Author:
Bearcat
Bearcat's feet felt heavy as he shuffled down the ramp of the Zalian Rose, a beat-up-yet-clean Loronar E-9 Explorer belonging to a fellow Renegade Wing member. Unable to just take his X-wing wherever he wanted due to New Republic regulations (despite many stories of that very thing happening during the era of the Rebellion), he was inexplicably lucky to have received an offer from Prowler to hitch a ride to Borleias while he made his own supply runs during the downtime for most of the Wing.
A cheery voice called out from the top of the ramp. "Safe travels, Zyn!"
Bearcat looked over his shoulder, hissing at the sudden jolt of pain that washed over the area. A low growl left his lips involuntarily. His previously dislocated shoulder from his encounter with Commander Feing on the ground of Toseng had been twisted and pulled very recently.
During the lengthy hyperspace journey, the veteran Renegade from before Endor had suggested a friendly sparring match to measure if his mixture of K'tara and a smattering of Cardooine Aerospace Academy hand-to-hand training could match the Cathar species' innate hunter's physical prowess.
Prowler's training could, and did (many times over), surpass Bearcat's raw strength and agility. Along with a sore neck and shoulder, the Cathar's shins and elbows had taken the brunt of the human's plethora of close quarters disarming gambits and submission holds. The human likely hadn't known the extent of Bearcat's lingering injuries from Toseng, or he probably wouldn't have suggested the sparring match at all.
Bearcat pointed a clawed finger, careful to choose his uninjured arm so pain wouldn't ripple throughout his fur. "Next time, you get the claws. It'll be differrrent," he grumbled.
"So you were just holding back and letting me twist you into a salted Umbaran Cheese roll?" Prowler laughed, and waved genially as he slapped the ramp control button. As the opening slowly closed, a wry smile crept across the human's lips. "As if those claws could touch me!" he called out, just as the ramp closed and severed the interaction before Bearcat could snap off a witty retort.
Bearcat shook his head at the parting shot, his smile fading as he looked back at his feet. Truth be told, he felt like he was capable of winning a fight against the veteran pilot, but for some reason he couldn't find the will to make it a reality. Ever since the fateful night at Toseng, he'd had the niggling voice, his own internal monologue, constantly casting doubt on his abilities and judgement.
Even something as small as filing an after action report for a routine patrol had become a mentally overwhelming task, the negative voice would stymie any attempts at explaining anything he'd done or attempted to do on flights in a positive light. Didn't scare away an enemy patrol before they fired a shot? You were too slow. Missed an easy target with your first cannon burst? You need more practice. Too sluggish, too weak, too… insufficient. Insignificant. Not good enough. Should have stayed home, you can't hack it out here.
The hangar deck of the converted ISD Deliverance was clean. Almost, it seemed to Bearcat, too clean. And when he shook himself clear of the negative mental monologue, he began to notice other peculiarities. There appeared to be some confusion amongst the ground crews, as they seemed to stumble over each other or require more bodies to complete seemingly routine tasks than he was used to seeing done individually on the Vigilant.
Shrugging to himself, wincing yet again at the pain in his shoulder, he shouldered his bag and picked his way through the crowd. Only toward the end of the journey to the turbolifts did he notice the sideways glances from the other personnel. Most of the looks were furtive glances over shoulders, but a few in what appeared to be pilot gear were openly staring.
Bearcat's fur rippled in embarrassment, and he quickened his pace to reach the turbolift and put a barrier between himself and the gawkers. Just as he reached the open lift, a voice from his right drew his attention.
"Rogue Squadron, eh?"
Bearcat's eyes instinctively followed the source of the words, slowing his feet as he did so. They belonged to a pilot with a patch he didn't recognize on his shoulder. Pausing at the now closed lift door and mashing the button angrily, he nodded. "Rrrogue Squadrrron," he replied flatly with a nod. While a normal pilot would have swelled with pride at their excellence being recognized and the jealousy it elicited, it was barely a blip in his negative fugue state.
The human crossed his arms, a stern look flitting across his hardened features. "Would certainly love to see how Rogue measures up to Flare," he said haughtily.
