“Well, Lieutenant, you getting in or aren’t you?” she said.

 “Not sure if I should yet Chief.  I should try and figure out where my quarters are.  The problem is that Mon Cal cruisers have no one standard lay out.”

 “Well get in.  You buy me a drink in the off duty lounge and I’ll take you to your quarters,” she said.

 “Won’t anyone raise their eyebrows at that?  Regs are pretty clear on what I can do for enlisted and what I can’t do for enlisted personnel.”

 “Nah, not really.  Besides, I’ll be doing you a favor.  There are no Drunk and disorderly charges filed on ship unless it gets really bad.  This will let you red flag some of your future cliental.”

 “Great,” I laughed aloud.  “I spend eight years at the Obroa-Skai University studying science and technology and patent law only to represent a bunch of drunks.”

 “Welcome to military life, Lieutenant,” she said as the doors hissed shut.  The amazing thing I always thought about turbolifts was how fast they moved you but keeping you inside an inertial dampened field so you couldn’t feel the movement.  This was probably a good thing.  Being shot through tubes that traced on a ship like a Calamari Cruiser over kilometers of tubes.  Controlled by a computer that avoided collisions and routed your car through nexus hubs and stopped at lift entrances that were on the route you were going already.  This was an inconvenience if you are the second rider, but running or walking the hundred or so decks in addition to traveling nearly a kilometer didn’t annoy anyone at all.

 The lounge on this ship was someplace in the middle of the ship and about in the middle deck.  I later learned this was two-fold plan.  It insulated the crew off duty if the ship were to have to go on alert and it allowed those crew members, pilots, officers, and so forth to get to their assigned stations faster relatively if the lounge was placed in the bow or stern.  There was draw back to having the lounge in the middle of everything.  There was no view port.  The Mon Cals on all their ships have wonderful viewports that make you feel like you’re floating free in space.  Well, one can’t have everything.  I did have a view of sorts.  I could think of much worse things than looking at the Chief for the next few hours.

 We stepped out of the lift.  There is something to be said of the rule of silence that happens when two or more people ride an elevator of any kind together.  There I was standing next to the most beautiful woman that I’d probably seen since Obroa-Skai and I couldn’t do anything about it.  When the day came that I could, I vowed then, I would do something about it.

 She led me down a winding hallway to a door sign marked in Basic, Mon Cal, Sullustan, and at least three other languages I didn’t read as “THE LOUNGE”.  She pressed the entrance button.  The hatchway door parted, revealing a moderately well lit room.  Next to the door way we entered on was a weapons check.  An enlisted crewman took our blasters and vibro-knives.  He said we could have them back when we left.  After the security check point were tables with serving droids of all kinds.  Multi-armed humanoid form droids with trays of food and spirits waiting to be consumed by it’s soon to be inebriated purchaser.

 In the next ring inside were small gaming tables.  Dejerik, Sabaac, a more general Roulette type wheel beeped and whistled with life, and some other games probably Mon Calamari or Quarren in origin based on their design and playing utensils.  Some games seemed to have money wagered, others rations, still others nothing at all.  The Chief gave me a glance.  I wasn’t sure to make of it.

 “Don’t know if I should feel sorry for those playing without money or relieved that they aren’t risking their pay and food on some game,” I leaned closer to say to her.

 “Don’t be.  Those who don’t play for money on here are the sharks.  They play for money when on leave only.  They usually get asked to leave at whatever whole they enter while on leave.  They practice against each other,” she said back to my ears still bent towards her.

 In the center of the room, acting as a giant hub was a circular bar.  From here all things seemed to radiate outward.  But here in the center was the life.  The life that was young beings from across the galaxy that felt the urge and belief to serve in the now Republic military.  The Chief seemed to feel at ease with me for two reasons, one I obviously wasn’t the obvert military ass that officers are sometimes accused of being to enlisted personnel and secondly, she and I were older than just about everyone in the bar.  She walked up and ordered something from the green protocol droid that was acting as bartender and host.  She ordered some drink that I wasn’t familiar with for herself.  I ordered the ever popular Lomin Ale.

 I saw some of my new squadron mates sitting across the bar from where we were.  “Let’s go sit down with the squad,” I said.

 “I don’t think it’d be proper for me to that, Lieutenant.”

 “Hmmm.  Mechanics and pilots often fraternize in the Empire.  All the mechanics at the training bases did.  Some had some good stories,” I countered, hoping she wouldn’t sense that I didn’t want her to leave me.

 “I don’t know.  Just would seem weird to me.”

 “Two things, Chief.  You and me are the oldest beings in the joint.  So unless you want to have some age of consent  being from some small planet hitting on you, you won’t be safe from advances.”
 “Some officer you are.  That’s one thing, what’s the second?”

