The Worst Jobs in the Galaxy - Interceptor Pilot

David's Interceptor spun and weaved through the Terrorfiend's battle fleet as he nimbly evaded the fire from the pursuing Terrorfiend attack ships. He deftly adjusted power distribution and checked his ordinance. The command ship came into view.

"Death to the alien!" squawked a Terrorfiend over the comm. David ignored them, concentrating on setting up a firing solution. "We will destroy you!" continued the Terrorfiend.

A trill from the console indicated a successful lock. David fired, and the brace of torpedoes raced towards the ship and detonated, inflicting catastrophic damage. Secondary explosions began to tear the ship apart as David piloted the Interceptor away.

The words Mission Successful illuminated the screen. Lights came on and David removed his headset. He was about to reach for his drink when he heard a polite cough behind him. David turned and saw that it was Angela, his team leader.

"Meet me in my office in five," Angela said brusquely before leaving.

David sighed and mentally prepared himself for another grilling.


Five minutes later David was seated in Angela's office. Angela steepled her hands and looked over them.

"Can you describe what you did wrong out there?" she said.

David reviewed the mock battle in his head, "Um, I won?"

Angela pursed her lips, "Worse, you won too easily. Your interceptor casually destroyed a Terrorfiend Gorefist class Carrier. Look at these," said Angela as she pushed a pad showing an ever-increasing list of messages complaining about the unfairness of the simulated contest, accusations of cheating and that the simulations intentionally underrepresented the true state of Terrorfiend weaponry. "That battle was witnessed by half of Bombasia's population. Some of their best pilots and commanders were representing them. How do we explain that you casually destroyed their fleet with a single ship?"

"That they're even more rubbish than the average eatee? How is it my fault that they left themselves wide open and can't design their warships properly? They're just a pack of complete noobs." said David.

It had come as a bit of surprise to Humanity that the highly civilised and peaceful intelligent species of the Galaxy were particularly inept at anything resembling a strategy. On reflection, it wasn't so much. With every star system holding essentially unlimited resources and living space there was nothing to fight over. The various eatees squabbled and bickered, but never came to blows. Then the Bombasian Terrorfiends had exploded onto the scene. Literally. The Terrorfiends lost six entire fleets of warships to miss-jumps, accidents and simply poor design as the Galaxy watched helplessly as the insane beings destroyed themselves. It had been a diplomatic coup to suggest that they engage in simulated conflict. The Galaxy's only war was a balancing act of satiating the Terrorfiend's lust for conflict without appearing too weak or strong.
Trouble was, very few aliens liked even simulated conflict. It wasn't something, important. So, like many dull, menial jobs it had been picked up by Humanity.

"Complete noobs?" said Angela.

"Well, they are," replied David.

"Might I remind you that those complete noobs may decide to go back to building real ships and declaring real war? Do you want a repeat of the Camphor campaign, all over again?"

One of the last actions of the Terrorfiends had seen them miss-jump to Camphor IV, identifying a resort as a military base and launch an orbital nuclear strike on the resort. Fortunately, it had been offseason and the only casualties were the maintenance robots and half the Terrorfiend crew starving as their ships drifted out of fuel before they could be rescued.

"No," mumbled David.

"I didn't hear you," said Angela.

"No. I'll try to fight more on their level. Say, how about tieing one arm behind my back?" said David.

Angela brightened, "Now that is more like it," she retrieved her pad and made some notes, "Hmm, I like this suggestion. Let's see if we can implement it. Any other contributions?"

David shook his head.

"Well then, this has been most productive. Next battle is in thirty minutes and I'll see to getting you some straps for your arm," said Angela.


"Your end is at hand!" screamed the Terrorfiend over the comm.

With his right arm restrained, David struggled to control the interceptor craft. He watched as the Terrorfiend defensive globe separated again leaving several inviting attack vectors open. Struggling, he manoeuvred the ship towards the gap.

"What do you think you are doing?" yelled Angela from behind him.

David turned around, "Fighting badly as you said to," he replied.

"Death to the unbelievers!" screamed the Terrorfiend.

"Stop evading, let them land a hit," said Angela.

"I'm not evading, these idiots have never heard of leading the target," pointed out David.

"Well, try flying into their fire or something," suggested Angela.

David raised his hand, "There, I'm not even controlling the ship, it's travelling in a straight line. All those twerps have to do is line up right behind me and fire. Even they can't..." David said but was interrupted by the simulator.

"Collision warning," it said right before the interceptor slammed into the bridge of the Terrorfiend command ship that for some reason had not been shielded. "Enemy command ship destroyed. Mission successful." it continued, noting that at least this time the defenders had lost a single interceptor.

"My office. Now," said Angela.

David untied himself and followed her.