by Steve Miller
Essara's headset filled with beeps and whistles.
Enemy within sensor range , scrolled across her screen.
Essara made a quick check of the tactical display. Her control panel showed that enemy craft were turning from TFP-9 to engage her team. A single Corellian freighter floated immobile between the station and the enemy carrier, but there was no sign of the second freighter. Either the crew had successfully escaped or had already been killed by the raiders.
Echo Flight was more than capable of handling this engagement, and Essara was certain that the Naboo Police Cruisers would humble the Z-95s. Her scanner confirmed only that the enemy flew either basic Headhunters or Mark IIs, neither of which was as maneuverable or fast as the N-1 or the Police Cruiser. The Z-95s lacked shields strong enough to deflect the yield of the Naboo proton torpedoes, although the AF-3 model's heavily reinforced canopy would probably protect the enemy pilot. Conversely, it would take some very well placed shots or several Z-95s firing on a single Naboo starfighter to penetrate its shields.
The Naboo government and its shipyards invested as much time and money in the construction of a single starfighter as many other planetary governments invested in entire fighter squadrons. Both the Police Cruiser and the N-1s were dream fighters as far as Essara was concerned. Pilots who lacked experience were supported by astromech droids and superior sensor and targeting systems, while veterans such as she could avail themselves of the enhanced maneuverability provided by the finely calibrated engines.
With some annoyance, Essara found her thoughts drifting back to Dren. Not even the excitement generated by the N-1 was enough to keep him from looking to the stars and dreaming about mercenary life. Dren kept bringing up Agamar. What was Dren's obsession with that backwater corner of the Outer Rim? He had no family or friends there. The Agamar starfighters were flying scrap-heaps that couldn't match force with the slowest Headhunters, let alone the N-1s. Did he need money? Could it be that he was finding it hard to make ends meet? If so, Essara had seen no evidence of this.
Whenever Essara daydreamed about her cottage, Dren was right there with her. She also dreamed of a little girl--their child--playing with toy starfighters. If money was really at the root of his restlessness, that problem was easily solved. She had more than enough money for both of them, and she wasn't going to let something as silly as credits get between them. But she'd have to be careful about how she made that point. Fighter pilots, herself included, were stubborn and brimming with pride.
Target Acquired
A message from her astromech scrolled across the translation interface readout.
Theed Flight Control is deactivating the autopilot in five... four... three... two... one. You now have complete control of your starfighter, Bravo Seven.
Essara rechecked the status indicators. All systems were green, and the astromech droid had already allocated power in the way she preferred--shields at 95%, laser cannons at 101%, and sublight propulsion at 104%.
“Glad you decided to do things my way, Ell-one,” Essara said after muting her comlink. She and the droid had argued over power allocation before, during a particularly routine encounter that Essara could hardly remember.
It is ultimately your decision, Flight Leader.
Essara switched her comlink to wide broadcast. “Z-95 Headhunters, this is Flight Leader Essara Till of the Naboo Royal Space Fighter Corps. Deactivate your shields and return to your carrier, or you will be fired upon.”
The station's shields are gone. The enemy fighters received your broadcast, but they aren't responding.
The astromech droid wasn't completely accurate in its estimation. The Z-95s' response was silent, if not subtle: Turning away from the battered space station, they rolled, fell into formation, and accelerated toward the approaching Naboo starfighters. They weren't going to let this happen the easy way.
Essara switched her frequency back to the tight-beam channel she shared with Dren. “I want to take some of these low-lifes alive. Try to disable rather than destroy a couple, and I'll do the same.”
“What about Echo Flight?” he asked.
“You and I can go at this with some finesse. I'm not sure they can pick their shots as well.”
“I copy.”
“Bravo Seven out.” She switched to the frequency shared by all the Naboo starfighters and verified the Z-95s' approach vector. “Echo Flight, this is Bravo Seven. Shields at full power. Go to attack speed. Engage targets at will. Let your astromechs worry about any damage to your starfighters and focus on flying and gunnery. Whatever happens, stay with your wingman, and keep the bad guys off each other's tails.”
