Title:           DangerZone
Author:          DangerZone
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/gznzfxeh
First Edit:      Sunday 29th of November 2015 06:08:14 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Sunday 21st of February 2016 07:35:57 PM CDT

>You ran your hand along the underside of the A-wing, the cold metal chilling your fingers as the reality of it all began to seep in.
>The sun was just starting to rise on Coruscant, the organized rows of starfighters being coated in rays of gold and orange as they cast long shadows down the hangar bay.
>You were nearing the end of your training as a padawan, and the Masters were giving their final exams on basic skills before they sent you off on the dreaded Trials.
>The past couple of months you felt like you lived out of the flight simulator.
>It’d be nice to get this over with, but you had mixed feelings of relief and anxiety as the actual thing was staring you in the face.
>The sleek starfighter was especially eye-catching; from the nose to the engines every part of it emanated speed.
>This particular one was a two-man training variant, with the cockpit extending further back to accommodate the extra seat.
>The white paint on the wings and fins was interrupted by a dark crimson streak down the center of the hull, the color indicating its respective squadron.
>The A-wing had always been a favorite among starfighter aces, and the latest edition became a quick favorite of the New Jedi Order.
>Not just because of its resemblance to starfighters of the Old Republic, but in the hands of a trained Force-user it could become a terrifyingly destructive weapon on the battlefield.
>Master Spitfire had gathered all the padawans in the hangar so she could start her safety brief.
>The last few people were trickling in and making last minute checks on their flight suits.
>Aside from some hushed small talk and the occasional sound of machinery, the hangar was eerily quiet.
>Guess you weren’t the only one feeling a little uneasy.
 
>”You alright?”
>Applejack was looking up at you, giving you a slight smile while she bent over adjusting the straps on her harness.
>Her usual ponytail was fixed into a loose bun and the top of her orange flight suit was hanging at her waist exposing a white tank-top.
>”Ya nervous?” she teased.
“How’d you guess.”
>She stands up and puts a hand on her hip, “You’ll do fine sugarcube. I remember watching you the first day in the simulator. You were a natural!”
”Yeah, I was doing great until I, you know, crashed.”
>”Don’t be so hard on yourself, you were still a beginner then after all. You were givin’ even Rainbow a run for her money in that last combat exercise!”
“Still shot me down, should’ve seen her coming too.”
>”Hindsight’s always 20/20 ya know. You really oughta have more confidence in yourself!”
“My fuck ups aside, I’m more worried about you AJ.  It took you three tries to pass that last battle simulation. Not to mention that time you accidentally shot me down cause you didn’t turn your targeting computer on. And just last week you crashed ten seconds after you took-”
>A swift punch to your side interrupts you.
>”Alright already, ya made your point. Besides, I spent all weekend cooped up in that damn simulator practicin’. I’ll be fine… I think…”, her eyes shifting from you to the ship.
 
>You jump as a blue arm wraps around your shoulders.
>”Heya dude! Sup Applecrash.”
>Applejack pretends to ignore her as she keeps messing with her gear.
>You look over at the rainbow-haired Pantoran, her messy bangs dangled just over her forehead, while the rest of her hair was in a bun similar to AJ’s.
>Rainbow Dash lacked the traditional facial tattoos of her species, having grown up in a human orphanage.
>Her bright magenta eyes also differed from the Pantorans’ usual yellow.
>She figured she was probably only half.
>”Whaddya want, a kiss or something?”
>You realize you had been staring at her and shove her away.
>She giggles as feel your face turning red.
>”You’re way too easy to tease Anon!”
>Applejack perks up, “He’s just on edge about flying today is all, why don’t ya leave him alone?
“It’s fine AJ, but yeah, I guess I’m feeling just a little nervous.”
>Rainbow looks at you in shock, “Whaaat? Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? You’re like the best pilot here, well aside from me of course.” she points her thumb to her chest.
>Applejack purses her lips and walks over to her, “I think in order to be the ‘best pilot’, you have to be able to take off, AND land. When are ya gonna learn that to stop, you actually have to slow down first? If you wreck the ACTUAL hangar you can kiss your flying days goodbye!”
>Rainbow walks in front of you, getting face to face with AJ.
>”Oh I’m sorry, at least I can actually take off in the first place! And maybe it would help YOU if you knew what an enemy starfighter looked like!”
 
>The tension is broken at the sound of the doors behind you slamming open.
>”Attention on deck!”
>You snap to attention, the collective sound of everyone’s boots making sharp thud.
>Master Spitfire steps in front of the group, the Mirialan wearing a flight suit like yours and carrying her trademark blue and yellow helmet. Her short orange hair bobbing as she walked.
>”At ease, gents.”
>Everyone shifts position again, placing their hands behind their backs.
>While the Jedi Order as a whole wasn’t militaristic, the Starfighter Corps types took their naval traditions seriously.
>Spitfire sets her helmet down as she crosses her arms.
>”Now look here, I’m not gonna waste your time with some big speech about how you all need to pay attention and focus. You know what you need to do, and I don’t think I need to-Applejack!”
>AJ jolts at hearing her name, “Ye-Yes Master?”
>”You think you’re some kinda cowgirl? You’ve got exactly five seconds to put that flight suit on correctly before you’re running laps around the hangar!”
>”Yes Master!” she hastily pulls her arms through her sleeves.
>Rainbow stifles a snicker.
 
>”Now then, I realize for most of you this is your first time in a real starfighter.”
>You hear a scoff from Rainbow, “Psh, most of us…”
>”But,” Spitfire continues, “that’s no excuse for being sloppy. You’ve all spent these last months getting ready for this. Don’t start getting nervous,” she scowls at Rainbow Dash, “or too cocky. Keep your emotions in check or you’ll never make it through my obstacle course, much less the Trials.”
>She starts to pace back and forth, “Now I know what some of you are thinking, ’Bu-but Master Spitfire, I don’t even want to join the Starfighter Corps, I just wanna be a pansy-ass diplomat when I grow up.’”
>She gets a few suppressed chuckles from the crowd.
>”Well guess what, doesn’t matter what your job is, anyone can find themselves under fire. When you’re in Wild Space on a mission to some Force-forsaken rock and you’re ambushed by Trianii pirates, maybe then you’ll wish you took piloting a little more seriously.”
>That was oddly specific.
 
>Spitfire unfolds her arms and eyes her datapad.
>You pull one out yourself, ready to copy down her brief.
>”We’ve got a lot of you to get through the obstacle course today, so in the interest of time I went ahead and completed the pre-flight checks before you all arrived.”
>”I know you’ve all been practicing flying solo, but I’ll be riding backseat making sure you don’t kill yourselves. My call sign will be red leader, and for instructional purposes all of you will be red two.”
>“Radio freqs and the flight plan are all programmed in. The course is obviously planet side, so no hyperspace coordinates.”
>You put your datapad away having written nothing down, expediency was the name of the game today it seems.
>”As you know, we record all of our training flights for review, we’ll have cameras both in the cockpit and at the range itself so the rest of the class can watch while you embarrass yourself.”
>She briefly glances up, her voice taking a sterner tone.
>”If shit hits the fan out there, do not eject. I repeat, do not fucking eject. I’ve been through my fair share of malfunctions and unless I think I can’t fix it I, and I alone will make that call, understood?”
>A resounding ‘Yes Master’ filled the hangar.
“Anyone have anything for me?”
>Her question is met with a sea of blank faces.
>Spitfire puts her datapad down, eyeing the group with a sly grin.
>”Good to go, you fuckers ready to do this?”
>Another ‘Yes Master’ louder and more confident than the first echoes through the bay.
 
