Ever since he had joined the Vast Empire Navy’s Starfighter Corps., Grent had dreamed of joining one of the elite squadrons, and become a true Top Gun. However, to do that, he had to learn to fly a TIE/ad Avenger, which was a vastly superior fighter craft to the TIE Interceptor Grent was used to flying with Strill. Now, of course, they had switched over to the TIE Hunter, so learning how to fly yet another new craft might not have been the wisest move, but it was one Grent was happy to do.
Since being given the role of Flight Leader of Cresh flight, Grent had found himself with many new responsibilities, including the general welfare of his flight members. He still had a spot open on his flight, and had been looking with his SCO, the newly promoted officer, on potential candidates. As a gesture of sorts, Joamer had encouraged Grent to follow his dreams, and put the man into contact with some of the trainers, who, in turn, had hooked Grent up with a few hours of simulator time, to see how he got on. If he was good enough in there, he would be taught properly. But first, he had to impress a tough panel of judges, who had seen the best and the worst in their time. To them, passing or failing wouldn’t matter. They just wanted to see what he could do, and if he had the potential to become a great pilot. An Elite Pilot.
Grent walked calmly into the simulator room, his Strill, Tracyn, at his feet. With his left arm, he had his Katarn T-visor helmet tucked away, pressed against his side. His fingers on his right hand drummed nervously against his flight suited legs, as opposed to the Storm Commando armour which was his typical flying wear. Today, he wasn’t going to be doing any commando activities. That was the only downside that made itself prominent to Grent: being an elite pilot would be all flying, and no ground work. Perhaps he was being too hasty in his quest for the top status? Maybe. He could be the best pilot, and not be in the top squadron, couldn’t he? It might well be that he worked his way up to Strill SCO, and then stayed there until he was forced elsewhere by his superiors. That would be fun. Another alternative would be, if he found himself in the position of choice, joining VENI, so he would still be able to work on the ground from time to time.
The Mandalorian shook all other thoughts from his mind, as he reached the men and woman who would be assessing him. They were all fairly high ranking personnel, compared to his new Petty Officer rank. He shook hands with all of them, saluting the officer.
“Petty Officer,” said the officer, who was clearly in charge, “I’m Ensign Mathews. I’ll be your chief observer today, this is Chief Warrant Officer Grates,” the Ensign said, indicating the man to his right, “and Master Chief Petty Officer Jones,” indicating the woman to his left.
“A pleasure,” Grent said, smiling, as he returned the nods given by the mentioned personnel.
“Please head to simulator S-7, where Petty Officer Daryk will be teaching you the basics before you run though the test.”
Grent spoke his affirmative, saluted, then turned on his heel and went to his assigned simulator pod. Waiting for him was a scruffy looking man, also in a flightsuit.
“Alrigh’ mate? Don’t let those guys scare ya,” the man, who Grent guessed was Petty Officer Daryk, said as they shook hands, “You’ll do fine. Heard about your little shuttle ride from that asteroid a while back. Fine flying.”
“Thanks. The battle had virtually ended though, so it wasn’t much.”
“And modest too!” exclaimed Daryk, as he opened the pod, and indicated for Grent to get in.
Grent put on his helmet, and climbed in, ordering Tracyn to wait outside. The strill lay down by the door, and Grent looked at the unfamiliar controls.
“Different, eh? You’ll get used to it. Not much is that different from an Intercept’a, if I’m honest.”
Grent could see Daryk’s point: when he actually looked, all the buttons and readouts were in the right place, albeit slightly higher or slower. Some buttons were on the wrong side altogether. He looked at Daryk, “Shall we get started then?”
“You’re the boss.”
The simulator door closed, and in the brief darkness before the cockpit lit up, Grent focused on what he was about to do. On what he must do. On what had happened, and what will happen, should he succeed. He had to succeed, for himself if no-one else. He was now a leader. Responsible for the lives of three other men and women. He had to be the best, so they would survive. Learning to fly a superior craft would certainly help.
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The Avenger was nothing like anything Grent had ever flown before: fast, highly responsive … the ship oozed nothing short of epicness, and the pilots that flew in them regularly knew it. Even the simulated version was impressive, and Grent felt as though the superb starfighter was almost thinking for itself, and knowing what Grent would want it to do. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t already crashed. Twice, within the three hours he was in his pod, did the simulator have to be re-set. It was not due to Grent’s inability, but rather the fact that the Avenger was so agile that, when the Mandalorian had attempted to bank slowly through a deep canyon, he had applied too much force on the control column, which would have been fine for an Interceptor, but the Avenger needed much less, and had promptly careered into the canyon wall. The second time had been a similar incident, but this time whilst dog fighting against X-wings, and not realized how quickly the Avenger could do a barrel roll, causing him and one of the X-wings to … meet … Still, as he got out of the simulator pod, Grent knew that the Avengers were where he wanted to be. He wouldn’t trust himself in a real one just yet, but he felt good about his chances, and hoped that his collisions wouldn’t count against him.
