Violia let out a low sigh, taking a few short moments to correct the new, silver bar signifying her rank upon the collar of her uniform. Lieutenant Junior Grade. Not a huge change from the Primary fleet. But when the fleet had proven as more of a recruitment symbol than an actual hard-working, proud force, she knew it just wasn't her place.
She transferred to the Secondary fleet, and signed up for the two jobs she was best at. Commanding transports, and communications. She was snatched up within a day as a communications officer by a Commander Edward Whitt. Serving well beyond most would, he was in his late fifties. A little gray and worn, he was still better off than most.
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"You worked for the LPI for.. eight years. Close to two on the communications of the prison liner 'Radiance', six more commanding it until being forced out by injury."The Commander flipped through a few sheets of paper, before turning his attention back up to Violia."What exactly was your injury, and does it still impede you?"
Violia blinked a few times, straightening her posture."A torpedo struck the bridge of the Radiance, and shrapnel from the blast nearly took my left arm off at the lower half. It does not stop me from doing anything, sir." She raises her left arm as example, clenching her fist and opening it back up again, as well as rotating her hand around on her wrist. A bit shaky, but in working order.
Whitts brows raise as he watches her, before nodding."Impressive that you managed to fly a Liberator for the last few weeks with.. a perfect record. Three bombers downed, multiple damaged fighters, and not a single hull failure on your part. He inhaled slowly through his nose."Prepare for lane travel." A voice echos over the comms, before the familiar 'tug' is felt as the Dreadnaught is propelled through the trade lane.
"Well, besides a bit of.. badmouthing of a Lieutenant above you in the Primary fleet, your record is clean from the LPI until now, and you fit the requirements as a communications officer." The Dreadnaught lurches as it comes to a sudden stop at the end of the trade lane, Violia nearly sliding out of her seat. The Commander hardly budges. "You'll be assigned under my current officer for training. This ship is a lot bigger than a Liner, and there's a few things you'll need to learn. Welcome aboard, Junior Lieutenant. You're dismissed."
Violia blinks a few more times, before coming to a quick stand, and saluting the Commander. "Thank you, sir!" She sidesteps once, and about-faces, turning on her heel. The door to his office slides open, before closing with a low hiss.
Just another job as a comms officer. She's not certain if she should be excited to be serving upon such an old vessel, or not. It's certainly not a glamorous position.
