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Thread: The Last Grand Admiral [IC]

  1. #136
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    Keliz flopped down into the co-pilots chair after doing the pre-flight inspection. "It's no starfighter, and there's a bit of jury-rigging here and there, but for the purposes of transporting us from point Aurek to point Besh it'll perform adequately." She ran through the ship's maintenance records while they waited for the Bothan to signal her preparedness.
    I awoke
    Only to find my lungs empty
    And through the night
    So it seems I'm not breathing
    And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be - Dallas Green (City and Colour), Sleeping Sickness

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    Quote Originally Posted by Ardent View Post
    Keliz flopped down into the co-pilots chair after doing the pre-flight inspection. "It's no starfighter, and there's a bit of jury-rigging here and there, but for the purposes of transporting us from point Aurek to point Besh it'll perform adequately." She ran through the ship's maintenance records while they waited for the Bothan to signal her preparedness.
    "Oh, believe me," Garven said as he looked over the console, "I can see it's no fighter. Where's our ambassador, anyways?"
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  3. #138
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    “I can tell you a little about one of the military’s representatives in the region. A commander Rontam...”
    As he said her name his eyes were fixed upon Irys’, trying to catch any reaction.
    “She’s an old soldier. A veteran of the Clone Wars and stubborn with it. As many scars as she has wrinkles. She is however an honourable type: you know how it is with warriors. Doesn’t respond too well to those of us who wield a pen rather than a sword. I am also lead to believe she’s quite the dejarik player. Often shares a table with old foes and new friends.”
    As Nal'eru dropped the name, Irys arched an eyebrow overtly. She couldn't be sure just how good Nal'eru was at reading expression, and she wanted to give nothing away, so she tried to force a reaction a bit, just to compromise her own natural reaction. He'd been fairly magnanimous, but bothans weren't a trusting sort.

    "Soldier, you say?", at this, she allowed herself a slight grin, "Well, it wouldn't surprise me if we find more soldier allies coming from the other side than our own."

    After this, she thanked Nal'eru and took her leave, making her way to the shuttle bay...
    W.W.G.D. - What would Grimace do?

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  4. #139
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    As Irys makes her way aboard the shuttle, the comm crackles to life:
    Marrab’s Pride to Dawn Zephyr, you are cleared for launch on bearing zero-nine-zero. Clear skies.”
    Beyond the magnetic field the space lanes around Obroa-Skai were relatively normal: cargo haulers and bulk freighters ponderously moving toward or away from the planet, though there was a noticeably increased security presence: PDF Headhunters and picket ships patrolling in between the larger vessels. There was supposedly little threat of further Imperial aggression though that hadn’t stopped the panic-mongers, which was probably the cause of the increased security. Still, things were better than they had been on a dozen other worlds after Imperial attacks over the last months. Fleets ambushed and reduced to clouds of debris, and not just local PDFs: Chrondash’s New Republic task force wasn’t the first to have been outsmarted by whoever was at the helm of the Empire these days.

  5. #140
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    Keliz keys the frequency open and responds "Dawn Zephyr copies launch clearance bearing zero-niner-zero Pride control. Good hunting." With an efficiency gleaned from a lifetime aboard ship she prepares to assist Garven in clearing the shuttle from the docking bay and all systems quickly thrum to full power. She turns to Garven with an expectant stare. "Do you have the ball, Captain?" she asks gently, knowing the man was likely struggling with the idea of being at the controls again. Pilots were like that: take them out of the cockpit even for a little while and they have to be pushed, sometimes kicking and screaming, back into it. Their confidence had to be rebuilt one block at a time. Keliz could appreciate that. It was the kind of project that she enjoyed most: refurbishing a classic.
    I awoke
    Only to find my lungs empty
    And through the night
    So it seems I'm not breathing
    And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be - Dallas Green (City and Colour), Sleeping Sickness

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    "I'm not even supposed to be flying," Garven muttered, but underneath it he was practically jumping to hyperspace himself.

    He did it step by step. Checked everything over one last time. Brought repulsorlifts up to full. Angled towards the hanger exit. Goosed it just a bit, just enough to feel the faint hint of power, enough to watch the shuttle glide across the hanger towards the deep black of space. Watched the lateral sensors to make sure he wasn't going to hit anything. Watched the aft sensors to see how far he was from the magcon shield and the Pride. And then, when he was far enough away, he engaged the ion engines.

