and Lucasfilm, with exception of the characters Jenna Sinclair/Shadow, and

Jayden Larris, which belong to me, Wraith Squadron characters (Aaron

Allston). No money is being made off this story, I just wrote it for fun.

Enjoy the story, the ending is pretty funny!!!! Jenna's character is

loosely based on Lara Notsil of Wraith Squadron, and her 'relationship'

with Myn Donos.

Scenes are taken from 'Iron Fist.'

Historical note: This story takes place during the X-wing book 'Iron

Fist.'

Author: Asyr Sei'lar (my alias)

Synopsis: This is just a short story about what it would be like to date

pilots from Rogue Squadron. A silly story, but the ending's kinda funny. I

plan to have sort of a series of these types of stories, including maybe a

date with commando Lieutenant Page.

Date With Wes Janson

The globe of light shifted color as it bounced up into the air. It

finished its arc, but a sudden swipe of one player's staff sent it

careening back into the air.

A sudden tone sounded, indicating the game was finished. Both players took

off their helmets, revealing sweaty faces underneath. Jenna grinned as she

shook her hair out. "Nice game," she commented.

"You're not too bad yourself," said her opponent and NRI partner, Jayden

Larris. "You play a hard game of shockball."

"So," she asked as they exited the shockball court, "do you know if

General Cracken has given us a new assignment?"

Jayden's smile faded. "He's given you one," he said quietly.

Jenna stopped and turned to stare at him. "What do you mean, he's given me

one?" she demanded.

"I mean," he told her calmly, "that's he assigned you to analyze Zsinj

data with Wraith Squadron to figure out what his next major move is going

to be. Cracken thinks you're the best person to liaise with them from

Intelligence."

Jenna stared at him, aghast. "But . . ." she sputtered, "they're pilots,

not intelligence analysts."

"They did discover the edge of Zsinj's financial empire," he reminded her,

"which not even all of the Intelligence section devoted to him was able to

find. Besides, they do have Wedge Antilles as their leader. He has a

pretty sharp mind."

"Still . . ." She hesitated. "To be relegated to such a mundane

assignment, especially with all the missions we've pulled off . . ." She

looked up at him. "What about you? Any new assignments?"

He shook his head. "Just the same old routine. Analysis of Zsinj data."

With a small smile, she asked, "Want to trade?"

He laughed. "No thanks."

***

Jenna skulked at the back of the hangar, knowing full well how conspicuous

she looked in her blue-and-tan NRI uniform. She glanced at the center,

where the Wraiths were assembling for a meeting with their commander.

Jenna glanced at the new Wraith pilots who were joining the squadron.

There was blond, messy-haired man, a dark-skinned woman with a bead

braided into her hair, and a Twi'lek woman with surprisingly attractive

features.

"Lots of news today." Jenna's attention turned to Wes Janson, the

squadron's second-in-command. "Most of it good, some bad."

"Bad news: I'm back. Bad for me, because I was enjoying my rest, and bad

for you, because if some of you had been a little quicker, I wouldn't have

been shot. Keep it in mind as I make up assignments over the next few

weeks."

Jenna couldn't help herself; she laughed. The sound, though, was covered

by the collective groans erupting from the Wraiths. Hmm, maybe this

assignment isn't going to be too bad after all...

"Runt, also, is fit for duty, which is probably both good and bad, because

some of his personalities enjoy working and some don't."

Personalities? Plural? She frowned. Must be that Thaakwash pilot I heard

about.

"We have new pilots to fill our rosters. I present to you Flight Officer

Castin Donn, our new computer specialist. Castin is a native of Coruscant,

so the next time we decide to walk into a trap here, we'll take him along

to make sure it's a better grade of trap." The blond-haired man nodded

cheerfully.

"Flight Officer Dia Passik is a native of Ryloth. She has experience with

a broad variety of New Republic and Imperial vehicles, especially larger

space vessels, and knows quite a bit about criminal organizationshe's a

new resource for us where things like smuggling and mercenary operations

are concerned." The Twi'lek watched everyone warily, as if trying to

decide their threat level.

"Our third pilot is Flight Officer Shalla Nelprin"

"Oh, no," Kell Tainer said. He banged his head against the fuselage of an

X-wing.

Jenna smiled as Wes Janson asked, "You have something to say, Lieutenant

Tainer?"

Kell stopped hammering the snubfighter for a moment. "You're related to

Vula Nelprin?"

Shalla's smile broadened. "She's my older sister."

"And your father trained you, too?"

