Cal Stravin
08-25-2003, 06:38 AM
Name: Cal Stravin
Alias: "Get this guy off me, Blue 7!"
Species: Human
Homeworld: Tierfon
Special Training: Pilot, marksman, basic hand-to-hand combat, tactics: single element fighter to fighter.
Age: 27 standard years
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 195 lbs.
Eyes: Green
Hair: Sandy Brown
Profession: Mercenary fighter pilot
Medical: Depression
Family: Garrik (Father-deceased), Sarenna (Mother-deceased) Kiryn (sister-deceased), Mina Wexler-Stravin (wife- deceased)
Marital: Widower
Children: none
History:
Cal Stravin was born on the backwater world of Tierfon ten years before the Battle of Yavin. His childhood was relatively pleasant in spite of the deteriorating state of the galaxy. His father, Garrik, was a freelance technician and his mother ran a small curio shop specializing in homemade goods in the tiny business sector of Gamede, one of the few towns established on Tierfon.
Cal and his younger sister Kiryn were well taken care of and spoiled at practically every opportunity. Both children were exceptionally bright for their ages and as they grew they became relatively popular in their region for both scholastic and athletic achievements.
Cal's aptitude placed him in contention for an Imperial Academy scholarship, a distinct rarity, considering that the Empire didn't consider Tierfon as an asset worth even one garrison. In fact the only Imperial presence at all was one holo-net relay station manned by a low level dignitary and his family.
When he reached the age of 17 an event that would forever change him occured. He had just finished running a supply of home spun tunics to his mother's shop and decided to take the family's late model Mobquet landspeeder for a little joyride. He gunned the throttle and pushed the speeder to it's limits, relishing the brief taste of freedom his respite gave him, and knowing just how quickly the moment would pass.
Cal drove until he was well beyond the city glow of Gamede and finally brought the vehicle to a stop at the crest of a large hill overlooking the town. It was here that he would take the time to stare at the stars and wonder what was out there. Occasionally there were a couple of shooting stars, and since his mother was highly superstitious and some of that rubbed off on him, Cal would wish upon them.
As he lay there on the speeders hood, he spotted two odd lights moving too slowly to be shooting stars, but far quicker than the communications sattelites that orbitted Tierfon. He pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars and set it's gain to maximum in order to see the objects as clarly as possible.
He had expected the craft to be a couple of the Z-95 Headhunters attached to the single squadron the Tierfon defense force boasted. But the direction and the time of day that the fighters were flying at now didn't make any sense.
The fighters were on a landing approach vector to the Durstil mountain range, a desolate area of Tierfon. The mountains had been tapped of their metal content years ago and the corporate sector mining operation had informed the general populace that the region was not worth the time and effort of the people for reclamation. Thus the Durstils were casually forgotten. It had been that way for as long as Cal could remember.
So why were the fighters going there now? And why so late?
His jaw dropped as the image solidified and suddenly his questions were answered. The fighters resembled Z-95s, but the quad ion drives and the four wingtip laser cannons were a dead give away.
Incom T-65s. X-wings. Rebel X-wings.
A lance of fear stabbed into Cal's stomach as all the stories he had seen on the holo-net of rebel attrocities swam in his mind. Rebel terrorists had destroyed Alderaan, and then shortly after a newly commissioned Imperial peace platform. Currently nearby systems were reporting that Imperial freighter convoys were being systematically destroyed by rebel starfighters and a task force had been commissioned to find and destroy the rebels.
So far, the task force had turned up nothing. The fighters would appear, eliminate their targets and vanish without a trace, leaving the Imperial Navy baffled.
Cal tracked the X-wings across the skies and suddenly felt a longing. The fighters may have been enemies, but they were so... beautiful. The sleek lines, the slightly forward canted wings... asthetically they were far prettier than the ugly TIE fighter eyeball design. Cal wondered what it would be like to get behind the controls of a T-65 and see what it was capable of.
