Featherhead - final

Maedune held the little cardboard box, looking at it’s contents. Inside was a Sacrifice Medallion, a relatively new medal that the New Republic gave to its soldiers who had been wounded or killed in combat. He eyed it, a lush blue ribbon from which hung a golden circle bearing the stern likeness of both Bail and Breha Organa of Alderaan. He hefted it: anodized aluminum.

He had been seeing those two a lot lately. He had been standing, sitting really, in the bridge of the *Star Galleon*-class frigate that was owned and operated by Talon Karrde, smuggler chieftain extraordinaire, sitting because he was bound to a repulsor chair due to a heavily fractured femur.

Nearly a month before what would later be known as the Battle of Bilbringi Shipyards, Maedune had been wounded in a violent starfighter crash that had crippled him. The only member of the crew that was aboard at the time that did not sustain heavy wounds or simply die, was the craft’s co-pilot, a KX-series security droid designated K-3P9. Maedune had been the pilot of the U-wing, and had been carrying a contingent of Alliance Marines at the time, as well as the Wobanki door gunner, Warrant Officer Rhoro.

Rhoro had not survived the crash. He had been sucked out of the cargo hold on descent, and they had found the Wobanki’s body a few days later. Maedune hadn’t been the only survivor of course, another Marine survived, though his hand had been lopped off at the wrist at some point, probably on impact. He had mostly been in and out of consciousness immediately following the crash, but Maedune stayed by his side till the rescue party came. In the aftermath, the two hadn’t spoken and didn’t keep in touch. “Maybe I’ll look that Marine up someday,” thought Maedune aboard the bridge of the *Star Galleon*.

In the months leading up to the battle, Maedune had been what he called ‘between jobs.’ Really, he had been put on a pseudo kind of medical leave, occasionally returning to service, usually behind a desk of some kind, before being shipped back to Zenasia for time off to heal. They hadn’t discharged him simply because the New Republic was hurting for fighter pilots. Every warm body counted, especially now, as the campaign led by Grand Admiral Thrawn was in full swing, and things looked dire. As soon as the leg was healed, it was gears up for Maedune, back behind the stick.

On one of the most recent journeys back to the Republic military to assist in some bit of training, paperwork, or whatever it was that week, Maedune begged his Commanding Officer for something more to do. Things were getting worse by the day and everyone knew it, and Maedune was not going to just sit idle by. It took some finesse, and professional charm, but CO, to his credit, found something for the ruined pilot to do that was more than just hocking papers. Something important.

Maedune was a local, a Zenasian. Dressed like any other pilot looking for cargo, or even a ship. Work boots and cargo pants, worn leather jacket, and even a blaster rig, though he didn’t carry a blaster. What was inside was an N-37 slugthrower, a nasty piece of work someone had fit together for the job. He maneuvered his repulsor chair into the little cantina on his homeworld, a place he had grown up in and knew how to look the part, even with a busted leg. It was a little place called the Jade Mare cantina. A treacherous little hole in the wall that not many people went to for a legitimate drink. Disagreements and death were an hourly show some nights.

“Well, well, well,” said Aves, a blond haired, blue eyed human, something that stood out on Zenasia. Humans took up about 30% of the population of the planet, but most of them all looked relatively the same with bronze skin, brown eyes, and black hair. It had something to do with the human’s shared history with Zenasia’s zelosians a long time ago. This human did not belong, and everybody knew it. This same human had also happened to be the king of the Sabacc table that night. He continued. “What do we have here?”

Maedune tossed down two rectangular bars of local specie. He’s dealt in, studies his cards, before setting down a Three of Staves into the interference field. The man next to him did the same, putting down a Six of Flasks, before going to the next. Once that happened, a Sabacc Shift occurred, randomly changing the value in each of the players hands, unlucky for the people that hadn’t been able to save the cards they wanted. The round continues, Aves playing a Ten of Coins, and an old and grizzled looking smuggler playing a negative value Nine of Sabers.

A new round begins and cautious bets are placed. Aves, who had been pretending to study his cards murmurs to Maedune, “There’s a nice whorehouse around the corner if you’re interested in that kind of thing. Gods know you probably need it with that leg. Drop by cube thirteen, that one’s my favorite.”

Maedune ignores the man, before throwing out a Two of Flasks, right in Aves’ face. The man opposite of Maedune muttered an oath before tossing out another Ten, this time of Sabers. Maedune knew what was happening, and Aves knew what Maedune was doing as well. Another Sabacc Shift, and the round ended. The man that had been next to Maedune folds, causing the old smuggler to double down, throwing out his last card, supplementing the negative value Six of Coins he issued earlier with a negative value Seven of Flasks leaving his total at -22.

The old smuggler leaned back in his chair, showing a big toothy grin that had a golden tooth stuck in it, quietly laughing to himself, not seeing what was really happening on the table. Aves was next, playing his last card, a Three of Staves. Pure Sabacc. The old smuggler was a bit taken aback by this, but Maedune just looked bored and set down his last card. The Idiot.

“Winner is player four with the Idiot’s Array, beating player two’s Pure Sabacc!” bellowed the little floating dealer droid that wasn’t worth a damn to anybody that wanted to play the game for stakes higher than ten credits, but it’s what the cantina had. Maedune knew that just about everyone at the table was cheating in some way, but he also knew that he had done it better than everyone else. He swept up the pot.

