Give Me Shelter

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

​

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Location: Spaceport, Cloud City​

As the early evening sky turned a bright shade of tangerine, purple-grey clouds wisping up to curl around Cloud City, occasionally obscuring her view, Tamm'orr'nuruodo walked from one of the many casinos to Cloud IX Landing, the main spaceport which was situated in one of the lower levels. She’d never gambled before, found it wasteful actually, but after a couple hands of sabacc, the Chiss military commander was hooked. Of course, she’d lost every hand, but she envisioned herself coming back to that very table to try next time with more skill and less luck.

Morro’s life up until the last three years had been quite unsophisticated for galaxy standards. She had, not necessarily a rural upbringing, but akin to a military brat’s beginnings, bouncing around from region to region on Csilla with very little interaction outside of her species.

But one thing she did know is that humans - and the First Order Navy was primarily made up of humans as far as she could see - barrelled through the pronunciation of most Chiss names in the most ineloquent fashion, as though chewing up the word and spitting it out.

Therefore she was known as Morro or preferably Commander Morro.

Recruited by the First Order after saving half of their crew from a small and unexpected skirmish in space with the Galactic Alliance, she had an appointment with Admiral Rausberger, a prominent figure of Central Command. The Chiss female wore her own Expeditionary Fleet uniform as she hadn’t technically gone through the enlistment process which included all sorts of medical and aptitude tests and as ordinary as the uniform was, Morro stood out among the sea of humans and droids with her royal blue skin and luminous scarlet eyes.

When she could not immediately locate the Admiral, she began to inspect the vessels in the port, examining, scrutinizing and admiring based on her own tastes. The distinct woodsy odor of a dilnlexan cigar was her first hint that the man to whom she’d been referred was close by.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

The spaceport was where the Fleet Admiral was found. At the moment, he was organising logistics for the upcoming invasion of the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium. Right now, as many of his crew now gambled away in the casinos, enjoying their last night before deployment, a small crew of logistics officers, stormtroopers and senior command staff now watched as rations, weapons crates and medical supplies were stowed aboard small barges. The supplies would then be carried to their alloted star destroyer, frigate or transport. It was a laborious task, but it had to be done. An army, or in these case fleet, marched on its stomach.

Carlyle puffed slowly on his cigar, taking long drags as he watched another barge be filled by a combination of stormtroopers and naval staff. This part of the spaceport was off limits to civilians, due to the nature of its cargo. So naturally, when Carlyle noted his subordinates becoming restless, and starring off behind him, he naturally turned. It made for quite a cinematic 'swoosh' with his cape, as his cold eyes began to examine the newcomer. Commander Tamm'orr'nuruodo. Or Morro as some of the less linguistically educated called her.

While many subordinate stood in awe of the Chiss woman, Carlyle did not quite reciprocate that feeling. To Rausgeber, she was a distraction. One which was attired out of uniform, and on military property. Carlyle derisively glared at her, "Commander Tamm'orr'nuruodo," Carlyle began, managing to eloquently say her name correctly. However his voice was stern, but simultaneously not harsh, "Why are you out of uniform?"

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

For a moment Morro actually smiled in appreciation that the Admiral, not only addressed her by her full name, but his Cheunh accent was almost so spot on that she would not have minded if he began reciting a poem in her beloved language - if he had been so inclined. And likely he was not. Separated from her colleagues and navigating the military bureaucracy of Cloud City, she’d been speaking Basic the entire time during her visit, even thinking in Basic.

But she still dreamt in Cheunh, spoken over images of the majestic glaciers of Csilla, or the glow of a warm fire underground where her family home had been. Of course skewed in that surrealistic way of night visions, time and space difficult to measure.

Oh Morro wanted to wear the uniform. Desperately so. Right now, more than anything, she wanted to slip her blue-skinned legs into the slim-fitting black Imperial pants, made of some durable utilitarian material with just a hint of spring in it, the matching shirt and jacket, and then to zip up a pair of knee-high boots fervently shined the night before by ugnaughts.

But in a mildly outraged voice she said in her thick Cheun accent: “Admiral Rausgeber, would you have me represent the First Order without having gone through the proper admissions procedures? The vision, blood tests, microchip implants, spice screening, pregnancy test for a female, not to mention background check?”

It appeared that Morro was going to be a stickler for the rules.

