Chapter: 4

Leroy and Dano stood together on the Kiss of Life's busy observation deck, gazing out the forward viewports at the growing sphere of swirling greens and browns that was Naboo.

"Ever been here before?" the XO asked, shooting his friend a glance.

Leroy shook his head. "Nope – first time. We've all heard the stories, though – Clone Wars and all."

"Not much has happened here since then." Dano folded his arms, studying the planet critically. "Lucky them, being on the galaxy's outskirts. Or close enough."

Leroy wrapped his hands around the low rail which lined the five–foot drop into the communications pit. Below him, techs and officers of all races and gender scurried about, gathering intel from and transmitting it to the fleet.

"Peace is their defining virtue," the Commander said, still watching the growing planet. "They would have stayed out of it no matter what."

"This war? Not for long they wouldn't." Dano's tone was cynical, but his assessment was accurate. "Either they resist and fight with us now, or they refuse and fight for the Vong later. But they will fight either way."

"Shame, huh?" Leroy trailed fingers on the cold durasteel, relishing the smooth metal beneath his fingertips. "Breaking an age–old tradition?"

Dano raked the fingers of both hands back through his hair, then folded them behind his head. "I suppose. Might teach them a thing or two about self–preservation. Do you know what our role in the defense stratagem will be, by the way?"

The way he worded it made Leroy smile. The Commander shook his head. "I've received no orders as yet. I can only assume that we'll be held in reserve, considering our short–handedness and lack of experience."

Dano grinned, and Leroy could see it without looking directly at the taller man.

"In that case, make the newbies wait behind," the XO said. "You and I will fly with the Rogues and take care of the real business. We'll leave Seth with a pack of Sabbacc cards – just so he doesn't get bored enough to complain."

Leroy snorted. "If only it was that simple to appease him."

"He still after you?" Dano asked, raising his eyebrows. He returned his hands to his hips.

"I haven't heard anything since our little chat in the training bay," Leroy replied easily. "But I've gotten the distinct sense that he's still not thrilled with the way things are. At least he's keeping it to himself."

Dano folded his arms again and turned to lean his buttocks on the rail.

"Let him sulk," the XO said, and he was being serious. "Part of learning to submit to authority is dealing with personal issues on your own. Seth's smart, Leroy – he'll realize eventually that he's the only one taking issue with our methods, and then he'll look for the source of that indignation and realize it's just his damn Corellian pride."

Leroy nodded mutely. He'd suffered from "Corellian Pride" in his youth as well. It was painfully embarrassing to think about it now – especially in comparison to Seth's attitude.

"The kid's not about to rebel, Leroy," Dano continued. "He'll follow orders – that's been bred into him. And he's scared too, I know that for a fact. When push comes to shove, he'll look to you for leadership, because he'll be pissing his flightsuit without it."

"Nice illustration," Leroy said, pushing himself off the rail to stand upright. "I know what you mean though. I'm not really worried about it now – he's been holding his tongue, and that's all I can ask."

Dano wasn't looking at him anymore: his dark gaze was fixed at a point beyond Leroy's shoulder, deeper into the bridge. "Company," the XO announced softly.

Leroy turned on his heel and immediately snapped to attention. He felt Dano do the same, and they both held their salutes until Admiral Phillip Creel had returned them.

"At ease, gentlemen," he said.

Leroy folded his hands at his waist and shifted his weight. "What can I do for you, Admiral?"

Creel smiled slowly, looking them both over. For a long moment, he said nothing, and although Leroy knew Creel wasn't the type to play the intimidation game, he felt himself growing nervous beneath the scrutiny.

As it was, the man was intimidating without even trying. Tall, but not as tall as Dano, he was statuesque and proud, and he held himself as such. His white Admiral's uniform was pristine: the high collar and slits in the sleeves were lined with gold, and the rank insignias displayed on his breast were polished to shine.

"Suit up, Gentlemen," the Admiral said abruptly, as though he had suddenly realized just where he was. "Have your squadron ready for some precision flying in fifteen minutes. I'll alert the hangar of your impending departure."

Leroy couldn't stop the frown from crawling over his face. "Begging your pardon, sir, but the shorthanded Wing I do have has been through extensive training in maneuvers already –"

"Commander Corsurge," Creel said pointedly, breaking in before he could finish. But he wasn't angry: the smile was still in place.

