May the Fourth be with you!

Ana barely realized just how much she was muttering and cursing as she orchestrated the wrestling match between her hydrospanner and the starboard S-foil actuator on the X-wing she was perched atop. For D'Qar it was a particularly warm day and she had long since shed the top part of her jumpsuit, securing the arms around her waist, leaving her in only her sleeveless tunic. But it didn't help much. She was still obscenely hot. And the actuator was being particularly difficult.

Down below, she could hear R3-N3's frustrated chattering as he worked on the actuator adjustment from below. It nearly caused her to smile knowing the little droid was having about as much trouble with this as she was.

Sitting up for a minute to catch her breath, her faint hope that the breeze might cool her down fell flat. With a disappointed sigh, she nevertheless scrubbed the back of her hand over the side of her face, knowing full well that she was probably only replacing sweat with grime.

Around her the Resistance Base was the picture of organized chaos. Everywhere there were techs from a variety of fields scurrying this way and that, droids weaving in and around the clusters of personnel and officers striding purposefully from one bit of business to the next.

It was completely by accident that her gaze landed on the newest star of the Resistance. Not that she minded...Poe Dameron was not at all hard to look at. His reputation among the Starfighter Corps was growing greater with each passing mission, and he was poised to become a legend in his own right thanks to his impressive, albeit risky, moves when behind the controls of an X-wing. And he certainly looked the part of the dashing fighter pilot with his wind-tousled hair and charming smile. Ana couldn't help but stare...just a little bit.

But the actuator wasn't about to fix itself, so with a groan Ana forced herself back to work. Usually she liked tinkering and fiddling around the inner-workings of anything that could fly or drive, but today she was in a different mood.

Around her, a few patrolling X-wings were returning and another group of pilots were beginning their preparations to leave on different missions. Watching the fighters coming in for their landings and listening to others firing up to go out had sparked Ana's longing to fly. She considered herself a good pilot—a great pilot on days where she was feeling particularly confident—and had been flying since she was a child. But it had been a while. She wanted to join the Starfighter Corps, but her Aunt was hesitant to allow it. She didn't have the experience in fighters, after all, and as much as Leia knew Ana's wish, the Corps was filled with only the best and most experienced, each hand-picked from the Republic's Starfighter Corps and a variety of planetary defense forces from across the Galaxy. And she was also unapologetically protective. On some level Ana understood where her Aunt was coming from; both the General's perspective and the Aunt's. But couldn't she at least let Ana try and prove herself?

Finally, the actuator surrendered and Ana was able to get it properly realigned, relieved to have finished that particular task. Though tired and entirely too warm, there was a new bounce in her step as Ana hopped over from just behind the cockpit down into the pilot's seat. She knew that she could run the diagnostic from down below, but since her Aunt was keeping her grounded for the time being, it was a small comfort to even sit behind the controls. With a disappointed sigh as she fired up the converters to properly run the diagnostic, she glanced longing at the joystick.

Boy, did she wish her uncle were here...he always let her fly...

"You planning on going somewhere?" Ana was jolted from her musings by the amused voice that was suddenly over her shoulder. Swinging around, she found herself face to face with one Poe Dameron. His eyes were laughing at her, prodding her out of any shyness she might have been caught by. She had just wrapped up the diagnostic she'd been running as he'd interrupted her thoughts; her adjustment had more than done its job.

"Not while you're hanging off the side, I'm not. I can't imagine the General would like it if I dropped one of her pilots during lift-off," she answered back as she cycled off the motivators. He laughed for real.

"You even know how to fly this thing?" he asked after a moment, gesturing absently at the console. Ana allowed her eye to follow his gesture, permitting herself a small, self-assured smile.

"Since I was a kid, Commander. Besides, they tend to be easier to fix if you know how they work and what they can do." She stood from the cockpit, forcing him to back down the ladder or risk getting hit in the face as she levered herself out onto fuselage.

"You any good?" Ana couldn't help but laugh at the question. With the ease of long practice, she was down the ladder in a flash, standing nearly toe-to-toe with the Commander. She may not have the flight hours logged that many of the other pilots did, but she knew she was good. She hadn't encountered anything yet that she couldn't fly, be they snub fighters, speeders or freighters. She'd even flown a few races when her uncle'd had his racing gig. She crossed her arms as she gave him an appraising look. Neither had she missed the look he'd given her as she'd landed lightly on the tarmac.

"Are you?" she quipped back. That earned a skeptical expression, with his eyebrows rising rather higher than she might have expected. He mirrored her pose, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You do know who I am, right?" He sounded like he didn't seem quite sure whether he wanted to laugh again or be offended. Ana grinned roguishly. She was having fun.

