by Steve "Schmitty" Michadick, Sean "Leo" Healey, Chelsey "Vape" Maxfield, Jamie "Shadow" Wetherill, Bill "Arc" Doellefeld, Josh "Viper" McBride, and Jason "Jace" Carrillo

There he was, walking across the courtyard - Baron Soontir Fel, the second most famous pilot in the Empire after Darth Vader. Newly arrived to the Academy’s hangar deck, the baron had received communication to report directly to Dean Filander's office. The man had not bothered to change out of his flight suit, the same jet-black standard issue that all Imperial pilots wore, save a special patch on the upper arm. It was the patch for his squadron, the 181st, feared throughout the galaxy for their lethal talent. Many Rebel pilots had died at their hands and that was the way Fel liked it.

Weeks earlier, the baron had accepted an invitation to return to the Caridan Academy and help train the Empire's newest pilots. Fel had been there last as a student. Having performed exceptionally well, the then-young man had caught the eye of many important people. That kind of recognition, he had learned, could take a person far in the Empire, and he did. Had he so desired, Fel knew he could have easily been a Grand Moff by now…perhaps even a Grand Admiral.

However, Soontir's love was flying starfighters. He savored the adrenaline rush that overcame him in combat. His position afforded him front row seats in the Empire’s defense, though many of his peers never lived long enough to appreciate that. Fel had learned that that love is part of what had kept him alive, and he wanted to pass that on to the next generation. So, he had accepted the invitation.

Filander’s communiqué had outlined Fel’s schedule on Carida: a few lectures, question & answer sessions, and training flights for a few select cadets. There was no sense in wasting his time with those who would bottom out of the training anyway. His time was much too important for that. Regardless, nothing was more vital than teaching these kids how to stay alive in the cockpit.

His most recent training session had not fared well. Tinra Koval, another promising cadet, had attempted to defect to the Rebellion, a trend growing with alarming rapidity within the Empire’s ranks. During their sparring session, she had managed to surprise him and that alone merited admiration. Still, he would have easily destroyed her had his weapons not been powered down for the exercise. Fel had felt a slight pang of regret for having to shoot her down, keeping her from reaching her Rebel friends. Duty had overridden other sensibilities, however, and now she was floating in the vacuum of space, along with one of her fellow Rebels. With that, he had vectored towards Carida - no doubt they would send a SAR shuttle up to retrieve her for…questioning…but that was none of his business. His job was done here, and Baron Fel was anxious to return to his unit. Just one stop was left, and Fel soon found himself before the threshold to Dean Filander’s office.

"Come in," Filander ordered, beckoning to Fel behind his desk.

The aging dean had watched Fel walk across the courtyard towards his office just a moment ago. For all appearances, the dean was still a cold, calculating man. He would find out what had occurred up there and plan accordingly. Without doubt, Madame Director would hear about the incident and demand answers, but he would be ready for her.

Filander reflected back on Iceheart’s days at the Academy. Her piloting skills had left much to be desired, and he had been forced to disqualify her for flight training. All the better, for she had followed in her father's footsteps: graduating at the top of her class in Intel and entering the Imperial Security Bureau, where she climbed very quickly. Now, she was at the top of her game, having replaced her father as Director of Imperial Intelligence. After Palpatine’s untimely death at Endor, the Grand Vizier Sate Pestage had claimed the throne. If there were one thing Filander was sure of, it would not be long before Ysanne Isard, the Iceheart of Imperial Intelligence, held that seat as her own.

"Soontir, you did well up there. Thank you for not killing our only source of information. She’ll be retrieved and brought back for," he cleared his throat, "questioning."

Isard would not have been pleased if her "project" had been destroyed without her approval. Oh yes. He had been aware of Isard's brainwashing captured Rebels, turning them into malleable puppets at her disposal. If those Rebels had been foolish enough to come to Carida to retrieve her, then she must be valuable indeed. Grem intended to see that her value, whatever it may be, would benefit the Empire instead.

"Thank you, Director," Fel responded. "As she was my last cadet to train, I would now like to–" His words were cut off as one of the hangar control room officers interrupted over Filander's comm.

"Director Filander, I must report that our SAR shuttle has just entered hyperspace! Sir, the craft’s exit vector was similar to the Rebel shuttle’s!" The control room officer’s breathing was heavy; clearly, he had been dashing about in a mad attempt to piece this situation together.

Calmly, the dean’s lanky frame moved to his desk and depressed the button that allowed him to reply. "Do you know how this happened?” he responded without a hint of agitation in his voice.

"Not yet, sir."

"Report to me as soon as you do." He paused before continuing. "In the mean time, take an inventory of your personnel. I suspect that shuttle had an extra crewmember on board." Again, he paused. "Also, contact the cadet dormitory administrator and have him take a head count there as well. I want the name of the responsible party on my desk by morning."

"Yes, sir!"

Filander turned to face the window again. So, the Rebels had more than one agent here, he thought to himself. And we got one of their pilots thanks to the Baron's piloting skills. What can we expect from them now? What would I do? Attack. Yes. To win this war the Rebels are going to have to cut our supply lines, and this academy is as vital a line as any. I will have to fortify this school better. He turned to face Baron Fel, waiting on the other side of the dean’s desk.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Soontir, but in light of recent events, I am going to have to ask you to stay a little longer. My cadets will need your training and experience impressed upon them. I will need them to be ready for an imminent attack from those Rebels. You are the only one that I know of that can ensure that in short order. I can get you anything you need to get those cadets ready. What will you require?"

As soon as he had heard the report, Fel had known this was coming. He wanted to get back to his wife and his unit, but duty came first. “I will need two of my people from the 181st brought here. They will assist me in training. Give us six weeks with twelve of your most promising cadets and they'll be ready for the Rebels. They, in turn, can pass on what we teach them to their peers, and then you should have a decent defense here."

"Very well. I'll see that your men are here tomorrow to begin the training. I don't think we have much time. Now, I must ensure that we establish sufficient ground defenses. You are dismissed."

The following morning, Dean Filander sat at his desk reading over the report he had requested. The accomplice in Koval’s escape was Jaxton Ogton, another other the cadets. Witnesses had pinpointed him in the hangar complex shortly before the SAR shuttle took off.

Suddenly and without warning, a hologram materialized on his desk. The figure on the other end of the HoloNet transmission was attractive and lean. Her uniform was standard issue for all Imperial officers, excepting its blood red hue. The dean silently wondered what had motivated her to choose that color. Though several years older, Ysanne Isard looked the much as she did when she had attended the Academy. Her most striking feature was still her eyes: one a fiery red, the other an icy blue. Even gazing at them over the HoloNet gave Filander’s aging frame chills.

"Yes, Madame Director, what may I do for you?" he offered.

"Dean Filander. It has been quite some time since I have had any contact from you. How are matters at the Academy?" The corners of her mouth tugged up in a slight smile, and her voice the matched the warmth of her icy stare - just one reason why, in some circles, she was known as Iceheart.

Yes, just as I suspected…she knows, Filander thought to himself. Iceheart was already aware of the Koval incident, he knew, if her smirk told him anything. Very well, I'll play your game. He replied in a flat voice. "Well, as I am sure you are aware, Madam Director, we have had a bit of a problem here with two of our cadets."

"Certainly, Dean Filander, you were able to handle the situation?" It was more of a statement then a question, Filander knew. She was trying to make him feel inadequate, as usual. She used sarcasm that way and he knew it.

How dare you think that I have survived for as long as I have in the Empire without knowing how to handle people like you, he thought.

Filander did not esteem himself power hungry like Isard, however. No. He would much rather retain his position at the Academy than grope madly for power as so many others were doing since the vacuum created by Endor. He would do his part to ensure that debacle never occurred again. Isard seemed to be a good leader, one that he could support. Ruthless and cunning, she was just what the Empire needed now. So, he would go along with this charade. He would let her think that he was her puppet, if it served the Empire's goals.

"Why of course," he answered. He gave her a slight grin as he bowed his head.

"Very good. I do, however, understand that my project has escaped. That is a minor setback. I have other plans for Red Squadron, and other thorns in our side to remove. I will see to it that Red Squadron is provoked into attacking the academy. When they come – and they will come," she assured him, "I want you to put up a believable fight, but I want you to let them think that they have succeeded. I want them to be in high spirits just before I crush them."

Filander was glad that he had foreseen this as well. Red Squadron would come back here, and he would be ready for them. "As you request. I have already taken steps to prepare the Academy for an assault. We will be ready for them." He paused. "If I may be so bold, Madame Director, what plans do you have for Red Squadron?"

"I have monitoring a certain Moff that just might suit my purpose. Have you made an acquaintance of Clovis Lemmor?"

Filander shook his head.

"Well, he is making his bid for rule out in the Tunis system. He will be instrumental in the downfall of Red Squadron." She then looked to her right, obviously giving attention to someone in her office on Imperial Center. After a moment she turned back to Filander. “Report to me as soon as Red Squadron is dealt with,” and then signed off.

Now Grem Filander had work to do.

[FRG Regis, Zoom's Office]

"Yes, sir. That’s why I'm here today. I just need some time to get away and try to deal with all of this," Steve “Schmitty” Michadick said, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

"Lieutenant, losing people in your command is part of the package. I know they taught you that in officer training. It's never easy and you never get used it. Believe me. But, I can understand if you need some R&R."

Kelly “Zoom” St. Clair, Red Squadron’s commanding officer, had figured Schmitty would have some difficulty dealing with the loss of Hijack. They all were. No matter how old a person was, the loss of a comrade always begot adverse effects.

"So," he paused, "where do you plan on going?"

Steve was quiet for a moment. His head felt heavy on his shoulders, and his heart had sunk into some deep recess within his chest. He felt much as he did when he had discovered his brother and parents had died. Slowly, he met the eyes of his commander.

"Um…I think I'm going to head for Ithor. There's a shuttle making a supply run for the galley and I’ve made arrangements with the pilot. He doesn't mind me tagging along for the ride. From there I should be able to get a lift back to one of our bases and eventually make it back here…say…in about two weeks?"

"Is two weeks going to be enough?" Zoom asked sincerely.

"I think so. I just need to get away from all of this durosteel and all."

