Solid Ground 

by Katie Zajdel
thumper [a] coronasquadron.com

All characters are mine, but the universe and all its toys belong to Lucasfilm. Also, many, many thanks go out to all the people who have helped me with this story, my characters and writing in general. That list is longer than normal for this story in particular, and if I were to name everyone individually I’d soon reach my time limit and someone would come and drag me offstage, but you know who you are, and I’m most appreciative of your help.

Chapter Fifteen

Quiver couldn’t fault their reasoning, but this was another detour, another delay, and he really just wanted to go back to the ship. He envied Pellicer, who had needed to land on Star to escape because his hyperdrive was out and then got to stay aboard. The plan was for another pilot to bring his fighter down to the planet for him when they arrived so that it too could share in the quarantine.

The three X-wings and the stolen transport started bumping through the atmosphere, heading to their designated landing spot. They softly settled to the ground soon after.

Corona Ten awkwardly powered down his X-wing with his off-hand and opened his canopy. The air rushing in was cold and smelled faintly of sulfur, causing him to shiver a bit and wrinkle his nose in distaste before heaving a sigh. He just sat there for a while, taking a long look all around at the sky and then blankly staring out ahead at the bleak landscape. The end of his flight made him feel like other things were coming to an end as well. While in hyperspace, Quiver had stared out his windows the entire time like he’d expected Darin to fly right up beside him and wave, but he hadn’t. The two Quakes who had been looking for him hadn’t found him before the Coronas jumped to hyperspace, and Crescent Star hadn’t picked up anything either. Part of the plan was for Darin to transmit a code word over the squadron frequency right before he escaped the system so the others would know he’d gotten out, but they’d heard nothing from him since his distress call. The chances that Darin was still alive were fading with each passing minute.

This mission had cost Quiver his two best friends in the galaxy. He’d experienced the loss of squadmates before, but never anything like this. It hurt like hell, and Quiver didn’t know how to make the pain stop or if it ever would. He’d had a little bit of time to prepare himself for losing Darin, which had helped a tiny bit, but CC’s death was still a mind-numbing shock to him.

Saying goodbye to her had been the hardest thing he ever remembered doing. Back on Lokinha, Quiver had begun flying to orbit with Ikoa when he had caught sight of the crater where CC’s fighter had been, and the entire world stopped. He remembered feeling like a dewback had barreled into him at full speed, but he didn’t remember pulling back his power and descending to a floating stop at the edge of the area. The crater might as well have had a tractor beam on him for all the control it had.

It had taken more than a few calls on Ikoa’s part before Quiver had realized there was a voice talking to him. Even then, he hadn’t cared what the voice said; all he could do was stare at the crater, its deep shadows in the night making a black void in the ground that matched the one inside him. He almost turned on his exterior landing lights to illuminate it and chase the shadows away, but he figured that would just be worse.

Quiver suspected he would have stayed that way for hours had not something else caught his attention in his peripheral vision and made him look up distractedly. At first he’d thought it was a reflection of the scope’s blue dot up on his canopy window, but looking closer, he had noticed the stars had begun to come out and he was actually looking at a bluish star that was part of a somewhat familiar constellation. Quiver had blinked back sudden tears as he remembered the star was the one that Darin had pointed out to CC as her home system of Avalar during their stargazing session just two nights ago. It looked so peaceful, twinkling up there. He’d wondered if it had seen the atrocities there on that world from its vantage point high in the sky. He’d wondered how far away it was, how long it would be before the leftover light from those blaster bolts in her cockpit reached it.

That, more than anything else, finally convinced him he had to go. He had needed to get away from there, far enough so that he could look up into the starlight and see his friend reflected in it, alive and well once more.

When Quiver had looked back down, though, he almost couldn’t do it. His throat had tightened to the point where it was difficult to breathe. Finally, in a wavering, unrecognizable voice that was somewhere between angry and pleading, he’d said, “This is not the way it’s supposed to end.” Quiver wasn’t sure if the galaxy had heard him or not.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he’d wiped at his eyes and choked out past the lump in his throat, “Bye, Chryse. I’m sorry.” After one second more, he’d angrily jammed in his throttle and peeled off, with a very surprised Ikoa turning to follow.

