Chapter: 6

Queen Janitte's daughter was not any of the things Leroy Corsurge had expected her to be.

As a Commander, it was his job to categorize his pilots into rankings of skill and discipline, and forming biases tended to help make that process simpler, even if it was frustrating to people like Seth Joust.

First of all, Leroy assumed that the Princess would be rebellious and stubborn.

From the Queen's brief description of her daughter's views, Leroy had immediately suspected that Princess Loreli d'Accorde was the female equivalent of the young man he had once been – running away from home to join the Naval Academy just because his parents didn't believe in fighting.

But just because their views weren't entirely the same, didn't mean that mother and daughter had had some sort of radical falling–out. Quite to the contrary, Loreli had a very good relationship with Queen Janitte, and that was surprising to say the least.

The second thing Leroy had expected was that the girl would be a snob, the typical pampered daughter of royalty. However, Loreli was not that either. She was polite and respectful, and wasn't the type of girl who was afraid to get her hands dirty. In that regard, she was almost like Princess Leia herself.

Thirdly, Leroy had expected her to be a novice in the ways of snubfighter tactics. In taking her into the squadron, he had assumed that he and Dano would have their hands full for several weeks, putting Loreli through extensive, fast–forwarded training.

But although she didn't quite rank up to the likes of Seth Joust, Loreli certainly wasn't a novice pilot. Aside from what informal training she already possessed, the Princess had a good sense of judgment and a keen awareness of what was going on around her. While she wasn't a superb shot and some of her flying skills were questionable, she wasn't at all a rookie.

In short, she had exceeded all of Leroy's expectations.

Dano was impressed too. By the end of their first sim run with Loreli, the XO's opinion – which ahd been remarkably similar to Leroy's in most respects – had altered dramatically, and he cordially welcomed Loreli to the squadron.

Within the three days following the Provisional Council meeting in Theed, Green Squadron accepted into its fold the last two pilots necessary for a full wing – a fact that served to lighten Leroy's apprehension over the approaching battle.

Sella Ruvek'astak was a Twi'lek who had killed her slaver master and fled to the Rebel Alliance during the days when they were still fighting the Empire. She was skilled with Y-Wings and X-Wings, but caught on easily enough to the design of the A-Wing, which was similar in most respects. She had also flown in one minor engagement with the Vong.

Kitsy Reaffe was a young girl from Dantooine. She had been born during the last days of the Empire, and replaced Vick as the youngest pilot in Green Squadron. At only 19, she was three years younger than Seth, only one younger than Vick.

At first, Dano had protested her admittance to the squadron, arguing that she was too young to be involved in the mess that was the war with the Yuzzhan Vong. Leroy had felt the same and almost dismissed the girl without a trial, but she had convinced them to let her run once in the sim.

In the Ambush scenario, she had cleaned up the opposition, tallying five kills while Dano and Seth only got one each, leaving Cane with zero. The girl was a natural, a fact that Leroy couldn't deny. And, considering that she was an adult – though barely – he couldn't bring himself to hold her back.

Kitsy became Green 12.

The occupation of Naboo commenced as planned. The Alliance's 5000 ground troopers were set down four days after the Council meeting, along with Luke Skywalker and his contingent of eight Jedi masters – not including his pregnant wife.

The people of Theed had taken up the task of providing for these soldiers less than reluctantly, and this was a good omen. Occupation had been one of the chief worries of the Provisional Council, and now that the matter was settled, they were that much closer to finishing the race.

Everything now depended upon the Vong. Whenever they chose to attack, that would be the day of their destruction. Morale ran high among the New Republic forces, especially within the pilots of Green Squadron. Their days were spent in the simulators, their nights in the lounges, and despite the seeming monotony of this schedule, no one complained in the slightest, and activity outside the mundane remained minimal.

That was why Leroy was utterly surprised when he was summoned by General Hoffman to the bridge on Kiss of Life without forewarning or any explanation. Hoffman had said nothing as to why Leroy was being summoned, only that whatever it was that he wished to discuss pertained to the squadron.

The way he'd said it had left Leroy with a feeling of unease, and as he waited in the turbolift, the Commander wracked his brain for anything that could have gone wrong. It was possible that some of the pilots had gotten into trouble outside of his notice, but it wouldn't quite make sense at the current time.