The little old smuggler frowned, snatching up his glass, drinking down what dregs of Zenasian rot that was left inside. Maedune hovered out, leaving with the trio’s cash. Two hours later, midnight as agreed upon by the code given to him at the table, Captain Aeson Maedune taps the door to cube thirteen, three times. The man who opened the door was none other than Aves, the man at the Sabacc table from two hours before. He was also Talon Karrde’s chief aide and communications officer aboard the Wild Karrde. He let the cripple inside, where Talon Karrde himself was seated opposite of the door.

“Hello, Captain Maedune,” the smuggler chieftain muttered, “Congratulations at the Sabacc tables tonight, Aves was quite disappointed.”

Maedune tilted his head slightly, offering over the words of encouragement, “Well I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” said Karrde. He lifted himself to his feet, walking over to the Marine pilot. He offered out a hand, saying, “So, you are Princess Organa’s liaison, am I correct?”

Maedune took the charismatic smuggler’s hand in his own, pumping it several times. The description wasn’t entirely accurate, the princess had not ordered him to be there herself, but it was technically why he was there. “Yes Mister Karrde, I-”

The smuggler interrupted, “Please, just Karrde.”

“Karrde, of course. I’m here to help bridge the gap between the New Republic and the Smuggler Alliance on your mission to the Bilbringi shipyards.”

Maedune was back on the bridge of the *Star Galleon* known as the *Lastri’s Ort*, stuffing the Sacrifice Medallion back into its cardboard box. They were over Bilbringi, mixed in with the usual traffic that frequented the shipyards that were over the planet. The battle was soon to unfold, and nobody aboard truly knew what was about to happen except for Maedune. One of the sensor technicians spoke up, saying, “Hey Hullbuster, check this out.”

Many of the smugglers called him by the Marine’s unofficial title, ‘hullbuster.’ While Maedune had participated in hull breaching and infiltration operations with a *Katarn*-class shuttle in the past, he wasn’t really who they were talking about when they said ‘hullbuster.’ They were talking about the infantrymen who actually boarded vessels, earning their namesake with their tendencies to break open a ship’s hull to gain unauthorized entry. To those guys, Maedune was a ‘featherhead,’ the fly boy. It was all semantics, though, and everyone probably knew that, but it still bothered Maedune a bit.

He spurred his chair into action, hovering past the Captain of the *Lastri’s Ort*, a middle aged man by the name of Reineer, floating up to the sensor technician that called him over. As he approached, the technician pointed to the display, asking, “What do you think of this?”

An entire fleet of 24 Imperial Star Destroyers along with various support craft had jumped into the system. Maedune's head spun at the sight. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and the urge to throw up watered his mouth slightly. Fighting back the urge, he maintained as much composure as he could. The sensor display lit up with signifiers for Imperial starships as the technician called for Captain Reineer. The Star Destroyers were positioning themselves in a bowl formation, right around the position the Republic Defense Fleet was supposed to jump into the system.

Maedune had no way to warn the fleet, no way to stop what was about to happen. “A slaughter,” he thought, “the only way this could end.” He knew that the *Chimera* was the flagship of this fleet, and that Grand Admiral Thrawn was at the head of this ambush. One final blow to the New Republic was what was to come next. He only kept silent.

Some time passed before the New Republic assault fleet arrived. As soon as they jumped in, two *Interdictor*-class Star Destroyers maneuvered around the fleet to trap it in the encirclement.

The Republic was caught with their pants down, and trapped. Starfighter squadrons began to engage, with the New Republic assault fleet sticking to its formation. The first thing that happened was the outer support ships getting hammered by the various Imperial Star Destroyers that surrounded the fleet. Cohesiveness the Republic fleet had jumped in with was in danger of falling apart any minute. Maedune spied a *Katarn*-class shuttle, the kind he would occasionally fly with the Marines. It was on it’s way to meet the Imperial Flagship, *Chimera*. It was being escorted, and occasionally, a TIE fighter attempted to make a run on the little shuttle, but it was quickly shot down by one of the many X-wings and A-wings that guarded it.

Once the shuttle reached its target, the squadron of starfighters broke off. It headed for the shipyards, overshooting the blockade entirely. That’s when Maedune saw it, several Golan II battlestations were guarding the shipyards, relatively close to their position.

“We’re helping the Repub’,” announced Captain Reineer. “Gather our ships, once we have the CGT array, we’ll begin an attack run on the Golan II platforms defending shipyards before we jump out. Try to buy some time for Republic to get away.”

The crew all heard this and began preparations for the attack, announcing in commlinks, typing away on their holo displays and everything else they could do. The Republic squadron, which Maedune would later find out was none other than Rogue Squadron, streaked in, opening fire on one of the battlestations. It went dark, cascading in explosions in several places. The rest of the Smuggler fleet pushed off of the shipyards, opening fire themselves on the nearest Golan II. Soon, several of the ships were in broadside range, and the platform was destroyed without fanfare. Chaos erupted behind the lines as several Republic ships made their way into the opening that was created by the Smuggler’s fleet. In the last moments before *Lastri's Ort* jumped away into hyperspace, Maedune watched the little *Katarn*-class shuttle break away from the *Chimera’s* bridge strut, returning to *Home One*.