Written 2002. I was 13...erm...so I blame my age for its poor quality.
Biggs Darklighter didn't enjoy fighting. He hated it as much as he hated the sand on his home planet. It always felt as though part of him was being torn away with his comrades as he watched their X-Wings boil into space. Each time this happened, his gut wrenched and he wished that the Empire had never seized the galaxy.
He had begun to wish he hadn't joint the Alliance.
He spared a quick glance at his controls, but gave them no thought. He was already beginning to feel pain in his chest even though they hadn't even come into contact with the enemy. But he could see the Death Star. Like a monster it loomed before him, the dent in the side almost leering.
Biggs laughed in defiance at it.
"You think you scare me?" he told the silent mass. "You won't have the pleasure."
And Luke...Biggs mused. Luke was too young for this, didn't know what he was getting into. Maybe he should have warned Skywalker before they each got into their X-Wings. Biggs was sure it didn't matter. Either him of Luke wouldn't be returning, that was for sure.
What a pointless Rebellion! They weren't going to win anyway!
Someone gave an order over the comlink. Biggs had no clue what it might have been, but locked his S-foils into attack position like everyone else. The Death Star came closer, closer...until all he could see was a titanic sphere leering at him.
And then Biggs couldn't think so freely. It was a struggle to move his X- Wing, to survive the rain of hell the enemy slashed back with.
Hell, thought Biggs, I'm not going to survive anyway.
He was impressed by Luke's ability to swerve, dip and turn - almost jealous, it seemed. Biggs realised that the fight was going to get harder. Already, Tie-fighters were crowding all possible space with their choking presence.
Concern coursed through him when he heard that Luke was going to fly the trench.
Poor kid. Biggs shook his head while flying to cover his friend. Darklighter looked around for enemy fighters. He didn't do this with nervousness - rather a calm non-caring way. He didn't care. Biggs turned forwards and studied Luke's X-Wing, the droid inside it, and imagined the look on the kid's face.
He didn't get the chance to go much further than that.
In a haze that blinded him, Biggs realised his X-Wing had no hope. In the split second he had before he crashed, he pictured himself face to face with the Death Star, leering back in defiance.
"You still don't have that pleasure," Biggs informed the Death Star coolly.
But then there was no more.