"You will have an observer," he said, and the way he said it made it immediately clear that the unnamed "observer" would be someone of high esteem – someone that Creel wanted to impress. Basically, it meant that he would be giving the observer an extensive tour of the cleanest portions of the Kiss and parading his prized fighter squadrons one by one just for the praise.

Fighting a grimace, Leroy snapped a salute. "Of course, sir."

Creel nodded sharply. "Quickly, Commander. Dismissed."

The two pilots about–faced and marched quickly away, towards the turbolift that would take them to the hangar. Creel remained behind, taking up the spot at the rail where they had stood studying the distant planet ahead.

"'Observer'?" Dano questioned as they threaded their way through the moving jumble of officers and engineers alike.

"No idea," Leroy replied. He was curious too, but was more concerned about rounding up his pilots within the fifteen minute time increment Creel had allowed for. It would take at least that long for them to warm up the fighters and obtain necessary clearance to leave the hangar.

Dano snorted a laugh, somewhere immediately behind him.

Leroy shot a look at the tall man over his shoulder. "What?"

The XO's eyes were alight with laughter. "You," he replied. "I can already see you tensing up, and you're not even in the cockpit yet."

"I am not," Leroy retorted indignantly, lengthening his strides so that Dano couldn't catch up. It was difficult, as the XO had longer legs than he did.

"Deeeniiiaaal," Dano replied in a singsong voice.

Leia Organa Solo stood alone on the bridge of the Kiss of Life, wondering if she had acted rashly in proposing her argument to the Council.

Many things had changed since the Far Outsiders had invaded the galaxy. Alliances, policies, technology – all of it to fight back. The treaty signed between Imperial remnants and the New Republic had taken effect barely a week prior, and it had taken that length of time for the Vong to push the fleet all the way back to Naboo.

Leia's confidence came from the Jedi. Luke, her brother, and his disciples had backed her decision for the Council to see. That didn't mean that the path would be easy, but the fact that all of the Jedi were in agreement meant something – it had been a long, long time since they had all been in one accord.

And even longer since we felt right about anything. Yet I'm still worried.

She stared out the viewport at the planet orbiting silently in space, just over a thousand kilometers away from the Kiss. Naboo's gravity was holding the fleet in place now: they would pass into the planet's nightside as temporary satellites within the hour.

Alas, a significant factor that had reinforced her decision: Naboo itself.

Although she had not been born there, the planet technically was a home. The mother Leia had never known – save in fleeting glimpses of memory – had called the planet her own. The connection Leia felt for Naboo was more sentimental than anything, but it was a powerful draw nevertheless.

With the loss of Alderaan, where she had grown up, Naboo had become a sort of project for Leia. After all, it was the planet that her mother had loved. Leia had determined to herself that she would not let Naboo fall to the Vong – for reasons both political and personal.

But she kept questioning herself.

If she just needed the planet itself for its sentimental value, her motivation was off drastically. She had convinced herself that it wasn't that, mainly because emotion had never gotten in the way of her duties before. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if it was attachment that drove her – much as her husband seemed to be bound to the Millennium Falcon.

No, it's the people that concern me – people to whom I'm most likely related. If all else fails, we'll call for a planet–wide evacuation and just… leave.

Losing Naboo would only add another tick mark to the growing tally of Vong–conquered planets, but it was certainly better than surrendering an entire population.

And so her proposition to the Council had been thus: that the fleet remain to defend Naboo in the hopes of gaining an ally and breaking the Vong forces once and for all. Both hopes were relatively far–fetched, but Leia had set the bar high just so that they couldn't be disappointed by the results.

Even if they won but a minor victory, Leia reasoned, it would be something – if only a setback for the Vong. And even if they couldn't convince the Naboo to join the fight, at least the Alliance would prevent their extinction.

Leia sighed so heavily it was painful.

Time and time again, the Vong had succeeded in backing them into corners, but in the end, the Alliance had always managed to get out of difficult situations. Somehow or another, they always came back to fight another day.

We've always been rebels, she thought, smiling faintly as she remembered the old days of the Rebellion. We've always lived just to die another day.

Now, however, the situation looked bleak.

