Post Script: The Battle of Endor

[Bette Davis]

Her transparisteel viewscreen darkened against the brightness of the explosion as the Osiris' guns found their target. Shooter's manuever had sent her careening beneath the Lancer frigate, and she looped up and buzzed over Shadow Two.

"Roger that Razor. Six, Eight, stop your lollygaggling." Her tone seemed artificially lighthearted as she came back around, rejoining what was left of her wing.

The three Watcher pilots were formed up, one of the TIE pilots audibly shaken as he yelled at Watcher lead about their comrade who'd gotten caught in the turbolaser fire from the Osiris. Bette sighed, fiddling with her sensors as she led her wing out towards the Death Star. "Shadows, I suggest we switch to comm channel five oh seven."

"No need, Shadow Two," came the voice of Watcher Leader. "Everything is under control here." His upset pilot was silent once more. "Have you heard from the Timocracy?"

Bette narrowed her eyes, "Negative Watcher Lead. We can check it out though. Could be their comm system just went down. Care to join?"

[Zachariah Jak'el]

Zachariah was glad the fighter was destroyed, but at what cost? A single fighter had caused the death of several fighters, only one from his wing but the Watchers lost several. It didn't feel like a victory in the slightest. "Roger that, Shooter" He said over the comm before pulling his ship around and flying in behind Shadow two and awaiting further orders.

[Ulrhik Godsend]

The tinge in the voice over the comm was almost hard to discern but Ulrhik caught it. He pulled up to Shooter's wing and maintained his position as their next objective was being decided.

Dragon felt compelled to disect Shooter's response, unsure if it was for a hope that it was more passion for her comrades than weak sentimentalism. Many might argue that they were the same but Dragon had decided that there was a clear difference between the two when it came to TIE pilots and their squads.

[Tod Marr]

Tod was pretending to hyperventilate in his atmospheric suit when something caught his attention on his ships HUD. A drifting hulk - a Mon Calimari starcruiser dead in space. All systems were dead except for engines, though they might has well have been. The main engines were - technically - online, but the amount of power getting through would have barely moved a fat woman away from an all-you-can-eat buffét. Nevertheless, there was a huge red heat signature coming from the remains of the cruiser. Tod wondered if any of it was salvageable. Plus he was bored out of his mind.

'Shadow Two, this is Twelve. Due to the relatively high activity of my mind, I'm vacating sector B-O-RING and investigating the crippled cruiser, identification number three-five-seven-zero-dash-nine, over.'

Tod grabbed his yoke and increased power to the engines.

[Tal Kellison]

'Shadow Two, this is Twelve. Due to the relatively high activity of my mind, I'm vacating sector B-O-RING and investigating...'

Kellison, turning a particularly bright shade of red, pushed the communications officer out of his chair, taking a seat so he could personally browbeat the pilot.

"NEGATIVE, Colonel Marr, you will get back to the Mindflayer and finish your escort assignment. And if you continue to chase every pretty light you see I'll demote you to hood ornament and strap you to the nose of this ship, do you understand me?!"

"He paused for a moment, hoping to regain some composure.

"Davis, Torre! If you don't keep your wings under control I'll send word to the Admiral and have him supply me with some pilots who can!"

[Tod Marr]

Tod screamed. He brought his ship back into position with the Mindflayer. Beneath his helmet he gritted his teeth and snarled at the Captain, despite not being able to look him in the face. Even if he could see his face, he wouldn't do it. Behind his back - sure! The main comm channel was off, but the squadron channel was active.

'Yes sir! Absolutely Captain Kellison! CAPTAIN Kellison! Affirmative Captain-who-is-below-Admiral-Kellison. Captain Kellison, who is so incompetent, he has not yet been promoted. Up yours!'

He looked at the dead cruisers heat signature one more time before putting it to the back of his mind. Matching speed with the rest of his wing, Tod activated the main channel.

'Confirm that, Mindflayer. Resuming assignment'.

