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Gurlanin
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RE: VEN: Heart of the Second

October 21, 2013 6:28:59 PM

“Gur?”

Grent was in the middle of packing up what little belongings he had with him, when Joamer’s voice emerged from behind him. They had just received orders from Naval High Command that Blade Wing were transferring over to the new flagship of the second fleet, the Paragon. As such, all the pilots were now clearing out their lockers and bunks. Tracyn, Grent’s pet Strill, was watching the proceedings in earnest as Grent turned around, being careful not to bump his head on the low ceiling above his bunk. Being a Flight Leader had earned him his own space, but it still didn’t provide much more room than the shared pilot’s bunks. Even though he was now SXO, granting him access to a slightly bigger cabin again, he hadn’t had time to move his stuff over yet. The ship transfer, then, had come just in time: an hour or so later, and Grent would have been forced to repack.

“What is it, boss?” enquired Grent.
“We’ve got a meeting up in the skipper’s office in fifteen minutes,” replied Joamer.
“A meeting? Why do they want to see us?” said Grent, putting down the clothes there were in his hands, and straightening up.
“Well, they more want to see you, but my presence is needed too.”
“I’m not in trouble for anything, am I?”
“Put your dress uniform on. That’s all I’m going to say.” With that, Joamer left Gur standing, with a questioning look upon his face, as the curtain that divided Gur’s cabin from the rest of the ship was drawn.
Grent looked at Tracyn, who returned the look. Both Mandalorian and animal were thinking the same thing: fierfek.
---------------------------------

OOC:: Captain’s Office, ISD II “Adjudicator”.

Grent paced nervously outside the door to the office. The Rear-Admiral’s yeoman was sitting behind his desk, tapping away at his computer console. The Mandalorian had rushed around his room, sewing on his new Chief Petty Officer rank insignia and Squadron Executive Officer lapel badge onto his dress uniform, as well as adding medals that had been waiting to be sewn on before Strill had been suddenly called into action. It had only taken a few minutes, but it was a few minutes less that Grent had to press his uniform. He always took pride in his uniform: his creases were always sharp, his shoes were always shiny, and his brass was always gleaming. With five minutes to spare, Grent arrived at the office, having elected to leave Tracyn behind, much to the strill’s disapproval. Whatever this meeting was about, Grent couldn’t let anything out of the ordinary distract him or his superiors.

“They’re ready for you, Chief,” came the voice of the yeoman, seemingly drifting in from far away. It only barely registered.
“Hmm? Oh right, thank you,” replied Grent as he made to open the door.

Inside the office, Grent snapped to attention, holding his Petty Officer cap under his arm. In front of him were three people: Joamer, Rear-Admiral Trykon, and Commander Zail.

“Chief Petty Officer Grent Notimo, reporting as ordered, sir!” barked Grent.
The Rear-Admiral acknowledged the pilot, “At ease, Chief,” he said, and waited for Grent to relax a bit, and place his hands behind his back before continuing, “Congratulations on your work at Absit, Chief. I am sorry to hear about former Leading Crewman Tiberius Dekam, but I was pleased with the way you dealt with the incident.”
“Thank you, sir.” Grent knew that now wasn’t the right time to bring up the fact that the Corellian had slipped through the net for security risks. He still blamed himself for not knowing.
“Have you met Commander Zail?” asked Trykon.
“Only briefly, sir, during the … er … VENI exercise,” replied Grent.
“Good. That leaves out the need for introductions. Commander?”
“Sir,” said Zail, stepping forwards, “As you know, Strill, along with the rest of Blade Wing, is being transferred to my ship. We are taking the opportunity to shuffle things around a bit.”
Oh Manda, thought Grent, I’m being transferred to somewhere else.
“We have discussed things with your Commanding Officer here,” continued Zail, indicating Joamer, “And it has been decided that you are to take the role of Squadron Commanding Officer.”
Grent was visibly shocked. He was not expecting that, “S.. sir?”
“Effective immediately. Congratulations, Chief,” said a beaming Zail.
Joamer clapped Grent on the back, before unpinning the SXO lapel badge from the Mandalorian’s chest and replacing it with the SCO one, “Guess I’m going to be calling you ‘Boss’ now.”
“What?” asked Grent, “Aren’t you moving on to bigger and better things?”
Joamer shook his head, “No, I’m …” He glanced at Zail and Trykon before continuing, “I’m staying as your SXO.”
“Oh … well, thank you, sirs. This is … unexpected,” stammered Grent.
“Understood, Chief. Don’t look so worried: you’ll do admirably,” said Trykon, reassuringly.
“Coming from an Admiral, that certainly in high praise,” said Grent jokingly, slowly regaining his composure.
The Rear-Admiral chuckled, “Dismissed, Chief.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Grent, snapping to attention once more. He swivelled on the balls of his feet, and left the room. As he stepped into the corridor, he glanced down at his new lapel badge, which shone back up at him.
---------------------------------