>”Alright, first up is…”
>Please don’t be me
>Please don’t be me
>”Padawan Anonymous!”
>fuck
>A blue hand grabs your shoulder, “Kick some ass out there, bro!”
>Applejack nods at you.
>”Hang in there Anon, you’ve got this.”
>Thanking them for the words of encouragement, you pick up your helmet and step forward.
>You take a deep breath as you make your way to the ladder.
>It’s just like the simulation, that’s all you need to think of it as, just another day in the simulator.
>You repeat this a few times in your head.
>Spitfire was already getting situated in the back seat, tightening the shoulder harnesses and making some basic systems checks.
>You toss your helmet into the cockpit and climb up the ladder.
>”Don’t throw the helmets Anon, we’ve been over this…”
“Sorry Master.”
>Taking a seat, you glance over the controls as you strap yourself in.
>With one last look at your friends, you pull your helmet over your head and ease the canopy down.
>Applejack’s waving at you and Rainbow gives you a playful salute.
>You can do this.
[spoiler]cue dangerzone[/spoiler]
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTmViRQGNb8
>You plug your helmet into a jack behind you and flick two switches to your right.
>The dashboard lights up, producing a low hum in the background.
>Hitting four switches on your left, the engines behind you emit a dull roar as they sputter to life.
>The maintenance crew runs around the starfighter, pulling the ladder away and removing the landing gear restraints.
“Red leader, this is Red Two, do you read?”
>Spitfire’s voice crackles through your headset “Got ya Lima Charlie Red Two.”
>You push the outbound button on your transponder.
“Tower, this is Red Two, radio check, over.”
>”Roger Red Two, five by five.”
>The engines are getting louder, rising in pitch as they heat up.
>A subtle vibration begins to permeate the cockpit.
>You boot the primary computer and go over your gauges as it initiates a systems check.
>The female voice of the computer chimes in your ear.
>”Reactor online.”
>”Sensors online.”
>”Weapons online.”
>”All systems nominal.”
>Your visor lights up with a heads up display of a target reticle and speed and altitude scales.
 
>Checking the function of the missile launchers in the wings, you hear them make a satisfying metallic kthunk as they cycle through.
>Moving the joystick side to side, you glance behind as the thrust vectors on the fins wave back.
>The sound of the engines was becoming deafening, even with your helmet on.
>The crew chief gives you a thumbs up, followed by a sharp salute.
“Tower, this is Red Two, request permission for take off, heading two seven at five zero, clearance Whiskey-one-niner-eight.”
>You make some last minute adjustments to the targeting computer as you wait to hear back.
>”Roger Red Two, two seven at five zero, Whiskey-one-niner-eight confirmed. Cleared for take off. Have fun out there.”
>Smiling at that last remark, you engage the throttle.
>The high pitched squeal of the engines turns to a thunderous bass as you feel the ship begin to lift off the ground.
>You watch as your classmates slowly start to sink below you.
>The A-wing rattles as the landing gear are locked inside the hull, and bobs up and down as you turn it towards the hangar exit.
>Giving a small push on the throttle you taxi it out, the neat rows of X-wings passing beneath you.
>Spitfire comes in over the radio, “Alright, you’re clear of the hangar. Punch it kid!”
 
>You throw the throttle forward and pull back on the joystick. There’s a brief pause as the engines roar to life leading into a loud boom, and instantly you’re pushed into your seat as Coruscant disappears behind you.
>A surge of adrenalin overtakes your body as you watch the ground speed away.
>The simulator had nothing on this.
>Clouds rush past as you keep gaining altitude.
>The stress of the acceleration was causing the fighter to shake a bit more than you were comfortable with, causing you to nervously pull back on the throttle.
>”Adjust heading, uh, two nine at seven zero, we’ll be at the course in a few minutes.”
“Copy that.”
>You look out the window as you make a slight right bank, the edges of your wings forming contrails behind you. Looking down, it was hard not to admire the view.
>The edge of space made a distinctive contrast with the hazy atmosphere of Coruscant below.
>The planet had its own beauty about it, and with the rising sun casting red and yellow hues over the clouds and endless array of skyscrapers, it was truly a-
>”Stay frosty, you’re not here to take in the scenery.”
>Spitfire’s voice snaps you back into the moment.
>”Descend, you’re pushing seven three.”
“Roger, sorry.”
>”We should be coming up on it soon, just hang tight.”
 
>The skyscrapers began to disappear over the horizon as the terrain seemed to level out.
>”We’re entering restricted airspace now. Drop your speed a bit while I send over the clearances.”
>You pull back on the throttle, looking around at your new surroundings.
>As far as you could see the towering skyscrapers had all but disappeared.
>All the way to the horizon was an empty flat stretch of gray machinery.
>Was this the obstacle course?
>Didn’t look like there was much to run into.
>To be honest you didn’t know exactly what to expect.
>Your mind wanders back to your classmates watching your every move back at the Temple.
>The endless torment you’d get from Rainbow if you fucked up was all the motivation you needed.
>Spitfire comes in again, “Alright, we’re set. You might wanna pick up your speed.”
>An enormous number of black dots suddenly appear over the horizon.
>”That’s it right there, maintain heading.”
>Picking up speed, the wall of debris comes into focus.
>It’s an asteroid field.
>On Coruscant?
>”Beautiful ain’t it?”
“You and I have very different interpretations of the word beautiful, Master.”
>The asteroid field edges closer, your hand is white knuckled on the throttle.
“This can’t be real, they’re just holograms right? They can’t actually hurt us?”
>”I suggest you make it your goal not to find out.”
 
 “But you expect me to navigate an asteroid field in this thing? What if I lose control, or-“
>Spitfire cuts you off. “Don’t let doubt overtake you. Think of it this way, if you can make it through in this baby, you can do it with anything.”
>Yes, my confidence was absolutely brimming.
>The A-wing was fast, and it had the maneuverability to boot, but even for experienced pilots it often tended to be too much to handle.
>”Gotta use more than just your eyes to make it through kid.”
>You nod to yourself, understanding what she meant.
>You didn’t spend three months in that Force-forsaken simulator just to get cold feet now.
>Just as you close your eyes, your brief meditation is interrupted by two beeps on your radar.
>Two objects were headed towards you several thousand meters out.
>They had to make this interesting didn’t they?
>Even at this distance you could just make out what they were.
>Oh sithspit.
>The computer lights up your HUD as it confirms your worst suspicions.
 
>Incoming starfighters
>TIE/D Defender
>TIE/D Defender
 
>Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath.
“Two marks, one o’clock at minus one five, approaching at eight, one, zero knots. Moving to engage.”
>They were fast. Really fast.
>”Copy Red Two, let’s see what you’ve got!”
>You flip open a red switch next to the throttle, revealing a button beneath it. Edging the throttle forward, you brace yourself.
>Pressing the button down, your afterburners engage with a fiery scream.
>The thrust nozzles on your engines flare out as you’re pushed deep into your seat.
>A pressure wave forms at the nose of the ship and swiftly passes over the cockpit. Glancing behind, you see a conical cloud of vapor trailing your rear.
>Bet Rainbow was needing a change of pants right about now.
>It feels like the ship’s going to shake itself apart, but you manage to calm yourself and press on.
>Entering the asteroid field, you disengage the afterburners and take a sharp dive to avoid the floating rock in front you.
>Pulling out of it your ship turns on its side as you make a hard left turn, pulling up into a tight roll through a hole in an asteroid above you.
>Your feel your flight suit tighten around your legs as it compensates for the g-forces.
>You barely manage to make out Spitfire as you fight to stay conscious.
>”Keep breathing!”
>You notice you’re holding your breath, scooping air into your lungs in quick bursts like they taught you.
>”Stay cool, that was only 7Gs. Easy day.”
>Only seven she says.
 
