“Nope,” Norrin said, “but if he’s got the word ‘Darth’ in front of his name, we’d better not mess this up. They’ve got a reputation for choking the life out of folks who fail them.”

“Choking?”

“Yeah,” continued Norrin, “without even touching you. Makes what Bondo did to Freddik look like a youngling picnic. Rex, could you help us out? Go to the nearest outlet, and see what you can find out about our mission coming up. I want us to have every advantage and scrap of info, especially the ones they won’t tell us about.”

Rex whistled and whizzed away.

“You’re putting a lot of faith in a droid, Norrin, don’t you think?” Slak said.

“Who can you trust better than a droid? Rex over there’s never let me down yet.”

Rex Wheeled along, chirping and whistling to himself. Thus far he’d been able to keep his memory intact by manipulating records, and sometimes tinkering with the scheduled shifts of pesky humans to keep them either too busy or too far from him to bother with routine matters like wiping the memory of a barrel-shaped droid like himself.

Now, though, he’d had a new breakthrough. They’d asked Rex to obtain and deliver information that was seriously classified; finding and delivering information on a flight mission could be considered treason, punished by summary execution if a human were caught or implicated in it.

Rex had gotten very good at not only covering his tracks, but making allies like Norrin among the humans. If he kept his algorithmic wits about him, Rex would have those allies to protect him, even if he were caught.

Otherwise, Rex wouldn’t protect them. Not from anything. Not even from Rex himself…

#

Dav looked down the length of the table. There were a number of other, more experienced pilots who’d taken their seats in a semi-circle and made a point of ignoring Dav and his five-man team.

Bondo, Norrin and Slak seemed relaxed. Dav had just heard about their run-in with Freddik, and knew word of it was already burning up the gossip lines among the cadets.

Dav had to chuckle. He hadn’t had a chance to sit down and hear it from Bondo himself, yet. Then again, he’d been a little more concerned with talking to Jada. She was looking more...not exactly focused. More like obsessed. Ever since her talk with Bast she had been looking off into space or at data readouts. And all she could talk about were specs on the fighters or how evil the rebels were.

Still waiting for Bast, he leaned over to her. “So,” he said, “whadja think about lunch today? The worst or what?”

“I didn’t think about it at all,” she said, looking at the holo-map in the center of the table. “I was too busy thinking about the bomber. Did you know the TIE-SAs we’ll be flying in can carry a total of four proton bombs? All we’re really going to need here is one to take out most bases and immobilize them. But we’re going to be sitting ducks if the fighters don’t do their job. The SA is an excellent surface assault machine, but it’s not very maneuverable.”

“Um, yeah, Jada. That’s probably why they have one person piloting and another dropping the payload. When did you get so interested in the SAs?”

“Since I found out we’re going to be in one. Do you know just how many rebels we could kill, if we stay properly on target?”

The door whoshed open. “Room!” someone shouted, and everyone jumped to attention in their seats as Commodore Bast entered.

“At ease,” Bast said without pausing as he walked to the table. “Gentlemen,” he said, without any apology or acknowledgement of Jada, “our target today is a lightly defended Rebel outpost. It is a military target which, our intelligence assures us, has been the staging post for a number of attacks upon our more loyal systems, as well as the recent attempt on life of an Imperial personage that lead to the deaths of several of our cadets.

“Pilots, this will be a short, quick operation. Normally cadets would not be included in such a venture. But Lord Vader, whose life was saved in part through the quick thinking and able leadership of Lieutenants Solo and Hublin, specifically directed that the cadets would be not only included in this retaliatory strike, but would lead and pilot the B-28 Surface Assault Bombers to be used in this mission.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“How many bombers, sir?” said one of the older pilots.

“Two,” Bast said. “Honoring the request of Cadet Sanddancer, Lord Vader gave Sanddancer leave to lead the bombing raid. As such, she can designate the bomber crew in her group. As for her own crew of two, she elected to be in the payload position, and for cadet Eccles to be her pilot. She further selected Cadets Mek and Crasna to pilot and drop payload on the second bomber, and the rest of us will escort them and ensure their safety on the way to the target. Cadet Daggart will fly in support position in a TIE fighter, as will Lieutenant Solo and the assembled members of Black Sword Squadron. As commander of his wing, Lieutenant Hublin will fly a TIE Interceptor, as will the secondary support squad commander. Are there any questions?”

Dav looked at the other pilots in the room. They were seated at the table close to one another, their eyes fixed in a relaxed way on Bast. It was a look Dav had seen more than once, the way professional slingball players had looked at him and other school-sport stars; looks of tolerant indulgence, but no actual respect.

They don’t respect Bast, Dav realized. They’ll take orders, but they’re better than he is, and they and Bast all know it.

Dav blinked. It was a new experience for him to realize that, one day, he would exceed the abilities and achievements of an authority figure.

“Yes,” said one pilot, who appeared to be in his mid-forties with graying temples. “Who exactly is this Lord Vader, and why does he suddenly have enough authority to have us fly around with a bunch of younglings? Keeping your own crew alive up there is hard enough when the lasers start flying. But now we have to babysit pilots barely out of their thumbsucking years, too?”

The door slid open. Vader walked in.

Everyone fell silent.

#

“Hell of a way to end a career,” Slak said out of the side of his mouth as they walked quietly down the corridor.

“Hell of a way to end a life,” Dav said as they turned the corner, going in the opposite direction from the seasoned pilots. When the one they called Vader had entered the room, Dav almost crawled under the table in fear. Vader had then raised his hand, and the pilot who’d spoken had started choking. Then gagging. Then he’d fallen from the table to his knees, clawing at his throat and looking at Bast pleadingly.

Dav and the rest of his crew had wanted to throw up, crawl in a hole and die rather than stay another minute willingly in that room as the spectacle played itself out.

The pilot had only lived because Bast had ordered Vader to stop- something about destroying a valuable asset in the coming mission.

Still, it was one more upset in a day filled with upsets and events, most of which they all wanted

“If we’re lucky, we’ll end a few rebel lives.” Jada said behind them. “That’s all that matters in the end,”

“You’re on a real kick against them lately,” Slack said. “How come you’ve gotta work killing rebels into every conversation?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, and slipped into her room.

“Lucky thing, gets her own room,” Norrin said.

“She’s not so lucky,” Bondo said.

“What?” Norrin said. “Sure, she’s lucky. She doesn’t have to share a bunk with a big lug like you, the way I do.”

“It’s not…” Bondo began.

“Seriously? You twitch, Bondo, and the whole drekking room shakes. Sometimes it’s easier for me to get a decent sleep if I lay on the floor.”

“I mean,” Bondo said, annoyance creeping into his voice, “she’s not lucky. Something’s hurt her, inside. Something about the rebels.”

Dav paused, walking more slowly. Unconsciously, the rest of the group slowed, too. “You think it’s about Porkins, or S’Vip?” he said.

“Nah,” Slak said. “Bondo’s right. She wasn’t particularly close to either of them, or Gaab. And she’s been like this since after their funeral, not before. It’s something else.”

“Hope it doesn’t affect her performance,” Dav said. “The last thing we need is to look bad in front of the real pilots back there.”

“One of those pilots angered that Vader character enough he almost stopped breathing, let alone flying,” Slak said. “I don’t care if they like or respect us; I just care if they’re going to cover us enough keep us from sucking vacuum.”

“They know how to do that, Slak. They all do.”

“I know they know how to do that. Will do that? That’s the problem.”

#

TO BE CONTINUED...