I walked into the Senate building for my meeting with Senator Bic Dededod Hod of Abregado-rae. My first impression of the very heart of the Republic? The decor seemed overdone, impractical and a bit gaudy. I sigh as I hand over my identification to the guard at the entrance before entering the maze of hallways that made up the city sized structure, R4 trailing behind me as ever.

  I grab the first available elevator to the right level before transferring over to one of the internal trains. Maker these things were slow. I glance down at my notes as I exit the carriage and start walking towards the offices of my target Senator. A couple Clones salute me as I pass by them, I salute them in return. I finally reach Senator Bic’s offices and enter the first room where I am greeted by a primly dressed Secretary.

  The Gados turns away from his terminal as he greets me: “Good morning, would you be Commodore Thraken Dericote of Fondor?”

  “Yes, that would be me. I believe I have an appointment due as of this minute.” I reply.

  “Indeed, you are precisely on time. I’ll let his kindness know now.”

  I wait a moment as the Secretary types a few things into the terminal before turning back to me: “Would you like something to drink or eat?”

  “No thank you.” I reply.

  “Very well. The Senator will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” I say as I enter the office of the Senator of Abregado-rae.

  The office is … in a word comfortable. Couches severing off part of the room from the rest to create a small sitting space around a large viewscreen. The Window right behind the desk of the Gados Senator in the opposite corner of the room and the space in between filled with a few chairs and tables. The side of the room towards the office desk has a long sideboard with an assortment of knickknacks and trinkets.

  I give a short bow as I enter. The Senator gets up from his desk and comes around to greet me near the entrance of his office: “Good morning, Commodore. I am happy to finally meet you. I only wish we had the opportunity sooner. Would you join me?”

  I nod as I join the Senator in the comfortable sitting area, the viewscreen silently showing the news channel. I take a seat on the opposite coach as the Senator, a small table I hadn’t noticed before separating us.

  The Gados rolls his eyes before speaking: “For formalities sake, I suppose it would be appropriate if you referred to me by Senator Bic, though if you prefer I am more than happy to go by my given name.”

  “I am willing to go by your lead.” I reply.

  “Then I am simply Dededod for you.” The furry alien says, his yes lighting up slightly in joy as he continues, “I must say, I am so happy to meet another who doesn’t default to my Clan name. It is such a hassle and I keep fearing my grandmother is lurking behind me.”

  “She was also a Senator?” I ask.

  “Oh yes, quite a few years ago, but habits are ever so hard to break.”

  “Then I shall follow your lead, Senator. You may refer to me as Thraken.”

  “Wonderful!” The Gados says, as he places his hands together and slightly tilts his head.

  “I really do need to thank you for seeing me. It has been a tad difficult finding people who share our area’s context. I happen to have a fellow Fondorian, a friend from the Academy, under my command, but it isn’t very conductive having the same conversations over and over again” I say.

  “Yes I can relate. I used to be able to hide behind Senators Flas’tix of Giju and Hurriv of Thyferra. Alas now it is only I and Senator Zar of Ghorman trying to represent an area consisting of a hundred worlds, many of which were forced under the Separatists banner.” The Senator bemoans.

  “I am sure when this war is won you will have the thanks of every sentient you represented during these trying times. I … We are fighting for something worth preserving.” I say.

  “That we are, Thraken. Though I fear the Republic we were always told about is far from what we have.” The Senator says.

  I freeze up immediately. Senator Dededod notices, his lips sliding up his buckteeth slightly. I glance about the room as I continue: “The current situation necessitates it.”

  “Is that what your superiors tell you?”

  “That is what must be the truth, Senator.” I reply. Do I risk it? Kark it, “You wouldn’t happen to have any sandcrickets would you? I know it’s famine food, never mind that I failed to ask your secretary, but I suddenly have an odd longing for them.”

  The Gado’s lips inch back and his eyes widen slightly before he answers: “No, I am afraid I recently used up the last of the stock after one of your fellow Fondorian officers visited me last.”

  “Would I know them?” I ask.

  “I do not believe so, a younger Captain fresh from the Academy, not from any notable family.”

  “Wasn’t so long ago I was fresh out of the Academy.”

  “Yet times change what that actually means. We also can’t all be in the favor of the Chancellor, can we Thraken soon to be Rear Admiral Dericote?” The Senator says, a grin growing on his face.

  “Well I certainly don’t understand why. I suppose I just so happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and have friends in the right places.” I placate.

  “If we could circle back to my previous question, do your superiors tell you how to think?”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “In the Navy one is trained to think a certain way. To be distant, separated, to think only with numbers. It is a pity I was never the best with numbers.” I answer.

  “A pity. I suppose then that certain recent policies also alarm you?” He asks.

  “Quite a few, though you will forgive me if I do not go into specifics.”

  “No need to even ask. I fear our Republic is slipping further and further into a swamp of rot and decay.”

