I POURED through TONS of these manuals in trying to find an actual diagram of buttons for a Lambda-class shuttle so I really winged it here, and HOPE it seems logical. There were definitely scenes in here that were a little more challenging. You can be the judge. HERE WE GO...

【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ： ＤＳ－１　

Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ　Ｂａｔｔｌｅ　

Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

Ｓｕｂ－ｌｅｖｅｌ

Ｍａｉｎ Ｈａｎｇａｒ　１８３０】

LIEUTENANT...

"Lieutenant!"

A sharp pain lanced through her skull, shapes starting to configure. She winced with a moan, the fogged hazed, dissipating. "Wha... what?"

  She blinked hard, trying to reorient herself as her surroundings gradually sharpened into focus.

"Lieutenant!"

Blaster fire. Smoke unraveling into the air. A fried control panel sparking...

The scream of a blood-red blade raptly cut through the air in a wide arc with a bolt rebounding. Dozens of personnel dove behind crates of cargo while others grabbed blaster rifles racked by the door. Bodies fell when a monsoon of stormtroopers marched in, firing at will; shouts and cries echoing as last breaths were taken.

It was pure chaos.

Klaxons blared in the background, the lights flashing like strobes in sync with the volatile thrum of her pulse. She remembered vaguely walking in before going airborne, the world eclipsing with a blindingly bright flash.

"Mac, cover my me!"

"Right behind you!"

V...Valara.

"M-Mac?"

   "Lieutenant, I need you up now!" a voice barked, another sweep of a plasmic blade lancing the air. She could practically feel the scorch of heat so close, before she was roughly grabbed and hoisted to her feet.

  "Captain Rex!" the hooded figure roared, "More troopers now we have rogues!" Teeth were bared at the handheld comm clenched in a gloved fist.

Vader?

"On our way General!" a voice crackled back.

"Lieutenant, I need you to get to my ship and get it outta here!" His tone was hardened like steel right as the world began to tilt. "Dammit Lieutenant if you value your life, that's an order!" This wasn't just Vader speaking, this was the Commander of the Imperial Forces, the voice of a warfaring General.

Adrenaline surged through her before a particle beam of light shot past her ear, leaving a scorched mark embedded in the wall.

  A gloved hand locked like a vice around her upper arm, "Move, I'll cover you!" dragging her forth.

The acrid stench of burning flesh permeated the air with a hint of ozone. She had to swallow the nausea, amplified by the throbbing at the back of her skull.

  She hurt.

  Vader dragged her dazedly behind him, right as a familiar blonde head rushed past. She turned her head in time to see Mac's broad form tackle a stormtrooper aiming a pistol blaster at Valara.

Valara had just tumbled to the ground, blaster in hand as she took aim, "Eat my dust rebel scum!"

Rebels: the battle station was under siege.

They'd been infiltrated.

"For the Rebellionnnnn!" A uniformed imperial she'd never seen dropped to her feet with a strangled cry.

  A rebel.

Ayen still disjointed, scrambled for the SE-14R blaster that left their grasp and slid across the floor, honed to make a kill shot like she'd learned in quarterly training.

  Vader whipped up a gloved hand sending several armed stormtroopers charging towards them—careening into a block of supply cannisters. Another rebel, disguised as a cadet, was cleaved in two by his hand. She barely had the time to process this before springing to her feet with a pained gasp.

In the heat of battle, her hands shook, not as well practiced in handling a weapon. It took her right back to the act of survival on her dustbowl planet, managing to pull back the trigger. A charged volt vibrated the web of nerves in her arm with an audible zap, the bolts sent flying.

One struck an armored trooper, others rebounding off the walls. Vader yanked her to the side as two bolts singed the ends of her hair, while he sent crates of equipment hurtling through the air, striking a band of personnel.

Behind, the blast doors tore open with the 501st Legion storming  through like a clap of thunder.

