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Author	Topic: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Author's comments up 9/9+more
Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/23 7:47am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/20 - Date Edited: 6/23 7:52am (1 edits total) Edited By: Jedi_Perigrine
	Thumper09 posted: Great story so far! A-wings are sweet. The ring sims brought back some fond memories of playing the X-wing computer game and dumping all of my energy into the A-wing's engines to see how fast I could get through the gates in the practice course. You've got some fascinating characters here, from Brosh to Pascal and everyone in between, and I'm looking forward to getting to know the rest of the squadron as well. The story about Wedge's not-so-glamorous flight in an A-wing was great, hee hee. He left the confused droid behind, insufficiently programmed to understand what had just happened. Brosh understood exactly how it felt. I really liked that part. Great job! -Thumper EDIT: Sorry, I knew I forgot something. You did a very nice job with the action in this last post. It flowed well and was easy to follow while still keeping the pace up. Kudos! Thanks very much, Thumper! Coming from you that means a lot! I hope you stick around; feel free to make suggestions at any time! (That goes for anybody) darth muis posted: Nice update Peri! You write space combat really well. I'm impressed. Can't wait to see where this story goes! Thanks Muis! It must be all those flight sims I played (Probably Star Wars Galaxies, though I never did play any of the X-wing games, unfortunately ). This story has much more to come, stay tuned. stroja posted: Terrific action scene! Very convincing, and I really liked the intensity of him being in someone else's sights for the entire second half. I doubt that will be the last time he's in front of someone else's sights! Thanks very much for reading. Stay tuned for tomorrow's update! And while I (hopefully) have your attention, I'd like to thank WHOEVER it was who nominated me for an award in the Saga Fanfic category! I am humbled and honored! -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 6/23 12:26pm Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/20
	He left the confused droid behind, insufficiently programmed to understand what had just happened. Brosh understood exactly how it felt. I feel that way on a daily basis! Great update! -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/24 7:52am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/20 - Date Edited: 6/24 7:59am (1 edits total) Edited By: Jedi_Perigrine
	VaderLVR64 posted: He left the confused droid behind, insufficiently programmed to understand what had just happened. Brosh understood exactly how it felt. I feel that way on a daily basis! Great update! Must be a symptom of getting old, Master. screams like a girl and runs for his life Thanks for reading! Here's the next installment! I had to break it up because by itself it was just too durn large. Enjoy! ______________________________ Over the next two weeks, the A-wing squadron was put through dozens of scenarios and split into different groups. Most often, Brosh and Greigh were put on separate teams. It usually came down to a contest between the two of them, with the Rodian coming out on top just over half the time. But, as ranked by kill scores, Brosh was in the lead for the sim unit by a fair margin. Vlad was the best tactician, though, so having the third highest kill score didn’t bother him much. The other nine pilots were good too; it was just hard to tell how good since they seemed to be destroyed in the first ten minutes of an engagement. For his own morbid curiosity, Albanas formed Brosh, Greigh and Vlad, plus the sentient with the fourth highest kill score—a Bothan by the name of Kri’ifi into a unit. The four of them were challenged against the other eight members of their class. The colonel meant it as a way to let the other pilots have a chance at scoring a kill on those who usually did them in. Their egos were only damaged further however, since only Vlad was snuffed. As the rest of the class single-mindedly pursued Brosh and Greigh, Kri’ifi was able to pick many of the other pilots off one by one and he ended the battle with the highest number of kills. Frustration mounted in the rest of the pupils. After that exhibition, several of them spoke to the colonel and asked if they should drop out. Albanas insisted they stay and told Vlad of their disgruntlement. Vlad approached Brosh and Greigh, asking sarcastically if the two ‘hotshot’ pilots would help their comrades. On a move that seemed out of character, the Rodian agreed right away. Brosh balked briefly and was puzzled at his disappointment, wondering why he should be so selfish with his advice. When he realized that with his help, the others could be better pilots and that might save their lives one day, he couldn’t deny them his assistance. Now, after their evening meal—and with the colonel’s blessing (and private access codes handed to Vlad with a wink and a nudge)—the entire squadron hopped back into the simulators for a round or two every evening. Steadily their performance improved. The bell curve went from highly skewed, with the top three or four pilots making up the bulk of the kills, to a more normal shape. Pilots who were thought of as average became better and even managed to space Greigh and Brosh on a semi-frequent basis. What surprised Fang most of all was the amount he himself learned while helping to instruct his squadmates. Despite fearing a decrease in his skill, Brosh felt like he was becoming a better pilot than ever. Maybe it was the extra time in the simulated cockpit. Maybe it was the time they spent analyzing their holofootage. Maybe it was because Albanas occasionally came through, giving several hours of his own time and pointing out errors. Whatever the case, Brosh felt improvement. He was still the leader in kills, although by a much slimmer margin. Kri’ifi had made great improvement as well; he and Greigh were now see-sawing back and forth as to who was number two. Vlad slipped to a comfortable number five in kills, but he was most frequently on the winning team, providing instructions and tactical support. Sometime