"Yes . . . though I think I'm a little better than Vula."

Kell sighed. "I think I've told you all about my hand-to-hand instructor

in the commandos, the one who could throw me around as though I were a

dust rag without even letting me see her sweat this is her sister."

Jenna fought to keep her laughter down. That's itI really like this

squadron . . .

Janson said, "This should come as no surprise to you then: Nelprin is

going to be our new instructor in unarmed combat. You make her the best

pilot she can be, and she gets to reward you by beating the life out of

you. But she's also well versed in Imperial Intelligence doctrine and

tactics, which is helpful to us, since Zsinj seems to be fond of employing

Intelligence personnel. Wedge?"

Jenna looked at Shalla. Intelligence, huh? In that case, this should my

job a lot easier . . .

Wedge said, "Make the new pilots welcome, Wraiths. We're going to put

them, and you, immediately to work on a new mission. I've just transmitted

to your datapads the details of our assignment . . . one which,

unfortunately, won't take us off Coruscant yet." He waved down the chorus

of groans that resulted.

"Sorry. But our results on this task may determine where we're assigned

next, so pay attention.

"Our efforts in tracking Admiral Trigit and insinuating ourselves into his

confidence have gone over very well with High Command. We've demonstrated

that we have both skill and luck on our side. But now we have to prove it

beyond doubt.

"We're going to divide ourselves into three groups. Each group is to ask

the following questions: What is Zsinj up to? What are his specific plans

and strategies? Once you've arrived at a set of theories, we'll put them

to the test: We'll go out into the field and look for evidence to

corroborate the best of the theories.

"I'm choosing three of you to head these groups based on your ability with

tactical thinking and skill in getting into your enemies' heads. Runt,

you're Zsinj-One, Piggy, Zsinj-Two, Face, Zsinj-Three."

Wedge nodded at the far end of the hangar where Jenna was. "For the

purposes of this assignment, Jenna Sinclair, from New Republic

Intelligence, has been assigned to us. If you have any questions regarding

information on Zsinj, Jenna's the one to ask, Wraiths. She knows more

about Zsinj than anyone here."

Jenna nodded at the Wraiths as she approached them. Wes Janson found

himself studying her closely. He shook his head and looked away. What's

wrong with you, Janson?

Jenna glanced sharply around at the Wraiths. "Nice to meet you," she said

casually, but there was no friendliness in her voice. On the contrary; it

was all business.

The groups began forming. Runt chose Kell, Tyria Sarkin, and Shalla. Face

took Ton Phanan, Wes Janson, Dia, and a fourth team member, Jenna. Piggy

picked up Myn Donos, Squeaky, the unit's 3PO quartermaster, and Castin.

The groups separated, picking meeting places and times. "The lounge," Face

told them. "In two hours."

"Understood," Jenna said curtly, answering for them all.

***

Jenna returned her quarters, feeling more tired than she had before. She

had about an hour and a half before she had to report to the lounge.

She changed into a more comfortable jumpsuit, then tossed her uniform onto

her bed. She sighed as she slipped into the chair facing her desk.

She activated the comm unit on her desk, slipping a disk into it as it

warmed up and asked for her password. She told it, at the same time

telling it to access the disk.

The disk had been given to her three months previously, by Warlord Zsinj,

before she entered New Republic employ. It contained instructions for

Zsinj's private, coded frequency.

Almost immediately, the corpulent warlord's face flickered onto her

screen. "Shadow," he greeted, as if they were old friends, "anything new

to report?"

"I've been given a new assignment," she told him. "I'm to liaise with

Wraith Squadron as they try to analyze data on you and predict your next

actions. This would be a good opportunity to see exactly what information

they have brought back with them. I don't exactly have clearance or access

to their reports."

Zsinj's eyebrows rose in respect. "Good work, Shadow. You will be rewarded

for this."

"Whatever," she growled. "Shadow out."

She sighed as she looked out her window at the crazy traffic. "Shadow,"

she snorted. "What a name to choose." She reflected as her old days in

Imperial Intelligence under Ysanne Isard. How much more efficient II had

been, how much more highly placed and secretive she had been, yet how much

more cutthroat the place had been than NRI.

Shadow had been her code name, a name she'd personally chosen. She

answered only to Vader, having been, in ways, even higher in rank than

Isard. Then Vader had been killed, having turned to the light side, a

decision she approved of. She continued playing the role of an unknown

double agent, feeding information to the Rebellion, as she continued her

'information-gathering' duties for the Empire. The Empire is bad, she

reminded herself. Like Zsinj. I made my decision long ago. I may have been

trained as a Sith, but Vader couldn't erase all the values my parents

instilled in me. Besides, all he taught me were basic Jedi skills, enough

to ensure maximum efficiency in my intelligence activities.

