I finished the pre-flight check and walk-around of my X-Wing in preparation of a joint Rogue and Wraith training exercise. I looked around to see Tycho, Wes, Hobbie, Face and the others following my example, and also checked to see that they weren't watching me, before I opened the hatch to the cargo hold; I rummaged around until my hands fell on what I was searching for. I withdrew my duffle and unzipped it. I dug down under the med-kit, ration bars and other miscellaneous items a fighter jock carries with him in case of emergency landings until my finger-tips brushed something soft. Again, I looked up and over my shoulder; this was something I went through each time I flew and it was never easy. To this day I am not sure how I could ever explain it if anyone were to see what I was about to do next. "At least when we scramble everyone is too busy to catch me but during routine flights and training runs, it is a bit more difficult to keep secret," I think to myself.
I look around once more as I take out a small blanket wrapped bundle. The blanket is old and worn, one of the few things that I have left from my carefree childhood, from before my dreams of a normal life were shattered, from my life before my parents were killed as I watched from the Pulsar Skate unable to do anything. I have carried it, and its contents, with me on every flight, into every battle since I joined the Rebellion, and now the New Republic, when I was sixteen.
I straightened up tucking the bundle under one arm; I closed and secured the cargo hatch and walked to the ladder leading up to the cockpit of my X-Wing. As I placed my foot on the bottom rung, the bundle was knocked out from under my arm. Quickly I turned and reached out to snatch it off the hanger floor. I ended up staring at a pair of familiar flight boots, "Hey Boss," Wes Janson said holding the blanket bundle in his hands, "Whatcha got here?"
I made a quick grab for it, "Nothing, Wes." I said as he began to play keep away with it, tucking it behind his back.
"Must be something important, Wedge, or your face wouldn't be so flushed and you wouldn't want it back so bad."
Not wanting to play his game, "Major! Attention!" I commanded only loud enough for the two of us to hear.
Years of training forced Wes to snap to attention dropping the bundle. As it hit the durasteel hanger deck, the blanket unwrapped and out fell my well-loved stuffed bantha, showing patches where fur here and there had been worn off from many long years of being cuddled and loved. I snatched him up off the deck and with on swift move tossed him up and into my open cockpit. I looked at Wes, my face red with embarrassment, "Major. Wes. You breathe just one word of what you just saw and I swear, I WILL BE forced to shoot you."
"Wedge, I've know about Bamfa since Yavin," he said gently. "Since you came back from the first Death Star run and I was released from the infirmary. Since Luke assigned me as your wingman and roommate back then. I've seen you sleep with him. I have heard you crying into his fur over the loss of friends and pilots. I know he sits on the shelf behind your head in your ship. I haven't said anything in all these years, why would I say something now?"
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