>You level out, banking right into a roll as another asteroid passes in front you.
>The radar makes another set of beeps as it signals that the enemy fighters are coming within range.
>You look around; they should be directly ahead of you. Where were these fuckers?
>You pull up over the rock ahead of you and ease down.
>There they were.
>And heading straight for you.
>Taking aim, you hit a button on your joystick.
”Target set, acquiring lock.”
>The internal machinery jerks the hull as it preps a pair of concussion missiles for launch.
>Just a little closer.
>You weave through another set of asteroids as your targets briefly drop from view.
>Pushing the throttle up, the distance gauge on your targeting computer edges closer to zero.
>Come on, just a little-
>A grating alarm rings throughout the cockpit, instinctively you glance down at your warning indicators.
“Missile lock!? Are you kidding me?”
>”If you actually studied you’d know they outrange you! Focus up you’ve got incoming!”
 
>Looking back up you see four glowing red proton torpedoes homing in on your position.
>Jerking the joystick back as far as it can go, you hit the afterburners, nearly accelerating into an asteroid as you continue to pull up into a loop leaving a pair of contrails behind you.
>Coruscant disappears as the blackness of space fills your vision. The stars zooming past until the planet comes back into view.
>You quickly spin your ship around, frantically checking your six.
>Looks like two of them hit the asteroid you narrowly avoided.
>The rest were still hot on your tail.
>Flipping the ship upside down again, you go into a nose dive releasing several white flares from your underbelly.
>Two explosions behind you confirm they took the bait.
>Spitfire’s laughing over the comms.
>”Seriously, you didn’t think it would be THAT easy did you?”
>”Time to start using that brain of yours!”
 
>Coming out of the dive you’re greeted by a volley of green laser blasts as the enemy ships close in.
>The A-wing violently shakes as its shields take the brunt of the attack.
>You reactively pull down on the trigger, missing the TIE fighters as they screech overhead.
>Deflector shields were holding at 60%.
>You can’t afford to take another hit like that.
>”Maybe try aiming next time!”
>Maybe fuck yourself.
>The two TIE fighters pull into a steep ascent as they prepare for another attack run.
>Calm down Anon, remember what Spitfire said.
>Feeling out with the Force, you try to sense out them out.
>The large asteroids make it difficult, but the rapid movements they make as they weave through the field give them away.
>A sudden jolt from your joystick takes you by surprise as the controls are taken away from you to avoid the rock hurtling your way.
>You flinch as Spitfire yells in your ear, “Pick up your visual scanning Red Two! I said use more than your eyes, not ignore them completely!”
 
>Engaging the manual override on your targeting computer, you focus in again on the enemy fighters behind you.
>Swinging your joystick hard to the left, you whip the throttle back as your A-wing shudders at the sudden drop in velocity.
>The thrust vectors on your engines pull to the left, violently spinning your ship around as you struggle to maintain control.
>The TIE fighters are only a few klicks away as they let loose another barrage of laser fire.
>Yanking the stick to right, you manage to level out, jamming the throttle forward and engaging the afterburners as your ship soars forward to meet them.
>They’re almost on top of you.
>You pull down on the trigger, the computer making a high pitched beep as you let loose a pair of missiles, the recoil rocking you backwards.
>Banking hard to the left, you watch as the first missile detonates in front of your target, knocking out its shields.
>The TIE goes into a spin as the second missile homes in and destroys it in a fiery explosion.
>“Good shooting!”
>”Stay sharp, you’re not out of the woods yet!”
>The other fighter roars past you as it turns and pulls up.
>Man you hated that sound.
 
>You bank around and chase after it, breathing hard as your g-suit constricts around your body.
>Pushing hard on the throttle, it takes every ounce of power your A-wing has just to keep up with it.
>A steady set of beeps ring in your ear as you fight to get a weapons lock.
>The TIE accelerates through a pair of asteroids about to collide; you start to peel off.
>”Don’t even think about. Keep it tight, stay on him!”
>You scrape a fin as you barely manage to squeeze through in time.
>”Good shit!”
“I’ve got a lock, I’ve got a lock!”
>The computer beeps more rapidly, finally emitting a solid tone as your target reticle lights up.
>Letting off a hail of red laser fire, the TIE takes some evasive maneuvers as its shields light up at the impact of your blasts before ducking behind an asteroid.
>You push the throttle as you give chase.
>He’s on the run now, shouldn’t be much-
>”Warning: Engine 1 overheating: Shutdown imminent.”
>You attempt to override the fail-safes as your right engine coughs and sputters to stay running.
>“Red Leader, um, this is part of the test right?”
>It seems like an eternity as you wait for Spitfire to respond.
>”That’s a uh… that’s a negative, Two. Deal with it; it’s not over ‘til I say it is!”
>If you couldn’t get it back online, you’d be a sitting duck against that Defender.
>Dropping your speed, you divert some of the power to your still working engine.
>You feel the TIE fighter shift direction from behind its cover, apparently detecting your malfunction.
>”Wrap it up, you’re losing it!”
>Alright, time to do something stupid.
 
”Deflectors, double front.”
>You punch the throttle and hit the afterburner.
>”Anon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
 “I’ve got it under control, Red Leader.”
>You’re right engine makes an ear-splitting whine as a set of explosions go off from inside the fuselage, finally shutting down as it gives into the pressure.
>”Uh-huh.”
>That small boost of acceleration was all you needed.
>Just needed to close the gap before that TIE flew out of cover.
>”If you’re thinking of pulling an Arvel…”
>That’s actually not a bad idea.
“No, no it’s nothing like that, but you might wanna hold onto something.”
>You peel your fighter up as you match the TIE’S ascent.
>Your speed continuing to drop despite pushing on the throttle.
>Come on, stay with it.
>Now!
>Time feels like it moves in slow motion as the Defender shrieks from below.
>If you reached out you could almost touch it.
“Missiles away!”
>”Wha-“
>A blinding white flash engulfs your field of vision followed by a deafening explosion.
>Your shoulder harness snaps as you’re thrown out of your seat.
>The intense heat from the blast washes over the canopy as your shields fail, with debris impacting your hull as you speed through what used to be the TIE fighter.
 
>Your ears are ringing and you feel like you’re about to throw up.
>”Red Two, you with me Red Two? Anon!”
>Spitfire’s voice echoes through your ears.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
>”Good my ass, I don’t know how you’re still conscious after that bump you took.”
>”Just relax, I’ve got the controls, we should be able to make it back.”
>You lean back, watching as the asteroid field dissipates into millions of pixels before disappearing.
>”What’d you think? Pretty sweet huh? State of the art training system left over from the Empire, with a few updates of course.”
>You take your helmet off and put a hand to your head.
“Yeah, it was great…”
>”By the way, if you ever do something that reckless again with me in the cockpit…”
“I know, sorry Master. I had to do something.”
>”Well do something less stupid next time.”
>”That said, it WAS pretty sick.”
>”Heads up, we’re pulling into the hangar.”
>Spitfire lands the A-wing, dipping as the landing gear makes contact with the ground, its single working engine dropping to a low hum.
>You groan as you shove the canopy open and ease yourself down to the floor, you needed a bacta injection stat.
 
