LordDarthYoda- I love your theory about the secret conclave of Force-sensitive Ubrorans. I almost wish I had written about that! And yes, Nara will, by the end of this story, be as fully fleshed out as Sascha. Amazingly there are still more layers to her yet!

Chaotic Skunk Demon - Thanks! I see form five as a form that requires physical strength - that's not really in Sascha's wheelhouse, but I think he's picked up some form 4 from his Master (and sparring with Nara all the time). You are right with the Shien/Djem-so differences. Maybe when Sascha gets older, he'll convert to using some form 5 moves. We'll have to see.

A/N - Ran short of editing time, so there probably some mistakes in this chapter. Sorry!

Please enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 20: The Galaxy's Worst Starfighter Corps

The wind whipped through the hair of Sascha Whitestar as he piloted the Ubroran speeder across the open plains. Sitting beside him, Nara's montrals were implacable against the wind, making her look more dignified than he did at the moment. Both were very happy with the chance to get to spend some more time together, and spend it in a place that was far away from their Masters. It wasn't as if they were going to get into trouble as soon as they got out of eyesight, but it was a small thrill to know that they were on their own and had to protect themselves. What exactly they would be protecting themselves against was anyone's guess. Maybe getting a sunburn?

Their 'mission' as Masters Tiplee and Brynar had described it, was to make sure that the only major air base on planet, Falta Air base, was up to Republic standards. It was going to be a lot of touring around the base, checking that munitions were stored correctly, that pilots were being given the proper amount of rest time, and so on and so forth. Theoretically it was going to be a very boring day, but when he had made contact with the base last night they had promised both Jedi that they could fly their Sarkiss class Starfighter, and he was very much looking forward to that. Flying was always fun.

"So are you excited to see the worst Starfighter corps in the galaxy?" asked Nara casually, having to raise her voice slightly to be heard.

"I'm sorry, what?" he responded.

"I read that report that you got from the Balmorrans that tested the Ubroran Defence corps, it had lots comments from the Balmorran pilots. The Balmorran pilots were savage, one of the Balmorran pilots called them the Galaxy's worst Starfighter Corps."

"Ouch. I read what their commanding officers wrote, but I skipped over the pilot's reports. I guess the officers pulled their punches."

Nara shrugged flippantly, "I mean it's fine, once Ubrora joins the Republic, they can bring in a bunch of officers from other worlds to bring their military up to snuff. But between their…uh…interesting…choice of Starfighter and the lack of military tradition on this planet, it was always going to be an uphill struggle for them to get up to standard."

"I think the Sarkiss class fighter has a lot of potential, actually," he said.

Nara fixed him with a look of incredulity, "That's not an opinion I'd expect from you. I bet the Emerald Dream has more maneuverability than their Starfighter, and the Dream is a much bigger ship."

He shrugged, "I like good shields on my craft, and to get good shields something has to be sacrificed. In this case its maneuverability."

"Yeah but having a pilot and a gunner is just such old school design. It's too unwieldy to be effective."

"I bet you and I would work well as a pilot and gunner team," he replied, "You like to shoot things, and I like to fly."

Nara smiled at the compliment, "But not everyone works as well together as Jedi do."

He had to concede that was true.

The Jedi arrived at the base, more than a little surprised to find that they were not challenged at the perimeter of the fenced-in base. The base itself was a couple hours ride away from the city of Gamudo so it was unlikely that anyone was going to wander on to the base itself, but it did not set a good tone. The Jedi dismounted from their speeder, leaving it and wandered inside the perimeter where they were flagged down by an Ubroran in a grey shirt and pants, cut in a military fashion, which was more than a little undercut by his tail jutting out from it.

The Ubroran snapped into a sharp, picture perfect salute, "Welcome, Commander Whitestar, Commander Nalto. I'm Lieutenant Alty."

The two Padawans share a look, "It's nice to meet you Lieutenant, but you don't have to call us 'Commander'" he said.

"Yes, I do, sir. Regulation H-141 subsection 12, 'Jedi apprentices are to be given the rank of 'Commander.' You outrank me, sir."

Sascha tried to keep a straight face, "Republic regulations don't apply right now, Lieutenant. Ubrora isn't in the Republic yet. You can call us by our first names, I'm Sascha Whitestar and my friend is Nara Nalto."

The Ubroran evaluated them behind deep blue eyes, "I suppose I can make an exception," he allows, as if he was making a major concession.

Nara nudged him in the Force lightly, clearly amused at the Ubroran's...odd personality, though when she spoke, she was perfectly polite, "Thank you, Lieutenant Alty."

The Lieutenant waved them further inside the compound, "I suppose you want to see the base? Follow me, and I'll give you the tour."

