Station Cappadocious, above Abrae, 11ABY

The swirling never ended.  Change was a constant.  So much so that it became routine.  He let the oxymoron settle in.  The Walls holo-painting in his office had not shown the same alignment in the three years since he placed it there.  A few more had joined it; a Chusar purchased by Corusca, a Palo found on Vuma, and a Grunda he kept just because it made people angry.  He stared at the Walls, it helped him think.  He could lose his right brain in the visual while left braining some Academy minutia.

“[Are you listening to me,] “came an exasperated tone?

“No.”

Driver turned to face Naval Executive Officer Stormz.  The towering Wookiee had a look that would cow most humans.  A dark scowl creased his tufted face. His lips, slightly peeled showed his lethal canines.  Walking toward the desk on which he was perched Driver patted his old friends arm. 

“I was lost in the moment, please continue.”

The Wook sighed and glanced sideways at Jaden, “[As I was saying, recruitment is down and we’re starting to run short of pilots. YOU need to speed up the training on these noobs.]”

Seating himself Geordi looked at the Javelin Wing Commander, “Which do you want, good pilots, or dead pilots…I can give you both.”

“I want good AND fast.” His tone showing this argument had lasted longer than he thought it should.

Geordi understood the pressure he was under.  The VE had been growing incrementally and steadily since he deeded the Atoran Hegemony to them.  They’d held those worlds and added several more since, and the Starfighter Corp was beginning to feel the strain.

“I can give you one or the other, but not both.  I told this to Den just the other day.  If you want old-school Imperial cannon fodder, fine, but remember it’s not my budget those new TIE’s comes out of.”

Line Captain Khaar threw his hands up in frustration, “I’M NOT ASKING FOR KOWAKIAN MONKEY-LIZARDS, I JUST NEED SOME DAMN PILOTS!”

“And you will get them, when they are ready. Quality over quantity someone once said.”

Jaden glared at Driver for using his own words against him.  The two had what could best be described as an ‘adversarial’ relationship, at worst, ‘abject hatred’.  G knew this.  Sometimes he used it to his advantage, most times he tried to move past it, and a few times he gave in to it.  He regretted those moments.  Either way, both men had one goal, the betterment of the Navy, and that was why they were here.

Normally, Jaden would be on patrol with Javelin Wing and Stormz would be either on the Atrus with Denethor or touring the Fleet.  Today, though, they were in his office berating him to send them sub-standard pilots because of the Annual Naval Review.
  Every year, each and every captain of each and every ship in the whole of the Vast Empire descends on Abrae, specifically Cappadocious Station, to review their tactics and plan the coming year’s campaign and Fleet needs.  The two week event covered every aspect of naval life from Star Destroyers to urinal cakes.  It was also, one of Captain Atrasin’s busier times.  Several dozen ship’s captains had taken the opportunity to run through the Ship Captain training course.  He’d personally signed off on eight trainees himself.  Rocket and the VENA staff had covered the rest.  Commodore Stormz himself had run thru the simulation for a refresher; can’t have the Fleet XO looking rusty. 

‘Gentlebeings, we can continue to belabor this point or we can just accept it for what it is.  J, I give you my word that I will direct more Trainers to concentrate specifically on pilots.  I will NOT lower the standards, but I’ll see what I can do about shrinking class size.  That should help speed a few things along.  Stormz, I promise that I will let you know the moment ANY pilot is ready for placement.  See, I’ve hot-buttoned your holo.  That, is the best I can do.”

Neither officer was pleased, but they knew they’d get nothing more from the Atoran.  Stormz broke the long awkward silence, “[Alright, now that this is done, we need to get to the Main Hall.  We are already very late to the commencement dinner, and you know how Den is if you’re late.]”

Driver rose from his chair and walked around to the door, “Blame me, Den will believe that.”

Jaden quipped as he passed, “Oh, don’t worry, I planned to.”

The Wook rolled his eyes and followed him out into the reception room and adjoining passageway.  The trio walked in silence to the Main Hall of the Academy.  The Main Hall was large enough to accommodate the assembled commanders for their final meal together.  Usually this was a more relaxed event.  Joking, story swapping, food and drink were flowing freely, and the awarding of promotions, medals and special awards affectionately known as the ‘Dennys’.

They entered the hall well into the dinner service.  Stormz and Driver took to the NHC plank and Jaden sat at the senior commanders table.  Flanking the NCC both officers got a bit of ‘The Look’ from the Old Man.

“Soooo, nice of you to join us,” sarcasm dripping off of the Admiral's every word.

Pointing to his left, “[Apologies, Sir…it was Driver’s fault.]”

Denethor turned to the NTO, “Yes sir, all me, “he held out his hand and slapped the back of it, “bad…bad Driver.”

The Admiral produced a brief choking snort that was dismissed as a laugh by both officers.  Den had a way of showing his disapproval; this was one of his well document ones.  Stormz, was distracted by a captain near the left of the room suddenly pitching over.  He was about to call for some assistance when three more dropped to his right. And another two fell at the same table with Jaden.  Fear shot through him, poison.

“[DON’T TOUCH THE FOOD, ITS POISONED!]” He roared.  Turning to Den he caught a glimpse of Atrasin catching the NCC as he too pitched over.  “[GET HIM TO SICK BAY, NOW!]”

Hoisting the limp commander with his prosthetic arm the NTO bolted from the table.  Seeing Jaden give an all clear on his part, Stormz raced after the cyborg and his stricken boss.  Driver was fast, but the Wookiee had his claws out and was faster still.  He passed Geordi and acted as a plow, clearing anyone who got between him and the med center on board Capp Station.  Within scant minutes they deposited the pallid, limp body of their boss in the arms of the doctor and his team.  2-1B droids attempted to push them out only to be met by the wrath of an angry Wookiee.

“Move now or he’s dead. I can’t have you hovering over me while I work, “shouted the stations CMO.
Reluctantly, both officers withdrew.  Momentary confusion and displacement overcame them.  Their thoughts ran wildly until Geordi broke for the door.

“[Where are you going!?]” cried Stormz.

‘Back to the hall, J may need help!’

Krazanr snapped out of his fog and joined Driver in racing back to the Main Hall.  Geordi arrived first.  Stormz found him standing in the door. 

The bodies were everywhere.  Some were slumped over the tables were they sat, some had managed to stand before falling, some had even made it a few steps…but the carnage was great.  A scant few beings clung to life and were being helped by medics and other sailors. 

Jaden stood there, quietly.  Stormz moved to him.  “They fell like dolls. One after another, they didn’t stop.” A tremor ran through his words.

They were all seasoned warriors.  They had all witnessed carnage and unspeakable horrors on the field of battle and in the void of space, but they had never witnessed anything like this.

Several hours later…in the Sickbay of Station Cappadocious

“He’ll live.”

Not many beings can claim they heard a Wookiee sigh, but Jaden and Driver could.  The assembled trio had sat vigil in the waiting room until the doctor delivered the prognosis on Denethor.

“He’s weak, and will be for some time to come.  Synox.  Nasty stuff; colorless, odorless, tasteless and supposedly lost to time.  Well, whoever found it, made it work.  He was nearly dead when you brought him in.  This one goes on my resume.  You can talk to him, but only for a few minutes.  When i say you go, you go. Understand?” the lecture stopped as he accepted their nods and waved them in.

Floating like a Doshian Jellyfish in his bacta tank the NCC looked like a baby in a womb.  The monitor leads, med lines and facemask gave him the appearance of some sort of mecha-symbiot.  His eyes flickered weakly, unfocused to the three blurs that entered the room.  He felt the slight difference in pressure as each of them pressed their hands against his tank.

‘Stormz’, the word crept from his mouth

‘[Sir,]’ replied the XO.

Haltingly, “You’re...in command…now.  I’m…no…well.”

“[Yes, sir,]” Krazanr understood his duty.

“J…”

“Sir.”

“Make…them pay…,” his words trailing off.

The doctor moved to the tanks controls, “Out, all of you now. He’s done for the foreseeable future. No more visitors till I say so.”

Slowly they made their way out of the room, pausing briefly in the antechamber; Stormz spoke quickly and authoritatively, “[Den’s office now. Driver call Bacredi in too.  J get me all of the most senior pilots in the wing.  I want them assembled in his…my…office in fifteen minutes.  Go.]”

Both men worked their comm units as they followed the loping gait of the new NCC towards his office.  Along the way he’d received a report on the casualties.

“32 dead, 26 gravely ill and not expected to live, 6 survivors…including ourselves,” Noted Jaden flatly, “This is worse than Lehon.”

Driver took the dig, because it was true.

At least at Lehon we took some of them with us

They arrived at the NCC’s office as Bacredi did.  The head of Naval Intelligence seemed to be everywhere he was needed, and a few he was not. 

“I heard about the attack sir, my operatives are on it now, “crisp professional promise dripped from his words.

“[Make it fast; I want blood on my Ryyk Blades yesterday.]” he wurfed

Stormz shuffled a few papers and keyed the Admiral’s safe, removing several key cards and snapping them.

“Pilots are assembled now.” Shouted Driver poking his head in the office door.

Stormz moved from around his desk and into the reception area of the office. 

