Mannix sat in the the cockpit of his small, one-man fighter and watched the timer tick down to zero and the launch of his small craft. It wasn't anything spectacular, or so he had been told, but it's what Taggart had trained him on, and it was all he knew. His instructor had also been pretty impressed at what he had already learned in such a short time. Impressed enough that Mannix was assigned to a fighter for this mission, rather than a crewman on board one of the bigger ships.
Suddenly the timer hit zero and the cargo bay doors aboard the Twilight Stalker opened. He watched and listened as Jester One, then Jester Two lauched and called out, signaling the next pair of fighters to launch. He had been assigned to be Jester Three's wing-man, and had been instructed to follow her lead during the mission. He jammed his accelerator forward and followed his wing out of the cargo bay. "Jester Four away," he called over the radio.
"Four, this is Three, follow me," came his wing-man's feminine voice over helmet speakers. She was a human female, new to the crew at Hoth, and Mannix had only met the new recruit once before. He tried, and failed to recall her name.
"As ordered," he called back. They quickly turned and sped away, forming up on Jester One. Their objective was to disable the shuttle before it could escape to hyperspace. The Stalker and the converted freighters would handle the looming Republic hammer-head.
He was surprised that he didn't feel more nervous, and tried to remember the last minute instructions that Raezyr and Trychon had given him. "Stretch out with your feelings. The Force can give you great insight into your opponents maneuvers. Trust your instincts."
The squadron leader's voice brought him back to the present. "Leader to squad, enemy two squadrons of fighters launching from the hammer-head. Two, Five and Six, you're on me. We have to disable that shuttle. The rest of you, keep those damn fighters off our backs."
They barely had time to acknowledge and the enemy came screaming among them, the two opposing waves flying through. Mannix watched his screen and when the reticule went red, he squeezed the trigger on his stick. Red darts of light burst out and struck the starboard foil of the onrushing fighter. He couldn't tell how much damage was done, if any.
Damage reports were already coming in. They were vastly out numbered as the Republic warship carried two full squadrons of fighters with it, twelve in each, while their own fighter force amounted to only ten... six since four were off trying to disable that shuttle. They were out numbered four to one. The Republic also had better and faster fighters. Faster than anything the young monk was used to, at least.
He followed his wing around in tight loop, rolling to port and instantly they were back in the thick of the fight. He lined up behind an enemy fighter and let go with his laser cannons. The fighter turned into a ball of fire and scrap.
For a brief moment, he was elated with the kill, but then he realized his father wouldn't have been so proud. Killing had been against everything his family and his community had stood for. But they were gone now. Gone because of the greed of one man. Brother Varth, or Vikon as Raezyr had later told him, had sabotaged and destroyed everyone he knew. If it hadn't been for the two Sith, he might have been dead as well. Rage filled his heart, and he used it as a tool as the two brothers had taught him to do.
Things seemed to slow around him and the situation became clear. The course of the enemy fighters seemed almost to be mapped out in his mind despite the lack of evidence anywhere else. He shot down three fighters in a row before losing his wing man.
In the back of his mind it registered, as well as the fact that the Jet Razor, or the "Mole" as was it's call sign on this mission, had acquired and boarded it's target craft. All he needed to do was last a bit longer and the mission was a success.
His fighter squadron, which had begun ten strong, was had now dwindled down to just Jester Leader and himself, while the enemy still had eight fighters... still four to one odds.
The squadron leader's voice crackled over the radio, "Jester Four, this is Jester Leader."
"Jester Four here," Mannix replied.
"Five, Six and Two are gone. It's you and me kid. Form up on me over here by Mole and the shuttle. They say they need five more minutes. We'll give them all we can," came his leader's voice.
"As ordered."
He banked and altered course, punching the accelerator as high as it would go. He had to break two separate missile locks just getting there.
"Hurry, kid, I've got one on my tail and I can't shake 'em!"
Mannix tried to get behind the craft pursuing Jester Leader, and it banked into a screwdriver roll, but not before letting loose with two proton torpedoes. He watched as the blue streaks homed in and obliterated Jester Leader's craft.
And he was alone.
He wished he could line up some of the other fighters in his sights, but it was all he could do to keep the remaining fighters from forming an attack run on Mole.
Suddenly, he heard a tone indicating another missile lock on his fighter. Mannix had just enough time to notice that it was the same craft which had just shot down Jester Leader. He quickly banked left and pulled back on the stick, climbing into a loop to try and get behind his pursuer, and although he broke the lock, he couldn't shake the fighter on his tail.
He tried several more maneuvers, but whomever it was dogging him was relentless. Three times his attacker gained missile lock and each time the monk broke the lock easily by banking hard left and either rolling, diving or pulling into a loop.
But each time the hunter stayed on his tail, almost as if they knew what he was doing before he did it. Once again the missile lock sounded, and the young fighter pilot banked left, but this time he banked directly into a heavy barrage of laser fire from his dogged pursuer.
Mannix entire world went black.
---------------------
He slammed his fist into the dash panel of the fighter as the canopy slowly lifted open with a pop and a hiss, making the young pilots ears pop at the difference in air pressure. He pulled the helmet from his head and shut off all the ships systems. Raezyr had said they were going to score that simulator mission just for fun, and he wondered exactly how he would do.
He sighed and climbed out of his ship, looking around the crowded hangar at the Hoth base. There was only one other just climbing out a fighter that had been setup for simulator missions. "Raez?" Mannix shouted and trotted across the hangar to where the Sith was just hitting the ground. "Was that you in the enemy fighter?" the kid asked.
Raezyr pulled his helmet off and grinned. "Yeah, that was me. You have to stop banking to the left every time you want to break missile lock." He clapped the kid on the shoulder. "You did well, you let the Force guide your actions, but be mindful that your own reactions don't become repetitive. "
"I thought I was changing it up every time," Mannix said.
"Close, but your first move was to bank left and then you varied your actions. After the second time, I could have had you a sooner, but thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt," Raezyr told him. "It's the same way in light saber combat, but that will come later."
"A light saber? Really?" Mannix asked, excited and nervous about the prospect at the same time.
Raezyr gave a reproachful look. "Much later," he said, emphasizing the 'much.' "For now, get back over to your ship and give the mechanics some feed back. Let them know how you want it tweaked. We'll be leaving tomorrow, so things need to be finished up." He gave the young kid a playful push in the direction toward his fighter, and the monk began to trot off.
"Mannix," the Sith called to him.
"Yeah?"
"You did alright, kid."
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