The display in front of Lt. Zenith Khambatta bristled with starships, here in the capital system of the Republic. Three fleets of the Republic Navy were here. It wasn't too unusual, that. Capital fleet only left Anaxes under the most dire need. Admiral Serrano's 3rd Fleet returned home to the capital at the end of any campaign. And new fleets had been assembled here more often than not, so with 12th Fleet almost -- but not quite -- ready to be activated, it was here as well. Add in the Corellian Expeditionary Force attached to 3rd Fleet -- only a Navy as massive as the Republic's or the Empire's would call it a task force, rather than a fleet in its own right -- and the military might assembled here ought to overawe anyone. Thus far, the Imperials had declined to be overawed.
She and eight others were flying E-Wings to form the lighter 3/4ths of a frigate's starfighter wing. The Republic Navy emphasized starfighters less now than they had before the New Republic had been proclaimed -- and even in the first decade or so after. Weapons and tactics had changed, and those changes meant combat favored capital ships. So the relatively small -- though absolutely quite large -- number of fighters the Republic Navy built were the best the Incom design team behind the X-Wing had been able to manage in a mass producible fighter.
At least, that had been the theory before the the P-Wing bombers that completed the wing had entered the Republic's weapons mix. They were almost too big for a frigate's fighter bays, and the slowest starfighter any major navy kept in service. But the P-Wing's proton missile launchers made it the most heavily armed starfighter in the galaxy, and a wing of them was a threat to almost any capital ship. Squadrons of them, with E-Wing escorts, had destroyed even Imperial III Star Destroyers before.
So the maneuvers she and the other pilots of the Taelros' fighter wing needed to be practiced, and this was her first run with them.
* * * *
Lt. (senior grade) Rosa Merridon didn't know Cmdr. Adriav Cyn, or even much about him. What she knew was that she was on the capital, and time in grade regulations were closing in on her fast. If she didn't make Lt. Cmdr. soon, the Republic Navy's strict 'up or out' policies were going to leave her seeking new employment. It was, of course, theoretically possible to waive those rules as a 'wartime emergency'. But since the time in grade rules had been put in place while there was a war going on, and routinely enforced while that war showed no signs of stopping, Rosa didn't think she'd be getting an exception. And was meeting with a mid-ranking officer who she'd never met before; hopefully it wasn't to give her some make-work assignment before drumming her out.
"There's been a chance of plans, ma'am." A young enlisted man told her when she arrived. "You'll be meeting Commander Cyn on his frigate, instead. There's a shuttle waiting; some of his new crew will be coming up with you."
That sounded promising.
* * * *
Inside RNS Taelros, the chief engineer tried to concentrate on one thing at a time. It was difficult. She was responsible for keeping the ship running now that it had formally left the yards. There were still yard workers on board; they wanted to keep close tabs on the first few of the new Sacheen-B frigates. They weren't all that different than the originals, but ten years of combat experience and new developments had produced some incremental changes, and the first of the new frigates were going out to 3rd Fleet and 12th Fleet. And all those little changes had caused some problems. Problems Lt. (senior grade) Saricia Targon and her subordinates had to fix.
Going from a department head on a cruiser to chief engineer on a frigate should not have been as much more work -- and less interesting work, at that -- as it seemed to be so far. She was beginning to wonder if she could have left her tools back on the Chandrila; she was spending far more time filling out forms than doing anything she considered actual engineering.
* * * *
"But Admiral Serrano says..." Lt. Ariel Karan began, and Storm began to tune out the Taelros' tactical officer, even though they were supposed to be working out gunnery drills together. The Cathar knew better. But he'd met officers like her before. They weren't always human, or women, or from the wealthiest families in the galaxy, but they usually were. And they'd decided they were going to turn themselves into the second coming of the woman who, according to most of the media in the Republic, single-handedly held the line against the Empire for the last fifteen years. He hadn't ever met the Fleet Admiral, but he rather suspected she disapproved.
It wasn't that Ariel lacked intelligence or education -- a family fortune that rivaled the Kandorians ensured the later, and the Republic Navy did not grant commissioned rank to anyone who lacked the former. And if she hadn't shown ability under fire, she would never have been promoted even once. But she seemed to have memorized anything Admiral Serrano had ever put in the public record. Jedi meditation techniques weren't invented for dealing with people like her, but they served.
