Title: A New Path
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.
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Chapter 3: An Old Friend
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Tycho forced a smile as he, Detar, and the rest of their squadron mates alighted from the transport shuttle. It had been a grueling six weeks since his home's destruction, and he was officially exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The Inhibitor hadn't seen battle in those six weeks, and he was grateful. He didn't think he could have risked his life fighting for a government he no longer believed in.
He was especially grateful that the Emperor hadn't seen fit to involve them in whatever had happened in the Yavin System. He'd heard that the Death Star had been destroyed there, and had secretly rejoiced upon hearing that news, though he didn't know any details - or even if the rumor was true.
Now they had been given a week's leave on the planet Thyferra, and he knew this was his best chance to leave the Empire behind. If only he could figure out how to do that. He still had no idea.
Just as his boot connected with the durasteel floor of the docking bay, he heard a woman calling him. "Tycho! Tycho Celchu!"
Turning, he could not believe his eyes as he saw someone he hadn't seen in years. A woman in black pants and boots and a tight, sleeveless red shirt and black vest was coming toward him. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her petite stature was, he knew, as misleading as her model looks. As she came closer, he could see the familiar passion in her deep green eyes.
He had grown up with Jesina Dreis, and knew her well. She had her Alderaanian mother's mannerisms, poise, and beauty, and her Corellian father's attitude, temper, and piloting skill.
When they were fifteen, her parents had been killed when the ship they were traveling on had fallen prey to pirates. She'd left Alderaan, heading for Corellia, where her father's sister still lived. But she'd been restless, full of anger, and soon turned her skills to a typical Corellian profession - smuggling.
Detar's low whistle dragged his thoughts from the past back to the present. "Who is that?" the pilot asked.
"And what is a girl like that doing in a place like this?" Setyn asked.
"Too dangerous," Kev chimed in. "Maybe we should, ah, offer her our protection," he suggested, raising his eyebrows comically.
Tycho just shook his head and struggled to hold back his laughter. The modified heavy blaster on her right hip was not just for show, and he knew there was a vibroblade strapped to her left leg, just below the knee. He also knew that her vest concealed at least one or two other weapons, all of which she was extremely skilled with.
He chuckled to himself and wondered how his friends would feel if he were to tell them that this woman was more than capable of handling herself - and had, in many rougher places than this. Or that she could fly circles around any of them.
He quickly crossed the bay and enveloped her in his arms. "What are you doing here, Jes?" he whispered.
"I'll explain later," she replied in a low voice. Louder she said, "When you told me you were going on leave, I thought I'd surprise you." She bit her lip and smiled coyly. "I've, ah, got a room in town," she murmured.
He turned to his squadron mates, who were snickering amongst themselves. "I'll see you guys later."
As he spoke, he caught Detar's eye. When the other man gave him a sad smile, Tycho knew that his wingman knew he wouldn't be back. He also knew he could count on him not to blow the whistle on him. Then he slipped his arm around Jesina's waist and walked away from the life he'd spent so long building for himself.
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.
* * * * * * *
Chapter 3: An Old Friend
* * * * * * *
Tycho forced a smile as he, Detar, and the rest of their squadron mates alighted from the transport shuttle. It had been a grueling six weeks since his home's destruction, and he was officially exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The Inhibitor hadn't seen battle in those six weeks, and he was grateful. He didn't think he could have risked his life fighting for a government he no longer believed in.
He was especially grateful that the Emperor hadn't seen fit to involve them in whatever had happened in the Yavin System. He'd heard that the Death Star had been destroyed there, and had secretly rejoiced upon hearing that news, though he didn't know any details - or even if the rumor was true.
Now they had been given a week's leave on the planet Thyferra, and he knew this was his best chance to leave the Empire behind. If only he could figure out how to do that. He still had no idea.
Just as his boot connected with the durasteel floor of the docking bay, he heard a woman calling him. "Tycho! Tycho Celchu!"
Turning, he could not believe his eyes as he saw someone he hadn't seen in years. A woman in black pants and boots and a tight, sleeveless red shirt and black vest was coming toward him. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her petite stature was, he knew, as misleading as her model looks. As she came closer, he could see the familiar passion in her deep green eyes.
He had grown up with Jesina Dreis, and knew her well. She had her Alderaanian mother's mannerisms, poise, and beauty, and her Corellian father's attitude, temper, and piloting skill.
When they were fifteen, her parents had been killed when the ship they were traveling on had fallen prey to pirates. She'd left Alderaan, heading for Corellia, where her father's sister still lived. But she'd been restless, full of anger, and soon turned her skills to a typical Corellian profession - smuggling.
Detar's low whistle dragged his thoughts from the past back to the present. "Who is that?" the pilot asked.
"And what is a girl like that doing in a place like this?" Setyn asked.
"Too dangerous," Kev chimed in. "Maybe we should, ah, offer her our protection," he suggested, raising his eyebrows comically.
Tycho just shook his head and struggled to hold back his laughter. The modified heavy blaster on her right hip was not just for show, and he knew there was a vibroblade strapped to her left leg, just below the knee. He also knew that her vest concealed at least one or two other weapons, all of which she was extremely skilled with.
He chuckled to himself and wondered how his friends would feel if he were to tell them that this woman was more than capable of handling herself - and had, in many rougher places than this. Or that she could fly circles around any of them.
He quickly crossed the bay and enveloped her in his arms. "What are you doing here, Jes?" he whispered.
"I'll explain later," she replied in a low voice. Louder she said, "When you told me you were going on leave, I thought I'd surprise you." She bit her lip and smiled coyly. "I've, ah, got a room in town," she murmured.
He turned to his squadron mates, who were snickering amongst themselves. "I'll see you guys later."
As he spoke, he caught Detar's eye. When the other man gave him a sad smile, Tycho knew that his wingman knew he wouldn't be back. He also knew he could count on him not to blow the whistle on him. Then he slipped his arm around Jesina's waist and walked away from the life he'd spent so long building for himself.