Wedge's Advice
Pad 14, Rogue Group Manager's Office, Zhellday, 1500.
The workday before Minister Del'Andre's retirement ceremony.
Kess had to get out of here. And fast.
Datapads lay in an array across her desk, somewhat sorted in piles, but not really, and more cards piled around them. She was short on pads and had to use the same few to switch out cards and boot up data just to reference several reports and solve one problem.
And the problems compounded on each other. Parts to order. Inaccurate inventory records. Scheduling special equipment. Personnel randomly gone for medical appointments or family emergencies. And all the while, a Jedi Master Group Commander Hot Shot Pilot Farmboy who was bound to march right by her desk first thing in the morning and pound the GQ Drill Alarm, again stealing all the birds she was tasked to repair. She managed to sort more data and plan better attacks in the late afternoons and evenings. It was too bad she and the repair crew couldn't just work nights to get all this done.
But her evenings weren't free for that. None of them. Tonight especially. And not because they had some Jedi Training thing going on, but because Minister of State Del'Andre's retirement ceremony was tonight. And 'Master Luke' instructed that he'd pick her up early from the barracks so Kess could get her first taste of hobnobbing with politicians before the retirement ceremony commenced.
Kess propped her elbow on her desk and rubbed a weary eye, wishing she could cancel it, but recognizing maturely that hobnobbing with politicians was a key skill for any basic Jedi Knight - not to mention this was the one subject of the Jedi curriculum that she was far worse at than any of the others.
So severely disinterested in hobnobbing as she was, Kess rarely thought about this upcoming event more than simply blocking off the time on her calendar. And now that it was hardly hours away, she began to wonder how long it would take her to get ready for this damn -
"Oh shit!"
Kess dropped her back against her chair and stared with marble white eyes at Teak at his desk across the way.
The blue scales of his face shimmered with humor. His eyes glanced over.
Over at his own desk, Commander Antilles black mess of hair shifted when his head popped up from behind his terminal. "What?"
Kess turned her face to the Commander with all the self-ass-kicking-of-oversight this royal fuck up required. "I don't own a dress."
Black brows knitted, but the man's mouth rippled with humor. "Neither do I."
Teak cleared his throat. "I don't copy. Is that . . . customary?"
Kess whined at herself. "It's traditional . . . bullshit. Sorry." With a groan, she pushed against the armrests to sit back up in her desk chair. "Either of you know a place I can get a set of dress khaki's cleaned in an hour?"
Commander Antilles climbed out of his desk with a datapad en route to someplace else and strutted up to hers on his way out. "I would suggest to just wear your flight suit, but I'm a little too curious what you would look like not covered in grease."
Kess smiled at his playfulness. If she knew him better, she would have scoffed back, "fuck you," but she didn't. To Kess, Wedge Antilles still carried the invisible badge of the rebel who destroyed the second Death Star. For that, Kess awarded the man a greater respect and reverence than most other pilots she knew.
Wedge smirked and punched open the door.
"Wait. Are you going to the reception?"
He paused at the door jam. "Me? No. Why?"
"Then how would you see if I got cleaned up for tonight?" She challenged with a daring arch of her brow.
He hitched a laugh and dropped his shoulder to the wall. "You think the press isn't going to be there taking photocaps of the two Jedi on their first date, you're crazy."
"It isn't a date," she said quickly, then muttered. "Believe me: he has made that painfully clear."
Wedge smiled with friendly respect. "Copy that," and added as he turned to leave. "Now let's see if you can convince the press." He punctuated it with a silly face and left.
Kess buried her face in both palms. The burn of Luke's silent punishment for the Radio Free Yavin prank was still glowing hot in her soul. This Jedi shit was becoming unbearable. Not only did she have to be good in public and private, but she wasn't even allowed to want it any other way. Kess was beginning to feel like she was always on trial.
What she needed more than anything was to be able to talk to someone freely, without receiving judgment; someone who would respond with acceptance of her plight, someone trustworthy enough to keep it all confidential, and mature enough to still give her sage advice at the end.
Too bad grandpa wasn't here.
But the moment she listened to the Force, she realized someone else was.
