I think I'm going to join, I'll be creating a hare character, wot. What's my deadline again please?
Dusty
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I think I'm going to join, I'll be creating a hare character, wot. What's my deadline again please?
I find discord usually helps out, especially if anyone wants to pursue co-ops with google docs. So I say go for it.
@Romero Excellent, I look forward to your PM. As for his age, I am fairly locked into Tommy being sixteen, I feel its fitting to the character I want to write. Besides, he's more than willing to tell a few white lies about his age if necessary, just like his older brother did for the war. After all, an opportunistic scoop like this is worth the risk of getting caught.
So by all means my good Prince, present the hurdles and I shall leap them.
I would like to potentially cast my character into the mix.
I'd be willing to fashion a character for this. Any particular archetypes you're looking for?
The entire process of unloading several hundred personnel from transport to each waiting warship was surprisingly short. Sharp Republic militaristic discipline shone true as the men and women formed orderly rows in the transport’s cavernous receiving deck. The airlocks would seal, the lines of men would march through the narrow passage, from which the airlocks would reseal, and a new warship would take the place of the first. Everything went smoothly, and slowly the receiving deck emptied out until less than two score passengers were left waiting. Syal stood alongside Tiom a short way away from the rest of the Ralroost’s enlisted crewmembers. Although they were technically officers, they were not officially members of the Republic Navy, and were somewhat ostracized from the thirty odd mechanics, troopers, and gunners who made up the larger contingent. Luckily a grizzled looking sergeant had taken charge of the enlisted men, relieving the two pilots of the awkward task of assuming command. After all military doctrine demanded someone needed to always be in a position of leadership, but the pair of Ranger ensigns didn’t exactly savor the challenge. Not to mention the uncertain position of authority they actually held amongst Republic soldiers. Instead, they were content to let the sergeant bark his orders while they talked in low tones, theorizing over what their first missions might be.
Tiom was busy explaining his own thoughts on that very matter. “There’s been trouble brewing over Rodia. Territorial disputes between Ragna and Rodia, I’ve been following along over the holonews. I’ve heard that Alliance Command is considering deploying a few teams of Rangers to help settle things, along with several war ships on the edge of the system. Just incase things turn hot, seeing as Rodia is a Republic planet and Ragna is an independent world.”
Syal was more skeptical. “Isn’t Rodia on the other end of the galaxy from us? If any war craft were deployed it should be from the fourth fleet at Christophsis. Where’d you get all that from anyway? Surely that’s not information the Alliance or the Republic leadership let float around.”
“Uh, yeah that’s true.” Tiom shuffled suddenly slightly embarrassed he’d so easily released somewhat confidential information. “I heard it from my uncle actually, he’s well positioned in the Alliance, hm, maybe don’t spread that around. Just in case.”
Syal resisted the urge to snort. It was the sort of thing she was used to. Being privy to technically classified state secrets came with being family to high-ranking officials within the government. “Don’t worry, I know how to keep a secret.” She promised. “Still, I doubt we’d be deployed to Rodia. For one It’d take the Third fleet too far from her defense sectors against First Order space.” She certainly hoped they weren’t sent to Rodia. Such a trip would take days and she didn’t feel like settling petty disputes between Rodians and Ragai.
They continued like this as the airlock opened and the line of enlisted personnel marched forward onto the waiting Ralroost, the two pilots following at a distance. Within the bulk of the Bothan assault cruiser a small team of Republic marines were checking identification before ushering the arriving men towards their duty stations to report their arrival. When at last their turn arrived a stocky marine lieutenant with a large bristling mustache stepped forward and eyed the ID cards they thrust towards him. “Ensign Lysa Dunter, and Ensign Tiom Rordan, looks like everything is in order. Alliance Rangers huh? Yes we’ve got a good dozen of you folks onboard already. Sword squadron, was it?”
“VibroSword squadron, yes sir.” Syal answered while stowing the card away. “Any idea where our barracks are? We’d like to drop off our gear.”
“Probably with the rest of Ralroost’s pilots, but says here your orders are to report directly to Deck C, conference room twelve.” The marine informed them, double checking his datapad. “Guess you’ll have to lug it with you.”
