Rhegent´s Reign: Over Victory



“Now it's important to make sure you synchronize your fighter's personal identification with the rest of your flight. You don't want to end up firing on your own wingman.”

A wave of laughter was met with an arched eye brow. The pale blue lips bunched up in mock disapproval. The dying light from the Abrae evening flooded into the lecture theatre bathing the handful of Naval pilots in a shallow orange hue. Despite their few numbers the room was humid from an over-worked heating unit that whirled just below audibility above them high in the grand carved rafters of the Vast Empire's Naval headquarters and training base. Outside the ornate window panelling, all shards and etched testament to grandeur, the bitter cold wind roared past. The lecture theatre was located high up in one of the central towers of the VEN complex, like a spire built to honour the  gods of Imperial star-fighters. The delicately crafted windows where protected from the harsh climate outside by carefully engineered energy shielding system. If not, Cali'reharn and the latest pilots to fall under her command would be cut to shreds in an eddying storm of glass. Their skin decorated with tiny shards like the sprinkling of a morning's frost. Such morbid tangential thoughts plagued the Twi'lek squadron commander frequently. It was worse when she was alone, at least now she had the pretence of pedagogical pursuit to distract her.

Behind her haloed silhouette a large intimating  holo-view displayed a schematic plan of a standard Schimtar TIE-Interceptor control console. The design was simplistic but elegant in execution. In the centre the tactical read out screen or HUD at first seemed inadequate to relay the sufficient data a pilot would need in the split-second conditions of a live  star-fighter engagement.  She knew, however, it was an invaluable oracle for all the vital information that could decide whether a pilot lived or died. Like an ancient tablet from some ancient priest-hood it bespoke a pilot's fate it laid down certain commandments for fighter pilots allowing them to put blind faith in it's almost mystical ability to lead their way through battle.  With all ordained scripture it was susceptible to misinterpretation, to an incorrect reading that could lead the unwise pilot to demise all eternal.

Cali assumed that even the freshest of pilots would have some familiarity with the layout the fighter that was arguably the backbone of the VEN's efforts. She wanted to make sure, however, and reinforce to her pilots the importance of that familiarity. Often when she slept she could feel beneath her conciousness the physical imprint of the yoke and switches that caused her palms to tingle as she battled her astral adversaries. It was unnerving to awake to find herself with her hands tightly clenched into a ball as if her dream-self was resisting the pilot's urge to fight.

The wind outside would not relent.

The brood of pilots occupied a couple of the front rows of seats. A few of them lent back lazily in their chairs whilst others sprawled over the make-shift desks of their laps. A tall black Zabrak whose muddied brown intent stare on the screen behind Cali betrayed a maturity and sense of age beyond his appearance sat bolt upright hanging on to her every syllable. His face was awash in  what to Cali seemed indecipherable scrawl. Markings, no doubt she thought, of prestige in Iridonian culture, rites of passage surely denoting some display of excellence in some obscure physical combat. All very well and good but it did not matter a jot if he could not handle a star-fighter.  He had not laughed like the rest of them instead as their chuckles had faded he had  merely shot a far glance out into the developing storm outside.

“Tell me something I don't know.” A rasp hiss came from someone who certainly did not need to be briefed in such obvious pleasantries as star-fighter orientation; one tall gangly Falleen, Rorran Gorma.

This response elicited uncertain laughter from some of the newer pilots, trying to gauge their squadron commander's approval of such an outburst. She threw the  curled slouched figure a rueful stare and with a stroke of the lectern keypad froze the schematic beaming behind her..  She had not served with a Falleen before but given that the race had such strong associations with the Black Sun Crime Syndicate she found it hard for her blood to remain unboiled when dealing with members of the species; and she thought she was miscast by her own racial trappings. 

“Of that I am of no doubt Gorma...” She began keeping her tone icy.

“Ma'am please, call me Slasher.” He spread a lizard's smile beaming a set of sparkling fangs.

“Rorran, perhaps you would like tell those new to navy's work the importance of avoiding friendly fire scenarios.” She continued with a stony patience flicking her tongue against her own canines in a subtle display of irritation.

To her chagrin, Slasher leapt out of his chair with alarming agility. His slender hands thrust towards the high beamed ceiling he threatened to break the fragile shielding system with his energetic enthusiasm.

“Well! Back during the hostilities at Lehon, we had all manner of confusion and whole irrigation farm of sithspit, if you'll excuse my Wookie, to swim through. To make matters worse those Rebel cut-throats had spiced us with some rogue Interceptor.. You can imagine this what not your typical core-world cock-tail of Coruscanti lift boys. Oh no!” As he delivered his soliloquy he had managed to pivot his frame across several rows of unoccupied seats and to her mild horror the creature was now brandishing a some exotic but nonetheless lethal looking sword for dramatic emphasis.  A young Twi'lek woman, all radiant green and porcelain figure, looked petrified at the Falleen's gesticulations.

“The whole expeditionary New Republic task force had shown up with bells and whistles. Why, my old squadron buddies in Nazgul could hardly believe it. To top off all our worries, apart from a certain megalomaniac Wing Commande and his dispositions, the lowly rebels had snuck a couple of partisan squints into the mix.” Slasher delivered the last line singularly balanced on one leather-clothed foot all the while his torso gyrated all akimbo. He was more sprightly than the fighter's he was recalling.

“He's talking about our own beloved Interceptors Rhegents.” Cali interjected non-committally as Slasher continued through his pirouettes. The orange light that had bathed the pilots was fading with each exhilarating syllable the Falleen through into the air.

Cali recast her mind back as Rorran continued to paint a history that for many concerned was still too recent to process beyond physical pain. The fall-out had yet to be fully felt amongst the once great Vast Empire Navy.

-------------------------

“A misspelling.” Amongst the incessant chatter of desk clerks and assistant droids running on assistant errands, Cali stared at the durasheet one of the many desk clerks in the intensely white room was brandishing in front of her.

Before replying the fresh-faced but vaguely disinterested clerk flashed the sheet around to their own dull glazed over.  The pupils dilated ever so slight.

“Oh my. I do believe you are correct Chief Ree'arn. Must have been one the knuckle-heads up at administration. Bunch of typing pool droids, I doubt their circuits have seen the hands of engineer since the time of the Hyper-wars.” The eyes squinted as they returned to focus on Cali's irritated half-smile. The man sucked his teeth  in a clear sign that Cali was not about to like what he had to say.

“You see Ma'am all the data's gone through and what with the new wing been cobbled together faster than a nerf herder getting his livestock out for market season the whole process has been streamlined.” Behind him a large clumsy looking droid walked straight into the desk of one unfortunate clerk. The clatter, cursing and mess of files represented for Cali a  small re-balancing of the universes scales. “Now, I could try and take it with them upstairs but I'm not sure who much that would slow down the process.” His tone suggested that this what not be a good thing to do at all.

Sighing inwardly, Cali considered the implications of potentially postponing the launch of the Navy's newest star-fighter wing on their grounds that somebody, somewhere at misread the squadron details she had put forth.  It had been to be Rheagent's Reign but now in front of her embossed on durasheet was the name Rhegent's Reign. Cali could practically feel the red-tape strangling her neck. She knew her Wing Commander, Lieutenant Commander Geordi Atrasin would not be happy with any delay. Her exchange with him after his stint recuperating into his new metallic form of machine and malice had left her with a sense of dread that she had yet to shake free from. More electro-magnetically charged warmongering had seemed to brew behind the imposing man's eyes as she had stood there and taken his histrionics in her post-Lehon dressing down. 

Cali had witnessed his cold-blooded actions as he had unleashed his weapon's systems against Ibram Tyrol's faultering TIE-Interceptor over  the gassy giant Geraps Sule. Dumbfounded in horror she had been unable to prevent her squadron's commander destruction, his merciless culling from military politics and the end to a feud of ideas that had spanned long before Cali's own recruitment to the Naval cause. Her direct superior, Atrasin, had made it clear to her that he would not tolerated such insubordination from her and her newly commissioned squadron. It had been a back-handed compliment when she had been given the task of heading up a new star-fighter s squadron. A survivor's spoil, a hollow honour that mocked all those that had perished at Lehon, least she forgot the citizens of Sarjah for no understandable reason had been wiped off the universe's time-sheet for the purpose of the Vast Empire's geo-political manoeuvring. Cali, however, had learned that  universe's path  was a twisted labyrinth and her own personal end destination was obscured by the path's rapid descent into chaos. She was resolute not to lose her way. Amidst the propaganda, distorting of fact, the shades of grey, the rhetoric of Atrasin lay some distinguishable kernel of fate. The navy protected her. It was a network that span out tendrils in a fine web providing the wayward Twi'lek with some offer of shelter. A system of hard-line nurture. As his mechanical limbs had flexed in Imperialistic agitation and impatience to get out to big black to take revenge, both personal and military, Cali had recognized her Wing Commander's movements as belonging to some age-old dance. The dance of death. The little freakish shimmy that determined her and her pilot's mortality.  In such a plight, morality would have to take the co-pilot's seat. If Cali could spread a small wing of her own protection to those around her, it might at some point in the universe's sense of justice meet a fine uniformed point of balance.