  “Well put, I understand how you became Senator.”

  “You flatter me.”

  This bit of conversation had clearly run its current course. I go ahead and ask my next question: “Will you be at my promotion ceremony? I do believe that traditionally the world’s Senator hands the recipient the ceremonial sabre.”

  The eyes of the Gados widen slightly: “I was lead to believe that Fleet Admiral would be doing that.”

  “The Chancellor applying the badge of office has thrown everything into the gutter. I only recently was given the plans, R4?” my droid hands me the datapad with the necessary information, “Thank you. Ah here. The Chancellor will apply the badge of office, handshake, I salute, Fleet Admiral Honor will pin the Medallion of Honor below, we exchange salutes, handshake and finally a Senator of my choosing shall grant me the ceremonial saber, handshake, I salute or bow, the discretion is mine.”

  “I would be honored. Are you certain?”

  “I would have asked some other Senator to do it even if I had access to the Fondorian Senator. Bad blood between the families there.” I answer.

  “Whatever did he do?”

  “I’ll leave it to your imagination.” I say a smirk growing on my face.

  I take a deep breath as I enter a small dinner and take a seat at the designated table. I order something to eat, a noodle and broth dish with vegetables and a couple slices of roast fowl I didn’t dare question. I move to scratch my lower leg and grab the datastick taped to the bottom of the bench. The stick quickly disappears into my boot.

  I finish my meal and tip the Ugnaught at the counter as I leave. General Solomahal had promised the information was solid. Whatever it was it had caused the Lutrillian to have to go silent for a month and a half so far. I had hoped to discuss with him in person, but he had been transferred to oversee operations at a prison. I walk down the mid levels and inspect a small stall selling fruit. I pick one at random and pay the stall owner.

  I take a bite out of the sour fruit. Juicy, bitter and wonderful. I double back to ask the stall owner the name and buy another two for later consumption as I walk through the semi seedy mid levels of the glorified space station that called itself a planet.

  I take another bite from the lime-grapefruit. Even on Fondor you could, at least theoretically, live away from the massive cities. It wasn’t easy. Maker, the trip I and pa’ went on in the desert after graduating from secondary school was both hellish and wonderful. Not to mention sustainable to a certain extent. Walking at night and burying your tent under a layer of sand during the day. Trapping sandcrickets and hunting whatever lizard you could get your hands on, be they the large winged winglizards that soared overhead on streams of wind and exhaust, or the smaller scavengers that combed the desert for sandcrickets and each other, not to mention the speeder sized sandgators that swam through the sands like they were water and would try to ambush anything that moved to snap their neck in a death roll.

  I missed home. Whenever I got back I’d probably spend a month with ma’ and pa’ then go into the desert for a week or two. I take another bite through the tough rind of the fruit. Though I’d probably reenlist eventually, I really could use a couple months of time off. A sigh escapes me as I walk up to the next level-elevator. I had a couple hours before rehearsal and I was yearning for a nap.

  Maker the rehearsal was torture. The Chancellor didn’t show up, his aide saying he had an important meeting to deal with, the other officers I was sharing the ceremony with were either at least ten years my senior or fresh out of the Academy. I had the very uncomfortable feeling that we were running out of experienced officers alarmingly fast.

  I should have seen the signs with Junior Captain Pryce. Who in the name of the Maker places a Junior Captain in charge of a cruiser, a heavy cruiser especially? Did this mean we were placing Lieutenants in charge of Corvettes? What next, a Sergeant as the commanding officer of an outpost? Maker preserve us, if they were placing Junior Lieutenants in charge of entire ships. I sigh as the rehearsal ends and sneak a drag from my flask as R4 hands me a datapad. A report from Senior Captain Hugh on the status of the North East Slice Command and a report on the retrofits I ordered for the Little Revenge and the other Dreadnoughts in my squadron. I sigh and hand it back to R4, I would read them later.

  I wonder if even half of the present expecting promotions had even done their time at Carida, Anaxes or Coruscant. They looked too young to be promoted to Captain. I would bet a years salary that one of them wasn’t even twenty yet. I was starting to see what Senator Dededod meant with the times changing what being fresh out of the Academy actually meant. It seemed like this war was trying to kill off my entire generation of officers by sending them off to war prematurely. I slip the flask out again for another drag.

  “Spare a swallow for an old warhound?” One of the older officers asks as he leans against the wall next to me.

  I silently pass the flask over to the old man. I blink in mild surprise when recognizing the man as Admiral Coburn: “Didn’t know you were up for promotion to Fleet Admiral, Admiral Coburn, sir.”

  “My actions at Lola Sayu and continued service earned it.” The man answers as he hands the flask back, “That and the court martial of Fleet Admiral Drachma. Strong stuff in this, I ought to steal a couple of your moonshiners.”

