Critical Mass

Chapter Two

The Finalizer
The Unknown Regions

Sometimes, she dreamed.

There were fragments of images, words so muffled that they lost all form and meaning, and a feeling of warmth. None of them ever made sense, and by the time her eyes opened, she'd lost all interest in identifying their origin.

But the sound of laughter remained.

She would hear it on occasion, a light, airy thing echoing down the empty hallways or coming across her comms as she took flight into open space. It was always unexpected, and never failed to make her head turn in search for the source; it just felt so...real.

But that night, Demo's dreams had been as dark and silent as space itself. She woke before First Call, as she always did, with a clear mind and the same, silent determination that had been drilled into her since before she could remember.

Most stormtroopers were assigned to shared barracks, each receiving a single living pod that allowed enough space for them to sleep, while they shared a living space in between. Each room contained at least forty troopers at one time, eighty if the day and night shifts were combined. However, troopers of a certain rank or occupation were granted rooms. This allowed for a single bed with standing room, a personal refresher, and a closet. Knight Squadron shared a hallway with one another.

During required sleeping hours, the light switches were locked. Each room was lit with a dull, red light, dark enough to allow sleep but still enough to make sense of everything.

It was during this period that Demo would begin her day.

In the dark silence of her room, she would do push-ups and crunches on the floor, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, depending on what she felt inclined to work on. It cleared her mind, woke her body up, prepared her muscles for the day ahead. This was always the easy part.

When the lights came on and their doors unlocked, Demo was already in uniform: a deep black ensemble with red stripes on the pant legs and the arms. Her cap had the same saber patch from her flight suit. They were not wholly large distinctions from other units, but Knight Squadron were the only members of the First Order who still carried blaster rifles while in dress uniform. They were required to have them at all times, with very few exceptions; they were the same type as normal troopers, the new F-11Ds, but heavily modified, with a buttstock and an all-black coating. While in uniform, the pilots typically carried the rifles on their backs, though that did not seem to put the other members at ease.

When a member of Knight Squadron walked down the hallway, they usually found themselves unimpeded.

Following a tasteless breakfast in the mess hall – where the rest of Knight Squadron would catch up – the day would usually be filled with training, until a mission came in. Sometimes they went months on end without one, but they would always be ready.

On the easiest of days, there were sessions on new models of starships and blasters, and how they could be used to their advantage, but these were rare. Most training involved physicality. Obstacle courses, blaster training runs, flight training.

That particular day was for combatives, and while her squad mates fought one another in the training room, Demo squared off against a different foe.

Captain Phasma had nearly a foot advantage over Demo. She was larger, stronger, and about as stubborn as they came, but Demo had speed, agility, and patience on her side.

They circled one another on the floor, neither in their usual uniforms; they wore exercise attire, black tanks and shorts. Demo's hands and feet were wrapped.