The New Republic had provided her with the first sense of belonging since

her biological family. She was seriously considering staying, but didn't

what the exact repercussions would be, if Zsinj would come after her.

She glanced at her chrono. "Yikes!" she yelled, jumping out of her chair

and running into the corridor. "I'm late!"

***

The false canopy of the X-wing simulator hissed open. Jenna jumped out and

landed in a crouch. She straightened up and bounded over to the bar in the

corner. She ordered a Corellian iced caf and brought it over to one of the

sofas scattered around the room, lending half an ear to the chatter that

was flowing freely among the group.

Wes Janson, lying on one of the adjacent couches with a tumbler of Churban

brandy at his head, smiled. "Nice run, Jenna."

"Which?" she asked. "The flight? Or my dash over to the bar?"

"Both," he answered, laughing. He frowned in mock-fury. "You steal all my

best lines," he complained.

She cocked her head. "Isn't that my job?" she asked.

He laughed again. She smiled in return, feeling relaxed for the first time

in years. She took a sip of her drink. "You seem to be a fairly able

pilot, at least in the simulator. Maybe you should apply for Wraith

Squadron. If only to get where most of the action is these days?"

She smiled mockingly. "I don't know if I want my reputation muddied by

being associated with a screw-up squadron," she answered. Her smile grew.

"Or with the bunch of pilots who aren't screw-ups but are still lunatics."

"Are you calling me a lunatic?" he demanded, with a hint of amusement in

his voice.

"I never said anything about you specifically, did I?" She rose and

brought her glass back to the bar. The bartender sighed and took the glass

away.

She stopped in front of the couch where Janson lay. "Gotta go," she said

casually. "I have a meeting with General Cracken. Just to report whatever

we've come up with already." She sighed sadly. "Sometimes seems as if this

war's never going to end."

Wes rose and hugged her in a brief but consoling embrace. He held her by

the shoulders. "Hey, someday it'll all be over, and you'll be craving the

excitement of the past."

Her smile was brief and weary, but genuine, quickly replaced by one that

seemed too bright. "Thanks for the encouragement," she said wryly. "You

really know how to make a girl feel better."

She gave him a short kiss on the forehead. "Thanks for everything," she

said, then slipped away from him.

Just at that moment, Hobbie Klivan of Rogue Squadron and Wedge Antilles

came in. "No fair," Hobbie complained. "Why is it all the beautiful women

are attracted to you and Wedge, but not me?"

"Maybe it has something with our roguish charm," Janson said impishly.

Later on in the day, writing her latest report, when the door chime rang.

Startled, she rose too fast, banging her knee against the desk.

"Sithspit," she swore.

"Come," she called at last. The door opened to reveal Wes Janson. He was

grinning. "I could hear you swearing through the doors," he commented.

She grimaced in pain. "I banged my knee on the desk," she explained. She

raised an eyebrow at him. "I assume you came here for a reason."

His grin faltered. "Um, yeah," he stuttered nervously. He looked away from

her.

Jenna narrowed her eyes. This isn't like Janson. What's going on? "Okay,

Janson, out with it."

A hint of the old Janson sparkled mischievously in his eyes. "What do you

mean?" he asked innocently. He put on a hurt expression. "Nothing's going

on."

"Yeah, right," she muttered, "and vornskyrs are tame. Come on, Janson,

what are you up to?"

Still with that endearing hurt expression on his face, Janson looked at

her. "This from the woman who kissed me?"

"It was brief," she reminded him. "And more friendly than romantic." She

shivered, so slight that it went unnoticed by Janson. Endearing? That

endearinghurt look? Be careful, you're treading into dangerous territory.

Can't get close to him; might break your cover. What are you going to do

then?

"So," she said impatiently, "are you going to tell me what you came here

for or not?"

His face softened. "I wanted to know if you'd like to come to this new

restaurant with me that just opened up? Of course," he added hastily, "I

completely understand if you refuse."

To her complete surprise, she said, "Sure, I'd love to come." His face

split into a huge smile. Jenna felt herself blush. She knew, in a way, she

had taken a step toward staying with the Rebels. Who cares if they find

out? I'm staying. She quickly became brusque to hide the blush. "When and

where?" she demanded.