during the sixth week after Colonel Pascal had left on his escort assignment, Brosh staggered into bed. Just after his head hit the pillow—or so it seemed anyway; in reality it was over three hours—Brosh’s comm blared a loud warning siren startling him from sleep. “Hostiles are attacking the station! All hands to battle stations!” What? Brosh’s groggy mind protested. We’re on Coruscant, not a station. Aren’t we? He floundered in confusion after he flopped out of bed, groping around for his flight suit and helmet. Moments later, Albanas’ voice clarified what was going on. “Head to your simulators, boys and girls! This is a scramble drill. Nobody ever wants to be part of one, but you all will be, I guarantee it. Move it! Anybody who’s not here in three minutes will do a very unpleasant essay.” With one foot halfway into his blue jumpsuit, he stumbled and had to hop around. At the same time, he digested what the colonel had said. Brosh quickly finished dressing and grabbed his helmet and tucked a ration bar into one of his pockets, just in case. After sprinting through the dormitory to the simulator room, he discovered most of the simulator hatches closing. He dove into his cockpit and hurried through his warm-up sequence, catching two easily solved mechanical errors in the process. As he rechecked his systems, he noticed a third—the same sneaky error Colonel Pascal had inserted on his last assignment. Brosh spared a few seconds to wonder where the colonel was now, and if he was on his way home yet. Vlad’s voice pulled him out of his mostly-conscious reverie. “All right gang, here we go. I’m taking Lead, if there are no objections.” “Go for it, Vlad,” Brosh replied, thrilled that he wasn’t going to be expected to fill the role. “Just tell me who to blow up, baldy,” Greigh teased. The green blips of eleven of his squadron mates were displayed on his scanners, each of them having been assigned a unit number. To his satisfaction, Brosh had been labeled as Six, just as he had been in his first sim with the class. “Wizard,” Vlad said, pleased. “This is Green One. All units, report status.” Everybody was ready for launch. “Here are your wing assignments.” He rattled off several pairings. Vlad had taken Kri’ifi who was Green Five as his partner. That surprised Brosh for a moment, then he realized that by having a keener wingman, Vlad could focus more energy on coordinating the battle. “Six, I’ve put Green Seven with you.” “Affirmative. Try not to wander off this time, okay, Tchurgl?” The female Quarren chuckled to herself. “It’s less of a case of wandering off. More like you flying me into confusion.” “Try to keep the comm open for me, stow the idle chatter.” Slightly embarrassed, Brosh acknowledged by double clicking the comm button resting under his left ring finger on the throttle. Vlad hurriedly handed out the other wingmate assignments. “Not bad, boys and girls, not bad. Especially not for the first time.” the colonel announced. “Seven minutes from initial alert. A good squadron should be able to muster in four minutes or less. I recommend you work out wing assignments on your own later, so you can save a minute next time.” A whole series of comm units double-clicked in acknowledgement. “Good! Here’s the scenario. You are the only wing of fighters on a remote scientific outpost. There are a few turbolasers on the station but this encounter is all about you twelve, so don’t count on them too much. A pirate fleet has dropped out of hyperspace. Scanners are showing a few dozen fighters and one large bulk freighter. The content of enemy squadrons are unknown as of yet, you’ll have to figure those out for yourself. I will play the part of the station commander. You have permission to launch. Good luck!” “Green Squadron, let’s get out there and kick some butts!” The dozen A-wings launched from the hangar bay, quickly sliding into a precise wedge formation. As they raced towards the enemy formations, Vlad increased the gain on his scanners to update the squadron. “Green One here. This is gonna be fun, gang. I’m reading half a dozen X-wings in the lead. A dozen Y-wings and fifteen B-wings follow behind. Looks like the freighter is staying out of it for now. Six through Twelve, you snag those X-wings. The rest of us will go for those Y-wings.” “What about the B’s? Aren’t they more of a threat?” Kri’ifi asked. “To us, yeah. It’ll be up to you to stay out of their range. But the Y-wings are bombers and more of a threat to the station. Since defending that is our primary goal, we can’t save them for last.” The Bothan hid his nervousness by clicking his comm twice. Brosh hid his by saying nothing at all. “We’re coming into range. Use your missiles when you can! Break and attack. Get ‘em!” The enemy ships were in groups of three or four. Each mini-squadron was spaced out from their comrades in such a way that they could all fire their weapons without the fear of hitting each other. With their nimble rolling, the A-wings snapped out of formation, closing in on the enemy two by two. “Everybody lock onto an X-wing,” Brosh told his group. “Fire concussion missiles at close range, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Just then, the enemy fleet opened fire, sending a massive barrage of red and blue projectiles their way. As the first the first volley passed, it almost gave the impression of piloting through a very brightly colored hyperspace lane. The pairs of A-wings danced around the dangerous energy, opening fire at the aggressors themselves. The pirates’ ships were a good deal larger than Green Squadron’s, so even at long range a few shots penetrated the enemy’s formation and shields. A pair of X-wings broke up under concentrated fire. The closer they got, however, the more accurate the pirate pilots became. The A-wings were forced concentrate more fully on dodging between the darts of destruction. As a result of their maneuvers, they had to focus less on hitting the enemy. At the same time, erratic flying made it nearly impossible for the enemy to get a missile lock on the defenders’ interceptors. When the distance between the two groups had shrunk to almost nothing, Brosh’s group fired their missiles. Several blue trails meandered off in random directions due to enemy countermeasures, but between