Storms (A Star Wars Fanfic)

PART 2

After ten minutes of seething, you entered the docking bay. The immense iron door blocked the sand for now, but preparations were underway to cover the equipment and ships with canvases. Even though the next sandstorm wasn't to come for a while, malignant breezes still carried sediment into the base.

You observed what was to be your transportation, requested by the Princess. It was a T-47 airspeeder. The airspeeder was a flat vehicle in which two pilots sat back-to-back with one controlling navigational tasks and one controlling surveillance.

A sense of sadness and nostalgia entered you as you inspected the speeder. The last time you had been in one of these, it was with Luke. You two had been assigned to scout for enemy droids on the planet Dantooine. You hadn't known how to pilot the vehicle back then, only being familiar with X-wings. You remembered Luke reassuring you: "Don't worry about it. I'll teach you." You could still hear your combined laughter in your head as you had fumbled mindlessly with the controls, accidentally opening and shutting the top in the process. You wondered if he remembered.

"Are you done?" he said unexpectedly from behind you.

You grimaced at the impatient tone of his words, then straightened your expression before turning to him.

"I was just making sure everything was in order," you explained, unsmiling. Asshole, you mentally added.

"Fine," he said dismissively. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'm eager to be done with this assignment. So let's just get out, get the droids, get back in, and it'll all be over. Alright?"

You were annoyed by his bluntness, but you nodded. "Yeah. Alright," you said begrudgingly.

Luke clambered onto the airspeeder and opened the top. He climbed in, sitting down in the front-facing seat. You followed him and sat in the opposite seat. You pressed a button on the control panel and the top of the craft descended, locking you two in.

"BAY DOOR OPENING COMMENCE IN 5...."

Luke started the engine, and the craft sputtered to life.

"4...."

Crew members on the ground floor began to scatter, hiding in rooms and behind pillars so as not to be attacked by the gusts of wind from the outside.

"3..."

You double-checked to see if the systems were still stabilized. They were. You could hear Luke flipping switches and pressing buttons in the front, and could tell he was doing the same.

"2..."

A lump rose in your throat as you heard once more the sound of laughter long gone, but you restrained yourself.

"1..."

"Ready for takeoff?" a voice said fuzzily through the intercom.

"Ready for takeoff," Luke replied stoically.

"Then may the Force be with you."

The bay door began to open with a groan that shook the entire base. As it crept into the ceiling, sand whirled around the entrance, and, as expected, blew inside. The tarps over the equipment below rattled with the strength of the wind, and you were bitter at the amount of work it would take to clean the sand out for the umpteenth time.

The T-47 airspeeder soon shot out into the dunes, with the Rebel crew wasting no time in closing the door again. You were off.

--
Hello! I'd just like to address something that's been weighing on my mind since I started this story: I'm not trying to make Luke Skywalker into some dumb asshole. It's just how his character is reacting to You after a long period of tension and fighting. I don't want to make it seem like I'm mischaracterizing him; I'm doing it on purpose, lol. Thank you. Just wanted to say that.