A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM
Luck of the Draw
From the Adventures of Zac Muleer
-1-
"Ensign Muleer!" The instructor threw a datachip at the distracted flight cadet, missing Zac's head by inches. "Pay attention, or I'll ground you so hard, you'll wish you never boarded this station!"
"Yessir." Zac snapped to attention. "Sorry, sir." Zac's cheeks burned with embarrassment but he couldn't help glancing once more outside the viewport. A brand new squadron of Incom Z-95 Headhunter trainers was being delivered to the Corellian Spaceyard just for him and his colleagues. They were attached to a hauler, so they were exposed to open space for the whole station to see, and beginning docking procedures just behind where the instructor stood.
The instructor took a deep breath and sharply barked at the roomful of trainees. "Now, I know you dirty groundpounders think you can pilot the Z-95s pulling in behind me. But you have to earn that right. Only the top twelve of you will move on to space training. The rest of you will stay in the simulators until you become one of the top twelve, or you wash out."
Zac's mind began to drift back out into the open space behind the instructor. He had spent countless hours in the simulators flying every type of ship from freighters to snubfighters, and even began his certification on old cargo haulers. His nights were divided between studying all of the reg manuals he could get his hands on. Well, that and drinking at the station's dive bar where pilots congregated. He wasn't the youngest pilot in the Corellian Flight Academy, as one of his classmates liked to boast, but he could at least get into the spacer cantinas and drink with the pilots who visited the station.
Most of the stories he heard were from freighter pilots. Rarely were snubfighter jocks on station for long periods of time, and those that were didn't spend much time in station dive bars. But now, he could be one of the few on station who spent time inside of a Z-95 Headhunter. Zac thought to the previous week when their class was notified they would be getting some space-time in real fighters. He may have already informed one of the Twi'lek dancers on Deck Four that he was running patrols in a snubfighter.
Lucky break for me, Zac thought. Assuming I make it into the top twelve. He glanced around at the thirty or so students who were staring at their instructor. Not a problem.
The instructor was finishing his 'pep talk.' "Class, your next assignment is to spend some time with the training instructor in Docking Bay Sixty-two. The Headhunters are all there and are being modified for training exercises. That means low-intensity lasers, higher shields, and no hyperdrive. Don't want you taking my ships out of the sector. It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."
The instructor pulled out a datapad and tapped a few keystrokes. "Your assignments have now been posted. Flight Officer Els'eil will introduce you to the new equipment, and send half of you back to the simulators. Don't embarrass me." The instructor turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the class standing at attention. It only took one recruit to make a break for Docking Bay Sixty-Two that sent the rest of the class scrambling after him like children after unopened presents.
They reached the docking bay in a pack, collecting just inside the blast door. All of them had been around starships before, but this was a unique experience to them: these starships were theirs. Before Zac could take a step toward the closest of the Z-95s, a sharp voice snapped them into formation.
"Training squadron, form up!" A female voice shouted, echoing throughout the docking bay.
Zac's eyes darted around, looking for Flight Officer Els'eil, when a black-furred bothan marched in front of the formation and stopped. Her fur was streaked with white stripes and she wore a green flight suit with a respirator attached to the vest on her chest. She moved down the line of recruits, eyeing each one with a furrowed brow. The fur along her snout rippled, a sign of agitation, as she passed each student. She locked eyes with the recruit next to Zac and stopped in front of him. Zac wasn't watching but he knew what was going on: his eyes were darting up and down Flight Officer Els'eil and behind her, looking.
"Expecting someone else?" Els'eil demanded.
"No, ma'am. I, uh…" the recruit stuttered. "I thought you would be in uniform. I was looking for your rank." Els'eil waited. "Uh, ma'am."
She began pacing in front of the recruits. "Let me tell you something your previous instructors won't." She barked. Pointing at the respirator on her flight suit, she snapped, "This is the only uniform that matters. Your rank will not keep you alive from the hard vacuum of space. A focused corporal can shoot down a reckless commander faster than the Maw will swallow you up on a Kessel Run." Zac suppressed a smile. She stopped pacing in front of Zac and locked eyes with him. "What about you? Were you expecting something else?"
Let's play, Zac thought mischievously. "I just thought you'd be taller, ma'am."
Zac heard the collective breathing of his colleagues cease, but Els'eil was suppressing a smile of her own. "Muleer, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"For your sake, you better be a good pilot."
"Nothing to worry about, ma'am." Zac couldn't suppress his smile at this point.
"Typical Corellian bravado," Els'eil muttered. "Recruits, your postings are on the flight board on the back wall. Everyone is dismissed, except for Mr. Muleer here."
Zac's stomach dropped. Here we go again, he thought. His classmates scurried away from Zac as quickly as they could. Flight Officer Els'eil hadn't moved from Zac's line of sight. As soon as the last recruit was out of earshot, Zac could see her twist and stretch her shoulders and set her jaw. "Don't move, Zac. If anyone looks, I want them thinking I'm yelling at you."
"Yes, ma'am." Zac's smile was back, but he was locked at attention.
"Would you stop calling me 'ma'am'? You know I hate that."
"Yes, ma'am."
Her black and white fur rippled and Zac grinned. "Look, Zac, I have good news and bad news."
"I hate it when conversations begin like that."
"Quiet. You've cleared the bar for inflight Z-95 training. But I can't put you in the cockpit of one of those new birds just yet. You're the only one in the squadron with tramp freighter training, so I need to put you on ejection patrol." She could see the disappointment in Zac's face. "Now don't give me that. You'll still get inflight training, and in something that is far more applicable to real life."
"Not if another war breaks out," Zac said, remembering how pivotal fighter pilots were in the Clone Wars.
"Especially if another war breaks out." Els'eil jabbed a finger into Zac's chest, but her voice was a much softer tone. "I'll help you into fighter training during downtime. But for now, I need you in the pickup freighter. The current flight officer assigned to the freighter is out with Talusian fever. He's as green as a Hutt in heat, and I don't want him in any of my ships. It should only be for a few weeks. Zac, I wouldn't ask anyone I didn't trust."
"Fine, Fayla. But you owe me one." Zac grinned.
"My recommendation to get you into this academy doesn't count?"
"Not even a little bit."
Zac noticed his classmates making their way back to him in a gaggle, and some were beginning to notice that Flight Officer Els'eil wasn't tearing into him as much as they initially thought. Zac straightened up and locked his jaw. Els'eil took the hint and barked at Zac, "I don't want to hear any more of it, cadet. Shape up, or I'll pull you out of rotation so fast, you'll have a hard time finding Centerpoint Station! Dismissed!" She twisted around and marched past the first group of cadets that were walking back from the postings.
"Whoo, Zac, you better watch yourself around her!" One of his colleagues chided him.
"What's she have you doing, Zac?" another asked. "You weren't on the flight roster, but I know you got a better score than me on the last exam."
"Ah, I got such high scores on my simulator runs, she has me flying a tramp freighter around you guys. She's just tryin' to level the playing field against you." Zac smiled and they headed back to the barracks. He would keep up the ruse as best he can, but he still couldn't help but feel cheated at the chance to fly a snubfighter. He took one more longing look at the Z-95 Headhunters as they were still being offloaded from the cargo freighter, and headed to his next class.