All characters are mine, but the Star Wars universe and all its toys belong to Lucasfilm. As always, many thanks go out to the awesome people who read this and/or help me out by giving me ideas, critiques, encouragement and an ear when I need to air my frustrations. I couldn’t do this without all of you.

“Quiver? Quiver?” Flight Officer Darin Stanic poked at his wingman on the top bunk with an odd mixture of hesitancy and urgency. “Quiver?”

Flight Officer Hentil Yanilr, more commonly known as Quiver, finally rolled over and peered out through sleepy eyes. “Huh? Darin, what is it?” He reached over and turned on the small reading light at the head of his bed.

“I just wasn’t thinking. Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, and the only times you really don’t think are when you’re upset.” Those blasted impulses of his were going to get Darin in trouble someday.

“Blast it, Quiver, stop figuring me out,” Darin said with a sigh. He didn’t sound angry, just resigned and rather distracted.

“Don’t worry, you’re still a constant mystery to me.” It was Quiver’s turn to pull out of Darin’s field of view, and a second later the bunks rocked gently, and then Quiver dropped lightly to the floor. A sleepy Hue chirruped from the corner at all the commotion that had woken him as well, but after a glance at the small, adopted pet avian showed he was all right, Quiver pulled his desk chair over to face Darin, sat down and simply said, “Spill.”

The younger pilot just shook his head. “Bad dream. It’s nothing.”

With an effort, Quiver bit back several cranky remarks and instead decided to say, “I swear, sometimes you can be more stubborn than a hunk of carbonite. Will you just tell me about it already so that you can feel better and I can feel better and we all can feel better and go back to sleep?”

Darin chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at the floor. Finally he reluctantly started recounting the dream in a soft voice. “Mackin and I were in that last dogfight on Lokinha.” Darin paused, and all the memories that went with that sentence made Quiver shift his weight a little before the lanky pilot caught himself and stopped. The botched mission to the planet Lokinha a few days ago had cost their squadron a lot, including the life of Quiver’s other best friend, Flight Officer Chryse “CC” Cerac. The rest of the squadron had barely escaped with their lives, and they had also lost several X-wings during that time. A last-ditch effort and ploy by Darin and Commander Quentell Mackin had helped the rest of the pilots escape. Quiver never wanted to go through an experience like that ever again for as long as he lived.

When Quiver didn’t stop him, Darin went on. “Mack faked the hit and also faked the crash, and I started leading the TIEs away. Just like I was supposed to do. Just like I did.” Quiver nodded.

“I sent off the distress call and then tried to get away from the TIEs chasing me. Everything was the same as it happened in real life until I got to one point. In the dream, when I hoped I’d given Commander Mackin enough of a head start and tried to run, I didn’t get hit. I somehow managed to outrun the TIEs and escaped to orbit. I jumped. Just like I was supposed to.” Darin seemed to be getting some small amount of reassurance from that phrase.

He picked at a fingernail momentarily. “Next thing I know, I’m waking up in the medbay here. They called in Commander Unirt, and he asked me how I was. I looked around, knowing I should have seen some of you in medbay with me because of everyone’s injuries, but no one was there. So I asked him where you all were, and–” Darin’s voice got quieter and it wavered for an instant before he wrestled it back under control. “He said you all never came back. I was the only one they found. I started panicking, swearing to him that you should all be there because you were supposed to be following me right out, but he maintained that you never did. I told him we had to go back right away because the Imperials were really close to finding us, and I knew where you were so we could go get you.” Darin was forcing the words out now, faster. “He said–he said that if that was true, then it was too late anyway because it had been two days since they found me, and if you were supposed to be coming right after me then something obviously must have happened to all of you and there was no hope. Plus he didn’t want to send people in through the forces the Imperials had there. I couldn’t make him understand that we had to at least try to look for you, and I was trying to get up but some of the nurses were holding me down. Then he just shook his head and said, ‘Let it go, Stanic. Let them go.’ He turned and walked out, and that’s when I woke up.”

Darin stole a glance at Quiver, who was just sitting quietly and listening. “I know Commander Unirt wouldn’t really act like that, but I guess I just had to make sure that you were really here and that it was just a dream. Sorry.”

Quiver shook his head at that last word. “If my shoulder wasn’t still sore, I’d have you in a headlock right now,” he said. “There’s no need to apologize, you crazy Cracian. I would have done the same thing myself.”

“But...well...no, I shouldn’t have even brought this up. There was no reason to, and I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry. I shouldn’t dump something like this on you now. Not after what happened.”

“I’m not made of glass, Thumper,” Quiver snapped, calling Darin by his callsign. “You don’t have to treat me like I am.”

It didn’t look like Darin really believed Quiver’s claim, but he merely brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes, looked away again and repeated, “Sorry.”

“And damn it, stop apologizing.” Darin was sure acting strangely tonight. “What’s with you? Why are you acting so weird?”

Darin studied Quiver for a long moment, and Quiver got the distinct impression that Darin didn’t know if he should say something or try to squirm his way out of the question. Quiver decided to motivate him a little more. “I’m not letting you go back to sleep until you answer me. If you think I’m cranky now–which I am–you wouldn’t want to see me in the morning after getting no sleep.”

