Ficathon Entry: Living Memory
Title: Living Memory
Characters: Wraith Squadron
Prompts: "We are so dead," Perfume, and AT-AT
Word Count: 1,052
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Warning: Un-Beta'd. Completely.
Summary: It's the Wraith's last night together.
Author Note: I had two ideas for this one. I wrote the silly one and had it beta'd. I forgot what my second idea was and then during church today I came up with a third idea, which I liked better than the silly one. This is un-beta'd so please forgive me any spelling/grammar errors.
This is for jean_c_pepper. If y'all want to read the silly one, I can post it after all the Fic-A-Thon fics have been posted :D
---
It was their last night as a squadron. In the morning Myn, Wes, and Wedge would be officially joining the Rogues while the others would be attending NRI orientation. Both Rogues and Wraiths had spent a great deal of time in the pilot's lounge after the ravaging of Zsinj's plans to obtain a second Super-Star Destroyer, reliving a play-by-play of what was sure to go down as the Battle of Kuat. Rogues asked repeatedly to hear of the Hawkbats' schemes that had led to the eventual move against Zsinj with the crew of the Mon Remonda. The Mutiny of Irresponsibility - as Wedge's little vacation-on-the-job was lovingly known as amongst those who had participated - was talked about with gusto; wistful plans of making it a staple of any long space-faring mission were shared by the more opportunistic pilots.
All-in-all, the usual playful animosity between the Rogue and Wraiths was set aside for brief snatches of time during the evening, and Wedge had no qualms of joining in.
Once the party broke up due to the promise of an early morning and new missions, Wedge headed back to his bunk. He was about to change into pyjamas when he had received a short message from Face asking the CO to meet them in the hanger bay once everyone else on board had gone to bed. Wedge had to admit he was a little curious as to the nature of the summons, so it was with great anticipation that he wove his way through the field of X-Wings, their great bulk oddly comforting.
As he rounded the final craft and emerged into the wider space used as an official launch area, ten being snapped to attention and held a salute until Wedge came to a stop in front of them. Wedge regarded the men and women of Wraith Squadron for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips twitched into a tiny smile and he returned the salute. As they fell into parade rest, Wedge clasped his hands behind his back and tried to think of what to say; if Face had told him they'd be doing this, he'd have prepared a speech. As he had none, however, he tried to make something up on the fly, but words failed him.
Meeting each of their gazes, Wedge decided that simplest was best, and once he'd finished his visual circuit of the assembled pilots, he simply said, "Thank you."
Taking that as a cue, they reassembled into a loose, circular group, some grabbing crates to sit on, others opting for the floor or fold-up chairs stolen from a nearby office. Wes produced bottles of Whyren's and Halmad Prime, which were passed around liberally, no one really bothering with glasses. Slowly, the talk started, and each pilot had a chance to reminisce about their time being a Wraith, as well as the event that had led them to being chosen for the squadron in the first place. It didn't matter that they all knew these stories already, but it was nice to hear them again.
Wedge had to grin as random members would help complete details from someone else's tale, and he felt a familiar tightness of pride and emotion in his chest as he watched the interaction. If anyone had told Wedge he'd be sitting here someday with strangers from the bottom of every New Republic Military competence list who'd overcome differences and prejudices to become family, he would have told them they were crazy. But here they were, talking the way that Wedge and Wes often talked to other pilots they'd served with, when the New Republic was still the Rebel Alliance.
After the general discussion faded into companionable silence, the only real sounds coming from the passing of bottles and drinking, Kell - eyes focused on nothing in particular - asked, "Best kill."
All eyes turned to him, some expressions askance, others narrowed in suspicion. Dia was the one who actually responded, "...What?"
Kell shrugged. "Which of us, past or present, had the best kill?"
"Oh," Dia intoned, dropping her gaze into thoughtful speculation. "Um..."