First of all, they were separated from a good percentage of their force – namely the Imperial Remnant, but a good chunk of the Republic fleet had been scattered as well. Locating them wouldn't be difficult: it would be reuniting that would test their wits. Any communications they sent were sure to be picked up by whatever organic devices the Vong used for relaying orders and observations.

Secondly, they had lost so many during the previous battle, and during the retreat they had suffered large numbers of casualties in skirmishes as well. The fleet had been harassed constantly by daring pockets of Vong coralskippers attacking like pirates all along the way.

They would randomly drop in on us from deep space without warning. Somehow, they would just know where we were headed. They anticipated our every move.

Everyone had lived in constant fear during the retreat – fear that the Vong would drop in on top of them and slaughter every last one of them.

Leia kneaded her forehead with a fist, feeling exhausted and aggravated with herself for being unable to remain undistracted.

Enough. This is the first time in days you haven't had to think about what you're doing, and what do you do? You think. Stop it. Relax. Take a deep breath and just… enjoy what you're doing at the moment. Once that's done, you can go back to worrying again.

She lifted her head and forced herself to think nothing.

Out the forward viewport, she relocated the pinpricks of steel and light that were Commander Leroy Corsurge's A-Wing squad. The fighters were nearly impossible to track as they sped through the fleet, twisting, dodging, and weaving around frigates and cruisers.

In the days of her youth, such images of heroism might have taken her breath away. She might once have been awestruck by Commander Corsurge and his pilots as they trained and prepared themselves for war. As a girl, dying in battle had seemed glorious and honorable – the only worthy type of death – and she might have fancied someday marrying a war hero who was strong and respectable, a capable leader and defender.

She smiled wearily – mainly because of the last part.

Han certainly was a hero, and he was a capable leader, but respectable?

For Leia, childish dreams had met early deaths. As soon she had turned 14, she had gotten involved in politics. There had been little time for childhood when Galactic Civil war was brewing.

And then I came to understand that there are no heroes like the ones people imagine. My innocence disappeared all too quickly as I realized how devious people can be – what true liars are and how good they are at their profession.

"Your opinion, Senator?"

She had been thinking again: she had not heard the speaker approach.

Frustrated with herself, Leia turned to confront her addressee.

General Chad Hoffman was a one–armed veteran of the Clone Wars, Civil War, and now the present conflict. The grizzled General had a short beard and unkempt hair that hung level with his shoulder blades. He stood to her immediate right, his remaining arm folded behind his back, standing tall and at a respectful distance.

Leia cleared her throat, still not entirely in the present.

"I have no real expertise in snubfighters, General, but I have to say that I am impressed." She graced him with a smile. "I wouldn't go so far as to insinuate that they have no training left to undergo, however."

Hoffman nodded and turned to watch out the viewport.

"Your assessment is accurate, M'Lady," he grunted. "Commander Corsurge has done an excellent job with them. When they first joined the squadron, half of the trainees didn't even know the difference between a control stick and the steering rudder. The Commander was happy to report yesterday that he lacks only three pilots to have a full wing of twelve now."

Leia smiled wistfully. "Very good. I know Commander Corsurge did not feel entirely up to the task when we first assigned it to him, but I think he has surpassed even his own expectations. I only hope that the unit will be fully ready for combat soon. The Vong won't wait for us to prepare for them."

Hoffman twisted his lips into a grimace. "Very true, my lady."

He took a few steps forward, coming to stand before the railing that overlooked the control bay below. Leaning heavily on the durasteel bars, he observed the organized chaos below for a long moment, then turned back to Leia.

Then he said, "Whether they've undergone enough training, whether they've got the guts or not, they'll understand their duty."

He straightened, his eye tracing the flight path Corsurge's A-Wings were following. "I haven't known Commander Corsurge for very long, but I can tell you this: he's a good man, a good pilot, and a damned good fighter. He'll drill the concept of duty into those boys' heads so they won't forget it."

Leia smiled, coming over to join the General at the rail. "I wouldn't have expected anything less."

Neither of the pair spoke again for a long moment, as both of their attentions had returned to the snubfighters drilling outside the viewport. It was easier for Leia not to concentrate with the old General beside her: their conversation had distracted her from unwanted thoughts.

All around them, the bustle of activity never ceased. The Kiss of Life's bridge swarmed with officers and engineers alike as they scurried about their assigned tasks.

Finally, Hoffman spoke again. "Are you prepared for your meeting with the Naboo, M'lady?"

