TIE Fighter: Prime Wing

by Jennifer Quail

Chapter Four

Thelea grimaced as she joined L'Grath and Rurik in the Valiant's main briefing room. Rurik barely glanced at her beyond a brief nod of greeting. She returned the gesture just as casually. While he seemed determined to implicate that tech, Starbo, it was still likely that the traitor was in this room. "Where's Lt. Quoris?" she asked, sounding as disinterested as always.

L'Grath shrugged. "He said he had something to do and he'd be here as soon as he finished. Something to do with a message for his family, I think."

Thelea looked surreptitiously at Rurik, who arched his eyebrows just slightly. His family? Or someone else? "He'd better be here on time," was all she said aloud.

As if by magic, Giriad appeared, panting, and dropped into the seat to Rurik's left. "Sorry," he gasped. "My parents, my monthly holonet time, you understand." L'Grath and Thelea didn't say anything. They didn't even look at him. Rurik studied him out of the corner of his eye.

"Talking to your family?" he asked. When Giriad nodded, Rurik said, "Anything exciting going on back on Ashthera? Your father gotten himself off the black list yet?"

Giriad started up out of his seat, but L'Grath's hand fell on the Ashtheran's shoulder. "Easy, boy," he said. "Just ignore that." He shot Rurik a cold look, but the other shrugged unappologeticaly. If the kid was the traitor, then his opinion of Rurik wasn't going to be altered by a few snide remarks. Besides, traitor or not, he had it coming.

"Attention!" Commander Varkris stood near the holoprojector at the center of the room. "The Valiant has been chosen to spearhead our assault on the Rebel presence in this sector of space. This is a great honor. Our TIE squadrons will be personally responsible for the disabling and capture of the Rebel's starfighter base on the second moon of the gas giant Freidor." Alpha wing exchanged startled glances. "This is only a part of a coordinated strike against several Rebel installations. Vice-Admiral Thrawn will be briefing us momentarily from his flagship VSD Victorious."

Thelea froze. She honestly thought she stopped breathing as she waited for the holoprojector to come on. She had never seen him before, only heard stories of him, unfairly harsh stories or so she thought. Away from home, he was her only link to the answers, providing of course that he knew them. But what, exactly, did he look like? Was he really as brilliant as the stories claimed?

Rurik nudged her. "Wonder what part of the attack they'll put us on after that so-called report? Clean-up crew?" Exasperatedly she shushed him.

Varkris activated the holoprojector. For an instant, it displayed an image of VSD Victorious. Then, there was static, and it resolved itself into an image of a man in a white Vice-Admiral's uniform. Then it focused-

Rurik drew in a long breath. The man in the image, if man was the right word, was--he turned and stared at Thelea. At the center of the room, Commander Varkris announced, "Attention!" The pilots rose. "Vice-Admiral Thrawn."

Thrawn was an alien. Not only that, but that blue skin, red eyes, and the cobalt hair...."So that's why you were interested when they said we'd be in Admiral Thrawn's fleet," he murmured. Thelea didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the holo. She nodded slowly.

"Pilots," Thrawn began. He had a smooth, even voice. Rurik shivered. If Thelea's voice had more of an overtone of command, they would sound almost exactly alike. "You have been selected to lead the attack on the insurrectionist base at Freidor. To be selected for this assault is a great honor."

Thelea stared at the glowing red eyes, so like her own. Thrawn was tall, with a lean build. Like Thelea, he had cobalt-blue hair and powder-blue skin. His aristocratic features were all the more evident to her, knowing as she did what family he came from. He could help you. The thought came unbidden, from a source she didn't understand, but she had never been as certain of anything. He knows something. He can help.

"The Valiant will drop out of hyperspace within striking range of Freidor," Thrawn said, and his image was replaced by a holo of Freidor. An image of the Valiant appeared over the moon. "The Valiant will then launch her Interceptor squadrons, who will destroy the base's starfighter defenses and provide cover for the bombers, who will assault the base directly, assisted by Victorious's turbolasers." The picture pulled back. "A Nebulon-B frigate and a Carrack-class attack cruiser will be stationed at the edge of the system. They will intercept any incoming or escaping craft. I trust that there will be very few of the later." The tone was mild, instructional, but there was no mistaking the threat behind those words. "The TIE Interceptor assault group will be headed by Alpha Wing, Avran L'Grath, commanding."

