“Fighters of the Empire. Stand down your weapon systems and prepare to be escorted to the Sky Platform of the mighty Creysis, leader of the Ebruchi Clan. Due to the actions of your Grand Admiral Mitt…” A monotone voice spoke.

Phalanx flipped his frequency over to a private line, already alive with chatter. “Get a tight-line communication out to the VicStar…” That was 5’s voice.

“All ready being done,” a Jaket Squadron replied.

“Let’s fight it out,” another Jaket Squadron commented.

“We’d never make it. The Eubrichian Pirates are studs. Plus, we don’t know the capabilities of those [TIE] fighters.” Gold refuted the suggestion.

“Message sent.” The first Jaket Squadron interrupted.
“How long til the VicStar’s here?” Phalanx asked.

There was a pause, “ETA 4 Minutes… Wake Squadron’ll be here in 2.” Jaket’s XO answered.

“Then we accept the invitation, and cause a fire fight. We can drop all power ‘cept for life support and minimal laser wall. When we’re close, we pop them.” Bop came up with this idea.

“It’s to risky…” Phalanx spoke, “Because of our proximity, any stray debris would kill us instantly. We stall until the rest of Wake gets here. Then we stall even more until the VicStar gets here.”

Gold spoke, “Swoops over there’s got the best idea. We stall. Break off into flight groups. Run and shoot is your orders.”

Three Flight broke off, taking with them four enemy [TIE] fighters. Phalanx corkscrewed his Defender, falling into the lead of the fighter Flight. He tail stalled his fighter, reverted 180 degrees, and lined up a shot at one of the enemy [TIE] fighters. The pilot of the [TIE] Fighter must’ve been worse than the droid brains of the ovals; he let the laser shots hit bull’s eye, tearing apart the oddly placed fuelsage, and turning the [TIE] fighter into an inferno.

“They don’t have shields either…” Bop exclaimed with bewilderment in his voice. “Why aren’t they evading our shots?” he further exclaimed.

“They don’t have aerodynamic engine flutters,” 11 gave the answered as Phalanx and 5 both tore apart another [TIE] Fighter.

“Wait a second!” Phalanx blew apart his third [TIE] Fighter, “These are the Ebruchi Pirates. I learned about them in 10th Level Unknown Regions Studies back on Bastion. Admiral Thrawn screwed them over in an anticipated star ship hijacking, which the Ebruchi based their entire fleet off of. No specifics were ever mentioned to my recollection, but shields and engines must’ve been some of the things Thrawn screwed them on.”

“Then that means their sky platform shouldn’t have shields either…” Gold Leader interrupted. “JakeTWake,” he slurred the words together, “form up in Ackbar Slash and punish the sky hook.” 15 double clicks followed.

The 16 fighters melded together in a triangle formation. Phalanx was somewhere near the middle of the formation surrounded by his Wake squadron comrades. He toggled his weapons over to Concussion missiles, dual fire. A gauge ticked down his probability of accuracy. Once it reached 75%, Phalanx let a round of Concussion Missiles loose, along with the 30 of his comrades.

Tails of superheated blue followed the white orbital of each concussion missile. The tails faded into nothing as the orbital slammed into the unshielded sky platform, sending metal debris, explosions, and atmosphere into space.

“Ebruchi Pirates, Jaket Squadron will accept your surrender to the Sovereign Forces of the New Order.” Gold Leader notified the space station of its sole option. “I expect an answer within the next two minutes or Jaket Squadron and our four Wakes will continue under military authority to destroy your compound.”

The sixteen TIE Defenders raced around the disabled station, re-broadcasting the message every few minutes. With thirty seconds remaining in the Ebruchi Pirate’s timeline, the communications unit cackled to life. “The clan shall not surrender to the Empire who betrayed us once already.”
“So be it. Helska Group, you have permission to destroy the sky platform.” Gold Leader whispered across the communications channel. Laser fire once again lit space. Once again, the energy ripped apart pieces of the station’s shieldless hull. Phalanx let loose another two concussion missiles, resulting in the collapse of a key infrastructure support system. Another fiery inferno took up space, this time the inferno being the death of the sky platform commanded by the Ebruchi.

“Wakes, you are free to rendezvous with your squadron again and with the Victory Class Star Destroyer. We’ll do any cleanup here.” Gold leader sent the Wake’s away.
Phalanx parade looped his TIE Defender around Jaket Squadron.

Three Flight sped off into the horizon to meet back up with their squadron.

