I watch her from across the hangar. She has a datapad, a container of red paint, and a brush. She stares intently at the datapad, then approaches my X-wing. A few strokes, and an image of a TIE appears on the side. She frowns at it. I move to stand a few meters behind her. It looks fine to me.

"Hey, Airin." She jumps a klick. I almost laugh.

"Oh, uh, hi, Wedge." She turns around, brush still poised to paint. "What's up?"

"Uh, not a lot," I reply. It's the truth, too. Since we'd been forced to evacuate Yavin IV, the entire fleet has been roaming around space, bored out of its mind, trying to find a nice, out of the way system to hole up in. In the ships, everyone is getting antsy as hell. There is nothing, I repeat, nothing to do, except for endless games of sabacc and the daily patrol. Even now, we are still technically on alert, so that means no alcohol. What I wouldn't give for a three-day-pass to--well, somewhere.....

I realize Airin is talking again. "So....." OK, so it isn't much, but it's hard to get anything out of her, so a few syllables is a small victory.

"Oh, what do I want?"

"Yeah. I have have work to do."

"Not to sound terse or anything, right? Don't answer that," I add, hoping that I don't insult her or anything. "Anyway, you want to do something tonight, like after your shift ends?"

"Something, like what? There's nothing to do." She turns back to my X-wing and dabs on a little more paint.

"Well yeah, but that's not stopping me from asking, is it?" I snatch the brush from her hand.

"Wedge, come on--"

I wave it above her head. "Do something with me after your shift."

Airin's mouth works, like she can't decide whether to laugh or dump her container of paint all over me. Finally she says, "Fine. Now give it back."

I hand her the brush and quickly put my arm around her shoulders. She stiffens. I ignore it, and say, "See you later."

Why do I enjoy teasing Airin like that? It's incredibly rude of me. Ever since I first met her after we killed the Death Star, though, I'd been vaguely interested in her. Yeah, she's quiet, but still, she's no Gamorrean (that sounds crude, but I'm a pilot, so). She just strikes me as being solitary and content to be that way, if that makes any sense. Anyone who deliberately tries to be alone needs a swift kick in the pants, or a friendly equivalent, in my opinion. Especially if they try to be alone in the Rebellion. Everyone lives in everyone else's back pocket here. If you don't know that, you're in for one helluva surprise. But Airin....she manages to hang out of the pocket a little, just enough to be there but not....

What in the cold hells am I going to do with her tonight? Good question, Antilles.

I don't particularly want to get smacked, so I can't try to get into her pants (no matter how much I'd like to). There's no alcohol (according to the powers that be, at least). Sabacc doesn't strike me as Airin's game. Hm. This's tough. She's definitely not a talker. But hey, I am.

A command ship, not to mention a rebellion, is nowhere to try to start a relationship. I really shouldn't even be thinking about it. But I can't help it. I see her so often, and every time I do, I just want to see her more. Lately it's gotten to the point where it's all I can do not to run up to her and kiss her like we're a married couple. Gods, she'd hit me. Failing that, she'd run away, and then shun me forever. Or maybe......see, it just shows how much I don't know her. I want to know her better. A lot better.

Down, boy. Get ahold of yourself.

I meet her after her shift ends, and after some dithering, we decide to go to the quasi-cantina for caf. It's so hard not to touch her as we walk down the corridors...hold her hand, drape an arm around her shoulders. Of course the logical section of my brain is saying, Antilles, just ask her if she'll let you, obviously. Then the other, illogical half says, but she'll probably be offended, or at the very least, alarmed, and never want to see me again. So I wait. And wait.

We sit down across from each other at a table with our caf. Thank gods Wes and Hobbie aren't here. I'd never hear the end of it. She waits for me to begin a conversation. I'd much rather she did, but what am I going to do about it?

We talk about our jobs. Really, what else is there? It amazes me--she knows everything about every ship the Alliance uses, inside and out. I know my X-wing. Y-wings to a lesser extent, but only because Wes loves them and won't shut up about them. But she doesn't know the first thing about flying. I offer to take her in a sim one of these days. She declines (not unexpectedly).

"Oh, come on, Airin. It's just a sim, it could be fun." I smile at her. "It's not like you're gonna take a real bird out."

"I know, I--no. I don't think so, Wedge."

"Oh, why not?"

