DarkStar Prologue

In the star-speckled darkness of the skies above Erebria, hung the blocky shape of the Intruder Wing shipyards. Within those shipyards was the nearly completed ship codenamed the DarkStar project. Around the ship one could see a galaxy of tiny white jets as techs in thruster-suits jetted around the outside of the hull, welding plates on, and wiring in turbo lasers, guidance systems and the various other parts critical to the operation of a large starship.

Fleet Admiral Percy, Executive Officer of the Intruder Wing strike fleet strolled down one of the few airtight corridors on the ship, his climate suit helmet tucked under his arm. Alongside him walked the Admiral known only as Darklord, whose past was lost in the distant recesses of Imperial conditioning, a necessary part of ensuring loyalty above all to the Empire.

"I still think this was a bad idea," commented Darklord, whose own ship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Majesty, was being cut back to half the usual number of squadrons and a skeleton crew in order for staff to be available for the DarkStar.

"We've been over this, DL. Everyone but you, well almost everyone, agrees that we need the extra space."

"That's not what I'm saying. I know we need more space, the amount of new recruits we have training this month is more than we've had in the last year and a half. But putting all these pilots in a whopping target like this¼? I don't like it one bit."

"Me either, but unfortunately this is what we've got. I think Dogger's beginning to think too much like the Emperor. I mean, I'm no Rebel, but I agree that bigger is most definitely not better, I mean look at the Hammer, Sovereign-class SD? Ridiculous."

"On that we agree, my friend. On that we agree."

"Look at it this way, who apart from the Hammer will take us on when we have the DarkStar operational?"

"Anyone with a functioning SSD and the desire to use it."

"We can handle any rogue warlord with a Super-class."

"Now who sounds like the Emperor? Didn't he say that he could handle a few insignificant rebels?"

"True."

They reached the end of the corridor, and secured their helmets. Checking that the airlock was functioning, they entered and began the evacuation cycle. As they began to feel a lessening of weight, each activated their magnetic boots. Thrusters were easier, but the magnetics much lessened the chance of drifting off into space. Stepping out on to the hull of the DarkStar, they took a moment to adjust to the sensation of seemingly walking down a wall. As they broached the 'edge' of the basically ovoid shape of the DarkStar, Percy noticed a glint of something stuck to the hull back near one of the ship's stubby wings. Motioning to Darklord, they moved over to investigate.

As they neared, Percy's suspicions grew. When they finally reached it, and looked down to see the slowly diminishing red LED numbers, there could be no doubt.

"It looks like somebody doesn't want us to have it in the first place."

The explosive charges were spread most of the way along the side of the ship which was completed, it was sure to rip the ship apart if it went off, and take most of the shipyards with it.

"You were Imperial Special Forces, DL, can you disarm it?"

"Been a long time, and there have been a lot of improvements since then, but I'll try."

Darklord pulled a magnodriver from his belt, and began to undo the screws holding the outer casing together. Gently lifting the edge of the casing, he shone a maglight inside.

"Motion trip. Sound trip. Lots of wires, regular fun park in there." Inserting a rivet to cover the contacts on the motion trip, the admiral removed the case entirely to reveal the inner workings of the bomb. Glancing at the timer, and seeing two minutes flash up on the display, Darklord began to work with renewed vigour. Percy's hand moved to his hip where the comm switch was located.

"Don't," advised Darklord, "There's a long-range comm trip-switch in here. You radio for help, and its goodbye DarkStar; hello oblivion."

Darkord pulled the bundle of wires out from the timer, and began to trace them.

With a mere fifteen seconds left on the clock, he was down to two wires: yellow and blue.

"Percy, what's you favourite colour?"

"Yellow, why?" Percy was looking toward the other bow of the ship.

Darklord shut his eyes tightly, and cut the yellow wire. When no explosion was forthcoming, he opened them a crack. One second remained on the timer.

The tall admiral let out a long breath.

"Done it."

Chapter 1: Standard Patrol

Graphic Created by Lt. Gen Vader

Stars, planets, galaxies flew past the MC-120 DarkStar as she shot through hyperspace. The ship shook and rumbled, slightly. The MC-120 DarkStar had been in action for over a year now. Beyond the initial ballistics, energy, and mock combat tests, just days ago it had seen its first real action. Vice Admiral Kelvin was a hard man, and he was also the proud commander of the MC-120 DarkStar, only recently appointed. And now he had proved his ship in combat, and had destroyed a large pirate fleet. The ship bristled with guns, could hold four wings of fighters and was veritable mobile base. But it had sustained minor damage; it was this minor damage that now concerned the ship’s commodore.

"Navigation, what's going on?" VA Kevin asked as the rumbling dragged him from his reverie.

"Sir, we're coming out of hyperspace." the navigation officer said. "Our Hyperdrive appears to be out of commission." The lines out of the Bridge's viewport pulled back and stretched like a thousand gossamer strands. And then the stars and the worlds once more returned to their customary places. The MC-120 DarkStar drifted against the stars, a giant leviathan out in the night. The various suns in this coordinate lit up the place with a soft rose colored glow that reflected a beautiful off her gleaming hull.

"Location?" Kelvin asked.

"We're somewhere between the Talas and the Volantis systems sir."

Kelvin nodded. They had had to travel through United Galactic Rebellion space to confront the pirate fleet. That in and of itself posed a great threat. Although the UGR and the IW had an uneasy peace treaty, the UGR didn't know, or weren't supposed to know that the DarkStar was in their system. This was a covert mission. It was no secret to him, however, that when the DarkStar project was under construction, someone or some organization had attempted to blow up the DarkStar. Percy and Darklord had managed to disarm the device, but the significance of the occasion was not lost on Kelvin. Whoever didn’t want the DarkStar into commission would go to great lengths to ensure its demise. He wasn't going to take any chances.

"Scan the area and make sure we weren't brought out of hyperspace by any interdictor-class ship." Putting a ship with enormous gravity wells near a hyperspace lane could prematurely cause a ship to exit hyperspace and completely distorted hyperspace to all ships nearby, not allowing any to re-enter hyperspace.

"Scanning now sir."

"Damage control give me a report." VA Kevin spoke calmly from his vantage point on the bridge.

"Sir!" A holo image of the engine room appeared, and the technician saluted smartly. "It's the hyperdrive. She took a direct hit in the last battle and we've only managed to jerry rig it enough to get us out of there. We didn't expect she would even get us this far."

"Can you repair it?"

"Yes sir, given the time and the necessary tools we can --"

"Can you repair it within the hour?"

"No sir. This job will take a good half day."

"Very well, get your crews on it immediately." VA Kelvin ordered.

"Yes sir." The holo image flickered and disappeared. Kelvin didn't question the ability of his crew members. They new their jobs and he new the damage was real. Although the DarkStar was a giant craft in it's right, with much greater shield power than the smaller Calamarian vessels of her type, she had taken a crippling blow to the Engines in her last encounter with the rebels.

The VA leaned forward in his chair and gently rubbed his chin. He didn't like it. A half day stuck with no reinforcements as the rest of the DarkStar's battle group continues racing to their rendezvous point. "Communications," he said quietly. "Get me WC Yatani."

A few moments later, WC Jingo Yatani stood at attention on the bridge. He was young. Only 25 years old. And his flashing grey eyes never flinched under his jet black hair. VA Kevin was pleased to have him aboard. Jingo's ability to command and pilot a starfighter had made him a natural candidate for the job.

"At ease."

"Sir, you called?" Jingo asked. Kevlin noted that although Jingo wasn't saluting he didn't look that much at ease. He looked like a panther prowling for prey. Of course Jingo usually looked like that. Something from his past no doubt. Every pilots had a history.

"Yes, get Conqueror Wing prepped and briefed on our situation. I want around the clock patrols out there. I'm sure you've read the damage report of our little encounter with the pirate fleet?"

"Yes sir. I'm familiar with our losses." Jingo Yatani stated firmly.

"Then you understand what we have?"

"Yes sir. I know what we have to work with."

"Very well, make the best of it."

The briefing room was nearly full as Jingo Yatani walked in. The entire room arose and saluted.

"At ease Gentlemen. Please take your seats." Jingo spared a small smile as he stood in front of his now seated Wing. And then he continued, his voice picked up with the pace.

"Conquer Wing is flying a standard patrol." He punched a button and the holoscreen came to life showing in remarkable detail the MC-120 DarkStar. Even on the Holoscreen there was a certain beauty about it's design. A feeling that generated in the viewer a pride in the ascendency of mankind. The power and the ability that this frail flesh could conquer the stars.

"The Commodore feels that we may be in some danger here. And I agree that caution is best. Reports say that the DarkStar's Hyperdrive was damaged in our last battle. Repairs are essential for us to catch up with our battle group. We'll be flying a just in case patrol. We will have our entire Wing out there, so Pilots don't do anything fancy. Inferno Squadron, you will have sector one, Black Squadron, you will have sector two, Wasp, sector three and Legacy, you will have sector four. Please stay in your assigned sectors, unless commanded by your Squadron Leaders. You and I both know that with this many ships out there, inter-craft collision is a grave reality." The hologram showed a multitude of blips representing their starfighters flying patrols based on standard flight paths.

"Pilots this was the good news. The bad news is that all ships used in our last battle with the Rebels took considerable damage and have been called 'unstable' in flight. Therefore--" And he paused. The power of silence.

"--you will be flying our training fighters, the standard Imperial Twin Ion Fighter." He paused again. And watched their reactions. He was glad to be met with a few mild gasps from the new recruits who from their training days new what a joy and a pleasure it was to know that one wrong move could put you six feet under, or six parsecs out as the case may be. He was also met with some tired groans from some of the more tried pilots.

"However," and he grinned. "We've managed to attach a couple of missile tubes onto the TIEs that. True, you'll be flying the paper crate machine of death, but you'll have a couple of Advanced Missiles sitting under your seat. All the more reason, not to collide with another craft out there."

He was met with a few nods. "Squadron Commanders I want you to drill this into your pilot's heads: You don't have the luxury of shields out there. You are a flying bomb if you hit. You die, your ship dies. Even if we aren't attacked, flying with this many ships in this type of patrol can become a logistical nightmare. So let's fly sharp and do this by the book."

"Now, some more good news. I'll be taking command of Black Squadron so I'll be out there with you! This is your big chance, folks. Your chance to prove that you don't live on borrowed shields. Are you are an IW ace who can fly on reflexes and adrenaline, or are you going to buy the farm?" He let that sink in.

"After all, if we are attacked those are the only two choices: Victory or Death. But I have no doubts of your abilities, Pilots. Let the rebels come. If they want some more to chew on, we'll give them the bite! Dismissed!"

Minutes later they were shot out of the hanger bays and formed up in patrol formation. Jingo Yatani, loved to feel the speed of these craft. Above all else they were the ship that gave him the biggest rush to fly. Knowing that death is only millimeters away as scathing energy bolts skim past your cockpit is a feeling one does not easily forget. Jingo spoke into his mouthpiece.

"HQ, this is WC Yatani, Conqueror Wing is in position."

"Conqueror Wing, this is VA Kevin. You're looking good out there. Follow your standard patrol."

"All right pilots, let's do this!" the twin ion engines leapt to life and propelled the craft forward toward the rose colored stars.

Fly DarkStar1.tie

Sneak Preview of Mission 1

"Attention! Commodore on the bridge!" a plump aide with a wide red face bellowed importantly. Immediately the bridge's crew snapped to attention. Even Lietenant Colonel, Jingo Yatani, Wing Commander and respected Squadron Commander of Black Squadron, stood at rigid attention, giving honor to his superior. Commodore Kevin, a tall, thin, and yet well-liked man entered. He was serious at times, given to moodieness at others, but his carreer record and experience also commanded a healthy respect from the DarkStar's crew members and his collegues alike.

"As you were." Kevin waved a lazy salute and moved toward his command station. The bridge drifted back into its usual hubub of activity. Screens and holographs churned out an endless stream of diagrams, images, and data, detailing the various information needed to run a space going vessel of this size. Kevin eyes his crew with admiration. They worked hard at what they did and worked well as a team. Like well-oiled, synchronized machinery, the bridge passed orders, results, and data along the chain of command, keeping the behemoth of a ship in working order.

"Vice Admiral, the bridge is yours." Lieutenant Colonel Yatani spoke formally, moving away from the command chair, gaving a smart salute. Jingo, only a 25 year old officer, had been in command of the bridge for the past six hours, monitoring it's activity in the absence of his superior. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had come up.

"Thank you, Commander. At ease." Kevin nodded, glancing down at his finger nails in quiet distaste, suggesting a fashion conscious manner in addition to his other qualities. "However, I'd like you to stay on with me for a few minutes before you depart."

"Of course, sir." Jingo wondered what was on his Commodore's mind. He could sense general emotions from this man. Frustration mainly. That was tinged and overshadowed with anxiety. Not really fear. Commodores didn't succeed in the Imperial navy by succumbing to such a trivial emotion. But anxiety was healthy for survival. It brought about changes to stymied thinking, producing imagination.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" Kevin gestured with one had toward the bridge's crew.

"No sir." A pause. "Except the Hyperdrive."

"Ah yes. That." Kevin spat out the word as if it were something disgusting and glared out the viewport his hands clasped hehind his back. The stars drifted lazily past the viewport, the light casting a pallid glow on his sharpe angled face. If not for the reference of those stars, the simple passenger didn't have any idea of movement at all. This of course was not the sudden lurching motion with the streak of lines that blurred into the characteristic nothingness of hyperspace.

It was natural that Kevin felt the way he did, Jingo reasoned. After all, the Intruder Wing's respected repair crews had assured the Commodore that simply time was need to make the necessary repairs that could solve the problem. All they needed was to drop out of hyperspace and take the needed time to perform the repairs. Unfortunately, it hadn't been that easy. Especially deep inside rebel territory. Although the MC-120 DarkStar had put its crews on full alert and had all of Conquer Wing's star fighters on alert and on patrols around the DarkStar, the rebels had still managed to get through and inflict light damage on the giant vessel's hull. The more significant damage wasn't as noticable. The Hyperdrive. Of course the real loss was the loss of a significant number of pilots and new recruites who were thrown into the only functioning fighter, the famous Tie Fighter, and given the proverbial baptism by fire. Jingo sighed, catching momentarily the dark mood that Kevin felt. Those were always the first to go. The green ones straight from the academy.

"I don't suspect there are any solutions for this Hyperdrive problem?" Kevin questioned, one eyebrow of his tanned face shooting up.

"No sir." When Kevin made no reply, Jingo continued, "The repair crews say that previous damages were only magnified when the Hyperdrive engine was hit again in the last battle."

"Yes. Yes." Kevin breathed impatiently. "We've seen the tapes! Accursed rebels!" The tapes had a grim sort of facination about them. They showed from hundreds of different angles, a lone Z-95 head hunter on a kamikazee course, colliding with the DarkStar's hyperdrive engine when the DarkStar momentarily lost its rear deflector shields. Only one ship had managed to slip through the constant barrage of turbo lasers. Out of a full squadron of twelve Z-95s, hellbent on colliding with the DarkStar, only one got through. And was was able to do fairly moderate damage. Of course it had been loaded to the hilt with Proton Topedoes on impact.

