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Chapter Text

Character Details
OC - Original Character

Dorset Konnair
Human female with short black hair and aqua-colored eyes, born in 12 BBY on Coruscant. She is headstrong as a result of her parents’ insistence that she pursue a career they consider to be beneficial rather than becoming a pilot, and they are no longer on speaking terms. Since birth, her eyes have been drawn to the sky and stars; that serves as inspiration for her tattoos.
Becoming a pilot is her sole focus during training, even as others in the squadron form romantic relationships. Like many A-Wing pilots, she views slower fighters (so, all of them) with disdain.

Tetengo Noor
Human male with sandy-colored hair and gray eyes born in 13 BBY on Churba, where his family makes alcoholic spirits. His older brother Timan died fighting the Empire there, and his younger sister Tyana commands a small freighter as part of the family business. He’s rather talkative, but it can cause problems when he asks the wrong question or reveals something Dorset would have preferred to be private. He starts as her wingman, and is dating her roommate Rushi.

Rushi Yivet (OC)
A Rodian female born in 13 BBY on Rodia, her skin has a base color of mottled red and green though that can change depending on mood. Like Tetengo, she has prior flight experience with freighters and that brought them together initially. Their relationship is a poorly kept secret, at first, because it could require one be transferred to another training unit if acknowledged.

Ro’aven (OC)
A blue-skinned Twi’lek female from Ryloth born in 16 BBY, she considers herself a warrior and pilot in equal measure. That doesn’t keep her from being friendly with many of the other pilots, including Rushi and her wingmate Radie in particular. 

Radielle “Radie” Felian (OC)
Human female with red hair and brown eyes born on Corellia in 14 BBY. She carries the weight of a tragic family past, though she keeps it close to the (literal) vest. She and Dorset share a competitive nature that clashes initially, but they become good friends - with Ro’aven as their bridge - not long after. Radie is amicable with her squadmates overall, but closest to Ro. 

Levoc Tine (OC)
A Duros male from Duro, also with blue skin and red eyes, he was born in 17 BBY. He is brash and seeks to be crowned the best of the trainees, making Dorset a top competitor in his view. His attitude brings him few friends, though Gir Lya’per and Dav Otan at least tolerate him. If this were Top Gun, Levoc would be Pete “Maverick” Mitchell turned up to 11 - or more.

Lasko Javal (OC)
The third contender for the top trainee status, Lasko is a Human male from Corellia who was born in 14 BBY and has closely cropped brown hair and green eyes. Like Dorset, he doesn’t view the challenge of who will be the best with the same fervor that Levoc Tine holds.  

Dav Otan (OC)
A Sullustan male from Sullust born in 15 BBY, he was mentored by Ten Numb and seeks to follow in his footsteps as a hero for the New Republic. His species’ height also gives him an advantage at being comfortable in the A-Wing cockpit, and he’s easily the best Sabacc player among Blue Squadron.

Gir Lya’per (OC)
A Bothan male from Bothuawai, he has black fur that belies the friendliest nature of them all. That’s part of what allows him to put up with Levoc Tine. It helps that they’re the oldest of the trainees, as he was born in 19 BBY and previously graduated from the Bothan Martial Academy before requesting a transfer from Intelligence operations to Starfighter Command.

Grivko Rigal (OC)
A Human male from Saleucami, he is the youngest original Blue Squadron trainee and was born in 10 BBY (he came to the unit just after turning 17.) This leads most of the other pilots to dote on him, though they may only be within a few years older. Even Radie Felian warms up to him.

Cran Temarch (OC)
A Human male from Agamar with blond hair and a light beard, born in 12 BBY. He had been in Gold Squadron - which was behind Blue on the training schedule - until replacement personnel were needed. He develops a relationship with Elana Donnall, another former Gold pilot.

Elana Donnall (OC)
A brunette Human female from Anoat, she joins Blue with Cran and Carmiya Rendon and was born in 13 BBY. She had been mentored by Radie during collaborative education for Blue and Gold and is brought into the group of Radie, Ro’aven, Dorset, Rushi and Tetengo as a result. 

Carmiya Rendon (OC)
A blonde Human female from Eriadu born in 11 BBY, she had been mentored by Dorset in the same exercise. Carmiya has an exuberant personality, and (other than flying) few things pique her interest more than the stories of past Jedi. She also becomes part of the main group, and is good friends with Elana Donnall in particular.

Varyl Vellis (OC)
A Human male from Drexel born in 12 BBY, he is a late addition to Polearm Squadron and has light brown hair. Unlike the others, he is a former Imperial pilot who defected and so Varyl feels like an outsider first. The newer pilots are more willing to accept that, however, and his willingness to fly with non-Human members of the squadron makes the older ones agreeable.

Chapter Text

Epigraph:

"Fastest in flight, fastest to fight;
Our A-Wings set ISDs alight.
But if I fall in the battle zone;
Arvel showed not to die alone."

"Bury me with the brave;
Let space be our grave.
Now we end our final test;
Write home I did my best."

- First and second verses of a New Republic running song, 7 ABY.

Dramatis Personae Number 1

Blue Squadron
General Edor Crespin, Blue Leader (human male from Corulag)
Cran Temarch, Blue Two (Human male from Agamar)
Lasko Javal, Blue Three (Human male from Corellia)
Elana Donnall, Blue Four (Human female from Anoat)
Captain Todra Mayn, Blue Five (Human female from Commenor)
Radielle “Radie” Felian, Blue Six (Human female from Corellia)
Ro’aven, Blue Seven (Twi’lek female from Ryloth)
Carmiya Rendon, Blue Eight (Human female from Eriadu)
Dorset Konnair, Blue Nine (Human female from Coruscant) 
Tetengo Noor, Blue Ten (Human male from Churba) 
Rushi Yivet, Blue Eleven (Rodian female from Rodia) 
Varyl Vellis, Blue Twelve (Human male from Drexel)

Wraith Squadron
Commander Wedge Antilles, Wraith Leader (Human male from Corellia)
Jesmin Ackbar, Wraith Two (Mon Calamari female from Mon Cala)
Falynn Sandskimmer, Wraith Three (Human female from Tatooine)
Eurrsk “Grinder” Thri’ag, Wraith Four (Bothan male from Bothuwai)
Kell Tainer, Wraith Five (Human male from Sluis Van) 
Hohass “Runt” Ekwesh, Wraith Six (Thakwaash male from Thakwaa) 
Ton Phanan, Wraith Seven (Human male from Rudrig)
Garik “Face” Loran, Wraith Eight (Human male from Pantolomin)
Lieutenant Myn Donos, Wraith Nine (Human male from Corellia) 
Tyria Sarkin, Wraith Ten (Human female from Toprawa)
Lieutenant Wes Janson, Wraith Eleven (Human male from Taanab)
Voort “Piggy” saBinring, Wraith Twelve (Gamorrean male from Gamorr)

1

Dorset Konnair sighed and pulled up the battle’s holofootage again, this time as recorded from Radie Felian’s A-Wing. She’d watched General Edor Crespin’s recording first, taking notes on tactics that could be developed as a result. The trainees of Blue Squadron had done their best, but too many died - Gir Lya’per of Bothawai, Dav Otan of Sullust, Grivko Rigal of Saleucami.

It hurt that she hadn’t been there to help them, but Dorset took solace in knowing the Battle of Folor would have been far worse if Admiral Trigit’s Star Destroyer had disrupted their retreat. 

Instead, Implacable had been hoodwinked by herself, her wingman Tetengo Noor and two pilots from the misfit unit Wraith Squadron, which General Crespin detested even if he was pleased by this result - the plan had been devised by Wraith Five, Flight Officer Kell Tainer, after all.

But now Wraith Squadron was missing, and Blue Squadron’s losses had forced a reorganization as more pilots were brought in from Gold. Dorset’s Third Flight still included her and Tetengo as Nine and Ten, but Rushi Yivet had moved up to Eleven and was now flying with the new Blue Twelve, Varyl Vellis. Yivet's former wingmate, Radie, had become Blue Six alongside Captain Todra Mayn. Rounding out Second Flight as Seven and Eight were the Twi’lek Ro’aven and Carmiya Rendon, a trainee Dorset had previously mentored in Gold’s classroom instruction.

Dorset sighed again, glancing out the GR-75 transport’s window, and started the projector.

The X-Wings that had been blocking Blue Squadron in - damn showoffs - locked their S-Foils in attack position and began to rise out of the fissure, only to be left in lunar dust as the A-Wings rocketed up and out as well. Six squadrons of TIEs in various types waited, two klicks away.

The A-Wings fell upon the TIE Fighters and Bombers first, and Dorset smiled as Radie took out a Dupe with sustained fire from her downward-swiveled lasers. It was a technique she herself had used against Radie and Ro’aven during a series of sim dogfights her first day at Folor. 

Their first cross complete, the formations of New Republic and Zsinj forces fell into individual engagements. With Dorset and Tetengo sent away to act as spotters, Radie and Rushi had been folded into the First and Second Flights, Rushi on General Crespin’s wing and Radie paired with Dav Otan. Captain Wyl Lark - Blue Five - was detailed to the rescue U-Wing.

There were stories about Lark, rumors that the man had pledged not to combat the Imperials any further, but Dorset knew the man didn’t lack courage after his actions at Folor. Twice he’d ventured into the active combat zones to retrieve their downed pilots, Rushi and Lasko Javal.

Radie’s footage showed her tangling with a pair of TIE Fighters and coming away with one and a half kills, as she and Lasko Javal took out the same eyeball in unison. Javal had been the top Blue Squadron pilot during their training, and she was glad he made it even though she hadn’t seen the footage of what happened to his A-Wing yet. 

“Han, can’t you coax any more speed out of that pile of junk?” That was Kell, and Dorset giggled at the distorted version of a fake Alderaanian accent from his Tycho Celchu impersonation. Not that my “Princess Leia” act was any better, I’ll be reminded of that momentarily. 

“What the kriff is going on?” she heard Radie ask incredulously over the recording. 

“Blue Squadron - disregard these transmissions, keep fighting as normal,” General Crespin interrupted over the squadron channel. “The Wraiths have that situation under control.”

The aforementioned X-Wings had just caught up with A-Wings and dove into the aerial brawl, firing in all directions. It was just in time; Blue Squadron’s pilots had been heavily outnumbered. 

“Blue Three is gone, I repeat, gone, ” Gir Lya’per cried out, mourning the apparent death of his wingman. This was the hardest part of the holo-recording for Dorset to watch again.

“Somebody get this mynock off my tail!” Those were Dav Otan’s last words; the TIE Interceptor vaped the Sullustan pilot seconds later.

“Blue Four, this is Three. I’m still here, where are you?” Lasko Javal had cut in, engaging three TIE Fighters at once. “Then who’s that cloud of debris-” The Bothan pilot was silenced in death.

The “cloud of debris” had been Grivko Rigal, Blue Eight; Radie had been too busy staying alive herself to save either pilot in Second Flight. Now she was protecting the U-Wing while it located Lasko’s ejection seat. He’d just been forced to punch out after taking fire from two Interceptors.

Finally the A-Wings broke contact with the TIEs as the last GR-75 transport pulled away from Folor, and Dorset watched as her own A-Wing formed back up with the group off Radie’s left wing. It had taken heavy damage during their escape through the canyons, Implacable at its heels. Kcaj Yeldir had been displeased to see it, but at least the fighter was already scarred. 

He should be done fixing up my A-Wing by now, Dorset thought as she debated whether to put on her worn mechanic’s overalls and check it out. It’s a toss-up which will be patched up more. The insatiable desire to look in on her fighter’s condition - and, if possible, take it out for a quick spin - won out as it always would. Besides, maybe I’ll find out more on where Wraith Squadron disappeared off to, or get to see them return. Hopefully they’re all okay.

The lead-up to the Battle of Folor had seen some sharp banter between her and Wraith Five, as the X-Wings had somehow managed to outrace her and Tetengo through the lunar canyons. Of course it had become the talk of Blue Squadron afterward, undoubtedly because Tetengo let it slip out. Now Dorset was subjected to frequent ribbing from those who knew her best, since she’d previously sworn off dating while under trainee pilot status - she was too focused for that.

“Seriously, Rushi: I meant what I said. He only has eyes for that woman from Toprawa anyway,” Dorset had insisted the last time it came up; Tetengo, Ro’aven, Radie Felian and Elana Donnall had crowded into the room she and her Rodian bunkmate shared. “But you know what they say about the best way to get over someone - I’d be willing to help Kell with that for a night or two.”

He’s handsome, funny and more importantly a good pilot - even if I’m better despite our Folor race. Plus Commander Antilles probably brought him to the Wraiths because of his commando experience, not any screwup status. What’s not to like? Dorset thought before realizing her pale cheeks had flushed and the other pilots were laughing at her again. 

Kriff, why am I trying to justify this to myself? It’s not like I want to date him or anything.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Radie replied sarcastically, digging into a pocket and dropping the necessary coins. “Put me down for five credits that they’re together within a month of the Wraiths’ return.”

Elana, as a newcomer to Blue Squadron from Gold - though she’d known Radie beforehand - took the credits and wrote down the latest entry in the pool. Dorset was embarrassed to see its length, but at least they weren’t opening side bets on her and any other Wraiths. 

“Kriff’s sake,” she muttered. “If word of this gets to Loran or Lieutenant Janson, you’re dead.”

“Uh huh,” Ro’aven answered with a smile. “What’s the starting wager on that happening?”

Dorset sighed. It was mildly annoying, but at least her friends were having fun at her expense - and with the combat to come, they would need as much of it as possible.

Chapter Text

2

When Dorset returned to the hangar, Kcaj Yeldir had shaken his head before she got the words out. No Wraith Squadron arrivals today. She pulled on the mechanic’s coveralls, checked on her fighter’s condition and then switched to a flight suit, lifting off and zipping around the small fleet. 

Blue and Gold squadrons had relocated to the GR-75 Borleias, which was trailed by sister ships Bright Nebula and Brentaal IV. The real strength came from Admiral Ackbar’s MC80 Home One.

It took five days before the Wraiths arrived. No one knew what they had been doing, though General Crespin had told Blue and Gold squadrons the unit was not in danger after four days went by. They also received a warning about miniature parasite ion mines that could secretly attach to both fighters and capital ships. At least Blue Squadron was unaffected, but a Gold Squadron A-Wing was heavily damaged when a mine on its thruster control self-destructed.

The Wraiths might have arrived, according to what Blue Squadron was told, but Dorset didn’t see any of them. Whatever the special unit had been up to, they’d received their own carrier vessel from the New Republic Navy for it. A shuttle had flown back and forth between it and Home One, then the MC80 Star Cruiser jumped away with the three GR-75 transports in tow.

General Crespin resumed training after that; the pilots had gone long enough in their grieving those who died at Folor and the wait to see what had happened to Wraith Squadron. Combat maneuvers were the main focus; it was likely they would be pressed into action again soon.

That meant even more time in simulator practice, especially doing likely real-life engagement scenarios. Dorset was routinely pressed into an aggressor role alongside Crespin and Mayn, given her skill level and existing bonds with the rest of the trainees; at other times she would lead them against a group of TIEs that included Lasko Javal instead.

Once Rogue Squadron boarded Home One - to much fanfare from the younger pilots - they frequently took over TIE simulator duties to build up the trainees’ skills and offer feedback. 

Captain Tycho Celchu led the unit in Commander Wedge Antilles’ absence - but to preserve his cover in the special unit, the Rogues occasionally brought in a pilot who looked like Antilles as a surrogate for events that they knew would attract Imperial attention. Dorset heard the man had been in the Rebellion since Yavin, though he wasn’t able to go on the Death Star mission.

The latest combat simulation had pitted Dorset in a head-to-head dogfight against Ran Kether, Rogue Seven, only to be taken out by surprise when his wingman Koobis Nu got behind her. She chided herself for the inattentiveness, but took it in stride given the level of competition.

The Rogues’ arrival also gave an opportunity for the non-human members of Blue Squadron to meet with fellow members of their species - Rushi talked to Koobis, for instance, while Ro’aven was off to buy drinks for Nawar’aven and Tal’dira. Dorset wished that Dav Otan and Gir Lya’per were still around for this, since the Rogues included a Bothan and previously had a Sullustan.

For her part, Dorset had spent precious credits to treat the Rogues who’d fought at Coruscant with a round of drinks as well. It was worth it to hear the stories they told and see how those compared to what she’d seen on the ground. Dorset was normally timid in the presence of such vaunted heroes, but it was now or never - they’d be on alert status soon, with alcohol prohibited.

The days and weeks that followed brought a series of relatively boring missions, especially with Rogue Squadron sent as the primary attack element while Blue Squadron was held in reserve. At Viamarr 4, they easily avoided having to fight the local defense force of aging Headhunters while Y-Wings left bombed an undeveloped patch of island. Intelligence hadn’t told them what Zsinj planned to use it for, but the craters left behind would certainly be an impediment.

They hit the planet of Belthu next, where the mission target was a durasteel factory. Intelligence operatives on the ground - the Wraiths, perhaps - worked to designate the targets by laser, and the Y-Wings followed their signal to destroy it with proton bombs while the A-Wings flew cover.

The pair of easy missions had rebounded the spirits of Blue Squadron after the losses at Folor. There had been other targets, too, though missions came and went so fast that Dorset wasn’t able to remember where they’d even gone exactly. They bombed assembly factories, supply depots, storage centers for speeders and snubfighters - all of them facilities owned by Zsinj.

But a week and a half later, they heard through fleet rumors that one of the Wraiths was dead. This was soon confirmed when the cruiser they’d been assigned to - they were finally free of the GR-75 - left the staging area at Talasea and arrived at a vacant system known only as M2398.

Security personnel brought in a load of prisoners from a Kuat Super Transport VI container ship, though information about the Wraiths’ vessel was heavily restricted to just the command staff.

“It was Jesmin Ackbar,” Carmiya Rendon said with a tone of grim finality. The new member of Blue Squadron was in the best position to know; her older brother was a captain on Home One.

“What happened?” Rushi asked. The group of core remaining Blues that Carmiya was talking to included Lasko, Radie, Ro’aven, Tetengo and Dorset.

“You cannot tell anyone else about this - all I know is there was some kind of pirate attack. Word is the Wraiths’ Officer Tainer did some crazy maneuvers trying to save her though,” the blonde trainee added, poking her former mentor on Folor in the shoulder playfully.

Dorset responded by scowling at the entire group and shaking her head. “Seriously, you’re all exaggerating things there. So I flirted with him a bit at Folor, but that’s all and no more. Besides - how do you even know about this, Carmiya? Was Tetengo running his mouth again?”

The others looked around shiftily and didn’t answer Dorset’s question. Carmiya was spared from further scrutiny when the ship’s alarm klaxon sounded. They all jumped to their feet, zipping up flight suits and grabbing helmets before breaking into a run for the hangar. The A-Wings had been powered on and were lifting up with repulsorlifts when General Crespin got on the comm.

“Alright, that drill is complete - well done. Remember that the next simulation is in three hours.”

This was life on alert status: frequent chit-chats, sabacc games, watching holofilms, meals. All of it could end at the drop of a credit coin when enemy forces were detected or a drill began.

But soon, General Crespin said, they would be fighting a battle at Talasea on their own terms.

Chapter Text

3

The Talasea battle ended in victory, though not because of anything that Blue Squadron did. Wraith Squadron was only supposed to start the trap, but their fighters and an accompanying light carrier took out the enemy ships before the other New Republic forces could engage. The expected Star Destroyer Implacable never arrived to the battle, for reasons unknown.

The trainee pilots celebrated all the same once they’d landed, as their Talasea base included several inflatable domes for quarters and a mess tent. General Crespin and Captain Mayn were in the senior officers’ one with Commander Antilles, so the rest of Blue Squadron was at ease to help themselves to beers and cheap brandy - disgusting stuff, but at least it was stronger.

In spite of all the ribbing she’d endured, Dorset was a little disappointed to see that Kell Tainer wasn’t taking part in the festivities. It was probably for the best though; at this rate her friends would never let it go if they saw Dorset gave Kell a “we may die in the next battle” proposition.

Besides, the very last thing I need would be for him to transfer his feelings about Sarkin on to me. If anything happens - and that’s unlikely - I’ll make sure they all know it’s strictly casual.

Now that she thought about it, Dorset didn’t see Tyria Sarkin around either. She suppressed a smile at that, scanning the dome again and coming up empty. Dorset did see Falynn chatting with Myn Donos; the Tatooine woman offered a friendly wave and raised her beer in salute.

Dorset refilled her own pint and moseyed over to Sandskimmer as Myn headed the opposite way for a fresh glass of his own. She nodded warmly at the man and was pleasantly surprised to see it returned; whatever the Wraiths had been up to had apparently restored him from his trauma-induced shell. Or maybe Falynn had that effect on people, in spite of her cold exterior.

“From what I hear, your squadron has managed to win over General Crespin already - if that isn’t worth a drink, I don’t know what is,” Dorset said with a grin as they clinked their glasses. Falynn didn’t look as pleased. “We lost some good people in the battle,” she explained. “Our bridge crew didn’t make it - the ship took a direct hit at the beginning of the engagement.”

“Sithspit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. We’re going to make Zsinj answer for it soon.” Falynn’s face was set in determination. “The plan is to head back in, arrange a fresh ambush and bring the hammer down on Implacable.”

“Then Blue Squadron will have your back. Once this is all over, we should have some kind of race - A-Wings versus X-Wings like Kell and I did, or even another ore-hauler one.”

Falynn did smile at that. “I guess word of old Commander Antilles’ little stunt got around too.”

Myn had returned, though he didn’t bring any beer back with him after all. “Wraith Squadron’s assembling in 10 minutes for a briefing. Your group probably has one as well, Officer Konnair.”

Dorset nodded, offering Falynn a quick farewell and then smiling wryly as the couple had their own last moment together before the war resumed. 

She finished off her drink at that and glanced around - Tetengo and Rushi were talking to each other, of course, while Varyl Vellis was at the bar along with Cran Temarch and Elana Donnall. General Crespin had entered the dome and gave a nod to her and Captain Todra Mayn, then held up seven fingers. Dorset weaved through the crowd, passing the word on to Third Flight.

General Crespin told them that they’d have another chance at bringing down Implacable and avenging their friends lost at Folor, plus so many more. Talon Squadron, the New Republic’s people at Noquivzor, who knows how many civilians, and now this bridge crew. They’ll pay.

Three days later, they learned where this attack would be - Ession, in the Corporate Sector.

“Wraith Squadron’s element will be on station before our arrival, so keep a close eye on IFF contacts,” General Crespin told the assembled pilots of Blue Squadron as they waited.

“I’m not particularly fond of it, but we’ll be deploying from a Super Transport Mark VI vessel rather than the MC80. The benefit is that this should get us through the outer security zone. Launch will be preceded by a staged loss of structural integrity in the Mark VI in position for Green Squadron’s Y-Wings to attack their target, the Pakkerd Light Transport plant. We will provide cover along with Rogue Squadron, then support the Wraiths in their attack on Trigit. Mission code word is ‘Talon Strike.’ In addition to the Wraiths’ TIEs, they have the corvette.”

The pilots dispersed after their briefing and loaded the fighters into the hulking ship; most elected to remain in the cockpits rather than get out. Dorset was among them - it wasn’t as comfortable of a ride, but she lacked faith in the Super Transport’s ability to retain integrity before they needed it to fall apart and give them a covert launch opening.

No plan goes perfectly; I do not want to get tossed out in space if this op ends in disaster.

Dorset’s blood chilled at the thought as she remembered the lyrics to a particularly gory pilots’ running song on that topic of death in the vacuum of space - his lungs burst, his eyes were boiled; his body doubled, the skin nearly tore; And he won’t be flying any more.

“Just shut the kriff up,” she growled to herself from the safety of the sealed A-Wing cockpit. Dorset wondered idly why the Wraiths weren’t stashing their CR-90 corvette in the Super Transport VI either; it had enough room for two of those even with all the snubfighters.

“We’re passing through the outer security belt - all pilots stand by,” General Crespin told the squadrons - Blue, the Y-Wings of Green and the Rogues’ X-Wings. That would put them near one of the planet’s warehouse space stations, and minutes away from deployment on target.

The pre-timed cracks in the ship’s hull began to form, and Dorset could see air escaping in all directions. The ship began to wobble as it entered the atmosphere, and the flames sped their faux disintegration. At last the hull broke apart, dropping the expected cargo containers - and the 36 snubfighters hidden within.

They were in an uncontrolled freefall, a critical part of tricking the ground control into thinking this was nothing but metal scraps. It was an uncomfortable descent without power, and Dorset relied solely on the ticking chrono to identify when to turn on her engines. 

The canopy was glowing orange as the A-Wing began to enter atmosphere at 300 kilometers above Ession’s surface - and the chrono beeped. Dorset sighed, sweating slightly at the fiery view, and activated the engines to ensure an atmospheric entry angle that wouldn’t burn her A-Wing to a crisp. At least we don’t have to drop the whole way without power.

The earliest snubfighters in the galaxy didn’t have the ability to sustain communications during atmospheric entry, but these fighters faced no such problems.

The message from the Wraiths’ command ship came in as clear as a voice in the cockpit.

“Talon Strike.”

Chapter Text

4

Dorset didn’t know the details, but the Wraiths had hidden themselves in an even better position than the three squadrons within the Super Transport VI. They bloodied Implacable’s nose in the first salvo of the day, a torpedo strike that crippled the bridge and blew up both shield domes.

Of course, that was only possible because Implacable’s fighter screen had been drawn away to pursue the three squadrons. The Rogues and Blues did an effective job of protecting the Green Squadron Y-Wings while they bombed the TIE factory and accompanying hangar, with support from a commando team that had already neutralized the launch tubes needed by ground TIEs.

Now that Implacable was in mortal danger - and the factory was already lost to Zsinj’s forces - those TIE Fighters began a hasty retreat to protect their Star Destroyer. The fast interceptors of Blue Squadron gave chase, firing at the TIEs. Each fighter destroyed would help lower the odds Wraith Squadron was about to face, after all, and would remind them A-Wings were superior.

Dorset grinned as she easily pursued the fleeing mass of TIEs from Implacable, then fired continuously while passing through their ranks at a speed even the enemy Interceptors would find difficult to match. An X-Wing circled back around - she wasn’t sure where from - and began firing on an Interceptor at maximum distance, landing a shot that took off half its wing.