Cal watched until the fighters performed a perfectly sychronized bank and dipped behind one of the peaks of the Durstils. A million different emotions and plans were crashing through his skull as he drove back to his family's ranch. The perfect opportunity to secure his scholarship had fallen into his lap. All he needed to do was inform the authorities.
As soon as the old Mobquet's engine cut off, Cal rushed into his home and ran to the family com unit. His fingers numbly keyed in the number for the law enforcement station. As he waited for an answer an odd but enticing thought speared into his mind. It was just a simple image of four ion engines burning a brilliant red in the night sky.
A deputy at the enforcement station picked up and Cal deactivated the com before the man could utter a word. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he knew that his only chance to see a T-65 up close rested on secrecy. Something that would disappear the second the authorities sent a patrol out to investigate. Plus from what the news on the holo-net said about the rebels, they might well destroy Gamede in retribution for having their base exposed. It was strange, but somehow Cal didn't consider that option as very likely.
No. He would keep it a secret and investigate the Durstils on his own. Needless to say, Cal's sleep was very restless and filled with vivid dreams that night.
Cal had decided to undertake his mission at the end of the week. He had fed his parents a cover story about going camping with a few friends for the weekend, leaving him two days to explore the mountains without arousing suspicion.
That week in school had been the longest of his life. He drifted during his normal classes and the only excitement came from having sim-duels with his friends after class in Gamede's only arcade. It was here that Cal met the woman that would one day become his wife.
She was gorgeous on a galactic scale, milky white skin, piercing blue eyes and shoulder length brunette hair. She had transferred to Cal's school earlier in the week and had immediately garnered the reputation of an outsider. She was quiet, outside of class but during galactic civics she was a firebrand. She spoke freely, openly and at great length about the shortcomings of the Empire. The faculty didn't bother reporting her to anyone, deciding that it required less paper work to simply chalk her attitude and views to youthful exuberance and naivettie.
Her name was Mina Wexler, and when Cal wasn't thinking about the hidden T-65s he was thinking of her. He would see her around and had even signed one of her "Free Rodia Now!" petitions just to get closer to her. Cal was one of the popular kids and he drew a little flak from his teammates about his infatuation with the "rebel girl", but Cal remained undaunted in his pursuit.
After he had cleanly waxed all of his friends in the sim-duels, Cal screwed up his courage and walked over to the table where Mina was sitting.
Their introductions had been brief and awkward. Cal did little more than listen to Mina as she talked for hours about her mission to expose Imperial attrocity. Cal was so entranced with her beauty and drive and spirit that he heard little of what Mina said. She had noticed him drifting and said something about having an Ithorian grandmother to see how much attention he was paying her.
She laughed as he fumbled his way through an excuse, and Cal melted at the melodic sound. Little did he know, Cal was absorbing Mina's radical information. It began to make sense to him and he wondered just how much of her ravings were true.
The moment for his expedition finally came and Cal loaded up his meager supplies and headed for the Durstils. After hours of fruitless searching, he decided to take a break on a small plateau. Just as he was unwrapping a ration bar he heard the unmistakable sound of blaster safety clicking. He felt the muzzle of the weapon dig into his shoulder blades and suddenly the world went dark as a black cloth sack was placed over his head. Cal was dragged away into the shadows with his binders shackling his wrists and fearing for his life.
He felt himself roughly slammed into a chair and had to blink as the hood was torn away and a harsh floodlight was beamed into his eyes. His captors were constantly cloaked in shadow and began interrogating him. He was able to acertain that he was in some kind of cell, but beyond that he had no idea if he was even on Tierfon anymore.
The interrogators poked, prodded and threatened Cal to try and get some kind of information from him about why he was wandering around in the mountains, what he was looking for and more importantly, who had sent him.
He told his story over and over again until finally his captors left the room. Another hour passed and Cal jumped as the door to his cell whisked open. The floodlight was deactivated and the normal glow panels flickered to life. His eyes adjusted and then widened at the sight of his visitor.
Mina Wexler.