OOC:: Strill pilot barracks, ISD II “Adjudicator”.

Gur had spent the entire walk back to the barracks with his mind racing over his new position. He had new responsibilities, but also new power. He was in charge of the squadron now. Strill was his to mould as he saw fit, within reason. He thought about the men and women under his command, now, as he re-entered his room. No longer was is just Edge, Lady and … Tinker … Grent thought about the time he had spent with the man before that fateful mission, and suddenly remembered the project the two of them had been working on.

He rushed through the corridors, making his way to engineering. His old friend, Wise, greeted him.
“I was wondering when you were going to turn up, G,” said the other man.
“I’m here about the you-know-what.”
“I thought you might. Weren’t going to leave it behind, were ya? Don’t fret: it’s right where you left it last.”
“Cheers, Wise. I owe you one.”
“More than one!” called Wise after the newly appointed Squadron CO.

Grent reached the workbench covered by a cloth, and surrounded by tools. Everything was exactly where he and Tinker had left it. The man pulled back the cloth, revealing the project, finally completed. Tinker and he had never managed to activate it before they went on their mission. This was the moment of truth. Grent flipped the switch.

“Running diagnostics. Completed. Starting initialisation.”

1#: I’m so excited!
2#: Careful. Tinker might have sabotaged it.
1#: As if! This thing is …
The voice was interrupted as the project awoke, and tilted its head to look at Grent.

“Statement: Hello, Master. Where are the meatbags you want dead?”
1#: Ooooh, I’m in love!

OOC:: WC: 1171

AAR: Grent gets made SCO of Strill, and then activates the project that Tinker and he had been working on before Absit.

Oh, and the voices make their comeback appearance.

(=^TG^=)
{GrAt}{AFM}{Infl}{SFT}{Gunn}{Shut}{Slice}{0Gee}{XenMA}

Romanflame
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RE: VEN: Heart of the Second

October 23, 2013 12:13:22 AM

Adjudicator Med-Bay.
Characters present: Arthur Dragon, Medical supervisor
Time: Six hours after the conclusion of the Battle of Absit.

Arthur was floating in a kolto-tank after the battle from injury’s he received when the shields gave out. The tank started to empty and Arthur slowly regained consciousness. The doctor had him slowly get up to his feet, and started the routine checklist, which at this point Arthur could almost recite word for word with how many times he been in this situation. Arthur started to wonder how many more times he will find himself waking up inside a bata tank this year.

“Was anyone else hurt when the shields dropped?” Arthur asked.

“There were a few but they had only minor injuries as they were sitting while it happened, you on the other hand took it the hardest because you were standing.” The medical supervisor responded.

“What about my team aboard the Interceptor did everyone make it off alive?”

“There were a few deaths from your crew over there. The fighting was a little tougher than they were expecting, but the marines you sent were able to keep the losses down to three. Their names and ranks are Senior Crewman Cali Plix, Crewman Loth Hather, and Crewman Soother Thwerr.” The doc told him.

“Thanks, am I free to go I have to send a message to their families.”

“I just have one final test then you are free.”