Tiom and Syal exchanged glances. Ordered to report immediately not even given time to drop their things. Such swift summons did not bode well. Either their squadron leader had no patience, or the Rangers were being deployed a bit sooner then they expected. Thanking the marine, the two pilots hefted their heavy space bags and began the considerable walk down the kilometer long ship. Hiking briskly in muted trepidation and curiosity.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Much of the tension on the bridge had subsided. After their successful launch the Ralroost joined the loose formation of vessels suspended over Kuat, flanked by her twin escort corvettes. Captain Kre’fey wasted little time in ordering his ship from standby to stand-down, as they waited for the last of their crew to join them off the small transport that was flitting like a butterfly from one cruiser to the next. Reclining in his captain’s chair on the raised dais Traest half listened to his bridge staff go about their work. There wasn’t much to do, and many of the young officers had struck up conversations while they monitored their stations.
“Captain sir,” Traest’s ears perked up as the comm officer spun her chair to address him. “A secure line from the Defender, requesting to speak to you directly. Admiral Nantz sends his regards.”
Curious Traest reached for his personal headset and sat a little straighter in his chair. “The Admiral? Patch him through lieutenant.”
A small holo display appeared on the panel and Traest found himself staring down at the seated image of Admiral Frimus Nantz. Although the flicking blue concealed much, nothing could hide the Admiral’s age. Thin hair Traset knew to be pure white hung from his head, and his cheeks sagged with wrinkles. Still, the venerable admiral had never lost his edge, and possessed the rugged toughness that should belong to a man half his age.
Captain Kre’fey saluted, not dropping the honorific until the admiral lowered his own. “Good afternoon admiral I am happy to report all is well aboard the Ralroost. We, along with Task Force Green will be ready for scheduled departure within the hour.”
“Yes, yes very good…” The admiral seemed distracted, something outside of the hologram’s projection absorbing the majority of his interest. “Afternoon.” He added, almost as an afterthought as he refocused his attention on Traest. “I am making this hail to inform you of some… Visitors, you’ll be receiving soon.”
Traset glanced towards the viewport to where the transport had already detached from the Ralroost’s airlock and was vectoring towards the planet. Surely the admiral wasn’t contacting him over a secure line to tell him about that. No, the Ralroost would be receiving a different guest, one Traest doubted he would much like. The bothan’s eyes narrowed, and a soft growl emanated from his throat. “What sort of visitors?”
Nantz’s held an apologetic tone. “A political representative, sent by the Republic to monitor, advise and, inform on your mission readiness.” He stressed the last part, a hint of warning in his old eyes.
Traset felt his ears involuntarily flatten against his skull, and the fur on the back of his neck bristle in indignation. “Task force green is assigned a training mission, in deep space. We hardly need a bureaucrat breathing down our necks. This is not only unnecessary, but perhaps even an insult. Does the Republic not trust me to run my own ship without a nanny?”
Nantz did not flinch at the aggressive display or harsh words, instead he crossed his arms. “There will be another, personage aboard the representatives shuttle. Officially she is the representative’s assistant. You may wish to have a private meeting with them once they board. You’ll be in hyperspace enroute by then of course.”
Despite his umbrage Traest caught the subtle message. He nodded, willing his fur to settle and his ears to retake their natural upright position. “As you order admiral. Is there anything else sir?”
“No, that will be all. May the force be with you Captain.” With that the secure line winked off and the admiral’s blue visage vanished. A thousand and one questions burned through Traest’s mind as he sat back in his chair, running his claws absently through his beard. He’d been right initially, there was no need for a political advisor on a simple training mission. Due to the Ralroost’s green crew and Traset’s own extended leave from service the ship had been authorized for a deep space live fire training mission along with her twin escorts. A way to dust off the rust and for Traest to get a feel for his new crewmen. However, the unnamed political advisor’s very presence hinted at something larger going on, something highly classified. Moreover, Traest suspected that the second guest, the PA’s so called assistant was the more important of the two. Clapping his hands together Traest summoned his trusted EO to his side. Commander Sarl Jaeger was there in an instant.
“Jaeger, have a secure conference room drawn up and prepped for a confidential meeting. You and me along with two others. Have it guarded, but otherwise keep it close to the chest as possible. A need to know basis.”
“At once sir.”
As Sarl strode briskly off Traest addressed the next matter at hand. “Lieutenant Commander Aref’ja. The bridge is yours until my or Commander Jaeger’s return. In our absence continue with the scheduled departure.” A brown furred bothan turned at the sound of his name. If Sarl Jaeger was Traset’s right hand, Bren Aref’ja was his trusted left. He gave a sharp salute.