"Well, I don't know how to fly!" She almost laughs.

"How do you think the rest of us learned? By taking a ship out the very first thing?" She shakes her head, kind of hangdog-like. I wonder what that's about. "Just try it. We could do it tomorrow, after your shift ends. You never know--hiding under that techie demeanor could be the best damn pilot this galaxy's ever seen." I shrug.

Airin sighs. "How do I let you talk me into these things, Antilles?" Humor! A smile! I could cheer. I settle for grinning.

"Great! It's a date, then." She balks visibly. Way to go, Wedge. Smooth.

"Uh, okay." Silence for a few minutes. Then she actually brings up a topic of conversation. "Er, you're from Corellia, right?"

"Yeah."

"What's it like? I've never been there."

"Well, if I tell you about Corellia, you have to tell me about--hey, where are you from, anyway?" I try to make a deal. Just to get her to talk.

"Actually, I was born on Corellia."

"You said you'd never been there."

"Well, we moved away when I wasn't even a standard year old. I grew up an army brat. We moved all over the galaxy following my dad's assignments. He was an officer for the Empire. I don't even remember all the places I've lived." She stops. "You said you were going to tell me about Corellia."

"Oh yeah." It's kind of disappointing. I thought we were getting somewhere. So I tell her about my homeworld. Coronet City, Gus Treta, the farming school I went to half the year, the beaches, the little agricultural towns, the annual harvest festivals. I neglect to mention anything about my family. "So, where did you live last? Before you left home, I mean."

"Ixthor. Dad finally had us settle down in a city there when I was maybe fourteen. It was weird, living in one place all the time. I stayed there until Dad got killed--I was sixteen, I think." She sips at her caf.

"Is this what you wanted to do?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" >

"Fixing ships for a bunch of wanted criminals."

"Oh." She sighs. "Actually, no." She gazes across the cantina like she's lost in her own little world. Maybe she is.

"Well? What did you want to do?"

She smiles self-deprecatingly. "I wanted to be a musician."

"Really?" There's something I never would have guessed about her.

"Yeah. My biggest dream was to play in the Alderaanian Symphony Orchestra. They were incredible. Have you ever heard them?" It's like a star is newly formed inside her head. Her eyes light up, she looks up at me, begins describing the orchestra animatedly, hands gesticulating, smiling, talking....it's like her shell just split open and the wonderful person trapped inside is free. And just as fast as it came, it's gone. "But you must think that's pretty silly, right?"

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "No, are you kidding? If I had any musical talent at all.... I really don't, though. I'm utterly tone-deaf. I'm envious."

Airin fiddles with her mug. "No one's tone-deaf. Some people just don't have the necessary training, is all."

"Is that an offer?"

"Could be." Did I just hear that right? The Force must be on my side today. "So what about you? Did you always want to be an extraordinary X-wing pilot and hero?"

Hero, right. Anyway.... "No, I never thought I'd be doing this. When I was a kid I wanted to be an architect." I wonder if I should stop there...no. Might as well tell her everything. Be fair, Antilles. She told you everything. "My parents had this fueling depot. I worked on it, until these pirates came. They were running from CorSec, and forgot to unhook the fuel line coupling when they ran. The engines ignited the fuel, and the depot caught on fire. My parents got everyone off, and detached the depot from the station just in time." I stop. My voice is caught. "They were still on it when it blew." Airin's eyes go huge. She obviously doesn't know what to say and I can't blame her. "After that I tried legitimate hauling, but that doesn't go over well in Corellia, so I started running guns for the Alliance. Then they put out a call for pilots, I signed up, and here I am."

Airin has this thoughtful look on her face. "Let's stop talking about the past. The past stunk. Bad. For both of us."

"What do you suggest we do instead?"

She stands up and grabs her mug. "I've got some recordings of the Alderaanian Symphony in my quarters. You've never heard them...we could go listen. If you want."

I get to my feet, grab my own mug, and dammit, I just can't contain myself any longer. I don't care how she reacts. I slip her hand into mine and smile. "I'd love to."

Take it slow. Always take it slow with her. She's like a lost baby nerf...so damn cute you just want to take her in your arms and hug the stuffing out of her, but you have to catch her first. Baby nerfs always run. But if you're quiet, and slow, and nice, they might stick around for you. I hope this works.

Read more of Airin's story in No Finer Pain

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