"It's only observation," I chanted to myself. "Just observation."
I released a tense sigh as I clasped a white pauldron onto my shoulder.
Completion of my week-long training in under twenty-four hours earned me an short nod from Major Sergeant Curtis. More importantly, it also earned me unlimited access to Starkiller Base. Before I got my hopes up for a day full of exploration, Captain Phasma commed me late in the evening.
"You'll be accompanying the intel team in the morning, 38. Consider this your first assignment, although I have informed them you are strictly on observation. Do not speak or act, only listen and follow. Report to hangar bay 11-B at 0700 tomorrow and ask for Corporal Bach."
Suffice it to say, I hadn't slept a wink.
I pulled my hair back as I glanced over my armor again. Red shoulder guard on the right, extra blaster clips on the left thigh, and a holster strapped to the right thigh. I shrugged and kicked my feet, making sure everything was snapped properly in place. After slipping on my helmet, I adjusted the sights to improve my field of view. Then I dropped my arms to my sides.
"Observation," I told my reflection.
A Stormtrooper face stared back at me.
The armory was en route to the hangars, but I still asked a droid to lead me there. I shivered with dread when I imagined getting lost and being late. The quartermaster gave me a standard-issue blaster for my holster and digital binoculars to strap on my belt. I felt pleasantly surprised when he saluted me.
I quickly realized that my uniform was a symbol of authority. Stormtroopers saluted me in the halls and officers nodded their respect as I passed. It was empowering, and a little addicting.
My stomach churned with nerves as I rode the speed lift to the hangar bay on level one.
My boots thudded as I hurried through the massive hangar bay in search of 11-B. After passing a row of TIE Fighters, I came upon the unmistakable folded wings of Kylo Ren's command shuttle. I double-checked that it was indeed docked at 11-B. I approached on wobbly legs, reminding myself that I had personally been chosen for this. An officer wearing a cap and several Stormtroopers stood near the loading ramp beneath the ship.
"Corporal," the officer called as I neared the ramp.
I recognized his face and voice immediately. My warden. I approached hesitantly.
"Are you...Sergeant Bach?"
"No, he's on board," he replied, his eyes inspecting my armor. "I'm Corporal Vegas."
It was impossible to tell whether or not he knew who I was. The scruff on his face was definitely out of regs. When I didn't respond, he made eye contact and narrowed his eyes.
"Um," I said. "Phasma sent me. On observation."
He unceremoniously swept his hand towards the ramp. "Then observe."
The enlisted Stormtrooper beside him chuckled at me.
My heart beat an erratic rhythm as I marched unsteadily up the ramp. I felt like I was somewhere I didn't belong. Attempting to comfort myself, I resumed my mental mantra: observation, observation, observation.
The bottom deck of the ship was gorgeous. A large viewport took up the rear wall, with a long conference table near it. Racks of gear and ammunition lined the white walls, which Stormtroopers were using to stock up their belts. The floor was polished black, so shiny that I could see my reflection. I climbed the shallow steps to the table, where another officer sat.
"Sergeant Bach?"
The middle-aged man turned halfway. "Caltrel?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah." He pushed out the chair beside him with a deadpan laugh. "Phasma told me you were coming."
I took a seat, feeling more out of place by the second. He wore the same uniform as Vegas, cap and all. Should I have worn that uniform? An amused smirk appeared on his face.
"So, what do you know about the intel team?"
"Next to nothing, sir," I admitted, leaning my elbow on the table. I quickly removed it. "There's not much information about it in the database."
He didn't seem surprised. "It's disconnected from the fleet. It only exists to support Kylo Ren's little escapades. Some beneficial, most superfluous."
I nodded, feeling a flutter in my stomach.
"There are two main intel officers," he said, holding up his fingers. "Me and Vegas. He's been assigned to Ren for over two years.
"What about you?"
He breathed out another laugh. "Two weeks. The one before me—two days."
My helmet hid the dismay that spilled onto my face. Judging by his bizarre demeanor in my interrogation, it was no wonder that he was difficult to work for. I started to question all of my choices up until that point.
"Ren is an immature brat who can't keep staff to save his life." Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "He has the Dark Side in him. He's dangerous."
