Norrin stared at his screen as Bondo’s steady hands held and moved the steering controls. Despite knowing that he’d never have to see his targets as they died in the vacuum of space, and having been through the sims time and again where he’d blasted his enemies to realistic-looking smithereens and his hologames for years before that, Norrin was nervous. He pushed thoughts of his enemies’ suffering away. They were Rebels, he told himself. They’d killed or caused the death of Gaad’s family, and thus had been responsible for Gaad snapping and killing Porkins and S’Vip as well.
“Fighter approaching,” Solo said, his voice surprisingly calm over the comlink. “Atmo’s jamming scanners. It’s either one big one or a tight group of three, moving in slow.”
“I’m on it!” Slak said, revving his engine in preparation for a fight.
“No you’re not Black Three,” Hublin said. “You and I will take them on. Keep tight formation, and maybe we’ll survive. Bombers, stay close as we take these little upstarts on. Don’t break away; they may have more surprises up ahead. Black Four, you’re our tech reader in addition to being our bombardier. Are you scanning anything else down there that could hit us?”
“No sir,” Norrin said. “In fact, it’s surprisingly clear. In the sims we were told to look for…”
“That’s enough, Black Four. Here’s our new friend…what the…”
What broke through the cloud cover was no fighter that any of them had ever seen. Even a green youngling who’d only ever seen fighters on holovids would have recognized this as a freighter, a glorified transport air-truck with a number of weapons retro-fitted to its hull. It was a clever attempt to make do with what they had, but this was no fighter. Not the kind of thing seen on a military base.
“Die, rebel scum!” Jada screamed through her comlink, launching a reserve missile that would normally not be launched unless the fighter escort were shot down or somehow rendered ineffective.
“Black Two!” Solo barked, “What the blazes are you…”
The small torpedo found its mark on the lumbering opponent, blasting a hole in its side and making a plume of black smoke trail behind it as it slowly dropped down back through the thin atmosphere of the small planetoid below.
“Black Two,” Hublin said, “that was a total breach of protocol. Lucky for you we’re being hit by light jammers, so the Adeptus and Grey Wing didn’t catch that little stunt of yours. I could have you in the Grey Room for that! Worse than the Grey room! Do you realize that?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Yes, Sir,” Jada said.
“Good shot, though,” Solo said. “No more of those, though. No surprises. We’ve broken atmosphere, and approaching target.”
The planetoid had a surprising amount of gravity for its size, holding onto enough atmosphere to keep a cloud cover and mottled blue-black sky as they neared the surface.
“ETA four-point-five minutes,” Hublin’s voice sounded calm in their ears. “Remember, people, no heroes. Stick close to Black Sub-leader and me. Fly over, drop payload, go home and Bludrinks on me.”
“Black Leader?” said Norrin’s voice over the comm, “Sir? Something’s wrong!”
“Is this serious, Black Four?”
“Sir, these readings don’t make sense. Grey Squadron just finished wiping the skies with another one of those fake-fighters, and the energy readings here aren’t consistent with any military base I’ve encountered in the sims. There are no shields, and no anti-air guns.”
“So we’ve got an easy run, Black Four. Get to the part where this is a problem.”
“Sir, There’s just droids, domes, diggers and fields. I think we have the wrong target, sir. We’re about to bomb a class three mining and farming colony. This isn’t a rebel base. This is a farm, sir! It’s a farm!”
Jada paused. She’d been waiting to drop the photon bombs, itching to cause the kind of pain to the rebels that they’d caused her when she’d learned of her family’s death.
But this was a farm…
She heard a number of whistles and chirps as Rex beeped excitedly into her helmet from atop Norrin’s bomber. “Not now, droid,” she said, trying to focus. Hard enough to see through the eyes in these helmets without the distraction of a droid trying to be heard. Sometimes it was like an annoying child tugging at your…
Suddenly, and her scanner, a picture appeared. Somehow Rex had logged into one of the farm’s (no! Not a farm! Not a farm! It was a military rebel outpost, tanjit!) security pylons, and given Jada a closeup of the people herding onto some ship in a pathetic attempt to evacuate and escape.
A child broke away from his mother in the group. Broke away and ran into one of the fields, pointing up at the sky. Jada could see him mouth the words ‘look! Look!’ as he watched something in the air…
Jada kept watching the hacked camera as she drew closer, unaware of the tears running down her face. Someone grabbed the child- his mother, presumably, and ran back to the lineup of shabbily dressed people trying to squeeze onto the transport…transport?
“Irrelevant, Black Four. These may not be military, but intelligence says they are collaborators. Whoever they are, we have our orders, and…”
“Rule Two-Thirty-Four!” Dav blurted out.
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TO BE CONTINUED....