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Colonel Hav Antiel walked slowly in the middle of one of the ISD Warrior's hangars. He was looking around at the full complement of TIE Interceptors, twelve of them, that had been pulled out of storage—or a museum, perhaps—to serve as his squadron's craft.
It had been an unconventional call from the CMDR. The Warrior's other squadrons had TIE Defenders, Gunboats, and Missile Boats, plus one inexplicable flight of Imperial Landing Craft. The TIE Interceptor was a craft from another era, from a time when the old Empire had endless waves of pilots and craft. Or so it seemed, at least. Antiel wasn't old enough to remember those days, but he'd heard the glamorized stories from his Uncle Garm.
"Am I crazy?" Antiel thought, looking around at the Interceptors in their racks, the ships he had chosen for his new squadron. His old squadron, Sin, had just earned the right to fly a new state-of-the art fighter, the TIE Sinister, with all of its bells and whistles, and shields, and missiles, and hyperdrives, and cupholders, apparently. Was there really room for these old fighters in the modern TIE Corps?
Antiel remembered the words in the TCCOM's message heralding the reactivation of Rho Squadron:
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Rho Squadron has been reforged as a Strike squadron of twelve TIE Interceptors. Their mission will be to defend the ISDII Warrior from any and all threats, doing so without the safety net and resulting carelessness that shields can foment. It's a bold choice, one that will demand the sharpest skills and constant vigilance.
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Choice words hung in Antiel's consciousness. Bold. Sharp. The carelessness that shields can foment.
"Are the ships to your liking, Admiral?"
Antiel turned to face the young crew chief who'd been assigned to Rho Squadron.
"That's 'Colonel,' now, Chapman."
"Yes, sir, of course," said the crew chief, a waver in his voice revealing his nerves.
Suddenly, Antiel was pulled into a rough, one-armed hug.
"Well, would you look at this," said Lieutenant Colonel Zekk Terrek, the commander of Sin Squadron. "I don't know what you did to Plif to make him stick you with these old rustbuckets, but it must be bad."
Antiel sighed, shook his head, and smiled. "'Rustbuckets?' They look pretty pristine to me, Zekk."
It was true. The TIE Interceptors were gleaming in the hangar. Antiel smirked as he looked around at them again.
"You're nuts if you're going to fly one of those, Hav," said Zekk. "That new dagger of yours isn't going to protect you from a concussion missile. How many laser hits can these things withstand, anyway?"
Ignoring LC Terrek, Antiel turned to his crew chief.
"Looks good from here, Chapman. Nice work. I'll bring my flight leaders through for a thorough inspection later today. Dismissed."
As the crew chief nodded and began making notes on a datapad, Terrek gave Antiel a friendly but hard shove.
"C'mon, Hav," he shouted as he jogged toward the hangar exit. "You gotta see my new ships!"
Antiel shrugged and chased after him, feeling more like a TIE pilot again with every passing moment.
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