A view from the cockpit

[will_marx 0]

The waiting was beginning to aggravate Marx. Granted, they had nothing to do but wait until the TIE bombers finished their most recent run. Loudspeakers were tied into the communications channels with the normally unmanned outposts. However, since the arrival of the probe droid, and subsequent arrival of the 4557th Blockade Squadron, the need for secrecy was long gone. Colonel Spacely had the outposts manned, weapons batteries charging—including the most significant piece of hardware, a KDY v-150 Planet Defender ion cannon. It was the only other one in the Rebel’s inventory, after the one that self-destructed on Hoth. It too was also manned by survivors of Alderaan’s destruction.

 

Aggravating as the wait was, Marx did also take time to have R4 show him where all the controls he needed were; like the repulsorlifts, the weapons controls, throttles, ejection system.

 

“Imperial walkers spotted outside the perimeter. Imperial walkers spotted…” The communications with that outpost ended in a wash of static.

 

“All flight crews, prepare for launch. All flight crews prepare for launch.”

 

“We are opening the hangar doors.”

 

Dust and rocks were falling from the ceiling, as concussion bombs dropped from the TIE bombers overhead. Structural supports were beginning to overstress from the constant bombardment. With a “twang” several supports in the cavern where the Yves St. Laurent was located failed. Tons of rocks and debris showered down, sealing the Federation yacht off from the rest of the base.

 

“Blue Squad, launch; and may the Force be with you,” Spacely said from the control room.

 

“Roger that. Good luck to you.” Marx changed frequencies. “Blue Squad, launch.” Marx added power to his repulsorlifts, climbed a few feet into the air, and was guided into the launch tubes by Rebel ground personnel with wands. He accelerated out of the tube and straight into the first wave of TIE fighters. “Blues: break and attack as soon as you clear the launch tubes. Lock S-foils into attack position, full power to shields. Cleared to engage. Blue Leader, engaging!” Just meters out of the launch tube, he ran smack into a TIE fighter…literally. The fragile Imperial starfighter couldn’t handle the impact of the heavier Rebel fighter and exploded into fragments. The other fifteen fighters cleared the launch tubes, and began engaging the Imperials at will. Red laser bolts crossed green, filling the sky with a deadly lightshow.

 

Banking around, Marx strafed another TIE that crossed into his sights, blowing a wing off. The Imperial fighter spun out of control, into the side of a mountain. Green Squadron cleared their tubes, and the Y-wings began their attack runs on the Imperial walkers that the Warspite had deployed. The heavily armored AT-ATs, designed to withstand blaster fire, were being decimated by the lasers and ion cannons from the Rebel fighter-bombers.

 

“Sar, this is the Yves St. Laurent. We’ve launched. And need escort immediately,” CSM Jackson’s voice could be heard over the comm net. Marx spared a bare moment to observe the yacht go screaming across the countryside at extremely low altitude.

 

“Blue Three Flight, Blue Four Flight, escort the Yves St. Laurent. Blue Two Flight, Blue One Flight, we’re going to draw the TIEs away from them.” Short replies and clicks over the net indicated that the various flight leaders understood their missions. Half of Blue Squadron split off, escorting the yacht; the other half remained with Marx and engaged the Imperial forces.

 

“Attention all fighters. New contacts coming in at point 75, Angels 100, and descending rapidly. Profile indicative of Interceptors. Red Squad launch.”

 

“Blue One, Blue Two Flights, climb and intercept,” Marx ordered, as he racked his X-wing around in a tight climbing turn.

 

Green Squadron began engaging the standard TIE fighters, allowing the first of several Rebel transports begin launch. These were coupled with several volleys from the ion cannon. For all the evasive maneuvers that the VSD Monarch did, she still managed to get tagged by a couple of times, shorting out her entire electrical system.

 

 

 

The advantage in this fight lay with the Rebels, since the X-wings of Red and Blue Squadrons had aerodynamics on their side, both in design and for the simple fact that the wings of the Incom snubfighters were actual wings, unlike the wings on all classes of the TIE fighter. The Interceptors came screaming out of space, like bats out of hell, and into a tight volley of fire from Blue Squad. Several of the squints got hit, turning into either fireballs or the starfighter equivalent of cannonballs. The return fire from Imperials managed to penetrate several shields and kill or damage four X-wings.

 

The fight degenerated into a World War Two style furball, snubfighters firing on each other when they had a clean shot. One squint pilot proved to be exceptionally skilled, downing two more X-wings, leaving just Marx and his wingman, as Red Squadron moved into position to assist. Doing a repulsorlift bounce, Marx got behind the squint chasing him, and opened fire. At the last minute, the Interceptor evaded, and tried to make a break for it. Marx kept on his tail, wingtip lasers firing.

 

The ion cannon fired again, this time smacking the Valiant square in her ventral keel. The Interdictor’s gravity wells dropped offline, allowing the Rebel ships that had already launched jump to lightspeed. “Marx, quit playing and form on us. We want to go home.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Marx replied, as he kept pumping megajoules of energy out at the Interceptor. “Die, you son of a bitch!”

 

The Yves St. Laurent sped past the Interceptor, phasers firing. The Imperial snubfighter bore the full brunt of the fire and exploded into a small, self-feeding fireball of plasma. “Damnit, sir. That was my kill!” Marx said, protesting.

 

“WE want to go home, Lieutenant,” Lo’Ami replied.

 

“Roger, sir. Blue Squadron, form on me. As soon as we clear the planet, jump to lightspeed to your rendezvous.” As the formation of 4 X-wings and one Starfleet yacht cleared the atmosphere, Marx looked at the two largest ships nearby. The Monarch had just finished stabilizing her orbit, but that was about it. Her weapons systems were still down, couplers blown throughout the ship. The Valiant was in an even worse state, lights flickering throughout the length of the heavy cruiser, engines offline. “Blue Squad, who’s got proton torpedoes?” There were three replies from his wingmen. “Switch to proton torps, and lock on to her bridge structure. This’ll give us a better chance to get away. When you get a tone, switch to double fire, and launch.”

 

The four Rebel snubfighters kept close formation as the closed on the crippled heavy cruiser, the distance scrolling down rapidly. As soon as they were well within range, eight proton torpedoes streaked towards their target, and impacted on the bridge of the Interdictor. The transparisteel viewports failed after the first torpedo hit it. The subsequent torpedoes exploded within the hull of the ship, destroying her command center. With all command and control destroyed, the 500m long warship began her final descent into the planet’s gravity well and then atmosphere, out of control and escape pods launching. A tremendous eruption spouted from the planet’s surface, ejecting rock, lava, and debris into the atmosphere and into near-planetary space.

 

“Blue Squadron, cleared to disengage. Yves St. Laurent, let’s go home.”