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The Price By Avery "Foxfire" Schroeder, Daniel "Drake" Sutherland, and Dario "Ibero" Pozo Pictures by Dario "Ibero" Pozo

[Forty hours later. Imperial frontier]

Advance patrol missions were usually boring. Most of the time you had to pass several hours looking at the emptiness of space, wondering every minute why you were wasting your time like that. But Lieutenant Dario "Ibero" Pozo, White Nine, was far from feeling bored, not today. Twenty minutes ago they had officially entered Imperial space, after passing through an expanse of what could be called "no man's land". He was feeling even more nervous here than he had in the disputed space they'd just left.

He didn't say anything to his partners though. They had been ordered to keep absolute communications silence during the flight, and that measure, if nothing else, was enough to show how dangerous the situation was. If the Joan d'Arc was detected by Imperial units they would be in serious trouble. It was like the old days of the Rebellion, when everything was Imperial space. Ibero had not fought in those times, he had joined the Alliance shortly before the battle of Endor, and since then, at least part of the galaxy could be considered as free and safe. But the Empire was far from being defeated, nobody had any doubt about that, and they were now invading its domains. Ibero knew that with the route they were following, directly to Coruscant and the Core's worlds, the odds were good they would run into an Imperial patrol - or worse, a capital ship or battle fleet.

The pilot from Iberya glanced repeatedly at his main screen, but the only visible signals were those from the other two A-Wings, piloted by Flight Officers Daniel "Drake" Sutherland and DSC "Arachnoid", Whites Five and Sixteen. Usually this kind of mission was accomplished by only two fighters, but Arachnoid was eager to fly and Foxfire had allowed him to go out with his two squad-mates, accepting the pilot's argument that three pairs of eyes would be better than two. Ibero understood DSC very well. He had obtained his Flight Officer's wings just a few weeks ago, and after so many sessions in the simulation pods, the man was mad to pilot a real ship. It has been a while since the last time the Training Wing saw some real combat, when they had to track down a group of three Imperial Frigates throughout a half of the galaxy. This mission was not that different, when you thought about it. They were still out looking for a little fleet that didn't want to be found. But this time the chase was taking place in Imperial space, and they were completely alone, without any chance of support from the New Republic Fleet.

Ibero looked to starboard and saw the nose of Drake's A-Wing, exactly where it was supposed to be. He liked to fly with the pilot from Arrebnac. As young as he was, he always seemed to know what had to be done in the middle of a combat. When Drake covered his tail, Ibero knew that he could forget the backwards display. In the same way, when the young pilot took the lead, he did it fast and accurately. It was the first time he'd flown with Arachnoid in a combat mission, but there was no doubt White Sixteen was perfectly prepared for this. What the hell, last week he shot me down in a simulation, Ibero thought with a smile on his lips.

One of his partners double-clicked his microphone. He looked over his right shoulder and saw how Drake pointed to his starboard wing. He had detected something. Ibero took a quick glance at his screen but his own sensors had not caught any new signal. He gestured back indicating Drake to take the lead. The A- Wing rolled softly to the right and accelerated. Ibero imitated him and looked to his left to check if Arachnoid had understood. He had followed their manuever immediately. Arachnoid gave him a thumbs-up, confirming he knew what was going on, so Ibero returned his attention to the front. A pale red dot appeared on his forward display. That was what Drake had detected some seconds ago. Let's see what we've got here. Before his computer could offer him any data about the Imperial ship, two more signals showed up, and then a fourth. The outline of a fighter appeared on the screen, while the computer indicated "positive identification" with a beep. TIE Advanced. This is exactly the kind of company I like the least! There was a slight possibility that they had not been detected yet, but the Imperials' route was unmistakable: they were heading directly to intercept them.

