Fleet Description
thumper
[a] coronasquadron dot com
Standard disclaimer: The
universe belongs to Lucasfilm. The
characters belong
to me, though they wish they didn’t. I won’t break anything.
This is not a complete story.
This is a small scene taken out of its overall context whose sole
purpose is to
describe the various ships in Crescent Star's fleet. It was
meant to be
incorporated into the story "Outside
Looking In", but I decided it would be best if I only
summarized this scene
in there and left this extended version as a separate document. This
information is needed for a couple other later stories that I'm also
working
on, and I wanted to make it easily available for people. It takes place
two
days after "Commencement", or four days after Darin joined the Coronas.
The first thing
Darin discovered out there on
patrol was that four days was not enough time to grow accustomed to the
sheer
enormity of the winged MC80 Mon Calamari Cruiser Crescent
Star. His training had mostly taken place on planets, and
in the last eighteen years he was used to being around transports and
freighters, not ships more than a kilometer in length and capable of
administering a small apocalypse. He felt very insignificant and
powerless in its
shadow. It was hard to believe that a behemoth like that could possibly
need
anything from a puny little starfighter.
Darin formed up with Quiver, and they started their escort patrol route, which began at the starboard side of the small grey fleet and continued along the entire perimeter. Darin looked back once over his shoulder while they got into position. Crescent Star was doing a poor job of growing smaller with distance.
Over the comm,
Darin heard Quiver sigh. “Patrol...” Quiver grumbled, clearly not
enthused in
the least. “I hope you’re fun to talk to, rookie: that’s the only way I
can
stay entertained on patrol, especially the escort ones where we just do
lap
after boring lap. It was bad the last few weeks when I was the
odd-pilot-out
numerically and I had to patrol with Snubber
and
Slurry. Slurry was always fun to talk to, but whenever Snubber
would find out we were chatting, we’d get an earful.”
Darin wasn’t sure how to
respond. It sounded like Quiver wanted him to participate in an
activity the XO
didn’t approve of.
Luckily Quiver didn’t seem to
notice Darin’s silence. He continued talking, launching into a story of
a
particularly memorable patrol conversation with Slurry that Lt. Weas had put an unfortunate and premature end
to, and then
he interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence and hit the ground
running
with a completely different topic. “Hey, rookie, have you been properly
introduced to the other ships in this fleet?”
After Darin mentally aligned
himself with Quiver’s new direction, he said, “No, not really. I
started
reading up on them with those datacards,
but–”
“Oh, that’s not an
introduction,” Quiver said dismissively. “Here, I’ll show you around
now while
we’re on patrol.”
Darin brightened. That was a
safe, duty-related conversational topic that would hopefully keep
Quiver
“entertained.” Besides, there was so much he needed to learn about
these ships
that anything would help. “Sure, I’d like that,” Darin said.
“Good. Come on.” Quiver
increased his throttle, which forced Darin to do the same. “You already
know Star a bit, seeing as how you live there
now, so we’ll save her for last.”
The first ship they came to was
a Bulk Cruiser. “This is Darkspeed,”
Quiver said as he slowed down again. “Her captain thinks she’s fast,
which
she’s not. She does have a knack for showing up at the right place at
the right
time, though, and Captain Selen is good at
his job.
“In contrast, I’ll now show you
a ship that has a knack for being in the wrong
place at the wrong time.” They passed
under Darkspeed,
and then Darin saw their new course was taking them directly toward a
Dreadnaught on the port side of the fleet. Quiver continued,
“That’s–um, wait,
I have to check my scope–right, that’s Stellar
Echo up ahead. No one ever calls her that, though; everyone calls
her Bacta Patch
or Bacta for short. That nickname even slipped into
official reports a couple of times by accident.”
“Why is she called that?” Darin
asked. “Is it the medical ship?”
Quiver laughed. “No, not quite.
You’ll see why when we get closer. Basically, this ship has seen more
than its
fair share of battles, and it’s essentially only being held together by
bacta patches.”
“It can’t be that bad if she’s
still flying,” Darin said skeptically, trying to sort the truth from
what had to
be another of Quiver’s exaggerations.
“Let me put it to you this way,
rookie,” Quiver replied. “The majority of crewmembers on that ship are
volunteers.”
“Volunteers?”
“Yeah. Because even the
higher-ups are afraid that the whole thing will come apart if someone
sneezes.
On a good day, I’d wager that no more than 75% of her systems are
operating at
even 75% capacity.”