"Bach," said a voice behind me.
Vegas came around and put his hand on the armrest of my seat, leaning down into his superior's face. His blue eyes were like daggers, but his voice was strangely gentle.
"Don't be an idiot."
Bach scoffed and turned his face away. "I'd rather be an idiot than a pet."
I turned around when I heard at least a dozen Stormtroopers snap to attention. I followed the line of their salutes to a figure ascending the ramp. The all-black ensemble was just as striking as the first time I saw it, and I felt my heart rate accelerate. I breathed through parted lips as I joined Vegas and Bach standing at attention. We stood in a row of three, awaiting his approach.
The polymer helmet separating me from him was like a miracle.
"Vegas, at ease," said the mechanical voice.
Bach and I stood as still as statues.
"Lord Ren," Bach began stiffly, his bravado completely gone. "This is Corporal Caltrel. Sent by Phasma on observation."
The mask turned to me, and my stomach clenched. I suspected that he knew who I was, but I couldn't be sure. I pulled my shoulders back and threw up a quick salute.
"Lord Ren," I chirped.
His gaze lingered for a moment. "Corporal," he said pleasantly. "Welcome."
I lowered my fist, feeling even more confused than before.
With everyone assembled in the large common area, Ren went over the plan for the upcoming mission. He issues coordinates to the pilots, instructions for the ship's crew, and preliminary orders for the ground team. I could barely comprehend a word he said, transfixed by the way he moved and spoke. He seemed like a mythical creature—inhuman.
When I heard my own name, I jolted where I stood.
"Caltrel and Vegas will accompany the ground team, with Bach"—Ren gestured in his direction—"on standby should the need arise. I don't expect it to."
My stomach dropped to the floor.
Bach sputtered momentarily. "Sir, she's only mean to—"
"Observe?" Ren interrupted, turning his faceless gaze on the officer. "That's precisely why I intend to give her a good view."
I swallowed hard.
Only listen and follow.
Ren vanished as the team dispersed. I soon felt the familiar pull of plasma thrusters maneuvering the ship out of the hangar bay. Standing by the large viewport, I watched as we ascended above the nondescript base in the dense forest and quickly entered the atmosphere. Stars eventually faded into view, and I resisted the urge to remove my helmet and drink in the beautiful view. Shortly after we left orbit, the ship's hyperdrive launched us into the blue kaleidoscope of hyperspace.
Someone eventually approached me from behind.
"I'll show you the officer deck," Vegas's voice said.
We stood on the cramped speed lift in silence. Everything on the shuttle, from the hallways to the speed lifts, was smaller than Starkiller. The comfortable feeling of artificial gravity and the silky smoothness of space travel made up for it.
"What did he tell you? Bach, I mean."
I stole a glance at Vegas. He was looking straight ahead, his hands folded in front of him. Unreadable.
"He told me that I'm not going to be around for very long," I said.
This drew his attention to me. Or it was the fact that the speed lift doors had opened, and I was still standing inside. I quickly followed him out into the hallway. He gestured to the locked doors as we passed them.
"Five officer's quarters. Ren's at the end of the hall. Enlisted are not allowed on this deck, which can get annoying on longer missions."
He waved his hand over one of the bioreaders and typed in an override code. The panel turned green, and I stepped forward to pass my hand over it. The computer accepted the input and verbalized my name and rank. When he continued down the hallway, I lingered at my door.
He glanced over his shoulder impatiently. "Come on."
I began to panic when I realized we were heading to Ren's quarters. My heart leaped into my throat, and I began to sweat under my helmet. As we stood in front of the door, I cleared my throat anxiously, the only outward sign that I was completely losing my mind.
Vegas's hand hovered over the door signal. And then he glanced at me.
"You're not here by accident, you know," he murmured.
Arrows of relief and dread shot through my chest. He knows who I am. Ren knows who I am. The confirmation both excited and unnerved me.
"What do you mean?" I hedged.
"Ren put in for you. Pissed Phasma off bad."
There was an edge of something in his voice that I struggled to identify. Annoyance? Jealousy?
"Just wanted you to know," he said, casually pressing the door signal.