Ibero tried to think as fast as he could. Their mission was to explore the space the Joan d'Arc would have to fly through, and prevent any Imperial ship from detecting their frigate. Their instructions were to avoid any confrontation whenever it was possible, but after being discovered it was too late to withdraw. If they jumped out of there, the Imperial patrol would be free to keep their present route and find the Joan d'Arc. On the other hand, if their mothership was out of their communication range -it had to be a ship, because there were no Imperial bases in the proximities - then if they were able to shoot down all the Imperial fighters, the Joan d'Arc would be far enough away when someone started to look for the missing patrol.

"This is Nine." There was no reason to maintain communications silence any more. "Drake, take the one leading the right flight, I'll take care of the other one. Arachnoid, if they fly by the book, the wingmen will follow their leaders, at least initially. You're free to attack any of them."

Two "Aye, aye" were the only answer. There wasn't either a comment or a joke - what was surprising in Drake's case. All three of the pilots knew how critical this combat might be. It was not only their own lives. If they were killed and the Joan d'Arc was discovered, the Imperials would be able to ambush White Squadron's mother ship and many people would die or be captured. There was no option, they had to win.

Drake selected dual missile launchers and centred his target on his front sight. A single missile wouldn't be enough to collapse a TIE Advanced's shields. The pilot knew this was not going to be easy. Only veteran pilots were allowed to fly a TIE Avenger, as the Imperials called this model of fighter. The sight turned yellow in the same moment that his own threat indicator started to blink. Two Imperial fighters were trying to obtain a lock on him. Great.

"This is Five, I've got two on me." There was no trace of nervousness in Drake's voice.

"Drake, forget your missiles and break now! Arachnoid, take cover behind me and have yours ready!" He changed to lasers and set all the shield energy to forward.

"Good luck," Drake said and broke to port, diverting all his energy to the engines. His threat display turned off for some seconds and then started to blink again. A new turn and the Imperials lost their locks again. It wasn't going to be any easy game to fight against two TIEs Advanced at once. They could attack him by turns and play with him until they had hit him enough to drain his shields. It was a common tactic amongst the Imperials, who used to have the advantage in numbers. When they piloted TIE Fighters or Interceptors, you could hope to hit one of them and cause him enough damage to shoot him down or at least force him to withdraw. A good enough pilot could hope to survive in a disadvantage of three to one or even more, if the enemy pilots were not that good. But that defence wouldn't work against TIEs Advanced or Gunboats, because they could always recharge their shields and return to the combat. No, this game couldn't last for too long. Nevertheless, Drake was sure that when they were in range of his lasers, he would be able then to give them something to worry about.

Arachnoid stayed as closely as he could on Ibero's tail. They had tried this manuever on the simulators before, and it worked. Sometimes. He understood why Ibero had decided to risk this dangerous tactic. They had to shoot down one of the Imperials soon, or the pilot forced to engage two at the same time would be probably killed, and then the other two would be even worse. I hope this works... His threat indicator had ceased to blink since Ibero's fighter was between him and the Imperial's tracking devices. Now the second Advanced would be targeting his comrade too. He caressed the trigger and waited for the appropriate moment. Go, go... He saw one, no, two explosions in front of them. Ibero had destroyed the two first missiles launched at him. Green lasers passed above and beneath the two New Republic fighters, but some of them must be impacting against his squad-mate's forward shields. The time seemed to slow down until Ibero's shout sounded in his headphones.

"NOW!!!" The other A-Wing jumped briskly upwards, and Arachnoid saw briefly the TIE Advanced approaching in the middle of his sight. He didn't wait for a lock and shot his two missiles. Arachnoid pushed the flightstick forward and launched his fighter in a deep dive. Arachnoid looked over his shoulder. The enemy ship was hit frontally but it didn't explode. Damn it, good shields! he thought. Nonetheless, his sensors indicated him that the Advanced had lost its shields and its hull had also been affected. He pulled the stick on his stomach and cut the throttle enough to follow the damaged fighter.