 “That’s an order.  I do know how to be an officer from time to time too,” I managed to hold back the smile.

 “OK.  You win, sir,” she smiled back at me.  We made our way to the tables that Taugrim, Zaron, Andy, and JC had situated themselves at.  There were four empty seats.  Taugrim, Zaron and Andy began to get up.

 “It’s ok.  No ranks if we’re not on duty,” I said to them.  “If that’s ok with the Captain here.”

 “Sure is ok with me,” Capt. JC Sabre said.  “We were just talking about what we did prior to our Guardian Wing assignments.  I was telling them about being an A-Wing pilot and training with Pash Cracken.”

 “Never met him.  Heard some stories.  Probably the third or fourth best pilot the Republic has got at the moment depending on where you put Luke Skywalker,” I said.

 “What do you mean by that?” Andy Whiteway asked.

 “Well he’s fourth if you count Jedi Skywalker as an active pilot.  Third if you don’t,” I explained.

 “This ought to be good to hear,” Taugrim said.

 “Yeah, who’s better?” Zaron Farwalker.

 “I’m following you on the Skywalker as the best,” Chief said.  “But, like the rest of the clueless, I mean officers club here, who’s better?”

 “That hurt, Chief,” JC said.  “Yeah, I’d like to pass on to Capt Cracken who you think is better.”

 “Ok.  Since you all want to know.  Wedge Antilles for one.  He’s probably the best starfighter pilot we have that is active and a full member of the military.  Capt. Tycho Celchu is next in my book is one of the few vetran members of the original Rogue Squadron left.  Then Capt. Cracken.  Then I think it’s the last two members of the Rogues stills surviving.  Capt. Hobbie Kilvan and Capt. Wes Janson,” I defended.

 “Hmm,” JC scratched his head.  “I’ll pass it on.  Pash will probably thank you.  Have you heard about them reforming Rogue Squadron?”

 “Nope.  Some scuttle butt is that Cmdr. Antilles is going to make them more Spec Forces than fighter pilots,” Andy said.

 “Did you say Cmdr. Antilles?  I had an interview with him while on Folor.  Something about forming an elite squadron.  I didn’t get in because so many political appointees.  That must be what I interviewed for.  Taugrim, Zaron, you were there.  Did you guys get an interview?”  I started to put it all together.

 “Nope,” Zaron said shaking his head.  “Was lucky I passed at all.  Taugrim here really bailed me out.”

 “Yeah.  I was middle of the pack.  I think that former CorSec agent got in.  Along with some Twi’lek and two Thyferrians if I read the roster print out right.  There were some others,” Taugrim said.

 “I'll be damned,” JC said.  “You almost were a Rogue.  For that, tomorrow, I’m going extra hard on you.  ‘To do the Impossible’.”

 “Thanks.  I have to get going.  Last one here and all, I need to get out of this flight suit and store my flight gear on board,” I said, sipping the last of my drink.

 “OK.  Well, sirs, I must be going too.  Just came by at the behest of the Lieutenant here to get the specs on his ship and the imprint of his astromech,” Chief said getting up.  They all wished us farewell and see you tomorrows.  She and I winded our way back out the way we came.  We retrieved our weapons from the young crewman.

 “Thanks for in there,” she said as the door slid shut behind us.

 “No problem.  It’s hard when a Master Chief is the head mechanic and not an officer.  But tradition, and well respect for our lives in your hands dictate that you’re as welcome to rest with us off hours as any one member of the squadron,” I said.

 “That’s not all.  For being yourself.  Something tells me that there’s a lot to you as a person.  You don’t like it here and trust me, among the enlisted, there is a growing source of dread.”

 “From???” as I hit the call button on the turbolift.

 “This operation we’re about to under go.  It seems so,” she started.

 “Half-assed?” I tried to help.

 “Your words, not mine,” she clarified.  “I mean the whole Rebel Alliance was like that.  But even then, they wouldn’t act with out as little as rumor as that we’re operating on,” she said.

 “I know.  I got that much from the officers introduction and briefing.  We’re four star fighter squadrons.  With two more available from the Home One Task force if need be.  We’ve got a platform to stage from in space we pretty much hold.  Got this Mon Cal cruiser here, a stolen Carrack Class Cruiser, a Correllian Corvette, and a Nebulon-B Class Frigate.  That is a third of a task force.  All we know is the approximate space this Omega group hides in.  I have a bad feeling about this.”  With those words the turbolift doors hissed open and she walked me to my quarters, two door ways down from the turbolift on Deck 39, Section 24, two sections away from the Hangar Deck.