Note that you would be more familiar with Aube from my storys "And Vega Lights my Way", "Just Names" and "The 7th Hymn of Tiresias"... (posted on TF.n)
Luke sighed heavily as he shouldered his first burden of command.
Everyone gets this one at least once, Luke, Wedge had assured him. It gets easier after this, I promise…
Another heavy sigh as he pushed the door
open, where his ears were immediately assaulted with the groans of
the heavily wounded and the stench of vomit mixed with beer.
Lots of beer.
"Hey Kid!" Han's voice called merrily from across the room. "You made it!" He ducked as a bar stool narrowly missed his head. "Nothing like a celibreetion – cela – party…"
Luke cleared his throat, hoping that the uniform and the fact that the lights had risen would be an adequate signal that the party was over.
"Come fer an innnit 'ave you Commander?" a soft feminine voice cut in over the din.
Leia? Luke thought looking into the soft brown eyes of the owner of that voice. What…
Before his mind could register the fact that indeed it was not the princess, a well formed fist met his jaw. In the instant it took for Luke's rear to hit the floor, a sudden silence fell upon the room, only punctuated by the odd Corellian curse and the word "Nails!".
As he was helped to his feet by two other pilots, he once again found himself captivated by those same brown eyes, which were now wide with horror.
"Commander!" She barked out suddenly, standing at attention with her hand at salute. Standing at attention was a generous assessment, the woman wobbled unsteadily. "Private First Class, Aubé Canaille, Sir!"
"At ease, Private," Luke replied softly, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. A red weal had begun to form underneath one brown eye; soft short curls wetly framed her face. Her lower lip was full – swollen with a small trickle of blood, and her flight suit was torn and dirty, but for all of that, she would have been beautiful.
Unaware that the rest of the party had indeed broken up, and the celebrants were slowly slipping out of the room, Luke continued to stare at her.
"Apolololol – apolo – " she hiccupped. "I'm sorry, Commander." She looked positively green.
A ghost of a smile touched the corner of Luke's lip as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Private…"
Properly chastened, Private Aubé 'Nails' Canaille, Rebel Pilot and future Jedi student of Luke Skywalker, bowed and promptly threw up on his shoes.