He wasn’t disappointed.
When he met the judges, they all had grins on their faces, which they tried to hide, but in the end they gave up and beamed.
“How do you feel you did, Petty Officer?” the Ensign asked.
“Well, I’d say, sir. Takes some getting used to, but I think I got there,” Grent replied, returning the smiles.
“That’s a fair assumption.”
“Fair?!” came the voice from CWO Grates, “Did you see what he was doing? Notimo, was that your first time in an Avenger sim?”
“Yes, CWO.”
“There! You see? First time flying, and he only crashed twice.”
“Thank you, Chief Warrant Officer,” said the Master Chief quietly, “I think you’ve bolstered the Petty Officer’s ego enough.” She then turned to Grent, “You’ll hear from us soon. Dismissed.”
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Several days laterGrent was out on patrol with his new flight, running through some basic manoeuvres, when a female voice came over the comm.
“Iron Eight, this
Adjudicator. Over.”
“This is Iron Eight. What can I do for you,
Adjudicator. Over.”
“Iron Eight, you are to proceed back to base ASAP. Someone will meet you there. Over.”
“Roger that,
Adjudicator. Do you need the entire of my flight? Over.”
“Negative, Iron Eight. Just you. Over.”
“Roger, wilco. Out.” Grent switched to the channel used for private chat between his flight, “You heard the lovely voice. Someone loves me.”
“Or wants to throw you out of an airlock, Tops.”
Tops. Cresh had started calling him that. They called Joamer ‘Boss’, but he was ‘Top’ or ‘Tops’. He supposed it was some form of respect. Still felt strange being in charge, “Enough of that, Lady. Edge, you’re in charge. If I’m not back, or don’t make contact within twenty minutes, then land back on the
Adj. Until then, keep flying. Understood?”
“Understood, Top. Good luck.”
Grent broke formation, and flew back to the Imperial Star Destroyer. Perhaps one day, he would be on her bridge, commanding all his little underlings. The pilot chuckled, and decided he would try to make Cresh as good as he could make it first, before planning too far ahead.
Upon landing, Grent saw some uniformed men watching his fighter intently. The engines hadn’t even powered down yet, when they suddenly appeared by his cockpit.
“You need to come with us, sir.”
“Don’t call me ‘sir’. I’m not an officer: I work for a living. What’s this about?”
“You just need to come with us, s-.. Petty Officer,” was the only reply he got.
The Mandalorian pilot soon found himself back in the Avenger simulator, without a word, and was getting very worried that this was some sort of practical joke, when an unfamiliar voice came over the headset:
“Congratulations on passing initial selection, Petty Officer, and welcome to your week of hell.”
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Over the course of that week, Grent felt, at times, as though he really was in hell. Completely separated from his squadron, and his flight, he went through a boorish routine of almost continual simulator flying, with the occasional eating with his trainer (a Master Chief nicknamed ‘Boomer’) and a little sleep. The reason for this, was that, according to Boomer, there were too few Avenger pilots around, and, as such, a week long intensive flying training was currently being impletmented. It was around day four, that, instead of going to the simulator room, Boomer led Grent to the hangar, and for his first real flight in an Avenger. It was bliss. The simulator was good, but had nothing on the real thing. It exceeded Grent’s expectations in everyway.
On the final day of training, Grent found himself in the hangar beside some familiar faces …
“Top?”
“Lady? Edge? What are you doing here?”
“What are
we doing here? What are
you doing here? We were told you were on some secret mission to the other side of the galaxy or something!”
“No, I’m just here training on the Avenger. Real beaut …”
“If you lot have quite finished!” came a shout from Boomer, who was standing with a few other Interceptor pilots from Chlovi. They also looked nervous about the, obviously mysterious summons. Boomer gathered everyone around him, “Right then. Here’s the plan. Gur here needs to do a final exam, and for that, we need some of you lot.”
“Why us?” asked one of the Chlovi pilots.
“You’re not doing anything at the moment. Besides, don’t you want to shoot ‘im down?”
So that was his plan, Grent thought silently,
Fly around for a bit, and try to not get killed by 1, 2, 3 … 6 Interceptors.Boomer continued, “So: Chlovi pilots, Strill pilots, put aside any amnesty you have towards each other. You’re going to be working together to hunt Gurlanin. Gur? You have to hunt them before they get you.”
Now
that was a surprise. He had to hunt them down? Surviving was simple enough, but surviving against
and shooting down Interceptors, even in an Avenger, was going to be tough.
They all launched together, Grent in his Avenger, and Boomer leading the Strill and Chlovi pilots, making for seven enemy fighters. They were all equipped with ‘fake’ lasers, and sensors. If a pilot got ‘destroyed’, then his craft would flag it up on the HUD, and they would have to announce it on the comm and return to the hangar. Of course, if Grent was hit and ‘killed’, then it was all over.
