20 Questions
Goodnight Kiss

Fenig Durak sat in her usual booth, leaning against the wall, her legs bent and propped up against the table. As usual, she had a datapad and a stylus in her hands. Putting the end of stylus between her lips, she glares at the datapad, shaking her head in disbelief.
"I don't get it. I had all that business and I still lost money," sighing heavily, she drags a stray strand of her white streak behind her ear, still chewing on the stylus. Her thin streak of white hair sitting in stark contrast to her dark brunette hair. "I just don't get it."
"Don't get what?"
Startled, the stylus drops from her lips and she looks up into a set of bright blue eyes. The blue eyes smile warmly, his lips stretching into a charming smile. She watches him, shocked as he slides into the seat of her booth directly across from her. Over his shoulder, she spots a table of three men watching intently, a small pile of credits between them. She smiles wanly. "They're betting on you, you know."
He nods, his smile never wavering. "Probably on if I get slapped or not."
"Nice friends."
"We are Rogues. What do you expect?" He winks and she can feel the chills race through her. Her lower lip instinctively moving between her teeth before she smiles.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" She silently thanks the Force that her sudden nervousness doesn't show through her tone.
He runs a hand through his short, dark, wavy hair, holding his hand behind his head.
"I'm Wes Janson." His smile, arrogant as it was, betrayed a readiness for gushing and recognition.
"Uh huh, is that supposed to mean something to me?"
His shoulders slump in defeat. "Well yeah. It usually causes girls….er, women to get all crazy. I mean, Rogue Squadron is famous."
She smiles almost triumphantly that her supposed lack of recognition made him squirm a little. She knew very well who he was, and knew very well that the three men behind him were Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, and Hobbie Klivian.
"Well, who are you then?"
"Huh?" She shakes her head, becoming painfully aware that a short silence had passed between them. "Sorry. I'm Fenig Durak."
"Are you a pilot, by chance?"
She shakes her head lightly, her stray strand shaking itself loose again. Her eyes cross to focus angrily at it. "I used to be. I prefer fixing the ship rather than crashing it."
He gives her a pained smile. "You've heard about Hobbie then."
She shrugs lightly, her eyes once more moving past his shoulder to the blonde man making his way towards them. The two left at the table, mouths agape, clearly angry that he was about to win their bet.
Wes turns just as the blonde, Celchu, stops at the side of the table, an accomplished grin on his face.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend, Wes?"
Wes grins conspiratorially. "You going to give me half?"
Tycho's shoulders slump, and he looks across the table, a helpless look on his face. "I guess. But only if you promise to use it to take her out."
Wes nods eagerly. "Anything you say, Tych." He holds his hand out, indicating Fenig and smiles with much bravado. "This it Fenig Durak. Mechanic extroadinaire."
Tycho holds his hand out over the table. "Tycho Celchu. Please to meet you, Fenig."
Smiling warmly, she takes his hand and nods. "Please, call me Feni."
"Feni. I like it." His twinkling smile sends a wave of warmth through her that only breaks when Wes tugs Tycho's hand from hers. "Alright. That's enough. Isn't Winter around for you to bother?"
Tycho winks at Feni and ignores Wes by taking a seat next to him. "So you're a mechanic? Rogue Squadron has been without a chief mechanic for sometime. Maybe I could get Wedge to bring you aboard."
Wes sinks down in his seat, deeply unbelieving that Tycho is doing this.
"Wow, umm…if you could, that would be wonderful. My ship repair business is failing anyway."
Wes sits up immediately, his smile recovering from its lapse of anger.
Standing once again, Tycho motions to the table he recently vacated. "C'mon. I'll introduce you to Wedge and Hobbie."
She slides to the end of her booth seat, intent on standing before she sees the hurt look in Wes' deep blue eyes. Biting her lower lip again, she smiles up at Tycho. "Mind if we catch up to you in a minute?"
"Sure. Just don't let him convince you not to take my offer." On that, he turned sharply on his heels and returned, beaming, to his table.
She leans forward, her forearms resting on the tabletop. Her smile taking on a conspiratorial air, she whispers to Wes. "You really don't seem to be the accomplished ladies man that your reputation makes you out to be." With that, she stands, leaving a shocked Wes behind.

