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Chapter 2 - Behind the Mask

SHARDS OF DARKNESS

An SSFW tale

By Zekk Alvarion

Chapter One: Beginnings

With its needle pointed prow, the strike cruiser Storm lay poised against the black of interstellar space, the stars like pinpoints of light reflected from a field of Coruscant gems in the background. Scattered about her lay a group of merchant vessels, humbled by their massive escort. On the bridge of the cruiser, the radar operator rose and stretched, bored by his uneventful vigilance. “Permission to take five, Captain,” he said. “The hyper-space lane is still not clear, no contacts on screen and I need some coffee.” The Captain glanced at the tactical display and nodded his permission. “The usual for me as well, Radar.” As the radar operator turned and walked away, a small yellow indicator below his display began to blink and unidentified dots began to form a wedge at the edge of his screen. As he was leaving the bridge a klaxon sounded and he wheeled in alarm. The Captain started to rise, turning to stare at the tactical display. “Radar”, he shouted, “get me an ID, fast!” As the operator slid to a stop in front of his station, the color drained from his face. “Incoming, Sir! Heavy rockets and torpedoes inbound! Gods! Where did they come from? At least six capital ships, Sir. I don’t know how many fighters.” As the Storm rocked from the impact of this barrage, fire and sparks erupted from instruments all around the bridge. As he looked at his screen, the radar operator slumped in his chair. “Another full barrage, Captain. What do we do?” he implored, looking at the captain. The captain slowly stood, straightened his tunic, brushed dust and debris from his uniform and looking out the portal, said “We die.”

H

is face glowing in the light of the pale orange sun rising slowly over the city of Sarpedon, the young pilot took a deep breath of the cool morning air. A soft breeze blew against his face, stroking his hair gently. Around him, creatures of the morning began to stir. The call of birds could be heard, singing in the last of the morning mist. Peachy clouds were scattered over the blue skies, partially masking the sun’s rays. Mountains wearing coats of grass and wildflowers stretched high up into the air, tickled by the lapping of fresh water at their feet.

Sarpedon itself was a neighbor to the city of Theed, located on the planet Naboo. Off in the distance, just over the mountain rise, laid the capitol of Naboo, and the royal palace, where the queen and ruler of the planet’s surface dwelled. Sarpedon was a small city devoted mainly to the harbor of a military spaceport. The purpose of this military post here was to protect the local commerce and to keep the surrounding sector under control in case of attack. It was an Alliance station, so had been placed there to also maintain the newfound peace that had been attained. The river Layun flowed beside the city, where it wound through the grassy plain, eventually joining with the Ultania River. At the point where the two rivers merged, there lay a small island. There was little more than an observatory mounted upon the sandy shores to the untrained eye. But, in fact, the island housed long-ranged scanning equipment used for detecting space vessels and monitoring any astronomical objects in nearby systems. It was crucial that this installation remained intact, as the very eyes of the station were there. The facility was a fair distance from the main base, and had only a few guards at any given time watching over the area. This further disguised it as being nothing more than a common telescope.

In every direction, as far as the eye could see, Zekk Alvarion was surrounded by soft grassy hills. Herbivores roamed the area and grazed peacefully on the soft shrubs, while predators stalked the still waking prey. The base had just received a transport ship bearing a group of new recruits and fighter pilots. The transport had arrived just two days ago, and the pilots were only now beginning to settle in to begin their training and testing programs. Among them were some young but qualified pilots that had been transferred here by the Alliance high command. They would be replacing fallen pilots from the fleet during these troubled times.

Sarpedon was the basis of all operations for a moderately large fleet of Alliance warships and freighters. Although this Alliance fleet was stationed in Sarpedon, it also had a training station near the abandoned asteroid mining colony of Fayrah. This new group of fighter pilots had come from the Fayrah Academy. The time of judgment had come for the Fayrah graduates, when they had been run through the grueling tests issued to all fighter pilots in the Rebel Alliance. All had been tested to see what they had learned. Only select few had passed, while the others remained to take the course over again, or take the time to consider a new profession. The young pilot, Ensign Alvarion, was one of those few who had succeeded.

It was not quite time for the rest of his wing to get up, but Zekk preferred some solitude in the early hours of the day. Hmm, what time is combat practice today? he thought to himself. Zekk was one of the newest additions to the fleet’s premier fighter squadron, Sabre. Although he showed tremendous potential as a pilot, his seeming habit of “leaping before he looked” got him into trouble on a regular basis. He had recently passed the academy at Fayrah and become a fully fledged pilot, invested with the rank of ensign. This young fighter pilot had been looking forward to the day he would get to join a fighter squadron and ship out to Sarpedon, or another Alliance station. He had, however, gotten his first choice, Sarpedon, because he had graduated at the top of his class. Naboo had always appealed to him. The natural beauty and wildlife appealed to him most. Zekk had always felt most comfortable around wild creatures and forest, rather than the bustling city.

Zekk was an average height for a human male, with broad shoulders and stringy muscles. He had dark brown, well kept hair that swept back over his ears to the middle part of his neck. His long, narrow eyes were light brown and more reflective than usual for a human, almost as if he had feline ancestors. Zekk’s eyebrows were a shade darker than his hair. They were long and thing, taking a sharp turn down at the end. It made him look as though he always had a stern look. His nose was sharp and had a faint kink at the bridge as if it had been broken in the past. Zekk had a slight tan to his olive colored skin that never burned. He was a handsome man of twenty-three years old, nearing the peak of his flying career. Few of the current academy officers could match his talent in the cockpit. His commanding officers could only hope that eventually his administrative skills would begin to catch up to his combat skills.

