Fic: Jenna's War II: Big Girl (2/12)
The next morning… doesn’t start any better. “Rise and shine, 1st platoon!”
Almost relieved, I follow Tarkker’s order and get up, eager to leave my cot. Tonight was one of the better ones because I didn’t even fall asleep. Which meant no nightmares. But it also meant restlessly tossing and turning, listening to the snores and deep sleep breathing of the others and hoping the night would be over soon.
But the morning isn't any better. Even before I can gather my sparse toiletry to head for my usual morning routine, Tarkker calls me to him. When I arrive, he doesn’t even wait for me to salute and report but barks out his order at once, “Captain Borlin wants to see you at 0700. Hurry up, lazy ass.” Before I can answer with a “Yes sir!” he’s already gone to harass a few other of the platoon members. Stupid asshole.
I take a short look at my wrist chrono. I have exactly 28 minutes to get showered, dressed, and be standing in front of the Captain. Well, that means either no breakfast or even less time for cleaning up. Great.
In the end I decide to skip the slop in the mess tent and take the short amount of extra time to shower off a few days worth of sweat and grime. For breakfast, I grab a couple of ration bars from my pack. I finish the last one right in front of Borlin’s tent as I'm about to walk in. After swallowing the last bite and making sure I look 'Tatooine' presentable, I take a deep breath and then enter the tent.
Sitting behind a makeshift desk in the front area is Borlin's new aide, a rather youthful Devaronian male with Corporal's stripes on his jumpsuit. He shows his impressive teeth in a smile and says, “And you are…”
“Private Jenna Melara, reporting as ordered. Sir,” I add as an afterthought. Calling a fellow enlisted man “Sir” is still beyond my understanding but it wouldn’t get me anywhere questioning that habit right now.
“Ah, I see. You can go through.” He jerks his head in the direction of the second flap. Taking another deep breath, I enter the lion’s den.
Borlin immediately looks up and I stand at attention and report. He just nods and orders me to stand at ease. Then he leans back in his chair and says, “I don’t like to beat around the bush, so I'll get straight to the point. Your platoon needs a new leader. We won’t be getting any new officers for quite some time, as Alliance High Command seems to think they're needed elsewhere, so someone up the chain of command decided we were going to send one of our enlisted men to OCS. They've decided to send you. Congratulations.” A smirk crosses his face and the sarcastic manner in which he congratulated me makes me think that this is probably not the most fortuitous thing that's happened to me in the Army. Frankly, I'm not inclined to disagree.
He raises his eyebrows. Oh, of course, it’s expected of me to say something. “I… thank you, sir. But… permission to speak freely?”
He shrugs, then says, “I’m always interested in what my soldiers have to say.” The hell you are, you arrogant bastard.
“Sir… why me? Corporal Tarkker is already leading the platoon in Sergeant Dankin's absence and Sergeant Dankin will be returning sometime in the next few weeks.”
Borlin raises his eyebrows again and this time it almost looks like approval. “Quite frankly, I have no idea who would want to make you an officer. I would imagine that it probably has something to do with your last name and honoring your mother's memory as a great Naval officer and all that shit.”
I know that infantry officers don’t really appreciate fleet officers but he could at least fake a little respect, couldn’t he? “Anyway, Tarkker’s an incompetent asshole and Dankin might not return to your platoon. Plus I don’t want any trouble with High Command. So you've got two weeks of leave and then you ship out for whatever kind of officer's training they give you nowadays. The contact info is on the disk before you; just make sure you don’t lose it when you’re doing whatever people like you do on leave.”
I know that this means I’m dismissed but some little demon must be riding me today. Or maybe it’s just lack of sleep. “Sir… I want to make a proposition.” He looks up again. Oookay. He's positively pissed that the incompetent Private who's been promoted straight to Lieutenant is still bothering him. That doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise me is him saying, “Shoot.”
“Yesterday… I got a message from home, saying that my father died and that I need to go home to perform his funeral rites. However, considering my family name, I fear that it might be a trap because Chandrila is occupied by Imperial forces. So… I want to take someone with me as backup.” A lazy hand gesture tells me to go on. “I… want Private Farrayn to come with me.”