the six interceptors, they managed to destroy two more X-wings. As an added bonus, the baffled missiles managed to scatter a formation of Y-wings. One Y-wing was even hit, though its shields held. Two fighters remained of his target group. “Seven, take out the X-wing on the right. The rest of you go keep the B-wings off Vlad.” Brosh and his wingmate half rolled, crisply swinging around enemy fire and hooking in behind the startled X-wing pilots. The other four ships in Brosh’s unit peeled off towards some B-wings, rocketing through the crowded formation of Y-wings, sending the bombers into scattering evasive patterns. “Thanks Six. Make sure you watch your own tails, too,” Vlad cautioned everybody. Greigh and his wingman Green Three took out a pair of bombers each. They were about to move on to the next pair when Green Four’s voice screeched over the comm. “Turrets! Some of the bombers have-“ His voice fizzled and the quick burning flame of a destroyed A-wing flared, then gutted out. Vlad’s tone was measured, almost as convincing as an experienced squadron commander. “Watch the Y-wings. Some of them have operable turrets behind the pilot. Come in from below, if possible.” Double-clicks answered him quickly. Meanwhile, Brosh had finished off his X-wing and was moving to assist his wingmate. Seven was having some trouble with hers, and rightly so. Her target was much more actively maneuvering, even tried to cut back around and start firing on one of the A-wings. But with two sets of blasters on his case, their shots overwhelmed the ship’s shields and turned him to spacedust. “X’s are taken care of, Lead,” Brosh said. “Where do you want us next?” Just as the words left his mouth, he saw a group of six bombers racing for the station. Instinctively he hauled around and started chasing them. “Good idea,” Vlad said as he saw Brosh’s line of thought. He was obviously distracted. “You with me, Seven?” “Right behind you, Six.” “Light em up!” The two A-wings chased after the bombers with afterburners flaring and throttles ahead full. “Ready missiles, prepare two, staggered launch.” “Copy.” The two pilots did their best to ignore the distraction of the usual chatter, but some statements penetrated their concentration. A trio of voices announced, “I got one!” followed quickly by Greigh’s dismayed voice. “I’ve lost Green Three!” “Green Leader to Green Two: form up on me.” “These damn bombers have some thick shields!” someone else complained. “Can someone get these B-wings off my back?” Just as Brosh and Green Seven were reaching a range where they could be somewhat accurate with their blasters, turrets opened fire at them from behind. Brosh didn’t like how close their shots came to hitting. They were also in a very annoying formation where each of the six bombers was oriented in such a way that there wasn’t any way of approaching one without being in range of at least one set of turrets. The two A-wing pilots were forced to do more evading than accurate shooting, though that didn’t stop them from going wild with their guns. Even though the bombers were in a loose formation, a few of their shots landed on different Y-wings, at least weakening the shields. A sensation of danger tickled the back of his mind and he checked his sensors just in time. Four B-wings were angling in from below, heading towards their port side. “Incoming! Fire missiles and break to port!” Green Seven’s second missile sped free of its tube and had to veer hard to the right to get back on target. As the missiles streaked on, Brosh and Tchurgl had placed themselves directly into the B-wings’ line of fire. With desperate twitches, they each juked, doing their best to avoid fire. Brosh’s ship shuddered once as a blast caught his ship. His bloodstream dumped more adrenaline in as he nearly panicked, afraid he was about to be destroyed. More erratic flying slid the pair out of the enemies’ crosshairs. With a little luck, both he and his wingmate had made it past the heavy fighters, though not unscathed... -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/24 8:19am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Sorry for those of you who got incomplete links in their PMs! Apparently I'm not awake yet. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 6/25 4:47am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	It's always amazing how much the TEACHER learns! I think I learned more when I homeschooled than my kids did. Okay, hopefully NOT. Anyway, loved the update and this bit in particular: What surprised Fang most of all was the amount he himself learned while helping to instruct his squadmates. Despite fearing a decrease in his skill, Brosh felt like he was becoming a better pilot than ever. Maybe it was the extra time in the simulated cockpit. Maybe it was the time they spent analyzing their holofootage. Maybe it was because Albanas occasionally came through, giving several hours of his own time and pointing out errors. Whatever the case, Brosh felt improvement. He was still the leader in kills, although by a much slimmer margin. Kri’ifi had made great improvement as well; he and Greigh were now see-sawing back and forth as to who was number two. Vlad slipped to a comfortable number five in kills, but he was most frequently on the winning team, providing instructions and tactical support. -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/26 9:06am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	VaderLVR64 posted: It's always amazing how much the TEACHER learns! I think I learned more when I homeschooled than my kids did. Okay, hopefully NOT. Anyway, loved the update and this bit in particular: Heheh I know. It's always amazing how instructing others can help you learn stuff. Or solidify it in your mind. Thanks for reading, Master! -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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Stroja Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 6/26 1:34pm Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Jedi_Perigrine posted: ... Aaaahhhhh you left us hanging! I know it's just a sim, but I want to know how it turns out -----signature----- Causality - A Far-future saga: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28556597 Will engage in repartee for gourmet food.
