I'm not sure how happy I am with this chapter (I ended up splitting it in two, so the ending might feel a bit sudden).
As may become obvious pretty quickly – this is a flashback chapter, and the next few chapters will be the same. I wanted to give you guys some background on The Nightfury Crew (well, as you'll see, this is actually when they were the crew of The Stormfly II – but that will come up in a later chapter). I'm not going to cover the three or four years they were together, just highlight a few of the important dates (mainly in the Mericcup relationship).
Remember back in chapter 14 when Jack was telling Rapunzel about his scars? If there are any of those stories you really want to see, let me know! I'm not sure exactly how much this will cover, I'm just going to see where it goes. So I'm open for your thoughts – and please be sure to let me know if you have any questions! I'm going to try and work out a timeline that I'll post on my tumblr (songofafreeheart, in case you're interested) to establish the character's ages, and when everything happened.
This chapter starts just as Jack's time at the Imperial Flight Academy is coming to an end – about a year and a half after he left Warren (so he's 19), about 4 years before he meets Rapunzel.
Meanwhile – my second space battle! (Even if it is just a mock battle/exercise.)
Dedicated to Herheadintheclouds, who once mentioned she wanted to see Jack being a snot at the Academy. This probably isn't what she had in mind, but still. (And I don't care if you don't ship Rainbow Snowcone – go read her story Project GUARDIAN: The Rise and Fall. It is amazing, and fun, and every person who likes RotG needs to read it. End of story.)
Among The Stars
Chapter 20
Space had lost the ability to calm him. He didn't know when the change had happened, only that it had. And it unnerved him, to have his last safe haven stripped away from him. There had been others – but he had given them up when he had left Warren. And that was a decision he couldn't take back, much as he was starting to regret it. Bunnymund had made that clear.
Jack grimaced and pushed that thought away, hands tightening around the yoke of his one man fighter.
The flight instructor was speaking through his ear piece, addressing the two teams of students taking part in the exercise.
"I don't think I need remind you this is your last test as cadets," he was saying. "As such, it is your last chance to prove yourself, or raise your grade. For those of you who have not yet received a commission with the Imperial Fleet, this will be your last chance to catch the attention of someone with an available commission."
Jack rolled his eyes, trying not to dwell on that thought.
"You all know the rules by now," the instructor went on. "Do the Academy, and the Empire, proud."
The communication ended, and the twenty-four fighters took their places on the arena marked out with space buoys that created a grid of red light so the boundaries were clear. It was synched up with the light on Jack's dash (and on the other fighters). On the Imperial Carrier just beyond the arena, overlooking the arena, the instructor would flip the switch that would turn on the lights green.
Jack kept one eye on that light as he double checked his computers and engine functions one last time. All were finely tuned from the several hours he had spent working on them the night before. Not that they needed much work. He spent more time on his fighter than an of the other cadets, and he had needed something to do with his time. He had never been good in social arenas, even less so with his peers in the Academy.
This was a different arena though – and a different matter entirely.
The light on the dash changed to green.
The game was simple. Avoid getting hit, and take out as many of the opposing team as you could. It tested flight skill, hand-eye coordination, tactical skill and combat skills. Jack had scored highest of the class the first time they had done the exercise at the beginning of their training a year and a half earlier, and he had only gotten better.
His earpiece buzzed with his teammate's strategy. Jack half paid attention – but an opposing fighter had already started toward him.
Checking his shields, he prepped for evasive maneuvers. Their shots were limited, so it was best to preserves them as long as possible. It wasn't a life or death situation, and he preferred to fly anyway. That was what he had come to the Academy to learn. Not to become one more Imperial drone answering to the will of a narcissistic empress with no regard for life, whether human or alien.
Right now he refused to think about the price he had paid to get here in the first place. And for what?
No. He wouldn't think about it.
He swung his fighter wide to get out of the fighter's path. There were several other fighter's behind him – if his attacker were looking for a fight he could find it with one of them.
He started to relax. But his sensors indicated the other fighter – Red 2, if he was reading the markings on its side correctly – had shifted course to follow him.
"You gotta be kidding me," Jack muttered. His open comm would have caught it, but it was lost among the other chatter on the Grey Team channel.
He dropped the fighter into a nose dive, almost straight down, ignoring the G-forces that crushed him into his seat. Just before reaching the bottom of the arena he leveled out and swerved to his right. His brain received a letter of complaint for his stomach, but it was disregarded.
His tail was still close behind, though faltering with the sudden changes. Red 2 had skill, Jack would give him that. But only that.
He made a sharp upward turn.
Red 2's reaction was quick, turning up as well.
Jack drove his fighter into the midst of the mock battle, where most of the ships were now engaged. He slipped behind an enemy fighter – Red 5 – narrowly avoiding a bolt from another opponent. Instead it hit the fighter he ducked around. Red 5's shields rippled as they absorbed the hit.
