Recreational Area

Reading Room

POV: Dreams and Memories (IV)

A voice from the past

By Michael Stauber

"Probe has entered hyperspace, ETA to Twin Sun’s 2 hours 42 minutes.", Torpedo said and glanced over to Shok’wave.

"Good. Bridge, do you copy? Is our course laid in? If so, prepare for the jump at your discretion.", she said and leaned against the holo-projector table, studying the star chart carefully.

Avery glanced up from her wrist computer and smiled at Moose, who just entered CIC, trailed by Solo, White Squadron’s newest addition to the training win.

"All fighters are fully armed and ready and I briefed the others on what’s going on. So we all agree upon that we’re just reckon in force and see what’s going on before we make our move?"

Shok’wave made a sour face upon Moose’s usage of "we all agree upon", but she decided to let it go for the moment and just nodded her approval. Her eyes went wide when the Joan d’Arc suddenly started to shudder under her feet, as if something large had hit her into the flanks. The holo-projector emitted several sparks and a cloud of smoke, then all lights went off and total darkness surrounded them. Sherry grabbed hard for the rail of the projector, as the artificial gravity went out as well and she started to float. Screams of surprise and curses surrounded her in the darkness, as the others pilots came under the same effect.

Something blocky slammed into her shoulder and Shok’s couldn’t tell whether it was someone or something, but fortunately they impact drove them both into opposite directions. She had to move hand over hand to maintain her grip on the rail that she was holding on to. As she was holding on to the rail she noticed that there wasn’t the slightest vibration, nor was there any noticeable machinery sound, which was more than odd. Normally the vast amount of equipment needed to operate a star ship like this generated a steady background noise, which you tended to overhear after a while. Which made the sudden silence more than uncomfortable.

"Damage report!", she shouted and tried to remain calm, knowing that whatever had hit the Joan d’Arc had left her mortally wounded and dead in space.

Finally the long smear of stars outside the turned into sharp pinpoints again as the Star Destroyer emerged from hyperspace. Vice Admiral Garner knew it was a risk to leave most of the strike force and even a good chunk of their fighter support behind, but he had not gotten this far in the Imperial Navy without taking a considerable, controlled risk or two in all those years. Then again, he couldn’t help but to feel relieved when one of the Bridge officers announced that a Rebel Frigate - and it could be no other than the one that their probe had discovered earlier - was almost dead ahead.

"Distance to target?", Garner asked and his face turned into a sour expression when the figure was presented.

"That far away? It’ll take our fighters at least 35 minutes to get into attack position."

The ISD’s Captain made half a step towards his superior officer and eagerly said: "I’m sure they’ll make it in less time." Then he turned around and yelled: "Red Alert! Launch all fighters and prepare to engage the Rebel Forces."

"Admiral!", one of the Bridge officers at the main sensor screens shouted and Vice Admiral Garner tried to hide his amusement, when he noticed how the two other officers close to the one who had called for him made their best effort to make themselves invisible. Whatever it was, he hoped this Lieutenant had a good excuse for interrupting him in his thoughts!

"What is it, Lieutenant?", Garner growled.

The Officer swallowed hard before he made his report. "It looks like the targeted Frigate has a massive malfunction. Sensors pick up only very low energy readings and no offensive or defensive armament is online. Looks like she’s drifting dead in space, Sir!"

The Vice Admiral checked the sensors himself and exclaimed: "What the hell ...?"

But then he felt a cold chill, or odd sensation on his back and turned around, almost bumping into a cloaked figure whose presence he had not noticed before. He could swear that this stealthy guy had not been there a moment before, but then again, you never get used to the presence and odd behavior of the Emperor’s closest servants, as he admitted to himself with a trace of envy.

"I think I can explain, Vice Admiral.", the figure said with slowly pronounced syllables and gestured him further away from the preying ears that surrounded them on the bridge.

