In The Line Of Duty

By: Corey Mathis

Chapter 1

[from sim with Mike=Mike, Jagged=Corey, Corran=Chris, Wes=Alison, Dana=Dana, Fenig=Leah, Cracken=Corey, Gavin=Isa]

As Major Mike Ngo walked into the briefing room he saw the rest of his squadmates already in their seats. Mike walked down the steps in the center of the room nodding to his new wingmate Officer Shawn Lovelett as he went. The Corellian Major took a seat in the middle of a row of chairs. Mike looked around more and was shocked to see Fenig Durak, the new squadron mechanic, in the briefing room. He saw his look of shock and puzzlement mirrored on her face and he could tell she had no idea why she was in the room either.

A rustling near the front of the room dragged Mike’s attention from the back of the room to the front. He saw Colonel’s Hobbie Klivian and Wes Janson sitting at a large desk. The rustling he heard was from Wes leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk. Hobbie, not paying attention to Wes, stood up to address the band of pilots.

“Glad to see you all decided to favor us with your presence. Sit tight and listen to what Cracken has to say,” Hobbie said motioning to the transparent, blue holo image of General Cracken which Mike had not noticed when he walked in. Hobbie sat back down as to not take any of the pilot’s attention away from the general, as he did so he quickly jabbed Wes in his ribs. Which prompted a return blow from Wes and a smirk.

“Good morning pilots. Glad to see you all doing well,” the gray haired General said.

Hobbie leaned close to Wes and whispered, “Pay attention.”

“Do I ever?” the comic whispered back. Mike shifted in his chair impatiently, wishing the General would get to the point.

“There’s some trouble in the Abaddon system,” the general said over the whispering of the squadron’s leaders. “A few civilian’s visiting the Abaddon system have reported a high amount of imperial activity.” Mike saw Hobbie raise and eyebrow as Cracken informed them about what was going on and he could tell that this was the first time his commanding officer was hearing the briefing.

Civilians, Mike thought, meaning crack field agents from the NR intelligence no doubt.

“They’re blockading a planet in the system. Nothing is getting in and nothing is getting out,” the General continued.

Wes heard Hobbie mutter, “Wonderful.”

“But that’s the least of our problems,” Cracken said.

Of course, Hobbie thought. He knew that whenever Cracken was involved life usually gets interesting, too interesting. Mike blinked at Cracken’s last comment. He wondered how everything being shot down was the least of their worries.

Cracken went on, “There’s an Imperial base in the middle of a mountain range on the only inhabitable planet in the system. The civs say that it’s some kind of mass sensor station and biological weapons site.”

“Bio-weapons.” The words escaped Mike’s mind and came out of his mouth in a low murmur.

“The local Imperial fleet is able to jump to any ship or ships and shoot them down in six point five minutes. They use a slingshot maneuver around the planet to get where they need quickly. We’re planning to send in a fleet of our own to engage the Imperial fleet, but with the presence of bio weapons the Imperials are sure to threaten to fire a bio weapon if we didn’t stand down. They’d use the millions of people the bio weapons would kill as a shield.

The words ‘suicide mission, lets send the rogues’ entered Hobbie’s mind.

“We need you to fly in the planet and disable the sensors and weapons. You’re the only group who might be able to out fly the blockade,” Cracken said.

Finally, some action worth of the Rogues, Mike thought. The General from Contruum went on, “We’ll be sending most of you on a freighter, and a few of you as an escort.”

This time it was Wes who leaned in to whisper to Hobbie, “Dibs on the freighter.”

“Colonel Horn will lead the escort group as Red 1. Colonel Fel, Major Ngo, and Major Darklighter will fly as two, three, and four respectively. Colonels Klivian and Janson will fly the freighter. The rest of you will ride in the freighter manning the turrets.”

Janson leaned back in and Hobbie knew what he was going to say, “I hate to say it but I’m flying."

“We’ll flip for it,” Hobbie whispered back.

“I don’t think there’s a friendly bacta tank on the planet. I’m flying,” Janson said matter-of-factly.