Darin sighed and took a few moments before finally speaking. “Just a little spooked from the dream. Blast it, I–I was so scared, Quiv. When Mack and I left, I don’t think I was nearly as worried about getting killed as I was about not seeing you all again. I don’t–I don’t know what I’d do without this squadron. That’s why the dream seemed so bad.

“And we came so close to not getting out of there, too. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if one or two little things had gone differently and we were still there right now instead of here, what would have happened to us? Where would we be? Would we still be on the run or would we be prisoners or would–” Darin cut himself off and stared at the floor again. “Sorry. I really shouldn’t be bringing this up. I should have listened to myself before. No need for you to go through it.”

Quiver suppressed a sigh. Secretly, this actually had been one discussion he’d been hoping to avoid. He’d never had a problem talking about difficult missions with Darin before, but this one was different. It hit a little too close to home, brought back too many memories he didn’t want to think about. Feeling hypocritical after claiming he was fine but not yet ready to go where this was leading, he tried steering the conversation a different, less painful way. “But we did get out. We’re here right now, and that was only a dream. This squadron isn’t going anywhere. We’ve gotten out of tough situations before and will continue to do so. You know that.”

Darin nodded half-heartedly, then changed the subject himself. “How are you doing after everything lately?”

“Okay as long as I don’t think too much.”

CC would have made a joke out of the last part of Quiver’s honest statement, and when Darin didn’t, things just seemed emptier somehow. Instead Darin said, “You know you just have to let me know if you want to talk about anything.”

“And you know I really don’t want to talk about any of that,” Quiver bit out. He’d never thought he’d ever hear those words come out of his mouth. That was something Darin was more apt to say, not him.

Silence followed until Darin asked, “What’s going to happen with all this stuff with Trainneer in the morning?”

Darin’s mind was way too active for that time of night. “Why are you worried? Nothing’s even been filed against you or Scoop.” Then Quiver shrugged off his wingman’s concerns and said, “Anyone can see that everyone was just a little stressed out from our ordeal. All the charges of disrespecting a superior officer or whatever they’re calling them will be dropped, I’m sure. A slap on the wrist at worst.”

“That’s not all I’m worried about, Mister Striking-a-Superior-Officer.”

“Hey, that’s Flight Officer Striking-a-Superior-Officer to you,” Quiver said. He shook his head and continued, “Relax, Thumper. The same circumstances apply. I have a good record and Mackin will understand that at a stressful point I momentarily lost it.”

“Mouthing off or not saluting is one thing, Quiver. Hitting a lieutenant colonel with no provocation is another. I don’t know if he’ll be so ready to forgive that.”

“No provocation? You think I just did that for fun? For the hell of it? I was provoked, Darin. Maybe only internally, but the provocation was there.” Quiver stopped for a second to calm down before he got too riled up. Regardless of what trouble it might land him in, Trainneer had deserved that punch and then some for all that he’d done during the Lokinha mission. “Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? They’ll throw me in the brig and send me to Kessel. You’ll visit, won’t you?”

Darin looked at Quiver in alarm. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” said Quiver. “Blast it, calm down for once. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing.”

Darin dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded mutely. Quiver shook his head again and asked, “Does my wingman have any more questions? Otherwise I’m going back to bed. I need to rest up so I can run when my death sentence is pronounced tomorrow.”

As Quiver stood up, it was obvious that Darin didn’t think that was funny. “I’m kidding,” Quiver said flatly. “Now stop it–you’re going to make me start getting nervous. If you need to occupy your hyperactive mind, make some plans for that R&R coming up.” He climbed back up to his bed and turned off the light, drowning the room in darkness.

Chapter One

Quiver almost cringed as he stood there at attention. In the four days since they’d gotten back from Lokinha, Mackin’s attitude toward him regarding the Snap Incident, as Quiver had come to call it, had changed from pure anger to mostly disappointment, and Quiver hated that. A good chewing out he could handle. In fact, he would have preferred that over this relatively calm “you let me down” talk, and he suspected Mackin knew that, too.

“Now, I appreciate what you were going through at the time, but you should have dealt with your emotions differently,” Mackin continued. “There are better ways to make your feelings known than by punching someone so high up on the food chain, or punching anyone for that matter. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No, sir.”

Mackin raised an eyebrow slightly before he went on. “Trainneer is pushing for a court-martial. Under the circumstances I won’t allow that, and the circumstances are the only thing saving you from a considerably more severe punishment. Don’t think you’re getting off completely free, however. Your flight status has been revoked for two weeks, Flight Officer Yanilr, effective immediately. As of right now, you’ll also be staying behind while everyone else goes on R&R. If you want to go, you’d better give me a damn good reason to change my mind. Understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Quiver said unemotionally.

“Dismissed.”

Quiver managed to keep his face expressionless as he saluted, about-faced and walked out. Once the door closed behind him and he was alone in the corridor, the only thing that stopped him from slamming his hand against the wall in anger and frustration was the knowledge that Mackin and Snubber would hear it and that really wouldn’t help his case, just like it wouldn’t help for him to march back in there and tell them exactly how unfair he thought this was. He needed some time to cool off before he did something he’d regret. Quiver considered his options, and then he remembered that Darin was probably over in the repair bay at the moment helping to fix his X-wing now that the fighters were back from the post-Lokinha quarantine, so their quarters should be empty. He’d go there for a while, play with Hue and sort things out.