She was clad in an orange flight suit with the alliance insignia patched on her left shoulder and by the look in her eyes, she was not at all pleased to see him.
She explained to Cal that the only reason he was still drawing breath was that she had pulled a few serious strings. She had convinced the base commander to place Cal in her custody. Cal learned that Mina was actually a rebel intelligence officer charged with the task of finding and recruiting those on Tierfon sympathetic to the alliance cause.
Mina gave Cal two options: 1. Join the fight to rid the galaxy of Imperial tyranny. Or 2. Spend the rest of the war or the rest of his life in the cell he currently occupied. The decision had been obvious.
During the next year and a half, Cal led a secret life. By day he performed his normal day to day duties. But by night, Mina trained him to be a weapon. She taught him basic hand to hand combat skills, and marksmenship. He learned tactics and procedures of Imperial soldiers, intelligence gathering methods, and most importantly of all; Starfighter combat.
Cal quickly became a highly competant and proficient fighter pilot, racking up sim numbers on par with some of the best the alliance had to offer. Before he knew it Cal was standing in the hangar bay of the Tierfon fighter base staring at the object that had fueled him on his quest into the Durstils in the first place.
An Incom T-65 X-wing Starfighter... His starfighter.
That first training flight was one that he would remember for the rest of his life. Chasing Mina through the Durstil canyons, looping and arcing all over the sky, and shooting training drones on the dark side of Tierfon's second moon. It was an experience that he relived every time he fired up the fighter's engines.
With his training completed, Cal was inducted into the rebel alliance and assigned to Blue squadron, the base's primary defense and patrol group. It was the proudest day of his life, but bittersweet in the fact that he could never tell his family or what few friends he had left.
Fate however would shatter the thin barrier of secrecy that shielded Cal's lives from one another.
An Imperial counter-espionage agent had learned of a possible rebel stronghold on Tierfon and had immediately signaled for the task force to come and investigate.
The alliance base went dark. Patrol flights ceased for fear of discovery and summary ahniliation from the task force, and all personnel were ordered to hole up in the hastily constructed shelters deep within the Durstils.
Cal and Mena had been in Gamede at the time of the alert and watched with growing concern as more and more of an imperial presence was established on Tierfon.
Squads of stormtroopers patrolled the streets. Curfews were imposed, citizens suspected of collaborating with the rebellion were rounded up and placed into internment camps or disappeared entirely.
Cal watched helplessly as citizens were dragged from their homes, beaten, shot, or conscripted into the imperial ranks.
He wanted to fight, to blindly charge into the ranks of stormtroopers and try and kick them off his world, but Mina kept him in check. They would be of no use to anyone if they were captured or killed.
They spent the better part of a week playing cat and mouse with the Imperial patrols until Mina recieved a short-burst coded transmission from the alliance base. The message was was but one word.
Evacuate.
It made sense. It wasn't a question of if the base was discovered, it was a question of when. After a harrowing escape from Gamede, Cal and Mina returned to the fighter outpost to find it in a state of organized chaos.
Shuttles, transports and fighters were being prepped for launch. Tech crews scurried about performing last minute checks on all the craft before hustling into their designated escape ships only to wait and pray.
The alliance commander reasoned that escape was possible. The Imperial task force consisted of a Victory II Star Destroyer and two Lancer picket ships in loose orbit in the skies above. A relatively small amount of force, but enough to decimate the two fighter squadrons and handful of support ships housed in the base.
They would wait until the task force's orbit took them to the far side of Tierfon and then it would be every ship for themselves with the fighters providing as much cover as they could.
The word was given and the alliance craft burst from the hangar like a swarm of angry insects. Blue and Red squadrons assumed a tight cover formation around the fleeing transports and all seemed as if they might actually make a clean break.
The Imperial's had been caught off guard, but their response time was immaculate. As soon as the rebel ships were detected the task force burned for high orbit in an effort to cut them off from their hyperspace vectors.
In a manner of seconds the Victory disgorged it's TIEs and the X-wings of Red and Blue squadrons broke to engage.