"Some New Republic pilot."

"Some New Republic—ha! I can outfly anyone in the Resistance and certainly anyone in the New Republic Fleet."

"I'd pay credits to see you try."

"Oh?" There was a small crowd beginning to gather around them, other mechanics and pilots catching wind of the conversation between the Resistance's newest top pilot and one of its top mechanics. Not many knew, but those who had seen Ana fly knew she was good.

"Mm-hmm."

"And just who do you think is the best pilot," he asked, his eyes laughing again, his hands shifting to rest on his hips. He was enjoying this just as much as she was.

"How do you know you're not talking to her?" Ana's lip quirked as his eyebrows rose with skepticism again.

"You?"

"Me," she confirmed sweetly. A few of her supporters in the crowd snickered. A few of Dameron's scoffed.

"Why aren't you in the Corps then?" Ana had to consider her answer for that carefully; she didn't like drawing attention to her relationship to the General...that always brought inevitable questions about just how she was related to Leia Organa and she didn't enjoy getting into that.

"I'm a good starfighter mechanic. Someone needs to keep these ships flying. But I've been thinking about it." Not exactly a lie, but not quite the whole truth, either. She could live with it. He nodded absently, accepting her explanation.

"Alright, I want to see what you can do. Combat training flight. You versus me," he said, grinning mischievously. A few in the gathering crowd tittered excitedly. Ana smirked; Dameron smirked back. "Within the atmosphere." A mix of groans and excited calls replaced the tittering. Ana's smirk turned into a matching mischievous grin of her own. She stuck out her hand, a flutter of excitement in her belly when he shook it, grease and all.

"You're on," she said, not bothering to hide her confidence. A cheer went through the small crowd. There was a good bet that most of the base would turn out to watch before Ana and Commander Dameron even made it to their fighters. He nodded a salute as, after a moment—he seemed almost reluctant to let go, she noticed with a start—he dropped her hand.

"Half an hour," he looked over to one of the other Starfighter techs for confirmation that it would give them enough time to get the fighters ready before turning back to her for her response. She nodded back in agreement before giving an actual, albeit slightly more playful, salute back.

Though she had a flightsuit of her own, it took a little effort to track down a life-support unit since she didn't have one of those. Not that was intended for use in the T-70s, at least. Thankfully, one of her friends, Ali Grenar, who was an auxiliary pilot for Dagger Squadron, was able to lend Ana hers. Hopefully, though, she wouldn't need to borrow one after today.

Sure winning would be great, and the competitive side of Ana wanted to win, but even if she held her own against the supposed best pilot in the Resistance, Resistance Leadership would have to seriously consider adding her to the Corps. She had to do well. This opportunity had landed in her lap for a reason. She was going to seize the opportunity with both hands. Besides, she was dying to try out the maneuvers she'd been practicing on the T-65 in the quicker, more agile T-70. There was a particular feint she hadn't quite been able to perfect that she figured the newer fighter's more precise gyros and stronger repulsorlifts would be better able to handle.

As she was zipping up her orange flightsuit, a soft knock sounded on the door of the room where she was changing. As she turned around, her Aunt Leia was stepping across the threshold, shutting the door behind her. There was no doubting that word had quickly gotten to the General about the impromptu competition.

"You're sure about this, Ana?" Ana shot her Aunt a smile. She was so sure, but she managed to tone it back a little for Leia's sake.

"Of course I am."

"You are well aware he's our best fighter pilot. You think you're up to this?" There was no doubt in Leia's voice, only caution. Ana nodded.

"Of course...on both counts. I'm a good pilot too, Aunt Leia."

"Oh, I know you are. But have you ever actually flown a T-70?" Ana frowned a little at Leia, unable to hide her embarrassment.

"Well, not technically. But Aunt Leia, I learned to fly in a T-65. I flew the Falcon when I was eight..."

"Well, technically you helped fly it..." her Aunt interjected, but Ana didn't miss the ghost of a smile on her face. She also didn't miss the ghost of sorrow in the older woman's eyes, either. She pushed thoughts of that aside, though, focusing instead of what she was about to do. She shrugged into the flakvest and made quick work of the belts and harness.

"Fine. But I also flew it for real with Uncle Han. Don't forget I flew with him for a while after—before I flew with Reem. Besides, everything I've gotten into the cockpit of I've more than been able to manage. I'm good, Aunt Leia. You've seen my in the T-65. I can do this." Her tone went from confident to serious, trying to impress on the General that she knew what she was doing. It wasn't just bravado. After a moment, Leia sighed, shaking her head with exasperation. She picked up the life-support unit, handing it to Ana and holding it in place as Ana got it appropriately hooked onto her suit.