Cracken glanced over at the two leaders but went on. “If you arrive on the planet you will be met by one of the civs and he will brief you further. Questions?” Dana Hogan and Fenig Durak quickly put their hands into the air.

“Ms. Hogan?” the General asked.

“Yeah, what sort of planetary defense grid do you think they’ll have? Will we be facing ground-to-air lasers and fighters, or what?” Dana asked.

“The planet has no ground-to-air defenses. You’ll just have to worry about the seven squadrons attached to the fleet,” the General’s eyes shifted from Dana to Fenig, “Ms. Durak?”

Fenig frowned still puzzled, “Why am I here? I’m just a mechanic.” While Fenig was talking Wes raised his hand.

“We need you to make repairs to the freighter on its way in, and also you’re the only one who knows enough about mechanics to disable the weapons,” the General replied.

Fenig blinked a little shocked at his words, “What will I be disabling?”

“The bio weapons,” Cracken said as if it were nothing.

“Understood,” was Fenig’s only reply. After thinking a moment Mike raised his hand in the air to join Janson’s.

“Colonel Janson?” the General asked going in order.

“We’re not carrying Wraiths, right?” Janson asked worriedly.

“That is correct. The Wraiths are on another cover mission. Major Ngo?”

“About fuel and munitions for our snub fighters. This sounds like it’s going to be an extended operation. Any plans for re-supply during the mission or are we expected to conserve?” the black haired pilot asked.

“If you make it planet side and are able to shut down that base Admiral Ackbar will bring his fleet in quickly after it is disabled. You will be picked up then. The freighter will hold the food and weapons you may need,” the head of Intelligence said. Mike nodded and slouched back in his seat. “Is that it?”

Fenig’s words floated to Cracken from the back of the room, “What if the base isn’t shut down?”

“That base has to be shut down no matter the cost. Millions of innocent lives are at stake,” was the General’s reply.

And there, gentlemen, is the key phrase, Mike thought to himself.

Shuffling could be heard from the briefing room and Mike could tell that everyone was ready to leave. Then Wes’ voice drowned out the shuffling, “We getting intel pay or snub jockey pay?”

“Needless to say Colonel Janson if you make it back you will get more than your average pay,” Cracken responded.

Janson grinned as he took the General’s words in. Then Hobbie leaned in and whispered, “Good cause you still owe me.”

Wes’ grin quickly faded, “For what?”

“Three hundred creds for getting you out of the brig when you decided to go AWOL,” Hobbie replied again in a whisper.

“Na uh, I did all the extra paper work for you in return,” Janson whispered.

The General’s voice cut them off, “Those of you flying as escort are basically unimportant to the infiltration mission. You’re primary goal is to get the freighter planet side.”

Before the General could say more Mike cleared his throat and asked, “What are the escorts expected to do after the freighter makes it on-site?”

“If any escort makes it they will follow the freighter to the landing zone,” Cracken replied.

Mike blinked nervously at the General’s comment then managed to say, “Okay.”

“Computer estimates a seventy-five percent casualty rate of the escort. However our computers don’t know how to factor in the luck that seems to follow you,” the old general informed them. Hobbie’s skin became pale at the mention of those numbers but he managed to keep a straight face. “That’s all I have for you. The rest of the briefing will come if you get planet side. Good luck Rogue Squadron. I hope to see at least most of you soon.” With that Cracken’s holo faded leaving the Rogues alone in the briefing room.

“I think Cracken should get into motivational speaking,” Janson said before anyone else could talk.

Dana’s voice quickly followed, “He’d make a good narrator…for a tragedy.

“Well hey, there’s worse jobs out there. We can be sitting in cubicles all day long staring at a computer screen,” Mike chimed in while wondering if he was suicidal for getting in this business.

Hobbie stood up from behind his desk and tried to look authoritative, “Alright everyone, it’s show time. Get to your fighters and freighter.”

Wes stood up next to Hobbie, “I’m still flying.”

“I don’t have the strength to argue with you right now Wes. You can go right ahead and do so,” Hobbie told him as he was leaving the room.