And that had been it. Now Quiver found himself here on this quarantine planet, safe with everyone else but facing two memorial services he’d hoped never to attend. “Damage control,” CC had said.” Quarantine.” Except instead of for Darin, it was without Darin. And without CC. With a sigh, Quiver unenergetically unfastened his seat restraints one-handed and climbed to the ground.

The surviving Coronas all disembarked from the stolen transport and waited beside it, where Quiver, Weas and Ikoa silently joined them. Some offered small, disbelieving grins to each other as they began to realize the ordeal was truly finally over, but that and the obvious relief to be away from Lokinha that all of them shared couldn’t completely cut through the general feeling of gloom and depression at what the mission and their escape had cost.

A short time later, the medium-sized shuttle recognizable as Starsmoke approached the landing site. Flying beside it was an X-wing painted in Corona Squadron colors, a grey base and a red stripe with black borders. Upon seeing it, Quiver instantly thought it was Darin, but as it got closer he saw it was actually Pellicer’s X-wing, and Quiver’s hopes were dashed hard against the rocks after being brought up.

The two ships landed, and Lt. Kammaror, one of the Y-wing pilots from Quake Squadron, powered down the X-wing and climbed out. He walked over to the Coronas and somberly said, “Hey, glad to see you guys. Must have been a rough time, going from the highlights Scoop quickly filled me in on. I’m sorry about the pilots you lost.”

He quietly talked to Mackin for another moment, and then he walked over to Starsmoke and went inside. A minute later, Kammaror called Mackin over his combadge and let him know they were ready to go. Mackin acknowledged the transmission and spoke to his subdued pilots. “Okay, Coronas, the shuttle’s ready for us. I’m sure you’re all ready to head back, get some medical treatment, hot food and sleep, right?”

They didn’t need to be told twice. With a newfound energy borne of relief and feelings of safety, they quickly walked toward the shuttle. As they neared it, however, the two pilots in the lead, Ikoa and Slurry, looked up and saw the red-haired man waiting for them at the top of Starsmoke’s side loading ramp. Lieutenant Colonel Adaic Trainneer actually looked pleased with himself, as if rescuing the bone-weary pilots, or at least coming down on the transport to greet them personally, was a good deed he had gone out of his way to do.

Slurry and Ikoa slowed their pace, which caused all the pilots behind them to do the same and notice what the first two had. By the time that limping Chopper and his crutch Kalre had caught up to the group with Mackin behind them bringing up the rear, Ikoa and Slurry had started moving forward again but with a much less enthusiastic step.

Upon seeing Trainneer standing at the top of the ramp, Quiver stopped dead in his tracks. He remained that way until Chopper and Kalre walked around him and Mackin gently pushed Quiver forward from behind. “Come on, Ten.”

Mackin couldn’t see Quiver’s face turning redder or his narrowed eyes shooting lasers at the Special Forces officer. He didn’t notice Quiver’s breathing quicken and couldn’t feel the lanky pilot’s heart rate increase. Quiver reluctantly stepped forward again toward the ramp and toward the man who had ordered their abandonment. That was the person who had refused to help CC–and she might still be alive if he’d assisted–and whose abandonment of the pilots ultimately caused Darin to be missing and almost certainly dead, though Quiver would never know for sure now, which just made it worse. He felt his hands ball into fists, and he clenched his jaw shut hard.

The others apparently felt the same way, though maybe not as acutely as Quiver did. As Ikoa and Slurry boarded the ramp and moved into the back of the shuttle, they pointedly ignored Trainneer at the top and brushed past him, never once even pretending to notice him or salute.

Trainneer got visibly more and more agitated at each blatant show of disrespect, and when Weas came aboard he pulled the pilot to a stop, which held up the line behind him. “Lieutenant, I strongly suggest your pilots show some respect. These are grounds for–” Trainneer stopped, appalled, as Weas’s brown eyes pierced him with an angry glare. The Coronas’ XO shook off Trainneer’s grip and silently continued past him as well.

Chopper hopped aboard with Kalre’s help, and Quiver followed them up the ramp with Mackin right behind. With each step closer Quiver’s heart raced faster from the bottled-up anger, especially after he noticed Trainneer now glaring at each pilot as they passed. Quiver slowed momentarily while Chopper and Kalre hobbled past Trainneer, and the SF officer’s attention then focused on Quiver on the ramp. Trainneer’s angry look plainly said that if he valued his future, this next pilot would be smart to show a little respect for a superior officer and therefore save himself from a lot of trouble down the road.

