5:50 P.M. Courage Cruiser

Bryan eyes calmly shifted to and from all ends of his vision, one by one, scanning the activity going on in the hangar. It felt like an ordinary day on a Rebel Cruiser, even though it wasn't. The maintenance crews were running tests and check-ups on the flight machinery. Sparks flew from the plasma torches as they bore down into durasteel. Techs shouted orders to one another while maintenance tugs rushed overhead from starfighter to starfighter, detaching them from the sides of the hangar and carrying them to open spots on the deck. The acrid smell of Gamlin Brand Oil irritated his nostrils, prompting Bryan to take short breaths. The torches were loud and grinding, as were the numerous other power tools the techs were using to rush last-
minute repairs to the ships. The combination of hot sparks and the layerof flight and jump suits Bryan had on made the hangar that much hotter. He could feel the sweat already starting to form on his temple.

Propping his flight helmet against his right hip, Bryan ducked under the long wing of a B-Wing, his eyes set on his X-Wing parked towards the front of the hangar.

"Hey Commander," said a tech on Bryan's right.

Bryan smiled at him for a second. "Hello." Continuing along, he greeted several other techs, and a few pilots, including Paul Darbles again, still with Diana Hayes, and looking rather cheerful. After what seemed like two miles, he reached his TIE-painted X-Wing, sitting in wait as some techs did their final checks on it. The fuel pipes were already detached and lay sprawled across the deck plating, dripping Brand Name Heral nitrogen-based fuel onto the duranium deck. The fuel was scentless. The only sound was the isolinear energy generator feeding power into the X-
Wing's systems, and cleaning out any technical glitches. "She looks wonderful, Heim," Bryan said in satisfaction as he did a once-over to his craft.

Heim Lass'sion, the Zolisian man who was the Courage's assistant Tech Officer, peeked out from behind the generator. When his dark purple eyes spotted Bryan, he stood up and smiled graciously. "'Hank eyou," he said, not using a translator; using his best English. He went back to his work.

Bryan stepped up to the side of the fuselage, taking a proud moment to admire the number of TIE Fighters that were painted onto it(indicating the number of kills Bryan had in his eleven years. Gold TIEs equaled ten, silver equaled five, black equaled one). A majority of them were gold with one silver and four blacks on this side. Once again, Bryan took a few seconds to tally up the kills painted on this side. Seventy-nine. He took in a breath, his heart applauding his success. The X-
Wing was more than an X-Wing to him, and it wasn't uncommon for pilots to become attached to their ship. Bryan had in his eleven years as a pilot for the Alliance. And this X-Wing had been his X-Wing the entire time, moving with him with every transfer. The ship was like a friend to him. Not as good a friend as Maxie, Molly, Justin, or especially Rosy, but still like a friend. Bryan knew it inside and out; when the engines were faulty, when the sensors were out of alignment. He knew when the ship had an "injury." He also noticed when something had changed; something was out of place now in the paint job—or rather something correct. "I see you even repaired the paint job," Bryan observed, gliding his hand along the red stripe that made its way across the lengthy snout of the fighter. Two weeks ago, a forth of the red paint near the cockpit—and a part of one of the black TIE's solar panels—had been chipped away, making the entire job look incomplete. Now it was perfect, looking as good and as fresh as the first day it had come off the manufacturing line. "You didn't have to do that. I woulda done it...thanks though."

"Ihs ill rite. Youw elcum," Heim responded.

It looks really good actually, Bryan thought to himself. Suddenly, from his left came several mechanical tones in quick rhythm, almost like a voice. Bryan turned to face his green and white astromech droid, which, him being a theater major when he was in college, he had named Puck in honor of the character from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. He grinned at the small robot. "Hey Puck. How are you today buddy?"

The droid gave a high, squeaky, joyous tone.

"That sounds good," Bryan said with a humorous snicker. "You ready ol' buddy?"

A regular, monotonic tone was the answer his time.

"Uh-oh. That didn't sound too happy."

Another tone.

Bryan chuckled. "I'm sure you're ready Puck. I was just askin.'" He turned to towards Heim. "Do you know if I got any messages from anyone, Heim?"