"Prepared to embrace them as my native people?" Leia asked rhetorically. "Yes. Ready to work out treatises and sketch battle plans? No. Everyone knows of the Naboo and their determined neutrality. I just hope that they will be tolerant of military forces within the citadel. They've come to accept our presence in their space, I've been told."

She allowed a heavy sigh to escape her nose. "I need to convince them to support our cause for our short stay here, but I will need to gain the Queen's approval. As for long–term aid, I cannot say as of yet, but the Council is hoping."

A tall man dressed in a stately white admiral's uniform crossed the bridge and came to stand alongside the pair. Admiral Phillip Creel was the Kiss of Life's commanding officer, an powerful and polite man at the age of fifty. He looked no older than thirty-five.

Creel bowed low to Leia and saluted General Hoffman.

"Mistress Solo," the Admiral began. "Commander Corsurge is bringing his fighter squadron back into the hangar now. We thought that you might like the opportunity to speak with him in person."

"It has been too long." Leia smiled and took the arm he offered her. "Lead the way."

Ten minutes and one turbolift ride later, Leia, Hoffman, and Creel entered the Kiss of Life's large and echoing hangar bay – just in time to see the last A-Wing snubfighters come to a gentle rest on the landing pad. Cockpits popped open, and the nine pilots emerged from their fighters, ecstatic from what they seemed to feel had been their best training run yet.

Leroy Corsurge was easy enough to locate: his was one of two A-Wings with TIE fighters painted on the sides (signifying kills) and he looked every bit the leader. He was tall and handsome, and although he couldn't be much older than Leia was, his hair was predominantly silver.

The pilots assembled in two even ranks on the hangar deck, and Leroy approached the trio.

He bowed to Leia as she and her two escorts drew near. "Mistress Solo. I'm pleased to see you again."

Leia accepted the hand that he offered (after hastily wiping it on his flightsuit). "The pleasure is mine, Commander. I'm very impressed by the work you've done here."

"Thank you, my lady." Out of protocol obligation, Leroy turned to Creel and Hoffman, but Leia could see the reluctance in his eyes. "What is your opinion of their finesse, Admiral? General?"

Admiral Creel cleared his throat in a dignified sort of way. "Your squadron is exceptional, Commander. I see great improvement, but they still aren't at the level we want them to be yet. After all, if this stab at a propaganda movement is to be effective, your performance needs to rival that of Rogue Squadron's."

Hoffman said nothing.

Corsurge's smile flickered slightly, but then turned back to Leia. "Allow me to introduce my pilots, if you will."

Leia took his proffered hand and allowed him to walk her forward. Creel and Hoffman aped their steps, keeping a respectful distance.

As they approached, the pilots arranged themselves into a line in front of them, and Leroy's Executive Officer Dano Ven snapped, "Look sharp, lads – you're in the presence of a lady!"

As the pilots snapped to attention, Leia laughed aloud. "I was a lady once, Captain," she said, addressing Dano. "Now I'm just an old diplomat who badly needs a vacation."

"Now, now, Senator," Creel said with a chuckle.

Leia allowed Leroy to guide her over to the lines of pilots and indicated each in turn.

"Of course you've met my executive officer, Captain Dano Ven," Leroy said, indicating the tall man.

Dano inclined his head and smiled respectfully, and Leia returned the gesture.

"This is Lieutenant Cane Roulvecksch."

The evil–looking Shistavanen gave a polite smile – what looked to be a death wish – and bowed low from the waist.

"Seth Joust."

That young man shook dark hair from his eyes and smiled at Leia. She could immediately tell that he was a Corellian by his mannerisms.

Cocky like Han, she thought.

"Farvebacca."

The tallest squad member roared a welcome.

Seeing the gigantic Wookiee brought back memories – both painful and pleasant – of Chewbacca, Han's life–long best friend and partner. Leia sighed wistfully, distracted by happier times long past as Leroy introduced the next pilot as Led Sketz – a stocky man from Courascant.

Han had been so depressed when Chewie had died at the hands of the Yuzzhan Vong. He had sworn never again to abandon his family the way he had, and Leia had no doubt that her husband would keep his promise.

