All characters are mine, but the Star Wars universe and all its toys belong to Lucasfilm. As always, many thanks go out to the awesome people who read this and/or help me out by giving me ideas, critiques, encouragement and an ear when I need to air my frustrations. I couldn’t do this without all of you.

“Coronas, we have contacts, incoming at 317 mark 25,” came a transmission over the Rebels’ tactical frequency.

“Copy, Starsmoke, contacts confirmed,” Mackin answered. “Just keep going; we’ll keep them off you.”

He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when another set of six red blips appeared, angling in from the other side. They now had TIE fighters coming right for them from about two o’clock and ten o’clock and the Rebels were all about to be caught in a crossfire. The TIEs’ weapons were powered up and they were moving at attack speed.

Mackin’s orders came instantly. “Starsmoke, cut to two-thirds until we’re engaged, then head straight between the groups and don’t look back.” He turned to the squadron frequency and said, “Five, stay with Starsmoke. Jump when she does. If your hyperdrive doesn’t work, we’ll get to you as soon as we can. Two, you’re my wing, we’re going port. Eight and Nine, starboard. Attack speed, get there quick, but be careful breaking out of this formation. Protect this transport. Go.”

The pilots eased away from each other, then quickly got into position as soon as they were clear. The wing pairs sped off, locking their S-foils in attack formation and turning on their transponders at the same time. Apparently a TIE squadron on alert had split up and was making the run at the Rebels, putting six TIEs on each side to pin the Rebels between them.

Starsmoke and Pellicer hung back a bit as the Rebel and Imperial starfighters closed the distance between each other. The X-wing pilots simultaneously fired a torpedo into the TIE formations, but the Imperials had been expecting that tactic, and the targeted fighters managed to get out of the way long enough for their squadmates to blow the torpedoes into oblivion, except for one in the portside group who couldn’t avoid the torpedo and became the first casualty. Darin silently cursed as the odds remained three-to-one, but then there was no more time to think. The TIEs had scattered a bit due to the incoming torpedoes but were quickly reforming, and just like that they were on top of the X-wings.

Weas and Darin stayed together as they flew into the midst of the Imperial fighters. They fired off rounds as quickly as they could, but Darin still only had three operational laser cannons, and Weas’s laser recharger had been damaged on Lokinha and was recharging his weapons more slowly than normal. Then a head-on run by two TIEs, one of which didn’t survive due to Weas’s shots, forced the pair to split up, and the Imperials herded them away from each other. No matter what Darin did, he couldn’t get back to Weas. He saw Weas trying to rejoin as well and having no better luck. They were isolated from each other and more vulnerable because of it.

Their scopes indicated that Starsmoke was making her run, and the Imperials obviously noticed as well. The closest TIE from each group split off and made a run at the transport approaching them. Curses and warnings filtered over the Coronas’ frequency, and the nearest pilots from each side, Weas and Mackin, immediately turned and went after the lone TIEs.

“Keep ‘em busy, Nine. Five, coming your way,” Weas said.

Darin remained engaged with the three starfighters on him. He expected the other one that Weas had been fighting to join those three and quickly overwhelm him and finish him off, but instead, that eyeball turned and settled neatly on Weas’s tail, shooting as it followed him to the transport.

“Eight, on your six!” Darin reported as he rolled out of the way of a laser blast and snap-fired at a TIE.

“Same on this side. I’m sandwiched in,” said Mackin. He continued chasing the TIE heading to Starsmoke from the shuttle’s port side and was in turn being chased by another eyeball.

Mackin saw Pellicer came underneath Starsmoke and then fly out in front of her just slightly. The leading TIEs would reach Starsmoke at about the same moment from opposite directions, almost 3 o’clock and 9 o’clock. “Eight, I’ll get yours from ahead,” Pellicer said. “Veer starboard then.”

“Copy, Five,” Weas answered. “Lead, I’ll get yours in return, to port.”

“Copy. Hope this works.”

Pellicer peeled out from his position in front of Starsmoke and flew a head-to-head with the TIE that Weas was pursuing. One brief exchange later, only a fireball remained where the TIE had been, though Pellicer’s shields had gotten hit, and Weas and Pellicer each rolled to starboard as they passed one another. Pellicer circled around to take his covering position over Starsmoke again. Weas immediately rolled back to go head-to-head with the oncoming TIE that Mackin was chasing. If all went correctly, he would perform the mirror image of that same maneuver with his commander. He cut across Starsmoke’s path; another half-second and he’d be set to start firing.

That TIE had seen his squadmate’s demise, though, and pulled up before Weas could properly line up for the head-to-head. Mackin still veered off to port, allowing Weas to pass him and adjust his aim for the surprised TIE on Mackin’s six. A laser salvo from Weas before the TIE pilot fully realized what was happening meant the TIE was no more.

Pellicer had gone after the one that pulled up, and Mackin angled back to his original course and dipped under Starsmoke. As Mack came up on the other side he met with the Imperial who had originally followed Weas in. Weas had reported that the TIE had reduced his aft shields to some horribly low percentage on the way, and that TIE was now firing at the Rebel transport a few times but hitting only its shields. As Mackin came into range, the eyeball pulled a sharp turn to avoid the X-wing and tried to get away, but Mackin pursued and connected with a couple of shots that sheared a wing off the TIE and caused the engines to explode a moment later.

