] came the voice of an astromech droid behind him. [Not that you can truly understand what I’m saying, but you might at least catch a hint of disappointment from my voice.]

Kyle turned and looked at Tourniquet, who had rolled up behind him. “You’d be surprised what all I can understand.” Knowing that he had probably just baffled the droid, he continued by speaking in the chirps and whistles of astromech droid speech. [How am I a coward? Doesn’t this qualify as being realistic? Fighting the Empire head-on for life is a life devoted to suicide.]

Tourniquet shook his dome from side to side, gesturing a “no” or disproval. [It’s impressive that you can speak in my language. Most pilots don’t take the time to even figure out what astromechs are saying. Regardless, yes, it may sound like suicide and may very well take your life some day, but keep in mind, many Rebels have died for this cause.]

[And more die daily. Am I to resign myself to death as one of them, then? Living to die? That’s suicide.] Kyle stared at the droid he’d been paired with for space combat, almost at a point of disgust. This droid puts little value in my life, of course he won’t care whether I live or die.

[Clearly you don’t understand the meaning of sacrifice.] Tourniquet remarked rather bluntly, stinging Kyle’s raised emotions. [It’s giving up what you love for the benefit of another. All pilots and soldiers have value in their own lives, but they are willing to sacrifice them for a greater cause. They put their lives on the line for family, for friends, for honor, or for some, a challenge.]

[Okay, you have your point that I don’t know sacrifice, but what about you? What have you sacrificed?]

Tourniquet simply turned his domed head and activated his hologram projector. The hologram shaped into the form of a young man in his twenties. “Tourniquet, you and I have been through a lot together. We’ve fought countless missions against the Empire in space combat, and had quite a few successful runs on the ground. If it were the best decision for me, I’d be a fighter pilot ‘til I die. But that isn’t the case anymore. I’ve accepted a transfer into a commando unit, once again taking on my personal specialty of ground-based Special Operations. By the time you wake up and have your restraining bolt removed, I’ll be half the galaxy away.” The figure shook his head. “I’m sorry that I have to do it this way little buddy, but if I left you activated, I have no doubt that you’d find a way to follow me to my next assignment, and I wish like Hell that you could, but I need you to stay here, with the Squadron. I may want you around, but I know another pilot is going to come along who needs you even more.” He smiled, shaking his head as he laughed. “You’re a well put together little droid, and my best friend. The Alliance could still use your unique skills for repair work. I’ve got to go, Tourniquet. Take care, alright? I’ll see you around if we’re ever in a combined operation with Red Squadron.” And with that, the transmission cut out.

[I sacrificed being stubborn and finding my old master to follow his last wish, his own sacrifice, of leaving me here for another pilot. I could be a complete snob to you, but I choose to go along with it all. This fight is mine too.] Tourniquet stared down his pilot, and if a droid could show emotion, Kyle had no doubt that the droid would be showing a bit of impatience with his pilot, as well as a sense of pride in his will to stay true to his beliefs.

[That’s heavy.] was all Kyle could manage to reply with at first. [I’m very sorry your pilot left without you, Tourniquet. But what can I do? The Empire is so big, and I feel like I can’t make a difference. And I don’t even know what I’m fighting for, or if I’m fighting for anything.].

[Kid, just remember, a farm boy from Tatooine shot down the first Death Star. An old enemy turned from his ways and killed the Emperor. One person can make a difference. Not all of the differences made are going to be noticed on the battlefield, but you’re a good pilot, and as far as I can tell, a capable friend who’s fun to be around. That’s where you can make an impact on this Squadron. As for what you’re fighting for, what did you see today?]

Kyle was taken aback at the droid’s question. [I saw death, and destruction. I saw the might and cowardice of the Empire as it attacked non-Humans. It was an awful sight to behold.]

Tourniquet was hardly convinced, and heaved the droid equivalent of a sigh. [The look on your face was more than just merely viewing those who had died. When you came back here, you appeared dead yourself, as if you had seen a ghost. This affected you on another level, why?]

I’m getting a psychological analysis from a droid, Kyle thought to himself with a minor smirk. Maybe I am out of my mind. He tried his best to muster up the answer the droid was waiting to hear. Finally, he managed to piece together his thoughts. [When I went down there to the morgue, I saw the remains of someone I’ve known most of my life. I saw what the Empire did to him, and others like him, and it tore me apart. His skin was so distorted I could hardly identify him as a Sullustan, much less someone I had known before. The Empire did this. And I hate them for it.]

The droid tilted his torso slightly, in the droid equivalent of an understanding nod. [Then you have found your reason to fight. You may not have been able to save your friend, but you can fight to prevent others around the galaxy from losing their loved ones in a similar way.]

Kyle turned his head to stare at his resignation letter typed up on his datapad once again. He’s got a point. But am I even up to this? He sat in quiet reflection, looking around the cabin in silence, and after seeing his Mandalorian pistol that his father had given him lying on his bunk, he looked over to the back corner of the room. He stood up, made his way to his temporary locker and typed in the code to open it. As he looked in, he saw the red suit of Mandalorian armor staring back at him, with its intimidating T-shaped visor. [Tourniquet, you’re right. I am a warrior by blood, and I can fight to the ends of the galaxy if need be. My father told me that Mandalorians keep a strict code of honor, and that I could learn some aspects of honor by fighting alongside others with similar beliefs. For now, that place might just be here.]

[It’s your choice, kid.] Tourniquet tootled. [I just hope that whatever you choose, it’s the right choice not only for you, but everyone around you.]

Kyle let the truth of the beeps and whistles of the astromech droid sink in. He could stay and fight with Red Squadron, potentially forming bonds with other pilots and hopefully making a difference within the Squadron in some way. Or he could leave, abandon those he flew with in hopes of them finding a better, more dedicated pilot, while allowing him to roam the galaxy in search of answers to questions about his heritage.

Kyle’s thoughts were interrupted as the door started to slide open. Kyle quickly closed his locker and looked towards his intruder. “Hey Gnoiz,” David said waving, obviously a little tired. “Good to see you’re still up. A few of us are having trouble sleeping with Pip’s funeral being in the morning, so we’re all at the Mug swapping stories from times past. Someone mentioned that you had quite the story to tell, so I figured I’d ask if you’d socialize with us over a few drinks. Care to join?”

Kyle looked down at his datapad he’d been carrying and shook his head with a smile. What am I thinking? “Yeah, I’m up for a story or two, just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll head on down there.”

“Suit yourself Gnoiz, we’ll be waiting for you,” David remarked as he waved a quick goodbye.

As the door slid shut, Kyle walked over to a desk in the room and placed his datapad on it. He scanned it one last time for any mistakes, shook his head again, and hit the “Delete” button. “Well, Tourniquet, it looks like you’re going to have to deal with this crazy pilot a bit longer. For now, this place is home, and I’m staying. Come on, let’s see what all is going on at the Mug.”

The End