Zekk was an orphan who came from the deep, dark, lower levels of Coruscant. All his life he had been a survivor, clinging to life best as he could. During his childhood he had faced the many perils of the lower levels, coming across dangerous creatures beyond count. Most of them were not known even to the world of science.

His lucky break came the day he met an Alliance officer known as Fleet Captain Ikon, at a bar in Central Square on Coruscant. The captain had offered Zekk a chance to leave that life behind and start a new one. He could not refuse. Shortly after their meeting, Zekk signed up for the fighter corps in a local recruiting office on Coruscant. The Alliance accepted him, with the good word of the captain, and shipped Zekk off to the academy at Fayrah. There he was taught how to be an officer, and to become a contributing member of the Rebel Alliance. Although some of his outstanding combat skills could be accredited to his trainers, most of his skills had been obtained by challenging the best pilots from other stations to simulator battles via the Alliance network. They helped him gain the expertise to become one of the best young pilots to graduate from the academy in some time. He had even befriended and met some of them at station parties. One of these was a fighter ace known only as Hunter. Of all his trainers, there was only one whose piloting abilities he respected, and that was Hunter. Zekk had the honor of meeting him but one time, and during that short period, the two had become close friends.

Zekk mused about his past, and what his future held. As he did so, he could not help but wonder what might have been had he not run into Taylus. Foot steps sounded behind him. Zekk turned and saw one of his academy trainers, Commander Xalier. Link Xalier had been the academy officer who had supervised the two qualification tests required for Zekk to graduate. Over a short time he had become one of Zekk’s closest friends. They did a lot of things together, such as, train, drink, or just talk about battle stratagem and flight maneuvers. Ensign Alvarion smiled and extended his hand, foregoing the normal salute.

“Hey commander, how’s it goin’?’’ said Zekk in a casual voice, as he raised his hand toward his brow in a poor imitation of a salute.

“Quite well. And how is you?” Link replied in his rough Basic, taking Zekk’s hand after properly returning the ensign’s salute. Although human, the commander struggled in his Basic speech. His native tongue was spoken only on Tatooine, unlike most other normal human-dominated worlds, who used Basic. The commander had jet black hair, pale white skin, large eyes of a deep brown, and short, bushy eyebrows to match the color of his eyes. Most of the time, Link was smiling. Even when he was not, the corners of his mouth tended to curl up as if he was just getting ready to. He had slightly built shoulders, and stood just less than two meters. Overall, he was a tall and lanky fellow. In spite of his gangly physique, one could not deny he had a charm about him that made one want to instantly befriend him. Zekk casually answered the commander.

“Doin’ well. You ready to tackle some drones today? Or is she still stuck in the repair yard?” Zekk taunted, as he flashed his lopsided grin. When Zekk had arrived all the pilots were chuckling about Link’s “Maneuver”. The Commander had damaged his ship while flying combat practice. Before that, he had spent days in the simulators trying to perfect a special maneuver to present to his commanding officer. Link was attempting a high speed maneuver through an asteroid field, when he had accidentally smashed into the side of one of the huge rocks right under the eyes of Admiral Hovington. Commander Xalier’s fighter had blown its shield generator, and melted down the starboard cannon. It was going to be a while before Link went back up in his fighter, and even longer before Zekk let him forget about it. The commander had little patience for the rookie’s antics.

“That is not at all being very funny. Is going to cost us many credits to repair her,” the commander said with a frown. He glared through impatient eyes at the ensign.

“Sorry, sir, I couldn’t resist.” Zekk paused for a moment. Then, as if changing the subject, he said, “Hey I had a question for you. If you’re comin’ in on a bogey at full throttle, and he manages to bank and dodge your fire, what’s the best thing to do? Keep the engines floored and wait for another chance, or throw back the throttle and try ‘n drop in behind him?” He fully well knew the answer to that, but it was the best cover he could manage for himself. The commander seemed to take no notice of this. Normally, a senior officer would question the abilities of a younger pilot for asking a question such as that.

“If you take passage by, you will be shot.” He raised his hand into the air and pointed a finger as he spoke. “You must slow down, bank quickly, and fire at him. That is the best way,” said Link matter-of-factly. He dropped both hands behind his back clasped them together, puffing his chest out. The sun glinted off three ribbons, highlighted in gold or silver.

“Thank you…I-I’ll remember that.” Passage by? Zekk thought to himself, as he raised his eyebrow. He was quite comfortable talking with the commander so casually. He had met him back at the Fayrah Academy when the commander had inspected those that were to replace the fallen pilots of Sabre. Just as he did most of the other officers, Zekk considered Link inferior in combat to himself, and never ceased to let it show. He knew how to show respect to a senior officer, but seized any moment he could to prove his skill superior to theirs. So far, he had never failed. Save twice. Once to Hunter, then during one of his early simulator battles, Zekk had lost to a pilot flying under an anonymous handle. He was certain that one day he would find out just who it was that had bested him.

The two continued to chat, surrounded by the craft of Sabre Squadron, as well as the Wings of Fire. Sabre was an A-wing squadron, Zekk’s favorite fighter, and the Wings of Fire flew X-wings. Unlike Sabre, who was a direct combat wing, the Wings of Fire flew escort to the diplomatic Nebulan B-class frigate, Vaserius. They were the flashiest fighters in the fleet, being painted with red and gold flames along their noses and wings. Many of the pilots in the fleet wanted to have the honor of flying as a member of them, but not Zekk. In his opinion, flying escort to the ambassador light years away from any combat zone was not his idea of fun.

