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Author	Topic: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
double_blade Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 10/31/05 2:44am Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
	wow just finished reading...great story...janson is always great i guess im one of the lucky ones...i just read the entire fic in the past couple of days...instead of waiting over the years to finish it...lol my only problem was with some minor continuity problems...and i thought when biggs came into the story hobbie was definitely gonna come in...cuz the both defected from the rand at the same time and joined red squad at the same time on yavin...oh well it was still great
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Idiots Array Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 12/10/05 12:16am Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
	blink blink rubs eyes Wow, this is a blast from the past. I log in after several months and half of Talon Squad comes crawling out of the woodwork. At any rate, great work. I'm glad to see this continue. It certainly deserves all the praise it's received. Roguelead11, if you get a free moment drop me a line. I'd like to hear how things are going. IA -----signature----- "I will meet you on the other side of the clouds, with a breath of hope and a shimmer of light upon my wings." -- Talon Squad Leader http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28126755/
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benknobi1 Registered: Jun '02	Date Posted: 12/19/05 4:24pm Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
	Antilles2001 posted: Well. It's good to have you back. Even though I'm no longer a Wedge-head (Clones all the way! ), I remember how much I liked to read this fic. Very nice description of the gang relaxing whilst repressing their laughter. Wonderful work, as always, RogueLead. A tad late, but all is forgiven, ma'am. Yes, -----signature----- -chickie ...
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RogueLead11 Registered: Aug '99	Date Posted: 2/2/06 12:40am Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
	The next few days went by quickly, but almost happily so. During those nights, as I lay in Red Squadron’s humid barracks and listened to the raucous chorus of snoring from Biggs and Baby, I realized this was the first time in years that I was sleeping on firm ground. It felt nice, knowing that I didn’t have to drift through the black anymore, alone in the coldness of space. Even though our quarters in the Temple didn’t have a single window, Garven Dreis seemed to instinctively know when it was morning because he roused the squadron at the light of dawn. He stood by as we stumbled blearily into the washrooms, berating us while we stood at the faucets and splashed water onto tired faces. “It seems you’ve forgotten that this is the military!” he shouted. “I was flying in the Republic Air Cavalry when you all were still in diapers. Force knows we would have lost the Battle of Virujansi with you lazy slobs in the ranks.” “The Battle of Virujansi?” Biggs Darklighter called out from a shower stall. “Wow, Captain, so you fought in the Clone Wars? I didn’t know they’d even invented snubfighters back then!” Everyone laughed until Captain Dreis, his expression serene, proceeded to flush every refresher in the room. After breakfast, Dreis frequently led us in jogs through the jungle surrounding the base. He ran at the head of the straggling column of pilots, impervious to the insects, spiky tree roots, and oozing bogs that quickly felled the less cautious. The sheer peril of these exercises led the rest of the squadron to rename them “death marches.” “I really think he’s trying to kill us,” Baby whispered to me during one such outing. “You know, to thin out the population so they won’t have to feed us as much.” I kept my eyes on the ground, feeling my boots sink into the ground as I jumped over a sizeable depression in the moist earth. “Interesting theory. But wouldn’t that be counter-productive when we don’t have enough pilots to fill out the X-wings?” “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, considering the number of Red Squadron replacements Dreis has drummed up.” Baby waved his hands around his head to shoo away a particularly large flying insect. “Honestly, I think Lead’s given up on us. He’s going to wipe the slate clean, cut his losses, and start with a brand new batch of pilots.” He paused. “I guess I don’t blame him for giving up, really. I’m a pretty formidable opponent, especially in the long run. Dave put up a good fight, but determination alone can’t beat sheer pig-headedness…” Baby’s speech would have continued if, at that moment, he hadn’t found himself up to his knees in a puddle of sinking sand. Piggy came up behind us, shaking his head. “Is he claiming Lead is trying to murder the squadron again?” he asked as we tugged Baby free. I nodded. “Should we be concerned?” “Nah. Anyway, we wouldn’t be in the Rebellion if we didn’t have a death wish.” In some ways, however, what Baby said was true. We’d started flying simulator exercises against potential candidates for Red Squadron the previous day, and the number of replacement pilots far outstripped the number of available X-wings. Because each of the simulator rooms could only house four to six simulator pods, we took turns competing against the new arrivals. Some of the pilots were fellow survivors from