>“Wooo, Anon!”
>”Get some!”
>”Fuck yeah, Anon!”
>You look up to see your classmates whistling and cheering you on.
>”OhmigoshohmigoshohmigoshohmigoshOHMYGOSH!”
>Rainbow tackles you into a hug, nearly knocking you over. Applejack trails behind her.
>She pulls back as she holds onto your shoulders.
>”That was so… AWESOME!”
>She scrunches her face and makes exaggerated movements with her arms.
>”You were all like whoosh! Pew pew pew! And that sonic boom! I know you didn’t hear it, but we heard it and everyone was like woooaahh, and that part at the end where we all thought you died, but I knew you didn’t die all along, and everyone was like nah they’re totally dead, but I was like-“
>Applejack cups her hand over Rainbows mouth.
>”If you’re finished doin’ your Pinkie impression, I think Anon here could use some rest.”
>She looks back at you with a warm smile, “That was some fancy flyin’ out there, glad to see you’re in one piece, we were all real worried there for a sec.”
>She looks at Rainbow, “Weren’t we?”
>”Mmhmm”, Rainbow nods as Applejack lifts off her hand.
>Spitfire climbs out of the fighter and jumps onto the deck, “Hey give him some room, he needs to get to a medical bay asap.”
>Applejack raises her hand, “I’ll take him Master Spitfire, poor guy looks more beat up than a sack of bantha fodder.”
>”I’ll go too for uh, moral support!” Rainbow quips in.
>Spitfire waves you off, “Sure, sure, that’s fine, just go. As for the rest of you, the trainer’s out of commission for now, and the High Council, in their infinite wisdom, only purchased this single one. I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow while we get this fixed.”
>“Flight, atten-tion!”
>The sound of boot heels snapping together echoes throughout the hangar.
>”Dismissed!”
 
>You get a few pats on the back as your fellow padawans walk past you.
>”Good work out there, Anon.”
>”Seriously man, great flying.”
>A flash of pain shoots down your back.
“Ah-shit! I mean, thanks guys.”
>Guess your shoulder was messed up too.
>Applejack has her arm around you, supporting you as you make your way to the medical wing.
>Your feet feel like a ton of bricks, and the pounding in your head keeps getting worse by the second.
>As the sound of Spitfire’s voice disappears, Applejack unzips the front of her flight suit, her blonde hair falling to her shoulders as she undoes her bun.
>”Can’t stand these things.”
“Should probably get one that fits.”
>Applejack narrows her eyes at you, “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“What? No, I didn’t mean it like-“
>Rainbow runs to catch up, carrying her helmet under her arm and a black duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
>”Hey wait up!”
>Thank the Force.
>”I think I’ve got it Dash, you can head back to the dorms if ya want.”
>”He’s my friend too you know!”
>”Alright already sheesh, just keep it down.”
“It’s fine, really. Actually I think I can walk.”
>You let go of Applejack and stumble headfirst into the wall, she manages to catch you by the arm before you hit the floor.
>”That’s enough bravado out of you for one day sugarcube, come on, the medical droids will have you patched up in no time.”
 
>After a few minutes of walking in silence, Applejack speaks up.
>”Back there, when I said we were all worried about you, I meant it ya know.”
“Hey if I saw you come out of a starfighter looking like I did, I’d be concerned too.”
>”No it’s not like that, you see, when you’re A-wing well, exploded next to that TIE, all the cameras cut out. We didn’t know what happened to you until Master Spitfire radioed in.”
“What? Couldn’t anyone sense we were still alive?”
>”That’s the thing, yours and Master Spitfire’s Force signatures actually disappeared once the program started. Just where were you guys?”
“Uhhh, good question. Think she said something about some weird Empire technology.”
>”Uggghh, man you guys are so boring.”
>Dash finally chirps up from behind.
>”Well no one asked ya to come.”
>”You’re right! I wanted to, becaaauuse…”
>She reaches into her bag and pulls out two bottles, whatever liquid was inside was pitch black.
>”Check it out! Mandalorian Ale. I managed to smuggle some in this morning.”
>She nudges you in the side.
>”It’s the good stuff too!”
>The dark fluid appears to stick to the inside of the glass as she waves it in your face.
>Applejack stops in her tracks, nearly throwing you to the floor.
>”Are you kidding me Dash? Put that away, what are you gonna do if you get caught. Again.”
>”Would you loosen up for once? I was going to save it for once we all finished the piloting exam, but I thought Anon’s performance up there deserved a reward.”
 
>”Honestly, I don’t even know why I bother to invite you anymore!”
>Applejack remains silent.
>”Anyways Anon, we’ll be getting together around eight. I think Rarity’s finally back from her research project on Adegan crystals too.”  
”Will she know you have booze?”
>”Uh, it’ll be a surprise. You gonna be there or not?”
“Yeah why not, it’ll be nice to catch up. Guess everyone else is still on Tython?”
>”Yeah, Pinkie, Flutters, and Twilight are supposed to be meeting some ambassador, think Grand Master Celestia said something about working on their people skills.”
“Pinkie too, huh?”
>”You know how she is, sometimes she’s just a little too… forward.”
>”Anyways, I’ll see ya then!” she turns to leave. “Oh, and Anon.”
>She looks back towards you, sheepishly scratching the back of her head.
>”I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”
>You and Applejack enter the medical bay, going from the dark gray hallways of the hangar, you adjust your eyes to the pure white rooms of the hospital.
>A skeletal looking droid turns to greet you, his waist attached to a gurney.
>”Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”
>Applejack speaks for you, “Anon here knocked his head up real good, could be some broken ribs too.”
>”Please lay down so I can assess your injuries.”
>You strain to hop on the bed, closing your eyes as you lay your head back.
>The droid glides around the gurney with lightning speed, checking your vitals with quick precision.
 
>Applejack leans against the wall and looks down at the floor, apparently deep in thought.
“You know, I really wish you and Dash would stop fighting all the time. You guys were inseparable until we started flight training.”
>”I’m just trying to look out for her. She’s been at the Temple almost her whole life and it’s like she hasn’t learned a thing!”
>”Besides she’s the one that’s been pushing my buttons this whole time.”
>She stands up and starts to pace around the room, “I’ve worked my butt off to become a good pilot and what does she do? Absolutely nothing! Just hops in the simulator one day and flies the thing like she was born in it! And then she has the nerve to gloat about it in my face!”
>The droid cuts you off as you’re about to respond.
>”Assessment complete. Concussion, two broken ribs, fractured scapula, fractured clavicle, internal hemorrhaging in left thigh. Administering bacta treatment.
>That’s a lot, guess that’s what happens when your seatbelt doesn’t work.
>You feel several needles enter your body where you were injured, the sharp pain being immediately soothed by the cool liquid.
>Regaining your thoughts, you try to find the right words to say.
“If the masters heard you they’d probably say you were jealous. You know where that kind of thinking that leads to. Dash still cares about you AJ, she just has her own, unique, way of doing it.”
>Applejack sighs and looks back at the floor.
>”Maybe you’re right. I know she ain’t everything she puts on. When we thought you crashed I don’t think I’d ever seen her so close to tears.”
“…really?”
>She nods her head, “Anyways I think I’d better get goin’. I’ll see you at eight then?”
“Oh, you’re going?”
>”Yeah, think I should probably talk things over with Rainbow.”
 