“He probably just didn’t want to drag things out any more,” Weas responded.

Mackin laughed once, humorlessly. “Quiver? Not dragging things out? That would be a change. And don’t let me forget we need to do those–what are they calling it–‘peer advising sessions’ to set everyone else straight about the importance of outwardly showing respect for lieutenant colonels. But speaking of dragging things out, what time is it?”

Weas checked his chrono and said, “Ten minutes before you have to leave, sir.”

Commander Mackin nodded and leaned back in his chair. “There have been dogfights I’ve looked forward to more than this, Steen. Ever since we got back, the higher-ups haven’t seemed too happy with me. Everything indicates that things are going to go supernova here and it’s not going to be pretty. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

“Just remember one thing, sir,” Weas said. “No matter what happens, this squadron will be behind you. This wasn’t the first time you’ve led them out of hell. Nothing that can happen in that room will make them decide to turn away now.”

Mackin slowly pushed himself to his feet. “But if I’m the one always leading them out, by the same token who do you figure is leading them in there in the first place?” The stocky pilot absently ran a hand through his black crew cut and smoothed out his uniform. “But thanks. Hopefully I’m wrong about all this, but if I’m not, that support will be nice to have.” He looked at his own chrono. “I guess I’ll get going now. Better early than late, and they certainly don’t need more ammunition.”

Nodding, his XO said, “Good luck, sir.”

“I take full responsibility for my pilots’ actions, sir.” Mackin stood stiffly at ease in the office, keeping his sight fixed on a blemish on the wall behind Major Tellar-Nir Linnme. As long as he did that, he could also avoid looking at Lieutenant Colonel Adaic Trainneer of Special Forces, who was standing beside Linnme’s desk.

Linnme was a short, round man with thinning hair, but his physical figure didn’t detract from his well-earned aura of authoritative power. The man was Mackin’s and Unirt’s direct superior on Crescent Star, and although Linnme rarely went out in the field anymore he was not one to sit idly by and watch things happen: he did them and made sure they got done, come what may. It was an attitude and work ethic that Mackin held in esteem, but all too often the two officers seemed to clash over other things relating to missions and command. Mackin respected Linnme as an officer, but there were times he wished they could simply see eye-to-eye more clearly. Like now.

“It’s not going to be that easy, Commander.” Major Linnme stood up and leaned forward on his desk to glare at Mackin. “You’ve played that game before and usually won. But no more. This was the last straw!” He straightened up. “This isn’t just about your pilots disrespecting Colonel Trainneer at the quarantine site. It’s also about you going against orders to retreat when the Imperials first attacked on Lokinha.”

“Sir, half my squa–”

“I’m not FINISHED, Commander!”

Mackin closed his mouth and waited silently.

Linnme continued. “You were ordered to retreat. You didn’t. That’s all there is to it. Unlike so many–too many–of our members, you’re career military, Commander: you should know better. You know that kind of behavior is not acceptable, especially in a place like the Rebellion where we have beings of every background and lifestyle trying to work together. The only common ground we really have to do that with is discipline. You and your squadron are decidedly not disciplined, which makes you a liability as is. We can’t have that anymore.”

Mackin suddenly wished he was back on his homeworld of Treminal III. He understood how things worked there and what was expected of him; likewise, his superiors there worked like he did and they would handle this situation a lot differently. He was tired of his command style so often clashing with his superiors’ here in the Rebellion.

He’d developed the Coronas as much as he could with his Treminal style of command and was happy with the way they’d turned out so far. The Coronas worked well together, and when it came right down to it, they put each other before everything else. They didn’t have a high casualty rate compared to other X-wing squadrons, quite possibly because of that strong sense of loyalty to each other. He remembered what Weas had told him and silently wondered how many of Trainneer’s “disciplined” people would follow that officer into hell.

As he thought of Trainneer, Mackin realized that so far the lieutenant colonel had been silent, and Mackin was glad for that. Nothing Trainneer would offer could help him. At least the bruise on his face from Quiver’s punch had faded.

Linnme had not said anything for a short time. Mackin hoped he could sneak some words in and ventured, “Sir, if I may?”

The major sighed in slight aggravation. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, if we had left when ordered, you would now have five pilots here and five on planet either captured or killed. Instead, we have nine pilots alive here and only one casualty.”

“Yes, hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? But for all you knew at the time, you could have all been captured or killed, leaving us with nothing out of the original ten pilots instead of the five we would have been guaranteed. And we could have sent rescue teams for any captured personnel later when we were in a better posture to assist.”

Mackin resisted the urge to emphatically shake his head. “Like I said in my debriefing, sir, based on what happened I do not believe that any captured pilots would have survived long enough for a rescue team to come.”

“But you did not know that when the retreat order was made. That happened after the fact. But all of this speculation and hindsight is really a moot point, Commander. The fact remains that the decision whether or not to stay wasn’t your call to make. You were told to get out. And when you’re told to get out, you get out.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I was not going to leave half my squadron behind.” Mackin simply couldn’t figure out why that concept was so hard to understand.

