Driver drummed the fingers of his right hand on the armrest as he cradled his chin in his prosthetic hand.  The constant rhythm of the noise lulled him into a semi-catatonic state.  His thoughts lost among the myriad of stars that lay before him. 

Targus cleared his throat, “M’Lord”.

“Yes Commodore?”

“We’ve finished the assessment of the current fleet command status.” Worry etched his voice.

The command chair swiveled to face the officer, “And?”

“Not good M’Lord.  Of the current seven ship’s captains only one, namely myself, has any capital ship combat experience, and only one other, Lieutenant Othe of the Ratselhof, has any significant time at the Conn of anything larger… than a Blastboat.” The final words hesitantly tripped off his lips, as if afraid of how they’d be met by the Prince Admiral.

“Mmmmm that is a dilemma.  Suggestions?”

“Two M’Lord;  One, vigorously train and drill the current captains and crews in the finer points of ship to ship combat while simultaneously avoiding all aggressive movement and provocative measures.  Two, bribe combat veterans to join the fleet.” Targus braced for the burst he knew was coming.

Unexpectedly Atrasin chuckled.

“Well put Commodore.  I’d say that is an accurate assessment of our choices.” Pushing up from the chair and locking his hands behind his back, “Walk with me.”

The two officers strolled around the perimeter of the Victory-II’s bridge, “Do you know why I put you in command of the Animus?”

“No M’Lord, I do not. The bulk of my combat experience was aboard the Baronet Huur at Lehon.  While I was in command of the ship, Lord Bedav held overall command of the fleet.  I merely executed his orders.” His voice firm yet slightly hollow as are the voices of all men when admitting their deficits.

“True, you did act in an adjunct role to my brother, but he also gave you a glowing recommendation to your clearheaded thought process under fire, and your astute management of the battle information was key to the extraction of the VE forces.  Do not sell yourself short Commodore, you have skills.  True, they may not be suited for a ship as large as the Animus, but you do have skills, and right now you are the best we have. “

Targus nodded slightly, the sting of his shortcomings was tempered by the truth of the statement.  He was the best they had, and they needed better.

“M’Lord, may I wholeheartedly recommend we implement the second suggestion.  We should be able to ‘persuade’ more experienced officers to rally to our banner. “His voice ticked up with the enthusiasm of a true believer of any cause.

“I agree Commodore.  So much so that I sent the word out across the galaxy prior to our ‘visit’ to Abrae.”

The younger officer paused and then returned the wicked smile his prince wore, “Excellent, M’Lord. Have we had any takers?”

“We have.  Some known to me, some not.  I’ve had the House Intelligence staff working around the clock to ascertain the legitimacy of all of them.  We should know soon enough where they stand, and in turn, where we stand.  To that end, some of these officers will be fighting under a Nom de Guerre.  They will known only to me and  to their bridge crews and those crews will be sworn to secrecy.  They will only communicate via holo and those holos will be encoded and cloaked.”

Targus nodded approvingly, “When are they scheduled to arrive M’Lord?”

“Soon Commodore, very, very soon.  Many of them first need to establish alibis for their absences or cover stories for the factions they currently are allied with.  But I promise you; very soon we will possess the manpower to more than adequately wield the firepower.  Dismissed.”

Targus clicked his heels and wheeled about leaving the Prince Admiral to gaze into the inky blackness with an eerie calm on his brow and slight smirk on his lips.

OOC:

Those of you i've invited to join me at Ator are to post the tale of how you came to join me, here. 

“Recruits, attention!” Cayden Tavers screamed, his voice echoing through Platform Saratoga’s gleaming hangar. Thirty recruits, all dressed in dark gray uniforms, clicked their heals and saluted as the newly minted Training Executive Officer, Zhar Bacredi. Bacredi, wearing his black training uniform, approached Tavers and he saluted as well.

“Break off, get into your fighters. Go!” Bacredi screamed, recruits entered the three elevator shafts lining the walls, while others opted for the stairs. They all entered the auxiliary track and immediately loaded up into their fighters. Tavers and Bacredi watched silently as all 30 starfighters exited the hangar bay. “Chief,” he motioned to Cayden, “go join them. I have put in my papers of official leave with the V.E.N. and will be returning within the month.”