“[Pilots, today the Vast Empire has been attacked by an unknown enemy.  A cowardly and base enemy that chose not the honor of open combat on the field of battle, but the deceptive and craven way of poison.  Our commander, Denethor, has fallen, but he still lives.  Unfortunately, many of our comrades were not as fortunate.  We lost many fine commanders today. We are now weakened and exposed.  We need YOU to fill that gap and keep the Vast Empire safe and secure,]” he paused to let that sink in and proceeded, “[As of now I take command of the Vast Empire Navy as Commander in Chief.  I have been raised to the rank of Rear Admiral and this command is secure.  I am appointing Captain Atrasin as my Executive Officer and Chief of Naval Operations.  He is being promoted to Commodore.  I am tasking Second Lieutenant Bacredi with the task of finding out WHO is responsible for this attack, and I am appointing Line Captain Jaden as our Chief of Naval Warfare to deliver the rightful punishment to them.]”

The Wookiee handed a padd to Jaden and one to Driver, they both read and thumb their signatures.

“[I now need each of you to accept a mission you have not been trained for.  I need each of you, our most experienced and highly trained pilots, to step into command roles.  Mr. Kharr, read the assignments please.]”

Jaden cleared his throat and proceeded.  In a matter of minutes all former TIE jockeys had new roles and positions.  They nodded their agreement, asked some questions, pertinent and silly, and all, to a being, drew themselves up for what was about to come.  The Vast Empire was at war.

“[Gentlebeings, man your ships.  Learn them well and get to know your crews, they hold your life as you hold theirs.  You have a short time to shakedown these craft.  Do so starting now.  Then, in time we will go, hunt, and KILL…may the gods have mercy on our enemies, FOR WE WILL NOT.]”

OOC:

this is the new all navy story. for the most part, you all already know your assignments. there is a Discussion thread for this story on Comnet...use it. talk to each other.  You are now in the 'Shakedown' phase of this operation.  Get to your ships, introduce your crew to the rest of the Navy and learn your ships.  the next phase will be announced in time.  Good Luck.

Arthur walks down the halls of the Cappadocious with his gear and spice lock-box in tow looking for the docking port for the Warden Class Light Cruiser Amaranth.  He reviews the map on his data-pad over and over till he has the location memorized.  When he had it memorized he sent a message to the Watch Commander who was to be his First Officer.

This is Warrant Officer 1st Class Arthur Dragon I have been given command of the Warden Class Light Cruiser Amaranth, and I'll be there in five minutes.  When I get there have the officers meet outside my quarters for details on what went down. When he finished he put the pad back in his pack, and continued on his way.

He made his way to the ships airlock in rather good time.  When he got there Leading Crewman Hekev Hamoev one of the Naval Security Trooper was waiting for him to arrive.  When he saw Arthur he walked up saluted then grabbed Romanflame's gear and spices.

"Follow me, and Ill lead you to your office before dropping this off at your room, Sir." Hekev said.

"Has both of the rooms been cleared of Warrant Officer 1st Class Seth Abltozes things?" Arthur asked.

"Yessir." Hamoev replied.

Arthur began to followed him to his new office.  He saw the officers waiting for him there they perked up and saluted.  Arthur returned the salute and opened the door and let them fall in.  Arthur moved to behind the newly cleaned desk, and began his meeting.

"Many of our own officers were poisoned today during the dinner service.  As of right now we have no idea of who did it but I have received word that the VEI is looking for clues to find out who we are now at war with.  From what I have been told there are 32 dead, 26 gravely ill, but only 6 true survivors.  Your previous captain was one of the confirmed dead.  Our commander, Denethor, has fallen, but thankfully he still lives.  Rear Admiral Krazanr is now Commander in Chief of the Vast Empire Navy." Arthur said.

The room was dead quite for a few minutes when Master Chief Petty Officer Ariyn Holts began to speak. "What are your orders sir?"

"Right now your in command of the ship while I get my quarters squared away and to draw up our training plans. Dismissed."  Arthur said.

They all left him alone in his new office.  He got up and walked over to the Security Trooper who dropped his thin off.  Hamoev saluted once again.  "Yessir?" he asked.

"Can you take me to my quarters I haven't downloaded the map yet?" Arthur asked.

"Yessir, Right away Sir." Hekev replied.

Arthur was lead to his room, and thanked the Security Trooper.  He walked over to his things, and began to put them away.  Once his room was set up he downloaded the map and grabbed the few things he was going to put in his office.

He made his way to his office stopping every now and again to salute back.  When he was in his office he began to look over the whole ship as he never been on one or anything similar.  He started to write up his training plan when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in." Arthur said, "What can I do for you?"

Warrant Officer 2nd Class Jason Womack the Chief Engineer walked in.  "Its not what you can do for me really, I was told by the former captain to repair the holo-pad in here. Sir."

"Oh, ok do you need me to leave for you to do this?"

"No, Ill just come back when your ready to leave. Sir." Jason replied.

"Well I was going to write up my plan before I took a tour of the ship but since you need to make a repair in here Ill change that.  So don't let me get in your way."  Arthur said.  He walked over to the door and started to look around the ship.

The first place he went was the Bridge, but made sure it was clear he was not on duty.

"What can I do for you Sir?" Ariyn asked.

"Nothing I'm just getting a feel for the ship I will be taking command of."  He replied.

"Susan show him around the ship."

"No need I'll find my own way just return to what ever you were doing."  Arthur said.  With that he began to walk around the ship getting a feel for it and learning where everything was located.

OOC:

766 words. Full crew list found at Light Cruiser Amaranth wiki page.

Tragedy.

These were the only words that could be used to describe the sheer disaster of what had occurred a short time beforehand. What was left of the members of the Vast Empire Navy stood few and far between, having been stricken with such a horrible woe than none could compare. For an instant, they all seemed to take a moment of silence for those who had perished, and those who were lain on their death beds. But this did not last for long. Each and every individual sprang to action almost immediately; reparation smelted into each and every one of their sorrowing minds.

I can't get the picture of those helpless souls clinging to their lives out of my mind. Those poor bastards didn't even see it coming...this makes me sick!

As the Line Captain tried to wash the images from his mind, he proceeded to gather his things and exit the chamber. Nearly free and clear of such a crowded area, he was pulled neck and neck from them by the one they called "Ironside."

"We all have a duty to accomplish here. Both you and I sit on different sides of the spectrum, but we have a common goal," said the well suited officer, giving Jaden a firm slap on the back.

Jaden glanced up, and two men locked eyes for a moment, as if somehow putting everything behind themselves for the sake of a much larger issue. Each man knew his place, but the matter at hand drew much more attention than such a petty altercation. It was now a time of war; things were going to be much more crucial than worrying about crunching numbers and pushing papers.

Escorted by two heavily armed individuals, the former Javelin Wing Commander made his way to the docking bay where he would be shuttled to the Victory II-class Star Destroyer Dead Gun. Throughout the halls of the station, chaos ran rampant. Officers and staff alike rushed around like madmen. A rush of adrenaline poured into his anatomy as he began to play through his head what the future would hold. Many of it was undetermined at this point, but something like this would not be overlooked. Much planning would go into the counterinsurgency against the cowards who shattered the entire structure of what was known as the Vast Empire Navy.

Now being shuttled to the Dead Gun, the hologram vid sprang to life as Jaden contacted his right hand man - Lt. Commander R.T. Harriss. The two had known each other throughout their entire careers within the Vast Empire Navy. Many a battle had been fought side by side between them; this was the first person that needed to be sought after in a state of emergency in an attempt to settle the crew in on what was to be expected out of them.

The hologram unit sprang to life, presenting an image of a large man in uniform, arms folded with a look of great concern.

"J, good to hear from ya. I've already heard about what has happened," said the man, with a heavy drawl in his accent. "The entire command is on edge waitin to hear a sitrep."

Jaden gave out a long, irritable sigh, "I'm sure they are old friend, but things are much more significant than their mindset." Running his hands over his face in distress, Jaden continued. "I will arrive momentarily. First thing is first - place the entire ship on high alert and lock down. Nobody enters and nobody exits without my authority. I'm not sure who we can trust anymore Ray."

The large black man chuckled a bit, "I know who I can trust, my good old DL-22." Jaden could see a smile on his face as he showed the blaster on the video unit screen, "and of course, my commanding officer."

"Affirmative on that one. See you on the other side."

Jaden cut the link and stood up in the shuttle as the docking procedures began. Many a time had the man feared who he could, and could not confide in for times such as these. It was established throughout the entire faction that treason was the most intolerable act known to any individual affiliated. Therefore, this person or people involved would be sought after and dealt with accordingly; an act of this capacity could not have been arranged without someone on the inside.

Dracule “Drac” Mihawk smiled as he shrugged into a flight suit, pleased to feel the sleeves stiff with the long rank insignia of a Warrant Officer 1st Class. He’d been away too long and the familiar uniform felt good. Now he was on Station Cappadocious, suiting up after returning from his leave of absence. As he finished adjusting the flight suit his left hand idly rubbed the opposite shoulder, unconsciously checking for soreness or other remnants of the blaster bolt he’d taken there. It had happened during the final assault on Delgra the Hutt’s stronghold. He’d been leading the assault, as was his nature, and had been the first to burst into the crimelord’s throne room.