Quiver had had it. His only regret as he brought his arm back and punched Trainneer in the face was that since he’d separated his shoulder, he had to use his off-hand to punch and couldn’t get as much strength behind it as he could have otherwise.

He was instantly yanked backwards and was backpedaling off-balance down the loading ramp. Quiver stumbled as he hit level ground and was whirled around by the grip on the back of his flightsuit, then Mackin was between him and Trainneer.

The lieutenant colonel was so mad that the color of his face almost matched his hair. “What the hell are you doing?!” He stormed down the ramp toward the two pilots with his eyes boring into Quiver, who tried to maneuver himself out from behind Mackin for another confrontation. Mackin grabbed Quiver’s collar with his other hand, then pushed his pilot back some more as Trainneer approached. Ignoring his throbbing hand, Quiver was defiantly glaring back at Trainneer and was trembling with rage while Mackin held him in place with a death grip on his collar and flightsuit.

There was the sound of running footsteps behind Trainneer, and the other Coronas immediately appeared and skidded to a stop in the shuttle’s entranceway at the top of the ramp, crowding around the opening to see what was going to happen below them. The Coronas all watched Trainneer intently, the expressions on their dirty faces showing beyond a doubt that they were ready to instantly jump down and defend their fellow pilot if need be.

Trainneer stopped advancing, though his expression was no less angry. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!” he yelled at Quiver. “I’ll have you up on charges so fast you won’t know what hit you!”

“Apparently you don’t know, either,” Quiver muttered through his clenched jaw.

Mackin shoved Quiver back another step or two and turned to Trainneer. “Sir, I’m sorry. I’ll–”

“Commander,” Quiver interrupted with a hard edge to his voice while still glaring at Trainneer, “let me worry about this. I’ll handle it.”

Mackin gave him another shove, harder this time, and hissed, “You will not handle it, Flight Officer, do I make myself clear? I think you’ve done quite enough.”

“Not as much as he’s done.”

“Listen to me, Flight Officer,” Mackin warned in a very low voice. His dark blue eyes locked onto Quiver’s pale blue ones. “Not another word, understand?! Or I’ll step aside and let him ruin your career. You want to be the third pilot we’ve lost from this mission?”

Quiver felt like he’d just been slapped and decided to actually keep his mouth shut for once.

During Mackin’s private little chat with Quiver, Trainneer’s face had returned to its normal color except for where Quiver had hit him, but his eyes were still dangerous. When Mackin turned back to the Special Forces officer, Trainneer said to him, “I’ll be pressing charges, Commander: count on it. All of your pilots have been disrespectful here. All I’d expected was a little appreciation, and instead I got this. If your pilots aren’t on that shuttle in ten seconds, we’re lifting without them.” He spun on his heel and stalked up the ramp.

The Coronas jumped back to give him a wide berth as he passed them and turned the opposite way to the cockpit, then they cautiously looked back out at Mackin and Quiver. As they did so, no one said a word, and few dared to even breathe.

Mackin looked at them and quietly said, “Everyone get in your seats.” The Coronas quickly pulled back out of sight and retreated into the aft of the transport, exchanging glances as they did so. Quiver knew they were wondering whether it was safer to be out there with Mackin as angry as he was or to stay on the same ship as Trainneer.

The commander of Corona Squadron released his grip and turned to Quiver, who stood there and stared back unapologetically. “I thought you were smart enough to know that insanely stupid stunts like that do not improve situations, Flight Officer.” Mackin was so angry that his voice was almost inaudible, and Quiver had to strain to hear. “Now get onboard, sit there and do not say a word. We’ll discuss this more, a lot more, when we get back.”

“Yes, sir,” Quiver said, almost spitting the words out in his anger. He spun and stormed up the ramp with Mackin close on his heels. Mackin was so close, in fact, that he very nearly ran into Quiver when his subordinate suddenly stopped at the top of the ramp and jerked his head up, watching as three Rebel starfighters flew slowly overhead and circled to land. The one in front was missing a canopy window.