Still, the last thing I need now is a court–martial.

Leroy straightened his uniform as the turbolift doors whooshed open, revealing the spacious bridge bustling with activity. Dodging a technician carrying a stack of tools, the Commander stepped out of the lift and strode briskly towards the center of the room.

Hoffman stood by the holoprojector at the nucleus of the bridge, observing a rotating map of Naboo, his one arm folded behind his back.

Leroy stopped behind of the General and snapped into a salute. "You requested to see me, Sir?"

Hoffman turned to face Leroy and returned the salute lightly. "At ease, Commander," he said with a small smile. "Yes, I wanted to speak to you about a matter that concerns me."

Leroy clasped his hands at the small of his back, hoping that his agitation didn't show. Here we go.

He arranged his face to an impassive mask, unconcerned and indifferent. "What is it, Sir?"

Hoffman removed a datapad from a pocket and plugged it into the holoprojector. A moment later, holographic representations of twisted container transports replaced the map of Naboo. These had been damaged in battle, Leroy assumed, owing to the burn scars across their hulls and the gaping wounds in their sides.

Vong plasma, he thought. The most destructive weapon since our warheads.

Hoffman turned back to Leroy. "These containers carried bacta up until approximately two standard hours ago when their loads were transferred to the Lusankya's holding bay. The containers were to be destroyed due to obvious damages, but I convinced Admiral Creel to let me keep them."

Leroy saw where he was going. He grinned, partly relieved and partly pleased at the opportunity Creel was giving him.

"Thank you, Sir," he said, coming to attention. "I'll have my squadron suited up within fifteen minutes."

Hoffman returned the salute with his single hand. "Dismissed, Commander."

Seth Joust's muscles were straining so hard he was sure they would burst. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back and lying heavy on his forehead.

What he had set out to accomplish hadn't seemed like such a difficult feat, a task that he could easily have overcome. Now, in retrospect, he saw the error in his ways. He shouldn't have risen to the bait, or at least shown some better judgment.

"Come on Seth!"

"Come on, man, I have money on you!"

"Don't let him push you over –!"

"Led, do him in and be finished with it!"

Lieutenant Led Sketz was a stocky man, short and powerful. To look at him, one would have immediately thought him a substantial match for Seth Joust, a sturdy Corellian whose muscular build was the envy of nearly all males his age. And perhaps that was why the challenge had been such a temptation to Seth.

It was simply the alpha–male need to cast down an equal, to prove himself superior.

Led grinned at Seth, pushed harder, just to show the younger man that he was still fighting.

They were sitting across from each other at a table in the Kiss of Life's main cafeteria. They were locked in a furious arm wrestle, one that seemed to have no winner: neither had budged since the beginning of the contest roughly four minutes ago.

The other pilots of Green Squadron were clustered around the table, egging on their favored competitor with shouts of encouragement that were attracting the attention of the other sentient beings within the dim cafeteria.

"You got him now, Led! Keep going!"

"Give it to him, Seth! C'mon, this one should be easy for you."

Seth found their encouragement a mild annoyance, only a distraction. Shutting his squadmates' presences out, he gave Led a testing push.

Led returned it with one of his own, managing to inch the younger pilot's arm back a few centimeters. He blew a drop of sweat from the tip of his large nose.

"C'mon, Seth," he taunted breathlessly. "You've got me now."

Bastard.

Seth grinned, gave another push to regain lost ground.

He had grown up with this sort of contest amongst his peers, and he knew that he could beat Led, assuming that the larger pilot had less endurance. This was more than a test of physical strength: it was a test of wills to see who had the willpower enough to keep fighting back.

Led pushed.

Seth pushed back – harder.

And then, he sensed it. Led's palm twitched, and his grip slackened slightly.

It was only a minor change, but Seth knew that he had the older pilot. He quickly pushed, this time harder than the previous attempts, and found that his assessment was correct.

He's done. I've got him now.

Led gave first an inch.

Then two inches. Then three.

The cheering of their companions grew in volume, encouraging, critical. Seth continued to ignore them as Led struggled against the younger pilot's sudden attack.

