In the year since Terra Group had been officially commissioned, I'd been busy beyond belief. Lacking any desire to see out my university course, I'd dropped my studies and relocated, at least partially, to Mendellia. Absent any real commitments, I'd helped Thayer re-establish the island's media services, which Eugor Atner had shut down. While Thayer had placed one of his resistance colleagues in charge of the television output, and another in charge of the newspapers, I'd bargained my way into helping run the radio station. It wasn't much, didn't even reach all corners of the island, but I had fun picking DJs who boasted an eclectic mix of tastes and approaches.
I saved the best slot -as far as I was concerned- for myself. 11-2 each day, allowing me to rise late, commute slowly, leave early and still be back at the palace in time for one of Rich Boyd's excellent meals. Vickie herself had seen to it that my narrow tastes were expanded beyond meat and potatoes, and I'd come to cherish the sight of Rich making up a batch of his famous special pasta sauce, a near universal favourite at the palace. I was even willing to forgive its entirely vegetarian contents.
Things had certainly changed in the last year.
Other things had changed as well. Along with Vickie, Rich, and who ever else wanted to drop by Coruscant, I got into the habit of visiting the GFFA every couple of weeks. One of Reth's brothers commanded the airwaves in my absence, and I was often able to trick Sci into allowing me extra time away from the base.
About four months ago, though, one thing changed in a way that I couldn't at first begin to see could be good.
My relationship with Shalla had continued as much as was possible in the months since the NR forces had left. We both knew that it wasn't likely to last. There was a significant age gap, and we were both well aware of the presence of other members of the opposite sex. To put it delicately.
It wasn't much of a surprise, then, to learn she'd met someone else.
The weekend hadn't been great to start with. Elassar and the other Wraiths had been evasive when I'd seen them on arrival. They'd offered the excuse that there was a mission to be planned, but as Shalla was absent, I knew straight away that that was a lie. Vickie and Rich had picked up on my mood quickly, and soon vanished in pursuit of Kelly. Vickie in particular was eager to compare Force-gained powers with her twin.
So I'd been alone. And Shalla, her Intelligence-training apparently guiding her, was near impossible to find. It wasn't until hours later, my weary body soaking in a hot bath in the Coruscant Prime Grande hotel, that my comlink chirped. Groaning, I reached over the side of the tub and fished around for the device, praying that Thrawn hadn't returned. Anything short of that, and I was just going to sink beneath the bubbles, and pretend I was dead.
But it was Shalla's voice that greeted me, and I knew straight away that all was not well. She began with some nervous chatter about how sorry she was not to have met me. I was in no mood to banter. My mind had been working overtime, as is its wont, and I'd come to the obvious -to me- conclusion. For once, my worst fears were confirmed. He was a pilot with Pash Cracken's Aces, and though nothing yet had happened between them, she didn't want to hurt me by playing us against one another. It was better to make this a clean break, rather than dragging it out.
I sighed, and cut off the comlink as she said goodbye. I threw it neatly into the refresher, and activated the flush. In a second, it was gone. On a planet this big, comlink flushes probably happened every day, and, for once, my environmental conscience wasn't pricked by the waste. I sank beneath the bubbles, planning a room service binge using Shalla's cred-card details.
In the end, Kelly found me. Somewhere along the line, myself and Vickie had locked frontal lobes in a way that allowed us greater awareness of each other through her Force-given telepathy. The finest NR scientists, hell, even Luke Skywalker himself, hadn't been able to fully explain it.
The best theory was that the nature of my temporary Jedi skills, the extreme conditions myself and Vickie had endured, and the friendship that had come out of it, meant that I could communicate with her, to a degree, almost anywhere over a certain distance. It was a bond that normally took years of trust to form, and to my knowledge, the only other person Vickie shared it with was Rich.
When Kelly had been cloned, the same quirk remained in her Force makeup, although I was not surprised to learn that she didn't share exactly the same bond with Rich that Vickie did. Some things about the girls were different. What it meant for me, though, was that I suddenly had two friends who'd find it very hard to ignore a ringing phone.
In this case, I stood atop the Imperial Palace, staring out over the city-world below me. I pondered the dichotomy of an environmental scientist who'd fallen in love with the view a night-time city represented. Every light had a story, I knew. Many of the stories would be much like mine. A man, a woman, a relationship ended. Bleccch.