Drifting in the darkness Psycho and Granite uttered curses from their respective homeplanets, even though that Psycho had to admit that the Caladanian ones were a lot more colorful. All the communications equipment as well as lights, life support and artificial gravity – even the coffeemaker right beside the door – had gone out. In total darkness and vertigo of floating around in zero gravity Stephen managed to pull out his ancient gasoline lighter and flicked it until the small flame appeared. He thumbed the dial to turn the flame brighter and looked at Owen, who seemed to have lost a lot of facial color in the last minute, but then again, in the dim light Stephen couldn’t be sure of that.

"Cool. Next time you have a great idea like that, don’t wake me up, ok?", Psycho mumbled.

Somehow Granite had managed to grab the communications console and he pulled himself closer to Psycho, who then grabbed the Caldanian’s leg and could thrust himself to one of the handholds close to the main computer core.

"So what the hell was that anyway?", Owen asked, once he had gathered enough of his wits to make a reply.

Psycho ripped one maintenance panel on the main computer open and sent it drifting into the room, while he poked his head inside the opening. His reply was kind of muffled and damped, while he examined the interior of the computer with his lighter and his Mark Two eyeballs.

"Some kind of new Imperial Countermeasure against hacker’s like us. I heard rumors that something like that was in development and here we have the proof. Just before the lights went out I noticed that somebody had traced us and I was about to cut the connection down." With a sigh he added: "Apparently it was already too late."

The Caldanian tried to shrug without losing his grip on the console and as a result he almost bumped into Psycho.

"Uuh ... but even if they toasted our main computer, why didn’t the backup systems kick in? Hell, live support and artificial gravity are independent systems with separate power supply and control circuits.", he added knowingly.

Meanwhile Psycho had found what he had been looking for and pulled one of the plug in cards out of it’s rack and readjusted several jumpers on it, trying hard not to make rapid movements to prevent to drift off, while he had both hands in use for this task.

"Yeah, that’s right. But there is an override mode and this systems can be patched permanently to the main computer. That’s what we did when we took over the Joan from the Empire and some of the original crew tried to flood the bridge with sleeping gas. Either we forgot to reverse the changes, or the virus switched it back."

"Can you repair it?", Granite asked, while placed both feet on the console that he was hanging onto and realigned himself towards the half closed door which was leading to the main corridor.

Psycho mumbled something which sounded like he wasn’t sure yet, but then again, as far as Granite could tell Stephen was just too focussed on his repair attempt to pay attention to his question. So he decided to see how the rest of the crew were doing and launched himself towards the door with a carefully powered thrust of his legs. He couldn’t help but he had the odd sensation that the next few minutes would decide the fate of White Squadron.

In the close confines of his cockpit Vyper had a lot to worry about, especially now, with his A-Wing under control of the nav-computer and with nothing else to do. As usual he had tried to empty his mind and to meditate, as he usually did before entering a battle zone, when time and circumstances permitted. But this time it was different and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t totally empty his mind. Pictures and images of Sandra appeared before his half closed eyes, along with feint memories and fantasies. His heart seemed to burst and he wondered how he had managed to stay alive for so long without the constant presence of this lovely woman. Not a single day had passed since this memorable week back then, that he hadn’t though of her, even though he had been sure that she’d be gone forever. But now she had returned and that changed everything and for the first time since a very long while the future looked very bright and promising again. And with that came the sense of belonging, the sense of homecoming an something else he couldn’t place. A subdue feeling that he had not felt since his early youth and it took him a long while to figure out what it was.

It was fear.

He couldn’t dismiss this thought easily and after a while he admitted that for the first time in his service time with the Alliance he went into a battle with fear. Fear of losing Sandra in the dangers that lay ahead of them, fear of endangering his friend Dario and fear of finding death himself, now that he again had found a reason to live, something that made live worthwhile. There were still so many things that he wanted to say, wanted to do and wanted to come true and maybe the battle ahead would put a permanent end to all his high hopes for the bright and promising future that lay ahead.