The droid was shakeably re-stacking the mound of datapads it had knocked over whilst the disgruntled worker mopped the spilt caf from his standard issues slacks. That stain would be them for a good while knowing the Naval's favouring of extra cheap, extra absorbent materials. The clerk in front of Cali's furrowed brow tapped the side of his own datapad in a mixture of impatience and distraction.

“Well Chief,” Cali turned her furrowed expression into a focused scowl on the poor clerk's part. “W-w-h-what will it be?” No matter her intentions to burn a new nova into the back of the clerk's underpaid head Cali softened her expression into resignation.

“Rhegent's Reign will be just fine for my purpose.” She allowed herself to smile whilst the universe stacked credit chips against her and the Reign.

------------------

“...and that is why I'm now proud owner of FreiTek top of the line E-wing.” Slasher was still conducting his own slight variation on the dance macabre. Cali dimmed the schematic display behind her causing the auditorium to fall into a sombre shade of brown.

“Didn't they dock that thing from you?” Ghost, a tall  wise looking Falleen, a natural rival to Slasher quipped with a rueful and calculated smile.

“Alight, alight!  Rorran, thank you very much for your rousing demonstration, of the importance of checking your system's indemnification protocol. Didn't we class?” Cali inflected the last phrase to invite the rest of the groups consideration. This elicited a rare smile from the pale skinned Zabrak, Arthur Dragon, one of the few other survivors from Lehon and not one for giving too much of himself away. Cali suspected this was the key to his survival. The cross of bravery he now wore raggedly on his arm suggested more than his reserved demeanour.

Slahser though crestfallen that his performance was over  gracefully returned to his seat having to Cali's relief re-sheathe that unfathomably gruesome looking implement. He threw his fellow Falleen a venomous glance, Cali herself was unaware as to the fate of Slasher's accosted star-fighter but she somehow doubted that the Navy's Logistic Department would allow something so valuable go to waste as a trinket.  The group each wore the signs of lethargy, a young human wearing a particularly  bright yellow tunic was close to the touching the astral plain. His position half-slumped forward over the share in front of him. Pilots where never at their best when given the prison of free-time but Cali was determined to make sure her brood knew the ropes, especially the new bloods. Above all, she wanted to instil the importance of not taking those ropes for granted.

“Ok Rhegent,”  So much for the Rheagent's Cali mused lightly to herself. “You've got all that Abrae can offer you in your reach. The jewel of the Navy's crown with the finest in all possible avenues. My personal recommendation, however, is sleep. You won't be getting these mattresses shipped with you once we're assigned to theatre so make the most of them. We shall reconvene for further orientation tomorrow at say a respectable hour.” Cali could feel the wave of relief as each of the pilots shoulder's shank at the prospect of a free morning to recover.

“In battle we reign over in victory. Dismissed.” The pilots rose to their feet. Darian Rogue, the man for a taste in yellow shirts even managed a lazy salute as he slunk out of the grand auditorium. Cali nodded as the pilots all shuffled past onto their various destination. She could guarantee that some of them would not find sleep for suspect reasons. Finally as she powered the holo-screen down completely, a familiar face came into her line of vision. Two green eyes in which tempests could stir in an instance. Cadie Reese. Back in the star-fighter wing after the events of Viper and a certain Intelligence officer. Serving with Cali, who once she had almost punched her lights out. A relationship that been served icy at room temperature. Now over, she greeted Cali with a meek smile, the small scar cracking slightly above her scarlet lips.

“Looks like you could do with a rest to boss.” Cali nodded in agreement as the both fell into a slow measured step towards the exit.

“But maybe a cup of caf or whatever it is you pass for liquid nourishment.”  Cali smirked at Cadie's reference to her preference of her herbal infused drinks, not to everyone's taste and certainly not her fiery X/O.

“Mine aren't as bad as Arthurs.” They both chuckled. Cali waved her hand over the light sensor as they left the auditorium casting the grandeur of the Navy into darkness.

OOC:

Ok Rhegent's this is it. Our first story, for now I want to see lots of C/D and interaction. To move forward I want everyone to do what I said and treat Abrae as your oyster. So you've got an evening on the town, in your quaters, in the Naval compound, whereever (within reason). Just make sure you're able to make the meeting :P

Thane paid close attention to what his Squadron Commander was saying, he was more than capable of taking out targets on the ground, but being a fighter pilot was still new to him. Thane knew a few moves that saved him before, but Cali was saying was new and vital information that he needed. The storm that was blowing up outside made some of his squadron mates stare out the window, Thane sat in the same position, completely up right, and focused on the view screen ahead of him. Most of the people here are younger than Thane, and tend to goof off during a class like this. He might have done the same at that age, but since the age of six, Thane was trained as an assassin, no goofing allowed. Thane watch as Cali went over on how to avoid friendly fire. When a Falleen interrupted, the man was obviously a VEN veteran, and knew this material already. After a few more minutes of lecture and random laughter from the class, Cali dismissed everyone from the room; she also informed her squadron that they had the rest of the night to themselves.

Thane moved slowly out of the room, and watched several of his fellow squadron mates rush off to the cantina, Thane laughed to himself shaking his head.

“Hey Rios!” yelled someone from the crowd shuffling to the cantina
“The Cantina is this way man!” exclaimed one of his squadron mates laughingly.

“You guys go on, I’ll catch up later.” Said Thane with a smile, He thought it was a horrible idea to get all boozed up before a mission, reaction time would be hindered greatly, a pilot’s judgment would slip, along with his ability to fight. Thane would go to the cantina later, to meet the rest of his fellow Rhegents, but for right now he needed some alone time.


He made his way to the barracks where he and several other flight members slept. Thane changed out of his uniform and into a simple pair of black fatigues. Thane left the room, and went into the gym. The gym was filled with machines, ranging from bench press, to free weights; several tred-mills lined the wall. The room its self was enormous, there was ring for people to spar in, several punching bags, any equipment Thane could think of, and they had it. There was even a large track surrounding the gym, everything was in pristine condition.  Thane worked out on several upper and lower body machines increasing the weight after each set. After a rigorous workout, Thane made his way to where the track started and began jogging. As he ran he though long and hard about the colorful story that Slasher had told, which made him think about his past. Thane picked up speed, but he didn’t notice. The Zabrak just kept running, not even noticing he was on his 3rd lap.

Leaving the hall in which Cali had been lecturing the squadron, Slasher heads to his apartment. He is in a foul mood, and isn't sure exactly what the Navy is trying to do to him. He had returned from the last mission, and found himself assigned to Rhegent's Reign as a Flight Member. Pretty quickly after this assignment, the Squadron Commander had asked him to become one of the Flight Leaders, and he had agreed, then all of a sudden orders had come in from Command ordering him to report to a new squadron as its XO, and giving him a promotion to Warrant Officer Second Class. However no sooner had he packed his bags than he had received further orders instructing him to remain with Rhegent's Reign, because the other squadron was being closed. So he had unpacked his bags, now as just a Flight Member in the squadron after another pilot was promoted into the Flight Leader spot.

Hmm, all of this red tape and paperwork, I wish they would just give me something to fight, instead of pushing me around from one unit to another.

Arriving at his apartment, Slasher unlocks the door, entering and seeing everything is in exactly the right places, his droids having taken good care of everything in his absence. Quickly he walks out of the front room of his apartment and into the bedroom, where he quickly takes off the uniform he has been wearing for weeks and looks through his closet trying to select a cleaner uniform that he can wear when he goes out in the evening. However, seeing that none of his evening dress uniforms have been updated yet with his new awards and his new rank, he calls to his protocol droid,

"3PO, Have any of my evening dress uniforms been updated with my new rank and the additional awards yet?"

"Yes Master, I updated one of them and it is hanging currently in the refresher, where you can change into it before going out. I'll be updating the rest of your uniforms as soon as I can, there was a minor problem on base getting the necessary insignia and such."

"Well just see to it that it is done."