>Just as she’s about to leave, the door shoots open.
>”Grand Master Celestia!”
“Grand Master Celestia!”
>Applejack bows, you start to climb out of the bed to do the same.
>”Please children, it’s quite alright. Especially you Anon, stay in bed and relax, I understand you’ve had quite a day.”
>Celestia stood before you, her mere presence radiating her massive strength with the Force.
>Her black robes covered a brown tunic, both of which drastically contrasted with her white skin.
>As far as she, or anyone else knew, she was the only one of her species.
>While appearing human at first glance, the feathered wings on her back betrayed her alien origins.
>”Padawan Applejack, would you please excuse us?”
>”Of course Master, I was just leavin’.”
>She bows again and exits, Celestia watches her leave before turning to you.
>”How are you? I hope your injuries weren’t too severe.”
“Nothing the droids can’t fix Master.”
>She chuckles slightly, “Yes, I should hope so.”
>She pulls up a chair and sits down, crossing her legs and brushing her flowing, prismatic hair behind her.
>”The reason I’m here is to talk about you, Padawan. More specifically, your future.”
>Her voice takes a more serious tone.
>”Master Spitfire has recommended me to give you immediate induction into the Starfighter Corps following your Trials.”
>Your stomach drops and your mind races as you try to process what she just told you.
“Induction… Starfighter Corps?”
>Celestia nods, “It seems you made a significant impression on her. For someone to do what you did their first time in a starfighter is indeed incredible.”
>Her tone doesn’t change.
“Is there something wrong Master?”
>”While I agree with her evaluation of your performance, I’m hesitant to agree to give you such a demanding role within the Order.”
>”What you did at the end was unnecessarily reckless, and you endangered the lives of both yourself, and Master Spitfire.”
>You open your mouth to respond.
>”And yes, I am aware of what Master Spitfire thought of it. After discussing it further, she agreed that the situation could’ve been resolved without risking your lives.”
“I know Master… that was just the first thing that came to mind.”
>”And that is what troubles me.”
>She stands up and walks around the room.
>”You’ve been an excellent student Anonymous, you’ve displayed a great mastery of the Force, and your piloting skills are among the best we’ve seen at the Academy in decades.”
>She stops and turns toward you.
“But you’re impulsive. We’ve done all we can to teach you about controlling your emotions. You’re nearing the point where it will be too late to help you.”
>You look down, considering her words.
>Feeling a hand on your cheek, Celestia raises your head, your eyes meeting hers.
>”But you are not there yet.”
>”I will reserve my judgment until you’ve finished the Trials. I have nothing but the utmost faith in you that you will not disappoint me or the Order.”
>She sits down, “Or yourself.”
 
>A few moments pass before she speaks again.
>”Do you have any questions for me?”
>A million thoughts go through your head before you settle on what to ask her.
>”Did Master Spitfire not mention Rainbow Dash? It’s no secret that she’s the best pilot at the Academy. The Starfighter Corps is everything to her! Surely she’d be a better candidate than me?”
>Celestia turns her head away, “Yes, Padawan Rainbow Dash.”
>She pauses as if considering something.
>”Padawan Rainbow Dash will not be allowed to continue her training. She’s being reassigned to the Service Corps.”
“What!?”
>You jump out of bed, ignoring the pain, nearly falling over as you grab onto the bed for balance.
>”Calm down Anonymo-“
“The Service Corps? She’ll be crushed! Can’t she serve in the regular Navy? What about a non-combat role? This can’t-“
>”Anonymous!”
>You pause, realizing you’re raising your voice.
>Celestia puts a hand to her head.
>”That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you need to control yourself.”
>”Regarding Rainbow Dash, I don’t tell you this news lightly. It’s usually something only known to the other Masters. A great pilot she may be, putting someone with her power over the Force behind a starfighter would only serve to endanger herself.”
>”The Service Corps isn’t the end of the line for her, if she shows that she’s able to be less self-destructive then her training may continue. I impart this knowledge onto you so that you may be able to guide her on the right path before the reassignment is made.”
 
>You think over her words carefully.
>Ever since you met Rainbow Dash, the Starfighter Corps was all she talked about.
>When you were both younglings, you remember seeing her play with toy spaceships, recreating famous space battles in her head.
>It was also how you both met, accidentally stepping on her favorite X-wing and breaking it, causing her to break out in tears.
>You got her a new one the next day.
”I… I will. Thank you Master.”
>Celestia stands up again, “Is there anything else?”
>Your thoughts turn again to your own dilemma.
“Master, what if I feel like the Starfighter Corps isn’t what I want? I know we practice all these combat sims, but I know the reality of what it’s like out there. I don’t know if escorting freighters for the rest of my life is what I had in mind for my future.”
>”Yes, the life of our starfighter pilots is certainly less active than it was during the war. However, it remains an important duty none-the-less.”
>”We also never know when the next threat to the Republic may arise.”
“Threat? The Sith are destroyed aren’t they? A couple pirates here and there are hardly what I’d call a threat.”
>Celestia walks towards the door and pauses before opening it, “We must always remain vigilant, Padawan.”
>“There are darker things than Sith in the galaxy.”
 
>You are Lightning Dust.
>Your X-wing drops out of hyperspace, the blue miasma fades away as the stars streak into points of light.
>Three gravitational distortions behind you are picked up by your sensors.  The dark silhouettes of a Missile Boat and a pair of TIE Interceptors silently glide into view against the field of stars surrounding you.
>Two dead suns orbit each other in the distance, providing just enough light to make out the solid black paint on your fighters.
“Report in.”
>”Spectre one, standing by.”
>”Spectre two, standing by.”
>”Spectre three, standing by.”
“Command, Spectre is ready op, approaching nav point Able. The station’s coming into view now.”
>”Roger Spectre lead, let us know as soon as you’ve completed your scan. Be ready to get the hell out of there if you need to, the last transmissions we received didn’t sound too encouraging.”
 “Copy. You hear that Spectre? Close up and form on me. Double and triple check those return coordinates too, hyperspace jumping can get a little squirrely around here.”
>You lean back and glance over your hastily scrawled notes.
>Can’t believe they interrupted your sabacc game for this.
>The 10th Fighter Wing was a whole thousand light years closer to the distress beacon too.
>Apparently we were asked for by name, you can’t say you weren’t at least a little flattered.
>And when you found out where you jumping to, well, it started to make sense.
>Still, a few more turns and Minuette and Soarin would’ve walked away with their credits in your pockets.
>You shake the distracting thoughts from your head. It’s the first assignment we’ve had in a while.
>And Wraith Squadron has a reputation to keep.
 
>Fleetfoot pulls up next to you in her Interceptor and radios in.
>“Honestly, whose bright idea was it to build a station here. Blasted thing is on the verge of being torn apart every day.”
”Scientists. You know how they are. Personally, I’m fine with keeping as much distance between myself and this hellhole as possible.”
>”I’m with you there.”
>“So what do you think it is? Raiders?”
“No reason for them to come all the way out here, much less loot some no-name research station. I bet HQ is just overreacting, probably just a broken comm-relay.”
>”Then why would they send us? If we’re the only ones that can navigate the Maw in the entire blasted Navy, then the Republic’s in a sorry state indeed.”
“Would you be surprised if we were?”
>She sighs, “No, and that’s the sad part.”
>Command was likely just playing it safe, no point in deploying a rescue party if they ended up jumping straight into a black hole.
>But there’s playing it safe, and sending… us.
>You had your personal snubfighter, beefed up with, well, you name it.
>Better weapons, sublight engines, electronics.
>You could almost go toe-to-toe with a B-wing in terms of raw firepower.
>A couple squints, decked out with shields, hyperdrives, and warhead launchers.
>Miracles of mass production that they were, they could still stand a few improvements.
>And a Missile Boat, don’t even want to get started on that.
>By the time you finished talking about it, you’d need a cigarette and a cold shower.
>That baby could take out an entire squadron of TIE fighters and still have enough payload left over to down a light cruiser.
>Anyone messing with us would end up having a very, very bad day.
>Yet here we are.
>On rescue duty.
>The things you’d do to be fighting Imps again.
 
