Major Pains

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VM1vU-jFivE​

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Sitting above the jewel in Supreme Leader's crown, Bespin, the FIV Malice and her assorted escort vessels stood in a defensive position. The war had been a long, hard fight to the finish for her crews, and in the wake of a discernible ceasefire, there was relief. In the wake of this pause, many of the older officers, or family men had decided that it was time to leave the service. Or at the very least take a less active role.

And Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber couldn't blame them. The war had laid bare the horrors and depravity undertaken, as well as the dangers of self-assured zealotry. After having had a week off, the servicemen and women began to make their way to their stations. The fleets commander, would be returning imminently to greet his new army adjunct staff. Although the senior commander, Brigadier General Montague remained in command of the broader fleets forces, several high ranking officers had resigned.

It was now, that Carlyle was set to meet them, as his upsilon-class shuttle departed the barracks on Cloud City. The shuttle hastened its way up to the ventral hangar of the resurgent-class destroyer. The executive escort of senior officers was a squadron of twelve ivory TIE fighters, who broke from their wedge formation to return to the port and starboard hangars they had come from.

As the shuttle landed, within the hangar. A platoon of stormtroopers waited, in a phalanx, sitting on either side of the docking ramp. At the bottom, sat Commodore Erstus Halgerd, surrounded by the junior officers. The Commodore wore a crisp, clean, black tunic, and accompanying greatcoat. The shuttle gently came to a halt. There was a pause, as the shuttle decompressed, and then with a hiss, as the ramp opened, and extended. Before it had even finished, Rausgeber exited. He was attired in his signature white uniform, with accompanying cape.

"Fleet Admiral Rausgeber," Commodore Halgerd began, raising his right hand in the customary salute. "Welcome aboard."

The Fleet Admiral waved away the man, seemingly more interested in the new, fresh faces which sat behind the man. Some of whom were clearly intimidated by his presence. "You may dispense with the pleasantries Commodore," Carlyle began, "The time for rest is over, the time for work is upon us." He brushed past the officer, and looked upon the new set of officers, "Introductions," Carlyle commanded, to the group, "Name, rank and position." He barked.

[member="The Major"]

 

[The Major]

Jittering excitement swelled in her as the Admiral crushed hours of intolerable boredom with his sudden command. She could almost feel her compatriots shrink just a smidgen, just a barely perceptible millimeter, as those jackboots clicked on the Bespin platform. An audible !TOK! reverberates at her core. The red banners themselves seemed to flourish as she announced, thundered:

“SYBIL SHEPARDT,
MAJOR,
FIRST EFF-ESS-OOH-BEE
INTERNAL AFFAIRS COMMAND,
SIR!”

Her green edge showed and betrayed her, however, because she had practically screamed this. Adorned in the standard issue First Order officer’s garb, Sybil cut an impressive figure at 1.8 meters. Her left arm shot out in precision salute and she held this posture, awaiting the admiral’s command to go at ease. Inside, her so called iron core wavered as the rush of pride and assertiveness wore out and instead was replaced with an fluttering fist of numb.

Damn. Had she messed that up?

A bead of sweat formed just beneath her officer’s cap, meandered down near her ear, and shimmered just above her meticulous braid of auburn hair.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle listened to the other junior officers and their drawling, almost grovel-some introduction with an air of derision and dare they say it, disinterest. However, Major Shepardt's introduction left something of a sour taste. For a small window of time, it appeared as if the whole Galaxy glared at her. Commodore Halgerd, Rausgeber's bodyguards, her fellow officers and even the stormtroopers seemed to all be fixated on her. Carlyle's eyes were fixed on her, running up and down her body, a scowl forming on his mouth.

An air of second hand embarrassment infected the crowd. Although discipline would dictate none of them would gossip, glances were exchanged and the body language tightened. The dead silence which had engulfed the military men ended when Carlyle decided to speak. "I take it you must've excelled in the ideology exams, eh?" He offered, the scowl disappearing, and a smirk pursing his lips.

Commodore Halgerd offered a weak chuckle, "Yes, uh, well, uh, quite so, sir." He said, anxiously rubbing his hands, "Would you like to-"

"Whatever you say, stop." Carlyle commanded, "I'd like to become better acquainted with these..." He paused to asses them all, glancing over the group, "Abilities." He gestured to the shuttle, "Get them ready for departure to the Malice." Carlyle commanded, "I wish to see how they act in their proper environment."

[member="The Major"]

 

[The Major]

Doom. Pure, horrid, existentially daunting doom. It occurs to Sybil at this very moment that truly, irrelevance was the most perfect thing. To be in a spotlight for even a second was excruciating punishment. Those comrades of hers weren't recoiling in her strength of presence, but recoiling in what could be described as the spiritual equivalent of raw sewage. What a mess this was already. However, this “Major” would not be so dismayed as to be destroyed by one little misstep. Even a bad presentation was at least a presentation. She truly was excited to begin her mission, and this exuberance transferred to all her actions.

The admiral’s comment dripped in a profound yet paradoxically casual sarcasm that provided an insight to his priorities. So while her first impression was a flimsy failure and a veritable pain to all involved, it at least taught Sybil a great deal on her current mark’s expectations. Perhaps he was arrogant, but that could be justified by his recent success and overall usefulness to the Supreme Leader. The admiral was also far more attractive to look at in person than in holonet pictures or intel files. A little older, sure, but fine. That helped, she guessed.

This Major waited for Carlyle to gesture to the shuttle before wiping her brow and falling in line with the rest of her junior officers. Her sting of pride subsided and maintained a better control of her nerves, dodging the state of any of her comrades unless addressed.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]