He leans back again, looking at me as if his eyes could shoot blaster bolts. “First of all, why go back to Chandrila at all? You are a soldier of the Alliance and your duty is first and foremost to us. If there’s any danger of compromising any information about the unit, I am well within my rights to forbid you from going there at all.” Great; just what I need. Having to explain to Captain 'I don’t care about whether you have families out there or not, because this is your family now' Borlin why it’s essential for me to return to my home planet.
“With all due respect, sir… I am the eldest child in my family and as such it’s my duty to perform certain rituals at a family funeral. It's Chandrilan tradition. It’s crucial that I be there. Besides, my father took enough care to ensure a safe journey to Chandrila in case of an event like this. Nothing will be compromised. I just want to be on the safe side.” Dismay is crossing his face again. But it seems that he’s already leaning towards authorizing the trip.
“I can’t spare any extra soldiers and you know that. Or you should know that. The only reason you're getting leave is because Tatooine High Command thinks you deserve a vacation before becoming responsible for the lives of almost fifty other soldiers. Besides, Farrayn lost all leave privileges in that stupid bar fight two weeks ago. There's only two ways for him to get off this rock; with the rest of us, when we finally kick the Imps off or in a body bag.” He's looking almost smug now, the rotten bastard.
“I know that, sir. But… his conduct has been faultless since then. And he is showing real signs of regret.” Lying through your teeth now, are you? My, my, what has gotten into you, Melara? “Besides, he's only a Private and he hates Tarkker like Magic hates Dankin. Sending him with me would mean at least two weeks of peace in the platoon. Sir.” He looks me straight in the eye and I manage not to flinch. Wow. Major once in a lifetime moment here.
After what seems like an eternity, he says, “Fine. Take him wherever you like. Just don’t let it show in your performance when you get back.” Thank you so very much for the implying that I'm a slut, sir. And here I thought you were a stiff old coot with a stick up your backside. “Your flight is scheduled for tomorrow at 0700. Civilian clothes only. Nothing military issue, you understand? You may take your personal sidearm with you, however. Now, unless you have any more shitbombs to drop on my head, you're dismissed.”
“Yessir.”
He just nods, then says, “Maybe there’s something of your mother in you, after all.” I snap to attention, toss him a crisp salute and turn on my heel to head out of the tent. Just what was that last remark about my mother supposed to mean, huh?
~*~
TBC in Chapter Three.
Almost relieved, I follow Tarkker’s order and get up, eager to leave my cot. Tonight was one of the better ones because I didn’t even fall asleep. Which meant no nightmares. But it also meant restlessly tossing and turning, listening to the snores and deep sleep breathing of the others and hoping the night would be over soon.
But the morning isn't any better. Even before I can gather my sparse toiletry to head for my usual morning routine, Tarkker calls me to him. When I arrive, he doesn’t even wait for me to salute and report but barks out his order at once, “Captain Borlin wants to see you at 0700. Hurry up, lazy ass.” Before I can answer with a “Yes sir!” he’s already gone to harass a few other of the platoon members. Stupid asshole.
I take a short look at my wrist chrono. I have exactly 28 minutes to get showered, dressed, and be standing in front of the Captain. Well, that means either no breakfast or even less time for cleaning up. Great.
In the end I decide to skip the slop in the mess tent and take the short amount of extra time to shower off a few days worth of sweat and grime. For breakfast, I grab a couple of ration bars from my pack. I finish the last one right in front of Borlin’s tent as I'm about to walk in. After swallowing the last bite and making sure I look 'Tatooine' presentable, I take a deep breath and then enter the tent.
Sitting behind a makeshift desk in the front area is Borlin's new aide, a rather youthful Devaronian male with Corporal's stripes on his jumpsuit. He shows his impressive teeth in a smile and says, “And you are…”
“Private Jenna Melara, reporting as ordered. Sir,” I add as an afterthought. Calling a fellow enlisted man “Sir” is still beyond my understanding but it wouldn’t get me anywhere questioning that habit right now.
“Ah, I see. You can go through.” He jerks his head in the direction of the second flap. Taking another deep breath, I enter the lion’s den.
Borlin immediately looks up and I stand at attention and report. He just nods and orders me to stand at ease. Then he leans back in his chair and says, “I don’t like to beat around the bush, so I'll get straight to the point. Your platoon needs a new leader. We won’t be getting any new officers for quite some time, as Alliance High Command seems to think they're needed elsewhere, so someone up the chain of command decided we were going to send one of our enlisted men to OCS. They've decided to send you. Congratulations.” A smirk crosses his face and the sarcastic manner in which he congratulated me makes me think that this is probably not the most fortuitous thing that's happened to me in the Army. Frankly, I'm not inclined to disagree.