“Copy,” replied Echo Five. The rest of Essara's pilots checked in as she watched the fourteen green blips that represented her team converge with the eighteen red blips that represented the Z-95s. She drew a slow deep breath as she eased her fighter's throttle forward. Switching to the frequency she shared with Dren, she said, “Ell-one, lock on the fighter closest to me.”
Target acquired. He's returning the favor.
Dren matched her acceleration. Essara used her command readout to cycle through the telemetry on Echo Flight. They were all locking onto enemy fighters as well. So far, they were maintaining formation. Not bad for a bunch of rookies, she thought.
Quickly, she found herself staring down the boldest of the Z-95s. It was heading straight for her. The enemy starfighter opened fire, and the N-1 rocked slightly as the laser bolts impacted harmlessly on its shields.
Shields at 91 percent and recharging , Ell-one reported as Essara and her enemy streaked past one another. Essara put her fighter into a wingover barrel roll and put herself on her foe's tail with such ease that she found herself shaking her head. “Too simple,” she said. “We've got slow-witted pilots in basic Headhunters, Dren. They aren't even armed with missiles. Echo Flight could do this without us.”
Her tactical display was a kaleidoscope of green and red blips, and flashes of cannon fire ignited the black, starry sky.
In Part One, a battle for supremacy wages over the gentle world of Naboo. Brave pilots of the Naboo Security Force, led by Essara Till and Dren Melne, defend the Naboo system against the ruthless incursions of an unknown enemy. N-1 starfighters clash with wings of Z-95 Headhunters, igniting the starry sky...
And now, “The Starfighter Trap” continues...
Part Two
The Z-95 pilot weaved side to side in a frantic but futile attempt to get Essara off his tail. She carefully targeted the cowling that protected the Headhunter’s primary power generator and squeezed the cannon’s trigger. The Headhunter’s shields survived the first volley, so she fired again. The other pilot started whipping back and forth, trying to shake her. “Sorry, friend. You’re outgunned and outclassed.”
Essara fired again. This time, her lasers sliced into the cowling, cracking it open. Sparks trailed from the power generator within as the Headhunter’s pilot threw his craft into a spinning dive in one final attempt to shake his pursuer. Essara fired again, and the exposed generator burst into shrapnel that spun away from the fighter. The now-disabled Z-95 entered a wild tumble.
“That one’s going to be fun for the Space Rescue Corps,” Dren commented with a chuckle.
Essara reduced her speed slightly to take a close look at the Headhunter as she flew past it. The fighter was a solid orange color with no heraldry or other visible identification marks.
The pilot’s alive but unconscious, Ell-one informed her.
“Hey, Dren, any idea who these guys might be?”
“Echo Five to Flight Leader,” Essara heard before Dren responded. She switched comm frequencies.
“Bravo Seven here. Go ahead Echo Five.”
“We’ve got the bad guys on the run, Flight Leader. Seven kills with only Echo Three, Echo Eight, and Echo Eleven taking damage. The rest of the Headhunters are retreating toward the carrier. Should we pursue?”
“Hey!” replied Echo One, who had the shrill voice of a teen
aged girl. “I’m supposed to give the status report!”
“They teamed up on me,” Echo Eight said. “How was I supposed to take three at once when Kammie couldn’t hit even one?”
“I just got another one!” Echo Seven broke in. “You were right, Rhys! This is a piece of cake! Let’s get them!”
Essara scowled. “Echo One and Echo Two, fall into formation with Bravo Seven. I want the rest of you to prevent the other Z-95s from reaching that carrier. Stay out of range of its weapons, though. If any of them get away, so be it.”
“What about us?” Echo One asked.
“We’re going after the carrier. Ready proton torpedoes.”
“Yahoo!” Echo Two cried. “A cap ship! This is great!”
