Private The Holly and the Ivy | Closed

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima's eyes rolled skyward briefly as Wedge took his position atop her (phrasing) to get a better lay of the land. "Watch the paintjob," she quipped into the com channel. Reima took an opposite tack in response to the Flyboy's strategic maneuvering, pointing her ship downward. When she flared them the energy crackled against Wedge's shields and she shot out like a dart, careful to avoid the edge of the field and its resulting disqualification. An asteroid the size of a small freighter loomed in its orbit, and Reima leveraged its slight gravitational pull to pull a tight turn, slingshotting around it with a subtle speed boost.

"Doing just fine back here," George answered Wedge, though his grip on the metal bar provided for just that purpose was so tight his knuckles were white. He wasn't to know it, but his mother was in a similar posture, looking somewhat green from Reima's maneuvering. Natasi was used to observing and commanding from the decks of a command vessel. The experience gave her a new appreciation for the work done by starfighter pilots -- not least her daughter and her gentleman caller, though her cousin Pierce loomed large in her memory, close as a brother, and his commanding officer Roderik, himself a close companion. The trio had been inseparable then, untouchable, even after the Omega Crisis almost killed Pierce --

A violent shudder as Reima bounced her ship off an asteroid for another speed boost shook Natasi out of her reverie and her grip tightened further.

For her part, Reima gave a whoop of triumph as her ship was the first through a checkpoint. Reima glanced over her shoulder at Natasi with a breathless grin. "The boys are going to learn to enjoy the taste of our exhaust, mother," she said.

"Let's not get cocky. There are still six checkpoints to go," Natasi reminded her.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

He rolled his ship around another asteroid, coming in the ring just behind Reima- microseconds, even. But he needed to gain some speed. He looked back at George, giving him a thumbs up.

Because at that moment, Wedge diverted powers from the shields. More power to the engines. Shunting- shunting power to the rear, away from the shields. The shields that gave them protection, and in a sense, life. However, Wedge traded that for speed. The craft lacked weapons and other systems, and had massive energy demands for the heavy shields, so when Wedge shunted power...

His ship streaked just feet below Reima's, a close flying maneuver more akin to something to do with an X-wing rather than the craft he was flying. He laughed maniacally, turning back to George, cackling in the madness of his adrenaline rush.

"Now this, George, is how you fuckin' fly!" He said, pushing more power forward- narrowly avoiding asteroids, if only barely at times. He gained a lot of time and put a lot of distance on Reima- and much more dangerously. Perhaps, a bit too recklessly.

​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

The Prince's stomach lurched in the passenger seat as the instrument panel lit up like a Life Day tree on fire with warnings and demands. His clammy hands clutched at the safety harness that now felt too loose as his trim figure was slammed into crash couch by more Gs than he knew how to count, until one fumbled for the sick bag. He barely had time to hold it to his ashen face before what remained of his breakfast occupied the bag. He was too busy retching to return Wedge's enthusiasm verbally, though he thrust a fist forward through gap left by Wedge's helmet into the ace's peripheral vision.

No one could ever accuse George Frejrik Alec Talbot Vitalis of being a bad sport, for the fist sported a distinctive thumbs up.

Meanwhile in the other fightercraft, as Reima watched Wedge pull away and realized after a moment how he had achieved it, she gritted her teeth. He was cheating, of course, a fact that rankled her Galidraani sense of fair play. Worse was that he was endangering his life and the life of her brother for the sake of sport and seemed to be daring her to do the same.

It was sorely tempting. Reima loved to win, and she wasn't accustomed to another result, but with her mother in the back seat she thought it would be unwise. The only thing more dangerous for all parties involved than two speed freaks racing through a dangerous asteroid belt without shields would be two speed freaks racing through a dangerous asteroid belt without shields in close proximity to one another. Reima thus resisted the impulse to reroute all power to engines. She entered the second beacon three seconds after Wedge, and by the third and fourth beacons they cleared, his lead had leapt to five seconds and eight seconds.

Revenant Twelve's timing was respectable, of course, and were it not for Wedge she would likely have set a course record. The time differential continued to increase as they passed through the final three checkpoints. By the time Reima soared through the last checkpoint, she would not have been surprised to learn that Wedge and George were already in the officer's mess aboard the Hyperion, waiting for the womenfolk to return -- perhaps enjoying a well-deserved whiskey and an even better-deserved gloat. As Reima went through the post-flight check and powered down the ship, she peered through the windscreen to where the leaderboard had already updated. There was DRAAV, W right at the top, and just underneath was VITALIS, R.

