Short description: The Silver Sabers prepare for an attack just before the Battle of Endor. Copyright disclaimer: Star Wars and its related entities upon which this story is based are the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. The unique characters and scenario of this non-profit story belong to Simon Lee (shl10@cornell.edu). EVE OF BATTLE MON CALAMARI CRUISER _VORTEX_ ALLIANCE FLEET STAGING AREA 1A53, DEEP SPACE TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF ENDOR "...you have any idea what this is about?" "...word is that we're going on a major offensive." "...why are we out in the middle of nowhere?" "...there's supposed to be a lost Republic weapons research facility out here." "...I heard that KDY's got some new cruiser that..." Commander Madiol allowed the chatter to go on for a few seconds longer, then brought the lights down in the briefing amphitheater, signaling to the assembled pilots that he was ab- out to begin. The room quieted agreeably and Madiol, chafing in the officer's dress uniform that the Admiral had "suggested" he wear, surveyed two hundred pairs of eyes staring back at him, took a breath, and started talking. "The Imperial shipyard at Ulfizi contains a Seinar Fleet Systems R&D lab which plays a major role in their work on ion engines." On cue, a holo of the yard appeared behind him on the amphitheater's curving rear wall. "Our mission is to attack the yard and shut this lab down." There was an instant murmur of concern in the pilots' ranks. Two hundred pairs of eyes bobbed and glanced amongst themselves. "The yard is defended by an outer perimeter of Golan II battle stations along the major approach vectors, and these two Golan IIIs sit alongside the research platform. In addition to smaller emplacements and minefields scattered throughout the yard, we estimate that up to forty capital ships--at least one quarter of which are Star Destroyers--may be in the yard at any given time. Fighter strength is estimated at six wings, five of eyeballs and one of Interceptors, plus anything that the docked vessels may be carrying." Out of the ensuing chorus of disbelief rose the deep, boom- ing voice of an alien Madiol did not recognize. "And how are we expected to succeed?" "This will be a straight-up attack," Madiol answered, as if he had not heard the question. "The heavy capital ships of this task force will engage the perimeter defenses while our fight- ers, escorted by a screen of gunships and light cruisers, will directly assault the shipyard. Additional fighter support, ap- proximately two wings, will be arriving shortly to complement our strength." As Madiol expected, no one was made any happier by that in- formation. "This is like Padriaki VII all over again," muttered one B-wing pilot, referring to another recent shipyard raid that had produced a marginal success at best. Madiol held up a hand. "If the information we have is cor- rect, there will be a slight window between the departure of two of the Impstars in the yard and the arrival of more vessels. We will time our approach to make use of this gap...which gives you until 0600 tomorrow morning to get ready. "Until now, the simulator runs you've been using have only hinted at the nature of the operation. The full details will be sent to your individual squadron commanders after this briefing, but in short, there won't be anything exceedingly unusual-- the A- and X-wing squadrons will be split between interception and close support duties for the bombers. The B-wings will con- centrate on fire suppression while the Y-wings drive on to the target area and release their payload. Some of you will be de- livering concussion bomb ordnance, and will have to adjust your flight profiles accordingly." There was another grumble from the bomber pilots about hav- ing to haul the heavy, inertia-building penetrator bombs. "You'll be doing most of the damage to the target, so don't look so depressed," Madiol pointed out. "And that's all--we're just going in to destroy the facility, nothing fancy. We get in, get out, fly on. "Any questions?" The short, dark-haired eighteen-year-old youngster who had recently joined his squadron raised a hand and spoke. "Which fighter squadrons are we up against?" Lieutenant Rhiescu asked. Madiol didn't think that anyone would enjoy his next answer either. *What did I do to get the Admiral to 'suggest' that I give this briefing? Turning down the promotion to Wing Command- er?