Commander Mackin quickly assessed the situation. He was now well on the starboard side of Starsmoke, Weas’s actions had taken him to the port side and even as he watched, the red blip that Pellicer was chasing disappeared from his scope. Starsmoke was clear for now, but Ikoa and Darin still weren’t. “Swap sides, Eight?” he suggested. Without waiting for a response he throttled up toward Darin.

Darin, meanwhile, hadn’t been having good luck. In single-fire mode, the laser cannon that fired was activated in a clockwise rotation, and the pilot needed to adjust for the weapon’s specific position when aiming at something not at the cannons’ calibration distance. But it had taken Darin too long to always remember that his lower port cannon wasn’t working, so every time he had unthinkingly assumed the rotation was there and fired, subconsciously correcting his aim for the lower port weapon, he automatically missed. It was a waste of energy that he didn’t have to spare, and it just served to frustrate him. He tried focusing more mental energy on the indications on his heads-up display that he generally took for granted in normal situations.

He was also squeamish now about asking too much of his snubfighter for fear that the leftover damage from Lokinha would either worsen or cause something much worse to go wrong if pushed too much. This made him more conservative in his flying, and he wasn’t taking the same risks he normally would have, which in turn seemed to make him an easier target for the TIEs and also made hitting them much harder for him.

To top it all off, these Imperial pilots were fairly good and at three-to-one odds Darin had only managed to hit one of them, though that one was still in the fight. After a series of laser blasts hit his weak shields and one partially snuck through to impact his X-wing, Botch squawked at him in alarm. Darin managed to escape the TIEs for an instant and asked his astromech, “What? What is it?”

Botch hurriedly beeped again and Darin could tell it wasn’t good, but the droid’s text display in the cockpit was offline from the repair work. “Botch, I don’t know what you’re saying!” Darin said. He quickly checked his diagnostics to see what problem Botch was reporting, but the half of the diagnostics that were working all showed a green or yellow status like before. At the moment he couldn’t remember what systems weren’t currently shown, and the distraction of trying to think of what could be wrong allowed the three TIEs to come right up unnoticed on his tail.

He discovered that with a start and threw all his shields aft, then sent his fighter into a relative-downward corkscrew before leveling off for an instant and then inverting, but the TIEs all remained on him. Just like on Lokinha. As the black sky of space surrounded him, images from that night on Lokinha started flashing through his mind, making him feel like he was back there in that last dogfight as the “third pilot.” His heart raced even faster, and he tried in vain to calm down.

“Nine, I’ll be right there,” he heard Mackin say over the comm.

“Lead, I can’t do this again!” Darin answered in a frantic voice.

“Hold on, Nine, I’m coming,” Mackin said reassuringly. “Turn to 245 mark 30.”

Darin jerked his stick so hard in that direction that Botch blatted at him in annoyance for the abrupt course change. Sure enough, Mackin’s X-wing came into view and got into position behind the Imperials a moment later. Before they could properly respond, he destroyed one, causing the other two to peel off in different directions.

A transmission from Pellicer broke in. “Lead, we’re jumping.”

“Copy, Five, we’ll follow in a second. Nine, grab one. I’ll get the other.”

It took Darin a second, but he finally pulled back on his stick and chose one to go after. He almost had the TIE in his sights when Botch started urgently whistling again like before.

Darin decided to deal with the TIE first before worrying about what Botch was saying. He couldn’t afford to get distracted again. “Quiet, Botch, just a second,” he said. He lined the TIE up in his sights, and then suddenly all his weapons systems went dead. Targeting, weapons controls, and everything directly associated with them immediately went offline.

“What? Botch, my weapons are gone!”

Botch beeped again, but this time it was a specific series of beeps in a specific tone that the pilot had heard all too often, and Darin already knew its translation: his astromech clearly muttered, I know.

“Lead, my weapons controls are frozen. I don’t know what’s going on!” Darin said.

“Copy. Get cle–” Mackin’s order was cut off as the TIE that Darin was chasing and obviously was not firing at turned and settled on Mackin’s tail. The commander instantly gave that situation his full attention and jinked and juked to avoid the TIE’s expert shots.

With his short-range sensors unavailable again now that Pellicer had left, Darin anxiously looked out his windows to see who was available to assist. Ikoa and Weas had just destroyed their last TIE and were turning to come help him and Mackin, but they wouldn’t arrive in time. Starsmoke and Pellicer had gone. Mackin put two well-placed shots into the hull of the fighter he was trailing and blew through the debris, but the final TIE remained hot on his tail, sending off round after round at him. Darin was the only one who could do anything.

“Botch, get me weapons back!” he ordered as he flew after the TIE.

Botch adamantly beeped a negative.

“Fine, fine, then at least give me torpedo targeting!” When Botch again refused, Darin snapped, “I won’t fire, just give me targeting!”