Vader shoved her underneath the shadow of the ship's base, Ayen keeping a death grip on the gun. The Lambda-class shuttle gleamed under the flickering lights and reflected fearfully in her eyes.

   "I can't fly you know this!" she blurted out in a panic, "I refused to even podrace for Watto, I only know how to fix ships!"

Using himself as a barrier, he shouted over his cloaked shoulder, "You're a technician, Lieutenant! You spent enough time to know the inner workings of this vessel!" He pulled her around, throwing a hand up as the hydraulics hissed with the unfolding of the ramp. "Now GO!"

She felt her body shoot forward as he used the Force. With a yelp, she dropped the gun, holding her hands out to brace for impact. Miraculously, she found herself unharmed and inside the hatch, the door closing behind her with a thud. For a moment, she paused to take a breath, trying to gain her bearings with a wild look around. The whole scenario was insane.

Zev and Mac would've had no problem figuring it out, given their dad was a former Republic pilot. Ceru, skilled in communications, would have managed because he'd worked inside of the ship. But her?! She didn't even know how to maneuver a damn transport! Sure, she'd used a paid speeder, but that was an entirely different model with simple navigation technique.

"If I don't get this right, he'll kill me."

Her hands twisted in her hair while eyeing the cockpit, standing in the neck of the ship with an airlocked door adjacent and the passenger section at her back. She'd only worked on the outer interior of this specific model. It still echoed of the prestige of the Galactic Empire, cold and ominous. With a ventilation shaft overhead, soft triangular blue lights glowed amidst assorted blinking panels.

Her boots echoed down the polished aisle as the walls converged with a panoramic viewport, providing an unobstructed view of the outside battle.

Hastily, she averted her gaze needing to stay focused. The layout was different from most she'd worked with: two rows of seats, with the pilot and co-pilot in front and the navigation to radio systems situated behind them. If recollection served, it required a team of at least six members to navigate. However, it was manageable for a singular pilot provided they possessed the necessary skills.

"Dank farrik, why did it have to be me?" She could feel the sweat drip from her brow, seating herself in the head pilot seat, the leather conforming to her like a glove.

Hands trembled as she surveyed the various buttons that lay before her. "Oh Force, please just let me get this right." Time was ticking, Vader solely depending on her to safely maneuver this ship out.

She focused on what she knew from the manuals, going over the list of tactile switches in her mind. The multifunctional displays embedded in the console provided crucial data on the navigation, sensor readings, and the ship's vitals. It appeared the auxiliary systems were already powered on. The primary power controls were luminescent and situated overhead.

  She overcame her reluctance, flipped the switches on, and felt the ship vibrate beneath her. It felt like her stomach would drop once gravity fell away.

Targeting systems, can't use that or I'd kill everyone. Ah—flight controls.

Fuel consumption was at full capacity; she had no excuses left. It was now or never. Swallowing hard, she prayed to whatever omnipresent being existed, briefly risking a glance out the transparisteel window at the shadow lingering on the fringes of her peripheral vision.

She had never seen anything quite like it...

  The scene unfolding was haunting while a mesmerizing blend of elegance in its brutality. The fiery blade which Lord Vader brandished, orchestrated a seamless transition of his overhand to under, choreographing a lethal dance with those foolish enough to confront him. His cloak rippled with each parried strike as death incarnate, thick fumes coiling around his formidable figure, a visual testament to the potent force propelled by his lightsaber with each fatal blow.

At that moment she took a breath, grabbed for the control yoke—

  Sending the ship rocketing backward, eliciting a visceral reaction, "AH, SHIIIIIIIITTTT!"

The sheer G-force nearly had her throwing up the last contents of breakfast as she was hurled back against her seat and into the chasm of space. Yet quick reflex allowed her to regain semi-control, adjusting the throttle and engaging the stabilizers to restore equilibrium.

Shaking like a leaf, she cupped her forehead with one hand, bracing an elbow against the intermittent panels to calm herself. Her heart rattled against her ribcage. She licked her lips, fighting back the bile that crested in the back of her throat.

