Scaling the ladder to his cockpit shouldn't feel like climbing a mountain. Wedge has done it dozens of times before, in sunshine and rain, with varying degrees of confidence in his missions, without fail.

Yet now it feels hard, though he knows why. Memories of the battle over Yavin 4 drag at him. The deaths of so many of his friends, the way he barely survived and only then by abandoning Luke when he needed him most, regardless of his orders.

Wedge freezes halfway up the ladder, knuckles white as he grips the cool metal. I can do this, he tells himself firmly. Get back in the saddle. I need to do this.

“Wedge?”

He curses inwardly and glances down, and there's Luke standing below him, looking up with too much understanding.

“Good luck out there,” Luke says, flashing him that inimitable sunny smile. “You're gonna do great.” Then he's gone to his own ship.

Wedge takes a breath and unfreezes, climbing the rest of the way to his cockpit.