Private Bravo, You Have The Sky

[Rhys Gorne]

​

The Naboo sunset was always striking. Golden light sinking into rose, rose into dusk, dusk into something almost unbelievable. From the launch platform’s edge, Captain Rhys Gorne stood motionless, the wind brushing past him like an embrace from a favourite pet that had not seen him in too long. Below, the Solleu River shimmered in its final light, winding patiently toward the horizon.

Behind him, the hum of pre-flight checks rose and fell. Pilots of the Royal Naboo Republic Navy moved in measured patterns around the sleek starfighters, their nervous energy folded into efficient gestures. Once upon a time Rhys was too young to know that he’d miss this, to understand how rare stillness like this really was.

Rhys said nothing. He didn’t have to. The moment was speaking for itself.

This wasn’t just another sunset test flight. He could feel it, there was a strange weight in the air, in the silence between orders, in the way even the light seemed reluctant to leave. Word hadn’t come down yet, but it would. It always did. The edges of the galaxy were fraying faster than the Senate wanted to admit, and Bravo Squadron wouldn’t stay parked on Naboo forever.

He turned only when the last tech stepped back from his fighter. The other pilots were assembled now, some trying not to stare at him too long. Helmets in hand. Mouths tight. Waiting for direction from a man who barely spoke unless there was something worth saying.

His voice, when it came, was quiet and even.
“You launch in three. Standard course. Watch your trim on the descent, the thermals off the lake will pull you off line if you’re not paying attention.”

A pause. His gaze flicked toward the horizon, where the sun had just dipped behind the hills.

“Also don’t chase the sun, you won't catch it. Instead take it all in, you’ll remember this sky. Maybe not tonight. But later. When we’re flying over places that don’t have sunsets like this.”

He didn’t linger. Helmet under his arm, he moved toward his own starfighter — the older model, personally maintained, painted with the subtle Bravo insignia near the intake — and climbed the ladder without another word.

The wind caught his flight cloak just before the canopy closed, lifting it slightly like a farewell.

Nami Runda Michael Angellus @Bravo Squadron​

 

[Nami Runda]

Current Outfit

"Wait! WAIT!"

Nami nearly tripped running after her new comrades in arms. As much as she despised fighting, Nami wanted to make an impact, helping others and to protect the innocent after witnessing the battle of Coruscant from the comfort of her home in Chandrilla. It was awful seeing citizens suffer and die while Nami lived in the lap of luxury finishing up her studies in the University of Alderaan. Nami lived a sheltered life not knowing much of the outside Galaxy besides the Core Worlds, but she needed to shake off the shackles of comfort and press forward onto a brave new world.

Even though violence wasn't her first option nor an option at all, Nami was an exceptional pilot having scored top marks in the flight sims back at Uni. It seemed good enough to enlist in the with the Royal Corp since it took a long time to be a pilot for the Galactic Alliance. She hadn't met her squadmates, but she heard that they were embarking on a training mission: How exciting!

"Hello!" Nami skid to a stop seeing the squadron. "Sorry I'm late! The navigation that I used was pretty buggy! Is this the place where Bravo Squadron are doing flight practices? Can I join?! My name is Nami and I must say I'm honored to meet each and every one of you!"

Rhys Gorne , Michael Angellus

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:
.

I received a message to come to these coordinates and meet with other pilots. Will this be another formation exercise? Training? I was actually looking forward to possibly working on some evasive maneuvers without relying on “BRED” my astromech droid. What I reached as something entirely different. This looked like some kind of club. Out on his own stood a pilot in Captain’s bars… a Captain… who looked like he had a lot of headaches with that helmet.

I hadn’t been turned away yet so I might have been an extra or something, or perhaps they were holding some kind of tryout.

You ready “BRED”?

As everyone head to their fighters, I did not head to mine, but the one that looked to be available. Should be fun, flying a ship I am not used to.