But it was Kelly who shared this story. Finding me atop one of the observation posts, she stood silently behind me as I drained my glass of Corellian brandy. I hated the stuff, and drank it only because it had an Old Republic holo-seal on its cap. It was expensive, Shalla was paying, I was -grimly- satisfied. I'd given most of the bottle to a homeless guy outside a bar.
Words were somewhat necessary. She took up station beside me. I remembered the palace in Mendellia, a year before hand, and Pash and Face sharing their tales of woe with me. Now it was my turn, and the story was told, short on words and emotions. She was sympathetic.
She also didn't think it was a good idea for me to spend the night alone. She offered the floor of her room at Corran and Mirax's place, I declined. She pressed, I folded like a cheap sheet. Sometimes, you need your friends.
I awoke the next morning, the world around me grey and hungover. I schlepped to the bathroom, and stared blearily into the mirror, almost recoiling at the face on the other side. Bowing my head, I splashed water on my face, and scratched at my stubble with shaking hands. Shalla had always liked my goatee, even encouraging me to grow a full beard. I cast my eyes around the bathroom, and prayed the men of the house -Corran, maybe, or maybe Kelly's new boyfriend- didn't use a cutthroat razor.
I rubbed my face tentatively as I walked out of the bathroom. For the first time in what felt like years, I was clean-shaven. I ran my fingers through my hair, which Shalla had thought needed a cut last time I saw her. I allowed myself a twinge of pleasure as I though of how much I could save in barbers' fees.
The first thing I saw as I entered Kelly's kitchen was my Terra Group flight jacket. I stared momentarily at the rank patch on the sleeve, and sighed to myself at the thought of how inappropriate a Lieutenant rank was for me. I resolved to renew my campaign of joke warfare on my unsuspecting team-mates as soon as I got back. My prior arrangement with Shalla was, after all, now history.
The second thing I saw was Cubber Daine, the Wraiths' mechanic, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. A mug of caf steamed in his hand, and he was seemingly just finishing a conversation with Kelly. My friend smiled as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, and Cubber nodded a welcome to me as well.
"You remember Cubber," Kelly said, as I took a seat at the counter.
"Sure," I said, quietly. The world was still hungover, and not ready for loud noises, a fact Kelly didn't seem to realise as she turned and began clattering pots and pans on her stove. I passed on the offer of breakfast. The world wasn't ready for anything much beyond a glass of water, either.
Cubber leaned across the counter to include me in the conversation. He, at least, seemed to realise the importance of not upsetting the delicate nature of reality. His voice dropped low as he went over the chat he'd been having with Kelly.
"So, basically, I need an apprentice for a few months. Someone I can teach the basics of starfighter maintenance to so's when I retire to a life of sabacc and antique Corellian brandy," he grinned, "I know that there's someone out there continuing the fine traditions of Daine mechanics."
"Your wife got anything to do with this?" I asked, my own voice still low.
"Not so much," he replied, a shade uneasily. His eyes told the true story. "I was asking the girl here if she was interested, but she says she's too busy."
It was true. In between learning to be a Jedi, Kelly had been running full scale assaults on the courses at the New Republic Academy. Already a fully qualified pilot thanks to her and Vickie's Terra Group fun, she'd sailed through the pilots courses, and was now setting records in both the Intelligence and Slicer schools. Neither of the twins seemed interested in coasting through life.
I, on the other hand, had a sweet deal going in Mendellia. Having just turned twenty-one, I was a respected -supposed- member of the nation's military, a key figure in the extra-galactic issues beginning to develop, and a DJ with one of the top rated shows in the country.
Why, then, was I so interested in this opportunity?
Before I had a chance to decide on that -the world, on top of its disdain for noise and cooking smells, also was having trouble with conscious thought that morning- I was shaking Cubber's hand and agreeing to report to Wraith HQ two days hence.
After Cubber had left, Kelly stepped up beside me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
I grunted, all Mr. non-committal.
"You know you're likely to run into Shalla several times a day? That doesn't bother you?"
I didn't even reply to that one.
"You know Sci's gonna have a hissy fit when he hears you're taking all this time off?"
For the first time in nearly 24 hours, I grinned.
