[Another fallen angels runon built on our semilegitimate standing. Be careful in tampering with it, for powerful are we with the force, I'm talking about some real deep space gangsta ****... wait, I'm ranting again.] Aniston didn't like the director's office. It wasn't that it was too big, actually it was. It was irresponsibly huge. Terms like cavernous or gargantuan were also adequately descriptive. It was ominous too. Wierd mystical symbology decorated the floor and ceeling of the place. The lighting was kept low, but the symbols still stood out, almost as if they glowed with their own inner light. At the far end stood a desk. A large oak affair with a black marble top streaked with white and gold. Behind that desk sat the director, who motioned for Aniston to approach. Aniston had heard all the rumors surrounding Director Geist that the techs had been spreading. Some said that he was a force user that dabbled in the Dark side. Others said that he was a full fledged dark jedi. All anyone really knew was that he was an ex-army officer, and he had the Baron Administrator's ear. The stories that came out of the army about an undisciplined, jovial old veteran who always had a laugh, prank, and stiff drink for everyone didn't seem to fit the man in the business suit behind the desk. As Aniston approached the desk he was suddenly aware of the low sound of slow, almost mournful, chanted music, like some kind of magical incantation that would transform him into a mythic beast. For a moment he hesitated. When the Director frowned at his reluctance, he quickly resumed his pace, deciding that the music couldn't be any worse than facing the Director's wrath. When he reached the desk he straightened up and delivered a proper imperial salute. "Chief Engineer Aniston reporting as ordered, Director." The director of special projects for the Vast Empire Engineering Corps waited for a moment, then waved one hand almost inperceptibly. The music ceased. He then turned to study Aniston intently, almost as though he was gazing into his soul. "Report on the progress of the Nergal project," he said finally. Aniston was caught by surprise by the Director's words and stuttered briefly as he began to speak. "We... That is the hull is aproximately seventy percent completed. We have halted work for now because we cannot continue until we have ship systems to install." As he finished his statement he suddenly had a horrible feeling that what he had just said might have been taken as a criticism. The director had declared that he would handle acquiring subsystems for the Nergal himself. "Are you suggesting I am not doing my job?" the Director asked with a sort of cold calm. The kind of tone an executioner uses when he asks a prisoner his last request. "No sir, I wouldn't ever suggest that!" Aniston said quickly. "Even if I wasn't?" the director asked. "I... I don't understand..." Aniston said suddenly confused. "Your engineers are to be commended for their work on the Nergal. You are aproximately two weeks ahead of schedule. It is regretful that my own efforts have not met with similar success." There was a hint of a smile on the Director's face as he said this. "Nevertheless, I have been making some progress, and you will recieve your first sources for parts shortly. You are dismissed." Aniston was surprised, having just a moment before been expecting to be skinned alive. "Ye-yes sir. Thank you sir!" He turned and left the office as quickly as he could without LOOKING like he was fleeing his commander. Once Aniston left, Geist switched the music back on, changing the track to an old eastern Coruscant song he had grown up with. The far more... upbeat?... song contrasted sharply with the dark, ominous feel of this enormous room, but Geist had found long ago an enjoyment for music no matter where he was. He always maintained that background music helped him concentrate. Aniston would have to learn to stand up to him. It was only after he had proven his ability to spit in the eye of all of his worst nightmares that he would be trully valuable to Geist and the Fallen Angels. For now, on the other hand, Aniston had proven himself to be a talented engineer and leader of men. The chief designer on the Nergal project had done a fantastic job of turning Geist's vague idea into a reality. Geist made a note to have a case of correllian whiskey delivered to Aniston's work crews at Phobos Station. They had certainly earned it. Geist on the other hand still had his own job to do. Contacts in the outer rim had given him a lead on three mothballed dreadnaught cruisers hidden in a forgotten storage yard orbiting a similarly forgotten world. If he could get his hands on these ships, they would be perfect for project Nergal. Daishi had at first balked at the idea of constructing a warship out of salvaged parts, saying that the ship could have all kinds of problems with faulty or incompatible equipment. On the other hand such components would reduce the cost of producing a new warship dramatically if they could be made to work. Project Nergal was ultimately more than just the construction of a warship, it was a proof of concept. With everything planned for inclusion into the modified carrack cruiser hull, the Nergal could prove to be the first of a new breed of warship to take the war to the Republic. Of course on the other hand the whole thing could prove to be a collossal failure. In either case, Geist's imediate concern was aquiring three old dreadnaughts so that his engineers could take them apart. For the time being he couldn't call on the VE navy to do the job. Project Nergal was one of those things that special projects was working on that even the higher ups in the VE proper weren't aware of. Geist didn't expect that the VE high command would take the idea of the VEEC building its own warships very well. So they would have to depend on their own assets. They certainly did have enough to do the job. Six brand new assault gunboats and a carrack cruiser had been delivered to Geist's command recently. That would be enough to cover a siezure of the dreadnaughts should anything bad turn up. Geist got up from his desk and went looking for pilots.
 
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Jociam Geist, Director, Special Projects
"Comrades, consider me a bad comunist." -Arkady Renko "Polar Star"
"I'm afraid, I thought you would like to be afraid with me." -Arkady Renko "Gorky Park"