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Hera
The Ghost was empty. It was always empty these days. But the presence of the other spectres still lingered. Sabine’s art still tagged the walls, Zeb’s old weapons were still stored beneath the dashboard. There were even traces of Kanan and Ezra. Hera saw them all around every corner. She couldn’t bring herself to clean the ship out. They were her family. This was their home.
But families change, and Hera’s was no exception.
Jacen is with Sabine, she reminded herself yet again. She had been repeating this phrase all afternoon anytime her focus began to waiver from the task at hand. Her son was far, far away from the impending battle on Endor. He was safe. Sabine was safe. Though, while she was glad the mandalorian would be out of harm's way, a part of Hera wished she was here.
Hera loved her work, but the larger the rebellion grew, the lonelier she became. She used to be part of a team. As messy and chaotic as it was, Hera missed the early days of the rebellion, when everyone was safe and closeby. How naive they had been back then. How much had changed.
And yet, the rebel fleet stood just beyond her windshield. Hera had watched it grow from disorganized rebel cells into the force it was today. She glanced at the empty co-pilot’s chair beside her, the one that used to be occupied by Kanan. Look what we built, she wanted to tell him. Look what we became.
The entire rebel fleet was preparing for the impending battle on Endor. Hera sat in her chair, watching her pilots dash back and forth across the hangar bay outside the windshield of the Ghost. She was still in awe of how many incredible pilots she got to fly beside. It was no substitute for her family, but taking to the air and folding into the ranks of so many other solo pilots helped Hera feel a little less alone.
She finally stood, preparing to go through her pre-flight checklist. Hera knew it would be wise to choose a smaller ship for this battle; something with more maneuverability, like an x-wing. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave her ship behind. Not today.
She had started this rebellion in the Ghost, and that’s where she would finish it.
…
Omega
Omega had already completed her pre-flight checks. Twice. There was nothing left to do but wait. She had never been very good at waiting.
She adjusted Tech’s goggles on her dashboard, her fingers lingering on their cracked frame. Would he have come with me? She wondered, the familiar ache in her chest greeting her like an old friend. She was on better terms with grief after all these years; she knew it required space to be felt. But as Omega surveyed her empty ship, she suddenly worried it had been given too much room to grow.
For the first time since those early years on Kamino, Omega felt truly alone. She hadn’t known how isolating it was, being a pilot. In all the times she had flown before joining the rebellion, Omega had never been by herself.
It was usually Wrecker who accompanied her when she traveled off world, always interested in exploring new places. He and Batcher would pile into the ship, fighting for the best seat. Neither one of them could ever sit still, but Wrecker was always happy to man the guns.
Crosshair never wanted to leave Pabu, but occasionally Omega could convince him to tag along on a joyride. They would skim across the waves, racing as far and as fast as she could push her ship. Crosshair would feign innocence when Hunter chastised them after they landed, claiming that Omega had ignored his pleas for her to slow down. But the truth was, Crosshair loved to soar. His years of retirement on Pabu had softened his edges, but occasionally he went looking for a thrill, and Omega was happy to give one to him.
Hunter was the worst passenger. He was a back seat driver.
“Don’t worry, I learned from Tech and Phee. I got this!” Omega would always shout, just before pulling out of a precarious nosedive at the last possible second.
Hunter would grip the edge of his chair, knuckles white. “That doesn’t make me feel better!” He would yell. But as much as Hunter hated letting Omega drive, he always sat beside her in the co-pilot seat.
Her brothers wanted no part of the rebellion. Omega understood; they had served their time and had lost enough. They deserved to be happy, and she supported their decision to remain behind on Pabu. But it was jarring, being here on Yavin IV without her squad. Omega didn’t know who she was outside of Clone Force 99. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready to find out.
…
Ganodi
Ganodi couldn’t bring herself to prep her ship.