Adjudicator Arthurs Office.
Characters present: Arthur Dragon, and T3-M99 (Arthurs Astromech)
Time: Eight hours after the conclusion of the Battle of Absit.

Arthur was glad to finally be out of the medical bay of the ship. They seem to be keeping him there longer the more he finds himself there. Arthur sat in his chair and started to figure out how to word the death notification to his crew member’s families. He started to record the messages with the help of T3-M99.

OOC:: 279 words
Just a little post to get something up.

SCAP/LTJG Arthur 'Romanflame' Dragon/CR-90 Hammer/TF:Besh/2nd FLT/VEN/VE
[MC2][MC:1][CBV][SoL][CO][IG](CAR)(NAR)[CCD][CNQST][VM0][LoM]

Hades
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RE: VEN: Heart of the Second

October 26, 2013 2:05:05 PM

OOC:: Places: Paragon main hangar, crew quarters.
People: Hades, Tamran, Avalar

I'm sorry. It was a voice with which he was strangely familiar, a voice that had invaded his dreams ever since he got back. The Zeltron, Zella, was the owner of that voice - Hades had no idea where she was now, all he knew was that she was a long long way from himself. He had spent any time he could thinking on where she had gone, why she might have left. He forced himself to turn his thoughts away, though; the officer had more important things to think of now. Fortunately for the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander, the CR-90 Sharp had showers and spare uniforms - he took one of both, arriving amongst the second fleet not too long after they'd left the unidentified system that seemed so far from any form of civilisation. Hades made sure to turn his mind from the past, focusing instead on the future. As he exited the shuttle, however, he may as well have been all the Corellian hells on legs. While he was only a Lieutenant Commander, few actually outranked him on the ship - surprisingly, his SCO and SXO were not among those few.

The bars of his rank sat proudly upon his immaculate black uniform, code cylinders befitting his status next to it. They were only coded as high as a lieutenant, though, so Hades would have to requisition new ones soon. Even so, a Lieutenant aboard the Paragon wasn't kept from many places, not the places Hades needed to go anyway. The gleaming floors of the ship only reminded him of who was in charge - like the two previous Chiefs of Naval Warfare, Hades knew Serpent to be a supremely efficient man. He wouldn't expect anything less than a perfectly drilled crew and ship from the man. The hangar doors opened for him as he exited the main hangar, leaving the small shuttle behind him to do whatever it needed to. Hades knew he'd have to face a debriefing sooner or later, but Commander Zail had stipulated his necessity in Jexxel after a further discussion. He had reassured hades that it wasn't a punishment but rather because he was needed there... He still wasn't entirely satisfied but at heart, Hades was a loyal man. Serpent was the personification, in a sense, of what Hades served. Not so much because of who he was but rather because of where he now sat on Naval High Command. He was the highest authority Hades would have to report to in the near future, and as such Hades found him as a focal point - the fact that he was a friend made it much easier to follow orders, as unprofessional as that may have been. That was how it was in any case; Hades' somewhat interesting perception of the status quo.

As his boots clicked repeatedly against the unblemished deck, his eyes scanned forward. The Paragon differed little from the Adjudicator, Hades' former posting - after all, they were both of the same class and probably built at the same place. That meant that it had the same layout and the same specifications; while admittedly some ship captains took liberties with their craft and customised, or indeed were assigned modified ships, Hades doubted the Paragon had been changed in many ways other than its complement - the crew. The only trouble, then, was not finding the crew quarters - no, he knew that - but rather finding where in the crew quarters Jexxel had been assigned. He had survived captivity numerous times and come out free against all odds, he'd survived as a self-made orphan on Nar Shaddaa; surely finding a barracks wouldn't be hard? It was often the little things that brought people the most joy - and frustration. Already in a poor mood, Hades eyed the deck that housed the Starfighter Corps with an expression of icy distaste. A few pilots milling about saluted, in return getting little more than a nod. Catching a flash of a Chief Petty Officer's insignia, the Lieutenant Commander singled out the NCO. "Chief Petty Officer!" He called in his best officer voice. The Duros turned, regarding Hades. "Jexxel barracks, which way?"

