Pilot of My Dreams [Porkins]

[Jerek Zenduu]

"How long are you thinking, Chief?"

The boy had to shout over the din of the hangar bay, so loud that it was housed in a building set apart from the Jedi Temple proper. It also ensured that returning starships wouldn't fly directly over the temple grounds on their approach, but that meant that by the time Jerek arrived at the hangar he was not in the mood to hear bad news. Unfortunately for him, the deck chief didn't care.

"Maybe a week," the Elomin replied, as if the estimate was just a casual remark in their conversation and not the death knell he'd just handed down. "I've got three other birds in worse condition than yours, and this meteor damage you picked up is forcing us to replace parts instead of repair."

The boy stood akimbo before his J-1 class interceptor, Unity, which had taken a beating during his last engagement. Yet that didn't mean he could simply take a week off while the hangar muddled through repairs. "There's a war on, Chief. I gotta get back up in the air."

Until then, the Elomin chief had been rather off-handed with the Jedi Padawan, as casual as they had ever been. The man wasn't entirely polite, but his personality wasn't as blisteringly rough as some of Jerek's temple masters. Now, the Elomin rounded on the boy, standing terrifyingly tall for his mere one and a half meter height. "Look, Jedi Zenduu. If I was standing here calling you Master Zenduu, then I would say, 'Yes, Master Zenduu,' and you'd move to the front of the line. But until then, if I say it's a week, it's a week."

Folding his arms over his small frame, Jerek looked pointedly at the suddenly-hostile figure before him. "And just what am I supposed to fly in the meantime?"

The chief backed away, shrugging his shoulders as he turned about, as if nothing had happened. Over his shoulder, he remarked, "There's always a few Republic ships lying around here."

"The practice ships?" Jerek cried, his voice rising as he did. Yet over the noise of the hangar bay, no one even turned to look, least not the Elomin chief facing away from him, who responded with another shrug and walked away. The blond-haired boy stared with an incredulous expression at the retreating figure, shaking his shaggy head in dismay. He was not looking forward to explaining this to Master Beck. So much for their Parlemian scouting run, there was no way he could keep up with a J-1 in an Republic beater. Another team would likely take their place in two days, sending them back in rotation for however long and...

Jerek let out a yell of frustration, turning to kick a crate nearest him with a loud bang. As he looked about, he saw eyes staring back at him, watching him. One by one, they blinked out, their focus back on the tasks at hand.

As the Jedi youth stumbled through the crowded hangar deck, wandering aimlessly to find something, some alternative to the unwieldy Republic starfighters to fly in the meantime. Mostly, though, he was just looking to kill time. Beck wouldn't expect him back until evening, and both Dash and Win-Tris were away from the temple at the moment. Without anything else to do, Jerek had been looking to make some practice maneuvers in the near space of Ossus, and had even cleared use of the practice run set at one of the Lagrange points.

The boy sighed, resigned to defeat as he trudged towards the exit. Not particularly caring where he was going, it was a small wonder he didn't run into more people. So it made some sense to his racing brain, once he had the wherewithal to think it, that he collided right into the back of some Republic pilot milling about the hangar. As Jerek picked himself up off the floor, and prepared to utter his apologies, he realized who the man before him was. "Hey, you're Lugus Porkins, aren't you?"

---

[member="Lugus Porkins"]

 

[Lugus Porkins]

Lugus worked on a different ship in the hangar replacing out some of the electrical wiring for a skysprint class courier. It wasn't a hard job just taxing on his chubby mitten hands. He was lost in thought for the most part. He was just starting to get back to work although he wasn't currently being placed on missions. Anytime he brought it up, he would have to put up with a run around. Even when his CO assigned him something to do the higher ups replaced him with a different pilot. He was starting to get sick of it. Everyone had the proof they need that neither Lugus or his sister were spies, but that didn't stop them from leaving him to work in the hangar instead of in space. His mood still suffered as well as his appetite. His stomach was a fat as ever but his face thinned. It was made even more obvious with the cut he gave his hair. Lugus jumped slightly. He didn't even hear the chief engineer behind him until the Elomin gave a deep frustrated sigh.

"Why do Jedi think we're just going to drop everything to fix their ships?"

Lugus paused to listen then went back to working, "It's not just the Jedi. Other pilots do it, too. I've never really had that problem."

"When you fix your own ship you don't usually," The man peeked at Lugus' work. "After that I need you to call and order some parts for a J-1."

"Can't," Lugus answered putting the panel back on the ship. He didn't care about upsetting the chief. The man wasn't his boss. "I've got something else to do."

"Where are you going?" The chief engineer checked the time. "The shift isn't over yet!"

