“Exactly.” Fairy had a tiny smirk linger on his lips. Red wasn’t going to point it out. Sounded like Fairy had become friends with this Buzzkill as well. He did bump his shoulder against Fairy’s before they broke off to unload their rigs from the transports. 

“Start getting your rigs calibrated,” Vulture called out to the four squads. “We need to be suited up in two standard hours. Test flights will be limited. So get the simulations done.” Everyone went to work. Ueeda was not a kind planet according to the probes. Wind gusts as strong as a Kaminoan typhoon on a clear day and unexpected updrafts from geysers or volcanos. 

Still that was where the mission sent them. The high floating factories of the Trade Federation’s battle droids. There were limited places for any ground troops to land. Fighters, bombers, and the Winged Battalion. 

Heights joined the Winged Battalion, grinning and greeting his squads. Vulture had pulled Height’s rig out of the transport but had not done any maintenance. Instead, Vulture was checking with each Delta Clone Trooper. Red watched as Heights went to Vulture’s rig first to do the second safety check before beginning his own. It was a common sight. It wasn’t that anyone doubted their own abilities. Only that a second check prevented errors. At the moment, only the Deltas were authorized to preform the second checks. Red’s generation were being taught so they would be ready for the next generation of Winged Troopers. 

Low chatter began to filter through the squads as the orange painted Ordnance Troopers got into their sights. Heights waved jovially. “You did make it! Wonderful. I’m sure Vulture or Fairy could walk you through.” Fairy looked up in surprise at being volunteered. He had been completing Flak’s second check.

Vulture rolled his eyes. “Or you can walk them through your rig. Would be just like you walking a Shiny through. Bet they will actually understand.” Vulture continued with Twinkle’s rig in the Forward Flock squad. 

One of the Ordnance Troopers peered closely at Height’s winged jetpack. “Is it too close to launch for you to open the shell?”

With a free laugh, Heights stood. “Not at all. Vulture and Fairy are just going to have to triple check my calibrations.” Heights removed the shell of his wings and plugged his datapad into the port. “Need to run simulations on this most of all.” Heights went into lecture mode and the Ordnance Trooper appeared enthralled. 

“Shut your jaw, Red,” Flipoff elbowed him sharply. “We don’t get to see Heights have fun like this everyday.”

“Really?” An Ordnance Specialist had come to stand beside them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buzzkill this excited. Ever.”

A third orange painted trooper joined. “Honestly, we didn’t think you guys existed. Buzzkill doesn’t have friends.”

“If that’s excited, I’m missing something,” Red chuckled. “These rigs are nothing compared to the bombs Vulture’s made.” In the distance Vulture dropped his head back to his shoulders.

Buzzkill turned away from the exposed wing mechanisms to look at Vulture. “You make bombs? Why weren’t we informed.”

“Because, Buzzkill,” Heights answered calmly through with strong defense of his batchmates. “These are not the payloads you just loaded onto the Y-wings. Not even missiles you give the ground troops. We couldn’t carry even one of those. Everything we have has been recast to be lighter. Our rigs can only lift so much weight. Vulture and a few others have sat through the same training you have. We are still experiments trying to prove useful.” Every Delta Clone Trooper went silent. If they weren’t useful, they would be chilled down like the Alpha Class. 

The moment lingered painfully for all of them. “It’s dangerous to have nothing to lose,” Buzzkill finally said. “So these wings… they don’t have to carry as much as the Mando jetpacks? How?”

Heights grinned again, eager to get the sore spot behind them. “Pick me up and find out.” Heights stood and held out his arms. Buzzkill didn’t move, bewildered by the request. “You won’t believe me until you do.”

Clones were strong and durable. That’s how the Kaminoans made them. Buzzkill rolled his shoulders and stepped into Heights’s space, clearly uncertain as to how to accomplish the task. Many Delta Clones were smirking at the sight. After a moment, Buzzkill must have pieced together the whole conversation and tucked his hands under Height’s arms and lifted. Lifted Heights higher than a standard Clone should have gone. “Impossible.” Buzzkill set Heights down.

“Not impossible. We’re maybe a third of your mass. Jetpacks are bombs because of how much fuel they have to use. These… well, different fuel, weighs less and we can fly longer.”

“You’re still insane.”

The Winged Squads laughed and grinned. Heights patted Buzzkill’s shoulder. “Designed that way. Who else is going to fly these experiments.”