"Piggy's shot-in-a-million on the Night Caller," Myn said, clapping the Gamorrean on the back with affection. "Best deception."
"Tie between Lara's playing us and Face's Captain Darillian impersonation," Dia said, giving Myn a sad but kind smile, and tossing a wink in Face's direction. Face saluted her with a half-empty bottle of Halmad Prime and took a swig before passing it to Myn. With a grin, Dia continued the game, "Best prank."
"My ass being turned into Ewok chow," Janson replied with a pout as he shot Wedge a dirty look.
Wedge accepted a bottle of Whyren's from Runt and raised it in a mock toast. "Yub yub, lieutenant."
"I will get you back for that. Just so you know," Wes promised, before dropping the subject. "Famous last words."
Shalla flashed a wry grin. "That would be me, with we are so dead. Strongest memory."
"Falynn's perfume," Wedge said, startling even himself with the reply. He flushed a bit, covering with a muttered, "reminded me of my mom's," followed by another swig of alcohol. "Best slicing job."
"Tied between anything that Grinder did and Castin's idiocy," Runt stated matter-of-factly. "Best welcoming speech for a newcomer."
"Face and Phanan's interrogation of Dia," Piggy said. "Oddest belonging left behind."
"Phanan," Face said. He smiled as everyone waited for him to elaborate. "You all think I'm going to say his glass prowler, but you'd be wrong. " Face shook his head, still grinning. "Toy AT-AT. Had a flimsiplast speech-bubble glued to it saying ‘Pew! Pew!'"
As they all dissolved into laughter, Wedge smiled. He had no idea where the future would bring them, but he knew that no one wished for this moment to drag into forever more than he did. And while the game of acknowledging the Wraith's accomplishments, triumphs, and trials tried valiantly to grant him that wish by lasting well into the early hours of the next day, Wedge also knew that all things had to come to an end. While it wasn't an official end of Wraith Squadron, it was the end of an era; the galaxy had been rocked to the core by two of Wedge's squadrons, and now they each would go their separate ways.
Characters: Wraith Squadron
Prompts: "We are so dead," Perfume, and AT-AT
Word Count: 1,052
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Warning: Un-Beta'd. Completely.
Summary: It's the Wraith's last night together.
Author Note: I had two ideas for this one. I wrote the silly one and had it beta'd. I forgot what my second idea was and then during church today I came up with a third idea, which I liked better than the silly one. This is un-beta'd so please forgive me any spelling/grammar errors.
This is for jean_c_pepper. If y'all want to read the silly one, I can post it after all the Fic-A-Thon fics have been posted :D
---
It was their last night as a squadron. In the morning Myn, Wes, and Wedge would be officially joining the Rogues while the others would be attending NRI orientation. Both Rogues and Wraiths had spent a great deal of time in the pilot's lounge after the ravaging of Zsinj's plans to obtain a second Super-Star Destroyer, reliving a play-by-play of what was sure to go down as the Battle of Kuat. Rogues asked repeatedly to hear of the Hawkbats' schemes that had led to the eventual move against Zsinj with the crew of the Mon Remonda. The Mutiny of Irresponsibility - as Wedge's little vacation-on-the-job was lovingly known as amongst those who had participated - was talked about with gusto; wistful plans of making it a staple of any long space-faring mission were shared by the more opportunistic pilots.
All-in-all, the usual playful animosity between the Rogue and Wraiths was set aside for brief snatches of time during the evening, and Wedge had no qualms of joining in.
Once the party broke up due to the promise of an early morning and new missions, Wedge headed back to his bunk. He was about to change into pyjamas when he had received a short message from Face asking the CO to meet them in the hanger bay once everyone else on board had gone to bed. Wedge had to admit he was a little curious as to the nature of the summons, so it was with great anticipation that he wove his way through the field of X-Wings, their great bulk oddly comforting.
