“Sixty seconds to target window,” said the targeting computer in their helmets.

“Black Two, this is Black Sub-Leader,” it was Solo’s voice through the right ear in her helmet, his voice unchanged from the calm it had been all mission. They all realized quickly it was becasue he hadn’t seen the transmission Norrin had just shared with them on the secure channel. “Jada, these readings are not consistent with a military target. you don’t have to do this. I think we need to rethink our strategy. Black One?”

“Sir!” said Dav.

“Black One, Black Five, turn your bombers around. I’m ordering a return to the Adeptus, and a…”

“You belay that order, Black Black One and Black Five! Repeat, belay that order! Sanddancer, do you hear me?” yelled Hublin through the other, left side of her helmet. “I’m a tad busy here, true,” he said, the strain of talking and engaging in combat showing through in his voice, “but I expect you to follow orders, or I’ll shoot you down myself just as Solo shot down Gaab. Do you understand? Hesitation is tantamount to treason, cadet Sanddancer, and won’t be tolerated.”

“Fifty seconds to target window,” said the calm, annoying voice of the targeting computer.

“Jada, listen to me,” Solo said, “they can’t hear us on either the Adeptus or even above us where the Grey squadron is busy. These people are unsophisticated farmers- their jamming technology only extends to this elevation. If you turn around, I’ll handle Hublin. We’ll figure something out. If you kill innocent people, it’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life. I’ve seen it in people who…”

“Forty seconds to target window.”

“Jada,” said Dav, “Solo told you to stand down. Take your hands off the trigger, and I’ll pull us up and out of here. But I can’t break off the run unless you disarm that bomb; it’s set to go off at certain altitudes and temperatures, and if we’re not where we’re supposed to be…well, there’ve been cases where bombs’ve gone off inside the ships. Jada, you have to disarm, now.”

“Thirty seconds to target window.”

“Dav, shut up!”

It was Slak.

“No, you shut up, Slak. I’m Flight Senior, and…”

“That just means the teacher left you in charge if he goes to the bathroom. So shut up. Jada, drop the damn thing, alright? The Empire’s not perfect, but how do you know you can trust a droid? Since when do droids hack classified Empire holotapes? Norrin, are you involved in this? Is this another one of your pranks?”

“Twenty seconds to target window.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Norrin said. “I’m just flying backup. If Jada botches this job, I’m dropping my load.”

“No, you’re not,” said Bondo.

“What?”

“I’m your pilot. That bomb’s not armed yet, and we’re not set for an attack run. As soon as Solo gives the order direct, we’re going back. Someone’s made a mistake here. I- I will not kill innocents just to get a job done. That’s not what I came here for.”

“Ten seconds.”

Hublin: “Black Two, you will follow your orders and drop those bombs!”

“Nine,”

Solo: “Jada, don’t do it. Disarm and let Dav fly you back. I’ll take any heat for this, and…”

“Eight,”

Slak: “Jada! Do your job, and stop making the rest of us look bad!”

“Seven,”

Norrin: “Jada, just follow orders. It’s on Hublin, not you.”

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“Six,”

Bondo: “Jada, please don’t do this. It’s wrong, and you know it.”

“Five,”

“Dav?” Jada said, more tears beginning. “Dav? What do I do?”

“Four,”

Dav: “Push three little buttons to disarm the bombs, Jada. Or even…”

“Three,”

“…do nothing! Say there was a malfunction!”

“Two,”

“Norrin could…”

“One,”

“…change the records!”

“Target window entered. Drop payload now.”

“Focus, young one! Use your hate to focus.” shouted another voice.

And when she realized that it was not from her radio but instead inside her head, she blinked, started in her seat, and…

Her hand had already squeezed the trigger.

#

A buzzer sounded in her and Dav’s helmets as the bomb dropped out of the holding bay.

“It’s away-NO!” she said, the phrase set after dozens of repetitions in the sims of dropping bombs, swooping through enclosed spaces, and firing blasters at small targets.

“Payload released.Fifteen seconds to impact.”

“Blast,” Solo said, his fighter swooping down in an attempt to chase the bomb on its deadly journey. “Daggart, get down here. Argue and I’ll...”

“...shoot me yourself. Yes, sir! Understood, sir!” Slak said, goosing his engines and swooping down after him. “Don’t worry Jada. You’re in the clear, now. We’ll fix this...”

“Daggart,” Solo barked.

“Sir?”

“That bomb’s heat activated to make it more accurate. We’re going to get in front and lure it away.”

“Risky. I like it, sir!”

“Shut up and let’s do this.”

“fourteen seconds,” said the targeting computer.

“Jada, Dav,” Solo again, “go up and meet Bondo and Norrin in the holding pattern above.”

“Sir, I…” Jada began.

“It’s okay, Sandflea. We’ll talk later. But you’re fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dav climbed his fighter back to the height that Bando and Norrin were circling at. Meanwhile, Slak and Solo continued their mini-mission.

“Okay, Slak, get about a quarter-mile to my right. I’m going to blast my engines, and bring it your way, You do the same, and we’ll had this off like it was a gravball.”

“Yes, Si-“

“Go!”

Slak acted instead of trying to answer a second time. Solo flew his TIE fighter in front of the bomb as it hurtled to the ground, angling his fighter to match the descent while trying to maintain the distance from the falling missile.

“Sir…” Slak said, his voice patchy and shaking a bit from the strain of trying to maintain the proper distance while matching the rate of descent.

“Just like staying in a hive formation when you’re breaking atmo, Slak,” Solo said. “You can do this. You’re a Corellian. Just think of it like you’re trying to smooth talk some Zeltroni female.”

At that, Slak’s shoulders suddenly loosened and his brow unfurled.

“Yes, Sir!” Slak said, suddenly enthusiastic.

#

High above, the five pilots of Grey Squadron finished dispatching the last of the colony’s defenders.

“Looks like they sent us on another easy-pickings run, Grey Leader,” said one pilot over his comlink.

“I hope I don’t hear any complaints, Grey Four,” the leader said curtly. “Unless you need a re-do of that little run on Memba-5?”

All were silent. The fighting on that planet had been fierce; intelligence had missed a series of anti-fighter defenses hidden in the mountains. Half their forces were shot down before they’d known what hit them, and everyone had lost friends that day.

“What’s happening with the rookies down there?” said Grey Three.

“No idea,” answered Grey Leader, “while those Rebs haven’t got anti-air worth a melted ducat coin, they seem to have gotten ahold of a decent set of jammers.”

“Looks like this isn’t military, Grey Leader,” said Grey Five. His tone was unconcerned; he could have been disagreeing about the color of a house seen on a trip.

Grey Leader said, “So?”

No one responded. They’d been counting rebel, sympathizer and civilian kills since Memba-4 to make up for the pilots lost that day.

“Let’s investigate,” said Grey Leader. “Those thumbsuckers should have been done and back up here by now.”

His fighter swooped down through the cloud cover, and into the jamming field.

#

...TO BE CONTINUED...