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[Briefing room, PLT Patience]

Drake walked into the briefing room the next morning still somewhat groggy from sleep.

"What's the matter, didn't they give you any sleep during your time away?" asked Arachnoid with a smile.

"No, as a matter of fact they didn't, much," Drake answered grumpily as he found a seat. He slowly looked around. Most of his old comrades sat in the hall, along with a few unfamiliar faces. For the first time since arriving back, he felt a warm prickling sensation in his heart despite the icy fingers of fear and grief which had seized it after learning of his old squadron and his old ship's fate.

"Oh, well, a week's worth of sleep back here and you'll be right as rain," Granite interjected helpfully, interrupting his thoughts.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that at the moment," Ibero cut in. "I think we're going to have our work cut out for us..." he broke off as Foxfire and Vyper entered the room, along with the blonde woman that had been captain of the Wolf's Den. Drake had rarely actually seen her before. He hadn't ever been personally introduced, and had been away for most of the time she had been in command. He took a moment to examine her in detail. She wore the insignia of a New Republic colonel, and was, Drake thought, reasonably attractive for her age. There was something strange about her, though... the ears, and...

And what?

Drake continued to watch as her gaze coolly swept the room. For a moment it settled on him, a pilot she had not taken much note of before. Then it swept on, her dark eyes almost black...

The eyes... and the ears...

"The captain, she's not human, is she?" Drake enquired of the man sitting next to him, a pilot he'd not seen before. The latter smiled.

"Nope. She's half Bothan. Pleased to meet you, I'm Cardinal." Drake grinned.

"Sorry. Should've introduced myself, Cardinal. I'm Drake." He stuck out his hand and Cardinal shook it firmly, a grin creasing his face.

"So you're the one..."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Drake wondered, although he doubted it was meant as anything but a little jibe. He didn't have time to wonder, however, as Foxfire suddenly raised a hand and the general din died down.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly as everyone at last got quiet and comfortable. "Here we all are at last - Wolfshead Squadron.

"I've gathered you here today for two reasons - one, I need to inform you of our new mission, and two, I'm going to formally introduce our captain, Colonel Talina Gen'yaa, to the newcomers in the squadron." Drake frowned, old arguments flaring up again in his mind. What the hell is a colonel doing in command of a naval vessel? he wondered in a flash of irritation. And a Bothan, at that, now! Probably some sort of political wrangling by Borsk Fey'lya.

Foxfire paused and looked over at the captain, who moved forward and leant on the podium.

"Good morning, pilots," the captain said evenly. "I'm in command of the Wolf's Lair, your new ship. Not only have I not gotten to fully know the ship yet - she's the first of a new class of ship, the Wolf-class Strike Carriers - but also I haven't gotten to know all of you. I have no doubts, however, that I will get to do so in the near future." Drake wasn't sure he liked the way Gen'yaa said that. She seemed to be suggesting that she'd get to know them more because they'd need to be disciplined than for any other reason. And all this time, I thought Orris was a hard old bastard, he thought with a wry grin. The captain continued.

"I want you all to familiarise yourselves with the senior crew and department heads, because they're the people you'll be working with. They're on duty at the moment, but I'm sure you'll get to know them in time.

"The mission you're about to take is, quite frankly, not one that I'd wish for, but it's essential nonetheless, and we will be getting underway very soon. I'll leave Commander Schroeder to the details of that mission. Before I leave, this is what I expect of you.

"I expect that you will follow your orders and follow them to the best of your ability. I run a tight ship, and it's through unqualified faith in the chain of command that I've managed to bring all my previous crews back home alive. What I'm saying is, play by the rules. I don't have a problem with initiative, so long as it's within the bounds set out for you. You may make mistakes, but I expect you to learn from them. I'm sure," the captain said after a slight pause, her face softening a little, "that you won't have many problems with this. Your records - both individually and as a squadron - are second to none. That's why you've become one of the most elite New Republic starfighter squadrons. Don't let the Republic down." Colonel Gen'yaa finished and slowly let her gaze drift around the room, letting her words sink in. Pilots are always such a difficult group to manage...

"That's all, Wolf Leader," she said, stepping down from the podium. Foxfire called the room to attention and saluted the captain as the senior officer left. Everyone let out a collective sigh, but surprisingly no one said a word. Foxfire's eyebrows arched at this, but she quickly assumed her position at the podium and began.

"So ends the pep talk," she said with a small grin. "Now down to business.

"Before I start, I'd like to welcome back Drake - those of you who don't know him will probably get to know him before long. He has a habit of making himself known," Foxfire added, earning her a sharp glance and a snort from Drake, although in fact he loved the attention. Everyone laughed and Foxfire relaxed slightly. It's good to lighten this up a little, she thought with an inner sigh.

