Saturday 28 April 2018

Star Wars: Old Wounds (6)

Later that night, Dak wandered the narrow corridors of the Centurion alone, reminiscing on the long-lost glory days of his youth, remembering the ghosts of old friends. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clattering coming from the boarding ramp. He turned and strode in the direction of the sound to find Lara attempting to sneak onboard, carrying armfuls of ration packs, her subtlety ruined by a few stray packets which had fallen to the floor. Bending to help her relieve her lost supplies, Dak asked,

"Felt like a midnight snack? I'd be careful if I were you. Wedge is in a bit of a court-marshaling mood today."

"No, I think it's just you he has an issue with. He wouldn't be the first, Gramps. Besides, if he wants to come after me for this, he'll have his hands full. Janson and Porkins are still in the mess, digging into the puddings." Lara replied. Dak chuckled in response.

"Well, then we can form an orderly queue to face his ire." he added, before trailing off. Lara was staring at him, a hard edge in her eyes. A look he'd received frequently of late. She spoke, her voice laced with concern.

"Enough jokes Dak. What's up? You not sleeping again?"

"It's nothing." Dak said, quickly. "I'm fine. Just missing the old girl." he added, gesturing at the ship.

"Don't try and flip a blast shield over my eyes. I know you too well. I know when you're not alright. You've been having those nightmares again. What is it this time?" Lara urged him to speak.

"Nothing. Just an old man's weariness. Don't fret about me." he sighed.

"Don't give me that. I've told you, you need to talk to someone. I understand not wanting to bring it up with the fly-guys, but I'm practically your daughter. You raised me for over ten years. You can talk to me." A silent pause hung in the air for a few moments. When it became clear that he wouldn't reply, Lara tried a different approach.

"So, what was it this time? That time on Rhyindar? The mines of Preet? The fortress of K'ddash?" Still, Dak remained silent. Lara's eyes widened with realisation.

"No, not Xantu... you haven't had those dreams in years."

"Well, having all the bones of your right arm ground to dust is just the kind of trauma that stays with you!" Dak snapped. He paused to compose himself, before continuing,

"That was the day I failed. The day I lost everyone I ever cared for, bar you, each one believing in me until their final breaths. The day the man I was died, leaving me in his place. A lingering shadow, a pale imitation."

"So stop trying to fill his shoes. Embrace who you are now, don't wallow in the past. The galaxy still needs you, it needs everyone who's willing and able to rise up, if the tyranny of the Empire is to be opposed. The Rebellion is full of broken people. Ex-criminals and scoundrels, slaves and the oppressed, and every single soldier here has lost someone they care about. We have to take that pain, hold it tight, let it be fuel for our struggle, rather than for our funeral pyres."

"I wish I shared your optimism, Smudges. But I lost that spark long ago." said Dak, with resignation.

"Really? Then why did you join the Rebellion? Was it just to keep an eye on me? Because I don't need your protection. If that's all that's keeping you here, go and leave the fighting to those who have the heart." Lara blazed with anger. She knew Dak better than he did at times. She knew he still cared, too much.  That was why he tried to close himself off, tried to erect walls to distance himself from suffering. She had to be harsh to force him to see himself.

"I..."  Dak started, before trailing off. He couldn't find the words he wanted to say. He half smiled to himself with pride in his surrogate daughter. She was stubborn enough to bring down the Empire single handed. He admired her determination, her endless, hopeful resolve. She never stopped believing in him, something he had always struggled with.

"You're right Lara." he said, finally. "We've got a battle to win in a few hours, so I'd better try and get at least a few minutes of shut eye." as he strode out of the ship, he called back, while waving two ration packs, "Oh, and I'm keeping this Bantha jerky. Consider it a bribe so I don't tell Wedge about your thievery."

***

Wedge had a bad feeling about the mission. If he was being honest, he always had a bad feeling, a flutter of nerves before every encounter he was involved in. But this felt different, somehow. Privately, he wondered if attacking the same convoy so soon was wise, surely the Imperials would be on the defensive, but who would expect such a blatantly audacious attack? Besides, he reasoned, it was necessary if they were to uncover the details of Project Indomitable. He kept his concerns to himself, no point in distracting his wingmates, instead he gazed out into the void of space, watching for the approach vector of the vessel.

