Ensign Freya Thorne was truly nervous as she stepped off of the transport into the docking bay of the ISD Accuser. Her green eyes darted about as she took in her new surroundings. Academy had been tough, both psychologically and physically, not to mention being a culture shock to the young woman from the Outer Rim. The stern discipline and observance of rules, some contradictory to others, it was enough to make anyone feel disoriented. Now, being on a military ship larger than any city on her home world was intimidating beyond words. Thorne pulled on her grey-green uniform tunic, adjusting everything.
Belt…straight…buckle centered…boots shined…rank insignia polished…
She finally reached back and felt with a gloved hand to see if her thigh-length, curly red hair was tied securely in a queue. At least the Imperial Military had been gracious enough to allow her to keep a few remnants of her world's culture. 'If I'd gone home on leave with my hair chopped, my folks would all be demanding to know who I married.' She thought to herself.
"Ensign…Thorne?" A lieutenant in a black uniform inquired, holding a datapad. Thorne spun about, and seeing the four squares on his chest, came to a rigid salute.
"Yessir!" She half-shouted. The lieutenant threw a half-hearted salute in return.
"At ease, Thorne. I'm a supply officer. We're not even in the same chain of command. I just needed your signature so I could hand over your luggage."
"Oh. Yes…a'right sir." She said, and signed the datapad with its stylus. The lieutenant pulled two large bags from a hover cart nearby, double-checking the ID strips with a scanner. He deposited them at her feet.
"There you go, Ensign. You need help in getting these to your quarters, we have stewards that can assist."
"I…I'm sure I can manage sir." Thorne replied with a twitch of a smile, trying hard to mask her accent as much as possible. She had learned in academy that if anything about her attracted negative attention, it was her thick accent and use of slang from her planet, something she'd worked hard to correct over the past two years.
"Very well then." The supply officer nodded. "Welcome aboard The Accuser, Ensign. Enjoy your stay." He said the last part somewhat too evilly for the nineteen-year-old junior officer's taste.
"Thank ye, sir." She said, and looked around like a lost child. "Um…"
"Elevators are two-hundred meters that way. Go to in-processing, level 16. Need directions…try to find someone in a uniform." The Lieutenant stated with a wry grin.
"Oh. Okay then. Tank ye fer your help, sir."
"Anytime…" The lieutenant replied nonchalantly, going back to the long list of passengers and baggage on his pad. "I live to serve…" Thorne picked up her two bags, each more than half the size of her tall and lithe five-foot eleven-inch frame, and walked toward the lifts. Fortunately, the bags weren't too bulky, containing only the vital necessities. She went over the contents in her mind as she walked; her spare uniform and gloves, socks, data pad, wind/sand/snow goggles, the skirt and boots she had been cleared to wear on a cultural exemption, except on full-dress and formal occasions, and her transcripts from academy. There were a few books, namely the Imperial Officer's Field Manual, Imperial Navy Rules and Regulations, and Military Tactics for Small Units. She had brought her toiletries and hairbrushes, of course, as well as a large satchel of dried flowers and herbs from her home world of Breoh'Lar. This was among her prized personal possessions, which also included her large book of legends, a sectional durasteel fighting staff, her Breohan boots and a tin of tea, with another of honey.
Ensign Thorne stepped into the turbolift and pressed the button for the 16th level. A few seconds later, she was exiting the elevator carriage, and looking around the long hall for her destination. A small group of officers walked past, and Thorne dropped her bags and came to attention.
"Sir?" She spoke, but the officers simply walked past without any sign they had even noticed her standing there. She picked up her bags and walked further down the hall. A commander approached, and she again dropped her bags and came to attention. "Sir…" She began.
"Ensign." The officer muttered with a salute in passing, and continued on his way. This was repeated with a security officer in a black uniform soon after. Thorne was almost beginning to feel like she didn't exist, when an officer came walking up the hall towards her. His arms were folded behind him, and he had the gait, bearing and expression of someone who was very unhappily about to do something terrible. Thorne stepped aside, dropped her bags, and saluted the officer, a captain.