*****

Darin continued circling for a moment, gathering his nerve, then set up on a landing approach angling away from the other ships. He’d been told his fighter had to stay on the surface of this planet for a while, and it would be just his luck to have survived that dogfight but die in this crash landing in friendly territory. “Hang on!” he called to his droid. He started softly pleading with his X-wing to get them down in one piece. Botch started beeping insistently at him, but Darin silenced him by saying, “Not now, Botch. I have to concentrate.”

As he descended, the ground came up from below frighteningly fast. Darin reflexively braked hard, too hard, and wished for the thousandth time that his repulsors worked.

A sudden plunge in altitude and a few anxious overcorrections later, the belly of his X-wing hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact. It bounced up, hit again and started skidding over the grass. Botch squealed in alarm as Darin reversed the throttle and desperately tried to stop the runaway fighter.

It eventually slowed to a halt after spinning around to almost point back the way it had come and digging a little trench in the ground. Darin just sat there for a moment, not truly believing he was still alive after everything that had happened. A sharp blat from Botch snapped him out of it, and he hurriedly shut down his X-wing before something leaked and decided to explode. The only thing he kept powered was the console that allowed him to talk to Botch.

Darin removed the crate lids from his window, opened his canopy and put his helmet and gloves next to his heads-up display. Botch whistled at him in annoyance, to which Darin replied, “Hey, you try a gear-up, high-speed landing, and we can see how pretty you can make it. We’re still in one piece. That’s all that matters.”

Botch’s irate reply to that lit up the console screen in front of Darin. You didn’t have to land like that. I tried to tell you. Darkspeed could have used its tractor beam to set us down on the surface here.

That made Darin stop, and he stared unmoving at the screen for a long minute as the words sank in. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the capabilities of the fleet’s Bulk Cruiser. He must be more worn-out than he’d realized if it was affecting his mind that badly, and all at once his survival seemed that much more miraculous.

He sighed deeply, closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat’s headrest, saying, “You’re right. I’m an idiot. Sorry, I should have listened to you.” Darin straightened up in his seat again and then added, “Especially since you got me through that fight back there. I couldn’t have done it without you, Botch. Thanks.”

Beeping with pleasure at the compliment, Botch apparently felt forgiving of his pilot’s earlier error. Darin grinned, then affectionately patted the top of the forward console in his cockpit. “And that’s my good ship,” he whispered. “You did well too. We’ll get you all fixed up, don’t worry.”

Darin climbed out of the cockpit on weak legs and slipped to the ground in exhaustion, then sat back against his fighter’s hull to catch his breath. He also briskly rubbed his arms to warm them; personal magcon fields from a pilot’s emergency life support didn’t trap much heat, and even with the cockpit heater on its highest setting the whole time he was still shivering from his flight through hyperspace. He suspected if he hadn’t been able to mostly board up his canopy window and keep some heat in that he’d at best be suffering from hypothermia right now. Plus, the temperature on this planet wasn’t helping much, though it did feel warmer there than hyperspace had.

The two Y-wings had landed near his fighter, and the pilots and gunners powered down the fighters and climbed out.

“You okay, Thumper?” Lt. Connley, Quake Five, asked as the four of them approached. Darin nodded.

“Good. I bet solid ground feels good again, huh, kid?” the other asked with a smile. That was Quake Six, Lt. Welker.

“And don’t forget those drinks,” Connley added while pulling Darin to his feet.

“Don’t worry,” Darin said with a weary grin of his own. “I owe you guys. You saved my life back there. Thanks.”

“You should have known we’d be back to save you guys,” Welker said, his smile changing into a smirk. “The alternative would have been that we’d have to protect the fleet all on our own and pull double patrol duty, and you know there’s no way we’d ever allow that.”

Darin chuckled, and then they all looked up at the sound of running footsteps approaching. The four Quakes were only barely able to get out of the way as Quiver ran up. He had too much momentum to stop in time, so at the last minute he put out his left arm to hook the inside of his elbow around Darin’s neck. Darin yelped a bit and was almost knocked over, but he was enough of an anchor to arrest Quiver’s speed and bring his wingman to a stumbling, skidding stop.

“You’re alive!” Quiver exclaimed as he used his hold on Darin to pull Thumper’s head close and squeeze it against him in a weird, one-armed hug.

“Ow, cut face,” Darin managed weakly.

