" The mission you've been assigned to is top secret. You are the top of your class and ranked first in combat. However, the confidentiality of this assignment is priority. Breathe a hint of this mission or its details and you will be personally executed by the Supreme Leader himself. Is that clear?"
"YES CAPTAIN PHASMA!"
The line of hand-picked officers to dutifully as Phasma nodded once and turned away from them. "The only authorized Personnel aware of this mission's existence are General Hux, myself," her head turned just enough over her shoulder to bring her tinted visor to sweep over the line of heavily armored troops, "and of course, the Supreme Leader. Any questions?"
Silence hung in the air.
"Excellent. Follow me."
The squadron marched behind Phasma in perfect formation down the long, black corridors, and through several high security doors, all of which Phasma was required to halt the troops and input her personal clearance code. They continued to a newly built and isolated entrance to a flight hangar. Phasma paused in front of the door once more to input her code. After she had finished, her finger halted above the confirm key. "One more bit of information on this mission. This hangar never existed. Those of you who think otherwise will have to answer to the Supreme Leader."
All members of the squadron simultaneously gripped their blasters a little tighter as the narrow door began to open. The troops followed Phasma single file into the hangar, each feeling a slight shiver crawl down their spine as they crossed into what had to have been the absolute tiniest hangar ever built. After walking in a few feet, Phasma suddenly halted the party and waited.
A dead quiet filled the small hangar. Had Phasma not been present, the squadron might have turned to each other to exchange confused glances. Had Phasma been mistaken? Was this the wrong hangar entirely? What was its purpose, and why would this almost comically tiny hangar be behind so many security levels?
Phasma seemed to be able to sense the unease of the squadron. "Steady," she cautioned. "the transport should be arriving at any moment."
A few more minutes passed, each meeting the same fate of being spent in silence. A more daring member of the squad was about to present the idea of contacting General Hux about the delay when one spotted it. Phasma straightened and observed the transport draw nearer.
The first thing the squadron took note of, something that was next to impossible not to notice, was the color. Never had such a violent shade of pink curse the outside of a spacecraft. The second origin of interest was the transport's model. The squadron had never seen anything like the TIE fighter that approached them steadily. Not only was the fighter that blasted shade of pink, it was half the size of a regular fighter.
'What the hell was going on...?' They began to wonder.
The tiny excuse for a spacecraft completed the rest of its journey to the hangar and gently rested on the miniature landing pad.
"Steady." Phasma murmured.
The tiny TIE gave a small hiss as the entryway opened. The closest members of the squadron couldn't help but crane their necks to try to get a glimpse of the pilot. Those who succeeded recoiled in surprise, as a tiny child shuffled out of the fighter. Waddling up to Phasma, the bleary eyed girl rubbed her eyes. She must have been sleeping until the landing sequence woke her up. Phasma remained in utter silence as she gaped at the girl. When she had finished rubbing her eyes, the child seemed to take notice of her surroundings as she hid shyly behind the plush porg doll she had toted from her ship. Her eyes made their way to Phasma's visor as she gave a small wave with her free hand. Her childish voice, though a tad muffled by the fur of her doll, echoed in the otherwise silent hangar.
"I'm Padme."
If there weren't any questions before the mission began, there sure were now.