The Lieutenant's entire arm was trembling now. Sweat ran in rivulets down the veins that stood out vividly in his wrist and inside the crook of his fleshy elbow. Led closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nostrils, sweat quivering in droplets on his face as he fought with all his might –

Seth glanced up at the older pilot's face and saw the older man's jaw clench. The Corellian forced the stocky man's arm further down as the shouts of his favorers grew in volume. Grunting, he gave one last push, knowing it was over –

– and thought he had hit a brick wall.

Seth felt his jaw drop in amazement as Led's arm stopped trembling and set itself, stopping Seth's advance cold. He glanced up at the older pilot, saw Led's eyes flash open and his grin return. Then, with an almighty push, he catapulted the younger pilot's arm backwards.

The back of his hand had already slapped the table before Seth even realized what had happened.

Led grinned, elated, and slumped back against the seat. His supporters cheered in triumph, and credit notes were handed over to the bet–winners.

Seth slumped back in his seat as well. "You were bluffing?" he panted.

Led shrugged, his chest heaving as Cane patted him repeatedly on his beefy shoulder. "I knew you'd fall for it." The Lieutenant grinned and attempted to make a muscle, but found that his arm was too tired, so he let the limb flow back into his lap – like so much rubber.

The rest of the Greens laughed, then began calling Led's next challenger.

Farvebacca dropped onto the bench next to Seth and bodily forced the smaller pilot further down into the booth, ignoring the Corellian boy's protests. The Wookiee growled something deep in his throat and extended his furry paw towards Led. As the meaning was clear, no one needed Vick to interpret, and everyone dissolved into laughter again.

Chuckling, Led held up his hands weakly. "No thanks, Farve. I think you'd tear my arm off."

The Wookiee chuffed in laughter, and growled something.

Vick leaned over the back of Led's seat. "He just called you a chicken, Lieutenant." His tone suggested that he wished to stir up some trouble. "You're not going to let him get away with that, are you?"

Led crossed his arms over his chest. "Ohh, a threat now, eh?" He laughed. "We'll just have to match wits in the simulator then, Farve, since an arm wrestle between us just wouldn't be a fair match."

"You'll get that opportunity soon enough, Lieutenant."

All ten pilots leapt to attention at the sound of Leroy Corsurge's voice. Farvebacca banged his furry knees hard on the underside of the table as he stood up abruptly, but stood at attention without complaint.

Seth gritted his teeth to keep from laughing, and could tell – out of his peripheral vision – that Vick and Teneniel Tyra were struggling to maintain their composure as well.

Commander Corsurge arched an eyebrow, eyeing Seth's and Led's sweaty appearances. The Commander and Dano Ven stood next to each other, both dressed in their green pilot suits. How much of the contest the superiors had seen, no one could be certain.

"Having fun, Mr. Joust?" Corsurge asked finally. "Lieutenant?"

Seth shook his head at the same time Led nodded. "Yes, Sir," "No, Sir," they said in unison.

This was followed by an unbearably awkward pause as Leroy searched each man's expression. Then the Commander laughed, and the sudden tension that had befallen the pilots evaporated almost instantly.

"Well you'd better make up your minds if you're going to continue in the future," Corsurge said lightly. "Now, I want everyone in uniform, down in the hangar, and ready for takeoff within the next twenty minutes. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the ten pilots said in unison.

"Good. Dismissed." Corsurge turned and left the cafeteria.

Dano stayed behind a moment later, grinning as he looked back and forth between Seth and Led. "Who won, Lieutenant?" he asked the shorter man.

Led glanced at Seth to see his reaction, but the younger pilot didn't meet his eyes. Seth could feel his face burning with humiliation, and he looked at the floor as Led replied, "Me, Sir."

Dano chuckled and shook his head. "Well done, Lieutenant. Well done."

Rusty Yuvahak stepped forward. "Sir?"

Seth looked up in time to see the Captain raise his eyebrows at the Bothan, inviting the forthcoming question.

"Is this a drill, Sir?" Rusty asked.

"Considering the mild temperament of Commander Corsurge, I'll leave that up to your discernment, Mr. Yuvahak." Dano winked at the Bothan, then turned on his heel and exited the cafeteria in Commander Corsurge's wake.

They watched him leave, and then Teneniel voiced an opinion. "Has anyone else noticed that Captain Ven has a strange sense of humor?"