    Whoosh!

    It wasn't exactly a kick in the pants, but the Dawn Zephyr took off, and gently pressed Garven back into his seat. He radioed back to the Pride his thanks, then set a course for the jump point.

    The most amazing part was that he wasn't even sweating.
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  7. #142
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    Once the shuttle reaches the jump point Garven slides back the hyperspace lever and the stars extend into lines before swirling into the misty blue of hyperspace.
    Lieutenant Keliz Rheir, Captain Garven Senesca and Irys Kas'lya were on their way to Rathalay to meet with Grand Admiral Octavian Grant.

  8. #143
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    Keliz shoos Garven out of the cockpit insisting on the first watch, then busies herself reading the full files on Grant and Rathalay and then runs more thorough searches on the whereabouts and activities of Grant's known subordinates and associates. She imagined Irys was doing the same thing right now but the diplomat might have other concerns in mind.
    I awoke
    Only to find my lungs empty
    And through the night
    So it seems I'm not breathing
    And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be - Dallas Green (City and Colour), Sleeping Sickness

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    "Alright, everyone, stand by," Garven said, then bringing the ship up to lightspeed. There was the hum as the hyperdrives kick in, briefly hitting a high pitched squeal (That's a bit unnerving) before returning to a healthy background thrum.

    "Ladies and ladies, I want to thank you for traveling with Senesca Starways today. Please remember to fill out your customer survey form to let us know how we're d--"

    "All right, all right," Keliz muttered as she shooed him out. "Get out of here, I have work to do."

    "Hey now, I'm--"

    "Out."

    Garven shrugged. "Far be it from me to argue with a lady," he told Irys. He did run one quick check to make sure all was in order on his end, then got up and left the cockpit. His next stop was the caf dispenser, where he grabbed a quick cup, and turned his attention towards the tactical info about Grant's estate. He didn't want to get caught unprepared like last time.
    Last edited by SmugglerJedi; 8 June 2012 at 07:49 PM. Reason: I messed up my tenses!
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  10. #145
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    "Far be it from me to argue with a lady,"
    As Garven entered the main passenger lounge, Irys caught this comment and smirked up at him, glancing away from the display on her datapad only briefly.

    Though she'd been her usual reserved, somewhat standoffish self thus far on the ship, in her own mind, she felt a bit more at ease with these two, after the way they'd handled themselves on Obroa-skai. True, it wasn't like having a team of seasoned bothan diplomats, but these two seemed fairly adaptable. The human, while being a...typical human...was still not without merit, and this, while being barred from performing in his main intended capacity as a combat pilot. The other...Keliz...seemed much more of a sensible sort. The type of person Irys could see herself choosing to work with, without the assignments of the bureaucracy. Had she been so inclined, Irys was sure Keliz could have made an excellent diplomat.

    "Judging by your apparent departure from the command area, I trust our esteemed companion is well?", Irys asked, the faintest of grins playing over her cream-furred countenance.
    W.W.G.D. - What would Grimace do?

    What kind of dust?
    Dirt-laced dust. Probably originating from the ground.

  11. #146
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    "Oh, she'll be fine. Nothing to worry about," Garven said to the diplomat. She was so...formal, with everything. But then, she was a New Republic ambassador, and a Bothan at that. It wasn't odd.

    "We should be right on schedule for Rathalay," he added, making sure to get his caf. "We'll be annoying the NRI staff there before you know it."
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  12. #147
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    As Garven draws himself a cup of hot caf, Irys again looked up from her reading, then stood and crossed the passenger lounge with her own empty caf cup.

    "Good idea.", she murmured, nodding to the caf dispenser, "Sometimes it seems as though the entire Diplomatic Corps runs on a steady supply of caf. The lucky vrelt that snapped up the contract for Republic Roast probably has a villa on Rathalay himself by now."

    Dropping a capsule of powdered traladon cream into her mug, she sighed, without bothering to re-establish eye contact with the pilot, "Though I'm sure it's no different in the Starfighter Corps..."