Bearcat grimaced. The last thing he wanted or needed during his downtime visit with his sister was a hotshot pilot wanting to take a swipe at him in the cockpit. "Yeah? Vell … Uh…"
"We're the best Barma Battle Group has to offer," the pilot continued. "Surely someone from the fabled Rogue Squadron would be able to hang with us? Show us a thing or two?"
Just then, the turbolift whooshed open again. Bearcat quickly stepped inside and put his back to the wall. "Perrrhaps laterrr… if therrre's time. I've got an imporrrtant meeting…" He decided that once he arrived at his berth that a wardrobe change was in order to avoid any further scrutiny. He was here to relax and visit with his sister, not prove his prowess. If he even could.
"I'll be waiting," the Flare Squadron pilot replied, the rest of his retort muffled by the closing of the lift door.
Bearcat's shoulders sagged as the lift started moving. Disgust quickly replaced relief, shame-heat radiating throughout his chest and sending a tingling ripple throughout his body. Why did he feel a flash of dread at the challenge? Why did he lose a winnable sparring match against Prowler? Where had his confidence gone?
***
The bridge of the Alliance Star Destroyer was a hive of activity as Bearcat entered, with permission from the guards at the threshold. It seemed like double the number of officers were at each station, talking quietly and gesturing animatedly. An air of anxiety seemed to fill the room.
"Z!"
His sister's voice drew his attention, and suddenly the chaos of the room blurred away until only his sister was visible against the bokeh of moving blobs. She stood in the middle of the jumble of officers, waving her left hand in greeting. Her left hand, minus three fingers.
Bearcat's eyes widened and he strode quickly to his sister, his eyes locked onto this new deformity and his pulse quickening. As they embraced, his gaze stayed locked on the missing digits, his memory tracking back to the day they'd left their home planet, when she'd still had all of her fingers. "Dhina! What happened?" he asked, holding her injured hand up to his face. The perfect white fur of her hand was charred and withered near the puckered, healed flesh where her fingers used to be. Doubts about his choice in leaving her filled his mind. Not only could he not protect his friends in Renegade when they needed him most, but he couldn't keep his sister safe from harm either. More failures to add to his growing ledger.
Dhina's fur ruffled in mild embarrassment. She pointed at the missing digits with her uninjured right hand. "Imps managed to claim them when they took down the Lodestar in the Cerberon system," she replied nonchalantly. "Jamming forced me to concentrate through the comm static to relay orders, and my console exploded in my hands."
A million questions seemed to rush through Bearcat's mind all at once, wondering how she'd survived and who had caused her this pain, but before he could voice any of them, a strong voice behind him interrupted their reunion.
"And who might this be?"
Dhina straightened up, standing at attention. "General Syndulla, this is my littermate, 2nd Lieutenant Zynnadi."
Bearcat turned at the mention of the newcomer's rank, straightening himself to attention out of habit. As he did, his shoulder screamed in protest. He did his best to hide his injury, but it was unconvincing. In the presence of such a hero of the early Rebellion, he would do his best to swallow the pain.
The Twi'lek general, clad in brown pants with a matching shirt and darker flight jacket, smiled warmly. She scanned his uniform, her eyes falling upon his Renegade Wing patch. A look of recognition flashed briefly, before her visage settled back into what Bearcat had come to recognize as a polite mask most humans put on in public situations when they were clearly not comfortable. "At ease. I've met a few of your people in the Bormea sector, Lieutenant. How is Captain Clark faring these days? He had an interesting sense of humor, and impeccable taste in dark liquor, though my memory of that last part is pretty … hazy."
Bearcat's chest tightened as he adjusted his stance, trading physical pain for mental. Memories of his night of greatest failure flashed through his mind's eye, just as vivid as the night itself. "He's dead."
"I see." Genuine sadness filled Syndulla's features. "When? Where?"
"A few weeks," Bearcat replied. "On Toseng."
Recognition flashed across the General's face, quickly replaced with an angry scowl. "The hijacked holonet transmission. Was in hyperspace when it happened, and the general summary I received upon arrival didn't seem like something I wanted to watch personally."
