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[Bridge, Privateer Nebulon-B Frigate Brazen]

"Incoming warheads!" yelled the sensor operator, fear in his voice.

"Krayt's Teeth! Saturation fire, forward guns! Five hundred credits to the gunner who brings down the most warheads!"


"He's backing off!" yelled Cosh Three, gleefully "I've got him!"

Raiven waited for the fighters to close to within a click before jerking the fighter vertically to avoid the fire from the foremost fighter, an R-41 Starchaser. Corkscrewing over the line of fire, he snapped off a pair of quad bursts at the lead fighter as his nose swung backwards and forwards before settling in the direction of the frigate. The first burst took the older fighter on the nose, collapsing the remaining shields an instant before the second burst struck the engine compartment, blowing the R41 apart.

The Starchaser's wingman, flying a venerable-looking Preybird fighter, jerked away from the explosion to save his craft, allowing the Republic X Wing to flash past. Raiven kept an eye on the range to this craft for a couple of seconds before deciding that it was too far away to threaten him for the time being.

"OK, Arpin, give me the Frigate."

The frigate flashed up in the main Multi Function Display as the yellow torpedo targeting box on the HUD sprung to life, enclosing the grey, spindly-looking shape of the frigate.


"Here he comes!" yelled Stemas, swivelling his guns toward the incoming X Wing and opening fire.

Ibero swung his stick hard over as the ion bolts slammed into his forward shields, sending artificial lightning across them. As he did so, Drake sideslipped out from behind his fighter, guns blazing. Ibero nodded with satisfaction as the blood red laser bolts pierced the bomber's shields and slammed into the port engine nacelle, leaving a pair of ugly black holes spewing vapour into the cold vacuum of space.

"Wolf, break left!" crackled the commlink.

Ibero broke to the left, followed a fraction of a second later by Drake, who took a slightly shallower path to protect his wingman's back. A pirate T Wing flashed past, followed closely by an Iberyan X Wing, who in turn was trying to shake the pirate Pinook fighter clinging to his tail. Ibero quickly inverted and turned to follow the three ships, Drake returning to position above, behind and to the left.

"Ledner, get me an update on Two-two."

The R2 unit trilled an affirmative and displayed a miniature map on the MFD showing the relative positions of all of the craft in the immediate area. A green circle surrounded the icon representing the lone Republic X Wing, now less than a klick from the pirate capital ship. Close behind was a pirate fighter, also intent on blasting this insolent X Wing to pieces.

"Two-two, what the hell are you doing?"


"I've got it covered, thanks," replied Raiven, dryly, and winced as one of the frigate's turbolaser bolts splashed across his front shields

[I bloody well haven't!] screeched Arpin. [Shields at 54%!]

The X Wing corkscrewed and jinked as it closed on the frigate. Raiven took one last look at the capital ship's status, confirming its shields were down.

"Arpin, give me the fighter behind us."

[Useless lump of Bantha dung] replied Arpin, but the image of the fighter popped up in the cockpit display.

"Steady, steady," said Raiven to himself, levelling out for a fraction of a second. His finger tightened on the trigger and a pair of Proton Torpedoes leapt from their launch tubes on each side of the long, narrow fuselage. Pulling up and away from the frigate, Raiven shunted power back to his shields, reinforcing them after the battering they'd taken.

The torpedoes flew straight from their launch tubes without guidance and detonated against the first solid object encountered - the portside main structural member holding the frigate's bridge in place above the join of the engineering hull with the central spine.

[Well, I'll be damned. You actually managed to hit something]

"Thanks" grunted Raiven as the inertial compensators failed to keep up entirely with a tight turn. Pulling the throttle back to 1/3 and turning hard to the left, he forced the Preybird to overshoot. Slamming the throttle forward, he accelerated in pursuit of the pirate fighter.


"Wow! Look at that!" said Drake in amazement as the frigate was decapitated, the bridge reduced to a roiling ball of golden fire on the engineering hull. "Mike?"

"I see it," replied Raiven, tension in his voice. Drake watched as his wingman carved the Preybird to pieces with precise quad laser bursts. The X Wing pulled away as the pirate fighter exploded.

"OK, I'm clear."


"Brazen, do you read? Anybody aboard the Brazen, report in!"

"This is Allyns, chief engineer. We've lost the bridge."