"Down the end on the left, sir." The Duros replied with a smart salute. Hades nodded.

"Dismissed," he added icily before brushing past any remaining pilots in his way. He now knew where his quarters were.. The few individuals that were moving the opposite direction down the corridor made way for the former Chief of Naval Training and current Lieutenant Commander; nobody wanted to get on the bad side of an officer they didn't know, so most people were easily brushed aside. As he found the Jexxel barracks, Hades paused and took a deep breath to try and soothe his poor mood. It did no good and he entered anyway, though immediately found he did not like what he saw. Baggage all over the place, gear still being stowed. While he understood the difficulty of transitioning a whole wing between ships, there did happen to be a more orderly way of doing things. He gritted his teeth - mostly abandoned, the Jexxel barracks was silent aside from the occasional murmur. When he was spotted, several people stood and saluted but Hades, seeing that who he sought was not among them, gave no response. He stalked inward, gazing upon each bunk with an icy distaste - the same icy distaste from when he'd first arrived on deck. "At ease," he finally called to those still saluting, beelining his way for the SCO's office now. It was marked obviously in precise Aurebesh letters, reading the abbreviation of SCO. A quirked brow indicated that that too had been added to the list of things he quietly disapproved of - it was a long list, not necessarily a reasonable one either. Hades could be very whimsical at times, surprisingly.

Two sharp knocks at the door indicated his arrival before he keyed the entry control. It was unlocked and the door slid open, revealing to him Makenna and another man he didn't recognise - though admittedly, his features were vaguely familiar. Seeing that neither one bore an officer's rank, Hades stepped inside without saluting. The man jumped to his feet and saluted, while Makenna wasn't so fast or sharp. Her salute was a little sluggish, Hades thought, though now he did return it. He noted she had been promoted, "Commander," he intoned.

"Sir," Makenna replied stiffly. Protocol was slightly confusing now - he was her superior in rank, but she was his in position. Meaning she had to call him sir, but he had to follow her orders. It presented something of a comical interaction, then, whenever either of them greeted the other. Without further ado, Hades stepped up alongside the other man who seemed a little uncomfortable with not being addressed.

"Commander Zail has reactivated me as Cresh Flight Lead in Jexxel," he said simply, lowering his chin slightly and glancing over his shoulder, "though I wouldn't like to be the one to establish exactly which flight is which, out there."

"With all due respect, sir, we've only just transf-" The other man spoke out, though Makenna gave him a look that said he shouldn't have.

"-And I've only just returned to active duty after being held as a prisoner of war, do you see my baggage spread all over the floor?"

"Hades..." Makenna warned in a quiet tone. "We've had a lot on our plates. Organising our bunks isn't exactly high on our list of priorities."

"If we look like whipped dogs, we'll fight like whipped dogs," Hades answered simply, though fell silent after a glare was shot his way from Makenna, "very well, Senior Chief Petty Officer."

"She's your squadron-"

"Tamran, enough." Makenna interrupted as the man made to stand up for her, "leave us."

Offering Hades a final glare, Tamran nodded and left. "Friend of yours?" The officer quizzed incisively.

"he's in our damn squadron, Hades. Learn who you're working with" Makenna retorted, "what do you want, Commander?"

"With all due respect, Squadron Commander," Hades began, "I want to serve in a squadron that has better odds of surviving than a three year old jawa up against a pack of Gamorrean women."

Aleshire gave him a wary, slightly confused look. "Where does that even come from?" She asked, obviously talking about the phrase. Before he could answer though, she raised a hand, "Never mind, I'd rather not know. You might have phrases and sayings a plenty in your mind, sir, but I have one for you: change starts with yourself."

"It's a well known saying," he replied almost inaudibly, "I recognise that, Ms. Aleshire, and I'll be doing my best to whip Cresh into shape. I'd rather not have on my record that we were the only flight to survive, though."

"Are you sure?" She prompted suddenly.

"Sure of what?"

"I'm not quite sure your apathy is your real reasoning."

