Prologue

Dragons




        Dragons

        The word alone conjures up many a image of mighty lizard beasts that can fell entire armies and vanquish kingdoms and empires in a single night. By it the frightening Karnex Dragon or the Ubese Thorn-Back War Dragon, the terrifying Krayt Dragon and Basiliskan, the strange beauty of the Menagerie Dragon and the Battle Hydra, or the strange mysticism of the Duinuogwuin, these great lizardss are inspiring thoughts to have...

        So why have they all vanished?

        Some remain, such as the Krayt, the Hydra, and the Karnex, but... it would seem that every great drake in the galaxy has vanished, leaving only stories behind about the wonders the great monsters of old were capable of. Even if they are not here, their legends persist..... and they have most assuredly inspired, for someone in the Rebel Alliance was able to find a way to use the image of terrifying behemoths to his advantage.





        "Haha, read 'em and read!" A female Duros in a pilots uniform shouted a laugh as she slapped down a winning Sabacc hand onto the card table, on top of the prize, a pile of credits. Around them were pilots, work crews, and regular crew of their headquarters, along with players who quit after this got too rich for their tastes. Her opponent, a male Tiss'shar in a similar uniform, looked at the game with a inquisitive claw to his chin. This is his first full exposure to the game, so this is a learning experience. 

        She laughed again, as did her work crew. She reached for her winnings, only for her opponent to stop her in her tracks by putting his own paw on it, which confused her. "What? I won." She said. 

        "I'm afraid not." He said, his voice surprisingly deep for a lizard so frail-looking. "I may not have played the game before today, but i have watched and read. And i think..." He put down his hand, which trumped hers by a landslide. "...i won."

        The Duros, and her crew, were in shock, and her mouth hung wide open. How in the world- how in the world, who in the world--- "WHAT?!" She shouted, this time in aggravation. She looked to him with a stunned flabbergasted look painted on her face. "How is someone completely new to this game this lucky?"

        "I don't know, but i am doing good for a newcomer." The Tiss'shar chuckled as he pulled his winnings towards him. "Could be what you call Beginner's Luck."

        "If that existed, i'd actually have won my first game." She commented as she pulled the cards towards her and started shuffling. "So what do you say, best 6 out of 7?" The Tiss'shar rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head in a chuckle. She must really love losing money. 

        Before she could deal out the cards, the lights suddenly turned red and klaxon's began to blare. That was the signal everyone on this ship knows: it's time to go to work. Having memorized what they should do like clockwork, the crews wasted no time in running off to their duties, for this was a matter of life and death after all.

        Stuffing his winnings in a bag and tying it up, the Tiss'shar tossed it towards his bunk as he and the Duros grabbed their helmets and followed their crews out of their quarters.






        One race that is as mysterious as the Dragon are a group of individuals across the galaxy known by a singular name: Daredevil. 

        For some strange reason unknown to almost everyone who knows them, Daredevils do not live safely as most anyone would love to do. Daredevils live for the thrill; they live for the excitement, the chase, the fight; the more dangerous it is, the more fired up they can get, and will often cause trouble to get that excitement, by it a barroom brawl, stealing a ship, or joining the army, just as long as they can feel the juices in their blood flowin'. Be definition, a Daredevil is a reckless person who lives for danger.

        The purest form of the Daredevil is that of the Daredevil Pilot, where their love of danger is taken to the extreme. Most normal pilots would avoid hazardous terrain such as planetary rings, toxic atmospheres, and the disc of black holes. Not them- like everything else in life, they live for the excitement, for the thrill, to have faced death- looked into his eyes- and spat in his face. Truly, they can perform anything.

        Such is the case with Dragon Company, a squad in the Rebel Alliance comprised entirely out of Daredevils. Due to their dangerous nature, they've gotten a reputation and have been given the nickname, 'the Death Teasers', as most of their missions involve teasing Death. It's even more evident in how they fly and how they fight: reckless, dangerous, and life-threatening to both sides. 

        Just the way they like it.

        That is why they operate alone. 




        The Duros and the Tiss'shar entered the chaotic hanger bay, which was already alive in activity as the work crews readied their ships. They could see their wingmates already here, ready to fly, but they can't until the briefing, which are always brief.

        "Hey, Do-sinla-lynde!" A male Duros shouted from behind as he approached the pair. He approached, putting each arm around their shoulders. "Think you can handle one of these beasts?" He gestured to the many starfighters the Rebellion has at their disposal. "They're far different then what you're used to."

        The Tiss'shar took the Duros's arm, took it back over his head, and sent it back to owner. "I can handle it better then you, dullstone." The Nikto grinned, giving Do-Sinla-Lynde a hard pat on the shoulder that hurt a little before he walked on past. "And i told you to call me Dosil- it's easier for everyone that way!" The Duros just gave a "friendly" wave as he continue to walk away. "I'd be amazed he memorized  my full name if he wasn't such a prick."

        "I blame the Descent Ghetto." The female Duros exhaled through her nose.