Oddly, the hutt had been alone, though he did hold a blaster pistol. True to form, the worm had tried to bribe and negotiate his way out. He hadn’t finished the sentence before he ate Drac’s blaster bolts. What the Mon Cal hadn’t known, though, was that the hutt mobster was also holding a dead-man switch. It fell from his fat hand when he died, activating automated E-web emplacements that swung down from the corners of the room. Drac had reacted quickly, diving into his men to knock them back through the door. He didn’t quite make it through himself, though, and the left-side E-web’s bolt almost tore his shoulder apart and his arm from his body. Fortunately his team was quick to get him to triage and the 2-1B droids had saved the limb. He even had full mobility, a miracle in itself, through a star-shaped, ice blue scar the size of his fist marred the skin permanently.

An emergency tone sounded as Drac reached for his helmet. He snapped it up and whipped his comlink from its pocket in the same motion, “Warrant Officer Mihawk.”

A tense voice replied instantly, “Warrant Officer, you are to report to the Naval Commander in Chief’s office immediately. Repeat, drop everything and triple time it. Go!”

The hatch was already hissing closed behind Drac as he sprinted away, replying, “Understood.” In his quarters his helmet rolled to a stop against the leg of his desk, its empty eyes facing the silent room.

-----

Drac fell into formation along with a small crowd of other pilots, returning a nod of welcome from Slasher, one of his oldest friends in the fleet. Looking around, he noted several other old friends and plenty of unfamiliar faces besides. But one detail stood out: every being assembled there held Warrant Officer rank or better. Their faces told the story: veterans, every one of them. These were among the best the Vast Empire had to offer. That they were all assembled meant something big was going down.

He stood in the second row, so Drac leaned to the left slightly and rolled his eye to watch as Driver surveyed the group, then turned and stuck his head in the hatch leading to the NCC’s office. Kriff…something’s really wrong. When his old commander had been facing them, the Mon Cal had measured the expression on Driver’s face. He wasn’t the best at understanding human expressions, but only once could he remember seeing that level of brutal coldness on the man’s features- just after he’d lost everything at Lehon.

Moments later a familiar wookiee, the NXO StOrMz, strode out of the office and regarded the assembled pilots. Drac’s concern grew as he noticed the slight tic in his old trainer’s face, as if the wookiee was fighting to not bare his teeth. Then the furred officer spoke:

-----

“[Pilots, today the Vast Empire has been attacked by an unknown enemy.  A cowardly and base enemy that chose not the honor of open combat on the field of battle, but the deceptive and craven way of poison.  Our commander, Denethor, has fallen, but he still lives.  Unfortunately, many of our comrades were not as fortunate.  We lost many fine commanders today. We are now weakened and exposed.  We need YOU to fill that gap and keep the Vast Empire safe and secure,]” he paused to let that sink in and proceeded, “[As of now I take command of the Vast Empire Navy as Commander in Chief.  I have been raised to the rank of Rear Admiral and this command is secure.  I am appointing Captain Atrasin as my Executive Officer and Chief of Naval Operations.  He is being promoted to Commodore.  I am tasking Second Lieutenant Bacredi with the task of finding out WHO is responsible for this attack, and I am appointing Line Captain Jaden as our Chief of Naval Warfare to deliver the rightful punishment to them.]”

The Wookiee handed a pad to Jaden and one to Driver, which they both read and thumbed their signatures on.

“[I now need each of you to accept a mission you have not been trained for.  I need each of you, our most experienced and highly trained pilots, to step into command roles.  Mr. Kharr, read the assignments please.]”

Jaden cleared his throat and proceeded.

-----

Emperor’s black bones, Drac thought to himself as Jaden began to read of the names of pilots and ships, I knew it had to be something bad…but the bulk of the Ship Captains in the Navy either dead or incapacitated? No wonder the remaining command staff are so riled up. Of course they were targets too, and still might be. He paused considering that he now fell into the same category. Hmph. Well, should they try they’d better make a kriffing good show of it, or I and a lot of other really deadly people are going to enjoy their punishment. All the same…I think I’ll look into getting some sort of food-testing gadget. No sense in letting the same trick hit twice.

The Mon Cal’s attention came back to the man standing before them, “…rma, you are assigned to the Warden-class Light Cruiser Onyx. Warrant Officer 1st Class Mihawk, you are assigned to the Warden-class Light Cruiser Cerulean. Warrant Off…”

The Line Captain finished a few minutes later and Admiral StOrMz stepped to the front again, “[Gentlebeings, man your ships.  Learn them well and get to know your crews, they hold your life as you hold theirs.  You have a short time to shakedown these craft.  Do so starting now.  Then, in time we will go, hunt, and KILL…may the gods have mercy on our enemies, FOR WE WILL NOT.]” The last part was roared at a level that almost hurt the Mon Cal’s ears. Saluting in time with the other former pilots, he turned and began to jog toward his quarters. He’d need to find a terminal to determine the current location of his new command and was perfectly certain that all the terminals near the NCC’s office would be in use for quite some time to come. Add to that the fact that he’d need to gather what few possessions he had in his current quarters before heading over to the Cerulean and it simply made more sense to go straight there and use his private terminal to find the data he sought.

It seemed that several other pilots had the same idea, as a group of a dozen were heading the same general direction he was. The Mon Cal casually glanced around, measuring the expressions and body language of his fellows. Many he knew by reputation, several others from fighting beside them on one bloody field or another. Others had come to prominence during his absence and were completely unknown to him. Only two things seemed common between the varied beings: every face held an expression tinged with horror and seething anger, the desire for bloody revenge. And, more alarmingly, many held anxiety and nervousness. He understood the cause all too well…he’d felt the same way before he took command of the first ship of the Mon Calamari Knights’ Anti-Piracy taskforce. It was the look of a snubfighter jockey thrust abruptly into a fleet command role that he’d neither trained for even necessarily desired. Some were surely worrying about losing their new ships and the extreme cost to replace such equipment. Others must be more concerned with being responsible for a large number of other crewmen, crewmen who might not necessarily be able to defend themselves like even rookie pilots could. You can’t let it get to you, he thought to himself, you’ll drive yourself insane. Yes, do your best to protect your ship and crew…but…sometimes the best you can do is salute and pay your respects as part of your command dies in front of you…and then exact coldhearted, bloody vengeance.

OOC:

Got it up earlier than I expected.

Word Count: 1436

Stormz’ final roar of vengeance was finally beginning to subside in Driver’s ears as he made his way to his personal shuttle.  All of the other newly minted Captains were either on route to their craft via shuttle or down the spine of Capp station where some of the now leaderless craft were docked.  One of the few perks of being on the Naval High council, along with the free fruit basket and hand lotion, was access to a well maintained and heavily modified TIE shuttle.  He didn’t anticipate any issues between here and the Duke, but then again this morning he hadn’t anticipated replacing nearly all the CO’s in the Imperial Fleet.

He and his personal bodyguard settled into the two seats of the craft to the immediate left of the pilot’s pod.  Driver had absolute faith in the pilot; Jillee had been installed as his personal pilot shortly after he’d become the Commandant of the Academy.  Puttering around the Ratselhof serving drinks at receptions and other mundane tasks since the yacht had been vaporized was a waste of her systems.  She was too valuable a resource to leave coddling mid-level bankers and local dignitaries so he put the droid to work here and on his flagship.  Aboard the Duke, she and O11 could access information far faster than any recently birthed bridge officer with the creases still in his uniform could ever be.  In the past he’d chuckled about being the only Captain with a droid socket on his bridge.

Now, however, was not a time for mirth.  Now was a time for action.  Unfortunately, he did not know against whom to take the action.  Stormz had ordered a bug-out and the fleet was scattering.  Bacredi was taking the Daring and most of the Seventh to Epsilon, Jaden was taking the Dead Gun to Mangol, Stormz and the Atrus was going to Serek, leaving a small, but substantial force behind to cover Abrae.  He was taking the Duke home.  Ator was by far the safest place for him in the galaxy, and it was a place of limitless resources for him to plan for what was to come.

The shuttle lightly touched down in the main bay of the Imperial-class vessel.  Geordi quickly dismounted and made for the bridge.  Once aboard, the pretense of his bodyguard was no longer needed.  No one on board the craft would dare raise a hand to Atrasin.  The vast majority of were veterans of the Expansion Wars and had been aboard since their return to the VE.  He was as safe as if he were still in his nursery on Ator.  The way to the bridge was memorized at a genetic level for the Commodore.  He nodded absently to crew as he entered the bridge. 

Mallou was seated in her command chair to the right and below Geordi’s.  She’d grown into a confident and skilled Executive Officer in the four years since he’d taken her aboard.  Her service during the Expansion Wars and the several dozen minor and mid-major actions since rejoining the VE had won her several medals and commendations.  Several offers of command had crossed his desk for her, but she’d declined them all.

“Why would I leave the finest ship in the fleet, sir,” she’d say every time he offered her a ship of her own. 

He understood her well, and never marked it against her record.  Some foolish commanders would look upon it as a lack of ambition, Geordi knew better.

“Status Mallou.”