"Ok, I’m granting your request. I expect a refreshed officer back in two weeks," he said with a smile. Kelly wanted to say more to the man, but he knew better. This was not the time. He made a note to himself to talk to Steve upon his return from leave. But for now… "Ok, how about we head to the Mug? I understand a shuttle just came in and the occupants headed that way. Let's go meet our guests."

Feeling a little better, Schmitty rose with his commander and headed for the officers’ mess. In a day he would be off, away from the war and the death, even if only for a while.

Chapter 1: Choices

[Somewhere in the Outer Rim]

"One, Five."

"Five, you have channel."

"Three-two-zebra-niner, One."

"Copy that Five, Three-two-zebra-niner on mark three."

"Two copies, One."

"Three copies, One."

"Four copies, One."

"Five copies, One."

"Three… two… one… mark."

Lieutenant Yash Nruben sat at his station aboard the CRS Independence, a cup of caf in his hand and his feet propped upon the table. Not much was happening today…nothing interesting anyway. The Independence had not even detected freighter traffic on the sensor board. Swirling his cup, the sensor officer realized his caf was almost out, so he rose to pour another mug.

Then his station alarm went off.

Flopping back into his seat, Yash looked alarmed as he saw five new contacts appear out of nowhere. They hadn't come out of hyperspace…they were already within Independence's fly-space. This was definitely not routine.

"Admiral!" he called to Admiral Ackbar, aboard his flagship for the time being. Ackbar turned to the young officer with interest. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Admiral, I have five contacts on vector three-two-zero…Admiral, they came out of nowhere; station perimeter didn't pick them up, sir!"

Ackbar turned his gaze spaceward. Clasping his webbed hands behind his back, he sighed with a longing he hadn't realized he had. He knew who these contacts were, as most of the High Command did. Even Ackbar, however, had only met them twice in his life. What in the Force where they doing showing up on the Independence's doorstep like this?

"Lieutenant, signal the private shuttle hangar crew to prepare for arrivals, then clear the deck. Inform security personnel to close off all access to that hangar bay and tell them I'm on my way."

"But, Admiral…"

"Do as you are ordered, Lieutenant!"

"Sir, yes, sir."

As Ackbar stood alone in the private hangar bay, he felt a twinge of anxiety. It was an emotion he rarely felt, not so much from fear as from curiosity. The inbound flight had not been heard from since before Endor, rumored to be dead. Though this was mere hearsay, the individuals serving in this unit possessed nothing short of mythical status in the Alliance.

Then, they came, all five of them. Their X-wings, which bore no identifying markings or color scheme, were almost unrecognizable due to heavy modifications. They hardly looked like Incom's T-65B anymore. One of them did, however, have something peculiar scratched into the side of its fuselage…hundreds of small X’s. They covered the craft from the nosecone to cockpit. Ackbar knew what they stood for, and it just made him that much more uneasy.

The mysterious craft touched down as one, almost silently. Ackbar guessed they had modified their ships to run more quietly. With hardly any "popping" sound, the cockpits unsealed and five figures climbed silently out.

Dressed in black flightsuits adorned only with dark gray striping down the sleeves and pants legs, these men nearly reminded Ackbar of Imperial pilots. The foremost pilot removed his helmet, revealing a man in his mid-to-late-twenties with dark hair matching the color of his eyes. There was a depth to his stare that unnerved the Mon Calamari admiral. The pilot smartly saluted, waiting for Ackbar to return the gesture before releasing it. As the man had yet to say a word, Ackbar supposed he would have to make the first move.

"Commander, as always, an unexpected pleasure."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"What is it you bring to me this time?"

"Actually, I'm here to see one of your trainees, Admiral."

Ackbar was stunned. These five never came to him with anything less than life-saving intelligence for the Alliance…now they were here to see a trainee? It didn't make any sense, though little of their activities did. What could they possibly want from a green pilot?

"May I ask who, Commander?"

"A Cadet Courtner, whom they call 'Angel.'"

Ackbar was only partially familiar with that name. She had come aboard the Independence for training shortly before Endor, and then was transferred to a safer location prior to the engagement. Now she was back…but reports stated she was dropping out. Suddenly, Ackbar lost all interest in what these people wanted with her.

"You probably know where she is better than I do, Commander. I'll inform security to close off the path to her quarters."

The dark-haired pilot merely nodded and walked back to his X-wing, as did the others. Once there, he had his craft’s astromech droid removed from his slot behind the cockpit and lowered to the ground.

"Oh, and Admiral," he began as Ackbar turned around. "I'll need an astromech for a short time. I will return it in seventy-two hours." Ackbar only nodded and proceeded to exit the hangar. He did not wish to be around those five any longer than he had to. Under any other circumstance, it would have taken a good deal of red tape-cutting just to let a pilot walk out of the hangar with a droid, let alone leave the ship with it, but Ackbar didn't bother following procedure here. They had probably already done that themselves.

Outside, the stars were bright and hopeful. Inside, a young girl sat mourning, looking into the twinkling tapestry for answers. A holo sat on her footlocker, which she picked up, running her fingers along the image of a man she hardly knew, but loved with all her heart.

Her father, her real father, had died at Endor barely four months earlier. Sven Courtner had died fighting for the belief that someday there would be a brighter galaxy for his daughter to grow up in. Jeni "Angel" Courtner had grown up thinking Noral Hilton, a weapons smuggler and despicable character all-around, was her father. She still had nightmares of the times she had been forced to spend with his business "clients" for the sake of profit.

Then, with a little help, she had found her real father. In the short time Jeni had known him, Sven had become more of a father to her than Noral ever was. It was because of Sven that Jeni had decided to become a pilot. Sven had imbued the Alliance’s ideals within her, and she wanted to follow in his footsteps.

Now she would never do that. She had tried…it was just too much to continue her studies without him alive to guide her. Angel turned to look at a datapad, the one holding her resignation form, sitting on her bunk. Where will I go now? What will I do, she thought. It did not seem to matter anymore. I could always go back to…wait, what’s going on?

A flurry of movement caught the young woman’s attention. Outside her quarters, security personnel were scrambling down the hallway. She caught the sounds of friends and crewmen alike being forced from area. Somehow, her room was escaping their attention…at least it seemed to be. Then all was silent from without. Moments later, she heard the gentle rap of boots against grating and a long shadow appeared outside her door. Before she knew it, a young man was standing there, his face hidden in shadow. Putting the holo down, Angel backed away, suddenly very afraid.

"Who–who are you?"

"So," the man said in a relaxed tone, "you're just giving up then?"

"What?"

The man entered, followed by a pearly white and silver R2 unit. The door shut behind them and the lights came on dimly. As the mysterious figure approached her bunk, Angel curled up protectively at one corner, her knees drawn to her chin. He noticed her behavior and waved a hand reassuringly.

"You have no need to be frightened of me, Jeni."

"How do you know my name?"

The man picked up the holo of Jeni’s father, studying it for a time. "I knew your father, he was a good man." Slowly, the young woman’s fear faded as her interest piqued. Rising to her knees, she snatched the holo from his hands, clutching it tightly against her chest.

"You knew him?” she asked.

"Yes."

Her frown subsided as she looked down at the holo again.

"Do you think that quitting is the best to honor him?" the man continued.

Angel's head snapped up instantly, her eyes ablaze. It took all her wits to retrain the urge to throttle the stranger for saying such things. How dare he, she thought. What does he know about father, or me! I don’t even know who I am.

"What do you know anyway?” she countered. “You walk in here with no introduction, the guards outside are acting creepy, and you have this problem with me, and I don't even know you. I have every mind to tell you to get out!" The stranger only smiled.

"I'm the one who found your father for you. Avaro? He is a dear friend of mine, back when I was slicing on N'pahl. He asked me to find out who you were and so I did. I discovered your father’s identity and then led you to him."

Jeni found herself shaking. This story was not making any sense to her; surely this strange man was lying. Yet, somehow, Angel knew she should believe him. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he had told her, maybe she had known all along, deep down. She slumped down on her bunk, clutching the holo tightly once more.

"Your father wished you to have these when he died,” the stranger said.

He slowly rose, pulling something from his breastpocket and took her hand, gently pressing a pair of flight wings into it. Angel simply stared at her palm, finally looking up at the young man in wonderment. She was speechless.

"He had hoped to pin them on you himself, but fate wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to see you fly, so he figured those might help you find your wings."

Tears welled in the young woman’s eyes as she grasped the wings in her hand tightly, the metal firmly poking at her palm. This encounter had left her emotionally upended. Perhaps…perhaps quitting wasn't the best idea after all, she thought to herself.

Then the R2 unit began bumping the bed, twittering madly. Angel looked up, her eyes wide. "Tone! Oh my…how did…I thought…why is…"

"Tone survived ejection and, after repairs, become flight worthy once more. Your father figured you'd need a co-pilot…and the little guy seems to be taken with you anyway."

Angel cautiously crept off the bunk and knelt beside Tone, who began emitting low, soothing tones when she placed a hand on his dome. Jeni smiled, laid her head on the droid’s "shoulder" and sighed. Her eyes closed, and the young pilot began recalling all the test flights the small astromech had accompanied her on. Before Angel had entered flight school, she had been a decent mechanic aboard the Independence. Now, her favorite mechanical companion was with her once more. She sighed again in contentment.

When the young woman looked up to address the mysterious pilot, she found him gone from her quarters. Outside, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and personnel began milling through the corridor once more. Deciding the stranger's identity was better left secret, Jeni retrieved her datapad and deleted the resignation letter.

[The planet Ithor]

Steve’s temporary leave was nearing its end over the lush jungle world of Ithor. Soon, he would be returning to the Regis – back to the war and the losses of both friends and family. Family. The word still panged the man. It had been years since he had lost his parents and brother. His time in the Alliance had provided him a new home and family in Red Squadron. Steve had pondered what that meant in a bar for much of the last two weeks. He had never really considered just how close to his squadmates he had become; not until Luke “Hijack” Kneller had been lost above Carida anyhow. Blood relations or not, losing family still hurt.

Michadick’s bond had grown strong with young Kneller as they prepared for the dangerous mission to the Imperial Academy. Though Luke was barely half Steve’s age, the older man had come to regard the young pilot as a brother. Not that anyone would ever replace his real brother. There it was again. His real brother, Mike, had been lost many years ago to the Empire. Lately, Steve had been thinking about Mike more often. Just then, he was able to discern why. Today would have been his brother's birthday. He took his glass, studying the liquid before taking another swallow, and then regarded the bar’s several gaming tables, where several other patrons sat. Michadick had found release from his pain in alcohol and gambling. Even if the effect was no lasting, it got his mind off family, if only for a little while.

