Star Wars: Immortal Devotion - Short Stories (Character Intros/One Shots)

"Vermillion Wings" (Part 3)

He hoped that he could take his supper over to the tavern before it became too packed, and spend the rest of his evening listening to the stories told by the exotic transport pilots waiting for their ships to be filled or offloaded.

Maybe he could even hear about the state of the rebellion in the rest of the galaxy, or if it had even reached the level of conflict to deem it a civil war on any other worlds.

As he carried his meal tray and coffiene cup into the pub, he noticed a new group of pilots seated at the far end of the bar. His bunkmate was already deep in discussion with a few of them, and he motioned to Tip, who was scanned the room for an empty seat.

Tip shook his head in declination, and opted for a booth in the corner. However, his friend quickly made his way over to Tip's table to let him in on what's he was doing.

"What'd they say about the war?" Tip asked the younger Ishi Tib.

"Who?" he replied with a wide grin on his face.

"The guys over there that you were just talking to."

"Oh, no," Tip's bunkmate said waving his hands, "they don't care anything about the Empire. They're a couple of smugglers who are stranded here. Apparently their old pilot just passed away... and they're looking for a new one."

"And?" Tip asked chomping down on a spoonful of processed rations.

"And, Tip, you're the best di'kut pilot in this whole mining complex! This is the perfect opportunity for you!"

"I don't know, I think I'm comfortable here," Tip said as he leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his fifth coffiene of the day. But he felt a slight tickle in his ankle. The same one he had felt every night before, when the dune grass blew against his leg, right before he transformed and took flight.

"C'mon," his friend prodded, "just come see what they have to say. I made sure to play your skills up, not that they needed to be, but they're very interested in meeting you."

Before he could protest again, Tip found his body instinctively sliding out of the booth, and he reluctantly got up and walked over to the group of smugglers, coffiene still in hand.

The man who greeted him and introduced himself as the captain of the group was very welcoming and charismatic. No wonder his friend had been instantly drawn to them among the crowd of other colorful pilots and alien crews.

But as Tip began to converse with the man, he saw something. Something in his eye. A look... no, an emotion. One he had only seen so raw and pure once before. He swore it was the same anger that brewed inside Leiutenant Luffman, but this time it was masked behind a smile. And Tip didn't know which was scarier.

His friend laughed, startling him from his observations and instinctive small talk, and patted Tip on the back before leaning in. "Tip, we've always dreamed of this. Any one of us here would give an arm to be in the situation you're in. Take the offer, for all of us."

Tip sighed and looked at the men in front of him, "if you really want me to be your pilot, I have one condition. As long as I am not forced to hurt or kill anyone, I suppose I'm in."

The captain, a human who had introduced himself as Oram Cale or something along those lines, turned and looked at the two Nikto on his left and they all burst out in laughter. "I'd never make you do something like that, friend. If that's all you want, then it looks like we have ourselves a deal."

Tip's beak turned up in a smile as the two men firmly shook hands, and he felt a wave of something he could only describe as overwhelming relief rush through his body. He didn't love it here in the mines, but he didn't hate it either. Or so he thought. But now that he was leaving, he couldn't imagine staying here another single forsaken day.

However, the look in the captain's eyes still lingered in the back of Tip's mind like a small impurity found in a priceless gemstone, but he tried to dismiss it. Surely it was just because he was tired, or paranoid, or maybe he was simply seeing his own emotions reflecting in the mans pupils. He was eventually going to be wrong about someone, so maybe that eventuality was today.

The captain told Tip to go pack his things immediately, and to not worry about informing the site supervisor. He would handle that while his new pilot prepared to leave. Cale said they were on a tight schedule, and he was on his way to eliminate someone who was a great injustice to the galaxy.

Tip wondered if they were secretly bounty hunters, or maybe disguised members of the Outer Rim Marshalls. But those speculations would have to wait, because he needed to gather his few belongings and make it back to his new ship before they grew impatient.

In only a few minutes, he had packed his bag and was making his way back towards the suspended landing pad where the crew's old Exten-class vessel was waiting. "Welcome aboard," Cale said smiling, as he ushered his new pilot towards the cockpit. "Tonight is your first step towards freedom. How does it feel, Tip?"

"Amazing," Tip said taking in a deep breath, smelling the stale air of the ship that was going to serve as his new home for quite some time. "It feels amazing."

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"Tonight was the first night in over a year where I did not dream. Not so much as a vision or feeling. Nothing. My sleep was still as restless as ever, but I did not dream of looking down at the dunes from high above Tibrin. I did not dream of soaring with an assortment of brilliant avians. And I did not see the shimmering lake. I fear I will never learn the truth of what secrets that mysterious pool held. But as long as I learn about all of the secrets and wonders the galaxy has to offer, I don't much mind. I am free now. And I am soaring through the skies. And I should be happy... but I feel a lingering dread. I attempt to blame it on my own uncertainties and fears of the unknown, but I have never felt this before. Something is going to happen soon, whether good or bad, and I can only hope I live to see the other side. These thoughts are the privileges that come with being liberated. Oh, if only the miners back home could see me now."

Tip tucked his journal under the pilot's seat and placed his hands back on the steering yoke. Since their hyperdrive was shot, Tip was currently flying them on a one week long journey towards the Veora System. What awaited them there was beyond Tip, but he cherished every breath, and he studied every star. He finally had a purpose in the galaxy. He could finally fly above the crevices and coral cities that dotted the Tibrin landscape.

His dream had finally come to fruition, and he would fly until he found his shimmering destination.