10-08-2017, 09:04 AM
“So, they want us to haul out and ‘deal with’ any more ‘situations’?” Seventeen asked as the pair strapped themselves into the mobile transport.
The redhead stifled a smirk—the twitch in the right corner of her mouth was an easy tell. “As far as I know, we’re on standby.”
“That’s not leave.”
She nodded her head. “They were clear not to use that language in the official order reports they sent me. ‘Officially on standby, pending review of citywide troop deployments and incidents management.’ Which means that they can buzz as at any moment to pack up everything we own and haul our asses down to Tier 3 or something.”
Seventeen didn’t bother to stifle his own smirk. “Lovely.”
Trixie glanced at him from the corner of her eye before speaking again in more hushed tones. “I’m surprised they didn’t send us out the moment you woke up from that little nap of yours. You read the recent incident reports?”
“More prison riots. A felon on Tier 5. More wayward primes trying to have a go at the Empire?”
I mean, do you blame ‘em? Seventeen shrugged in response to his own question. They should just avoid this place. Morons.
The man’s newly minted Sergeant First Class caught his weird internal musings but didn’t raise any question about it. She’d already been acquainted with his quirky inclination to zone out from time to time, and it didn’t bother her. “The incident down on Five was ugly. Real ugly. Marine hit squads. They usually don’t deploy down on Five.”
“This was one of the same primes that was involved in that prison riot on Two, right?”
Once again, Trixie nodded her head as the transport jiggled around them. Even with shiny new medals and insignia, they were still relegated to an escort vessel on the verge of decommission. In her head, Trixie told herself that, if the Empire didn’t hold true to its promise to prioritize them for new equipment once they were established at their new BOO, she was going to flay someone. “Yea. I don’t know why you’d come back, but it looks like she did. Empire was quick to make an example.”
Again, Seventeen wasn’t quite sure why the fuck someone would willing return to Coruscant of their own free will. Death wish? Had he been killed instead of left in a comatose state, he would have been gone from this place, Trixie or no Trixie alongside him. “Banished, right? They banished this person?”
The Sergeant First Class bobbed her head up and down before pointing with a hand to the metal floor of the craft. “Down south, where they belonged for opposing the Empire.” After that remark, Trixie leaned close enough that she could whisper into her companion’s ear. “I pity that poor idiot.”
He wanted to smile, but Seventeen didn’t know how that exchange might appear if anyone decided to review the surveillance feed from this transport. The two of them were certainly in the ‘good’ bin in the Imperial hierarchy, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find themselves in the doghouse in the blink of an eye. The cyborg was certain that the Empire probably had a dozen or so other ‘up and coming’ soldiers that they could use to replace the two of them.
“So, you mentioned they’re giving us a space ship? Is there even space here?”
Sergeant First Class Zulenka did smirk at that remark. “No space. I read the reports, and it’s incapable of flight, as far as I know. Even if it could, there would be nowhere for it to go and even less space for it to navigate among the cityscape.”
“You just have a soft spot for ships or something?”
Trixie suppressed the urge to punch the skinny man in his shoulder. “In my world, space is the battle field tactician’s tabula rasa. Out there in the dark nothing is where the heroes and villains were born. In space, no one can you scream, but in space, you don’t need to hear to appreciate the beauty. Crisscrossing turbolaster bursts. The silent, deadly march of photon torpedoes. The distinct scent of Thorilide in the bays of your ship after hours of battle. Or the sight of an enemy ship buckling as its shields failed and its hull broke apart. A simple flash most times… a simple flash and the deaths of millions. I saw an orbital station fail and take a torpedo to its reactor core, and that was the greatest fireworks display I have ever seen in my existence.”
Seventeen, who had seen his fair share of space battles, simply nodded along with the woman’s story. He had some fond memories of the Nirvana, but that was the greatest extent of his forays into captaining in space. “This is mostly a status thing, then? Part of some quid pro quo between you and the people higher up on the food chain?”
His senior noncom nodded her head. “I was told that the vessel needs some repairs, but if we can get it up and running, we’ll be able a very relaxing life while on standby. Venators have amenities like medical bays, callback stations, and enough living space to house a nice complement of stormtroopers. We may be able to get the permits to use the teleporters to deploy that way throughout Coruscant.”
Teleporters? The machine-hybrid made a mental note. Even if they were programmed to only a certain range, he was certain that teleporters were machines that could be… convinced to operate outside their factory settings.
