Luke Skywalker didn’t expect the Rebellion to involve paperwork.

Months ago, he had destroyed the Death Star over Yavin from the cockpit of a T-65B X-wing. The Rebel Alliance had kept him in the cockpit since, helping fend off Imperial patrols and run scouting missions while the Alliance’s leadership decided on a course of action – evacuate, which was sensible, or hold the line at Massassi Base for as long as possible to declare to the galaxy we are here and the Empire is not invincible.

Luke had no doubts about his ability to fly. Biggs’ confidence in him had always been a cornerstone, and during the battle of Yavin he had engaged and shot down TIE fighters – military-trained pilots both capable and dangerous, flying the best front-line starfighters the Empire could field. What he hadn’t been certain of was his ability to lead – he may have practically grown up in a skyhopper, but he hadn’t spent those years formation-flying and engaging in small-group combat tactics.

Which is why General Dodonna gave me Wedge. He knew I would need the help. I couldn’t do this without Wedge. He knows all these pilots.

Luke’s eyes flicked back to the roster. He and Wedge had been poring over the records of all available Alliance pilots: defecting TIE pilots who needed to be checked out on an X-wing, trainees who hadn’t been blooded in combat, and survivors from squadrons shattered by engagements between Rebel and Imperial forces at Eadu, at Scarif, at Yavin.

So far, they’d assembled a handful of pilots: besides Luke and Wedge, three more pilots on the roster – an uncomfortable number. According to the starfighter doctrine laid down by General Antoc Merrick – the last leader of the Rebels’ starfighter corps, dead months ago at Scarif – X-wings deployed in three-ship elements. Ideally, they’d build the new squadron out to twelve pilots total, but six would be a solid start.

Which is why he didn’t understand why Wedge didn’t want him to recruit the last pilot on his short list. But before they fought that battle, Luke wanted to review the rest of the list first.

“Sarkli,” Luke started with.

“Pathfinder,” Wedge supplied as he looked over his own datapad. “Expert in survival. Transferred to starfighter corps when he moved here to Yavin. Good simulator scores, and he’s been good on patrols according to the pilots he’s flown with.”

“A lot of ego,” Luke pointed out. “I’ve looked over some of those after-action reports, too. He’s got a tendency to chase kills instead of the mission. I’ve heard plenty of bragging  over drinks here in the Temple, too. He’s good, but he wants to be seen as good.”

“Ego is hardly uncommon in fighter pilots,” Wedge retorted. “You know that as well as I do. You have to have plenty of ego to convince yourself you’re better than any Imp pilot you’re going to run into. Some of us just control it better than others. And one of us has a Death Star kill and doesn’t need to brag.”

“That wasn’t…” Luke flushed.

“No, but he’s sharp and we need him. I wish he were more polished, too, but we’re not exactly spoiled for choice and he’s good enough to survive the sort of missions you and I have been talking about.”

Luke shook his head. “I know. I think I want to interview him before we finalize him, but he’s on the roster.” He picked up his datapad. “Hobbie. Do we need to talk about Hobbie?”

Wedge smiled. “No.”

“He’s hard on equipment,” Luke pointed out. “I’m not telling you that we shouldn’t put him on the roster, but he’s got a reputation for losing starfighters. His record doesn’t exactly contradict the reputation, either. But the fact that he’s survived every one of those losses does make me feel a bit better about it.” He looked at his datapad again. “Puck Naeco.”

“Naeco’s an interesting one,” Wedge admitted. “He flew with a rebel cell out of Denon for a full year before the Rebel Alliance was officially formed. R-22 Spearhead pilots, with more hours than anyone else on the shortlist. He’s technically a double-ace in the Spearhead, too – eleven TIE fighter kills. But things were different then. The Empire was still treating resistance cells like a policing problem, not a military problem, and we both know the average Imperial garrison pilot is nothing like the Imperial Navy’s TIE pilots.”

“Why hasn’t anyone else picked Naeco up?”