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Darth Muis Registered: Mar '00	Date Posted: 6/26 1:58pm Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Wonderful update. I'm increasingly impressed by your insight into starfighter combat and by the way you write it. Very exciting stuff! Keep up the good work. -----signature----- Talon Intelligence Squadron: Book Three! http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28952461 Tales from the Intelligence Gala! (TIS spin-off!) http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28600431 "Once a Talon, always a Talon."
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/27 7:51am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Stroja posted: Jedi_Perigrine posted: ... Aaaahhhhh you left us hanging! I know it's just a sim, but I want to know how it turns out I know, I'm evil. I wasn't born that way, but the dark side seduced me... Don't worry, I'll wrap it up in a minute. Thanks very much for following Brosh's story! darth muis posted: Wonderful update. I'm increasingly impressed by your insight into starfighter combat and by the way you write it. Very exciting stuff! Keep up the good work. Thanks a lot, Muis! Really appreciate the kind words. Now, back to the combat! "Brilliant" Brosh and his wingmate had just flown through some enemy fire... ____________________________________________ “I’ve lost my starboard stabilizer,” Brosh announced as he made his computer run a diagnostic to survey the damage. His ship seemed to be relatively unharmed, despite the close call. How much longer that would last, he didn’t know, but so far maneuverability wasn’t suffering too much. “I lost a blaster, but she’s holding together for now. Let’s go get those suckers!” Brosh used his heads up display to select his target for blasters. With a slightly unstable turn, he zipped around, coming in behind the chosen B-wing. As he poured fire into the back of the heavy fighter, he risked a glance at the bombers speeding towards the station. He was only partially mollified by the apparently destruction of two of the Y-wings their missiles had caused. The four B-wings split into singles, one content to try and maneuver ahead of Brosh’s fire, the other trying to snake around and get on his tail. The other pair was performing the same way as Green Seven’s lone blaster plinked away at the enemy’s mighty shield. “Lead, I can’t get to the bombers with these B-wings on my back.” “Sorry Six, looks like everybody’s got their hands full at the moment.” A new voice joined the din. “They’re coming closer!” Wailed Colonel Albanas in his best panicked scientist voice. The authoritative way he made his voice crack gave the impression he had heard similar voices many times in the past. Finally succumbing to the damage, the B-wing ahead of Brosh showered sparks and tumbled apart. With a quick rolling climb, then a deep dive and pitch off to starboard, Fang slid out from the trailing heavy fighter’s lasers just being missed by a stream from behind that would have obliterated his little interceptor. “I’ve lost Five!” Vlad shouted, calm nearly forgotten. “Stay on ‘em boys!” “I’m about to have a tail,” Seven announced, her voice a little rattled. “I’m almost through this guy’s shields though.” Obviously she didn’t want to peel off now and give the enemy pilot a chance to regenerate or reposition his shields. “Sit tight Seven, I’m on my way.” After checking on the B-wing he had just avoided and making sure it wasn’t going to be able to reform behind him anytime soon, Brosh throttled around and snuck in behind Seven’s assailant. He tried for a missile lock, then opened up with full blasters, hoping to dissuade the pirate from getting good shots at his wingmate. “Keep moving, Seven! This guy’s not taking a hint.” Brosh was pleased as Tchurgl started zig zagging unpredictably. Finally Brosh got a lock on his target. The missiles erupted from the launchers and connected, turning the heavy fighter into slag. Quick hands on the flight stick dodged the debris and he started maneuvering in towards his wingman. “Nice shot, Six. You’ve got the right idea. Missiles locked and firing!” Brosh’s eyes widened in utter surprise as the A-wing beside him spontaneously blew up. One lone missile raced towards the B-wing’s aft and detonated, taking off armor. Completely astonished, Brosh still had the presence of mind to launch another volley of blaster bolts at the heavy fighter. After only a couple of hits, that pirate disintegrated at last. “Seven is gone!” he shouted, trying to locate the last B-wing. There it was. Right behind him, firing all four of his weapons. He pulled up, using the afterburners to gain as much altitude as he could, then he completed the tight loop, finding himself behind the much slower ship. A few moments of concentrated blaster fire started spewing armor chunks, despite the enemy’s attempts at evasion. Where maneuverability was concerned, the A-wing simply outclassed it. The last B-wing finally emitted its last shower of sparks and blossomed into a short-lived fireball. Brosh didn’t understand what had happened to his wingmate. Even though Tchurgl wasn’t dead, her loss was felt deeply. He shook his head clear, realizing this wasn’t the time to wonder. Just as he checked the space near the station for the enemy bombers, he found them launching their first salvo. “We’re going to diiieeeee,” the colonel’s overly dramatic voice screamed. As the barrage of eight guided bombs hurtled onward, Brosh watched his scanners closely, fearing that the station wouldn’t be able to withstand that much firepower. Fortunately, the stations shields held, though it was clear they