She stood and faced the CNO with a look of calm and assurance, “All systems green lighted and awaiting your command.”

“Excellent.  Battle stations if you will. Lay in a course for Ator, Flank speed.”

A crisp nod signaled acknowledgment as she motioned to an obviously new Bridge Officer whose name she as yet did not know.  He momentarily flinched; his movements’ jerky from lack of practice and repetition, muffled klaxons relayed the orders implementation to all.

Giving the young man a grim smile of approval she turned to the Commodore, “At your command, M’lord.”

Geordi smiled, he’d given up his royal affectations aboard ship when they’d been deeded to the VE, and some of his crew still used them.  He was vain enough to not correct them.

“Very well Commander, make the jump.”

The void above Abrae shattered and the ship was gone.

Several hours later…Huur Station, Ator

The Iron Duke sat tethered to the space station.  Umbilicals and gangways tied the ship to the 500 meter long station.  Scarcely three years old, it was the last of his major constructions.  It had already been underway when he’d turned over the Hegemony to the Vast Empire.  One of the smaller, less noticeable clauses in the treaty allowed him to retain several key portions of the former Fleet for his ‘personal’ use, this was one of them.  The station sat in a geo-synchronous orbit over the Ratselhof.  He’d entertained the idea of an elevator from the surface to the station, but dismissed it; he had better things to put those credits to.

From the Duke he’d taken a local Atoran Lambda-class down to the ‘Hof.  Bedav and the rest of the senior House staff had been waiting.  Once the craft touched down, the house shields were raised for the first time since he’d had to kill his uncle Alecc. 

Embracing Bedav the two moved into the building, “All is ready, the Druzba is loose and Corusca is making inquires as well.”

“Excellent brother, we have much to do, and little time to do it in.”

Drac frowned at the Quarren, an intimidating gesture from a Mon Calamari, “Trickery, Chief Petty Officer? Hardly. And I’ll thank you to be more respectful in the face of the tragedy the Vast Imperial Navy experienced today.”

Ludwig’s eyebrows rose and he tilted his head slightly, concern evident on his face, “Could you enlighten us, sir? What happened?”

Surveying the bridge, Drac saw the Comms center. He motioned toward it, “I’d rather only go over it all once. Please set me up to broadcast to the whole ship and crew.”

“No problem, sir.”

Once it was set up, Drac held the receiver before his mouth and began, “Attention crew of the LCR Cerulean. I am Warrant Officer 1st Class Dracule Mihawk. This transmission is to inform you about a tragedy that took place less than an hour ago and of the changes that are happening as a result.

“As you all know, your Captain, Warrant Officer Pradger, was among the officers invited to dine today with Admiral Denethor at the end of the Annual Naval Review. It is my sad duty to report to you that the diners, including the Naval Commander in Chief himself, fell victim to an attack most vicious and foul- a deadly, fast acting poison. Of the over fifty officers at that dinner, only six are confirmed as surviving the attack. Fortunately, Admiral Denethor survived the attack thanks to the quick response of several unaffected officers. However, he is in no shape to continue leading the Navy.

“Therefore, Naval Executive Officer Krazanr has assumed command as our new Naval Commander in Chief and is now a Rear Admiral. Captain Atrasin of the Naval Academy will be acting as his second in command and is now a Commodore. Other changes have been made as well, but only one more pertains directly to you and the Cerulean: By order of the Naval Commander in Chief Krazanr, I have been assigned to assume command of the Cerulean  in place of your fallen Captain.

“As of now the Cerulean is under 100% emergency alert. Effective immediately, all on-duty crew members are to report to battle stations and all off-duty crewmembers are to arm themselves and set about readying the ship for departure and inspecting it for any possible treachery. Mihawk out.”

Drac turned back to his First Officer to see that the man had gone as white as a sheet. Behind him the Quarren Chief Petty Officer’s facial tentacles writhed in agitation and Kora’s eyes and mouth had opened wide in shock. Before he could say anything, though, the Quarren blurted out, his fists and tentacles waving, “What in the name of the Sith are those nerfherders doing? You’re a fracking TIE pilot! Just look at the uniform! Who the hell would be so stupid as to put some idiot crate jockey in command of a warship? Marden, you should have been made Captain, you know it’s true! That would have been better. Anything would have been better. It was bad enough when there was only one fisheye on board.”

Behind the Quarren Kora had darkened in embarrassment, anger, and shame. Drac saw her glaring at the Quarren with ill-concealed dislike. Marden Ludwig’s mouth had dropped open and he stared at the Quarren in shock. Drac, for his part, looked at the agitated alien coolly. His voice calm, he spoke, “Master Chief, take two steps back if you please. Crewman, two for you as well.” As soon as the two had stepped away, the Quarren looking on in enraged confusion, Drac spoke to him, “Name, rank, and position, Mr.”

“Like hell.” The Quarren spat.

“Name, rank, and position.” Drac repeated, his voice still steely calm.

“Tlig Marril, Chief Petty Officer, Chief Engineer.”

“Thank you. Chief Engineer Marril, you will consider yourself on report, confine yourself to quarters when not on duty, and may consider any and all leaves cancelled for the next three months. Do I make myself clear?”Toward the end his voice became absolutely cold.

The Chief Petty Officer shook his head angrily and snarled, “Arrogant, high-handed fish! I don’t believe you.” He started reaching for the standard service pistol strapped to his hip, “We’ll hold you here while we contact the High Command about the New Republic spy we found.”

Drac’s hand flashed into a concealed pocket on his flightsuit, withdrawing a DC-10 blaster pistol, his signature weapon, before anyone could move. He leveled the pistol at the Quarren’s head, then spoke, “Mr. Marril. Your actions here today have been grossly disrespectful to the point where I have a very good case to try you for mutiny should I wish to. Given the state of affairs and the fact that you are interfering with the execution of lawful orders of the Naval Commander in Chief, I could execute you right now. Do you want any of that to happen?”

Marril blinked, hands spreading and opening to show a lack of aggression. However much he might dislike the situation, he wasn’t stupid enough to continue antagonizing an officer who’d suddenly proved very proficiently that he would maintain his authority. He stuttered, “N…n…no, sir.”

Marden, now even paler, spoke up quietly, “Sir, may I request that you not execute Mr. Marril? He and Warrant Officer Pradger entered the Academy together and have served together ever since. He is distraught and not thinking clearly.”

Drac considered for a moment before speaking, “Very well. Crewman Weasse, please disarm Mr. Marril and arm yourself with his sidearm. Once you have done that, please collect one other crewmember and escort him to his quarters and then lock them down, including communications.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” He turned back to Tlig, who was starting to realize the enormity of his transgressions. His posture had become slumped, fear and contrition emanating from his features. Drac lowered the pistol and spoke as Kora began to disarm the Quarren. “Mr. Marril. As we are about to depart, I will not have you taken to the Cappadocious for court martial at this time. You will be confined to quarters until further notice and are demoted to Petty Officer 2nd Class effective immediately…however, since we still need the services of our Chief Engineer, you will continue on your duty rotation. Consider that your opportunity to earn your continued service to the Vast Empire.” Drac fell silent, regarding the shivering crewman for a moment and re-holstering the pistol, then spoke again, “I am not without empathy, Mr. Marril. I too have lost good friends in the fighting- more than you can imagine. Perform your duties admirably and I will remove your restriction to quarters and no court martial will happen. Perform exceptionally and, just as any other crewmember, you will be rewarded with promotion. Your future is in your hands, Petty Officer.”

Kora had finished by now and, accompanied by a member of the Bridge crew who’d entered during the fracas, began to escort the Quarren from the room. Before he left, though, Marril turned back and looked at the new Captain. He spoke quietly, “I apologize, sir, for my extreme rudeness and insubordination…Th…Thank you for your restraint, sir.” Then they were gone.

The rest of the bridge crew turned as one to look at their new Captain, fear and uncertainty clear in their faces. He looked from face to face and sighed to himself. Great. Good job, Drac. Excellent way to kick things off. Out loud, he said, “I take no joy in this situation. I would be much happier had it not been necessary, and I sincerely hope that no similar action will be required of me again- but you now know that I will not back down from doing what must be done. That applies not only to discipline, but to duty and to your safety and wellbeing as my crew. Any of you who have questions may approach the Master Chief or myself at your discretion. Now, to stations, gentlebeings. We’ve got to be outbound as quickly as possible.”

Everyone broke for their consoles, with Drac walking over to the Captain’s chair in the center rear of the bridge. Marden followed, turning to stand on the right side of the chair as the Mon Calamari sat down. Drac closed his eyes for a moment, then murmured, “Keep me informed on morale, please, Master Chief.”

“Of course, sir.” More quietly, he added, “As well handled as it could have been, sir. Not many would have done better.”

“Let’s hope so.” Drac raised his voice, “Chief Pilot, please name yourself.”

A dark-skinned, swarthy human turned and raised a hand, “Here, sir. Petty Officer 1st Class Frett Groenvald reporting.”

“Thank you, Mr. Groenvald. Please inform me when we are ready to launch. If we’re still waiting on any supplies, leave them.”

The pilot’s reply came instantly, “Actually, we’re ready now, sir.”

“Excellent. Plot me a course for the Epsilon system. Weapons, name yourself and report on guns and shields.”