>The space station looms closer. A ring of habitat modules surrounds a spherical gravity well, counteracting the intense forces it encounters in its day-to-day work.
>It rotates slowly, occasionally glinting as it catches a ray of light.
“Sinkhole Station, this is Commander Lightning Dust of the New Republic, do you require assistance?”
>Your question is met with a barrage of static.
>Big surprise there.
>Trying again on several frequencies, you receive the same response.
>You take their silence as a yes.
“Let’s swing by their observation deck, maybe get their attention. One and Two, start your sweep. Three, on me.”
>Minuette and Fleetfoot peel off and take their Interceptors around the station, while Soarin pulls alongside you.
>You drop speed and float past the command center.
>Looks like it’s lights out.
>You bring your ship around to a halt in front of a window and switch on your spotlight.
>Furniture and lab equipment drift through a field of dust.
>Artificial gravity’s gone too.
>Minuette comes in, “Spectre lead, scan’s complete. I’m getting… something, but there’s too much interference. I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
“The life sign or the interference?”
> “Uh, both.”
“Is their life support online?”
>”Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
>“Looks like it’s still working in a few localized pockets, whoever’s in there still has a chance. No signs of any external damage either. Only thing that could’ve happened is a computer malfunction or-”
“It was shut off manually.”
 
“Alright, let me sort this out.”
“Command, Spectre lead. The station’s pretty much dead, but we’re picking up what we think could be a survivor. Permission to investigate further?”
>”Negative, just get those people out, and that’s it. Don’t touch anything, we’re sending over a specialist … a few… what… you read…”
>You mess around with the radio frequency.
“What? Oh uh, sorry Command, you’re breaking up. We’ll get back to you when we’re done.”
>Click.
>Fleetfoot chimes in, “Haha, never change Dust.”
>You’d probably get a pay reduction for that.
>Sure, this wasn’t exactly comparable to an attack run on a super star destroyer.
>But this is still the most interesting thing that’s happened in years.
>No way were you passing this up.
>It’s what they get for sending us in the first place. You just see it as them getting their money’s worth.
“Helmets on people. Prepare to dock. Let’s figure out what the hell’s going on down there.”
>Flying in one at a time, you each set your fighters down in a set of magnetic docking clamps.
>The hangar’s a tight fit, but you make it work.
>A single Lambda-class shuttle sits off to the right.
>Guess the Senate really stepped up the ‘obscure scientific research’ budget.
>You make sure your helmet is securely fastened to your suit and depressurize the cockpit.
>Oxygen tank pressure is stable, maneuvering backpack appears to be working.
>You open the canopy and grab your blaster rifle.
>A belt of thermal detonators grabs your attention at the bottom of the stowage compartment.
>How long had that been there?
>Yeah, why not. You throw it around your shoulder and float out to meet your team.
“Keep it warm T8.”
>Your astromech gives a cheery beep.
 
>Be Minuette.
>You wish you were back playing sabacc.
>A few more turns and you could’ve taken the pot.
>Shifting your pistol around to make room for some medical supplies on your hip, you open the hatch on your Interceptor and float out.
>It’s cold, this place is creepy, and you want to go home.
>Maybe you should’ve retired when you had the chance.
>Could’ve had a nice comfy career as a doctor, or a veterinarian, maybe a dent-
>”Die, Rebel scum!”
“Aahh!”
>Fleetfoot hears you scream and kicks herself out of her cockpit.
>”What? What’s wrong- Oh. Blast it Soarin, how many times have we told you to throw that thing away!”
>He pops up behind you wearing a TIE pilot helmet.
>”Hey, this is authentic Imperial memorabilia! Do you have any idea how long it took to get it working again?”
“No, and we don’t care. Why you insist on collecting that stuff is beyond me.”
>Lightning Dust flies over her X-wing, the thrusters on her backpack throw a white mist behind her.
>”Can it you guys.”
>She looks over her crew.
>One of these things is not like the other.
>“Soarin, I fucking hate you.”
>He shrugs and throws his rifle over his shoulder.
>”Minuette, do you still have a lock on that life signal?”
“Last time I checked it was still there, let me make sure.”
>You pull out a scanning device and input the code to connect it to your ship’s computer.
>The floor plan of the station appears over a grid. Twelve segments surrounding a large circle.
>A faint light pulses in the laboratory section.
“Still there, looks like it’s in the science module.”
>Fleetfoot steps forward, “There’s two levels though. Think we should split up?”
>Lightning glares, “Were you always this stupid?”
>She pouts and rolls her eyes.
“She has a point though. We’ll just have to do this one floor at a time. Unfortunately the signal’s too weak to determine which level it’s on.”
“We’ll also have to fix the life support somehow. If we just bust into a section where it’s still online, whoever’s alive in there will be turned inside out.”
>Lightning primes her rifle and flicks on the flashlight on her helmet, “Lovely. Alright then, let’s go weapons hot. Stay frosty.”
 
>You each drift up onto the upper deck.
>The station makes metallic creaks and moans as you float through the vacant hallways.
>Shafts of light protrude through the occasional open door, illuminating cascades of dust and debris.
>You stare intently at your radar. A soft, consistent ping interrupts the silence.
>Room after room, and hallway after hallway pass you by.
>This place is a lot bigger than it seemed from the outside.
>”Got a bad feeling about this.”
 “Shut up Soarin.”
>Finally, you reach the command center.
“Should be able to activate it from here. Just gotta get it open somehow.”
>Fleetfoot floats past you, “My time to shine!”
>She readjusts her rifle and opens up her kit.
>Connecting a bundle of wires to the keypad, she starts to vigorously type away at her laptop.
>Some seconds later, the red light on the keypad turns to green.
>”Piece of cake!”
>Lightning moves to open the door, “Bet it’s a little easier without being shot at, huh?”
>”Don’t remind me…”
>It shoots open with a quiet thump.
>Blood paints the entire room floor to ceiling. Five mangled bodies drift aimlessly among an assortment of gore and viscera.
>Their chests appear to have been forced open, and what’s left of their faces clearly show that their eyes have been ripped out.
>Fleetfoot retches into her helmet, and you can see Soarin visibly struggling not to look away.
>You’ve seen some shit in your days as a combat medic.
>But this is just indescribable.
>Lightning tries to retain some stoicism, “Um, Minuette. Thoughts?”
>You look over the scene again.
“Well, in my expert medical opinion, I’d say there’s a rampaging rancor loose somewhere on the station, and we should immediately evacuate and nuke it from orbit.”
>She doesn’t look amused.
“Or I could take a closer look.”
>”Good plan. Fleetfoot, get the power back on. Soarin, stay alert and keep track of our survivor. Hopefully he or she doesn’t go anywhere.”
>Fleetfoot seems to have composed herself, “Urgh, roger that.”
>You pass off the radar to Soarin and grab one of the bodies to examine, while Fleetfoot starts to hook up her laptop.
>Looks like a human male, mid-thirties. Tattered pieces of what you assume used to be a lab coat stick to his skin.
>His chest cavity is completely hollowed out, ribs stick out haphazardly from where they used to be attached at the sternum.
>Explosive decompression is a nasty way to go, but this…
>You flip him over on his back and cut away his clothing.
>Stab wounds?
>Fleetfoot sounds like she’s having success slicing into the computer, “Aaaand let there be light!”
>Everyone looks around waiting for something to happen.
>”Or not. Shit, yep, line’s been cut at the source, and I’m not crawling into the reactor to fix it either.”
“Commander, you might want to take a look at this.”
>Lightning glides over to meet you. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Yep.”
>”I’m starting to wish it was a rancor now.”
>Fleetfoot suddenly calls out, her voice is nervous and trembling, “Guys, I uh… I think I figured out what happened here.”
 