"Thank you," Rosa says, pausing for a slight second to view the enlisted man's rank before repeating it. "I'll be along shortly." She straightens her uniform before she begins to make her way to the shuttle. If this mission was indeed simply busy work before she could be drummed out, she would at least perform it to the best of her ability.
A small amount of hope inside of her, she begins her trek to the shuttle.
__________________ "Sometimes things must be broken in order to be rebuilt." --Sith Proverb.
Yes lieutenant, I know what the admiral says. Storm turns to the human calmly and straightens his uniform. But as much as I respect the admiral's grasp of tactics, I highly doubt that she herself has fired a single shot from these new XV12 Turbolasers. Considering they have been on use only a few years, and admirals rarely shoot for themselves. Trust me on this, they pack a lot more bunch than the older model.
There is no emotion... That's what he kept saying to himself, but the other lieutenant wasn't making it easy on him. Maybe I should teach her the Code. It might do good to the other hotheads too.
OOC
Taking a bit of descriptive liberties here. Trying to keep it to a minimum impact of anything important
Last edited by Blackrat; 6th December 2008 at 10:57 PM..
There were two dozen people aboard the shuttle, mostly junior enlisted -- spacers and petty officers from six species and ten worlds, along with a few junior officers, to judge by appearances -- but not one of the others had someone waiting in the shuttle bay just for them. Rosa thought there was something familiar about the cheerful rating that escorted her to Commander Cyn, but she couldn't place the woman.
She hadn't expected a Miraluka, but the tell-tale band across the man's eyes made that clear. There weren't many of them in the Republic Navy, and even nearly twenty years after his death, the shadow of the fallen Miraluka Jedi who became Darth Pauran still lingered. If a human or a Duros or Twi'lek became a Dark Lord of the Sith -- well, there a great many others out there who were not. Alpheridies was a member in good standing of the Republic, but few Miraluka left their homeworld, and few outsiders came there.
"I've got a problem I think you can help me with, Lt." He said. "Lizsen Corse was supposed to be my exec. But she's going to be unavailable. My tactical officer is rather too junior to get another stripe. And the personnel department seems very uncooperative when a frigate commander tries to poach Lt. Commanders from cruisers or battleships. On the other hand, we have to be on our way in less than a week. And when we have three of Padme Solo's finest on board, and tactical officer with a serious case of hero worship for one of your mother's old friends, I thought you might work out. Of course, if you want the job, you'll need this."
Yes lieutenant, I know what the admiral says. Storm turns to the human calmly and straightens his uniform. But as much as I respect the admiral's grasp of tactics, I highly doubt that she herself has fired a single shot from these new XV12 Turbolasers. Considering they have been on use only a few years, and admirals rarely shoot for themselves. Trust me on this, they pack a lot more bunch than the older model.
There is no emotion... That's what he kept saying to himself, but the other lieutenant wasn't making it easy on him. Maybe I should teach her the Code. It might do good to the other hotheads too.
OOC
Taking a bit of descriptive liberties here. Trying to keep it to a minimum impact of anything important
Almost, he regretted that response. He certainly knew what she was going to reply before he said it. She didn't disappoint.
"That's true enough, but isn't the point of all of our new capital ships -- and even the P-wing bombers -- to hit the enemy with proton missiles while they're still outside of turbolaser range? That's why the admiral invented them." Which was true. Well, it was taking some liberties to say the Admiral invented proton missiles; she wrote a paper that suggested the concept of a larger, longer range missile for capital ships was workable, and then a lot of engineering effort at her father's company -- and what might be considered espionage, as Anaxes had still been technically part of the Empire when the project began -- went into actually building the the things.
But the problem with ignoring energy weapons entirely was twofold. In the first place, missiles ran out. And in the second place, while the Imperial Fleet was by and large older and less advanced than the Republic Fleet, it was still a lot bigger; if they were willing to sacrifice ships to close to turbolaser range, they could usually do it.
All I'm saying is that we have these turbolasers onboard for a reason, and we shouldn't omit the drills with them just because we don't expect to need them as much as before. But if you feel the need to increase the missile drills, we do it your way. I was just giving you a suggestion. That's what subordinate officers are for ma'am.