Ikoa wasn’t too far behind Quiver but took more care to slow down while approaching. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” said Ikoa as she wrapped her arms around Darin at the same time from behind and hugged him.

“Ow, blaster burns.” Darin’s voice was muffled in Quiver’s flightsuit. He pulled away from the two pilots pinning him so he could breathe, and he was surprised his face could hold his huge smile. “It’s so good to see you guys! Where’s everyone else? Are they okay?” He looked around and saw the rest of the squadron coming up, answering his questions.

Mackin smiled broadly as he shook Darin’s hand and then pulled him close to heartily pat his back. “Glad to see you safe and sound, Thumper. Great job.”

The other Coronas started to intervene with congratulations and pats on the back and friendly demands to know what had happened to him after the distress call, all while Quiver looked on like a proud parent.

Standing there in the middle of them all, Darin was just thrilled beyond measure to see each one again. In no time at all, he launched into the story of the dogfight and his escape, excitedly demonstrating the fighters’ actions with his hands, while Mackin started gently herding all the pilots toward the shuttle to go home.

Darin absentmindedly swirled the water around in his glass while he sat across a table from Quiver in the Bacta Tank, the pilots’ favorite downtime establishment on Crescent Star, and watched his friend in concern.

It was the Coronas’ second full day back onboard Crescent Star, and between identity confirmations, debriefings and medical treatments, they’d had very little time to unwind after their ordeal. In fact, this was the first time they’d really had a chance to relax...and it was trailing CC’s memorial service, which had recently concluded.

Darin had been surprised to see a couple of the Special Forces soldiers from the mission attending the service, but he hadn’t inquired about why they came. Afterwards, all of the Coronas, even Mackin, had come to the Tank to have a few drinks together and remember CC in a more informal setting. They had all sat together, along with the Quakes and some of her other friends on the ship. It was a loose, subdued, and even relaxed atmosphere, a breath of fresh air after the constant pressure of needing to get things done both off and on the ship lately.

In other words, Darin reflected, it was the first time since their rescue that Quiver didn’t have a pressing activity to distract him from thinking about it all, and it showed. Quiver looked miserable sitting there in the Tank and had barely said two words to anyone the entire time.

As time went on, the mourners had gradually excused themselves one by one until only Ikoa, Pellicer, Darin and Quiver remained at the table. Some quiet, idle conversation between the first three had ended when Pellicer had looked at his chrono and said he had to get going. Ikoa had watched their worn-out colleague walk away and seemed to want to go after him, but she had hesitated. She had caught Darin’s eye, had given a meaningful glance at Quiver, and then had only left when Darin had offered a small gesture to say that he’d stay with him. Ikoa had given Quiver’s uninjured shoulder a small squeeze before she walked away. He hadn’t reacted.

That had been close to fifteen minutes ago. Darin finished his water and asked the server droid for another. He only allowed himself to have more than one alcoholic drink if he was with friends and it was a happy occasion, or at least not a sad one, and he’d already reached his one drink maximum that day way back in the first round with all his squadmates. Part of that drink, in fact, was still present.

In the center of the table was the two pilots’ only remaining company, a single glass full of various types of alcoholic beverages. It was part of a tradition among the Coronas and Quakes after a squadmate died: at the very beginning of an informal memorial gathering like this had been, an empty glass would be passed around the table, one for each squadmate being remembered, and every person would pour a little bit of his or her own drink into the glass. Once everyone had done so, the glass was put in the center of the table until the final person left. When the glass reached him, Darin had poured in double the amount he did for other deceased squadmates; it seemed fitting, given that at mealtimes CC had always stolen one of his cups of juice or water for herself, so he was used to multiplying drinks by two when she was involved.

Now, though, the server droid only needed to bring him one new glass of water. After receiving it, Darin resumed studying Quiver. His wingman was staring at the empty seat next to Darin–though all of the seats at their large table were empty now except for the two they occupied–and he was hardly moving. Darin knew why he was fixated on that particular chair: that was where CC would have been sitting, had she been there. She always sat next to Darin and across from Quiver so Quiver would be in easy kicking range.