Lugus exhaled, "I've been here since first shift."

With that, Lugus walked away. The Elomin didn't say another word - which was probably a good thing. Lugus was simply just an extra man to help with repairs. Did he have to do it? No. Did he enjoy doing it? Sometimes but most of the time no. If he had his choice he wouldn't leave a fighter. Truth be told Lugus knew more about engineering and repair than the chief did. He had a master degree and experience with an engineering company before joining the navy.

Lugus shook his head as he walked. He felt even more drained with every passing second. His 'something else to do' involved a YT-2000 he won in a game of Pazzak against a Bothan. It held the fitting name the Silent Stargazer. The paint job and design of the ship were far more beautiful than anything he could comprehend. Who would have thought to paint a ship like the colors of space? He planned to take her out for a quick spin since he hadn't flown many light freighters.

That was until he felt someone run into his back and then hit the ground. Lugus turned to look and saw a boy getting up off of the ground. From his robes he was an obvious Jedi, and oddly enough he knew who Lugus was. Maybe they met on the academy grounds? Lugus spent a bit of time there before. None so recently but he had his reasons for that.

Lugus managed a small smile, "You bet. Have we met? If we have, I'm sorry but I'm terrible with names."

[member="Jerek Zenduu"]

 

[Jerek Zenduu]

Normally, Jerek was not mean. Oh, sure, he traded jibes with his friends, insults with his rivals and smarted off to his master. Still, for an adolescent Human boy, that was bordering on downright polite! So it never occurred to the sandy-haired youth that he was crossing a line with the words that left his mouth.

He didn't know what exactly had prompted this new attitude. The boy knew that when he flew, his actions were certainly more aggressive than his typical behavior. Part of that, Jerek believed, was just the nature of the job. Firing laser bolts at hundred of meters per second, whose targets would either explode violently or suffer a brief, but horrifying, exposure to the unforgiving vacuum of space, that kind of definitive action required some level of disconnect, some way to rationalize the damage he and the other pilots of Green Squadron inflicted every time they suited up.

Yet another part wondered if his more forward nature in the cockpit was a result of something else. Namely, someone else. It was Elias, or rather his memory, that had prompted Jerek to fly in the first place. Something the padawan felt his twin brother would have very much enjoyed, and so taking on the role was something of a cathartic experience. A way to fill the void that losing Elias had left wide open.

So maybe it was a result of the fighter jockey suit he worse. Or perhaps a result of channeling his twin brother's persona when in and around the cockpit. Or this was simply some new level of teenage brattiness that had decided to reveal itself today. For whatever reason the words he spoke sounded nothing like anything he would ever say, yet Jerek heard them depart from his mouth in his voice, so it was up to him to deal with the fallout.

"Yeah, but everyone could pick out your fat ass from half a parsec away. Lugus Porkins, you're supposed to be the best pilot in the Republic. So how come we're losing this war so hard?"

---

[member="Lugus Porkins"]

 

[Lugus Porkins]

Lugus wasn't as steady as he could have been. If the boy had meet him before the suspension and the accusation of espionage, Lugus might have laughed at the kid for saying such a thing and told him he was getting to riled up over something that had too many variables... But no the words of the teenage boy hit Lugus like a ton of bricks. Best pilot in the republic, Lugus definitely was not. He had what he was good at but there was so much to it that one person couldn't claim to be the best at it all. No, Lugus wasn't the best, but they did seem to be losing the war.

His blood boiled at the thought. He wanted to be at the Battle of Ord Mirit. He would have been there if his sister hadn't defected from the Republic and had them gunning after him. He didn't want to be suspended. He tried to talk them into letting him back in a bird, but it didn't work. It still hasn't worked. He was left on the ground under a ship instead of in it. What difference would he have made? Maybe none. Maybe not.

Still in the moment, anger welled up inside him. His hand snatched at the boy's robes as his left hand came back and his knuckles launched forward at his face. That wasn't the end either. Repeatedly his hand made contact and retreated. He saw the young jedi's face bruised and broken. Maybe bloody as well.

No. His hand held the boy's robes but his other hand didn't reach up and load.It was just a sick twisted thought the broken man had. Instead, Lugus' eyes burrowed into the boy. He glared at him wanting to beat him and teach him a lesson. This wasn't how lessons should be taught however. Lugus knew this from his own childhood. How he would get cornered and pushed from bully to bully in a sick game. No, Lugus wouldn't be a bully.

His hand let go then smoothed his robes back down, "We're all hurting, son. Standing around bitching and wanting to do something about is what sets us apart."

[member="Jerek Zenduu"]