The alliance fought valiantly but it became clear to Cal that they were slowly being overwhelmed. Within the first five minutes of combat Cal had achieved five kills, but there was no time to rest on laurels. A sharp bleating from his target acquisition software notified him that a squadron of Assault Gunboats had entered the system and were closing fast.
The Gunboats with their heavy compliment of missiles could make short work of the small alliance convoy from long range. Cal knew this, the Imperials knew this, and the alliance commander knew this. The time for heroism was over.
When all was said and done, only thirty-five percent of the alliance support ships made it to the rally point just outside the Tierfon system. Only six out of the twenty four fighters remained, Cal and Mina among them.
Cal would later find out that the city of Gamede was leveled from orbit by the Imperial task force to set an example to other would be traitors.
With a last look at Tierfon's primary, Cal eased a lever forward and disappeared into the mottled pink and purple swirls of hyperspace, leaving behind almost everything that he had known and loved. Forever.
Cal and Mina were later assigned to the Nebulon-B frigate Larkhness and spent much of the war before Endor engaging in diversionary strikes against lightly defended Imperial assets all over the outer rim. During this time they had grown very close, both of them denying promotion and reassignment to be with each other. Both deeply in love, but both terrified that someday one of them would go on a mission and not come back. With the impressive numbers the pair racked up during their mission, alliance command couldn't find a reason to split them up and didn't fault them for the path they walked.
After participating in the Battle of Endor, Cal and Mina decided to throw caution to the wind. In a small and strange ceremony on the forest moon the two were wed by an Ewok shamaan and held each other watching the remains of the second Death Star burn up in a brilliant pyrotechnic display. For the first time since the flight from Tierfon, Cal felt at peace.
For a time all in the universe was right and just. Cal was contemplating resigning his commission and settling down somewhere with Mina to raise a family. Those plans were shattered with the arrival of Thrawn.
During the fight for the Bilbringi Shipyards, Cal and Mina became separated from their squadron and were quickly cut off. They fought desperately but the odds were against them as swarms of Ties enveloped them. Cal's X-wing took a direct hit that shredded the top starboard ion engine and sent him in a wildly uncontrolled spin. With all of his systems offline, and his fighter hurtling away from the battle, the Imperials ignored him.
Mina wasn't so fortunate.
Cal gritted his teeth together and worked frantically to get his com systems back on line. After suffering a few minor shocks, the communicator bleeped to life... just in time to hear Mina's final shriek of pain as her X-wing was obliterated.
Cal was numb and despondent long after the search and rescue team found him. The constant knowledge that he wasn't there for the woman he loved when she needed him the most ate away at him. He couldn't walk down the corridors of the Larkhness without being reminded of Mina, and his sleep was infested with nightmares of her final moments.
The only time he could concentrate was when he was in the simulator pods. His flight status had been revoked due to his mental state and Cal knew that he couldn't get revenge on the Imperials if he was grounded. So using the pain and anguish as fuel, Cal threw himself into trying to heal himself.
The pain never went away, but as time went on, he was able to suppress it enough to convince the Republic med-techs that he was fit to fly again.
When he was finally cleared for active duty, the Thrawn campaign had ended leaving the Republic Navy to mop up the few beligerant warlords that sprang up to fill the vacuum left from Thrawn's death.
Cal fought these battles with droid like emotion and found that no matter how many Ties he blew away, it was never enough, and it seemed as if the Republic was giving up on completely destroying the Imperial Remnant.
Cal became disgruntled with this new policy, convinced a tech to list his X-wing as destroyed in the Republic Armed Forces database and resigned his commission. He traveled to Nar Shadaa, and when he wasn't drowning his sorrow in alcohol he was flying mercenary combat missions for any squadron that would hire him.
With every sortie, Cal hopes that someday he will either redeem himself in Mina's eyes or join her in the great beyond.
Ship: T-65 X-wing with anodized black paint scheme.
Droid: R2-D8. Silver with red piping. Nicknamed "Ratchet."
