With a training

"... therefore, it is the duty of every upright citizen of our great empire to take decisive action against the insurgents. Assist troops in your area, report rebel activity and suspicious behavior. We cannot allow these murderous scum to get away with unprovokedly attacking and destroying the galaxy's largest peacekeeping space station. Our esteemed emperor..."

"For fucks sake, turn this shit off!" you hear Parvel say, "I can't believe it. Thousands of lightyears away from the core worlds on a piece of rock where even the ground tries to eat us, but we can still receive the imperial holo news."

"Keep calm, Parvel," Marco says still cheerful, "I know you hate it, but we need to keep an ear open to the news of our enemy. Or ... do Quarren even have ears?"

"uughguughhhghghghhhgh raaaaaahhgh aaahnruh raaaaaahhgh aarrragghuuhw huuguughghg huurh (Translation for all who can't understand Wookie language: Can't they at least send some music?)" Brovar mumbles in typical wookie sounds.

You shake your head and focus back on your muscle training. Parvel is not wrong. After two months in this hostile environment, you would like to hear anything other than this imperial propaganda too. It is bad for moral. A week ago, one of your soldiers had an instrument to make music, but a giant bug ate it before you could kill it. At least this training and such pointless arguments distract your troop from the real problem. Like your decreasing supplies or that you still don't know anything about the imperial plans.

You alway train more than the rest of your team. They do it to stay in a better shape then the stormtroopers. But you do it because it is part of your livestyle. As a member of a warrior species, you need to strenghten your body somehow. But even you know, you can't go to your limits. If there is some sort of emergency, you can't just lay exhausted in the way. The rationing of your food is already enough for the nerves of your people. All this gave you the reputation as a hard, unapproachable but reliable commander.

While you focus on your trainig, you hardly notice that Maroc, your technician, approached you. You look up and wipe some sweat away. For a moment there is an awful silence, and you know why. Marco is a shy but reliable technician. He is a terrible fighter but knows everything someone can know about electricity, mechanics and chemistry. You know he sometimes tries to train with you, but he is not a match for you and rather slows you down. All the training just keeps him in shape, but he is nothing compared to the muscular rebel soldiers all the girls like so much. This makes him even more shy. And now you lay there in just a tank top and short pants, showing your stunning sixpack and your beautiful round breasts. He needs a moment to gather some bravery to talk to you.

"Can I help you somehow?" you ask harsh, "or are you just here to stare at my tits?"