She had always been the pilot. She was used to the distance separating herself from the rest of her crew during missions. She was used to the waiting, and the hoping. But it was different now. This wasn’t a mission she was simply completing with her crew, one where she called the shots. This was a rebellion wide battle. A hail mary. The rebel cells had been dissolved, absorbed into the greater rebellion. The rebels themselves had been reorganized, sent to different battle stations, slotted into a pre-established chain of command.
She had never felt so powerless at her controls. Ganodi wouldn’t be in constant communication with her crew. Her family. They would be on the ground, following someone else’s orders. Who was in charge of their squadron? Who was in charge of their lives?
There wasn’t much Ganodi trusted in the galaxy. Even after all this time fighting for the rebellion, she struggled to see how all of this would end. Many rebels got swept up in the hope of it all; in the promise of a better tomorrow. Ganodi had heard similar promises before, back in the time of the Jedi. Such promises chased at her heels when she ran away from the burning Jedi Temple, fleeing Coruscant as a traitor. Hope was dangerous. Ganodi didn’t trust hope.
But she did trust her crew. She believed in Zatt and Petro. In Gungi and Byph. In Katooni. When the Empire fell, if the Empire fell, Ganodi needed her crew to still be alive. She would never believe in the promise of a better tomorrow without them by her side.
They’ll be together, she told herself yet again. It brought her some comfort to know they would at least be looking out for each other in the battle ahead. But who is looking out for me?
Restless, Ganodi set off down the perimeter of the hangar bay. She needed to step away from her ship and clear her head. Get a grip. The quickest way to ensure failure in this battle was to have her head in the clouds. Ganodi had to be in the moment if she wanted even a chance of surviving to see the next one.
She spotted Omega sitting atop an abandoned crate near the far wall, already dressed in her rebellion-issued, bright orange flight suit. Omega waved at her, scooting down the crate and gesturing for her to sit. Ganodi hesitated. A part of her wanted to keep walking, but she knew she was unlikely to out pace her thoughts. What she needed was a distraction, so she crossed the walkway and dropped down beside Omega.
“Nice suit,” she said with a smirk. “You look like a traffic cone.”
Omega wrinkled her nose. “It’s the worst color,” she agreed. “Why did the rebellion settle on orange?”
Ganodi shrugged. “Easy to spot in a wreck, I guess.” Ganodi didn’t like the idea of being so easily identifiable. She had never worn one of the rebellion flight suits, and she didn’t intend to start today.
“I saw Gungi earlier,” Omega said, tapping her foot against the floor. “He told me about his assignment. What about the rest of your crew? Did you get to talk to them?”
Karabast. Ganodi was trying to get away from the image of her crew heading in the opposite direction just an hour ago, leaving her behind in the hangar bay. Luckily, she was saved from having to answer by a different voice.
“All prepped, ladies?”
Ganodi and Omega turned to find Hera Syndulla standing behind them, a smile on her face. Ganodi couldn’t help but envy how relaxed she appeared. Hera was as calm as ever, and had been so all morning. Ganodi had great respect for the General. Like all pilots, Ganodi preferred to be the one in control. She was never comfortable in the back seat, and wouldn’t dream of giving up her pilot’s chair. But if she ever had to choose someone else to fly her across the galaxy, that person would be Hera Syndulla.
Ganodi and Omega muttered their affirmatives, neither one sounding at all enthusiastic.
“Uh oh. What happened to my two most confident pilots?” Hera asked, dropping down onto the crate across from them.
The three of them hadn’t worked together for long, but Hera had taken to calling both Omega and Ganodi her “right hand women.” They were both headstrong, both outspoken, both always ready for a fight. But instead of separating them the way any logical leader would, Hera often paired Ganodi and Omega together.
There were a lot of answers Ganodi could give Hera. I’m scared I’ll be blown to bits. I’m scared when I get back here, my family won’t be waiting for me. I’m scared the price of our success will be too high to pay.
“Just pre-battle jitters, I guess,” Ganodi said instead, swallowing the truth back down.