There were affirmative murmurs from the group – from everyone except the three new women, who had remained removed from all the excitement. The Twi'lek called Sella, the Princess d'Accorde, and the teenager from Dantooine – Kitsy.

They were all very attractive, Seth suddenly realized, and he momentarily wondered whether Dano had personally selected them for the squad, or whether they had been randomly screened.

What are the odds?

"No sense standing around," Cane Roulvecksch said finally, breaking the silence.

Instantly, they were all moving towards the cafeteria exit.

Feels good to be back in the cockpit again.

Leroy flipped on the A-Wing's main monitor, then keyed his comm as he waited for the engines to warm. "Hangar Control, this is Green Leader. My squadron is a–go. Requesting hangar doors be opened."

"Understood, Green Leader," the voice came back. "Happy hunting."

"Thank you, control." Leroy switched the comm. back to the Green Squadron frequency, then took the pilot stick in his hand. "Let's go, Green Squad. Keep in mind that these A-Wings cost our superiors significant credits, so try not to scratch them."

Lieutenant Sketz: "Lead? Five."

"Go ahead, Five," Leroy said.

"This is going to be our first in–space flight where we actually discharge our weaponry, correct?"

Actually, it was Sella Ruvek'astack and Kitsy Reaffe's very first in–space flight with Green Squadron – discharging weapons or otherwise.

Leroy smiled. "You're one for one, Lieutenant."

Led cleared his throat, perhaps nervously. "Have we any handicaps, or are we completely live?"

"No restrictions, Lieutenant," Leroy replied, thumbing his targeting computer to life and pulling up the readout of the A-wing's weaponry. "Cannons are fully charged and operational. Unless the techs screwed us over."

"I see." Sketz cleared his throat again. "Sir, I'd request some words of warning for the less experienced pilots concerning the discharging of weaponry."

Dano's voice cut through the instant protests – namely from Vick, Sella, and Kitsy Reaffe. "Of course, Lieutenant," the XO said loudly. "Greens: don't shoot Green Five. Everyone else is fair game."

Farvebacca's howl of unintelligible laughter drowned everyone else's out.

Smiling, Leroy keyed his comm once more. "Will that be all, Lieutenant?"

"Affirmative, Sir," Sketz replied, amusement lightening his tone.

"Right," Leroy said. "Five's concern is duly noted. Greens, I feel the pressing need to caution you all against unnecessary firing. Vape a companion, and it won't just be the cost of a new A-Wing on your hands. Alright – if no one else has anything to say, let's do this thing."

When no one voiced any further concerns, Leroy gently tugged the flightstick and felt the familiar thrill in his stomach region as the A-Wing slowly lifted off the landing pad. Out the cockpit, he could see the other fighters slowly rising and rotating to face the gaping hangar doors.

"Green Leader, away," he said into the comm, and nudged the throttle. The A-Wing leapt forward and Leroy guided the fighter smoothly out of the hangar.

The blackness of space surrounded him abruptly, infinite in all directions. For a moment, he gazed at Naboo and her star system, relishing a sudden sense of freedomat flying again.

Recovering himself, the Commander keyed his comm again. "One-Flight, form up on me. Two- and Three-Flights, form up on your respective leaders. I'm sending you all destination coordinates now."

He heard the other pilots acknowledge his orders, then glanced at his sensor board to watch them comply. He saw Dano, Seth, and Rusty bring their A-Wings into positions aft and starboard of his own snubfighter, and the green dots on the sensor board corresponded with the other actions he wanted to see.

Leroy opened up the throttle and sent the A-Wing tearing across space. After checking to be sure that the rest of the squadron was with him, he keyed the comm once again.

"Mission is simple, Greens. General Hoffman wants the trash taken out, so we're going to comply."

"Leader? Three." Seth sounded distinctly annoyed. "Since when have we been trashmen?"

"Since I said so, Three." Despite the apparent innocence of Seth's question, Leroy still wasn't pleased with the Corellian's overall attitude, so he let steel sharpen the edge his words carried. "When we reach the rendezvous point, cut throttle to zero and await further orders. Understood, flight leaders?"

Lieutenants Sketz and Roulvecksch all radioed back in the affirmative.