Falta Air Base was quite unlike any military facility Sascha had ever been to. While he was no stranger to military bases, having been on several already in his career, Falta Air Base was just…different. For one, the buildings were all colourful, just like rest of the Ubroran buildings he'd seen. Most military bases didn't bother with decoration, because they were more interested in being utilitarian, but Falta air base had colour on the walls and many interesting paintings layered around the base. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it was just…odd. There probably wasn't a military base like it in the galaxy.

The personnel that he saw in the tour of the base were very different as well. The mood of the base was relaxed, almost casual. Usually, military buildings had an aura of professionalism that surrounded them, but Ubrora clearly missed the memo on that one. It was just a bit bizarre to see military personnel with their boots up on the furniture casually chatting back and forth while on duty. Again, it wasn't necessarily bad it was just odd.

Speaking of odd, Lieutenant Alty was one of the oddest beings Sascha had ever met. The Ubroran was an absolute encyclopaedia when it came to regulations, and just to make sure he didn't make a mistake with any of the myriad rules of the base, he carried a datapad with the regulations on them. He was an officer that was so by the book, he literally took the book with him. It made things in the base orderly, but he was beginning to see how the Ubroran military had developed a reputation for being something of a joke. Lieutenant Alty was a fine Lieutenant, he just needed a Colonel or superior officer that was more of a strategic thinker. Somehow Sascha didn't think that such a person existed.

After the tour of the base, the two Jedi went over their checklist, and started checking that everything on the base was up to Republic standards. He would have been absolutely shocked had anything not been up to code with the meticulous Lieutenant in charge. The only problem was that the Ubroran Lieutenant wanted to give the Jedi each and every detail of how he brought this base up to Republic code, which was painfully boring. Lieutenant Alty also had a very high estimation of himself. If you took everything what he said at face value, he had single-handedly turned the Ubroran military into one of the most efficient militaries in the galaxy. Sascha had half a mind to take out his datapad and show him the reports from the Balmorran pilots who had practiced against their Ubroran counterparts. He would never actually do such a thing, he just thought about doing it.

Hours later, after completing their checklist, Sascha asked the question that he had wanted to ask since he arrived on base, "So, Lieutenant Alty, can we fly one of your Sarkiss class fighters? I'd really be interested to see how one handles."

The Ubroran looked indignant, "Of course you can't, you are both below the proper age, and neither of you have passed our training on our vehicles, so I cannot legally allow you to fly one of our lovely fighters."

Nara seemed like she was ready to haul off and give the Lieutenant's brain a good scrambling, but he had a couple of more diplomatic solutions he was willing to try before letting the Togruta have her way. Smiling his most genial smile he said, "I'm a more than capable pilot, and regulations that relate to age don't really relate to Jedi. Lieutenant Arty, I've put in many hours in simulators and I've flown my own ship on so many occasions I've lost count, I'm sure I can handle your fighter."

The Ubroran shook his head in a determined fashion, "Sorry, this is probably just a trick to see if I would break regulations. Not going to do it."

Sascha had to admit that the Lieutenant was tenacious, if wrongheaded. Behind him, Nara was none-too-discretely rolling her eyes, and her hand instinctively slipped towards her lightsaber. He had one last tack to try though, "Lieutenant, remember when I said that you shouldn't call either of us 'commander?' I've changed my mind…"

Though Sascha didn't turn to see it, he could almost picture Nara's smug grin as he turned the Ubroran's love of regulations against him.

There was something wonderful about sitting in the cockpit of a new Starfighter. There was just enough familiar about the controls, the yoke, the trigger, to give one confidence, and just enough foreign, like the control panel and the peculiar seat to make one realize that they were in something different and exciting.

The simple truth was he loved flying. He loved it and he was really, really good at it. While he wasn't arrogant enough to suggest that he was the best Jedi pilot his age, he was pretty confident he'd be in the conversation. Flying Starfighters had been one of the few things he'd been the best at in his clan. He still had fond memories of flying against his clanmates and winning. Eventually they learned that the only way to beat him was to team up against him...

But the most fun had always been in simulated exercises where they worked together as a clan. Tyra always gave the orders, the natural leader of the clan. He and Doro had been the tactical thinkers, passing along advice but always accepting Tyra's orders. Trigg had been in charge of morale, always thinking positively, always encouraging everyone to fly their best and keep going despite the odds. So many long years honing those connections and now they were half a galaxy away. Selfishly, he hoped for a time where he'd get to fly in a squadron with all his friends against some implacable enemy, winning accolades for their teamwork and bravery...

Sascha smirked to himself and chuckled slightly, a seventeen year old Padawan he may be, but the dreams of his eleven year old self hadn't quite died yet.