The one Rodian in the room turned and nodded, “[Leading Crewman Taggert Unos, Captain. Guns and shields are all charged and in readiness.]”

“Good work.” Spotting the empty seat where the Engineer would sit, Drac looked over at Chief Ludwig, “Master Chief, please locate the Engineer’s Mate and have him report for duty.” Looking back at the bridge crew, then out at the stars and deck plating spreading away from the ship, he added, “Communications, name yourself and pipe me through to Control.”

Another human male raised his hand while hitting several switches with the other, “Senior Crewman Jash Warnock, sir…You’re live.”

The dark skinned Mon Cal nodded, then spoke, “Control, this is LCR Cerulean requesting emergency clearance for outbound vector.”

The reply came instantly, “Cerulean, you are pre-approved for outbound vector. Safe journey.”

“Thank you, Control.” Looking back at the Petty Officer, he nodded, “Mr. Groenvald, get us moving.”

“Aye, Captain.” The gangway retracted, docking clamps unhooked with clangs that resonated through the ship, and the rumble of the Cerulean’s engines sounded to the aft. Then the station fell away in the viewport and the warship’s nose rose on its outbound vector. The Cerulean was on her way.

OOC:

Word Count: 1688

Kazack sat in the computer chair at the front of the bridge, his hands shaking. In less then a few moments whoever attacked them had destroyed the entire command structure of the VEN. The Bridge had just received a report on the casualties and Commodore Atrasin was expected to join them shortly. Who knows how many more casualties we will have in the following days and weeks!

Kazack thought to himself as he keyed a few buttons. Captain Malou seemed to be more and more on edge as they waited for the Commodore. Hell I would be too, if I were XO to that nutcase. Kazack thought, then it sank in. “I’ll have to tread carefully over the next few months, Kazack thought nervously, “and make sure not to piss anyone off. I would rather hate to prematurely end a great career lying dead on the deck.” As they waited for Commodore Atrasin, Kazack thought back over his posting, he had requested that he be transferred, as he felt that being on the bridge of a ship he was far less exposed then being on a TIE/IN. But nobody had expected that such a travesty would befall the VEN. “And I certainly didn’t intend to be on the bridge of HIS ship” Kazack muttered to himself.

Then suddenly the XO was at his shoulder. “Did you receive your orders from Commodore Atrasin Crewman?” Captain Malou asked Kazack. “No Ma’am I did not” Kazack replied, “I was put here on an emergency call for officers after the attack” Captain Malou did not seem pleased by this, she obviously did not see it as her duty to remind forgetful Bridge Officers of their orders. “Very well Crewman, give a bit of power for engines and prep the ship for jump” she said briskly. “But where are we going, Captain?” asked a confused Kazack. A ghost of a smile touched Captain Malou’s lips as she appeared to change her expression from disapproval to amusement in a matter of seconds. “Im sure you will find somewhere Bridge Officer,” She replied. Kazack keyed in the map as she walked away. He looked at the screen, only to reveal that he had brought up the incoming communications screen. “Frak” he muttered to himself and quickly changed it. He was still getting used to the keys on this terminal. He noticed that, because it was his first jump, Captain Malou had given him several possible destinations.

Lehon. Out of the question, Kazack thought, The Commodore would kill me if I jumped there

Tatooine. Possibly, on the other hands it’s controlled by the NR and we might have some trouble if we go in too hot.

Rodia. No, it’s overrun and there are republic mercenary recruiters there.

Overall, Kazack thought, A few bad coordinates. He turned on his swivelled chair and spoke to Captain Malou. “I don’t think any of those destinations would suit Captain” He said. Captain Malou smiled. “Well done Crewman, it seems you might make it here after all, now we wait for Commodore Atrasin to board the ship and let us know where we are going” She said. And realising that he was being tested, Kazack turned on the chair again and stared at the computer.

(Ten minutes later)

“Set coordinates for Ator, flank jump now,” Captain Malou ordered to Kazack as he fumbled over the controls. After finally setting the jump coordinates right, he fell back in his seat, he had been a Bridge Officer for less than an hour and he was already exhausted. He received a grim smile from Captain Malou for his efforts and half closed his eyes. He was so tired. After checking the engine one more time he asked that the officer on the next shift be sent in, he yawned, stretched and headed straight for his quarters. There would be time for socialising tommorow

OOC:

Word Count 664: Not as long as I would like, but enough to kick things off.

Petty Officer 1st Class Frett Groenvald sat at his console on the bridge of the LCR Cerulean, ahead and to port of the Captain’s chair, counting down the ship’s run to hyperspace, “Twenty seconds…fifteen seconds…”

A tone sounded, informing Drac that a priority message was coming in. He interrupted his Chief Pilot quickly, “Belay that, Mr. Groenvald, and standby for further instructions.” The dark featured human nodded and keyed a cancellation command in, then ran a hand over his short black hair.

Drac flipped a switch on his command chair and settled a headset awkwardly onto his large skull, “Captain Mihawk of the Cerulean speaking.”

A familiar voice came over the line, “Warrant Officer Mihawk, this is Captain Khaar of the Dead Gun.” Drac’s mind whirred through what he knew of the fleet. He’d known Jaden from Javelin Wing and held great respect for the man. If he was now in command of the Dead Gun, then it followed that he was…Taskforce Commander for Taskforce Resh, of which the Cerulean was a part. He paid attention as the senior officer continued, “I am taking the Dead Gun to Mangol in the Rheagent system. I would appreciate it if the Cerulean could join me there in orbit near the shipyards.”

“Of course, sir. Do you have any other orders?”

“No, nothing for now. While most of the fleet is scattering, I would like to gather a few ships together as insurance. Once you arrive you may make any repairs that may be needed to your ship and do some independent shakedown exercises. Just keep your eyes, ears, and sensors open.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Thank you. Dead Gun out.” Drac removed the ill-fitting handset, making a mental note to obtain a custom one at Mangol, and addressed the bridge, “We have a change in plans. Chief Pilot, is your course for the Epsilon system still laid in?”

White teeth flashed as the man smiled and nodded, replying, “Yes, sir. Shall I change it?”

Drac thought for a moment before speaking, “No…go ahead and run us up again. Give me a one minute microjump along that course, then drop us out of hyperspace. Once that’s done, reorient us on a course for Mangol, Lotaith’s moon, and execute a second jump.”

“Aye, Captain.”

A minute later the stars began to stretch into lines as the Warden-class Light Cruiser shot into hyperspace. A mere sixty seconds later they shrunk back to pinpricks, then began to traverse across the viewports from bottom right to top left as the craft adjusted course and attitude. Shortly thereafter they became stationary once more. Petty Officer Groenvald spoke again, “Course laid in for Mongol, Rheagent system, Captain.”

Drac nodded, “Execute.” As the stars stretched once more, the Mon Cal stood. He glanced at the hatch as Master Chief Ludwig entered, followed by a human woman. Though she was young and obviously fresh from the Academy, Drac understood enough of human culture to guess that her dark red hair, green eyes, and unblemished pale skin made her quite attractive by human terms. He returned the salute she offered him, then spoke, “You are the Engineer’s Mate?”

“Yes, sir. Crewman Trainee Stadine Grebble reporting for duty, Captain.” Her expression was slightly nervous, intimidation clear in her posture. She’d heard of the debacle from earlier.

Recognizing that, Drac gave her a friendly smile and nodded, “Excellent. I know it is not your usual duty rotation, Ms. Grebble, but I’m afraid I must ask you to man the Engineer’s station for the immediate future. Can you do that for me?”

Her posture relaxed at his polite words and she smiled back tentatively, “Certainly, Captain.” She saluted, then walked over to the indicated station, sat, and began to run through diagnostics.

Drac watched her for a moment, noting the relative unfamiliarity with which she handled the console. Ah well. She will improve with time- and I have a feeling that will be important. Then he looked back over to Marden, “Master Chief, you have the bridge. I will be arranging for the disposition of Warrant Officer Pradger’s belongings and inspecting the ship. Please reach me over the comm if anything comes up.”

“Aye, Captain. Should I send someone to assist you?”

“Please.”

Ludwig was silent for a moment, thinking, then nodded and brought his comlink to his lips, “Crewman Koth, please report to the Captain’s quarters with some flimsiplast crates.”

“Thank you, Master Chief.” Turning, Drac stepped through the hatch and made his way back the way he’d come thirty minutes and ages ago. As soon as the hatch hissed shut behind him his practiced posture loosened and his shoulders slumped a bit. He ran a hand over his barbels. That was…intense. Sure, I’ve done it before, but it’s always stressful at first with a crew that doesn’t know you. Overall, though, I’ve got a good feeling about them. I just hope Mr. Marril does not continue to be a problem. We’ve got few enough trained officers without having to court martial them.

-----

The dark blue Mon Calamari was laying a stack of uniforms on the bed when the hatch to his new quarters dinged a tone indicating someone was requesting entry. He walked over and palmed the switch, then stood back as an armful of collapsible boxes preceded a zabrak male into the room. The Crewman Trainee carried his load to the center of the room, then set them down. That done, he straightened and flexed his hands before turning to salute, “Crewman Trainee Serrian Koth reporting, Captain.”

