“Know what you’re doing Dav?” Slak asked as he jogged beside him.

“Nope,” Dav said, “not a clue.”

“That makes ten of us. Let’s go fly these boats.”

They separated at the scaffold, climbing ladders and hopping into the fighters.

Dav breathed in and out, knowing he had only a few seconds to relax and collect his thoughts before he could begin calling out the preflight checklist.

“Alright, Flight Senior,” Hublin’s voice crackled through the headset in the helmet sitting in Dav’s lap, “Are you going to begin the preflight checklist, or sit there twiddling your thumbs for the next hour?”

“Sir,” Dav said in what he hoped was a cool, clipped and efficient voice, “I’m waiting for my last pilot on Aurek wing to enter his craft- just did. Right. Okay, Aurek wing? Preflight check. Everybody settled?”

“Don't ask if they’re settled, Eccles. You’re not going for a holiday in some arcology wilderness dome back on Coruscant. You have them give a squad number check, and then they have to check their instrument panels.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir. Okay, er, alright, Black Sword Squadron, this is Flight Sen- I mean, this is Black One. Aurek wing- Report in!”

“Black Two, standing by!” said Jada.

“Black Three, standing by!” said Slak.

“Black Four, standing by!” said Norrin, the excitement in his voice barely detectable as a small squeak escaped his lips.

“Black Five, standing by,” said Bondo. His voice was quiet, without any of it’s usual hesitations.

Dav inhaled again. He remembered that as wing leader he didn’t need to call out that he was Black One. Nor did Hublin have to call out as Black Leader. He wondered if Porkins was as nervous as he was, or if they were ‘Black’ numbers in their wing as well. No matter. He wouldn’t hear from Porkins, Solo, or any of Besh wing unless they had specific business or instructions.

A simple escort run. Now, remember the procedures. He’d been drilled with them enough over the past few weeks- or maybe months?

“Right, squad? Auxiliary fuel pumps, off. Flight controls free and correct? Instruments and radios, checked and set. Directional gyros, set? Fuel gauges- checked? Checked. Yes. Okay, trim and flaps…”

With each point he ticked off, he could feel the others pushing buttons, checking gauges, panels and readouts, and then pushing more buttons to show that all was well. Yes, this was going to be something that… “Belts and harnesses? Helmets on? Links all up? Ok- Wing Commander, Aurek wing checks out, ready for duty!”

“Copy that Flight Senior,” Crackled Hublin’s voice through the comlink. “Sending launch signal to hangar crew. Aurek wing, prepare for launch.”

Dav inhaled as he saw the giant crane arm lumber to life and begin moving towards the row of TIE fighters. It first chose the bent-winged command fighter that Hublin flew in, plucking it up and sweeping it over to the launch bay. Hublin fired up the engines to a pale blue, and then a bright white glow as he approached the open docking bay doors.

Dav inhaled as the crane released Hublin’s ship. It bobbed for just a second, and then took off to the predetermined spot where they were supposed to form up. Dav swallowed nervously. What if he couldn’t keep the ship still? What if he could get the others to keep their ships still? What then?

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The issue was settled when the crane grabbed Dav’s ship. As his ship clanked and luched towards the docking bay, he tried hard not to think about how many times he and everyone else had miffed this part in the sims. As it turned out, he had no need to worry. He’d been flying twice a day for the several weeks since the incident with the sims, and the sims had proven to be far more demanding than the real thing. Within a few seconds he was deposited unceremoniously out through the hangar bay and into the drifting void of space.

Dav looked around, as much as his bulky black helmet would let him. The Adeptus was behind him and the planet was in front, swathed in blue clouds. Who knew what kind of civilization, if any, lived down there?

“Black One,” said Hublin’s voice over the comm, scratchy and with a slight echo, as if he was talking to him through a metal can full of buzzing insects. “Black One, quite admiring the scenery and point yourself over here. Get behind me and down into formation.”

Dav looked at his monitor. Hublin’s ship in relation to his own was clearly marked. Dav eased his ship over to the fighter that his monitor assured him was Hublin’s. He took up position in the designated spot and waited for the other members of his team to join him.

“Black One,” Hublin chirped over the comlink , “this is Black Leader. Do you copy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Switching to secure channel. Eccles,” Hublin’s voice sounded different now. Clearer. Secure channels were used for privileged information. “Eccles, you’ve shown a lot of leadership potential as of late. Are things moving smoothly as Flight Senior?”

“Yes sir. All well, sir.”

“Good. Eccles. We’re on a secure channel right now, by the way. No one else can hear us. Once again, your ability to lead is a rare gift. And it’s one I may need to call upon soon. Can I count on you to act as a leader when the time comes?”

“Sir? I’m not sure I understand.”

Jada and Slak had taken their positions as Dav’s wingmen. On the monitor, Dave saw Bondo’s craft approaching, and Norrin’s fighter begin its approach as it left the bowels of the star destroyer.

“We’ll talk more later, Eccles. Suffice to say now that I’ll need a leader among the cadets soon, and I think you’re what we need. Be prepared for when your opportunity hits, Eccles. Understand?”

“Yes sir!” said Dav, feeling flushed with pride. Receiving a rare compliment from your officer was good enough. But to hear that he had an opportunity coming your way was even better!

“Alright, Aubrek wing,” Hublin said, his voice made tinny over the now open channel, “we’re going to move forward and let Solo pull Besh wing up behind and catch up to us. Right now, people, we have a very steady hour of impulse-speed flight down to a station floating in the atmosphere below.”

“Hey,” said Norrin, “I think I know what planet that i-“

“Cut your chatter, Black Four,” Dav said. “We’re not on an exercise in the sim. Out here, we maintain silence unless something relevant to the mission arises.”

“Yes, Flight sen- I mean, yes, Black One,” Norrin said, his sarcasm barely discernible. Dav settled into his flight chair more comfortably, and set his ship to match the speed of Hublin’s fighter up ahead. He’d been told in leadership class that the hardest thing to do when you were promoted was to enforce a measurable emotional distance between yourself and your subordinates. Really, though, it hadn’t been that hard at all.

On the scanner, he saw Solo, Porkins and the rest of Besh catching up behind them. “Nice of you to join us, Second Lieutenant Solo,” Hublin said.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Lieutenant Hublin,” Solo answered, the snark unmistakable in his voice.

Dav couldn’t quite figure out if it the comment was meant in good-natured ribbing or genuine sarcasm; the relationship between their senior and junior officer never seemed to be quite set in stone, but changed from day to day.

Well, no time to worry about that now.

They had a mission to fly.

#

...TO BE CONTINUED....