They call themselves Rogue Squadron. Some have also referred to them as "crazy". The Empire would love to rename them into "Non-Existent Squadron". But they're not as perfect, as they seem. Meet the Rogues...Meet Wes Janson.
Short stories, all centered around Rogue Squadron, the headlines are respective to each letter.
This is the story for the letter "A".
Sachita
A like Adrenaline
„You're a junkie- oh, oh, a junkie-"
Annoyed, you turn the song off. A song by the Dead Spaceman band. Great.
Just the support you need now- and there it is already-
"Get ready, ready, ready! C'mon, get moving! Emergency code Red one!"
Get in the flightsuit- equipment check- then running, running-
You get in your fighter and hurry through the pre-flight check.
And then , then you're up in the air and there's nothing but the steady thrumming of the engines, the faint humming sound of the comlink and your own beating heart.
You are convinced that it can be heard over kilometers- it's such a loud sound in the silence of space- but you know that it isn't true anyway.
Then the enemy. Your heartrate is speeding up.
Turn to the left, avoid the enemy with a perfect barrel roll- you can hear the agitated chatter of your comrades over your comlink through the dull roar in your ears- like waves crashing furiously against a coast.
You open up beautiful, deadly, orange laser fire and your enemy explodes in a sudden fireball.
"Got one!" You aren't even aware that you said it out loud, but then you hear the confirmation of your Commander. "Well done!" he says, but you're already lost in the next tidal wave and your heart is now beating so fast and loud- thump, thump, thump, thump- that you are sure it will soon cease beating.
And then you are again involved in another deadly dance with your enemy- weave, turn to the right, a flip over--
And then it is over. Suddenly.
You find yourself sitting next to your snubfighter and you are not even sure how you got back here in one piece.
With shaking heads you take your helmet off and sit down on the ground heavily, as if someone has suddenly pulled the plug.
Strangely enough, you unexpectedly remember the lyrics of the song.
Okay. So the Dead Spaceman band has won. You are a junkie.
Except that you are not hopped up on drugs, but on adrenaline.
I would love to get some reviews...but regardless of this fact, I'll definitely continue this.