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| - It happens to be the day of the Winter Fete. Many personnel are on leave. Quite a few are off duty and getting solidly schnockered in the lounge. However, there are a few who are still going about the business of running operations aboard a large ship of war. Two of those include Kesander Beysarus and Sascha Vildosti. As the two veteran pilots stroll into the Fighterbay, the blond-haired Corellian notices a certain Flight Cadet. His countenance becoming quite serious, the pilot of Ghost 7 raises his voice to get the attention of the newest member of the Ghost Squadron. "L'gyr! Get over here! On the double!!" Raxis practically trips over himself as he hops over a MSE droid on his way through the fighter bay. Strangely enough he's already wearing his flight suit and helmet at the ready. Not only being on the current rotation as he burdens the severe lack of leave of the new cadet, but as he rushes to his officer he drops a patch on the ground. Grunting, he skids a little as he drops to pick it up, and rushes like a green cadet over to his commanding officer now bearing the rank of 2nd Flight Officer. Raxis cranks to a stop before Kesander and flashes a crisp salute. "Sir!" "You're a bit green around the gills, kid." Spots says with a grin. He was still on duty, but between patrol flights. It felt so much better to be back in a real squadron again. He glares over to Kesander, "Still looks and smells like a fresh recruit, doesn't he." Spots chuckles and lets the newly promoted's own Squadron mate do the majority of the work here. Sascha just wants the to be part of the action. "Yeah, I'd say so. The droid won't thank you for kicking him, L'ygr," replies Kesander to Sascha with an appraising nod. "You know, the one thing I CAN'T STAND, is when we let some snot-nosed flight cadet into the squadron. And then they go and pass their flight test.....and then they get the unmitigated GALL to get themselves promoted to 2FO. And even with the Ghost Squadron Patch on 'em, THEY'RE STILL OUT OF UNIFORM!!!" Bellows the X-Wing Driver, a sort of feral grin on his face. Raxis cant help but gulp to himself as a little bead of sweat appears on his brow. Still saluting, his eyes scan over himself. "Sir! I just returned from my test sir. It was regulation to be in my flight suit sir!" Spots, who has the patches for all but the B-Wing certification, smiles and nods. "Yeah, I'd say he's still out of uniform, but I think I can fix that." Sascha chuckles a bit and reaches in chest pocket pulling out a small rectangular box. "These was my first real set for my dress uniform, but I think they'll do." With that said, the Sarian pilot hands the box over to Kesander. "These may be mine, but he's your wingmate," he says. "I'll let you do the honors." "Thanks, Spots," replies Kesander to Sascha before turning on the Second Flight Officer, feral grin still in tact. "L'ygr, you need to LISTEN! ATTENTION TO DETAIL IS EVERYTHING," States the 1st Lieutenant emphatically. "A StarOps Officer who's passed his flight examination needs to have some damn pilot's wings ON HIS UNIFORM. And since we can't have you traipsing about looking like a damn disgrace, WE'LL JUST HAVE TO FIX THAT." And with no further ado, the Corellian steps forward, and placing his left hand on Raxis' shoulder, uses his right to firmly plant the StarOps Pilot's Wings firmly on the younger man's chest. Stepping back, Sandman looks the pilot of Ghost 3 over for a few seconds. "Better." Announces the Corellian. "Congratulations, L'ygr. Let me officially welcome you to Ghost Squadron. Ghost 3 is a good ship. Take care of her and she'll take care of you." Turning to Sascha, the man then says, "Spots, would you also like to congratulate our new fledgling?" With an ear to ear grin and a look of malace in his eyes, the Sarian pilot steps forward. Placing his right hand on the young pilot's left shoulder. With an almost slow and deliberate motion, Spots rares back his left hand. "Congratulations, Pilot," he says as he makes a fist. "You're one of us now." With that said he lets the fist fly as hard as he possibly can, trying to force the two sharp pins implant deeply into the new pilot's flesh. "Lose these wings and I'll pin a new set on with the nose of my Y-Wing." He chuckles a bit and pulls his fist away. Raxis coughs as the blood drains from his face and a grunt escapes his lips. Refusing to howl out in pain at the piece of metal now stabbing into his torso, he shudders for a moment and then nods slowly to the two officers and manages a smile that refuses to be broken. Between gritted teeth, he mutters, "Thank....you.....sirs" he adds with a wince, trying his