The commander rambled on about new assignments. Zekk spent the next twenty minutes listening to him explain every little detail of the assignments given to the commander by the admiral of the fleet himself. Zekk was beginning to grow impatient, resisting the urge to shift from foot to foot, until his knees became stiff. The commander still did not stop talking. The conversation shifted to another topic as Link tried to familiarize his friend with the ‘rules of the game’ here at Sarpedon. The Alliance’s role here was to protect the local commerce, to help maintain stability in the local sector, and to maintain a strong force in case, one day, they would need to fight the Empire here, once again. The commander assured him that there would never again be any engagements with the Imperial fleet. Zekk wondered to himself if the commander truly believed this.

Still Link continued on, recalling all the battles he had fought in, and how he had been the savior of a medical convoy near the planet of Sullust. After that he described his experience flying X-wings near an old Imperial research platform near the Core Systems. The commander told of his sighting new fighters never seen by the Alliance before, and his near brush with death after falling under missile fire from TIE bombers. As much as the ensign enjoyed Commander Xalier’s company, there were times when the commander could ramble too much. At last, Zekk grew too bored listening to all his reminisces, especially as he had heard them all a dozen times before, and came up with an excuse to go. The conversation ended with a handshake, and Zekk bid his farewells to Link. The ensign went on his way to the main hall where he could meet up with the rest of his buddies and grab a bite to eat.

Zekk set off down the row of A-wings that belonged to Sabre Squadron, on his way to a turbo lift. The fighters looked like silent predatory birds roosting in their lair, awaiting the next call to battle. He whistled a Corellian tune to himself as he ran his fingers along the belly of an A-wing, admiring the beautiful sword crossed with flame and wreath on the first fighter in the row. He paused beside it, intrigued by its unique nose art. To either side of the cockpit were white rancor skulls with flames pouring out of the eye sockets. Etched above them was the name of the pilot who flew the craft, of which the ensign took no notice. Zekk decided he’d hop in and see what it was like inside. To his surprise, it was not much different from his, except for a few ‘decorations’. The pilot who flew this craft had a symbol on the dash that he was not familiar with. It was a kind of shield-like plate, set with gold and bronze, and inlaid with precious green stones. It too carried the skull of a rancor but with strange markings of a dialect not familiar to Zekk. Also, the trim around the brown leather seat was woven gold. Lastly, the seat itself was not standard issue. It was constructed with the newest memory gel that molded it self to an individuals shape. Clearly this guy spends way too much money on looks and comfort. He thought. Someone broke his thought as they spoke, startling Zekk slightly.

“So, what do you think of her? Pretty comfortable, wouldn’t you say?” asked an accented man dressed in a light blue jump suit that implied he was either a mechanic or a freight-handler.

Zekk turned his gaze down to the man. He folded his hands behind his back, and in a rather swaggering voice, he replied, “Very nice for a sitting room. I’ve never had the urge to chase Imperials from a couch, however.”

“Seem to me it’s a lot easier concentrating on lining up on a squint if you aren’t worried about all the little pains in your backside,” the man said as he shook his head. “I would think you would want all the comfort you could get,” he stated. The man had a handsome face, with hard sculpted features. His nose was sharp, and his jaws chiseled. He had wavy golden hair that came down over the tops of his ears, and jade-colored eyes with flecks of brown scattered throughout his irises. His skin tone was a few shades lighter than the tan Zekk had. Though not overly tall, he maintained a muscular, compact build. He wasn’t at all what the ensign thought of as a mechanic.

Zekk rolled his eyes and sarcastically smiled at the man. Obviously this guy doesn’t know what he is talking about, and has no business even breathing my air, Zekk thought to himself.

“You have a problem taking pointers, ensign?” asked the man, taking note of Zekk’s shoulder tabs.

“No, I’m just not used to discussing combat tactics with someone whose never been closer to space combat than using a wrench to tighten a nut on my exhaust tube,” he said in a rather pompous voice. Zekk gave him a sarcastic lopsided grin and stared the man down with a raised eyebrow. It felt quite satisfying to the ensign to set a mechanic in his place.

The man hesitated a moment, before removing his blue jump suit to reveal the tan khaki uniform underneath. There were four blue dots and a square on his breast, indicating the rank of admiral. He looked at up at Zekk with an emotionless frown, as if daring the ensign to say more. Zekk stared wide eyed in astonishment, and began to straighten up as he realized the extent of his mistake.

“Allow me to introduce myself, ensign. I am Vice-Admiral Hovington, squadron leader of Sabre and commander of the Mon Calamari cruiser Autonomy. That’s my fighter you are sitting in. Kindly get out of it,” Hovington said to Zekk in a cool tone. Zekk knew fully well he was in for one hell of a reprimand. Ohhh damn, Zekk thought. He stood up and scrambled down the ladder as fast as he could, barely managing to stay on his feet. He turned and faced the admiral, gesturing his hands in apology.

“Sir-I am very sorry, I had no idea- I didn’t mean to disrespect you or anything. You just caught me off guard wearing that suit, I was-‘’

“What’s your name young man?” Admiral Hovington asked abruptly.

“Uh, Ensign Zekk Alvarion, sir,” Zekk barked, stretching to stand straighter. “I’m uh, in your squadron. I recently shipped in from the Fayrah Academy, sir.”