She would not throw up, least of all in space.

"Just breathe, you did it." Though quite slovenly, his ship she'd spent an excessive amount of time repairing, was unmarred.

  Hopefully, he didn't witness that. Her groan became drowned out by the rumble of the great ship, floating there in the obsidian abyss clear of X-wing fighters.

So, the infiltration must've come from the inside.

She raised her head to gaze out at the expansive viewport, a safe distance from where she'd flown out. It was hard to discern the shifting silhouettes through the wall of fumes now congesting the docking bay with visible sparks.

She'd forgotten how spherically behemoth the battle station was, dwarfing the shuttle by comparison as it loomed over. A metallic labyrinth of plating reflected the ambient stars, trenches, and canyons spanning the infinite architectural design. Housing critical systems, the station served as a testament to its defensive capabilities, honed with weaponry forged to wreak havoc.

A giant mechanical heart of the Empire's own creation.

Her mind was calculating the number of ships this attack would set them back from the damage. She rubbed her temples wincing at the tenderness found at her upper crown. "Ah..."

She hoped she wouldn't be confined to a med bay after the severe blow taken to the head. All she could do was pray that Mac and Valara were alright, along with the rest of her crew.

Nauseous at the thought, a finger grazed the ring Ceru had given, glimmering in the cold starlight.

Please still be in mess hall or somewhere safe, Ceru.

Ceru wasn't nearly agile like Mac or quick on his feet like Zev, both of whom were adept because of their veteran father. He could handle a gun but not the results of its destructive force. His value on a life would cause him to hesitate and thus instrument his demise.

"Lieutenant, come in, Lieutenant."

That voice, sharp as it was intense—like a beacon in the thick of pandemonium. She fumbled for the commlink stashed inside her pocket, realizing the signal was bouncing off the surrounding satellites.

She pressed her thumb against the receiver, "Y-Yes I am here, Lord Vader."

"Lieutenant, I need you to listen to me very, carefully."

Oh, mother of moons, she could tell from his tone alone he had witnessed her plight.  "Okay..."

  "This hangars tractor beam was damaged, so you will have to guide the ship in manually..."

  She wanted nothing more than to bury herself under a rock.

Oh hells.

  Ayen squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before focusing on his stream of instructions. She moved her hands cautiously over the controls, attuned to the subtle shifts in his tone as her guide. With deliberate precision, she steadied the throttle, feeling the ship hum beneath her touch before lurching forward once again.

"Yes, ease on the controls, it's an extension of your arm. Remember it submits to your will. You alone control the speed and agility." His voice took on a deep tenor while the vessel gradually coasted back in with jerky movements, becoming once more engulfed within the colossal station. "That's it you're cleared for approach. Gently guide the tip in while entering the docking bay. Slow... slow... slow it's still missing a thruster." That explained the rigid movements. "Now, switch on the landing gear."

That's the knobbed button above.

She held her breath, her grip tightening on the controls as the ship wobbled through the haze. Each movement felt clumsy, and her heart pounded with every adjustment. Finally, with a jarring descent, the ship settled onto the ground when a sharp hiss escaped.

A reluctant confirmation of a barely successful landing.

"Holy kriffing shit, I did it." A smile quivered at the edges of her lips, matching her trembling nerves as she reached out, pressing the button to release the hatch. Despite the chaos around her, she felt strangely light-headed, her legs like jelly once she stumbled down the unfolding ramp.

She fell straight into a solid embrace that anchored her balance. Her neck tilted upward, meeting golden eyes that flared underneath the darkness of his shroud. It felt like her tongue had been glued to the roof of her mouth. One hand gestured to the ship while strange, dark spots started to percolate her vision. "I- I did it—right?"

She never heard his answer; the adrenaline leaving her just as suddenly as consciousness.

.... ....