"We also have a few newcomers to the squadron who've just been transferred even as we're all being transferred to our new ship, the Wolf's Lair. You may have seen a few of them around the platform over the past couple of days.

"We have Hawk, Gandalf, Raiven, Razor and Sledgehammer."

Each of the mentioned pilots stood as Foxfire called out their callsign. Drake watched, a little bored - he knew he would meet the rest of the newbies properly later on - until Razor stood up. As she stood and nodded a greeting to the rest of the squadron, her green eyes made contact with Drake's. Whoa! he thought, sitting up slightly. He leaned over fractionally to talk to Cardinal. "What do you know about her?" he whispered.

Cardinal grinned. "She certainly grabs your attention, doesn't she? I talked to her a little on the shuttle over here. Jarn Stynter, 24 standard years old, A Wing pilot and I'm sure ex-model with looks like that. She's pretty competitive, too. I get the impression that she feels she's got something to prove since there are fewer women here than in her previous squadron."

"What about the others?" asked Drake.

"Well, I've only talked to Raiven and Sledgehammer. Raiven - Mike Rovardi - is an ex-Imperial pilot, and pretty good too. Have you taken his and Vyper's training session yet?"

"No, I just arrived back yesterday."

Cardinal shuddered. "I won't spoil it for you - besides, Moose would have my head. Apparently he and Solo helped each other out of a bit of trouble last year. That's his TIE Advanced down in the bay.

"Alex 'Sledgehammer' Carston is a strike pilot - B Wings and Y Wings, apparently. Typical heavy firepower mud-mover."

Drake turned to look at the other pilot. "Don't tell me. A Wings are your speciality, right?"

Cardinal smiled again. "You guessed it!"

Drake nodded and turned his attention back to the briefing.

"...Wolfshead, we have a real situation on our hands here," Foxfire was saying, "This isn't an Imperial convoy or a rogue admiral that we have to track down - in many ways it's much worse.

"The Imperials are abandoning Mantara sector. It no longer has the resources to justify a continued Imperial presence there - at least, that's the way the Imps see it. They're withdrawing, but true to form, they intend to steal or destroy everything of value in the place before they leave. To that end, they've got a massive task force headed there even now at top speed. Luckily we've learnt of this now, or it would be too late. In just a few hours we'll be getting underway at full speed - we're going to give the Wolf's Lair a decent test drive on her maiden voyage! - but it's going to be a race against time to stop those Imps from burning everything they can't steal. And whenever they try to destroy resources they can't steal, you can bet your last credit that there'll be casualties and collateral damage." There was a murmur of noise which rippled amongst the squadron, but Foxfire quelled it and continued.

"I realise we're not exactly fully operational on this new ship," she said sympathetically, "but we have orders, and the lives of all those people are too important not to take some risks.

"That's all the information we have at the moment. We don't even know the composition of the task force - the intel we have is sketchy at best. We're probably going to have to gather some of our own when we get there." Conversation started again as it seemed that Foxfire had finished, but she slammed the podium with a hand and the room went instantly silent.

"Last thing before you go," she said, her face grave. "We have been authorised to take any and all measures necessary to complete this mission, as long as civilian lives aren't threatened."

"What about our lives?" Arachnoid wanted to know.

Foxfire's headshake was all he needed for an answer.

The room's atmosphere changed instantly, and a deathly silence hung over the assembly.

"Any more questions? No? Good. Be on flight deck C in thirty minutes for transport over to our new home," Foxfire concluded. "Dismissed."

[Hangar deck, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

"What a piece of junk!"

Drake stood, a kit bag in each hand, staring around him in wonder at the messy conglomeration of spare parts, fighters under repair and exposed circuitry that passed for the main hangar bay, and the fighters housed within it. A nearby B-wing sat sadly on the deck, most of its innards exposed as a couple of grimy techs worked on it. "This is what we have to take on the might of the Empire?"

"Who the hell are you?" a voice snapped from behind him. Drake whirled around and beheld one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Two in one day, he thought, The Force must be with me.

Beautiful, yes, but with a look that could have chilled milk. "I'm Drake," he answered evenly, his brow knitted into a frown. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Mar Hanniuska, Chief Tech," she answered, hands on hips and a hydrospanner in one hand. "And if you don't like the new ship - and more importantly, the fighters on board her - you're welcome to get off right here." Drake found, for once, that he just didn't have anything to say. She's good looking AND she's sharp, he thought, and his face broke into a grin.

"Sorry. No offence intended... it's just that I still miss my old ship. The name's Drake." He dropped a bag and offered his hand. Mar's face slowly unclouded, and the young man was quietly stunned by the resulting brilliance. Stop thinking like a schoolkid! he admonished himself, but he just couldn't seem to help it.