"Vultures, this is Raider Lead. All craft, pull back. Repeat, all craft pull back!"

A chorus of reluctant replies signalled the acceptance of the pirates.


"The frigate is turning," reported one of the Iberyan pilots.

"Damn," said Ibero "I was hoping they'd hit a couple of asteroids before they regained control. She must have a good crew in engineering. Looks like they're pulling back."

"Roger that, Wolf Lead" replied Chacal. "All Iberyan forces, pull back, let them go. There's no need for anyone else to die here today."

The order was largely unnecessary, as the remaining few fighters on each side had already disengaged. The Republic fighters reformed and then joined with the remaining Iberyan fighters - both X Wings, a Headhunter and a TIE - all of which showed signs of damage - and headed back towards the freighters. The Nube was already picking up downed pilots - both survivors and the not so fortunate - by the time the frigate had recovered its fighters and jumped out. Fifteen minutes later and the relief convoy was leaving nothing but scrap in the asteroid belt.

"Iberyan Forces, this is Wolffang Lead. Form up and jump on my mark... and that includes Wolffang flight, this time. 3...2...1... Mark."

The craft leapt into hyperspace.

[Redault, Mantara Sector]

With a flicker of pseudomotion, the Wolf's Lair burst from hyperspace into the Redault system, scattering fighters from the flight deck as it bored in towards the primary planet.

"We've got nothing but debris up here," announced Arachnoid from the lead A Wing. The Wolfseye craft were flying ahead of the main body of fighters, launched first to scout the system as the carrier and heavier craft approached a little more cautiously. Split into flight pairs, the craft were each assigned an area of responsibility while they scanned the area.

Flying with the B Wings of Wolfclaw and the remaining X Wings of Wolffang were the Command Wing, ranged ahead slightly to provide security.

"I've got something!" yelled Hawk, "Behind the moon, something big…."

[Hangar Deck, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

Ibero triggered the canopy of his fighter to open as he unstrapped himself from the seat and stretched. It had been a long, long day, but at least by the time the three-craft Wolffang patrol had arrived at Redault with one of the Iberyan freighters, the Castellia, the area had been secured.

A clang from the side of his fighter made him jump a little, before he realised it was a crew boarding ladder being hoisted - none too gently - into place. The Iberyan pilot climbed down to the deck and undid his helmet's chin strap and lifted it off his head, taking the opportunity to scratch that spot that always itched-

"Welcome back." It was Foxfire. The pair began to walk across the flight deck as the deck crew prepared to move the fighter up onto the Hangar Deck for maintenance.

"Thanks. We brought along some people to help-"

"Yeah, we noticed," said the Squadron CO "So, who were they? Pirates?"

"Certainly looks that way. One frigate supported by a couple of squadrons of fighters, Uglies mostly. We fought them off, but the Iberyan escort squadron took heavy losses. They stayed behind on Talonis while we continued on."

Foxfire nodded again "Well, I'd say that the supplies will definitely be of some help."

"So what's the news here? How bad is it?"

"Not quite as bad as Talonis," said Foxfire with a sigh "But it's not exactly a holiday destination down there."

"Any trouble with the Imperials?"

"We arrived a minute or so too late. All we caught were the back ends of a VSD and pair of Corvettes jumping into hyperspace from behind the moon. We got a rough track on their hyperspace vector, so Arachnoid and his group are out sweeping the area."

"You don't sound very optimistic," said Ibero "Think we've lost them?"

Foxfire sighed and nodded "I'm afraid so, but we'll find them again. I've got a few things I should be attending to. Do you have anything else to report?"

[Bomb Shelter, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair, Three hours later]

Foxfire stuck her head through the door to see Razor and Drake sat in one corner, talking. She walked over as Razor tilted her head back in laughter.

"Sorry to interrupt, have you seen Raiven?"

Drake looked up, still smiling. "I think he's in the ready room finishing some datawork. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing, just some good news," replied Foxfire, turning to walk away.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the battle at the Kruger Drift, would it?"

Foxfire hesitated for a second. "Well, I suppose you'll find out soon enough," she flashed the datapad she was carrying "He's been promoted to Lieutenant."

Drake grinned. "Could I ask a favour...?"