Her smile quickly turned to a thin, straight line filled with stiff determination, her chin held high, red orbs gleaming. “But if you wish, Sir. I can put the uniform on.”

She had a feeling the Admiral wasn’t a man who specifically followed the rules, but wildly broke the ones in place, replacing them with his own, only asking for forgiveness if he were caught.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

"Only if you do it in front of us!" An ensign offered, as he heaved down a crate of medical supplies in front of the group. He stood up, and put his hands on his waist, a few others snickered. Including the lieutenant who trailed Carlyle, datapad in hand. Rausgeber shot a derisive glare at the younger officer. The shorter, younger man visibly withered beneath the glare of the officer. "A-uh, apologies sir..." He grumbled, before sheepishly returning to his work.

The Fleet Admiral returned his attentions to the Chiss, with another glare. "Your condescension is as unnecessary as it is unheeded." Carlyle politely snapped, a snarl creeping over his features. "If you are to be under my command I request nothing but your utmost confidence and loyalty." He paused, "You may be here as apart of some form of cultural exchange, and attempt at diversity hiring," He let his assertion hang in the air, with contempt, "But I will not have you treated any differently because of the colour of your skin."

"Right now, you sit in the First Order's territory. In a First Order installation." He glowered, "You are under our command, not theirs. And as such, you should be attired to recognise this fact."

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Morro turned her head slightly towards the noisy catcall of the ensign and the other onlookers who likely enjoyed this free entertainment courtesy of the Admiral. Anything out of the ordinary in the well oiled military machine was a welcome sight.

Then she faced the older, distinguished veteran again, red eyes narrowing slightly which was the only sign that she may have been annoyed. Otherwise her head remained still, her arms down at her sides with precision, likely practiced through marches and drills from the Chiss armed forces from which she came.

“Fine, I suppose you plan to give me those tests yourself then?” she asked with the barest hint of subordination.

Yet quickly the female officer reclaimed her poise, saluted him and said, “Yes, Sir. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” The Chiss knew better than to cross him another time, even if only in spirited conversation. She firmly grabbed the same ensign who catcalled her, placing her gloved hand upon his wrist. “You are going to help me find the uniform and in my size. And a proper dressing room.”

After she was properly outfitted per the Imperial uniform specifications, Morro returned and said, “Reporting for duty.” Despite the brilliant blue skin, she stuck out much less now in the sea of black jackets, pants and caps.

Morro had always followed the rules, and although she wasn’t about to stop now, she had researched the First Order principles, accepting the more controversial standpoints regarding peace or combat.

But the commander had no idea just now many of her personal principles she may have to rethink in order to survive among the war-minded ranks of this xenophobic, Darkside-influenced navy service.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Rausgeber watched the interaction. He would have interjected, but he didn't. The ensign would be punished for his insubordination, and unprofessional behaviour. "O-o-f course ma'am." The ensign stammered, blushing nearly as red as the Chiss' eyes. The lower ranked officer performed admirably, and quickly in his task, returning as soon as possible to the watchful gaze of Rausgeber, who clinically watched everything.

Carlyle eyed the woman, and took another drag from his cigar. He turned to face her, his cape whipping up against the lieutenant who followed him. "Better." He sternly mused, eyes narrowing as he inspected her form. She looked quite attractive. The uniform quite well distinguished her features. She would have made an excellent bedmate, or poster model. In fact she cut the ideal imperial figure and form, sans the ungodly pigmentation of her skin.

"Now Commander Tamm'orr'nuruodo," He once again executed the name with no issues, "With you properly attired, I do have some, business to attend to." Rausgeber began, his eyes locked with hers, as he stood erect before her, his hands clasped behind his back, "Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you sought me out." He asked, his left eyebrow raised, "You were not summoned." He let his dismissive tone hang in the air.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

One of Morro’s more useful attributes in not showing emotion were her crimson, pupilless eyes. Around humans and other species if she fashioned her face into a mask with no surprise, disappointment or even disgust, her expression could be very difficult to read. So she did so now, relaxing the muscles in her forehead and around her jaw as she faced Admiral Rausgeber, following along beside him when he turned and began walking across the port.

She could tell he was inspecting her, the way his steel-hued eyes roamed her body, and likely he was just making sure everything was up to First Order Navy standards, but was there something more rapacious in his gaze?

A blush manifested itself in a darker shade of blue upon her cheeks for both the thought of the Admiral delighting in her trim figure, and also her own immediate attraction to the human - quite surprising actually. While she had passing crushes on superiors or even peers before, she’d never pictured herself with anything other than a Chiss mate.

