Imperial Center, Coruscant
Tycho Dannaeal Celchu awoke early, showered, and dressed in the plain, pocket-laden, green uniform that had somehow been forced upon the squadron during his six-week absence. On his way to breakfast, he poked his head into his commander's room. As expected, the oft-feared Commander Wedge Antilles, Commanding Officer of Rogue Squadron, X-Wing Pilot Extraordinaire, was fast asleep. Feeling far too full of himself, Tycho silently slipped into the room and pulled the covers off.
Wedge was furious. Not only had some unidentified but most certainly unwelcome person seen him in his pajamas (cute as they were, covered with spaceships of all shapes and sizes), but said someone had also interrupted a night of much-needed sleep. The previous day had been tiring-- the squadron had been up before dawn, leaving Coruscant's surface as the sun rose, fighting hard all day with only a brief respite for lunch, and returning after dark-- and Wedge had told the group to sleep in.
"Good morning!" a voice exclaimed proudly.
"Before I open my eyes, tell me who you are and why you felt it was so necessary to wake me up," Wedge ordered.
"I thought you'd be happy to see me, that's why."
He knew that voice. Somewhere, hidden away in a dark corner of his mind was that happy "It's morning and I'm hyper so why aren't you?" voice. He opened a brown eye cautiously and surveyed its owner. "Tycho. Had I known, I would have woken up sooner."
Tycho laughed, a musical sound that Winter had often described as bells chiming. "I have a meeting with General Salm at 8. I just wanted to say good morning to you before I headed over."
"Lunch when I'm closer to conscious?" Wedge inquired of his friend.
"Sure. I'll be back." With that, Tycho Celchu left the room, as well as the building. Once outside, he caught an airbus, arriving outside General Salm's office at 7:55. The Captain always made a point of being early.
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