Wes rejoins his friends just as the introductions are ending and Feni has taken his previous seat, forcing him to pull up a chair. He eyes her thoughtfully, watching her smile and laugh at the jokes being tossed around.
"She really is beautiful. She's Corellian, I can tell. Her smile is too roguish. But it makes her hazel eyes sparkle," he thinks to himself. He leans an elbow on the table, studying his friends' reactions to her and how well she already fits in.
He shakes his head free of his own thoughts and enters Wedge's story of the time Wes spotted Chewbacca hanging from the bottom of Wedge's fighter. Far too familiar of a story for Wes, he's heard it hundreds of times, but this time was different. There was a spark of familiarity in Feni's eyes at the mention of Chewbacca.
Her laughter sounds like music in his ears, forcing him to shake his head again. Fighting the urge to drag her away from his friends so he can keep her to himself.
"So, Tycho tells me he offered you our chief mechanic spot. Care to give it a go?"
Her too eager nodding knocks her stray white strand loose again. Wes smiles, watching it fall across her nose. "Oh, that's way too cute. I love how she crosses her eyes to glare at it. Wait, what am I doing? Jeez, Janson, get a grip."
"I'd love to. It'd be great to be part of a squadron again."
Wedge quirks a curious brow. "Who were you with before?"
Her smile wavers for a quick second and she nods. "I was with Green Squadron at Yavin."
All four of the pilots' faces perk up.
"Were you flying?" Hobbie finally joins the conversation. He'd spent too much time staring at Feni for Wes' taste.
She nods again. "Yavin was the last time I've flown a fighter."
Wes' jaw dropped. "That was almost seven years ago. How could you go that long with out flying? I now the rest of us would go insane!"
She baffles them with a shrug. "I just lost the thrill of it after that."
"But…" Wedge cut Hobbie off with a glare. He holds his hand over the table to her.
"Welcome to Rogue Squadron, Feni. It's a pleasure to have a fellow Rebel aboard."
She shakes his hand gleefully and nods her thanks.
"At that note, I say we make our retreat." Tycho motions with his head to the door.
"Agreed. Hobbie?" Wedge gives Hobbie another glare, causing Feni to stifle a giggle.
"But, Wedge, I want to hear why she stopped flying."
She stands to give Hobbie room to leave, hiding her smile behind her hand.
"I'll let you beat me at a hand of sabaac. Give you a chance to win some of your money back." Tycho grinned, giving Feni and Wes a quick wink.
Sighing dejectedly, Hobbie nodded and joined the other two already heading for the door.
Wes slid into the seat across from her as soon as his friends were out the door, his flirtatious smile returning.
"You knew. That entire time, and you already knew." He shook his head in a mix of amazement and disbelief.
She offers him her crooked Corellian grin as an apology.
"I guess that leaves me at a loss. But I have one question."
"Shoot."
"Why didn't you shoot me down right away if you already knew?"
"What makes you think I hadn't planned on it?" Her own flirtatious grin giving her away that she didn't really have an answer for him.
He studies her face for a moment, attempting to find a hole in her cocksure smile.
"Can I buy you a drink?" He holds up his promised half of Tycho's winnings.
"I have a better idea. You accompany me home, I go to sleep, and see you in the morning in the flight hanger."
His shoulders slump in a defeat, but his smile admits to her that he can accept that. "On one condition."
"What's that?"
"I get a good night kiss."
It was her turn to slump her shoulders in defeat. "Alright, it's a deal."
He beams victoriously and offers his hand to her to help her stand. "Let's go then."
"What's the rush?"
"Well the sooner I get you home, the sooner I get my kiss."

