By: Geri Kittrell June 2003

story takes place —currently



Deep within the Corellian Highlands, in a small cantina, known by the locals as Green Man’s Tavern, the tiny back room was filled to capacity with a clandestine gathering of old friends and former comrades.

Kirienne NigheanSidhe, who was once known as Kirienne Solo, sat quietly, listening as she drank her dark, nut flavored ale.

She listened as former comrade Tierrie Dodonna spoke of plans.

Tierrie, who is the grandson of renowned Alliance General Jan Dodonna, along with Khylan Therra and Tait Roibhlin, had recently left the privateer unit known as Warriors of Bedlam; which was founded by some of the surviving members of SilverFlight which had been an Alliance Special Operations

Flight Unit —until massive casualties in a mission had brought an end to the unit.

The three men had not been able to forget the ‘fire’ that had seemed to burn in the hearts of all of SilverFlight, the ‘fire’ that the unit’s flight leader, Kirienne had ignited the day the unit had been formed. They longed to feel that ‘fire’ again, and to, once more, know their lives had purpose.

Tierrie; a soft- spoken man, had found a couple of Riddari warriors from the mysterious Isle of Rionnag, and several men right there in the Corellian Highlands, who were willing to form

a new group of freedom fighters to take up where SilverFlight had left off. They had contacted Leith Dakale’, a retired Alliance Admiral, who had been the commanding officer of SilverFlight. They had invited him to the meeting, in hopes of convincing him to come out of retirement and command the new unit. They hoped that his wife, Torin, who had been one of SilverFlight’s doctors, would join as well.

In the past weeks many plans had been laid and decisions made, the new unit even had a place to call home; they had been given a small somewhat rocky, barren patch of ground deep in the Highlands, it was large enough for a keep, which would have to be built, and a landing pad for their ship.

They had a ship, the Gypsy Rover —a ship belonging to SilverFlight was at the moment, undergoing a major repair and refitting —it would soon be known as The Freedom’s Fire. All that remained was convincing Leith to command them, and Kirienne to give her blessings and permit them to carry her banner into battle, and perhaps join them for an occasional mission.

Leith Dakale’ sat sipping his goblet of well-aged, Corellian brandy as he pondered all the plans that had so far been laid out. He knew in his heart of hearts that before the sunrise he would once again command a unit of freedom fighters. He had come to realize, from his many discussions with Kirienne, that he could not continue to run and hide from his destiny–that destiny was about to ‘catch him up’. He and Torin gave each other a knowing glance, for she too had not been content in retirement.

"Well now," Leith finally asked, "is it your intent to re-join the Alliance?"

"No Leith," replied young Tierrie, with a new found maturity, "We’ll remain independent, the missions we take will be of our own choosing, on a mission by mission basis."

He looked into Kiri’s pewter eyes as he continued, "we know things can never be like they were before, in the time of SilverFlight."

"I see," said Leith, with a mischievous twinkle in his bright blue eyes, as he squeezed Torin’s hand underneath the table.

"Well," he paused, taking a long sip from his goblet which had just been refilled, "I’d be honored tae once again command

the likes of you lads."

The cheers that erupted from that small backroom were loud, but went un-noticed by the rest of the tavern’s raucous customers.

Tierrie, Tait and Khylan exchanged relieved smiles. The first obstacle had been overcome, but the second and perhaps most difficult still remained.

Kirienne remained quiet and still as she gazed deeply into each set of eyes, as if judging the conviction of their hearts; finally she spoke quietly and deliberately, impressing on them each word. "I ken ye do follow your hearts, and yer aim be true as ye again take up the path of your destiny, realize you must that things can ne’er be the same as they were —for the time of SilverFlight is now past. I canna shield ye from death, if that’s wha the dance has in store for ye. I canna plan yer strategy–ye must manage on the merit of your wits and battle skills. Nor can I ever take any of you across the veil to join meself and the others I were allowed to take.

I can offer a wee bit of protection so long as it interferes not with yer fates. I will fly an occasional mission with ye, but must do so

on me own ship-for the ship of mortals can never again be me battleground."

Tierrie moved to her side, took one of her hands in his, kissed its knuckles gently and knelt before her. He spoke as the others looked on hopefully.

"My Lady Kirienne, who was once SilverLeader, we understand all that you say. We have never forgotten the fire you ignited in our hearts as you taught us how to fight for what we believed in, and we never will. We ask only that you give us your blessings and allow us to name the unit in your honor, Kiri’s Own."

Kirienne signaled the young man to rise and take his seat before she answered. "Me friends, ye be the truest comrades I could have ever known, and it is true, nothing of our time together is forgotten, nothing can ever be forgotten. I do give ye my blessings,

I shall provide a bonny banner for ye to carry into battle, and me

heart dances that ye would honor me so. From this moment on, be known as Kiri’s own, of the ship Freedom’s Fire.

With a wave of her hand, a mether of gold, filled with honey mead appeared in the center of the table, she drank from it and passed it around the table. As each of them drank from it, they were treated to a short vision of a time some years ago when SilverFlight was at their happiest, and boldest.

When the mether was drained, they shouted a war cry loud and

pure, "FREEDOM"





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