Instalment 1, Axxila, 7 BBY

Three years seems short in the span of the universe, but it's long enough to create sentiment.

I never thought that I would leave the Ciutric Hegemony. Indeed, after 17 years living in the System, three of those in service to the local antipirate fleet, I was content to stay here until the end of my days. But, as fate would have it, I was to move.

The message had arrived three daily cycles ago, the nerve to tell Squadron Leader Piett only one. And now, 12 years into the Imperial Era , I was to be sent to the Academy.

Obviously, I was as overjoyed as any other young militant when I'd turned on my datapad to see the formal text and the ever-imposing logo of the Galactic Empire (Brendol, my father, could not afford to enrol me as it was) but with it, came the bittersweet realisation that I would be leaving what had been my home for three years, and to possibly never set foot on the dirty urban developments of Axxila again before my death.

The thought had left a bitter taste in my mouth for hours, hence why l'd refused to fully acknowledge the message and show it to my superior until two daily cycles after receiving it. However, the way Piett barely read it, a knowing glint in his eyes, made me wonder if he already knew. I would not be surprised, out of all of us he was the most strategic, his dedication and integrity the reason he was Squadron Leader. Though the message itself had surprised me, why would the message arrive now, when the average age of an initiate was 9? Why to me, barely three years into Imperial service?

Either way, what little belongings I had were packed, and the transport shuttle was a few steps away, the thrum and heat of the engines warming my face and dishevelling copper hair.

"You'll do well, Gadd."

Piett had grasped my forearm as I grasped his, linking them in the not-quite handshake and not-quite hug that was common within the Outer Rim.

"I- Thank you, Squadron Leader- "

"Firmus."

I was certain that my eyes had widened, and I probably grasped onto Piett's forearm a little too tight,

"-Firmus. I will be sure to make you proud."

There was that glint again, making the 33-year-old seem more my own age, and I already knew the next words.

"I know."

My smile was forced, a pleasantry unwillingly partook. This was a wonderful opportunity, a chance to be more than a nameless cadet who hunted down pirates, but it still hurt.

"Perhaps we will meet again."

Piett- Firmus held on a second longer than regular procedure with his words, phrasing them as a statement rather than a question; and it gave me more hope that before for the next stage of my life.

With a firm nod, we let go of each other, and I took the time to swiftly make eye contact with the rest of our squad. Then, I was gone, carrying a small canvas bag over my shoulder as I boarded the shuttle, refusing to glace back even one until he had entered hyperspace.

Three years truly is too short.