Post by Samael on Jul 13, 2012 12:15:10 GMT -5
-Demetrios Gavril-
2 Days Earlier, Mygeeto:
In the early morning hours, the still silence of a hall was broken only by the click-click of boots on Ithorian marble. As stiff as durasteel, his face like the marble he walked upon, the Imperial Officer's boots were polished brightly. Truly, his entire uniform and appearance seemed impeccable. Click-click went his boots. The icy chill of Mygeeto seemed mirrored in his frosty eyes. They were the penetrating augers of a commander, used to being obeyed. One who saw everything through a lens of analytical reasoning and calculations. He reached the end of the hall and activated a door, which moved aside with a hiss and closed behind him with a siss and a clunk as it locked.
The Imperial Officer's eyes traversed the room in a methodical sweep, examining the office space before him. Little trinkets sat on a desk. Various holos decorated the walls. Only the expensive wood of the desk betrayed the owner's pleasure in costly things.
"Ah, Rear Admiral Gavril, I trust the trip was uneventful?" came a pleasant voice to the left of the Imperial Officer.
Gavril's light-blue eyes crossed the room again, settling on the speaker. A man older than Gavril, but not by much. Stylish streaks of grey crossed the man's dark hair at the ears, indicating age, but a sense of refinement. A brilliant flash of white teeth, eyes dark as chestnut. Flair for the dramatic. Brigadier General's rank plaque on the chest, numerous medals beneath. Proud of achievements, anxious to let all know of them. Assessment: extraverted sycophant. The ice-laden wells of Gavril's eyes met the General's own. He found an unexpected hardness in those dark eyes. Like a tree, yielding only to the winds. Reassessment: facading bastard.
"Completely so," replied Gavril, his tone bored. He seated himself in a chair at the desk. "Now I've arrived I trust we can begin without any of the formalities. The ships are completed." It was not a question.
The General's eyes became a bit harder. His smile a bit tighter. Garrison commanders and naval commanders often came to odds, but usually after formalities were done with. But this Demetrios Gavril did not even bother with a show of formality, going straight for the jugular.
"Yes, the new ships are just now coming from Muunilinst. Fresh out of the factory. Your designs are... interesting."
"I am sure the Republic will find them interesting enough when they are put to use."
"You find our current ships boring? Is that what happened in Phindar?"
Demetrios ground his teeth, his eyes became shards of ice, wickedly sharp and staring with dangerous intensity, as if an avalanche waited behind the glacier. "Many things happened at Phindar," replied Gavril coldly.
Phindar, a loss he couldn't afford. Not that he had lost the planet. Nothing so damaging as that. The convoy he had been escorting fell under ambush. Overwhelming ambush. The ships under his command were ill suited for the task of defending a convoy in the first place. Gunboats were to blame. Gunboats and starfighters. The Empire seemed to focus its research efforts upon dreadnoughts and other enormous ships of war. Foolish. Anyone could build dreadnoughts, but without supply convoys any expansion was doomed to fail. He was forced to retreat from the convoy, or be destroyed. His failure was... a constant irritant, grating upon his mind. So, he had taken steps to ensure it would never happen again.
With the help of a dozen researchers, Demetrios went through old files until he found designs that were dropped due to lack of proper attention. Now, they had attention. A few adjustments of his own were put in and prototypes were developed. Now, finally, the first few preliminary results of his work were released. The Likos-class Destroyer and the Anemoi-class Modular Frigate. He could feel the anger inside him, a pit of frozen wrath. The pirates would be the first to taste vengeance.
The Brigadier General dragged him back with another jab. "Well, I suppose you would know best."
Demetrios gave him a flat look and opened his mouth to reply, when the door swished open again. An Admiral strode in. Not just "an" Admiral, "the" Admiral. Tall and muscular, Admiral Arkk cast a shadow on the room. He took one look at the faces on the two officers before him and gave a chuckle that came from deep within his gut.
"Getting acquainted are we?"
"So it seems," said the General. Demetrios' mouth thinned.