"Yes Master"

Slasher quickly exits his bedroom and enters the main section of the apartment, removing his pistol belt and returning each of his weapons to their proper places within the front room of the apartment, which looks more like an arsenal than a sitting room, but given the fact that Slasher rarely entertains, is a better use of the room for him, and it makes it easy for him to grab any number of weapons very quickly should he be called out on a mission, and he doesn't need to go to the armory to check out equipment.

As he heads into the refresher Slasher calls out, "3PO, have there been any messages left for me while I've been away?"

"No Master, no messages have been left, several people have attempted to contact you, but all of them declined to leave messages, saying that they would contact you at a later time."

"Do you still have their contact codes?"

"Of course Master,"

"Then alert them that at least for the time being I have returned, and if any of them attempt to contact me here, route the call to my comlink, as I will be out this evening."

Quickly washing and shaving, glad to get the grime of his most recent deployment off of him, Slasher reaches over and grabs the uniform hanging there, with the different awards and service patches showing where he has been in his recent travels, his hand pauses over the Shadow of Lehon, momentarily slipping back in his mind to that horrific battle. On a whim he grabs his comlink and contacts the commanding officer of the Horn of Victory, "Captain Drinktako, come in,"

Within seconds the gruff voice of the Assault Frigates commanding officer responds, "Admiral, I haven't heard your voice in a while, we weren't sure if you survived that debacle at Lehon."

"I survived Captain, but how did you know about that?"

"Admiral please, you know how our men are, they aren't happy unless they are breaking some code, we were listening the entire time, and more than a few of us wanted to get in on the action."

"Well here's your opportunity for some action, if you were tracking the battle, you probably saw what they did with their forces after we withdrew, what is your condition at present regarding capability to carry out a ground action?"

"Between all ships we can land a force of 340 Marines, and we should be able to handle anything which tries to engage us in space."

"Very well, I want a reprisal mission carried out, keep me appraised of the action, carry out as much destruction as you can, but withdraw if they bring in to may reinforcements for you to handle."

"As ordered sir."

Slasher quickly returns the comlink to it's holder on the belt and pulls on the Evening Dress Uniform, returning to the front room of the apartment, he grabs his S-5 and places it in the holster at his side, then turning to his 3PO he says,

"Alright 3PO, I'm heading out for the evening, if anyone needs to speak to me, you know how to reach me."

"Yes Master, should I requisition bacta from the medical division for this evening?"

"No 3PO, it isn't gonna be that bad a night, I don't intend to start any bar fights tonight."

"Yes Master, then the supply we have her should be sufficient for your injuries this evening."

"Whatever 3PO,"

Slasher leaves his apartment, locking the door behind him, and sets off into the night, looking for a place to get a drink.

"Is that the best you can do, Thane?" Cadie's breathing was ragged as she wiped a drop of blood from her lip while continuing to circle the zabrak. They had met up in the gym a while ago, after Tinker's caf with Cali she needed to blow off some steam. Sparring seemed like a great way to do that and get to know one of her new squadronmates. Of course the fact that he actually seemed to know how to fight made it all the more fun.

"Ma'am, I think we should stop, your lip is already bleeding."

Cadie didn't miss a beat she went with a left jab to the abdomen, which Thane had to jump to avoid, then followed it up immediately
with a right hook to the jaw. She beamed in victory as her fist connected with his jaw. He paused for  a moment then he saw Cadie prepare to hit him again he grabbed her wrist, twisting it in the air which sent her spiraling to the mat. She grimaced thinking to herself, "like hell I'll let him see that this hurts like asonofabitch."

"Okay, maybe a short break." She managed to mutter out under her breath. He immediately let her out of the hold. She collapsed to her knees and rubbed her sore wrist, but after a half-hearted glare at Thane she returned to her feet. The tall man nodded and walked towards the locker room. Once she was sure he was out of ear shot and nobody else was around she winced from her sore wrist and inspected the cut on her lip. "Ouch, damn."

A half hour later she emerged from the female locker room dressed and ready to check out the nightscene, not that she had even a clue as to where she would end up. As long as they served whiskey she would be fine, and since Cali wasn't around to know all the better.

"Hey Tinker!" The same slender green skinned twil'ek from earlier was quickly approaching her.

She was still trying to get some stubborn water out of her left ear as she spoke. "Maroy, right?" The young girl nodded frantically. "Heh, what brings you to the gym today?"

"Well I heard about this Casino in town, it sounds amazing. I was kinda looking for someone to go check it out with me."

Cadie finally gave up on the ear and tossed her towel across the room. "Sounds like fun, lets go." She started walking towards the exit without a second thought, until she reached the door and realized the crewman was still standing there dumbfounded. "Well, you coming? You are the one who knows where we are going after all."

Maroy jumped and scurried to join Cadie at the entrance, together they exited into the night. The city wasn't too terribly large. It didn't span farther than the one street really. They walked passed the closed merchants and various night clubs that had taken over the business when the moon came out. The Casino was a large brightly lit building at the far end of the street. Instead of music pouring from its doors, sounds of clanking coins and bells could be heard. In truth, the noise of casino's always irritated Cadie. There were quite a few of them back on Nar Shadda, mostly run by the hutts. So in addition to being noisy they also smelled.

"This is going to be amazing, don't you think?" Maroy seemed very excited about going to the casino, her enthusiasm made Cadie smile, even though she couldn't understand what was so exciting.

"Right, lets see if they have a bar."

"You're not gambling?"

Cadie looked at the machines oddly for a few moments. She had spent many a credit in places like this, she probably was a major contributor to many hutt families back home. Since joining the navy her taste for gambling had decreased. An odd game of sabacc here and here for change, but she never played for big money and rarely touched the machines. "No. Feel free to spend your money if you choose, I'm going to the bar there I know I'll get something I'll enjoy for my money."


The servebot was prompt and brought her the whiskey she ordered, which was a good thing, slow servebots tended to be broken by her hand. But all that really did was give her work for the morning when the bar owner made her repair or replace them. "I'll buy the next round."

Cadie's green eyes narrowed at the man in his officer's uniform standing next to her at the bar. She really hated the ones that wore their dress uniform to pick up women, it simply showed a lack of originality. Not to mention the fact that most women stupidly fell for the technique, which just made her feel sorry for her gender. "I've got my own money to spend thanks."

"Cadie who's this?" Dammit now he knows my name, noobs meh.

Tinker downed her drink and ordered another one then turned to look at Maroy. "Don't know, and before you try to tell me I don't care."

The dark haired human smirked and winked at Maroy. "What squadron are you two lovely ladies in?"

Cadie almost choked on her whiskey when her Twil'ek companion actually answered the man.

"Rhegent's huh? Cali'reharn's group right? Any word on missions upcoming missions?"

Maroy was about to keep talking but Cadie, not so gently, put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back away from the man. "Look, that's quite enough. You are going to shove off now, goodbye."

"I like it here, I think I'll stay."

Cadie growled and stepped even closer, her hands balled into fists and her shoulders tense. "I think you are leaving."

"Excuse me, but is there a problem here?" Thane was standing behind the officer with his arms crossed. Tinker had no clue how he got there, or how he knew that she was at the casino, but for now they had more important things to worry about. Like who this guy was and why in the hell he wanted to know so much about the squadron.

The cold night raged outside the modest quarters that had been assigned to Cali'reharn. With her rise to squadron commander she technically benefited from an increase in living space; giving that Cali had to sleep with half of her dura-sheet records as she lacked any storage place for the reams and reams of data she had to now consider. Extra data-work was also another responsibility that came with the new territory. She had barely gotten through the commissioning files concerning Rhegent's placement in Javelin Wing and already Cali felt as if things where getting away from her. There where bound to be new recruits that needed placement and yet more orientation, the squadron's classification had still be vetted and on top of that there was usual rigmarole concerning the squadron's Imperial dressings: squadron colours, insignia all that outdated regal paraphernalia. Even though it was an exercise in tedium Cali appreciated the significance of trying to do things right and by the correct procedures. It was a relief given her prior experience with the blurring of morals and duty to have to address things in such a formal manner. Such a method suited her desire for order. She felt that this desire was the only driving force regulating her days, her actions and her thought. To be able to construct a clear framework of logic, to plot the clear path for her squadron through the quagmire of bureaucracy and political power play.  Cali would not allow the 153rd Rhegent's Reign to fall prey to outside influence, they would not be a puppet for the inter-department bickering rife within the navy. If she maintained proper etiquette maybe the squadron could scrape back some sense of Imperial duty. At least that is what she hoped for as she ran her  tired eyes down another ream of data concerning the squadron's lease.