    For the briefest of moments, an expression flashed across her face. Regret at a foot-in-mouth moment? As soon as it appeared though, it was gone, though. Turning to face Garven, she continued, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...well...I'm sorry. We all have moments of poor judgement, some are lucky enough to have those moments out of the public eye. Clearly, you weren't quite so lucky. But you're here."

    the cream-furred bothan took a sip of her caf, "By that, I mean, you're on assignment. It's clear that your...well...whoever decides such things as consequences in the military...meant it when they said 'suspension', as opposed to something more permanent. I'm sure this isn't your idea of a dream job, but rest assured, if you had to pull foreign exchange with the Diplomatic Corps, there's precious few diplomats more capable than the one you've been assigned to. So keep up the good work, help me look good, and I'll do what I can to get you back in a cockpit."

    She gave him a brief, slight grin, seeming more magnanimous than typical for a bothan, then turned back to her seat.
    W.W.G.D. - What would Grimace do?

    What kind of dust?
    Dirt-laced dust. Probably originating from the ground.

  13. #148
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    Keliz busied herself in the cockpit, two datapads strewn atop the displays which, aside from a single monitor parsing astrometric data and ship functions, were all co-opted while she ground through everything the New Republic had managed to acquire on Grant, Rathalay, Grant's subordinates, their whereabouts, Grant's movements on the villa grounds, shipping manifests from the last six standard months...

    There was a lot of data, and Keliz wasn't looking for anything in particular, which was different from an actual investigation. She thumbed through the expense reports on Grant's villa -- caf, foodstuffs, entertainment -- and found nothing that struck her as unusual. But she double-checked the figures and then went back to cross-referencing shipments on and off planet and the confirmed and suspected whereabouts of Grant's subordinates and operatives. Keliz knew Grant was more tuned in that he had let on, and she wanted to be able to call his bluff.
    I awoke
    Only to find my lungs empty
    And through the night
    So it seems I'm not breathing
    And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be - Dallas Green (City and Colour), Sleeping Sickness

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    Garven blinked as Irys started babbling. He had never seen the diplomat, who was always so collected, unravel in such ways. He could only blink again when she offered to help him back into the Starfighter Corps. When she turned around, he took a minute to assemble his thoughts.

    "Er, Ambassador...Irys, I, uh...." He scratched the back of his neck. All of a sudden he felt uncomfortable, like he was standing in the desert on Tatooine, like on that training mission. There was as much heat from the twin suns as there was from his embarrassment.

    "Look, I want to say...thank you. I appreciate it, but..."

    Irys gave him an expectant stare. The heat intensified.

    "Let me put it this way. I don't want you going out of your way to get my job back, or putting your own career on the line for me. I screwed up. Plain and simple. It's my fault. I have to pay the price for that. But, thank you."

    He turned away and headed out of the lounge. "Oh," he added, "and it's not exactly the same in the Starfighter Corps. We don't get Republic Roast. It's Rim Brew. Which is essentially reactor fuel." He winked and walked out.
    Opinions are like armpits. Everyone has at least two, and they usually stink.

    Please, visit my blog. It's lonely. And while you're at it, leave a comment too.

  15. #150
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    "Let me put it this way. I don't want you going out of your way to get my job back, or putting your own career on the line for me. I screwed up. Plain and simple. It's my fault. I have to pay the price for that. But, thank you."

    He turned away and headed out of the lounge.
    Irys' fur flattened.

    Kas'lya, you should have known better, she mused, than to assume a military type would recognize an offer of above-board help when it flew into his sights.

    She also noted, with particular distaste, that her attempt at disarming Garven's suspicions went particularly poorly. Her somewhat halted speech, while not entirely manufactured, was a common method employed by diplomats upon the uninitiated to convey candour, but for military types, it seemed almost as if their utilitarian communications among themselves rendered them all simply incapable of believing that anyone would speak anything other than exactly what was on their mind. She'd had similar difficulties with many of Ackbar's people on Coruscant...it was like speaking with people that only understood a very different dialect of the same language, and while language was her medium, it was not her craft.

    Oh well, she thought to herself, returning to her research, if he performs well, I may yet put in a good word for him to some of uncle Borsk's contacts in the military, just to spite him.

    The thought made Irys smile slightly, as she opened yet another datafile...
    W.W.G.D. - What would Grimace do?

    What kind of dust?
    Dirt-laced dust. Probably originating from the ground.

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