STAR WARS: Gray Jedi

Chapter 2

THE SUPER STAR DESTROYER, ENDEAVOR.

Veridian Maas's training room was holo and circular, made of crystalline white walls that shone against the fluorescent lights above. He stood in the center of the room, eyes closed and concentrating, inhaling and exhaling deeply, taking control of his breath - his thoughts.  

The hum of holos came to life as his training simulation began. He opened his eyes as the holos rose in the form of charging enemies, each with a handheld melee weapon in their hand. Acting quickly, Maas lifted the bow staff he held and ducked as one of the holos swung a right hook from behind. Maas twirled and threw an uppercut with his staff against the holo's chin. The holo dismantled to virtual pieces of orange glass as it fell to the floor. More holos rose, and Maas countered, striking each gracefully, taking advantage of every opening he could expose. He struck the gut of one holo, sending it tumbling back, then struck downward on another just atop the crown of its head. Left, right and forward he struck, taking down the holos with incredible efficiency. He turned hard, bringing the staff up high for a downward strike, hitting the final holo as it charged at him from behind. The sound of his staff echoed in the room as it slashed through its body and struck the floor. 

Maas recovered himself and straightened, taking measured breaths, the simulation now over. All was silent in the room, with nothing but the sound of his heavy breath and the buzzing of electricity from the lights above. He felt good, relaxed...powerful. He enjoyed exercising. Training. The endorphins fueled him knowing he was keeping his skills sharp and fresh. Many within the upper echelon of the First Order tended to let their fighting skills taper off, getting too used to ordering their subordinates around while sitting in the metaphorical captain's chair as it were. Maas swore to himself long ago he wouldn't ever be part of that herd. War was a fire that could spark at any moment and he be damned if he let himself be caught unprepared. He prided himself on that soldier's mentality - that warrior's mentality. He was always a warrior. Ever since he was a boy. Bred to be one, and the daily routines and rituals that came with being a warrior never left him. Training, discipline, focus - they were a part of him now, part of his blood, his soul. Every fiber of his being echoed in that purpose, and the First Order was the instrument that expressed that will. 

That was most likely why the Resistance angered him so as of late. They were everything the First Order wasn't. Chaos, anarchy - everything the galaxy no longer needed. There was enough uncertainty in the universe, it didn't need more. The beings of this galaxy had suffered enough throughout the eons, and if there was something Maas could do about it, he would. 

As he stood with his thoughts, the comms speakers crackled through the walls. A woman's voiced echoed.

"Sir?" the voice uttered.

Mass recognized his first mate's voice - Commander Veranda.

"What is it Commander?" Mass replied.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir, but we've just come out of light speed. We're approaching Dodoran now."

"Understood, Commander. I'll be on the bridge shortly." he said.

"Yes, Admiral."

Maas breathed deeply. He walked over to the door that lead out of the training room and into his personal quarters. He pushed the button at its side and the door whisked open. He entered his quarters, grabbed his Officer's uniform that laid on his office chair, and began to dress.

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Mass entered the bridge of The Endeavor, fully dressed in his Admiral's uniform. Commander Veranda, a young, beautiful, and extremely capable woman, stood at attention with a datapad in hand, saluting Mass as he approached. Maas always appreciated Veranda's presence. Her punctuality, intelligence, and attention to detail were the things he could count on most in his service. In all of the uncertainty of war, Veranda was perhaps his most valuable asset.