DisCanon, 19 ABY

Trailing boundary, Prefsbelt Sector, The Outer Rim Territories . . .

 

     With a flicker of pseudo-motion, the lone X-Wing reverted back into realspace. It was one of the T-70 models, an improved variant of the T-65, the Rebel Alliance’s valiant workhorse during the Galactic Civil War. Plastered across the nose of the snubship was the distinctive fang-jawed nose art of the Lightspeed Panthers starfighter squadron. Rather than the snarling maw that adorned all the other ships in the squadron, this particular pilot chose to have the mouth turned up in a sardonic grin, and just forward of the cockpit was the name which the same pilot chose to christen his ship: Hutt’s Paw.

     Gavin Thayer glanced at the computer readout as R6-D7, his astromech ‘droid, chirped a question at him. “What I’m planning on doing, R6,” the young pilot answered, “is laying an ambush on the sector patrol.” R6 whistled in astonishment, but Gavin felt he had good reason. Despite what all the newsnet commentators described as a “cold” war, out here on the borderland regions, the conflict was most definitely “hot”. Death and destruction was nearly a daily occurrence, yet blandly dismissed by the media as “incidents” or “confrontations”. And way too many squadrons rotating in from quiet sectors treated such descriptions as fact. Security patrols and flights were taken with less and less seriousness, and it seemed many pilots were more interested in racking up hours purely to increase their flight pay.

     “No, they’re not going to like it,” Gavin admitted in response to R6’s observation. “But it might teach them a lesson:  You can’t just go through the motions out here, because you never know just when you might get bounc—”

     The young Corellian bit off the last of the sentence as he was forced to throw his X-Wing into an immediate dive in order to avoid the pair of starfighters that suddenly exited from hyperspace directly in front of his own. Gavin swore as his targeting ‘puter identified the two craft: TIEs, standard models from their hexagonal solar panels. But when did the Imperial Remnant start equipping their TIEs with hyperdrives? Not only that, these two didn’t quite appear to be TIE/LN models either.

     There was no time to waste. Gavin pulled his X-Wing up in a steep climb and set a pursuit course. The pilots of the TIEs likewise seemed to have recovered from their surprise and were taking evasive action. Not quickly enough though, as Gavin latched onto the tail of one of the wildly maneuvering craft.

The sensors of Gavin’s X-Wing—and R6-D7—suddenly screamed out a warning: Targeting lock! As Gavin jinked and juked his snubship, he frantically looked for the enemy that had snuck up on him. How is  my demise going to be reported in the news? Gavin thought to himself. Would it be,“One of our starfighters is missing.”? Only there wasn’t any enemy to his rear; the weapons being aimed at him were directly to his front!

     The two TIEs abruptly broke off the engagement by jumping into hyperspace, leaving Gavin’s X-Wing alone in the void. The Corellian blew his breath out in astonishment as R6 tweeted insistently at him. “You were able to get a good look at their jump vector? Good work, R6! Contact headquarters. We need to get back to base as soon as we can.”

 

New Republic Defense Force base, Alashan . . .

 

     Gavin gulped nervously, positive that he had not persuaded any of the three individuals he was giving his debriefing report to: The one from Intelligence, Paydon Xidgol, appeared bored; Drox Gottil, representing New Republic’s government, looked peeved; and Colonel Rast Brishen, commanding officer of NR Forces Alashan, was absolutely furious! Still, Gavin knew he needed to forge ahead.

     “Sir, I’m certain that this is a new production model of the TIE starfighter, one capable of matching our own,” Gavin stated, pointing at the holographic image of the mysterious craft that the maintenance techs had created from his X-Wing’s telemetry. “Hyperspace capable, shield-equipped, and rear defense weapons that—”

“I’m not convinced, Thayer,” Colonel Brishen replied with a dismissive wave. “What you encountered were some ships modified by outlaw techs. For smugglers, probably. That is the most likely explanation.”

     “But Sir,” Gavin persisted, overlaying a holographic representation of a TIE/LN over the one he encountered. “You can see that these new, unknown starfighters have slightly different dimensions, and the energy signature of their reactors doesn’t match any known type in current Imperial use. And these,” Gavin pointed to the gear-shaped housings that flanked the TIE’s ball-shaped cockpit, “have never been observed on any Imperial craft.”

     “Even if they are new Imperial fighters,” Xidgol chimed in, “ I’m confident that they don’t pose much of a threat. The Remnant control but eight sectors, not nearly large enough to pose a threat to the New Republic.”

     “But these TIEs didn’t come from Remnant Space,” Gavin argued. “They arrived from the Unknown Regions. And that’s where they returned to. We have their jump vectors. A reconnaissance mission would—”

     “Be out of the the question!” Gottil finished. “The terms of the Galactic Concordance are quite clear, and the government doesn’t need any young hot-heads looking to exacerbate the situation while out looking for fame and glory.”

Gavin drew himself up to his full height. Which, truth be told, wasn’t real all that much. “My report will be forwarded to Defense Force Headquarters?”