“Well, a rather interesting start wouldn’t you say? Obviously you are very new to Sarpedon, or you would know how to address people around here. I don’t suppose you were paying very much attention to that during training. You’d better work on that, if you intend to make a career out of playing at being a fighter pilot. Have you ever flown A-wings before?”

“Aye sir, they are my number one choice of fighter, sir,” Zekk replied.

“Good choice. Who was your recruiter?” the Admiral asked. He stared with hard eyes through the ensign, as if a predator were talking to prey.

“Fleet Captain Ikon. He recruited me from Coruscant, and inducted me into the academy at Fayrah, sir,” Zekk replied.

“Fayrah eh? You were obviously involved in the fighter pilot training program. Judging by your uniform’s ribbons, or lack thereof, you haven’t seen much action prior to being shipped here. I will see that you are assigned a slot for flight evaluation testing and then I personally will judge whether or not you are suitable to this squadron.” It was uncommon for an officer to have to repeat an evaluation, and clearly this was the admiral’s punishment for the ensign. Zekk’s eyes glanced aside before returning to the admiral’s gaze. Hovington took a breath and raised his chin. He had obviously decided to make Zekk squirm under the microscope a while. “Wait a moment while I check your record,” Hovington said, snapping his head away. He walked over to the nearest data terminal, which was located near a fueling station. He typed in the requested information, and the computer displayed Ensign Alvarion’s service record. He scanned through it on the terminal. He went over it quickly, as there was not much to read. The Admiral finished and powered down the terminal. As he walked back over to Zekk, he said, “You have a fair amount of experience flying Correllian transports, particularly YT-1300s and YT-2000s, correct?”

“Yes sir. While I was living on Coruscant, I got involved with a shipping business. That was my only experience in flying prior to Fayrah. It should also say the old YT-520 on that list,” he replied.

“Graduated atop your class in the fighter pilot trainee program, as well as received a special award for marksmanship, correct?” Hovington queried, absent mindedly. It was as if he was doing his best to sound unimpressed with the ensign.

“Yes sir,” Zekk said with a hint of self esteem.

“Hmm, interesting. That could prove useful in the future.” Suddenly his voice became stern and cold. He locked his gaze on Zekk. “That is if you plan on competing in simulator tournaments for Sarpedon.” Hovington paused a moment while he thought, never leaving the ensign’s eyes. “Don’t go strutting about like you did. There are a lot of veterans here that have more action than you’ll be likely to ever see, and wouldn’t look twice at a marksmanship award like that. You are here because you graduated first in the Academy, so you have been given the privilege to join a fighter squadron. That was not my choice. But you are here, because some crackpot trainer at Fayrah decided it would be funny to attempt to turn a freighter pilot into a real pilot. We’ll soon find out if it worked. Now it is time to see if your skills measure up to your ego,” He paused again, allowing that to sink into the young pilot. “One other thing…next time, be sure of who you are talking to, and whose fighter you sit in, understood?”

“Aye sir,” Zekk said briskly. His eyes had become filled with anger at the admiral’s words, but there was nothing he could do in retort without ending his career. Zekk swallowed and flashed his eyes into the admiral’s.

“Very well ensign, you are dismissed,” Admiral Hovington said with the faint hint of a smile. The two saluted each other formally, and Zekk jogged off.

Whew, that was close. I got off with one there. What a jerk. Zekk thought to himself. He flexed his knuckles and stretched his fingers. The tendons on the back of his hand stuck out through his skin, speaking of their strength.

He walked down the hanger towards the turbo shaft and pressed a button. The over head speakers called for engineering assistance to Hanger Three, as Zekk stood at the lift entrance. The glow panel next to the controls was wavering and making a buzzing noise. Zekk pressed at the top of the panel with his left fore finger and punched it in the center with his right fist. The glow panel ceased its buzzing sound and resumed a steady glow. He heard the low thrum of the lift nearing. It arrived, and the doors opened. The ensign climbed in.

“Floor One,” he said.

FWISS went the sound of the turbo lift as it rocketed up one floor to the Main Hall. He gripped the sides of the turbo lift. It was so fast Zekk felt like he had left his stomach behind. Better get used to that, he thought. In just seconds the lift began an abrupt halt. The anti-gravity generator in the lift compensated for the high speed inertia, making it feel as though gravity was pulling Zekk down. It was a strange feeling, the opposite of what a person expected. The lift arrived at floor one.

The doors opened and he stepped out into the Main Hall. The Hall was a place where all the personnel of Sarpedon’s base could eat, play games, tell stories, or relax. The eating area consisted of a nice café and a lounge, filled with comfortable seats the pilots could sit at. An officer’s club was situated to the right of the lounge, where only the senior officers were allowed to eat. Rarely was there any admiral to be found there, as they usually dined aboard their command ships. Further to the back of the Hall was the gaming area. There one could play combat simulators, paddle-war, test their accuracy with the blaster, or engage in card playing. At the very back and to the left was a bar that had mostly non-alcoholic beverages, as there was an ironclad rule against a pilot drinking for 24 hours prior to duty. A drunken pilot was the last person you wanted to have on your wing and the Alliance was extremely intolerant of drunks. One little infraction and one would find themselves out of the fleet. When they had no imminent duty however, Zekk and his friends found the time to catch a transport to the main city and drink at what they called a “real bar”.

