Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.

All was quiet in the space above Ank Kit'aar. The Imperial Star Destroyer Devastator slowly drifted in the planet's orbit, on the border of its gravitational field. She stood watch in the silence of the void, her white paint shining under the sun's rays, a looming but still presence in this remote corner of the Mid Rim.

The peace was disturbed by a Theta class shuttle exiting hyperspace. She set on a direct course towards the huge battleship and hailed her as soon as she came in range.

"Imperial Star Destroyer Devastator, this is shuttle Corintium requesting permission to dock."

A few seconds passed before the answer came through.

"Shuttle Corintium, transmit the clearance codes for access."

"Transmission commencing," replied the pilot as he pushed a few buttons on the instrument panel, giving the command to send the data.

For a moment, the only sounds in the cockpit were the whirring of engines and the buzzing of high speed transmission; then the channel reopened and the same officer spoke again.

"Shuttle Corintium, permission to dock granted. Proceed to deck B-49, aft bay."

The shuttle continued on her path and positioned herself under Devastator's large belly. Two lids slowly opened in the Star Destroyer's hull, like a wide mouth swallowing the smaller ship then closing to trap her inside.

Monitored by duty officers, Corintium made her way in a docking bay buzzing with activity. Pilots ran, maintenance workers attended crafts, commanders yelled orders at the soldiers; all around, stormtroopers patrolled, keeping an eye out for any suspicious behaviour. Without paying them any attention, the shuttle flew over them and landed on the deck. Her engines stopped and her latch opened to let out her passengers.

Black uniform neatly pressed, cap jammed on his dark blond hair, bag on his shoulder, Luke descended the shuttle's ramp among the other recruits. His sharp eyes wandered across the ship, burning with curiosity as he took in every detail. The sheer size of the bay was overwhelming, there were so many things to see it was hard to be anything but completely enthralled.

He had studied the setting of a regular Star Destroyer at length, but setting foot into one was something else entirely.

He was so taken in his contemplation that he nearly failed to see the purposeful mechanic running into his path, and stopped just in time to avoid crashing into him.

"Watch where ya goin'," the man said, throwing him an annoyed look.

"Sorry," Luke mumbled in response.

But the worker was already away. The young man sighed, feeling a bit lost. He was the only one of his class assigned to Devastator, and he couldn't help a sting of loneliness at having to confront the hugeness of the Imperial flagship by himself. He wondered if any of his friends were in the same situation, trying to make sense of the Navy without knowing whom to turn to.

His thoughts wandered towards Biggs, his childhood best friend. Biggs' support had finally helped him convince his family to let him apply to the Academy, and they had been all but inseparable for the two years their training had lasted. Luke had no doubt that, had his friend been with him now, he would have found his way without any problem, all the while teasing him for being so impressible.

He put these musings away, unwilling to dwell on his worry for his friend and how much he missed him. Right, find a deck officer, he recalled the instructions given to him at the Academy. A glance down at the datapad containing his orders brought back a smile on his face. He was going to be a pilot. At last.

He scanned the docking bay for familiar faces, and managed to spot some of the others he'd seen aboard the shuttle. He jogged towards them, figuring they all had to get through the same point before getting redirected to their stations. His comrades stopped in front of a man in his early thirties with a serious look on his face, exchanged a few words with him, then bowed and went their way as Luke approached.

"Ensign Luke Lars, reporting for duty, sir," he said with a salute.

The officer saluted back, and Luke handed him his datapad.

"You're assigned to the 61st squadron," the officer said. He typed a signature code into the orders sheet, then gave it back to the young man. "Down this hall, take the second on your right, section 928. You're expected in the command room."

Luke thanked him, then walked away, unsure if he could find his way through the maze of corridors making out the innards of the Star Destroyer.

Fortunately, his instructions had been clear enough. After only a few minutes of wandering, Luke stepped in a room that he was confident was the right place. Its walls were grey, like those of the rest of the ship, with a couple of unlit screens hanging from them. There was no furniture but a holographic console in the middle of the room, with place for about a dozen people to stand around it. An officer stood there, studying some reports, before turning when he heard Luke enter. He was a lieutenant, a bit taller than Luke, with dark brown hair and a strict but somewhat soft air about him. The young man saluted and introduced himself.

"Ah, Ensign Lars," the officer said. "I'm Lieutenant Tanbris, we've been expecting you."

He looked him over once again, and a frown appeared on his face as his eyes roamed over Luke's figure. The young man remained at perfect attention, doing his best not to show his unease.

"How old are you, Ensign?" Lt. Tanbris finally asked.

"I'm eighteen standard, sir," Luke answered, a bit puzzled by the question.

Lt. Tanbris' eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Fresh out of the Academy, then?"

"Yes, sir, I just graduated a few days ago. Why?"