[Wolffang Ready Room, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

Raiven was checking the maintenance record for his X Wing when Drake strode in, almost marching. Seeing this, he leapt to his feet, saluting smartly as he did when he thought his wingman was being a little too stiff.

Drake turned and raised an eyebrow, as if in surprise.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sir, saluting a superior officer, Sir!" said Raiven in his best cadet-in-training voice.

"Really?" said Drake, making a big issue of looking around the room. "I don't see one here."

It took a few seconds for Raiven to catch on to exactly what Drake was talking about. He collapsed into his chair in surprise.

"No... that can't be right... how? Why? What?"

"Your personnel record came through from the Katarina. The Colonel's been a bit busy recently, so she's only just got around to sorting it out. Combined with your performance at the Kruger Drift, you're now promoted to Lieutenant. Congratulations."

Raiven sat, still in shock.

"Look, if it's any consolation, don't think of it as losing your opportunity to take the piss out of me, think of it as the opportunity to help me take the piss out of the Lieutenant Commanders without serious risk."

Raiven's face brightened considerably. "Ah. Solo. Torpedo. Groznik. Hardrive."

"Just think of the possibilities..."

Raiven stood up, grinning like an idiot, and accepted Drake's hand and congratulations.


[Bomb Shelter, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

"...So there I am in an inverted power dive, less than a minute from burning up in the planet's atomsphere. Ledner's screaming in one ear, Arrebnac Traffic Control in the other. I edge in a bit closer to the yacht and get a visual scan through the main viewscreen. What do I see? - "

"Do we want to hear this?" asked Razor.

"You may not but the lads will," said Drake "Anyway, inside there's the captain and his first mate - nice girl - "

Razor elbowed Drake in the ribs.

" - So there they were, horizontal and superimposed. Looked pretty busy so I fired a couple of rounds across their nose. Got their attention, anyway. They pulled out of their dive - so did I, naturally - and escorted them down."

"What happened to them?" asked Sledgehammer.

"'Flying without due care and attention' for the pilot - hefty fine, but he was flying one of those things so he could afford it."

"'Without due care and attention?'" said Vyper with a grin "I've never heard of it described quite like that before."

Razor checked her chrono. "Well, time for bed." She across at Drake "Are you going to walk me back to my cabin, then?"

Raiven, Vyper and Sledgehammer made suggestive noises.

"Sure" replied Drake "After you."

The pair walked towards the exit.

"Go for it!"

"Good on ya son!"

Drake paused at the door long enough to turn and perform a florid bow, before Razor's hand reached from the side and pulled him from view.

"I'll get another round in, shall I?" said Sledgehammer, getting up.

"Better make it the last one for Mike, I think he's just about celebrated enough for tonight." said Vyper, looking across at the other pilot, who was beginning to sway a little in his seat.

Sledgehammer returned with three tall glasses of Blue Stuff and set them carefully on the table. He turned to Raiven.

"Sorry it's not warm beer, mate, but at least it's got alcohol in it," he said with a grin.

"Ah-ha!" replied Raiven, straightening up. "That's what I've got to do."

"What?" asked Vyper, taking a sip of his drink.

Raiven slipped four flat discs from his pocket, each about four centimetres in diameter. He got up and staggered over to the bar, where he retreived four cans of Arrebnaccian beer that he knew Drake was saving for a special occasion.

"Mike, you've got a drink here," protested Sledgehammer.

Raiven ignored him, turned the beer cans over and clipped a disc into the hollow of the bottom of each can, before returning the cans to their place on the shelf.

"What're they?" asked Vyper.

"Thermal heat packs" said Raiven, slurring his speech a little, "Triggered to go off when the can is opened. I'll show that bastard about warm beer." He added with a grin.

Sledgehammer waved his glass of drink from the table.

"Ugh, no thanks, I'll leave the hyperdrive coolant for another time," said Raiven, staggering towards the door. "Catch you tomorrow."

[Wolfshead Squadron Deep Space Patrol]

"Watch it, Lead, you've got one on your tail!"

Drake's head snapped around, painfully aware of the TIE Advanced fighter which was struggling to slot into position on the tail of his X-wing.

"Thanks, Two-three," he muttered tightly.

"Relax, Lead, I'm on him." Razor's voice was confident and as cool as ice in the middle of winter. "Break hard right on my mark."