“Yes, sir,” Tavers said. Bacredi had only known for Tavers for a few days, as he met him right after he signed back on to the navy for his successor, Stormz.

“You’re the TXO in my stead, and you will report to the NTO.” Bacredi saluted Cayden and quickly ran off through a hallway door. He walked down the familiar halls and to his office. Entering the room, he grabbed his identification cards and his blaster pistol—everything else had been packed into his SC-19 Florian Scout, Illustrious, which was momentarily parked in another hangar bay. As he walked out he pressed him palm to a screen, the double cherry oak doors quickly opened and as soon as he was out, closed. They let out a re-affirming beep, meaning that they were locked.

He strolled down the hallways, and finally ended up in the hangar bay that the Illustrious was being kept in. Bacredi had been contacted by his old SC—Geordi Atrasin, who was known as G’schlecc Atrasin at the time—to assist, no, to help him with his Home Fleet. Bacredi had never known ‘Driver’, as he was commonly called, was a member of a royal family. He had certainly never known that he was in line to be a Head of State.

Bacredi boarded the SC-19 and quickly started the ship up. He received permission from the dock manager to leave, and he quickly pressed a button to pull the ramp up and achieved a hover with the ship. The ship then slowly proceeded through the hangar bay and didn’t look back. Bacredi turned the ship sharply, and proceeded to a hyperspace point. He brought his R6 astromech in, who quickly punched in the hyperspace coordinates into the main computer, and the ship was quickly taken back by a hyperspace warp. Bacredi flipped a switch and metal blinds came down over the six cockpit windows, as he found hyperspace warp nauseas. TC-5K8’s silver body appeared on the holo-transmitter.

“Sir, where would you like me to bring your meal?”

“Bedroom, please,” Bacredi gave the reign to R6 and walked into the elevator and proceeded to the middle floor. He got out of the elevator and walked into his bedroom, passing out almost immediately as he de-clothed and entered his bed, without waiting for TC to give him his meal.

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Bacredi had slept for a good amount of time, showered, and changed into his dress uniform which consisted of a white shirt, black tie, with black pants and a black double breasted naval jacket that had most of his commendations and medals on it. His shoulder pauldrons showed his old rank of Ensign, but he hadn’t gotten them fixed yet. He walked up to the cockpit and flipped a switch again, this time the shutters opened. The planet Ator was clearly visible to him, along with the rest of the planets in the system. R6 was by the navigation chart and began to speak to Bacredi in droidspeak. Bacredi understood most of what the astromech unit was saying, but relied on the translation computer for some other parts.

“Got it, send it through.” Bacredi brushed through his hair with his hand and swiveled his seat to be viewing the holo-transmitter. Geordi Atrasin, full of his pride and excellence appeared, standing at what seemed like a bridge. “Good day, sir,” Bacredi said, resisting the urge to salute.

“Good to see you again, Blue, it’s been awhile—since Nazgul, right?” Driver said, making Bacredi feel nostalgic. “Anyway, I’ll be heading down to the surface in awhile, but you will be getting some coordinates in a few seconds—” a beep in the background came at the same time, signifying a message “—and go land there, you will be accommodated with anything you need.”

“Got it, thanks, sir.” Bacredi cut the transmitter out and took manual control of the craft. He looked at the message and the bottom just stated You're early.

“M’lord. We have confirmations to your messages,” stated Targus as he looked over his padd.

“How many?”

Checking the information for the fourth time, “At this point M’lord, Fifteen.”

“Good.  It’s a start.  Have them rendezvous at the ‘Hof tomorrow morning…0900.”

“Yes M’lord,” Targus clicked his heels, wheeled about and was gone.

  The bridge of the Animus was his again, alone.  True he had several dozen bridge officers and crewmen going about their tasks, but he was alone.  No one dared disturb the Prince Admiral.  They knew too well his temper and his reputation for harsh punishment.  He sat in his command/pilot’s chair and reviewed the roster of new commanders.  Several Chiss had jumped at the chance to get their own ships.  No doubt they all fancied themselves superior to Thrawn.  The usual mix of Corelians, Mon Cals, Bothans; none of them stood out as recognizable names. 