Drac returned the salute, “At ease, Crewman.”

The Zabrak relaxed, then looked around the room, “So it’s true, I suppose.” Drac rotated his right eye to look at the alien quizzically, prompting him to continue, “About Warrant Officer Pradger, sir, and about you assuming command. It’s a shock for him to be the first one whose personal effects get boxed up for the next of kin.”

“I suppose so, Mr. Koth. With any luck, though, he will be the only one we’ll be performing the service to for a long time to come.”

“That I could drink to, sir.” The Zabrak looked around, “Where should I start?”

Walking back over to the bunk, Drac hefted an armload of clothes, “Let’s get all of his uniforms, clothes, and toiletries boxed up first. Once that’s done we’ll move on to any other personal items.” He walked over to the Zabrak as the latter set up the first box, then laid out the uniforms in the bottom.

The next few minutes were taken up with much the same sort of activity as the pair methodically emptied the closet and dresser. Drac had Crewman Koth carry the first two boxes to storage as he sat down and sorted through the desk, aware that it and the console atop it might contain sensitive information. He found nothing of import however, either in the desk or in the files of the holopad. Warrant Officer Pradger, it seemed, was exactly what he appeared: the Captain of a small warship who was engrossed in training his young crew and seeking avenues of earning a rank cylinder to adorn his uniform.

Crewman Koth returned for the third full box and the one empty one, then left to store them and then return to his normal duties. Once the hatch hissed shut, Drac began to unload his bags into the room that was now even more barren than before. His uniforms went into the closet, the other clothes into the dresser, and his personal effects into the desk. The variety of weapons he carried on occasion were either stored in the closet or hidden in locations inobvious but easily reachable. Aware that the Navy still didn’t know who’d managed to slip the poison into the space station, he took the precaution of donning his wrist sheath and then inserting his combat knives into their hiding places on his wrist and in his boot. He was sure some bureaucrat in the Administration would have a nerf if they found out he never went anywhere on the Navy’s ships unarmed -or anywhere else, for that matter- but he was equally sure he didn’t care. He hadn’t lived this long by being naïve or incautious.

Having finished arranging his quarters to his satisfaction, the ship’s new Captain began to tour through the ship, poking his head wherever he wished as he inspected the state of the vessel. Overall it was quite well maintained but, being approximately ten years old, there were things that needed fixing or upgrading. If I’m fortunate, J will let me requisition some refits once we reach Mangol. If we’re going to end up in an extended campaign trying to bring the killers to justice, I don’t want to worry about possible equipment failure.

His musings were interrupted by the insistent beep of his comlink. He held it to his mouth, “Captain Mihawk.”

It was Mr. Ludwig, “Sir, we’ll be arriving at the Rheagent system in five minutes. Do you wish to return to the Bridge for our arrival?”

“Yes, I will. Thank you, Master Chief.”

Drac returned to the Bridge and spent the next few minutes comparing notes with his First Officer on the condition of the ship. He returned his attention to the viewports as Pilot Groenvald called out the countdown, “…three, two, one…Welcome to Rheagent system.” The stars snapped back to glimmering pinpoints and Drac noted several planets and more moons in the area. Sensors showed all friendly, but he called out anyway, “Give me a sweep of local space. If it’s clear, take us in on a course for the shipyards over Mangol.”

Ten minutes later he was still observing when the white dagger-shaped hull of the Dead Gun materialized forty kilometers to starboard.

OOC:

Word Count: 1633

Casca was greeted neither by a liaison officer nor a Naval Intelligence Operative upon arrival on the Cappadocious, but rather, a squad of armed guards, several aiming their black E-11 blaster rifles at the center of his body.  The Chief Petty Officer placed his bag down by his feet and kept his hands visible as the squad closed in around him and confiscated his belongings.

"Chief Petty Officer Phennir?" the ranking officer questioned him while approaching, rifle in hand but pointing downward. The NCO seemed calmer than the group, more poise in the face of danger one would say.  Not that Casca was dangerous(to a fully equipped squad of stormtroopers at least) but given the situation Casca noticed the jitteriness of some of the greener members.  One fidgeting, another looking around as if he expected someone to jump up behind him, the entire squad looked on edge.

"Yes...um...Sergeant I presume. To what or whom do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Casca kept his composure, assuming this had to be related to the conditions of his recent absence, never suspecting any real trouble on board the station.

"You'll have to excuse the security procedures, but your possessions will be detained for twenty-four standard hours while we search them for contraband. Also, we will have to go through a quick pat down before a thorough persons check.  Any weapons you have on you, I suggest you yield to me now." The sergeant spoke sternly, but rehearsed as he explained the procedure to the Naval NCO.  Casca handed over a Kylon 3 heavy blaster by the barrel, followed by the two extra power cartridges. After a slightly homoerotic, and awkward, pat down, Casca was directed into a security holding cell where his clothes and personal effects were searched. Standing in just undergarments, Casca noticed how cold the station was.  It was usually cold on space stations, which didn't have engines running and exhaust heat to counter act the lack of sun on board.  Spacecrafts were always a bit less prone to hypothermia, especially in the engine bays where heat could reach 41 degrees standard.  Casca's uniform and id card was returned to him.

"When will I receive the rest of my belongings." Casca questioned, rather perturbed at the entire situation. No one had explained to him the increased security, and when he asked a passing STC or Naval member what was going on, they answered in a humble silence.

"They will be returned to you after a thorough examination for contraband.  You are advised to redress and proceed directly to your objective as wanderers and loiterers on board will be detained, questioned, and searched."

"I just want to know what's going on..."

"Directly to your objective sir!" The sergeant barked.  Casca grunted and stormed out of the security bay and into the corridor of silent, almost zombie-like imperial personnel.  Not wanting any more confrontation from the security officers, Casca proceeded to the Naval Recruitment Office which was conveniently located just down the hall from the main security office. Casca noted that new recruits awaiting assignment or transport to basic training must have a security check, and that the offices were close together for efficiency.  Imperial propaganda and artwork lined the hall up to the recruiting office.

The recruiting office notably less somber than the rest of the ship.  Piles of data pads covered unmanned desks and archivish shelves took up most of the walking area to the point that Casca had to squeeze sideways between them to get to the only officer in the Recruiting Bay.  The officer, about forty progressions old, bore a notable amount of stubble on his face and his uniform was wrinkled and sweaty.  His eyes were red and he seemed undoubtedly devoid of sleep. "You what do you need, I'm on my fifth energy stim today and I still have hours of work left." The man talked as if whole sentences were one word and didn't have time to add pauses for clarity.

"Chief Petty Officer Phennir.  I was told to report here for my assignment." Casca looked around for a chair amidst the piles of datapads but gave up, assuming the man didn't have time for ant type of admiral chit-chit.

"Do you see this mess do you know how busy I am. I have one hundred pilots that are supposed to report to my office before closing hours today and do you know how many show up? YOU that's it. Gimme something to work with I can't possibly remember all of your names! Emperor's Black Bones and Boots every kraytin pilot that walks in here thinks he's special" the wild eyed man started digging through datapads in the pile nearest to him, picking them up and tossing them into a pile on the other end of the room.

Casca couldn't help but be annoyed at the entire situation.  Here he was, trying to get back to duty, already going through a rather embarrassing security check, his possessions confiscated, the entire station on edge and him not have a clue why, and here was this nearly retired NCO in this disgrace for an Imperial office flinging datapads around him and holding him up.  He merely wished to get back to a squadron so that he could start flying again.

"I was a Major in the Galactic Empire before the Battle of Endor." Casca grunted as his disliked talking about his past.

"I have twenty files here on majors before the Battle of Endor. Gimme something else, what was your discharge. Medical, Honorable or Dishonorable"

Casca hesitated before muttering,"I was a Wing Adjutant in the 75th Fighter Wing."

"DISCHARGE, c`mon gimme something I can use."

Casca frowned, "Dis...Dishonorable." The old man tossed him a datapad and went back to digging in the pile.

"Thems your orders, now give me some peace so I can make sense of all this fodder." Casca stared down at the data paf for a few seconds, his eyes widening with a strange mixture of surprise and pride. He grinned...

[[OoC:I wanted to catch up to everyone in the storyline, but I already had to cut out a lot of material I was going to use just because I was behind]]

[Commanderr, I have uploaded the coorrdinates for ourr jump to hyperrspace. You may jump when rready.] Growled the Wookiee Commander.

Ph'rranix rose from his chair and walked toward the door, grabbing a comlink as he slipped out. Strolling to the bridge, the Wookiee clicked the comlink on and began asking for First Lieutenant Reese.

"Yes, Admiral, what is it?" The Ship XO clipped off hastily.

[Send a transmission to all the ships in the first, second, and seventh fleet and have the Commanding Officers prepare for a meeting in two hours.] Stormz bellowed back.

"Aye, Admiral," Cadie replied and flipped the comlink off. If it weren't for me, nothing would get done around here,[i] the Lieutenant told herself.

With a quick, and unexpected lurch, the Star Destroyer leaped into hyperspace, leaving Abrae empty.



The room was silent and empty, except for the Wookiee Admiral, and First Lieutenant Cadiee Reese. Waiting for the other commanders to link into the meeting room, Cadie came with a question for the newly made Naval Commander in Chief.