“Come on guys, road trip!” Wes yelled. “First one in the bacta tank buys dinner for the rest.” With that Wes took off after Hobbie and draped an arm around his shoulder. As Hobbie and Wes step out into the hall they hear the sound of a man singing off key over the base com system, “Oh baby, baby, my boobs were supposed to grow. Oh baby, baby, Hobbie likes to play with them oh, oh, ho. Help me, I think I was a B, now I’m growing cause of these hormones…oops I did it again.”

“What the?” was Hobbie’s response. As he listened closer he realized that the man singing was his friend Wes Janson. A few nights earlier Wes had had one too many drinks and had broken out into song and dance in front of him.

“What the?” Wes said as he realized it was him on the com. Hobbie quickly walked away from Wes to keep him from hearing his laughter. Fenig Durak walking behind them wore a Coruscant sized grin as she began to dance to Wes’ signing. As she moved past them she could hold in her laughter no longer and let it all out. Fenig and the rest of the base personnel were against the walls and on the floor doubled over with laughter. Wes lowered his head in defeat and grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. Hobbie wondered how in the Hoth Wes’ antics a few nights earlier had been recorded.

Wes with his shirt over his head walked into a wall and was quickly grabbed by Hobbie and guided to the hanger bay. Jag Fel and Dana Hogan walked behind the two. Jag had an uncharacteristic grin on his face and Dana’s face remained commonly stony. Both pilots had served under the Empire at the start of their careers and as a result the two were stricter than the other pilots and many times didn’t get involved in the other squad member’s antics. As Jag and Dana entered the hanger Wes’ song could be heard echoing through the large hanger bay.

“It wasn’t my fault, Wedge made me do it, now look I’m a mess. My man boobs are huge,” floated down to the pilots.

Hobbie, Wes, and Fenig changed vectors and walked to the locker room. “Next time you get drunk, I’m shooting you and putting myself out of my misery,” Hobbie said. Just then Wes pulled his shirt all the way off and began flexing his muscles in an attempt to intimidate the base personnel to stop laughing. His attempt went unnoticed. The personnel in the hanger were laughing too hard to even see him. Hobbie grabbed him again and pulled him into the locker room. Fenig stopped short of the door the squadron commanders went in to.

Mouthing the words to the song she began to slip various tools and mild explosives into her pockets. She wasn’t sure what she might need so she packed her most commonly used tools. She glanced around making sure she didn’t miss anything. Satisfied with her packing job she reaches into her locker and pulls out a small round music disk. She held it up and read the back with an evil grin. Then she dropped the disk into her right breast pocket. She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed to the freighter.

* * *

In the next room Hobbie, Wes, and Dana were gathering their things as well. Wes lowered his head.

“Gods, a guy can’t even get drunk anymore,” Wes said.

Hobbie tried to remember a time when Wes had been more depressed than him but nothing came to his mind. The group commander reached into his locker and grabbed his blaster and a few other items of his pilot equipment.

“Relax Wes, not all of us laughed,” Dana told him with a wink. Dana then grabbed a belt holster out of her locker and strapped it on around her flight suit. She then brought out two DL-44s and dropped them into their holsters. To Dana there was no such thing as overkill. When she wanted something dead it was dead. The trio of pilots grabbed anything else they might need and headed back out into the hanger.

Corran Horn and Gavin Darklighter were just walking into the hanger headed to their fighters. Mike was walking to his fighter as well, adjusting his black flight gloves and instrument box strapped onto his chest. Mike then tossed his helmet into the fighter’s cockpit as the hanger techs loaded his R2 unit and the torpedoes he would need. The young Corellian pilot vaulted into his fighter and reached out with his right, gloved hand and closed the canopy with the press of a button. A boyish grin played across Mike’s lips as he started up the repulserlifts. He flexed his hand on the flight controls eager to commence take-off. Eager to Die? He asked himself. Not a chance, for any of us.

