Flight Lieutenant Adjunct-Commander Sieu
Revenant Squadron 76th Reserve Squadron "Cyclones", 205th (Reserve) Air Division, Coruscant Defense Command
Location: Coruscant Orbit, "The Box"
Objective: Train pilots
Equipment: REC-AS02 B-wing Heavy Assault Starfighter
Callsign: Revenant Four Cyclone One
ALLIES: Open!
ENEMIES: Bunch of Target Drones
<<Two and Three, stick on my tail, commencing attack run!>>
High above Coruscant, the trio of B-Wings dove towards their target, turbolasers spitting bolts in coordinated fire. The lasers seared into their targets and destroyed them- one, two target drones disintegrating, before the swarm of drones fired back. Bright green blaster bolts splashed across their shields. The pilot held his breath, but too late, the overlapping shields between himself and his wingmen began to split, and their own withering fire began wavering and diverging, missing the large floating target behind them.
Adjunct-Commander Shar Sieu cursed and clicked his mic again.
<<Break contact! Cease fire, no-good.>>
The Gossam pilot slapped the training drone command panel to his side, and the drones ahead of them powered down while his wingmen broke off.
<<I thought we did pretty good.>>
<<Sorry boss, couldn't get the trim just right.>>
<<Don't be sorry, be better.>> Shar snapped. He grimaced- it was unbecoming of him to act like this. He watched through the specially installed instructors-cameras. The pilots were so young. These weren't the crack pilots of the Second Hyperspace War of yore- they were reservists and part-timers. They all came from all walks of life, freighter pilots, droid programmers, hoteliers, database professionals, and even a cook. In the long peace of the past 20 years, the Alliance never did repeal the funds earmarked for the
ADEA or
Common Soldier Corps. The extra pay in return for flight qualification, all for one weekend of training a month and two weeks of refresher courses a year seemed a good call to many, especially in that time of peace.
He keyed the mic again.
<<Let's just... reform and go at it again.>>
Shar and the other pilots joined up and banked away from the targets. Despite being in Coruscanti space, there was almost no traffic around here. The evacuation and resupply of Coruscant had reached full swing, but Coruscant Defense Command needed space to drill the swelling number of pilots called back into service- including Shar and his squadron, and so CDC had sectioned off a large sector of space above the Manarai Mountains just for that purpose. Everywhere in the space above Coruscant was packed, except for The Box, as the spacers had taken to calling it.
Shar looked out the starboard side and watched the evacuation ships stream in jagged, splaying lines off the planet, like a web fanning out from the crown jewel of the Galaxy. Shar knew that Air Traffic Control was having a hell of a time coordinating a speedy, organised, and safe evacuation of thousands of ships composed of hundreds of models and make. His coworkers in the Guild, many of whom were now seconded to ATC, were already complaining last week about the inability of freighter pilots to fly straight on an automated guidance network.
<<Alright Cyclones, come around portside and we'll prep for another attack run. Four and Five, you're up. Nice and steady, in Besh Formation, like we practiced.>> The others groaned. The squadron slew around, giving Shar a clear view of the Coruscant planetscape.
At this angle, he could see the other half of the preparations, the flip-side of evacuation- hundreds of supply ships flying in on coordinated approach vectors, away from the barely controlled chaos of the evacuation. The Alliance starbird shone proudly on their flanks, each carrying vital equipment, munitions, and personnel to bolster the defence of the heart of the Alliance from the Empire.
Shar gripped his control sticks harder at the thought of it. Two decades ago he'd served his country proudly, at the tip of the spear with Revenant, slicing through the Maw, culminating in the destruction of their diseased headquarters. And now they were back, in an unholy alliance with Imperial Remnants. Oh how they had celebrated back then- though it had been discouraged- when Bastion fell and the grey-cloaked fascists of the north and east collapsed into in-fighting.
Some pests never learn to die.
The trio of B-Wings formed up, matching speeds. Shar used his taclink to designate targets- Target Cluster 45, a medium-sized target, about the size of a capital-ship turbolaser, guarded by three patrol drones, configured to fly like the Dark Empire's
Darkshear Swarm Fighters, including their key strengths and weaknesses. He adjusted their parameters on his instructor command panel, upping their intensity from the usual training programs.
