Many thanks go out to my beta-readers and sounding boards, namely ValedaKor, Alamosaurus, GoldenArrow, and Texas_Fett, for their help in making a bunch of words into a story.

Flight Officer Darin Stanic jerked his X-wing to the right just as the TIE fighter behind him shot past, its lasers illuminating the spot where he had just been. He sternly told himself to not get rattled at the near miss, but it was hard to calm his nerves.

Keeping half his attention on the constant, desperate chatter of his squadmates over the comm, Darin banked back to port and took aim at the aft of the TIE, now less than a klick ahead of him. He fired off a few rounds from his laser cannons but only managed to disintegrate the top of one of the TIE’s solar panel wings. The TIE started dancing in front of him to evade his shots. Darin bit his bottom lip as he struggled to get the TIE within his firing brackets again.

"Nine, keep distracting him. I’ll get him from above."

"Copy, Ten." Darin fired off a couple half-hearted shots in the TIE’s direction. He glanced at his scope and saw the green dot of Corona Ten circling above him and to his left. Darin fired off another shot at the TIE to keep the pilot’s attention, and he saw that one go wide as well.

Then the TIE exploded.

Another X-wing came streaking down in front of Darin and crossed his X-wing’s path briefly before disappearing below and to his right. Darin yanked back on his stick to avoid the orange fireball and TIE debris. "Thanks, Ten," he called.

"No, thank you, Nine. You make a really good distraction, you know that?"

Darin looked around. He and his wingman, Hentil "Quiver" Yanilr, had ended up a distance away from the middle of the dogfight. Only two TIEs remained in the main battle, and they were outnumbered by the rest of Corona Squadron.

"Nine? Ten? Is that you guys?" Corona Six’s voice came over the comm.

Darin looked again and finally spotted her. Six was near them, but she was even farther from the fight than they were. She had two TIEs on her tail.

As one, Darin and Quiver rolled their snubfighters to intercept them. "Well, those Imps are being rather rude, wouldn’t you say, Nine?" Quiver asked. "They didn’t even invite us to come play with them."

"Hang on, Six, we’re on our way," said Darin.

Chryse Cerac, or "CC" for short, was trying her best to evade the TIEs dogging her, but she could not lose them. As Darin and Quiver approached, one of the TIEs rained laser fire down on her, turning her fighter’s shields a translucent blue as they attempted to absorb the vast amount of energy pounding against them. The other TIE broke off and started a climb to situate itself behind the two new threats.

"Nine, you help Six. I’ll take this joker." Quiver’s X-wing pulled away.

Darin fell into place behind his assigned TIE and squeezed his trigger when his heads-up display’s firing brackets flashed green. The TIE tried to evade him while simultaneously firing at CC, but it wasn’t enough. Darin’s lasers ripped holes in the TIE’s spherical fuselage just as the TIE’s lasers penetrated CC’s shields.

Darin heard CC curse as the TIE exploded. "What is it?" he asked anxiously.

"That Sithspawn got two of my engines."

Her voice was almost overridden by a new transmission over the comm system. "Control to Corona Squadron, you have two TIE squadrons incoming, 238 mark 49, ETA two minutes."

Commander Mackin’s voice promptly filled Darin’s ears."That’s it, Coronas, we’re outta here. Hit hyperspace as soon as you are able." Scattered acknowledgments from the surviving pilots started streaming in.

Darin checked his targeting scope for Quiver. From the looks of things, he was still tangling with that TIE. "I’ll be right back, Six." He turned to head back to his wingman, and it was just in time to see Quiver’s X-wing explode in a brilliant flash of light.

Darin gave a small, shocked cry. As he stared, the TIE that had killed Quiver shot through the remnants of the X-wing’s fireball, too close and moving too fast to avoid it. A second fireball bubbled out from inside the first as the TIE collided with a large piece of X-wing debris.

He forced himself to turn away and began going back toward CC. There were no more TIEs on his scope except for the two new squadrons bearing down on them from the base on the planet below. All of the surviving Corona Squadron members except him and CC were clearing the planet’s gravity well and preparing to make the jump to hyperspace.

