It was a quiet day in orbit around Taris. In the void of space a few hundred ships passed hither and thither, but stellar traffic wasn't anything like that of Coruscant or another jewel of the universe. This relative tranquility was briefly ended by the arrival of a ship of ancient provenance and great age, one which could very well have seen service in the Imperial Navy of the First Galactic Empire. This was the Falconer, the ship of Zord Leeche Daskim.
Zord stood near a window on the bridge, looking out to his homeworld. Taris never seemed to have recovered; the lieutenant remembered the halcyon days when he and his fellow aristocrats would throw rocks at beggars and the poor from high walkways. That recollection brought a smile to his face, those days of naive youth! Who could have thought that things would turn so bleak? Back then, it seemed like the Daskims would retake their glory, and the family rested its hopes on Zord to be their restorer.
A man with a large mustache spoke up, bringing Zord out of his reminiscence, "All systems are fully operational, captain. The hangar crew is standing by for your orders," that was Semt Luuk, one of Zord's adjutants. Though protocol dictated that he be called lieutenant, Zord's closest officers called him captain all the same. He had the utter respect of his men; Zord thought this was because they saw in him the ultimate admiral, but it was more because he, unlike many other officers, bothered to remember their names, birthdays, and the like. He treated them better than was normal and he believed in them greatly, mainly because as he believed himself to be the best captain in the universe, so too should his crew be the best.
"Excellent," Zord said, "I will inform the crew of my immediate departure." Zord walked to the commander's chair and picked up a wired microphone from its attending console, "Attention all crewmen, this is the Lieutenant speaking: clear the hangar and prepare shuttle two for immediate departure. Foreman SumMook, report to the hangar. I repeat: Foreman SumMook, report to the hangar."
Zord hanged up the microphone and collected some transfer papers he had left on his chair. "Semt Luuk," Zord said, turning toward his adjutant, "you are acting lieutenant until I return to the ship. Keep it in top shape." Semt Luuk gave him a salute, "Aye, sir," he said. He was a good man; honorable, reliable, the best second in command Zord had in a long while. He thought the man would go far in the Empire because of what he learned under Zord's leadership.
The Lieutenant turned toward the vague direction of the Imperial capital and saluted, "For the Empire," he declared, and his words were repeated by all of the men on the bridge. That was his motto and purpose in life; to live and die for the Empire, and to be recognized by it as the greatest officer that has ever graced galactic history.
Zord thereafter set off for the hangar deck. He strove to take a rather byzantine path toward the hangar to avoid a certain SumMook; he despised the alien and was not overmuch an appreciator of it. Who knew what dark secrets lurked in that monstrous creature's ineffable mind? What dooms lurked behind its putrid, gelatinous form, unmeant for any man to see, hidden behind a mask like some sort of alien fungus from the darkest depths of a lost planet?
Zord stood near a window on the bridge, looking out to his homeworld. Taris never seemed to have recovered; the lieutenant remembered the halcyon days when he and his fellow aristocrats would throw rocks at beggars and the poor from high walkways. That recollection brought a smile to his face, those days of naive youth! Who could have thought that things would turn so bleak? Back then, it seemed like the Daskims would retake their glory, and the family rested its hopes on Zord to be their restorer.
A man with a large mustache spoke up, bringing Zord out of his reminiscence, "All systems are fully operational, captain. The hangar crew is standing by for your orders," that was Semt Luuk, one of Zord's adjutants. Though protocol dictated that he be called lieutenant, Zord's closest officers called him captain all the same. He had the utter respect of his men; Zord thought this was because they saw in him the ultimate admiral, but it was more because he, unlike many other officers, bothered to remember their names, birthdays, and the like. He treated them better than was normal and he believed in them greatly, mainly because as he believed himself to be the best captain in the universe, so too should his crew be the best.
"Excellent," Zord said, "I will inform the crew of my immediate departure." Zord walked to the commander's chair and picked up a wired microphone from its attending console, "Attention all crewmen, this is the Lieutenant speaking: clear the hangar and prepare shuttle two for immediate departure. Foreman SumMook, report to the hangar. I repeat: Foreman SumMook, report to the hangar."
Zord hanged up the microphone and collected some transfer papers he had left on his chair. "Semt Luuk," Zord said, turning toward his adjutant, "you are acting lieutenant until I return to the ship. Keep it in top shape." Semt Luuk gave him a salute, "Aye, sir," he said. He was a good man; honorable, reliable, the best second in command Zord had in a long while. He thought the man would go far in the Empire because of what he learned under Zord's leadership.
The Lieutenant turned toward the vague direction of the Imperial capital and saluted, "For the Empire," he declared, and his words were repeated by all of the men on the bridge. That was his motto and purpose in life; to live and die for the Empire, and to be recognized by it as the greatest officer that has ever graced galactic history.
Zord thereafter set off for the hangar deck. He strove to take a rather byzantine path toward the hangar to avoid a certain SumMook; he despised the alien and was not overmuch an appreciator of it. Who knew what dark secrets lurked in that monstrous creature's ineffable mind? What dooms lurked behind its putrid, gelatinous form, unmeant for any man to see, hidden behind a mask like some sort of alien fungus from the darkest depths of a lost planet?