That was fitting. Wedge was twice the pilot Reima could hope to be. She had to admit to herself that it would have been the result even if he hadn't cheated -- though perhaps he wouldn't have made her time look so shabby by comparison. If Natasi had cottoned on to the circumstances of the flight, she certainly didn't let it show and even Reima repressed a barb in her congratulations to Wedge.

"I'd say we should stop in the officer's mess for a drink to celebrate, but I think George looks a bit green around the gills and I really ought to return to work through the dispatch box before the service tonight. But you all can stay and celebrate if you like," Natasi said to the group, her hand lingering on George's shoulder a moment. The Prince had already discreetly disposed of his bag of vomit and had only a touch of sweat at his brow and the nape of his neck, to his credit.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

The joyfulness, the festivities, George's vomiting, it all went by so fast.

Natasi and George took their leave for a moment, presumably to sort out George. And Wedge was staring up at the screen, his name above Reima's. He took a deep breath, as she approached from behind. The hangar was mostly empty, and the emptiness had allowed his thoughts to creep into his mind.

"I'm sorry, love."

He didn't want to elaborate, but he found himself needing to. He was facing away from her, the scoreboard illuminating the two of them. He pointed up at it, his back towards Reima. "I thought only about winning, but I was... reckless. Careless. And as soon as I won, I realized-" He took a deep breath, staring at his feet in shame. There wasn't any hint of glory or boasting in his features, in fact, he obviously wished he hadn't won at all, especially the way he did.

"What I could have done to you."

Not died, not his own life- no, his immediate thought was her. The loss of him, her brother, the grief, the sorrow. All for what? To win? Wedge was a War Hero, an expert- but also exceedingly reckless for no benefit. He sat back down, hands folding together. He thought for a while, thinking of what to say next.

"We have a future- I don't know what it is, but I need to be in it, and I want to be in it with you and for you."

He turned his body to face her, finally finding the strength to do so.

"You're the love of my life and I never want anyone else, and I definitely don't wanna die doing something stupid."

​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Natasi and George were gone, and though there were others in the vast hangar of the Titanic-class Battlecruiser, rushing this way and that to handle the returned starfighters. The ship was impressive, Reima had to confess, though it was unlike most other capital ships she had been aboard, as a fighter pilot or in any other capacity. Neither triangular like the First Order Star Destroyers of old, nor the lumpy and care-free approach of the Mon Cal capital ships, it was definitely a unique approach to the task.

She didn't turn as Wedge approached, not until he went to look at the leaderboard.

"Plenty of time for a rematch, if you -- " Reima began, but she hesitated a moment, chuckled. " -- if you want to. Not now, of course, but generally."

She reached up and unfastened the neck of her flight jacket. It was borrowed, so it didn't quite fit her -- a bit blousy in the chest -- and she was starting to get warm. "Don't worry," Reima told him quietly. "No one died. And with you at the stick, no one was going to." In the moments since they had been out of their cockpits, Reima felt her hackles lowering once again. Wedge's appetite for risk was one of the things that attracted her to him, and his skill and talent at the controls of a starfighter was essentially second to none. She needn't have worried -- right? Perhaps her irritation was in not trusting herself to disable the shields and rely on her own wits out in the Hesperidean.

Maybe, if it had just been Reima. But Natasi -- apart from being Reima's mother, Natasi was Supreme Leader, the glue that held the Renascent Republic together, the millions of souls that now called this obscure star system home. Or maybe Reima was using that as an excuse not to embrace the risk, not to push herself to the best of her abilities.

She shook her head. What was it about being here that made her second-guess herself, to question every movement and motivation?

"There's plenty of time to figure that out, too," Reima told him, finally turning to Wedge again. She reached over, took took his sleeve, and tugged, nodding toward the pilots' ready room. "Come on, Flyboy. If I don't get out of this suit I'm going to spontaneously combust."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

He forgot sometimes, that he was the best. There wasn't another Wedge Draav in the galaxy. There wasn't anyone close to him.

And-

He turned and smiled, looking up at Reima.

There sure as hell wasn't another Reima Vitalis.

​

"You know, you might need some help out of that suit, pretty lady."

He turned his head immediately- double checking that Natasi and George were gone, which he should've prior to his... comments. He looked around the hangar, then looked up at her.

"You're a damn fine pilot, pretty lady."

Reima Vitalis​