As he rounded the final craft and emerged into the wider space used as an official launch area, ten being snapped to attention and held a salute until Wedge came to a stop in front of them. Wedge regarded the men and women of Wraith Squadron for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips twitched into a tiny smile and he returned the salute. As they fell into parade rest, Wedge clasped his hands behind his back and tried to think of what to say; if Face had told him they'd be doing this, he'd have prepared a speech. As he had none, however, he tried to make something up on the fly, but words failed him.
Meeting each of their gazes, Wedge decided that simplest was best, and once he'd finished his visual circuit of the assembled pilots, he simply said, "Thank you."
Taking that as a cue, they reassembled into a loose, circular group, some grabbing crates to sit on, others opting for the floor or fold-up chairs stolen from a nearby office. Wes produced bottles of Whyren's and Halmad Prime, which were passed around liberally, no one really bothering with glasses. Slowly, the talk started, and each pilot had a chance to reminisce about their time being a Wraith, as well as the event that had led them to being chosen for the squadron in the first place. It didn't matter that they all knew these stories already, but it was nice to hear them again.
Wedge had to grin as random members would help complete details from someone else's tale, and he felt a familiar tightness of pride and emotion in his chest as he watched the interaction. If anyone had told Wedge he'd be sitting here someday with strangers from the bottom of every New Republic Military competence list who'd overcome differences and prejudices to become family, he would have told them they were crazy. But here they were, talking the way that Wedge and Wes often talked to other pilots they'd served with, when the New Republic was still the Rebel Alliance.
After the general discussion faded into companionable silence, the only real sounds coming from the passing of bottles and drinking, Kell - eyes focused on nothing in particular - asked, "Best kill."
All eyes turned to him, some expressions askance, others narrowed in suspicion. Dia was the one who actually responded, "...What?"
Kell shrugged. "Which of us, past or present, had the best kill?"
"Oh," Dia intoned, dropping her gaze into thoughtful speculation. "Um..."
"Piggy's shot-in-a-million on the Night Caller," Myn said, clapping the Gamorrean on the back with affection. "Best deception."
"Tie between Lara's playing us and Face's Captain Darillian impersonation," Dia said, giving Myn a sad but kind smile, and tossing a wink in Face's direction. Face saluted her with a half-empty bottle of Halmad Prime and took a swig before passing it to Myn. With a grin, Dia continued the game, "Best prank."
"My ass being turned into Ewok chow," Janson replied with a pout as he shot Wedge a dirty look.
Wedge accepted a bottle of Whyren's from Runt and raised it in a mock toast. "Yub yub, lieutenant."
"I will get you back for that. Just so you know," Wes promised, before dropping the subject. "Famous last words."
Shalla flashed a wry grin. "That would be me, with we are so dead. Strongest memory."
"Falynn's perfume," Wedge said, startling even himself with the reply. He flushed a bit, covering with a muttered, "reminded me of my mom's," followed by another swig of alcohol. "Best slicing job."
"Tied between anything that Grinder did and Castin's idiocy," Runt stated matter-of-factly. "Best welcoming speech for a newcomer."
"Face and Phanan's interrogation of Dia," Piggy said. "Oddest belonging left behind."
"Phanan," Face said. He smiled as everyone waited for him to elaborate. "You all think I'm going to say his glass prowler, but you'd be wrong. " Face shook his head, still grinning. "Toy AT-AT. Had a flimsiplast speech-bubble glued to it saying ‘Pew! Pew!'"
As they all dissolved into laughter, Wedge smiled. He had no idea where the future would bring them, but he knew that no one wished for this moment to drag into forever more than he did. And while the game of acknowledging the Wraith's accomplishments, triumphs, and trials tried valiantly to grant him that wish by lasting well into the early hours of the next day, Wedge also knew that all things had to come to an end. While it wasn't an official end of Wraith Squadron, it was the end of an era; the galaxy had been rocked to the core by two of Wedge's squadrons, and now they each would go their separate ways.