“Well, that’s the real problem now, isn’t it?” Major Linnme paced around a bit. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened! Always, when it comes to your squadron, you’re as hard to reason with as a Gamorrean in heat. While some outsiders might see that protectiveness as a noble quality, others who are relying on you to follow orders to complete a mission don’t look so kindly on it when things suddenly get twisted or outright refused to safeguard your pilots, even if the mission is ultimately still a success. Lokinha was a prime example of one that wasn’t and was made even worse by you. Your failure to follow orders and leave brought about complications and endangered other people who should never have been endangered! We can’t have this anymore, Commander. It has to change, right now. You have to learn once and for all that the Rebellion does not revolve around your pilots or your whims. There is such a thing as acceptable losses, and in a war there’s no getting around casualties. We try to minimize those losses with discipline. Somehow I didn’t think that relieving you of command for any length of time would make the message sink in, so we’re going to try a different approach. You and your subordinates will now learn the value of discipline and of working as a team with others by working with a group that can fully demonstrate it to you.”

He paused for emphasis, and his gaze bore a hole straight through Mackin. Mackin knew something bad was coming and it was confirmed a moment later.

“Corona Squadron will not be getting that R&R they’re scheduled for,” said Linnme. “Instead, all of your pilots who are cleared for active duty will be preparing for a mission with Special Forces under Lieutenant Colonel Trainneer. A couple of the Special Forces teams are short-handed after Lokinha as well and your pilots can fill that gap quite nicely for now, especially since you can’t fly any regular missions with only five X-wings anyway.”

“Sir,” Mackin said, not caring if he got chastised for interrupting, “there are hundreds of ground troops onboard who could more easily fill in a Special Forces team than fighter pilots could.”

“Then think of this as a lesson in appreciation for Special Forces that all of your pilots seem to have need of,” Linnme snapped. “Maybe after this they won’t be so quick to disrespect members of that group. Besides, a little cross-training never hurt anyone, especially when the main thing you’ll all be learning is how to work with others and act in a disciplined, organized fashion. Maybe some of this ground training will help you if you ever find yourself in another situation like Lokinha, too. Now, on this mission you will follow Colonel Trainneer’s instructions to the letter and you will all give him your full cooperation and support. Is that understood?”

Mackin didn’t like that at all. Special Forces work, of all things, so soon after what they had gone through on Lokinha? And the fact that his superior was going after the other Coronas to teach him a lesson just made him angrier. He managed to keep his voice level though its volume did drop a bit as he protested, “Sir, this squadron is in no–”

“Is that UNDERSTOOD, Commander.”

Mackin didn’t say anything for a moment as he quickly sorted it out in his mind, trying to think of another way to refuse. Linnme apparently saw the wheels turning and broke the silence with a low voice. “Consider this. I have a squadron commander who does not always follow orders and pilots under him who feel they can get away with murder because he’ll watch their backs and get them out of trouble. To solve this problem, my recommendation was to split everyone up and assign all the pilots to different squadrons as hole-fillers, or at a bare minimum replace its command levels and maybe a few others with different officers, but a few others didn’t agree with me. I’m sure that if I report resistance or lack of cooperation on your part, I can convince them to agree with my suggestion. So, I’ll ask you one final time: is that understood?”

The pilot felt more trapped than he had on Lokinha. Finally he said through a clenched jaw, “Understood, sir.”

Linnme stared hard at him. “Remember, full cooperation and exemplary behavior or this squadron is history. I expect nothing less than perfect professionalism from all of you. Dismissed, Commander.”

Mackin came to attention, executed a picture-perfect salute and about-face, and walked out. After the door closed behind him, he took a few deep breaths and resisted the strong urge to march back in there and tell them exactly how unfair he thought this was. Fuming, he stalked down the corridor but was almost immediately stopped when he heard a voice behind him call out, “Commander.”

He turned and saw Trainneer approaching him. After a silent, deliberate exchange of salutes, Trainneer said, “The mission is in four days. You’ll be present at the final two planning sessions, and I will contact you with that information and to get you up to speed.”

“Sir,” Mackin said as calmly and as reasonably as he could, “my pilots are in no condition to do a mission right now. This is just asking for a disaster. Plus, we don’t have any kind of Special Forces training.”

Pulling out a datapad, Trainneer said, “In response to your first remark, suck it up, Commander. The Rebellion’s hard. Deal with it. Your pilots don’t need to be babied. My Special Forces teams took more casualties than you did and they’re ready to go. Now, including yourself, how many pilots do you have that are cleared for active duty?”

“Five, sir.”

“That doesn’t include the one who should be court-martialed, does it? Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that just because you’re giving him some flimsy little slap on the wrist.”

The volume of Mackin’s voice dropped a small amount when he said, “No, sir, he’s not included in that number.” Every second that passed in this conversation convinced Mackin even more that this mission would not be enjoyable in the least.

The tall redhead nodded and punched in some information on the datapad, then he handed it to Mackin and said, “This will take care of your second problem. You and those other four will spend the next few days in accelerated training courses for this mission according to this schedule. Your role will not be extensive, so I wouldn’t worry too much about lack of in-depth training. Oh, with one exception. I was looking at some information about your pilots earlier, and there was one–I forgot his name–who had experience with a shipping company. Is he one of the cleared ones?”