>”I found the security footage of the command deck just before they sent their last communications. And well, see for yourselves.”
>She hits play. It only goes a few seconds before Soarin pushes Fleetfoot aside to close it.
>“Fucking shit, turn it off!”
>A few moments pass as you all process what you just saw.
>Lightning steadies herself against a railing and stares at the grisly scene surrounding her, “They did this to each other…”
>Fleetfoot moves back in front of her computer, “There’s more.”
>”Life support was manually shut down, and I think I know why.”
>She cycles through the security camera feeds until it settles on the dormitory module.
>Four corpses float through the room among their beds and personal items.
“At least they died a little more peacefully.”
>”As peacefully as suffocating to death is anyways.” Soarin remarks.
>The station suddenly groans with the sound of bending and crushing metal.
>Everyone freezes in waiting anticipation for it to end.
“Please tell me we’re not heading into a black hole.”
>Fleetfoot starts typing, “We’re not, but you’re close. It’s the gravity well. We’ll be fine for now, it’s just getting a little unstable.”
>”In the meantime I can get life support restored. Recommend you keep your helmets on though, the air might be a little thin.”
>Vents above you whir to life, you can feel a slight breeze pushing against your flight suit.
>”Brace yourselves, I’ve got artificial gravity online in three, two…”
>The sense of weightlessness disappears as your feet collide with the floor. The dead crewmembers make a sickening sound as they drop from the air.
“Yeesh, should probably have set them on the ground first.”
>Lightning moves to the exit, “Ya think? Grab your shit, let’s keep moving.”
>You gather your things and take one last look at the command deck before shutting the door.
>Whoever that ‘specialist’ is had better get here quick.
 
>You trudge again through the dim hallways.
>A somber cloud hangs in the atmosphere; everyone looks to be alone in their own thoughts.
>Resting one hand on your pistol, you glimpse at the radar.
>Still there, same spot as when you picked it up too.
>It’s not like they’re trapped, why haven’t they moved?
“Stop here, we can take a shortcut to the laboratory through the dorms.”
>Soarin turns around, “A shortcut? I thought it was just a big circle.”
“There’s interconnecting access tunnels connecting each of the modules together. And I don’t know about you but I’d like to finish up here as soon as possible.”
>The team nods in agreement, and you open the door to the living quarters.
>Your headlamps dance light around the walls as you survey the room.
>Four bodies lie strewn on the ground. They’ve died recently; you’d have thought they were sleeping if you didn’t know otherwise.
>You carefully step over them. As you walk by you notice one of them gripping on to something.
>It’s a photo.
>Kneeling down, you tug it out of his hand.
>Looks like his family, a wife and daughter.
>You place it in his coat pocket.
>Fleetfoot doesn’t sound like she’s having much luck with the access door, “Blast it, the wiring’s been cut. Someone’s keen on making this difficult for us.”
>As she turns around a laptop catches her eye. It lays open next to a desk covered head to toe in awards and certificates.
>”Dr. Moondancer?”
>Your heart nearly stops.
“No way, did you just say Moondancer?”
>”That’s what it says on her degrees. All twenty something of them.”
“I… I knew her. We went to medical school together.”
>”No shit?” Lightning picks up the laptop and sets it right-side up. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her.”
“We weren’t exactly friends, more like acquaintances. We might’ve been lab partners once, it’s been too long.”
 
>Fleetfoot moves to inspect the computer, aside from a small crack on the screen it seems to be in working order. “Don’t think she’ll mind if we take a peek.”
>The computer boots up to a lockout screen. She inserts a device into one of the pinouts, after a few seconds the password is filled in automatically.
>A scrawny red-haired human appears on the monitor. She has the sleeves rolled up on her white lab coat, covering a worn-out grey turtleneck.
>Her straight bangs hang slightly above a pair of thick glasses.
“That’s her all right.”
>”Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Moondancer, and this marks day one of our very exciting research here at Sinkhole Station.”
>”You were in school together? She looks so young.” Soarin comments.
>You scowl at him.
>”I mean, for her age.”
>He’ll pay later.
“No, she’s a good bit younger than me. She must’ve been about fifteen when she finished undergrad.”
>Lightning whistles to herself as the video continues to play.
>”The gravity well projector we salvaged from an old Interdictor-class Star Destroyer still needs a few modifications before it’s up and running. While we would’ve liked to get more than one, and we are of course infinitely grateful to the Jedi Council for funding this mission, the budget simply would’ve been stretched too thin.”
“The Jedi… I thought there were only a handful of them on Yavin Four?”
>Fleetfoot looks incredulous, “Where have you been the last twenty years?”
“The Outer Rim.”
>”Well, they’ve been set up on Coruscant for decades now. There’re easily a couple hundred of them at least. The better question is why were they funding this place?”
 
>The video keeps playing, “The focus of our experiments will be to study the enigmas that are black holes, and more specifically inquire into the nature of the formation of Anomaly 27, commonly known as The Maw. The mysteries of what occurs beyond the event horizon have evaded scientists for millennia, and quite frankly it’s a crime that it has gone unsolved for so long.”
>Lightning groans, “Ugh, the way she talks is giving me a headache.”
“That degree from the school of hard knocks not helping?”
>”I am your commander, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
>Moondancer leans her hands on the table in front of her, “The team’s got a lot of work ahead of them these next couple weeks, but I’m confident we’ll pull through. I’ll be updating this video journal monthly, and of course I can always be reached on HoloNet. Until then, take care!” She gives a beaming smile as she reaches toward the camera and shuts it off.
“A lot more personable than I remember, I wonder who she’s talking to.”
>Fleetfoot pulls up her HoloNet transmissions, “All of them were sent to Tython over an encrypted channel. The last one sent was a couple days ago.”
>”It’s the only one labeled differently too. All the others are Research Log blah blah something. She titled it ‘BeyondtheVeil’. Little dramatic.”
>Moondancer’s hand briefly obscures the camera. She crosses her arms as the lens focuses in on her.
>Noticeable bags droop under eyes, and her hair appears disheveled and unkempt.
>”We’re close. We are so close. The planet we discovered in the center of The Maw has so far remained out of reach, but not for long. Our initial attempts to break through nearly shook the station apart. The fusion reactors we added to the gravity well immensely increased the power of the interdiction field, but it still wasn’t enough.”
 
>She starts to pace, “I’ve spent the last weeks working on a program that will force the production of an anti-graviton matrix. By combining the theories spearheaded by Dr. Velvet and-“
>Lightning fast-forwards it, “Right, I think we get it.”
>”-should be able to cross through unharmed. We start making preparations tomorrow. I know your supervisor- er, master, wanted us to call it off, but… I just feel like this is something I have to do. We all do.” She looks down and bites her lip. “I’ve spent a lot of time on the observation deck lately, gazing at those empty pits to oblivion. It’s hard to explain but it’s like… it’s like it’s calling to me. If something happens just… thanks for everything Twilight. You’ve been a true friend. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help.” The camera shuts off.
>Fleetfoot leans against the desk, “So ten scientists, seven men and three women. We’ve got two females here that look nothing like her, which means-“
>The beeps on your radar start to pulse more rapidly, and you yank it out of your pocket.
“Um, Lightning, the life sign, she’s moving.”
 