***

Phalanx’s TIE Defender eased onto a soft clump of Helskan permafrost inside Base Camp Hangar Bay. He propped open his dorsal hatch and climbed out of the snubfighter. Steam rose off of Phalanx’s sweating body. Immediately, a Base Camp crew member rushed over to Phalanx, wrapping a heavy wool blanket around the wet body to prevent hypothermia.
Beside Phalanx, eleven other snubfighters landed with their pilots getting out. Each pilot received a blanket just like Phalanx. The rest of Three flight walked over to the rookie pilot, Phalanx Allger. They gave him congratulatory handshakes while the rest of Wake Squadron came over to inquire about the events that transpired above Helska.

“You all should’ve seen Phalanx flying out there like he was Soointer Fel! POW, POW, BANG! Those weird TIE Fighters and that space station all went down by the shot of Swoops.” Bop retold the rest of Wake Squadron. In the back of the crowd, Ian stood propped against his TIE Defender gathering the story with a wide smile.

The crow dispersed after awhile, heading towards the hastily constructed and named Base Camp Lounge for some drinks, all of which were covered by the Empire’s tax paying tab. At the lounge, Three Flight told their adventure to Wake Squadron over and over, and they told their story to any Base Camp personnel that happened to walk into the lounge.

The Jaket Squadron members sauntered into Base Camp Lounge after the skies had been secured. All of them were dressed in green flight suits—Jaket Squadron’s color—except for one who was dressed in Gold. Phalanx hypothesized the man dressed in gold was the leader of Jaket Squadron.
“Where’s those drinks you owe us, Three Flight?” Gold spoke.
Bop cupped his hand to Phalanx’s ear. “That’s Ryan Bar, otherwise known as Gold Leader,” Bop whispered. Phalanx nodded his head in understanding.
“The rookie will cover it!” Five and eleven chimed.
Phalanx cowered behind Bop, not wanting to pick up the tab.
“Where is that rookie? Swoops was it?” Bar asked.
Bop moved away from Phalanx, revealing him to Jaket Squadron. “Here’s Phalanx, otherwise known as Swoops. He’s trying to evade that hefty tab!” Bop said enthusiastically.
Ryan Bar crossed the room, stepping over reclining Wake Squadron members. “Put it here, Swoops,” Ryan Bar extended his hand to be shaken. “Your flying was amazing out there for a rookie. I think I’ll steal you over to my squadron.”
“Oh no you won’t!” Ian argued. “The only reason he’d be going over to you Jakets is cause he is so much better at flying than you guys.”
Ryan Bar cringed at this comment, then smiled. “Well, it seems Commander Ian has just volunteered to pick up our tab and treat us Jakets to drinks.”
Ian surrendered, pulling out a large credit tab. He handed it to Ryan Bar who pocketed it with a smile. Phalanx smiled, too. He found a fun pilot’s life more rewarding than the scum of Swoop Racing. Oh, how not boring Helska was.


The next morning, after a dream filled night on a hard cot inside the heat-lacking Base Camp temporary barracks, Phalanx walked to the hangar bays alone clad only in sweat pants another Under Armor shirt and a Wake Squadron wind breaker with the words Swoops stitched in italics.

He walked alone to his TIE Defender, lightly scorched with marks from debris, atmosphere, and stray laser blasts. Next to the TIE Defender was a can of paint. Phalanx picked the can up and dipped the paintbrush into it.

Carefully, Phalanx painted three ovals, colored in black. After that, he painted six vertical bars with round cockpits in the middle. Finally, he painted a Skyhook Space Defense Platform. In the center of the platform, he wrote ‘Ebruchi, Helska Campaign.’

“Nice job, ace.” Wake Squadron Commander Ian placed a hand on Phalanx’s left shoulder. “I told you if you saw action I’d expect you to become an ace. 7 kills in one run. Not too shabby there.”

Stepping in unison with the chur chunking of an AT-ST walking patrol outside, Wake Squadron Executive Officer Nora Downing came into the room, not visible to Phalanx’s turned body.

“On behalf of the New Order, I, Wake Squadron Commander Amad Ian, present to you, Flight Officer Phalanx, Swoops, Allger, with Executive Officer Nora Downing in witness, your Imperial wings and rank of Flight Lieutenant, First Tier for your remarkable flying and initiative during the Helska Campaign.”
Ian smiled and pulled a leather case from his pocket. He flipped it open. Inside was a Lieutenant, First Tier, bar and a copper medal of achievement. Also, Imperial Wings with the Imperial Insignia was in the case. Phalanx took it with a wide smile, shaking his Commander’s hand vigorously.

“It looks like you’ll work out good here in Wake Squadron, Phalanx. Glad you joined.” Ian wrapped his arm around Phalanx. “That sure wasn’t bad for your first run. Not too bad at All, Phalanx Allger.”

The two walked off, leaving Nora to clean up the paint. Phalanx’s mind raced. With all the unexpected action,

Phalanx looked forward to his next Imperial Campaign, as did the Supreme Imperial Command.