He raises his eyebrows. Oh, of course, it’s expected of me to say something. “I… thank you, sir. But… permission to speak freely?”
He shrugs, then says, “I’m always interested in what my soldiers have to say.” The hell you are, you arrogant bastard.
“Sir… why me? Corporal Tarkker is already leading the platoon in Sergeant Dankin's absence and Sergeant Dankin will be returning sometime in the next few weeks.”
Borlin raises his eyebrows again and this time it almost looks like approval. “Quite frankly, I have no idea who would want to make you an officer. I would imagine that it probably has something to do with your last name and honoring your mother's memory as a great Naval officer and all that shit.”
I know that infantry officers don’t really appreciate fleet officers but he could at least fake a little respect, couldn’t he? “Anyway, Tarkker’s an incompetent asshole and Dankin might not return to your platoon. Plus I don’t want any trouble with High Command. So you've got two weeks of leave and then you ship out for whatever kind of officer's training they give you nowadays. The contact info is on the disk before you; just make sure you don’t lose it when you’re doing whatever people like you do on leave.”
I know that this means I’m dismissed but some little demon must be riding me today. Or maybe it’s just lack of sleep. “Sir… I want to make a proposition.” He looks up again. Oookay. He's positively pissed that the incompetent Private who's been promoted straight to Lieutenant is still bothering him. That doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise me is him saying, “Shoot.”
“Yesterday… I got a message from home, saying that my father died and that I need to go home to perform his funeral rites. However, considering my family name, I fear that it might be a trap because Chandrila is occupied by Imperial forces. So… I want to take someone with me as backup.” A lazy hand gesture tells me to go on. “I… want Private Farrayn to come with me.”
He leans back again, looking at me as if his eyes could shoot blaster bolts. “First of all, why go back to Chandrila at all? You are a soldier of the Alliance and your duty is first and foremost to us. If there’s any danger of compromising any information about the unit, I am well within my rights to forbid you from going there at all.” Great; just what I need. Having to explain to Captain 'I don’t care about whether you have families out there or not, because this is your family now' Borlin why it’s essential for me to return to my home planet.
“With all due respect, sir… I am the eldest child in my family and as such it’s my duty to perform certain rituals at a family funeral. It's Chandrilan tradition. It’s crucial that I be there. Besides, my father took enough care to ensure a safe journey to Chandrila in case of an event like this. Nothing will be compromised. I just want to be on the safe side.” Dismay is crossing his face again. But it seems that he’s already leaning towards authorizing the trip.
“I can’t spare any extra soldiers and you know that. Or you should know that. The only reason you're getting leave is because Tatooine High Command thinks you deserve a vacation before becoming responsible for the lives of almost fifty other soldiers. Besides, Farrayn lost all leave privileges in that stupid bar fight two weeks ago. There's only two ways for him to get off this rock; with the rest of us, when we finally kick the Imps off or in a body bag.” He's looking almost smug now, the rotten bastard.
“I know that, sir. But… his conduct has been faultless since then. And he is showing real signs of regret.” Lying through your teeth now, are you? My, my, what has gotten into you, Melara? “Besides, he's only a Private and he hates Tarkker like Magic hates Dankin. Sending him with me would mean at least two weeks of peace in the platoon. Sir.” He looks me straight in the eye and I manage not to flinch. Wow. Major once in a lifetime moment here.
After what seems like an eternity, he says, “Fine. Take him wherever you like. Just don’t let it show in your performance when you get back.” Thank you so very much for the implying that I'm a slut, sir. And here I thought you were a stiff old coot with a stick up your backside. “Your flight is scheduled for tomorrow at 0700. Civilian clothes only. Nothing military issue, you understand? You may take your personal sidearm with you, however. Now, unless you have any more shitbombs to drop on my head, you're dismissed.”
“Yessir.”
He just nods, then says, “Maybe there’s something of your mother in you, after all.” I snap to attention, toss him a crisp salute and turn on my heel to head out of the tent. Just what was that last remark about my mother supposed to mean, huh?
~*~
TBC in Chapter Three.