An uneasy second passed; then Lt. Tanbris's face relaxed, as if shaken from a thought. He gave Luke a small smile.

"Nothing. This is only unexpected. I know we've been in cruel lack of new blood lately, but... Never mind. Ensign Phennir will be arriving in a moment to show you around before your first shift."

Luke nodded, looking around while Lt. Tanbris went back to his reports. It would have been nice to have somewhere to sit: he felt rather awkward, waiting like this.

"Don't worry," Lt. Tanbris advised him, without looking up from his work. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

Luke muttered a thanks, a bit annoyed that his nervousness was so obvious. It wasn't so much that he was afraid, just incredibly impatient. He couldn't wait to learn his duties, get in the cockpit and fly like he'd waited to do for years now.

Flying had always come naturally to him. When they were younger, he and Biggs used to race madly through the canyons of Tatooine, pulling stunts that frightened their friends. Biggs had been the only one who understood the exhilaration of speed, of moving through the air like nothing held you back. Nothing else had ever given Luke that absolute feeling of freedom and happiness, and he'd soon decided that was what he wanted to do for a living. He yearned to leave the planet, to see the galaxy and fly among the stars.

But this desire had another source as well, a more secret one. Luke rarely spoke about it, and then only to the people he felt close to. His father had been a pilot before he died at the end of the Clone Wars, shortly before his birth, and Luke had always held an undying fascination for him. His whole childhood, he had longed to know him: did he have the same blond hair, blue eyes and restlessness as he had? Did he also laugh in pure bliss when flying? Had he looked at the sky like he did, and want nothing else than take off to meet it? The stories he made up had always involved him somehow. He had wanted to make him proud, from wherever he was.

Now that he was older, Luke had finally accepted that his parent was gone, never to come back. But it didn't help a stray thought to wander to him from time to time. Right now, he wondered what his father would think, seeing him become what he'd always wanted to be. It was a heart-warming thought, and he indulged in it, a smile blooming on his lips. He felt as though the universe was only waiting for him to apply his mark on it.

An unknown voice pulled him out of it.

"Care to share what's so funny?"

He turned his head towards the sound. A man with black hair, broad shoulders and a light brown, angular face was looking at him, or rather looking him up and down. He'd crossed his arms over his chest; above his sharp cheekbones, dark eyes held a calculating spark.

Before Luke could answer, Lt. Tanbris stepped in.

"Ensign Phennir, this is Luke Lars, your new wingmate and squadron member. He just arrived on board and needs to be shown around."

Phennir's joyless smile fell as he stared at Luke.

"You're a kid," he said, turning up a straight and flat nose without bothering to hide his contempt.

Luke's pride flared at the easy dismissal, and he was unable to suppress a glare.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Kids don't end up in Black Squadron," the man glared at him. "We're not Flight School."

"Tell that to my superiors," Luke snapped. "Not like I'd have chosen to fly with the likes of you by myself!"

He saw the tension rise in the other man, saw his fists tighten, but he didn't back off an inch. The nerve of him! He'd show him he could fly, he was sure he was better than him by a few parsecs anyway –

"Gentlemen, please calm down," Lt. Tanbris interrupted before their argument could turn into something nastier. "We are on a warship, not in a cantina. Ensign Phennir, I believe you are soon to be on patrol. I highly suggest you acquaint your wing mate with the work before the both of you take off."

Phennir's expression darkened, but he uncrossed his arms and looked back at Lt. Tanbris.

"Yes, sir," he said with strained politeness, before turning once more to Luke. "Come, FNG. Let's show you how things go around here. By the way, name's Chaser."

Before Luke could react, he stormed off. The young man gritted his teeth in irritation, hurrying to catch up with him.

"Here's where we debrief, here's where we have time off, and here's where we bunk," Chaser gestured around him. Luke was certain he could never recognise all these similar doors on his own. "And here's your locker. Put your stuff in here quick, we've got a tight schedule."

Luke only had time to lock his things up. Chaser was already going away, leaving him behind in the dull corridors.

"Hey!" Luke protested. He hurried to run after Chaser, and threw his squadmate a glare when he arrived at his level. "You know, you're supposed to show me around, not drag me!"

Chaser gave him a feral grin, all white teeth and thick eyebrows, which infuriated Luke even further.

"Too bad if you don't like it, FNG. That's how it is."

"I'll show you how it is when we get in space," Luke replied, fuming. What a stroke of luck, to be paired with such an arrogant moron! But he had another thing coming, if he thought Luke would let himself be treated that way. This was the job of his dreams and he wouldn't let anyone ruin it for him.

He was about to let him know exactly how he felt when he noticed the huge smirk on Chaser's face. He frowned, realising the other was baiting him, and he was falling for it hook, line and sinker. He pinched his lips and forced himself to calm down.