There was blatant contempt in Tod's voice. He deliberately addressed the ship as a whole rather than the Captain specifically. Tod waited for the reply which would no doubt remind him of who he was speaking to.

'I wouldn't mind flaying him!', he said over the squadron channel.

[Bette Davis]

Bette jumped in on the main comm, "Commander Kellison, we have Watcher Squadron from the Timocracy, and they haven't heard from her since the Rebels bugged out, sir. Oh, I apologize, Captain.."

She was flying parallel to the Osiris, but above the ship. "Asking permission to recon further out, and see if we can't locate them."

[Teleran Balades]

No living soul on the bridge had celebrated the Defender’s destruction. The battle for Endor had gone too sourly for such a minor victory, if you could call it that, to do any moral raising.

…..oh, I apologize, captain…” It seemed as if only the pilots had any enthusiasm left. Damn fighter jockeys were always in high spirits, but they had little respect for the chain of command. Tel figured that even with inertial compensators, the G-forces still got to their heads.

“Ensign, push the engines are far as you can, I’m tired of listening to whining children.”

“The escort is appreciated Shadows, we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.. Captain, any word from the Executor? We've been out of contact with the galaxy for the last couple of hours”

[Tal Kellison]

"Affirmative, Davis. Take Wing Three out to scout and report. "

He gave a slight smile of satisfaction. Davis, at least, seemd to be repecting him more now that he was a Captain. Every little bit helped. By all rights, he should hand over control of Shadow Squadron to one of his subordinates, now that he had an entire ISD as his reponsibility, but he felt that the pilots needed his personal guidance.

Balades broke in over the channel.

"Captain, any word from the Executor? We've been out of contact with the galaxy for the last couple of hours”

He paused for a moment before making his reply. "By the Empire, Balades, didn't anyone inform you yet? The Executor went down during the battle. Admirel Piett and all the other fine men abord...were lost."

[Teleran Balades]

"By the Empire, Balades, didn't anyone inform you yet? The Executor went down during the battle. Admiral Piett and all the other fine men aboard...were lost."

A shocked silence filled the bridge. Tel felt the eyes of few dozen people focused on him. The Commander slumped into a make-shift command chair, eyes staring at scuffed jackboots. Executer had Silence reigned for several minutes before he looked back at wide-eyed faces. Many of the crew leaned on their consoles for support.

“The Emperor. What about the Emperor?” A hushed whisper, laced with fear. Tel couldn’t identify whom the voice belong to, everyone had been thinking the same.

Click….whirrrrrrrrrr

Another nameless officer at the sensor station called up the central holoprojector. A few taps on the panel zoomed the image in on a wrecked Death Star. Tel’s eyes fell, despair was felt across the bridge.

Anger slowly clouded across the Commander’s deep brown eyes.

The rebels will pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.

[Tannis V'larr]

Inwardly, Tannis cursed the loss of another squadmate. It was Watcher Two, or Journeyman, as he'd been called. An old hand, as old hand as a TIE pilot could get, at any rate--rock-steady, unambitious, and content to fly support for the young hotshots on every squadron he flew with. He'd known better than to fly into the firing cone of a friendly turbolaser--it had been a mistake borne of fatigue, a mistake that had kept him from joining the exclusive ranks of retired TIE pilots.

Now the remaining Watchers were flying off the port flank of Bette's wing, mirroring the Shadows' delta formation. "I appreciate your help, Shadow Two," Tannis radioed to Bette. "I have a request I would like you to pass on to your deck chief on the Termagant. We have been flying for nearly sixteen hours and have been out of contact with our mothership for the past six. I would be grateful if the Termagant could grant my squadmates a temporary berth until we locate Timocracy. In the meantime, I would be honored to form on your wing and render any assistance you may require."

It was possible that Timocracy's communication tower had been disabled, and that the debris was scrambling her IFF to the point that the Watchers couldn't read it. But Tannis feared the worst. It would take time for a list of disabled and destroyed starships to be assembled. He couldn't afford to wait any longer before ensuring his pilots' safety.

