Author's Note: Many thanks to the wonderful spikala and her story, Redemption. I never quite looked at a communications officer the same way again, after meeting Russ. The slang used in this chapter is inspired by her story. Anyone looking for a good read and a new viewpoint should definitely check it out.

Stern

It was 2400, ship time; the chrono on the Stalwart's bridge gave three discreet chimes. Time for the shift change.

As the third watch filed into the bridge, Teller deliberately kept himself back. The lieutenant liked to remain in a quiet corner of the bridge, overseeing the formal change of the comm officers without being in the middle of it. It gave Teller the opportunity to study faces, pick out who from the previous shift looked worn out, anxious or annoyed. Those were generally good indications of trouble spots for his men - comm stations that were malfunctioning again, or particularly busy chatter coming from specific sectors. As Blazer Corps' flagship, Stalwart was at the heart of the incoming and outgoing communications, even if it was as trivial as one of the auxiliaries requesting more air fresheners for their 'fresher stations. Nothing happened in Blazer without the Stalwart's comm watch knowing about it first.

It was also a good spot to have a private update between the two shift commanders.

"Lieutenant."

Teller turned towards his fellow officer, one Lieutenant Keys, a reliable man from the Attack Dogs Company.

"Lieutenant," Teller answered in turn and the two men saluted one another. "Status on the comms?"

"Regular traffic so far." Keys handed him a datapad and Teller quickly scanned the log of messages.

"Heavy activity from grid R-6," Teller noted, seeing over twenty squawks and more than half a dozen feeds originating from those coordinates, most earmarked as urgent and restricted - for the command staff's eyes only.

Keys shrugged. For reasons of his own, he'd shaved his scalp bald, except for a single ring of dark hair running just above his ears. The bridge lights shimmered over his ship-tan. "It's Felucia. When they say it's hot, they don't mean the climate." Then his brown eyes cut to the side and he confidentially leaned in closer to Teller. "But between you and me, this much activity can only mean one thing."

Teller's own eyes lit up. "You think we're bound for Felucia next?"

Keys shrugged a second time, but the confident look in his eyes belied the non-committal attitude. "Fleet HQ is always on the lookout for more bodies to throw at that warra nut." At this, both officers checked to make sure they were still unobserved. Keys' observation wasn't sedition, exactly, and not even precisely critical, but even the vague undertones of such an observation made men who'd grown up under the watchful eyes of the Kaminoans nervous.

To bridge the awkwardness of the moment, Teller cleared his throat and hastily signed his number under the current shift log, making the transfer of duties official.

"Let's keep those kinds of speculations under our buckets for now."

Keys snorted. "Like you've got to remind me." Saluting once more, the two finished the shift change and Keys wrangled up his men with all the ease of a practiced nerf-herder.

Settling the headset more comfortably around his brow, Teller took his station at the head of the comm center.

More than three hours into the shift and Teller was starting to notice that AJ - short for anti-jam, for the man's useful talent of unjamming almost any signal or channel - was fiddling far more with his instruments than should have been necessary. Looking at his own switchboard, Teller confirmed what he already knew. There was nothing on the relays, neither outbound or incoming, that would require such fierce concentration from the private.

Nonetheless, Teller waited another four minutes before investigating the matter.

AJ was a good man to have on the comms, especially in a crisis, as he'd learned to tune out whatever was going seriously FUBAR and concentrate on his task. Additionally, AJ was one of Blazer's vets - Stalwart was his fourth posting in two years - and for that alone, Teller would have let the man deal with whatever problem he was currently trying to fix. But AJ also had the bad habit of waiting too long to ask his brothers for help and the lieutenant wasn't about to sit around while one of his comm stations was threatening to blow its circuits.

Making his way past the other seated comm officers, Teller cast a surreptitious glance at every man's screen, more out of habit than an actual need to oversee his shift's work.

As was his preference, AJ had taken the farthest console, way to the back of the comm center and half-hidden in the low lighting of the bridge pit.

The trooper didn't notice his lieutenant's presence until Teller carefully touched his shoulder. At this, AJ jumped out of his seat to stand at attention, a momentary flicker of guilt crossing his face before he managed to compose himself.

Teller narrowed his eyes.

"There a problem, Private?" he asked, keeping his voice low, so as not to draw attention and distract the bridge crew. Above the pit where the comm center and targeting computers were lodged, the rest of the third shift prowled restlessly under the eyes of Brunt, Tessek Company's commander. The man was no martinet, but that didn't mean he liked irregularities. Sergeant Basil could testify to that. When he wasn't treating patients, the medic was in a perpetual state of scrubbing some part of the ship with a very tiny brush.

AJ was completely in control of himself again and didn't so much as bat an eye when he said: "No, sir. Everything's one-hundred percent."

"Is that why you've rerouted power to your console twice this shift? And keep trying to buffer an audio feed from a non-com station?" Teller wondered when the men would start realizing that they couldn't sneak things past him. Without waiting for a reply, the lieutenant grabbed AJ's headset, pulling the other trooper toward him until they were close enough for their chests to touch and bent his ear to the private's mic.

The channel was filled with static, but the words managed to filter through, loud and clear.

"...Hanarist has the ball and look at Team Alderaan go! They're leaving Bylluran Athletic in the dust! And Hanarist points! Goal! Another great shot from Cael Hanarist, Alderaan's fastest..."

Teller let the mic snap back; AJ winced, but refrained from moving otherwise.

"New Sep code?" Teller asked sarcastically. "Or did we move the war to the bolo-ball fields?"

The private had the good grace to look abashed, scratching the back of his head as he tried to find a way out of a reprimand. Finally, AJ decided to stick with the truth.

"Got some creds riding on the outcome of the game," he admitted. "Private Haynes on the Horizon bet me three creds, against Alderaan."

Teller shot a look up at the bridge's main walkway, but Commander Brunt was up at the helm, in deep discussion with navigation. Pursing his lips, the lieutenant pointed a stern finger back at AJ's duty station.

"Your financial concerns will have to wait until 0800, trooper, when you are dismissed from duty. Clear?" The question, coming from a communications officer, was a bit absurd, but AJ merely nodded and sank back into his chair. Teller watched him switch channels, before taking his leave.

Just before returning to his station, Teller added, for the private's ears only: "Put me down for three creds as well, on Team Alderaan. If Haynes thinks Bylluran can beat Hanarist, then he's short a few relays."

Diplomatically, AJ stifled his snicker. "Copy that, sir."