The brewing storm from earlier that evening had finally hit city, beneath her slit of a window Cali could see streaks of freezing rain hammer the gleaming asphalt of the various walk-ways the snaked around the various spire-like complexes that reached towards the night sky. It was hardly the vertigo inducing vista of the core-world planets but with VE's expansion and accumulated prosperity the VE had managed to carve out a mini-citadel of modest grandeur. Unlike the beating and destruction that Tadath had seen at the hands of Grand Admiral Thawn's behest, Abrae and the Vectra system in general had remained unscathed from the Imperial Remnant's anger. As a result there had been a renewed resolve from the High Council to strengthen the role Abrae and the Naval Headquaters could play  within the corridors of power. There where whispers that those that had been at Tadath blamed the Navy's preoccupation  with  backwater border skirmishes then defending the Empire's real interest and providing a core defence network.  Whispers on the wind carried a mixture of betrayal and blind optimism in casting the Navy's role in a fresh, dignified light against their previous failings. It was far above Cali's sphere of authorisation or rank, a couple of unsecured holo-channels spoke of a disagreement among the the Naval High Command itself, a splintering of ideals in terms of how the Navy should act; as primarily a defence fleet or more aggressively. A new task force to be launched of newly equipped capital ships to act as a curtain of fire power against any encroaching hostile factions. All such information was held in scepticism from Cali's point of view though she was not as naïve as to deem her role as lowly squadron commander as an excuse to absolve herself from her role and influence within such a shape-shifting organism. She kept certain unreliable but revealing feeds close to her on the data-network, employing her limited splicing skills with a sleep depriving persistence to ensue she had some tabs on the VEN's future. It served one well to have interests outside the standard protocol of following orders. Do things correctly to the smallest of details but do not be blinkered by such routines. A blipping sound on her cracked data-pad indicated a new update, maybe the latest from one of her solicited sources. Cali thumbed the device running her tongues against her incisor fangs with distraction but her eyes fell flat upon opening the message:

//****Imperial Officer's Banquet****

This evening at the Crimson Plaza to commemorate our fallen brethren in acts of nobility in celebrations of the Navy's valiant efforts.

All in attendance strictly uniform.

Fresh platter of Mon-Calamari bait fin

***//

The thought made Cali's stomach turn on many levels. She would pass up on that chance.

The neon blaze from the entertainment district emanated in the near horizon, like embers dying beneath a cauldron of cast iron  black. No doubt some of Cali's own pilots had headed towards that glowing light of cheap credits, drink and fool's wisdom.  She did not judge those that chose to fritter away their free time on the bottom of beverage tankard. Abrae lacked the cultural refinements of other cities under the VE's control; besides, Cali mused, what did flyboys know about culture. The evening traffic of personal hovers and transports had given away to the few stray cargo freighters that operated throughout the night. Bringing in the need supplies to run the hub of all the Navy's operations, the freighters where a constant feature of the Abrae skyline. Bulky containers carrying resources, materials, junked fighters, a new bridge recliner for some over-medalled Admiral and perhaps even the odd unfortunate prisoner headed straight for the clawing obelisk tower that was home the Vast Empire's Naval Intelligence department.  An involuntary shudder caused Cali to flick her lekku in irritation, it was a gesture that covered her true fear of that organization. A necessary evil for an Empire to survive, an escalating arms war of information required even Imperial honour to dabble in the black arts of intelligence. Cali had always found it odd that the humans had chosen to name the act of betrayal, interrogation and truth distortion under the umbrella term of intelligence. Though such methods required a certain level of logic and planning it was not what she considered to be a noble pursuit of intelligence, just a mining of deep inexhaustible ruthlessness.

Cali rubbed her hand against the hollows of her eyes to rid herself of the growing weariness she felt creeping over her. She wanted to be fresh for tomorrow's next orientation lecture. With a dismayed look she cast an eye to a pile of files that represented her disorganized notes for the presentation.  It was familiar stuff to most that would be attendance but she preferred to keep the squadron out of the sims and in the lecture theatre for the time being. She had been for the past cycles now trying to use her limited influence to wrangle the Rhegent's some space time up at the VEN's training facility based amongst the nearby asteroid belt. So far, however, Cali's request had been stone-walled at every turn but that would not deter her. She would rather have the Rhegent's out in real vacuum then pulling turns in the simulators. The sims deadened a pilots instincts and reflexes, Cali was especially keen to get her newer recruits into a real cockpit of an Interceptor. Until she managed to secure the green light she would rather have her pilots kept on edge. Use that stir-crazy frustration with being planet side to bring out the best and worst in her group. It was during those tense times that pilots truly bonded and those not fit to fly, crack. Cali, herself, was hardly itching to get back into that dura-steel tomb. Lehon had pushed her piloting skills and her physical limits to the extreme. She shook at the thought of being back in her flight suit. She found herself anxiously nibbling her right thumb-tip.

“Frotz!” She exclaimed out loud leaping off her chair as the realisation dawned.

She was scared and she was allowing that to put off flying again. In turn it was influencing her conduct of the Rhegent's.

“Frotz, frotz...” She muttered to herself softly shaking her half-eaten hand down by her side. She ended up the movement with a little flutter of nervous laughter. Cali had to get the Rhegent's up in the air or she would find herself the first to crack. Not a good precedent to set she thought self-mockingly.
The wind had picked up now and being this high up within the spire of the building, the howling was increasingly loud. Her quarters where only a few floors down from the satellite and communication array at the spire tip that creaked and swayed at the wind's unrelenting behest. Cali found herself leaning against the small crack that passed for her window. Below, a convoy of freighters hovered towards the main Naval depot far into the depths of the planet's mined core. Protected from the threat of aerial bombardments. Cali's quarters felt part of some inverted giant icicle, the first thing that would shatter in such an attack. If Cali allowed herself to tune into the subtle rumbling of the freighters' repulsor engines and the ebbing creak of the coms-array above her she would feel the slow crack of her own being. She shut herself off from that mental crevice and resolved to make a fresh brew of herbs.

Navigating the crash-site of her quarter's floor she cupped a handful of dried brown herbs onto the surface of her food-preparation unit. She placed a couple in a larger glass beaker and placed it in the small alcove to the right of the counter. Dialling in the boiling protocol she rested the small of her back against the counter surface. The unit besides her hummed to live and the familiar aroma of stewing herbs filled the confines of her quarter. Her eyes rang along the contents of her belongings, besides the stack of data-files and data-pads there was not much that materially made up Chief Warrant Officer Cali'reharns life. She had placed the sleeper on the floor removing it from the bunk on the right of her room. Cali preferred being close to the floor, closer to the earth, closer to the vibrations. It also meant she had freed up more space and was using the excavated bunk as make shift closet. A myriad of military combats laid piled atop of one another, the sleeves positioned in mysterious gestures as if imploring for help. Laying on top of one particularly faded pair of khakis was her personal DC-17 hand blaster looking equally faded and scuffed. It had not been fired in a long time. The unit chimed to indicate that herbal infusion had brewed sufficiently, the single toned sound took Cali back to a smoke filled corridor that was shaking violently beneath her feet. It was the main hull of an A-A5 cargo transporter. Cali had set foot in many during her time working for  Procopian Transportation Ministry. A familiar beast of burden good for transporting almost anything conceivable. The most recent occasion Cali had found her self aboard however the A-A5 had been carrying a cargo of the dead.

“Joles!” It was the sound of Cali's own voice. Hoarse and choking back the smoke infested her lungs, her  whole sense had the sensation of burning. The name was uncanny in being familiar to her but she could not place a face.

Her footing gave way beneath the greasy grating of the cargo transport and she feel through the smoke.

The chime from the food-processor rang out again. Cali's green eyes snapped open. Her quarters where neither full of smoke or burning. Her tea stood simmering on the off-white shelf of the food-processor. The fine tips of her lekku vibrated furiously and her head throbbed. Cali almost lost herself in a faint but the reassuring aroma of her tea brought her to her senses. Had it really been that recent, Cali thought. Countless feelings just out of her comprehension lingered above her conciousness she could feel her mouth a gape that only added to the sense of disorientation. At the other end of her small quarters, her data-pad glowed with a fresh message. Though to Cali the light seemed like a smear of the faintest source of light strewn at the back of an endless cavern. With considerable effort and clasping her tea like a flight-suit life persevere she hobbled over to her desk.
A shaky thumb brought up a message that only twinged her senses with a certain overwhelming crescendo.

//****
Lt. Commander Geordi Atrasin requests your attendance at the holo-chamber now.