Weapon: Blastech DL-18 Blaster pistol
Alias: "Get this guy off me, Blue 7!"
Species: Human
Homeworld: Tierfon
Special Training: Pilot, marksman, basic hand-to-hand combat, tactics: single element fighter to fighter.
Age: 27 standard years
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 195 lbs.
Eyes: Green
Hair: Sandy Brown
Profession: Mercenary fighter pilot
Medical: Depression
Family: Garrik (Father-deceased), Sarenna (Mother-deceased) Kiryn (sister-deceased), Mina Wexler-Stravin (wife- deceased)
Marital: Widower
Children: none
History:
Cal Stravin was born on the backwater world of Tierfon ten years before the Battle of Yavin. His childhood was relatively pleasant in spite of the deteriorating state of the galaxy. His father, Garrik, was a freelance technician and his mother ran a small curio shop specializing in homemade goods in the tiny business sector of Gamede, one of the few towns established on Tierfon.
Cal and his younger sister Kiryn were well taken care of and spoiled at practically every opportunity. Both children were exceptionally bright for their ages and as they grew they became relatively popular in their region for both scholastic and athletic achievements.
Cal's aptitude placed him in contention for an Imperial Academy scholarship, a distinct rarity, considering that the Empire didn't consider Tierfon as an asset worth even one garrison. In fact the only Imperial presence at all was one holo-net relay station manned by a low level dignitary and his family.
When he reached the age of 17 an event that would forever change him occured. He had just finished running a supply of home spun tunics to his mother's shop and decided to take the family's late model Mobquet landspeeder for a little joyride. He gunned the throttle and pushed the speeder to it's limits, relishing the brief taste of freedom his respite gave him, and knowing just how quickly the moment would pass.
Cal drove until he was well beyond the city glow of Gamede and finally brought the vehicle to a stop at the crest of a large hill overlooking the town. It was here that he would take the time to stare at the stars and wonder what was out there. Occasionally there were a couple of shooting stars, and since his mother was highly superstitious and some of that rubbed off on him, Cal would wish upon them.
As he lay there on the speeders hood, he spotted two odd lights moving too slowly to be shooting stars, but far quicker than the communications sattelites that orbitted Tierfon. He pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars and set it's gain to maximum in order to see the objects as clarly as possible.
He had expected the craft to be a couple of the Z-95 Headhunters attached to the single squadron the Tierfon defense force boasted. But the direction and the time of day that the fighters were flying at now didn't make any sense.
The fighters were on a landing approach vector to the Durstil mountain range, a desolate area of Tierfon. The mountains had been tapped of their metal content years ago and the corporate sector mining operation had informed the general populace that the region was not worth the time and effort of the people for reclamation. Thus the Durstils were casually forgotten. It had been that way for as long as Cal could remember.
So why were the fighters going there now? And why so late?
His jaw dropped as the image solidified and suddenly his questions were answered. The fighters resembled Z-95s, but the quad ion drives and the four wingtip laser cannons were a dead give away.
Incom T-65s. X-wings. Rebel X-wings.
A lance of fear stabbed into Cal's stomach as all the stories he had seen on the holo-net of rebel attrocities swam in his mind. Rebel terrorists had destroyed Alderaan, and then shortly after a newly commissioned Imperial peace platform. Currently nearby systems were reporting that Imperial freighter convoys were being systematically destroyed by rebel starfighters and a task force had been commissioned to find and destroy the rebels.
So far, the task force had turned up nothing. The fighters would appear, eliminate their targets and vanish without a trace, leaving the Imperial Navy baffled.
Cal tracked the X-wings across the skies and suddenly felt a longing. The fighters may have been enemies, but they were so... beautiful. The sleek lines, the slightly forward canted wings... asthetically they were far prettier than the ugly TIE fighter eyeball design. Cal wondered what it would be like to get behind the controls of a T-65 and see what it was capable of.