That’s good aim - but I can do better, Dorset resolved as she veered after a pair of enemy interceptors to starboard and blasted away with her swiveling fire. The X-Wing had dove in toward a full group, so she swung back around to provide support after destroying her two targets. That makes me a double ace now - I think. With all the recent missions they’d been undertaking day in and day out, it was hard to keep an exact figure from memory.

Dorset picked off another at intermediate range, then heard the beeping alarm of a targeting lock. The X-Wing had her in its sights now and she was prepared to order him off with a few choice curses before the Wraith broke off of its own accord, rolling into a loop that gave her clear fire against the TIE Interceptor chasing him.

“Is that Blue Squadron?” the pilot asked, strained by the force of his maneuver. She could tell this was Kell and grinned. “Blue Nine here to save your tail, Wraith Five,” Dorset replied while squeezing the trigger and vaporizing the squint directly ahead, then rolled back around and zoomed past him as she confirmed that she knew there were friendly TIEs in the battle.

Now it’s my turn to be bait. She dove headlong into the TIEs with Kell behind her, letting him scatter fire all around her as she weaved back and forth and matched him with selective shots against some of the Interceptors. One expertly dodged both of their lasers and streaked by; Dorset saw horizontal red stripes on the top and bottom wing arrays. 

Bright stars above, it’s the kriffing 181st. Dorset swallowed hard, feeling beads of sweat trickle down her back. How in the hells of the Sith did they end up flying for Zsinj? Her mouth was dry. 

“Kell, did you see that?” Maybe he knows about it, with whatever undercover ops they’ve done.

In the distance, another Interceptor had bracketed one of the Wraiths’ X-Wings and scorched it, forcing the pilot to eject. At least a Lambda shuttle was inbound to recover the survivor.

“Yeah - it’s them all right. But the Rogues are 20 seconds out, they’ll have our backs.”

If he’s still cool under this kind of pressure then I have to be as well - at least on comms.  

“Tetengo, where are you?” Dorset forced the words out lightly, even though she was drenched in sweat now. Her eyes darted around the canopy glass, watching for any squints with the stripes.

“Coming back in now, Nine. I see you found another X-Wing friend,” her wingman answered.

“Oh, that’s just Wraith Five. Wanna stick with us, Kell? It’ll be like old times in the Folor canyon.”

“Thanks, but I should be getting back over to my squadron. Another time, Blue Nine.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Wraith. Think you can go kill Baron Fel for me?”

Normally I’d insist that’s a job for us A-Wing pilots, but I guess with Kell I’m feeling generous.

“We’ll see. If I do, you’re paying my tab at New DownTime.”

The X-Wing veered away before Dorset could come up with another snappy comment, and she swiftly refocused on combat. They were outnumbered, even with the high kill ratio the Rogues brought to the table, and this was very much a slugging match. At least one of the Wraiths was chewing up Implacable from the inside. More than that - the Imp Star Deuce was falling now.

The destroyer’s slow descent toward the moon came at a cost, though - comm traffic indicated that one of the Wraiths had been obliterated in a turbolaser strike and another was stuck within the ship. Dorset cursed as she heard Falynn order her squadmates to leave her behind.

Maybe an A-Wing can do something about it that an X-Wing can’t. She pushed her thrusters to the redline and aimed for the descending capital ship, keeping its keel at the center of her view. 

“Falynn, this is Blue Nine - Dorset. I may be able to get inside Implacable and free a way out.” She had switched her comms to a private channel with Sandskimmer as Gray Two.

“Just stay away, Dorset. I’m stuck in here, it’s no use. Try it and I will shoot to keep you out.”

Escape pods were firing off in all directions from the doomed vessel as a woman’s voice broke into the channel, telling the New Republic pilots that Trigit himself had fled along with two TIEs.

Kriff, Falynn. You just had to try and be the best at taking down an Imp Star from within.

The Implacable hit the lunar surface back first, seconds after a CR90 corvette tagged as friendly veered out of the way, and crumpled on impact. Moments later the fuel cells exploded, tearing the command bridge free for an instant until the pylon fell back into the flames. The bow spun off and then hit the ground. 

Falynn’s gone.

One of the Wraiths cried out, a wordless exclamation of grief. Dorset focused on keeping her own pain in check, her back stiff as transparisteel.

Antilles was requesting a ceasefire from the remaining Imperial forces, inviting them to leave. The commander of Implacable’s remaining TIEs refused the offer, only to be gunned down by another Imp pilot. The man’s voice was unmistakably Corellian, his words precise. No way.

Dorset’s chills grew and her hands shook slightly as the adrenaline wore down. The battle was still ongoing for her commander and one of the Wraiths - Donos, she thought. The pair were pursuing the three TIEs the mystery Imperial woman had said included Trigit. 

Their chase was short and successful.

Chapter Text

5

Dorset wasn’t sure how she felt about a celebration on Borleias so soon after the battle and the Wraiths who had died in it, but that squadron didn’t appear to be holding back. Maybe that’s one of the things General Crespin doesn’t like about them. Dorset had expected that Myn Donos, at least, would be mourning Falynn based on the interactions she’d seen between them. 

Then again, he was sitting somewhat apart from the other Wraiths who were on the puff-cots. Dorset hadn’t known Falynn very well - so little, in fact, that she wondered how much right she had to grieve the loss - but could easily imagine the Tatooine woman wouldn’t have wanted her death to dampen a party over destroying a Star Destroyer and avenging Donos’ squadron.

Janson and Klivian zipped by on recreational speeders; most of the Rogues were still on alert but Captain Celchu had given Hobbie leave to reunite with his friend and former co-commander of the training units. Dorset smiled, wondering if that had been granted after Janson threatened to see the Rogues instead and cause all sorts of mischief within Celchu’s command.

Most of Blue Squadron was on the other side of a sand dune behind her, sharing stories of their part in the battle, but Dorset had wandered aside for a moment of introspection. Dogfighting the 181st represented the most nerve-wracking moment of her life - even if it had ended without any Blue Squadron casualties, unlike their simulated battles with the New Republic elites in Rogue Squadron - and she was still coming down from that test of skill and mettle. 

As flight leader, Dorset couldn’t let the others see how scared she’d been. So she walked away just past the water’s edge, feeling the cool tide at her ankles and the breeze in her short hair.

Drawing a deep breath, she could almost taste the salt from the seawater below her and smiled; this wasn’t something Dorset was used to on Coruscant. The Wraiths and personnel from their corvette were arrayed on the beach to her right, and she glanced at her shimmering reflection.

After weeks on alert duty, Blue Squadron had been eager for the R&R given by General Crespin and a chance to wear clothes other than their flight suits. Even Dorset, perfectly at home in such functional attire, had been pleased to try something new. She opted for turquoise swim wear that left her tattoos on full display, with a teal headband that matched her eyes and kept her hair back so the star-flare tattoo was entirely visible as well. There was little the swim wear could do to accentuate her slight figure, but its iridescence was certainly eye-catching in other ways.

Her insistence to the other Blue Squadron pilots aside, Dorset hoped it would get the attention of one Wraith in particular. If anything was going to happen between her and Kell tonight - and she did just mean tonight, in spite of what the others wagered - the post-battle celebrations posed her best chance. She’d even borrowed a tube of Elana Donnall’s lipstick, and the artificial red stood in sharp contrast to her pale skin, aqua blue eyes and night-black hair.

Dorset was meandering up the beach now, passing a table where the Wraiths’ Gamorrean and Thakwaash pilots were engaged in a drinking contest. She tried to make her walk look casual.

Finally Dorset saw where Kell was, and couldn’t help but laugh in amusement at the realization of how wasted her efforts had been. The Wraith was seated on a puff-cot and talking to Admiral Ackbar - but more than that, he had Tyria Sarkin curled up and sleeping against his shoulder.

See, Dors? That’s what happens when you fly off course instead of just being a pilot. Well done, Tainer. I guess you don’t need me for anything after all.  

Dorset smiled and turned away with a shrug, walking back to the sea and sliding into the waves. She spent a good half hour out there, mainly swimming once she’d ducked her head under and gotten the lipstick off.

After that, Dorset returned to the revelry of her squadron. Radie Felian gave her a towel and a pint, saying she had a lot of catching up to do compared to the rest of them. Ro’aven was sitting by one of the inflatable couches with Tetengo and Rushi, their relationship no longer secret. 

It hadn’t been much of one among the other flight officers anyway. Elana Donnall brought the group a set of puffer pig skewers while Varyl Vellis and Carmiya Rendon wheeled over a new keg of lomin-ale. No wonder the rest were celebrating: Blue Squadron hadn’t lost anyone this time, while Falynn and Grinder had kept a lot of distance from most others even in their unit.

General Crespin and Captain Mayn were headed back to the group from the top of a nearby hill; Dorset could see two others standing there by a skimmer. Lasko Javal trailed the commanders; she’d been wondering where the top pilot of their training days had gone and meant to offer her congratulations to him on making double ace as well. That will probably have to wait now.

“As you were,” Crespin said to the group. “I just briefed Starfighter Command Chief Rieekan on the 181st’s apparent role in Zsinj’s ranks, and he requested I tell you this was a job well done.” 

The Rebel-era general hadn’t been a pilot, but he’d worked with Rogue Squadron enough to earn the new position in the absence of any command pilots who survived past combat age.

“You’ll be back on duty awaiting orders in three days,” Crespin was saying. “But you’re done as a training unit. Captain Mayn will be taking over as commander; a decision on executive officer will be made shortly. We’ll be looking for a new squadron name, so start thinking about that.”

With that, Crespin and Mayn left the pilots to their own devices - and even encouraged mingling with the Wraiths - as a set of cooked bantha steaks were brought in for the assembled pilots. 

The steaks brought the Wraiths over in short order, and Dorset looked around to see how Myn was reacting to the sight of a Tatooine delicacy so soon after Falynn’s death. He looked sad, of course, but at least there were no traces of catatonic shock any more.

Kell and Tyria were not far behind; the former commando was brushing back Sarkin’s tousled hair now that she was awake. Half of Blue Squadron had seen the couple and offered her a sympathetic expression, but Dorset smiled easily to let them know it was all right. 

Then she fixed Tetengo, Carmiya and Elana with a cold stare and made a quick slashing motion just below her chin, a warning that they better not mention anything on her past desires to Kell. 

As expected, Tainer and his Thakwaash wingman Runt were eager to meet her and Tetengo, given their success in the Folor Base evacuation. She put up with a fair amount of ribbing from them over the race, but if he kept it up she’d be obligated to grab proper clothes and find some swoop bikes they could race on equal terms. 

Tyria interceded before that happened, though, asking the two Blue Squadron pilots about who was running the New Republic flight training center on Coruscant now. She seemed hesitant to bring up the topic, Dorset thought, and Kell looked worried about it as well. Dorset had to leave that for Tetengo to answer, however, as Captain Mayn was requesting a word over the comlink.  

Dorset offered a salute, though it felt somewhat absurd given her attire. “Yes, captain?”

“I wanted to discuss where you see yourself going as part of this new squadron, and beyond.”

She nodded in response. “Leading a flight in combat has been manageable, but I don’t know that my leadership skills would meet the level needed for a full squadron. I know flight leader positions have been used to prep for that, so I would understand if you pick someone else to lead Third Flight.”

Mayn sighed. “I was hoping you might be the executive officer, but I appreciate the forthright look at your own limitations. I’ll see if Captain Lark can return for that in a non-combat way.”

Dorset returned to the group after that; Carmiya Rendon was talking to Sarkin now while Tetengo carried on the conversation with Kell and Runt for both of them. She smiled upon seeing that, knowing he would be just as relentless in defending the A-Wing capabilities.

They carried on for at least another 90 minutes, other Wraiths and Blues joining and leaving along the way, and by the end of it Dorset was glad to count Kell and Tyria as new friends.

Chapter Text

6

Captain Mayn had opened the floor for squadron name suggestions, and Dorset glanced around the room to see who would be first. They were in one of the briefing rooms on Mon Remonda now, wearing plain orange flight suits in the absence of a unit insignia to match their new name.

“Hellcat,” Radie said, opening their discussion with inspiration from the predators of her native Corellia. “It would be a good complement with the X-Wing squadron on Mon Karren.”

“Or Skyraider,” Ro’aven added as she sharpened a nail. The Twi’lek warrior pilot was reclining in one of the couches at the center of the room, while her red-haired wingwoman paced nearby.

“We could be Saber Squadron,” Carmiya offered. Dorset wasn’t surprised since the woman was very fond of Jedi stories. She and Falynn would have clashed there, she thought sadly.

Dorset raised a hand in response. “I was thinking either Dagger or Dart,” she chimed in. “We’ll be the lead weapon in General Solo’s fleet, and Vanguard is already taken by an X-Wing unit.”

“What about Lightning, to reflect how quickly we strike?” That was Elana’s suggestion.

“I heard one of the Y-Wing squadrons on Battle Dog claimed that,” Lasko told her. “Thunderbolt would’ve worked too, but a bomber group on Delindo is using it as well.”

“Phantom might fit,” Tetengo said after a brief pause, but all he received were boos.

“That would just sound like we’re copying the Wraiths,” Elana replied. “We can’t have that.”

She’s new, but at least she gets our rivalry with X-Wing jockeys.

“I’m surprised the Wraiths didn’t go with Fulcrum, given the history of Rebel operatives using it,” Carmiya commented. “Not saying we should adopt it,” she hastily added, holding her hands up.

“How do you feel about Peregrine?” asked Varyl, Tetengo’s new wingman and a former Imperial pilot. Radie raised her glass to that, given its reference to Corellian legend.

Rushi raised a gloved hand. “I liked the weapon-based ideas from earlier, but we should have one that really represents our role at the leading edge of the fleet. Do you like Polearm?”

That drew applause; it was a perfect encapsulation of how they saw their role in A-Wings. The unit now had a new name.

Their squadron patch quickly followed that - a simple design of a white polearm bisecting a circle that was blue on one side and gold on the other. They also chose to trade the plain orange flight suits for crimson ones at Radie’s suggestion, but kept their standard New Republic white-colored life support vests.

Four weeks later, the Polearms had taken part in a half dozen engagements that still left them no closer to eradicating Zsinj’s forces. His Star Destroyers and other ships would routinely cut and run as soon as New Republic vessels arrived in system. It wasn’t an act of fear; instead it left them largely unaware of his exact strength and what role the 181st might be playing.

And more often than not, his attacks left a New Republic base or civilian colony bombed to smoldering rubble. Iron Fist didn’t even take part, with the exception of one of the six fights.

Many New Republic pilots would have been glad to avoid engaging the Super Star Destroyer, but not Dorset. She had grown up under Imperial control on Coruscant, and after its liberation she enlisted to help free other planets from similar conditions. Plus Dorset craved a challenge.

The latest mission had come too late to see any of the warlord’s forces at all, though; Polearm Squadron had been relegated to flying combat patrol for search and rescue elements. Landing back on Mon Remonda complete, they exited their A-Wings and headed for the showers - time to wash up, change and check messages from home before gathering back in the mess to eat.

Dorset finished drying off and pulled on a loose-fitting shirt thirty minutes later, then glanced over at the list of unread communications. Nothing from her parents - though that was to be expected - but she did have one from an old bartender pal on Coruscant.

Another five minutes, and Dorset was sharing the information with Rushi, Tetengo, Ro’aven, Radie and Lasko Javal over dinner.

“The exact details may have been spun up along the way, but this is what I heard: Zsinj’s people just carried out an attempt to assassinate the Wraiths,” she relayed. “They staged a bar fight and then sent fake MPs to kill them, but the squadron mowed down two full skimmers worth.”

Lasko let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive, even if they are equally a commando squad.”

“Do you know what they’re up to now?” Ro’aven asked.

Dorset shook her head, hiding a smile. The Twi’lek woman could’ve been a formidable member of a pilot and commando unit herself, but that would mean switching to X-Wings. And, of course, the Wraiths had started out as a unit of screwups.

“I’m sure it’s another top secret assignment that we may never hear about,” she replied. Dorset wasn’t jealous - she didn’t have interest in anything except flying, especially not a mix of ground combat and intelligence work.

“They already posed as members of Zsinj’s own navy,” Rushi said, tapping her long fingers. “I’m not sure what new undercover action they could take. But I’m sure they’ll come up with one.”

Like most of the Starfighter Command regulars, they regarded Wraith Squadron with a blend of bemusement and curiosity. The unit defied almost all normal convention, but at least they had a tendency to procure their own replacement equipment rather than drawing on the shared supply.

Of course, they still gave the more discipline-minded command staff like Generals Crespin and Salm fits. Commander Varth will probably wreck several mental gaskets when he hears of them.

The group soon learned that the answers to their questions might come faster than expected.

“The Wraiths are here,” Elana said as she pointed out the window to a line of landing X-Wings.

Chapter Text

Dramatis Personae No. 2

Polearm Squadron
Captain Todra Mayn, Polearm Leader (Human female from Commenor)
Cran Temarch, Polearm Two (Human male from Agamar)
Elana Donnall, Polearm Three (Human female from Anoat)
Carmiya Rendon, Polearm Four (Human female from Eriadu)
Lasko Javal, Polearm Five (Human male from Corellia)
Nuro Tualin, Polearm Six (Twi’lek male from Ryloth)
Dorset Konnair, Polearm Seven (Human female from Coruscant)
Rushi Yivet, Polearm Eight (Rodian female from Rodia)
Tetengo Noor, Polearm Nine (Human male from Churba) 
Varyl Vellis, Polearm Ten (Human male from Drexel) 
Radielle “Radie” Felian, Polearm Eleven (Human female from Corellia)
Ro’aven, Polearm Twelve (Twi’lek female from Ryloth)
Captain Wyl Lark, Executive Officer (Human male from Polyneus)

Wraith Squadron
Commander Wedge Antilles, Wraith Leader (Human male from Corellia)
Castin Donn, Wraith Two (Human male from Coruscant)
Lieutenant Wes Janson, Wraith Three (Human male from Taanab)
Dia Passik, Wraith Four (Twi’lek female from Ryloth)
Lieutenant Kell Tainer, Wraith Five (Human male from Sluis Van)
Hohass “Runt” Ekwesh, Wraith Six (Thakwaash male from Thakwaa)
Ton Phanan, Wraith Seven (Human male from Rudrig)
Lieutenant Garik “Face” Loran, Wraith Eight (Human male from Pantolomin)
Lieutenant Myn Donos, Wraith Nine (Human male from Corellia)
Shalla Nelprin, Wraith Ten (Human female from Ingo)
Tyria Sarkin, Wraith Eleven (Human female from Toprawa)
Voort “Piggy” saBinring, Wraith Twelve (Gamorrean male from Gamorr)
Lara Notsil, Wraith Thirteen (Human female from Aldivy)

Rogue Squadron
Captain Tycho Celchu, Rogue Two (Human male from Alderaan)
Pedna Scotian, Rogue Three (Chev female from Vinsoth)
Derek “Hobbie” Klivian, Rogue Four (Human male from Ralltiir)
Tal’dira, Rogue Five (Twi’lek male from Ryloth)
Gavin Darklighter, Rogue Six (Human male from Tatooine)
Ran Kether, Rogue Seven (Human male from Chandrila)
Koobis Nu, Rogue Eight (Rodian male from Rodia)
Corran Horn, Rogue Nine (Human male from Corellia)
Ooryl Qrygg, Rogue Ten (Gand male from Gand)
Asyr Sei’lar, Rogue Eleven (Bothan female from Bothawui)
Inyri Forge, Rogue Twelve (Human female from Kessel)
Nawara Ven, Executive Officer (Twi’lek male from Ryloth)

7

The Wraiths disembarked and then spent their time setting up in new quarters, though Dorset and other Polearm Squadron pilots went on their rounds to reunite with the ones they knew. 

With Kell and his wingman Runt still on some secret operation, that was mainly Tyria. Dorset had spent time with Myn Donos, but that was in conjunction with Falynn Sandskimmer.

“I won’t ask what your latest operation involves. I just hope you’re not flying TIE Fighters now,” Dorset said as the two women sat in Tyria’s barely unpacked room.

“For the most part no - many of us upgraded to Squints,” Tyria told her.

Dorset suppressed a shudder. TIE Interceptors are fast, but still unshielded.

“I know,” Tyria said. “At least we’re going out in X-Wings tomorrow. And with the Rogues.”

“You… You haven’t heard anything about Colonel Repness’ arrest have you?” Tyria continued.

“No, I never had to deal with him. Is that from some Wraith op when you were on Coruscant?”

Tyria glanced down at the floor. “I was just curious,” she told Dorset. That’s a bad lie.

Dorset didn’t press the issue further, but wished her a good night. Face Loran was walking the opposite direction in the hallway, looking relieved. 

While the two X-Wing squadrons were dispatched on their own mission the following day, the pilots of Polearm and Nova squadrons were held in reserve for any of Zsinj’s border attacks. 

None came, for a change, and they were able to take a day to relax.

The resulting upbeat mood extended into evening the day after the operation, and the full set of Mon Remonda’s pilots had time to eat dinner together.

Having picked up their meal trays, the trio of A-Wing pilots - Dorset, Tetengo and Rushi - walked to the seating area for the officer’s mess and looked for a place to eat. Rushi pointed toward the newest member of Wraith Squadron, a lightly built woman with downy blonde hair who ate alone.

The pilot appeared to be frowning, lost in thought - Dorset had heard from some of the Wraiths that she’d shot down a TIE Fighter for the first time during yesterday’s mission to Lavisar.

“Do you mind if we join you?” Rushi asked as they approached. The woman looked up, startled, but nodded after a moment. “We’re all former pilots from General Crespin’s Blue Squadron and members of Polearm now,” the Rodian continued, introducing herself and the others by name. “Nice job taking down that barve Repness - we only recently got through training ourselves.”

“Guess word gets around fast aboard ship,” Lara Notsil responded, her face and tightly hunched shoulders still displaying tension even as she smiled at Rushi’s comment. Tetengo didn’t know it, but Crespin had asked the two women to keep an eye on Notsil in her first days with the fleet.

“So, I heard you’re from an agriworld too,” Tetengo said as he launched into conversation, not seeing the looks of growing horror on Dorset and Rushi’s faces - they’d heard much more of Lara’s story than he apparently had. “My family distills brandy on Churba, what about yours?”

“’Tengo!” Rushi hissed, shaking her head furiously. The damage was done - Notsil looked like a bantha cub who had wandered in front of a speeder. “I - uh - I’d really rather not talk about that,” Lara stammered, using both hands to brush her hair back. Dorset blinked, recognizing the hand movement as a common stress reaction for those who had grown up on Coruscant or nearby.

That bastard Trigit even made her replicate Core World mannerisms, she thought, her glare at Tetengo deepening. Lara had stood up - offering some excuse about how she needed to pack before the Wraiths departed, which Dorset knew was a lie - and left her half-eaten meal behind. Who can blame her, though, after everything she went through got brought back up like that?

“Real nice going, Ten,” Dorset growled as she addressed her former wingman by both his old Blue Squadron identifier and the most abbreviated version of his name. “You had to say that?”

“I don’t understand,” Tetengo responded, blinking, as Rushi groaned. “Is she not fond of home?”

Dorset sighed. “Before we eliminated Trigit at Ession, word is he raided Lara’s planet and took her prisoner. I think even you can figure out the rest there. She was able to get into an escape pod before Implacable went down and spent the next two weeks recovering on Borleias.”

Tetengo had turned even paler than Dorset during the explanation, which was saying quite a lot. 

Dorset stopped short, racking her brain for a moment. I’ve seen Lara before, but I don’t think it was at the Borleias field hospital? Forget it, Dors, that’s the only place it could have been.

After dinner, she spent the next three hours in simulators where she sought to test her skills against the best representation of Raptor pilots that Intelligence data could currently provide.

Following that, Dorset slept - and for the first time in months dreamed of Coruscant. Strangely, this involved a memory from her past: a boring event for Academy cadets and hangers-on seeking to marry an officer candidate. Her parents had made her help out at the pre-Alderaan gathering in the hope it would open 12-year-old Dorset’s eyes to a career beyond the cockpit.

She’d stubbornly spent the night instead talking to some of the Imperial pilots about flying, and the dream brought back a specific conversation she had there. Dorset struggled with recalling any details of it beyond the participants, though. One had been a woman from the Outer Rim, still a pilot despite being on the academy command track. They’d been joined by a few others - a Kuati woman, a Coruscant hotelier’s daughter, a male cadet from the same Outer Rim world.

Dorset had no idea why the memory came back, but ignored it. She had missions to focus on.

Chapter Text

8

The Wraiths had disappeared back into secrecy, leaving Polearm Squadron to reclaim their status as the fists of the fleet. General Solo was sending them to strike a pirate base on a volcanic planet called Djurmo, and so they filed in for the pre-operational briefing.

“I’m sweaty just looking at this,” Dorset muttered to herself as the holo displayed a rotating image of the world. She dug into her flight bag and pulled out a powder blue headband.

“The Djurmo system is nominally in the territory of the remaining Empire,” Captain Mayn began. “Despite this, pirates called the Magma Marauders are targeting nearby shipping from both the New Republic and Imperial forces. Intelligence believes they have been recruited by Warlord Zsinj as privateers. Our objective is to eliminate their operations in full. Tycho?”

Captain Celchu, temporary leader of the Rogues, picked up from there. “Reconnaissance probes returned these images of the pirate base,” he said as the holographic planet morphed into them. The first picture showed a wide hangar, enough for a full squadron and support ships, carved in the side of a dormant volcano. Other images displayed a sensor tower and anti-fighter turrets.

“Polearm, assisted by Rogue, will take the lead role in engaging the pirate starfighters - 16 hybrid V-Wing bodies with Vulture droid wings, and a set of four old Republic Nu-class shuttles modified to serve as assault gunboats. They also operate out of a Venator-class cruiser that will be in orbit. Nova Squadron will destroy the cruiser, with support from our ISD-II Skyhook. The Y-Wings of Thunderbolt will support ground troops attacking their hangar. Questions?”

Radie raised her hand first. “Why are we all being moved away from Remonda and Delindo?”

“For operational reasons I can’t disclose, we want to hide the New Republic’s involvement.”

“Couldn’t Skyhook bombard their base from orbit then? I’m all for taking out pirates ourselves, but that would seem like a safer way to solve the problem and make it look like Imps,” one of Nova Squadron’s pilots said next.

That point was addressed by the Y-Wing commander, a blonde woman with an eyepatch and a limp that gave away the artificial leg on her left side as well. 

