[TOR] Lark

[Lyrima]

"No," growled the recruiting sergeant, glaring at the young volunteer, "You need to grow some whiskers before you're joining up. Go home to your momm--"

The girl angrily ripped the tie from her hair and shook down a mane of glorious blonde hair, "My name's Athen'a," her green eyes flashed, "and I'll never be growing whiskers, ya..!" She quickly clamped her lips shut, knowing better than to insult a Storm Trooper.  The rejection, the obvious inference that only boys should be volunteering for battle infuriated her.  It didn't matter that ultimately the Sergeant was right.  She was too young.

The walk back to her home village was depressing.  Everywhere Athen'a looked was in ruins from Sith forces enjoying 'R 'n R'  Homes burned, the ground blackened, even bodies still littered about.  The inhabitants, those who remained, toiled tirelessly to pay their respects to those who died, burying or cremating bodies and saying prayers.  It was a big job.

Muttering to herself, the young volunteer veered away from the path and struck angrily out into the underbrush and tree line.  Athen'a flung herself against a large tree trunk and stared into the distance.

Weeks before, just after the Sith troops arrived for their vacation, Athen'a found several dead troopers in a field surrounded by trees.  The bodies were covered in the signature white armor,  weapons strapped to the belt and across the bodies.

Athen'a walked amongst the dead, staring in fascination.  She'd always wanted to be a Starship Trooper.  Contact this close to her idols was mesmerizing.  A sudden thought snapped her into action.  What if some of these folks were still alive?  She ran from one to the next, flipping open the visors.  Staring eyes greeted her at every one, varying expressions of dismay, fear and horror stamped forever on the faces.
Except one.

Only one of the fallen was a woman.

A woman. A woman!

Wisps of red hair caught the breeze and danced out of the visor opening.  The staring green eyes conveyed neither horror nor surprise.  If anything, there was a sense of satisfaction in the dead expression. 

Athen'a's hand drifted over the body, the desire to touch swamping her.  A quick glance demonstrated no one was around.  Before she could consider the consequences, she lifted off the helmet.  Strawberry red hair tumbled to the ground as Athen'a gently rested the head in the grass.  She sat back and considered the female soldier.

Storm Troopers were rumored to be wealthy.  The Republic valued their skills and bravery, paying far more for service than for services provided by civilians.  Another furtive glance around assured Athen'a she was still alone.  Dusk was falling and folks were gathering in their homes for the evening meal.  In fact, Athen'a needed to head back home herself.  Knowing the credits would be greatly needed, she slipped her hand into the pockets and packs of the trooper.  Most of the items were incomprensible to the young girl, but the wallet was unmistakable.
 
A rumble overhead alerted Athen'a to her impending discovery.  Grabbing the helmet, Athen'a scampered to the treeline, arriving just in time.  Sith speeders landed and warriors poured out.  A systematic  search began, each of the fallen Storm Trooper's packs and bodies ransacked for items of value to the Empire.  Once searched, the bodies were carelessly tossed into a growing pile. 

Athen'a watched in horror, long enough to understand what was coming next.  The young girl flew through the trees, putting as much distance as possible between the smoke and fire and herself.

*****************************************************

Leaning against the tree, still burning from the disdain of the recruiting sergeant, Athen'a pulled out the ID card of the fallen woman.  Their eyes were almost the same color, which wasn't unusual on their planet.  Green eyes were dominant, along with Athen'a's own blonde hair.  The red hair was less usual.

Biting her lower lip, Athena stared into the eyes of the pictured woman.  The idea had been flitting through her head for weeks.  Should she?  How would she do it?  What if she got caught?

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The recruiting sergeant was dismissive of all the young girls who came through his office.  He was brusque, downright mean at times, in an effort to push them back to their families.  Scrubbing his hands through his thinning hair, he shook his head wearily.  They keep getting younger and younger.  It was hard enough watching the young boys' efforts to appear older than they were, now the girls were banging down his door.  The man looked out his window as a speeder flew past, cutting it too close to the building.

He was just trying to protect them.  All of them.  His superior, the one who had the final say in who was accepted, was rumored to be particularly fond of the young ones.  Eager, in fact, to bring them into the fleet.  The General often said that the younger they join, the more Havoc Squads he could build.

But the Sergeant knew better.  The young ones were too scared to complain or fight back.

Violently shoving away from his desk, he stomped from the office, vowing to find a way to stop the crimes happening in his own unit.

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"I was left for dead."  Athen'a was surprised by how calm she sounded.  She'd been sure her terror was palpable.  Showing up with a Storm Trooper's wallet was a capital offense.  If the General didn't believe her story, then she'd be tried as a thief.  Even if she survived the punishment, her chances at ever joining the Republican Army would be forever lost.

Dying her hair red had been the easy part; getting the exact color in the picture had been harder.  Athen'a was counting on her hope that the General had never met the dead trooper.

The General's eyes narrowed as he looked from the id card to the young woman standing in front of him.  His series of questions had yielded little information.  She claimed to have amnesia; she couldn't remember a thing.  Not even her training..?  Seemed fishy at best, but still--he wasn't a doctor.  And she was claiming to be Havoc Squad.  Probably didn't matter.  In Havoc Squads you either lived or died. 

The pressure to send up talented troops was enormous.  Havoc Squad, havoc squad; it was all he ever heard.  The demand from his superiors was nonstop.   What did it matter, really, if he sent a few less than talented troopers?  They'd die soon enough.
Besides, she was gorgeous.  Not too old, either.

His narrowed gaze turned speculative.  "Lark, eh? I think we have a spare set of armor for you..."