I spotted yesterday's cadet officers—the ones Dagon had "captured." Last time, I hadn't had a proper look at them; other matters had occupied my circuits. Now, though… what can I say? Quite a colorful group. Two second lieutenants, two midshipmen—two young men, two ladies. Force help me, standing next to these energetic individuals was… a lot.
"General, the group of junior officers transferred to your command has arrived for further instructions!" the second lieutenant announced, saluting crisply.
The four stood at attention, eyes straight ahead, every inch according to regulation.
"At ease," I said, waving a hand. "Your personal files?"
"They're here!" The lieutenant handed me her identification cylinder. The others followed suit.
They were probably wondering why they were working for a droid. They didn't know Dagon had already left for the battlefield.
Those cylinders were fascinating devices—a hybrid between a flash drive and a mini-computer. They stored personal data, service records, access codes, technical documentation, reports, rosters, even personal notes—as long as they contained classified information.
I didn't have one yet—not surprising, given my current status… ambiguous. I didn't fit neatly into the hierarchy. Things were simpler with Ahsoka; my own rank could be interpreted several ways. General, admiral, jack of all trades. With a solid argument, I could even temporarily place an entire sector army under my command.
Later, if I recalled correctly, around the middle of the war, the Jedi rank structure was reorganized: Jedi General, Senior General, Supreme General. The latter were Council members only; the former commanded sector armies alongside the Moffs.
I took the datapad from my belt and loaded the files. Nothing secret yet—just personnel profiles. Immersed in reading, I lost track of time for about ten minutes. The local "paperwork artists" had perfected their craft. I half-understood the bureaucratic jargon but got the gist. Not prodigies—but not failures, either. Paperwork was one thing; people were another.
Ahsoka appeared beside me.
"Good morning, Ethan!" she greeted cheerfully.
"Good morning, Ahsoka," I replied. Lucky her—she'd managed a few hours of sleep while I'd been running simulations.
"Hi, Grace! Hi, guys!" Snips was already in her element.
O'Connor—the Zeltron—glanced my way. "Good morning, Commander Tano."
Ahsoka blinked. Few people ever addressed her by rank.
"What's the matter, Grace?" she asked quietly.
I pretended to be absorbed in the datapad, but my sensors picked up their muffled conversation perfectly.
"Well, the General's here," Grace whispered. "According to regulations, I…" She nodded toward me.
"Wow, it took a whole General to remind you of the regs," Chris murmured with a grin.
"All right," I cut in before their chatter went further. Time was short. I looked over the group. "Let's see what you're capable of. Tell me—what do you prefer?"
"Um… General, what do you mean?" the pale-faced one asked.
"What specialty do you prefer?" I clarified.
The redhead—Li Noriega—exchanged glances with the others. "Midshipman Mirro is well-versed in communications and electronic warfare. Second Lieutenant Cerri and Midshipman O'Connor specialize in ship control."
"And you, Lieutenant?" I asked.
"I… um… I'm pretty good at operational planning," she said, slightly flustered.
Their unease was palpable in the Force—no one had ever spoken to them like that before.
"Not bad. Not bad at all." I paused, considering. Interesting possibilities.
"All right. Report to the bridge under Captain Ragnos's supervision. He'll assign you as needed—access codes, tactical data, the works."
"May we go?" Li Noriega asked.
"Go ahead." I nodded. They saluted smartly and headed out.
---
On the bridge, Ntor Ragnos was listening to a clone operator's report when the four junior officers arrived. One of them, a second lieutenant, saluted sharply.
"Captain Ragnos, in accordance with General Vikt's orders, we are reporting for duty!"
"Excellent. Identification cylinders," the captain said, holding out his hand.
After a brief scan, he addressed them.
"All right, officers. You're beginning your service aboard this ship. Second Lieutenant Cerri and Ensign O'Connor, you are my deputies. Ensign Mirro, Section C-3—Reconnaissance and Communications. Your superior is Clone Lieutenant KK-3489L. Lieutenant Li Noriega, Section Q-2—Operational Planning."
"Sir, who will be my commanding officer?" Noriega asked.
"No one," Ragnos replied evenly. "The department doesn't exist yet—you'll have to organize and lead it yourself."
Zabrak handed the young officers their identification cylinders.
"And I suggest you prepare yourselves," the captain added firmly. "In a few hours, we'll be heading into battle."
---
I watched Ahsoka wandering the bridge, her tail swishing with nervous energy. I decided to probe a little.
"So," I said, in my usual monotone-but-sarcastic style, "ever flown a Delta-7 before?"
She spun around. "A little," she admitted. "Why?"
"Because your reflexes are impressive, but if you don't coordinate vectoring with your astromech, you'll get eaten alive in a dogfight. And those missiles won't wait for you to get your bearings."
Ahsoka's ears twitched. "You sound like you've done this a lot."
"Dozens of simulations, thousands of theoretical maneuvers, and a few real ones you wouldn't believe," I replied. "Rule number one: always trust the astromech, but never forget you're the one making the final call. Rule number two: the moment your instincts contradict the targeting computer, listen to your instincts. Rule number three… don't forget rule one."
She chuckled. "Sounds complicated."
"Complicated? No. Effective? Absolutely. Just like me," I said, patting my chestplate. "Now go check the comms section and make sure Mirro understands her job. Time's tight."
"Yes, Commander Ethan," she said with a grin, clearly enjoying the unusual lecture.