Bonit splashed her face with water. It had been hours since the “training” exercise where Bonit had to learn both how to pilot a starship and learn to maneuver within a warzone. Oh, and how to shoot down a hostile ship. Bonit wasn’t new to combat or even a battle; the fanatics serving under Ulgo’s flag popped that cherry; but Bonit had never been a part of a situation like this with absolutely no training. And to say dog fighting was just another combat was like saying repairing a tear in the aorta was just another stitch job. Bonit didn’t- hadn’t known how to fly a starship beyond pushing the yoke dips the nose and pulling the yoke lifts the nose, and now Bonit can say she somehow had out flown trained military pilots. To say the day was stressful would be an understatement. To say the day was one of the most stressful of her life, in spite of having fought stormtroopers in a war zone with a lightsaber, would be more accurate.
Of course she had help. Knight Wincott took most of the blows until she was out of the game. Raskt also took many blows, though his were probably less intended, and more than a few of those blows were from the debris he ran into. Nez was also there for support, but his ability to hit a target equalled Bonit’s. The real saving grace had been the legend himself coming to back us up; Wedge Antilles (whom, Bonit was embarrassed to admit, she had not recognized until quite a bit later). Kreynja and Boda had also been there somewhere apparently and they had gotten themselves a pretty impressive kill count, even if Kreynja had gotten knocked out of the game.
Speaking of. Obviously it was a “game”, but it’s supposed to simulate the real thing. And in the real thing three of them would be, well, maybe not dead but floating around in escape pods waiting for rescue in an active combat zone. The whole point of the exercise was to be a space where mistakes could be made with no consequence. But Bonit couldn’t help but think that if this had been the real thing then…
Bonit felt something bump her out of her thoughts and looked down. There, at her ankles, was Mawshock pushing a datapad into her leg. Bonit couldn't help but smiled at this; perhaps taking an emotional support pet into a dog fight was atypical, but Mawshock’s presence had helped ground Bonit through the affair. Even if Mawshock's pawing at the yoke during the more intense moments of the fight could get annoying. Bonit reached down and picked up Mawshock and pulled the data pad out of his mouth.
“What have you got here? A news article?” Bonit said as she slowly skimmed the text.
“About… an illegal cybernetic popular with pod racers? Why did you… MAWSHOCK! I am not installing a neuromachine interface into your body! I can’t belie- like a hutt grandma! Look here you little shit!”