“We believe the pirates are holding prisoners on site, so orbital bombardment isn’t an option. Ground teams will deploy from U-Wings and mop up any stragglers in the hangar area.”

“Why do they call themselves Magma Marauders?” This came from one of the Rogues, a brown-haired man with a moustache and slight beard. 

Captains Celchu and Mayn shifted uncomfortably. “Intel reports they have a habit of using vials of lava as an interrogation tool,” Celchu said. “We recommend avoiding capture at all costs.”

“Sorry I asked. Do you have any information on who’s in this outfit?”

“A few Huraloks are the ringleaders; beyond that they’re an assorted set of humans, Weequays, Nikto and some Gamorrean sentries. I can’t give any actual names, Corran - that’s your area.”

With that, Captain Celchu transformed the final image into a three-dimensional display of the base and the Marauders’ Venator in orbit. The pilots were free to move in and study the setup further; the Y-Wing squadron took particular note of the modified turbolaser emplacements. 

They probably pulled a third of the Venator’s guns, since it wouldn’t need them against civilian vessels and would be badly outgunned against a modern capital ship anyway, Dorset thought.

“The sensor will be our primary target, in order to eliminate ground-based fire control. Engaging their hybrid starfighters shouldn’t be much of a challenge either,” Captain Mayn finished. “We’ll have support from a VCX-100 that will jam any messages to Zsinj. It won’t need escort either.”

Three hours later, and they dropped out of hyperspace just beyond the sulfuric atmosphere of Djurmo. It was almost breathtaking, in an inhospitable way. White clouds whipped by at around 200 klicks an hour, forcing them to fight the controls to stay on course as they dove through the mesosphere toward the enemy base. The ground temperature was 120 standard degrees - if you avoided the molten lava lakes. The infantry section would have their work cut out for them.

Of course the pirates picked this hell ball. No one in their right mind would come here, Dorset thought as they flew through clouds that shifted from white to dark gray, brightened only by the occasional flash of orange lightning. Fist-sized chunks of tellurium bounced off her A-Wing like metallic hail, and she cursed under her breath before increasing the ship’s internal fan rate.

The vents offered a much-needed blast of chilly air for 20 seconds, then Dorset heard the fan sputter and grind to a halt. “Oh, kriff me!” she swore, knocking her gloved palm into the motor housing’s side panel three times with no success. Five minutes, and I hate this place already.

“Leader, Seven - I’ve lost internal cooling,” Dorset told Captain Mayn over the comm channel. “Should still be combat effective as long as it doesn’t spread to other critical systems.”

“Keep an eye on it, and don’t overload anything,” Mayn replied before switching to the full unit. “Everyone, watch the level of your cooling capacitors - Konnair’s just cut out on her.”

Dorset groaned; Mayn didn’t know it but her tendency to sweat on missions had become a well of humor for the core group of Blue-to-Polearm pilots. Now they’re going to have a field day on this. And we’re coming in clear as day, so Mayn can’t even admonish them for comm discipline.

Ten minutes later and Dorset had suffered through the fourth joke: Elana Donnall was offering bets that her A-Wing would fly back on autopilot and they’d find no sign of Dorset but a soggy flight suit and sweat-filled boots.

“You’re giving me ideas about where to put these boots,” she fired back. Dorset felt miserable - sweat all over her forehead, under her arms, down her stomach, on her legs - but they were pretty funny. She finished the last of her once-cold water - with her luck it would boil soon, and she couldn’t afford to have that steam up the canopy - then put her focus to getting through the mission. 

“Sensor contact!” Carmiya Rendon reported; Dorset felt a bit of pride since she’d mentored the woman on Folor. “I count 10, repeat one-oh, hybrid fighters rising to meet us. Altitude is seven klicks up, approaching from oh-two-five degrees. We’ll merge on them in about three minutes.”

Chapter Text

9

Dorset had to hand it to the pirates - they had painted their snubfighters well for Djurmo. The Vulture-Wings, as she called them, were a mix of black and dark gray that was hard to spot in the smoky sky. The combination gave them double the armament - lasers on both the V-Wing body and the Vulture droid wing panels, as well as torpedo tubes and flechette missile racks.

The Nu-class assault shuttles had also been modified to sport ARC-170 wings and engines.

They may be old designs and ‘Uglies,’ but they’re definitely not DIE-Wings. These are no joke.

“Polearm - weapons free,” Captain Mayn ordered; Dorset and Rushi dove into the fray with Third Flight at their backs. Red and green lasers crossed between the opposing snubfighters, along with missiles here and there. Two of the Vulture-Wings had burst into flames already; shield strength wasn’t a high priority for the Marauders since they weren’t used to ships fighting back.

Dorset picked a target of her own and gave chase once the formations had merged. The fighter had twin engines stacked vertically that were easier to track - until it ran for cover in the smoking cloud of one of the semi-active volcanoes. Kriff it, I’m burning up in here already. I can take that.

She banked through the black smoke and twisted up in pursuit, following the blue ion trails, then got a targeting lock and squeezed the trigger. Its shields collapsed, and the Vulture-Wing fell in flames until it hit the side of the mountain. Dorset corkscrewed her A-Wing back up through the cloud and rose to an overwatch position, looking for targets of opportunity.

Instead, they found her.

Alarms started going off - someone had a missile lock. Several of them. Sithspawn!

Dorset keyed her comm, juking left and right as she did. “Seven to group, backfire. I got a pair of unknowns at six o’clock high and closing fast. Going totally defensive out here.”

A concussion missile streaked past, missing by 100 meters, and Dorset bracketed it with laser fire before it could reacquire her fighter and swing around. She dropped all her flares after that, drawing off the other missiles that followed.

“Nine to Seven - the rest of Third Flight will be on your position in 25 seconds.”

Thanks, Tetengo - funny how that frees you up to go flying with my wingmate.

Dorset pushed the throttle to the maximum rate recommended for the atmospheric conditions at hand and smiled when she heard the low boom that resulted, making her A-Wing’s nose dip. Varyl, Radie and Ro’aven would no doubt be approaching her at a similar speed.

Fifteen seconds, then they’ll take out these gunboats no problem. They may be too focused on me to even see Third Flight coming.

“Dors! Right flank, right flank!”

She reacted to Radie’s warning without thinking, yanking her stick around to face this new enemy head on.

“Sithspawn,” Dorset muttered once she saw it on her scope, five klicks and closing fast. “Those Intel mudscuffers didn’t think to tell us the pirates have a kriffing Firespray?”

The patrol ship had started firing seconds later, and she had to dance in every direction to avoid most - but not all - of the shots. The ones that did hit brought her shields down to 30 percent.

Standard armament for the Firespray-35 model is three rotating cannons at the bottom and two concussion missiles tubes at the center. No telling yet what else has been added on, of course. 

Finally she merged with it and swung around, peppering the engine section as the other three A-Wings fell in with her. The slower gunboats would have to wait, but half of Rogue Squadron was inbound to support them. The B-Wings had tangled with another Firespray and six Z-95 Headhunters that didn’t make the Intelligence list either, in addition to the other two gunboats.

We’ll be damn lucky if we don’t lose any good pilots because of this kriff-up. General Solo will have somebody from NRI’s head for it, and he will take it all the way to Cracken if he has to. Unless the Wraiths were the ones who put together the intel report. I really hope not.

Under the original plan, they would have cleared a path for the Y-Wings and U-Wings to mop up the ground base by now. Instead, Dorset was fighting for her life against the Firespray with three other A-Wings, the rest of the squadron was trying to take out the Vulture-Wings and they hadn’t done anything about the turbolaser defenses yet. And she had no idea about the Venator. Kriff.

They had chased the Firespray over land now, trying to shoot it down before the gunboats or any Vulture-Wings could cut in behind them. The other three had deferred to Dorset, as former leader of Blue Squadron’s Third Flight, and now she was having to direct them and fight too.

“Ro, back off!” Dorset ordered quickly as the Twi’lek pilot arced in for a closer shot 100 meters aft of the Firespray.

Too late.

The patrol craft released a floating cylinder, about half a meter wide, that rolled through the air toward Ro’aven’s A-Wing. “Twelve, do you read-”

Suddenly Dorset couldn’t even hear herself. It wasn’t because her voice was drowned out; there wasn’t any sound that was audible for a moment. 

Then came the massive thrum, and a blue-tinted blast cone that pulverized the nearby mountain side. Ro’aven’s A-Wing was tumbling uncontrollably, one wing gone and the other rapidly being shaken to pieces; they were four klicks above the rocky ground.

“Twelve, eject!” Dorset ordered, forcing herself to ignore Radie’s frantic cries to her wingmate.

The A-Wing was spinning; it tumbled inverted briefly and then managed to right itself just long enough for the canopy to be blasted away as Ro’aven emerged safely.

But this was only a temporary reprieve: Ro’aven would be parachuting down to enemy territory, on a planet that even a Twi’lek couldn’t endure for more than 90 minutes. There was no telling when ground troops could land to recover her, and so it was likely she would be captured and Radie, at the very least, would die trying to protect her from the air.

Unless Dorset did something insanely stupid, too dangerous to ask of the other two. 

“Radie, Varyl - you two hang back and cover her descent. I’ll handle the Firespray.”

“How?” Vellis asked incredulously.

“Just do it, that’s an order.”

Dorset sighed, mopped her brow, and toggled the switches for her laser cannons. 

“Polearm Seven to Skyhook - I have a gunnery assignment, highest priority. Can you assist?”

“This is Skyhook - I’m afraid not, our batteries are too occupied. We called in the rapid response team, stand by for comm transfer. Okay, you’re on with Ession Strike.”

“Ession Strike here, but we’re in a screaming dive that would be a lot easier for you toydrivers,” the woman said. Her voice was calm, despite the alarms in the background, and had a definite Coruscanti accent. “What do you need, Polearm Seven?”

“We’ve got a Firespray patrol craft that’s causing a lot of problems - if I designate it, can your guns saturate that area immediately?”

“Affirmative - give me 10 seconds to level out and I’ll handle fire control myself. Traks, take the conn.”

Dorset dropped back 500 meters and hoped that was enough, marking the Firespray as it tried to bank around and attack Radie and Vellis. Their two A-Wings were flying tight circles around Ro, mowing down any pirate troops that tried to get close despite the mobile turret fire going up. The Twi’lek had her blaster out as well, and was picking off targets as she ran for better cover.

“Seven to Strike - I’ve got him marked. Bearing is two-one-nine at 400 meters altitude.”

“Roger that, Polearm. We have the target - incoming fire in seven seconds. Break off now.”

Dorset pulled back and nosed over, speeding away from the Firespray. 

And then the sky was on fire, in a way she hadn’t seen since Folor’s moon. Rocks exploded in a kilometer-long stretch of land; if Dorset hadn’t known better she would’ve thought a volcano was going off. Ession Strike wasn’t visible, but the line of red lasers all traced back to a gray cloud 10 klicks in the air and eight klicks back. There wasn’t anything left of the Firespray or gunboats.

“Radie, Varyl - you okay?” Dorset asked, relieved she hadn’t been caught in the bombardment.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Radie answered. “The pirates took off when they saw the skifter in our deck. Where did that come from, anyway?”

“Some Coruscanti naval captain who drives her ship like it’s a snubfighter, apparently. My guess is that was a Carrack or an over-armed Gozanti assault frigate, based on the level of firepower.”

The Y-Wings had bombed out the ground turbolasers, clearing a path for the U-Wings to deploy ground troops and provide additional support. Dorset swung her A-Wing back around and swore she saw a few U-Wing co-pilots leaning out of the cockpit to fire their own A280s too.

It was over, and Dorset needed a long shower. Plus a total overhaul of her fighter’s fan system.

Undoubtedly her friends would be lined up along the way to the refreshers, trying to find ways to slow her down. Dorset sighed, but smiled in bemusement as she glanced down at the sweat stains dotting her teal undershirt. She would probably have to strip down to it upon landing, lest they frog-march her around Mon Remonda while she was stuck in her drenched flight suit.

I love the squadron, but the things I put up with for the sake of good morale … Maybe I can bribe Lieutenant Janson into teaching me some payback methods.  

She landed her A-Wing last, feeling slightly dizzy on the approach. Her fingers were stiff and shaky, and Dorset had stopped sweating 14 minutes ago. But there was no way she’d let the Djurmo battle end with a tow back into the hangar.

Dorset opened her canopy and rose halfway, making good on her earlier plan by peeling out of the flight suit into the teal sleeveless top and matching loose shorts. She hopped down off the side, then felt her lower legs start to buckle and grabbed the wing panel to stay upright.

Rushi and Radie were at Dorset’s side in a flash, steadying her and offering her a cold bottle. “Thanks - I’m okay,” she said, letting the water trickle between chapped lips until she wasn’t light-headed any more.

Carmiya Rendon and Elana Donnall got to her next, having commandeered gear from one of the damage control teams. The brunette Anoat native was in the lead, a protective helmet over her planet’s distinctive hairstyle.

“We heard your fighter overheated - time to cool down,” Elana said as she and Carmiya raised the extinguishing tube. Dorset laughed, thinking about how A-Wings that had spent hours in atmospheric flight needed their engines sprayed down afterward, and let them have their fun.

The spray was a nice, chilly mist - and much needed - so she leaned into it with a smile.

Carmiya, the youngest Polearm at 17 and eight standard months, was the first one to break into a run and slide through the water that had puddled all around their section. Elana followed soon after, and then Nuro - the other Twi’lek in the squadron - dove past her and slid 10 meters.

All sense of discipline had been spaced, so Tetengo and Lasko began a competition on which of the flight leaders was better at sliding. Dorset walked back out, not yet up for a slide herself, and offered Captain Mayn a “What can you do?” expression in response to her questioning look.

There was a time General Crespin would’ve put us all on report and mandatory mopping duty, but we just survived a fight at uneven odds because of poor intelligence. Let them have their fun, they earned it. Plus it keeps them from being too angry at whoever in NRI kriffed that up.

“Ro, over here!” Radie Felian was yelling as she climbed up to one knee and waved; the Twi’lek squadmate had returned aboard a U-Wing and raised one of the pirate’s blaster rifles in the air.

Dorset grinned as she located the unused extinguishing tube and motioned Elana over; she wasn’t the only one who needed cooling off. They waited until Ro’aven and Radie had a few moments to embrace, then drenched the both of them. They’ll get me back for that, but I can worry about it later. Dorset certainly didn’t care when Ro’aven hauled her into a back-popping hug as thanks for taking out the Firespray; her clothes were already just as soaked through.

Elana ran off and kissed Cran Temarch; Dorset hadn’t realized they were a couple - assuming this wasn’t some new thing - but then they were both in First Flight together. Rushi and Tetengo disappeared not long after that, and Dorset resigned herself to the likelihood she would need to find different quarters for the night. At least we’re all alive - and happy for it.  

Dorset smiled again then laid down at an edge of the puddle, blissfully soaking it up. She only opened her eyes when Radie started lightly spraying her at close range.

Chapter Text

10

The next anti-piracy mission took them halfway across the galaxy, aboard Mon Karren this time. Their distance from Zsinj’s normal area of operations made secrecy less of an imperative.

“Our latest target is an orbital platform over Abraxas,” Captain Mayn told the assembled pilots. “A New Republic strike team led by General Calrissian previously drove a pirate band out, but Intelligence says Zsinj is aligned with a new group operating from there to attack our shipping. As bad as Djurmo was, the Abraxas system is even more unforgiving. Debris has accumulated in orbit, and the high-strength gravity well frequently sends it whipping around. Be careful with it.

“Enemy forces are projected to include unmodified Z-95 Headhunters and R-41 Starchasers, Uglies including X-Tie fighters and TIE-Wing bombers, and ATR-6 assault transports. They’ve also acquired a Nebulon-B frigate for use as a pocket carrier.”

“There’s no Rogues this time either. We will be supported by the X-Wing squadrons Corsair and High Flight, plus General Crespin’s Y-Wings and Hawktail Squadron’s CloakShape fighters from Battle Dog. The CR90 corvette Ession Strike will hang back in reserve as well.”

The Strike is only a corvette? It must be armed to the teeth then, Dorset thought to herself.

Three days later, they were launching from Mon Karren as the first wave of the attack. Abraxas, a lush emerald world, was part of a similarly green-tinted nebula that was captivating but dangerous. The space station in front of them had three hangars, each the size of a Quasar carrier, attached to a central section with a command dome on top and underside comm tower.

“That looks like an XQ3 Platform,” Varyl told the others. “They’re launching the first wave of fighters.” 

“They’re the R-41s,” Radie said once she’d gotten a closer view. “I pulled their schematics last night - if you can get behind them, aim for the panel just above the engines. It’s a weak spot, at least in the stock version.”

Dorset smiled. For a Corellian with a fair amount of their typically brash attitude, Radie certainly liked to spend time in the ship’s library. Maybe it reminds her of when she was a child.

The A-Wings dove toward the group of Starchasers and their Headhunter escorts, exchanging a round of fire that did little to either side’s shields. But now the Polearm pilots were braking hard and nosing over to engage the enemy from behind. Radie had put her recommendation into practice first, dropping in on a pair of R-41s and stitching fire above their engines. 

One exploded outright, while the other spun away out of control - until it hit the side of a meteor.

“Nice work, Eleven. Everyone, see if you can follow suit. But watch out - the Headhunters are coming back around.”

Dorset craned her head and saw them - like the Starchasers, the pirate Z-95s were dark gray with striping in a dirty yellow color. At least they were easier to spot in the green nebula.

These fighters, despite their age, could out-turn the X-Wings of Corsair and High Flight - but nothing could match an A-Wing’s radius. Dorset easily snap-rolled over to engage the Z-95s from their three o’clock position, and her lasers struck home between one’s body and S-foil.

It broke apart, and the other four veered out of the way of any additional fire. They were headed back to the XQ3 Platform, where the rest of pirate snubfighters were setting up a skirmish line to hold off the New Republic forces or die trying. Eight R-41 Starchasers remained, as did 17 Z-95 Headhunters. Two full squadrons of Uglies had also launched from the pirates’ pocket carrier.

The Nebulon-B was retreating deeper into the nebula, but Ession Strike had given chase and was now engaged in a full brawl with the frigate - even though it was twice the corvette’s size.

With a standard CR90 that would have been a fight for survival, but the Strike was on the attack and even using its tractor beam. Dorset was once again impressed by the captain’s enthusiasm.

“Twenty credits says the Wraiths stole that ship from the ISB,” Radie said approvingly. “No one over-arms their ships like those mudscuffers. Even if they have good taste, buying from CEC.”

They were waiting for the rest of the fighters to join them, so the next half minute was filled by a standoff with the pirates. Dorset performed a hasty check of her systems - shields, weapons and engines - then checked her chrono again. Ten seconds away. The CloakShape fighter-bombers, even retrofitted, would be the most vulnerable and the pirates’ primary target. Then the Y-Wings, and finally the X-Wings and A-Wings as the deadliest prey. It was their job to protect the others.

At least Mon Karren was coming around to join in the assault on the station itself; that would force them to divert shield power and shorten the time they needed. The New Republic was going to win eventually, not that the pirates would surrender before the end.

Dorset knew her duty and would perform it, even if she didn’t revel in that. They represented the galactic authority now, and that meant bringing security to the hyperspace routes. Pirates were a threat to that, especially those in service to the warlord who held dozens of sectors in his grip. And a year ago, groups like this would have been preying on much-needed bacta convoys.

She remembered a video shown during training on Coruscant, in which Commander Antilles talked about the responsibilities of participating in snubfighter combat.

“Luke would probably caution you on the perils of the dark side. For me, it’s simpler - if success is measured in enemy lives taken, it can become easy to calculate your own acceptable losses as well. You should focus on the people you can protect: squadmates, crew members on our support ships, residents of the planets we’ll defend and others you may never see which still gain independence as a result of our victory. 

“Sure, you’ll be called upon to kill the enemy - but it should never become an absolute objective. That thinking is what drives otherwise good pilots to abandon their wingmate and attack enemy bases alone, for instance. I can’t tolerate anyone who does that, and your squadron leaders won’t either.” Commander Antilles had looked to someone off-camera with regret.

Eight minutes later, it was all over. The pirate snubfighters fought well but were inferior in skill and equipment. The A-Wings, in particular, flew rings around them all and made short work of the Ugly variants. The R-41s and Z-95s put up a better fight, with three Headhunters swarming Radie’s fighter as she picked off the last Starchaser, but the rest of her flight took care of them.

Ession Strike had severed the Nebulon-B frigate’s central spar, while Mon Karren battered the station’s shields down and then - when it refused to cease firing - annihilated the command tower. The XQ3 lost structural integrity after that, its hangars drifting apart to be pulled into the sweeping field of debris in planetary orbit. Polearm Squadron flew back to land, relieved there had been no loss of pilots or fighters this time.

Chapter Text

11

Missions were sparse following that, which meant a major operation had to be in the works. Sure enough, Captain Mayn had them start running sim drills for combat around a generic shipyard two weeks later. Which particular one was classified for the moment, but it appeared they were being prepared for a rapid response role like the one Ession Strike had performed.

One thing was certain from the simulations - they would go head-to-head with Iron Fist. 

Are we defending Fondor? That’s all the way across the Core. Bilbringi’s closer, though deep in Imperial space. It could be a hit and fade on the yards at Yaga Minor, but not even General Solo would take those odds. And neither of those two have anything to do with Zsinj, unless he has a backchannel alliance with the Remnant. They do appear to have loaned him the 181st…  

Dorset was still troubled by the last point. She wouldn’t run from a fight against the best pilots in Imperial ranks - or the warlord’s - but that didn’t mean she would enjoy it either. Another day of practice, and then Mon Remonda jumped to the edge of a desolate system that Carmiya said was called Halmad. The Wraiths must have been there, because a series of X-Wings flew in.

And then they waited for orders.

Whatever was to come, they would be reinforcing the other Wraiths - the only ones on Mon Remonda were Lieutenants Janson and Donos, Runt Ekwesh, Dia Passik, and Lara Notsil. 

Once the Wraiths had been collected, they returned to deep space to reunite with the other ships in the fleet that would be deployed today: a frigate, starfighter carrier and a Marauder-class corvette. That won’t be much of a match for Iron Fist. The fleet’s all divided up, but why?

“This is going to be a mess and a half,” Dorset muttered as she and other Polearm pilots ate quickly.

“At least we’re flying with General Crespin again,” Lasko said as he pointed toward the carrier.

Someone at Starfighter Command had sentenced Crespin to a fate worse than death, Dorset had thought. Getting a group of Y-Wing nuggets into shape? The general deserved better than being stuck driving a slugboat wishbone, but maybe he lost a bet with General Salm.

“All pilots, prepare to launch in five minutes.” That was the automated alert system again. They ran to their A-Wings and began pre-flight checks, then received an update from Captain Mayn.

“The warlord just stole another Super Star Destroyer from Kuat,” she told them. “Our mission is to destroy it and Iron Fist; they’re directly inbound. The Wraiths have pre-placed assets on both ships, so keep a close eye on your IFF data. We’ll be with the Rogues and Nova Squadron too.”

They rocketed out in sequence and formed up, each unquestionably nervous. One Super Star Destroyer would be a grave challenge. Two would be damned impossible with the current fleet.

Iron Fist was in the lead, the second - identified as Razor’s Kiss - trailing behind. Both had already raised their shields, and Mon Remonda didn’t have the firepower to batter either one down.

But it didn’t need to - the Wraiths had done something to prepare for that. 

The shields of Razor’s Kiss suddenly collapsed, a pinprick of light visible where the generator dome had been, and now Iron Fist was screening it and launching fighters.

“All squadrons, this is Wraith Leader: Prepare for strafing run on the second destroyer. Ignore Iron Fist for now,” Commander Antilles ordered. “X-Wings, B-Wings: commence with proton torpedoes. Save some for the engines.”

Ignoring Iron Fist would be a lot easier if they weren’t firing on us with all their bow batteries, Dorset thought as they dove in. Turbolasers and ion cannon fire streaked up all around them, and she’d started sweating again.

“Lasko’s hit!” Nuro screamed suddenly.

Dorset glanced out ahead to where Five and Six were just ahead of her and saw a thousand scraps of metal spreading out; the A-Wing had taken a direct shot and disintegrated. Oh kriff.

She and Lasko had competed for best pilot status on Folor Base; he’d won and went on to become the top ace for Blue and then Polearm squadrons. Now he was gone, ripped apart because some mudscuffer in Iron Fist’s gunnery got lucky with their aiming.

“Dorset - I need you in command of Second Flight now,” Captain Mayn ordered.

“Wilco, Leader. Nuro, fall in with Rushi and I as a three-fighter formation.”

They zoomed past Iron Fist, only to dive into the guns of another Super Star Destroyer. But this time they could hit back. The X-Wings and B-Wings got off the first salvo of torpedoes, and then an unknown contact was firing into the bridge of Razor’s Kiss.

How the kriff are they doing this? Not that I’m complaining.

The pilot of the TIE Interceptor requested a friendly status on their IFF and received it along with a hearty cheer for bringing down the shields. The A-Wings, out in front, flew past what was left of the bridge and then poured laser fire and concussion missiles into the stern and engines.

Iron Fist’s starfighters were out in force now and ready for revenge; this was Polearm’s time to shine. Dorset just wished they still had Lasko with them, given his dogfighting skill on par with her own. Whatever is about to happen, at least we’ve taken Razor’s Kiss off the board.

“Break by pairs,” Commander Antilles was ordering. “Take shots at Iron Fist when you can, but your main objective is to protect yourselves and hold the starfighters. Polearm, you’re our spearhead. Break up their formation, deny them their united inertia before they get to us.”

Dorset almost felt like laughing. Of course we’re the spearhead, why do you think we’re called Polearm? This is what we do. The Rogues would be behind them, while the Wraiths protected Nova Squadron’s B-Wings.

“Rushi, Nuro - stay close as long as you can. If we get split up, try to regroup as a wingpair.” 

I can take care of myself, probably.

The remaining 11 A-Wings rocketed away from the rest of the group, punching headlong into the mass of TIEs to clear out as many as they could. Dorset squeezed the trigger as often as she could, watching in grim satisfaction as six TIEs died under her guns within 15 seconds. 

That’s for Lasko, you kriffers. 

Two tried to get behind her and she dodged them easily, setting Rushi up for a shot instead. 

Then the Rogues arrived behind them, and the TIEs from Iron Fist were really kriffed now.

“Polearm, heads up - the 181st is inbound,” Captain Mayn warned 15 seconds later.