"Admiral, why do you single me out to do everything needed? I'm kinda busy ya' know."

[You also get things done when they need done. Is therre a prroblem with using you?] Stormz countered.

"Well, no, I suppose not, but I'd like to get my other duties done."

[Drrinking is not a duty,] chuckled the Wookiee. As he chuckled, the commanders connected and the room suddenly lit up with small chatter as the commanders finished giving orders on their own ships.

[Hello, gentlemen. So nice of everryone to attend. We have a lot of business to attend to, and not much time to complete it in. With that said, let's get starrted. Line Captain Jaden, you werre telling me earrlierr that you had something planned, please explain.]

OOC:

OK, for Jaden, Atrasin, and Bacredi, we are in a meeting. Jaden, go ahead and lay out your plans for what you hope to accomplish. Atrasin will follow (Jaden, at the end give the 'floor' to Atrasin), Bacredi will be the last to speak. Good luck

Kazack awoke in his Spartan, almost bare, quarters to find the Iron Duke docked at Huur Station on Ator, Kazack had never visited Ator, but it was not his job to be nostalgic. Kazack swiped his card on the door of his quarters and immediately began the short walk to the ship’s officers mess. Although he was still a Leading Crewman, his new position was technically an NCO position, so he had access  to the officer’s mess. He figured breakfast was the perfect time to introduce himself to his fellow officers and crewman.


Kazack took a spot in the line for the kitchen and looked around the dining hall, it was not exactly exquisite, but was good enough to satisfy an officer’s cravings for luxurious foods. Kazack was standing behind a female officer, whose ID Badge showed she was the same rank as him.

“May I please have the Monday special?” She asked the cook. Then she swivelled around, “Is there any particular reason your staring at the back of my head” She asked Kazack, looking him up and down.

“N—oo” replied Kazack not sure how this encounter would pan out. Her expression was one of distaste. Then she thrust out her hand. “Leading Crewman Mallie Marek, new to the VE and the Iron Duke.”

“Leading Crewman Fremen Talla, but please call me Kazack.”

Something about the name of the women set alarm bells ringing in Kazack’s ears, but he couldn’t place it. “Would you like to grab a table and we’ll sit down with my friends.” Mallie said, and then she turned on her heel and faced the cook again.

Kazack was stunned; he had NOT been staring at the back of her head and he had not anticipated another welcome from someone who was the same rank as him. Kazack ordered his breakfast and, barely a minute later, found himself sitting with Mallie and her friends.

“This is Petty Officer 2nd class Harry Woods, He is a medic onboard the ship” She said, and a human male nodded at Kazack. “And this is Chief Petty Officer Jane Oak, General Hand on the Iron Duke.” The only acknowledgement Kazack got from the Twi’lek was a curt nod. This should be interesting, he thought; let’s see how this pans out.

“This is LCRW Fremen Talla but he asks that you call him ‘Kazack.’ Mallie finished. They ate the rest of the meal, which passed amicably, they spent it talking and Kazack told them about his previous assignment and all the details of his only combat mission.

“Well I think we’ll all get some extra combat experience soon” Said Mallie, who was obviously the talkative member of the group. “Excuse me everyone, but I have to report to the bridge” Kazack said. He waved his hand and stood up and walked from the table, he had anticipated it would be bad, but it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Now Kazack was reporting to the bridge, it was his shift now after all!!!


“OOC: 504 words, yes short, no I do not care, I am still in the middle of work give me a break!!!”

What the frak is going on? There's security guards everywhere, people going in every direction... and I have enough trouble finding my way around as it is.

Feeling a bit uneasy, Maroy grabbed a random crewman and asked bluntly, "What happened?"

The man's face was a solemn frown as he answered her. "Someone poisoned most of the high-ranked officers. Apparently most of the captains are dead. Even the C-in-C had to be rushed to sickbay."

The Twi'lek reeled in shock. Who could have just slipped some poison into the food and wiped out that many officers without being detected? The question nearly answered itself. Zizi!

She rushed through the corridors, bumping into practically everyone in her way. She spat out a few apologies, but didn't slow. I have to stop her before she kills anyone else, no matter what she does to me.

Finally she spotted the crimson Zeltron exiting the squadron's quarters. She lunged at her, but Zizi was too fast. As soon as the traitor got clear, she waved over at two security guards.

"You two! Help me, she's a spy!"

"What? I'm not the spy, she is!"

The security personnel each held their blasters, unsure of who was lying. A small crowd gathered, trying to see what was going on. Zizi then threw herself at Maroy, slipping a datacard into the green woman's pocket while the view was blocked. Then she stood up, with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Check her pocket; she's been transmitting our secrets to the New Republic!"

"What are you talking about? There's nothing in my..." The datacard slipped out and pinged against the floor.
"Oops."

The first guard blasted her with a stun shot. Before she fell unconscious, she saw Zizi knock them down with ease and sprint down the corridor.

...

Maroy awoke and reflexively rubbed her Lekku near her old blaster burns. She realized that she wasn't restrained at all, which was an odd way to treat a captured spy. She turned toward the door and noticed the security guard who shot her.

"Ugh... what happened?"

"Oh, you're awake. I'm sorry about all that. We scanned the datacard and realized it was a fake, but by then Miss Lor was long gone. You're free to go for now, but Intelligence will want to follow up on this later. Better hurry, the Rhegents are set to ship out with the Dead Gun within an hour."

Maroy stumbled back to the pilots' barracks, where Ruwe greeted her. She managed a weak smile, and he grinned back.

"[I heard about what happened earlier. Good to see you're back on your feet.]"

"Thanks. I found out about Zizi weeks ago, but she threatened to kill me. At least she's gone now. I suppose the VEI will want to put me through another debriefing." She sighed. "Not like I haven't gone through enough of those lately."

Ruwe helped her finish packing, and then they set out together to meet up with the rest of Rhegent's Reign.

OOC:

501 Words. I know it's barely over the minimum, but I wanted to get this over with.

Senior Crewman Cevdis looks around the bridge as the senior officers of the ship leave via the lift to go to the Senior Staff Meeting Room. He is initially surprised at being instructed to take the Conn, but quickly realizes that he is the senior officer on the bridge and takes the center seat. He stares off into the view of Hyperspace as the ship continues on its way toward the rendezvous.

I sure hope the Captain is feeling well, I haven't met a Falleen before, but that is a positively ghastly shade of green.

“Status of engines Turruo?”

“Operating within normal parameters, we should be coming out of hyperspace and be getting ready for the second jump in about 40 seconds.”

“Very well, prepare to drop out of hyperspace.”

Cevdis looks back at the screen as the ship maintains its countdown and right on schedule drops out of hyperspace. Nodding to Turruo to make the calculations for the next jump he settles back in the chair and reroutes the Communications console through the chair's attached console, and continues sorting through the messages.

Further back in the ship, in engineering, Crewman Kydur Dulev and Petty Officer 2nd Class Aly Krailles are hunched over a console in main engineering, frustration etched over every feature as they try to figure out what isn't working.

“Are you sure that you calibrated that left sensor node the way I told you to?”

“Yes Petty Officer, I did it exactly like you showed me how to on the right one.”

“Why isn't this working then? All of our targeting simulations show us as being a little bit off in our aim.”

“I'm not sure ma'am, we're just realigning the targeting sensors that we use for the laser turrets right?”

“Yeah same ones we use for the... Oh Dammit, I'm so stupid!”

“What?”

“We're using our targeting sensors for the turrets, the missile launchers need to be connected to our primary sensors!”

“I'm not sure I understand ma'am...”

“We hooked up the missile launchers to the targeting system for the laser turrets, by doing this, we are giving the missile launchers sensor images from the side of the ship, we forgot to calibrate it specifically for a forward sensor view, which is where the launchers are, we need to make those adjustments and we should be able to eliminate that inaccuracy on the targeting simulations.”
“Oh, so we forgot to calibrate for the different location of the weapon being launched from the Onyx, so it was missing because the trajectory of the launch was wrong.”

“Correct Crewman, I think it will be easiest to just connect the launchers to the primary sensors instead of the targeting sensors for the guns, to much of a chance for mess up if we connect them to the same sensor input, if we set them up to the primary sensors there is no chance of accidentally crossing some wires somewhere.“

“Well what do we need to do first?”

“First off Crewman you are going to disconnect the launchers from the gunnery sensors, then we're going to get them connected to the primary sensors.”

Forward of Engineering there is a metallic clang as something hits the floor of the port laser turret, followed by a string of curses from the mouth of Crewman, and trainee gunner, Nabos Skyonel, “Sithspit, these things are heavy, you alright Kahicia?

“Yeah” Comes the response from Senior Crewman Kahicia Gekkuo, Nabos' trainer, “just scraped my knuckles on the way down, blast these things are annoying.”

“Why do we have to upgrade our HUDs anyway?”

“Not sure, something to do with the addition of the Missile Launchers or something, I wouldn't know, remember, we're just underlings, they don't tell us that sort of stuff.”

Silence falls as the two return to their work.

On the bridge Cevdis is once again looking out at hyperspace as they move along the last leg of their trip, shifting his gaze to Turruo he asks,

“Estimated time to Rheagent System Leth?”

