Two

When I was finally let out of the hospital tent, things had changed. Which is why I'm now sitting at the back of my platoon tent; basically trying to be invisible. At first, I didn't really notice what was going on, but then I accidentally overheard some people from the supply unit talking. And I absolutely didn't like it. Basically, word about my little 'outburst' towards Danna had gotten round pretty fast, and like any good rumor it got more and more exaggerated every time it went to someone new.

As a result, by the time I had gotten out of the hospital tent, they had already labeled me as the "crazy fury with the fire hair" or something like that. In the end, all the avoiding glances and the people scurrying out of my way – together with the all the stuff whispered behind my back – made me go on a nearly frantic search for a quiet place.

And now I'm sitting here, staring at the practically endless wasteland before me, always keeping an ear out for someone who could possibly happen by. I just should have known something like the thing that happened between Danna and me wouldn't be kept quiet for long. People like to talk.

I lean back on the tent and close my eyes. Dawn's just beginning, and Tatooine's two suns are starting their inexorable crawl over the dunes. It's actually a very beautiful sight, as long as you don't think about the fact that behind the next dune, your death could be waiting for you.

I take another breath and open my eyes again, taking in more of the stunning spectacle that is dawn on Tatooine. Back on Chandrila I used to stay up whole nights, often talking to my best friend or just reading, just to watch the sunrise.

I have to close my eyes again, because a wave of home-sickness just dropped down on me. Taking a steadying breath, I briefly wish I could just wait until breakfast and see if Danna has a little time to talk. Usually Danna's great with listening, but ever since me shouting at her I haven't seen anything of her. Not even a cold glance or anything like that. It's as if she made herself disappear from my radar, which makes it impossible for me to apologize to her.

"Tarkker. Farrayn. Melara. Attittalon. Winters. Tre'gar.", Sarge suddenly bellows out through the tent, and receives a "Yes sir!" from the three humans and the Bothan, and a roar from the Wookiee. Trying to shake off the last grasping tendrils of home-sickness, I jump up and make a run for the tent's entrance, lining up beside the guys who are already standing at attention outside.

Well, DBP again, I'll bet. What I wouldn't give for another night in the field hospital. Or kitchen duty. Or even one of Sarge's famous "Mon Calamari runs" – he calls them like this because "We'll be running until you fucking replacements feel like you're running through deep water!". Just not another DBP. Every time I've got to walk through that damn ghost city in the northwest sector, I'm on the edge the whole time. And when I get back, I'm always drenched in sweat, and not from the heat. 'Sides I still get mild vertigo attacks every time I ride in a box.

"Alright replacements, gear up and be at the landing pad in ten. Time starts… now." Gah! Did he have to yell that directly into my face? Now I've got to run around with his nasty germs on it for the whole DBP, because I'll never be able to wash my face before taking off.

The others gear up in a kind of professional hurry, but I'm as clumsy as ever. Frantically getting my gear and hoping to the Force and all the gods from the ancient Chandrilan pantheon that I don't forget anything, I pack my things.

I'm just about to storm out of the tent, when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I whirl around, perhaps a little too fast, throwing a "What?" at the one who dared to disturb me.

"Thought you might want to take your canteen with you.", a rather quiet Xan says and holds my canteen in his hand.

Ever since my outburst at Danna in the hospital tent made it's way into the rumor mill, people have been trying to steer clear of me. Most of the teasing subsided after only a couple of days, but so did the general social interaction. Some of them even threw me wary, or even hostile looks. After two days of that treatment, I actually would have been happy about a little teasing. But up to Xanas now speaking to me, I had to put up with cautious to hostile silence.

I take a deep breath, even managing a smile, when I take my canteen and say: "Yeah. Uh… thank you."

And what a surprise, Xanas manages a smile as well. Seems at least one person isn't afraid of me anymore.


When I arrive at the landing pad, I'm a little flustered. What's the LT doing here all geared-up? He almost never actually goes out, or so I've heard. As we run to the box that's ready to lift off at a moment's notice, I throw a casual glance at Xan, mouthing "What the fuck?", but he just gives a shrug and lines up next to the others. The LT clears his throat. Oooh, speech time!

"Alright people, listen up! I know you were expecting to go on another DBP, but I have to disappoint you." If you only knew, mister… "Instead you will be accompanying me on a trip to our second desert force in the Northern Dune Sea, a four hour ride from here." Wait, does that mean I have to sit for four hours in that box behind me? Four hours with my feet dangling out of the damned thing, dealing with my vertigo? What did I do to deserve this? DBP doesn't sound so bad all of a sudden.