“My pleasure sir.”
The tasks delegated as needed Traest rose from his chair and strode off the dais, primping at his uniform as he did. Best to make a good first impression he figured, that would be the best way to garner some much-desired answers from his mysterious new guests.
The Republic transport shuddered against moderate turbulence as the chaotic blue blur of hyperspace flashed by, duly illuminating the rows of viewports running down the vessel’s oblong hull. Halfway down the bulk Ranger engisn Syal Antilles, known by most as only Lysa Dunter stared out into the vast unknown that was hyperspace, suffering from the inescapable plague that befell so many soldiers. Boredom. For the past forty-eight hours she’d been trapped within the overcrowded transport, along with nearly two thousand other crew from the Third Republic fleet, flying nonstop from Corellia to Kuat. At first, she had tried to sleep the journey away, as she was technically an officer, albeit an ensign, afforded her some limited privacy. She’d been granted quarters separated from the bulk enlisted housing, shared with four other female ensigns. The treatment granted her the ability rest for hours at a time without being disturbed, but after nearly two days of constant bunk time the energetic young woman felt if she got any more sleep, she, might start tearing her own hair out. Instead, she distracted herself idly by the viewport cleaning her pistol for the third time.
“All personnel, please standby for the captain’s announcement.” A robotic feminine voice announced over the ship’s intercom. Syal glanced up from her polished barrel. Maybe they were getting close to their destination. She checked her chrono. Yes, they had been enroute for almost the entirety of the predicted forty-three-hour flight. She quickly began assembling her pistol as a more masculine, and organic voice replaced the first, reverberating across the entire transport. “We shall be reverting to realspace over Kuat in an estimated fifteen minutes. Have your equipment and belongings properly packed for safe airlock transfer. We will be docking onto the Defender first, followed by the Indomitable, the Mothma, the Mon Sasorra and finally the Ralroost. If you have been assigned to an escort corvette or gunboat please disembark at your vessel’s lead-ship. You will be transferred from there separately.” His piece said the captain cut off the intercom bringing silence back to the halls.
Syal glanced towards her small bag containing all her worldly goods. Most of which were her spare uniforms. She hadn’t unpacked, there had not been space or need too, which meant she had nothing to do for the next twenty minutes, plus however long it took to reach the Ralroost down at the end of the disembarking list. Sighing she began disassembling her pistol again. A loud knock on her cabin hatch distracted her. Weird Syal thought, normally her cabin mates just barged in unannounced. “Enter.” She said, curious as to who might be calling. The portal buzzed open and there stood a young man, roughly her age with wild dark hair and a Ranger’s indigo flight uniform. Now that piqued Syal’s interest. She had thought she was the only Ranger onboard. It was strange, that on such a cramped ship she could have missed his presence, but to be fair she’d spent most of the time in her cabin, leaving only for the refresher and meals.
“Mind if I come in?” He asked from the threshold. Syal affirmed her consent and he stepped inside. “It took me awhile to track you down, I only half believed it when I heard there was another Ranger pilot onboard.” He explained as he plopped down in the rack opposite her. He extended a hand which Syal shook. “Tiom Rordan, and you are…?”
“Lysa, Lysa Dunter” Syal answered quickly, using the name that she’d chosen to conceal her identity as daughter of one of the most famous pilots in the galaxy. The exchanged the usual pleasantries custom to Corellia. Finally, after a short pause Tiom brought up what they were both thinking.
“Assigned to the Swords as well I assume?”
“Vibrosword Twelve, that’s me.” Syal huffed, the low placing as number twelve marked her as a replacement, but only Tiom grinned.
“And I’m Sword Eleven, I guess that explains why were a both traveling from Corellia to Kuat. Though…” He paused, a light of confusion in his eyes. “I don’t remember you from the academy. Were you not in Boresk Training Company?”
Syal shook her head. The training companies were large, big enough that it was possible to not know everyone who participated but she recognized why they’d never met in an instant. “I was in Rondo Compony, a month behind yours.
“Oh,” he paused, and Syal knew what his next question would be before he spoke. “Why are you back from leave so early?”