Sithspawn! They’ve got their own reinforcements.

“Rushi, Nuro - fall back in behind me now,” Dorset ordered the rest of the flight.

The damned Squints with the Stripes zoomed past - but at least most were after the Rogues. They’ve got years of skill on us, they can handle their Imperial counterparts much better.

She glanced back to confirm the other two pilots in the flight - once again her responsibility - were in formation and looked for new targets as Mon Remonda and Iron Fist began to fire at each other.

“Leader to Seven,” Captain Mayn said over the comm. “The General needs an escort for a flight of Y-Wings - can you spare someone?”

Dorset took a second to consider it. Rushi and Nuro were equally skilled, from what she’d seen, and she had far more experience flying with the Rodian.

“Seven to Six, can you fall back and help screen a bomber flight?”

“Roger that,” Nuro replied; he sounded only slightly disappointed. His fighter waggled its wings and veered off, back toward the other ships trailing Mon Remonda.

“Dors - we got a pair of squints at eight o’clock low,” Rushi told her about 15 seconds later. “Looks like they’re circling to be in a defensive formation for Iron Fist, flying at two-three-five.”

“They 181st?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then they’re ours. Stay on my wing.”

The two A-Wings rocketed out in pursuit, managing to slip behind their TIE counterparts as they headed back in toward the main group of X-Wings.

One of them should break off and try to get behind us, Dorset thought. She’d send Rushi out after the straggler once they broke, rather than leave her wingmate exposed.

But instead the TIEs stayed in tight formation, the one in lead rising into a higher position as both tried to shake the A-Wings in unison. 

The kriff? They’re smarter than that, but a kill is a kill.

Both TIEs were balls of flame within seven seconds.

Maybe that was some trick move that they didn’t have time to finish. It had to be.

She glanced back toward Iron Fist, and the Mon Calamari cruiser in its path. The two were exchanging body blows, lasers streaming back and forth in a barrage no pilot wanted to fly through.

An explosion rippled through Mon Remonda’s port engine, and the cruiser hung motionless in space. But then a green streak from somewhere blew the Super Star Destroyer’s shield dome apart.

The battle may have been lost and won in those three seconds.

“Rushi, the bombers are going to hit Fist with everything they’ve got. Let’s give them a screen.”

“Roger that.”

The two reunited with Nuro, and Dorset smirked as she saw the Y-Wing behind her carried the commander’s markings. 

“Polearm Seven to Slugboat Lea- strike that, Screaming Wookie Leader, we’ll walk you in. And I’m afraid I do mean walk.”

“I’ll disregard that last,” General Crespin told her with just a trace of amusement.

She eased her throttle up to 40 percent - meeting the wishbones’ maximum thrust - and led the way, watching in case any TIE Interceptors broke out of their roiling dogfight with X-Wings three klicks to the right.

Once they got to within five klicks they broke away, letting the Y-Wings and B-Wings do what they did best: hurt capital ships. Lasers and torpedoes ripped off sections of hull and entire turret batteries, even as Iron Fist pushed its own speed to the highest possible. 

Its TIEs were in full retreat, and Dorset joined the rest of Polearm Squadron to send them off with a volley of indiscriminate fire that killed two dozen or more. Not sporting at all, but I don’t care. It’s war, and they’d mow civilians down without a second thought.

Nova Squadron’s pilots took their own shots at Iron Fist’s engines, but it wasn’t enough. The massive ship jumped away into hyperspace, leaving the wreck of its peer behind.

Chapter Text

12

The attitude was bittersweet as Polearm Squadron gathered in a briefing room after landing. They’d managed to avoid any losses since the Folor evacuation, but that luck had run out. 

Lasko Javal had been the best of them, or near enough. And it wasn’t even a dogfight, just a lucky shot by some unseen gunner. Still, his death helped keep Zsinj from having two SSDs.

With that, he could’ve held almost any New Republic force that could be fielded at bay. They would have had no choice but to pull back and fall into a de facto truce, letting him control a hundred systems or more. 

Dorset had enlisted to help liberate planets; this was a stark reminder she might die for that reason as well. Any of them could. But hopefully they’d take Iron Fist down with them.

She glanced around the room, looking to see how the others were taking the loss. She was acting leader for Second Flight, and the responsibilities that brought didn’t end on landing.

Dorset was checking on Cran Temarch, Nuro Tualin and Varyl Vellis in particular. All the pilots got along well enough, but there were still smaller groups that were especially close. Those three and Lasko had been one set.

Tetengo, Rushi and Dorset herself were another group; then there was Cran, Elana Donnall and Carmiya Rendon. Ro’aven and Radie Felian were closest with each other, though Ro’aven was sitting with Nuro and the others now. She’d be able to break through the walls against grief that Twi’lek warrior culture carried in ways none of the humans could.

Dorset offered a nod to Radie, and the red-haired Corellian woman joined her by the bar. 

“How’d you two do on kills out there?” Dorset asked. It was easier to start the conversation with that, and let her bring their loss up when she was ready. Radie had known Lasko even longer than Dorset, given her late arrival at Folor.

“Eight for me, Ro got 13. Hey, someone had to spend time watching her six.”

Dorset smiled at that - the Twi’lek pilot wasn’t reckless in general, but she didn’t hold back from charging the enemy no matter the numbers or firepower. They’d already seen the results it could bring at Djurmo, and were lucky Starfighter Command was able to send a replacement A-Wing.

“I got 14,” Dorset said by way of response, though she kept any hint of boasting from her voice. “Pretty sure I popped three of the 181st, they must have a lot of replacements since Fel went over to Zsinj’s side. You have any idea what would cause him to do that?”

Radie shrugged, uncorking a bottle from behind the bar and pouring them both glasses. “If he makes the next meeting of the Corellian pilots’ association I’ll ask before I shoot him,” she joked. “Honestly, I have no idea. If he wanted to get power for himself, he could’ve taken it right after Endor. Instead he stayed with Isard, came over to our side for a while and then disappeared. I guess New Republic service disenchanted him and Zsinj was able to provide whatever he was looking for. That’s a question for Command’s shrinks, if they ever get done with the Wraiths.”

The pair shared a laugh; they’d come to respect the X-Wing squadron but still saw them as an idiosyncratic bunch. Training opposite them at Folor certainly left that impression.

“You going to see your parents back on Coruscant?” Radie asked, sipping slowly at her glass of Whyren’s standard.

“Probably not. We’ve only got a week’s leave while they fix up Mon Remonda, and they’re not high on my list of people to see while I’m there. I can give you and Ro a tour of the best spots for pilots there, if you want - Tetengo and Rushi might tag along too.”

The Corellian smiled; Dorset had gone through initial training on her homeworld but the others had been stuck at Folor Base throughout. This would be their first leave on the capital planet.

“We should definitely check out the Galactic Museum, now that it’s had all Imperial propaganda removed and more accurate displays are set up,” Dorset added. That work had been underway during her training, so she hadn’t gotten to see it all before shipping out either.

“I bet they’ll have a whole wing on the local heroes of Corellia,” Radie said, her smile growing. “Generals Solo and Madine, Commander Antilles, maybe even Senator Bel Iblis as part of the early days of the Rebellion.”

“Yeah, probably as the ‘Never Tell Me the Odds’ Wing. You can be sure Fey’lya threatened to hold back funding unless the Bothan Wing was made as big or larger than every other one.”

They got a hearty chuckle out of that, though Radie pointed out how it was better to have petty squabbles rather than a single executive leader with unchecked power. “I’m sure their intentions would be good, but the last thing we need is another emperor,” she said. “Not that I’m worried.”

The two were silent for a moment, neither willing to criticize the Provisional Council any further.

“First thing I want to do when we disembark is visit the Sanctuary,” Radie said, her voice soft.

Dorset felt guilty that she hadn’t thought of that. Here I am talking about home, and she can’t go back until the New Republic drives the diktat out. They can’t even bury their dead there.

She didn’t ask whether Radie had anyone specific in mind, but the question still hung in the air as they poured new glasses. The Corellian took a deeper sip and glanced around the room.

“My mother,” Radie said. “It was six years ago, when I was 15. My parents were smugglers and it had attracted some Imperial attention. Mom and I went to my uncle’s forestry field out in the mountains until their focus died down. But a platoon of stormtroopers raided the place with a group of bribed CorSec agents and their Imp liaison. I got away and they… didn’t. Anti-Empire partisans found me and moved me along from cell to cell until I was back in Coronet and could sneak off-world, almost a year later. I got revenge first, though - one team took me along when we killed the liaison officer who ordered the attack and his informant. Mainly I just helped as a runner. Bounced around for a bit after leaving Corellia and, well, now I’m here.”

She reached into the inner pocket of her fur-lined crimson vest and withdrew an HL-27 blaster pistol with a blackened wood grip, setting it on the bartop carefully. 

“I took this from the liaison officer’s desk and carved my own handle - the wood was saved off the trees after the stormtroopers burned them and my uncle’s house,” Radie explained.

Dorset nodded, picturing how the snub blaster would look in her hand then and understanding why the woman’s brown eyes could turn cold in an instant. It stood out that Radie hadn’t said anything about her father, but Dorset wasn’t going to push her to share more details.

Instead, she wrapped an arm around the Corellian and rubbed her shoulder gently. 

“Everything alright here?” Ro’aven asked, dropping into the seat next to them.

“Yeah,” Radie answered with a tired smile as she straightened up and tucked the blaster away. “Just talking about seeing the Corellian Sanctuary when we get to Coruscant.”

Ro nodded gravely, her expression showing that she’d heard the story some time ago too.

“You know liberating Corellia has to be high on the Council’s list of priorities, once we’re through with Zsinj,” the Twi’lek told them both. “It’s probably why Leia Organa went off on her diplomatic mission - to get reinforcements for the invasion.”

The other two laughed at that; very few knew where Organa had gone, but her departure was the worst-kept secret in the fleet. General Solo would be in the loop, of course, and who’d be better than him to command the Corellia operation? The Zsinj hunt is probably just a test run.

“Once it’s done, I’m taking the squadron on a tour of Coronet City,” Radie said as she finished her drink. “No offense to Coruscant and its orbital mirrors, but you haven’t really lived until you lay back on a dune at the Gold Beaches and watch the sunrise over the water. Sneaking off to Treasure Ship Row without any commanders around for the day would be a real treat, too - it’s what Booster Terrik based his Star Destroyer concept off of.”

“Now that’s an area where Coruscant can compete,” Dorset retorted with a grin. “After the Imps were forced out, the New Republic set up the Grand Bazaar in place of some Moff’s palisades. The Western Sea’s a pretty nice area to go swimming, too, even if it doesn’t have your views.”

She got the chance to show them a day later, leading the group of Ro’aven, Radie, Carmiya, Tetengo and Rushi through the Galactic Museum. The story of the Jedi was presented largely as it had been under Palpatine’s rule, at least until the onset of the Clone Wars. Now it had a truer accounting of the role they played as peacekeepers turned generals of the Clone Army that would betray them. 

“The line of Jedi went dark - though some kept the embers alive,” Carmiya read from the holo display of an old man, his hood hiding gray hair and a beard, and a wrinkled green creature that stood even shorter than a Sullustan. At the press of a button, an image of Luke Skywalker appeared between them. 

Dorset could only imagine how Falynn would be rolling her eyes over it, if she were there. The next hall, “Rebellion to Restoration,” began with details on the first Alliance leaders - Bail and Leia Organa, Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and a tall brown-haired man that Radie said was the Corellian representative, Senator Bel Iblis. 

The image was a grim reminder of the recent attempt on Ackbar’s life, even if it had failed.

There were also smaller groups represented in the early Rebels; Dorset knew that members of an extremist cell from Onderon had kidnapped a young Face Loran over his propaganda films and was cut off from the Alliance at Mon Mothma’s order for that and other actions.

The six Polearms gathered around a holoreel of the critical Alliance victory at Scarif, complete with a display of the ground team who gave their lives to secure the Death Star plans. A panel nearby added that while Leia Organa’s Tantive IV carried the actual data, another CR90 called Emancipator acted as a decoy to lure Imperial ships and was hunted down at Toprawa.

The next display told the familiar story of Tantive IV’s capture, the destruction of Alderaan, and how the Rebels’ last stand at Yavin IV eliminated the Death Star - at great cost for their pilots.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” Rushi said after they’d stood there quietly for a minute. “Sure, we’ve been through a lot - but we had good fleet support and other squadrons.”

“I know,” Ro’aven replied, uncharacteristically stoic. The whole squadron had gone through sims of both Death Star runs but imagining it for real, with their lives on the line, was very different.

They moved past the dark days of Hoth quickly, with Radie lightening the mood by pointing out that Ro would have an especially rough time in the freezing cold there. Then came the Battle of Endor, with significant attention paid to the role of Bothan spies in getting the information used.

Fey’lya’s funding manipulations at work, undoubtedly. 

The post-Endor period took them into the largest room yet, a replica Z-95 Headhunter at its center. The current members of Rogue Squadron were shown via holo as well, and a voice recording discussed their role in infiltrating Coruscant and paving the way for its capture.

Dorset had seen this display section as soon as it opened; a memorial to Corran Horn had since been removed and the holo of Rogue Squadron altered to excise a woman with short dark hair. Scuttlebutt around Coruscant at the time was she’d turned out to be an Imp traitor in the ranks.

The other members of Polearm were curious to see her reaction - as someone who had lived through the liberation of Coruscant on the ground - and Dorset gave it high marks. 

That was the end of the tour; a sign let visitors know that the Triumph at Thyferra exhibit would open soon. They couldn’t leave the museum without stopping in the gift shop, though. Carmiya, bubblier than ever, ran over to a stand-in holo display of a Jedi knight just outside and had Ro take an image of her even though it was primarily meant for children.

Dorset smiled at that, Tetengo and Rushi doing the same as they walked up alongside her. She glanced around and saw Radie at the Corellian-themed aisles, looking wistfully at a holo of the star clusters visible in Coronet City’s night sky. That’s what they have set up in the Sanctuary.

“You okay?” Dorset asked once she’d caught up to her; Radie nodded without much of a smile.

“I will be. Seeing it in person - well, I didn’t realize how big it would be, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dorset answered. She, Ro and others had offered to go with Radie to the Sanctuary, but the Corellian had politely declined them all. That was something for her to do alone.

“I was wondering,” Radie went on, glancing down and then back up as she lifted the holo. “You seem to be the expert - do you know where I could get a tattoo like this?”

Dorset grinned, opening her loose flightsuit enough to show Radie her own star cluster tattoo as seen in the sky from Metellos. “Trust me, I know just the spot for that. C’mon.”

Chapter Text

13

The two caught back up with the rest of the Polearms on their way back from what had been the Jedi Temple; the building was still undergoing reconstruction. Carmiya, naturally, had convinced the others to go there with her.

Due to the incidents the Wraiths had encountered on Coruscant, the squadron was ordered to keep a low profile and so none wore their uniforms outright. They didn’t have visible blasters either, but it was standard precaution for them to have some weapon once off barracks.

Carmiya wore a purple overcoat and gray trousers, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. Rushi and Tetengo were close behind her, the Rodian wearing a beige shirt and pants that contrasted her mottled red and green skin while the Churban native played up his farming heritage with tan coveralls and a brown jacket.

They’d gotten a kick out of seeing that once he left his room in their temporary quarters on base; Cran Temarch had even given it his Agamarian stamp of approval before heading off with Elana on their own.

At the rear was Ro’aven; the Twi’lek had changed into newly purchased clothes and now wore a resplendent gold tunic that would be the envy of any starport master when she returned home.

Radie offered another quick thanks to Dorset and ran over to show Ro’aven the new tattoo, her crimson vest flapping slightly as she did. The Corellian wore matching pants and a cream color short-sleeved blouse that left the removable red bands on her upper arm uncovered. They were the mountain partisans’ version of military bloodstripes, she had explained at the tattoo shop. Radie didn't usually wear them, but had done so for her visit to the Sanctuary.

Dorset wore a teal flightsuit herself, but disguised it as a smuggler’s outfit by adding a well-worn black vest and fingerless gloves. If I hadn’t joined the New Republic, I’d probably look like this.

“So, tour guide, what’s next?” Tetengo asked. 

Dorset grinned. “Everyone hungry? I know a few places that aren’t on the standard route.”

The group of six piled into a sky shuttle for the trip, drawing a curious glance from the operator given their disparate attire. 

“Collective Commerce District - fourth stop,” Dorset told him as she offered the required credits.

“CoCo Town?” Carmiya asked, raising an eyebrow as they took their seats.

The Coruscant native wasn’t surprised; that district didn’t have the greatest reputation. But she knew it like the back of her hand, and that included how it had been under the Empire when law enforcement was a lower priority for such outlying regions of Imperial Center. We’ll be fine there.

They filed into their destination 23 minutes later. The restaurant, if you called it that, was dimly lit with inactive glowrods at the side of each open table and booth. 

It was about a third full, with most of the patrons either dock workers that had just finished their shift or spacers that hadn’t seen much luck lately. 

Unsurprisingly, the latter group was a noisy bunch as they talked about new cargo opportunities.

Radie glanced around, then dropped down to re-tie her boot and came up with a holdout blaster tucked discreetly in her palm before sliding it into the back of her waistband. 

Dorset rolled her eyes, wondering why Radie hadn’t kept the blaster close at hand to begin with - until she realized it was probably a backup for another one hidden in her vest.

The burly guard by the host stand looked at them questioningly until he recognized Dorset, then smiled. She tossed him a 20 credit chip and that got them a semi-circle table away from the others. 

“It doesn’t get much high-class traffic because of the location, but this has some of the best food I’ve had on Coruscant. And the prices aren’t too high,” Dorset told them as they all sat down.

She pressed a button and the digital menus appeared over their table, flickering slightly.

Dorset ordered a large bowl of noodles and dumplings, and most of the Polearms did the same. Ro’aven opted for a nerf steak, while Rushi chose a meat and vegetable broth with a wide straw.

“Back on the base on Fol- when we first met, didn’t you say you had an old starfighter around here from when you were young?” Rushi asked her roommate as they were all finishing their dinner.

Dorset smiled and nodded. “It’s two klicks away, plus a few minutes of an elevator ride.”

They downed what remained of their fizzy drinks, dropped enough credits on the table to provide a generous tip, and headed for Dorset’s old hangar. She cautioned them along the way, saying there were some in the more prosperous area who still held to old beliefs about humans and aliens intermingling. Ro’aven snorted at that, turning to Rushi and Tetengo.

“Anyone causes trouble, I’ll take care of it.” The Twi’lek lifted her arms, causing the tunic sleeves to slide down and reveal a sheathed vibroblade on her right forearm and a knuckle guard strapped on the left.

“I’m sure you would - but I’d rather not end the night with the MPs,” Carmiya said.

They made it to the hangar building without incident, though, and once Dorset had produced her old ID card they were on their way up to the 26th level. The bay was massive, easily a klick long with rows of landing zones. Freighters made up over half its occupants, while the rest included pleasure yachts, airspeeders, the occasional snubfighter and even a decades-old patrol ship with massive engines sticking out on either side. They walked through its shadow, and Dorset swore she saw a silvery figure - a droid? - watching them from the ship’s two-seater cockpit.

Her fighter sat up against the far wall, a worn cover blocking it from view. Dorset removed it to show the blue-colored Delta-6 Sprite. The others had crowded around, and she let them check out the engines and even climb down in the cockpit. 

Radie had wandered off, one hand reaching up toward a YT-2000 until she was nearly touching it - even though she knew she shouldn’t. The Corellian turned at the sound of Dorset’s footsteps and Dorset saw her right eye glimmering before Radie quickly blinked it away and coughed.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… my parents had a YT-2000. I spent a lot of time in it growing up when we’d go offworld. They gave me quarters on the starboard side with a retractable panel that let me look up through the glass at the stars; I’d just lay there for an hour sometimes watching them go by. When I was really young I liked to wait in the engine room until they’d carry me out half asleep.”

Dorset glanced down and saw Radie’s fingers were damp from earlier tears.

“Do you want to talk about them more?” Visiting the Sanctuary surely brought this back up; her mom would only be represented there by name since they couldn’t cremate her on Coruscant.

Radie smiled, even if it didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s kind of you, Dors. Okay: our YT-2000 was the Wildcat II; the first one was an HWK-290 before I was born. It was dirty gray with crimson stripes. We had a good place in Coronet City, but there was a lot of traveling around on ship too. Things got a bit too dangerous a year after the Death Star’s destruction, though, and so they thought it would be safer for mom and I to stay in the mountains. It just didn’t turn out that way.”

She reached into one of the inner pockets in her vest and took out a small holoprojector, turning it on to show an image of the YT-2000 first and then one of her standing on the ship’s table at six years old. 

Radie was nearly level with her parents, given the elevated platform, with an impish smile and a face full of freckles. Both of them had similar red-orange hair and wore plain gray flightsuits.

Radie looked at the holo longingly, then switched it off and checked her chrono. 

“Thanks for listening, but could you keep that story to yourself? I don’t want the whole squadron to pity me now. We should get back for sim practice on base, but it’s good you gave the others a chance to explore.”

Even on leave, Captain Mayn wanted them to stay focused on attacking a Super Star Destroyer. They ran through the drill three times before being dismissed, though two of the Wraiths - Face Loran and the blonde new one, Lara - asked if they could try a quick test mission with a wingpair.

Most of the Polearms had plans in mind for what remained of the evening, but Radie and Dorset were free for another sim run. They waved goodbye to Ro’aven and Nuro Tualin, both headed to the Little Ryloth section of Coruscant, and then waited to see what the Wraiths were planning.

The simulation began with them flying TIE Interceptors rather than A-Wings, while the sensors showed one Wraith in an X-Wing and the other in a TIE Interceptor as well. The X-Wing was in the lead, and Dorset waited for them to break apart and engage both squints at once.

“Ten credits says their squint is going to keep using the X-Wing for cover,” Radie told her.

“Sure - ideas on how to counter if they do?”

“We wait until we’re in range, then feint like we’re going high and take a snap shot as soon as the X-Wing is out of the way.”

The Wraiths approached in a tight lead-and-follow formation. The Polearms rose above their plane of flight, waited for the X-Wing to match them - and then Radie slid back down to fire a burst at the Wraith’s TIE Interceptor. The green lasers struck home, lancing through its pylons and tearing the wing arrays off. A follow-up shot detonated the eyeball at their center.

“Sithspit,” Lara said from the surviving X-Wing. “All right - end the exercise.”

Radie hopped down from her simulator pod with a crooked smile, Dorset trailing her so they could go over the simulation with the two Wraiths. 

“That was a bust,” Face said with visible disappointment.

“It wasn’t too bad - I’d just heard talk of something similar so that was easy to counter,” Radie told him mischievously. “You should see what Commander Antilles thinks of the strategy. Oh, and Dorset? Pay up.”

Chapter Text

14

The death of Lasko Javal at Kuat had left the position of Polearm Five vacant, so Captain Mayn transferred Cran Temarch to that role and took Nuro Tualin as her wingman. Another pilot was brought in from one of the experienced squadrons as well, but Dorset hadn’t met her yet.

They returned to Mon Remonda at the end of the week and were soon back in the contested zone between New Republic forces and Zsinj’s territory. Their objective was to locate and destroy Iron Fist, but Polearm Squadron found themselves fighting on enemy terms first.

Alarm klaxons rang as Dorset ran from the cafeteria to the hangar, pulling her life support vest on as she did. Remonda was dropping out of hyperspace already, responding to a distress call from settlers in the Levian system. She scrambled up the ladder and slid into the seat, watching as Radie and Ro’aven lifted off from the ready five position on deck.

The remaining A-Wings were close behind, but the battle had ended before they arrived. Zsinj’s Raptor forces had bombed civilian targets across half the planet before breaking off in advance of a New Republic response. The bastards always seemed to cut and run.

Now all Polearm could do was offer assistance in finding survivors. The A-Wings fanned out in pairs, using their speed to head for the arid surface faster than their X-Wing counterparts.

That was the plan, anyway.

“Leader to Polearms, emergency recall! Zsinj just dropped in himself with two - strike that, four Star Destroyers and support ships. Plus Iron Fist. He set this whole thing up as an ambush.”

“Kriffing mudscuffer can’t handle a straight fight so he bombed civilians as bait,” Radie growled.

“Leader to Eleven - refrain from personal comments. But I agree.”

The Polearms raced back up through the atmosphere in a loose formation, the other snubfigher squadrons far behind. Remonda would need them to help guard against the attacking TIEs, especially as Zsinj had now brought in a third battle group behind the New Republic ships. 

“All Polearms, weapons free. Engage whenever able,” Mayn ordered.

They ripped through the TIE formation at full speed, focusing on Bombers as much as possible. Remonda’s point defenses and shields could handle assault from eyeballs and squints, but the dupes had concussion missiles, proton torpedoes and mines that packed a much greater punch. 

A-Wings were normally meant as anti-snubfighter interceptors, but today their mission included trying to shoot down enemy missiles in flight. The MC80’s could handle those strikes, but older ships like the aging Marauder-class corvette at the rear would be destroyed easily.

“Eight, I see a pair of dupes headed for Tedevium. You engage them; I’ll track the missiles,” she told Rushi. They dove in pursuit, Dorset sliding in front of the bombers for just long enough to hit the torpedoes before they could strike the repurposed training frigate. Twin detonations behind her A-Wing signaled that the bombers had been taken out as well.

Another Polearm wingpair rocketed by; Dorset recognized one as Radie’s and so the other was Ro’aven. 

“You want a hand, Eleven?” she asked.

“Affirm - two bomber flights are inbound for Etherway. Let’s kill them first,” Radie answered with a ferociousness that surprised even Dorset. She blinked and then raced to keep up, climbing for the endangered Marauder-class corvette.

Radie swept her fire across the bomber line, destroying three in quick succession. The last one blew up just seconds before her A-Wing flew through its debris cloud, and Ro’aven called for her to ease off a bit as they vaped the rest. Looks like she’s taken their civilian bombings hard.

“Leader to group, half the TIEs are breaking away to engage the Rogues, Wraiths and Novas. Keep on the stragglers for another 60 seconds; then break off to avoid getting caught in the firing zone between their ships and our fleet. Reserves will be arriving momentarily.”

Group 2 arrived as expected, with Mon Karren sliding in to help screen its flagship from the full barrage of Iron Fist. Being caught in the middle of that would have meant death for an A-Wing, but all the Polearms had gotten clear at Captain Mayn’s direction.