"Ha! Worse than rival strian vipers, the pair of you." Arkk's voice rumbled in the room, crushing previous tension about as loudly as a krayt dragon splintering stone.
"Admiral, now that you are also here we can discuss-"began the Brigadier General.
"Discuss? Pah! There's nothing to discuss. Gavril, you are commissioned with three Likos-class Destroyers and seven anemoi-class frigates. Provisionary basis, of course. Can't have you running around after that convoy incident by Phindar, now can we?" The look of displeasure on Gavril's face made Arkk guffaw even louder, clapping the Rear Admiral on the back, which set Demetrios' teeth grinding again. "General Stanzin, give him his damn troop supplement."
"That has yet to be-"
"No. Discussion," growled Arkk, his voice taking on a tone of unyielding iron and his eyes like dark orbs of controlled irritation.
"Very well," sighed Stanzin.
"Now... let's talk about killing some pirates."
Present Time - Vjun's Orbit
Demetrios Gavril looked out from the bridge of the Hyperborean at the Task Force he had been granted to deal with the pirate elements plaguing the convoys. Due to the separation of territory from Vjun and the rest of the Sith Empire, pirates found it quite a bit easier to prey on convoys in between the sections of Empire controlled space. Now, it was Demetrios' job to ensure these convoys arrived safely. Not something to be taken lightly. The blasted nobility of Vjun were the only reason the acidic rock of a world was even important.
"Damn the pirates and damn the nobility," Demetrios muttered to himself. Despite being an aristocrat himself, Gavril had no love for the idiotic ways of high class society. All their social scheming could burn through months of hard work. It seemed no matter where in the galaxy he went he could not escape the clutches of men with fat purses. Stars! He could not abide such schemers.
"Sir?" asked a startled voice.
Gavril cast a cold, wordless glance at his Executive Officer. Mordred was a grizzled veteran of combat, and an old friend of Gavril's. He had been part of Demetrios' entourage when they fled Tapani. Mordred was straightforward and honest, the sort Gavril preferred dealing with.
"You know that the only reason we have to guard convoys to this acid-ridden slag is because of the princes who couldn't stand to do without their shimmorian silk?" Gavril's voice was like grinding ice upon a wintery sea.
"True, sir."
"They are no better than the damned Tapani Noble Houses." Gavril's eyes were like twin chips of ice as he recalled the day's unpleasant dealings with such nobles, all complaining about their long overdue shipments of spices and silks and other foolish frippery. He'd expected to be put in a place of importance. When the other Admirals had learned of his assignment they had met his look with knowing expressions. He had wondered what those expressions meant. Now he understood, they'd hung him out in space where no one else wanted to be. A chance of action, true, but with a dozen different voices trying to tell you where to go and who to fight. They didn't know the first end of a frigate, from aft to bow. Thrice blasted nobility.
"At least they are not trying to oust you, sir," said Mordred, slowly and diplomatically.
"Not yet, but give them a chance and they'd have one of their lackeys in here. Someone who they could order about."
Mordred nodded, "Perhaps once the pirates are dealt with they will be pleased?"
Demetrios mouth thinned. "No, Mordred, they are like wives. Give them a diamond and they will want a moon."
The XO nodded again and fell silent. Clearly, Demetrios' mind still ran cold with thoughts of his wife. The two had not been close for a long time. Best not for Mordred to mention it.
Alarms suddenly began pinging in the bridge. A tactical officer glanced at the display before calling back over his shoulder. "A convoy is under attack near the Juvn route, Empire Space."
Demetrios' eyes narrowed. It was not often that pirates ventured into space so near Vjun. They were getting bolder. That or it was a trap. And the only thing to do with traps was to spring them.
"You know... they say there is a new pirate group calling itself Spearhead, or something similarly mundane. Do you know how to defeat a spear, Mordred?"
"Can't say I've studied such combat, milord. A sword?" replied Mordred, lapsing into Gavril's old title and earning a frosty look from his commander.
"No. You use a bow. Come, let's go put some arrows into these pirates. Helm, head about and to the distress signal." Gavril's arms rested easily as he settled stiffly into his command chair. The nobles might not be able to feel his anger, but pirates... pirates would learn to cower at his name.
