Cold Embrace - A Star Wars Fan Fiction

A Hero Returns

Thrawn continued to survey the carnage before him, the constant flashes of red and green as X-Wings and TIE Fighters continued their relentless war for the skies. He counted thirty Republic fighters, all zooming in and out of whatever pitiful formation they had been in. Thirty ships meant thirty people, and that meant thirty families, sitting at home with baited breath, praying that their loved ones would make it home alive. By the end of the night, thirty families would be in tears.

Ackbar, on the other side of this conflict, could see something very different. The Imperial fighters had his outnumbered by at least ten, and from his barely-functioning monitors, he could scarcely make out anything from the scrambled hiss and noise travelling through the intercoms. His only reliable source was the window, and through that, all he could see was death. Scattered debris, both Republic and Imperial, filled every corner of the battle. Out there were some of the greatest heroes in the history of the Rebellion, many of whom he'd personally fought side-by-side with. His only hope was that skill would triumph over numbers.

Outside, things were getting worse. Red Squad, Gold Squad and Inferno Squad were the best soldiers the New Republic had to offer, and they were no stranger to picking dogfights with TIEs, but these were different. Their attacks were tight, focused, well-timed, with the kind of precision one would need years of training to master. It was well-known that Emperor Palpatine had never cared for the Imperial military. All he needed was an Empire that appeared imposing, powerful and threatening to crush any potential dissent. Any truly significant threats, well, that's what Darth Vader was for. Now though, every TIE Fighter felt it was being piloted by an Iden Versio, or a Gideon Hask. These virtuosic pilots were once few and far between, now they were everywhere. Even Iden herself, in her customised X-Wing, was struggling to keep up with them.

Lasers continued to fly, sparks continued to ignite, explosions continued to rock both capital ships. It was a vicious cycle, with no end in sight.

One X-Wing's engine was damaged, sending a trail of smoke in its wake. The pilot veered off from the battle in an attempt to repair, but he soon had a TIE on his case. He tried turning to make an attack run, but the engines were too damaged to handle it. A full turn like that would be the end of them, and the end of him. He tried speeding up to get out of the fighter's range, but in this state he wouldn't outrun it. His sensor alarms were all going off at once. His thoughts started racing, wondering if he'd ever see his wife and kids again, when suddenly a huge laser blast came seemingly out of nowhere, blowing the TIE to smithereens. As he looked out of his window to see who his saviour was, he saw a single, unique X-Wing rush by, and a familiar voice sounded over the intercom.

"Red Squadron, this is Luke Skywalker, standing by!"

It was like one final spark had risen to ignite the fire. As that distinctive, red-marked X-Wing tore through the sky, blasting TIEs left and right, there was a sudden sense of hope instilled in the Rebels' hearts. They had all been convinced that this would be a suicide mission up until this point, but now, they had a chance, now, they could win, because now, they had Luke Skywalker.

Cam's face dropped, as a feeling of terror shook him. This was the Jedi who had defeated Darth Vader, who had brought about the end of the Empire, and now he was here, to finish the job. He shut his eyes tight to prevent a tear as the reality of the situation dawned on him... he was going to die here.

He looked up from his control console, expecting to find Thrawn in a fit of anger at the Jedi's untimely arrival, but was instead met with the same, sadistic smile that had contorted the Chiss' triangle jaw since the start of the battle. Had this been ten minutes ago, he would have blurted out some obscenity at this bizarre leap of illogic, but he didn't even care anymore. He didn't even care about himself. In this moment, all he cared about was one thing, Jesse. He was never going to see him again, he'd be dead within the hour. He just prayed to whatever god might be up in the stars that they kept his angel safe.

Thrawn paid his distressed servant no mind. His focus was on the battle. His grin had not been moved by the arrival of such a dangerous enemy; if anything, it had only improved.

"At last," he mused. "All the key figures are finally in play. They are doing their part, it is time for us to do ours,"

He turned, and noticed Cam in a clear state of unease. He cared nothing for it.

"Stand at attention, Captain Vixor. This battle has been a costly one, but the time for our revenge is nigh. Prepare to spring our trap. Tonight, we bring the New Republic to its knees,"

As Thrawn said those final, fateful words, Cam knew exactly what he had to do. This was it, this was what Thrawn had been preparing him for. He entered a long, clearly-rehearsed code into his computer, and held his breath. What happened next was of no consequence to him, he'd played his part, now all he had to do was wait.

Wait, and hope.