“Prepare for the jump to hyperspace - no time for even a combat landing,” she ordered as some of the fleet’s more vulnerable ships began to disappear already.

“Wait, what about the civilians on Levian Two?” Tetengo asked in shock. 

“We’re outmatched, Nine. There’s nothing we can do for them. Hopefully Zsinj leaves as soon as our fleet does. I know it’s kriffed up - but that’s the way it is.”

Once they returned from hyperspace in a nearby system to land back on Mon Remonda, many of the pilots headed for their lounge on ship. They came alone, by wingpairs and occasionally in larger groups to relax and discuss what had happened with no formality among them. 

Dorset went there by herself - she’d seen how the retreat and leaving civilians behind rattled Rushi and Tetengo alike, and let them have some privacy in the quarters she and Rushi still shared. She glanced around the white-walled room as she sank into one of the egg-shaped chairs and took a long breath of the crisp dry air, tucking her legs up and crossing them in front.

The latest member of Polearm Squadron sat down next to her, and Dorset was going to lean over and introduce herself when one of the Rogues started to speak. Sitting to Dorset’s right, that woman said they should have expected the warlord to change the rules he fought by. 

Most of the Wraiths present were grouped as couples, with Kell and Tyria on a couch and Face sitting at a table with a Twi’lek woman who hadn’t been at Folor or Borleias. The hybrid of pilot and commando unit had its own replacements, Dorset noted sadly. Sarkin had asked the Rogue - Inyri Forge - what she meant, and now the brown-haired woman was explaining what the Mon Remonda starfighter complement had been doing while the Wraiths were on special missions. 

“We’ve been following Zsinj all over space: into regions he controls, into New Republic regions he’s assaulting, wherever we can find signs of his passage. We found little hints we can’t afford to investigate, because many of them are false clues he’s leaving to lead us into a trap or waste our time and resources. We also find the remains of full-scale assaults, where we always arrive too late - he’s in and out before we can mount a response,” Forge told the assembled Wraiths.

“But today, we get number two - and not only had he figured out our pattern of response times, but he was waiting around to hit us when we arrived.”

Captain Klivian, Dorset’s initial flight instructor at the academy, noted dourly that Zsinj’s strength - around 20 capital ships - had also exceeded the estimates from New Republic Intelligence.

First they kriffed up at Djurmo, now this. Next we’ll learn Iceheart or Vader or Palpatine survived on their watch.

“So,” Inyri finished, “we have to change our tactics to suit him, and that’s not good.”

Loran argued that they should find a way to alter Zsinj’s tactics rather than changing their own, and now the Devaronian at the bar had started a side debate with one of the other new Wraiths, a fit woman with brown hair and skin. Dorset tuned their bickering out until she heard him say that General Solo had been running scared because of the woman’s own intelligence analysis.

That brought a stop to all other conversations in the room in a hurry, and Dorset listened in rapt amusement as the disgruntled woman explained exactly how the analysis process worked and the very limited role she played in it. The whole room seemed to be watching, with the exception of a Nova Squadron pilot in the corner too entranced by the music playing through her headset.

To his credit, the Devaronian - Elassar was his name - responded by acknowledging that he didn’t know much about intelligence operations, but just wanted to fly and to vape the enemy.

“Pilots have other jobs,” the woman named Shalla said, detailing how they shouldn’t go straight into the ground, a star or a battle chosen and set by the enemy. “I don’t question that you’re brave, Elassar. But are you so brave that you’re happy to die pointlessly?”

“So, what do we do?” Dorset cut in, bored of their argument - even though she’d been slightly intimidated by the presence of the Rogues and usually stayed quiet in these pilot gatherings.

“Either we keep running around, gathering Zsinj’s crumbs and getting nowhere - or we bite on the bait he’s deliberately leaving and let him draw us in,” Dorset continued to them pensively.

Forge turned to face her, discussing the need to regain the initiative with bait of their own.

“Such as what, Mon Remonda?” asked Myn, seated opposite them. “Have her limp through Zsinj-controlled space like a wounded avian and hope he comes swooping in to finish her off?”

Elassar placed one boot on a footrest, turning slightly to point in the air while the other hand grasped an imaginary sheathed sword. “No - offer him Elassar Targon: Master of the Uni-”

“Sithspit,” Inyri interrupted before the Devaronian finished his proclamation. “You’re obnoxious. But you’re on the right track. I was thinking we ought to offer him General Han Solo.”

“Don’t do that,” called out Captain Klivian - also sitting at the bar and sounding as mournful as Targon did grandiose. “If Zsinj kills Solo, Wedge might be appointed to fill the vacancy.”

Inyri responded that her squadmate had a good point, then asked Kell about General Solo’s past trips around New Republic space and the Folor Base ruse that occurred during the attack. Dorset uncrossed her legs and leaned forward with interest, looking to see if any other ex-Blue Squadron pilots were present. She only saw the newest transfer to Polearm; the room was filled mainly with X-Wing pilots. A seat in the corner had been left facing away by the last occupant.

“We have a track record of General Solo occasionally embarking on special missions even while commanding the Zsinj task force; and if there’s anyone Zsinj might change his plans to nab, it’s Han Solo,” Inyri said after the Folor discussion. “A chance for revenge is a powerful motivator.” 

“I like it,” chimed in a man from the egg-chair Dorset had thought was empty. He had a Corellian accent, and she thought Commander Antilles had been listening until the seat turned to reveal General Solo himself. She resisted the urge to jump up at attention; the room was still no décor.

“There are two problems with this plan,” Solo continued, reminding Inyri and the group that he didn’t have the Falcon with him in the fleet - and that Zsinj’s motives were unknown once more, as a result of the Wraiths’ success at predicting his Kuat raid to steal the Razor’s Kiss.

“We have one lead: Saffalore,” Face responded. Dorset didn’t know what that meant, but the general appeared to as he said Mon Remonda would split off from the fleet to head there next. On the way out, Solo added that they should also pursue the idea of luring Zsinj out after him.

“Never can tell when a Corellian will pop up,” Myn said. Dorset glanced bemusedly in his direction. Even if you don’t have a use for them, it’s certainly better odds for a Corellian than someone from most other planets - there’s Solo, Commander Antilles, Horn, Radie and you. 

Dorset was hard-pressed to think of a planet with more New Republic pilots - maybe Ryloth?

Elassar had started knocking his head against the bar top, and Dorset shifted her gaze to him with a mix of concern and slight amusement. He cursed his luck for saying that the general ran from combat in his presence, then - when another pilot reminded him they couldn’t even drink yet - began to beg for death. The new one’s even crazier than the rest of them, Dorset thought.

She was planning to leave and find some other Polearm pilots - maybe taking the transfer with her - when Face told Inyri they could try to replicate “what Kell and Runt did” in the Folor raid. Dorset sat back, waiting for her opportunity to set the record straight with the presence of Blue Squadron. Inyri asked about using X-Wings with malfunctioning shields to pretend they were the Falcon and Dorset couldn’t contain her low sigh of indignation. Damn X-Wing glory-thieves.   

“I didn’t mean that specifically - but in a general sense, yes. What they did was to fake up a Millennium Falcon,” Face continued as Dorset rolled her eyes. “With more time and resources, we could do a better job.” She was steaming now, but some of the other pilots in the room had approving expressions so Dorset bit back her retort about who had really gotten the job done. 

Face and Inyri were now talking about the Rogues’ unlikely quartermaster, a protocol droid, and how the idea was worth exploring further. Suddenly, Lieutenant Corran Horn - the Rogues’ latest potential Jedi pilot - entered the flight lounge and asked what was going on with everyone. 

“We were talking about how X-Wings are still a pudknocker’s snubfighter, in spite of your little Lancer story,” the woman to the left muttered under her breath in response to Horn’s question. Dorset choked on her caf, regarding the newest Polearm pilot with sudden interest. She was blonde with bright green eyes and a wide smile, a few centimeters taller than Dorset and likely a year or two older.

“What was that about?” Dorset asked, leaning over conspiratorially while the other pilots were laughing at Horn’s continued ability to show up as soon as Solo left. “I’m Dorset, by the way.”

“Linna Irarch - I’m from Naboo, cut my teeth flying vintage N-1’s as a teenager before joining Captain Cracken’s Ace Squadron,” she said, shaking Dorset’s hand. “When the Rogues were out on their little Thyferra side operation, we had to set down on the station they were using. Horn and I had a bit of a disagreement about the merits of A-Wing speed versus whatever X-Wings offer.”

Dorset giggled. “I had a similar dustup of my own with a couple Wraiths back during training - I still need to get them back for it.” She glanced over as the pilots started to leave for a briefing room and Inyri told Corran he’d be taking notes. “We’re going to get along splendidly, I expect, but we can’t let them do all the planning alone or there won’t be anything for us to do. C’mon.” 

She and Linna both jogged over to the tail end of the group as the Devaronian Wraith saw them and looked relieved. “Ladies, please: you both fly A-Wings, you could shoot me down faster-”

“We’ll think about it, Elassar,” Dorset interjected before the pilot could finish his request. “Just so you know, Inyri: it wasn’t Wraith, Dinner or Silly squadrons that actually posed as the Falcon on Folor. That was 100 percent Blue Squadron, and we A-Wing pilots are happy to help again.”

 Her comment drew another round of laughs from the Rogues and Wraiths. “Duly noted,” Inyri said. “Come along then, let’s see what half- to full-moonbat caliber ideas we can all think up.”

Chapter Text

15

“Obviously we’ll need a semi-working YT-1300 first,” Face said as he pulled up schematics for that class of vessel and looked around the group - Dia, Kell, Tyria, Runt, Shalla, Elassar and Myn; Inyri, Hobbie and Corran from the Rogues; plus Linna and Dorset herself. “Ideas on that?” 

“Emtrey might be able to help find one,” Inyri said, turning to Corran. “If not, would your wife or father-in-law have any tricks up their sleeve to buy a freighter?” Jedi skills aside, Horn looked decidedly unenthusiastic about the second half of her query. “I can ask Mirax,” he replied.

“Does the New Republic not have any? If there’s one we could just requisition, that would make this a lot easier,” Tyria said. The fleet used a lot of freighters for short hauls, so it was possible.

“Maybe,” Corran answered. “We have to play this close to the vest, though, so word doesn’t get to Zsinj or the Empire. Hobbie, who were those two kids the Rogues flew with before Endor?”

“The Azzameens,” Klivian said after a moment of thought. “They had a YT-1300 and a YT-2000. Do you know how hard it would be to convince them, though? Aeron already lost her YT-1300.”

“It’s been awhile, but I know a freight hauler who works with this Coruscanti woman and has a YT-1300 - she’d probably lend it to the fleet if General Solo asked for it,” Dorset added.

“Okay - first option is to have Mirax and Emtrey check around Corellia and with scrapyards, then we fall back to borrowing one if necessary,” Face said. “Once we pull that off, what’s next?”

“We need to find someone to pose as a fake Solo to go with the fake Falcon - he might want to fly it personally but New Republic Fleet Command will never go for that,” Kell said as he shared a nod with Dorset. At least someone recognizes Blue Squadron’s role on Folor, she thought. 

“Commander Antilles would be the best bet,” Tyria said. “He can fly Corellian ships better than any of us, assuming we can drag him out of the X-Wing. If not - maybe Fleet Command will loan us Captain Tabanne again? She knows Corellian ships well too and is good in a fight.”

Dorset didn’t know who that was, but it looked like the three Rogues weren’t sure either.

“If Wedge doesn’t do it, there’s a bomber pilot from before my time with the Rebellion who could instead,” Tycho said. “She worked with Princess Leia more than Han, but flew the Falcon once.”

“Let’s say we find a usable YT-1300 and get a crew,” Corran said. “How do we use it as bait?”

“We could let it be recognized, get Zsinj to chase after it, then drop in with all the ships the fleet provided to General Solo’s task force,” Myn suggested. Other pilots glanced around quietly - the idea was quite similar to how Zsinj’s forces had killed everyone else in Donos’ Talon Squadron. 

“We could also fill it with high explosives, let him tractor it in and find a way for the crew to get out before the boom,” Kell offered. “Or we put the bomb in the escape pods, let him grab those.”

“That’s a lot of risk if you come under fire - but what if you put the explosives somewhere else?” Corran asked, manipulating the holo display to pull up YT-2400 schematics as well. “Try this - we take a YT-1300 and disguise it as the later model by taking off the front nacelles and adding an outer shell that contains the bomb. Do it well enough that it’s a credible attempt but not so good that it can’t be detected as the YT-1300, then wait for Zsinj to hunt it down - and boom.”

Dorset glanced sidelong at Linna for a moment, flashing a grin, then stepped up to look closely at the display as well. “There’s another benefit to that mock up,” she told the group, pointing to one of the standard escape pods on a YT-1300. “When you build the shell around here, you can stash an A-Wing on the inside. Once the time comes to detach the disguising components, now there’s an escort fighter on standby as well. It’ll be especially useful if we’re inside the shield.”

Linna had squeezed past as well and draped her arm around Dorset’s shoulder, her lips forming a broad smile. “That’s another thing you need A-Wings for - in addition to our superior speed.” 

The X-Wing pilots stared at them like possible hostiles for a moment, then chuckled and shook their heads. Celchu nodded in agreement after some further study of the side airlock, however.

“They’ve got a point,” he told the other Rogues and Wraiths. “You could just barely fit an A-Wing in there, or maybe a VCX auxiliary fighter if we could find one - but that’s about all it can hold.”

Dorset and Linna smirked triumphantly at the other pilots, knocking their fists together. Celchu had flown an A-Wing at Endor and other battles - so while he was still one of the X-Wing pilots, the Rogues and Wraiths took his praise of the interceptor’s capabilities as unimpeachable fact.

“Of course, we could also bolt an X-Wing to the hull for the ride in,” Tycho continued. “It wouldn’t offer a way in and out like the A-Wing, but on a short hop that won’t be too uncomfortable.”

The delegation - Captain Celchu and Lieutenant Horn; Face, Kell and Shalla; and Dorset - went over the idea with Commander Antilles and Lieutenant Janson after the next morning’s briefing. An unconventional mission like this would surely fall under the Wraiths’ purview. 

“You know, I’m getting concerned that this idea is coming from members of three squadrons. It should be limited to the usual Wraith inventiveness but now that’s spreading,” Wedge told them.

Janson barely suppressed a laugh. “Guess you know how General Crespin felt at Folor.”

“Anyway, I like the thoughts about incorporating an X-Wing or A-Wing as part of the operation. Face, how much do you remember about flying A-Wings from your time - brief as it was?”

“Not much, I’m afraid, and it ended poorly too. I’d also rather not buy one again.”

Dorset side-slipped her way to the front. “With respect, sir, Polearm Squadron can see this op through. And I was part of the original action our idea is based on.” She didn’t add that Radie had some YT-2000 experience, though; that information had been shared in confidence.

Antilles nodded. “As long as Captain Mayn is willing to approve it. I’d like to try the idea with an X-Wing first, before we get really creative with attempting a YT-2400 disguise. I’ll talk to Han about whether Chewie could help to get the YT-1300 functional and take part in missions.”

He turned and left, Janson close behind - until Antilles had entered the turbolift. Then Janson returned to the room.

“Tycho, you’re forgetting something.” He had a merry grin and they all groaned.

“If this does all work out, he’s going to be flying with Chewbacca - and Wedge won’t understand a thing he’s told.”

Celchu’s eyes narrowed. “Did you tell him that on the way out, or are you just withholding a mission-sensitive problem from the commander?”

“Oh, I’ll let him know when the time is right,” Janson said as his smile somehow grew. “But first, let’s place some bets on what he’ll say after I do.”

The next mission did not involve the decoy YT-1300 - the acquisitions team was still searching for a suitable candidate. Polearm Squadron wasn’t included in the plan either, but Dorset sat in on the briefing anyway as they would be held in reserve. A-Wings would work a lot better than X-Wings for insertion as part of a meteor shower. Maybe we can use that someday.

She was glad to be there: the blonde Wraith woman kept correcting her commander, Garik "Face" Loran, on details of the intelligence aspect. He’s right - Lara really is a natural for this sort of thing.

Once the day’s impromptu entertainment was over, Dorset filled the rest of Polearm Squadron in on the important details. And then they waited to see whether the X-Wings would need rescue.

The Rogues and Wraiths returned the next day - but it was clear something had gone wrong on Saffalore. Half the Wraiths’ fighters bobbled and shook on their approach, barely touching down safely. And medical personnel were flooding into the hangar for them.

Dorset, Elana, Radie and Ro’aven stopped the conversation they’d been having by the A-Wings and broke into a run toward them. The medics had brought in tracked lifts, so they were level to the X-Wing cockpits, and repulsor stretchers. Dorset started to say something to the others, but her voice caught as she saw Runt slouched in his X-Wing, barely conscious. 

The Thakwaash’s eyes were wide and moving every direction without focusing. His fur was charred black. How he’d landed in that condition was a mystery Dorset didn’t want to know.

And he wasn’t the only one. Tyria, apparently unhurt, paced by the next X-Wing in line. The medics were reaching into its cockpit to help that pilot climb onto the stretcher. The hand that stretched out to them was burned dark and bleeding as well, shaking wildly. Kriff, that’s Kell.

Dorset touched her on the shoulder. “Hey. Kell’s tough, all right? They’re going to be ok.”

“They dropped us into an incinerator,” Tyria said quietly. “Tried to burn us alive. Everyone else got it real bad, except for me. I don’t understand…”

Tyria didn’t talk about it, but Dorset had heard her Force abilities were growing in strength. Maybe that was the reason. The medics were lowering Kell down now; his chest was scarred with burns and his hair had been singed too. At least his face was largely uninjured.

“All of you got out alive,” Elana added as she caught up to them. “Focus on that.”

Tyria nodded, trailing off to follow the stretchers to the medical ward. The four Polearms stood and watched them, looking disturbed at what the stormtroopers had done to the Wraiths. Death in a shootout’s one thing, but setting up a fiery ambush? Zsinj will pay, they all thought.

Chapter Text

16

Dorset was jogging toward the briefing room to learn about the latest mission, but slowed to a walk when her chrono showed she still had three minutes to spare. Near the entrance, one of the cafeteria workers was handing out extra cups of caf. A little odd but I’m glad for it, she thought to herself. The man was offering some of the caf to Ro’aven, but Dorset chuckled as the Twi’lek briskly pushed past without a word.

You’d think he knows Ro’aven can’t stand the stuff, she thought, changing course to stop by his cart. “She’s not rude, just in a hurry and this makes her jittery,” Dorset told the man as she took two of the taller cups from a tray and sipped the first one. “It’s good,” she added, grinning at him - the workers who made caf were some of the most important support staff, after the mechanics.

She stuck around to drink half of the first cup and saw the man wave down one of the Rogues, a large Twi’lek who looked to be over two meters tall. What is this, ‘Get a Twi’lek to Drink Your Caf Day?' Dorset thought in amusement. Maybe it’s a new competition among the cafeteria workers.

The pair stepped around a corner to talk privately, and she shook her head before turning back around as other Rogues walked into the briefing room. Upon entering, Dorset set the cups down and shifted her helmet bag off her shoulder to place it on the floor as well. Commander Antilles was moving to the front of the briefing room now and had activated the holographic display.

“For the last few hours, we’ve been in hyperspace en route to the Jussafet system,” he began as an image of a star cluster and fuzzy diamond-shaped nebula appeared. The star in question was blinking yellow for easier identification and lay on the edges of Zsinj’s known territory.

“Jussafet Four is a habitable planet with some mining businesses, but the system’s real wealth is in asteroid mining; they have an asteroid belt that is the remains of a large iron-core planet that broke up,” Antilles said after reminding them of the system’s border status. Zsinj’s elite unit, the Raptors, had invaded the planet and today’s mission was to repel them. It was possible but unlikely that the Empire would have elements dispatched with the same objective, he added.

At least they could be reasonably sure the day’s mission wasn’t leading them into another trap.

“We’ll launch as soon as we drop into the system. Polearm’s A-Wings will take point and make the initial fly-over on Jussafet Four. Rogue Squadron and Nova’s B-Wings will head into the asteroid belt to begin purging it of Zsinj forces. We have four flyers of Wraith Squadron active, and they’ll escort shuttles of New Republic ground forces in to Jussafet Four,” Antilles finished.

Loran, ever the actor, offered a decent impersonation of the giant Twi’lek in Rogue Squadron, saying the Wraiths could do the babysitting now and forever. It drew laughs from most pilots, though not the Twi’lek himself. Spinning a datapen between her fingers, Dorset saw that Horn, the force sensitive one, was looking at the Twi’lek questioningly due to his lack of a reaction.

The pilots filed out of the briefing room, Dorset and a few other Polearms trailing Donos, Loran and Passik from Wraith Squadron. The red-haired caf worker from before - Galen? no, Galey - was still hanging around by the cart waiting for them to leave and waved down her group.

“Excuse me, Flight Officer Tualin! A moment of your time?” he asked Nuro, and Dorset snorted out loud. “I think you missed one,” she told the man good-naturedly, pointing toward Dia Passik further down the hallway. The exchange also got Donos’ attention, as he looked back curiously.

The snubfighters would be launching as soon as Mon Remonda dropped out of hyperspace, so they went over readiness checks inside the hangar. Dorset listened with half an ear as Captain Mayn started the sequence, then followed her new friend Linna in the Polearms’ order.

“Seven here - two engines steady and waiting to kick in,” she reported with a smile. This should be a good day. 

They took off, gathering up a klick away from the hangar to move in as one formation. That was the plan.

Nuro came over the comm. Like many others - too many - he’d come up from Gold Squadron as a replacement. Dorset didn’t know him well yet, though they had flown together at Kuat.

“Polearm Two to Polearm Leader - I have a critical failure of my sublight engine,” he reported. With his thruster power falling fast, Captain Mayn ordered her wingman to turn back.

Dorset sighed, pushing her engines to full power and rocketing away from the other squadrons - and Mon Remonda - as they headed for the small planet high at three o’clock. Cran and Varyl would certainly be giving their friend grief about the mission he’d missed out when they landed.

The comm channel came back on with a message from Commander Antilles to Wraith Four.

Tyria had apparently turned back too, following Nuro. Did she have engine trouble too but only announce it on her squadron frequency? Kriff, we’re down two fighters and haven’t even left the staging area. Dorset started double-checking her systems, waiting for the order to attack.

A panicked shout over the group channel cut through her thoughts like a vibroblade - Dorset heard the words but didn’t understand.

Tyria was yelling for Remonda to raise shields.

“Polearm Two is firing on you!” She screamed over the comm.

What?

Dorset had heard rumors about the various powers Force-sensitivity provided. The ability to move things with their mind, heightened alertness, intuition. She hadn’t considered it could lead to seeing things that weren’t happening. Nuro would never do that - right?

“Leader to Polearms, remain in formation.” Captain Mayn’s voice carried a trace of concern. “Remonda, come in, over? Do you read?”

The X-Wings of Rogue Squadron were close behind, with Nova’s B-Wings in their wake. They’d be arming weapons now, at least under normal conditions.

“Leader, break off!” It was a man’s voice, but in the confusion Dorset didn’t recognize whose.

She craned her head around, saw a pair of lasers catch the tail of an X-Wing even as it swung away from the unexpected assault.

Pilots from all the squadrons were calling out in confusion, seeking orders.

Dorset glanced around in all directions; she was behind four - no, three now - fighters of First Flight, with Cran and Linna to her left. That put Tetengo and Varyl back and to the left, while Radie and Ro’aven were directly behind her and Rushi.

Nuro had fired on Mon Remonda. Captain Celchu was saying that Rogue Five - Tal’dira - was the one who had fired at Commander Antilles.

Ro’aven was at the rear of the entire formation.

Dorset looked back again, and felt shame at the impulse.

“Twelve to Leader - Captain, I don’t know what the kriff is going on here. Certainly not any more than you do. I’m preemptively powering down my weapons and engines to await your orders.”

“Noted, Twelve. I’ll escort you back to Mon Remonda while command sorts this situation out. Do not deviate from the course you’re given - understood?”

“Affirmative,” Ro’aven replied.

That left the Polearms under temporary command of Tetengo himself. Normally Dorset would have been thrilled to see her first wingman get to lead a squadron. But not like this.

Captain Mayn returned a few minutes later and resumed command. 

“Leader to Eleven - you’re my wing,” she told Radie. It made sense: Mayn’s wingman had just been killed by Tyria Sarkin before he could strike Mon Remonda’s bridge, and Radie’s was now in the custody of the ship’s military police pending further investigation.

“Yes, ma'am. Captain Mayn, ma'am.” Radie’s harsh tone made it clear she had more to say about the situation and forcing Ro to turn back, but at least she was waiting for their mission to end.

“Listen up, Polearms: We’re going to sort out what just happened. But first, we have a Raptor assault to repel. When it comes to shuttles and troops confirmed as Zsinj’s, you’re cleared for weapons free. Anything else, only engage if fired upon. This is an Imperial world, but it will be easier to capture later if we’re seen as heroes today.”

Dorset switched her comm channel to just Rushi and Tetengo. She hadn’t talked to them as much lately; not like when they were at Folor. Missions and alertness drills kept getting in the way, and the couple spent a lot more free time together now that their relationship was known.

“You two all squared away?”

“I’m good to go,” Rushi answered, her voice cool.

“Yeah - roger that,” Tetengo said, sounding less certain.

“Good. Watch your backs out there, okay?” 

Dorset scowled at her thought. The pilots had already seen two of their own turn today - and Tetengo’s wingman was nominally ex-Imperial. Cracken’s people haven’t had a great record with the vetting lately… Having to worry about a laser to the back was some nasty business.

And if she were ordered to fire on a friendly… Dorset’s scowl deepened. They were trained on how interceptor duty could mean responding to an off-course vessel entering a restricted area, but this would be different.

A lot different.

Chapter Text

17

The RZ-1B A-Wing was designed for two purposes - intercepting enemy starfighters and waging hit and fade attacks on their capital ships. But swiveling cannons, paired with its low stall speed, also made them viciously effective at prosecuting ground personnel who lack anti-air defenses.

The Raptor forces that had invaded Jussafet Four were learning of this capability the hard way.

They may call themselves by that name, but today we’re the predator avians on the hunt. Dorset looked at the field ahead and saw a team of stormtroopers trying to set E-Webs up on a ridge.

She made sure her targeting system was focused on them before loosing a flechette missile. By the time Dorset completed her twisting bank away, the group had already been vaporized.