Taking another swig of his concoction, Steve leaned back in his seat, a comfortable spot near the rear of the establishment. One light hung above the groggy man’s table, offering just enough illumination to study his own hand grasping his mug. Soon he would feel good enough to join the nearest sabacc game, hopefully winning just enough to buy the next round of drinks. His luck seemed to increase the more drunk he became. Michadick regarded the relative isolation of his seat in the bar; somewhat reveling in the sense of loneliness it afforded him. Here, on Ithor, he was alone again…all alone. The longer his solitude endured, the more Steve found himself wanting to keep it that way. At least then, he would not have to worry about losing anyone else. He just did not think he could handle it anymore.

Steve’s mug struck the table with dull clunk as an Ithorian priest sat down across from him. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to turn off his translator, and was able to understand the priest as the being began to speak.

"So, tell me," the priest said softly, "why do you drink and gamble as if there were no tomorrow?"

The human pilot could hardly regard the clergyman through his blurred vision – at least the alcohol was starting to kick in – and so he remained silent.

"I've noticed you here almost everyday for the last two weeks and it's always the same. You sit back here alone and drink until you can muster the confidence to join a sabacc game. Oh, you always do quite well, but I see the pain in you. Almost anyone could. Are you willing to open your heart to someone?"

"Well, preacher, if you must know…I've lost my whole family and everyone I care for continues to die all around me. I don't think I can handle going on alone anymore.” Steve squinted as he tried to make eye contact with the Ithorian. Maybe he'll be able to help, he thought. Maybe that's why I came here in the first place.

The Ithorian held Michadick’s gaze for a long moment. "I see." There was another long pause. "Yes, death is difficult to deal with. That is true. But you were given a great gift…the gift of life! You should be rejoicing! The Creator did not make you to wallow in sadness and fear."

"The Creator?"

"Ah, you don't the Creator, do you? Some call him by name: Y'shua."

Steve lowered his eyes and shook his head noncommittally.

"That being the case, it is a blessing the Creator led me to you. But first, I must ask…do you wish to learn of Y'shua?"

"Umm, sure. Why not?" Steve replied in a flat voice. "But don't think I'm gonna convert and become monk, or something. I'm not into that stuff."

The priest made what must have been an Ithorian’s version of a chuckle. "Oh, that is not required. All I ask is that you read this book with an open heart."

The priest then produced a small, plain-looking, black book from within his tunic. Despite its worn appearance, Steve immediately noticed the priest’s special care, even reverence, in handling it. The Ithorian slowly held out the tome to the pilot, waiting for the human man to accept it. Steve took it, quickly flipping through the delicate pages. It had been a long time since he had seen a book. In this day and age, almost all information was stored digitally, as datapads proved to be more durable and convenient than printed volumes.

Michadick studied the cover of the book once more, noting it had no title. "What's it called?"

"It is The Word," the priest replied.

"Yeah, well, I'm not much into reading, so I don't know if I'll ever get around to it." Steve said dismissively.

The priest simply rose from the table. Apparently he had been satisfied with the encounter. "I know. But I promise you that if you do, you may become a new man, if you choose to. It's a choice you must make. A choice between life and death."

With that the priest turned and exited the bar.

Steve turned the book over in his hands a few times, and then shoved it into his pocket. If anything, this thing'll be worth some creds to someone, he thought to himself. Noticing a few sips left in his mug, he quickly downed the rest of his drink, slammed the empty cup on his table, and stumbled to his feet. Last day, better make the most of it, he thought as he made his way over to the nearest sabacc table.

Chapter 2: Homeroom

Kelly “Zoom” St. Clair had done a good deal of thinking at his desk over the past few months. Schmitty and Hijack had embarked on a perilous mission into the Empire’s backyard, and only Schmitty had survived it, and barely at that. The older pilot, nearly Kelly’s age, had been quite hard on himself before Zoom had granted him a short leave of absence. Having been in Michadick’s position only weeks before, Kelly could certainly empathize. At least he had been lucky, now that Chelsey “Vape” Maxfield had returned safely to the Regis.

On a brighter note, the rest of his unit was in good shape. Recent recruits had nearly filled Red Squadron to capacity, which would make it that much more effective in the battlefield. Zoom reminded himself that he would have to talk to Pappy about the squadron fighters’ maintenance schedule.

Zoom was jolted out of a daze by a knock on his door. He looked about the room suspiciously. Someone always seemed to know when he was going to nod off for a bit. He quickly brushed aside the sense of paranoia, rising from his seat and quickly making for the door. Then, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a slight smile. Turning his head away from the door and doing his best to make his voice sound distant, he yelled, "Come in!"

The doors slid open, admitting Neill “Ranger” Magill, Red Squadron’s executive officer. Without warning, Kelly jumped out into his XO’s path. Ranger nearly jumped out of his boots, stepping back hurriedly to avoid colliding with the prankster. Surprise was clearly evident on his slightly flushed face. Zoom spent several moments chuckling at the younger pilot’s expense. He had finally given someone else a good scare. Kelly hardly managed to remove the mischievous grin from his face before asking Ranger if he had anything to say.

"I'll say I do! Did you want to get run over or something, sir?"

Zoom smiled broadly once more. Ranger, knowing he had been had, smiled in return. "Sir, I am happy to report a new arrival, just in today. Flight Cadet Mike Barros, though he goes by Lonewolf. Another Outer Rim farmboy wishing to join the Alliance after Endor, it seems. Here's his file. I'll begin working with him tomorrow, after he settles in. Additionally, another pilot, recently flown in with our supply shuttle, would like the chance to speak with you. From what I gather, he is requesting to be accepted combat ready into Red. He hails from Toprawa, and claims he can provide his own X-Wing and astromech unit. I’ve got him waiting outside; would you like me to send him in?"

"Yeah, sure. Why don't you stay in here though?" Zoom answered.

A moment later, an average-sized man with neatly groomed black hair and deep green eyes stepped into Zoom's office. He looked young, like so many other Alliance's recruits these days. Sure, they had spirit, but what was the average life expectancy of an experienced Alliance pilot, let alone some rookie? Zoom wondered how many more youngsters would inevitably be sacrificed to end this war.

The young man stopped in front of Zoom and crisply saluted. "Sir, my name is Jamie Wetherill. I would like to talk to you about my becoming a part of your squadron."

"Yes, so my XO here tells me. Welcome aboard the Regis, Mr. Wetherill." Zoom reached out and shook Wetherill’s hand.

"Thank you, sir."

"Mr. Wetherill, how long have you been flying X-wings? And can you tell me anything about yourself that would make me want to take responsibility for your life?"

Both Zoom and Ranger stood quietly as Jamie related his life story to them, including the young man’s exploits in the cockpit of his starfighter. When he was done, Ranger turned to Zoom and said, "The shuttle pilot said that he looked like a natural behind the stick."

"Even so, I'd like you to go head-to-head with him in the sims and give me a report and your recommendation in say…two days?" Zoom said as he looked from Ranger to the new pilot. Ranger looked over to receive confirmation Wetherill, then answered his commander, "Two days it is."

"Is there anything else you have for me then?" Zoom asked.

"No, sir."

"Then I'll see you in the Mug later. I need to relax a bit. Mr. Wetherill, I look forward to seeing Ranger's report in two days, and I hope that we'll be able to offer you a permanent position here on the Regis. Ranger will take you to Personnel and secure a room for. Dismissed."

[The Citizen’s Mug, two days later]

Most of Red’s pilots were engaged in a friendly game of sabacc when Zoom entered the Mug. He noticed that Schmitty, just back from his leave, did not have the large pile of creditchips in front of him he usually had. Red Squadron’s leader reflected back on Michadick’s promotion announcement under similar circumstances, right here in the Mug, not so long ago. What Kelly had done then had gone over so well, he was tempted to make it a tradition in the unit.

Clasping a small datapad in his hand, he walked over to his pilots’ table. Schmitty, Vape, Keith “Nash” Rikli, Jason “Jace” Carrillo, and the two newcomers, Mike “Lonewolf” Barros and Jamie “Shadow” Wetherill, were playing. As he approached, he overheard an exasperated Jace exclaim “C’mon now…can’t I at least get one good card?”

Schmitty looked up over his hand at Jace and grinned, "What? Are you in a slump this time, Jace?"

"’Slump’ would be an understatement," the young cadet replied. Everyone at the table laughed. Jace took the good-natured ridicule with a scowl, temporarily at a loss for words. "Are you sure no one is cheating?"

"Oh yeah," Nash piped up at that, "didn't we tell you, Jace? We're all involved in a big conspiracy to make a pauper of you. That's why I have to fold this hand," he replied sarcastically as he turned left to face Shadow, who had a sizable stack of credits piled before him.

Zoom had approached the players’ table behind Shadow, and no one had seemed to notice him yet, approaching with a broad grin on his face. Schmitty looked up and immediately knew what was about to happen. He too began grinning at Jamie. Zoom inhaled deeply, and with his strongest voice, exclaimed: "Flight Officer Wetherill, on behalf of Red Squadron, I am pleased to extend the opportunity to bring down the Empire to you!” He patted the newly commissioned pilot on both shoulders. “And I certainly hope that you are either winning, or brought a lot of creds with you!"

Suddenly, the Mug was filled with cheers as patrons throughout the lounge voiced their congratulations. Shadow quickly stood up and turned to face his new commanding officer. He snapped stiffly to attention and rendered a crisp salute as he answered, "Thank you, sir. That is what I was waiting to hear!"

After Zoom returned the salute, Shadow relaxed and shouted, "I guess the drinks are on me." He looked around as he continued with a less than boisterous voice, "from what I hear!"

Everyone cheered and ran towards the lounge’s bar to place their orders. Shadow looked wryly at Zoom. "Great timing, sir."

Jamie’s companions broke into laughter, each taking a turn at congratulating the new pilot and barking out drink orders. In the middle of the commotion, Jace, still sitting at the table, grinned and called out, "Sabacc!"

Schmitty’s head quickly jerked about. "What?! You knew you would win all along, didn't you?"