Dren’s N-1 Starfighter dropped into formation next to hers. “Looks like Echo Five is going to have competition for your job,” Dren said.
Essara nodded, smiling to herself. “This is not going to be easy, Echo One and Echo Two. Set your shields to maximum recharge, even if it means you have to reduce the recharge rate of your lasers. We’re going to suffer heavy fire as we’re going in. But keep your cool. Assume Attack Formation Zeta Nine.”
Echo One and Echo Two joined her and Dren in formation. Together they swung toward the slim profile of the carrier. “We’re going in at a 65-degree vector,” she said. “That should limit the number of cannons they can to bring to bear. Stay in formation.”
Torpedoes ready.
Suddenly, another wave of blips appeared on Essara’s tactical display: Sixteen additional Headhunters were coming in behind them, from the direction of Naboo.
“Flight Leader,” Echo One said, “my tactical computer is malfunctioning. A new bunch of Headhunters just appeared out of nowhere.”
“Mine too,” Echo Two said.
“That’s no malfunction,” Echo Nine commented. “We’ve got more incoming fighters.”
“I see them,” said Echo Five. “Where did they came from? Headhunters don’t have hyperdrives, do they?”
“Let them come to you, Echo Flight,” Essara said. Then another ship appeared on her tactical readout. To her surprise, it was another Hornet-class carrier. Well, at least the mystery of the Headhunters was solved, she thought. She asked the astromech, “Where did that second carrier come from?!”
It must be using baffled sublight drives and dampened power systems. Sensors didn’t detect it until it raised its shields.
“What sort of petty space pirates have access to baffled drives?” Essara muttered, surprised by the astromech’s analysis but realizing it was the only one that made sense.
Petty space pirates who aren’t petty space pirates.
A gravelly voice rose from the dark silence of space. “Naboo fighters, this is Captain Sorran of the carrier Velumina. Power down your ships and permit yourselves to be tractored onto one of our carriers. No harm will come to you. All we want are your starfighters.”
On the tight-beam link to Dren, Essara asked, “Who are they?”
“The Naboo don’t take direction from petty thieves and terrorists!” said Echo Five angrily.
“Captain Sorran, this is Bravo Flight Leader Essara Till. I suggest you recover your fighters and leave our territory at once. We will not be threatened.”
More hostile vessels appeared on Essara’s tactical readout: fifty small craft not even half the length of an N-1, launched by the first carrier. Her onboard computer did not recognize their configuration. “What did they just drop?”
Uncertain. The design does not match any configuration in my databanks.
Essara gasped as she watched the tiny ships accelerate. Within three seconds, they were traveling so fast that her scanners could not keep up with them. They blinked in and out of existence. To Dren, she said, “Have you ever seen anything so fast?!”
Her droid, however, was the one who responded, Based on their rapid acceleration, I conclude they’re piloted by droids. There isn’t room for a biological pilot with such an engine configuration.
“Echo Flight,” Essara said. “Those fighters are moving too fast to be effectively tracked. We’ll need to rely on good old-fashioned gunnery skill to take them out.”
“Surrender, Flight Leader,” Sorran commanded. “You and your pilots cannot match skill with our special fighter element. Do you really think a starfighter is worth dying for?”
Essara felt her temper flaring. “Echo One, Echo Two, Bravo Eight. Attack Formation Beta-Zero. We’ll take the fast-moving bogies. Echo Three through Echo Six, you deal with the Headhunters. The rest of you focus on those new fighters. Keep them in your sights and off each other’s tails. Don’t rely on your instrumentation.”
Then she heard Dren’s voice. “Remember that opportunity on Agamar I’ve been pressing you about? I didn’t want to make you choose like this, but this is your last chance, because my term of employment starts now.”
“Dren?” Essara looked to her left, just in time to see her wingman break formation, climbing sharply and spraying a barrage of laser fire. “Dren, what are you doing?”