"You have the singular honor of being my personal escort." I risk a glance at my squad mates, and I'm pretty sure that all of them were just barely supressing groans. Lieutenant Dernel is one of those arrogant young officers who think they are gods, and that enlistees should worship the ground they walk on. My mother would have hated him.

Dernel gives the order to mount up, and the squad climbs into the box. Before I can get in, he looks down at me disdainfully and says: "I just hope you live up to your famous name for once, Melara." Why does everyone think that being taller than me gives them the right to make me feel even shorter? And why does everyone think I need to be reminded of who my mother was? Permission to shoot you, sir?

Not dignifying his insulting remark with a comment, I climb into the box, trying to wedge myself between Xanas and Tarkker to get as far as possible from the open sides. Both guys give me a look that clearly says, "What the fuck are you doing?", but there's no time to complain. Trying not to let anything show, I take place beside Xanas and just barely withstand the temptation to close my eyes at the sudden gain in altitude, because another sign of weakness would be just the thing for the guys to have a little fun with. Dernel's stupid comment was enough aggravation for today.


Sand, sand, sand and even more sand. That's all I can see from my place at the side. Not that I'm not used to it by now, but it's still a very depressing sight, especially when you're not your usual cheerful self. And I'm definitely not.

Half an hour after take-off the guys became bored. So bored they finally forgot that they were all scared of me, and started teasing me again. Dernel preferred to go and harass the pilots in the cockpit, which left me and the guys. The first one to break the relative silence was Private Winters, a boy only a little taller than me, scrawny and still looking like a teenager. And with a nasty streak. "Say, Melara… I was really glad to hear that I'd be going on a mission with you. Because you know… I was hoping you could teach me some new tricks with my rifle." He laughed uproariously at his own joke, and a couple others joined in.

I tried to stare through him, pretending I hadn't heard his stupid comment, but then the Bothan joined him. "Yeah… or do you have any fancy nicknames for all of us? We could also think of one for you… like…maybe…" It was the Wookiee's turn then to roar. All the guys – apart from Xanas, which did surprise me – laughed a little viciously, and Tarkker then said: "That's a good one, At. She really behaves like one." At this point I became suspicious, additionally to feeling just plainly sick of them making fun of me. And I wasn't mistaken.

"I think we'll call you our queen. A Queen for a Year. Because, you know… you behave like one. You really behave like you've got every guy wrapped around your little finger. But it's only because you have tits, and that's something really rare here. It'll only last a year." They guffawed. It was then that I first thought I was in hell. Not only had they thought up a cheesy and stupid nickname, they had also thought up a totally unimaginative nickname.

I was about to answer, when suddenly Xanas spoke up. "Will you all just shut up? We're supposed to be on the same side, so treat her like an equal." That was just great. Really, exactly what I absolutely didn't need in that moment. It only made me look weaker, even if it wasn't what Xanas had intended with it.

In a rare display of the trademark Melara quick-wittedness, I shot them a look full of feminine disdain, and said to Xanas: "You know… they can keep on treating me like I'm not their equal if they want. I mean, who wants to be equal to them?" I swear that for one small moment, I saw a vicious little grin lighting up in his face, but instead of answering he chose to just nod and that was that. After that, the ride is little more than me and Xanas staring out over the endless rolling dunes, ignoring the assholes as they tease me.

And still… more sand. That is until the box suddenly rocks to the side, making Tarkker and Winters almost fall off. All of the men are swearing loudly, threatening the pilots with all sorts of violence for that move, but before either they or Dernel can react, the box rocks again. The engine is sputtering loudly, leaving a thick trail of black smoke behind us. And then everything goes to hell. Something in the back explodes, frying Winters, Tre'gar and Attittatlon. The ground is suddenly coming towards me at an alarmingly fast rate, and I feel someone pushing me out of the box. When I hit the ground, everything goes black.


A/N: At first: A big thanks to joustingforcancer, my beta-reader and co-author. A lot of things suddenly sound a lot better, every time he edits ;) And a second thing: The term "Queen for One Year" really exists, at least according to Kayla Williams' book "Love my rifle more than you: Young and Female in the U.S. Army", and it refers to "a) any American female stationed overseas in a predominately male military unit" and "b) a female soldier who becomes stuck-up during her deployment due to an exponential increase in male attention - used disparagingly" (quoted from the book). I just thought it very fitting, in a maybe weird sort of way. You'll see what I mean with that.

Oh, and feedback would be nice, too.