2 Days Earlier, Mygeeto:
In the early morning hours, the still silence of a hall was broken only by the click-click of boots on Ithorian marble. As stiff as durasteel, his face like the marble he walked upon, the Imperial Officer's boots were polished brightly. Truly, his entire uniform and appearance seemed impeccable. Click-click went his boots. The icy chill of Mygeeto seemed mirrored in his frosty eyes. They were the penetrating augers of a commander, used to being obeyed. One who saw everything through a lens of analytical reasoning and calculations. He reached the end of the hall and activated a door, which moved aside with a hiss and closed behind him with a siss and a clunk as it locked.
The Imperial Officer's eyes traversed the room in a methodical sweep, examining the office space before him. Little trinkets sat on a desk. Various holos decorated the walls. Only the expensive wood of the desk betrayed the owner's pleasure in costly things.
"Ah, Rear Admiral Gavril, I trust the trip was uneventful?" came a pleasant voice to the left of the Imperial Officer.
Gavril's light-blue eyes crossed the room again, settling on the speaker. A man older than Gavril, but not by much. Stylish streaks of grey crossed the man's dark hair at the ears, indicating age, but a sense of refinement. A brilliant flash of white teeth, eyes dark as chestnut. Flair for the dramatic. Brigadier General's rank plaque on the chest, numerous medals beneath. Proud of achievements, anxious to let all know of them. Assessment: extraverted sycophant. The ice-laden wells of Gavril's eyes met the General's own. He found an unexpected hardness in those dark eyes. Like a tree, yielding only to the winds. Reassessment: facading bastard.
"Completely so," replied Gavril, his tone bored. He seated himself in a chair at the desk. "Now I've arrived I trust we can begin without any of the formalities. The ships are completed." It was not a question.
The General's eyes became a bit harder. His smile a bit tighter. Garrison commanders and naval commanders often came to odds, but usually after formalities were done with. But this Demetrios Gavril did not even bother with a show of formality, going straight for the jugular.
"Yes, the new ships are just now coming from Muunilinst. Fresh out of the factory. Your designs are... interesting."
"I am sure the Republic will find them interesting enough when they are put to use."
"You find our current ships boring? Is that what happened in Phindar?"
Demetrios ground his teeth, his eyes became shards of ice, wickedly sharp and staring with dangerous intensity, as if an avalanche waited behind the glacier. "Many things happened at Phindar," replied Gavril coldly.
Phindar, a loss he couldn't afford. Not that he had lost the planet. Nothing so damaging as that. The convoy he had been escorting fell under ambush. Overwhelming ambush. The ships under his command were ill suited for the task of defending a convoy in the first place. Gunboats were to blame. Gunboats and starfighters. The Empire seemed to focus its research efforts upon dreadnoughts and other enormous ships of war. Foolish. Anyone could build dreadnoughts, but without supply convoys any expansion was doomed to fail. He was forced to retreat from the convoy, or be destroyed. His failure was... a constant irritant, grating upon his mind. So, he had taken steps to ensure it would never happen again.
With the help of a dozen researchers, Demetrios went through old files until he found designs that were dropped due to lack of proper attention. Now, they had attention. A few adjustments of his own were put in and prototypes were developed. Now, finally, the first few preliminary results of his work were released. The Likos-class Destroyer and the Anemoi-class Modular Frigate. He could feel the anger inside him, a pit of frozen wrath. The pirates would be the first to taste vengeance.
The Brigadier General dragged him back with another jab. "Well, I suppose you would know best."
Demetrios gave him a flat look and opened his mouth to reply, when the door swished open again. An Admiral strode in. Not just "an" Admiral, "the" Admiral. Tall and muscular, Admiral Arkk cast a shadow on the room. He took one look at the faces on the two officers before him and gave a chuckle that came from deep within his gut.
"Getting acquainted are we?"
"So it seems," said the General. Demetrios' mouth thinned.
"Ha! Worse than rival strian vipers, the pair of you." Arkk's voice rumbled in the room, crushing previous tension about as loudly as a krayt dragon splintering stone.