Dantooine, their eyes haunted whenever they spoke about their lost squadron mates. Some had defected from the Imperial forces or Academy and had joined the Rebellion only recently. I felt a little closer to these individuals. I imagined that they felt the newness of being with the Reds, just like me, and I enjoyed flying against them, seeing how their formal training compared with my practical experience. One afternoon, as Baby and I climbed out of our simulator cockpits, Biggs was standing off to the side, conversing excitedly with another young pilot. The latter cradled a flight helmet in the crook of his arm, his short blond hair mussed, having recently emerged from the sim himself. “I’d like to introduce you to an old pal of mine, Derek Klivian,” Biggs called as we approached. “He made planet-fall just last night and is hoping to join the squadron.” He gestured toward us. “Derek, this is my friend Wedge. Oh, and that’s the squadron delinquent, Wes Janson.” “Hello,” Klivian said. “Nice to meet you, but don’t feel like you have to remember my name. Most people can’t anyway.” We shook hands firmly. Like the rest of us, Derek Klivian was slightly less than average height with a lean build, but his face constantly bore a world-weary look, as if he spent a lot of time grimacing. Baby scrutinized him. “Derek,” he said finally. “That’s a strange name.” “What kind of name is Wes?” The newcomer shrugged, unperturbed. “Some people call me Hobbie. Don’t know where they get that from, though.” Baby’s face was still wary. “So you and Greenhorn here have known each other for a long time, huh? Funny. I figured he didn’t have any friends.” Biggs scowled at him. Klivian’s smile was a thin and dour one that pulled at the edges of his narrow face. “Biggs and I served on the Rand Ecliptic together,” he explained. “He convinced me that wide-scale mutiny was a good idea.” “It was a good idea!” Biggs protested. “We got here, didn’t we?” His friend winced. “You didn’t lose part of your arm in the cross-fire.” “Oh, stop trying to play for sympathy. Besides, they sewed it back on.” Klivian turned to me with unexpected interest. “You were Red Two in the sim, right?” he said. “That was some tricky flying. I thought I had you at one point, but then I looked away for one second and you were gone!” “It was a good thing you gave me that second,” I told him, grinning. “Not for me,” he said, his melancholy face returning. “Since you vaped me ten seconds later.” “I wouldn’t take it too hard,” Biggs soothed. “Vaping tends to go on in these exercises. And you did take down Janson, so that’s points in your favor. Not a lot of points, but certainly more than zero.” This time it was Baby’s turn to scowl. Biggs was scheduled to participate in the next trial exercise, and as he hopped into the sim pod, Hobbie Klivian bid us goodbye and left the room. Baby, however, didn’t seem pleased. “What kind of name is Wes?” he parroted, glowering at the departing pilot’s back. “Cheeky little rookie. What makes him think he can talk to me like that?” “You weren’t exactly chummy yourself,” I reminded him. “What’s the matter with you? I thought you and Biggs made your peace since that grease bucket incident.” “I don’t know, he just rubs me the wrong way. I don’t like the idea of him and Greenhorn being in cahoots.” Baby folded his arms stubbornly. “I’ll tell you one thing, Ace, I wouldn’t want him watching my back. You just can’t trust guys with weird nicknames like that.” As it turned out, Biggs’ friend didn’t become a Red pilot, although not due to lack of ability. Biggs’ face wore an uncharacteristically gloomy expression as we watched Hobbie Klivian’s small freighter soaring into the evening sky of Yavin IV a few days later, but when I asked him why his former crewmate hadn’t stayed, he merely said, “Hobbie wants to help the Rebellion as much as I do. We just have different priorities.” “We could have used him,” I mused. Biggs smiled slightly. “He told me that he’s off to get us more equipment, so we don’t have to squabble over what we’ve got. It’s too bad. Hobbie’s one of the best pilots I’ve ever seen. And believe me, we had some tough instructors at the Academy.” I watched Klivian’s freighter disappear behind the mountains, along with the sun. “Got any other friends we could recruit in the mean-time?” Darklighter’s eyes searched the horizon as darkness slowly settled over the jungle. Far above us, the stars began to glow with their first, faint light. “Oh, I’ve got a ringer,” Biggs said after a moment. “Force knows if he’ll ever make it, though.” In a matter of days, Red Squadron filled out and the new faces appeared in the barracks and in the Mess Hall. People kept introducing themselves to me in the hallway, but I had a difficult time remembering their names. They were mostly humans, and mostly men. Some had nicknames, like Gil “Drifter” Viray, or short ones, like John “D.” They were all perfectly friendly. One pilot in particular, a boy from Raithal named Bren Quersey, asked for my advice about defensive maneuvering. Still, whether I was flying, eating, or joking with the new pilots, I couldn’t help thinking about the people they were replacing. Was this what it was like, fighting as the underdogs in a vicious war? In the end, it all boiled down to callsigns and positions. We were all soldiers in a twelve-man unit, and when our spot was empty, it had to be filled. Would we just be forgotten, then, like so many others? Biggs went to bed early the night of Derek Klivian’s