Cal watched until the fighters performed a perfectly sychronized bank and dipped behind one of the peaks of the Durstils. A million different emotions and plans were crashing through his skull as he drove back to his family's ranch. The perfect opportunity to secure his scholarship had fallen into his lap. All he needed to do was inform the authorities.
As soon as the old Mobquet's engine cut off, Cal rushed into his home and ran to the family com unit. His fingers numbly keyed in the number for the law enforcement station. As he waited for an answer an odd but enticing thought speared into his mind. It was just a simple image of four ion engines burning a brilliant red in the night sky.
A deputy at the enforcement station picked up and Cal deactivated the com before the man could utter a word. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he knew that his only chance to see a T-65 up close rested on secrecy. Something that would disappear the second the authorities sent a patrol out to investigate. Plus from what the news on the holo-net said about the rebels, they might well destroy Gamede in retribution for having their base exposed. It was strange, but somehow Cal didn't consider that option as very likely.
No. He would keep it a secret and investigate the Durstils on his own. Needless to say, Cal's sleep was very restless and filled with vivid dreams that night.
Cal had decided to undertake his mission at the end of the week. He had fed his parents a cover story about going camping with a few friends for the weekend, leaving him two days to explore the mountains without arousing suspicion.
That week in school had been the longest of his life. He drifted during his normal classes and the only excitement came from having sim-duels with his friends after class in Gamede's only arcade. It was here that Cal met the woman that would one day become his wife.
She was gorgeous on a galactic scale, milky white skin, piercing blue eyes and shoulder length brunette hair. She had transferred to Cal's school earlier in the week and had immediately garnered the reputation of an outsider. She was quiet, outside of class but during galactic civics she was a firebrand. She spoke freely, openly and at great length about the shortcomings of the Empire. The faculty didn't bother reporting her to anyone, deciding that it required less paper work to simply chalk her attitude and views to youthful exuberance and naivettie.
Her name was Mina Wexler, and when Cal wasn't thinking about the hidden T-65s he was thinking of her. He would see her around and had even signed one of her "Free Rodia Now!" petitions just to get closer to her. Cal was one of the popular kids and he drew a little flak from his teammates about his infatuation with the "rebel girl", but Cal remained undaunted in his pursuit.
After he had cleanly waxed all of his friends in the sim-duels, Cal screwed up his courage and walked over to the table where Mina was sitting.
Their introductions had been brief and awkward. Cal did little more than listen to Mina as she talked for hours about her mission to expose Imperial attrocity. Cal was so entranced with her beauty and drive and spirit that he heard little of what Mina said. She had noticed him drifting and said something about having an Ithorian grandmother to see how much attention he was paying her.
She laughed as he fumbled his way through an excuse, and Cal melted at the melodic sound. Little did he know, Cal was absorbing Mina's radical information. It began to make sense to him and he wondered just how much of her ravings were true.
The moment for his expedition finally came and Cal loaded up his meager supplies and headed for the Durstils. After hours of fruitless searching, he decided to take a break on a small plateau. Just as he was unwrapping a ration bar he heard the unmistakable sound of blaster safety clicking. He felt the muzzle of the weapon dig into his shoulder blades and suddenly the world went dark as a black cloth sack was placed over his head. Cal was dragged away into the shadows with his binders shackling his wrists and fearing for his life.
He felt himself roughly slammed into a chair and had to blink as the hood was torn away and a harsh floodlight was beamed into his eyes. His captors were constantly cloaked in shadow and began interrogating him. He was able to acertain that he was in some kind of cell, but beyond that he had no idea if he was even on Tierfon anymore.
The interrogators poked, prodded and threatened Cal to try and get some kind of information from him about why he was wandering around in the mountains, what he was looking for and more importantly, who had sent him.
He told his story over and over again until finally his captors left the room. Another hour passed and Cal jumped as the door to his cell whisked open. The floodlight was deactivated and the normal glow panels flickered to life. His eyes adjusted and then widened at the sight of his visitor.
Mina Wexler.
She was clad in an orange flight suit with the alliance insignia patched on her left shoulder and by the look in her eyes, she was not at all pleased to see him.