20 Questions
Cadet

"No, Wes. I don't want to do it. I refuse." She crosses her orange clad arms over her chest.
"Oh come on. If you get all thirty targets under one minute, I'll buy you a drink." His broad smile and piercing eyes plead with her.
She sighs heavily and starts to climb up the ladder to the cockpit of Hobbie's fighter. "Won't Hobbie get mad that we borrowed his X-Wing?"
Wes replied with a shrug and a wink. Feni rolls her eyes and starts to power up the fighter. It'd been just under seven years since she had flown, and with good reason. Just after the Battle of Endor, she was bringing in her fighter to the landing bay of one of the capitol ships when, due to damage from dog fighting, her craft malfunctioned and she crashed in to the bay, killing 17 pilots and crewmen. She had seen the explosion from the cold of vacuum, waiting to be picked up by a recovery shuttle. Those deaths weighed heavily on her, and now she was afraid that Wes might get her flying again. She didn't have the heart to tell any of her new friends in Rogue Squadron about it, especially Wes. His respect meant too much to her.
"Feni, you're cleared for take off." Wes' voice in her ear pulled her back from her reverie, dumping her in her cushioned seat in Hobbie's X-Wing.
"One minute, you said?"
"Good luck."
She scowled and powered up the repulsors, slowly making her way towards the hanger's exit. Determined to show him up, as soon as she was clear of the hanger, she threw all power to her engines and rocketed towards the target range.
"Hey! Wait up!" He finally caught up to her just out side of the planet's atmosphere. "Where's the fire, Cadet?"
"Don't call me cadet."
"Alright, Feni. Three klicks away are thirty metal balls. They are stationary and in small clusters. Easy enough, right?"
"Shut up and start the timer, fly boy."
"Fine, fine. On my mark." He counted down from three, and barely as the word had left his lips, she slammed the controls forward, already trying for a lock on the largest of the clusters. As soon as she was within firing range, she loosed two short blasts of dual linked laser fire. Seconds later, eleven metal balls exploded. She wasn't paying attention; she had already banked to her lower left, targeting the next cluster of eight.
She executed a barrel roll to her right to bring herself even with the third cluster as the second erupted in a tiny ball of gaseous fire.
"Nineteen down, eleven to go."
She fired twin bolts of red at the grouping of five and pulled back in a tight vertical loop to avoid the blast.
"Thirty seconds."
Her sensor board screamed a target lock and she froze. Janson was targeting her. Why?
She shook her head and banked to her right, firing blindly at the remaining six balls. She pushed her control forward, diving down below the sudden explosion.
Smiling triumphantly, however nervously, she sent the fighter into a tight spin, overjoyed, however nervous, to be flying again. Her spin took her around, and left her facing the planet again.
"Not bad, Cadet."
"Wes, don't call me…" Her voice was drowned out by the sound of a target lock on her tail, her sensors screaming.
"Bang."
She jumped despite the calm demeanor the statement was delivered in.
"Why you little…I'll get you for that."
"Drinks are on me." He steered his fighter expertly away. "Oh, and Feni?"
"What?"
"You're reflexes are down. We'll have to work on that." The flirtatious laughter in his voice bled the anger out of her, making her relax, but she didn't answer, refusing to acknowledge that.

She met up with Wes at the door of the hanger. He reached up to her face, and she instinctively took a step back.
"Ok, so I was wrong about your reflexes. Here, you've got a strand of hair stuck to your forehead."
She held still while he brushed her characteristic stray strand of whitened hair from her face. She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder and smiled gratefully.
"What did you say about that drink?"
He offered her his arm and smiled admiringly. "I said if you were under a minute. You barely made it under the wire."
"But I still made it?"
"By a millisecond."
She jabbed her finger into his ribs, her nose wrinkled in a playful grin. "I might just give you that millisecond later, if you behave yourself."
He held up his free hand in mock surrender as the two of them made their way to the pilot's lounge.