"Six, we’re clear. Let’s go."

"I can’t," CC answered in a strained voice. "With two of my engines gone, I can’t get up the speed to jump. Go without me."

Darin was silent for a moment as his head pounded. Too much was happening too fast. No one else was close enough to help, and even if they were, what could they do? He had to get out of there, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave without CC. If only he had a tractor beam he could pull her to get her up to the necessary speed or. . .push her.

His mind scrambled to tie up loose ends of a desperate plan. It just might work, if he had enough time and luck. He glanced at his scope, at the fighters bearing down on them. Luck he couldn’t influence; he would have to make the time be enough.

"Six," Darin said urgently, "get on the escape vector heading and give it all the speed you got. Then keep it as straight and level as you possibly can."

He saw CC complying, although her voice was confused. "I copy, Nine, but it won’t do any good. Please, will you just get out of here?"

"That’s exactly what I plan on doing."

Darin looped around behind her, put his S-foils into cruise configuration and lowered his landing struts. "Botch," he said to his astromech droid, "give me a ten-second warning before those TIEs enter firing range."

The R5-D4 droid beeped inquiringly, then urgently at him. The red dots of the enemy fighters were closing fast. "I know, Botch. Will you just do it?"

Botch beeped once, a short, scolding sound. Then the red dots on Darin’s targeting scope were joined by the countdown to when the incoming TIEs would enter firing range.

Darin lined up his X-wing with CC’s and gradually moved closer until he was breathing down her exhaust. He rose above her X-wing slightly and started inching forward.

"Nine, what are you doing?!"

"Straight and level, Six. And keep your S-foils in attack position. I’m going to try to push you up to speed."

"Six, Nine, we’re out of time. Jump to hyperspace immediately." That was Commander Mackin.

"We’ll be there in a bit, sir," Darin responded distractedly. "I just have to give Six a boost."

Darin chewed on his bottom lip in concentration while he called upon every bit of flying skill he possessed. He moved off-center relative to CC’s fighter just a little bit, so his landing skids wouldn’t be lined up with her engines. He brought his snubfighter closer and closer to CC’s, and then Botch shrieked in alarm from behind his cockpit when Darin’s X-wing finally met CC’s in a barely-controlled collision. He felt one main landing skid impact and loosely hook the trailing edge of one of CC’s upper S-foils, and he felt the other one hit what he guessed was where her other upper S-foil joined to the fuselage just inboard of the engine. Darin’s fighter was off-center and not level, and he wondered how long this arrangement could possibly last. He lowered his fighter’s nose slightly and yawed toward CC’s fighter to try to keep the craft joined together as diagnostics started lighting up in his cockpit.

"Darin!" CC sounded frightened.

"Pull your nose up, Six. My fighter will be pushing yours down. Try to keep it on the heading." Though I’d be scared too if I suddenly had another X-wing on top of mine. Hell, I’m scared right now.

Darin’s controls vehemently protested as he tried to steer the ungainly new beast. He began trying to coordinate controls and corrections with CC while he gradually increased the throttle little by little to prevent his landing struts from being torn off. Darin transferred his laser power to his engines to give them the extra boost they would now need.

"Doing okay, Six?"

"So far, I guess. But you’re totally crazy, you know that?"

Darin was too busy concentrating to respond. Botch beeped urgently as the time in the countdown dwindled down, then ran out. Darin finished pushing the throttle in. Almost, almost! Almost there! Come on, come on! He started getting ready to disengage from Six’s snubfighter to make the jump to lightspeed.

It actually surprised him when the viewport windows opaqued and the hatch to the simulator unlocked with a click. Darin sat there for a moment, stunned, as all the sources of pressure and urgency suddenly stopped and seemed to leak out through the crack in the hatch. He was breathing hard, so he tried to take a deep breath to calm himself as he closed his eyes and slumped back defeatedly in his seat.

He hadn’t made it. He was dead. He wanted to spit the bitter taste of failure out of his mouth.

