//------------------------------//
// May the Flutter be With You 
// Story: Flutterperial 
// by shortskirtsandexplosions 
//------------------------------//

	"We have successfully blockaded the Rebel forces, Grand Admiral!" shouted a well-manicured helmsman, seated at his post.

His thrown voice echoed against multiple metallic bulkheads forming the rigid framework of the Executor's bridge.  Beyond the forward windows of the Super Star Destroyer's Command Platform, an epic battle erupted across the stars, peppering the ionosphere of Endor's Moon with countless bursts of bright orange explosions and laser fire.  In the distance, beyond a hapless fleet of Mon Calamari cruisers, the partially-constructed Death Star loomed like a dull gray spotlight over the frenzied battle.  The space station's shadow hung grimly over the pale-white clusters of triangular Star Destroyers moving in to intercept the ambushed Rebels.

"Our sister ships have reported return fire!" the helmsman continued.  "We have officially engaged the enemy in Sector Forty-Seven!"

Another officer at his bridge console flipped a myriad of metal switches and pressed twice as many blinking yellow buttons.  "The Emperor's ambush is under way!  What are your orders, Grand Admiral?"

There was no response.  The bulkheads thudded from the distant explosions of ill-fated Alliance ships.  Flaming bits of broken hull and errant plasma reflected off the Executor's deflector shield.

Down in the lower platform, bridge operators glanced nervously at one another.  An officer turned completely around, gazing up at the command level.  "Grand Admiral?"

A tiny whimper came from somewhere, then all was silent yet again.  The roar of nearby TIE Interceptors reverberated off the translucent alloy window panels, followed by a high-pitched hum as laser cannons fired endlessly into the galactic fray.

Once the awkward silence reached a boiling point, it was up to Admiral Firmus Piett to intervene.  Adjusting the collar of his uniform, the slender, fish-eyed commander marched over to a industrial black desk console located in the center of the upper Bridge.

"Uhm... ahem..."  Admiral Piett craned his neck, glancing down.  "Grand Admiral Fluttershy?"

"Mmmmm!"  A silk pink tail swished inward from beneath the desk.  A dainty shadow trembled.

With a sigh, Piett straightened his upper jacket before kneeling down at deskside.  "Grand Admiral.  Madame... we have engaged the Rebellion Forces at Sector Forty-Seven."

"G-Good to know!"  Fluttershy cried.  Curled into a little ball, the uniformed pegasus covered her fuzzy face with her forelimbs, murmuring into the bulkheads:  "Put th-the invitation to the wedding sh-shower on my d-desk tomorrow morning!"

Piett pulled himself through a guttural sigh.  "I mean to say that our starships are firing upon them now that they are fenced in by our blockade."

"Oh... uhm..."  Fluttershy gulped audibly, curling up into an even tighter, fuzzier ball of shivers.  "I kn-knew that!"

"With all due respect, Grand Admiral, the Emperor has charged you with commanding our fleet in cornering the enemy invasion."  Piett arched an eyebrow.  "Might I ask what has stolen your attention down there?"

"Oh!  I... was... uhm..."  One turquoise eye peeked out after another.  Fluttershy sniffled.  "I was j-just checking on our... life s-support systems!  Yes!"  She smiled eagerly.  "We can't very well go after Rebel Scum if we aren't at our best of health!"

"... ... ..."  Piett firmly patted the desk console.  "This is the Navigations Station, Madame."

"...oh."  Fluttershy finally slid out from under the desk and into the cold electric bridge light.  "I... uh... I knew that!"  She straightened her dull gray uniform and slapped on a duller grayer cap—backwards.  "Ahem... as you were, Admiral Peacock!"

"Piett," the Admiral grumbled.  "And the ship is awaiting your orders."

"Orders for what?" Fluttershy asked.  Five milliseconds after her utterance, an errant X-Wing spiraled past the bridge before exploding in a brilliant fireball that lit up the blackness of space.  "Eeep!"  Alarmed by the noise, Fluttershy leapt with wings spread.  A blink later, she landed in Piett's cradling arms, trembling even harder.  "Could s-somepony shut the windows, pl-please?"