“Medical and personality,” Wedge said dryly. “He put an R-22 down badly a week before the battle of Scarif and broke his left ankle in two places. With medical shortages, no one wanted to dump him in bacta to recover when we needed it for a lot of pilots in a lot worse shape. He was still healing during Yavin. Since then, he’s been a terror in the simulators, beating up on the new recruits, and making an absolute menace out of himself. The squadrons rotating off Independence, Liberty, and Defiance all dealt with his pratical jokes here and decided they didn’t want to keep dealing with him.”

Luke’s smile was wry. “Lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” Wedge echoed. “He’s going to drive Hobbie up a wall between missions, but he’s all business when we’re in the cockpit. He won’t say it out loud, but I think he’s a lot less certain about himself than he lets on. If Sarkli had eleven TIE kills, we’d never hear the end of it. Puck usually brushes it off.”

“That’s three on the short list,” Luke said. “So…do we talk about the snorbal in the room?”

Wedge grimaced. “I already know where this is going.”

“Let’s start with her service record,” Luke said, ignoring Wedge’s expression. “She’s been officially part of the Alliance for two years now, and was part of a resistance cell before that. She did her initial flight training on R-22 Spearheads, and then trained on X-wings – according to the flight records, by you, Wedge, and Hobbie. Her simulator scores are good, and your own evaluation on her test flights gave her high marks.”

The dark-haired pilot nodded. “Yes. And she’s a damned fine pilot. Has great situational awareness and tracks what’s going on in a fight well. If she survives, she has the potential to be one of the best, but she’s not anywhere close to that right now.”

“So why are you telling me not to bring her in?” Luke asked.

“She’s young,” Wedge pointed out. “Seventeen, more or less – she has no documentation on her birthday.”

“Wedge, I’m not even twenty yet. You’re twenty-one, and you were younger than me when you flew your first combat sorties. And the Alliance has put pilots younger than she is in a cockpit before.”

The executive officer shifted uneasily in his seat. “She’s been through a lot.”

Luke pulled the appropriate page of flimsiplast from the stack. “I saw that. Flew as part of General Syndulla’s attack group on Lothal a year, year and a half back and was shot down but survived. Flew with Blue Squadron at Scarif. Most of her squad made it through the shield gate and ended up trapped down on the surface and destroyed. She was at the back of the formation, didn’t make it through before the gate closed, and fought in the orbital fleet battle. Two TIE kills, and just surviving that engagement means she’s good.” Luke laid the page back down. “That’s more reason to bring her in, not less. She’s got combat experience in some ugly battles and survived it. I should at least interview her.”

Wedge’s lips compressed into a line. “I think it’s a bad idea,” he said at last.

There’s something you’re not telling me, Wedge, Luke observed silently as Wedge’s jaw clenched and unclenched. The two men had formed a fast friendship, and Wedge had been open and honest about his evaluation of all of the pilots they’d recruited so far – and those they had decided wouldn’t work with the squadron they were trying to put together.

“I want to meet her,” Luke said aloud.

Wedge sighed and picked up his comlink. A flick of the thumb, a single call, and he laid it back on the desk between them. “She’ll be here in a minute.”

Luke spent a moment studying the other man. “So, we interview her, and then we make a decision. Not before. We need the pilots, Wedge, if we’re going to make this work, and our options are limited.”

Wedge shook his head. “No, you and I are going to disagree on this. I already know it.” He offered a small smile. “You’re the commander.”

A chime at the door, and Luke raised his voice. “Come in.”

The door slid open, and the pilot stepped in – a slip of a teenage girl, dressed in the orange flightsuit favored by most of the Alliance’s starfighter pilots for both its comfort and visibility in case of ejection, flight boots not unlike Luke’s own, and a pendant around her neck, mostly but not entirely concealed. A DL-18 blaster with a well-worn grip rested in a low-tied holster over her flightsuit. Her posture wasn’t entirely relaxed, though she tried. Her expression was guardedly neutral, she looked very young, and her striking green eyes betrayed experience that was incongruous with her youth.

Her red-gold hair was vivid even against the flightsuit.

