We've had a really great showing at the shop for the X-Wing League, which is awesome. I am always grateful when our players choose to be a part of our community like that. It also helps me feel more motivated to produce good work since at least a few of them might be reading through it.
Week One had an even showing, more or less, for results. Rebels technically pulled ahead a little but not decisively. They also had a numeric advantage that has been largely eliminated with a couple new Empire players joining up in Week 2. So in the fiction this week, we're still in the opening moves so to speak. Looking forward to seeing one of the sides pull ahead (or not?)!
This week's piece is a little shorter, but next week's should be longer to compensate. Cue story -
LEAGUE FICTION:
Week Two:
Galactic Empire - Captain Tracton Thorn
“How certain about you about this information, Thorn?’ Umbra Station’s Captain Grythe asked for what must have been the third time.
“Very. You doubt Imperial Intelligence?”
The implication of course being that Captain Thorn was, or knew someone, in Imperial Intelligence, which was decidedly untrue. But he’d begged, borrowed and lied his way this far. His career, and mostly likely his life, were hanging in the balance. Misleading superior or fellow officers (or in this case, a clearly inferior officer) were just more footnotes in a long list of infractions they’d hang around his neck if he didn’t pull this off. And even then.
Captain Grythe grudgingly moved away, conversing with some of his staff over the potential engagement.
“I hope I’m sure, anyway,” he said quietly, exhaling slowly. His tightened fists loosened. Thorn would never stand for that kind of questioning normally but Grythe was technically of equal rank. And he needed the man’s cooperation, at least for now.
The noise from the captain and the crew died away as they exited the corridor Thorn stood in. One wall of the corridor was made entirely of transparisteel; the low lighting along the floor kept the reflection to a minimum to enhance the view. Thorn was forced to admit, despite the predicament he found himself in, the view was truly magnificent.
Tracton Thorn had greater ambitions than being in charge of such an isolated and largely irrelevant posting like Umbra Station, but a part of him could understand the appeal. Getting paid to live comfortably, if simply, in an out-of-the-way posting with a front row seat to the galaxy’s most turbulent sector. Hell, if he had a girl or two like Maya around…
Maya.
Why did he keep thinking of her? And why in the hell was he worried about the potential fallout for her own career? That woman was locked on. And smart. Smart enough to leave him behind when it became clear he was only interested in diversions. Where Tracton was a career gambler, using risk to advance himself, Maya was the ‘real deal.’ Every bit the Imperial Officer the recruiters lauded.
The thought was foreign, unexpected, but it made him smile. Just what if he got himself a posting like this one? His career essentially over but he could at least live comfortably. Emphasis on ‘live.’ Would Maya even let herself be tethered to someone like that? He tried to imagine it, maybe even getting a posting planetside somewhere. Maturing. He almost laughed at the idea of a family of any kind…
But his thoughts came to a halt when he caught the distinctive flash of a hyperspace jump, specifically an arrival. No bigger than a pinprick, but against the dark hues of the Maw it stuck out like a flare.
Then another. And another.
They were here.
Station alert sirens rang out, the klaxons drowning out his growing laughter. A tide of sweet relief washed over him. Those thrice-cursed rebels were here and he had been right.
They may have destroyed his ship and threatened his career, but now he was going to turn that around and get himself even further up the Imperial ladder. Today was looking better and better.
And on top of it all, he was going to kill himself some rebel scum. What more could a man ask for?
Rebel Alliance - Acting Flight Lieutenant Neela Tashi
“Wampas, lock X-foils in attack position,’ Neela ordered over the comms. She still cringed whenever she had to use that moniker.
While most of Wampa Squad complied quietly, Wampa-Four’s voice came on unabashedly, mimicking the sound of X-Wing foils from inside a cockpit.
“SHBEEEEEE, POH.”
Neela muted her mic while she choked down laughter. It actually was a near perfect likeness of the sound, though she didn’t remember Wampa-Four having X-Wing experience in his file.
“Can it, Wampa-Four! Or you’re grounded on our next sortie.”
It was a good thing the squad couldn’t see her smiling while she said it.
Wampa-Four flew one of Wampa Flight’s unglamorous Y-Wing bombers. Most Y-Wing pilots were chosen for their even temperaments, the job requiring a steady nerve and mature risk assessment. Wampa-Four had exactly none of those attributes.
Being assigned a Y-Wing was probably Rebel Flight Training’s way of protecting his future squadmates from him.
Wampa Squadron had been assigned two Y-Wing bombers “just in case” the need for them arose. In truth, Wampa-Four and Wampa-Six had done well in maiming that Imperial Raider Corvette they had caught unawares. But Neela still had concerns.
“Yes si- Uh, ma’am.” Wampa-Four’s voice answered back, now that his ‘foils’ had finished their transition.
She rolled her eyes and carried on, ‘Jester and Azure will be here any second. Let’s light the place up.”
At they entered engagement range of the station and the enemy TIE’s began launching, her eyes flickered over to the chrono-countdown on the upper right corner of her console. Four minutes before the leading edge of the Dragon’s Breath arrived.
After that it would get a lot more complicated.