Mack’s expression hardened ever so slightly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. He’ll be of special use to us. Brief your pilots on their new temporary role. This mission is now your top priority, as well as theirs. Carry on, Commander.”

Hue was cooing softly as he slept curled up on top of Quiver’s head, his tail hanging down over the pilot’s face. Quiver sat cross-legged on his bunk, the only indication of even minimal brain activity being how he repeatedly gently blew the end of Hue’s tail away from his face, only to have the tail settle back in place again a moment later. Quiver had lost count a half hour ago of how many times Hue’s tail had done that, and he knew that his short blond hair usually looked so messy and bedraggled anyway that no one would even be able to tell an animal had been sleeping on it.

The door to their quarters opened, and Darin abruptly strode in and went straight to his computer console. Judging by the amount of grease smeared on his uniform and hands, he’d been helping with the repairs on his X-wing. Darin was already inputting commands before he even noticed that Quiver was there. “Hi,” Thumper said in slight surprise as he continued to work at the console, not even bothering to sit down at his desk. “What are you doing here? How did it go this morning?”

Quiver shrugged lifelessly, though Darin didn’t see it. “It could have been better.”

Darin hit another key and then looked up at Quiver with a furrowed brow. “What does that mean?”

“Mack grounded me for two weeks.”

“What? What happened to that mere slap on the wrist you were so sure was going to happen?”

Quiver started to shake his head but stopped when he remembered Hue was sleeping on it. “I wish I knew. So anyway, you’re not allowed to have any fun on R&R since I can’t go.”

Darin opened his mouth to say something, but just then his console beeped at him and pre-empted his words. He turned toward the screen and quickly punched a few more buttons, read something and then said in disbelief, “Damn it! I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Now Quiver was the one asking, “What are you talking about?” but Darin didn’t immediately answer and instead pulled out his comlink and fiddled with it.

“Pellicer,” came a voice on the other end of the comm channel a moment later.

“Scoop, it’s Darin. I got the same message saying R&R is cancelled.”

“Slurry and Ikoa did too. Snubber got called out of here a short time ago–let me call him and ask him about it quick. Stand by.”

Darin turned off his comlink, closed out his messages in obvious frustration and turned back to Quiver just as his wingmate blew aside Hue’s tail again.

“What’s this about cancelling R&R?” asked Quiver.

Darin shrugged. “You know about as much as I do. We’ll find out soon, I guess. Hopefully it’s just a mistake. If it is a mistake, though, and R&R is still on, you really need to go. Mack should be able to see that. It’ll help. You’ll need to go.”

They fell silent until Darin’s comlink beeped. He quickly answered it with, “Go ahead.”

“Snubber says there’s a squadron meeting in fifteen minutes in the briefing room where all will be explained. Tell Quiver, okay?”

“All right, thanks, Scoop. See you then.” Darin turned off his comlink again and shoved it in a pocket. “Damn it. I don’t like the sounds of this, Quiv. Something’s not right.”

“Then let’s go find out what’s wrong.” Keeping his head still, Quiver looked upward as much as he could and whistled softly a bit. “Hue, wake up.” When he felt some reluctant movement on his head, he whistled again and said, “Huey, go find Darin. Where’s Darin? Go find Darin.”

Hue gave a happy squeak when he woke up and saw Darin in the room, and an instant later he launched himself off of Quiver’s head and dove at Thumper. Darin raised a forearm to block his face, and almost immediately Hue reached him and grabbed onto his sleeve. Darin gently patted Hue’s small head a couple of times while the black four-legged avian folded his wings at his sides and chirruped contentedly.

“Good, he knows your name,” Quiver said as he climbed down from his bunk. “Now all I have to do is teach him the attack command and I’m set.” He didn’t have the ambition to put the effort into the joke like he would have before, either in tone of voice or in the chosen words. It sounded flat in his ears as a result, but that didn’t concern him much.

“Look, I didn’t have much of a choice. Major Linnme threatened to split us up if we don’t cooperate, and you all know that he does not make idle threats.”

Mackin looked around at his pilots as they sat sullenly in the briefing room. Like he and Weas had expected, they had really been looking forward to the R&R in two days and did not take the confirmation of its cancellation well. At first he had been surprised that all of them already knew about the scrub, but then he remembered how news could travel like wildfire in this squadron. None had known about the Special Forces mission, though, and also as expected, they did not take that news well either.

The commander ran a hand through his hair and said, “I want us to stay together. I assume you all do too. So if we all want that, then we all need to quote ‘give our full cooperation and support’ endquote to this mission. I’m certain they’ll be keeping a close eye on us to ensure exactly that. Everyone clear?”

There were scattered affirmative mumblings throughout the assembled pilots.

“I don’t have mission details yet but everyone involved will be briefed as soon as possible. For now, though, I do have our training schedule. Two, Five, Eight and Nine, the five of us start training in an hour, and you will all have a copy of the schedule sent to you. The rest of you get to blissfully continue with your light or admin duties while you recover from your injuries. Any questions?”

Chopper raised his hand and then said, “I’ve got one, sir. What the hell are they thinking?!”