Bearcat nodded. "I, ah, was there…"
Syndulla placed a gentle hand on Bearcat's injured shoulder. Whether she had noticed his pain before or not, he was inspired by her ability to know when and where a kind touch might be needed. Having only known her for a few moments, he felt a sudden urge to follow her wherever she pointed.
"How long are you visiting your sister here?" Syndulla asked as she withdrew her hand.
Bearcat inexplicably felt himself yearning for her hand to touch him again. The dull pain of his shoulder began creeping back into his consciousness. Grinding his teeth slightly, he forced the pain to subside. "A few days at most. I need to report back to the Vigilant within the week."
"Well, by all means," Syndulla started, pausing as she fished around her various pockets for something. After the third pocket, she nodded as she revealed a keycard. "You may use my quarters on the Ghost for the duration of your stay. They should prove more comfortable for two siblings catching up than they would for me reading status reports."
Bearcat and Dhina's eyes widened, their shocked expressions mirroring each other. Their jaws hung agape, both unsure how to respond. Fur rippled in similar places on both Cathars as they stood, stunned by the overwhelming gesture of kindness.
Syndulla laughed at the siblings as she gently grabbed Bearcat's hand with hers and palmed the keycard into it. "It's not every day we have a representative from Rogue Squadron coming in for a visit, especially when it's for one of my most valuable aides," she added with a wink toward Dhina.
"… An unexpected honorrr," Bearcat sputtered, still unable to recover himself. The keycard, and touch of Syndulla's hand sent tingles reverberating through his arm and chest.
Dhina's brow furrowed. "But General, where will you stay?"
"The stateroom here isn't so bad," she replied with a conspiratorial grin, leaning closer. "Plus, it'll be harder for them to find me with these banal progress reports since they usually find me on my ship. Stornvein over there can keep the training and retrofits going in his sleep if they can't manage to track me down." She clasped her hands behind her back, regarding the two siblings with a wan smile. "Dhina, how about you finish your current shift while your brother gets settled, then you can have the next few days off while he's visiting."
"That is most generous of you, General," Dhina responded, beaming. "We will be sure to leave it cleaner than we found it, won't we, brother?" She asked rhetorically, giving Bearcat an exaggerated scowl.
Bearcat recovered his composure enough to close his mouth. "Of courrrse, Generrral. Cleaner than it is now," he said.
"Very good, Lieutenant," Syndulla said as she stepped in close, bringing her face closer to his. "If you need more downtime to heal that shoulder properly, I can enter the orders for you, you know. And possibly a transfer to one of the squadrons here? We are always in need of a talented X-wing pilot. Alphabet Squadron is currently in need, and I'm sure Lark and Tensent could use the help…"
Bearcat's eyes widened at the generosity. On the one hand, he could take a posting closer to his sister to keep a closer eye on her, to shield her from any more physical harm than she'd already experienced. She'd already been wounded while he was away. Thoughts of taking meals with his sister, as they used to back on their home planet before they left and joined the New Republic filled his mind's eye.
Duty, on the other hand, smashed those thoughts just as quickly as they had formed. And pain reinforced the message. The dull throbbing of his injury was a reminder of the duty he must undertake to his brothers in arms. While he wanted to see things as Syndulla's eyes saw them, he knew that his duty lay with Renegade Wing, ensuring that no more of his friends suffered needless deaths that his presence could prevent. Having met his sister's direct superior, he felt her safety could be in no better hands.
"I apprrreciate the offerrr," he whispered back, rolling his sore shoulder subtly. "I cannot accept, unforrrtunately, as me and my Rrrenegade brrrethrrren have unfinished business to attend to."
Syndulla backed away, a lopsided grin on her face. She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Can't fault a general for trying, can you?"
A genuine laugh escaped his chest, the first he'd had in weeks. "No, I suppose I cannot."
***
Hours later, the siblings sat in the common area of Syndulla's Ghost. After a lengthy self-led tour full of awe at the history of their current lodgings, they finally settled down. They spent hours telling each other of their experiences and adventures, gasping at the dangerous moments, cheering each other's personal triumphs, and nodding in understanding at the mention of lost friends.