     “Your report will sent to the proper governing authority,” Brishen grumbled. “In the meantime, Thayer, I suggest that you concentrate on your routine duties. Dismissed.”

 

   
     Gavin encountered the mysterious starfighters three more times during subsequent patrols. The first two were sightings at a distance, and the young pilot was only able to get
sensor readings on them, but the final encounter was the one that Gavin was sure that HQ would have to take notice of. This time, he discovered a small convoy: Three bulk carriers, escorted by a Lancer-class frigate and a heretofore unclassified ship, clearly of a cruiser rating, engaged in collecting its screen of TIEs—also of a new type—before making
the jump to hyperspace. Once again, Gavin was able to collect all sorts of readings on the ships, and R6 got a solid look at their jump vector into the Unknown Region.
   
     While he waited for HQ to digest his report, Gavin began to haunt Alashan’s operations center, going over every scouting report, com-scan intercept, anything that would help
bolster his case that there was indeed an ominous threat building in regions of space hidden from the New Republic’s view.

   Staring at a holoprojection of the sector, Gavin consulted what few scraps on information he had, then cackled with satisfaction. It was going to be there—right there!—where the unknown ships were going to show up next, and Gavin would insist that a full squadron be ready to—

   “Lieutenant Gavin Thayer?”

   Gavin looked over to the entrance of the operations center, and saw an officer in a white coat standing there. “I’m Thayer. Are you from Intelligence?”

   “My name is Major Doz Trammin. I’m a doctor.”

   The young pilot gaped at the officer. “But . . . I-I’m not sick.”

   Major Trammin gave Gavin a sympathetic smile. “My specialty is behavior health, and I’m an expert in the field.” Trammin’s smile grew wider. “But I’m here to help you. Why don’t we go somewhere quiet where we can have a nice, long talk?”    Clutching his flight bag, a dazed Gavin walked along the flight line toward a landing pad, while being trailed by Major Trammin and Colonel Brishen. Most of the flight crews and
pilots working in the revetments gave Gavin a sympathetic look, then shook their heads knowingly as the dreary procession passed. They all knew it was a familiar scenario: The
eager young lieutenant who was done in by his own overzealousness.

   R6 came racing up the flight line and beeped frantically at Gavin. “No, R6,” the pilot replied as he gave the ‘droid a sickly smile. “There’s nothing you can do. Just give your new
pilot the very best you can. So long, R6.”

   As R6 came to a halt and wailed mournfully, Gavin continued to the landing pad. Looking up, he saw a glint of light. No, there were two ships coming in. Maybe an escort,
especially if the patient became . . . agitated. Gavin turned his face to avoid the backblast as the two ships—a shuttle and an older T-65CA4 X-Wing settled on the landing pad.

   “Nice ship,” Gavin called out to X-Wing’s pilot as he clambered down out of the cockpit. “You must be my replacement.”

   “Not my ship,” the pilot, a Quor’sav with blue plumage, replied. “I was just ordered to fly it down. By those two officers on the shuttle. Can you tell me where headquarters is located?”

   Gavin jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he eyed to two officers who disembarked from the shuttle. Guess they forgot the straightjacket, the young pilot thought grimly. Something odd, though: While both work rank placards, neither wore any identification tags.

   “Lieutenant Gavin Thayer?” the one on the left asked. Gavin nodded. “Your orders,” the officer stated crisply, holding out a data card.

   This caused both Major Trammin and Colonel Brishen to step forward. “Thayer has his orders,” Trammin protested. “And it is imperative he follow them.”

   “Who issued those orders?” the officer on the right now asked.

   “I did,” Trammin replied, “and those orders were endorsed by the commanding officer of this base.”

   Right-side officer whipped out a small holocommunicator while left-side officer activated a distortion screen around the group. Gavin couldn’t see or hear what was going on, but
the conversation was apparently short and to the point. Once the distortion screen was dropped, Trammin and Brishen—both ashen-faced— spun about and marched off without a
word. Observing the two as they passed, R6 suddenly raced toward Gavin.

   “Your astromech?” one of the officers asked as the astromech ‘droid approached. Gavin nodded dumbly. “Good. That will save us the trouble of rounding one up for your X-Wing.
Yes, that X-Wing. Now, suit up, Thayer.”

     Fully suited up, Gavin dashed out from the shuttle’s passenger bay, his cheeks reddening when he noticed the bemused looks the two anonymous officers were giving him. Well, what did they expect? He couldn’t just strip and change into his flight suit right out there on the tarmac where everyone would see him, could he? R6-D7, already nestled in the X-Wing’s astromech socket, eyed him silently as Gavin clambered into the fighter’s cockpit, then fired up the ship’s engines when the young pilot closed the craft’s canopy. Pushing a few levers, Gavin put the X-Wing into a slow, graceful climb as he followed the shuttle into the skies above Alashan.

   “That was my first thought too, R6,” Gavin replied to the ‘droid’s warbled observation. “They’re coming to take me away, ha-haaa! Now we’ll find out where we’re really going.”