* "Several crack squadrons, including the 4720, 317, and 239th, have been sighted in the area with their parent vessels. Remember that the 317th has recently upgraded to Interceptors." The Y-wing pilots seemed particularly displeased with that news. "Is there anything else?" "Yeah...I'd like my vacation now, please." Madiol ignored the pilot who had said that, concentrating instead on Rhiescu, who was quietly scribbling a note on her datapad, seemingly taking the news that they were going to run up against the Empire's finest in stride. The pilots continued to confer amongst themselves, now ig- noring Madiol to varying degrees. "Work with each other, people, and we can do this. We're not going to win the war picking the easy jobs. Dismissed." "Top squadrons," Rhiescu commented, half to herself. Captain Hajan, who was sitting next to Rhiescu in the mess hall, observed that Rhiescu was...almost *pleased* with that in- formation. "Like a challenge, huh, kid?" His blue eyes flashed briefly with memories of dogfights past. Rhiescu nodded. "Oh, give me rookies any day," declared Lieutenant Cermak, shaking his head and sipping a small glass of something red and probably alcoholic--in violation of a number of regulations. The tall officer might have been describing either the Imperials or Rhiescu with his comment. "Um...even if the Imperials have more pilots, it still takes them a considerable amount of time and resources to bring them up to combat standards," Rhiescu pointed out. "What about *us*?" retorted Flight Officer Oryb in Sullus- tan. "The Alliance shouldn't be casting us out into the wind like this." Hajan folded his arms across his chest. "Hey, now, let's cut the "we're all gonna die" talk--now. It's not going to help us out there." "We can handle them," Rhiescu piped up again. "Sure, kid," mumbled Cermak. Madiol, who was normally not a water being, found himself near the _Vortex's_ pool. The place was popular with many of the other species aboard the ship, particularly, it seemed, the Calamari and Humans. Madiol spotted Lieutenant Kazais near the pool and decided to head over to him. The human, clad in short swim trunks, was dangling his feet in the water. Madiol recalled that Kazais's homeworld was 90% covered by surface water. "Thinking of home?" Kazais jumped a bit, startled. "Yes sir." He cupped a hand in the water, filtered and reprocessed as it was, and held it up to eye level. "Ever take a long, hard look at something that reminds you of home and wonder if you'll ever live to see it again?" Madiol caught the reflection of his dark red eyes in the water, then it rippled and went away. "Often, Lieutenant." "Think this is one of those times, sir?" Madiol dropped to his haunches. "Might actually be every time, Novi. I've lost a lot of people to this war. But... I always try to think that I, and everyone I know, will make it through just one more mission--and we'll be one step closer to the end of all this." Kazais stared back out over the water. "Thanks, sir. I do want to see home again." "So do I, Lieutenant." "Captain." Hajan turned his head at the sound of Madiol's voice and stopped in the corridor. "Ortic?" Madiol bowed his head apologetically. "Just wondering how you felt..." Hajan pressed his lips together. "I'm tired of hearing the gloom-and-doom talk, sir." "Afraid you'll believe it yourself?" Madiol asked. Hajan smirked. "You know a lot about human nature, Com- mander." "Nothing I've not felt myself." "Yeah. Been thinking about Harila, sir?" "You know me well, too, Ice." Madiol glanced at his boots. "They'll be fine, Ortic," Hajan concluded. "'Get in, get out, fly on,'" he quoted. "Just like the old days." Madiol smiled, remembering earlier times in a better light. "Thanks, Ice." "As always, sir." Rhiescu popped the simulator's hatch and stepped out of the pod. She was surprised to find Hajan standing in front of her. "Oh...hello, sir." She gave him a deferential nod. Hajan noticed the slight sheen of sweat on her brow, and the traces of powder on her hands, which held a well-worn pair of flying gloves. "Good run, Lieutenant?" Rhiescu smiled, a very slight creasing of the corners of her mouth. "Ah, yes, Captain. I was thinking up a few things that we might run into tomorrow." Hajan peered into the dark cavity of the simulator pod. "Any revelations?" Rhiescu glanced back there as well. "It'll be tough, sir." She turned away from the pod and made an entry on her datapad. "Not impossible, though. I really should talk to my flight..." Hajan nodded. He knew that Rhiescu was blessed with steely nerves and maturity beyond her eighteen years, but he also knew that she *was* still only eighteen and that it was the nine more years of real experience under the gun that separated her from him...however talented she was. He just didn't know if she was fully prepared to face such a challenge. *Maybe it's better that she doesn't really know what she's getting into out there.* "Good idea, uh...Giana, is it?" "Yes sir." She pulled her shoulder-length hair, which she had let down to air out after the simulator run, back into a ponytail. She was suddenly so *different,* so reserved, from the bravado she'd displayed in the mess hall... *All business.* He fumbled around for words. *Uhhhhhh....