With a stern beep to warn the pilot to keep his word, Botch put the proton torpedo targeting system back online, and immediately Darin aimed at the TIE. He waited as the targeting warble got stronger and stronger and then went steady, indicating a torpedo lock.

Darin grinned in relief when he saw the TIE pull up and twist away, trying to break the lock. The lone Imperial must have noticed the other two X-wings coming his way then, and he began retreating toward the planet. Darin broke the torpedo lock, and Botch immediately took the system offline again.

“Lead, should we follow?” Weas asked.

“No, let him go,” Mackin said. “Let’s just get out of here before more show up. Sensors confirm that Starsmoke and Five jumped, so hopefully Five’s hyperdrive cooperated again and he’ll be waiting for us on the flip side. Everyone make your calculations and jump.”

Darin lined up on his vector with the others and waited until Botch indicated that the coordinates were input and everything was set. He accelerated with everyone else and then pulled the hyperdrive lever.

On the first leg of the journey and once he had settled down enough to think coherently, Darin tried to figure out what had gone wrong during the dogfight by asking Botch only yes-and-no questions, with the droid beeping once for “yes” and twice for “no,” but he didn’t get very far. He gave up on that just as the first jump was ending.

There was already a flurry of activity in the hangar when the four remaining Corona pilots arrived. From what it looked like, an emergency medical team was preparing to storm Starsmoke as soon as its gear touched the deck, and ground support personnel were waiting more patiently behind them. Pellicer had set down and was talking to the left-behind Corona pilots from up in his cockpit when Mackin and the others began to land.

After carefully landing atop the servicing jacks, Darin powered down his X-wing, left his helmet and gloves beside his heads-up display and climbed out. It was early onboard Star, and Darin knew Quiver wouldn’t normally be awake at this time but there he was, waiting for Darin at the bottom of the ladder.

Once Darin reached the deck, Quiver draped an arm across his wingman’s shoulders and began pulling him toward the exit. “Come on, you’re buying.”

“Hey!” Darin laughed as he stopped and shook off Quiver’s arm. Until then Thumper hadn’t realized how much he’d truly missed Quiver lately. “Is that any way to say hello? And why am I the one who’s buying?”

“Because you’re the rookie. And because you scared me half to death when all the medical people ran up to the transport and you hadn’t landed yet. And because I don’t see my promised souvenir anywhere. But you’re right, a better way to say hello would probably be more like, ‘What in the galaxy happened to you?’” Quiver dropped his voice and added, “With that big bruise on your face, you look like Trainneer did after I explained things to him.”

“What happened? Why don’t we ask Scoop!” Darin increased his volume with each word and then smirked when Pellicer turned around to see what the commotion was about. Darin casually rubbed the bruise on his face, and when Quiver began looking back and forth between the two of them in confusion, Darin saw Pellicer mouth the words, “You are dead.”

Darin laughed again and said to Quiver, “It’s way too early for drinks.”

“We can get breakfast.”

“I want to get cleaned up.”

“You can get cleaned up after. We can get breakfast now.”

Darin chuckled. At least Quiver’s appetite was back. “All right, fine, just give me a second, okay?” Quiver nodded and went to greet the others while Darin walked over to where Botch was being placed on the deck after being taken out of the snubfighter. Thumper kneeled down beside the astromech and said, “Okay, now, please tell me what was going on.”

His brow furrowed as he read the explanation on the white-and-green R5 unit’s small text display. According to the droid, the last hit on the fighter had damaged the main power line to his laser cannons and torpedo launchers, and trying to fire any of the weapons would have overloaded the power and weapons systems and had a catastrophic effect. Darin nodded distractedly as the droid finished, unnerved at how close he’d come to being killed without even knowing it. “Thanks, Botch,” he said quietly as he stood up, still lost in thought. “I owe you one.” Botch beeped contentedly in agreement with that statement and then rolled away.

Mackin walked up to Darin and said, “Don’t wander too far. De–”

He was interrupted when Quiver exclaimed from over by his own X-wing where he was talking to his droid, “What?! Sonic, what do you mean you like Ikoa’s flying better than mine? Traitor!”

Mackin raised both his eyebrows and looked back at Darin. “Well,” he said. “Sounds like Quiver’s doing a little better.”

“Yes, sir, it does,” Darin agreed.

“Anyway, as I was saying, don’t wander off too far. Debriefing in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Darin answered, then he walked over to Quiver and tried to concentrate on his relief at being back instead of those depressing what-if thoughts. “Hear that? If you’re done questioning Sonic’s loyalty, I only have fifteen minutes, so we’d better get a bite to eat now while I still can.”

“All right, Niner,” Quiver replied. “And wait ‘til I tell you what the Quakes did while you were gone. I might win some money this morning because of it, too.” Then Quiver lowered his voice. “And later on when you have some time, I’d like to talk to you about...stuff. Actual talking this time, not datapads thrown at you.”

“Sure. Sure, no problem,” Darin replied. He was certain that would help Quiver feel better, and he was relieved Quiver was at last willing to take that first step.