                                                                                                                        * * * * *

   Events turned out to be somewhat anti-climatic when Gavin landed his X-Wing aboard the Nebulon-B frigate in orbit over Alashan. Rather than being given any answers, Gavin and R6 were instead escorted to an interior cabin and instructed to remain there until further notification. And unfortunately, he would not be permitted to contact his family or any associates at this time. So this meant both pilot and ‘droid were just going to have to while away the hours while in seclusion. R6 used the opportunity to plug into a recharge unit and run system diagnostics, while Gavin napped or watched the holovids that were available to him. And it really wasn’t much of a selection: A Wynnssa Starflare drama, the thoroughly risible and utterly contemptible Win or Die, and that old favorite, Varn, World of Water.

   Mostly, Gavin tried to determine the heading of the ship by listening to the Nebulon-B’s engines, feeling the thrum of the ship’s thrusters on the deck and bulkheads, and whenever he felt the familiar lurch, measuring the amount of time the frigate spent in hyperspace. Longer periods spent in hyperspace meant the ship was on an established route; the Braxant Run was the one closest to Alashan, and that route intersected with the Hydian Way.

   Gavin estimations proved correct when the much anticipated and awaited call arrived: Report to the hangar bay so he could fly the final leg of his journey. R6 took one look at the starfield outside the frigate’s hangar bay and identified it as the Trans-Hydian Borderlands. This was a region where the New Republic’s authority was nebulous at best; despite the government’s best efforts, many of the region’s systems and sectors preferred to remain neutral/non-aligned, and a few--Zygerria, Lianna, Vjun--were rated as “hostile”.

   Once he was secure in the X-Wing’s cockpit, Gavin slotted the data card given to him on Alashan. Finally, the mysterious location of his destination was revealed: Mirrin Prime.

     Mirrin Prime. The world originally had been scouted and identified as a potential base site during the war against the Empire, and while rudimentary facilities were erected, the planet never developed into major operational center. Yet here it was, still in operation some fourteen years after the signing of the Galactic Concordance.

     As Gavin brought his X-Wing in for a landing, the pilot could see that the base had undergone some recent improvements. The landing tarmac was of newly constructed press-bonded material, and much of the   communication/scanning, shielding, and energy generation equipment was of the latest type. The latest mobile type, required whenever a base was to be deployed—or evacuated—at a moment’s notice.

      An officer was waiting for Gavin as he climbed down out of his fighter’s cockpit. As at Alashan, the officer wore nothing to identify him by name. At first glance he appeared to be Atrisian, but when he spoke his accent was pure Outer Rim. “Lieutenant Thayer,”, the officer said by way of greeting. “I am to escort you to your debriefing.”

* * * * *

     Debriefing, Frell! Gavin thought to himself as a drop of sweat ran down his temple. More like an interrogation!

     The young pilot was seated on one side of a bunker, illuminated by a set of bright floodlights that cast a hot, blinding light upon him. Gavin’s inquisitors remained behind the lights, hidden in the shadows, while they fired off a barrage of questions about what he had seen and encountered on the edge of Wild Space.

     “You’re absolutely certain of what you saw?” one of the shadows asked in a harsh, gravelly voice. Gavin squinted, discerning the dark figure as a Mon Calamari. Not surprising, really; High Command was well stocked with them.

     “Positively,” Gavin replied stiffly. “Analysis of the ship’s energy signature and performance parameters don’t match any known profile. And Asset Tracking has nothing on file about that cruiser I spotted.”

     “Perhaps the reason is no intelligence has been forwarded to that division,” gravelly voice countered. “Do you know how many sighting reports headquarters has received from that sector? Just yours. Do you have any what the odds that—”

     “If I may have a word,” a new voice intervened as Gavin bared his teeth at his tormentor. But this new voice was female. And one that suggested a very cultured upbringing, yet now sounded very weary and somewhat . . . sad?  “Lieutenant, what makes you think that these unknown ships are part of a larger entity? One that threatens the New Republic?”

     Gavin paused before answering. Could it be that this woman was a veteran of the Galactic Civil War, and he was about to tell her that everything that she had fought and sacrificed for was about to start swirling down the refresher? “I,” Gavin began before biting his lip. “It’s just a . . . gut instinct I have!”

     The bunker exploded into an uproar. It seemed like nearly everyone behind the lights was talking—shouting—angrily, hurling accusations, recriminations, and threats with abandon.

    “The sector fleet was to be mobilized based on this?”

     “This could have caused a crisis in the Senate! A no-confidence vote!”

     “Not to mention the harm done to the diplomatic efforts concerning the neutral territories!”

     “You could kiss any mutual defense pacts goodbye in those sectors.”

     “I was expected to recommend to the Commodore a full mobilization order because this kid says ‘I got a bad feeling about this.’!?!”

     “I’m not a kid!” Gavin spat hotly.

     “ENOUGH!” The female voice again, speaking with an authority that instantly silenced everyone in the room. “We will discuss this situation shortly in a confidential matter. In the meantime, Lieutenant, you are dismissed for the time being."