A second or two later, Darin reluctantly sat up and popped open the simulator canopy hatch. Most of his squadmates were straightening up from watching the simulator viewscreen, excitedly making comments and offering insights about what they had seen since they themselves had finished. There was something else, too...Darin couldn’t be sure, but it looked like some of them were exchanging money. He shrugged to himself, then he looked down the row of now-empty simulators until he found CC’s and saw her taking off her helmet. He caught her eye. "Sorry, CC. I tried."

"I know you did, and I appreciate that." She offered a weary but grateful smile.

She seemed about to say more when her R2-B3 droid, Ruby, which was situated behind her simulator’s cockpit, swivelled its head toward Darin and started shrieking angrily. Darin turned toward it in surprise. "What?"

CC glanced at the display in her X-wing sim where the droid’s translation appeared, and whatever she had just read caused her to grimace slightly. "Apparently Ruby is rather upset with you for crushing him under your X-wing just now."

Darin raised his hands, palms out, in self-defense. "Sorry, Ruby, but I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to work all the problems out of the plan."

Ruby squawked angrily again, and that caused Botch to answer in similarly angry tones. Darin checked his own X-wing’s display to see what Botch had "said," then he turned back to Ruby to affirm Botch’s reply. "No, Ruby, it was not personal!"

The droids continued to exchange cross beeps and whistles. Darin looked at CC in disbelief. "Droids can’t argue. . .can they?"

She looked somewhat bewildered too. "Apparently." She turned to Ruby. "Hey, Ruby. Ruby!" She waited until the droid had quieted. "Stop it. Let it go. He said he was sorry."

Ruby sputtered another short series of frustrated beeps, then was silent. It kept its sensor instrument pointed at Darin, though, and he had the most unnerving feeling that the droid was glaring at him.

Darin glanced quickly at the readout of what Botch had said to Ruby during the course of their argument and smiled. "Hey, Botch," he said quietly enough so Ruby wouldn’t hear, "thanks for sticking up for me."

Botch beeped once, happily, then followed with a short series of beeps and a whistle.

Darin checked his display again. "You know, you’re the second one today to call me that."

As some technicians came to lower Botch and Ruby to the ground and as Darin started to power down his simulator, CC called his name. When he looked up, she said, "Next time, though, you really should just get out while you can. Too much loyalty in a situation like that will kill you, as you saw, and there’s no sense in both of us dying."

Darin paused, then nodded, but a thousand conflicting thoughts vied for attention as the recent struggle came to the forefront of his mind again. He knew that what she was saying made sense and that it was wrong for him to waste both of their lives, but he also knew that it felt even more wrong to just leave without someone. He sighed and shook his head hard to clear it, but stopped when the action caused his unfastened chinstrap to hit him. When he’d first gotten the helmet it hadn’t had a chinstrap at all, and while they’d since found an old chinstrap and put it in, he’d gotten so accustomed to not having one that he rarely remembered to fasten it. At least he now had an intact and nice-looking helmet as well as a flightsuit that actually fit him.

He climbed over the edge of the simulator and dropped to the floor, almost losing his balance as he landed on weak legs; that sim had taken more out of him than he’d thought. Darin leaned against the side of the simulator and took off his flight gloves as Quiver came up to him.

"Wow, Darin, I’ve never seen anything like that! You almost made it too!"

Darin pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat off his face with a sleeve. "Too bad almost doesn’t count."

Quiver started brushing something off of Darin’s orange flightsuit. As Darin looked to see what it was, Quiver said, "Hold still. You’ve got a little loyalty on you yet."

Darin shook him off as he straightened up and moved a couple steps away from the simulator. "Loyal or not, I’m just as dead."

"Allowing you to spend eternity here with us who were just as unfortunate. And you even felt pain at my passing." The lanky blond pilot put a hand to his heart. "I’m touched, truly."

Darin wasn’t certain quite how to read that. Was Quiver being serious and expressing gratitude, or was he just joking around? The mischievous grin Quiver offered his wingman a moment later told Darin it was the latter, like it had been every time in the couple of weeks since they’d met, and Darin was contemplating his response when suddenly something big and solid clipped his leg hard.