By now the two pilots were
close enough for Darin to be able to make out the condition of the
Dreadnaught.
Maybe Quiver wasn’t exaggerating after all. There were gaping holes in
the
hull, carbon scoring everywhere, and just a general broken-down look
that had
settled over everything like a thick layer of dust.
Darin stared as they continued
to approach. “If that’s true, why are they using it?”
“Two reasons,” Quiver stated
matter-of-factly, as if he had been anticipating that very question.
“First,
it’s good for scaring people off. If for some reason the MC80 isn’t
enough to
deter potential hostiles, a quick scan showing that, hey, wait, there’s
a Dreadnaught over there too usually
is. It’s good for solo
missions for that reason, too, as long as you can trust it to not break
down on
the way. Do enemies know that probably only half of her weapons work?
No, not
until we engage. But they don’t need to know that for the implications
of her
appearance to do their job. It’s like carrying around a fake vibroblade. As long as it looks dangerous from a
distance,
people generally won’t risk getting closer to find out if it’s real.
“Second, and this is the most
important reason, is that we’re just that desperate.”
That statement did not inspire
a lot of confidence in Darin. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked warily.
“Nope,” Quiver said. “Wish I
was. The Rebellion is so undersupplied right now–remember your flightsuit?–that we need every single thing we
can get our
hands on, even if it’s only held together by bacta
patches. Sometimes it seems like most of our equipment is. I’m honestly
surprised you haven’t noticed this little situation of ours yet.”
“Well, I had...I just thought
it was isolated to the places where I trained.”
Quiver laughed again. “No, no,
no. Naďve little rookie, as CC would say. It’s everywhere, and
especially out
here. This fleet is a prime example. According to the people with more
colored
rank squares than me, this fleet has an important mission. We’re the
only
concentrated Rebel presence in this entire area of space. We have to
aid
allies, try to win others to our side, make strikes of opportunity and
keep our
ears open for any news on the Imps, all while staying out of sight–or
at least
out of reach–of the Empire to avoid getting blown up. We’re the Rebels’
only
mobile powerhouse for this area, and it’s more space than we can cover,
but we
have to anyway. To support us, those same people with the numerous
colored rank
squares have sent quote ‘all they can afford’ unquote, and so what do
we have?
An MC80, a dilapidated Dreadnaught, a small handful of escort craft,
and a
grand total of two starfighter squadrons
that aren’t
even at full strength.”
Darin couldn’t do anything but
absorb that for a moment. He’d thought they had their work cut out for
them
before, but now...
“Oh, by the way, you’ll need to
know this. Look up.”
Darin blinked and looked up.
They were passing under the midsection of Stellar
Echo, and directly above them was a huge, ugly wound on the
underside of
the ship. It was a testament to the ship’s builders that the ship
hadn’t been
torn apart from whatever blast had caused that.
“You know what part of the ship
that was?” asked Quiver.
The younger pilot looked more
closely, and then checked for other reference points on the ship. He
didn’t
like what his suspicions were telling him. “Looks like the hangar.”
“Yeah.
The hangar essentially doesn’t exist anymore, so keep that in mind in
an
emergency. They jury-rigged a few external docking ports for shuttles
and such,
so it’s possible to dock with them in the right kind of ship, but if
for some
reason Star isn’t around, don’t
expect to be able to land and go skipping merrily through the hangar
after a
fight.”
Chewing
on his bottom lip, Darin frowned and said, “All right.” He wasn’t sure
he
wanted to know the answer, but he ventured, “What caused that?”
Quiver
chuckled as they cleared the Dreadnaught and turned to port, toward its
aft.
“It depends on whom you ask. There are numerous stories, all completely
different, about Bacta’s
past and each of the major battle scars, and no one really knows which
is true.
Some claim Bacta
was an Imperial ship that was hijacked by Rebels at the very onset of
the
Rebellion. According to that story, the Rebels onboard planted some
explosives
in the hangar to prevent the resident TIEs
from
launching and engaging the Rebels’ measly starfighter
support that was dropping out of hyperspace to assist with the hijack.
Others
say ol’ Bacta
caught a torpedo or two while trying to fight an
Imperial blockade and provide a distraction so some blockade runners
could get
through and go down to the planet’s surface with medical supplies. I
even made
up my own story and started spreading it around to see if it sticks. If
anyone
ever asks you for the reason why the hangar is destroyed, swear to them
that
when Bacta
was in Imperial hands, a visiting transport’s munitions accidentally
detonated
in the hangar, okay?”