A wide grin blossomed on the young pilot’s face as he swept a sizeable pile of creditchips towards himself. Suddenly, he affected a serious, pensive expression. "I'm still not that good…"

Steve huffed, knowing he had been duped. "Well, that'll teach me to never play cards with a Corellian," and with a wink turned to join the revelry.

[CRS Allegiance, main hangar]

Flight Cadet Josh "Viper" McBride stood in the vast dimly lit hangar. Usually teeming with activity, the hangar’s bay was quiet for the moment as the young cadet prepared to depart. Josh studied the Lambda-class shuttle being loaded with supplies before him. Inside, the transport’s command crew was finishing up pre-flight tests for the journey ahead. Clearly, the craft had seen better years, but Josh did not seem to care – this shuttle would be taking him to his first active duty assignment.

"Were ready to launch!" announced the shuttle's pilot.

Gathering his gear, Josh made for the shuttle’s boarding ramp. Suddenly, several men and women ran out into the hangar, calling to him. He turned to see his old commander and flightmates approaching. "Didn't think we would let you go without sayin' good-bye, did ya?" asked Commander Reeves.

Josh shook hands with the Green Training Section’s commander and said with a grin, "I just assumed you were glad to see me leave."

Everyone shared one last laugh as each of his comrades offered him luck on his trip and new assignment. After the quick farewell, Viper started up the ramp and found a seat within the shuttle. The only place to sit was in the rear cargo area. What a fitting spot, he thought as the shuttle lifted off and sped away from the Allegiance.

"Prepare for jump to hyperspace," the co-pilot announced shortly after take-off. Seconds later, the craft’s engines hummed to life and the shuttle flashed into hyperspace. After a time, the pilot came back to provide Josh their itinerary. "Fifteen standard hours till we reach our destination."

"Thank you, sir" he told the pilot. Viper lied back in his tight quarters. This is going to be a long flight, he thought.

As the shuttle sped through hyperspace, Josh teemed with excitement about his new assignment. Finally, he willed himself to relax and rest for a bit. As he dozed off, his memory drifted back to scenes from his first assignment…

He had arrived on the Allegiance shortly before their muster for Endor. His new unit had greeted him with both excitement and anticipation. Everyone knew what they were getting into – a titanic conflict that would likely determine the fate of the Alliance or the Empire. Though only combat simulator certified in the Alliance’s starfighters, Josh had amassed hours of flight time flying older craft back home on Chandrila. High Command needed all eligible pilots to fight, including his Training Section. He was as ready as he would ever be.

After a ferocious battle, Josh was one of the few to survive, and continued to excel in his training program. He had even flown in several additional combat engagements since Endor. His graduation date had been quickly approaching when Starfighter Command had reassigned him aboard the FRG Regis to the Red Squadron Training Wing. Despite the delaying his graduation, being accepted into one of the Alliance’s premier training units was no small thing.

Viper’s shuttle landed in the Regis’ hangar on schedule some time later. As the young trainee disembarked, a naval officer made his way pointedly towards him. Josh placed his belongings down, coming to attention and snapping off a salute.

"Cadet McBride?" he asked, looking down briefly at his datapad. Josh nodded. "At ease, cadet. I am Lt. Jax Elison, the Regis’ personnel officer. You were recently accepted into Red Squadron’s training unit, correct?”

"Yes, sir,” was Josh's reply.

"Follow me. I'll introduce you to your commanding officers," Jax quickly turned around and headed for the turbolift. After collecting his things, Josh hurried after him. Josh and the personnel officer maintained an awkward silence until they reached Red Leader’s office.

"This is Lt. Colonel St. Clair's office. Again, welcome aboard the Regis." With that, Elison was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Josh knocked soundly on the door and waited.

"Come in," came the reply. Viper opened the door and found two men waiting for him within. The older man, sitting behind a desk, was clearly Red Squadron’s commander. The other man, for the moment, remained a mystery. Josh entered, stopping the regulation three paces before his new commander’s desk. With as much gusto as he could muster, Josh tensed his body to attention, throwing his right hand up to his brow.

"Flight Cadet Josh McBride reporting for duty sir!" He waited for Lt. Colonel St. Clair to return the gesture before dropping his hand to his side.

“At ease, cadet. Please, have a seat," Zoom said in a relaxed voice. Gesturing at the other man, he continued. "This is Major Neill 'Ranger' Magill, my executive officer and your training officer. You will become well acquainted with him.”

McBride scrambled to his feet, jumping to attention and snapping off another crisp salute for Ranger. "Sir, I look forward to serving under you." At that, a smirk grew across both officers’ faces, each attempting to stifle laughter.

"Have a seat McBride," Ranger said, still chuckling. "We'll see if you still feel that way at the end of the week,” he added with a wink.

Zoom spent the rest of the meeting orienting the new cadet with his new unit, duty schedules, and command’s expectations. “Report to the Regis’ briefing room tomorrow morning for a formal welcome to the unit. In the meantime, I’d like you to familiarize yourself with the information on these datacards. Dismissed.”

Josh saluted his new officers once more, and left Zoom’s office. He nearly collided with the protocol droid standing directly outside the door.

"Hello, sir. Please follow me to your quarters," it said in a flat mechanical voice.

As the droid navigated through the frigate’s myriad corridors and hallways, Josh did his best to familiarize himself with the layout of the vessel. Finally, they came upon a long corridor with many doors on each side. These are probably the entire squadron's quarters, Josh noted mentally. The protocol droid stopped in front of a door, turning to the young man.

"Your new quarters, sir."

Josh nodded politely, and the droid trotted off, presumably to tend to other duties, leaving the youth alone. He looked up at the shiny nameplate on the door, which read Flight Cadet Josh "Viper" McBride. Smiling, he pushed a button and the door whooshed open.

The following day, Red Squadron assembled in the briefing room. When Zoom entered the room, Ranger called the gathered personnel to attention. Kelly slowly made his way down the aisle towards the podium, making eye contact with each of his pilots for a moment. He was proud to be the commanding officer of such a fine group of men and women. Sweeping his eyes across the room one more time, he stepped up to the room’s central dais.

"At ease, have a seat" he said. Immediately, he felt more comfortable as the pilots eased into their seats. Individuals in their line of work had a unique appreciation for those few moments when relaxation was possible.

It took Zoom a moment to register the new faces sitting among the more seasoned members of his unit. Then, he realized someone was missing. Without a word, he turned to Ranger, who seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. His executive officer just shook his head and shrugged. Zoom’s brow furrowed briefly; he would make a point to talk with the absent Red later.

Clearing his throat, he began. "As you all know, we have new arrivals I’d to introduce to the squadron. First, I would like to welcome Mike "Lonewolf" Barros and Josh "Viper" McBride to the training wing. Also, welcome Jamie "Shadow" Wetherill, who will be joining the combat wing. I understand that many of you are already acquainted with them.” Zoom turned his attention to the new pilots, “Gentlemen, I am pleased to have you join us. I hope you’ll all have long and distinguished careers in the New Republic. So, let’s make it all official. Please come forward and receive your rank insignia and squadron patches. Both will be mandatory on flight and dress uniforms."

As the new pilots began making their way to the front, the door opened, admitting a staggering man into the room. The unkempt man was clearly older than most pilots in the room, and the smell of alcohol was upon his breath. He began making his way toward an empty seat, when he stopped as if forgetting something. Coming back down the aisle, he attempted to brace his wavering body at attention before the command dais, throwing up a weak salute. Throughout the room, quiet chuckling and snickers ensued.

“Sir," the man said groggily, "sorry I'm late. I sort of…" a hiccup escaped mid-sentence "…over slept." With that, the man turned to look for a seat, still staggering.

Unable to contain themselves any longer, the assembled pilots exploded into laughter. Only Ranger, standing just behind Zoom, seemed to maintain his composure, his face contorted between disgust and humor. The unit commander, however, had had enough.

"Lieutenant Michadick…outside…now!" Zoom bellowed, quickly stifling any further disruption, as the assembly grew immediately silent. With his arm fully extended and pointing towards the door, he reiterated his command, “Now!”

This seemed to sober Schmitty up a bit, and the drunken pilot made his best effort for the door, now trying to salvage any dignity from the situation that he could. Turning to his executive officer, Zoom calmly requested that he continue the meeting, then stormed after the staggering pilot.

He found the pilot at attention outside, and came to a sharp halt inches from his subordinate’s face. Schmitty’s eyes were still glazy from his drinking, but Zoom could see the other man had registered the seriousness of the situation.

"Lieutenant, do you know why everyone was laughing?" Zoom asked.

"No, sir, I don't." Michadick struggled to maintain his position of attention.

"Then look down, Lieutenant."

Schmitty suddenly realized he was not dressed – unless one considered his underwear and boots clothed. Now, he was speechless. "Um…"

"Would you like to try and explain this?" Zoom’s hands now rested on his hips, awaiting a response. Of course, he already knew the answer.

Steve’s gaze dropped to the floor, his eyes darting every which way. No answer came from his lips.

“I want you to return to your quarters, clean up, and dress yourself. Then, head to the Mug and sober up with some caf. Afterwards, meet me in my office. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Schmitty replied despondently, and headed back to his quarters.

Zoom stood there for a moment, watching as the other man slinked away. He empathized with Steve’s personal losses – pain all too common to his pilots. Each person dealt with their demons differently, and part of his job was helping his pilots keep those demons at bay. He would have a nice, long talk with Schmitty later. Composing himself once more, Kelly turned his thoughts back to the business at hand, and reentered the briefing room.

Steve barely made it back to his room, stumbling to his knees at the entrance. Picking himself up and weakly bracing the doorframe with one arm, he managed to tap the access button before his strength gave way again. Momentum carried him into his room, where he slumped to his knees once more. Unable to stand again, Steve slumped across the foot of his bunk.

His body convulsed in a tremendous sob as suppressed sorrow finally caught up. First his family, then Hijack…and now it seemed he was losing himself to a trap he had seen so many others fall to. By drinking and gambling at Ithor, he had hoped to ease his problems away. By the time he realized he was headed towards rock bottom, he found himself there. Not only had he humiliated himself; he had embarrassed his commander and his squadron. Weeping, he slipped further into his self-inflicted depression, slowly losing himself to his failures…

[One Hour Later]

Steve awoke with a jerk. Half of his head was damp, as was his pillow from where he had cried himself asleep. Asleep! His eyes quickly shot to his wall chrono – over an hour must have elapsed. Oh no! Zoom is gonna be looking for me! I gotta get moving!