Next to Mike sat Jag’s fighter and he was doing much of the same. He had already completed his preflight check and was waiting with the canopy down for control to grant them clearance. He looked to his left and right seeing Gavin’s and Mike’s fighters next to him and then another fighter, a green one, on the other side of Gavin. His mind floated back to the casualty rate Cracken had told them about. Seven-five percent casualty rate of the escort meant that three of the four pilots would be killed. For the first time since he flew his first mission on Chiss he had been close to being frightened. He shook his head to clear it. If he had to die to save the rest of his friends, as he called them now, then he would gladly step up to the challenge.

On the other side of the hanger Hobbie and Wes were just now getting to the ramp of the freighter. Before Hobbie could step on the ramp Wes took off running up into the freighter. The squadron executive officer then ran into the cockpit and magnetically sealed the door. Hobbie, who rarely got excited, continued to walk. He placed his things in a locker then walked to the cockpit. He pressed the cockpit door release but nothing happened.

Hobbie banged on the door Wes had sealed, “Janson!”

“Don’t want any,” came Wes’ response through the door.

Hobbie chuckeld before saying, “After that display you probably won’t get any. Now let me in.” There was no comment from Wes. Behind him Hobbie heard the voice of Fenig.

“Uhm, can I ask you a favor?” she asked.

Hobbie turned around to face her and saw she was leaning in around the corner, “Yes Miss Durak?” he replied.

“Play this while we’re in hyperspace?” she said almost pleadingly as she reached into her green oil stained pocket and pulled out the disk.

Hobbie gave her a guarded look, “Why?”

Fenig shrugged, “It’s just music.”

“By whom?” the Colonel asked. Fenig threw a thumb at the sealed cockpit door. Hobbie held out his hand and said, “We’ll see, but if I end up in bacta you’re paying the bill.”

“After this I’ll buy you enough bacta to last your lifetime,” the green eyed mechanic said.

“That’s an awful lot of bacta,” Hobbie replied. He then turned back to the door and gave it a few more bangs. “Let me in, you know you can’t fly this behemoth by yourself!”

Fenig’s playful voice entered his ears again, “There are an awful lot of those disks hitting the shelves soon.”

Hobbie turned to glance at Fenig, “You’re evil…but the good kind.” He then went back to his banging while Fenig trotted away. Hobbie then heard the hum of the freighters engines being fired up and could hear Janson on the inside of the cockpit talking to the other Rogues.

“Rogues, the Big Hull is ready for departure when you are,” Wes said.

Hobbie, desperate, bangs on the door again and yells at his friend, “Janson!” Before he could say any more the ship lifted off of the deck unsteadily forcing Hobbie to grab onto a bulkhead.

Janson’s voice popped on the ship’s com system, “Oh yeah, strap in guys.” Hobbie knowing he’s not going to get Janson to open the door heads for the back of the freighter and plops in the rear runner turret placed right above the engine. He donned the headset that was resting on the fire controls.

Dana’s voice came through first, “Shall we hope we can live long enough to get down there? Also anyone else wondering why we fly something big when we need to go fast?”

Fenig’s voice came next seeming to be in the center of Hobbie’s mind due to the headset, “It’s all testosterone. It’s a guy thing.”

Hobbie grinned and had to respond, “You better believe it ladies.” Then they were in space. Hobbie could feel the ship lurch and he knew Janson was testing the freighter’s maneuverability.

“You don’t count,” Fenig said again in the middle of his head.

Hobbie sighed, “I never do.”

“I remember a mission, back when I was Imperial, where we had to steal a squadron of Z-95s, you think our squadron CO had us in a freighter?” Dana asked over the com. Hobbie muttered something unintelligible under his breath as moved around in his seat to get comfortable. He then heard the freighter’s engines hum louder as Wes pushed them to their limit.

Behind the fighter Corran’s flight group was lifting off. Mike gently lifted his fighter into the air.

“Wait for my mark and then assume a diamond formation point five klicks out behind the freighter,” Mike heard Corran order over the com.

“One for the history books,” Mike said to himself. He glided the fighter out of the bay and heard Corran’s mark. He then sped up and setteled into formation behind and to the right of Corran. He could see Jag directly to his left one meter away already in formation and behind them Gavin was tucking in. Mike then set his autopilot and sat back in his seat wondering what would come next.

=======ENDSIM=======