“Eleven to Group - I have a visual on four scout walkers, fleeing at one-five-three. Moving to engage,” Radie reported. Her tone was terse; Captain Mayn had told Radie to select enemy targets at will. Mayn, on the other hand, was circling overhead in case of any TIE Fighters.

“I have effective tone - lasers on target. Firing,” Radie updated. Dorset could see her A-Wing come screaming behind the vulnerable AT-STs, and then red fire poured from its wingtips. The walkers exploded, one after the other, as her blasts kicked up clouds of dirt in all directions.

The Polearms were tired, angry and frustrated about Nuro’s death and Ro’aven being sent back to Mon Remonda. Paying the Raptors back in kind was a good distraction. Other pilots streaked past, strafing enemy troops on the ground. There was no danger to it and little challenge, but if they didn’t the Raptors would be fighting Jussafet Four’s limited Imperial detachment instead.

They’re lucky we don’t use pyrophoric munitions, Dorset thought coldly. She had no sympathy for them; the Raptors were known for attacks on civilians and massacres of planetary defense forces. The field was littered with black-armored bodies by the time they were low on fuel.

They were still refueling when they heard an Imperial Star Destroyer had arrived in-system, but the Polearms weren’t scrambled after all. Something else was going on there. Captain Mayn told them to rest, but almost all were too wired for that yet. One of their own had been coerced into attempting to kill the commander of the entire fleet, and there were no answers as to why.

Dorset spoke briefly with Carmiya, who relayed even more concerning news from her brother, then entered the pilot’s lounge. Radie was sitting at the bar alone, a large datapad at her side, as she drank what looked like Whyren’s but was instead a nonalcoholic substitute provided for the pilots on alert status. Three empty glasses sat on the bartop next to her, worrying Dorset.

“Hey, Flare,” Radie said cheerlessly, using the name Ro’aven had made up for Dorset when they were training at Folor Base. She wore an unzipped gray flightsuit of her own now.

“How’s Ro?” Dorset asked.

Radie snorted. “I don’t know; the MPs hauled her away as soon as she landed and locked her in our quarters. I went by to change and shower but some NRI people were still grilling her, asking her to go over everything she and Nuro talked about; if she ever had contact with Tal’dira. They wanted to tear through my half of the room, too, and check for any hidden transmitters I guess.”

“I’m sorry. Everybody’s on edge with what happened.”

“Sure, but you can bet they’re not doing this with any of Commander Antilles’ people,” Radie said disdainfully. “Pity our captain doesn’t have that kind of pull with Command. And it’s not even like this was limited to Twi’leks, either! I heard Cran and Varyl talking, three Gotals shot dozens of soldiers at a barracks hall back on Coruscant.”

Radie glanced around the room to see if anyone was in earshot, then leaned closer to Dorset. “You don’t think this could lead to the Provisional Council being suspended, do you? With Leia Organa on that diplomatic mission and Admiral Ackbar in the field aboard Home One … I know Fey’lya’s pompous and annoying, but if this alien rampage thing spreads and he’s gone too-”

Radie didn’t finish her sentence, opting to go for more of the drink instead.

Dorset blinked. “Carmiya told you there was an attempt on Mon Mothma, right? How she’s in surgery now?”

Radie cursed under her breath. “I missed that. Damn. Zsinj is a crafty bastard, I’ll admit it. So who’s in charge now?”

“No idea, but you can bet Fey’lya is angling for it. I never figured you would be so interested in galactic politics like this.”

Radie forced a light smile. “I’m Corellian. We’re genetically coded for obnoxious independence, I just needed to double check who I should be mad at.” She paused, drank a bit more. “How do you think Zsinj did it? Assuming it was him, and not Imperial Intelligence up to some dirty tricks.”

“Bribery, maybe, or kidnapping their families?”

Radie frowned. “I’m not sure the entire wealth of the Banking Clan could buy the honor of a Twi’lek warrior like that. One, maybe, but definitely not two at once. And neither lived to spend the money - they would have had to expect that. No, it’s got to be because of a kidnapping.”

Dorset shifted in her seat and nodded. “Does Ro’aven have family that could be targeted? I’ve never heard her talk about them.”

Radie sighed. “Not really, her parents died about a year before she joined up. Old age, actually, which is a pretty big deal for Twi’lek warriors. No siblings, either.”

“Hmm. Maybe there was a drug in the caf, some mind-altering substance cooked up for Twi’leks specifically. I remember Nuro and Tal’dira having some, but we know Ro’aven wouldn’t. I’m fairly sure the new one in Wraith Squadron didn’t either.”

Radie puzzled over that. “Could be, but a drug like that without any other directives? Doesn’t make sense how they would both go after command in different ways like that, unless Nuro really did have a sublight engine failure and diverted away from targeting Captain Mayn.”

“That’s true. I hate to say it, but maybe we should leave this to the professionals at NRI. Oh, if they’re still questioning Ro when you want to sleep then check with Elana and Carmiya. They usually put me up when I’m giving Rushi and Tetengo the room.”

Radie chuckled. “Thanks, Dors. See you tomorrow.” She finished the false drink and left, holding the datapad at her side with her helmet and flight vest.

Morning brought more bad news.

Captain Mayn brought the squadron together in the lounge, and Ro’aven wasn’t there.

“Listen up,” their commander said wearily. “This order comes from the Provisional Council. All Twi’lek personnel in the fleet have been temporarily removed from duty, effective now. I know you will have strong feelings about this. You get an hour to talk it out among yourselves, but after that I expect this squadron to act professionally - that means respecting the chain of command all the way to the top. Flight Officer Ro’aven will be here to join you shortly.”

Dorset sighed and scanned the room, looking to see how the others were taking it. They’d all expected to hear something like this soon enough, given how Ro’aven was treated before.

“Well - there it is,” Radie said, climbing out of her egg chair. The red-haired Corellian began to circle the lounge, and Dorset knew she’d never seen her this angry. Even if the woman tried unsuccessfully to hide it. She looked like she hadn’t gotten an hour’s sleep either.

“Sure, it’s Twi’leks now - but you don’t think this will have to expand it when Zsinj gets his hooks into some other poor sap? I’m sorry to be blunt, but reptilian species could be next after Gotals,” Radie said as she faced Rushi and Tetengo directly. “How do you think that’s going to feel?”

Tetengo started to respond, but she had already moved on to the next point.

“This is just limited to the rank and file, I’m sure - there’s no way they’d relieve battle group commanders like General Syn-” Radie was cut off as Ro’aven entered the room, looking tired.

“All I’m saying - if command says she’s not worthy, then what good are they to us? They’re not the only ones who could be fighting the Empire out here.” Radie stopped, though it was clear she was on the verge of adding something else.

Dorset swallowed hard, looking around nervously. She understood the passion, but a potential resignation was one thing. Radie was dangerously close to desertion and mutiny now. 

And that meant they all had a duty to report her, or they’d be guilty too.

“Enough,” Ro’aven said finally, grabbing Radie by the shoulders and holding her there to stop her incessant pacing. “You all keep fighting, I’ll be back as soon as they figure out what Zsinj used to twist Nuro’s mind. We all know he would’ve never done that willingly. But if we quit now, he died for nothing. If the New Republic falls apart over this, he died for nothing. So I’ll wait.”

“I didn’t mean that we’d give up the fight for good,” Radie told her quietly. “Just that-”

“I know what you meant,” Ro’aven interrupted firmly. “But I swore an oath and I’m not walking away from that, even if they don’t hold faith with me now. Neither are you - not for my sake.”

Radie sighed. “Fine. But I’m doing it because you asked, not for some puffed up suit back on Coruscant.”

Chapter Text

“Flight Officer Konnair, report to Bay Gamma One.”

Dorset looked up from where she was playing sabacc in Ro and Radie’s room. It had been four days since Ro’aven was summarily relieved of duty. Morale remained low, despite her request for the squadron to fight on in her absence, but they got by.

They’d begun a habit of signing out simulator time, then standing guard while Ro used it instead to keep practicing. They probably weren’t supposed to do that, but Captain Mayn seemed to be looking the other way. It was clear she didn’t agree with the order that had come down, either.

“What do you think that’s about?” Rushi asked as the bay message was repeated. 

“I’m not sure,” Dorset answered. It was partly true; she had an inkling but that was likely secret.

Sure enough, the hangar had been emptied off all snubfighters. In their place sat a YT-1300.

Not the Millennium Falcon, but close enough. In Dorset’s estimation, anyway.

Mechanics were working on preparing the YT-2400 shell, and Linna was already telling them to save space for an A-Wing. Dorset grinned.

“You angling to be the one flying with them?” she asked the Naboo pilot, stepping close enough to examine where the little snubfighter would go.

Linna half-turned and raised an eyebrow. “Me? It was your idea, I’ll stick to just being backup. You know you’d probably be taking on a full squadron of 181st TIEs or more, right?”

Dorset shrugged. “If that hulk’s going to stand in as the Falcon, it’ll need to be heavily armed. And Commander Antilles will be flying with Chewbacca on the guns. I’ll take my chances.”

Captain Celchu approached behind them, and they turned to salute.

“As you were. Wedge and I decided to try it in standard YT-1300 arrangement with my X-Wing attached first, then if that works we’ll bring up the 2400 mockup and an A-Wing. You’ve decided who will fly with the Millennium Falsehood?”

Linna smiled widely and pushed Dorset forward. “She’s the braver one, I’m afraid.”

Celchu nodded, and then they heard a deep rumble from above the freighter. Chewbacca was unsatisfied with something, and General Solo clambered up to ask about the latest problem.

Dorset and Linna glanced at each other. “You know what? Maybe I’ll spend the whole ride in my A-Wing.”

They ducked out not long after that, passing Commander Antilles in the hallway as he was on the way to examine the YT-1300’s progress himself. The Wraiths and Rogues were gathered in the pilot’s lounge, and the pair of Polearm Squadron pilots stopped outside the door to watch.

New Republic pilots generally spent most of their time within their squadrons; the intermingling Rogues and Wraiths were an exception as they shared a commander and mainly flew X-Wings.

“You wanna crash the party?” Linna asked with a sly grin.

Dorset pondered it, watching as Myn Donos moved around in an old Coruscant dance style with the blonde Wraith pilot. She was glad he’d bounced back after Falynn Sandskimmer’s death; Myn had been through so much already.

Face Loran and the Twi’lek, Dia, moved around at the center as well, but he seemed distracted. Probably because his dancing partner’s been taken off duty like Ro’aven, Dorset decided.

“No, let them have their moment. But we should book the lounge so our couples can turn it into a dance hall sometime soon as well.”

They returned to Ro and Radie’s quarters, and Rushi commed Tetengo so the sabacc game had an even number of players again. They were on their third hand when Varyl came running by.

“Drop the cards, there’s a mutiny going on.”

The players stared at him, slack-jawed, like he’d suddenly begun speaking Huttese. Radie and Ro’aven were the first up, with the former grabbing a cargo bag from under her bed and laying it on the table. Radie had removed the two CDEF carbines inside and passed one to Ro’aven by the time Varyl jumped in, raising his hands.

“Whoa, whoa. I was kidding - it’s not a real mutiny, just some morale stunt Commander Antilles is pulling. You gotta check it out.”

Radie sighed with relief, pushing a stray lock of hair back. “I’m glad you told me now, because the armory was going to be my first stop. That would’ve been hard to explain to the MPs.”

“Uh, yeah. How do you have clearance for those?” Linna asked as Radie tucked the bag back under her bed.

“Because I didn’t end my qualifications with the standard-issued BlasTech-38, that’s why.”

Dorset and Ro’aven exchanged a glance; they were the only ones who knew Radie spent a year with the Corellian underground at 15 before managing to get offworld. Old habits don’t fade, I guess. Obviously all that is approved if she’s kept it in the same room as Ro’aven. 

She’s probably worried about an outbreak of anti-Twi’lek attacks aboard the ship too.

“Okay, now that we’re not about to start a shipwide incident - let’s see what Antilles is doing?”

They quickly took Rushi’s suggestion to heart, jogging a half klick to the cafeteria.

The large room was disorganized now, tables scattered in all directions. Most were pulled into diagonal lines while others were clumped together. Commander Antilles was sitting at the one by the entryway, playing sabacc with Captain Mayn, General Solo, and a female Bothan pilot.

“Evening, Captain and sirs,” Rushi said, nodding to them. She didn’t know the Bothan’s rank.

Captain Mayn and Commander Antilles exchanged a look, and he nodded encouragingly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Mayn asked.

Rushi glanced back at Tetengo and Dorset in confusion; they were just as perplexed.

“Since we’re following Coruscant time, I said ‘Good evening, Captain?’”

“No.”

“Ma’am?” Rushi’s question was one of bewilderment now.

“No.”

Rushi looked back to Dorset and Tetengo again, and Dorset felt her own brow furrowing. There were some female commanders who insisted on being addressed as “sir,” but Mayn wasn’t one of them.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Commander Antilles asked them.

“Captain Todra Mayn of Polearm Squadron,” Radie interjected in slight annoyance. “Is this some kind of game?”

“No, she just looks like Mayn. Otherwise she’d be in full uniform, right?” Antilles said, tapping his own empty collar. “Wait - what are you six wearing? Are those flight officer bars?”

They glanced around; Ro’aven was the only one not in uniform since she was relieved of duty.

“Yes, sir - I mean yes,” Tetengo replied.

“Lose them,” the woman they’d addressed as Mayn directed.

“You got it,” Radie said as she took the bars off more eagerly than the others. “This some expansion of the no-décor policy?”

“Of a sort,” the brown-haired man with no rank said as he began to shuffle a sabacc deck. “I know you look like A-Wing pilots so you probably don’t have your own, but make sure you treat these astromech droids well. We couldn’t get off the ground without them.”

Radie leaned closer to Dorset. “You know that theory you had about there being some mind-altering substance in the ship’s caf? I’m ready to give it a whole lot more consideration now.”

Twenty minutes later, the group of seven was playing sabacc with Kell, Tyria and Runt as more pilots and crew streamed into the cafeteria. Word of the one-who-looked-like-Antilles’ stunt was spreading around the ship, and there wasn’t a rank insignia in sight.

“I know you Wraiths are an odd bunch, but this takes the ryshcate,” Radie said in amusement as she dealt a new hand, finally relaxing from her discontent over Ro’s suspension. “Never thought it would spread to someone who looks like your commander, either.”

“He’s surprised us all,” Tyria said as she checked her cards. “I think we can blame Runt for it.”

“Not Elassar?” the other blonde Wraith - Lara - asked as she stopped by, arm in arm with the one who looked like Lieutenant Donos. 

Tyria and Kell chuckled; apparently the Devaronian was often at fault for various misdeeds. 

“We can deal you in,” Tyria told the pair. Dorset shot a Watch your mouth glare at Tetengo; they had previously tried to have lunch with Notsil shortly after her arrival, only for the Churban pilot to unwittingly bring up the topic of her village’s devastation at the hands of Zsinj’s forces. Now, though, the Aldivy native seemed much more at ease and practically cheerful.

“Thanks, but we’re headed over to see how Tonin does in this astromech race,” Lara told them.

Radie fixed the Wraiths with a sly grin. “Trying to get a Corellian playing against me, were you?”

“You know it’s always better to have two people who don’t believe in odds,” Kell answered with a shrug before looking more serious. “No, we were hoping to get him engaged with the group a bit more. Myn’s doing better, certainly, but he still maintains a distance from us. Most of us, that is.”

The Polearm pilots nodded at that, and then the Wraiths had changed the subject by waving to a brown-haired woman in an unmarked Fleet Command uniform as she approached the table.

“We are going to look around as well,” Runt said as he stood and opened a space for the navy woman. Linna was visibly confused at that, but Dorset whispered that she would explain later.

“Hello, ones who look like Polearms,” the woman greeted them as she glanced at their patches. “When word got out to the whole fleet, I had to see this for myself,” she added to Kell and Tyria.

It took Dorset a moment to place the voice. “You’re the captain of Ession Strike, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “No… but I do sound like Atril Tabanne.”

“Well you’re in luck anyway, because we owe her the next round for that barrage on Djurmo.”

Dorset chuckled at the absurdity of it all as she went to retrieve fresh drinks, watching as the man who looked like Commander Antilles caught a chilled bottle from an astromech droid.

She spent the next several hours with the group, talking long into the night about their flying exploits. Dorset was pleasantly surprised to hear that the other Coruscanti woman had also been a pilot, before and even during her position with Fleet Command.

It’s nice to have someone I can relate to from back home again. Well, someone who looks like them, anyway.

At around midnight - by Coruscant time - the Polearms moved from the cafeteria to the pilot’s lounge. The Wraiths had it still set up for dancing, and with Myn and Lara’s acquiescence some of the A-Wing pilots took to the floor as Ro’aven and Radie watched in amusement.   

Rushi and Tetengo were out first, to a fast-tempo Rodian number, and then Elana and Cran tried to keep up. Dorset sat back and watched; soon Carmiya was inviting Varyl out after her. Linna brought two B-Wing pilots in, then dragged Dorset along too, and they all danced the night away.

Chapter Text

It took over a day before they all remembered who they were and the last stragglers left the cafeteria and pilot’s lounge. We needed something like that after Nuro’s death, Dorset thought as she drank an extra helping of caf. Radie was rubbing bacta on her forehead to drive off a hangover, but was smiling wider than Dorset had seen since Ro’aven was relieved from duty.

Polearm Squadron wasn’t going out on a mission soon, either, which helped. The Rogues and Wraiths were headed for the Kidriff system - and a Falsehood mission - on their own.

The X-Wings and TIE Interceptors launched the following morning, while Dorset and Radie watched from the ready five position in the hangar.

“Thanks again for taking Rushi’s shift,” Dorset said. “I’m sure Tetengo appreciates it too.”

Radie glanced up, distracted by a message she’d been typing on her datapad, then smiled. “No problem. NRI was back questioning Ro’aven and running some sort of brain scan, so I figured it would be a good way to stretch my legs for a bit and do something useful. Plus I owe her for checking in on Ro'aven when it was my shift the other day.”

Dorset nodded. “One of those Nova pilots from the other night told me the Wraiths held some wild speculation session on what Zsinj could be up to. Maybe NRI got useful stuff from it.”

Radie raised an eyebrow at the source of her information, and Dorset laughed. “Don’t start that again, I was just trying to make Linna happy.”

“Fine, I’ll shut up - for now,” Radie said with a smirk as she pulled her hair back into a typical messy ponytail and adjusted her white headband, in case they had to scramble. “Rushi and Tengo have a new bet going on for it, though.”

Dorset groaned, shivering slightly as Mon Remonda’s hangar doors remained open, and Radie chortled in amusement. 

“It never got too cold on Coruscant, huh?”

“Not really, with all the mirrors and how much we’d be indoors. I guess Corellia’s different?”

“Depending on the season or when it was raining hard, yeah. Sixty degrees isn’t uncommon for Coronet and in the mountains it was usually about 25. I can’t say it was fun - but I don’t mind chilly conditions now.” She laughed again as Dorset dug out her leather jacket and pulled it on, turning the collar up.

The two played a few rounds of dejarik until relieved by Carmiya and Elana. But they also were on schedule for ready five status the following day.

Dorset and Radie were playing sabacc this time when Captain Onoma came on the comm.

“Fighters on ready five - standby for scramble launch. Polearm and Nova squadrons, report to the hangar immediately for possible fleet combat. This is not a drill. All gunnery crews, battle stations. Repeat, this is not a drill.”

They jumped up from the table, cards left unplayed, and climbed in unison into their respective interceptors. Ladders were pushed away as they powered up the A-Wings and armed weapons.

“You ready, Radie?”

“Roger that, two engines burning and cannons ready. Got a full rack of missiles ready to give the Raptors if they show up. You think they found the fleet’s location?”

“Has to be that, I can see our support ships moving into a defensive screen.” Dorset checked her sensors. “Rogues and Wraiths are coming in, too - maybe they’ll land before Zsinj arrives and we can jump away in time.”

Behind them, the Polearms were running into the hangar and prepping their A-Wings as well. X-Wings and Wraith TIEs were touching down around them, followed by the Falsehood, and Mon Remonda jumped into hyperspace immediately once the X-Wings were secure.  

But one was missing.

Dorset and Radie exchanged a silent glance, then began searching to see which Wraiths and Rogues were accounted for. Commander Antilles was addressing Lieutenant Donos, but from Myn’s posture it was hardly a friendly conversation. Tyria was watching with a distressed look, while Kell did his best to comfort her. Runt was nearby, and there was Elassar - Tycho Celchu said something to Captain Mayn, and suddenly the Polearms’ commander had turned to them.

“Okay, everybody clear the hangar now. Give the Rogues and Wraiths some space, that’s an order! Squadron briefing in five minutes. Flight Officer Felian, comm Ro’aven and tell her to be there as well.”

The pilots looked at each other in confusion as they filed out, gathering in briefing room three as instructed. One of the NRI case officers who had been questioning Ro was at the front, checking names off. Nova Squadron’s pilots were also sitting down, and Dorset only offered a terse nod to the wave she received. Sorry, but there’s more important stuff going on - like whatever this is.

“How many of you have interacted with Flight Officer Lara Notsil?” the case officer asked once everyone was present. Dorset, Tetengo and Rushi raised their hands, as did Radie a moment later. The Nova Squadron pilots had little reaction, and Dorset imagined she’d envy them soon.

“You four - we’ll have questions later. The following information is highly classified. The woman identifying herself as Lara Notsil has been confirmed as an Imperial Intelligence operative. She previously served as a New Republic officer under a false name and engineered the ambush of Talon Squadron.”

Gasps echoed throughout the room as the pilots looked at each other in shock; Dorset found herself subconsciously muttering one of the fouler Huttese phrases she’d picked up. 

“Stang,” she continued under her breath. I hope Myn wasn’t covering for her or something. Wait, he led Talon - there’s no way he’d do that. She must have sought out their relationship to pull more intelligence from him. Still, Commander Antilles was definitely mad at him back there.

“We’re working to identify how much she may have provided to any Imperial forces as a result. That includes information on pilots’ families as well as battle plans and Remonda’s location, thus the emergency jump earlier. Her real name is Gara Petothel.”

“Do you think she had a hand in what happened to Nuro?” Cran asked the NRI case officer.

“Not at this time, but we’re looking into all possibilities. If anyone recalls her being in contact with either him or Tal’dira, let us know immediately.”

A day later, Dorset and Radie were directed to a private holocomm chamber to be questioned by another NRI analyst. Rushi and Tetengo followed the NRI officer aboard Remonda to a separate room of their own.

“I realize it’s not easy to find out someone you knew was working for the Empire,” the woman on the holo board told them, its blue light distorting her blonde-brown hair. The words were meant to be reassuring, and Radie shot a surprised look toward Dorset since they were being treated like witnesses rather than potential accomplices. She narrowed her eyes in curiosity a moment later, probably because of the analyst’s Corellian accent.

“I only talked to Notsil a few times, and Radie did even less,” Dorset replied. “I appreciate that, but it may be better suited for Commander Antilles’ group.”

“We have other agents handling the matter in regard to W- Wraith and Rogue squadrons,” the woman answered. “As you can imagine, this is getting a lot of focus given the prior situation with Dlarit.” The cold shift in her voice made it clear she took the latter betrayal personally.

“I’ll be reviewing the information we receive from Flight Officers Yivet and Noor,” the woman said as her eye twitched strangely on the mention of Tetengo’s last name. “I see he’s from Churba. Returning to Petothel, what can you tell me about the conversations you did have with her?”

“There wasn’t much to the last one - Radie and I flew a sim exercise with her and Face Loran. I think it was testing a maneuver he’d made up, you’d probably get more detail from asking him.”

“You said that was ‘the last one’ - what came before?”

“It was shortly after she’d arrived on Mon Remonda - I joined her at lunch with Tetengo Noor and Rushi Yivet. It didn’t go well - Tengo made some comment about their respective farming experience; she got really alarmed and took off. I thought it was because of her captivity.”

Dorset scowled as the realization hit her.

“It’s ok,” the woman said. “You’re trained as a pilot, not an intelligence officer. That info could be helpful - as I told Commander Antilles, we have more than enough to execute for treason. If we can prove that she had a hand in Aldivy’s destruction, purely for the sake of setting up this false identity - well, I want to make sure there’s a full accounting of her crimes at trial. In the unlikely event we manage to capture Petothel alive, anyway.”

Dorset nodded. “It’s a shame Trigit wasn’t willing to surrender, but at least that mystery woman let us know he was running and how to find him.”

The NRI analyst’s eyes narrowed. “What mystery woman?” 

“I don’t know, someone got on our comms and warned that Trigit was flying away in a squint - sorry, a TIE Interceptor - with two escorts. That’s what led Donos and General Crespin to hunt him down.”

“Interesting. I’ll look for more information on that, see if any of the battle transmissions are clear enough for voice analysis. You’ve been very helpful, flight officers.”

Dorset left the holoprojector chamber, Radie close behind and barely hiding a smile.

“Not that we’ll ever know, but I’d bet 50 credits - easily - that NRI analyst used to be one of the few CorSec agents who didn’t side with the Imps,” she told Dorset. “The way she was asking questions? I’m sure she was skilled at that job, too.”

Chapter Text

The following days brought some bright news, at least - Captain Mayn reported that the order taking Twi’lek personnel off duty had unofficially been rescinded, pending a formal vote, and there was now a blood test to identify any future brainwashing by Zsinj. Ro’aven carried the markers, but NRI had worked with medical personnel to synthesize an inhibitor treatment.

Commander Antilles was waiting for the briefing to end, and Mayn signaled Dorset to stay as well. Linna caught her eye and offered her standard wide grin; they knew what this was about.

“Sir?” Dorset asked, standing at attention.

“I wanted to have a word about your participation in the Millennium Falsehood project - there’s a high likelihood it will be exposed to Zsinj if Lara Notsil joins his forces again. I believe it’s still secure, but if you want to withdraw it won’t be held against you. Not even by the X-Wing pilots.”

He smiled at that, and she nodded. “I’d have to fight my way through TIEs no matter what.”

“Very well. We’ve drawn up a launch and docking sim - can you practice on it this week, while we start more routine flights?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get started on it right away.” 

Forty-five minutes later, Dorset had learned that the A-Wing’s speed would not be useful here. If anything, it was the main problem. Her first attempt, even at 20 percent thrust, still ended with it hitting Falsehood’s side hard enough to tear a three-meter hole and open the freighter to space.