She explained to Cal that the only reason he was still drawing breath was that she had pulled a few serious strings. She had convinced the base commander to place Cal in her custody. Cal learned that Mina was actually a rebel intelligence officer charged with the task of finding and recruiting those on Tierfon sympathetic to the alliance cause.
Mina gave Cal two options: 1. Join the fight to rid the galaxy of Imperial tyranny. Or 2. Spend the rest of the war or the rest of his life in the cell he currently occupied. The decision had been obvious.
During the next year and a half, Cal led a secret life. By day he performed his normal day to day duties. But by night, Mina trained him to be a weapon. She taught him basic hand to hand combat skills, and marksmenship. He learned tactics and procedures of Imperial soldiers, intelligence gathering methods, and most importantly of all; Starfighter combat.
Cal quickly became a highly competant and proficient fighter pilot, racking up sim numbers on par with some of the best the alliance had to offer. Before he knew it Cal was standing in the hangar bay of the Tierfon fighter base staring at the object that had fueled him on his quest into the Durstils in the first place.
An Incom T-65 X-wing Starfighter... His starfighter.
That first training flight was one that he would remember for the rest of his life. Chasing Mina through the Durstil canyons, looping and arcing all over the sky, and shooting training drones on the dark side of Tierfon's second moon. It was an experience that he relived every time he fired up the fighter's engines.
With his training completed, Cal was inducted into the rebel alliance and assigned to Blue squadron, the base's primary defense and patrol group. It was the proudest day of his life, but bittersweet in the fact that he could never tell his family or what few friends he had left.
Fate however would shatter the thin barrier of secrecy that shielded Cal's lives from one another.
An Imperial counter-espionage agent had learned of a possible rebel stronghold on Tierfon and had immediately signaled for the task force to come and investigate.
The alliance base went dark. Patrol flights ceased for fear of discovery and summary ahniliation from the task force, and all personnel were ordered to hole up in the hastily constructed shelters deep within the Durstils.
Cal and Mena had been in Gamede at the time of the alert and watched with growing concern as more and more of an imperial presence was established on Tierfon.
Squads of stormtroopers patrolled the streets. Curfews were imposed, citizens suspected of collaborating with the rebellion were rounded up and placed into internment camps or disappeared entirely.
Cal watched helplessly as citizens were dragged from their homes, beaten, shot, or conscripted into the imperial ranks.
He wanted to fight, to blindly charge into the ranks of stormtroopers and try and kick them off his world, but Mina kept him in check. They would be of no use to anyone if they were captured or killed.
They spent the better part of a week playing cat and mouse with the Imperial patrols until Mina recieved a short-burst coded transmission from the alliance base. The message was was but one word.
Evacuate.
It made sense. It wasn't a question of if the base was discovered, it was a question of when. After a harrowing escape from Gamede, Cal and Mina returned to the fighter outpost to find it in a state of organized chaos.
Shuttles, transports and fighters were being prepped for launch. Tech crews scurried about performing last minute checks on all the craft before hustling into their designated escape ships only to wait and pray.
The alliance commander reasoned that escape was possible. The Imperial task force consisted of a Victory II Star Destroyer and two Lancer picket ships in loose orbit in the skies above. A relatively small amount of force, but enough to decimate the two fighter squadrons and handful of support ships housed in the base.
They would wait until the task force's orbit took them to the far side of Tierfon and then it would be every ship for themselves with the fighters providing as much cover as they could.
The word was given and the alliance craft burst from the hangar like a swarm of angry insects. Blue and Red squadrons assumed a tight cover formation around the fleeing transports and all seemed as if they might actually make a clean break.
The Imperial's had been caught off guard, but their response time was immaculate. As soon as the rebel ships were detected the task force burned for high orbit in an effort to cut them off from their hyperspace vectors.
In a manner of seconds the Victory disgorged it's TIEs and the X-wings of Red and Blue squadrons broke to engage.