After taking the shortest shower of his life, Steve pulled out his best-pressed uniform quickly dressed. It was probably a good idea to make a better impression with Zoom this time. With the morning’s events still fresh in his mind, he began brushing his hair while studying himself in the mirror.

"Do I know you?"

He half-expected a reply, but none came. He put his brush back in a drawer. Just before closing the drawer, something inside caught his eye. Slowly, he retrieved an old black book – the very same text the Ithorian priest had given him. The priest said if I read this, it would change me life…make me a new man, he thought.

"Too bad I'm a slow reader," he said aloud.

Opening the book to the first page, he began to read: In the beginning…then stopped, knowing it would be unwise to keep Zoom waiting. Making a mental note to delve into the book later, he placed it in one of his side pockets and headed for the Mug and much-needed cup of caf.

Several hours later, Steve stepped out of Zoom's office, sighing with relief. The talk had gone much better than he had thought it would. Steve had assured his commander there would not be a repeat of the incident, and Zoom understood the man’s troubles enough to trust him. Kelly tried to balance discipline and leniency in his unit. So while Schmitty did not feel completely unscathed, he had managed to keep his rank, granted he would be pulling additional duties for a while. He knew that he had gotten off relatively easy.

Steve made for the Mug, where he would begin the first of his newly assigned cleanup duties. He suddenly remembered the priest’s book, still in his uniform’s pocket. He intended to get a start on it soon – that would be one promise he would keep to himself. There would always be breaks to read a bit here and there. Eventually, he would finish the book and then…who knew?

Finally reaching the Mug, noticed two of the patrons sitting closest to him. The young woman was familiar, though the other, a slightly older man, was most definitely a new face. As big as a Nebulon-B was, one still get reasonably familiar with most of the faces aboard. He decided to go and introduce himself.

"Umm, excuse me," he began to say, but stopped when the woman looked up and he realized who she was. "Lieutenant Maxfield! How are you doing? I met you in the Mug the day you got back from Carida." Steve held out his hand and the young woman shook it firmly as she rose.

"Oh, hi!" she greeted him cheerfully. "Michadick, right?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I remember you! You were the one that came to rescue me!" Suddenly, she dropped her gaze as her expression softened. "Well, one of the two. Hey…" she continued as she lifted her head again, "I'm so sorry about Hijack. I'll never forget what he did for me. And you too, of course." She smiled and seemed to lose herself in thought.

The young man cleared his throat, and Vape seemed to snap out of her trance. "Sorry for being so rude! Lt. Michadick, this is Thane Xanderif. He's the one that got me out of Carida and back to the Regis. He's with Alliance Intelligence. Oh, wait, I forgot…New Republic Intelligence now. But he's not as scary as all that." She winked at Thane as she said the last sentence.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Xanderif,” said Schmitty, now offering his hand in turn to the man.

Returning the gesture, Thane replied, "Please, just call me Thane."

"Very well, Thane. You can call me Steve or by my callsign, Schmitty."

"Why don't you join us, Schmitty?" Vape asked as she sat back down. "We were just talking about Thane's new assignment. He'll be leaving us tomorrow." She smiled, but it lacked most of her characteristic cheerfulness.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell us what you'll be doing?" Steve directed the question to Thane.

With a small chuckle, Thane replied, "Umm, no. If I told you, I'd have to kill you, and I think Vape would be quite put out with me if I did that."

At this, the two pilots and intelligence agents shared in a laugh.

"Well, I must say that we are grateful that you were there to pick up the pieces that I dropped back there. And I wish you all the best on your new assignment…whatever it is you’ll be doing," Schmitty said with a wink. He felt himself beginning to recover from the morning’s lows already.

"Don't mention it,” Thane replied. “It was time for me to get out of there anyway, and I thought bringing home a trophy would make me a little more welcome here. You know how people feel about spooks!" he said, chuckling as he stood. "Well, I really do have to get going and packed. Steve, it was nice to meet you. Keep an eye on Vape–I'd hate to have to spring her out of another Imperial Academy! Besides…she’s beginning to grow on me."

"Sure thing! I'll keep an eye on her for ya and try to keep her out of trouble…but you know us pilots," Schmitty said as he stood and shook Thane's hand once more.

Vape, now blushing, jumped to her feet, covering her surprise and embarrassment by punching Thane in the shoulder. "Oh, get out of here, you spook!"

"And Chelsey–", Thane said.

"Vape," she corrected, still red from his last comment.

"Vape – I'll come by and see you before I go." As he turned to leave the lounge, he paused and remarked over his shoulder, "I've never seen a person so attached to their callsign!"

Steve sat down beside Vape as she returned to her seat. She eyed him suspiciously, expecting him to say something.

Steve had already formed the question in his head, and could hardly resist. "So…you and Thane have made fast friends. You must like each other pretty well."

Vape leapt to her feet again as she flushed with renewed embarrassment and exclaimed, "Not in that fashion!"

"Oh." Steve nodded unconvincingly, chuckling inwardly.

"He just likes tormenting me," she explained. "Oh, we're not bad friends–he saved my life after all–but that's as far as it goes." She glared at him, though without much seriousness. "And you can stop trying to hide that smirk; I can see it quite plainly!"

After her initial indignation faded, she added, "I guess I will miss him a little, though. He's a nice guy." She smiled sadly. "He was my only friend in the…Imperial Academy, and he risked his life to help me escape."

Steve noticed her eyes glistening. "I know it's hard to go through what you have and see a friend leave, but I hope that we can get to know each other and that will make it a little easier."

"Oh," she paused to turn away in the hopes he would not see her wiping her eyes, "I'm sure that we'll become good friends. Anyone that is willing to put their life on the line for me has to be good friend material." She was able to crack a small smile.

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I really think I needed to hear that.

Vape shifted in her seat to face Steve more directly. "So, tell me. What made you decide to streak a briefing?"

As she started chuckling, Steve realized that this young woman had been present for his display that morning. Now it was his turn to blush. "Umm, that's a long story. Please just forget what happened in there. I sure hope no holos were running," he said sheepishly.

"Well, if I were you, I'd avoid the Mug during peak hours. I hear some of the guys are checking the film room even as we speak," she chuckled.

"Oh, great! Well, I guess I deserve whatever I get," he replied, half joking. Deep down, he felt he deserved much worse a fate than ship-wide humiliation. "Well, thanks for not laughing too hard." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "That reminds me, I have to get to cleaning this place up. It's part of my…rehabilitation."

Another figure stood up across the room, glanced at the chrono, and made his way towards Schmitty’s and Vape’s table. “Hey Schmitty,” said Jace. Steve acknowledged the cadet with a nod.

“Looks like I'm off to another sim session," the younger man continued with a big grin. "Maybe we'll do even better today. Who knows? It’s getting easier." His comment trailed off as he nodded to his comrades and made for the door.

Steve sat shaking his head as he turned back to Vape. "Those cadets…they are getting too full of themselves."

"What do you mean?" she asked him.

"Oh, last I heard, Ranger is keeping the cadets busy in the sims and they do pretty good. The problem is, Ranger went and told them he was impressed with them as individual pilots, and it’s just gone straight to their heads." He had to smirk at that. "But, Ranger is still having problems getting them to fly cohesively as a unit. So he has them performing extra time in the sims until they get it right."

"That sounds like Ranger," Vape added. "Hey, speaking of sims, we'll have to get together again sometime. Maybe do some sim time together. I'm a little out of practice in my A-wing."

"Sure. That sounds great. See ya around." As Schmitty turned to begin cleaning, a grin spread across his face. He quickly turned back to Vape, who had not yet left. "Well actually…what are you doing right now?"

Chapter 3: Hard Lessons

Alone in simulator control room, Ranger monitored the progress of his cadets as they worked through their most recent assignment. Just then, one of the cadets scored a critical primary objective. “Not bad,” Ranger mused to himself with a smirk. Several days earlier, his cadets had worked through their previous assignment with flying colors, and it showed in their flying. Rewarding their newfound confidence, Neill had decided to up the ante and make their current engagement that much more difficult.

His slight smile curved faintly into a frown as he watched one cadet inadvertently cutting off his wingman for a kill, leaving his flightmate vulnerable in the process. “You’re doing well…but still flying as individuals,” he said to himself, reflecting aloud on the lessons he had tried to convey to his students.

“Hey, I have an idea!” a voice boomed directly behind him, startling Ranger and nearly sending him crashing onto the nearest panel. He had not been aware of anyone else’s presence in the control room.

“When did you sneak in…” he started to say as he turned around, “…here?” Not one, but four faces were inches from his own, causing him to start once more. His fellow squadmates stifled their chuckles, struggling to maintain composure.

“We moseyed in a bit ago…” Yale offered, still smirking.

“…long enough to see the cadets’ heads too big for their helmets,” added Shadow.

Ranger simply blinked, still attempting to ascertain the unexpected presence of his friends.

“I was walking around in a daze when Vape jumped me with these two in tow,” Yale explained, giving a nudge to Schmitty’s shoulder.

Clearly his cue, the older pilot exchanged a quick glance with each of his co-conspirators, smiled, and began conversing with Neill quietly. Before he was done, Ranger was grinning wickedly. “I like it. It should teach them a lesson. Let’s do it.”

At that, the four pranksters turned and left the control room, still choking back laughter.

Jackal and Jace left the hangar far ahead of their fellow cadets, their sleek A-Wings hurtling towards the incoming TIE fighters. In this simulation, they were charged with the cruiser Liberty’s safety. An Imperial interdictor cruiser loomed nine klicks off her bow, preventing the Calamari warship’s escape. The cadets’ primary objective was the destruction of the interdictor, a daunting task even before the Imperial vessel had emptied its fighter bays.

The six cadets were sorely outnumbered – clearly it was that reality Ranger desired his students to experience. After all, the Alliance had been fighting an uphill battle throughout its existence. Fortunately for the cadets, their strike force included a pair of A-Wings and X-Wings, along with another pair of the powerful new B-Wing bombers. The Liberty sim was the first training scenario to include the new fighter-bombers.