"Sir. If I may make a suggestion?" Jingo queried.

"Certainly. Speak your mind."

"Sir, with your permission." Jingo stepped aside, spoke softly to an aide, and immediately a holographic display of their surroundings jumped into view. "Sir. As you can see here, we are deep in rebel territory."

"Is there more to this than a geography lesson, Commander Yatani?" Kevin asked wearily, slumping in his chair, one hand briefly rubbing his forhead.

"Yes sir." Jingo spared him a brief, fleeting smile. "If you'll only give me a moment."

"Of course. Continue."

"This star system here off to our right--" Jingo paused to enlarge the view. It swang into view, complete with orbiting moons, planets, asteroid fields and even a dust cloud. "--, the Talas system contains a substantial garrison of rebel forces. At our current sublight engine speed, we'll be there in a matter of days." Jingo ignored the annoying fact that the same distance in a simple, routine hyperspace jump would have taken only fractions of fractions of a milisecond.

"If we can eliminate the defending forces, and capture the garrison, we'll be able to use any supplies they may have to bolster our own."

"And what about the root of our problem, the hyperdrive engine?" Vice Admiral Kevin asked. "Does this mad scheme to capture supplies from a well defended outpost somehow work into that plan?"

"Yes sir." Jingo continued, nonplussed." The rebel base is known to garrison nearby worlds which manufacture important supplies for various rebel shipyards. All we have to do is find the cargo with the hyperdrive engine and--"

"And the DarkStar will be back on-line" Kevin sighed appreciatively. The gloom passing as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. "However there's one flaw here."

"Yes?" Jingo questioned.

"We're bound by treaty." Kelvin said. "If we attack the UGR it'll mean full scale war."

"Sir, those were rebel ships, not some hired band that attacked us when we dropped out of hyperspace for repairs. It seems to me that the UGR are the treaty breakers." Jingo responded.

Kevlin looked out the view port and sighed then he shook his head slowly. "I don't want to do this Jingo." Kelvin said. "But I don't have any choice. I know you're right. Those were definitely rebel ships. Interrogation of the pilots determined that." He sighed deeply. "Very well, Commander. I give you full autonomy to complete these objectives, working of course within the boundaries of your own command. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir!" Jingo turned and walked toward the sliding door.

"Oh and Commander--" Kevin called out from his swiveling chair.

"Sir?" Jingo turned.

"--continue to report to me any other mad schemes you may dream up." The Vice Admiral said with a wry smile on his face.

"At ease men." Colonel Baktru stood in the briefing room of Black Squadron, idly tossing the controls to the Holoscreen in one hand. Colonel Baktru was all casualness as he began his briefing of Black Squadron. Although Lieutenant Colonel Yatani was the official Squadron Commander of Black Squadron, Colonel Baktru had been assigned more and more of the duties of command now that Jingo Yatani had been promoted to Wing Commander. Not that Colonel Baktru was any stranger to command. When he was a part of the Emperor's Hammer he had been a successful Squadron Commander in his own right.

"As you know, our hyperdrive has been completely mangled. But we have the task of getting it back on line since our repair crews enjoy sitting on their duffers!" He earned a few smiles from the other squadron members.

"The objectives of this mission are three fold: Search, Destroy, and Capture." Baktru pulled up a schematic of the surrounding area.

"We expect moderate resistance in the form of standard Alphabet Fighters." Various blips showed on the holographic map. What we need to do first is destroy their communications ability. We don't want the entire rebel fleet to get here in a matter of minutes. Our forces are going to need time to search and capture cargo containers or even to disable convoy craft."

"Wasp Squadron will be flying Y-WINGS and will be assualting the Factory, punching through its shields with Advanced Proton Torpedoes and then disabeling the factory's systems with their ion cannons. Once the factory is disabled, the P.O.D will send out ATRs filled with StormTroopers. Our army friends will clear out the enemy on this station."

"Black, Legacy and Inferno Squadrons are charged with knocking out their starfighters and destroying the sattelites." Small white blips showed up on the screen. Orbiting around the large station. "The sattelites are small and can sometimes be hard to target. But I do not doubt your capabilities."

"Now, for the good part." Baktru leaned against the wall and scratched at his recently shaved chin. "Black Squadron has moved up in the world, folks. No longer do you have to fly the paper-crate carton-o-death." Smiles mixed with a tinger of relief began to thaw the nervous faces of Black Squadron's pilots. Baktru referred to the Tie Fighter, notorious for being a fast and agile ship, but also notorious for weeding out the less skilled and the less shielded imperial pilots. Many good pilots had been lost, just a couple of weeks before when the Tie Fighters were all that the DarkStar's repair bays could churn out for its defense.

"Instead you get to fly fast paper-crate-o-death. In other words, you'll be flying the TIE Interceptor." Relief gave way to dread. Groans emitted from the group of pilots dressed in their flight suits and helmets. They had been through a shieldless combat before, and those who survived liked it less than those who didn't survive.

"I'm sorry about that, but repairs were naturally more accessible for the interceptors since shield generators and advanced plating weren't needed." More pilots began to grumble under their breath. Muttering angry syllables about red tape and lazy repair teams.

"Don't gripe or we'll throw you back in a normal Tie Fighter -- without a Heads Up Display." Baktru grinned evily at the wary but now silent faces.

"Much better. Now if there are no further questions, let's get to our ships. We have a hyperdrive to bag."

Fly DarkStar2.tie

Sneak Preview of Mission 2

Chapter 3: Asteroid Belt

"Sir, the mine layers have spent the last four hours setting up the defence grid, it's ready for your inspection."

Wing Commander Jingo Yatani nodded to a nameless orderly. "Thank you soldier. At ease. Is my shuttle ready?"

"Yes sir. Docking bay C."

"Very well. Tell them I'll be along within the hour."

"Yes sir." The man saluted and left.

Jingo Yatani strode into his quarters, threw his officer's cap into his bunk's post, and picked up a book from his oak bookshelf. It was titled Tactical Space Combat: Imperial Flight Manual. It was shallow reading. Something to put him to sleep at nights. It was one of those left overs from his days as a cadet in the Emperor's Hammer. He tossed the manual aside and sighed. This was going on too long. He sank into a chair and rubbed his temples. They were deep in New Republic territory and were trying to get out. They were closer to their goal. The recent addition of the new hyperdrive was a great boon to their survival. But once more it was a deadly game they were playing. Drifting from planet to planet at sublight speeds wasn't getting them anywhere, oh the Navigators were doing an excellent job and keeping them one step ahead. But something was up. The enemy had been dogging them all this while, but not one sortie from them since they captured the Hyperdrive. Something was up. Jingo sensed it. He often came to his room to think. He closed and locked the door behind him, and took off his black glove that always covered his left hand and flexed. His fingers on that hand were old. Old and gnarled. Like and old man's he thought bitterly. But it was a small price for power.

He let himself relax and he reached out. He let his mind drift. He could feel his immediate surroundings, his mind closed around the book he just tossed on his desk, around the bed, around the door. And then he let his mind relax even deeper and then his eyes rolled up into his head and he was simply no longer there.

At least some integral part of himself was no longer there. Immediately his conscience seemed to be walking down a long corrider. The corrider was made out of fine cut and joined stones. The mortar work was excquisite. Too fine for a human he thought. He looked at himself. Here he was different. He looked different. He wore only a simple black tunic and loose fitting leggings. His attention drifted back to the doors. The possibilities. He waited a moment and then in a moment of intuition he chose one and walked in.

The room was dark and a heavy blue mist covered the floor from the knee down. He closed his eyes and willed. The room shifted and he saw he was drifing in space. He vaguely wondered why he didn't need a space suit of some sort, but then paid it no mind. The Corrider held many secrets, and often as not, the normal laws of physics simply didn't apply.

No one around, just the stars and the galaxies. Such beauty one would seldom see from a planet's surface. But he wasn't here for beauty, he was here for answers. The rooms in the corriders held many answers if one knew how to ask the right questions. His mind flew back to the attack on the Space Factory and Weapon's Depot.

Immediately space shifted and he stood inside the factory. His advantage was that he was invisible, and immaterial. Jingo could do this sort of thing, but at great cost. People around him called it the Force. Before he stepped through the Window of Time it was called Magic. But descriptive names mattered little. To him it was simply Power.

"C'mong Gheld! You're taking too long." a skinny bald headed man grumbled, looking suspiciously over at the two (obviously dead) rebel engineers.

Jingo stepped into the room with its wall to wall monitors, computer screens and holographic images. Two men were hunched over a terminal busy at work. Scorch marks scarred the walls near two dead bodies with rebel insignias on their lapels. Blaster shots right between their eyes. Accurate. Very accurate. Jingo came closer. Already he knew he didn't have much time left. He eyed the two men. The skinny bald man stood near the big shouldered one sitting at the monitor.

"Shuddup Hugh!" Gheld muttered, rubbing his big hands on his non-descript flight suit and then letting his hand fly over the key pad again. "You ain't makin' it go any faster. Just keep an eye on your monitor and lemme know if any space craft hyper in. We don't want the rebs sneakin a peak at us."

"Gheld, you're a paranoid fool. Ever since the IW shot up this place last week, it's been abandoned."

"All the same. . . well lookee here!" Gheld cursed and grinned. "Those pigs sure did a number on the inventory!" Gheld chuckled.

"What'd they take?" asked Hugh, squinting his eyes as he peered over the Gheld's ample shoulders.

"All sortsa junk. weapons, spare parts, and a hyper-drive engine. Must've been desperate!" Gheld spat on the floor and contined.

"I don't see how this helps us none." Hugh said scratching his head.

"You never did pay attention in breifings. All we need is one file. And. . ." Gheld paused as he eyed the monitor typing furiously. "Rebel security is easier than slippin a mono-wire blade through Bantha butter. I'm in, Hugh."

"Shoot! You are good."

"Chalk it up to Imperial Service before Endor." Gheld grinned. "Now setup your equipment. If we're lucky this'll only take a couple of hours and it'll make the Grand Admiral very, very happy. We might even get a promotion and a raise." The two men set up some sophisticated electronic, communiction systems and then the room faded and Jingo could only see blackness.

When he opened his eyes, Jingo wiped the blood from his mouth and slowly climbed to his feet. It was easier to do this kind of snooping before he fell through the Window in Time. But now. . . things were different. He felt the sweat cover his face and all his muscles ached. But he learned something important. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was important.

 

--- Dark Star Bridge 1600 Hours

"Sir, can I speak with you alone." Jingo asked VA Kelvin, the acting Commodore of the Dark Star.

"Certainly". VA Kelvin replied. "Piler, you have the bridge." When they were alone in Kelvin's private quarters, Kelvin asked. "So is this about your inspection of the mine field?"

"No, sir. The engineers did their jobs flawlessly there. We're in a good defensible spot here. No, this is something else."

"Well?" Kelvin asked.

"It's rather difficult to explain. Suffice it to say that I have some additional information relative to our current situation."

"You've found a faster way to get the hyperdrive working?"

"No, sir. Nothing like that. You'll still need the specialized crew we've called for. But I've recently come across some information that affects our current security."

"And what's that? And we're not exactly secure Jingo."

"I know that sir."

"Then stop being so cryptic, what information did you get?"

"There's a third party involved. It may be a pirate group."

"Involved in what?"

"Involved in our current situation. Interested, in what the IW is doing here in Rebel space."

"I'd bet lots of people are interested."

"These people have know-how. They're professionals. They've broken into a high security Rebel computer network in this sector and I believe they're tracking us."

"What exactly are you saying."

"That something's not right. I suspect an ambush."

"From whom? The Rebels?" Kevin tilted his head knowingly.

"Well, it's obvious they would do that. No, I suspect an attack from this other group."

"And who are they?"

"I don't know."

"And I don't suppose you have any time table on an attack taking place?" Kelvin asked sarcastically.

"No sir."

"Jingo, did anyone ever tell you that you can be darn well agonizing when you want to be!" Kelvin glowered at him.

"As a matter of fact, sir, they -- "

"No," VA Kelvin chuckled, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. I guess I'll just have to trust another one of your hunches. We'll keep on the alert. But please try and get more complete information in the future."

"Yes, sir."

"All the same, though I'll feel a heck of a lot better when our re-inforcements arrive."

"How much longer?" Jingo questioned.

"Any time now. I suspect --" he was interrupted by the comm system.

"VA Kelvin," Piler's voice sounded a bit stiff over the comm. "Sorry to interrupt, sir but we've got a problem."

"Try to be a little less ambiguous. It's getting late in the afternoon."

"Yes sir. Rebel fleet just exited hyper space."

VA Kelvin cursed and began to run to the bridge.

-- Dark Star Hanger Bay A 1630 Hours

"Alright Wing II, roll call." Jingo said from inside his Gun Boat. They had lost so many Tie Interceptors and Tie Fighters the last little while that the pilots were down to flying just gunboats and Tie Bombers. Of course the bombers had shields now. A recent improvement that the tech crews had worked on for the past week.

"Wasp Squadron, all here."

"Legacy standing by."

"Inferno's cookin'."

"Black Squadron ready to roll." called Col. Baktru. On official roll calls, Baktru signed in Black Squadron even though Jingo was officially the Black's Squadron commander.

"Ok, pilots. Mini-briefing before we're cleared to launch. . . Here's the deal. We have to hold off any attack until our re-inforcements can arrive. I don't know when that is, but the Commodore feels it'll be soon.

"When the calvary comes over the hill they're bringing a special shuttle crew from Pheonix Technologies to install the Hyper Drive. We have to make sure that crew get's aboard the Dark Star. Keep your eyes on your HUDs and an ear glued to the Tac Net for additional information.

"The Gunboats, that's Black and Inferno Squadrons, will gain space superiority. You're outfitted with the most advanced missles we have onboard the DarkStar. Keep the Dark Star safe and give the Tie Bombers the cover they'll need to take out any ships. Tie Bombers with normal torpedoes are Legacy and Wasp Squadrons.

"Now, we don't know how many we're up against so go hard and go strong. Remember that you'll be fighting in an asteroid belt and in our mine field. These mines are friendly unless you run into them. The asteroids can be your worst enemy if you lose control of your ship."

== CLEARED TO LAUNCH == Flashed across his HUD.

"Ok folks. Let's do it!" Jingo growled. Engines screamed to life and the four squadrons rushed to meet the night.

Fly DarkStar3.tie

Sneak Preview of Mission 3

"Status?" Yelled VA Kelvin as another blast rumbled with dull thunder off the heavy hull of the huge ship. The massive MC-120 DarkStar was built for heavy combat and could withstand significant punishment, but even VA Kelvin, the DarkStar's Commodore had to admit that this behemoth of a ship, given enough time and enough damage, could indeed be destroyed or disabled. Luckily it wasn't close to that. Yet.

"Sir, we've just lost our portside deflector shields." came the voice from the comlink.

"Shut down all power to the engines, and put it into shields. We've got to hold out!"

"Yes, sir."

"I want a an update on our losses, stat!"

Moments later a voice crackled from Tactical Command to the speakers on the bridge. "Sir, Damage Control estimates a thirty percent loss in our fighter craft."

"And the enemy?"

"Well, we don't know the extent of their forces, sir, but if they're using a standard Battle Group, we estimate around sixty percent losses to their star fighter craft and fifty percent losses to their capital ships.