>Be Lightning Dust.
”Shit, double time it then. Where’s she going?”
>Your team dashes out of the room. Minuette fumbles with her scanner as she struggles to answer.
>”She’s… moving away from us. I think. It keeps disappearing. Seriously, what’s up with this interference?”
>Bounding down the hall, you start to close in on the lab.
“In here, Fleetfoot get on it!”
>”Way ahead of ya!”
>She quickly plugs in to the access panel and works away on her laptop.
>”Got it!”
>You raise your rifle as the door unlocks, moving through the tables and lab equipment as your team follows behind you.
>Moondancer was now a suspect. With the entire crew dead, you weren’t taking any chances.
>Soarin trails behind and makes a quick turn. “Right corner clear!”
>You scan the remaining corners as you reach the next door.
“Room’s clear! Keep moving!”
>Stacking on the next opening, you wait for your squad to get behind you.
“Well, whenever you feel like moving!”
>Your team has stopped dead in their tracks, their weapons hang limp at their sides.
>Minuette’s the first to speak up, “Dust… look…”
>Your flashlight shines around the laboratory, revealing what’s left your team slack-jawed.
>Drawings cover the ceiling with what you can only make out as chaotic scribbles.
>You snatch one down. The best you can make out are two figures.
>One of them appears to resemble Moondancer, and the other…
>It’s much taller than her, completely filled in black. Amorphous tentacles radiate around a vague humanoid shape.
“Right, very creepy.”
 
>Minuette hits her scanner, “It’s back! She has to be in the next room.”
>Trying the access panel, it slides open without a hitch.
“Finally, one that works.”
>You shove your rifle into your shoulder and try to find your way through the clutter of trash that lies on the floor.
>The only thing you can hear is your breathing.
>You could hear a pin drop if you wanted to.
>Something catches your attention as you signal for your team to halt.
>Is that… singing?
 
>”…Hush now, quiet now, time to lay your sleepy head…”
>”…Hush now, quiet now, it’s time that Mother’s fed…”
 
“Over here, it’s coming from the closet!”
>Your team circles around the entrance, weapons at the ready.
>You give them one last look over before you hit the access panel.
>It’s Moondancer.
>She’s huddled in the corner in the fetal position covering her face.
>Her clothes are ragged and falling apart, her once white lab coat is now in tatters and covered in blood.
>You stare at her for a few moments, even you’re taken aback at what you see.
“…Dr. Moondancer?”
>She slowly looks up at you, her eyes are wide and afraid. “…She’s… here…”
>The station violently shakes; you struggle to keep your footing.
>You can feel the air around you begin to chill through your suit.
>The thermometer on your arm is rapidly diving below zero.
>Your breathing quickens as you aim down your rifle again.
>A sense of dread fills your body.
>This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.
>The room itself starts to get darker, and you turn your flashlight all the way up to no avail.
>Minuette screams at you, “Dust, I’ve got two unknown capital-class ships that just dropped out of hyperspace! We need to leave! Now!”
“Soarin, grab Moondancer! The rest of you on me, we’re getting the hell out of here!”
>Soarin lifts her over shoulder, Moondancer seems completely catatonic.
 
>You sprint down the halls. This feeling of despair continues to wash over you, each step feels like you’re stepping through mud.
>Almost there, just keep moving.
>Just need to keep moving.
>Your breathing is erratic, something is definitely slowing you down.
>Fleetfoot suddenly slows her pace, “Commander, the stars… they’re going out.”
>You glance out the nearby window.
>One by one the, the dots of light are swallowed by an encroaching shadow.
>This wasn’t a black hole, you’ve never seen anything like this.
>Before you can speak, a blanket of darkness washes through the hall.
>The sounds of your footsteps are immediately muffled.
>Your breathing and the condensation on your helmet are the only thing your senses can pick up.
>Looking down, you can’t even see your feet.
“Fleetfoot? Soarin? Everyone still here?”
>Soarin comes through your comms, “Still alive, can’t see shit though.”
“Grab a shoulder, we’re almost-“
>You stop in your tracks, a paralyzing sensation runs down your spine.
>The still gloom of the hall is interrupted by a nearly blinding red light, quickly followed by the noise of erupting energy.
>A lightsaber.
 
>Immobilizing fear holds a tight grip around your legs.
>Just turn around Lightning.
>That’s all you need to do.
>Just turn around and run.
>Your eyes follow the bright red stream of plasma that’s burrowed into the bulkhead.
>The hilt is an intricate piecing of metal, nearly half the length of the blade itself.
>Elaborate black thorns extend in haphazard directions from each end of the handle.
>Your gaze moves upwards towards the stygian figure approaching you.
>It walks with a shambling gait, ethereal limbs extend from ragged, black cloak.
>The only part that seems solid about it is a pair of wings spread on its back.
>Its lightsaber drags a river of sparks behind it as it cuts into the wall.
>You feel weak, as if your strength is being sucked out of you.
>Forcing down the trigger on your rifle, a flurry of plasma bolts pass harmlessly through it.
“We need to go… we need to go!”
>Finally you manage to peel your eyes away from it.
>You team is equally entranced, it takes nearly shoving them to the ground to break their gaze.
>All except one.
“Fleetfoot, Fleetfoot! Come on!”
>Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide with terror.
>” No, you can’t make me! I can’t… I won’t… What’s happening to me?!”
>She lets out an ear-splitting scream.
>Minuette runs over to her, “What the… her vitals are failing!”
>Her skin starts to go pale as her breathing becomes uneven.
>You look back towards your foe.
>It raises its weapon, dragging up through the wall into the overhead.
>An adjacent room leads to a large view screen into space.
>A moment of clarity hits you.
 
“Hit the deck!”
>They duck to the floor without hesitation. Minuette pulls Fleetfoot down with her.
>You rip off the belt of thermal detonators, activating them all in one motion of your arm.
>Soarin reaches for his spare oxygen mask and places it over Moondancer’s face, “You are out of your mind.”
>Throwing it with all your remaining strength at the window, you dive at the floor.
>Excruciating seconds pass as the multiple beeping of the grenades grows faster and faster.
>A deafening boom lasts only milliseconds as it’s sucked into the vacuum of space.
>You feel yourself ripped off the ground and thrown forward into the debris of the space station.
>The last thing you see is a powerful swing of a lightsaber crashing into the spot you were just moments ago.
>You open your eyes as the stillness of space sets in. The sensation of spinning is leveled as the thrusters on your backpack steady you out.
>Fleetfoot.
>You need to help Fleetfoot.
>The only stars left in the sky are the binary pair in the distance.
>Myriad shards of glass bloom away from the hole you left in the station.
>You spot her and Minuette drifting several feet away and float towards them. She managed to hold onto her.
>Minuette looks at you with tears in eyes. A bacta needle sticks out of Fleetfoot’s chest.
>”I… I tried everything I could… nothing worked… why didn’t it work…”
“No, no, come on, stay with me!”
> Fleetfoot’s face is locked in a state of shock.
>You open your medkit and stab another injection of bacta into her.
“Don’t do this to me! You can’t!”
>You grab her in a tight embrace.
>Her feeble breathing fades into silence.
>A few moments pass. You remove her helmet, brushing aside her white hair as you close her eyes.
“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. It’s all my fault…I never…”
>You press her closer.
>Just a little longer.