The blasters were harmless. But the hull sensors kept track of each hit, and the computer calculated the damage that would have been caused, creating a similar affect on the ship. Once your shields were destroyed you flew defenseless. If you received what would have been a fatal hit your engines went dead, all but life-support shutting down until the exercise ending.
Jack flew right up to the edge of the arena before pulling up again, the belly of his fighter skimming the boundary. If your ship strayed beyond the light grid formed by the buoys you were disqualified. He had never been disqualified in this exercise, and he had no intention of breaking that record.
"This is Grey 4," a voice said through the comm. "I could use a little help!"
Jack twisted his fighter back toward the battle, eyes scanning the area for Grey 4. He found her nearby, tagged by two members of the red team.
"Got it." He locked first on one, taking quick but careful aim and firing. The computer chimed that it had been a direct hit. He fired again, to do as much damage as possible before it could break free of his targeting lock.
Each was a direct hit. He didn't need the computer to tell him the fighter's shields should be down. He fired one last time – just as the fighter swerved out of the way, and his targeting computers lost the lock. The shot sailed harmlessly to the end of the arena before fading away.
"Blast!"
Each fighter had fifteen shots, and he had just used up three of them – the last a complete waste.
Grey 4 turned toward the fighter he had missed and fired, the shot dead center on the engines.
"Thanks, Jack."
He nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see it. Lost in the fact for a moment that he had no idea who she was beside her ship assignment, yet she knew his first name. Shaking that off, he scanned his surrounding to gage his best course of action.
A red team fighter bore down on his from the right. He saw the blaster cannons flash, and accelerated forward to avoid the shot. It passed behind him, but not harmlessly. It hit another red team fighter, which immediately wen dread in the air.
He dove back into the fray to lose the fighter that had turned to follow him – Red 2. Okay, he would have to give him persistence as well as skill.
Jack swerved this way and that, avoiding fire from enemies as well as teammates now he was in the thick of the fight. One shot landed thought, and he grimaces as the computer's feminine voice informed him his shields were down seventy-five percent.
He would take the wind's incessant, childlike questions over the computer any day.
"Some blows are unavoidable," Bunnymund has taught him. "Don't waste time regrettin' it, and don't panic – that'll leave ya open for another. Keep movin'."
He had tried to block the words out when he had first fotten to the Academy. But he'd learned quickly the value of what he already knew. Even without a staff, or the wind or the ice, all those lessons had worth – even more so now he had nothing else to fall back on.
"You're in the way, Frost!" someone snapped through his earpiece. "Which side are you on?"
Grey, unfortunately, he though. The side that usually lost. After a while, the efo boost of being the last man from his team standing had given way to annoyance. They did win – thirty-six percent of the time, according to the score cards – but it didn't make him any less annoyed with his assigned team.
Turning back to the mock battle field, Jack looked at the nine remaining members of Grey Team, and the levent red. Didn't Grey 1 ever get tired of shouting out strategies that only worked twenty precent of the time? Hopefully his commission wouldn't require him to be in tactical situations.
Another Red Team fighter, Red 10, passed him – his sensors indicating at the fighter's shields were disabled. Taking aim he fired, and Red 10 went dead. Two – no, three down. Nine to do. If this was his last test at the Academy, he would really rather win, even if it had to be in spite of his teammates.
His sensors beeped.
In spite of Red 2 as well, apparently.
Jack pulled away from the rest of the Grey Team, swerving away from the other fighters – but Red 2 followed.
"Frost, can't you stick with your team for once?" Grey 1 shouted through the comm.
"Tell that to the jerk on my tail," Jack muttered, cringing at the level of sound right in his ears with his sensitive hearing. Other than that he disregarded the communication as he flew around the arena, Red 2 still on his tail. Again, the pilot was good. Good enough to keep up with Jack's maneuvers without too much difficulty. But it wasn't Jack's ego that told him his opponent wasn't up to his skill level. Not quite. If he had to guess, the difference was that his opponent just wasn't as finely attuned to the inner workings of his ship.
Jack smirked. He'd never understood why his peers were so eager to leave the repairs of their fighters to mechanics and droids. They seemed to think he was an overachiever or a teacher's pet for handling all his own repairs, above and beyond what was required. But he enjoyed it. And North taught him the only way to fly a ship well was to know it. And the only way to know a ship required being aware of every detail, from how it was built to the exact state of its engines.
Red 2 didn't have that intimacy with his fighter – or the benefit of North's teachings – but he was still a good pilot.
Jack decided he might as well have a little fun, as long as he was here. The way things were going, it might be all he got out of this.
He kept to the edges of the arena, giving the mock battle a berth, and pulling out all the stops when it came to his flight path.