Quiver rounded up a few others to come with, including Slurry, Pellicer and Ikoa, and within a minute the small group of Coronas was on its way to the mess hall. Quiver draped his arm over Darin’s shoulders again on the way out of the hangar, and this time Darin didn’t shake it off.

“Thumper. Stop.” Mackin looked at his subordinate plainly. “We’ll manage. I know you did what you believed was right, and in this circumstance I think you were right as well.”

“But sir, Halon sure didn’t. What if Colonel Trainneer and Major Linnme agree with him?”

Mackin sighed. He doubted that Darin normally would have been concerned about what other people thought of his actions in this kind of situation–he’d do the same thing whether he was praised or punished. However, now he seemed skittish about how Trainneer and Linnme would react and how they would see the situation. Mackin didn’t like the hold those two had over his pilots now because of that.

“It’s a muddy situation, Thumper, and one that could go either way. If Colonel Trainneer or Major Linnme don’t like it, I’ll deal with it. I won’t let them do anything to this squadron, especially over an issue such as this.”

Darin gave a small nod, and then Mackin’s comlink beeped. “Hold on one second, Darin.” Mackin answered the comlink, and they both heard Major Linnme’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Commander Mackin, please report to my office.”

“Yes, sir. Can I have a few minutes to finish up this debriefing?”

There was a slight pause, and then Linnme asked, “Which of your pilots are you debriefing right now?”

Mackin was puzzled at the question, but he answered, “Flight Officer Stanic, sir.”

“Good, good. Then bring him too. I want both of you here immediately.” The transmission ended.

“He wants to talk to me?” asked Darin, looking nervous. “Sir, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to get the squadron into trouble–”

The two pilots walked down the corridors in silence, and after they reported to Major Linnme he put them at ease. A quick glance around the room showed Darin that Halon and Trainneer were also present. That didn’t improve the situation.

Linnme’s voice was deliberate. “I just got some information regarding the behavior of your pilot here, Commander.”

“What information is that, sir?” Mackin asked neutrally.

Halon jumped in. “He’s reckless! He endangered my life and the success of the entire mission. He was uncooperative, and Gundark told me he used a comlink after I specifically told him not to countless times!”

Linnme looked at Darin. “Is this true, Flight Officer?”

Darin took a second to control his voice and his words before he retaliated with something he’d regret. “I did use a comlink to call for help, sir.”

“After he told you not to?”

“Yes, sir, but I didn’t do it until after he left. I gave no detailed information over the line, and the line was a secure mission frequency, sir.”

“The signal itself was the problem!” said Halon. “Gundark traced it to find your location. I’m sure that’s how the Imperials found you there as well!”

Darin really wanted to ask what the point was of having secure emergency frequencies assigned to the mission then, but he kept his mouth shut and said nothing. He kept his gaze focused on a small blemish on the wall behind Major Linnme.

Mackin stepped in and addressed Linnme. “Major, admittedly there was some–disagreement–over the course of action to take in Bertel, but in his debriefing Flight Officer Stanic said that he did follow Halon’s instructions to remain there and remain quiet when they first arrived in the hiding place.”

“Only after quite a long argument about it!” Halon angrily turned to Linnme. “Don’t you train your people to just shut up and do what they’re told? He could have ruined everything and almost did! You need to do something about him before he succeeds in ruining everything next time and people end up dying because of it.”

Linnme glared at Halon. “That is quite enough, Lieutenant!”

Now Darin’s nervousness was fading, and instead he was getting more irate at Halon’s words. He knew the two of them had started off on the wrong foot, but now that same foot just seemed to be beating him down and kicking him relentlessly. This is what he got for trying to save Troy’s life? This was so unfair. How come he was going to end up losing for doing the right thing? Halon was the one who’d messed things up, tied Darin’s hands and backed him into a corner, but the Intel operative was making it sound like Darin was the problem. Thumper honestly didn’t know how he managed to suppress his impulse to blurt out exactly how wrong Halon was and exactly how unfair he thought this treatment was; the only reason he could pin down later was the fear of the behavior probation hanging over the Coronas’ heads.

At the same time, Mackin’s previously neutral expression was growing more defensive, and the look in his dark blue eyes was growing more intense. “But nothing was ‘ruined.’ Major, this ultimately had no impact on the overall success of the mission. By all my accounts, all of my pilots did what they were trained to do, and in my opinion, this specific situation was a judgement call. I do not believe that Flight Officer Stanic did anything wrong by arguing his concerns, especially since they were concerns about the life of a teammate. One of your people, might I add, sir,” he said, looking at Trainneer and obviously hoping for some support.

He got none. “If it was just a judgement call, and if that was all he did, you may have been correct, Commander,” Trainneer replied. “But as it is, there was an order given by the senior officer present which no longer made it just a judgement call. Once Stanic was ordered to stay off the comms then he should have done so, and he also should have tried to escape with Halon when Halon told him to. He could have been more cooperative as well and worked with Halon to find another solution to the problem instead of working against him.

“Now, I imagine this young officer is a fairly accurate representation of the rest of your pilots, since the younger ones tend to follow the examples they’re shown daily. If nothing else, this whole incident proves that your pilots are still inherently just troublemakers who can’t even behave properly on only one mission.”