There was a murmur of surprise and apprehension. L'Grath started visibly, Giriad let out a low whistle, Rurik exclaimed, "I don't believe it," and Thelea could not move or even breathe. Why? You never do anything without a reason. Why us?

"After that report? Why?" L'Grath said. Hearing the echo of her own thoughts made her jump.

"They want to get rid of us?" Rurik suggested dryly. "You have to admit, point group is going to get chewed up."

"Maybe they figure they'll dispose of the embarrassments," Giriad said, and for just a minute, Rurik could have sworn that there was trace of unit pride in his voice. When he saw that they were looking at him in surprise, he added, "Well, some of this wing, anyway." Rurik studied the kid's face suspiciously, but Giriad didn't meet his eye.

Thelea barely noticed. She was suddenly aware of the eyes of all the others in the room, at least it seemed like everyone, were upon her, boring into her. There had been times when she was conscious of her differences, but now, when they saw that there was another, and that he was an admiral. Now what would they think? The worst part was, even she didn't know quite what to think. She had to speak to him, if only for a few moments.

Thrawn, of course, light-years away on his flagship, saw none of this. "This is a great honor, crew members of the Victorious. Success, for the glory of the Empire." The image blinked off.

"We make the hyperspace jump to Freidor in four hours," Varkris announced. "Be ready. For the glory of the Empire."

The pilots were noticeably hushed as they left the briefing room. Thelea lingered for a minute, waiting for the room to clear, for the eyes to leave her. Rurik waited, too, and fell into step beside her as she left. They didn't say anything for a minute, each keeping their gaze firmly on the deck ahead. Finally, Rurik said, "So, that's why you were so interested when you found out what fleet we'd be in."

Thelea nodded absently, her mind turning over minute details of the conversation. There had been an odd inflection in his voice when he'd dismissed them, she thought, an undertone a human wouldn't notice, but that she had heard plainly. There was a touch of irony there. Rurik's next words brought her to an abrupt halt, snapping her out of her revere.

"Is he a relative of yours?"

If Rurik had been surprised at the similarity, Thelea's reaction stunned him. She spun on her heel, her arm catching him across the chest. "If you had any idea what you'd just said--" Her words choked off in mid-sentence. Turning away, she lowered her eyes, her arm slackening abruptly.

Rurik stared at her. "I'm sorry." The words came out without thinking. She didn't respond. "I didn't know that it was such a...such an insult. I didn't mean it that way."

Her shoulders heaved with a long sigh. "I overreacted. You couldn't possibly understand." It was a close as she would come to an apology. "No. He's not related to me. At least, I don't think he is."

"You don't think he is?" Rurik echoed. She'd started walking again, and he found he was running to keep up with her. "What do you mean? You don't know who your relatives are?"

Thelea didn't answer for a long moment. He was only a human, not capable of understanding exactly what it meant to be as she was. Not only that, but it was hard to speak so openly to someone, anyone, after a lifetime of being no one. But she had already entrusted him with her life, and the success of her mission, by revealing what she knew about the traitor. He could still betray her.

Something told her he wouldn't.

"I am tal Kyrn," she said simply. "I am no one. I have no family. On my world, I am less than nothing. No matter what I do, until I know the names of my parents, what my name should be, I can never be anything."

Rurik was stunned. He had wondered why she insisted on everyone's use of her given name instead of what a human would consider her surname. He'd written it off as another strange alien convention. "Why? Are they dead?"

Thelea snorted grimly, allowing a trace of disgust to cross her normally impassive features. "It would be easier on me if it was that simple. I don't know. I assume so. Otherwise...." She shook her head violently, eyes lowered. "It's beside the point. What do you make of our orders?"

Rurik was momentarily thrown by the shift of topic. Thelea was staring straight ahead, eyes rigidly fixed on a point somewhere ahead of her. It was more than enough to tell him the topic was closed. "Um, I hadn't really thought about it. I guess they must be trying to dispose of us. Maybe it's the most obvious means of killing us." He glanced around surreptitiously before whispering out of the corner of his mouth, "Haven't you received any instructions from the you-know-who?"