"Commander?" Kess shot out of her desk chair and rushed out the Manager's Office to see where he went. He was half way to the muster room doors already, but stopped his boots on the duracrete to look back at her approach. Kess trotted up to him, and then caught her throat not sure how to word her request. Finally, timidly, she motioned to the nearby door of the locker room. "Do you have a minute?"
There was a flicker of uncertainty, but Commander Antilles shrugged it off and stepped to gesture her over. Kess closed the door behind them both, alone, and second-guessed what she was doing as she turned to address him.
"You alright?" Friendly care knit his brow.
"I'm sorry, I know this isn't any of your concern but—
Wedge grinned at the floor, and peeked up. He expected this was going to come sooner or later.
"I um . . . I need some advice. Off the record and completely confidential. Shipmate to shipmate kinda thing. Are you okay with that?"
"Sure."
"I got in serious trouble for that joke on the air, even though I'm not the one that did it, nor do I know who it was that did, but I'm the one that got slammed for it."
Wedge shrugged. "He just took it a little too personally."
"He doesn't like people thinking he's human?"
Wedge cringed a little, trying not to admit the truth of that. "Right now I think he's more worried that you don't think he's human."
Her frustrations spilled out in a yelling, cussing, babble. "How the fuck am I supposed to convince everyone else I'm not interested in him if I can't even convince him of that?"
This almost-as-stoic Commander's confused brow-knit crashed into a tight snicker at her outburst. His laugh continued in a breathy giggle to watch her face turn red with embarrassment. "Wow. You've been holding that in for a long time."
Flushing, Kess tried to hide her pink cheeks with a hand, but smiled in spite of it. "Sorry."
"No, it's fine." Wedge was still coming down from his laugh. "He kinda has that affect on people."
"What part?"
"The part where you're always second-guessing yourself." He shifted on his feet and said it straight. "The part where you're always feeling judged."
Her flush went from silly to serious, and now it burned.
Wedge shrugged. "But it only lasts as long until you get to know him, and you realize," he shrugged again, "Luke doesn't judge. He just doesn't. And he's likely not second-guessing you nearly as much as you second-guess yourself."
Her eyes hung on nothing in the air. Kess drew in a slow sigh and cleansed her lungs and mind with it.
Wedge angled his head and pointed it out, "He is human. . . . He just needs to learn that a little."
"Yeah, I know. Least I keep trying to tell myself that." Then she smiled at this man's kindness. "He's kind of a . . . an icon. . . Y'know?"
"Yeah," Wedge murmured with deep agreement. "I know."
She hitched a new smile. "Maybe I should wear my flight suit tonight. Just to convince him and the galaxy that I'm not trying to—"
"Won't work." To this, Wedge smirked.
"No? Why not?"
The man thought on that one for a long moment before responding. "Because you can't put a coat of paint on a broken bird and expect it to fly."
In other words, pretending it isn't true isn't going to help. It has to not be true.
And now Kess was back to the part about being always on trial, in public or private, with no leeway to even dream about what she wanted to do instead. . . .
"But there is one thing you can do that would convince him and the rest of the galaxy." He offered brightly as he shifted to move for the door, adding in a low voice as a reminder of the fine print, "Since we're talking off the record and completely confidential."
"What's that?" She turned curious eyes to follow his path by her, and that's where his feet stopped.
Wedge angled over an inch to share a secret suggestion and lowered his voice to a husky smoothness. "You could always just date someone else."
Kess realized he was flirting and it made her heart flutter. She already knew him well enough that, on any outings she might accompany Wedge, her flight suit would be acceptable, if not perfectly appropriate. No one to judge. Nothing to second-guess. Entirely accepted as the person Kess already was.
The fantasy felt glorious.
Unsure how to respond, she bit her lower lip with her smiling teeth and tucked her flushing face to the floor. Soon, her eyes flicked back up to see if he was serious, if she was reading this message correctly, and she tried using her fledgling senses to learn Wedge's true intent. Was he just another pilot on the prowl? Or was he seriously interested? Either way, Kess's brain blossomed at the alternate fantasy.
Wedge backed up, smug and cocky, perfectly confident leaving this ball in her court, and shrugged again. "Just a thought."
With a wink, he grinned once more and left the locker room.