"Tomorrow, if you don't mind," he said, glancing up at her. "I'll pick you

up at 1900 hours and fly you over."

"Tomorrow's fine," she said. She smiled. "That all?"

"Yes," he answered dreamily. She noted in amusement that his mind seemed

to be in hyperspace when he drifted out the door.

She's coming, she's actually coming! he thought happily. He walked back

towards his quarters, barely noticing the greetings people gave him in the

corridor.

The sight of Wedge Antilles waiting for him by his quarters finally

brought him back to Coruscant. "So?" Wedge asked casually.

"She's coming," he answered briskly, hoping to hide his blushing, which

seemed to happen whenever he thought of Jenna.

"Good." Wedge smiled. "So if anything goes wrong, and she finds out, we

can blame this little joke on you."

"Right," Janson said absentmindedly. He didn't catch the strange look

Wedge gave him.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" The sound of Wedge's voice startled

Janson out of his reverie. "Come one, are you?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," he said. He smiled bitterly. "She's the most

beautiful woman I've ever seen, the first one I've really been 'attracted'

to."

"True enough." Wedge glanced at his second-in-command. "So why are you so

bitter?"

"Because she never fully relaxes with anyone. Not even me." Clearly, the

thought rankled him.

"Resistant to your jokes, is she," Wedge jested.

Wes gave him a sharp look. "Get serious, Wedge. It's the reason I arranged

this so-called 'joke.' I want her to relax more. And yes," he added before

Wedge could, "because I'm in love with her." He looked off into space. "Do

you think she will?"

"Can X-wings fly?" Wedge asked rhetorically. "There's always a

possibility, Wes. Besides, we're both former Rogues, right? Impossible

doesn't exist in our vocabulary."

The restaurant was elegant, and the lighting dim and romantic. She glanced

at Wes, who was reading his menu. He caught her glance and smiled wryly.

"See anything you like?" he inquired.

"The bruised brualki sounds good," she told him. "Maybe followed by

something else. I'm not sure yet."

He nodded. "I'm not sure myself," he admitted. "The smoked nerf sounds

good, but so do the ribs."

She smiled, and they both returned to their menus. Her emotions were in

turmoil. What's wrong with you? The restaurant's great, the food is

supposed to delicious, and the company is certainly welcome. So why are

you nervous?

The waiter stepped up to their table and they ordered drinks and dinner.

He took their menus away, leaving Wes and Jenna alone. "So, how do you

like the restaurant so far?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she replied, "but I can't really judge it until I've eaten."

He chuckled. "True enough," he admitted. They fell silent. Jenna stared

off into space, obviously thinking about something. Wes found he couldn't

keep his eyes off her. He admired everything about her: the long,

sun-blond hair swept up into a chignon, the green, feline eyes as

unreadable as a cat's, her long, lithe form, the blue-green dress she wore

that clung to her body, her perfect, tan skin . . .

"Jenna," he asked suddenly, "you didn't report Face's crazy idea about

Isard being alive to General Cracken, did you?"

"No," she said puzzled. "It was too weird, and not part of the discussion

to be reported."

"Oh." He went back to admiring her, which she somehow managed to ignore or

not pick up on it. He wondered how she could manage either trick.

Jenna, for her part, thought she was being paranoid when she caught Wes

staring at her. Come on, he can't be . . . admiring me, can he? No. Not

Janson. Her thoughts moved to analysis of Zsinj's recently accomplished

battles, and tried to predict where he would attack next.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Janson. She wondered how this

dark-haired, prankster man could have been the object of all this

emotional upheaval. True, he was not unattractive; his eyes were a stormy

blue-grey that seemed to smile all the time, he was slender, and he always

had a joke ready, whether you were sad or annoyed. Still . . .

"Jenna," he breathed. Startled out of her thoughts, she stared at him, "I"

At that moment, their orders arrived with the waiter. A plate of bruised

brualki was placed before Jenna, while Wes got his smoked nerf.

When the waiter left, Jenna turned back to Wes. "You were saying?" she

reminded him.

"I" He looked away. "Maybe I shouldn't say this."

"What?" She frowned, then, with intuition born of the Force, she turned

surprised eyes on him. "You love me, was that what you were going to say?"

Miserably, he nodded.

"Wes," she said, her face softening, "I love you, too." She pushed aside

their plates. She leaned slightly forward. Wes leaned forward as well,

lightly touching her lips with his. He felt her push harder, felt the

passion with which she cared for him. He felt as happy as he had ever

been, as satisfied with life and relieved. It was as sweet a kiss as ever,

and both felt as if something special was in the air.