Beside her, Omega nodded. “I’m still not used to flying alone,” she said quietly, eyes on her shoes.
Ganodi knew this was uncharacteristic behavior for the clone. Omega usually had too much energy, and she often reminded Ganodi of Petro. Omega had shown up a few months ago, all fresh faced and optimistic; a direct contrast to how Ganodi and most of the other old-timer rebellion pilots felt. Where they were cynical and slow, Omega was bright and breezy, bursting into their ranks like an overeager astromech. But Ganodi had to admit, the clone had brought new life to the squad, and she rather enjoyed spending time with her during training drills. Omega made her feel closer to her own crew, in a way. She had Petro’s energy, Zatt’s technical skills, and Katooni’s confidence.
“What makes you think you’ll be flying alone?” Hera asked. “What am I, chopped convor liver?”
“Not alone alone,” Omega rushed to clarify. “But I don’t know these people,” she said, tilting her head back towards the hangar. “They’re all great pilots, but I worked with my squad for years. I knew they had my back.”
“And I had theirs,” Ganodi added. “My crew is going to be on the surface, and there’s nothing I can do to protect them.”
She and Omega lapsed back into solemn silence. It was probably the longest either of them had gone without speaking in front of General Syndulla, and it was clear the Twi’lek was unsettled.
Hera leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees. “I know how you both feel. There was a time before all of this, when it was just me and the Ghost crew,” she said with a faraway look in her eye. “But everything started to change after I was promoted to Phoenix Leader. My crew started to go in different directions. I was sent on more and more missions without them as I trained the first rebellion fighter pilots.”
Ganodi turned her head to survey the booming rebel fleet. She had been involved with a rebel cell for years, but she couldn’t imagine how much work it had taken to pull people from across the galaxy into something this cohesive from scratch. Still, part of Hera’s story resonated deeply with Ganodi. Different directions. It felt like they were all being pulled in different directions these days. Ganodi had hardly spoken to Katooni and Gungi all week. She hadn’t worked through a list of repairs with Zatt in weeks. She missed them.
“How did you deal with it?” Ganodi asked, desperate for a life line.
“I poured my time and loneliness into my new squad,” Hera said, nodding her head towards the pilots moving throughout the hangar behind her. “Tell me, why did both of you start to trust your crew?”
Omega fiddled with the bandana in her hair, pulling it tighter. “They proved that I could,” she answered simply.
Ganodi nodded in agreement. “It took time,” she added.
Hera hummed in thought, considering the two of them for a moment. “Every crew has to start somewhere,” she finally said. “Someone has to offer the other their hand. Someone has to jump first.”
The Force will catch you. But first you must jump. The old Jedi teaching came rushing back to Ganodi. It was spoken by Jedi Masters while teaching younglings how to connect with the Force, but Hera’s words made her consider it from a different angle. Who had jumped first? Did her crew prove she could trust them? Or did she prove they could trust her?
“I’ll give you some proof: I know I can trust the two of you to have my back,” Hera said.
This surprised Ganodi. The General sounded so confident. She believed so fiercely in her pilots, it pushed Ganodi to recognize her greater sense of duty. It wasn’t just her own family that mattered. The people flying beside her into battle were counting on her to be present at her controls.
Omega sat up straighter; the full force of Hera’s words seemed to be hitting her as well.
“Neither of you are alone,” Hera said firmly. “The three of us can form a crew of our own.”
Ganodi wasn’t sure she could belong to another crew. But there was a time she had been sure she couldn’t be part of a crew at all, content to wander the stars alone. She glanced at Omega and Hera; these formidable pilots. Nobody touched her controls, but deep down she knew, if it came down to it, Ganodi would let both of them steer her ship. Perhaps that was her own form of proof.
Ganodi sat forward. “I’m in,” she said.
Omega’s face broke into a grin. “Me too,” she agreed.
Hera smiled. “There they are!” She exclaimed. “My confident, right hand women. Good to have you back.”
