Well folks, here I am again, writing for a fandom I never imagined I would ever write for! But I'm going for it because I have so many ideas swirling around in my head its driving me crazy. Okay, now I love SW as much as everyone else but I'm not exactly up to par on my SW lingo so I'm going to try my damndest to get it right!
This story takes place before TFA...
She watched from the front of the large, landscape room as the man wove in between the men and women that filled it. Each of them was paired up, sparring with one another, hand-to-hand. The man watched each and every single move that was made, scrutinizing the new students. She was also vigil, seeing if any of the students got sloppy but she kept her feet planted where they were. The man, their teacher, stopped occasionally to adjust an arm or show the proper way to make a certain strike.
"Marv! Use the heel of your palm! Tolko, remember to keep that arm at a right angle to help keep a decent amount of space between yourself and your attacker. Ah-ha! Very nice form, Halia! Use your opponent's energy against them."
These cheers of endearment from the man brought a small smile to the corner of her mouth. This was one of the many reasons his students loved and admired him. The man in question was older, yes, with thinning hair and a scruffy beard that was graying but he was broad and strong – body and mind. He treated his students like they were his own children. He was easy-going and friendly but also fierce and protective when he needed to be.
That was who Jerek Zavari was to the Resistance. Who his daughter, Maverick Zavari, esteemed to be. Not only was she Jerek's daughter, but she was also his mentee. That's why she stood and watched in silence. Because it was her day to watch, listen and analyze her father and learn from him. Although the title of 'Father' always came before the title of "Mentor". From a young age, Mavericks father taught her how to defend herself. Maverick didn't always see fighting as something violent. She looked at it as if it were an artform that needed to be mastered over time with practice and patience. Even though things were different now with all of the viciousness that this war with the Imperialists – who now went by the name of The First Order – brought. When Maverick turned eighteen, she begged her father to make her his mentee: to teach her more than just the basics and of course, special one-on-one training sessions. With reluctance, he agreed. Jerek was the main trainer in combat skills for the Resistance after all, teaching them everything from hand-to-hand combat to how to shoot a blaster. Jerek wasn't the only trainer in combat, just the senior trainer. He started to bring Maverick to his classes, telling her to sit, be still, be quiet but most of all, be observant. And that's exactly what she did. Now seven years later – with several bumps, bruises and scars along the way– she was teaching these rebels on her own. Maverick even led small covert missions to planets with small groups of fighters to test their skills and see how they would handle themselves in a real fight scenario. They only dealt with things such as taking down pirates or dirty smugglers who allocated themselves with known enemies of the Resistance.
That was another reason why she wasn't helping with the sparring lessons today: she had a mission tomorrow and as she stood there, bare feet planted on the blue matted floor with arms crossed over her chest, her mind wandered to when, where and how everything would be executed. She'd come up with the plans herself, overlooked by her father, of course. So far, she had twenty-nine successful missions under her blaster belt. And she didn't intend on tomorrow's mission to interrupt that streak. It was the only thing she really had the right to brag about. Maverick and her father didn't have any specific rankings among those at the base, which left them both with low profiles which didn't bother her. It also meant no uniform, an added bonus. And because she had to go on so many covert missions, she really didn't have the rebellion symbol stitched or embroidered onto any of her clothing. Maybe one or two.
Maverick had gotten so lost in her thoughts, that she almost struck the person who had taken her off guard by lightly bumping her on the shoulder. But her composure relaxed once her eyes met the same dark green ones that looked down at her. Jerek held amusement in his gaze and some concern as she shook out her tense muscles before refolding her arms across her chest. When he wouldn't stop smirking and staring, she shoved him with her own shoulder.
"What were you thinking about, Bruiser?"
Maverick gave Jerek a sidelong look when he regarded her by her lifelong and humiliating nickname. It stemmed all the way back to her childhood memories on their home planet: a boy from her small village had to tried to kiss her and her response was to sucker punch him. The outcome had been a boy with a broken nose, black and blue eye for two weeks and a proud father.
