by Jingo Yatani of the IW

September 1999

DarkStar

Outside Fleet Admirals Quarters

Jingo Yatani, Squadron Commander of the Elite Black Squadron, adjusted his grey dress uniform nervously, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had been in some tight battles, dodged blaster bolts, shot down incomming missles, but meeting Fleet Admirals wasn't what Jingo usually did for a living, and he thought the nervous tickling at the back of his throat might cause him to start coughing if he didn't get this over with. This was a first for Jingo; he had never had a one on one meeting with the Fleet Admiral; the closest he had ever got to the man was seeing the orders that showed up on his own desk in the barraks from time to time and in fleet wide news via the IW Holovids. Fleet Admiral Stan was a good man, fair to the pilots and the other officers that served under him. But he could be demanding at times as well. Jingo stood outside the Fleet Admiral's office. Two armed guards stood by the door, their faces impassive behind their storm trooper helmets. Jingo raised his hand to knock, paused, and then resolution took him and he knocked firmly.

"Enter." Fleet Admiral Stan's voice said as the door stood open. The Fleet Admiral was dressed in his workaday uniform and was busily signing papers behind his desk. He didn't look up. Jingo stood as rigid as a board, his hand at attention. The moments passed slowly and the only sound that could be heard was the faint scratching sound of Stan's pen. The large cherry desk the Fleet Admiral sat behind was huge and well polished. Potted plants hung about the room from golden chains of various sizes. The floor was carpeted in a royal red while the blue-silver insignia of the Intruder Wing that was etched in the carpet at the center of the room almost seemed to let off a light of its own. The same insignia hung on the oak wall behind the Admiral and on the front of the desk. Jingo flitted his eyes across the room and he noticed large bookcases on three walls. Above the book cases, hung photographcs. Most showed vrious Imperial cruisers in quiet majesty orbiting around various systems. But what caught his eye was the panoramic view port just to his right. From it Jingo could see the world of Erebria slowly moving across the Viewport as the DarkStar in orbit. Although Jingo wasn't new to the DarkStar, he had never seen a room quite this nice. All of it created a comforting ambience of history, study, and knowledge.

"Enjoying my office?" Admiral Stan asked, smiling pen in hand, catching Jingo off gurad.

"Yes, sir. Err--very nice sir. " Jingo felt the urge to cough.

"At ease, Yatani. No need for such formality."

"Very good, sir." Jingo visibly relaxed.

"Have a seat." Stan motioned to a large cushioned chair on the other side of the desk.

"Thank you." Jingo managed to sit completely in the chair and even leaned back, but he still couldn't feel completely relaxed.

"We'll, you're here. I guess we should get started." He paused, and then pulled a large manilla envelope out of the desk and began smiling. "Lieutenant General Yatani, what would you do if you were Fleet Admiral?" The question completely caught him off guard. Jingo didn't know what to say. He wanted to think of something profound, but nothing would come?

"Sir?" He said to stall for more time.

"What would you do if you were Fleet Commander?" Stan sighed, and stood up idly tapping his other hand with his pen. He went and looked out the viewport to his left; a squadron of TIES swarmed by in a silent scream of space. Stan raised a finger as if to touch space through the thick glass, and then let his hand fall.

"I... uh... " Jingo paused, and then his determination set in. "I would move the Fleet, sir."

"Where? To Vol?" Fleet Admiral Stan continued to look out the viewport; Jingo could sense a certain hardness in his voice.

"Well, it's an idea. But how did you--"

"How did I know?" He turned and faced Jingo angrily and then he began to pace with his hands held behind his back. "Well, it's common talk that the Intruder Wing needs. . . something. Something different. But, by Erebria' Sun, Jingo we're not ready to go to Vol! We've lost too many men to get involved in another conflict. The Ambush at Olan nearly wiped us out." His voice dropped off to a whisper and he looked passed Jingo, staring at the wall. "I remember. I was there. I was Squadron Commander. I lost eighty percent of Lightning Squadron. They came out of nowhere. Hundreds of them. Oh we fought. We fought like a hundred banshees, and gave out much more than we took. But it didn't matter, they just kept coming and coming, and we couldn't get out, curse them-- we couldn't get out! Not again, Yatani. Not again."

"Sir, it wasn't your fault--" Jingo began.

"But it could be. And it would be. This time it would be." Stan answered almost snarling. And then his voice softened into a quiet almost sad whisper. "Curse it, Jingo! I want to do something. I want to do it as much as anyone. . . but there's too much to risk."

"Great men take risks"

"I don't care about being great." Stan said tiredly, giving Jingo a hard glance. "I care about my pilots. These hundreds of thousands of people under me. One wrong move at the wrong place again and we're bantha fodder."

"I understand sir." Jingo said, but then something caught him and he rose from his seat, passion filling his voice. "But we must do something. Moral is low. And there's talk. Talk that the Intruder Wing is dying. Sir they need to feel used. I'm telling you what you already know. The men can run drills all day long. They can compete in the simulators, but they need something more than all that. They need to sacrifice."

"By Erebrias sun, Jingo, you sound like a bloody krath priest." Stan looked at him and grinned. "All you lack is the blood and the altar. From what it sounds like the blood of the IW's pilots and the altar of Vol might just very well do."