  “If they put in the transfer request I might just let you, sir.” I reply.

  “If you lubricate every elder of yours like this I can understand why General Koon speaks highly of you.” The Admiral says as his eyes narrow slightly as he speaks.

  “He honors me with his praise, though I must admit, I’ve never met the General in person, so he hasn’t had the full experience of my hospitality.” I reply as I return the flask to its hiding spot. Was he trying to pull something from me?

  “That he does. I also hear you’re being promoted to Marshal Administrator.”

  “I have also heard that. I have been informed by Fleet Admiral Honor, that this was done despite her attempts at providing alternatives.”

  “Hm. Well then. I shall see you in the near future. Our current sectors of operations do overlap in the Tion cluster.”

  “Yes, I suppose they do. I look forward to officially be working with you, sir.” I say as the old man leaves me.

  R4 asks me if I want to screen his records for anything interesting. I ponder the question a moment before nodding slightly and leaving the large room myself. I still had a small thing to do today after all.

  I take a deep breath as I wait to be called upon. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out. R4 would be in the crowd, near the front, to record everything for ma’ and pa’. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out. I had done the rehearsal. I had memorized the ceremony. Everything would be fine. I tap my slugthrower and give a short prayer to the Maker.

  “Now, Officer Dericote.” The Protocol droid says. I nod in thanks and begin marching out the door.

  I am almost blinded by the bright lights. Glory to the Navy is playing throughout the ceremony on loop as I march through the parted crowd. Dignitaries, Senators, Reporters, the wealthy and the families of the officers all standing together in a crowd of hundreds upon hundreds. The verse ends as I begin climbing up the stairs and the music shifts slightly. A transition and suddenly I feel tears pricking at my eyes as a song near to my heart begins to play, an old worker song of brass and concussions, a song to hammer to and march to and I feel my smile grow and my heart thrum with pride as I ascend the platform and stand next to Admiral Coburn. The song transitions back to Glory to the Navy as the next soon to be Rear Admiral approaches the platform.

  “That song means something to you?” Coburn asks quietly.

  “A workers song, one I’ve heard more often than I care to count.” I reply quietly as the song shifts into a triumphant brass heavy rendition of an Alderaani drinking song.

  “A fine choice.” The Admiral says in reply.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t hear yours.” I ask quietly.

  “A stanza from a Lantillian play.” He replies.

  The five imminent Commodores march along abreast, followed by a block of fifty new Captains of all grades. Finally the music goes silent and the Chancellor walks up to the Podium.

  “I wish to thank everyone present for coming this fine day. For this day we are honoring the children of our Republic who serve as our protectors. These fine men and women of the Navy have earned their newest ranks and titles and deserve much more than we can give. Days like these are however not only for celebration, but also for remembrance. Let us remember the fallen who gave their lives so that our glorious Republic may preserver in these trying times. Long live the Republic and Long live the Navy!” The Chancellor says, finishing his short speech with a shout.

  The room is filled with the applause and I stamp down on my increasing urge to sigh. It would not do. Instead I wait patiently as one of the Chancellor’s cronies gives a much longer and less substantive speech. Maker preserve me, they are speaking in the perfect frequency to draw you to sleep. I feel a laugh creep up my throat at the thought of the media storm I could cause by falling asleep as Senator whatsit from who the kriff cares drones on.

  Finally the Senator shuts his trap and the ceremony begins in earnest. I stare forwards as the Chancellor pins the updated rank plaque on now officially Fleet Admiral Coburn’s chest. Then a Senator I didn’t recognize handed him back his ceremonial blade with a new scabbard of perfectly polished wood, inlaid with leather. The salutes and handshakes are exchanged before the Chancellor, Fleet Admiral Honor and Senator Dededod approach me next.

  “You do the Republic proud, my boy.” The Chancellor says quietly as he pins my officer’s badge to my chest, “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

  “Thank you, your excellency.” I reply quietly before snapping my salute to the man and shaking his hand.

  The Chancellor steps back as Fleet Admiral Honor steps forward with the medal. She pins it under the pristine new badge. We exchange salutes and shake hands before she steps back to allow Senator Dededod to offer me the saber. Its sheath is a polished steel with a leather inside to protect the blade. I bow as I receive the blade and attach it to my belt, opposite to my slugthrower. I give the Glados a salute and shake his spindly hand.

  The Fleet Admiral and Chancellor move on to the next officer as the Senator returns to the crowd. I can’t remove the small smile from my face for the rest of the ceremony, despite it dragging on a bit. Finally the ceremony ends with the music returning on full volume.

  The Supreme Chancellor is gesturing wildly towards us while his amplified voice breaks through the loud music: “These fine soldiers are our future. Their loyalty to the Republic is great and shall last as long as the Institutions they fight for shall. Long live the Republic and Long live the Navy!”

  The reply is like thunder: “LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!”