For those who may not already know, I happen to work at a local hobby shop as my "day job". It's a pretty good gig and it's fun to always be surrounded with tabletop, board, and card games of all colors. Full-time school and part-time work is enough to keep me pretty busy and so I rarely have time to partake like I used to. But being able to come to work and be around the geeky universe helps keep me a little saner.
One of the games we host a game night for is called 'X-Wing'. It's essentially a quick paced aerial (space) combat game where you can play as Star Wars Imperial or Rebel fighters in the midst of a dogfight. A new edition recently launched and so I worked with our owner to help come up with material for a narrative campaign that players could participate in, week to week, for five weeks total. The results of the games played would have an influence on how the fictional battles would play out. Each week I will be tallying up wins and losses and then writing some quick blurbs to show the progress of the factions in the campaign.
I am not a big Star Wars fan. There are parts of the universe that I like (lots of world building outside the films is interesting, for example) but I struggle with taking the films seriously at all. What follows, however, is my attempt to dip a metaphorical toe into the chaotic waters of the SW Universe. Thus, none of this is copyrighted or controlled by me, it's all stored here so that others can simply enjoy it. Special thanks to Paul Regina and Scott Blanton for their work in revising these passages for SW Universal 'Compliance'. And of course to my writing group buddies, Laura & Nik, for making sure it's all up to snuff to begin with.
THE BATTLE FOR UMBRA STATION: An X-Wing 2.0 Narrative League
Fictional Summary
Umbra Station is a heavily shielded Imperial Base located within the formidable void territory known as ‘The Maw’. Located near the northeastern rim of the nebulae, Umbra Station floats dead center in the midst of one of the very few navigable ‘highways’ through the dangerous cluster of black holes. Often referred to as an Imperial version of the infamous “Kessel Run”, the Umbra Pathway provides a relatively safe shortcut (for Imperial-friendly shipping) through a small northern section of the Maw. When threatened, Umbra Station wields a robust shielding system stronger than most capital ships. Because of relatively small size of the Umbra Pathway where the station is located, Umbra Station effectively controls the entire pathway and rarely faces any serious threats (besides the friendly local terrain). However, in a strange astronomical twist of fate, the singularities that surround the Umbra Pathway and Umbra Station have an ‘off’ season. Every four years, for the span of about three standard weeks, ships can approach the station safely through the Maw. While the rare pirate raid has been documented during these ‘dark’ seasons, the Imperial Forces expect little difference in their usual, boring routines. This particular season, however, the Rebel Alliance has caught wind of the upcoming opportunity. Assuming they can take the station before this sector of the Maw returns to full force, they can disrupt Imperial shipping or even gain a safe staging area in this sector of the galaxy, albeit somewhat strategically limited. Regardless, the disruption and economic loss from seizing such an asset from the Empire is worth the effort.
All that said, the universe seems to have a dark sense of humor. Or at least a flair for the dramatic. For during the Umbra Pathway’s so-called ‘dark season’ another stellar event of interest will occur, specifically the phenomenon colloquially known as ‘The Dragon’s Breath’. The Dragon’s Breath is a notably large scale asteroid field with a (relatively) fast moving trajectory. But to call it an asteroid field is to understate its true nature. The Dragon’s Breath is a collection of asteroids, shattered planetoids and debris from untold hundreds of space faring civilizations. Because of the large amount of debris collected from sentient races, navigating the field is notoriously unreliable - automated defensive weapons long thought defunct reactivate and fire at trespassers, fuel storage tanks detonate without warning or prompting. The phenomenon is responsible for the destruction of dozens of fleets and several (formerly) populated planets. Many civilizations have sunk or swim beneath its incredible destructive force, evacuating in time only to see their cradle world destroyed or failing to do before it arrived. Normally even a relatively large asteroid field would have to been extremely ‘lucky’ to encounter more than one civilized sector in its trajectory. But the sheer scale of its reach is truly massive, even speaking in stellar relatives. As well, more than once the ‘Breath’ has clashed against large systems or other great masses, added to its own debris, and splintered off - the main body headed in one direction while new waves of debris breakaway to forge their own legacies of destruction. That this body of the Dragon’s Breath happens to be intersecting with this region of space at this exact time is an event of nearly incalculable odds. It remains to be seen whether this will hinder or help the rebel attempts to wrest Umbra Station from the hands of the Empire.
LEAGUE FICTION:
Week Zero/Prologue:
Rebel Alliance - Acting Flight Lieutenant Neela Tashi
Stale air.
That was always what Acting Flight-Lieutenant Neela Tashi thought of whenever she took a fighter out of hyperspace. Not that dropping out made it smell any better, but it meant she was that much closer to breathing real, honest-to-goodness air. Days in hyperspace transit meant the oxygen supply she had started with had been recycled many times over. There was supposed to be a planet near the rendezvous point with useable oxygen in its atmosphere but she’d look into that later.
First was the job.
“Report In,” her alto voice called out across the shortwave - calm and collected. The others should have come in just seconds behind her.
“Wampa-Three, ready and able.”
“Wampa-Two, reporting.”
“Wampa-Four. Feeling lonely six?”
“Wampa-Six, only if all the real men are dead.”
And on they went. A little part of her died inside every time she heard their squad’s new designation. Tashi hadn’t chosen it. Last minute drunk and disorderly charges had moved Lieutenant Jakes to rack room duty and Tashi right up to the glorious Acting Flight Lieutenant of the Rebellion’s “Stompin’ Wampas”. Heroically named for the resident apex predator of the new system the rebellion had been growing roots on. She had seen a vid of one of the beasts when some rebel scouts had taken one down in the wild. It looked as bad as it probably smelled. And it looked like it smelled a lot.
