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Simulators: ISD Peril

"Watch it Eleven! You've got one on your tail!" She recognized that voice to be General Mieter. She hadn't known him very long yet, but she liked the 'kid' from Tatooine.

Cherin glanced over her shoulder as she pushed her snubfighter's nose down, then sharply jinked high and right, rolling the ship so she could track the enemy fighter visually. She watched the enemy TIE Interceptor zip past her, mere meters from her cockpit, and slipped down onto its six'o'clock.

Cherin flicked a switch and put a quad-linked shot through the squint. "Thank you, Two!"

Ahead of her, a whole flotilla of Corvettes crowded the sky. She was pleased to note that none of them had left yet. The furball with the fighters had carried the squadron out quite a distance from them, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that the Corvettes couldn't fire on them; a curse in that every time the squadron tried to get back to IDing the Corvettes, something else would intercept them. Fortunately, as this was a simulated mission, and had been selected for the purpose of learning to fight as a team, this was a non-issue. The more important part of the flight was to integrate Cherin into the squadron.

Cherin turned back toward the dogfight and came face to face with a very battered gunship. A glimpse at her CMD showed its shields were down. She didn't need her CMD to see that its hull was barely holding together. She squeezed off a linked shot at it, a snap reaction. Her bolts got there just nanoseconds after someone else's.

The first shot must have gone through the gunship's powerplant; one second it was right there in front of her, the next, it was so much shrapnel. There weren't even any big chunks of it left. The metal confetti plinked harmlessly off Cherin's shields as she passed through the edge of the explosion. She saw her flight group leader flash by her starboard side.

"Was that your handywork, Nine?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Not bad, Lieutenant." She didn't think it likely that shot had been a surgically precise one, she suspected it was luck, that was a tough shot to make.

----

Days later. Briefing Room: ISD Peril

Though Cherin was sprawled in her chair, and had her feet propped up on the chair in front of her, she was anything but languid. She twitched her right foot rhythmically, twirled the end of her braided black hair between her fingertips, and chewed on her datapad stylus anxiously.

It was very uncharacteristic of a Chiss to show emotions so openly, but her time among other races had shown her that remaining cold and aloof had a negative effect on unit cohesion. Among humans especially, sentimental attachment went hand-in-hand with trust. Without trust, many squadrons functioned poorly.

She doubted she could reintegrate back into Chiss society now if she tried. Strangely, she was okay with that. Humans held a certain fascinating appeal; their passion for life, love, and exploration was invigorating.

Cherin noticed one of the new faces, someone from another squadron, glancing her way, an irritated fire in his eyes, until he saw her rank tab. That stopped him cold, and he turned his attention back to the briefing.

There were a few new faces and names to put together - this was to be expected, she had been gone several years - but there weren't nearly as many as she thought there would be. In fact, there was a surprising dearth of RS personnel. Nowhere had that been more noticeable than in the Bar and Grill. She'd expected there would be a lot of people in the Bar and Grill when she went there a few nights ago, but it had been empty, except for the serving droid. She'd known Republic Shield was in trouble; she hadn't realized they were that hard-pressed to find personnel.

Returning to Republic Shield had seemed a good idea at the end of her last tour of duty. Now, on the eve of a real battle, Cherin wasn't so sure it had been the correct decision. Her last tour of duty had been very light on real flying. Copious simulator time didn't even begin to compare to flying in a real furball, and she knew it.

Furthermore, she understood there were certain expectations of higher-ranking pilots, especially those assigned to an elite squadron. Red Dragon Squadron was widely known as the die hard squadron, a reputation earned many years ago, back before Cherin had even joined NRSC.

If she was going to fly with the Red Dragons, she'd better live up to what her file suggested she could do.

----

One hour later. Hangar: ISD Peril

The briefing over, Cherin stepped into the hangar, and did a quick walk-around pre-flight check of her X-wing. It was strange to see it in its factory default colors. Every X-wing she had flown before had been painted in squadron colors, but this one was shiny and new, fresh out of the factory. She hoped that wouldn't cause problems. Rumor had it that some of the changes made to the X-wing design in the last several years could be problematic. While she didn't put as much stock in rumor as some of the rookies, it was still something she was mindful of. Rumors often had their origins in the tiniest gem of truth.

She reached up to the port-side cannons and yanked firmly on each of them in turn, putting all of her weight behind it. Neither of them budged. She nodded, satisfied, then ducked under them. Above her, her astromech was being lifted into its slot behind the cockpit.

As she climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, she noticed two things conspicuously missing - her name, and a decal she'd applied to every fighter she'd ever flown for the New Republic: Proud Anti B-Wing Brigade Member.