“Flight Leader, we’re under attack!” shouted a panicked Echo Two. “I don’t know where—”
“It’s Dren!” Echo One cried shrilly. “Dren’s firing on us! What’s happening?”
“He’s taken out my shield generator! He—”
“What’s happening over there, Flight Leader?” Echo Five asked.
“Focus on the Headhunters, Echo Five!” Essara snapped. “Let us worry about the situation here.”
“Oh no!” Echo Eight cried. “Those new Headhunters are firing missiles at us!”
“Those are just concussion missiles,” Echo Six said. “We can shoot those down, no problem. Our shields can even take one or two of them.”
Essara banked left, watching the fast-moving fighters blipping in and out on her tactical display as her sensors attempted to keep up with them. Ten were heading for her and the two Echo fighters in her vicinity while the others were engaging the rest of Echo Flight. She tried to get a firing angle on Dren as he shot at Echo Two again.
Echo Two’s right nacelle burst into a deadly bloom of debris and shrapnel, and the Police Cruiser went spinning out of control. Echo One reacted with admirable speed, cutting sharply down and to the left in an effort to avoid her damaged wingman, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Echo Two’s pilot shrieked as the dome of his cockpit slammed into the fuselage of Echo One, destroying its astromech droid.
“Kerl?!” Echo One cried, swinging up and reentering Essara’s field of vision on her right.
Dren arced around the careening Echo Two, swinging fore over aft and turning on his fighter’s axis as he set an intercept course for Echo One. Essara maintained her pursuit, still trying to achieve that elusive firing angle.
Echo One continued to call for her wingman. “Kerl?! Kerl, come in! Are you okay?! Kerl?!”
“Dren!” Essara shouted over the tight-beam frequency. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t want to make either of us choose our loyalties like this,” he replied. “And I don’t want any more of these kids to die if it can be helped. Tell them to power down their starfighters, now.”
Essara cycled through her command readouts until the telemetry from Dren’s fighter came up. He had armed another pair of torpedoes and was locking his targeting scanner on Echo One. “Dren, please don’t.”
“Essara!” Echo One screamed as she started wild evasive maneuvers. “Dren’s locked onto me! Help me! Please, help me!”
“Listen to her,” Dren said. “We don’t belong here, Essara.”
“What are you talking about?” Essara watched as Dren’s target lock on Echo One was lost, reacquired, then lost again. Great flying, kid, she thought. Keep it up, and I’ll commend you when this is all over.
“Can’t you see that real soldiers like us shouldn’t be wasted on a useless world like this one?”
“Dren, I think there might be something wrong with the atmosphere in your coc
kpit. You’re talking crazy. Stop this before it’s too late.” Essara banked sharply and locked her lasers onto Dren’s ship. Ell-one issued a series of alarmed trills, to which she shouted, “Override the blasted FoF protocols! Haven’t you been paying attention back there?!”
The droid offered a contrite-sounding burble. When Essara fired her laser cannon, the droid did nothing to prevent it. Dren spun his fighter away from her line of fire. The blasts only grazed his shields, and he managed to keep Essara from dropping into the automatic kill-zone on his tail.
“You’ve seen the way some of them look at us,” Dren said. “They need us to protect them from the perils of the galaxy, but most of them would rather see us far away from Naboo. I’ve found a place where we will be appreciated for our skill, not looked down on.”
“Dren, you’re not making any sense,” Essara said. “When have the people in the Security Force not been treated as heroes? Stop attacking us. Help us deal with the real enemy.”
Essara’s astromech beeped urgently. Essara gritted her teeth and fought to gain a target lock on Dren. A pair of well-placed torpedoes should bring down his shields and disable his fighter without killing him.
Dren was playing with Echo One now, anticipating the young pilot’s every move. “I realized some time ago that there’s no place for me on Naboo. You know how they say you can never go home again? Well, I believe that now.”
“Flight Leader, help! I can’t keep doing this! I’m not good enough without the droid!”
“Oh no!” Echo Eight suddenly shouted. “Oh no!”
