Myra's transition from her home planet to the Finalizer had ended far too soon. Looking out at the massive ship from the, significantly, smaller one the recruits were on, Myra felt minuscule. She could feel the knots twisting in her stomach, and a slight sense of nausea, with her growing anticipation. Myra wasn't intimidated by the job itself, she had been assigned to an archiving unit. She knew that would be boring and easy, but the newness and solidarity of that ship and everything it represented glared at her the way a predator glares at its prey. It left Myra with the immediate knowledge that no matter how long she stayed there, how far up the ranks she moved, or how much she liked her job she could never truly belong there among all the order and rigid protocol.
After the smaller transport docked, and all the recruits stepped out onto the Finalizer for the first time, Myra felt a stinging dryness in her nose. She assumed it was from all the recycled air, and wondered how long it might take for her nose to start bleeding. However, the focus on that sensation did not last long as all of the Storm-troopers bustling around, fulfilling their tasks, quickly grabbed her attention. She had always known the First Order had a plethora of Storm-troopers, but never before could she truly understand the magnitude of the numbers and power they held; and this was only one ship. The First Order had hundreds of ships, and hundreds of bases, and Myra wondered, for the briefest moment, how the Resistance ever thought they had the remotest chance of winning this war.
It was true, they had a young new Jedi now, but the First Order had one too. Perhaps he wasn't as good and pure as everyone heard the girl was, but, if anything, that should only make it easier for him to defeat her. Even if Kylo Ren failed, the First Order certainly had the numbers required for victory. The Resistance had not acquired such numbers. Myra couldn't believe anyone in the Resistance was still alive at all. With such strength and resources assaulting them at every opportunity, they should all have been wiped out at the very beginning.
The realization about how impossible it should have been for the Resistance to stay alive, and the baffling notion that they had done it anyway, made the Resistance seem truly formidable to Myra for the first time in her life. The only way they could possibly be able to win any battle had to have been through fierce tactic and unpredictable timing.
Myra was pulled from her epiphany by a sinewy man with tangerine hair speaking to the recruiting officers. She noted how he was dressed very similarly to everyone else, the only exceptions being that his outfit was black instead of gray, he had an additional coat, and an absurd, useless hat with flaps that stuck up on the side and a wide brim. Myra wondered for a brief moment, why he thought he could reasonably pull that accessory off. Who the hell needs a hat like that in space, there was no sun anywhere in sight.
"General Hux, sir; we have arrived with the new recruits." The recruiting officer stated the obvious, the General knew exactly who they were the moment he saw their transport come into view from the windows of the Finalizer. However, he chose to keep that to himself. He fancied himself a bit more civil than his commanding counterpart, whom he thanked the stars had not come to address the recruits as well.
"Excellent, have them well acquainted with their posts and then you may show them to their rooms." The General had a faint, and somewhat smug smile on his face. He had not necessarily seemed smug about the situation, or even his station in comparison to his initiates; but rather in the sense that he was just an overly confident and smug person in general. Myra thought about what his face might have looked like after the First Order's latest failure in destroying the Resistance. She imagined he was crushed by it, and angry; he was far too proud to not be affected by such a loss. However, she wouldn't know until the next failure. And now that the First Order's former Supreme Leader was deceased, and the new one had a notoriously high temper, Myra was certain such a failure would happen again. Now that she had begun to wonder about his face, she hoped to god she would be there to see his face when the failure did happen.
Myra did not realize how absorbed she was in her thoughts, she did not realize that the entire time she had been walking with the one other recruit that was in archiving, and she had not paid any attention to how they were getting there. As Myra listened to the heavy footsteps of the recruiting officer in front of her, she decided it wasn't worth it to even try to figure it out now.
Instead she shifted her attention to the boy walking silently beside her. She was very short, around five feet and two inches; this boy was maybe three or four inches taller than her. He was more muscular than someone she would have expected to be assigned to archives, and she wondered what his exam scores had looked like to land him the same job as her. She noted his sandy blond hair, which fell just above his eyes. It looked so soft and fine, Myra had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it; beside, she was positive she would have the opportunity at some point. Many boys had bad habits of doting on her, and she was hoping that this boy would not be the exception. He had a beautiful nose, which was straight, with the most adorable upturned bottom. It almost reminded her of a perfect ski slope; not that she had ever actually been skiing. Her eyes wandered down to his lips; they were just full enough to be appealing. And he was the perfect height for her to kiss him, most boys were far too tall. Even the color of his skin was the perfect shade of light tan. The only thing she still needed to see was his eye color, but even without it she could plainly see how conventionally attractive this boy was; she even wondered what the First Order policy on dating co-workers was for a moment.
It did not take long for her to get her wish in seeing this boy's eye color as he looked directly at her with his perfect hazel eyes and she realized she had been staring quite obviously. Myra quickly looked away hoping he had not noticed quite how long she was staring, but he had noticed the moment she looked at him. He immediately decided he loved the way she stared and he loved the way her cheeks turned rosy when he made it clear he noticed.
"My name is Luca," said the boy, attempting to make Myra more comfortable.
"Myra," was all she replied with, choosing to wallow in embarrassment instead of conversing with him.
The rest of the walk to archives was silent, save for the footsteps of the recruiting officer; who was desperately trying to hand them off to their new supervisor as soon as humanly possible.