Back in the Seat

2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks

Twelve years after Episode IV – A New Hope

It was an easy life, really.

The life of a free trader. You got to travel from system to system, stopping off at stations and colonies, transporting goods and materials. You made new friends every week, saw new places every month, watched the stars shimmer through the viewport and allowed the sight to lull you to sleep on the long voyages. The credits were good and you got to make your own hours.

But to be behind the controls of a fighter, as a combat pilot.

You took the good times with the bad – stuffed-up customs officers looking down on you as you unpack crates for them to inspect, traffic controllers barking at you to stay on your approach or get the hell out of their space. Military-types pushing into the crowded approach patterns to a station or targeting you as you came in, testing their fire control systems on your ship which suddenly went haywire with the blare of target acquisition warnings. Certainly kept you on your guard.

But the fighter. The big, powerful fighter and her oh-so-responsive controls.

Citizens or station personnel making jokes about your personal hygiene after long space voyages, nodding and winking at each other as they guess at what you’ve been up to all that time on-mission. Arguments on board ship with the engineer swearing at the co-pilot who blames it on the navigator, and then crashing down the local brew house and forgetting the on-board problems after a few glasses, celebrating another contract completed.

But to be sat at the yoke, the full-view cockpit allowing you total vision of the surrounding space, the big engines burning at max as your heads-up display kicks in to lock onto another hostile, the thrusters keeping you level as you line up the shot and then wham – full burst from the lasers and the target evaporates in the cold vacuum.

Beyad screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, a sudden need to shake the nervous feeling out of his system overpowering his ability to keep his feelings secret. He grunted softly as he shunned the memories of his time in the cockpit of the gunboat.

Anne noticed his expression and smiled.

   “Not quite like flying an X-wing, eh, captain?”

The comment brought Beyad out of his reverie and he looked over at his co-pilot, his smile slowly creeping over his mouth.

   “Three years I’ve been flying this crate and I still get the urge to hit the max burn and see what she can do.”

With a laugh Anne tapped the flight console.

   “I’ll tell you what the War’s End will do, captain, she’ll fly apart like a Tatooine pastry in a high wind. She’s a transport, not a combat craft.”

   “Just once.”

   “Don’t go there...”

   “Just one roll would be nice...”

   “Goodbye hull, goodbye superstructure, goodbye life support...”

   “Maybe a sharp dive...”

   “Engines rip off, air sucks out into space...”

   “Dammit, Anne, not even a quick burst on the left thruster?”

   “No!” Anne batted Beyad’s hand away as he leaned over to activate the thrusters. He sat back in his seat and sighed heavily, running his hands down his face.

Anne shook her head and continued smiling.

   “Your military days are over, captain. You’re retired.”

   “Biggest mistake I ever made.”

   “Aw, but then you would never have met us lot.”

Beyad thought about it for a few seconds.

   “Biggest mistake I ever made,” he repeated but Anne pretended not to have heard him. She leaned back in her acceleration chair and pushed her long red hair back with her hands.

They both fell silent, the sudden quiet not uncomfortable to them as they both appreciated each other’s company. The cockpit wasn’t small – in fact, it could have seated another seven or eight ship crew quite comfortably – but Beyad had spent a lot of money on slave-systems so that minimum bridge personnel could comfortably run the vessel. It continuously bleeped and whined as systems ticked over or completed programs, started new ones. Screens and monitors scrolled information too quickly for the eye to read as the on-board computers ran internal sequences to keep the ship capable. It was dark except for these screens so that the pair could see out of the viewport, watch the stars shine and the sweeping nebulae ahead glow with red and purple colouration.

Anne knew why her captain was getting so fidgety, why he wanted to do something wild and dangerous with their ship. This particular contract, bringing supplies and technical equipment to the Euphoria Space Station, had taken a lot longer than neccessary and Beyad was getting unsettled. He wanted a firmer gravity under his feet and the feeling of wide-open spaces. Euphoria Station was on the very edge of the Setnin Sector and this trip was always fraught with stellar hazards and navigational problems. Flying to the Galli Station, picking up the parts, piloting the ship through the planetoid rings, seventeen-hour journey through hyperspace, out at the edge of the Euphoria’s perimeter, two-hour flight to the station, avoiding rogue meteors and class three dust clouds...

It wasn’t just the journey. She also knew of someone else at the station he was looking forward to meeting.

   “Mastens found another shorted circuit in the engineering sub-bay,” Anne said as she tried to bring Beyad back to the present. He had a far-away look in his eyes that she always tried to bring him out of. She knew he missed his military days and didn’t want him spending the rest of the mission pining for the past.

   “Which system?” Beyad said with an almost disinterested air.

   “Power reserve. The automatic shunt system.”

   “Not important. We’ll replace it on docking with Euphoria Station.”

Anne looked at him with a twisted mouth and narrowed her eyes. Although it wasn’t an important system she wished he’d taken a little more interest.

   “And Willos found mynock droppings in the food storage locker,” she lied with a sarcastic drawl.