Storm takes care to keep his voice calm and totally devoid of all emotion. He had trained this as long as he could remember, but somehow the tactical officer managed to make it difficult.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge... As he got to this point in his mind, it started to seem even more imperative to teach her the Code.
OOC
I gathered that as tactical officer she is outranking Storm in ship hierarchy, and at least she's senior grade whereas Storm is only jr.
Zenith flexed her fingers impatiently as the fighter wing coasted in formation towards the first waypoint. She was a born flyer who loved the feel of acceleration and the crush of maneuvers. Real missions, training missions...it was all good. But the protracted run up to beginning was hard. She sighed and closed her eyes, finding a moment for meditation to ease the hungry ache in her fingers.
There was no passion; there was serenity. Zenith couldn't claim to embrace that tenet completely, but it had its advantages. And yet in some ways the Force -was- passion, and not all passions seemed to her to lead to the dark side. The fact was that she hadn't really thought much about it...she acted from instinct, from the gut. She trusted the Force, trusted that it was her and that she was it, and that it would not lead her astray.
Sometimes she thought Jedi fell to the dark side mainly because they spent so much time being afraid of it.
"Repeat; report in E-4."
Her eyes popped open. Oops!
"This is E-4, checking in," she replied quickly.
"Any problems?" the squadron leader inquired.
She shook her head...pointlessly, since there was no video link. "No sir. No problems."
The check-in continued, and Zenith grinned and put her hand on the throttle.
Rosa slowly takes the box off of the desk. "Thank you, sir," she says, hoping that she is indeed being promoted and this isn't some cruel joke as she opens it. "I am honored."
She salutes Commander Cyn, ignoring the slight--and knowingly wrong--twinge of unease at seeing one of his species.
__________________ "Sometimes things must be broken in order to be rebuilt." --Sith Proverb.
Rosa slowly takes the box off of the desk. "Thank you, sir," she says, hoping that she is indeed being promoted and this isn't some cruel joke as she opens it. "I am honored."
She salutes Commander Cyn, ignoring the slight--and knowingly wrong--twinge of unease at seeing one of his species.
She found the Lt. Commander's insignia she'd (mostly) expected to see in the box, along with those of 3rd Fleet and the 187th Frigate Squadron. Something twinged her memory about the 187th, but she'd have to look that up later.
"We'll see if you still think that six months from now." He said. He also slid a datapad over to her. "Specs of the ship, and crew dossiers. Lt. Targon will need to fill you in on where those specs don't exactly match what they actuallly built for us -- you might have noticed we're just out of the yards."
Rosa had; when a navy was growing as fast as the Republic's, most people had seen enough ships fresh from the builders to know the telltales.
Zenith hadn't met Lt. Lynial Gelian before she had reported to his starfighter squadron aboard RNS Taelros, but she got the impression the Twi'lek starfighter squadron leader was something of a throwback to the daredevil types that had flown starfighters in the earliest days of the Rebellion. Oh, he could manage the calm competence the New Republic Navy demanded, but he had to work at it. It wasn't his natural state.
Which probably had a lot to do with why the manuevers he set up always seemed to include one or two... interesting... challenges. Today had been no exception, but the squadron was learning to work together.
"Good job out there, kids." He said over the ship to ship communication. "A few more practice runs like that we may be ready to try things on real Imperials."
Inside RNS Taelros, the chief engineer tried to concentrate on one thing at a time. It was difficult. She was responsible for keeping the ship running now that it had formally left the yards. There were still yard workers on board; they wanted to keep close tabs on the first few of the new Sacheen-B frigates. They weren't all that different than the originals, but ten years of combat experience and new developments had produced some incremental changes, and the first of the new frigates were going out to 3rd Fleet and 12th Fleet. And all those little changes had caused some problems. Problems Lt. (senior grade) Saricia Targon and her subordinates had to fix.
Going from a department head on a cruiser to chief engineer on a frigate should not have been as much more work -- and less interesting work, at that -- as it seemed to be so far. She was beginning to wonder if she could have left her tools back on the Chandrila; she was spending far more time filling out forms than doing anything she considered actual engineering.
