***
Phalanx’s TIE Defender eased onto a soft clump of Helskan permafrost inside Base Camp Hangar Bay. He propped open his dorsal hatch and climbed out of the snubfighter. Steam rose off of Phalanx’s sweating body. Immediately, a Base Camp crew member rushed over to Phalanx, wrapping a heavy wool blanket around the wet body to prevent hypothermia.
Beside Phalanx, eleven other snubfighters landed with their pilots getting out. Each pilot received a blanket just like Phalanx. The rest of Three flight walked over to the rookie pilot, Phalanx Allger. They gave him congratulatory handshakes while the rest of Wake Squadron came over to inquire about the events that transpired above Helska.
“You all should’ve seen Phalanx flying out there like he was Soointer Fel! POW, POW, BANG! Those weird TIE Fighters and that space station all went down by the shot of Swoops.” Bop retold the rest of Wake Squadron. In the back of the crowd, Ian stood propped against his TIE Defender gathering the story with a wide smile.
The crow dispersed after awhile, heading towards the hastily constructed and named Base Camp Lounge for some drinks, all of which were covered by the Empire’s tax paying tab. At the lounge, Three Flight told their adventure to Wake Squadron over and over, and they told their story to any Base Camp personnel that happened to walk into the lounge.
The Jaket Squadron members sauntered into Base Camp Lounge after the skies had been secured. All of them were dressed in green flight suits—Jaket Squadron’s color—except for one who was dressed in Gold. Phalanx hypothesized the man dressed in gold was the leader of Jaket Squadron.
“Where’s those drinks you owe us, Three Flight?” Gold spoke.
Bop cupped his hand to Phalanx’s ear. “That’s Ryan Bar, otherwise known as Gold Leader,” Bop whispered. Phalanx nodded his head in understanding.
“The rookie will cover it!” Five and eleven chimed.
Phalanx cowered behind Bop, not wanting to pick up the tab.
“Where is that rookie? Swoops was it?” Bar asked.
Bop moved away from Phalanx, revealing him to Jaket Squadron. “Here’s Phalanx, otherwise known as Swoops. He’s trying to evade that hefty tab!” Bop said enthusiastically.
Ryan Bar crossed the room, stepping over reclining Wake Squadron members. “Put it here, Swoops,” Ryan Bar extended his hand to be shaken. “Your flying was amazing out there for a rookie. I think I’ll steal you over to my squadron.”
“Oh no you won’t!” Ian argued. “The only reason he’d be going over to you Jakets is cause he is so much better at flying than you guys.”
Ryan Bar cringed at this comment, then smiled. “Well, it seems Commander Ian has just volunteered to pick up our tab and treat us Jakets to drinks.”
Ian surrendered, pulling out a large credit tab. He handed it to Ryan Bar who pocketed it with a smile. Phalanx smiled, too. He found a fun pilot’s life more rewarding than the scum of Swoop Racing. Oh, how not boring Helska was.
The next morning, after a dream filled night on a hard cot inside the heat-lacking Base Camp temporary barracks, Phalanx walked to the hangar bays alone clad only in sweat pants another Under Armor shirt and a Wake Squadron wind breaker with the words Swoops stitched in italics.
He walked alone to his TIE Defender, lightly scorched with marks from debris, atmosphere, and stray laser blasts. Next to the TIE Defender was a can of paint. Phalanx picked the can up and dipped the paintbrush into it.
Carefully, Phalanx painted three ovals, colored in black. After that, he painted six vertical bars with round cockpits in the middle. Finally, he painted a Skyhook Space Defense Platform. In the center of the platform, he wrote ‘Ebruchi, Helska Campaign.’
“Nice job, ace.” Wake Squadron Commander Ian placed a hand on Phalanx’s left shoulder. “I told you if you saw action I’d expect you to become an ace. 7 kills in one run. Not too shabby there.”
Stepping in unison with the chur chunking of an AT-ST walking patrol outside, Wake Squadron Executive Officer Nora Downing came into the room, not visible to Phalanx’s turned body.
“On behalf of the New Order, I, Wake Squadron Commander Amad Ian, present to you, Flight Officer Phalanx, Swoops, Allger, with Executive Officer Nora Downing in witness, your Imperial wings and rank of Flight Lieutenant, First Tier for your remarkable flying and initiative during the Helska Campaign.”
Ian smiled and pulled a leather case from his pocket. He flipped it open. Inside was a Lieutenant, First Tier, bar and a copper medal of achievement. Also, Imperial Wings with the Imperial Insignia was in the case. Phalanx took it with a wide smile, shaking his Commander’s hand vigorously.
“It looks like you’ll work out good here in Wake Squadron, Phalanx. Glad you joined.” Ian wrapped his arm around Phalanx. “That sure wasn’t bad for your first run. Not too bad at All, Phalanx Allger.”
The two walked off, leaving Nora to clean up the paint. Phalanx’s mind raced. With all the unexpected action,
Phalanx looked forward to his next Imperial Campaign, as did the Supreme Imperial Command.
