Star Wars: TIE Fighter
Book1 of the "TIE Fighter" Series
Wolfpack Formation
Chapter One
Sprat! Donovan braced himself as the craft shivered around him, the energy blast that had hit his TIE fighter dissipating against his viewport. He didn't have shields, so unfortunately the transparisteel of that portion of the cockpit spiderwebbed as it almost lost integrity. Great, he thought. Just what I needed...another dent in my head. Let's see how the old crackshot likes a piece of his own, though.
Drawing on his years of training and all the talent he could hold on to, Donovan threw the tiny fighter into a perfectly executed reverse corkscrew, coming about on his attacker's flank, directly behind him. Who says X-wings are space superiority starfighters? He watched as the glowing engines grew closer, burning hot as they tried to lose their pursuer. It was a rather generous feeling of superior strength, knowing you had your opponent by the throat, knowing that no matter what, you had him defeated, that had driven Donovan to take his first step into being a pilot. Sure, he loved flying--he wouldn't have been a pilot if he didn't--but the sheer sensation of adrenaline that he loved so much, that he felt now, was what had made him want to fight. He took a deep breath as he let his fingers dance over the control panel, routing more energy to his cannons, and smiled as he held his breath and fired. The firing buttons were easily coerced into their purpose, and clicked rapidly as he pressed them again, and again...and with a flash of flame and released gases, the X-wing exploded before him, a flower of pure destruction.
It was that same blinding light which broke the illusion. The world swept into focus before him as the dark dome of the flight simulator rose into the air on its hydraulics. His helmet's viewplate adjusted for the sudden rise in light levels, darkening so that it obstructed his sight. Each of his team members got up from their simulator chairs before Donovan finally stood up.
"Once again, my friends, I win the game. Sorry, but I guess it's back to basic for you guys," he said as he unbuckled the restraints on his flight suit. He looked over them, the reflective black faceplates staring back at him. Giving a bright smile, he saluted them lazily with two fingers and turned to retrieve his emergency gear from behind his seat.
"You really think you're the best, don't you Hellfire?," asked Carson, one of the other trainees.
"You bet, Carson," he said as he added with an even wider smile, "I'm a lot better than you, obviously."
The metallic click of heels on the flight deck always let you know that the commanding officer was on his way long before you saw him, and Donovan immediately dropped his gear and spun to face the C.O., just in time to bow his head in salute. The other trainees were already at attention at their sim stations, bodies rigid under the harsh scrutiny of the officer's glare. He just stood there, looking over the trainees, letting the tension hang in the air for a handful of heartbeats before his eyes finally came to rest on Donovan. His chin rose slightly as he appraised Donovan, and then he spoke. "You are trainee Donovan Marks, are you not?"
Donovan responded to him with a curt nod and a sharp, "Ay, sir."
The eyes of the officer burned into him for a moment longer before he said, "Good. Very good. You shall have the rest of the day to yourself. Gather your personal belongings, and prepare for dispatch. Then you are to report to the Duty Office in three hours for immediate assignment. Understand?"
Donovan didn't believe what he was hearing. He was being assigned. "Ay, sir."
The officer almost gave a smile, and said aloud so the others could surely hear, "Congratulations, Lieutenant Marks. You're fighting for the Empire now."
Donovan smiled slightly, even though he took this very seriously. He was finally getting out of this place. He was going to get to fight against live pilots now, not just these simulated ones. This was going to be great. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
The officer turned slightly so he could see the rest of the trainees, and said loudly, "The rest of you are to report immediately to Commander Tsang for field drills. Double time! Move!" He clapped his hands to signify the end of the one-sided conversation, and the trainees scurried for the bay doors that led out into the drilling fields. With that, he nodded to Donovan one last time, and then he turned and walked briskly out of the simulation bay. Donovan just stood there for a moment, his heart leaping for joy. He had been chosen to fight for the Empire, just like he'd wanted all his life. This was going to be great. He turned and grabbed his emergency gear bag off the floor at his feet, then jogged off toward the barracks to gather his things.