"I understand - losing a ship is never easy," Mar said, and took his hand in a firm, greasy grip.

Drake grinned at his blackened hand. "Touche, Lieutenant," he said with a smile, and was gone. Mar Hanniuska just shook her head and resumed her work, carefully watching the stream of pilots coming from the shuttles with one eye.

Not more hot blooded males! she thought wryly. Still, if they're all as easy to outwit as that one was - wonder what his real name is? - then this assignment should be fun.

[Pilot's Quarters, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

Lieutenant DSC, or "Arachnoid" to his friends, was busy unpacking his kit bags when Drake stepped into the room.

"We've got to share quarters on this thing?" Drake asked, in a forced calm voice. Arachnoid just nodded.

"Sadly, yes. I have to put up with you all day, every day. I don't know how or why I got lumped with it, but it seems like..."

"All right, all right," Drake cut him off with a laugh. "At least I'm with someone who understands the delicacies of communal living. Wonder who got bunked with Granite?" At that thought the two men laughed.

"I don't know, but I hope you don't snore, my friend," Arachnoid warned. Drake was trying to think of a retort when the ship's intercom crackled to life.

"Do you hear there, Navigator speaking," it began. Drake inclined his head at the speaker. "Who's the NO on this tub?" he asked quietly.

"Guy called Vaiweehanen. Lieutenant, a Twi'lek," Arachnoid informed him quickly before the broadcast continued.

"We will be entering hyperspace in two minutes," Lieutenant Vaiweehanen continued. "Therefore, secure all clutter ready for reversion. Stand by for updates as we travel. That is all."

"That's it? That's all the information we get?" Arachnoid asked a little irritably.

"Apparently so," Drake sighed. "We haven't even finished unpacking yet, and we're already on the way."

"Big hurry on this mission."

Drake nodded.

"And who are these commandos hanging around?" Drake asked him. He'd seen roughly twenty of them, he thought, hanging around the ship. And there were some transports and a shuttle docked with the Wolf's Lair that belonged to them. Arachnoid waved a hand dismissively as he continued pulling items out of his bag.

"Oh, they're Lynx Commando. Some sort of elite fighting unit that we're supposed to be working with. They specialise in boarding and capture operations, but they can do groundwork as well."

"I see," Drake nodded. "They don't seem very friendly, though."

"No, that's true, Moose was saying that they were a bit stand offish, even with him," Arachnoid observed, pausing to think for a moment. "But they're new, and clearly from such a mix of backgrounds that I wouldn't even like to guess about them. Some of them look dangerous... and not just to the Empire!" Drake chuckled at that. He knew his friend was only half serious, but he had to admit that some of the Lynx members, especially their leader, looked quite fearsome. There was also a blond man that Drake thought was the biggest human he had ever seen. "The Giant", as Drake had taken to calling him, always seemed to be with a youngish man who wore black and - Drake fancied - carried something that looked remarkably like a lightsaber.

"Well, so long as they do their job and we do ours, I guess it doesn't matter," the young pilot offered.

"That's right," Arachnoid agreed. "It would be nice to get to know them, though."

"Yeah. It's gonna be strange, though," Drake mused. "I can't believe the size of this bucket. You could go for weeks without even visiting parts of it!! Yet we still have to share quarters, for goodness' sake..."

"Yes, it's huge," his friend nodded. "Pretty impressive, though. Hopefully we'll be a bit more comfy on here that we were on the Joan, or even the Den. This is a brand new ship, though... they had to rush it out here when they heard about the Mantara situation. As you've probably noticed, parts of it still aren't finished... hence the shared quarters."

"Indeed. No offence, my friend, but not for long, I hope!" Drake frowned. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Wasn't the second Death Star taken out when it was still only half complete?"

[Main hangar, Strike Carrier Wolf's Lair]

Foxfire and a man who most of the Wolfshead pilots did not recognise stood apart from the congregated New Republic warriors on the hangar deck. The Wolfshead pilots had been joined by the Lynx Commandos for their first joint briefing, probably their last one before battle with the Empire was joined. The man - if you could call him that - standing next to Foxfire looked decidedly uncomfortable, Drake thought. Foxfire suddenly raised a hand for silence.

"Okay, let's get started," she said brusquely. "For those of my pilots who don't know, this is Captain Zhom Kh'Arli, commander of the Lynx Commandos - it's good to put a face to the name, isn't it? For those of Lynx who don't know me, I'm Commander Avery Schroeder. This is our first mission where we'll be working together from the same ship, and quite a mission it is going to be. Since there's a lot more space aboard the Lair than the Den, Lynx has moved from the Post Haste and you'll be seeing them around from now on. Now, I've already briefed my pilots on what we know, and Captain Kh'Arli tells me he's done the same, so I'll cut to the latest news we have.

