Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Description: When Rogue Squadron gets into trouble, an old 'friend' rescues them. One-shot.
Wedge saw Lara creeping up behind the guards, and got very angry. "So now you're hiring traitors, is that it?"
The officer frowned, confused, and Wedge pointed behind him. Lara, outraged at Wedge's lack of discretion, yelled, "You arsehole! You're not supposed to tell them that I'm here, you dipshit!"
All of the Imperials turned as one and stared at the angry former spy. "So wait," Wes asked, "You're not on their side?"
"Hell no! As if I'd ever work for intel again! And didn't you notice the fact that I was 'creeping' up to them? Men! Thick heads and no sense!"
The Imperials (all of them being male) took offense at this and opened fire. Lara drew her lightsaber and made short work of them. She then stomped her way over to Wedge and said, "You know, somebody could go over to the dark side simply by giving you the slap upside the head that you so justly deserve!"
Wedge blinked. This wasn't the Lara Notsil he remembered. The lightsaber, the Force powers... her attitude. "Well... you've changed."
"Yeah, now I can cut people who irritate me in half."
"Gara Petothel," Tycho stated. He soon regretted it when Lara ignited her lightsaber and pointed it at his nether regions.
"Gara Petothel is dead, and if you ever call me that again, I will personally castrate you." Tycho's eyes widened in fear, and his calm composure cracked slightly.
"Sorry."
Lara snorted and turned away to face the end of the corridor. "Move it. I did not just risk my life and that of countless others for bloody nothing."
Please review! And if anybody wants me to turn this into a long story, please tell me!