He thought of his friend Dario and Michael knew first hand how much his friend had to lose. Thinking of his beloved wife Marife, who was leading the local resistance cell back home at Iberya. As far as Michael knew both hadn’t seen each other in a year and while White Squadron had flown a lot of dangerous, wasteful and sometimes even impossible missions, his friend Dario had always kept the faith, never shied away from the dangers. Dario had so much to lose and despite that he had followed him onto this chase that would lead them all between the open jaws of the best the Empire had to offer.

Again and again his thoughts circled around this matter, but then he found a string to pull himself out of this troubled waters. "Just be yourself!", she had said. And that was what he was going to do. Michael took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He felt better. After another breath and slowly letting it go he felt that the worries broke away like an egg shell which had gotten too small for him to fit into. Again he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing while he thought of Sandra’s lovely face and the sensational warmth of relaxation flooded his limbs.

Now he was ready for whatever was laying ahead. And just in time, because the nav-computer beeped three times to indicate that the destination would be reached in 30 seconds. Time for a last check of the instruments. They were still on course and in formation, with the Blastboat in the lead and the two A-Wing’s escorting it on it’s wingtips. All systems were ready, lasers and shields fully charged.

The nav-computer issued a final acoustic warning, then the elongated stars snapped back into place as all three ships entered normal space. At once the sensors sprung online and within an eyeblink the screens filled with hostile echo’s and return signals. But Michael had no time for checking the sensors, because a blocky, massive piece of steel blocked the path of his racing A-Wing. He saw the Blastboat pulling up hard, almost crashing it’s starboard wing into Dario’s A-Wing as it did so and without hesitating any longer Michael pulled back the stick as well, while he kicked the right pedal with as much strength as he could muster.

He almost plunged into the antenna on top of the Carrack Cruiser as he rushed past it, expecting it to open fire at him and his friends any minute. He looked around, found Dario and joined up on his wing, trailing the Blastboat as it sped towards an even larger target dead ahead. The Factory Station!

Vyper tried to get a picture of their surrounding, worrying where the Eyeballs, Gunboats and Interceptors where. He counted at least a half a dozen Frigates, two Carrack Cruisers, a bunch of Corvettes and Freighters. Two of the Corvettes where hovering above and below the Factory Station, but the number of echo’s on his targeting display confused him until he realized what it meant.

"Watch out for mines! Don’t stray too far away from our present course and heading!", he shouted into their frequency, as the first gleaming bundles of light touched out from a nearby Frigate and ate away his shield-energy.

Dario noticed four approaching TIE Interceptors dead ahead, which were trailed by two Gunboats and brought his cross-hair in alignment with the lead Interceptor.

Meanwhile Sandra’s weapons officer Malcolm reached out and threw a switch on his weapon console, switching from Lasers to Ions. Then he touched the radar screen with the tip of his index finger and marked a target for the dual Missile launcher. It took only four of five seconds until the targeting computer had locked on and programmed the warheads of two concussion missiles to follow Vyper’s A-Wing.

"Now we have them where we want them. Let’s pop our disguise and bag the bounty.", Malcolm said with a wry smile, ready to press the launch button upon her order.

[Aboard the Joan d’Arc, Hangar Bay]

Peter managed to close the seat belts around him, which finally pinned him to place in the seat of his B-Wing. It had been a real pain to climb into the fighter in this zero-G environment and in almost complete darkness, which was only lighted by the dim cockpit lights of the few combat ready fighters of White Squadron. Fortunately the crafts in the Hangar were not affected by the sudden loss of energy and their magnetic landing gears or suspension fields held them in place. But actually crossing the vast openness between the ready room exit and the closest fighter had been a tough cookie. So neither Iceman nor Daniel, better known as "Drake" had bothered to make it to their own ships. Apparently this was Avery’s B-Wing, Peter realized and Drake, who just closed the canopy behind him had managed to get a hold of Psycho’s A-Wing.

Both pilots had no clue what was going on elsewhere, but when the unexpected power loss had happened, both had agreed to scramble and take a look what was going on out there.