Caught off-guard, he staggered for a minute and grabbed Quiver’s shoulder to regain his balance, an action that almost brought Quiver down too. As he stabilized himself and looked up, he saw the red-and-white form of Ruby rolling serenely away. He and Quiver both stared at the droid’s back for a moment in surprise.

Quiver let out a low whistle and turned back to Darin, his blue eyes wide in amazement. "Wow. Either that droid is blind or it has it in for you."

Darin rubbed a newly-formed scuff off his boot. "I can tell you now that that droid can see perfectly well."

Commander Mackin approached them then, though his curious gaze was following Ruby. He shook his head once in wonder, then turned to the pilots. "Good flying out there, you two. Sometime tonight, Darin, stop by and see me. No hurry, I just want to talk to you about this last run." He smiled as the last of Darin’s energy seemed to visibly drain from him, and he patted Darin’s shoulder. "You’re not in trouble; we just need to discuss some aspects of what happened there. Okay?"

"Yes, sir." Darin watched Mackin head over to his XO, Lt. Steen Weas, but his view was soon blocked by CC approaching.

The black-haired woman grinned at them both. "Did you see that?" CC asked Quiver. She looped an arm around Darin’s neck and yanked him close. That almost threw him off-balance too. "The rookie here almost saved me."

Quiver half-snorted at her. "Some gratitude. Your droid just tried to kill him."

CC laughed easily. "Oh, Ruby will get over it."

With a hopeless shake of his head, Quiver said, "I just have one thing to say: memory-wipe. It solves everything."

CC had not yet let go of Darin, and she stage-whispered to him, "Don’t listen to him. We can keep our droids memory-intact if we want to. He’s just jealous because that means they have more personality than his."

Darin didn’t have a chance to answer before Quiver rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "Don’t you have a wingman of your own to hug?"

"I’m borrowing yours for right now," said CC. "Maptoo’s not the huggable type."

Quiver smirked and answered, "Can you do it later? You’re keeping us from going and getting drinks. I mean, look at him: he can hardly move. How’s he supposed to get to the Tank like that?"

"You can delay your drinking for one minute while I say thanks."

"You’re welcome," Quiver said immediately.

"Not you!" CC gave Quiver’s shoulder a playful push with one hand. Darin simply watched it all in amusement. This kind of exchange seemed to happen all the time between those two. CC continued, "I’m thanking Darin."

"But I taught him everything he knows." Quiver’s mischievous grin never lessened. "You should be thanking me."

"At least he tried to help me in the sim," CC shot back. If Darin was reading her voice correctly, she was having fun. "A whole lot of good you were doing at the time."

"Hey, I was doing much more than my fair share. How many pilots can say they’ve taken out a TIE posthumously?"

CC sighed and said to Darin, "Did you hear that? Even dead he’s still full of hot air. Have I expressed my sincere condolences to you yet for being stuck with him as your wingman?"

"Once or twice," Darin said, "though I’ll gladly accept them again."

Quiver pretended to look hurt. "Traitor. And to think I was calling you loyal before."

CC let go of Darin, and while he straightened up, she said, "He can be loyal and long-suffering at the same time."

"No, I’m scarred for life now. There’s only one thing that can soothe the deep hurt inside that was caused by his treacherous words." After he said this, Quiver’s face broke into a big grin and he slung an arm over Darin’s shoulders. "Hey, Coronas!" Quiver called out. "Let’s hit the Tank! Darin’s buying!"

A small cheer went up from the assembled pilots. Darin barely had time to throw a protesting look at Quiver before he was pulled along out of the sim room.

The Bacta Tank was the main downtime lounge and bar on the hangar side of Crescent Star, and that fact made it by default the favorite downtime hangout of off-duty personnel like pilots and mechanics. The place was well-lit and constantly active, though it had the same somewhat sterilized feel to it that the medical facilities did. Its claim to fame was a drink they had concocted that looked for all the world like bubbly bacta, hence providing the name for the establishment. The joke among the lounge’s patrons was that they went there to have all their afflictions cured by getting tanked.