The walls extended high over head to the stone ceiling, supported by marble archways. Hung from the ceiling were the red and gold flag of the fleet, and the green station flag of Sarpedon. Various banners from different squadrons were hung to either side of them. On the right side hung Sabre Squadron’s flag and just next to it the Wings of Fire’s flag. To the left were the flags of two other squadrons he recognized: Slayer and Gold Squadron’s flags. There were also many other squadron banners that he did not recognize. Zekk entered and walked towards his friends, already eating. They all gestured for him to have a seat and start eating. A man with the handle Ace patted the bench beside himself, casually inviting Zekk to sit down, but Zekk took a seat next to Captain Taylus Ikon, his recruiter and best friend here in Sarpedon. Normally the captain would be at the officer’s club, but at times he liked to be amongst his friends of the lower ranks. It was the captain’s last day on Naboo, before he would return to his post at the Fayrah Academy. Next to him was Lieutenant Horvus, a pale orange-skinned ace pilot from Malastare who had been in the Alliance for about three years. He was an X-wing pilot in the Wing’s of Fire, as well as one of the Correllian transport pilots for the fleet. Horvus was a member of the Gran species, a normally peaceful people, who shared their home planet with the Dug, another sentient species. He, however, was much more combative than most of the other members of his race. This was made was clear by the fact that he had become a fighter pilot.

Horvus had one particular trait which made him an exceptional pilot, something that he shared with all Grans; though he could see the visible spectrum, he could also see infrared. This enabled him to spot ships or other space objects almost before a computer could. If wreckage was still warm, Horvus could tell how old the debris was, and what sort of weaponry was used in the attack.

Horvus and his species had always been noted for their hospitality and tranquility. In ten thousand years of history, the Gran had never recorded as having been in any wars. The Gran themselves were a compassionate race, that mated for life. If a Gran’s spouse died, it was not at all uncommon for the remaining one to die from grief. Horvus was kind and open to all he met. He had carried this kindness over in his relationship with Zekk. Zekk and Horvus had hit it off well at the paddle war tables, where the two had exchanged wins, and afterwards talked about the differences and similarities of their home worlds. They usually enjoyed discussing politics or adventures they had experienced. Horvus turned all three of his eyes towards Zekk, and smiled.

“Ah Zekk, so good to see you,” Horvus said in his almost impossibly deep voice. His eyes sometimes moved independently from one another, so looking him in the eye was often times difficult. Horvus was about a hand span shorter than the average human, but was stocky in build. He had triangular ears that turned slightly down. The bottoms had a sort of ruffled cut to them. Horvus’ mouth was at the end of a short, thin muzzle. He had thin, expressionistic lips, and above that were his two flat nostrils. The teeth of a Gran were similar to a human’s, except that they were more suited to chewing vegetation. His forehead was set forward of his square cheeks, where his three stalked eyes were set. Atop his broad head were several fleshy “whiskers” used for feeling and sensing brain paths from other creatures. His neck had three major tendons on either side running up to the base of his skull. The vocal box of Horvus was much larger than a human’s, spreading almost the entire width of his wide neck. He spread his hands as he continued. “Taking a look at your new fighter I presume? You know there have been many disturbances in the Rendalli sector; it would be wise to acquaint yourself with her. We may see action soon.” He finished, casting his eyes to the ground in dismay.

“Now Horvus, we all know High Command would never send us that far away, just to chase some rag tag team of rusty Imperials. They leave that to local security forces,” said another pilot snidely. The man was from the Wings of Fire, and was known as Lyle. He was a lieutenant junior grade that felt he was above everyone but the captains and admirals. The lieutenant constantly exerted and abused his power and was always shooting his mouth off at everyone else. He loved to pick on those under him. In short order, he had gotten himself labeled as a loud mouth.

Horvus swiveled the stalks that supported his eyes towards Lyle, and with an annoyed voice said, “Oh you think so do you? You should use your common sense lieutenant junior grade. Imperials are not to be underestimated, especially ones we know little about. For all we know there could be a fleet of star destroyers behind those scout craft. They had to have come from somewhere, at least a station, and that means trouble. And do not speak so callously of the sector forces. They would give their lives in a futile attempt to defend a civilian convoy.” The group around Lyle went momentarily silent then began to murmur quietly, averting their eyes from the chastised lieutenant to Horvus. Lyle stopped smiling. Feeling that he had said enough to quiet Lyle, Horvus raised his hands and motioned for Zekk to have a seat.

“Thanks Horvus. I see you managed to scare them all again. So what’s the special of the day? Ah, I see it’s deep fried daggart again, so I’ll be having that with the house vinegar,” Zekk said after examining the menu. Horvus gave the order to the waiter, and turned back to his meal of leafy vegetables. Lieutenant Berins, who often times went by his call name, or “handle”, of Talon, sat opposite the table from Zekk. Berins’ role here was an assistant ambassador, but he had previously been in Sabre Squadron as ‘Sabre Eight’. He smiled as he greeted Zekk with a warm ‘hello’.

“Greetings ensign, how are you today?’’ Talon asked warmly.

“I’m doing fairly well, how go things with you? I trust you had a smooth flight from Fayrah.” he replied. Zekk had met the lieutenant on Fayrah just after getting his wings. As his first assignment Zekk had flown the assistant ambassador to from the Academy to Sarpedon. This was no small ordeal, as few ensigns were deemed skilled enough to be entrusted to such a task. Berins reached across the table to shake Zekk’s hand.