Tashi technically had all the powers of a normal flight lieutenant, but the squad designation had already been committed to paper for the operation. That, and the fact that the rest of Jakes’s rowdy bunch loved it. When Tashi had first showed up in the barracks to greet them, she had implied (or rather, very directly stated) that much would change in the squad. Gutter humor, lack of discipline, it all was about to go out the airlock - starting with that atrocious moniker left behind by their beloved Jakes. Tashi had been forced to grudgingly admit to herself that that may have been a mistake. She had awoken the next morning to find the outside of her cabin door covered in a particularly anatomically correct rendering of a Wampa below a child-like scrawl that read ‘Stompin Wampas, Eastern Fleet.’
Maybe she had come on a little strong.
She would have to take a more subtle approach. Neela Tashi was not good with subtle. For now, she’d have to lead with her usual ‘direct’ methods while she figured out a way to “win their respect” or whatever the hell it was. Feelings and all. For now, authority and fear of reprisal would have to do where devotion and duty should be.
“Wampas, cut the mouth flapping. We’ve got work to do before Jester and Azure arrive.”
She cut off Wampa-Six in the middle of an impressive description of his ‘terrible
loneliness’ on their long hyper-flight.
“Run maintenance checks and prepare for engagement in ten. We’re going to let the Empire know we’re here.”
In direct violation of her orders the ever reliable Stompin’ Wampas whooped and hollered their excitement over the waves. She decided, for once, not to correct them.
Galactic Empire - Captain Tracton Thorn
“Ma’am, I may have something here.”
“What is it Ensign Trell?” Captain Maya Vall of the 5th Imperial Fleet strode calmly but firmly towards the Tactical station.
“I’ve got three small contacts coming out from the shadow of the gas giant...here.”
Ensign Trell gestured to his display, Vall had come up from Tactical herself, Trell knewher background and didn’t waste time overexplaining.
“Register as friendly, ma’am. But not from the 5th Fleet.”
“Lieutenant Malcolm, please confirm the ship had no fighter training scheduled today.”
“Confirmed, ma’am. All our flights are home.”
“Very well,’ she stated, ‘Have one our flights prepped and waiting. Hold for my command.”
Malcolm returned to his chair and began passing on the orders. Vall leaned back down over the Ensign’s shoulder, now more curious than wary.
“Close enough for a visual now, ma’am,” he said as he pulled up the window - she could make out the form of three Imperial fighters. Two TIE Fighters, one with significant battle damage, and a single Interceptor leading them.
“Magnify the lead fighter,” she said. Her fingers itched to reach out and just do it herself, it would have been faster. But a Captain was supposed to have people do things for her, so she let Trell work.
The image was grainy but clear enough for her to catch a hint of dark green paint on the lead fighter. Her heart caught in her throat. She kept her expression calm and tight. As she stood and began walking to her conference room she called out to her Exec, “Lieutenant, when they open a channel to us forward it to my conference room. Primary Level Encryption.”
“Understood,” he said. His expression made it clear he didn’t but like any exec worth their salt, he kept those concerns to himself.
Captain Vall stepped into her conference room a few seconds later. She made sure the door slid home behind her and hit the command panel on the wall to lock it.
As she sat down alone at the head of the table, she saw the blinking light that indicated a communications channel open and waiting for attention…
-----------------------------
“Maya? Is that you? Gods above it’s good to see your face.”
Captain Tracton Thorn was pleased at least that he had provoked something of a smile from her. He was unsure if finding Maya here was a godsend or the universe getting back at him. After several days of fruitless searching for friendly traffic though, seeing someone he knew flooded him with relief. This cockpit was too small for his overlarge frame - his neck burned something fierce from scrunching his spine for so long.
“Thorn, what are you doing out here?” she asked.
Through the tiny view screen on his fighter console, her grainy face showed concern, but also suspicion. He’d have to be careful. Play his cards just right and not let her ask too many questions.
“Remember that assignment I couldn’t tell you about?”
“I remember. You said something about escort duty for pirates. That was the cover anyway.”
“Ah, yes,’ that story had seemed like such a good idea at the time, ‘well, it went all kinds of sideways. I...if I can’t make this right…” He let his words dangle. Imperial officers who failed as spectacularly as he had had a tendency to disappear. He did not want to find out where they went.
“Where’s your ship Tracton?” Using his first name again. She must have figured out how sorry his state really was.
“It’s gone, Maya. Worst luck I’ve ever heard of, I swear it. Fended off a pirate attack just in time to get hit by rebels.”
That was close enough to the real story anyway, no need to get on her bad side. Much of his current plan depended on her thinking fondly of him. Very fondly.
“Maya, I need you. I may not make it out of this if you don’t help me.”
Surprisingly, he the slightest twinge of guilt. Must be getting soft in his middle age, he thought. But it was this or return to Fleet Headquarters with a future darker than the void.
“We can patch you up. Take you back- “
“No! No. I mean, thank you. That’s...I would appreciate it. But I need something else too.”
“Tracton, this is...I don’t have any information here. You know Imperial Protocols.”
He curled his fists offscreen. He wasn’t asking for the world here. And damn it all if he hit his head on the bulkhead ceiling one more time-
“I know. I know. I just need a patch-up and a ride. I’ve got two more flights out searching for help, they’ll need work too.”
“Okay,’ she said, clearly frustrated, ‘where do you need to go?”
“We descrambled a transmission from the rebels after they hit us. If I have a shot at getting out of this, I’ve got to hit them back to make this right. Ever heard of a place called Umbra Station?”