“5 minutes Cev,” responds the Zabrak

“Very well,” activating the intra-ship comm system Cevdis hails the Senior Staff Room,

Slasher's face appears on the small screen on the console, “Yes Senior Crewman?”

“We will be arriving in the Rheagent system in approximately 5 minutes Captain.”

“Very well, stand down from Alert One, and have shift B return to watch.”

“Aye Captain,”

Cevdis switches over to the ship address system and relays the Captain's order before relinquishing the conn to Senior Chief Leekin who has returned to the Command Deck via the lift, turning to Chimo as he prepares to leave the Deck and head back to his quarters Cevdis switches back into their shared native tongue,
“[You want to grab some food once you get off watch?]”
“[Sounds good, see you in about an hour]”

OOC:

835 words, the Onyx has entered the Rheagent System

Still en route to the Rheagent system, the Dead Gun had been prepped for a hasty overhaul. Captain Khaar had now made his way to his private chambers, adhering to an earlier request by Naval Commander in Chief Ph'rranix “Stormz” Krazanr for a short meeting regarding the sitrep from the commanding officers of the fleet under his command. This was indeed a needed assembly; information had just been handed to Khaar not moments before about the situation of a convoy that was in route from Thyferra. This wasn't just some convoy, though; the cargo was in dire need. After arriving in his chambers, Jaden quickly activated the communication link and hologram display to join the congregation.

"[Hello, gentlemen. So nice of everryone to attend. We have a lot of business to attend to, and not much time to complete it in. With that said, let's get starrted. Line Captain Jaden, you werre telling me earrlierr that you had something share? Please explain.]"

"Recently brought to my attention, the convoy in route from Thyferra with the classified cargo has run into some trouble. Nearly at its destination, the convoy proceeded to drop out of hyperspace in the Epsilon system due to a major malfuction of the Pioneer's Inertial Damper. I'm not going to go into detail, but this particular transport is of the utmost importance." The captain seemed very hesitant to elaborate on many of the details; trust wasn't evident considering the recent events that had taken place. It had been known that a transmission with the Naval Commander in Chief was a secure one, but given the fact these people had already gotten so close to the illness-stricken ex-NCC made the man wonder whether or not he should communicate any information at all.

"With that, I have contacted the Daring. They are currently in the subsequent system and are on their way to assist the Pioneer with repairs. As concerned as I am with broadcasting this information, I will continue to update those who are on a need to know basis. Until then, keep your frequencies open at all times just in case."

Jaden paused for a moment, but before continuing he was interrupted by someone at the door to the chambers. He ignored it for a moment and continued.

"I have many things to attend to. God speed. Captain Khaar ending transmission."

The hologram image disseminated and the communication link cut out.

"You may enter," said Jaden, quite irritated.

The door hissed open to present Bridge Officer Phennir.

I should have expected something like this... He's going to have to learn some respect real quick or I'm going to have to show him the hard way.

Jaden glared at the young man, who seemed frozen by the very stare coming from his commanding officer.

"Speak already, I don't have time for games."

"Sir, we are arriving in the Rheagent System. Mangol is just now coming into view. Your orders?" said Casca, hesitantly.

"Contact Daishi station and make sure we are docked for an overhaul immediately. Also, make contact with the Cerulean in system and see to it that they are given permission to dock for maintenance and a refitting as well. Once we are docked, I will board the station to take care of a few things. Lt. Harriss will retain command and you are to follow his orders directly. Am I clear?"

"Acknowledged, sir," said the young man, snapping to attention with a salute before taking off for the bridge.

Better make contact with Zhar and make sure things are going smoothly. We can't afford to have something like this messed up.

Part I

Casca stared out of the viewport of his personal quarters for minutes that seemed like hours, the space station Cappadocious orbiting ominously like a floating crime scene above Abrae.  Casca shuttered at the thought of the ordeal; traitors, or moles rather, infiltrating his Navy, assassinating his hierarchy, and this diabolical agent lose aboard one of these ships.  There had to be three or more fleets orbiting Abrae at the moment, all swarming around the space station like bees around a busted hive.  The smooth surface of Tague loomed in the distance just behind the rocky grey moon that was Abrae, its various storms and swirls giving contrast to the darkness of space behind it.

Casca turned away from the viewport and looked at his new quarters; a smirk appeared on his face.  The trifling problems that he had with his job had all disappeared.  The trivial skirmishes he was used to took a back seat to a dire, all-important issue: finding those responsible for the assassination of multiple officers in the Vast Imperial Navy.  His unimportant stint as a pilot had ended, and he was now at the helm of one of the finest, albeit old, Victory class Imperial Star Destroyers Dead Gun.  He had a meaningful position, and a duty to fulfill, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  Casca straitened his bed and sat down at his datapad, connecting to the Imperial Communications Network.  His possessions in the hands of the Cappadocious security forces, and most likely never to be returned to him, Casca logged into the imperial store to order various amenities like boot polish, undergarments, a duffel bag, personal lockbox, and a T-6 heavy blaster pistol that closely resemble a blaster version of the E-11 rifle.

Firmly pressing the send button on his order, he entered in his new ship information so his order could be tagged onto the next supply shipment.  Knowing the ship would be working off of rations for a while due to the high alert status, Casca made a mental note to pick up some clothes from the ship’s reserve before turning in.  He waved his hand over the sensor pad adjacent his door.  The airlock door opened up as he exited his new personal quarters and closed behind him as he turned toward the ship’s bridge.  New faces, mostly human but some wookies and mon cal scattered about, all unfamiliar to Casca as he made his way to his new duty station.  Casca stood proud and erect as he waved his credential card in front of the bridge’s airlock. The airlock opened, and Casca entered like he had worked there for years.

Casca walked up to the Executive Officer in charge of the ship and stood at attention behind him as the unfamiliar officer gave out orders to the helmsmen.  A few seconds went by before the Commander turned toward Casca, who saluted, dropped the salute, and introduced himself, “Chief Petty Officer Phennir reporting for duty.”

“Mr. Phennir, this ship is on high alert; I’ve had a lot to deal with so you’ll have to excuse me if I haven’t read over your file yet.  Would you mind telling me what position you hold on this ship?” The Lt. Commander waved Casca at ease before standing cross-armed in front of him.  The Executive officer was taller than Casca, who only stood at about 5’9.5” tall, and seemed to tower over him as he spoke.  Casca looked up at the officer with a smirk.

“I am to assume the position of Bridge Officer, sir.” Casca, with his everpresent smirk of arrogance, stood at parade rest, his feet shoulder-width apart and hands cupped behind his back.  His aura of professionalism was only ever broken by his pride and his confident demeanor.

“I see.  Familiarize yourself with the bridge and report to Captain Khaar when he arrives.  He should be arriving shortly…and don’t leave the ship, we will be moving to another system shortly.” The officer turned away from him and looked over toward the ships second officer and whispered, “That guy gives me the creeps…”

Casca looked down at the helmsman and navigation crew, sitting just below the walkway at their stations.  Each and every crew member seemed competent enough, but he watched them work diligently, trying to pick out weaknesses in them that he could improve.  Casca was mumbling something along the lines of the crew being acceptable when another officer approached him from the rear.  Line Captain Jaden Khaar positioned himself directly in front of the Petty Officer, Casca looked the man directly in the eye and saluted, "Chief Petty Officer Casca Phennir, reporting for duty, sir!" The ship captain motioned him at ease.


"Chief Petty Officer? What position have you?" Captain Khaar asked, untrustingly.


"Bridge Officer, sir," Casca replied as he went to parade rest, "I assure you I am more than qualified to be standing at this post, sir.  Although I have never been awarded a bridge position in my military history, I am familiar with the ship’s systems and have excelled at the position of Wing Commander with the galactic Empire before the battle of Endor."

“I’m sure that will be detailed in your file, Mr. Phennir, and see how that presents itself.  Petty Officer, welcome aboard," the captain backpedaled to his post as he stared at Casca, "I do apologize for my informal approach; the situation at hand presents itself with the utmost scrutiny. I am only making the assurance that my staff is accounted for. The sight of a new face brings a surprise, as I wasn't informed of your arrival beforehand."

“Affirmative on that one sir, your surprise to meeting me is as much a surprise as to my being here.  You see, I was only just informed of my new position myself, sir. Returning from a long leave of absence, I only just arrived on the Cappadocious a few hours ago, and I was expecting to be reinstated into Phoenix Squadron.  Yet, here I stand as an inexperienced, however capable, officer aboard the flagship of a fleet that stands divided, sir.”


"That it does. But we will not accept defeat, and these foes will have their day of judgment. As you were, there is much to tend to,” Captain Khaar said as he turned to his Executive officer, “Lt. Commander Harriss, lay in course for Mangol in the Rheagent System.  She needs some minor overhauling before we set out for the Bannith system.  Also, send out a request to all craft in Task Force Resh as to a SITREP.  I will be contacting each captain individually for an assessment as to our next coordinated move, but I need to know where they stand ASAP."


The tall officer turned from the Second officer toward the Captain and spoke, "Acknowledged sir, setting course for Mangol."

OOC:

1142 words