“I’m fine, thank you, and yes, the flight was…adequate.” He hesitated on the last word, recalling how Zekk had exceeded the planetary speed barrier far beyond its limit and remembering his own escapades as a young pilot. “I was just sitting down to eat and relax. There’s a ton of work to do of late, being that the ambassadors from Theed will be here next week. I have to write speeches, worry about procedure, and I still have to turn in my reports for the sector activity levels.” He chuckled quietly, as if thinking. “I certainly hope the meeting will go well with the ambassadors fro-‘’

“Where’s the difficulty in that? Anybody could do it, it’s just some little meeting with a group of nobodies from Theed,” Lyle interrupted. Lyle rolled his eyes when he had finished his interruption. Zekk grimaced and looked at Berins. Horvus glowered at Lyle, and stood up quickly. He had had enough of Lyle’s disrespect for the day. Horvus narrowed all three of his eyes, focused them on Lyle, and perked his droopy ears forward.

“-from Theed. And hope that the ambassadors don’t judge us all by the few foolhardy people we have here,” Berins continued as though he had not been interrupted. Horvus was going to say something, but decided not to. He seemed satisfied with the quick retort by the ambassador, and sat back down. Ensign Alvarion raised his eyebrows and sighed. Berins stood up slowly and stacked his dishes. “Well gentlemen, I think I’ve spent enough time among you peasants. The ambassador just walked in and he’ll need me. You kids just stay out of trouble, ok?” He walked away eyeing them with a warm smile. Horvus told him to be off, gesturing his hands in dismissal of the lieutenant’s mockery. The Gran turned back to his crunchy meal.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Horvus?” Zekk asked, staring down at the Gran’s meal.

“Nurrian sharg mollusks and Gungan salad. Would you care for a taste?” He lifted his fork, dangling strange kelp, oozing with the slime from the shargs.

Zekk stared at the mushy mess of grey shargs. Their black eyes looked back up at him. “Uh, no thanks, I’m fine with my deep fried daggarts.” Horvus looked at him with a puzzled look, and went back to eating his meal. Beep!-sounded the message alarm on Zekk’s data pad. He looked down to see what it was. There was a message from his commanding officer, and the ensign smiled to himself as he saw it.

“Now see here guys, I have a special request from my CO. Obviously my extraordinary talent and ingenuity that surpasses all of yours has finally been noticed. What can I say? Special people deserve special treatment,” parodied Zekk in a joking but pompous manner. Groans erupted from the other pilots nearby, and a man named Ace moved over and sat down next to Zekk. Ace was also human, a lieutenant, and had become friends with Zekk when the ensign has first arrived at the recruitment office on Coruscant.

Ace had interviewed Zekk before he joined, and had deemed him worthy to enroll in the Academy. He had given Zekk many pointers and had trained him in the simulators, all the while encouraging the ensign and keeping his hopes high. Ace was known for his rebellious attitude, fiery temper, and his inability to take orders without question. In that respect, he was much like Zekk. Ace was thirty years of age, standing about a hand span taller than Zekk. He had electric blue eyes, blonde hair he kept in a spiky fashion, and pale skin. Having spent as much time in the gym as Zekk, he was physically fit beneath the orange jumpsuit he liked to wear at all times. Ace liked to think of himself as a lady’s man, and Zekk liked to think of Ace as someone who could only do well at a bar. There was a constant friendly competition between the two pilots. Zekk had probably shared more drinks with Ace than any other person in his entire life.

Ace always told Zekk that when the two of them were together, they were a pair of predators. Though he had been serving the Alliance far longer than Berins or Horvus, he had only been promoted twice. The higher ranks disapproved of his rebellious attitude, and it was a wonder that Ace had not been discharged for it yet. Ace’s service record was brilliant; he had shot down almost as many enemy fighters as Admiral Hovington himself. Ace had been awarded four medals and a citation ribbon. He had also won many trophies during inter-station simulated warfare. On Coruscant, the lieutenant had attended a number of space fairs. While at them, he had made an effort to educate the local children about fighters and their pilots. Perhaps his biggest goal was to convince them that fighter pilots were the greatest role models in the universe. Zekk could hardly agree more.

“Alright then hot shot, let’s see what you got,” Ace said, peering down at Zekk’s data pad with a smile. As usual he was fingering the holster at his side.

“Ahem,” Zekk cleared his voice. “It says-‘Upon request of your CO , you have been given the solemn duty to report to the hanger at 1500 hours, where you will meet with junior mechanic Dorsten and assist him in the cleaning of your squadron’s hu-l-l-s’.”

Laughter burst out all around him as the rest of the group comments like “oh yeah, special treatment” and “you’ve really been noticed now”. Zekk was thoroughly embarrassed. He sunk back into his chair while everyone else was whooping and pounding their hands on the tables. He sat with a frown on his face. Now he didn’t feel at all like eating or joking around with his friends anymore. Zekk could only guess that this was in response to his previous encounter with the squadron leader. On only his fourth day here he was already in trouble! Blasters, just my luck, he thought. He was ready to retire, but no, he had an appointment now.

“Zekk, don’t let this bother you, it’s only a few ships, and this will stay with you for the rest of your life as what will most likely and hopefully be your most embarrassing moment!” exclaimed Ace with laughter filling his voice. That sparked a whole new array of laughter. Zekk got up and left to go back to his quarters, pilots hollering after him the whole way. Ace was pounding on the table and laughing ever harder, telling Zekk to come back.

“Settle down and be quiet!” Horvus ordered as he watched Zekk leaving with dismay. Zekk walked uncomfortably towards the turbo shaft. He arrived at the turbo lift and hit the yellow panel to open the door. It made a soft fwiss as it opened. He stepped inside the tube and the door closed behind him.

“Floor Three, lower officer’s quarters,” he said. The lift’s computer flashed a green light in compliance.