Out.

****//

“Frotz!” Third time, the incantation almost shattered her sense of self.

Cali took a long drain of her bitter tea and headed towards the exit.

She sensed it would be a long night.

“Well, now that you’re here what are we going to do?” asked Maroy

Thane was about to answer when Tinker answered for him.

“We are going to do what, we were going to do before that creep showed up.” Replied Tinker

Maroy finished her drink, while Cadie down an expensive shot of whiskey, Thane stood and watched in amazement, of how much the woman could drink. Every now and then he looked around the casino for signs of trouble.

“I have a question, how did you get that guy to leave… Thane was it?” Maroy asked

“Yes my name is Thane, I told him that if he didn’t leave that you two would become highly upset and that he wouldn’t want that to happen.” Answered Thane

“That’s a load of BS.” Laughed Tinker

She was right of course, Thane looked back on what happened and considered his options. He could have tore the man to shreds, knocked him out, of just simply scare him enough that he would run away. Thane knew what he had done was right, plus in a crowded casino the last thing he would want is to fight a higher ranked office, to many witnesses.

“So what do we do next?” Asked Thane

“It’s a casino, what do you think we do next?!” mocked Tinker

“Who is up for a game of Pazaak?” asked Maroy

“I like the way she thinks.” Said Tinker with a smile

The trio makes their way another wing of the casino and take their seats at a large circular table.  Usually at most Casinos there would be a droid for a dealer, but this place decided to use people as dealers. This dealer happen to be a woman who caught Thane attention immediately, she was very good looking. Thane suspected that it was to make the male players loose focus, and it worked.

“Hey Thane when your done looking at her would you mind paying attention to the group heading this way.” Whispered Tinker

Thane wanted to hit himself for getting distracted, he casually looked up and saw that a group of five were heading their way, one of them was the human Thane dealt with.  Thane began to measure the men up, and formulated ways of taking them down quickly, when Tinker laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Easy now, I’m Still your XO, remember, I know what your thinking, I’m thinking it too, but you don’t move unless I tell you.” Cadie whispered

Thane nodded in response, three men took their seats across from Maroy, Tinker and Thane. The other two remained standing behind them.

“How’s the hand?” asked Thane while the dealer past out cards
“It’s just fine.” Replied the human officer, trying to keep his composure

After Arthur was done training he looked around the gym and saw that it was empty and most of the lights were off.  He want to the locker to grab his gear and wash off his sweat.  When he was dressed and ready to head to his room his data pad began to buzz with a message about some sort of banquet.  They were really not his cup of tea so after he read it and memorized the location he deleted the message and was debating on going or not.

On his way home he looked up the walkway and saw four guys having a word with each other and by the way they moved they were all drunk something that only happened to Arthur once.  As Arthur kept walking he saw the group start to fight and could not stop himself from laughing when one of the guys punched the lamp post that was right in-front of him.  One of the others punched the air right next to the other and shouted "Ill hit one of you guys!"

Arthur stopped walking and just watched the show in-front of him.  the other two found themselves on the floor by a random punch from their own friends, and a swing with a miss the threw him off balance and on the floor which was not as forgiving as he hoped it might be.

Arthur resumed walking to his room passed the four guys  two of which were out cold and the other two about to join them.  When Arthur got to his room got changed and got dressed in his formal attire grabbed his blaster and his lucky knife with his spice pouch and strapped all three to his belt.  He took a look at himself in the mirror and saw all the changes to his uniform.  He looked at the small wooden box on the end table that now held all his old badges and insignias.

He started to lose himself in his unwanted memory's about the past the same ones that kept him awake all night long.  When Arthur finally freed himself he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door only to find the four he passed on the path walking past his room.  He locked the door and went to view the planets night life not knowing where he was really going but he knew he wanted to look like he was going somewhere important.

Slowly catching on to what Tinker was saying, Maroy followed her over to the staircase. They slowly ascended, listening carefully for any sign of pursuit.
“Hold on, I think I hear something,” muttered Cadie. They paused and strained their ears. Faint snatches of speech drifted down.
“…rigged Pazaak was sheer genius.”
“Yeah, you know how many credits we've made tonight? Over nine-thousand! How much did that officer demand for the information again?”
“It was something along the lines of…” The voices grew unintelligibly quiet after that, but the situation was obvious. Hostile forces were operating right in the middle of the Navy’s headquarters. Whipping out her comlink, Cadie signaled Thane.
“Thane, we’ve got some kind of hostile intelligence group operating here. Do you think you could go get some reinforcements?”
“Sure thing. Any idea how many hostiles?”
“We’ve only heard two, but there's got to be a lot more of them.”
“I’ll be back as soon as possible then. Thane out.”
Putting her comlink away, Cadie continued up the stairs.

-------------------------

Dodging other patrons, Thane squeezed out the door and headed towards the nearest intersection. Spotting a Shore Patrol officer, he ran over and waved the man down. When the S.P. noticed the Rhegent’s Reign insignia, he went ballistic.
“Not another of you stupid flyboys! I don’t care how many people you’ve killed or how good you are in a starfighter! I don’t care what you need; I refuse to help brats like you!”
Swearing loudly, the officer hopped into his speeder and sped away.
What’s his problem? Thane wondered as he began looking for another source of help. Spotting two guys in VE uniforms walking toward the casino, he hurried over and pulled them to the side.
“Listen, we’ve got a situation here. There’s some hostiles undercover in there, and me and my two squadron mates aren’t enough to take them down. Any chance you two are any good with a blaster?”
“We’ve both had some training. We didn’t expect any trouble though, so we only grabbed our standard-issue pistols,” replied the taller man.
“That’ll have to do. Come on.”
They walked inside, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. After wandering aimlessly for a few moments, they hurried up the staircase at the back of the room.

-------------------------

“Thane should be back by now. Where is he?” Cadie murmured to herself. Suddenly hearing a clunking noise, both of them withdrew their blasters and pointed down the steps. Realizing it was only Thane and two other men, she let out a sigh of relief and motioned for them to follow. Glancing around the corner, the only thing she saw was a doorway on the side. Peeking through, she saw several people, some sitting at terminals, some walking around holding datapads, and still others looking through the windows that lined the lower half of one wall. Ducking back to where the others were, she explained the situation.
“It definitely looks like some kind of intelligence operation. I counted about ten-fifteen people. Let’s try to take as many as possible alive; VEI will probably want to interrogate them.”
All five of them burst through the doorway, shooting stun blasts at anything that moved. All the agents were taken completely by surprise. Half of them were down by the time anybody realized what was going on, and only three had the presence of mind to pull out a blaster before being shot. Only one of them managed to fire a single stun shot, which grazed Maroy’s left lekku before slamming into the wall. She lost consciousness and fell to the ground. Looking around the room, Cadie suddenly realized that Thane wasn’t there.
“Did any of you see where Thane went?”
Her query was answered with the sound from a series of stun shots. Hurrying over to the window, they saw a few men crumple just feet outside the doorway, with Thane standing behind. Suddenly, they heard a dull thud from a supply closet along the wall. Cadie and the two men ran over, opening the door cautiously. Inside, bound and gagged, was a young Zeltron woman.
“Zizi???” One of the men exclaimed. They quickly unbound her and removed the gag. She began sobbing.
“They… forced me to… I didn’t want to tell them…”
The older man looked very concerned. “Zizi, what did you tell them?”
“About… about Lehon, about Phoenix… everything.”

-------------------------

Later, after calling in and finally convincing the head of Abrae security that they’d actually captured a hostile intelligence group, they listened to the two volunteers' story.
“I’m Kan Xyden, and this is Hark Skysk. We’re survivors of Lehon, but most of our squadron was torn to shreds out there. We were the last few to be debriefed, and along with Zizi Lor were assigned to Rhegent’s Reign. We decided we’d present ourselves together, but when we met up Zizi was nowhere to be found. We figured she might be off trying to drink herself to death, which is saying quite a lot for a Zeltron, so we looked in all the obvious places. We were about to look for her in the casino when Mr. Zabrak here grabbed us. Speaking of which, would you happen to know where Rhegent’s Reign’s XO is?”
Maroy chuckled a little, and noticing the annoyed look on Kan’s face, Cadie replied.
“You found me. I’ll have to do all the paperwork tomorrow though, because I have a feeling that this is gonna take a few more hours.”

-------------------------

A few hours later…
“Yep, they’re New Republic Intelligence. No question about it. We’ll keep you posted if we find out anything else.” The VEI agent had just finished extracting what little info he could from the captured force.
“Does this mean we can leave?” Maroy asked hopefully.
”For now; but the higher-ups will probably want to schedule a session with you five tomorrow. Go ahead and get some sleep.”