"Chip off the ole' block," he had said after they had gotten back to their tiny house. The memory made her quirk her lips ever so slightly, though, her gaze continued to roam over the sparring pairs in front of her.
"I was just thinking of my combat mission tomorrow." She looked up at her father. "Has command told you anything else that we should anticipate?" Jerek shook his head in response to her question.
"Nothing has changed since the briefing last night. There will be one more tomorrow morning two hours before you set off with your team. One that you will be responsible of." Maverick nodded, making the small bun at the nap of her neck brush against her skin. They both turned their heads back to the room in front of them.
The mission was to get surveillance on a ring of pirates who were somehow getting fuel. Lots of fuel. They needed to find out where they were getting this fuel from and who they might be selling it to for a pretty sum of units. Once they were able to retrieve this information, then they were to take out their operation and get as much of that fuel for the Resistance as possible. Fuel was getting harder and harder to come by these days, what with the new Imperialists using most of it to power their Stardestroyers and other, larger fleets. The Resistance needed them for transports, frigates, fighters, bombers, emergency evac ships, cargos… the list goes on and on.
"Is your team ready for a mission like this?" Jerek asked, skepticism in his voice. "This one is slightly different than all the others. We aren't dropping you off in a situation that's already blown out of proportion and you run out with blasters blazing. This mission is stealth, interrogation and combat." Maverick placed her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
"Yes, I am aware of that and I'm confident they're ready."
"And you?" Maverick started at the question and looked up at her father with knitted brows. "Are you ready for a mission of this capacity? It's alright if you're not. I can—
"I'm ready." She cut Jerek off before he could finish. I can take over the mission if you want, is what he was going to say. She was annoyed and a little offended he had even tried to ask that. Maverick felt like she had taken down much worse than some pirates smuggling fuel. Granted, this mission required a little more precision and strategy than just throwing some punches and pulling the trigger of a blaster. That's what made this mission a landmark. It would show that she was more than just a fighter. She felt her father staring down at her but she just kept her gaze on the class. Her eyes stopped on a pair: a male with green tinted skin and a human male. Hand-to-hand, they exchanged blocks and hits. In a swift movement, the human male gained the upper hand and flipped his opponent onto his back, hitting the mats with a smack. Maverick let out a sigh and walked over to the two men. The green male was still on the floor and panting by the time she reached them. When he saw her, he made a move to get up but Maverick stuck out her hand signaling him to stay where he was. He dropped back down to the mat, staring up at the ceiling. Maverick turned to the man still standing.
"Naral, correct?" she asked with a small jerk of her chin.
"Yes, Ma'am." Maverick usually only had the trainee's call her that on missions but she was growing used to it. "Okay, Naral. You did well. You got a little sloppy at some points and I'm guessing a bit of fatigue was catching up with you but you regained your composure to make your final move." She looked down at the green skinned male. "Uoala?" The male opened his eyes to reveal dark orbs that stared back up at her. He gave her a curt nod in acknowledgment. "You also did well." Uoala propped himself up on his elbows and Maverick squatted down so that she was eye level with him. "But just because your down doesn't always mean that your fight is over." She gestured for him to scoot over on the mat and Maverick placed herself where he just was a second ago. She looked over to Uoala.
"This is a little bit advanced for beginner training but I don't mind teaching the cool stuff ahead of time every now and then," she said giving him a smirk. Uoala smiled back showing off two rows of fine pointed teeth. "When attacking from the ground, you want to judge your distance between yourself and your opponent. In this case," she paused to look up, "Naral is directly above you." Naral stared down at them looking a little unnerved. Maverick turned her attention back to herself, her own body posture. She laid fully on her back on the mat. She continued to talk to Uoala in a slightly quieter tone.
