As far as Flight Commander Bette Davis was concerned, if she ever saw that Endor moon again, it would be too soon.

The Empire had lost a lot of good men that day. A lot of good pilots. After the battlefield recovery had begun, Shadow Squadron had been recalled to the Termagant, and the horrors of the day had finally started to sink in. Bette had had nightmares every night of the events that had decimated her squadron. Every night for five days.

Now that the Termagant was in high orbit over Imperial Center, Shadow Squadron had been given a week of shore leave. Shooter adjusted her white tank top, and bent over to lace up her boots.

"Are you coming?" Chambers poked her head into the barracks, locating Davis sitting on her rack. "You're going to miss the shuttle. Sir."

"Be right there." Bette straightened, grabbed her bag, and walked to the shuttle bay. She was going to be spending some quality with with Val, away from the eyes of their superiors, and that alone was cause for celebration.

The entire squadron was going to be meeting at The Lucky Shrike Bar in the Coco District for drinks. To honor their fallen comrades.