DS-115 Had set out 3 hours ago. Patrol duty from the Victory Class Star destroyer the Redoubt. They were supposed to keep an eye out for any activity. A special note was added to run by this sector for a research vessel that had missed its last check in. SL-216 had tried to pick up a conversation with him at DS-148 every now and then, but 115 knew that their helmet-comms where always recording and off-topic chatter was frowned upon during these missions. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to talk about. The destruction around him was enough topic for conversation. As were the narrow escapes they sometimes had to pull when the still unsettled debris moved unexpectedly due to collisions or the like. Most of all he wanted some distraction from the memories he had of visiting Alderaan with his parents, 8 years ago. His father had taken him climbing together with his brother. A great hike ending at the magnificent Cloudshape falls. They had killed a wolf-cat there, something that had greatly upset 115’s brother. Later they were thanked by a local nerf-herder. He remembered the arguments he had with his brother and father about it, somehow it always boiled down to order and stability. It brought him back to the duty he was to preform today. Keep order and stability on this site of destruction. He had questioned the compromises his superiors made for these ideals. Alderaan had been the most recent of these. 115 pondered over the explanation given so far until he was interrupted by SL-216 crackling over the comms.
“Got something on my twelve, going to check it out.”
He suppressed the urge to snap at 216 that not every floating corpse had to be reported and described as he had done with the last few occasions. 216 was a replacement, hailing from some Outer-Rim stinkhole. Such a shame the Empire had to resort to filling the ranks with the likes of him. At least he was human though. Barely.
“What the Kark! It’s a ship, A bloody spacetugg. Scavengers I reckon!”
Interference crackled and the howling of 216’s TIE became louder, 115 frowned inside his helmet as he turned the controls to set him on a course towards 216.
“Let’s blast that scavver to bits!”
216 laughed over the comms almost making 147’s call to converge inaudible. But 115 was already on it. They were the real team.
“147, Get a visual and report it to the Redoubt. If it is a tugger it’ll have a transport somewhere, Converging on your position 216.”
Standard protocol, 115 sighed to himself, all 216 could think about was blasting things to bits. Halfwit. Confirmed again by the sound of laserfire over the comms followed by:
“Whoa! Fucking thing reversed huh? Just you- Ho, the thing has a tracto-“
Fantastic to hear him have the comms open for that. It costed all of 115’s restraint not to answer in sarcasm. Luckely he was occupied a moment later, when he rounded an asteroid and saw 216’s TIE break out of tractor beam range and narrowly avoid an asteroid. 115 peppered the rock the scav was in front of with laser bolts, but the thing was agile in its own way. At least from this distance.
“Got the visual, turning round. Happy hunting.”
115 thought he could make out the start of the word ‘Moron’ as 147 broke turned round in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t help but smile, hunting a spacetug was somewhat of a challenge, but only if you overreached, like 216 did. The thing had already maneuvered behind an asteroid to avoid fire, but 216 was turning around.
“I’ll drive him your way. Don’t fuck up this time rookie”
He hadn’t said it or he could see something glint in front of him, farther away than the quadjumper was. He didn’t have it sharp in view by the time he had to round and asteroid and only after he cought a glimpse of the quadjumper he was chasing he could discern a spaceship momenteraly. Was that a Cutlass fighter?