Chapter 2 Submission

SUBMITTED BY: CPT Longstreet / Demon CO / 1st Brigade / Imperial Army
HOLONET REGISTRATION: <FriederLeimenstoll@gmx.de
SUBMITTED ON: 2008.05.16

Girder … girder … girder … and another girder … and another girder … and now one with a slight different design. Ensign James Longstreet wandered through the corridors of the Imperial Academy. Smoking a cig he angrily thought who was the idiot who ordered that smoking in the dining rooms was forbidden - most likely one of those governors with a Gold Seal on his breast who couldn´t differentiate between a TIE and an ISD.

 

Suddenly, I heard the plaintive cry of a young Mexican girl - no, wrong song, again. Suddenly, a friendly “Ensign Longstreet” was heard. The Ensign turned and saw a young Sub-Lieutenant coming near. EN Longstreet saluted and smiled, as the SL who called his name has been a fellow cadet during the years on the Academy.

 

“Brian”, Longstreet said, “How are you doing? Still instructor for the juniors?”

“I am” the SL answered “And I also see that you are still Ensign despite having passed all exams?” “Well, now my CO is on sickbed and my flight leader doing most of his work official promotion may take some time - and double of that if we can assume, and we can, that updates on junior officer profiles will be made last after that database attack some days ago.”

 

“So true James, but it will come!” answered politely the SL; who knew that problems from his cadets. “Brian, you maybe remember that EN Arkada was assigned to the Academy too some weeks ago. Is he still here? Haven´t seen him for a week or so.” asked EN Longstreet, having vast interest in seeing this well-liked officer again. “Nope, he was transferred again, together with several other officers; but I don´t know any details - not my pay grade. Enough of this now, I´m going for lunch, will you join me?” Wrinkling his mouth a clear “NO!” came from Longstreet “You know better then I do that the food here isn´t first class as long as you´re no Bantha.” The SL grinned “I do, but you know the worse the food” “…the better the Army. And this from a guy who sits all day in a chair commenting pilots have of his age and double his abilities. I´m off, so see you later!”

 

Fighter pilots are said to be fit in most physical aspects, except for endurance. Well, everyone who´d have seen EN Longstreet running back to his quarter must have thought again over it (and for sure no one guessed that he just needed a new pack of cigarettes). Smoking as always anger turned up in him again as he thought of his assignment to train with a TIE-bomber. Rockets can be shot from Interceptors, too. Torpedos are for Gunboats. They hadn´t used space bombs for training as “they cost more than your monthly payment.” Bombers were slow, big and nearly un-manoeuvrable - give those to pilots a year away from retirement.

 

Then, lost in thoughts, Longstreet nearly walked into a line of cadets. And passing them by as on report was an officer clearly distinguishable from the normal folks going around on the Academy. Of normal build, with a face premising to be in the second half of his best years - but eyes that showed youthful power and enough metal on his chest to give him dignity of a man a century older. Jacob Jansen, Rear Admiral and Commandant of the Academy. Longstreet swallowed his cig and entered the formation within a second. He needed 2 seconds more to realise what he did and the fact that his chest and face turned into stone mode as the Admiral passed him. As the eye rolling human he was he saw that the other cadets had done the same with a look of pride in their faces; and EN Longstreet asked himself if he looked as funny as they when he did it. However the looks on the faces of several female cadets were different - a look he liked on women´s faces as long as they weren´t his subordinates and half of his age. It was a strange thing that needed much concentrated thought; what of course Longstreet realized in the moment he was in the flight simulator and piloted his bomber into his own space bomb.

 

Days passing, endless miles of corridor to walk, endless simulations, the Academy got really used to the Ensign again. And then, what all wanted in theory but not this case, news had arrived from the front. A squadron sized fighter unit of our dear Navy was destroyed - on special assignment under special circumstances. Last location, no wrecks or ship parts, no emergency signal, just rebels near it. Standard procedure even for special assignment Longstreet thought - missing in action, assumed death.

 

A list of the pilots of the unit appeared in line. Names he never heard, and he felt like in a bad old movie (“Where are you from, son?” Madison City, Missouri, Sir!” “Never heard of it.”) LT Fel? Never heard. Sin-Squadron? Never heard. VSD Dominance? That was a word heard before, and he felt sorry for it´s systems force as it was short of fighter pilots at this time. And then something appeared that he never thought to read: “Arkana!” Longstreet said “I in a bomber live longer than you in an Interceptor.” could be silently heard and a second later he drowned into a seat on the bar. In his bad mood Longstreet knew that death was part of their job, but it needed several hours and many many glasses of 48th Iridonian Scotch to accept it. However before clearing the whole reserve of the bar a message from SL Crognale arrived at Longstreets´ comlink, simply saying “New regular assignment, meeting now!”

 

Walking back to the squadron-lounge at zero-gravity (or at least it felt like this) and smoking 2 sentences formed in Longstreet´s mind: “Fly at your best so don´t die like the rest!” The second sentence was something with woman and subordinates; but that´s another story.