“How long do you think they give us before they ship us off somewhere?” Seventeen asked as the transport came to a stop. A moment later, the droning of its engines died down to a steady hum.
“Not long,” Trixie whispered as the background noise faded. “Whenever that comes, I know we’ll all be ready, so let’s not fret over details.” She spoke with a little too much extra volume.
It was Seventeen’s turn to stifle a smirk as he unbuckled his harness and followed his noncom out of the transport and back into the city proper. He hadn’t bothered to use any of his systems to track their journey, but he knew how fast the transports traveled. They were probably a few dozen miles from the center of the city, and a quick glimpse revealed the glimmering downtown skyline. From this distance, the heart of Tier One looked like something out a celestial dream.
If only Coruscant wasn’t a living nightmare…
Seventeen scowled and turned to look at the ‘parked’ vessel that would serve as their headquarters for the foreseeable future. Despite being permanently dry docked by nature of the Omniverse, the Venator was still pretty impressive. Flanked by what seemed to be office buildings, the vessel stood out by nature of what appeared to be a fresh paintjob and even a small degree of shine in some of its more chrome-heavy regions. He couldn’t see to the end of it, but he spotted what appeared to be a command bridge poking up into the skyline. If the command bridge was the end of the ship, then the vessel-turned-base was in the nature of six city blocks. Since the nose was about two blocks wide, Seventeen imagined that it could house far more soldiers than Trixie had at her disposal, even given her recent promotion.
“PepsiCola,” Trixie muttered as she pointed to one of the office buildings that hugged the Venator. “You have to wonder what the point of it was if they were just going to have her as some glorified landmark.”
“I mean,” Seventeen muttered as he pointed to the cone of the ship that hung in the air fifty meters overhead. “If those cannons could be brought online.” Trixie glanced up and nodded at the presence of the point-defense turrets. They were the Venator’s anti-air cannons, but she understood her ally’s remarks nevertheless. “Essentially, the Empire built a fancy-looking nuclear device in this nice ‘suburban’ neighborhood. Not only is it a magnificent example of what the Empire can build, but it’s also a magnificent example of what the Empire can do to you if you start making silly decisions.”
“I suppose this means we can also get PepsiCola at distributor costs…”
Seventeen tried, but he couldn’t hold in the laugh. When he started to laugh, Trixie’s expression cracked and then she joined him.
The redhead stifled a smirk—the twitch in the right corner of her mouth was an easy tell. “As far as I know, we’re on standby.”
“That’s not leave.”
She nodded her head. “They were clear not to use that language in the official order reports they sent me. ‘Officially on standby, pending review of citywide troop deployments and incidents management.’ Which means that they can buzz as at any moment to pack up everything we own and haul our asses down to Tier 3 or something.”
Seventeen didn’t bother to stifle his own smirk. “Lovely.”
Trixie glanced at him from the corner of her eye before speaking again in more hushed tones. “I’m surprised they didn’t send us out the moment you woke up from that little nap of yours. You read the recent incident reports?”
“More prison riots. A felon on Tier 5. More wayward primes trying to have a go at the Empire?”
I mean, do you blame ‘em? Seventeen shrugged in response to his own question. They should just avoid this place. Morons.
The man’s newly minted Sergeant First Class caught his weird internal musings but didn’t raise any question about it. She’d already been acquainted with his quirky inclination to zone out from time to time, and it didn’t bother her. “The incident down on Five was ugly. Real ugly. Marine hit squads. They usually don’t deploy down on Five.”
“This was one of the same primes that was involved in that prison riot on Two, right?”
Once again, Trixie nodded her head as the transport jiggled around them. Even with shiny new medals and insignia, they were still relegated to an escort vessel on the verge of decommission. In her head, Trixie told herself that, if the Empire didn’t hold true to its promise to prioritize them for new equipment once they were established at their new BOO, she was going to flay someone. “Yea. I don’t know why you’d come back, but it looks like she did. Empire was quick to make an example.”
Again, Seventeen wasn’t quite sure why the fuck someone would willing return to Coruscant of their own free will. Death wish? Had he been killed instead of left in a comatose state, he would have been gone from this place, Trixie or no Trixie alongside him. “Banished, right? They banished this person?”
The Sergeant First Class bobbed her head up and down before pointing with a hand to the metal floor of the craft. “Down south, where they belonged for opposing the Empire.” After that remark, Trixie leaned close enough that she could whisper into her companion’s ear. “I pity that poor idiot.”
