[First Order]: Firepoint Alpha

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Nodding again his affirmation to [member="Asharad Graush"], Roderik responded.

"Before the end of the month," He repeated thoughtfully, "Excellent, that should allow me enough time to select and acquire the proper squadrons. Outfit them, too."

His attention turned back to the previous query of the High Colonel. A matter of starfighter specifications.

"Two spring to mind. We have an updated interceptor model nearing the end of its testing phase. Fast in both sub-light, and hyperspace. I presume quick transit time through hyperspace will be essential. The second model is similar in concept but applied to an anti-capital ship role. Consider it a fast attack TIE bomber."

They would both suit the needs quite well, the major was quite sure of it as he tracked the other command officer back to the front of the ship. Another report on the Naval officer, [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]. The Captain had a flair for the unprofessional that would put even [member="Pierce Fortan III"] to shame, but like the starfighter corps captain, Roderik could not argue with the success of the Naval officer in Carly Rausgeber.

But he could still grimace through the comm channel discipline breakdown - a personal pet peeve of the major, as Pierce could attest to as well.

"You would do well to consider that the Supreme Leader himself could be listening to the comm frequency, Captain." He allowed himself to interject, almost unconsciously. It was the same canned response he gave to all his pilots as they spoke out of turn over the comm.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Apparently he was insulted.

A shame [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] hadn't realized it was an open channel in time, for everyone on board the Wolf's Maw's bridge had heard the words. Was it plausible to assume that a report was already being filed? Perhaps, perhaps not, but where on the inside he planned a million different scenarios which all ended with the Captain's corpse at his feet, his exterior was merely an amused smirk, as if looking down upon a lackwit child at play.

A shake of his head in disbelief that something such as that could've transpired, and a thin line that cracked, ever so slightly into a smirk.

Before he could actually speak however, [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] had taken the honour upon itself. No matter. Of course, he had a leveller head than the Sith Hybrid.

"You'd do well to rest, Captain. Long terms without sleep isn't... Healthy," he said, strangely warm. Now that courtesies were out of the way, he said, "Coordinates are being transmitted. On the edge of the Ryoone System." There was a pause to allow the Captain's crew to plot the hyperspace jump and to also transmit the coordinates to the rest of his taskforce. After a reasonable about of time, the Sith High Colonel cleared his throat and continued.

"Prepared to jump, Sir," someone said off to his right.

"I hope your ship is capable of making the jump Captain. Too many malfunctioning systems. "

Simultaneously, he nodded his head to the man that had spoken moments before him, and the comm channel just went dead as the Wolf's Maw disappeared into hyperspace.

"Have the Data Logs sent to my personal computer," he ordered one of the ensigns before he turned back to the Major. "We'll be arriving at Ryoone soon."

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

"Smug kark." Carlyle growled to his crew, "The man is going to ruin my career," he added, "Prep the jump to light speed, I'm getting a scotch."

"Aye aye captain." The Helmsman replied.

"Get the other ships to follow our lead." He added, "I want us all to arrive in unison."

"Understood sir." Comms replied.

"Good, good, good." Carlyle said, walking back towards his office. It was located down a hallway to the rear of the bridges superstructure. He opened the door, and collapsed in his armchair, "What the hell am I going to do now?" he asked himself, opening one of the draws, and pulling out a bottle of alcohol. Right next to it was his service pistol. Carlyle never wore it, but kept it as a momento. He looked at the pistol, it did look to be the most, well, enticing option to rid himself of this embarrassment.

[member="Asharad Graush"][member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"]

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Roderik allowed a small grin to slip through his otherwise professional demeanor at High Colonel [member="Asharad Graush"]'s prodding of the Naval captain. The Colonel was needle sharp, which the starfighter major could appreciate - to a degree. Too much wit could be just as destructive to military discipline and morale as too little - and too little caused hardship in battle. Roderik hoped [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]'s reputation would prove this first impression unwarranted. Everyone can get one bad comm day, as it were.

"I didn't realize the navy employed idiot savants." He said, leaning in to speak quietly enough to the Colonel as to not be overheard by the sensitive communications equipment.

Dropping his grin the major put up his firm, professional exterior once more. He awaited their upcoming arrival to the Roone system patiently, nodding his affirmative at the Army Colonel's insistence they would be arriving shortly.

In his mind, he was still replaying configuration after configuration of hangar bay. Where he foresaw TIE Defenders docked row by row, ready to deploy at a moments notice to anywhere in the First Order's vast territory of space.

 

[Asharad Graush]

A'sharad was good at prodding people. It's what he did. Normally he'd rather say it straight up, no dancing around the bushes, but when you could deliver a debilitating sort of humour publicly, people tended to remember that about you. At the end of a conversation you'll be feeling like a fool. It was what he had always tried to do with his Father, a Lord of the Sith. Naturally, it didn't pan out. Usually it ended with him being struct with lightning that had him being thrown across the room. His form suddenly appeared to strain against the uniform he bore before he reigned in those emotions.