Mackin looked like he’d just been personally insulted and opened his mouth to protest, but Trainneer cut him short as he continued. “There’s no room in the Rebellion for people who can’t be counted on to act appropriately, and especially for whole squadrons of people like that. And the fact that Stanic did this even when he knew the consequences tells me that he has absolutely no regard for the rules.”

“He was trying to save someone’s life,” Mackin said in a low voice. “How much more ‘appropriately’ do you want him to act? Sir. And because he did all this even when he knew the consequences, shouldn’t that show how strongly he felt about trying to save his teammate? Flight Officer Stanic was put into a situation with no good options, and he took the one that he believed would best help his teammate and team leader based on the information he had at the time. Going in, we were ordered to be ‘team players.’ We were.”

Darin was getting more resentful, and his nervousness was beginning to return at the same time. It was obvious to him that Mackin was angry with Trainneer and Halon, and while Darin appreciated his commander sticking up for him, he didn’t think that the Coronas’ current standing would give Mack the political backing necessary to win if Linnme decided to fight. If the Coronas clashed head-on with someone–anyone–right now, they would lose because of their reputation and because of everything that had happened to give them this handicap. But if something wasn’t done to fix this, the Coronas would be split up. Darin could feel it. He had to think of a low-key, nonconfrontational way to defuse the situation, maybe compromise a little to allow them to stay together. He knew what he wanted out of a compromise, but he wasn’t sure what Linnme wanted that Darin could offer.

Linnme didn’t look happy. “Everyone, that’s enough. I’ll review the reports, and we’ll sort through this more once things settle down, though it’s obvious something will have to be done. Someone is at fault here, and the mission could have been jeopardized because of it. Colonel, I’d like to discuss some other things about the mission with you if you have some time. Everyone else is dismissed.”

Darin saw an opening and desperately grabbed at it. He hesitantly spoke up even as he scrambled to finish mentally tying his half-baked plan together. “A moment of your time, please, sir?”

Major Linnme raised his eyebrows at the pilot and then said, “Very well, Flight Officer. Colonel, will you please give us a minute?”

Mackin gave his pilot a questioning look as he left; Trainneer silently followed, and Halon brushed past Darin in a huff, pausing just long enough to secretly throw the pilot a glare that warned him he’d better not be going behind Halon’s back right now. Once only Linnme and Darin remained in the office, the major turned to him. “Yes, Flight Officer?”

Darin really didn’t want to do this, but everything looked like it was going to come down to his word against Halon’s about who messed up in Bertel, and he strongly suspected that his own word because of his low rank and the added penalty of being a Corona would be almost worthless in Linnme’s eyes next to the word of a “valuable” Intelligence operative like Halon. Darin was going to lose this, which meant that he ruined their probation and everyone would be punished for it. He couldn’t let that happen, and this was the only way he could think of to fix it or at least lessen the overall consequences.

He took a deep breath, swallowed as much of his pride as he could and gave Linnme what he thought the major wanted in the hopes of compromising. “Sir, I know my behavior was unacceptable. I realize I did exactly what Halon told me not to in Bertel, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I just want to ensure that I alone am held accountable for my decisions.” –Though I did nothing wrong, he added silently.

The major narrowed his eyes a bit. “Are you suggesting that I would be unfair in my review and decision?”

Darin shrank back a little inside but still emphasized his desired part of the deal. “No, Major. I just realize, sir, that we were on a probation of sorts on this mission, but those were solely my own decisions and actions, and I hope they do not reflect unfavorably on the squadron as a whole.” –Even though the ones who know what happened agree that staying with Lt. Troy and doing what I did was the right thing to do, and that Halon was wrong. Ikoa even said I was brave, though I sure didn’t feel brave at the time. I still don’t. “It was me who did this, not them. I accept the consequences of what I did and will take whatever punishment is appropriate.”

“So let me get this straight,” Linnme said carefully. “You’re saying you and you alone are at fault here?”

“Yes, sir. I was wrong.” –in thinking that doing the right thing was actually the right thing to do.

“And you’ll willingly accept the punishment for your actions?”

“Yes, sir.” –As long as you leave the others out of this. Now you can blame me and me alone. You can pin the failure on someone, which is what you want, isn’t it? Some no-name to quietly take the fall for this whole mess in Bertel without having to go through all the reports and arguments and reviews and everything?

Linnme studied him for a moment, then said at last, “I know enough to know that you just told me only what I want to hear, Flight Officer Stanic.”

His correct observation threw Darin. “Sir?”

“I was watching you at times during the discussion with the others, and it was readily apparent that you believed you were right in this case, or at least you disagreed with what Halon was saying. Why did you start lying now by saying you think you were wrong?”

