Vindril had to pause for a second the moment he realized what his eyes were seeing.
Right on the left, beyond the pavilions where the students, or at least that was the impression he was under, were listening to one of the many lectures that were scheduled during their day, there were fighter ships. And pretty good ones at that.
Although hurrying to meet this aforementioned Instructor Klevaric, which he had never heard about, would have for surely been the wisest and best course of action, Vindril stopped to look at those dusty, used, full of wear and tear signs, magnificent fighters. He just couldn't help it. Every time his interest was picked, he had to see it through, even at the expense of something more important. But he didn't care.
Immediately, he noticed those were older models. Perhaps some of the second generation of the Interceptor line, but he wasn't so sure about that. The whole shape of those fighters was still in use, so it was not like they stood out, or they looked so old that they could have fallen apart at any given moment. Still, Vindril had to admit he was surprised. He had not thought the Academy would provide such…time proven fighters.
Sure, by looking inside the cockpit, which was worn out and so full of hitting marks that he wondered how the hell that thing was still ablet to properly function, he understood the need to have such older models. Even if he had accumulated very little experience in actively piloting a starship, perhaps even less than little, he could clearly tell how much abused that particular fighter was. The others scattered all around weren't that much better off to be honest, but the one he was looking over had markings all over the hull, making it stand out. He just had to wonder what kind of brute had mistreated such a magnificent piece of metal that even the hardest parts of the hull had started to appear scratched, or outright damaged.
Then again, Vindril was well aware that even unobtanium, the rarest and hardest metal of them all, could be made to bend, break, melt, and everything in between; so it wasn't all that shocking to find a hull in such a sorry condition. And he was inside the Academy, a place where the next generation of fighter pilots were relentlessly trained day after day, night after night. That had to account for something, right?
"Hey!"
A voice he didn't recognize screamed intimidatingly at him to get away from the fighters. He wasn't doing anything wrong, so he couldn't understand that out of proportion reaction. But he complied nonetheless. No point in a risking it all when he had already used so much time of his day. Better ignore that nuisance and hurry up with the meeting.
The mechanic (for that was the job that man had to do based on how he was dressed) that had screamed at him moments ago glared at him when he passed near him, carrying with him a metallic cart that looked heavier than it appeared. The ruts the wheels left behind them on the soft ground, which had been cleaned of Keelo Prime's sand, were a clear sign that was the case. A thing the mechanic, a light skinned man with a short beard, and some of the brightest brown eyes Vindril had ever seen, made sure to tell the whole world.
"Fuck this fucking cart. And fuck you too!" runted the man, looking at Vindril with fire lit eyes. There was no doubt, not even the smallest one, that he had a shitty day. And the night was still far off in the distance. Poor bastard.
"Whoa!" said Vindril, arching his eyebrows. "Chill! What the fuck is wro-"
He didn't let him finish that sentence.
"Shut up, you rotten bastard!"
Vindril barely managed to avoid the small object that man threw at him. A metallic jingle soon followed in the distance. It must have been a bolt, or a screw, or something comparable to th-
Another object came flying by, this time barely missing his head.
Now Vindril was getting pissed. What the fuck was wrong with that madman? Was looking at those old fighters worth such a mistreatment? He didn't know the answer to that. However, he surely wasn't going to subject himself to all that just because he had to maintain a good standing with the Imperial Navy. That was simply not going to happen.
"Stop!" screamed Vindril, getting ready to fight. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, but if you keep that up I'll have to-"
"Shut up, you asshole!" blurted out the man. "It's your goddamned fault I had to work on that piece of garbage all night!"
Vindril looked taken aback. What the hell was he talking about? He didn't even know him! Let alone be the cause of more work. "Look, you've got the wrong person. I don't-"
The man threw another bolt, missing him by a mile. "Fuck you! You're a bastard. And if that wasn't enough, you're not even man enough to admit your own wrongdoings. Noooo. You have to lie to my face, you mother-"
As his face contorted in a sudden fit of anger, he turned around to grab something out the depths of that cart. Whatever he was searching, it surely wasn't anything good. And Vindril didn't want to find out.
He briefly sighed. Then he quickly closed the distance that separated them, sprinting on his toned legs.
The mechanic turned out to have keen senses. Perhaps it was the very job he carried out daily that had allowed him to develop such…tuned perceptions. He side stepped the punch that Vindril tried to hit him with effortlessly. As he recovered his balance, he raised the metal tool he was gripping in his right hand, looking ready to strike. The tool hit the metal tool cart with a loud bang, denting the metal and shoving small parts up in the air.