"Grand Admiral, we're flying through the vacuum of space," Piett droned.  "All of the Exector's openings are sealed by either translucent polycarbon or high density force-fields."

"Yes... well..."  Fluttershy gracefully floated to the floor, straightening her cap.  "Perhaps we could put some... drapes along the force fields?"  There was another thunderous burst—followed by the grotesque roar of more ravenous TIE Fighters.  Fluttershy flinched.  "That are explosion colored?  You know... to mask out all of the misery..."  She buried her face in her hooves again, whimpering.

"Grand Admiral," Piett exhaled.  "If we do not open fire on the Rebel Fleet, they will cause undue collateral damage on our accompanying escort vessels."

"Oh!  That is... a very..."  Fluttershy fidgeted, her eyes darting towards all of the bright orange bursts erupting beyond the atmosphere of Endor's Moon.  "...very important sample of keen observation, Mr. Peacock!  But... it's... uhm..."  She squinted.  "What time is it?"

"Zero Seven Hundred Hours, Madame."

"Not even breakfast time!"  Fluttershy grinned plastically.  "And you can't very well be open for business before nine o'clock!  Much less for opening fire on anypony!  Heheheh... uhm..."  She backed up, nearly tripping on her limp pink tail.  "Is there a little filly's room around here, or...?"

"Sir!"  An operator looked up from the lower platform.  "Lateral Sentry Ports confirm that the enemy Medical Frigate is sending out more X-Wing and B-Wing fighters to combat our interceptors!"

Fluttershy's muzzle twisted.  "Medical... Frigate...?"

Another operator chimed:  "And their Transport Vessels have already moved to block our Ion Cannons!"

"Transport Vessels?"  Fluttershy's cap slumped forward, and she tilted it back over her tusseled pink bangs.  "What kind of 'Rebels' are these?  Their ships sound so... nice..."  A gulp.  "And friendly?"

Piett spat:  "They have conspired to bring insurrection to the Galactic Empire through discordant ideals of liberal democracy and free will!"

Fluttershy blinked while more ships exploded against the stars.  "I see..."  A deep, brave breath.  "Well, then, let me see a… chart of the… uhm… star… battlefield… of stars… battle chart… battle star chart?"  A cough.  "Please?"

Her Second-in-Command gestured over to a glossy black console.  "Over here, Madame."

Fluttershy trotted at his knee-level.  Once she approached the station in question, she tilted her head up... up... up in futility.  "Uhm... I d-don't think that... that I can see..."

Piett rested his hands behind his back while shouting towards the far edge of the bridge:  "Bring forth the Grand Admiral's Space Stool!"

"Aye, sir!  Acquiring the Grand Admiral's Space Stool!"

Bootsteps rattled across the bulkheads.  Within a minute, a uniformed officer rushed up with a shiny black foot ladder.  He placed it gently but firmly right in front of Fluttershy.

The little pony placed one hoof on it... then lingered.  "I... uh... I don't think it's high enough, actually—"

"Bring forth the second Space Stool!"

"Aye, sir!  Second Space Stool!"

Bootsteps.  The second stool stood on the first.

"Uhm... thanks."  Fluttershy stood precariously on the pair of wobbling ladders.  Clenching her teeth, she brought all four of her tiny hooves together and finally found balance.  "Alright."  She inhaled and exhaled deeply, calming herself as more thunderous vibrations shook through the Super Star Destroyer.  "Now..."  Her eyes darted, reflecting a complex array of blinking lights, lines, and numbers.  "...what am I looking at?"

"The Endor Moon is here..."  Piett said, pointing at one third of the glowing chart.  "Our forces are situated on opposite ends of Sector Forty-Seven."  His bony finger swept across the glossy console.  "Here... and here.  Which leaves the target of our ambush—the totality of the Rebel Alliance—here."

Fluttershy blinked.  "Okay."

"If I may be so bold, I suggest we charge five hundred aft turbolaser batteries and aim for the ships blocking our line of sight of the enemy Medical Frigate."

Fluttershy's eyes darted back and forth.  "...Okay."

Piett continued firmly:  "That way, our forces situated around the Emperor's Station may take up the occupied space and perform a countermeasure against the starfighters attempting to elude our sister ships along the sector's lateral fringe."