"Make it quick, Two-three, or else Alpha Two is gonna break me," Drake growled, furiously juking his X-wing and sending it into a corkscrewing roll. To his frustration, the Advanced which stuck to his tail, although not able to get off a clear shot, wasn't being put off its flying either.

"Three…two…mark!"

Drake, startled at the abbreviated countdown, wildly flung his X-wing onto its starboard wing, slightly reducing speed as he pulled the stick back for all it was worth. As the X-wing slewed forcefully aside from its former flight path, its pilot re-engaged the throttle and it raced forward. The TIE Advanced pursuing the young Wolfshead pilot, making full use of its superior maneuverability, neatly sideslipped and sent a quad burst of bright green laserfire into the rear of Drake's fighter. There was an angry curse and a sickening crunch over the comm as a good portion of Drake's rear shields disappeared.

Razor, sitting in the cockpit of her A-wing, didn't respond. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she spun her craft one hundred and eighty degrees to port, letting the light Republic fighter fall like a stone, then pulling back into level flight on the tail of the TIE Advanced. The latter craft tried to move, but it was too late. Even as her targeting reticle flashed yellow, Razor's gloved fingers found the trigger and a concussion missile streaked outwards in a burst of flame, almost immediately thudding into the TIE Advanced. The Imperial fighter spun wildly for a moment, then raced away in a burst of speed. Razor fought the urge to follow, instead closing her A-wing up into formation on Drake's wing.

"Lead, what's your status?" she asked, a little concern managing to creep into her usually calm and confident voice.

"A little shaken up, Two-three, and my hull has a few scorch marks on it, but otherwise I'm okay. Thanks, Razor," he finished softly.

"Any time, Lead."

Despite the situation, Drake risked a glance over towards his wing, seeing the female pilot give him a thumbs-up from her A-wing.

"Razor, dive!" Drake yelled, instantly pulling his X-wing up into a sharp climb. Without replying, the A-wing pilot drove her fighter down, rapidly opening the distance between the two fighters just as another TIE Advanced streaked through the gap, cannons blazing.

"I've got him, Two-three, go and teach Alpha Two some manners, will you? I'd be much obliged."

"Certainly, Lead," Razor acknowledged, and was gone.

As Drake's hands automatically strove to bring his X-wing in behind Alpha One, the craft that had nearly just ended his life, he evaluated his tactical situation. Of the four X-wings and two A-wings that he had started with for this patrol, only two X-wings and a single A-wing remained. There were still three TIE Advanceds hunting them, which made for very bad odds indeed.

Still, there's no way I'm going to let these Imps get the better of us, the young Wolfshead pilot thought grimly.

"Okay, Wolves, close it up on their leader now," he ordered, suddenly coming to a decision. "It's one to one odds here, and it's going to make life a whole lot easier if we concentrate our attacks and pick them off one at a time."

Drake got four clicks in acknowledgement, and he dipped the nose of his X-wing, squeezing off a quad burst of laser fire which splashed against Alpha One's starboard wing shields.

"Two-three, see if you can get a missile lock on this guy," Drake ordered. "I'll try and pin him in place with laserfire. That way, he'll have to choose between a rock and a hard place."

"Affirmative, Lead," Razor's voice came back, for once sounding a little strained. "Be there as soon as I can. Seventeen, can you give me a hand with Alpha Two? He's starting to annoy me."

"Roger, Two-three," Sacart's voice broke in. "Alpha Three has broken off for a bit - I just gave him some hull damage to think about."

Drake glanced through his cockpit window, seeing Sacart's X-wing peel off towards where Razor seemed to be on the run from the second TIE Advanced, which was firing intermittent bursts at her. The third TIE Advanced was in a graceful arcing turn, slowly coming around to rejoin the battle as its shields recharged.

No, you don't, Drake thought fiercely. Cutting his speed by two-thirds, he spun his X-wing around ninety degrees and accelerated away at full throttle even before the Imperial flight leader knew he was gone. The pilot of Alpha One, however, didn't let his mistake last for long. With a grunt of his own, he whipped his fighter around after the speeding X-wing.


"I've got you now," Drake snarled as he laid down a withering hail of fire which Alpha Three was too slow to properly avoid. The Imperial craft, too late, tried to perform a split-S to escape, but the Wolfshead pilot had anticipated the move and was already firing at the empty space above the TIE, space that it quickly flew into. The New Republic flight leader grinned with satisfaction as he saw the bright's shields go out, its hull beginning to take a beating.