"Enjoy it!" Ibero checked Drake's position. He had to give him some help before concentrating on his present enemy. The wingman of the pilot who had taken Arachnoid's missiles had two options, to engage Ibero or to help his wingleader, threatened now by Arachnoid. He chose the second. The TIE Advanced broke to port out of Arachnoid's line of fire and manuevered again to pursue the A-Wing. Ibero estimated that the Imperial would need several seconds before gaining a position on Arachnoid's tail, so he looked for Drake's closer hunter and switched the weapons selector to the missile position again. Two klicks. If the pilot was good enough, he would be able to evade one of the two concussion missiles, but that would give Drake time enough to engage the other ship. He directed more energy to the engines, although his shields had been drained down to forty five percent. It was not easy to keep the target centred on his sight, constantly moving as he was in his dog-fight with Drake. Ibero lost the lock twice, cursing both times and trying again, but he finally obtained a lock tone and squeezed the trigger, sending two concussion missiles after the TIE Advanced. He reduced his speed and turned, hoping to be able now to help Arachnoid.

Drake noticed how one of his enemies abandoned the attack and smiled. Thanks, Ibero. He selected the other one and made a tight loop to engage him. The Imperial pilot slowed his fighter down to keep his position behind the A-Wing, but Drake made a half roll in the opposite direction and pushed his throttle forward, managing to outrun his adversary and move out of his sight.

"Now it's one on one." Drake grinned fiercely and looked for the Advanced's tail.

Arachnoid shot blast after blast at the TIE Advanced, following the Imperial fighter in every one of its attempts to break his prosecution. Suddenly he felt a violent impact on his rear quarters and the A-Wing started to spin. He had been hit by a dumb missile, launched without a lock, so his computer hadn't warned him. "Shit, that was close!" If he hadn't had his primary and secondary shields fully charged, that missile could have put an end to his short career as a White pilot. He sent all the remaining energy to the aft shields and struggled to take the A-Wing out of the spin. The TIE Advanced he was chasing had evaded him momentarily, but Arachnoid persisted, clenching his teeth in concentration. He didn't know if he would be able to survive a second missile hit.

The Imperial pilot chasing White Sixteen's fighter changed to lasers for a systematic pounding on the New Republic ship. His scanners showed that his victim's shields were down to twenty percent. No matter how much you run, I'm going to catch you. He shot his four lasers in pairs again and again, and prepared himself to follow the other ship when the pilot tried to break, which he would be forced to do more sooner than later. Ten percent. He smiled, imagining the Rebel scum - as all the Imperials insisted on calling the New Republic's people - sweating and looking nervously at his shield indicators. His own squad-mate was probably doing the same, but he wouldn't have to worry too much longer.

His thoughts were interrupted by his threat indicator blinking in yellow. The computer informed him that he had a Rebel fighter on his tail trying to fix his tracking device on him. He kept his course a second more. If he abandoned his comrade now he would be unavoidably shot down. He shot one more time, but then the alarm sounded indicating warheads launched at him. He couldn't wait any more. The Imperial pilot spat out a curse and climbed sharply, trying to evade the incoming concussion missiles. He pressed a button on his console and launched a chaff charge.

The TIE Advanced pursued by Drake reduced its speed drastically, trying to force the New Republic pilot to outrun him. In a touch of inspiration, Drake selected the missiles launchers instead of cutting his own throttle, which would have made him an easy target for the second fighter. Drake shot two missiles in the last moment and managed to avoid the collision by no more than a meter. The explosion illuminated his cockpit for an instant. Boooooom! he thought.

"Sorry for the delay." The Iberyan pilot saw how his missiles exploded some metres behind his target, although the expanding wave was strong enough to destabilize the Imperial fighter for a moment.