Leroy reached out with a gloved hand and adjusted the frequency to the private one he shared with his XO. "Dano, you read?"

"Loud and clear, One."

"Okay. I'm sending you a targeting program via sensor relay. Send it out to the rest of the squad when you get it, and make sure they know that they are to utilize it. Trashed containers and slagged freighters have been tagged with points and dropped in space between oh-three-eight-five and nine-oh-seven-six. Each Flight will take one pass, get as much as they can while maintaining formation."

Basically, it was a test of the Flight Leaders' leadership capabilities and their Wings' abilities to follow orders.

"Simple enough drill," Dano said.

"You got it." Leroy switched back to the squadron frequency in time to hear Seth's next comment.

"That is a lot of shit."

Some of the other pilots laughed, and even Leroy had to agree with Seth's opinion.

Twisted remains of freighters, shattered bulkheads, crushed pieces of snubfighters, and even the wasted hull of a cruiser had been town several kilometers from the fleet by tugs. While he knew that this would be a good exercise, Leroy couldn't help but regret the number of deaths that had occurred when these ships had been destroyed.

He sighed, shaking dark thoughts away, and reached for the throttle. He cut his velocity in half as he waited for Two- and Three-Flights to catch up, then killed it altogether. The thrumming of the engine was replaced with an eerie tranquility instilled by the vacuum of space.

Leroy waited until the rest of Green Squadron was arrayed, then glanced out his cockpit at Dano's snubfighter – to his immediate starboard. He nodded and saw Dano's head nod in return.

"Show them the ropes, Two," he said.

"Affirmative," Dano replied. "Okay, Greens, this is the way the cookie crumbles. Three-Flight will make the first pass through the debris. Clear out as much of it as you can without coming out of formation. If the need presents itself, by all means, do so. However, points will be deducted from your scores.

"Now. You will notice that none of your A-Wings have had their share of concussion missiles reloaded. That was purposeful and not a tech slip–up. It would be a waste of warheads to use them on this crap, so you'll just have to live with it.

"Also, you will all have received the special targeting software by now. Utilize it. It will tell you your current score and will also relay these scores back to Commander Corsurge for future reference."

"Two? Nine." Cane's snarl was distorted into a menacing growl by static. "Will these points be added to our sim scores?"

"Affirmative, Nine," Leroy answered for Dano. "So all of you had better do your best. Your flight is clear to start its run, Lieutenant. Remember the rules, and happy hunting."

"Thank you, Commander," Cane growled. "Three-Flight, throttle up and get to it!"

The Shistavanen's flight, consisting of his wingmate, Sella Ruvek'astack, Kitsy Reaffe and Loreli d'Accorde besides himself, vectored away from the rest of the squad. The thruster wash of their A-Wings flared from blue to orange as they accelerated into the debris field.

"Do you think it was a mistake giving the Shistavanen all the women, Lead?" Dano asked pensively.

"What am I, Captain?" Teneniel Tyra asked indignantly.

"Apologies, Six," Dano replied mildly.

"We'll discuss that later, Number One," Leroy said, chuckling.

The pilots fell silent, watching their companions in Three–Flight zero in on their targets. Just before they had reached the first twisted cruiser, Vick Fleen's voice crackled over the comm. "Save some for the rest of us, Nine."

"Switch comm channel to Three–Flight frequency," Lieutenant Roulvecksch ordered.

Loreli d'Accorde panicked as she surveyed the instrument panel and couldn't remember which switch would change the frequency. For a moment, she stared helplessly at the comm unit, praying that she wouldn't have to radio for help, and then it came back to her.

Relieved, she flipped the switch and heard the audible pop in her headset.

"Worried we'll get distracted, Nine?" Sella asked, her tone retaining humor even through the static.

Roulvecksch snorted a laugh. "Well–spotted, Ten. Stay tight, and let's impress the Commander."

Both Kitsy and Sella voiced their affirmatives, but Loreli kept her mouth shut. She had always been the introspective type, quiet and quaint, and only speaking when necessity demanded it.

Besides, it was awkward being a Princess amongst commoners – not that she viewed herself as such or desired to be treated any differently. In fact, she would have loved more than anything to fit into her squadmates' social strata – if only to feel more accepted.