"Sir?" The officer came to a dead stop and clicked his heels together, turning towards her. He cocked an eyebrow up.
"Yes, Ensign?" He answered. Captain Tharcourt looked at the young woman, expecting an answer. Thorne gave a nervous smile, intimidated by the black-haired officer. It felt like he was staring a hole in her. In truth, Tharcourt was confused at being hailed by some unknown Ensign, who looked fresh out of adolescence, and about as out-of-place as air in space. He could see the faintest trace of nervous sweat beginning to bead on her freckled face. Ah yes, those formative and awkward Ensign years…
"I'm a bit lost an' needin' directions, sir…if ye don't terribly min' sir." She squeaked in a strange accent. Tharcourt relaxed his posture. Thorne slowly and carefully dropped her salute
"Don't know. I'm new here myself. What are you looking for, Ensign?" He asked.
"In-Processing?" She replied, making it sound more like a question.
"Oh…yes, I passed that back that way." He said, gesturing further up the hall. "Up there a ways, to the right. You can't miss it. They have a sign, in fact."
"Right. Thank you, sir." The young woman chirped, and saluted again. Tharcourt returned the salute and continued on his way.
"Poor girl…" He muttered as he stormed down the hall like he owned the ship.
Ensign Thorne finally reached the desk she had been searching for. At the console sat a captain in his late thirties with a jaded expression, who looked up at the young junior officer with a look that said 'hurry up and get to the point'.
"Ensign Freya Thorne reporting for duty as ordered." Thorne stated with a rigid posture, and a firm salute, her eyes fixed in the distance.
"Not to me you aren't, Ensign." The Captain stated, typing away on his console. "You are…to report to a…Commander Raliss on Level 22. You have your issued kit, Ensign?"
"Yes sir." Thorne answered. The officer drew a code cylinder from a box, plugged it into a port on the console and hit a button. There was a short whirring sound, followed by a beep, and he withdrew the silver cylinder and handed it to Thorne.
"Your code cylinder. It is to be worn at all times. Starting…now." Ensign Thorne quickly clipped the device into her left shoulder pocket. "Your hair isn't reg. It's too long. Utilize the officer's barber station on Level 18."
"I…I'm allowed t' keep it, sir." She replied. The captain looked up at her with disdain. "It t'was allowed on…a cult'ral…ex'amshin'…'ting…" Her cheeks felt hot as she realized she'd allowed her accent to return. The processing officer stared at her with a disgusted snarl for a moment.
"Hm. Silly rule, wouldn't you agree?" The officer mused. "Right then, here is a docket containing times of officer's mess and the locations of mess halls, sick bay, supply and requisition and escape pods. Though all of this is at the leisure of your commanding officer. Any weapons to declare?"
"Um…just my sectional staff, sir." He raised an eyebrow and sighed. He typed on the console.
"Authorized hand-to-hand weapon. Very well. Junior officers may carry a blaster pistol in a regulation holster at their discretion. Most do not. All other authorized weapons must be kept inside your quarters unless traveling to or from training areas on-ship, or with written authorization from commanding officer. Understood, Ensign?"
"Yes sir."
"Very well. You have your orders. Report to Captain Raliss. Level 22. Take a right when you get off the lift, and it will be the tenth set of doors on the left."
"Thank you, sir." With that, Ensign Freya Thorne collected her effects and made her way to the next set of turbo lifts. Getting off on Level 22, as it was marked on the bulkhead, she made her way to the doors described by the In-Processing officer. She dropped her bags and once again straightened her uniform, belt and hair.
"Okay…" Thorne whispered to herself. "First day o' the rest o' me life, right?" She put on a brave smile and used her cylinder to gain access to the door, the sliding hatch whooshing open before her. Thorne picked up her bags and entered the room. Inside was a sitting area and a water dispenser. Beyond was an office area with two desks. Behind one, working intently on a console, was a man in a lieutenant's uniform with auburn hair. At the desk at the back of the room was a woman in her early forties with bobbed blonde hair. Thorne noticed two things immediately; the female officer was wearing captain's insignia, and the captain was staring coldly at her with a pair of ice-blue eyes.