Crisp lights nearly blinded her vision. She had to blink several times before the world shifted on its axis. Once more her conscious balanced, pulling her from the deep recesses of sleep.

A cacophony of sounds jolted her back to reality, accompanied by the sterile scent that stirred her senses. Diagnostic monitors beeped, their screens glowing as they recorded the steady wavelengths of a heartbeat. Blinking lines of data ran in synchrony, displaying a medical analysis of her anatomy.

By the void, these bays had no privacy.

She'd felt naked the first time she'd ever been prepped in a med bay before granted release. The same, nearly transparent gown adorned her petite frame under the exposure of a lit oval slab. The setting was disconcertingly similar to how Watto would display gadgets to droid parts on a luminous sandstone table.

She heard the hum of medical droids before she spotted them, the tang of bacta prevalent from a tank shoved in the corner.

Burnt blaster residue practically singed her nostrils. "Ugh..."

"She's awake!"

"Shut it Mac, she's clearly been through hell."

"And kinda looks like it."

"Wow, rude much, Wittar?"

"Ayen, it's Ceru, can you hear me?"

Oh, thank the stars.

Ayen blearily turned her head to see almond-shaped eyes soften. Black strands framed the corner of his eyes that crinkled in relief. "Thought we lost you there for a second."

She almost snorted, slightly anxious while reaching for his outstretched fingers. They were solid. Real. Her mouth felt like cotton contributing to her scratched voice, "S...survived worse... trust me."

Ceru's smile faltered before he nodded with a reassuring squeeze. "Glad to see that isn't the case. I just got to the mess hall before everything happened. Seems it's being determined whether this attack was an isolated incident."

"Yeah," Mac moved in beside him, propping an arm wrapped in a bacta patch beside the thin sheet draped over her legs. "Tarkins got this place entirely locked down. We've got to report in for a de-briefing soon." Noticing the direction of her gaze, he reassured her, "Just a flesh wound not tah' worry even my Dad would be proud. You just take it easy, chief, you hear?"

Her lips stretched in a small smile in response. "Go...t it."

Valara who had been leaning against the wall crossed her arms, stern. "Girl you are not allowed to die on us. Or I will find a way to resurrect your arse, you hear?"

"Easy there love, don't want to bust a vein." Mac chided lightly, knicking her shoulder as he passed.

Valara's brow rose, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. "Permission to kick his sorry arse?"

Ayen laughed lightly with a rasp. "Permission granted."

"Hey, ow! Is that how you treat your injured heroine?"

"Oh, I'll show you heroine, Wittar!"

With reluctance, Ceru got to his feet. "I better go too, should make sure those two don't get in trouble. It's a madhouse out there and officers are looking for excuses to detain."

"Is that why a med droid hasn't checked on me? I see them buzzing around."

Ceru frowned, a heaviness to his gaze, "You were out when they took care of the basics. You're lucky, no fractures sites. The place is packed on the other side of this wall though. Many engineers returning from the mess were wounded, some with fatal injuries.

"Damn," Ayen murmured, no stranger to death but nevertheless troubled by the news, "Yeah, of course, go."

"Thanks, Ayen, I'll try comming later to fill you in!"

He hurried out as Zev, who had lingered silently in the background, assumed his seat. Sharp cobalt eyes reminiscent of his brother's, held an unusual weight while regarding her. "Hey, comrade," he smiled, albeit slowly. "Heard I missed quite the battle... I'm sorry I wasn't there. That's some wicked injury you had."

"Force, did they take a chunk out of my brain or something?" She joked, hoping to crack his usual veneer and ease the tension in his clenched jaw. She preferred to see laugh lines rather than the stressed, deep folds furrowing his forehead.

He ushered a barely audible laugh. "Nothing but a few scratches. Heard you were quite the badass. Finally gaining your wings there, A?" A crooked grin emerged on his face.

She snorted. Now luck decided to play on her side. It had only taken surviving a thermal detonator. "Hardly, just glad I landed in one piece."