"You may not always like to admit it, but you certainly are a Skywalker," she said lightly, patting Ana's cheek. "I remember your grandmother telling all sorts of stories about your grandfather and his nerve in the cockpit. I'm sure you'll make him proud." Though she knew it was on the tip of her Aunt's tongue, Ana was thankful Leia didn't mention her father. She didn't want to be distracted by that emotional baggage just now. She finished adjusting her flightsuit and placed a quick kiss on her Aunt's cheek.

"Thanks, General," she said, a cheeky grin on her face. As she turned and practically pranced away, Leia called out after her.

"Please don't crash my fighter. They're hard to come by, you know."

"I know; if I crash it, I have to fix it," Ana tossed back over her shoulder. She knew her Aunt would be trying not to laugh at that.

She was so excited that Ana was on the fighter pad in moments and, before she knew it, she was settling into the cockpit, checking that N3 was securely ensconced in his socket. He beeped and whistled an excited affirmative that had Ana grinning all over again. He was obviously eager too; it had been a long time since he'd flown in a fighter himself. He'd had the opportunity—good astrodroids with fighter experience were in high demand—but he always seemed to prefer staying with Ana, something she didn't mind.

"You're sure you want to go up against Dameron?" As she was settling in and firing up the fighter, one of the other pilots, Snap Wexley, had poked his head into the cockpit. She often worked on Snap's fighter, so she'd gotten to know him fairly well.

"You know, you're not the first person to ask me that," she said, making a few final adjustments to her helmet and comm. He sighed, shrugging a little.

"Okay. I've heard you're good, but man, Adyé, so is he. That man was born to fly."

"Do I detect doubt, Snap? Have you ever seen me fly?" He hesitated.

"Well, no." She shot him a reprimanding look. After a moment he shrugged again. With the fighter nearly ready to go, he had to shout to be heard over the droning of the impellors and the rumble of the engines. She nodded along with his instructions, so he knew she could hear him.

"Alright then. I don't know if you've used training gear before, so here's a rundown. Everything's the same, pretty much, except you're firing electronic signals instead of actual lasers." She shot him another look, one that clearly said 'duh'. Of course she knew that; she'd swapped out live arsenal with the training modules and back time and time again. He gave her an admonishing glance of his own before continuing, "but that also means there's going to be a delay in firing but the time it'll take to register on the other fighter won't be as affected by distance as a regular blaster. So it might take a little getting used to. Also the T-70 is a bit different than the T-65, Adyé. Ah—" he held up a hand before she could interrupt, knowing what she was going to say, "I know you've only flown the older models. The T-70s are faster and can turn quicker. Don't overcompensate. And you don't have to jack over the controller the same way for inverted peel-outs." She fought against giving him a blank look. She never thought that hard about flying. It was mostly intuitive for her, the ship telling her when it reached its limits. He patted her helmet.

"You'll do fine. One last thing, atmospheric flights are different than space ones. These fighters aren't bad within the atmosphere, but there's more drag, which can mess with your controls a bit because of the turbulence. Think you can handle that?" Ana shot him a wicked smile as he leaned back out of the cockpit.

"That's what makes staying in-atmosphere fun, Snap," she shouted out at him as she hit the control to seal the cockpit. Across the strip, Dameron was already beginning to lift off the ground. As the both of them pulled away from the landing pad, the remaining ground crews and onlookers scurried up the hangar mounds, joining the crowds already gathered to watch the fun.

If she'd been in the old T-65 she sometimes took up, she'd have been tempted to get fancy with her lift-off. But she wasn't stupid. She might have scoffed at Snap's reminder that the T-70s were just that little bit different than their predecessors, but she was well aware of that fact. After all, she got up close and personal with the inner workings of both fighters regularly. She was well aware that certain components had been improved upon since the T-65's heyday during the Galactic Civil War. So she resolved to take it easy at first.

Besides, she thought wryly, it might lull Dameron into a false sense of security.

They were both allowed a few turns over the area set out as the limits for their dogfight to warm up the fighters: no farther than the inner atmosphere, as far as 5 clicks from the base in any direction but no further. She loved watching these competitions herself. And it wasn't Dameron's first. In the first few months that he'd been with the Resistance, he'd flown in three. It was a hierarchy thing among pilots, as well as a way to test and hone the newcomer's capabilities before an actual combat mission and give their new squad mates an idea of they were going to be working with. It also meant Ana had a bit of an edge. She'd seen him fly before. He didn't know anything about how she flew.

Then a voice came over comm telling them that the contest had begun. Ana and Commander Dameron both locked their S-foils and gave themselves over to the fight.