Unless the Alliance’s new recruits were well versed in every starfighter, the fledgling New Republic would not be successful for long against the now-scattered Imperial forces. The fate of the Liberty now relied on the skill of a few against many. At the very least, the cadets had to bring down the interdictor’s gravity wells: thousands of lives were at stake.

“I have four squints incoming, diamond formation.”

“Roger that, Jackal. That’s two a piece!” Jace was excited to be flying an A-wing, savoring the hum of its twin Novaldex J-77 engines. Of course, anything was better than piloting an antiquated Z-95 Headhunter, the starfighter Red trainees usually spent time in. “That is, unless I get ‘em all before you can get one,” he added, smiling at himself.

Jackal rolled his eyes at the younger pilot’s bravado. “I just picked up a trio of bombers. They’re gonna try a run on the Liberty.” Tightening his grip on his flightstick, Jackal narrowed his eyes in concentration; Jace was not going to out fly him today.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Souvrin and Viper can get ‘em,” Jace responded. “I’m almost on my contacts!”

As the distance between Jace’s A-Wing and enemy fighters closed to 1.6 klicks, the Imperials began firing sporadically at the sleek Rebel craft, feeling out their range. Several bolts shot closely past Jace’s fighter. Making small adjustments to his flight pattern, Jace continued to angle in towards the opposing flight, juking his craft constantly as deadly laser fire danced about him. Several shots finally connected with his shields, rocking Jace none too gently in his seat. Pulling the stick in close to his chest, he veered out of the opposing flight’s path, barely avoiding a head-on collusion with one. Reacting quickly, he dropped his throttle to one-third, bringing the A-Wing about in a tight turn. He came about almost directly on the tail of the enemy fighters. Squeezing his trigger, Jace pumped crimson energy into the formation, and then muttered a curse. All but one of the shots had missed, sending one TIE hurtling into deep space, but leaving the other completely unscathed.

Managing a brief glance at his instrumentation, Jason noted his shields had taken a beating from his first pass with the interceptors. He was scrambling to divert more energy towards shields when the other squint dropped into his sights, heading directly for him once more. Before he could react, the TIE poured laser fire into his forward shields. Madly, Jace juked the stick hard, doing everything he could to break the enemy pilot’s line of fire. “Sheesh, this guy is good…” Finally, he was successful, but wasted no time patting himself on the back; he had to act quickly or the TIE would be right on his tail.

Not too far away, Jackal had managed one kill during his first pass on his interceptor flight. Linking his lasers, he had been able to fire several volleys before opposing firepower could converge on his A-Wing. Now, he was deftly pursuing the other, striving to keep to his enemy’s aft. The Imperial pilot proved more than capable in the cockpit, using the full agility of his craft to avoid Jackal’s laser-lock.

“My shields have taken a beating, but I managed to splash both squints!” came an excited announcement from Jace.

“Great,” was all Jackal had time to get out, still struggling to acquire a lock on his target. Suddenly, almost without thinking, he squeezed the trigger twice in succession. As he peeled away, Jackal was able to discern the squint venting atmosphere – the top of the cockpit had been completely sheared off. “Scratch two for me. Oh…and I still have my shields.” Though his last statement had not been warranted, but Aaron had been desperate to take Jason down a notch. “Get yours back up, I read a replacement wave incoming.”

Jace grinned. “Already at sixty percent, and right behind you.”

[The planet Carida]

“Pinchers Four, Five, and Six form up on me.” Baron Soontir Fel sat in his cockpit, awaiting his trainees to acknowledge the command. The Baron was piloting his personal TIE interceptor. As a high-ranking veteran pilot, Fel could have easily afforded extensive modifications to his craft, but he would have none of that; he did not maintain his reputation as the galaxy’s deadliest TIE pilot by allowing himself superfluous comforts. Soontir Fel led by example. Over the next few weeks, it was his job to take a handful of the Empire’s hopefuls and turn them into excellent pilots. Given the right students, he would do just that.

“Krem and Cidran, you’re too close,” Bexley, now known as Pincher Five, told his wingmen.

“Five, good call. Four and Six, watch the spacing. Follow your leader. Rebel pilots usually fly in pairs and are shielded, so you’ll have to learn to be a team if you are going to come out of a battle alive. Watch one another's backs. If one of you is in trouble, the other two should be there to help. Now, we’ll go through a few maneuvers to see how well you can stay in formation.”

Momentarily, the Baron found himself reminiscing about his days at Carida as a cadet. Already, he had been an excellent pilot, but succeeding at the Academy required more than skill in the cockpit. It required cunning and ambition. His trainees were no slight example of that.

Bexley, Pincher Five, loved to fly, and had been overwhelmed by his good fortune to receive training from the Empire’s preeminent pilot. An opportunity such as this boded well for his prospects upon graduation, and his natural strength of will secured him the leadership of Pincher Group Two.

Pincher Four was one of Bexley’s suitemates, Krem. Krem was charismatic, and a joker. He was also a xenophobe, and strongly touted the New Order’s tenet of non-human subjugation. To jest that Krem only enlisted in the Empire’s pilot cadet corps to shoot down an alien or two may not have been that far from the truth.

Bexley’s other wingman and suitemate, was Cidran, Pincher Six. A native Caridan of notable pedigree, Cidran had no trouble being accepted to the Academy. The scion of a proud heritage of Naval service, Cidran longed to prove himself as an exemplary TIE pilot too.

Bexley chimed in on the comm-channel once more. “Ok, Pinchers, follow me and keep it tight. Let’s show the Baron that we are the best students he has.” There were two loud cheers from his wingmen over the comm. Bexley focused on his flying, trying to stay in perfect formation with his instructor.

“That’s all the chatter I want to hear, cadets. Get this right the first time. We don’t have the time to repeat simple lessons like this. Tomorrow we focus on tactics; then, the sims for combat training.” From here on, Fel was all business.

[FRG Regis, Simulator Room]

“Viper, ya got an eyeball on your six,” Souvrin called to the other X-wing pilot.

“I know, but I gotta finish off this dupe before it unloads its torps. Can you get him off my back?”

“Negative, too far away. Put your shields full aft.”

“Roger. I shoulda thought of that,” Viper replied, chiding himself. “Duke, you hear that? Shields full aft.” Duke’s warbled reply was translated on one of Viper’s screens. “Don’t worry, the shields should hold long enough for us to get the job done.”

“One down, one to go,” Souvrin called out to his wingman.

Josh knew no reply was necessary, keeping his concentration focused on the juking TIE bomber in front of him. He and Souvrin were responsible for interdicting the double-hulled TIEs before the Imperial craft could fire any warheads at the Liberty. The one before him was the last of a flight, and just out of laser range. Having his X-Wing’s laser recharge rate set to maximum prevented him from quickly overtaking the lumbering Imperial bomber.

Josh switched to missiles, tired of the chase. His had stopped juking his own fighter while attempting a warhead lock, and the pursuing TIE began scoring hits on his aft shields. If only that dupe would stop jumping around, he thought to himself. Patiently, he waited for his targeting reticule to turn red, even as Duke began shrieking at him to evade.

“That’s two more for me,” Nathan said over the channel. “I’m picking up another set of dupes headed for the Liberty. I’m on them. You ok?”

“Sure," Viper said, knowing that it was a flat out lie. His shields were barely holding, and the bomber still evaded his warhead lock. "This dupe got off a few torps, though. I hope the Liberty’s shields are fully up. I’m going evasive to get rid of my trailer.” He resisted the thought to ask for some help.

“So far you’re all doing very well,” Fel announced to the twelve Pinchers seated in the tactical briefing room. “But here is where the skids meet the ground. We’re here today to teach you not only the tactics used by the Imperial Navy’s TIE interceptor pilots, but also those used by the Rebels. You will be expected to memorize all of it. Out in space you won’t have your datapads, nor would you have the time to look at them if you did. Out there it’s split-second decision-making that makes the difference between life and death. And I’m here to teach you how to make the right decision so that it’s your life and their death.”

Bexley sat in his seat with his back straight, keeping his full attention on Fel. He was still in awe of his good fortune. My mentor, Baron Fel! Learning the ways of his enemy would not be easy, and he was sure memorizing them all would be harder than it sounded. But as Pincher Group Two’s leader, it was up to him to set the example.

The two B-wing bombers were nearly within firing range of the Interdictor cruiser that had pinned down the Liberty. Its heavy laser cannons were already firing at the approaching Rebel fighters. Fortunately, the B-Wing’s Verpine designers had made it both maneuverable and capable of carrying a heavy warhead payload. Still, the Red trainees were being pushed to their limits, and already, their shields were being slowly eaten away.

Garm knew they would start taking more hits as they got closer, and their shields could only hold for so long. He tried to remember what Ranger had told them about attacking interdictors. Remember class; try to find the angle where the fewest guns can find you and then, work on the shields.

“Easy for him to say,” he grumbled to himself.

Lonewolf was just off Sentinel’s starboard side. “Sentinel, our best chance will be to come at it from just over the bridge. Let’s cut around from behind.”

“Sounds like a plan. Don’t target the Revenge yet though; just dumb fire all your torps. We’re close enough that they should get through. Then, we can take the take down the gravity wells with our ions.”

“Roger. Follow me.” Lonewolf juked to avoid another barrage of laser fire spouting from the Imperial cruiser’s batteries.

“Right behind ya!”

In the few seconds that it took the two bombers to circle around to the back of the large ship, Mike had the time to think about the situation. It dawned on him that things weren’t happening as they normally did when an Interdictor-class cruiser showed up in-system. Normally, an Imperial-class Star Destroyer would show up and maneuver itself into its prey’s exit vector. Then the Interdictor would hyper in near the larger Star Destroyer to keep the prey from leaving on another vector. But this was different. So far there was no other capital starship. Surely the Imps knew that the B-wings would be able to at least disable the gravity well generators, especially since its fighter screen was busy trying to get to the Liberty and not protecting the Revenge.

Before Lonewolf could finish his line of thinking, they were coming back in line with the Star Destroyer.

“Ok, start letting loose those torps,” Sentinel’s voice boomed in his ears as he saw a few torpedoes fly from his wingman’s fighter. Each B-wing carried a load of twelve torpedoes, so twenty-four should be plenty to take down the Revenge’s shields. Once the shields were down, a short barrage of ion cannons from the fighters would take the ship’s systems offline so that the Liberty would be free to leave the system.

