A pilot's life.

[col-smack-the-vong]

A pilot’s life

20 years. It had been a long time for me, Syren Lehngis. As the 50-year anniversary of the joint Battle of Endor approaches, it let my age show to my Clawcraft wing. They knew that I was born only 5 short years later, and that, in a fighter pilot world, is an eternity. Some of my men are impressed, wanting to make an impression on me. The rest... well, they think an “old bantha” like me shouldn’t be a pilot.
Oh, wait ‘till they see me work...

[col-smack-the-vong]

At the young age of 17, I inherited my father’s diner on Corellia, the Sweet Rose. After about 2 years, that calling that had been in my head since I was born, that urge to fly, must be quenched. I went to the Empire. I had seen a “Clawcraft” when I was young, and I know that if I was to ever fly, it must be in one of those beautiful craft.
As I clamored out of my transport, 2 years later, at the Imperial Drive Yards, I was amazed. I knew that I was here to accept my ship. The men were pleasant as they watched a 25 year-old military man be turned into a child by their newest creation. “Can a captain get a bit of privacy with his new ship?” “Get her in the air, sir, and you’ll have her all to your own!”
So many years ago... 4 ships and 431 kills later... a long time. I was an ace a dozen times over, and I wanted to sit there and tell my men that the colonel before them was a lonely old bachelor. But to the 71 men in front of me, it was as if I was married to my ship. It was a necessity, keeping me alive and kicking, no killing... for years.
“Men, ATTENTION! (mmmmm, snappy. good.) Thank you, as you were.” I spent a few minutes explaining myself, my operations, and my attitude. “Grand Admiral Desaria has graciously endowed this command on my shoulders, and we’re gonna make him proud; RIGHT MEN?” “YES SIR!” “Thank you, gentlemen!”

[col-smack-the-vong]

As they replied with all the decorum and enthusiasm expected and instilled in the Sovereignty’s best pilots, I recalled my father’s bearing and my childhood on Corellia. Years spent in my his diner watching and learning, nights spent looking for Centerpoint, a gleaming speck in Corellia’s sky. My mother had died when I was two, so my dad had instilled in me the values of a former Imperial Stormtrooper. That was his life, until Endor... It was hard for him, being looked-down on by everyone around the New Republic. It must have been hard... but he trained me well. Mercifully, he passed on before the Vong invaded. His death made me realize that until I had a solid path...
“Sir?” “Yes lieutenant?” “Sir, may I have a moment?” ...Too many veritable kids in this world, ready at their own whim to get ‘shot’ at by an enemy they don’t know and can’t see. Well, not much for it, you know?

[col-smack-the-vong]

I could live for a thousand years and never understand why kids would want to kill themselves, or even get shot at... well, I did the same thing, leaving home to join the Empire. A wholly good decision, but a lonely one. Even then, my loyalty stands with the Sovereignty and no other...