One. Two. Three. Sixty. Vallyrie sang in her head in a cadence usually reserved for morning P.T.’s Every count a measured step in her core workout. One was crunching up, two was her right elbow touching her left knee, three the opposite, and the final count was back down with her back touching the training mat. Sweat soaked her already skintight workout outfit, making the shirt form to each individual ab and angle of muscle. One. Two. Three. Sixty-One.
Her brown eyes were hardened and focused on the holo-screen on the wall in the gym. The Empire practically all but surrendered to the Hutts. Kriffing politicians. One of her friends from basic training had been killed in the fighting. Any one of the blood sucking bastards coming through the barracks would find a frag grenade shoved up their ass faster than they could surrender to a bunch of slugs… Oh wait…
One. Two. Three. Sixty-Two. Every time she came up, she blew the air from her lungs to compress her core, and then breathed in on the way down. A brand-new Lieutenant in the Imperial Assault Corps. Given a platoon of forty troopers to command in battle and the Empire goes and ends the fighting before she can get a taste for it. The platoon had practically laughed her out of the room when she was introduced by the Company Commander.
Second Platoon, the most reliable soldiers in all of Iron Company, and they gave them a brand-new Lieutenant who’s only combat experience was dropping a jock in high school because he thought he’d earned a feel of her ass after a compliment. That was okay though, she had everything to prove and nothing to lose. One. Two. Three. Sixty-Three.
It was a wonder she hadn’t knocked anyone on their ass since getting stationed on Raxus. Only things to do in her spare time was punch bags, workout, and go out drinking. Everyone knew she was a soldier; it was clear from the way she moved and talked. The way her muscles flexed when she took a drink, or when someone got a little too close to order their drinks. Didn’t stop people from shooting their shot with her. Right, guess she ought to add fucking to list of things to do. As much as she enjoyed her time off, she needed the kriffing field.
Her brown eyes were hardened and focused on the holo-screen on the wall in the gym. The Empire practically all but surrendered to the Hutts. Kriffing politicians. One of her friends from basic training had been killed in the fighting. Any one of the blood sucking bastards coming through the barracks would find a frag grenade shoved up their ass faster than they could surrender to a bunch of slugs… Oh wait…
One. Two. Three. Sixty-Two. Every time she came up, she blew the air from her lungs to compress her core, and then breathed in on the way down. A brand-new Lieutenant in the Imperial Assault Corps. Given a platoon of forty troopers to command in battle and the Empire goes and ends the fighting before she can get a taste for it. The platoon had practically laughed her out of the room when she was introduced by the Company Commander.
Second Platoon, the most reliable soldiers in all of Iron Company, and they gave them a brand-new Lieutenant who’s only combat experience was dropping a jock in high school because he thought he’d earned a feel of her ass after a compliment. That was okay though, she had everything to prove and nothing to lose. One. Two. Three. Sixty-Three.
It was a wonder she hadn’t knocked anyone on their ass since getting stationed on Raxus. Only things to do in her spare time was punch bags, workout, and go out drinking. Everyone knew she was a soldier; it was clear from the way she moved and talked. The way her muscles flexed when she took a drink, or when someone got a little too close to order their drinks. Didn’t stop people from shooting their shot with her. Right, guess she ought to add fucking to list of things to do. As much as she enjoyed her time off, she needed the kriffing field.