“What do we have here?” He highlighted a name more than half way down the list…a Wookiee name, and smiled.

The smile was not unnoticed by the bridge crew.  They had only seen a smile several times in their time aboard the Animus; all of them were followed by bad, bad things.  The immediately went back to work, heads down, hoping to not draw the attention of their cyborg commander.

Driver scrolled down further, yet another familiar name popped up, and then a third.  He stood and briskly strode to his command office; one could almost call it a skip.  He quickly punched in his comm codes and pulled up a secure link to a certain Wook owned ship.  The comm connected.

"How's it going, you old mop?" he smiled heartily, the first real smile he’d allowed himself since Lehon.

The conversation was short and factual, but it lifted his spirits.  He made two more calls, one to Rocky and the last to Blue.  The fact that he was talking to Bacredi and not actively trying to incinerate him spoke volumes as to where he was now.  The meeting was set.  He now had his commanders.  Tomorrow could not come swiftly enough.

Come it did and the night dragged.  It had been many years since Driver had lost sleep due to anticipation.  He awoke after a few fitful hours, dressed in his finest black on black and made his way to the Great Hall of the Ratselhof.  The command wannabes were assembled before him.

“Beings, Welcome to Ator.  I am Geordi II, Prince Admiral of the Atoran Home Fleet, Duke of Ator, and Moff of the Atoran Imperial Hegemony…and YOU are my commanders.  I have summoned you here to be a part of a grand crusade.  This is a crusade to restore our beloved Empire to the galaxy, and to wipe the Rebel scum from our collective memories.  I have created a fleet of the finest, newest warships in this sector.

I have built a Ground Force that is one of the finest around and have placed her under the command of General Fidel Sonn, late of the 93rd Legion, 37th Battalion.  He will deliver the coup de grace.  YOU will deliver the opening salvo.  I charge you with bring our fleet up to IMPERIAL standards.  Mediocrity is not permitted; failure will be met most severely.  I expect all of you to do your duty to the memory of our late lamented Emperor as if he were still here to revel in our glories.  For I assure you, failure to act as if he were among us will bring the same swift punishment he so wisely dispensed. 

The fleet will consist of three parts.  The Command Fleet, which will be commanded by me personally and will be flagged from my newest ship, the Iron Duke.  The First Fleet, which will be flagged from the Animus, and the Second Fleet which will be flagged from the Scorn.  I have looked over all of your credentials and your ships have been assigned to you according to your skill level and past accomplishments.  You also now hold Atoran citizenship and Home Fleet ranks.  The information is now in the padd’s I have provided to you all.  I have decided on my deputy commanders.  They have not been notified of their elevation prior to this moment.  I ask them to step forward.

"Ph'rranix Krazanr step forward!  Zhar Bacredi step forward!”

The Wookiee and the human stepped from the ranks, their faces etched with confusion and a slight bit of embarrassment. 

“Mr. Bacredi, you are hereby appointed Rear Admiral and given command of the Second Fleet.  Do you accept?”

Blue looked as if he’s swallowed a gundark whole as he choked out his words, “Y-yes M’lord.”

“Excellent,” Driver smiled as he handed Blue his command baton. Next he moved to Stormz.

The Wookiee did not look pleased.  Most wooks do not enjoy public spectacle, and this was a most public spectacle. 

“Mr. Krazanr, you are hereby appointed to Vice Admiral, given command of the First Fleet and made Deputy Commander of the Atoran Home Fleet.  Do you accept?”

The last part took even the Wookiee by surprise.  He’d worked for many years both in the Empire and the Vast Empire against the human-centric policies and prejudices, never quite overcoming them no matter how hard he worked or how skillful he was.  Now, a man that he’d had serious run-ins with in the past had just made him an admiral, and second in command of a fleet.  His Wookiee sense of honor swelled within him.

“/Yes M’lord/,” he growled.

Handing his baton of office over Driver spoke, “Excellent.  Beings, we have work to do, and ships to shape.  I expect status reports within two days.  Dismissed.”

The throng of newly minted captains scattered for their fighters, shuttles and other ships while checking their padds.  Stormz and Blue turned to their once and current comrade. 