“Uh,
sure.” Darin doubted he could remember all of that, and he changed the
subject
before Quiver decided to test him. “What’s the next ship?”
“Huh?
Oh, that one. That’s
That
piqued Darin’s curiosity. He filed the information away in case he
eventually
became stir-crazy from being surrounded 24/5 by cold metal, like he
suspected
he would.
The
two X-wings were now approaching the aft end of the fleet, and a Corellian Corvette hung there in space ahead of
them.
“Finally, this is Windstar,”
Quiver told Darin. “She was salvaged from a scrap yard, but I’m told
most of
the problems were only cosmetic and we were basically insanely lucky to
stumble
upon her. The things keeping her from running were simple enough fixes
for our
mechanics. She runs beautifully. Her captain, Captain Vanaria,
claims he fought in the Clone Wars, but whenever anyone asks him for
details he
tells them to mind their own business.” Darin could almost hear Quiver
shrug. “Dunno.”
There
was only one ship remaining that had yet to be the recipient of
Quiver’s
narrative, and that was Crescent Star.
The two pilots continued on their regular patrol route as Quiver picked
up his
talk. “Star’s the last one, but like
I said before, you already know her a bit. Don’t be fooled by stories
you’ve
heard of other similar ships: each of these Mon Cal cruisers is a bit
different. Drives the repair technicians crazy. For instance, Star’s bow hangar is much smaller than
most others, and it’s mainly used by the people with the numerous
colored rank
squares when they happen to visit. Some people think Star’s
captain puts them in that hangar so they don’t have to deal
with all the repair work and the maniac starfighter
pilots in the main hangar, and because it’s closer to the nice
quarters; others
say it’s because Captain Tralkett doesn’t
want to
deal with those people either and wants them as far away from the
bridge as
possible. Think about it: aft dorsal bridge versus forward ventral
hangar?
Makes sense to me. At least this way there’s time to prepare while they
make
their way to the bridge.”
Darin
wondered what that hangar looked like. Maybe when he got off-duty he’d
take a
walk over there and see if he could look inside. He wanted to explore
the ship
a little anyway, if he could ever find enough time. It would be
interesting to
see how the forward hangar compared to the main hangar, a large ventral
one on
the aft end of the ship, farther back than he had learned most were on
Mon Cal
cruisers. There was no doubt that the main hangar was always full of
repair
work and pilots; would a hangar used predominately by visiting officers
be
nicer, with less of an operations feel to it?
“And
remember what I said about not applying other ships’ designs and
features to
this one?” Quiver asked, snapping Darin out of his musings. “Well, when
they
stuck the ventral hangar where they did, and don’t ask me why in the
galaxy
they did that, they had to move the primary sensor array forward. On
their
first test flight after refitting this ship with weapons they found out
that
the hangar caused a huge blind spot in their sensor readings, and the
blind
spot encompassed the area where friendly pilots would be making their
final
approach into the hangar and where enemy pilots would be shooting at
the ship’s
engines. Not a good combination. To compensate, they stuck some
additional
sensor equipment in the trailing edges of the wings. So, no more blind
spot, but
now you’ve got three sets of sensors trying to interface together, and
they
don’t always like to do that. Makes for some interesting days and job
security
for the sensor techs. So don’t expect there to be any wing hangars like
on some
other ships, because if you do, you’ll end up with a mouthful of wing
trailing
edge. You can be sure they’ll get some great sensor readings of you
while it
happens, though.”
“All
right. That’s good to know,” Darin replied. He focused on his sensors
for a
minute while they continued their patrol, trying to give all the
information a
chance to sink in and sort out. So the ventral hangar would always be
his
primary station, and maybe the small bow hangar could be used in an
emergency...
Quiver
punctured his thoughts again. “A typical MC80, if there is such a
thing, can
carry three squadrons and various shuttles. Star’s
hangars are a bit smaller because they traded the extra hangar space
for a
place to install another backup shield generator. Have I mentioned the
repair
techs go crazy here? Anyway, so that plus no wing hangars gives us
enough room
for only two squadrons and a couple more transports and shuttles than
normal.
Make sense?”
“Yeah,
I suppose so.” Less of a fighter screen but an increased chance of
surviving
direct assaults. Darin chewed on his lip a bit in thought. He was okay
with
anything that helped to ensure he still had a place to land after a
fight,
though less of a fighter screen put more pressure on the squadrons and
would
increase the fighters’ odds of being damaged or destroyed.
Life
in this fleet was going to be a little more complicated than he’d first
thought.
Revision
B
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