(no subject)
"ROGUE LEADER, WHERE'S OUR COVER?!"
Obediently he swerved with the stick and the etheric rudder pedals, thumbing the fire button and shooting down the dupes swarming the convoy. "You're clear, sir," he said, and because it was that kind of dream, the scene shifted. Now he was somewhere completely different, in high atmosphere, surrounded by dozens of eyeballs and squints, pursued by two of them.
He jinked and juked, but they stayed on his tail, hammering his shields with their lasers. Behind him something nonhuman moaned and screamed wordless accompaniment, his craft shuddering as he made himself as hard to hit as he could, took shots at the other squints when he saw them, and said, "Leader here. I could use some help."
"Leader, Two. You get mine, I'll get yours." He saw Two, in a craft like his - single-person, with a triangular pointed shape and four diagonal crossed wings - turn towards him, tailed by one squint.
The squint never saw him coming, and the nonhuman made a satisfied tone as he got a target lock and fired. He flew under the explosion, hearing debris ping against his shields, as Two went for his tail.
The scene shifted. "Rogue Squadron, we could use some help here!"
It shifted several more times. Sometimes he flew through deep space between capital ships that traded salvos of turbolaser fire. Once he flew across an endless expanse of city, towards a vast white dagger shape rising up out of the buildings. Once he flew over water, firing on colossal machines descending towards the surface. Once he flew through a sort of artificial canyon, the sides flashing past too quickly for him to make out the details. Always, there were enemies he had to take out. Most of the time Two and others were there with him, working with him, backing him up while the thing behind him screamed and fretted, bantering with him and each other. Sometimes they died. Somehow, he never did. He didn't know who they were, but he should have, and that odd, wrong sense was what told him that this was a dream.
The scene changed, and he was flying towards a similar huge white dagger shape, a smaller and less angular ship between it and him, as twelve tiny bright points propelled themselves towards the less angular ship. It wasn't that they were tiny, he realized abruptly, it was that the dagger shape was truly vast.
"-hurry," a man's voice was saying in his ear, a little distorted. "Thanks for the warning; now get back to the Quenfis." The voice stopped and something clicked.
His immediate response was a muttered "Like blazes we will!" and a louder, "Rogue Squadron; let's go." Someone tried to protest, and as he kicked the drive to full power and raced ahead, the scene changed.
He shot an eyeball and saw its hexagonal wings spiral off in two different directions
"I'm hit! Engine failure."
"Two, eject!" he said urgently, his hands tightening on the throttle. This wasn't the same Two he'd heard before, but it had to be Two, or he wouldn't use that number.
"Trying, Lead," but Two's voice was almost sleepy, each syllable an obvious effort.
More squints and eyeballs banked sharply to pursue him, and the scene changed. Now he plunged directly at another huge white dagger shape while the thing behind him shrieked in furious terror. His temper frayed, he snapped, "Shut up, Mynock! Distract me and we'll both end up dead!" It went silent, and under his breath he muttered, "I swear, if I survive this I'm wiping your memory and renaming you something heroic."
This time when the scene changed, it cut to black. He floated, sensing nothing, and waited.
Obediently he swerved with the stick and the etheric rudder pedals, thumbing the fire button and shooting down the dupes swarming the convoy. "You're clear, sir," he said, and because it was that kind of dream, the scene shifted. Now he was somewhere completely different, in high atmosphere, surrounded by dozens of eyeballs and squints, pursued by two of them.
He jinked and juked, but they stayed on his tail, hammering his shields with their lasers. Behind him something nonhuman moaned and screamed wordless accompaniment, his craft shuddering as he made himself as hard to hit as he could, took shots at the other squints when he saw them, and said, "Leader here. I could use some help."
"Leader, Two. You get mine, I'll get yours." He saw Two, in a craft like his - single-person, with a triangular pointed shape and four diagonal crossed wings - turn towards him, tailed by one squint.
The squint never saw him coming, and the nonhuman made a satisfied tone as he got a target lock and fired. He flew under the explosion, hearing debris ping against his shields, as Two went for his tail.
The scene shifted. "Rogue Squadron, we could use some help here!"
It shifted several more times. Sometimes he flew through deep space between capital ships that traded salvos of turbolaser fire. Once he flew across an endless expanse of city, towards a vast white dagger shape rising up out of the buildings. Once he flew over water, firing on colossal machines descending towards the surface. Once he flew through a sort of artificial canyon, the sides flashing past too quickly for him to make out the details. Always, there were enemies he had to take out. Most of the time Two and others were there with him, working with him, backing him up while the thing behind him screamed and fretted, bantering with him and each other. Sometimes they died. Somehow, he never did. He didn't know who they were, but he should have, and that odd, wrong sense was what told him that this was a dream.
The scene changed, and he was flying towards a similar huge white dagger shape, a smaller and less angular ship between it and him, as twelve tiny bright points propelled themselves towards the less angular ship. It wasn't that they were tiny, he realized abruptly, it was that the dagger shape was truly vast.
"-hurry," a man's voice was saying in his ear, a little distorted. "Thanks for the warning; now get back to the Quenfis." The voice stopped and something clicked.
His immediate response was a muttered "Like blazes we will!" and a louder, "Rogue Squadron; let's go." Someone tried to protest, and as he kicked the drive to full power and raced ahead, the scene changed.
He shot an eyeball and saw its hexagonal wings spiral off in two different directions
"I'm hit! Engine failure."
"Two, eject!" he said urgently, his hands tightening on the throttle. This wasn't the same Two he'd heard before, but it had to be Two, or he wouldn't use that number.
"Trying, Lead," but Two's voice was almost sleepy, each syllable an obvious effort.
More squints and eyeballs banked sharply to pursue him, and the scene changed. Now he plunged directly at another huge white dagger shape while the thing behind him shrieked in furious terror. His temper frayed, he snapped, "Shut up, Mynock! Distract me and we'll both end up dead!" It went silent, and under his breath he muttered, "I swear, if I survive this I'm wiping your memory and renaming you something heroic."
This time when the scene changed, it cut to black. He floated, sensing nothing, and waited.