“Gents, sorry for the showmanship, but I’ve discovered one thing being royalty…the people do love a good show.  Now, we have some work to do.  I have targeted Vuma as our first target.  I have set the invasion date for six months from today.  I will make that date, understood?”

The duo of Admirals nodded.

“Good, now to your ships.  We have a war to prepare for.”

Bacredi was wearing his dress uniform for the navy, still holding his 2nd Lt pips, something he rarely wore. He was followed by his newly minted bridge crew into a old Lambda-Class Shuttle that was supposedly assigned to the Scorn. As the shuttle lifted off, it was followed by two single starfighters and the droid-piloted Illustrious out of the hangar. Two minutes later they were all aboard the Victory II-Class Star Desroyer Scorn, Bacredi’s new command position. He exited the Lambda, and the entire bridge crew proceeded to the bridge, obviously. Bacredi grabbed a clipboard from the bridge wall and began calling out names.

“Grant Dayman, Ex-O,” Bacredi called out.

“Here, sir,” a voice rang behind him, and a main dressed in a supposedly “formal” attire of an unbuttoned Imperial uniform ran in.

“You’re late.” Bacredi put the clipboard to his side and looked at the XO.

“Had to check out the uh, engine rooms, sir,” the XO ran past Bacredi and into one of the crew pits to begin routine maintenance after Bacredi had nodded him off.

“Cayden Tammer, Second Mate,” he got a hand up right away. He then went through the rest of the bridge crew and all of them were there, Bacredi then emptied the entire bridge except for Dayman, who was watching the bridge in Bacredi’s absence. The crew went down the hall into a forty-seat briefing room. Two head mechanics were in the room, leading the briefing according to Bacredi’s clipboard. “Good day, and you two are?”

“Greg Jacabson, Chief Mechanic,” the taller of the two said, shaking Bacredi’s hand.

“Jon Flintlock, Lead Engine Mechanic,” Flintlock didn’t bother to shake Bacredi’s hand.

“You two leading the briefing today?” Bacredi said, noting Flintlock’s snub.

“Aye, we are, we’ll be pointing out what we are improving in the next two days. Is there any way we can get more time?” Jacabson said, eyeing Flintlock after he snubbed Bacredi.

“We’ll be doing drills for about a day and a half, I think, and the other half a day will be spent checking up on everything, I can’t go any farther than that, I’m afraid.” Bacredi said, and the two men both nodded and turned around into the podium. Bacredi took a seat in front, next to his Second Mate.

—— —— —— —— ——
Bacredi stood at the helm of a fake bridge, which was designed to look exactly like a VSD’s bridge. The 36 pilots of the Scorn sat in simulators one room away, and mechanics also were standing in a ‘visual reality’ engine room. The rest of the bridge crew was in the bridge as well, ready for the simulation. A sheet printed out in one of the crew pits, and the communications officer read it off: “Three Venator-Class, incoming. Ten squadrons accompanying. Scorn has accompanying ships, consisting of three GR-75 Transports—which must be kept moving—five squadrons of Zebra-Class Starfighters. This part is in quotes: The rest of your fleet is arriving three minutes after the start of this mission. Good luck. Mission is starting after you read this.” Bacredi hit a button on his wristwatch, which began to record the time.

“Sonar, what do you have?” Bacredi asked the sonar operator.

“Three Venators are incoming, accompanied by 120 starfighters, like the reading said.”

“Weapons, ready the turbolasers. Comm., inform the gunners that they will need to aim at the starfighters before anything else—also send a message to accompanying squadrons: Engage at will.” Bacredi relayed more orders and sat down in the captain’s chair.

“Sent, sir,” he kept on typing.

“They are about thirty seconds from our fighters, sir,” another sonar operator reported. A hologram shone done in between the crew pits, it showed ten red blips going up against eight green blips, and they were about to converge on each other. Blips overlapped and some even disappeared.

“Damage assessment, please.” Bacredi calmly asked the crew.

“Sir, the rest of the fleet is arriving in thirty seconds!” A crewman ran up from the crewpit and to the back of the bridge, informing Bacredi on his way.

“Someone get me a line—” Bacredi thought for a second “—to one of the captains, please. Hopefully someone I might know.”

“Got it,” a crewman looked at a list of captains on a terminal. “Headset on?” Bacredi grabbed his earpiece and unbuttoned his suit at the same time, plugging it into his ear. “Connected.”

