Author's Note; Takes place about middle of NJO series... This starts a bit into Rebel Dream, by Aaron Alston, to give you a timeframe.
Prologue
D-day had arrived.
Even through the dense canopy of foliage looming above, streaks of ion, laser, and plasma energy lit the dusk sky like an Ewok festival. Silhouettes of large spacecraft breached the atmosphere with their smaller counterparts following in close formation. The whine of corralskippers screamed high among the trees as they hastened towards the new arrivals.
The small figure on the forest floor, breathing heavily, took a moment to absorb the spectacle before resuming her death-pace run. Muffled, inarticulate guttural voices stemmed a distance behind her followed by the insistent sound of razor-edged amphistaffs slicing at overgrown vegetation. Using a hand to vault herself over a decaying tree trunk, her scavenged Imperial armor smudged against the grime. Had she better options, she would not be wearing the white legging armor that stood out like a bantha on a beach in the thickly green and multi-colored forested area of Borleais. But being behind enemy lines severely limited her resources, thus she made sure to crawl on, scrape through, or lean against any mud or natural grime she came across.
She was filthy; even a Wookiee couldn't keep a straight face after he got a whiff of her.
Bouncing on her hip as she ran was a modified holdout blaster pistol. A vibrostaff attached at the intersection of her crossed bandoleer tapped incessantly between her shoulder blades. She wore a hardened vest that would protect against vibro (or in this case, amphistaff) slashes and the little craters pockmarked along it suggested thud bug protection, too. Her arms were bare but showed abuse from bruises, burns, and battle scars.
Feeling that she had lost her tail, she approached a high rocky embankment to survey the unfolding battle in the distance. A large transport made a landing near a Yuuzhan Vong stronghold where there once had been an Imperial scientific installation. Starfighters whirled about in triangle formations, supporting the ground troops and harassing the skips. A glance to the east strongly suggested that these invaders would soon find their hands full as half-a-dozen rakamats were making their appearance.
She shook her head, a pained expression on her face. If this were a hit-and-run situation, they wouldn't have sent in infantry: the New Republic certainly didn't have the lives to spare. If the plan were to retake the alien base, then they better possess more reinforcements than they were currently showcasing.
A wounded coralskipper whipping by overhead caused her cower briefly; it was followed by the howling roar of the ion drives of an X-wing in pursuit of its quarry. The pilot of that craft, however, made the mistake of abandoning his wing mates for an easy prey, for an undamaged skip flew in from the rear and tore away the starfighter's shields. The pilot made a valiant effort to dodge, but the flurry of plasma was bound to hit something. The X-wing spun wildly out of control. Moments before striking the canopy, it righted itself, and struck ground hard.
No explosion, surprisingly.
She tilted her head, calculating some complex formula in her mind as she took account of the events unfolding in her environment.
With resolve, she headed into the battlefield, in the direction of the fallen starfighter several kilometers away.