The holo-chamber was a bare room, ice-white walls formed a neat slightly claustrophobic square but it made sense that the room was so sparse given that it had such a limited function. Cali’reharn checked herself in her faint reflection against the nearest gleaming wall. The room must have been recently serviced as the walls still had the smeared markings of the service droid’s work. The effect made Cali’s reflection seem more blearily eyed than she in fact felt but this only further stressed the poor Twi’lek as she through her doubly bleared eyes over the room in search for the command console. In the middle of the room on a streamlined design tripod unit a simplistic console laid on top. She tried to slow her breath as she walked over, the sound of her boots bounced off the dense acoustics of such a small room. If she where to close her weary eyes she could imagine herself in a vast subterranean cavern not the wind-battered heart of the Vast Empire’s Navy. Her tanned fingers keyed in her authorisation code, a simple mix of numbers recalling a simpler time back on Or Tuma. This small cube room was not the time for such memories.

Against the furthest wall from Cali, incandescent blue light particles began to form in the stale under ventilated air. The holo-unit took a moment to gain full power in which the image before Cali resembled the refracting light and vibration that constructed all material and life. Her eyes flickered with the light beams and she found herself staring at perfect blue hued representation of her commanding officer; Geordi Atrasin. An imposing figure, he wore his full naval uniform of a dark black emblazoned with his rank insignia across his broad chest. In the blue-light from the holo-unit he looked like a figure from a previous age, however, the jarring juxtaposition of this impression against the metallic cybernetics of his other side reaching down most strikingly to the ground in the form of his robotic leg served as a reminder that Atrasin was very much a product of a modern fighting force. He had paid dearly for that privilege. Inwardly Cali cursed herself for not having attending the meeting in her own official uniform. Instead the unloved garment in question lay in a not quite so airtight vac pack awaiting the fresh advances of weaver-weevils. Fortunately for Cali, Atrasin did not bring her slack etiquette up. Almost forgetting herself she caught her bearings and threw up a hasty but sharp salute.

“Lt. Commander Atrasin,” As she said his name she brought her slack position to a straighter attention with a faint but audible snap, she hoped that his holo-unit was not as receptive in picking up background noise. “How may I serve you?”

Atrasin’s eyes where so dark that the holo-com unit struggled to render them in the limited colour scope but the narrowed into black pits causing Cali’s lekku to twitch involuntarily in anxiety. He nodded in a staggered mechanical manner; the cybernetic replacement gave his movements a belaboured stately air.

“Chief Warrant Reharn. You may place yourself at ease.” There was a slight fuzz of feedback indicating that Atrasin was making the call from a great and isolated distance. Despite what he said Cali remained upright and coiled inwardly for the awkward conversation.

“I wanted to get a report on your work with Rhegent’s.” The statement rang hollow, Cali had been providing exhaustive if mundane reports to wing command ever since she had been re-assigned. She motioned her mouth to speak but slowly Atrasin raised his metal claw to silence her.

“I know, Chief Warrant, I have seen your reports. Very promising but I wanted to get a more personal reading of the Rhegent’s situation.” He stopped with a metallic hiss and seemed to stare beyond Cali. “As personal as I could manage with my absence being from Abrae.”

It was equally beyond Cali why Atrasin would require such a personal update at such an impersonal hour but superior’s needs must.

“Well…” She began timidly her voice a frail whisper that was devoured by the pristine immaculately gleaming walls of the Empire.

“Speak up pilot!” Atrasin physically lent forward in his holo-outline like a phantom menace wishing to cast a curse on the poor mortal Cali’reharn.

“With your permission Commander…” Her voice ricochet off and bounced round the enclosed room giving it a stereo effect as if there where four or five of her in conversation. “I am not sure I have much else to add to those reports that I have already f-iled with you Sir.”

“Nonsense.” It was all he could offer to her protest what was she meant to say to that. Her pulse raced as she searched for something to say. She wanted to say something that would clear the tension; that was it she thought.

“Sir, I have been trying to get the Reign clearance for some live training up at that facility at Asteroid nineteen. All my requests, however, have been meet with flat denial which seems odd to me as now is a prime time for me to get everyone some real space time during the squadron’s orientation.” She congratulated herself at what she hoped was a faultless recovery.

“Data-pad munchers!” Atrasin barked the alien phrase, the holo-lag making the words sound ever more strange. “They’ve got me prancing round here aboard the Taskmaster trying to placate the back-side of our controlled system. Some awful campaign concocted by the TACOM public press department, using a veteran to garner favour from the merchant-class.” His metallic jaw spat the words out. Cali was thankful that the conversation was not taking place face to face as she had already used the refresher unit today and did not need a fresh re-soaking.

“And they expect me to get Javelin up and running to full strength, well pilot I ask you how is that possible?” Cali began to formulate some phonetics not realising her superior was talking rhetorically. “It is nigh impossible! I don’t have my own personal hyper-drive engine strapped to my rear! Now they’re trying to stonewall my units, well don’t worry Warrant Reharn. I may be on the other side of galaxy but mark my words I will make my presence felt with them.” Cali felt a pang of sympathy for, however, that particular them might be. Atrasin turned to look off the projection and motioned to someone out of view.

“Targus! Targus look sharp and get me the head of training resources back on Abrae…I don’t care if they on secondment, I’m out here delivering morale boosting speeches to crowds of nerf herders, they will respond to my requests. They wouldn’t want to show disrespect to damn war hero.” Atrasin’s word was laced with irony that Cali had not thought her commanding officer capable of but she could understand the frustrating position he was in.

Javelin wing had still to be tested. The shambles of the Lehon operation had left Lt. Commander Atrasin with the majority of the blame. Cali was sure he deserved the brunt of it giving his reckless and hasty action at such a massacre but she could not deny that he was resolved to restore the navy’s reputation and salvage his own at the same time. The high command was castrating any chance he had at executing such desires having him play the decorated relic at the mechanic’s fair. Cali, herself, was glad to savour the down time she was far from ready for the operational field. She jolted her shoulder blades in irritation at her earlier admission of paralysing fear, even Cali had buried beneath her own ambiguity a sense of personal reputation.

All the while as Atrasin chastised the poor Lieutenant, Cali stood nervously wishing for the meeting to be over. Her body longed for rest; the stress of recent events had culminated into an ever-constant residual feeling of physical fatigue. She had still to prepare her notes for tomorrow’s lecture, now that would really be an operational shambles. As she was mentally time tabling the briefing in her head, the harsh bark of Atrasin brought her back to nervy reality.

“…And they can thank their stars that I’m not in the vicinity to pay them a personal visit!” As her commander faced to turn back to her, Cali could have sworn her wore an inward grin. She was sure he was enjoying venting his frustrations. With each new position there came a new perversion in petty power.

“Warrant Officer, you and the rest of the Rhegent’s will find you’ll have no trouble in procuring access to Asteroid nineteen’s training facilities. In fact, arrangements will be arranged, I assure you, that in two cycles you will be shuttled up to base along with the rest of your pilots.” Equally so, Cali mused, with each promotion they came a fresh opportunity to apply heavy leverage. She found it hard to condone such practises but she could not fault her commanding officer’s results.

“Thank you, Sir.” She offered limply making up for the lacklustre in her voice with an imperially executed salute.

“Nonsense!” Again Atrasin’s cryptic phrase left Cali hanging on dead air.

“I don’t want my pilots making a hash of things just because they’ve forgotten the difference between the linked fire command and the ejection protocol.” He pulled an ugly grin; half mechanical half died in the wall Imperialist Atrasin was terrifying combination. Yet he had cut through the red tape that had been tangling up Cali in a matter of moments. A powerful force and nobody’s tool, he staggered in robotic fashion towards the front of the projection field.

“You see pilot, they can’t cut me off that easily. I’ll make sure my pilots are treated right and seen to in a correct manner like true Imperials.” For the first time in their uneasy exchange his eyes seemed to look directly into Cali’s.

“Thrawn has proved you can throw any bantha fodder from the recesses of the galaxy into a Imperial uniform.” He snarled the name. Cali felt naked in her own racial identity; no uniform could hide her brain-tails. There was glint behind the frittering blue projection of his eyes as he continued. “The success, however, the real break-through in that feat is getting the wearer of that uniform to act like an Imperial. I’m not sure I can vouch for Imperial blood coursing through the veins of all our Vast Empire’s brethren…can you pilot?”