departure, without speaking to anyone. Lien dismissed his behavior with a wave of her slender hand as we stood outside the barracks door. “He’s probably just homesick,” she said. “You can’t remember what your life was like before you came here. It just reminds you of what you’ve given up.” Baby was even less sympathetic. “He’ll get over it,” he said. “Besides, the best way to cheer yourself up is with a pretty girl and a big mug of lum. Lien, take a hit for squadron morality and give Greenhorn a smooch. Or better yet, just give one to me.” The Twi’lek’s lips twitched in amusement. “Drop dead, Wes.” “Well, can’t hurt to try.” Baby glanced at me. “Hey Ace, interested in a game of Sabbac in the Mess? I hear those new guys Quersey and Nett can’t play to save their lives.” I managed a weak smile. “I’ll pass, thanks. I’m a little tired myself. You guys have a good time.” “Don’t worry about that!” Baby practically dragged Lien down the corridor. I keyed the door’s opening mechanism and stepped wearily into Red Squadron’s quarters, dragging off my boots and throwing them under my bed. As I plopped down onto the hard mattress, I became aware of a small glow in one corner of the room. I squinted, not understanding what I saw: Biggs Darklighter crouching near the wall, a glow-rod held aloft in one hand, a small vibro-blade clutched in the other. As we stared at each other in the dimness, the door slid momentarily open. A long shadow cast itself over the floor stones before the light from the hallway was again obscured, and I glanced over my shoulder at the looming figure of Piggy, who stood motionless just inside the entryway. “What are you doing?” Piggy said. He whispered the words, but they seemed to echo all around us, as if he’d shouted them into the upper reaches of the Temple. Biggs didn’t reply immediately. When he did at last, his voice was calm, almost dull. “There has to be something,” he said. “There has to be something more.” Although I couldn’t make out his features very well, I knew that there was a desperation in his face that mirrored mine, a sadness that could never be completely forgotten. And I understood why that was. Saying goodbye to a friend could be too much. It was still a loss, and there had already been too much loss, more than anyone could bear. You didn’t have to be in space to be surrounded by blackness. Biggs turned back to his work. He pushed the tip of the vibro-knife into the rock, moving it slowly down, sideways, down again. His arm trembled – the blade had to be incredibly dull. But he didn’t stop, not even when first Piggy, then I joined him at the wall. Silently, we knelt down and chiseled our names under Biggs’ message. It took a long time to carve the letters into the ancient stone, but somehow it was comforting to know that they would stay there, years and years after we ourselves had gone. For several minutes, Biggs, Piggy, and I stared at the sandstone block, now bearing our inscription. “The Empire Or Us. There Is No Compromise. Biggs Darklighter. Wedge Antilles. Jek Porkins.” We looked at each other in silence. There was nothing else to say. Biggs extinguished the glow-rod and climbed back into bed. The darkness fell around us once again, but somehow it didn’t feel so heavy. Piggy and I agreed that maybe we would take a shot at the Sabbac tournament. After all, we couldn’t let Lien and Baby take all the rookies’ money. * * * Sorry again for the long absence. My computer had an unfortunate incident involving a nasty virus, and I was afraid I’d lost everything. I’m fortunate to know some very computer-literate people! Thanks all for sticking around. IA, I'm sorry for not seeing your post! I will shoot you a PM, I hope you've been doing well! To give credit where it is due, the quote at the end is from “I, Jedi” by Michael Stackpole, a source of much inspiration for me! With regard to Hobbie’s absence during Biggs’ introduction, there are conflicting sources as to what the former was doing during the Battle of Yavin, since he was not yet a part of Red Squadron, only appearing as Rogue Four in the Battle of Hoth. According to a comic, he and Biggs joined the Rebellion together after their defection from the Rand Ecliptic, but some say that Hobbie worked as a gunrunner for the Rebellion in the Sullust system until after Yavin. I’ve tried to make this story as close to the real timeline as I could with my limited knowledge of the Expanded Universe, but I’m going with the latter explanation just to simplify things. I apologize for any other lapses in continuity. -----signature----- The lazy author that never finishes anyth
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Idiots Array Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 2/6/06 10:59am Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)
	-----signature----- "I will meet you on the other side of the clouds, with a breath of hope and a shimmer of light upon my wings." -- Talon Squad Leader http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28126755/
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Spencer_P Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 2/11/06 4:40pm Subject: RE: A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles) - Date Edited: 2/11/06 4:44pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Spencer_P
	Ahhh... new post! Thank you RogueLead11! Out of all the fanfics I've read, I think this one is my favorite. -----signature----- -- --
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