"So," Dhina asked as she poured another round of Green Milk Coolers and set them on the Dejarik table, "do you finally want to tell me what is actually bothering you? Or are we still doing this surface level shab?"
Bearcat feigned confusion. "Vhat do you mean?"
Dhina set the drink down in front of him and rolled her eyes. "Bosh it, Z! I know there's something actually bothering you aside from that balky shoulder of yours. Why haven't you gotten it fully healed yet, anyway? Renegade Wing can't afford Bacta or something?"
Bearcat unconsciously shrugged. "It… it reminds me of the night I failed."
Dhina nodded somberly. "Go on."
He sighed. "I thought I knew all of my shortcomings. I knew there was work to be done in the cockpit, forcing myself to keep looking at the bigger picture and not fixating on a target, that sort of thing. But, I thought there was no way anybody could beat me in a skin on skin fight…"
"But somebody did."
Bearcat nodded sadly. "Commander Feing. Imperial. Took me apart without even having to break a sweat."
Dhina pursed her lips. "General Syndulla shared the classified parts of the report with me once she realized we were siblings. You do realize he had cybernetic enhancements, right? It was hardly a fair fight."
Bearcat scoffed. "No fight is everrr rrreally fairrr."
"You're telling me," Dhina snorted. "You went into that fight with an already injured shoulder and had just crashed your fighter. If anything it was those injuries that cost you the fight."
Bearcat opened his mouth to refute his sister's point out of habit, but no words came out. Had he really misremembered the events of that night? All this time after that night he'd been beating himself up about not being fast enough, strong enough to defeat Feing, but had he really been able to do it if he'd only not been too hurt before it began? It was as if the walls around him began to crack, shafts of light blasting through where the barrier of self-doubt had been breached.
"We'll never know, I suppose," he said eventually, some of his feelings of inadequacy melting away. His sister's words rang true enough, but some part of his self-loathing clung fiercely to the negativity that had clouded his being since that night. He had been jostled from the crash, shoulder dislocated and disoriented, and also shot in the thigh by a low-powered blaster before engaging Feing, so maybe he might have been able to win without those injuries hobbling him. Unfortunately, he would never know, since Dragon had finished the man on the surface of Toseng before he could exact his own toll of revenge.
Dhina gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "I know, and that should be enough for you."
Bearcat nodded and smiled, taking a drink. "Thank you, sisterrr."
She frowned slightly. "What else is troubling you, brother?"
Bearcat pointed to his datapad on the table. Before she'd arrived, he'd been staring at the list of after action reports he needed to file, but had been too paralyzed by his own self-doubt to even start. "Those reports are … difficult to complete."
Dhina snatched the datapad from the table and began scrolling. After a moment, she smirked. "I file things like these all the time. Why can't you get them done?"
Bearcat paused, taking another drink while he pondered how to explain his predicament. After a few moments without a coherent message appearing, he shrugged helplessly.
"More of that pity party?" Dhina quipped, a wry smile on her lips lessening the barb of the comment. "You know, the key is to use 'we' a lot in these things. 'We found the target' and 'we scouted the objective'," she added.
"I just don't know how to put anything in a positive light," Bearcat grumbled, gesturing helplessly. "I'm neverrr good enough or fast enough to stop bad things from happening, it feels like."
Dhina snorted. "This is war, Zynnadi. Bad things happen no matter what you do or how good you are. Doesn't mean you have to beat yourself up over it after the fact when you're typing up a report when the bad things are out of your control."
Bearcat's mouth moved wordlessly. More of the barrier of negativity crumbled away, more of his guilt and self-doubt floated away as he thought about his sister's words.
Dhina scrutinized the datapad. "Let me cook up an AI tool to help you finish these things with a few fields for you to fill in while it generates the rest of the report."
Bearcat's eyes widened. "You can do that?"
"Brother, how do you think I got General Syndulla to like me so much? This is how half of her paperwork gets done. You just enter principle names and locations, select the type of mission, and any pertinent losses or accomplishments and the generator handles the rest."