"I'm quite sure my apathy is my reasoning, Commander, due in part to the fact I just reasoned with it." He replied smoothly, though his eyebrow twitched.

"If you say so. One day you'll realise it's not all about stone cold efficiency, but teamwork."

"Stone cold efficient teamwork," he replied calmly. Makenna eyed him with growing frustration.

"Go and see to your flight, Commander," she responded with barely controlled annoyance. A small smile appeared on Hades' features.

"With pleasure, Chief."

"Good to have you back," she muttered sarcastically as he turned.

"I'm glad you think so," he answered to no-one in particular as he stalked out of her office. He could see the one she called both Thatcher and Tamran down the opposite end of their barracks to Cresh's designated section. Aside from a cold stare, Hades gave the man nothing. Instead, he made his way down to his end of the barracks where he found more stuff strewn around. He paused, running his tongue over the back of his gritted teeth - fortunately for Cresh, all of them were absent from their bunks for now. When they returned, however... there would probably be some chewing out to be done. "Through weakness, we are strong," he murmured darkly to himself.

OOC:: Wordcount: 1,714

AAR: Hades is back, and in a worse mood than ever. After arriving from the Sharp, Hades heads to the barracks to reunite with his Squadron - Makenna's Squadron - and finds things to be in less than ideal shape. He is borderline insubordinate to Makenna, trading a few choice remarks with her.

Lieutenant Commander Demetrius 'Hades' Aita

FL | LCDR Hades | Silver 9 | S:46 "Jexxel" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Paragon | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

[BWC][MC1][CBV][CAR][HNS][SWC][NSR][LoM][DSM][CC:P][CC:F][CC:W][CC;D][MiD][VC:B][GWC][1NS][BRC][IG][VS:S][MC:2][CNQST]
[*SWC*] [*FOCE*] [TG]
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited October 26, 2013 2:06:10 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Hades (edited October 26, 2013 4:06:49 PM)]

Hades
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RE: VEN: Heart of the Second

November 1, 2013 7:49:34 PM

OOC:: Double post after six days or so

Hades wasn't usually a sociable person, though he did find the occasional reason to indulge in a drink. Other than the rare night of going to the bar to have a drink, Hades rarely deviated from his healthy lifestyle. He was up early, he exercised, read, most days visited the simulator... He was quite the model of personal fitness. A lot of days he showed up the ship's security in hand-to-hand combat, an area of expertise Hades had always loved and endorsed religiously. He didn't have a set 'style' - rather, he took from several examples of different styles that he had been exposed to over the years and combined it into one deadly form of street fighting, aimed not at showboating or simply 'taking down' your opponent, but ending the fight as quickly and as effortlessly as possible, whether by death, injury, or threat - it didn't matter, ending the fight was paramount. As such, he wasn't popular with those who wanted a show, but all those who got into the ring with him held a very high respect for the young Commander. He considered himself a predator, a good one at that. VENI had helped to hone that predatory instinct, though in some ways it had made the man more arrogant, colder, less empathetic - had Jarv seen him now, he might have berated the young man for losing sight of exactly what it was he had meant to accomplish in joining the Empire. The interesting thing was that Hades hadn't actually lost sight of it or even deviated from the pursuit of it, he'd simply changed tactics in the belief that the means did, without fail, justify the end. It was a weakness he couldn't see - well, he could see it, but he didn't believe it to be weakness. His emotional detachment was something of a strength, to him...

Maybe emotional detachment wasn't the right word; the pilot cared deeply for what he did and what he fought for, even for his squadron, he just professed not to so that people wouldn't get close to him. VENI had helped him in that way, helped him develop that cold, sharp edge of almost psychopathic lack of emotion. It was hard for many to believe that Hades could be scholarly and indeed, did like to read. That included many of his squadron mates, as Hades realised one day when he was reading his datapad in the officer's mess. "Sir?" the voice broke through his otherwise uninterrupted reading of a well-written assessment of the Imperial Immobilizer-418 Cruiser... He glanced up, seeing Mundi there.

"Mundi," he answered calmly, reminding himself not to be rude, "something you need?"