[Jason Dreggs]

Jason had been silent most of the trip just following the lead "rails". There was no real excitement in Jason at this point due to no real action and being tired. He thought on how disappointed his father would be of him at this time, even though he really didn't care how his father thought. The comm broke silence then as "rails" spoke.

"Five, I got nothing form the outside of the cruiser. I'm going to make run by the hanger and take a look inside. Stilletto can you watch my back."

Jason stayed silent for a minute almost in a half sleep from boredom. He wondered what exactly "rails" wanted him to do, he figured he wanted him to follow but he didn't make any hasty assumptions.

"Five here do you want me to follow or just stand guard and continue my nap?"

[Bette Davis]

"Understood Watcher Lead." Bette stared at her comm, then at her sensors, wondering at the bloom of heat in the center of the Mon Cal cruiser that was coming up portside of the Osiris. "You hear that, Captain Kellison? We have two pilots who need berth for the moment, with your permission."

Waiting for Termagant to reply, she flicked the comm to a private channel between herself and Watcher Lead. "Your own fuel cells are probably low too, and I'm not talking about your body. How's that fighter doing? If you run out of fuel on the way to Timocracy..."

The comm crackled, "Permission given; the Watchers are cleared for landing in bay oh-one-eight-eight. Good hunting, Shadows." The voice was that of the communication ensign, and the two TIEs split out of formation. Shooter sighed, her question to Watcher Lead unanswered. "C'mon Dragon and Jackal, let's go find us a Destroyer."

Wing Three peeled away from Osiris, heading back towards the center of the battle field, and the heavily damaged Death Star. Watcher Lead fell into Vance's former position.

[Travis North]

"Outcast, vector to the engines." Raan said through the flight com, "We'll form up and move out, you take point."

The two interceptors were making the transition from plating to hanger on the hull by the end of the transmission. A quick glance outside the viewport revealed what was to be expected, an inactive, and darkened bay.

"Nothing." Rails said over the com as he passed the bay. "You see anything four?"

[Hunk]

Wzzzzzzt…..zzzzzzzzt

Sparks flew.

“How’s it going back there, R4?”

Repairs should be completed within the next 30 standard minutes_

“Ok, just keep doing your best. I’m sure we’ll be out of this mess in no time.”

The confidence in his voice wasn’t representative of the chaos that was churning inside him. It had been almost 3 hours since the Rebel fleet had signaled the retreat and engaged their hyperspace drives. At least those that could do so had.

Hunk was not one of these. He had followed Brown 4 to the edge of the battlefield when the call had come over the comm, but had found out too late that an earlier attack had knocked his hyperdrive out of commission. After a quick search, Hunk took shelter in the hanger bay of a derelict Mon Calimari cruiser. There, in the remains of the giant ship, he had lain far back in empty bay, ship powered down, hoping to avoid detection. Thankfully, it had kept him hidden this long. The hangar’s lone survivor, an R2 unit, now aided his own R4 droid in the repair effort.

He could only hope they succeeded, and succeeded fast—his life support system would fail soon. He checked the gauges.

20 minutes.

As he saw it, he had two choices. He could send out a distress signal, get the Imperials’ attention and be taken prisoner, or he could emerge from the hanger bay, blasters blazing. To waste away in an Imperial work camp or go out in a blaze of glory, which would be a better way to end his life? He still had 20 minutes to decide.

He checked again. Scratch that, 19 minutes.

He briefly wondered if any other pilots were hiding among the wreckage as he had. He wondered if survivors still lingered in some of the inner chambers of this very cruiser.

His ship’s computer essentially shut down, he was dependent on visual scanning. A few minutes ago, he had witnessed a brief firefight, green laser blasts lighting up the orbiting graveyard.

10 minutes left? Where did the time go?

A pair of TIEs broke off, approaching his haven. Hunk forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly, despite his anxiety. For better or worse, the end would be here soon enough.