Kelvin rubbed his hands together and smiled. "By Erebia's sun, we're giving them a beating!" The rebels had sent in four waves comprised of up to four capital ships each. Each wave contained Destroyers and Nebulon Frigates. Two waves had been destroyed as they came under combined heavy fire of both the mine fields, and the DarkStar's heavy gunnery emplacements. The DarkStar's Tie Bombers had made short work of them once their shields were down.

Kelvin looked at the schematic of the DarkStar's tactical position displayed on a massive screen on the bridge. He anxiously stroked his thin face and leaned forward in his command chair. Where was all this leading them, he wonderered? Where were those re-inforcements? He cursed under his breath and issued another command. "I want Black Squadron to pull back closer to the ship. We don't want any fighters getting through." A holographic display showed the combat unfolding before his eyes.

= = = = =

"Black 1, please move to defensive positioning sector niner-six around Home 1"

"We heard you! We heard you!" Yatani cursed as he jammed the stick downwards and watched the hull of the large Destroyer spin out of view behind him. And with satisfaction he also saw the last few bolts of his strafing run finally penetrate the Destoryer's heavy shields and churn up some of the heavy armour on the hull. He didn't have time to celebrate, though. Spiraling down and to the left, he managed to avoid the four arcs of deadly blaster fire that lanced over his cockpit. That was close.

"Roger that, Black 1. Please confirm when you've reached defensive position in sector B." The area appeared on his HUD.

"HQ, w'ere in a bit of a bind here. Bogies are all over the place."

"Roger. Break free as soon as possible."

"We'll do our best!" Yatani said as his HUD confirmed another fear, a full squadron of enemy X-Wings shot out of the lightly damaged Destroyer on an intercept course to his boys in the Gun Boats. "Head's up Black Squadron, we've got company!"

 

"Sir another wave is approaching." Kelvin's head shot up. From his view port, he could see that four more Destroyers were heading towards the DarkStar, with approximately sixty to a hundred fighters closing in.

"ETA?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Approximately three minutes, sir. Then they'll be within the DarkStar's torpedo range."

"And the fighters?"

"ETA one minute, sir."

"Very well. Make sure all missle racks and torpedo tubes are filled to the hilt."

"Yes, sir."

"And where's Black Squadron?"

"They're still engaged sir. They can't break free."

"Very well, have Wasp Squadron dump their ordinance at the Destroyer nearest Black. Then have them assist against those X-Wings."

"But, sir, they're--"

"I understand that they aren't built for dogfighting. Carry out your orders, Colonel."

"Yes sir." Wasp squadron was flying Tie Bombers. Modified, of course, with what was wryly called second chance shields. While their new shielding made them about five times as effective on bombing runs, they were still very slow and deliberately engaging them in a dog-fight was a risky move. But it was one that VA Kelvin was prepared to take. He had to buy more time.

= = = = =

"Baktru! Cut to your left!" Yatani swore as the X-Wing on Baktru's tail fired twin missles. "You've got two hot ones! Watch yourself!" Yatani struggled to watch his own tail, pulling his Gun Boat through a series of complex maneuvers he managed to keep their blaster bolts from hitting him. Being an ace helped immensely. Although, he reminded himself as he always did. One wrong move could still spell sudden death in this dance among the stars.

"I see them!" A defensive flare shot out from Baktru's ships destroying one missle, adding more to the space dust." Although Black Squadron was outiftted with the latest in Imperial techonogy, they were heavily outnumbered. Only their skill as pilots and their extra store of missles and defensive flares kept the enemy fighters at bay. Baktru pulled his Gun Boat into a twisting dive and the missle shot past him and began to circle around, still on his tail. "Uh commander, I'm out of flares."

"Come to twenty degrees. Steller Maneuver."

"Yes sir!" To all appearances, Yatani and Baktru seemed to be playing a game of hi-tech chicken, each flying at high speeds toward the other. Black Squadron had trained extensively in what they termed natural counter-measures. Made for situations just like these, when there were no counter-measures.

"Now!"Yatani yelled and at the last moment, Baktru's Gun Boat shot straight up flying at a 60 degree angle above Yatani's. The missle flew right into Jingo's stream of rapid fire laser shots, exploding into hundreds of tiny metalic fragments.

"Got it!"

"Thanks Commander. Now only eleven more bogies to go."

"Time to get an eye implant, Baktru. We've got another inbound squadron. That'll be closer to twenty-three." Even an ace didn't relish working with such odds against him.

"That's no rebel craft. Those are Tie Bombers. Wasp Squadron I believe." Flash of light followed flash of light as torpedo followed torpedo to impact with explosive devastation on the hull of the nearest Destroyer. "You go Wasp!" Baktru yelled in delight.

"Black Squadron, this is Commander Baron. Pull clear of the ship, she's gonna blow."

Yatani pulled his Gun Boat through an Immealmen maneauver, and his squadron followed suit, momentarily dodging the enemy on their tails as well as putting some distance between them and the failing Destroyer.

"Nice to see some familiar faces." Yatani said just as the enemy Destroyer erupted, momentarily filling the immensity of space with chunks of debris that traveled at intertia until other forces interceded. The explosion brightened Jingo's fairly dim day. Metalic chunks and pieces of armour from the destroyed ship, scattered off his gunboat's shields.

"That's always a pretty site!" Baktru grinned through his comm.

"Rewards of the trade." Yatani commented.

"Looks like Wasp gets to bail Black out again." came the familiar voice of Commander Baron once more. He was wasp Squadron Commander. "Alright Wasp, switch to blasters and let's engage those X-Wings." Came the sure voice.

"Thanks, Baron." Yatani breathed in relief as the Wasp Squadron flew past them already belching forth a steady stream of rapid fire laser, easily clearing their tails of the closing enemy X-Wings.

"Any time your tail, needs clearing. Sir, you'll know who to call."

"Don't get cocky. Ok, Black Squadron. Looks like our Wasp boys can handle this. Let's save the DarkStar."

 

"Sir, Black has reached the defensive position around the DarkStar and is engaging the enemy fighters encroaching into our kill zone."

"Good. Keep them there for now. Can we get our shields back on-line?"

"Not in this battle. Sir, the enemy destroyers are in range."

"Engage with everything we've got. Don't let them get close."

"Yes, sir. Fire at will." The command was given to the gunnery crews and torpedo after torpedo, missle after missle lurched into the darkness of space. Yet even though the first Destroyer was taking heavy damage, the others moved within range of the massive Turbo laser cannons.

"Now we're in for it." VA Kelvin sighed. thundering roll began again. This time it was occassionally accompanied by a light shudder.

"Enemy fighters coming from those destroyers. Z-95 Head Hunter class. I count four squadrons."

"Get Black on them."

"Yes sir!" The command was given and chaos broke out. Black Sqadron was enveloped in a cloud of Z-95 head hunters, but even against those incredible odds they seemed to be holding them off. Barely. With the assistance of the DarkStar's large guns and missle racks, it was clear that both sides were taking a beating. The heavily armoured hull of the DarkStar only took light damage from the ensuing laser and missle attacks. But VA Kelvin was forced to think, that it was only a matter of time.

"Sir, incomming transmission?"

"From the enemy?"

"No sir. These have just hypered in. Their IFF readings don't match the enemies --" the aide's face broke into a wide grin which spelled relief. "--They're our's sir. Our re-enforcements have arrived."

"DarkStar , this is Battle Group 1, here to assist."

"Thank the stars! Put them on screen." VA Kelvin ordered. The gigantic display of the battle showed four Nebulon Frigates closing at rapid speed on the New Republic ships. Fighter craft consisting of both Tie Fighters and Tie Bombers began jetting from the hanger bays and moving into intercept position.

"Sir." A tall, thin man with a definite military bearing and numerous medals spoke from the holographic display. His back was rigid and his hand never wavered from his salute. "I'm Colonel Piler aboard the Lord Gita. You are now in command of the reinforcements in this Battlegroup. We're currently launching fighters to intercept."

"Thank you, Colonel Piler." Nodded VA Kelvin. "It's good to see a friendly face. Did you bring the package?" The package referred to was the much needed Shuttle Craft from Phoenix Technologies. carrying the sphophisticated equipment and crew with the technical know-how to install retro-fit and install a hyperdrive engine.

"Yes sir, we've got what you need."

"Good work, Colonel. Have your forces, clear the way. When it's safe to do so, transfer the package to the DarkStar. I want to get this ship to port as soon as possible.."

"Yes, sir!" Piler said, saluting smartly. "Our forces are now engaging."From his control screen, VA Kelvin could see that remaining squadron or so of Z-95's quickly fell under the onslaught of missle and laser fire. And from the viewport bright flashes of light punctuated the darkness of space as fighter after fighter exploded into the silent darkness of space.

"All gunnery crews target that last approaching destroyer."

. "Upload our full tactical situation to the rest of the Battle Group and let's clean the rest of this mess up." VA Kelvin said, all business. "There's still four Destroyers out there, they ought to be running with their tails between their legs if they know what's best of them."

DarkStar 2230 Hours

Yatani streatched and washed the soap from his face. He let the warm water run down his back and sighed in great relaxation. There was nothing quite like a hot relaxing shower after a particularly stressful day of work as a pilot. They were lucky. None of Black Squadron had died. They lost eight of their Gun Boats, but all the ejected pods came back with only minor injuries. And given time, the Gun Boats could be replaced. The lives of good pilots, good men? Not so easily done. He toweled his hair, put on a white cotton bathrobe and combed his dark, jet black hair. This was his ritual. Something to soothe and calm his nerves after battle. He always showered, shaved, and wore his bathrobe. He wanted nothing better than to fall into his cot for a few hours of much needed rest. No sooner did his head hit the pillow than he was asleep.

Their comm sounded with a light hearted chime and instantly Jingo was awake.

"Yes?" he asked with foreboding. He hadn't been asleep long, maybe fifteen mintues.

"Sir." The voice of an orderly crackled over the line. "Vice Admiral Kelvin requests your presence in the Command Conference Room at 2300 hours." What did the Commodore want now? It must be important enough to call at this time.

"I'll be there." Jingo sighed and stretched. Why did he have this feeling? Of something. . . something about to happen? He couldn't quite place his finger on it. It had something to do with the events he had seen on the Platform earlier in the day. What had those two non-descript intruders been up to? They weren't friends of the New Republic, the blaster marks on the dead bodies testified to that. Who were they? And what was their purpose on that Platform? They were looking for something in the computer system. And whatever it was, they found it. And does that relationship have anything to do with the IW. Who was behind it, and what did his vision mean? Too many questions.

Jingo quickly dressed and made his way down the corridor of the DarkStar still pondering the current situation.

DarkStar

Command Conference Room

2300 Hours

"Gentlemen, please be seated!" Kelvin stood with his hand spread out on the edge of the table in front of a large black chair. He spoke slowly, as if very tired. "As you know our forces engaged the enemy in battle. Our re-inforcements arrived just in time. We are grateful to their timely arrival." Kelvin nodded pointedly in Piler's direction. And Piler gravely returned the nod, his mouth a thin line.

"I know you've all been debriefed already, but I've called this council together to discuss something that I believe is important. The holo-tapes, please." Instantly the room darkened, and it was as if Jingo was once more back in the battle. He saw four large Destroyer class vessels, succumb to punishing laser and missles fire from the DarkStar and the IW's combined re-inforcements. Four large explosions lit the blackness of space, showering the emptiness with hunks of now twisted scrap metal. They replayed the last few minutes of the battle from a variety of views. From the various bridges and from various starfighter cameras.

"There was something puzzling about this entire affair. What about this battle strikes you as odd?" Jingo wondered what Kelvin was looking for. There was indeed something out of place. Something was different from the other battles he had recently participated in. He could feel it, but he couldn't quite place it. A long silent moment went by and when no one spoke Kelvin continued.

"Gentlemen. There were no communications. Rebels have the bad habit of hailing you to surrender before they open fire, thereby announcing their position. And what's more is --"

"They fought to the last man!" Piler announced, his mouth beginning to open in slow wonderment.

"That's right, Piler. Rebels will typically surrender when outgunned. Gentlemen, I believe we were attacked by automated systems, by droids."

"Droids?" Jingo questioned, not believing his ears. "Those pilots sure didn't fight like droids. Most of them flew better than the average pilot."

'That is why we're holding this meeting. I think we've stumbled upon something very important."

"If they were using droids, then that means -- "

"It means we have a problem. Droids haven't been used in large scale combat by the Republic for centuries. Occasionally, a Warlord or two will scrape together a few droid ships, but nothing this size."

"But a droid army is expressly against the rules of war!" Piler said, his eyes flashed a crisp brilliant blue. "The UGT states in section five that--"

"The United Galactic Treaty holds no meaning to pirates, brigands, and rebels, Colonel Piler. These types don't fight by our rules of war, Piler. While it's true this isn't something they would normally do, I don't think I'd put it past them.

"If you remember, the United Galactic Treaty, formed shortly after the Clone Wars and before Senator Palpatine took control of the Old Republic, section five said that no standing army could use droids to attack a sentient army. Piler knows his history and his military doctrine very well.

"It was later documented that Emperor Palpatine feared a possible revolt from the galactic Trade federation whose sole military consisted of droids.

"But why a droid army?" Jingo questioned.

"That's not too difficult." Piler answered. Jingo could almost see the precision gears of this military man's brain working in perfect unison. "Think of all the problems associated with a living, breathing being. Food, water, comfort, space. Plus there's no post-battle trauma, no fatigue, no sickness. . . the list goes on. It's simply more efficient to use a droid army. Not to mention the instant communications between each piece of hardware. It's just not, well, human."

"Obviously. But isn't raising a droid army expensive?" Jingo questioned.

"Yes. The maintenance bill alone would be very substantial." Piler answered. "Not to mention the spare parts, the millions of computer systems and built in processors."

"Is cost the only downside?" Asked Jingo.

"No," answered Piler. "There's definintely more than just cost. First off, there's really no room for individuality. No individual thought. There's no bravery. No real on-the-spot tactics. And no hearos. Everything is done by the book. And once the main processer is destroyed, the droid army is useless. The advantages make up for these few disadvantages."

"So where could they have raised this droid army?" Jingo asked. "I doubt the Rebellion has enough funds to come up with anything very substantial. And as far as their government passing a measure allowing for the construction of such a thing, seems improbable if not impssible. I'm fairly certain their government argues and bickers at least as the New Imperium's Senate."

"Indeed. It doesn't seem probable that the Rebels could come up with it." Kelvin answered. "But that's besides the point. The here and now is that we have been attacked by a droid army and we need to decide what to do about it."

"Sir, I'm having a hard time believing the Rebels could have put this army together. I don't think they did. If we know where they came from we may have a better chance at defeating them."

"How would knowing their origin help?" questioned Kelvin.

"If we can find where they're coming from, how and where they're being produced. . . well, at chop a tree at it's roots, they say. It's much more effective than just the branches." Jingo said, smiling.

"Right again. Very well, what do you propose?" Kelvin eyed the group.

"Sir, is this really an isolated instace?"

"What are you saying, Jingo?"