Fluttershy's brow furrowed.  "... ... Okay."

"Time is of the essence," Piett said.  "If we don't act now, then we will unwittingly open a window between the Alpha and Beta forces, and I do not believe the Emperor can afford another embarrassment such as that which transpired at Yaavin Four."

Fluttershy's lips hung open.  She stared and stared.  "... ... ...Okay."

Silence.

Piett inhaled.  "Now do you have the order to give, Grand Admiral?"

"Just one moment."  Fluttershy held up a hoof.  "I'm... uh... strategizing."  She cleared her throat.  Seconds ticked by.  At long last, she pointed.  "So... uhm... which ones are us again?  The blinking lights that look like butterflies?  Or the colored streaks that look like cupcake sprinkles?"

Before Piett could retort—

"Grand Admiral!"  A panicked officer ran up to the bridge and scuffled to a stop, panting.  "We have an emergency message coming in from our forces stationed at Omega Station!  On the Endor Moon!  It's concerning the ground invasion!"

Fluttershy pivoted around atop the stools.  "Ground... invasion...?"

"Our stormtroopers are under attack by Ewoks!"

"Uhm..."  Fluttershy grimaced.  "What's an Ewok?"

"The indigenous natives of this satellite world," Piett explained.  "Miniature bipeds, less than half-a-meter tall.  Covered from head to toe in ridiculous fur."  He frowned.  "Primitive forested aboriginals, the lot of them."

"Awwwwwwwwwwwwww..."  Fluttershy's eyes glistened as she bore a genuine smile for the first time in hours.  "That sounds completely and utterly adorable!"

"They're attacking from the treetops and underbrush!" the messenger stammered.  "Our forces on the ground are completely outnumbered!"

"By those precious little teddy bears?"  Fluttershy pouted.  "The poor little things probably want company!  What's so bad about a fuzzy-wuzzy little hug or two?"

The messenger pointed at the console:  "The distress message is coming in on Channel Two.  Shall I display it here, Grand Admiral?"

"By all means!"  Fluttershy turned towards the console.  "Who says we can't seek out new life and new civilizations while we are Imperial Marching all over the Inner Rim—?"

With a flick of the switch, the console projected the flickering hologram of a scout trooper, flailing about while ravenous mammals clung to his body, stabbing and ripping through his armor with stone tools.

"Aaaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaaaaah!"  The scout trooper hollered, waving his blaster and firing blue static holo-lasers all across the bridge.  "They're coming out of the Gungan-damn trees!"

"Eeeep!"  Fluttershy covered her face with her wings.  Grimacing, she braved a peek.  "Uhm... s-soldier!  What seems to be the—?"

"Soul-less!  Beady!  Eyes!"  The scout trooper wailed as holograms of his companions fell to their death in a glossy blue pile all around him.  "And their sticks!  Their sticks hurt sooooo bad!"

"Uhm... oh d-dear..."  Fluttershy fiddled with her forelimbs, sweating before the communication broadcast.  "H-have you tried rubbing some lotion in—?"

"Aaaaaugh!  They've killed us!  They've killed every one of my legion!"

"Just... just try hugging them!"  Fluttershy squeaked.  "Every teddy bear wants a hug—"

"Oh god!  Now they've added rocks!  They've added rocks to the sticks!  God help us!  It's a bear hunt, Admiral!  A bear hunt!"

"Uhm... if... we could all just... join hooves... and sing in friendship... maybe—?"

"Please!"  The scout trooper threw an Ewok off him and resorted to beating back the furry invasion with the butt of his rifle.  "For all that is holy, Grand Admiral!  Send in reinforcements!  Send in AT-AT Walkers!  Send in Sith Apprentices!  I know the Emperor's got a few dozen out there!  They don't even have to be bald or tattooed!  Just!  Send!  Help—!"  The moaning voices of teethless grandmothers tripled in severity, and soon the trooper found himself dogpiled from behind by a mountain of ravenous fur.  "Aaaaaugh!  God, no!  You've killed us!  You've killed us by sending us down here!  Snnrkkkt!  From Hell's heart, I stab at th—"

The hologram vanished in a burp of static.