Darin remained there with Quiver in silence. He hoped Quiver would understand that Darin’s presence was his way of showing support, of being there for his friend. Of course, Quiver was the kind of person who did things with language, not telepathy, so he might be thinking that the silence was a sign of lack of support. Maybe in this case, though, he preferred the quiet, seeing as how he’d become extremely untalkative himself since everything happened. Darin was so confused, and it fueled his worry.

About five long minutes later, Quiver finally spoke. “I don’t know.” The words were nearly inaudible, and he was still staring at the empty chair.

Darin blinked once in surprise, then he kept his voice soft as well, like he was afraid of puncturing something with it. “What?”

“If she was here now, she’d be shaking her head and telling me to remember that gains and losses talk of mine. You know, the one that says we should always focus on the good stuff we’ve gained, not the things we’ve lost.”

“Yeah.” Darin had heard that “speech” after his first mission with the Coronas, and it had honestly made an impact on him.

“But I don’t know.” Quiver would have sounded plaintive if there hadn’t been undertones of frustration, anger, and what sounded like desperation in his voice. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I can’t find one gain out of any of this. Not one damn thing. I don’t know what it is. The only thing I’ve gained is this big void of vacuum.”

Darin stalled by taking a sip of water. How was he supposed to think of happy memories at a time like this? Besides, sometimes they just made him more sad, which he certainly didn’t want right now, but he had to do something to help Quiver. Darin took a deep breath before saying in the same soft voice, “I’m sure we can think of something. I think you’re forgetting that the gains usually come from the person’s life, not their death. At least, in this case it would be.”

When Quiver didn’t answer, Darin continued, “How about the time when she set up that prank to play on you? The one where she sweet-talked someone at the armory into loaning her a set of stormtrooper armor, and she set it up on a mannequin just inside the door to our quarters? But I got off duty early that day so I was able to walk back to our quarters with you. I opened the door first and got scared out of my mind. You laughed about that for days. You remember what happened after that?”

Quiver shook his head a bit and remained looking at the seat. Darin wasn’t sure if Quiver didn’t remember or just didn’t care. Probably the latter.

Thumper continued, “It put you in such a good mood that you decided to take full advantage of your power as morale officer, and you put together that big party for us and the Quakes. I think you even invited all the mechanics to that one, too. A lot of good came out of that, Quiv, and it got rolling because of CC.”

“Like any of that matters in the grand scheme of things,” Quiver muttered. “A party. Big deal. A party is not going to defeat the Empire.”

“I seem to remember some better relations with our mechanics coming out of that party, though,” Darin countered, “as well as the resolution of a repair on an X-wing that a few of the mechanics had been puzzling about for weeks. All that in turn makes us safer when we fly, so we can better perform our missions. Those are what lead to the downfall of the Empire. They may be baby steps, but they are steps in the right direction.”

“Baby steps do you no good if the enemy is going after you at full sprint.”

“Baby steps are what destroyed the Death Star.”

“Yavin was a fluke. We’d never be so lucky again.”

Darin suppressed a sigh. “You don’t believe that. Neither did CC. She wouldn’t have been here if she thought the Rebellion was pointless or futile.”

Quiver still didn’t break his gaze’s lock on the chair. “And I bet she believed she’d come back after this mission. I bet she thought she’d be playing with Hue again by this time. Face it, Thumper: sometimes the things people believe just turn out to be wrong.”

Sitting back in his seat, Darin spoke with an edge to his voice. “Stop it, Quiv. I don’t mind if you vent, but don’t say things like that. All you’re saying is that she died in vain, and you can’t do that if you want to honor her memory at all.”

“No,” Quiver replied, “all I’m saying is that she should be here right now, and she’s not. Things should be normal, and they’re not. A week ago, I believed that at this moment now, we would have been in the same old routine that we’re always in, with nothing different at all. We’re not. I was wrong about all the basic things I had previously thought would be happening, and since that’s true, then how do I know I’m not wrong about any of my thoughts, my presumptions, my beliefs? The big ones, the things even more complicated than what I’ll be doing in a week’s time? My interpretations of the past and present could be just as wrong as my interpretations of the future. Can’t count on any of it anymore, and the galaxy sure doesn’t care about it.” He unenergetically stood up.

Darin rose as well and stepped over to retrieve the glass from the center of the table. If everyone at the table happened to be drinking the same thing, then the last person would donate the full glass to a random person in the room. Most of the time, though, it ended up being an odd concoction that was unable to be drunk, so then it was returned to the bartender for discreet disposal.