“Any time now, R4.”

[Ulrhik Godsend]

"Roger Shooter."

Dragon pulled his interceptor to the side and maintained Davis' wing. After listening to all the comm traffic, Ulrhik tried to catch all the inflections, picking up on small things. Such as... Kellison reminded Godsend of a fat mynock. Sucking up power, bothering the dren out of pilots, but protected enough not to get blasted.

And searching for a Destroyer? Nothing in the broken battlefield looked like it could sustain life, at least not for much longer.

[Val Torre]

There was a dull blipping coming from his sensors, Val glanced at it long enough to take note of the readings and then the signal was gone. He frowned.

"Five, Nine, Twelve; begin an acute sensor sweep of this region. You should be recieving the co-ordinates... now."

Val reprogrammed his sensors to focus on the area from whence the signal had originated. He waited, his eyes fixed on the sensor readings.

"Something isn't right here, guys. There's too much interference. Follow my lead!"

He tugged as his hand-yokes and pushed down on his accelartion pedals; The Fat Lady lurched forward, gaining speed as it raced along the length of the cruiser then with a gentle lean to the side, veered of towards the Osiris.

"Here we go..."

His index finger wrapped around a red trigger and pulled. A missile errupted forth from his ship and sailed off towards the portside of the lancer frigate. He waited, his hands clammy inside his gloves, his breathing ceased. The missile disappeared out of sight, it's trail beginning to fade, there was silence over the voice comms. Then his sensors flashed red indicating missile impact.

"Mines!" He bellowed over the voice comms. On cue, an emormous ball of red fire exploded from where the missile had been headed, the explosion silent across the distance of space.

"Minefield in Sector Theta-Nine-Five. Evaisive manouvers! My wing on me, we're moving in! Let's take 'em out!"

[Tod Marr]

'Finally, a reason to live!'

Tod simultaneously engaged his main engines and activated his wing comm channel.

'Copy that, Shadow Two, I'm right behind you.'

YEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAWW!!!!!!!!!!!!. Tod screamed into his comm system as his fighter soared towards the mine field. Due to interference the scanners could not give an accurate readout, but from what he could see there seemed to be several hundred mines.

'Hey Val, check out the darker ones. They kinda look like cluster charges.'

[Zachariah Jak'el]

Zach followed close behind Davis' fighter and kept an eye on his sensors screen aswell as a close watch on the view outside his cockpit.

"Minefield in Sector Theta-Nine-Five. Evaisive manouvers." Came the frantic but stern voice of one of the other shadow squardron pilots.

"Great," He said to himself, "As if the dead couldn't get any betten and now we got mines. What else could make this day any better? Perhaps a group of Mon calamari cruisers will exit hyper space and blow us to little bits." He let out a sigh and returned his attention to his readouts.

[Tannis V'larr]

"Your own fuel cells are probably low too, and I'm not talking about your body. How's that fighter doing? If you run out of fuel on the way to Timocracy..."

Tannis scanned briefly over his gauges to make sure nothing had changed, then quoted his ship's status from memory. "My squadron and I were fully provisioned before launching. At standard patrol speeds, my primary fuel reserves should last for another twelve hours, life support for another thirty-four. I will advise you if my consumables drop below safe levels."

With that, he settled into the fourth position on Shooter's wing and listened idly to the comm. chatter while he scanned the wreckage for the Timocracy's beacon. Shadow Eight... "Jackal," the IFF read... was complaining about booby traps while the pilot who'd been screaming at the captain was now charging recklessly into a minefield. Force, wasn't this Shadow Squadron? Tannis would have expected more discipline from the Empire's finest.

"Watcher Leader to Shadow Three. Still no sign of Timocracy's IFF on standard or emergency channels. Her tranceivers must be out of commision."

Which meant they were looking for one of two things... a star destroyer disabled beyond electronic recognition or a cloud of debris. Either way, what was left of Watcher Squadron didn't have much of a home to return to.