“They’re thinking that we’re all loose cannons and need to shape up, which is why all of you, whether you’re going on this mission or not, will now all be on your best behavior until they feel we don’t need a babysitter or a drill sergeant or a prison warden anymore, and then things can get back to normal. Clear?”

Still sulking, the Coronas nodded.

Mackin sighed inaudibly. “Good. I’ll let everyone know more as I hear it, but for the next few days the five of us who are going on this are going to be very busy. I’m sorry about R&R, but I’ll make it up to you all somehow.

“That’s all I have about that, but I have one more item of business too.” Mackin wasn’t particularly looking forward to this, either. “I was going to do this at our afternoon briefing today, but that won’t be happening for the foreseeable future.” He watched his pilots’ reactions more intently, and a few pilots in particular got special scrutiny while he explained. “The people here are finishing up taking care of CC’s affairs. They gave me a stack of datacards this morning, each one containing a message she recorded for each member of the squadron. I’ll pass them out now. Once you have yours, you’re free to go.”

The room was quiet as Mackin handed them out, and one by one the pilots got up and left. Not surprisingly, Lieutenant Ikoa Fyndcap, who had been CC’s roommate, looked a little hesitant or shaken when she got hers. As Lieutenant Shaun “Scoop” Pellicer, CC’s wingman, took his, it looked like he was more bothered by something than Mackin would have expected. Darin didn’t react, and it seemed like he forgot about his own datacard’s existence in favor of closely watching Quiver when his wingman received his. Quiver was holding the datacard at the edges like it was made of acid and was looking at it with a strange expression on his face.

“Quiver?” Darin ventured softly.

Quiver never took his gaze off the datapad. “I’ll be in our quarters.” He quickly got up and left.

Darin slowly stood and looked after Quiver helplessly. He and Mack were now the only ones remaining in the briefing room, and Mack said, “Darin.”

Darin turned to face his commander and absently put the datacard in a pocket. “Yes, sir?”

“How are you doing? About CC?”

“I’m okay, sir.”

That seemed a bit odd to Mackin given what good friends Darin and CC had been and how hard Darin tended to take things, but the commander couldn’t find any of the multitude of obvious and telltale signs that indicated Darin was lying, so there was a pretty good chance he was being sincere. Mack nodded once in the direction of the door. “What about Quiver?” He’d been even closer to CC, and anyone could tell Quiver was having a rough time these past few days since Lokinha.

Darin grimaced and shook his head a bit. “He’s not doing so well. Moody, not anywhere near as talkative as he used to be, but I can’t figure out what will help.”

“Do you think another counseling session would be beneficial for him?” Mackin asked quietly. He’d been toying with that idea for Quiver ever since all of the standard counseling sessions for the squadron after the Lokinha mission had been completed.

Darin began fidgeting and said, “I–I don’t know, sir. I’m not sure what will help him.”

“All right, that’s fine,” Mackin said gently. “I’ll probably sign him up for another anyway. Let me know if you get any ideas, or even if there’s anything else you want to talk about. Door’s open.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commander watched as Darin slowly walked out of the briefing room. He sighed again and put another item on his exponentially-growing list of things to do.

At least he didn’t have to deal with Trainneer very much like Mackin did–he suspected that would tire him out even more. Darin was also grateful that Lieutenant Bren Troy, the leader of the Special Forces team Darin was assigned to for this mission, had chosen to take the pilot under his wing and help him out with this Special Forces stuff when he could. He’d even given Darin a few pointers on how to work with Trainneer.

“Trainneer walks the straight-and-narrow,” Troy had privately told him when they first met. “He’s by-the-book and considers himself one of the authors. Just keep that in mind when you’re dealing with him and you’ll be fine. He likes everything laid out and doesn’t like surprises.”

Darin had also been relieved that someone there was even speaking to him, let alone going out of his way to help Darin out. He had thought the Special Forces soldiers wouldn’t be too happy with the Coronas after they’d been unable to protect one of the Special Forces shuttles on Lokinha, but when he’d hesitantly voiced his concerns to Troy, the black-haired commando had just shaken his head.

“We certainly regret the loss of that shuttle and her people in the ambush, but with that many Imperials and TIEs, something was bound to happen–we don’t blame you,” Troy had said, and it had sounded like he’d meant it. “Then two of you even got the rest of us safely into orbit. All of us on Starsmoke wanted to go back and help you, but Trainneer was rather adamant about leaving, claiming we didn’t have the weaponry on the transport to help if veteran fighter pilots in X-wings couldn’t even hold out. I suspect we could have found a way to make it work if we just picked up your shot-down pilots like your commander requested and avoided the actual dogfight, but we never got the chance. Unfortunately, Trainneer wasn’t Special Forces originally and doesn’t really understand yet how we operate. But you all turned quite a few heads that day by refusing to leave your squadmates behind in spite of what it cost you. If only more people were like that.”

The day before the mission began, Quiver picked up his full lunch tray from the server and headed to their usual lunch table in the mess hall. He finally had a chance to eat with his wingman and was glad for it–he’d hardly seen Darin at all these past few days because of Darin’s nonstop training, and Quiver needed a good distraction from everything. CC’s death was still too fresh in his mind, and he was angry at Trainneer for stealing his other best friend away when he really needed him. In particular, he wanted to talk to Darin about some of the things CC had said in her recorded message, and he wondered what CC had put in Darin’s message too.

