Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [112]
“Yes, sir!”
Veers turned to go. Raising his voice, he nodded at Davin’s instructor as he spoke. “Have Recruit Felth report to Assignments when he returns. A man of his caliber deserves immediate recognition. My staff will have an assignment worthy of his talents ready when he returns.”
“Yes, sir,” said the instructor.
As an afterthought, Veers raised a finger. “And impound all the datacubes on this simulation. Have them sent to my command headquarters. Understood?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“And quickly. I have been dispatched for temporary duty as an advisor to the Emperor’s new Death Star. I want this accomplished before I leave.”
When the scout ship disappeared from view, Davin’s instructor clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you did it, recruit, but I have a feeling you’ve been marked for a one-in-a-million career!”
• • •
The familiar background hum of the starship didn’t comfort Davin Felth. The sharp oil-on-metal smell, harsh lighting, and polished decks of the huge troop transport should have made Davin feel right at home—but ever since receiving the hush-hush orders from Colonel Veers’s command section, he had been totally confused.
No one questioned the sealed orders when he reported to the Imperial troop transport, and no one explained exactly what he was supposed to do. All he knew was that now, two hundred light-years from Carida, he was assigned to a detachment of stormtroopers, setting off for some forsaken planet.
Stormtroopers!
He drew in a breath and tried to explain for the third time to the man staring at papers on the desk, ignoring him. “Captain Terrik, you just don’t understand. I’ve spent the last day trying to find out what is going on, but no one has the authority to help me. I was told personally by Colonel Veers that I would receive an assignment worthy of my talents. I’m an AT-AT operator, not a … a foot soldier!”
The officer’s smoothly shaven head snapped up so that Davin could see the man’s eyes. Deep, penetrating, and utterly without fear, Captain Terrik bored his gaze into Davin like a lightsaber. “Stormtroopers are not foot soldiers!” He placed his hands on his desk and stood, barely holding back his trembling. “If it was up to me, you Jawa slime, I’d have spaced you when we first hit vacuum. I’m well aware of Colonel Veers’s orders, and we’re going to follow his directions to the micron!”
“Very well,” said Davin, somewhat relieved. He straightened and looked smartly around the cabin. Headquarters for the small detachment of twenty stormtroopers on board the ship, Captain Terrik’s cabin was decorated with battle streamers, plaques, paintings of battles against the Rebels, and a holo of Lord Vader. “You will show me to my correct assignment, then.” He smiled at the captain. Terrik trembled more visibly and turned redder by the second.
“Stand at attention!” growled Captain Terrik. “Listen up, you mynock bait! It took me all day to confirm those orders, and Emperor only knows why Colonel Veers wants this. But you belong to me now, Felth! We’ve got another month of maneuvers before we get to Tatooine, and I intend to use that time whipping you into shape.”
“Tatooine?” said Davin, his face growing white. “What’s that? There must be some kind of mistake.”
“Oh, no.” Captain Terrik grinned wolfishly. He picked up Davin’s orders lying on his desk and shook them under Davin’s nose. “My detachment of stormtroopers is relieving the Thirty-seventh Detachment that has been stationed at Mos Eisley on Tatooine. We’ll be assigned to the governor, but we’re not in his chain of command—my superior is in the next sector, half a light-year away. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not going directly to Tatooine, so I’ll have a month to break in a young Jawa slime like you, turn you into a real stormtrooper. You’ll learn pretty quick what it’s like to be a foot soldier.