one day, i will pack up at the end of a term/semester without finding some random abandoned piece of fanfiction in a notebook that's supposed to be just for schoolwork. i must have written this in november or something:
He doesn't like this, in a war. He's never liked this, even when their worst enemies were undisciplined pirates -- but not in a war.
Every week, Gavin Darklighter loses a pilot in another battle against the Yuuzhan Vong (but they always lose more, oh, the scarheads always lose more, these are still the Rogues after all). And ever week, he gets another pilot fresh out of the Academy, or a year or so shy of completing their course, their education having been interrupted by this blasted war; or sometimes, one who hasn't been at all.
It wouldn't be so bad, really, if they'd at least seen some sort of combat anyway, something more substantial than a simulation or a hologame or a bar fight. But they haven't, they haven't, because a year ago there wasn't any combat to see. (It's awful, he thinks, to curse peace time, so he doesn't. But he'd like to: it took away their edge, sent his squadmates into early retirement, made them all complacent.)