When Quiver walked into view of the table he saw Darin already sitting there with a tray full of untouched food. On the table beside the tray, Thumper had his head down resting on his crossed arms, and he looked to be asleep.

Quiver set his tray down opposite him and took a seat. The lanky pilot noticed that there were two drinks on Darin’s tray, a habit he’d started to counter CC’s habit of stealing his drink at mealtimes. Blast it, why was Darin still doing that? The last thing Quiver felt he himself needed now was such a blatant reminder that CC should be there but wasn’t. He forced himself to breathe, and while ignoring the slight trembling of his hand he took one of the glasses of juice and put it out of sight on an empty table behind him.

Now that the offending glass was dealt with, Quiver sat for a few moments in silence to make sure he was fully in control. Once he was satisfied, he studied his wingman and wondered if he should wake Darin up or just let him rest. When he decided that Darin probably needed food as much as he needed sleep, he reached across the table and flicked Darin’s ear. “Wake up!”

Darin jerked his head up and blinked, apparently trying to get his bearings. When he saw Quiver and their food, he rubbed his sunken-looking eyes and said, “Sorry, Quiv.” He rolled his head around a bit, picked up a fork and began to eat, never seeming to notice the missing double glass. Darin had gotten his favorite food today, and Quiver wondered if Darin liked putting strong spices in seafood to add to the flavor or if it was to help wake him up when he was tired.

“How you been?” Darin asked. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“That’s because you’re training every waking minute,” Quiver replied as he began to eat as well. It came out a little more harshly than he intended.

“Sorry,” Darin repeated. “Trust me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t be doing it.”

“I know,” said Quiver in a more subdued voice. “I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you. I’m just upset at the whole situation.”

“Well, it’ll all be over soon.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you never answered me. How’ve you been?”

“Just marvelous.”

“That good, huh?”

“Oh, sure,” said Quiver sardonically. He’d honestly meant to have a good lunch with Darin, but blast, his dismal mood was too hard to get rid of, and he couldn’t prevent it from surfacing. “Who has time to be miserable when they’re spending all their time with their friends and doing useful, important things for a cause they believe in? Oh, wait, I guess I do since none of those things apply to me right now.”

Darin looked a bit guilty and changed the subject by asking, “What did they have you doing today?”

“For the most part I was playing courier and delivery boy. I had some things to take to medbay, and when I got there Slurry was just finishing with his checkup. The doctor’s going to put him back on active duty tomorrow since his physiology finally decided to respond to the treatments for his ribs. I chatted with our favorite Bilgana for a while until I started talking like him without even realizing it. That’s when I knew it was time to leave and be on my merry way. Or my way merry. Take your pick.”

Nodding, Darin said between mouthfuls, “It’s good that he’s back. Have you seen Chopper or Kalre lately? How are they doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the doctor will tell me tomorrow when I go in to get my shoulder checked out.”

Quiver’s wingmate looked at him in concern. “Is it still hurting?”

“No. No, actually it’s gotten a lot better these past couple of days–this is just a routine follow-up and look-see. I’m hoping to be cleared medically, too.”

Darin relaxed. “Good. Then I’ll tell Ikoa that you’ll need your X-wing back after this mission so she’d better not break it.”

Quiver shook his head in bewilderment. “I still can’t believe they’re making you guys take the X-wings. Not even half the repairs on them are done yet, even with the mechanics scrambling around like crazy trying to get them finished before you leave.”

“Yeah, I’m not too thrilled about it either.” The tone of Darin’s voice confirmed his sentiment.

“There has to be another option,” Quiver insisted. “Take a couple of the Quakes’ Y-wings or something instead.”

Darin chuckled a bit. “No thanks. They need a solid force here to protect the fleet. Besides, I’ll take my decrepit X-wing over a Y-wing.”

“Good thing you don’t care about having a landing gear, then.”

Darin sighed and rubbed his eyes again. “Blast it, that’s still not working?”

Quiver shook his head as he finished a mouthful of food. “No, there’s a part they need that logistics doesn’t have. It won’t arrive for another week or two, and that’s only if the resupply ship makes it here on time and at all.”

“Great.” Darin was interrupted by his comlink beeping. With yet another sigh, he pulled it out of his pocket and turned it on. “Stanic.”

“Thumper, they want to start the next class early,” Mackin said. “Report to the blaster range immediately.”

Quiver’s expression darkened, and Darin’s face fell as he replied, “Sir, I’m only halfway through lunch. Can I be a few minutes late?”

“Sorry, but they won’t start until everyone’s here, and apparently they really need that extra time to get everything in. I need you down here now.”

“Yes, sir,” Darin said deflatedly. He turned off the comlink and shoved it back in his pocket in frustration. Then he stood and looked at Quiver, who had turned his gaze down to his lunch and wouldn’t look up. “I’m really sorry, Quiver. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“I doubt I’ll be up,” Quiver said in a stony voice. He fiercely stabbed at a piece of food on his plate with a fork. Were one good meal and a little company and support really too much to ask for?

“Quiver, I–”

“No, just go,” Quiver interrupted, his voice never changing. “You’ve obviously got more important things to do. Don’t want to hold you up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I want to be doing this?”

