Castaway - Part 1:
The twin ion engines stuttered, with one of the maneuvering jets winking out completely, causing the TIE fighter to begin an uncontrollable, downward spiral, towards the planet's surface. Bobby Nezan was experiencing every pilot's worse nightmare as he braced himself for a crash landing. This was not his first battle, but having only graduated from the Imperial Flight School the year before, he was still considered a rookie by TIE pilot standards. Despite this, he kept a somewhat calm composure as he hit the eject button under his seat, sending him shooting out of the cockpit before the whole craft crashed to the wet, sandy ground below.
Scarif. What a pretty planet for the setting of such a gruesome battle, thought Bobby as he awkwardly landed on the beach near his half submerged fighter. He unhooked his parachute and gingerly approached the craft for fear of a sudden explosion, but none came. Limping slightly on a twisted ankle, the pilot examined both engines, noting the fried thrusters, but stable fuel tank and came to the conclusion that the craft was in no danger of deadly combustion. However, after he ran the standard full diagnostic of the wreck, he also realized the TIE was totaled. It would never fly again.
Silently cursing the rebel scum who had done the damage, Bobby hopped into the cockpit and reached for the comm, only to find that it had been reduced to junk as well. Then the ever calm and collected Imperial, began to seriously panic as he realized that in the heat of the battle, he had drifted far from the intelligence base, he had been sent to protect, and that he now had no way of communicating with the rest of his squadron. Of all the hundreds of beachy islands on Scarif, he would die of starvation before they ever found him, if they even bothered to look... The ear splitting sound of an explosion shook him from his thoughts, as he glanced up at the Death Star in the barely visible distance.
- To Be Continued-