Boot steps echoing around the spaceport, Morro walked with spine-straight beside her new ADM.

“I’ve been assigned to your fleet. I was hoping to have you recommendation on which corvette would fill out any gaps.”

Morro could have asked any Lt. or fellow Commander this information, but the ambitious Chiss - aside from a hopefully passing fancy for the older human - was not afraid of bold, even confrontative maneuvers to get what she wanted. Rausgeber was the nucleus of the ever changing naval organism. And that’s exactly where she saw herself residing in the grand scheme of the galaxy.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

The officer began to walk around in circles, circling his deputy, before beginning to make his way down a lane of crates and heavy machinary. He was a little disgruntled that the Chiss would be bothering him about such mundane matters. But realised it was ambition which drove the Chiss. He smiled a little at the Chiss' assertion she would be able to chose her own command. Acting as if she had any authority. She was the lowest of the low, a junior commander. And an alien one at that.

"You seem awfully presumptuous." Carlyle mused aloud, as he strode across the dock. Stormtroopers, and a small entourage of officers flanked him wordlessly. It was almost as if he held a gravity to him. They seemed to be pulled towards him. "However if you wish to know your new command," Carlyle began, "You will not be reporting directly to myself." He informed her.

"Senior Captain Ervine Banning will be your superior for now." Carlyle informed her, "Captain Banning is the executive officer of what we colloquially call 'The Pack'." He informed her, "You will be supporting him aboard the FIV Valorous." He gestured to one of the corvettes docked ahead, "This isn't it, but it is the type equipment you will be working with." The vessel Rausgeber pointed to was a small vessel. Far smaller than the larger star destroyers and frigates which circled Cloud City and hung in orbit.

The vessel was stacked with weapons however, and looked like it could pack a punch. "These are the bolt two, class picket ships." Carlyle said, "These vessels, may not look like much, but in the hands of a capable commander, can perform insurmountable damage when operated with. They're about as manoeuvrable as TIE fighters, and the fastest ship of their class. They are to be captained by only the best, and brightest." In one swift motion, Carlyle rounded himself onto the Chiss, there was little less than a foot between them. Carlyle's steeled gaze locked with the Chiss, "So the question then becomes, are you worthy of its command?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Challenging her.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Perhaps Morro had been so insulated on Csilla that she would not recognize xenophobia, unless it was blatant, like some of the whispers of ensigns, privates and maintenance workers in the port who whispered about her blue skin. She certainly did not detect it from the Admiral, though it may have existed just the same. For now it was subtle enough to not dissuade her.

She listened watching the gravitational pull of Rausberger’s influence affecting nearly everyone in the spaceport, but when he admitted, "You will not be reporting directly to myself” Morro could barely suppress a contemptuous curl of her soft, painted lips, not of derision but of disappointment.

“Yes, Sir,” she said. Morro opened her mouth, wanting to protest that she didn’t need to report to to Senior Captain, but she realized that unlike the CEDF and her beloved Expeditionary Fleet, she was low on the totem pole. She gritted her teeth instead, the pearly whites juxtaposed against her royal blue skin causing them to glow as bright as her scarlet orbs.

Abruptly the Admiral turned upon her, closing the gap between them. He was so near to her that she could detect a heady mix of cigarra and piquant aftershave, not an unwelcome odor by any means. The Chiss tried to keep her breathing steady, but her chest rose and fell at a more rapid pace. The answer did not come easy or quickly, allowing those who surrounded them a perplexing display of emotional dictation, that for a moment, resembled a seduction.

“I’m ready to give my life for the Order, Admiral Rausgeber. So if my death is a worthy sacrifice to advance the cause, I would answer that yes, I’m worthy.”

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle shook his head dismissively at the Chiss, "And here I was thinking your kind could be pragmatic Tamm'orr'nuruodo." Carlyle scorned, his blue orbs still glued to her red ones. "Zealotry and oaths to lay down your life may lead to high standing with the FOSB, but not here." Carlyle coolly replied, "I want pragmatists under my command. Not those who would haphazardly waste precious lives and material in some sort of brazen crusade."