Granted, no one had given her a hard time about her royal descent – not that she had expected to receive any flak over it – but they definitely treated her differently, whether or not they realized it.

I've just got to get used to it. Maybe if I open up more, they'll grow to consider me a friend and not a Princess.

She gripped the flightstick tightly and glanced at the A-Wing's sensor board to check her position. Kitsy Reaffe, her wingmate, was barely a half klick off Loreli's starboard s-foil, right where she was supposed to be. Which meant that Loreli was where she was supposed to be.

So far so good.

Captain Bynuard had personally taught her to fly in an Xj71 when she was barely twelve years old. Not only had she picked up on things quickly, but her love for flying had also been born the second she'd taken control of the fighter.

That was part of the reason Loreli had insisted that her mother allow her to fight alongside the Galactic Alliance. While Loreli didn't exactly have a love for fighting, her mother had summed up her daughter's feelings accurately by saying that Loreli hated to sit by idly.

The princess hated to be inactive.

Stop it, she thought, shaking her head. She was thinking too much, getting distracted too easily.

They had drawn nearly level with the behemoth of a cruiser, which had been hollowed by Vong plasma fire. The durasteel hulk spun at an almost imperceptible rate – a moving mountain in space, drawn ever so gradually towards Naboo by the planet's considerable gravity.

Surrounding the metal planetoid were countless satellites and moons – cargo containers, freight vessels, broken snubfighters. All blackened and decommissioned.

They soared up what had once been the port bow of the cruiser, and the light of Naboo's star painted A-Wing shadows on the darkened metal.

Lieutenant Roulvecksch's snarl came across the comm: "Okay, Three-Flight. Light 'em up."

Ahead and to Loreli's left, the Shistavanen's A-Wing spat red lasers into the hollowed hulk of a drifting container. The lasers chewed holes easily in the unshielded metal flesh and sent the fried remains careening off into the velvety background of space.

Sella, his wingmate, opened fire simultaneously on a nearby freighter.

"Let's do this, Twelve," Loreli said softly into the comm.

"I'm with you, Eleven," Kitsy replied eagerly.

Thumbing the firing stud, Loreli dropped the aiming cross–hairs onto another container in her path. Keeping the A-Wing's belly close to the hollowed cruiser, the Princess waited until the numbers on the HUD had scrolled down to within two klicks, and then she hit the trigger.

Scarlet bolts lanced easily through the container's hull, and to her surprise, it erupted into an expanding fireball.

The engines were still inside, she thought bemusedly.

"Nice shooting, Eleven," Roulvecksch praised. "Stay tight with us."

Loreli allowed a small smile as she nudged her flightstick to bring the A-Wing closer to her wingmates'.

As Kitsy opened fire on a freighter, Loreli busied herself with the chewed–out nose of an X-Wing. Slightly ahead of them, Lieutenant Roulvecksch and Sella tackled a much larger chunk of a cruiser, blasting away until the metal superheated and flared out of existence.

Within three minutes, they had flown completely through the debris field and were turning around to rendezvous with the rest of the squadron.

Behind the Kiss of Life was the multicolored sphere of Naboo. It was even more beautiful from space than on the ground. The silver daggers that were the Alliance cruisers stood out vividly against the planetoid, crisscrossing a skyline that had not seen battle in almost a century.

Cane's snarl brought Loreli back to the present again. "Leader? Nine. Our run has been completed. Do we hold here or head back to Kiss?"

Commander Corsurge's voice crackled back immediately. "Affirmative, Nine. Dock your fighters and head straight for pilot debriefing. The rest of the squadron will be along shortly."

"Understood, Sir." Cane turned the A-Wing and sped off in the direction of the Mon Cal cruiser. Sella stayed close to the Shistavanen's starboard s-foil, and Loreli and Kitsy followed close behind them.

"Excellent hunting, Three-Flight," Cane praised as Commander Corsurge gave Two-Flight the go–ahead. "Ten, Twelve, not bad for a first run."

"I'm full of surprises," Sella returned roguishly.

"Thanks, Nine," Kisty replied meekly.

"And congratulations to you as well, Eleven," Cane said, addressing Loreli directly. "The second–place score goes to the quietest member of Green Squadron.