Abruptly, the enemy fighter straightened out, sailing serenely into space.

"Awww, his flight controls are busted. Isn't that just too bad," Drake remarked over the comm, just a little too smugly. He settled into position on the hapless Imperial's tail, thumbing his weapon selector over to proton torpedoes.

"Lead, watch out, Alpha One's behind you!" Sacart yelled, although the warning came too late. Green laserfire starting eating Drake's rear shields as the Imperial flight leader sideslipped in behind him, opening fire and twisting to stay with the Republic pilot that was trailing his wingman.

Gritting his teeth, Drake thumbed the trigger, pausing only to ensure that the torpedo got safely away on a streak of blue flame before wildly spinning his X-wing out of the Imperial's fire.

The torpedo sailed straight into the back of Alpha Three even as the Imperial pilot started his run into hyperspace. The heavy proton warhead ripped the already damaged fighter to shreds, forcing Alpha One to pull away to avoid being damaged by the fireball and wreckage.

Drake whooped over the comm.

"Alpha Three's down," he said unnecessarily, adjusting his shields and reinforcing them with energy from his lasers. "My shields aren't looking too healthy, though."

"Alpha Two's pulling away, Lead," Sacart's voice reported in response. "He's opened his engines wide up, and we just don't have the speed to catch him." Drake muttered something that his wingmates couldn't catch.

"The coward. Never mind, form on me and we'll take the leader."

"Seventeen."

"Two-three."

Drake pulled away as the two craft approached, slotting into a triangular formation.

"Well done, guys," he said with a nod. "Stay tight now, looks like Alpha One wants to come and play. Two-three, you see an opportunity for a missile shot, take it, okay? My shields aren't healthy, and by the looks of it, Seventeen's are non-existent."

"Roger, Lead." Razor's voice was cool and calm again.

"And I'm hanging in there, Lead," Sacart assured him.

"Okay, good," Drake replied, keeping an eye on the range to his target, Alpha One, as it raced downwards through four clicks. "Let's make this quick and clean, because the other Imp is even as we speak trying to come around and finish us," the Wolfshead flight leader continued. "When this guy gets close…say, just under a click, break in opposite directions, then spin around and toast him." Four clicks acknowledged the Arrebnacian's plan, and the tight Wolfshead formation, showing its fragile status in a series of scorch marks along three snubfighter hulls, angled directly for the lone Imperial TIE Advanced that was also streaking purposefully towards it.

At two and a half clicks the shooting started, ten red laser blasts lancing out every two seconds and being answered by four green ones. The Wolfshead pilots quickly switched their deflector shields to full front, and the groping green laser blasts harmlessly splashed off their shields. The TIE Advanced fired a concussion missile just as the range reached point nine clicks and Drake shouted, "Break!"

The Wolfshead formation scattered like startled gazelles, but the concussion missile looped around and came after Sacart's fighter, homing in on the desperately jinking X-wing with deadly accuracy.

"Lead, I've picked up a-" Sacart's voice dissolved into a crackle of static as the warhead clipped his port wing, exploding and taking the whole X-wing with it.

Drake's eyes closed briefly, and his fist clenched around the stick in anger.

"Stay focussed, Two-three," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's burn him."

Alpha One was flying an odd mixture of offensive and defensive flying now, and doing quite well at it, Drake noted sourly.

Well, what did you expect? A rookie performance? he asked himself with a scowl. A few of the combined A-wing and X-wing red laser blasts were finding their mark, but not many.

"He's just too damned good, Lead," Razor's voice said curtly. "Any tricks you know of that can-" She stopped talking with an abrupt shriek as the almost-forgotten Alpha Two suddenly appeared on her starboard beam, sending deadly laser blasts into the body of her small fighter, rocking it and reducing its shields to red lines before she could pull away. With a roar of determination and rage, Drake broke off his pursuit of Alpha One and pointed his nose directly at the oncoming Alpha Two, diverting energy from his shields to his lasers to give him full powered blasts. Thumbing his fire selector mode switch over to single fire, he let the X-wing's four laser cannons cycle through at an incredible speed, laying down a hail of fire which the TIE Advanced flew through undaunted, still firing precise quad bursts of its own. Drake's other hand flicked his shields back onto full front, hoping that he'd win this particular game of chicken.