"Were you reading, sir?"

"I was, what of it?" As Mundi began to answer that, he waved off the answer, "again, what do you need?"

"Well sir, Vangelos, Graff and I were about to head down to the bar for a drink. We were wondering if you'd join us." This was the second time Mundi had asked him. Hades had always believed that officers and enlisted always stayed separated, that the only time they got together was on the battlefield or otherwise during some sort of training drills. He wasn't their friend, as simple as that... He had to make sure he kept that barrier up, else-wise they might lose the sense of authority they saw in him.

"Listen, Mundi," he began the spoken form of his disinclination to join them, but cut himself off as he watched his subordinate. He chewed on his lip idly, pondering with a glance down to his datapad, what the frak, why not. He looked back up - reading could wait, "why not?"

Mundi was visibly pleased, a small smile teasing the edge of his lips as Hades offered one in return. A friendly smile, or at least the best he could manage. It probably came across as patronising, but Hades didn't care - he'd gotten a smile, that was more than most got. Standing up, the Commander was given another salute, responding with his own, "lead the way." Mundi did so eagerly, taking Hades on a journey out of the officer's mess and toward the turbolift. Mundi hadn't said anything so far, pleased into silence in a sense. Hades eyed his back as they entered the turbolift. When the doors hissed shut and left them alone, Hades spoke again, "what do you make of Graff?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Well sir, he's an efficient flight member. Seems to be dangerous too," At this, the Commander quirked a brow - a man who was supposedly reasoned and logical didn't strike him as the typical 'dangerous' man he'd encounter, "not crazy dangerous, more like he has cards up his sleeve. He's in good shape and isn't exactly forthcoming about his past."

"Dangerous? What makes you say that?" He quizzed.

"Just the impression I get, sir. Foreboding. Something seems wrong," Mundi frowned, "sorry sir, I talk too much."

"No," he murmured, "no, don't worry about it. I asked."

"Yes sir," the doors slid open and they began to walk toward the bar down the corridor.

"Don't mention this to Graff, alright?" Hades shot Mundi a sidelong glance, an expectant one.

"Of course not sir," Mundi replied. The duo settled into a silence for the remainder of the short journey as the VENI agent mulled over what Mundi had said, dangerous, he mused inwardly. They arrived at the entrance of the bar now and Vangelos could be seen sitting alongside Graff, quietly discussing something. He watched Graff for a good few moments, I'm watching you, he thought at the man. As if he heard the thought, Graff looked up, uttering a word to Vangelos who did the same. They both smiled and gestured the newly arrived duo closer. Mundi led the way, apparently forgetting he was accompanying his superior, though Hades didn't mind overmuch as he followed, weaving his way through tables to stand next to the one his flight now inhabited. Both Graff and Mundi made to stand up and salute, but Hades waved them off.

"You're off duty, sit down," he instructed, glancing to the bar, then to the men's almost empty drinks, "what're you drinking?"

"Sir, I-"

"Relax, Vangelos. This round's on me," he nodded at both men, then at Mundi. "So what's your poison?"

"Correllian Whiskey, Commander!" Graff said cheerfully. Hades nodded, filtering the choice of drink away for later.

"Surprise me," came the answer of Vangelos, who had a cheeky smirk on his face. Hades rose an eyebrow, but nodded, then looked to Mundi expectantly.

"Naboo fruit wine, sir," Mundi said without laughing. Hades had to bite back giggles, but managed to keep his amusement from manifesting itself in anything more than his sparkling green eyes.

"Very well," he answered with a calm he did not feel, "take a seat. I'll be right back." Hades winked in a friendly manner, though it probably came across as psychopathic coming from him as he turned and made his way to the bar. The automated bartender queried what he'd be having and he recanted the order, adding in a glass of the green stuff, though again stifled a laugh as he said 'Naboo fruit wine'. The droid assured him that it would bring out the drinks, at which point Hades told it to put the round of drinks on his rarely used tab. He returned to the table and took a seat, smiling still as he thought of Mundi's drink order.