All twenty-four torpedoes had been fired at the large ship, and Sentinel’s systems showed that its shields were indeed down. Now the two B-wings were flying away from the shieldless ship, attempting to energize their own shields after their crippling run at the enemy craft.

“Lonewolf, I just picked up another SD entering the system! It’s an Imp-class and it’s behind the Liberty and dropping fighters. We have to get the Revenge’s gravity wells down and fast!”

Mike looked down at his screen and verified that there were now two Imperial capital starships in the system. That was it. That was what was wrong with this scenario! “I was just thinking that there should have been another SD here!”

The blood in his veins was running hot now. Lonewolf felt anxious and wanted to get his fighter to make the turn faster, but with his shields recharging rate at maximum, it just wouldn’t. Then he noticed something on his sensors; something that told him they were in big trouble. "Ummm, Sentinel…do you see what I see?"

"Sithspit! Four more squints from the Revenge! And they're headed our way!"

Finally, Bexley thought to himself, in the cockpit. He ran over all of the lessons he and his friends had been taught over the last few weeks about flying a TIE fighter. He thought about the tactics, the strategies, and about its weaknesses. It worried him a little when he learned of the Rebels' shields. But then he remembered Cidran’s encouragement: “Don’t worry . . . we’re being trained by the best.”

“Pincher Five, wake up!” Krem's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “We have a group of Rebel fighters coming in."

“Right, I see them. Stay in formation behind me. I’m going to break right before they get any shots off and then swing around on their tail. You and Six cover me.”

Bexley got the pinged acknowledgments from his friends. Now it’s time to put what we learned to practice, he concluded in his mind. Then he let himself drift into complete concentration on his flying.

The trio of TIEs, as one, did what their leader had said he would do. They even got around on the tail of the trailing X-wing fighter and laid into it. With the three TIEs trading off shots, it didn’t take long for the Rebel fighter to lose its shields and blow.

Maintaining their formation, the Pinchers proceeded to take out the other enemy fighters as well save the academy from being attacked.

Krem, Cidran, and Bexley were congratulating each other when Fel’s voice came over their radios.

“Good flying, cadets. But that was just a warm up. We’re going to fly it again. This time we’ll step it up a bit and throw in a surprise or two. Remember the lessons you learned. Is everyone ready?”

All of them acknowledged. Then they were at the start of the sim mission again, wondering what surprises awaited them.

Viper frantically looked over his shoulder to try to see where the TIE was. At the same time he was jamming his stick from left to right and every other direction in an attempt to out maneuver his attacker. So far, his efforts were not working as he had hoped. His shields were almost gone now and Duke was now out of commission. It'd been a long time since he had this much trouble with an eyeball.

A few seconds later, alarms alerted him that his shields were depleted.

"Souvrin!" he yelled out. But it was too late. He heard the hiss of escaping air and the hydraulics of his canopy opening. For him, the sim was over.

Souvrin heard the start of his name over the comm just as he saw Viper's dot fade out on his sensors. Realizing that he was on his own, he turned his craft around and headed back towards the Liberty to try to take out the TIE bomber that was now launching warhead after warhead at his command ship, as well as the new flight of dupes that were on their way. He just hoped that Sentinel and Lonewolf would take out the Revenge soon enough for the Liberty to make the jump to hyperspace before it blew up.

However, near the Revenge, Sentinel's shields were gone and he was taking hull damage fast from the beating he was taking from the TIE interceptors. Lonewolf, too, was in the same condition. They were both able to launch most of their torpedoes, but it wasn't enough to destroy the gravity well generators.

Knowing that he was not going to make it out of this fight, Lonewolf pushed his throttle to full and headed straight for one of the four generators. As his ship crashed into the structure, it emitted flames as it slowly died. One of the generators was out of commission.

Sentinel launched the last of his torpedoes that destroyed another generator before the squints around him fired the killing shots to take him out of action.

Less than a minute later, Ranger decided that the cadets had had enough and ended the simulation. All of the remaining pods opened to let the cadets emerge. Jace immediately jumped to the floor and yelled out, “Hey! What happened?”

The rest of the cadets looked as dumbfounded as Jace. Each one looking to the other for an answer. Each one nodding their head. Then, all of the sudden, four of the other pods opened to the cadets’ utter surprise.

Vape, Schmitty, Shadow, and Yale all stood up in the pods as they prepared to exit. They were all laughing.

As one, all of the cadets turned to the veteran pilots and asked in unison, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We thought you guys could use a good lesson on why it’s important to cover each other’s backs,” replied Yale with a big grin on his face.

“Yeah, you all have been walking around here with swelled heads lately, so we decided to put some ice on ‘em for ya. Ya know . . . so you could get through the doors and all.” Schmitty’s comment had the other three vets busting out in laughter.

Vape stopped laughing and became serious. “Ranger told us that you guys are great pilots, but that you tend to fly only for yourselves . . . as individuals. If you’re going to survive out there in real combat, you’re going to have to fly as a team and back each other up. Schmitty and I were able to take Viper out because Souvrin wasn’t there to help him. And Yale and Shadow were able to take out Lonewolf and Sentinel before they could destroy all of the gravity wells because Jackal and Jace weren’t there to cover for them. So, now do you see?”

They all nodded with understanding as Ranger walked into the room.

“Ok, cadets. I hope you learned something this time. Go take a break and we’ll fly it again.” Ranger then turned to Vape and the rest. “Thanks, guys. I think that’ll help them out a lot.”

[The planet Carida]

His men had already boarded the shuttle and awaited him for departure. They had done their job; but due to increased Rebel activity in another sector, they had to rejoin their unit. Fel was proud of the cadets he had trained and was confident that they could perform the mission that would be theirs: the defense of Carida.

It had been six long weeks and they had heard nothing about a Rebel attack on Carida. Soontir wondered if an attack would come at all. Were the Rebels that brazen? Did they really think that they could breach this place? That would take a lot of guts. But he had an Empire to defend, and this school would have to fend for itself. He had helped them do that and now his wife was waiting for him. So, he took one last look around and ascended the ramp to his shuttle home.

Chapter 4: Test Prep

Steve was finding the book given to him by the Ithorian priest very interesting and surprising. Sure, the priest had told him that this book would change his life, but he hadn't really believed it at the time. Now, however, he was beginning to change his mind. The things he was reading were incredible. Nothing he had ever read before had gone straight to his heart and been so convicting as this.

With each word he read he was not only learning more about the one that created him, as well as everything around him, but he was also learning more and more about himself. However, he didn't like the new self-portrait.

After all of the years of believing that he was a good person, he was now learning the truth. Although he did drink a bit and enjoyed a good game of Sabacc, he was always a nice person and would help anyone. Nevertheless, this book showed him that being a good person wasn't the answer. Besides, after reading what it really took to take him out of God's graces he was astonished. He learned that one bad thing was just as bad as any other. There was no size difference to the infraction. And Steve realized that he was guilty of more than just one of them, but it didn't matter . . . it only took one.

If he had stopped reading at that point he would probably fall deeper and deeper into a great depression and lose all hope for a future. Fortunately, Steve prodded himself to go on. Surely, the priest wouldn't have given him something that would ruin his life. There had to be more to it. There had to be something in the book that made the priest come over to him that day. So, he kept reading.

Hours later he finished reading. He was glad that he did. The rest of the book, he found, was a message of hope. It told of the one true way. And that was to accept the sacrifice that Y’shua made for him and live according to his word. Doing that assured Steve that he would have eternal life. Not that that meant that he would live forever in his current body, but that his soul would live forever. To him, there was no greater hope than that. It was all so simple and he wanted everyone to know of this hope and accept it. Of course, most likely, few would, which is why the book said that "narrow is the gate and few that go in."

With tears in his eyes, not of sadness, but of joy, Steve slowly dropped to his knees and gave his life to Y’shua. In that instant, he knew that he was a new man. And he vowed to himself, as well as to his savior, that he would make his change not only internal, but external as well. He would stop drinking and gambling. He would try, to the best of his ability, to be as much like Y’shua as he could possibly be.

For the first time in a long time, Steve was able to stand up with a hope in his heart. And that hope brought a sincere smile to his face. If it were humanly possible, he would have been glowing at that very moment with the joy that was radiating from his heart and soul. He didn’t want this moment to ever end, but he had a burning desire to tell someone about what had happened to him. Unfortunately, it was very late and he had a briefing early the next morning.

As he pulled the bed covers over his chest he told himself that he would tell Biggs all about it . . . if he awoke when Rob returned from patrol.

The next morning, all of Red Squadron assembled in the briefing room as ordered. Yale and Shadow were talking about the cadets. After their little training exercise the other day, they seemed to be more humble. Ranger had even said that they were doing much better in the sims and flying more as a team. However, they still had a long way to go before they would be ready for the combat wing.

Once everyone was in the room and seated, the front doors opened and both Lt. Col. St. Clair and Maj. Magill entered the room. As usual, the room suddenly became silent as the pilots jumped up from their seats to a position of attention. Red Squadron’s commanding officer walked up to the podium and, with a wave of his hand, told everyone to have a seat.

“Good morning, squadron,” he said, nodding his head slightly. “I know that you all are wondering why I have called this briefing today. The other day we received orders from High Command for a new mission. They have decided that, if we are going to win this war against the Empire, we’re going to have to somehow cut off their supply lines. Several task forces are being set up in different parts of the galaxy to do just that. Our part in this is going to be their supply of personnel . . . trained personnel. Our mission will be an assault on the Imperial Academy on Carida.”

As he finished the sentence, a murmur went around the room. Kelly noticed a stunned look on both Steve’s and Chelsey’s faces. The rest of the pilots showed mixed reactions.

“Now, I know that some of you may have a hard time with this, but remember that we’re soldiers and here to do what is needed of us.” This he said while looking at the two pilots that had not too long ago come from there. He knew that he’d have to have a talk with them both after the briefing, but he had to go on with the briefing right now.

“Major Magill will now give you the details.” Kelly motioned to his executive officer to come to the podium as he stepped to the side.

“Yes, sir,” Neill replied as he moved into position. He then turned to face the seated pilots and began his mission brief.