Carlyle gestured around them, "Cloud City, Zarnathea, Alexandra, all these systems, this Empire was not forged on the whims of those who would otherwise throw away their lives." He scowled, "Nay, it was built by strong men and women. Intelligent strategists, and those who did not waste previous material and subordinates at a whim." He let a smirk curl upon his lip, one of superiority, "You should strive to emulate these heroes. These men and women. Men like Mitth'raw'nurodo." He eloquently managed to say another Chiss name, an attempt to belittle the new officer.

Rausgeber began to circle the junior officer, like a vulture. Every so often, he would brush against her, his tone became low, almost deadly. "If you wish to succeed, you must be intelligent with your resources, and disciplined." His tone became lower, and huskier, almost seductive. "You must promise that."

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Perhaps the Admiral was right, and Morro had made that statement because she thought it was what he wanted to hear. More refreshing was that her new commander was driven by reason and pragmatism just as she often was.

“That’s good to know,” she admitted. “I had heard that the First Order were nothing more than zealots, the highest leaders among them... part of a strange incestuous cult.” There were lots of rumors of course - it did not mean Morro had all of her facts straight.

“But you seem to know my species well and what we stand for.” Morro suddenly had this awful vision of her being asked to speak during the First Order Diversity Training, which had been a class offered at the ensign level. By the Emperor’s Black Heart, she hoped none of the top brass would ask her to participate in such a circus.

Still, the more scornful and dismissive Rausgeber became, the more the female Chiss felt herself wanting to prove him wrong. This stubbornness was a trait her father always lauded, while her mother complained that her resistance to yield to authority figures would hurt Morro’s career in the long run.

The Admiral’s invocation of Mitth'raw'nurodo was interesting to say the least. While most on Csilla honored the esteemed Grand Admiral of an old Empire, some saw him as betraying the Chiss by becoming a servant of the human Imperials. “He was a great man, yes,” Morro said without missing a beat. But the brush of his stiff uniform against the fabric of her own offered such a distraction, she nearly forgot to breath. The officer was not used to being the center of attention, nor put on the spot. But she did revel in the sudden interest the Admiral had taken in her, seeing herself not as the insignificant, parochial Chiss from snowy Csilla, but a perhaps a confidant.

Despite his derision. And despite the soft, white hair which began at his sideburns and snaked up into his blondish coiff. The imperfect teeth which gnawed upon the cigarra. And despite the fact that she really longed for him to brush into her again, only a layer of woolen cloth between the heat of skin.

The question of promise was rhetorical indeed and seemed a bit silly to her in light of the fact, she’d already told him that her life would be reserved for his command and hopefully not his whims.

But propriety beckoned so standing straight again, all business and practiced grace, Morro asked, “What does the First Order mean to you?”

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle listened to her. She wasn't wrong on that count. He could recall arguing too and fro with some of the more ideologically driven members of Central Command. He could understand that belief. Particularly given where the First Order had come from, and its media arms showing a united front. He stopped, before her, and took another long drag from his cigar. He blew the smoke, callously into her face, before stilling himself. His cold eyes once again matched hers.

"The First Order is an apparatus of security and safety in a Galaxy which often goes without." Carlyle plainly began, "It tames the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions, standing firm as a power which can give opportunities to systems which would otherwise not have them." He paused, "Were it not for Supreme Leader, I would be some kind of over-glorified taxman. A small-time bit captain, rather than what I have become today." He informed her, "The First Order stands unashamedly as the only galactic power to truly give a damn about the Unknown Regions, and the countless under invested and impoverished systems in the Outer Rim."

Carlyle paused, and watched the lieutenant, who nodded. His outburst was met with nods, and agreement from his fellow officers, and the stormtroopers. Many of these men and women would have been stuck as farmers, and left to the devices of the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium, were it not for the First Order's intervention. The arrival of Sieger Ren and the law and order of the First Order had given them something they never realised they needed. Purpose. Purpose and the security to flourish and become something greater. And it would be men like Carlyle Rausgeber, who would secure that.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

The Admiral’s steel-hued irises bored into her as he blew cigarra smoke into her face, causing Morro to sneeze, her red, luminescent eyes watering uncontrollably. Her blue brow wrinkled, though she said nothing. While the Chiss enjoyed the odor of expensive tabac, having it waft around her face was less than pleasant.

She shifted, her boots heels making a clicking noise on the hollow floor as he explained his view on the First Order. Morro loathed that they had such an eager audience hanging upon Rausgeber's every syllable, but still...