Darin saw everything starting to backfire on him. Just like the incorrectly placed charge on their speeder in the Imperials’ receiving dock in Bertel, what was supposed to be something so small and simple and controlled was blowing up into something unexpected and much more damaging. Damn these stupid impulses of his. He was going to end up just getting them all in more trouble, and he would have given anything to have been a better actor right then. Blast, he hated acting. Linnme obviously could see through Darin’s words, so the pilot had no choice but to tell the truth. His face grew hot while dread began to eat his stomach. Now he was glad he hadn’t had enough time to eat a big breakfast before his debriefing. “Because, sir, I don’t want my squadmates to end up being punished for a decision, right or wrong, that I made on my own.”

The major leaned back a bit. “Flight Officer, before this mission began, were you aware of the so-called ‘probation’ and of the importance of cooperating fully with your superiors?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet from your earlier admission, you still acted against orders anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently?”

Darin swallowed hard but had to answer truthfully. “Fundamentally, nothing, sir. I did what I did for a reason, and that reason would not change. Even if I get in trouble for this, I’m not sorry for doing what I could to help Lieutenant Troy. I’d do it all the same, because aside from going against Halon’s orders right away and contacting Group One as soon as we got into hiding like I wanted to, I don’t know what I could have done differently to change it for the better.”

Linnme raised an eyebrow. “And just out of curiosity, hypothetically, if I were to tell you without a doubt that your actions would certainly cause your squadron to get split up, then what would you do differently if you could do it all again?”

Darin had to fight off a sudden flash of lightheadedness before he could bring himself to say, “Again, sir, nothing. I’d do it all the same.” As horrible as that prospect was, Darin knew he would have been able to deal with that better than facing the fact that he’d passively allowed someone to die.

Linnme just looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face and nodded slowly. “Dismissed, Flight Officer,” he said evenly.

Darin saluted, about-faced and made a controlled retreat from the room. He saluted as he walked past Trainneer on the lieutenant colonel’s way into the room, then walked dejectedly down the corridor. Rounding a corner, both he and Mackin jumped as he suddenly came across the commander standing there.

They relaxed after the start, and Darin asked, “Sir? What are you doing here?”

“Waiting out of sight.” Mackin smiled a bit, and they started walking back to their area of the ship. “So what was that all about in there?”

Darin sighed miserably. Now he’d have to tell his commander–who was as mentally and physically exhausted after this week as he was, if not more so–how his wonderfully noble intentions had just made things even worse.

Mack was going to kill him.

Meanwhile, Major Linnme looked up as Trainneer entered his office after Darin left. Linnme leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “I just don’t understand that squadron. First they act like they can get away with anything, then they take the blame for something they don’t think they’ve done wrong.”

Sitting down, Trainneer waved his hand dismissively. “They’re unpredictable. A liability.”

“So is Halon, if we go that route, sir.” Linnme now leaned forward as he said, “He’s too excitable. During the mission planning, he never mentioned any potential problems in using the comms, so what changed? From what he’s said, I’m not entirely convinced that he was correct in his actions on Bertel and that the communication systems were really that dangerous for short-term use. The whole time he was talking in here he made me wonder what the real motivations for his actions were and what really happened between those two. If I may be blunt, sir, I think when Halon’s cover was blown he just got scared and became too concerned with escaping with his life to think anything else through.”

“I have to believe Halon’s report in this case,” Trainneer said. “I think it’s pretty straightforward: Stanic wasn’t interested in cooperating and made things harder on Halon than they should have been. The Coronas know their squadron is on the hook and will probably skew things in order to put themselves in a more favorable light or at least get the benefit of the doubt. Halon, on the other hand, is a professional with no such concerns, and he knows his job well.”

Linnme furrowed his brow. “He may know his job well, but how professional is he really? Let me ask you this, Colonel: one of them was seemingly trying to do nothing but assign blame; the other just offered to accept the blame even though he feels it’s misplaced. Which, to you, seems more–I don’t know, mature? It at least leads me to think that there’s more to this than we’re seeing here.

“Besides, I feel that we do have to make some allowances, sir. Those pilots are not commandos and were in beyond their training, though from initial reports they seemed to handle themselves adequately down there for the most part.”

Trainneer grudgingly agreed, though he did add, “Some of those pilots are actually competent individuals inside their own element, but it’s a shame that they’re so undisciplined and unorthodox. They might have been good choices to work with on Special Forces missions, but SpecOps is no place for half-baked ideas and crazy plans. These missions require a well-oiled machine to succeed, not one cobbled haphazardly together out of spare parts like Corona Squadron is.”

A hint of amusement came into Linnme’s eyes, though he kept his voice serious as he said, “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“Good. Now let’s get started on the rest of the post-mission details.”

They got to work, though Linnme was a little distracted at first. He kept wondering what was so blasted special about that squadron that would cause Stanic to do what he just did. Had he done it on his own, or had Mackin put him up to it to keep the squadron from getting in more trouble? But even if he’d been told to do it, Stanic still agreed to it for some reason. Depending on the circumstances and the mission’s outcome, the punishment for something like this could be severe, so by accepting the blame Stanic was risking a lot for the squadron. But regardless of whether he had been told to take one for the team or he’d decided to do it on his own, there was some connection, some hidden ties with all of those pilots–not just Mackin– that Linnme hadn’t seen before and couldn’t quite pin down even now. He began to really wonder what made the Coronas tick.