That won't be happening anymore.

He exhaled as he nodded once, all professional like at the words of the Major.

Once they were in hyperspace however, the Sith High Colonel said, "Rumour has it he yelled at the Grand Moff during an inspection, or rather, the then Moff." He said crisply. "I do believe he thinks himself untouchable for whatever reason." And then he looked down on the Major. Only a few inches taller, but it was noticeable. "Have you yet suffered such insubordination, Major Brinkerhoff?"

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

"Sir, what are you doing?!" The ensign called, dropping the datapad from his hand. The pad shattered and Carlyle opened his eyes, before spitting out the barrel of the pistol.

"Nothing ensign." The captain replied quickly, wiping a glob of saliva and burying it beneath a fold of his uniform and wiping it clean.

"We-were you going to-"

"I was polishing it." The captain replied crisply "Now, why are you-"

Pow!

The blaster pistol went off in the captains hand, blowing a hole straight through his shirt, and hand.

"Sonuva-!!" He screamed, falling off his chair, the ensign ran to his position and knelt above him.
"Sir, are you ok?" He asked, examining the blooded hand.

"No, get Margs, tell him what you needed to me!" He snarled, picking himself up, and tentatively examining his hand.

"You need a med-"

"Go!" He roared, "And not a word to anyone!"

"Yes sir!" The ensign replied, running from the room, and to the bridge.

"What did the captain say?" The helmsman asked, they'd arrived at their destination.

"Tell Margs, ask what he'll do, the captains indisposed."

[member="Asharad Graush"][member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"]

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Roderik considered the question before answering. He had his fair share of problem children, as did any military commander. But the starfighter pilot was, at least to the Major, a breed apart. Valiant knights, but of an independent and rebellious nature. To take to battle in the vast emptiness of space, alone but for disembodied and distorted voices over a comm-link required a different mindset and almost demanded an inflated sense of self-worth, and ego behind the control yoke of a TIE Fighter. Thoughts of invulnerability by way of superior talent and skill was another layer of defense for the pilot.

It was an entirely different game than the one performed equally valiantly by the men and women who made up the stormtroopers of the White Wolves -- they could glean strength and resolve from the bodies to the left and right of their own. No such luxury was afforded the solo pilot.

"Nothing to the caliber of the good Captain." He responded to the High Colonel, [member="Asharad Graush"]. [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] was undoubtedly a talented naval officer, adept at his profession. Such conduct would have equally undoubtedly earned a summary execution, were it not somehow excusable.

"You don't take me as the sort to allow any such foolishness, Colonel." Roderik commented, pondering for a moment on whether or not the Colonel was the judge or the executioner when it came to under-performance in the White Wolves. Perhaps both.

 

[Asharad Graush]

The High Colonel listened carefully.

So he didn't suffer such disrespect from those of lesser rank. Perhaps he had joined the wrong division, yet, he figured the Navy was hardly any better if the likes of [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] were ascended to the level of Captain. In the One Sith, he likely would've had his own taskforce at this point in time, his Father had had one, if he recalled correctly. Combated and routed several Republic and Omega Protectorate forces in skirmishes.

Bloody skirmishes too.

"We are Imperials," he said as if that answered all of it. It should've. What Imperial nation accepted foolishness in their ranks? Arrogance had been their downfalls, not lack wit Officers, at least, not to the extent of the other Captain, and if it had been, they were met with a swift execution and their names wiped from the history books. "There is no time to afford stupidity in an elite unit, but I don't need to explain the merits of discipline to you, do I?" At the question, his golden orbs brightened slightly, but not in an elated way. More along the lines of, 'if you answer foolishly you'll be wanting to kill yourself before I get my hands on you.'

"We're coming out of hyperspace, Sir," one of the bridge officers said.

There was a confirming nod from A'sharad.

It was standard procedure to give warning at ten seconds. In those ten seconds, the Sith turned back to face the front of the ship, and thus the viewport.

"Tell me, Major, why the Starfighter Corps?"

And then they were pulled out of hyperspace, reverting to realspace in an instant, alone. In a moment, the Captains trio of ships were expected to be arriving.

[member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"]

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Nearly responding to the most assuredly rhetorical question on the merits of discipline within an elite unit, Roderik was instead cut off by a short and concise warning by the bridge officer. Economy of verbal action, some might call it. The major could appreciate the notion of brevity.

In the time between warning utterance and reversion from hyperspace to realspace, Roderik was presented with a new question. A question to which Roderik immediately knew the answer.