Eventual attempts to land at a crawl left her easy prey if TIEs were still attacking the Falsehood; five of those landings resulted in the explosion of her A-Wing taking down the YT-1300 as well.

Dorset scowled in frustration at the latest failure, then commed Radie for help. The docking area of a YT-1300 and YT-2000 were close enough… hopefully.

“So this is the secret project you and Linna have been cooking up?” the Corellian asked as she arrived in the sim room and looked at the burning wreckage of the freighter on the holo display. Radie had been in the ship’s data library, and sounded more than happy for a distraction.

“It’s the Wraiths’ idea, we’re just trying to carve out an operational role for the A-Wings,” Dorset answered defensively.

“Really? Looks like you’re doing a better job carving up the Millennium Falcon,” Radie said as her lips curved into a barely restrained smirk.

Dorset glared over at her, tossing her flight gloves toward Radie’s face before they were deftly swatted away.

Then Radie got serious. “Okay, so you’re trying to dock with the Falcon - I won’t ask why - and not go so fast you crash or so slow you’re easy to shoot down?”

After Dorset’s nod, she puzzled over it for a minute.

“You could try to run a cable across the docking section and snag your landing gear on it, but that’s a lot of risk in the event it snaps. I’d go for top-to-bottom crash webbing, which they’ll probably still have on our captured Imperial ships. And you can add that to the sim easily.”

The alterations complete, Dorset started back for the sim pod but was gently bumped out of the way by Radie. “My solution means I go first,” she said drily. “Besides, you’ll need your gloves.” 

Radie was on approach by the time Dorset got back to watching the simulator run. The A-Wing drifted from side by side as it eased toward the docking station with its control thrusters. Dorset watched the speed drop, and its distance was down to 100 meters. 

“Ninety out, up a meter and a half. Still cutting speed,” Radie said on the comm. “Ok - down half a meter, 50 meters now. Lowering gear. Thirty meters, gliding in now. Ten - I gotta push my nose down a tad. Five away. Three. Contact.” 

Dorset looked at the board and saw the A-Wing resting in the netting. Hopefully that’s just due to luck and circumstance, not skill. Otherwise I may be getting replaced on this operation.

“Okay, Radie - my turn.”

The first two landings were rough, but by the sixth Dorset was gliding in smooth as a hawk-bat on the thermals - even under fire. This could almost be fun.  

“Thanks,” she said gratefully once the exercises were complete. “I can tell Commander Antilles you helped develop the landing method, if you want.”

Radie smiled but shook her head. “No need to give the whole ship my life story; it would be hard to mention the family YT-2000 without expanding into that.”

Dorset’s next mission with Polearm Squadron saw her flying normally; Polearm Squadron joined the Rogues in escorting the Falsehood from a planet in Zsinj-controlled territory. They flew on an intense schedule day after day, paired with Nova Squadron against ground targets other times.

But it exacted a heavy price on Zsinj’s operations; at least that was what they were told in their constant briefings. And despite the rapid pace, they managed to avoid losing any pilots so far.

Finally Dorset got a chance to take part in the Falsehood mission she’d practiced for weeks.

“Any last questions?” Commander Antilles asked as the mechanics were attaching her A-Wing to its bracket, with the YT-2400 apparatus waiting to go on next.

“Regarding Gara Petothel - what are my rules of engagement in the event she’s flying for Zsinj? I understand she was a Wraith, but I barely knew her. If you can’t shoot her down, I’ll do it.”

Antilles sighed. “Hopefully that isn’t necessary. If it is, your rules are fluid based on her actions at the time. I understand that’s a difficult position to be in, but it’s the most I can give you.”

Dorset forced a smile. I miss Captain Mayn’s clear orders already. “I’ll manage.”

“There is another matter - Soontir Fel. I won’t ask you to take undue risk during active combat, but if he’s in your sights and no longer a threat then I want him alive. Understand? I realize there’s talk among some pilots who would finish him off in a situation like that.”

Dorset winced, knowing Radie was certainly among that group, and nodded. The best pilot still in Imperial service - probably the best they ever had - and I’m supposed to find a way to bring him in alive? I don’t have ion cannons like General Salm did.  

Her worrisome thoughts were disrupted by a commotion at the sealed hangar doors, and she exchanged a look with Commander Antilles. They jogged over to where the guard station was and found Carmiya, Rushi, Radie, Ro’aven, and Tetengo trying to see what Dorset was up to.

“I’ve told you - this area is restricted,” the guard was saying. 

Dorset looked to Commander Antilles with an unspoken request they be allowed in, and he nodded to the guard after a moment. 

“You may be called upon to escort us back, plus Lara already knows about the operation.” The other pilots exchanged a glance; it seemed the X-Wing commander still had faith in his former pilot despite her desertion and the NRI analyst’s comments about a prosecution for treason.

“Do you think we’ll have to fight against her?” Carmiya asked.

“I don’t know,” Antilles replied, appearing very tired for a moment. Dorset hadn’t seen a look like that since meeting with General Crespin after the death of Levoc Tine in training at Folor.

“I’m willing to take the gamble that she remains loyal, but I don’t expect that from you if it becomes necessary.”

Dorset glanced among her fellow pilots. Carmiya and Tetengo looked queasy at the thought of going head-to-head with one of their own, while Rushi was harder to read. Radie and Ro’aven appeared more ambivalent; she wasn’t surprised they had little regard for apparent traitors.

“Come on - I’ll show you how the A-Wing looks nestled against this YT-1300,” Dorset told them, determined to change the subject. They moved into the previously forbidden hangar, and Linna was just as eager to point out the technicians’ handiwork at her insistence.

The A-Wing lay with its top pressed to the Falsehood’s starboard, where an escape pod would normally be. Dorset needed to climb a sideways ladder to get in, but luckily she was flexible.

Radie whistled slightly. “I understand why you were wanting help with landing there in the sims.”

Dorset nodded, her mind already moving to consider the operation that would begin within the hour. The others followed her aboard the ship, helping as she buckled in and then watching as the techs covered her with the YT-2400 shell plating. At least the A-Wing was stored nose-up.

Chapter Text

When Dorset had first enlisted, one of the freighter pilots had warned her that military service would have a lot of waiting. The escort mission to Comkin Five was really demonstrating that.

It would have been more comfortable to be waiting in the cockpit area with Commander Antilles, Donos, Chewbacca and their droid. It certainly would have been more amusing, considering they’d dressed the 3PO unit in General Solo’s uniform and a mask to fool any close attackers.

Of course, there’s no way Solo would be caught dead flying the real Falcon in an actual uniform, Dorset thought with a smile. The YT-1300 still retained its front nacelles, part of the effort to not make the YT-2400 disguise too convincing. 

She keyed her comlink on and heard some unintelligible grumbling from Chewbacca, clearly an argument with the 3PO. Squeaky was bragging about his finesse at strapping in, and Dorset sighed. Buddy, you’re not the one in a fighter hanging straight up. At least you get to be level.

Dorset wondered idly why Donos had been assigned to turret duty instead of flying - probably a consequence of how the Petothel situation had unfolded. She just hoped he wouldn’t lose sight of who was friend and foe when it came to her A-Wing. 

Fifteen minutes later, and Commander Antilles was coolly discussing whether the lack of landing clearance meant their cover had been blown. Then again, the whole point of the day’s mission was for that to happen. That’s what the expensive holocomm unit was for, she’d been assured.

Sure enough, Antilles soon warned that there were TIEs incoming from the planet. They turned back toward space and ran as Dorset powered systems. No more waiting - not much, anyway.

The two Wraiths left the cockpit section to head for the gun turrets, and Dorset slid out of her fighter to take a peek outside while it was warming up. She popped her head and arm over the top of the ladder at the top turret, watching Comkin shrink away behind them.

“Forgetting something, Flight Officer?” Antilles asked without turning around in his swivel seat.

“Sorry, sir. Ran out of sticks of gum and it’s good to have during a dogfight.” 

The commander sighed, then tossed a pack over his shoulder. She set a few credits down - in case she didn’t get a chance later - and grabbed it, then scurried down the ladder and back to the one used for the A-Wing. I must look like a damn monkey-lizard, Dorset thought as she used the sideways ladder to enter her A-Wing again before pulling the canopy shut with a lever.

After an update from Squeaky, Antilles said they would have 90 seconds of enemy fire before Wraith reinforcements arrived. But Zsinj’s forces were bringing in more support of their own.

Two squadrons and an old dreadnaught, great. Almost time to detach package one - the shell - and package two - me. Dorset’s scanner was online now, though limited by the hull around her, and showed four TIE Interceptors rapidly inbound. She quickly unwrapped the first stick of gum.

“Millennium Falcon, this is the former Wraith Two. Prepare to die.”

Dorset’s skin shivered at the venomous words intruding on their comm channel. Alright, Lara, you kriffing snake - you’re making the decision whether to shoot very easy. But something felt off about the message. She didn’t have time to think further as the freighter took fire and shook.

“I believe I address General Solo. You can spare the lives of your crew by surrendering now.”

Kriffing stars above, they’ve brought out Petothel and Fel. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Dorset’s mind flashed back to her conversations with Antilles about the pair, and she hoped he stayed focused. Come on, let me launch already and get in the fight. The Falsehood was taking more fire now, with the dreadnaught blocking its path to freedom. Sixty seconds to release.

The Falsehood was spinning now, and Dorset cursed again as the A-Wing shook in its brackets. She was a pilot; her job was to fight and there was a full pack of TIE Interceptors out there. But for now Dorset was along for the ride, and she hated the feeling.

Finally the spinning stopped, and Dorset had a view of the battle as the Falsehood detached its shell and jerked hard to port. About kriffing time, she thought as the confused squints shot past. 

The shell’s gray interior she’d been staring at was drifting away now, giving her a full view of the dark space around them. Green lasers illuminated it as a new pair of TIEs strafed the freighter.

Now the 3PO droid, speaking in his General Solo voice, was giving her clearance to break off. She flipped a repurposed switch that set off the explosive bolts, lifting on residual momentum before Dorset activated the engines and rocketed away. The thrust pushed her back in the seat, and she grinned wide enough to challenge Linna’s smile as one of the squints tried to keep up.

The main group of TIEs were setting up ahead of the Falsehood’s escape route, in an attempt to drive it back toward the dreadnaught or Comkin. Oh no you don’t, Dorset thought as she moved behind them. Dropping power, she engaged her reaction control thrusters and slid sideways in a line, firing the whole time. Two squints were destroyed in the gauntlet she’d created, and the Falsehood had angled away from them - even though that brought it closer to the dreadnaught.

A flash of light caught Dorset’s eye from behind, as the detached shell hit the dreadnaught’s shield and exploded. The ship was burning by the time she got a clear view, and Dorset felt decidedly queasy at the thought of how she’d been surrounded by that many explosives all along. The Wraiths were inbound, though, and she forced herself to relax. 

Dorset shifted back around to engage the mass of TIEs, her shots helping herd them together, then broke away as the seven X-Wings of Wraith Squadron fired a salvo of torpedoes. Loran was ordering his pilots to go after the TIEs by pairs as well now, and Dorset was satisfied to see Kell and Runt headed past to guard the Falsehood. She picked off another pair, then watched as they turned tail and ran back for Comkin themselves. 

We should hunt the 181st down while we’ve got a chance like this, Dorset thought in annoyance as the imitation General Solo ordered her to dock with the YT-1300 again. But orders are orders. At least I’m not trying to land under fire like the sims again.

She extended one last glare at a tiny TIE Interceptor, drifting and damaged, near the wreck of the dreadnaught - then acknowledged the droid’s praise of her shooting and gently re-docked.

But something about the fight still seemed off, and Dorset checked her flight recorder afterward.

“Millennium Falcon, this is the former Wraith Two. Prepare to die,” Lara - no, Petothel - had told them. 

Wait - Falcon?

Commander Antilles had been busy, first in reviewing files alone and then holding a debriefing with Lieutenants Donos and Loran, Shalla Nelprin and General Solo. So Dorset found herself relaying the suspicion that had nagged her since the TIE Interceptors’ attack to the NRI agent.

“When I first heard La- Petothel, she sounded ready to kill us all - and said as much. But she called us the ‘Millennium Falcon.’ From what I understand of the Wraiths’ mission planning, she would have known we were flying a different ship in disguise. She certainly would have known General Solo wasn’t the one flying. I think she was trying to preserve our cover, even though that cost the warlord’s fleet today.”

The blonde woman rubbed her chin pensively. “Thank you, we’ll take that into consideration.”

Dorset nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed that her big realization was being brushed aside so quickly. The analyst on the holocomm noticed and offered a light smile.

“I can’t discuss it with you, but I just received a secure message before your call with details that are in line with what you said,” she told Dorset. 

“Do you think she’s trying to resist her training and help us? I’ve heard stories about how hard it is to do that once Imperial Intelligence, ISB or COMPNOR get their claws in someone.”

The woman froze at that, her face racked with pain, and Dorset cursed herself for apparently touching a nerve. Then the analyst smoothed her expression. “Sorry, I can’t answer that. Just see what Wedge says about it as far as any future rules of engagement, all right?”

Dorset nodded, even though she was confused. Intel work is definitely not for me. Maybe in some other life, but not this one.  

Being a pilot was so much simpler - fly fast, shoot straight, keep yourself and your wingmate alive, wait for the next orders. Dorset shook her head, dispelling any remaining questions on whether Petothel was still an enemy, and went to find the Polearms’ latest round of sabacc.

“How’d it go?” Radie asked when Dorset slouched into an open seat - Linna was leaving with the Nova pilot from the night of Antilles’ mutiny. Only Radie, Carmiya, and Varyl were playing.

“I honestly don’t know. We made it back and the Falsehood didn’t blow up, so that’s a win. Can you deal me in already?”

Chapter Text

“Polearms, gather round!” Captain Mayn ordered. “Don’t ask how, but the Wraiths did their usual trickery and have lured Zsinj to Vahaba. This is our best shot, and we plan to make it Iron Fist’s last engagement. General Solo has a skifter, Contact M-317, but your orders are to disregard it. The system has a large asteroid belt and 26 planets, so there’s a lot of places Zsinj could hide. The X-Wings are tracking him down and will bring in Mon Remonda shortly.”

Dorset scowled, but had to acknowledge the multirole fighter was better for reconnaissance than her beloved A-Wing. Interceptors carried less fuel, and they burned it much faster than X-Wings.

“Shame we don’t have any of the old long-range fighters,” Radie muttered from Dorset’s left. She’d heard stories of how they could loiter for days over a target with two pilots, and wasn’t surprised the Corellian had as well given her parents’ smuggling background. CorSec probably still uses some surplus models, Dorset thought. Too bad Horn didn’t bring one over instead.

Captain Mayn looked at them solemnly and continued. 

“Once we have a location on Zsinj’s fleet, prepare for a fight to the death. Most of you were at Ession and Kuat” - their gaze shifted to Linna, though she had plenty of experience from Ace Squadron - “and you all went through the hell at Jussafet. We’ve lost friends, and odds are not everyone will come back from Vahaba. Be careful, and trust your wingmates. That’s how we have the best chance to get through the day. It’s been an honor to command each of you.”

Mayn called them to attention, and this time she saluted them first. Then they all prepared to launch.

Dorset smiled slightly, watching as Tetengo and Rushi exchanged quick encouraging words. She didn’t begrudge them taking the moment for each other, but thought back to when their current flight assignments were revealed.

“If I can’t fly with Rushi any more, I’m glad my first wingmate has her back,” 'Tengo had told her. It was the highest form of trust pilots could share, and Dorset planned to live up to it at all costs.

A wave from Carmiya Rendon brought her out of the memory, and she nodded to the younger pilot. “Good luck out there,” Dorset said absent-mindedly. Carmiya and Elana Donnall would be flying with Captain Mayn in First Flight, as Cran Temarch was now commanding Second Flight. Linna was his wingmate, with Dorset and Rushi as Seven and Eight. Third Flight, still led by Tetengo, included Varyl Vellis as Polearm Ten and Radie and Ro’aven as Eleven and Twelve.

Carmiya stepped closer, and Dorset could tell she was fretting over the battle. 

“Dorset, I’m scared,” the Eriadu native - still just shy of her 18th life day - said quietly.

“I know,” she answered with a reassuring smile. “We all are, I expect even Antilles and Janson get the jitters about going head-to-head with Fel. Skywalker would too. Just remember this - we have shields, they don’t, and we fly the best fighters in the galaxy. And ’Miya - may the Force be with you.”

That brought a smile to Carmiya’s face, and they all climbed into their interceptors as the launch klaxon sounded. Dorset nodded to Radie, saw her do the same to Ro’aven. Then they were off.

Commander Antilles led the full starfighter group, 24 squadrons strong, in a sweeping move by two of their Star Destroyers, the mystery Contact M-317, and the pair of enemy ISDs headed to attack them. Iron Fist was the target; they received the order to arm weapons. Here we go.

The Super Star Destroyer opened fire, as it had at the battle near Kuat, and dozens of green lasers shot out toward their wide formation. “Make a trench,” Antilles instructed, and they fell into a line with the X-Wings in front. Dorset thought of Lasko’s death again and was willing to not take lead for a change. They passed low over the massive ship’s stern, firing as they did, and weaved in all directions to avoid the steady barrage. The green blasts were so thick she couldn’t see the black space behind them - but then the group was past the gauntlet.

The first run complete, the squadrons separated and began strafing runs of their own rather than continuing to target Iron Fist’s center line. The heaviest damage was being inflicted by B-Wing squadrons Nova, Blade, and Lancer, but Dorset could see X-Wings from Corsair, High Flight, Corona, Typhoon, and Flare squadrons as well. The Rogues and Wraiths were engaged in attack runs of their own, of course, and General Crespin was leading Y-Wing nuggets again.

Polearm Squadron had taken top cover, but when it became clear that Zsinj’s goal was to escape rather than launch fighters they dove into the fray as well. Dorset followed Cran and Linna in, smiling as she saw parts of Iron Fist already burning or opened to space.

“Once we get through this turret fire, we’re going for their engines,” Linna was telling her and Rushi as they dove. She and Cran were flying 200 meters ahead, rolling over as the blasts started to become more precise.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Dorset started to say before an ion blast swept across one of the lead A-Wings, freezing it in place for a split second of crackling energy - and then a turbolaser shot eclipsed the interceptor entirely. 

“Who was that?” Elana was yelling desperately from First Flight. “Come in, Cran. Please.”

“I’m so sorry,” Linna said a moment later. She broke off, planning to regroup and resume their attack, but the three Mon Calamari cruisers were now peppering Iron Fist’s stern instead. Then the massive vessel was gone in a streak of light.

Stars. We just lost Cran, and barely got any blows in. What a kriffing waste.

Captain Mayn and Carmiya were leading a despondent Elana away as the other pilots landed, and they occupied themselves with post-combat checks until the trio reached a private area. 

Rushi and Tetengo were quick to embrace after that, and Dorset saw Radie giving Ro’aven a relieved clap on the shoulder as well. They’d fought a Super Star Destroyer twice now, and each time had been lucky to come away with only one casualty. 

Even Linna, normally upbeat, only gave Dorset a tired nod. At least she didn’t have as long to get to know her wingmate, being a replacement we picked up back on Coruscant.

“We’ll get another chance at Iron Fist eventually, and then we can get revenge for Cran, Nuro, and Lasko,” Dorset told Linna encouragingly. “There was nothing you could have done there; Elana will see that too.”

Linna nodded again, stretching her right arm. “I know the drill - I may be new here but I’ve still been fighting longer than the rest of you, after all.” She forced a wide smile to lighten her words.

Dorset sighed and sat down, leaning back against her fighter. “Of course - I just forget that some times. It’s so distracting after the battles.”

“Believe me, I know.” Linna sat alongside her, and the others joined not long after. 

“You think whatever the Wraiths did to trap Zsinj will work again?” Rushi asked.

“I doubt it,” Varyl replied. “I’m more interested in M-317 and if we’ll be able to use it again.”

“We probably won’t be able to finish Zsinj off without more substantial support, like if Organa can get the Hapans to lend their warships,” Radie said mournfully. “The current fleet doesn’t have enough firepower to finish the job before the bastards run.”

They sat in silence for another 20 seconds. Then Captain Mayn came running into the room, pulling her helmet on. 

“Everybody, get back to your fighters! We got a new location on Iron Fist and it’s vulnerable. This may just be our second chance of the day. I’ll brief you once we’ve readied systems.”

They jumped to their feet. Dorset saw Carmiya running back in as well, with Elana a half step behind her. The Anoat pilot’s eyes were red, but her face was set in a determined expression.

“I’m going back out,” she told Captain Mayn.

“Polearms, we’ll be going in with Elana and Carmiya in First Flight; Linna, Dorset and Rushi in Second; and Tetengo, Varyl, Radie and Ro’aven in Third. Zsinj is stuck at Selaggis and will be hiding again. It has a gas giant with another wide asteroid belt like we saw at Vahaba; that’s the most likely spot to find him. We may even have to fight inside the planet’s atmosphere.”

The technicians were hurriedly working to refuel their fighters; fortunately they hadn’t been able to expend much ordnance at Vahaba that would need replenished as well. Remonda dropped out of hyperspace, and now the techs disconnected lines and hastily sealed off valves.

We’ll have to fight with what we’ve got, and hope it’s enough.

Chapter Text

Selaggis Six lay before them, and would have looked like a yellow and orange marble - except the lines swirling across it were in constant flux. Dorset could tell the individual storm clouds were bigger than any capital ship could ever dream of being.

“It almost looks like Bespin,” Elana Donnall told the group, her voice still a bit hoarse. “You could easily hide a Super Star Destroyer in there. Everyone, be careful.”

Mon Remonda had detected Zsinj’s forces running for the shelter Selaggis Six could provide as soon as it arrived on station. The grainy holo image passed to their fighters included two ISDs, a Lancer frigate and a Quasar light carrier. But there had been no sign of Iron Fist yet.

Polearm Squadron was attached to Commander Antilles’ group again, though this time he was only leading six squadrons rather than the full 24. Their job was to find Fist and hopefully live to report its position back.

“Sensor contact!” Tetengo called out from his position to Dorset’s right. “They’re launching TIEs, I make nine squadrons. Looks like Eyeballs and Squints - vectoring around us to attack Mon Remonda and the rest of the fleet. ”

“Roger that - Polearms, let them pass. General Solo has other fighters to rely on, it’s not our job this time. Keep your eyes open for any sign of Iron Fist.”

“Eleven - recommend you rotate like I am for a better view,” Tetengo told Radie as he inverted his A-Wing.

“Copy that,” she replied a few moments later, sounding chagrined by her distraction before she rolled the interceptor to match. They were past the visible group from the Warlord’s fleet now and beginning their search for Iron Fist.

“First and Second Flight, follow me toward the asteroid belt. Third Flight, check out the gas giant itself and break by pairs,” Captain Mayn ordered. “And when we engage, new comm protocols - I don’t want any casualty reports being broadcast squad-wide, ok? It’s too much of a drain on morale. Hopefully it isn’t necessary, but we’ll save that for after landing. Good luck, and fly well.”

Dorset, once again filling the role of Second Flight leader due to her predecessor’s death, gave acknowledgement and dove in behind the captain. They broke away at the exterior rim of debris and looked for any sign of the 19-klick vessel. The promised three-day pass didn’t interest them; they just wanted to settle the search and destroy mission that had dragged on for months. The week-long leave on Coruscant had been their only time off ship since Folor.

They’d all had their own reasons for enlisting, but everyone who’d come from Blue and Gold squadrons at Folor had thought the war was nearly over when they did. They hadn’t expected that Zsinj would rise up and replace Isard as such a formidable enemy to the New Republic, or that his forces would attack their training center. They hadn’t expected to lose so many so soon.

When Captain Mayn reported that she’d found Iron Fist instead, a cheer went out on the comm channel. It was time to settle accounts - for Cran, Lasko, and Nuro; all the way back to Gir, Dav, and Grivko. They’d missed their shot at Vahaba. They would not fail here.

Commander Antilles had the six squadrons form up, trailing Iron Fist’s position as its turbolasers worked to clear a path through the asteroid belt. They would move in to attack by passing from one asteroid to another where the debris was limited; the main section gave Zsinj extra shields.

They moved starboard and down toward the Super Star Destroyer, keeping shields on full as tiny bits of debris hit them. The A-Wings were at the highest risk, given their fast speed and small size. Finally they were a klick away from their target, with no serious damage to anyone.

Squadrons reported in, and then Antilles gave the word they had been waiting for: “Begin your assault runs.”

The A-Wings would be first in, working to pick off the turbolaser turrets. That would clear a path for the other snubfighters and limit Iron Fist’s ability to take out asteroids- 

“Break off, break off! It’s an ambush!”

Dorset was surprised to hear Myn’s voice this time, rather than Tyria and her force precognition, and now he was more calmly asking Antilles to abort the attack. The order to break away was given a moment later, just as the Fist’s rear guns opened up on the asteroid field.

The rocks were blowing up all around them, reminding Dorset of Implacable’s overhead assault at Folor. She cursed as one three hundred meters to port took a direct hit, sending chunks that peppered against her shields - and then one broke through, slamming into her engine. Dorset’s A-Wing shook violently, and even after she got it back under control it flew at an angle. Kriff!

Captain Mayn ordered the unit to regroup behind an asteroid and for them to report status. Two X-Wings were down, with one pilot dead and the other’s fighter too damaged to continue.

“It’s a little wobbly after I got hit by a bit of asteroid but I’m good,” Dorset said. It was barely true; her fighter was shaking back and forth even with the left engine reduced to 50 percent.

“Leader to Seven,” Mayn told her after a moment. “I can see how mangled your stabilizer is, don’t give me that. You won’t last 60 seconds once this gets going, your engine’s liable to blow. Rushi, escort her back around the TIEs attacking Mon Remonda. Linna, fall in with First Flight until she returns. Third Flight, move in to engage Iron Fist. We’ll be on your station shortly.”

Dorset switched to a private channel. “Captain, I can still fight-”

“Save it. Go back now, and you can probably get the engine swapped to keep fighting.”

Dorset hissed a string of curses under her breath, then keyed her comm on. “Roger, returning.”

She and Rushi veered away, leaving the battle before it began in earnest. Dorset felt a burning shame, but orders were orders.

“You’ll be back out there in no time,” Rushi told her reassuringly. “We’ll have to divert around Mon Remonda though, there’s a lot of enemy TIEs attacking it.”

