It all arrived so suddenly, the blaring sounds of the ship's alarm system, the crimson lights of an emergency protocol, and finally, enemy starships emerging from the dark void of space. This was no drill, that much Aleksandr was sure of. The mission was meant to be a simple escort run, returning some senator’s son back to his ancestral homeworld. The Alliance had provided a light security detail to say the least. A mere squadron of pilots and a single Jedi Padawan. It would’ve been enough to repel an attack from corsairs, but from a prepared military operation? He was not so sure.
Aleksandr appeared on the bridge minutes after the assault began. It was a chaotic mess. With no clear command structure the pilots barked at the ensigns while the latter hawked orders to the ship technicians. They were getting nowhere. He cleared his throat as he approached, and every eye in the room was on him. His instinct almost made him turn to look for his master, but Cale was not here now, and any show of fear or indecisiveness would surely be ruinous for the crew. He couldn’t let them devolve into bickering again, he had to take control.
“Sir! Requesting permission to raise shields and attempt a jump to hyperspace!” A naval officer piped up from behind a holographic screen.
“Nonsense! Sir, let us turn our hypercannons on the enemy. Our fighters can best theirs in combat, I’m certain.” The captain of the pilots interjected, looking to Aleksandr for approval.
His electric blue eyes studied the two men before him. He pondered the plans equally, then opened his mouth to ask a question.
“What do we know of the enemy?” He inquired. “Are they with the Maw? Imperial? Mercenaries or pirates?”
“They seem to be Sith in origin, Padawan Stirsea. Not much has been gleaned beyond that.” An ensign offered nearby. That should be enough to chalk them up as Brotherhood forces, Aleks decided. And the Brotherhood were often undisciplined and murderous. Facts that lead to their downfall.
“We have fighters at our disposal, right?” Aleksandr asked.
“Aye, sir. Holdovers from the last Alliance, if I’m not mistaken. I wouldn’t call them top of the line, but they’ll fly.”
“A jump to hyperspace now is too dangerous, we can’t afford to leave ourselves defenseless with those Sith on our tail. Let’s scramble those fighters.” A grin bloomed on Aleksandr’s face, and a cheer rose up amongst the defense force members on the bridge.
Moments later the squad of pilots were geared for combat and the hangar bay was cleared for deployment. Aleksandr could tell from the inside of his fighter’s cockpit that the vessel was barely spaceworthy. Modules were outdated or inoperable, switches and dials were worn down from years of use. It's only saving grace was the astromech droid that was somehow still online after all this time. It managed to activate most of the fighters combat and flight systems, the rest Aleks would have to improvise.
“Alright flyboys, we’re clear to engage.” He broadcasted to the pilots down the runway. One by one the aircraft pulled off the hangar and plunged into the vacuum of space. They were met by a hailstorm of laser beams and detonating missile-craft. In the heat of battle Aleks could do little more than act as a decoy for the real pilots on the mission. His zipping fighter was a nuisance to the Sith assailants he faced, and he fired off streams of hot plasma at any target that befell his locking systems.
Somewhere though, in the midst of the carnage, Aleksandr sensed something. A dark presence closing in on him, something that burned with both hunger and ambition. Not quite like the Sith Lords he’d faced before, this feeling was more personal. He did not know if it was wise to give his pursuer what he wanted, but Aleks would not run away from such a challenge. He turned his craft in the direction of the darkness, and he pressed forward to meet it head-on, laserfire blazing his path.
Aleksandr Stirsea
