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

My Month with the Gods
Part Eighteen
by Banshee

The next few days were much the same as the first week, sims and briefings, mostly and we practiced a few formations in actual X-wings. We were so busy no one even noticed the "confined to base" part. No one except Wes, that is.

He apparently had a lady friend that he had been seeing on and off again and she was currently on Coruscant for a few days on business. Exactly what that business was, no one seemed to know, except that she wouldn't have time to come to the base. Wes would have to go to her if he wanted to see her and I got the distinct impression that he wanted more than just to see her, if you get my drift.

As amusing as it was to see Wes confined to base where all the females had figured out his tricks, it was pretty miserable on the Rogues, especially Hobbie. "Come on, Tych. Can't you get Wedge to lighten up a little? Please?" Hobbie moaned pitifully.

"Sorry, Hobbs. Just think of it as revenge for the stunt you two pulled," Tycho replied.

The two blonds were serving as my escorts this particular afternoon as I worked on my small fighter and they were beginning to drive me crazy. I tried to tune them out without closing the canopy to my cockpit but to no avail.

"Why am I being punished? I didn't have anything to do with that and you know it," Hobbie whined. He voice turned desperate as he continued, "Tycho, he's starting to sleepwalk again. Last night, I woke up and he'd climbed into my bed and was snuggling with me! I tell you, if he doesn't get laid soon, I'm going to go crazy."

Tycho mumbled something about Hobbie being lucky he hadn't had to share the locker rooms and shower with Wes in the last few days.

I chuckled to myself; obviously they didn't realize I could hear their conversation. I suppressed the sudden urge to offer Hobbie Wedge's quarters at night. Wedge wasn't using them, after all, and I think Wedge was taking perverse pleasure in rubbing it in to the playful Rogue that he was... well... and Wes wasn't.

I had heard similar complaints from several of the other Rogues and decided something needed to be done before the squadron turned on Wes or, quite possibly, Wedge. An idea began forming in my mind and I climbed down from my fighter and headed towards Wedge's office, Tycho and Hobbie in tow.

I smiled to myself as I evaded their questions. When we reached Wedge's office, he looked up in surprise and sent them away on an errand. I grinned evilly as I closed the door and locked it.

A small part of my brain was feeling guilty about what I was about to do. But I reminded myself that Wedge was a rather brilliant tactician and knew exactly what I was up to. Plus, I'm sure he was probably hearing some of the same complaints I was and given the state dinner that we were to be attending the next evening, it would be good for the Rogues if Wes was relaxed enough to be on his best behavior.

When I was through, he gladly signed off on a day-pass for Wes. He was so relaxed after the massage I gave him that he probably would have signed off on a request for a copy of the Death Star plans if I had asked him to.

Hobbie and Tycho returned right on cue; they stared in amazement at the pass then the smug look on Wedge's face. Tycho chuckled under his breath and shook his head.

"Straight there and back. No games. I want a tracer on him at all times in case we need to find him," Wedge instructed Hobbie. The mournful pilot nodded and left to find his partner in crime.


The next morning at breakfast, the Rogues were wearing grins again and Wes was having trouble staying awake. It was obvious he had had little, if any, sleep.

Tycho suggested that today would be a good day to work on a little hand-to-hand combat training. Surprisingly, the others agreed; Hobbie even asked if I would show them some of the moves used by the Vipers that attacked us.

Wes moaned, "Aw... Not today, I'm beat."

The others rumbled in laughter as Tycho answered smugly, "I think that's the idea."

Needless to say the pilots showed Wes no mercy. Running him through the most extensive of exercises. I have to admit, I was having fun with it myself. By lunch, Wes was somewhat battered and bruised and Wedge called it a day so everyone could get ready for the state dinner.

To be Continued...

Back to Banshee's fic