Battle of Yavin

2010-09-05, 20:45 w Articles > Short stories

371

Jedi Nadiru Radena

Rating: 3.00

Ruby and emerald lines cross in the darkness of space. Amber-colored fireballs explode again and again. Red, green and orange flashes flow through the oval canopy...

Where am I? These flashes... I know them from somewhere.

I guess that... Yes, now I remember.

I’m in the cockpit of my starfighter again. I am wearing my flight suit again. I’m at the helm again. I’m fighting the enemy again. The Rebels are attacking the Death Star again.

But how did I get here?

I was born on a small, rich planet, somewhere in the Core Worlds. My friends talked me into joining the Imperial Navy. I never had any fondness for shining starships, perfectly ironed uniforms or that characteristic rush of emotions that flying evokes. But later I started to like it. Everything was so beautiful, so ideal. Sure, the training was rough, tiring and long, but I passed all the tests. I was assigned to a star cruiser, and then the grand Death Star itself.

But no, it’s not about that.

How did I get here, to this place? And what place is this anyway? I can’t remember.

We left the Alderaan system and then... where did we go? I don’t think they even told us. Besides, why should they? It’s not our business.

Then I remember the cry of alarm. The Rebels attacked us.

Stupidity. Yes, I thought it was stupidity. Three incomplete squadrons against moon-sized battle station and, what, six or seven thousands of TIE Fighters? Stupidity, isn’t it? But nobody ordered us to launch.

We joked that those so-called freedom fighters had mistaken us for some sort of asteroid. Or had bumped into our force field. Well, they were always the target of our jokes. Their zealous doggedness bordered on idiocy and, at the same time, was funny. The officers told us that they were “terrorists”, but for us they were just a band of morons.

Then we got orders from Lord Vader himself.

I jumped into the cockpit and thirty seconds later my fighter was ready to go. I launched immediately, fearing that I won’t even get a chance to pull the trigger, with so many of our pilots flying around. It turned out there was nothing to be worried about - only our fighter wing launched.

Then I heard the sound of alarm. One of those four-winged got me. I started to feel real fear. I just couldn’t lose him. I think he burned my solar panel and I started to swirl... no, I swirled later. First something shook me pretty hard and my controls blocked.

The only thing I saw were the stars. The stars and nothing more.

Then a bright light flooded my canopy.

And... I don’t remember anything else.

Did the battle end? No, it couldn’t have, I’m still fighting. I’m still holding the controls, I’m still hearing new orders in my helmet, and I’m still blasting the enemy with my cannons. Red and green laser bolts are still crossing each other, but it’s all for nothing. I’m destroying one Rebel, and then another one comes in his place. And another one, and another one. I’m yelling at my communicator, but nobody answers.

I’m shooting, shooting, shooting... but they are still coming... Or aren’t they? There are no more orange fireballs... there are no more crimson lightnings... no more starfighters... no Death Star... no canopy... no cockpit... no controls...

There are only the stars. And nothingness. Except for the pain. Unbelievable pain.

I think the battle is over. Yes, it must be over. It’s time to get back home. To get some rest.

I’m so tired. Yes, the battle is certainly over. I can rest.

But no, it’s not over yet.

Ruby and emerald lines cross in the darkness of space. Amber-colored fireballs explode time after time. Red, green and orange flashes flow through the oval canopy...

I’m in the cockpit of my starfighter again. I am wearing my flight suit again. I’m at the helm again. I’m fighting the enemy again. The Rebels are attacking the Death Star again.

Translation by: Jedi Nadiru Radena; proof-read by: Michał Wyszyński