, 06:37 PM
A Brief Break
Dorne had cleared Jorgan–his wound had healed, and when she took him to the Thunderclap’s small shooting target, he scored at one hundred percent accuracy.
Dorne called Prudii into the medical bay while she stocked supplies, and looked down on the four datapads beside her.
“Sir,” she said. “I have noticed the other men in the squad have been falling behind in their reports. Especially Sergeant Vik,” she said with a rueful smile.
“That needs addressing,” Prudii said.
“Yes,” she said. “Indeed. I will send them out to do so immediately, with your permission.”
Prudii raised an eyebrow. “You know, that means we have some alone time on this ship.”
Dorne nodded. “Yes, I suppose I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Get to it,” Prudii said.
She nodded and sent the men out.
* * *
Jorgan huffed and looked down at his report list. This was totally–number of Imps killed on the Gauntlet mission?–ridiculous! How was he to know how many he’d killed? He’d been comatose for the last half of the battle!
He rolled his eyes and walked out of the small cantina under the Senate tower where he’d decided to do the work. He stuffed the datapad in his belt.
When he reached the Thunderclap, he stormed in, huffing.
“Dorne!” he called. “Get in here! Blast it Dorne, where are you?”
He walked into the medbay and saw Prudii and Dorne kissing gently. He blushed, removed his helmet, and saluted.
Prudii looked up, embarrassed. “Captain.”
“I just…I finished the reports.”
Dorne nodded. “Yes, of course you did…ten full minutes faster than I expected.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I just…I kind of guessed at the number of Imps killed on the Gauntlet. I was, after all, out cold.”
“It is I who should apologize,” Dorne replied.
“No, no.” Jorgan rubbed his forehead. “I should have realized you wanted time alone. I…I’ll go.”
“Sir!” Forex called from the ship entrance. “General Garza just called. She has assigned us our next mission.”