"You're going to use both feet to give a kick square in the chest, bracing your forearms and using your hips for momentum and power." Before either man could take their next breath, Maverick braced the back of her forearms on the mat, locking her legs tightly together and lifted up off the ground with her hips. The soles of her feet projected straight for Naral's chest and he let out a grunt of discomfort and stumbled slightly when her feet made the connection. Still braced on her forearms, Maverick hooked her right foot behind Naral's knee and brought him down. Uoala shot straight up, staring at Naral with wide eyes. Maverick turned her head to him and smiled.
"Something like that," she said, her voice steady and a bit elated from the adrenaline. Uoala just nodded and they both stood up. She looked down at Naral, her smile dimming. He was lucky that she didn't apply all her momentum into that kick or else he'd have a fractured sternum. She extended a hand down to him. "No hard feelings, I hope?" Naral slapped his hand in hers and she hoisted him to his feet. He slightly rubbed his chest but let out a small laugh.
"No, Ma'am." Maverick placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a closed lip smile.
"Alright everyone! Good work today!" Jerek's voice boomed loudly through the large room. "Remember that there will be no training tomorrow due to the mission with the senior combat students. I'm also cancelling class the day after, so go and get some rest. You've all earned it."
Maverick gave Uoala and Naral small nods with a smile as they left the training area along with all the others.
"Very nice demonstration, Bruiser," Jerek said as he walked over to her. His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Her father didn't exactly like it when she did something unexpected during class. She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips as she turned to face him.
"Well, sometimes they need to see how the professionals do it so that they have the motivation to execute something like it one day themselves." She flashed her father a brilliant white smile. A baritone laugh escaped Jerek's throat.
"Of course, my dear Mentee. But from a father's point of view, maybe you should stop hurting men all the time or else that smile would capture every one of their hearts."
"Kriff! Dad!" she gave him a playful punch in the arm. Jerek only laughed harder. Maverick had actually been in a relationship. A long one. But things just didn't, no, couldn't work out. Maverick was still training, still learning and when she was in the relationship. She thought what she felt was love but what she actually felt was trapped. Jerek must have noticed Maverick's attention was wavering because he nipped her under the chin with his finger. She laughed and swatted his hand away.
"That smile and that laugh. It's how your Mother captured my own heart, you know."
Maverick's smile faltered at the mention of her mother, Haleen. She died back on their home plant when Maverick was only six years old. Maverick thought of her mother every night before she fell asleep so that she wouldn't forget certain things about her: her voice and laugh, pale brown eyes, her soft, dark brunette wavy hair which she had passed on to Maverick. Her mother had always worn her hair long and flowing free, which is why Maverick always kept her waves shoulder length and usually pulled back at the nape of her neck. Maverick cleared her throat before speaking and focused back on her father, changing the subject.
"It's nearly time for dinner and I'm sure that Nora is cooking something delicious. Go. Get a head start home for the evening. I'll clean this place up." Jerek gave his daughter a small smile and leaned forward, giving her a feather light kiss on her temple.
"Thank you, Mav." She nodded and he turned to leave. The moment he walked out the door, she closed her eyes tight to hold back the threat of tears and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. Nora was Maverick's step-mother. She and Jerek had met her a few years after they had joined the Rebellion. Nora was a lovely woman and she had been with Jerek for so long now that Maverick would always consider her family. She also happened to be the mother of Maverick's ten-year-old half-sister, Eva. Though Nora tried very hard to be that mother figure Maverick never had growing up, she couldn't fill that void within her life.
Maverick pulled herself back to reality and went to grab a bucket and mop. She cleaned the floor mats and once they dried, she folded them up and stored them away in one of the set-in wall cabinets. Once that was done, she dumped the disgusting mop water into the large mop sink in an attached storage room and then padded across the concrete floor to put her boots on. She laced the old beat up shoes loosely and then locked up the training room for the evening. Walking out into the hall, there were no windows to show the sun that was getting lower in the sky and all Maverick wanted was to breathe in some fresh air. She walked down the different halls of the Resistance base, passing by several people, to whom she gave curt acknowledgments. Just as she reached up and pulled her hair free of her bun, several loud alarms rang out. Maverick froze and looked around the hallway. She was alone. Her hand instinctively went to the blaster that was strapped to her thigh. A loud voice rang out from the speakers above:
"BLACK SQUADRON REPORT TO THE HANGAR IMMEDIATELY. ALL OTHER AUTHORIZED AND NEEDED PERSONNEL REPORT AS WELL."