"Uhhh, I 'hink youw miy haave." Heim stood up and pointed beyond the X-Wing. "Barraachna."

Bryan followed the man's finger, and found it to be pointing to Barakna Iolvek, a female tech from the Deet species. She also managed all the pilots personal messages, so that way the Cruiser's crew itself didn't have to.

"Barraachna!" Heim called to her.

She turned. "What!" came a shouted translation to English.

"Briian masseges!"

She hesitated a moment, letting the translator do its job. "Oh." She reached down to her belt and pulled out two message chips. Then she started for Bryan, carrying the chips in her palm. "You got about two dozen messages from people, you know. You gotta stop being popular amongst half the pilots in the Rebellion. Its killing me to have to sort your messages."

Bryan gave her a "know-it-all" look. "Now Barakna, you know I can't do that."

"Of course not," she said jokingly, rolling her three eyes. She reached him and extended the chips. "They were all mostly 'good luck' messages. I moved almost all of them to the communications terminal in your room, so you can look at them after the battle."

He took the chips. "Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"How many are on these?"

"Just two. One from Calvin Deravin, and one from—" she changed her voice to a gossipy tone. "—Admiral Rodenski."

Bryan gave her a flat-eyed look. "Don't start." He took the video unit and plugged the chip from Emilie in first.

He activated the video monitor and turned on the chip. Soon, Emilie Rodenski's pretty face appeared on the screen. She started off the message with a smile. "Hey Bryan," she said brightly. "You've probably already gotten tons of these, so I'll make mine short as possible." Her smile became less wide and her brandy-brown eyes got a little more serious. "Be careful out there, and, you know, come back alive. Okay? Cool. Oh, and by the way, I know I said this before, but I don't need your help anymore talking about what happened at Deil Nine. Okay? Okay. Bye, and have fun out there." She smiled brightly again, and then the screen went blank.

Bryan laughed lightly, shook his head, and removed the chip from the monitor. Crazy girl, he thought. Sighing somewhat reluctantly, he plugged in the chip from Calvin Deravin.

The monitor brought out every wrinkle, every curve, and every iron feature of Deravin's serious but handsome face. "Hello Bryan. I'd just like to say again that I'm sorry for the remark I made to Admiral Rodenski about Deil Nine. However, at the same time I don't think it was right for you to single me out in front of my superiors and my peers."

Bryan blew air out his nose.

"Next time, do it in private, if you wouldn't mind. Unless you like hounding all the attention."

Bryan snickered again.

"Good luck out there," he finished, as stone-faced as he had been in the beginning of the message. The screen went blank again.

Bryan shook his head again and removed the chip. "What a guy. A bitch to the end I guess." He handed the two chips back to Barakna.

"I don't like him," she commented. "He's such a bastard."

Bryan nodded his agreement, then shrugged. "Oh well. Some are just like that. Just burn his and move Emilie's to the terminal in my room like the others please."

"You got it," she said, placing the chips back at her belt.

Bryan took the opportunity to extend his hand towards her. "Just for the record, you've been a marvelous message manager, my dear."

Barakna smiled gorgeously. "Thank you." She took his hand and they shook. "But we'll see each other again, I'm sure. You're the best pilot in the Rebellion, I'm the best...secondary techie. We'll both stay alive."

"Or so we hope," he answered, and they exchanged grins and broke the shake.

"Good luck," she told him.

"Thank you. You too."

"Thanks."

As she walked away, Bryan turned towards the power generator. "And good luck to you too, Heim!" he called.

"'Hank youw! Youw thoo!" Heim shouted over the generator's noise.

"Okay!" someone new shouted. "Let's get your astro droid in his socket, Commander!"

Bryan turned and saw Tech Supervisor Conner Tasar walking over to his X-Wing with another tech member and a lifting machine. He nodded and grinned. "Sure thing. Get ready Puck."

Puck tweedled his acknowledgment and started hobbling over to the lifting machine as Bryan made his way up the cockpit ladder to put his helmet down onto his seat for the time being. His anxiousness grew another level. It was now getting closer and closer...