“This is Hale Firekeeper, sir, good to finally meet you.”

The bridge of the Iron Duke was cavernous; easily twice the size of the Animus.  The bridge stations were well hidden below the command walkways, shielded both from view and from hearing.  Geordi sat in his command chair, peering into the void – as he often did – lost in his own thoughts.  It was well the average crewman, commander or even his closest family didn’t know those thoughts for they were truly terrifying.  The visions had come not long after he’d regained consciousness aboard the Atrus.  Fire, blood, and the ever-cold of the vacuum clouded his sight.  Yulia’s shattered body.  His father’s scattered remains.  His severed limbs in their ceremonial casket, awaiting the day they’d be rejoined with the portions that chose to remain animate…and attached.  The loop was constant. 

A low chirp meandered its way into his now.  It came; lightly at first, but persistent like a soka fly on a warm Coruscant night.

“Yes Targus.”

A brief pause followed by a hesitant lilt, “This is Captain Malou, M’lord.”

Driver palmed his organic hand across his face remembering he’d given Targus command of the Nightshrike the week before.  Captain Khatt Malou was a veteran of the Outer Rim patrols under the traitor Kazz.  She’d survived the political fallout and managed to land on her feet, only to be knocked down again by Endor.  She’d drifted about the Remnant for a bit, attempting to resurrect her career with which ever warlord was Emperor of the Day.  Sadly, she’d chosen poorly – several times.  In the end Driver’s blanket call for officers had found her commanding a patrol skiff in the Corellian Defense Force.  Geordi knew talent on sight, and she had it.  He’d commissioned her a captain and put her on Targus’ staff so he could keep an eye on her development.  With the arrival of Stormz and Bacredi, Targus was no longer needed on the Animus and sent to a craft more in line with his skill level.  Malou had slid seamlessly into his role.

“Yes Captain, what is it.”

“You asked to be notified when Engineering had finished the hyperdrive calibrations.  We are green lighted on all boards.  The ship is at your disposal,” confidence fairly beamed from his comm unit. 

“Thank you Captain.  Kindly take the Duke to the following coordinates.”  His prosthetic left hand lightly flicked a small touchpad on the armrest shooting the preloaded destination to the navcomps and to his Executive Officer. 

One, two, three, four…

“M’lord, This setting is for the other side of the Core,” confusion permeating her every word.

“Yes it is Captain.  Do you have a problem carrying out my order?”

A hurried stammer echoed across the bridge, “N-no M’lord, it’s just that the gravitational fields in the Core will radically unbalance the hyperdrive.”

“Then I suggest you find a way to keep them IN balance Captain.  You have eight hours to take this ship to N’zoth and back.  You are on the clock as of now.”

Let’s see what you’re made of young lady

A breathily muttered word wafted across the comm, a sigh, and a stoic, “Yes M’lord.”

“Good, and do bring yourself to the bridge.  Engineering is no place for the captain of the Fleet flagship to be.”

“Yes M’lord.  On my way, “the steel in her voice hid most of her trepidation.  N’zoth and back was at least a ten hour hop…the long way around.  She would have to rely on her raw crew to do it less time and take a short cut through the Core.  The Core route was a dicey situation at best, on a timetable with a notoriously cranky Admiral breathing down your neck – borderline stupid.

Geordi chuckled to himself.  He’d discussed this trip with Chief Shlii earlier in the week.  He’d assured him it was doable, but challenging.  A challenge was what he was looking for.  The Iron Duke was new, so new the tags were still on his bunk.  He wanted to scuff the paint bit and see what she was capable of.  The same was true of his new XO.

The hiss of the opening tubolift alerted Geordi to the arrival of Malou.  She was a somewhat typical Corellian.  She was tall and lithe, with a look of defiance in her eyes.  He liked that arrogance.  He hoped it was just a byproduct of the skill within. 

For the final outfit of the Duke, Driver had his command chair transferred from the Animus…with some slight modifications.  Owing to the expanded size of the Duke’s bridge he’d had the seat placed on a podium some two meters high.  He’d wanted to be able to look all the bridge stations in the eye during battle and a floor level chair did not allow for that.  He’d also had a secondary conn placed at the foot of his for the XO to use.  She moved to it, nodded her salute and took her place.