hardest not to show exactly how much it hurt like hell. "Karking hell, L'ygr, you're good. I actually cried when they did that to me," admits Kesander with a peculiar, almost nostalgic note in his voice. "Of course I had a couple old-timers congratulate me twice, just for fun," explains the X-Wing driver with a shake of his head and a wry smile. "Including my old flight instructor, the guy who gave me my callsign. He congratulated me three times." Completely out of character for the Sarian, he raises a very crisp salute. "I'm glad to have you aboard," Spots says as he drops his hand back down. He glances to his fellow veteran pilot and smirks, "You still got off lucky. My first CO made every guy in the damn hangar make sure those same wings stuck to me for a week. He even had the techies congratulate me. Said something about my flying habits were going to cause them a great deal of work and they needed to go ahead and take the agression out now." He chuckles a bit and looks back to Raxis. "Once again, Congrats." Raxis shudders a nod as he grits his teeth again and lets out a deep breath between his shaking jaws. His eyes bulge slightly as he bends over and lets out another long, mournful breath that could have been a curse somewhere in his mind. Leaning back up, he lets some of the blood return to his face as the insant shock of a puncture wound turns slowly into just a deep nagging pain. His eyes well up slightly. "y-yeah...thank you sirs...g'glad to be aboard I" He stops, adjusting his feet. "Kark that hurts...." he adds, unable to hold it back any longer. "Pain will fade, Raxis," replies Kesander, now looking kindly at the 2FO, actually in a sort of brotherly way. "But I hope the memory doesn't. Not everyone gets to wear those. You earn 'em. And the few drops of blood you shed today mingle with all the blood shed by pilots who have served the New Republic, the Allaince, and the Old Republic going back years beyond memory. All those who have earned those wings are now your brothers and sisters. So you look after 'em like family. Even if some are a great big pain in the backside. They'll look after you," explains the pilot of Ghost 7, his voice easy, but the meaning in his words deadly serious. "Now you should probably drop by the med bay to get that looked at. But after that, your brothers would appreciate the honor of buying enough drinks to dull the pain." Spots gives a nod with a smile, "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" He starts to chuckle a bit more. "Take care of those wings, they've been stuck to several people over the years. One day, like me, you'll pass them along to some unsuspecting flight officer upon completion of his qualification test." Spots looks over to Sandman, "Well, he's yours. Whatcha gonna do with him? Think we should seal him in a vacsuit and launch him out the airlock and see if he can find his way back in?" He smiles evilly. He then turns back to Raxis, "No worries, we wouldn't really do that, but you have to keep the pin in on your way to the medbay. That way every other pilot on the way can help congratulate you." Raxis lifts his head slightly to watch the two as he now lets out a slow calming breath, his body getting slowly used to the pain...as much as it can at least. Again, he nods at the mention of the medbay as his eyes glaze over in a look of longing. "S-sirs? Can I wear them...normally...after I get done with medbay?" He asks, with a glimmer of hope at the end of his question. "Absolutely," replies Kesander assuringly. "The backings for the points are in the box," the Corellian says as he tosses the small case for the pilot's wings to Raxis. With a slight chuckle, Sascha nods. "Just take care of those, little brother." Spots smiles a good bit. "And meet us in the lounge in thirty minutes or we're gonna start without you." He smiles, gives one last pat on the shoulder to the new pilot and turns away. "And by god, don't lose those wings," he says as he begins to walk off towards the turbolifts. Raxis flinches in pain and is dominant arm, his right one, to catch the box. The arm attached to the portion of the torso that currently has a pair of wings lanced through it stretches. He manages to catch the box, not without intense amounts of pain added to the numbingly vile pain he's already experiencing. "Son of a..." He grits out of clamped teeth, and turns to begin his long walk to the turbolift." Kesander follows the newly-minted pilot and the Sarian veteran towards the turbolift. The Corellian does actually display a bit empathy for Raxis. But more evident perhaps is pride in a worthy new addition to the ranks of Ghost Squadron.
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