A Pilot Story (OT - The Adventures of Wedge Antilles)

I'll just give this a push up.

 

And so will I.

 

In a poor singing voice: "Weelllll we're movin on up...movin on up...to the first page...movin on up..."

 

Upupupup!

 

up again

 

//peer pressure

 

School?! No excuse. Brilliant story if I do say so myself.

 

<Name?>

[WesJanson]

<Passcode?>

My fingers rested lightly on the computer keyboard. After a moment's thought, I typed: [Piggy]

<Incorrect Passcode>

[Dave]

<Incorrect Passcode>

[TierfonAces]

<Incorrect Passcode>

I growled, gave the thin monitor a frustrated shake. I knew perfectly well that I was not the greatest computer expert. My skills fell far short of hacker-quality, but I hadn't thought accessing the Dantooine base's *public* online database was going to be so difficult.

My conversation with Maire in the medical center had been cut short when the base doctor (an actual sentient being, not a droid) had wandered into the room at the worst possible time. I?d been unceremoniously hustled out and Maire had been sent back to bed. Miss Saylar would be released in another few hours, the doctor had said while she pushed me out the door. We could visit then.

Miss Saylar. Miss Tomak. None of them knew.

I?d roved the corridors of the base aimlessly, not sure of where to go. That Maire had entrusted me with her secret was both flattering and troubling. No one had ever let me into their confidence before. After a while, my wanderings had eventually taken me into another cavern - a briefing room of sorts. There was a platform and podium at the front of the room. Crates had been set up in front for seats. I?d found a small lap-computer on one. It had seemed like a good distraction at the time.

Except I wasn?t going anywhere fast.

I tried numbers: [69031544]

<Incorrect Passcode>

[52565566]

<Incorr->

?Arrgh!? The cursor waited on the screen, mocking my pathetic efforts. I glared at it, racking my brain. Baby wouldn't have a numeral passcode. He was too goofy for something so orthodox. No, his code was a word, a familiar phrase. Something short that he wouldn't forget...

I typed: [Pink]

The cursor disappeared. <Passcode Correct. Access Granted.>

"All right!" I studied my options. The menu didn't have a lot; there weren't too many events for computers to keep track of in the caves. However, there was one option that caught my eye.

[#3. Flight Simulations]

I punched in my selection and yet another screen popped up, different from the previous two. I leaned forward intently as the computer beeped and printed: <Simulators currently in use. Users Cap.Dreis_RedSquadron, terminals 1-9. Standard dogfight.>

That was right: Piggy, Baby, and the others had departed from the Mess Hall for some flight exercises. I'd assumed that had meant atmospheric maneuvers - I hadn't anticipated the existence of simulators. I supposed the rebels couldn't risk too much outside activity if they wanted to keep passing travelers ignorant of their presence on Dantooine. It made sense, although they'd probably had to lug several power generators into the caverns to support all those sim pods.

Hesitantly, I tapped in: [Open terminals?]

There was a short pause. I held my breath. Then: <Terminal 10 open.>

I remembered belatedly my conversation with Emalia. She'd said the Squad still had an opening. It was already short enough, I mused, if they only used ten pilots instead of the conventional twelve. I let my eyes focus on the number "10" as it blinked lazily on the screen.

"I can't believe this!" I spun my chair away, stood. I was actually thinking - no, not just thinking, I was seriously considering - of accessing that open terminal and joining the Red Squad simulation! Closing my eyes, I put my fingers to my temples, shook my head slowly back and forth. "Antilles," I said aloud, "if you really miss flying that much, work on getting your ship fixed, not daydreaming."

Feeling some pretense of control return, I turned back to the keyboard. I decisively closed the simulator window and instead accessed something else: the Galactic NewsNets.

Although the Holonet had considerably deteriorated in the years after Palpatine had declared himself Emperor, a number of networks were still in use. Everyone from law-abiding citizens to smugglers to rebels could read the public Nets in anonymit

 

Yes! A post!

LoL: "<Incorr-> Arrgh!"

 

UP!

 

Ever upward!

 

Move it up, baby!

 

JarJar: Like your sig, LoL.

 

Thanks, I appreciate it.