This particular glass fell into the second category, and that action was a good, if only momentary, distraction for Darin from thinking about what Quiver had just said and what he was going through. After Darin’s family had died, he remembered experiencing the same bleak feeling as Quiver was now, and the memory of how awful that long tunnel had been without any light at the end was particularly vivid. When Thumper joined up with Quiver after somberly delivering the glass to the bartender, Darin also thought about what had gotten him out of that endless tunnel and headed for the Rebellion. Maybe Quiver just needed some of that same medicine, even though in a way it contradicted what Darin had said earlier. “I can’t exactly speak for all of your beliefs, but would you like to know why you’re not wrong in thinking that the Empire needs to be defeated and that the Rebellion is the group that’s going to do it?”

Quiver skeptically looked sideways at him while they slowly began walking out of the Bacta Tank toward their quarters. “Why?”

“Because CC’s gone,” Darin said softly. “You wanted to see the gains and not the losses, Quiver. Don’t view her death as a reason to stop fighting. Look at it as a reason to fight.”

The next day, Darin wearily walked up to the quarters he shared with Quiver. He’d just had a long discussion with the techs who were upset that Botch would not allow them to do a memory-wipe after his prolonged exposure to the Imperials on Lokinha, then he’d had just as long of a discussion with Botch about the same subject. What followed was another talk in which he examined other options with the techs and started pushing through the appropriate paperwork to waive some of the memory-wipe requirements in favor of work-arounds and scans that hopefully were just as effective. Darin had never memory-wiped his droid before, and he had no intention of starting now...especially after recent events reminded him of how precious memories could be.

At his door he punched in his access code, looking forward to taking a nap. The door slid open, and the moment he had stepped in and the door had closed behind him, Darin saw something small and dark flying at his face.

“Aaah!” He jumped back and raised his arms to protect himself against the unknown and unexpected projectile. His back hit the wall, but that was the only impact he felt; instead, he heard Quiver laughing uncontrollably, and he also realized that something small was sitting on one of his upraised arms.

Darin cautiously peeked out and saw the double-fist-sized, shimmering black avian perched on his arm, clinging to his sleeve with tiny claws on its four feet, folding its wings against its sides and happily twitching its long tail. It looked at him curiously with wide, dark eyes as dark purple, green and blue highlights glistened in its black fur. Ears that were proportionately a bit too large were pricked to hear any sound Darin might make, and its soft breath had an almost imperceptible fruit smell to it. Thumper exhaled as he recognized it. “Quiver!” he said over his wingmate’s laughter. “What’s going on? Why is Hue here?”

CC’s pet, Hue, flapped up onto Darin’s shoulder and started nibbling curiously at what was left of one of the cuts on his neck. “Ow, Hue, stop that,” Darin said as he gently pushed the small creature away from his neck. Hue climbed up onto that hand and then jumped onto Darin’s head, at which point Darin made him go onto his hand again and then brought him down to chest-level. Hue just climbed up again onto the pilot’s other shoulder and spontaneously curled up and fell asleep while Darin waited for an answer.

Quiver finally stopped laughing long enough to start giving him one. “Hoooo, Thumper, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Just like when you saw that fake stormtrooper!” His control threatened to disappear again, but he managed to calm himself down after another minute and simply said, “Hue is going to be staying with us now.”

Darin curiously raised an eyebrow. “Kile always watches him when we go on missions. Why doesn’t he keep him? Or Ikoa?”

Quiver walked up and studied Hue as he slept. “Kile doesn’t want a permanent pet. Plus, Hue’s better off in the company of other flying creatures like himself. Aren’t you, Huey? None of those groundpounders for you. And I talked it over with Ikoa, and she’s okay with it.”

Then Quiver turned a somber look to his wingman, an expression full of more seriousness and sadnessthan Darin had ever seen from his carefree friend before the mission to Lokinha. Quiver added more softly, “She was one of my best friends, Darin, and now she’s gone. Not even that crazy droid of hers is around. The least I can do for her now is to make sure that her pet is taken care of. I think she would be happy to know that he’s okay.”

Darin thought it over, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said quietly with a soft half-smile. “Somehow I think she’d want him to be stuck with you.”

***

The End