   “Then find the thing and shoot it,” Beyad said with the same indifferent tone. “It’s probably better than the crap we’ve been eating the past month, anyway.”  He looked over to see Anne watching him with an exasperated look. “What?”

   “Captain...”

   “Look, Anne, I’m a combat pilot. I’ve pulled a lot of G’s which have scrambled my neurons so I reserve the right to wander.”

   “That’s not it. You’re thinking about Sall.”

At the mention of the woman Beyad was hoping to see at the Abyss Station he suddenly became active, theatrically showing his shock.

   “No, I am not...”

   “Yes, you are, you’re hoping the Moz’a’ti is docked there so you can have dinner with her and reminisce about the good old days in the Alliance.”

   “Ah....” Beyad went back to his daydream, over emphasising his thoughts.

   “ ‘Ah’ what? ‘Ah’ Sall?”

   “No, I was thinking about the Moz’a’ti.”

Anne slapped him lightly on the arm.

   “Oh, go on with you...”

   “No, really. New Republic warship, top line cruiser, turbolaser batteries, guided concussion  missiles, rapid-fire cannons and ablative armour to die for.”

   “Captain...”

   “Oh, stop it with the ‘captain’ pudu, Anne, of course I was thinking of Sall. I was hoping we could start again where we left off, you know.”

   “Oh, I get it, captain of a hire transport trying to score with a warship commander of the New Republic. Can I start a book on that?”

   “Oi.”

   “I’m only joking. You’re serious about her then?”

Beyad sighed, the joking temporarily placed to one side as he shifted in his seat in thought. It did sound a little crazy, he had to admit, the idea that a transport captain could even hope to start something with the commanding officer of a New Republic vessel. But they had been close in the ranks after the end of the civil war, closer during officer’s training and virtually bonded at the genetic level as wingmen in the squadron. When he had parted with the military and she had just carried on rising in the rank system they had drifted apart but they had always kept in touch. Beyad chewed his mouth thoughtfully, remembering the last time he had spoken to her was almost a standard year ago and he hadn’t spoken to her face-to-face since he had left the Republic.

He just hoped that she’d received his message; and that she would agree to his request.

   “I’ve always been serious about her,” he said quickly, a little more than a whisper as he sifted through his feelings quickly. “If I’d stayed in the squadron I’d have asked her to marry me.”

Anne had thought of something funny to say but she let it go as she watched his face relax and become soft as he thought of what could have been. She nodded and stayed silent. Her captain spoke about how he felt when he desired to and she wasn’t going to push him into a conversation about it.

Beyad was about to add something but a monitor suddenly flashed on Anne’s board and she quickly pressed several buttons as a low-decibel alarm sounded.

   “Looks like we’re coming up on the outer marker,” she reported as the monitor relayed the data. “Euphoria Station arrival in one hour.”

   “Okay, call the boys and start the deceleration procedure.”

Anne tapped a panel on her console and reached for her headset, which was hanging casually from her seat’s headrest. As she placed the unit over her head and curled the mouthpiece to her mouth there was a hiss and a clicking sound from a hidden speaker.

   “Willos.” The voice was deep and male.

   “We just hit the outer marker. Prep the cargo, will you?”

   “At last. I’m on it.”

She pressed another panel.

   “Yeah? That you, cap?”

   “It’s Anne. We just reached the outer marker.”

   “Excellent. Give me five and I’ll divert power to engines.”

   “Good.” She looked over at Beyad. “Stations are prepping, captain.”

Beyad looked a little confused.

   “When since has Mastens been calling me ‘cap’?”

   “Ever since you started calling him ‘Massy’.”

   “Right. Remind him never to call me that again. Okay, I’m disengaging the main drive. Hit the shipwide, will you?”

All around the ship an alarm sounded, not loud enough to be annoying but loud enough to be heard over whatever an individual was doing, and small blue lights starting flashing in every section.

   “Right, have Mastens start the flow. As soon as I’ve disconnected the main drive, we’ll go for a thirty second burst and coast the rest of the way there.”

   “Got it.”

Beyad set a small counter to thirty seconds and then tapped a few more keys, highlighting a series of switches that rose from the board. Then he pulled back on a large handgrip, after which he pressed a few more buttons which lost their internal lighting as he did so. The huge engine at the rear of the long ship started to lose its blue glow as power was cut to the ion drive.

   “Killing main engines. Is the flow nominal?”

   “The readings are all in the green.”

   “Okay, everyone,” Beyad moved his mouthpiece into position and gripped the steering yoke. “Give me a go for burn.”

   “Willos. Go.”

  “Mastens. Erm... go.”

   “Erm? What the hell are you doing down there, Mastens?”

   “Don’t worry about it.”

   “About what?”

   “Nothing.”

The two bridge personnel looked at each and shared a quick laugh before Beyad reached out to his left and allowed his finger to hover over a series of four buttons joined by a bar which, when pressed, moved them all simultaneously. 

   “Three. Two. One. Burn!”

