Storms (A Star Wars Fanfic)

PART 1

"Leia, look at this."

Princess Leia Organa had been overseeing the air forces in the dimly lit control room when she looked up at you. Her expression changed from stoic general to confused amusement when she saw you holding out your hands. They were covered in scratches and coated with dust.

"What happened?" she asked, unfolding her arms and reaching for your damaged hands, turning them over to examine them.

You scowled as she did so.

"It's the sand, Leia. It's in every engine, every droid, every piece of machinery on the base. We only hear sand in our ears now. We cry sand. We breathe SAND."

Leia smirked at your outlandish exaggeration.

"So I've heard. And there's another sandstorm on the way, according to the scout droids. That's all they could transmit before they were hit by it."

She turned away from you and muttered something technical to a man at one of the computers. You weren't done, however.

"Leia, please listen to me. If you've heard this before, you know!"

Leia raised her eyebrow and looked back at you, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Go on then," she said sternly.

You sighed.

"We've lost two ships and seven droids this month due to sand damage. It's completely unmanageable for pilots and mechanics all the same. We can't function in these conditions."

You stepped closer to Leia, reminiscent of a salesman about to propose a deal.

"Can I make a suggestion?" you asked, with a small smile.

Leia nodded, her eyebrow still raised in intrigue.

"Well," you started, struggling to contain your eagerness, "back when I worked a cargo ship I came across a small planet by the name of - "

You were about to continue when you heard a familiar voice pipe up from behind you.

"What the hell are you doing?" it said, angrily.

You ground your teeth angrily, and turned around. Indeed, it was Luke Skywalker standing in the doorway with his fists clenched.

"Commander Skywalker - " you started in a faux mode of respect, but he could see right through it.

"Don't 'Commander Skywalker' me," he said in a mocking tone, "Leia has more important things to deal with than sandstorms. You are not to bring this issue forward again. That's an order."

Before the relocation to Tatooine, you and Luke had been two peas in a pod, so to speak. There was nothing that the two of you could not achieve when you worked together. In fact, some rumored that the closeness between you two was more or less romantic ("They're soulmates, alright. They're just too stupid to do anything about it," you had heard one X-wing pilot say when you and Luke walked past him. You both had blushed but nothing more was said on the matter). However, these rumors never came to fruition. They seemed even less likely when the two of you started arguing over the location of the Rebel base. Because of this, you were forced to treat him as your commanding officer like any other soldier; any ounce of your previous respect for each other had diminished and was long gone. It saddened you sometimes, when you saw him. It reminded you of missed opportunities, of waiting too long for the right moment. For now, all that was left of your relationship was extreme tension, avoidance, and, above all, annoyance.

Now, tears threatened to spring to your eyes at his last words: "That's an order." It was another nail in the coffin of what you two once were. Nevertheless, you swallowed the rising lump in your throat.