Iceman didn’t bother to run down the entire checklist and just hit the emergency power-up button as soon as he had opened the protective cover above it. The B-Wing’s Engines started whining, while all the screens, displays and control lights came to live. As soon as the gauges indicated green he pulled back on the stick, lifted off and retracted the landing gear. Gently pulling the throttle forward he slowly let the B-Wing pick up speed and approached the hangar exit. Somehow the energy barrier that sealed the hangars atmosphere against the cold void of space was still active and this raised Iceman’s curiosity for half a second. Apparently it was one of the few – if not the only working system aboard the Joan d’Arc. But then again, if it had failed in first place, then the entire hangar and every ship section with doors that had been open while the power loss took place would have turned into hostile environments not too long ago.

Shutting off his worries Iceman plunged his B-Wing through the field and launched his fighter into the fray, with Drake’s A-Wing in hot pursuit.

As soon as they had left the hangar they noticed the distant Star Destroyer and several waves of approaching TIE Fighters and TIE Bombers. Their lead elements were still seven klicks away, but they were approaching fast and in vastly superior number, while White Squadron’s only hope for survival lay in the hands of a skilled Lieutenant and an eager Flight Officer.

"Join the Alliance, they said.", Drake mumbled. "Visit exiting places they said. Well, looks like it’s going to get very exiting, don’t you think?"

Iceman chuckled as he brought locked the wings of his fighter in attack position and readied his Proton Torpedoes. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. This doesn’t look like a day on the beach, if I’m not mistaken."

Then he got serious and targeted the closest TIE Bomber, still far out of reach. "I’ll take care of the bombers, try to keep those Eyeballs as busy as you can, but be prepared to break and engage any bomber that slips by."

Drake didn’t need any encouragement, because his sensors told him the entire story. Without her weapons online and with the shields still down the Joan d’Arc wouldn’t survive that many torpedo hits. Each torpedo which made it through their line of defense would do some serious damage and endanger their friends and comrades aboard.

[Aboard the ISD Guardian, Bridge]

Vice Admiral Garner was more than pleased with how the operation unfolded before him. Apparently the Alliance Frigate had been successfully disabled by a computer virus, which was at least what the Secret Order Initiate claimed. All sensor readings so far supported this information, even though the Frigate had managed to launch two single fighters in response. Admiral Garner was sure that his forces would wipe this minor nuisance away in an eyeblink and the helpless Frigate would then be easy prey for the swarms of bombers, which would reach their attack position any minute by now. He didn’t even bother to order the Guardian closer, because by the time it would be in shooting distance the action would for sure be over by long.

"Urgent message on the command channel from the Huntsman!", one of the communications officers announced.

Garner turned his attention to the surprisingly pale Lieutenant, who struggled ahead with his report: "Uh ... looks like they’re under attack by an yet undetermined number of Rebel fighters."

The Admiral raised an eyebrow and queried harshly: "How many warships?"

When he got the reply he relaxed seemingly and turned his attention towards the unfolding battle at hand. "I’m sure they can handle whatever the Rebels throw at them."

[Aboard the Blastboat Millennia, Twin Sun System]

This was the moment that Sandra had waited for and that she had hoped that it would never happen. But the Empire had left her no choice and made it clear that they needed to be sure of her devotion and loyalty to the Emperor, before they could trust her again. Working as a freelancer and for the Empire as well as the Alliance had it’s backdraw and it didn’t pay that well. Sooner or later she had to make a choice and the moment was now or never. And she made her choice. She had so much to lose, her logic said her, but her heart left her only one option and she followed it. With a swift movement Sandra drew her sidearm, half turned in her pilot’s seat and shot Malcolm squarely in the chest. Her Blaster was only set to stun, but it would buy her the time she needed.

With holstered her blaster again and reached over to the backup weapons console on the left of her hip. It wasn’t as comfortable and complex as the one the weapons officer was supposed to control and handling it while flying was quite demanding, but she had no other choice than to divert her attention to both tasks at hand.

