Did He Hate Me?

It was supposed to be so easy.
We were the latest graduating class of the Imperial Academy. We were so proud of ourselves, as we received our honors at the graduation ceremony, and even prouder when we received our first assignments. Many of us, myself included, were assigned to a brand new star destroyer, fresh off the docks at Fondor. It was called the Firebolt. I remember when I first laid eyes on it, after its maiden voyage from Fondor to Caridia. It was a thing to behold, a matte gray behemoth, a marvel of Imperial technology.
We boarded it and for the next few months we enjoyed military life flying regular patrols of a small part of the Corellian Trade Spine, between Jumus and New Plympto, and sometimes to Duro. It was a boring, uneventful life of eating, sleeping, and drilling, punctuated by the occasional terra leave when the star destroyer stopped to take on fresh supplies. So, when word got around that we were going to see some combat, every one of us TIE pilots were talking about it nonstop. The bulk of the crew, however, being more experienced than us, was less enthralled. But us TIE pilots, every one of us was fresh from the Academy, and itching for some action.
Our orders were to go to a remote part of the nearby Sacorrian System where Intelligence had discovered a rebel frigate was undergoing repairs after a run-in with another star destroyer patrolling from Saccoria to Talfaglio. It had been badly damaged in the resulting battle, and was thus an easy target. The Firebolt was to enter the system, scramble its fighters, and destroy the frigate before they had a chance to escape or call for help.
It was going to be so easy, and we were all excited about our first real mission. A few of us threw a little party in the hanger the night before, with some inexpensive Corellian Brandy one of the other pilots had sneaked aboard on our last terra leave. Of course none of the officers knew about it. They would have had us court marshaled.
The next day we suited up and climbed into our cockpits, ready to launch on a moment's notice. We were about to make it a glorious day for the Empire. But it was not to be.
When we dropped into the system, the frigate's repairs were already underway, and the Firebolt's sensors forwarded targeting information on twenty-four enemy fighters, already on an intercept course with the Firebolt. This wasn't what we had expected. This wasn't what we were prepared for. We...we were helpless. They split as they came. Half of them flew up over the top of the ship, out of sight. The other twelve went under, and began to fire on us even as we launched. We never stood a chance. I saw my wingmate's fighter explode just to my left, and two other fighters ahead of me were gone with the first volley. Those of us that survived the first wave panicked. Only a couple of squadron commanders were left, and they quickly tried to take control of their squadrons, but we were too afraid to function. Eventually, they got us in control, just in time for us to return fire on the rebel fighters' second pass.
The fighting escalated from there. The Firebolt wasn't firing at the rebels very much, probably because they were more likely to hit us than the rebels, who were obviously veteran pilots.
At one point during the fighting, I managed to hit one of the rebel fighters, purely by luck. It was an X-Wing. Its engine exploded, the upper right one, I think, but not enough that it couldn't still fly. It was flying away, limping away from the battle, when a shot from one of the Firebolt's turbolasers blew it away, into a cloud of shrapnel. I was mesmerized, watching it, when I felt my TIE fighter jerk right, hard, throwing me against the right side of the cockpit. Before I realized what was happening, I was in a free fall, tumbling away from the Firebolt and the fighting. My left solar panel had been shot off, and by the time I managed to stop my fighter from tumbling, my engines were dead. Out of my cockpit's window, I could see the battle as it drifted farther and farther away. I tried my comm unit, but it was dead too. Everything in my fighter was dead but me, but I would be to soon, when the oxygen supply in my suit's life support system ran out.
Eventually, I saw the Firebolt's cannons start to spew green lasers into space. I guess, either they called the TIEs back, or all the TIEs were destroyed, or maybe they just didn't care whether or not they hit their own fighters anymore. In any case, the battle was over soon after that, and I saw the Firebolt's big guns open up on the rebel frigate, which exploded after only two volleys.
Then the Firebolt jumped into hyperspace, and I was alone, drifting through space in a dead fighter, with nothing but the stars to bear witness. There wasn't even a planet in sight.
My oxygen is almost out now. I have maybe two, three minutes left. Looking back, I wonder if the pilot of that X-Wing I shot...I wonder...did he hate me? In that instance after I shot him, but before he died...did he hate me? I would like to think he did not, because I did not hate him. I wonder if the pilot who shot me is wondering if I hated him. I wish I could meet him...so I could tell him that I do not.