fandomhighdorms | First Floor Garage, Monday Evening

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First Floor Garage, Monday Evening

Sam was on the floor of the garage next to her swoop bike, surrounded by parts--half clean, half filthy--a rag, and assorted tools. She was currently busy filing down a part she'd designed and cast for the propulsion system, trying to smooth all the rough edges before she replaced it.

So far, it was a little better than it had been, but the process was slow-going because she had to keep stopping to pull the metal filings out of her fingertips. At least it was mind-numbing enough work that she could let her mind drift, and not think of anything; particularly not seventeen-year-old girls leading armies into battle, because that should never have happened.

[ooc: Open to all.]

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"So, um, what's your Han Solo like?" Sam asked. Admittedly, she hadn't known the other one more than in passing, but alternate realities always intrigued her.

"Hell of a pilot and mechanic," Luke said because the boy had his priorities straight. "Loyal. Practically fearless."

"See, now that sounds like someone it would have been fun to know," Sam grumbled, thinking he sounded more than a little bit like O'Neill, "not to mention that we can always use more flyboys around here."

"Truer words have not been spoken," Luke agreed with a smile, "and Han's almost as good as I am."

Sam laughed. "Oh, you're so much your father's son."

Luke grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," she grinned, "since that's how it's meant. Best pilot I've ever seen, still."

"I've flown against him," Luke said, nodding.

Once. When his father was trying to shoot him down. Luke failed to see how that would be relevant.

"He's pretty incredible." He gave Sam a sheepish smile. "And better than I am."

"He's older," Sam said, understanding the smile, "give it time."

"Now we have time to do rematches," Luke said, looking a little gobsmacked.

"You do, and I still have his plans, if you want to build yourself a swoop bike," she said, gesturing over at the workbench, where they were held down by a couple of rusted gears and a socket wrench.

"Oooh," Luke said, wandering over to look at the schematics. "I was on a speeder bike a few weeks ago on Endor--it's the more modern version," he said. "Not as much space wasted on handlebars."

"Can you sketch it?" Sam asked eagerly.

Luke caught his lower lip between his teeth, then nodded. "I can try," he said.

"There's paper and pencils over there," Sam gestured, "somewhere. Otherwise, feel free to study them as a historical document, or whatever." She went back to filing the seam, and finally seemed to be getting somewhere.

Luke rummaged around until he found both, then studied the schematics intently for a while before closing his eyes to remember the speeder on Endor.

The craft he sketched lacked the elegance of Anakin's, but it was a sturdy, fast little design.

Sam couldn't help herself and had to peek over Luke's shoulder. She gave a low whistle. "Sweet."

Luke grinned, pleased. "It might be faster," he said.

Sam was trying not to drool on the sketch. "And how'd it handle?"

"Watch out for trees," Luke said wryly. "I mean, it's very responsive."

Sam cracked up. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Luke grinned back. "Nah. The speeder was a fire-y mess, though. In my defense, the trees were really, really big."

"And therefore really hard to miss?"

Luke stuck his tongue out at her. "And close together. And Leia and I were...kind of on a high-speed chase through them."

"So what you're saying is that I should be impressed that you're not currently tree sap?" Sam asked.

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