But she had to take care of the two Gunboats, which were a crucial part of the trap they - the Empire, she corrected herself - had laid out for Michael. She made sure that the Concussion Missiles were still selected and then flipped the targeting over from the two A-Wing's to the Gunboats. So far the Imperial fighters were ignoring her Blastboat, but the approaching TIE Interceptors had already split in elements of two and each group opened fire upon Michael's and Dario's fighter. Finally the targeting computers beeping switched to a constant whistle and Sandra pressed both firing buttons on the weapons console. The Blastboat shivered as it launched the four Advanced Concussion Missiles at once and their homing warheads raced onwards to the unsuspecting Gunboats. Immediately she launched another salvo at the two GUN's, well knowing that even two impacting missiles wouldn't finish them off due to their superior shields and armor. Provided that the first pair of missiles hit them at all.

Vyper rolled hard and realigned his A-Wing, as the pair of TIE Interceptors in front of him opened fire. Their shots went by close to the bell of his fighter and he squeezed off a salvo of single bursts himself, with slightly better accuracy, hitting and damaging both of his enemies lightly. Then some green laser beams hit his own frontal shields and he had to break lock for another evasive break, pulling up and leveling out again on them. With a light smile on his lips he pressed the trigger again, noticing that both TIE's were still too close together, making it very easy for him. His stream of ruby glancing energy needles reached out and gently touched the solar panel of the right TIE, ripping it off clearly and sending the crippled craft slamming into it's unprepared wingman. Both Imperial fighters exploded in a fiery ball of whirling debris.

Michael glanced over his shoulder, looked around and saw that Dario had just apparently finished his first TIE and was in hot pursuit of the second one. An explosion further down their way to the Factory Station caught his attention and by the flailing wings that whirled out of the fireball he noticed that this must have been one of the Gunboats. The second GUN tried hard to evade a single Concussion missile, with it's shields already way down and with trailing smoke, indicating serious internal damage.

For a moment Vyper was very surprised how quick they had finished the first the first wave of Imperial crafts, but now that the advantage of surprise had plaid out it's limited usefulness things would get hot and hotter by each and any passing second. He already noticed two flights of TIE Advanced closing from the right and the left, while a lot of other hostile dots and clusters on his threat indicator came closer to where they were. Not only the Carrack Cruiser behind them, but also two Frigates, one up and to the left and one on the right, were in or almost in range to open fire with their main batteries. There could be no doubt that they were currently about to or preparing to launching their fighters.

"Our time runs out, guys.", Vyper signaled. "Let's deliver our presents and get the hell out of Dodge."

He then targeted the remaining Gunboat and caught it's attention by opening fire, unfortunately without doing any harm to it. The GUN made another hard turn to evade the trailing missile, which finally run out of fuel and exploded harmlessly. Dario joined Vyper in his attack on the Cygnus Starwing and together they sent it into oblivion, making the path free for the Blastboat to continue it's flight towards the Factory.

[Meanwhile aboard TIE Advanced Avenger One]

Just finishing another quick glance around Lieutenant Dahlgren checked his sensor display and was surprised to find three green blips in midst of all the red dots there. He blinked in surprise and looked again. "What the hell ...", he mumbled and flipped through his targeting computer to select one of the newcomers to obtain further info. Before he could do so the speakers in his helmet started blearing: "Huntsman to Avenger and Theta. Hostile forces in sector 2-4 red. Move to sector 3-4 red, but do not – repeat – not engage."

He heard further orders concerning other flightgroups, but blended them out from his consciousness, as he wondered about this strange orders and assembled his wingmen around him. They rejoined formation, sped up and raced towards what seemed to be an Skipray Blastboat and it’s two A-Wing escorts. Dahlgren wondered where the rest of the Alliance ships were. Probably they’d come out of hyperspace any minute by now, not even in his wildest dreams thinking that three gold fish would willingly swim in this tank filled with sharks that the Twin Sun system represented due to their presence. He noticed a couple of TIE Interceptors and Gunboats which already had engaged the Rebels and were getting the worst of it. The Interceptor pilots screamed for assistance and Dahlgren was more than eager to jump to their assistance, but as soon as his flight came closer than 1.5 klicks to the targets, the Huntsman ordered them back angrily.

