(A/N: Hi! I'm back, after a long while…as usual, pls read and review because reviews are what keep me going! Enjoy!)
Chapter 7-Not All Things are…..
A shout startled Luke out of his reverie. Rebels clad in the grey of technicians swarmed around the spacecraft as klaxons began to sound. Luke spotted his friend Wedge in the crowd but soon lost him in the sea of people who were hurrying around the deck in various states of panic.
Luke walked calmly over to the operation center where General Madine and other high-ranking officials had gathered; there was no point rushing and tripping over someone. The general, who had been studying the radar screens intently, looked up and beckoned the young man over.
Luke snapped a salute at him, before peering over the General's shoulder to glance at what he was pointing at. Colonel Madine watched as the commander's eyes widened, first with surprise than fear. "They'll be here in an hour Commander. Unless...."
"What?...Sir, I mean.." Luke stammered under Madine's scrutinization.
"Unless, a small X-wing squadron can go, undetected, into their midst and plant the Ir-576." Madine continued, brushing off Luke's pitiful attempts at apology.
Madine studied the man, boy really, given his age. He had never liked the kid, and never really bothered to hide it either. It was nothing personal really. In fact, if Madine had been able to overlook certain familial connections and esoteric tendencies, he might have liked the kid, even considered taking him as a protégé.
But he was a Jedi. A goddamn goody-two-shoes, holier-than-thou, saber-swinging Jedi. But this particular Jedi came to the frontline directly after earning his rank as a Knight and at this moment, he was a Commander, in the rapidly decimating ranks of the Republic, and he was their only hope.
He looked at the boy sharply, studying him. Chin-length blond hair, boyish features, small stature, all of which made him look younger than his nineteen years. Those eyes though, those blue eyes held a pain and grief, born of losing too many friends, too fast and with little time for mourning, and that deceptively lean frame was muscled and powerful. Most importantly though, he could fly, like the devil himself. He and his undisciplined, sorry-excuse for a star fighter squadron, were the best pilots available to Madine, possibly the best in
What had surprised the Colonel most was that the boy in front of him had actually managed to mould the unruly, yet brilliant, pilots into a cohesive fighting machine. A team that had pulled up a stunning number of impossible missions so far. Yes, contrary to the jealous mutterings of others, Madine thought the pilot had earned his rank.
After all, he might have hated Skywalker, but he hadn't ever been accused of being unfair. So he offered him the mission, knowing the kid's answer-the word 'No', wasn't in Skywalker's vocabulary, as far as missions were concerned. The darned kid and his ethics-he accepted.
It was times like this that Colonel Crix Madine really hated his job.