So far, his hope didn't look like it was going to be fulfilled.

The TIE Advanced pilot bored in on the X-wing, still firing, and the X-wing flew ahead to meet the challenge. With a flash of inspiration, Drake hastily selected proton torpedoes and dumbfired, sending a torpedo towards the oncoming fighter. At half a click, the Imperial evidently didn't like his chances of shooting it down in time, rapidly breaking off.

Drake sighed noisily in relief and rebalanced his shields, only then noting with alarm that he didn't have any.

"Shields are down, Two-three," he said tersely, redirecting all of his stored laser energy into his shields to bring them into the red, at least.

"They're forming up for the kill, Lead," Razor's voice came back, sounding subdued at last.

"We're not finished, yet, Two-three," Drake smiled. He still had one or two tricks up his sleeve.


"They're good, but they're not that good," Raiven observed smugly to his flight leader. Vyper's reply was immediate.

"Don't you bet on it," he said dryly. Raiven grinned. Let Vyper think whatever he wanted. An X-wing and an A-wing, virtually without shields, against two TIE Avengers? he thought, unconsciously adopting the Imperial name for the craft he was flying. His own shields were in the yellow, but he doubted that Drake or Razor were going to be able to do much about that before they both got waxed. No wonder the Republic has such a hard time against the Avengers. Their fighters just aren't good enough.

"Close it up," Vyper ordered quietly. "Let's go in together."

"Copy that, One," the younger ex-Imperial responded, pulling his craft into tight formation off Vyper's starboard wing.

Sorry, Drake, but it looks like you lose. Raiven allowed himself a grin. Too bad.


Wolfshead Fourteen was at that moment trying to formulate a combat strategy in the ten seconds he had before the two racing flight groups got within mutual weapons range.

"Two-three, try and get a lock on Alpha Two," he said, making a snap decision. "I'll dumb fire a torpedo or two to distract Alpha One so that he can't lock on you."

"Affirmative, Lead," Razor answered him without question. Inside her cockpit, she licked her lips nervously. Weapons range in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

The laserfire started immediately, although this time Razor and Drake had to juke to avoid it, as their shields struggled to recharge. An intermittent beep filled Razor's cockpit as she strove to keep her reticle close to Alpha Two - Raiven's ship - while avoiding the green laser blasts that seemed to fill the space around her A-wing. Suddenly she heard the tell-tale warbling chirp of her in-flight computer telling her that someone was trying to acquire her for a missile lock. She opened her mouth to warn Drake, but shut it as a roar off her port side announced a proton torpedo launch. Drake's nose dipped slightly, then three seconds later another torpedo streaked away, followed a few seconds later by another.


Vyper's eyebrows raised slightly. Nice try, Fourteen, but that's not going to get you anywhere, he thought. Selecting his laser cannons, he switched to double fire and targeted the first torpedo, carefully lining up his targeting reticle before firing and destroying it. He almost smiled as he selected the next, watching out of the corner of his eye as Raiven accelerated ahead, sending a flurry of laser blasts to cover his flight leader as the latter methodically destroyed Drake's sluggish torpedoes.


"I've got a lock! Firing!" Razor announced, as Raiven's TIE Advanced pulled ahead of Vyper's to protect the latter. Likewise, Drake took energy from his lasers and gave it to his engines, giving him a burst of speed that carried him forward. He began firing his cannons at Raiven, as two concussion missiles, fired singly two seconds apart, flamed away from Razor's A-wing and angled for the rapidly approaching Imperial.


"You little…" Raiven breathed, then raised his voice sharply. "One, I've got incoming!" Vyper clicked twice in response, turning his attention away from the cloud of debris which was all that remained of Drake's third and final torpedo. Immediately he turned his fighter and began firing at Drake's, which flashed past at high speed and then curved around to try and get on Raiven's tail. Razor, on the other side of the melee, was also bringing her A-wing around - very quickly, Vyper noted with admiration - to finish what she'd tried to start with her two missiles. Keeping his attention on the X-wing, Vyper accelerated and closed the distance between himself and Fourteen's tail.


