Never fear, @pegasxssquadron Help is here!
“No thanks, I’ve got this one covered.”
It’s your standard fare of search and rescue; a tiny blip out there in dead space among rock and debris. Nothing too big like a carrier of frigate— that’d need triple the manpower and more resources than one team could handle.
Just a tiny blip. Probably an escape pod or a busted satellite. It’s the kind of thing Fox can go at alone.
Fuel doesn’t come cheap, y’know.
“Alright, I’m coming in range of the signal now. Can’t see it just yet.”
There’s nobody on the other end of those comms and there doesn’t have to be. It’s all set to record for the logs-- or in case there’s trouble.
Controls are tight, adjustments are nice and easy; yeah, the Arwing handles like a dream even through a debris field. Especially through a debris field. Fox cuts through the stars like butter and slides through gaps and ridges a less seasoned pilot (or call ‘em less cocksure maybe) wouldn’t ever think of taking.
There’s a couple more reasons Fox sometimes goes it alone. This is a dream and it’s blissful.
A ping makes it through on the dashboard. Fox cuts on the thrust and pulls back so he has time to check the screens. He’s close but beyond the glare through the canopy there’s nothing catching his eye yet. A couple quick motions on the keys and he’s got a channel opened up with the nearby signal.
Two chances, right?
“Arwing-class. Callsign: Fox. I’m responding to a distress beacon at these co-ordinates. If you’re out there and listening, please respond.”