He was determined not to let that happen.
Boomer led his makeshift squadron in the opposite direction to Grent, and then called “Begin!” over the comm. Immediately, Grent put on the throttle, and pull a sharp turn to bring him around to face the oncoming squadron. The best form of defence was attack, and in this situation, he needed all the defence he could get.
As soon as he saw the first silhouette of the fighters, he let rip with his lasers, leading with the green beams of light.
“I’m out,” came the voice from the other fighter, as Grent watched it change course, and head back towards the hanger. 1 down, 6 to go.
“You didn’t think it was really going to be that easy, did you Gur?” Boomer’s voice echoed through the comm channel, as green jets soared past the cockpit. Boomer had left the other fighter there as bait. The oldest trick in the book, and Grent had fallen for it. Disappointed with himself, the young pilot pulled evasive manoeuvres, utilising the agility of the craft to out perform the Interceptors, and get out of their line of fire.
Unable to keep a lock on the Avenger, the firing soon stopped. From inside his cockpit, Boomer looked around for his trainee, checking the scanner for any sign. Nothing, but his squadron. He commed to them now.
“Anyone see him?”
“Got nothing on scope. No visual either.”
Similar answers returned to the 30 year old. Boomer knew that Grent was around somewhere, and must be hiding behind something or another … Of course! “On my mark, break formation.”
“Roger” came the chorus of answers.
Just as he was about to give the order, a cry of, “I’m out!” followed by a “I see him, he’s rig-.. damn. I’m out too!” came from the fighters at the back of the squadron. Grent, in his dodging and weaving, had managed to get himself just underneath, and just behind the tail end fighters. It was a blind spot of the diamond formation, which Boomer was using. Having decided that he’d waited long enough, Grent went right behind the tail fighter, and shot him. Then, as he broke away, he shot the pilot next to him. Both ‘dead’ pilots flew away, and out of the battle, as Grent watched the remaining five starfighters reform into a V-shape formation. The Mandalorian wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick twice, he realised as the makeshift enemy squadron came straight for him, breaking just before arriving to maximise coverage. Grent had to really swerve to avoid the fire, and manage to pick up two Interceptors on his tail.
No matter where he went, they followed. He thought he’d managed to shake them off, before they regain him. The only thing that stopped them from gaining a lock, was the amount that Grent moved about. That’s when he saw another Interceptor heading straight towards him. Grent stopped moving around, and counted … 1 … 2 … 3! He barrel rolled, the laser bolts from in front and behind him narrowly missing their intended target, and instead hitting the two Inceptors who had fired, who had been so focused on Grent that they only saw that they missed.
With three ‘enemies’ left, Grent wasn’t surprised to find that it was Boomer, Lady and Edge, the fight was on more even ground. None of them could get a lock on him, but, equally, Grent was in their crosshairs so much that he couldn’t get many shots off. He would have to be devious. The next time someone was on his tail, he pulled back sharply on the yoke, flipping his craft over and behind the tail.
“I’m out. Thanks for that Tops.”
Just Edge and Boomer now. Edge had all but given up, knowing his fate was inevitable now, and without Lady’s aggressive pursuit keeping Grent occupied, Edge’s resigned voice soon also came over the comm.
“Just you and me now, Gur.”
“Nah. Just me, Boom.”
“We’ll see ..”
Boomer had been holding back, and it was only when he attacked Grent that his hand was revealed: whilst the others had been flying Mk. 1 Interceptors, Boomer was flying the latest model, which meant that he was able to, just about, keep up with Grent. He managed to land a number of hits on the Mandalorian, but nothing that the computer registered as a fatal hit. Even if he had been allowed to use the generous payload on the Avenger, the computer read that, due to where he had been hit, the missile launcher was 'out of commision'. If ever there was a time when he had wanted to use missiles, it was now. That was when Grent pulled out his trickiest manoeuvre. Just as Boomer was about to fire, Grent pushed forwards on the yoke, and simultaneously put on reverse thrusters. The result was that Grent spun to face Boomer, whilst still travelling at his original velocity.
“Oh, you little …”
Grent fired, and waited for moment before saying, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I’m out,” Boomer said, pursing his lips, “Well done.”
- OOC:
- WC: 2,819
AAR: I don't really know how to sum this up without re-typing it all, but here's the short version: Grent want to fly Avenger. Grent fly test sim. Grent pass test. Grent have intensive week long training, before having a mock battle against some Interceptors. Grent wins ... obviously.
What? It said he had to fly with superior skill, didn't it? 
EDIT: "He managed to land a number of hits on the Mandalorian, but nothing that the computer registered as a fatal hit. Even if he had been allowed to use the generous payload on the Avenger, the computer read that, due to where he had been hit, the missile launcher was 'out of commision'. If ever there was a time when he had wanted to use missiles, it was now."