"Something amuse you, Commander?" Graff and Vangelos seemed to have picked up on it too, both watching him expectantly.

"No, Mundi. Not at all," He answered, deadpan, "you should have told me this was a romantic occasion, though." Both Graff and Vangelos started laughing, and Mundi looked embarrassed, "here's a tip, Mundi: when you're going for a drink with your male comrades... don't order 'fruit wine'." He jerked his head in the directino of Graff and Vangelos, who were both in fits now, "you'll never hear the end of it, though admittedly it would have been more amusing had you ordered some cheese on the side."

"Cheese, sir?" Mundi asked, thoroughly confused. Hades shook his head and sighed good-humoredly.

"Don't worry about it. Just don't order fruit wine on a guy's night," he said with a knowing wink and smile, almost paternal in nature. He leant back in his seat at that point, gazing around the three gathered. As the drinks were set down before him, Hades thanked the droid server out of instinct before taking a sip of his drink - served neat.

"Sir," Vangelos began, taking a sip from his own drink - he hadn't been much surprised with some blue stuff - and gazing into the bottom of his glass like it held some secrets or other, "when do you think we'll next be deployed?"

"We're still deployed, Dante," he answered, "technically, anyway."

"You know what I mean, sir," Vangelos said in good humor. Hades exhaled softly and placed his glass down.

"Soon. Earliest is next week, I think, at the latest three weeks from now. We're at war, remember that." They all fell silent at that quiet revelation, though they all had known it beforehand, "and the war won't end until we fail or they do."

"Not even in a peace treaty?" Mundi spoke up.

"Between the Correllians and the New Republic, there will always be at least one foe, Mundi. If either makes peace with us, we'll still be at war with the other, and neither of them trust each other enough to make a conjoined treaty signed by all three parties." He shrugged slowly, "so no, not even in a form of armistice."

Again, silence descended upon the group. It was Graff who spoke up this time, "Commander's right. We've got to be prepared for all out war. It won't be easy, or quick, or clean. It won't be fun for the most part, but it'll happen nonetheless."

"Spoken like a veteran, Graff." Hades answered guardedly, watching Graff - Crim avoided his gaze, though, and he soon turned his attention away. "That's why we need to get all the hours in the simulators - or even on patrol - that we can. Nothing I say or do can prepare you for what's coming, even though some of you have experienced it before. We can certainly be at the peak of our abilities when it does come, though. Am I right?"

"Sir, yes sir," his three flight members answered him eagerly. Hades nodded, downing the last of his green stuff before getting to his feet. Instinctively, the other off-duty pilots stood. Hades shook his head in mock frustration.

"I'm going back to barracks. I expect you all to be up and ready for P.T. in the morning, aye?" the trio groaned as one and Hades grinned, "I've got to take pleasure in something, Jexxel, why not let it be your pain? 0900 hours if you please. A minute late and we'll start at 0800 the day after, 0700 the day after that if it happens again. You get the picture, I expect."

They all muttered their acknowledgements and stared dejectedly into their drinks. "Don't look so glum, P.T. is fun!" It was for him, anyway. "0900. Goodnight, Cresh."

"0900 Commander, aye sir." Various takes on that came back from the pilots and Hades nodded, letting them settle back down as he took his leave. Correllian Whiskey, he mused inwardly.

OOC:: Wordcount: 1,925

AAR: Mostly CD; Hades gets just that bit closer to his flight members, both through observation and dialogue.

Tzism
ComNet Novice

[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman

Post Number: 28
Total Posts: 52
Joined: Aug 2013
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Heart of the Second

November 2, 2013 2:14:20 AM

The mission had finished. The Vast Empires Navy was through with there assignment at the time, and were coordinating on another offensive, but needed time to collect intelligence and collaborate before making a definite decision. New orders had been given to Tzism, he had noticed while in his quarters aboard the Adjudicator. Command had decided to allocate forces, another destroyer, but this time it was known as the Paragon. Feeling inspired by the decision, Tzism gathered his belongings, cleaned up around his quarters, and grabbed his duffel bag ready to leave. As he left the quarters, he could spot several officers, and crewman discussing things, overall they were going about there business as usual. Tzism was inclined to speak to one of them but decided to keep to himself making sure to salute any officer along the way, and to mind his business. Along the hallway he passed through he noticed some of the mechanical and medical droid doing there work, as well as cleaning along the way. Some made there “beeps” and “boops” sounds, which Tzism found hilarious, all the while keeping his stride and proceeding toward the hangar bay.