They joined the already waiting Wedge and Hobbie at a corner booth in the lounge.
"How did it go?" Wedge looked anxious to hear if she passed or not. She had already proven herself an excellent mechanic, they were all curious to see if her talent included flying as well.
She slid into the booth next to Wedge, much to Hobbie and Wes' dismay.
"I did terrible. I barely stayed under a minute."
"How many targets did he set up for you?"
"Thirty."
"Wes, you told her that was bad? You didn't even stay under one minute with thirty targets on that run."
Wes' expression looked pained as Feni gave him a classic 'if looks were lasers' stare.
"Now I'm going to get the most expensive drink they have! Under one minute…" Her voice trailed down to silent grumbles that ended with a wink and a smile at a confused Hobbie.
"Let me guess, he offered to buy your drinks if you made it under a minute?"
"Yup." She beamed proudly.
Wedge and Hobbie smiled slyly at Wes.
"I never expected her to make it!" Wes' pitiful expression showed his great desire to sink into the cushioning in his seat.
"Feni, you did great. Passing is one minute, ten seconds. Congratulations."
"Thanks Wedge. Now, where's that waiter droid?" She glanced over her shoulder, not really concerned with finding the droid, just with making sure that Wes suffered. And by the looks of it, he was suffering deliciously.
Just as the squat droid rolled to a stop next to their table, the lights dimmed dramatically and alarm klaxons blared throughout the base.
The four of them made a mad dash for the door, sprinting to the hanger. They came skidding to a halt at the entrance as a voice took place of the alarm.
"Capitol ship, a Super Star Destroyer, has entered the area! All pilots to your ships! Evacuate immediately!"
Feni hesitated long enough to prompt a shove from Wes.
"It'll be ok. I'm on your wing."
She nodded and scrambled up the ladder to her newly assigned, barely functioning, X-Wing and rushed past her checklist, powering up her repulsors. It took her a moment and a few deep breaths before the dizzy feeling left her head.
"Feni? You ok back there?" Wedge's voice alerted her that she was being left behind.
"Sorry, lead. I had to stop for a drink." She laughs nervously, seriously dreading leaving the hanger.
"Well dump it and get up here."
"Copy lead." She whispered old Corellian curses at herself and rushed to join her squadron. She switched to a private frequency and sent a click to Wes.
"What is it?" His voice was rushed, but kind.
"I don't know about this, Wes."
"You'll be fine, just stay with me."
"Wes?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." She flipped back to squadron frequency and formed up with the other twelve Rogues, making her the thirteenth pilot. She shuddered lightly at the thought.

Not eight klicks past the outer atmosphere was a Super Star Destroyer. On it's flank was an Interdictor Cruiser, both ships teasing them.
"Lead, this looks awfully familiar."
"I know, Tych. They're covering the exit."
"How much do you want to bet they have friends on the other side of the planet?"
"Sith spit!" Wedge switched to a direct frequency to the base, not bothering to tune his squadron out of the loop. "Dual sets of Super Star Destroyers and Interdictors. Squadron is making a jump."
"Copy Rogue lead." The noise behind the voice from the base was of people rushing, gathering all the data and necessary equipment they could.
Switching back to squadron frequency only, he began transmitting multiple jump coordinates to the rest of the pilots.
"Make the jump, stay with your wing." Thirteen sets of affirmative clicks followed.

Feni flipped back to her private frequency to Wes. "Somehow I get the feeling that this is my fault."
"How do you figure?"
"Well, we're a thirteen strong group. Bad numbering."
"Feni, shut up and make the jump."
"Copy." Sighing, she pulled back on her lever and the stars became the familiar lines of hyperspace. What usually brings her a sense of calm did nothing for her this time. Actually, it made her more nervous.
En route, she studied the coordinates, a set of two jumps that would dump them just inside Corellian space. She shuddered. It may have been seven years since she'd flown, but it'd been almost a dozen years since she's been home to Corellia