"But it's true, sir. And you know it. You were there in the academy. They taught sacrifice. Not for some personal gain or selfish honor. But to sacrifice for what you believe in. For freedom. For patriotism. For a cause greater than one's self. That's what they need. That's what we all need."

"So we go start some silly boarder conflict on such a flimsy principle as this?"

"It's not flimsy sir. And it's not silly. It's merely untried at the moment. Besides, the conflict has already begun. The United Galactic Republic and the New Imperium had at it over Vosam. The New Imperium was lucky there.

"The New Imperium" Stan growled. "A bunch of squabbling politicians made up from a myriad of disunified factions. Bah! They're nothing!"

"Nevertheless, sir. They're all we've got. They are our allies."

"But they're useless!" Stan said sourly. "They don't do a thing."

"Apparently no longer. And they aren't completely useless. You must admit the New Imperium's form of government is superior to COMPNOR or the pirate fleets out in the rim. Many systems have prospered under the New Imperium."

"Yes, yes. I concede the point." Stan said sitting back down in his chair. "Better than pirates? Hah. I doubt it, they never came to our aid at the Ambush of Olan!"

"I know." Jingo sighed, sitting back in his own chair. He remembered that fateful battle all too well. He had been there as Black Squadron Commander, flying in the same battle as the Fleet Admiral himself. Jingo had lost a his entire squadron. Only he and Colonel Baktru had made it out alive. It seemed so long ago talking about it like this. So much had changed with their deaths. "I know. But the New Imperium had their own problems back then."

"Why should we go and help in this conflict? What do we have to gain?" Stan asked, looking at the manilla folder on his desk. Then he leaned back in his chair watching Jingo closely.

"Two things, sir." Jingo said quietly. "One, we'll win a system for the New Imperium, possibly the Intruder Wing itself. But more improtantly, we'll win unity."

"So, Yatani, in the names of sacrifice and unity you will throw the pilots into the maws of this conflict?"

"No, sir. I won't. You will. You are Fleet Admiral. It is not my choice. But if they chose to go. . ." Jingo paused letting his voice fade and his eyes met Stan's. There was no doubt about his decision.

"--You would gladly go with them. Yes I can see it in your eyes and I can feel it in your words. Would that I had your conviction to the New Imperium. You are dedicated, Yatani. I'll give you that. And as much as it irks me, you are right about sacrifice." Stans voice changed as if accepting some finality. "Yes, you are dedicated and maybe foolish. But you are the one for the job. That is plainly seen."

"Sir?" Jingo wasn't sure what Stan meant by that. Job?

"Here. Read this." Stan pushed the manilla envelope over to Jingo. Stan's face was impassive and serious.

"What is it?" Jingo asked hefting the envelope. Papers no doubt. Some new order maybe?

"Open it." Stan commanded. Jingo complied, he slowly lifted the top flap of the envelope and pulled out the top sheet and began to read in a whisper."

"To Lt. Gen. Jingo Yatani, Black Squadron commander, Dogger Wing, MC-120 DarkStar, IW Strike Fleet. Having noted your many accomplishments in your service as Black Squadrom Commander, it is with great confidence that I, Fleet Admiral Stan of the Intruder Wing Strike Force, give you. . . " Jingo's voice trailed off in silence as his ever widening eyes continued reading.

"Do you...?" Jingo asked still reading, his hands trembling. "Do you know what this. . .?"

"Do I know what it says? But of course, Admiral Yatani. I wrote up and signed those promotion papers myself. Congratulations! Now the DarkStar is truly your home, Commodore." Stan extended his hand which Jingo shook somewhat shakenly.

"What? Commodore? But--"

"I said you're the Commodore of the DarkStar." Stan rose from his desk chuckling.

"But it's the--"

"Yes. It is the Flagship of the IW."

"But, what about Black--"

"Yatani!" Stan growled happily, a large smile splitting his face "Stop acting like a parrot. It's very bad form. And it's definitely not the way to run the IW's Flagship. Much less a campaign." Stan was grinning ear from ear.

"Campaign?" Jingo looked back down at the orders and there it was stated clearly. Barring any unforeen circumstances, I give you full operational authority to take Taskforce DarkStar to aid the NI and the VE in their cause against the UGR.. He stopped reading and looked up. "But then you knew all along that I was for going to Vol and assisting the Vast--"

"I'm not stupid Yatani. Yes I knew all along. You're as open as a book and your TacNet conversations with Black Squadron are less private."

"Yes sir!" Jingo was stunned. This wasn't what he had expected. Never from the beginning did he expect all of this. "But if you were going to promote me, give me this position, why this show?"

"This was no show, Yatani." Stan was dead serious, looking Jingo hard in the eye. All smiles had faded. "I had to test you. I wanted to know if I had someone truly dedicated. I know you're a good pilot, and a good squadron commander. I wanted to know if I could entrust the lives of these men into your care. I pray that I have not made the wrong choice." There was a long moment of silence.

"You haven't sir. I'll do all I can to aid the IW."

"Very good then, Rear Admiral. Pick your replacement for Black Squadron and then select the ships you'll need to accompany the DarkStar. Let's get this campaign underway."

"Yes, sir!" Jingo grinned, hardly believing this recent change of events. The IW was going to Vol. They were finally going!

"Dismissed, Admiral" Stan saluted. And Jingo turned to go. Stan said one last thing as the doors slid open. "Oh and your new uniform has been delivered to your quarters. You start immediately." The doors slid shut with a hiss of reality.