Shadel Littles looked outside her cockpit off to port, glad to see another XJ7 X-Wing lagging only slightly behind her. Her instruments showed her wing was in perfect formation, but she still preferred to use her own visuals whenever possible.
She'd been given the Rogue Nine designation for this run, which placed her as the head of her group, and she wasn't going to mess up. Everything had to be perfect, because that's what the Rogues did, and to excel among them, she had to be the absolute best.
This was a simple mission though, and it would be hard to shine enough to prove to her commander that she was right for the open spot as a wing-leader. She knew that it would probably be impossible to show enough on this run, but if she handled the responsibility well today, she'd definitely get another chance to shine. If not... well, she didn't want to think of what that would mean beyond utter embarrassment.
It was just the four X-Wings for this particular flight, so while she was only in the temporary wing-leader position, she was also the mission's commander. She bit back her smile and pride, calling her attention back to what laid ahead.
"Form up, Rogues. The freighter in question should be popping up on sensors any moment now."
Her comm crackled to life. "We are formed up, Nine."
"Cut the chatter, Eleven." Damnit, Goran... don't make me look bad. She thought to herself.
As she had warned, the blip showed on her sensor panel. "Let's get in for a visual and make contact." She ordered.
She banked and turned slightly to starboard, and was happy to see that her fellow pilots kept their formation perfectly.
As they closed in, her eyes confirmed what her computer likely would shortly after. It was an old Kuat medium freighter that even with some defensive modifications, stood no chance against four XJ7s straight off the production lines. Actually, she figured four freight skiffs could take it out with Rogues piloting them... even if it was green Rogues like her and her group.
"Rogue Leader to unidentified freighter - You have crossed into a no-fly zone. Please identify your name and purpose here."
She wasn't sure if she would get a small rebuke for identifying herself as Rogue Leader, but she figured that the title was more likely to get a amenable response out of the crew of the freighter. Everyone knew about Rogue Squadron, and while the leader varied over the years, it was always unmistakeably one of the very last people in the galaxy you want centering you in their crosshairs.
Her wingman followed her as she did a flyby the canopy of the freighter, as the Rogue Eleven and Twelve took up a position behind the ship. She was met with nothing more than static on the comm. The canopy was blacked out, so she couldn't get a visual on the crewers.
As she was beginning her loop around for another pass and perhaps a warning shot to let them know she was serious, she tried again. "Rogue Leader to unidentified freighter. Please identi-"
A small explosion shook her ship and she broke into a hard turn and quickly noted on her sensors that there were still four XJ7s running optimally. She breathed a sigh of relief as she tried to figure out what just happened.
The freighter was gone. The scanners and her R5 unit were working quickly to scan the debris to figure out the cause. It didn't take long, but it took Shadel a second to understand.
There were four older model X-Wings flying out of the debris of the freighter. Her first thought was naturally that they had come out of nowhere and blown their way through it. She immediately knew that didn't make sense either, but her R5 had the real answer for her.
The old X-Wings had blown out of the freighter. It was a shell. A trap.
"All pilots break by wings, and come around and try to find a solution!" She managed to order into her communicator without yelling. As she finished her loop she managed to catch the flare of light from the second half of her wing falling prey to proton torpedoes.
Stupid. She berated herself. They knew that we would leave fighters behind the freighter. They never had a chance.
Turning towards the nearest two targets, she put her thrusters to full and switched to forward shields. They closed quickly, and her target immediately began jerking erratically when she attempted to get a target lock of her own.
They're good... but not good enough. "Switch to lasers. I've got lead." She ordered as she followed the twisting dive of the older model in front of her.
Pulling out of the dive again, she managed a few quick shots, each passing just off the wing of her adversary.
She cursed again as she was led into another slower loop. "Ten, we're going to have to try to herd them into a better position if we're going to get them."
Her droid whistled at her. Ten was gone, and behind her was the other two X-Wings.
Pulling back hard on her yoke, she began a tight loop to buy herself a minute to think. Her forward canopy was filled with a pair of proton torpedoes.
------------------------
Her simulator roof cracked open automatically, and she had to squint to adjust to the difference in lighting.
After climbing down, she half walked half jogged to the man chuckling on the other side of the simulator.
"Colonel Celchu!' She pointed her finger at him "Was that you?"
The man just shook his head and chuckled.
"Then where is the Hutt-slime that hijacked my mission?"
"Easy there, Littles." He held up his hands gesturing for her to calm down. "General 'Hutt-slime' Antilles is probably in his personal simulator in his office, laughing like the Hutt-slime he is."
Shadel nodded in understanding, still fuming about her utter failure on this mission, and how it would affect her chances at a promotion. She gave a brief salute and when Tycho returned it, she turned to storm off to her quarters.
"Littles?" Her commander called after her.
She stopped and turned, back at attention.
"He's laughing because I was Rogue Ten on this exercise... and he got me before he got you."
Shadel understood his meaning, but she didn't find it as funny as the legendary General did.
"Now if you'll excuse me..." said the Colonel as he dusted off his flight suit. "I have to get started on procuring a particularly rare Corellian Whisky the General is fond of."
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