Bearcat's jaw dropped. "And nobody notices?"
Dhina shrugged. "I don't think anybody really cares, so long as the job the report is outlining is actually done and you're not just filing fake reports."
Bearcat smiled, and pointed at his datapad. "By all means, sister, work your magic."
Dhina began tapping away, her fingers a blur. If her missing fingers slowed her down, the speed with which she worked betrayed no sign. After a few moments, she stopped typing and looked into his eyes searchingly.
"Are you … done alrrready?" Bearcat asked, not believing that she could complete what seemed like such a complex task so quickly.
"Barely even started," she replied. "But I think you need to go down to the sims and show that hotshot from Flare Squadron what a mistake he made by challenging you."
Bearcat was shocked. He hadn't yet told her about the challenge he'd received from the pilot in the hangar bay. Stunned, his mouth hung agape as he tried to fathom where she'd heard about it.
Dhina laughed. "Of course I heard about it. Word travels fast on this ship. So," she made a shoo-ing gesture with her hands, "go put that sleemo in his place!"
Bearcat smirked. "And leave you herrre doing my homevorrrk?"
"This is more like … helping you cheat on your future homework," Dhina chuckled. "But no, I can solve this part of your problems easily. I need you to go work out that lack of confidence on the only people capable of giving you a challenge in the cockpit."
"I doubt anybody herrre is anyvherrre close to the skill of a Rrrogue pilot," Bearcat snorted derisively.
Dhina cocked an eyebrow. "Don't be so sure, brother. There are some pilots here that have survived the worst the 204th Fighter Wing had to offer."
Bearcat remembered the foes his sister had built up during her recollection of events and sighed. "And herrre I thought I vas getting a brrreak durrring this leave."
Dhina shook her head. "Maybe you can have a few days to relax after you get rid of that nasty case of the 'can't-do-anything-right-because-I'm-the-worst'," she said playfully.
"But the whole point is to hang out with you!"
"Shoo," she said, waving her hand at him dismissively. "And change back into that Rogue Squadron flight suit of yours. I won't have my brother skulking about like a scared tip-yip. You're no good to me dead, and you won't be dead if you get that confidence back."
Bearcat sighed, knowing he couldn't change her mind if he wanted to. "Verrry vell, I'll go beat up on some pilots forrr you." He rose from the comfortable couch with a grunt and retrieved his black and gold flight suit from where he'd discarded it the moment he'd entered the room.
"Not for me," Dhina replied. "For you."
***
"How did you do that?!"
Bearcat shrugged, his shoulder not stinging as much as it had before the series of mock combat exercises he'd just completed. He levered himself out of the sim pod and accepted the sporadic congratulations from a few of the large crowd of spectators. The majority seemed unsure if they should cheer for the victorious pilot or if they should keep their defeated comrade's feelings in mind.
The Flare Squadron pilot's demeanor had changed since the first time they'd spoken when Bearcat had first arrived. Rather than the usual arrogance most pilots displayed, he was now angry. "I mean it, Rogue! How did you get your ship to just stop and flip like that?"
Bearcat shrugged, but added a cocky grin of his own as he remembered swapping nose for aft and blasting his opponent's digital fighter with an accurate laser salvo and a dumbfired proton torpedo. "That's prrretty common amongst the Rrrogues, to be honest with you."
The Flare pilot crossed his arms in disbelief, shaking his head. "No way something like that is possible in a real fighter. No way. The sim must be busted!"
"Actually, Lieutenant," a voice from the back of the crowd interjected before Bearcat could explain. All eyes shifted to the owner, and a ripple of murmurs shot through the gathered individuals as Hera stepped forward and rewound the footage. Once it reached the maneuver in question, her face fell slightly. "I've seen it in action. A single Imp nearly wiped out a squadron of A-wings, and he got two of us with this very maneuver, and he didn't have any warheads to help."
The Flare pilot seemed unconvinced. "And what happened when the rest of the squadron swarmed while he was dead in space?"
