A black mane with streaks of grey was tidily combed back and an Officer uniform was worn with straight seams and polished buttons. The man known as Howlader was the image of perfection and refinement until a yawn severed his focus.

"Do I bore you Sergeant?" His superior spoke with grit and discontent. "Perhaps you'll wake up in the mines of Kessel?"

The Sergeant merely shrugged his shoulders and stared blankly. "Nah, probably not."

For a long time he felt special and placed himself on a pedestal. Something stirred within, his reflexes, despite his burdening fatigue, were sharp.

"What did you say to me?"

"Sorry, I meant to say, probably not. Sir?" He grinned as his yawn faded. He had little respect for the man barking orders. For his 'superior' was merely a pawn without any combat experience. He was a wet noodle, a green-horn with good academic scores.

"If it wasn't for your piloting skills and sharp dress, you'd be out of here!" He knew that Howlader was held in high regard and viewed as an asset. In essence, he was becoming untouchable.

"What about now?" Howlader smirked, dropped his pants and tussled his hair. "Pants don't make the man, nor does ass kissing your way into leadership roles. A role you're currently just playing at."

The men in line shifted their attention to their comrade and their jaws dropped.

"Maybe I'll take that position from you, sir." He added, delivering a sarcastic salute that caused his superior's blood to boil.

Even as starships departed their designated pads and the world around them proceeded without a flicker, the world of the ranking Officer slowed to a crawl as he forced the lump in his throat down with a gulp.

"Stand down, Sergeant!"

"Stand up, Commander. Be a man!" Shouted the pantsless one. "Were at war and you want to run drills from that brand new datapad of yours?!"

"I, I-"

"I'll fight this whole war, as I stand." Howlader yawned again. "But you have to give me those bars." He growled, jabbing the Commander in the chest with his index finger.

"How dare y-"

"Eh, shut up." Howlader continued as the men surrounding him became riled with rebellion and flocked to the man they wanted to fly with, fight with, die with.

Shouts and jeering filled the courtyard as the men grabbed the Commander and forced him to his knees.

"This is my armada now." Spoke Howlader as that familiar energy lifted his soul with torrents of energy.

With two fingers, Howlader plucked the bars from the sniveling Commander's breast coat and pinned it to his own disheveled uniform.

"Send him to Kessel." Howlader sneered and threw his arms into the air. "To war!"

"But sir, your pants." One of the men pointed.

Howlader burst out into laughter before shifting into a steely gaze.

"A promise is a promise, ensign."

Newfound loyalty was found that day and Howlader stayed true to his word. His men would follow him to hell and back. Not because he was an Officer. But because he was one of them. It didn't matter what one looked like, only that they had the balls to stand up and face off with the status quo.