The young Padawan took the time to get familiar with the controls of the Sarkiss class fighter. While some might have expected it to look completely unfamiliar to him, because the fighter had been built on Balmorra, it was fairly similar to many other Starfighters he had seen. The cockpit wasn't overly big, obviously owing to the fact that the average Ubroran was about his height. Still, he found it comfortable enough.

Once he felt comfortable enough with the controls it was time to turn to more important matters. He activated the communicator and spoke directly to Nara's Starfighter, "You ready yet, Nara?"

Sascha heard a muffled thud in his ears, "Ow! Kriff! No, Sascha I'm not ready yet! I'm trying to figure out how to work the rudder!"

"I could get Lieutanant Alty to help you out," he suggested behind a smirk.

"I'd rather be dead," Nara replied flatly. "You know you could come over and help me."

"It's more amusing to watch you right now."

"Next time I ask for help, I'm going to remember this."

Sascha waited a few more moments, amused at Nara's growing frustration in the Force. Then he activated the communicator again, "There's a lever under the seat that frees up the rudder. Pull it, and the rudder will work."

He heard some rustling around through the communicator and then a sharp 'pop.' "That worked. Thanks Sascha."

"Well I wouldn't want you to crash after take –off…"

"Thanks…"

"…Because it would really damage the reputation of the Jedi."

Nara growled, "Very funny."

"Yes, it was."

"Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready."

"Copy, Slowpoke."

"Slowpoke?"

"Well…you have to have a call sign, clearly yours should be Slowpoke."

Nara clicked off her communicator in frustration.

Sascha laughed, it was always fun to prod at Nara's slightly oversized ego. All of it was done in good fun, though he was sure that the next sparring session that he had with Nara that she would 'accidentally' hit him hard in the stomach or toss him to the ground. He wouldn't complain. It was only fair. Wasn't the Jedi Order preoccupied with balance anyway? What could be more 'balanced' than that?

He gave Nara a few more minutes before opening a channel to her again, "Come on, Nara, we Jedi have a reputation to uphold."

"Okay, okay. Twenty seconds."

He smiled at the Togruta's frustration, piloting was one of the few things he was better at then Nara, so he enjoyed rubbing in his superiority in a friendly manner, just as she had on…numerous other occasions. He opened a channel to the base, "Control, are we good to take off?"

"Confirmed, Commander Whitestar, you and Commander Nalto are clear to launch," came the reply.

He checked over his dashboard one last time, confirming nothing on it had changed, before opening a channel to Nara, "Ladies first, Commander Nalto."

On cue, Nara's fighter lifted onto repulsorlifts a little shakily before gunning its engines and launching into the Ubroran horizon. He followed his friend out of the hangar, his flight was a little smoother than Nara's. He caught up to Nara and settled in on her wing as they left Ubrora's atmosphere and headed into space.

"Straight line speed isn't bad," Nara commented, "Let me put it through its paces."

"I'll give you some room," he said, dropping the throttle and giving Nara much more space for her to maneuver in. He clicked on his communicator, indicating that he was ready. Nara swung the fighter into a corkscrew and then into a roll, then banked into a left turn. The dual pods of the Sarkiss just looked so ridiculous when trying to do anything more than going in a straight line. This quote, unquote, Starfighter was not built for agility.

But maybe it was the pilot. Maybe he could do better. When he tried to duplicate Nara's maneuver, he found that he has to fight the craft just to keep it steady. "Kind of ungainly, aren't they," he said.

"Kind of? I've flown cargo haulers that are more agile," Nara responded.

"It's not that bad,", but privately he felt that this was a pretty sorry excuse for a Starfighter. It was just too large, too ungainly. Good shields and armament or not, in a dogfight it was often the most agile fighter that got the advantage. The fact that it had a mobile rear gunner was an interesting design wrinkle, but it probably wouldn't be enough to make up for the lack of agility.

"Wanna do a mock dogfight?" Nara asked.

"It's not a real dogfight in these things unless we have a tail-gunner."

"Well unless you want to go back down and pick one up, lets just make it a contest of piloting skills."

"Aren't you just setting yourself up to fail?"

"I'm not going to get better if I don't practice with people better than I am," Nara responded patiently.

Sascha almost wanted to respond with, 'I'll teach you a lesson then,' but that would have been too mean spirited. Nara was actually being contrite for once, he shouldn't rub that in her face, "Okay, lets do it."

Nara put extra power in her thrusters and flew away from him, while he turned to give the two of them some distance to work with between the two of them. He took a moment to look upwards through the cockpit at the stars above him. Off way to his right was one of the few gas giants that were in the system, the Ubrorans called it Galenta. From his perspective, the planet was a strong, deep red, with jagged storm systems of blue cutting across its amosphere. It was one of the most striking gas giants he had ever seen, and he was still rather far away from it. He wondered if he should suggest using Galenta as a tourist destination...he was sure there were some beings that would be just as mesmerized by the planet as he was.