* "Everything's all right, Giana? You seem kind of... quiet." Again, there was a hint of a smile. "I'm fine, sir." "Don't forget to get some rest, Lieutenant." She nodded and seemed to edge away from him. "Thank you for reminding me." "So there I was, holding no less than five thousand, when the local constabulary comes bursting in." Vdren picked up an- other card for himself and observed, with well-hidden displeas- ure, his Commander of Coins turn into a Five of Flasks. Hajan laughed, threw a sabacc card back onto the table. "So then what did you do?" The Lafrarian held up his cards in both hands and made a tossing gesture. "Chaff." "You just threw *five thousand* right in their faces?" ask- ed Lieutenant Myndu, who kept all of his cards. "Well, I also threw myself out the back window, right be- fore they started shooting." "Ah, another classic Siel Vdren card game," Madiol chuck- led. "Well, nobody told *me* that gambling was illegal on the whole blasted planet--it didn't seem that way when we got off the shuttle." "It *is* one of those things you should check out first," reminded Hajan. He put his cards down. "By the way, I win." The other three glanced at his hand of the Idiot, a Two of Staves, and a Three of Coins. Hajan smiled and scooped up the pot. "You're getting better at not gloating," Madiol observed, collecting the cards. And thus they started another game in the observation room overlooking the fighter hangar. Dear Mom and Dad, I miss you. It's another night before another mission, and more than ever before I wish I you could be here with me. I've done everything you've taught me to, trained myself to be ready for whatever the Imperials throw at me, but this time I can only hope that it will be enough--that sheer numbers and a lucky shot won't take me from you. I remember what you've told me about knowing your own mortality--but to tell the truth, I don't think I've ever confronted myself about it until now, on the eve of what seemingly everyone thinks could be their last flight ever. And I'm more than just a little scared too. Perhaps I'll just have to deal with it the way you've told me--in my own way. Thank you for all that you've taught me--I will remem- ber to use it. Tell Maricica that I love her. Until I see you again... Love, Giana Rhiescu coded the message for sending, then committed it to the Alliance's carefully-regulated internal communications sys- tem. *With luck they'll receive it not long after we get back.* "Whenever that is," she said to herself. There was a quiet chime at the hatch. Shutting off her terminal, she opened the hatch to find Captain Hajan. "Hi, Lieutenant. I was wondering if you needed anything--" "I'm fine, sir." She frowned at herself. "Well...um, ac- tually..." Hajan shifted his feet. "Yes?" "I was wondering if you would give me a hug, sir." He did. Madiol surveyed the eleven pilots arrayed before him in the observation room. His pilots appeared fairly well-rested, calm, and prepared. *Good crew.* "He looks like he's going to give a speech," Cermak quip- ped. "Are you ready?" he asked. "YES SIR!" "Then let's get moving, everyone." The next few minutes occurred with the precise scripting that only constant repetition allowed. The pilots put on their flight gear while the flight crews prepared the A-wings for launch, then the pilots headed out to their craft. "Remember, first kill buys the rest of us a round," Hajan told the others. "We've got to change that around," Vdren replied. "It's a wonder we shoot anyone down at all." There was a short burst of laughter, a needed tension re- lease as the Silver Sabers strapped into their fighters. "Starter charge--primed. Reactor started and stable." "Umbilicals disconnected." Each pilot watched for the wave from their crew chief. "Engines started, idle speed." "Life support system--check." "Main computer--check." "Nav system--check, coordinate preset loaded." "Master arm switch--safe." "IFF code switch--check." Oddly enough, the hangar bay doors did not open. They waited. "13th Squadron here, what's the hold?" Madiol asked over the command channel. The reply came through crisp and clear over several hundred headsets, earpieces, and comm units. "All craft, stand down from alert status. Mission has been scrubbed." "Excuse me?" someone sputtered. "The mission's been scrubbed," repeated the voice of the Admiral. "Commanding officers report to the main briefing room for further details. Everyone else--stand down." Rhiescu let out a long breath, took off her helmet, and started to flip switches in the opposite direction from just minutes before. Kazais was shaking. Cermak gave the control panel a short punch, then smiled broadly to himself. Oryb looked confused. Myndu's laughter was audible over the roar of engines. Hajan, Vdren, and Madiol got out of their cockpits as a unit and headed for the command center. "I didn't set this up," Madiol told them. "We'll kill you if you did," Vdren replied. Madiol stood in front of his assembled pilots again. "No, they didn't tell us why they scrubbed the mission, just that you won't have to worry about it anymore. Go ahead and speculate, but not too much--we do have new orders, us and most of this task force." "Where, sir?" Kazais asked unnecessarily. "Sullust, actually." Oryb continued to look confused. "Maybe I'll get to see my family," he finally said. "Nothing quite like the kind, caring Alliance," Myndu said. "What can possibly be happening at Sullust?" Cermak won- dered. "I'm sure we'll find out." THE END