 

Post coming tonight! (hopefully)

 

Seven minutes.

I finished setting the simulator?s timer and stood back, blowing out a long breath. Seven minutes. I had seven minutes to fly to my heart?s content before the timer would cut in and automatically dump me back out of the simulation. As soon as Terminal 10 went offline, the simulator?s regular artificial intelligence would reclaim control my ship, making it seem as if nothing had happened. Hopefully, the switch from sentient to mechanical pilot wouldn?t be too noticeable.

There was no turning back now. I was committed.

As it was not used very often, Terminal 10 had been moved from the main practice room. Although it still remained networked to the remaining nine, the single pod was in a separate cavern all together, which only made my coming and going easier. I didn?t have to worry about the other pilots standing around when I came out of the sim. With any luck, no one would even know I?d been there.

I slid into the pilot?s couch and eased down the hatch before I could have second thoughts. There was a flight helmet hanging from hook on the wall. I jammed it over my head, tightened the chinstrap as much as possible; it was slightly too big. As the canopy clicked into place, the dark interior of the pod lit up and the mini-computer on the board came online.

It prompted: <Request?>

?Red Squadron dogfight,? I said into my helmet?s pickup, giving the controls a quick once-over.

<Name? Authorization Code?>

?Wes Janson. Pink.?

<Please wait?>

Everything around me went black for a moment. The pod?s systems murmured and I did my best to relax. I rolled my head around, drew in a deep breath and let it out again. I pushed experimentally on both the right and left rudder pedals, moved the stick both directions. ?Well,? I said to myself, settling back in the seat. ?Here goes nothing.?

Then the cockpit flared to life around me, and I was in.

The elongated lines of lightspeed shrank back to pinpoints of light as my ship came out of ?hyperspace? into the heart of the simulation. I caught a glimpse of red laser fire and the glistening shapes of X-wings in the distance as they pursued their prey across the stars. I cut my speed to practically nothing and let my own ship just glide along for a few seconds, taking in everything from a relatively safe distance. I also took the time to switch on the com system, keying for a general frequency. Instantly my cockpit was flooded with voices.

?Eight could use some help here-?

"-do this with my eyes closed."

"Two coming at you!"

"Heads up - there's a new wave coming!"

"-more interesting than just shooting down pirates."

I shut it off again. From what I'd managed to glean from the garbled conversation, the dogfight wasn't between members of Red Squadron itself, but rather an outside force: pirate ships, controlled by the artificial intelligence engine of the simulator. Apparently, the pirate ships were also fairly easy targets.

A glance at my sensors revealed the "new wave" that one of the Reds had indicated; a group of fighters plunging into the melee on the right flank. The pirates were a motley gang of several different ships - Z-95 headhunters, Y-Wings, and X-wings - all stuck together in one disorganized swarm that attempted to overwhelm Red Squadron by sheer weight of numbers. It was a strategy that Imperials often used. Some skilled pilots could rack up a squadron's worth of kills in such simulations.

At least the pirates would provide a decent cover for me... I put my X-wing (for I was in an X-wing - that was probably the last thing I realized of the whole situation) into full gear and locked the S-foils. So far, my identification signature slated me as a neutral, which meant neither side would have any reason to target me.

Of course, that would change as soon as I fired on someone.

Well, it wasn't going to be the pirates. They were getting slaughtered as it was. Calling up my targeting display, I sought out one of the rebel X-wings, a close one.

[Red Seven. Shields 100% - Hull 100%]

Red Seven was engaged w

 

That was GREAT, Rogueleader! Very good post. Keep up the good work.

 

LoL! They thought he was the computer! This is coming along very nicely RL11.

 

Now if I can just see what happens when Rogue 9 realizes that he was shot by wedge and not a computer.

 

This is a great story, Amy. I finally got around to reading it from beginning to end, and it is simply awesome. You should be proud of this work, and the fact that you have so many dedicated fans on this site that have stuck with you through the last two months of your wonderful story.

And remember, Amy, you are always welcome as a guest at my mansion.

 

Going up! Again!

 

uppers
(Please post soon. I can't hold this thread up forever...growing...weak.....)

 

Okay then, let me help DR.

 

I'll help as well.

 

Up!