Raiven remained calm, grimacing slightly as more of Drake's fire poured into his shields, but methodically he selected the first of Razor's missiles and fired. The missile disintegrated, but at that moment his computer squealed, indicating that his rear shields were out. The young pilot's hand darted over to rebalance his shields before his hull could be badly damaged.

The second that took was all the remaining missile needed, and it smashed into the front of the TIE Advanced's cockpit, destroying its front shields and inflicting hull damage. Raiven cursed as he dove forward, channelling all his stored laser energy into his shields and rebalancing them again, then juking desperately as he flew totally defensive.


Drake swore violently to himself as his own rear shields collapsed under Vyper's fire.

"…your status…not…d…" Razor's voice crackled over the barely functioning comm. Drake didn't bother to reply, instead trying to dodge Vyper's attacks to avoid further hull damage. He glanced upward at Razor, who was now firing at Vyper and trying to get him off the Arrebnacian's tail, and then to his left at Raiven, who, having escaped Drake and Razor's attentions for a moment at least, seemed to be turning slightly to re-enter the fight.

No, you don't. Setting his lips in a firm line, Drake redirected all power to his engines, shooting away in a burst of speed as he juked to avoid Vyper's fire. The latter, startled, started to compensate, as Razor adjusted her own speed to keep up with him.


"He's pulled away from me, Two," Vyper's voice reported calmly. "Looks like he's after you, now…" Raiven clicked his acknowledgement and nodded.

Here we go.

He redirected just a touch of his precious shield energy into his lasers - just enough to destroy his erstwhile wingmate's fighter.


Vyper stopped firing at Drake as Razor moved into position on his tail. The X-wing was getting away too quickly, and it was time to attend to this A-wing before she was the death of him. He held his course steady for two more seconds, then quickly retarded the throttle to a third, spinning almost on the spot and then accelerating directly at Wolfshead Two-three.


"Lead, what the hell are you doing?" Razor asked quizzically over the comm. To her utter amazement, she saw Drake's S-foils closing.

"Are you on a death wish, sir?" she asked, anger creeping into her voice a little.

"Don't worry about us, Two-three," Drake answered her evenly, although his voice was punctuated by static. "Just concentrate on Vyper and get out alive. That's an order."

Razor scowled and was about to ask the young flight leader exactly how she was supposed to kill Vyper, who alone of the four fighters currently had a good shield status, but she was forced to roll out of some incoming laserfire instead.


Drake glared intently at Raiven's fighter as his S-foils closed.

Shouldn't be long now.

"Goodbye, mate," he whispered with a devilish grin, redirecting all of his slowly depleting laser energy into his shields.


Raiven's eyes narrowed as his gloved finger began to tighten on the trigger.

What the hell does he think he's-

"Oh, bugger." He tried to pull his TIE Advanced off course, away from the head-on bearing that he'd been following, as he suddenly realised what Drake was doing.

Too late.


Drake whooped fiercely as he made a slight, delicate adjustment on the stick, pulling his nose up slightly as Raiven finally began to turn.

"No way, you're too late," he growled, as the two craft collided.


Razor glanced down as she saw Drake's X-wing plough nose first into the underside of Raiven's TIE Advanced, cutting it in half. The explosion of Raiven's fighter quickly enveloped the X-wing and tore it into shards of flaming debris. Razor exhaled slowly.

Now it's just me.

She and Vyper were in a twisting, turning melee with neither one really getting the upper hand. The TIE Advanced and the A-wing were both in the hands of able pilots, and the two craft were evenly matched.

Razor gasped in surprise as a huge shape suddenly filled her view, unknowingly mirroring the sound that Vyper made in his own cockpit.

A Calamari Cruiser sailed into view, its gunners opening fire instantaneously. Before Vyper even knew what was happening, his shields had collapsed. Abandoning Razor, he turned and accelerated away at full speed, firing his last concussion missile.


Razor cringed at the computerised shriek that told her of an incoming missile. Without thought, her right hand reached over and pulled the hyperspace lever. Her A-wing slewed around and began its run into hyperspace.


Vyper watched angrily as the little A-wing began to pick up speed, outstripping his missile and streaking away, then disappearing into light speed. He cursed as another turbolaser blast shook his fighter, which was about to start its own run.

His anger switched to alarm as his fighter ground to a halt at another red blast. His engines and hyperdrive had both been taken out, and his fighter was a sitting duck.