"Can I help you?" The captain asked almost snidely. Thorne remembered herself, and clicked her heels together, coming to a regulation salute for the fiftieth time today.
"Yes ma'am." She barked smartly. "Ensign Freya Thorne reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am." The captain stood from her desk, and slowly approached Thorne. The young ensign stood at salute as she was trained.
"Yes…I am Captain Raliss…" The officer said in a cruel, purring tone. She passed by Thorne, and began walking slowly around her, reminding the young woman of a predatory animal. The captain noticed Thorne's bags, and kicked one of them. "Why did you not take your belongings to your quarters, Ensign?"
"I was not told where my quarters would be, ma'am." Thorne answered. "I would have…"
"As expected, you are ignorant of protocol on board an Imperial vessel." Captain Raliss stated. "That much will be remedied…don't worry."
"Yes ma'am." Thorne said, already starting to feel very nervous. This was like academy all over again.
"As stated in your orders, you will be my new Ensign, at least for the time being, Miss Thorne. And I expect my subordinates to be nothing short of disciplined, hardworking, and…obeisant. Am I understood, Ensign?"
"Yes ma'arm." Thorne answered. She started to relax her salute.
"Stand at attention until ordered otherwise!" Captain Raliss shouted. Thorne regained her rigid posture, the tip of her index finger touching the brim of her uniform cap, but trembling slightly. Her commanding officer continued. "That is the problem with you new Ensigns. You all lack discipline." She stopped and stood stolidly, her gaze locked onto the side of Thorne's face. "Do you lack discipline, Miss Thorne?"
"N…No ma'am!" Thorne answered shakily.
"No ma'am what?"
"Neu I doon't lack discipline, ma'am!"
"Lying shows a lack of respect for one's betters. Do you lack respect, Thorne?"
"Neu ma'am." Thorne answered. She felt like she was being interrogated by her new superior, and Thorne fought against the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. She felt hot and knew she was probably red in the face. She wanted this to be over.
"Where are you from, Ensign Thorne?"
"I'm froom Breoh'Lar, Outer Rim, ma'am."
"I've never heard of it." Raliss stated. "Is that where you acquired that silly accent, Ensign?" It was then that Freya realized that she hadn't been covering her native accent, and she mentally berated herself for it. The captain reiterated, "I asked if everyone on your backwards, Wild-Space planet speaks with that stupid accent, Ensign!"
"Yes ma'am."
"Work on it."
"Yes, I will, ma'am." Thorne squeaked.
"Good, now that we have that out of the way…" Raliss said in a low tone. "What is this hair, Ensign?"
"Um…I…"
"Did you forget how to speak, ensign?" Raliss asked mockingly.
"No, ma'am." Thorne answered. "I am alooed t' keep my hair loong be…because of a cultural exemption, ma'am."
"Interesting." Raliss stated. "What is the relevance of this…" She scoffed "…rat's nest?"
"My people grow their hair…without cutting it until they take a hoosband er wife, ma'am." The Ensign explained.
"That is absolutely ridiculous." Raliss countered. "And the Empire is allowing this?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Hum. Anything else they let you get away with, since you're so special, Ensign?"
"Just…" Thorne felt cornered. She realized what was going on. The captain was drawing answers from Thorne, and then using them against her. She knew she couldn't lie, but at the same time, she realized that it was obvious that Raliss hated everything about her. She was caught in a trap, and had to play along. "I am also allowed small breeches of uniform regulation ma'am."
"Oh really?" Rallis quipped. "And what sort of breeches are those?"
"Oh…ma'am…merely."
"Show me."
"I'm sorry ma'am?" Thorne asked, confused.
"I said show me. If you are going to get away with dressing foolish, with a supernova hanging off the back of your empty head, I want to see the whole 'Ensign Thorne' uniform. The most…unregulation things you have. That is an order. Now go change at once."
