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Helmets on their heads, they ran along the flight deck and towards the fighters, where a tech was working on their crafts. Chaser stopped by the command officer and saluted him. Luke hurried to do the same.
"Black Five and Six coming to take the shift, Commander," said Chaser.
The commander nodded.
"Take A61-ZC-5 and 12. No special conditions reported. Keep watch on outer space rather than planet-side. Move along."
Chaser saluted once more, then made his way to the gantry above the ships, followed by Luke. The young man climbed down into the small cockpit with barely repressed excitement, and let the hatch close above him with a hiss. He pressed the power-up stud, pulled a few levers and did a rapid check-up of various levels: energy, ion engines, balance, radio, laser cannons. All control lights were green.
He was finishing his checks when Chaser's voice rang over the comm.
"Black Five, this is Black Six for a transmission test, do you read me?"
"Loud and clear, Black Six," Luke answered.
"Good. Prepare for launch. Six out."
"Copy. Five out," the young man replied, unable to shake off his grin. After a few more exchanges between him and Launch Control, his ship began to move towards the bay doors. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Chaser's own craft head in the same direction. They crossed the atmospheric shield, and reached the area of the bay that was being emptied of all air by the pumps.
Hands on the controls, feet on the pedals, he closed his eyes and exhaled, waiting for the moment of the launch. He tried to recall the advice given to him at the Academy, but his mind was running far too fast. The confinement of the ship, that most found difficult to bear, was comforting to him. This is where he was meant to be; he felt in his place, invincible and free. Knowing this was one of the most dangerous jobs in the universe changed nothing to that. If anything, it only heightened the thrill.
The doors of the bay slowly opened, revealing the pitch-black void spreading beyond them.
"Launch planned in four... three... two... one... go!"
As soon as the signal rang, Luke pushed on the throttle pedals to propel his craft forward. The first rush of acceleration took him at the pit of his stomach and pushed him in the back of his seat; he smiled, delighted by the familiar sensation. The darkness was all around him, embracing him, compelling in its mysterious infinity.
To test his craft – but mostly for the joy of it – he tried a few spins. The controls were amazingly reactive, a mere brush of the yoke sending the ship darting in the right direction. It was as if it responded to his mind rather than his body's commands.
"You done playing, Five?" he heard Chaser say through the radio. "We've got a job to do."
"Affirmative, Six," Luke replied. "What are we doing?"
"Plain old security patrol. We roam 'round the ship and make sure nothing unwelcome goes through. You cover for me."
"Okay."
Luke positioned himself behind Chaser's ship, watching for any threat from outer space. Chaser was flying on a steady path, tracing long and straight lines, and Luke soon found himself chump at the bit for a little action.
His wing mate must have taken pity on him, because his voice soon made itself heard again.
"Black Five, this is Black Six. How does some manoeuvring and element formations sound?"
"Sounds great, Six," Luke hurried to answer, eager at the idea.
"Copy that. We'll go easy at first, stay behind me. And keep an eye out."
Before long, Chaser started to twist into space, taking him through a series of figures. He begun with rather effortless things like he promised, before starting to test Luke's reactivity a bit further. Luke complied with great pleasure, soaring in space at his side while still watching out for him. They whirled and roam together with ease, going through increasingly complex motions. As much as he enjoyed showing off, Luke slowly tuned into Chaser's flying style, understanding the way he moved and predicting his next actions with more and more accuracy.
He was disappointed when Chaser called it off to return to standard patrolling. But he didn't have much time to regret it. A few minutes later, a radio call ordered them back to deck, relieved of their duty.
Return to normal gravity was a bit of an adjustment, and it took Luke a few seconds to regain his balance. Chaser didn't show any such trouble as he climbed down from his craft, however. He took his helmet off and shot Luke an unabashed smile.
"That was not bad at all for a first time, FNG," he said. "We may make a good team after all."
"That was great," Luke replied. "Same thing next time?"
Chaser chuckled.
"Too hungry for your own good, I see! You're gonna be a real pilot in no time. Just try to pay a bit more attention, wasn't always easy to catch you in the middle of your twists and twirls."
Luke nodded, still very hyped by the outing. The way his craft and his body reacted to each other, the feeling of being so small in the middle of the universe, yet having it so close it belonged to him... it was exhilarating. He already longed to go back; he'd spend his entire life out there if he could.
A nudge in his side tore him from his wistful contemplation of the launch doors.
"Come on, stars-head! Lunch time. Get a move on or there won't be anything left to eat."
It was only at that moment that Luke realised how famished he was. He hadn't eaten anything since leaving Prefsbelt IV, and so much had happened since then that he felt he could swallow an entire bantha.
Chaser and he walked through the grey corridors, going deeper into the ship. Finally they arrived at the low-grading officers' mess hall. There were but a few people there, around fifty perhaps. Soldiers' lunch time, especially pilots', depended on one's duty and shift schedule, so the mess was hardly ever full.
They stopped by the buffet to take their meal, some sort of stew Luke didn't recognise, then went to a table to eat. Five people were already seated there, and greeted them as they saw them coming.