"Freeze!"

Jenna immediately broke away, and was about to go for her blaster when she

saw Wedge and the Wraiths in silly uniforms. At least, they looked like

uniforms. Coolly, she said, "What is this all about?"

"We're the party police," Wedge said sternly, "and we decided you're

breaking Party Law Number One."

"Which is?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To have fun and not to be serious, of course," Wedge told her in

simulated surprise.

"We've been assigned to teach you how to have fun," added Tyria Sarkin.

A brief smile flashed across her face. "You set me up," she said to Wes.

He made a helpless gesture. "I had nothing to do with this," he said,

putting on his best hurt/innocent expression.

She turned back to the Wraiths. "Who exactly gave you this assignment?"

she asked.

The Wraiths looked at one another. "Why, the Commander, of course!" said

Kell.

"I see." She turned her back on the Wraiths. "As a matter of fact, I was

having fun until you party poopers in here and ruined my evening. Now, you

can report back to your commander and tell him the mission was a failure."

Wedge sighed. "All right, all right, Jenna, it's us, the Wraiths, okay?"

"I don't know any 'Wraiths,'" she said, with the best 'innocent'

expression Wes had ever seen on anybody's face. "As a matter of fact,

you're trying to disturb my dinner, and that's harassment. I'm calling the

military police. Then we'll see what you have to say about ruining

people's peace and quiet, vagrant."

Wedge gestured at Jenna at Jenna as she stood up and disappeared into the

rest of the restaurant. "Come on, Wes, help us out here."

Wes fought to keep the amusement out of his face. "Sorry, don't know you,"

he said.

"Wes!" Wedge said, bewildered, as two officers of the New Republic

Military Police who had been dining in the restaurant and had overheard

Jenna's conversation with the manager approached. They quickly pulled

their blasters out and aimed them at the Wraiths.

"All right, nice and easy," one of them growled. "We've called in to

Central and there's a hovercar waiting for you outside. Come on, move it."

"Wait, officer, this is a mistake . . ." Wedge's voice faded as the

Wraiths were led away.

Jenna reappeared at that moment. "Are they gone?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, bemused.

"Good." She looked at him. "I know you arranged all that, don't try to

deny it. Still, I didn't want anything to ruin our entire evening. That

was the only way I could think of getting rid of them."

Wes stared at her. "Remind me never to make you angry."

She took his hand and kissed it. "You never will, love, at least not more

than once."

They ate their dinner with gusto, finishing off with rich desserts. As Wes

flew her back, he said ruefully, "Wedge is going to be angry tomorrow.

You've marked me as a dead man."

She shook her head. "Wedge is an honorable and fair man."

He grimaced. "Then you didn't hear about some of the tricks he pulled on

me."

She smiled as he put down the landspeeder in the hangar. "Don't worry;

I'll appease him." She suddenly grabbed his face and pulled it down. She

kissed him passionately. He melted into her arms, marveling at the fact

that he felt so happy with this woman of mysterious past.

They finally broke apart, gasping slightly for breath. Wes's face reddened

when he saw the cheering techs, but Jenna merely smiled nonchalantly,

uttered a husky "goodbye," and was gone before he knew it.

"Goodbye, Jenna," he whispered, haunted by the memory of her kisses and

her beauty.

Wedge sighed tiredly as he entered his quarters after a night of

convincing the police that what happened was a joke, and to have Admiral

Ackbar vouch for them after giving them parole for two months.

He noticed the package on his bed. He took it, opened it, and was

surprised to find a couple of Corellian-designed "candles," sculptures

that were very valuable and ethereally beautiful.

A datapad tumbled out. "To Commander Antilles," he read aloud, "apologies

for the inconvenience. The lieutenant shouldn't have pulled this trick on

you. For that, as well, I apologize. Sorry I couldn't be there in person

for you to wring my neck. Wes says you are a vengeful person. You don't

strike me as such, but when it comes to Wes, I understand why." Wedge

smiled before continuing.

"Compensation has been sent to all pilots involved in last night's fiasco.

Hope they like their gifts! At any rate, you must know by now that I'm

involved with Wes. Whatever you do, please leave enough of him for me to

help him get back to normal (in other words, please keep him alive). I

love him very much, and I've lost all my friends and family to the Empire.

I don't want to lose anyone I care about anymore.

"So now I'll stop rambling and you can get some sleep. See you around!

Jenna"