The pilots of Corona Squadron had appropriated the two largest tables. Darin sat at one with Quiver, Ikoa, CC, and Slurry. He was leaning back in his chair, slouching a bit and sipping at his drink while he listened to the others’ conversation. It had started out as a review of the sim run, then it had proceeded at some wild tangents to end up as a debate about different blaster preferences. He hadn’t said much during the course of the conversation, but that wasn’t unusual for him: he preferred to just absorb things.

"No, the pistol Mach 223 is superior vastly to the Orion 10," Slurry was saying. One of the Bilgana’s four arms held his drink, another reached for some nuts, and the other two were gesturing in emphasis to his words. "The rate of fire is excellent, it’s small and compact and fits comfortably in your grip."

CC looked at him in disbelief. Her eyes were wide, revealing the beige-colored irises common on her world. "Slurry, the rate of fire on that thing means that there is absolutely no punch to any of the shots. You could probably shoot me in my sleep and I wouldn’t even wake up."

CC paused as five sets of eyes, two belonging to Slurry, turned to look at her in amusement. She rolled her eyes a bit and said, "Okay, bad choice of words there, but you know what I mean!"

Ikoa laughed a bit before turning to Slurry. "How’s the aim on the 223?"

"Fair, but simple to modify to improve it."

"Is it hard to learn to use?"

"No. The blaster has an interface easy and only a time short is required to become accustomed to it."

"Thumpers!" Quiver suddenly slammed his hand down on the table, causing the four pilots sitting with him to jump. They all turned to stare at him and saw a triumphant smile on his face.

Ikoa was the first to regain her composure. "What?"

Quiver looked around excitedly at his companions. "Thumpers. It finally came to me, just now. When I first met Darin, he said he was from the Craci System. I knew that sounded familiar for some reason, but I couldn’t think of why. I just remembered. Cracian thumpers."

Darin was momentarily thrown off-balance by this sudden new tangent, but once he recovered he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. He was more familiar with this topic. They were really the only claim to fame the Craci System had. There was no doubt that the quiet, two-legged, long-tailed workbeasts were a cornerstone of the economy and culture. "Yeah," Darin said. "They’re native to our system. That’s a real big thing there–raising thumpers and selling them to other worlds. I’ve ridden them a few times for recreation, but I prefer transports that don’t have a mind of their own. At least a speeder I can turn on and off."

CC looked surprised. "You mean you don’t like riding? How can you not like it?"

Darin shook his head. "I don’t want to be at the mercy of something that’s twice my size and can only guess with its simple animal mind at what it’s being told to do by way of vague training cues. And if it decides it doesn’t like you? I don’t want to be trampled or bitten."

"Thumpers don’t trample people, and I bet they only bite someone if they really deserve it," said CC. "They’re pretty smart, too. Countless people ride them and don’t have any problems. Now dewbacks are another story altogether."

"Back home, I lived near a thumper ranch or whatever you guys call it," Ikoa said. "I went past there every day. Cute critters. I love their big ears. Anyway, one time the owner saw me out there and gave me his sales pitch." Ikoa grinned at the memory as she looked at her drink. "How did that go? ‘The best workbeast around! Quiet as a snowflake in a vacuum! Smart, obedient, and docile, but they can be mean in a fight if they have to be. And did I mention that they’re extremely loyal? That’s the best thing about them! A better package can’t be found anywhere! Wouldn’t you agree? Would you like to see any of them?’ Or something along those lines. . ."

Darin was also smiling slightly as he stared at his drink, listening, nodding in agreement with her words, letting his thoughts cross light-years and calendar years. Even though he wasn’t fond of riding, the memory of the familiar animals was a bridge that allowed him to go back home for even just a moment. . .

He was suddenly aware that Ikoa’s voice had trailed off so he looked up. Darin raised his eyebrows questioningly as he discovered that he was now the focus of the five sets of eyes.

"What?"

No one answered him. The only response he got was a couple of thoughtful half-smiles and a full-blown one from Quiver.

Darin sat up. "What? What did I do?"

Quiver looked around the table; he caught CC’s, Ikoa’s and Slurry’s gaze in turn, and they all nodded. Ikoa motioned with a hand from Quiver to Darin. Quiver bowed his head respectfully to her, stood up and made his way over to Darin’s side. He grinned at Darin’s wary expression. "Come on, Darin."