"Yes ma'am." Freya whimpered. She dropped her salute, and quickly grabbed her bags. She stopped at the door and nervously turned back to her new commanding officer. "Ensign would like to ask the location of her quarters, Ma'am." Captain Rallis smirked.
"Directly across the hall."
Freya quickly entered her room and closed the door behind her. Finally alone, she let herself cry. She stumbled into the refresher and grabbed the small sink basin to steady herself, sobbing. This day was the worst she'd had since leaving home. She almost wished she hadn't. She was on a ship that might as well be it's own planet, and so far everyone had either acted like she was invisible or treated her like a fungus. Except for that one officer, but she was convinced by his attitude that he had allowed himself to be inconvenienced by her because he was on his way to murder some prisoner or something. Now, she had to change into 'the most un-regulation clothing' she owned. She had been permitted to wear some of these items because they were a source of her people's pride and heritage. Now, she knew that it was going to be used for mockery and humiliation. She sobbed harder, until she caught her reflection in the mirror.
"Stop, Freya…" She ordered herself. "Pull yerself t'gether." She forced herself to breathe normally. "Do yer job. If this part of it is bad, it'll get better." That's how she had gotten through the bullying and the overbearing discipline in academy; she knew it would soon be over, and she would be an officer in the Imperial Navy. Now, she knew that she just had to keep it together through being an ensign. Once she got promoted, things would be different. Maybe better. Maybe worse. That was a strangling feeling. What if things just got worse?
"Then get it over with…" She muttered, turning back into her room. She had orders, and she was going to follow them. She opened her bag containing her clothing, and drew out a small bundle of gray-green gaberdine fabric. She also pulled out two pair of boots, and looked between them. One was a pair much like her uniform boots, but with openings at the toe and heel. The other was merely soles with long straps of synthleather attached. Small things can mean so much…
Breoh'Lar was a little-known planet in the outer rim, on the very border of wildspace. Nobody there knew exactly when the world had been settled, but it had supposedly been around twenty five hundred to three thousand years earlier. The first pilgrims had found a world of green meadows, rocky coastlines jutting into a massive ocean, lush forests and swampy moors. They had apparently liked what they had seen, for they built civilization up around the natural features of the land, much like the people of Alderaan had done, instead of urbanizing the planet like Courscant or Corellia.
A people of contradiction, they stayed very close to nature, but they had technology. Ships and speeders, droids and computers, all bought with the abundant resources of the planet then reverse engineered so that they could produce their own goods. Farming and mining were the chief occupations on Breoh-Lar, and most of the end product was kept on-world, the occasional surplus being sold to neighboring worlds like Utapau and Karideph. The roads of the cities were often well-kept packed-earth or stonework, and the Breohans, even the wealthier ones, would often go barefoot or wear the sparest of footwear. Their clothes were loose-fitting and comfortable, men and women often wearing skirts dyed in the color or colors of their respective families.
Children, both boys and girls, were brought up to be warriors. They were taught from an early age to wrestle, and to use polearms, knives and axes. If they chose to become part of the planet's defense force at a later age, they would be taught to use blaster rifles, and to fight as a unit. This is the path Freya had chosen, and at sixteen, when an Imperial envoy had arrived on Breoh'Lar, she had been enthralled with the military machine called "The Galactic Empire". Freya had practically begged her parents to allow her to return with the Imperials to attend this 'Academy' the Imperial soldiers had spoken of, where boys and girls from all over the galaxy could go and become great warriors and heroes of the Empire. Warriors and Heroes…two things Breoh'Lar loved most, just below their cultural heritage.
So, a tall, freckle-faced teenage girl from the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim had ended up on Coruscant, standing in front of the Imperial Academy in what amounted to an immodest blue and black skirt, coarse linen shirt, knee-high sandals, and no idea where she was or what she was supposed to be doing. At least she had a small satchel of credits and an endorsement from some Imperial officer that she had some military training.
