Andretti's Journal of Heroism

Urà! Finally, a chance to prove myself in REAL combat! Well, kind of real.

I hadn’t been at the new base long when some grumpy commander got all of us in a row and started yelling at us. I was so excited! We were supposed to do some training mission, a free-for-all. At first I thought it might be a way to establish pecking order, or maybe just an expensive ice-breaker activity.

There were mostly humans in the room, but I did notice a Mirialan with a bored look on her face and a really short Chadra-fan who looked nervous to me. Or maybe he was just identifying marks for pickpocketing later. I gave him a double thumbs-up with my two arms that were hidden from the commander behind my back. And when some scemo made a wisecrack at me for something, the thumbs-up became a more rude gesture while I saluted the commander and hopped into my TIE.

We quickly found ourselves in a boring, open patch of space not too far from the base, green lasers firing everywhere. Sensors were down - no details on any targets, so I went for the one who seemed to be winning. I started off poorly, missing my target and then getting tagged from behind. My lasers sputtered and lost power, and I had to accelerate hard to avoid another TIE targetting me. I tried to pull a classic reversal, but it failed me - too much speed, I suppose, and too many enemy targets. A TIE without a squadron is tricky.

I managed to get revenge and eliminate the pilot who first shot me, but then the second TIE damaged my engines - and I was sent hurtling in one direction away from battle. But I managed to get a direct hit on another TIE that flashed right in front of me - Blammo! I think it was the Chadra-fan. He was focused on chasing down a scraped-up fighter.

All my arms were hard at work trying to rewire the controls and restart my engines. I actually managed to get things running again just as the angry commander decided to “teach us a lesson” - he flew into the scrum, formed up with several pilots, but leaving three of us behind. Me, the Chadra-fan, and I think it was the Mirialan. Hmm. Uomini stupidi.

Because of my distance, I was able to set up an excellent attack run. I twisted and spun my fighter around behind their formation and quickly dispatched number 11 - she had been running away from everyone for most of the skirmish. I had the commander lined up, and he couldn’t shake me.

I was just about to pull the trigger on the leader, when his ship exploded in front of me. I think it was #8 - the one who shot me twice, and later I found out she called herself “Rabbit” - thought she was a real fancy flyer. Bah.

We were all called in and were yelled at some more, but I was satisfied with 3 kills to my name. It turns out our leader’s ejection system wasn’t working properly, and he suffered some major injuries. Serves him right. And everyone was blaming US. The “aliens.” Typical. If I had shot down the commander on purpose, he would be space dust - they think I am inept??

Before things got out of hand, a Chiss commander stepped forward and shut down the debriefing. She started talking about a special squadron, and I immediately volunteered. Fame and glory comes with special squads, right? Just what I was looking for. Clearly she recognized the best of the best.

On our down time I tried to make friends with the others - convinced them to join me in an elite difficulty level simulator run. Our patrol boat was toasted, but we were outnumbered 17-1, and took down seven before they got us. Looks like that Mirialan sure knows her torpedos and guns, and the Chadra-fan is decent with a wrench. Juru and Kiks. I think we all need proper callsigns. Is “Ace” overdone? Hmm, maybe “Maestro” - I like the sound of that.