As it turned out, Sci wasn't entirely against the idea. What little GFFA tech we possessed -the X-Wings, the Red Home, the Gaia, and a few other odds and ends- were running deep into reserves by now, and the NR was reluctant to commit any more resources to our operation. Perhaps a fully qualified mechanic would be able to keep our ships and materiel in better shape.
I think that's what he said, anyway. Sci often had trouble with the long-range comm, and, subsequently, his voice and image were generally somewhat distorted. I'm pretty sure he meant for me to take the two months off that Cubber's course required. In fact, he seemed so happy, that he forgot to demote me for not booking the time off well in advance, as we're supposed to do. I guess I'll just have to try harder.
So that's why, these days, my attendance at the swankier Mendellian parties has dropped off somewhat. I still rise late, wherever possible, and my show continues to bring delight wherever it's heard. But I'm as likely now to be found elbow deep in one of the X-Wings engines. We had three 'professionaly' serviced recently, supposedly factory new and, in the great Daine tradition, how I hate them. The list of fixes and replacements I've requested from NR command required a second data pad. Eventually, I hope, Incom will learn. Cubber told me the other day that he's been approached by them for a part time consultancy deal that would run in conjunction with his NR contract. He's told his wife it'll provide a nest egg for their retirement, but I think Cubber has a lot of years left in him yet.
As well as the X-Wings, I've been helping Brad rebuild his B-Wing, when he's allowed me. Sometimes I get to pass him a hydrospanner. Sometimes not. The bigger ships need a lot of work, too. My crash course with Cubber was superb learning. The Wraiths get through a lot of vehicles in the course of their missions, and I keep studying as well, just in case. In the course of all that, I hassled Kell to teach me about explosives too. You never know, after all...
There's astromechs to play with, too. Each member of the group is to be assigned a permanent astromech, even though we don't all fly. The New Republic has expanded our complement of droids, which had previously been permanently assigned to the X-Wings. It makes sense for us to have Whistler-esque partners to grow comfortable with, and should we ever need to become a real, full, squadron, then we won't be scrabbling for spare 'mechs. The new droids are a mixed bag, though. We were lucky with our initial collection of R7 units, and our fresh consignment was made up of mostly R5 droids, with a few R2 units as well.
I'd taken great pleasure in learning that, as chief mechanic, I'd be assigned the task of matching up droids and humans. I have a real beauty lined up for Josh Nolan, and as soon as Sci deigns to come visit the blue collar work areas, he's gonna love his new partner. I take inordinate pleasure in the small things that life brings me. Subsequently, I'm a very happy man. What fun I have...
And me and Shalla get on okay, now. We're probably not ever going to be best mates or anything, and it can be uncomfortable when I see her with her new man, but I just don't have time for the negative emotions I thought would hang around for months. Obviously I should make more decisions when I'm feeling a shade fragile.
Besides, I keep myself busy elsewhere as well. Thayer, we've learned, does not appreciate the attention of his mother's ladies-in-waiting. He has become increasingly impatient with his mothers efforts, and while the girls initially seemed to view the assignment as something of a plum deal, it has only taken a short while for them to come to dread spending time with Thayer. Scuttlebutt suggests Becki's been much the same of late, but that's a rumour myself and the girls have tried to keep away from Llessur...
Sometimes, naturally, the girls feel the need to talk to someone. Who better than a man who knows the royal couple (or whatever they are) better than most, who understands the trouble loyalty can cause, and who acts like a true gentleman whether caked in grease or dressed to thrill in my smartest uniform. Sometimes the girls are very grateful indeed, and Thayer appreciates having someone else around for his mother to be mad at.
And then there's Noreh S'ytsirk, the sole female pilot in MRAF at the time of the Battle for Terra. The heart of seemingly every man in the country beats a little faster when she appears, and I get to see her nearly every day, as she drops by to discuss her latest training run, any problems she has with her ship, her latest date, whatever. I'm certainly not immune to her obvious charms, and I flatter myself that she doesn't entirely think of me as just a friend. But anything else is on hold, at least until Noreh's finished helping me with my secret, special, ultra cool project that's going to be finished any day now.
But that'll have to wait for another time. That's my comlink going off -I did get a new one, eventually- and judging by the amount of activity in the palace these last few hours, I'd say there's something new going on. Should be interesting finding out what it is.