[OOC] Dreams of a Unknown Pilot
His hands are on the controls and he already knows what to do, although he cannot shake the feeling that this is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. This is… strange. He spins his fighter into a dive, engines screaming as he descends on an enemy fighter - his HUD goes green and the tone of a good lock fills his ears as he squeezes the firing stud, red bolts of energy lancing out from his fighter as the ball-cockpit erupts in flames and flares, the wreckage tumbling away to the surface of the station below.
There are shouts coming over his commlink - garbled by jamming and the relatively primitive connections they have to make do with.
“Red Five where are you?”
“I’ve got one on my tail! Can’t see him!”
“Get this one off me! Biggs, where are you?”
Biggs? Biggs is… He frowns as he turns his fighter-craft back into the melee, angling for the fighter going after one of his friends. That name tickles something in his head, makes him think. There’s something else that he can’t remember, but he needs to do this now or his friend is dead. He gooses power into the engines trying to get there in time-
“Hang on-“ Static garbles the name, “I’m on him!”
Another familiar voice and as he watches, one of their fighters makes a daring head-on run to blast a fighter off of Five’s tail.
“Thanks-“
And the name is garbled in the transmission again. He can’t make it out. He’s frustrated. This isn’t right. Something isn’t right here. But he flies, falling in with his wing as the battle rages on. Minutes tick by and urgency fills the air. Two runs on the target have been destroyed… And now it’s his turn. Five leads him on, with Two right behind him. The trio of craft shoot down a narrow trench, jinking as the fire of the point-defense batteries die. He’s nervous - enemy fighters coming in behind them. He wipes sweat away from his brow as they shoot forward.
He can almost hear the scream of the enemy fighter craft as they drop in behind them. He begins to jink his craft as Red Two is hit - he has to pull out, leaving him in between Five and the craft behind. He concentrates on his task, tries to avoid the enemy fire. And then a horrible sense of dread and wrongness fills him, his hands freezing on the controls. This isn’t right, some part of his mind screams, he’s not supposed to be here. He shouldn’t be flying here and now. He should be in bed, he lived through this, he wasn’t even here-
And his world begins in a flash of fire and light.
There are shouts coming over his commlink - garbled by jamming and the relatively primitive connections they have to make do with.
“Red Five where are you?”
“I’ve got one on my tail! Can’t see him!”
“Get this one off me! Biggs, where are you?”
Biggs? Biggs is… He frowns as he turns his fighter-craft back into the melee, angling for the fighter going after one of his friends. That name tickles something in his head, makes him think. There’s something else that he can’t remember, but he needs to do this now or his friend is dead. He gooses power into the engines trying to get there in time-
“Hang on-“ Static garbles the name, “I’m on him!”
Another familiar voice and as he watches, one of their fighters makes a daring head-on run to blast a fighter off of Five’s tail.
“Thanks-“
And the name is garbled in the transmission again. He can’t make it out. He’s frustrated. This isn’t right. Something isn’t right here. But he flies, falling in with his wing as the battle rages on. Minutes tick by and urgency fills the air. Two runs on the target have been destroyed… And now it’s his turn. Five leads him on, with Two right behind him. The trio of craft shoot down a narrow trench, jinking as the fire of the point-defense batteries die. He’s nervous - enemy fighters coming in behind them. He wipes sweat away from his brow as they shoot forward.
He can almost hear the scream of the enemy fighter craft as they drop in behind them. He begins to jink his craft as Red Two is hit - he has to pull out, leaving him in between Five and the craft behind. He concentrates on his task, tries to avoid the enemy fire. And then a horrible sense of dread and wrongness fills him, his hands freezing on the controls. This isn’t right, some part of his mind screams, he’s not supposed to be here. He shouldn’t be flying here and now. He should be in bed, he lived through this, he wasn’t even here-
And his world begins in a flash of fire and light.