"Chaser!" a thin and wiry red-haired man called, prompting Luke's wing mate to sit down next to him. Luke took the seat in front of them, earning a quick glance before the pilot turned back to Chaser. "Was starting to wonder if you'd show up at all. How come you're stuck babysitting?"
Chaser answered before Luke could protest.
"That here is our new kid, uh..." he said before frowning at Luke. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Luke Lars," Luke replied.
The man next to him, who had light brown hair and glassy eyes with a face looking like a toad's, turned towards him.
"So you're our f'ing new guy?"
"Yep, nice to meet you," Luke answered with a smile.
The other stared at him for a few more seconds. Luke did his best not to shrink under his scrutiny.
"You don't look like much," he finally said, then got back to his meal.
Chaser laughed.
"Don't mind Qorl," he told a confused Luke. "He's a great pilot, but what he's got in space he lacks in social skills."
"The Empire needs fighters, not chatterboxes," Qorl replied without even bothering to look up at them.
Chaser rolled his eyes, then proceeded to introduce Luke to all the others. There was Mauler, a tall and muscular man with a bionic eye who was Darth Vader's wingman and their leader in his absence; Backstabber, Chaser's red-haired neighbour; Dark Curse, the oldest of them all, still strong but carrying his age in his eyes; and Vil, a confident-looking Corellian who couldn't be more than a few years older than Luke. The young man took it in stride, determined to remember them all.
"So, Luke, is it?" asked Vil from across the table, leaning on his elbows. The short military hairdo suited him better than most people, and he had a friendly smile that immediately put Luke at ease. "Where do you come from?"
"Tatooine," Luke answered.
Vil made a face.
"Aw, tough. Never been there, but I've heard from people who have. Lots of travellers on Corellia. The Hutts don't make life too difficult?"
Luke shrugged, turning his spoon in his stew.
"You get used to it," he answered. "They mostly keep to the town, leave poor moisture farmers like my aunt and uncle alone. I only ever saw their agents at harvest time, when they tried to rob us of most of our crops. Wasn't sorry to leave that dust ball behind."
Vil laughed, a warm and relaxed sound.
"I can imagine! It was the same for me. Couldn't wait till I was off-planet. Space travel is in our blood, I guess!"
"Yeah," Luke smiled. It was nice to find someone who understood. "My father was a pilot too, so flying's definitely in my blood."
Vil raised his eyebrows in interest.
"Oh? What kind of pilot?"
Luke looked down with a grimace and swallowed his mouthful.
"I'm not sure, actually... I just know he fought for the Republic. I never knew him."
"I'm sorry," Vil said. He watched him more closely, a smile tugging at his lips. "You know, you don't really look like a clone."
Luke blinked.
"Uh, what?"
Vil looked at him in expectation, then his smile slipped from his lips as he noticed his joke fell flat.
"Oh, nothing," he waved. "Don't mind me. Most of the Grand Army of the Republic was made up of clones and Jedi, that's all. And since your old man couldn't be a Jedi..."
Luke's heart missed a beat, and he forced a laugh to conceal it.
"Haha, all right... Sorry, been a long time since history lessons," he said, taking care to keep his tone light-hearted.
"Nah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Vil replied. He looked as embarrassed as Luke was, which was nice, since it meant he probably hadn't noticed his discomfort. "Anyway, have you ever been to Coronet City?"
Luke said he didn't, and Vil started telling him why it was one of the best places of the galaxy, spicing it with tales of the spacers he had met there. Backstabber, who it turned out was also Corellian, chimed in too, and the both of them painted a colourful image. Luke listened to them with rapture; he had missed on so much on his small Tatooine! He'd thought of voyage and faraway places as much as stepping into a spacecraft, and the tales fed his imagination.
They had finished eating when Mauler stood up and demanded their attention. His red eye scrutinised each of them in turn.
"Boys, this afternoon I want to go over some squadron manoeuvres and tactics, as well as shift schedule and briefing of the next operations. Meet me in the command room in five."
He waited for the other pilots to confirm, then left the table.
"Better hurry," Vil advised. "Mauler is a decent guy, but he's strong about discipline and hates losing time above all else."
The six of them left their trays at the exit, and walked down the corridors to the meeting place. Chaser, Vil and Backstabber had started talking about TIE models, comparing them to Republic fighters. Dark Curse listened with a smile but didn't intervene much, and Qorl was walking on his own, a few steps in front of them.
Luke frowned. Something wasn't right. The light-hearted talk was off, a little forced, and he had no idea what was happening. For the first time since meeting them, he felt like an outsider, ignorant of the squadron's history and everything surrounding it.
Squadron's history... Suddenly he understood what had struck him as odd. He came closer to the others.
"Chaser, I was wondering," he said, seizing a lull in the conversation. "Have you guys been in battle recently?"
His wingmate frowned, and smiles fell, the air much heavier around them.
"Why do you ask?"
"Nevermind," Luke replied, starting to regret having brought this up at all. "I was just curious... I thought there were twelve people in a squad."