Now Vindril understood that the mechanic had some experience when it came to fist fights, but was nowhere near his level. An orphaned childhood and a harsh galaxy to face alone had been great teachers in that regard. So much, in fact, that he almost felt grateful about it all. Almost…
The next time the mechanic tried to hit him, swinging his improvised weapon in an overly wide arch, he sprang in action.
By letting that man charge at him, Vindril just had to adopt one move that a tough guy, that had soon became friends with, had thought him during one of his many travels. He sidestepped him. Then he pivoted him using his leg as a leverage. Added with the force of the charge, the resulting impact immediately put the mechanic out of action.
"Shit." said Vindril, dusting off his clothes. The mechanic was laying there, perhaps even unconscious, but he didn't care. He had to let it all out. "I don't know who the fuck you took me for, but I'm not that person! And besides, who the fuck starts swinging without even letting the other part speak? Ah! Serves you right, asshole!"
Then he turned around and he walked off, leaving that madman alone on the hot floor. Shit, now his clothes were dirty. Better hope that Instructor wasn't a man who was going to stop at appearances, or he was fucked from the beginning.
//////
The man seated in front of him didn't exactly show off power. He simply exuded it. It was like power itself had been intertwined in his very fibers, making him a formidable foe, or a very sought out ally. But if most people in his position had been just a bunch of phonies, at least with the ones Vindril had dealt in the past, this man wasn't.
His grey eyes, that were staring at him like he could peer inside Vindril's soul, seemed distant and detached from anything that might have resembled kindness. He had not yet said even a single word, and yet he had spoken so much. How could a man be so oppressing without even doing anything? Vindril had no clue. However, he felt like he needed to rein in his sarcastic streak when speaking with him. That man was dangerous. Or creepy. Or both. Just staring into those cold eyes was giving him the creeps…
He shook away such unsettling thoughts. Now wasn't the time for that. He had a conversation to have, even if he dreaded even beginning it. So, after gaining some courage, he smiled as charmingly as he could. "Good day to you, Instructor Klevaric. I'm-"
"Just another man who's after the Empire's vast sphere of power, influence, and economic reach. You're not the first one who has come to my domain seeking to prove himself worthy to aid us. The list is long, and the necessary people we need are vastly restricted."
"…I know."
"Then you're also aware that your chances are fewer than your competitors."
"Yes."
"Then answer this…" he said looking dead serious. "Why should I choose you? What can you offer me?"
Vindril stopped for a moment. He knew that his young age was going to be a problem even before he had set foot inside that small dome, that might have felt like an oven were it not for the couple of air conditioners that were constantly purifying and puffing gusts of fresh air out. He thought what to do for a second. The most likely outcome, given who he was facing, would have made him turn back empty-handed. Instructor Klevaric looked as firm handed as he was emotionless. But then again, maybe that was just a test he was supposed to resolve. He thought about the exact words that man had just used. "What can you offer me?". Strangely, he didn't know why, but that question seemed out of character for a man such as Instructor Klevaric. He was a man that was deadly loyal to the Empire. A man that would have gone to any lengths in order to achieve whatever the Empire demanded of him. If that was the case, then that question was the key to solving it all. Or maybe Vindril was just reading too much between the lines and he was dead wrong. In any case, he just mustered up some courage and answered.
"To you? Nothing."
A barely perceptible movement appeared on the Instructor's eyebrows. "…Then why waste my time?"
"I'm not."
"…How would describe coming here empty handed, without anything to offer-"
"I never said I've nothing to offer."
"…Humour me, then. Go on. Explain."
Vindril took a deep breath, calming himself down. Time to secure that damned job, whatever that entailed.
"During my travels across the galaxy I've accumulated a great deal of knowledge and experience that will be beneficial to the Empire. Fighting, fixing stuff, shooting stuff, piloting. All of that can help the Empire, if you're interested. Because that was what you wanted to know, right? I don't have to offer you anything. I have to offer my talents to the Empire."
Silence fell inside that small dome, and Vindril began to think he had just said just a bunch of bullshit that was going to cost him that chance. His heart even felt like it was going to come out of its chest when the Instructor moved his right hand to tap his ear.
"Front gate. Do you read me?" he asked.
A fraction of a second later a man answered the call. It was the same man that had stopped Vindril before at the gate. "Yes, Instructor?"
"Don't let any other candidate pass. We have found the last piece of the puzzle."
Vindril clenched his fist in a sudden fit of joy. He also tried his best to stop the smile he could feel coming on his lips, but it was too late. He had succeeded in obtaining a spot in that job.
Ahhhh. One less thing to worry about.