wouldn’t be able to take many more hits like that again. “I’m on my way to intercept the bombers,” Brosh said, slamming his throttle up to full and activating his afterburners. The loss of his stabilizer meant he only fishtailed a bit. “Any chance I can get some help?” “I’m on my way, Six,” Vlad said. Brosh willed his ship to go faster. The bombers were about to turn around and launch another salvo. “What’s the score?” someone asked. “We’re down six ships, but they’re down to a few B-wings and those last four bombers,” Vlad responded after a moment’s checking. “And that giant freighter over there.” Someone swore imaginatively. Greigh let out a curse of his own. “Hey. Doesn’t that station have turbolaser batteries?” “Commander?” Vlad demanded. “Why aren’t you manning your defensive turrets?” “You only had to ask,” the colonel whined, as if it were their fault for not knowing. Bright blue ion bolts lit up the darkness of space from half a dozen embankments spaced somewhat strategically through the egg-shaped structure. Two of the bombers flared out immediately. The other two just barely managed to come about before the station’s fire took them out as well. “You mean Seven and I chased those damn bombers down for nothing?” Vlad ignored the bitter statement. “Regroup and finish off those B-wings. Then we’ll worry about that freighter.” Greigh broke into the conversation. “Let’s just worry about that freighter. Green twelve is on the last B-wing.” “Why don’t you go scout it out and see how heavily armed that thing is, Two?” Brosh joked. “Good idea.” His A-wing streaked off towards the large, boxy ship. “I was kidding!” Greigh made a sound that resembled an auditory shrug. “We need to know. Besides, we don’t want it getting away.” Before Greigh could reach the freighter, the last B-wing met a fiery death. Shortly after that, the last five defending ships re-grouped, maintaining the best possible speed towards the Rodian as he chased the freighter. “I’m reading a power surge, Lead. I think he’s hypering out.” “Try to track his course, Two.” “Already on it.” A few seconds later, the large ship was gone. “It’s no good, I don’t detect anything other than empty space on his estimated trajectory. He’s probably planning on coming out of hyperspace and resetting coordinates.” “Damn. Well, that’s it then. Let’s head home.” The words were no sooner out of Vlad’s mouth when the simulation shut down. Brosh slumped in his cockpit. That battle had drained him completely. Hands that were stiff from being wrapped around flight controls barely had the dexterity to unbuckle his helmet. With arms that felt more like lead than muscle, he heaved the thing off his head. “Okay boys and girls, meet your recently deceased friends in the briefing room.” Fang didn’t know how he was going to get the ambition to walk the thirty meters. Even though his throat was completely dry, he remembered his ration bar and started gnawing on it as he hobbled out of the simulator room. The rest of his squadmates looked almost as exhausted as he felt. As the six survivors shuffled through the door, their teammates who had “died” were waiting for them with a standing ovation. The applause was almost as appreciated as the basic snacks and refreshments waiting for them on the tables in the briefing room. Brosh, Greigh, and Vlad sat down next to Kri’ifi and chugged whatever liquid was in front of them, going through almost an entire pitcher of water in two minutes. They were surprised to see, and smell, how much they sweat. Kri’ifi’s fine Bothan fur was matted with snags and was still a little damp. He smelled absolutely horrible. Shyndrah, the young Twi’lek woman’s flight suit was drenched in sweat, but she seemed to be fresher than anybody else, as if she were used to intense workouts. “All right then, who thought that mission was a complete success?” Colonel Albanas asked them. Nobody raised their hands. The colonel gave an approving nod. “What’s your assessment of how you did?” His gaze was focused on Vlad. “I’d say we did okay. We had too many casualties, though.” “I’ll agree whole heartedly with that. However, your primary goal of keeping the station in one piece was achieved. You all get gold stars for that. Not every squadron can manage to do as well as you did, under the circumstances. Actually, were I to grade the entire defense as a whole, I’d give you a solid 92%.” Nobody was overly thrilled with the grade, but nobody was horrified, either. “Why didn’t the station use its turbolasers on its own initiative?” Vlad asked, agitated. “We could have probably saved a life that way. Surely even scientists know when to shoot at something that’s trying to destroy them.” “That’s true. However, that exact issue came up once when I flew a mission that was very similar to yours. I don’t know why they didn’t take that initiative, but we were a lot quicker to point that out. So now we put that in this scenario so it will be foremost on your mind to communicate with the station and work out some basic tactics.” A couple of the cadets shook their head in frustration. The lesson wasn’t lost on them, that was for sure. “What about Tchurgl’s explosion?” Brosh asked. The Quarren’s face-tentacles writhed, as if she wanted to ask that very question. “Aaaah that was one completely preventable casualty. Did you run a diagnostic after your blaster was hit, Cadet?” “Er….no sir. But the blaster was gone, I looked at it myself. It can’t have overloaded.” “That’s true because it wasn’t the blaster that did you in.” Brosh remembered the lone missile streaking out after the B-wing just as Tchurgl’s A-wing detonated. “It was the second missile, wasn’t it sir?” “Precisely. When