I'm dead, was his last thought before the cruiser's gunners found their target and his fighter dissolved into fire, then blackness.


The simulator pods hissed open and Raiven beat Vyper out of his by a hair's breadth.

"What the hell was that?" the younger man demanded of the assembled spectators. His only reply was shaken heads, and he turned expectantly with hands on hips as Drake slowly climbed out of the simulator, his helmet under his arm.

"You don't know anything about that, do you?" he asked, his eyes blazing. Infuriatingly, Drake just smiled.

"About what?" he asked innocently.

"You know damned well what," Raiven countered hotly. "That cruiser showing up. Just what do you call that?"

"Where I'm from, I'd call that initiative and original thinking," Drake answered him coolly.

"And I'd call it cheating," Raiven growled, hardly noticing the smiles that were forming on some spectator's faces.

"How did you do it, anyway?" Vyper asked. He wasn't taking this all quite as seriously as Raiven, although the young man did have a funny, almost mischevious look in his eye, but still he had to admit that he was a bit miffed. Not to mention curious.

"It wasn't hard," Drake explained, playing to his audience a little now. "A little reprogramming of my own, plus I got Ledner and Arpin to help me. If I manually closed my S-foils, then the cruiser was programmed to come and render assistance. Which reminds me, Mike," he added with an impish grin, "I think you should beat some loyalty into that R2 unit of yours. I didn't even have to offer him a bribe. Giving you a hard time seemed satisfaction enough for him."

Raiven snorted.

"I think you're right," he agreed, "I might borrow a hydrospanner off Hanniuska at her earliest possible-"

"Now, now," Drake admonished him. "I can't let you do it. You see, he thought you might try something like that, and he made me promise him protection." At this Raiven laughed.

"You may have been clever enough to think of the little trick with the cruiser-" he began, when Drake interrupted.

"Ah ha! So that's it, is it? A little jealous, are we?" Raiven grinned and studiously ignored the tittering of the assembled spectators.

"Jealous? Of course not. Personally, I'd never try such an underhanded trick as that," he said archly. "I'd prefer to rely on flying skills, thank you very much." Drake nodded.

"I see. So that's how I managed to kill you, is it? Because you could only rely on those flying skills of yours?" Raiven's eyes glinted wickedly and he was about to retort when Foxfire stepped forward, wearing a smile of her own.

"Which reminds me, Lieutenant, is that how I can expect you to fly when you get in a tight spot? Going kamikaze?" she asked, in her most commanding officerial tone. Drake cleared his throat.

"Well, ma'am," he said stiffly, "you can expect that if a vital mission comes down to the wire like that, I'll selflessly sacrifice my fighter, my droid, and my life, heroically flinging myself against the odds in order to obtain vict-"

"Rubbish. 'Heroic', indeed!" Raiven scoffed with a chuckle, and several others joined in.

"Just because you'd tuck your TIE Advanced between your legs and run, Raiven, that's no reason to cast doubt on my courage or honour," Drake said with a sniff.

"Oh, knock it off, you two," Foxfire said with a laugh. "Drake, bear in mind I'm going to be watching your flying closely from now on - very closely." Drake opened his mouth to frame a reply, but Foxfire quickly turned to Razor.

"And to you, Razor, that was well done. You've taken on some great pilots from the squadron - and at the end of it all, you were the only one alive," she said, nudging Vyper, who pretended to be grumpy without really succeeding.

"Thankyou, ma'am," Razor acknowledged with a nod and a smile. "I couldn't have done it without the others, though." She glanced at Sacart and Cardinal, the other human pilots from her simulator team, and then finally at her exercise flight leader, Drake. The latter smiled brilliantly back at her and winked. Razor cleared her throat and averted her eyes slightly.

"Maybe so, but you held your own against some people who know their stuff," Foxfire insisted. "Let's go into the briefing room and we'll see just how things worked out and critique them," she finished, leading the way out.

Raiven and Drake walked out last, just behind Razor and Cardinal, who were discussing the mission before Cardinal had been killed.

"This ought to be interesting," the former Imperial murmured with a smug smile. "Wonder what they'll say about your little do-or-die maneuver?" Drake flashed him a cheeky grin.

"I don't really care," he answered smugly, "so long as it's someone other than you doing the debrief." Raiven chuckled and threw him a playful punch.

"Yeah? We'll see."

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