The first awkward silence hung between them as Syal tried to determine that answer herself. Mixed feelings of betrayal, personal responsibility, selfish pride, and the unease of her somewhat precarious situation warred in her mind. All of it surmounted by the simple fact that she couldn’t tell this Tiom Rordan the truth. She fished desperately for a cover story, and decided on one that was close enough to the truth that she wouldn’t forget or flub the details in its no doubt numerous retellings. “I dunno,” she said at last. “Family trouble. And I guess I wanted to get into the action. No reason to sit around for a month doing nothing.”
He seemed to accept her vague explanation, and thankfully did not try and pry further. Instead, he surprised her with a different, rather candid point. “That wasn’t very smart of you.”
Slightly miffed Syal raised an eyebrow at the remark. “Really?”
Tiom held up his hands defensively. “That came out more insulting than it should have. Its just, I’ve been told Rangers don’t get two seconds of personal time after their first mission. We’ll be bounced from one end of the galaxy to the next solving disputes and fighting and helping. There’s a reason why they give us a month of personal time before deployment, that’s all.”
Frowning Syal considered his explanation. She’d heard similar rundowns of Ranger life from veterans, but she’d always thought they were exaggerating for effect. After over forty hours of doing nothing she felt she would appreciate some non-stop duties. Whatever the case it didn’t matter now, she’d already been deployed, and her days of leave were forfeit. Syal was saved a response when the blue swirl of hyperspace slowed and formed into a sea of tiny pinpricks of light against the inky blackness of eternity. For a moment the transport hung in space, and then the sublight engines kicked on and the ship lurched forward, making course for the large Mon Cal cruiser at the center of the Republic fleet. They had arrived at last!
Tiom jumped to his feet, an eager light in his eyes. “I need to go get my things. I almost forgot we were so close to Kuat. So, can I meet you again down in the airlock before we report to Squadron Leader Hardus? We might as well do it together. What’s your name again, Lysa right?”
Syal finished reassembling her pistol and shook his hand again. He seemed a good man. Eager to please and pleasant, if somewhat blunt about his thoughts and intentions. She found herself glad he’d sought her out before they arrived on the Ralroost. It gave them a bit of familiarity, and support. Two rookies who could learn the ropes together instead of being thrown to the wolves alone amidst an unfamiliar environment. “That’s right, I’m Lysa and you’re Tiom. See you down there, Ranger.”
He waved as he left, just as Syal’s three cabin mates returned last minute to collect their belongings. Syal checked her chrono again and was surprised to see the captain’s earlier estimate had been slightly off. It had been almost twenty minutes.
The war behemoths of the Republic rested like slumbering whales, suspended within the void. There were near fifteen in total, and they made up a large proportion of the Third Republic Fleet assembling over the emerald green world of Kuat, halfway between the twin moons. They were a motley sort, so unlike the regimental ex imperial and First Order fleets where every ship was made and designed purpose built and symmetrical. Among the unregimented Republic forces Liberty Class Mon Cal ships drifted close to Nebulon-B frigates, intermingling with a pair of old Providence-class destroyers. Even a large, conspicuously out of place Victory-1 star destroyer hovered in close proximity to the centerpiece MC80 cruiser, from which Admiral Frimus Nantz flew his flag. In-between them all rested nearly thirty different support ships, corvettes and gunboats sticking close to their larger charges as a child would to a parent. There they waited patiently, just within Kuat’s gravity well for the remainder of the fleet to finish repairing and refitting in the great Kuati shipyards that ringed the ancient planet below.
One such ship, a sturdy Bothan Assault Cruiser, christened the Ralroost reclined against her mooring restraints as EV suited dock hands prepared the final touches for the ship’s release. She’d spent the last two months strapped down over Kuat, being refitted with shiny new guns, powerful shielding, and dedicated active and passive scanners. Meanwhile a full compliment of crew, nearly fifteen hundred in total had been arriving daily, filling the empty cabin space, and manning the necessary stations in preparation for lift off. Within Ralroost’s forward bridge a flurry of activity was taking place as new officers took their positions, running system checks and numerous checklists. At the center of it all Captain Traest Kre’fey stood ramrod straight, his hands clasped neatly behind his back in the perfect position of parade rest. Only his tufted ears moved, twitching this way and that as he observed the goings on. Nothing escaped his sharp hearing, and judgmental gaze, and more than one young officer felt the hair on the back of their neck stand straight when the violet eyes fixed on them. The bridge, and the rest of the larger crew were made up of a roughly even mixture of bothans and humans, with several other races mixed into the larger whole. They worked steadily, and Traest found himself unable to find complaint in their competency.