The low thrum kicked in as the turbo lift accelerated at an astonishing rate. He reached his level and got out, walking towards his quarters. Zekk took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking about his newest assignment. With his fingers sliding against the cold stone of the corridor, he tried to relax, saying to himself it was no big deal. However, he knew he was going to hear about it for a while, and feared it might maim him as far as getting on the good side of the admiral. He smiled at another ensign that walked by. Zekk scratched the back of his neck nervously, trying to rationalize the situation, but it was not working.

At last he reached his destination. ROOM 54 said the sign on the door. Beep! He pressed a button, and the door opened. Zekk walked in, setting his data pad down on his nightstand. Inside was a simple but adequate cot and nightstand with a com link attached to it. There was a picture on the back wall of his best friend Jorion, who disappeared a short time before Zekk joined the Alliance. Above the head board on his bed was his squadron insignia and a hand-painted “Rebel Alliance” in red and gold letters. He had two small shelves on the walls to the left of the entrance that supported an armored belt with a skull-like gang insignia he had found in the lower depths of Coruscant, and a sinuous insect-eating plant known as a welvin. The walls were grey durasteel, with some sandy colored stone thrown in the mix. He had a model of an assault frigate and a ‘YT-2000’ Corellian transport on his work bench.

Next to them rested his flight helmet, with the classic red Rebel insignia on it, and a pair of jet black gloves. Like all pilots, he liked to customize his flight helmet. In Zekk’s case, he had painted solid burgundy streaks from the head back. Over the ear guards were two Twi’lek dancing girls Ace had painted for Zekk. Ace reassured Zekk that this way, his mind could never be too far away from “the real prize”, even during combat. The ensign felt it added some character to his helmet so had kept his friend’s gift. There was a dresser where Zekk kept his clothes and valuables. Hung on the wall were his flight suit, his dress uniform, and a set of casual clothes. In case of a mid-night snack attack, he kept some of his favorite bread in the food locker. On the shelf above that there was a terrarium, with his pet lance snake, Gallack.

Gallack was a sentient, extremely venomous serpent from Yavin IV. Although most thought the snake semi-sentient at best, Zekk had found otherwise, much to his surprise. He had purchased the serpent from a Bothan merchant somewhere in the depths of Coruscant. For hours Zekk had walked through the Bothan’s shop, trying to find the pet he was looking for. He had come across all sorts of strange and marvelous creatures, but still was at a loss to choose one.

Suddenly Zekk had felt a sort of tugging at his mind. Something was calling to him. A voice in his mind spoke softly, Me, me. For many more minutes the voice continued to call to him, until at last he came across a cage filled with leaf clutter. Something was moving beneath the leaves, and the voice had stopped. Zekk felt dismayed at hearing the voice cease, he wanted to locate the source. As he turned his back to walk away, the creature within the cage emerged. The voice told him to come back, and as Zekk turned he saw it. It was a snake, with menacing green eyes. The serpent was over one and a half meters in length, and as thick as a man’s forearm. At first Zekk thought its hide was of the same color and pattern as the leaves in his cage, but it was not. It was a creamy grey. The snake had risen off the ground, and was flicking its tongue in and out, as if greeting him. Its head was shaped like a triangle, and had spines hidden beneath scales that it could extend whenever the snake needed to defend itself.

I am Gallack, the snake had said. You must help. Her eyes were hard emeralds that shone in the light. Somehow Zekk knew it was female. Gallack had a pair of small horns that stuck through the roof of her top jaw, and rested in a pair of holes that allowed them to be seen externally. The Bothan shop keeper smacked the side of the cage, thinking the snake was being aggressive with his potential client. At the same moment, Gallack had hissed, and spewed a grayish liquid all over the transparisteel. The cage wall began to heat and sizzle from the strange fluid. At the time, Zekk was not sure if it was the grayish substance or the size of her fangs had startled him more. Gallack’s fangs were about the length of his smallest finger. He could see now that this was no ordinary creature.

In asking the shop keeper where he had found her, the man simply replied that a space smuggler had picked her up from Yavin IV. Zekk had to purchase her. After bartering with the Bothan shop keeper for some time, they settled on a price that would be fair for any small, common pet. It was obvious the Bothan man did not know just how special this “snake” was. Zekk had taken her with him to Fayrah, and later to his new home in Sarpedon. Her diet consisted of live rodents, and the occasional slice of fish Zekk would bring back to her. Zekk and Gallack preferred to think of each other as good friends, rather than master and pet. The human was especially attached to Gallack, who showed incredible loyalty to him.

To the left of the entrance was a bathroom, where Zekk had yet another pet. It was a fish named Ziel, who resided in a large tank filled with room temperature water. Zekk had bought the fish from another one of the academy pilots back on Fayrah. Gallack had been attempting to eat Ziel at first, but she soon learned Zekk did not want to go along with that. Ziel was a predatory fish that was about two hand spans long. He had greens and purples and blues that swirled throughout his body, with wavy skirt-like fins that ran the length of his body from the head back. Ziel’s razor sharp teeth were quite noticeable, being in length about the same as a human’s fingernail. His fins would send electric colors in wave-like patterns up and down his back. Zekk enjoyed feeding him insects, and sometimes pieces of meat off his plate. Ziel was in a fairly angry and panicked mood over being transported from his old home at the Fayrah Academy. It was clear he missed sharing the old tank with a female of his species. Zekk was already looking around to find another mate for the fish. Both creatures had little by little become like family to the young ensign.