Immediately, both of their fighters seemed to snap to face the other. It was an unspoken rule of these types of contests that there was a first run toward each other; a salute of sorts, but also a test of each pilot's nerve before the actual dogfighting began to see who would peel off first. Ana knew this well. She also knew it was the expectation.

So instead of flying right at him and seeing who lost their nerve first, she bucked tradition. As soon as she was in firing range, she flung her fighter into a sharp upwards roll, accelerating as she went. She knew most pilots wouldn't expect it and knew that in most cases, it would have put her in a great position to take up the attack.

But he wasn't a regular pilot, she noticed with a grin, even though he still hadn't been expecting her first move. He hesitated in compensating for her changing her vector so abruptly, and though he wasn't left quite as exposed to her attack as he might have been otherwise, he was still at a disadvantage almost right out of the gate.

But damn he was good. Ana managed to hold her advantage without doing anything too drastic for a few moments, nearly pinning him in her sights twice, but he had soon managed to execute a sharp, curving dive that went into a climb that threw her. After that, they were fairly evenly matched. Every turn she made he countered with a spin, and every dive he attempted she dumped her speed to keep away from his following climb.

A couple times he nearly had her, and she very nearly got him back. Ana's grin quickly began to fade into an expression of pure concentration.

The turns quickly grew sharper and the dives lower. A few times, Ana actually skimmed the treeline and Dameron came very close to taking out a sensor array with the outer edge of his upper port S-foil during a turn. Ana was actually beginning to surprise herself with some of the maneuvers she was pulling, even managing to fly in sync for a few seconds during one of Dameron's complex starboard rotating climbs. It was almost an accident, but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

Dameron was a gutsy flier, thus the best way to best him was to be even gutsier. Well, Ana could do that. As he circled around, sharply ducking in toward her, she decided to risk her untested feint. As he dove toward her, she gunned the engines and shot over him, killing her thrust and twisting her fighter up and over nearly a hundred and eighty degrees, placing her squarely behind him

But then she miscalculated, over gunning her thrusters as she re-engaged them.

And she overclocked on her leveling rotation.

It meant that he not only had time to recover, but was able to swing his own fighter around and almost before she knew it, he was locked on and taking the shot. She nearly got herself out of it too but, in compensating for her speed, her port roll was sloppy. Had he been using real lasers, he would have taken out her lower port manifold and she'd have lost power quickly. With a groan Ana listened as the voice over the comm that had started off the competition declared the match over.

But still, it was a heck of a flight. Ana's heart was still crashing around in her chest from the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the ecstatic grin was trying to reemerge on her face. She hadn't flown like that in a long time...to be entirely honest, she wasn't entirely sure she had ever flown like that. She hadn't had to hold herself back.

Damn, it was a good feeling.

As the hatch hissed open once she was back on the ground, Ana pulled her helmet off, letting out an exhilarated breath before shucking her restraints. There was already a group gathering at the base of her ladder, and as she pulled herself free from the cockpit a faint cheer went up from her new entourage. Behind the cockpit, N3 was preparing to drop down from the socket, whistling and chortling happily as though they had actually won. To Ana the feeling was mutual. It was hard to feel even a little down about blowing the match when this sort of reaction greeted her. A wide smile split her face and she gave a small salute. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Dameron disembarking himself. He had paused for a moment, straddling the frame of the cockpit, and was currently looking across the landing pad toward her. As she turned to look directly back at him, he shot her a salute of his own. Ana's smile widened involuntarily.

By the time she reached the ground, the growing crowd from around her fighter and Dameron's had begun merging. As she elbowed her way deeper into the fray she caught sight of Snap and Ali. Snap flung out a hand, catching hers in a hard congratulatory shake.

"You were right about the speed," she shouted over to him, still unable to stop grinning, "I wasn't expecting to be going quite that fast coming out of that kind of turn." Snap laughed.

"Still not bad for a first run," he hollered back. Ana bowed her head dramatically in acceptance of his praise. Laughing, she began working on her gloves, brushing back the stringy strands of dark-blonde hair clinging to her cheeks once she had them off.

"First run?" Dameron had somehow appeared on her left, and for a bewildering moment Ana felt her cheeks beginning to warm. He was looking down at her incredulously, his lips quirked in an impressed grin. Ana shrugged, a faintly sheepish expression flitting across her features.

"As far as X-wings go, I've only ever had the chance to fly the T-65s," she explained, not entirely sure he'd be able to hear her over the crush of people around them, "I've never actually been up in a T-70 before, except when they're on the ground. I usually just fix 'em." He shook his head a bit before landing a hand on her shoulder.

"I think I owe you a drink."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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