A heartbeat. The split-second as Cali’s brains translated her thoughts internally from feeling to symbolic sense into Ryl than finally into standard Basic.

“The Rhegent will bleed most Imperial Sir. Our blood is on our uniform already, that is why I commissioned the squadron’s colour to be garnet.” Cali was not playing politics; the colour had instantly drawn her. Throughout her short career at the navy, the pale blue of TIE paintwork, the sterile whiteness of a Stormtropper’s armour, the humbling blackness of space had all been imprinted on her retinas. None of these shades had impacted on her in comparison to the constant presence of blood; soaked crimson, congealed red clogged with space dust and the grime of battle, a pervading garnet of what it meant to serve as a star-fighter pilot.

Atrasin was silent. The static hissed and his jaw whirled and clicked as he considered what Cali had hoped had been eloquent words.

“In the detail, Warrant Officer, that’s where a true sense of duty lies. I am fair, Reharn, I think you can appreciate the impracticalities we may find ourselves in but I will retain order amongst my wing. Javelin will be sharp in it’s first strike, therefore, I am pleased to see you so keen to have our spears primed for the task. It is reassuring to know that your heart beats the in kind with my own, let it remain true and my fairness shall remain. Though I may be blunt in my words my purpose is not, Reharn. I’m sure we all have footsteps to tread…” Threats are well veiled in such a military organization but even Cali as a non-native speaker could decipher Atrasin’s intent.

“How are your new recruits fairing?” Like the gears and joints of his cybernetics Atrasin changed the lingering tone.

“As reported nothing seems below board, it’s how they fly that matters most.” In all honestly, Cali was still getting a reading on all the mix of pilots she had under her tenure.

“Quite. Where are they now?” Was this man really oblivious to the laws of time, it was soon early morning on Abrae. Surely he could not be so ignorant of that fact.

“I’d imagine they’re all bunkered down, Sir.” At least that is what Cali hoped for, no matter what they had got to up in the evening it would reflect very bad on her and the squadron if the Rhegent’s earned a reputation for late night revelry.

“Good, good. I don’t want them getting spoiled by all the mod cons our fair home as to offer. Ensure you keep the tip sharp, pilot.” Cali nodded curtly in response, her legs where falling asleep hardly the best way to conduct a meeting with a superior officer.

“No Sir. They have my strict instructions to maintain a low presence and stay out of trouble.”
The fleshy side of Atrasin’s face leered in what Cali guess to be a display of satisfaction.

“Proceed with your duty, Warrant Officer, my ternary for this royal trope has got a few more stops to go but High Command can’t keep us from deployment for ever. Be alert to anything that might hinder our rapid and efficient dispersal. We shan’t be caught idle.” Cali strained her eyelids as she fluttered them against the onslaught of sleep.

“For now, I’ll be signing off. Be true to the cause.” He motioned off the projection field to somebody. Cali raised a haggard hand in what felt the umpteenth salute.

Cali just hoped she could say the same for the other Rhegent’s.

Thane sat in the interrogation room, he was becoming annoyed. Answering the same questions for several hours, and telling the same story over and over again, the Zabrak was ready to leave, with his squadron mates. He stared down the man questioning him, he was an average height Lieutenant, and with Thane staring at him the man was noticeably nervous.

“Crewman Thane Rios 153rd Rhegent's Reign squadron, your history before joining the VEN is sketchy, you’re an ex-assassin, who in the begining of his career worked for anyone who would hire him, including the NR.” Said the Lt.

“Yes, when I first started I worked for anyone, but as I got older…” Thane was cut off, which agitated him.

“As you got older you only took targets, which you felt deserved to die, like some type of vigilante, but it’s your past with the New Republic the makes me question.” Said the Lt. mocking Thane

Thane was tired and annoyed, questioning him about what he was doing at the casino was one thing, but questioning his allegiance to the VEN was more than he could take. Thane bolted up out of his chair.

“If you are saying that I might be working with the NR, then you are wrong, those bastards are responsible for the death of my brother, and you dare question me as if I am some spy. If you were any other man I’d kill you where you stand!” growled Thane

The Lieutenant was doing his best not to run seeing the angry Zabrak, in the enclosed space was terrifying.

“Take a seat Crewman Rios!” Barked the Lt, thane couldn’t tell if he found some new-found courage or if he was trying to get someone’s attention. Thane sat down and glared at the man in front of him. There was a knock at the door; the Lieutenant was more than happy to open the door. After a minute or two The Lt. let Thane ordered him to return back to his barracks. Thane left the room staring the man down the whole time.

Thane stepped out into a common room and took a seat in a large comfortable chair. A few minutes later Cadie stepped out, and joined Thane. Cadie noticed that Thane was angry; she wondered what happened in the room he was, but now was not the time to ask.  Thane sat motionless, someone could have entered the room, with a loaded rifle and aimed it at him and Thane wouldn’t have cared. He was thinking of his brother, the VENI Lieutenant had reopened some old wounds. Two other pilots entered the room, they were talking to each other when they noticed a haggard looking Zizi, one of them ran towards her and was trying to figure out what happened to her. After Cadie heard Zizi’s story, she made her way out of the room, and narrowly avoided running into Maroy.  Cadie asked Maroy if she saw Zizi in the mess with her, when Maroy replied no it made Cadie question her newest squadron member. The group left the building making their way back to Rhegent’s barracks. Thane was deep in thought the entire way back, he was trying to figure out what NR and VENI agents were doing in casino, which was an odd target for intelligence groups. After a few minutes Thane gave up on trying to figure anything out, fatigue was setting in, from sparring with Cadie, to all of the antics in the casino, Thane was ready for some rest.

In a large room, set up for a reception, a large group of Naval personnel stand around, a number of them sipping drinks and conversing, but for a good number their drinks either sit in their hands idle, or have been deposited somewhere as they moved closer to the confrontation taking place near the center of the room.

Slasher looks at the small patrol of S.P.s before him, his eyes narrowed as he studies the man who has been responsible for much of his trouble this evening.

"So Warrant Officer, are you going to surrender peacefully? Or will we be required to use force?"

"Officer, I believe that it has already been made clear what has transpired between us this evening. Based on this you have no reason to be trying to hold me, and I would thank you for backing off and allowing me to carry out my duties."

"You are at a reception, you are not on duty, but rather are enjoying food and drink. You will either stand down and surrender yourself into custody, or we will be required to use force."

This is the last straw for Slasher, he is tired of trying to talk things out with this particular S.P. and pulls out his datapad, pulling up a message he received earlier from his Squadron Commander he shoves it in the annoying S.P.'s face.

"If you would look at this message Officer, you will see that it is from my Commanding Officer, instructing me to attend this reception in her place, as she was unable to attend due to other duty requirements. I am here in an official capacity, and now either stand down Petty Officer, or I will have you taken into custody yourself."

The Petty Officer, his patience completely gone, completely ignores the datapad and reaches out to grab Slasher's arm,

"Warrant Officer, you have ignored my instructions and chosen to resist arrest, I am taking you into custody and charging you with Violation of Traffic Ordinances, False report, Fleeing and Evading, and resisting arrest without violence."

Immediately the room erupts into chaos, Slasher jerks backward to avoid the grasping arm of the S.P., and at the same time several of the guards in the room, at a signal from the Navy Master at Arms, who was present at the reception, the guards took the S.P. into Custody. But Slasher's attention is diverted from the events taking place at the reception by the beeping of his comlink, exchanging a nod with the Master At Arms, Slasher slips out of the Reception to receive the call on his comlink.

Cali's voice comes over the comlink,

"As you know we're gonna be meeting at the lecture hall for more training tomorrow, I need you to see what you can do about getting us some simulator time for after the briefing, we need to keep these guys in tip-top shape, anyway, I know you're attending with the swank but I wanted you make sure we're booked in asap. You know the procedure so I'm having you do it."

Slasher sighs, wondering why he's tasked with such banality.

"Aye ma'am, Slasher out."

OOC:

Just a small post, all I could think of right now, I'll add to it later if I get more ideas.

It had been a restless night; Cali’reharn had not managed to get herself that much sleep. The surprise call from her superior; Atrasin had not helped either. Despite the vague cordial tone he had presented there was no doubt the man’s trust and pride had been severely thwarted as a result of the disaster at Lehon. She sensed he was weary of her ability. Plus her previous connection with Viper and more specifically Ibram Tyrol only soured her own reputation in his eyes.