Loreli smiled. "We'll see how well it holds up after the others have flown the course, Nine."

"Quiet and modest," Cane muttered gruffly. Static rendered his words almost imperceptible. "Now that's a woman."

The comment was sexist, but it made them all laugh.

They docked successfully minutes later, and Loreli was proud of the way she bulls–eyed the landing pad with her A-Wing.

At first she'd been concerned with the snubfighter, because the Xj71s had been significantly more streamlined – and bigger. But she had quickly grown to appreciate the A-Wing's superior handling and maneuverability, not to mention its greater firepower and engineering.

She slapped the cockpit release and waited for it to rise up all the way.

Shrugging off her restraining belts, she got to her feet and removed her flight helmet. Out of habit, she shook loose her dark brown hair to free it.

Plaited into a braid that hung down to the small of her back, her hair had always been a nuisance for her. Strands were sticking out in all directions and clung painfully to her helmet as she pulled it off. Her mother would be mortified if she were to cut her hair, but if Loreli was going to be a part of the squadron, her hair couldn't become a problem.

Besides, it will always grow back. It's a small sacrifice to be made.

She climbed out of the cockpit and across the port s-foil, then down the service ladder a crewmanput into place for her.

Her female wingmen met her there, their faces flushed with excitement.

Sella had a lekku – fleshy tentacles, or braintail – looped around Kitsy's shoulders as the pair approached, and they both were babbling excitedly about what they seemed to think had been their best training run yet.

Kitsy was small and shy, somehow out of place in her green flightsuit, but her eyes were mature beyond her years. Perhaps it had come from watching the Vong destroy her home planet, or maybe there were other experiences marring her past that Loreli did not know of. At any rate, the girl was a more than able wingman despite her youth.

Sella was beautiful, even for a Twi'lek. Her flesh was a cream color close to human skin tone, and her eyes were a liquid fiery orange. Every inch of each lekku was tattooed with various symbols, and her teeth were razor sharp. Her smile, however, held no signs of threat – aside from friendly competition.

"Our scores were excellent!" she exclaimed, ruffling Kitsy's already mussed hair. "All of us above 2000!"

Loreli smiled in return and said nothing.

A moment later, Lieutenant Roulvecksch joined them. The three women quickly snapped salutes, but the wolfman waved them away with a furry paw.

"At ease," he ordered, crinkling his snout into a fair impression of a human smile. "Again, excellent performances. All three of you have impressed me, especially considering your lack of experience. You've all come a long way in a very short time."

Sella's orange eyes narrowed dangerously. "We're not green, Lieutenant. We've flown snubfighters before."

Cane's smile grew wider. They could see all of his canine teeth. "This is certainly true for you, Ms. Ruvek'astack."

The Twi'lek shot Loreli and Kitsy looks of intrigue and not a little annoyance. "You mean to tell me that Princess d'Accorde scored higher than me and has never flown in combat before?"

Kitsy blushed, and Loreli smiled faintly.

"I just got lucky," the Princess said quietly.

All three of her wingmates were silent for a moment, surprised by the uncommon response.

Finally, Sella folded her arms around her belly. "Are you sure you're a princess?" she asked suspiciously, brusquely shattering the awkward silence. "The only princesses I've ever interacted with have been bitches and snobs."

Her blunt speech made Loreli smile. "You're free to check my records, Sella – or you can take Commander Corsurge at his word. Please just call me Loreli, though."

"Fine," Sella snapped, and her orange yes had narrowed again. "Be warned, Loreli: if you challenge my sim standings again, I'll be forced to teach you a lesson – Princess or not."

Kitsy laughed, a malicious gleam in her youthful eyes.

"Watch it, Sella," she said, giving the Twi'lek woman a nudge with her elbow. In person, her voice was sweet and mellow – like her personality, and Loreli suddenly couldn't picture her in a snubfighter. "Loreli could easily kick your ass into next week, I think!"

Cane barked a harsh laugh before Sella could riposte, displaying his razor teeth again. "For now, Ms. Reaffe, let's impress Commander Corsurge by being down in pilot debriefing before he has to ask us twice."

He swept an arm in the general direction of the turbolift. "After you, ladies."

All four of them exited the hangar together – jesting, teasing, and laughing.