"Intelligence estimates which have been given to us indicate that what we're up against will be some four Star Destroyers, a couple of frigates and several smaller ships, such as Assault Transports, Corvettes, and so on."

A murmur ran through the Wolfshead pilots at this information; the Lynx Commandos, however, remained silent. It's easy for them not to be worried, Wolfshead's commander thought with a flash of irritation. They're not the ones who have to actually fight all these capital ships...

"Obviously, we're not going to be able to fight a force of this size and win by conventional means," Foxfire continued. "So we're going to need to use a little bit of cunning. We actually hope to get Lynx to infiltrate a ship - if we can disable it! - and capture it so we can use it straight away to swing the battle in our favour. Unfortunately the Wolf's Lair is hardly battle-ready, either, but luckily we do have a full complement of fighters and plenty of warheads. We're going to have to use every one of them, if we hope to win, and maybe with a bit of tricky flying and a lot of luck, we might actually be able to make the Imps' numbers work against them.

"Lynx, you'll be on standby, armed and ready to go, so that you can launch and get to an enemy ship at a moment's notice. Wolfshead, as of now, you're all on alert five status. You'd better be sitting in your cockpits, ready to launch as soon as the word is given. Captain, do you have anything to say?" Foxfire asked finally, turning to Kh'Arli. The latter frowned and shook his head.

"No," he answered simply. Foxfire nodded. She hadn't expected any different, based on her knowledge of this extraordinary man and his character.

"Are there any questions? Make them quick." Fortunately, there weren't, so Wolfshead's commander clapped her hands once quickly, for emphasis.

"Okay. May the Force be with us! Let's go!" People started to move off in all directions.

Drake suddenly found himself facing the young man dressed in black that hung around the Giant. To his surprise, the commando regarded him with something that looked like a mixture of fear and loathing.

"G'day. The name's Drake," the young pilot said in an effort to be friendly, sticking out his hand.

"I am Eadrain," the other said, but he didn't take Drake's hand. He stared at him a moment longer, then asked abruptly.

"Why do you carry a lightsaber? You are not a Force sensitive person."

Drake was speechless. A quick glance down at the other man's waist confirmed that he bore a weapon of the Jedi.

"I...well, it's a useful tool. I can use it sometimes to get out of sticky situations, or to improvise solutions to problems."

Eadrain shook his head. "That is not its purpose. It is a weapon, not a tool." His voice and his stare were both still cold, and Drake felt his temper rising.

"I'm sure. Still, I carry it, and I'll use it as I see fit. I don't see what you-"

"Where did you get it?" The voice was still cold, but carried a kind of urgent and intense curiosity with it, as if the young black-clad man's life depended on the answer.

"Actually, I took it from the body of a Dark Jedi," the young Wolfshead pilot said defensively. "He was about to kill me and a couple of friends with it." At this, the commando's eyes opened fractionally wider, and he raised a brow.

"A Dark Jedi? And where did this happen?" Drake squirmed uncomfortably.

"Sorry mate, but I've about had enough of your rudeness and your questions. Where I got it is classified, but I wouldn't tell you anyway. I tried to be friendly and you-"

"I'm sorry." Eadrain's gaze still bore intensely into Drake. "But I sense great evil about your lightsaber, and I've felt that same evil, once before. Will you give the saber to me?"

Drake was taken aback. To make such a bold request, at the first meeting, seemed to him incredible. There was an unnerving intensity about this young Jedi - if that was what he was - which the young pilot found both intriguing and frightening. Slowly, he shook his head.

"I don't think so. I-" He stopped in mid sentence. By some weird miracle, the black-clad commando's face was blurring and changing. For a second, Drake could've sworn that the man opposite him was his own father. Then, the face resumed its normal shape, and Drake blinked twice, doubting whether what he had seen had been real.

What was real was that Eadrain now held Drake's lightsaber in his hand. Drake's eyes now flashed with pure anger and he took an angry step forward.

"Look, I don't care who the hell you are, but-"

"I'm sorry." Eadrain's face had lost much of its intensity. "This lightsaber is evil, and evil will befall you if you keep it. On that, you're going to have to trust me." The commando looked searchingly at Drake, hoping that this impetuous young pilot would believe him, and let the matter rest. The latter tensed for a moment, hesitating, but then relaxed and exhaled noisily.

"I'll trust you, at least for now," he growled. "But when we get back from this mission, you and I are going to have a talk about this." And to Drake's surprise, the black-clad figure smiled.

"Good. That is exactly what I had hoped for," he said. "Now, we had both better be going." And in a second he was gone.

Drake shook his head as he headed for his X-wing. I wish I knew what the hell all that was about, he thought, and frowned. As if there's not enough trouble around here already!

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