Spring warmed Hosnian Prime. Snowbirds stitched across the sky and headed east, never breaking from their V-formations. The breeze was so gentle, until the crack of thunder and hot air rushed above. People looked and saw through the glint of sun- five metallic X-wings cut through the atmosphere like knives. In a fluid movement, the starfighters were rolling scissors above Senate Square. Up and down again, the men and woman encased inside sweated with adrenaline. They practiced their tactical art as if effort never occurred to them. Thousands of citizens and senators jumped and cheered for the Precision Air Team, it was quite the impressive entrance. Not even the graceful snowbirds quite compared... it was true that not even a bird is as free as a pilot. To make the air your's and manipulate it with wings stronger than steel.
These five were the finest of the New Republic Fleet. The people could ask nothing more from these defenders- it was the perfect contribution to Bail Organa's statue ceremony.
The T-85's shut their engines off inside of the senatorial hangar. Warm air rushed against opposing corners while the loudness subsided. Joph Seastriker caught his breath, grinning as he pulled himself vertical again. Ledaney followed behind and Zari was stretching her arms at his side.
"That deserved some jet fuel!" Ledane hopped down and rubbed his wrists, looking at his friend for approval.
None of the pilots disagreed. They all really wanted some celebratory booze. This wasn't as glorious as fighting in great wars or locking into some serious dogfights, but it was as good as duty would get. The Precision Air Team lived in the now, despite how sleepy some afternoons could get. Though sometimes, the spring air tantalized them with it's movement, sending sweet smells underneath their nose. It gave them all the faraway emotion of wanderlust. Only the kind that a pilot could understand.