With a silent pop, the Imperial cargo transport stretched into real-space. Moving with practiced elegance, the Rebel pilots began their assault, mirroring their previously successful tactics. Wes was the first to notice that something was amiss.

"Red Leader, do you see the TIEs it's carrying?"

"Affirmative Red Three. Are they painted gold?!"

"It's more of a dull bronze colour." Dak added, needlessly.

"Are we facing off against an agent of a particularly ostentatious Moff or something?" Wes asked, exasperatedly. "Is it too much to ask for the Empire to show some class?"

"Maybe it's a new trick to confuse and dazzle us?" said Dak. "Because if so, I have to admit it's having the desired effect."

"Whatever the reason, it can't be good. Form up and stay sharp. Those eyeballs are undocking, and we don't know what they're capable of." Wedge ordered.

Like Mynocks from a cave ceiling, the sheltered, shining TIEs dropped from the transport, preparing to engage the Rebels, though each moved slowly and deliberately, as if pushing against a massive resistance. They appeared as if they were attempting to force their way through a viscous liquid, rather than the empty vacuum of space.

"These things are ridiculously slow!" Dak laughed. "Whatever they're covered in, they've lost all maneuverability."

"Easy pickings then!" said Wes in agreement. "Going in!"

Wes' X-Wing banked towards the nearest fighter, easily locking onto its lazy listing trajectory. He squeezed his triggers, and his quad-cannons barked hot bolts of plasma at the gilded TIE. To no effect.

"Nothing! These eyeballs must have some high powered shields to tank that much firepower." Wes exclaimed, with frustration.

"I don't think so." Wedge replied, uncertainly. "Look at the wing's surface." The exterior of the TIE seemed to fizz as electrical energy sparked across it, slowly dissipating. Several isolated spots where Wes' attacks struck glowed a molten red, but still the surface was unbroken. "I think the hull absorbed your blasts somehow. You hit it, but nothing happened. How is that even possible?"

"No..." Dak muttered to himself, an old memory surfacing from his mind. "It can't be..."

Before Red Squadron could regroup, the bizarre, armoured TIEs began their counterattack. Each fighter spat harsh green energy at the Rebels, monstrously powerful blasts that were more akin to the turbolaser batteries of a capital ship than a one-man craft. For a while, both sides were locked into a stalemate. The nimble X-Wings able to weave between and evade the Imperial fire, but unable to inflict any damage of their own on the lumbering TIEs. As the battle lingered, weariness began to burrow into the resolve of the Rebels, until...

"I'm hit!" Wes cried out. As he tried to swerve left from the TIE on his rear, he drifted into the stray fire of a second fighter. Smoke and sparks trailed from two of his engines, and one of his S-Foil wings had sheared off entirely. "Port engines are fried, but I can hold it." he growled through gritted teeth.

"No you can't. Get out of here, while you still can!" Wedge demanded, narrowly avoiding more enemy fire.

"I've got this!" Wes pleaded.

"I said leave. That's an order!" Wedge yelled. "You're no good to us dead. And someone has to get word back to the base about these new fighters."

Reluctantly, Wes peeled off from the group and made a break for open space, and the safety of Lightspeed. One of the TIE Fighters followed, determined not to lose its prey, but even in his damaged state, Wes could outmanoeuvre a single ship. Instead, as he fled, all he could do was listen helplessly to his friends continuing a futile struggle.

"This is hopeless!" Dak said, finding a brief moment of calm before having to dodge fresh fire.

"Agreed." Wedge concurred. "We need more firepower. Prepare to..."

Wedge's voice cut off abruptly, as his X-Wing took a glancing blow from a TIE. The nose of the craft was blown clean off, and his engines flared with a quickly smothered conflagration. The remaining husk of his fighter drifted in the void, just inside the outer edges of Andriss' atmosphere, just within its gravity well. Slowly, the burning cockpit fell towards the planet below, its edges beginning to glow as it streaked through the atmosphere.

"Wedge!" Wes cried, in desperation.

"I've got a plan." Dak replied, gunning his Y-Wing towards the falling wreckage. "It's not much of a plan, but it's something. Wes, you have to tell High Command about these new fighters. In case we don't make it out..."

"Don't. Whatever it is, don't say it. The three of us can discuss it over an Alderaanian Ale when  it's over. Wes out."

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