"I think there may be a pattern here. First off, when we dropped out of hyper-space to fix our hyperdrive, we were jumped by pirates, or at least rebels in pirate craft. Or so we originally thought. I'm proposing that the first attack was also made by a droid army."

"Interesting. They also fought to the last man." Kelvin paused, considering. "So this has been going on for some time now?"

"I think so. If we run a computer analysis on all the military enganglements the IW has been in in the past six months or so, my guess is that we'll find additional insights on what's happening. And I propose we capture a droid."

"Intriguing. Very well. Jingo I want you and Piler to work together on this little project. Use whatever means necessary. Find something in the next 48 hours. I want information. Soon. For now, this information is classified. Let's keep it under wraps. Dismissed."

DarkStar Science Lab

Next Morning 1000 Hours

"Sir, I don't think it's going to work." a man in a white lab coat stood with a datapad, running tests on a black metalic rod about three handswidths in length.

"You can't boost the power any higher?" Jingo asked, viewing the various readings. The power level just wasn't acceptable.

"Not on the power supply it currently has. On a fighter ship, this would be no problem at all. But as a hand held item this small, on a power supply smaller than 1/100th the size of your engine, I'm sorry to say that it isn't possible." Jingo paused for a moment. Digesting the bad news. He had been in the science lab all night trying to drum up a weapon that could be used to disable a droid. Standard ION cannons were simply too large but they needed to bag a droid. Not just the ship but actual droids inside. Previous attempts at capturing them in wreckage left over from the battle only resulted in the rapid self destruct sequence that they had seen over a dozen times. Now they were out of possibilities. Not only did they have to bag a ship, but they had to bag a droid as well. It seemed so simple. Except that droids simply weren't human.

"What if we carried a larger supply. Something that this could plug into. Would it be doable?"

"I don't see any reason why it wouldn't. The larger, the supply of course, the more effective it'll be."

"Well, put something together that a 10 man team can lug around." Jingo said. "And do it quickly. I need at least one, preferrebly two by this evening."

"Yes sir. I'll get on it right away, sir."

DarkStar Level 2C

1400 Hours

Jingo left and headed for Piler's quarters. Piler was in charge of getting the ship and Jingo was in charge of a ground force to go into the ship to secure the droid. Intact. No disentegrations. That was the problem. Especially when those self-destruct sequences had a habit of disentegrating all suspects they could get their hands on. Somehow the droid new it was captured and simply exploded. Three good engineers had to be admitted to sick bay for lacerations and concussion damage. But they weren't seriously injured. Jingo paused before Piler's room, and pushed a button.

"Who is it?" Piler's voice crackled through the intercom.

"Who else?" Jingo said unpleasantly as the door slid open.

"My aren't we in a good mood this morning." Piler smiled sarcasticaly.

"No we are not. You may be, but I haven't had any sleep." Jingo ran a hand over his eyes.

"Too bad. I just finished a relaxing bath. It does wonders. You should try it sometime." Jingo glowered at him.

"Well, Come in and sit down." Piler said with that polite military bearing. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No."

"Anything to eat?'

"No."

"Anything --"

"No! I just want to find out your status. We're supposed to have something for Kelvin in less than 36 hours."

"My friend, these things don't happen overnight."

"Well, they need to. We're supposed to have a droid ship very soon."

"Look this is what delegation is for. I've got two teams running twenty-four hour surveilance on this system. Naturally, with our hyperdrive in parts on Engineering's floor, we can't go looking for a droid ship. We have to wait for one to come to us."

"And what are the chances of that?"

"About one out of a million if we don't do anything." Piler said, getting himself a drink from his personal bar. He soon held a tall glass with something honey-looking.

"And what are you doing? Anything pro-active. Or are you on vacation." Jingo spat.

"You don't know me well. Do you, my friend. As we speak, hundreds of coded messages, designed by my teams, mind you, are being sent to various places in space."

"And what do they say?" Jingo asked.

"They say that the DarkStar is in serious dis-repair and needs immediate evacuation." Piler spoke seriously.

"Maybe, you haven't thought this through, Piler." Jingo said. "But in case you didn't notice, we're sitting in the middle of enemy territory, and you're sending hundreds of messages to all directions of outerspace? Are you mad? We'll have the entire alliance army down on us. I know Kelvin said he wanted something in 48 hours, but this is going a little overboard, even for you, I mean--"

"Are you quite finished? I was joking, Jingo. Joking. I wouldn't be here, unless I knew something about military tactics. No, we aren't going to call down the entire alliance on us. Nor are we going to call down a droid army. We're simply calling in a repair crew in an entirely different system. We've got some beat up freighters posing as a droid transport who has lost it's hyperdrive engines and needs repairs. Statistically speaking, we should get a result in a few hours or so."

"And then what?"

"Then you fly-boys go and knock out all it's systems, and you, Jingo send in a droid capture team."

"What about re-inforcements? What if three ships show up? What if a fleet shows up?"

"You know what? I think I'll get you that drink weather you want one or not." Kelvin paused and filled a second glass and passed it to Jingo. "Here. You need this."

Jingo glowered for a moment, and then took the glass and grinned. "You're right. I apologize, it's just that -- "

"Colonel Piler," a female voice stated over the comm.

"Yes."

"This is echo324. Sir, we've made contact in sector 4B. Two ships that possibly meet your specifications have just jumped out of hyperspace."

"Thank you Captain. Dismissed." then he turned to Jingo and downed the rest of his drink. "Save your apologies, Jingo. We've got work to do. Move you pilots and your assault crew onto the Lord Gita. We've some droids to capture."

Lord Gita Hangar Bay

In Hyperspace

1500 Hours

"Listen up folks. I'm only going to tell you this once." Jingo eyed a group of men who shuffled uneasilly in storm trooper armour. They had their helmets off and Jingo could finally see what made up the elite ground force of the past Empire. Young boys, eager for battle, and tired Veterens, still committed to the cause. The hangar was its usual babel of noises: Crewmen shouting to one another. Greese monkeys attaching a last needed panel with a hydrospanner, refueling hoses hissing and gurgling.

"My fly boys will knock out those droid ships, and any fighter cover they may have, and then we'll go in to mop up. With this." Jingo wheeled out a large aparatus made of a variety of lights, and wires. "Gentlemen, I'm in charge of this operation, so all orders from me are law, got that? We only have one of these, which our R and D boys have hastily assembled. You not only have the honor of capturing for us our quarry, but you get to play scientist as well. Since this has never been tested in an actual combat engagement, you will gain the honor of aiding the cause of science." A few groans made their way from the back.

"Please pay attention, while I explain these to you." He proceeded to describe the "trigger", a large round, fist-sized button on top of a black man sized box. The "barrel" (more like a turret), a six inch diameter chunk of metal, stuck out of the front of the box in a fixed direction.

"This, is what the lab coats have called the PIC, the portable ion cannon." Jingo was amazed how it could be called portable. They would call anything that moved from a fixed position with any kind of exertion, portable. "It isn't incredibly mobile. It requires three men to push it at all times and then one man to fire it. They were going to install a rotating table but ran out of time. You will have to do your own rotation of the turret. Also, you will only get three shots off with each of these, so make them count. Since we don't want this technology to fall into the hands of the enemy there is a self-destruct switch wired to each unit. Only press that switch after you have captured our quarry. Any questions?" They were stormtroopers. Through and through. There were no questions. They learned their lessons well and paid attention the first time. Those who didn't pay attention the first time didn't generally survive to repeat their mistake the next time.

"Good. Use your blaster rifles only when you're pressed to do so. And only if you're outnumbered. Remember we want to capture our quarry, not disentegrate them. You will receive further breifing from your immediate superiors when the time is right. Get on board the Dropship, and look sharp, we could go in at any minute!"

The men hurried to the hatch carrying the assortment of gear that storm troopers would carry: Explosive charges, extra power cells for their guns, and utitlity belts full of other miscellaneous gear Jingo could not name. They clamboured aboard the metalic, and sleek looking dropship. Jingo knew she could take a beating, but he still would rather have been flying his own Tie Defender on this one. But orders were orders. Someone who understood the importance of this mission had to come along, and Piler wasn't about to let Jingo take the Lord Gita.

Either way, Jingo wanted to get to the bottom of this whole mystery as much as anyone. A droid army on the loose didn't bode good news.

"Sir we've exited hyper-space. The target ships are in the area. They're approaching our false distress signal." They had left the DarkStar behind and went on their own to grab the droids.

"Very well. Launch Black Squadron as soon as possible." Piler answered staring out the viewport as they dropped back into normal space and the stars stopped their stomach wrenching twisting and turning. This didn't phase Piler very much. He has what would have been called in ancient history, his sea legs. He could see the silvery hulls of the sleek droid ships in the distance. The repair craft had come, but it was escorted an ominous looking ship. This was an unfortunate turn of events.

"Sir, Black Squadron has launched."

"Very well, get me the status on that other ship. It doesn't look like the same class as the repair vessel. It looks much bigger."

"Yes sir." a moment passed while data flashed on various computer screens. "Sir, it's larger, nearly 10 times as big." The escort craft definitly wasn't your standard droid repair ship.

"Look at all those other power reading we're picking up." Piler said, pointing to a screen containing relevant data on the approaching ships. "Those are power signatures are roughtly equivelant to standard starfighters. Except that it's carrying lot's of fighters. I'm guessing they can field at least six squadrons." A worried look crossed his stern face. Could they have somehow found out their plan? Was their a leak in IW's security? He couldn't worry much about that right now. Right now he had to keep his crew alive. "It's a Droid Carrier." Piler said. His mouth dropping into a thin hard line. He watched the ships draw closer to their bait, a few hastily constucted freighters. "Inform Black Squadron, they'll need to know what they're up against. Tell them it's imperative that they clear the area of all enemy fighters so that we can move in to disable the ship."

"Yes sir." The message was relayed. Piler was hoping for an easy victory. He stood in front of the viewport, his hands behind his back, his back rigid with years of military precision."

"Sir, Black Squadron is moving into attack position."

"Very good. Full speed ahead!"

"Aye aye, sir! Moving at flank speed."

"Now we see if Jingo's squadron can pull magic out of their flight helmets." Piler said in a low voice, and returned to his command chair.

Fly DarkStar4.tie

Sneak Preview of Mission 4

Chapter 5: Hunting the Hunters

Droid Escort Carrier

1545

Three blaster bolts shot down the hallway and one found their mark. The storm trooper was knocked off his feet.

"Blast it! We've lost another man!" Jingo stared down at the smoking hole that had pierced the torso of a Stormtrooper and cursed. He resisted the desire to remove his own Stormtrooper helmet. He knew it gave him needed oxygen beyond the limited atmosphere on this lifeless ship. Even though the ship was devoid of life, it was certainly not devoid of resistance. "Move Squad Bravo up to the next hallway and guard the intersection. You three get that Personal Ion Cannon up there! When you get a clean shot, take one out!" Jingo slung his rifle behind his back and bent to help the downed soldier.

"Sir. Bravo Squad is in position. We're taking heavy fire." Jingo spared a quick glance and saw his soldiers pinned against the walls, hard pressed to gain ground. Seargent Steiner, the real man in charge of his soldiers was shouting orders, trying to maneuver the PIC into position for a good shot. He saw a wild barrage of red blaster bolds splash all around his soldiers. These were punctuated by a scream as another man was hit.

"Man down! They've got Hanson!" yelled another soldier.

"Return fire!" shouted Jingo. This was not going as planned. All had proceeded without incident when they had initially entered the droid carrier through the access hatch the level above. They had passed through the upper level relatively unopposed. As they made their way to the central computer, things had gone from good, to bad, to worse, and still worse. They were now down four soldiers. And twenty droids had been blasted to smithereens, but they had yet to get off a clean shot with the PIC. They needed an undamaged droid. For machines, the droids were fighting with surprising resilience and even competence. It was just as Piler has said. They were fighting with textbook accuracy. There was an ambush at nearly every corner as droids armed with blaster rifles

"Seargent Steiner, take command of both Bravo and Charlie squads. You know the orders. This is your arena now." Jingo sighed and returned to the soldier lying in front of him. He checked the suit's readings. His vital signs were still there. So he wasn't dead. At least not yet. Jingo stood and dragged the seemingly life-less body up to where Charlie squad was, and drapped the body unceremoniusly on top of the PIC. The other three casualties had remained casualties. As much as he wanted to take command of the squad, he knew that squad tactics wasn't his forte. He was an excellent pilot. One of the best. But right now, they needed some serious innovation. He was merely there to provide overall direction.

"Yes sir." Steiner moved up and began giving orders with a practiced ease and calm that spoke of his years of experience as a ground pounding -yet surviving- grunt. "Alright, Charlie squad give us covering fire. Bravo move up on my mark." Charlie squad layed down a deadly sheet of fire keeping the droid forces pinned. "Bravo, move move move!" Bravo squad moved up shooting when they had the opportunity. Droids fell to pieces. To Jingo it all seemed a matter of being able to shoot first, shoot fastest, shoot the most accurately and then have the insane desire to do it over and over again.

Thirty seconds later and Seargent Steiner had the entire level cleared and had only two soldiers. Now they were starting to get results. Using the Personal Ion Cannon, Steiner had managed to down at least 1droid before the wiring started sparking and the powercells overloaded and melted the entire thing into slag. The bright blue bolt that had shot from the cannon was an impressive site. Jingo hoped it had had its intended result.

"Steiner?" Jingo shouted through his com-link.

"Yes sir!"

"Orders have changed!" Jingo could make out the sound of more firing. The PICs out of business and we have our droid! I'm taking three men to move the droid back to the transport. You and the rest of Bravo and Charlie are going to capture this ship. Proceed to the main control room."

"Yes sir!"

From then on out, it was simply a matter of clearing the entire ship of the hostile droids. Simply, as if one met blaster armed droids every day. Jingo had every confidence in Steiner, however. The man was well liked and trusted by his men. He'd get the job done.

"You three, come with me." Jingo motioned to the three soliders. "Two of you carry the droid. I'll go point. You," Jingo pointed to a short and lithe trooper. "cover our rear." Jingo readied his own blaster rifle and began making his way back to the transport. The droid was large, awkward and heavy when not operating on its own power. It was expected to be heavy with all the gear it contained. It was made completely out of metal and stood about five feet tall. It sported an evil looking balck blaster rifle attached to both forearms. On it's back there was what appeared to be a communication pack, although Jingo supposed it could be extra power for the weapons, or simply the computer system that ran the droid. The smooth faceplate covered what seemed to make up of various optical and heat sensors.

The two soldiers dragged the droid up up a level and began making their way to the access hatch that they had first used to enter the droid carrier. Another five minutes or so, and they'd be back on their transport.

"HQ, this is Jingo Yatani. We've got the package. We'll be aboard the ATR shortly."

"..tion....can't...you. Repeat, we can't...hear.... We... losing....trans...."

"Sir, we've lost them." said Jackson, one of the large troopers dragging the blackened droid.

"We've what?"

"We've lost communications with them."

"How could that be? We aren't nearly outside the range of our helmet's communicators."

"I know that sir, but it seems like something is jamming the signal. It's gotta be--"

"Wait, did you hear that?" Jingo froze. He wasn't sure what he heard. Or even if he heard anything. But danger was nearby. Every muscle stood on edge begging for release.