        At the far end of the hanger, the rest of their squad was gathered in front of a holo-screen projected by the ships tactical R2 unit. IN front of it was their flight lead, a very gruff, chiseled, and portly human man who has done enough to earn the respect of his squad. He may not be as wild as he was in his golden years, but he is still Daredevil enough to lead this crazy lot.

        The holoscreen showed a single freighter surrounded by stellar debris and a Imperial ship. "Alright, Drakes, listen up! A few minutes ago, we've received a transmission from the pirate Galinda, who has found herself in a nasty pickle: a Star Destroyer demanded to inspect her cargo and she refused. She fought back, and her engines are damaged and she cannot hyperspace out. She has found refuge in a asteroid field, and it's up to us to save her butt." Now that got the blood pumping; dogfights in a asteroid field? They can't wait.

        "We're going into a asteroid field to save a pirate?" Dosil whispered to the female Duros in a hushed voice.

        "Galinda's not a part of the Alliance, but she provides us with information and supplies, for a price." She responded in a equal tone.

        "Alright! All pilots, to your ships! Double time!" The pilots all ran to their ships. "The longer we take, the higher Galinda will raise our asking price!" They were already gone. He turned on his wrist communicator and spoke into it as he headed towards his own ship while the R2 rolled on away back to the bridge, "Papa Dragon, this is Alpha Drake. We're preparing to launch. What's the status outside?"

        "{We've reached the edge of the asteroid field and we can see Galinda's ship, but... there's so many rocks here, i don't think we'll be able to provide covering fire against that Victory.}"

        "A Victory? We may not need the Wyvern for this fight. If it's a Victory, it won't be a match for us."

        "{Famous last words.}"

        The human grabbed his helmet and clapped it on. He walked over to his X-Wing, which had been painted to give off the appearance of a howling dragon with bared teeth, just as fuel pumps came off it. His ship was right next to Dosil's ship, which is an odd and new craft in the Rebel Alliances arsenal: the I-7 Howlrunner, a new craft created by the Incom Corporations, the same company responsible for the Rebel's signature ship, the T-65 X-Wing. While a meter shorter then its more popular sistercraft, the Howlrunner is faster then it and the Tie Fighters combined, matching speeds and maneuvers with an A-Wing, at the cost of less armor. Due to its simplistic design, it's been given the nickname the 'Flying Brick'.

        As the cockpit to his X-Wing hissed open, he looked to their newcomer. He never saw Howlrunners in action; Incom supplied the Alliance with them only a month ago.  He's heard good things from other pilots and he'd prefer their newcomer use a ship he's familiar with, but this is the only one with a cockpit big enough for his saurian frame. "Are you sure you can handle one of these things, bookkeeper?" He asked the theropod. "This isn't like one of those Tiss'shar ships back on your home planet."

        "I can handle a Howlrunner, captain." Dosil said as he sat down in the seat. Just like the leads ship, and every other ship in their company, it had been painted to resemble a howling Dragon; to be more specific, that of the Lesser Krayt; gotta keep that brand name. "I spent time familiarizing myself with the controls."

        "Ok. Just don't say i didn't warn you." He climbed up the ladder to his cockpit, then kicked it away before sitting down. As he did, the lights in the hanger bay turned red and a bell rang, signaling to the work crews to move out of the way. All ten fighters in the squad lurched forward as the rail all their crafts were attached to began to turn individually. 

        As helmets were clamped on, fuel pumps were detached, and cockpits closed, the wall on the far side of the hanger bay began to open. Soon, all eleven ships within were facing out towards the gaping maw of space as the rail system began to hiss with steam. The ships lurched again as the red lights turned green.

        "I've always loved this part." The male Duros giggled over the radio. 

        Seconds later, the catapult system LAUNCHED them out of the hanger like a projectile from a railgun, right out of the left wing of a highly-modified MC80 Liberty which, of course, was painted like a howling Dragon. Out of the right wind came eleven more fighters, bringing the full squad layout up to twenty. That is 6 X-Wings, 7 A-Wings, 4 Y-Wings, 2 B-Wings, and 2 U-Wings to provide support, and the Howlrunner makes twenty-two. 

        The huge compliment of 22 Starfighters made a sharp turn and headed straight towards the asteroid field. Ahead, they could see the Victory-Class Star Destroyer and its Tie compliment harassing a YV-929 Freighter; Galinda's ship, appropriately named Galinda's Vitriol. 

        The leads X-Wing took up formation in front of the pack. He cracked his neck and flexed his fingers. "Alright, Dragons!" He shouted into his comm, almost like a scary instructor at a military camp. "We got ourselves a pissed off pirate and the Victory that's harassing her! What are we going to do?!"

        "{Make them fear the Dragon!}"

        That's the stuff he likes to hear. "Mm-hmm. Damn right, we are!" He pushed the throttle all the way forward. "Now let's make them feel the fear!!" He pressed a button on the side.

        The engines on all the fighter craft flared into high gear, and like maniacs in high-octane vehicles, they all sped off into battle, ready to start their day the right way.

        The Daredevil way.









 

Star Wars
Dragons of Liberty