A short time later, Linnme privately decided to at least give the Coronas a second chance, unless something appeared in one of those forthcoming reports that would require him to change his mind. Somehow, though, he didn’t think it would.

Ever since he had told Mackin what he had tried to do in Linnme’s office, Darin had attempted to steer clear of the commander. Mackin’s reaction to the explanation at the time hadn’t consisted of any words, but it didn’t need to: Mack had heaved such a bone-weary sigh that it confirmed beyond the shadow of a doubt just how badly Darin had messed things up. He didn’t know what had happened since then between the three officers regarding his little spat with Halon in Bertel, but he’d been constantly expecting the hammer to fall on him at any moment. Darin figured it could be in the form of personal punishment from Linnme, a more general punishment that would split up the squadron, or a personal punishment from Mackin for his misguided heroics in trying to deal with the situation on his own and causing more headaches for the commander at a very bad time.

And now here he was, in the squadron’s regular afternoon briefing the day after they’d gotten back from the Aridus mission, fighting to stay awake with all of the internal and external forces conspiring together to utterly exhaust him. He’d missed whatever Mackin had just been saying; he’d have to ask Quiver about it afterward.

The Coronas’ commander outlined the patrol schedule for the next few days and how they were going to work with the Quakes to try to cover it with only a few X-wings that were still in repair. Darin felt his eyelids starting to droop again.

When Mackin finished that topic, he said, “One more thing before you all head out.” Good, the briefing was almost over. Then Mackin shifted his voice into command mode and said, “Flight Officer Stanic, front and center.”

That woke Darin up. His eyes snapped open again, and he froze. Here it comes. Damn it. Mackin wore a set expression as Darin took a deep breath and fought to hide a grimace while he stood and walked to the front of the room just fast enough to not get reprimanded for dawdling. The other Coronas watched him as he walked, curious and confused about what was going to happen. Darin didn’t meet any of their eyes, and he hunched down a bit.

Darin finally came before Mackin, came to attention and gave the commander a crisp salute. “Flight Officer Stanic reporting as ordered, sir.”

Mackin returned the salute. “I want you to face the squadron for this, Flight Officer,” he continued in his no-nonsense tone of voice. “About face.”

The mask hiding the young pilot’s fear cracked just a little at that command, and then he managed to get it back in place as he about-faced and stood stock-still at attention. No conscious effort could stop the color starting to flush Darin’s cheeks, though. Now all of his squadmates were going to know how badly he’d screwed up both in Bertel and afterward and how that mistake might affect them too. They’d probably be sorry he ever joined the squadron.

Mack stood beside him, paused for a moment and then sternly said to Darin, “As you know, Flight Officer, we recently got back from a mission that was hard on all of us. You had a large role in that mission, a role that was not helped by extremely difficult circumstances surrounding it. And your behavior during that time was–well, something else. Even our Special Forces compatriots couldn’t believe that any fighter pilot would ever behave that way.”

Darin’s only outward reactions were a hard swallow and a blink or two when a point was driven home. He felt his face getting redder as well. This was proving to be worse than he had expected.

Mack paused for a longer time before continuing. “I wanted the whole squadron to see and hear this, so consider yourself to be an example for the rest.” Another blink.

The commander now lightened his voice considerably, though the tone remained serious. “Like I said, we recently got back from a hard mission. I fully believe that that statement wouldn’t be true if it weren’t for your actions and courage, Flight Officer Stanic, and as such, every pilot here, including myself, owes you his or her life.”

He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it as the flickers of fear and dread on Darin’s face turned into flickers of utter bewilderment. Mackin smiled as he said, “In recognition of your brave, selfless actions in putting your life on the line as the ‘third pilot’ to give all of your squadmates a chance to escape from Lokinha, I hereby award you the Corellian Cross.” Darin heard some soft, impressed murmurings from the other pilots as Mackin stepped in front of him and pinned the medal to his uniform. Darin was standing even stiffer than before, and his eyes were still wide, though no longer from fear. Once the medal was in place Mackin added more softly, “I also give you my personal thanks for the opportunity to see my family again and also to have this ceremony in front of all your squadmates, who are alive and healthy and just as energetic as ever.” He stepped back and saluted.

Darin couldn’t do anything for a moment, then he blinked and quickly brought his arm up in a salute as well. His face was bright red now.

Mackin and Darin ended the salutes just when the other Coronas started to applaud. With a grin that bordered on mischievous, Mackin patted Darin on the shoulder and said, “Congratulations, Darin. You deserve this. Now if you want to go back to your seat, I’m all done embarrassing you for the time being.”

Darin bit his bottom lip, then softly said, “Thank you, sir,” before retreating to his seat.

He was only halfway there when Quiver’s voice rang out above the applause: “Drinks are on Darin!”

“Go have some fun, everyone,” Mackin said. “We’re done here for now.” The pilots cheered again, and they all went over to see Darin’s medal. Darin was still trying to wrap his mind around the situation’s reversal while he absently thanked all those who were congratulating him.

