Vacy took a shuddery breath. "I think I need some more water," she said with a grin that managed to be much more relaxed than she actually felt. She sashayed her way back over to the speeder and picked up the canteen again, though this time she just took a few gulps, closed it up, and re-secured it under the seat.
"So!" she said, turning back to Corso. "How's this thing work, anyways?" She shoved her arms into her sleeves, buttoning the shirt back up as she walked over to him again, all business now.
Corso had fastened the controls around his left bracer. "Well, you can set it to give voice commands, but I'm kind of nervous about that. I mean, what if I say a command word just in conversation? Go flying fifty feet to the left and slam into a pack of Imperial commandos? No thanks!" As he spoke, he pressed a sequence of commands into the keypad. "I figure a one-point-five second burst will be just about what I need for an attack run. These things don't have a whole lot of juice, so I won't be able to use it for travel or anything; still need the speeder for that."
He pressed another button, and started a bit when the control chirped at him. "Guess it's ready, Captain!" he said with a bright grin. "How 'bout you? Ready to see my first solo test flight?"
Vacy chewed on her lower lip. "I'll, uh… I'll be back over here by the speeder," she said, thumbing over her shoulder at it.
Corso flipped Ms. Puffs' power strip on, and the jetpack whispered to life. "Awh, c'mon! Don't you trust me?"
Leaning against the speeder, Vacy smirked. "Why d'you think I never let you drive?" she retorted.
With a cough, he looked down, blushing furiously. "Well – ah – I think maybe I oughtn't answer that."
Vacy's brows arched and her jaw dropped.
"Right, so, uh, here we go!" Corso reached down and grabbed both stabilizers, pulling on the thrusters. There was a roar; the air around him shimmered and he let out something between a yell and a laugh as he rocketed into the sky.
Lifting her hand to shade her eyes, Vacy watched him soar upward for a few seconds. She frowned as she saw him list to the right; clearly in choosing not to let him drive the speeder, she'd made the right decision.
And then the jetpack coughed – sputtered – and went silent.
She could see him flailing in the air as he fell. It had to be nothing more than a boyish prank. Surely he'd regain control, buzz just over the ground, and then laugh at her when she chewed him out for making her worry.
But he didn't slow in the least, and when he hit the ground, sand sprayed up around the impact, and then everything was still.