Quickly, with practiced ease, Jegora Fal ran through the corridors of the modified
Executor-class Super Star Destroyer
Atrus, the ship that was oftentimes described as the heart of the Vast Empire. The
Atrus served as the flagship of the Vast Empire, and also as a mobile staging ground for multiple operations, both Navy and Army. It was an impressive ship, and the thousands of men and women that served were stationed on it were proud to call the
Atrus home. Jegora Fal counted himself among these people.
This wasn’t Jeg’s first run through the
Atrus. In fact, he ran the same route every morning, a winding path that led him two kilometers through the ship before depositing him back at his cabin. It was by no means the longest route he could have run, but it was the most convenient, and by the end of the run he always had a good sweat going. After the run he would hit the gym, or not, depending on how he felt on that particular day. Today he was feeling quite lazy, and so by the first kilometer he had decided to skip the gym and head straight to the closest mess hall for breakfast.
By the time he was within half a kilometer of his room, people were beginning to filter into Jeg’s corridor. The men and women who lived and worked in this hall knew him on sight, and expected to see him every morning. Some even waved as he went jogging by. Jeg, on the other hand, barely noticed them, his quick pace causing his breath to become more and more labored. When Jeg finally reached his room, he had to stop and put his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths. He stood like that for a long moment, trying to regulate his heart and his breathing, until he heard a commotion coming from down the hall.
The hall that Jeg’s cabin was located in was a main personnel corridor, used by pilots and crewman alike. At one end of the hall was a large hangar, where Nazgul and two other squadrons kept their TIE’s. Those same three squadrons, including Nazgul, had rooms up and down the corridor for easy access to their fighters. At the other end of the corridor was a rather large mess hall. There was also a gym and an off-duty lounge within easy walking distance. All in all, it was a very good part of the
Atrus, and Jeg was happy to call it his home.
The disturbance Jeg had detected was coming from the direction of the mess hall, not forty yards away from where he was standing in front of his cabin door. Letting out a small sigh, Jegora decided that he’d better see what the problem was. As the ranking officer in this particular area of the
Atrus, any problems that arose would reflect poorly on Jeg’s record more than anyone else’s.
As he approached the scene, Jeg began to get a better idea of what was going on. Two crewmen who Jeg vaguely recognized were confronting a shorter woman with spiky blond hair. The angle of Jeg’s approach meant that the two men could see him coming, but the woman could not. As he neared the scene, it became obvious that the crewman hadn’t noticed Jegora yet.
“C’mon girlie,” the one said, trying to sound menacing, “What’re ya doing here?”
The woman put her hands on her hips and looked the larger crewman right in the eye. “What I’m doing here is none of your business. Now please, can you either give me directions or move out of my way?”
The other crewman responded with something that Jeg couldn’t quite hear. Never the less, it seemed to set the woman on edge, and her whole body tensed.
“Oh yeah?” she said, obviously angry, “well maybe you’ll have to try that, and we’ll see how far you get.”
Hearing those words, and seeing the reaction of the two crewmen, Jegora realized that violence was imminent. He decided it was time to step in, lest someone get hurt in his corridor. He began moving once again in the direction of the argument, this time taking long and purposeful strides.
When he finally approached, Jegora didn’t even have to say anything. He had spent four years as a ship’s mechanic aboard the
Atrus, rising unnaturally fast to the rank of Master Chief Petty Officer, before joining the Star Fighter Corps and earning his Aviator Wings along with an Officer’s commission. The fact that he had previously been a high-ranking non-com earned him the respect of all enlisted personnel; the fact that he was now an officer gave him some semblance of fame aboard the
Atrus. The minute the two crewmen saw him they took a step back, and Jeg saw a hint of fear touch the older man’s eyes. Although he was respected by the crewman, Jegora had a reputation for his cold and uniquely effective style of discipline: boxing.
Nodding to the two men, he spoke. As he did, the woman whirled; she hadn’t even known he was there. “Crewman,” he said, his voice hard, “we need to have a few rounds in the ring one of these days.”
Blinking, the younger of the two men didn’t seem to quite understand. The older man, however, did, and he shook his head. “No sir,” he said quickly, “I don’t think that will be necessary. How about you, Kline?” he asked the younger man.
“Well, I don’t really see why-” the younger man began, and was quickly cut off by an elbow from his older and wiser friend.
Jegora gave a curt nod. “Best be on your way, then,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The two crewmen nodded, snapped to attention, turned, and walked off as fast as they could without breaking into an actual jog. Jeg allowed himself a small smile as he turned his attention back to the woman. Much to his chagrin, she was furious.
“I had it under control,” she said angrily. Jegora nodded, already looking for an escape route.
How come when I rescue women they never seem to be as grateful as they should be? he thought to himself. Brushing of the self pity that was silently waiting in the wings, Jegora turned his full attention back to the woman in front of him. She had gone silent, and Jegora was in no mood to fill the silence with words that would most likely get him yelled at again. Instead, he studied the woman standing before him.
She was smaller than Jegora, but she wasn’t exactly ‘short’. She had bright, electric blue eyes, and her dark blonde hair was cut short and spiky. As for her age, Jeg guessed it to be somewhere around he own, if not a little younger.
She’s quite pretty, Jegora thought to himself. When he realized what he was thinking, he blinked. The woman was obviously here on official business, and it wouldn’t do to go around thinking things like that. Those kinds of thoughts led only to trouble.
The woman spoke, breaking the silence and Jeg’s thoughts. “Well,” she asked, “are you just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to answer my question? Since you seem so eager to help, I hope it will be the latter.”
Jegora sighed to himself. “What can I do for you, ma’am?” he asked as politely as he could.
The woman eyed Jeg as if unsure of his intentions. “I have orders to report to Lt. Fal for a room assignment, but I don’t know where I can find him,” she said.
Jegora sighed, this time aloud. Motioning for the girl to follow, Jegora backtracked to his room and went inside.
“Come on in,” he said rather grudgingly. Not many people ever came in his cabin, but he felt it would be best to be polite. “Can I get your name?” he asked, picking up his datapad.
The woman, who had by this time taken a seat in one of the chairs, nodded. “First Sergeant Aeos,” she said.
Jegora raised his eyebrows at that. “Aeos…” he said, trailing off.
She shrugged. “Just Aeos,” she answered. Jegora shrugged back and went back to his datapad. Sure enough, he had orders to accommodate First Sergeant Aeos with a room (to herself) and any other assistance she might need.
Quickly typing out a few messages to his squadron, Jegora rearranged some of the sleeping assignments, freeing up a room for Aeos. His squadron mates wouldn’t like it, but they didn’t really have much of a choice.
“Ok,” Jegora said after a moment, “I freed you up a room, #0817 to be exact. Feel free to ask anyone wearing a Nazgul patch to help you move in.”
Aeos blinked, then looked at Jegora hard. “You’re Lt. Fal?” she asked.
Jegora let out a grin. “The one and only,” he responded, hoping to restore some of his pride.
It didn’t work.