Her thoughts drifted back to the present as Leroy introduced the short, sandy–haired boy as Vick Fleen. Vick reminded Leia strongly of her brother Luke and the naivety he had displayed when they had first met on the Emperor's first Death Star all those years ago. In another lifetime, Fleen could have been Luke, but he lacked the Jedi Master's sparkling blue eyes.

Croutz "Rusty" Yuvahak was a Bothan whose only family had been killed during the desperate – but successful – attempt to steal the battle plans for the first Death Star.

Teneniel Tyra was a small but beautiful woman who looked to be about the same age as Leia's daughter, Jaina. The dark–haired Dathomiri pilot gave off an aura of power for one so small, and Leia felt a distinct ripple in the Force as their eyes locked.

Leroy clapped gloved hands together and turned to Leia. "What did you think of them, my lady?"

His boyish excitement was intoxicating, making Leia smile. "They perform excellently, Commander. I wouldn't say that they're – ah – Rogue Squadron material quite yet, but I'm impressed nevertheless."

Leroy smiled easily, amused. "I assumed as much, M'lady."

"Commander, we've all been wondering," Admiral Creel said, coming to stand on Leia's right. "What is the designated title of your squadron?"

Leroy glanced over at Dano, who merely smiled and shrugged. The commander looked back over at Creel and Leia, both of whom were waiting for an answer.

"Actually," Leroy said, "we don't have a proper name yet. As of now, we're going by just Green Squadron… because we're new, I suppose. We'll vote as a squadron on a name when we have a full roster."

"I see," Leia said with a smile. "Well, Commander Corsurge, if Green Squadron would be willing to take time out of its busy training schedule, my shuttle needs an escort to the planet's surface."

Leroy snapped a smart salute. His cheeks had paled, but she could tell he was honored by the request. "It would be an honor, Madam."

Leia left Creel's side and embraced the Commander briefly, catching him completely off guard. "Call me Leia, please," she said in his ear. "You are a brother here, Leroy."

She released him and stepped back. "Also, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your presence is requested at the Provisional Council meeting planetside."

She was amused by the way his face paled even further. Just like Han. "I know you don't like formal ta–dos, but you'll just have to sit this one out. So once we get to Theed, don't go flying off anywhere."

He nodded sharply. "Of course not, M– Leia."

Creel stepped forward. His hands were folded at the small of his back. "Commander, you and your squadron are dismissed for the time being. Senator Solo's shuttle departs for Theed in an hour's time. Do not be late."

The pilots filed slowly out of the hangar, and Leia watched them go, thinking wistfully of simpler times and younger days.

The pilots of Green Squadron met in their debriefing room a half–hour later.

All of them wore their green flight suits with their helmets in tow. Beneath that attire, however, everyone wore their best and both Leroy and Dano had donned the few medals they each had earned.

The Commander situated himself by the holoprojector and waited until all nine pilots had seated themselves. When talk had died away, he smiled and opened his arms wide, taking them all in.

"Greens, you made me proud today. Captain Ven and I just wanted to thank you all for your willingness to serve the Galactic Alliance and formally welcome you all to the squadron."

There was scattered applause from the pilots.

Leroy waited until it had evaporated, then continued. "As we said earlier in the hangar, we don't have a designated title for our unit. So, until further notice, we'll be going by Green Squadron. Permanent call numbers have already been assigned to you, and when we receive our official name, those will stay in place. I trust you can remember them on your own, but they will be painted on the insides of your respective fighters in the event that any of you suffer a memory lapse."

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together briskly. "On a side note, Captain Ven and I are open to any suggestions for the permanent squadron name, however. 'Green Squadron' is a little boring, after all."

Seth Joust snorted from his seat beside Led Sketz in the third row. "And it makes it seem like we have no skill."

"Right you are," Leroy said over the mild laughter. "We are anything but green in that respect. So, without further ado…" He nodded to Dano, and the XO crossed the room and handed Leroy a set of rank strips.

The Commander turned back to the squad. "Flight Officer Sketz, please step forward."

Led looked surprised, but he quickly came up to the front. He saluted Leroy and held the gesture until the Commander returned it.

Leroy extended the rank strips to the scraggly–haired man. "At ease, Mr. Sketz. You are hereby promoted to Lieutenant and given charge of Two-Flight due to good demonstration of skill and responsibility. I am certain that you will uphold this rank dutifully."

Led allowed a small grin, then saluted smartly again. "Thank you, Sir."