"What?" They could hear each other breathing over the comm link. "Sir, I don't --"

"Be quiet!" Again, nothing but breathing. It was only a whoosh, the barest whisper of sounds. Jingo got off one shot with his blaster before something large, very fast, and nearly invisible attacked. It stood over two metres tall and was somehow veiled in a shadow that tricked the eye. Whatever it was shot right towards Jingo's head. He had only a millisecond. He leaped back, twisting his head and torso to the right. Yet flattened against the wall as he was, a part of his assailant's attack smashed his faceplate, slamming him to the ground. He shook his head groggily, crawled knelt on one knee.

"Sir it's---what the--!" Jackson screamed. Then more blaster shots were fired. Jingo scrambled to his feet, leaning against the wall. He still had spots before his vision. Jingo raised his blaster and saw Jackson lying motionless in a pool of blood. A large portion of his chest was missing. Something with an incredible amount of force and speed had hit Jackson. Missed me and hit Jackson, Jingo realized. Although stormtrooper armour was often laughed at for its lack of protective capability, against blasters, it did offer some protection from sharp and objects. Jingo didn't feel inclined to laugh this time. He realized that his quick fighter re-flexes saved his life and that the armour he was wearing was of no use against their attacker.

Another blaster bolt shot down the hallway past him, and another scream. Grieg Pitts, the other large man went down clutching his upper thigh, screaming. His lower leg was completely gone, over thirty feet down the hallway. What was this thing? More importantly where was it? Jingo peered into the darkness and then switched his helmet night vision. Again nothing. He then switched it to thermals. And then he could see a brief heat signature. The shape appearted to be a large metalic oval shape, about 1 meter in diameter and twice that in height. He raised his blaster to fire, and then dove to the ground as he heard a click. Then a whoosh. Something shot past him and embedded itself with a loud thunk into the thick metal wall of the droid ship's interior.

"Switch to thermals!" Jingo's dive turned into a quick roll and he was again on his feet. He aimed his gun and sqeezed off a tri-burst. Three red blaster shots followed in rapid succession, the first shot hit and then the ball dodged and weaved and shot off down the hallway, disappearing around the corner at incredible speeds.

"Did we get it?" Peterson, the short one on rear guard asked.

"I don't know. But right now I don't want us to go after it." Peterson looked relieved. "See what you can do about Pitts." Jingo walked over to the moaning man. He knew it'd be some time --and a tiresome prosthetic procedure later-- before Pitts could ever walk again. And it'd never be the same. Medical technology had improved in many ways over the centuries, but in many aspects still fell short of the miracle of creating life.

"Greig's shot up pretty bad." Peterson moved over to the moaning soldier and knelt next to the pool of blood. "He's unconcious, but he's losing blood. What happened to Jackson?" Peterson asked, as he took out a med pack.

"That thing hit him." Jingo said sourly.

"What was it?"

"I'm not sure, looked like a metalic ball of some sort. It's possible that it's one of the ships defenders. But it doesn't seem related to the other droids at all." Jingo frowned. The make seemed entirely different. Even the metal substance wasn't the same. What was it? And what was it doing here, on this ship?

"Sure messed us up real good." Peterson applied an automated pressure pack to the Pitts' upper leg and checked his vital signs. "Well, that's that. So now what do we do?'

Jingo ignored the question and tapped his comlink. If he was lucky he could reach Steiner and see if they could disable or destroy the thing.

"Steiner" Jingo asked. "Come in! Steiner, do you copy?" Nothing but static. He tried again. "Steiner! Do you copy"

"--ank the Emperor. We thought for sure we'd lost you. Things aren't going so good."

"What's your status?" Jingo quietly asked, fearing the worst.

"I've never seen any thing, human or not, move so fast. By the stars! It darn near killed half of Charlie squad."

"So it's down there as well?" Jingo asked himself.

"What sir? Did you encounter it to?"

"It or a copy of it. Yes, we've lost Jackson. And Pitts is badly wounded. It ran off about three minutes ago. Probably when it met up with you."

"Most likely." Steiner spat into the commlink. "We made it to the droid control room two more levels down, punching our way through the droid defenders when something started killing my men. They started flying every which way. It was very messy for a while. But now it's gone. Took us a while to figure out that thermals is the best way to see it, but even then, the heat signature is extremely low."

"Did you get a hit off on it."

"We did, but it doesn't seem to do anything."

"I know." Jingo said, and then continued more slowly. "Seargent, do you have the control room secured?"

"Yes sir, our men are in place and we've re-routed some power to the scanners in this section. Motions scanners are up full. If it comes back again, we'll get it."

"I hope your right. I'd like to capture it if possible." Jingo said. There was silence on the other end. A long pause.

"Well sir, I'll stand by you. But I don't have to like it. I know what that thing can do to my men."

"As do I. Steiner, as soon as you can get power to the main engines, set co-ordinates to the Omeka system she'll then make the jump to our fleet with the DarkStar. I'll get Peterson and Pitts packed onto the ATR with the droid."

"And you, Sir?" Seargent Steiner asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going hunting, Seargent Steiner." Jingo said in a low menacing voice.

"Sir, with all due respect, I understand how you feel. . . I mean, I lost some good men in Charlie squad, but--"

"I know, Seargent. I know the dangers. But the overall security of the New Imperium rests on this. I'm sure you can appreciate the significance of this thing. It's using a technology we don't have. Nothing putting out that much force and energy would give off an almost null heat reading."

"Yes sir. It's just that--"

"It's just that if we don't find out what this is," Jingo broke in, "and where it came from, we could all end up like Jackson with our chests blown out! I don't want that! It's imperative that we capture or destroy this menace."

"Yes sir. I'll come along then."

"That won't be necessary."

"But it is, Sir. You're going up against that and you think you can do it alone?"

"No, I don't think I can. I know I can."

"How?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"I'll explain that when I get back. Carry on your orders." Jingo shut off the comm-link, slung the blaster over his shoulder and knelt next to the droid. At leat they got one of them. All the rest of the defences were destroyed. All but the floating ball. "Peterson, you done there with Pitts?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You stay here with the droid, I'll take Pitts back to the ATR."

Droid Escort Carrier

1620

About a half-hour later Pitts, Peterson, and the captured droid were safely onboard the ATR. Jingo had given Peterson express instructions to open fire on anything entering the ATR without the appropriate security code. He wasn't altogether sure if a blaster rifle could take down the metalic menace, but it was Peterson's only chance if the thing happened to go that way. They were still unable to communicate with the Lord Gita. Jingo surmised that it was this thing was somehow causing the interferance; he told Peterson to head back to the Gita if he wan't back in fifteen minutes.

Jingo walked slowly down the same dark metallic hallway in which Jackson's life had ended. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he figured the thing would show up sooner or later. He unslung his rifle and checked the power charges. Up at maximum. Good, he thought. Now to try something. He stopped walking for a moment and leaned against the near wall; closing his eyes he began to breathe deeply, moving into a sort of trance. He knew he wasn't trained in this sort of thing. At least not to the level of what the current sector called "jedi knights" but he new some things. He extended his senses beyond his body; soon he could see, no feel was more accurate. He could feel the objects in his immediate vicinity. He could feel their relationship with one another. The spacial distances and even to some extent perceive their molecular make up. He was feeling very relaxed, yet very ready for whatever would take place. He stayed there a moment longer. And drove his trance even deeper.

In his minds eye images began to form. There was something big. Very big. And evil. Yet beautifully deadly in it's majesty. The image crystallized and Jingo saw a gargantuan ship, easily ten times larger than the largest Super Star Destroyer, maybe even larger than the Deathstar in it's own right. It was black, dark, long and smooth, with hundreds of decks and millions of passengers.

The ship extended beyond the horizon of his vantage point; still it kept moving. Around Jingo there was an utter fear that surrounded him it in a very palpable way. He labored to control himself and strove to understand this strange vision. He knew that at times when he was deep in trance he could see possibilities in the fabric of time. It was a chancy thing, the future, always in motion, forever dictated by the acts of the present. But somehow, he knew this thing and others would come. It would come into New Imperium space with an ominous wave of terror and destruction. He raced towards the hull of this metallic titan and skimmed over the surface. As if looking for something. Down a hangar bay, into a shaft and then he saw them busily at work: Metalic spheres moving at lightning speeds. Gears whirred and whined and hatches on the spheres opened, revealing metalic clamps and grips, prosthetic-like, yet with whirrling dexterity they repaired damaged fighters, and constructed new ones. Busilly at work, they moved with the grace and speed of quick spiders.

Now he understood. Whatever was on the Escort Ship had a darked and more sinister role than a mere protector. It was a reconassaince droid of some sort; much like palpatine's probe droids of the past, this one on this ship was also performing some sort of recon mission. But why this ship? And what was it's relationship to the droid attackers. Jingo didn't have the answer. But he knew the situation for the entire New Imperium had just increased in its deadly maginitude; these aliens it seemed possessed technology beyond even Palpatine's wildest dreams.

When will they come? Will the NI be ready? Jingo's thoughts whirled about him, brining him out of his trance. I've got to help them, warn them! His vision abrubtly shattered and he was left in a cold dark sweat, still leaning against the wall in the droid ship. He remained there, laboring for breath, feeling the cold dread well up in him at the mere memory of the ship. "By Erebria's Sun!" Jingo muttered, shaking his head, angry at his loss of control; at his trembling hands.

Jingo quickly meditated to regain his composure and then gripped his rifle in his now sweaty hands. That thing was out there. That recon droid. Maybe transmitting back images of dead Jackson. Of easily crushed Pitts. Informing its superiors that this sector was ripe for the taking. And Jingo was the only one who had some idea of what it meant. Jingo was the only one who could stop it.

He took a deep breath, feeling relaxation wash over him like cool water on a feavered face. He extended his senses again and began to walk forward slowly, feeling the air out in front of him. There was nothing. Nothing yet, anyway. Only the dull clank clank clank of his footfalls on the metallic floor. Jingo went down a shaft and the elevator doors opened. He was in a large room with tall metallic columns reaching from floor to ceiling pillar-like, giving the room an odd medieaval feel. Jingo checked his location in his helmet's HUD and noticed that he was in the Hyperdrive Engine's fuel room.

"Where are you?" Jingo whispered.

And then he felt it move into his three dimensional spacial sense, moving at tremendous speed behind him. Jingo dropped to the floor and saw a blur of an appendage open as the sphere jetted over him. Some sort of whirring blade, cut into the column at his left, cutting a huge gash in the metal plating right at neck length, showering Jingo in a flurry of orange sparks.

"Dang! That was close." He grunted, and began scrambling for cover.

Again, he felt -more than saw- the sphere do a quick hundred and eighty degree turn while still jetting backwards. Jingo could swear it had eyes somewhere behind that black, glassy, metalic plate. Jingo heard three whirs followed by a rapid succession of deadly clicks. Jingo rolled to his right pulling his muscles with all his might, as well as with his mind, trying to get the speed he needed to get out of the way. Thump! Thump! Thump! Large metalic projectiles churned up the metal plating next to his left side, barely missing him as he rolled for cover.

"Gotta get the upper hand!" Jingo muttered, as he turned his roll into a crouch, waiting on the balls of his feet, the metal pillar to his back. At least there was cover around from these pillars, he thought. More projectiles clickclickclickclickclickclick punched out towards him. He had to move. Jingo dived sideways, and saw the metalic pillar he was using for cover get shredded all the way through in thirty plus locations. The pillar --in actuallity some kind of massive fuel tank-- began spilling out it's volatile fluid.

Jingo cursed inwardly. Blaster fire would have never been able to punch through the re-inforced metal of that tank! But it was like butter to this thing's high powered projectiles. Jingo raised his blaster to his shoulder, sighted the thing and then fired. He wasn't using his thermals. He could barely see with his natural eyes. Yet somehow, he was operating on pure instinct. Pure reflex. Operating on the same stuff that had made him a great fighter pilot. He was using that sixth sense that told him where that bogie on his taill was, and when it was going to fire that quad blast of lasers into his engine area. Something beyond himself.

The blasts scored dead on, and then riccoshayed disappointedly off it's hull. There was hardly even any scouring on the surface. Then the sphere counter attacked. It spun towards Jingo, cork-screwing its way with bladed appendages extended. Jingo's insticts practically lept for him. He held his gun up for some protection, and felt it snap as one bladed appendage passed through it and into his shoulder armour, biting deep into his flesh.

Jingo screamed in pain and frustration. He dropped the pieces of his now useless rifle, and held his right shoulder with his left hand, scrambling side-ways into a smaller hallway, out of the big engine room. Jingo continuing to stumble through a heavy blast door of sorts, and then fell to one knee; he turned his head and looked back down the hallway into the room he had just exited. He saw the fluid gush and pool on the floor from the punctured tank. Time seemed to slow. It was then that Jingo noticed a dull humming sound, of some sort of power current. The Hyper-drive engines! His mind screamed. Every nerve went taught with desperation as he saw the sphere rush like a banshee down the small hallway towards him, blades extended.

Jingo yelled angrilly, put out a hand in front of him palm extended, and simply pushed. A part of his mind knew there wasn't anything there to push. But somehow, the sphere, instantly stopped its forward motion and somoursaulted easily backwards, end over end, into the Hyper-drive engine room. Jingo had these presence of mind to dive for the blast door control panel as he saw a wave of consuming orange fire billow down the hallway towards him. The heavy doors slammed shut just as the Escort ship lurched wildly, throwing him across the room. And then everything went black.

Bridge of Lord Gita

1700 Hours

"Sir, the Escort Carrier is going to jump into Hyperspace. Their coordinates will take them to our fleet. T-minu 20 and counting."

"Very well." Piler said casually, filing his nails. "How soon until the Lord Gita can make the jump?"

"Three mintues and counting, sir."

"Very good. Carry on." Soon they'd be back with the rest of the fleet and the droid in their cargo bays would give them the lead they needed.

The aide continued counting for the escort carrier. So efficient, Piler thought. He finished filing his little finger and then blew on them.

". . . three. . . two. . . one, and Mark!" The resulting explosion and mini hyperspace jump threw the escort carrier twenty clicks away and into a slow spin.

"What happened!" Piler roared. "I want answers!"

"I don't know, sir! I'm running system checks on the Escort Carrier now! Hull is at 50 percent damage! They've taken severe damage in the engine section."

Piler cursed and swivled in his chair, his face intent. "On screen! And let's pray Jingo's team is all right." The screen flared and zoomed in on the ship. There was simply emptly space where the hyperdrive had been.

"Incomming signal from the Escort Carrier! Whatever was causing the interferance before is gone now."

"Put it through!" Piler commanded.

The audios flared to life on the bridge. "--ome in! Repeat. We've taken casualties. We need immediate medical attention! Please come in!"

"That's Seargent Steiner." Piler grimmaced. "Patch me through."

"Yes sir."

"This is the Lord Gita. Sit tight, Steiner! We're sending help!" Piler said.

"Thank heavens!" Steiner breathed. His voice sounded ragged over the speakers.

"Steiner, is Jingo with you?" Piler asked anxiously.

"No sir. I think he ran into some trouble. We all did, but he went to kill it." Steiner growled. "Damnest thing I ever saw. It was a metallic--"

"Save it for the debreifing. What's your status?"