"The call sign is kinda lame, too," he drawled. "Calling new squad mates Flying New Guys was old style decades ago. When did you graduate the Academy, during the Clone Wars?"

This time, Chaser was the one to glare at him, although the corner of his lips hitched. Luke couldn't repress his grin.

"You find yourself funny, youngster," Chaser retorted. "But you'd better watch your mouth until we find you a proper name, because "Scrawny" would fit you like a glove."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"If that's the squad's naming habits, I'm surprised you escaped Brainless Brawns."

Chaser let out a howling laugh.

"You've got a sharp tongue, if nothing else," he said, before sobering. "Not something you should display too much around Black Leader."

Luke shrugged, but inside his guts a stone had dropped. That would be a bad idea indeed...

"Your Black Leader doesn't scare me any more than you do," he bragged anyway. It was out of the question that he let Chaser see his unease.

Chaser threw him an incredulous glance.

"You don't even know who he is, do you? Or are you just completely daft?"

"Of course I know who he is," Luke snapped, on the defensive. "Everybody knows about Black Squadron's leader."

He had been floored when he had received his posting. He'd had to reread the document three times before it started registering in his mind, and Biggs had opened wide eyes when Luke had shown it to him. Even now, he was still reeling about it, how an eighteen-year-old cadet like him with no flight experience got assigned to one the most elite squadrons of the Empire. He wasn't sure if he should be elated or worried.

"And you'd get smart with Lord Vader?"

Chaser looked positively astonished now. At the name, Luke felt the familiar twinge of fear move in his guts again.

"No," Luke shrugged, "just like I wouldn't get smart with any superior officer."

That may or may not have been a bald-faced lie, but Luke didn't even think about it. He was too busy wondering once again how in the nine Corellian Hells he had managed to get assigned to Darth Vader's personal squadron. The black cyborg was so well known Luke had heard of him even on his backwater desert planet, and the stories had been even wilder at the Academy. No one knew whether he was human, droid, or even some kind of bloodthirsty alien. He had supposedly wiped out all Jedi from the Empire using the same wicked powers as they did, and a single gesture of his hand was enough to send you to the ground, dead.

Needless to say, Luke didn't exactly feel comfortable with it, but he wasn't used to showing his weaknesses to others, either.

Chaser came in front of Luke, preventing him from walking further.

"Listen, kid," he said. "I don't think you realise what you've signed up for. You don't want to get on Lord Vader's wrong side. He doesn't fly with us all that often, with all his other duties, but when he does you better fall in line. He's strict. He's demanding. He doesn't tolerate mistakes. There's a reason we're only the best of the best here."

Luke's face hardened.

"And you think I'm not good enough."

"It's not a question of good enough," Chaser retorted, waving to emphasise his point. "Listen, I don't care if you were the first of your class. Grades mean nothing here. You're not going to last a week with that attitude. You should file for transfer as soon as you can. It won't end well."

Luke glared at him.

"You don't know me," he slowly said. "I appreciate the concern, but I was assigned here, this is where I need to be and neither you nor I got anything to say about it."

Chaser looked at him for a moment more, then raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he said. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

Luke didn't answer, annoyed at the knot that had tied itself in his guts despite his bold words. This was ridiculous. He could fly just fine. There was no reason he would get any problem with his commanding officer. He'd just do his job as best as he could, and everything would be all right...

"C'mon," Chaser's voice tore him from his thoughts. "We got to get you a flight suit."

He headed off ahead of Luke again, and Luke made a point of walking at his side. This time, his squadmate had the decency to slow down enough for him to catch up.

They entered a big room, full of lockers with pilots designations written on them. Luke followed Chaser between the rows to the back of the room. There stood a large rail where hung many flight suits. They came in different sizes, but were otherwise all identical, black with the Imperial crest on their sleeve. Chaser pressed a button that made the hangers rotate on the rail, then unhook a suit and flung it at Luke.

"Try that on, it's the smallest we have. Gloves and boots are in the cupboard," he said. He pressed another button, and the bottom of the device opened, revealing helmets and oxygen tanks. He then went to the lockers of the farthest row on the left, and opened one.

"When you come back, you put it back here," he said, taking out his own suit, gloves, boots and helmet. "Your flight designation should be on your locker's door. What is it, by the way?"

"Black Five," Luke replied, remembering the content of his orders sheet. A shiver of excitement ran through him again.

Chaser nodded, then took off his uniform jacket and donned his gear with fluid and practised movements.

Luke hurried to imitate him. As much as he hated to admit it, the small suit was the right size. He managed to find a pair of pristine gloves and shining boots as well, and was fiddling with the last fastenings of his tank when Chaser turned towards him.

"You ready?"

"You bet," Luke replied with enthusiasm.

Chaser flashed him a grin, then put his helmet on his head, clipping the oxygen tubes to it.

"Then let's get in the beasts."