"To some people flying is a second nature, beyond just a profession or a duty. It's in a persons soul, if you believe in anything of the sort." He paused, allowing a smile to flash through to the High Colonel.

"I'd count myself among those few. I simply can't fathom doing anything other than this." He didn't think he needed to specify flying as combat flying, to which any self-respecting fighter pilot would say was the truest form of piloting that existed. The truest test of skill, at least.

Roderik remained guarded, not wanting to slip into the typical prideful arrogance that he knew starfighter pilots were renowned for, to which he was afflicted as well. Though, in Roderik's defense - while others boasted of their claims to excellence while drinking pint after pint of the First Order's finest ale, Roderik abstained. While others went to the holo-cinemas, Roderik formulated new ideas and refined tactical theorems. An excellent social life this did not make, though it allowed an exemplary officer to flourish in return -- and a dangerous and cunning adversary to his enemies.

"It takes a special sort to fly a TIE Fighter, Colonel. Although I suppose every branch says the same, do they not?" Luckily - or not, depending on your perspective - the Starfighter Corps pilots had an exceedingly short life expectancy, which meant problem children often took care of themselves naturally, hopefully with minimal collateral damage to their squadrons. Starfighter piloting was a literal game of survival of the fittest.

[member="Asharad Graush"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle limped through the bridge, his hand in his pocket. He'd just poured a bottle of Corellian whiskey in the gaping wound with a splash of bacta. The concoction stung like hell, but he didn't care. The near suicidal experience he'd had cleared up his thoughts. In the three minutes he'd spend scrambling for something to stop the bleeding let him think. While haemorraging blood like a gutted fish, Carlyle realized the solution to all his problems wasn't suicide. No, no, it was being smarter. The captain for the first time in many years had a clear conscience . Despite the fact the pocket of his uniform was bloodied, he waltzed on the bridge with bravado. Margs was first to notice him, "Sir, what happened?"

"Shush!" Carlyle commanded, "Comms, I want a line to the Colonel."

"Will do sir," Comms said, "We have a voice line live sir."

The ship jolted out of lightspeed, followed by its bretheren. Carlyle wasted no time. "Colonel, we await your further instructions."

[member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] n[member="Asharad Graush"]

 

[Asharad Graush]

The Sith High Colonel nodded once, crisply to the Major's words. He was going to refrain from mentioning that he had his own pilot outside of the First Order for his Daisya Infiltrator. He knew technology, his Father would have it no other way, but he had never had a reason to actually get behind the controls when there had been others available to do it for him. A Lord flying his own ship? He was born from noble blood. Unlikely.

A short distance away were the ships from the Sith Corporation. They were already waiting to work on the base.

"You're right, Major," he said as he watched the nearby sensor display. The Captain's ships were about to come out of Hyperspace. "Though, I'd be remiss to not make mention of the stormtroopers transported across battlefields in windowless ships that shake and rumble from the slightest grazing touch of a laser. Not to mention their being loaded in tighter than a pack of sausages." He said with a side-long glance, raising an eyebrow. Sure, being a pilot took a special kind of mindset, but being loaded into a ship filled with twenty to thirty other soldiers, not knowing how close you were to your target? The possibility to die at any moment? At least TIEs had sensor systems. They had more of a chance of knowing when they were going down.

And then the blips of [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] ships coming out of hyperspace lit up the screen and soon after his communications officer was patching him through to the Captain.

He has his wits about him now.

"Release the asteroids from your hangar and tractor beams in your current position." This was a message directed to the Wolf's Maw as well. The Maw itself had released their asteroids, they came together, crashing before slowly parting ways. That was when the ships from the Sith Corporation started coming around to also tractor beam them in, and once they were a long enough distance away, they deployed their mining droids to begin cutting into the rock.

[member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"]

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

"There's some comfort to be found in the prospect of dying with ones comrades in arms, rather than alone in the vacuum." The Major allowed a quick retort to escape, before the interruption warning of of the rest of the First Order's naval ships reverting from hyperspace.

Roderik went silent, allowing the High Colonel to transmit his instructions without the undue burden of distraction. Captain Carly had successfully dropped out of hyperspace and was ready to continue the mission, which was pleasing to the Major - lest the good Captain [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] give [member="Asharad Graush"] additional reason to loathe him, and probably by the extension, the Navy. The High Colonel seemed the type to hold a branch accountable for the failures of any one component, Roderik thought. Everyone suffers when a weak link is discovered and until it was rectified.

It was an effective tool in maintaining obedience within the ranks, but not a tool that Roderik often employed.

Roderik also knew that the faults of the Navy would not, invariably, look too poorly on the Starfighter Corps that rode transiently among their vessels - no veteran stormtrooper or stormtrooper officer would too poorly malign the starfighter pilots who regularly and expertly provided for their close air support. Not if they wanted proton bombs falling a little too close for comfort.