"His first head to head pass took out Phoenix One and Two," Hera grimaced, and then pointed at the screen. "So when he pulled this off, we didn't get the chance to swarm. He was back to pulling off an attack run that crippled our frigate before we could recover. Point is, this maneuver IS not only possible, but extremely deadly." She looked squarely in the Flare pilot's eyes. "You would do well to take this lesson to heart and figure out how to recognize and counter it. It just may save your life."
The pilot swallowed, but had the good sense to take heed of the General's words. He nodded, and then walked away as a few of his squadmates fell in step beside him.
Hera pointed at the screen again and nodded for Bearcat to look. "That roll you did right before the maneuver? That's exactly what the other pilot did before he wrecked Phoenix Squadron. Where did you learn to do that?"
Bearcat watched the screen, and shrugged. It took him some time to put into words what instantly made sense to him in the moment during the sim exercise. "I just felt like it needed to be done to set up the dead drift, General. Get your pursuit worried about which way you'll break out of a roll, and they're less likely to be ready for swapping nose for engines."
Hera nodded in understanding, though her face betrayed sadness at the memory Bearcat's maneuver dredged up. "That was a dark day," she murmured, nodding toward the replay. Her expression darkened as more thoughts flitted through her mind. "The early days of the Rebellion had a lot of dark days…"
After a few moments, she shook her head and looked Bearcat in the eyes. "But, it also had a lot of bright moments that kept us going," she said as she put her hand on his injured shoulder. "I don't know specifics and I'm not asking for them, but you need to remember the good moments to carry you through the sad ones." She chuckled as she removed her hand and shook her head. "Forgive me, Lieutenant. I'm just pretending to have all the answers. I'm full of bantha shab."
"No, no," Bearcat smiled, nodding in understanding. "I understand vhat you mean, Generrral."
"Good," Hera said with a smirk. "Don't let the bad days keep you down. Regardless of what you may think, Captain Clark wouldn't want you blaming yourself for his death, nor would he want you beating yourself up so much that you're combat ineffective. The last thing he'd want was you being so broken up about that night that you get yourself or your friends killed."
"I … understand," Bearcat choked out as he fought back some tears. How she had correctly deduced what was the source of his depression he didn't know, especially since she had admitted to not actually watching the holonet transmission. He squinted his eyes as he tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears. Drops began to bead at the end of his chin hairs.
Hera chuckled warmly as she reached up and wiped the tears away before they fell. "Now, I think it's time you go back to check on your sister's progress on your homework, and then the two of you think nothing of duty until it's time for you to head back to your post." She turned to leave after wiping another round of his tears away, and then wiping one of her own.
***
Bearcat felt refreshed, having done nothing but relax and spend time with his sister for the past three days. No other pilots attempted to challenge him in the sims, and no orderlies had interrupted their time together in search of the general. His reports had been caught up thanks to Dhina's new virtual assistance tool, now saved onto his datapad for future use. Everything felt… right. Even the weight he'd been carrying on his shoulders seemed to feel lighter. It wasn't completely gone, but he didn't think it was supposed to fully dissipate. What was left was a reminder, and motivation.
The only sadness he now felt was born from his impending parting with his sister's company. He wished they could continue to do nothing but hang out as they had for the past few days, but there was a war on. And they both had jobs needed doing, especially if it meant ending the war sooner so they could return to the state of being they'd enjoyed the last few days.
"Oh, one more thing, brother," Dhina said as she wrapped him in a hug.
"Vhat's that?"
"I just got word from the general," she whispered. "She said that it breaks her heart to have siblings part so soon after getting back together…"
Bearcat nodded. "It cannot be helped," he grumbled.
A conspiratorial smirk crept across Dhina's face.
Bearcat recoiled slightly, unsure what his sister meant beneath her words. "If she's going to trrry and trrransferrr me…"
"She gave me the access codes to the Ghost. If we promise not to crash or lose it, she's letting me fly you back to your ship, and then I'll bring it back. Should give us another day or so of light duty…"
Bearcat barked out a laugh. "Is this officially sanctioned, or are you going to get us thrown in the brig for stealing the general's ship?"
Dhina laughed as she began walking up the ramp. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