Piett, unmoved, turned towards the pony.  "Shall we send a second and third detachment, Madame?"

"What?"  Fluttershy blanched.  "They're only teddy bears, Mr. Peacock!  You greatly underestimate their cuddliness!"

"But they are clearly aiding General Solo's offensive.  If the Rebels destroy the power generator—"

Just then, the entire bridge lit up in a bright plume of laser-light, glinting off the pale white hull plates of the Executor.

"Eeek!"  Fluttershy leapt once again into Admiral Piett's arms.  "Wh-what was that?!  What was that?!?"

"Admiral!"  An operator shouted.  "The Emperor has ordered the Death Star to fire on the Rebel fleet!"

"They've already lost one of their flagship vessels" exclaimed another.

"Death Star?!"  Fluttershy's teeth chattered as she clung to Piett.  "I thought it was called the 'Dress Star!'  She looked at the Second-In-Command.  "Isn't that why Mr. Palpatine is performing his Ballroom Meditation?"

"Grand Admiral, Madame."  Piett firmly placed Fluttershy down on the floor and brushed her pink mane hairs off his uniform.  He frowned.  "I'm starting to wonder if you are even fit to command the Executor."

"Of course I am!"  Fluttershy frowned... but then her whole body drooped as she kneaded the ground with an errant hoof.  "If... we were engaging in a Galaxy-Wide bunny census."

"No, Madame, I'm afraid we are currently attempting to eradicate the last remaining members of the foolish Rebel Scum."

"Ew.  Eradicate is such a... mean word."  Fluttershy smiled.  "Let's go to that Bespin place!  I love fluffy clouds!"

"Grand Admiral—"

Fluttershy cleared her throat, turning to face the lower platform.  "Ensigns!  Set a course for the Fluffy Cloud planet!"

"But Madame!"  The operator pointed out the bridge windows.  "The fight—"

"I don't want actions, I want excuses!"  Fluttershy's eyes crossed.  "Wait.  I got that wrong."  She sighed.  "You see, this what happens with fluffy cloud withdrawal—"

The bulkheads rattled again.  X-Wings and TIE Fighters streaked by.  Within seconds, alarms started going off across the bridge consoles.

"Commander!"  Piett marched across the suddenly rumbling command center.  "Report!"

"The Rebel Fleet has cruised within laser cannon range!" an officer exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at a console.  "They're engaging us head-on!"  An explosion rocked the ship's hull, causing the bridge to wobble.  "Their small fighters as well!"

"Curses!"  Piett frowned.  "No doubt they wish to evade the Death Star's targeting system among the Lord Vader's fleet!"  He punched his fist.  "You see, this is why we should have launched our assault on the Medical Frigate from the start!  I just know that fish-headed bastard is behind this!"

More thunder.  The bulkheads rattled violently.  Two consoles exploded with sparks, and a screaming trooper caught on fire.

"Oh..."  Fluttershy's ears drooped as she watched the human effigy flail past her.  "...my."

"Too much fire is concentrated on the Executor!"  A surviving commander hollered in dismay.  "We're losing our deflector energy!"

"Well... I see that you have some very important issues to deal with..."  Fluttershy slowly, quietly backtrotted out into an adjacent hallway.  "...and I think I will let you deal with them in the way that you are... used to dealing with such issues..."  She smiled nervously—a last glimpse of shiny pony teeth before she disappeared beyond hissing blast doors.  "...keep up the good work!"

"Grand Admiral, shall we return fire?"  Piett clung to a bulkhead as the bridge shook harder and harder.  "Grand Admiral!  What are your orders?  Evasive maneuvers or...?"  More shaking.  More silence.  His beady eyes glanced over, blinking.  "Fluttershy?"

There was no pony in sight.

The Admiral hissed:  "Damned... stupid... space horses..."

"Sir!" a controller shouted across the rattling platform.  "We've lost our bridge deflector shield!"

Piett didn't understand why this exclamation was important... until he saw the burning, spiraling A-Wing on an intercept course with their position.  "Intensify the forward batteries!" he shouted.  "I don't want anything to get through!"

A phalanx of superlaser cannons fired at the incoming starfighter, but to no avail.  Explosions rocked the hull as it screamed towards the front windows of the bridge.