<<Remember- our B-Wings have stronger firepower and armour than the Swarm Fighters. Come in fast and take every opportunity to saturate them with fire. Do not get into a turn fight with them, especially those flying together. Do not underestimate their combined power as puppet drones of the enemy's priests, or you will end up as interstellar wind.>> Grim, but it got the point across. Of course, Shar knew the best way was to kill the priest, but this simulated target could only do so much.
The trio split up as they banked above the target and powered-up their heavy laser cannons.
<<Attack run primary target- turbolaser. Swarm Commander has a reasonable chance of being stationed inside that mount if his Swarm is on point defence. Secondary target- thin the swarms. Attack group, form on me and follow me in.>>
Shar flexed his cybernetic leg as he adjusted the approach angle and yanked on the control sticks. The three B-Wings turned and dove, engines blazing. Their shields overlapped- good, at least that much was acceptable, compared to the average reserve squadron- absorbing the training drones' practice lasers.
Their Quad laser cannons and Heavy laser cannons blasted through the void- 15 streams of high-powered death smashing through the formation of drones. The rest scattered before splitting, their vectors taking them on curving paths towards the B-Wings like an enveloping jaw.
<<Stay on target!>>
<<I'm getting flank shots!>> Cyclone Four, the data entryist, warned over comms. Shar could see over the instructor cameras he was starting to lose composure, hitting buttons he should not be.
<<Focus and stay on target! Keep shield power frontward else the turbolaser will destroy you.>>
<<Losing stabilisers.>> Five, the packaging manager called out, her starfighter simulating damage from the drone attacks. Shar watch her carefully adjust her thrust vectors on the secondary panels- too carefully, for a rapid attack run.
<<Report your drift.>>
<<Yaw plus three point four, dive plus point two.>>
<<Adjust your trim, five. Four, maintain formation distance.>>
The B-Wing on his rear left complied. Shar cursed as his cybernetic leg struggled to grab hold of the rudder.
<<Five, I'm getting malfunctions. Break right, Four will deliver the payload.>>
<<Roger!>> Five banked right, her rear cannons blasting another drone to pieces. With two groups of targets, the drones- and by simulation, the enemy commander- would waste precious milliseconds choosing whether to split or focus on one of the two groups.
It was enough time for Four to re-align with Shar's approach vector, finally getting into missile range.
<<Launched!>> Four called out, launching the concussion missiles, two blue streaks barreling away.
<<Pull up!>> The two B-Wings' engines roared to life, kicking in and pulling them out of their dive even as the drones swarmed them.
From his viewscreen, Shar watched the "turbolaser" target explode.
<<Yeah!>> Five shouted over the comms.
<<Dead on!>> Three chimed in.
<<Alright, alright, settle down. That was a good one, despite the issues. Alright, enough gawing, Two Flight, you're with me now. Eight and Nine, form on me. Five, take control of One Flight. We'll be doing a double envelopment attack run on Site 13. TIEs this time.>> Shar watched the pilots groan and shake their heads through the instructor cameras- but at least they were focussed now. They badly needed that win.
Shar looked down and checked his cybernetic leg again. Life had not been nice to Shar in the past decades- Revenant had been disbanded after the war, and sure, the royalties from selling some of his story to
fictionalised portrayals of the GADF helped. But with the Imperialist governor of Castell remaining in power, his little youthful political indiscretion with that protest group still kept his file open in the eyes of the cops back home. So he'd re-joined the Commerce Guild- this time as a free employee- and made the trade runs as a freighter pilot. He hadn't even lost his leg in war- it was an industrial accident. No veteran benefits there.
Shar sighed as he looked out the window again, his gaze up, up... towards the Galactic Core, where the constellations grew dense, a beautiful tapestry. Yet even there, he could swear he could feel the darkness oncoming.
Life had not been nice to Shar, but it was still worth living- and if necessary, giving, in defence of the Alliance and Freedom, for the trillions that now lived in the shining beacon that was the Alliance.