“You have the Conn Captain.”

“Aye, M’lord, “with those words she set the bridge to battle stations.

The masking shields that covered the bridge stations faded.  A cacophony of commands, reports and alerts filled the room.  A heads up holo appeared before the young officer as her hands darted from one control to the other. 

“All stations prepare for hyperdrive.  Jump on my mark.” She paused briefly to check one last sensor, “Mark.”

The whole of the galaxy exploded into a panorama of diagonal lines as stars screamed by the windows.  The Iron Duke winked out of existence over Ator, bound for N’zoth.  Geordi sat quietly on his dais, observing, absorbing.  He watched as Malou poured over the data from Engineering, Navigation and the Comms.  Occasionally she tweaked an injection nozzle that she deemed in need of immediate tweakage, but on the whole she let her crew do their jobs.  The clock was running and for all her current good work, time was against her.

Driver sat silently as the ship lumbered to a halt over the homeworld of the Yevetha.  His gaze fixed solidly on the Corellian. 

“Hard about Mr. Torybee.  Return course.  Coordinates plotted and sent.  Jump on my mark.  Mark,” her voice was firm and confident.

Driver eyed the plot of the return arc.  It was flatter this time; more daring than the outward bound trip.  She knew she was pressed for time.  He sat silently.  The chrono became her enemy.  He could see her movements gaining a staccato signature.  The orders more clipped and curt, the stress was becoming apparent.  The hours evaporated as Ator grew closer and closer.  The new Imperial-class ship thrummed as her engines drove them closer to home. 

A vermillion dot pinged the upper edge of her command holo.  It pulsed menacingly as she sprang to read its data.  Swiveling to the left she called out a lieutenant commander in the engineering bay to deal with the cantankerous reactor or place his career in serious jeopardy.  The flashing eye lingered as the junior officer struggled with the unit.

“Fix that now Mister or I’ll fix it for you,” her tone promised more than just an assist. 

Frantic hands on both the bridge and in the reactor room managed to gain control again and the red faded back into its normal verdant state.  The Iron Duke returned to her home port, looking much the same as she did a few hours before. 

“Report Mr. Malou.”

Turning to her Prince, “All stations report full stop. We are in geosynchronous orbit over the Ratselhof, M’lord.”

“Running time of the operation?”

Brushing the controls she pulled the information.  Driver could see the confidence ebb out of her, “Ten hours, 9 minutes and 39 seconds, M’lord.”

Driver nodded, leaned forward and down at the dejected officer.

“Excellent, job Captain.”

Her confusion was palpable.  She eyed her commander with a questioning gaze.

“N’zoth is how long of a hop via standard navigational charts?”

A crisp, “10 hours 29 minutes, M’lord” followed.

“You did it in 10 hours 9 minutes and change, correct?”

“Yes M’lord, “still searching for understanding.

“You came in twenty minutes under standard.”

“Yes, M’lord. However you told me I had eight hours to do it in.” she stated.

“Yes I did.  Did you shirk your duties or take the ship down an unsafe course and push her well beyond her capabilities?”

She stiffened and slightly bristled, “No Sir, I did not.”

“So you brought her in as hot and fast as you could, at full battle stations, ready to meet any foe.”

“Yes M’lord.”

“Then you followed the spirit of my order Captain, not merely the letter.  Lesser officers would have pushed the ship beyond her limits, or taken her down an unsafe course, or lowered the shields to divert the energy to the engines…any of those three would have resulted in your failure for this particular drill.”

Geordi rose from his chair, descended the stairs and looked the young woman dead in the eye.

“Congratulations Captain on a job well done.  You have the conn still.  I’ll be in my quarters.” 

The bridge crew snapped to attention as the Prince Admiral made his way to the turbo, his dark mood somewhat lessened as he entered the lift.  For a moment, all seemed right – an all too brief moment – but a moment none the less.