"It's too late!" a commander shouted as he and Piett dove for cover.  "Aaaaa—!"

The bridge exploded.  Plasma erupted and bodies flew as the interior was exposed to the vacuum and flesh-shredding shrapnel of space.





In icy motion, the Executor plunged towards the nearest source of gravity.  Adjacent starships could only watch in helpless horror as the Super Star Destroyer met an explosive end against the outer surface of the Death Star.

Armored stormtroopers groaned in frustration.  Within seconds, a random pale object flew past one of the gun turrets of a flanking Star Destroyer.

"A life pod!" an officer shouted.  "Open fire!"

"Negative," another officer remarked.  "There's only equine life signs."

"Hrmmff..."  A stormtrooper at the turret's controls pivoted away from the pod.  "I hate space horses."  His helmet's black visor reflected an incoming X-Wing.  "... ... ...oh, look."

He and everyone else on his ship was soon bathed in torpedo fire.





Fluttershy squatted in the chair of the escape pod.  Outside her window, the Battle of Endor spiraled into the distance.

"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww sissy," Fluttershy exhaled.  She crumpled her gray cap in frustration and tossed it against the opposite bulkhead before folding her forelimbs within the cramped compartment.  "Hrmmff... I told Rarity that I wasn’t cut out for this kind of a temp job.  Performing a bunny census from galactic orbit is one thing, but genocidal annihilation of an entire political faction?  That’s just too many baby steps for my taste.  I don’t care how many frequent flier miles I'm awarded."

Sighing, she brushed her pink bangs back.  She bit her delicate lips pensively.

"I… I wonder if she's doing any better at her job...”





"Rrrrrrgh..."  Cold red light bathed the Bird of Prey's captain as he stared into the periscope.  "Tagha'!"  He lowered the visor, exposing thick forehead ridges above a ravenous grin full of dirty, crooked teeth.  "gheD vItu'!"

Two helmsmen in spiky leather armor pumped their fists.  "Kahless HoS jISaHchugh!"

"So'wI' chu'!"  The Captain commanded, pointing his gloved finger at the viewscreen.  Large green vessels with avian bows loomed among the stars, growing closer.  "He romuluSngan battleships HijmeH!"

"HIja' HoD!" one of the helmsmen replied.  The bridge's bulkheads hummed as the vessel accelerated to their targets.

The Captain raised his fist.  At last, his eyes flared and he shouted over his shoulder:  "qul DeSDu'!"

Nothing happened.

Blinking, the Captain repeated:  "qul DeSDu'!"

Still, more silence.

The helmsmen looked helplessly at each other.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrr...!"  Snarling like a beast, the Captain stood up from his chair and hissed at the tactical station.  "wej vaj DaHechqang, nuch SoH DujlIj tlhIH'a'?!"

"Alright... first of all..."  Rarity sat on a stack of dictionaries before the weapons console.  She wore a double-breasted leather tunic that was four times too large, and a shiny ceremonial bandolier was draped over her head—blinding her.  "I really wish you wouldn't grunt so much.  It's terribly rude... not to mention next to impossible to understand..."

The Captain barked:  "mu' vabDot yaj SoH jatlh jIH tlhIH'a', targ?!"

"Also, precisely which blinking light accomplishes what?"  Rarity grimaced at the glowing red console before her.  "Because they all look like triangles to me."

"Rrrrrgh!"  The Captain palmed his face ridges, groaning.  "Sargh logh QIp!"

"Hmmmm... 'logh Qlp...'"  Rarity tapped her chin in thought.  "I think I've heard that one before.  Just one secondddddd."  She hummed, then licked her lips as she reached down to one of the dictionaries her tiny white butt was seated on.  "I do believe I can translate—"

"HoD!" one of the helmsmen suddenly gasped.

Everyone looked at the viewscreen.  Over the last thirty seconds, half-a-dozen Romulan Warbirds had finished their scan of the sector.  They flew now on an intercept course, firing a wall of hull-melting disruptors at full blast.

"Oh… o-oh dear..."  Rarity gulped as her entire body was lit up by a bright green glow.  "I have a bad feeling about this..."