Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

Part Two
by Aggy

Wedge leaned against the control panel, watching the simulations that scrolled across the vid screens. Lieutenant Stitch was flying a TIE, or a simulation of one. Janson had decided to let the little alien fly the Imperial fighter since the mythical Lieutenant Kettch had flown the same sort of ship. It was a bit of humor that made Antilles wince. I truly do NOT want them together creating mayhem.

But, according to the stats scrolling at the bottom of the holo screen, it seemed that Wedge’s nightmare would indeed come true. Stitch had out-flown or exhausted every pilot that had been thrown into the simulator, giving Antilles no reason to deny Stitch’s entrance into the squadron. "So who is he going against now?"

Wes grinned the demented ewok grin and Wedge KNEW that Janson was already planning mischief with the fluffy little alien. "Corran."

Antilles stared at the holo screen. "And he’s been tailing Horn like a shadow…"

"Since the sim started. Corran can’t shake him. He’s even tried the "Not the X-wing you’re looking for" trick on Stitch and nothing happened."

Wedge turned to Janson, his jaw dropping as he realized what those words meant. "Immune to the Force."

"Nope," the Wraith drawled. "Just too smart for it to work."

"You realize how he’ll react when he meets Stitch."

The demented ewok look was back. "Yub yub, Commander."

# # #


Stitch sat on the ferrocrete like the collie his records claimed him to be. Except Wedge was sure a collie would never look as undignified as Stitch did at that moment. The alien’s tongue lolled out the side of his toothy mouth, causing a thin line of drool to stretch from bright pink tongue to floor. Wes refrained from snickering when a slight flick of that tongue caused a splatter of liquid to land on Corran’s carefully polished boot.

Wedge realized a possibly volatile situation was about to develop. "Lieutenant Stitch, say hello to Lieutenant Corran Horn." He hoped the use of titles would force the Rogue to realize that Stitch was indeed not some sort of stupid animal.

Unfortunately, Stitch didn’t seem to want that image clarified. Instead of carefully enunciating a greeting, the alien jabbered wildly and bared his teeth. Corran let out something that sounded suspiciously like a shriek and scrambled for the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

"NO!" Wedge shouted reaching for the Rogue, but he knew he would be too late. Pilot reflexes couldn’t compete with a panicked Jedi. The green blade illuminated the training area. The weapon plunged downward, a wild swing aimed at decapitating the alien. Stitch stared up at the weapon, the pale light shimmering over his black eyes. Then one furry arm reached upward, catching the blade against his palm.

The ‘saber crackled then the blade seemed to pool into Stitch’s paw. The alien grinned and began juggling the energy between his palms, .murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like "Oooh pretty." Wedge was sure he heard Wes mutter "What do we blow up first?"

Corran was staring at the hollow hilt of his lightsaber, a fine shade of purple creeping across his face. "Wait ‘till I get my hands on you!" He lurched forward, ready to strangle the slobbering alien when a voice echoed through the room.


The Rogue jerked back, spinning around to face the woman that had efficiently diffused the situation. "Mirax?"

The petite woman stalked forward, her ebony hair swinging against her jaw with every angry stride. "What the hell are you doing?" Her brown eyes moved from the deactivated lightsaber to the creature her husband had been about to strangle. Realization struck as she took in the sight of fluffy alien. Wedge noted that Stitch was indeed as smart as the Federation claimed.

The alien quickly hopped up onto four feet (the extra set of limbs and the spikes running down his back having disappeared sometime during the flight simulations) and waddled over to Mirax, almost purring as he cuddled up to her boot.

Her harsh expression melted for a moment and she leaned down to pat Stitch’s head, when she stood, Stitch made obnoxious faces at Corran. But those faces were nothing compared to the Wrath of Mirax. "You were going to hurt this adorable creature?" Her voice raised to a level that caused Wedge and Wes to clap their hands over their ears. "HOW COULD YOU?"

Stitch took that moment of distraction to blow a very wet raspberry at Corran, quickly hiding behind Mirax’s knees as the Rogue moved forward to attack. Anger flashed in her brown eyes as glared at her husband. "CORRAN," it was more of a growl than a warning.

Janson eyed Wedge, "He is soooooo dead."

The General nodded his agreement. "Leaving now" he whispered, bolting for the door with Wes only a pace behind him as the Wrath of Mirax descended upon Corran.

To be Continued...

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