Thelea glared at him, her eyes narrowing. "Who?" Rurik gave her a pointed look, and she sighed. "They don't talk to me about every mission, you know."

"Not much help then, are they?"

She lifted a blue-black eyebrow. "They saved your life in the Freidor asteroid belt, didn't they?" Rurik had no answer, and she sighed. "If we find something important, they'll let me know. Until then....well, sometimes a mission is just a mission." She stopped at a lift cluster. "I'll see you on the flight line."

***

On the Victorious's bridge, Captain Medreian paced back and forth slowly above the control pit. "Commander, what is the status of the fleet?"

Varkris looked up from the communications station. "The Predator and the Repressor have completed their jump to the Hafredes system, and the Terminator is preparing to go to her station. Iron Fist and Valiant both report successful jumps." Varkris turned and straightened, a little too self-consciously. "Sir, permission to speak freely."

Medreian raised an eyebrow, the only external sign of surprise. "Granted, Commander."

Varkris shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "Sir, the decision to use Alpha flight as the point group--"

Medreian cut the first officer off sharply. "That decision was not mine to make, Commander. That choice came from the Vice-Admiral."

"Sir, that's actually why I have some reservations about this," Varkris said. "Alpha is Lt. Commander Thelea's wing. She's--well, besides the fact that she's a woman, she's...you know."

"If the Academy saw fit to graduate her and send her to TIE flight school, who am I to question it?" The Captain's eyes wandered to the status boards. "Commander, if you're not going anywhere with this--"

"Captain, you saw Vice-Admiral Thrawn. You know what he is. Look at her! You know what she must be, and that's the only reason he--"

"What the Vice-Admiral is and what he isn't are completely irrelevant, Commander," Medreian said, raising his voice just enough so that the controllers in the crew pit could hear him. Might as well only make the speech once. "We have been given orders, which we will follow. Unless you think that Lord Vader or Fleet High Command should be consulted regarding your reservations?"

Varkris's throat tightened visibly. Fleet High Command would be bad enough. But Lord Vader had personally selected Thrawn's Victory-class group as part of his Outer Rim Fleet. Questioning the Dark Lord, even if only by implication, could be a fatal mistake. "No, sir," he said, subdued. "I apologize."

Medreian waved the first officer away with a distracted flick of the wrist. But as he turned to go, Varkris could have sworn he heard the Captain mutter under his breath, "The point group's going to get chewed to pieces, anyway."

Varkris's jaw clenched. That's what they'd thought with the first Freidor mission. They weren't supposed to come back, Thelea foremost among them. This time they had to be sure. He went to make sure that this time, the person responsible understood his orders. This time there would be no mistake.

One way or another, Alpha Wing was finished.

***

Thelea slipped into the cockpit of her Interceptor. She had heard the rumors of the new TIEs they were designing, and there were stories being told about a ship called a Skipray that would be more than a match for the Rebels' fighters. Thelea was looking forward to having shields, and, if the rumors were accurate, torpedoes and ion cannons, but something about the little Interceptors had an appeal for her. They were fast, agile, and powerful, and they handled delicately; far better than their TIE/In predecessors. They could outrun anything the Rebels had now, even these new A-wings. The speed was, at times, a disadvantage. There was a tendency to overshoot targets, especially the sluggish Ys. Sometimes the touchy handling made targeting difficult. Still, it was a determined little craft, and she liked to fly the Interceptor.

Not to mention that real pilots didn't need shields. She'd always felt that the lack of shields improved a pilot's skills. They were quicker to evade and more inclined to be cautious.

She flipped a few switches, watching with a taut, satisfied smile as the diagnostic reports came back. All good to go. The TIEs had been under intense security, with no one but pilots and crew, these supervised by stormtroopers, allowed near the fighters. Thelea was taking no chances, though. Her own programs came from a secure source, and if they said that the ship was fine, she believed it. For a moment, she wondered if she should have given Rurik the program as well. She shrugged it off. It was probably fine. Besides, she didn't trust him quite that far.