“Well, let’s see here, I didn’t hear you putting up a fight just now with Mack, so that leads me to believe the answer is yes.”

“Mack’s in the same situation I’m in,” Darin shot back. “I’m not going to fight with him about this. It’s not his fault.”

“Well, it’s nice to know where I stand in your priorities,” Quiver said with a snort.

“Huh? What are you talk–”

“Forget it. If it actually mattered to you, you’d know. You know what, I don’t care anymore. Just go. Go to your damn training and leave me alone. That’s something you know how to do pretty well.”

In his peripheral vision, Quiver saw Darin stand there unmoving for a moment with an expression that warred between guilt and hurt. Before either one claimed dominance, he grabbed his tray of food and left.

A second or two later, Quiver finally looked up just in time to see Darin deposit his tray at the cleaning station and then brush past people on his way out with his shoulders slumped. Darin itched at a leftover cut on his face, and then he was through the entranceway and was gone. He hadn’t even taken his uneaten piece of fruit to eat on the way to the range like he normally would have.

The lanky, blond pilot remained sitting at the table for a moment, staring after his friend. He could tell he’d hurt Darin, but he hadn’t intended to and that just made Quiver feel even worse. The added misery in turn made him even more angry at life, which made him feel almost self-righteous and unremorseful for any misery he happened to inflict on others. Those thoughts pricked mercilessly at his conscience and made him feel worse yet. It was an ugly, vicious cycle that Quiver had never had to deal with before and didn’t know how to break. Unfortunately, the people he felt most comfortable asking for advice on how to do just that were in nonstop training classes, inaccessible to him.

Darin ambled down the corridor to his quarters that night. Even though they were leaving on the mission in the morning, at that moment he was simply glad to be done with that training, and he was really looking forward to flopping into bed and going to sleep. In spite of that anticipation, though, his step was slow due to weariness and also something else: he was uneasy about how Quiver would act toward him when he got there, if Quiver was even still awake. Thumper hadn’t been able to get the situation out of his mind and had felt guilty about everything since lunch. If his wingman was awake, would he still be angry? If he was asleep, did that mean Quiver had decided it wasn’t even worth it to wait up long enough to say hi and talk for a bit?

His worried thoughts kept him preoccupied on the way to his quarters, but as he passed some of the other Coronas’ rooms before reaching his own he saw something unexpected that brought him back to the present. Lt. Ikoa Fyndcap was standing in the hallway up ahead beside the door to her own quarters, leaning with her back against the wall. She didn’t seem to notice him.

“If they haven’t answered the door by now, I don’t think anyone’s home,” said Darin as he approached. At the sound of his voice, Ikoa looked up and gave a slight smile. Darin came over next to her and mimicked her position as a wall support. “What are you doing out here? You locked out?”

The small woman with light brown hair shook her head a little. “No. Just sometimes lately when it’s been late like this it’s too empty in there. It’s even worse now that most of her personal items are all boxed up. I was getting up my nerve to go in and go to bed.”

Darin nodded in understanding. “It gets lonely. That seems to thrive in empty rooms. It sure is strange without her around, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot quieter and nowhere near as much fun. Heh, you know what she used to do in the morning when she could tell I was upset about something?” Ikoa smiled briefly as she remembered, though her green eyes remained sad. “When she’d be getting ready to go on duty she’d pull out two of her uniforms that were identical down to the last thread and make a big fuss about choosing which one she should wear that day. She’d hold up one and then the other and repeat that like five times before she pretended to be completely at a loss and turned to me and begged me to decide for her. For some reason, that always made me laugh.” Her smile slowly faded. “What I wouldn’t give for that right now. I could sure use it.” Then she turned her head a bit to look sidelong at Darin and said, “I’m glad to see you dealing with this as well as you are. When it happened, I was really worried that you’d take it really hard.”

Darin shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Quiver doesn’t seem to be okay, though,” Ikoa remarked somberly. “How is he?”

Darin shook his head. “Not good. He’s pretty upset.”

“It’s been rough on him,” Ikoa agreed. “I hope he can pull through this.”

“Me too, but I’m sure it’ll take a while. He hasn’t wanted to talk or anything.”

Ikoa’s brow furrowed. “He won’t even talk to you?”

Once again, Darin shook his head. “No. Actually I think he’s pretty mad at me right now.” He briefly told Ikoa about what happened at lunch and then ended with, “I’m not really anxious to go back to my quarters now after that.”

“So I’m avoiding my empty quarters and you’re avoiding your occupied quarters. Maybe we should swap,” said Ikoa.

Darin laughed a little. “That would sure throw Quiver tomorrow–he wakes up and you’re there in my bunk instead of me. But really, if you want to come and just crash there tonight you can. I can sleep on the floor. At least there would be some sounds instead of that empty stillness. It might help. I bet Hue would like to see you again, too.”

“Thanks, Thumper, but I’ve got to learn to deal with this because it’s not going to go away anytime soon. I’ll be fine.” She sighed and then changed the subject. “So how do you think this mission is going to go?”

“Hopefully things will be fine. It sounds straightforward enough. I’d sure like a day off between now and then, though.”

“Who wouldn’t?”