Gallack slithered up to the top of her bed, and dropped down onto the floor. Lifting her head, the snake flicked her tongue out several times before moving towards the human. You are in trouble again, aren’t you? She asked, sending her thoughts to his mind. Zekk never had to answer her orally, though he sometimes did, as Gallack was able to read his mind. What’s the difference? He answered her. You are indeed. Humans…such strange animals. He could not tell if she was laughing at him or not. Gallack always seemed to mock him when he was in trouble. The serpent slithered towards him, crawling up his back, and coiling around his neck. She liked the warmth of her comrade’s neck and throat. The ensign stroked her back gently with his hand, before turning off the light. With that, Zekk flopped down on his mattress, buried his head in his pillow, and decided to take an hour’s nap before going to the hanger to clean the hulls.

* * *

Zekk headed off down the corridors on his way to the turbo lift. Ok, let’s get this over and done with. Fast. He hopped onto the turbo lift, and said, “Main Hanger”. Off with a ‘swoosh’ went the elevator. He spent the brief time in the turbo lift relaxing and trying to not feel too embarrassed about his ‘assignment’. The lift stopped and the door opened. Zekk got out and shot down the corridors on his way to the main hanger. As he arrived at the hanger entrance, he saw a young man in a mechanic’s suit. He was average height, with a mop of light brown curly hair that he stuffed under his mechanic’s hat.

“Ensign Alvarion?’’ The young man asked with a voice that hinted he had a low confidence level.

“Yes, that’s me. Are you junior mechanic Dorsten?” Zekk queried.

“Yes sir, I am. I understand you are to help me clean and polish the hulls for Sabre Squadron’s A-wings.” Zekk stood expectantly, without expression. “Ok then, let’s get started.” The mechanic had two buckets set aside, filled to the brim with a strong chemical-smelling liquid. Dorsten pulled something out of his tool box, and walked over to Zekk. The mechanic handed him a soft rag and a pad coated in wax. “Ok, you soak the towel in the liquid-“

“You mean potion,” Zekk interrupted.

“Heh, yeah, it’s not so appetizing. Soak it in there, and then squeeze it out. Now you rub the whole hull down and get the grime off. After you’re done, you wax the hulls with the pad. Be sure not to leave the wax on after you’re done, because it’ll leave smudges everywhere. Use this pressure-hose to blast off the wax buildup, ok?”

“How many are you gonna do?” Zekk asked in a vexed manner.

“I will take four, you take the other four. We flip a coin on the last one, ok?” Dorsten replied.

“Yeah ok, deal,” said Zekk. He began to work on Commander Xalier’s damaged A-wing. There was a tarp thrown over the destroyed cannon, so the ensign made sure to get no water near that area. He could not believe the amount of grit coming off. What a louse he must be for letting it get this way, Zekk thought. Zekk took great pride in keeping everything he owned clean. He had lived in a place of dank filth before, and had no desire to go back to it. Seeing this was a shame. He started with the aft of the ship, around the engines, working his way forward, along the sides, underneath to the belly, around to the cannons, the cock pit window, and finished off with the nose. He was sure to get every crack and depression on the fighters. After he was through washing, he waxed the hull down. Zekk checked his chronometer. It had taken him thirty-one minutes and seventeen seconds to complete Link’s ship.

The rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning and waxing the last of the fighters left for Sabre. He got better and better each time. At some point a few pilots came along and told Zekk he’d missed a spot. Zekk just ignored them, instead contemplating putting cement-putty on their seats. The ensign laughed to himself as he thought about it. That must be what mechanics do to get at pilots. Zekk waxed the last panel on his last craft, and hopped down off the fighter. It came down to the final ship, and Dorsten came over to Zekk.

“What a job that was. I must say they look sharp. I didn’t think it was goin’ to be that hard to do,’’ Zekk said as he took a deep breath. He stretched his arms into the air and turned to the junior mechanic.

“Hey nice job man, those ships are lookin’ pretty shiny and spiffy now. Now we just clean out the buckets and put the towels up, ok?” Dorsten helped Zekk move the buckets over to the hose. They sprayed the buckets with the pressure hose, and hung the towels on a tool cart. Only one bucket was left full of cleaning solution. “Oh, we also need to flip a coin on that last ship over there. Ready?” asked Dorsten.

“Yeah, sure,” said Zekk. He put his hand on his hip, staring at the mechanic impatiently.

“Call it, letters or numbers?” asked Dorsten.

“Numbers,” he replied. Zekk began to grow tired of Dorsten’s company. The ensign put his hands on his hips, staring aimlessly over the mechanic’s head.

Dorsten flipped the credit-coin into the air and caught it. The two leaned forward to look at the coin. “It says…letters, tough luck.” The mechanic said as he handed Zekk the coin. The ensign stared at it with shock while Dorsten walked off and to get on his hover car. Zekk looked at the coin closely, noticing both sides were letters.

“Hey!’’ Zekk yelled gallingly, but the mechanic was already onto his car zooming away. Zekk threw the coin at Dorsten, and it landed behind the vehicle. He was fuming with anger. He looked for something else to throw, but found nothing. All Zekk wanted was to get his hands around that mechanic’s neck, and wring it. After tossing his hands in the air a last time, Zekk turned back to the job at hand. He thought it best to get the last craft over and done with, so set to work on it. The ensign knew that there would a next meet between himself and the mechanic. When that time came, he would exact his revenge. And that, must be how mechanics got other mechanics.

This concludes chapter one and the introduction of Zekk and his friends.

Look for next month’s issue in, “Behind the Mask”, where the hidden enemy is revealed.