Sarcia was pouring over the tech specs when one of her subordinates came up to her and saluted. "Lieutenant Targon! I need your assistance, please sir... er ma'am... er..." Sarcia sighed. This was the part of the military she disliked the most. All the saluting and fanfare. She knew she would have to address this and now seemed the best time.
She stepped out into the middle of things and cleared her throat. "Could I have everyone's attention for a moment? I realize we are all in the military here, but as long as it is just us down here please address me as Sarcia. I want everyone to treat each other as equals. We have a job to do and we don't need PROPER PROTOCOL getting in the way. Don't be worrying about saluting either. You have much more important things to be doing with your hands. However, if we get a visitor from the command staff down here, I expect you to show proper protocol to them. Now! Let's get this bucket o' bolts working in top condition. OK!" There was a resounding, "Yes, Lieutenant Targon!", at which she held up her hand. "What did you say?" Then there was a resounding, "Yes!", and then a stumbled through, "Sarcia!", with a few still saying "Lieutenant Targon!". "That is better. Now get back to work."
She turns to the one that had come to ask her help before. "Now! What did you need help with?" The wide-eyed young man nodded. "Yes ma'a... I mean Sarcia. I am having trouble getting a power coupling to lock down." Sarcia nods to the young man. "Then show me where it is and we'll have a look." As she followed him to the spot she simply smiled.
Zenith smiled at the lieutenant's words, even at the subtle condescension implicit in calling the fighter pilots 'kids.' Unlike a lot of other pilots she knew, she was fine with practice. Flying was flying, and a well-done practice was challenging and competitive enough to satisfy her. Zenith didn't shy from combat, but she didn't eagerly anticipate it either. One consequence of feeling the Force was knowing deep in her bones that there were people in those Imperial fighters, people who were by and large no worse than their foes.
She always felt a little sad, having to kill them. Oh, not TOO bad. The war had to be won, most definitely. The Empire's policies were far more destructive than the Republic's, and hurt many more people over time and space. And the Imperial pilots made the same choice the Republic ones did; that she herself did...to put their lives on the line for their side. They didn't have anything to complain about then, if that life was lost.
Nevertheless, it wasn't work she enjoyed. It was duty, taken seriously but not celebrated.
"Are we shipping out soon then, 'dad?'" Zenith inquired lightly. "The spaceways here are too crowded for us I think."
Rosa takes a brief look at the dossier handed to her, intending to look over it more on the turbo and/or tram ride to her new designated station. The 187th... she thought, wondering why that named seemed somewhat familiar to her. Must have been a holobroadcast, she mentally added.
"I may not," she replies to the commander's words with a slight chuckle. "It's still much better than the alternative, sir. Is there anything else, sir?" she asks, and will leave when she's dismissed.
__________________ "Sometimes things must be broken in order to be rebuilt." --Sith Proverb.
All I'm saying is that we have these turbolasers onboard for a reason, and we shouldn't omit the drills with them just because we don't expect to need them as much as before. But if you feel the need to increase the missile drills, we do it your way. I was just giving you a suggestion. That's what subordinate officers are for ma'am.
...
OOC
I gathered that as tactical officer she is outranking Storm in ship hierarchy, and at least she's senior grade whereas Storm is only jr.
"I think we'll do both. We've still got a few days left on station here before we ship out." She said.
She knew she came across as more than a little arrogant to her fellow officers. And that she had a case of hero worship for the Fleet Admiral that really wasn't healthy. But it was hard not to; she'd changed Anaxes so much just by being herself and in so showing Anaxses' daughters could command warships just as well as its sons -- and that Anaxsi could be more than just the sword arm of whoever ruled the galaxy. Ariel didn't think she was any kind of revolutionary, but she was glad for the revolutions that already happened -- that meant being on the bridge of ship of war made her a proper daughter of high society on Anaxes, not the black sheep of the family.
ooc
That's correct on ranks; chain of command is Commander Cyn, then Rosa. Ariel, Sarcia, and Lynial Gelian (the fighter squadron commander) have roughly equal rank (Lt. Gelian is actual the most senior of them), but Ariel's command track and the other two aren't.