Dorset closed her eyes, furious that she was having to meander around a battle rather than being useful. “Ok, roger that. Let’s come in at fifty degrees, swing by Ession Strike and land in Remonda’s port hangar bay.”

 That course was meant to evade the TIE formation - and it would have worked if the enemy fighters hadn’t broken into retreat. Instead, the two A-Wing pilots found themselves facing a  massive cluster of eyeballs and squints. In particular, a half squadron dove to meet them.

“Dorset, push through and land. I’ll cover you,” Rushi said.

“No way,” Dorset snapped, shutting down the damaged engine. It would cost her speed, but reacquiring stability was worth that. “We can handle three to one odds, I’m not leaving you.”

Rushi offered a grateful affirmative, then called for Dorset to break formation - the six TIE Interceptors bearing down on them had been modified with concussion missile launchers.

They rose to meet the squints from opposing angles, and managed to each pick off the outer TIE on their side of the formation. Two on one now, that’s not so bad. Dorset thought even as one of the squints dropped on her tail and started aiming for the damaged engine.

“Rushi, I got one on me. Can you swing by and clear him out?”

“On my way; just vaped their third one. Approach at two-seven-eight and prepare to dive down - we’re doing an Antilles Weave.”

Dorset moved to the new heading and smiled slightly, even as the TIE kept peppering her. She was flying right at Rushi; the maneuver - developed at the Battle of Yavin - would have Dorset’s A-Wing duck out of the way at the last possible second, giving her pursuer a faceful of Rushi’s lasers. In spite of all the failures they had encountered so far that day, this went perfectly.

Rushi’s A-Wing dipped its wings as it flew through the expanding fireball that had been the TIE chasing Dorset.

“That’s four down - you can go land now,” Rushi told her. “Looks like the rest turned back.”

Dorset sighed and reached for the comm to acknowledge the repeated request.

“Sithspawn! These other two just dropped in behind me out of nowhere!”

 Dorset felt a chill at the panic in Rushi’s voice. A quick check of the sensors showed she was 14 klicks away.

“I’ll be there in 10 seconds - just hang on,” Dorset answered, swinging her A-Wing around and pushing the working right engine to full power. A few switches brought the targeting computer back on now, and she quickly began angling for a lock on the two TIE Interceptors without putting her wingmate in the line of fire as well. “Rushi, break right on my signal - copy? Now!”

Rushi did as instructed, swinging out, and Dorset had a clear shot for a split second. She held the trigger down, focusing on the right-side squint, and was relieved to see it exploding in a ball of flame. But the other TIE had quickly readjusted and was back pursuing Rushi, pouring lasers into her A-Wing’s tail. “I’m losing rear shields fast!” she yelled out to Dorset.

“Dive in three seconds - he’ll be expecting you to go left,” Dorset replied, the moments ticking by as her heart pounded. One … two … “Now!” Rushi’s A-Wing nosed over and accelerated. 

Dorset made sure she had a lock and squeezed off two bursts, watching the lasers tear into the TIE’s left engine and wing array. The squint exploded a half-second later - but two missiles cleared the blast, their exhaust jets red against the darkness. They would hit in four seconds.

“Punch out, punch out now!” Dorset screamed. “Kriffing get clear!”

The missiles slammed into the A-Wing, one after another, and detonated.

“Ru… Rushi? Rushi!”

It was part confusion, part desperate hope.

But there had been no ejection.

“No!” Dorset’s first cry was short, driven by shock. The second was longer, filled with anguish.

She blinked back tears, then switched to the private channel as Mayn had directed. “Seven to Leader, Rushi’s… we lost her.” 

“Dorset, you did all you could there. Return to Mon Remonda now, we can’t afford to lose your A-Wing too,” Captain Mayn was ordering. Dorset squeezed her eyes shut, felt more tears well up already. “Copy, Leader. Seven returning.” Her voice was ragged and almost unrecognizable. 

Dorset brought back the direct channel with Mayn and cleared her throat. “Leader, Seven here. When Nine… kriff it all, when Tetengo returns I should be the one to tell him. My responsibility.”

“Understood, Dorset. You just focus on setting down now. We’ll take it from here.”

She did as instructed, and only once the engines had powered down and mechanics began to pull the disabled one from its housing did Dorset start to think of what she would have to say. 

She’d been friends with both of them since the day she arrived on Folor and they’d all already gone through so much - training, the losses in the retreat, the battle near Kuat. Tetengo had told her how he planned to propose to Rushi once the fight against Zsinj was over and showed her the family ring he’d gotten delivered by courier - at the cost of a month’s pay - from Churba. 

The two would probably have left the squadron to raise a family there through adoption. Dorset had jokingly asked Tetengo whether naval tradition would allow them to hold the wedding on the burned-out husk of Iron Fist once the New Republic Fleet had blasted it to pieces.

Now all of that was over, because she for once couldn’t be fast enough. She knew deep down that he would forgive her. Dorset was less sure whether she would ever forgive herself.

Her eyes stung again, and Dorset yanked the canopy free before jumping down to the deck without a ladder. The landing hurt her knees, but she no longer cared. 

“Why the kriff are you stopped?” she asked the mechanics angrily - they were standing nearby, watching the battle with binocs rather than working on her fighter. “I have to get back out there!”

“There’s something strange going on,” a mechanic said by way of explanation as he handed her a pair of macrobinoculars and pointed to the pitch-black rectangle ahead of them. “Almost all of Polearm went over to check that out, there’s not much more you’d do. TIEs are in full retreat.”

Still disgruntled, Dorset grabbed the binocs and got a better look herself - all she could see were streaks of light, each one a snubfighter, entering the rectangle and vanishing. “What the kriff?”

Her A-Wing’s comm system - still active - suddenly began emitting a burst of static, and Dorset turned to listen. “Arm ine … odd … here.” That’s Tetengo’s voice, I’m sure of it. 

“What’d that say?” she asked the nearest mechanic, but he didn’t know. More static now.

“Come… ist… port up …” Dorset ground her teeth in frustration; nothing was understandable. Suddenly she heard yells of shock and dismay from the hangar personnel and whipped around. 

Through the binocs’ viewfinder, she watched a kilometers-wide fireball emerge from within the mysteriously dark rectangle and then fill it with blinding light, sending debris out in all directions.

Dorset didn’t feel the binocs slip from her hands to the floor and break into pieces; didn’t realize she had fallen against the A-Wing as her legs gave out.

She didn’t even hear her own screams at first.

Chapter Text

Dorset regained her composure as Radie was pulling her up into a close embrace, squeezing tight enough that it made her ribs ache. The pain helped ground her, though; made her focus.

“I thought I’d lost the entire squadron,” Dorset choked out. “Did anyone else make it out?”

“I don’t know yet,” Radie answered. “Captain Mayn had been hanging back to try and relay any communications to Mon Remonda, but the others … they were close to whatever happened. The rest of Third Flight had gone in, and so had Elana and Carmiya. Linna too.”

Her eyes glimmered and she brushed at the right one quickly. 

“Ro’aven’s dead,” Radie continued, her voice wavering. “She took out a modified squint at close range and got caught in the blast. They had to have armed concussion missiles just beforehand. If the explosion hadn’t ripped off one of my cannons, I probably would’ve still been out there.”

Dorset pulled the Corellian woman in closer and squeezed her shoulder. “I know how much she meant to you. We lost Rushi too, and I heard Tetengo over the comm just before the blast.”

Radie reached down to retrieve Dorset’s cloth helmet and put it back on the shorter pilot’s head, cinching the chin strap in place and brushing a few of her stray tears away this time. 

“Can you fly? I came back to re-arm, so I’ll need a wingmate out there in case there’s still TIEs.”

Dorset nodded shakily. “I can do that.” Radie’s mouth curved down in concern, and she took a step back before slugging her new wingmate in her shoulder with a punch. Dorset jumped back, hands springing up, and the other Polearm Squadron pilot nodded with a grim satisfaction.

“Sorry about that, but I had to make sure you weren’t too exhausted for this,” Radie said. Dorset nodded, rubbing her sore shoulder briefly.  

Every available snubfighter, freighter and shuttle began to lift out of the hangar and speed toward the explosion, believed to be Iron Fist’s destruction. Dorset didn’t care that her A-Wing still only had one engine; she was going back out there. Any survivors who ejected would be limited to about four hours of breathable oxygen, maximum. Each minute and every ship used would count.

The sheer amount of debris meant any pilots - alive or dead - would have to be located visually, and so the New Republic fleet began a massive grid search. The Rogues and Wraiths still flying had been recalled from Selaggis Six’s moon to participate, and General Solo even took off in the Millennium Falsehood to lead the recovery effort personally.

Dorset pushed auxiliary power into boosting her comms, then selected the full-frequency option. “Polearms, this is Seven - we won’t leave you behind! If you can hear me, sound off or activate your distress signal.” She called out their names next, one by one, and then the other squads.

At two hours in, they’d found the remains of Varyl Vellis’ A-Wing. It had taken a direct strike from a turbolaser, and all that was left were charred pieces of the wings. Another 25 minutes, and a U-Wing reported it had an ejected pilot in sight. Dorset and Radie raced to it and saw a blonde pilot hanging limply in the harness. A chunk of debris had hit the bottom of the seat and left her left leg mangled. What remained of the A-Wing had been drifting alongside the wrecks of two TIEs, where they had all been locked in combat at the moment before the explosion.

“We’ve got a positive ID - Linna Irarch,” the U-Wing pilot told them. “She’s unconscious but still alive. We’re headed back to Mon Remonda.”

One of the B-Wing pilots reported finding a wingmate minutes later, and Dorset felt bitter as she heard Nova Squadron cheering. Tetengo’s running out of time here.

Three hours, forty minutes since detonation. They’d scoured every meter of Iron Fist’s wreckage and come up with nothing but the bodies of other squadrons’ pilots. Or what was left of bodies.

“I’ve got something - looks like part of another A-Wing,” a Lambda shuttle pilot called out. “Pulling it in now - we’re going to have to go straight to Warder.”

“Do you know who it is?” Dorset asked frantically.

“Unclear, Polearm Seven. Stand by.”

“Just describe them to me then! I can tell you who it is from that.” Kriff’s sake. Please be Tengo, just tell me he’s all right.

“It’s… not that easy, Seven.” Dorset could hear a buzzsaw in the background; they were having to cut the A-Wing apart. Stars above.

Finally, an answer. “We’ve got a faint lifesign - the pilot is female. Looks like she has brown hair.”

Elana, then.  

Dorset was glad to have another friend pulled out of there, but there was still no sign of Tetengo.

We’re running out of time. She slammed her fist against the side of the canopy in frustration.

When the chrono reached five hours, Dorset took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Tetengo would be dead by now - assuming he’d survived the Iron Fist’s explosion at all.

Looks like I failed them both. Carmiya too.

“Dorset, you should really get some rest,” Radie told her. “Let fresh pilots take up the search.”

“No. I’m going to find Tengo. We can’t leave him out there.”

Tetengo had told her how the Imps wouldn’t let his family bury their oldest son, Timan, after he died fighting the Empire. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Okay,” Radie said tiredly. “I’ll head back and check on Linna and Elana, then let you know how they’re doing.”

Thirty minutes later, Radie was back on the comm channel.

“Dors, I’ve got Linna with me. She’s awake but doesn’t remember much of the battle.”

“Low oxygen will do that,” the Naboo pilot said weakly. “Medics said I should be able to fly again, once I get used to a prosthetic leg.”

“That’s the spirit,” Radie told her. “You get some sleep now, okay?”

A moment after that and Radie returned to the comm alone, her voice low. “Elana’s in really bad shape. She broke her pelvis and left arm, fractured her spine. Took lung damage from when the A-Wing caught fire too. Surgeons are checking her other internal organs now; I don’t know.”

“Is she awake?”

“No, they had to keep her under. If that changes, I’ll let you know right away.”

By 10 hours of searching, Dorset was having trouble remembering if she’d already gone over her latest grid square or not. She blearily rubbed at her eyes and wished she had music to keep her alert, like that pilot from Nova.

“Dorset - you still out there?” Captain Mayn asked. It was clear from her refreshed voice that she’d taken a quick nap, and for a split second Dorset hated her seeming lack of concern.

“That’s affirmative. Tetengo and Carmiya have to be somewhere close by, I can feel it.”

“So I’ll take your station. You know the rules, you’re past the maximum continual flight time already. Land, and you can either get some sleep or link up with one of the U-Wing crews.”

Dorset sighed, then turned around for a wobbly landing back in Mon Remonda’s port hangar. Captain Mayn has a point, I guess. I just need some caf. Dorset slid down the side of her A-Wing and ducked into the closest mess hall, filling a bottle she could take on the U-Wing. Then she drank as much caf as her empty stomach could take and grabbed a vacuum suit.

Two hours later, and Mayn had another message for Dorset. “Tell the pilot to bring your U-Wing in at one-one-three, drop two klicks. And get your vac suit on.”

“Polearm Seven copies,” she answered flatly. After checking her suit again, Dorset clambered out of the transport and pulled herself along its hull until she’d reached what was left of the charred A-Wing the captain had found. 

The snubfighter was rolling slightly, covered in scorch marks from tail to the base of the canopy. Its insides were obscured with soot, and Dorset was glad for that at least. The front section was relatively unscarred, and she could make out a blue square containing a white triangle on the nose. It was the marking that she, Radie, Tetengo and Rushi had all shared on their A-Wings. 

Dorset gave Captain Mayn a grim nod as she choked back tears. She hadn’t retained any hope that Tetengo would be alive, but the confirmation was still agonizing. At least he and Rushi died without knowing they’d lost each other, Dorset thought bitterly. Zsinj will die for this - but later.

“The shockwave got him first, you know,” Mayn told her, gripping her shoulder through their vac suit and gloves. “He didn’t burn to death - it looks like his neck was snapped in an instant.”

“Mon Remonda, this is Polearm Seven,” Dorset said, her voice quiet as the technicians attached a tow cable to what was left of the A-Wing so it could be taken back by her shuttle. “Request… requesting you make a space on the hangar floor for recovery of Polearm Nine’s fighter. Over.”

“Seven, Mon Remonda here. Roger that.” It was Captain Onoma’s voice, Dorset thought. She’d climbed back into the shuttle and pulled the hatch closed, feeling nothing as they got underway again. She could see the A-Wing shift up and down behind them, rolling slightly on the cable.

Her comlink squawked back on again. “Polearm Seven, this is Wraith Five and Six. We’ll escort you back in if you want. We’re low on fuel and should return soon as it is.” Dorset didn’t answer at first - but sank down onto the shuttle’s bench with her suit’s helmet in her hands, drained.

“Seven to Wraiths,” she said finally. “Roger that. And Kell? …Thanks.” Her voice broke at the words. The two X-Wings pulled in but stayed just behind the shuttle and the stricken A-Wing, and the memory of the race at Folor it brought was what finally did Dorset in. She dropped the helmet, resting her head in her hands instead as the tears finally began to flow unchecked.

Then they landed back on Mon Remonda, and Dorset climbed out on autopilot, in a daze. 

She returned to her quarters and climbed in the refresher’s shower section, letting hot water pour over her without even removing her flight suit first. As expected, it did little to shake off the memories of the past day. She kept at it, though, until the heat began scalding her skin.

When she finally staggered back out and took off the soaked flight suit, Dorset glanced over in the mirror. She had bloodshot eyes, and her vacant gaze looked to be 1,000 meters away. The outline of her A-Wing’s seat and harness were etched into her skin; straggly matted hair clung to her scalp, neck and forehead.

Dorset didn’t bother getting dressed in something new. What was the point? Her bunkmate wasn’t ever coming back. Instead, she deactivated the lights and fell exhausted into the bed.

Mercifully, she passed out and was asleep within seconds.

Chapter Text

Dorset woke eleven hours later to a chime from her room’s door. She rolled over, pulling a shirt on and hitting the button to open it. Radie was there, as she’d expected, carrying an extra cup of caf that she set aside upon entering.

“Yesterday really happened?” Dorset asked bleakly. “They’re all gone?”

“Yes,” Radie said quietly. She sat down on the bed, and Dorset could tell there was more bad news on the horizon. “Elana died in the night too. There was a lot of brain damage on top of everything else, and she never woke up. I’m sorry. Commander Antilles is going to have an all pilots meeting in a few hours, but I can stay with you until then.”

Dorset shrugged. “I’ll get ready for it later, you can go check on Linna.” She waited until Radie had left, then curled up and pulled the sheets back over her head.

Four hours later, and Dorset had made good on her promise to attend the meeting. Radie sat next to her in the row, while Linna was floating on a hoverchair in the aisle. Captain Mayn was on Radie’s other side; together the four were all that was left of Polearm Squadron.

“We’ll start with pilot updates,” Commander Antilles began at the front of the room. “Sadly, all of the Nova and Polearm pilots missing at the site of Iron Fist’s last stand remain listed as missing in action and presumed dead.” Carmiya’s still out there somewhere, Dorset thought forlornly.

He continued on with details about the condition of his own pilot, Asyr Sei’lar, who had ejected. Lara, the onetime traitor in their ranks, had also provided details on Zsinj’s brainwashing method that caused the deaths of Nuro and the others. She’d been the source that led them to Vahaba and Selaggis, apparently. Dorset was starting to hate her for it already.

“Many commendations will be resulting from our recent actions,” Antilles continued. “We’ll get to them later. I think I first ought to let you know that Fleet Command and Starfighter Command seem to be in agreement - that you all have seen enough carrier duty for a while. Squadron transfers are in order and will be coming through in the next day or two. Rogue Squadron can expect to see some planet-based duty, at least for a while. Polearm and Nova Squadrons will be returning to Coruscant so they can be rebuilt.”

Rebuilt. As if some new recruits could mean what Rushi and Tetengo had to each other or the remaining pilots. It left a bad taste in Dorset’s mouth, even though she’d been a trainee herself only months before. They felt like years now; combat could make you old even at her age.

Antilles was going on about the status of Wraith Squadron - now an intelligence unit - and how Loran would be a captain permanently. Janson was leaving to go back to Rogue Squadron, and the pilots from all four squadrons were encouraged to join in the lounge for one last drink.

“Now, for those commendations. Flight Officer Dorset Konnair - step forward,” Antilles said. She didn’t react for a moment, until Radie elbowed her gently in the ribs. Dorset rose and walked up to the front as instructed, with the other Polearm Squadron pilots soon joining her. They each received a unit citation, as did survivors of Nova, Corsair, Shadow and High Flight squadrons. 

Dorset, Radie, and Linna were promoted from flight officer to lieutenant, while Mayn was raised to commander by her new peer Antilles. Dorset found herself going through the motions in the way a machine would - stand, salute, nod, shake hands, salute, be seated. At the start of her time on Folor, a promotion to lieutenant - delivered by Wedge Antilles - would have been the stuff of her dreams. Now it felt pointless without her friends there to see it and take part.

The arrival at Coruscant was another painful memory, since her last time there had been on R&R with the other pilots. There had been 10 of them in Blue Squadron during their Folor training; now it was just her and Radie. Linna was still a friend, of course, but she wasn’t an original Blue - and Dorset feared she would be sent back to Ace Squadron after recovering.

Commander Antilles held another pilot briefing once they were in orbit and an initial alert over the Hapan fleet’s presence had been resolved. He let them know the celebratory parade from Fleet Command headquarters to the Grand Reception Hall - in honor of both their victory at Selaggis and the Hapans’ arrival - was strictly optional.

A quick look at Radie and Linna’s faces showed they wanted as little to do with that as Dorset did. Commander Mayn would have to represent them; those were the burdens of rank. They slipped away from Mon Remonda in a Lambda shuttle to the medical center, where Linna was being fitted with a prosthetic leg. From there, Dorset and Radie headed for civilian transports.

“Just say the word and I’ll go with you,” Radie told her. “My trip can wait.”

“Thanks, but this is on me,” Dorset answered. She was bound for Churba and Tetengo’s family, while Radie would go to Ryloth and bury Ro’aven’s kalikori in the absence of direct relatives to notify or a body that had been recovered. Given the condition of Tetengo’s remains, cremation had been the only option and Dorset’s bag had a secret compartment to transport the ashes.

The trip to Churba took two days in a passenger liner, and the speeder ride from the spaceport to the Noor farm in the lowlands took another 90 minutes. Dorset climbed out and trudged along the dusty ground, holding her satchel close. The ring Tetengo had planned to give Rushi hung on a cord under her shirt, and she was ready to defend it to the death if any Imps tried to take it.

Fortunately that wasn’t necessary. Dorset reached into the hidden section of her bag and fished out the New Republic wings and squadron patch. She might not have a full flight suit on, but this was going to be done in as close to uniform as possible under the circumstances. Her hands had started to shake, and she kept them balled into fists the rest of the walk there.

She raised a hand upon seeing Tetengo’s sister Tyana in the field out front of the house and received a greeting in return. “Mom, dad - one of Tengo’s friends is here!” The coppery-blonde woman ducked inside to fetch them, and Dorset took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

The parents, Harul and Synna, stepped outside moments later. Harul had been in the Churba defense forces during the Clone Wars and had graying hair. Synna’s was still blonde, though - her family had been running the liquor farm for four generations. Tetengo had told Dorset how Tyana helped transport their products for now, but had dreams of an independent shipping business.

Just get it over with.

“We’ve seen you in some of the holo-pictures Tetengo sent,” Synna was saying. Harul looked at her more warily. Dorset nodded and mentally reviewed the holo notification that would have normally been sent to them.

“I have bad news,” she began. “Tetengo died in action three days ago, as part of an assault that eliminated Warlord Zsinj’s Super Star Destroyer Iron Fist. Rushi died in the same battle as well.”

Synna fell back slightly in shock, but Harul caught her and got Tyana to help her back inside. Dorset followed them tentatively and helped get a chair for Synna to sit down. 

“It was very quick for both of them,” Dorset said a few moments later once they were all seated. “Rushi died helping protect me, and it’s my understanding Tetengo’s last moments were spent trying to warn other pilots the Iron Fist was about to explode.” It’s mostly true, Dorset thought.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the container of ashes. “Due to the circumstances, this was the best I could do to bring them home.” Dorset unclipped the cord next and gently set the ring down on the table as well. “We should be able to send his other personal effects here soon. It’s difficult due to the continued Imperial control over this sector.”

Tyana was crying quietly, and Synna had buried her face in Harul’s shoulder. He was sitting stoically, rubbing his wife’s back and staring into the distance. Dorset felt helpless again. 

“How long can you stay? We’ll need some time to make arrangements,” Harul said finally.

Dorset blinked in surprise; she’d expected to be yelled at. Instead, they were inviting her to take part in the burial. 

“I can stay for a week,” she replied hoarsely. Tyana moved over to join her on the bench and embraced Dorset. 

“You lost him and Rushi too,” she said quietly, squeezing Dorset’s hand. “We don’t forget that.”  

The next few days were spent with Dorset sharing stories of the moments away from combat - how they bonded at Folor, the sabacc games aboard Mon Remonda, how Tetengo and Rushi had eyes only for each other when the Polearms took over the dance area in Wedge’s mutiny. She heard tales of his childhood too, and even offered a few happy ones of her own.

The burial was on the fifth day; several dozen villagers were in attendance. That brought more stories of Tetengo, and some of the ones she’d heard already. They laid his ashes - mingled with those of Rushi - in the field by the house. At dusk, three of Harul’s fellow Clone Wars veterans returned. One opened the rear of their speeder, pulling a blanket aside to show a set of five old blaster carbines. They handed them out, with Harul giving the last one to Dorset.

She checked the charge on her DC-15S and then took a place in the line, standing before the patch of ashes. At Harul’s command, they fired four shots into the dirt a meter in front of them.

Before Dorset left two days later, they made her promise to keep in touch and look after herself.

When she got off the transport back on Coruscant, the other three Polearms waited with grim expressions. Commander Mayn was in front, Radie had her arms crossed as she stood to the left, and Linna was leaning heavily on a crutch as she got used to her mechanical left leg.

“Hey, Dors. There’s something we need to tell you.” Radie swallowed, then bit her lip. “Sorry, I can’t do it. Cap?”

Mayn reached out, gripped Dorset’s shoulder. Like she did when we found Tetengo. But it can’t be more of that, there’s no one left from Polearm to have died. Unless they found Carmiya, but I know she’s dead already. Not one of the Wraiths, please. They just started with Intelligence.

“We knew Zsinj survived, but - NRI says he pulled some kind of fast one and Iron Fist is still out there too. They’re sure of it, this time. He had a new cloaking technology over his fake version.”

The news made Dorset start to feel dizzy, like her A-Wing was in a flat spin. But… I told myself that Tetengo’s sacrifice brought Iron Fist down, to end Zsinj’s reign of terror. I told his family that. But now the Raptor massacres will keep going, until a whole new batch of pilots give their lives?

Dorset felt her hands start to shake, and clenched them tight. “You mean they died for-” her voice choked over the word but she pressed on. “For nothing? For kriffing nothing!”

Her voice was rising now, and those walking by started to glance over, but Dorset didn’t care. She wrenched back a sob and nodded firmly.

“I guess I’m glad you stayed, but I’m back now - so let’s rejoin General Solo’s fleet and finish this.” Dorset broke into a brisk walk for her quarters, where her flight suit and helmet awaited.    

“Dors!” Radie called out, her voice cracking. When she turned back around, she saw the other three hadn’t moved. Radie was looking down at her feet now, but her tone had been bitter.

“We’re not going back out there - at least not yet,” Commander Mayn explained.

“Wha-why the kriff not?” The words were practically a snarl, and Radie’s head jerked back up.

“It’s a bit of a mess, and most of what we know is unconfirmed scuttlebutt. Word is General Solo took off with Princess Leia and the Hapans are involved. Right now, the Zsinj situation is outside Starfighter Command jurisdiction. We’ve asked to go, believe me, but are on stand down orders. It’s being treated as a political matter, not a military one,” Radie explained with visible dismay.

“Then we… we resign, and we go in on our own, and we kill him. Like the Rogues did to Isard.” Dorset was almost stammering now, barely keeping her composure as frustration threatened to spill over.

“Dammit, Dors!” Radie snapped, and even Linna looked at her in surprise. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do anything. There’s only four of us, and that’s not even looking at combat readiness.”

“Let’s get out of the hallway,” Mayn said quietly.

Dorset nodded, stammering a response she couldn’t finish as anger gave way to numb tears. She barely felt Radie’s hand at her back, guiding her along. 

The New Republic’s hard-won victory at Selaggis was left hollow.

And Dorset Konnair had lost any feeling that it was worth the price.