 

[Rhys Gorne]

​

The canopy sealed with a soft hiss and as a result, everything inside became smaller and sharper. The world outside was framed now; the burnished horizon, the river's gleam, the soft curve of the hangar disappearing behind him, all reduced to angles and instruments and the pulse of repulsorlifts waiting to be released.

Rhys flicked through the startup sequence. Systems lit green across the board, Bravo Squadron checking in one by one. He didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched just long enough to deliberately create a thread of tension drawn tight, so that when he released it, they would all head into that sky with appreciation.

“This is Bravo Lead. Clear the pad.”

Engines whined into a deeper note. The starfighters lifted together, graceful as gulls banking into evening wind. They moved as one, rising above the cliffs of Theed, curving inland where lake met canyon and sky. The domed city fell away beneath them, the golden towers of the palace catching the last light like spires dipped in fire.

Rhys flew without chatter. He always had. His voice only cut in to correct a line, call a sharp turn, or catch the younger pilots before they overreached. The rest he left to instinct and trust, theirs in him, his in the rhythm of the flight as a whole.

It wasn’t until they broke past the western ridge, into open sky and the full spread of the Naboo sunset, that his voice returned.

“Bravo, fall into diamond. Let the sky open.” There was no order to press further. No lecture. Only the soft static of comms and the shape of home falling slowly behind them. Let them enjoy the air, they were all of the same breed, they belonged out here. “Right now, talk to me team. Give me some stories while we do the patrol loop. I’m sure there are some crazy stories out there.”

In the back of his mind, Rhys could already feel what this flight would become, a memory, clear and aching, of calmer times before being carried with them into darker skies.

Nami Runda Michael Angellus​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:
.

So, I am in my X-wing because as it turns out, the one I thought was available belongs to this Captain. So that is definitely a “no-go”, which works out as this is a bit of a “rag-tag” bunch. No shame in that, it looks like it will actually be a fun day to fly.
Today…I flew with Bravo Squadron.

Not in simulation. Not trailing as an observer. Not under someone else’s callsign. I flew with them. In my own X-wing. In formation. On patrol. Like I belonged.

It was supposed to be a standard perimeter run—clear skies, clear objectives. But from the moment Bravo Lead’s voice crackled through the channel with that simple, sharp: “This is Bravo Lead. Clear the pad,” I felt it in my chest like a starter’s pistol.

We launched together, engines rising in harmony, lifting off the pads at Theed. The palace fell behind us, its spires catching Naboo’s sunset like molten gold. Beneath us, the cliffs and rivers folded into shadow, but above? Above was light and breath and freedom.

Rhys doesn’t seem to talk much when he flies. He doesn’t need to. His presence carries through the squadron like gravity. Every turn he made was clean, unspoken—like a musician setting rhythm and trusting the others to pick up the melody. And we did. I did.

I stayed quiet too, not out of nerves—well, maybe a little—but more because I didn’t want to break the moment. We weren’t chasing enemies or evading fire. We were just flying. Like it was the only thing that mattered.

When we crested the western ridge and the horizon opened like a painting in motion, Rhys spoke again:

“Bravo, fall into diamond. Let the sky open.”

No barked commands. No overbearing structure. Just trust. And then…

“Right now, talk to me team. Give me some stories while we do the patrol loop. I’m sure there are some crazy stories out there.”

My thumb hovered over the comm. I almost didn’t click in. I almost let the moment pass. But I remembered something Connel said—“Don’t wait for permission to belong. You already do.”

So I keyed in and said:

“Bravo Eight reporting. I don’t have any crazy stories yet, sir. But… give me a few more flights like this, and I’ll change that.”

There was a laugh or two from the others. Tyrn, Bravo 9 just answered, calm and clear:

“Copy that, Eight. Looking forward to it.”

I’ll remember that line for a long time.

We finished the loop in silence again. Sunset at our backs. Naboo stretching forever below. And me—not chasing ghosts. Not wondering if I was just someone’s legacy.

Tonight, I flew with Bravo Squadron.
And for the first time in a long while…
I felt like me.

Nami Runda Rhys Gorne