And, after a long dedicated service to the fleet, being one of the best viper pilots in it, he was advancing rather fast.
After a series of good performances in various battles, one day he was called to the admiral's office on one of the battlestars.
"Sir, you wanted to see me.."
"Take a seat lad.."
"So, may I know what this is about, sir?"
"Well LT JG, word has gotten to me about your splendid performances in the last month. And I wish to recognize your efforts.."
The admiral took a little box from his desk, and asked Alexander to stand up and step forward.
He pinned the little signs of rank on his uniform, while Alexander was overwhelmed with a sense of achievement.
"There, "Lieutenant", congratulations. I will make this official tomorrow, I just wanted to give you a heads up."
"Thank you sir, this means a lot to me."
"Dismissed Lieutenant, you may go about your business.."
LT Swift salutes vigorously, then leaves the admiral's quarters.
<span style="font-familyalatino Linotype">
<span style="color:#000000">All morons hate it when you call them a moron.
The months flew past on end. Time was becoming more and more elusive, he got lost in it all. Fight after fight, mission after mission, risking his life every day and getting little or nothing in return.. it most certainly wasn't an easy and rewarding task to do, but it was his duty, and he had something inside him that drove him further and further, and he could not stop. He WOULD not stop.
He had no family, no permanent home. The Rubicon was his home, and the crew, his copilots, that was his family. And it was a close family indeed.
The feeling of someone always having your back was irreplaceable to Alexander.
All this came to his mind relatively recently, he'd not even thought of it this way before, and now he realized what it was exactly, what was driving him towards the things he did.
Soon it all became merely a game to him, a daily sport, going out 'hunting' with his wingmen.
It was a dangerous hunt however, where unfortunately, he was not always the hunter, but sometimes also the prey.
<span style="font-familyalatino Linotype">
<span style="color:#000000">All morons hate it when you call them a moron.
The word came in from the fleet high command, the Rubicon was being transferred to Tau 37 for guarding of the system from the Outcast threat.
This is it, Alex thought, now he was gonna see some proper action, and not just these occasional patrols and boring miner escort details.
Half the time being out on boring assignments, having to stay on Java station for days on end, with the lousy food and lousier company, it was starting to get to him, and this couldn't have come at a better time.
But he knew it'd not be without danger, the pirates were en mass in that system, and he was sure he'd have a hard time.
Good luck for him that he enjoyed having it difficult.
The whole pilot rec. room was buzzing with rumours of the sights in Tau 37, and the myriad of dangers it contained.
They were spreading like wildfire, and every viper jock out there was pretty damn excited he was gonna see some action.
Too bad most of them didn't yet know how 'action' mostly ends for the average pilot.
<span style="font-familyalatino Linotype">
<span style="color:#000000">All morons hate it when you call them a moron.
alatino Linotype">