“Something about them,” Dav said, looking at the One Flight group, “something just not quite right to me.”
“They...they all look the same,” Bondo said, the words coming in a halting cadence, as if he were constantly checking them in his head before he spoke them. “They’re...all about the same...height and build, and they all have...blond, or black hair. Maybe one redhead or two. No...girls. And in our flight, we’re all different. Slak is skinny, you’re trim. Jada’s a girl, I’m big, Norrin is...is...” Bondo looked around for the small fellow who’d been stuck beside him during the morning abuse.
Dav looked around. “Yeah, “Where’d the shromp go?”
#
Norrin had already slipped away from the lineup to get chow in the meal room. The food was better than when he was with the apemen over in basic for the last few months, but still nowhere near as good as he was used to getting at home or at his old school.
The upside to being new was that he could always claim the innocence of being ‘lost’ if he was found in a place he shouldn’t be. Right now, his goal was to find the location of a computer or datapad that had access to some of the mid-level networks. If he could find that, he might be able to get some better food programmed for himself at mealtime. Or maybe keep his lights on after lights out. Or maybe...
Well, find one thing at a time.
First thing was to find an empty console and a bit of spare time to hack it with.
Norrin could usually tell if a place had the kind of computerized power he was looking for. The ultimate holy star of his search, for example, would have been unmanned rows of consoles lining either side of the command chair of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Those happy pieces had the computerized muscle to tap into any computer, datapad or wrist pad on either the Star Destroyer itself or even the planet below. The thought of having that kind of ability to wreak havoc or influence made Norrin’s mouth dry, and his stomach do a happy little flip-flop.
But, he had to remind himself He wasn’t on a real Star Destroyer now. The Adeptus was decommissioned, good only at play-acting like something with real power backing it up. He was in another school, and he and the other students didn’t even know what planet they were on. Secrecy and security were paramount, and while he knew his connections to Vere didn’t make him immune from all consequences of his actions, he felt confident that if he were caught in the act of a little data-based espionage he wouldn’t have to worry about much more than push-ups and laps. He’d heard about worse, but he’d only been here for less than a day.
He checked his wristpad. Mealtime had a good ten or so minutes to go yet.
A thump got his attention.
He turned to look- there was a small droid, an R2 class unit trying to reach something with its extender arms and by indexing its feet, trying to get inches up off of the ground in an effort to reach something on a shelf above it.
“Hm,” Norrin said, walking over.
The R2 unit was raising and dropping itself again and again, its skeletal metal arms raising and dropping over and over again, trying to grab a container of some kind from a shelf. Norrin kept watching as the R2 unit spent a very long minute trying to reach its goal.
The local regulations on Imperial base (or, in this case, school) kept any droid from using ‘excessive functions’ like foot jets indoors. But still, the little fellow had been given a task that it really could not complete, and likely been given it emphatically enough that it would be stuck trying for hours or even days trying to complete the work.
Norrin had seen it before- it was the techie equivalent of tying a tin can to a dog’s tail, a trick designed to make the thing run until it either tired itself to exhaustion on dry batteries or ran itself to death.
“Losers,” said Norrin, reaching up and getting the can of lube for the R2 unit.
The R2 squealed with apparent delight, chirping and whooting once it had its quarry firmly in its mechanical claw.
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“All right all right, no need to get all crazy. I just hate seeing tech misused. What’s your name anyway...”
The R2 unit was painted primarily black with white trim. It’s single large, dark colored eye regarded Norrin steadily while its hydraulic motors made it bounce and jump slightly in appreciation for the help Norrin had given it.
“Well, okay...” Norrin scanned its ID chip with his wristpad-he’d already rigged it on the transport on the way over.
Its name came up as RX-D5.
“Okay, little- you mind if I call you Rex? Okay, Rex, you go and enjoy your-“
The droid had already dropped its third foot to the ground and begun wheeling away.
“Well, okay...your welcome.” Norrin looked at his wristpad. Mealtime was almost done. He was good, but not good enough he could tap the system and give him extra time. He wasn’t hungry, and typically didn’t get so until later at night. But he already had an arrangement to take care of that, if need be.
Now, time to head back. Wouldn’t do to get on anyone’s negative attention this early in training.
“Gotta wonder why they want us doing sports so soon after we finish eating,” Dav grumbled at the bench as he hung his tunic and dress pants neatly in the locker. He’d already traded his uniform and changed into the regulation white shirt and dark shorts they’d been issued.
“Prob’ly because we’re soldiers,” said Bondo, his head nearly grazing the locker room ceiling, “and they gotta make us able t’move right away, if we gotta.”
“You guys have a good time,” Slak said. “I’m gonna do my own sports.”
Dav looked at Slak. The Corellian hadn’t bothered to change into athletic gear. He was still in the full dress uniform he’d entered the change room with, but he’d unbuttoned the tunic.
“You sure you’re allowed to go around like that?” Dav asked. “You’ve already gotten into trouble once today.”
“Hey,” Slak said, wincing, “we were told to wear our uniforms with pride. When we wanna loosen up, we can loosen the tunic a bit, too. No one said how we couldn’t wear ‘em when we’re doing sports.”
“Slak,” said Dav, “I don’t want to be annoying, but we’re supposed to go down to the arena, pick a sport and get proficient at it. Walking around with your tunic instead of your sport uniform is asking for trouble. Walking around with your tunic unbuttoned instead of having it look trim is asking for the wrath of Hublin and Solo to fall on us. I’d thought you’d had enough of that for one day.”
Slak thought for a second, then ruefully began removing his tunic and dress-pants, replacing them with the same white, short-sleeved shirt and dark running shorts that the other cadets in the change room were wearing.
“Better choice, Slak,” Dav said, smiling.
“Shaddap,” Slak grumbled. “After Hublin got me by surprise, I’ve just got no energy to knock you down myself. Easier to change, then have my fun later.”
Dav shrugged, and left behind Bondo. The three of them walked down the dark hallway towards the sounds of yelling, bouncing, scraping and rubber-soled athletic shoes squeaking against hard floors.
“What do they play here, anyway?” Slak asked.
“Dunno,” Dav said. “But it looks like...
They rounded the last corner, and through the open doorway. Before them was a huge hangar bay that had been converted into a sport arena, large enough for no fewer than four team-field competitions to be taking place simultaneously, and numerous individual and small-group sporting competitions taking place all at once.
“This is incredible,” Dav said. “Every cadet on the Adeptus must be here.”
Slak alone looked unimpressed. “Hardly a girl around, and no way to make money. What kind of army is this?”
Bondo wasn’t listening. He saw a group of cadets in competition for lifting weights, and made for it at a brisk walk.
“Daggart!” screamed a voice in Slak’s ear. Slak snapped to attention, recognizing the voice instantly. “Yes, Lieutenant Solo!” he barked as Dav tried to drift away without attracting attention.
“Daggart, I told you I’d be keeping an eye on you. You will become the fittest member of Four Flight! Do you know why, Daggart?
“Why, sir?”
“Because I’m going to personally supervise your fitness regimen myself! Understand, Daggart? I’ll be watching you and all the choices you make when you’re down here. And if you mess the tiniest bit, I’ll be on you like a bad smell on a wookie! Understand?”
“Yes, Sir!”
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TO BE CONTINUED...