"Are we shipping out soon then, 'dad?'" Zenith inquired lightly. "The spaceways here are too crowded for us I think."
"A few more days. Scuttlebut has it that the old man found us a replacement exec," Lt. Gelian said, "which would be the last of the senior officers to join our merry band. Giver her a few days to get to know the ship, and our lovely chief engineer a few more to make sure nothing's going to happen to the ship while it's still under warranty, and we'll be ready to go."
She turns to the one that had come to ask her help before. "Now! What did you need help with?" The wide-eyed young man nodded. "Yes ma'a... I mean Sarcia. I am having trouble getting a power coupling to lock down." Sarcia nods to the young man. "Then show me where it is and we'll have a look." As she followed him to the spot she simply smiled.
When Sarcia and the engineering rating she was working with were just about done solving his problems with a power coupling, she got yet another page. This one was from the captain, though. Commander Cyn wanted her to show the new exec around the ship, and give an overview of what it could do.
Quote:
Originally Posted by possum
Rosa takes a brief look at the dossier handed to her, intending to look over it more on the turbo and/or tram ride to her new designated station. The 187th... she thought, wondering why that named seemed somewhat familiar to her. Must have been a holobroadcast, she mentally added.
"I may not," she replies to the commander's words with a slight chuckle. "It's still much better than the alternative, sir. Is there anything else, sir?" she asks, and will leave when she's dismissed.
"Not just yet. I'll see you and some of the other officers at dinner." He said, dismissing her.
She had just enough time to look up why the 187th was significant. Special operations command. Usually spread out across half the galaxy in single ships or pairs and only part of the main body of 3rd Fleet enough to provide a cover. And, as of six months ago, under the command of the recently re-activated Vice Admiral Han Solo. Rumor had it that he'd demanded a command from Admiral Serrano a few weeks after Leia died... and she'd sent him to the flag officer's course to prove he was up to it.
A few days. That gnawed a bit. She wasn't aching for conflict, but Zenith did get bored of sitting in one place for too long.
"Any idea where we'll be going?" the Jedi pilot asked hopefully.
"Not just yet. We're the 187th; the captain might tell us where we're going once we're in hyperspace." He said. "Though we might be sticking with the main body of the Fleet for once; the Admiral can't be concentrating this much force here unless she's planning something big. Unless she thinks the Imperials are going to attack Anaxes... but I think that's up there with attacking Coruscant as the dumbest thing that keeps being tried in this war."
The captain was waiting for the fighter squadron when they finished their manuevers, along with a young woman none of them recognized -- or rather, Zenith did, the Jedi Academy being rather too small to not know someone roughly the same age, but none of the others recognized her. "I'm sorry to do this to you," He told Lt. Gelian, "Especially before we even leave home port, but I'm afraid high command's decided to steal your second. The officer slated to command Narren's starfighter wing was lost in action yesterday, so they've elected to promote Lt. Naadar to fill the slot. Congratulations, and good luck.
"That does leave us down a fighter pilot. However, our friends in the Corellian Expeditionary Force have loaned us a replacement. Lt. Starglow? Welcome aboard."
"Thank you sir. I'll try not to be too Corellian for you to handle." the young woman replied the ghost of a smirk on her lips. She was wearing a flightsuit in the colors of the Corellian Expeditionary Force attached to the 3rd Fleet, and had a helmet tucked under her left arm.
Turning to face Lt. Gelian and her new squadron mates the young woman sketched a salute in the looser manner of the Corellian Armed Forces as opposed to the more professional Republic style. "Lt. Istara Starglow, nice to meet you." she says simply, her name conjuring up images of two seperate admirals serving with the third fleet.
Tapping her helmet to emphasize an image painted on it, that of a trio of Sabbaac cards making up the idiot's array, Istara added for the benifit of everyone but Zenith "Feel free to call me Wildcard, Zenith knows the story behind it. I graduated from the Jedi Academy, joined the Corellian Navy, and then was immediately trasnferred here as my first assignment." the brown haired pilot explains, giving a brief thumbnail of her history to those she would be working with. Her lightsaber jangles on her thigh for those who look to see it.
Last edited by Shalimar; 11th December 2008 at 12:00 AM..
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