He wanted to smile, but Seventeen didn’t know how that exchange might appear if anyone decided to review the surveillance feed from this transport. The two of them were certainly in the ‘good’ bin in the Imperial hierarchy, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find themselves in the doghouse in the blink of an eye. The cyborg was certain that the Empire probably had a dozen or so other ‘up and coming’ soldiers that they could use to replace the two of them.
“So, you mentioned they’re giving us a space ship? Is there even space here?”
Sergeant First Class Zulenka did smirk at that remark. “No space. I read the reports, and it’s incapable of flight, as far as I know. Even if it could, there would be nowhere for it to go and even less space for it to navigate among the cityscape.”
“You just have a soft spot for ships or something?”
Trixie suppressed the urge to punch the skinny man in his shoulder. “In my world, space is the battle field tactician’s tabula rasa. Out there in the dark nothing is where the heroes and villains were born. In space, no one can you scream, but in space, you don’t need to hear to appreciate the beauty. Crisscrossing turbolaster bursts. The silent, deadly march of photon torpedoes. The distinct scent of Thorilide in the bays of your ship after hours of battle. Or the sight of an enemy ship buckling as its shields failed and its hull broke apart. A simple flash most times… a simple flash and the deaths of millions. I saw an orbital station fail and take a torpedo to its reactor core, and that was the greatest fireworks display I have ever seen in my existence.”
Seventeen, who had seen his fair share of space battles, simply nodded along with the woman’s story. He had some fond memories of the Nirvana, but that was the greatest extent of his forays into captaining in space. “This is mostly a status thing, then? Part of some quid pro quo between you and the people higher up on the food chain?”
His senior noncom nodded her head. “I was told that the vessel needs some repairs, but if we can get it up and running, we’ll be able a very relaxing life while on standby. Venators have amenities like medical bays, callback stations, and enough living space to house a nice complement of stormtroopers. We may be able to get the permits to use the teleporters to deploy that way throughout Coruscant.”
Teleporters? The machine-hybrid made a mental note. Even if they were programmed to only a certain range, he was certain that teleporters were machines that could be… convinced to operate outside their factory settings.
“How long do you think they give us before they ship us off somewhere?” Seventeen asked as the transport came to a stop. A moment later, the droning of its engines died down to a steady hum.
“Not long,” Trixie whispered as the background noise faded. “Whenever that comes, I know we’ll all be ready, so let’s not fret over details.” She spoke with a little too much extra volume.
It was Seventeen’s turn to stifle a smirk as he unbuckled his harness and followed his noncom out of the transport and back into the city proper. He hadn’t bothered to use any of his systems to track their journey, but he knew how fast the transports traveled. They were probably a few dozen miles from the center of the city, and a quick glimpse revealed the glimmering downtown skyline. From this distance, the heart of Tier One looked like something out a celestial dream.
If only Coruscant wasn’t a living nightmare…
Seventeen scowled and turned to look at the ‘parked’ vessel that would serve as their headquarters for the foreseeable future. Despite being permanently dry docked by nature of the Omniverse, the Venator was still pretty impressive. Flanked by what seemed to be office buildings, the vessel stood out by nature of what appeared to be a fresh paintjob and even a small degree of shine in some of its more chrome-heavy regions. He couldn’t see to the end of it, but he spotted what appeared to be a command bridge poking up into the skyline. If the command bridge was the end of the ship, then the vessel-turned-base was in the nature of six city blocks. Since the nose was about two blocks wide, Seventeen imagined that it could house far more soldiers than Trixie had at her disposal, even given her recent promotion.
“PepsiCola,” Trixie muttered as she pointed to one of the office buildings that hugged the Venator. “You have to wonder what the point of it was if they were just going to have her as some glorified landmark.”
“I mean,” Seventeen muttered as he pointed to the cone of the ship that hung in the air fifty meters overhead. “If those cannons could be brought online.” Trixie glanced up and nodded at the presence of the point-defense turrets. They were the Venator’s anti-air cannons, but she understood her ally’s remarks nevertheless. “Essentially, the Empire built a fancy-looking nuclear device in this nice ‘suburban’ neighborhood. Not only is it a magnificent example of what the Empire can build, but it’s also a magnificent example of what the Empire can do to you if you start making silly decisions.”
“I suppose this means we can also get PepsiCola at distributor costs…”
Seventeen tried, but he couldn’t hold in the laugh. When he started to laugh, Trixie’s expression cracked and then she joined him.