As he tilted the fighter on its side and curved back around, his shoulders relaxed. It was the first time he'd had any kind of freedom in more than a year and a half. A slow grin spread as he lifted the nose of his fighter upward.
It was after a round about lap around the arena that Jack's grin slipped.
"Why aren't you firing?" he asked under his breath, watching the fighter behind him on one of the computer screens. It was possible Red 2 had used up all his shots – but Jack's instinct told him that wasn't the case. And much as the Imperial instructors said otherwise, his instinct was one of the few things he trusted.
As he tried to figure it out, his thought were momentarily distracted. He miscalculated and the arc of his flight path took him too close to the battle. A stray shot hit his wing, close to the body. The fighter shuddered.
"Shields are functioning at ten percent and dropping," the computer said. "Now at seven percent."
He dodged another shot, gritting his teeth. Tooth with feint in horror if she knew.
"Now operating at-" it cut itself off as it dropped again. "Now operating at four percent."
"Shut. Up." Jack ground out between his teeth. The shields were useless after twenty percent anyway. The glanced at the indicatior screen that tracked the rest of the fighters in relation to his own position.
Two reds, including the one behind him, and he was the fourth grey. He was almost impressed with his team. The other three were teaming up on one of the reds. He had to take out Red 2 now, before one of his teammates tried to be helpful.
Lifting the nose of his fighter again, he headed toward the top of the arena, keeping a close on on Red 2 on the screen. His smirk returned as he saw the enemy fighter. He decreased his speed, letting his opponent close in…
Just as Red 2 entered easy firing range, Jack flipped the ship back toward his opponent. When the ship was right side up, Jack pulled the trigger, firing three successive shots straight at Red 2, aiming for the shields. The second bolt killed the shields. Jack shifted his aim to the fuel chambers. The hit was slightly off – his aiming had been sloppy. But had it been a real battle, it still would have been close enough it would have caused the fighter to explode.
Jack smirked.
#
A few hours later they were back in the Imperial Flight Academy Headquarters on Pallash I.
Jack hadn't planned to check the score from the exercise. And he had no social life, so when he heard his datapad chime to alert him to a new message, he didn't even bother to look up from the bolts he was tightening on the underbelly of his fighter, one last time. There wasn't much point working on the fighter – after tonight it wasn't even his. It would be handed over to the mechanics, who would do a full system analysis and prepare it for the next student who would receive it at the start of the next semester in a few weeks.
But once he had finished the few miniscule changes (he has tuned it up the night before, after all), curiosity got the better of him. Curiosity would always be his greatest weekness, he had realized long agao. He sighed in frustration was he wiped his hands on his dark grey, Academy issue flight suit, and went to pick up the datapad he had left near his tool kit. A few deft flicks of his fingers over the screen brought up his messages, and he opened the newest message. His score, as predicted.
And the numbers were also exactly what he had predicted. His flight scores were perfect, his aim exceeded expectations, his tactics were closer to exceeds expectations than passing. His teamwork, how ever, was non-existent – even worse than usual.
At the end of the message was a note that he would receive his final evaluation the next day.
Jack glared down at the datapad in his hand. He had the strong urge to throw it against a nearby wall, but resisted. Though in his mind he pictured it shattering against the durasteel wall of the hanger bay, and the thought was satisfying – though it left him with a stronger desire for the real thing.
He closed his eyes, trying to call on the calming techniques Sandy had taught him. They helped – to a point. But he found himself left with the desire for snow and a few of Bunnymund's mint chocolate eggs. But neither were an option at the moment. He had no access to anything on Warren, let alone any of Bunnymund's precious chocolate. Jack hadn't even realized how much he liked the stuff until his access was cut off.
And he had made that choice himself. That thought just strengthened his desire to hurl the datapad at the wall.
He seriously contemplated it. It was military issue, so he would have to pay if he ruined it… but after tonight it wouldn't make much difference.
But before he could finish that thought the commlink on his belt chirped. He grimaced. He'd expected to be left alone now classes were over. He glanced at it out of habit – as a cadet he wasn't allowed to ignore a call, in case it was a commanding officer.
"Cadet Frost," he said, hitting the button on the side to accept the communication.
"Cadet, you've been summoned to the Imperial Palace. Report there within the hour.
"The palace?" he asked, too stunned to bite it back. "Why?"
"It's not your place to question an order, Cadet," the officer said. "It's your job to follow them. Report to the palace in your formal uniform."
"Yes sir," he sighed.
I'm debating if I should tell you who Red 2 is, or hang onto that tidbit for later in the story…
I am starting to feel that my chapters should be longer, though. Your thoughts? And don't forget to let me know if you want to see any of the stories from chapter 14, with the other Disney Princesses.