Tchurgl took the hit, a chunk of debris lodged into the firing aperture. The missile launched, hit the debris, then exploded.” He gave the Quarren a serious look. “If you had run even the quickest diagnostic, the computer would have told you not to fire that missile.” The look on her face made it clear that another lesson was well drilled into her mind. “I have to tell you that I think you did very well. Over fifty percent of the classes who take this scenario fail it completely. Either the station is destroyed or everybody gets shot down.” He held up his fingers and started ticking off the things he thought they did right. “One, your communication, excluding with the station, was good. You watched out for each other as best you could. Two, your teamwork was excellent. When someone lost a wingman they immediately went to help out another pair. Three, your initial tactics were decent. You destroyed the most dangerous ships first, with the exception of the Y-wings who broke formation. Four, the station was hardly damaged.” He dropped his hand. “Some casualties are to be expected. Not even Rogue Squadron could do a one-sided battle like that and not take losses. The only things against you, really, were the lack of communication with the station, the fact that the freighter got away, and one bonehead preventable casualty.” The colonel looked pointedly at Tchurgl. “Keep working on your piloting skills. I see room for improvement in all of you. I require improvement from all of you. Now, go get some breakfast, or shall I say lunch? You deserve it. You can have the rest of today off. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Dismissed.” “I’m so hungry I could kill and eat a bantha with my bare fangs,” Kri’ifi announced as they left the briefing room. “I’ll help you eat it, but only if you bathe first.” Brosh checked his chrono, seeing that it was indeed well into the afternoon. The Bothan made an obvious show of sniffing Brosh. “You don’t smell like a flower either. You smell more like the fertilizer.” They shared tired laughter. “Then we’re all in agreement. Shower, then a big meal.” “Then bed,” Tchurgl sighed, her face tendrils waving with anticipation. “I don’t think I can sleep yet,” Vlad said. “You’re a pilot, baldy. You gotta learn to sleep whenever you can.” The Rodian somehow seemed to less fatigued than average. “I wouldn’t put it past them to pull us in for another ‘emergency’ in the next hour.” Everybody else in the group groaned at that. Fortunately, Greigh’s concerns were unfounded. That day, anyway.... -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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Thumper09 Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 6/27 8:47pm Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	I bet it was totally frustrating for the other pilots to keep getting vaped in the sims. I'm glad the top pilots could put aside their competitiveness and help their squadmates improve. Everyone wins! Well-done action sequence again. Good idea on Vlad's part to try to stay under the Y-wings to avoid the turrets, too. Brosh is showing a lot of initiative and ability to think on his feet, which I'm sure will come in very handy for him during dogfights. And hey, the Greens did pretty well against odds like that. Hands that were stiff from being wrapped around flight controls barely had the dexterity to unbuckle his helmet. I really like the details like this that you include. They do a great job of enhancing the realism. Tough break for Tchurgl on the detonated missile. At least it was a lesson learned in the sim and not real life. Great job! -Thumper -----signature----- "Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method." -Karen Eiffel The Way--Imperial pilot OCs, OT: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28104637 OC X-wing fics: http://www.coronasquadron.com/corona.html
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DarthXan318 Registered: Sep '02	Date Posted: 6/28 4:59am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Still reading, just haven't been able to think of something intelligent to say... Nice (well, you know what I mean) scramble drill. I bet they're not going to forget those lessons anytime soon - half casualties is considered "good", and all that... -----signature----- It's "godmoding," not "godmodding." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Godmoding
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/29 10:41am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	thumper09 posted: bet it was totally frustrating for the other pilots to keep getting vaped in the sims. I'm glad the top pilots could put aside their competitiveness and help their squadmates improve. Everyone wins! Well-done action sequence again. Good idea on Vlad's part to try to stay under the Y-wings to avoid the turrets, too. Brosh is showing a lot of initiative and ability to think on his feet, which I'm sure will come in very handy for him during dogfights. And hey, the Greens did pretty well against odds like that. Hands that were stiff from being wrapped around flight controls barely had the dexterity to unbuckle his helmet. I really like the details like this that you include. They do a great job of enhancing the realism. Tough break for Tchurgl on the detonated missile. At least it was a lesson learned in the sim and not real life. Great job! -Thumper I can relate totally to stiff hands, between flight sims and SWG's final tier of pilot missions. I'm just glad helmets aren't manditory in computer sims yet, or I'd have difficulties too. There are always lots of mistakes done by rookies, that's why sims are so blasted important! Thank you very much for your kind words and input! Really appreciate it. darthxan318 posted: Still reading, just haven't been able to think of something intelligent to say... Nice (well, you know what I mean) scramble drill. I bet they're not going to forget those lessons anytime soon - half casualties is considered "good", and all that... Yes I do know what you mean. I appreciate you taking the time to comment! You don't have to say anything intelligent, I rarely do. I'm satisfied if my readers just give me a or some other emote to let me know they were here and enjoyed the story. Brosh's story will move forward on Monday, due to a Holiday on Tuesday. My wife never leaves me much time to post when she has days off. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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Darth McClain Registered: Feb '00	Date Posted: 6/29 11:58am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	Nice couple of updates, Peri! I liked the sim stuff! Looking forward to more! -----signature----- Once a Talon, always a Talon Talon Intelligence Squadron: Book 2! http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28489742 Tales from the Intelligence Gala! (TIS spin-off!) http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28600431
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Stroja Registered: May '08	Date Posted: 6/29 8:20pm Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24
	I almost missed this update. Looks at date in the title Not my fault! The sim fight was very good, and it seems like the pilots are learning to work as a unit really well. -----signature----- Causality - A Far-future saga: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28556597 Will engage in repartee for gourmet food.
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Jedi_Perigrine Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 6/30 7:56am Subject: RE: The Academy: A Pilot fic. OCs, Wedge (post NJO) Updated 6/24 - Date Edited: 6/30 8:01am (1 edits total) Edited By: Jedi_Perigrine
	Darth McClain posted: Nice couple of updates, Peri! I liked the sim stuff! Looking forward to more! Thank you! More excitement approacheth! stroja posted: I almost missed this update. Looks at date in the title Not my fault! The sim fight was very good, and it seems like the pilots are learning to work as a unit really well. Oopsie! I noticed I forget to update the date on my other story only half the time too. I'll see if I can't plug my brain in a bit more often. In any case, thanks for tracking me down and reading! If you'd like a PM when I update, let me know. Actually, I meant to do this before, but I'll make a current PM list in my first post. If anybody's getting a PM and doesn't want one anymore, just let me know! Meanwhile, on with the show! _______________________ Over the next week, the squadron was inundated with scramble alerts. After the third straight day of four separate emergency alerts, they all began carrying ration bars and water globules with them wherever they went. Greigh bought several cases of each and started making a few credits profit per unit, selling to those who hadn’t wised up yet. If they were lucky, the colonel gave them twenty minutes in the cockpit with nothing to do but wait. During those times, most of them snatched a nap. Brosh thought the hard part was going to be drifting off to sleep, but after being in a state of total exhaustion for so long, it was the waking up part that was proving difficult. But as the waves of enemies raced to meet them, that was all the stimulation Brosh needed to be completely alert again. It was just after a particularly easy sim that Brosh had time to wonder when they were going to fly real ships. His frustration didn’t hold his attention long, though. He knew how Colonel Albanas worked. Fang figured he had about ten minutes to grab some food before he was pulled away for another scramble; Greigh and Vlad shared the same thought. The three of them raced to the cafeteria and loaded their plates beyond capacity with whatever “nutritious gruel” was handy. Twenty minutes later the three males were completely stuffed and utterly puzzled. “Where’s Albanas?” Vlad asked after a particularly satisfying belch. “Don’t know,” Brosh replied. “Maybe he’s feeling sorry for us.” Greigh hmphed. “More likely he’s tired of babysitting us. I know-“ The Rodian was cut off by the beep of their comm. “All right boys and girls, new orders for you. Pack your belongings and meet me at my office in an hour. You’re headed to a training ground for some actual flight time. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Move it!” Vlad belched again. Greigh burped vociferously as well. The two sentients looked expectantly at Brosh, who could only shake his head, unable to produce his own belch. Silently he noted that the New Republic was putting overgrown children into the cockpits of one of the most dangerous fighters designed thus far. Brosh hoped that they didn’t live to regret it. ________________________ Brosh was the third of his squadron to arrive at the meeting place, joined quickly by Shydrah, the Twi’lek female who was a couple years older than he. Her skin was a light green that balanced very well with her bright yellow eyes. Unlike most Twi’lek girls he knew, she was quite petite in stature, about as tall as Brosh, and not rail-thin. Brosh had heard a few of his class mock her because of her strapping wide hips and more muscular than bosomy upper body. He didn’t understand their disapproval. She looked pretty good to him. “Am I late?” Shydrah asked, lugging a huge repulsor-lift equipped trunk floating behind her. “No. You’ve got ten minutes to spare.” Brosh eyed the huge crate she was using for a suitcase. “See something you like?” she purred, squaring her shoulders and moving her long lekku out of the way of her bosom. He stammered mindlessly for a moment, trying to get his brain back under control. “I was admiring your chest.