There was one thing he did notice peculiar, after arriving at the hangar bay his training vessel from the academy had arrived this time it was for a different reason. Walking up to the flight officer, Tzism spoke to him “Good to see you again, this time I notice your not dropping off cadets, so whats the order for this time?” the flight officer grinned a little then spoke “Yep it is for a different reason, we are taking new personnel to the Paragon including yourself, being that your on our flight manifest. I would grab a seat before there all filled. Were prepping to leave in the next hour.” Tzism nodded, then walked on board the ramp that shot down from the shuttle. On board he looked for the nearest seat, laid his bag down on the floor, and closed his eyes. The hour had passed and then there would be a speech on intercom. “This is the flight officer speaking, make sure you are seated and belongings as well as orders are attached, we a preparing for departure, we will be proceeding to the target destination. Thank you, that is all” The flight officer shut the communication off, then started the shuttle for travel. The shuttle began to hover, with the landing gear entering back inside there areas. The shuttle hand now proceeded to flight path, with the wings in the down position. Tzism could feel the jostling of the shuttle before seeing it propel outside the destroyer and they could now see open space from the view port sides.

Sleeping for the most part was on his mind, Tzism thought as well as concentrating his energy toward his new assignment on the Paragon, it was new to him, but not new in being another destroyer. Command would still be the same, might be a refit or new designation for the destroyer, which made it new, but overall it was something to be proud of being a transfer. The flight for the most part did not prove to be a problem at all, was relaxing and allowed Tzism to dream about his future as well as bring up his past some, before waking up he had been in slumber for several hours, some of the crew aboard the shuttle were doing the same. Then there was some looking over there orders and making notes. Tzism didn’t want to bother with that until he got with command and to his quarters on board the Paragon. After waking up from the sleep he undertook, Tzism looked around to find the shuttle finish its travel planned destination before arriving at the Paragon, as it made its way through the hangar bay, the shuttle jostled around for a little before lowering its landing gear and lowering the walk ramp from underneath the shuttle, it was now safe to walk aboard the destroyer. Grabbing his gear, and the orders he had obtained, Tzism nodded to the flight officer one more time before heading down the walk ramp and onto the hangar deck of the Paragon.

Breathing once again, he saluted to the deck officer, and showed him his orders. The officer saluted Tzism, and replied “Verification of orders is complete, you are hereby assigned to the Paragon, your quarters are on this manifest, as well as your squadron meeting area, as well here are training simulator areas, and a gym for some post mission work. Good luck crewman.” The officer returned the salute and passed the information back to Tzism. Walking passed the officer, Tzism made his way through the hangar bay and toward his quarters. It took a while before going through many decks and seeing the personnel that were assigned here. Many new people but some of the same as well. Tzism concentrating on the time to relax walked up to his quarters, took out a data key and opened the door. His room was clean as well all the amenities that any crewman were required to have. Dropping his duffel bag, he jumped on his bed, turned around a bit before resting his body. There were things to complete first thing first was to clean himself up, organize his closet area with uniforms and clothing attire and finally to study the ship manifest of the paragon. This would take a while, Tzism was fascinated by the size of the destroyer but some of its areas were also the same as was on board the Adjudicator. After reading the manifest some, he went into the bathroom to clean himself off for a bit and to put on some fresh uniform, making sure to take his old clothing and get that cleaned out for future usage. Tzism took a moment to acknowledge the information he saw on the manifest and studied some information from his previous mission, as well as gathering information in his manifest to understand future missions.

OOC:: Word Count: 1014

AAR: Character Development, as well as his assignment aboard the Paragon, getting his footing, and studying his surroundings

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