She smoothed the right leg crease of her faded fatigues, there was no time for such thoughts of mistrust and suspicion, the Navy needed to be united and Cali would not allow herself to be a weak link in the chain. And she was running late. She had told all the squadron to reconvene from yesterday in the grand lecture hall but as Cali almost toppled a poor hapless maintenance droid she checked the chrono on her datapad. Frotz! She was not going to be much of strong pillar of unity if she was late to her own briefing sessions. She skidded on the heels of her dull military issue boots and resisted the urge to break out into a flat out run. Instead she adopted a curious half-walk, half-skip like motion which made her look ridiculous. Her lekku galloped behind her like some form of farmed life-stock. Mentally running through a check-list of the notes she had hastily prepared over her equally hastily prepared breakfast she pelted through the entrance into the grand but empty chamber.

Empty?! Why was it empty?! Maybe she was not the only one who had had an eventful evening.

The grand chamber was bathed by the mid-morning sun. The storm from the previous night had abated into a mild calm day. Outside the lecture hall the steady traffic of repulsor vechiles and cargo transports skimmed overhead off into the horizon. The nearby vegetation of the Navy´s own privately kept gardens glistened with dew. The plants had taken the storm in their stride, turning their leafs and petals skyward as if in a sign of resistance and rebellion. Cali stood for a moment catching her breathe and took in the warmth from the vista before her; her heavy panting a soft echo bouncing off the grandly carved arches of the high roofed room.

"Morning Commander," Startled Cali jerked her head up to find the familiar face of Arthur 'Romanflame' Dragon. The Zabrak lifted his hand in a mannered salute. Cali nodded in recognition more a reaction to finding out that she was not the only person in the room afterall. "I took it upon myself to brew up an infusion for all of the Rhegent's"

Arthur stood next to a small make-shift stand on which an elaborately designed urn of silver and over-waxed bronze stood proudly ontop. A faint constant flow of smoke emitted from the urn's ornate giving a hazy effect to the sun's light. The urn was shaped like a mouth of some mythical serpent like creature. The teeth where engraved with a fine attention to detail that streched down the creature's scale markings before the design trailed off to the main chamber of the urn. Next to the proud vessel, simple cermaic cups had been arranged in an uniform pattern on the table. A couple of the cups appeared stained showing evidence of much use. Cali had often seen Arthur with such a cup in his hand at briefings during their joint service with Viper squadron. The Zabrak, she knew, was stocked with a capornicopia of extoic spices and infusions from all over the galaxy. How he managed to get his hands on them, Cali could not fathom. She knew he was a resolutely moral being so she sincerely hoped that he did not have to resort the icy hand of the Black Sun syndicate.

"I know the X/O isn't partial to riches of Sarbah forest," His teeth gleamed as he smiled and Arthur brandished a rather curled purple leaf between his fingers. "Which is why I've also brewed up what human's call caf. Personally I can't stand the stuff, reminds me of mud-water. I do hope the rest of the squadron will embrace a more discernable palette."

"Q-quite." It was all that Cali could bring herself to say. She had finally steadied the beating of heart.

OOC:

Basically certain members of the squadron will be running late to today's meeting: mentioning no names; Thane, Marzie and Tink

Slash good job on your post and Dnarion we will now be able to give you a proper introduction

Arthur being up all night was the first to show up to the lecture hall early  when he noticed the time he went back to his room and grabbed a small pouch of spice not his normal tea but a spice he found that some of the other races liked.  Arthur could not stand the stuff but brought it for his squad mates.  There was also a few other rare spices in his large trunk that he got from his only connection to the life he once had a short while before he joined the VE.  He also grabbed a tea kettle that was has been in his family for a long time.

Arthur packed his bag to head back to the lecture hall when he got there he found it was still empty he began to wounder if he was early again but after looking at four different clocks and having them all show the same time he realized the rest were running late.  He walked over to a stack of supply boxes, and set his pouch down and with the hall being reserved he felt he could leave it here.  Arthur went to the back room to fill the kettle with water for the drink and grabbed a few glasses enough for the squad.  One glass for every seat even the ones that  were not filled yet because who knows when it would be filled.

As Arthur was in the back room he heard his squad commander walk into the lecture hall.  When it was full enough he walked out and went to work brewing the caf.  He also had a larger glass of his famous tea the full brew that would make any human pass-out after one glass.  He was not too sure what it would do to a Twi'lek, because he never had one brave enough to drink after they saw what happened to the humans.

"Morning Commander," Arthur said as he gave a salute. "I took it upon myself to brew up an infusion for all of the Rhegent's."

He never thought he would scare a squad mate let alone his commander, but he rather enjoyed seeing some life in this room instead of another needless lecture on stuff he already knew.

OOC:

Just a short post before the week vacation.  Have fun guys and gals.

As Thane and Arthur exchanged Zabrak patios amongst sips of tea Cali found herself drinking a very particular infusion of some far-flung exotic spice standing next to her icy Falleen colleague. Gorma, himself had refused Arthur’s offering of a fresh brew. He stood tall and lanky next to Cali’s stooped demeanour. All she wanted was to crawl back into her quarters and lie on the make shift mattress she had constructed from her old trading blankets. She had asked the pilot to go in attendance to last night’s grand soiree for the high-brass. It definitely was not her scene and having done her research on her fellow crewman she knew Slasher was man for such Imperial occasions. One would only need to visit his quarters to realise how seriously he valued his military life. Cali found it hard to imagine the Falleen in any other walk of life. For some the military such as the Vast Empire was the vital safety net of infrastructure which prevented such tightly coiled people from slipping through the system in the great chaos of the galaxy.

“We will be able to take the squadron down to the sims after we’ve I mean you’ve finished conducted your lecture.” Slasher picked up their conversation. It was good to have somebody as keen and officious as Gorma in your squadron. He was someone of the fine detail and nothing would make it past his lizard’s eyes. Put simply he was ambitious.

“Good work Slash. I’m sure we will not be long with my lecture.” She emphasised her words carefully. It would be a good idea to keep equally keen eyes on this disciple.

She turned to the entrance; the sun light caused the high beam wood work to cast a long shadow from where she stood to the crack of emptiness. There was still no sign of the others. Just what had the rest of her troupe gotten up to with the free time. It worried her slightly that there was no sign of her X/O. The two women had made an agreement when Cali had used what little influence she had in the Navy to fast track Cadie’s reassignment alongside her former squadron mates. She was welcome back to the fold as long as she did not bring the drink with her. Cali had put her trust in Tink, maybe it had been ill judged. The chrono on her cracked datapad chimed indicating that she should have begun her address to the Rhegent’s. It would not be much of an address to just three people. She sighed inwardly and made her way to the holo-console to begin uploading her notes and schematics for today’s retread of the old familiar theory.

By the time Maroy got back to her quarters, everything was utterly silent. Glancing at the chrono on the wall, she realized with a start that the briefing would be starting in less than an hour. Deciding against trying to sleep, she pulled out her drawer of junk parts and began sifting through. Let’s see, a trashed blaster rifle, fragments from an old R2 unit, and… there! She pulled out what was left of a probe droid and gently pried the sensors off. Now, if only I had another motivator…

Suddenly she heard a little screeching noise from outside the door, and in burst a tiny mouse droid. “Mousey, there you are! And you found a motivator, too!” The little mouse droid had been one of her side projects, merging the brain of a R2 unit with a standard mouse droid. She had reprogrammed it to scavenge for mechanical parts in the facility’s trash compactor. Grabbing the motivator, she turned around and began soldering it onto the tiny rover in the corner. She connected two wires, and the rover began beeping. It began inching forward. Suddenly, with a little bang, the motivator began smoking and Maroy hurried to shut it off. Dang, I forgot to put some coolant on first… I wonder if…  “Frak!” Suddenly, she remembered the lecture. According to the chrono, it started 5 minutes ago.

Bolting through the door, she tore down the corridor, knocking over several pilots and service droids. She took a turn to sharply and ran smack into a familiar Zeltron. "Zizi! We're late for the meeting!" Zizi jumped a little, as if she'd been sleeping. "Huh? Oh, I, uh, need to take care of some stuff first. Go ahead without me." Maroy just gave a little shrug and kept running. Finally, she found the room and burst through. “Sorry I’m late, I was working on a droid and lost track of time…” Her squadron leader interrupted her.  “Calm down! You’re not the only person running late!” Maroy stopped and gazed around. Aside from her and Cali, only three pilots had shown up. Well, that was embarrassing. Way to get out of control again. She turned around and meekly took a seat, declining the offer of beverages. A minute later Zizi came in, looking a bit more distraught than before and giving no excuse for her lateness. She took a bit of the caf, and took a seat.