You will need to get used to this, Morro. Could this human Admiral rival the great Mitth'raw'nurodo someday? It was likely, but both of their legacies were intertwined now and firmly in the grip the First Order.

“You are a good orator,” remarked the Chiss with an attempt at flattery towards her superior. “I imagine you are an even better naval tactician.”

The junior office was suddenly gripped by the strange sensation to test his generosity, and hearing her mother’s voice inside her head warning her to step down from her high horse, Morro continued, “But when was the last time you were in the cockpit of a starfighter, Admiral?”

A hushed silence fell over the group, the circling Lieutenants wondering who this bold woman was who did not hang on each word of the Admiral’s as though it was a crumb of a religious offering she was lucky to receive. But truth be told, Morro was curious about the man behind the bravado, and when was the last time he had actually felt that rush of first flight that all of them had when they were all cadets.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle's eyes narrowed at the compliment, was she perhaps buttering him up? He would not allow that. Although it may have been a pleasant feeling, compliments and hollow platitudes did not get one anywhere. He was caught off guard by her question. He allowed himself a shake of his head. He would be frank with her. No matter how disrespectful the question had been. "I was never in the Starfighter Corps if that was your question." Carlyle began, his voice coarse and a little less chiselled and prepared as before.

"I did attempt to join," Rausgeber informed her, "But I was denied entry." He admitted, "During the medical testing, I was deemed unfit for a starfighter." He informed her, "I had poor lungs. Ones which could not suffer the cramped cockpit of a TIE fighter or any other sort of space craft." He continued, "But that is not relevant." He said, putting the kibosh on this line of discussion. "The question is, why is it relevant to you?"

He paused, a small snarl curling itself upon his lips, "Surely a man of my record can rest upon his laurels, rather than having the likes of you question it?" He paused, "Some upstart commander, who probably only got to the rank through batting eyelashes and jockeying officers."

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

The flattery was genuine, if not perhaps a bit naive. Morro just assumed that those who rose to power did so on their own merits, yet that wasn’t always the case throughout the galaxy. And despite her emotionless facade, the Admiral would see her blue brow crinkle as he spoke of his lung condition, a melancholy expression gracing her features. The older human was caught off-guard - which was never really a good thing to witness from your superior officer. But so was she, and a small kernel of sympathy knotted in her belly.

Still her father had died of a virus, the cardooine chills specifically, when she was fifteen and for a moment, Rausgeber’s statement suddenly brought that tragedy back in an all too palpable way.

It was rare to show joy, sorrow or any kind of affection towards your leader in the military and in the surrounding industrial complex that fed it, but Morro put her gloved hand upon Carlyle’s wrist, touching it gently.

“I’m sorry, Admiral. Forgive me, I was out of line,” she said, withdrawing her fingers. For a brief moment she toyed the hem of her gloves and then placed her arms back down by her side. “You are right it is not my place to question.”

With the cold exterior back in place, Morro asked, “Where can I find Captain Banning?”

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle was caught off guard by her attempt at touching him, and snapped his arm away from her. A dark, warning glare shot over his features. The Chiss had decidedly put him in a bad mood. He did not feel like having to explain himself, or his actions to her any further.

"Senior Captain Banning will not want to be disturbed." Carlyle pointedly informed her, eyeing her expression, "If I know the man, and I do, he's spending his last days on leave with his children." Carlyle elaborated. "I am sure that should you come to the naval command building, the captain may pop in there every now and again, particularly as we draw closer to deployment."

He paused, letting a beat go before he continued walking, not caring if the alien commander followed him or not. He left his arms crossed behind his back as he continued walking along. "Is there anything else?" He asked dismissively.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

What were you thinking, Tamm'orr'nuruodo? Here was the Admiral just accusing you - wrongly of course - of using feminine wiles to advance in the CEDF and you dare to lay a hand upon him, just reinforcing the idea that you’re some loose moraled blue-skinned hussy?

But she knew ultimately her action, the light touch, not even a caress, had been fueled by her grief over her father’s passing.

Disappointed, but trying very hard not to show it, she snapped her knee-high boots together, gave him a sharp salute and said, “I understand, Sir. I will promptly report to the med bay to have the requisite tests.” Even more important to validate her health since he likely saw her as some sketchy alien.

Unblinking, her gaze following the Admiral only, she turned around, avoiding eye contact with the other officers and strode off in a purposeful manner, only breathing out slowly when she’d finally exited the spaceport and walked down the corridor to medical.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]