Arachnoid was able now to concentrate on his initial target. Blast after blast, he discharged his weapons on the battered TIE Advanced. He was about to destroy it when something exploded on its cockpit ball's upper part. The pilot had understood he was not going to make it and finally gave up, ejecting while he still was able to do so. Arachnoid moved his finger off of the trigger. The TIE Advanced followed its route now unsteered. Without his pilot, the fighter's controls locked on his present position - a characteristic that was not unusual among the combat ships. If a pilot was forced to eject, he could direct his fighter towards his target before to pulling the handle. The ship would fly straight forward until crashing against the enemy ship, like a deadly and poisoned last present. In this case, Arachnoid had found a different use for that feature.

Ibero saw the damaged TIE flying away, but from his position he didn't notice the pilot's absence. Where is Arachnoid? he wondered. He had almost got it...

"Sixteen, what are you supposedly doing?" he asked without easing his fire on at his own adversary. Jinking frantically, the T/A managing to avoid being hit most of the times, although he couldn't shake Ibero off his six.

"There's no pilot...? Ah, good thinking!" After a moment, Ibero understood why his comrade had not destroyed the ship itself. When the Imperials sent a new patrol to search for their missing fighters, that Advanced's position beacon would lead them in the wrong direction before they discovered the pilot was not there. That would mean more time for the Joan d'Arc.

Three klicks away, Drake smiled when he heard Arachnoid's last comment and concentrated on the remaining fighter. Now the odds were three to two, clearly on the White pilots' side.

Arachnoid selected Ibero's target on his computer and selected missiles. The Imperial pilot was clearly an ace, and Ibero was finding it pretty hard to remain after him long enough to hit him more than once. The Imperial broke now to starboard when his computer warned him of Arachnoid's missile lock. He did it in the very last moment, but Arachnoid stayed behind him and the Advanced's pilot was forced to move one more time, this time to port and upwards. Those two turns were all what Ibero needed to reduce the distance that separated him from the Imperial fighter. He drove his A- Wing close to the TIE Advanced's tail before its pilot could do anything to avoid it. Ibero pursued him patiently, imitating every maneuver and shooting at him every time the Imperial crossed in front of him. At that distance, his shots were very effective and finally he saw the TIE Advanced's right solar panel break apart. The pilot ejected just before the fighter exploded.

"Yeah, the guy was very good, I must accept that you have saved me a couple of minutes..."

"A couple of minutes? Hehe, it would have taken you forever to shoot him down without my help!"

"Next time I'll leave the top aces for you, and you will have to beg my help, you joker!" The two pilots laughed for a moment, now that the worst of the danger had passed. But they hadn't finished their work yet. "OK, let's help Drake with the other guy and we'll be able to return home."

"Hey, who said I need help here?" Drake protested through the intercom. His adversary had noticed that he was now alone and decided that he would be more useful to the Empire's cause if he returned alive to inform about the Rebel presence in this area. He pushed the hyperspace lever forward.

"Not if I can help it!" Drake muttered. He shot two concussion missiles at the fleeing fighter without waiting for a lock. The TIE Advanced accelerated straight towards its jump point, closely pursued by the two warheads. The three White pilots saw the explosion, and then nothing.

"I don't know." Drake answered dubiously. "Wait a minute, and I'll check if there is any debris in the area."

"All of us will do it, let's go!" The three pilots launched a full sensor sweep on the zone of the explosion, looking for some debris or other remains that could confirm that the TIE Advanced had been destroyed.

"Nothing. Not a single piece of metal." Drake concluded five minutes later. None of his comrades had obtained better results.

"That doesn't mean you didn't kill him." Arachnoid pointed out. "If the missiles impacted when he was starting to jump, the ship could have disintegrated in the middle of nowhere."

"True, but I wouldn't bet our lives on that possibility." Ibero said. "Let's get back to the Joan before any other ship shows up and we'll report about this. I fear that Captain Orris will have to order an slight change of route..."

"Just a few klicks inside Imperial space and we run face to face into the first patrol." Drake said thoughtfully. "I'd say that it could be worse, except that it might come true."