Finally the screams of the last Interceptor pilot were cut of abruptly, as his fighter was turned into a cloud of expanding debris. One of the Gunboats had also went down by now and finally Dahlgren had enough. "Avenger Lead to Huntsman. Are you guys sleeping or what? Our people die out here while you let us stand by twisting our thumbs. Are we allowed to engage?"

The Lieutenant knew he would have to pay for this insubordination, but he just couldn’t stand it any longer. There was a moment of deadly silence on the comline, but then he heard a stern voice in his speakers: "Affirmative. Avenger, engage to kill."

With an almost sexual relieve Dahlgren threw his TIE Advanced around and ordered his wingman to attack, with himself going in for the leading A-Wing, which skillfully rolled through the dozens of laser beams that leashed out from the Frigate Gladiator, hovering above the scene. Dahlgren prayed that the A-Wing would survive as long as it would take him to get into firing range, which would be real soon by now, due to the superior speed of his craft.

The Imperial Lieutenant used this moment to reconfigure his power settings to one best suited dealing with an A-Wing and checked that his lasers were fully charged. He wanted his first volley to come true, so he linked all lasers and waited until the leading A-Wing had finished it’s roll. Holding his breath he waited for the right moment and with the precision that would have made a Zen-master proud he pressed the trigger, knowing the result even before the four solid beams had finished their short voyage.

[Aboard the Joan d’Arc, CIC]

Uttering a silent curse Shok’wave thumbed her lighter and held it up, while she used her left hand to prevent herself from drifting away freely. The little flame threw long shadows in the Combat Information Center and lighted the long and white faces of her fellow officers. "So, where is the damage report?", she asked and looked at Moose, who happened to be closest.

The Alderaanian pilot threw a sour face and looked up from his personal communicator, which dangled uselessly and with dead controls from his wrist. "I’ll head for the bridge and see what ideas they have. Someone should check with Engineering, too."

Avery nodded and used her legs to thrust herself towards the door. "That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I guess whatever trouble we’ve encountered has it’s origin in the lower decks."

With a curious look Shok’s faced her and carefully shifted the lighter from one hand to the other, as it was getting quite hot. "What do you mean by that?", she inquired.

At that moment a bright light appeared in the corridor outside CIC and headed their way, dangling from one wall to the other as someone was trying to make his difficult approach in zero gravity. Finally Granite burst into the room and drifted over the card table, missing the rail by just an inch and floating on. He almost bumped into Shok’s who, let go her lighter and grabbed him towards the next save handhold. The flashlight he carried brightened the room a lot more than the zippo they had to rely on just half a minute ago.

"Uuuh, I think I can explain.", sighed the Caldanian pilot and shrunk a little bit away from his Commanding Officer.

He quickly told them what he and Psycho had done and what they had discovered.

"You broke into the main Imperial Database?", Solo inquired and let go a deep breath.

Shok’wave shook her head and moved her face closer to the sweat covered forehead of the Caldanian pilot: "We will have a long talk when this is over, be assured of that.", she whispered with a dangerous tone in her voice. She then listened to his explanation of what had happened to the ship’s computer and waved her hand: "Can Psycho fix it?"

Granite shrugged as best as he could without losing his delicate stand. "I hope so, but who can tell to which degree the virus has infected the systems? It might shut everything down once we have it up again, but I’m no expert in this."

Commander Krenzel looked him deep into the eyes and Owen could very well see her anger and disappointment within there.

Finally it was Solo, who broke the silence and said with great discomfort: "I might be the newest addition to the Squadron and the Training Wing, but I guess we might be able to find out what’s wrong if we restore power to the computer and hook up the R2-Unit, that I’ve seen around lately."

Shok’s whirled around and screamed: "Ledner!", before she thrust herself into the general direction of the corridor.

"No.", Solo said, surprised and confused by Shok’s reply, following her with his eyes. "My name is Charbel, Ma’am."

Granite chuckled as he drifted by and headed for the exit. "Welcome to White Squadron. And by the way, Ledner is Drake’s R2-Unit."

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