Now, Freya looked at herself in the mirror. She had traded her uncomfortable and heavy boots for the Breohan sandals, and her constricting trousers for a slightly above the knee-length skirt made of the same material as her uniform tunic. It was part of the regulations; she now served the Galactic Empire with all her heart and soul. Her skirt, which showed the colors and patterns of her alliances, would be Imperial grey, a testament to her loyalty. It was explained to her that the allowance had been created for a similar race who had graciously sworn their allegiance to Emperor Palpatine. She was told that these people, the Mandolorians, held their armor sacred, and it was passed down from generation to generation, and they could not give it up. So the Empire, who always tried to consider the needs of its people, had allowed them to retain their armor, if they only painted it in Imperial colors to show their solidarity with the government. Freya had. She had sworn her loyalty to the Empire, and now she worked up the courage to prove herself worthy of being a part of it. To represent her people as capable and strong.
"Alright." She said, and heaved a sigh. "I'll try this again…" Freya puffed out her chest, and marched confidently across the hall and into her commander's office. The lieutenant at the console looked up, and his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. Captain Rallis stood from her desk, placed her arms behind her back, and gave a smug grin. Thorne pirouetted to the right, snapped her heels together, and gave a crisp salute.
"Ensign Freya Thorne reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am!" She called in a clear and confident tone. Again, captain Rallis did not return the salute, and Freya immediately caught on. She would have to stand at 'salute' for an undetermined amount of time. She felt ready this time though.
"There. Now don't you feel absolutely ridiculous in that idiotic outfit, Ensign?" Rallis asked.
"No, ma'am!" Thorne answered quickly. "I was raised in similar clothes, so it doesn't feel ridiculous at all, ma'am. But if the commanding officer wishes the ensign to feel ridiculous, the ensign will do her utmost to try. I am ready to serve the Empire in any way, and will carry out my duties to the best of my abilities, ma'am." It was rebellious. It was stupid, and Freya knew it. Captain Rallis narrowed her blue eyes a moment.
"Indeed. We shall see." Rallis muttered. "You start at 0900 tomorrow. I highly suggest you learn the layout of the ship until then."
"Yes ma'am." Thorne returned. Captain Rallis returned the salute. Thorne fell to 'at ease'.
"And Ensign…you are to wear that trampy outfit until I say otherwise. Preferably with something that resembles boots when you return to my office. We'll see how long you wish to continue to do so."
"Understood, ma'am."
"Dismissed." With that, Freya strode from the office, confident that she had simultaneously won her first battle with a superior, and also knowing that she was going to pay dearly for her victory. The door closed and Captain Rallis cast a glance at her adjutant, still staring lustfully as the young Ensign exited the room. "And you." She chided. "Get your tongue back in your mouth, Drier. I may not be benign enough to overlook your behavior again."
"Sorry ma'am." Drier said.
"She'll learn her place." Rallis stated. "Though why we keep getting sent this Wild Space trash is beyond me. Nothing outside the Mid-Rim resembles a functional being. Barely human. Anyhow, what's on my schedule for this evening?" Drier looked over a datapad on his desk.
"Holovid from ISB in twenty minutes…you have that meeting with Major Ferris regarding prison security at thirteen-hundred, and a high-level prisoner interrogation at fourteen-hundred."
"Oh good." Rallis said diabolically. "And I thought this was going to be a boring day."
And so with chapter 3, you got to meet a couple of new characters. The story has just now begun to progress, and poor Thorne is having the worst first day at work ever. Maybe it'll get better for her, eh?
I do want to clarify for some of you who were wondering; The opening scene takes place a little while after this. Right now in the SW timeline, we're a little before Rogue One, so we're not in the realm of the OT yet. That's the best I can do without giving spoilers.
I will make every attempt to get the next chapter up tomorrow, if not later tonight. I have a trip coming up this weekend, and I'd like to get at lease a few chapters up on here for everyone to enjoy. So until next time, keep all frequencies tuned into this station, and please leave your questions and comments. Cheers! -Drake