A minute later the Coronas, led by Quiver, began herding him toward the door for the promised celebratory drinks. Before they all left, Darin stole a look back at the front of the room. Commander Mackin was just standing there and smiling as he watched the group go. Maybe it was just Darin’s imagination, but Mackin no longer appeared anywhere near as tired from these last few weeks as he had at the beginning of the briefing.

He was glad Mackin had excused him from his duties to attend the memorial service for Sergeants Stockard and Kicktar. Darin had never gone to a Special Forces memorial service before, but he felt like he ought to attend this one.

As soon as he stepped into the hangar, Darin noticed that his presence was unexpected and noteworthy. Reactions from the other attendees, none of whom he knew except Trainneer and the four uninjured commandos from the Aridus mission, ranged from curious looks at his pilot general duty uniform to unwelcoming cold shoulders to half-hearted but apparently good-natured jokes and ribbings about the Starfighter Command and Naval branches as he passed. Darin smiled self-consciously and wordlessly wove through the milling crowd to a seat in the back corner. This was a completely different world. He didn’t want to interfere with it, he just wanted to be there.

Soon everyone took a seat and the service began. Everything Darin learned about Kicktar and Stockard during the service amazed him. He’d barely known them at all, but he could tell all of these people had respected them a great deal and were upset that they were gone. Getting a glimpse of their world and who they had been before Darin had ever run across their paths made the two commandos so much more than a couple of teammates Darin had worked with once. While he listened to the rest of the service, he dug into his pocket, pulled out a small rock he had brought back from Lokinha and began to absently fiddle with it. Like the couple other times in the last two days when he’d tried it, this activity helped relieve a small amount of nervous energy.

After the service was over Darin hung around for a few minutes, hoping to privately talk to Hozke and see if there was any update on Troy’s condition since the time he’d asked yesterday. At that time, Hozke had said they’d be taking him out of bacta soon and he was expected to make a full recovery, though he hadn’t woken up yet. Darin finally spotted Hozke, but the commando was talking to an unfamiliar woman and it didn’t look like that conversation would be ending too soon. Thumper didn’t see any of the other commandos he knew through the crowd, so he figured he’d ask later.

Darin wove through the milling crowd again and left the hangar. Down the corridor he spotted Quiver, who was sitting on the floor against the wall and working on a datapad. Quiver had barely let him out of his sight since Darin had returned from the Aridus mission, and he’d even stated his intention to attend the service with Darin until it had dawned on them that Trainneer would be present. They mutually agreed that would be a bad situation and one that should be avoided at all costs, and so Quiver had chosen to wait nearby and get some paperwork done.

Darin clicked his comlink, and Quiver looked up from his datapad. He stood and began walking toward Darin to meet him. “All done?”

“Yeah, it just finished up,” Darin replied. “Let’s go.”

Darin had almost reached Quiver when he heard a voice call from behind, “Hey flyboy, wait a second.”

Darin stopped, uncertain about the implications of that type of command when there was a multitude of groundpounders on the other side of the nearest door, and turned around. Walking up to him was the woman Hozke had been talking to. She wore a fairly nondescript uniform and looked very tired.

She came up to him and asked, “You’re Darin Stanic?”

Darin nodded. What now? Was he in trouble? “Yes, ma’am. And you are...?” he asked as politely as he could.

Darin wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The woman took his head in her hands, pulled him toward her and kissed him full on the lips. When she stopped, all Darin could do was stare at her with wide, surprised eyes, then he slowly started to smile as the shock wore off.

“Someone who’s very grateful that you saved her husband,” she told him. “I won’t forget it, and I know Bren won’t either.” Without another word she let go, turned and walked back into the small hangar. The two pilots stared after her, Darin with a goofy grin and Quiver, who had reached his wingman during that time, with an amazed expression on his face.

Once the door to the hangar had closed behind her, Quiver grabbed Darin’s arm and spun him to face him. “Do you know who that was?” Quiver was obviously excited but kept his voice down.

Darin’s grin immediately disappeared. “If you think I’m going to answer that like she did, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Very funny, Niner,” Quiver said dryly. Then he grew excited again as he said, “You need to get out more and meet people. She’s the deputy to Star’s head of procurement. The second-in-command of scrounging!”

Darin looked back at the closed door. “She is?” He stopped to think about that. “Huh. Wow. I didn’t even know Troy was married.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t tell Troy that his wife kissed you like that,” Quiver said with a smirk. “I hear he and his Special Forces buddies can break into lots of different places and find people no matter where they are, and that they’re pretty good shots with a blaster.”

“Which, of course, means that you’ll keep this incident in the back of your mind until you decide you can use it for blackmail material,” Darin said as they started walking down the corridor again.

Quiver’s mischievous grin never lessened. “Blast it, Thumper, stop figuring me out.”

Darin sighed and said, “Don’t worry, you’re still a constant mystery to me.”

“Good.” Quiver reached over and put Darin in a headlock for a few steps until he was elbowed in the side. They laughed a bit and turned toward the repair bay.

And a few days later, they just exchanged a look when Mackin announced that in record time, Procurement had found and was expediting four replacement X-wings and three astromechs to the squadron.

***

The End