"We've taken out all the droid defenders. The standard ones anyway. Then we tried to make the jump into hypersspace as ordered; then everything went haywire; something hit the ship!"

"From your schematics, you've taken an internal explosion on your hyperdrive." Piler stated.

"Internal? Sabotoge?"

"Doubtful. But we'll know more in a few minutes. We're sending a team of specialists over right now. Please keep transmitting your current position, until they arrive." Piler cut the transmission and turned to his aide. "Cancel the Gita's Hyper-drive countdown. It looks like we'll be here for a little while. I want a med team on that ATR and I want it back out to that Escort Carrier! If Jingo's alive on that ship we'll find him!"

"Yes sir!"

 

2 Days Later

MC-120 DarkStar

Sickbay

 

"So how're you feeling, Jingo?" Col Baktru asked grinning over the hospital bed.

"I feel like an astroid hit me!" Jingo grimaced. He was sitting up in bed reading some reports. He had regained consciousness a couple of hours before and had been receiving visitors ever since. "So what's up?"

"Well, we got that escort carrier back. We spent a day there repairing its hyperdrive. As for the DarkStar we're still moving on sub-light engines. Crews have been working overtime and have nearly finished re-installing our hyperdrive engine. Other than that nothing real exciting. "

"It's about time that hyperdrive was finished!" Jingo's head sunk back into his pillow; he felt suddenly dizzy. The events of the past couple of weeks swirling around him in broken images.

"Yup." Baktru continued. "Soon we'll be back in port. And away from this crazy venture."

"Crazy." Jingo mused, mulling the past events over his mind. "You haven't seen crazy until you've seen what I just went through on that Escort Carrier." Jingo answered emphatically.

"Hmmm. Well, I suppose you're right. I wasn't there, but you sure said a bunch of strange things while you were out these last couple of days." Baktru fingered his uniform and studied Jingo closely. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"Positive. Why? Wanna take Black Sqadron over for me?"

"How'd you guess?" Baktru grinned.

"Well you can have em for as long as I'm out of action." Jingo smiled and sank back into bed, feeling terribly hungry. "What does a man have to do for a bite of food around here?"

"Beg. And give away squadrons." Baktrue smirked, as he ordered some food for Jingo from the omni-present medical droid. Jingo fell to the meal ravenously; not having eaten anything for the past couple of days had strengthened his appetite. Baktru sat down next to him and let him eat for a few minutes in silence. "So how are you feeling?"

"I thought you already asked that?" Jingo asked inbetween bites.

"I did. But that was before you swallowed a food tray whole."

"Well, I am feeling much better." Jingo swallowed his last bite and pushed away the tray sighing contentedly.

"Good enough for debriefing?" Baktru grinned evilly.

"So that's why they sent you." Jingo smiled.

"You know me too well." Baktru said. "And they are waiting for you. I told them if anyone could get you out of the hospital bed it'd be me." He pointed a thumb at his chest for emphasis. Jingo sighed and licked his fingers behind his bed, leaning back down.

"Can't you just tell them that I'm indisposed at the moment."

"Mmm? I don't think so. I think they'd really like to know about those 'Death Black ships' you were mumbling about."

Jingo frowned at the memory. "I must've said some pretty crazy things while I was out."

"A few." Baktru commented.

"Well," Jingo pulled his legs out of his hopsital bed and flexed his leg muscles. He was still dressed in his hospital robes. "I guess duty calls." Always at the most inopportune times, he thought. "Things were just getting good. Food in bed, free maid service. . ."

"It never lasts does it?" Baktru smiled, helping him up.

"Nope." Jingo hobbled over to the refresher, carrying his uniform at the same time. The medical droid started to protest saying that his system wasn't entirely stable. Jingo waved him away and then smiled at Baktru. "Nor should it, my friend. Nor should it."

1 Hour Later

Debriefing Room

"So what's your take on this, Jingo?" Kelvin asked, eyeing them hawk-like over the black glassy table. Piler, Jingo, and Seargent Steiner sat

"It was a military probe droid." Jingo stated simply.

"How can you be sure?" Inquired Kelvin, his eyes boring down on him.

"I can't explain it to you. I just saw something."

"Enough vagaries, Jingo." Kelvin said. "Tell me how and what you saw! And tell me now!"

"I'm not entirely sure, sir. But I'll tell you what I saw." Jingo related as best he could the strange vision he had seen and the feeling of utter dread that overcame him. And then the hundreds of thousands of war machines populating the city-sized ships. And then in careful detail, omitting the part about him pushing the sphere, he told them of his one on one battle with the metal deamon.

"Erebrias sun!" Kelvin said. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes. I know it sounds unbelievable, but--"

"Jingo, no one has the technology to build those kinds of--" Kelvin sputtered, hitting the table with the palm of his hand. "--it just doens't make sense--can you imagine the cost of the materials alone?"

"Maybe they have a lot of tax payers." Jingo joked.

"Jingo. Please." The Vice Admiral wasn't amused.

"Sorry, sir." Jingo apologized. "I'm just as confused as you are." He was a little more than confused, he admitted to himself. He was frightened. And he knew he wasn't the only one. He could sense the fear in Kelvin also. It must be hard to have always felt safe from your enemies, cushioned inside this mammoth starship; and then all of a sudden you hear reports about city-sized ships with technology beyond your wildest dreams. Talk about bursting your bubble. Jingo shook his head and frowned.

"I'm open to any ideas." Kelvin said. There was a moment of silence.

"What have we found out from the droid we've stolen? And the Carrier we've captured?" Piler asked. "Do we know who made it? Where it came from? Who's behind it?"

"We've made some interesting guesses. No positives mind you, but educated guesses." Kelvin clicked a button on a hidden panel. A holographic display of the Caliban quadrant whirled around them.

"Our current position is near the Omeka system. Where could these Droids have come from? Calculating from the time Piler send out the distress signal to the time the Droids have responded, we guess that they could have come from any number of systems. The most likely, given their population and surface mining facilities would be the Omeka system itself.

"Our analysts, however, believe, based on public shipping records on this area, that the source of the Droid army is the Volantis sytem. The sheer increase in recent shipping to this area over the period of the last three years has been phenomenal and seem to support this.

"The ships going to and from the Volantis system, however, have to IFF codes and could be operating from within a veil of anonymity. It could be the Rebels. It could be a local quadrant bully. It could be anyone. We don't know who's behind it. But we have a pretty good idea that Volantis is the place.

"As soon as we found out this information, I ordered that our own probes be sent to Volantis. There weren't any life forms, but there was most definitely some hostile activity. Our probes began sending back some sketchy data when they fell under attack and were destroyed."

"Destroyed by whom?" Piler asked.

"The droids, presumably." Kelvin said.

"So what's our next step." Jingo asked. Leaning forward, calmly folding his hands.

"We need to destroy the source of the droids." Seargent Steiner said abruptly, his strong face quivering with rage. "That cursed thing killed ten of my best men and we didn't even damage it!"

"I'm sure you understand the cost of battle, Steiner. We know you lost men and if I could, I would bring them back." Kelvin said grimly. "But personal vendettas aren't reason enought to wage wars with."

Steiner didn't back down. He turned to Jingo. "Sir, you said youself that the technology we encountered on that droid Carrier posed a serious threat to not only the IW but the NI as a whole." Jingo nodded assent. "Well, that being the case, then shouldn't we do our utmost to destroy the treat?"

"I think we should." admitted Jingo. Then he turned back to Kelvin. "Sir, if the droid army does have this technology in their grasp and no one does anything to stop them. . ." He spread his hands.

"But what if we bite of more than we can chew?" Piler put in. "Sure, we have a fairly good sized battle group with us now. But we have to look at this logically. We're very deep in UGR territory.

If an entire fleet of rebel ships comes down on us hard, and the local thug in charge of the droid army joins in the fun. . . well, we'd have one happy party, wouldn't we?"

Kelvin eyed Piler sourly. "Suggestions then, Piler?". There was a long pause.

"I think we should attack." Piler sighed, looking at his hands. "I was just hoping I could talk us all out of it." Then he looked up and smiled. "I was trained a little too well as an Imperial Officer." he said apologetically.

"Once of the finest!" Kelvin said. "One of the finest! Very well, then. We'll go to Volantis. Jingo, prepare the attack force."

"Gladly, sir." But inside, Jingo was filled with trepidation. What would await for them at Volantis?

Fly DarkStar5.tie

Sneak Preview of Mission 5

Volantis System

0600 Hours

"Guys I could really use some help out here!" Baktru grunted and jammed the flight stick to the right. Green laser fire punctuated the darkeness of space, spearing the night with their deadly gleam. His little maneuver threw him into a seemingly uncontrolled spin; but that was merely an illusion. He quickly pulled out of it, lining up behind a droid fighter. The rest of his body following intertia's path pulled hard against his restraints.

"Losing your touch, Baktru?" Jingo asked. Baktru had been flying with Black Squadron for a very long time, even before Commander Yatani had been given command of Black Squadron. But he had never been in a fight quite like this one. These droids were uncanny. He had fought droid ships before, and it was like shooting tauntauns in a barrel. Too easy. But the programming on these was different. It was very good, rivaling even some vetren pilots. The other problem was that they just kept coming. This was not the day or the placefor the new recruit.

"No sir! I was just wondering when the rest of you sissies would start pulling your own weight!"

He checked his HUD and saw the indicator go green, indicating a good shot. He squeezed the trigger, and watched the odd looking droid ship with its angled rectangular solar panels explode into an orange ball of flame and metal.

"Scratch one, two hundred more to go." Baktru said nonchalantly.

"Make that hundred and ninty-nine." Jingo said through the tac net his Tie Advanced flying through what was left of his target: bits and pieces of metal and superheated gasses. He mentally crossed off another one. "But you've still got six on your tail, so don't get too cocky."

"At least I don't have eight on me." Baktru said, spinning underneath one of the Guardians, the Destroyer class ships protecting the droid manufacturing facility. The blasts of rapid fire meant for him hit instead on droid's destroyer lessening the shields a little bit more.

Wham! The blast blew apart the rest of Jingo's rear shields. "Come on! Hold together!" He quickly compensated, and pulled some precious engine power into his rear shields. He pulled his Tie Advanced into a tight loop and before he even had the target lined up, he pulled the trigger and obliterated another one. "Yeehah! Down to one hundred ninty-eight!"

"I'm glad we all know how to count." Baktru grinned.

"Just don't get too caught up in it that you stop shooting!" Jingo retorted.

It has been like this for the past twenty minutes. They were outnumbered the minute they arrived in the Volantis system. True, the IW pilots were better pilots. . . overall, but the sheer numbers coupled with the expert programming of the droid craft meant that many of the barraks would have empty beds tonight.

"Baktru, follow my lead! We need to shake these guys!" Jingo pulled a tight loop and began to head towards the hull of the DarkStar.

"Tell me something I don't know. What you got in mind?" Baktru asked, picking up more bogies on his tail.

"You'll see. Just fly real close and don't mess up."

"Great! I love it when you start one of your hairbrained plans again." Baktru said, his craft following suit.

"Hair brained?" Jingo grunted. "This is survival!" Green blaster fire came from behind, coming dangerously close. Jingo read his HUD. There were hundreds of blips in this battle, and the total behind them numbered well over a dozen by now. Luckily not many of them were outfitted with missles. That gave them one large tactical advantage. The Gunboats in Legacy squadron were ripping gaping holes in the ranks of the Tie Droids. Not that the droids cared really. The factory fires were burning bright. They simply kept coming.

The DarkStar's batteries open fired destroying eight of the pursuing craft. Blowing off solar panels, ripping through their main fuselage like paper. The remaining half-dozen or so, screamed after Jingo and Baktru, like Banshees in the night.

Jingo edged his craft closer to the hull of the ship, skimming over the top at tremendous speeds juking left then right using the hull as cover, daring their pursuers to take a fatal risk. The droid ships spat green blaster fire after them, but only managed to spatter their fire on the shields of the DarkStar.

"You're going a little fast, Jingo." Baktru said.

"Nah. C'mon. Let's see how good you are." Jingo baited.

"Anything you wanna try."

"That's the spirit!" Jingo came to the edge of the hull where the relative 'top' of the DarkStar dipped off into space for form the hulking sides of the ship. Jingo shot down the side, following the curve of the hull, placing it between him and the droids until his shields come on line again. Time was as much his ally as anything right now. The DarkStar's batteries were now tied up with a droid capital ship. Most likely the sentinels of the factory, so they had to take out the droids the hard way. They followed the curve of the hull, hugging it skimming over the top with a few metres to spare. Three blips disappeared off his HUD and Jingo was pleased to see the fire flare up against the hull of the ship. The droids were good, but they couldn't match the sixth sense that seemed to somehow seemed to guide Jingo's Tie Advanced.

Jingo and Baktru in unison shot away from the DarkStar's hull and pulled a tight loop, coming onto the five or so behind them. A quad burst shattered the Tie Droid cockpit frying whatever controlled the ship from inside. It burst into a ball of flame onto the DarkStar's armour plated hull. Baktru unleashed a hail of fire from his rapid fire configuration peircing the engine and solar panels in various locations, causing the ship to simply shoot off into space on a locked collision course with the Lord Gita. Soon their pursuers were dead. Once the odds evened out, it was fairly simple.

"All ships, pull away from the factory! Their hull is compromised and it's going to blow!" came the voice over the Tac Net.

"It's about time!" Baktru said. "Let's clean up this mess."

"Agreed!" Jingo pointed his craft toward a cloud of droid craft milling around. "Black Squadron engage the remaining enemy fighters. Let's finish our job."

MC-120 DarkStar

Bridge Section

5 minutes later

"Piler, what's the status of the frigates? " Kelvin asked. Piler's holographic image was filled with static as it stood before him.

"Everything under control, sir. We're receiving damage reports now. The Lord Gita's shields are down and the generator is out. Engines are functioning at 1/3 power, Hull has been breached in two places, casualties are undetermined." I'm sure we could get it repaired given a day or two.

"Sounds good." Kelvin opened up a channel to all the pilots. "Great work, everyone! We've taken out the droid factory! You've made the IW proud! All ships return to your respective hangars. We're setting a course for the Erebria system." He paused, and sat down in his command chair, and sighed deeply. "We're going home." Cheering erupted all over the Tac net. The pilots were exhilirated to finally go to the system they had grown to call home.

"Sir, I'm picking up hyper-space disturbances seven clicks from here." a young Lieutenant said.

"On screen." Kelvin leaned forward and then muttered under his breath. "It's a bad omen."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. What's the disturbance?"

"Incomming ships sir." The screen showed two hulking Imperial Star Destroyers, the lights making up the various view ports and living quarters winked like starts in the endless blackness of space. While the DarkStar stood a good ten times larger than the average Star Destroyer, Kelvin was in no mood to pick a fight.

"IFF codes?" Kelvin questioned.

"Scanning now sir."

"Hmmm. Those are imperial ships. And deep in rebel territory. I wonder who they are."

"Scan doesn't show anything sir. I believe they're jamming us."

"All right. We'll assume this is a hostile force." He opend a channel to the task force. "All craft, belay the return to hanger order. We're picking up incomming capital class ships. You'll have to screen our retreat if they turn out to be hostile force." Kelvin turned to an aide. "How long till we reach the Hyperspace jump point?"

