Mon Remonda, a galaxy far, far away
The past few months had put Myn through the proverbial wringer. Ever since Talon Squadron had been destroyed, it had been like living - or trying to live - in a thick fog. He'd thought it had begun to clear, finally, but that was not to be. And now the final blow had been delivered.
Commander Antilles had said no.
Myn had already packed the one duffel he would be bringing with him to civilian life. It was sitting next to the door of his quarters, the long case of his sniper rifle leaning against the wall beside it. Donos didn't quite understand why they were not only allowing him to bring it, but expecting him to keep his skill up as well. Granted, Commander Antilles had explained that this was not a permanent assignment, but Myn had seen enough pilots wash out to know when it happened to himself.
He lay on his back on his bunk, staring sightlessly at the plain white ceiling above him. His mind kept replaying the interview in all its painful glory.
Donos had been confident, standing outside Wedge's office. He had entered, saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
"Have a seat."
Donos complied, then quirked a smile. "Shall I take off my boot, sir?"
"Not this time, Lieutenant. I've asked you in here to find out what role you'd like to play in the Vahaba mission."
"If I could do anything I wanted?"
"That's right."
"I'd be back in my X-wing. That's where I feel I belong."
"And if that were denied you?"
"I'd like to be put in command of the Millennium Falsehood."
Wedge leaned back. Donos's comment had taken him momentarily off guard, though he believed he'd kept his surprise from his face. "That has been my role."
"I expect you'd rather be back in your X-wing, sir."
"I don't recall inviting you to attempt mind reading, Donos."
Donos's expression became more serious. "No, sir. But we've flown in the same squadron. Learning to anticipate the reactions of your squadmates - emotional ones as well as physical reflexes - is a survival trait. Maybe you find it a gross insult for me to make predictions this way, sir, but I'd say you wanted to get back in your X-wing cockpit and were doing the Falsehood runs because of duty. Because you're most qualified - second, perhaps, to General Solo. If I can't fly my own snubfighter, I'd be happy to free you up to fly yours."
"Very generous of you. What if you couldn’t pilot at all?"
"Then I’d volunteer for a gunnery position on the Falsehood."
"And in any of these three roles, what would you do about Lara Notsil?"
Donos hesitated, and his expression went from somber to melancholy. "I'd follow orders, sir."
"What orders would you prefer?"
"Let her go."
"And if you were ordered to fire on her?"
"I'd do it. I've sworn an oath to the New Republic. To hold its needs above my own."
"And if you killed her? What would you do then?"
"I don’t know, sir." Donos's eyes lost focus as they stared off into the distance - perhaps to some future. His expression suggested that this future was not appealing to him. "I don’t know who I'd be then, sir."
"Fair enough." Wedge regarded the lieutenant for a moment.
That was when he dropped the heavy end of the hammer.
"I'm sorry, Donos. As much as I would love to certify you fit to fly, Donos, I can't. You're still too unstable to put back in a cockpit." Wedge took a moment to type a few words into his terminal, then sent a copy of the data to Myn's datapad. "I have a different mission for you."
A different mission. Right. A mission in civilian life, in becoming someone Myn Donos wasn't sure he could ever successfully become. Years in school and then the training programs for the armed forces - and Wedge was sending him to another school. It made Donos feel like he'd failed not only as a pilot, but as a human being. It was an unpleasant feeling.
The only thing that was left for him was to go to this world and fulfill his mission. It was like he had told Wedge; Myn had sworn an oath to the New Republic. He would not go back on that oath.
Still, it hurt like hell.
He'd failed.
(most of this post taken shamelessly from Solo Command by the amazing Aaron Allston. NFI, NFB and other acronyms! OOC comments will be happily eaten with pie and ice cream.)
Commander Antilles had said no.
Myn had already packed the one duffel he would be bringing with him to civilian life. It was sitting next to the door of his quarters, the long case of his sniper rifle leaning against the wall beside it. Donos didn't quite understand why they were not only allowing him to bring it, but expecting him to keep his skill up as well. Granted, Commander Antilles had explained that this was not a permanent assignment, but Myn had seen enough pilots wash out to know when it happened to himself.
He lay on his back on his bunk, staring sightlessly at the plain white ceiling above him. His mind kept replaying the interview in all its painful glory.
Donos had been confident, standing outside Wedge's office. He had entered, saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
"Have a seat."
Donos complied, then quirked a smile. "Shall I take off my boot, sir?"
"Not this time, Lieutenant. I've asked you in here to find out what role you'd like to play in the Vahaba mission."
"If I could do anything I wanted?"
"That's right."
"I'd be back in my X-wing. That's where I feel I belong."
"And if that were denied you?"
"I'd like to be put in command of the Millennium Falsehood."
Wedge leaned back. Donos's comment had taken him momentarily off guard, though he believed he'd kept his surprise from his face. "That has been my role."
"I expect you'd rather be back in your X-wing, sir."
"I don't recall inviting you to attempt mind reading, Donos."
Donos's expression became more serious. "No, sir. But we've flown in the same squadron. Learning to anticipate the reactions of your squadmates - emotional ones as well as physical reflexes - is a survival trait. Maybe you find it a gross insult for me to make predictions this way, sir, but I'd say you wanted to get back in your X-wing cockpit and were doing the Falsehood runs because of duty. Because you're most qualified - second, perhaps, to General Solo. If I can't fly my own snubfighter, I'd be happy to free you up to fly yours."
"Very generous of you. What if you couldn’t pilot at all?"
"Then I’d volunteer for a gunnery position on the Falsehood."
"And in any of these three roles, what would you do about Lara Notsil?"
Donos hesitated, and his expression went from somber to melancholy. "I'd follow orders, sir."
"What orders would you prefer?"
"Let her go."
"And if you were ordered to fire on her?"
"I'd do it. I've sworn an oath to the New Republic. To hold its needs above my own."
"And if you killed her? What would you do then?"
"I don’t know, sir." Donos's eyes lost focus as they stared off into the distance - perhaps to some future. His expression suggested that this future was not appealing to him. "I don’t know who I'd be then, sir."
"Fair enough." Wedge regarded the lieutenant for a moment.
That was when he dropped the heavy end of the hammer.
"I'm sorry, Donos. As much as I would love to certify you fit to fly, Donos, I can't. You're still too unstable to put back in a cockpit." Wedge took a moment to type a few words into his terminal, then sent a copy of the data to Myn's datapad. "I have a different mission for you."
A different mission. Right. A mission in civilian life, in becoming someone Myn Donos wasn't sure he could ever successfully become. Years in school and then the training programs for the armed forces - and Wedge was sending him to another school. It made Donos feel like he'd failed not only as a pilot, but as a human being. It was an unpleasant feeling.
The only thing that was left for him was to go to this world and fulfill his mission. It was like he had told Wedge; Myn had sworn an oath to the New Republic. He would not go back on that oath.
Still, it hurt like hell.
He'd failed.
(most of this post taken shamelessly from Solo Command by the amazing Aaron Allston. NFI, NFB and other acronyms! OOC comments will be happily eaten with pie and ice cream.)