The alliance fought valiantly but it became clear to Cal that they were slowly being overwhelmed. Within the first five minutes of combat Cal had achieved five kills, but there was no time to rest on laurels. A sharp bleating from his target acquisition software notified him that a squadron of Assault Gunboats had entered the system and were closing fast.
The Gunboats with their heavy compliment of missiles could make short work of the small alliance convoy from long range. Cal knew this, the Imperials knew this, and the alliance commander knew this. The time for heroism was over.
When all was said and done, only thirty-five percent of the alliance support ships made it to the rally point just outside the Tierfon system. Only six out of the twenty four fighters remained, Cal and Mina among them.
Cal would later find out that the city of Gamede was leveled from orbit by the Imperial task force to set an example to other would be traitors.
With a last look at Tierfon's primary, Cal eased a lever forward and disappeared into the mottled pink and purple swirls of hyperspace, leaving behind almost everything that he had known and loved. Forever.
Cal and Mina were later assigned to the Nebulon-B frigate Larkhness and spent much of the war before Endor engaging in diversionary strikes against lightly defended Imperial assets all over the outer rim. During this time they had grown very close, both of them denying promotion and reassignment to be with each other. Both deeply in love, but both terrified that someday one of them would go on a mission and not come back. With the impressive numbers the pair racked up during their mission, alliance command couldn't find a reason to split them up and didn't fault them for the path they walked.
After participating in the Battle of Endor, Cal and Mina decided to throw caution to the wind. In a small and strange ceremony on the forest moon the two were wed by an Ewok shamaan and held each other watching the remains of the second Death Star burn up in a brilliant pyrotechnic display. For the first time since the flight from Tierfon, Cal felt at peace.
For a time all in the universe was right and just. Cal was contemplating resigning his commission and settling down somewhere with Mina to raise a family. Those plans were shattered with the arrival of Thrawn.
During the fight for the Bilbringi Shipyards, Cal and Mina became separated from their squadron and were quickly cut off. They fought desperately but the odds were against them as swarms of Ties enveloped them. Cal's X-wing took a direct hit that shredded the top starboard ion engine and sent him in a wildly uncontrolled spin. With all of his systems offline, and his fighter hurtling away from the battle, the Imperials ignored him.
Mina wasn't so fortunate.
Cal gritted his teeth together and worked frantically to get his com systems back on line. After suffering a few minor shocks, the communicator bleeped to life... just in time to hear Mina's final shriek of pain as her X-wing was obliterated.
Cal was numb and despondent long after the search and rescue team found him. The constant knowledge that he wasn't there for the woman he loved when she needed him the most ate away at him. He couldn't walk down the corridors of the Larkhness without being reminded of Mina, and his sleep was infested with nightmares of her final moments.
The only time he could concentrate was when he was in the simulator pods. His flight status had been revoked due to his mental state and Cal knew that he couldn't get revenge on the Imperials if he was grounded. So using the pain and anguish as fuel, Cal threw himself into trying to heal himself.
The pain never went away, but as time went on, he was able to suppress it enough to convince the Republic med-techs that he was fit to fly again.
When he was finally cleared for active duty, the Thrawn campaign had ended leaving the Republic Navy to mop up the few beligerant warlords that sprang up to fill the vacuum left from Thrawn's death.
Cal fought these battles with droid like emotion and found that no matter how many Ties he blew away, it was never enough, and it seemed as if the Republic was giving up on completely destroying the Imperial Remnant.
Cal became disgruntled with this new policy, convinced a tech to list his X-wing as destroyed in the Republic Armed Forces database and resigned his commission. He traveled to Nar Shadaa, and when he wasn't drowning his sorrow in alcohol he was flying mercenary combat missions for any squadron that would hire him.
With every sortie, Cal hopes that someday he will either redeem himself in Mina's eyes or join her in the great beyond.
Ship: T-65 X-wing with anodized black paint scheme.
Droid: R2-D8. Silver with red piping. Nicknamed "Ratchet."
Weapon: Blastech DL-18 Blaster pistol