Project Boussh: Comm Silence by Brad Corletti "You probably haven't heard yet. Sci sent word that Admiral Ackbar and General Cracken have turned the investigation over to us. So, in a sense, I can accept your surrender. Now, let's go talk." The anger began to resurface. "I..." His response was cut off as his ship shuddered from the impact of a missile. He checked his sensors. A dozen TIE-Interceptors had suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere. He cursed under his breath and turned his guns towards the more important threat. Kicking in the till-now idling engine, he put his craft into a spinning climb skywards. His droid gunner sprayed blaster cannon fire at the approaching squints. A missile-lock indicator appeared on his screen; apparently at least one of the squints was missile-equipped and had decided to fire on the more heavily shielded B-wing first. Had Brad been in his place he would have fired on the more nimble and weakly shielded A-wing first in the hopes of taking it out of the fight in the opening seconds, which meant the TIEs thought they could take the A-wing without resorting to heavy ordinance. That meant they were cocky. He pushed his throttle to full, trying to get some distance, waiting for the missile-equipped TIE to fire and identify itself. That was the biggest threat and was probably the squadron leader. He kept a close eye on his sensor panel. When that missile fired, he wanted to know which blip it emerged from. So that he'd know which blip to vape first. "Ace Two, this is Rogue Nine." A voice came over New Republic frequencies. Brad felt a momentary stab of fear but it was only passing; fear of the future was submerged by the fact that it was very possible he would not live to see it. "Corran... where the hell are you? Never mind. What are you doing here?" Apparently the Jedi-in-training had no idea why pilots used callsigns. The missile-lock indicator flashed red, and his sensors screamed at him. He marked the TIE that had launched it as his primary target and stopped evading. "Taking TIEs off your tail. Watch out." His predictable flight path - while still out of weapons range of the TIEs - meant that the missile also followed a predictable flight path. Which meant that the droid gunner had no trouble blowing it up as it approached. "Corran, Brad, be careful. These guys are the 181st. And they're working for someone here on Terra." Brad began resuming his evasive maneuvers as the TIEs closed to weapons range. He briefly wondered just how many pilots decorated in the 181st's colours actually belonged to the famed squadron. "I copy, Ace Two." It was no good. The TIEs starting hammering away at his shields. They'd caught him and now he was toast. Then he saw something on his sensor board that brought a smile on his face. "Dorset," he beamed on a private channel. "You've come to save me!" "Couldn't have your cute ass floating in space now could I, Bravo One?" One of the TIEs on his display died as a new blip, an A-wing, roared into the dogfight. "Ace Two, Rogue Nine, this is Polearm Five, ready to assist." Even with two aces and a Jedi, the odds still looked grim. Brad cut his throttle to a third and entered into a looping spinning dive, shunting most of his power into vectoring. When he emerged he was headed straight for his primary target. The TIE was turning to intercept his previous path, and had been caught off guard by the rapid maneuver. Brad saw the red stripes of the 181st and smiled as he pulled his triggers. Only to watch the pilot dance out of the way of his attacks. He'd underestimated his foe and now the enemy were once again lashing away at his shields. This pilot truly did deserve the stripes. Once again he spun and dove, sacrificing altitude for speed. The move enabled him to avoid the majority of the attacks directed his way, and enabled him to blast one of the squints with his cannons. The 181st pilot danced away from another of Brad's attacks. Brad snarled and headed on an intercept. He switched his weapons systems to concussion missiles and switched his target to a random TIE. As he swooped in, the Imperial got no warning of a missile lock. The pilot yawed to face the B-wing and got a pair of concussion missiles in the face for his troubles. That appeared to do it for the rest of the squints. One by one they turned and fled the battle. Corran Horn and Dorset Konnair had once again torn through the enemy, and Vickie had done surprisingly well considering it was her first combat. He casually turned his craft until it was heading away from Corran and Vickie at a ninety degree angle. Dorset joined his wing. Brad then realised he had only gotten two kills. He'd been so absorbed in taking out the dangerous 181st pilot that he'd not done more than fire discouraging attacks against others. He had only four kills to his name. One short of ace. He shook his head, wondering why he cared. But he did, and that's what confused him. Here he was, being hunted by the New Republic, and he was wishing he'd killed more of the Empire's pilots so that he could call himself 'ace'. He opened a tightbeam channel to Dorset. "Polearm Five. Comm silence." It was a code for the disabling of communications recorders. "Observing comm silence," Dorset replied. "I have to disappear. You know why." Regret tinged her voice. "I know why, Bravo One." Brad nodded. "Shoot me down. Shoot me down before Horn remembers why I'm here." Surprise. "What? I can't do that, One!" Brad gritted his teeth. "You have to. Horn's A-wing is faster than my B-wing. I can't outrun him and I can't outfly him. You shoot me with a missile, I shut down all systems and make it look like I've been knocked out by your shot. I plummet to earth and engage emergency repulsorlifts before I hit the ground." "They'd want to know why. And then I'd have to tell them what you told me. I don't want to do that. We can put that behind us." "It's far too late for that. In trying to coverup the sale of arms to the Empire, I've held a New Republic officer at gunpoint, and tampered with New Republic equipment. They'll probably throw in a few dozen miscellaneous charges relating to the operation for good measure. You know, accuse me of strafing X-wings, selling out teams to the Imps, that sort of thing. Shoot me down and I can go on a little longer." "I can't do it, Brad. You've run long enough. It's time to face your accusers." "I don't WANT to face them, nothing I say or do will convince them that my guilty history is not worth pursuing, not with Inquisitor Piggy prodding them along." He paused. "You don't want to even give it a chance?" "That's right, because if I give it a chance, I lose any chance I have of walking out of this a free man." "If you don't, you may not walk out of this at all!" POLEARM FIVE AND BRAVO ONE ARE COMMUNICATING ON A TIGHTBEAM LINK. Vickie nodded, her expression calm. "I know."