A message interrupted his daydreaming, "Ready, Sascha?"

"Huh?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

On his sensors he could see Nara's Starfighter accelerating towards his. Sascha, having taken far too much time to gawk and daydream, had let his engines cool off knew that he couldn't hope to match her speed. Which was a problem. One that he would have to solve, and quickly, if he hoped to salvage

He chose not to go directly at Nara, but approach her at an angle. As he expected, Nara adjusted her course so that she pointed her craft (and more importantly her lasers) in his direction. "This is bad," he said to no one in particular. While Nara wasn't a great pilot in comparison to him, she was good enough to win a dogfight when given a tremendous advantage, which his own complacency had given her.

Sascha heard the sounds of a targeting lock starting to be acquired and he went fully evasive, jinking and juking the awkward craft around at random. Nara tried to get a solid lock on (which would make her the victor), but he managed to keep unpredictable enough that Nara couldn't quite get a full lock onto him.

With all his concentrated on keeping Nara from locking on to him, he was unable to stop Nara from settling in behind him. Now it was only a matter of time before she found a targeting lock.

Well, if she was facing a normal pilot, at least.

Sascha kept juking and jiving, but eventually Nara would close the distance between them enough that getting a targeting lock would be inevitable, no matter how many evasive maneouevers he undertook.

Time for drastic measures.

He juked his starfighter hard to the left, and then headed 'down.' Nara followed him, but she had to correct herself from overshooting. That's when he cut power to his engines and put everything he had into a sharp right turn. Nara tried to follow him this time, but she was too late in cutting her engine power, so she shot past him. Sascha banked his craft hard and settled onto her tail.

Even though he usually could fly circles around the Togruta, he was finding it difficult to get a lock on her, but once he managed to get behind her, he could not be shaken off. Nara was a good pilot and one that could shake him off of her tail on occasion, but the Sarkiss fighter was just too immobile to shake a pursuer. He didn't bite on her fakes and eventually, Nara clicked her comlink twice, indicating her surrender, "Okay, you got me."

"Good flying, Nara."

"Not good enough to beat you."

"I got a bit lucky," he admitted. "Come on, time to go back to base." Putting actions to words, he headed back towards Ubrora and Falta Air Base.

"So you flew a Sarkiss? How was it, Sascha?"

The two Padawans were conferencing with their Masters back in the capital from the communications room of the Falta Air base. He and Nara were currently addressing a ½ sized holo of their Masters. "They are interesting fighters," he said, conscious that it was possible that he was probably being overheard by several Ubrorans, even though the Padawans were alone in the room, "But I prefer the Emerald Dream." And most other Starfighters designed in the last hundred years.

"The base is up to standard?" inquired Tiplee.

"Completely, one-hundred percent up to Republic standards. The base commander is a…stickler for procedure," replied Nara.

"Good work, Padawans," said Aurine, and he and Nara inclined their heads in acknowledgement of the praise. "So, it's pretty late, I think it may be best if you stayed at the Air base tonight and come back to Bontha in the morning. I'm sure that they can find accommodation for you. Tomorrow, Tiplee and I are touring a Thys root farm with President Mollek, so we may not be home when you arrive."

"I think that sounds like a plan, Master," replied Nara.

"Any problems?"

"None," said both Padawans.

"We will communicate with you tommorow," said Aurine. "Remember to behave yourselves."

"Of course, Master."

As their Master's images winked out of existence, Nara immediately turned to him, "Sparring?"

He sighed dramatically, "Can't I have one day where I beat you in something?"

Nara seemed to consider his statement before shaking her head, "Nope. You can outfly me, so I have to take my revenge when we are on the ground. Plus, it will be good entertainment for the troops."

"Actually...I have a different idea."

"Trying to get out of sparring, I see," Nara said with a smile and a nudge to his ribs.

"I was thinking we could actually we could give these pilots some hand-to-hand combat training. Who better to teach them than us...you specifically."

"You are flattering me, Sascha."

He nodded, "Yep."

Nara nodded, "Okay, your idea is better. I accept...on the condition that I get to demonstrate all throws, holds and techniques on you."

He grinned, "So you want me to be your punching bag."

Nara grinned back and shrugged, "Don't worry, it won't go any different then how our hand-to-hand training usually goes."

Sascha looked around, saw the room was empty and then tried to drag Nara to the ground.

A few second later, Nara's arm was wrapped softly around his throat and he was furiously tapping on her arm in a gesture of surrender. Nara held on a half-second more than was polite before letting him go.

"Remind me never to try that again," said Sascha.

"Yeah, but where would be the fun in that." Nara punched him softly on the arm, "Let's go train some Ubrorans."