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"Going somewhere, hotshot?"
Donovan didn't need to hear anymore to know exactly who it was he was speaking to. Spinning on his heels, he snapped to attention and tipped his head in a sharp salute. "Yes, sir," he said, and then gave a very brief pause before adding, "To fight for the Empire, sir."
The officer smiled.
"At ease, pilot. I'm not here to drill you about anything." Donovan let his stance slacken, but not much. Not in the presence of the man who had held his life in a tight fist for the past two years.
"Yes, sir."
"I came to congratulate you, Lieutenant. I heard about your promotion and your immediate assignment. Have you been to the Duty Office to receive that assignment yet?"
"No, sir. I haven't yet finished gathering my things."
"Well, please continue. I will hold you no longer. Once again, Lieutenant, congratulations."
"Thank you, sir." Donovan watched as the man turned and walked away before he turned once again to face his bunk, and his solitary bag.
"Oh, and pilot?," the officer said, making Donovan once again spin on his heels to face him.
"Yes, sir?"
The officer saluted him informally with a grin and said, "Welcome to the Fleet."
"Thank you, sir."
With that, the officer turned, and was gone.
Donovan took one last glance over the now empty bunk where he had slept for the past two years, and made sure he had packed everything. Nothing remained of his humbling old home, save for a terribly worn mattress and a set of neatly folded bedsheets which sat perched at the foot of the bunk. He looked to the bag that held everything he owned. Everything he owned, in one single duffel bag. He sighed, and picked it up from the bed, slung it over his right shoulder. It was time to leave. He took one last look into the dim barracks as he passed through the doorway, and thought in a fleeting moment about all of the experiences he'd encountered here, all of the things he'd learned. His emotion threatening to overcome his eyes, and turned and walked out of the doorway. As he walked the long, dark corridor to the outside training fields, he considered his position.
This is what I've always wanted. I'm going to fight for the Empire now, and this is how it must be. There is no room for emotions like these in the life of a pilot. No fears, no regrets, no friends--not for long, anyway...and certainly no pity.
He opened the door to the outside training fields, and bright, warm sunlight spilled onto his face, flashing briefly across his glasses before they had time to compensate for the sudden brightness. Walking across the open fields, he paused a moment to watch the hundreds of trainees going through their rigorous evening exercises, all lined up in neat rows. From behind him came another voice, this one just as familiar as the last.
"Think you're special, huh?"
Donovan turned around slowly, his dark glasses glinting in the bright sunset. Before him stood a young man of about twenty-four, with a fairly strong frame. He was dressed like Donovan for the most part, with his black flight pants and boots, and a tight fitted black shirt that outlined his muscular upper body. Donovan stared at him for a moment before saying anything.
"Careful, pilot. You might just find yourself in charge of mess clean-up, you keep talking that way." He reached up with his free hand to display the Lieutenant's bar in his fingers, and the other pilot's jaw dropped.
"No way. You've got to be joking."
"That's right, Spider...I got promoted. Reassignment effective immediately."
The other laughed heartily, and stepped forward with an extended hand, which Donovan promptly took in his own, shaking it. "Congratulations," he said. "Where you going?"
"Don't know yet. I was on my way to the Duty Office to find out."
"Well," said the young pilot, "wherever you're headed to, I hope you do well."
"Thanks Spider, " Donovan said, shaking the man's hand again. "I'll light a few for you."
"Good man," said Spider with a wide grin. "Now get to the Duty Office. Wouldn't want to miss that flight of yours."
Donovan met Spider's gaze evenly and said, "Maybe one day we'll meet again." Spider simply smiled, released his hand, and patted his shoulder heavily as he trotted back out to the main training field.
He turned around as he jogged and yelled back to Donovan, "Perhaps." Donovan smiled as the man finished. "Maybe that day, you can be my wingman!" With that, he turned back around and disappeared into the rows of trainees.
Donovan gathered himself once again and walked the rest of the way to the Main Administration Building.
[To be continued...]
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