20 Questions
Games

They had made it to Corellia safely, but she wondered about the people that were left behind on the planet.
Now, sitting on her bunk in her assigned quarters, her knees hugged to her chest, she watched in awe at Hobbie and Wes arguing over a hand of sabaac. She was starting to regret volunteering her large quarters as the social gathering place, but she will admit, it was entertaining watching them play.
"Alright, guys! Break it up!" Wedge now stood between the two friends, each hand on one of their chests, holding them apart.
"Maybe sabaac was a bad idea?"
Wedge nodded his agreement and steered the two to opposite ends of the room. Wes took a seat on the floor, his back leaning on Feni's bunk. Hobbie flopped down on the end of a couch against the other wall. The two glared at each other until Tycho spoke up.
"How about twenty questions?"
"Why?" Hobbie scowled from the couch.
"Because I said so, Lieutenant. And because we haven't gotten a good chance to get to know Feni." Tycho's order made Hobbie's scowl deepen, but he nodded anyway.
"I'll start. Umm, Feni, what were you doing before joining out merry group?" He cast a quick glare at Wes and Hobbie.
"What a boring question! Why not just ask her what kind of coolant she prefers?"
"Hobbie, I'm about to vent you out the nearest airlock." Wedge pointed a warning finger at him. All their nerves had been stretched tight since they arrived yesterday, and weren't being allowed to go down to the planet.
"Fine, I'll change my question," he turned his face back to Feni, attempting a civil smile. "Do you have family on Corellia still?" The innocence of his question stung her deeply, but she managed to fake a small smile and shook her head.
"Sort of."
"What do you meant sort of? Either you do or you don't."
"Well, my nanny still lives in my old home. But that's really it."
Tycho nodded, not really knowing what to make of that, but pleading with her to ask a question. She knew she had better make it a good one. The future of the furniture in her quarters depended on it.
"Alright, this one's a double. Hobbie and Wes," good, maybe this will get them on civil ground again. "What's the worst, or should I say best practical joke you've ever played"
Hobbie beamed. "My favorite is the item I put plastic sealant in Wes' boots!" He broke out into laughter that only stopped when he got hit with a pillow in the face.
Wes looked very pleased with himself. "My favorite will always be Lt. Kettch."
Everyone but Feni groaned softly. She just shook her head, stifling a laugh. "I've heard about that one."
"You have? I gave a specific order that Kettch was to remain a squadron secret." Wedge looked only slightly miffed.
"Right, and I'm part of the squadron now."
Wedge slumped down onto the couch next to Hobbie, obviously having been defeated once more by Lt. Kettch.
"Oh! I've got another one for Wes and Hobbie!" Her face lit up, only to waver when she tried to think of the best way to word her question. "Umm…who was your first love?" She blushed lightly, knowing that her question was truly ridiculous.
Hobbie's smile faded. She couldn't see Wes' face, but she was sure his expression hadn't changed since he threw the pillow at Hobbie.
Hobbie squirmed as he tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't make him look bad. “I guess I haven't really had one. Not one that meant anything." His frown prompted her to smile a warm apology to him.
"Cheer up. Maybe when you get to be 35, you and Wedge can get married. That's assuming you're both still single then. But I'm betting that's a pretty safe assumption." She had to duck behind a large pillow from her bunk to avoid being hit by the two pillows that came flying at her.
"What about you, Wes?" Her smile was innocent and inquisitive, but the other three crossed their arms smugly, already knowing the answer.
"Classified."
"What do you mean classified?"
"I mean, it's classified."
"Fine, be a spoilsport."
"I just don't want you pairing me with Tycho in my old age."
"Oh don't worry about that. I would never do that to Tycho." She scrambled to the far end of her bunk to avoid another attack, but none came.
Hobbie's thin lips stretched in an evil grin, his eyes twinkling brightly.
"I've got one for you, Feni."
She hesitated before nodding for him to ask.
"What do you think of Janson?"
She eyed Hobbie suspiciously, then leaned over the edge of her bunk to stare at Wes. "I think he's fine. Not too tall, not short. A bit on the arrogant side, but then again, what pilot isn't?"
Hobbie sighed and shook his head. "Never mind, I take my question back."
Wes moved, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"I've got one." He winked at his friends, but Feni had already sat back up in her bunk. "Feni, what would you say if I asked you out on a date?"
Her face felt hot, and she knew she was blushing. Her mouth opened to say something, but only a faint squeak escaped her throat. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard and tried again. "Are you asking, or just curious?"
"I'm asking."
Her eyes searched the faces of the three men that she could see for help. All she got were encouraging smiles. She had a distinct feeling that she had been set up. After another moment of strained silence, she leaned over the edge of her bunk to look Wes in the eye. She opened her mouth again to speak, but before she could, she was shocked to feel a set of warm, soft lips on hers.
Her eyes wide for a moment, she held her breath, trying to sort out what was going on. It finally sunk in. Wes Janson was kissing her, albeit upside down, but who was she to nit pick?
She heard her door hiss open and three sets of feet trying to make a silent exit. For three of the New Republic's best pilots, they sure couldn't be quiet.
“Ouch!”
"Shh! Hobbie!"
"What? You're the one who made me stub my toe!"
Even with all the noise, nothing could ruin this perfect moment for her.
After the door had closed, Wes broke the kiss, smiling up at her.
"How long have you been waiting to do that?"
"Since the second day I knew you," Wes laughed softly. "I guess that goodnight kiss had me hooked."
She smiled slyly, raising one of her tailored brows. To his perspective, it dropped.
"You know, for a reputed ladies man, you certainly are a softie."
He held a finger up to his lips, "Let's not let anyone else know."
"If it will make you feel better, I can tell the guys you got too eager and I had to slap you."
His smile brightened. "Better yet, we can act it out. I'd hate for you to lie for me."