Maverick's hand relaxed away from her blaster but her heart rate remained rapid. She couldn't help thinking to herself that D-Qar could be under attack and the fighters were headed out as the first line of defense to buy some time. She thought of her father, Nora and Eva. The panic was overwhelming and Maverick felt sick. She leaned against the wall and put her head down.
"Stop it," she whispered to herself. "Nothing is wrong. The base is secure. The fighters get called out all the time. It's no different than the other fifty-thousand times you've heard them get called out so snap out of it, Laserbrain." Maverick took two steadying breaths before standing up straight again. Even after so many years of what happened on her home planet, she was still paranoid about never being safe. She let out a grunt of annoyance and turned to walk again but the sound of fast approaching footsteps echoing behind her made her stop again. Just as she looked over her shoulder, several men and women in uniform and orange jumpers rounded one of the corners. There were several exits out of the base from here and it just so happened Maverick and the needed personnel were going the same way. Maverick moved out of the way, back against the wall again.
They rushed by Maverick, not even giving her so much as a glance to acknowledge her presence. Within the group, Astromechs were at their feet, charging forward in a borage of whirring and beeping, following their masters. Eva came to Mavericks mind as she looked at each of the Astromechs. Her sister loved the droids and wanted one of her own someday.
"Let's move, Black Squadron!" a voice commanded loudly, bringing Maverick out of her little reverie. She looked up to the owner of the voice and thought it was quite comical because he seemed to be the squadrons leader, due to his orange jumper, yet he was the one lagging behind. A series of high toned beeps and blips came from down the hall and the man stopped in his tracks, a few steps away from where Maverick stood, to turn towards an Astromech that was whirring down the hall.
"C'mon Buddy, we need to go!"
The Astromech, a BB unit, let out another series of beeps that let his master know that it wasn't his fault they were behind the group. Maverick covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. She had never heard an astromech talk like that to his or her master before. The BB unit, though, sped up a little faster to reach his master. In a matter of seconds, the little droid whirred past her and the pilot. He turned to follow but stopped when he saw Maverick standing against the wall. She dropped her hand from her mouth, smile wiped from her face. With his face turned completely towards her, she had a moment to actually look at him. Handsome.
As soon as the thought filled her head, she wanted to slap herself. Pilots were nothing but trouble, cocky and arrogant. Exactly the kind of thing she didn't need in her life after her last nightmare of a relationship. It was probably odd for him to see someone around the base not in a uniform of some kind to identify who they were but he nonetheless gave her a quick nod of thanks for letting them all pass by. Maverick returned the nod and the pilot sprinted away. Once he disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall, she let out a breath she hasn't realized she'd been holding. Handsome and considerate. She huffed out a small cynical laugh. Her father would never approve of a pilot. She pushed away from the wall and was surprised by how tense her body had become. Maverick did little exercises to relax her muscles as she continued to walk towards her exit. Finally, she reached the door to the outside world.
Maverick burst through the door and stood outside with her head held high. The setting sun kissed her face, warming her chilled skin. The fresh air helped relax the rest of her tense muscles as she inhaled deeply. The sky had turned to different shades of purple, red and pink as the darkness of night approached. Maverick walked and as she crested a grassy hill on her way, she heard the roar of engines from behind her. Just as she turned, shielding her eyes from the last bright rays of sunshine, several X-Wings flew overhead, still close to the ground. Strong gusts of wind tore through the air around Maverick, making her hair whip in all directions and ruffling her clothes. She turned back around, pushing the hair out of her face and watched the X-Wings ascend towards the planet's atmosphere. She stared at them until they were tiny specks and then disappeared altogether.
"Good Luck and may the Force be with you," she whispered.