“General Syndulla, you’re needed in the briefing room,” a voice called a few steps away.
Hera nodded to the messenger, then turned her attention back to Ganodi and Omega. “We will make it through this,” she said as she stood.
Omega nodded. “Together,” she added.
“Together,” Ganodi echoed.
As she watched Hera and Omega walk away, Ganodi found she no longer needed to out pace her thoughts. She knew she would see the two of them in the air, flying by her side. The thought made her feel settled, as if she had landed on her role in the impending battle. She finally felt ready to finish prepping her ship.
Ganodi knew she was running behind schedule, so she made her way quickly back through the hangar. She was mentally running through her checklist as her ship came into view. Ganodi froze. Zatt was leaning against her ship, fiddling with a screwdriver. He was dressed in that blasted orange flight suit, his signature goggles resting against his forehead and a helmet bearing the rebel alliance starbird tucked under his arm.
Zatt lifted his head, his fingers stilling when he noticed her staring. “Why do you look so surprised?” He asked. “You didn’t think you were leaving without me, did you?”
Ganodi crossed the hangar, stopping a few feet away from him. “What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to go with Petro.”
Zatt waved his hand. “Petro can handle himself, and I know Katooni has his back,” he said. “Besides, I thought you could use your co-pilot.”
There was a time when she believed she didn’t need a co-pilot. After the massacre, Ganodi had been content to fly solo for years. Even after she reunited with her crew, Ganodi had often locked them all out of the cockpit. But times had changed. Zatt and the rest of her family had softened her up.
Ganodi couldn’t help herself; her face broke into a grin. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around Zatt’s neck and pulling him into a hug. Ganodi gripped his shoulders tightly, trying to anchor herself in this moment. I’m not alone.
Zatt hugged her back, a surprised laugh escaping him. “If I had known this is what it took to get a hug from you, I’d have threatened to leave with Petro a long time ago.”
Ganodi pulled away, rolling her eyes. She jabbed a finger against his chest. “Not funny,” she said, but she was still smiling.
“You were wrong about this outfit. I think this flight suit is really working for me,” he said seriously, failing to suppress his grin. “What do you think? Is orange my color?”
Ganodi snorted, shaking her head. “Absolutely not–”
A series of alarms cut her off. Pilots all across the hangar broke into a flurry, racing towards their ships. The time had come.
“Ganodi, time to go!” Hera yelled as she ran past, heading for the Ghost across the hangar bay.
“Copy!” Ganodi called. But she couldn’t leave yet.
She turned to Zatt, suddenly aware of how much hinged on the outcome of the battle ahead. It felt like all their years of running, and hiding, and fighting were colliding together. Everything was about to change. There was so much she wanted to tell him. There was no time to say it all. But they locked eyes, and she knew he understood. They didn’t need to say any more. They never did.
She and Zatt moved in unison, slipping into their familiar routine as they raced into the ship. Ganodi threw herself into the pilot’s seat and sped through the rest of her pre-flight checks, while Zatt took the seat beside her and readied the gun.
“All wings, report in,” Hera said moments later, her voice crackling over the speaker.
“Phoenix nine, standing by,” Omega responded, the liveliness back in her voice.
Ganodi activated her comm. “Phoenix four, standing by,” she said, gripping her controls. She peeled out of the hanger, rising quickly into the sky like a bird taking flight. Ganodi spotted Omega and followed her ship out in front. They settled into place just behind Hera, flanking the Ghost.
“Okay, ladies,” Hera said. “Let’s finish this thing. Together.”
“I’ve got your backs,” Omega said.
“And we’ve got yours,” said Ganodi.
She couldn’t do anything to help her family on the ground, but there was plenty she could accomplish in the clouds. Ganodi, Omega, and Hera had never been powerless in the sky. This was their domain. Flying together, the three of them would bring the Empire to its knees, and ensure they all survived to see the promise of tomorrow.