The hyperspace jump was complete fairly quickly. Thelea checked her breathing apparatus one last time, just as she felt the slight jolt that always accompanied the launching tractor. A quick flip of her wrist brought the Twin Ion Engines that gave the fighter its name to full power, and she turned the control yoke and swung the ship away from the bulk of the Victorious. Another tight turn and she was flying in close formation with the rest of Alpha Wing. They were in a classic point formation, with L'Grath in front, Thelea at his right, Rurik at the left and Giriad bringing up the rear. The other squadrons mimicked the form behind them, with the slow-moving bombers bringing up the rear.

"Keep tight now," L'Grath ordered. "No one fire until we're within range of the base or until the fighters get to us."

Thelea keyed her targeting computer. "There are three Ys on the pad. Looks like they're powering up." She frowned. "Where are the others? The advance reports said there should at least be an X-wing squadron here."

"Maybe they're under cover," Rurik suggested. There was a tense silence as they waited. The three Rebel fighters were indeed preparing to intercept the incoming Imperials, but where was their backup?

They didn't have a long time to wonder. According to the Interceptors' targeting computers, the Ys were now operational and accelerating towards the TIEs. "Alpha Leader?" Thelea asked uncertainly, as the distance between them and the rebels diminished and L'Grath did not give an order. "Shall we intercept?"

"Something's not right here," he said. "Something's wrong."

"No kidding," Rurik muttered. "Lead, permission to do an inspection flyby before we bomb the base."

L'Grath didn't answer for a minute. Thelea spotted the orange flashes of the rebels' lasers. L'Grath repeated softly, "Something's not right."

Thelea'd had enough. "Gamma group, Iota group, this is Alpha Two. Accelerate to attack speed and engage those Y-wings. Try to disable one and take the pilot alive. Bomber group Beta and Delta, hold off on your attack run until we complete a flyby."

Gamma leader, sounding uncertain, replied, "Alpha Two, is something wrong with Alpha Leader?"

"Negative, Gamma Leader," L'Grath broke in. "Obey those orders."

Thelea accelerated, shooting past L'Grath. There was no word of reprimand, which was itself unusual. Rurik, and, to her surprise, Giriad, followed her towards the base. The Y-wings shot by, firing only a few shots at them. Green bolts arced by--Gamma and Iota obeying their instructions. L'Grath, seeming to hesitate, pulled in behind them. "See anything?" Thelea asked.

"Negative," Rurik said, sounding more than a little suspicious. "The place looks dead."

Thelea stared at the scanners. "There's no life. Nowhere. The place is totally abandoned. There's not even any signs of droid activity."

"That can't be right," Giriad said. "They couldn't have abandoned the base without us seeing."

Thelea swung her fighter low over the base. Even the turbo laser batteries did not swing to follow them with their guns. Behind them, the Ys were being torn apart by the far superior Interceptors. As per her orders, one fighter, crippled, was drifting above them, and the targeting computer registered a shuttle on its way from the Valiant to retrieve the captured rebel. "They could have," she said, almost too quietly to hear, "if they'd known we were coming."

"How could they know?" Giriad protested. "We made the jump to hyperspace as soon as the briefing ended. No one could have alerted the Rebels before we arrived."

"Perhaps they were scared off after our raid on the supply dump," L'Grath suggested. "They may have been gone while the mission was still being planned."

Thelea studied the readout. There were still faint heat blooms from the main hangar bay, the residue of recent activities and takeoffs, far too many to be from the three lone Ys. But heat dissipated rapidly. The ships had probably left no more than a half an hour before the Imperials' arrival. That barely gave them time to get the cargo transports loaded and away. There was also no sign of the normal devastation of an abandoned base that resulted when the Rebels destroyed any equipment left behind. No, these people had left in a hurry, and not too long ago.

"No, they just left," she said, more to herself than to the others. "Just before we arrived. They were warned." She keyed her comlink. "Beta group, Delta Group, take out the perimeter defenses, but leave the main base intact. They left in an awful hurry. They made have just made a mistake."

"They may have also left booby traps," L'Grath said. "Better to follow the mission plan."

"What's the point?" Thelea demanded. "They're gone. Slagging the base may destroy any evidence they left as to who tipped them off."