"Another ten minutes sir."

"We're in no position to take on two Star Destroyers in addition to the Destroyers we've knocked out. Move us to the Hyperspace jump point at flanks speed. Put all craft on escort formation."

"Yes Si---." The screen infront of the tech began to flash. "Sir, more ships are hypering in. Three clicks off our flank. These are droid ships."

"Indeed." Kelvin nodded.

"But I don't understand, I thought--"

"You thought we had killed off all the droids." Kelvin finished. "No, now I understand. They mean to trap us." Then he flicked turned on the comm channel. "All capital craft, move as fast as you can to the Hyperspace jump point, fighters cover our retreat. We're cutting our losses and pulling out." He shut off the comm and steepled his hands under his chin, leaning back. "Something is going on." He said finally.

Inferno Squadron

Escort Duty near the MC-120 DarkStar

Another X-Wing exploded, an escape pod shooting out of the flames and escaping gases. Inferno squadron was the least prepared for this mission. The sturdier X-wings, although good at dogfighting, simply didn't have the speed needed to maintain a high survival rate. Inferno Squasdron had already lost it's command Flight in the initial assault against the factory. Now, the re-inforcements were threatening to destroy the entire squadron. Second Lieutenant Fernando strove to keep his craft from buckling under the extreme hull damage. The two Devastator class droid ships had come out of hyperspace nearly right on top of him and those in his flight. Two other members of his flight had ejected and it was down to his wing man and himself to hold off an entire squadron of the new Tie Droids. Fernando considered himself lucky that the Star Destroyers hanging back ominously on his six hadn't opened fire yet.

"How much longer?" Slt Phalanx asked?

"Don't know. Until the brass says it's time to go."

"I say it's time to go. My X-wing's gonna fall apart." He wasn't far from the truth either. Large scorch markes scoured his wings and fuselage, even one cockpit hit had placed a large crack in the plate that led out to space and vacuum beyond.

"Watch you six, Phalanx!" Fernando said. "You've got three bogies!"

"I see em. Fireing flares." A number of flashes erupted from his craft colliding with the droid craft, knocking them off his six. "There, that'll teach 'em to park on my tail. One droid flew across his field of vision, so close he could have reached out and touched it, had his hands been unglued from the flight stick.

"We can't take much more of these!" Fernando said. "Inferno squadron, Let's head back closer to the DarkStar. At least we'll get protection from her gun batteries."

"I'm hearing you." Phalanx agreed. "It's getting thick around here." All of a sudden, missle tone went off in Phalanx's earpiece. "Someone's gotta lock on me."

"Fire flares!" Fernando commanded.

"I'm out!" Phalanx screamed. Three bright flashes erupted in the distance from three Tie Droids that had pulled on his tail. The deadly projectiles sped toward their quary.

"Defensive maneuavers! Now!"

"No good! I can't shake 'em!"

"C'mon Phalanx," Fernando yelled. "Don't go soft on me!"

"Too late---" The resulting explosion sent chunks of metal and fire into Fernando's shields.

Fernando swore. He quickly put everything he had into his engines and decided speed would be his best ally at this point. The X-Wing shot towards the DarkStar as streaks of enemy fire shot past his cockpit. One struck his engine, locking up his flight stick. Fernando cursed again. "Can't anyone get these guys on my six?" Just then all three Tie Droids exploded as hungry missles drove into their vital components before detonating. Fernando checked his displays. Three Gunboats behind him to his left.

"Thanks Legacy Squadron! I owe you one."

"No problem, Inferno. Go ahead and get back to the ship, you're almost to the hyperpoint. We'll cover you from here."

"Roger that. Will do!"

MC-120 DarkStar

Bridge Section

"Report!"

"Sir! Fighter support is just about gone. Most have already returned to our hangers, it's suicide to stay out there!

"I know."

Our shields are down to ten percent!"

"Black and Legacy are still out there. Wasp and Inferno have returned."

"Well that's comforting. Bring 'em all back to our hangers. I don't think fighter craft are going to be stopping us now. They've bought us the time we need. And indeed they had. Inferno was hit hardest when the droid reinforcements jumped in. Missles had torn threw her ranks. But still they had given as much or more than they took . They even managed to take out one of the Dreadnaughts. We'll be jumping in one minute.

Then the klaxon lights began flaring. The proximity warning went off and red lights began flaring inside the bridge. From his bridge viewport Kelvin could see the hull of the other droid Dreadnaught, pull out in front of the DarkStar.

"Sir! It's blocking our path!"

"Too late! Full speed ahead, we don't have time to deal with it! We must reach that Hyperspace point!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Shields full front!" Kelvin cried!

A large shudder shook the hull of the mighty MC-120 DarkStar as the nose shoved it's way through armour plates and reinforced metal beams, buckling the structure of the remaining Dreadnaught, shearing the ship in half. A series of internal explosions blistered the hull of the Dreadnaught and then errupted in one large explosion, throwing large chunks of metal at tremendous speeds into the hull of the DarkStar. The bridge was in chaos as the various techs and aides shook against their restraining harnesses. The lights flickered and an electrical smell filled the air.

"I want a damage report, now!" Kelvin commmanded.

"Shields out, Sir ! Hull has been breached on sections A of deck five and and F of deck six! Overall structural integrity holding at eighty percent."

"Very well. Engineering," Kelvin informed. "we're going to make the jump. What's the status of the hyper-drive?"

"Coordinates are locked in place and power levels are holding, sir."

"Very well, everyone prepare to jump on my mark. Now!" The stars stretched into lines and the DarkStar lept into hyperspace and towards home.

1 Week Later

Hyperspace -En Route to Erebria-

MC-120 DarkStar

Engineering

"Hal, what's the status on the drive?" Stewart asked. Standing back from his work, and wiping his hands on his coveralls. Steward was young and smart, with a touch of ambition. Hence his position as head of Engineering on board the MC-120 DarkStar. He held an electric torch in one hand, and was busy working on some wiring on the sublight engines that'd taken a hit when Kelvin managed to drive this leviathian of a ship straight through the Dreadnaught. Stewart felt as much at home in the engine room as Kelvin did on the bridge. And he was just as dedicated in his own way. He had personally overseen the installation of the captured Hyperdrive.

"Looks good, Sir. No problems." Hal responded reading a display. "Power levels seem stable enough."

"Good. I can't believe we're finally going home. It seems like we've been out here for ages."

"Yup. I know how you feel. It'll be good to get back planetside for some R&R." Hal replied.

"No kidding! I can't wait to go planetside and enjoy the sunshine and the trees again." Sterwart paused and raised the mask, turning off the torch. Erebria. Thy amber dawn stretches forth fingers of rose over purple mist. A royal veil to cover thy shining face."

"Bit of a poet, huh?" Hal smiled swivling in his chair.

"I enjoy good literature." Steward nodded, smiling in revery. " 'Course I don't get much time to read it lately. But when I take some R&R with my wife, that's what I'll do."

"After all this time together and you never told me you were married? When did you tie the knot? " Hal asked.

"Three weeks ago." Stewart shrugged. "And then I was called in to active duty. But she's a lovely little thing. Long brown hair, slender fingers. High cheekbones." He paused slightly embarressed. "Here, I got a holo of her. Take a look." He pulled out a small card and pressed a button. It showed a 3D stationary holographic model of a beautiful woman, dressed in a sensible robe.

"She's beautiful." Hal agreed, running a hand through his short bond hair. "What's her name?"

"Celeste."

"Celeste, huh? What a dame! You're one lucky guy to get a gal like that."

"Well, she's the biggest blessing in my life. If I hadn't met her, I'm sure I----"

"Engineering! What in Palpatine's name is going on?!?" Kelvins voice blared angrily over the comm, startling both men who instantly jumped to their feet.

"Sir? I was just talking about my wife, I did--didn't know that--"

"Not that! What's that cursed hyperdrive doing?"

"Sir?"

"Don't play stupid with me! The DarkStar has shifted course! I want answers! Why?" Stewart's face paled considerably and he put down the torch.

"I don't know sir." He looked at the readouts of the drive on the nearest console and ran a quick diagnostic test. "The drive seems to be functioning properly on my end. Of course with more in depth tests we may be able to figure out--"

"Yes, curse it! Somehow we've shifted course! The nav computer says we're heading for the Olan system, and intelligence doesn't know what's there. I want every available engineer on this problem immediately! And send some of your best techs to check out the Nav computer. I want answers and I want them now! See that this doesn't go beyond us!" The comm closed with a sharp crackle.

"He's not happy." Hal whistled..

"No," Stewart said thoughtfully, scratching his head and eyeing the hyperdrive with a critical eye, "He's not."

MC-120 DarkStar

Midnight

En Route to the Olan System

General Quarters

Jingo jumped through the doorway and continued running, his blaster in hand. He was dressed in simple black garb, running down a metallic hallway. He had to reach them and soon! But who were they? It didn't matter. Not really. Somehow he knew. And that was all that was important.

The two engineers were at the computer console just down the hall. Jingo vaguely remembered being here. Where was here? He had to think hard. Oh yes, here. The rebel station, where they had captured the Hyperdrive. No I rembember. There were two men. And they had killed the rebel guards and. . .he lept over dead bodies who lay sprawled in the hallway; precise blaster marks had disfigured chest and head before giving massive internal damage to those who bore those Deathmarks.

The shots were accurate, whoever these "engineers" were, they were also people with training. He knew the secret was here. Something important. He came to a blast door. It was shut and locked. Anger welled up inside Jingo anger fierce and hot. How dare they! They'll pay for what they've done! Jingo brought his hand up short, clenched his fist and the huge metallic door simply exploded inward, smouldering metal fragments showering its occupents. The force of it blew them to their knees.

Jingo stood in the doorway and strode forward purposefully.

"Who-- who are you?" the fat one stammered.

"That doesn't matter!" Jingo replied. "What have you done here?"

"What? I don't get it. I'm not awake. . . I'm not at the rebel station. That was nearly a month ago. I'm asleep. This isn't real!"

"It is now. Very real. Do you really want to wake up in one piece?" Jingo menaced, raising his fist.

"It's just a dream." The man replied.

"Stubborn fool." Jingo replied and kicked him in the face sending the man sprawling. The man cried out in pain and clutched his bleeding nose.

"If it's a dream, how can you feel pain? How can you bleed? Now answer my question!" Jingo demanded, his face still a mask of fury.

"I don't know what's going on," the skinny one said, drawing a blaster and aiming it at Jingo's back. "But this is all I have to say!" He fired three quick shots. Instantly the disappeared before even reaching him. Jingo turned his head slightly, extended a hand and pushed. Hard. The gun flew out of the mans hand, nearly taking his fingers with it. The object was hurled with such force it smashed through the viewport and out into the blackness of space, spinning into infinity. The atmoshphere in the room began to roar like the sea as it struggled to find it's way out . The tall man screamed in pain, and clutching his fingers fell to his knees.

"Don't try that again." Jingo whispered. His eyes deadly, flashing black in their anger. Even though he whispered, his voice was heard clearly above the escaping gasses. "Now," he turned his attention to both men. "you can either sit here and wait until there's not enough atmoshphere to breathe, or you can tell me what I want to know. It's your choice. But don't underestimate what I can do. You're in my realm now. Tell me what you were doing here."

"It was the Grand Admiral," the fat one stuttered sitting up. "He sent us."

"Now wer'e getting somewhere. Grand Admiral who?"

"I'll never answer. I'll die willingly." Somehow Jingo knew the man wasn't lying. That woudln't get him anywhere.

The room wavered and nearly faded. Jingo held it together with pure strength of will. His teeth were clenched and sweat covered his body.

"So some imperial faction, some slime of the sewar pits sent you. To do what? Answer me or I'll through you out with your friends blaster."

"To capture the Intruder Wing's Flagship." The man answered, trying to regain some of his naturally stoic nature.

"How?" Jingo demanded, grabbing the man's throat, picking him up off his feet.

"We used a virus. A computer virus." Jingo nodded, his face stern. Understanding came. And with the understanding came blackness.

Jingo awoke, felling terribly weak, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth onto his pillow. He coughed weakly, sputtered some of the iron tasting fluid onto his bead and struggled to get up; the mere exertion of it caused him to faint.

Some time later he awoke again. His head pounded. All he could do was barely move his toes. He lay there on his cot, spitting blood and slowly regaining his strenght. How did--? It seemed so real! But he didn't will it to happen. It just did. He was almost a different person. He had felt so much freedom, so much power, yet at the same time terribly vunerable in his omnipotence. Vulnerable because he didn't know how to control it. That scared him more than anything. I must learn control; so much power and it almost killed him. . . how had he had so much power? He pushed the thought out of his head and concentrated on simply moving his body. Agonzing pain shot through him. With an effort he continued raising his body until he was in a sitting position. The world threatened to go black and he put his head down between his knees.

Curses, but it could be terribly addicting to stay in that other realm! He thought. But he knew, somehow he knew that without the proper training such a choice would kill him outright. He came very close to that threshhold tonight.

And who was this mysterious Grand Admiral? Jingo wondered. A virus? He knew he had to warn Kelvin. It may already be too late. But he had to try. Jingo struggled to stand. His room tilted wildly around him he saw white all around the corners of his eyes and then a creaping blackness tookover and he saw no more.

MC-120 DarkStar

0600 Hours

En Route to the Olan System

Bridge Section

"Are you telling me I can't even stop my own ship?!" Kelvin boomed. Stewart from Engineering was on the bridge giving a pre-liminary report of his findings. He didn't like to be in this situation. Not when the Admiral was in this temper. One couldn't blame him, he supposed. After all, it's not everyday your ship get's hi-jacked by unknown phenomena. He took a deep breath and spread his hands.

"Sir, it's the Hyperdrive, somehow the Nav computer has been tampered with. All the coordinates have been re-programmed and the entire section is password protected with some of the most countless levels of security. We're talking very very secure codes. " Stewart explained as best he could.

"What about our slicers. Can't they get around it?" Kevlin questioned.

"We're working on it sir, but it's too early to tell right now. It could take days before we even know."

"Let me help you appreciate our situation!" Vice Admiral Kelvin growled. "This is the Olan system." A holo display flared to life, displaying a pale yellow star holding three planets in its orbit. The display whirled about them in the air. "We're are here." Kelvin explained. A small blip appeared, on a direct course to the planet furthest from the sun. It appeared merely a large rock;.instead of a planet. It seemed so inconsequential to Stewart. How could anything so out of the way and so, he struggeld for the word, well, dull looking put the Vice Admiral into coniptions.

"We don't know what's in the Olan system. We only know that it's deep in UGR territory. That 's all. We could exit hyperspace and continue on to hit that star? We could run into a pirate fleet! We simply don't know." Some of the anger seemed to leave Kelvin and he sighed. "This whole trip leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"From your display it looks like we have ten hours before we enter the Olan system." Stewart observed.

"Yes. Can you pull a miracle in ten hours?" Kelvin asked, not really believing a positive response even if he got one. He didn't get one.

"I don't think so sir. I'll do my best, but I highly doubt it. I know what my men are trained in and this isn't it. You need some top goverment level slicers for this kind of job. I'm afraid it's out of my league."

"I understand." Kelvin said. "Very well. Do what you can. Return to engineering."