“ “Oh?” Shydrah said, her voice rising with interest. “Should I repeat the question then?” Ack! That’s not what I meant! “Er…no. I meant I was just checking out your trunk. It’s pretty big.” “Ahhh,” she replied, yellow eyes twinkling mischievously. “That’s where I keep the bodies of all my spurned lovers.” “Then it’s true!” Greigh interrupted. “I hear you’ve been involved with some Hutts. How many Hutt corpses can you fit in that thing?” It was Shydrah’s turn to sputter momentarily. Outrage and amusement warred behind her eyes until she finally decided on one. “Kath hounds like you are the reason there won’t be any Rodians in my trunk.” “Good!” As Shyndrah huffed off, she thopped Greigh in the back of his head with one of her long lekku. “Slimy worm-heads,” the Rodian grumbled. “Watch out for her, Brosh. I hear she’s taken a special interest in you.” “Really,” Brosh answered thoughtfully. Over the last months, he had been too busy to care about members of the feminine gender. Her sudden attention intrigued him. Belatedly, Brosh realized that Greigh had driven her off. He tried to keep the disgruntled look off his face. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if that box really did have a Hutt or two in it. No, if you want to go about mating properly you need to find yourself a nice Rodian girl. They’re submissive enough, once you prove your dominance over her…” Brosh stopped listening after Greigh launched into an altogether too detailed description of how he was going to find and subdue himself a mate. Fang tuned into the monologue at uncomfortable times, leaving little to the imagination, as well as being particularly sadistic. “Here’s Vlad!” he cheered, thankful for any chance to escape from the Rodian’s particularly disgusting daydream. He raced off to join the bald human. Brosh was so happy to be away from the perverted Greigh that he didn’t see Kri’ifi until he was almost standing on him. Vlad didn’t misread Brosh’s facial expression. “Are the Hutt dancers here, or is Greigh daydreaming out loud again?” Brosh couldn’t help but shudder. “How did you know?” Vlad laughed loudly. “I’m sure I wore the same expression on my face, the first time he went into details around me.” “You did the right thing by fleeing. We listened to him the first few times, so he thinks we agree with his methods. He won’t believe us that we don’t want to hear it any more,” Kri’ifi said. The three of them rejoined the now thankfully silent Rodian in waiting outside the colonel’s door. They didn’t have to wait long. “Well thanks for stopping by, General. I’m sure the kids will be honored to know you were thinking about them.” As the door hissed open, Wedge Antilles preceded the colonel out of the office. All the cadets immediately snapped to attention. Shyndrah’s trunk landed with a floor-crunching crash. “Relax, cadets,” Wedge told them authoritatively. After all the years spent leading the Rogues in their unusual exploits, he seemed to enjoy wielding a bit of his officer power. “I just stopped by to wish you all well. Your unit is one of the best in the academy right now, and that’s saying something. A few of you,” he continued, glancing briefly at Brosh and his friends. “Are abnormally gifted pilots. Keep practicing, keep working as a team and you’ll get there. And to those of you who think my compliments are an indicator of your superiority over your fellows’, you’re dead wrong.” His eyes darkened seriously. “If any of you seem to be getting too big for your britches, I’ll vape you myself. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes sir!” everybody said at once, saluting smartly. “Good. Have fun out there.” Twelve pairs of eyes watched Antilles leave, each silently and in their own way worshipping the ground Wedge walked upon until he was out of sight. “How come nobody looks at me like that?” Colonel Albanas demanded, mouth turned down in a disgruntled frown. There was a twinkle in his eye hinting at amusement underneath his stern expression. “You should blow up a Death Star, sir. That would be a good start.” All the amusement left the colonel’s expression as he wheeled around to stare at Greigh. “I can’t do that now because Wedge already killed them all. One more smart mouth expression out of you and I’ll see that you’re stuffed into Shyndrah’s trunk.” Albanas’ surprisingly strong pair of hands grabbed Greigh by the front of his flight suit, lifting him completely off the ground. The Rodian didn’t trust his mouth to answer. The fact that his normally wide eyes were almost popping out of their sockets was enough of an answer for him. The colonel shoved him aside. The rest of the gathered pilots managed to hide their amusement. “Now follow me. We’re taking a transport to a classified training facility. You lucky cadets are in for a real treat, if you can hold onto your tongues long enough.” “I can’t believe you said that!” Vlad whispered. “I can’t either.” The stunned look on his face was very secure in the knowledge that he would never do that again. -----signature----- TIS Rules. Check out: Soon to be continued: Choices-- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28767048/p1 A Jedi must make a difficult choice when he runs into an old crush Odd Happenings: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29123443&
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