None of his friends replied. It was starting to be painfully obvious that this mission was going to be very, very dangerous.

[Two and a half hours later, onboard Victory Class Star Destroyer Canngas' Pride]

Lieutenant Fellssenn looked nervously at his commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Seinn. He had been the only survivor of his patrol, which meant he was the only one who could be punished for the failure. He had been ordered to remain on the bridge until the search and rescue team reported the results of their mission. He had not been allowed to take a seat, or even relax from the attention position he had adopted to present his report.

Minutes passed slowly in the silence of the bridge, and Fellssenn felt Lieutenant Commander Seinn's look spear him. Canngas' Pride's Captain was anything but satisfied, and that meant trouble for Seinn, which was the same as problems for him. The flightsuit was too hot for the bridge's environment, but the pilot knew that this was not the main reason for him sweating like that. This was cold sweat.

A voice broke the silence behind him, reporting that Search and Rescue had recovered two of his partners. He struggled to hold in the sigh of relief, not as much for the news of his comrades being alive, as to know that there would be three of them to share the punishment.

"Lieutenant Fellssenn?" It was the Captain's voice. The nervous pilot tried to adopt an even more rigid posture.

"I'm glad to inform you that two of your comrades have survived." There was no trace of that joy in his voice, but that was not surprising.

"Although one of them won't make it to the Pride." The pilot shivered. "It seem that our ships have lost an entire hour following a fighter that was flying on automatic, without the pilot. A pilot who ejects from a ship that still can fight doesn't deserve to be in the Imperial Navy. Search and Rescue seems to have lost his signal."

"Yes, sir. We detected three Rebel fighters, A-Wings, and we engaged them. They were better than us and managed to shoot my partners down. When I realized that I was alone I decided to abandon the combat to inform about the Rebel presence in the area. That's all, sir."

"Effectively, Lieutenant, that's all." The Captain stared at him for some instants before continuing. "There were less of them, but they were better than you. You could be accused of cowardice for abandoning a combat, but with your action you have served the Empire better than by dying. Or ejecting, as your ex-partner. After all, you have accepted that you are not a good enough pilot to beat those Rebels, is this correct, Lieutenant?"

"Nevertheless, at least we know, thanks to you, that there are Rebels in the area. They were A-Wings, and if our information is correct, that bastard Rebel Admiral we are tracking down has not that kind of ship available, so they must be from a different unit. If they are trying to support the Admiral or not, that will have to find out." The Captain remained in silence a few seconds. "There is something good about you, Lieutenant Fellssenn. You have not been so stupid as to try to offend my intelligence lying about the number of Rebels, the circumstances of the engagement or your participation in it. Some pilots do that, as if we were idiots that wouldn't check out their ships' recordings, or search the area for debris of the enemies they have supposedly killed before running away." The pilot didn't know if he was expected to say something or not, so he decided to keep silent. "I've recommended that Lieutenant Commander Seinn not arrest you, and allow you to keep flying."

"That's all, Lieutenant." He hadn't said "dismissed", so the pilot didn't move from where he was standing. The Captain left, not before telling Lieutenant Commander Seinn to join him in his office ten minutes later. Fellsenn felt his commander's presence very close behind him. His mouth must be no more than some inches from his right ear when he spoke.

"That's not all, Flight Officer Fellsenn." He practically spat into his ear. "I want you in the flight deck in twenty minutes, ready to start a new patrol mission. In your new ship."

"Yes, Flight Officer. You are back in the TIE Fighter, but never expect to pilot a TIE Avenger again, not even an Interceptor. And you must thank the Captain that I don't kill you right now, because that is what I would like to do."

"All right, sir." The pilot didn't look back as he hurried out of Canngas' Pride's bridge.

Reading Room

[Forty hours later. Imperial frontier]

[Two and a half hours later, onboard Victory Class Star Destroyer Canngas' Pride]