There was a slight shift that knocked everyone back but it lasted only a few seconds. The main engines glowed then seemed to explode as they threw energy into the void to force the vessel forward.

Beyad counted down slowly, watching the readout as the ship increased in speed, then flicked the switches back. The main engine drive cut out but the ship, however, continued at the same velocity. Everyone relaxed.

   “Call the station and advise them of our ETA,” Beyad said as he undid his seat straps and stood up to get the ache out of his back.

The Euphoria Station was a bustle of activity, it’s cavernous interior filled with walkways and aliens. Shops and service units peppered the walkways and the inner walls of the cavern, surrounded by landing bays of varying sizes and support stations of varying uses. Personal repulsorcraft shot between the huge towering interior columns.

Beyad sat in the Yapya Restaurant on stanchion twelve level three. His hot cup of chav had stopped steaming as he had waited patiently for the last half-hour so he tapped the heating stud to get it back to temperature.

He looked up as the Twi’lek waitress approached for the fourth time to ask him if he was ready to order. He shook his head and she smiled, nodding her own and backing away. As he watched her walk back into the thick crowd of customers at the bar he noticed a perfectly pressed New Republic uniform making it’s way through the press of beings.

Sall walked up to him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breath. He knew the message he had sent to her was probably the last thing she had expected.

What would her answer be?

   “Beyad,” she said in a whisper. He stood to his full height and gazed at her. Her hair was shorter, cut into a brown bob that ended just below her ears. Her narrow eyes regarded him and she said nothing.

Quickly he saluted.

   “Sorry... Commander.”

She smiled warmly.

   “I’m off duty, and you’re retired,” she said. She stepped closer and took in a deep breath. “How have you been, Beyad?”

   “Fine, just fine,” he answered and motioned to the empty seat at the table. “Sit down.” He managed to catch the attention of the Twi’lek waitress and she nodded.

   “How’s things in the NR?” he asked politely. Sall shrugged.

   “The Moz’a’ti is undergoing repairs and things are pretty quiet. I’m just doing personnel reviews these days, it’s endless. How’s the trade?”

   “It pays my way,” he shrugged also. “The War’s End’s a pretty good ship.”

They were interrupted by the Twi’lek as she took Sall’s order and then moved away quickly. Beyad leaned forward.

   “Excuse my attire,” he said. “I’ve only been docked for a couple of hours.”

   “Sorry I’m late,” Sall said and then quickly changed the subject. “Look, Beyad, I got your message...”

Beyad held up his hands.

   “Listen, I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to ask you that and I know you’ll probably... it’s been a long time. I’ve gone over and over in my head what I wanted to say and now I’m here I’m all tongue-tied.”

Sall watched him and grinned as he reached the end of his sentence.

   “I have to admit, it wasn’t the kind of hello message I’ve been waiting on for so long. I’ve got to admire you’re forwardness.”

Beyad had started to talk and now found it difficult to stop.

   “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about it for so long, thought about it almost endlessly, and finally I just knew I had to ask you. I’ve put it off and put it off... but I knew I had to ask before I lost my nerve. I’m sorry if it makes things difficult for you.”

Sall listened patiently and nodded.

   “It was difficult, but in the end I couldn’t refuse you. It’s always been you and me, Beyad, and I’m not going to say ‘no’, am I?”

Beyad found that his heart was racing and a sweat had broken out on his forehead. “So...?”

   “Yes, Beyad. The answer is yes.”

He tried hard to contain his excitement but he couldn’t help himself. He clenched his fists and only just managed to stop from crying out. He bit his hand and then breathed in hard to calm his feelings.

   “Sall, you don’t know what that means to me,” he whispered.

   “So,” Sall leaned back and crossed her arms, “when do you want to ride?”

   “What have you got?”

   “An X-Wing.”

   “Really?”

   “Original Alliance spec. We’ve had it on the Moz’a’ti as a ready one fighter but command doesn’t mind, whilst we’re dry-docked. You can take her out when you want.”

Beyad sighed.

   “Sall, when I sent that message I thought I’d get a no because it’s been a while since I called.”

   “Like I said, it wasn’t the kind of call I expected, but you always were forward. Why were you desperate to fly a fighter again, anyway?”

   “I like the War’s End, Sall, but... do you remember our first solo flights?”

   “I do.”

   “In the cockpit. Nothing around us but space and vacuum. Everyone else wanted to blast the recon buoys but I just wanted to fly. Bank and turn, split-S dive into a jink to flip over and spin into a roll that leaves the wingman trailing. I miss it, Sall. I need to get into the seat again. Just one more time before I’m too old to appreciate it.”

Sall nodded.

   “And maybe we can have a bite to eat and catch up on old times, too, huh?”

   “Oh, yeah,” Beyad grinned. “That too.”

Back in the Seat

2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks

Twelve years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – A continuing adventure in the life of Beyad, Rebel Alliance hero of the Galactic Civil War who had left the New Republic after too many years of war. Tired of his mundane life, he here makes attempts to grab a measure of his past life.

Cast of Characters

Beyad

Sall

Anne

Willos

Mastens