  "Me too," There was a tender pat on her knee he followed with a wink, his smile fading. "Well, I've got to head out myself, love. Rest up, that's a Wittar order." The stud he only wore out of uniform, shined like a slick, onyx stone as he stood with a finger raised.

   Right at that moment, the Sith Lord himself walked in.

Ayen sensed an immediate shift in the room's atmosphere, the tiny hairs on her arms standing on end with the cloaked Sith immediately assessing Zev. Known for their stature, the Wittar brothers stood tall among various factions. So when Zev raised his chin to meet Vader's gaze, his nose barely a hair's breadth away, Ayen found herself holding her breath

To an outsider, it might have seemed harmless enough. However, the Supreme Commander, known for his tactical acumen in battle, radiated authority in that moment. His erect posture and wide-legged stance spoke volumes about his commanding presence.

He was waiting for Zev's formal address, while Zev was outwardly exhibiting his defiance.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. In that moment, Ayen feared for Zev's life, recalling the Sith's ominous warning regarding the officer. "Officer Wittar," she interjected quickly, "could you contact me regarding the briefing?"

Zev didn't even budge, intense stare fixated on the Sith still refusing to bow as he said, "Of course, Lieutenant."

Zev finally seemed to yield, and Ayen watched him retreat. The room dipped a degree, sending a shiver down her spine while she pulled herself upright.

A new rigidity infused his stance, the Sith observing Zev's retreating form before he turned leisurely. Crossing his arms against obsidian armor visible underneath his cloak, he stated, "A medical droid will be with you momentarily to update you on the concussion you suffered. We will reconvene in hangar 1831. I'll need you to file an action report, so report in when you are well-rested."

She nodded with a hard swallow.

Everything felt too fresh and surreal. One thing was certain: she'd need to talk to Zev about his conduct. He was asking for a death sentence, otherwise.

There was a stretch of silence before he added, "Your goggles have been returned to your quarters. For the time being my ship will be placed in your bay. It appears you require a few lessons."

Her brow rose in question. "But there are dozens of other hangars." Whether it was the drugs that had been administered, she blurted, "Wait, lessons? I prefer both feet on the ground."

His hood tilted down at her, "Lieutenant, after what was witnessed today, this is not up for questioning. Your comm has been given a direct line to mine. So, once you are granted release, report."

Am I about to get piloting lessons with the Darth Vader?

Shock threaded through her. He was the Emperor's Right Hand, and she was just a lowly technician.

  He must have sensed her trepidation because he was quick to add, "Lieutenant, this isn't up for negotiations."

"Even aggressive ones?" she hedged weakly, aware she was afforded his full ire because of her state.

You are not much of a negotiator are you?

"No, I am not."

"Wait..." She stared up at his towering form as pieces like that of a jigsaw puzzle snapped together. Multiple scenarios unraveled like a holo reel in her mind, leading to a sudden realization. "Did you—I mean just now—hear that? Is that another... ability?"

Could he mind read?

Amidst Vader's palpable irritation, an undertone of amusement emerged. It manifested in the subtle shift in his demeanor. She could've sworn there was a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Semantics, Lieutenant Ayen. There's the medical unit now."

He was gone before she fully registered the address of her actual name. This time, there was no hostility laced with it; instead, a strange warmth threaded through her chest as an FX medical droid aviated to her bedside.

What a battle right?

Comments on Ayens flying? 🤣

What did you think of Zev's conduct with Vader?

Ah Mac and his Casanova antics and Valaras sass...

Sweet Ceru, always considerate. The characters are really starting to come alive now.

Wonder what will happen now that the station was infiltrated from the inside. Oh boy we are getting into the thick of it now... or are we? Just you wait;)

Index

Bacta: a substance that was used to heal injuries faster. It can be found in tanks like Vader uses to heal his injuries once he's a cybernetic. It originated from the planet of Thyferra.

Comm: short for comm link or call in.