"You think the Rebels would be careless enough to leave a name behind?" L'Grath snorted. "They may be outlaws, but they're not stupid."

"We can't take that risk," Thelea snapped. "Beta, Delta, you have your orders. Inform the Victorious. There's something going on here, and we have to find out what."

The TIEs swept down over the abandoned station, all but one oblivious to the tiny observer nearby. Concealed in the asteroid belt, Alliance probe PB-421 relayed the movements of the little fighters out on a tight-beam, highly secure channel. The only person who knew how to listen for the probe's faint voice, the one among them who'd supplied the secure channel to the probe, was keeping perfectly, devastatingly, silent.

***

Light-years away, the Rebel frigate Wind Hammer monitored PB-421's signals. "Looks like we beat them, sir," First Lieutenant Kesk Drei'lya said from the communications station. Captain Anies Chaldar didn't allow a smile to lift her war-worn features, but the Alderaani woman did offer a nod of agreement. "And none to soon. Terrible that we had to loose those Y-wings, though. We shouldn't have let them stay to wipe the computer."

"You prefer the Imps finding it and figuring out where we went?" Drei'lya said rhetorically. Chaldar didn't bother to answer. "Anyway," the Bothan continued, "if our friends can keep up this level of contribution, there's no chance of them finding out where we've gone."

Chaldar shot him a severe glare. Mentioning their contacts within the Imperial fleet, even in an ostensibly secure location, was never a wise idea. One never knew who was listening. "Regardless, we can never take chances." The Bothan's fur rippled, then flattened, in a sign of agreement. The Captain straightened her shoulders. "We'd better begin making sure they can't follow us. Helm, get ready to plot six jumps, changing course each time. No one should be able to follow us through that. The next report from Intelligence will tell us if those Y-wing pilots' sacrifice was worth it."

***

VSD Victorious was an enormous ship by almost any world's standards. She boasted over five thousand crew, not including her stormtrooper contingent, and she easily dwarfed even the largest, most opulent luxury cruisers ever designed. But she was still small beside a newer Imperial-class destroyer, and now, hovering in the shadow of the Empire's greatest creation since the ill-fated Death Star, she seemed little more than a child's toy. The Super Star Destroyer Executor, one of only four SSDs yet builtt, a long, ebony, dagger hanging in the starscape, made all the rest of the Empire's technical marvels pale in comparison.

If the Victorious was reduced to toy-like insignificance by the immense vessel, the Lambda-class shuttle traveling between the two seemed no larger than a Tatooinian sand mite on a bantha's back. To observers on the Victorious, the shuttle became smaller and smaller until it seemed to vanish against the Super Star Destroyer's bulk. To those on board the little ship, the Executor grew until it filled every inch of the viewscreen, and its docking bay, their target, gaped like a mouth in the vessel's side. The two pilots exchanged nervous glances, neither daring to voice the question both were thinking: would they return to the Victorious with or without their current passenger?

The passenger himself was not as anxious. His alien features hid any apprehensions he might have been feeling about his rapidly approaching meeting with the Dark Lord. But then again, Admiral Thrawn had never been one to be intimidated by authority. It was an old habit with him. Sometimes, it was advantageous to be able to speak his mind without fear of those he was addressing. Unfortunately, that usually meant those he was addressing were not always pleased with his remarks. More than once, he'd found himself in unpleasant situations because he hadn't had the tact--some might say the good sense--to couch his remarks in sycophantic phrases. As if such artifice would impress Lord Vader, anyway. Once aboard the Executor, the Admiral was escorted by two stormtroopers to Vader's private meditation chamber. Thrawn could not tell from their manner whether the troopers were there as an honor guard or to guard him as a prisoner. Standing before the Dark Lord, he wished there was something in the room to give him an idea about what Vader might be thinking. The chamber, however, was bare of all decoration, and, as far as all his covert investigation could uncover, Vader had almost no personal possessions of any kind, let alone any artwork. With the skull-like mask over his features, his expression gave no clue to his thoughts.

They stood there, silent, for a long moment, each man surveying the other carefully, as if waiting for him to make the first move. Finally, Vader spoke. "I suppose you have an explanation, Vice Admiral?"