“For this mission we will be in two groups. One group will attack the Frigate Agitator, which is the training platform for their TIE fighters. The other group will attack the Academy on the ground." He paused a moment to let that last part sink in. A ground assault would be new for Red Squadron pilots since they were used to strictly fighting in space. Sure, they've flown the Y-Wing's in assault missions, but that was on space based platforms and capital starships. "This is going to be a typical hit and run. We go in, drop our bombs, and bug out.”

Neill saw that most of the pilots nodded their heads in acknowledgement, so he continued.

“OK. Group One will be Zoom, Shadow, Redjed, Vape, Yale, and Nash. You all will be in the T-65s. This should be a simple shoot ‘em up since the Agitator should not have a full weapons platform and the pilots will be mostly trainees.”

“Group Two, which of course will be the rest of you, will be in Y’s and B’s. Me and Schmitty, will be in the 2 B-wings. Kyp and Wire will be in the two-seater Y-wing number 1. Phoenix and Palador will be in the other one. Leo and Kiki, you’ll both be in the single-seat Y-wings.”

“The Regis will hyper into the Hok system, we’ll all launch, and then make the quick hop into the Carida system. That should give us an element of surprise. Then Group A will work on the Frigate and any fighter support that may exist while Group B carries out the assault on the Academy. You’ll also be covering Group B’s withdrawal should they need it. Questions, Group A?”

None came.

“With intelligence that was gathered by Agent Thane Xanderif, whom some of you may already know, we know that there is a shield that covers the Academy. We also know the location of the shield generator. That will be our first target. Once we take it out we go straight for the Academy. There are negligible ground defenses so we should be able to complete the job in only a few passes. Then we simply head for our hyper point and bug out. Any questions?”

As he looked over the faces of the pilots that would be Group B there were no signs of questions.

He was about to continue when a couple hands popped up. He acknowledged the first one that he saw.

"Yes, Viper."

The young flight cadet stood at his seat and addressed his executive and training officer. "Sir, we were just wondering…will the training section be able to take part in any way?" Once he finished his question he sat back down and waited for the answer.

"As a matter of fact, I was just going to mention that. Yes…" he paused for a moment to see the growing smiles on all of the trainees' faces. "The training section is going to stay on the Regis with the SAR shuttles. You will launch with them in the event that they are needed. Your job will be to cover them while they complete their mission. Do you think you can handle that?" He was just trying to give them a hard time with that comment, but was in actuality serious.

As one, the trainees responded with a boisterous, "Yes, sir!"

"Excellent. Well, then if there are no more questions you may all report to the sims. We've taken the liberty of loading what we believe we'll be something close to what to expect to get you ready. I want everyone to run through it as many times as it takes. Ok. Dismissed."

The corridors on the Regis seemed to be quiet as Vape walked solemnly along on her way to the cafeteria. It had been a long day running the Carida mission over and over again. She didn't realize how she felt about it until the jump into the system and she saw the planet hanging there in space in front of her. The memories came flooding back without warning and she almost veered into her wingman. But at the last second, and voices yelling through the comm, she jerked her stick to move her back into position.

Her job in the mission was to shoot down TIEs. Although she'd done just that more times than she could count, this time seemed different. Any one of those fighters could be a friend or at least an acquaintance of hers while she was there not that long ago. Would it have been like shooting down one of her squadmates? She was finding that it could be.

Somehow she managed to find herself in the cafeteria sitting there sifting through her thoughts and fears. It wasn't like her to be so reticent, but the events of a few months ago had changed her. As her thoughts flowed from one thing to another, she barely noticed that a man had walked up to her table.

Almost imperceptibly she jumped in her seat. "Oh! Hi there, Schmitty. You startled me."

"I see that," he smiled. "You seem to be a little out of it today. I'm guessing it has something to do with the upcoming mission." He phrased it as a statement, but the look in his eyes proved that it was really a question. Vape hadn't known the man long, but for some reason they instantly had a connection. It was probably due to his mission to rescue her from the clutches of the Empire she thought. However, she also considered that he was easy to talk to. Without him even asking people would share things with him that they wouldn't share with others without fears that he would spread it around the entire ship. That was refreshing in close quarters of a starship.

So, to answer his unasked question, she motioned him to have a seat next to her and began to tell him about her thoughts about going back to Carida. She told him about her fear of shooting down possible friends. The whole time he just listened to her. He never interrupted her or added his own thoughts. He just listened to her. When she appeared to have gotten it all out he spoke.

"Chelsey," he paused. His voice and demeanor was that of a caring father. "I understand." He said it as if knowing that it was exactly what she needed to hear at that moment. "I feel the same things. True, I don't know any of those pilots that we may encounter, but I do see them as people…the same as you and me and the rest of the Alliance. I really don't want to be the one that sends them into eternity with them knowing where they would spend that eternity. It's a heavy burden to bear. I think this is similar to what you are feeling."

She nodded. "Kind of, yes. You seem different today. Why this sudden talk of eternity and all?"

"I'm glad you asked," he said with the warmest smile she had ever seen. "I've been wanting to tell someone what happened to me all day." He then told her all about the events that lead him to Ithor. He told her about the priest and the book. There was a great sadness to the first part of his story, but then she could see the joy flooding out of him when he told her about his decision to give his life to Y'shua. Although she didn't quit understand his reasons or his faith, she too listened the way he had listened to her.

They each took turns listening and talking to each other. After several hours they felt like they knew each other very well and had been friends for ages. They probably would have stayed and talked even longer, but the staff was gone and the last one was turning off the lights.

"Thanks for listening to my rambling, Steve," Chelsey said as she rose from her chair to leave.

"Anytime, Chelsey," he replied. "Besides…that's what friends are for. I guess we better get out of here and let this guy get back to his room."

"Yeah, see ya tomorrow in the sims." As they walked through the door they walked down the corridor towards their respective rooms.

[Aboard the ISD Inquisitor]

Admiral Awlas tossed the datapad onto his desk and then reclined in his chair. He was in his stateroom, which were the largest and most luxurious living quarters on the huge ship. He took pride in keeping everything pristine and in its place. Everything had its place. It was this sense of order that he carried throughout all aspects of his life…to include his command style.

"Order," he thought to himself. "That was something that the Empire was built on. That's why Palpatine called it the New Order. Order is what kept the various systems in line and things running smoothly for years." Oh, how he longed for a return of that precious order in the galaxy.

But the rebels destroyed that order when they destroyed the instruments of order at Endor. Now the Emperor was gone along with the second Death Star and a good number of the Imperial Starfleet. After that things began to unravel quickly. The rebellion even started calling themselves the New Republic. Awlas had to laugh at their audacity.

Ever since the battle at Endor the Empire was without a strong leader. Many Moffs and Admirals had tried to step into Palpatine's shoes, but none had succeeded thus far. The latest to attempt a grab at power was Sate Pestage, one of Palpatine's administrators. But Awlas knew that he was not the one that would pull the shattering Empire back together, which brought him back to the datapad now lying on his desk. It was an open invitation to join Moff Clovis Lemmor in the Grazala system in his bid to bring the Empire back to its' prior glory. Awlas had read what the Moff was proposing and thought that the plan was a sound one. In his opinion, if anyone had a chance to revive the Empire, it would be Lemmor. He had a good sized fleet and the leadership ability to pull things together. He was also a good strategist, which would be needed in the coming times.

So, it seemed to Awlas that he had no other alternative. He would take his small fleet, which now consisted of only his command ship: the ISD Inquisitor, the VSD Valiant, the Frigates Heinous, Venom, and Vendetta, as well as the three corvettes Titan, Salvage, and Stave, and join Moff Lemmor. However, there was still one problem. With all of the battles they've been in with the rebels, he was very low on fighters and pilots. The question was how was he going to replenish them now that there was no official means to do so. Then he remembered an old friend of his.

He sat up in his chair and pushed a button on his desk. "This is the Admiral. Helm, set a course for the Carida system and then to the Grazala system. Then alert the others to follow suit. We're going to go some new recruits and then we'll help rebuild the Empire. Awlas out," he said releasing the button and sitting back in his chair again propping his elbows on the arms of the chair. His fingers came together tip to tip in front of his face as he began to talk out loud to himself. "Grem, my old friend, it's been a long time."

Minutes later his small fleet darted into hyperspace.

Chapter 5: Finals

Bluish light danced across Vape’s face as she ran diagnostics on her X-Wing’s systems while they were still in hyperspace. This was her first major engagement since she had been rescued, and she would not allow Hijack’s sacrifice to be wasted because of faulty systems. Not that Pappy would allow that, she thought wryly to herself, a slight smile coming to her face. Focusing on the task before her, the smile quickly faded.

She tried to think of the swirling blue of hyperspace as peaceful, as it usually seemed, but now it appeared as roiling and chaotic, like her thoughts. She didn’t want to return to Carida. In truth, she was a little scared of the prospect. If they caught her after all that had happened now…But she crammed the thought into a dark corner; she didn’t need such things on her mind.

It had been several weeks since her escape from the Imperial Academy on Carida, and still the thought of her time there haunted her. What had she done under the control of the Imperials…more importantly, what would she have done for them? The thought of engaging her friends in Red, her family in Red, frightened her to no end. But I can’t focus on that now, brushing the thought aside, now, I have a job to do. Settling back in her seat, she took in the swirling vertigo about her craft. Usually, she found such trips in hyperspace soothing; today, she just felt cold.

A slight twitter interrupted the silence. CHELSEY, WE ARE 30 SECONDS FROM REVERSION, her on board systems translating her astromech Tooby’s message. A smile returned to the young woman’s face, “Thank you Tooby, preparing for reentry.” She ensured her comm was set on Red’s tactical frequency, and braced herself.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, keep a sharp lookout” came Zoom’s voice, “reversion in 5…4…3…2…1!”

Simultaneously, all Alliance craft reverted to realspace, the bluish-green world of Carida looming before them. The scene almost belied their imminent danger when a voice broke in, “Lead, this is Four, I’ve detected multiple contacts at mark two-three-eight. One Nebulon-B frigate and multiple smaller contacts!”

“Roger that Four,” replied Zoom. “Group A, break to engage the Agitator and her screen, Group B, commence strike on ground targets.”

“Copy Lead, Group B, form up!” Ranger said as a motley group of Y-Wings and B-Wings vectored towards the planet’s surface.