"Yes, sir. And. . .I'm sorry sir." Stewart said.

Kelvin didn't say anything. He simply nodded and turned away. The door slid shut behind the exiting engineer, and Kelvin sighed, returning to his command chair. He couldn't explain the feeling of dread stealing over him as he stared blankly at holo display of the Olan system. One click of the button, and the blip showing the DarkStar's progression flickered off. "So am I."

Kelvin slowly leaned back in his chair and then swivled to face an aide. "Get me a secure connection to Fleet Commander Dogger. He needs to be informed of the situation."

"Right away, sir!"

"And bring Wing Commander Yatani and Piler to my ready room. It's time we discussed our options."

"Yessir!"

Erebria System

Erebria Prime

Galabagos Quadrant

Epsilon Sector

0630 Hours

"Sir! Please come to control room at once!" The voice of the executive officer, Fleet Admiral Percy sounded distorted by the crackling comm. The sound stabbed like daggers into the head of the vaunted fleet commander of the Intruder Wing. Dogger sat up in his bed and wearily rubbed his eyes and groaned. the last stint in the bar with Dirty Harry had been a little too much for him.

"Now what?" He grumbled and stifled a yawn. His mouth tasted like pasty cotton. He stumbled his way into the refresher and gulped down a glass of cold water, shook his head and put his hands on his temples. A pained expression crossed his face. "What's so important? It's before dawn. You know I don't like to get up before dawn! Especially after being with Dirty Harry."

"I'm sorry sir, but we're receiving an emergency transmission from the MC-120 DarkStar."

"Interesting. What has Kelvin got us into now, I wonder."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. I'll be right down."

"Very good, sir."

Dogger quickly got cleaned up and dressed in his uniform. A quarter of an hour later he arrived in the control room of the POD's ground base near the capital of Erebria Prime. Huge screens covered the wall infront of him. Computer techs and a multitude of top level aides were running to and fro. The entire place was a veritable hive of activity.

"Looks busy." Dogger prefaced as he saluted Admiral Darklord. "What's up?"

"Well sir, we've received an emergency transmission sent via secure transmission. Obviously because of the distance, the message is delayed somewhat. But it looks like the DarkStar's in a bit of a situation. The message says that they're plotted course back to Erebria has somehow shifted. And they're heading straight for the Olan system."

"Indeed." Dogger mused, eyeing the readout. "Well, play the message again."

"Yes, sir. Replaying transmission now." A tech said from his console. He punched in a series of buttons. A holo image showed Vice Admiral Kelvin, sitting in a ready room with Wing Commander Jingo Yatani and Wing Commander Piler. They stood at attention and then Kelvin spoke.

"This is Vice Admiral Kelvin of the MC-120 DarkStar. Our capital ship has been the target of computer sabotage. We've lost all control over our hyperdrive and nav computers. We have reason to believe that we're heading into a trap--"

"That sounds promising." Dogger sighed, his hands clasped behind his back.

"---Our destination is the Olan system. Our estimated time of arrival is in eight hours. We request immediate assistance. Please respond with every available resource!" The breif message ended.

"Well gentlemen?"

"Sir," Fleet Admiral Percy responded. "Relations are, at best, very delicate with the UGR at this point in time. Any aggressive move into their territory could lead to a full out war."

"It seems to me as if they made that choice, Percy." Dogger responded. "They attacked us when we were merely passing through their system. This is why the DarkStar is currently having problems. Because the rebels tried to attack her. Oh, they were clever enough and tried to pass the blame off on pirates in the area. But those ships didn't fight like pirates. There was too much precision involved. But interrogation has means of uncovering the seeming truth from the real truth. They are rebels. Rest assured."

"Very well." Amason said. "But if we go to aid the DarkStar, we stand to lose all that our negotiators have fought for."

"Let the negotiators negotiate and let the fleet do it's job. I will not let the DarkStar simply waltz into a trap because of a the red tape of beaurocracy. I will act, and I will act now."

"Very good sir." Amason said, nodding in acquiescense.

"I want all pilots on alert. The Second Fleet is moving, under the ISD Brittania. Rear Admiral Seltzer, how long before you can assemble the pilots?"

"We can be ready to leave within the hour." Seltzer replied.

"Very Good. See to it. I'll be monitoring your progress from here on Erebria. Seltzer, you'll be in charge of the rescue operation."

"Thank you, sir!" Seltzer was obviously pleased, obtaining an envious glance from the executive officer and Admiral DarkLord

"Gentlemen, I assume you have duties to perform." With that, Dogger turned on his heel and marched from the room.

"He's not in the best mood." Seltzer observed.

"He spent the night in the bar with Dirty Harry." Percy informed him shaking his head.

"Ah." Selzer nodded. "Well, that explains it. For a minute I thought it had something to do with the DarkStar."

 

MC-120 DarkStar

7 hours later

Bridge

Jingo sat on the command chair of the bridge, tapping his fingers on the armrest. His mind was going through the events of the past few hours. The summons to meet with Kelvin in his ready room had awakened him from his slumber on the cold floor of his dormitory. He didn't feel rested, but at least he could function. A short bath in hot water after lunch had helped immensely, but he was stifling a yawn now and then. They were going to exit hyperspace in the hour or so and their strategy was simple. If this was indeed a trap, it was to protect the DarkStar until re-inforcements could come, or until the DarkStar was either captured or destroyed, in which case, all pilots in hyperable craft were to exit the area and return to Erebria. Not much of a plan, but what else was there, what other options were there?

He had told Kelvin in the ready room what he had learned from the night's experience. Well, he didn't go into the details of how he had gained his knowledge. Only that he believed it was a computer virus and that it could spread to other systems if precautions weren't taken. That had people jumping. Stewarts's engineers and slicers had spent the better part of the night working tirelessly on the computers. But so far, to no avail. Knowing that it was a virus had helped somewhat, at least now they knew what to look for. But there was still the problem of the encryption codes that they couldn't break. Jingo stretched and sat up.

Jingo flicked a switch connecting his comm to the hangars. "Wing II, please run system checks on all your fighters. Squadron Commanders make sure your mission specs are understood by each pilot. You will launch in T-58 minutes." He turned off the comm and thought. It wasn't often you knew you were walking into a trap. One would think that such knowledge would enable the trapee with a sense of hope. It didn't. It merely turned them into a shooting moving target. Which, Jingo guessed, was something at least. But still, they had idea what was there. They only prepared for the worst.

What was left of Inferno squadron was armed with heavy proton torpedoes and heavy rockets to counter any capital ship threat. The other squadron were all armed with a double load of advanced concussion missles. Jingo thought back on the night. Who was the Grand Admiral? There were only a few who had gained the vaunted title from Emperor Palpatine himself. Grand Admiral Thrawn, he was one. . . who else? Just then Kelvin entered the bridge.

"Vice Admiral on deck!"

"At ease!" Kelvin barked.

"Sir, you have the bridge." Jingo said formally.

"Thank you, Jingo. What's our status?"

"We exit hyperspace in little under an hour sir."

"Very good. I'll take over from here." Kelvin said. The note of dismissal was plain.

"Sir?"

"We're going to need every available fighter." Kelvin said firmly, not looking at Jingo. "I hear you're one of our best."

"But I thought--"

"Yes, I know we had originally planned to have you onboard the DarkStar, but that won't be the case any longer. Black Squadron needs you and your Wing needs you. Not here, not on the bridge, I have tactical aides, aplenty who can manage the tactical situation of the wings. But for morales sake they need you physically out there." Jingo nodded. "Would you have it any other way?"

"No sir. I wouldn't." Jingo responded, standing straight.

"Very good then. You have your orders." Kelvin said, staring straight ahead out of the viewport. Jingo noted that he looked tired. Like the fate of the entire world rested upon this man's shoulders. "Sir." Jingo stopped. Then continued, not knowing exactly how to phrase this. "I just wanted to say. . ." he found swallowing difficult. "what I'm trying to say is. . . it's been an honor to serve with you." Jingo turned abruptly and quickly made his way to the exit. The door slid open.

"Jingo." Kelvin called turning to face him. A slow smile slit across the Vice Admiral's usually stern face and he gave Jingo a formal salute. "The feeling is mutual. Good hunting out there, Colonel!"

Jingo turned, grinning; he returned a sharp salute, and then ran to grab his flight suit and helmet.

20 minutes later

Hanger Bay Six

"You've got to be kidding me." Baktru said to himself when he saw Jingo jogging into the hanger bay toward the squadron commander's Tie Advanced. Baktru had just climbed the ladder leading to his hatch when he saw the Colonel. "They must be getting desperate if they start putting in command staff into these crates. Especially if what I've heard about this one is true." Baktru knew that something was up. He knew that Command was being unusually secretive about this mission. There was an undercurrent of something about to happen these last forty-eight hours. He was determined to find out.

Jingo had his black flight helmet under one arm and was walking briskly towards his Tie Advanced, he stopped a saluted Inferno squadron as they ran to their X-Wings and then continued. As he neared his ship, Baktru called out to him.

"Hey Jingo! What's up? Are you flying with us on this one?" Baktru wasn't quite sure what this one was. All he knew was that he had orders to get the squadron ready to launch in 20 mintues for another mission. The rumors said it was just another resupply and patrol mission.

"Yes. And I'm happy to do it." Jingo replied, fiddling with one of his flight straps.

"Well, I thought they'd need you on the bridge for this one." Baktru said, helping him clamp the strap into place, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"Not this time." Jingo answered seriously. "VA Kelvin says he wants every available pilot out there defending the DarkStar. That includes me." Jingo met Baktru's gaze.

"This one isn't going to be good is it?" Baktru said, noticing Jingo's unusual reticence.

"I'll debrief in you with the rest of the squadron in five minutes from your cockpits." Jingo said, neatly avoiding the topic.

"Aw come on, Jingo. Tell me truthfully, what's going on?" Baktru pushed.

"Baktru. Get your ship powered up and ready to launch. Inform the squadron that we'll be launching in 15 minutes." With that Jingo turned away and climbed into his cockpit. As the hatch slid shut, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. How could he tell them? How could he tell them that most likely they weren't going home. The entire crew of the DarkStar, minus the bridge, the command staff, and the engineering room, dind't even know they had shifted course. They assumed this was a standard patrol for a standard re-supply at one of the border worlds in New Imperium space. It was Jingo's job to break it to his Wing. Other wing commanders were doing the same. That wasn't going to be easy. He punched up his computer screen, and thought of all they had been through. It simply couldn't end now. Not when they were so close to returning home. So close to finding out who was behind these attacks and what they wanted.

In any case, it didn't matter very much anymore. All their answers would become very clear as soon as they exited that hangar. Well, if it was a trap that is. If it wasn't Jingo couldn't be happier. But the whole thing sure stank of one. They had tried at Volantis and failed there. Or maybe they had only succeeded in making the DarkStar use her hyperdrive. Jingo sighed, then breathed deeply. He wasn't going to let whatever was out there get in the way of his job. He had to be professional. He had to be smart and alert. He powered up the tac net. The pilots were chatting cheerfully about home. Erebria had become the home planet for them all. A resting place. The proverbial hearth upon which one could hang one's sword and enjoy a season of peace. Jingo checked his chronometer. 10 minutes and they would be launching. Time for the pep talk.

"All right pilots. Clear the channels." Jingo began. "I've got some important news." The talking died down and gradually the four squadrons under him became attentive.

"Squadron commanders your role-call status, please?" Jingo asked as usual.

"All is squeaky new here in Inferno. But we're one-hundred percent ready to go." Inferno's squadron commander replied. Inferno had received the most recent batch of recruits on board the DarkStar. The DarkStar contained a huge crew, over 250,000 to man the ship at full efficiency. Among those many were new trainees working on their piloting, gunnery, and tactical skills to prepare them for active duty in the IW's Imperial Navy.

"We check out sir!" reported Legacy commander.

"Roger! All here." Wasp commander said.

"Black's locked and cocked!" Baktru said, standing in for Jingo. Jingo allowed a slight smile.

"Thank you all." Jingo continued. "I know some of you are new pilots. New to your squadrons. For some of you this is your first fight. For some of you this will be your last fight." At the term fight their ears perked up. They weren't expecting a fight. The mood of joviality began to change. "Yes," Jingo continued, "a fight Gentlemen. This mission won't be a minor patrol, or some pleasure cruise as some of you might have initially thought. We'll be fighting for our very survival here."

Some murmering began. "Please, pay attention." Jingo continued. "Time is short. Because of circumstances beyond our control, our hyperspace route has shifted to exit at a New Republic system. The Olan system."

Then the responses came in uninvited and rushed as pilots struggled to be heard and were cut off by others on the Tac net. "But, sir! How can. . ." and "I don't understand . . ." and "What a joke. . ." or "Who's idea was this. . ."

"Pilots! Shut your traps! That's an order!" Jingo barked. The mumering died down, the silence coupled with an undercurrent of anger. "Listen, I don't like this anymore than you do! Aparently someone has been planning a little party that we've been invited to. Whoever it is, has complete control over where we exit hyperspace. We may be walking into a trap."

There was a stunned silence. This was news to most of the pilots who had been toying with the idea of an early leave once they reached Erebria.

"Gentlemen, I must be blunt. Some of you may die this day. We simply have no idea what we're walking into. If this is only some sort of ruse and nothing comes of it, then you'll have something to smile about on later days. But I want you to be prepared for what could happen. There is nothing I can say that will make the knowledge of dying any easier. All I can say is do your best. Do what you've been trained to do and let's go from there.

"Let's try and make it back home together. Look out for each other out there and follow orders. Re-inforcements have been called, but don't count on them arriving to save the day. For now, it's just the DarkStar and the Frigate group.

"Most likely we'll be heavily outgunned and heavily outnumbered. Black and Wasp are in charge of space superiority. Inferno and Legacy are in charge of doing bombing runs on any enemy interdictor craft and other capital ships. You must keep the DarkStar from getting destroyed. And you must clear out any interdictor craft! As soon as the craft are cleared, the DarkStar and her attending frigates will make a run for the nearest hyper-space lane. Are there any questions?" Jingo asked. He didn't think there would be any. A long silence held across the channel as the men and women absorbed what they would be going into.

"Sir," Jingo noticed Baktru's voice. "Black squadron will be with you every step of the way! We won't let you down!"

"Thank you!" Jingo said, warming up his engines. "Squadron commanders run through a final weapons check with your men. Good luck out there. And may the force be with you."

T-5 minuetes and counting. Five minutes between life and death, Jingo noted wryly. How soon a person's life could be snuffed out. He thought of the men in his squadrons of those who were too young to have died. Their lives were cut off in their bloom of youth. Young men and women shot down by the cruelty of war and the bitterness of hate. Jingo didn't have much time to think on it though; the DarkStar lurched out of hyperspace; hundreds of friendly fighters shot out of their hangars. Ships in other hangers shot out into space, into whatever was waiting for them.

"Wing Commander Yatani, your wing has permission to launch!" the controller said.

"Alright, folks. Let's do our jobs! Launch on my command." The engines under him screamed like a banshee out of hell. "Now!".

As one, Conquerer Wing shot out from the large hangars for one purpose, to dance with death among the stars of space.

Sneak Preview of Mission 6