“Flight Officer Mara Jade, reporting as ordered for interview for the new unit.”

Luke waited until the younger pilot settled into the salvaged Y-wing ejector seat sitting opposite his makeshift desk. “Thanks for being so quick,” he said congenially.

The young woman offered a nod and nothing else, her eyes sharp and observant.

“Wedge and I are putting together a squadron,” Luke said without preamble. “I already looked over your record, such as it is. I’m not much for paperwork,” he added with a small smile. “You’re not officially on any active squadron after Blue Squadron was disbanded. Are you interested in joining a new unit?”

“If it means I’m flying, yes,” Mara said. Her voice was clipped and tight.

Controlled, Luke corrected himself. Tightly controlled. “And why do you fly?” He hesitated for a moment. “No. Why do you want to fly after Scarif?”

That question got a reaction, but not the one he expected; her face blanked for a moment into something unreadable. “It’s the only place my head is quiet.”

“Most of your unit was wiped out at Scarif,” Wedge noted. “How did you survive it?”

“Couldn’t make it through the shield gate. I was at the back of the formation when the gate started coming back online. Knew I couldn’t make it and if I pushed it, I’d die.” She offered a small shrug. “After that, I stayed alive.”

Luke studied her, but Mara’s eyes could’ve been blindfolded for all they told him. “Any problems flying with a wingman in the past?”

Mara shook her head slightly. “No. I keep up.”

Definitely not the talkative type. “And if I offer you a position in the squadron we’re putting together, what do you need from your commanding officer to do your job?”

“Clear orders.” She seemed to consider for a moment. “If I’m in your squadron, I follow the orders you give me and no one else’s.”

Wedge shot Luke a concerned look across the desk but didn’t speak.

That was…specific, Luke thought. “I’ll want to evaluate your flying before we make any final decisions,” he said slowly. “I’ll let you know as soon as we can get a training flight scheduled. Thanks.”

Mara stood smoothly, offered another nod, and walked out of the makeshift office without looking back.

Luke looked at Wedge after the door shut. “So, are you ready to tell me the whole story? Because I’m ready to put her in a cockpit and see how she flies.”

Wedge hesitated. “Mara is…complicated.” 

“So make it simple,” Luke replied.

“She’s one of Hera Syndulla’s,” was the reluctant reply.

Luke picked up the flimsi off his desk again. “General Syndulla led that attack on Lothal where she was shot down,” he noted. “But that’s the only record I have of her flying as part of Phoenix Squadron. For that matter, your record shows a lot more time with Phoenix at the base on Atollan than Jade’s record.”

“Because she wasn’t part of Phoenix. She was part of the Ghost crew.”

Luke set the flimsi back down. “Syndulla’s personal ship? That VCX freighter?”

Wedge nodded. “Mara was part of the Ghost crew when I first met her. While I was with Phoenix, I was aware she existed, but Hera always kept her away from anything public, and Mara wasn’t the sort to volunteer for missions. I didn’t really get to know her until after I transferred to Massassi Base, when Hobbie and I caught her moping around the hangar. It was Hobbie’s idea to teach her to fly, because she clearly didn’t have anything else to do. I thought Syndulla was going to flay us alive when she found out, but at that point we’d been training Mara for months. Hera looked over the records, made us swear that we were going to treat her like a real pilot and not some kid mascot shavit, and then let it go.” Wedge shrugged. “She’s good, Luke, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“But you’re worried about Syndulla,” Luke finished.

“You haven’t dealt with her,” Wedge said wryly. “She’s a fine officer and squadron commander, but she gets very protective about her crew.”

Luke leaned back in his chair and considered. Political and personal stakes with people I don’t know yet. “So we don’t make a final decision yet,” he said aloud. “Let me fly with her and evaluate her myself. If I don’t think she can fit with the unit we’re building, it’s not an issue. If she does fit, we’ll figure out how to handle any personal complications.”

Wedge grimaced, but nodded. “I’ll get everything lined up for a training flight tomorrow. We’ll bring in the whole shortlist and run a patrol.”

Luke nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”