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Sketz." Leroy returned the salute in a more casual manner. As Led returned to his seat, the Commander said, "Have a steward droid sew them on for you. Your promotion takes effect the moment we leave this room."

Addressing the remainder of the pilots, Leroy said, "These are your officers: Lieutenant Roulvecksch, Lieutenant Sketz, and Captain Ven besides myself. I don't expect them to have to baby–sit you all, and I needn't remind you that the Kiss of Life does have a brig in case any of you decide to misbehave."

Leroy dug in his pocket for his datapad. "Now. Cabin assignments. Had we a permanent, ground–based HQ, we might have room for all of you to have your own separate cabins. Unfortunately, we don't have that luxury, so you'll just have to learn to get along with each other. Captain Ven and myself will have our own quarters – due to rank and not preference, of course. We have attempted to bunk you all with your wingmates."

He consulted the datapad. "Lieutenant Roulvecksch? You and Lieutenant Sketz are the exception to the rule, because one of you is short a wingmate and the other flies with Ms. Tyra, so the two of you will share cabin 24a. Naturally, Mr. Fleen and Farvebacca will share a room – 25a, gentlemen. Mr. Joust? You'll be bunking with Mr. Yuvahak have 26a."

Seth looked somewhat uncomfortable by being assigned with the Bothan, but Leroy ignored him. Instead, the Commander looked up and found Teneniel Tyra with his eyes. She was sitting next to Vick Fleen in the second row of seats.

"Ms. Tyra? You are currently the only female in the squadron's roster, so you will have cabin 39a to yourself. In the even that any more female pilots join our roster, you will be expected to surrender some of your living space."

She smiled easily. "No problem, Commander. I'm flexible."

Leroy returned the grin. "We all are, and thank you all for that. Once again, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude that you are all here."

He cleared his throat. "Okay. Now to business."

At those words, Dano plugged his datapad into the holoprojector, and it immediately leapt to life, displaying the planet Naboo in midair. The lights in the room were extinguished automatically by the program.

"This mission is just the standard escort role," Leroy began. "One-Flight will take point, half of Two-Flight will fly port, and the other half plus Lieutenant Roulvecksch will fly starboard escort. Keep a good distance of two kilometers and maintain even speed with Senator Solo's shuttle. I don't want any fancy stuff now, so flight leaders will maintain strict formation."

Simultaneous with his words, the orb that was Naboo shifted to a three dimensional outline of Naboo's capital city, Theed. The elegant topography slid by as miniature A-Wings and a shuttle descended to the street–level of the city.

"Once Senator Organa's shuttle lands on the palace grounds, we are expected to make one pass over the city for show, then land in the Theed hangar here."

He indicated the hangar, which was located in the northernmost quadrant of the city – roughly four kilometers from the palace. Leroy clasped his hands at the small of his back as the map disappeared and the lights in the room came back on of their own accord.

"I assume that there will be few questions for a task this simple," he said.

Vick Fleen's hand, however, had risen into the air. "Sir, what will we be doing while the Council meets?"

"To my understanding, Theed is very tourist–friendly," Leroy replied. "There is also a pilot lounge in the hangar where we are scheduled to arrive, and I assume there will be many shops to browse. So long as you are all back in the hangar by 1800 hours, I don't care where the hell you go."

Farvebacca raised a furred paw and growled a series of barks and woofs.

All eyes turned back to Vick; the Tatooine farm boy translated. "Farve questions whether or not you should land your A-Wing in the palace hangar with the Senator's shuttle, Commander. After all, you'll be attending the council and the hangar is almost five klicks from the palace."

Leroy shrugged. "We're doing this by the book, my friends, and protocol demands that the squadron leader remain with his pilots. I'll catch an air–taxi."

"Or you could walk," Dano suggested brightly. "You might want to exercise those arthritic joints."

There was a second of awkward silence as the pilots considered the joke – perhaps questioning whether or not it would be appropriate to laugh at such a breach in protocol – and then there was scattered chuckling as Leroy mimed firing a blaster at Dano.

"If there are no further questions, you are dismissed to your fighters," the Commander said to the disconcerted band, brushing silver hair out of his eyes.

Dano clapped his hands together as the pilots stood and began to file out of the room. "Step lively now, lads – we've got a Princess to impress."