And then, something happened that no one thought would ever happen.
Second Lieutenant Solo smiled.
For most of the cadets, their only real sight of Solo had been his perpetual scowling while Hublin yelled at them for everything from a misstep during drill to having an unpolished boot or a hair out of place during the morning inspection.
In fact, in the two months since they'd first reported for flight school as pilots in the Navy, and for thirteen weeks before that, none of them could remember anyone in authority over them cracking a smile at all.
And yet, here was an officer suddenly smiling, and now chuckling. And now laughter, real laughter was coming out of his mouth.
"Sir!" Slak shouted, "Something else this whole ship should know! The whole boat, sir! We are Four Flight- and we rock the boat!"
"We rock the boat!" Porkins shouted!
"We rock the boat!" Gaab shouted from the rear rank, his pale lips and long tribal ponytail bobbing as he turned it into a rhythmic chant.
"Allright, Four flight,"" Solo said, his voice like that of a teacher intending to restore a group of unruly children to order. "Is that what you people think?"
They were silent for a second.
"Your Flight Senior took on a challenge, and by all accounts, he responded in a way that would give credit to any soldier, fighting to win, and fighting fair. When possible." This last was added with a quick pause, and a few cadets chuckled even though they shouldn't have.
"And then another one of you beat five members of Two Flight in a game of wits, skill, and using circumstances beyond your control to your advantage. Sounds a lot like flying a TIE fighter to me."
More chuckles.
"And then, best of all: Today, you united when one of your own needed help, both in a situation with no adversary-" he looked at Bondo, "and one who faced multiple adversaries. There was no 'well, I like him but-' moments. There was only this: One of us was in trouble, and you all pulled together with what you could" he stopped in front of Norrin, who kept his dark eyes looking forward, "to get him out of trouble."
"And what's unique about your group is this: You are Four Flight. We told you on the first day that you were the bottom of the bunch here. And yet, you have all united, and whether it was in sports or an outright brawl, you people took on cadets from just about every other, 'better' group, and you did more than just prevail! You knocked them around like knucklebones in a Degobahan's dice cup, and came back for more! You did more than anyone expected, and you've upset the order of things! In short, as we say on my world, you people really did rock the boat!"
"We, rock, the boat!" Slak shouted again, using the very phrase Solo had used as an insult to Slak on his first day, pumping his fist in the air and looking right at the nearest camera.
"Is that the best you people can do? Is it? Do it again! This time, I want them to hear you all way on Alderan!" Solo screamed. If he wasn't smiling, a casual observer might have thought they were all in trouble.
"We, rock, the boat!" they roared, their voices echoing out the door and into the hallway.
“WE, ROCK, the BOAT!"
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Every cadet in Four Flight now stood at attention, roaring in unison and pumping their fist in the air. There was no defiance of Solo in their actions, and Solo knew this. There was only the sense of release from the belief that they were somehow less than the other cadets who had also scored in the top ranks of the recruited throughout the galaxy.
The voices bounced and echoed throughout the hallway outside, and through a hellish trick of acoustics, One Flight heard the shouts of Four Flight, as Tedig led his young charges in push up after push up.
“Steady up!” shouted Tedig, irked at yet another of Solo’s forays. He’d seen otherwise well-run groups suddenly loosen up and lose their toned-up fear of their leaders when Solo was involved. And now, he knew he was going to have an even tougher time bringing his flight to heel because of the alleged ‘punishment’ that the cadets of Four Flight were enduring apparently involved shouts more appropriate to cheering sports teams than instilling fear and discipline into those beneath him.
A chat with Captain Ozzel was in order.
#
Four Weeks Later
#
“Right, steady up!” shouted Hublin. “Everybody, ah-ten-shun!”
Boom!
“Flight Senior, have you assembled your team?”
“Yes, Flight!” shouted Dav.
“Good. After morning inspection, have them in the briefing room. Morning duty roster, people!”
Where there once would have been barely suppressed groans, there now wasn’t a single noise to be heard. The only thing anybody heard was the chatter of an R2 unit as it drove by, and stopped for a second to regard the flight.
“Don’t look around!” yelled Hublin suddenly. “What’s the matter, Cadet Mek? Haven’t you ever seen a droid before? Now,” he continued, without pausing for a reply, “Duty roster for FourthDay: First Aid, Cadet Sanddancer. Safety, Cadet Gaab. Mek, Porkins, you two are on hangar deck...
#
“Sir, Flight Senior Dav Eccles reporting as ordered!”
Dav stood at attention in the mid-sized meeting room, trying hard to ignore the two neat rows of chairs in front of the viewing monitor-whenever he felt the most tense lately he felt a powerful urge to sit and hide, but that kind of want had been fading with time.
In front of him stood Lieutenant Hublin and 2nd Lieutenant Solo. Both were dressed in full flight uniform, their tunics and trousers pressed, their wedge hats cocked at a perfect angle, and their sidearms in their holsters. Not a bad sign, but a good indicator that they'd just come from a meeting themselves, and things were serious.
Behind Dav, in a line that stretched from left to right, were Bondo, Jada, Slak and Norrin. It had been a hard choice to make, and Dav knew there were more than a couple of hurt feelings in the flight over his choices. But one thing he’d learned over the past week: even though he’d gotten close to just about everybody in the flight, there was no doubt now who the top cadets in the flight were. Jada had always been the top Cadet where it counted most; thus far, no one in the Flight could match her in the training exercises once they’d moved from sims to actual flight exercises in the vacuum of space with their TIE fighters. Bondo, once he’d finally gotten over his claustrophobia, was amazing in the sims, second only to Norrin and Slak, in fact. Norrin had the ability not only to repair just about any in-flight mechanical or computer issues that arose in the fighters, but had moved almost seamlessly from piloting in sims and games to the real thing, once they’d learned their crucial mistake in the hangar-bay sim. Slak had been a quick thinking pilot in every sim situation; not a leader, but a quick actor who would size up a situation and either jump to the front of a column to neutralize a threat or watch the back of another pilot who missed an enemy zeroing in on them..
Now, the five of them stood at attention, eager young pitchers waiting to be filled up with orders.
Hublin and Solo looked at them quietly for a moment. Hublin, at attention, said, “Squad, stand at-ease.”
Five Cadets slammed their left foot exactly eighteen inches away from their right, and folded their hands behind them.
“Staaaand, easy,” Hublin said, using a speech cadence that had been repeated for centuries. Dav and his team put their arms at their sides, their balled up fists up against their pantlegs.
“Relax,” said Solo, finishing the ritual of standing tense to standing with a relaxed air.
“Right, people,” Hublin said. His speech was even more clipped and efficient than usual. “Second Lieutenant Solo and I have a little mission for you lot. Apparently, it’s so simple high command thinks even you cretins can accomplish it. Take a seat and watch the screen."
-----
TO BE CONTINUED....