Thrawn nodded tightly. "A very simple one, Lord Vader. The rebels were warned in advance, as I told you they would be if you insisted this mission proceed without sufficient security. We did not have time to ascertain the identity of the spy, and therefore our mission was compromised yet again."

"You have evidence, I hope, that this spy is more than a convenient excuse for successive failures." The threat in Vader's tone was evident.

"Yes, Lord Vader, I do," Thrawn said, opening a pale blue hand to reveal a datachip. "This is a holorecording of the interrogation of the pilot we captured during the assault. He did require a long period of convincing before he was willing to reveal what he knew about the informant in our fleet." Thrawn allowed a dry smile to cross his features. "After he finally broke, he was not able to provide us with a name for the traitor, but the did say that it was known among the rebel pilots that the informant was associated with our TIE squadrons."

Vader didn't reply for a long moment. The black-cloaked figure was motionless, the heavy cape not even stirring with the faint breeze from the air recycling vents. Only the sound of the mechanical breathing said that he was anything more than a great black statue. Finally, the Sith Lord said, "Wasn't the same squadron involved with the earlier debacle at Freidor? An alien is a member of that squadron, as I recall."

Thrawn froze, still as Vader had been a minute before. Forcing the words around taut vocal cords, he said, "The other three members of the squadron are far more likely suspects."

Vader interrupted, "I know, Admiral. But I am very interested in this alien." He seemed to take almost a delight in using the word. "I have reports from sources within the fleet that she is one of the most promising of our pilots. Almost supernaturally so."

The Inner Circle, Thrawn thought. He had never actually spoken to a member of that group, but he did know a little about them. Rumors said they were Force-adepts who worked directly for the Emperor. Then Vader's last words registered. "Supernaturally?" he asked, careful to keep his voice in check. "You don't think that she's a Force-sensitive?"

He pictured a smile on whatever features lay hidden behind the death's head. "Possibly. It is of little consequence, at least for the moment. Unless, of course, she turns out to be the spy. In which case, she would be a Rebel, and a potential Jedi at that. As such she would be subject to summary execution."

"She is not, Lord Vader," Thrawn said, more forcefully than he'd intended.

Vader ignored the remark. "The problem is within your fleet, Admiral. If, as you say, the fault is with a spy, this traitor must be found. Uncover the traitor's identity, Admiral Thrawn. If you fail to rectify the problem, whatever the cause, you know the consequences."

The bow was, perhaps, a little slow in coming. Thawn inclined his head in acquiescence. "As you say, Lord Vader." The meditation chamber closed, but Thrawn maintained his impassive facade long after it had; until, in fact, he was safely aboard his flagship again. Then, and only then, did he let his displeasure show. Identifying the traitor did not disturb him as much as Vader's implications about the girl. If she were Force-sensitive, it could only be the worse for her. He leaned back in the chair of his command room. L'Grath, then, or Caelin, or Quoris. One of them.

He sighed. Identifying the traitor was no longer simply an idle exercise in deduction. Vader was not a man to be taken lightly when he made threats. Best that he get started. Keying his control pad, he brought up a display of artwork from Ashthera.

***

"What was that all about? You assured me that they'd be dealt with!"

Varkris cringed under his superior's onslaught. "Sir, with all due respect, I tried. How was I supposed to know that the rebels would evacuate before a battle could take place? It would be difficult to say they died in friendly crossfire if no one was shooting!"

The voice on the other end of the audio-only link didn't sound placated in the least. "Your operative couldn't arrange for anything?"

"Not without blowing his cover. Look, with all due respect, I said we'd eliminate all three and we will. It's just that with the rebels apparently getting inside information about fleet activity, it's a bit dicey around here. We should wait until things cool down."

"I'm getting impatient, Commander Varkris," the other said cooly. "Our plans cannot afford having people such as them around when we execute them. I want them dead, and I want it done soon! Next time I want their corpses, not excuses!"

"Understood," Varkris said, even as the comm shut off. He leaned back in the stiff metal chair, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This time, there could be no mistakes. This time, he would do it himself. They would die, or next time, his punishment would be far more severe than a bawling-out over the comm. If Alpha wing still existed the next time they asked, his reprimand would be swift and personal. Very, very, personal.