The others exchanged sombre glances.
"Yeah, that actually rarely happens," Chaser said. "Pretty book theory. Squads that remain complete don't see a lot of action."
Luke looked away, a pound of lead dropping in his stomach. He knew casualties were high in fighter squadrons, but hadn't been faced with the fact before now.
"It happened a little over three weeks ago. There was... I don't even know if we can call it a battle," Vil started to explain, exchanging a glance with the others. "It was an escort mission, easy and straight. Some kind of crystals for construction, they told us. A small shipment, but they needed a few TIEs to protect them for the beginning of their voyage. Turns out, wasn't such a bad idea after all. We weren't expecting trouble... but then, a whole squadron of Rebel ships came out of hyperspace."
"Rebels," grumbled Chaser. "We'd be at peace if not for them."
"We don't know how they knew we were going to be there," Dark Curse continued, light wrinkles edged around his eyes and on both sides of his hawk nose. "I doubt we'll ever learn if they were interested in our cargo or just blockading all Imperial ships. Anyway, they attacked us. They had good ships, the new X-Wings they got when Incom defected. We managed to drive them away, but took heavy losses."
"Five people in our squad, three in the other. Lord Vader was livid," recalled Backstabber. Luke opened wide eyes; that was a lot of people. "He wasn't flying with us, of course, but losing so many was a hard blow. Especially in such a small, simple, straightforward operation."
"You couldn't know they would attack," Luke intervened. "There was no way to foresee that."
"At least the shipment got away," Chaser replied. "Our superiors must have known there was a risk. That was the goal of the mission, and we succeeded. The rest doesn't matter."
The others nodded and felt silent, deep in their thoughts. The knot in Luke's guts didn't lessen any until they arrived in the command room.
There, Mauler didn't give them much time to brood. He had planned some formation training and immediately got down to business. Luke had to summon all his concentration to follow.
"As you know," Mauler said, "it's not enough to be in peak physical shape to be a pilot. Your mind must also be as swift and accurate as a starbird. You must notice everything, assess everything, and take quick decisions. That's why it is so important these formations be as natural as reflexes. Exert constant attention, gentlemen."
He assessed each of them in turn, taking the time to observe them, although Luke didn't know if he meant to see or to make them feel seen. He puffed his chest out and met his gaze with pride.
Mauler was precise and demanding. He talked about the recent movements of the enemies and what they thought it meant. He then reviewed a long list of squad formations, explaining in great detail their strengths, weaknesses and usefulness. After that, he wore them down in the flight simulators, watchful as a hawk and honing in on their smallest flaws.
"Good work, Black Five," he told Luke when reviewing their performances afterwards. "Your reflexes are excellent, but mind your surroundings and your partners' movements."
It was late when they were finally given leave. Luke stumbled towards the refresher, his mind swarming with attack and defence patterns, his head spinning. As he got into the sonic shower, he wondered if that was what they called "space-legs", or if the feeling was just due to the amount of new information he had received.
He relaxed under the soothing buzzing, sighing with content as he felt the muscles in his back unknot themselves. It was hard, in this environment, to keep worrying about casualty risks and death hazards. He knew his work was dangerous. He had accepted it long before applying for the Academy.
After all, it was war.
Summoned by this train of thought, another conversation jumped to the forefront of his mind, the one he'd had with Vil about his father. He really needed to watch his mouth better; he was already lucky the pilot hadn't pried further. He didn't want to know what would have happened, had he discovered Luke actually was a Jedi's son.
He shivered as he turned off the shower. No, bringing up Anakin Skywalker hadn't been smart at all. His aunt and uncle, when they had sat him down and explained everything to him, had been very clear his father's identity would put him in great danger.
At first, Luke had been angry at them for keeping the truth from him for so long, and telling him his father was a navigator on a spice freighter of all things. But he had soon understood. Jedi were enemies of the Empire. Word getting around at Luke's school that his father was one could have gotten him killed.
That was why Owen and Beru had been so reluctant to let him apply at the Academy. They had only relented after Biggs and Luke wore them down with months of pleas, complaints, and logical arguments. Even so, they had issued strict conditions for Luke's going, the biggest of those being that his heritage remain an absolute secret.
Luke bit his lower lip. For his whole training, he had managed to keep quiet, hard as it had been to keep his best friend out of the confidence. And now he nearly slipped up, in such a stupid way, too.
He wouldn't mention his father again, he decided while he dressed. That was the safest way to avoid unwanted scrutiny. Better to keep all his thoughts to himself, rather than risk questions he couldn't answer.
It was lucky Darth Vader hadn't been there. If there was one person in the whole Empire who could never know of his ascendency, it was him. Luke shivered by merely thinking about what would happen to him if the Emperor's most feared enforcer discovered his secret.
Once he was ready, he exited the refresher and locked his things away before collapsing on his bunk like dead weight. He hadn't thought a day could be so exhausting.
Sleep didn't take long to find him, and he fell in its grasp, dreaming of the stars.