"Where?"

"Oh, relax. Just come on." Quiver took Darin’s right arm just underneath his squadron patch, pulled him up and towed him to the side of the Bacta Tank where all the Corona Squadron pilots could see them. He held on to Darin’s arm with his left hand and pounded the wall with his right. When he didn’t get the level of attention he wanted, he raised his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. Darin flinched and rubbed his right ear with his free left hand.

"Great, thanks, Quiver. I needed that."

Quiver ignored the comment as the Tank-goers quieted and turned to look at him. "Attention, all Corona Squadron pilots!" he proclaimed. "On behalf of the pilots at the starboard round table," he pointed to the table where CC, Ikoa and Slurry remained sitting, "I present to you a Handle Nomination for Flight Officer Darin Stanic!"

What attention Quiver didn’t have before he had now. Even some non-pilots in the Tank looked on with interest. A couple Coronas let out solitary cheers of approval. Darin glanced over at his table just as Ikoa yelled out a "whoop." She caught his eye and winked, obviously having fun.

Quiver continued. "Here before you," he said while moved his hand up from Darin’s arm and gripped his shoulder instead, then shook him slightly to emphasize camaraderie, "stands a fine young pilot, mere weeks out of training, native to the planet of Craci Four.

"Also coming to the Rebellion originally from the planets of the Craci System is a type of work animal some of you may be familiar with, either through personal experience or through its esteemed reputation. Ladies, gentlemen, fellow gravity-defiers, who among you is not familiar with the traits of the Cracian thumper?" There were no puzzled expressions on the faces of the pilots, but Quiver plowed into the details anyway. "The working class’s working class of the Rebellion. An extremely loyal, obedient creature who is gentle with friends but fierce against enemies. And as we all know, the best thumpers–" Quiver raised a finger to his lips as his projected voice dropped to a soft conversational level–"are the quiet ones."

He projected his voice again. "Dear colleagues, it is with that in mind that I propose to you the callsign of ‘Thumper’ for Flight Officer Darin Stanic, Corona Nine."

Quiver paused while the pilots thought it over. Many were nodding to themselves, then turning to the pilot next to them and nodding again.

Darin took advantage of the slight lull. "So that’s what this is about?" he murmured.

"Yeah," Quiver whispered back. "Like I told you when you joined, callsigns are a big thing with this squadron. Everyone gets one, whether they like it or not." He looked back to the audience. "Is there a second?"

"I second!" CC called out.

"All those in favor?"

Every seated pilot raised their hand. Darin noticed that a laughing Slurry was holding up two.

"All opposed?"

All the hands went down and stayed down.

"The nomination is passed. Henceforth the callsign of Darin Stanic shall be ‘Thumper.’"

The pilots cheered. Darin flushed.

Quiver turned and heartily shook Darin’s hand. "Congratulations, Thumper. You are now officially and completely initiated." A few more cheers came as Quiver exercised his right as proposer to be the first to call the nominee by the nickname.

"I propose," came the voice of Lt. Jayke "Chopper" Forsgren over the dying-down cheers, "I propose that in honor of this momentous occasion, our loyal, obedient work-Thumper be the one to clear off our tables and deliver us all another round!" The cheers picked up again.

"I second!" yelled CC before she was lost to a fit of laughing.

Quiver grinned. "All in favor?"

Accompanied by the dying cheers, all the hands went up. Slurry held up all four.

"Anyone opposed isn’t drunk enough to vote correctly!" Chopper called out.

The pilots laughed, and Quiver turned to Darin. "I take that back. Now you’re officially initiated."

Darin looked helplessly at the pilots in front of him and then raised an eyebrow at Quiver in resignation before heading off to start collecting the empty glasses and bowls.

By the time Darin started collecting the empty glasses from his own table to take back to the bar, Quiver had made his way back to the table and had sat down. Quiver was smiling amiably and leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. As Darin left with the glasses, he heard Quiver say to the others, "So. What were we talking about?"

***

The End

Revision C, 5-28-04

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