"Admiral, now that you are also here we can discuss-"began the Brigadier General.
"Discuss? Pah! There's nothing to discuss. Gavril, you are commissioned with three Likos-class Destroyers and seven anemoi-class frigates. Provisionary basis, of course. Can't have you running around after that convoy incident by Phindar, now can we?" The look of displeasure on Gavril's face made Arkk guffaw even louder, clapping the Rear Admiral on the back, which set Demetrios' teeth grinding again. "General Stanzin, give him his damn troop supplement."
"That has yet to be-"
"No. Discussion," growled Arkk, his voice taking on a tone of unyielding iron and his eyes like dark orbs of controlled irritation.
"Very well," sighed Stanzin.
"Now... let's talk about killing some pirates."
Present Time - Vjun's Orbit
Demetrios Gavril looked out from the bridge of the Hyperborean at the Task Force he had been granted to deal with the pirate elements plaguing the convoys. Due to the separation of territory from Vjun and the rest of the Sith Empire, pirates found it quite a bit easier to prey on convoys in between the sections of Empire controlled space. Now, it was Demetrios' job to ensure these convoys arrived safely. Not something to be taken lightly. The blasted nobility of Vjun were the only reason the acidic rock of a world was even important.
"Damn the pirates and damn the nobility," Demetrios muttered to himself. Despite being an aristocrat himself, Gavril had no love for the idiotic ways of high class society. All their social scheming could burn through months of hard work. It seemed no matter where in the galaxy he went he could not escape the clutches of men with fat purses. Stars! He could not abide such schemers.
"Sir?" asked a startled voice.
Gavril cast a cold, wordless glance at his Executive Officer. Mordred was a grizzled veteran of combat, and an old friend of Gavril's. He had been part of Demetrios' entourage when they fled Tapani. Mordred was straightforward and honest, the sort Gavril preferred dealing with.
"You know that the only reason we have to guard convoys to this acid-ridden slag is because of the princes who couldn't stand to do without their shimmorian silk?" Gavril's voice was like grinding ice upon a wintery sea.
"True, sir."
"They are no better than the damned Tapani Noble Houses." Gavril's eyes were like twin chips of ice as he recalled the day's unpleasant dealings with such nobles, all complaining about their long overdue shipments of spices and silks and other foolish frippery. He'd expected to be put in a place of importance. When the other Admirals had learned of his assignment they had met his look with knowing expressions. He had wondered what those expressions meant. Now he understood, they'd hung him out in space where no one else wanted to be. A chance of action, true, but with a dozen different voices trying to tell you where to go and who to fight. They didn't know the first end of a frigate, from aft to bow. Thrice blasted nobility.
"At least they are not trying to oust you, sir," said Mordred, slowly and diplomatically.
"Not yet, but give them a chance and they'd have one of their lackeys in here. Someone who they could order about."
Mordred nodded, "Perhaps once the pirates are dealt with they will be pleased?"
Demetrios mouth thinned. "No, Mordred, they are like wives. Give them a diamond and they will want a moon."
The XO nodded again and fell silent. Clearly, Demetrios' mind still ran cold with thoughts of his wife. The two had not been close for a long time. Best not for Mordred to mention it.
Alarms suddenly began pinging in the bridge. A tactical officer glanced at the display before calling back over his shoulder. "A convoy is under attack near the Juvn route, Empire Space."
Demetrios' eyes narrowed. It was not often that pirates ventured into space so near Vjun. They were getting bolder. That or it was a trap. And the only thing to do with traps was to spring them.
"You know... they say there is a new pirate group calling itself Spearhead, or something similarly mundane. Do you know how to defeat a spear, Mordred?"
"Can't say I've studied such combat, milord. A sword?" replied Mordred, lapsing into Gavril's old title and earning a frosty look from his commander.
"No. You use a bow. Come, let's go put some arrows into these pirates. Helm, head about and to the distress signal." Gavril's arms rested easily as he settled stiffly into his command chair. The nobles might not be able to feel his anger, but pirates... pirates would learn to cower at his name.