Ruwe tapped a few controls inside the cockpit of his personal TIE/v38 ‘Phantom’ Advanced Starfighter. Adjusting his course, he punched in the hyperspace coordinates of the designated planet. A second later, and the name of planet appeared on his display along with information about the planet. It seemed one ‘Geordi II Atrasin’ was the Prince Admiral and Duke of Ator. Well, well, well. Seems you have quite the status now Driver. Let’s find out why you sent me the coded message Driver. Punching the hyperspace forward, the stars elongated into long streaks of light, passing by the cockpit faster than Ruwe could even begin to calculate. Before he knew it though an alarm beeped saying he was about to drop out of hyperspace. Let’s hope that all the shit I had to go through to get here was worth it Driver.

Ruwe remembered back for the last few days of all the political stuff he had to go through. First he had to make a leave pass and give it to his Flight Leader. Then he also had to make repeats and send them to both his XO, and his CO as well. After that he had to have a small meeting to ensure that his excuse for his leave was good enough, since he had only just returned to active duty. Their excuse at first for not letting him go was that he didn’t need to go gallivanting around the galaxy again on some personal mission again. Frakking big wigs and all their political do-da’s. After quite some time of convincing though, Ruwe managed to get his leave on the grounds of a big ceremony being held on Kashyyyk. At least no one will be the wiser to this lie, not even Stormz since we were born on different continents and held different traditions and ceremonies in our villages.

Ruwe snapped back to the present again and started plugging in his hail message. Turning on smaller sensor jammers, he waited to drop out of hyperspace. At least I won’t get blown to bits immediately this way. I’ll have a chance to say something before getting blasted. Ruwe held his breath as the long streaks of lights slowly started to form back into mere pinpricks of light. Sending his message, he no more than had put his hand back on his controls and a response message flicked on his comm. Gee, that was fast. I guess someone was more than actively anticipating my arrival. Tapping the touch screen he brought up the message. Not much of a message, looks more like just coordinates for where someone wants me to touch down. Docking bay 319, aboard the HFS Iron Duke.

Ruwe tapped some controls and let his sensor jammers fade away. Probably knew exact location right down to the aft wingtips anyways. Ruwe set the autopilot for the designated coordinates and let his ship do the rest. Unbuckling himself he reached around the cockpit and gathered what little gear he had. Standard routine it seemed anymore. Holstering his pistol, crouching enough to sling his personal blaster rifle over his shoulder, tucking his Ryyk Kerarthorr blades in their assigned sheathes, and grabbing his small pack and just holding it in his hand.

Ruwe felt his craft jolt slightly as it was taken into a set of holding locks. Popping the hatch he hopped out of his craft and landed easily on the deck. Ruwe had no more time than to take a quick breath in, and there was a deck aide in front of him. Ruwe looked the aide up and down quickly, while the aide droned on about docking, procedures on ships and so on. It’s a wonder he hasn’t been shot yet just from talking. At least if he’s going to babble on about the ship he better start saying something that’s worth my time.

“..if you would like while during your stay here, we can do some touch up on the engines and..”

“[That’s quite alright.]” Ruwe quickly cut the aide off. Anymore of his incessant talking and I’m going to rip off his hand and make him choke on it so he shuts up. “[If you don’t mind though would you mind telling me where on this ship I should go right now to see Drive...er...I mean the Prince Admiral? I know he’s not one for lounging about in some command chair waiting for the rest of his gray hairs to grow in.]” Ruwe almost laughed as the face of the aide was in almost complete disbelief of the way he had probably ‘disrespected’ the Prince Admiral in his eyes.

“Well sir, I should say that I think he has gone to the training rooms. Those are located closer to the aft sir on the port side. Are you there isn’t anythin..”

“[That’ll be all then. And again, no there isn’t anything I want you to do to my ship. Just put the fuel in her and that’s all. Have a good day.]” Ruwe quickly made his way over the turbolift at the far end of the hangar. I swear that if he said two more words, just two more.. Ruwe snarled at himself in vexation. Two pilots in the area heard him snarl and quickly made it their business to go and check out another part of the hangar at the opposite end. Well G, let’s hope you like your training long and arduous still. I really don’t want to have to go all the way to the bridge to find out why I’m here.

OOC:

941 words. Just getting this post up so I'm in on things..i obviously came later then everyone else so i got to miss all the fun briefings ...so Driver if you want you can throw me around in your post or i can do a continuation of this one, just lemme know where to go next on IRC