#cloakshape

[swtechspecs]

Kuat Systems Engineering CloakShape Starfighter

Source: The Essential Guide to Vehicles and Vessels (Del Rey, 1996)

[tronmike82]

I am convinced that the gunship the fat guy and qin tried to kill Mando with in the prisoner was a modified cloakshape

[alphamecha-mkii]

Star Wars: Starships of the Galaxy - Cloakshape Fighter in Hangar by Matt Hatton

[oh-no-eu-didnt]

CloakShape fighters were an early type of starfighter developed decades before the Clone Wars. Although the base model was not exceptional in any ways, their ease of modification made them exceptionally popular for years to come, finding use with Republic judicial forces, Jedi, and pirates. The base model required one pilot and came equipped with laser cannons and concussion missile launchers.

Source: The New Essential Guide to Vehicles and Vessels (2003)

First Appearance: Dark Empire 3 - The Battle for Calamari (1992)

[beaconsardis]

The Derelict Ship

I'm sixteen years old. I'm making my way to the front of the ship. We've dropped out of hyperspace early. Something's up.

"What's going on," I ask as I step into the cockpit.

"Nothing to worry about," says Palial, The Night Wind's Ishi Tib pilot. "Hyperscanners picked up something that shouldn't be there so dropped us out of hyperspace before we collided with it. Re-plotting our course now. We'll be on our way in half-"

"Wait," I say.

Currently no bigger than a fist, but floating our way, is a ship. It's old, pre-dating anything I had ever seen before.

"Scan it," I say.

"Why?" Palial looks up at me, his green eyes blinking. "It's not a cargo ship it looks like . . ." He squints, peering at it. "It looks like one of those old CloakShape fighters. Older model."

Something is pulling me towards the ship. I can feel it in my chest.

"Pull us up next to it," I say, "I want to get a better look at it."

"No!" Palial almost laughs. "We're behind schedule as it is!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Siom is suddenly in the cockpit with us. "Why have we stopped and why haven't we started back up?"

"I want to take a closer look at that ship," I jump in before Palial can.

"Why?" Siom considers me, his cybernetic eye irising down.

I open my mouth and close it again. No words that will make sense come to mind. I can feel his eyes on me, studying me. Finally I just say it.

"I don't know. I just . . ."

"Hmm," the Utapaun rubs his chin. He leans over, to get a better view of the derelict ship. After a moment he nods, "Palial, take us closer."

"But-"

Siom silences the Ishi Tib with a flick of the wrist. "I've come to trust Beacon's feelings. If he feels something and I can't explain it, more times than not, something larger is at play and he is often proven right. Take us in."

Palial does as he's told. As he does, I scramble into a flight suit. To show my gratitude, I want Siom to know that I appreciate his time and do not take it for granted.

The Night Wind slows to a halt and I step out of the airlock. Before pushing away from our ship, I make sure my tether is secure. Then I shove off, letting my momentum carry me through space. I land on the hull of the other ship with a dull thud I feel in my bones.

"The ship's so old it's not in any databases," Palial's voice crackles through the commlink. "I was right, though. It is an older model CloakShape fighter."

There's a single scorch mark, directly in the center of the spine of the fighter. It looks like it took a single laser cannon blast.

"That's where the power generator should be," Palial explains, probably studying a schematic. "You blow that and . . ."

He doesn't have to say it. Without the power generator, you don't have propulsion, you don't have weapons, you don't have light support.

"CloakShapes usually had pretty strong shields," Palial sounds confused. "There's no other scorch marks or burns."

"What do you think that means," I ask as I approach the cockpit.

"A single, precise shot to the power generator? I think whoever this was, was stabbed in the back. Probably shot while they weren't looking by someone they trusted."

The pull is stronger, somehow louder, the closer I get to the cockpit. I want to run. I want to get down on all fours and scramble my way up the ship as fast as I can -- but I take it one easy step at a time.

"Aw man," Palial moans.

I don't have to ask what. I see it at the same time he does. The cockpit is wide open. The canopy is gone, probably opened from the inside.

In an instant, I know what happened. I don't imagine it, but I see it as clearly as if I had been there when it happened.

The engines are dead. Life support is gone. Death isn't inevitable, it's imminent. The pilot closes their eyes and calms themselves. They take in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and then raise a hand. Their fingers splay and the canopy flies off. The vacuum of space then pulls the pilot into the void and they become one with the Force.

This was a Jedi starship.

I pull myself into the cockpit, which is wider and longer than I was expecting and I see it almost immediately. Wedged beneath the seat is a chest. It's a small chest, about as wide as my shoulders. I kick it loose and pull it out.

My gloves make it difficult to unhook the latch, but I manage to open the chest. Wrapped in a white cloak I find a fist-sized cube with intricate detailing curling around the corners and covering its sides. Beside the cube is a silver cylinder. It has gold and copper swoops and spirals arcing up and down it. I touch it. I can't believe I'm touching it.

It is clearly and unmistakably the hilt of a lightsaber. I hold it away from me and flick the switch. Nothing happens. I examine the it a little closer and can see something inside it, inside the emitter, is broken.

"What did you find," Palial finally asks.

"Finders keepers," I say.

I once again find myself in the position of knowing I am not going to be able to explain this. I'm not going to be able to explain that this lightsaber and this cube were calling me. I'm not going to be able to explain how something that wasn't built fits so perfectly in my hand or how something that was handcrafted by someone with intense care for themselves has finally found its home. It belongs in the palm of my hand. It always belonged in the palm of my hand.

"No, seriously, what did you find?"

I tuck the lightsaber back into the box "I didn't find anything." I latch it shut. "It found me."

[cucubothforce]

[cucubothforce]

[cucubothforce]