His veteran crew were largely dispersed after the Ralroost was decommissioned, and were spread out amongst the four Republic fleets or outright retired. Instead of the expert crewmen that’d served under him before, Traest found himself commanding a majority green crew, with only a spattering of aged familiar faces amongst the sea of youth. Circumstances as they were it was unavoidable, Traest had no one to blame but himself. Still, watching them at work lifted some of the anxiety he’d been feeling over the past week as the academy fresh officers had streamed aboard.
“Sir, the Yard is prepared to release tethers at your order.” A young bothan female, a junior grade lieutenant and his new communications officer swiveled in her chair to face Captain Kre’fey. One hand held ready on her headset to send the reply back to Yard Control.
The bothan gave the woman a slight incline of his head to show he’d heard and said. “Excellent lieutenant, inform them to standby and await instructions. Helm, fire repulserlifts and prepare for launch, five degree climbing gradient, ten percent forward thrust. Conversion, route power to the engines, and raise soft impact shields, Navigation route a course to put us alongside Starshield and Voidtrotter. Commander Jaeger, if you would be so kind, inform the crew, we’ll be departing in two minutes.”
“Yessir!” Came the chorus as the bridge made the last minute preparations.
The Ralroost roared to life, a tiny vibration could be felt underfoot as the engines provided life to the repulsers that would get them clear of the yard. At the command panel an older human male pressed a button, projecting his voice across the Ralroost to all the waiting crew. “All hands this is Commander Jaeger, prepare for launch within two minutes and standby for further orders.” Leaving the console Commander Sarl Jaeger joined Traest on the raised dais running between the two crew pits, folding his arms and letting his gaze wander the busy bridge. “They aren’t doing half bad for a bunch of freshies, I was right when I said you were underestimating them. Seems like you owe me a drink.”
The bothan Captain raised an eyebrow at his Executive Officer’s comment. The human was grinning, and although human expressions still mostly eluded Traest he knew a playful jab when he heard one. Sarl Jaeger was a longtime friend, and trusted right hand man, and perhaps the only being onboard the Ralroost who felt comfortable teasing the ship’s captain. Sarl was one of the few veterans Traest had insisted upon returning to his command. It had taken a considerable amount of string pulling, but in the end he had succeeded in getting Sarl as his EO once again. Traest spoke, a hint of humor in his tone. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself Commander? I would hardly consider this adequate evidence; we haven’t even left the docks yet.”
Sarl shrugged, noncommittedly. “Ah, perhaps sir. But I know a good bunch when I see them, they’ll prove me right in the end, just you watch. Isn’t that right Lieutenant Renwar?” The Commander’s gaze snap locked onto the Tactical Officer who’d been none to discreetly eavesdropping on his superior’s conversation.
The young man flushed bright red, a telltale sign of human embarrassment among other emotions Traest knew. “Yes sir, I mean, uh, sorry sirs.” Renwar stammered, uncertain what he should do under the fierce gaze of his leaders.
“Attend your station, lieutenant.” Traest’s tone carried a soft growl of warning, but little else. The kid was only just over two decades old, and unlike the rest of the bridge crew, tactical was the closest to the dais, with little to do other than watch and listen. Captain Kre’fey couldn’t really blame him for losing focus. Renwar stuttered a second apology and went back to monitoring his empty display screen.
Traest returned his attention to the forward viewport, everything was ready, and the silent countdown in his head ticked down to zero. “Are you ready, Commander?” He asked of his EO, the human was very pointedly not looking at him, his face twisted in barely controlled mirth.
It took an extra second for Sarl to recover but eventually he nodded. “At your command, Captain.”
“Very well. Comm, have us released.” The bothan at the communications station relayed the order, and a brief moment later a metallic clunk could be heard as the magnetic clamps holding the Ralroost in place released.
“We are free floating sir.” The bothan helmsman supplied before pressing the forward throttle. “Underway!”
Traest felt a small shift as the ship glided forward and the artificial gravity readjusted to their forward movement. At long last, after nearly four years he was back aboard his bridge. Surrounded by loyal men and women on a Republic warship, making course for the stars. The bothan inhaled the recycled air and released it with a grateful sigh. It had been far too long.
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