Seven worlds, a golden sun, and a blanket of twinkling stars. The Aranea System was pretty compared to most Rim systems, lacking the pollution and slapdash industry of first-wave colonization. It was an untouched, unclaimed jewel still ripe for the taking, its worlds a mixture of greens and blues and reds and purples. It was a shame that they would be marred by the touch of war.<br/><br/>At the system's edges, thirty-six starfighters emerged from hyperspace: twelve A-Wings, twelve X-Wings, and twelve B-Wings. Behind them, the graceful, organic curves of a Mon Calamari cruiser loomed. Commander Nal Thor of Rogue Squadron set his starfighter's strike foils to attack position.<br/><br/>'Rogue Leader to all units,' he rumbled, 'Maintain formation and speed and advance on the convoy. Call new targets as you see them.'<br/><br/>'Polearm Three to Rogue Leader, targets sighted. Sensor board tallies twelve TIEs already launched, with more coming out of the<span style="font-style: italic">Acclamators</span>. They've seen us.'<br/><br/>Thor checked the status on his weapons. All green. 'Acknowledged. Polearm, push on ahead and punch a hole.'<br/><br/>The A-Wings raced ahead, their speed still unrivaled by any of the Galactic Alliance's other fighter classes. A-Wing pilots were almost universally speed freaks and daredevils, a stereotype Thor knew was quite true, having served as an A-Wing jockey some years ago. As the A-Wings began their dance with the enemy TIEs, the Rogues and Novas pushed forward, torpedoes armed and ready as the convoy's Corellian corvette escorts opened fire.<br/><br/>'Brain,' Thor said to his R2 unit, 'get me some evasive maneuvers. A bit of dodging here and there, but not so much that I lose my target.'<br/><br/>The droid beeped in affirmative, taking control of the stick as the distance counter ticked down. Thor's X-Wing maneuvered erratically, sideslipping, pitching and yawing in an attempt to dodge the incoming laser fire. He diverted his discretionary power to fore shields and centered his targeting brackets on the nearest corvette. The brackets glowed yellow--a torpedo lock. He pulled the trigger, as did many of his fellow pilots. Over a dozen blue streaks shot forth, converging on the corvette. Overwhelmed, the small ship's shields gave way as multiple direct hits tore its hull open.<br/><br/>'Good kill, ladies and gentlemen,' chirped Nova Leader, a Mirialan by the name of Alia Hess.<br/><br/>And then the Rogues and Novas were among the transports, a pack of predators amidst livestock. Thor could see the telltale blue blurs of starfighter shields being evened out. The B-Wings converged on the transports, ion cannons firing. Meanwhile, the X-Wings had another job to do.<br/><br/>'Leader to Rogues, break by wingpairs and engage at will. Keep the enemy off Nova.' Thor switched to lasers as a pair of enemy Interceptors turned away from the furball with the A-Wings. He opened a comm channel to his wingman. 'Cut to the left, I'll take the leader.'<br/><br/>The two X-Wings turned away from the enemy's transports to intercept the incoming TIEs. Thor spitted one on his crosshairs. The brackets glowed green--a laser lock. Almost immediately, his trigger finger flexed. To his port side, Deuce did the same, shearing one of the Interceptor's solar wing panels off. The fighter spiraled out of control, slamming against one of the corvettes. Thor's shot was more surgical, the quad-linked blasts spearing the target's cockpit. The ruined, empty Interceptor flew straight on, dead in the void. The squints* didn't even make a token effort to dodge. Amateurs. Daala was so short on skilled pilots that even her Interceptors were crewed by rookies. No Interceptor pilots worth their salt would have attempted a head-to-head with an equal number of X-Wings.<br/><br/>In the distance,<span style="font-style: italic">Rebel Yell</span>began firing on the enemy assault ships, its ion cannons and turbolasers wreaking havoc on the smaller vessels' shields. Thor saw an ion blast penetrate the leading<span style="font-style: italic">Acclamator's</span>shields and hit its port side, frying delicate electronics and causing a chain reaction which blew a line of explosions across its hull. Good. Everything was going according to plan so far.<br/><br/>'Deuce, how are we doing?'<br/><br/>'I'm Corellian, boss. This is my natural habitat. Well, besides the nearest cantina.'<br/><br/>Thor snorted in amusement and turned his attention back to the fight, guns blazing as he and Blenner dove in towards another<span style="font-style: italic">Assassin</span>corvette, ready to repeat the deed performed on its late cousin.